It had been another late night for Graverobber. But then again, it usually it was. He sighed loudly as he kicked Claire's door closed behind him, calling out through the house. "I'm home."

There was no response. No pattering of footsteps, no closing or opening of doors. No anything. Just pure silence. And it scared him.

Claire always welcomed him home. Always greeted him with a smile and a fond look. Always. So what had happened to make tonight different? She wouldn't have gone to bed until she knew he was alright, and even if she had dozed off, she would have been curled up in the chair just across the room from him. But no, there was nothing.

Graverobber took a moment to collect his thoughts, listening for any noise. "Claire?" He called out softly, noting the lack of any signs of forced entry. So, she still had to be here. No one had come in, that he could tell, and she wouldn't have gone out. He'd told her hundreds of times that it was too dangerous for her to go out alone. Without the ability to scream, Claire was far too easy of a target.

The house had only two stories, with no cellar or attic, so she would no trouble hearing him. And even if she was… indisposed, she would have let him know she'd heard him.

He gave the bells on the wall by the door a filthy look, wishing that one of them would ring and tell him where she was. But instead, the bells remained mute, and he had no other choice but to go looking for her.

When the first floor held no answers, he headed upstairs, occasionally calling out her name. Silence continued to answer him, and he found his heart starting to beat faster than it should.

Finally, he stood before her bedroom door, hand hovering over the ornate knob. He took a deep breath, knocked softly, and then opened the door.

Relief began to flood his veins when he saw her lying on her bed. She was just asleep. Of course. It was late, and it had happened before, and he supposed he must have just been over-reacting…

The relief rushing through him turned to ice when he noted the lack of movement from her chest. She wasn't breathing. Two stumbling steps later he was leaning over her, checking for a pulse.

None.

Wait. Yes! There, just a tiny, tiny throb beneath his fingertips. He waited; wanting to be sure he wasn't just imagining it. He lifted her head, acutely aware of how filthy his coat was as he sat on the edge of her bed, acutely aware of how grimy his hands were as they brushed through her hair.

But that wasn't important now. He needed to make sure she started breathing, make sure…

His mind suddenly went blank as he saw the little glass vile on the bed next to her. It was empty, still inserted into the gun like a battery.

With his mind still reeling, he felt Claire shudder next to him, her breath starting to come back in large gulps of air. He had no doubt that if she'd had a voice, she would have been using it to moan.

She clung to him as the last vestiges of the drug wore off, leaving her shaking slightly in his arms. She was panting now, and he could feel her pounding heartbeat through their clothes.

One of her hands snaked up the front of his coat, moving to tangle in his hair, and her eyes slowly fluttered open.

Graverobber had seen people come off Zydrate numerous times, but this… Being so close to it was…

His brain snapped back into gear, and his eyes narrowed dangerously as curiosity and concern gave over to anger and fear. "Claire, what the hell were you thinking?"

Lilac eyes focused in on his, and Claire's face drained of all color. She stared at him, eyes wide, and opened her mouth. She stopped, closing it again, and started to shake her head.

"Oh so you weren't thinking at all, is that it?" He snapped. "I told you no; Claire. Never."

She shook her head again, eyes imploring and their message clear. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. She leaned up to press her forehead against his, the hitch in her breathing the evidence of her fast-approaching flood of tears.

"You scared me, Claire." He whispered softly. "You scared me. I didn't think that was possible."

She pulled away far enough to smile at him slightly. I'm sorry. She mouthed.

"I know." He looked her over; checking for the needle-marks he now knew must exist. "How long have you been shooting up?"

She stared at him. Her eyes showed her evident surprise and just a touch of… Wounded pride. He'd insulted her.

"This was the first time?" He tried to make his tone conformational, not confrontational. Apparently it worked, because she nodded.

And the only time. She mouthed. I was just curious. I'm sorry.

"It's alright to be curious." He replied, relief starting to mingle in with his current agitation. "But you could have asked. I would have told you."

She gave him a questioning look, and he knew she was right. He never would have told her what it felt like to take gun to skin and inject.

"Alright, so I wouldn't have told you." He admitted with a shrug. "But you still could have asked."

She giggled at that, a hissing of air from her nostrils that he'd always found kind of cute for absolutely no reason at all.

"Where did you get it?" That was his next biggest fear after her having formed an addiction. Black Market Z could be dangerous if the harvester didn't know what they were doing.

But smiled sweetly, slipping a hand into the pocket of his coat and pulling a little glass vile out between her forefinger and thumb.

"You pick-pocketed me?" He asked, unable to keep a slight smirk out of his voice.

She nodded eagerly, eyes bright.

"You little sneak; I knew there was a reason why I liked you so much."

Claire's smiled softened, and she pulled him into a hug. He felt her hand slip back into his pocket, returning the full vile to where it belonged.

He moved to return the hug, gently picking up the gun from the bed beside her and slipping it back into his pocket. The last thing he needed was for her to have both the temptation and the opportunity.

He had enough to worry about without having to keep checking her for needle-marks every time he came home.


I regret nothing. XD