CHAPTER NINETEEN

THE ENEMY

Please note (if you're interested):

http://www.angelfire.com/ok5/tmnt/where/ch19.html

And a lot happens in this "missing" scene, btw, so you might want to read it for the emotional/plot value even if you wouldn't normally read the sex. It's not all that graphic, and for a reason.

Raphael was still for a moment, not sure of how to respond. "What?"

She smiled. "I said I know," she answered. "I know your him."

"Who's 'him'?" he demanded.

"One of the freaks."

He stared at her, dumbfounded. How could she know that? He certainly didn't want to admit it, at any rate. "There were two of you," she continued. "My father took pictures. And he told me things. I knew from the start who you were."

Raphael's jaw clenched. It was obvious that she knew, and there was no point in denying it. "So what are you saying?" he demanded.

She smiled. "Don't worry, Raphael. Your secret's safe with me."

He tensed. She even knew his name. He didn't want to think of what else she knew. "You came here for the other one, right?" she continued. "To 'rescue' him?"

Raphael didn't answer. He didn't need to. She shook her head in disbelief. "I don't understand you. As if we did you some great disservice in making you human."

"You killed my brother," Raphael growled.

She raised an eyebrow, questioning him. "Interesting," she finally mumbled. "My father said he wasn't taking the change very well, but I never knew that it had killed him. Probably because he didn't have the time he needed to run the necessary tests and find out."

"And now you're going to do the same thing to Donatello, right?" Raph snapped. "Gamble with his life, wondering if he'll live or die like some goddamn lab rat."

She shrugged, and Raphael felt intense anger surge through him. He wanted to kill her, but he dared not make a move. If she knew, she had one up on him. He couldn't be sure that she hadn't told everyone else?

"What do these experiments prove, anyway?" he demanded. "You know what we are, how we came to be. I told your father all of that. We're no threat to you; we just wanted to be left alone."

"I'm aware of that."

"So why?" he asked. "Why keep doing it? I mean, I guess I understand before, when you didn't know. But why take Donatello?"

She sighed. "Raphael, do you know what it was, that was done to you? Do you understand what we did?"

"No," he answered. "And I wouldn't even if you explained it. I don't get science. But I'm sure Donny would like to hear it."

"Well, let me see if I can make it simple for you," she sighed. "A man has a cat who gets outside and contracts a feline cold. Can the cat then give that cold to the human?"

"How the hell should I know?" Raphael shot back. "And why should I care? I'm neither."

"You're right," she smiled. "You're neither. And tell me this, Raphael. In all of the years that you've been neither, throughout your entire life, have you ever been sick?"

That thought struck him. He could remember a number of times, when he was younger, that he'd been sick. "Yes," he answered.

That didn't seem to surprise her. "What kind of sickness?" she asked. "Have you ever had a cold?"

He considered that, and shook his head. "No. Flu."

She smiled. "And I'll bet it didn't last very long. In fact, it probably didn't last more than a few hours because it was probably something you ate."

He wasn't sure how to answer that. He didn't want to admit that she was right. She stepped closer. "Let me tell you something, Raphael. You would have been dead if you were capable of it, when my father injected you with every virus known to man starting with the common cold and ending with AIDS."

He stared at her, trying to mask his shock. He knew that they had done that to Mike, and figured that's what had killed him. He'd had no idea that he was exposed to everything that his brother was. For a moment, he panicked. Could he have been carrying AIDS for the past fifteen years without knowing it? "But you were immune to it," she continued. "Immune to it all. Your body was shocked by the foreign presence, but the viruses themselves didn't do a thing to you. In time, your body flushed it out. Do you know that? Do you realize what it means? You are the cure for AIDS. You are the ultimate medicine for every disease known to man.

"So we had to think of how we could apply that. At first we wanted to make people like you. If you look at your DNA, you'll see how we thought this might be possible. So we attempted to change your DNA, to find the strain that was different, to try and figure out how to change human DNA to match yours. Your body accepted the alteration, while the other rejected it. But you were both gone before we could completely record the results."

"So what do you want with Donny?" he demanded. "You trying it again? The same thing?"

"We haven't yet," she answered. "We were planning on it, but we had something else we wanted to do first."

"What's that?"

She sighed. "Well, we always wanted to see if it could actually produce offspring with a human female. It was possible to alter a fetus's DNA, we realized, and that was part of it. That opened up a whole new door of possibilities in testing the child's immunity. And then you showed up and proved to us that it was quite possible to have a naturally produced crossbreed."

Raphael's eyes closed slowly. "So you were gonna inject all that shit into Mica, too?" he realized.

"If she is like you, she will not be affected."

"Yeah, and what if she's like her father?" he demanded angrily. "Or better yet, what if she has no immunity and you give her AIDS and cancer and shit?" He shook his head. "There's no fucking way you're getting at her."

The doctor shrugged. "I don't care if it's her, or offspring from the one we have now..." She eyed him suspiciously. "Or from you. We need more subjects and we're going to get them, one way or another."

It took a moment to contemplate her words. "Me?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I take it you haven't ever given blood before. Guess you wouldn't have a reason to get it tested when you never get sick. But if you had, say, gone to the Red Cross... Your blood is still different. Your DNA was changed enough to make you look human. But you're still very much a mutant inside."

He studied her. "You're saying that if I had a child, it would be cross-mutated."

"Yes."

"Well you're wrong," he shot. She eyed him suspiciously. "I have a child. He lives with his mother across the country and you'll never see him. But he's very much human."

"Does he get sick?" she asked.

"I wouldn't know," he growled. "I've never met him."

"I'd be willing to bet that he doesn't."

"And I'd be willing to bet that you're in serious need of therapy," he answered. "This is a child you're talking about experimenting on."

She sighed. "That's my problem, not yours."

He glared at her. "You're so sick."

He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. Without a word, he turned to walk away. "I can help you, Raphael."

He stopped. "What makes you think I need your help?" he asked, not looking back.

"If you want to get him out alive, you do," she answered.

That was a threat, and he knew it. He turned around slowly. "Yeah, Spirit," he whispered. "You have the power. The decision whether he lives or dies, it's all in your hands." His eyes narrowed into slits as he watched her reaction. "Until I cut them off of your body and leave you scattered in a million pieces over the Atlantic Ocean."

She walked closer to him and he tensed as she stopped mere inches away. "So kill me," she breathed. He could feel the warmth on his lips. "You won't be any closer to getting him. In fact, you'll be further away. When the police do their investigation on my death... and every finger points to you."

He stood frozen as she licked his lips and smiled seductively at him. "Or you could cooperate with me. And I'll give him to you. Completely unharmed."

He stared at her. Anger burned steadily inside of him, and he choked back the urge to hit her. "What do you want from me?" he demanded coldly.

She rested her hands on his shoulders and pressed close to him. "Stay in his place," she smiled.

He didn't have a chance to fully comprehend that before he realized that she was kissing him. His body tensed as she rubbed against him, and his mind flooded with a million thoughts at once. He pulled away from her, gripping her arms. "For how long?" he demanded.

She smiled. "What if I said for the rest of your life? Is it worth it, Raphael?"

"How long?" he asked again.

"As long as I say," she answered.

"How. Long?"

"Long enough for me to run a few simple tests," she breathed, stepping closer. "And a few experiments of my own."

His eyes narrowed as he watched her, considering a dozen scenarios at once. If she knew who he was, his plan wasn't going to work. Suddenly, everything he'd been working for had just blown up in his face. She was asking him to go back to the lab, and he knew that was suicide. But Donny would be out, one way or another, and this would be over. That was the goal. He'd worry about himself later.

"I'll make a deal with you," he whispered. "You can run your tests on me, but you stop right now anything you're pumping into his body. He gets out alive, regardless of what your tests on me turn up."

She considered that for a moment. "What guarantee do you have that I'll let him go, Raphael?" she challenged.

"Only your word," he mumbled. "The word that you give to me knowing that if you don't live up to it, I'll have nothing to lose. And then I'll kill you."

She watched him closely. It didn't look to her like he was joking. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to press him. "Okay. But one more thing," she whispered.

"What?" he demanded coldly.

She smiled up at him seductively. "Stay the night with me."

He pushed her away. "Like hell."

She laughed. "You want him out alive?" she questioned. "You don't have the option of arguing with me right now."

"What the hell are you on, Spirit?" he demanded. "This some kind of fucking power play for you?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe I just think you've got a lot of potential to be a really good lay."

He glared at her. "Are all of you really this sick?" he demanded.

She was unmoved. "Yes or no, Raphael," she shrugged.

He stared at her for a moment, weighing his options. He could kill her where she stood, but that wouldn't bring him any closer to getting Donny out. He could refuse her and she would probably be angry and bitter and do everything she could to make his brother suffer more. Or he could give in.

His eyes closed in humiliation as he realized there was really only one option. He was out of time, a lot sooner than he thought he'd be, and his brother's life meant more to him than his dignity. "If I do that," he whispered. "You're gonna give me that child too."

She laughed. "Are we bargaining?"

"Always."

She smiled at him. "You're asking me to put my entire carreer on the line, do you realize that?"

"You're asking me," he reminded her. "I don't want anything to do with you."

She looked him up and down and he tensed under her gaze. She smiled. "You better be one hell of a good fuck, Raphael."

He looked up at her and glared. "Yeah, I'd better," he growled. "Because I gotta pull it off while entertaining thoughts of how I'm gonna kill you when this is over."

***

"Why do you care so much?"

Raphael didn't speak. His fingers brushed back and forth over her skin as he considered all the ways he could answer that. She turned to look at him. "I don't understand you," she whispered. "We gave you everything. Gave you a soul, gave you a life, made you everything you are. We made you a part of society and handed you a chance at being normal. And yet you treat us like the enemy."

His eyes closed, his jaw clenched tightly. "Why?" she demanded after a long silence. "Do you really feel that your life was better as it was? As a freak of nature?"

Anger stirred inside of him and made his muscles tense. His life was better before. As much as he hated to admit it, all that he had gained could not make up for what he had lost. All the time that he had grown up, his family was all that he had. Then so suddenly, his whole world fell apart. The pieces had never fit together right again.

"You're wrong," he whispered, knowing that she would press for an answer until she got one. "But even if you were right, it wasn't worth my brother's life."

"Your brother," she repeated. "You still think of it like that? You still think of it as part of your pack?"

Fury ran through every fiber of his being and he forced his eyes closed. He clenched his teeth and swallowed hard, trying to control his breathing. It. That "it" had been his best friend, his brother, and the one person in the world that he always knew he could talk to. "It" had never judged him, had never forced him to live up to a set of standards. "It" had kept him awake at night when "it" cried, when "it" mourned innocent blood, when "it" stood on the outside of the world and looked in at the people and the life "it" could never have. And as they grew older, as circumstances took their toll on their lives, when "it" blamed "itself" for the death of a close friend, when "it" turned cold and lifeless and nearly died from the grief, it was Raphael who had cried. Now once again, he felt tears burn at the backs of his eyes.

He forced himself to breath deep, and said nothing. "Why does it hurt you so much?" Spirit asked. "You're no longer a part of that, and yet you still feel like you are."

She turned onto her side and raised his chin with her fingers, bringing his eyes to hers. "I could help you, Raphael," she breathed. "To let go of that life. You'd be so much happier if you could just let go."

He glared at her. "This is just business, Doctor," he growled. "And let me tell you one thing. I don't care what you do to me. But if you don't live up to your side of the bargain... if he doesn't live through this for any reason... I will kill you."

She sighed and lay back down on the pillow, pressing close to him. He lay motionless on his back and listened for the telltale signs that she was asleep. He couldn't go anywhere, much as he wanted to. He had to stay here until morning, when she'd probably run a dozen different tests on him.

He glanced at her as her breathing pattern changed and felt intense hatred burn in him. He felt disgusted and angry. He'd never been so used and manipulated in his life. He felt gross, defiled by what he had just done.

He slipped out of the bed silently and grabbed his clothes off the floor, heading for the shower. He doubted it was going to help, but he couldn't stand to lay in her bed for another minute. His thoughts played over the events of the past few hours, over and over as the hot water stung his neck and shoulders. It had all been mechanical, like a flashback of a former life. He'd been completely numb. His body reacted to her touch, but he'd felt nothing. Even as he felt her tighten around him, heard her scream him name, realized that he was reacting to the point that he was flowing inside of her...

He'd felt the entire time as if he were watching from the other side of the room. Was that what it felt like, to be raped? Not that she had done that. There was no way in hell she could've overpowered him, or made him to anything he wasn't willing to. So why did he feel so defiled? Why had he felt so shocked as he watched himself go through the motions he'd been through a thousand times before? Shocked that he was so helpless. Shocked that his body was reacting the way that it was. Shocked that he could subconsciously, without so much as a thought, do everything she wanted. He'd satisfied her. He'd bought his brother's freedom, at least in part. Damn her!

Anger burned inside of him. He felt incredibly violated. He wanted to run, to never have to look that woman in the eye again. What hurt even more, and confused him, was the fact that he knew she understood exactly what he was feeling. She would have to be stupid to think that he loved her. It wasn't about love at all. It was about power. And as much as it humiliated him to admit it, she had power over him. She had his brother, and that was enough to steal his soul. She had her sex and that was enough to steal his body.

He closed his eyes as the steam rose around him, the hot water pounding hard on his shoulders. He felt indignant tears burn his eyes and he let them come. They mingled with the water and ran over his body, washing away the evidence of her assault. It was an assault. When a man held a woman down by her wrists and forced her to have sex against her will, it was called rape. When a woman held a man down by his loyalties and his weaknesses and did the same damn thing, that was rape too. The thought sent a whole new wave of emotions through him. How could he allow something like that? But at the same time, he realized that there was absolutely nothing he could have done. His brother was worth more to him than his life.

Shame welled up inside of him, masking the anger, and he was glad that he was alone. He knew he'd get through this. Hell, he'd been through worse in his life. But it didn't make it any easier. He sobbed quietly as his mind raced around and around the same, painful track.

***

Leonardo awoke slowly and sat up in the darkness. Something was wrong. He could feel a familiar tugging deep in his soul. And yet it was so... unfamiliar. He lit the oil lamp beside the bed and stood to his feet hesitantly. Leaving his weapons on the floor - for he was sure there was no danger here - he walked to his bedroom door.

Mica was on the sofa, engrossed in the TV. He glanced at the clock. It was almost one. "Mica?"

She jumped, surprised, and turned around. "You scared me!"

"Sorry," he apologized. "Has Raphael come home yet?"

She shook her head. "I haven't seen him. Last I knew he was going out with some chic named Spirit."

Leo couldn't explain it, but somehow that worried him. He turned and walked back into his room, closing the door. He set the lamp down on the floor, then sat down next to it, crossing his legs in front of him. He extinguished the flame and closed his eyes on the darkness. Strangely, he was no longer tired. Sleep had suddenly become the furthest thing from his mind. He felt a burning deep inside of him. An intense emotion that he couldn't put his finger on.

No, it was not just one emotion, he realized. It was several. All closely related to each other but distinctly different nonetheless.

Helplessness. He saw Michaelangelo and his heart wretched in his chest. He'd been unable to do anything except to watch as his brother's life slipped away. And it had been the same way with Raphael. He would never admit that to anyone else, but he had accepted it himself long ago. He'd been able to do nothing to stop his brother from leaving, from abandoning them. His thoughts drifted to Donatello, but were caught somewhere between the two. Raphael... what could he have felt in those few days surrounding Mike's death? Had that been why he left? And now that he was back, was he trying to make up for that? To pull himself through a rescue that he felt, in some small way, might make up for Michaelangelo's death? But not to me, Leo realized. He's doing this for himself. At least he was trying to. But through the darkness, Leo could hear his brother crying...

Hurt. He felt a pain inside of him that was so unfamiliar. Raphael's spirit was strong in this place that his mind had journeyed. He stepped closer, unsure of whether or not he would be welcomed or even acknowledged. He felt heat. A humid heat that seemed to somehow soothe the burning pain. But it wasn't a physical pain. It was a knowledge, a realization that he had reached the end of everything he could do. And a fear that it might not be enough.

Anger. He felt emotions breaking down, his own fists clenching as he realized... what? That Donatello was dead? The thought felt unreal: a fear which was itself an emotion, and couldn't support any other feelings. No, Donatello was not dead. But Raphael knew something more than Leo did. Something that angered him fiercely.

Love. It felt out of place, but it was unmistakeable. It was the kind of love that was unconditional; the kind that brought tears to Leo's eyes as he realized that there was nothing he wouldn't do to see his brother home safely. That same love was one with the spirit before him, and it made him pause. He would not have thought that of someone who had left his family without once looking back. Such unconditional love would never walk away, never turn its back on need.

Defilement. Leonardo was struck by the sudden blow. He didn't understand it. He couldn't even think of how it fit. He wasn't sure he wanted to. He knew his brother well. How could Raphael allow such a thing in his mind? For a man who'd based his entire existence on feeling, how could he allow himself to feel something so terrible? How could he allow any events in his life that would make him feel it?

Shame. Shame for allowing those events. Leonardo understood now. It was shame that made him want to crawl inside of himself and disappear. What did you do, Raphael? he sighed, not expecting or really even sure he wanted an answer. But the answer came anyway, whether from his mind or for his brothers, he was not sure. Either way, it rang true in his soul and he accepted it without question.

Whatever it took.