Disclaimer – Sorry for the delay in updating, gentle readers. I had – PC problems. Long story short, all of my writing programs and emails uninstalled when my husband cleaned the system of an over-abundance of 'cookies'. The myriad of cyberspace-confections had clogged my PC system, causing my computer to freeze up more frequently than run the way it should, and thereby forcing me to reboot all the time. It was – frustrating as shell! Anyway, it wasn't the cookie removal process that killed my MS Word, but the recovery program that did the deed! Add to that the fact we couldn't find the original product key to reinstall my old MS Office writing program and I was dead in the water. We ended up having to buy a new one – the Professional version! Thank goodness my daughter is a student. She bought it for us at her university's student store and saved a bundle on $.

Still, it's so hard learning how to use new programs. I hate change. 'sighs' But, at least I'm writing again! Whoopee. :0)

Anyway, a kind reviewer hinted that chapter 10 seemed 'overwhelming' with all the italics. Honestly, I don't know what to do about that, other than NOT use italics. However, I like distinguishing present from past that way (or thoughts!). So, I tried to trim 10 up a bit (although it wasn't much) and then attacked this chapter a little differently. Yes, there will be flashbacks in italics, but I've tried to write most of Marie's past in present day mode. Not sure if it's an improvement, but I have to have some way to share Marie's back-story and have it stand out from the rest. :0)

Anyone who has a better idea with how to do that, feel free to PM me. I meant it; I'm all for learning to write better and more precise..

Ah, to write fluidly and with sparse use of words – that would be my personal miracle and achievement!

Chapter 11 – A Sense of Familiar

The instant Leonardo walked through the door leading to the stairs, light flooded the basement below. He smiled. Given the type of security measures that Don had already discovered on the property, Leo wasn't surprised with the automated lighting system. In fact, he made a mental note to have Don outfit their basement back at the farm with a similar convenience.

However, as he descended the stairs, Leo felt an unsettling disturbance come over him. Despite two decades of peaceful living, reflexes born from years of fighting told him that something wasn't right. Instinctively, he reached over his shoulder and grabbed one of his swords. As Leonardo unsheathed it, the soft 'shring' of steel whispering readiness, the moment he walked off the last step, the turtle in blue turned his back to the wall behind him. Now facing the interior of the basement, Leo scanned the area suspiciously.

Above him, Don stood in the opened doorway, watching his brother. The moment he saw Leonardo's posture switch from relaxed to apprehensive – and especially when he unsheathed one sword, the genius turtle's jovial mood changed immediately. In response, Donatello reached for his own weapon, and called out, mindful to keep his voice low, "Hey, Leo, what's going on?"

His brother replied with a sharp look of annoyance and quickly placed one forefinger to his beak, signaling for quiet. Don understood and communicated that with a single nod, yet a disturbing thought suddenly came to mind.

Maybe the woman isn't living alone after all.

With staff in hand, Donatello stepped through the door and towards the stairs, ready to join his brother. He paused, however, when Leonardo gestured for him to stop. Reluctantly, Don complied, still not liking what he was sensing from Leo. Yet, his brother had taken only one sword from his back, so that meant whatever had worried him wasn't too dangerous, not yet anyway. Waiting for his brother's next set of orders, Don stood at the top of the stairs, keeping his bo in position, just in case.

x x x x x x x

In a another room, not far away, Marie stood there in her dojo, back to the common wall linking her room with the basement, thinking back through the years and to that moment when she opened the desk drawer in her father's secret chamber. She remembered well debating the wisdom of doing so and deciding that her father would not install explosive devices in his private abode. She recalled how confident she felt when opening it, too.

"So young…so foolish," she murmured, glaring at the steel-wrapped mannequin across from her, "…and lucky!"

Nevertheless, what she had first found in that drawer had delighted her. There were hundreds of files, all filled with paperwork, all in alphabetical order. Methodically working her way through the collection, Marie had quickly discovered that her father had a record on everyone who ever worked for him or had even the simplest affiliation with the Foot. Some names she recognized, with half of those names deceased, and some she didn't recognize at all. The sordid details of espionage and assassinations, the damning blackmail, the photos of important men in compromising positions; Marie's father certainly knew what it took to control his underlings.

Then, the woman found something that had truly shocked her and would forever change her opinion about the Foot and her place in the clan…

When Marie found a file with her name on it, she hesitated. What if Father had a way of spying on me that even I could not detect? she worried.

With that thought in mind, another concern filled her heart, one of apprehension. It nearly stopped her heart. What if he found out about my meetings with Leonardo?

Marie's brief friendship with her clan's greatest enemy had surprised her at the time; it was the last thing she had expected would happen. Nevertheless, Leonardo's earnest concern for her well-being and the gentle smile he would give her whenever they would meet outside the battle zone filled a void in Marie's heart that her father's 'love' was incapable of doing. Although she couldn't honestly say that she loved the mutant, there was a kinship, a bond formed because of Leonardo's honorable nature. He had shown her a different side to her father's assessment of the mutant terrapin.

Standing in her underground dojo, her face devoid of emotion, Marie thought back to those times, and sighed deeply. Although her relationship with Leonardo had never gone beyond the few conversations they had or the single longing gaze she once stole of him (hinting of feelings so deep that it shocked her), one thing was certain. Leonardo's single, solitary act of permanently removed her father from her life had effectively ruined what opportunity she might have had to find out just how far their friendship could have gone. She had more than made up for her transgressions, too; at least after twenty years of reflection, she hoped so.

Once more, feelings stirred within her, a mixture of regret and anger, conflicting and churning, like opposing magnetic poles competing for dominance, and she felt her throat constrict.

x x x x x x x x

Satisfied with Don's cooperation, Leo resumed his inspection of the room. He held his position for a moment, but when no attack came, he relaxed just a little, keeping his back to the wall. He felt Don relax, too, but something still felt 'off' to him.

Quite puzzling, Leo thought to himself, I would have bet my shell there was someone else down here with me.

For the moment, Leonardo ignored his concerns and took in his general vicinity. To his left and aligned with the same wall as the stairs, the turtle in blue noticed a washer and dryer, and beyond that, a double set of tall, pantry-like cabinets. In addition, there were smaller cabinets adhered to the wall above the two appliances.

Probably filled with cleaning supplies, he thought, but from where he stood, Leo couldn't tell.

Stepping away from the stairs to get a better view, Leo smiled in confirmation, and quickly inventoried laundry detergent, softener, and insect sprays, all the typical stuff that most laundry rooms – or basements – had. He noted a few gallon-sized cans of paint on the shelves, as well, with uneven drips of neutral colors striping their sides. He recognized some of the colors from what he had seen upstairs in the various rooms and he smiled. The bit the normalcy the basement offered, between the appliances, the sprays, and the paint, reminded him of his own home, yet…the 'something' that he had felt a moment earlier definitely wasn't normal. He sharpened his focus more, now, certain that he wasn't alone.

x x x x x x x x

Emotions so strong Marie felt that any moment she would drown under their weight, the woman determinedly denied them – and succeeded. With the door leading to the basement to her left, she stared across the room towards her father's armor. It seemed to stare back accusingly and Marie truly wondered if she had indeed atoned for her sins. Although nothing in her father's personal account of her life suggested he knew about her secret meetings with Leonardo, the fact that she consorted with the enemy stamped her guilty of treason, regardless of how long it had been or how loyal she was to her father and the Foot clan. Of course, eventually she had faked her death to leave the Foot. It was a coward's way out, though, a dishonorable exit, and Marie knew that only the business end of a sword could redeem her. She sighed and wondered that if she had lost courage then, would she be able to commit seppuku now if honor demanded it?

Marie shook her head, not knowing where all of this would eventually lead her. She used to be so – cutthroat, so absolute where it concerned honor, so aware of her place in the world. However, back then, she lived by another understanding of honor and since its demise, she had learned differently.

Dismissing her growing doubt and not at all eager to explore it further, Marie furthered her recollection of her past that eventually started her downward spiral towards oblivion…

According to her personal biography, written by Saki himself, he had found her living in squalor, just as he had told her long ago. And, according to what he wrote, she was a very angry and very frightened five-year old.

This hadn't been news. Marie remembered well the day Saki found her. Sitting inside a run-down shack, starving, cold...and angry with the world. She had glared at the man, challenging him to hurt her, wishing for death, and scared, very, very scared. No, that memory would always be with her and though what she eventually learned of her father had been distasteful and caused her to leave tradition behind, he had given her a life rich in earthly provisions.

What was news, however, was his admittance about feeling some sense of compassion for her. Even then, he followed his admittance with dismissing it as a momentary weakness. Simply put, he wrote that he needed an heir. It didn't matter what gender, the fact was that he needed one - wanted one. He had admitted that marrying wasn't for him. Consequently, when he found Marie in the poorest part of the city, huddling fearfully in a run-down shanty shack, abandoned, he thanked the gods for his good fortune.

Next to his confession, there had been a footnote and it puzzled Marie at the time. He had written in the margin next to it, "If not for my informant's research into her lineage…I might still be looking for an heir!"

Now, she knew what he meant by 'informant', but two decades earlier, it had been a mystery.

Still, it couldn't compare to the next part of his journal regarding how he found her. That part nearly made her sick. Twenty years later, it still affected her. She had been so shocked at the time, that she could hardly breathe. Even now, in remembrance, Marie found her breath thick with emotion.

As she read his personal account of her early years, it seemed that Saki hadn't exactly 'found' her as he once told her. Her parents hadn't exactly died, either, which meant that she wasn't as orphaned as he once led her to believe. It appeared that - and this was what would rock her world - Oruku Saki had purchased her! He gloated in writing how he had threatened her parents with death and how they cowered before him. They were poorer than poor, so they didn't have much in the way to deny him.

She didn't remember any of that, only that her parents disappeared one day and she wandered the streets for days, always returning to what she had called home. The man that came to her, offering her food and warmth, and eventually his home and his name, rescued her. That was what he told her. For years and until that night she discovered his secret room that was what she believed, too.

Initially, right after reading his admittance, Marie had felt an anger so hot, that it made her tremble. How could anyone coerce a parent into selling their child? Then again, Marie knew that Saki could be quite convincing, she understood that. Moreover, her country's history told of how ninja would steal or barter for children and raise them as their own, training them to be sacrificial soldiers for the clan. Yes, Marie believed for years that she was one of the lucky ones, the ones rescued from neglect due to abandonment. Saki had indeed provided for her, giving her things her parents probably never could, affording her an inheritance of money that for years she had squirreled away into a private, obscure account long before she decided to leave the Foot. Just the same, to find out that her adoptive father had purchased her like some slab of meat? It seemed barbaric to the woman, despite her understanding of such practices, and still seemed that way even now, despite the fact that the results had given her the means to seek a new life in the backcountry of Massachusetts.

As Marie remembered that night and all that she had learned about her beginnings from her father's secret files, her anger then had quickly replaced her previous self-doubts. Because, as she had read further, he wrote that in the weeks following his adopting Marie, he had her parents killed!

"Humph…and why should I have been surprised," she lamented, still affected by the discovery twenty years earlier. She knew that, as was always the case in the Foot clan, leave no trail, leave no trace, and dispose of those who served such secrets.

And, it seemed that Marie's parents indeed had a secret.

For a moment, the woman felt another tear escape and slide quickly down her face, but she wiped it way and swallowed hard. Tears would not bring back her parents. Crying would not restore her childhood. Weeping would only further dishonor her.

Honor…amazing how the years have distorted, or maybe they've corrected, Father's version of the word! She wanted to laugh at the thought, but instead uttered a single, short sob.

x x x x x x x x

As Leonardo further assessed the basement, he saw a row of boxes along the north wall running southeast and horizontal from the storage pantry. They were somewhat worn, probably packing boxes left over from when the woman had first moved in, he reasoned. He didn't see any discernable markings, though, nor did he see enough room behind them for someone or something to hide, other than spiders, and so Leo relaxed. He chuckled, though, thinking about Raphael, knowing how much his brother hated the arachnids.

Nevertheless, he looked around and turned to face the opposite side from the stairs. There, he noticed a row of freestanding, backless shelves, positioned side by side like soldiers, and each one six-foot tall. They ran from the back wall where the boxes were and towards the wall behind the stairs. There seemed to be seven of the bookcase-style cabinets, all opened in the back, with the combined number making up a single row, effectively dividing the room.

However, the shelves were lightly filled with the woman's personal belongings, some in boxes, some bold and obvious with what they were. The sparsely populated areas, though, allowed Leo to see behind them to another line of identical storage cabinets, with a space in-between for walking. Not all the shelves seemed filled on them, either, which enabled Leo to see yet another row behind that one. The shelves at the very back appeared less open than the first two, with most filled with a mishmash of items, thereby effectively obscuring the wall behind it.

Regardless, all three rows ran almost uninterrupted from the northeast side of the basement towards the southernmost wall. Four feet shy of connecting the two opposing walls, the rows ended, creating an entry to allow access to the other rows of shelves behind the first. And, as Leo noted that fact, his brow crinkled with confusion.

There's just something not right about this place. This room doesn't seem right, it seems – too small, compared to the size of the house upstairs.

Leo suddenly looked up at his brother, still standing at the opened doorway, and whispered, "How big do you think the basement is, Don?"

Unable to see all of the room below from where he stood, Donatello shrugged and replied with equal care, "As big as the first floor, I assumed, considering how hollow the floors sounded."

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too, but…" Leo pointed towards the basement's ceiling, "It's only as big as the living room upstairs."

"Can't be, it has to be bigger than that, I mean, I didn't sense any slab foundation at all when we explored the first level."

"Right! My thoughts exactly, which means…"

"Which means, there must be another room down there!"

Leo shook his head, "No, the basement seems to end at the stairs leading to the second story in the living room."

Don's brow pinched together in confusion, "Really? But…" and then his eyes widened and he whispered excitedly, "Maybe there's a secret room with another way in!"

"Yeah, or one with a hidden door…"

"Like our lair in New York?"

"Exactly, only…different, maybe part of something unsuspecting." Like storage cabinets, Leo thought to himself.

"Be careful, Leo! Could be a trap!"

"Yeah, right. But, why would a woman like her create a trap?" his brother countered, almost laughing.

"Why would a woman like her have such a sophisticated perimeter security system?" Don countered with a quirked brow.

Leo stared up at Don and then back at the point of interest, nodding in reluctant agreement, "Yeah, why indeed."

Confident that whatever had bothered him wasn't in his immediate vicinity, the mutant turtle stepped further into the basement. He gave a careful glance at the ceiling above but found only the sub flooring of the living room from the first floor. There wasn't enough room between the support beams there for adequate hiding opportunities, but he still didn't relax, keeping his sword up, just in case.

He turned his attention to the series of storage shelves, again, waiting, studying the area. Satisfied that they posed no immediate threat, he went over and inspected the area behind the stairs. Where they weren't the solid backed variety, their openness prevented any kind of hiding place. When all he saw were a bicycle and more boxes, Leo relaxed a little more. However, something about the boxes grabbed his attention. There seemed to be strange writing on their sides and Leo recognize it right away.

Japanese Kanji? What in the world…?

From what he could read, it said the boxes had shipped directly from Tokyo, Japan, sent to a 'Mrs. Smith' –stamped in English - and by some auction house called The Black Dragon Antiques. His eye-ridges rose in sudden surprise and then he smiled, murmuring quietly, "Certainly explains her Samurai weapons. Must be a collector of Japanese artifacts. Hmm…interesting."

Suddenly, Leo felt another disconcerting and stronger emotion and so he closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. After slowly expelling it, he focused on the feeling and concentrated, and then his eyes popped open. He snapped his head around to the left and glared towards the wall against where the third storage shelf rested. There, somewhere beyond the wall behind the last set of cabinets, someone was…crying. He couldn't hear it but he could most certainly sense it.

After making sure that the area behind the stairs was clear of any unseen threat and resisting the urge to inspect the intriguing boxes, Leo made his way around far end of the first line of freestanding shelves and found that the light barely registered there. Shadows now greeted him and every fiber of his being set itself on edge. What he sensed coming from the last row, or more precisely beyond the last row, seemed all too familiar to him. It was a feeling he hadn't sensed in a long time, and one that Leonardo was certain should not exist!

Consequently, Leonardo tightened his grip around the hilt of his sword and wondered if the next few minutes would soon demand its twin.

TBC