Meant to have this posted earlier this week, but came down with the stomach flu which combined with lack of inspiration made it hard to write. But here it is now, long awaited update! Next update should involve everyone's favorite Zydrate dealer, hooray!
I'm making no money off this fanfic, and I own nothing except for Angel, a large collection of Fangoria, and this shiny laptop. As always, constructive criticism and gushing praise always welcome! :p
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Angel managed to hold her hand steady as Shilo stitched, even though the angle was awkward and the pain rather intense. She took another hit of vodka before pushing the bottle away, not wanting to dull her mind too much with the burning liquid. She felt remarkably clear headed for once, though the pain made her think of another time and another place.
The wooden stage was hard under her feet, her muscles trembling with pain and fatigue as she sweated under the hot lights. The leather of her costume clung tightly to her skin as she danced, as she sang. She could not see the audience through the glare of the lights, but she could hear their applause and she smiled. The pain, the rehearsals, it was all worth it just for that sound; another successful performance at the Night Ballet.
"Are you all right?"
Angel blinked, feeling a single tear run down her cheek as she looked at Shilo. The girl was concentrating on her work, not looking at her, her stitches small and neat. It was the second time Shilo had asked Angel that question that morning.
"You're not really asking if I'm all right. You want to know if you're safe with me. You want to know if I'm crazy." Angel wiped away the tear before Shilo could see it. "There's no easy answer to that question, Shilo. I will tell you you're safer here than you would be out on the streets, alone."
"I just meant that this must hurt, is all. You were breathing awfully hard, I thought you might be going into shock. I'll try to go faster."
"Don't rush on my account, I can take it. You're doing a pretty good job there, Shi."
The girl flinched, accidently pulling the thread a little tighter than need be. "Sorry!" she squeaked. It's just that…Dad called me 'Shi.'"
And Nathan was dead, Angel remembered suddenly. She wasn't the only one who had lost a loved one at the Opera. "Shit, I didn't know. Sorry."
"It's all right," Shilo replied, the slight trembling of her voice giving away the lie. Angel said nothing, just watched the needle slide in and out of her flesh for a few more moments before Shilo tied a knot and cut off the excess thread. "Finished."
"I appreciate it." Angel began to bandage the other cuts on her hand, stealing a glance at Shilo as she did so. The girl was pale, her eyes sunken, weary. "I'm sorry for waking you up, I know you haven't got near enough sleep, and I'm sorry for scaring you. I don't always handle my anger very well and I just can't believe that Mag's…" She took a deep breath and pushed her grief aside for a moment. "There's things I could tell you kid, but not today. Let's just focus on what's important. Shilo? You know you can't go home, right?"
Shilo nodded. "I tried, but there were Gencops everywhere. It's not even like I want to live there again, not after--- but I would have at least liked to have some of my clothes and things."
Angel nodded. "It's not safe for you to be seen right now. Rotti named you his heir on live television and though he never signed the will the ownership of GeneCo is still being disputed as we speak, or so the news told me."
"I don't want it." The anger in Shilo's voice doesn't surprise Angel in the least.
"I wouldn't worry about that, you're not going to get it. It's going to be either Luigi or Amber, my personal guess would be Amber. She's an addict, true, but she can be quite charismatic and I suspect she might even have a few brains under all that cosmetic surgery." Angel shook her head. "It hardly matters, either way they'll most likely want you dead, just to be absolutely sure you don't try to take GeneCo or cause them trouble in some other way."
Shilo had turned even whiter than usual; the girl looked like she was about to faint.
"Sorry kid, I'm not one of those people who believes in 'softening the blow.' The truth is you're going to have to lay low for awhile, keep off their radar. Hell, with any luck they might even believe you died on the street, it would certainly be believable. You can stay here with me… unless you have somewhere else you can go."
Shilo shook her head. "Dad kept me in the house all my life, I didn't get to meet a lot of people, and most of them are--- are dead, except for Graverobber."
"Well, I'm not Graverobber, though I know him," Angel smirked as she said that. "I'm just Angel. I'm not what most people would consider sane, my memory doesn't work right, and I have a temper that occasionally rivals Luigi Largo. But I'll never hurt you Shilo, and I'll keep you as safe as I can, if only because you're connected to someone I considered a friend, and someone else I loved so very much." She closed her eyes for a moment, fighting exhaustion and grief in equal measure.
"You knew Mom." It wasn't a question. "That's how you knew my name."
"I did, for all too brief a time, know your mother, and your godmother. I could tell you stories… but not today. You need to go back to bed, get some real sleep, and I need to clean up this mess and take something for the pain so I can sleep." Angel felt her wings twitching, little spasms that seemed to happen whenever she was tired and stressed. Shilo's eyes were wide, fascinated.
"Don't look at me like that," Angel snapped. "It's just fancy surgery kid, a mistake that I've been paying for every day since I went under the knife."
"Sorry." Shilo's voice was a whisper as she got up. "Thank you for um… cleaning me up." There was just the faintest blush to her cheeks.
"Couldn't have you getting blood on my bed. Don't worry kid, you got nothing I haven't seen before." Angel slowly stood, feeling a bit nauseous, probably from blood loss or drinking vodka on an empty stomach. "When you're ready, only when you're ready, I'd like to know more about you and about what happened last night."
Shilo just nodded and Angel could practically see the grief and sorrow settling around the poor girl, an almost crushing weight that Angel knew all too well. "And I might be a little… confused when I wake up, so don't be scared, okay? You might just have to remind me who you are."
"It's the pain, isn't it? Pain helps you focus, keeps you lucid."
"It helps sometimes, and that's all I'm going to say. Go on, go back to bed. You need something to help you sleep?"
"No. No drugs, I've had enough of that."
Angel arched her eyebrows at the anger in Shilo's voice. "Okay then. Sleep well." She turned away, heading into the kitchen and fetching a dustpan and broom. She heard Shilo's footsteps as she walked back to her room and shut the door; only then did she let the tears flow, let the weakness pour out of her. Half blinded by tears she swept up the broken glass, fishing out the pages of a letter as she did so, leaving the blood spattered missive on the kitchen table.
"I should have killed him myself," Angel muttered as she walked into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet, her tone unconsciously slipping into something like song. "I wanted to, Mag, I wanted to kill him, I wanted to save you. You begged me to go, to live my life for you. I shouldn't have listened, I should have tried harder. All I have left are mistakes and regrets; a cold corpse that offers no comfort."
The medicine cabinet was filled with bottles of pills, the labels bearing a variety of names. The Vicodin was an old friend; Angel swallowed two as she walked back out into the hallway. For a moment she just leaned against the wall, staring hard at the room across the way. "You better be all right, now is *so* not the time to get caught."
Angel turned back towards the living room, planning on trying to make herself comfortable on the couch, as hard as that would be for her. Then the sound of muffled sobs reached her ears and made her sigh heavily. "The world has shown you nothing but pain Shilo Wallace, and I have no comfort to offer you. Still, I always was a decent actress." She shook her head as she entered the bedroom, closing the door behind her and slipping into bed. She wrapped her arms around the poor lost girl, whispered all manner of comforting lies to her; 'pain fades, time heals all wounds, everything will be all right,' etc. Soon enough the girl stopped crying and the Vicodin wrapped Angel in its comforting, numbing embrace.