When Machiavelli woke up the next morning, he found that most of the work on the second cabin had been completed. He was surprised at how much had been done while he had been sleeping. Machiavelli ran his hands on the smooth plaster of the walls. He looked over at Billy lounging in the doorway. "When did you guys do this?"

Billy rubbed at his eyes and yawned. "Last night. Technically, we don't need sleep, so Black Hawk and Scathach and me, we stayed up and got everything put together."

"Why, though?" Machiavelli asked, wandering up the stairs.

"Because I can't take living in the same room with Black Hawk for one more day." Billy followed him up. He pointed to the room on the left. "We figured we'd put Scathach in this one and the Germains in the other room, the one above the kitchen and bathroom."

"And I'd rather sleep in the Jeep than spend another night with him," Black Hawk's voice floated up the stairs. Moments later the bronze man's head poked up the stairs. He tapped at the windows. "We had a hell of a time installing these in the dark."

Billy wrapped an arm around Machiavelli's shoulders. "We still need to paint the walls," he told the Italian. "Want to pick out the paint with me?"

"Sure." Machiavelli leaned back against the American and looked up at him through his long lashes. "Just the two of us?" Machiavelli questioned hopefully.

Billy shrugged. "Yeah, I mean Black Hawk doesn't care what color his walls are, do you?" He looked at the Native American. Black Hawk shook his head. "Something green, huh?"

"Like my Jeep!" Black Hawk drawled as he thumped down the stairs.

Billy started to follow him but realized the Italian hadn't moved and came back up the stairs. Machiavelli ran his fingers along the banister and slowly made his way to where the outlaw was waiting. "You do nice work," he complimented. "When are we putting the appliances in and stuff?"

"The appliances and furniture will go in tomorrow. Today we have to paint the inside and put a sealant on the outside." He grabbed Machiavelli and turned him away from the Thunderbird and towards the Jeep instead.

Machiavelli was confused. "We're not taking your car?"

"Put paint in my baby? Are you crazy?" He sounded slightly outraged and looked a little insane. "No way."

"But I thought you didn't like the Jeep," Machiavelli said, reaching back to grab the seat buckle. Moments later he was exceptionally thankful that he had gotten his belt buckled before they began moving. He wrinkled his nose with some distaste as they began to bounce down the road. He shouted over the ambient noise. "Did Black Hawk take the shocks out of the car?"

"He just might have," Billy yelled back. He whooped as they got to the straighter part of the road and he was able to really open up. "I think that man is nuts sometimes."

Machiavelli held both his arms out the window, feeling the wind rush around his fingers. "You're both nuts," he shouted.

~MB~

"And she took the money?" Machiavelli asked curiously. They had just dropped John off at his house after a long day of painting the house. Billy had somehow convinced the boy's mother to accept the money John had earned, much to the amazement of the boys.

Billy shrugged, pulling out onto the road. The Italian expected him to take a right at the end of the long drive way, but Billy spun the wheel in the opposite direction instead. "I have a way with women," Billy said, flashing a smile at Machiavelli. His large teeth shone white in the moonlight. "I just told her that I had worked her boy to the bone the last couple of days and that I wasn't going to leave without giving her the money."

"She seems like a very stern woman. I'm surprised she didn't frighten you," Machiavelli commented, taking one last look at the gray house before they disappeared into the tree line. "Where are we going?"

"There's a place at the top of this mountain where there are no trees. You feel so close to the sky, you begin to think you could touch the moon. I wanted to show it to you." Billy fell silent, pressing down hard on the gas as the incline grew steeper. Machiavelli could hear the engine rumble.

The Italian yawned. "We did a lot of work today," he mumbled. His eyelids felt heavy and he tapped at his face sharply to keep himself awake. "Are we there?" he asked as the car stopped.

Billy nodded, pulling Machiavelli out of the car on his side. They walked to the edge of the ridge and sat with their legs hanging in the air. From where they sat, they could see the entirety of the lake below them, the moon illuminating just the shadowy edges of the world around them. "Pretty, isn't it?" Billy said, grinning at him.

Machiavelli nodded dumbly and reached out for Billy's hand. Beneath the star studded sky, he felt insignificantly small. A patch of movement caught his eye and leaning forward, he watched an enormous moose step into the water of the lake, its movements precise and delicate. He leaned heavily into Billy's side.

"Tired?" Machiavelli nodded. Billy stroked the Italian's fluffy brown hair. He glanced at Machiavelli, looked up at the sky, and then quickly, suddenly, kissed him lightly on the top of his head. "Let's go home, then," he said. The outlaw rose and, with one arm beneath his legs and the other behind the boy's back, lifted him up. Machiavelli turned into the man's torso, feeling heavy and warm. He was asleep before Billy even had him completely settled into the car seat.