Most things break, including hearts.

The lessons of life amount not to wisdom,

but to scar tissue and callus.

– Wallace Stegner

Wounds and Balloons

Pain registered first, then warmth, a soft weight at his head and torso. Fresh coffee and clean linens, cooking smells nearly covering the stench of alcohol. A woman's voice, feather-fingers pressing to his neck, combing his bangs back. Brown hair, a knowing look – one he'd seen a million times.

Mom?

The ache in his jaw drew him into waking. Yusuke's eyes fluttered against the dim light and he groaned, raising a hand only to stop short. Something wasn't right, though for the life of him, he didn't know what. He blinked at the plank ceiling, trying to make sense of fuzzy thoughts, the anger curdling his gut. Why couldn't he focus? Counting didn't work; breathing exercises only made it worse. Then again, what did he have to worry about? As long as Kurama was here, everything would be–

He stopped short, eyes widening to take in the ceiling once more, a warmth both familiar and foreign. Only then did he see the blanket tucked around him, the bed and clean room. This couldn't be right. Where was the stone cell, the shackles, the soldiers?

The three men who should be with him?

Slowly, he sat up, gritting his teeth as the world spun and his weight shifted to his hands. Fire laced his jaw once more and he hissed, lightly touching inflamed skin. He fought to remember: Hiei's heat, Kurama's prediction; screams as someone took Kuwabara from his cell. They were in trouble.

He had to find them.

Feet dropping to the floor, Yusuke stood only to stop short, lightning racing up his legs. Only when he fell back onto the mattress did he see bandages wrapped around throbbing wrists and ankles, white dyed red after the shape of his former restraints. Toes curling against plush carpet, his second attempt at standing worked and he silently congratulating himself, raising one foot for an experimental step.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

He froze at the voice, world tilting as he spun around. Colors he didn't have names for tinted his vision and he gagged, catching himself on the bed. Saliva crested his lips, bile playing patty-cake with his throat – a game he'd lose if he wasn't careful.

Once he trusted himself not to puke, Yusuke looked up to see none other than Maes Hughes in the doorway. Blue uniform replaced with slacks and a thick sweater, the Lieutenant Colonel appeared perfectly at home leaning against dark wood, hands hidden in either pocket, mouth marred by a frown.

Teeth flashing, Yusuke glared as he willed strength into his legs and wiped at his mouth. Anger flared anew, mingling with a slew of other emotions tightening his chest. Legs sliding into a ready stance amidst protesting ankles, he raised both fists. Insurgence, separation:

Executed.

Kurama's words emerged from the fog like phantoms, planting butterfly kisses on his brain. Years ago, this would have been enough to send him over the edge, to shoot first and ask questions later. But he'd saved the world more times than he could count; been lord of Tourrin, upended centuries of tradition in Demon World so they could have a single ruler. Controlling his temper was easy compared to all that.

Or at least, it should have been. "Where are they?"

Rage tickled his tongue, sharp and cold. Hiei would be proud.

"I'm impressed, we thought you would be out until tomorrow." Hughes ignored his question, tone light though his frown remained. "How are you feeling?"

Two could play that game. Yusuke tucked his chin despite his throbbing jaw, knees bending unconsciously. "I said: Where. Are. They?"

Hughes paused, taking in the ogreish scowl and too-tight fists, the noticeable quiver in his legs. A sigh and the officer forced himself to relax further, slowly retracting his hands from his pockets. "Your friends are safe – you all are."

Yusuke wrinkled his nose, focusing on the man rather than his muddied thoughts, the gray dotting his vision. "I don't believe you."

"Why would I lie to you, Yusuke?"

A snort. "'cause that's all any of you've done since we got here."

Hughes fell silent, seeing all the things Yusuke didn't want him to: the trembling limbs and quick, heavy breaths, warm blood finally soaking through the bandages to creep down his feet. Sleep, he just wanted to sleep–

But that wasn't an option.

"We did everything your boss asked, and for what?!" Yusuke flashed his teeth, gaze hardening further. Kurama's prediction was still too fresh, Kuwabara's screams pounding in his head. "If they're hurt, I swear I'll–"

"Like I said, you're all safe." Hughes stepped into the room, heedless of his murderous glare. "The Fuhrer's released you into protective custody: all four of you have been assigned a guardian to protect you from bigots and enemies of the State."

Yusuke blinked, confusion overtaking hostility. "Guardian?"

"That's right." Another step, frown fading. "You've officially been in my care since yesterday morning."

"Hold up, I don't need a babysitter!"

Hughes stopped just outside of his reach, raising a brow. "You sure about that? Not sure if you've looked in a mirror lately but you look terrible."

"And whose fault is that?" Anger overrode logic, fueling his screams. "If you dickheads had left us alone, we wouldn't be in this mess!"

"If we left you alone, you'd be dead. Or did none of you realize you were heading into a snowfield?"

A frustrated huff that sounded like a growl. Heart pounding in his ears, Yusuke heard stinted breaths, felt sweat tickling his spine. Dangling at the point of no return – the magical place where reason didn't matter – yet he couldn't find the strength to pull himself back. He wanted nothing more than to break those stupid glasses, to turn that face into hamburger meat.

He needed to–

"Maes, is everything alright?"

Emotions flashed across Hughes' eyes, almost too quick for him to catch. Love and fear, two sides of the same coin. A dangerous combo:

One he knew all too well.

The officer maintained his position between Yusuke and the door but he saw her anyway. Still occupied with wiping her hands on an apron, the woman didn't look up until Hughes shifted to block her view:

A plan quickly foiled by a stern voice.

"What are you doing out of bed?"

Hughes glanced back at her approaching steps, daring a warning. "Gracia–"

But he wilted at her look, moving aside. Yusuke blinked, caught between the woman and the Lieutenant Colonel giving him the side-eye. She was a bit taller than Keiko, though not by much. A kind face and ash-blonde hair, well-worn clothes, the soft plumpness that comes with age; green eyes–

He'd never seen eyes like that on anyone but Kurama.

All gentleness fled as she drew near, gaze darting to his bandages. "Sit down."

Yusuke barely noticed Hughes place a hand on her arm. "Honey, why don't you let me handle this?"

But she shook off his hand, face hardening further. "I said, sit down."

The boy snorted, lifting his chin. Yet when he met her glare, the retort died in his throat. He'd seen that look too many times, first from his mother, then Keiko and Genkai. Even though he wanted to fight – knew he could win – something stopped him, something he couldn't explain. So, he did the only thing he could do.

He complied.

Gracia didn't acknowledge his pout as she drew closer, Hughes close behind. Though the officer couldn't suppress his shock, he remained on-guard, hand at his belt as she knelt before the bed.

"May I see your arm?"

Yusuke didn't move, fists resting atop his thighs. "Why, you a doctor or something?"

"A nurse, actually. I've been taking care of you since you arrived." Her frown deepened as she took in the tainted wrappings, the red streak at his heel. "You reopened your wounds . . ."

He fidgeted, nose wrinkling at the concern in her voice. "It's not a big deal, don't worry about it."

But she took his hand even as he spoke, skin incomparably soft against his scars and calluses. Reaching into an apron pocket, Gracia produced a small pair of scissors, turning his wrist until the cleanest stretch of bandages were visible.

"Hold still."

He obeyed, watching as cool metal slid between his flesh and stiffened cotton. She took her time, first cutting through the wrappings, then peeling them away with the utmost care. Somehow, this seemed to hurt more than having his face pounded but he bore it, teeth clenching when gauze pulled at filleted flesh.

Blood coating her fingertips, Gracia slowly turned his wrist this way and that, frown deepening all the while. Didn't she know he'd heal on his own? This was so stupid; a waste of time.

"Don't move; I'll be right back."

Yusuke opened his mouth but shut it again at her stern look, turning his head away. Rustling skirts, soft steps fading to some other part of the apartment but he didn't move, staring at the angry, weeping wound. Sighing, he didn't bother keeping an eye on Hughes, fighting the pain setting his brain on fire. He had to get out of here; he had to find the others before it was too late–

"Daddy?"

Hughes blanched at the voice though Yusuke didn't notice, gaze traveling once more to the door. A little girl stood between him and freedom, a child with sleep-tousled hair and a bleary stare. Rubbing at her eyes, she yawned, teddy bear clutched in one hand. A pale nightgown, light framing hair the same shade as the woman's . . . She looked like an angel.

Something that shouldn't be anywhere near him.

"Elicia!" The officer donned a perfect smile, turning to kneel before her. "You're supposed to be in bed."

"I heard yelling." She hugged his neck, nuzzling into his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Everything's fine, sweetie." Hughes wrapped an arm around her but kept Yusuke in his line of sight, kissing her cheek. "Do you want Mommy to read you another story?"

"Mm hm." Only when she pulled back did Elicia see the stranger on the bed, eyes widening before her face lit with a smile. "You're finally awake!" All hints of sleepiness gone, she gripped her father's sleeve, pointing. "Daddy, that's him, right? My new big brother?"

"That's right!" Yusuke couldn't imagine the look on his face as Hughes stood, scooping up the girl before turning his way. "Yusuke, this is my daughter, Elicia Hughes." Her smile grew, teddy bear hugged to her chest. "Elicia, this is Yusuke Urameshi – he'll be staying with us for a while."

She leaned over, whispering into father's ear. Hughes surprised Yusuke by setting her down, nodding in his direction. He didn't miss the look the officer shot him, a warning.

He'd worn that same expression too many times.

Elicia drew near with slow steps, the toy still held between them. He couldn't guess what she wanted. Was this another ploy by the government? If Hughes thought he wouldn't mow through a kid, he had another thing coming. So what if she had frizzy hair and freckles, and big, stupid, trusting eyes? He needed to find the others, then track down Yukina so they could all go–

"You've got a funny name."

Yusuke blinked, staring at her. She stated the truth without shame, with a bluntness most children forget as they grew up. He saw no deceit as she studied him, bear falling to her side once more. So he did the only thing he could do in the face of innocence–

He laughed.

"Yeah? Well, yours is pretty weird, too."

"No it's not." She blinked, head tilting. "Lots of girls have my name."

"Guess you got me there." He smirked and pushed back his bangs. "Mine's pretty common where I'm from, too."

Elicia's gaze widened, focused on his wrist. "Oh no! You've got an owie!"

Brow arching, he glanced at the shredded flesh, the freshly dried blood on his arm. Funny; she'd almost made him forget his injuries. "Don't worry about it. Your mom should be back any minute to–"

But the girl grabbed his hand gently, pressing his palm to her lips. Hughes looked as surprised as he though neither moved, both entranced by Elicia.

She smiled up at Yusuke, releasing him. "When I get hurt, Mommy kisses my owies. She says it makes them all better. Does you mommy do that, too?"

Memories of childhood injuries came unbidden: bicycle accidents, schoolyard scuffles, bouts with his mom's ex-boyfriends. Yet in most, Atsuko Urameshi was either absent or drunk out of her mind. Of course, she never took a man's side once he touched her son – she had her priorities right there, at least. But she'd never been 'maternal', not like so the other moms he knew. She didn't pack lunches and check his homework, nor did she bandage his bruises or baby him. No, her love was different; tough. She went after the parents when they came to her with their sniveling children, knowing he wouldn't start a fight himself. She threw the bums out the first time they laid a hand on him, taught him the basics of cooking and first aid in grade school. She wanted him to be independent, to not have to take any crap from anyone:

She wanted him to be able to take care of himself.

"Yeah," He smiled, ruffling her hair with the same hand. "She did."

Emotion welled in Hughes' eyes but Yusuke's attention was focused on Elicia. "Does it hurt?"

Yusuke paused, not understanding what she meant until he saw her staring at his wrist. Honestly, it was more than a kid her age should see but she faced it head-on. She had guts, he'd give her that much.

"Nah. You made it better, remember?"

She smiled again, the biggest, brightest smile he'd ever seen.

"Elicia!" Gracia's voice heralded her return, bearing a basket packed with medical supplies.

"Mommy!" The child abandoned him immediately, dashing to her mother only to grip the woman's skirt, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I got to meet Yusuke! Daddy said he's my new big brother!"

A smile forced at the edges, silently searching her daughter for the slightest hint of injury. "You did?"

"Mm hm! And I kissed his owie, so he's all better now!"

For his part, Yusuke refused to look at them, staring pointedly at the wall. What was wrong with him? Screwing around with a kid instead of escaping; forgetting the others, his situation, even if only for a moment? Even he wasn't that stupid. At least, not usually. There was still time. If he could take down Hughes, he could bust out of here and go–

Where?

Anxiety pricked his gut as reality came crashing down, skin breaking into a cold sweat. He didn't have a clue where he was, much less the others. Separated; they were separated and with his crappy senses, he didn't have a snowball's chance of finding them.

He was trapped, just like back in that cell.

"Yusuke?"

A soft voice near his ear and he jumped, fists raised. Gracia blinked from where she knelt before him, hands folded in her lap. Heat rose in his cheeks when he saw the basket at her side, the way Elicia stared from her father's arms. He'd almost decked the woman for no reason.

Gracia smiled as he lowered his fists, noting his refusal to look at her. "Maes, will you tuck Elicia back in, please?"

"Sure, honey." Hughes hesitated in the doorway, however, unwilling to leave. "Do you need anything?"

Of course he wouldn't want to leave his wife alone. Why would he with Yusuke acting like a wild dog?

"We'll be fine." Rather than turn to face her spouse, Gracia winked at Yusuke, adding to the guilt weighing his chest. "Won't we?"

A grunt was all he could manage, ears growing hot under three sets of eyes.

"Alright, I'll be down the hall if you need me." Hughes acquiesced, adjusting his hold on Elicia. "Say goodnight, sweetheart."

Elicia opened her mouth to speak but a yawn slipped out, drowsiness setting in. "Goodnight Mommy, goodnight Yusuke."

"Goodnight." Gracia blew her a kiss.

"'night." Yusuke smiled at the girl, watching her wave until she disappeared from sight.

The ride home was surprisingly uneventful. The Colonel approved a car and driver for them – a skilled and loyal soldier – yet Hiei showed no signs of resistance.

Unexpected, given the incidents with Urameshi and Kuwabara.

Neither he nor Minamino spoke after Hughes carried Yusuke from his cell, the blood dripping from the boy's hands and feet marking a path to the door. Hiei remained silent when his time came, obeying her commands without emotion. While the extraction order had been agreed upon beforehand, removing the Ishvalan remained the most difficult part of the planning process. After all, the only full-proof method they'd found for containing him was leveraging his friends. Thus leaving the weakest of their group for last – Minamino.

She wasn't proud of stooping to such levels.

Hawkeye bit back a sigh, glancing across the backseat. Hiei watched the passing scenery, hands in his lap. Offered coat laying between them, she couldn't help wondering if he was cold; then again, ordering the boy to wear it would only complicate things. The sight of him made her shiver: naked save for the remnant of his trousers, frayed fabric held together by his belts. Bare feet pressed flat to the floor, tension rang through his body though he hid it with lax posture, a trick that would fool most but not her.

Fighting her would be pointless, especially since he could not find his companions easily. He was intelligent enough to know she had no reason to hurt him. So why did he seem almost . . . nervous? Where was the fortitude with which he faced Colonel Mustang, the unwavering stoicism that frustrated Major Armstrong?

An unexpected bump as they rounded a curve and for just a moment, she saw his eyes widen, jaw clenching, fingernails digging into his leg. The shift happened in a matter of seconds, easily missed if she blinked. Yet Hawkeye saw everything, including Hiei turn for a better look out the window, palm shifting to cover the angry marks on his thigh. She could only come up with one explanation, one so ridiculous it was laughable.

Surely the boy immune to fire couldn't be afraid of automobiles.

Did he react this way when the Colonel's truck drove him back to base? Such a fear made no sense. Cars were common in Xing; surely he'd seen them before.

Her heart softened as she remembered his hesitance in entering the vehicle. Even now, he sat as close to the window as possible. What if this wasn't from disgust but fear, as if leaping out could save him during an accident? Minamino said Hiei came from a remote village – a village in the mountains would have no use for such technology.

He did not react when they slowed to a stop, nor when the engine died. Only when she lifted the coat did he glance her way, twin currants darker than when they began their journey.

"Here, put this on." His eyes narrowed, offering her the same look from what seemed a lifetime ago in the forest. "There are people outside going about their business: while you may not care about your appearance, they do not want to see your body." He didn't move, attention focused on her. "Going into public in your state would disgrace the entire military. Do you truly wish to do that?"

Those eyes darkened further, setting the hairs at her nape on-end though she didn't back down. Hiei didn't move, glaring for several seconds before his gaze fell to the coat, her coat. Black and tailored for her body, the garment was far too big for him. Not that it mattered, they just needed to get inside her apartment.

And for that, he needed to be clothed.

Finally, he retrieved the coat, slowly sliding his arms first through one sleeve, then the other. He didn't bother with the buttons because it wasn't necessary – the lapels embraced his chest easily. Pushing too-long sleeves up his forearms, the boy looked to her once more, cold hostility replaced with a question.

Hawkeye nodded as the driver appeared at Hiei's door, silhouette dark against the frosted glass. "We need to cross the street." She motioned to his feet, still rooted to the floor. "Will you be alright for that long?"

He snorted, eyes rolling as the door opened. She followed him out, silently relieved at his choice not to run or, worse, attack her and the driver. A word of thanks and a salute sent the man on his way, car soon blending with the traffic on the busy road.

Suppressing a shiver, she glanced at her charge. Hiei stuck out like a sore thumb: coat hem slapping his ankles, he took in his surroundings with little emotion, uncaring of the snow between his toes, the passerby who shrank from his gaze. Wounds from the war remained unhealed and with the emergence of the Alchemist Killer Scar, public prejudice was on the rise:

No Ishvalan was safe in Amestris.

A lull in traffic though she noticed no one attempted to cross, instead giving them a wide berth. Just as well – the last thing she wanted was an altercation. "This way."

He followed her across the icy road. Unlike its neighbors, her apartment building was old, constructed of wood rather than brick. Though not shabby by any means – the building underwent regular maintenance and received a coat of paint annually – rent was cheaper because of the structure's age. Living in a less than desirable neighborhood effected the price too but such things didn't bother her.

Not when Central could transfer their unit at any time.

Hawkeye saw Hiei in before shutting the door to the street, shaking snow off her boots. His steps remained silent as he followed her up the stairs, the heat radiating from his body the only indication he was still there. Watchful yet unafraid, she led the way to her apartment, stopping before the door marked 16.

"We'll only be here a moment, then we're going to buy you new clothes." She retrieved a key ring from her pocket, shifting aside several before settling on a well-worn key. "You can't stay in those rags."

No response; not that she expected one. The boy didn't seem to place value on material things.

The lock surrendered easily and she motioned him in. A simple apartment with an open floor plan, broken by two bed rooms and a small bathroom. No art adorned the walls, fireplace glowing with the blaze set an hour before. A matching sofa and chair set, kitchen table set for two, matching teacups nestled together on the counter. Red eyes took in their surroundings quickly, though she couldn't hope to know his thoughts. Did Hiei appreciate her efforts at hospitality? Did he care? She wasn't used to company, much less sharing her living quarters.

She'd never cared for a child before.

A dark blur darted from her bedroom and Hawkeye realized her folly nearly too late. Pushing Hiei back without warning, she thrust out her arm, catching and repelling a furry chest. The adolescent dog fell before scrambling to his feet, hackles raised, lips pulled back in a rumbling snarl.

"Black Hayate!"

The dog's ears perked at her voice, growl dying when she snapped her fingers twice. Hand raised, the Lieutenant bent her wrist slowly until her palm faced the floor, maintaining her neutral expression until Black Hayate sat down.

"Good boy." The barest thump of a tail but black eyes rested still on her charge, distrust wrinkling his white muzzle.

"Sorry, I should introduce you two." She turned, noting the boy's defensive stance, his owlish stare as he took in her pet. "Black Hayate, this is Hiei; Hiei, meet Black Hayate."

Neither moved, though she knew her dog wouldn't. She had not given the command, yet.

"I received Black Hayate several months ago. Although his training is not complete, I trust the two of you will get along." She reached for the boy. "Give me your hand."

Immediately Hiei's gaze narrowed and he stiffened, arms anchored at either side.

"Black Hayate's duty is to protect this place and everything in it." She knelt beside the dog, petting him though her hand remained outstretched. "Since you will be living here, he needs to become accustomed to your presence and scent. The sooner he realizes you belong here, the faster you two will get along."

For a moment, she didn't think he would relent, red gaze smoldering. Hiei stepped forward without a word, giving her hand a wide berth and stopping before the dog. Black Hayate stared up at him unblinkingly, something between a whine and a growl caught low in his chest.

Hawkeye watched as Hiei slowly lifted his arm, not stopping until his fingers hung before the dog's face. Nostrils flaring, Black Hayate sniffed the air tentatively, breath fanning the boy's skin, nose brushing the edge his master's coat cuff. One sniff followed another, pressing harder against the fabric until finally, Black Hayate opened his mouth–

And dragged his tongue across Hiei's palm.

Hawkeye released a breath she didn't know she'd held, stroking between Black Hayate's neck. Hiei seemed unimpressed, watching the dog bathe his scarred flesh. "Try petting him."

He complied, free hand moving to rest atop Black Hayate's head. Gentle ministrations, rubbing the soft fur between his ears, all while the dog licked his hand. Hope for the boy swelled in her chest, manifesting in a smile.

Who could have guessed Hiei would be good with animals?

"I'll grab something for you wear – you must be freezing."

She rose though the boy didn't respond, attention fixed on Black Hayate, the black head leaning heavily into his hand. Disappearing into her bedroom, Hawkeye fished a sweater and breeches from her closet, both well-worn and black. She hoped Hiei didn't mind the color; her wardrobe consisted of little else.

A strange sound gave her pause. Hawkeye hurried out only to find Hiei exactly where she left him, Black Hayate sprawled at his feet, wriggling on his back with excited yips. The boy watched him dispassionately, though his face held neither confusion nor disgust. Rather, he accepted the affection for what it was, knowing the dog expected nothing in return.

Warmth spreading in her chest, she approached Hiei. He didn't look up even when she stopped at his side, extending her offering.

"These are for you. We'll be leaving soon, so go ahead and change – your room is on the left."

Red fell to her hands, studying the bundle for a moment before he accepted it. Careful of Black Hayate's dance, Hiei withdrew, the 'click' of the bedroom door the only sound signaling his absence.

Anxiety pricked her gut as first five minutes passed, then ten. She didn't want to invade his privacy but getting dressed shouldn't take this long. There was only one window in his room and though it was small, he may be able to squeeze through it. What if he tried to escape, despite his friends being at the military's mercy? Surely he wouldn't attempt rescuing them alone. Flashes of their meeting came unbidden, his speed and strange flames, the intention – no, the ability – to kill Colonel Mustang without remorse. Such was why her associates feared the boy.

A fear she wished to prove unfounded.

What if he was injured? The hospital cleared him for release immediately after capture, but he wasn't exactly cooperative with the nurses, either. A week spent nearly naked in a dank prison cell, refusing even the basic necessities from his captors. Major Armstrong did say the boy hadn't eaten during that time, and only drank a few sips of water. What if he'd collapsed in his room?

"Hiei?" Hawkeye approached the door, knocking. "Is everything all right?"

No response.

She furrowed her brow, one hand closing around the brass knob, the other brushing the gun at her hip. "I'm coming in."

Silence greeted Hawkeye as she stepped into the semi-darkness, room illuminated only by the weak sunlight streaming from the window near the ceiling. A desk and wardrobe, a bookcase brimming with books; a four poster bed tucked into the corner, built for a man and not a boy. She'd tried to include anything he may need or find interest in: volumes in both Amestrian and Xingese, a handful of miniature models ranging from horses to cars and tanks; a chest for keeping precious things, bed sheets with smoking trains running across them. She didn't know what to get him, hoped he would understand.

Only he wasn't looking at any of those things.

Dirty feet sinking into a plush rug beside the bed, Hiei stared at a last minute addition, clothes still gripped in one hand. Balloons of various colors floated in the air, each attached to a single post by string, each noticeably different from its companions. Bright and round, small and dark, a handful even twisted into shapes resembling animals. The boy watched these unblinkingly, impossibly still, as though afraid to touch them.

"Do you like them?" He glanced her way as she stepped further into the room, hands falling at her sides. "Balloons are becoming popular, so I thought you might want some."

Frowning, Hiei shifted his attention back to the latex creations, gaze fixed on the twisted shapes. Veiled curiosity, a mask of boredom she could only see through having worked with Mustang all these years. Itching fingers, the slightest quickening of breaths.

Had he never seen balloons before?

"Amazing isn't it? How latex and air can make something so beautiful?" Hawkeye stopped at the foot of the bed, touching the balloons, making them sway. "Some enjoy twisting them into shapes like animals, though they'll pop if you're not careful." His eyes followed her finger, pointing to each in turn. "See? This one's a dog, this one a snake, this one a giraffe." She smiled, watching as surprise flickered in his gaze. "I wasn't sure which ones you would like, so I bought them all."

Suspicion crept in once more, furrowing his brow.

"They're a welcome gift, so you can do whatever you'd like with them." Hawkeye offered the hint of a smile before turning, making for the door. "We will be eating lunch while we're out, so hurry and get dressed. I know you're hungry."

Even if he chose to speak with her, nothing Hiei could say would dissuade Hawkeye of the obvious. Hollowed cheeks and a rib cage pressing against skin, skeletal hands, the horrors of starvation interrupted only by sporadic muscle. She could count every vertebrae along his spine if she wished, countless scars blending with skin made pale through malnutrition. He would never know a day without food again.

Not even if she had to force him to eat.