A/N: I did say it would get worse before it gets better... There is a method to my madness, promise.
Meanwhile, a couple of announcements: The Stealthy Stories fic competition is underway. The nominees are posted! Go read the lists and be sure to vote. There are some truly awesome stories listed this year. Congrats to the nominees!

Also, one of the nominees, DuckiePray, has a current fic up that's an amazing read. (I should know, I beta'd it) lol
Redemption is in full swing. If you haven't read it... All I can say is DO. If the cliffhangers don't give you a heart attack, the ending will melt you into a puddle of happy goo. :)

Chapter 34 ~Fight~

The room was quiet as Sierra closed the bedroom door behind her. She'd finally managed to convince Isamu to go with Raphael to play with Kouki. She paused for a moment, looking around the room she shared with Leonardo. Even here his presence seemed to resonate, but instead of the calm peace she usually found in his unique scent that lay lightly on the air, she felt stifled. Giving herself a shake, she went over to the cage in the corner at the end of the bed. Opening the wire door, she reached in, allowing a small, silk-furred animal to scurry out across her hand and onto her arm. She smiled as a second sugar glider chirped at her before following her sister.

Ruth leapt, landing with a faint thump in the center of the bed. Candy perched on Sierra's head, scrambling through her hair before coming to rest on the side, just above Sierra's ear, clinging. Finally, with another barking chirp, she launched herself onto the bed, landing a few feet away from Ruth who crabbed in irritation at being startled.

Sierra sank down on the end of the bed, watching the two jostle about for a moment. Ruth shot up the semi-circular wall, clinging to the brick as easily as if it were the bark of a tree. Candy made her way to the pillow, pausing there a moment before taking a running leap to the top of the desk nearby. Sierra laughed as the little marsupial skittered across the smooth surface, coming to rest with an indignant expression on a sheet of paper.

"Come on now, off Leo's desk," Sierra scolded gently. "If you mess up his writing he'll be annoyed."

Candy crabbed loudly, but allowed herself to be herded off the desk. Sierra paused a moment, lingering over the familiar handwriting. Leo'd been practicing his Japanese writing. The graceful strokes of his katakana matched everything else about him, controlled, smooth, deliberate. Sierra sighed and slid the paper into a drawer, out of harm's way.

Candy scrambled up the wall at the head of the bed, turning to launch herself into space, gliding to land lightly on the bed. Ruth did the same, landing on the floor. She turned and raced up the bedpost, climbing the blue comforter back onto the bed, and racing up the wall once more, only to launch herself back into space.

The pair repeated their circuit again and again, and Sierra felt herself beginning to relax, watching their antics. Finally she got up, holding her hands out to them.

"All right, you two. It's time you settled down," she told them.

Candy scrambled willingly into her hand. The older glider tired more easily than her younger counterpart, and she was more willing to return to the enclosure for her nightly treat of fresh fruit and honey. Ruth, however, seemed determined to elude capture. Sierra turned to the cage with a sigh, letting Candy rush off her palm. The greedy little animal stuck her head into the dish, lapping up the honey as fast as her tiny pink tongue could go.

Sierra heard the door slide open and closed again, and tensed, but ignored her husband's presence as she leaned over the bed, reaching up to Ruth.

"Come on, now," she coaxed, hoping to corral the glider so she could make her escape. She wasn't ready to talk to Leonardo. He'd been moody and distant since discovering Isamu's presence in the Lair, and although Sierra understood why, she wasn't feeling forgiving.

Ruth was having none of it. She launched off the wall again. Sierra lunged for her, throwing her momentum off. In the instant it took for the horrified realization that Ruth was heading directly for Leonardo's katanas, resting in their custom rack on the small display stand, to tear through Sierra's mind, a flash of green and caramel came between the small gray rocket and the razor-sharp swords.

Leonardo's dark eyes met Sierra's. He wasn't smiling. Wordlessly, he crossed the room, opening the cage and depositing the now-crabbing Ruth inside. Residual fear for her pet had Sierra shaking. She opened her mouth to thank her husband, but his sharp glance froze the words before they could reach her tongue.

In that look she saw a guardedness, accusation and frustration. The familiar fear and hurt cut into her, and she had to remind herself that Leonardo was not her first husband. Unlike Derek, he had never raised a hand to her, ever.

I'm safe with Leo. He's not going to hit me, ever. she told herself firmly. Even if he is being an idiot about Isamu. Leonardo's controlled strength was a source of deep, reassuring security to Sierra, but she'd found during their rare arguments, that it also had the power to revive old fears and memories. She'd been working to repress her instinctive responses, but she knew Leonardo often went out of his way to be gentle with her. In the past few days, he hadn't said much about Isamu, hadn't spoken about the emotions she could feel emanating from him like heat waves. Sierra knew he was trying to be patient, but she had the feeling of living with a volcano about to explode.

Taking a deep breath she forced herself to speak. "Thank you," she said. The words sounded stiff in her own ears, so she tried again. "For catching Ruth."

He simply nodded, moving toward the small chest of drawers next to the display stand. He pulled open a drawer, carefully laying the pads he normally wore for practice inside. Watching, Sierra realized he'd just come from the shower.

"Did you have a good run?" she asked.

He glanced at her. "Donny took me to the children's home," he said quietly. "The Foot were there. They're looking for the boy."

"Oh no." Sierra sank down onto the bed, feeling cold. "What are we going to do?"

Leonardo snorted. "Splinter says he's staying here until we can find someplace safe to put him," he replied, derision clear in his voice.

The tone was so like Derek's, tension ran through her like a wave.

"What would you do? Put him out on the street?" she snapped.

"I'd take him to a shelter," responded Leo evenly. Sierra could hear the tightness in his voice that indicated he was keeping a tenuous hold on his temper.

"And what do you think would happen to him there? He'd be shuffled back into the system, lost in some already overcrowded foster care," she responded angrily, standing up and stalking across the room. "Of course, that's if the Foot don't find him. You know they're ruthless. They'd hunt him down. They won't stop until..."

"Exactly." The even edge was cracking. Leonardo's voice rose. "They won't stop until they have what they want. Sierra, we can't afford to get into a clan war! You don't understand what they're like. They won't stop… they'll never stop!"

"I think I do know what they're like, Leonardo," she shot back. "Or have you forgotten that I was Karai's guest?"

"Exactly! Do you think for one moment she'd hesitate to take one of ours in return?" he shouted. "Do you think she'll stop at anything?"

Sierra's own temper snapped. "So what do you want to do? Do you want to turn an innocent little boy over to her to protect your family?"

"If that's what it takes," he shot back.

Sierra stood, staring at him, for a long moment, pain rising up in a boiling wave, swamping her. She took a deep breath, trying to stuff the hurt and anger back into its box, forcing herself to speak more calmly than she felt.

"You would sacrifice an innocent child to protect this family?" She shook her head. "That's not a kind of protection I want any part of." She turned, stalking toward the door, but a firm hand on her arm stopped her, spinning her sharply around to stare into furious dark eyes.

Instinctively, Sierra writhed, jerking free and throwing up an arm to shield her face from a blow. The emotions she'd been trying to hold back broke loose, pouncing like a wild thing, tearing into her, leaving her shaking and cold. She cringed as her arm was released, backing away.

Dark eyes, glaring... the overpowering smell of whiskey...

"Sierra… I…"

The soft, shocked voice didn't register with Sierra. She was lost in the memory.

Fists, coming at her, crashing into her body… Haley's panicked cries… An empty-eyed demon, standing over a man, blood spreading across the floor…

Sierra turned and ran from the room, unreasoning panic lending her speed. She hardly paused at the heavy stone door that guarded the entrance to the sewers, stopping only long enough to work the mechanism with shaking hands. She ran, blindly at first, driven by fear-fueled adrenaline. Even when her heart's pounding finally slowed so that she could hear other sounds, and a cramp clawed at her side, she didn't slow down.

It wasn't until she had traveled over a mile from the Lair and the stitch in her side had her doubling over, gasping for breath, that she finally came to a stop. Sinking against the cool brick wall, she tucked her knees up against her chest, hugging them, and rested her sweating forehead on her arms.

Sierra expected to cry, but nothing came. She felt empty, bereft, as if she'd run off and left behind a part of herself and she'd never be whole again. She'd felt much the same way the night her daughter, Haley, died.

It hadn't been until weeks later, long after the funeral, when her own injuries had healed enough to allow her to visit her child's grave, that she'd cried, great wracking sobs that threatened to tear her apart. When she'd finally stopped crying, curled up against the cold stone in the cemetery, she'd picked herself up, left the graveyard, and walked to the nearest bar. She'd spent the next week trying to drown herself in whiskey, before Gene and Marjory Spencer had found her and taken her to their home. It had been the beginning of her journey back to herself. Now it seemed as if she were beginning all over again.

You did it once. You can do this again, a small voice reminded her. Musume, it is time to let happier memories of your daughter bring you joy, another voice echoed in her memory. Tears stung her eyes, and she wiped them with one hand.

What will Splinter think of me? Running away like that… Oh Leo, I'm so sorry.

Hot shame washed over her, making her shiver again. Sitting up, Sierra took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Ok, so Leo and I had a fight. It's not as if we've never argued before. It's just that I've never… run away before. Well, here I am. I know where I am, I think. She glanced around. Better get topside, so I can get my bearings.

Moving carefully along the tunnel, Sierra soon came to a ladder leading up to a storm drain. Maneuvering the grating carefully aside with no small effort, she slipped out of the drain, quickly clamoring to her feet and glancing around.

Ok, so I'm not too far from April's. Too bad I didn't run in the other direction, I'd be right near her store. It's kind of far to walk. She glanced around a bit nervously. I'm pretty close to the docks. Better get a cab. Sierra started walking toward the nearest lights. As she drew closer, the pulsing beat of loud music met her ears.

A faint smile tugged at her lips as she recognized one of the very clubs she'd frequented during the dark time after Haley's death.

How appropriate that I'd end up back here, she thought a shade bitterly. Well at least I can use the phone to call April and let her know I'm dropping in on her, she thought. I hope she's still up. I know she sometimes works late on a project but it seems rude to just show up. Gathering the remaining shreds of her courage, she opened the door and went inside.

"Hey, hey hot stuff!" A drunken man lurched over to her, leering. "Whatdaya say you an' me take a swing 'round the dance floor?"

"No thank you. I'm just here to use the phone," replied Sierra, stepping back to avoid his groping hand.

"Aww come on, baby… it's just a little dance," insisted the man. His watery blue eyes peered into her face as he attempted to focus.

"I said no thanks," she said, as he reached for her again. Her hand came down on his wrist with a sharp jab, and he jerked back, rubbing his stinging wrist. By the time he gathered enough indignation to get angry, she'd slipped past him and was heading across the room toward the restrooms, where the pay phones were located.

Reaching her destination, Sierra reached into her jeans pocket, sending up a prayer of thanks that she'd changed out of her work out clothes back into her normal attire before blasting out of the Lair. To her intense dismay, she found no change, only a plastic debit card. She took a deep breath.

Thank you, Lord, that I at least have my card, she breathed silently.

Turning away from the phone, she moved toward the end of the bar. A small ATM machine was tucked into a corner, an expensive convenience provided for patrons whose capacity proved larger than the cash they'd brought with them for the evening's revelries.

She slid the card into the slot and punched the relevant numbers, retrieving a twenty from her personal account, though she made a face at the size of the fee the machine informed her she'd be charged. Snatching the cash and the receipt, she turned toward the bar. The familiar scents of beer and whiskey greeted her like old friends, but she ignored the sudden craving.

"Can I get change for the phone?" she asked the man behind the bar.

"Sure, lady, no problem. Hey, don't I know you?"

She shook her head. She knew him, of course. He'd poured her shot after shot, patiently calling her a cab each night when her money'd run out or she'd finally passed out on the bar.

"I… used to come in here sometimes, but that was a long time ago," she said quietly.

The barkeep studied her for another long moment before snapping his fingers. "I remember now. You were Derek Johnson's wife." He scowled. "That guy was a creep. I'm real sorry about your little girl. How you been, anyway?" He punched a button on the register, popping the drawer open and counting out her change.

"I'm… remarried," said Sierra, forcing a smile. "To a very good man."

"Well ya look great." The man gave her a genuine smile. "Hey, how about a shot an' a beer for the road? On the house?"

For an instant, Sierra wavered. The familiar burn of alcohol would chase away some of the cold emptiness that had settled in the pit of her stomach. It would be so easy, so very easy, to take her place on the bar stool and forget her troubles for a little while, maybe even dance with some one on the crowded floor, letting the music pulse away the emotions that were warring in her. She shook her head.

"Thanks, but no. I quit drinking. Been dry over three years now."

"Good for you." The man nodded approvingly. "You go home to that good man, and take care of yourself, you hear? You were too good for that scumbag Derek. It's good to see ya doin' good fer yourself."

"It was good to see you too… Ben." The name came back from years of memory.

He smiled widely. "You were always a good kid. You take care of yourself, ok?"

"I will. Thanks for the change."

Dialing the familiar number, Sierra waited, biting her lip. This is stupid. I should just go home. But I can't… not yet. I just can't.

Finally there was a click, and a somewhat sleepy "Hello?"

"April? It's Sierra."

"Sierra? What's wrong?" April's voice was suddenly wide-awake, in the manner of someone long accustomed to middle-of-the-night emergency calls.

"No, it's… it's just me, April." Sierra tried to steady her voice, but the tears forced their way out of her eyes, sliding down her cheeks. She leaned her forehead against the cool plastic of the payphone.

"Leo… Leo and I had a fight. Can I come to your place? Just for tonight?"

"Of course, Sierra, you know you're welcome here any time." April's concern came clearly down the wires. "Where are you?"

"At the Tower Club. Down by the bay," responded Sierra.

"You stay right there. I'll come pick you up."

"Thanks April."

Sierra hung up and started for the door. She'd gotten no more than a few steps when a heavy hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"I told you, I'm not interested," snapped Sierra, spinning to ward off the drunk. To her shock, her assailant wasn't the drunken man, but Ben, the bartender. He released her, taking a step back.

"Whoa. Hey, relax. I just gotta tell ya, the bill ya gave me…" he was watching her with a piercing gaze. "It ain't no good."

"What do you mean? I just got it from the ATM!"

"It's a fake. I'm gonna hafta ask ya fer the money back," he said firmly. "I can't go takin' counterfeits."

"Counterfeit? Perfect." Sierra muttered. She dug into her pocket for the remaining money. "Sorry, it's short what I had to use in the phone."

He shook his head. "It's ok. By rights I should call the cops, but tell ya what, I'll call 'em and show 'em the bill an' I just won't mention your name, ok? For old time's sake."

Sierra just nodded. She turned toward the door, feeling numb.

"Any time you want a drink, you come on in," called the man. "Come see ol' Ben, anytime. I'll take care o' you."