A/N: You've asked for it and here it is! The sequel to More Wars Than One. I hope you all enjoy this story as much as the first one.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, only the OCs

Ripping; tearing; crunching. Everywhere he turned his ears were assaulted by the sounds of ripping flesh and crunching bone. And the screams; the strangled screams that sounded more ghostly than human. The sounds were everywhere, there was no escape; but they weren't coming from him. No, some other poor soul was going through that hell, but he was too afraid to open his eyes and see who it was that was being torn apart. He could also hear voices; deep and angry, yelling about something but he couldn't make out what it was.

There was one final snap and everything went deathly silent. He cracked an eye open, then the other. He was kneeling in a small stone chamber. Torches lined the circular walls. It was empty apart from the body lying in the middle of the floor. As carefully and quietly as he could, he got to his feet and crept over to the body. He knelt down and turned the body over; his heart dropping into his stomach when he saw the orange mask.

"No," he whispered in horror.

"You did this," came a deep growl.

He looked up to see the ghostly figures of Leonardo, Donatello and Raphael appear before him. They all looked like they had been tortured before they met their demise.

"We trusted you," Donatello spat.

"You were our friend, our brother. How could you betray us like this?" Leonardo asked venomously.

"I would never...This can't be real."

"Can be and is," sounded the hoarse voice of the body below him.

A hand shot up and closed around his throat, choking him. His eyes widened as he saw Michelangelo sit up, his head hanging to one side from a broken neck. His eyes were cold and empty; lifeless.

"You killed us," Michelangelo hissed.

"No. I would never-"

"Murderer!" Michelangelo screeched.

Klunk's eyes shot open, wide with fear. He gasped for breath and looked around. He was in the room he shared with Michelangelo. Above him, Klunk could hear his friend talking in his sleep. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was only a dream, a nightmare; it wasn't real. Klunk lay in bed, listening to Michelangelo's mumbling. It had been a week since they had escaped back to New York from Xarus, and it still felt weird sleeping in a bed instead of on a bed. What felt even weirder was talking and being understood. He had all his memories from when he had been just a simple stray, which were now combined with memories from Xarus; including the false implanted ones.

Klunk lifted up a hand and, in the dim light, could see that it was shaking. The dream had scared him more than he first thought. Klunk rolled over on to his back and stared up at the bottom of the bed above him. Donatello had turned Michelangelo's single bed into bunk beds during the first few days back. He said that Michelangelo and Klunk had always shared a room, so why suddenly split them up now?

Giving up on trying to get back to sleep, Klunk pushed back the blankets and climbed out of bed. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and made his way out of the room. The floor was cold against his bare feet, but it helped wake him up. After the nightmare, Klunk never wanted to sleep again. He looked down into the main area of the living room and noticed that someone was sitting on the couch. Klunk headed downstairs and made his way over to the TV area. As he got closer he could make out the red of a mask.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?" Klunk asked.

Raphael looked up at the cat for a brief second before turning away again. "Not really," he answered. "Too many dreams."

"That seems to be going around, lately," Klunk said, sitting down in Splinter's armchair. "Want to talk?"

Raphael was silent for a few moments before finally speaking. "I feel like I'm missing something," he said. "I don't know what it is, though."

Klunk nodded in understanding. "I know that feeling. There's a hole in your soul that nothing can fill."

"I feel like I should know these brothers, and something inside tells me that I do know them. But then there's the whole being an only child thing," Raphael explained.

"The mind can play tricks on you, making you believe something that isn't true," Klunk told him. "When clouded, the mind becomes unreliable; then all you have left are the feelings that your heart is telling you."

Raphael looked up at him. "Speaking from experience?" he asked.

Klunk looked down at the floor. "Yeah," he answered.

Raphael tilted his head to one side in a quizzing manner. "Who was she?"

Klunk smiled slightly at a distant memory. "Her name was Zaveen. We met before I was drafted into the Xarus High Council's army...or after my memories were altered, I should say. Sometimes a part of me tells me that she was just one of those implanted memories that weren't real; but then I remember the touch of her skin, the gentleness of her voice, and there's no way she was just a figment of my imagination."

"Were you intimate?" Raphael asked.

Klunk's smile was answer enough. Raphael grinned.

"You sly cat," he said.

"They were the best nights of my life," Klunk admitted. "Even though some people would look at us and say, 'A cat and a human? Intimate?'" He shrugged. "So what?" he asked.

"Did something happen between you two? You talk as though she's dead or something," Raphael said.

Klunk shook his head. "No, she's not dead...at least not in the literal sense." He ran a hand over his mouth and he sighed. "We were both drafted into the army, but for different reasons. I was a soldier and she was an interrogator; a torturer." Klunk's eyes became sad. "The kind, gentle, beautiful woman that I loved was turned into the worst kind of monster. We tried to make things work between us, but everything just fell apart. I could no longer sleep with a woman that butchered men for fun. I soon broke it off. It killed me to have to do it, but she had changed too much. She got off on another person's pain, including my own. She would try every trick in the book to make me scream."

Klunk trailed off and looked down at the floor. Raphael swallowed thickly and turned away, feeling his stomach churn.

"Sorry," Raphael apologized. "Didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

"It's okay," Klunk said. "It helps to talk things through. Helps clear things up."

Raphael nodded. "I need a lot of things cleared up."

"Give it time," Klunk told him. "You'll find out the truth someday."

Raphael gave him a half smile. "Well, I'm going to bed," he said. "See you at practice."

Raphael got to his feet and headed for the stairs. Klunk remained sitting, his mind elsewhere. He knew he should go back to bed as well, but he wasn't tired and he was still shaken from the nightmare. He reached up and played with the silver chain that hung around his neck; his mind drifting back to the day when he had received it. The chain had been a gift from Zaveen as a congratulatory present for being placed in a team. That had been before she had been employed as the council's interrogator.

Klunk knew that things never would have been able to work between them. They had changed too much; him for the better, her for the worse. But it still didn't stop the dull ache that throbbed through his heart whenever he thought about Zaveen. She had been his first love; probably his only love. With the memory of Zaveen's smile and laugh playing through his mind, Klunk stood up and made his way back upstairs and into his and Michelangelo's room. He pulled off the jeans and t-shirt and got back into bed. With a heavy heart, Klunk closed his eyes and willed himself back to sleep.

Wherever you are, Zav, I hope you're happy, was his final thought before sleep claimed him.

Reviews are welcome, flames are not