"I keep trying to kick you out of my infirmary, Riffie, and you keep telling everyone all about how much you hate it here… But in spite of all of that, here you are again. What am I supposed to do with you? Shall I continue this vicious cycle? Shall I simple heal you up again, kick you out again, and then place bets on how many days it'll be until I see you again? I bet I could make a lot of money…"

Rifka closed her eyes and sighed, smiling wryly as Damon cheerfully berated his worst, most frequent patient. His bandage skill had completely healed the cuts she sustained from jumping through the window, and it was healing the burns across her back quite nicely, but unfortunately he couldn't do anything for the damage to her lungs. They were all going to have to wait for her body to heal that on her own.

"You know," Damon leaned down to speak conspiringly to her, "there's a teeny tiny, slightly vindictive rumor going around that you might not get your voice back." He chuckled to himself, unable to see the darkening expression on her face. When he caught a glimpse of the murder in her eyes, he grinned at her. "That's the spirit! You just show those jerks you're going to be sassing them until your last breath!"

Rifka opened her mouth to laugh, but clenched her teeth to stop herself. She wagged a hand at Damon's joke before relaxing onto the bed again, exhaling carefully. Silently, she took stock. Her throat was still raw, but her stomach had been telling her it was quite tired now of soup, water, and herbal lozenges. She had been given a small notepad and a pencil so she wouldn't have to resort to yes or no questions all the time, and with a murmur she scribbled a note onto it. "Haha, yes, you're all very funny! By the way, I'm hungry – don't want more soup. Options?"

Damon read the note and hummed thoughtfully, tapping his fingers against his lips. "Hmm… I'll send a note down to Jerri. He'll know just the thing to cheer you up."

Nodding, Rifka gave Damon a thumbs-up and closed her eyes to rest until food arrived.

It didn't take long, for Jerri was a master at his craft. Rifka was able to smell the food the minute it arrived, which she took as a good sign that her sinuses were healing. Her stomach growled and she looked up expectantly.

The large silver tray was brought to her bedside, and Damon helped two other nurses ease her into a sitting position. When the lid was lifted, Rifka looked with eager curiosity for what Jerri had created for her. The large plate had a mound of fluffy mashed potatoes on it, covered in shredded turkey mixed with matchstick noodles and thick gravy. There was also a mug beside a steaming teapot, and a small selection of teas to choose from.

Rifka clutched her hands to her chest, then put her palms together and bowed her head.

"We thank you, our Lord Jerri in Kitchen, for this meal we are about to receive…"

I don't think that's how that prayer goes, Riffie. Darkpaw told her with a laugh.

Rifka grinned shamelessly. "What? Don't be silly, that's exactly how this prayer goes."

Lifting her head and opening her eyes again, Rifka poked through the teas and picked an apple cider flavor that she felt would pair perfectly with the fall flavors of her meal. While the tea steeped, she picked up her fork and dug into the food. The potatoes were mashed to perfection, fluffy and flavorful and soft on her throat. The turkey, noodles and gravy were also soft, easy to chew in the way the turkey just seemed to melt in her mouth. The flavors were rich, if maybe slightly salty, but she knew that the seasonings would help her throat far more than another glass of water.

She sampled the tea and closed her eyes in appreciation. This is what she needed, she could feel it in her belly. She could hear it too, detecting Darkpaw's distant purring. Encouraged, Rifka cleaned the whole plate, then sat back carefully to finish her tea.

"How do you feel now?" Was Damon's first question upon returning to check on her.

Rifka smiled up at him, setting down her mug and picking up her scribble pad. "Better!" She scrawled, underlining the word and tracing over it with her pencil until the letters were bolder. Damon laughed.

"Good, good!"

After a few more days of bed rest and treatment, Damon announced that Rifka could start getting up and walking around again. He did his best to caution her not to push herself yet, but he knew that she would anyway. She just didn't have the patience, or perhaps she had too much pride, to sit around being useless every time she was injured. Privately, and in his notes to the Supervisor, he expressed his worry that she was burning herself out too fast. Alone in his office, Komui sighed heavily as he slipped Damon's notes into Rifka's file. Distraught, he removed his glasses to rub at his eyes.

"The Parasitic types are always like this… In and out of the Infirmary like it's a Gift Shop… How can I possibly tell that child to be more careful? Does she even know the meaning of 'slow down'? The Order can't afford to lose another one…" He stared at the file morosely for a moment, before writing some notes of his own on the report from Damon.

On her first day of freedom, Rifka took a leisurely stroll to the Science Department. It always struck her as odd, and yet heart-warming at the same time, whenever she felt how happy the various Finders and Scientists were to see her. She made small talk, via her notepad, wandered about, carefully though, to make sure she didn't tip over any stacks of paperwork, and casually asked about the other exorcists, to see who was out on mission and who was still at home.

As she left, she sorted through her scribbled notepad pages, piecing together all the information she had gathered, and came to the crestfallen conclusion that all her friends were out on mission.

Stepping into her room was refreshing, if only for a moment. The room was completely still. Quiet, and a little chilly. There was a ribbon on her nightstand that Kanda must have forgotten the other day. Rifka's lips twisted to the side. She really didn't want to be alone, which was an odd sensation for her. Once upon a time she had preferred it, but she realized the truth now – she had made friends, and she'd gotten used to being around them.

More important than not wanting to be alone however, was her desire for a shower and a change clothes. Damon said both were okay, so long as she went easy on the soap and returned to the Infirmary for fresh bandages afterwards.

She collected her shower toiletries and a fresh outfit from her room, and then headed for the baths. Being unable to sing or even hum made the experience increasingly tedious, but the pleasure of scrubbing her hair clean after so many weeks in the Infirmary felt good.

Feeling the beginnings of a forlorn mood, Darkpaw piped up. Don't feel bad, I'm working on something to help with your throat.

Rifka blinked in surprise, her loneliness pushed aside for curiosity. "Really? What's that?"

I don't want to say yet. I don't know if it'll work. Gimme another day, and I should know for sure.

"Okay…"

She was very careful while washing her body, gently cleaning her new scars and trying her best not to rub or scratch them too much. Once she was clean, she had a soak with blackberry-vanilla scented salts. The patches of her skin where she was still badly scarred ached and stung, but the relief in her muscles was worth it. Plus, she smelled amazing.

After drying off and getting dressed, Rifka returned to the Infirmary in a surprising display of obedience. Unbeknownst to the staff, Rifka had decided she did not have the energy to spare on stubbornness. She hadn't expected to be quite this tired though, not when all she did was walk around. It was bad enough that the nurses' teasing of her went completely over her head. She sat down on her bed and tried to brush out her hair, but fell asleep mid-stroke.

Awaking the next day, Rifka discovered that her hair had been brushed and plaited for her into two braids, which were hanging down neatly over her shoulders. She looked around at all the nurses, busy with their duties, and smiled to herself. For as much of a brat as she knew she was to them, they were still always there to help. Even if all she needed was her hair brushed.

One of the nurses came over to check on her. Licking her lips, Rifka took a drink of water and cleared her throat, testing herself a little.

"Breakfast…?" She winced as her voice cracked halfway through, reaching up to rub her throat.

Hang on! Try asking again, but don't use your voice!

The nurse saw Rifka's gaze turn inward, watched the play of bemusement across her face, before the young woman shrugged her shoulders and looked up at the nurse again.

"I'd like to have some breakfast, please."

No, no, don't say it to ME, say it to HER.

"How?!"

If I knew that, this wouldn't be an experiment! Think it at her, or something!

Rifka gazed at the nurse and narrowed her eyes slightly, her gaze becoming intense. "I would like some breakfast, please."

The nurse smiled back at her, rising from the chair beside the bed. "Yes of course, right away." She got almost all the way to the door before she realized she had heard Rifka's voice, but had not seen her lips move. She paused and looked back, her mouth open and her brow pinching in confusion. "I'm sorry, but you did just ask for some breakfast, right?"

YAHOO!

Rifka nearly choked on a laugh when she heard Darkpaw's yowl of victory in her mind. She nodded an affirmative to the nurse, beaming pleasantly and giving her a thumb's up sign. As the nurse left the room to call the kitchen, Rifka's gaze turned inward again. "What have you done to me?"

Well, you of all people should know that cats are telepathic! With both your body and your voice-box still mending, I figured I needed to find something to keep you busy. Now we have something we can practice while we're healing.

Rifka was amazed and speechless. Darkpaw had apparently been doing a lot of thinking while she was asleep. This was the second time the normally unpredictable Innocence had acted in a thoughtful and… responsible manner. "This is terrific, Darkpaw! Who will it work on?"

Well… Anyone, really. Unless they're a blockhead. Like, literally a complete blockhead.

"Is that so?" Rifka pursed her lips and glanced to the side, rubbing the side of her hand slowly across her jaw. "Can I scream in Levellier's head and make his eyes bleed?"

Darkpaw laughed at Rifka's vindictive question. Not unless he's here. And I wouldn't suggest it, not this soon. I'm not sure how much effort that would take.

Rifka narrowed her eyes and flexed her hands. "I want to train this as much as possible."

That made Darkpaw laugh again. Mark this one in the history books, everyone! Rifka actually wants to train something for a change!

Rifka felt her cheeks burning and muttered to herself, glancing down and around and pushing her hair back from her face. "What are you talking about? My English is still fine!"

Mmhmm, and we have Kanda to thank for that one.

"Oh stop already! Show me how to train this… ability?"

Darkpaw chuckled for a moment more before settling down. All right. We'll need to find someone to talk to.

Rifka glanced around the Infirmary. "The nurses are too busy; I wouldn't want to take up their time."

She heard Darkpaw make a grumbling noise of agreement, followed by thoughtful silence. Lab?

Rifka brightened. "Hey, that might work. If all the scientists are too busy, maybe there's a Finder that can help."