A/N: Yajuu = Beast and Kodomo = child in Japanese

"Sometimes even to live is an act of courage." –Lucius Annaeus Seneca

"And I have sins, Lord, but not today,

cause they're gonna wash away, they're gonna wash away." –Joe Purdy, Wash Away

Chapter 9 – Grasping at Raindrops

"Dad, we're back!" Mikey called as Raph and Don set their bags down and began to pull the cans out and set them on the floor for Scrag to examine. Leo entered last, moving into the home like a wraith. Scrag slid the blanket in his doorway to one side and limped out into the room on his stiff legs.

"We got a lot of great stuff," Mikey beamed and Raph huffed at the attention hog, shoving his hands into the front pocket of his sweatshirt. His fingers felt along the cool, smooth surface of the handle of his treasure. He glanced up and saw Scrag watching him, curiously, the end of his nose twitching; the white blind eye tearing as it always did. Raph shrunk back, his swollen eye throbbed painfully as he remembered the blow his dad had given him that morning. Inside his pocket he gripped the handled of the knife until his knuckles turned white. He bumped into Leo and his brother grimaced in pain.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

As he moved closer to inspect the haul, Donnie grabbed the straps of his bag and clutching it to himself, made a circuitous route around the back of his brothers around the room to the back of the couch. Once hidden behind, in the only spot in their home that he ever felt safe, he quickly pulled the text books out from his bag and began to shove them under the couch. There was a shift in the air and Scrag loomed suddenly above him as he struggled to fit one particularly thick book under the space.

"What is this?"

Donnie froze. His face shot up.

"What are you hiding there?"

Scrag lumbered around the side of the couch and came to stand before him. Donnie quailed and ducked his head. Scrag crouched down and yanked the book from the young turtle's hands. His tattered ears twitched as he focused on the title. His eyes narrowed as he read it aloud.

"Bi-ology . . ." Scrag tilted his head and looked from the cover of the book to Donnie who sat with his head tucked down, brown eyes staring up at him. "Books? You bring me books? Bad human things instead of food?"

He flipped through the pages and saw illustrations of animals, plant life and the diagrams of dissected bodies in the back. His black eye glittered as he remembered the Not Men and their labs. The things they did as he watched from his cage so long ago. Scrag felt a tickle in the back of his mind; an idea formed for a new game to play; a delicious twist in his stomach as he slowly brought his gaze to the skinny turtle-boy kneeling in front of him. Raph, Mikey and Leo coming in the rear all stood, gathered behind their dad, watching the scene curiously as the room filled with tension.

"Not just those, he got us some food, too," Raph said. Scrag straightened up and looked at him. "Right there," he pointed behind him. "So what if he got some of those stupid books, too. I got some rope and a blanket and some spoons."

"Spoons? You're as stupid as you are ugly," Scrag snarled at him.

Raph ducked his head and stared at the couch, feeling his face burn with humiliation. The throbbing pain of his swollen eye aided him in keeping his mouth shut. He gripped the knife tighter.

Scrag twisted back to Don and flung the heavy book at his face. The soft cover splayed open and several pages tore as they struck him. With shaking hands Don gathered up the book and hugged it against his chest.

"Useless . . ." Scrag snarled.

"H-He found some meat," Leo offered in a weak voice. This got Scrag's attention.

"Meat? Let me see," he said eagerly.

Leo moved as quickly as he could, ignoring the spears of fiery pain as it shot through him. He dug into his own bag and pulled out the two rusted cans of spam. Leo held them up. Scrag hadn't moved. He hadn't bought the lie, either.

"Why are they in your bag, son?"

"Uh, um, h-he . . . my bag?" Leo faltered, ever solid with keeping secrets, but never any good at lying.

Scrag nodded slowly. Enough of this. It was time to play. He turned back to Donnie. "Get up."

Donnie paled where he sat on his heels still clutching the book to his chest. Raph and Mikey exchanged fearful glances.

"Get. Up."

Don set the book down in front of him and stood up on shaking legs. One trembling hand went reflexively to his bruised throat.

"We're going out, boys," Scrag told the room in general while staring down at Don. "Stay here and put away the food, then wait for us to come back. No one eats anything until I get back, understood?"

Raph frowned and Mikey spoke up. A desperate note rang in his tone. "Where are you going? Can I come to?"

Scrag shook his head and a wicked grin spread over his face as he led Don towards the back passageway, one hand going to Donnie's shoulder to usher him along. He leaned down and spoke close to Donnie's cheek, "What do you think, son? Should we bring little Mikey along? Would you like that?"

Donnie's wide eyes shot over his shoulder to Mikey standing next to Raph then back up to Scrag. He shook his head in sharp short movements. Then he dropped his eyes and moved towards the tunnel.

To Mikey, Scrag said, "Not this time." To Donnie he said, "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Don lowered his head then, shoulders slumping in defeat; moving like he was walking through a dream, he crossed the room. He ducked behind the couch and retrieved his rusted tool box. He wrapped one arm over the top, the other cradled the large box beneath. Don moved past his brothers without making eye contact; gaze glued to the ground. As he moved into the tunnel, though, he shot one pleading look in Leo's direction. Their eyes met; blue and brown; sadness and fear; before Don was shoved forward into the passageway.

A terrible sense that somehow Donnie knew what was happening between him and their dad struck Leo. A tremor swept through him. But there was no way. He never told anyone. He'd been quiet and no one ever saw. Because, if they did . . . Scrag had warned him what would happen if he told.

His eyes darted from Raph to Mikey who looked at him expectantly before they fell away. He felt it as they silently continued to stare at him; felt their unspoken demands that he do something. His heart began to pound painfully in his chest. What did they want from him? He couldn't stop their dad from punishing Donnie. There was nothing more he could do to protect them. He was . . . already giving everything he could. Everything.

Suddenly, his eyes welled up and he sat on the floor where he stood, cradling his forehead against his wrists. Hot tears spilled from his clenched eyes.

Yoshi moved through the tunnels, listening, only stopping to sniff at the air and close his eyes. There it was again. He paused. The hammering drumbeat of his heart distracting him as he tried to tune it out. Yoshi shifted the small pack of food he'd packed on his shoulder to a more comfortable spot on his back. He stood perfectly still, focusing internally. His rounded ears pivoted and turned; the only part of his body that made any outward sign of movement.

He'd been looking for days and had spent all that morning searching; beating back his frustrations at finding no sign of them; concentrating on the task at hand, moving forward. He was determined to find them or at least a sign of where they'd been. It was at a bend in the sloping passageway that he'd felt it. A shiver, a touch in the back of his mind, a caress of distress, a flash of sharp pain that did not belong to him caught his attention. And now, following the ethereal compass he hardly understood, he moved forward through the dark and dim tunnels, towards the source of bitter suffering he was sensing.

Donnie held still as his dad roughly ripped the shirt from him and pulled the torn sweatpants down over his hips. Numbly, he stepped out of the pant legs and stood, naked and shivering in the dimly lit tunnel. Moving in a daze, he laid down on the large metal grate without protesting; even as his dad tightened the belts around his throat and spread his arms and legs out and strapped them down to the grate as well. He only blinked and swallowed dryly; fighting the urge to cough; terror turning his blood to ice in his veins, but he complied with his dad's every instruction.

He always did as he was told. Always. He didn't fight like Raph, didn't shout or try to be playful like Mikey. He tried to be like Leo. Obedient and good. Though he knew he was useless and stupid. A burden his dad had to tolerate.

So he did his best when his father woke him in the middle of the night and brought him into his room. Or when the others went out scavenging and he was left alone with him. He never cried out as Scrag instructed him not to, enduring the terrible pain in complete silence, broken only by his muffled coughing that he forced down into the mattress. And when he had to use his mouth, he tried his best not to gag or choke. It was always so hard not to when the tight, itchy, painful urge to cough burned in his chest and throat. But he did his best. He had to make up for being so useless and stupid.

"So. You want to be like the bad humans," Scrag said as he picked through Don's tool box. He knelt on the ground with the box next to him. Scrag hmm'd as he rummaged. "I told you humans were all bad. They would do terrible things to you if you got caught. But still you want to be like them. You want to read their books," he said disgustedly. "This game will teach you what humans do to little turtle boys when they catch you."

"D-Dad," Donnie licked his dry lips trying to offer his apologies and gain forgiveness. "I-I'm sorry. You don't h-have to . . . do this. I . . . won't read those books anymore," Donnie spoke in a soft voice laced with fright. "Please, cugh, cugh, Daddy. D-Don't hurt-"

"Shh, if you keep talking," Scrag held up a shorter belt and produced a rubber ball with a missing chunk in one side, Donnie's eyes followed the movement. He leaned over the nine-year-old and brought the ball up to his mouth. Donnie's bottom lip trembled as he pressed his mouth closed. "I will gag you. Like last time when you wouldn't stop that wretched coughing. So be a good boy and keep still." Scrag patted his chest, his voice dripping in dark humor, "And don't make a sound. Can you do that? Do you understand, little dim-wit?"

It was hard with the belt around his neck, but Donnie managed to nod. He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing. He would obey and be good. He would show him that he was worth keeping and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't hurt him too badly.

But as Scrag wedged the long, flat screwdriver between his shell and back just above his hip until it hit the join between shell and backbone he started to tremble. When he felt the metal bite into his flesh and the electric pain lash through him, he couldn't help but cry out. The pain was too much. Tears welled and slipped down his cheeks, painting fresh green stripes down his filthy face. He began to tremble harder as he felt the warm blood trickle then flow along his side; filling the crevice between his body and shell. His dad was saying something but he couldn't hear it. There was a rushing sound filling his ears and the pounding of his heart in his throat made it hard to breathe. He felt his dad pull the screwdriver out then move it up higher. The hammer made a tap-tapping sound as it drove deeper into his side now just under his arm pit.

"Mpfh, ow-mph, omph, cugh, cugh," Donnie whimpered and cried and coughed as Scrag scurried around him and started on the other side. But he paused then moved slowly around stopping between his splayed legs. Donnie's mind focused sharply as a wave of fresh fear washed through him drowning out the pain temporarily.

"…and they wouldn't stop with removing your shell, Donnie-boy. Oh no. They'd want to pry every piece of you apart." He paused and spoke each word slowly, "Every tender little piece."

He licked his lips, savoring the waves of utter fear coming off the little turtle. This was going to be delicious, he thought, feeling his arousal grow to a painful level as he brought the bloody tip of the screwdriver to the small fold just beneath the inverted 'v' shape of the bottom of his plastron. As Scrag carefully positioned the hammer, Donnie's eyes turned into glassy circles of panic. Helpless and terrified, they rolled up into his head as he braced for what was about to happen. He began to shake so hard the back of his shell made a loud staccato noise against the metal grate.

"Get away from him!"

Scrag jumped at the shout and dropped the screwdriver and hammer. They clattered against the tunnel floor and rolled to one side. Scrag's head whipped around seeking the source of the furious voice. He hissed as a shadow emerged from a side tunnel and took the form of a large gray rat in a red and gold patterned robe. The fury in those amber eyes flashed gold so deep it sparked crimson in the gloom. An overwhelming lance of fear went through him at the sight. He hadn't felt this fear since he was trapped in the cages in the Not Men's lab. When the cold hands would reach in and squeeze at him until they grabbed him and pulled him out from the corner of the cage where he quailed in terror. Scrag quickly unstrapped Donnie and pulled him tightly to his chest. He backed away, tail lashing; dragging the little turtle's bleeding body with him; knocking cans and garbage to each side.

"Yajuu, release the boy!"

Scrag paused, head tilted, considering the gray rat's stance, listening with his double senses and only feeling danger and menace radiating from him. He had to escape! The gray took another step towards him and Scrag snarled and growled. He spun, throwing Donnie towards the center of the tunnel where the rains of the surface had swollen the tame, lazy water into a rushing torrent of foaming storm run-off.

"Take him!" Scrag shrieked.

Yoshi leapt forward, catching the small turtle's body with the crook of one arm. Scrag reared back and with a final hiss dashed into the tunnel.

Yoshi turned the bleeding, shaking boy over in his arms. He moved limply, like a rag doll, barely standing. With wide eyes, he searched the small body over, taking note of the injuries; the ones that bled bright and fresh and the ones that were revealed only by the deep purple markings and yellowish bruising.

"Kodomo," he murmured sadly. Yoshi looked into the tunnel where the black rat had fled. He turned his gaze back to the shivering boy in his arms. He shook his head and spoke slowly in English, "The others. Y-Your brothers, are they…"

Yoshi closed his mouth as he stared into the pain-filled distant eyes. Eyes that saw nothing. He wasn't sure if the poor child could even understand him and after what he'd only had a glimpse of, was sure the boy was traumatized from the horrific treatment he was being subjected to. With a small squeeze on the boy's shoulder, Yoshi eased him down to sit. Quickly, he shrugged off his robe and draped it over the shuddering turtle's shell and shoulders. "Stay here. I will return." Gently, he moved around the little turtle and took off in pursuit of the black rat as fast as he could.

Donnie sat, trembling; feeling the burning, aching pain where the screwdriver had bitten into his flesh. The strange, hot feeling of his blood trickling from the wounds. The fear of what Scrag was about to do to him was nothing but a numb impression settling over his spirit. His chest and throat hurt. His body ached in several different places; his bottom never seemed to stop hurting.

"cugh, cugh, cugh," he coughed. The motion made the splinters of sharp pain streak through him and he cringed. Fresh tears spilled down his face; tickling him.

He glanced into the tunnel where his dad and the other rat had gone. He was all alone. Slowly, he slipped the silken robe from his shoulders and eased himself to the edge of the drop off until his small feet hung over the side. A wavering trail of crimson blood traced his movement. He stared into the rushing brown water below as he sat, hugging his sides with shivering arms. The water was deep and sloshed by powerfully. The current made a rushing, whispering sound that both soothed and frightened him.

His eyes wandered over the frothing surface down the tunnel to the large opening of the drain and wondered idly where it might lead. It didn't matter, he wasn't a good swimmer, not like Mikey. He could never hold his breath too long because of the coughing. As if on cue, another fit of coughing hit him. As it passed, he blinked his bleary eyes.

His dad hated him. No matter what he did, how well he performed or obeyed, it wasn't good enough. His dad was right. Two large tears welled and broke free. He sniffled but did nothing to wipe them away.

"I'm useless and stupid," he said quietly; voice drowned out by the crashing flow just beneath his toes.

With that, he scooted closer to the edge and slipped off. His little body only made the smallest of splashes as it hit the surface and was quickly dragged under by the speeding current.

A/N: Review? Pretty Please? Am I killing you? I'll tell you a secret...but only if you review...hee hee

(I have a BIG surprise planned for the next chapter)