Disclaimer: I own Chrysalis, but I don't own Repo! The Genetic Opera. 'Nuff said.

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed Chapters 9 and 10 of this fic, as well as leaving feedback for The Magic Bracelet. I should have a poll in my profile now about which character I should write a fantasy one-shot for next, so…go vote, pretty please? Thanks! :3

And now for the main event…

Chapter Eleven: Mirror, Mirror

"So, I take it you've been hanging out here?"

Graverobber and Shilo had been careful to use the set of stairs that doubled as a fire escape, for there was no telling what the reactions of the other tenants would be if a known criminal suddenly showed up at the place they called home.

"Pretty much. I slept during the day and I looked for you at night, at least up until ten minutes ago."

Shilo giggled to herself as she reached the top of the stairs, turning around just in time to raise an eyebrow at him.

"Now that I don't have to track you down any more, I'll have to go find some book to read to keep myself busy."

"You say reading like it's a crime," he joked back, faking a frown.

"Well, it's a lot safer than breaking into someone's mausoleum, isn't it?"

They had reached the top floor of the apartment building, which meant that a final short walk into the hallway awaited them. Shilo allowed him to go through the number 1 door first; then followed along behind them until they had reached a trapdoor in the ceiling.

"Watch your head, Grim."

There was a cord attached to a small ring hanging down from that trapdoor, and one merely had to give the cord a short tug to make the door open. From there, a stepladder unfolded to give any visitors access to the attic above.

"After you."

Graverobber soon found himself in between two makeshift rooms that took up equal space within the attic. On one side, there was a battered desk, a weather-beaten chair, a bed that had seen better days, a metallic thing he had no name for, and a brown leather suitcase full of girl's clothing. On the other side, a half-polished sink, a cracked bathtub, and a semi-new washer and dryer waited in the shadows; complete with empty detergent boxes, half-used bottles of lemon-scented cleanser, and two loaded laundry baskets littering the floor.

"I use the restrooms on the third floor when I absolutely have to, and most days I visit this nice Chinese restaurant down the street," Shilo said proudly. "Nobody worries about me being on my own here. They hardly know I came in the first place!"

"Huh."

He took a look at the 'bedroom', then the 'wash room', and finally focused back upon her.

"Guess you're doing a lot better than I thought, kid. Where did you get that rusted piece of junk over there?"

"It's funny what a person can find if they look hard enough. I came across this broom closet on the ship, and there it was, waiting for me."

She made him sit down before the thing that looked like an undersized radiator; then pushed the dial to 6.

"Stay here for a moment, okay? I'm going to go check for a good decongestant and some zinc tablets."

"Sure thing."

Graverobber had no idea what those fancy medical terms stood for, but he nodded and went along with it anyway. As Shilo went to the second room in search of the needed medicine, he felt a small wave of hot air emanate from the space heater. He held his hands up before the machine first, and then rubbed them together to get the numbness out of his fingers.

Life had been pretty empty since the night he left the Jolly Roger behind. The double line of guards surrounding the Sanitarium Square Cemetery had dwindled after a while, leaving him to slowly return to his business as usual. The level of danger to his life went down, while the amounts of Zydrate and credits both went up. He'd even found a few of the usual hookers a bit prettier than usual on occasion, although he never felt serious enough to pursue any of them.

He'd loved this reversal of bad luck as much as any guy would, but it didn't hold a candle to meeting up with old friends. He'd wondered about Shilo a whole lot more since he made himself disappear, so it was good to see her looked after and comfortable in a place like this. Norm and Steve sure outdid themselves by picking these rooms out for her. Perhaps, if the kid was doing fine on her own at this moment, the others would also be as fortunate…?

"Here we go."

She set a little plastic cup of medicine into his right hand, followed by a zinc tablet into his left.

"The liquid stuff will help you breathe easier, while the solid stuff is good for a sore throat. Go on, drink it down."

The scruffy man did as he was told, but with a look that signified a foul aftertaste once he'd swallowed it.

"Better?"

"I'll give it some time before I tell you the results."

The kid's smile had lasted from the time she brought him here to the moment he downed that vile garbage. Was it just his imagination, or did she actually want him around?

"That's okay, it'll be better soon. Just give it a week or two, and you should be back to normal. Um…"

Her expression switched from happiness to hesitation. Probably his imagination after all; unless she was dancing on hot coals again and dying to tell him something important.

"Yeah?"

"…Do you think you could visit more often? After you get all your work done, I mean. I—I'd be glad to have s-someone else to talk to, if that's okay…"

He'd been the one who ditched her right after Amber had ditched him; yet in spite of all that, she wasted no time in asking him to come around more. He was the last person any decent girl would trust, but here she was, doing exactly that and not fearing any bad consequences.

Funny old world. Should I feel honored or worried?

Her dark eyes were so trusting when she looked at him. With a look like that, how could he even think about letting her down?

Definitely honored.

"Sure, Wallace. I'll drop by right before the sun comes up again. How does that sound?"

She didn't look, sound, or act anything like Amber; yet he had a feeling she would give much better company than his skeleton friend ever could.

"Perfect! I'll see you later?"

"You got it."

Tonight, later wouldn't come fast enough to suit his needs.

***

"Finally, alone at last…"

Another busy day had come and gone, and once she had eaten her fill of the evening's ravioli and multigrain breadsticks, Amber Sweet had a few hours to herself before she turned in for the night. She decided to spend this length of time in front of her full-length mirror, where she could not only check for any unwanted food stains on her face and hands; but also monitor the steady growth of her belly and make sure no stretch marks had appeared.

"Three months down, six to go," she told herself, raising the edge of her blouse until a good twelve inches were visible in her reflection. At approximately three months along, her figure no longer looked straight from top to bottom, but rounded into a small bulge in front. She kept both hands pressed against it as she examined herself, quietly pondering what had changed so far and what more would change in the next six months.

In the beginning, she'd been a little cranky from the quick changes in her health. There had been a few instances of heartburn, which lead her to take a special tablet her doctor had prescribed to get rid of the acid reflux. It turned out to be safe for both her and the baby; for she felt no further discomfort once it took effect. Later, on some nights, she had dropped off right away from exhaustion; other nights, she took a bit longer to fall asleep because her bed felt rather uncomfortable. Her breasts became tender to the touch, and sometimes the bulge of her stomach felt the same way. Most of the time, she felt nausea of varying degrees of strength, and every now and then, that nausea would lead her straight to the nearest bathroom. It was a miracle she managed to get anything done at work these days, for there were times where she either could not focus on her daily routine, or else considered quitting to avoid the stress of it all.

Once she got home each day, however, one kind of trouble would only lead to another. Whenever she passed by him in the hallway or sat down beside him at dinner, Pavi would stare at her as though she had just stepped off of an alien mother ship. He had paid no attention to the idea of having a niece or nephew since she first mentioned it, choosing instead to remain engrossed in his collection of mirrors as though nothing had happened.

By contrast, Luigi not only acknowledged the baby's existence, he loathed it. Ever since her announcement, he'd glared at her swollen belly with pure disgust, and often rolled his eyes whenever she excused herself to go throw up in the toilet. He either stood or sat as far away from her as he could, and if she tried to start up a conversation with him, he'd just turn away and ignore her on purpose.

"Just look at that thing," she'd heard him whisper to a GENtern one day. "Some ill-made brat in our house? Where the fuck is she gonna put it, the garage?"

During those times, it took all of her strength to keep herself from screaming and kicking them both in their most sensitive spots. She didn't know what lead her brothers to act the way they did, or what she could do to get them to stop. What she did know was that it hurt, and that there was a chance it would only get worse once her son or daughter was born. In the meantime, she would need moments like this to herself, if only to clear her head and not let anybody's reaction to her pregnancy drive her crazy.

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the size of the tiny human being growing inside of her. He or she would be about three inches long by now; perhaps also with tiny arms and legs that might move now and then, even though she most likely wouldn't feel them yet. Their minute flutter of a heartbeat was one thing she did know about, for the doctor's stethoscope had already proven it was there.

I'm going to be a mother.

The idea had horrified her once the pregnancy test came back positive, but lately, she had begun to wonder if it might not be such a bad thing after all. Even though she had no previous experience with children, she could always learn how to do the right things and act the proper way where her baby was concerned. Even though she'd rarely thought about anyone but herself her entire life, it was never too late to put away her selfish demands and expand her mind to look after a second person. With practice and patience, she could see herself becoming the sort of mother she'd never had—always paying attention to the needs of her son or daughter, keeping them out of danger, teaching them right and wrong, and above all else, never ever pushing him or her aside just to spend extra hours at her desk in that first-floor office. That was a lesson she'd learned the hard way from her father, and she wanted nothing more than to keep herself from repeating it with her own child.

Then her mental picture shifted to include a third person, and something deep within almost made her cry out in anguish. Graverobber appeared before the mirror with her, standing right behind her with his arms around her waist. One hand rested beneath the bulge of her stomach, the other gently caressed it as though to reassure the baby of his presence. Their combined reflections made them look like the perfect couple, and at the same time, they were also the couple that didn't exist.

"He's not here."

Amber shook herself out of her twisted fantasy, and opened her eyes to see herself alone before the mirror once again.

"He's not here because you sent him away, and he's not coming back. Snap out of it."

She dropped the edge of her blouse and made a beeline for her dresser, rummaging around in one drawer at a time until she'd found the nightgown she was looking for. She then changed into the pale blue cotton dress in silence, pulled back the blankets, and dropped into bed without a further thought on what her mind had created.

Once she had fallen asleep, her dreams were filled with soft whispers, gentle hands, and snow-white faces that welcomed her with dark-lipped smiles.