Chapter 10

Once Leo had been bandaged, sewn back together and rolled to the side of the room to recover and sleep, the lair fell into a heavy, oppressive silence. Karai hadn't expected to be left in the same room as Leonardo and wondered if anyone thought it was a bad idea. Not that she could really do any harm, still handcuffed to the cot. And she wouldn't, anyway. Hurt him. None of this was his fault. And besides that, he'd suffered enough while in the custody of the organization that she once held in high esteem. They preached honor at every turn. They extolled the higher virtues of purity and focused determination towards achieving goals. Purity. Goals. These sentiments coiled and writhed like a living thing inside of her body, cramping her with venom. She'd been proud of her place within the clan; was going to rule it one day, no doubt. It was her birthright. To take her father's place . . . her father.

The Shredder.

Guilt and disgust, anger and horror poured through her body to pool in her middle, creating a sick muddy torrent of mixed emotions. Poisoned thoughts. Shards of memories. The girls. The crying in the night that would wake her; confused and groggy and each time she'd brush away the nightmares. It was easier to believe the sounds were from her dreams and not really coming from down that hall. Not really coming from her father's room in the middle of the night. The pleading. The cries of pain. The Foot clan was built on a foundation of innocent blood, spilled in the most heinous of ways. She wouldn't go back there if they all fell on their knees and begged her. She would rather die.

She lay, facing the wall, her free arm slung across her face, her hand dangling over her shoulder. Her left arm was twisted behind her, her left wrist still held by the cuff, securing her to the cot's frame. She had no desire to attempt an escape, not now, maybe never again, she wasn't sure. There was nowhere to escape to, anyway. It was as if all the fire inside of her had been put out in one fell swoop, leaving her thick and sloppy inside, watery and weak. Nothing had a solid shape inside or out. Her eyes ached from the long withheld tears of a lifetime pouring free. Spilling out until there were no more to give. Karai couldn't believe how much her gluey eyelids ached after crying so much. How little relief it brought. Her heart was just as heavy as before. Just as confused and frightened.

And though the last thing she wanted to dwell on was her childhood and the role the Shredder had played in it, she couldn't help but focus there on that sore subject, like the tip of your tongue prodding the gooey wound near a tooth. Every act of discipline given to her reevaluated, every look, every touch – she shivered - every command, seemed to hold sinister double meanings. The world, once vibrant and full of every possibility, now was a colorless gray. Within the gray stalked a long shadow with piercing eyes and evil lustful desires; twisted and nightmarish.

She was lost in doubt and fear. She didn't know to whom or where she belonged. Didn't know who she was supposed to be anymore. Karai only knew that she would not go back. It felt as though she'd been carved out like a pumpkin and discarded, but she held fast to gratitude. He'd never touched her. Her chest tightened and she groaned from the pain.

"What a sick thing to have to thank god for," she whispered aloud and then clamped her lips shut, realizing too late that she'd broken the quiet of the room.

She peered over her shoulder at the form of Leonardo laying on the cot only a few feet away from her. She'd never been so scared in all her life as she was when they all finally left the room; left her alone with the wreckage of Leonardo's body; listening to the pained breathing and the occasional soft mewling that chipped cracks into the hard lining of her heart. Until she was left aching for his pain, despite her usual feigned disinterest and disregard for him. She couldn't look at him too long and dropped her eyes; feeling the weight of irrational but very real responsibility for the state he was in.

She lay, drifting between incoherent half-formed thoughts of what she'd learned of her fath- no, she did not want to think of him as that, not that. Not ever again. She clenched her hands to fists. The Shredder. He was only that. Nothing more to her. Never again. Still, the bulky weight of guilt continued to press her down into the cot. So heavy and real, it might as well have been cinderblocks laid upon her body.

There was nothing she could do to make this right. Was there? Perhaps, one thing. But even as she thought the word: obedience, she felt the phantom noose around her throat. It still would be better to be a slave to a kindly mutant than a willing servant to a disgusting fiend.

The sound of her own shallow breathing was in her ears, but suddenly intruding, the smallest of sounds pierced through. Karai's head tipped slightly up from the pillow, her cheek damp from the wet spot her tears had made. She didn't mean to tune in each time he moaned, but something in her couldn't make her stop from straining to hear him. Was she punishing herself? She chewed her swollen lip and relished the pain. Maybe she was.

If she had never been born, none of this would have happened. What a thing for her to think. Pathetic, she chastised herself, but it was without fire. Because the thought was true. All of this, in some way was because of her. It was at the same time, none of her fault and all her fault. She turned her head and slowly made her body follow. It felt stiff and sore as she sat up, rubbing at her shoulder.

"Mmmpf . . . meephf."

Leo made the sound again and she watched as his body flinched and jumped beneath the blanket. He shuddered and a shiver went through her. His legs kicked and the blanket slipped from him. Still chewing on her lip, she edged forward to the end of her cot. Her eyes scanned the criss-crossing bandages that covered his limbs; reminding her of a mummy's wrappings. Every inch of his arms and legs were bandaged. He was trembling and making that heartbreaking little sound. Karai had never heard any of them make such a noise before. Even when injured. And it was hurting her on many levels to see Leonardo this way.

He was their leader. He was so good. He didn't deserve what had befallen him. It was no way to treat a respected enemy. It was no way to treat anyone. The Shredder was a monster. She had lived under his shadow her entire life, looking up to him, following him blindly. She really was blind, she thought bitterly, for it to take something as horrible as this to open her eyes and see him for what he truly was.

He called them freaks. He called them abominations. When under his own flesh stood the true monster. Leonardo turned his head from right to left and back again, in jerking, slow movements.

Her eyes went to the blanket on the floor. She stretched and with the very tips of her middle and index fingers snagged the blanket. She bunched it up in her fist and straightened up. Her eyes widened as she heard the noises he was making turn to actual words. Slurred and mumbled, but clear enough to make out what he was saying.

"L-Lemme . . . mmmno. D-Don't . . . puh . . . mmphf . . ." he twisted his head to the side and Karai could clearly see his distress on his pinched face. She swallowed and made to fling the blanket back over him. It hit him and he jumped, yelping as though she'd just struck him with a shruiken. He shook his head again, kicked his heels, and much louder cried out, "No . . . No! Ple-ase! Ah-gah!" His teeth ground together. "Mmpf! No!"

Karai tried desperately to get the blanket back on him, making it worse with every failed attempt. She shook her head in mounting frustration and anger at herself. "I'm sorry. Oh, fuck already!" she hissed.

"What are you doing!?"

Splinter's outraged shout and flashing eyes had her quailing and jerking away until her back hit the wall and she flinched. The chain of her cuff rattled. The blanket and her attempts at making Leo more comfortable forgotten.

"I-I wasn't . . . I just . . . he knocked it off and I-I thought he'd be c-cold. I-I wasn't trying to hurt him."

He stormed into the room and tossed her plate at her. The food bounced and tumbled onto the bed as he rushed to Leonardo's side. Leo was squirming and crying now, loud sobbing gasps and pleas for the Shredder to stop. The sound of it had Karai covering her mouth and then pressing her shaking hand to her sweating forehead. She looked at the potatoes and sliced ham with a turning stomach. She wouldn't be able to eat. She had no appetite.

"Leonardo, be still. Be still."

Raphael stormed into the room and the energy he brought with him was dark and angry. Karai felt it come off him in waves. He cast his narrowed gaze at her and it was so full of loathing she dropped her eyes immediately, feeling her face flush. There was so much hate in that gaze, it seared her. But a wave of defiant anger rose up in her. She would not let this one intimidate her, especially if she was going to have to remain here with them. She'd have to show him that she wasn't afraid. That she would never be. Not of him or anyone. She tipped her chin back up but he was already next to Splinter near Leo.

"Raphael, I do not need your assistance. I suggest you go meditate on what we discussed earlier."

"No," came the growling reply.

Splinter spun on him and knocked him back with the heel of his hand. His heels scrambled back and he nearly fell to the floor, but righted himself quickly. Surprised hurt was replaced with fury on Raphael's face.

"You will not continue to defy me. Go to the dojo. Now. You will hold the weights out until I tell you to stop. Is that perfectly clear?"

Raphael clenched his jaw, fierce eyes bouncing back and forth as he and his master stared each other down but ultimately, the years of being the obedient child to Master Splinter could not be spurned. He was still his father. No matter how angry he felt. He still had a modicum of respect for Splinter, though it was dying a sure and steady death within his heart, replaced with a seething hurt that was simmering into a full boil, threatening to spill over onto himself and everyone around. He spun on his heel and marched out, throwing Karai another look. This time there was something beneath the hatred, a warning; a promise of violence to come; silent but ultimately clear.

Karai swallowed, feeling suddenly vulnerable beneath that look. Watch him, her inner voice cautioned, he wants to take this out on you. He's going to do something bad to you, if he gets the chance.

"S-Sensei?"

Karai gasped. The weak voice had Splinter whirling around. He fell to the side of Leonardo's cot.

"My son. You are awake."

Leonardo blinked, wondering why he was laying in the infirmary, wondering why his body was wrapped and aching. But mostly, why his left arm and hand were hurting him so badly, cramping and aching like it was caught in a machine's grinding metal spokes. He grimaced and his breath hitched and panted.

"You are in pain." He turned to rifle through the various bottles on the table near Leonardo. He shook his head in irritation. He'd need Donatello's help. He called for his son and Donnie appeared a moment later, casting nervous glances around until he spotted Leonardo's eyes and saw they were open.

"Oh my gosh! Leo, you're awake. Should I go get Raph and Mikey?"

Splinter shook his head. "He is in pain. I want you to give him," he motioned to the bottles, "something to help."

Donatello hurried across the room and grabbed a bottle and spilled two large white pills into his palm. He opened a water bottle and handed both to Master Splinter. Leonardo sat up and groaned. Master Splinter supported him and moved the pillows to help him into the upright position.

"My . . . arm and h-hand. Th-They hurt. A lot," he rasped from between gritted teeth, his voice rising into a whine.

Donatello exchanged a worried glance with Master Splinter.

"Leo," Don started but his voice died, too weak with the terror of having to tell his brother that his arm and hand could not be hurting because they were gone.

Leonardo stared for a moment at the water and then slowly, by inches, his eyes rose up to meet his father's, then, seeing the dread written there, he turned to look as he brought up his left arm. Instead of his hand, there was only space. The rest of his arm from the elbow down was gone. He made a soft desperate sound in the back of his throat as Splinter stiffened and Donnie grabbed his mouth. Leonardo stared at the absence of his limb for a few oppressive seconds and no one moved or spoke. It was as though they all held their collective breath; bracing for his reaction. He closed his eyes.

Shakily, he finally said, "Oh yeah." He swallowed and eased his arm down, trembling. Master Splinter saw a pearl of sweat break out on his son's head and roll down to his jaw. "I . . . They . . . h-he cut it . . . off." He blanched and Splinter thought he'd be sick, or pass out, but Leonardo managed to control himself. Blinking he turned his red rimmed eyes to his father. "Could I have that, now? I don't know why, but it . . . it hurts." A tear broke free and rolled down Leonardo's cheek.

"Yes. Of course." Splinter's hands shook badly as he handed the water to his son and then gently placed the pills into his boy's mouth; placing them on his tongue. His heart clenched painfully.

He swallowed and drank deeply. He closed his eyes and sighed. Then he opened them again and looked at Splinter.

"I'm . . . home?" he asked, feeling foolish for even asking such an obvious question.

Donatello stood behind Master Splinter. They nodded almost in unison. Leonardo considered the facts. His bottom lip trembled a little.

"Why?" he whispered, staring at the water bottle in his hand, resting on his stomach.

"Not now, Leonardo. We will discuss it when you are stronger. When you can attend me in my room. Then you can tell me what went wrong while you were in the Shredder's custody."

He blinked in confusion at that and turned a somewhat fearful look at Master Splinter.

"What went . . . wrong?"

Donatello was staring at the back of Splinter's head with an intense frown.

"Yes. But you can explain what happened and why you were punished so, uh," he cleared his throat, "severely when you are stronger."

Uneasy thoughts stampeded through Leonardo's mind as Splinter straightened and he dropped his gaze back to the water bottle. He wasn't sure where it was coming from, but he sensed the cloying pull of guilt along the edges of his stomach. I did something wrong? Images fluttered past his mind's eye. Hands gripping, pinning, yanking. Pain spearing into him, but something else. No. He didn't want to remember. But he did.

It came back to his mind with the force of a wrecking ball. Something terrible, shameful he'd done, as his hand . . . the Shredder's hand, slid and then dug between his legs; his fingers finding the shielding flesh and pulled it back, slipping his fingers to find him tucked safely away, but then stroking and caressing as he whispered into his ears; pornographic words, erasing his innocence, blotting his soul with spots of humiliation and shame that would never wash away. And still, rubbing and pulling . . . until . . . he couldn't help it. He emerged with a groan.

And then the feelings. The terror and pleading for him to stop as the waves of pleasure started. And the Shredder's breath on his neck, chuckling at him through it. All the while stroking, firmly, quicker and quicker until . . . it happened. The crippling pleasure, so horrible, as his body jerked and bucked through the pain, into it, somehow, splitting his mind in two; one side in agony, the other in the white wild haze of climatic release. Then as it was happening, worst of all, making that sound. That shameful, churring and the Shredder's laughter raining over him as it rolled out of him, unable to make it stop, the repeating rumbling reverberating sound of his debasement. Again and again. Over and over through the night. It happened. And each time as he lay panting between the Shredder's assaults, his fevered mind swore he would not allow it to happen again. He would not. But it was no use. He was weak. Leonardo's face flushed deeply.

The Shredder hurt him, kept using him all night; until he could fight no more, but lay there, hurting as the Shredder ground into him, splinting him into pieces with his body and his blades; but why . . . he shouldn't have responded like that . . . why did he . . .? A tremor went through him. He was so pathetically weak.

He shouldn't have allowed any of that to happen. He was disgusting. It was as if part of him had enjoyed it. But he didn't. He didn't want that to happen. He just couldn't stop it. His body betrayed him. He had no control. He was no ninja. He had brought shame to his family in the worst possible way. And somehow, he suddenly knew, that was it. His Sensei knew. But how?

He wouldn't dare meet his father's eyes. He couldn't take what he knew he'd find there: disappointment, revulsion, shame. Something like glue moved sluggishly through his stomach. He'd failed. Somehow he was supposed to not have allowed this to happen and he failed. His searching mind tried to think of how he could have avoided the events. They were muddled up in his mind; the fight, the men in the bathroom, the blade, the Kraang, the Shredder, the bedroom, the floor . . . calling him Father. If he'd fought harder with the men . . . if he'd told the Shredder to kill him instead of being so weak and pathetic that he called him by that title. That was how he failed. He should have fought to the death. He should have never allowed the Shredder to make him his pet. His stomach knotted and his breath hitched.

Splinter clamped a claw on his shoulder, squeezed it painfully, snapping him from his thoughts. He cringed at the contact, shrinking back into the pillow propping him up.

"For now, rest. Tomorrow you should have strength enough to tell me everything," Splinter said and turned to go.

Everything. He will make me tell him. He knows. But he's going to make me say it. He will make me say how my body betrayed me, but he will not believe me when I tell him I couldn't make it stop and then he will turn his back on me. His heart began to pound and his left arm and hand throbbed and ached, itched and cramped. Leonardo started to tremble.

Donatello approached him and knelt next to the cot. His eyes roved over his brother's face, noticing how he was shaking and thought it was because of the pain he was suffering. "Hey, bro," he said and had to wrestle the tears back. Leonardo blinked rapidly and focused his glassy eyes on him. Then Leo gave him a ghost of a smile; stealing away his breath. He wanted to be strong for his brother; his brave, courageous brother who had just lived through the unimaginable and sat here, in terrible pain, trying to smile reassuringly at him. The world was spinning and he could barely remain upright. He wanted to say something. He didn't know what to say. But he had to tell him.

He opened his mouth and licked his licked his lips. Dry and drier.

Don wanted to tell Leo how glad he was that he was alive. That he was so impressed with how brave he'd been from the moment Splinter told him what was going to happen to the moment he opened his eyes just now. He wanted to tell Leo that he wished he could take it all away. To make a time machine so that he could steal him away before the dreaded past thirty-six hours or so never could happen. If only he were smarter. If only he could've talked sense into his father. If he'd been cleverer, he could've come up with a way to get Karai to join them, or even a way to steal her into the lair. But he didn't and he wasn't. Not then. Not now. He couldn't even think of what to say to his amazing brother sitting in front of him, enduring it all.

He wanted to tell him he wasn't alone, despite knowing that's probably exactly how Leo had felt these past hours. So alone. Afraid. Abandoned. He could at least try to make him know that they were so worried, every minute. Every second.

"Oh, Leo. We . . . We were all so . . ."

Splinter's sharp tone interrupted him, "Donatello, let him rest."

He turned his head but did not look at Master Splinter, feeling that strange chill go through him again. Suddenly engulfing him. Numbing away the confusion. Blotting out the pain. It was cold, but it didn't hurt. It was a comfort of sorts and he felt himself embrace it without consciously choosing. He should have been amazed at how easily he could suddenly switch off his emotions. He should have been concerned. But he wasn't. He was only cold. He stood up stiffly.

He said in an even voice, "I'll make you some broth."

Leonardo nodded and chewed his bottom lip, unsure if he could really eat anything, but not wanting to deny his brother's attempt at helping. Maybe if he ate, things would seem a little better. Broth. Warm broth. That sounded good, actually. He shook and shook and hoped the warmth from the soup would ease his trembling. Donatello left, following behind Master Splinter without another word.

Leonardo's eyes rose and locked with the only other occupant in the room. His galloping heart was in his throat and he felt dizzy and strangely, very afraid.

"I would hate me, if I were you," she said, her voice low and whispering.

A/N: Sorry that took so long to update - I've written a couple of short pieces and added them to my Drabbles if you wanted to check them out in the interim. I will do my best to update this and I, Alone once a week. I appreciate your patience! xoxoxo