Hello all!

Okay, so...I know I said that this chapter would be from Leo's point of view...but it didn't happen (Please don't hurt me!) LOL I was going to have a very brief part with Catherine and her thoughts on what had happened between her and Raph, but apparently she thinks too much so...yeah. But I promise next chapter will be Leo:) (Raph fans, I am sure you are not disappointed) LOL

A huge thank you as always to my lovely reviewers Adventuresstime, ImpartingAbyss, cocoagurl, The Nerdfighter, I love kittens too, SleepingSeeker, CrazyGeekyLove, Redxcanary and Ougi-san. You guys are sooo awesome!

and now...please enjoy

Chapter 13

Catherine stared at Raphael's retreating carapace and resisted the urge to throw something at him; preferably something big enough and heavy enough to knock some sense into that thick skull of his. She looked at the empty beer bottle and the two plates and decided that they weren't big enough or heavy enough to do the job.

Eyes settling upon the wooden chair she seriously contemplated hefting that up and lobbing it at him, but by this time Raphael had already vanished into the house and a few moments later she heard the front door slam shut.

Glancing back at the bottle and two plates she resisted the urge to pick up and throw all three breakable objects at the side of the house -just to relieve some of her anger- but decided against it because then she would have to clean up the mess. Instead she took a deep, calming breath and made a mental note to make sure that the next time she went to the lair, to bring some food because Raphael was apparently not getting enough to eat, which meant that the other brothers weren't getting enough to eat either.

She looked up at the night sky, illuminated as it was by an artificial orange glow, which obscured the stars above. She wished she could see the twinkling, celestial lights because she missed being able to see. She missed Canada and its wide open spaces, the brightness of the stars and the brilliant light show given off by the Aurora Borealis in winter.

She liked her job and she liked the Brownstone, but it wasn't home.

Not that she had any fixed definition of 'home', she'd had one once, and parents too for that matter, but that had been a long time ago.

Pulling off her hat she ran her hands through her hair before pulling the scoodie back onto her head to keep the evening chill of early May away. She had been planning on going to the hair dresser to get her hair re-dyed tomorrow, but Raphael's parting comment of 'I don't like you and I hate your hair' made her perversely want to keep it just as it was; red streaks and all.

She clenched her teeth together in irritation. She and Raphael had called a truce. He had promised that he would try to be nice to her, and that promise had lasted all of two minutes before he had insulted her.

Letting out a huff of air, she walked over to the chair where she had sat, picking up her glass and drinking down the rest of the water. Then she walked over to the chair where Raphael had sat. She scooped up the two plates and the beer bottle, which he had stacked upon the ground.

"And the jerk didn't even thank me for the meal," she grumbled to herself under her breath.

She had hoped that Leonardo would come tonight, but had strongly suspected that Raphael would show up instead. And so she had bought Raphael's favourite beer when she had purchased the ingredients for dinner. By ten after seven, she had known that her message hadn't been delivered. She had planned for dinner to be closer to eight anyway so it hadn't been ruined when Leonardo hadn't arrived. She supposed that she had taken a gamble in believing that Raphael would show up, but figured that if he didn't then she would just have leftovers for tomorrow. It wasn't as if she was cooking a huge formal dinner with wine and candles or anything anyway.

And so while she waited to start dinner she used the extra time to clean up the kitchen after she had made the burgers and fries. Before she had placed anything on the grill and before she even started the fries she had peeled out the front window. Her eyes had scanned the darkness and had managed to catch the movement of a darker shadow against the darkness, sitting upon the building opposite the Brownstone. Unlocking the door she had gone to begin dinner.

And then Raphael had shown up, just when the burgers were almost done, furious and yelling at her because she had left the door open. She was surprised by his concern and his anger, though considering the lives he and his brothers had led, it was no surprise that he would jump to the worst possible conclusion at finding the front door unlocked.

It had then been easy enough to talk him down and after a few sputtered denials of his actions regarding both Leonardo and Michelangelo; she had managed to push him into a chair. Feeding him seemed to help calm him even more, as well as keeping his mouth too busy to talk and ruin her attempt at enjoying the night.

She had then politely apologized for deceiving him the night before and his look of blank incredulity had surprised her. He hadn't known that she had been with him last night, which made her question why he had been so angry. He had avoided the question and listed off a litany of petty reasons for why he disliked her. Most of them were ridiculous and that was fine. It felt good to clear the air between them, but she drew the line at him calling her 'Kitty'. She controlled her irritation and slowly stood.

She had walked up to him and stood directly in front of him, just as he had earlier in the evening, because -for some reason she wasn't quite able to understand- her close presence seemed to bother him. And maybe it was a little petty, but she had decided that she wanted to make him uncomfortable.

She had then searched his eyes and he avoided her gaze and told him what she believed; that he didn't think much of himself - which seemed to have struck a nerve because he had growled at her -literally- the sound emanating from deep in his chest. She was tempted to ask him how he did that, but instead informed him in no uncertain terms that her sister was the only one who was allowed to call her 'Kitty'.

'Kitty' and 'Lizzy' were nicknames they had given each other when they had learned where their parents had gotten the names 'Elizabeth' and 'Catherine' from. And they were annoying and usually used when each of them were either doing something that irritated the other for some reason, or was used as an exasperated endearment of sorts. And as much as the nicknames were annoying, they names were special to them and they were not for others to use.

Raphael -in a moment of keen understanding- seemed to take her words seriously and nodded in agreement before she offered up her idea of a truce. She had offered out her hand and he had looked at it as if it was some sort of strange alien object. She had questioned him if he would not be able to be nice to her and he had grudgingly taken her hand; but did not release it right away as he asked about Elizabeth. She had told him that her sister was not home and that she didn't know when she would be. She had given him an encouraging smile, letting him know that she thought it was sweet that he had inquired about Elizabeth.

And then it had gotten weird.

Catherine pushed this thought aside to be examined later. She walked into the house, closing the garden door behind her. Striding to the kitchen she placed the dishes in the sink -to be dealt with later- the beer in the fridge, and the bottle in the recycle bin. She hated leaving the dishes in the sink, it actually set her teeth on edge, but at the moment she wanted to crawl into the bath.

Walking to the front door she locked it, took off her coat and boots and placed them in the closet on the way upstairs to the second floor. She was going to run a bath and soak in it until her muscles loosened. She wasn't angry anymore, but was determined to stay in the bath until Raphael's actions actually made some sort of logical sense; which due to the latter condition meant that her stay in the bathtub would no doubt exceed well past the point when her fingers had become pruney, and the bath water had turned icy cold.

Entering the master bedroom she grabbed her plaid pajama pants and her t-shirt. She threw her scoodie onto the ornately carved antique dark wood four pollster bed that she had managed to procure at an estate auction. She had attempted to furnish the house using period pieces and had attempted to keep much of the original features and layout. But there were some things that had been modernized, like the kitchen and the bathrooms.

The 'garden level' or the sort of basement' as she liked to call it, was where Elizabeth had set up her studio. Sabrina had influenced Elizabeth's sudden interest in photography and her sister had put screens, lights, those weird umbrella looking light things, tripods and various other equipment set up along with her art tables, yarn storage and a computer desk which was stuffed into a corner and surrounded by boxes and furniture which had been present in the house when they had moved in.

The first floor had been restored to its former glory and held a foyer with the staircase leading to the second, third and fourth floors. The main floor also had a study, a half bath, a kitchen with eating area, a formal dining room and a separate living room.

The original floor plan for the second floor had consisted of various salons and parlours and even a small dance floor, all of which were not needed. So she had converted the space into large bedroom suites. The Master bedroom she had claimed for herself which had an adjoining Master bath. There were two other bedrooms which shared a full bath. Elizabeth was in one bedroom and Catherine was using the other as a personal studio. Easels, paint, brushes, an architect's table, paper, pencils, pens and markers were all organized and stored in the room.

The third floor had two extra bedrooms and another full bath, a gym and a theatre room. The fourth floor was mostly storage at the moment, but had been set up to contain her uncle's impressive art and antique collection.

Catherine entered the Master bath, done in shades of dark and warm caramels with dark wood accents, light granite countertops, a large glass enclosed shower in the corner, and a white porcelain claw foot tub in the center of the large room.

Walking to the tub she turned on the taps, put in the plug and walked to a cupboard where she pulled out a bottle of raspberry bubble bath which she squirted into the tub before placing it back in the cupboard.

She pulled off her clothes and dropped them to the floor. She strode past the large mirror only catching a brief flash of inked flesh before she slipped into the almost too hot water.

She slid down until her chin rested just above the light, fluffy, white bubbles that had formed. Reaching up she turned the taps off before she lay back and closed her eyes wishing that she had remembered to bring her phone into the bathroom with her so that she could have listened to some music. Instead it was sitting downstairs in her coat pocket. She let out a huff of breath trying to relax her tense muscles but was unable to because her mind continued to drift to thoughts of Raphael; which only seemed to aggravate her current situation.

Letting out a sigh of resignation she decided to actually contemplate Raphael, if only to finally be able to push him from her mind.

Her mind automatically flew to this morning and their encounter in the lair. Okay it was more than just an 'encounter'.

Raphael had swept her up into a passionate embrace that had sparked a fire within her that had needed to be fed. She had felt as if there had been too many clothes and too much distance separating them and had pressed herself against his hardened body, needing to be closer, and to have as much of her skin touching his as she could.

Feeling something hard yet soft pressed up against her stomach had been partly embarrassing, and partly empowering; pleased that the passionate, inhibition shattering kiss had affected him as much as it was affecting her. Her heart leapt and hammered in her chest as he had wrapped his hand around her hair and pinned her to the wall.

It had been exhilarating.

The sense of possessiveness mixed with aggression and want made her breathless. A burning fire of need, lust and desire had pooled low in her belly and between her legs that needed to be filled. She had been just about to let her hand drift down and under his shirt, wanting to feel more of his cool but pleasantly textured flesh with her own. And then he had pulled back, cheeks flushed, golden eyes so dark and filled with animalistic lust that it had driven the air from her lungs.

Her body went cold as horrified embarrassment crashed through her like a destructive wave.

She and Raphael had stared at each other for a moment and she had no idea what to say or even do because she was speechless and immobile from the shock of kissing Raphael.

The problem of course was the fact that the kiss hadn't been just a kiss. Sure no clothes had been removed and no x-rated body parts had been groped, caressed or fondled, but that kiss had been earth shattering.

And it had been with the wrong brother.

Catherine dragged her hands through her hair in frustration and slid beneath the surface of the water; as if doing so would wash away the image and her body's remembrance of Raphael's lips against her own, his hands holding her body tightly to his own and the lust that had surfaced and which was -at the moment- uncomfortably pulsing between her legs.

Coming up for air she pushed her wet hair back and acknowledged that it had been a while since she'd had sex, which may account for her body's almost famished reaction to Raphael. Of course she had been under the impression that Raphael was Leonardo, so she forgave her body for acting as it had.

Raphael had reacted first and had yelled at her -big surprise there- and blamed her for pretending to be her sister. Except that she wasn't and he had been the one who had slammed her against the wall and kissed her, not the other way around. And she hadn't been able to see him in the darkened hallway. All she had seen was Leonardo's shirt and that had been it. Raphael had dragged his hands through her longhair, wrapped it around his hand and held her neck gently as he had kissed all thoughts from her mind.

Of course she admitted that these were not the actions of the oldest brother who was more cautious by nature, but she had thought that maybe he had finally decided to release all of the pent of passion and desire that she knew to be lurking just below his calm, staid and seemingly impenetrable surface.

A girl could hope, and because she had clung to that teasing emotion, it had instead darted away, silently mocking her.

Which meant that Raphael should have been thrilled by her agreement that Leonardo wouldn't have acted in such a reckless way, but instead of being pleased with himself he outright told her that he was not 'happy' about this particular circumstance.

Instead he had just glared at her, his fury palpable; a nearly tangible beast of dark rage crawling through his eyes, ready to break free from the weak cage that held it prisoner.

But she didn't fear him, truthfully she was trying to understand why he was so angry, and tipped her head to the side in thought as she studied the emotions that swirled and danced around in Raphael's nearly shadowed eyes.

And then he had smiled a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, but one he no doubt believed hid all of the anger that still simmered just below the surface as he implied that she was trying to seduce him, and that was fine because he was up for a threesome.

Her mouth had fallen open. Not because she had been surprised by the insinuation of her trying to 'seduce him' because she was 'wearing his colour' (and since when did Raphael have ownership of the colour red anyway?) and not at all shocked that in Raphael's mind, seduction had slid into 'threesome'. And because his words had not shocked her, she had wanted to call his bluff and purr at him that he would have no idea what to do with one woman, let alone two, but if he thought he was up to the task, she and her sister were game. Only she didn't because the last thing she needed was for Raphael to take her up on her challenge. She was not interested in Raphael and she didn't share men with her sister. She didn't do one night stands or flings. She didn't have a problem with people who did and the idea of threesomes didn't bother her in any way either; whatever floated your boat as long as everything was consensual and legal. But for her, when she had sex it was because she was in very deep like or in love, not because she was horny.

And so she had sighed dramatically and asked no one in particular why he had to be such an ass and shoved him away. She had intended to push him hard, but had not expected him to move, or if he did, it would have been grudgingly. Instead as soon as her fingers touched his plastron pure terror and horror had filled his face causing her to freeze.

She didn't move a muscle or even breathe because to do so may set him off. She thought for a moment that he had for some reason fallen back into an episode like he had experienced the other night, but as she studied his eyes, she knew that he was in complete control of his faculties and so she pretended she hadn't noticed his extreme reaction to her hands on his plastron, calmly explaining that her hair colour was naturally black and that the dye job had not been her idea. She had even infused a bit of humour into her voice in an attempt to reassure Raphael of her apparent ignorance of his response to her touch. This seemed to work as he had insulted her by asking if she was dressed as Tweedledum for the photo shoot.

Oddly relieved that Raphael's anger had resurfaced and replaced the fear and terror, she explained that she wanted to talk with Leonardo and give Michelangelo his comic, and suggested that they pretend the whole kissing thing hadn't happened.

This seemed to infuriate him and he told her that Leonardo was not at home; which was a lie. She knew he was lying and there appeared to be some reason he didn't want her entering the lair, so she had given up, and instead gave Raphael the chance to play nice and give Leonardo a message and deliver the comic book to Michelangelo.

Which he hadn't done.

"Jerk," she muttered under her breath as she felt her anger flaring to life again, her already tense muscles becoming tighter.

She had believed that Raphael had either figured out that she had been 'Elizabeth' last night, or Leonardo had told him and she was resigned to giving Raphael an apology. Which brought her mind back to what had happened tonight.

Raphael wasn't complicated. She had told him the truth when she had informed him that she didn't think he was stupid; but this didn't mean that he wasn't easy to read. Raphael had the type of personality where he would cut off his own nose...or beak she supposed...just to spite his own face. Instead of dealing with his emotions he became angry and defensive and would act rashly and recklessly.

Of course this didn't mean that any of his actions actually made sense to her, but she generally had a good idea of how he would react given a certain situation. Except that for some reason, Raphael didn't seem to know what he was thinking or what he was doing anymore and had apparently lost what little sanity he possessed.

After she had offered him a truce and he had held her hand staring into her eyes with an odd sort of intensity that had caused her to hold her breath; his presence having suddenly become overwhelming.

Raphael filled a room with his mere attendance -he couldn't seem to help it- and the large open space of the garden had suddenly felt enclosed and too small an area to contain the sheer force of his volatile personality.

Raphael had suddenly become unpredictable, his golden eyes filled with emotions and thoughts that she couldn't quite comprehend, and she strongly suspected that he couldn't either; which made him so very dangerous.

And then that look had appeared on his face.

She would admit that she wasn't very experienced when it came to intimate relationships. She could count on one hand the number of relationships she had ever been in and even then she still had a couple digits to spare. But she knew enough to know that look; the tension and intensity of a poignant moment when everyone holds their breath fearing to breathe lest the moment be broken and forever ruined or marred.

It was as if his mind had finally settled upon something, or perhaps his body had taken over because his eyes had turned molten with heat and want and desire. He looked as if he wanted to kiss her; to crush her to him and repeat the encounter of earlier that day.

Eyes locked together -his hand holding hers ever so gently before tightening- she felt her lungs take a swift intake of breath as he leaned forward, eyes focused upon her face the want of kissing her changing into the action of kissing her; all within a split second of time.

Raphael had just admitted to her that he hated her, and yet there he was leaning down to claim her lips in another searing kiss, and for the first time she really noticed his scent. She knew Leonardo's scent, which was a mix of musk, steel, and herbs, and although Raphael's body contained that same hint of musk, his was more earthy, dusky and surprisingly pleasant. So pleasant in fact that she felt herself almost responding to the heated look he was giving her. And this thought alone had her hand shooting out to stop him from getting any closer and from her leaning into him.

Her own heart was pounding uncomfortably in her chest and the moment her fingers even brushed his plastron he jumped back as if she was about to hurt him; just like he had earlier that day. But this time he didn't try to cover his reaction and instead rudely insulter her and her hair and practically ran from the house.

Catherine pulled her hand from the soapy bubbles that surrounded her and stared at it, watching the suds lazily slide down her flesh to drip back into the water again. She twisted her hand this way and that, as if it held the answer to her question of what it was about her touching Raphael's chest that so bothered him?

Leonardo would flinch if he didn't see a touch coming, but Raphael's reaction seemed...different. Raphael hadn't jumped back when she had adjusted his posture in the batting cage, though it was apparent that he had been incredibly uncomfortable. But her light touch just a few minutes ago only confirmed what she had already suspected; that there was something that Raphael was hiding beneath the layers of his clothing. And she could acknowledge that this morning when she had shoved him away, she had felt something beneath his thin shirt that he obviously didn't want known.

Michelangelo had shown her a brief glimpse of his plastron and carapace once when he had been pulling off a hoodie and the shirt underneath had ridden up enough to expose a piece of his torso, so she knew what should be under Raphael's shirt, only...

When her left hand had briefly pressed against the scutes of Raphael's plastron, she could feel the ridges and the organic feel of it beneath his shirt, but her right hand had encountered something much different. Although her hands had only momentarily touched his chest, her right hand had encountered something hard, smooth, cold and inorganic.

And for some reason whatever he was hiding, it had the power to turn Raphael -brave, stubborn, reckless, obstinate, and fearsome Raphael- into a terrified creature scrambling to protect himself. Whether he was fearful that she actually would or could somehow hurt him, or if he was fearful of her discovering what actually lay beneath the layers of clothing he normally wore, she wasn't sure. All she knew was that whatever his problem was, it was none of her business and she was not going to poke the bear to find out. She was curious, she wanted to know, but knew that she was the last person on the planet he would ever share anything with. And she could admit that she was okay with that.

As long as Raphael stopped sabotaging her and Leonardo's possible relationship, she would gladly leave him be and not poke and pry into his business.

Dropping her hand back into the tub she continued to stare at the bubbles that floated around her. Both the heat and the bubbles had begun to vanish from the tub and Catherine could feel that her fingers had become pruney, but her muscles had relaxed and her mind was no longer filled with anger or turmoil.

She filed the entire day away in her head under 'messed up' and decided that tomorrow was a new day and it would hopefully be a better, saner one.

Letting out a huff of breath she sat up, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs. She placed her head upon her knees and looked at the steam that slowly floated around the bathroom and fogged up the mirror.

The last two days had been a disaster -admittedly of her own making- and she hoped that she and Leonardo could make plans for next weekend; perhaps even have a real date. And then she could push Raphael into the furthest depths of her mind and ignore the flare of desire and thrill that still thrummed through her body at the thought of their kiss.

Stupidly chasing after the hope that had been dashed today, all she could do was look forward to kissing the right brother and have the spark that had been ignited within her today be fed into an even greater blaze.

Her mind stumbled over this as she pulled her head off her knees.

"Crap," she mumbled under her breath, pulling the plug from the tub as she stood; the water sluicing from her body to fall back into the tub. She dragged her hands through the long, damp, tangled strands of her hair and squeezed the water out.

And now she was faced with a dilemma. Did she tell Leonardo about her accidentally kissing his brother, or not? Did she tell her sister? Would Elizabeth's feeling's be hurt, or would she even care? And what about Leonardo's feelings? Would he be jealous? Or would he not care?

She and Raphael had agreed to pretend the kiss had never happened, except it had. And not telling Leonardo could end up biting her in the ass later. On the other hand it wasn't as if she and Leonardo were dating either.

Sudden insecurity flew through her heart and wrapped itself around that beating muscle, crushing it with nervous apprehension.

After this weekend she believed that her chances with Leonardo had gone from slim to none to just none. To list; she had switched places with her sister because she had to work late; she had apologized and been forgiven, but then the very next day she had locked lips with Raphael.

Granted Raphael had been the one to drag her into a kiss and it had been accidental. It wasn't as if she had wanted to kiss Raphael, and it wasn't as if he had wanted to kiss her either…

Except…possibly an hour ago…

"Double crap," she softly whispered under her breath.

Like a lightning strike it finally hit her as to why Raphael had been so angry.

She already knew it wasn't because she had given him the impression that she was Elizabeth because he hadn't known. And he had avoided her question of why he was angry by deftly distracting her by flat out telling her that he didn't like her.

She dragged her hands down her face.

Raphael was angry because he had kissed her.

For some strange reason this fact had made him furious. His reaction seemed to be out of proportion with what had happened. He had accidentally kissed her thinking she was her sister. Disappointment she could understand, but the rage that he felt didn't make any sense to her. It was as if she had ruined something for him.

She supposed that it had probably been his first kiss... but still, for a first kiss it was a damn good one. Usually those kinds of kisses only occurred in the movies because first kisses were always awkward, usually involving the accidental bumping of teeth, noses and lips. And Raphael didn't seem the sentimental type where forever more his life would be ruined because his first kiss was with the wrong sister.

And besides, she was disappointed too. Her kiss with Leonardo hadn't been with Leonardo but with his younger brother who she disliked and who disliked her back. She could admit that it was an awkward situation, but not a fury inducing one.

She stood for a moment, her body drip drying as her mind tried to understand what was going on in Raphael's head.

She understood why he was angry, but couldn't understand the underlying reason he was furious. She wondered why he had shown up tonight pretending to be looking for Elizabeth, apparently meting out some sort of 'revenge' against her. Elizabeth becoming an afterthought rather than a present one.

Stepping from the tub she grabbed at a towel and wrapped it around herself. Walking towards the vanity she wiped the fog away from the mirror, staring at her reflection as if it could give her some answers and found none.

And there you go, Cat's thoughts on Raph;) hope everyone enjoyed:)