Disclaimer: See Chapter One. Lyrics used are Grow Up and Blow Away by Metric.

Chapter Two- Getting Up Again

If this is the life
Why does it feel so good to die today?
Blue to gray
Grow up and blow away...

Day One: On the floor. The carpets 122 thread count.

~*~

"Ah, looks like the flock's all here."

"Only for you Graverobber. Now, give us a spark?"

~*~

Day Two: Still on the floor. My cleavage is killing me.

~*~

"Any of you seen that girl around? Deathly pale, deals high-grade glow?"

"Not since…was it Wednesday? Two nights ago."

~*~

Day Three: Finally got up. Made it to the shower. Glows getting tempting.

~*~

She was staying at the Red Trieste Hotel, trashy little darling of an inn. The manager hasn't seen her, but she slips cred under the door.

Good enough for me.

~*~

Day Four: The shower went cold. Finally ate something. The couch smells funny. Passed out on it anyway.

~*~

Torn between lifting her stash, or thanking her for this nifty little thing. Suppose I could do both. Mind you, I'm still just a grave robber. I'll leave her supply be. Long as she's breathing that is.

~*~

Day Five: Showered again. Made it out this time. Decided Glow isn't a good idea; it's unnecessary. I'm already numb. Ate again too. Maybe I'm finally getting back to normal.

Still spent a lot of time staring at the ceiling.

~*~

If the kid was able to take me down and out, she can take care of herself. No need to linger on the thought like some damned social worker. Have to do something if I can't get it out of my head soon though; came too damn close to getting nabbed working last night.

~*~

Day Six: Feels like I'm starting to be ok again. Still can't go outside. Tore apart my old leather work trousers for a bit of arts n crafts.

Left the TV on in the background. Explains why they broke our deal. Love to kill her, but would I get the chance?

Doubtful.

~*~

Had to admit though, she did look a little off. Entrepreneur, after all, trained to read people and such.

Most are painfully easy; neglected, abused, Daddy's-too-perfect-little-angel. Each with its own hallucinations of originality.

Really, they're all the same, even the Opera kid. Zydrate addicts in the making.

Every last one.

~*~

Day 7: Completed a full day. Got up before 3, showered, ate breakfast; the works.

TV isn't really as great as I thought it would be. Or maybe I just needed a new cable provider? Sure as hell hoped so. If this was the best man-kind could get, I was in serious fragging trouble.

~*~

No one's seen her on the street in a week.

Desk clerk's been paid up for another month, four days ago. Hit the streets tomorrow as usual, might pop in, just to thank her for the lovely trinket. Sale's were already up.

Could even score a free room. Interesting possibilities.

~*~

I couldn't put it off any longer. The food supply was obliterated, and I had been washing the same outfit all week (Yes, I spent a great deal of time lying around in the nude because of this).

I had to leave the room.

A list, I'd make a list of everything I needed. Now where did I put that pen?

"Looking for something?"

~*~

As my previous assessment stated, she looked off. Eyes, too green to be organic, (I retract my previous statement) were hollowed from lack of sleep. The skin looked sunken into her skull, the beginnings of starvation. The only clothes covering her skin were a pair of hacked off leather-brown shorts, and some sort of white tank-top-undershirt. That was it. And they left very little to the imagination.

Especially when the heating was on the fritz.

Did I mention those things were far too big to be organic. Not at her age. No fucking way. They had to be at least C's, and she was cold. Or excited. And what a dirty, pretty little thing she was.

"Well, shit." Was the first and only thing she said after those good 60 plus seconds of silence.

"Pardon?"

~*~

"I must have passed out. And am now in some hallucinatory subconscious coma deal. And I was about to go out to eat too! God fucking damnit."

Oh yea, that had to be it. Maybe I hit my head on the table on my way down. Wasn't there some old wives tale about states of unconscious? Kill yourself in a dream and you wake up sort of deal? But what If it hurt? Damnit. This was just going to suck no matter how you looked at it.

"Why the heck are you still here? Hell, why are you in my head at all? I mean there's no need for it. I should be hallucinating someone helpful, or in the least fucking meaningful. Grange, Kendall, hell even Dead Eddie would be better than this. "

I ran my hand along the crown of my skull, hoping it wasn't wet.

~*~

Yep.

Definitely one crazy fucking chick.

If the painstakingly stacked vials of Z were anything to go by. They had been organized, and then arranged in careful little towers on the coffee table before him.

"Ah, kid, what are you doing?"

"Checking my head for bleeding, I wonder if I hit my head on the way down from whatever fall I clearly have taken."

~*~

He shook his head, the hallucination, and then did something very, very strange.

He pinched me.

"You're not dreaming, kid."

Huh. Well. This was embarrassing. If I could be embarrassed. But if I was awake and conscious, then it still raised the question.

"What the fuck are you doing here then?"

Probably just to rob me. Or get revenge for our last run-in. Maybe both? Shit. I hadn't thought of that. Could I make to my bedroom for the stun-stick? Probably not. The man's a fucking giant! One step and he'd have me easily in his grasp. And then I was screwed.

Well, wasn't this just fucking fantastic.

~*~

"Seeing if you're still living."

That put her off a bit. But at least it stopped the back-pedaling. Look at that, afraid of the big bad wolf. Knew it wouldn't take long.

"What's it to you if I'm alive or dead? You don't even know my name."

Kid had a good point. But what the fuck was I supposed to tell her? 'You've been stuck in my head all week,' wasn't going to end well. Hell, I'd end up getting knocked out. Again. How the fuck had she done that anyway? Still, freakish strength wasn't all she had.

"But I do know you have a very nice supply of medical grade Zydrate. And it is my job, to steal, and rob…"

No, I wasn't going to kill her. But hey, if something just, happened to go south, I wouldn't let a good stash go to waste.

There went that fucking backpedalling again.

"And with me alive?"

~*~

"With you alive…I thank you for this lovely trinket."

I knew that was a good idea. Though it apparently also brought him here, but hey, when do plans ever work out perfectly? Least he wasn't beating the crap out of me. I'd call it a plus side.

"Think of it as a peace offering. I'd hate to have an enemy to deal with."

I certainly had more than my fair share already.

"Where'd you find it?" the thief asked, holding up the original GENtern harvester 200 series. The street value was…well..I could probably stop graving for 10 years. Unfortunately, I couldn't take that route out even if I wanted to. Rarity of the thing, fencing it would come back to me somehow. And then I was just another corpse in concrete below.

"Supply truck ran a flat after running over my spike-strip," I lied. Though it wasn't a complete falsity. We had gotten it off a supply truck, but it wasn't stolen. It was given. You could have called us outside contractors for Geneco corp.

"Neat trick."

"Thanks. Now if you're not here to beat me to a pulp, I really need to be on my way out."

He frowned a bit, as if he had caught of the wiff of something foul. Maybe it was me, but I didn't think that was it either.

"Don't steal my whores, kid, and we should be alright."

Now there was a promise I couldn't make.

"I'll stay off your turf."

A simple shrug of that never-washed jacket was all I got in reply, along with the words:

"Close enough."

It was all the compromise I needed.

Like a grungy cat, he seemed to slink out the window in filthy grace. Then I realized, it wasn't all I needed.

"Hey, wait."

"Yes?" he smiled, chalk-white face popping comically into view, like some gothique clown.

"What the hell's your name? If I run into you again, I'd like to have something other than "The creepy guy who came in through my window."

With a dramatic gesture of the hand, all too stage-like, he replied

"You can call me Graverobber."

I turned and laughed.

"Very creative. Did you grow up in a cave? 'This mother, I father, fire we make?"

He was already gone when the silence urged me to look back. Ah, well. I'd be seeing him again. Whether this was good or not, I couldn't say.

But it was nothing a hot shower and a well-deserved shopping trip couldn't fix.

Nothing at all.

A/N~ So I'm trying to update all my fanfics. At least the ones I deem worthy of continuing. So I'll be bouncing back between this and about a dozen other things. Expect many new chapters on my page if you like anything else on there. Otherwise, R&R!!! It may make me come back to this one a little sooner.