Fanfic for: LiveJournal Community Tomorrow_Fans

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, I'm just a massive fan of both Robyn & Homer

Strange Girl
A fanfic exploring the relationship between Homer and Robyn

I watched her bow her head and pray before grunting in dismissal. I wasn't a religious bloke, even if my mum tried as hard as any good Greek Catholic mother could to get me along to mass on Sundays. I remember going along as a little tacker, probably until I was five or six, but by then dad had expanded the farm. He'd invested in a good 200 head of Queensland Steers, or Drought masters as they're officially known, which everyone in the district thought he was crazy for because although they were prime for beef, they weren't dairy cows which most of the region was into developing these days. So, attending mass was easy to get out of once I learned I could make myself useful on the land, by the age of seven I would be feeding cattle from the back of a four-wheeler or helping dad with fences, I didn't need much encouragement.

I looked at Robyn again. Her eyes were still peacefully closed and her lips moved silently as she spoke to her god.

Crazy, I reckon. After all we've been through, what our families are still going through; I find it difficult to believe that such a God even exists! Even if he did, I don't think he woulda cared too much about us mere humans anyway; greedy, war mongering, murdering lot we were.

I don't see how she could close her eyes and not see everything we've done that's bad in this war, the men and women we've killed, the things we've seen… chris… I know I sure couldn't. I could barely sleep at night for fear of the nightmares that would haunt me sometimes.

I picked up a stick and out of habit, starting breaking it into little pieces and throwing them into the creek absent-mindedly.

I must have distracted Robyn because the next time I looked up, she'd stopped praying and was staring into the flowing water, watching as my dwindling pieces of stick floated downstream.

"What do you hold sacred Homer?" she asked quizzically, still not looking up from the water. She didn't seem annoyed that I seemingly interrupted her, but she had a distant expression on her face.

"Wha?" I asked back dumbly. She was serious, but her question caught me off guard.

She looked at me then, her green eyes curious. For a moment I was entrapped by them and the little flecks of gold that reflected in the sunlight from their depths.

"I mean, what's something that they, the invaders, could never take away from you?" she clarified.

"My freedom," I replied instantly. I felt my chest puff up proudly. It'd been nearly three months since we'd discovered that our country was no longer our own. We'd been pretty good at causing some damage so far and not gotten ourselves caught.

"But they can take away your freedom; look at Kevin and Corrie or our parents…"

She was right, she had me there.

"I dunno, my Greekness, yeah; that's it. Now that's something they'll never get outta me!" I declared.

I saw her lips pull up in a little lobsided smile.

"Well I'm not Greek, I'm a Bitsa," she joked. Bitsa was a slang term that most of us used for someone who's heritage was 'a bit of everything', although if I remember correctly I'm pretty sure her dad had made some ancestry excuses to go to OktoberFest when they were travelling in Europe a couple of years ago, but that's beside the point.

Robyn continued, "But there is one thing they'll never be able to take away from me."

"Aw yeah?" I said, throwing the last of my stick into the creek, "What's that?"

"My faith," she replied simply and shrugged her shoulders, "Some days, it's all I've got left to hold on to, and others I wonder why I am."

I considered what she had to say for a moment. It was a fair enough observation on her part, I suppose having faith in something was a little more important than knowing where your grandparents came from, but I wasn't about to tell her that.

Robyn sure was an unusual girl. We argued, a lot, well, to put it in her terms, we liked a good debate. And she called my shit most of the time, which irked me to no end that she knew me so well and I felt I hardly knew her at all, aside from her being a bit of a religious bossy britches.

We didn't always get along, I think because we were both so headstrong, but she fascinated me in the strangest way. I don't think I've ever had a conversation this deep with her before.

"Look, the way I see it is we all gotta believe in something, y'know?" I shrugged. "You've got your faith in the church…"

"God…" she corrected.

"Yeah, well, God then, and I've got faith in my mother's roast lamb, cause we all know she's the best cook in the district; see?" I added rather cheekily.

She didn't think it was funny, even if I thought so.

I stood up, brushing the leaves and twigs from my pants, "Nah, I guess it's good you've got some faith in God. Someone's gotta be praying for our sins, with all the stuff we've done. If there is a Man Upstairs I'd like to think he'd know what we've done isn't because we're evil or anythin'."

Surprise flittered across her face as she watched me turn to go, "You're not evil Homer, and you're one of the most kind-hearted people I know."

I stopped in my tracks and turned to look at her quizzically.

"Ya think?"

"Yeah," she smiled and then said confidently, "I know it."

"Hmph," I grunted and then continued back to the campfire. Maybe Robyn wasn't so bad after all.

"Even if you are as stubborn as an ox," She said after me, but it was lighthearted.

I grinned to myself, but continued on my way.

'Yep, that Robyn sure was a strange girl, but I kinda think she's ok, pretty smart even,' I thought to myself and went to grab the nearest tree stump I could find to throw on the fire.