Chapter 60

The day had finally come. The gang was gathering in and out of each others apartment, preparing for the robbery. Billie and John were in their bedroom, some others inside the living room, waiting. Billie laid upon the bed, John wanting her to rest. Billie was looking worse, his illness finally rubbing off on her just in time for him to leave. He would almost make himself sick again worrying about her. He wore a holster under an extra large coat, Billie watching as he loaded guns of different sizes onto his person. She'd never been so anxious. This scene, and this feeling, was something she'd have to get used to. She didn't know whether to hold back and be strong for him or admit her true emotions. Either way there would be no disguising her discomfort.

"I'm gonna come back to you as soon as possible."

John was anxious as well. He paced the room in a way he never did before robberies. He was always cool and collected- the level head. Now, he felt all kinds of flustered, and he knew why. There had never been so much riding on a robbery before. He'd never had Billie waiting for him, and he'd never been plagued by the thought of not returning; that he'd never see her again. Subsidiary to that notion was the fact that whatever money he received from the heist now went to support both of them. John had made stealing a business. As with any serious occupation, this one had colossal risks.

He went to the bed and sat before Billie. They looked to one another. He could see the shadows under her brilliant eyes, her expression a weary kind of disturbed, like she knew the consequences of the situation and was somewhere between denial and acceptance. She didn't like that she was so weak at a time like this and her aggravation only exhausted her further. She studied his face, his eyes; the texture of his skin and the way it formed and stretched over his nose and cheeks; the hue and intensity of his gaze. She tried to engage and appreciate them wholly, in the present, should she never have this moment again.

Her hand raised and rested against his cheek. "How long?"

He smirked. "Only takes me 'bout thirty seconds to crack a safe. The hard part ain't the breaking. It's the entering and leavin' that gets tricky."

Billie gave a smile at his boasting. The man was proud of his abilities, however deplorable. She was proud of him, too, and if that condemned her, so be it. Her gaze drifted downward and her hand fell with it, her fingers starting to brush his collar and down the buttons of his shirt. John could see the way she was looking at him, soaking everything in. She was smiling, pleased with him, with what she saw and touched, but he knew the secret despair that hid behind her eyes. She didn't want to forget him.

He took a deep breath, adverting his eyes. "I'd give this all up for you, if that's what you wanted. All you'd have to do is ask."

It was a declaration. John himself had never imagined words like that coming from his mouth, but now, especially in the moment, it was the only thing consuming his thoughts. It was everything, and it explained everything. He couldn't speak a greater truth. The weight of those words seemed heavy even for him to release, John waiting a beat to look back up into her eyes. Suddenly he felt vulnerable and nervous.

It took a moment for these words and their real meaning to sink in. When this happened Billie was dumbstruck. Maybe she hadn't heard him right? No. There was no denying the look in his eyes. She was awed. Billie didn't know the notion was even debatable. Things were how they were and that was that. Now, John was telling her that he'd change his way of life, the radical thing that it was, for normalcy- upon her request. It stunned her.

"John..." she breathed out heavily. There were so many things whirling in her brain that it took another breath for her to evenly pick out all the aspects she wanted to get across. She sat up, stuttering a moment before actually beginning. "I would never ask you to change... I didn't come into this," and then she adverted, "I didn't agree to stay with you because I imagined things would be different." She shook her head, looking at him evenly. She could see the fear and vulnerability in his eyes, how he was hanging on her words and their significance. In that moment she was the man of the relationship. John may have been older, stronger, and the most skilled and wanted criminal in the United States, but he was putting all that on the line for her. She was to make the decision.

"I love you, and to love you means to love all of you...including your criminal record..." For the first time John showed a bit of lightness, smirking and almost chuckling. Billie was grateful for this, smiling easily herself and reaching out to grab his hand.

John was overwhelmed with relief and admiration. It always seemed as though Billie said and did exactly what John needed and wanted to hear, even when he didn't know what that was. He pulled Billie into him, hugging her rather tight. "I love you," he told her, because nothing else could equal that. He could tell her how precious and magical her words were, that they were things he'd never heard, never thought could be said, but it all added up to the same thing- he loved her.

Billie allowed him to hold on to her tightly, wanting the severity of their contact as much as he. Her eyes closed, her head leaning into him even more. "Please be safe, Johnnie."

"I will, baby. I'm gonna be safe for you, and come back to you. I can't leave you alone."

Once the words were said they spun inside Billie, twisting and contorting. Very slightly her body became tense. She knew John loved her, but the way he talked and perhaps the way he thought was making her nervous. It came across as though he thought she were an immaculate entity, and yet maybe even a burden. It had gone further than a mere compliment and, Billie felt, was entering a new disturbing degree.

"Don't say things like that."

Slowly they pulled apart. John was frowning with offense. Confusion. Billie could see by his ruffled brow that he didn't understand and the smolder coming to his eye told her that he was debating whether or not to be hurt. "What's that mean?"

She had to explain clearly, beginning softly but with serious intent. "You do everything for me. Only for me. I don't want you to be safe just for me, I want you to be safe because...it's your life." The more she learned about the man the more Billie realized that behind all the charisma and confidence John had very little self-worth. He tended to make Billie his purpose, his reason, and though it was what any person wanted to hear, it wasn't adequate. It was a difficult thing to explain. His unconditional love was something she cherished, not something that bothered her, and what she was saying was not a kind of insult or complaint. However, she was asking for something.

"I want you to love you as much as I do," she tried again, reaching out and touching his heart to emphasize. His hardness was softening, but slowly. "Do you understand?"

He breathed deep, contemplating, his eyes downcast. "I think so..."

His voice was low, unsure. John tried to understand, but the whole concept wasn't something he was comfortable with. Billie wanted him to love himself. To find his worth, even without her. John didn't like to spend too much time thinking about himself, the action prone to angering him, and he especially didn't want to think about his life without Billie. However, he saw a point somewhere in her speech. All those things he didn't like about himself, that he hadn't paid any mind to for years except to push further and further to the recesses of his mind- that's what Billie wanted him to embrace. It might have been the hardest thing she'd asked him to do. Loving her was easy; but loving himself?

"Will you try?" she asked gently into the silence. John had been quiet for some moments. Instead of ignoring it, of brushing off the subject again, he offered her an honest answer, but at the moment that was all he could muster.

"It'll be hard."

Again she gave him a smile. "I'll help you."

He believed that Billie would, that it could be possible with her assistance. However, it was too much to concentrate on right then. He was about to rob a bank; nurturing his self-esteem could come later. John didn't need to be thinking of that as well. He caressed Billie's arm, knowing that time was passing fast. The others were waiting. Still he took pleasure in the smoothness of her skin, the faintest sprinkle of freckles on her arm, his own body in contrast to hers. As always she appeared so delicate; more so now that she was sick. While thinking of Billie's frailty and his strength, how she needed him now more than ever, he recalled a thought. His hand pulled away from hers and sunk into his coat, reappearing and holding the small pistol.

"I want you to take this."

Billie looked from the man to the gun and back again. Though the piece was tiny, being that near to a firearm made her uneasy. Out of any weapon she could handle that one (if she wanted), but she never wanted to be in a situation where she had to. As if reading her thoughts John spoke gently.

"There's no reason you should have to use it. It'll just make me feel better."

She paused another moment but, when seeing his sincerity and the seriousness of it all, eventually she reached out and took the gun. It wasn't light but it wasn't too heavy. It was warm from being in his coat and felt dangerous lying on her palm. Where was she supposed to put it? She laid the thing down on the bed with the barrel pointing away from her and at the wall instead.

"I'll teach ya how to use it when I get back," John said, a flash of lightness brightening his features as he planned for the future. Billie wasn't terribly excited to be taught how to use a gun, but she knew it was something he'd enjoy. Feeding on his tiny spark of delight she leaned forward, embracing him one last time.

"Then you'd better get back quick," she said before they shared a long kiss.

Even after John had pried himself away from Billie as quick as possible he was still running late. It wasn't as though the bank wouldn't still be there, and susceptible to its own burglary, but the gangs' plans were now just slightly off. When he entered his own kitchen there were others there- the two women and Red, the man looking anxious but stern. That was something John always liked about Red; no matter what the man was always controlled, even more so than himself. In just a glance they communicated, John retrieving his hat and plopping it down on his head before heading out. Before he left completely he turned back to Jane, meeting her eyes with a stare like fire.

"Take care of her."

He swept out the door, it closing after him with a thud.