A/N: Um… hi. *sheepish* For those who are still counting, it's been more than a year. Sorry about that. As usual, I know how the story is going to end, but I just got a bit bogged down in the murky middle part. I'm still not completely pleased with the writing in this, but I'm just going to bite the bullet and post it, because I know that if I don't then we'll never get this story finished. Onwards!

.:…:.

Chapter 10 – Meditations and Conversations

At some point, Ch'rell had closed his eyes for him. Probably all the better to laugh at his attempts to meditate. Now Raph floated in a dark space, trying to focus and sense Master Splinter's presence.

It wasn't working very well.

Don't mind me, thought Ch'rell with mock innocence. I'm just going to sit back and enjoy the show.

If he'd been in possession of his voice at that moment, Raph would have growled. You're loving this, aren't you, he thought at Ch'rell instead. He could feel the answering grin stretch itself over his teeth. Impatiently, he tugged his mind away again from the sensations of his physical body. He could remember Master Splinter chastising him as a child, when Michelangelo had first discovered his penchant for being incredibly irritating. "Just ignore him, my son," Splinter would tell him calmly, when Raph's teeth were grinding together so hard that his jaw might have cracked. "Just ignore him."

He could almost hear the note of weary patience in his father's voice. He caught the scent of incense, the brush of a velvet robe against his clumsy fingers. A small paw firm on his shoulder. And then, surprising him by its proximity, he heard Master Splinter's deep chuckle, instantly filling him with warmth. It was that rare, unguarded laugh that his father gave when one of this sons had truly taken him by surprise or amused him in some way. Raph didn't get to hear it all that often, but he treasured it every time. He let the rumble of it fill him now, as his Master's presence washed over him.

He knew that this was his father's core. It was something that he'd sensed the edges of in his previous training, but never before had he encountered it in all of its quiet glory. Splinter had opened to him, showing him what he had to seek within himself.

For the first time in – Raph couldn't even say how long – he felt safe. The relief of it left him aching.

He was inside a cosy, wood-panelled room. Sitting on the floor in front of him, looking him directly in the eyes, was a young Japanese man. Raphael had never seen him before, but this was Splinter's core, and he recognised him instantly. He was sitting in the presence of Master Yoshi. A great stillness came over him, a sense almost of holiness. Though he knew he was now deep in meditation, he could feel his own heart beating sturdily. Master Yoshi bowed to him in respect, and Raphael, wordless and not needing words, returned the gesture.

As he straightened up, the door behind Master Yoshi opened.

There had not been a door there before.

Raphael was no longer kneeling before Yoshi. Now he was the one standing in the doorway, inside a body that was not his own, suffused with a dark thrill of anticipation.

Unmoving, he watched as Hun entered through the doorway and as his attack took Master Yoshi by surprise. The larger man's fists smacked into flesh with the familiar sounds of violence. Raph was no longer in a surreal mental space of meditation; this was harsh, visceral, far too real.

As more Foot ninja entered the chamber, he saw Master Yoshi's eyes begin to widen with surprise, and the beginnings of fear.

Ties flew from the hands of the Foot ninja and bound Yoshi's wrists and ankles, holding his body immobile. Raphael stepped fully inside the room.

"Good evening, Yoshi," he said with cold metal in his voice. "I have desired to meet with you personally for quite some time now. I have some questions that I hope you can answer regarding some mutual acquaintances of ours."

Raphael stepped closer to Master Yoshi. His clawed gauntlet rested underneath the man's chin, tilting his face upwards to meet his gaze. He saw only defiance, but he was unimpressed. "Hun," he said to the enormous man beside him, "introduce our new friend to our methods of persuasion."

Hun's face broke into an unpleasant smirk. The ties that bound the kneeling man's wrists and ankles crackled to life, and he grunted in pain and shock as the electricity coursed through him. Raphael watched, with a mild sense of satisfaction. This little human pest had been interfering with his carefully laid plans for quite some time now. It was good to catch up with him and watch him squirm. Raphael always preferred his enemy on his knees before him – in their proper place.

When the man hung panting and limp in the ties, Raphael spoke. "We know that you are a Guardian. I have unfinished business with Mortu. You will tell me where to find him."

Yoshi said nothing, appearing quite calm except for his laboured breathing. After a few moments, Raphael nodded again to Hun.

He watched every minute of the methodic, business-like torture. To say that he enjoyed it would not be quite accurate. He had much higher aspirations than to cause pain, after all, and what use was the pain of this worthless human gnat? Hun, at least, seemed to be having fun. It was so easy to satisfy these humans and their delightfully violent urges.

Yoshi behaved as if his meaningless resistance was worth something. "Those who live without honour will end without honour," he ground out at the end of his strength, and Raphael almost could have been amused at the predictability of it. Humans and their bizarre concepts of honour. Growing mildly impatient, he reached the conclusion that he was wasting his time with this one. No matter. There were plenty of other paths to Mortu, other Guardians, and Raphael would get what he wanted in the end. He always did. That was his right.

He was distracted from his thoughts when Hun shrieked at the attack of a small rodent that had flown at him out of nowhere. Growing bored, he swiped the animal out of the way, sneering at Hun's pathetic whimpers. Raphael decided it was time to dispose of the garbage himself. He knew this at least would send a clear message to Mortu, though the coward would probably remain in hiding along with the rest of the Utrom unit under his command.

It didn't matter. Raphael was finished here. He raised his gauntlet, and barely bothered to glance into the man's eyes before he brought the sharp blades down. They cut through the flesh of the neck with remarkable ease. It was so quick that there was barely even any blood left on the metal.

He would leave his Foot soldiers to dispose of the body. His mind was already moving to more important matters as he left the chamber.

.:…:.

Raphael jerked out of meditation, or whatever it had been, with uncomfortable suddenness. Master Splinter was still sitting before him with his eyes peacefully closed. He didn't think his Sensei had witnessed the memory that Ch'rell had forced upon him, and Raph was glad. It had left him feeling dirty and depressed, as if he had defiled everything his family stood for. You stand for nothing, now,Ch'rell reminded him.

Master Splinter blinked his eyes open, apparently becoming aware that his student had left the meditative state. Ch'rell kept Raphael's face inscrutable, but Splinter did not appear discouraged. "I hope that today's exercise will assist you in the search for your own core, my son. You must be strong, Raphael. We will meditate again tomorrow."

.:…:.

Raphael was already losing track of time. His existence had narrowed to the openings of the dojo door in front of him, a series of visitors and meals and trips to the bathroom, watched over by a determined Donatello nursing his tranq-gun and at least one other vigilant brother. Ch'rell hadn't tried to make an escape again. Raph knew that he should feel relieved, but the passivity of his captor made him anxious. He could sense there were things Ch'rell was still hiding from him, cards that he had yet to play, and Raph had no idea what they were. There was so much that he had never known about the Shredder. He had never known that the Shredder could be patient, but it had become evident that Ch'rell had the ability as the days crawled past.

When the door opened the next time after his meditation session, Raphael thought that it was probably some time in the evening. He was expecting to see one of his brothers, but instead it was Casey who entered the dojo, his jaw set as if he were about to face a gang of Purple Dragons in a street fight.

"Mr. Jones," Ch'rell greeted him coolly.

Casey's mouth twisted. "Dude, don't call me that. It's weird enough as it is that I'm talking to an alien in my bud's brain. Don't start chucking 'Mr.' around."

"Sorry, Case," said Raph's voice more easily, "I dunno what I'm sayin' sometimes."

"Yeah, well, I reckon you know exactly what yer sayin', actually." Casey looked him up and down, and for a moment Raph thought he almost understood what the PDs must have felt when that self-assured gaze sized them up before a battle. He wondered if his friend was going to hit him. But Casey only stood a few feet away, looking down at him thoughtfully.

"So that pink, blobby creature is the thing pulling the strings of the Purple Dragons, huh? Wonder what Hun would say if he knew."

"Hun serves his purpose within my organisation. Knowledge is not something I require from him."

"Your organisation. Yeah. So how long have the Dragons been on your payroll, exactly?"

Raph tingled unpleasantly as Ch'rell sifted through his mind, pulling the threads together. "Ah," he breathed in understanding, "you wish to know if your dear father's murder was carried out under my command. I'm afraid your father was not significant enough to be of any particular importance to me. Of course, the Foot had probably associated with the Dragons before then, so your father's death may have occurred under my watch. But the dragons targeted people for protection money all the time – what?" he said at Casey's thunderous expression, "did you really think your family was some kind of special case?"

Raph thought he could hear Casey's teeth grinding together. "When you get outta Raph's head, I'm gonna squish you so fast that you'll pop."

"Are you really in a position to be making threats, Mr. Jones?"

"I don't see no chains locking me to the wall."

"I think you forget how vulnerable you are. Your friend Raphael, coward that he is, has betrayed all of your secrets to me. I know how to hurt you the most."

"The guys'll never let you go after April."

"Oh, it's not just April – they'd be expecting that. It's a shame – imagine what I could do to her in this body, with these hands. I could snap her bones like they were twigs. And she'd probably struggle, which would just make it worse for her."

Raph's stomach turned over at the images Ch'rell was conjuring up in his mind. April lying broken, three-fingered bruises covering her pale skin. Terror in her eyes as she looked up at him. Her mouth was moving, begging him with words he couldn't hear.

Raph rocked out from the vision, reeling from the intensity of it, just in time to hear Ch'rell finish a sentence:

"… your mother. I know her full name, the area of the town where she lives. I know she won't be expecting me."

What the fuck? Raph snarled, absolutely appalled at the look on Casey's face. Leave her outta this. He could sense Ch'rell about to retort, but then he stopped to consider.

Perhaps you are right… it does not serve my purposes for your friends to realise the extent of the knowledge I now have of their movements and locations.

Angel's apartment. April's new place, Casey's flat. The farm, he realised with a sinking feeling. Their last retreat, their safe place.

Not any more, Ch'rell thought, satisfied.

"Casey," April's voice came from the door, "is everything okay?"

"Uh…" he swallowed. "Yeah. No. This… is freakin' me out." He backed towards the door, not taking his eyes off Raph's chained figure. "C'mon, April. I don't think you wanna be in here."

April's mouth tightened at the corners, and rather than allowing herself to be ushered out she slipped past Casey and stepped further into the room. "I have some things that I want to say."

"You don't –" Casey began, but then he seemed to realise that she had made up her mind and wasn't going to be budged. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Okay," he said.

And then, after a moment, "Leo was right."

He let one hand rest on April's shoulder, and then left the dojo without saying another word.

April did not turn to watch him leave, but waited for the click of the door closing. When Casey was gone, she crossed the room steadily, a cool curiosity in her gaze.

Ch'rell examined her in return, without much interest. A weak one, Raph sensed his dismissal of her. He obviously hadn't bothered to read many of Raph's thoughts about April, if that was the conclusion he was coming to. Raph wasn't going to rush to correct him, though; let him under-estimate her. It was a lesson Raph had learned the hard way.

She kneeled in front of him, looking pensive. "So you're it, huh? You're the Big Bad. You're the one who's been giving my family hell. You're the one who burnt down my shop and tried to murder us all."

"Yes," said Ch'rell, bored, "I suppose I am."

"Did you ever think of maybe just getting a hobby?"

Ch'rell let the sarcasm bypass him completely. "We are in a curious situation, here," he said in Raph's voice. "You would very much like me out of your life forever, and you could so easily make it happen. All you have to do is unlock these chains, and I will get up and walk away with this body and leave you all in peace. Just let him go. I have seen into him, every secret compartment of his mind and heart, and I can tell you his life is not worth the risk you run. It's in your own best interests to be rid of him."

"Yes," April rolled her eyes, "and as a psychopathic murderer from outer space, I'm sure you'd be the greatest judge of human worth."

"I understand more about humanity than you can know, little girl. I've observed your ways for a thousand years."

"We still might surprise you."

Ch'rell raised an eye-ridge, an eerily Raph-like gesture. "Perhaps," he said, "but I very much doubt it."

.:…:.