Chapter Four

It took Baxter a few moments to get the courage to get up and slowly start out of the room. He was still not sure whether this was real or only in his mind, but the fact that he seemed to be somewhat dizzy upon standing made him start to think more strongly that maybe somehow, unbelievably, it actually was real.

He reached out, taking hold of the table to steady himself. Then, on a whim, he looked down at his hand. It was no longer grotesquely colored, just as he had discovered earlier. Nor did he have a second pair of arms that were far more fly-like in nature or feet that resembled the Turtles'.

"I'm me again," he whispered in awe. "I'm really and truly me!" He picked up the mirror, which Splinter had left on the table. "Welcome back, Baxter. You don't know how much I've missed you!"

Overwhelmed with growing delight, he laid the mirror down again and moved more quickly out of the room.

The Turtles and Splinter had gathered in the kitchen while Michelangelo and Splinter were each preparing different dishes. The others were sitting at the table and watching, but Leonardo stood when he saw Baxter wander into the doorway. "Hi, Baxter," he greeted. "Sit down."

Baxter did so. "You're being so nice to me," he said slowly, feeling wary again. "I can hardly believe it."

Donatello smiled a bit. "Well, we hoped you might be feeling a lot less hostile when you were back to yourself. We wanted to give you that chance."

"I'm making a new kind of pizza!" Michelangelo cheerfully announced. "It's a special breakfast variety with Cornflakes and Froot Loops!"

Baxter stared at him. "I thought you were going to order something more conventional."

"Oh, we'll have pepperoni and and Hawaiian for sure, Dude," Michelangelo replied. "But I always like to add a personal touch."

Splinter sighed and shook his head. "I am preparing a more conventional soup," he said. "Perhaps you would like some of that, Dr. Stockman?"

"Yes, that sounds good," Baxter said, relieved that something more plausible had been mentioned. He hadn't really wanted to quiz about what was available.

Raphael had remained silent, sitting at the table with folded arms. When Baxter looked to him, silently and slightly questioning, Raphael looked torn on what to say but was definitely very displeased. ". . . Hey, I'm glad you're not still screaming at the top of your lungs about flies or Mousers or Krang," he said at last. "That probably scared everyone away in a ten-mile radius."

Leonardo slapped his forehead.

Baxter cringed. "I really did that?"

"You were delirious," Donatello explained.

"Oh." Baxter fell silent. He certainly did not blame Raphael for being unhappy that he was there. Really, it seemed unreal to him that any of them were welcoming at all. He had been hurt too much in life to fully believe in this scenario now; he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. But while he waited, he would just try to stay away from Raphael for as long as he was there and that would probably be the best all around.

"What Raphael means to say is that he is glad you are recovering," Splinter said with a warning look at Raphael.

"Yeah, that's what I meant," Raphael agreed.

Baxter wasn't as sure, but he didn't push it.

xxxx

It was later that day when April dropped by to visit, completely unannounced as she often did. "Hi, guys!" she chirped, seeing all of them gathered around the television set. "What's . . ." Suddenly catching sight of Baxter on the couch, her mouth dropped open. "Dr. Stockman?!"

He flushed, looking trapped and unsure what to make of the unexpected company. "Hello, Miss O'Neil. . . ."

"What's going on here?!" April exclaimed.

"Uh, you want the short version or the long version?" Michelangelo asked.

"Any version!" April spread her arms wide. "How is Baxter Stockman human again and why is he in the Lair?!"

"Well, he sort of kind of blasted himself with Shredder's new retro-mutagen ray gun after he tried to blast all of us with it," Michelangelo said. "Then Leonardo said we couldn't let him pancake on the ground when he didn't have wings and was falling, so we caught him on an awning and brought him back here to chill out."

"That's the short version, alright," April sighed.

"Dr. Stockman was very ill and delirious when the Turtles brought him back," Splinter said as he entered the room. "He is recovering now, as you can see."

Baxter nodded, eyeing April with wariness.

Splinter took in the scene before coming to a decision. "Come with me, April," he implored. "I want to talk with you for a moment."

April went agreeably, waiting until they were alone before blurting what was on her mind. "Splinter, do you really think it's a good idea for Baxter Stockman to be here?" she hissed. "He was an enemy before he turned into a giant mutant fly."

"I am aware of that," Splinter said calmly. "Raphael has his reservations as well. But overall we felt that he should stay with us at least until he properly regained his senses. He actually was not our enemy the first time the Turtles met him, but they did not know and they treated him as such. We did not see him again until after he had been incarcerated in the insane asylum for some time. The experience seemed to have taken a toll on his sanity."

"Okay," April said slowly. "But what if Shredder finds out and takes him? He knows all about the Lair now."

"What is the news of Shredder?" Splinter queried instead of answering. "Has he learned of the destruction of his retro-mutagen ray gun?"

"Not that I know of," April frowned. "At least, he hasn't done anything about it. Did he know Dr. Stockman took it?"

"Yes," Splinter nodded. "But he was unable to catch up with him before he had his confrontation with the Turtles on the street."

"I'll make sure to let you know if I hear about any new Shredder plots," April promised.

"Thank you, April." Splinter looked pleased. "I also have a favor to ask of you. You too know what it is like to become a human-creature hybrid which slowly loses its humanity over a period of time. In that way, you can relate at least somewhat to Dr. Stockman's situation. He is understandably still shaken by his traumatic experience. Perhaps speaking with someone who understands his suffering will help him."

"You want me to talk to him?" April said in amazement. "I was only a mutant for several hours. That's nothing compared to how long he had to deal with losing himself bit by bit."

"I realize that, but you can still understand his situation better than I or the Turtles can," Splinter said. "We have never had our sanity threatened as you and Dr. Stockman have."

"Well, if you really think I can help," April said doubtfully. "I guess it would be a good exclusive: April O'Neil Interviews Former Human Fly."

"Yes, only it would likely not be a good idea for you to put this interview on the air," Splinter cautioned. "Dr. Stockman may not want it broadcast, and it might be dangerous for him if Shredder were to see it."

"Right," April nodded. "I'll just consider it an interview in my mind. But what are you going to do with him? Surely he's not going to live here!"

"No, I highly doubt he would want that," Splinter agreed. "He will likely leave before long. He has no desire to rejoin Shredder, and it is unlikely that Shredder would want him back, so we are probably safe on that end."

"But will he go back to being honest?" April worried. "I've spoken to ex-convicts and a lot of them say how hard it is to be good guys again after being criminals."

"That is a question only he can answer," Splinter said.

Baxter suddenly appeared in the doorway. "Those Turtles want to watch a horror movie marathon," he complained. "I don't want to see any of it."

"I can't blame you there," April said lightly. She shot Splinter a look, but he merely smiled and nodded as he started to step back. Sobering, April continued, "I've never really liked horror movies, but I liked them a lot less after I spent time as a mutant cat."

Baxter regarded her in surprise. "How did that happen?"

"Oh . . . I got stuck in some kind of teleportation machine with a cat," April said. "It didn't take long and I wasn't just physically turning into a cat, but starting to think and act like one."

"It's a horrible experience, isn't it?" Baxter said quietly. Even though his voice was low, it was clearly haunted. "Feeling your humanity slipping away more and more each day and not being able to stop it. . . . Eventually you start losing your memories too and you don't even know why you want to do certain things or what people did to you; you just know that for some reason, you want revenge. That's your only driving human force left. Everything else has descended to an almost mindless, animalistic level."

"And revenge is a sad remnant of your humanity," April said softly. "I didn't try to take revenge on my own, but I did after Shredder put a mind-control collar on me."

A spark of hatred flashed through Baxter's eyes. "He always seems to be at the root of our problems."

"He usually is," April agreed. "But sometimes, we help move things in that direction ourselves. I shouldn't have jumped into that machine without knowing what it was."

"And I shouldn't have worked for Shredder," Baxter sighed. "I know. I knew it long ago, but it was easier to blame other people for my problems rather than to take some of the responsibility myself. And I felt that whatever my wrongdoings were, it didn't make it right for Shredder and Krang to have treated me as they did. I still feel that way."

"I'll agree with that," April said. "But after Shredder tricked you about the Mousers, why did you even agree to work for him later at all? Surely you knew he was bad news by then."

Baxter looked tired. "I thought I was going out of my mind being locked in that asylum. My brother wouldn't lift a finger to help me get out. When Shredder broke in and offered me an out if I would help him, I jumped at the chance. I never would have had the accident in the disintegration machine if I hadn't."

"Wait, a disintegration machine?!" April said in horror.

"Yes. Krang was trying to kill me. That probably would have been better than what actually happened." Baxter folded his arms.

"I don't know that I could say that," April said. "As horrible as it was, you were still alive. And now you have a chance to start fresh."

"I suppose." Baxter didn't sound hopeful. "I wasn't given the chance before and it's not likely I will be now. Everyone is always fueled by greed. Greed and money! My Mousers would have been a great help all over the city, if they were programmed correctly. Instead, they were rejected because they were too good. The company I talked to didn't want all the rats gone because then they would have been out of business."

"That's terrible," April frowned. "But you can't give up. Maybe the world isn't ready for Mousers, since they can so easily be programmed to do things they really shouldn't be doing. You must have other ideas."

"I do, if Barney hasn't stolen them all," Baxter grumbled.

"And why wouldn't he help you get out of the asylum?" April wondered, appalled. "Did he think you really needed to be there?"

"Maybe at first," Baxter conceded. "But later he knew very well that many people were reporting seeing giant turtles. I can't believe he thought I should be in there then."

"I'm sorry," April said, and she realized she sincerely meant it.

"As far as I'm concerned, Barney can just keep thinking I'm a mutant fly stuck in another dimension. At least until I have a successful invention and become famous for that." Baxter started to walk past her.

"That's good!" April said. "You're making plans for the future."

Baxter paused. "Yes . . . I guess I am," he realized. "And it feels good."

"It does," April smiled. "And I'm sure you're going to succeed."

xxxx

Baxter didn't want to wear out his welcome. He lingered through that day with the intent of leaving the next. He felt well enough to leave, really. His main question was where he would go. His house had more than likely been reclaimed by the city, or worse, Barney might have moved into it. He supposed he could check on that and on the status of his funds and go from there.

Splinter had continued to be congenial and welcoming to him. Of the Turtles, Leonardo and Michelangelo had definitely been the friendliest. He was surprised about Michelangelo in particular, since he had a fuzzy memory of having done something terrible to him during one of his fly rampages. Donatello was kind but aloof, and then Raphael . . . well, he was just aloof. Baxter remembered him as being the wise-cracking member of the group, but he certainly wasn't as long as Baxter was around. It was tempting to just leave without trying to make peace. Still, Baxter supposed with a sinking stomach, that wouldn't be a great start to him hopefully turning his life around. So towards nighttime, he sought out the red-masked Turtle, who was standing at the grate and staring out at the view aboveground.

"What do you want?" Raphael asked in a wary, clipped tone. He hadn't even turned, yet he knew it was Baxter approaching him.

Feeling supremely awkward now, Baxter shifted and adjusted his glasses. "I . . . just wanted to speak with you for a moment. I know you're not happy about my being here and I don't blame you in the least. I don't know how the others can feel so much better towards me than you do."

"I'll tell you how." Raphael finally turned to look at him. "Because they're all more forgiving than I am. Even Donatello, with his distrust of most humans, can be nicer to you than I feel like being. Okay, so you're not like Shredder or Krang. Maybe Shredder abused you up one side and down another. Maybe we could've treated you better the first time we met you. But you still chose to help Shredder. As far as I'm concerned, you're still a crumb in your own right. I can't forget when you kidnapped Master Splinter or when you caught all of us for Shredder. Or when you stole the Eye of Sarnoth and built yourself a Taj Mahal and sent your clay monster after us. And even if you were tipping off the deep end then and even if you were completely nutzoid by the time you used your rotten mutation gun on Michelangelo or when you started turning the city's population into insects, I can't forgive you for any of those things."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Baxter said quietly. "I've had a lot of time to think over the last couple of days. I know I brought many of my misfortunes on myself, either directly or indirectly. I still blame Krang for trying to kill me, but it never would have happened if I hadn't worked for Shredder."

Raphael actually looked surprised. "Okay. That's a start. Maybe Master Splinter was right that you've mainly been off-kilter because of how people treated you instead of that your brain's wired for it." He folded his arms. "But you're going to have to prove yourself by your actions as well as your words before I can ever begin to see you differently. And maybe I still won't forgive you for the past."

Baxter nodded. "That's more than fair. I'm going to be leaving here tomorrow. Perhaps after that you will see how I prove myself."

"Maybe," Raphael said noncommittally. "But if instead you prove yourself to be the weak link I think you are . . ." He drew his sai. "You're going to be in for a world of hurt."

Baxter flinched. "I will remember that."

"You'd better," Raphael agreed. He closed one eye, watching him suspiciously. "That time you stole the Eye of Sarnoth, exactly what were you planning to do with it?"

"I wanted revenge on everyone who had oppressed me: Shredder, Krang, all of you . . . and anyone who had abused me in the past," Baxter admitted. "I was angry at the world and I wanted them to realize what a genius I am."

"So that kind of 'everybody has to suffer for my misery' attitude really wasn't something that originated with your little fly friend," Raphael frowned.

"There was a difference," Baxter insisted. "I wasn't going to hurt the entire world as long as I was still myself. I only intended to harm those who had harmed me."

"And that makes it okay?" Raphael retorted.

"No!" Baxter snapped. "But it's not the same thing as turning complete strangers into insects, is it?"

"I guess that's even more out there," Raphael slowly conceded. "Although when I think of your Taj Mahal, I have to wonder which is more nuts. I think you've had your screws loose at least ever since the second time we met you."

"Well, if I did, I had you Turtles to blame somewhat," Baxter said bitterly. "I hated you for suspecting me when I hadn't done anything knowingly wrong. I hated you for causing me to be sent to jail and then to the asylum. And I hated how Shredder always took out his plans' failures on me. I suppose I blamed you for that, as well, since you were the reasons they failed. That was why I attacked you after I stole the Eye of Sarnoth. I wanted to feel powerful, which I'd never been before."

"I love the smell of honesty after dinner," Raphael said half-sarcastically. "And now that we have this glowing bit of info, what next?"

"You have my word I won't come after you again," Baxter said. "You looked after me and I want to return the favor."

"Like I said, you're going to have to prove it," Raphael stressed. "Your word isn't good enough."

"I understand. It wouldn't be."

"What if Tinhead finds you and tries to force you to work for him again?"

Baxter didn't hesitate as he replied, "I won't give in another time. But I don't think he'd want me back."

"I don't really think so either," Raphael said. "What's probably more likely is he might want to take revenge on you now." It was possibly true, but Raphael was really saying it just to test Baxter's reaction. He paid close attention at the flicker of fear that went through Baxter's eyes.

"Well, maybe he does," Baxter grumped, "but I was always such an insignificant thing to him. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd rather just forget about me entirely."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Raphael said. "Sometimes we wanted to forget about you too. But then you'd always turn up again like a bad penny."

"That isn't exactly the way I wanted to be remembered," Baxter said ruefully. "Although I suppose it's better than being forgotten altogether."

"That's debatable," Raphael said.

"I am sorry for attacking you," Baxter went on then. "Especially the times when I blamed you for something you weren't even responsible for. I still find it difficult to comprehend that you would help me after all that."

"Me too," Raphael grunted. "But . . . Leonardo was probably right about it not being honorable to do nothing." He paused. "I guess there's no chance of you being interested in helping us bring down Shredder."

"I don't want to be pulled back into the fighting," Baxter insisted. "You don't really need my help. I want to see if there's any chance of salvaging my life."

"Well, good luck with that, then," Raphael sniffed.

It was an odd reaction, Baxter thought. "Do you want me to help you?" he said in disbelief.

"No, not really," Raphael admitted. "I just want you to want to help us. But I guess that would be asking too much. You should go, like you said. Try to get back to a normal life."

"I will," said Baxter. He adjusted his glasses and turned to leave, but hesitated. "You feel that I should want to assist you because of my gratitude for your helping me. Am I correct?"

"You're not incorrect," Raphael retorted.

The other shoe had dropped.

"And perhaps that's the real reason why you helped me," Baxter rushed on then. "It's just as I already knew: no one helps anyone simply because 'it's the right thing to do.' They always have their own agenda."

Suddenly realizing he had made a grave mistake, Raphael spun around. "No, that's not it!" he exclaimed. "It's just what I'm personally thinking. Leonardo was the first one of us to jump to help you and it was because he felt it was the right thing to do. There wasn't any secret agenda!"

"Hmm. Be that as it may, I don't think I will partake of your hospitality any more," Baxter said coolly. "Maybe you feel that I owe you, and I'll agree that perhaps I do. But there must be another way to repay you for looking after me. I can do without being made to feel guilty for not wanting to join you in your fight against Shredder and Krang. You may tell the others that I am grateful, but not to the extent of committing suicide!"

"Wait!" Raphael tried to reach for Baxter without success. The little man was already vanishing around the corner, not about to stop. Raphael threw his hands in the air. "Oh great! What am I gonna tell Master Splinter?!"

The sound of Baxter's footsteps still echoed up and down the old corridors. Raphael frowned to himself. He knew what he had to do. Steeling himself in determination, he chased after the scientist and prayed he would be able to get through to him.