Disclaimer: Wow... I think I may be running out of ways to tell you people that I don't do funny disclaimers! Okay, the usual - I do not own Repo! or anything else that's particularly awesome. Except this sweater... It's comfy.

A Brief Author's Note: Apparently I've done it again and hit the thousand-word mark right on the dot. Now before you reach for your flamethrowers, yes, I'm going to pick on Graverobber again. And if you've read my other fics, I realize I tend to hit him with stuff a lot... It's okay though, I let him give it back to me in... Oh hell, this is just a T-rated fic, so this needs to be a T-rated Author's Note...

Don't you just wish I'd quit my bitchin'? On with the fic!

Concussion

They both heard the sharp, sickening crack of his head impacting briskly with the gargoyle's wing. Shilo spun around just in time to hear the resulting yell of "GODDAMMIT!" and see the Graverobber kick the statue. She watched him hop for a moment, looking rather silly as he pressed a hand to the side of his head as well. Brown eyes rolled heavenward, and then the teenager approached the city's most talked-about criminal. His eyes, while flashing in irritation, had a bit of a glassy look to them and he pitched a little to the left.

"You have a concussion," she informed him matter-of-factly.

The Zydrate dealer cracked his neck both ways, making the most of the offensive noise that caused and taking no small pride in making the kid flinch.

"Nah, it's just a bump," he threw back, his attempt at smooth talking coming out more like he'd had a drink or two.

Shilo shrugged and rolled her eyes again.

"Whatever," she brushed it off, picking up her satchel and his leather bag, the latter she extended to him. "Let's just get out of here before you trigger the alarm again."

Graverobber's attempt to wink at her lost most of its effect on the fact that he was developing what would turn out to be a magnificent shiner. In other words, his right eye had started to swell shut and the skin around it turning purple. He reached out and took his bag, trying not to tilt his head at it.

"As I remember, you set it off last time, little missy," he reminded her, still slurring his words as he attempted to swagger past her.

The theoretical 'swagger' came out in practice as more 'stagger' as he pitched to the left again, flattening his hand over his bummed eye. Had Shilo not been so worried, she would have found the situation quite comical – okay, so she laughed in spite of herself! She hitched up her satchel and tottered off after him, just waiting for him to fall in a hole or something. Sure enough, he misjudged the clearance of a low headstone and sent himself sprawling. It was a good thing the indoor environmental control had been set for 'spring' and he had nice grass to pad his fall.

"Are you all right?" Shilo demanded, hustling over and plopping down on her knees beside him.

That Cheshire cat grin split his pale face, dark lips pulling back to expose scary-white teeth.

"I'm perfectly fine," he tried his best not to slur while still grinning at her.

Shilo, for her part, found it neither cute nor intimidating – to her, it was just annoying. She had been around him long enough to know it meant he was being evasive. However, she also knew it did next to no good to call 'bullshit' on him; it would just make him deny everything. Graverobber, mostly aware of the teen still watching him, lay back on the soft grass, tucking his hands behind his head. Before he could really think about it, or much of anything else, for that matter, his eyelids started to droop. Something rang out in his mind that a nap sounded really good right about now.

"Mmm… feels nice…" he mumbled, his eyes sliding completely closed.

Before he could settle in much more, a small, thin hand slapped him right on the cheek. Startled and angry, he sat up, his glassy eyes blazing.

"Ow!" he yelped, unthinking of his reputation as 'scary Graverobber' at the moment. "What the hell was that for!?"

If Shilo'd had enough hair to tug on in frustration, she would have done so. Since she didn't, she just made a huffy noise and fixed the Graverobber with a catlike 'you're a moron' stare.

"You can't sleep now - you have a concussion!" she repeated, increasing her volume as if she thought that would make him listen.

"But I'm tired," he whined.

Okay, now Shilo knew he was loopy – she planted her face in her palm.

"I d'n't g've a d'mn," she told him, words muffled in her hand. She gave him another look and he tilted his head, shutting his left eye so he'd only see one of her. "Don't you know that if you go to sleep while you have a concussion, you could… like… not wake up?"

Her voice thinned out at the end – she was strung-out at the thought of losing someone else and being alone in the world again. Graverobber gave her a lopsided, more genuine version of his Cheshire cat grin.

"Trust me, kid---"

"Shilo," she interrupted him.

Normally, he would tease her, call her 'kid' a few more times, maybe 'little missy' again, just to see what she'd do. Today, however, he heard the plaintive note in her voice.

"Shilo," he said agreeably, his tone as serious as he could get it in his current state. "Trust me, Shilo – I know a thing or two about knocks on the head."

Timidly, Shilo laid a shaking hand on his knee, looking up at him with those brown eyes the size of tea saucers.

"So you know why I'm worried, right?" she practically begged – normally she had more dignity than this, but if he could whine like an eight-year-old, she could too, dammit! "I mean---"

Clenching his left eye shut so he could do this right, Graverobber reached out and laid a finger on the teenager's pale lips.

"I know what you mean," he told her, still as serious as he could be. "But I don't have a concussion – it's just a little bump."

Whatever, Shilo thought, as she let him drape that same arm around her shoulders and pull her companionably against his side. So he wouldn't get it through his thick head that he had a concussion? Fine! He had done so much for her, now she finally had her chance to help him. If she could just keep him arguing, keep him talking, keep him awake…

***

One thousand more words, on the nose - thanks to Microsoft Word!

Author's Footnote: Yeah, this one was a bit more light-hearted than the others have been. I can just see Graverobber being all stubborn after he hit his head.