Title: Chasing Morning - Chapter One (Now, with proper punctuation!)
Author: Robin Graves
Rating: T-MA
Pairing: Graverobber/Shilo
Summary: I'm too tired to write a decent summary. It deals with Shilo's withdrawal after years of forced chemical dependency and Grave's role in her recovery.
Author's Note: This is draft three of this chapter and I'm pretty sure I've botched it entirely. This isn't the story I intended to write it just...happened. Please be gentle. It's my first time. **It has come to my attention that-for reasons unbenknownst to me-my chapters did not contain important punctuation, such as...oh, I don't know...QUOTATION MARKS! Bloody hell! What is with this story and not being able to get it into the proper format? It's like something doesn't want it to be read. So, if you've already read this chapter, please read it again, as it might make more sense this go round :-)
Disclaimer: All Repo! characters and the Repo! world belong to TZ and DB and not me. No profit will be made from this. Please don't sue. I'm already a starving artist.
Shilo left the Genetic Opera that horrible, bloody night with no destination in mind. She wandered the backstreets and alleys of Sanitarium Island in a daze. She was blind and deaf to the nightmares of the seedy underbelly of the city until she bumped into a solid wall of…man. She looked up into the surprised blue eyes of none other than Graverobber. "Graverobber?"
Graverobber was finishing up his final transaction for the evening, when something small bounced off of him and onto the pavement below. He looked down, shocked at what he saw. "Kid? Is that you?" She was barely recognizable, crusted in blood from head to toe. She lifted her face to him, her dazed, black eyes blinking up at him in confusion.
He grabbed her elbow, pulling her to her feet. "How did you get here? Don't you know the Largos are probably looking all over Sanitarium Island for you?"
"Can I stay with you?" She looked up at him, her eyes pleading with him, frantic and over-bright with shock.
He scoffed, "And get caught with you? I'm already a wanted felon, darling. That would definitely be a death-sentence."
Her face crumpled and her shoulders began to shake with silent sobs. Her hands were twisted into the furry lapels of his coat, her head resting against his chest.
"Shit," he muttered. Addicts, he could deal with. Scalpel sluts, he could handle. A sobbing, recently orphaned little girl, he was at a total loss. He brought his arms up, wrapping them around her and patting her back awkwardly.
They stood there for several minutes, Shilo sobbing into his chest and Graverobber rubbing awkward circles on her back. He was beyond relieved when her sobs and hiccups began to subside.
"Do you have any other family to go to?" he asked as gently as he could under the circumstances. "I could take you."
She raised her head, meeting him full on with the force of those dark, wounded eyes. "There was only my f-father. And M-mag." Her breath caught in her throat and she moaned a pitiful little sound. "Now there is no one." She lowered her gaze and stared at her hands, covered in the blood of both her father and her godmother. It suddenly hit her how alone she was.
Graverobber was horrified. Great. What do I do with her? He couldn't just leave her there, covered in blood for any number of things to happen to her. Why not? You don't owe her anything. Not true. She had saved him from Amber, hadn't she? She had done him a solid. The least he could do was make sure she got home safely.
She stared at her hands, trembling and covered in blood and Graverobber knew this was undertaking he was completely unprepared for.
"Hey, kid, can you stand up?"
She turned those haunted eyes back up to him as though she didn't understand his question. In that moment, he panicked. What the fuck was he going to do with this slip of a woman-child? Of course he knew what had happened at the opera. But why hadn't the Largos just finished her off? What if she was broken beyond repair? What would he do with her then? He couldn't very well stick around and be her babysitter.
But there was something empowering about having those large, dark eyes turned up to him in supplication. He'd never been into little girls, but this particular girl had him feeling things that were better left buried. His world was dark and ugly, and this girl provided a refreshing ray of light to that stale, musty darkness. In that moment, in the dark of the alley, he knew that he would do anything in his power to make her safe.
He focused his blue gaze back on her and she was still just staring at him, her eyes glazed over in what he recognized as shock. He sighed, bending to gather her into his arms. The girl weighed nothing. She was all sharp angles and pale skin. He cradled her tiny form against his chest with one arm, slinging his bag of supplies over his shoulder with the other.
"I guess I'm crashing with you tonight," he muttered, cursing himself for being a total puss. He was going soft. Maybe he was getting too old for this shit. The Graverobber didn't give a shit about anyone else, least of all some sheltered, recently orphaned charity case. "All for a fuckin' pair of doe eyes," he muttered.
Shilo was vaguely aware of the zydrate dealer lifting her into his arms. Suddenly, her eyes felt too heavy, her brain too foggy. She let her head droop onto his shoulder, his large, furry collar providing a surprisingly comfortable pillow.
In the back of her mind, she knew she shouldn't trust him. He was a drug dealer whose best customer was Amber Sweet. He had almost got her executed by the GenCops. But hadn't he rescued her once as well? As she lay her head against his shoulder, she decided she would trust him. There was no one else and she had to trust someone. She closed her eyes, allowing all of the horror to drain away, if only for a moment.
He heard her sigh and she snuggled her head into the crook of his shoulder. Her hands were balled into fists and tucker under her chin, and to his surprise she had gone completely lax in him arms.
"Don't go pass out on me, kid. I don't know where you live."
Her large, doe-like eyes blink up at him, sleepily. "There's a tunnel leading to the house from my mother's tomb in the cemetery where I first met you. There's a key in my boot…" she trailed off, with a sleepy sigh. He ignored the shiver caused by her warm breath on his ear.
"I'm not even going to ask why there is a tunnel to your house in a tomb." Obviously, her father was a little more off his rocker than anyone had ever guessed.
Her only response was a sleepy mumble and to snuggle her face further into the crook of his neck and shoulder.
Graverobber shook his head, and turned in the direction of the cemetery where he'd first encountered the pale, fragile creature in his arms.
"You've got to be kidding me, kid," he whispered as he stared at the huge, winding staircase in the foyer of her home. He could understand why she wouldn't want to spend her first night without a family alone in this monster of a house.
He glanced down at the girl in question. She had exhausted herself with crying and was sleeping peacefully in his arms. It was so sweet it was giving him cavities.
"Hey, kid. Where am I taking you?"
She whined, burrowing further into his shoulder. It might have been cute if it weren't for two things: 1. He was Graverobber and 2. He was tired and irritated as hell that he had put himself in this position to begin with. He ground his teeth together. "Kid, I need you to wake your ass up and tell me where your room is. And you're going to want a shower before you even think about getting into bed. You definitely don't want to wake up in a bed covered in…well, you know."
She opened bleary eyes, rolling them up to meet his. "Third floor, end of the hall on the left hand side." She yawned and it was possibly the sweetest sound he'd ever heard, just barely a squeak. It was like the tiniest who down in Whoville or some shit. If he could have punched himself in the nuts, he might have. It would serve him right for thinking stupid shit like that.
He clomped up the stairs, muttering something about mansions with no elevators.
Shilo smiled sleepily at his grumpy grumblings. She was glad her subconscious had led her to him. She couldn't have trusted anyone else to take care of her.
"What the hell are you so friggin' happy about?" he griped.
"I found you," she said simply, that peaceful smile never slipping.
"Yeah, well, next time could you find someone else? My ass is grass if the Largos find out I'm helping you."
He cradled her with one arm so he could open the door labeled, "Shilo's Room," and asked her to point out the bathroom. The door was already ajar and he just shouldered it out of the way. The girl was deposited on the long counter top while he prepared bath water for her in the ancient claw-footed tub. He then rummaged around the cabinets for towels, wondering-not for the first time that night-why he was going through all this trouble for a girl that couldn't properly thank him for it. And by thank, he meant fuck.
Shilo accepted the towel he thrust at her with a soft thank you.
"Yeah, whatever. Just hurry so you I can get some shut-eye." He turned to give her some privacy.
She slid off the countertop and stood with her hands clasped in front of her, twisting her fingers together in the universal gesture of nervousness. "Graverobber?"
"Yeah?" he let his irritation filter into his response.
"Thank you. For everything. You didn't have to do this, and…Well, it means a lot to me." Her eyes were shining with unshed tears, and Graverobber felt a little like an ass, but not enough to let her off the hook.
"I sure as hell didn't, and you'll do well to remember it."
She smiled, sniffling. "I don't think I could ever forget."
"Whatever. Just take your bath before the water gets cold. Is there another shower around here?"
She turned away from him, unzipping her black dress. "Dad's room is at the furthest end of the hall. You can use the shower in there." She looked over her shoulder at him, and the innocence of the gesture combined with the sliver of pale skin revealed by the dress caused a tightening in the Z dealer's pants and he fled with a muttered, "Thanks."
Graverobber braced himself against the shower wall as he let the scalding water pound against his shoulders and back. What was he doing? He shouldn't have gotten himself involved with the kid. She could bring him nothing but trouble. If Amber Sweet found out that he was nursing her greatest threat back to health, she would snuff him out without batting an eye. Well, she could try, but he wouldn't go down without a fight. Still, was it worth the danger? Was one, small girl worth risking his life for?
Unfortunately, he knew the answer. The girl was an innocent. She was pure, untainted by this harsh world. He had the opportunity to preserve that innocence, and he would to the best of his ability.
She'd done nothing to deserve the hand fate had dealt her. She wasn't a Z junkie or a scalpel slut. She was a perfect, delicate child who had been brutally yanked from the only world she had ever known and thrust into one of death and gore.
Her father had poisoned her every day of her life, kept her sequestered away from the outside world. The thought filled him with rage. What kind of father does that to his own child? He was killing her slowly to keep her with him. She was in no way prepared for a life in the outside world.
He sighed, resigned to his self-imposed punishment. He would care for her at least until she knew how to do the basics. When he was sure she could take care of herself, he was out.
He stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his hair and one around his waist. He then rummaged through Nathan Wallace's closet for something to wear until he could clean the repo man's blood from his own clothing. He chose the least offensive of the dead man's shirts and pants. They weren't to his taste at all, but beggars couldn't be choosers.
As he padded down the hall to the kid's bedroom, he heard her humming. It sounded like one of Mag's songs, but he couldn't be certain. The kid had a decent voice. If she played her cards right, perhaps she could be the next Voice of GeneCo.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside, his eyes finding her figure sitting at the open window. She sat, bare headed, brushing her newly washed wig. She was bald. Graverobber's fists clenched at his sides and he made a mental note to find Nathan Wallace's corpse and piss on it.
"Hey, kid. You should get into bed. You're still shocky, and if you sit in the cold too long you'll get sick."
Shilo nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice. He laughed softly
"You sound like my dad," she muttered, carrying her wighead to her vanity table. She arranged it lovingly, caressing the glossy black strands.
Graverobber watched her with a sort of fascination. In her babydoll nightgown, bare headed, she looked even more fragile. He felt that if he breathed too hard around her, she might break.
As if sensing his thoughts, she turned her dark gaze to him. "You can sleep in the bed if you like. I can sleep on the window seat."
"Did your dad drop you on your head when you were a baby? Didn't I just tell you what would happen if you stay near the open window? Especially without your wig."
She averted her eyes, one hand coming up to caress her bald head. Again, Graverobber felt like an asshole. He stood there awkwardly, not knowing exactly what to say to make her feel better after his callous comment.
She broke the silence with her sweet little voice. "Would you stay with me?"
He raised a perfect, dark eyebrow, "I'm here, aren't I?"
"I meant that you could stay…in the bed…with me, if you want."
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his paintless face. "I really don't think that's a good idea."
Shilo nodded. He was probably right. But she really didn't want to be alone. She took a couple of steps toward the bed and her vision went a little fuzzy around the edges. He wrist comm alerted her that her blood pressure was reaching a critical level. And she clutched at her throat.
"Kid?" His voice sounded so far away, but he was looking down at her from a much closer proximity than she would have expected.
"Grave…" her own voice sounded far away. And then, her world went black.
"Kid?" It had all happened so fast. She had been walking toward the bed when her wrist comm thing had started squawking something about blood pressure. For the second time that night, she collapsed at his feet, but this time, she was clutching at her throat, her eyes gone glassy.
"Grave…" her breathy voice trailed off as her eyes rolled up in her head and she began to seize.
"Fuck!" How long had it been since her last dose of 'medicine?' He was so not prepared to deal with the detox she was going through.
He slapped her face gently, "Kid?" He could hear the panicked edge to his voice and gritted his teeth against it. "Kid? I need you to snap out of it." The only response was the jerky movements of her seizure. "Fuck fuck fuck!"
He scooped her into his arms and half ran with her to the bathroom. He'd dealt with enough junkies that he knew what to do when one was going through withdrawal. He strode to the tub, cranking the cold knob to full blast. He allowed the tub to fill halfway before lowered the kid into the icy water.
Her eyes snapped open and she gasped at the shock of the frigid temperature. Her breathing accelerated, coming in short, panting gasps. Her eyes were frantic, searching out Graverobber's concerned blue gaze.
Relief flooded him when her eyes opened and anchored onto his. He cupped her face in his large hands, "Welcome back," he smirked. She began to shake with cold, rather than a seizure. "Let's get you out of there."
She nodded, lifting her arms to him, like a child begging to be picked up. He bent, allowing her to wrap her arms around his neck. He lifted her out of tub and grabbed one of the pristine white towels from the countertop.
"Can you stand?"
She nodded, and he lowered her feet to the floor, wrapping the towel around her. He rubbed her body down vigorously to get her blood circulating again.
He glanced up at her, standing there trembling. Yup. He was totally fucked. H e was definitely a goner. "You scared the shit out of me, kid."
"I'm s-sorry," she forced through her chattering teeth.
He laughed and her brow furrowed. "W-what?"
He stood, hauling her to his chest. "Kid, you're a trip."
"W-why are you l-laughing at m-me?"
He stroked her hair gently, "You're apologizing for something that is completely out of your control."
"I'm glad I seem to amuse you," she muttered tersely, leaning into the warmth of him.
He rolled his eyes. "C'mon, kid. Let's get you out of that wet nightgown and into bed." He ushered her out of the bathroom and left her standing in the middle of her bedroom while he rummaged through her dresser to find something appropriate for her to wear. He wrinkled his nose at the selection. "Do you have anything that doesn't look like it belongs on one of those dolls you've got laying around?"
She shook her head, biting her lip and clutching the towel around her shoulders.
He muttered a curse under his breath. Of course it too much to ask for her to actually have a nightgown that covered her ass. What the fuck was wrong with her father? Who dressed a seventeen year-old girl like a baby doll?
He picked the least offensive scrap of material he could find and thrust it at her. She dropped the towel from her shoulders and he noticed what he hadn't noticed while he was worried about getting her warmed up. Her white, linen nightgown was completely soaked and quite transparent, revealing her pale pink nipples. That she was completely oblivious of the fact made it that much more erotic.
He cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from her. "You should change. I'll just be over here."
She nodded, and he turned away from her to face the window.
Shilo took the nightgown he offered her and peeled the wet one off, letting it drop to the floor. It took her several tries to get the fresh nightgown on, because her hands were shaking so severely.
Once she had the nightgown on and arranged properly, she padded quietly to Graverobber. She studied him for a moment, taking the opportunity to notice his change of clothes. She knew it should bother her that he had been rifling through her father's belongings, but it didn't bother her at all. She felt he had earned it with all he'd done for her already.
Graverobber gazed out the window at the city below. How could anyone live like this? She had been little more than a bird in a gilded cage, only able to watch the world outside from this window. He hated that he was developing an understanding of the girl—an affection, perhaps.
A light touch at his wrist alerted him that she was finished. He looked down into her fathomless eyes.
"What is happening to me?" she asked, holding up her shaking hands to him.
"You're going through withdrawal from the meds your dad had you on. It's why you had a seizure."
"How long will it last?"
Graverobber shrugged. "You've been on the drugs all your life. It could take days or weeks."
"How do you know all this?"
He looked at her incredulously, "Are you serious, kid? You do remember what I do for a living, right?"
If it was possible, her face went even paler, "So…I'm like one of your customers?"
He grinned crookedly, "You're definitely not like any of my customers, kid."
"But—"
"You didn't choose this for yourself. Your father chose for you. That is the difference between you and my clientele."
The trembling worsened and Shilo tucked her hands into her chest to keep them still, lowering her eyes to the carpet.
He draped an arm over her shoulder. "Come on, kid. To bed with you." He led her to the canopy bed and reach up to rip down the plastic curtain that surrounded it. "Don't think you'll be needing that anymore."
She gasped as he tore the plastic curtain from her canopy. She turned her face up to him, with the most beatific smile, eyes shining with wonder. "Will I be able to go outside?"
Graverobber just stared down at her, momentarily dazzled by her smile. He cleared his throat and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I don't know. That depends on whether or not your illness stems completely from the drugs."
"If it is?" She was gazing up at him with the most trusting expression.
He sighed. "I don't know kid. If it's just the drugs, you should be able to do anything you want once they're out of your system. Now will you get into bed?"
She nodded, turning to pull the bedding down. When she bent to reach the far side, her scandalously short nightgown rode up, giving him quite the eyeful.
He hadn't put any thought into the panties he had chosen from the drawer. He'd been more concerned about the length of the nightgown. Now, however, he was seeing them up close and personal. The way they encased her pert little ass was enough to make a grown man cry and Graverobber's pants tighten.
His eyes trailed down the slim, pale legs and he vaguely wondered if they were as smooth as her head. He turned his head. That line of thinking would only get him in trouble.
"Are you sure you don't want the bed?"
She was still leaning over the bed her head turned over her shoulder with the most innocent expression of concern.
Yes! His cock screamed. He really wanted nothing more than to press her into that mattress and take her from behind. He clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides, reminding himself that she was sheltered and completely innocent. He was nearly one-hundred percent certain she'd never had a sexual experience.
When he felt he had regained control, he took a deep breath. "I'm good. The floor is good enough for me. I've certainly had worse."
"Suit yourself," she murmured, crawling up into the bed and burrowed down into the covers.
A shrill scream pierced the darkness and Graverobber was jerked out of a very pleasant wet dream. Being used to skulking around in the shadows, he was able to find his way to the bedside table and get the lamp turned on. The kid was no longer in the bed. It took him a moment to find her wedged into the corner between her wardrobe and piano.
"Kid," he breathed, crouching in front of her.
Her eyes were wide and glazed as she rocked back and forth, making a disturbing keening noise. He reached out to stroke her shoulder and she shrieked like nothing he had ever heard. He gripped her face in both of his hands, trying to force her gaze to his. Her skin was burning hot to the touch—another symptom of withdrawal.
"Kid," he murmured in her ear, not wanting to frighten her more than she already was. "Shilo…"
Pain. A searing, blinding pain was the only thing that registered to her. Every nerve ending in her body was on fire. She'd never felt anything like this before.
Something grabbed her face and it felt like a thousand needles being driven into her flesh and she screamed from the sensation. She heard her name through the red haze of pain and the ringing in her ears. The voice had a familiar, deep timbre, and her sluggish brain tried to process the information. All she could grasp was blue eyes, colorful hair and a glowing blue vial.
She whimpered as he scooped her up, carrying her to the bathroom for the third time that night. He stripped her of her nightgown and she keened lowly.
"I know, kid. I know it hurts," he crooned to her as he lowered her once more into the still half-full tub.
The moment she hit the water, she began to flail and shriek.
"It's okay," he murmured. "It's okay, Shilo." She gasped for breath and tried her damnedest to escape, but he held her down. "Just a bit longer, kid." She clawed at his bare chest, trying desperately to gain some sort of purchase. "We've got to break this fever, kid." She sobbed and struggled and shrieked until she wore herself and sagged against him.
He kept her in the tub until she began to shiver from the cold. Then, he dragged her out, laying her on the rug so he could towel her off. He was tugging her nightgown over her head when her eyes fluttered open and found his.
"Graverobber…" her voice was hoarse from the crying and screaming.
"Yeah, kid?"
"Thank you," she whispered, silent tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.
"Don't mention it, kid." He lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bedroom. He deposited her in the middle of the large, four-poster and pulled the blankets up to her chin. Then, he climbed in next to her, curling his body around hers. She turned her head, her eyes full of questions. "We need to get you warm and keep your temperature regulated, and I don't fancy waking up to another of your midnight serenades."
She yawned another of her Cindy Loo Who yawns and snuggled back against his chest. "Goodnight, Graverobber."
He reached over her to turn off the lamp and wrapped his arms around her. "Goodnight, kid." Once her breathing evened out, he allowed himself to relax and drift off to sleep. The next few days were going to be rough, and he was going to need all the help he could get.