Leonardo could drive the van, but Donatello wouldn't let him. He didn't want his older brother altering any of the settings. At least, that's what he said. Leonardo understood, but that didn't make hours in silence in the van any less awkward.
The van weaved up the mountain road. As the incline steepened, Donatello shifted the van into the next gear without so much as a glance at the clutch. The turtle in purple's eyes were trained on the road behind his glasses, and the wheel slid slowly beneath his dexterous hands as he turned it with the curve of the mountain. Leonardo kept his eyes on the road, which seemed to stretch on endlessly into the night.
The eldest turtle's fingers curled in his lap. He knew he could drive the damn van. That wasn't the issue. The issue was that his brother still didn't trust him. And neither did their father. If he had, he might have dismissed Donatello's protests.
It had been months since that night in Manhattan, and his family still did not trust him.
He had spent days in the hashi. Weeks in solitary meditation. And now that months had passed, Splinter had decided Leonardo was to go on a retreat in the Adirondacks. The mountains were only four hours north of New York City, but it felt like an eternity, sitting next to his brother in silence.
"So. Don. What…whatcha thinkin' about?" Leonardo ventured.
Donatello swallowed, his fingers tightening around the wheel. "Colony collapse disorder."
"Oh," the eldest turtle said, flatly, waiting for a response from his brother that never came. Donatello could have easily explained…whatever colony collapse was, but he didn't. He just kept driving.
Leonardo tried not to sigh. He had brought this on himself. He was the one that had betrayed his family. He was the one who had allowed himself to be compromised by Karai. The eldest turtle turned away from his brother to look out the passenger side window. The treeline was only becoming denser, and darker before his eyes. He tried not to think about her.
When Karai came to mind, beautiful and sharp as the short sword she wielded, he took a deep breath. He meditated. When his thoughts strayed to her lips, or her eyes, or the heat of her skin beneath his hands, he disconnected. He disengaged. He tried to decompress. It got easier, over time. But sometimes, he still dreamed of her.
The moon hung over the mountain, almost full and entirely brilliant. They could actually see the stars. It was only then that Leonardo realized how far from home they were. It was so quiet here. No trains rattling above them, no honking cars, no one screaming, or crying, or puking in the gutter. Instead, the van just rattled over the road as Donatello drove.
Time passed. The moon rose. Neither of them spoke.
Donatello pulled the van off the winding road and shut off the engine. He glanced to his brother. "I'll see you in a few days."
Leonardo shouldered his pack and closed the door behind him, his gaze resting on the forest. Just as he was about to step away from the van, he heard the window rolling down. The turtle glanced over his shoulder to see that Donatello was holding something in his hand.
"I almost forgot - your phone," the turtle in purple explained, as his glasses slid down his nose. "In case, you know, we need to find you." He tossed the phone to his older brother, who caught it effortlessly.
"Ok, uh, see you later Leo," Donatello stammered.
Leonardo turned the phone over. The engine of the van roared to life. The phone, newly equipped with state of the art tracking device, courtesy of his genius brother, felt so foreign in his hand. Splinter had revoked it after that night in Manhattan. By the time Leonardo looked up again, he could barely see the outline of the van as it made its way down the mountain in the dark. He was going to tell Donatello to have a safe trip back home, but his brother was already gone.
Leonardo disappeared into the trees.
He ran under the light of the moon, gaining speed as he made his way up the mountain. He ran under the night sky, parting the branches of the trees before him. Though there was no one here to hear him, he took care not to make a sound. A ninja was nothing if not silent.
The turtle set his pack on the ground in a clearing. Miles from the main road, up a steep slope, this place seemed secluded enough. Autumn descended across the mountain with a quiet rush of cool air, whispering amongst the the boughs of the evergreens. Just beyond the line of trees, a lake shimmered in the moonlight.
As he brushed the dust from his hands, his fingers stopped at his handguards. His lips pressed together. It was too much. His hand guards, his shoulder pads, his bamboo chest plate. He peeled away the wrappings that held his wrist and hand guards in place; lifted the leather strap that crossed his chest over his head, and conscientiously removed his bamboo armor, careful not to let it twist and tangle. He unlaced the pads that strained around the thick of his thighs. When he was done, he folded his things, and fastidiously packed them away in his knapsack. He would not need them here. All the same, he left his blue mask, and his loincloth. There was no need to be indecent.
Leonardo folded himself into lotus pose. He closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. As his mind and body settled, he exhaled, allowing his breathing to become rhythmic. The sensation of his breath entering his body, then leaving his body became the initial object of his meditation. Here, now, nothing else mattered. Nothing but being.
The beginning of his meditation was interrupted by the buzz of the phone he had neglected to remove when he undressed himself. The vibration ran up his side; he could feel it in his shell. The turtle sighed, exasperated with himself. Why did I leave it on? Should've turned it off. He withdrew it from one of his pockets. I'm sure the tracking device works either way. A message from an unknown number flashed on screen.
"Where are you"
Leonardo frowned. He had been here for only a few hours and he was already distracted. Slowly, his brow ridge creased in confusion. No one had his number but his brothers, and April. On an impulse, he plugged the unknown number in. Maybe it was because he needed to know. Or maybe it was because he was lonely. His brothers had shared few words for him in these last few months, and his father might as well have been completely silent. Donatello's parting words were the closest he had come to an actual conversation in recent memory. Leonardo took a breath and hit dial.
The other line picked up immediately, but no one answered.
"Hello. You should know you have the wrong number," Leonardo said, trying his best to sound polite. "Hello?"
When he received no response but silence, his stomach turned. "…Karai?"
Silence.
He shook his head at his own stupidity. How would she have his number? The brief spark of hope inside him went out, stifled by logic, and reason, and worst of all - reality. He sighed. It was for the best.
"You have the wrong number," he repeated, his voice low. "Good night."
He shut his phone off after that.
Leonardo repositioned himself on the ground, crossing his legs over one another. Laying his hands open on his knees, the turtle closed his eyes. He would meditate tonight if it killed him.
The sun was setting when he awoke the next day. The dying light spilled across the mountain, coloring the trees blood red. While many trees that lined the mountainside were evergreen, there was a streak of trees that were beginning to change, their green leaves fading to yellow, and blossoming red. Hadn't it just been summer? Leonardo's lips pressed together into an expression that was not quite a frown. That was just how life was, he supposed. Just when he wasn't looking, everything went and changed.
Summer had turned to fall. Leonardo took up the lotus position. Change was the only constant. If he was going to lead his brothers, he too must change. The time for mourning the past was over. He closed his eyes, and darkness fell.
A tree branch cracked behind him, breaking Leonardo's meditation. One eye snapped open, but he kept his breathing steady.
"I know you're there," Leonardo said, trying to project confidence. In truth, he had no idea if he was talking to anyone at all. It could have been the wind in the trees. But then he heard a branch groan as it bent. "I can hear you," he said, calmly.
Something hit the ground with an unnaturally quiet thud. He glanced over his shoulder, and there she was. Karai. She stood before him, beautiful and deadly as ever. Her jet black hair gleamed under the soft light of the moon. There was no short sword at her belt, but it was dark, and there was no telling what she could be concealing.
"I am unarmed," she raised her hands before him in submission. "You can give me a once over, if you'd like."
Over his shoulder, he looked her up and down. She was wearing the bodycon black number that left little to the imagination. Leonardo remembered how it felt to kiss her. He remembered how her skin felt against his. He remembered. The turtle's blue eyes hardened, becoming cold as ice. Karai might not be carrying any weapons, but she might as well have a razor blade beneath her tongue.
The turtle did not rise to meet her. Perhaps it was foolish, remaining in the lotus position on the ground, but she had already disrupted his life enough as it was. He would not let her have this too. This was supposed to be his, and his alone. His moment of clarity. This retreat was not some party for her to crash.
"Why would I touch you when I can't even trust you?" he huffed, turning away from her to look back to the woods. Another foolish move. He would never turn his back to an enemy under any other circumstances. Though she said she was unarmed, he knew what she could do with just her fingers. He knew what Karai was capable of.
"I don't need you to trust me," she said, sitting down beside him. "In fact, it would be foolish of you to do so."
Leonardo gritted his teeth, mentally cursing himself with a gamut of swear words that would have given Raphael a run for his money. This was his own damn fault. He had responded to her. She had traced his call, no doubt, and now she was here. And they were alone. If he was being surrounded by her Foot ninja, he would have heard them by now. Instead, all he heard was the wind in the trees, making them shiver.
"Does your Master know you're here?" he growled.
"No," Karai crossed her legs. "Does yours?"
"Of course," Leonardo snapped, trying and failing to conceal the agitation bubbling up inside him. He exhaled sharply through his nostrils.
While Leonardo struggled to control his emotions, Karai's face was as rigid as a Noh mask. Despite his aggressive posturing, her face remained entirely expressionless as she examined him. Fierce brown eyes fell across his face, which despite his best efforts, was twisting slightly aggravation; the corners of his mouth pinched, and his brow creased behind his blue bandana.
"You should go," Leonardo said.
"What if I don't want to?" she asked, almost playfully.
She reached out to him, her fingers coming dangerously close to the burning white line of a scar above the edge of his plastron. Splinter had stitched Leonardo up, after that night in Manhattan, but it had still left a scar. She had left him with an indelible mark. Just a little something to remember their last night together by. And here she was, again, close enough to kiss him - close enough to kill him.
Leonardo's hand snapped up, catching her wrist before she could touch him. I hate you!Leonardo wanted to scream. I hate what you did. His fingers tightened around her wrist. I hate how you make me feel. She did not flinch. She did not wince. She did not even blink. He closed his eyes.
"What's done is done." The turtle exhaled, releasing her from his grip. "I'm letting - it - go," he over annunciated every word, as if he was explaining one of Splinter's metaphors to Michelangelo.
Sitting before him, her hand fell back to her lap. The ninja showed no signs of pain, though Leonardo knew he must have hurt her, given how hard he had squeezed. As the turtle turned away from her, he closed his eyes, and his lips pressed together in remorse.
Leonardo focused on his breathing. He inhaled. He exhaled. He ignored her. The turtle monitored his breath, and eventually, it became slow. Steady. Stable. When he opened his eyes again, the moon had risen to its apex, and she was still there, beside him. They had sat in silence for some time, yet, she was still there. Some small part of him had hoped that when he opened his eyes, she would be gone.
"If you won't leave, then you will meditate," Leonardo ordered, cooly. "You do know how to meditate, don't you?"
"Yes," she said, flatly.
"Good," Leonardo said, though he was not sure why. Maybe Raphael was right; maybe he did always need to have the last word.
Begrudgingly, Karai positioned herself behind him. They were back to back, and Leonardo felt himself stiffen at how close she was to him. The turtle's eyes narrowed, giving her a final glance over his shoulder. Slowly his expression softened, slightly, mollified as he reaffirmed she did not appear to be armed.
Leonardo faced forward. Training his eyes on the trees before him, he straightened himself, and drew his torso back up. As he stretched his body upward, he anchored himself. The turtle opened his hands, palms up, over his knees, and took a deep breath. When his eyes began to close, something bumped against his shell.
"Sit up straight, Karai," he instructed.
The dirt shifted beneath her as she readjusted her weight. Leonardo paused. It was clear that Karai was not accustomed to being still. While he waited for her to settle, his eyes drifted up to the moon above. Full and luminous, it hung above them, in the sky so blue it was almost black. Behind him, Karai was still. For the moment.
"Shall I guide us through a preliminary exercise?" Leonardo offered. Disconnect. Disengage. Decompress.
Karai said nothing.
The turtle shifted his weight slightly. "Very well then. To begin, we must first disconnect from our surroundings."
A night wind coursed down over the mountain, sending the tails of Leonardo's bandana up in a flurry around his face. And then, he felt something stir behind him. Karai stood so swiftly that he did not have a chance to open his eyes. As he did, she was slipping his bandana over his eyes, off his face. His eyes widened.
"What the hell Karai!" he snapped. But she was already gone.
The turtle was on his feet in an instant. In the absence of his bandana, the heat rose in his face. Despite still wearing his loincloth, he felt naked. The tension in his shoulders traveled down his arms, ending in his hands, which curled into fists. In the quiet of the night, he heard her footsteps as she ran. She could have faded away into the night, silent as a shadow, but instead she let him hear her. She wanted him to follow.
He sighed, but he followed, begrudgingly. His bandana bound him to his brothers, to his family. It was as much a part of him as his shell, and he would not let it go so easily. Perhaps if I win this little game of capture the flag she'll leave me in peace, he told himself. Ignoring the voice at the back of his mind telling him that was a thinly veiled excuse if they ever saw one, Leonardo walked into the woods.
Beyond the trees the lake gleamed black under the light of the white moon. Karai stood at its edge, the black one piece that left so little to the imagination crumpled at her feet. The wind made his bandana curl and twist in her hand. Her hair fell over her shoulder, and his gaze trailed down the gentle vale of her spine, stopping at the edge of a pair of panties that were barely there. She glanced over her bare shoulder and Leonardo swallowed, hard.
With that, she plunged into the lake.
Without thinking, he dove in headfirst after her. He did not remain below the surface of the lake for long. He shot up, immediately regretting his impulsiveness, as his lungs screamed for the air the cold had knocked out of them. The turtle came up, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. Though summer had only just ended, the lake was frigid. Yet Karai swam naked and lithe as a sea snake, without even flinching. It left him wondering what else her body had been conditioned to endure.
The lake was shallow enough for him to stand, at least on its edges. Leonardo took a step back, his feet dragging in the mud below. Though he could not see her, he knew she had not strayed far. He felt something against his leg, but it was only his loin cloth. Leonardo's face scrunched in embarrassment as his loincloth began billowing up around his thighs. Desperately, the turtle tried to shove it back down, only exacerbating the embarrassing bubbles that rose to the surface of the lake.
And then, she was there, in front of him. The golden umber skin of her shoulders glowed in the pale moonlight. Her hair clung to her neck, and her shoulders, and those red tendrils hung around her cheeks, dripping wet. Long, elegant fingers emerged from the water, as if to brush away the hair that softened the sharp features of her face, but instead, she unfurled his blue bandana. It dangled above the water, looking as wet and crumpled as Leonardo felt.
The turtle stepped back, and the mud below sucked at his feet. Though she did not approach him, he did not let down his guard. Karai might have seemed placid, but he knew; he knew that under her soft skin, beautiful and golden under the silver moon, were hard muscles, coiled, ready to strike. Like a snake, she could open herself up and swallow him whole. She had done it before. But how could he begrudge her that, when he had wanted it? And he had wanted it. More than anything.
He shook his head. No. Not more than anything. Not more than his brothers' trust. Not more than his father's love. He could have chosen her, that night in Manhattan. She had asked him. She had wanted him. He never thought to ask her, because he had never thought she wanted him, not enough, anyway. But she came to the mountains. He called, and she came. Karai kicked her legs, and the water encompassing them rocked with her body. The turtle could not bring himself to look at her, but he felt how her eyes lingered on him.
"All you need to do is ask," he exhaled, slowly drawing his eyes up to meet her gaze. "All you need to do is ask, and I'll forgive you."
She almost laughed at the arrogance of his words. "I do not want your forgiveness."
Leonardo's brow furrowed. "If you don't need my trust, if you don't want my forgiveness, then what it is it you want, Karai?" he snapped.
Her lips twisted into a grin, wicked and wonderful. "I thought you would never ask," she said, drifting closer to him.
He remembered their last kiss, they was she felt, the way she tasted. He had tried so hard to forget. He had tried so hard to hate her. But how could he? She had never given him any assurances that she would be anything more, or less, than what she was; the Chunin of the Foot Clan. Leonardo's eyes widened. Karai had never promised him anything. In his hubris, he had believed what he had wanted to believe. But in the end, with them, there was never any place for promises of what could be. There was only what was.
She kicked again, splashing the water up into his face. She could have disappeared beneath the surface without a sound, leaving only the smallest of ripples in her wake. Instead, she decided to splash him before disappearing. Leonardo let out a sigh of exasperation. She was testing him. To see how far he was willing to chase her. He could have let her go. But he was already wet.
The turtle dove into the lake again. His body, now accustomed to the searing cold, shot beneath the surface. Though his eyes were arguably his most human feature, they were much better adept to see beneath the water than any ordinary human's. He watched her, diving deeper, her body flowing through the water with an undeniable grace.
Before him, the Foot ninja paused, almost in repose. And slowly, she turned. His vision was sharp enough to see her lips turn up into a smirk, before she shot up and away from him again. An unspoken accord had existed between them since their first nights alone in the forgotten places beneath New York City. She was strong, but he was stronger. He was fast, but she was faster. But here, beneath the water, he had both the advantages of strength and speed. He was built for this; and she would not escape him. Not this time. Leonardo almost grinned.
The water parted before him, rushing over his carapace as he shot through the water. As he approached, she feebly kicked backward in a feigned escape attempt. The turtle came up beneath her, he could have touched her; could have let his hands slide up her sides, let them follow the curve of her body, but he didn't. Instead, he followed her upward. They broke the surface together.
"My bandana," Leonardo said, mustering his most authoritative tone.
Karai laughed, shaking her wet hair around her shoulders. Water splattered on Leonardo's face, and he frowned, wiping it away with the back of his hand. She was still laughing, genuinely, joyously. He had never heard her laugh before. Not like she meant it.
"My bandana," he repeated. "Give it back."
She tilted her head to the side, spreading her arms before her as she treaded water. "What if I don't want to?"
Leonardo reached for her wrist, but she propelled herself backwards, kicking at the water between them. Dodging her kick, the turtle jetted forward, his arms outstretched. His fingers brushed her leg. As she thrashed, his hand closed around her ankle, and he yanked her towards him. Her body reeled back, slippery in his hands, but he drew her in. He had caught her; but only because she wanted him to.
Ensnared, she coiled around him. Leonardo stiffened as her hips wrapped around his, drawing him closer to her. His cock twitched against her thigh, and he felt the heat rise in his face. No. Not when he was just starting to trust himself again.
The turtle wrested her from the water, pushing her onto her back at the edge of the lake. As she thrashed beneath him, he kept his eyes trained on her face, refusing to let them drift below her neck, to her small, perfect breasts. She had bared herself to him, to test him, to tempt him. In all of their trysts, he had never seen so much as a bared ankle. But that night in Manhattan, which should have been their last, she had worn that dress. Pristine, white and revealing, it had served its purpose perfectly. It had hidden the short sword that nearly took his life. Tonight she was pulling out all the stops, laying herself bare under the moon, but he would not be so easily seduced. Not this time.
"My bandana," he grimaced.
Despite the cold of the lake, her body was warm beneath his. Heat radiated from her skin as she squirmed beneath him. His breath caught in his throat. It was that night in Manhattan all over again. There was only one way this could end. But still, he ached for her. His entire body yearned to be closer to her, to take her. Though he held her, she had laid herself bare before him. He could barely bring himself to touch her, any more than he could bring himself to let her go.
And then, just like that, she was still. Her hand opened and the bandana slipped from her fingers. Rolling back, she met his gaze, challenging him to choose. The bandana, or her. Leonardo swallowed the saliva that filled his mouth. Was he literally drooling over her? He shook his head, ever so slightly, swearing silently to himself.
All that time he had spend banishing thoughts of her with meditation techniques. Breathing exercises. Logic. A million reasons why they could never be. Or should never be. Now she was here, laid bare before him; the subject of the fantasy of countless sleepless nights. He had wanted for so little in his life. The path of leadership was one of austerity. Of selflessness. Of denial. But in truth, he could no more deny his feelings than he could deny the changing of the seasons. All he could control was his actions. He allowed himself to want her, even if he could barely bring himself to touch her.
Without thinking, his eyes strayed to her chest, and he swallowed, abruptly diverting his gaze to the sky above them. The stars were breathtaking, shining just as brightly as the moon.
"Perhaps a certain darkness is necessary, if you want to see the stars," she murmured, her voice drifting up from below him.
He met her fierce gaze, her eyes burning bright as stars in the dark of the night. Leonardo knew then that the night was not something only to be endured until dawn. The darkness had its own beauty, as did the things that dwelled there. And she was so very beautiful.
Karai leaned up, her neck craning to reach his, to kiss him. Leonardo's eyes widened as he jerked back, memories of that night in Manhattan flooding his mind. Her sword. His blood. He had lost so much blood, he had almost lost his life. She said it herself. It would be foolish to trust her.
When he refocused, she was below him, her face still, but her eyes - her eyes glinted harshly in the dark. Something dropped in the pit of his stomach. There was pain in those fierce eyes. But what was done was done. Slow and deliberate, he drew back, careful not to put too much of his weight on her. Leaning back on his legs, he gathered his bandana up from the ground. He would allow himself to want her. Nothing more.
"Thank you," he said, though he was not sure why.
Closing his eyes, he brought his bandana to his face and tied it as he had done a thousand times before. He knew what he risked, closing his eyes. But when he opened them again, she was still there, zipping herself into her black one piece. The heat rose in his face, along with the shameful realization that his cheeks were turning a deep green in front of her. He quickly averted his gaze. Seamlessly, she slipped into her tabi boots and stood.
"Wait!" Leonardo cried, louder than he had intended. His voice echoed over the vast expanse of silence that held fast so high in the mountains. Without thinking, he had reached out to her; her wrist was in his hand. His grip was so tenuous she could have shaken him off with the slightest flick of her wrist.
"Why did you come?" he asked.
"Why did you follow me in?"
Leonardo's sigh was carried away on the wind. "Maybe I missed chasing you as much as you missed being chased," he said, softly.
Her brows narrowed. "Perhaps," she murmured.
Leonardo drew her in by the wrist. He allowed himself to touch her, not bothering to ask for permission to gather her up in his arms. If he let this moment pass, he knew it would be there last. He felt her stiffen at his touch, her muscles tensing beneath his hands. More than anything, he wanted to soothe her, but what could he say when neither of them were willing to speak. It seemed that they they danced around one another, evading each other in all things, even their words.
Leonardo had never thought of Karai as small before. But she was. In his arms, she seemed almost fragile. Her legs curled up under her, and he held her under the sea of stars, in the quiet of the night.
As she settled into his arms Leonardo closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Disconnect.He exhaled. Disengage. Do not engage with arising thoughts. What's done is done. He inhaled. Decompress. She was here, now, with him. Nothing else mattered. Nothing but being.
A distinctive honk interrupted their moment of silence. Leonardo's eyes flared open to a breaking dawn. Even though they were miles from the main road, he could recognize that honk anywhere. The turtle van. Why hadn't Donatello called? All at once, he remembered shutting it off, after he had called her. But he knew Donatello all too well; the tracking device was still active. Karai's eyes opened slowly.
"Donatello," Leonardo grumbled. "He came early."
"Which one is that?"
"The tall one -" he began.
"With the glasses?" she interrupted, uncoiling herself from his lap.
Leonardo smiled, unsure if he should feel troubled or touched. "Yes, the one with the glasses."
"You won't want to keep him waiting," she said. There was an edge to her words.
The turtle nodded somberly.
The radiant light of the rising sun was only just beginning to wash over them. They stood before each other, stiff, unyielding, as the dark clouds that lingered in the morning light. Neither willing to say it, even though it so desperately needed to be said. Good bye. Or was it? Leonardo awkwardly shifted his weight. Karai leaned back, and then let her neck crane up so that she might look him in the eyes.
The new day dawned over the mountain.
"You were right, you know," she said, slowly. "About what you said earlier."
She left him with a parting kiss. And this time, he did not pull away.
Leonardo found the van, parked on a shoulder that was little more than an unpaved ditch on the side of the mountain road. As he slung the door open, he noted that Donatello gave him a measuring glance. The eldest turtle swung into the passenger seat, and he remembered all of his gear, so meticulously removed and folded away in his pack.
"Hey," Donatello said, almost cautiously.
"Hey," Leonardo replied as the door shut behind him.
"I thought…we thought you might want to come home early."
Home. The word lingered between them, suspended in silence. A smile spread across Leonardo's face as he nodded.
They did not speak as they drove. Not until Donatello swallowed, loudly. Leonardo noticed how his younger brother's fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
"Do you…" Donatello began, then stopped abruptly to clear his throat. "Do you regret what you did?"
Leonardo felt his lips curl into a slight smile. "No, Don, I don't." He thought of her, under the stars. "But I do regret betraying your trust."
He thought he saw his younger brother smile, if only slightly, before bringing a thermos of fragrant coffee to his lips.
"So, uh, what's colony collapse?" Leonardo ventured.
"Colony collapse disorder?" Donatello's brow ridge raised quizzically. "… are you sure you want to know?"
"Try me."
Donatello spent most of the ride home explaining the subject, wildly gesticulating, spilling coffee from his thermos, and nearly running them off the road, not once, but twice. Leonardo smiled. There was comfort in knowing that in the light of the new day, he could be forgiven.