Raphael had watched Amber from across the room, partly reluctant to approach her while she worked. Partly terrified – and entirely resentful of that always unfamiliar and unwelcome emotion. Mostly dealing with the confusing torrent of emotions that raged beneath his plastron.

When Leonardo had told him about his encounter with Amber, it had been several weeks after the fact. It had taken his brother that long to decide whether or not he should say anything. That caused enough contention on its own – they were long past the time Leonardo had any business trying to "protect" him and the two had had it out in a way they hadn't for years. But he had also been unprepared for the impact even just hearing her name would have on him, the barrage of feeling it recalled.

It had sent him into a brooding temper that lasted several days – something else he had all but left behind. Long hours spent in his room, musing uncomfortably and bitterly on the past. Longer hours in the dogo, pummelling the life out of the punching bags until he was drenched in sweat and each breath dragged painfully from his lungs and his body was so taut with exhaustion and pain he could only collapse into sleep.

At first he'd thought – fuck her. She'd walked out on him. Leaving him to wonder if she had ever cared about him at all. Leaving him to never be quite sure if she was alive or dead – and towards the end the latter had been a constantly looming spectre that had filled him with a dread that every time he entered her squat it would be to find her body. Now she was cleaned up and feeling bad about what she'd done? Good. Let her stew. Let her feel bad. Let it eat away at her forever, for all he cared. She deserved it.

But in amongst all that old pain rubbed suddenly raw, there were the sweeter memories, of the good times. How, for a while, they had found a solace and a comfort in each other they had both thought – and at such tender ages – was never to be theirs. Two freaks together against the world. Even if that hadn't been entirely true, it had felt that way. Remembering Amber at that time was immensely bitter sweet, knowing he had seen her a way no one else ever had. She was always so outwardly cynical and sardonic, dispassionate and defiant. But when they were alone together, as they grew closer, she became unexpectedly sweet and vulnerable, dropping her tough girl act and revealing a tenderness and silliness that was his and his alone. With him she had been what she truly was at heart – a girl barely out of her teens, who wanted to have fun, who wanted to love, who wanted happiness. She'd spent so long denying this to herself, and he'd spent so long convincing himself he would never know what it felt like to be loved, that for a little while it had seemed like they discovered the world and all its secrets together. It made his heart ache.

Shadow had missed him and sought him out, pushing open the door of his room in a child's attempt at stealth, thinking the creaking would go unnoticed if she just moved the door slowly enough, and he'd half-smiled despite himself.

"Hey kiddo," he said from where he was lying on his hammock, the room dark except for the twilight glow that dribbled in through the windows, one palm still pressed against his face, against the pain of recollection that throbbed through him.

She padded quickly across the room, her four year old feet in slipless socks, and when she'd got to his hammock he'd reached down with one arm and scooped her up easily, enjoying the way she giggled – he recalled vaguely being so small still that Splinter could hoist him with similar ease, and how it had always been just a little bit fun – and let her squirm and wiggle around on his plastron until she was comfortable, the heat from her body absorbing wonderfully into his. He stroked her hair idly and in the closeness of her, that fragile little human who trusted him so absolutely, he was comforted. This was what it was all about.

"Why are you sad, Uncle Raphie?" she asked him and he sighed heavily, feeling her rise and fall with his plastron.

"Just takin' a walk down memory lane," he replied and she giggled and lifted her head, looking up at him with the amusement that could only be found on the face of a child when an adult had said something completely nonsensical.

"But you're lying down!" she pointed out in a 'duh, silly' voice, her mouth all full of gapped baby teeth and he couldn't help grinning back.

"Zat so?" he countered and in one swift powerful movement he leapt to his feet, tossing her into the air at the same moment so that she shrieked in delight. He caught her securely and threw her up once more then realised April would hang him out to dry if he got her worked up this close to bedtime and held her giggling form close against his plastron, leaving the dark sadness of his room for the bright, cheeriness of the hallway.

"C'mon kiddo, show me what you been workin' on at school."

Later, he felt grounded once more, the uncomplicated sweetness of her child's world bringing him back firmly into the present and counting his many blessings. Nothing could take that away. If he went and saw Amber again, no matter what happened, his family would be here and waiting for him afterwards.

So he'd made his decision.

But no matter how much he thought he'd mentally prepared himself, how, as he had arranged the time off work, packed the few things he needed and set off on his journey, he had hardened his resolve and vowed that he would be impassive and unaffected, the sight of her had swept through those resolutions like a tsunami, dashing them all away.

Leonardo had told him how she had changed but he was still floored to see it for himself. Leaning up against the bar in an expensive-looking pearly white dress that caught what little light there was and made her stand out, she seemed healthy and vibrant. She had some meat on her bones. There was a curve to her figure that had never been there before. The dark circles were gone from under her eyes and the hollows in her cheeks had filled out. Her hair was styled and groomed and with makeup on she seemed glamorous and lovely. As far a cry from the painfully thin, unkempt, ugly little wretch decked out in children's clothes acquired from the Good Will as could be.

Raphael hovered near the wall, unnoticed by the jumbled assortment of patrons in the bar, and watched as she smiled at the triceraton, and for a sickening instant it was just as it had been seventeen years ago – her working the streets of New York while he watched over her from the shadows.

The unwelcome wave of nostalgia was almost too much for him and he sagged against the wall as his stomach churned violently and he hated it, hated himself for being there and hated her for making him feel this way – this weak and this vulnerable – when he hadn't even spoken to her yet.

He'd come so far in all that time. He'd done so much, changed so much. He was no longer that frustrated, rageful kid who had tried to solve the burden of emotions he didn't know how to manage with his fists, who had been so quick to anger and lash out at his family, troubled by an existence that seemed like it would be forever on the margins. Amber had been witness to the worst of that. It had been to her he'd confided when at his most turbulent. He'd given her his heart when he'd always sworn to never be so foolish, and she'd crushed it.

But he wasn't that kid anymore. He'd known heartache – even caused a little of his own – since her. There had been dozens of battles, terrible obstacles to overcome. He'd always be a hothead but he had so much more control over his temper. His contentious relationships with his brothers had resolved, matured and deepened. He'd learned to open up with them – to a point, anyway – and not to dwell so much in maudlin, furious thoughts.

Goddamnit, he shouldn't feel so fucking weak like this. He was too old for this shit.

He was furious at the apprehension he felt but more furious at the cowardly thought that followed – to turn heel and leave. That moment of disturbingly tempting gutlessness was enough to root him to the spot, determined to see this through – nothing could be so bad as knowing he'd been a spineless wimp, skulking out after he'd come all this way. It would be too much like what she had done to him and whilst turn-about might be fair play, he was no coward.

And when a moment later Amber, all too clearly distressed, backed away from her saurian mark and fumbled into the crowd, he did not resist the way his emotions focused into automatic concern and went after her, ignoring how that too seemed an echo from the past.

ooo

To be continued…