Undiscovered Power
~
Prida's back ached in the morning because of the funny position she had slept in. She woke up with a groan, and placing her hands on her sides gave a stretch, letting her uncombed hair seemed even longer down her back as it draped down onto the bed behind her. She looked down at her guest in bed, and climbed off, making her way to the kitchen. With a yawn she grabbed two slices of bread and dropped them in the toaster, then grabbed the butter and a knife, and waited for it to be toasted while she went out and checked to see if there was any mail. She returned after a slam of the door with one postcard from Egypt. As she read the happy writing of Mai, Prida allowed a small smile to overcome her miserable feelings this morning. She dropped the postcard of the pyramids on the counter, and decided to see if she could reach April while waiting for her toast. She walked into the hall and picked the phone up that was attached to the wall. She knew April's phone number by heart now, so she nervously dialed the number, and waited as the ringing tones rang on.
"Damn," she breathed after the tenth ring, and put the phone back. She remained stood there for a few seconds, thoughts whizzing through her head. But it was too early to be bombarded with the questions and thoughts that kept pestering her whenever her mind had space to fit any in. So Prida walked back into the kitchen to the smell of burnt toast, and gave a roll of her eyes and grinded her teeth. She didn't feel all that hungry just then, and didn't have much of an appetite, but it was something to do, and so she started to butter – or more correctly – mutilate her toast with the knife, and plunked them down on a small plate. She picked it up and made her way back down to the basement, thinking she should get back to looking through the book that she hadn't finished last night. At least, she WAS thinking this until it immediately flew from her mind as soon as she stepped off the last step of the basement and around the corner of the wall.
"WHOA!"
She jumped so quickly at this sudden outburst to her delicate morning eardrums that she dropped the plate of toast, and it shattered on the floor. She was left staring in shocked fright at who had made the noise.
On the bed, half stood, half kneeling, was Raph, staring at her with a much greater look of shock on his face. The bed sheets had obviously been pushed back when he had woken, no doubt confused, and had fallen from him as he had jumped up. He appeared frozen as he stared at her, but his expression changed, and a frown creased his brow, mouth open as though he had seen the most horrific thing in his life, though Raph's expression would not be exaggerated if it was, it would be understated, as it was now.
Prida's heart had almost exploded with the sudden jolt it had received, but she was quite sure it was still working because it was beating fast against her rib cage. She herself had froze, and probably reflected Raph's first shocked expression.
Raph opened his mouth wider as if to speak, but he merely closed it slightly and his frown seemed to increase. His first thoughts, after his mind had regained itself, was that he was dreaming (or should he say nightmaring) because, admittedly, he did have dreams in which his dead friend was alive; but they all replayed the horrible night he had seen her killed, or sometimes he was not trapped in the truck, but beside her, and could not move her out the way before the flaming car wreck crashed down upon her, after which he always woke in sweats, feeling utmost guilt that he could have saved her. She was the cause of many sleepless nights, no offence to her soul. But this, this was not one of his dreams that replayed every night, he had never seen this room, and he had never seen her in that attire . . . so why and how was he dreaming of it now? A gut wrenching feeling told him this was no dream . . . so was he dead then?
"Raph . . . ?" Prida managed to say in a slightly shaky voice, quietly. She took a step forward. Would he remember her? Had she knocked him silly?
But his frown slowly disappeared and lifted his head slightly, staring at her. Her voice had seemed so real, even though his throbbing temples were affecting his hearing, he could still hear. In his dreams she had cried out his name too, but her voice was always far away, and it echoed. Maybe he was looking at someone else, but he was seeing Prida . . . but how could they have known his name? And her voice was exactly as he remembered it . . .
Slowly Raph shook his head, the smallest of frowns on his brow. "You're not real," he said softly.
The tone of which he sounded convinced of himself made Prida's heart stop beating for an actually second, before it continued but as though it was filled with lead. His words stung, she had hoped he would have greeted a 'dead' friend a bit better than that, even if he DID think he was dreaming.
"Yes I am . . ." she choked in an equally soft tone, as though trying to argue. Her own brow had turned inwards and upwards in anguish, and she felt for the first time in four month the abrupt wanting to cry all of a sudden. Sure she had cried in those first few weeks after, but this feeling seemed much deeper.
Raph was looking at her with sorrow, as though sincerely sorry about something. He crouched down and stepped both feet off the bed, and stood up, all the while staring at her. His head suddenly felt extremely heavy, and his sight started to fade to blackness, but he blinked and it returned. He could still feel the burning of his cheeks.
"I am real," Prida said in the quiet voice she had adopted, along with the soft tone. "I – I am – real . . . I'm alive . . . you're not imagining this . . ." she looked into his eyes and managed to pull one side of her mouth into a small smile, " . . . it's me."
His head was tilted downwards slightly. He was trying to convince himself this was one of his dreams . . . a new dream that might end with him waking and cursing his nightmares again.
"You're dead," he whispered as though regrettably stating a fact; face expressionless now. He had never been able to carry out a conversation with her in his dreams, so as horrible as it sounded to him, he was developing a feeling of gratefulness to this reverie.
Prida shook her head quickly. "No, I'm not dead, I – I didn't die . . . but – but I thought you had." She wanted desperately to tell him what she had put together, but at the same time she didn't want to talk, she wanted to hug him and never let go, to let tears stream down her face in happiness.
He tilted his head very slightly to his left in confusion. Maybe this WAS a dream, and she was an angel, and had entered his dreams to tell him something. An angel . . . she was even more beautiful than he remembered, it made sense for her to be an angel.
She took another step forwards, her hands were held out, palms facing the ceiling, as though she was going to make a serious but sad point.
"You – you didn't die in . . . in . . ." she suddenly found her throat blocked, but she swallowed and continued. " . . . in the truck explosion, did you?" She should have given him a few more seconds to answer before she said again, "didn't you?"
He was staring at her with an almost blank expression again. There was something else there that she could not tell, and the way he was studying her made her think he was trying to memorize every detail in case he never saw this dream again.
He shook his head slightly slower than usual for a second time. "No."
"But I thought you had," she explained, placing the tips of her fingers to her heart. Staring so deep into his eyes she wouldn't be surprised if she had just forced the whole explanation into his mind. "I thought you had been killed in the explosion – with your brothers!" Her voice was slightly louder than normal tone, but soft. "But you hadn't . . . so . . . so – you must have seen the car wreck fall on me . . . and you thought . . . I had been killed."
His frown was back, and he stared at the floor, obviously confused.
"Don't you see? I thought you were dead, and you thought I was dead," she said. She took another step forward and tilted her head to watch his eyes stare at the floor. He seemed to be grinding his teeth in a very pensive way.
"This is too . . ." he looked back up to her, thinking for a word and seemingly finding it in her expression. " . . . unreal."
"But it's true," Prida pressed softly, her hands were now bunched, pressed against each other in front of her in a dramatic-like way. She shook them very slightly up and down once as she spoke. She stepped within a foot's distance from him, and picked up one of his hands in her shaking pair, cupping it in hers. He looked into her face as her small smile appeared. "I missed you," she whispered. Then she threw her arms around his neck, and closed her eyes as she buried her face in his shoulder, suddenly feeling so happy, her lead-filled heart was as light as a feather, and she could feel a tear seep from each of her closed eyes. She felt his arms against her back, and she felt the safest she had in four months.
"Oh my God, Prida," she heard him breathe, and she knew, with a satisfied flutter of her heart, he knew.
"Why didn't you believe me when I first told you," she whispered, chocking with happiness on her words. She didn't want to let go; her arms were locked around his shell. But she could feel him shaking, as though the strength to keep himself upright was disappearing.
"I thought you were dead!" He said through a small, chuckle. "I couldn't have just believed you with your first word . . . not after all the nightmares . . ."
"I'm still in shock after seeing you on the road," she said. "I couldn't believe my eyes, I – I thought I was seeing things . . ."
There was a moment's silence, and then he said, "How did you get me here?" His voice seemed quiet, as though he was very tired.
"With great difficulty," she smiled into his shoulder, eyes still closed. But she opened them as Raph seemed to slide to the ground, and she only just caught him, while he tried to regain his balance. "Raph – get back onto the bed, you're not well," she told him, half dragging him there.
His vision had started to fade into blackness again, and his head was so painful he was sure his brain was being subjected to sharp electricity.
"I figured," he muttered, as he was lowered onto the bed. He sat up with his hand on his head and tried to control his breathing pattern. Prida was sat next to him, her hand on his shoulder looking extremely concerned for him.
"What is it? A Cold?" She asked. "A really BAD cold?"
Raph shook his head. "I don't know."
Prida put her other hand on his other shoulder and pushed him down onto the bed.
"Yeah, well, whatever it is, you're staying here until you're well," she said in a soft tone.
Raph did not argue, he had no strength to argue. But he did manage to say, "So, are you gonna tell me . . . what happened after . . . ?"
Prida pulled the bed sheets back over him and looked at the floor.
"Guess I should," she sighed. She looked back at him. "But first, tell me that ALL of you survived . . . Leo, Don, Mike . . . they made it too, right?" Saying their names made tears well in her eyes. She missed them so much.
Raph nodded wearily. "They're alright, they survived . . ." Though they're probably not alright now, I've been gone – actually how long have I been gone? – a while at least, they'll be worried sick.
Prida's eyes shimmered above her happy smile, as she looked overjoyed at hearing they were all alive. Before she knew it she had thrown herself on her friend again, in happiness, and was hugging him again, cheek to cheek.
"Thank God, you don't know what thoughts were running through my head while you were still unconscious . . ." the tears fell from her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. " . . . I'm so sorry for running over you . . ." Though she wasn't sorry at all in a way – she couldn't believe her luck!
Raph chuckled, face still pressed against hers. "It was you who ran into me?" He snorted softly again. "So . . .what happened after . . . well, we only saw the burning car wreck fall . . ."
She sat back up, feeling nothing like herself. She could never remember feeling like this for any friends, and yet four of them had had such an impact on her they had tough-girl Prida crying. But even though she knew their true form was of a mutant turtle, she would always see them as the first quads Vinilla High had ever seen.
"I –" she began, then swallowed and took a deep breath. "I was taken to hospital and was in a – " she paused, mouth hanging open on her last word. Then she continued. " – in there for a little more than a week before I was allowed out . . . I was so – upset – that you'd 'died'. The gang –" she smiled at him " – all came to visit, and I – I told them that you had gone back to LA, but I told Roxanne that you had been killed . . . even J – er – Tooks was nice to me . . . but you don't know how glad I am to know you're all alive," she grinned so widely at him it seemed to reflect onto his face. She did not know why she had stopped herself mentioning her coma, perhaps deep down inside her she didn't want him to feel pity or sorrow for her, when he should be concentrating on his own well being.
Raph lifted his head off the pillow, and looked at her. "Tooks?" He asked in a slightly surprised tone.
Prida looked at the floor, and then nodded. "Yes, he was . . . well, he wasn't himself when he came to see me in hospital – " thanks to Mai for that information " – and he actually sent me a card . . . with most of his feelings in it . . . He's been –" but she caught herself. She didn't really think it was wise to tell Raph he had been visiting her frequently since her accident.
But he had detected something in her abrupt cut off, and narrowed his eyes. "He's been what?"
Prida sighed and took interest in the floor again. "Visiting me, he cares about me . . . perhaps too much." She couldn't believe that she was sat here talking about Tooks with her friend who she had only just spoken to the first time in four months.
Raph felt his blood boil at hearing this, for some reason he didn't like the thought of it; of her being in this house on her own with that animal. Just then it felt like old times when he and Tooks shared the same hate for each other back in high school. He longed to go back to those days where he could walk around in daylight, with no trench coat to hide his green skin. Now, he had become aware of the fact that the last time Prida had seen them like this was not even for an hour, and at that minute he felt uncomfortable; she had obviously had a lot more time to 'study' him while he had been out.
"Are you gonna tell me your story?" She asked with a smile. She couldn't wait until she saw Leo, Don and Mikey again – imagine their faces.
Raph propped himself up on his elbows, even though as he did so it felt like his temperature just rose a few degrees. He began to tell her how Leo had managed to get them all through the hold in the truck, and how Casey had found them collapsed at the bottom of the manhole. He himself, still couldn't believe he was laid there talking to the one friend his own age who was not green, nor related. He too, had never felt this happy, yet he was slightly angry by the fact that when he did happened to run into his friend who he had not seen in four months, he had to be ill with a cold; though it felt much more than a cold.
"April never could find a date for your funeral," he said with a smile.
She smiled back and said, "Well I thought your bodies would have been found by the police or scientists. I didn't even know if Casey had survived. It's been horrible . . ." She watched him close his eyes, but she could tell he had not gone to sleep, so she changed the subject and continued to talk. "I tried phoning April, to tell her about you." He gave a small grunt, which Prida knew was a laugh, as he too could imagine April listening to Prida introduce herself again over the phone. Prida chuckled softly too, keeping her eyes on his face. "But she was obviously at work."
"She works a lot, lately," Raph mumbled quietly. His eyes remained closed, and the rising of his chest became slower. Prida smiled and pulled the covers up to his shoulders and lent forwards, so her face was an inch above his forehead.
"Sweet dreams," she whispered, hoping now he knew, his dreams would be more pleasant than before. She kissed his forehead and withdrew her head, staring at him for a few seconds before she got to her feet, and for some totally out-of-control moment, she jumped into the air on the spot then twirled, facing him again with a smile so full of happiness she was surprised she didn't burst. Shaking her head contently at herself, she picked up the book from the floor, that had obviously been dropped when Raph had awoke, turned and disappeared to change her clothes. She would ask him later whether or not he could remember waking up and not recognizing her.