Billy wouldn't let Machiavelli do much in the next few days, saying that he wouldn't risk the teenager's health again. Consequently, the Italian immortal found himself confined to the inside of the cabin. And Machiavelli didn't mind so much as long as there was someone home to keep him company.

The two immortals had reached some sort of silent agreement that for as long as Machiavelli wasn't completely well, they wouldn't discuss any of the trouble that had happened at the end of the week.

The adult immortals doted on Machiavelli and he couldn't deny to himself that he was enjoying the attention once more. It reminded him of how much he had enjoyed the beginning of the summer when he was much littler and the others had been freer with their affection. He recognized that part of this came from better behavior on his own part. It would appear that for now, the hormones that had been raging through his body had died down, leaving him with only his recent illness to deal with.

The Flamels were often gone during the day now. Having drawn up the agreement with the bookstore owner, the French couple often went over to help with the daily operations of the shop. This left the cabin much quieter.

Scatty, as it turned out, was not very good at staying inside for long periods of time. She attempted to stay with him for a while, but Machiavelli always released her to the outdoors in the end, feeling that he had been attempting to keep a wild animal in a cage.

This left him predominantly with Billy and he still wasn't exactly sure where he stood with the outlaw. At times, the American immortal was his old self, showering him with affection. But then at other times, Billy could get pensive and distracted.

"Billy?" Machiavelli asked rather timidly the day after they found him, as he still didn't feel like he was on completely even footing with the American. He approached the armchair where the outlaw was sitting and called out to him again. The American immortal looked at him, but still seemed a bit distant, like his head was somewhere else entirely. "Are we going to live in this cabin forever?"

Billy scratched his head. "Well, I've been thinking about that. We probably shouldn't."

Machiavelli's heart plummeted. He had grown rather fond of the cabin, thinking of it as his first real home. "Why not?" he asked, keeping his tone carefully neutral.

Billy reached for his hand. The act was surprisingly reassuring in how it brought them back into physical contact. "Niccolò, you're getting bigger every day. You're beginning to look like you used to, albeit quite younger. If we are being pursued by our old masters, we have to be more careful now."

"But if anything, you'd be more recognizable, you haven't looked different at all," Machiavelli cried out, struggling to contain his emotions.

"But together we're very recognizable. In this isolated spot, it's been easier to stay below the radar especially when you looked so little. I was just a man with a cute, little boy. But now the age gap between us is rapidly closing, don't you see that? It'll be harder to explain to people. Besides," Billy reached out for Machiavelli with both hands, "I didn't intend on us staying here as long as we did."

"So, we're all going to a new spot? That doesn't make sense. Perenelle and Nicholas just made that arrangement with the book store." The Italian was beginning to feel a bit dizzy again in his agitation.

"Well, no. As a group, we're going to stick out no matter where we go. We're going to split up again, just until I can track down my master. I think you're safe from yours for now. He liked you. Anyways, you and I are going to go to one of my other safe houses and Scatty will stay here with the Flamels." Billy watched Machiavelli's face closely as he spoke. Machiavelli's face was rapidly going pale. It hadn't occurred to him that he was going to lose his family group all over again. Not now that he had grown so accustomed to it.

"Mac, you're shaking," Billy said. He pulled the Italian down beside him. "Are you alright, Mac? You just seem on edge all the time."

Machiavelli tilted his head, shielding his eyes with his long lashes. He looked out the window at the sloping lawn cascading down upon the lake. Already, the leaves were falling from the trees. "I don't want the summer to end."

Billy stroked his back. "Mac, you know better than me that we can't stop time from going on." Machiavelli nodded slightly. "Besides, we can have fun in different places. I promised you I'd make your life fun. Remember we said we'd see Germain in concert?"

"I thought we were going to restore a car together."

"We can still do that," Billy said gently. "And I told you I'd teach you to drive. We've got a lot left to do." He hesitated before pecking Machiavelli on the temple. "I'm going to miss the others too. But for now this is our safest bet."

"I guess. But why didn't you ask me before you made all of these plans?"

Billy rubbed circles on the Italian's back. "Yeah, I should have sweetheart. I'm sorry about that." The outlaw folded the teenager into his side, keeping one arm wrapped around his middle, as if to keep him from running away. Billy really surprised Machiavelli with what he said next. "I'm not the only one guilty of making decisions without consulting the other one of us though, you know."

Machiavelli looked over at Billy, but the American immortal was looking out the front windows at the lake. "You mean, me running away?" Billy nodded slightly. "I," his mouth was suddenly dry, "I thought you were mad at me. I didn't think you wanted me anymore."

Billy glanced at him with a little surprise. This seemed to be a new revelation to the young looking man. "You're my partner. I always want you around." Machiavelli was beyond words. A small part of his heart seemed to unclench at Billy's admission.

Billy, on the other hand, seemed a little uncomfortable with what was rapidly unfolding. It seemed like at last they had reached a point where he felt he had said too much, versus Machiavelli who consistently felt that way around his young American friend. "Do you want to do this now? Or wait until you're better?"

"I think we should have our talk now," Machiavelli said decisively. He had finally come to the conclusion that he wouldn't feel completely better until he had cleared the air with the man he had come to love so much.

Billy sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right. We'll both feel better." He crossed his legs underneath him so that he was sitting Indian style on the couch. He seemed to be struggling with something. "Why'd you think I didn't want you around anymore? I didn't think I reacted that badly that night."

Machiavelli felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. This was a point that had clearly bothered Billy. "Well, I've been so bad, lately," he said, stumbling over his words. "And I knew I really let you down that night. And then," his throat closed on the words, "I had that- that"

"You had a nightmare," Billy said helpfully, leaning forward slightly.

"How'd you know about that?" Machiavelli asked suspiciously. "The girls?"

"Scatty."

"Well, yeah, I had a nightmare," Machiavelli conceded very quietly. He looked down at his shoes. "I have it all the time."

"You see me dying?" Billy asked carefully. He waited until Machiavelli nodded. "Huh," was the outlaw's first response. "But you know I'm not going to leave you anytime soon."

Machiavelli tore his eyes off of his shoelaces. Somehow, Billy had proved again that he could be very perceptive. "Well, that's not really true is it? I'm what, 15 now? Once I'm an adult again, we'll be going our separate ways."

Billy was quiet. "I suppose. If that's what you want."

"Want?" Machiavelli swallowed thickly. "No, it's not really what I want." The two immortals stared at each other, neither of them saying anything. Both seemed equally afraid to break this sudden silence.

"It's not what I would like either," Billy said finally. He messed up his hair with both of his hands. "I think we've said enough today, Mac. Want to watch a movie?"

"What movie?" Machiavelli asked evenly.