A/N: Thanks for checking me out, guys! I hope you find this story worth your time, and good, bad, or ugly, I ask you to tell me what you think. Kindness and constructive criticism are very much welcome/needed. Enjoy!
PS: This will not be a Turtle/OC romance story. The only pairing is strictly OC/OC.
Chapter One: Of Men and Beasts
She let out a shaky sigh, her breath crystallized and suspended in the air before her. It clouded her features. His eyes did not stray from hers, but the way they narrowed and hardened in the pale light told him all he needed to know about the scowl that fell across her milky face. The baby was still crying, it's shrill wails muffled as its tiny round face was buried in her breast. He could feel her fear- it spanned further than the few feet of thin air that separated them. He took a half step back, half concealing himself from the sharp light of the streetlamp above.
She was frozen, still recovering from the horrors of the night- the creature before her bore an unreadable expression, the contours of its face so shockingly alien. But it's eyes... The way it moved... It's eyes were a luminous amber, still burning with bloodlust as it shifted its massive form back toward the darkness of the alley. The babe quieted, hiccuping into her shirt, her little cheeks no doubt red and raw from tears and the biting cold.
"S-stop..." Her voice was almost lost, the breath sucked out of her lungs by the wicked wind.
It paused, eyes flashing, what could only be described as a surly look crossing the reptilian beak and furrowed eye ridge.
"Thank you..." She murmured, taking a step closer. She extended a gloved hand when it tried to retreat further, "Please! Please, don't leave."
She heard the thugs groaning to life behind her, and cuddled the child closer into the folds of her coat. The beast seemed to hesitate, turned its head toward the darkened alley as though plotting its escape.
"Y' shouldn't be out here so late and alone," the voice was deep and rich- distinctly male. "Get goin' home. Get that baby outta the cold."
She took a step. "I live a long ways from here..."
He backed away, but his hulking shadow was still outlined against the perfect blackness of his backdrop. "Just go. I'll make sure you get there safe."
The woman needed no second bidding, and Raphael took a deep breath. 'She didn't scream,' he groused sardonically. Her eyes had been intense, full of fear, full of intention. He wasn't sure what she had planned when the four brutes had blocked her path. Her posture had immediately changed, the child smothered against her body, her shoulders hunched over it, and her teeth shining in the artificial light. But he had intervened. The men were down, and defender and defendee were left to contemplate one another's existence.
He should have disappeared.
For a little lady, she moved fast, and he kept an easy, gliding pace to follow her. Her eyes kept wandering, trying to find him in the gloom. The streets in this part of town were empty. The baby had hiccuped itself to sleep, he supposed, for it was quiet and still in her arms.
"My name's Kate." Was it appropriate to make conversation with the reptile man?
"I don't need to know your name."
She fell silent. The distance seemed greater in the dark than it actually was, and before long her hand was on the frosty doorknob of her apartment complex. She didn't look for him, knew it was futile, but tried to reach out and find his presence somewhere in the blackness. He was still out there somewhere, watching with his burning eyes.
"Thank you," she called to the darkness. "If you ever..." He wouldn't accept her invitation. "I owe you one."
Raphael watched her slide into the warm building, feeling the numbness in his toes on the cold rooftop. He buried his hands in the pockets of his trencher, saw a light on the third floor come on, and caught a glimpse of the woman's silhouette as she put the baby down and drew the thick curtains over the window.
"Find yourself a girlfriend, Raph?"
He took a sideways glance as his brother emerged from the shadows. Donatello was bone weary, his brow pinched in a mix of worry and bemusement. Raph snorted.
"Not hardly. Married blondes aren't quite my type, bro. Did you see the metal on her finger? I could have four gold teeth."
It was an exaggeration.
"We'll need to keep an eye on her," Don muttered, noting the location of her apartment, "she's likely going to tell her husband, and that'll be less than fantastic."
Kate Bourne closed and latched the heavy apartment door quickly, rested her back against it for a brief moment to calm her wildly beating heart. Her knees trembled. She stood up again, little Helena deadweight in her tired arms. She laid infant on the couch for a moment to pull the curtains to.
She hadn't meant to be out so late, especially with the girl. They were late leaving the park, had been seriously enticed by the puppies in a store window, and service at the restaurant was slow... The girl still had to be changed into her pajamas and put to bed- she would be cranky in the morning. With a mother's efficiency she floated about the tiny living room, gathering toys, blankets, dishes from their lonely lunch. A pang tore at her heart. John wouldn't be home for another week. Dishes in the sink, toys in a basket, baby in her arms- to be changed and put to bed, she felt the wet diaper, changed and put to bed.
"Little blond curls, little bunny footsies," she sang in a soft voice, the disturbed infant crinkling her chubby features in a frown. "Dreaming of a race car daddy, a little southern mommy... Won't you sleep at peace tonight?"
Helena was tucked in, warm in the little corner of the bedroom. The dishes needed attention, as with the kitchen table, the floors needed mopping. She pushed the attack from her mind, trying to forget the hungry looks and the reek of booze. She scrubbed the dishes angrily. 'Helpless, helpless, Lord knows what they'd have done...'
The kitchen was spotless. Kate eased herself into the couch, her back aching, her stomach churning. If she had to stand again in the next couple minutes she would give out. Her breathing deepened, she buried her face in her knees, trembled with anxiety. She'd seen the flash of a knife, had heard the lewd snarls. 'The reptile man...' She had forgotten... She rushed to the window and tore the curtains aside. There was nothing, just the empty rooftops. She trudged back to the couch. His skin had shone emerald green in the lamplight, his hands large and heavy. His body was bulky, but hidden by a long trench coat. His feet were bare.
He had saved her.
She couldn't fight it anymore, the tears burst, and she sobbed breathlessly. The loneliness, the stress, the memory of the men, the shock of the beast... She sobbed and hiccuped, tears and snot running down her face. Prayer after silent prayer passed through her mind, her head shaking and body trembling.
The phone rang.
She grabbed the vibrating object, stared with bleary eyes at the unfamiliar number on the screen. She swallowed. A long distance number.
"H-hello?"
"Hey sweetie," a wave of relief, she breathed a muffled sob. "Oh God, what's wrong? Is it Lena? Kate... What's going on?"
The voice had gone from exhausted to alert in a heartbeat.
"I want you home," she sobbed. "I just want you home..."
They both knew she was leaving something crucial out. He had long since learned that the withheld information would not come easy.
"Easy, easy... I'll be back Friday. It'll be alright, Kate. I'm coming home, I'll be fine. Don't cry, Kate..."
It was three in the morning in London. Why was he up?
"I miss you, beautiful," his voice... Oh bless his heart, he sounded as torn as she did. "I just wanted to tell you I loved you- I'd hoped you were up... Give Lena a kiss for me," he was stuttering horribly, a childhood habit that never relinquished its hold. "I love you so much..."
There was no stuttering there. She wiped her tears, the light catching the gold band on her finger.
"I love you too..." A sniffle on the other end, disguised as a cough. Kate smiled. "Get to bed, Love. Be safe tomorrow."
He was hesitant, but was coaxed into hanging up. Kate shut out every light, and in the darkness traced her way to their bedroom. Helena slept soundly in her crib. The young mother pulled aside the blankets, still in her day clothes- minus the jacket and scarf and gloves and hat and boots (they all rested on the couch, and she loathed the thought of putting them away tonight)- and felt for the small, familiar bundle. The gloves were his first pair. He wore them racing go karts, a dashing little kindergartener. The leather of the palms was stiff, cracking with age. He'd given them to her when they were still high school sweethearts... He an ambitious young racer... She a sweet girl with a wild heart...
She drifted to sleep with his scent in her nose- the soft, warm, musky, odor... Reptilian beasts and dirty men did a dangerous tango through her dreams... Racing cars sped by on a child's playset... The night was long and restless.