A/N: Kind'a curt this time around, but it is what it is. Glad to see you ell enjoyed the little ray of hope. Here's another. ;)


CHAPTER 09: TRUCE

"What're these called in Nahuatl again, Tatuaggi?"

"Toe-calk."

"And that's for all spiders?"

"Most." Coyolxauhqui smiled, watching in fascination as Cuddles marched up the native's arm. "Why she has seven legs?"

Soap leaned against the table where the tocatl's glass habitat sat. "Well, she has seven and a half, technically. She was born that way."

"So pretty." Coyo lifted her arm to see how the bedroom lights reflected off the semi-transparent hairs along the albino's body. It added an elegant glow enhanced by black markings—a regality any other tocatl would envy. "White tocatl like Cuddles sacred. K'ekchi never eat them."

"Uh...did you just say eat?"

"Large tocatl have much meat. Perfect when roasted and seasoned."

"...Give me back my spider."

"Eh?"

"Now!"

Coyo slipped a hand under Cuddles, so she began her journey up the native's other arm. "No worry; Coyo no eat. Cuddles precious to Soap."

"So-ff. And if you so much as look upstairs next time you're hungry, I'll—"

"Cuddles family. Quema?"

The yellow-haired woman eyed Coyo yet returned to her position against the table. "Don't forget it, either."

"Never."

"Pazza. That tree rat still in your hair?"

"Twitch? He asleep."

"In your hair."

Coyo failed to understand why Soap made such a face; she saw no harm in allowing the techalotl refuge since Yolotli stressed him with play. Besides, he added a layer of warmth along her neck.

"You know," added Soap, "it's hard to believe you were a leader of a war against the EPF. You're unlike any leader I've ever known. Except for those in magical girl Animes."

"Ah-knee-may?"

"Japanese animations. You might like them, actually. It's drawn art, not actors, so it may not freak you out as much. Style-wise, anyway. I make no promises about their stories."

"Oh."

Coyo nodded more so in pretend than comprehension, and the yellow-haired woman smiled wryly, saying, "It's admirable, though. I'm a little jealous, to tell the truth."

The native cocked her head, allowing Cuddles to scale her frayed curls. "Why?"

"You didn't let war change your values," Soap continued. "Me? I fought them for a fraction of the years you did, and it only worsened my cynicism. If had I grown up that way, I don't think..." She sighed. "I see why Marco had a change of heart when he stole that stone."

'Stone?'

"Remember, Tatuaggi? My ex took it from those aliens."

"Aliens called Teonanemi," Coyo said sternly.

"Or Languu. But." Soap shrugged. "I don't mean any disrespect. You've probably heard about all this from Figo and Calza, though. It's just crazy how we're all tied to them in one way or another. Even crazier to think the stone I kept around my neck for years was actually a weapon."

"A weapon Yaoqui now have."

"I didn't lose it on purpose."

"Coyo know." The native gave into a sigh, glancing downwards at the empty glass box as she felt Cuddles' weight crawl down her bicep. "War not over. K'ekchi hide, but Yaoqui here, too. Coyo never escape."

"Least you're in good company, right?" When the curly-haired woman glanced up, Soap winked. It reminded the once-chief of Izel and warmed her with a smile. "But it could be better, huh? If Capo and Sorriso would call a truce already. Your tartaruga mention anything about their headway? Any progress at all?"

What did Soap mean by 'headway'? Was it the direction one faced? Why did that matter? And who did she mean? Coyo knew no one by the name 'Tar-tar-ooga.'

"Tartaruga," Soap repeated. "Turtle. Capo." The native stared blankly until the yellow-haired woman groaned. "Leo and Melody! How are they doing?"

"Doing what?"

"Mio Dio, Tatuaggi. Their visits! Has Leo talked about them with you? Does it seem to help? Are they going out again? Give me some details; they've both been tight-lipped about it."

Coyo chose to ignore the odd phrase 'tight-lipped,' focusing instead on the conflict she sensed inside her husband. "Leo confused. He no sure what he feel. Make him restless, keep him awake at night."

"He needs to figure things out already. Don't know how much longer I can stand the tension. It brings everybody down."

"Down where?"

"I swear one of these days we're going to make you a slang handbook. My point? The sooner Capo straightens things out with Sorriso, the better. I get bad crap happened between 'em. That's family, though. Okay, so she did little more than borrow some clothes without permission, Dina, or eat the last pudding cup when you left a note on it saying you'd eat it after school, Adamo...where was I going with this? Oh! We all do shitty things. Can you say you haven't done anything you regret?"

Coyo shook her head under Soap's green-brown stare and did not speak because she lost her voice to the memory of warm blood coating her hands.

"Thought so. Hell, Marco pretended to be dead for years, and I still forgave him. Sorriso isn't bad. Screwy in the head, but not bad."

The native agreed by humming, lifting up Cuddles with both hands. "Mel-dee like tocatl. Intimidate. Solitary. Bite when frightened. Look scary. But gentle. Easy in calm. Coyo knows Mel-dee wish more people understood."

"They will, Tatuaggi. They will."


Two tables were covered in the notes Melody reviewed. Bits of misshapen scraps filled spots between torn-away notebook papers and yet no matter how long the cyborg stood, she struggled to understand.

'There are no commonalities, save those expected from cousins,' she thought. 'How? In essence, both were mutated by the Languu. Yet their abilities and appearances are radically different.' Melody leaned forward, scanning results from recent tests. 'Coyo's dominate alleles match textbook definitions, although the heavy melanin presence on her iris' front layer should be impossible. Or astronomically rare. It makes no sense for her entire tribe to share orange eyes, even less sense how the color coordinates with her gift to'—how had the native explained it? —'see energies.'

What had Coyo meant by that, anyway? She mentioned once how strange it was to watch a blue sky and that inside Nia's chest burned a faint, urethral glow. Her claims, however, were unfounded by proof and sounded fantastical.

'I doubt she would lie, but her spiritual background makes my work harder. Touched by Teo is not a reasonable explanation..'

"Knock, knock."

Melody sighed, more so in frustration of being disturbed than the fact that April entered Saisei's Lab. "Yes," Mel said.

The older redhead fidgeted—a subtle act tempered by her gentle voice. "Still working at that encyclopedia set, huh?"

"Records are important, Miss O'Neil. Donatello had already compiled studies of his family over the years. Those should be expanded."

"But you aren't working with the Mutagen right now, are you?"

"No. I organized those notes weeks ago. They are set in another pile dedicated to volume one."

"How many volumes you plan on making?"

"As it stands, four. One for Mutagen mutants, one for Languu-altered humans, one for cyborgs, and one for hybrids."

A whistle echoed. "That's quite the endeavor. And you're doing it alone? On top of school?"

"I can handle the load."

"Really?"

Mel sideglanced to where April thumbed through the notes the cyborg had gestured at. "Should you not be working as well?"

"Joy about your own business is that you can open whenever."

"It remains to be seen how you make a profit at the rate you linger around here nowadays."

April hunched, back still turned. "Casey's at my place. With Shadow."

"So?"

"I..." The older redhead sighed long and loud then slammed a palm atop the note pile. "If I stay there too long, I'll snap. It feels like Casey's dragging his feet, trying to win me over with Shadow. Even though he should be growing the balls to tell his mother what happened in Colorado."

"Why not call her yourself if it bothers you?"

"I can't. Want to. But cant."

"Then you have made a choice. Now, is there a reason you sought me out?" Melody had too much work on hand to risk wasting minutes; her hard stare told April as much. The older redhead kept a cool expression, though remained tight-lipped as Mel returned to her notes.

"I've seen what Leo's doing," April said a long time after. "Figured if he could make something work, so can I."

Mel almost choked on snide laughter, saying, "You don't have to like me. Neither of you."

"I don't. Not really."

So what was the point? The cyborg stared down the other woman, wondering.

"Melody," April stared, "you're an embittered ice bitch with a long history of violence and death. Hugh can vouch for that. Yet you have one of the most patient, tender guys standing up for an honor I admit I'm blind to. Correct Melody if she were wrong (she often misread emotions), but April sounded jealous. "You tore families apart," the older redhead continued. "I hate that about you. So I remind myself of your circumstances. How you grew up. Where. The twists your life took and what you had lost." April's tone softened as if she had witnessed the bullets that claimed Fry and Carlos or the cancer that robbed Gray of whatever few years she had left. "I went on my own excursion. The people at the Junkyard told me about you. Know what they did? They protected you, your reputation."

Had they? Even after she had taken Star? Melody doubted as much, although the contorted look on the other woman's face showcased another truth.

"It was so weird," April added. "There I was, candid about everything, and not one person believed you'd hurt them. They said you were special, called you their sentry, their Black Angel. It made me see you a little differently. You did so much for those people. Made awful connections. Took beatings. Administered medical care. Patrolled. All without asking for a reward. That? That's something I can respect."

"Respect?" Melody could barely repeat the word when she met April's green eyes. "What brought all this on?"

"The past has a way of haunting us. Still, Leo, Coyo, hell, even Casey, are trying to overcome that. We've gone through a crazy few years, and we're all floundering to return to some sort of normalcy. Well"—April half-smiled—"our normalcy, anyway. I get that you aren't going anywhere, that you make Donny happy, so...we can be civil, at least. As long as you don't break his heart again."

"He broke mine first," the cyborg countered. Her stare dared the older redhead to deny the fact; however, April sighed in resignation.

"I came here for a truce, Gray. Will you accept it or not?"

"I will."

"Just like that?"

"Would you rather we argue?"

"Not really. I argue enough at home."

"Then it is settled." Melody returned to her notes, yet April wouldn't leave the Lab.

She lingered, silent while picking up Donatello's notes. "This is too big of a project to do on your own."

"Don helps."

"But he has other projects, too, doesn't he? And a job."

"...Yes."

"Let me help."

The older redhead took a few steps forward until Mel nodded. The cyborg wasn't foolish enough to deny assistance nor desperate enough to plead for it. And April didn't prod for thanks.