Author's note: This chapter has strong sexual content. You have been warned!


He awoke to find her weeping. This time, he knew it was not Marni. This time, he knew whose tender sobs tore pieces from his still-beating heart. Oh, Shilo, his pride, his treasure, the only thing in this world he could call his own. He'd thought she'd grown-up since... since she learned what a monster he was. Looking down, he saw his wrist had been bound in white. This couldn't be a hospital. There weren't any of those "GENterns," as they were called; technically nurses who, he did not comprehend why, paraded about in those preposterous fetish uniforms. He'd always hated the sexualization of medicine, which was more than his field. It had been his life. That world of unique human industry had celebrated his mind and his dexterous hands, brilliant at delicately carving out tumors, fat, and scar tissue. He'd been more than a masked horror.

Look what he'd become. A wreck. He was disappointed in himself.

Shilo, seated into a white fold-up chair, cried into her hands. With her knees folded under her chin, her body clothed in a pale pink dress that failed to cover her white thighs, he saw how very young and vulnerable she was. He thought he'd been doing the right thing when he tore the razor through his vein. His death would have freed her to live her own life- change the world, as he knew she could, and be an angel, as Marni had been.

God, and that would be an honest lie. All that was true, except he'd done it for himself. His wife in heaven was waiting for him. Now that his wins were laid out for the entire world to judge, and Shilo had somehow slipped his grasp, Nathan's every waking moment was one of shame, and fury, and deep, cutting loss. What he and Shilo had all those years was good. He'd kept her pure, and safe. He needed her to see that he had only good intentions, and the results spoke for themselves.

"Shilo," he said.

She jerked to attention and dropped her hands. Her feet lowered and touched the ground, and her dress was immodestly, innocently gathered up at the top of her thighs. Her face was bright red. She had her mother's lovely dark eyes, and he had made them blurred and red from weeping. "How could you," she finally said.

"I did it for you," he said weakly.

"No, Dad. You did it for you. You know what? I don't want to hear it."

"You have to know—"

"I'm the one who found you! In your own blood. You put me through that," she accused. He couldn't deny it, exactly—if she'd only listen to him! "I don't care why. Does it matter why you traumatized me? I can't trust you, not even to be alone with a scalpel."

"Sweetheart, please."

"Stop! Dad, you can't make this okay. You can't explain it away, or sweep it under the rug, or pretend it didn't happen." She was up from the chair, her hands tangled up in her wig. "I'm starting to understand why you didn't want me to live in the real world, because here, we have to deal with the consequences of other people's actions. You're legally dead, Dad, because everyone wants you dead. What do you think the Largos would do if they learned? You're not protected by your title anymore. I'm all you've got, and... You're all I have," she admitted, resentfully. She breathed heavily, her angry tears transforming into resolve. "I couldn't take you to a GeneCo hospital. But I couldn't let you die."

"Where am I?"

She smiled wanly. "This is an independent clinic. You were really lucky, actually. They didn't want to... um." Her focus kept shifting to his wrist. "I'm sorry, I can't be here. If you wanted to put me in debt, congrats, Dad, you did it."

"Shilo, wait. Sweetie, what are you saying?" He reached up and took her hand, gently guiding her to sit beside him on the cheap cot. "What debt?"

"I won't keep you in the dark. We'll be honest with each other, like we always should have been." She took a deep, steadying breath. "You killed staff here. These are honest people, and they don't have a lot of dough to spend on things like organ payments. Everyone's seen your face now, Daddy. For them to give you service, I had to promise some things. Since you're awake, I was going to go talk to the management here and see about settling my debt."

"Shilo..." He touched her arm, hating how cold she was, like the dead. This place was cold. He took a ratty blanket folded at his feet and placed it over her shoulders. "Please don't do this."

Shilo laughed, bitterly, staccato, and shrugged off the blanket. "When have we ever listened to what the other person wanted, huh, Dad? You can't talk me out of it. I'm doing this because I do love you." A frown worried her childlike face. "Is that why you did it? Because you said 'I love you' and I didn't say it back."

"No, Shi."

First chance he'd get, he'd take the next exit out of this life. Shilo deserved better than to be dragged down into debt, sunk by his anchor. But, by God, she was an angel. As she walked to the open door, the bright light in the hall made a halo, breaking in the downpour of dark hair and flooding at her feet and drifting between her legs.


Free clinic, that's what they'd told her. Yeah, free for everyone but her. This Repo Man had massacred several beloved staff, and this was an opportunity for revenge. Turn down care, let him bleed out in the cold. Oh, except it was inconvenient for them to watch his pretty daughter weep. She'd had to beg and plead for them to use technology and medicine to save her dying father. But they'd take it out of her in blood. A blood debt, a devil's bargain. She lost her breath, thinking about the chasm that life was pushing her towards, and leaned on the wall for purchase. She didn't have enough experience to judge if they were taking advantage of her, a sheltered girl with few options, none of them good.

The office door swung open for her, courtesy of the spidery older woman in an olive pants suit. She felt that she was walking to an execution. Ms. Merriman had no sense of humor, and she didn't offer her any of the candy that was in the little dish on the corner of her desk. Shilo fiddled with her hands. Her stomach twisted and turned as she heard details of murdered strangers. A young doctor who had so much potential, and two little boys to feed: lungs. A receptionist who'd worked for GeneCo and backed out when the Largos lobbied for organ repossession: brainstem. It wasn't Shilo's fault. She wanted to take her dad home, and keep him alive and safe. Irrational as it was, she felt she owed him that. Merriman explained that their continued silence, given the circumstances, given the incredible cost, was worth more than her tears.

"I sympathize for what you've been through, and what you continue to deal with. You're an adult before you could ever really be a teenager." She smiled sadly over her tea. "I think we can make an arrangement that everyone will be happy with. Our lawyer—yes, we had to have one—drew up this contract." She passed a clipboard to the girl, heavy with stapled papers.

"What is it? What're the terms, I mean," she fumbled.

"If you want your secret kept, we want something in return. It pains me to say it, but there is a shortage of clean, young organs on the black market. The human body can live with only one kidney. That would be sufficient."

Shilo thought she was going to be sick. She flipped through it, terrified as she remembered that the mighty fine print had been Mag's downfall. "This is a lot," she said, referring to the amount of words.

"By all means, take it and look it over. Go for a walk and clear your head. Unless you have a decision now?"

She demurred with a shake of her head. "No, I want to think about it."

She got up from the chair and stumbled out, out of the office, out of the building, the clipboard pressed to her chest. The cold and the noise hit her at once in a rush. What a babel of blaring adverts and chattering passersby awaited her, disorienting her further. This was not a nice neighborhood. Were any neighborhoods "nice?" Even her grand house was situated by a massive graveyard. A rat skittered past her feet, and with a shriek she darted past the buildings, as if running could save her. The cold air struck her, made her feel alive. It was invigorating, and she never wanted to stop. She hit a dead end. She read the graffiti, laughing. Repossess this, indeed. The city's denizens were a sarcastic bunch, and she loved it.

Investigating a shuffle, a rustle of papers, she cautiously approached a dumpster. She put her fingertips on the edge and stood on the balls of her feet to look inside.

Graverobber read a magazine, Evening Slice, while lying on garbage. He closed the paper and set it down.

"Kid," he acknowledged her with a nod. "Care to join me?"

"No way. You come out here."

He did. "Now I know you must be following me. This is my day of rest, kid."

"In your dreams." She looked him over, surprised that he wasn't covered in dirt. "Um, could you help me?" His eyebrows jumped. She handed over the clipboard. "You know somethin' about reading the fine print."

"What'd they get you for? Can't see you wanting surgery," he mused. "Then again, you never can tell."

"No!" She scowled. "It's for my dad."

"What? 'fraid I don't catch your meaning there." Graverobber took out his monocle, twisting the chain around his index finger. "Your father wants you to..." He scanned the print on the see-through skim of the paper. "... 'relinquish one kidney?' The man has a strange sense of parental responsibility if he'll allow this, much less encourage it."

"He doesn't know! These people want to sell us out, and I have got to do this to keep him secret." She wrung her hands. "I don't have the cash to pay them off."

"Such a shame." He flipped through the papers. "You're still virgin to the knife. For now."

She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. "I hope I'm doing the right thing. It's hard to tell. We made so many sacrifices for each other already. What's one more?"

"Your relationship has never been one of equals. Hey, little doll, don't you cry." Anticipating her need by the tremor in her voice, he brushed a tear that appeared at the border of her eyes. "Wouldn't want your make-up to smudge."

Shilo tried to smile bravely. "There's no choice. Will it hurt?"

"No. No!" He laughed, and she felt silly for asking and immediately comforted. "Honest, it won't hurt. Not even a twinge. You'll go to sleep, and when you wake up, you'll have a pretty new scar." Her hands, almost of their own accord, touched a yellow stripe in his hair. "Does that help?"

"Yes. Thanks." Her stomach still ached, like she'd swallowed a fruit pit. "I'm so nervous. I don't know how I'll ever let them get that far. Got any ideas?"

"A few. There's meditation... quiet breathing, calm thoughts..." He pondered, or pretended to. "You have an idea of your own?"

"I'll take that kiss now." She grabbed his shoulders.

He scooped her up, held her close, and kissed her voraciously, so greedy it made her head spin. All her concentration went into putting as much into it as he was. She was unafraid of falling. Adrenaline fueled the passion, and she kicked her legs, pressed her palms flat against his chest. He growled and swung about, depositing her onto an alcove in the wall, then bending to cover her body with his. She giggled at the wet sound of kissing. Acting on a strange wish to feel his skin, and see just how much chest hair was under that silk shirt, she reached for the bottom of the garment and tugged up.

"Hey. Not so fast, there, sugar." He kissed her cheek soundly. He looked to one side, checking for observers. "Doesn't look like there are any witnesses. Alright, you want to forget? I can help you. Let me help you..."

Breathing heavily, she nodded, and took one end of his scarf in each hand to draw him down. He undressed her quickly, tapping her lips when she complained about the cold. In return, he gave her his coat to sit on, and she tried in vain to cover herself with her hands. She didn't have much in the way of curves, and she knew it. Graverobber had stopped kissing and touching, and had left her to shiver as he scrambled through the dumpster.

"Knew I saw something in here... Where is it... Aha!" He came up with a prize, what looked like a purple egg in closed packaging. He waved it at her. "Kid, has anyone ever told you your breasts are darling?"

She blushed and adjusted, one arm moving to cover her chest. She was hidden in the alcove; someone would have to be standing in Graverobber's position to see her. Even so, she worried, and that added to the rush. Anyone could walk by. "What's that you've got?" she asked.

"Vibe. Never been opened. Hell if I know why these people buy and then don't use." He cracked the plastic. It should have taken scissors, but he was just that tough. She laughed. "Move your hand."

"Which one? Why?" She moved back.

He checked for batteries, smiled smugly, and hit a button on the controller. The egg hummed and shook in his hand. "Trust me."

"Bad choice of words."

"For pity's sakes..." He put a hand on her knee and roughly moved her leg apart. He spread her lips and placed the vibrating sphere up to her opening. She gasped, her legs immediately flying up spastically, almost kicking him in the nose.

"Ah!" she cried, twisting and wriggling against the wall. He pushed it further in. "Graverobber!"

He grinned at her.

"Fuck! Stop, stop..." But her hand was in his hair, fingers tight. "Fuck." He was stimulating things she didn't know could be stimulated. He stopped and pulled it out.

"Something wrong? Kid?" he spat out. He kissed her shoulder and let her feel the vibrations on her thigh, teasing.

"I didn't... you can.. do that?" she heaved. "More, please, more." She locked her arm around him, hand to the back of his head, and pushed his head to the crook of her neck, and he nibbled and ran his tongue in random patterns up and down the sensitive skin.

"This," he murmured in her ear, "right here?" The 'vibe,' whatever that meant, slipped back into her folds, and she moaned as Graverobber found a spot that she didn't even know existed. "That's your clitoris."

"Ah—didn't know that," she barely got out, bending her head down. "Oh, it..."

"Feels good?" She nodded helplessly. "It should." He stroked her walls with his thumb, and the unexpected contrast in sensations made her gasp. "Hey. You react any louder, and someone could hear you."

That pushed her over the edge, and she choked out a sob of ecstasy as she rocked. Satisfied, he kissed her shoulder, turned and chucked the egg into the dumpster. She thought he was finished, but he hunched and kissed her stomach, trailed his tongue down between her thighs. Her eyes widened. Surely, he couldn't be—and then he did, and she had only just stopped shaking from her first hysterical paroxysm when he slipped his tongue inside her. He lapped up all the wetness that had come out of her. She sighed. She could melt. She could die happy.

"Okay. Get up, get dressed." He picked up the bundle of her clothes and tossed them at her. "Have fun with your surgery, kid. I bet you'll look beautiful with a scar. More beautiful, that is."

As she got dressed, and even though he'd serviced her, Shilo couldn't help but feel a little bit used.


Shilo took a strong tranquilizer and went under the knife. They did precise work. She didn't feel a thing when she came to several hours later, but she did vomit. And, true, there was a scar over her stomach, each stitch obvious and black. Merriman told her it would heal up nicely and that everything had gone according to plan. There was nothing to worry about.

They even let her look at her kidney, bagged and in a cooler full of ice, before they tagged it and shipped it off to who knows where.

She avoided her dad while she recovered. She was too embarrassed by what had happened between her and Graverobber, and she worried the whole incident could come tumbling out. Her dad had a way of making her feel guilty for even breathing. How would he react to her giving up her kidney? How would he react to her giving up everything?

Finally, when she was up to it and could walk without an IV pump, she went into his room.

"How are you, Shilo?" he said, his voice warm even if his face showed no emotion. She ruffled his hair.

"I'm okay. Daddy, don't pull me on your lap. I'm weak yet," she explained.

"How did you cover the costs?" he asked worriedly.

"Umm. I sold them my kidney. I read the contract all the way through, don't worry."

"I wasn't worried. I know you can take care of yourself." He was careful as he kissed her cheek. "By God, you are an angel. My angel." She hugged him and forced a smile. She should have felt relief that he wasn't yelling at her. Instead, she only felt resignation. "Let's go home, Shi."