ALLI

How did she make Anton understand? And Yuuta? Why couldn't she get anyone to understand? Alli stretched out on the bench, staring up at the steady-burning tiny purple lights she and Anton had woven around the arbor. When the wisteria bloomed the little bulbs glowed against the flowers and they seemed magical, like lanterns or something. But it was fall and the fading green was all that remained of her favorite plant. In the gaps between the wilting leaves shone ribbons of gold, heatless early morning rays. The sky beyond that was a lightening shade of blue. There was no breeze, which would make for a stagnant autumn day. Fine by her. As long as the bugs weren't biting. And they hadn't last night. So, whatever.

The timer made a tiny click and the lights shut off. She shivered, rolled to her side. Leaning her back against the bench rail, she tucked one arm under her head for a pillow. Her body ached. Her cheek throbbed, one eye near shut. She couldn't go home like this. Couldn't explain it. She held out a hand before her good eye. It wasn't that bad, only twelve pounds. No one had even noticed. Of course, she'd done everything she knew to keep it hidden. Baggy shirts, sweatpants, hoodies…

The elevator doors opened and shut. If it weren't for the roll of gears and the scent that accompanied him, patchouli with underlying hints of cedar she might never have known he was there. Silent as he was. It was rare that he even carried a scent. Maybe he was wearing one of his dad's shirts again. She inhaled deep, tried not to flex any of the muscles in her face, keenly aware of the tenderness beneath the puffy flesh. A lump rose to her throat as she lowered her head more so her hair covered her face.

"Al?" His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. Knelt beside her. She sensed the energy, the spark that always accompanied him, radiating into her as his hand hovered above her covered face. "Al? Hey- Little Bird." His voice sounded so thick, almost pained as he guided her hair away.

The gasp, his sharp inhale, sent a jolt through her. "Al? Alli!"

How she hated his worry as much as his pain, especially when she might be the cause of it. And she had been. Often. No! I'm fine. I am! She sucked in a breath, and jerked upright. Too fast. Spots formed before her, a blur of green giving way to the black. Her stomach bottomed out and her head rocked back. His hand was there, catching her the way he always did. Even when he swore it was the last time. When he couldn't do it anymore. He always came.

Always.

She was so tired as she left her head rest in his palm. He eased her up, became her pillow, sat in silence a long while. His skin was smoother than her dad's, scarred but much less so. Warmer in its own too, rather than warmed by her. Mutants were different than hybrids in some ways, yet in others the same. Though Antonello was far more like his dad than he'd ever care to admit. Not that there was any shame in being like any of her uncles, each virtuous in their own right.

Alli let her weight rest firm against Anton's side, aware of the bony edges of his shell, shifted just so, so they wouldn't press uncomfortably against her. He'd held her so many times he knew just how to sit, how to position his body to make her comfortable. Her heart swelled. Not like Spot, who didn't have a clue what to do with her. Who made her feel like an experiment or a trophy to flaunt. Who hadn't wanted to stay at home last night at all. Was actually glad when the boys left…

She wiped her eyes in haste, didn't want them red and puffy when she faced Spot. How would she explain them, her tears? How could she explain that Anton's hurt was hers, even when she was the cause? He'd never understand. She glanced toward the door, Yuuta had just pulled shut. Anton ahead of him.

"Well they left in a hurry." Spot came to stand behind her, towering over her in a familiar shadow—yet not; close in shape yet far away in every other aspect. Her lip quivered and she trapped it between her teeth. Anton couldn't mean those things he said. He just couldn't. Her fingers curled into her palms. He couldn't leave her. A fresh lump rose to her throat, her eyes stinging and hot. He couldn't, and yet it seemed he just had.

"Allison? Hey, if they're gone, it's still early. What say we head down to Marco's? If we hurry he can still get you on and I sure could use the extra cash." His thick hand cupped her by the neck as he pressed his plastron to her back. Firm. But not soft, not from the center of him, not where Anton was.

Her thoughts flickered to Marco's. To the stage. To the shame. And the tears clung to her lashes, blurred her vision.

Spot released her, smacked her hard on the butt. "Go on. Put your shoes on, grab your bag and let's go."

Her butt-cheek stung as she tugged on her sneakers, but she didn't cry out. He'd complained before, about her non-reactions, said she was too hard. He'd never met a girl who didn't whine, never met one like her. It wasn't a big deal. Not after the life she'd lived. Not after the training she'd undergone. A swat on the butt was nothing. At first, she'd been flattered by Spot's reaction. At last, she was tough and someone noticed! Then she met Marco.

Exhaling a breath, she paused on her way by the kitchen. A familiar black phone where Anton had sat. As her fingers closed over the device she heard Spot talking. "Yeah, yeah, we'll be there in ten minutes. Can you get her a slot? Yep. We'll take it. Great. Thanks, Jimmy."

Her stomach turned. If her family knew. If they knew. Her cheeks rushed hot. They'd be so ashamed.

"What're you doing standing around? Get your bag so we can go. Jimmy got you a slot, you're on in five. We've got to go!" Spot's fingers closed around her bicep, his grasp firm as he guided her down the hall to his room.

She stood, numb, holding Anton's phone, in the center of Spot's room. Tugging a black bag from beneath his bed, he unzipped it, looked inside, shut it and stood. "Looks good. Let's go."

He walked right by her, one hand out and around her arm again, guiding her down the hall, out the front door. Her fingers closed tighter around Anton's phone. It would be nothing for her to stop Spot. To get his hand off her was simple, two movements. One spotted turtle down. As quick as a breath. But she didn't. Didn't care enough to stop him.

Too empty inside. Missing pieces. Something precious drifting, drifting away. And her, with no way to stop time, allowed herself to float out to sea and follow the tide. It carried her straight to Spot. And Spot had taken her straight to Marco.

Spot knocked on the backdoor, in an alley that had given her flashbacks the first time she'd been in it. Of a time when she was very little and the robot-man had stolen her and her mom. Of a time when her dad had saved her. What would he think now? She blinked as Jimmy, an opossum mutant opened the backdoor.

He had terrifying red eyes that she tried hard not to look in. "She ain't even dressed yet? Man, you'd better hurry or Marco's gonna lose it."

The other girls were clamoring backstage, some naked, some in lingerie. Eva, the white bunny hybrid leaned over a tray with a long white line of powder. It disappeared as she inhaled. Alli swallowed, her stomach twisting as she moved closer to Spot.

"Spot!" Came a booming voice.

Alli inched behind him, peeking under Spot's arm as he lifted it to wave at Marco. The enormous pig mutant in a business suit waddled toward them. The sweaty pink pig's brown eyes darted down to Alli then back to Spot as he offered a cloven hand to her date. "Heard you brought Cherry back. You two ready to try again? Did she lose that weight?"

"Yeah, yeah she did. Ten pounds, just like you said. She looks real good. Put her on, the tips will speak for themselves." Spot reached down grabbed Alli's hand and tugged her forward so she was in front of him. "Go on get dressed, babe. Let Marco see. Show him how good you look. You got all these girls beat."

He thrust the duffle bag into her chest. Alli was frozen. Her body stiff like she was dead. Maybe she was. She didn't want on that stage. In front of all of those—drooling, groping—her stomach churned.

An angry voice boomed. "Well go on, get dressed!"

Alli startled. Her eyes shooting up to a scowling Spot, Marco grinning and greasy standing beside him.

How hard she'd fought, with herself, just to be alive. Just to live. For her family. For her mom and dad, brother and sister, Yuuta, and most of all Anton. For the one who never left her, not in her darkest moments. The sting against her backside jerked her to reality. Spot reached back to swat her again and gripping the duffle she made her way to an open space by the dressing table. There was nowhere to go to change. She swallowed hard, feeling both Spot and Marco's eyes on her as she stepped out of her sneakers, tugged off her baggy t-shirt and sweatpants. Shivering in her thong and bra she heard Jimmy's whistle.

"Man, she looks so good, I could lick that like a lollipop. Mmmmm. So, damn sweet."

Alli's eyes flickered up to Spot. Who was glowing with pride.

Marco waddled up to her and Alli backed into the counter as his eyes roved her body. "No need to change. You can go on, just like that." He reached out a hooved hand toward her breast, then everything happened in slow motion.

Her insides rushed hot, her lip curling as the edge of the table dug into her back. She couldn't get any farther away. His cloven hand came closer and her hand swiped down, smooth and straight blocking his forearm at the same time she yelled, "No!" her knee lifted, plunging into the crotch of his slacks.

The pig let out an, "Ooompf!" doubling over as Alli grabbed her clothes and made for the door. What was she doing? How did she get here? Why did it take so long to say that word? Why was it so damn hard? And then- he'd said she was fat. He'd pinched at the skin on her hip. He'd pointed to her thighs. Him! A three-hundred-pound pig had sent her spiraling all over again and for what? To impress the only turtle, she could find to fill her void?

She'd almost made it to the door. Past the sky-high bunny, and various other strippers, half naked, naked, or in lingerie waiting to go on. All gaping. But there was Jimmy, blocking her exit. His sharp teeth bared. Then there was the hand on her shoulder, spinning her around. She barely recognized Spot, the scowl, the bared teeth, angry dark eyes.

His hand lifted.

He wouldn't.

Anton would never.

But he wasn't Anton. Was he?

Spot's hand struck her across the cheek so hard her head spun, and her shoulder followed the rotation. Blinded, she stumbled forward, her foot hooking a chair leg. Off balance she flailed, her hands knocking bottles and bags of makeup onto the floor as her face slammed into the counter top.

Collapsing in a weeping, shaking heap on the floor she peered through her wounded eye at a furious Spot. "Well now that you've gone and fucked up your face you can just get the fuck out. We'll have to wait until that shit heals before we can try again." He flung the bag at her, lifted her by the arm and dragged her out into the street. "Go home. Call me after your face heals."

Behind him, Jimmy held the door open. Spot turned his shell on her, and slowly the light from inside was shut out.

Alli inhaled Anton's scent. She hadn't always been this way. Things hadn't always been like this. She'd scrapped on the playground, in the school, behind school, outside her family's pizza parlor. She'd defended bullied kids, been defended by the best, trained with the best.

She lifted a bony hand, and it was thin, she knew it. Curled wiry fingers around the cup of his arm. Closed wet eyes, because he was real, there and she could touch him. When she was in the darkest places of her life, he was there. Would always be, no matter what he said. And she knew that too.

"What's goin' on with you, Al?" His voice was frail, like it'd been scraped and dragged over a cheese grader.

Her chest was heavy. Breathing was hard.

"You were doin' great. An' I don' wanna seem jealous or nothin' but to look at ya and know what I do about this-" he choked, took a breath and swallowed. "disease, cas' at this point I think I know more than Uncle Don', but uh, Al-"

He stopped. Didn't even finish. Like he couldn't. And he probably couldn't. It wasn't the first time he'd tried to figure out what to say and couldn't get it all out. She lifted her head so she could see him with her good eye. Tears. How she hated his tears. Her own eyes stung.

His eyes darted down to her face. He looked at her injury, winced and looked away. "Did you pass out? Fall into somethin'?"

No.

She didn't answer. Lay back down, pressed the unwounded side of her face to his arm. "Don't go."

He inhaled. She didn't feel him exhale.

Seconds passed with neither of them moving.

Minutes.

He sniffled, turned his head toward the elevator doors.

And she clung to him. Her heart full and complete and loved. As long as he stayed. Just please say you'll stay.

Then he shifted. Guided her upright and knelt before her, his eyes, green and bright and wet, peering into her the way only he could. He frowned at her cheek, tucked her hair behind her ear and cleared his throat. His hands slid down to her biceps, fingers brushing the bruises Spot and Marco had left on her. She sucked in a breath then tried to hide behind a forced half-smile.

In that instant, Antonello's tears evaporated, his neck seeming to straighten on his shoulders. He pushed up the caps of her sleeves, knowing eyes studying her biceps. His jaw shifted as he released her. He was on his feet, straight and tall and silent as he pivoted, marching for the elevator doors.

Oh no. No. "Anton, wait! Stop! It's not what you think!" She stood, saw ink blots before her eyes. Gripping the arm of the bench she took breaths, waiting for her vision to clear. By the time she had herself sorted, he was gone.

DENIM

Zoe pointed a finger at Alli's kitchen table, then pointed to Andrea. "Sit." Then she pointed to Denim and a different chair. "Sit." Then she pointed to Yuuta and yet another chair. "Sit." Then she looked at Raph who was already sitting in the only remaining chair. She rolled her eyes and pointed to Michelangelo. "You stand by him."

"Are you arranging a family photo here or what, Z?" Raph groused.

"Shut it, Raphael. While we wait to hear something from Anton about Allison, Andrea here," she pointed to her daughter, "is going to tell us everything she knows about what Scout has gotten into."

Andrea crossed her arms and huffed. "How do you even know Anton is looking for Alli?"

Everyone looked at her.

It was a non-question, a distraction. Something Denim had learned the hard way that teens were really good at. Hamato teens were exceptionally gifted at getting you to look the wrong way while they tried to destroy themselves. Denim rubbed her face as she sank into the chair. "Andrea, while I'm very concerned for Alli, I have every confidence that your brother will never give up on her."

Drea snickered and Raph growled. "It ain't funny. What the hell's so funny?"

Before she could answer Zoe made eye contact with her daughter and gave a slight shake of her head.

Andrea's gaze dropped to the cup of her hands where she picked at her cuticles, but said nothing. She clearly knew something. Another thing Denim had learned about Hamato children, cracking them was no easy feat. That is, if you didn't know where to apply pressure—when and how. Denim was exhausted. It had been a long, touch and go night of unanswered questions while her youngest daughter struggled. She wasn't sure if she hadn't put herself through that hell, or if someone had done it to her, but between the knife wound and the drugs, and now Alli potentially off the wagon, well she'd had enough. She leaned across the table, placed a hand over Andrea's.

The porcelain skinned, silver-blue eyed girl looked at her.

"Scout was really, really sick last night, Andrea. And someone cut her with a knife. So, if you know where she might go, that something like that could happen, you don't have to tell me anything more than the name of a place. I can take it from there."

Before Andrea could open her mouth, the front door flew open, slamming against the doorstop as a tear-stricken, bruise-faced, too-thin Allison screamed, "Anton!"

For a moment no one moved, Alli's eyes darting wildly around the crowded room.

Mikey was the first to break the tableau. "Alli-bird! You're home." He rushed forward, scooping her up in a hug and spinning her around.

Denim couldn't help cringing on her daughter's behalf as Alli looked like she might be sick when Mikey finished the twirl.

He rubbed his head sheepishly as he noticed her distress, though his chagrin transitioned into concern as his eyes trailed over the bruise on her face and the bones far too prominent beneath her pale, papery flesh. "Alli?"

She reached up, hand unconsciously grazing, her puffy, blue-black cheek. "I... I fainted and fell."

His eyes welled with tears watching her spindly arm.

"I'm sorry, Dad...I..."

He pulled her into a gentler embrace. "It's ok. We'll be ok." Brightening a little, he tried to smile. "You know what sounds great? Some of those nutrition shakes. Yum-tastic, right? I'll pop out and grab a case."

"Wah!" Raph let out a yelp, arms pin-wheeling for balance lest he fall on his shell as, without warning, Mikey snatched the chair out from under him.

He set the chair next to Denim and sat Alli in it. "Hang tight with mama. I'll be right back." And he rushed out of the apartment, everyone staring after him.

Raph stopped scowling after Mikey long enough to refocus his attention on Alli. "What was that about Anton?"

Alli's fingers clenched, turning her knobby knuckles white as she looked around the table for someone to rescue her from answering. No one volunteered.

She looked down at her hands. "He left his phone at Spot's place and went to go get it." She looked up, catching her youngest uncle's eye. "I wanted Yuuta to help him. And bring him back quickly without him getting frustrated and losing his temper. Because Yuuta's good at finding stuff." She finished lamely after awkwardly emphasizing 'quickly' and 'temper.'

Denim watched Raph and Zoe share a skeptical glance and couldn't help wondering what was really going on. But she was afraid to push. The situation was already so precarious.

Yuuta frowned, but stood up. He signed 'we'll talk later' and turned to leave.