Apologies to my peoples!

I was planning on posting the next chapter yesterday,

but life has a way of interfering with plans, right?

So here it is!

Enjoy!

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The book fell open about half-way through. The purple silk ribbon that had marked the page was frayed at the end... the book was old. The page was thin, but someone had underlined several sentences. Phoenix saw the words, and her eyes widened.

'If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.'

Phoenix touched the page in shock. She had never heard such a idea, that you are nothing without... Love? She continued reading.

'Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.'

The last line leapt out at her, as her heart and mind argued over the truth of what had happened.

'And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is Love.'

She smiled at the realization. Wasn't that what she'd been trying to understand? Trying to fathom why it felt as though she'd been only half-alive before meeting him?

'Do I LOVE him?' Her heart pounded, and she felt dizzy for a moment, then a cold fear touched her. 'And what if he doesn't feel the same?' The better question was 'Did it matter?'

Even if he didn't, this knowledge was a gift, Phoenix smiled sadly. A gift she couldn't refuse.

She touched the book, closed it, and picked it up. She would ask the gallery owner if someone had asked about it... someone must've left it their by accident.

Phoenix walked to the sink and turned on the cold water. Phoenix wet down a paper towel and pressed it against the back of her neck. She needed fresh air, and quiet. She glanced upwards. The roof was appealing.

The door of the bathroom opened, and April walked in. She went to the next sink over, and touched up her lipstick. "Hey." She made eye-contact in the mirror.

"Hi." Phoenix replied, and dried her hands... April glanced down, her eyes fixating on the back of the other girl's left hand.

On a familiar-looking scar.

Michelangelo settled down on the roof in a sheltered spot away from the door. He'd brought a couple of things with him from the lair, one of which was his journal, the other... his sketchbook.

He'd told her the truth when he'd said he didn't paint. He didn't count work on Raph's bike or his skateboard as 'painting'. But if he had a decent charcoal pencil? He could draw anything. He'd sketched his family before, April, and Casey... now his pencil seemed to fly on it's own. That look she'd shoot over her shoulder with 'damn-your-eyes' fire... the expression on her face when she'd found him cooking them breakfast... the dreamy, innocent smile she'd given him while they where dancing. He wished he'd remembered to grab his colored pencils too! With the right colors, and a little shading, he could... could...

Mikey shut his drawing pad with a snap. 'I've got it bad.' he admitted. Suddenly the sketches seemed a bit stalker-ish. 'What's the matter with me?' He put the book into the back pouch on his belt so it was disguised by his shell.

The sky continued to darken, and the breeze picked up. He didn't mind the rain, but he disliked storms. When he was a child, Mikey would go running to Raph and ask him to 'protect him from the scary sounds!' Mike smiled to himself, and then frowned.

He missed his brother. Not that he didn't miss Leo and Don, but Raphael was his best friend. Whenever he wanted to do something, Raph would be right there. If he ever needed a partner in crime to prank Leo, it was him; If he went down in a fight, Raph was the first one there to make sure he was ok. The two of them where like opposite sides of the same coin, really. He the prankster with the agile feet and fast mouth; Raph with his hot-headed rage and juggernaut like strength. He'd spoken to Leo, and seen Don, but the one time he'd talked to Raph was the first time he'd called April and he'd threatened to show up and kick Mikey's shell.

Mike felt a light touch of fear grip his belly. He was glad he'd done this, met her and learned, but... God, he wouldn't ever be able to go home if all of this had made Raphael hate him. Leonardo would react to his homecoming with lectures: a couple hours worth every day for at least a month; Donny with passive-aggressive coldness that he'd only be able to keep up for about a week, (if only because it took too much effort to stay angry, at least that's what Don had said in the past...) but Raph?

If he decided to hate firmly enough... well, then it could last a lifetime.

And if that happened, he would leave home for good.

Mikey pulled out the disposable cell phone from his belt, and flipped it open. He looked at the screen, and typed in a number, then contemplated hitting 'call'.

A special shout-out to Pistachio lover; Whose writings have delved into the complex and powerful bond between Mikey and Raph! My thanks for making me dig more deeply into how losing his best friend would affect Raphael.

And for making me cry when I read one of your stories: That doesn't happen often, so that story is going into my favorites!