***Thank you so much for taking the time to read this. This story does have some *ahem* lemons in it, so if your in the mood for some lemons then please skip to chapter 10 and 12 ;) Although there is a rather good build up if you read the entire story. Please review, this is my first story and would like to get better at this stuff. Thanks :D***

Chapter 1

When the Graverobber was nearly thirty he got his arm badly broken at the shoulder. Once it healed, and his fears of never being able to rob graves on a regular basis were assuaged, rarely was he ever self-conscious about his injury. From afar you would never be able to tell, but when I am up-close and his arms are wrapped around me, his right arm is somewhat shorter than his left. Not that he cared. As long as he could dig and collect his Zydrate and we could have our evening caresses, he and I were both content.

A few years had since passed and time had enabled us to reflect on the events that occurred after the opera, we sometimes discussed the events leading up to his injury. I always maintain that it was Luigi Largo that had started it all, whereas Graverobber said that it started long before both his injury and the opera. Graves said it started when my mother, Marni, died. My mother died when I was born and thus I was never able to meet her. My father took her death badly, and saw her death as his responsibility, which I myself do not see as a fault of his. Graverobber said it had started when she died because she had previously dated Geneco's owner, Rotti Largo.

I said that if you wanted to take a broader look on the subject, it really all began she left Rotti Largo. If she had not left the corporate owner, then perhaps Luigi Largo (one of the three children of Rotti Largo) would have grown with better principles and would not have been as murderous as he was. However, Graverobber and I have a new found 'maturity' that has come with age and are far too old to settle an argument the way in which we used to when we first 'teamed' up together, and so decided to consult our old friend Amber Sweet.

Amber Sweet (Rotti Largo's only daughter), although not the most academically gifted as most of her life was surrounded by paparazzi and her ever-changing looks, she had been in the centre of the brewing storm since the start. She concluded that we were both right. She said that her father had had a bitter edge to him ever since my mother had left Rotti and only increased when she died; Amber was about three years older than I was, and did not remember much about my mother. We both concluded that my mother left Rotti for my father. My parents did love each other very much, and it was evident in my father's rather long grieving process that impacted heavily on me. Graverobber said it did not matter much anymore as all is done and over with.

When I was seventeen the world was still a mystery to me as I had never ventured into it. My father would never allow it. I was confided to the walls of my bedroom but never stopped day-dreaming of the outside world. However, when I did finally venture to the forbidden outside, I realized that the world did not live up-to my expectations. Now at the age of nineteen, not much has changed as I have got more aquatinted with the world except that I now have strong relationships with people that have entered my life since the terrible events that occurred at the opera. I have also lost a few people on the way, my father included, but I prefer to concentrate on the positive now, unlike I did when I was younger. In fact, the only things that have changed are the increase of plastic surgery and in-turn the increase of people using Zydrate, which is always a good thing for both the Graverobber and I.

It is just the Graverobber and I that live in my childhood home on the main residential street in our town. When the Graverobber first moved in (reluctantly at first, most likely to not lose his 'man card') I found him to be a satisfactory roommate: he cooked for me, talked to me, taught me to grave rob and treated me with courteous detachment. Although as our relationship developed, our activities we did together definitely expanded. He was the first man I had met outside of my father, and despite our first encounter not being the most positive it did not stop us from becoming friends later on. He had always had a problem with authority (as demonstrated by his rather vocal moment in the graveyard when grave-picking when we first met), I think this was because of how the people in authority in his life when he was younger had never been there for him, and sometimes he would remember this and go off on his own. I knew better than too interrupt him during his moments of poignancy.

When I was eighteen and the events of the opera were a year behind me, our grave-robbing boundaries during the winter were Crucifixus graveyard (almost the whole way over the city) and the graveyard right beside our house. We were never tempted to break them. Amber Sweet had been quite stern as too warn us that her GeneCops were patrolling beyond Crucifixus graveyard during the winter and so not to go beyond there. The Graverobber said 'she only ever told us that so she could get her Z'. I like to think that her concern for us is now beyond where she will get her next 'fix' with the amount of bounding experience we now have had since I was seventeen.

That was also the same winter 'little sparrow' came to us.

Early one evening, earlier than the other Scalpel sluts usually came, Graverobber and I were getting ready for another night of selling when we footsteps. Graverobber looked around the alley corner and saw the most peculiar person. He was rather peculiar with his bright orange hair that spiked up and the way he was inspecting the garbage in the alley way. He dressed very nicely, in a suit, and was rather short too. We both started at him, our curiosity sparked as he crouched down looking at the rubbish bags:

'Hey.'

'Hey to you too' I said pleasantly.

'I am Mr. Johnus griviety Sparrowly,' he said. 'I'm just looking down the alleys here.'

Graverobber and I looked at one another as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

'So?' I said. Graverobber still unsure of what to make of this man.

'Just thought you'd like to know is all. I'm looking for a Z fix'

'Whats your occupation?' Graverobber said putting his free hand into his coat pocket and wrapped his other arm tighter around me.

'I am a retired journalist. Don't worry, I'm no threat.'

'You look downright puny for a journalist.' Graverobber said raising an eyebrow. 'How old are you?'

'I am 50 years old dear sir' he replied walking towards us. 'Plastic surgery you see. Turns the clock back. I maybe little but I'm old.'

'Yeah, even your name is longer than you are. It's about a foot longer I bet.'

The man chuckled at this, 'your boyfriend's funny' he directed at me. His English accent becoming more apparent as he spoke.

I turned to the Graverobber 'yeah. You ARE a funny man aren't you?' I said giving him a slight puzzled look. He returned my look with a devilish smile.

'Although it's not anymore funnier than yours. Apparently yours is 'Graverobber' right?'

Graverobber nodded. 'But I'm big enough to fit mine.'

'Nice. Call me Little sparrow.'

'Seems fitting' I said as I shuffled my feet.

'Yeah. It fits you just right' Graverobber said amused by this man's sense of humor.

And thus we were introduced to Little Sparrow.