"It's not a real shower, actually, but it's as good as one," Michelangelo said over his shoulder. "Donatello rigged it up for us several years back." He thought for a second. "You might want to go easy on it first. We've never had anyone your size in it before."

"No one as freakish big as me, ya mean?" Rocky had to bend his head down to get through the tunnel, which underscored his point.

"Heck, no one normal-sized even," said Michelangelo, not rising to the bait. "It's just us 'n' Splinter down here, and we're all pretty small." He stopped just past a side tunnel, then pointed inside it. "That's it."

Rocky ducked inside to peek around. Like most of the lair, it was poorly lit with a couple strings of small white Christmas lights, but there wasn't much to see, in any case. A largish bench took up one side of the tunnel. On the other side were six pegs, with towels on five of them. The rainwater rushing through the sewers sounded quite a bit louder, but he couldn't see anything that looked like a shower.

Pulling his head back into the main tunnel, Rocky looked at Michelangelo, confused. "Where?"

"Not there," said Michelangelo, pointing back into the tunnel. "Next one down."

Rocky stuck his head back inside and looked to the back of the little room. What he had originally thought was the back of the room was actually a black shower curtain. He walked back in, grabbed the curtain, pulled it aside, and stood staring in the low light. They had installed a metal grate right above a sluice. Rocky could hear (and, if he squinted hard, see) the rainwater rushing down below. There was a small railing around the grate, and up on the wall, a shower head with two levers next to it.

Turning back to look at Michelangelo, Rocky said, "Yous gotta be kiddin' me."

Michelangelo shrugged, and said (a bit loudly, to be heard over the water), "It works. 'f course, you better do what Splinter does."

Rocky walked back into the tunnel so he could hear better. "Say what?"

"Our water heater ain't that big. That's no biggie for me and the others - we can shower in a couple minutes flat. But Splinter's all furry, so it takes him longer. So he turns the water on, wets himself down, turns the water off, scrubs up, then turns the water back on to rinse off. That way, he don't get caught with cold water halfway through."

Blinking, Rocky looked back down the corridor towards the shower. Heck, a hot shower did sound good. He made a waving motion. "You get outta here. Don't wantcha gawkin' at me while I'm in da shower."

Michelangelo grinned crookedly. "No worries. Just toss your dirty clothes in the hall, and I'll wash 'em for you. Oh, and the orange towel in there's mine - go ahead and use that one." He waited a second for a response, but when Rocky walked into the shower room without a word, he shrugged and headed further down the hall to the laundry room. They had found a broken washer and dryer about a year back, and Donatello (naturally) had gotten them working again. Michelangelo sorted through the few dirty things that needed to get washed, trying to figure out what he might wash with Rocky's clothes. After a few seconds, he decided he should probably just wash them separately - they were pretty dirty, and might take more than one time through to get clean.

He glanced back into the hallway, but only saw Rocky's shirt on the floor. Hm, he's had plenty of time to get into the shower, thought Michelangelo. He walked back to the shower room and looked in. Rocky was sitting on the bench, leaning over his boots, grumbling. "Need some help?" Michelangelo asked.

Rocky glanced back up, obviously in a piss-poor mood. "Whadjawant? Hopin' f'r a peek?"

"Nah, just wonderin' what the hold-up is."

Stamping a foot slightly, Rocky said, "These stupid boots - that's what."

"Here, let me take a look." Michelangelo knelt down and examined the first boot. The lace was an almost hopeless tangle of knots, and soaking wet on top of that. After some pulling and tugging, Michelangelo finally managed to get the bootlace untied. "Whew - that's one." He loosened the laces, then lifted Rocky's foot and pulled slightly. The boot didn't budge, and Rocky uttered a quiet grunt. Confused, Michelangelo yanked harder. This time, the boot came off all the way, and Rocky grunted again. Michelangelo was about to reach for the other boot when he noticed Rocky's sock. It was almost completely blood-soaked, dry in some spots but other parts obviously still fresh.

"What the hell?"

"Don't worry 'bout it," muttered Rocky.

"Well, wash it off, and I'll send Splinter down with some medicine."

"Look, I said don't worry 'bout it," said Rocky, rather loudly.

Michelangelo considered. Sensei told me not to argue with him, but this isn't something that should be ignored. How can I get him to agree to it? "Look, this is the sewer. We got every disease on the planet roaming around here." He began tugging the knots out of the other boot. "You leave your foot like that, it'll get infected quicker'n anything. Trust me - you don't want to have Leo have to amputate your foot." He looked up at Rocky, tapping the boot. "Why you wearing these things anyway?"

"Da Shredder gave 'em to me."

Michelangelo waited to hear more, but there didn't appear to be any. "Well, they're messin' up your feet somethin' awful." He began pulling on the laces again. "You probably shouldn't wear them anymore."

"Well, what am I s'posed to wear, then?"

"Same thing as us." Michelangelo paused, stuck up his right foot, and wiggled his toes. "Nothing."

"What 'bout when it gets cold?"

"It's cool. We got socks 'n' sandals."

"Well, I don't, so it looks like I gotta wear the boots, huh?"

Michelangelo smiled to himself. Was I ever this annoying to Splinter? God, I hope not. "We made the socks and sandals, so we can make you some - no problem." He made one final pull, and the laces came free. "OK, hold tight now." He yanked the boot off, revealing a sock as bloody as the other one. He picked up the boots and stood up. "All right. Toss your socks into the hallway with the rest of your clothes. Can't guarantee how clean I'll get 'em, but I'll see what I can do."

Humming to himself, Michelangelo walked back to the main living area. He tossed the boots near the entry way, then took his place by the fire.

Donatello poured him a cup of tea. "How's he doing?"

"All right. Kinda touchy, like Raph in a bad mood." Raphael mock-punched him, and Michelangelo grinned.

"Excellent, my son," said Splinter with a smile. "We must all do our utmost make Rocksteady feel at home here."

"How come?" asked Raphael.

"It is my wish that we can bring Rocksteady back onto our side. Perhaps then he will prove a worthwhile ally."

"Ally?" repeated Donatello. "What...well, forgive me for asking, Sensei, but what sort of ally do you think he'll make?"

"That has yet to be determined, Donatello. But one can never have too many allies. Consider Mitake, April, Casey, Mondo. Allies can come in unexpected shapes and sizes."

"Before I forget, sensei," said Michelangelo. "Rocksteady's feet are all messed up from wearing those boots. Do you have enough herbs to get one of your poultices together?"

"I believe so." Splinter slowly got to his feet, and Leonardo half got up, as well.

"Did you need help, sensei?"

"Thank you, my son. If you will retrieve two bowls for me - the large white one, and the one I use to mix my medicine - that should be sufficient." Splinter turned to the others. "Donatello, Raphael. If you could work on a sleeping arrangement for Rocksteady?"

"We're on it," said Raphael, and Donatello nodded in agreement. Splinter half-bowed to them and made his way to his room, as Leonardo went into the kitchen. Donatello sat frowning for a second.

"Something wrong?" asked Michelangelo.

"It's...I dunno. Strange. It's like having the enemy over for dinner."

Raphael smirked as he got to his feet. "It's exactly like having the enemy over for dinner."

Donatello smiled back. "Yeah, I guess so."

"So...any ideas on the a bed for our honored guest?" Raphael held out his hand, and Donatello grabbed it, getting to his feet.

"Hm. You know where our old beds are?"

"The old rag ones?"

"Yeah."

"Sure," said Raphael uncertainly. "They're in that spare room past the laundry. But aren't those gonna be too small?"

Donatello nodded. "Yeah, but what if we tear off a side of two of them, and connect them?" He held up his hands to indicate their relative positions.

Raphael stared at Donatello's hands, then shrugged. "You're the planner of the group. Let's give it a whirl."

Splinter paused before the shower room entrance. "Rocksteady?" he said, somewhat loudly.

He heard some scuffling, and then Rocky saying, "Geez, doncha guys ever knock?"

Smiling apologetically, Splinter entered the room. Rocky had finished drying off, and had apparently quickly thrown on the sweatpants as Splinter had approached. "Perhaps we should, but there are a decided lack of doors here in the sewers." He knelt down on the floor in front of Rocky. Placing a green towel around his neck, he took the top off a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and then picked up the large white bowl. "If you will please sit down?" he asked, indicating the bench in front of him. Rocky complied, and Splinter lifted his pant legs slightly, examining his feet critically. "I will not lie to you, Rocky. This will most certainly hurt. Feel free to yell out, if you must, but please do not pull away." He lifted one of Rocky's feet over the large white bowl, and began pouring the alcohol over the foot.

"Jesus!" yelled Rocky. "Damn, that hurts!" He didn't pull away, but began breathing hard, almost growling.

"Yes, I apologize," said Splinter somewhat loudly, to be heard over Rocky's groans. He began rubbing the alcohol into his foot as he continued. "You apparently have been wearing those boots for some time. They must have been quite difficult to take off and put on each day."

"Yeah...grrr...well, I us'lly...just...left 'em on...at night."

"You kept them on at all times? A most unwise decision." He patted the foot dry with the towel around his neck, then picked up the other foot and began pouring the alcohol over it. "You must accept the fact that your feet are no longer human-shaped."

"Yeah," said Rocky, gritting his teeth. "I'm a freak now, just like you guys."

"Whether you call yourself a mutant or a freak is unimportant, Rocksteady. You are what you are. Forcing your feet into boots made for human feet will simply cause damage to your feet." Splinter moved the bowl and alcohol to the side, then grabbed the smaller bowl. "This is an herbal poultice - it should speed the healing." He began smearing the concoction onto the feet in front of him.

Rocky didn't know what an "herbal poultice" was, but he did now how it felt - extremely soothing. "Oooh," he said, almost involuntarily. "That feels good."

"Yes," said Splinter, smiling. "An added benefit." He quickly finished applying the poultice to both feet. "Keep your feet raised, please," he said, wiping his hands on the towel. Tearing the seal with his foreclaw, he unwrapped a packaged of gauze and began wrapping the feet.

Rocky stared, surprised at his agility. "Yer pretty good at that."

Splinter indicated his own bound foot. "I have had much practice."

"What happened?" Rocky snorted. "Wear the wrong size boots?"

"No," said Splinter, continuing with the wrapping. "I believe there was a...problem with my mutation. Ever since, this ankle has been rather weak. Keeping it bound gives it more stability." Splinter finished the first foot, tying a small bow at Rocky's large toe. He considered it for a second, then looked up at Rocky with an embarassed smile. "Whenever I had to wrap a wound on one of my sons, I would always end with a small bow. When they were little, I would tell them that it was a butterfly that would ensure that they would heal quickly."

"A butterfly? Cripes, I ain't a kid!"

"I know, but apparently old habits die hard. I put the bow on there without really thinking. If you'd like, I can remove it."

Rocky stared at it for a second, then waved it away. "Ah, forget it." He watched as Splinter opened another package of gauze, but he felt his eyelids getting heavy. Now that he'd had some food and a shower, he was getting really tired. He decided to talk to help keep himself awake. "How long you guys been down here?"

"It has not quite been seven years since we were mutated."

That couldn't be right. "You sayin' them kids is only seven?!"

Splinter smiled. "Not quite. When my sons were first mutated, they were like newborns. However, they very quickly learned to talk and walk. I am not entirely sure what their present ages are, but judging by their growth, temperment and , I would estimate that they are about equivalent to fifteen-year-old human." Splinter reached the end of Rocky's foot, and looked up. "Would you like a second butterfly?"

Rocky snorted. "Heck, may as well make 'em match." He put on the sweatshirt as he mulled that over. Fifteen? Well, it was embarassing to get his butt kicked by a bunch of teenagers, but it sure beat getting beat up by a bunch of seven-year-olds.

Splinter got to his feet, picked up the bowls and handed them to Rocky to carry back. "Please try to keep your feet dry as much as possible. And now, let us see if my sons have prepared your sleeping arrangements." He led the way back down the hall and brought him back into the main living area.

Michelangelo, looking up from assembling the tea cups on the tray, smiled at their approach. "Hey, he's back, rested and ready."

Raphael looked down and smirked. "And he's got butterflies."

Before Rocky could respond, Michelangelo said, loudly, "Hey, cool!" Leaning close to Rocky, he said, "Sometimes it's fun to get stuff like that."

Rocky wasn't exactly placated, but he simply growled, "Maybe when yer little."

"It has been a long evening, my sons," said Splinter, smiling and turning to each of them in turn. "Perhaps I should allow you to sleep a bit later tomorrow morning."

"Eight?" asked Michaelangelo, looking plaintive.

"Seven thirty?" asked Donatello, a bit more hopefully.

"Seven thirty," agreed Splinter. He turned to Rocksteady. "You no doubt have been deprived of good sleep as of late. You may sleep as long as you wish. Donatello, will you show him to his sleeping area?"

"Sure thing. This way." Donatello led Rocksteady back down the hallway, as Splinter turned to Raphael.

"My son, please be careful what you say to our guest."

Michelangelo, sensing a lecture, stole to the kitchen with the tray of teacups. Raphael held up his hands. "What? I didn't mean anything..."

"I know it was not your intention to poke fun at him. But in his current state, if there is any way he can intrepret our words as being mean or vindictive, he will do so. Please do your utmost to be extra kind to him." Raphael sighed, folded his hands, and bowed slightly. Splinter returned the bow, smiling slightly. "Thank you, my son."

Leonardo frowned a bit. "Sensei, what if he's...shamming?"

"Shamming?"

"Yeah. What if this was all an act, to get us to reveal our location?"

Splinter considered for a second. "Do you believe that Rocksteady is capable of such a facade? That he purposefully asked Raphael to kill him, hoping that he would instead invite him home?"

Leonardo frowned some more. "Well, when you put it that way..."

Raphael laughed and slapped Leonardo on the arm. "Don't worry about it, fearless leader. We all make mistakes."

"Indeed," agreed Splinter. "But you do well to question his motives." Turning back to Raphael, he added, "It was a bold step bringing him back here, Raphael."

"Hey, I knew if he started somethin', we could take him out."

"Most likely. But if he left, he could tell others of our location."

Raphael leaned against the wall and folded his arms. "Who would he tell? Shredder's dead, and that other mutant guy's in jail."

"Perhaps the other Foot soldiers."

"There ain't no other Foot soldiers anymore."

Splinter gazed at his disciple in silence for a second. "Let us hope that you are correct, my son." Raphael's eyes got a bit bigger, but he didn't move. Finally, Splinter said, "Enough talk for one evening. It is long past the time we ordinarily retire."

"G'night, sensei."

"Good night, my sons. Do not forget of my love for you."