FALL
"Open wide! Here comes the Turtle Blimp! Ummmmm!"
Donnie used the little rubber spoon to scrape the mashed carrots off of Georgia's chin that hadn't made it the first time.
"And what's a three-syllable word for 'blimp?'" He gasped, for dramatic effect. "That's right! 'Zeppelin!' Can you say 'zeppelin?'"
"Om!" Georgie demanded, smacking her tiny hand on the tray of her high chair, her little mouth working open and shut for more.
"Close enough!" Donnie congratulated, feeding her another spoonful, "Of course, technically speaking, a zeppelin has a rigid interior skeleton, usually a lightweight metal like aluminum - say, 'aluminummmm!'"
"Nummmm!"
"Look, Charles, I get that you've got a job to do, but so do I, and I - hey, don't talk to me about pressure! The second somebody puts a little pressure on Sterns, we're cutting and running?!…Because we have an obligation!…Uhhh, to tell the truth?!…Oh, well that's convenient, isn't it? You should go into politics!"
Georgie looked over at her mother in concern, contemplating whether she ought to be crying about something, as April continued to scowl and pace in the kitchen with her cell phone.
"Mommy's mad," Donnie murmured conspiratorially. He made a funny face, and Georgia smiled, deciding all must be well, and paid attention to her carrots again.
It was April's day off from the station, but she'd gotten a tip from Vern that the network wanted Susan Yao covering "The Mutant Menace" from now on. Furious at being replaced, and concerned that the network was kowtowing to pressure from City Hall to paint mutants in a negative light, she had called her boss in a lather, and they were still having it out.
"Om!"
Bang, bang, bang.
"Hey. Uh-uh," Donnie corrected, gently, "Say, 'More, pleeeease!'"
"More beeeease."
"Ima, Nihon de. 'Onegaaaaaaai.'"
"Gaaaaaai!"
"Good girl!"
Georgie took another bite. Donnie melted a bit at the dimples in her cheeks as she happily enjoyed her carrots.
"Now, what's a four-syllable word for blimp? Can you say: 'dirigible?'"
"Didgidgid."
"Good girl! Blimps and zeppelins are BOTH examples of dirigibles! Yaaaay!"
"Yaaaaay!" Georgia chorused.
She was a month and a half shy of her first birthday, and didn't understand half of what she was repeating, of course - but she was a pretty good mimic, and was eager to please. Her English so far consisted of "Mommy," "Daddy," "Bop" (for Casey), "More," "Up," "Bye-bye," "Uh-oh," and "No." In Japanese, they had added "Ohayō," and Mikey's personal favorite, "Ji-ja," her own baby-speak version of ji-chan. They were still working on "Please" and "Onegai." Not too shabby for a one-year-old, Donnie congratulated himself.
She clapped her messy hands together, spattering her bib with carrots.
"Y'know, Charles, just what does Sterns have on you? It's not like he's an advertiser, for f-fffffffun's sake. Yeah, she's right here…Wait - what?! What is that supposed to mean?! Last time I checked, you've got a kid too, or did you forget?! Yeah, well, my 'focus' is right where it's supposed to be! You tell Susan Yao mutants are my beat! And if - oh no you don't, we - Charles! Charles?"
She held the phone away from her ear staring at it in shocked disbelief, and then with a frustrated cry, jabbed her thumb on the end button and tossed it to the counter with a clatter.
"Ugh!"
Georgia screwed up her face and gave an experimental whine.
"Shhh," Donnie soothed, "It's okay, sweetie, Mommy's not mad at you."
April groaned, and crossed over to Georgia, plastering a fake smile on her face and kissing her on the head.
"That's right, Georgia peach," she sing-songed, "Mommy's not mad at you…Mommy's just going to strangle that mean man! Yes she is! Yes she is!"
"Oooo, why is Mommy going to strangle the mean man today?" Donnie sang-talked in response.
Dropping the baby-talk now that Georgie's crying jag had been headed off at the pass, she put her hands on her hips and spoke in her normal (albeit still annoyed) voice.
"Ever since I came back from maternity leave, I told him, I wanna run with this mutant story…Now Chief Sterns starts bellyaching, and he's putting Susan Yao on it!"
"I thought we liked Susan?"
"Well, okay, she's a decent person, but a terrible reporter! She's just gonna say whatever the network tells her to say!"
"Sounds like an ideal T.V. reporter," Donnie observed, wryly, "I've always thought you should do print, hon."
"Print is dead," April said with a dismissive wave of her hand, "Oh! And then? He gives me this nasty crack about 'focusing on my family,' and I'm like, 'Hello, I don't see you pumping at work, Charles, focus on your family!' Ucch! That reminds me."
She stalked over to the kitchen counter, and began gathering the plastic parts of the breast pump to sterilize in the microwave. Donnie smiled, giving Georgie another spoonful of carrots.
"Brains, beauty, and a part of this balanced breakfast - it's official, you're a superhero."
April sighed, and turning, smiled warmly at him.
"You always know what to say."
"Genius," Donnie replied, glibly.
"Well. You're my hero, Mr. Mom."
"I am willing to ignore the inherent sexism of that appellation," Don teased with a grin, "provided I am appropriately compensated."
"Compensated?"
"Yes. I demand recompense for this misandrist micro-aggression."
"Ahhh," April smirked, "I see. And what reparations are you expecting?"
He simply puckered up in response, and grinning, she laid a squelchy kiss on him. The microwave beeped, and she carefully grabbed the steaming plastic bag full of components, brought it all to the kitchen counter to assemble it, as Donnie and Georgie continued working on the little jar of carrots.
He was suddenly distracted, though, as the sound of the television in the living room cut through the sound of April futzing with the plastic pieces and Georgie's contented babbling and banging.
"We interrupt Letters with Learning Worm to bring you this special news bulletin."
Suddenly, Susan Yao's face was on screen. April didn't notice, still casually assembling the breast pump.
"Hey, hon, look at this," Don mumbled, barely able to hear over Georgia, and squinting to read the scrolling ticker.
"MUTANT DISCOVERED ON MTA BUS, REFUSED TO DISEMBARK."
"I can never get this thing to go in the…thing," April muttered, still fumbling with the pump, "You think I'd be used to - "
"Sweetie, look."
April glanced up at the television where Don was pointing, and her jaw dropped. Making eye contact briefly, they both stood in a hurry, Don scooping Georgie out of her high chair ("Up!" she announced) and April grabbing the remote, hurriedly turning the volume up. They stood together in the living room and watched.
"…went apparently unnoticed upon boarding the bus. Once other passengers realized and alerted the driver, however, the bus immediately pulled over and he was asked to disembark. The mutant feline, however, refused, and continued to hold the MTA bus at a standstill for nearly an hour. The police were called and eventually arrested the mutant, but several of the passengers took cell phone video of the entire procedure, which has quickly gone viral. While radical mutant sympathizers on the far left are trying to draw comparisons to Rosa Parks, law enforcement released an official statement saying that willfully spreading panic and disrupting public transit sets a dangerous precedent, with some even calling it an act of domestic terrorism."
As she was speaking, video emerged of cops leading the mutant away - a black cat wearing a black leather jacket over a hoodie. His hood had fallen back to reveal his glossy fur and feline ears. He glared at the camera, with his head held proudly high, until cops place a hand on his head and guided him into the back of a squad car.
"Why would he do that?" April said, shaking her head in horror, "Boarding a public bus in the middle of the day? Is he crazy?"
Donnie gave April a strange, appraising look, as if he expected to see someone else standing next to him.
"Or brave?…"
"Brave?" April quoted in disbelief, "Donnie, there's brave and then there's good old-fashioned stupid."
Don scowled. He knew that technically, she was right - that this was bone-headed stunt, and that whoever that mutant cat was, he was lucky he hadn't gotten himself killed for his trouble. But at the same time, something long-dormant within him raised its hackles at April's tone.
"What? Riding the bus is stupid?"
"Don't be obtuse," April replied, folding her arms, "You know that's not the issue. There are things you just don't do."
"Well, why not?" he replied, a bit more heatedly than he'd intended, "We have to start somewhere, don't we?"
"We?!" April replied, her eyebrows leaping for the ceiling, "Who's this 'we,' now? If you think you're just going to march out there in broad daylight and - "
He rolled his eyes in exasperation, adjusting Georgie in his grip as he interrupted her. "You know I'm not. All I'm saying is, is it 'stupid' to want to be seen as a person?"
April's mouth set in a grim line.
"No, of course not," she begrudgingly admitted, "But people aren't ready, Don. It's dangerous!"
"It's always dangerous!" he retorted, "Nobody is ever ready for change, but that doesn't mean it's not worth fighting for! There's always pushback, but -"
"Pushback?!" April cried, "They strung Bebop from a streetlight, like a lynch-mob, Donatello! They bashed Slash's head in with a crowbar and shot him dead in the street!"
"Exactly!" Donnie snapped, "They're already killing us on sight, so what exactly do we have to lose, here? How much further do we have to fall before we stand - "
"Stop saying 'we!'" April shouted, with an edge of panic in her voice.
Georgia started to cry, and they both looked at her guiltily.
"Give her to me," April demanded, already taking her, "Come here, sweetie."
She took her out of Donnie's arms, cradling her tight and shushing her soothingly as she cried. Donnie watched, feeling guilty.
"I…I just - "
"I don't want to talk about it anymore," April said, her voice shaky, still bouncing Georgia gently on her hip.
"Okay," Donnie said, feeling sad and hollow.
"Don't cry, sweetie," April soothed, stroking Georgie's dark, silky hair.
"Look, I'm sorry," Donnie said, insides squirming with guilt now, "I don't wanna fight. I just…"
He shook his head, wishing for once that he could be like Casey, and just stomp around, and then drink a beer, and then feel bad about it and be all cute and apologetic and get magically forgiven somehow - but that's how they worked…not them. He sighed, and tried to formulate his words the way April and her Dad did, when they were arguing.
"When you said that he was stupid, for doing that," Don said, deliberately, "It made me feel…hurt. I felt like you were saying I was stupid too, that a mutant wanting to be treated like a person is automatically stupid."
"I'm sorry I said that," April replied sincerely, "And I'm sorry I made you feel that way. That's not what I meant at all…"
Donnie softened, was about to pull them both into his arms -
"I only meant taking that kind of a risk is stupid."
Donnie didn't reply to this. Again, he couldn't fault her logic…but her words again triggered a vague discontent that permeated his thoughts silently, like fog.
"You want me to finish putting that together?" Don asked, pointing at the abandoned pump.
"No, I think I'll just feed her myself for a little while," April said, "That usually gets her down for a nap."
There was something in her disquieted demeanor that suggested to Donnie that she probably wanted to comfort herself as much as Georgia.
"Okay," Don agreed, mildly.
"Come on, Georgia peach," April said, heading for the nursery, as Georgie continued to whimper, "Let's clean you up a bit."
Donnie sat on the sofa, and muted the television, but he lingered on the channel for quite some time, watching the footage of the mutant cat being arrested over and over.
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Cutting through the screaming and the whine of the drill, Bishop heard the discordant jangle of his cell phone.
"Excuse me," he said, putting down the drill, and taking his phone out. A red smear was left on the screen as he swiped it to answer the call.
"What?"
"Bishop," Sterns' voice crackled in his ear, "We've got another - "
"I know," Bishop replied through gritted teeth, unable to hide his irritation, "It was all over the news."
"Yeah, well," Sterns replied, "You want it or - "
"It's too late for that, obviously," Bishop snapped, "The whole world is watching. If you can book him for something do it, if not, cut him loose and let your pet thugs take care of it."
"They are not my pet -"
"But you're content to turn a blind eye while they do your dirty work," Bishop growled, "Meanwhile, you bring me cats and rats and elephants but no lizard. What is the progress on Mona Lisandrello?"
"We staked out the bar, but there's been no unusual activity," Sterns said tersely, poorly concealing his growing temper, "We interviewed her parents, but they haven't spoken in over a decade. The mother said something about a 'big misunderstanding,' with the stepfather…The sister split when she was sixteen, and Mona soon after. My guess, the old man was diddling one or the other of 'em, or both, I dunno."
"I need results, not backstory," Bishop snarled, "Where is she, Sterns?!"
"I'm tellin' you, we don' know!" Sterns snapped, his accent getting thicker the angrier he got, "Look, I played ball witchu Feds, gave you men, resources, but I got a city's wortha crime to deal wit' here! The world doesn't revolve around you an' your little wild goose chase! 'Sides, that shit's all over the internet now anyway, cat's out the bag, damage done. The hell do you need her for?"
"She's a mutant, and a traitor and a terrorist, with a head full of dangerous military secrets," Bishop retorted, "What do you think I need her for?!"
"I think it's personal. She slipped through your fingers, and that burns you, so now you're tryin' to save face. Or your job."
"Now you listen to me you little -"
"No, I think I'm done listenin' to you," Sterns snapped, "You tol' me I run into any mutants, send 'em your way, so that's what I done. Nobody can accuse me of a 'lack of cooperation,' and that's about as far as I give a shit. This is your headache, Bishop, not mine! Good luck wit' your little witch hunt."
He hung up. Bishop exhaled slowly through his teeth, and put the phone away.
"Sorry about that," he ground out, "Now. Last chance. Where is she?"
"Who?!" the pigeon mutant cried desperately. He was strapped to a steel table, blood oozing from several holes Bishop had drilled in his arms…wings…things. His bluish veins bulged in his distended neck, freakish red-orange eyeballs darting around the room in panic. "I don't know who you're - "
Behind his sunglasses, Bishop's eyes narrowed in revulsion. Disgusting creature.
Sterns didn't understand. None of them understood. He'd seen the writing on the wall. He'd seen the light - literally - blinding white and all-consuming, plucking him up from the earth, helpless and praying, and then cold, naked, strapped to the hard table, and what they'd done to him, what those freaks had taken from him -
Aliens. The Kraang and their mutagen and their pet freaks and their corrupting, corrosive influence.
Yet the Kraang giveth, and the Kraang taketh away - in exchange for his agony and horror, or perhaps, as an accidental byproduct, he had been granted unnaturally long life. And now after all his years, too many years, so many he now drifted through this mortal vale like a ghost, they were out of time, damnit. Nothing had proven that more than the Kraang invasion. Didn't they see?! There was no time to question, no time for pleasantries.
You don't make nice with the Cro-Magnons. You fashion a club and swing for the bleachers, strike a blow for Neanderthal-kind - because you can either be strapped to the table or the one holding the power tools and the time where you still get to choose is slipping through the glass like so much sand…
Bishop squinted against the migraine. He wasn't making sense. He was letting the pain win.
He'd had them ever since his abduction, the pain now as familiar to him as his middle name.
John Head-Splitting-Mind-Rape Bishop.
Inhaling deeply through his nostrils, ignoring the scent of blood, he pushed the pain aside and slipped into that cold place past feeling where things were numb and still made sense.
" - talking about!"
"The lizard. The one with hair. I know you know her. Don't make me jog your memory…"
"I…I, uh - no, WAIT!" the pigeon cried, as Bishop stepped over to the metal tray, reaching for the bloody power drill, "Uh, I saw…a lizard. Yeah! Yeah, a lizard, with hair!"
Bishop's hand lingered over the handle of the power drill.
"Where? When?"
"He - well, uh…I thought it was a he…maybe it was a she? I mean it coulda been, I dunno, man, I - "
"Where and when?!" Bishop shouted.
"OKAY! Okay! Don't hurt me no more!" the pigeon begged piteously, "It was at Fusion…we had meetings there, sometimes. Y'know about the protests and stuff. He…she…the lizard - it was friends with Jason - the cat. Big black cat, leather jacket."
Bishop's brow lifted in surprise. Finally, a lead!
"Please don't hurt me no more," the pigeon begged again, "I toldja everything I know!"
Stalking away from the table, Bishop punched a button on an intercom system.
"Get in here."
Two burly men in black with rifles strapped to their backs stepped through the door and stood at attention.
"Get him cleaned up," Bishop said, gesturing at the pigeon creature, its feathers a pitiful bloody mess.
"Oh, thank you!" The pigeon groaned in relief as they began unlocking his bindings.
"Then you can take him to the lab. Tell them to take whatever they need, and dispose of the rest."
"What?! No! I helped you! I told you everything I know!" the pigeon wailed, "Please! Help!"
"Thank you for your cooperation," Bishop drawled, as the creature was dragged out of the room, dripping a bloody trail in its wake.
Bishop crossed to the sink, removing his rubber apron. He shucked off his gloves backwards, and started washing the rest of the blood off his wrists and forearms. It looked like he was going to have to pay a visit to that uppity cat after all. He'd have to wait until he was released, to avoid suspicion and media attention…then make sure he got to him before H.A.T.E. or the Dragons got a hold of him.
They could have whatever was left.
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"Watashi ni uso o tsukanai, kame! Anata ga dorobōdearu! Anatadaro ubau rōjin?! Hajiwoshire!!"
Leo took a deep breath in through his nose, and patiently, gently reached to put his hand on the small of Master Splinter's back, still trying to guide him to the kitchen. Splinter smacked his hand away with surprising strength, given his weakened state.
"Watashi ni furenaide kudasai, kaibutsu! Kutabare!"
Leo knew his father wasn't in his right mind. He knew his father would never curse at him, call him a thief and a liar and a monster and worse…He didn't even know what he was supposed to have stolen - when he tried to ask, Splinter wouldn't (or couldn't) say; Leo guessed that he either couldn't remember, or couldn't find the words to describe it, which only made him even more frustrated and paranoid. On top of his mental decline, he had to be half-crazed with malnourishment at this point - he'd lost almost all his appetite and Leo's friendly suggestions of food were being met with more and more hostility.
Leo understood all this with perfect clarity - knew that there was no reason to take attacks like this personally. It was the illness talking, not him.
But the words still cut clean to the center of him, stinging like a lash, causing his eyes to prickle with shame.
Denying it and arguing would only antagonize him more. Trying to explain would only confuse and upset him. He did the only thing he could think of. He put one fist in the palm of his hand, and bowed deeply, just as he would have any other time he disappointed his sensei.
"I am deeply sorry I offended you, Father," he said, in Japanese.
This seemed to either appease or confuse him…at least didn't respond with another furious tirade. He just stared suspiciously.
Well, it's an improvement?…
"Mikey made dinner," Leo continued hopefully, "It's negimaki. Won't you come and try some?"
"No. Now leave me alone!"
"But - "
"I said 'NO,' kappa! You think I'm stupid? You think I don't see what you're doing? Begone, demon!"
Splinter scowled and made agesture to ward off evil towards him. Leo turned his eyes to the ceiling and puffed out his cheeks. This was clearly getting them nowhere.
"Okay. You're right," he said, wearily, "We'll try again later."
"Hmph," Splinter replied, and leaning heavily on his staff, stumped his way back to his bedroom. Leo was sorely tempted to follow him, worried he would trip in his weakened condition, or need help getting back into bed, but knew he'd only get scolded for his efforts, so he compromised by watching his every tottering step until he snapped the shoji screen closed behind him, and then listened until he heard the soft crush of blankets as Splinter clambered back into bed.
Great. He'd slept practically all day, now he was going to be wandering around all night. "Sundowning," Donnie had called it. Said it was really common with dementia patients. Like that was supposed to make it less of a nightmare.
He could really use a night off after a day like today…but where was Raph? MIA again.
Maybe it was better this way. The thought of Splinter talking to him like that -
"Bro?"
Leo nearly jumped out of his skin, hands automatically reaching for katana he had left in the dojo - he hadn't heard Mikey creep up on him. Some ninja he was.
"Don't startle me like that!" Leo scolded.
"Uh, you wanna run that by me again?" Mikey joked, lamely.
Leo sighed, and switched back to English. "Sorry. I don't even realize I'm doing it anymore. You know, you should really practice your Japanese. It's the only way to communicate with him, now."
"I know," Mikey said, guiltily, "It's just, you two go so fast. But I…well, I…got the picture."
Leo slumped inwardly. He'd kind of been hoping that had all gone over Mikey's head. It was bad enough that it was driving Raph out of his mind. Where was Raph, anyway? He didn't hear the clank of weights or tools, so he wasn't in the garage. Probably holed up somewhere drinking himself blind. Whatever. So long as he wasn't topside alone.
"So, uh - he's still not hungry, huh?"
"No."
Mikey gave Leo a sympathetic look, and then on a sudden impulse, reached out and pulled his brother into a hug. Surprised, Leo paused for a second, and then returned the gesture, stroking Mikey's head a little.
"It'll be okay, Mikey," he lied, dully.
"Hey!" Mikey scolded, "I'm hugging you."
Leo scoffed lightly. "I think hugging is a kind of mutual - "
"Stop petting me!" Mikey scowled. He reached up and started patting Leo's head in retaliation, slightly awkward given their height difference. "There. I am the hugger and you are the huggee, okay?"
Leo chuckled softly. "Okay. Whatever you say."
Slowly, Mikey released him, holding him at arms length with one hand on either arm.
"Okay," he said, experimentally, "Don't get mad."
"Oh geez," Leo groaned, rolling his eyes, "What'd you do now?"
"It's not - I've just been talking to Donnie and Raph. And they thought it was a good idea, too."
"Uh-huh," Leo said, suspiciously, "So why aren't they telling me this?"
"They, uh…" Mikey hemmed, "They thought, coming from me…Don said you'd be more reflective."
"'Receptive,'" Leo corrected wearily, "Well, I can already tell I am gonna love whatever this is." He sighed. "Okay. Hit me."
Mikey reached into his belt where he normally kept his T-phone and withdrew a small ziplock baggie. It was full of what looked like dried up herbs, yellow-green clumps of -
"Wait…Is that?- Did you? - MIKEY!"
"Leoooo, hear me out."
"Give me that!" Leo snarled, snatching the baggie out of Mikey's hand, "What is the matter with you?! Where did you get this?! Mikey, we beat up drug dealers, we don't - it's Mondo, isn't it?! He got you into this! And Raph and Donnie know?! How long has this - "
"Leo. Stop. It's not for me."
Leo frowned. "Well I certainly - "
His eyes widened and he glanced guiltily over his shoulder at sensei's bedroom.
"You want?! - "
He lowered his voice.
"You want me to drug him?! That's our father!"
Mikey looked at Leo pityingly. "No it's not."
It was done before Leo even knew he was doing it - the crack of it echoed off the hard surfaces in the lair, and it was only when the stinging in his hand registered and his broken heart was hammering in his throat that Leo even realized he had just slapped Mikey across the face. Horror doused him like a bucket of ice water as Mikey looked up at him in round-eyed surprise, and rubbed his cheek.
"Ow," he said, simply, almost as if he were impressed.
"I - Mikey, I - " Leo stammered, appalled at his lack of self-control, looking down at his hand as though it had betrayed him, as though it belonged to someone else. Guiltily, he realized he was lucky as hell that Donnie or Raph weren't here, or they'd probably break it for him, and with another surge of guilt, he almost wished they were here so they would.
"No, I get it…That came out wrong."
Mikey crouched down and picked the baggie up off the floor where Leo had dropped it.
"I just meant…he's not himself anymore," Mikey clarified, as though nothing had just happened, as though they were just continuing a normal conversation, as though Leo hadn't just put on such a shameful display, hadn't -
"It might mellow him out, help him sleep when he's supposed to. It might even make him wanna eat."
That got Leo's attention. His eyes wandered involuntarily over the kitchen, where the delicious fruits of Mikey's pointless labor sat abandoned, still steaming gently.
"They give it to cancer patients all the time. He doesn't even have to smoke it. You can put it in food, Don looked it up and says there's even a way to brew it into tea."
A hundred questions were leaping to Leo's lips, along with a thousand choked apologies for what he'd just done. Where the hell did he even get it!? How much was it costing him? Where was he getting that kind of money? Was it really that bad already? Was it so obvious to everyone else? He had worked so hard to shield them from the worst of it, flinging himself onto Splinter like a grenade, absorbing all of the shrapnel…
"And a fine job you're doing," Leo viciously berated himself, "A-plus big brother-ing, Fearless. Hit him again, why don't you, you pathetic - "
"He doesn't have a lot of good days left," Mikey said, quietly, "Well…he just…doesn't have a lot of days, does he?"
Leo's heart twisted. Mikey wasn't supposed to know that.
"Maybe…" Mikey shrugged, "Maybe it'll just make him feel better for a few hours."
Leo wavered.
"I don't know…"
"I'll do it," Mikey said hurriedly, sensing his resolve weakening and pouncing, "You don't have to. I'll give it to him. I could get him to take it, I'm sure I can. Let me help."
"No," Leo said, firmly, "Absolutely not."
He took the bag from Mikey again, more gently this time. Mikey scowled at the floor in frustration.
"I'll do it," Leo clarified, "I don't want you…you shouldn't be around him when he's like this."
Mikey bit his lip, looked like he might argue the point, but just nodded, unwilling to upset the balance when Leo had finally agreed.
"You said…you can make it tea?"
"Yeah," Mikey said, gently, "But I gotta show you how. You can't just boil it."
Again, questions flooded to Leo's lips. How the hell do you know this? When did you get so gentle? Why do I feel like the little brother right now? When did you grow up? What else don't I know about you?
One question finally burbled to the surface.
"Why don't you hate me right now?" Leo asked, his jaw working, chewing back his emotions. "I do," he added, realizing it even as he said it.
Mikey just smiled and shook his head. "Dude - you shoulda seen your face. I knew the second you did it you didn't mean it. It actually…okay, this is gonna sound crazy but it actually kinda made me like you better."
"Slapping you in the face made you like me better," Leo deadpanned in disbelief, "Yep, that sounds crazy."
Mikey shrugged sheepishly, "It means…you're still Clark. You can't help it…you just don't know your own strength."
"I…have literally no idea what you're trying to say."
Mikey just sighed, and pulled him into another hug.
"I get that a lot."
Leo couldn't believe it, didn't know how he deserved brothers like this, couldn't imagine how they just kept forgiving him over and over for all the varied ways he had failed them over the years, kept placing their faith in him…
All he knew, as he gripped Mikey tightly, was that he could not - would not lose control - never again. He had to keep his composure - had to be the kind of brother, the kind of son, the kind of leader that they deserved.
"Right," he said, carefully making his voice sound even and confident, firmly releasing Mikey and stepping out of his embrace. He nodded at the ziplock and its illicit contents. "Show me what I need to do."
There was a flicker of something almost like regret across Mikey's face, but he just nodded.
"Come on."
They headed to the kitchen together.
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Mona walked through the sewers, being careful to mind her step. It was amazing how quickly such a foreign landscape had become familiar to her. Granted, she only knew this one pathway to and from Candy's - she wouldn't trust herself to go anywhere else, surely not alone, but this particular route she already knew like the back of her hand.
Still, Raphael usually volunteered to walk her to and from Candy's, and she'd been disappointed when there'd been no sign of him at the lair - Leonardo hadn't seemed to know where he was either, and seemed kind of put out by it. She was a little worried that she'd brought his absence to his attention - the last thing she wanted to do was cause more tension between those two.
She could certainly understand Raph wanting a breather from the lair, though. The atmosphere had been especially tense lately…she didn't know what Master Splinter was like before, at least not from personal experience…but she could see how hard it was for them, dealing with him now.
She and Mikey had talked about it a little, during one particularly truth-ish afternoon. Asides from "really cool, man" he'd described Splinter as kind, and gentle, and surprisingly funny. That he had been a strict taskmaster, but his patience had always seemed infinite enough to encompass all their faults. He was more than just their sensei - he had raised them, loved them, was truly their father. As he described who he used to be, she glimpsed for a moment the depth of their loss.
Eradicating degenerative diseases exactly like Alzheimer's had been the chief motivation behind her ill-fated research. If only the motivation of her government sponsors had been as pure.
She scowled. What a waste, and how despicable - to stand in the light of discovery, to have the opportunity to make the world a better place, to erase family tragedies like this forever - and to throw it all away in a quest for super soldiers and chemical warfare.
Still - she couldn't give up hope, couldn't give up her belief that people were, by and large, good, and wanted to help one another. If anything, her new-found friends were living proof of that - friends she was rapidly coming to think of as family.
Speaking of family.
She abandoned her musings as she realized she was nearing the tunnel that led to Candy's basement, a smile springing unbidden to her lips. It had been so hard, being separated from her sister, and now that the tunnel was finally completed, such a relief to be able to see her, even if it was only in her basement when the bar was closed. With a pang, Mona wondered if she'd ever see sunlight again. She missed it - dappled through green leaves; blistering hot, seeping into her skin at the beach; weak and gray through the clouds on a rainy day; warm and golden at sunset…
She pushed the longing aside. She couldn't complain - she had escaped with her life, she had her sister, she had new friends, and -
She froze as there was a noise from up ahead in the tunnels. A scraping noise, followed by a low curse word.
She did as Raphael had taught her, found the closest shadow and crouched down, flattening her back to the rough concrete wall, controlling her breath so it was smooth, steady, and silent.
She heaved a sigh of relief as she saw it was, in fact, Raphael climbing down out of the tunnel, his foot seeking the rungs of the ladder they had installed. She was powerless to prevent the broad smile that broke out on her face, or the happy leap her heart did in her chest. She was about to call out to him, when she saw his foot slip on the ladder rung. There was another clinking, sloshing noise, and he grunted…was he injured?
He jumped down the rest of the way, staggered, and nearly pitched into the middle of the sewer - she took a sudden step forward, reaching for him automatically, but he caught himself, free hand grabbing onto the ladder so he could regain his balance, clutched in his other, a -
Mona's eyes narrowed.
A half-empty bottle of Wild Turkey.
Raph began staggering home, still hadn't noticed her, when suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks, his emerald eyes wide and bloodshot at the sight of her.
"Mm-Mona?" he stammered.
"Hello, Raph," Mona said, a bit coolly, "I came to visit Candy. I guess you just saw her?"
Raph didn't reply. He glanced down involuntarily at the bottle, and it twitched in his hand, ever-so-slightly, as though he were contemplating hiding it behind his shell, but immediately realized how pointless that would be.
Mona felt her heart sinking in her chest. Not him. Why him?
"Heh," Raph slurred, with a sheepish wince, "Y'got me. Iss not a big…Candy n' me, I gotta…tab goin'."
Mona closed her eyes, huffed through her nose with a wry shake of her head. "Right."
So, it was exactly what it looked like - he had snuck into the basement without Candy even knowing, and pilfered a bottle from her inventory. He was a drunk. How had she missed this?! She should know better. And of course, he had just added "thief" and "liar" to his credentials.
Damnit, Raphael. It was supposed to be…different.
"Well," Mona said, trying to hide her disappointment and mostly failing, "I'm going to visit Candy. So…you okay? Getting back to the lair?"
Raph swayed unsteadily on his feet, and looked over her shoulder down the tunnel at the mention of the lair. He seemed to shrink in stature a little bit and his pupils dilated with a hunted, faraway look, as if he were seeing demons on the distant horizon. She actually glanced over her shoulder nervously, afraid there might actually be something standing there watching them…but that would have been too easy.
These demons were the invisible kind.
"I think…I can't."
He hung his head and shook it, the gesture causing him to shift his feet to maintain his balance.
"Can'. Not yet."
Mona sighed. She hated to see him self-destruct like this, but didn't feel she really had a right to tell him so. Unfortunately, it seemed he didn't have the kind of relationship with his brothers where he'd feel comfortable asking them for help with this, even though she was sure they were worried about him, sure they would give it. They were all so proud in their own way, determined to shoulder their burdens alone, despite being so close…Suddenly, out of the silence that stretched between them:
"You uh…you look real pretty."
Mona blinked in surprise, losing her train of thought. She had put absolutely zero effort into her appearance - she was only going to visit Candy, after all. Between her and April, they had finally gotten her some real clothing to wear, but it was strictly form over function - a denim skirt over some black leggings (humiliatingly modified by Candy to accommodate her tail) some black, well-worn men's work boots, and a comfortable "I heart NY" sweatshirt, both from the Salvation Army. The sweatshirt looked like it had accidentally been dyed pink in the wash, and they'd had to cut the neck hole a bit wider to accommodate her broad new shoulders, but it was soft against her skin…it felt like her sister was giving her a hug.
"Thanks?" she said, uncertainly. Raph just gave her that sad, lopsided smile as he stared into her eyes.
He wasn't talking about her clothes.
She couldn't lie, she was pleased at the compliment - but a nagging part of her wondered if he would have said it sober, and was angry that she'd never know.
Raph stepped closer, staring at her hair. Mona hugged her arms slightly tighter to her chest. He reached out a hand and pinched a strand of her hair lightly, letting it slide between his fingers.
"Huh," he said, as though noticing something new, "S'nice."
"Thank you," Mona said, stiffly, her body sending her a confusing mix of signals - her face warming, heart thumping…yet she could smell the alcohol in his sweat, and old fear traced a clammy finger down her back, thighs tightening and pressing together automatically. Her tail twitched - that was new. She had no idea what to make of that. She had no idea what to make of any of this anymore.
"Never…I never touched…hair b'fore. S'diff'rent. From fur, I mean. Dad, he - "
He cut himself off, his jaw working. His eyes were glazed.
"I like it."
She was surprised and somewhat saddened by the idea that he'd never touched hair before, but then of course, when would he have? April was their friend, she supposed, but really, how often do you ask to touch someone else's hair, especially your brother's wife?
Ever so lightly, more gently than she would have thought him capable of, he slid his fingertips up through her hair - his thumb grazed her ear as it passed. The soft, ticklish sensation sent goosebumps up and down her arms, and her lips parted automatically. He hummed a soft noise of approval deep in his throat.
Ugh, if this had happened yesterday, she would have been over the moon with happiness. Now? Knowing this? Hearing the liquid slosh around in that half-empty bottle?
His eyes wandered away from her hair and locked with hers. He had the most beautiful green eyes, eyes that glittered in the dark and still made her heart race - but she didn't know anymore if she should let it. It would have been perfect, and part of her longed to lunge forward and kiss him anyway - it would have been so easy to disappear there, was probably just what they both needed, was surely what they both wanted - but -
"You should stay away from me," he finally murmured softly. She was surprised by how sober he sounded…no slurring, or anything.
"Oh really?" she replied breathlessly, "Why's that?"
He shook his head but didn't look away, glittering emeralds boring holes into the center of her.
"I fuck things up," he promised darkly.
"What kind of things?"
"Things I care about. I think…sometimes I think the more I care, the more I…ruin it."
"Well, that seems like a real bad habit," Mona said, firmly, repeating the words she'd said to Candy so many times, every time she reached for her lighter, "Maybe you should quit."
Raph just snorted. "Yeah. No kiddin'."
He glanced down, looking at the bottle in his hand like he hated it. His grip tightened on the handle like he wanted to throw it against the wall and watch it shatter. She wished he would.
Maybe he just didn't know how.
Gentle hands reached of their own accord, landing on his shoulders. Startled, he looked up at her and the fear was naked and bright there, like a beacon. She squeezed his shoulders reassuringly, then directed her gaze to the bottle in his grip. They looked at it together for a moment.
They watched mutely as her hand slid down his formidable shoulder, gliding over his massive bicep, past the crook of his elbow. By the time she was tracing the tendons standing out on his forearm, she knew he had figured out what she was going to do, showed it in the quickening of his breath, the tightness in his jaw. Her fingers ghosted over his wrist, then gently, so gently taking hold of the bottle for him, her other hand coming over to tenderly prize his fingers from their hold. He looked away as he finally released his vice grip, squeezing his eyes shut against the shame.
She tossed the bottle into the middle of the sewer and it landed with a soft splash, and immediately slipped her hand into his now-empty one.
"You sh-shouldn'," he stammered, "I'm no good, Mona…anybody, fucking anybody but me, okay? 'Cause I'm gonna fuck it up. So much. All the time. An' if ya don't hate me now, you will, and…God, I really think I'm losin' it here."
And part of her knew he was right, knew she couldn't fix him, knew this was a slow-motion car wreck waiting to happen, but even though she was a genius, she guessed she'd never been too bright after all, because she just pulled him into her arms, one hand on his shell, the other on the back of his neck. His whole body stiffened, but she just waited, holding him gently, until finally he gave up and buried his face in the crook of her neck, wrapping his arms around her fiercely, squeezing the breath from her, and suddenly he was kissing her jaw, and then her cheek and she knew it was going to happen, and she still felt the fear but it was too late because she was already in love with him when his mouth found hers and something in her knew it had to be this way. It didn't last long, but his mouth was scorching with pain and need, and she felt her own hunger singing in her blood, all the painful, broken places waking up at once, but through the howling clamor of it all, her heart kept crashing 'him, him, him!'
As soon as the kiss ended, he tucked her under his chin immediately, so she couldn't see his face, but she could feel the spasmodic twitching of his chest and smelled salt mingling with the alcohol in the air.
Mona felt her own eyes prickling as she gripped him stubbornly tight.
"I'm here. I'm here, Raphael."
He gulped raggedly and her suspicions were confirmed.
"Sorry. I dunno why," he stammered helplessly, "I dunno why I'm - cry - "
His voice cracked, and he buried his face in her neck, his massive arms bunched like iron around her back, hand fisting in her hair, hair he'd never felt before tonight, and she pressed her cheek into him and swayed in his grip in the dark and the cold.
TMNTtmntTMNTtmntTMNTtmntTMNTtmntTMNTtmntTMNTtmntTMNTtmntTMNT
AN/: I wanted to give you a nice big juicy update, because I've got a bit of bad news…I'm moving, and things are going to get really crazy here, so next chappie is going to be a bit of a wait :/ Sorry about that! I can promise you I will NOT abandon fic, but it might be a while. Sorry! And fun, FYI bonus: I feel like Raph and Mona's song is "Demons" by Imagine Dragons. I listened to that on infinitelooper while I was writing their scene here.