"Like my new shoes, Billy?" Machiavelli asked as they drove over to the playground. He swung his feet back and forth. "They light up when I walk," he told him excitedly.

Billy glanced at his shoes before turning his attention back on the road. "They look good, Mac. You'll be the talk of the town."

Machiavelli held his hands up in the air, feeling the wind slip through his fingers. It felt like water running into his hands.

"That looks like fun," Billy said. "I think I'll do it too." And he raised his hands above him. He laughed at the scared expression on Machiavelli's face. "Relax Mac. We're on a flat, straight portion of the road. There's no danger involved. But this is our turn." And he spun the wheel to the right. Stopping the car, he walked around the car and opened Machiavelli's door. "Here you are, sir." He bowed deeply.

Machiavelli giggled and climbed out. Walking into the park, he noticed a boy, smaller than him, swinging at the very end of the swing set. Something in the boy's face seemed pinched, as if he was tired or sad or something. The Italian noticed the boy was looking at him and Billy, but when the boy saw him looking back, he quickly looked away. Machiavelli thought his behavior was odd, but put the thought aside when Billy pointed out the zip line at the far end of the playground.

He trotted behind Billy, turned around to look at his footprints in the sand and consequently tripping over the wing of a large wooden airplane. He looked appreciatively at the craftsmanship of the plane, but gave it up as too young for him. "How'd you find this place?" he asked the American, ducking under a jungle gym.

"The playground?" Billy asked, pulling him onto a huge tire turned on its side at the end of the zip line. He walked about fifteen feet down to grab the rope the Italian was going to be hanging onto. Machiavelli shook his head.

"No, the town," he called to Billy who pulled the rope towards him.

"Oh, that," Billy said. He shrugged. "I helped found it in 1912. Stayed here for a while." He said this all very nonchalantly and held out the rope.

The Italian pulled himself up on it, resting his feet on the knot at the end of the rope.

"Ready?" Billy yelled. "One...two...three... go!" He heaved the rope. Machiavelli swung down forty feet, hit the end of the line, swung parallel to the ground, and then came back about halfway. Billy had followed him down and now pulled him back to the end of the zip line. "Want to go again?" he asked and when Machiavelli nodded, he swung the line out and snapped it down the line. This time Machiavelli jumped down after the line came back around.

"Whoa," he said, stumbling a little. "That was fast."

"Was it fun?" Billy queried. The European nodded, cross-eyed. "Come on, let's see what else there is." He led the boy over to the main wooden structure which was built like a large ship, complete with bridges, steps, and slides.

"Billy, you see that boy over there on the swings?" Machiavelli asked, climbing up a ladder.

Billy didn't bother looking. "The one who's been staring at us since we got here? Yeah, I've been keeping an eye on him."

"What do you think his story is? Do you think he's been abused?" Machiavelli climbed up the jungle gym. He got about halfway up and froze, apparently too afraid to go up higher or down lower. Billy held out his hands and Machiavelli jumped into his arms.

"I don't know. Something seems to be up. But I don't know that we should investigate- it would draw attention on us." He rubbed his head. "You could try to make friends with him, if you're really that curious."

Machiavelli cocked his head, then nodded. "Something just doesn't seem right with him. Somebody should look out for him."

"Okay, sweets, but how about for now, we just go on the swings?" The Italian took off. "Race you," he called over his shoulder. Billy took off after him, shouting.

Naturally, Machiavelli won. He pulled himself up on the swing. Billy was about the settle beside him on the next swing over, but was stopped by the Italian. "Remember you said you'd push me?"

"Sure, sure." Billy got up and stood behind him. He pulled him back and let him go. The second time he came back, the American gave him a hearty push forward. "Want a push?" he asked the kid next to them. The kid nodded slightly. "Okay, tell me when you want me to stop." Soon both boys were flying. "How are you doing, Nicky?"

"Fine," Machiavelli yelled, leaning back.

"Good. I'm going to get the basket and my book." Billy gave the other boy one more push and left the two boys together. "I'll be over in the gazebo when you want to eat," he called back to them.

~MB~

Machiavelli brought over the boy to the picnic table at lunchtime. The boy introduced himself as John. Machiavelli knew that Billy noticed how John scarfed down half of the food. The American subtly pushed more than one serving the boy's way.

"So, where do you live John?" Billy asked him.

John pointed to the north. "The gray house," he said. He looked curious. "Nick says you live in that old cabin on the side of the mountain? I've never seen anybody there before."

Billy nodded. "It's been in my family since this town was founded. I come up every once in a while, check up on the place."

"This is my first time up here," Machiavelli chimed in. He looked up at Billy, his forehead wrinkled. "How did you fit a cake in this basket?" he asked curiously.

"Why do you have a cake?" John interrupted shyly.

"It's his birthday," Billy explained, pulling a cake out of the basket. He cut it up and put a big piece in front of both of the boys. "I've got a present for you too, M- Nick. It's here when you want it." He tapped at a small present.

"You didn't have to do that," Machiavelli scolded but reached for the box nonetheless. He smiled when he opened it. The box contained a pendant on a necklace. Written in fine script were the words 'Tu sei l'amore della mia vita'. His throat felt suddenly dry, tight. He looked up at the American, wanting to say something to convey his emotions properly, but all he could do was ask, "Could you put it on me?"

~MB~

Machiavelli came down the stairs in the middle of the night to find Billy watching an old rerun of what turned out to be I Love Lucy. He rubbed at his eyes. "Why are you awake at this hour?" he asked the outlaw.

"I wasn't tired," Billy told him. "Besides, I'm the adult. I can stay up as late as I want."

Machiavelli poked him in the side. "I'm older than you."

"But I look older." Billy laughed at Bill Frawley's line. "Come on," he beckoned to the Italian, "Why don't you watch it with me for a little bit?"

"Sure." Machiavelli flipped over the back of the couch. He pushed Billy's knees off the couch and took their spot. Billy pulled his feet back up on the couch and draped his long legs over the boy's lap.