Always your Angel
Raphael opened his eyes and stared blankly up at the ceiling, bemused to find himself in the lair, much less his own bed. Hadn't he been somewhere else? Wasn't there fighting? He couldn't recall how he had gotten here.
It didn't matter. All that mattered was he was home, the danger was over and he was lying next to his angel. The scent of her filled the room and he reached across the bed to pull her nearer, craving her warm body against his. He frowned when his hand encountered nothing but empty space.
It's late, she should be in bed.
She needed her rest after such a long day, but perhaps nature called. A small smirk lit his face as he remembered the last time he found her in the hall at night, unable to make the trek to the bathroom on her own.
The smile made his face ache and he raised a hand to it, confused as to why it hurt. Tender bruises met his exploring fingers, a split lip, and crispy skin. His cheeks burned when he touched them. Flinching back, desire exploded within him. He needed Morgan, this instant.
Ah, the Trickster said this would happen. If one of us is injured the relationship becomes... intensely physical. It shouldn't be a problem. She likes my type of physical.
He rolled to the side and threw his legs out of bed, preparing to find his love, wherever she might be, and bring her back to their room. But when he moved, he groaned. His whole body ached.
A little more aware, he took stock of himself. Bandages wrapped his arms from shoulder to elbow, his torso hurt like he'd been hit with a steel beam and a long shallow cut ran down one thigh. He grunted as he forced himself to his feet.
Musta been one hell of a fight. Too bad the healing thing don't work both ways.
Still, he would enjoy letting Morgan try to trigger the process. With another smile, he limped to the door.
"How long do you think he'll be out?"
Leonardo's subdued voice was gravelly with grief as he laid a hand on Donatello's shoulder. The genius started at the touch, looking up with bright red-rimmed eyes from the lab computer screen.
Though he'd been staring at it for almost an hour, Don was so distraught his brain had shut down. He couldn't have said what the report was about to save his life. His face was wet and he paused to scrub at it before he spoke, using the distraction to get his scattered thoughts in order.
"A while, I hope," he said, his voice as tired and torn from weeping as his brother's. "Raph's face and arms were burned in the explosion. He's bruised and the electricity messed with his nervous system. He was twitching a lot the last time I checked on him. It's preferable if he stays unconscious so his body can recover."
Better if he doesn't know she's gone.
The words remained unspoken, but they were both thinking the same thing.
"And Michelangelo?" Leo asked. "How is he doing?"
Donnie's gaze flicked to the cot behind him where the youngest turtle lay sleeping.
"He'll be ok. The charge they used on him was less than what they jabbed Raph with. He went down quick, but he'll be up after a few days rest."
"And you?"
The quiet inquiry started the gentle genius crying again. Tears gathered in his eyes and slowly slipped down his cheeks.
"I'm not sure," Donnie said, voice breaking. "How could we let this happen?"
"It is easy to find fault within oneself when tragedy strikes," Master Splinter said from the door. His own eyes were damp, his ears pressed flat to his skull. "But there are things which occur that are beyond all control."
"We shouldn't have let her come," Don said with a sob. "I - I should have done more investigating. I might have uncovered that bitch's true nature."
Leonardo leaned over and embraced his brother, trying to lend him strength.
"We cannot change the past, my sons," Splinter said, crossing to them. He rested a gentle paw on Donatello's head and another on Leonardo's arm. "Blame, guilt, and shame will not return the one we have loved and lost."
Leo's tears joined his brother's and he turned his head into Splinter's shoulder, seeking some comfort of his own. In the darkness behind his lids, Morgan smiled, teasing him gently. "She was remarkable," he whispered. "So brave and determined to do what was right."
"Strong," Donnie said. "And so kind. She suffered so much, yet still had a tender heart."
"I don't know how we're going to break the news to her brother," Leo said, drawing away and shaking his head. "If he takes it wrong, he will be a dangerous enemy."
"You should be more worried about how we're going to tell Raph," Don said with a moan.
"Tell me what?"
Donatello's eyes snapped up to the door where Raphael was leaning on the frame, favoring his side. He'd tied on a mask but otherwise left off his gear and was looking much the worse for wear. He shouldn't even be able to stand, much less already be out of bed.
Raph's eyes were fogged with pain, but his gaze swept over the gathered knot of his family, noted their tears, then darted past them to his fallen sibling in the cot.
"Mikey?" His voice faltered and he paled. "Is - Is he-"
"Your brother will be fine," Splinter said, crossing to him and helping him to a seat by Donatello.
Raph sagged into his father's support with relief, then sank into the chair.
"Geez, don't do that to a fella," he said, "I come down here and you're all cryin'. Of course I'm gonna think something's wrong."
His eyes narrowed as he once again searched their faces. A hint of Morgan's scent blew through the room from behind him and she stroked the back of his head in a light caress.
So, this is where she's been hidin'. Shoulda known she'd be here with Mikey in such a state.
He closed his eyes briefly, leaning into her, relaxing with a sigh before opening them again.
"So, what's the big problem?"
Nothing he could call to mind would warrant Leonardo's tears unless perhaps Karai had gone down in the fight. But he didn't remember seeing the black haired kunoichi.
No one answered him.
Donatello's face twisted, eyes shut tight. It looked like his little brother was about to be sick. That was saying something since the genius was known for dealing with blood, guts, and bone without batting an eye. Or wading through a ton of sewage for a piece of junk only he thought was valuable.
What could possibly be so bad?
"Leo?" He said, looking to his older brother in concern.
His usually calm, confident sibling turned his head away, tears running again from under his mask. Raph began to get angry. A little spark of fear formed in his chest as his father knelt in front of his chair and took both his hands.
Morgan's tiny palms, resting lightly on his shoulders, were the only things keeping him seated.
"Is it April?" He guessed with a gasp. "Was she hurt bad? I have ta see Casey. He'll need me. Maybe we should put him up here until she's better, yeah?"
His father blinked in surprise and sorrow flashed across his eyes.
Raphael moaned, fearing the worst.
"She's dead?"
All his breath left him in a rush. It was one of their greatest fears come to life. He remembered her dashing into the battle last night, trying to come to Morgan's rescue, Casey at her side waving his sticks like a madman. As much as losing her hurt Raph, Case would be destroyed. They'd only been married a few years, but his friend's life revolved around the spunky red-head.
Morgan was probably devastated, the girls had become so close over the past few weeks.
I hope she don't blame herself.
Freeing one hand from his father's grasp, he reached over his shoulder to take her arm in comfort, but she'd already released him, seeking solitude in the corner. He didn't turn. He didn't need to see her to know she was upset. He could feel her sorrow radiating across the room.
"How'd it happen?" He asked.
Knowing the details wouldn't make it better, but it would let him know who to kill. Their long time friend and companion deserved at least that much justice. Again silence fell and Splinter remained frozen in his kneeling position.
He's known April as long as the rest of us. What's it been, ten, twelve years? It's hitting him hard as well.
Tears stung at his eyes as Raphael leaned down to hug his father, his huge arms enveloping the smaller rat gently. Splinter returned his embrace, holding tight for a moment before drawing back with a sorrowful sigh.
"My son," Splinter said in a choked voice. He paused to swallow before speaking again, this time, more firmly. "My son. April is whole and at home with your friend."
Raphael blinked, confused, but his master continued to stare into his eyes. The fear returned to his chest, growing into a massive black hole, sucking at his heart.
"There is no easy way to break such news," his father said, laying his ears back in sorrow.
"The one we are mourning is Morgan."
The screaming had been going on for hours.
Leonardo secretly wished his brother's voice would go, leaving them all a little peace to grieve. But that was a terrible, selfish desire for it had taken all of them to convince Raphael that she was gone.
At first, Raph flatly denied it, protesting she was still here, even in the room. As his frantic eyes scanned the space, he insisted they were mistaken. He launched himself from the chair, searching the lair twice over, calling out to her repeatedly.
Leonardo cornered him in the living room, trying to make him sit and cease his agitated search before he hurt himself any worse than he already was.
"You don't know she's gone!" Raphael shouted. "She can disappear, remember? Morgan! This ain't funny, come out!"
"I know she could," Leo said soothingly, "but-"
"Can, CAN! She ain't dead. Don't speak of her in the past tense! Angel! Where are you?"
He tried to push by his brother to the main door.
"She must have gone out. Donnie check the cameras! She could be lost out there."
When Donatello didn't move, Raph snarled and sprang at him, but his father stepped in between them, stopping him cold with a reproving glare.
"RAPHAEL! Please try to collect yourself," Splinter said, "Your mate would not thank you for inflicting further injury on your person or your family."
"My mate would not..." Raph trailed off, eyes wide in disbelief, then he exploded. "MY MATE IS OUT THERE SOMEWHERE! Maybe lost in her own mind. I'm not going to sit here and-"
"Yes," Splinter raised his voice, "you are. Donatello, bring the recording."
A grief-stricken Donnie retreated to his lab, returning swiftly with a tablet. The scenes from the four cameras he'd placed last night queued up. Raphael only had eyes for one. The frame where Morgan was crossing methodically into view.
As the scene unfolded, memories came flowing back. The sudden warm presence of her aura touching his, the flow of emotions, a moment of betrayal. He watched with rapt attention, seeing things he hadn't been able to while he was fighting.
Morgan's image screamed while his body shuddered at the remembered shock from the prod.
Samantha tackled her to the dirt and they rolled, gouging up the earth as they engaged in a fierce battle all their own. Morgan twisted, kicked Sam off, and ran, retreating to a more defensible position. On the way, a Purple Dragon snatched at her, catching her coat. She wiggled out of it, still fleeing.
She located a long piece of rebar and crouched in front of a concrete pier holding it defensively before her. For almost five minutes she was left alone, throwing chunks of debris at the combatants around her and swinging her improvised weapon at anyone who came too near.
He remembered the next hit, the one to the soldier who fell at her feet like a stunned ox. Samantha reappeared, grabbing Morgan in a choke hold and dragging her behind the column. He knew what was coming and his heart clenched as a small black object sailed into view.
"Grenade," he said flatly.
The image went white and jerked wildly. For a few seconds, there was nothing but smoke covering the area. As it began to dissipate, he saw Leo diving toward his own unmoving, scorched form, falling to his knees, searching for a pulse. Donnie entered the frame and helped his brother drag him out of view.
But Raphael didn't care, couldn't tear his eyes away from the pile of rubble that moments before had been a support of concrete and steel. For the tiny body of his love, his angel, lay half buried in the debris. A graceful arm in a black sleeve with a slim hand reached forth in mute appeal. Curly hair fluttered under a ton of pulverized gravel.
"It can't be," Raphael said, gasping for breath as the air thinned around him.
He clutched at the tablet. His head spun. He struggled to enlarge the scene, seeking proof this was all some sick joke. This still form wasn't Morgan. It couldn't be. His desperate eyes fastened on her wrist. There, glimmering under the edge of her dark shirt was the bracelet he fashioned for her only the day before when she'd needed something to hold the speaking stone.
The device dropped from his numb fingers.
Colors drained away from his sight, leaving him staring at ashes.
His whole body shook and he began to scream.
Leonardo ran, pushing himself hard.
Faster.
He couldn't sit still while his family was falling apart with grief. He wanted to be able to console them with something.
He rapidly left the tunnels behind and climbed to the rooftops, vaulting the gaps between buildings as he raced toward his goal. Raphael was in no shape to pursue vengeance, but it was way past time this was resolved.
He cleared alleyways of twenty feet. Thirty. Forty.
Farther.
Yet no matter how fast or how far he traveled, he could not escape the guilt.
I failed as a leader... and a brother.
Not only had the mission collapsed into chaos, but they had lost their most vulnerable family member.
And we may lose Raph as well.
Finishing his objective tonight would not help. Nothing could bring Morgan back.
But I WILL eliminate the murderer.
His goal came quickly into sight. A small office building several blocks from Vallen's main headquarters. Leonardo locked down his mind, freezing his emotions as he focused all his attention on the situation at hand.
There, the sixth floor.
A light was still on. He could see someone moving about. His eyes narrowed as he assessed their motions, ignoring the sting of tears which still fell. The ones no technique he knew would stop.
It was a matter of seconds to jimmy the lock on the rooftop door. Mere minutes to make his way to the office in question. The late night worker was a woman and he stalked her silently as she moved from room to room, shutting off the lights, preparing to leave.
Now was his moment to strike.
The impeccably dressed blonde was pinned to the desk in the dark before she even knew he was there, his large hand clamped over her mouth, a knife at her throat.
"Do exactly as I ask," he said in a lethal whisper, "and I will let you go. Test me and you will regret it."
At her frightened nod, he removed his hand. She couldn't stop staring at his face, but she didn't seem truly surprised by his appearance. The secretary may never have expected to meet him, but she knew who he was.
"You work for Charles Hargrove," he said. It wasn't a question, but the scared woman nodded anyway. "Where is he?"
For a moment he thought she wasn't going to answer. The blonde shook in his hold, but eventually she turned and pointed to the Vallen highrise- just visible from the office window. Finally, she found her voice.
"He's in one of the guest suites. The- the Shred-," she cut herself off, "Mr. Saki was displeased with the way he handled the... events of this evening. I- I- They told me he'd be there until he answered some questions. Probably a couple of days."
Damn. There's no way I'm getting in there to kill him without a full team.
Something else she said caught his attention. A harsh gleam lit his eyes and twisted his lip.
"How do you know the Shredder?"
"I- I don't," the woman gasped as he shifted his grip to her throat. "Karai! Karai is my contact!"
She wasn't there tonight, but the Foot were. She must have known...
"Call her."
Leonardo stood waiting, feet braced apart, head lowered. Deliberately exposing himself in the moonlight on top of the office building. A drawn katana, balanced point down in front of him.
It was time, long past time, he ended this ridiculous farce of a relationship. The struggle they had, the give and take, excited him once. Now, after seeing his brother's love, experiencing how deep and pure the emotion could be, it just felt like he was being used.
Luckily the kunoichi did not keep him waiting long. The moment she appeared, his anger overflowed and he spun on her without a second thought. She barely drew a knife in time to deflect the unexpected sword as he swung at her.
"Leo!" Karai protested, grunting as she deflected another full force attack.
She ducked under his blade, rolled to the side and pulled her own katana. For a few short minutes, they clashed, neither finding an advantage over the other.
"Leonardo!" She yelled over the noise. "What is your problem?"
"You!" He shot back, lip twisted in rage. "You and your whole clan. You pretend to understand honor. You tempt me to trust you with helpful little insights, but it's all a lie. You care nothing for me or the innocent people you hurt."
"Leo," his tirade caught her off guard and she paused, only now noting the tears he could not control. Lowering her weapon, she reached a hand toward him, palm out. "What happened?"
He swung at her again, but she did nothing to defend herself. She stood stock still and at the last second he screamed, pulling up short.
The sword halted a hairsbreadth from her face.
She blinked at him calmly, ignoring the blade as he froze threateningly in his stance.
"Tell me," she said.
"You knew," he snarled. "You had to have known. No group of Foot that large would have engaged without your authority as second in command."
"How large? Where?"
He barked a laugh.
"Don't play dumb. It doesn't suit you. Over two hundred of your men tried to take us down in an ambush tonight when we went to save Morgan's friend. The dishonorable cowards used electrical prods and explosives. An innocent woman was killed."
She flinched again, startled, and he began to feel a little less sure of himself.
"I authorized a party of thirty to coordinate with Hargrove tonight in an exchange with the FBI," she said. "Your team has taken that number successfully before. And I certainly didn't approve explosives!"
"No one under you would dare countermand such orders," Leo said with venom. "So you wanna try to lie to me again?"
"Someone over me might," she snapped. "This friend, she was the innocent?"
"No. And if she's not dead, she better pray I never find her."
"Ah, so she was the traitor I warned of after all. So the victim was..."
"My sister."
He watched her eyes as the wheels turned in her head, trying to understand what he was saying. Horror rose in her gaze.
"Morgan?"
Her shocked exclamation and the look in her eyes shook him. Karai hadn't known. She truly hadn't. Without a target to focus on, all his anger drained away. Leaving him filled with grief. He sheathed his sword, movements automatic, and stepped away.
"I thought my warning would be enough," she said with a sigh. "I only met her once, but there was something unique about her, a quiet draw that affected even me."
She tilted her head curiously in Leo's direction.
"You claim her as family? Does that mean she and Raph were- No, nevermind. I don't want to know. What I don't know, I don't have to hide from him."
"Why do you do it, Karai?" Leo asked in a hollow voice. "Why do you stay?"
"Because the Foot clan once had honor, and with the right leadership, it might again."
"Your ambition is going to get you killed."
She lowered her eyes.
"Everything has a price."
He snorted.
"Some are too high."
Donatello paused, glancing up at the door as Leonardo entered his lab. He smiled wanly, happy his older brother had come to his senses and returned home after his night away. He hadn't asked where Leo had gone, and the leader hadn't volunteered any information, but they needed his strength and focus here if they were going to get through this.
Don resumed packing the duffel in front of him, checking to make sure he had everything he would need: A headset; his microscanning heat-vision goggles; some miscellaneous sundries; and... a body bag.
He zipped the carryall and threw it crossways over his shoulder before sliding his bo into place.
"You sure you want to go tonight, Donnie?" Leo asked.
The genius nodded.
"It's been two days. If I leave it any longer, they'll start the autopsy and I..." His eyes shimmered, but he hardened his heart. "I have to go now."
"I could come with you," Leonardo offered. "You don't have to face this alone. Father's watching over Raphael."
Don shook his head.
"He'll want your muscle if Raph needs sedating again. Besides, Mikey will be up soon and he's going to take the news hard. He looks to you, Leo. You should stay and comfort him."
Leonardo nodded and gripped Don's shoulder, still worried. The genius looked fragile, his chocolate eyes almost black with sorrow as he tightened his violet bandana and prepared to leave. Leo wanted to tell him not to go, but he couldn't shield his brother from this heartbreak.
"Bring her back to us," he said instead. "We'll make sure she gets a decent burial where we can visit her safely. Somewhere we can all mourn."
Donnie nodded, not bothering to mention his own reason for wanting to recover Morgan's body from the morgue. He knew what would happen the moment someone discovered how different she was. He couldn't stand the thought of some Medical Examiner dissecting her for scientific experimentation.
She deserves to rest in peace.
"I'll get the bracelet too," he said. "Brenellean needs to know what happened and Splinter thinks he can still make it work."
"Be careful," his brother said in parting. "I'll tell Sensei you're going."
Michelangelo pried his eyes open. It was difficult as the lids were stuck together with salt and grit, but eventually, he could see though even the dim light made his head throb.
Shit, I hurt. My head hurts, my body hurts... Even my mask hurts.
He turned his head, bleary gaze taking in the mismatched tables, overstuffed shelves, and the prevalence of chemistry equipment.
Huh. Don's lab. Musta really been bad if he didn't put me to bed. Wonder how long I've been out?
He'd felt like this once before when a young girl freaked because he tarried too long after a rescue and tasered him.
I hate electricity.
Unless it's powering my games. Or cooking my food. Or providing light, or heat. Ok, I guess it has it's moments. But I wish the Foot would stop using it.
At the thought of the Foot, his mind stalled.
Shit! Morgan! They were crawling all over that warehouse. Did we get her out?
He swung his legs out of bed, no longer caring about the deep ache in his muscles as concern for his family, and his li'l sis, drove him forth. A quick glance cleared the lab.
No Donnie. Odd.
He shuffled to the door and leaned on the frame heavily, peering out in the living room. It was silent. Deadly quiet and dark. No sparring came from the dojo, no chanting from the meditation room. Even the sound from the TV was muted though the screen flickered- showing the evening news. The sliding door to Splinter's quarters was open but their master was nowhere in sight.
Fear slithered down his spine.
Did the Foot get them all?
For a moment, he stood shaking but logical thought prevailed. Somebody had to have brought him home.
"Hey!" he called into the open space. "Anyone alive out there?"
It was supposed to be funny, but as soon as he said it his stomach flipped.
What if some of them aren't? OK, chill. Be positive, dude. You don't know anything.
Taking a deep breath, he shoved away from the door and made his way shakily to the sofa. No one was in the kitchen and as his eyes flicked around, they landed again on the television screen.
A male reporter was recapping the fight, a tiny square over his shoulder showing some panning footage of the aftermath.
Reaching over the back of the couch for the remote, Mikey un-muted the sound.
"Still no word on the identities of the majority of the dead, in what police are calling an all out war on the lower east side. It happened just two nights ago in the ruins of an abandoned warehouse slated for demolition later this month. Authorities believe it may have been two rival gangs fighting over turf, but as many fled the scene it has been hard to piece together the whole story."
That tiny square expanded to fill the screen and memories flashed through Mikey's mind as he saw the terrain. Leo yelling something over the headset, Morgan stopping in the middle of the exchange and screaming. He reached for his grapple to go to her, then...
Nada. Must have been when they hit me with the juice.
The carnage on screen was awful. His family had obviously fought hard. But weirdly the Dragons and the Foot had battled each other as well, because not all the damage was from his brothers' weapons. Some of fallen were shot, and there was a huge, black hole in the center of the field.
Some idiot used explosives?
The reporter continued to speak over the scene as it zoomed in close on the devastation left in the crater. Piles of rubble, singed timbers, and melted, bent metal- all spattered in blood.
"Forty-six have been confirmed dead and ten remain in critical condition at local hospitals. Many of the deceased were identified by police as members of the notorious Purple Dragon organization which has plagued our city for years. Others were of no previously known group, but their identical clothing and masks suggest they may have been forming a gang of their own.
Also among the dead was a single civilian who, detectives say, was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It will be hard to identify the young woman as she carried no ID and the explosion you see here caused a great deal of destruction to her features.
She is described as a petite, white woman in her late twenties with reddish-brown curly hair, wearing an unusual bracelet. A plain gold band inset with a pale white stone and a unique inscription. If you know this woman or recognize the bracelet, please contact the coroner's office at 555-456-0934."
Oh my god. OH MY GOD! It can't be.
Mikey's finger frantically stabbed the remote and he backed up the footage and replayed the description.
"a petite, white woman in her late twenties with reddish-brown curly hair..."
"Sis," he moaned.
Michelangelo's knees began to shake and his stomach rebelled. He turned and vomited bile all over the floor, wishing he could reject the bloody pictures and everything they stood for.
I failed her. I was her bodyguard. Hell, I'm her big brother! I was supposed to watch out for her!
As he righted himself, Leonardo was coming down the stairs. Mikey locked horror filled eyes with his brother's steely blue-greys, begging him without words to refute this unthinkable turn of events.
Leo drew closer, glanced at the TV and blanched, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," he said.
The leader's voice was no longer calm and steadfast, but weary and resigned. So full of sorrow and regret, Mikey could not doubt the truth. Tears welled up and overflowed as he lurched forward into Leonardo's arms.
My sister. My precious little sister is gone.
Donatello stood silently in the middle of the morgue, surrounded by cold, impersonal stainless steel and frowned at it in distaste. This wasn't the right place for her. She hated medical facilities and the smell of disinfectant. Morgan deserved to be embraced by nature, covered with flowers and green, vibrant life.
He found a computer in the corner and bypassed the login, searching for her. His large hands skimming the keys. According to this, her possessions were secured in a storage box on the wall. He traced the number and fastened his electronic lockpick to the door. It swung open in seconds. Swiftly, he checked the evidence bag for the bracelet. It tumbled out into his hand and Raphael's inscription caught the light.
'Never alone, always my Angel.'
Donnie bit his lip to stop the tears, shoving it roughly back in the envelope before tucking the entire contents into his duffel. That accomplished, he turned and drew out the body bag. Zipping it open, he laid it over one of the empty stainless tables nearby.
He paused in front of the large refrigerated drawers and swallowed hard. This was going to be the toughest part, seeing her lifeless body up close and in person. On the field, he'd been too busy trying to carry Raph back to the Battle Shell to take more than a quick sorrowful glance. But now he would have to look her in the face and handle her cold, stiff corpse.
He steeled himself for a flood of pain and slid the drawer open.
Despite the preparation, he gagged and quickly turned his face away. Tears threatening again. Too many bodies were involved in the fight. The coroner hadn't had time to do more than strip her clothes and put her on ice, for she was still coated in grey concrete dust. And he didn't need to examine her too closely to determine the cause of death.
If the blast hadn't killed her outright, the heavy stone finished the job, crushing the life from her. Her skull was destroyed, the once beautiful face unrecognizable. In fact, most of her bones were fractured; arm, legs, and feet all shattered. If he left her, they would have a hard time identifying the body. Dental records wouldn't be much use, nor would fingerprints, for both her hands were charred.
Tears running down his cheeks, he scooped her off the cold metal drawer and carried her carefully to the table nearby. But tucking her inside the bag was not an easy task to accomplish by himself. He turned her slightly and caught a glimpse of something odd underneath. Curiosity was a trait ingrained in Donatello's very nature. He could no more ignore it than he could fly. Even in these tragic surroundings, overcome by grief, he had to pursue it.
Laying her on her stomach, he clicked on the powerful spotlight suspended overhead.
"Mmm..."
Raphael twisted restlessly to his side and smiled as a tiny hand brushed across his brow, dancing over his features, checking to see if he was awake. Warm, sweet breath caressed his face.
"It's time to get up, love," her rich voice said, a throaty whisper he found impossible to resist.
"Let's just stay here," he murmured.
Reaching sleepily for her, he pulled her close and shoved his face into her hair, inhaling her heady aroma as soft arms closed around him. The desire he barely held in check flared to life.
"We need to talk," she said.
"It can wait," he said with a mock growl, "I want you."
"I want you too," she said, then she sighed, relaxing a moment in his embrace. "I can't wait to really be in your arms again."
Confused, he pulled her a bit closer.
"These arms ain't real enough for ya?" He asked. "How about this?"
He leaned down and kissed her lips, long and hot, passionately. She groaned into his mouth, entwined her arms around his neck and held on tight. For several minutes, they were lost in bliss as he stroked her hair and kissed her until she panted for breath.
Abruptly she tensed and pulled away.
"Raphael, I can't stay. It's not safe to sleep."
"Who said anything about sleep? Besides, I'll pummel anyone who tries to bother us."
She sat up, straddling his midsection as he rolled to his shell and raised each of his hands to her mouth, kissing the outsides lightly.
"That's my hot-head," she chuckled, "always thinking with his fists."
"I'll be thinkin' with somethin' else if ya keep that up," he said with a smirk.
He cracked his lids to see her smile, wanting a glimpse of her gorgeous sunrise which put the real one to shame, but the room was dark and he couldn't make her out, even though she was so close.
Suddenly afraid, he closed his eyes tight and reached for her again, but her weight was gone, the sheets were cold, and her scent was fading.
"Stop!" she cried. "I haven't told him, I'm still here!"
Deep inside, his soul pulsed as she waned; a ghost in the shadows stealing away with everything he held dear.
"Morgan!" He begged as she ripped his soul apart. "Don't leave me!"
But she was already gone. Only a tiny echo lingered in the dark, whispering to his heart.
"Always your Angel."
"Six years. Six YEARS of work down the drain," Charlie railed, his angry voice filling the Shredder's audience chamber. "I HAD her. She was walking right into my hands-"
"YOU walked right into their trap," Shredder said cutting him off. "The entire Hamato clan were lying in wait. Even that fool Splinter came out of his lair! Did you think you could lure her back so easily? If I hadn't increased the number of Foot soldiers Karai requested, you wouldn't have survived the skirmish."
"Skirmish? You lost thirty-five men! The Dragons lost twenty! That's more like a war. And where was the much-vaunted kunoichi?"
"She was assigned another task. And such losses are to be expected when dealing with these enemies," Shredder said with disdain. "They are implacable and unforgiving. Now, they will come for you. I suggest you run. Fast and far, for I will no longer protect you."
"Morgan's death wasn't my fault! Who authorized explosives at this little meet and greet? I certainly didn't," Charlie said with a snarl. He clenched his fist. "She was worth millions."
"Somehow, I doubt the turtles will give you an opportunity to spout your excuses," Shredder said with dry humor. "But you can try. As a consolation, I will return your company. If you survive long enough to get home, I might even consider investing in the girl's successor. Now go. Your incessant whining bores me."
With a flourish of his cape, the Shredder disappeared into the darkness behind his throne, leaving an open-mouthed Charlie gaping. Reluctantly, he headed for the door and exited the building, the picture of defeat.
He climbed into his limousine, head hanging. He closed the door.
A smiling Julia, in a short black cocktail dress, handed him a flute of ice-cold champagne.
"Saki is convinced," Charlie said, straightening from his slump to take the beverage.
"So are the 'turtles'," she said. "As you predicted, one came to the office." She shuddered. "He was... unbelievable."
Hargrove gave her a satisfied smile, disregarding her remark. His mind already wholly consumed with the evening to come.
"Now..." he said, voice filled with glee, "take me to her."