Title: The Intern

Chapter Title: Life Afterwards

Rating: T to M, but this chapter is a chaste K. 3.

Summary: A surprising father figure, and a rival heiress are the first stepping stones to a new life but one must understand the past to go foward. (Implied Amber/Graverobber, future Largocest).

Author Notes: I hope you enjoy this fic. This is the first chapter of many to come. I am currently living in Switzerland so my English is kind of . . . horrible, thanks to the fact that I am trying to learn German. So any constructive critisism is lovely! Also, I would like to say that this is not a Graverobber x Shilo fiction. I have this horrible fear that people may start reading this for the Grilo . . . but, it just is not going to happen. So, sorry if I scared you away with the honesty! But, anyways, enough of my rambling, enjoy the fic!

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Shilo's wig of sleek, black hair covered her bald head. The fact that it could cause her to be recognizable caused a small pinch of fear in her heart. After appearing in front of thousands of people at the Genetic Opera, after rejecting GeneCo as her future, and after abandoning her past; the last thing she wanted was strangers asking why she abandoned the ideal career. This left her with two choices: go bald or choose another color. Laughing slightly at the proposition she gave herself, Shilo made herself a compromise. Let her hair remain bald. Let the world gawk. She was seventeen, she was on her own, and she was tired of the deception that seemed to dictate so much of her life. And so she was stuck on the streets; not only just a young girl, but a thinning, bald, young girl.

The first week passed simply. She controlled her emotions and did not visit her house. Instead, Shilo found herself roaming from poor house to poor house. Her last bit of pocket money went to food and she spent many hours at her mother's tomb. She did not exactly pray as she sat there, instead she found herself searching for some sort of answer. 'Did father really poison you on purpose? Then, why? Why did you get involved in the Largo family?'

The second week proved more difficult. The inevitable weakness of youth caved in and Shilo would pass the place she once called a home. She would look up at the window she used to gaze out of as she dreamed of a new world; a world of glamour and singing. A regretful sigh passed through her lips as she thought of Blind Mag's death; the falling from the ceiling, the landing on a fence of spikes; much like those that lined her house. It was only natural that Shilo would eventually open the doors to her former home and go to her room in a search for security.

And as the third week came by, it was only natural that the seventeen-year-old was homesick, hungry, and lonely. She would occasionally pass by her home, but for the most part she wandered. The girl had not a place to go to call home. Freedom was no longer the bask of happiness she thought it would be. Instead, it was a stinging feeling of reality. Images of Zydrate addicts invaded her mind for it was the last thing she wanted to become. Though she wouldn't consider herself depressed, it was entirely impossible to say that in this third, rather difficult week of being alone Shilo lost a certain sense of self. She did feed herself with what she could find, however, she found herself spending more time at her mother's grave and Blind Mag's grave in a state of nothingness. It was in one of these moments that her cycle of homesickness was broken.

"Are you going to stay and stare at their grave's for the rest of your life?"

Shilo's eyes quickly fluttered to stare at the man standing in front of her; he was easy to identify from his easy swagger and dark demeanor. He was the infamous Graverobber. The man that saved her life not only once, but twice and she felt herself indebted to him. So instead of shrugging him off, she smiled a little bit, "Just today," she answered, hoping he would believe this was the only time she visited the grave.

The Graverobber gave a cocky, though altogether not cruel, laugh, "Please, I work in these yards. And after three weeks, I decided that I should intervene," he paused to assess the young girl in front of him -- he was perfectly aware that she was not the type to start turning tricks and that she would never help in selling Zydrate which left her usefulness at a stunning minimum, "I have an extra room at my place. You can stay there until you get everything sorted out."

The now-bald girl wanted to trust the Graverobber but a certain doubt constantly shrouded her opinion of him; by staying at the house of a drug pusher she was not only putting herself in the danger of the law but who was to say if the Graverobber wanted her to stay for completely chaste reasons. It was with this mindset that she spoke up, her eye's meeting with his in a search for sincerity, "What is the catch? Y-you know I cannot afford to stay."

"No catch," he said with a slight shake of his head, "You are not naive, Shilo. But you can rest assured, I do not want anything from a seventeen year old girl who has lost her family," he gave a smirk at his own kindness, "consider this my charity work for the year."

There were a million reasons for Shilo to say 'no' however, she sensed the trace of humility in the older man's voice and took it for a deep-rooted honesty. This honesty caused a short, brief sting in Shilo's heart. In all her logic, with everything that she had read and everything that she had seen in her life she could not place a reason for this kindness. But, being a smart girl she knew a good thing when it was put in front of her head in a habit of shyness, she spoke up, "Where do you live?"

It was with this strange, (dare she say it?) man of crime, that Shilo found a new home. It was not a glamorous place. Rather it was exactly what people saw on television crime programs. His apartment had two bedrooms, both with not a bed post but simply a mattress on the ground and with walls covered in the dust and filth of time. There was a bathroom, much in the same condition as the bedrooms, and a kitchen which doubled, as the Graverobber put it sarcastically, "as the family room."

They fell into a familiar pattern. During the day, Shilo would walk around, attempting to figure out a plan for her life. She would eventually come home and eat something from the surprisingly full food cabinet of the Graverobber and switch on the television in hopes of finding some sort of answer in her search for a meaning or purpose. While she watch the early evening programs, the Graverobber would rise from bed and greet her courteously with small 'hellos' and 'good evenings.' For reasons beyond her, he never asked about when she was going to move out. Instead his questions bordered on the fatherly (or, depending on one's perspective, motherly).

"Are you doing better?" he would ask before reminding her that she was free to take anything she wanted from the kitchen. Shilo would nod her head, and kindly remind him that she was perfectly aware while mentally reminding herself not to take advantage of this amazingly kind man.

Yet, the reminders that the Graverobber's career and lifestyle were anything but chaste constantly remained. On the rare occasion Shilo would dare herself a question of curiosity, he would either give his all-too-aware-of-the-world smile and shake his head slowly without giving the slightest hint of an answer or, taking a turn of honesty he would reply, "Helping some people," he would pause as if searching for the right word, "with the agony."

After a month of this life, Shilo could not help herself. She felt not only the desire, but the need, to question the Graverobber's motives. This was in part due to the unrest in Shilo`s conscious concerning his lifestyle but also because she could not understand why a man who was clearly independent, and seemingly did not want anything from her, would keep her in his home for so long. Clearing her throat, on one of their typically early evenings, she spoke up in the most serious voice she could muster, "Why . . . are you letting me stay here?"

The man seemed alarmed with the question as his eyebrows raised, "Are you not happy here?"

"Of course not!" She said with an edge of defensiveness in her voice, "You are such a good person and I love it here. But you have no reason . . . and . . . "

The Graverobber rose his hand in a way that showed he was used to attention and signaled that Shilo be quiet, "I think it is time I told you something, I will tell you this only once. You will not ask about it ever again but, please, keep this in mind when you think about questioning my motives," he smiled as softly as one can imagine a man of his type could, "When I was your age, seventeen exactly, I met a lovely girl. She was pregnant with my child, and, she had the baby," his face was not traced with the sadness one would expect, instead the Graverobber looked strong; as if his story was simply one of those facts of life, "and the mother left. I do not know if my child is a boy or a girl, if they are alive or dead . . . I know absolutely nothing. And, you," with this he let his serious face break into a small smile, "are my repentance. Please, do as you wish. When you want to leave, the door is open. However, you are not obligated to leave." Shilo opened her mouth to reply but the Graverobber cut her off, "I have to go to work," there was the ever-present sarcastic sting to his words. To announce his departure, he tipped his head like a perfect gentleman and left the apartment.

The Graverobber's words provided Shilo with a much needed comfort. An excuse for what was happening and why. It was only after this brief encounter (which was not followed up with a second mention of the child) that the young girl allowed herself to truly relax in the house. Karma had put the two of them together, and the Graverobber's sense of greater good provided her with a home. It was with this sense of home, and happiness, that Shilo began to seriously look for some sort of means to support herself. These means materialized in the form of an old bakery by the apartment where an older man seemed ecstatic at the prospect of a young girl joining the industry, "You'd be amazed," he would scowl, "but almost all the young women are becoming Genterns these days." He would then smile at Shilo and playfully criticize her short hair; for her once-bald head was only just starting to form a small tuft of hair on her head. She found it utterly unattractive but resolved to keep it with the expectation that it could only improve.

With a life that suddenly seemed at peace; Shilo's days turned into weeks and weeks into months. Graverobber became somewhat of an older brother, leaning towards father figure to her and she found that trusting him was altogether simple. He never hesitated to give her the 'facts' of life when she asked, and when he questioned her she would answer honestly. Under the stability provided by her new home; Shilo began to save her money from the bakery. She kept it in a small box, decorated with Rococo swirls of cream and small fragments of pink flowers. The money was saved with no particular goal in mind, but rather with a vague idea of something better in the future; perhaps moving out, perhaps buying a new dress.

If one was to look at Shilo's situation from an outside point of view, it would be easy to file her life away under the category 'boring.' However, for the young woman, this life proved the complete opposite. Given the freedom she waited, prayed, and wished for, for so long - she found the world not to be as exciting as she once thought. Rather, she enjoyed the simple things such as walking through the streets, reading the tabloids selling from kiosks, and finding new bugs for her , most amazingly, no one seemed to recognize or care who she was. It was in this pattern of peaceful life that she was left, one early evening, to watch television.

It was a new station that she was watching; something sponsored by Geneco's rival company, LifeInc. It was almost a joke, really, watching the two companies battle it out. Geneco would produce a new vocalist, and LifeInc would quickly follow with one of their own and vice versa. But Shilo could not help herself, she enjoyed watching LifeInc's newest singer on stage. The singer was a mysterious, gorgeous, raven-haired beauty by the name of Celestina who was also the oldest daughter of LifeInc's CEO and, thusly, was expected to inherit the company. Given her past, and her age, Shilo was naturally caught up in the celebrity mayhem and tried her hardest to catch every program over Celestina.

During commercial, a time where Shilo normally drifted off, her attention was caught as a loud voice and large letters blinked across the screen: "CELESTINA MAKES CONTROVERSIAL STATEMENT: WHO IS THE REAL HEIR TO GENECO?" A flash of the television followed and the beautiful Celestina Cyrill was giving a statement in her cool, collected voice, "I think everyone who saw the Genetic Opera is more than aware that Amber Sweet, or Largo, or whatever she is calling herself these days," she waits a moment as a small giggle breaks out within the reporters, "is not the real heir to Geneco. It is the daughter of Nathan Wallace, Shilo Wallace . . . did the late Rottissimo Largo not make that clear?" A picture of Shilo appeared in the top, right corner of the television; she had her long, black hair in the picture and she gave a silent thanks that she gave up her wig.

Yet, regardless, this attention made her nervous. What if people went searching for her? It was something that was completely unwanted from her end. Yet, the early evening turned into a late evening and as night came so did sleep. For one last night, Shilo was left in peace.

The next evening came, and Shilo had removed all her fears away with the logic a person normally uses when put in situations when they expect the worst; 'Who would bother to go look for me? Does anyone care except Celestina Cyrill? Of course not . . . I am worrying for absolutely nothing.' With this logic rushing over her, for the first time during her entire stay at the Graverobber's apartment she heard a tapping on the door. Her already-wide eyes widened and she glanced up at the man sitting across from her, "Who could that be?" She asked with a slight feeling of fear building up in her stomach.

"You tell me," he responded rather suddenly before standing up an answering the door out of site from the young girl in his living room/kitchen. But though she could not see them, she quickly recognized the unforgettable voice of Amber Sweet,

"You came to my house for a hit? You know this is a breaking of the customer-worker barrier."

"No, I am here to see your . . . heh . . . jailbait."

"Please, you know your the only the woman for me."

And indistinguishable moan. A short chuckle of familiarity.

"Shilo, Amber Sweet is here for you."

Graverobber was perfectly aware the younger girl was listening and felt no need to yell the guest's name. Rather he announced the guest in a slow, almost sarcastic way. Shilo, almost shyly appeared at the door and was greeted with a site that she had hoped to forget. The stunningly sexy Amber Sweet with her two handsome, male bodyguards. Trying to appear somewhat self-assured, Shilo abandoned manners and questioned abruptly, "Yeah?"

The older woman rolled her eyes, "Dear, you watch the news, right?" She did not wait for an answer, "Then you are perfectly aware of the hot topic you have become. And I was thinking . . . since you are the rightful heir to Geneco, you might want to join our ranks."

"No, never,"

Shilo's answer was so simple it elicited a small curse from Amber before she put back on her business smile, "Trust me, dear, I do not want you to join us either. However, with the bad press we're getting," she allows a pause of consideration, "all you'd have to do is come to the company for a couple of weeks. Once the press cools down you can go back to your life with him," she said it with a fond disgust, "and your bakery job."

Standing there, Shilo glanced at Graverobber hoping for some sort of reassurance but the man shrugged his shoulders in submission.

With a million considerations rushing through her mind, a million pros and cons; she opened her mouth and replied:

"O-Okay."