I do not claim to own Repo! or any of the characters associated. I do not make any profit from this writing.

The rating is for a reason.

Nightlight

Chapter One: Out from the Night

His head hurt terribly. He groaned and rolled over on his side, a bit of exposed flesh hitting the cold asphalt as his thin shirt rode up. The cold sent a shiver through him and he sat up, cradling his throbbing head.

Graverobber thought back to how he got here. The last thing he remembered was the kid. She asked him for a hit, he gave her the needle, and then nothing. Did she hit me? he asked himself. He shrugged it off. What did it matter? He was now in an alley behind the GenoCo building. The real dilemma he had to face now was how to get out of here.

Graverobber looked around him. He needed his coat. It was far too cold out here and between that and the blood rushing out of his head, he wasn't feeling too swell. He found his tote and tool kit thrown in the mud. He sighed and shook his coat to get some of the sludge off and threw it over one arm. He did the same with the tool kit and shoved it in and unharmed pocket of his coat. He drew his brows together and lifted his fist to give a lovely gesture to the glowing GeneCo logo.

He took a few steps and steadied himself on a nearby dumpster, still recovering from hanging for so long. He stumbled slowly down the alley, bracing himself on the brick walls for support while he found his legs.

What happened at the Opera? he found himself thinking as he picked up a discarded newspaper. Shilo's face stared up at him from the front page. How long was I out? he thought.

Graverobber flipped through the pages, taking in what he had missed of the Opera. After reading all he needed of the abomination, he threw it angrily against the pavement. Damn Kid was actually looking for a cure, he thought as he walked toward the street. He jumped on the back of a GeneCo clean up truck. "GeneCo! Cleaning up the city since '030," it chimed morbidly.

Poor Kid, he mulled as he relaxed against the back of the truck. He shrugged the thought and checked his tools. One needle was missing. I can live with that, he thought. He glared as the truck passed the Wallace residence. The lights were all off. He checked his pocket watch and hopped off the truck, curiosity taking control.

Graverobber stood in front of the gates for a few moments before hopping it in one swift movement. Why should I care? he asked himself. He stared into the darkened windows. She's only a kid, he debated with himself.

But what can she do for you? A voice in his head spat back at him. Angry with himself, he tore his eyes from the windows and walked back up the path toward the gates. He froze when he heard a soft cough.

"Who's there?" he whispered loudly. He heard another series of coughs followed by a painful moan. "Kid, is that you?" he asked, noting the feminine tones.

"I can't get in," she whispered painfully, pulling herself from beneath the stairs. She was struggling. Graverobber held his free hand out to her. She pulled herself up using his arm. "The doors are locked," she explained, "The crypt, too. I never had a key."

Graverobber took in her appearance. She was in that tiny black dress, blood dried down her back and in her hair. Her fishnet gloves were torn and her body was spotted with dirt. Shilo's legs gave way and she collapsed onto the ground.

"Kid-" he started. She looked up at him with the saddest eyes he had ever seen. He felt a pang in his chest.

"I'm so cold," she whispered as she shifted her eyes to the door. "Can you open it?" Shilo asked, looking at him again with hopeful eyes.

"I break into tombs, Kid, not homes," he said, a little harsher than he intended. He felt a little guilty as she tore her eyes from him. "But I can try," he said finally. He shifted his coat and pulled out his tool kit. He shook his coat again. "It's a little damp," he said bluntly as he tossed it to the tiny figure on the ground.

Shilo draped the coat over herself and relished into the residual warmth he had left with his body heat. She felt so very cold. Nothing in the world had ever made her feel this uncomfortable. Maybe because I've never seen the world, she thought to herself.

Shilo pulled the coat tightly around her as Graverobber walked up the steps. He glanced nervously over his shoulder. A few moments later, he flung the door open. He gave Shilo and accomplished grin and gestured her inside with a bow.

Shilo struggled off the ground and slowly climbed the stairs. Graverobber pulled his coat from her shoulders as she passed through the doorway. Shilo gave him a frown. "Have a good night, Kid," Graverobber said as he turned to the steps.

"Stay," he heard her whisper as he felt a tug on his dirty shirt sleeve, "Please."

Graverobber whipped around with a wicked grin. "And what do I get out of it?"

Shilo looked at him in horror. Graverobber bit his tongue as soon as the words left his mouth. Shilo's face softened.

"What would make you stay?" she asked hesitantly.

Graverobber thought for a moment before speaking. "A hot shower, to start," he began, "A hot meal, and a warm bed." He paused for a moment, gauging her reaction. And what I wouldn't give for you to be in that bed, too, a voice sounded in his head.

Shilo stepped back, locking eyes with him, and let him through the doorway. Graverobber looked around the dark foyer, illuminated only by the portrait above the fireplace.

"My mother," Shilo said softly, closing the door as she noted his interest. Graverobber remained silent. "Can you figure out how to turn it off?" she asked weakly. Graverobber looked at her and back at the portrait. He switched the tiny toggle on the side of the portrait and the room darkened. He noted the eerie glow coming from the upstairs hallway.

"Do you-" he started.

"Turn them off please," Shilo interrupted, leaning against the door. Graverobber hopped up the stairs and in a few moments the hall was engulfed in darkness. He turned on a light using another toggle on his way down.

Shilo was slowly making her way to the staircase. She braced herself against the banister as she made her way up the stairs, Graverobber following slowly beside her.

Shilo stared with grief to the end of the hall, and instead made her way to the guest room. She couldn't bear to be surrounded by the lies. Shilo turned the knob of the spare bedroom, which had never seen any guests for as long as she could remember.

Graverobber followed behind her, pausing a moment before entering the room. Shilo turned to face him.

"Will you. . . " Shilo paused. He stared at her, raising an eyebrow. "Across the hall. I can't go in there."

"What do you need?"

"My nightgown. Some clean things," Shilo said, flushed at the thought of someone going through her underthings. "In the bottom drawer of my dresser there are. . . Just pick one."

Graverobber left quickly, curiosity killing him. He wrenched open the bottom drawer of the dresser as soon as he entered the room. "Wigs," he sighed. He grabbed one and went to the wardrobe to pull out a white nightgown. At least, that is what he thought it was. It's awfully short, he thought. He grabbed a clean pair of panties from the top drawer and grinned wickedly. He also pulled a pair of black stockings from the same drawer, noting that she usually wore something similar the times he had seen her.

Before he turned to leave, he took a moment to look around the room. Sick bastard, he thought, noticing the plastic curtains and medical machines. The stuffed animals stared morbidly back at him and he remembered just how much of a child Shilo really was. The only things in the room that reminded him even remotely of her were the cases of bugs. Graverobber grinned as he thought back to just a few nights ago when she first stumbled into his graveyard in pursuit of a glowing insect.

He took another brief moment to turn the switch on the glowing portrait before leaving. He felt bad for her, being surrounded by the image of the mother she never had a chance to know. He sighed. Why do I care so much, anyway?

She's only a kid, he reminded himself. One who was poisoned by the same hand that nurtured. That same hand had killed her mother. The same hand had killed countless others for nothing more than an overdue payment. I may be a cold hearted self-centered asshole, but I feel for her.

Graverobber closed the door softly behind him and went to open the door across the hall. He paused as he was turning the handle and remembered to show a little decency. He knocked lightly on the door.

"Kid," he called, "Ya decent?"

"Yeah," he heard her call back quietly. The sound almost reminded him of a crying kitten.

Graverobber opened the door and left it slightly ajar behind him as he entered the room. Shilo had removed the torn fishnet gloves, a grid remaining on her arms from the filth. Her stockings were gone, and there was a line across her thighs where they had stopped.

Shilo turned to face him and it registered for the first time that she wasn't wearing her wig. She looks almost natural without it, he thought. He handed her the things he had grabbed from her room, sans one.

Graverobber grinned wickedly as he unfolded her undergarment in front of his face. He looked at Shilo, studying her reaction. She merely looked at the floor, hand outstretched and a bright glow on her cheeks. He sighed and hesitantly handed them over.

"You're no fun," he teased.

"Well, excuse me for not being more enthusiastic," Shilo spat at him.

Graverobber held his tongue as Shilo disappeared into the bathroom. He sat on the floor, leaning against the end post of the bed. He felt guilty about teasing her, but he just wanted to see her crack a smile. At the very least, he wanted to take her mind off the things he was certain was racing through her head.

Again, why do I care so much? She's only a kid, it's true, but I've seen kids in worse situations. At least she had a father, as sick and twisted as he was. Maybe I'm just a moth attracted to her pure light, he mused.

Graverobber heard the water start in the other room. He couldn't help but imagine her porcelain, unaltered flesh as the water ran over her. He mentally cursed himself.

Graverobber pulled himself from the floor and began exploring the house, anything to take his mind off the images generated in his head.

It didn't take long for Graverobber to find the former repo-man's bed room. He stomach filled with a feeling he didn't quite know as he shuffled through Nathan Wallace's things. He liberated a v-neck t-shirt and loose linen pants from the repo-man's wardrobe. He stood in the middle of the room, taking it in. The feeling in his stomach consumed him as he looked around.

He drudged back into the guest bedroom and threw the clothing on the bed. He took his place back on the floor against the bedpost and listened for the water to stop running. A few minutes later, Shilo stepped out of the bathroom dressed in the short white nightgown. It took everything he had not to let out a long wolf whistle.

Her toes curled nervously in her black thigh-high socks. The band of flesh between her socks and end of the nightgown glistened lightly, still moist from the shower. Graverobber wanted nothing more than to caress those creamy thighs all night. Not like she would actually let me, he thought.

The wig Shilo was wearing was a short burgundy bob that framed her face just right. Focus on her face, he instructed himself, Nothing else. Don't look at those creamy thighs and think about how those legs would feel wrapped around you.

"It suits you," he managed to say, taking in her full appearance.

"I'd rather have real hair," she said quietly, almost in embarrassment, as she took a seat on the bed. She held up the linen pants curiously.

"Is it alright?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Somehow, her permission seemed important. It's not like he's ever asked anyone for permission for anything, but with her it seemed vital. The knot in his stomach tightened.

Shilo rolled the pants and shirt into a ball and tossed them down to Graverobber. "I don't see how it would matter. He's dead. It's not like he will be needing them anymore," she spat at him.

That knot was so tight he leaned over and clutched his stomach. He gave her a guilty look. "I'm sorry, Kid. I just. . . I don't know. I guess I'm not too sensitive about things," he began, "And I've never been one to let things go to waste." He shifted and moved closer to her, sliding across the floor to sit by her feet. One stocking-clad leg brushed against his hand lightly. "Are you sure you want me to stay?" he asked, taking in a deep breath.

Shilo looked at him in horror. Her eyes looked so pained, Graverobber had to tear his own away. He let out a sigh. "Please don't leave," she whispered. He looked up at her in interest. "I don't have anyone else."

The knot that was in his stomach loosened lightly. Graverobber paused for a few moments before standing, grabbing the bundle of clothing, and heading toward the bathroom. "Don't change your mind, Kid," he said as he closed the door behind him.

Graverobber took his time, scrubbing away the dirt and grime that comes with his job. After all, he didn't know when his next shower would be. At the rate this was going, she was going to throw him out by morning. He felt so filthy compared to her, even when seeing her covered in blood and muck.

He took care in scrubbing away the aftermath of Amber's 'payment'. Not once did he actually ever stoop that low, accepting sex as payment. He didn't really know why he did it in the first place; he wasn't really attracted to her. She was too plastic for him.

It was a moment of weakness, he thought. I was lonely and she was the first slut to throw herself at me.

Lonely? Since when had he ever been lonely?

Graverobber finished scrubbing the shampoo from his hair and scrubbed at his face. He dried off with one of the towels hanging on the wall, shaking out some dust before he did so. When was the last time there were actual visitors here? He found himself asking.

He slipped the linen pants on and tied them on his hips with the drawstring. He was just about to pull the shirt over his head when he heard a loud crash from the bedroom.

For the first time in a long time, Graverobber felt genuinely panicked. In all of his years robbing graves, it had all been a game. It was just a game of cat and mouse with the GeneCops, with him being a mouse that never got caught. He never felt panicked, just got a momentary cheap thrill. This was different, though. His heart practically jumped out of his chest.

Graverobber burst through the door and found Shilo on the floor. Her wrist-band was beeping loudly and repeating, "Blood Pressure Warning, Blood Pressure Warning. Medicate Immediately."

"Kid," he called out, running to her and pulling her into his lap. "Where is your medicine? How-"

"It's the poison," she said softly with a shiver. He could sense the fear in her voice. "I have to fight through it. . . Until it's out of my system." Her words were short and breathy. She was struggling to say such simple phrases.

"Will it take long? To clear out?" Graverobber asked, holding her in his lap.

"I don't know," she breathed after a few moments of silence. She looked up at him and began tracing the scar across his stomach with her fingertips. "Did you have surgery?"

"No," he stated. She looked at him curiously. "There are a lot of angry people in this world," he continued, "Addicts tend to be angrier than the rest."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Again, the sound reminded him of a crying kitten.

"It was a long time ago," he said with a weak smile.

"How long?"

"I was 13," he said, absently pushing some of the wig fibers out of her face with his fingertips.

"How long ago was that?"

"Does it matter?" Graverobber spoke, a tad more aggressive than intended. Shilo fell silent. He picked her up and placed her gently on the bed.

"How about I run down to the kitchen and get us something to eat?" Graverobber suggested.

"OK," Shilo said hesitantly. It seemed to him that the look in her eyes was begging him not to leave her alone.

"Anything in particular you would like, Kid?"

"There should be some cinnamon bread on the counter. Just some toast would be nice," she said with a soft smile.

"Butter?"

"Please."

"Alright. Don't die while I'm gone," Graverobber said with a wink as he left the room and ventured downstairs. He returned a few minutes later with two slices of cinnamon toast for each of them wrapped in a napkin and two glasses of milk.

Graverobber handed Shilo one napkin and glass and took a spot on the floor to demolish the cinnamon toast. They ate in an awkward silence.

"Thanks," she said finally as she finished.

"So, about that warm bed. . ." Graverobber reminded her.

"Pick one," she said, pulling herself up against the pillows.

"You don't want me to do that," he said in a growl.

"Why?" she asked, fear biting at her words.

Graverobber stood and sat on the bed beside her. "Because I'll choose the one with you in it," he whispered into her ear.

Shilo shivered. "I don't want to be alone," she reminded him in a whisper. Graverobber pulled the covers over them both. He switched off the bedside lamp.

"I don't want to be alone either," Graverobber growled, pulling the tiny girl close to him.

AN: Thoughts? Questions? Concerns? Please review!