Disclaimer: I don't own these wonderful characters.

AN: A better attempt at a Graverobber-Blind Mag story. Warning, chapter updates may be at uneven intervals and varying lengths.

Graverobber was thought of as filth, a criminal. Blind Mag was considered an object. GeneCo was the enemy. Designer hearts do beat with common blood, feelings, love. The chance that the two would find any form of solace within the other is so miniscule that it is laughable. But there is a chance.

_ _

Another Zydrate vial filled. That was how Graverobber spent his life. He sucked the substance of Zydrate from the dead. He may sell the stuff, but he could never find reason to take it himself. He knew it was good, better than any drug. His junkie customers found something about it to love. He had never wanted or needed surgery, so in turn didn't need the Zydrate.

Graverobber stashed the vial in the pocket of his jacket. He had enough to last about another week. He would never let the Zydrate be completely used up before gathering more. It wasn't a very strategic business move. Slowly, the man stood and kicked the corpse back into the tomb he'd pulled it from. He headed back to the alleyway, to his home.

Living on the streets wasn't that bad. It was preferable to Graverobber, His identity would be safe and on the down-low to any GeneCo workers. Identity. Identity implied humanity, which Graverobber had spent years trying to prove he didn't have. The alleyway was empty, which suited Graverobber fine. He could actually get some good earned sleep instead of playing dominant to some over willing submissive sex kitten. Graverobber hopped in the dumpster he used for a bed and began his rest.

_ _

Blind Mag acknowledged her audience and took a bow. She had grown beyond tired of her routine. She was simply numb. She would happily pass the spotlight to Amber, who was so eager for fame. If the contract she'd signed to Rotti Largo (GeneCo's founder and father of Amber Sweet) had made it that easy to resign, she would have done so already. She had to continue her work though, that or die. Straightening up, Blind Mag wore a meaningless smile.

She wondered why she had so badly longed for sight. There wasn't much to see. Now that Marni and her daughter were gone, there was almost no sense in seeing. She was much happier in ignorance. Walking off the brightly lit stage, Mag pushed the thoughts from her mind. What was done had been done and there was no undoing it.

Hoping she wouldn't encounter anyone from the Largo family, Mag headed home. She went to her dressing room first to change. She surely owned something that wasn't flashy. After dressing down, Mag continued through the backstage area and out the exit. She chose to walk. She didn't need the driver and bodyguard Rotti always had at hand for her. Funny how the world coveted a life they knew nothing about and wouldn't want.

The night was cool as Mag crunched the fallen leaves beneath her feet. Shivering slightly, Mag pulled her jacket tighter around her. She yawned. Sleep would be great. Always a fine refreshment, but also a great escape. The only way she had to get away from the craziness of GeneCo. A trip to the good times of the twentieth century, when humanity was far from evil. Few compassionate people were left. Yes, there was a far-off place that was left unstained by GeneCo. Mag longed to go there, but it was a foolish fantasy.

How late was it? Hardly anyone was out. At least it was peacefully quiet. There was some good left in the world. Mag smirked as she rounded a corner that lead into an alley. The quiet made her happy. Mag's happiness never lasted for long.

Mag had been shoved against the brick wall suddenly. How had she not heard someone coming? It was so quiet, she should have. Had she only been imagining the silence? Hands were closing around her throat. She could scarcely breathe. "Who are you?" her voice came out a choked whisper.

"Doesn't matter, you whore." Unkind lips met hers. Hands slid to her shoulders. She was nearly lifted, then slammed down to the ground. A startled cry escaped as tears quickly came to her eyes. She was going to be used, again. The unknown man was going to rape her. A hand covered her mouth. "Shut up!" The snarl had a vengeance that frightened her. Her legs were forced open. Mag bit her lip in silence, tears trickling down her cheeks. All she had wanted to do was go home.

A smack to the face and another kiss to drown the cries. Slow, wet licks on the neck. Goosebumps raised on Mag's skin and her spine tingled with the fear of knowing what would happen, but not how it was going to. The man tore at her clothes, ravished her flesh with teeth and tongue. Mag bruised pretty badly. The man was enjoying this, taking his sweet time. He was building up to what would be a sexual climax. For him. He was teasing, terrorizing Mag.

He drew blood biting Mag's neck. When he latched his mouth on and bit a breast, a mighty loud and terrifying scream emitted from Mag's mouth.

Graverobber had been stirred from his sleep by a feminine scream. He sat up in his dumpster bed as he registered the noise. Through the dark he could see two figures on the ground. Rolling his eyes, he laid back down. Just some people having a good time at an ungodly hour. Scarcely had he closed his eyes, he heard another earsplitting screech.

"Please, please – stop!"

It had been so painful; it touched a place deep within Graverobber, close enough to his bulletproof heart that he cared. Just a little bit. Only enough to put the woman back into a good state of mind. Most of it was for himself. He was losing precious sleep, and helping the woman would let him get back to it.

Graverobber hurled himself out of the dumpster. He was a little surprised that they took no notice his presence. Of course, they were preoccupied, so they couldn't be expected to be aware of their surroundings. He approached them. Grabbing the man's collar, he hoisted him off the woman. He sent him crashing against the wall, sliding to his feet.

"Didn't your daddy ever teach you not to disrespect a lady?" He punched him with a great enough force to knock him out. He turned to the woman whose whimpers were simmering down. He offered his hand to help her up. "Welcome to the twenty-first century," he murmured sarcastically.

This earned a laugh from the shaken Mag. "Thank you." She turned to continue on her way home. She started walking away.

That voice had sounded familiar. Graverobber was curious now. He followed after her a couple steps. He reached out and grabbed her shoulder. "Wait." Mag slowly turned to face him. He gasped. "Blind Mag?" Her eyes were captivating. Much prettier than the magazines showed.

"Yes?"

Graverobber had quenched his curiosity, great. He could go back to sleep. Before he had the chance to turn around, more words spewed from his mouth. "I just wanted to know who it was I saved. Don't you know these parts are not safe, Mag?"

"Nothing is safe." Mag turned to leave again. Another tear escaped. She turned her head back. "Can I know the name of my savior?"

"I go by Graverobber." His voice was cold. He didn't care about her. He saw her tear and it changed nothing. Not only did he not care, but he couldn't. A Graverobber couldn't be soft-hearted; it just didn't work that way. His heart of stone was shining through.

Mag continued off wondering why he'd even bothered saving her. If he was so burdened by her presence, why hadn't he let her be raped? All she had asked for was his name. Why was that such a hard thing to give? She felt cursed for having the compassionate heart that she did.

Once home, Mag found her room and collapsed on the bed. She cried herself asleep knowing there was not one person, not even her savior, that she could talk to.

As Graverobber slept he had unusual dreams. Dreams about himself and Blind Mag. The dreams were sexual. Just the hot bodies of himself and Blind Mag, sweating, moving together. No strings attached, simple lust. The only weird thing about Graverobber's dreams were that they featured Blind Mag. Other than that, very normal.