Hey all! I apologize for taking so long to get this chapter up, the flu went through my house and Easter was super busy, but I finally got it written and ready to go!

A giant thank you to Marie Allen who speed beta read this chapter for me, thank you so much for being so amazing!

Also a huge thank you to all of my lovely and amazing reviewers and readers, without you this fic wouldn't have gotten this far.

A/N so just to warn everyone, this chapter is the calm reflective one before the storm so to speak. I hope you all enjoy it and rest assured in the next chapter things are going to go down. But I had a few things to tie up before doing this...

Thank you all so much again and please enjoy:D

Chapter 35

Raphael tried to get comfortable and found that this was an impossible task. Lying on a cot in Donatello's lab, a location he had been relegated to for the past two days, he found that no matter which way he turned, he couldn't seem to find a position where his muscles wouldn't cramp, his stitches wouldn't pull and his bruises wouldn't ache.

When he had first woken up, terror had been a coiled creature that had encircled his heart and crushed it in a vice-like, unshakable hold. The image of Catherine, her face tearstained, battered, cut and bloody, had been etched into his mind with a razor sharp knife.

Eyes flying open, confused and groggy, he had attempted to sit up, but the shooting pain and his brothers' concerned voices stopped him from completing this motion. Falling back upon the cot with a groan of pain, Donatello's words drifted through his mind as memory came rushing back replacing the hazy remnants of Catherine's haunting image; gathered no doubt from the swirling depths of a dark and horrible nightmare.

Donatello had informed him that he had been shot, and Raphael remembered that, but not much else after. Blinding pain had ripped through every single nerve in his body and dragged him with bloody, vicious claws into the darkened oblivion of unconsciousness.

Looking down upon himself, he had suddenly not been able to process everything that Donatello had said. The startling white bandages that were wrapped tightly around his torso, obscuring his plastron, sent a new and very different kind of terror shooting through him.

Hand flying to his chest he had looked at Donatello with beseeching horror, wondering if there was any of his plastron left.

Donatello had quickly explained that the bullet had hit his metal plate, no doubt saving his life, and that his genius brother had replaced the old plate with a new one, that was all. No pieces of plastron had needed to be removed and his remaining plastron though brittle, looked as if it had healed as well as it could have considering the damage it had received.

Raphael had felt relief flow through him at this and he had asked where Casey was, so he could thank his friend for saving his ass.

At this, both Donatello and Leonardo had shared a look before Donatello informed him that Casey had gone home after Raphael's surgery had been completed and was told that Raphael was going to be alright.

Knowing that this behaviour in his friend was a little strange, he did not comment on it, because Casey no doubt had his reasons, so he gave a nod of understanding instead.

And then, if this strange abandonment by his friend was not odd enough, Leonardo had offered up an apology for his words the and his attitude the night before and for acting more like a father than a brother.

Raphael had gaped at his brother, not really knowing what to say, because he had truthfully been dumbstruck.

Mention of Catherine's name however, had him staring back down at his hands, clutching the rumpled blanket that covered him, and unable to meet his older brother's worried and contrite gaze. He had murmured something like acceptance or acknowledgement while trying to push away at the sticky, clawing guilt that filled him.

He felt ashamed of what he had done. Even though Leonardo had decided that Catherine could no longer be in his life, Raphael hadn't known that when he had kissed her. At that moment, he hadn't cared if she was Leonardo's girlfriend; all he had wanted was to feel every single inch of her pressed up against him and to taste the honey sweetness of her addictive lips; because he loved her more than anything...

On the tip of his tongue to confess his sins to his older brother, his words turned to dust upon his lips at Leonardo's permission to still be friends with Catherine and Elizabeth, but with the caveat of thinking about the consequences of such an action, as well as the request to wait until after everything with Karai had been settled in the next few days.

He had stared at his older brother, wondering if it was the drugs and the pain making him misunderstand things, because what Leonardo had just said made no sense to him at all.

Leonardo informed them that he had no intention of continuing his relationship with Catherine. Though, apparently she did not know this yet as it had not been brought up during Catherine and Leonardo's last encounter. But still, something did not feel right. Something was knocking around in the back of Raphael's mind trying to gain his attention, but he couldn't seem to grasp it, the pain and the drugs Donatello had given him were clouding his mind too much, and for the rest of the day he had slipped into a drug-induced slumber.

And today, the day after he had woken up, he was still no closer to figuring anything out. He couldn't believe that Leonardo would just give up on his relationship with Catherine, but say it was okay for the rest of them to still be friends with her. Of course it was possible his big brother was just guilting them into complying with what he wanted of them. Raphael had already told Leonardo that he wouldn't risk either woman's life, which only left Donatello and Michelangelo to fall in line. And if their two older brothers dared not risk the connection, then neither would the two younger ones.

Shifting again in his cot he hissed in pain and closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the waves of agony to subside.

Donatello was suddenly at his side, concern crossing his features as he inserted a needle into the IV line that was still attached to his arm.

"I'm giving you a drug for the pain. It's different from the one I gave you yesterday and should help ease the pain and let you relax without making you fall asleep," Donatello informed him gently.

Raphael only nodded in acceptance. He had fought with his younger genius brother to have the IV removed and for him to be allowed to rest in his own room, but Donatello refused, intent on monitoring him in the lab. Thankfully, his purple masked brother placated him by promising it would only be for another couple days.

Fuzziness slowly seeped in, filling his mind and dulling his senses to the pain that had lashed through his torso. Whatever drug Donatello had injected him with made him feel groggy and oddly disconnected.

Donatello checked Raphael's wrappings and poked and prodded him a little before leaving him alone, his hazy thoughts drifting around slowly; like leaves caught within the delicate touch of a capricious wind, blown this way and that, with no particular destination or purpose until they floated unbidden to Catherine, where they stayed, softly reflecting upon her.

"I wonder what flower it is?" he mused silently, unaware he had actually spoken this errant thought aloud until Donatello asked him, 'What flower?' his voice full of concern and his face coming into view.

Raphael did not bother to focus on the fact he had spoken these very personal thoughts out loud, instead just answering groggily, "The flower she smells like...can't place it. Never smelled it before," he added, speaking more to himself than to his brother.

Donatello was silent a few moments before surprising him by answering, "Calluna vulgaris."

Even without the drugs in his system, he wouldn't have understood what his brother had just said. "Huh?" he asked in muzzy confusion.

"Heather. Her scent reminds me of Scottish heather," Donatello informed him.

Raphael frowned. That was a flower he's never heard of before. "Yeah?" he asked not bothering to ask his brother how he knew this, his mind fixated on the mysterious flower.

"It's a hardy shrub that thrives in inhospitable environments, particularly in acidic soil. It has small, bell shaped flowers of a purple-pink hue. The flower has a subtle sweet smell, but is more earthy and herb-like than other more aromatic blooms."

Raphael digested this as much as he was able to. He forgot about his brother's presence and contemplated Catherine further, unable to push her from his mind.

She was fire and ice, strength and fragility, stubbornness and acquiescence; a creature of contradictions and a paradox Raphael would never understand. But maybe that was the attraction. He never knew what she was going to do or say, because she usually did or said the unexpected. He would spend a lifetime trying to understand her and she would continue to surprise him.

Raphael was under no illusions about himself. He knew he was selfish, violent, angry, destructive, and couldn't help sabotaging almost every relationship with anyone he knew, but he wondered if he had been the one to meet Catherine first, if she would have seen something within him that was worthy of her.

This idle, wistful and somewhat depressing and disparaging contemplation was of course a moot point, because even if she had and even if he hadn't managed to screw things up with her -just by being himself- he would have had to let her go to keep her safe. Instead it was Leonardo pushing Catherine from his life in order to protect her. Except… Raphael wasn't sure if he would have the strength of will to let her go if he had her, but he'd like to think he would have tried.

Thoughts of his older brother brought up another moot point: telling Leonardo that Raphael had kissed Catherine -more than once- because he loved her. It would gain him nothing, and it wouldn't make Leonardo feel any better for the knowledge. They would never see Catherine again and there was no point in piling more hurt onto the pile of hurt that was already there.

But this thought brought his mind back around to Catherine and their exchanged kisses. Raphael could admit that he had known he was kissing Catherine in the lair. He had believed she was Elizabeth for all of a moment, almost convincing himself that he had thought it was her, only… in the back of his mind and in his heart, he had known it was Catherine. But this hadn't stopped him from pushing her up against the wall and claiming her lips in an earth-shattering kiss that had nearly driven him insane with need, want and desire, because Donatello was right, it had always been her.

The picture of the Fairy Queen had been firmly entrenched in his mind and given life by his imagination. And his imagination had created an ethereal creature of gentle grace and stunning beauty and imbued with a delicate, calm and quiet disposition; because he believed that was Leonardo's 'type': the feudal Japanese princess. And yet, that wasn't Raphael's 'type'. He was more the bad-ass, tattooed, crazy, biker chick type, which meant he had no idea what it was about the Fairy Queen's picture that had caught and held his attention, but he supposed he liked the mischievous smile that played across her lips.

He didn't understand how or why or even when, but it was possible that he had been falling in love with a dream. And then he had literally been knocked off his feet when the real woman had slammed into him, pushing him from the front stoop, down the stairs, driving the breath from his lungs, and somehow stealing his heart with a single look that did not register fear or revulsion, but instead, a quiet, calm acceptance.

His mind played around with this notion a little, languidly turning it this way and that as he smiled at the absurdity of it.

He had fallen -literally and figuratively- for a woman he didn't actually know.

He had fallen in love at first sight.

It was ridiculous.

You couldn't love someone you didn't know, but...now he did know her. And-

-he loved her even more.

Knowing her hadn't dimmed the initial feelings he had for her. They had only strengthened, because he loved everything about her. She was beautiful, almost painfully so, but it was her inner beauty that had caught and held his heart.

He loved the way she would tip her head to the side in thought, and the way the cat hat she always wore on her head made her look like a curious kitten. He loved the way her laugh was uninhibited and joyous. He loved the smile that would stretch across her lips and place a twinkle of light and mirth in her gaze. He loved the imp of mischief that would dance in her eyes, as if she held a secret you would never know. He loved her self-control, because he had none. He was in awe of her intelligence and could admit that although he knew she was by far smarter than he was, he didn't actually feel threatened by this, because for some reason he couldn't fathom, she actually respected his own intelligence and placed it upon the same level as her own. He admired her spirit and bravery as much as he was frustrated by them. He respected her loyalty, but most of all, he was humbled by her heart, because she had more of it than he did, and he strongly believed she was unaware of how caring and giving she truly was.

She had tried to help him -of all creatures- and although a part of him hated her for this intrusion, the other part of him was touched that she even cared enough to bother.

"Honey," he mumbled aloud.

"What's that?" Donatello's voice asked softly.

"She tastes like honey," he answered, not even thinking about the ramifications of what he was saying.

"Who?" Donatello asked his voice neutral and careful.

"Catherine," he breathed out her name in a sigh.

Donatello's face suddenly appeared in his line of sight, his face worried. "You kissed Catherine?"

Raphael smiled and held up his hand. "Three times," he said almost as if he were proud of this fact, which he wasn't, but at the moment he felt oddly loquacious.

Donatello quickly looked around and pulled up a chair beside Raphael's cot, leaning in close and dropping his voice to a whisper. "You kissed Catherine three times?" he hissed.

"Yup," he answered and then frowned, counting on his fingers, "Two were accidental...sort of, but I only really kissed her once on purpose."

Donatello looked at him incredulously. "How do you accidentally kiss...Never mind," Donatello huffed, waving this question away. "Are you going to tell Leo?"

"No point. Moot point. Moot...Moooot. Moooooooot. Funny word. Makes my lips feel numb," he said moving his mouth a little and closing his eyes, suddenly feeling more tired than he had a few moments ago.

"Raph," his brother's sharp insistent voice tugged at his consciousness causing him to open his eyes again.

"Not gonna see the Curious Kitten again," he said morosely. "Kitty...Cat..." his mind rolled as he tried to find what his brain was getting at. "Can I have her?" he wondered.

"I'm sorry, Raph," his brother gently took his hand in his own, "but-"

"She…she doesn't...keep the nightmares away, but she...watches…and I feel better when..." his eyelids slid closed, unable to finish his thought.

"You mean Catherine's Bastet statue?" Donatello asked softly.

Raphael smiled, drifting for a few moments between consciousness and unconsciousness. His mind firmly settled upon Catherine and the memory of her smiling at him -a true smile- the one that lit her face and turned his insides to mush and shook his resolve so much it took every ounce of willpower he possessed to push her away from him.

That smile had been given to him in brief moments of time when he and Catherine had been together, in perfect accord and he had been happy.

The night at the batting cages -when his world had crumbled as he had realized he was still damaged- was not a good memory, nor had it been a good night. But nestled within the center of the unpleasant realizations, frustrations and horror of it all, was the acknowledgement that he enjoyed Catherine's company.

She constantly pushed him and turned his world on its head, but when he had stopped being an ass long enough to appreciate her company, he realized that for the first time in over four years, probably even longer, that he had felt at home in his own skin.

Before the Shredder had taken everything from him, the heat of battle had been the only time he had felt alive. It was the only time he was not thinking about how shitty everything in his life was. It all faded into the background and was replaced by the adrenalin pumping struggle for survival or justice. But after the Shredder it was too risky for him to really fight anymore; he could barely even spar with his own brothers. It hadn't stopped him from brawling of course, but it hadn't felt the same. It was like an opaque grey film had been placed over his existence and he hadn't realized it was there until Catherine had ripped it away exposing the world to his eyes; vibrant, beautiful, and filled with hues that nearly blinded him with their intensity.

Except that it didn't matter anymore. It hadn't mattered then. His mental instability was too much, he could never have had her and now his brother couldn't have her either. But he wondered, if things had been different; if everything had been different, "-if she could have loved me," he unknowingly finished the rest of his thought out loud.

Donatello watched as Raphael slipped into unconsciousness. He slowly released his brother's hand and walked over to where he had placed the syringe with which he had injected the pain medication into Raphael's IV. He had the exact dosage he had used on previous occasions and never had Raphael bordered on giddy, loose lipped or fallen asleep. He looked at his brother's sleeping face and realized that it was thinner than he remembered it being.

He hadn't realized that his brother had lost so much weight. This meant he had given his brother a higher dosage than he had meant to. His brother would be fine when he woke up, if a little groggy. Though, he secretly hoped that his brother did not remember any of what he had revealed as it would no doubt mortify and horrify him.

Sighing silently to himself, he looked up as Michelangelo entered the lab, a comic book held in his hand, his face tired, concerned and contrite.

"Hey, Donny," he said glancing over at Raphael. "I brought Raph the new issue of Harbinger. I thought he might like to read it," he offered softly.

Donatello gave a half smile. "I'm sure he will, Mikey, but Raph's asleep right now."

Michelangelo gave a weak smile and a nod as he placed the comic on the nightstand Donatello had set up for Raphael this morning.

"Would you mind watching him for a few minutes? I just need to grab something from upstairs," he asked his baby brother.

"Oh. Uh…sure, Donny," Michelangelo acquiesced hesitantly.

Donatello paused and studied his baby brother's face for a moment before he gave a slow nod of acknowledgement and thanks. He would ask his orange-masked brother if anything was bothering him when he returned. Donatello's mind was too full and tumultuous at the moment to deal with any more issues.

Quickly exiting his lab he made his way to the upper level, Raphael's words fresh and ringing in his mind.

He contemplated Raphael's admission that he had kissed Catherine -more than once- though two were apparently accidental. He could only postulate, given Raphael's previous acerbic, hostile and generally antagonistic demeanour towards Catherine, that it was possible that the two accidental kisses had been the result of his brother's apparent inability to tell the two sisters apart. In fact, the kisses could all have occurred before Catherine and Leonardo had even started dating and it was probable that they had happened when Raphael was still pursuing Elizabeth.

As for the kiss that was purposeful, it was probably much like the one he had given Elizabeth. There had been nothing kind, caring or even loving about it, as it had been designed to punish and frighten her. And if there was anyone Raphael believed in need of being punished or frightened, it was Catherine. At least, that was the general impression Donatello had gotten from Raphael right up until two nights ago when Raphael was confronted with the details of Catherine's past as well as his true feelings for her.

As for Donatello's insistence that Leonardo be told of these physical intimacies, he supposed, in the end, that Raphael was right. Telling Leonardo would serve no purpose other than to drive an even larger wedge between the two older siblings. They were both in love with the same woman and both had just lost her. He imagined that was enough pain to deal with without adding betrayal to it.

Though how much of a betrayal had actually been committed Donatello was unsure of.

Coming to a stop in front of Raphael's bedroom door, he stood there for a moment, his brother's last words echoing in his mind and making his heart ache. Deep down Raphael -cocky, confident, egotistical Raphael- didn't really believe that Catherine could have loved him.

Donatello could admit that Raphael was a little -okay more than a little- rough around the edges, but this didn't make him unlovable.

The problem of course was that Raphael always compared himself to Leonardo, as if their oldest brother was the pinnacle of perfection; only he was just as flawed as the rest of them were. No one was perfect, nor could they or should they ever be. It was their flaws that made them who they were just as much as their virtues. And although Raphael had many faults, he had just as many good qualities as well.

Of which Catherine was actually aware; now that he thought about it, remembering Raphael's frantic research into his name, trying to find the insult Catherine had lobbed at him, only to discover that she had complimented him.

So it was possible that Catherine was not fooled by Raphael's attempts to hurt, intimidate and bully her.

Catherine had been prickly towards Raphael when they had first met, in obvious relation to Raphael's antagonistic and acerbic attitude towards her, but now that Donatello thought about it, Catherine's behaviour towards Raphael had undergone a rapid change; as if she had finally been able to see past the mask and armour Raphael presented to the world and was no longer deceived by it.

Or Donatello was reading way too much into everything…

Taking a deep breath, he let himself into Raphael's room. Closing the door behind him he thought to himself how strange it was to actually be in his red masked brother's room without him in it. It was the one room in the entire lair that was completely and absolutely off limits to the rest of them. An 'enter at pain of death 'decree had been forcefully and severely instilled into all of them. Donatello was pretty sure he still had the scars from when he was ten and had snuck into Raphael's room uninvited to take back a toy his red-masked brother had absconded with.

But in all fairness, this time around, Raphael had given him permission to be in his room...sort of.

Scanning the bedroom, he saw that it was as Donatello remembered it looking like after he had brought Raphael's new bed frame and mattress into the room; a bed given to Raphael courtesy of Catherine.

This errant thought caused Donatello to pause in momentary contemplation. Unfortunately, before he was able to examine this thought more closely, he was distracted by the Bastet statue that sat upon Raphael's bedside night table.

Walking over to the statue he picked it up and sat down upon the edge of Raphael's bed, contemplating the cat that radiated a quiet serenity and an ever watchful elegance that hid the strength and fierceness of a lioness.

Donatello hadn't known the statue was Catherine's, he had suspected something of course when he had caught it in his hand after Michelangelo had sent it flying, but he hadn't realized it held such immense sentimental value for Catherine, because he had the distinct impression at the time that it was incredibly important to Raphael.

When Raphael had snatched it from his hands, it had been like his brother feared losing it. At least, that was what Donatello had thought at the time. It was more probable that Raphael feared the discovery of it, either because if word got back to Leonardo that Raphael had something of Catherine's it would make things awkward, or because Raphael had stolen it from Catherine.

After mulling it over in his head for a moment, he believed the latter option to be the correct one, as Raphael had looked as if he was about to be sick when Leonardo had mentioned the statue in his lengthy recitation before Raphael had gone out and been shot.

Raphael had always acted towards Catherine with cruel dislike and antagonism. Raphael hadn't accepted or perhaps even known of his feelings for her until Donatello had smashed him upside the head with the obviousness of them; which meant that the statue had most likely been taken out of some sort of spiteful deviltry. But it seemed like Raphael's own inner feelings had seeped through and the statue had become more than just a pawn with which to torment Catherine with. It had suddenly become a symbol, a representation of something, possibly even of Catherine herself. Though Donatello was pretty sure Raphael himself didn't even realize this.

Donatello studied the statue closely, noticing the broken ear and head which had been glued back together. The poor statue had taken a beating, been broken, but had managed to survive this.

He wondered if Catherine knew that Raphael had the statue. It seemed unlikely given the sentimental value it possessed for her. He didn't believe that she would just give something so precious to Raphael, considering their strained, hostile relationship and the breakable nature of the statue in relation to Raphael's volatile, destructive and impulsive personality.

Turning the statue over in his hands his mind focused upon the other surprising piece of information his red-masked brother had unknowingly divulged: his nightmares.

Raphael had suffered horrific nightmares and violent flashbacks after his torture, but Donatello had believed they were a thing of the past, but perhaps they weren't, which made him wonder if there was anything else his brother was hiding.

Standing, he placed the statue back on Raphael's night table, figuring it would be best left there. If he brought it into the lab and Leonardo saw it, too many questions would be asked and he wanted to get his own answers from his red-masked brother first. That, and he believed that Raphael should be the one to give it back to Catherine, along with a full apology, or at least a note, since Raphael had no intention of ever seeing Catherine again, and neither did Donatello.

He couldn't remain friends with the woman both of his brothers loved when they refused to be selfish and place her in possible danger, and because of this, he refused to hurt his brothers further by remaining friends with either woman. This was a shame because he genuinely enjoyed both Catherine and Elizabeth's company and would miss them. And even though he knew that it should be for the women to choose their own path, he knew there was no arguing with his older brothers.

About to leave the room he walked past Raphael's desk, surprisingly clear of any papers, clothing, weapons or magazines and noticed that the one drawer didn't appear to be fully closed.

He reached out and tried to close it, but there was something in the way. Pulling open the drawer he dislodged a ruler. Looking at the wooden object and wondering why Raphael actually had a ruler in his room, something within the drawer caught his attention.

Frowning he reached into the drawer and didn't even assess the consequences of rifling through Raphael's personal things.

He looked at the handwritten note which read; Raphael, the only one who can chase away your nightmares, is you. If you ever need to talk, I'm here, Catherine.

Placing the note back in the drawer, he slowly closed it.

Catherine knew that Raphael suffered from horrible nightmares and although Donatello was surprised by this, he knew that Catherine was unusually perceptive. It was perhaps her own experience of being confined within the walls of a mental facility that had allowed her to see this affliction in Raphael. In response she had most likely slipped the note beneath Raphael's door offering her support because he would not take it from her if she offered it face to face. And knowing Raphael, he had not talked with Catherine anyway, because to do so, he would have to admit that he had a problem and have to discuss his feelings and his past, which didn't seem like something Raphael would do, no matter how much he loved Catherine; or more precisely, because he loved Catherine.

Leaving Raphael's bedroom he made his way back to the lab feeling downcast and a little broken-hearted.

Michelangelo sat asleep in the chair Donatello had earlier vacated. It was obvious his baby brother was exhausted; they all were.

The night before last they had all suffered a great shock and were all relieved that Raphael hadn't been more grievously injured.

And even though it was only a little after dinner, Donatello himself knew he needed the rest, but found that his mind was too occupied to sleep.

Not wanting to wake his baby brother, Donatello walked over and picked up a spare blanket, draping it over Michelangelo's sleeping form. He moved the comic book Michelangelo had been reading out of the way and looked at the front cover.

Walking over to his computer chair he sat down in it and leaned back, opening the comic book to the first page.

When he had asked Michelangelo to show him the comic books, Michelangelo had insisted he read every single issue. And he had. What had surprised him was that even though the comic did contain graphic violence and partial nudity, it was actually well written and illustrated. Amazingly he had found himself enjoying it as much as he was able to enjoy such reading material, and was curious where the storyline was going.

He knew the Raven had to be Catherine, because it was too coincidental that the poster that hung in their living room had gone from unsigned (he had noticed when he had entered the basement) to signed. And since the signature matched the ones at the front of each comic and Catherine had been the only one in a position to sign the poster, it was logical to conclude that Catherine was the Raven. And in reading the comic books, he could see touches and flourishes of Catherine's personality in Harbinger, though the character seemed to draw upon Catherine's sister, Elizabeth as well, so she was more of a blending of the two women.

Quite frankly, he was surprised than none of his brothers had figured it out yet.

Scanning the first page, he read that Lucifer did not kill Gabriel, only sending him back to Heaven for a little while after a discussion on the fate of a woman they both had loved centuries ago and had lost. She was a human woman by the name of Catríona, pronounced Ka-tree-uh-nuh; which was the Scottish Gaelic form of Catherine.

This made Donatello's lips twitch in appreciation since Catherine was telling her readers her actual name, but none would ever make the connection with the exception of himself.

After about half an hour of intense scrutiny of the comic -his mind startled by the eerie similarities between the events in the comic and their present circumstances- Donatello put the comic down. He chastised himself for reading way too much into it. Catherine would have had to have sketched, inked and sent the pages for this issue to the publisher months earlier than the events that were currently transpiring in their lives at the moment. Sure it was about two brothers -complete opposites- who had loved the same woman and lost her to death, but other than that the similarities ended.

"Crazy, huh?" Michelangelo's soft voice inquired, startling Donatello; since he believed his baby brother to still be sleeping.

Donatello stared at his brother a moment, not quite sure what his brother was talking about. "The comic?" he offered hesitantly.

"Well...yeah...that too," Michelangelo agreed softly. "But...that isn't what I was talking about," Michelangelo said quietly, his gaze drifting towards Raphael. "We almost lost him last night, didn't we?"

"We could have," Donatello answered slowly, his heart still not completely recovered from the events of that night. It was pure luck that the bullet had hit Raphael's metal plate as opposed to the much less bullet resistant keratin of his plastron.

Michelangelo nodded his face sombre and pensive. He looked like he wanted to talk about something important, but was unsure of how to start; or perhaps his thoughts were just too unfinished to begin. Either way, something was obviously on his brother's mind. About to prompt him, Michelangelo spoke before he had the chance.

"I've met someone, Donny," Michelangelo ventured, his eye downcast, cheeks flushed dark with embarrassment.

Gaping at his brother, he felt as if all of the air it had just been kicked out of his lungs. Many unexpected and unusual things tended to spill out from his brother's mouth, but this turn of phrase was one he never would have anticipated; mostly because at the moment, things were too uncertain and their friendship with Catherine and Elizabeth was at an end due to the perceived dangers posed by Leonardo.

Donatello remained silent, mostly because he was completely and totally speechless. Unfortunately Michelangelo seemed to think his silence stemmed from disapproval rather than shock, and his baby brother quickly stood, beginning to pace back and forth in agitation, quickly explaining himself.

"I...the truth is I...Donny, I know it's wrong. I know Leo has this thing where he thinks we can't be with anyone because it's dangerous and it isn't like I don't agree with him and I get that Cat and El have things in their past, but I…I think Leo's wrong. Raph could have died last night. Any one of us, anyone we know, could die at any moment from an accident, an illness, anything! And I know everything is crappy right now, but I don't want to go through life worrying about everything that could happen." Michelangelo caught his eye for a moment. "And it wasn't as if I was looking, Donny, I swear. It just…happened. And-"

"It just…happened?" he asked in a monotone voice interrupting his brother's agitated speech.

"Yeah," Michelangelo answered discontinuing his pacing to flop into the chair he had vacated; hunching forward, placing his forearms on his knees and clasping his hands together in front of him. "For the past two weeks I've been following El around, and El has been…"Michelangelo's voice trailed off uncertainly.

Donatello narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "El's been what?" he prompted.

"Not important," Michelangelo finally answered, waving this away.

Donatello managed to put two and two together and groaned inwardly. "Sabrina," he said aloud."

"They were doing a-"

"-photo shoot."

This interruption only stopped his baby brother for a moment. "Right…How did you...? Never mind," Michelangelo waved this line of questioning away. "I might have gotten too close…"

"Miikeeey," he moaned, closing his eyes and placing a hand over his eyes in resigned annoyance.

"I fell out of the tree! But it wasn't my fault!" he defended. "The branch broke and then I hit the ground and luckily El knew who I was because I was pretty sure Sabey-"

"Sabey?" Donatello asked hollowly.

"Sabrina. She was going to beat me to death with her camera if El hadn't stopped her. And El was accusing me of spying on her to find out more about the Raven, which I denied cause I wasn't, but El didn't believe me, and it isn't like I was going to tell her that Leo told me to follow her. But then my hood had fallen back and Sabrina was looking at me and I almost freaked out and ran away but she was just looking at me, and then she was like, 'You're beautiful,' and I think I almost turned into a puddle right there and then."

Michelangelo paused, his face going from flustered to serious. "I'm not saying I love her or anything Donny, but I really like her and I want to spend more time with her and see where things go and… I get what Leo's saying, but…I'm tired of being alone, aren't you?" he asked, his gaze searching Donatello's own, his brother's expression desperate and pleading.

And what was Donatello supposed to say to that? Tow the line and tell his brother that it was as dangerous as Leonardo believed, or tell his brother the truth? After a moment he finally answered softly, "Yeah, Mikey, I am."

An hour later, Donatello stood outside of the meditation room their father had used before his death. Leonardo was the only one who used it now and he knew his older brother was in the room; his shadow cast upon the paper screen lit in silhouette from the candles that flickered and danced within the confines of the chamber.

Taking a breath he slid the paper doors open. Leonardo's eye's snapped open and he quickly stood from his seated position, his face filled with worry.

"Raph's fine," he assured his oldest brother. "He's sleeping and Mikey is looking after him."

Leonardo nodded in relief, waiting for Donatello to explain his sudden intrusion.

He had come to his older brother to seek some sort of advice, but he suddenly felt as if he wasn't able to put order to his rapidly shifting and churning thoughts and emotions.

Donatello felt weighted down with too many concerns and too many secrets and now he was slowly drowning beneath all of it.

Michelangelo had made him promise not to tell Leonardo about Sabrina. Michelangelo was going to tell their oldest brother, but after everything with Karai had been settled. Michelangelo believed that if things with Karai worked out, that Leonardo would see that he was overreacting and would be more open and accepting of his budding relationship with Sabrina.

Of course, this was only one secret of the many Donatello now held, which included his knowledge of Raphael's feelings for Catherine and the kisses shared between them, Raphael's theft of Bastet, and Raphael's nightmares.

Donatello felt overwhelmed and exhausted. It seemed as if the trajectory of the rest of their lives hinged on the operation Leonardo was about to assist Karai with two days from now; and that two days couldn't come and be over fast enough.

"What's wrong, Donny?" Leonardo asked carefully as if sensing his apprehension.

After a moment of thoughtful contemplation Donatello asked, "What do you want from us, Leo?" he inquired softly.

His brother was silent before he answered, "I just want all of you to be happy and to know that your actions have consequences, both for yourselves and others."

Donatello processed his brother's words. "Don't you want to be happy?" he asked a little more harshly than he had meant to.

Leonardo seemed a little startled by the bite in Donatello's voice but answered in a tone that was almost too quiet to hear, "To keep the ones we love safe sometimes we have to make sacrifices, Donny." Leonardo walked past him, leaving him standing alone in the meditation room, a feeling of heavy dread spooling tightly in his gut.

Okay all, I promise next chapter is the beginning of everything that has been building up, going down:)