"You would have been a good father, you know" a voice said behind Billy. The outlaw startled slightly, reflexively putting his hands up. He looked over his shoulder to see Nicholas Flamel and relaxed noticeably. "Désolé," the Frenchman apologized.

Billy smiled. "You think so?" he asked, brushing past his moment of fear. Not waiting for an answer he continued talking. "You look good, Nick. Healthier," he added. A cool breeze came off of the ocean. He glanced back at Machiavelli, watching the boy snuggle deeper into the blankets. Nicholas watched Machiavelli for a moment as well, then turned and began down the stairs. Billy followed him down. Nicholas sat beside his wife on the couch. "You really think so?" Billy asked again and this time waited for an answer.

Nicholas assented. Perenelle glanced at him questioningly and Nicholas hastened to explain, "I was just telling Billy he would have made a good father. He's good with Machiavelli." Perenelle nodded in agreement and even Black Hawk, sitting by the fire, gave a nod that showed he agreed with the Flamels.

"Oh, I don't think so," Billy broke the spell. The other immortals looked at him, waiting for an explanation. Billy swept a hand through his hair. "I was a father once," he confessed slowly. "Allegedly, at least." He grinned ruefully at the others.

"I read that in a book," Nicholas acknowledged. "Three daughters. Were they actually your children? There was no substantial evidence to support that."

Billy shifted a bit uncomfortably in his seat. He wouldn't look over at Perenelle Flamel. "I'm not really sure. Isn't that awful? But I was quite the lady's man back then. So I expect they were mine. Three daughters that I know of, three different women. I sent money when I could. Felt bad. I never knew my father either." He paused. "The two of you never had children?"

There was something guarded in Perenelle's face. "No, never."

Billy looked over at Black Hawk. "I know you had kids," he told his friend.

"Five," Black Hawk acknowledged, growing a touch somber. "It's nice to have a kid around again, even if Machiavelli isn't really a child."

"I like having Machiavelli like this," Billy said slowly. "I never really thought about it before all this happened, but I've missed having a family, someone to care about you. When I had my kids, I was too busy running away from the law to stay with them, see them grow. And then I became immortal," he continued. "And it didn't seem fair to have a wife or kids then."

The room was quiet.

"I like having Mac here," Billy repeated. "But... I fell in love with Machiavelli the man. I love the boy, but I miss the man. Is that bad?" his voice rose a little at the end.

Perenelle leaned forward and touched his arm lightly. "No Billy, that's just being honest with yourself."

Billy looked away and into the fire for a moment. He let out a shaky breath. "Anyways," Billy concluded. "I figure this will only last a little while. He's already getting bigger, you know. Soon he'll be my Mac again. I think I should just enjoy watching him grow up. I never got to see any of my girls grow up." He leaned back.

"You didn't keep track of them after you became immortal?" Black Hawk asked carefully. Something in his face suggested he already knew why.

Billy eased out of his chair. "Nah, they didn't live that long. Died of diphtheria, consumption." He smiled but it lacked his normal happy-go-lucky expression. "Anyways, I think I'll go check on the kid." He headed upstairs, but poked his head back down. "I mean, I'm the Kid, but I'm going to check on Machiavelli." He cocked his head to the side. "Maybe we'll go on a trip, see the sights." He smiled again, this smile genuine in nature. His eyes shone fever bright with excitement. The other immortals watched him climb the steps, skipping every other step.

"He's a good guy," Black Hawk said. "Bit scatterbrained, but the best man I've met in a long time."

~MB~

Upstairs, Billy sat beside Machiavelli on the bed. The Italian's eyes were fluttering under their lids and he idly wondered what the immortal dreamed about. Something good, he hoped. Getting up, he pulled the blankets around the boy snugly. "I love you," he whispered soft in the boy's ear.

Mumbling, the little boy rolled over. He snuggled in deeper to the covers and sighed. Squeezing one of his knees, Billy got to his feet. He climbed down the stairs on the other end of the cottage, and let himself out, softly closing the door so they wouldn't know he had left. He decided to walk down by the water, sorting out his emotions as he went.

Turning right, he walked down the coastline a mile. The darkness settled around him like a cloak, but he didn't mind. Gazing out at the harbor, he thought of his friends who had died, the women he had loved, and his mother. Sometimes, his life seemed a little lonely. Coming to a halt, he stuck his hands in his pockets and sighed. The prospect of never having a child or a spouse weighed him down.