I don't own the TMNT's and their friends from the Mirage conglomerate ( forgot to do that with the first chapter, so this one covers it all - I hope. If not, get yer'self a blanket.
Also, I do not own Mickey Mouse. Minnie does - oh, and Walt Disney, of course. NO this will not be a cross over, but you will wonder a little about a certain red-masked mutant turtle! :0)
*********
I was now one week into my stay under the watchful care of Donatello and his brethren. I wasn't sure what I was going to do once I healed, but I knew that the first thing I would have to do would be to contact Crazy Bill in some fashion. I wanted to at least let him know that I was still alive, at least. From there I didn't have any idea what my future would be.
Knowing my friends had gone to all the trouble to retrieve my bed, I wanted desperately to be out of Donatello's room. I was right in assuming that it was his bed that I was sleeping in. While I was occupying his quarters, Don was using the floor in Leo's.
Yep, Raph bunked with Mikey.
I had all I could do to keep from laughing out loud. I wondered how in the world Raph tolerated having Mickey Mouse curtains. In the short time I knew them he seemed the least likely to put up with such silliness. I could only assume that he had lost a bet or a contest of some sort.
Of course, Mike had a wonderfully good time teasing Don about the fact that I slept in his room. Something about using any excuse to get a woman in his bed.
Then there was another comment he made, "Wouldn't you know, Donny, you'd finally get a girl and the bed's not big enough for the both of you."
That had Leo chuckling. I never knew that serious turtle could smile. It was quite a nice smile in fact, now that I think back to it.
Then, Raph had to join in with something like "Donny, at least next time make sure she's conscious. Oh, wait; maybe it's be better if she wasn't!"
Even though I was the focus of these little remarks I couldn't help but laugh.
But, poor Donny was just not too receptive. I wasn't sure if he was embarrassed for himself or for me. All he did was take the ribbing quietly and when they were finished he headed off for his room. I felt so bad for him. No wonder he was shy.
"You know, I'm not at all embarrassed, Don." I assured him.
"You should be." He admonished me.
"Why? They're just teasing, after all. All brothers tease like that." I told him.
"Well, it's just that…well….they're right. Look at us, Min. We're turtles for cry'n out loud. Who's going to want any of us?"
Donny was almost too smart for his own good. He was correct in some small way.
On the surface he, his brothers, and Splinter were about the most unique people in the world. Knowing my own species the way I did I was aware that my turtle friends would not be readily accepted by the masses. They would have to do some extraordinary thing to undermine the prejudiced nature of my kind. Giving the world some contribution in a grand and magnificent fashion would be the only way they could overcome those obstacles.
"You all are very special, you know that. Not just because you're turtles, but because you have such a heart for others. It's a gift that one day will benefit you." I told him.
Donny only looked at me and shrugged, "Maybe. But, who'll listen? All they'll see is green, and shells on our backs and then maybe lock us up. Maybe it won't matter what any of us know!"
"What do you know, Donny?" I asked him.
"Oh, I've tried talking about things I dream up but no one here understands." He lamented.
"I'll understand." I said. I smiled at him.
He looked at me like I was just pulling his leg. "Yeah, right." He said. He turned around in his chair and went back to working some strange formula on his computer.
I realized then that I hadn't told any of them of what I used to do before waiting tables at Angelo's Diner or before living at the brownstone in the middle of slum-ville, New York.
"Maybe if you knew that I once taught at Cornell University and then at the University of Chicago you might think differently." I told him. I was sitting down on the end of his bed, watching him react to what I just told him.
Donny turned around from the P.C. and just stared at me. He blinked a couple of times and then, slowly, a smile spread across his face.
"Really, you really taught there?" he asked me.
"Yep, I started at Cornell when I was twenty-two. I was their youngest professor. I was home-schooled by my mom and graduated from 12th grade when I was thirteen. I was sort of a smarty-pants, I guess! Anyway, by the time I had my masters I was eighteen. Cornell preferred professors with PhD's and so that's what I went for. I love history and so that's what I ended up with – a Ph d in history. I met my husband at Cornell; he was a physical education instructor; I kind of went with the brawn rather than the brain. Big mistake on my part, I guess, all things considered. Anyway, once Jack and I married he was accepted over at Chicago University and that's ….well, our marriage only lasted about ten years."
"How did you end up at Angelo's? I mean, if you can teach at the university level, why wait on tables?" Donny had the most pleased look on his face; as if he'd finally found someone who could talk on his level. Looking over at his mathematical computation, I didn't think I qualified, but – hey – I can listen real smart.
I answered him, "Sometimes life hands you a curve, Don. If you can catch it, there's no problem. If you can't catch it, then that ball can knock you down and out. That's what happened to me. It sort of knocked the wind out of me. Kind of like what happened in that alley."
I didn't yet feel comfortable sharing about Brandi. It was enough that my friends took me in after finding me beaten. I hate being a burden and even worse I hate it when people feel sorry for me. Losing a child is the most painful thing anyone could go through, the fallout being you get a lot of unasked-for attention. People try to say nice things or kind words, but when compared to what you've just lost those kind words just can't cut it. Words would never bring my Brandi back.
Don cocked his head towards me and asked, "Would it have anything to do with a girl named Brandi?"
I just sat there and shook my head. How'd he do that? It just amazed me.
"Okay, how'd you know about Brandi?" I was a little steamed, mostly due to the fact that just the mention of her name brought my heart up to my throat. I guess I was still suffering from some delayed effects of grief for both my lost child and my failed marriage. I dreamt about her and maybe in the darkest part of the nights I would think about her. But never did I ever mention Brandi to anyone.
Don immediately saw my reaction. He was already very adept at reading me when I was trying to be careful. However, my entire being was screaming back at him without a sound being uttered. He gulped just a little as he realized he had treaded where he shouldn't.
"I'm sorry, Min. I – ah – well; you called her name out one night while you were unconscious. Just the way you were talking in your sleep I figured that she was someone…."
I interrupted him coolly, "Special?" I gulped, now, as I thought about her. I felt the lump again in my throat. But I could see the look of despair on my friend's face. He didn't know and he wasn't trying to pry. I realized that maybe sharing my soul just a little might be a good thing. I only hoped I could keep at bay the emotions that were starting to build up.
"Don't apologize, Don. You didn't know. Brandi was special. She was – my daughter. She died of leukemia when she was nine and that's when Jack left me. Then my sanity went south for a while." I swallowed back that lump, refusing it release. But I couldn't help the one tear that managed to elude my control. Blast it anyway, I seethed.
But for Don, I smiled weakly as I could see my words had deeply affected him. I was afraid he would try to say something reassuring but he didn't. All he did was nod and then take my hand in his out of compassion.
Out of all the cards, the casseroles that followed the funeral, and the kind words, Don's caring touch was the nicest thing anyone had done for me.
And he wasn't even human.
Says a lot for my own species, doesn't it?
*******
When I moved out of Don's room, he and his brothers set up a very private sleeping area for me that was situated on the other side of the bathroom. The bathroom was conveniently located between the subway cars and my new digs, allowing me access without having to walk past the turtles' bedrooms.
My alcove was probably about the size of my now defunct one room apartment, so it afforded me enough space to have my bed set up. I was impressed that they were able to get the mattress through the man-hole and wondered if maybe they had to fold it in some way. Once everything was up and 'running', I tested it out and found it as it was the last time I had slept on it. The only thing I lacked initially was a dresser for my clothes and adequate lighting. However, I didn't complain or say anything. I was overwhelmed that they would even allow me to stay in their lair.
When my sight finally returned to normal and I could see as well as before, the very first thing I had to get used to was Splinter. I was grateful that when we first met my eyes had been blindfolded; otherwise I probably would have given him as much chance as a snowball in…. well, I just wouldn't have.
Yes, Splinter was certainly a rat and a rather large one to say the least. However, despite the fact that my eyes were getting ever wider as I stared at him, he had the civility to have fixed me a cup of that wonderful lavender tea. He made sure he had it ready for me when I first laid eyes on him. Our conversations the first day he was alone with me had helped to overcome some of my fear, of course. But the tea was the kicker. I'm sure it had some medicinal attributes, one being it tended to calm me. By presenting me with yet another gracious cup of that nectar I believe Splinter was trying to create an association between him self and the tea. It made perfect psychological sense.
We tend to recover from stressful and fearful events when we can associate them with something pleasant. I believe Splinter was fully aware of this fact when he handed me that steaming cup of the fragrant liquid.
And, thankfully, it worked.
His 'sons' were busy elsewhere in the lair as he didn't want any distractions between our initial first meeting. I felt myself rather brave to sit there in his private car while he entertained me with the story that Mike had shared regarding their beginnings as mutants. Only Splinter added a few things that Mike either forgot or neglected to mention.
I found that there had been at least two other humans that were aware of my friends' existence. One was a reporter by the name of April. She had once been an assistant to a scientist. But when he went mad and was eventually locked up in the state asylum, April ended up working at a local television station as a receptionist. However, she had a nose for news and a good way to present information. So she was offered a small spot on the news reporting local events and crime. Before too long she was co-anchoring the late afternoon and evening news. It was by chance that she came to know the turtles. She benefited them in many ways and in other ways they did likewise for her.
The other human was a man named Casey Jones. Splinter told me that Casey used to play hockey years ago, but his career was cut short due to an injury. I used to follow ice hockey and was quite amused to discover that his name sounded very familiar to me.
"He had kind of a bad-boy image on the ice, if I recall correctly!" I commented, quite intrigued that someone I knew of knew my five friends.
"You can say that again, Min!" Raph shouted out to me. He wasn't anywhere near the car, but evidently his hearing was pretty sharp.
"Raphael, you will kindly ignore any and all conversations that take place between Mindy Johnson and me." Splinter admonished him. "And keep you focus on the task at hand."
The turtles were supposed to be cleaning up their lair. But I could tell that their eagerness for their chores was somewhat lack luster and more focused on what was taking place in the Tassel Room. I had to laugh; they did remind me of a bunch of teenagers doing their choirs but trying not to do them too quickly.
As we continued our conversation, I learned that April and Casey did eventually marry. They were living in Connecticut when she was given a chance to go overseas and do some international reporting for the station she worked for in New York. Splinter seemed rather sad as he told me. It had been about three years since they moved across the Atlantic. The couple had been back to the States maybe once since then and that was the last time they had seen them. Since the lair did not have an address it was virtually impossible for them to get mail. Their phone was tapped into a general phone line that ran between several businesses. Any international calls would become suspect. I could tell that my furry friend missed April and Casey's contribution to his small family unit. Out of reflex I patted his hand in compassion. He smiled at me.
"Thank you, Mindy Johnson, for your care. To have someone listen to me who is not under my mentoring is a treat. It has been too long for such pleasantries."
"Mentoring? Ah, I see." I began, "You teach the turtles things, then?" I asked him.
His eyes sparkled as if he knew something that he wasn't going to tell me. Splinter replied carefully, "I have taught my sons how to survive and to take what they learn of that to protect others. Like you. I have taught them honor and integrity and pride. Not haughty pride, though I do have my hands full with Raphael. Also I try to teach them kindness, too." He seemed to smile, though from my perspective it was more like a sneer.
I had a dog once that did that. Trixie would curl her upper lip whenever I'd get after her. I'm sure it was just an insecure reaction on her part, but it looked so much like a smile! It was the most comical thing to see.
But with Splinter I had to realize that laughing at his expense would be a rude and ungrateful thing to do. I kept my mirth in check.
My next question sat his whiskers down so flat I had all I could do to keep from laughing, "Did you also teach them ninjitsu?"
A sudden quiet fell so hard on the entire lair I thought for sure the world had ended.
"What? Did I say something wrong?" I asked my host.
A few throats cleared somewhere over by where the steps to the ladder were located. I heard an audible hushed "Hoo boy." from Mike and a groan from Leo - I think. It could have been Donny, but I know that Raph had just taken a rather large breath as if he were trying to prepare himself for something.
Finally Splinter replied softly with just a hint of irritation, "No, you did not say anything wrong but I believe I need to speak with my sons about what they talk about when we have visitors."
I started to laugh a little, saying, "Actually, Splinter, I was supposed to be asleep when Raph made a comment to Mike about being ninja. I had just woken up and heard them. It's not really their fault. Please don't get after them."
I was quite amused by Splinter's twitching whiskers and slightly lashing tail; clear indicators that he was somewhat unhappy with his 'sons'.
I had a feeling that there were four turtles that were going to be getting an ear full of Splinter's words of wisdom.
I also had a feeling that they already knew. I could hear an increase of activity outside the Tassel Room as the intensity of their cleaning picked up speed.
Also, I do not own Mickey Mouse. Minnie does - oh, and Walt Disney, of course. NO this will not be a cross over, but you will wonder a little about a certain red-masked mutant turtle! :0)
*********
I was now one week into my stay under the watchful care of Donatello and his brethren. I wasn't sure what I was going to do once I healed, but I knew that the first thing I would have to do would be to contact Crazy Bill in some fashion. I wanted to at least let him know that I was still alive, at least. From there I didn't have any idea what my future would be.
Knowing my friends had gone to all the trouble to retrieve my bed, I wanted desperately to be out of Donatello's room. I was right in assuming that it was his bed that I was sleeping in. While I was occupying his quarters, Don was using the floor in Leo's.
Yep, Raph bunked with Mikey.
I had all I could do to keep from laughing out loud. I wondered how in the world Raph tolerated having Mickey Mouse curtains. In the short time I knew them he seemed the least likely to put up with such silliness. I could only assume that he had lost a bet or a contest of some sort.
Of course, Mike had a wonderfully good time teasing Don about the fact that I slept in his room. Something about using any excuse to get a woman in his bed.
Then there was another comment he made, "Wouldn't you know, Donny, you'd finally get a girl and the bed's not big enough for the both of you."
That had Leo chuckling. I never knew that serious turtle could smile. It was quite a nice smile in fact, now that I think back to it.
Then, Raph had to join in with something like "Donny, at least next time make sure she's conscious. Oh, wait; maybe it's be better if she wasn't!"
Even though I was the focus of these little remarks I couldn't help but laugh.
But, poor Donny was just not too receptive. I wasn't sure if he was embarrassed for himself or for me. All he did was take the ribbing quietly and when they were finished he headed off for his room. I felt so bad for him. No wonder he was shy.
"You know, I'm not at all embarrassed, Don." I assured him.
"You should be." He admonished me.
"Why? They're just teasing, after all. All brothers tease like that." I told him.
"Well, it's just that…well….they're right. Look at us, Min. We're turtles for cry'n out loud. Who's going to want any of us?"
Donny was almost too smart for his own good. He was correct in some small way.
On the surface he, his brothers, and Splinter were about the most unique people in the world. Knowing my own species the way I did I was aware that my turtle friends would not be readily accepted by the masses. They would have to do some extraordinary thing to undermine the prejudiced nature of my kind. Giving the world some contribution in a grand and magnificent fashion would be the only way they could overcome those obstacles.
"You all are very special, you know that. Not just because you're turtles, but because you have such a heart for others. It's a gift that one day will benefit you." I told him.
Donny only looked at me and shrugged, "Maybe. But, who'll listen? All they'll see is green, and shells on our backs and then maybe lock us up. Maybe it won't matter what any of us know!"
"What do you know, Donny?" I asked him.
"Oh, I've tried talking about things I dream up but no one here understands." He lamented.
"I'll understand." I said. I smiled at him.
He looked at me like I was just pulling his leg. "Yeah, right." He said. He turned around in his chair and went back to working some strange formula on his computer.
I realized then that I hadn't told any of them of what I used to do before waiting tables at Angelo's Diner or before living at the brownstone in the middle of slum-ville, New York.
"Maybe if you knew that I once taught at Cornell University and then at the University of Chicago you might think differently." I told him. I was sitting down on the end of his bed, watching him react to what I just told him.
Donny turned around from the P.C. and just stared at me. He blinked a couple of times and then, slowly, a smile spread across his face.
"Really, you really taught there?" he asked me.
"Yep, I started at Cornell when I was twenty-two. I was their youngest professor. I was home-schooled by my mom and graduated from 12th grade when I was thirteen. I was sort of a smarty-pants, I guess! Anyway, by the time I had my masters I was eighteen. Cornell preferred professors with PhD's and so that's what I went for. I love history and so that's what I ended up with – a Ph d in history. I met my husband at Cornell; he was a physical education instructor; I kind of went with the brawn rather than the brain. Big mistake on my part, I guess, all things considered. Anyway, once Jack and I married he was accepted over at Chicago University and that's ….well, our marriage only lasted about ten years."
"How did you end up at Angelo's? I mean, if you can teach at the university level, why wait on tables?" Donny had the most pleased look on his face; as if he'd finally found someone who could talk on his level. Looking over at his mathematical computation, I didn't think I qualified, but – hey – I can listen real smart.
I answered him, "Sometimes life hands you a curve, Don. If you can catch it, there's no problem. If you can't catch it, then that ball can knock you down and out. That's what happened to me. It sort of knocked the wind out of me. Kind of like what happened in that alley."
I didn't yet feel comfortable sharing about Brandi. It was enough that my friends took me in after finding me beaten. I hate being a burden and even worse I hate it when people feel sorry for me. Losing a child is the most painful thing anyone could go through, the fallout being you get a lot of unasked-for attention. People try to say nice things or kind words, but when compared to what you've just lost those kind words just can't cut it. Words would never bring my Brandi back.
Don cocked his head towards me and asked, "Would it have anything to do with a girl named Brandi?"
I just sat there and shook my head. How'd he do that? It just amazed me.
"Okay, how'd you know about Brandi?" I was a little steamed, mostly due to the fact that just the mention of her name brought my heart up to my throat. I guess I was still suffering from some delayed effects of grief for both my lost child and my failed marriage. I dreamt about her and maybe in the darkest part of the nights I would think about her. But never did I ever mention Brandi to anyone.
Don immediately saw my reaction. He was already very adept at reading me when I was trying to be careful. However, my entire being was screaming back at him without a sound being uttered. He gulped just a little as he realized he had treaded where he shouldn't.
"I'm sorry, Min. I – ah – well; you called her name out one night while you were unconscious. Just the way you were talking in your sleep I figured that she was someone…."
I interrupted him coolly, "Special?" I gulped, now, as I thought about her. I felt the lump again in my throat. But I could see the look of despair on my friend's face. He didn't know and he wasn't trying to pry. I realized that maybe sharing my soul just a little might be a good thing. I only hoped I could keep at bay the emotions that were starting to build up.
"Don't apologize, Don. You didn't know. Brandi was special. She was – my daughter. She died of leukemia when she was nine and that's when Jack left me. Then my sanity went south for a while." I swallowed back that lump, refusing it release. But I couldn't help the one tear that managed to elude my control. Blast it anyway, I seethed.
But for Don, I smiled weakly as I could see my words had deeply affected him. I was afraid he would try to say something reassuring but he didn't. All he did was nod and then take my hand in his out of compassion.
Out of all the cards, the casseroles that followed the funeral, and the kind words, Don's caring touch was the nicest thing anyone had done for me.
And he wasn't even human.
Says a lot for my own species, doesn't it?
*******
When I moved out of Don's room, he and his brothers set up a very private sleeping area for me that was situated on the other side of the bathroom. The bathroom was conveniently located between the subway cars and my new digs, allowing me access without having to walk past the turtles' bedrooms.
My alcove was probably about the size of my now defunct one room apartment, so it afforded me enough space to have my bed set up. I was impressed that they were able to get the mattress through the man-hole and wondered if maybe they had to fold it in some way. Once everything was up and 'running', I tested it out and found it as it was the last time I had slept on it. The only thing I lacked initially was a dresser for my clothes and adequate lighting. However, I didn't complain or say anything. I was overwhelmed that they would even allow me to stay in their lair.
When my sight finally returned to normal and I could see as well as before, the very first thing I had to get used to was Splinter. I was grateful that when we first met my eyes had been blindfolded; otherwise I probably would have given him as much chance as a snowball in…. well, I just wouldn't have.
Yes, Splinter was certainly a rat and a rather large one to say the least. However, despite the fact that my eyes were getting ever wider as I stared at him, he had the civility to have fixed me a cup of that wonderful lavender tea. He made sure he had it ready for me when I first laid eyes on him. Our conversations the first day he was alone with me had helped to overcome some of my fear, of course. But the tea was the kicker. I'm sure it had some medicinal attributes, one being it tended to calm me. By presenting me with yet another gracious cup of that nectar I believe Splinter was trying to create an association between him self and the tea. It made perfect psychological sense.
We tend to recover from stressful and fearful events when we can associate them with something pleasant. I believe Splinter was fully aware of this fact when he handed me that steaming cup of the fragrant liquid.
And, thankfully, it worked.
His 'sons' were busy elsewhere in the lair as he didn't want any distractions between our initial first meeting. I felt myself rather brave to sit there in his private car while he entertained me with the story that Mike had shared regarding their beginnings as mutants. Only Splinter added a few things that Mike either forgot or neglected to mention.
I found that there had been at least two other humans that were aware of my friends' existence. One was a reporter by the name of April. She had once been an assistant to a scientist. But when he went mad and was eventually locked up in the state asylum, April ended up working at a local television station as a receptionist. However, she had a nose for news and a good way to present information. So she was offered a small spot on the news reporting local events and crime. Before too long she was co-anchoring the late afternoon and evening news. It was by chance that she came to know the turtles. She benefited them in many ways and in other ways they did likewise for her.
The other human was a man named Casey Jones. Splinter told me that Casey used to play hockey years ago, but his career was cut short due to an injury. I used to follow ice hockey and was quite amused to discover that his name sounded very familiar to me.
"He had kind of a bad-boy image on the ice, if I recall correctly!" I commented, quite intrigued that someone I knew of knew my five friends.
"You can say that again, Min!" Raph shouted out to me. He wasn't anywhere near the car, but evidently his hearing was pretty sharp.
"Raphael, you will kindly ignore any and all conversations that take place between Mindy Johnson and me." Splinter admonished him. "And keep you focus on the task at hand."
The turtles were supposed to be cleaning up their lair. But I could tell that their eagerness for their chores was somewhat lack luster and more focused on what was taking place in the Tassel Room. I had to laugh; they did remind me of a bunch of teenagers doing their choirs but trying not to do them too quickly.
As we continued our conversation, I learned that April and Casey did eventually marry. They were living in Connecticut when she was given a chance to go overseas and do some international reporting for the station she worked for in New York. Splinter seemed rather sad as he told me. It had been about three years since they moved across the Atlantic. The couple had been back to the States maybe once since then and that was the last time they had seen them. Since the lair did not have an address it was virtually impossible for them to get mail. Their phone was tapped into a general phone line that ran between several businesses. Any international calls would become suspect. I could tell that my furry friend missed April and Casey's contribution to his small family unit. Out of reflex I patted his hand in compassion. He smiled at me.
"Thank you, Mindy Johnson, for your care. To have someone listen to me who is not under my mentoring is a treat. It has been too long for such pleasantries."
"Mentoring? Ah, I see." I began, "You teach the turtles things, then?" I asked him.
His eyes sparkled as if he knew something that he wasn't going to tell me. Splinter replied carefully, "I have taught my sons how to survive and to take what they learn of that to protect others. Like you. I have taught them honor and integrity and pride. Not haughty pride, though I do have my hands full with Raphael. Also I try to teach them kindness, too." He seemed to smile, though from my perspective it was more like a sneer.
I had a dog once that did that. Trixie would curl her upper lip whenever I'd get after her. I'm sure it was just an insecure reaction on her part, but it looked so much like a smile! It was the most comical thing to see.
But with Splinter I had to realize that laughing at his expense would be a rude and ungrateful thing to do. I kept my mirth in check.
My next question sat his whiskers down so flat I had all I could do to keep from laughing, "Did you also teach them ninjitsu?"
A sudden quiet fell so hard on the entire lair I thought for sure the world had ended.
"What? Did I say something wrong?" I asked my host.
A few throats cleared somewhere over by where the steps to the ladder were located. I heard an audible hushed "Hoo boy." from Mike and a groan from Leo - I think. It could have been Donny, but I know that Raph had just taken a rather large breath as if he were trying to prepare himself for something.
Finally Splinter replied softly with just a hint of irritation, "No, you did not say anything wrong but I believe I need to speak with my sons about what they talk about when we have visitors."
I started to laugh a little, saying, "Actually, Splinter, I was supposed to be asleep when Raph made a comment to Mike about being ninja. I had just woken up and heard them. It's not really their fault. Please don't get after them."
I was quite amused by Splinter's twitching whiskers and slightly lashing tail; clear indicators that he was somewhat unhappy with his 'sons'.
I had a feeling that there were four turtles that were going to be getting an ear full of Splinter's words of wisdom.
I also had a feeling that they already knew. I could hear an increase of activity outside the Tassel Room as the intensity of their cleaning picked up speed.
