Chapter Two: Nothing but Ashes, Nothing but Dust

Graverobber's eyes opened slowly. The light was sharp as needles.

Holy fuck, that's bright–

As everything came into focus, he realized that a ring of people stood around him. They were either midgets or small children.

What the hell is this, Snow White?

"Alright, everyone, make a path," a decidedly feminine voice ordered. The wave of children/midgets parted, and Shilo came into his vision, kneeling beside the bed.

A bed. That's what he was lying on.

"Kid–"

"Sssh," she soothed. She was holding a damp washcloth in her hands, and she pressed it against his forehead. "You're really hot."

He laughed. "You too."

She rolled her eyes. "That's not what I meant."

"I know," he wheezed. He twisted his head to try and get a view of his shoulder, and spikes of pain shot through him. "Augh!"

"Don't try to move." Shilo gestured a metal dish, the kind doctors used. At the bottom lay a bloody metal slug. "I managed to get the bullet out and stitch you up, but you could open the wound up if you move."

"Shi," one of the kids broke in, a freckly girl with curly brown hair. "Isn't he a graverobber?"

Shilo sighed. "He's a good man, Hannah."

"But we're not supposed to help graverobbers–" another, blond girl cut in.

"Lilly…" Shilo knelt at eye level with the blond girl and put her hands on her shoulders. "I know the law says that we aren't supposed to help them, but the law isn't always right. I know that this man is my friend, and I know that he has helped me before. So I'm going to return the favor."

Friend? Since when have I been her friend? All I've done is get her into trouble…

"Hannah and Azura, check the soup. It should be done. Lilly, Oliver, Damian–clear out. I'm gonna need to talk to my friend a minute."

The children swept out of the room rapidly. Shilo set about to propping Graverobber up with pillows.

"Why…are you helping me?" he rasped, wincing. His throat felt dry as concrete.

Shilo lifted a mug to his lips. "Drink," she ordered. "It's oolong tea. It's good for you."

He choked back a couple sips of the bitter, dark liquid as Shilo watched carefully. When he was done, she stood up with the mug and went to place it on the dresser. As she turned away, he managed to get in a good look at her.

Without her father's poison in her veins, her hair had grown down past her shoulders, thicker and wavier than the wig. She was a little taller and much more filled out, breasts pushing against her blouse and hips sloping gently under her skirt. Her face had lost its round youthfulness. Her cheekbones and chin were more defined, her eyes no longer cartoonishly large against the rest of her face. He noticed, as well, the faint blush coloring her cheeks.

She seemed much healthier and happier than two years. Which was understandable, considering all she'd been going through the last time he'd seen her.

"Where've you been?" she asked, returning from her trip to the dresser. She sat at the edge of the bed.

"I don't know. Places. Answer my question first."

"Honestly? I missed you."

She missed me? Why–

"I've seen the posters. Wanted–Graverobber. Dead or alive," she recited, interrupting his train of thought.

"Yep, that's me," he replied smugly. "I didn't know that bitch Amber thought I deserved my own posters."

"How can you joke about this? The whole island's after you!"

Graverobber let out a slow breath and tried to crack his neck. The pain jabbed at him again, and he stopped. "I've been through a lot, Kid. This is nothing."

Shilo eyed him dubiously. "Have you really been on the run for two years?"

"Just about."

"I was worried about you," she confessed. "I looked for you for awhile. After some time I gave up. I convinced myself you weren't coming back."

"Why'd you look for me?" he asked. "You barely knew me."

"You were the first person I'd ever seen besides my dad–in real life, I mean. Not on TV. You represented everything I'd never been allowed to experience," she replied.

Graverobber didn't know how to respond. He watched her fidget with her hands for a moment, obviously embarrassed she'd shared that with him. After a moment, the door opened, and the girls she had called Hannah and Azura came in with a bowl of soup.

"Thank you," she said to them, taking it from Hannah's hands.

Azura, a brunette of eleven or twelve, peered at the man on Shilo's old bed. "Is he gonna sleep there?"

"I'm afraid he's going to have to until he heals."

"Then where are we going to sleep?"

"How about this," Shilo said. "You can move the mattresses downstairs into the foyer. That way you can be near the fireplace."

Later that night, Shilo stepped out of the shower and pulled her white nightgown over her head. In the bedroom, Graverobber lay asleep, or close enough. She had helped him spoon the soup into his mouth and arranged the pillows so that he could rest, but she didn't know what else she could do except for let him be and hope the bullet wound healed quickly.

Shilo picked up her hairbrush and pulled it through her hair, carefully combing out any snarls. At first, it had been strange having hair actually connected to her head–hair that hurt when tugged.

There was a laundry list of things that took getting used to, though–like the weight and tenderness of larger breasts and the growing pains of lengthening bones. Her body seemed to be making up for whatever her father had put a stop to–and that meant flying through growth spurts at an agonizing rate. Shilo had begun to menstruate a week after she stopped taking the so-called medicine, and a week after that she had gone from being bald to having an inch of downy hair on her head.

Not that she minded. She didn't look fragile anymore. She looked more solid, stronger–like her mother.

She had been careful to keep her mother's portraits up on the walls, even as they became cluttered with children's watercolors and photos of birthdays and Christmasses. It was a hard thing, having to balance out her old life and her new one.

With a contented sigh, she made sure her hair was sufficiently tangle-free before leaving the bathroom and entering the bedroom. Graverobber's eyes were closed, eyelids twitching as his eyes moved beneath them. Shilo watched him for a moment, wondering what he dreamed about. She had never seen him this relaxed, this vulnerable. Without the confident grin and the lecherous, twinkling eyes, he looked like some sort of fairytale prince, with his hair streaming around him in a multicolored halo and his skin white and smooth as ivory.

Wrapping her arms around one of the bedposts, Shilo leaned against it and watched him. There was something so magnetically enticing about him.

Shilo could feel the heat at the bottom of her abdomen, and she chastised herself silently.

You're acting like a lovestruck moron, Shi. You aren't attracted to the Graverobber–you barely even know him.

Still, she could remember the night she had collapsed in the cemetery, the night she'd first met him. The deep rumble of his voice, his dark eyes, the smile that curled his painted lips had made her feel things he never knew she could feel before. Many a night she had dreamed of those large, rough hands roaming over her skin, those grinning lips on her throat...

He had been her awakening into desire.

Desire…maybe one of the first good feelings I'd ever had in my life.

She laughed softly, and then checked herself to make sure she didn't rouse him.

A/N: Okay, couldn't think of a good cutting-off place for this chapter. Hope that was okay. Read and review, plehz! Nathan promises he'll do a silly dance for every review I get!