Nine

A few days into his second life, he discovers he can imitate the sounds that humans are constantly making at one another.

The endless stream of noise that he absorbed during his first life suddenly resolves itself into words with uses and meanings.

He decides to practice this new skill.

He talks to the four turtles, but for his own benefit, so he's astonished when they start talking back.

They learn words with amazing rapidity and no apparent effort.

It makes him wonder what else they can learn.


He's pinned between orange sheets, listening to a voice in the darkness.

It's telling him some innocuous bedtime story, and he's too terrified to move.

"Who are you?" he whispers.

The storytelling stops abruptly. "What?" says the voice.

"Leave me alone!" he whimpers.

"Wait," says the voice. "You're not -"

The weight on his mattress leaves suddenly, all at once.

He lies there, scared and frozen and Klunk crouching protectively over his chest, through the long dark hours of the night.


Splinter rises early and goes to the dojo.

The mushrooms have not come back, and he marvels at the bonds between his sons, the way that nothing can defeat them when they work as one.

He will have them consecrate the new dojo with meditation, letting their chi merge with the energy of this place.

The air still reeks of lemon. He wishes he had some incense.

He sits down and waits for his sons to rise.


Leo looks.

He looks again.

Counting himself, there are seven distinct energy sources here.

The icy cloud is still there, but floating near it are two bubbles of chi, the psychic shadows of people.

These aren't like the astral images of plants and animals. They're constant, self-contained, the projections of thinking beings.

At the same time, they're not like the vibrant, colorful energy of his family. Not like the pulsing brilliance of the Ancient One. They're pale and faint and they cast no light into the void.

He hasn't yet mastered the art of speaking mind-to-mind.

So he says nothing.

But he watches.


This is strange and unsettling.

It unnerves him to see these unknown entities so close to his sons, three of them oblivious, the fourth trying desperately to protect them from a perceived danger, a danger he knows he can't fight, a danger he knows they can't even see.

These echoes are so faded, and yet still so clear...

He sinks out of the meditative trance.

"My sons," he says softly. "Come back."

They return, blinking, to the physical plane. They stretch, stand up, bow, walk out.

Except Michelangelo.

He doesn't move.


He's woken by someone saying his name.

"... chel ... chelan ... Michelangelo!"

His eyes fly open and he's looking into the face of his father.

"Michelangelo," Splinter says. "We must talk."

Mike glances around. His brothers are already gone.

"Sorry, Sensei," he says.

Splinter settles into a more comfortable sitting position. "What is troubling you?" he asks.

Mike shifts uneasily. "There's something weird about this place," he says. "Nothing does what it's supposed to. Everything is..." He hunches his shoulders and lowers his voice. "It's like we're not alone here..."

"Have I ever told you about the home of my Master Yoshi?" Splinter says.

"What?" Mike blinks, confused by the change of subject. "Sure, lots of times."

"I do not think I have told you this," Splinter says distantly. For a moment he stares at nothing. Then he continues. "I am speaking of the home of the Ancient One, where he raised Yoshi and Mashimi and Tang Shen, before he went to the mountain."

"Okay," Mike says uncertainly.

"From my cage," Splinter says, "I could see many things. I would watch my family inside, and the trees outside, and the things along the edge."

"Along the edge of what?" Mike asks.

"Along the edge of the room," Splinter says. "I watched the creatures that stalked in the corners."

Mike furrows his brow. "You mean other rats?"

Splinter shakes his head. "They were not rats. They were other creatures, dark creatures, that never came into the center of the room. They were strange to me, and frightening."

Mike desperately tries to figure out where this is going. "I don't understand," he says.

"Nor did I," Splinter says, "until many years later. Looking back, I understood what these creatures were." He fingers his walking stick. "Like many traditional houses in Japan, the home of my Master Yoshi had paper walls." He waits, but Mike only shakes his head. "There were no black creatures skulking in the corners," Splinter explains gently. "I was only seeing the shadows of familiar people in other rooms." He tilts his head. "What do you learn from this, my son?"

Mike doesn't feel like he's learned anything. "That paper walls don't give a lot of privacy?"

Splinter sighs. "And what else?"

Mike looks at the floor. "Not to jump to conclusions?" he guesses. "That everything has a rational explanation?"

"Yes, my son," Splinter says. "Do not let your imagination get the best of you."

"But Sensei," Mike looks up. "The shadows were moving. And our walls aren't paper."


He can't see the energy, now that his eyes are open.

But that doesn't mean it isn't still there.

"What's with you?" Raph asks, pushing past him.

Leo realizes he's drifted to a halt in the middle of the kitchen, and shifts out of the way. "What?"

"You look like you're expectin' a buncha Foot to jump outta the fridge," Raph says.

"I'm..." He slowly pulls out a chair and sits in it. "I'm wondering whether this place is safe enough. Maybe -"

"Don't even say it," Don says, sitting next to him.

"I'm not talking about you." Leo catches the bowl of cereal Raph slides to him. "I'm talking about me."

"Leo." Don stirs the dry flakes. "Stop."

They eat, silent except for the crunching.

Mike and Splinter come in, fill their bowls, sit at the table.

"Mike," Don says. "Will you check out the access tunnel for me?"

"Sure," Mike says absently.

They eat.


Donatello and Michelangelo and Raphael disperse to begin the work of the day.

"Sensei," Leonardo starts.

"I know," Splinter says. "Do not worry about it."

Any of his other sons would argue.

But Leonardo, the dutiful eldest, does not.


Leo paces slowly into the main room.

Raph is kneeling by the generator, turning the crank to build up energy for the day. "Hey, Leo," he says, jerking his head toward the bedsheet where the sedge has been drying. "Ya wanna help me get that down?"

Wordlessly, Leo climbs the stairs to the catwalks, and begins untying the knots holding up the sheet.

A minute later Raph is opposite him, letting down the other side. Between them, they set the sheet swinging and toss it to land lightly on the floor below. Don and Mike drag it further from the pool, and spread out the corners, before heading off to start their own work. Splinter comes out of the kitchen, settles himself beside the sheet, and begins the work of peeling off the grass's outer layers, revealing the soft, pliable core within.

Raph vaults the railing.

Leo takes the stairs.


For some reason, Don has the distinct feeling that his brothers would like it a lot if he built something with wheels.

Well, too bad. All the engine parts he's managed to acquire are busy making the electricity work.

Anyway, he should whip up some of his patented Turtle Trackers.

Especially with the way things have been disappearing lately.


Mike dives.

The water is cool and silent and familiar. He swims down, instinctive motion. Not too far along, the tunnel is blocked by a grating.

He's looking for a way to open or remove it when his lungs leap jarringly, as if they're reaching for air that will never be there again.

He kicks backwards in a panic, and races a stream of bubbles to the surface.


He's lying half-sprawled on the floor, coughing and trying to breathe, his legs still dangling into the cool wet dark.

"Mikey!" Don is hovering over him, wiping the water from his snout. "What happened?"

"Don't know," Mike pants. "Thought I was drowning."

And Leo is there, putting a hand on his shell, offering him a towel. "Are you okay?"

"I can't stay here," Mike says, dragging himself forward and rising shakily to his knees. "I gotta get out."


Leo comes with him.

They sit under a sidewalk grate, the calming sunlight falling on their shoulders.

Quietly, so the humans won't look down, Mike repeats Splinter's story.

Leo understands. This is about mountains and molehills, about not letting obstacles fill your vision until you can't see any way around them. This is about how the yawning chasm he saw between himself and his brothers was really no wider than the space between two buildings, the distance they all leap without fear or hesitation.

"I think it's about not letting fear cloud your judgment," Mike says.

"I think you're right," Leo says.

"Okay," Mike says. "I'm ready to go back."


Raphael watches his brothers go. Then he sits on the floor by his father and starts stripping down sedge.

Splinter's narrow fingers skillfully weave the blades, the ancient pattern of tatami. "Did you enjoy your evening?" he asks.

"Yeah," Raph says.

"Did you fight?" Splinter asks, and there is no judgment in his voice.

"No, Sensei," Raph says. "We didn't look for trouble, and we didn't find any." His eyes slide to the wet patch by the pool. "Mike has some kinda luck with those access tunnels, huh?"

"So it seems," Splinter says.

"He's been a little funny lately," Raph ventures.

Splinter doesn't rise to the verbal feint.

"Y'know," Raph goes on, conversationally. "Seeing things. Hearing things. Smelling things. Kinda weird, don'cha think?"

"If you are seeking answers about Michelangelo," Splinter says, "then you are speaking to the wrong person."

Damn.


Leo runs his hand over the artfully, artificially dirt-encrusted wall, and presses the button that opens the door.

Mike shuffles in, goes directly to where Raph and Splinter are sitting, and settles himself as close to their father as possible without actually sitting on his lap or his work.

Leo glances over at Don's work area, then heads for the remains of the salvage pile, the bulky things that didn't fit into the lockers. He throws a roll of ugly, 70's-vintage upholstery over his shoulder, fills his arms with miscellaneous pieces of wood, and returns to the circle.

"Do you want to make the sandbag?" he asks, kneeling to lower his load to the floor.

Mike shrugs.

Leo goes to the kitchen, takes the antique sewing kit from the drawer, goes back, offers it to Mike. He goes to his room to get his whittling knife, the one he used to occupy himself during the long evening hours at the Ancient One's home, the one he used to make gifts for his brothers. He returns to the main room, sits, and sets to work carving the wood into a training post.

Raph is eying the garish upholstery. "Know what I think?" he says.

"What do you think?" Leo asks, whittling down the end of a broken chair leg.

"I think we really oughta get a couch," Raph says.

Leo looks over his shoulder at the empty room. A couch would go a long way towards filling it. A couch and a TV.

"We need padding for under the mats," he says.

"Raid the stables?" Raph asks.

Leo nods, picks up a slice of tree trunk, starts making a hole for his peg.

"Cool," Raph says. "I could use a good stealth mission."

Leo wonders which of them will lead it.


Don squints at the tiny chip.

Somewhere beyond the screen, the rest of his family is sitting together, doing simple manual labor and talking about ordinary things.

And here he is, alone in the corner, doing complicated technical work and periodically refreshing his inbox to see whether anybody on the listserv has come up with a worthwhile critique of his theory.

This is what passes for normal. This is what he's come to call home.

And he's damned if he'll let Leo make them move again.

He'll chain himself to the railing if he has to. He's put too much effort into this place to leave it now.

Reload.

New message.

Spam.

Delete.

If only all problems could be solved so easily.


"11th and 52nd," Raph says at dinner.

"It's a park," Don replies. Then he looks around. "Is this a new game?"

Leo spins his finger to hold his conversational place while he finishes chewing. "No. This is tonight's mission."

"Okay," Don says. "Obviously I've missed something."

"Short version," Raph says, "Stables, hay bales, dojo floor."

"Got it," Don says.

Raph claps him on the shoulder. "Always were a fast learner."


Mike says nothing at dinner, and then disappears up to his room. Raph clears his plate hastily and follows him.

"Hey," he says, nudging open the door and sliding in. "You okay?"

Mike doesn't look okay. He's curled up on his blankets. But he says, "Yeah."

"You coming tonight?"

"I'm not staying here," Mike says.

"You don't like this place," Raph says flatly.

Mike shrugs.

"You think we should move?" Raph asks, trying to make it sound neutral.

Instead of answering, Mike tells him some weird story about translucent walls. "What do you think it means?" he concludes.

"How the hell should I know?" Raph says.


Leo lifts the manhole cover, peers up and down the street, then surges up and whips inside the building. He takes stock of the situation as his brothers catch up.

No people. Some of the horses are awake, but watching them sleepily, without concern.

He moves to the ladder and puts his hand on it.

"Wait," Raph says. "You stay here and catch." He points to Mike. "You're lookout." He tags Don's arm as he moves forward. "With me."

Leo shifts automatically out of the way as his brothers go past, and then he stands there, thinking alternately that Raph is a massively unskilled leader, and that he himself has just been personally insulted.

For starters, he can't fathom why Raph would assign Mike as lookout. Mike has always been the worst lookout. He's too distractible, equally likely to miss danger or jump at nothing.

And why did he, Leo, get the most menial task?

His ruminations are interrupted by a hay bale coming down the hatch at high speed. He catches it on reflex, puts it safely out of the way, and comes back for the next.

The operation goes quickly. Raph and Don throw down only eight bales before dropping from the loft. That's the most they can carry easily. Also, these are property; they belong to someone; and when they have to steal they prefer to take a little from several people rather than a lot from one person.

Raph whistles out a birdcall, summoning Mike back from wherever he's posted himself. They pick up the hay bales, glance around to make sure they haven't left any obvious tracks, and head back underground.

Leo has to admit to himself that he can't find any fault with his brothers' performance on the mission.

But he doesn't understand why they're putting him on the outskirts.


Mike's not really in a hurry to get home, but the hay bales are scratchy and it's a relief to put them down. He feels across the wall, fingers searching the general area where he knows the release button to be.

He can't find it.

He leans down and squints, looking for the dirt glob that's really an unlocking mechanism.

"What's the problem?" Don asks.

"Can't find the button," Mike says.

"Here." Don puts down his load and leans over Mike's shoulder, reaching to poke at the stained bricks. "Huh."

"Huh what?" Raph demands.

Don straightens up and glances around the tunnel. "This is the place..."

"Is it broken?" Leo asks. "Are we locked out?"

"It's not broken," Don says. "It's just not - exactly... present."

"What do you mean, it's not present?" Leo too puts down his hay bales and goes to look. "It was there this morning."

Don is dialing his shell-cell. He listens to it ring. "Master Splinter, we can't - No, we're okay, we just can't seem to open the door. Can you -"

The door swings open. Master Splinter is there, holding his phone and his walking stick like weapons.

"Worst infiltration ever," Raph says, hefting his bales and carrying them inside.


Raph and Mike go out again, with the sandbag, to fill it with dirt from the baseball field.

Don, resigned to not receiving any interesting e-mails today, sits with his legs dangling off the catwalk, leafing through a thin Bierce volume.

Leo comes and leans against the railing next to him, looking out across the Lair. "I haven't seen you much today," he says.

Don flips a few pages. "Is this a comment about you, or a comment about me?"

"Just a comment," Leo says.

Don turns another page, discovers that the end of a story is missing.

"Raph told me he was in charge while I was gone," Leo says.

Don closes the book and carefully puts it down. "Do you think I should have been?"

"I didn't say that." Leo straightens up, bracing his arms against the rail, elbows locked.

"Then what are you asking?" Don says, tipping his head back to look at his brother.

Leo shifts his feet slightly, squaring his stance. "Is he a good leader?"

"That's an unfair question, Leo."

"I didn't ask if he's better. I just asked if he's good."

"And if I say yes," Don says, "you'll take that to mean that he's better." He leans back and swings his feet. "But if I say no, then you'll probably turn into a complete control freak again."

Leo sits down, but keeps one hand on the rail. "I don't understand his decisions tonight," he says. "I don't know why..."

"Why you got stuck doing nothing?" Don suggests. He draws his legs up and crosses them. "Leo... I may be way off the mark, and I don't necessarily endorse this opinion, but I think Raph wanted you to know that we can pull off missions without your help. Not that we don't like your help," he adds, when Leo visibly deflates. "Just that... you don't have to be responsible for us all the time. We won't self-destruct if you take a day off."

Leo's fingers tighten on the metal. "I don't know what you want me to do."

"I don't know what I want you to do," Don says. "Why is this even my decision? It's your life, Leo. I can't tell you how to live it."

"I understand," Leo says. He gets up. "I'm going to bed."

"Leo -" Don starts, trying to head off whatever ridiculous conclusion his brother has just jumped to.

"Good night, Donnie."

Don thumps his head against the metal support.


Raph sits on the rocks below the castle, watching Mike kick around in the knee-deep water.

"Okay," he says, just loud enough for his voice to carry over the pond. "So this thing about Yoshi's house."

Mike splashes closer and stands, listening.

Raph looks up at the moon, a fraction bigger than it was the night before. "I'm thinkin' it's about, y'know, learning stuff as you get older."

Mike stirs the water around with his foot. "I don't know. I think Sensei wanted me to learn something now."

"Well, maybe he was tryin' to say that you could learn more stuff by askin' questions." He shifts. "Though I guess he couldn't ask any questions..." He tilts his head. "Anyway, what'd you do to get a Splinter-story?"

"Nothing," Mike says, turning his back.

"Is it because you've been so distracted?" Raph asks.

"I don't want to talk about it," Mike says.

"Suit yourself." Raph jumps down from the rocks, slogs across to the opposite bank, and shoulders the sandbag. "You coming in?"

"In a minute," Mike says.

Raph crouches, flips up the manhole cover, and drops into a different kind of darkness.


After a while, Mike goes home.

He gets a towel and dries his feet.

He looks down into the pool.

Then he goes to bed.


Notes

Mike has some kinda luck with those access tunnels, huh? – Mike also had a bad experience with the waterway in the second Lair. See episode 2.12, "What a Croc".