My apologies. My train arrived late. (Rawr!)

Enjoy!

Rio hummed happily as she drew. It seemed like nothing could possibly be wrong with the world, the concept of a bad day escaped her. Her level of happiness became borderline ecstasy as she became entranced by what she drew. Her fingers flew across the paper, and it seemed as though she just sat back and watched to her heart's content.

The picture was starting to come together now, Rio could see it. It was Kurama, holding in his cupped hands eight different jewels set on chains, looking very sad. Rio decided only to give color to his eyes and the jewels. Nothing else in the drawing seemed to need color to communicate itself.

She flipped to a new page in the same art book. Grabbing a stick of charcoal, she set it loose on the paper. Rio paused for a moment to stare at the drawing. This time it was a hand wiping her father's forehead with a damp cloth. His face was contorted in pain; the whole right side of it was swollen.

What could have possessed me to draw that She wondered. She wiped the back of her hand across her damp forehead. "Ow!" She cried out suddenly, her hand burning her forehead. She clapped her other hand to her forehead and looked at the back of her right hand. It was blistering red and burned to touch.

"That looks like it hurts," Said Donovan from his vantage point on the bed.

"You!" She exclaimed, unable to quell the note of happiness in her voice. "How long…When did you…?" She trailed off.

"Oh, about fifteen minutes, give or take," he smiled lightly. "You were so consumed by your drawing that I didn't want to disturb you."

Rio flushed, her face growing hot. "I wasn't that into it…" She muttered.

Why am I getting embarrassed like this? She clapped a hand to her heated cheek. What's wrong with me?

"I brought you some lunch," Donovan changed the subject. "Are you hungry?"

Rio opened her mouth to speak, but her stomach spoke for her. She grinned sheepishly and held up her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. "A little?" She smiled apologetically.

"That's good. It's nothing special though, just sandwiches." He commented, motioning towards a small table in the center of the room that had the food on it. "May I sit with you?" He asked cordially.

"Of course," she said, surprised that he asked. "It's not like I have a lot of visitors," She laughed halfheartedly, reminded for the first time that day that she was not in the room of her own free will.

They both sat at the table. Rio, ravenous, started eating her sandwich. They were silent for a few moments. "How did you hurt your hand?" Donovan spoke up, motioning towards her hand.

Rio put down her glass and looked over the back of her hand, studying the red-hot skin. "I spilled coffee on it," she said, grinning at the absurd truth.

"Oh, come now. That doesn't look like any coffee burn I've ever seen." He grinned.

"No, it's true!" She tried to justify herself. "I spilled coffee on it the last day I was…" She paused, recollecting the painful memory. "Home," she finished dully.

Donovan was about to ask, but Rio spoke up before he had the chance to speak. "Say," she said. "Tell me…Why am I here? Is there something wrong with me?" Her eyes begged for an answer.

"Well…" Donovan hesitated, wondering whether to withhold the information or not "You see, you're a special case," He finished lamely. "Normally when people are brought in here, they're brought in because of what they've done." He said.

Rio looked at him. "What they've…Done?" She didn't get it.

"They killed people," he explained. "Or, at least, that's what the lucky ones did." He shuddered slightly. "That's how we know they're out there. We don't have a magic alarm that tells when someone goes crazy." His voice sounded a little regretful. "We have a "retrieval squad"—for lack of a better name—that apprehends them and brings them here. Most cases, it's simple loss of control, or a demon not understanding its surroundings." He looked at her to see if she was following his explanation.

"So…" She said, wondering if she truly wanted to know the answer to her question. "Did I kill people?" she forced out.

"No, you haven't." He reassured her. "That's one of the reasons it's so unique to have you here," he stared. "You not only haven't had an episode, but Koenma's own spirit detectives brought you in. That's only happened one other time since I've been here." He mused, remembering.

"Who is Koenma? What are spirit detectives?" She interrogated him.

Donovan looked taken aback. "You don't know…?" He shook his head, starting to wonder why she was there. "Well, Koenma is the son of the spirit world ruler, King Enma. King Enma doesn't do much in the way of taking care of the smaller things anymore. Koenma makes all but the biggest decisions by himself. He has a few different elite groups besides the Spirit Police to help handle heavier matters; the most famous of them being his Spirit Detectives. There are four steady members of the team, I'm sorry, but I don't remember all of their names." He smiled apologetically. "Over the time since the creation of the team, a fifth member has been added quite a few times, but all of them came to unfortunate ends." He sighed.

Rio nodded, washing down a mouthful of ham and cheese with cool water. "So," she swallowed. "What did I do to be here? Am I going to go crazy?"

Donovan laughed. "Not if I can help it." He flashed a smile. "Koenma hasn't said why you're here as far as I know, but my guess is that he knew you'd be in trouble. It's funny, really. You're the hot topic of conversation around here. Everyone wants to know all about you," he paused to take a sip of his drink. "And more importantly," he gave her a scrutinizing look. "What you can do."

Rio finished her third sandwich. "What can I do?"

"Well, you sure can eat," he commented.

She flushed, glancing down at her empty plate. "Hey, you haven't eaten any…Oh." She caught herself too late. Suddenly self conscious, she apologized.

"It's not a problem," Said Donovan politely, suddenly seeming distant. He took another gulp of his drink. Rio tried to be polite, but couldn't help but stare at the dark contents of his cup and wonder where the blood came from.

"Are you immortal?" She blurted out, instantly clapping a hand to her mouth.

He smiled at her, but it seemed slightly strained. "That is a conversation for another day." He said. Changing the subject, he asked, "How about you show me some of your drawings?"

Humming.

"Mom, are you here?" Kurama called out.

More humming. It was a lullaby.

"Mom?" Kurama said again, this time setting his grocery bag down and walking further into the apartment.

"Mommy's not here, sweetheart," a female voice chuckled.

Kurama set foot in the kitchen of his parents' apartment and stopped short. A tall, slender blond woman sat at a chair at the kitchen table with his human mother unconscious at her feet. The woman was very beautiful. It was a cold beauty that she possessed, and the haughty sneer on her face gave away the fact that she knew exactly how attractive she was.

"Or should I say…she's not able to answer you." She laughed.

Instantly on the alert, Kurama shoved his panic down in his chest and let his intellect take over. "I've seen you before, he said, scrutinizing her features. "You were one of the Chosen." His memory sharpened. "…Weira." He said slowly.

"Why, yes, I was, Yoko Kurama." A self-satisfied smile curled her full lips. "It's been a while since then. Tell me, how has Kerya been?"

Kurama's fists clenched unconsciously as he bit back the angry words trying to force themselves out of his mouth. "What kind of business do you have with me that you might break and enter my mother's home?" He freed his voice from emotion, leaving it cold. Passion wouldn't help him there.

"Oh, this and that," she twisted a lock of the unconscious woman's hair around her finger. "Mostly a favor, though. I want a little information."

"On what, exactly?" His eyes followed her fingers with an intense gaze.

"This girl," Weira held up a photo for him to see, sounding uninterested in the information she had just asked for. "It seems like you were one of the last people to see her before she disappeared." She examined an inch-long golden colored nail, filed to a point. "Her first name is Rio. I forget the rest. She worked at a bar called The Blue Moon. One of the tenders said you were a regular and, well, let's just say I remembered you." She looked up suggestively and gave him a once-over with her eyes.

Kurama looked at the picture of Rio, his mind moving at a tremendous pace. What could this woman possibly want with Rio? It was possibly another clue to solving the riddle. "I saw her a few days ago, yes, but I didn't hear anything about her disappearing."

She knocked the unconscious body of Kurama's mother to the side without a glance. "Lies! She went to you when she was thrown out of her house, wasn't she? Were you lovers? Spare me your fake pity! It's bad enough that my love would ask me, his Weira to find this girl for him!" She spat, seeming slightly hysterical.

Mood swings, Kurama thought as he edged away a bit. "Her parents kicked her out?" Kurama said in genuine surprise.

Weira hissed, taking a step towards Kurama and away from his mother. Instantly, Kurama was behind her, his rose whip ready to lash.

"I suggest you leave," he said dangerously, his eyes half hooded.

She screamed in fury, spinning to face him while simultaneously backing up. "I Know you know something. This can't be coincidence. I'll find out what you're hiding Kurama!" With that, she disappeared.

Kurama rushed forward, cradling his unconscious mother in his arms. "Shiori---Shiori! Mother, you'll be fine, I promise…"

The freezer door opened, letting a gush of cool air out as a hand reached in behind a package of frozen waffles and a freezer-burned package of meat to grab a carton of ice cream. The light that illuminated the dark room flickered off as the door closed with a whoosh.

Hiei's feet made only the softest sounds as he made his way onto the moonlit veranda. The moon shone down, always more mysterious than the sun, listening to the conversation the wind was having with the trees as it rustled softly against the leaves. Once the plastic seal was cracked, Hiei eagerly reached for his spoon. Damn! He thought, instantly annoyed with himself for forgetting a spoon.

"Here," Kurama placed a warm hand on Hiei's shoulder, extending a spoon in the other.

"Hm," Hiei grunted, slight embarrassment rising among his lingering annoyance.

Chuckling softly, Kurama leaned against the railing and looked out over the sleeping forest. "Beautiful," He whispered.

Hiei ignored his comment, digging the spoon into his frozen treat. Kurama was always like this when he was in a thoughtful mood. First came the beauty of nature, then the sigh, then his problem. Even though he had initially disliked his comrade, he and Kurama had become quite close since their first meeting. Kurama knew just what to say to the easily exasperated fire demon when he was in his worse moods. He brought the spoon to his mouth and resisted the temptation to smile. It was sweet.

Kurama sighed dejectedly and rested his head on his forearms for a few moments. "Even this beauty doesn't fill me like before," he said sadly, sighing again.

Get on with it, Hiei tried not to roll his eyes. Speaking around the coolness in his mouth, Hiei commented. "You love plants, Kurama. Don't tell me someone has stolen your heart from Mother Earth?" He almost laughed at the pure absurdity of his words and shoved another loaded spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

Kurama, however, looked as if he'd been slapped across the face, and jerked around to look at Hiei. "What? My…My heart?" He said incredulously.

Hiei scrutinized Kurama. He was acting oddly. Something was not right with him. His face was red, he was short of breath, and a thin sheen of sweat stood out on his face. He gave a forlorn look at his sweet snow before setting it aside and Checking Kurama's temperature. It was well above normal, and his heart was racing.

"You're sick." He muttered, pulling him back inside and forcing him down on the couch. "Stay there, he commanded. "I'll call a physician for you. No objections," he glared, "You could die from a fever like that, demon or not. I'm surprised you're moving."

He slipped out of the room as soon as Kurama slumped back into the couch. Quietly, he slid the carton of ice cream back into the freezer before setting off. After all, melted ice cream was always such a waste.