A/N - This Chapter was begging me to write it, so it came out pretty quickly. Sorry there's not much action in it. This story will have action, but probably not until much later. The first half is almost all drama. Enjoy, and, as always, please review.

DISCLAIMER - TMNT belong to Kevin Eastman, Peter Laird, Mirage Studios and 4Kids Entertainment.

CHAPTER 3 - The Questions

Well calloused and scaled, one would think that the plodding coming from the feet connecting with the concrete roofs would create enough clamor to alert the entire city block. However, the movements of the owner, despite his vociferating personality, came with exceptional grace as second nature as tying one's shoes, leaving the occupants of every building he stumbled across completely ignorant of his presence.

Raphael's movements across the rooftops would normally have been a sight to see for any casual observer, let alone his physical appearance, but this time his feet propelled him with a sense of urgency. His brothers would soon discover that he slipped out shortly before that arrogant self-absorbed excuse for a human, if she could even be called that anymore, left, and that meant that they would soon be chasing after him. He had no idea how much of a head start he had, but he did not want to waste a single inch of it. He needed to find that kid that messed with his head and ask him some questions, and the more time he had with him the better.

A sudden hop up onto a ledge and then a springing motion from his well toned legs sent him flying over an empty alley between buildings. But, either the shadows had played tricks with his eyes, or, and much more likely, he just had not been paying very close attention, the gap suddenly widened beneath him as he misjudged the distance.

Twisting his body in a unique motion his sensei taught him to achieve the maximum distance in a jump, he caught a hold of the other building with one hand as his body collapsed into the wall, forcing what little breath he had from his fiery lungs. Gasping, but quickly reaching up to grab the ledge with his other hand, he hoisted himself up and over onto the roof, sprawling down to lie on his side. After several agonizing coughs, he finally regained his breath and lucidity to his surroundings. Unfortunately, that short break was enough for the pumping adrenaline to slowly dissipate in his system, and he was soon assaulted by a wave of muscle cramps as every joint and nerve screamed in protest to stop moving after over an hour of non-stop sprinting.

Raphael was too worn to do anything but oblige their pleas. He pulled himself up to a sitting position, his shell leaning against a nearby air vent. He closed his eyes and let his arms fall limply to his sides, not daring to move any muscle for fear of hearing his body's method of communication to his brain.

His breathing slowly calmed as he regained control of his senses, and that was when he heard it. Somewhat faintly over the din of the New York bustle, even at night, he could faintly hear a soft melody floating over the rooftops. He listened to it for a moment. It was loud enough that he could identify the distinct rapturing wail that came from a harmonica, although the actual melody sounded nothing like something that should come out of such an instrument.

Raphael opened his eyes and got to his feet, his body's protests barely noticeable as he was seemingly guided to follow the song. He was pulled around the building until he stopped at the corner opposite from where he started. There, on a building just a few feet away, he saw a figure silhouetted with the moon directly behind him sitting atop an old wooden water tower. His hands were held at his mouth as they slowly moved back and forth, shifting the small glinting piece of metal in and out of the moonlight.

Raphael stood transfixed, observing the shadow of a person for several minutes. The melody washed over him and seemed to possess his senses, changing what he felt, tasted and smelt. He watched as the stars surrounding the figure seemed to dance and swim through the sky in a kaleidoscopic torrent. His aching limbs relaxed and unknotted. A woody taste erupted in his mouth that reminded him some what of cinnamon and his nose inhaled the sweet earthy sense of a lightly wooded forest.

Then, just as quickly as everything had assailed him, the melody stopped, and Raphael was left on the roof of a New York apartment complex staring at a solitary figure across from him. The familiar deadly rank of a garbage bin from the alley below him attacked, and Raph grimaced slightly at the sudden change.

Both in an attempt to get away from the stench and to reach what he only hoped was the boy he encountered earlier that day, Raph stepped back a few feet from the edge and did a running leap to the other building, landing silently next to the water tower. He looked up and saw the serenely sad smile of the boy eyeing the mouth harp he gingerly clasped in his fingertips, making sure the surface was illuminated by the night lights.

"It just never sounds the same when I play that song on this," the boy's young voice echoed down to the roof. It seemed lost and vacant, obviously buried deep within an old memory.

"It sounded fine to me," Raphael offered quietly.

He did not think the boy knew he was there, but, he had to admit, he was not surprised when the boy coolly shifted his gaze to stare down at him. His eyes closed as distant words came from him. "You wouldn't think that if you heard it properly."

A sudden blur of movement made Raph blink dumbly at the location the boy had just been. Bringing his gaze down to level with the hidden horizon, Raph saw the boy now leaning against one of the four supports of the water tower giving him a happy grin. "Come for a rematch?" he asked in a singsong voice that seemed shockingly different from his previous tone.

Raph shook his head, trying to force the attitude change from his thoughts. He stopped and glared at the boy. "No," he screamed in a coarse whisper. "I came to ask you some questions."

The boy seemed intrigued by that response and gave Raph a smug shrug. "And why do you think I will answer them?" He asked.

"Nothing tells me you'll answer them," Raph admitted. "But I need answers that only you can give, so that's why I'm here."

The boy brought his hand up to his chin in a thoughtful smiling gesture. "Hmm, so you still don't know, do you?" he said.

Raph looked at him confused and surprised. "Don't know what?"

"Never mind," The boy said. "But I suppose considering what I did to you, you do deserve at least some explanation." He threw his hands in the air and then let them fall to his sides as if in mock defeat. "Very well, ask away and hopefully your questions will be ones I feel like answering."

"So ya still plan on hidin' stuff," Raph growled fingering the tips of his sais.

"Hey, I offered to answer at least some of your questions, which is a hell of a lot more than I have to, so you probably should not complain," The boy sneered.

Raph bit back the retort he had on his mind. The kid was right. He had to keep his anger in check or he was not going to get anything out of him.

Sighing, he let his arms fall to his sides and relaxed from his battle ready position to standing normally, his eyes closed and head bent as he calmed his rising temper. Then, his eyes snapped open and stabbed the kid with the most piercing glare he could muster. "First question," he began slower than he wanted. "That vision. What was it?"

"A memory," the boy said simply, but it was all the answer Raph was looking for.

"Was it real?" he followed up.

"It's impossible for me to create a false memory," the boy explained. "With the abilities that I can currently manifest, creating the illusion of a borrowed memory is nearly impossible. I can only memorize the patterns from someone's brain and then duplicate it into my own mind or someone else's. Sort of like a 'copy' and paste' deal on a computer. If I tried to create a fake one, it would be full of holes and would easily be identified as a simple illusion, even to untrained minds."

Raphael thought for a moment, digesting what the kid had said. He thought he got most of what he was saying, but just to confirm, he asked, "So that memory was one that already existed in someone else's mind. Ya copied it and then showed it ta that body builder, and then ta me, right?"

The boy slowly nodded, the smile never falling from his face.

"So then, that body builder, he actually…actually…" Raph trailed off, unable to actually say what it was he saw.

Thankfully, he did not have to. The boy seemed to realize what Raph was trying to say and nodded again, this time with a hint of remorse hidden under his smile. "The later parts of that memory that I did not show you also contained him beating her to near death in that same hotel room. I found her, hours later, barely conscious and in the bathtub. I called an ambulance and then extracted the memory of what happened to her. She died before the ambulance arrived."

Raph sunk to his knees, barely noticing the grinding of the gravel burying itself homely under his knee pads. "So…You showed that muscle dude what he did to her?" Raph asked.

"Yes,"

"And that's it?"

Raph looked up, a brand new angry fire burning in his eyes. The boy's face took on a look of complete bewilderment at what Raph was accusing. He smiled rather sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. "Should I have done more?"

Raph rose to his feet and glared daggers. "Yes you should have done more," he screamed, not caring at all who heard him. "That guy killed a girl and all you did was show him some freaky vision? You should have called the cops on him or beaten him." He pointed a shaking aching finger at the boy's chest. "I know you can. I've seen you fight. You could have had that son of bitch on his knees begging for mercy if you wanted, couldn't you?"

The boy hung his head solemnly, but that cocky smirk remained, goading Raph's temper to rise even higher. "You make things sound so simple," he said quietly. His head rose and an eerily menacing glare met Raph's eyes. "But things are rarely that simple. That girl he killed was a prostitute who, for many years, spent her time lying, stealing and even mugging people to get money so she could get another cocaine fix. By you ideals, she deserved to be punished as well. Who's to say that body builder did not deal the justice that you seem so ready to hand out? And what good would cops have done? I do not exactly have a home, not to mention the fact that I don't like to be seen, much like you and your brothers. Besides, I have no evidence to prove that the body builder committed the crime beyond that memory, and I doubt any court in the world would accept that as evidence."

Raph stared at him for a few seconds before angrily shaking his head. "That doesn't mean that he had a right to kill her and get away with it," he argued. "He probably did not even know what she had done."

The boy shook his head sadly. "Does that mean you have the right to kill people? You are a ninja, an assassin. You have killed many, I'm sure, in the name of your own justice. Does that mean that now I should kill you, for what you think is my justice? If a boy is robbing a store, is that all there is to it? What if someone threatened to kill the boy's family if he didn't? Does that still mean he is just a thieving street punk to you?"

Raph could not respond. Every word the boy spoke was true, he knew it. He had killed in the past, foot ninja that were trying to kill him that he had to kill in self-defense usually. Occasionally he had to get a little rougher with street punks who were over confident and seemed to think nothing bad could happen to them, and they would wind up going home with what would probably be more permanent damage.

But the fact was, he had never thought about the circumstances before. In his mind, he saw almost all of those street punks the same. The concept this kid was bringing up was alien to him, yet he had to admit to himself that everything his said was entirely possible.

Seeing Raph's hesitation, the boy sighed heavily. "Rarely is there a circumstance as black and white as you like to imagine," he said. "I have long since given up trying to identify the worst villain and punishing them. Heck, I've pretty much given up on the whole idea of punishment. The only thing that would really solve anything is if someone learned a new lesson, so that's what I do, I try to teach people lessons."

"But what if that's not enough," Raph asked hotly. "What if they don't learn their lesson?"

The boy shrugged and smirked evilly. "I don't have any specific lesson in mind ever. All I do is show them the fierce other side of their actions. In that regard, they can perfectly see, hear and feel what they are actually doing. It's up to them to make the final decision as to whether or not it's worth it."

"And what if they choose to continue doing it?"

"Then I just hope that they know that what they did has ramifications that hurt both them and other people. Maybe the benefits of their actions were necessary, no matter what the cost was?"

"So you sit back and say, 'Oh, I guess that murderer had good reasons for the second and third killing. No more need for me to get involved'?" Raph scowled at the boy and fingered his sais once more. "Some people are beyond what you do, ya know. Some people actually are sick and need to be taken care of."

The boy shot Raph a dangerous look that was filled with anger behind another sneer. "And how exactly do you identify those people, Raphael?"

"Try checkin' there memories. I hear yer good at that."

"And then what? Do I pound them into ground beef like you enjoy doing? Sorry, but I gave up on hurting people. It never solves anything."

"Ya seemed perfectly content with kickin' mine and my bros' shells earlier. Where did that attitude go?"

"I threw you and Leonardo and Michelangelo on your backs to keep you from assailing me," the boy explained rather defensively. "I doubt that any real damage went through your carapace or that thick skull you seem to be so fond of."

"Shut up," Raph roared. "Just shut yer fuckin' mouth. Yer just a coward who's to afraid to actually do some good around here. And another thing, how do you know mine and my brothers' names? Have ya been keepin' tabs on us or somethin'?"

The boy looked away at that last comment. A small cheeky laugh escaped him rather suddenly. "That's not really my place to explain. But don't worry. I'm sure you'll find out the answer to that soon enough."

"You little piece of-." Raph began.

"You really need to watch that temper of yours," the boy said chuckling.

Raph's face went red at the last comment, but the boy was right. He was letting his temper get the better of him, and he needed to cool down. After all, the kid may not have been doing much, but Raph was sure he was not a bad guy. In fact, it seemed like the kid genuinely did want to help out, he just did not know how.

After a couple of deep and focusing breaths, Raph was much calmer. He looked back at the kid who was currently eyeing him with a strangely curious grin on his features. "Why do ya do that, anyway?" Raph asked.

The boy cocked an eyebrow at the turtle. "Do what?" he replied.

"Smile like that," Raph continued. "Since earlier today when I first saw ya, and even durin' this whole argument. Ya haven't dropped that smile. What gives?"

The boy burst into a frantic fit of laughter. It continued for almost a minute during which time, Raph began to get ticked off again. Then he thought about the situation and realized that asking why someone smiled so much after being at each other's throats was actually a very arbitrary thing to ask, and he smiled slightly to himself at the thought.

Soon the boy was choking back the dying laughter as he wiped away some of the tears that had come to his eyes in the midst of the hysterics. "Wow, I did not expect you to ask that then," he gasped. "Sure, I knew it was coming, but just not then."

"Well, why do you?" Raph asked again, his slight impatience seeping into his words.

The boy's eyes fell downcast. "Does one really need an excuse for smiling?" he asked.

Raphael shrugged. "The only person I've known who could smile for no reason is my brother Mikey, and he's an idiot."

The boy shook his head. "You shouldn't say things like that. Just because someone smiles for seemingly no reason doesn't mean that they don't have one. It may just mean that more things make them smile than for you. It is the people who never smile that you should be wary of."

"So you should be wary of me?" Raph asked.

The boy chuckled softly. "You smile often enough. You just smiled at yourself a minute ago for asking me why I smile."

He noticed that? Raph thought, but could not help himself from smiling again, which just made the boy start chuckling again. "So then what's your reason fer smilin'," he asked.

"What indeed." The boy's face grew distant and his gaze shifted to looking up at what few stars were visible in the sky. "I guess I smile because I've forgotten how too."

"Oh great," Raph moaned. "Are you going to start spoutin' some deep soulful shit at me?"

"You asked for it," the boy replied looking back into the mutant's eyes. "The truth is there are so many emotions that are displayed through an amazing number of types of smiles. You can show anger, sadness, joy, confusion, just about anything. But I believe it is when you smile for the sake of smiling that you really feel good. It's been a long time since I have smiled like that, so I guess I walk around and smile in hopes that someday I will smile like that again."

Raph was never one to take that sentimental bullshit well, but what the boy said was simple, and Raph could see what he meant. But that still left another question floating in his mind. "How old are you?"

"Older than you would think," the boy said. "It's hard to explain right now without explaining so much more. Maybe some other time I can share that with you."

"Well then how 'bout at least tellin' me yer name," Raph said. "You know mine and my brothers', but I don't know yours."

The boy's face fell. "I don't have a name."

Raph was utterly confused at that statement. How could this kid not have a name? "Right, so anyway, what is your name, really?"

The boy shrugged. "Call me whatever you want really. I could care less. But believe me when I say I don't have a name. Not one I can honestly give you at least as being my real name."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I have had several names in my life. Most are ones that people have given me, but none that I choose to identify myself with. That kind of name was never really given. So just call me whatever you want and then we will be good."

Raph gave the kid a very confused look, but eventually sighed and shrugged. "Whatevah. If ya want me ta decide what ta call ya, fine." He thought for a moment. "I'll call ya Joss. How's that?" The boy very suddenly stiffened at the mention of that name and Raph gave him another questioning look. "Somethin' the matter with Joss?"

"No, no," the boy said defensively waving a hand in front of him. "It's just…not the first time I've had that name."

"Well good, then ya won't have to worry 'bout gettin' used to it."

"Heh, I guess not," the boy admitting bringing his hand behind his head and laughing.

Raph chuckled slightly too before he continued with his questions. "So how exactly does that memory thing work?" Raphael really hoped the kid would explain this one.

The boy Raph now called Joss stopped laughing and smiled brightly, but then a strange look of interest seemed to flit across his eyes but was then gone. "That's another thing that I think should wait to be told by someone else," he said.

"Why would someone else explain ta me what ya did?" Raph asked. "It's your trick."

"Yes, but I wasn't the one who came up with the concept for it," the boy admitted. "I think the genius who thought of it would be better suited to explain the details. Isn't that right, Donatello?"

Raphael started at the sudden mention of his brother's name. He stared confused at the boy in front of him until he noticed that Joss's eyes were no longer focused on him, but instead seemed to be looking at something just over Raph's shoulder.

It couldn't be, Raph thought to himself as he slowly turned to look at the rooftop behind him.

There, standing still slightly in the shadows of a stairwell house, was the figure of a mutant turtle with a long shaft strapped to his back. The figure took a single step into the light revealing the purple bandana across his eyes and the bandage on his arm that had a couple tiny red dots staining it now from the cut he received a little over an hour ago.

How long has he been there, Raph thought. And why did Joss say he can explain things for me?