A/N: Denka = Highness, Your Grace
Monsuta = Monster
Akuma = devil or fiend
CHAPTER 2 – Bleeding Out Inside
The floor was littered with the small uneven petals. Pastel yellow, delicate pinks, icy white, crimson deep as blood, they were everywhere. They danced along the floor with each step she took with her bare feet. The bouquets of dozens of roses decorated every stand in her room. Where there was no available flat surface to place them on, the soldiers had set them carefully all around the expansive room on the hardwood floor. The long stems burst from glass vases that stood as tall as her waist. The petals fell like rain as she walk past them, absentmindedly running her palm over the soft flower tops causing the cascade to tumble and silently scatter.
She took a deep breath. Her room smelled like a florist shop. Or a funeral. It wasn't unpleasant. Not really. Nothing in her life right now was unpleasant. Ever since the snowy night just over a year ago, when vengeance lay within her grasp, his throat vulnerable and exposed, waiting for her to plunge the wicked prongs of the sai into his throat . . . and did she act? Did she bring justice to her brother's murderer? No. She was weak. She failed him. Tyler. And her reward for this cowardice was splendor and excessive comfort like she had never even dreamed of before. It was like a waking dream that she drifted through. Life had become surreal. Nothing was hard anymore. No more struggles. She had everything.
Deborah caught her reflection in the tall mirrors that lined one side of her suite. Her long blond hair hung limply down the sides of her shoulders, her face white and drawn. A wraith in a black sleeveless turtle-neck halter top and form-fitting dark jeans that hugged the curve of her hips. A vacant gaze stared back from large empty eyes.
She promised herself that she would seek the justice her brother deserved. But instead she wallowed in luxury. Allowing herself to be sought after and courted by a man that was like no other she'd ever met. He was no ordinary man. He was an emperor of an invisible kingdom. A demon. With all the lithe beauty, charisma and mesmerizing charm possessing of one. And she was finding herself more and more drawn to him. And though they had hardly even spoken to each other, he filled her thoughts and dominated most of her dreams. Most, not all. A few, precious few, remained free. And he claimed the spotlight in those. The other one. Her special friend. But she could not doubt the fact that she was as enchanted by Oroku Saki as a child is by a clever illusion.
Loathing filled her. "You make me sick," she spoke to her reflection through gritted teeth.
Slowly, she reached out and wrapped her hands around a slim vase; lifted it, and heaved it with a scream across the room into the mirror sporting her reflection. It erupted into an explosion of shattered glass, petals, leaves and a spray of sparkling water. Deborah stood; panting, shaking. The chamber door swung open and several Foot soldiers rushed in. The private guard that were tasked with serving her. For a moment, they froze, casting about for any threat. Seeing nothing but the wreckage of the flowers and only Deborah standing there, they dropped to their knees.
"Denka, we heard a disturbance."
"Get out," she sneered in a frigid voice.
They exchanged glances then stood in one swift motion. Without another word they fled from her sight. The door snapped quietly closed. Deborah dropped to the floor with a dry sob, wrapping her hands over her head and wished the tears that burned and blinded her would finally fall. She balled her fist and punched the floor. She couldn't breathe. The perfumed air felt heavy and stifling. It filled her lungs with heady scent that made her feel sick and drowsy. She needed to get out of here before she fell asleep and suffocated.
Deborah raised her head. She wiped the side of her face with the heel of her hand. She knew what she wanted. Who she wanted. Climbing to stand, she crossed the room and slid open one of the mirrored doors to one of her multiple closets. Crouching, she grabbed her knee-high leather boots and her matching gray jacket. She threw the items on and pulled open the door. The soldiers straightened in attention.
"I'm going out."
They moved to follow. She spun around.
"I don't need an escort for this."
"But Denka–"
She ground her teeth as she held up her hand to silence them. "Do I need to tell Saki that the men he assigned me don't know how to obey orders?" The mention of their master's name had the effect she wanted. They visibly cringed and backed off. Then they bowed deeply.
"Forgive us."
She turned and headed towards the elevator. She punched the button and crossed her arms. A swirl of guilt pulled at her stomach. Maybe it was wrong. So much of her life was wrong. She ran her hands through her hair as the door opened with a soft ding. If she could just see him again, maybe she'd find her balance. He would ground her and remind her who she was.
Raph stared at the mug in front of his brother. He really wished he could stomach coffee. This morning he could use the caffeine boost. He was exhausted from a night of tossing and turning. The early start with his father freaking out did not help. But it never sat right with his stomach whenever he tried it. It only gave him a bad case of heart burn. He grimaced and rubbed his groggy face roughly. Mikey appeared next to Donatello and slid a plate of breakfast across the table to him. Raph stared at the scrambled eggs and toast. He mumbled his thanks and picked up his fork. Before he could take a bite, Leo entered the kitchen. Raph froze and everyone's face snapped to the eldest of them. Leo took hold of the back of the chair and pulled it back, then sat heavily into it.
"He's asleep . . . finally."
They were silent for a moment before Michelangelo spoke. "What do you think set him off? A bad dream?"
He placed another plate of eggs in front of Donatello then turned back to the stove. It had been a relatively quiet week without an incident from Splinter. Most days he spent watching television and murmuring incoherent things to himself. It was the longest stretch yet without any problems. Everyone had secretly hoped that they had turned a corner in his recovery at long last. But then last night . . .
Don exchanged a knowing look with Leo but said nothing as his brother quickly swept his gaze away. Could his nightmare have had something to do with Splinter's setback? His face paled to a sickly light shade of green and Donatello caught it. "I . . . I'm not really sure," Leo answered honestly.
Raphael pushed his plate away, food untouched. "Isn't there somethin' we can do to help him get over this? I mean, it's been a year of this shit. When's he gettin' better?" He turned a pleading look towards Donatello who shifted uncomfortably where he sat.
"We've been over this, Raph. When the . . . the, uh . . ." No one noticed how Leonardo dropped his gaze swiftly away from Donatello and fumbled with his fingers nervously as he brought up the Mistress. "Um . . . that golden woman blasted Master Splinter he . . ." Donnie glanced around, nervous that they'd stop him or challenge his story despite the fact that they never had before, Donatello still had doubts about what he'd seen and experienced that day. "He . . . looked like he was transformed back to his human form. It only lasted a few minutes, before I . . . she grabbed me, then I couldn't see what was happening with him. He was behind me. But from the time that I was pulled away from Sensei to the time Leo stabbed her, it couldn't have been more than ten minutes at the most." Donatello shrugged and stared at the cooling coffee before him. "The next thing we know, he was normal again. Er, I mean, a rat . . . again."
"That still doesn't explain why he's," Raph's jaw worked as he struggled with the right words. He dropped his voice into nearly a whisper, "Why he's messed up in the head."
"Raph," Mikey complained and crossed his arms, spatula in hand.
Raph slammed his hands down on the table and stood up. Frustrated and feeling helpless. "What? It's true, right? He ain't been normal since then." He kicked back his chair and started to pace. "Christ, what's it gonna take?"
"I examined him thoroughly afterwards, Raph. If you're thinking that he had some cranial injury or brain damage from the impact of his head against the wall . . . I don't think so."
"Then why?" Mikey asked.
Donatello blinked and pushed his mug away. "I don't know, okay?" he snapped. It was his turn to stand up. He ran a hand over his face as his brothers watched him turn and place his mug into the sink. He leaned his weight against the edge of the metal sink. His shoulders dropped. He turned to face them.
"Maybe it's mental or emotional trauma. It has to be psychological. I mean, think guys. It's simple. If we were once normal, human, and then were mutated into this . . ."
His brothers stared at him. An expression of hurt, shame and fury on each of their faces in turn. Donatello stopped what he was about to say. He clamped his mouth shut. He backtracked and cleared his throat.
"The, uh, the only thing I can think of is that the shock did it. The emotional and mental shock of getting a chance to be normal once more only for it to be snatched away from him again so quickly . . ." he shook his head and glanced up at them with his brown eyes.
Leonardo dropped his head and his throat worked. "I . . . I had no choice. I-I had to take my chance to stop her, Donnie," he said in a very small strained voice.
The sound of it set Raphael's teeth on edge. Here we go. If it wasn't his father acting like a complete nut-job and running through the lair night and day tearing out his fur in bloody clumps, it was his brother acting like he had to carry weight of the world on his shoulders and it was his solemn duty to do so. As if none of them had any problems they were struggling with themselves. Scars that refused to heal properly after what they'd gone through last year. Leo wasn't the only one suffering from their father's dementia and the shadows of the days spent in the clutches of the Foot.
Raph was sick of it. He was sick and tired of Leo stalking around here like a ghost afraid of his own shadow. Sick of feeling lost and helpless. Sick of his father not knowing where he was or why he was a mutant freak. Sick of having to explain over and over again that he and they were not monsters out of some B-horror film when part of Raph thought that was exactly what they were. Freaks. Just like what Donatello was about to admit to all of them. He huffed. Who were they kidding here?
But most of all, he was sick of the lingering heartache that just would not ease. Aching stubbornly and stupidly for something so out of reach it might as well have been the moon he yearned to possess. Someone he didn't deserve and could never be with anyway. After all this time he should've been over her. That was the worst part of it. He wasn't some sappy moon-eyed kid, moping and sulking after a dead-end crush. No, he dealt with things head on. Even if it hurt. Even if it wounded and left scars. He'd deal with it and move on. End of story. And yet here he was, still thinking about her. Still wanting her. At least he kept it to himself.
His brother was different. His brother wallowed in second guessing and guilt. Constantly. He made sure everyone saw how depressed he was and it was almost like he got a twisted kick from it. Why else would he keep up the act? What kind of leader was that? Raphael ground his teeth as he looked from Donatello to Leonardo. A leader should move the team forward. They needed Leo's guidance and leadership, now more than ever. He should pull himself together and get over whatever it was fuckin' with his head and help them. Not linger in the self-destructive power of doubt and guilt. It made him sick.
Donatello raised his hands bracingly. "N-No, Leo, I wasn't trying to say-"
"Perfect!" Raph erupted. "Just what we need." Raph indicated Leo with both hands. His building rage at the helplessness he felt found a target to unload on. "Guilt-boy over here taking on the spotlight. Let's hear it. C'mon Leo, explain how this is all your fault. How Sensei's mental illness is now something we should feel bad for you about." He shook his head in disgust. "Why don't we stop what we're doin' and have a pity party for your sorry ass. That'll get us to fixin' Master Splinter."
Donatello dropped his face into his palm. Just what they needed. Another fight.
Mikey threw a pile of dishes into the sink. "C'mon, Raph. Don't put this on Leo just cuz you're pissed."
"Who asked you, Mikey? Why do you think he mopes around the lair all day? He acts like he's the only one that cares about Splinter. He wants us to feel sorry for 'em." He narrowed his eyes at Leo who sat staring at his hands before him on the table. "Ain't that right, Fearless?" he hissed.
"This isn't helping anything, Raph," Don tried to reason.
The familiar anger was building and it felt good to unleash it somewhere on something. He pointed at Leo, took two steps and jabbed him in the shoulder. His voice dropped low and threatening, "You never told us what happened on that roof 'cuz nothing happened. You got roughed up and decided to use that as an excuse to be weak."
There was a collective gasp from his brothers. Leo's face snapped up. Face darkened with fury. He stood. The chair fell back with a clatter from the force. Raph moved his legs and feet and brought his fists up to fight without realizing he'd even moved. Heart pounding, veins racing with adrenaline. And still his mouth rambled on, "Some leader. Cryin' and moanin' over some bad dreams. That's right, I heard ya. Your whinin' probably woke Master Splinter and set him off."
Leo's fury was replaced with a flushed look that colored his cheeks a deep pink. His eyes widened as his mouth gaped. He took a small step away from Raph.
"I got some advice for ya. Get over it already you fuckin' baby."
Leo's fist whipped out and struck him across the jaw before he realized Leo had reacted. Raph was thrown to the side to the floor. Leo jumped on top of him with a snarl. A volley of blows rained down on Raph's face as he brought his arms up to block.
Each flash of pain, Raph accepted; welcomed it; fighting, feeling pain, at least was doing something. Besides, he knew he went too far. Leo had nearly died after what he went through on that roof. But he never talked about it. Another thing that Raph held against him. Leo didn't trust him enough to tell him what happened. He wasn't a good enough a brother to be trusted as a pillar of understanding and support. Raph knew he deserved every punch.
Mikey pulled Leo off of Raph. He bucked and struggled, but Mikey held him fast. They fell backwards. Leo thrashed. "That's enough, Leo!" With eyes closed, Leo, panting, collected himself. "Dammit, Raph. Why do you have to be such a jerk?"
Raph sat up and wiped at the blood covering his snout and chin with the heel of his hand. The momentary relief he'd felt when being beaten was wearing off to a dull swirling pool of regret. I dunno, little brother, he thought grimly. Everything was fucked up. And as usual, he was only making things worse. The air around him shrunk and strangled him. He was suffocating from their anger and disgust. It mingled with his own self-loathing and grew like a giant constrictor around his chest. He had to get out of there. On wobbly legs he stood and crossed the room in rigid strides.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Don snapped, incredulous.
"Out," he growled.
Don moved to stop him when Leo raised his hand. The exit to the lair slammed closed as he left. "Let him go. I . . . I need to have a little breathing room from him." Mikey patted Leo on the shoulder from behind him. Leo sat forward and Mikey slid back, then scooted next to his big brother; sitting cross-legged.
"He's just pissed about everything. He didn't mean what he said, Leo." He paused, looked up at Don. "No one thinks you went through nothin'," Mikey said using Raphael's way of describing the events of what happened to him on the roof. "Even if you still don't wanna tell us what happened. We know it was bad."
Leonardo met Donatello's concerned face. He saw the questions there in his eyes. Still there. Wanting to know. Even after he'd hoped they'd just let it go. He'd told April about what he'd gone through at the hands of the Mistress. He never wanted to relive that again. He promised himself he never would. He couldn't bear the thought of his brothers knowing how she . . . took him. How his body betrayed him in the most humiliating way as it reacted to her touch. The terror, the pain, and the shameful, unimaginable pleasure that she made him feel haunted him still. If he were to be really honest with himself . . . in the deepest recess of the shadows of his mind and heart, what really frightened him was how much he desperately yearned for her. Like a long-term recovering addict craves the heroin missing in his system.
Suddenly, an ear-splitting shriek came from Master Splinter's room.
"Oh, man. Not again," Mikey sighed as Leo wearily climbed to his feet. He stumbled forward then hurried and dashed towards his father's room just as Master Splinter emerged, naked and ripping at his fur; babbling and shouting in fright.
"Help! What has happened to me?! Please, help me! Help me!" His face rose up and when he saw Leonardo he shrunk away until he fell onto his back. "No! Akuma! Monsuta! Do not touch me! Help!" he bellowed.
Leo dropped to the floor. He heard Michelangelo and Donatello's feet approaching only to stop behind him. He inched towards his Sensei who backed away, digging his heels into the floor in desperation to get away from him. Leo's voice trembled despite his attempt at sounding calm and placating, "No father. No. It's alright. It's me, Leonardo. I-I'm not a d-demon. I-I'm your son-" his throat caught on the last word making it crack. As he crawled towards Splinter, he felt two hot tears break free and roll down his face. His family was coming apart at the seams and he didn't know how to hold them together. Raph was right, he was weak.
And last night . . . last night she had him. The Mistress had found him. He thought she was banished from his life; from his nightmares. It had been so long since he'd dreamt of her. She was dead. He killed her. But there was nothing remaining of her here. No proof of her destruction. What if his sword merely banished her back to the realm she came from? Last night would just be the beginning. A tremor of fear ran through him with the thought.
Raph's words tumbled through his mind, 'Get over it already, you fuckin' baby.' Leo dropped his face as more tears followed the first two and his shoulders shook. If only he were stronger, maybe he could.
A/N: Reviews fill me with joy! :D Pretty please...
