"You stupid thing," Auntie declared as she dragged Robin to a chair. The glass was broken on the floor. Milk had spilled.

Robin's head hurt, and she was cold, the chills breaking over her in waves, cold like winter wind. She was dizzy. "Sick? You're sick? To useless to live, I should just throw you out!" Auntie was mad. Robin hunched down, but no blow fell. Not yet, because Auntie was starting to clean it up, and fear cut right through the dizzy feeling.

Auntie would be so much more angry if she had to clean the mess. No, no. Robin shook her head at herself and took a breath, and then another one, until she could stand up.

"Not sick, Auntie," she said. Her voice sounded wrong, so she tried again. Louder and clearer. "I'll fix it!" She rushed forward and took the broom and dustpan.

She could do it, she could. Everything seemed to shrink down to one movement at a time, sweeping the glass, filling the bucket, washing the floor... but she did them all.

After a moment of numbness, the hot sting of the slap began on Robin's face as her aunt's glare bored into her. "I'm sorry," Robin said, making her voice quiet and steady. Auntie didn't like it when she cried, and she was getting good at holding it in even when something hurt, like now.

This time something was different, though. The metal taste in her mouth wasn't new - sometimes the inside of her mouth got cut when Auntie slapped her. But... the tooth behind her left incisor wobbled and there was a sharp throb when she prodded with her tongue.

The next day, she looked in the mirror, pulling the side of her mouth out a little to see. The tooth looked grey, dead, compared to the others, and she could see a faint crack line going up through it. At least it wasn't one of her adult teeth.

For a long time, it hurt to chew, especially when the gum swelled up, but Robin made sure not to chew slow enough for Auntie to see, and she was always ready for her chores.

Something she'd eaten hadn't been good. No telling what, Robin had peeked in the trash behind many restaurants last night, couldn't stay too long at any particular one. She tried to breath slowly, shivering against the alley wall. Her stomach twisted and stabbed at her insides, lurching up towards her throat, but there wasn't anything left.

She stood up, away from the wall, clenched her fists and made herself stand straight. She raised her hands and then slapped and pinched both her own cheeks, hard, pulling colour back into her face so she wouldn't look like she'd been throwing up. She darted back out into the street, hitching her stolen backpack up so she looked like any other student going to the district's school. The library there was supposed to be a good one.

"Hey! Kid!" She froze. She couldn't run now, she'd collapse. Her stomach roiled, and she slowly turned. A man was there, nice suit and fancy shopping bag, holding out one of the purple ribbons she'd found on the sidewalk the other day. So pretty - almost new. Only a little dirty. And not even stolen. "You dropped this."

She swallowed down a surge of bile, fisted one hand hard enough to feel the nails in her palm, and smiled with a delighted expression at the man. "Oooh, thank you sir!" she said, soft and shy, which was the only voice she could do now.

"Run along to school, now," he said indulgently, his eyes softening and that was nearly worse than the stomach pains.

She trotted off obediently, vision darkening around the edges for a moment as she resisted folding over her midsection. Just a little farther.

This place was a backwater, barely a road between a collection of buildings, and she'd hoped for a little breathing room here. The visible bruises were almost faded, but the cracked ribs would take longer, and they were hot and sharp every time she moved or inhaled. The gang leaders she'd fled from at the island's bigger city, and led into the path of a Marine patrol at the cost of taking a few blows, had to be in custody by now. That was no comfort.

And now she stood, arms derisively crossed in front of her as she faced down one of the Wolf Spider gang's recruiters, controlling her breathing to slow, even calmness and glad for the hot sun overhead that would justify the sweat on her forehead.

She ought not to resent this, she'd been leaving hints for them for months. Their information network was promising, and she wanted access to it.

The recruiter shook out the sleeves of his trenchcoat. "Good to finally meet you, Nico Robin," he said. "Shall we?" He settled into a fighting stance.

"My pleasure," Robin slipped on her best smirk, and held it there for the duration. Her ribs burned like hot blades in her side, but at the end she had him pinned and only a few new cuts and bruises for her trouble. She clenched her teeth behind her nod of gracious satisfaction.

"Well hello Miss Allsunday, you look raaaavishing,"

Bon Clay leaned over the table of their private casino booth and made a moue of envy. "I'd do anything for that complexion of yours, no joke at allll."

He sighed heavily, then tapped a finger against his own cheek. He could, of course, have her entire face, but he made neither move nor mention to make her think he was being anything but wistful about the one he was born with.

Robin leaned back, and pretended to take a sip of her tea. This man was one of the most flamboyant crossdressers she'd ever seen. Crocodile let the most varied people into his ranks, and she'd only met a few of the top agents so far, most still on assignment, but this one seemed likely to stay among the most memorable.

"I doubt I can help you there," she said coolly, letting the words convey the warning, no need for anything stronger. She added, eyeing the thick but carefully applied makeup on his face, "I do know of a rather nice foundation you may like, though." His seemed to have suffered a little in the heat.

This encounter could have been worse, she allowed, as he exclaimed enthusiastic interest. And indeed, Bon Clay was pleasant company, compared to most, and the meeting was less of an ordeal than she'd expected.

"Good night, good night, Miss Allsunday," Bon Clay made his farewell. "You look tired-well, of course," he lowered his voice, and she crushed the stab of apprehension at his words before it got anywhere near her face, "our work is rather taxing, Have you tried the luxury suites yet? They are to die for. Take one, call me in the morning!" He giggled.

When he finally danced out the main door, after flourishing a bow and blowing her a kiss with what seemed like surprisingly honest appreciation, she allowed herself to put her hand briefly over the bandage under her jacket and shirt. The stab wound, incurred during her little job last night, was still fresh. Sitting up hurt, breathing hurt, standing was corrosive agony as her stomach muscles bunched and pulled around where they'd been sliced apart.

She let none of that affect her gait or her breathing as she left the booth herself, and headed towards the hotel lobby. Her supplies were upstairs, in her bags in one of the luxury suites, and she hadn't lost much blood. Her hands wouldn't shake.

The door creaked open. "Robin?" Nami's low voice carried through their cabin. "Still reading in here? Supper is - oh?"

Robin had started to rise from where she'd stretched out on her bed, but the motion was interrupted by Nami rushing forward from the door to put a cool, smooth hand over her forehead. "You've got a fever!"

It's nothing, the words came to her as easily as breathing. I'm fine. What has Sanji made us today?. She could stand and smile and pretend to eat a full plate, like everyone else.

She swallowed, took a breath. This was harder than she'd expected. "I don't... feel very well," she admitted. And Nami huffed as though that was obvious.

"Thought it was odd you forgot to water the flowers today," Nami said lightly, and gently pushed Robin back against the pillow. "I'll get Chopper." And she was gone.

Every moment lying there made her feel ever so slightly more nervous, the urge to rise and brush this off growing, despite having already admitted to it. Before she had quite resolved to stand, though, Chopper tapped on the door, and then opened it. "Robin!" he called. "I'm coming in."

He didn't let her try to get up, changing to his large form so that he could reach without her having to move much, checking her temperature and breathing, and asking if she'd had any insect bites recently. His hands were steady and cool, and he smiled at her when he put everything away. "A little flu, maybe. I've got something to help. Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

"I wouldn't want any other doctor," she told him, and he popped back into his usual shape as his cheeks flushed.

"S-stupid! I don't want any dumb praise!" He bounced on his hooves and grinned.

Sanji came in later, with a tray of soup and the information (delivered with gallantly but incompletely suppressed resentment) that Zoro had claimed her watch shift.

And then, despite nearly vibrating with pleasure at being inside the women's cabin, Sanji served her with nearly faultless manners, only getting up to kick Luffy out when their captain opened the door without knocking and leaned in, Usopp peeking from behind him.

"Hey Robin, get well now!" Luffy called, before Sanji's foot shoved him back out. "OOF!"

"No, listen," Usopp's voice carried in after the thud on the deck outside, "it's get well soon!"

"Nope, 'cause I want her to feel better now."

Robin drifted in and out of naps for the rest of the evening. At her request, Sanji had reluctantly propped the door open, and whenever she woke, there was Brook or Franky making music, or Zoro and Sanji arguing, or just the sound of the sea.

As happened from time to time, Sunny hit a trough in the waves and dropped a few feet, rattling everything that wasn't nailed down. In the library, Robin lurched over the book she was restoring.

A sharp score of heat became stinging discomfort and she looked down to see a two-inch line of red down the bottom of her palm, where her paper-cutting knife had rather widely missed the edge of the torn page.

Pressing her lips together with mild annoyance, she grew a few copies of her unhurt hand to stow everything out of the way for the moment, and pressed against the cut, keeping it closed as best she could.

There were first aid supplies in the women's quarters, just as in the men's and the galley. She could take care of this herself, it wasn't particularly deep.

Chopper was at his desk, and looked up when she came in.

"Hi Robin! Oh, what happened?" He stood up, eyes going to her hand in immediate concern.

"A slight mishap," she said. "I just need some help."