" "What?"

"The girls in the alley, silly." "

Wait.. so does this mean…

Of Course she was bonding with the Drug Addicts!

"Next yer gonna tell me you've invited them fer dinner…" the words were out of his mouth and in the air before he could fully think about what he'd just said.

"Well yeah, they're due here Tuesday. Ari's even going to bring her daughter and I'm really excited! I finally get to cook for a full house." Shilo was absolutely beaming, her excitement causing her to miss the slight level of sarcasm in Graves' voice. She wandered up to her room, starting to dislodge the leathers on her way, happily chirping about what she needed to get ready, what things she wanted to make. Graves followed behind her, a little dumbstruck.

"I think a nice stew would be good, right Graves? They seem like they could use a nice hot, stick-to-your-bones meal." Graverobber leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, one ankle laced over the other. He'd taken to wearing his boots in the house again because the buckles and plates helped keep his ankle from jarring around too much when he wandered.

"Yeah, kid, sounds great…" he was trying to be excited for her, he really was. But the thought of letting those people in her house, letting them see where he was living… Yeah, he'd be willing to admit not all of the Zaddicts were bad people. Pick your sad-but-true story; low self-esteem, parents didn't pay them enough or maybe too much attention, couldn't handle the pressure of day-to-day life.

Though it was untrue that all Scalpel Sluts worked as prostitutes, not all of them held productive places in society. Many held regular 9-5 jobs, had families or kids; in fact quite a few of his most frequent customers day-lighted as GeneCo's own GENterns. Mothers and Homemakers who slipped on ripped lingerie and snuck out, just needing a little something blue to help get them through one more family dinner, one more round of PTA meetings.

Graves realized he'd lost himself in thought because he blinked and suddenly the kid was standing right in front of him, leathers and jacket removed and hung on the bedpost, her head cocked to the side watching him and looking worried.

"Graves? Are you okay?" he jerked out of his thoughts and gave her a half grin,

"Yeah, kid, I'm fine. All this talk about food's sorta making me hungry." Perfectly logical explanation.

Perfectly expressed Lie.

What?

Nothing. Don't listen to me; you never do, so why start now? Her eyebrows were still knotted together like she didn't completely believe him,

"O-okay. Whatever you say…Want to go scrounge something up to eat?"

"You do know she's smarter then the child you perceive her as, right?" Mag's voice came from behind him, Graves resisted the reaction to jump a little at the sudden proximity. It'd been days since Shilo first ventured out into the world of drug peddling and had been out twice more both to harvest and sell. She wasn't allowed to do both in the same night anymore after how much pain she was in when she went to bed that morning, and how tired she was. He hadn't seen Mag since the two of them had broken him out of GeneCo.

He turned to face her, she was still clean faced, but she was still wearing her feathered corset and tulle train. Forever trapped in the costumes she was forced to live in.

"I don't see her as a child." Graves protested, Mag just arched a graceful eyebrow.

"Then why refer to her as such?" Eyes widening just a bit, Graves stared at the Opera Star blankly for a bit. What was she talking about? When he asked her, her only response was,

"If you don't know, then I won't tell you." With that tracing hint of a smile that had always annoyed him.

Is this the feeling people get when I smirk like that?

The overwhelming urge to hit you? Yes. Graves rubbed his face with one hand and couldn't help but let out a little growl.

"Isn't it about time for you to let your God-daughter in on your being here?" he glanced up at her, his trademark smirk barely hidden by his hand against his face. "After all, it's not polite since you are her 'guest'."

Got her on the good manners. Along with her grace and gentle demeanor, Mag was always polite and well behaved. It was why Rotti had never seen her defiance coming.

People will always surprise you when they've had enough. After all, when it comes right down to it, we're all just animals and we don't like being kept in cages.

Mag actually stopped, that teasing smile fading from her face, replaced with one of mingled worry and hope.

"You may be right…" she drew herself up to her full height, which in those boots was quite a sight and her pleasant mask slid into place. A real sign that she was nervous; Graves stepped forward without thinking, muscle memory taking over. He reached up and brushed her bangs off her face, tenderly remembering this look, it was the same stance she got right before every performance, every event. This was Mag's brave face.

"What are you worried for? She loved you and still does." Mag gave him a little glare for seeing right through her, she always did, but she smiled nonetheless.

"Graves? Who are you talking to?" Shilo's voice came from the doorway; it looked as though she'd been standing there for a minute and her face was hard to read.

"You're Godmother."

Subtle as a brick, you jackass.

It's like ripping the Band-Aid off real quick?

"Hey kid! Your dead Godmother, the one you idolize but have never really got a chance to spend time with? She's totally standing right in front of me." Just see how well this goes over.

Graves realized his hand was still resting against Mag's cheek, something he hadn't even realized. He let his hand drop as Shilo came across the room to stand beside him, her hand brushed his and she looked sad.

"Oh, Graves… I miss her too…"

Go ahead, we both know you want to. I couldn't stop you even if I wanted to.

"No, kid, like I'm talking to her right now. She's standing right here."

Shilo's head snapped up and she looked at him strangely, eerily like he'd lost his mind.

"Graves…how long have you been having hallucinations? After trauma like you sustained these are things you need to tell me."

"No, kid she's really there! Maggie-bird, tell her, please?" He grabbed for her hands, pleading. He could handle being a criminal, he could handle being a poor excuse for a human being, but his mind was always something he took pride in. He couldn't have the kid thinking he was crazy, couldn't have her thinking he'd lost it, especially that he'd lost it at the hands of the Freakshow that nearly ran the whole damn world.

Of course his hands went straight through hers, no comfort there; but she smiled at him tenderly. There was a brief pause; Mag even flickered in Graves' sight for a moment, but suddenly he heard a gasp from beside him, alerting him to the fact that the kid could see her now too.

"…Mag?" she whispered, "How…when…?"

"She's been here since we were in GeneCo. She helped keep me sane until you rescued me." He smiled down at Mag and wrapped one arm around Shilo's shoulders. His kid and his Maggie-bird.

The two girls had disappeared for the rest of the night, Shilo talking excitedly a mile a minute as she tried to drag Mag up the stairs; but settled for leading the way. And while Mag had become a much more frequent addition in their lives, Shilo started to get quieter. She was much more focused on the upcoming dinner for her new Zaddict friends. She continued going out at night, either to harvest or sell. Graves could barely get an argument across edgewise anymore.

Sure, since he'd moved in they'd fallen into a quiet routine, but it was a comfortable silence, not like this one. This one was silent, making it feel like the tomb that was connected to the house. Shilo ended up talking with Mag a lot, quietly, finally having the "girl-talk" that she never got growing up.

Graves was just setting the dishes in the drainer to dry when he heard the door click. He wiped his hands on his cargos and wandered out to meet her.

Regular househusband you've become huh? The Zydrate King reduced to a mere Kitchen Boy.

I'm so in no mood for your bullshit tonight.

As he drew closer, he saw tears standing out in the kid's eyes, but it was obvious that she was trying so hard to keep them in.

"Kid? Kid what happened?" Shilo shook her head, almost like she didn't trust her voice. She dropped his holsters and coat on the floor near the door; then moved with the air of hurry but with painfully slow steps up the stairs. She held tight to the banister as Graves watched, a knot of worry clenching in his stomach and chest. She always treated his things with a kind of mis-placed reverence; she'd never just throw them down like schoolbooks on the first day of summer. Graves swept up the stairs after her, the hardware could wait. But she was already in the bathroom, door shut and the shower on. Graves tried the knob, but of course it was locked. He knocked,

"Kid?"

"Go Away." Came the response, but the water made it hard to judge the tone of her voice through the heavy wood of the door.

"Kid, what's up?"

"Can you just, leave me alone for now? I'll be out later."

What's up with her?

Female problems? I don't know; just go get her bed ready to be slept in. She'll want to crash when she comes out. This seemed the best plan since it was more then obvious that she wasn't going to let him in or even talk to him until after her shower.

Bed: Made.

Covers: Un-tucked and plentiful.

Lights: Dimmed.

Bedside Table: Cookie-d.

Pillows: Fluffed.

He might not be very savvy when it came to around the house things, but when it came to clicking into what a girl liked and wanted quickly, Graves had a pretty decent handle on things. He sat on the edge of the bed, heel jiggling in its heavy boot as he waited for her to come back.

Sometime later, Shilo came in, wrapped in a large fluffy white towel, her cheeks bright pink from the water, head down, wig in place. A bolt of lust shot through Graves as she walked in, not even bothering to worry that she wasn't wearing much.

"Kid, come here." He tried to keep his voice from showing exactly how much he was enjoying the view. She didn't even argue, she just came over and stood in front of his knees, one hand buried in the front of the towel to hold it closed, through the flash of high thighs every time she took a step was more then distracting. He put these thoughts on the back burner for now and reached out and took her small, white hands in his own rough ones, "What's up? Are ya okay?" She started to nod, but tears threatened to overspill her eyes again.

"I can't…" she whimpered, the tone of her voice broke the heart Graverobber hadn't been completely sure he still had.

"Can't what, kid you ain't gotta do shit. Come lay down, here." He pushed her thick pile of blankets a little further away so she could crawl in. She shook her head,

"Everything hurts… why won't it stop?" her voice hitched and it broke Graves' heart again.

The Withdrawals.

How could he have let it slip his mind? She'd been working so hard lately taking care of his sorry, weakened ass. Here she'd been crawling through bodies, drawing Z from their skulls; walking a mile or so to and from his main alley almost every night; preparing for her dinner party to make the lives of a few addicts better for a brief shining moment. Above all, she'd been keeping a straight face, a brave face. She hadn't said a word about anything.

I'm the worst human being, ever.

Jack the Ripper ain't got nutin' on you, boy.

Shut up.

"Kid, come here, lay down." He gave her hands a gentle tug, barely more then a slight pressure. Not bothering getting dressed or even letting go of his hands, Shilo allowed herself to be helped into bed. She curled up on her stomach amid her stuffy army; Graves rotated on the bed and started to rub her bare back with one hand. "I can tell ya've been carryin' the world. There's knots the size of baseballs in these little shoulders of yours." He was teasing, trying to get her to smile. "Want me to get them for you?" she shook her head into the pillow,

"Not now.. just.. lay down? I'm so tired…" Graves shifted a bit more and stretched out next to her, his dark pants and leather boots a stark contrast from her white blankets and sheets. "But I have so much to do still…"

"Like what?"

"Finish cleaning the house, your stock's getting low, I need to sell tomorrow night.. and I still need to go to the store and get the food and start cooking…and-" she let out a groaning growl.

"Hey, hey, hey…easy. You don't need to go out and do my job anymore."

"But your-"

"No. I'm puttin' my foot down, kid. I'm fine, no lasting trama. I can do take care of harvesting and selling again. So that's two down. As for cleaning and goin' to the store, we can go to the store together tomorrow, after you've slept and yer feeling better."

Okay… maybe this wasn't the best plan I've ever had. Graves was standing in front of Shilo's full-length mirror feeling ridiculous. He was still wearing his own pants, but they weren't tucked into his boots as they usually were and he was wearing only his dark blue tee shirt. Frankly, he was feeling quite exposed considering how much clothing he usually wore out. His face was washed clean of all his greasepaint and his hair was brushed out and braided back off his face.

I look like a tool.

Yeah. I'm not even gonna argue.

"Graves?"

"In here, kid." Shilo came wandering into the room, a blond dreaded wig in place on her head, her legs incased in a pair of black leggings and she was wearing a longer purple tee-shirt with a cat's skeleton on the front as a dress. She froze when she came into the room and stared at him for a minute. "What?"

"Y-you look really different."

"Yeah, I look like a jackass."

Yes, yes you do. Instead of agreeing, Shilo walked forward, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.

"Different doesn't mean bad."

A/N: Slightly longer chapter as I build steam back up again. Thanks for baring with me guys. Lots of plot to come! Remember Reviews let me know I'm doing something right!