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Grave Matters: A Repo! Roleplay (SevenxKawamura)

When Nathan appeared in the room again, he wasn't just clean, he was completely sterile; his hair was still damp and thus pushed back severely, and with his glasses in his hands there was that strange emphasis on the sharpness of his features, his cheekbones looking hollowed out, his mouth in a thin line. Right then he would have been the very picture of his darker half, though the clear difference was that he wasn't wearing the leather and PVC that was synonymous with Repo - instead, he was dressed in slacks and a crisp, precisely tailored navy blue jacket, with a high-collared black shirt underneath it, one that covered some of the marks Graverobber had left on him.

Ultimately, the look was that of an ill-humoured priest, though the pensive look dissappeared the moment he saw Graverobber, wandering around the room and distinctly trouser-less. Nathan froze, and he stared at the other man for a long, quiet moment, taking in the sight of the other's bare legs for the first time, noting that they were fairly muscular. He thought about what they had felt like under his fingers, and quickly decided his mind was on the wrong track -

- and that the room smelled like sex.

Another small shudder passed through him, but he did his best to push it away,

"Your legs go into the tube-like parts." Nathan said helpfully.
 
Of course they were muscular. Graverobber spent most of his nights (well, not lately) running around graveyards, avoiding GENcops and playing a morbid game of tag with them when he was truly bored. He hefted bodies, lifted coffins and jumped into more graves than you could shake a femur at. Chubby grave robbers didnâ??t survive. Hell, most grave robbers didnâ??t survive, but heâ??d gotten to where he was with an odd mix of luck, skill and a touch of insanity.

Graverobber glanced up, arched an eyebrow, then turned back to his pants. The hairs on the back of his neck and on his arms stood up as the thought â??youâ??re not watching a man capable of ripping out your throatâ?? echoed somewhere in the back of his head.

So maybe more than just a touch.

â??Thatâ??s, what, four jokes youâ??ve made this morning.â? The pants obviously passed muster as he shook them out and slipped into them, one leg in each tube-like part. â??Maybe you should start your own comedy show, a real comedy of menace.â?

Heâ??d take a shower later. Right now he wanted to keep the smell of sex that was clinging to him. It was the dark blue jacket that did it: something about the vicar-like outfit made him want to ruin that sterile composure. Preferably over the heavy, dark table downstairs. He patted himself down, checking his pockets. "Need any help?" he asked, making his choice not to shower very clear.
 
"It would be short-lived." Nathan replied drily, watching as Graverobber tugged his clothes on; he was forcing himself to detach right then because he knew that they would be sitting with Shilo and a number of unfortunate questions could possibly come up. He was also aware that there was a chance of running into Graverobber on the street again later that night, and he wasn't entirely sure how Repo would handle it - though he knew there was little chance his darker side would be kinder because of their -

- was it intimacy?

Was it a one-time thing? Nathan wanted to believe his willpower would allow it to only be a slip, for him to have just needed it so desperately that one time that he could resist the next - but he was less certain now. Would he fold, the next time Graverobber brushed up against him, or would he be able to ignore it as he had before?

The aftermath was confusing, and he was sure he didn't want to think about it then - no, he would wait until later, when he had the time to himself to consider what had happened. He left the room then, and went down the stairs, finding Shilo sitting at the table, dressed in charcoal and cream hued ruffles, black bows and stripes - and the sight of her made Nathan smile, because she looked like a little doll sitting there.

"Is he okay?" Shilo asked, stirring a spoon through a small amount of yogurt, "Marcus, I mean - he slept over right? But he wasn't on the couch, so he was in your room - it's just, you weren't on the couch either."

Nathan felt his throat suddenly constrict, and he had to sit down then, staring at his daughter as she stated her observations; he saw his own reflection on the stainless steel refrigerator and recognized how pale and drawn he appeared right then,

"And you came out late." she added, "Is he still sick?"

The question offered no relief; Nathan couldn't help feeling as though he was walking into a trap.

"I've been keeping him under observation." Nathan managed to get out, and Shilo looked at him out of the corner of her eye for a long moment, and Nathan froze under the gaze of his skinny seventeen year old daughter, feeling as though he was being picked apart.

"Dad?" Shilo asked, but there was much more in the single word.

"Yes dear?"

Shilo hesitated, and then smiled down at her yogurt, continuing to stir it, and Nathan found himself slowly flushing.

"Nothing." she said.
 
The world was a much easier place for Graverobber. Sure, he had a job that could get him killed any night of the week, and yes, he could think of at least three things he had done within the last month that would get him a slow and painful death in GeneCoâ??s fabled sub basement. And he had currently seduced a man with more sharp objects than a broken mirror and more neuroses than a floor of a good sized mental hospital, but his mind was still blissfully clear of worries as he went about washing off his smeared make up.

He looked up, hands pausing somewhere around the level of his chin to drip into the spotless sink. Now this was a little odd, looking at himself in the mirror without all the cosmetics. Graverobber sometimes forgot what he looked like under the oxygen-deprived colors he preferred, and that was twice in as many days that he had seen himself.

And then, and this was the reason why the world was such an easy thing for him to process, the young man shrugged and simply went back to washing his face.

Graverobber managed to come down right after the father-daughter conversation appearing, unfortunately for Nathanâ??s weak excuses, very not sick. In fact, without the dead clown paint, he looked lively and perhaps just a little too smug. Nathan was red, he noted, so the kid (clever girl) had probably caught the two of them red handed. Well, Nathan was caught; Graverobber, on the other hand, had nothing to hide. The idea of Mr. Wallace trying to explain whatever the hell the thief was to his daughter made him snicker internally.

â??Sleep well, kid?â? he asked, strolling behind her fatherâ??s chair to take his place at the table (he had invited himself to breakfast), not before running a clever hand along the side and back of Nathanâ??s neck as he moved. â??Anything good?â? Graverobber asked, leaning over closely to Shilo to share a conspiratorial wink.
 
Nathan's shoulders hunched as Graverobber's hand brushed against the back of his neck, and his eyes shifted towards the other man when he moved close, and Shilo didn't seem to notice, though her tiny, enigmatic smile did extend a little further at the wink before she grimaced down at the yogurt,

"It's greek yogurt," she said "Dad only buys the plain stuff, he says the flavoured stuff has too much sugar in it."

"It does." Nathan said simply, rising from the chair, not just to put distance between himself and Graverobber, but to also start making breakfast, pulling eggs out of the refrigerator, and Shilo sighed at his back, so he added whilst pointing a finger in the air, "I heard that."

Shilo stuck her tongue out.

"That too." Nathan added, and Shilo cast a startled look at Graverobber, lifting her shoulders in a shrug to indicate that she had no idea how he'd seen her do it, "Eyes on the back of my head, young lady. I had them surgically implanted."

"Well, make sure you pay or the Repo Man will steal your head." Shilo said, stabbing her yogurt for emphasis, and Nathan cracked the egg across the counter by mistake.
 
â??Yogurt has too much sugar in it?â? Graverobber arched an eyebrow, unsure exactly what sort of yogurt Nathan was thinking about. Not that he was a big yogurt eater: the thief generally ate (and the idea would probably kill Shilo if her diet was as strict as it sounded like) things that came out of Styrofoam boxes or, if he was high and really didn't care, things that came out of Styrofoam boxes he hadnâ??t bought.

And here he was, back in this domestic scene. Graverobber wasnâ??t entirely sure what to do with himself, not having much experience with the whole home-making thing: it felt like he was watching some sort of old television show, only completely wrong. The house was still crypt-like and the man cooking the entirely wholesome and balanced meal was a repossession agent he had just sucked off less than an hour ago.

The young man snorted into the literary review he had found (so there were magazines in the house, sort of) to browse. He didnâ??t know any of the names nor titles being that he hadnâ??t been within two blocks of a new bookstore in years, but reading was oddly comforting to him. Not even looking up, he gave Shilo a quick thumbs up.

She might be naïve as all fuck, but at least Nathanâ??s kid had some backbone. "You okay in there, Nate?" Graverobber called sweetly.
 
"Just fine - Marc." Nathan replied drily.

The sound of his name coming from Graverobber's mouth was still surreal to Nathan, and sometimes he felt as though the other man was using it as a weapon; if there was one thing that could be said for Graverobber, it was that his voice was - distinctive. It was a deep, rumbling tone that could make anything sound attractive, and hearing his name being said by him - it did strange things to the doctor, but then, a lot of what the scavenger did was effecting Nathan these days, and he was aware it would be even worse now that they had -

- he wasn't sure he could look at Graverobber the same way without finding his eyes on the man's mouth, which was usually emphasized by the ridiculous black lipstick.

Nathan set the eggs down for Graverobber and Shilo then, and for the first time that morning, recognized that the other man had removed his make-up. He had seen it once before, when he'd hosed Graverobber down, but it had been streaks of white and black on the man's face, but this was the scavenger with clean, natural features, and it made Nathan freeze for a moment, staring - Graverobber looked more human now, he looked warmer, more alive.

His fingers itched to touch him again.

Nathan yanked himself out of his silent reverie then and had to swallow hard to get his voice working,

"Shilo, did you -?"

"Yep." Shilo answered immediately, and Nathan smiled a little; he'd asked her the same question for most of her life, it was a difficult habit to break even though he was well aware that she knew to take her medication.
 
Graverobber grinned. It as a little easier for him, this little game. While he did want to bend Nathan over the table and finish up that anatomy lesson and while that almost breathy quality to his under used voice made even the driest tone very, very pleasurable, the doctorâ??s use of his name did little for him. It simply wasnâ??t something he connected with himself any longer, it lacked all intimacy and meaning. That had never been a problem before, of course: the dealer was loose but he wasnâ??t the sort that generally invited romance.

He wasnâ??t also the sort to stay after wards for breakfast, either, but this was the second home-cooked and completely non-dehydrated meal heâ??d had in the Wallace kitchen. For a moment, just a moment, Nathan was too close in his clean, tailored suit and Graverobber had to fight the urge to do something that would kill both father and daughter from embarrassment.

Shame, though. He imagined Nathan would look fantastic hiked up onto the table.

Talk of medicine reminded him, however briefly, that he had a few gem-like pills rolling around in one of his pocket, and Graverobber couldn't help but smirk (which he hid by swallowing a fork-full of egg). The dealer had learned, though, that sometimes the easiest way to get information was the best. â??So what exactly are you sick with, kid?â? he asked, turning his clean face to Shilo. His knowledge of medicine was very practical: the grave robber knew what sort of bodies he should stick clear of, what sort of symptoms heâ??d see on a fresh corpse that hinted at not an early death from poor financial decisions but something nastier.
 
Nathan froze a second time, at Graverobber's question to his daughter, but he said nothing; he merely dropped his eyes towards the sink and began washing the dishes. His appetite just wasn't there; it rarely was.

"It's a blood disease," Shilo said, glancing hesitantly at her father's back for a moment, watching the way his shoulders had slumped, and her mouth twisted for a moment in an almost pained expression before she looked to Graverobber again, and said in a low voice, "It attacks my immune system, it's what made my hair fall out. And - It killed my mother, I got it from her. It's got a really long name though, so -"

"Thrombotic thrombocytopenic purpura." Nathan filled in quietly, but said nothing else, and Shilo just nodded gravely, glancing once more at her father, who appeared to have stopped moving entirely at that point, staring off at the wall in front of him. His stomach was twisting in a sickening, too-familiar way as he thought about Marni's eyes.
 
Graverobber filed that away, mentally scratching out the name as best he could and folding it away in his mind to ask about later. â??Tough, kid,â? he said gently, though with a complete lack of pity. She was probably used to getting more than enough of that from Nathan. There was that look that he could see in You when she watched Ray stay up too long, the same one he imagined he gave his own dad once a very long time ago before the man ran out on his boyâ??s debt.

â??Hey,â? he murmured, voice low. â??Why donâ??t you head upstairs? Iâ??ll go talk to your dad.â? The thief wasnâ??t exactly sure what he would say: dealers didnâ??t generally comfort. They sold drugs. It wasnâ??t a particularly difficult connection. Responsible adults comforted. Certain professions comforted. Graverobber was a misanthropic tramp that spent most of his time fondling the dead.

He wasnâ??t used to comforting.

Pale hands rested on thin (and Nathan hadnâ??t even touched food, had he?) shoulders. â??Doc?â? he whispered, pressing close.
 
Shilo didn't seem to agree or disagree with Graverobber's statement on her situation; she had lived with it most of her life, and didn't know any other way of living. Some days she felt sorry for herself and sulked about it, but most of the time she was bizarrely well-balanced for a girl who never got to go outside - besides, her father worried enough for both of them, always obsessing over her health. Some days, though, she worried about him.

She nodded at Graverobber's suggestion and glanced once more at her father,

"Be nice to him." Shilo said sternly to the scavenger before she headed for the stairs, padding up to her room.

And Nathan seemed to be distant then, as though his mind had gone somewhere else entirely - and it had, down into the basement room that now served as killing grounds, where he had taken his first life, and the memory of it was as fresh as the day it had happened, the wound suddenly seeming more painful than it had days ago.

And then Graverobber touched him, and there was that familiar lurching feeling in his stomach; he felt as though someone had dumped ice water on him and he immediately jerked away, sick with himself.

"You should go." Nathan said hoarsely, and he caught his own reflection in the stainless steel once more and felt so ill at the very sight that he had to look away, keeping his eyes downcast.
 
â??I probably should,â? he muttered, fingers returning to squeeze kindly. Yes. Because the nasty part of him he had locked away long ago was telling him he should help and the sensible part of him was saying â??look, just eat your eggs and get out before he decides to let Repo take the reins.â??

The thief pressed his forehead to the nape of Nathanâ??s neck as he awkwardly slid his hands down to splay on almost bony hips.

â??Come on,â? Graverobber whispered, unsure of himself and of why he was even doing this. People suffered and they died. That was part of life, probably the biggest part: Graverobber saw death every day. â??Ignore the cleaning. You could go, er, take a nap?â? He wasnâ??t quite sure what the Repo Man did on his days off besides torture him and play hangman with his kid.
 
Nathan was silent for a long time, standing in place with Graverobber's forehead pressing to his skin; not for the first time, the doctor found himself confused - the pain was there, sharp and twisting, reminding him of the - thing - he had become. But then, there was something different this time because as Graverobber touched him, he felt some of the chill in his body seeping away, a small relief from the anguish that he hadn't been able to get out from under in nearly two decades.

And he couldn't explain it to anyone; it wasn't as though the doctor had anyone to talk to, and those who already knew had made a point of using the knowledge to control him, to use him for their own purposes, rubbing salt in an already horrifying wound. He was sure his guilt would be with him to the day he died - but as long as he had Shilo -

- as long as she never knew - then he had something to live for.

Without thinking, one of Nathan's hands found Graverobber's, where it was resting on his hip and for a moment, his palm rested over the other man's fingers - it was light contact, but it meant more than either of them were really willing to consider, and then he let his hand drop away again, and remained silent.

He tried to cling to the tactile memory of Graverobber's skin then, because warmth was so difficult to find these days.
 
Graverobber fought the urge to pull away and sneer when he felt the heat of a calloused hand on his own. If what they had done before was intimate, this was almostâ?¦

He didnâ??t finish that thought: it was a train he didnâ??t want to even consider, not with this broken old man, but he still found himself resting his hands on Nathanâ??s stomach, almost holding him.

â??Whatâ??s wrong?â? someone asked lowly and it took Graverobber a few moments to realize it was himself. He cringed, tucking his chin against a lean shoulder. This was not how he operated. Graverobber didnâ??t get involved and certainly did not offer comfort over something so very banal. Love affairs ended. Some of them ended badly. Seventeen years was too much, though. Fingers tightened almost protectively. â??Your kid seems pretty well,â? he offered, trying to chase away the sudden silence.

Graverobber's world was simple because he didn't spend so much time worrying about what others were thinking and here he was, hands on a depressed widower's stomach, second guessing himself.
 
The touch surprised Nathan; the hands on his hips had been unexpected, but this strange intimacy from Graverobber seemed almost impossible - up until recently, the scavenger had seemed interested in only one thing, the same thing that he got from all of the hookers and the desperate junkies that he sold to. Nathan had been certain he was just part of some challenge to Graverobber, the curiosity of fucking with a Repo Man, digging into his life, prying open wounds and invading his secrets - and he had been certain that eventually the man would get bored with him and continue on.

And, up until recently, Nathan had thought he would be fine with that. He had wanted Graverobber to get out of his life, hadn't he? Things had been complicated enough before he had stuck his ridiculously coloured head into the fray, and now things were even stranger, but the most bizarre was the fact that they were standing together in the kitchen - like that. Nathan felt as though he was being held by the other man, and there was a comfort in the hands that crept around his waist and pulled him close, the chin on his shoulder. He wanted to lean back, if it weren't for the paranoia that he was still being toyed with, that somehow Graverobber was using him.

And Graverobber's voice, the question; it made everything seem surreal because of how utterly normal it was, almost like -

- he shook off the thought. Graverobber wasn't his lover, and the scavenger certainly didn't think of him that way either, they were two empty, angry men who had found something dark in eachother that they could connect with. Nathan wasn't sure what else to call it, but he beat it into his head that the word wasn't appropriate for - this. It wasn't romance.

He just wasn't sure what it actually was.

"Shilo is my world." Nathan said, an agreement of sorts, "I'll do anything for her. Anything to keep her safe."

Some days he wondered if it was even possible anymore.

And even with his hearing, he didn't notice that Shilo's door had opened again, and he didn't hear her soft, calculated footsteps on the stairs, or know that for a long moment, his daughter stood clinging to the railing and watching the two of them in awe. Quietly, Shilo made her way back up the stairs, glancing back once and questioning what she had seen.
 
Graverobber stayed still for a beat, unsure how to answer that. The major thing he had learned on the streets, that Ray had beat into his head from day one of their acquaintance and that he himself figured out from hours of watching people, was that information was key to security. To survive, one had to read the fine print, keep an ear to the ground and, yes, make it outside.

Fathers didnâ??t live forever, after all.

That thought sent a chill down his spine. What would the little girl do when her dad was gone? Heâ??d seen that story a million times before, as well: kids turned tricks to pay for the cost of living, be it for food, Zydrate, or surgery. The ones that didnâ??t got swallowed up by the city: Graverobber had extracted quite a few half vials from under aged corpses. Shilo might have spunk, but sheâ??d be dead within a week, probably at the end of some manâ??s (or menâ??s) dick. Heâ??d seen those sort of bodies, too; had to chase away frail, smelly old men with not enough teeth and their hands on their hard ons before he could get to the Z.

He didnâ??t like the idea of finding Nathanâ??s kid like that.

â??Sheâ??s a good kid,â? he said gently, not asking the one question that was making his tongue curl. Would the father kill her to keep her safe? Heâ??d seen that, too, suicide-murders where he came in on the stiff corpses of a mother and her kids. Graverobber had never been disturbed by that scene up till now but he could imagine it, now, starring Nathan and the little girl. Probably set up right in front of that damned body, father and daughterâ??s pallor painted blue by the images of a wife long dead.

Graverobber didnâ??t like that one either, even when he reminded himself that Nathan would have some really nice things to take when he was dead. He preferred, for perhaps the first time in his life, the very warm body and the breathy voice over whatever he could loot.

It was a paradigm shift he didnâ??t want to explore.

The thief pulled back, just a little, hands slipping back to Nathanâ??s sides. â??Iâ??m going to go take a nap,â? he said coolly, shaking off the almost protective feeling of before. Now that the spell was broken on his side, Graverobber could smirk again then lean forward to whisper in Nathanâ??s ear, â??You have to admit that Iâ??m much better than a cold shower and I have to find some way of paying you back for breakfast.â?
 
Nathan couldn't find it in himself to protest Graverobber's intrusions at that point; arguing with the other man, telling him to leave - it seemed pointless, so he didn't reply to the scavenger, he simply remained silent, though a small chill ran up his spine at the voice close to his ear. Like Graverobber, he was uncertain of when this strange - thing - had formed between them, but some part of him was aware that they were both fighting aspects of it tooth and nail. Everything that was happening was somehow foreign to them.

When he felt Graverobber's hands slip back a little, Nathan finally broke the contact by moving forward, away from Graverobber's touch, out of his reach. He looked at the other man for a moment, and he recognized what was being implied, he recognized the warmth that was being offered by the scavenger, and he simultaneously craved it and recoiled because of the twisting guilt that had returned without mercy.

He tore his eyes away from Graverobber then, and headed out of the room in silence, and he found his body leading him directly to the hallway where Marni's body was kept, and he stood quietly amongst the empty-eyed holographs, hating himself.
 
Graverobber cocked his head to the side, watching Nathan leave. This was his chance. He could just slip out of the house or back upstairs for that nap he wanted. He didnâ??t have to follow the Repo Man down That Hallway to try and pull him out like a drowning man.

He told himself he wanted to for the entertainment. Naps were boring, after all, and sleeping in his run down apartment even more so.

And there the doctor was, right in the middle of that handsomely decorated, dark hallway, his wife staring out from every angle. It was some mix of shrine and cemetery and Graverobber refused to tiptoe through it. â??Nathan,â? he growled, grabbing the manâ??s arm. He was playing, he told himself, as he shoved the widower up against a wall, his own free hand pushing into one of the womanâ??s projected busts as he jammed his face into Nathanâ??s, kissing him before he had the chance to fight him off.

He was playing. He certainly wasnâ??t distracting.
 
Marni's body hung in the tomb, her eyeless face looking out through the small viewing window; preserving a body for seventeen years was no easy task, and her eyes had been destroyed by decay, but he could remember them as clear as the day he had met her - she'd had the brightest eyes, blue-green and surrounded by long lashes, and she would bat them at him coyly when he got embarrassed, or when she wanted to make sure he was paying attention.

Just empty sockets now, but especially in moments like these, he felt as though she was watching him.

And all he could do was hang his head, because he was ashamed of himself, angry with himself; Marni had always told him he was the best thing that had happened to her, but the irony was that if they'd never met, she would still be alive.

But then, Shilo wouldn't be.

He had been so absorbed that he didn't hear the footsteps until they were right behind him, and then a hand was clamped onto his arm, and he hit the wall so hard that his head spun for a moment, his glasses going askew.

"What -" Nathan began, but discovered it had been a mistake to open his mouth, because it was almost immediately covered by Graverobber's; immediately, heat flooded him, and for a moment he forgot where he was, responding eagerly to the kiss - and then he remembered, and Marni was watching and he had killed her, and he was poisoning his child and he was -

- he shoved Graverobber back to try and break contact, his breathing shallow. He stared at the other man, speechless, but his expression showed the agony and the yearning all at once.
 
For a moment, Nathan responded, all warmth and heat and passion in a hall dedicated to showing off a body that held anything but. But then he was pushing back, struggling, his expression that of a martyr while the younger man staggered and regained his balance.

And something else. Something that was much more alive than the corpse on display. Graverobber didnâ??t break eye contact as he stepped forward again, sliding a hand up into neat, graying hair. Nathan was the perfect widower-father, the eternally mourning husband in his conservative outfits and constant love and worry for his daughter.

Just, somewhere along the way, it had twisted. Graverobber felt, almost, that Nathan had pushed his daughter into her own glass display case while he acted as curator. â??Sheâ??s dead,â? he bit out, almost irritated as he molded himself to Nathanâ??s own body, using just enough force to try and keep him there. â??And youâ??re alive. Take it from someone whoâ??s seen a lot of funerals: this is too big of a difference for you two to work through.â? Dark blue eyes didnâ??t blink as he spoke, tone cool with an inexplicable sort of rage. â??Get over it, Doc."
 
Nathan didn't break the eye contact, finding himself drawn to the blue irises and he shuddered when the man took hold of him again, pressing their bodies together so he could feel the other man's body heat, and anger flashed in the doctor's eyes,

"Do you think I don't know that?" Nathan hissed out, trying to wrench out of Graverobber's grip, which suddenly seemed too strong, made him feel caged in, and Repo was stirring again, but this time the darkness wasn't being drawn out by curiosity or temptation, but this time by an anger that was shared with the mild-mannered side, furious that he should be restrained like this. Repo wouldn't allow himself to be held down, it was something that happened to other people - they were the ones who were supposed to be held in place and struggling to escape, not him.

"Do you think I don't realize she's dead, she's gone?" he snarled, trying to find the leverage to strike Graverobber to get him away, but finding there was none, not with the way the man's arms were clamped around him, and the way his body was pressing into him, and the heat - and he thought of that morning, and the way that Graverobber had writhed against him when he'd jerked him off, and how he'd draped over him afterwards, and they'd laid together in comfortable post-coital bliss.

This was the closest thing to a human connection he'd had in almost two decades, aside from his daughter. This was the first person he had to talk to who wasn't blackmailing him, but for all he knew, Graverobber was using him. He didn't have anyone, and the warmth of another body made him feel like he was breaking inside,

"She was dying - she - and Shilo -" Nathan rasped out, but couldn't bring himself to say anymore.
 
Graverobbers hand tightened on Nathanâ??s arms, hard enough now to bruise as the doctor nearly thrashed underneath him. He was angering him and quickly, too, but it had to be doâ??The younger man reminded himself while he slammed the thin form of the old man into the wall again when he got too close to pushing his fuck buddy off, he was doing this because it was interesting not because he wanted to help.

He did not want to help.

â??Then act like it,â? he growled back, lips curling in disgust.

Something snapped, then, in the good doctor. Something that made him almost confess to whatever sin it was that Rotti used to keep him. â??Say it,â? he hissed, yanking that tired face up to his own. â??Shilo what?â?
 
Graverobber wouldn't let go of him, and Repo wanted to tear out the scavenger's throat with his teeth for it, wanted to watch the blood leave him because of what he was doing, because the memories of Marni, and the sight of her blood on his hands and spreading across the floor from the gaping wound in her stomach - it wasn't just hurting Nathan, it was making Repo ache as well, and the monster wasn't used to that kind of pain. That was Nathan's job.

But then he was forced to look at Graverobber again, and suddenly he went very still,

"Shilo was dying too," he said, remembering Marni's last moments; she had been dying so fast, she had started by coughing up blood, but then it was coming out of her nose, and then her tear ducts and her body was being eaten from the inside - he hadn't even had the time to inject anesthetic, and she was still alive when he got the scalpel, knowing she would be dead in minutes, even if he didn't -

- but she'd watched him do it. Marni's eyes had been on him when he'd cut into her body.
 
Graverobber sneered. â??Thatâ??s it?â? he asked softly, loosening his fingers in Nathanâ??s hair. His expression was cruel, judging, but his ever-demonstrative hands were smoothing down the strands underneath his finger tips as if to sooth. â??Thatâ??s your big secret, Doc?â? The dealer didnâ??t pull away, keeping his solid body pressed against Nathanâ??s almost as â?¦

Well, for anyone other than Graverobber, it could be called support, but he liked to think he was doing it to keep Nathan from hurting him.

Long, pale fingers that were nearly the color of the preserved skin down the hall (but not quite: even people that worked night shift ended up with just a little more blush than a corpse) trailed down from Nathanâ??s hair to his jaw, still gentle even as his lips curled. â??If your wife was dying you didnâ??t have a choice. Doctors make that decision all the time.â?
 
Nathan felt no relief from what he had told Graverobber, knowing it was only part of the story - he had killed Marni, that much was certain, but it wasn't just the knife that had killed her, wasn't just the shock of the pain, but it was the medication he had given her beforehand, the mixture that was meant to be her cure, not her execution. He had worked on it obsessively, he had been thorough and detail-oriented, he had done everything right, he was sure of it - it should have saved her, it should have ended her suffering, but not the way that it did.

Somewhere along the way, he had made a mistake and murdered her in his efforts to help her; he had gone over it time and time again, gone through the files and dozens of documents and trials he had made along the way, he had looked over the blood samples he had taken from her - he still had some of them, some of Marni's blood slides, he couldn't bring himself to get rid of them - he had spent months poring over it, trying to find out what he had done. Everything was how it was supposed to be, but he had killed her.

His eyes dropped away from Graverobber's at the question; there were things he couldn't tell anyone, and even with Graverobber's fingers running through his hair, and the body pressing against him, and the overwhelming urge to curl up against the other man, he he managed to make his voice sound cold and unwelcoming:

"You need to leave." he said.
 
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