Getting more new fans and reviews, hooray! Thanks for adding me to your story/author alerts, it encourages me to keep on writing! As always, I don't own anyone except Angel, this laptop, and my beloved Bag of Holding.
When Shilo had thought, in those confused post Opera hours when she had been wandering the streets, about what it might be like to live with Graverobber, she had imagined something completely different than what she was experiencing. Her mind had conjured up an almost romanticized image of living on the streets, sleeping in dumpsters and scrounging for food, staying one step ahead of the Gencops, a rough life. Instead she was sitting in a chair at a kitchen table, safe for the moment while the smells of warm food and the sound of Graverobber's humming filled the air. It felt like a dream, something not quite real that might vanish at any moment.
"I'm not hungry," Shilo said again. Truth be told she wasn't feeling very well at all; she couldn't seem to stop shaking and she felt nauseous. She closed her eyes and put her head in her hands. I'm not sick, I'm not sick, I'm not sick. Shilo heard the beep of the microwave and something being put down on the table moments before she felt his hand tilt her chin up. When she opened her eyes he was looking back at her with an expression that Shilo had trouble deciphering.
"You should still eat something. Keep your strength up." Graverobber pushed the bowl of soup towards her and settled back into the chair across from her. He was tired, she could see that quite clearly, and yet there he was, smiling like nothing was wrong.
Shilo picked up her spoon and stirred the soup idly, it looked like chicken noodle soup, though whether or not the meat was chicken was a good question. It probably would have smelt good if she hadn't felt ill. "Did you ah- make this?"
"What, don't believe I can cook?" Graverobber arched an eyebrow at her. "True, most of my culinary experiences are limited to what I find in dumpsters, but that doesn't mean I'm totally clueless. I'll let you know that soup came out of a non-dented can, from a perfectly clean—well, moderately tidy— all right, hardly had any questionable smells- grocery store."
Shilo managed a smile and a few spoonfuls of soup, then a few more. She realized she was waiting for the questions to start. She kept eating just to have something to do with her mouth, and after a several minutes she looked up from her half empty bowl. He was smiling at her in a way that made him look mildly amused; she was starting to think it was his default expression, at least where she was concerned.
"You're not going to ask me anything?" Shilo toyed with her spoon, willing her stomach to calm down. She didn't want to answer any questions about what had happened, she was still trying to sort out everything that had happened to her, the events that had so quickly spiraled to destruction.
"You don't have to tell me a thing, Kid, not unless you want to, and not until you want to." He cracked his knuckles and leaned forward in his chair. "I heard things though, while taking the long way home. Mostly rumors, some of which have been disproved by the simple fact that you're sitting here, in front of me, alive. Some of what I heard though might have some basis in fact."
Shilo tried not to flinch away when Graverobber put one cool hand against her forehead. She hadn't realized how warm she felt until then, and she was sweating as well as shaking.
"I lied Kid, I would like the answer to one question. They say your father was poisoning you, was that true?"
Shilo closed her eyes, tired again. "He said he was poisoning my medicine. All those years of thinking I was sick like Mom, and it was because… because he didn't want to let me go. And now I feel sick and I don't know how to make it stop."
Graverobber leaned back in his chair. "Sleep will help you, hell, it'll help me too, it's been quite an exhausting night for the both of us, yes?"
"I'm tired of being in bed all the time." Shilo whined, hating how young it made her sound, like a petulant child refusing to nap. "I've spent most of my life in bed."
"Kid, if there's one thing I've learned, never pass up the chance for a few hours of sleep in a comfortable bed, and Angel's bed is pretty comfortable. Of course, if you want something to compare it to you could always try out mine."
Shilo blushed and stood up as Graverobber gently leered at her. "Um—ah—I—"
"Relax, I was teasing. Mostly." The grin didn't leave his face, but it did fade in intensity. "Seriously though, the more rest you get now, the better you'll feel. It's going to take awhile until your body re-discovers what normal is."
"I don't think I know what normal is." Shilo didn't know what she expected in response, a joke maybe.
"No one knows what normal is, Kid, we just keep making up the definition as we go."
Shilo thought about that as she crawled back into bed next to a softly snoring Angel. Just a few days ago, "normal" meant being alone with only her Dad to rely on, being too sick to go outside, dreaming about the world outside. Everything was changing so quickly, what would "normal" look like tomorrow?