A semi-reply to my old story 'Frostbitten' because I'm a jerk like that and reply to my own works.

But really, I felt like writing this one after reading a few of the Mirage comics again. So, for those who don't know, Radical is a Native American superhero who befriends the turtles and, in a series of events which apparently happen without being shown in the comics, becomes Leonardo's true love, soul mate.

TMNT © Viacom
Story © Turtlefreak121

Firebird

We stand in a foot, maybe a foot and a half, of cold snow. The chill is literally racing through my veins and lulling me to a tired state. But I remain erect, quiet, mournful. I draw from her strength just as she draws from my own.

I need her warmth and reasoning. She needs my emotional strength and reassurance as we stand where so many had died beforehand.

Her people stood once before and still stand today beneath her feet with mourning, with loss. Their grabbing spirits overwhelm Radical and she draws back for a minute but I'm here. I grab onto her arms and I help her keep her footing.

She does not look at me. I respect her desire to remain unattached to the physical world and let her go.

There has always been a fear in the back of my mind that she would completely detach herself from the physical realm and, again, return to the Dreamscape. She had stayed there for months once, battling her rival Complete Carnage. In that world she was with her ancestors, completely guided by serenity, nature, and spirituality at its finest. While her time there was in battle it was also rejuvenating.

Radical was a much stronger and deeper person the second time I saw her, after the Dreamscape. I always worry that she will long for that spirituality again.

"There is a legend of my people that transcends from this very mound, Leonardo," she says, not looking to me still. "It was of the Firebird's last cry."

Her people mean everything to Radical. I realize that, in this pinnacle of her soul's connection with the ancestors, her sharing any of this with me is an honorific pleasure unlike any she's ever given to another.

"And why did the Firebird cry?" I ask both out of curiosity and respect. "Was it because he was dying?"

"No," she responds before quieting. She closes her eyes as another wintery gust brushes against us, nearly tipping me over in my sluggish state. Yet even in my distraction, I hear through our shared heart the calling out from the graves: the sounds of Radical's people long since past.

Curiosity is overwhelming me. "Why is the Firebird crying?" I try again.

"Because his soul is in two pieces," Radical expresses before turning to me, I see the crystalline water glazing her perfect, dark eyes. "The Firebird is torn away from the land, his home. The Firebird would rather die than leave without his heart which he buried in the winter snow."

I glance over the Massachusetts landscape and can feel the throbbing in my feet. The beating of the heart is still there, tremoring. The ground mourns for the Firebird as well.

"Is that why your people fought to stay?" I ask, knowing the answer.

"Some yes," she responds. "Others no. They found their hearts and knew that they could live again, but only in some ways. They would no longer know the rocks and trees or the wolves and eagles. But they had their heart and could hide it again."

"And why did they hide their hearts still if there is a chance that they could be separated again?" I continue as I near her, rubbing her shoulders gently to warm her in the frigid weather. "Didn't they fear ending up like the Firebird?"

"Because they had a new home that they could take with each other," Radical responds as she gently pulls her hands up from hugging herself. They warmly grace my cheeks with their presence and I focus on her dark eyes, watching the stories unfold within them. "They found that their heart could remain with others so long as they could find the one they shared their soul with."

I stare into her eyes more, never once looking away. "Has your heart found a home?"

Gently, she coiled into my arms and I held her warm body as she leaned on me to stay upright. I stroke her hair instinctively.

"Yes," she finally says, "my heart's home is in you."

...