Vengeance is Mine

by LuckyLadybug

1987 series, my Exit the Fly verse. Someone is stalking Baxter with the intent to kill. The Turtles and Barney struggle to find out who.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 1987

Vengeance is Mine

By Lucky_Ladybug

Notes: The characters are not mine and the story is! ThickerThanLove helped with some plot suggestions, including what the stalker is angry about. This is part of my Exit the Fly verse. Baxter is human again and an ally of the Turtles. His brother Barney works for Shredder.

Baxter sighed to himself as he alternately ate his breakfast and checked his phone. There were always new emails due to him being part of Channel 6's staff. He had developed a habit of looking them over in the morning and then thinking of how to reply on his way to work. He tended to answer them off and on throughout the day when he had a moment.

He still had his problems of being bothered by cranks and cyberbullies in addition to the legitimate scientific queries from viewers and the occasional message from Barney. There was nothing from Barney today, he noted. But there was an email from an address he didn't recognize that was devoid of a subject line. He and Barney rarely used subjects lines, but strangers did. The lack of one instantly set him on guard. But, knowing he needed to see it sooner or later, he finally clicked. And promptly wished he hadn't.

The message was short, to the point, and very ugly. Amid a string of obscenities and curses the likes of which he had never dreamed of using in his life, the sender had several highly disturbing sentences.

You turned me into a giant praying mantis, you disgusting fly. You never should have been allowed to get a legitimate job here in the city or anywhere else. Mark my words: within a week, I'm going to squash you like the bug you still are.

He slumped back. He had received hate mail before, but never any from people he had attacked in his insane, revenge-driven outbursts. And never before had he received what could certainly be construed as a threat on his life.

He honestly wasn't sure what to make of it. April had encouraged him to forward the crank and bullying emails to her since he didn't feel he could file complaints against them in good conscience. But this was something different, something darker. He wasn't sure he wanted to pass it along to her or anyone else. This person's hatred was so very much like his own when he had been cross-fused with a fly. He had sought vengeance on Shredder over and over for what he had done. Could Baxter really fault this person for showing the same feelings towards him?

On the other hand, he had been crazed and not even himself when he had come up with those revenge plots. Once he had been free of the fly's influence, he hadn't wanted revenge any more. This person certainly wasn't still a praying mantis; the Turtles had reversed all the damage he had caused. But revenge was still desired anyway. Was this person insane, driven there by the experience? Or was he sane but hateful anyway?

The Turtle-Comm went off before he had decided what to do. Shuddering, he set the phone aside and picked up the shell-shaped object. "Hello, Michelangelo," he greeted when he opened it.

The usually jovial Turtle now seemed solemn. "Hey, Baxter," he said. "Have you seen the morning news?"

"No. I usually don't watch it," Baxter blinked. "What's wrong?"

"Well . . . maybe you'd better watch it this time." Michelangelo's eyes were filled with worry. "Somebody showed up at Channel 6 protesting you working there and Vernon's talking to them now, live on the air."

Baxter swallowed hard. "I . . . I see." He got up and went into the living room. As he switched on the television set, he braced himself for what he might see.

The man arguing with Vernon sent a chill down his spine. Whenever he turned and looked at the camera, Baxter could practically feel his hate tangibly coming through the screen. It filled his face. What didn't fill his face or his voice was madness. As far as Baxter could tell, he was completely sane.

He was also swearing a mile a minute. Practically every other word was bleeped out.

"What I don't understand, Sir," Vernon was trying to say, "is why you've waited this long to come forward. Sir?"

"I was out of the country on business," the stranger snarled. "Now I come back and find this trash working at what was my favorite station!" He gestured at a printout of Baxter's profile from the Channel 6 website. "Can you explain to me why he's here?! He should have been caught and crushed with the biggest flyswatter the city could find!"

Baxter flinched.

"He's been a competent worker for us," Vernon said coldly.

"You were even the guy who reported on what he was!" the stranger snarled. "Now you're standing up for him?!"

"What he once was doesn't have any bearing on what he is now," Vernon replied. "He's a good man . . . and a good friend. I'm proud to say he's mine."

Baxter slowly smiled. Vernon truly was changing. It was almost worth hearing this person's hatred to be able to witness someone he had once thought would be his enemy showing his loyalty instead.

"Now, Sir, I really must ask you to leave," Vernon went on.

"Oh, I'll leave," the man snapped. "I'll boycott this station. And don't think I'll let your 'friend' off the hook, now or ever. In a week it will all be over."

Baxter stiffened. "It's the same man," he gasped. "He really means it. He's going to kill me!"

"What?!" Michelangelo cried from the Turtle-Comm.

Baxter jumped a mile. He had forgotten Michelangelo was still there. "I . . . I . . . he sent me an email, Michelangelo. A horrible, sickening email. He's going to kill me. After seeing him on television, I know it's not an idle threat. He means it!"

"Why the heck would anybody confess on live TV that they're gonna kill someone?!" Michelangelo exclaimed.

"I don't know!" Baxter trembled. "I wasn't sure I was even going to do anything about this email. Now I've made up my mind. I'm reporting it to the police."

"Baxter?" Now Donatello had squeezed onto the viewscreen as well. "Does he actually say he's going to kill you?"

Baxter paused. ". . . Well, no," he had to admit. "It could be taken figuratively instead of literally. But I don't believe that. He's going to kill me!"

"You'd better report it to the police, alright," Donatello said. "But I don't know if they'll even figure they can do anything. At least not until they know who this nutball is."

"I'd be inclined to believe he used a fake name on this email," Baxter said. "Yet when he was so bold on national television, maybe he wouldn't have any qualms about using his real name."

"I don't know," Donatello mused. "If he used his real name, or is someone who could be recognized fairly easily, maybe he really doesn't plan on killing you. But you might be able to get him on Harassment in any case."

"I'm certainly going to try," Baxter vowed.

xxxx

Barney was hard at work in his laboratory with a welder's mask and a blowtorch when he became aware that Vincent was calling to him and sounding quite panicked. Frowning, he turned off the blowtorch and lifted the mask. "What on Earth is the problem?!" he demanded.

"Barney, look at this." Vincent didn't even wait for Barney to agree. He just started playing a YouTube video of a Channel 6 feed from moments before.

Barney stared at it. He came closer, pulling off the mask as his eyes bored into the screen. "This piece of garbage is calling my brother trash," he said, his voice filled with growing outrage. "He's threatening my brother on live television! Did you hear that?!"

"What are we going to do?!" Vincent cried. "Baxter is in danger!"

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do," Barney snarled. When the video finished, he clicked into his email problem and started typing. Finding it supremely awkward, he yanked off the thick gloves he had been wearing and tried again.

Baxter, what's the deal with that man who barged in at Channel 6?

Barney

It was only a few minutes later when Baxter replied.

I don't really know. I've never heard about him before today.

Baxter

Barney growled in frustration. "This is no time to close yourself off," he said to the email.

He threatened you on national television! Has he contacted you personally?

Barney

"Barney, what are you planning?" Vincent asked.

"I won't let him get away with this." Barney's voice was dark and cold, but the fire was boiling just under the surface. "My brother doesn't deserve his rage or his hatred! He was completely insane as a fly creature. What does it have to do with him as a human?!"

"Barney . . ." Barney recognized that tone of voice. Vincent was concerned.

He sent me a threatening email. I'm going to show it to the police.

Baxter

Barney clenched his teeth. "So, he's already launching right into his campaign against my brother, is he? He's going to be sorely sorry."

Forward it to me.

Barney

"What can you do with that?" Vincent wondered. "It's a fake name, if he's smart at all. And it was probably sent from an Internet cafe on a public computer."

"It may be useful anyway." Barney's eyes flashed. "I'll use that and the video of him at Channel 6 to track down his identity."

"I'm all for doing whatever we can to help Baxter," Vincent said. "And I'm thrilled that you're all into it too. But you're having such a strong reaction, Barney, that I'm starting to wonder-who are you more angry at, this stalker . . . or yourself?"

"What do I have to do with this?" Barney retorted.

"The way you're talking is the same way you talked about Baxter in regards to how you treated him," Vincent said.

"What's true for one situation is just as true for another," Barney said. "Baxter didn't deserve my hatred and he doesn't deserve this person's, either."

I appreciate your concern, Barney, but I don't know how this will help. . . .

Baxter

In spite of Baxter's confusion, he had attached the offensive email. Barney read through it once, twice, his eyes flashing with gathering outrage on each line.

"This wretch thinks he's going to squash Baxter, eh?" he said at last. "Not if I get to him first." And he opened up a new program and began typing.

xxxx

Baxter collapsed into his chair in his office and leaned back, staring blankly at the ceiling. It had been such a long morning. It felt like the entire length of the day had already passed, and instead there was so much more to go. He really wondered if he had the strength to face it.

"Dr. Stockman?"

He looked up in surprise at Vernon's voice. He was standing in the doorway, looking both awkward and concerned.

"Mr. Fenwick." Baxter gave him a genuine smile. "I saw what happened when you interviewed that man today. I'm very moved."

Vernon gripped the doorframe. "I meant every word," he said. "And that's strange, coming from me. I'm usually not a sincere person."

"You're changing, Mr. Fenwick." Baxter sat up straight. "I believe you're beginning to find your true worth."

Vernon slowly nodded. "Perhaps. But it's not easy in the least. I'm often tempted to throw up my shields again and hide behind them. It's very difficult for me to believe that I'm not the failure I've always been told I am."

"I never said it would be easy," Baxter said. "Quite the opposite. But tell me this. Have you noticed a change in Miss O'Neil and Miss Langinstein's attitude towards you?"

"They seem to like me better, even though I'm still a coward," Vernon said slowly. "April has definitely been warmer since the incident on the ship. I thought she'd hate me for sure, but she doesn't."

"They've even told you that you're not a failure," Baxter said.

"And they believe it, incredibly." But then Vernon shook himself out of his thoughts. "What am I doing? I didn't come here to talk about me. I wondered how you're doing."

"I'm alright," Baxter said.

"Now look. I can't believe you're not shaken up by this!" Vernon exclaimed. "And maybe it's even my fault. If I hadn't done that story on you that revealed you were the giant fly terrorizing New York, maybe this madman never would have found out." He looked. "I didn't want you at Channel 6 when I found out about your past. I hoped the story would cause Mr. Thompson to fire you."

"Sooner or later the truth would have come out from a different source, if not from you," Baxter said. "Especially since Pinky McFingers told what Barney said about me all over that restaurant. You and I each had misconceptions about the other when we first met. But we've matured enough to have got past them. I don't blame you for broadcasting that story about me. It was, unfortunately, the truth. But it means a lot to me that you regret having done it."

Vernon walked into the office, to Baxter's further surprise. "You want me to open up," he said. "But what about you? Are you really always so calm, so collected?"

Baxter looked away. "No," he said softly. "I'm honestly terrified. But life goes on. I don't want to just hide and wait for whatever that man is going to do next. I want to keep living my life."

"I could never be like that," Vernon said. "If someone threatened me, I wouldn't dare come out."

"He could get me anywhere, including at my apartment," Baxter said. "But if you would feel more comfortable hiding, that's perfectly alright. It's not something to be ashamed of."

"I doubt I'll ever see it that way," Vernon grunted.

"Maybe not," Baxter agreed. "But you will continue to have friends who will try to help you regardless."

Vernon hesitated. "If there's anything I can do for you . . ."

Baxter smiled. "I'll let you know."

xxxx

Michelangelo was highly unsettled by the morning's news and events. After hanging up with Baxter, he left the television on in case there would be any further updates on the disturbing character.

"This is just mondo uncool, Dudes," he said to the other Turtles. "Poor Baxter's been trying to live a decent life. He's done a lot of good. Heck, look how he's actually had a positive effect on Vernon! And he's helped us so many times. . . . I know the things he did as a cross-fused human-fly creature were awful, but he wasn't even himself then. He couldn't think straight! And if the damage was fixed, why can't anyone involved just deal with it and move on? Why do they have to try to hurt him now that he's finally back to normal?!"

"Ironically, I imagine Baxter himself would be the first to try to understand this person and be kind to him," Leonardo said.

Michelangelo nodded. "Yeah. Like he was telling us, it's hard for him not to show kindness and understanding when he knows what it's like to walk a darker path in life."

"Well, I'm perfectly okay with not showing kindness and understanding to the jerk," Raphael growled. "Isn't there something we could do to track him down?"

"I could try to take a screenshot of his face and run it through different databases to try to get a match," Donatello said. "That's probably what the police are doing too."

"The more people doing it, the quicker somebody might get some results," Raphael said. "Go for it, Donatello!"

"Okay." Donatello went to his computer and brought up the video. Then he copied the picture, cropped it, and started to type. After some time, however, he leaned back and shook his head. "Nothing. This guy doesn't seem to have ever been in trouble before."

"So he's just an average Joe who gets his kicks from hurting poor repentant scientists," Raphael said in disgust.

"And I'm afraid Baxter won't have too much luck with the police, either," Donatello sighed. "They'll probably tell him that there's not a whole lot they can do, especially since the threat wasn't necessarily literal."

"Then we'll have to do what they can't!" Michelangelo insisted. "If they can't protect Baxter, we will!" He grabbed his Turtle-Comm. "I'm gonna find out if he's seen the police yet."

It took Baxter a while to answer. When he did, he looked frazzled. "Hello, Michelangelo."

"Whoa, Baxter, are you okay?" Michelangelo asked in concern.

"I don't feel especially 'okay,'" Baxter admitted. "I've received two more hateful emails, both from different, most likely temporary, email addresses. Mr. Fenwick and I have both spoken to the police, and they say they're going to do what they can, but I'm not particularly hopeful."

"What about that Lieutenant Kojak?" Michelangelo wanted to know.

"Unfortunately, he's tied up in court," Baxter sighed. "I spoke with a member of his squad. They'll try to do what they can, but when they don't know who the man even is and they're not sure he means what he said in the threat, they're afraid they can't spare men to do very much."

"We'll fill in where they can't," Michelangelo insisted. "We won't leave you unprotected, Bud."

Baxter managed a tired but touched smile. "I know you won't."

"Are you okay right now? I could come over," Michelangelo offered.

"I'm at work now," Baxter said. "I doubt anything will happen here."

"Okay! I'll come by when you get off," Michelangelo promised.

"Thank you," Baxter said softly.

xxxx

Baxter was right-nothing more happened while he was at work. But when he and Michelangelo arrived back at his apartment, they were both surprised and confused to find a mysterious small box in front of his door.

"What on Earth?" Baxter blinked.

"Maybe it's a bomb or something," Michelangelo gulped.

"That man gave me a week. I doubt this would be a bomb." Baxter bent down and picked it up. "I have no idea who it could be from, though. There's no address or sealing tape on it." He lifted the lid and his hands trembled. "Oh."

"What is it, Dude?!" Michelangelo came closer and peered inside. "Oh, sick!"

The box was lined with dead flies. In the center were several scattered fly wings and other assorted fly parts.

Baxter closed the box again. "Maybe it's just a cruel prank," he stammered. "Maybe some teenagers in the neighborhood saw the story on the news and thought it would be funny to torment me too."

Michelangelo looked sadly at him. "Do you really believe that?"

"No." Baxter's shoulders slumped. When his phone beeped, he pulled it out and opened the message. He hoped it would be something from Barney, but there was no such luck.

You should have got my little care package by now. Like it? Maybe I got lucky and some of them are your offspring. I killed them all, especially for you.

The rest of the email was filled with more unrepeatable phrases and obscene words.

"That scuzz-bucket," Michelangelo exclaimed with a rare angry edge to his voice.

Baxter was shaking more as he put his phone away. "I want to say this man has a right to his anger." He fumbled with the key before he managed to steady his hands enough to unlock the door. "What I did to him was horrific. I was so far gone at that point that I thought the entire world should pay for what happened to me. I wasn't even making sense anymore."

"You were completely gonzo, Baxter," Michelangelo said, following him into the apartment. "As soon as you were yourself again, you didn't have any urges to go hurting people, even the ones who really did that to you. You just wanted to get on with your life. This creepazoid acted sane on the news, but instead of wanting to move on, all he wants to do is stay stuck in his rut and lash out at you. And okay, maybe he has a right to his anger, but he doesn't have any right to act on it like this!"

Baxter sank into a chair. "Maybe I'm not even safe here," he moaned. "Maybe my being here will put Miss O'Neil and Miss Langinstein in danger. On the other hand, what if this man is watching me so closely that he'll see if I try to leave?"

"Do you want to go somewhere else?" Michelangelo asked. "You could take out a hotel room. Or you know you're always welcome at the Lair."

Baxter gave a weak smile. "Thank you, Michelangelo, but no. I don't want to risk leading him back there. And this is my home now. I really don't want to leave it."

"Then you shouldn't have to!" Michelangelo exclaimed.

Baxter looked away. ". . . I've received unkind emails for weeks now," he said quietly. "But the others were all either cranks or people who wanted to blow off steam by sending me hate mail. Never in my life have I experienced anything like this."

"Nobody should ever have to," Michelangelo said. "Especially not somebody who deserves so much better out of life. You've already been through Hell and back, Baxter. You should just have good times now."

"Unfortunately, whether I was out of my mind or not, this is a consequence of my past actions," Baxter said. "I brought it on myself. Now I have to deal with it."

"Everybody else you hurt moved on," Michelangelo frowned. "Why can't he?"

"Obviously I traumatized him too much for him to be able to," Baxter said softly. "Maybe he suffers as I still do, with urges to behave as the insects we once were. I'm utterly terrified of what he intends to do to me, as I believe he is completely serious about killing me. But on the other hand . . . my heart goes out to him. I don't think I could hate him if I tried."

"Oh Baxter. . . ." Michelangelo came over and knelt on the floor next to the chair arm, crossing his arms on top of it. "You're too good to have had to go through all the rotten stuff you did."

"You're a kind person, Michelangelo. It's inherent in your nature. But . . ." Baxter wearily shook his head. "I don't know if I would have been as kind if all of these things hadn't happened to me."

"You were always kind, Dude," Michelangelo insisted. "You were always a nice guy to Barney, even when he really didn't deserve it. And now that's finally started to change him for the better."

Baxter wryly smirked. "I was afraid of him. I couldn't have been anything other than nice if I had wanted to. I still wondered if I was afraid of him not that long ago."

"Yeah. But even though you were scared of him, you still loved him," Michelangelo said.

"Yes," Baxter conceded. "I always have." He gazed off into the distance. "And I'm not afraid of him anymore."

"And that's awesome," Michelangelo said in all sincerity. "Nobody should have to be afraid of his brother."

"I agree." Baxter looked down at the box still in his hands. "I suppose I've destroyed any chance of finding fingerprints on this thing. . . . On the other hand, I doubt if there were any to begin with. He surely wore gloves."

Michelangelo shuddered. "It's mondo gross. You'd better call the police about it in any case, Dude."

"You're probably right." Baxter took out his phone again. But instead of calling the police, he paused. "Of course, what he said in his email isn't true." He flamed red. "Or even possible. . . ."

"Of course," Michelangelo said. "Everybody knows that."

"I wonder if some people do." Baxter sighed, leaning against the back of the chair. "I occasionally get curious emails asking if I can change back and forth like Bugman. For all I know, maybe some people also think I was able to become fly-size and . . ." He covered his face with a hand.

"I've never heard of anybody thinking mutants can change their size," Michelangelo said.

"Maybe not then." Baxter took his hand away but still looked awkward. He had something else on his mind, but he wasn't sure he wanted to say it to Michelangelo.

Michelangelo watched him carefully. "What is it, Baxter?"

Baxter went a bit red again. "I . . . well, I actually did struggle with the fly's feelings and . . . sensations whenever it felt the urge to . . . mate. . . . But somehow I managed to never give in. That was one part of myself I fought tooth and nail to keep even after I lost almost everything else. . . ."

". . . You know, I never even thought about that problem before," Michelangelo realized. "That sounds just awful. And it shows all the more how strong you really were even then, that you weren't completely swallowed up by the fly."

"I think I might have been, had it gone on much longer," Baxter said softly. "Without Vincent, I degraded much faster. Imagine, I went after all of you with the retro-mutagen ray gun instead of using it on myself as soon as I got hold of it! I'll always have to be grateful that Leonardo managed to knock the gun around so it blasted me and freed me from that Hell."

"Me too," Michelangelo declared.

Smiling a bit at that, Baxter dialed the number for the police.

xxxx

Barney leaned back, rubbing his bloodshot eyes in frustration. He had spent the majority of the day tracking down every possible lead he could find. He had even hacked into Baxter's email and retrieved copies of the other two harassing messages in case one of them proved easier to trace. But it was all to no avail. This wretch, whoever he was, was hiding his identity well.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to give up, Barney," Vincent sighed. "You've even talked to the people at the Internet cafes where the messages were sent. Even though they recognized the man from today, none of them ever saw him before."

"And he paid for his computer time in cash," Barney growled. "I know. He thinks he can hide from me. Well, he won't."

"Barney, he doesn't even know you," Vincent said.

"You know what I mean." Barney got up and began a nervous pace.

He and Vincent were currently in a module on the surface, where he had brought them after learning the names and locations of all the Internet cafes used to send the cruel emails. Shredder and Krang would be looking for him soon, no doubt, if they weren't already. But he was so wound up, he didn't know how he was going to concentrate on finishing the sub-electron amplifier right now.

"Barney? Are you going to see Baxter while we're up here?"

He stopped pacing and looked to Vincent with a frown. "What would be the point? I hurt him too much for him to want to talk to me about this. He has his friends."

"It wouldn't be to try to get him to talk," Vincent said. "It would be to see how he's doing. And maybe to offer your support."

Barney pondered on that. "You're right. We should check on him." He sat down and programmed the location of Baxter's apartment building into the module. Then he picked up the laptop and settled back for the ride.

"Are we still going in the back way?" Vincent asked when they parked.

"I would certainly rather that no one can report where we are," Barney mused. "But the module by the curb likely makes it more obvious than seeing me inside the building would. Anyway," he reflected, "Baxter had better be keeping his window locked."

He opened the door and jumped out with the laptop before closing the door and heading for the front of the building. After steeling himself for any incidents of mistaken identity that he was sure would ensue, he pulled open the door and went in.

An old lady he didn't know was getting her mail from the lobby. She turned at the sound of the door and smiled at him. "Hello there!"

"Hello," Barney nodded to her and headed for the stairs.

"You must be Dr. Stockman's brother," she called after him. "He'll be happy to see you."

Barney paused on the steps and turned around. "You don't think I am him?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"With that red hair? Of course not!" She waved a gentle hand. "But it is uncanny how you two look so much alike when I assume you're fraternal and not identical twins."

Barney slowly nodded. "People have always mistaken me for him."

"That's a shame," she said. "I mean, he's a wonderful man, but everyone needs their own identity."

"Yes," Barney said in surprise at her understanding. "They do."

"I'm Paula Kowalchek, by the way." She came to the stairs and held out a hand.

Barney slowly shook it. "To make things confusing, I am also Dr. Stockman," he said. "Dr. Barney Stockman."

"Then I'll call you Barney," she declared. "And I won't keep you any longer." She stepped back. "I live on the ground floor, underneath April O'Neil's apartment."

"It's good to meet you." Barney turned and continued up the stairs.

"She's a nice lady," Vincent said when they were out of hearing range.

"She is," Barney agreed.

"And she'd be a good friend for you."

". . . I suppose I might see her again if I take the front entrance in the future," Barney said.

They arrived at the third floor and he went to Baxter's apartment. But he hesitated when he heard voices inside.

"It sounds like Michelangelo," Vincent said.

"Then Baxter really doesn't need me," Barney grunted.

"But you want to check on him, don't you?" Vincent pressed. "In any case, I want to. And if you don't see him, Mrs. Kowalchek will probably innocently mention your presence and Baxter will wonder why you didn't stay."

Barney sighed in exasperation. "Alright, alright." He slowly reached out and knocked.

The talking inside stopped. In a moment, the door opened and Baxter stood there, looking like he had prepared for someone else. The sight of Barney stunned him. "Barney?" he said in amazement.

Suddenly Barney felt incredibly awkward. "I . . . I mean Vincent . . . no . . . both of us wanted to check on you." He held up the laptop.

Vincent looked up at Barney with exasperation of his own before smiling at Baxter. "Hi, Baxter!"

Baxter smiled too. "Hello, both of you. Please, come in." He held the door open wider. "I'm afraid the police will be here in a few minutes, but I'm very happy to see you both."

Now Barney was all business. "Why are they coming?" he demanded. "Did something else happen?" He stepped into the apartment.

Baxter drew a shuddering sigh. "When I came home tonight, I found a sadistic box on my doorstep. That was swiftly followed by another email, the fourth one today."

"It's full of dead flies!" Michelangelo announced with new outrage. "And fly parts!"

Barney's eyes flashed in a dark and dangerous manner. "Surely the police will take that as a serious threat," he snarled. "Especially combined with the email!"

"The officer I spoke with seemed concerned," Baxter agreed. He blinked. "But how did you know the police weren't sure what to make of the earlier messages?"

"We talked to the police," Vincent said. "Or . . . well, Barney did."

"You talked to the police?" Baxter looked at Barney, stunned. "You mean you walked right into the station and . . ."

"No, of course not," Barney snapped. "I wouldn't dare. I called them on the phone. I . . ." He averted his gaze. "I wanted to know what they were doing about your case. Not enough, naturally."

"Barney . . ." Baxter smiled. "I'm touched. You don't know what it means to me to know that you care. These last several months . . . they've been filled with both happiness and sorrow. I worry about you all the time. But I am so happy about how things have been changing between us. I realize we'll probably never be close, but knowing you don't still revile me is more than I could have ever hoped for."

"And it just further shows how dysfunctional we are that that is what you're grateful for," Barney grunted. "Normal families don't have such issues in the first place."

"But they do have issues," Michelangelo finally spoke up as he came over to them. "And they work through them. It's gnarly that you're trying to do just that." He looked firmly at Barney. "We're all real grateful for the help you've given us lately, Barney. And you too, Vincent." He glanced at the laptop.

"We've been of some use," Barney said, his tone vague.

Another knock on the door made him tense. "We'll have to go." He headed for the kitchen.

"Barney!" Baxter hurried after him. "Thank you."

Barney turned back. "How are you holding up, Baxter?" he asked in all seriousness.

"I . . ." Baxter considered his answer very carefully. "I'll be alright. I don't blame this man for being angry at me. What I did to him was inexcusable."

Barney's eyes darkened. "You're a fool. You can't hold yourself responsible for something you did when you were out of your mind. But he is completely responsible for what he's doing to you."

"Baxter, please contact us if anything else happens," Vincent pleaded. "We're both worried about you."

"I know." Baxter looked to the door as the knocking came again. "I'm coming!"

When he looked back, Barney had vanished into the kitchen to pry up the window. Sighing to himself, he crossed to the door.

xxxx

Shredder was in a fury by the time Barney and Vincent made it back to the Technodrome.

"Where have you been all day?!" he bellowed at Barney when the module opened and he stepped out with his laptop. "And don't give me that miserable excuse about looking for parts!"

"I was, though," Barney smoothly answered. "I was looking for something very specialized and I had to go all over the city to find it. Now, if you'll excuse me." And he glided past.

Shredder fumed. "Oh! There's no way I believe that weasel was out for hours to get a part!" he snarled.

"And why not? It's a perfectly logical reason!" Krang shot back.

"I know! Everything he says is 'perfectly logical.' That's what bothers me! That, and the fact that there could be another 'perfectly logical' reason why he was on the surface today." Shredder stormed over to the transdimensional screen and pressed a button. "Look."

On the screen, April was delivering the late news. "And our own Dr. Baxter Stockman, who has received a disturbing number of threats from an unknown irate citizen today, can rest assured that he has many supporters throughout the city. A group of viewers has gathered just outside the Channel 6 building to offer their love and good wishes to our scientific consultant."

Krang stared at the screen. "So what?"

"So maybe Barney went topside to track down whoever's been stalking Baxter!" Shredder growled. "I've been monitoring the story off and on all day. They made a scene at Channel 6 in the morning, sent several obscene emails to Baxter throughout the day, and left a box of dead flies on his doorstep tonight!"

"Well, they've certainly been busy with childish antics," said Krang.

"You yourself don't seem to find it impossible that Barney actually loves his brother," Shredder said. "And you felt it wouldn't be a problem. If he's spending all his time chasing after morons who are trying to harm Baxter, it can very well be a problem! He won't be spending any time doing what he's supposed to be doing here!"

Krang still looked bored. "Has this person given any kind of ultimatum or is this something that has the potential to just go on and on?"

"Apparently he's threatened to kill Baxter by the end of the week," Shredder said.

"Then let's wait a bit and see what happens," Krang said. "We're not ready for the sub-electron amplifier yet anyway. Maybe by the time Barney feels like completing it, we'll be able to rush it into use immediately instead of waiting for the rest of our project to be finished first."

Shredder finally sneered. "I think he actually believes it's going to be used for the Technodrome's electrical output."

"Oh, but it is," Krang smiled. "After we put it to its other good use first."

"So why didn't you tell Barney the full extent of what that little device is going to be used for?" Shredder asked.

"Hmm. Let's just say I do wonder how he'll handle that," Krang said. "It's going to be a lot different than anything he's seen us do before. And if he does have any objections, I want to make sure he's already built it first!"

The two villains began to laugh.

xxxx

The subsequent days were filled with stress and mounting danger. Baxter continued to receive vicious emails and sadistic packages filled with fly parts. But he was also receiving a great deal of support from his friends and the viewers that loved him, and for that, he was very moved and grateful.

The police, the Turtles, and Barney were all trying, independent of each other, to learn the identity of the stalker. There was a piece of luck here, someone who remembered seeing the man there, but no one who could positively identify him. He never seemed to use the same name twice. Worse, he also never seemed to look exactly the same. One day he might have a mustache. The next day he wouldn't.

As the days counted down, the Turtles grew more determined to protect Baxter from any possible murder attempt the stalker might make. Baxter was frightened, and growing moreso as the week wound down. Although he couldn't blame the mysterious man for his anger, he certainly didn't intend to stand by and allow himself to be killed.

Neither did Barney. He had been working day and night to locate the vengeful character. He bluffed to Shredder and Krang, insisting he was working on the sub-electron amplifier, but in reality he hadn't touched anything involving it since the beginning of the week.

Vincent was worried for both of his dear friends. While he encouraged Barney to keep trying to find the man before he could carry out the final part of his twisted plot, Barney's increasing rage was causing Vincent to fear that Barney was going to outright snap before it was over. He wished again that he was physically capable of moving about on his own.

Then the week was down to the final day.

xxxx

Baxter was used to receiving the immature and heartless email by now, albeit he could never get used to the contents. When he awoke and checked his phone, the short message he found chilled his blood.

This is the day. You're going to die.

His hands shook as he set the phone down and got up to get ready for the day. He was still sure the man meant it. He was sure of it more with every day that went by. And he still feared death and dying. He wasn't ready for it! As much as he knew his friends were trying to protect him, he worried that something could still go wrong. Or what if one of them died instead of him?

Horrified, he peered into the living room to assure himself that all was well. Raphael, who had taken the overnight shift, was sprawled on the couch with a sai in hand. Baxter turned away, slumping against the bedroom wall.

"Please," he whispered. "I don't want to die. And I don't want someone to die in my place. Help. . . ."

He did feel what seemed to be a sensation of peace. He hoped it was for real and not just his imagination.

xxxx

The day passed with everyone on edge and tense. Barney, hard at work in his laboratory, wasn't about to give up for anything.

"What are you going to do if we just can't find anything?" Vincent asked.

"Then we're going topside to shadow Baxter," Barney retorted.

He was still accessing Baxter's email account without Baxter's knowledge to look over the harassing emails. It was just about the only lead of any kind that they had. And as they traced the most recent communication back to its source, Vincent gasped.

"Barney, this email was just sent! If we get up to that Internet cafe now, we might catch the person who sent it!"

Barney didn't need any further encouragement. He grabbed his laptop and ran for the main control room.

"Now where are you going?" Krang asked.

"For another part," Barney shot back. He ran to the console, typed in coordinates, and leaped through the portal. A transport would be too slow this time.

"This is madness!" Shredder cried, gesturing at the closing portal. "There's no way he opened a portal just to get a part!"

"Let's watch him on the screen," Krang said. "If nothing else, it should be very interesting."

xxxx

Baxter was highly tense as he prepared to leave work that night. Part of him hadn't wanted to go to work at all, but the thought of staying cooped up in his apartment all day waiting for someone to try to kill him hadn't appealed to him in the least. And so he had gone.

The Turtles had hoped he would be safe as long as he stayed in the building with people he knew all around. They had told him to call as soon as he was ready to leave, but now that he was, he couldn't seem to raise anyone on his Turtle-Comm to meet him. He wasn't crazy about waiting around at Channel 6, either. It was late and most people had gone home. The station was largely deserted, as it always was in the wee hours.

"Something isn't right," he muttered to himself. "Something . . ."

He trailed off as an unfamiliar security guard caught his eye and started to step towards him. "Hello, Dr. Stockman," he sneered in a mocking tone. "I said you would die tonight. I wasn't lying."

Baxter's eyes widened. "No. . . ." He backed up into the revolving door. "I know you're angry. I know what I did to you was unforgivable, but the Turtles reversed it! You could go back to your normal life! If you kill me, you won't have that chance!"

The guard started to reach for his gun. "I don't care."

Baxter screamed, fleeing through the door and letting it spin behind him. "Turtles! Splinter! Miss O'Neil! Someone, please come in!" He gripped his Turtle-Comm, his knuckles white. The only reason it wouldn't be working would be if the signal was being jammed. And as bullets flew overhead and around him, he couldn't reach for his phone. All he could do was desperately run.

xxxx

The portal came out in an Internet cafe in Midtown. Barney hurried to the nearest worker. "I need to know if a man who looked anything like this was just in here," he said, holding up the laptop with the displayed picture of the man from early in the week.

The girl frowned at it. "I guess maybe someone like that could have been around," she said slowly. "He kind of looks like a guy who just used a computer station, paid in cash, and left a few minutes ago."

"What direction did he take?" Barney demanded.

"I don't know, but I remember him saying something about fixing a fly problem at Channel 6."

All color drained from Barney's face. "Channel 6?"

"Yeah, I think so," she blinked. "Why?"

But Barney didn't answer. He turned and took off running. They weren't far from Channel 6, so maybe there was still a chance. Maybe. . . .

"Try to send Baxter an email," he told Vincent. "Maybe he hasn't left yet."

"I've already tried," Vincent cried. "He doesn't answer!"

Barney was absolutely not a praying man. Although he believed in God, he could not fathom that God could care about him after all he had done. He refused to pray for himself and didn't want anyone else to, either.

But he did pray for his brother as he ran.

xxxx

The Turtles were in the Van, heading for Channel 6. But Donatello, who was at the wheel, wasn't going fast enough for Michelangelo.

"Something's just not right," Michelangelo insisted. "You've gotta go faster, Donatello! Baxter's not answering his Turtle-Comm!"

"I'm going at the speed limit right now!" Donatello retorted.

"Baxter wouldn't leave the station without us," Leonardo frowned.

"So you think something would actually happen there?" Raphael raised an eyebrow. "We didn't figure we had to stay there the whole time he was there today. Anyway, we got a little sidetracked trying to stop Bebop and Rocksteady from robbing that factory."

"We've gotta get there, Dudes!" Michelangelo cried. "Something is totally wrong here!"

When Raphael's Turtle-Comm rang, he immediately opened it. "Guys!" April wailed. "Irma found one of our security guards unconscious in a closet!"

"What?!" Raphael burst out.

"He was hit with some kind of blunt instrument." April shuddered. "And he wasn't in uniform! Someone took it!"

"Someone like the nutcase who's after Baxter," Raphael said.

"And Baxter's not here!" April continued. "There's a bullet hole in the wall in the lobby!"

"I told you!" Michelangelo burst out. "Baxter's in trouble! Come on, Donatello, step on it!"

"If we get pulled over, we won't do Baxter any good," Donatello shot back. But he was gripping the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles were white.

xxxx

The gun was out of bullets now. But, undaunted, the man was still chasing his prey. Baxter flew over the sidewalk, desperate, panic-stricken, terrified of the death that was bearing down on him.

"Stop!" he begged. "Please! Why do you want to throw your life away?!"

"I've always hated mutants," the man snarled. "I knew they were bad news. I've fought against them ever since they first started popping up. Then you came along and turned me into a freak too! I'll never forgive you for that! Never!"

Baxter's clumsiness came out and he tripped, sprawling hard on the sidewalk. He choked out a moan of pain. He only barely caught sight of the shadow of what looked like a crowbar as he tried to push himself up.

"No," he whispered. "Not that. . . ." Unbidden to his mind flashed the image of him tearing through the Technodrome, frightened out of his mind as a rage-filled Barney chased him, swinging an object just like that.

"Stay down, like the reject you are." The man kicked him in the ribs. "I'm going to beat you to death. You're such a weak little man, it'll be like crushing you."

Baxter sobbed, throwing his arms over his head. "Please don't," he choked out. "Please. . . ."

Then there were running footsteps and the sound of something being laid in the grass nearby. The strike never came. Shaking violently, Baxter slowly looked up to see what had stopped it.

He was greeted by the sight of a white lab coat matching his own. Barney had arrived and jumped in front of him. His eyes crazed and his strength abnormally more than usual, he ripped the weapon out of the shocked assailant's hands and swung it at him. "Leave my brother alone!"

Baxter gasped in shock. "Barney!" He scrambled to his feet.

The attacker stumbled back, troubled by being stopped by someone who looked almost identical to the man he was trying to murder. "Who are you?!" he demanded.

Barney advanced on him, continuing to swing the crowbar as he spoke. "I just told you, didn't I?!" he shrieked. "It's all you need to know! You didn't know he had a brother, did you?!"

"You . . . you haven't been around," the fake security guard stammered as he backed up.

"I've been around!" Barney snarled. "You just haven't seen me! I've been on your trail all this week!" With every sentence, he swung the weapon again.

Baxter stared at Barney, disbelief mixing with the shock in his eyes. Barney had snapped again. But this time it wasn't directed at him. This time Barney was wielding a crowbar in Baxter's defense.

"Baxter, Barney has to be calmed down," Vincent exclaimed from the grass. "I knew something like this was going to happen! That man deserves anything Barney does to him. But I don't want Barney to suffer for doing it!"

"I don't either!" Baxter cried. He ran up from behind his enraged brother and desperately tried to pull his wrist back. "Barney, don't!" he pleaded. "You'll be arrested if you hurt him! And I don't want you to make an irreversible mistake!"

Barney pulled it free and swung the crowbar again. "What kind of a heartless monster are you?!" he roared. "Baxter was out of his mind when he hurt you! He barely even remembers what he did! But you're completely sane! You're sane and you want to bash his brains in!"

The man tripped and went down, terrified as he looked up at the wild protector. The crowbar swung again, closer to his head.

"Barney, please!" Baxter begged. "This isn't going to help!"

"I hate you!" Barney screamed. "Baxter never deliberately did anything to you! He was just trying to live his life! And you always hated him, always lashed out at him! You miserable, rotten, heartless . . ."

"Barney, now you're not making sense!" Baxter interrupted. "I did deliberately go after him! It's just that I didn't know what I was doing. And he didn't even know me before that incident! Right now you sound more like . . ." He fell back, his eyes widening. "You're talking about yourself," he whispered.

If Barney heard, he wasn't paying attention. He brought the crowbar down again and the man threw up his arms to protect his head. It glanced off his left arm. But Barney's rage was only continuing to build. He brought it down on the man's left shoulder and then his ribs, shrieking his hate all the while. "How could you always hurt him like he was the biggest scum known to mankind?! That wasn't him; it was you! It was always you! You worthless trash! He loved you! If you'd had any decency at all, you would have been grateful for him and treated him the way he deserved! You repulsive . . ."

At last Baxter managed to seize Barney's wrist and hold it in the air. "Barney, stop!"

Barney pulled free, seething. But for the moment, at least, he didn't try again to attack.

The man scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide in terror. Baxter looked to him, his eyes even and determined. "My brother was trying to protect me," he said. "And he's right that I was out of my mind when I hurt you. But I don't blame you for being angry with me. What I did to you was abominable. There's no excuse for it. For that reason, I won't press charges on you if you leave now and don't come back. However, if you try anything like this again, I will press charges."

Now Barney looked back at Baxter in shock and frustration. "No! You can't let him get away! He doesn't deserve it!"

"How can I fault him for lashing out the same way I did when I was hurting and angry at the world?" Baxter said quietly.

"It's not the same!" Barney insisted. "You were insane. Your mind wasn't even your own! But he knows exactly what he's doing!" He lunged. "He knows and he has to suffer for that!"

The man wasn't about to let Barney have the chance to hit him again. "I won't come back," he vowed. "Not with that insane attack dog of yours." And he limped down the street and around the corner . . . right into the arms of the Turtles as they arrived on the scene.

"Gotcha!" Raphael crowed. "You're not getting away with hurting our pal."

"No duh!" Michelangelo added.

The man struggled against them, but in vain. "Mutants," he said in horror. "I've been caught by mutants!"

"And you deserve it so much," Raphael said with dripping sarcasm.

They all jumped a mile at the outraged voice from around the corner.

"Come back here!" Barney screamed. "You have no right to get away! No right. . . ." He tried to run after the man, but he was too emotional. He tripped and went down.

"Barney!" Baxter exclaimed.

Barney stayed on his knees, shaking, roaring after the vanished man. "You tried to murder my brother! I won't forgive you for it!" The crowbar dropped from his hand and clattered to the sidewalk. "You tried to murder him! There's no forgiveness for you! No forgiveness!" He dug his hands into his hair. "No forgiveness. . . ."

Baxter's heart was pierced. The deeper object of Barney's rage was obvious. Baxter knelt down next to him, reaching out a hand to the quaking shoulder. "Barney, it's alright. I'm alright. Please don't do this to yourself."

"I hate myself!" Barney screamed. "I tried to murder you just like he did! There's no forgiveness for him. There's no forgiveness for me!" He jerked away from Baxter. "It's not alright. It will never be alright! What kept you from dying that day?! Dumb luck?!"

"You didn't hit me hard enough to kill me," Baxter said softly. "Maybe because deep down, you already knew you didn't want to."

"You were in a coma for days because I hit you," Barney said bitterly.

Baxter rocked back in shock. "What?!"

"That's what your friends said."

"But I wasn't!" Baxter protested. "I was only unconscious for five, ten minutes! I woke up and I was alright!"

Barney straightened, looking to Baxter in disbelief. "Then . . . they lied to me? Why would they do that?"

"I don't know," Baxter said helplessly. "Maybe they felt badly that you acted unmoved and they wanted to see how you would react."

Barney's eyes darkened. "It doesn't make any difference. I still chased you. I still hit you! Even if I was so consumed by rage I wasn't clearly thinking about what I was doing, I had murder in my heart. Nothing else matters!" He picked up the crowbar and threw it as far as he could. "I used something just like that on you! I'm just as wretched as that man tonight. No . . . I'm worse. I knew you, but he didn't! I knew you and still I tried to kill you!" He looked away, violently trembling.

Baxter's eyes pricked with tears. "Oh Barney. . . ." He slowly reached out, then drew back. Did he dare? He had to try to calm his brother down somehow. But maybe Barney would just get angry or pull away. They were not physically affectionate and Barney never had been. Baxter had been too afraid of him to even try very much during their childhood. But as he stared at the tortured soul his brother had become, he realized that his earlier words to Michelangelo was true: he wasn't afraid now. One of Barney's deepest-held demons was what had happened that day on the Technodrome. He wouldn't hurt Baxter any more.

Again Baxter reached out, this time drawing Barney into an embrace. "Barney, it is alright," he said firmly, laying a hand in the wild red hair that was now longer than his own brown mane. "Barney, I . . ." He prayed for strength . . . and for the words he wanted to say to be true. And as he spoke, he realized they were. "I forgive you."

Barney stiffened. "No," he protested. "No, don't forgive me! I don't deserve it. I don't. . . ."

"Those who think they don't, need it the most," Baxter said quietly. "You're my brother. I love you. And yes, I do forgive you."

Barney didn't protest again, although Baxter was sure his feelings hadn't changed. But instead he trembled, leaning into Baxter's embrace. As Baxter continued to hold him, gently stroking his hair, he could feel Barney start to relax. He was calming down.

Maybe that was the best Baxter could hope for right now. Barney certainly wasn't ready to forgive himself. Maybe he never would be. But, knowing that he had truly forgiven Barney, Baxter felt a new sense of peace.

"You saved my life tonight," Baxter spoke again. "You came when I needed you the most."

Barney grunted. "I almost didn't make it."

"But you did," Baxter said firmly. "Thank you, Barney, for everything you did to try to help me this week. You probably did more than I even realize."

Neither of them realized they were being observed. The Turtles were standing at the corner with their prisoner, staring at the scene.

"Well, Raphael, what do you think of Barney now?" Michelangelo asked.

". . . I'm glad to know being a slimeball affects him so much," Raphael said. "I just wonder if he feels the same about what he did to you."

"He does, Dude," Michelangelo said softly. "Trust me on that."

Raphael looked away. "We'd better haul this creep in to the nearest police station. Even if Baxter feels he has no right to press charges, we can get him for assaulting that security guard."

"And Baxter might change his mind once he hears about that," Donatello added.

"Good idea," Leonardo said. "We'll take this guy in and come back after that. I think those two need this time alone."

But the Turtles were not the only ones who had witnessed Barney's outburst. Deep in the Technodrome, Shredder and Krang stared at the transdimensional screen with mixed feelings, none of them good.

"Well," said Krang, "this is certainly a new development."

"What do you think of that, Krang?!" Shredder snarled. "All this time you've thought that Barney hated his brother! Instead, he went ballistic on that citizen for trying to kill him! Not to mention he's shown that he's never gotten over what he did to Baxter himself!"

"Actually, it's quite impressive that he managed to hide his pain and self-hatred all this time," Krang remarked. "I honestly had no idea."

"Don't tell me you still trust him!" Shredder fumed.

"I'm not going to give up on him because he loves his brother," Krang retorted. "I already thought he might. But . . ." He smiled. "I'll just give him a little test to see how he feels on . . . other matters."

"Oh?" Shredder raised an eyebrow. "What, exactly, are you going to do?"

"You'll see," Krang warbled.

xxxx

April arrived on the scene within five minutes with the police. Baxter and Barney both looked up, startled by the new vehicles.

"I'll have to go," Barney said. He got up and ran back for his laptop.

"Barney, there's nothing they can charge you with!" Baxter protested.

"I was with Shredder and Krang on that live newsfeed," Barney retorted. "They would consider me guilty by association, if nothing else."

"Baxter?" Vincent looked up at him as Barney lifted the laptop. "I'm glad you're alright. And that you were able to help Barney."

"I meant every word I said," Baxter said. He looked to both of them. "Please be careful."

"We will." Barney turned to go. "I still say you're a fool. But . . . thank you." He vanished into the night.

Baxter turned back when he heard footsteps approaching. "Dr. Stockman, are you alright?!" April exclaimed. "That man hurt one of our security guards to steal his uniform!"

Baxter's eyes widened. "What?!" He looked sickened. "I was willing to let him go if I was the only one he hurt, but . . ."

"That's the thing about nutcases like that," said Raphael as he came up beside April. "There's never just one person who gets hurt."

Baxter looked down. "I don't know what the right thing is to do," he said quietly. "I wanted him stopped, of course. That's why I went to the police in the first place. But when I saw him and Barney stopped him, I told him I wouldn't press charges if he didn't try again to kill me. I didn't think I had the right to press charges, considering all the things I did that I wasn't arrested for."

"You didn't deserve it," April said softly. "Not in your state of mind when you did those things. This man will have to go through some tests, but I'm afraid he's sane and possibly even evil."

"And a charge of attempted murder would probably put him away longer than assault and battery," Donatello said as he approached.

"I . . ." Baxter shook his head. "I'll have to think about it."

"Well, you have time," April said kindly. "The assault charge will definitely put him away for now."

Baxter watched as the police loaded him in their car. "He must have found a way to jam my Turtle-Comm signal. I couldn't get it to work. . . ."

"The police found a lot of weird technical doodads on him," Raphael said. "He probably works for one of the big corporations in town."

"I'll look at your Turtle-Comm and see if I can get it to work again," Donatello said. "I'm sure the damage isn't permanent."

"I hope it isn't." Baxter looked to the police, who were now approaching him. "Officers, I imagine that man hit the security guard with a crowbar he tried to use on me. When you find it, my brother's fingerprints will be on it as well. He . . . he saved my life tonight."

"We'll keep that in mind," one of the policemen replied. "But where is your brother? If he's a material witness to what happened, he should have stuck around."

"I . . . he . . . he's leery of the police because he's been arrested before," Baxter finally stammered. It was the truth, just not the entire truth. "And neither of us saw the security guard get hurt."

"You're pressing charges, aren't you?" the second officer frowned.

"I . . . I don't know." Baxter looked away. "I didn't feel I had the right, given the unique circumstances, but . . ."

"Well, just tell your brother that he'll be needed to testify regardless," the first officer said.

"I will," Baxter said quietly.

April laid a hand on his shoulder. "You must be exhausted, Dr. Stockman. I'll have to go to the station and make my statement about finding the security guard, but maybe the Turtles can take you home."

"Sure! That's what we were coming for," Michelangelo said. "Are you really okay, Baxter?"

Baxter gave him a tired smile. "Yes, I am. It's over. It's really over. And I feel . . . I feel like such a burden has been lifted from my chest. Not just that I don't have to fear for my life anymore. . . . Actually, that's secondary compared to the other. I finally realized that I have forgiven Barney."

"Good for you," Raphael said. "Of course, no one would blame you if you didn't. He doesn't deserve it."

"He feels so horrible, Raphael," Baxter said as they started to walk to the Turtle Van. "You didn't see him tonight, trying to defend me, screaming his hatred of the man who was attacking me . . . and then shifting to screaming his hatred of himself for how he's hurt me. He may never forgive himself."

"If he wasn't so messed-up in the first place, he never would have hurt you," Raphael retorted.

"And what caused him to get so 'messed-up'?" Baxter countered. "So many factors, not all of them his fault. Barney may not have actually cracked up like I did, but that doesn't mean that there isn't reason to feel some sympathy or pity for what went wrong in his life. We have both suffered, not just I."

"I guess," Raphael grunted. "I sure don't feel any sympathy or pity for him."

"It would be hard for you to understand, coming from a happy family unit, but neither Barney nor I were happy at all in ours," Baxter said softly. "It affected us in different ways, but it most assuredly affected us both."

Raphael gave a noncommittal shrug. "He's your brother, though. You're expected to love him."

"Expected?" Baxter echoed. "Raphael, do you think I care about what I'm 'expected' to do?"

Raphael froze. "No, of course not," he conceded.

Baxter nodded. "Maybe I have always loved him simply because he is my brother. But it was never because it was expected of me. Love doesn't work that way. And lately, I have truly started to see the good in him. Maybe I always did and that was also a factor."

"Maybe," Raphael said. "Well, it's good that someone can forgive him, I guess. I never will."

"I don't know," Michelangelo spoke up. "We've all started to see the good in him. I don't think forgiveness is truly out of the question, even from you, Raphael."

Raphael frowned. "I can't think of one thing that would make me feel different about him. Anyway, let's go home."

Leonardo got into the Turtle Van and released the doors to let the others in. They climbed aboard and soon Leonardo was pulling away to head back to Baxter's apartment.

Baxter sighed, leaning against the seat as he stared out at the street. So much had happened out there on that piece of sidewalk. He had nearly been killed. Barney had saved him. Barney had revealed more of his deep-seated loathing of himself. Baxter had realized he had forgiven him.

Would Barney find any semblance of peace because of that? Or would he only continue to be angry and confused because of feeling he absolutely did not deserve it?

Baxter didn't know. He hoped he would see Barney again soon and be able to determine if he was feeling any better. For now, Baxter said a silent prayer of thanks that all had turned out well and no one had died.