DISCLAIMER: If I owned Repo!, there wouldn't be a half-assed remake. That demon seed will not get a penny from me. Seriously, though, Repo! isn't mine. None of the characters or locations herein are mine. Sueing me would be a waste of time, because I am flat broke.

AN: The reason this took so long to update is my computer decided to be stupid, i.e., crash. It took a while to find a temporary substitute and recover most of my files. Basically, guys, be smarter than me and back up your files. I apologize for my idiocy, and present you with a slightly-longer-than-usual chapter. Though, as these have been getting longer and longer . . . okay, Vespa, time to shut up.

***

"No pressure, kid," said Graverobber. Shilo could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "No rush. Not like we got other places to be. We got all the time in the world."

Shilo ground her teeth together in annoyance, and winced a little. Even three days later, her new tooth was still tender at the root. The doctor who'd fixed her up had done an excellent job considering they'd declined to pay him: Graverobber's needle gun had been all the persuasion he'd needed to carry out the procedure free of charge.

The two of them had broken into one of the quieter cemeteries on Crucifixus, one that the GeneCops frequented only rarely. It was Shilo's third attempt at a Zydrate extraction. The first two times, she'd missed the hypothalamus and come up with a mix of blood and brain matter. It had taken every ounce of determination she had not to betray her disgust—and her terror that Graverobber would leave her if she couldn't get it right wasn't helping.

Graverobber was lounging against a nearby tomb, fiddling with his needle gun as he watched Shilo. It had actually taken him a good five tries to hit the right spot for Zydrate his first time out—but that had been more years ago than he really cared to remember, and in any case, he had no intention of letting Shilo in on that little chapter of his history. He was kind of enjoying Shilo's struggles: the more riled she got, the more flushed and determined she looked, and the more attractive. He was only human, after all. Who could blame him?

And he was loving that new little skirt she had on.

Shilo gripped her needle tighter and prepared to plunge it into the corpse. Graverobber had proven himself a man of nearly infinite resource: he'd provided her with a set of syringes in various lengths and gauges, new clothes, and a bag to carry her things in. Yet for all his apparent kindness, he kept his distance, refusing to let her in or let her get close. Which, Shilo mused through her frustration, was probably for the best. She definitely couldn't trust herself around him. Everything about him made her both intensely uncomfortable and strangely electrified. She couldn't get him out of her mind. When she tried to sleep at night, she could still feel his eyes raking her in, his hands ghosting over her arms, touching her bruised mouth—

Shilo gave her head a little shake. Keep focus, she told herself. Concentrate. Don't think about him. Just prove you can do this. Don't give him an excuse to leave you.

And he probably would, too, the bastard. Shilo was not loving the status quo. Three days, and she still had no idea where she stood with him.

She steadied her hand for the fourth time and prepared to push the needle in. Just one—little—push—

In it went. There was a slight punching sound as the needle broke through something Shilo didn't really want to think about. All that was left was to pray it came out blue. Shilo shut her eyes and yanked it out.

Graverobber leaned forward to see what the outcome was. "Nice, kid," he said. "About damn time." He felt a twinge of pride. The girl was learning faster than he had.

Shilo opened her eyes. Sure enough, the vial in her hand was glowing bright blue. She glanced over her shoulder at Graverobber. The sight of him, just sitting there and not doing a thing to help or encourage her, only irritated her more.

"I'm glad it met with your approval," Shilo muttered. She removed the vial of Zydrate from the syringe and slipped it into the pouch on her belt.

"I'm sorry, did we say something?" drawled Graverobber behind her.

That was it. All the resentment and confusion Shilo had been feeling came bubbling to the surface. She got to her feet and glared at him. "In case you haven't noticed," she told him icily, "I haven't complained once in the last three days. I haven't said a word about being hungry all the time, or having to sleep all huddled up to keep warm, or praying that whatever my dad had me on doesn't knock me out again, or you checking out my ass at every opportunity—oh, you know you do," she added angrily, for Graverobber had actually put a hand to his heart, feigning great insult. "And you just—just sit there and ignore me, you treat me like—and you're the one who said I could come! I've just been waiting for you to be gone when I wake up, no warning, no nothing."

"You think I'd do that?" asked Graverobber heatedly. Did she really think so little of him? He'd saved her life, and she thought—

"How should I know what you'll do or won't do?" Shilo forged on recklessly. "You lie and deal drugs and rob graves and murder and fuck anything you can get inside—"

"Kid—"

"And stop calling me that!" she spat at him. "I'm not a kid! My name is Shilo! Is that so damn hard for you to remember?"

Shilo wasn't really sure how it happened. One minute Graverobber was lounging against his crypt, and the next he'd leapt up, crossed the short distance to her, and shoved her against the wall of a mausoleum. He glowered at her, practically radiating danger. His large hands pinned her arms roughly as he loomed over her.

Shilo glared up at him. She knew she should be scared of him, knew he wanted her to be scared of him. But now that she had let loose the diatribe that had been building in her for days, she couldn't find it in herself to be frightened. All she felt was anger.

"You going to kill me?" she hissed furiously. "Shove your needle in my brain and sell what you find? Or just fuck me once I'm dead?"

"Don't tempt me," he growled through his teeth. His fingers tightened reflexively on her arms, and Shilo gasped in pain. She struggled, but Graverobber easily quelled her movements. He shifted, capturing both her wrists in one hand and pinning them above her head.

Shilo's resentment started to ebb away, to be replaced with fear. Would he hurt her? He'd proven he was capable—the first night with him, she'd woken in a cold sweat, remembering how he'd broken Latch's neck so easily.. Graverobber was a lot bigger and a lot stronger than she was. He could do her real harm if he decided to.

Graverobber stared at Shilo, equal parts impressed by her nerve and furious with her. She had balls, without a doubt; there weren't a whole lot of people willing to go head to head with him. And there was no denying it was hot. Even like this, even scared and angry, she was still beautiful. Maybe even more beautiful than before. Was there anything about this girl that didn't turn him on? Just being this close had him hard for her. Well, he might as well take advantage of the situation, while he had her like this. Graverobber's lips stretched into a devious smile.

"Don't tempt me, kid," he murmured again. Shilo opened her mouth to protest the word, but stopped as his free hand came up and settled on her neck. He caressed Shilo's throat, just under her jawline, pressing just a little harder than was comfortable. His hand was so large that it spanned the width of her neck. His touch was intimate but dangerous. Shilo was very aware of his fingers against her jugular and the heel of his palm against her carotid. Her heart beat a frantic tattoo against her ribcage, and an odd pressure settled somewhere in the base of her stomach.

Graverobber dropped his gaze to her lips. He was very close to her, a scant inch away from her face. Shilo wondered, a little dazedly, if he was going to kiss her—

Shilo gasped again as he shifted. He pressed his body against hers, and bent to reach the hollow of her neck. His hand left her throat to hold her waist. She could feel his mouth on her throat, the faintest brush of his lips. It wasn't a kiss, just a touch, but with just that slight contact she was powerless to stop him.

She didn't want to stop him.

God, how could he do this to her? How could he make her feel like this? She'd realized that he was a mercurial being—he shifted from irritable to distant to seductive without a moment's pause—but she never would have thought he could transform her. One minute she was furious with him, the next minute craving his approval, the next scared to death of him, the next wanting him so badly it almost hurt. She didn't understand him, but he had captured her somehow.

Graverobber's mouth trailed up the side of her neck. "You've got a lot to learn, kid," he breathed in her ear.

"Like what?" Shilo managed.

Graverobber chuckled low in his throat. His hand stroked her hip, then moved up her side. She felt nice, nicer than any body had in a long while. He left her ear to hover over her mouth. The tips of his fingers trailed over the arch of her cheekbone. Shilo shivered under his touch, and sighed with anticipation. She felt soft and pliant. Christ, he wanted her. And she was his, completely; her breath came in short little pants that drove him absolutely insane. She was almost begging for him.

"You need to learn . . ." Graverobber almost purred. Shilo could feel his warm breath on her lips. He was so close . . .

"What?" she whispered. She ached to close that last distance, but didn't quite dare.

"Not to let your guard down so easy."

Graverobber let her go and stepped away from her. It was hard—he really wanted her—but moments like this were worth it. Shilo actually let out a mewl of disappointment, and Graverobber grinned: a job well done. He opened his hand and held it out for her to see. Resting there was a glowing vial of Zydrate. Shilo felt in her pouch, and found it empty.

"You bastard!" she cried. "That's mine!"

"Then take better care of it, kid," said Graverobber easily. He tossed the vial back to Shilo, who tucked it away again, scowling. "The next guy to try to take it from you might not be as nice as me."

Shilo snorted derisively. "You're the last person I'd call 'nice.' Not after . . . whatever the hell that just was."

"You didn't seem to mind."

Shilo blushed brilliant scarlet and turned her back on him. Folding her arms, she walked away and leaned against the mausoleum wall. She felt frustrated beyond the telling of it. Graverobber initially thought she was pouting (and who could blame her? He was damn hot, and every woman on Crucifixus knew it) but then noticed her back shaking slightly.

Jesus, had he made her cry? All his pride evaporated. Fucking great, genius.

Graverobber went to her and touched her shoulder gently. "Kid—"

"Shilo." The girl shrugged his hand off.

"Kid." Shilo didn't turn around. "Listen, I'll make a deal with you. I'll call you by your name."

Shilo turned at that, hopeful. He was relieved to see no trace of tears in her eyes. "Really?"

"Sure. When you call me by mine."

Shilo scowled at him again. "I don't know your name."

"Then you'd better get used to 'kid.'" Shilo glared. Graverobber sighed. "Look, I am who I am. I deal Zydrate. I rob graves. I lie, I cheat, I steal, and I'm not particular about who I fuck. Sometimes I like to mess with your head. And yeah, I've killed people, when I had to. But I won't hurt you, not ever, and I won't leave." Graverobber reached out to touch her arm, then thought better of it and lowered his hand.

Shilo was silent for a long minute, eyes downcast. Then she muttered, "Everyone leaves. My mother, my godmother . . . my father. You're the only person I have left, and I can't trust you. You'll leave, too."

"I won't. Not me."

"Promise?"

It was Graverobber's turn to hesitate. She'd caught him off-guard with that one. Promises weren't good for much in his world, his promises least of all. To be honest, he didn't have a great track record at this sort of thing. Secrets were more his style, but promises?

But he could do this. This girl was his now. He wasn't about to let her go. So he nodded. "Yeah. Promise."

Shilo nodded briskly to the ground, then looked at him again. A very small, very shy smile appeared on her face. "Sorry I yelled at you before."

Graverobber grinned. "It's harder than that to hurt my feelings." He paused a moment, then added quickly, "If I had feelings. Which I don't."

"Oh, no, of course not," said Shilo, mock-serious.

"Wouldn't want you thinking I emote or some shit like that. It's bad business."

"I agree."

"Just as long as we got that straight."

Shilo giggled, sounding more like a genuine seventeen-year-old than she had in days. He held out his arm and gave her a little bow, and Shilo dropped a small curtsy and took his arm. The girl and the graverobber began to make their way out of the cemetery, back into the city proper.

"Um . . . before," said Shilo hesitantly. Graverobber peered down at her. "When you . . . you know," Shilo muttered. "You wouldn't really have . . . would you?"

Graverobber smiled enigmatically but didn't answer. Let her mull that one over. Sure enough, Shilo flushed beet red. God, he loved that he could make her do that.

"Your virtue is safe," he told her evenly. "Unless you'd like it otherwise."

Shilo wrinkled her nose at him. "Not a chance," she said. She wasn't sure if she was speaking to him or to herself. She knew what she'd be dreaming of that night. That odd pressure in her belly hadn't abated at all. "Besides, three corpses defiled? I don't think I have any virtue left." She wiped her free hand on her skirt, grimacing at the streak of dirt she left behind. "I can't even remember what it's like to feel clean. I need a shower more than anything else—and so do you," she added. "You smell terrible."

"The lady doth protest too much! I smell fine."

"You smell worse than that last body, and God only knows how long it's been dead," Shilo insisted. "If you're going to be around me all the time, the least you can do is smell vaguely human."

"The smell comes with the job. Nothing I can do about it."

"You can shower."

"It's just dirt."

"It's unsanitary."

"Kid."

"Graverobber."

He actually smiled at that, hearing the dealing nomenclature coming from her pretty little mouth. Truth be told, he was feeling a little ripe. A shower might not be amiss. And Shilo had that determined set in her eyebrows, the one that said I am absolutely going to get my way on this.

Fine. He'd let her. This time. Once.

It wasn't like this was going to become a pattern with them.

***

HOLY COW, six people have added this as a favorite story! I feel honored beyond the telling of it. Vespa is very, very happy. ¡Muchisimas gracias!

Feedback would be lovely, and constructive criticism especially so. Flames are very not cool, but that's what the ninja hit squad is for.