A/N: Gonna jump around with the timeline a little bit starting in the middle of this chapter, but it shouldn't be too bad. Time is the same in the two worlds, but for storytelling purposes I'll be skipping ahead at different times between Don and the guys.
----
Don wished he could do something about the applause, but it seemed that everyone in the cafe was intent upon showing their appreciation toward him.
I haven't even done anything yet, he though dejectedly.
Ssylvar seemed to be enjoying the attention they were receiving, and was waving enthusiastically to everyone and saying things like, 'You're so kind, thank you so much,' and 'We really appreciate the praise. We couldn't do anything without your support.'
Donatello found it all rather revolting, and wished he could just crawl underneath the table until it was over. Thankfully, Ssylvar eventually seemed to tire of all the attention and dragged Don out of the cafe.
"Great, isn't it?" Ssylvar said once they were outside.
"Um...yeah," Don said, rubbing his arm where Ssylvar had grabbed him. Ssylvar began to walk, and Don could do nothing but follow him; he didn't feel comfortable walking around this place alone.
"So...how do you make me into this Siyem thing?" Don asked.
"There'll be a ceremony in about an hour, hopefully. Now that you've accepted the job, word will spread. Orgo's sending out message Xawks to all the other Reapers as we speak."
"Orgo?"
"The guy I talked to in the cafe."
"Ah, right." Don didn't really want to think about that guy, "Ok...um..message Xawks?" Don felt like he was playing the repeat game.
Ssylvar waved his hand dismissively, "Oh, those. Message Xawks are just little irritating birds that we use to, well, deliver messages. They can teleport to anywhere we ask them to go...though sometimes they can be stubborn. It may take a while for all of them to get their messages in about the ceremony."
So," Don said, trying to decide what he was most curious about, "What will this ceremony be like?"
Ssylvar grinned, "Can't tell you, top secret."
"Oh."
"Don't worry, you'll find out soon enough," Ssylvar clapped Don on the shoulder and continued to lead him down the busy street. Don was left to his thoughts, which were becoming rather worrysome.
----
It had been three days since Donatello's death, and even though things were not getting back to normal in the lair, at least the crying had abated. Splinter did his best to continue with his normal routine. Michelangelo spent most of his time either reading Don's journal or writing in his own. Leonardo and Raphael spent most of their time training, though their reasons were entirely different. Leo trained to free his mind, Raph trained to fuel his anger.
Raphael was determined to discover who had killed his brother, but he had no idea where to start. The only clues he did have were both vague and confusing. The bruises which had been around Don's throat were odd...Raph could have sworn he had seen claw marks. Stranger still had been the burn marks on Don's forearms and plastron. Raph had never seen anything like it, and that didn't help quell his anger.
He'd also been back to the alley several times, but he hadn't found anything helpful there either. Raph had no leads, no ideas, and no patience. He wanted revenge, and he wanted it now. He briefly thought about blaming the Foot for the murder, but it just wasn't their style. As much as he wanted to blame it on them, there was no way they would have strangled Don to death. His death would have been by blade.
Raphael shivered. No reason to think of other ways his brother could have died. One was bad enough.
On the other side of the room Leonardo was waging a mental battle of his own. He was practicing his katas, but he couldn't get his mind to focus. It just kept going back to Don. Leonardo was starting to blame himself for his brother's death.
Sure, he hadn't asked Don to fix that many things for him, but he hadn't stood up for him either. Leo didn't blame Raph for demanding things of Don...that's just how Raph was. He demanded things of everyone. Leo could have stood up for his passive brother, though. He could have talked him out of going out that night. But, he didn't. He just stayed in the other room and practiced.
Leo sighed and started his kata over. He'd messed it up again.
Michelangelo stopped writing and rubbed his face. He'd rewritten the same sentence ten times, but he just couldn't get it to sound right. He was becoming alarmingly anal in his writing, but Mike knew when enough was enough. His brain felt like someone had jabbed a hot poker into it. It was time for some coffee. He closed his journal and walked out of his bedroom. He passed by his brothers, taking a quick glance at each of them. Mike just didn't feel like practicing, though he knew that katas would probably clear his mind, as they were undoubtedly doing for Leo.
Mike continued into the kitchen, where he was surprised to find Splinter at the table with coffee already made. Mike grabbed a mug out of the cupboard, sat down across from his master, and poured himself a cup. Mike took as much time as he could adding cream and sugar, afraid to break the silence in the room. Finally, Splinter spoke, his voice soft.
"How are you, my son? We have not seen you much these last three days."
Michelangelo stared at his mug for a few moments before speaking, his eyes still cast downward. "I've been better, master, but I'm beginning to heal, I guess." He paused to take a drink, "I've decided to write a book."
Splinter raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. Michelangelo took another drink, still keeping his eyes down. "It's gonna be about Don's life...all the stuff he wrote about in his journal, and all the stuff I remember about him." Mike felt a tear roll down his cheek. Splinter's hand reached across the table and held onto his.
"It is a noble venture, my son. You cry now, but remembering your brother will one day bring you and the rest of us great joy."
Michelangelo looked up at his master. "It's hard, writing about him...especially since he's only been dead a few days. But...I feel like I need to start on this now...I...I don't know why. Though, I'm afraid that maybe I should just wait until the wound isn't so fresh.."
Splinter shook his head, "I think not. This book is as much about you as it is about Donatello. It will help you."
Michelangelo sighed and stared down at his coffee. Then, after a short pause, he chuckled. "You know, the hardest part has been trying to figure out what to do with all his technical stuff. I just don't get any of it." Mike looked up at his master, "I would hate to leave it out, but what am I supposed to say about 'marginal flux capacitational hoodwinkly googanation?'"
Splinter laughed heartily, the first time such a sound had been heard in the lair for three days. "You see, Michelangelo, you are already beginning to heal."
Mike smiled, "Yeah...I can't help it. I read that stuff and my brain just hears 'waw waw waw.'" He shrugged, "I'll do -something- with it. Maybe I'll make a technical section where I just quote it all. I know if I tried to figure it all out and write it myself I'd come up with an equation to destroy the world or something...Don would hate it if I did that."
"I imagine he would," Splinter said, the smile on his face fading slightly. Splinter realized then how much healing -he- had yet to do, "Though, perhaps you should add both, your interpretation and the real thing. -That- would be a good read. Hilarious, at least."
Mike frowned, but his eyes sparkled with mischief, "Hey! I'm not that bad! Some of that junk makes sense...like all the stuff about...um....yeah."
Splinter shook his head and stood up. "You are an inspiration to us all, my son, but don't hold it in if you really are upset. Grief is a wound that festers if not treated properly."
Mike nodded solemly, "I know, Master. I've never had any problem expressing my feelings."
"No, you certainly haven't."
----
This is weird, I don't like this....weird weird weird weird....
Donatello was standing inside of a large circle of bodies...creatures of so many shapes and sizes that Don felt disoriented and dizzy. This was to be his induction as Siyem, though as of yet nothing had actually happened. The most eventful moment so far was their arrival at this strange place. Ssylvar had grabbed Don's upper arm, and just as he had done when he'd brought Don to the Demon world, the lizard man waved his arm and the air in front of them had ripped apart. They had stepped through, Don a little reluctantly, and appeared in a vast, barren field, black rocks jutting up from the ground like so many crooked, rotten teeth.
Now, they were waiting. The only things to look at were the grotesque figures sitting in the circle around him, and Donatello didn't really want to see them. He reluctantly noticed that most of them chose to have wings, and many, including the woman closest to him, looked to have been in a fight with a cloud of razor blades. Don thought back to Orgo and wondered if these people looked this way to scare the dead people they were escorting. He didn't like that thought...death was scary enough.
Donatello could only assume that they were waiting for everyone to arrive. Affirming this notion was the grumble from Ssylvar that Shayl had better get her ass here.
Don waited, trying not to fidget with so many eyes on him. Finally the group let out a collective exclamation of disgust as a small figure, surprisingly human in appearance and clad in black (just like everyone else, including Don) came rushing into the circle.
Various scolding voices rang out:
"It's about time you got here, Shayl!"
"What happened, you get attacked by your Xawk?"
"Fall in another lava pit, girl?"
Don watched as the Reaper known as Shayl sat down gracefully, ignoring the snide comments of her peers with great dignity. The babble went on for a few minutes more, but then Ssylvar stood, his hands in the air for silence. Not one Reaper disobeyed.
"My friends, I'm so glad to see you all...those of you who are not bound by Messenger duty should be honored to be here. It's not every day we get to induct a new Siyem."
Don heard a few mumbles from the crowd, and he thought he saw the Reaper named Shayl roll her eyes. Don's heart began to pound with worry. Just then, Ssylvar grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. (Don was getting quite tired of Ssylvar grabbing him...he was forming a rather colorful bruise.)
"Messengers of Death, behold your new leader!" Ssylvar called out. An eerie silence followed his proclamation, but Ssylvar didn't appear shaken or surprised. "Now," he bellowed, rattling Don's bones after the deep silence, "Let us begin!"
Ssylvar released Don's arm and stepped back into the circle, sitting down cross-legged on the ground. Don remained standing; he wanted to run, but something....someONE was making him stay put. Donatello could feel the presence of a being...someone very powerful. The circle of Reapers began to chant.
The chanting was low and discordant. Don felt his flesh crawl as the nonsense words seemed to climb over his body and enter his skin. It was almost as if he could see the syllables coming out of the Reapers mouths. Then, suddenly, Don realized that he COULD see them...vaguely, at least. The chanting continued, becoming louder and more urgent. Don felt his body convulse, and he fell to his knees, completely unable to control himself. He began to shake, his hands clawing for purchase on the hard ground. Don could feel something surging into him, something he could not perceive visually. There was pain as well, but mostly, Don could feel himself growing...powerful.
Don became more coherent then, realizing what was happening to himself. He stood, controlling the shaking in his body. The chanting of the Reapers reached a fervent pitch, and Donatello became aware of the presence again, only this time, that someone was speaking to him.
[Hello, Donatello.]
"Who...what?" Don was no longer aware of the other Reapers. The could have been chanting limericks.
[My name is Gaia. You were told about me, yes?]
"Gaia...yes. Ssylvar told me about you."
[It is good to finally speak to you, my son.]
Don gave a shiver at her choice of words, "And you...ma'am." Don could feel something in his mind that could only be described as laughter.
[You do not need to call me that. Just use my name.]
"Ok...Gaia. Um...no problem." Donatello felt foolish.
Gaia projected the feeling of a smiling face to Donatello. [I do apologize for causing you so much distress,] she said [but I'm afraid there are certain events I have little control over. I hope you haven't had too much trouble adjusting?]
Don shook his head, belatedly wondering if Gaia could respond to nonverbals.
[I see the world through your eyes, Donatello. Everything that you do, I do as well. Ssylvar has grabbed your arm again. The ceremony is over.]
Don blinked and realized that, indeed he had been grabbed again. Frowning at the snake man, Don shook his arm free, realizing a moment later that he was actually strong enough to do it. Ssylvar's face flashed with a small frown, which immediately dissolved into a smile.
"Everyone," he called, "We have succeeded! The Siyem has made contact with Gaia." There was another eerie silence. Don wondered if anyone actually cared. "You may return to your homes," Ssylvar said, "I will begin training the new Siyem in our ways."
The sound of a throat being cleared pierced the silence. Ssylvar turned, the smile on his face turning into a frown when he saw that it was Shayl who wished to be heard. Don felt Gaia's presence stregnthen within him.
"What do you want?" Ssylvar asked irritably.
"I believe it is the job of the Wiyem to train him," she said, her voice smooth and quiet.
"The Wiyem! Ha!" Ssylvar sneered, "He won't, and you know it!"
Shayl shrugged, "Probably not. But, you must ask him, and if he refuses, the duty is mine."
Ssylvar made a rude guesture, "I don't think so, weak one. This Siyem will be trained by me."
"No, I won't." All eyes turned to Donatello, who blinked in mild alarm at the sudden scrutiny. He took a deep breath and spoke, "I won't be trained by you, Ssylvar. Gaia was kind enough to tell me," he peered around at everyone, "that you're trying to break the rules. I'm to be trained by the Wiyem, and if he won't do it, the task falls upon her shoulders," Don nodded toward Shayl. Don didn't know who or what the Wiyem was, but he knew that he didn't want Ssylvar training him.
Ssylvar snarled and pointed a scaly finger at Shayl, "You're nothing but a foolish child. What could you possibly teach to the most powerful Demon in the world?"
"Perhaps nothing, since we should ask the Wiyem about training him first." Shayl walked around the circle until she came to a tiny figure whom Donatello had not noticed before. "What say you, Wiyem?" Shayl knealt and spoke directly to the little man. Don could not see his face, which was concealed by a black cowl, "Will you train the Siyem?"
There was silence as the little man appeared to think over the question. Finally, just as feet had begun shuffling amongst the other Reapers, he raised his little hand. Don could see that his skin was rusty brown, his fingers craggy and clawed.
"My answer," croaked a voice from behind the hood, "Is no. I want nothing to do with you Messengers of Folly. Let Shayl's young mind deal with your filth."
The little man waved his craggy hand angrily, ripped open the air, and was gone.
"Well," Ssylvar said, clapping his hands together once, "Now that -that- unpleasantness is over with, Donatello and I shall take our leave, and the rest of you will return to your homes."
"I'm not 'taking my leave' with -you- Ssylvar," Don said, irritation evident in his voice.
Ssylvar frowned, "Don, listen. This is just a minor little rule. I could teach you so much more than that foolish girl over there."
Don shook his head, "I don't care what you say. Rules are rules. Now, everyone go home. -Shayl- and I will take our leave of you." Don walked over to the girl, doing his best to walk with authority. He actually felt rather stupid.
iIt's because Gaia is telling me what to say,/i he thought, knowing very well what he would have said without her help.
Ssylvar sighed and ripped open a portal, "Very well, Don. You're the boss, after all. Just make sure to look me up if you have any questions." And before Donatello could respond, Ssylvar had stepped through his portal and was gone.
The rest of the Reapers followed suit, and Don noticed that many of them had very sour looks on their faces. The knot in his stomach continued to increase.
Soon, it was only Donatello and Shayl standing in the barren field. An awkward silence fell over them, and it was Shayl who was the first to speak.
"Follow me," she said brusquely, opening a portal of her own. Don was pleased to note that she didn't grab his arm, instead guesturing him through the portal politely. Don nodded and stepped through, followed closely by Shayl. Don blinked as he stepped out of the portal...the light was much brighter, and he was temporarily blinded. When he regained his focus, he stared around himself in awe. They'd stepped into another field, though this one was far from barren. Rather, it was filled with knee-high grass, a golden sea rippling all the way to the horizon. Donatello stared, not noticing that his mouth was gaping.
"You look like a fish," Shayl said, her voice dripping with irritation. Don gave a start and shut his mouth, feeling stupid.
"Sorry," he said lamely, "This world is just so...amazing."
Shayl made a face and began walking away from him, toward a quaint little cottage that Don had not noticed before. She didn't slow her pace, assuming he would follow if he wished. Don took one more look at the sea of grass and hurried after her.
[Don't worry, Donatello. You'll learn to love this world.]
Don was startled by the voice of Gaia, but her words were soothing, and he felt a bit of his worry melt away. Shayl reached the cottage and opened the door. Don arrived a moment later.
"This is my home," she said, her voice flat, "I will teach you today how to teleport so I don't ever have to come and get you."
Don nodded, but a question rankled in his mind. He was about to ask Shayl when Gaia's voice rang through his mind.
[She wouldn't know the answer, I'm afraid. The reason I cannot train you is because, even though you are the most powerful Demon, my power is far greater. If I were to place knowledge into your mind, the migraine you would experience trying to retrieve it would be...unfathomable.]
Don grimaced, and then nodded. He would endure this dour woman's training, then. She guestured for him to enter, and he obeyed. The house was simple, sparsely decorated, but pleasant. Don appreciated the organized feeling of the space, despite the mess that he was apt to make in the spaces he frequented. He felt a pang of homesickness as he thought about his workroom and his lair. Naturally, his family entered his thoughts shortly after.
Shayl led him to a small table and pulled out a chair. Don sat, and Shayl followed suit by sitting across from him. She tapped on the table and two cups of coffee appeared. Don was proud of himself for not jumping out of his seat this time, but he still gave a bit of a start, and Shayl rolled her eyes.
"You'd better get used to that kind of stuff," she said, "Or you'll never learn how to do things that are actually difficult."
Donatello thought it a pity this girl was so sour. She was pretty, with long brown hair and a slender face, eyes almost black and skin pale and freckled. She was also apparently young, from what Ssylvar had said to her, though Don wasn't certain what 'young' meant in this place. He was probably considered very young himself, since he'd just died. He decided that perhaps she was sour because no one liked her...though he couldn't imagine why other than that she was sour...which didn't make sense at all. Don gave up on the notion, and wondered briefly if Gaia knew.
[I know much about life and death, but little about people. It is you who must teach me about the people of our world, just as every Siyem before you.]
iWell, that's a daunting task,/i Don thought.
[Indeed it is, but I have great faith in you. I chose you for a reason.]
Don felt a great sense of pride well up within him. It wasn't every day that the spirit of the world gave you a compliment. Suddenly, the sound of a throat clearing broke his reverie.
"Oh...um. Sorry.." He said, fidgeting.
"Your eyes were glazed over. Speaking to Gaia?"
Donatello nodded. Shayl gave a dismissive swipe of her hand. "You'll be able to chat with her plenty after this lesson."
Don wondered at this girl's gall. Weren't they all controlled by Gaia's power?
[Yes, but she has a right to choose how she feels about me. I don't mind.]
"So," Don said, "I was a little confused back there at that ceremony. What is the Wiyem, and why didn't he want to train me?"
Shayl frowned, "You acted like you knew back there."
"I was pretending. Gaia only told me that Ssylvar was trying to break the rules."
"She should have just told you the rest," Shayl said, clearly irritated.
[I don't want you to become too comfortable with my guidance, Donatello. I must not think for you.]
Don thought about that for a moment. He wished Gaia would give him all the answers, but apparently he must learn for himself...a notion that Don was quite used to.
"Well, she didn't," Don said, trying to sound irritated, "So...what is the Wiyem?"
Shayl sighed in frustration, "The Wiyem is the weakest Reaper...the only other one chosen by Gaia...though no one knows why."
"Oh..ok. Ssylvar told me about that."
Shayl wrinkled her face as if she had smelled something bad, "Don't listen to him. He may be powerful, but he's a fool."
Don chose not to comment on that. "So," he said, "Why didn't the Wiyem want to train me?"
"His reasons are his own," Shayl said.
"Ok..." Don could feel his frustration mounting, "So, why are you the one who is supposed to train me since he refused?"
"Surely you can guess."
"I'd rather not."
"I'm the -next- weakest Reaper...one above the Wiyem, but barely more powerful than a regular Demon." She sounded disgusted.
Don just shrugged, "I think I'd rather be in your position. I still can't hardly believe I'm the most powerful of all you people. It's just...not me."
Shayl looked at him carefully for a moment, and then shook her head, "You Siyem are all alike....none of you want the power. Gaia is truly wise."
Don didn't know how to comment on that, so he changed the subject. "So..." he said, "You're going to teach me how to rip a hole in reality? I'm rather curious about the technique behind such a feat...and perhaps even the science."
Shayl shook her head, "There is no science. It's magic."
Donatello frowned. "Magic? No...certainly not. Science may be advanced enough to appear as if it's magic, but only that."
"It's magic, period. So get it out of your head that it isn't or you'll never learn it." Shayl was frowning deeply.
iGaia?/i Don thought, iSurely this stuff isn't magic...?/i
[It is to some, but it -could- be science if anyone cared to understand it.]
Don thought that he would very much like to understand it. For now, however, he needed to simply learn how to do it.
"Ok Shayl," he said, "Teach me this thing."
Shayl nodded and proceeded to explain to Don the basics of teleporting. It all seemed rather simple: Think of a place, find its image within the essence of the Demon world (Don wasn't sure about that part), tear open Reality, and walk through. Shayl indicated that she wanted Don to try it, but to pick a place he had been to before. Don thought of the cafe. He could picture it in his mind, even down to the detail of the grotesque Orgo sitting at the bar. The next step was to tear open Reality. Here Don hesitated, but then he lifted his arm into the air as he had seen others do, and waved it about. Nothing happened.
"I don't get it," he said dejectedly.
"Did you think of a place and take it's image from the world?"
"Um...I didn't really do that second part. The image was already in my mind."
Shayl shook her head, "It doesn't work that way. You have to find the image from outside of yourself. That's what allows you to go places you've never been."
Don sighed and tried again. He pictured the cafe again, but this time he tried to find the image from...somewhere else. Nothing. He just didn't get it. Shayl sighed and guestured for him to try again.
This went on for two hours before Shayl called Don to a frustrated halt.
"This is rediculous," She said angrily, "You should have been able to do this on the first try."
"I'm sorry," Don said, frustration clearly evident in his voice, "I just don't get it. How about you teach me something else?"
Shayl sighed. "Ok, fine...I don't know what, though. This is just about the easiest thing I could teach you aside from making coffee appear..."
Don blinked and was silent for a few moments. He then shook his head and spoke, "Gaia says that you should teach me how to escort souls. She thinks I'll relate to that better....I guess because it just happened to me."
Shayl sighed, "Fine, whatever. Seems like a swell idea to go do the hardest thing when you can't even do the easiest."
Don shrugged, "Maybe she's right...who knows. Um...I have a question, though.."
"What?"
"Do I have to change my body and look all creepy like those other Reapers? I'm not keen on doing that."
Donatello was surprised to see the hint of a smile on Shayl's face.
"No," she said, "You don't have to do that. Almost everyone does, and I'm sure they all showed up like that to intimidate you," she shrugged, "I never chose a demon form. I think it's kind of stupid, actually."
Don's face brightened, "Really? I hadn't planned on doing it, but I was starting to feel like -everybody- did."
"Not everybody, but most. I -do- change my look around, my clothes mostly, depending on the kind of people I'm escorting."
"The kind of people?"
"Yeah. It's up to us to decide where to put the newly arrived dead. If the Messenger feels that the person lead a good life, he or she'll probably drop them off in Goodspeed. But, well...there's places to put bad people. Places that I'll have to show you if we do this lesson today."
Don swallowed nervously, "You mean, I'm gonna have to decide if someone had been a good or a bad person? What right do -I- have to do that?"
"A right given to you by Gaia. Don't worry, you'll know what each person deserves. You can't -help- but know." Shayl shook her head, "Come on...we might as well get on with this."
Don nodded reluctantly. His gut was twisting again; how could he judge a person, especially when he didn't even know them? He was beginning to feel very sorry for himself.
----
Don wished he could do something about the applause, but it seemed that everyone in the cafe was intent upon showing their appreciation toward him.
I haven't even done anything yet, he though dejectedly.
Ssylvar seemed to be enjoying the attention they were receiving, and was waving enthusiastically to everyone and saying things like, 'You're so kind, thank you so much,' and 'We really appreciate the praise. We couldn't do anything without your support.'
Donatello found it all rather revolting, and wished he could just crawl underneath the table until it was over. Thankfully, Ssylvar eventually seemed to tire of all the attention and dragged Don out of the cafe.
"Great, isn't it?" Ssylvar said once they were outside.
"Um...yeah," Don said, rubbing his arm where Ssylvar had grabbed him. Ssylvar began to walk, and Don could do nothing but follow him; he didn't feel comfortable walking around this place alone.
"So...how do you make me into this Siyem thing?" Don asked.
"There'll be a ceremony in about an hour, hopefully. Now that you've accepted the job, word will spread. Orgo's sending out message Xawks to all the other Reapers as we speak."
"Orgo?"
"The guy I talked to in the cafe."
"Ah, right." Don didn't really want to think about that guy, "Ok...um..message Xawks?" Don felt like he was playing the repeat game.
Ssylvar waved his hand dismissively, "Oh, those. Message Xawks are just little irritating birds that we use to, well, deliver messages. They can teleport to anywhere we ask them to go...though sometimes they can be stubborn. It may take a while for all of them to get their messages in about the ceremony."
So," Don said, trying to decide what he was most curious about, "What will this ceremony be like?"
Ssylvar grinned, "Can't tell you, top secret."
"Oh."
"Don't worry, you'll find out soon enough," Ssylvar clapped Don on the shoulder and continued to lead him down the busy street. Don was left to his thoughts, which were becoming rather worrysome.
----
It had been three days since Donatello's death, and even though things were not getting back to normal in the lair, at least the crying had abated. Splinter did his best to continue with his normal routine. Michelangelo spent most of his time either reading Don's journal or writing in his own. Leonardo and Raphael spent most of their time training, though their reasons were entirely different. Leo trained to free his mind, Raph trained to fuel his anger.
Raphael was determined to discover who had killed his brother, but he had no idea where to start. The only clues he did have were both vague and confusing. The bruises which had been around Don's throat were odd...Raph could have sworn he had seen claw marks. Stranger still had been the burn marks on Don's forearms and plastron. Raph had never seen anything like it, and that didn't help quell his anger.
He'd also been back to the alley several times, but he hadn't found anything helpful there either. Raph had no leads, no ideas, and no patience. He wanted revenge, and he wanted it now. He briefly thought about blaming the Foot for the murder, but it just wasn't their style. As much as he wanted to blame it on them, there was no way they would have strangled Don to death. His death would have been by blade.
Raphael shivered. No reason to think of other ways his brother could have died. One was bad enough.
On the other side of the room Leonardo was waging a mental battle of his own. He was practicing his katas, but he couldn't get his mind to focus. It just kept going back to Don. Leonardo was starting to blame himself for his brother's death.
Sure, he hadn't asked Don to fix that many things for him, but he hadn't stood up for him either. Leo didn't blame Raph for demanding things of Don...that's just how Raph was. He demanded things of everyone. Leo could have stood up for his passive brother, though. He could have talked him out of going out that night. But, he didn't. He just stayed in the other room and practiced.
Leo sighed and started his kata over. He'd messed it up again.
Michelangelo stopped writing and rubbed his face. He'd rewritten the same sentence ten times, but he just couldn't get it to sound right. He was becoming alarmingly anal in his writing, but Mike knew when enough was enough. His brain felt like someone had jabbed a hot poker into it. It was time for some coffee. He closed his journal and walked out of his bedroom. He passed by his brothers, taking a quick glance at each of them. Mike just didn't feel like practicing, though he knew that katas would probably clear his mind, as they were undoubtedly doing for Leo.
Mike continued into the kitchen, where he was surprised to find Splinter at the table with coffee already made. Mike grabbed a mug out of the cupboard, sat down across from his master, and poured himself a cup. Mike took as much time as he could adding cream and sugar, afraid to break the silence in the room. Finally, Splinter spoke, his voice soft.
"How are you, my son? We have not seen you much these last three days."
Michelangelo stared at his mug for a few moments before speaking, his eyes still cast downward. "I've been better, master, but I'm beginning to heal, I guess." He paused to take a drink, "I've decided to write a book."
Splinter raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. Michelangelo took another drink, still keeping his eyes down. "It's gonna be about Don's life...all the stuff he wrote about in his journal, and all the stuff I remember about him." Mike felt a tear roll down his cheek. Splinter's hand reached across the table and held onto his.
"It is a noble venture, my son. You cry now, but remembering your brother will one day bring you and the rest of us great joy."
Michelangelo looked up at his master. "It's hard, writing about him...especially since he's only been dead a few days. But...I feel like I need to start on this now...I...I don't know why. Though, I'm afraid that maybe I should just wait until the wound isn't so fresh.."
Splinter shook his head, "I think not. This book is as much about you as it is about Donatello. It will help you."
Michelangelo sighed and stared down at his coffee. Then, after a short pause, he chuckled. "You know, the hardest part has been trying to figure out what to do with all his technical stuff. I just don't get any of it." Mike looked up at his master, "I would hate to leave it out, but what am I supposed to say about 'marginal flux capacitational hoodwinkly googanation?'"
Splinter laughed heartily, the first time such a sound had been heard in the lair for three days. "You see, Michelangelo, you are already beginning to heal."
Mike smiled, "Yeah...I can't help it. I read that stuff and my brain just hears 'waw waw waw.'" He shrugged, "I'll do -something- with it. Maybe I'll make a technical section where I just quote it all. I know if I tried to figure it all out and write it myself I'd come up with an equation to destroy the world or something...Don would hate it if I did that."
"I imagine he would," Splinter said, the smile on his face fading slightly. Splinter realized then how much healing -he- had yet to do, "Though, perhaps you should add both, your interpretation and the real thing. -That- would be a good read. Hilarious, at least."
Mike frowned, but his eyes sparkled with mischief, "Hey! I'm not that bad! Some of that junk makes sense...like all the stuff about...um....yeah."
Splinter shook his head and stood up. "You are an inspiration to us all, my son, but don't hold it in if you really are upset. Grief is a wound that festers if not treated properly."
Mike nodded solemly, "I know, Master. I've never had any problem expressing my feelings."
"No, you certainly haven't."
----
This is weird, I don't like this....weird weird weird weird....
Donatello was standing inside of a large circle of bodies...creatures of so many shapes and sizes that Don felt disoriented and dizzy. This was to be his induction as Siyem, though as of yet nothing had actually happened. The most eventful moment so far was their arrival at this strange place. Ssylvar had grabbed Don's upper arm, and just as he had done when he'd brought Don to the Demon world, the lizard man waved his arm and the air in front of them had ripped apart. They had stepped through, Don a little reluctantly, and appeared in a vast, barren field, black rocks jutting up from the ground like so many crooked, rotten teeth.
Now, they were waiting. The only things to look at were the grotesque figures sitting in the circle around him, and Donatello didn't really want to see them. He reluctantly noticed that most of them chose to have wings, and many, including the woman closest to him, looked to have been in a fight with a cloud of razor blades. Don thought back to Orgo and wondered if these people looked this way to scare the dead people they were escorting. He didn't like that thought...death was scary enough.
Donatello could only assume that they were waiting for everyone to arrive. Affirming this notion was the grumble from Ssylvar that Shayl had better get her ass here.
Don waited, trying not to fidget with so many eyes on him. Finally the group let out a collective exclamation of disgust as a small figure, surprisingly human in appearance and clad in black (just like everyone else, including Don) came rushing into the circle.
Various scolding voices rang out:
"It's about time you got here, Shayl!"
"What happened, you get attacked by your Xawk?"
"Fall in another lava pit, girl?"
Don watched as the Reaper known as Shayl sat down gracefully, ignoring the snide comments of her peers with great dignity. The babble went on for a few minutes more, but then Ssylvar stood, his hands in the air for silence. Not one Reaper disobeyed.
"My friends, I'm so glad to see you all...those of you who are not bound by Messenger duty should be honored to be here. It's not every day we get to induct a new Siyem."
Don heard a few mumbles from the crowd, and he thought he saw the Reaper named Shayl roll her eyes. Don's heart began to pound with worry. Just then, Ssylvar grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. (Don was getting quite tired of Ssylvar grabbing him...he was forming a rather colorful bruise.)
"Messengers of Death, behold your new leader!" Ssylvar called out. An eerie silence followed his proclamation, but Ssylvar didn't appear shaken or surprised. "Now," he bellowed, rattling Don's bones after the deep silence, "Let us begin!"
Ssylvar released Don's arm and stepped back into the circle, sitting down cross-legged on the ground. Don remained standing; he wanted to run, but something....someONE was making him stay put. Donatello could feel the presence of a being...someone very powerful. The circle of Reapers began to chant.
The chanting was low and discordant. Don felt his flesh crawl as the nonsense words seemed to climb over his body and enter his skin. It was almost as if he could see the syllables coming out of the Reapers mouths. Then, suddenly, Don realized that he COULD see them...vaguely, at least. The chanting continued, becoming louder and more urgent. Don felt his body convulse, and he fell to his knees, completely unable to control himself. He began to shake, his hands clawing for purchase on the hard ground. Don could feel something surging into him, something he could not perceive visually. There was pain as well, but mostly, Don could feel himself growing...powerful.
Don became more coherent then, realizing what was happening to himself. He stood, controlling the shaking in his body. The chanting of the Reapers reached a fervent pitch, and Donatello became aware of the presence again, only this time, that someone was speaking to him.
[Hello, Donatello.]
"Who...what?" Don was no longer aware of the other Reapers. The could have been chanting limericks.
[My name is Gaia. You were told about me, yes?]
"Gaia...yes. Ssylvar told me about you."
[It is good to finally speak to you, my son.]
Don gave a shiver at her choice of words, "And you...ma'am." Don could feel something in his mind that could only be described as laughter.
[You do not need to call me that. Just use my name.]
"Ok...Gaia. Um...no problem." Donatello felt foolish.
Gaia projected the feeling of a smiling face to Donatello. [I do apologize for causing you so much distress,] she said [but I'm afraid there are certain events I have little control over. I hope you haven't had too much trouble adjusting?]
Don shook his head, belatedly wondering if Gaia could respond to nonverbals.
[I see the world through your eyes, Donatello. Everything that you do, I do as well. Ssylvar has grabbed your arm again. The ceremony is over.]
Don blinked and realized that, indeed he had been grabbed again. Frowning at the snake man, Don shook his arm free, realizing a moment later that he was actually strong enough to do it. Ssylvar's face flashed with a small frown, which immediately dissolved into a smile.
"Everyone," he called, "We have succeeded! The Siyem has made contact with Gaia." There was another eerie silence. Don wondered if anyone actually cared. "You may return to your homes," Ssylvar said, "I will begin training the new Siyem in our ways."
The sound of a throat being cleared pierced the silence. Ssylvar turned, the smile on his face turning into a frown when he saw that it was Shayl who wished to be heard. Don felt Gaia's presence stregnthen within him.
"What do you want?" Ssylvar asked irritably.
"I believe it is the job of the Wiyem to train him," she said, her voice smooth and quiet.
"The Wiyem! Ha!" Ssylvar sneered, "He won't, and you know it!"
Shayl shrugged, "Probably not. But, you must ask him, and if he refuses, the duty is mine."
Ssylvar made a rude guesture, "I don't think so, weak one. This Siyem will be trained by me."
"No, I won't." All eyes turned to Donatello, who blinked in mild alarm at the sudden scrutiny. He took a deep breath and spoke, "I won't be trained by you, Ssylvar. Gaia was kind enough to tell me," he peered around at everyone, "that you're trying to break the rules. I'm to be trained by the Wiyem, and if he won't do it, the task falls upon her shoulders," Don nodded toward Shayl. Don didn't know who or what the Wiyem was, but he knew that he didn't want Ssylvar training him.
Ssylvar snarled and pointed a scaly finger at Shayl, "You're nothing but a foolish child. What could you possibly teach to the most powerful Demon in the world?"
"Perhaps nothing, since we should ask the Wiyem about training him first." Shayl walked around the circle until she came to a tiny figure whom Donatello had not noticed before. "What say you, Wiyem?" Shayl knealt and spoke directly to the little man. Don could not see his face, which was concealed by a black cowl, "Will you train the Siyem?"
There was silence as the little man appeared to think over the question. Finally, just as feet had begun shuffling amongst the other Reapers, he raised his little hand. Don could see that his skin was rusty brown, his fingers craggy and clawed.
"My answer," croaked a voice from behind the hood, "Is no. I want nothing to do with you Messengers of Folly. Let Shayl's young mind deal with your filth."
The little man waved his craggy hand angrily, ripped open the air, and was gone.
"Well," Ssylvar said, clapping his hands together once, "Now that -that- unpleasantness is over with, Donatello and I shall take our leave, and the rest of you will return to your homes."
"I'm not 'taking my leave' with -you- Ssylvar," Don said, irritation evident in his voice.
Ssylvar frowned, "Don, listen. This is just a minor little rule. I could teach you so much more than that foolish girl over there."
Don shook his head, "I don't care what you say. Rules are rules. Now, everyone go home. -Shayl- and I will take our leave of you." Don walked over to the girl, doing his best to walk with authority. He actually felt rather stupid.
iIt's because Gaia is telling me what to say,/i he thought, knowing very well what he would have said without her help.
Ssylvar sighed and ripped open a portal, "Very well, Don. You're the boss, after all. Just make sure to look me up if you have any questions." And before Donatello could respond, Ssylvar had stepped through his portal and was gone.
The rest of the Reapers followed suit, and Don noticed that many of them had very sour looks on their faces. The knot in his stomach continued to increase.
Soon, it was only Donatello and Shayl standing in the barren field. An awkward silence fell over them, and it was Shayl who was the first to speak.
"Follow me," she said brusquely, opening a portal of her own. Don was pleased to note that she didn't grab his arm, instead guesturing him through the portal politely. Don nodded and stepped through, followed closely by Shayl. Don blinked as he stepped out of the portal...the light was much brighter, and he was temporarily blinded. When he regained his focus, he stared around himself in awe. They'd stepped into another field, though this one was far from barren. Rather, it was filled with knee-high grass, a golden sea rippling all the way to the horizon. Donatello stared, not noticing that his mouth was gaping.
"You look like a fish," Shayl said, her voice dripping with irritation. Don gave a start and shut his mouth, feeling stupid.
"Sorry," he said lamely, "This world is just so...amazing."
Shayl made a face and began walking away from him, toward a quaint little cottage that Don had not noticed before. She didn't slow her pace, assuming he would follow if he wished. Don took one more look at the sea of grass and hurried after her.
[Don't worry, Donatello. You'll learn to love this world.]
Don was startled by the voice of Gaia, but her words were soothing, and he felt a bit of his worry melt away. Shayl reached the cottage and opened the door. Don arrived a moment later.
"This is my home," she said, her voice flat, "I will teach you today how to teleport so I don't ever have to come and get you."
Don nodded, but a question rankled in his mind. He was about to ask Shayl when Gaia's voice rang through his mind.
[She wouldn't know the answer, I'm afraid. The reason I cannot train you is because, even though you are the most powerful Demon, my power is far greater. If I were to place knowledge into your mind, the migraine you would experience trying to retrieve it would be...unfathomable.]
Don grimaced, and then nodded. He would endure this dour woman's training, then. She guestured for him to enter, and he obeyed. The house was simple, sparsely decorated, but pleasant. Don appreciated the organized feeling of the space, despite the mess that he was apt to make in the spaces he frequented. He felt a pang of homesickness as he thought about his workroom and his lair. Naturally, his family entered his thoughts shortly after.
Shayl led him to a small table and pulled out a chair. Don sat, and Shayl followed suit by sitting across from him. She tapped on the table and two cups of coffee appeared. Don was proud of himself for not jumping out of his seat this time, but he still gave a bit of a start, and Shayl rolled her eyes.
"You'd better get used to that kind of stuff," she said, "Or you'll never learn how to do things that are actually difficult."
Donatello thought it a pity this girl was so sour. She was pretty, with long brown hair and a slender face, eyes almost black and skin pale and freckled. She was also apparently young, from what Ssylvar had said to her, though Don wasn't certain what 'young' meant in this place. He was probably considered very young himself, since he'd just died. He decided that perhaps she was sour because no one liked her...though he couldn't imagine why other than that she was sour...which didn't make sense at all. Don gave up on the notion, and wondered briefly if Gaia knew.
[I know much about life and death, but little about people. It is you who must teach me about the people of our world, just as every Siyem before you.]
iWell, that's a daunting task,/i Don thought.
[Indeed it is, but I have great faith in you. I chose you for a reason.]
Don felt a great sense of pride well up within him. It wasn't every day that the spirit of the world gave you a compliment. Suddenly, the sound of a throat clearing broke his reverie.
"Oh...um. Sorry.." He said, fidgeting.
"Your eyes were glazed over. Speaking to Gaia?"
Donatello nodded. Shayl gave a dismissive swipe of her hand. "You'll be able to chat with her plenty after this lesson."
Don wondered at this girl's gall. Weren't they all controlled by Gaia's power?
[Yes, but she has a right to choose how she feels about me. I don't mind.]
"So," Don said, "I was a little confused back there at that ceremony. What is the Wiyem, and why didn't he want to train me?"
Shayl frowned, "You acted like you knew back there."
"I was pretending. Gaia only told me that Ssylvar was trying to break the rules."
"She should have just told you the rest," Shayl said, clearly irritated.
[I don't want you to become too comfortable with my guidance, Donatello. I must not think for you.]
Don thought about that for a moment. He wished Gaia would give him all the answers, but apparently he must learn for himself...a notion that Don was quite used to.
"Well, she didn't," Don said, trying to sound irritated, "So...what is the Wiyem?"
Shayl sighed in frustration, "The Wiyem is the weakest Reaper...the only other one chosen by Gaia...though no one knows why."
"Oh..ok. Ssylvar told me about that."
Shayl wrinkled her face as if she had smelled something bad, "Don't listen to him. He may be powerful, but he's a fool."
Don chose not to comment on that. "So," he said, "Why didn't the Wiyem want to train me?"
"His reasons are his own," Shayl said.
"Ok..." Don could feel his frustration mounting, "So, why are you the one who is supposed to train me since he refused?"
"Surely you can guess."
"I'd rather not."
"I'm the -next- weakest Reaper...one above the Wiyem, but barely more powerful than a regular Demon." She sounded disgusted.
Don just shrugged, "I think I'd rather be in your position. I still can't hardly believe I'm the most powerful of all you people. It's just...not me."
Shayl looked at him carefully for a moment, and then shook her head, "You Siyem are all alike....none of you want the power. Gaia is truly wise."
Don didn't know how to comment on that, so he changed the subject. "So..." he said, "You're going to teach me how to rip a hole in reality? I'm rather curious about the technique behind such a feat...and perhaps even the science."
Shayl shook her head, "There is no science. It's magic."
Donatello frowned. "Magic? No...certainly not. Science may be advanced enough to appear as if it's magic, but only that."
"It's magic, period. So get it out of your head that it isn't or you'll never learn it." Shayl was frowning deeply.
iGaia?/i Don thought, iSurely this stuff isn't magic...?/i
[It is to some, but it -could- be science if anyone cared to understand it.]
Don thought that he would very much like to understand it. For now, however, he needed to simply learn how to do it.
"Ok Shayl," he said, "Teach me this thing."
Shayl nodded and proceeded to explain to Don the basics of teleporting. It all seemed rather simple: Think of a place, find its image within the essence of the Demon world (Don wasn't sure about that part), tear open Reality, and walk through. Shayl indicated that she wanted Don to try it, but to pick a place he had been to before. Don thought of the cafe. He could picture it in his mind, even down to the detail of the grotesque Orgo sitting at the bar. The next step was to tear open Reality. Here Don hesitated, but then he lifted his arm into the air as he had seen others do, and waved it about. Nothing happened.
"I don't get it," he said dejectedly.
"Did you think of a place and take it's image from the world?"
"Um...I didn't really do that second part. The image was already in my mind."
Shayl shook her head, "It doesn't work that way. You have to find the image from outside of yourself. That's what allows you to go places you've never been."
Don sighed and tried again. He pictured the cafe again, but this time he tried to find the image from...somewhere else. Nothing. He just didn't get it. Shayl sighed and guestured for him to try again.
This went on for two hours before Shayl called Don to a frustrated halt.
"This is rediculous," She said angrily, "You should have been able to do this on the first try."
"I'm sorry," Don said, frustration clearly evident in his voice, "I just don't get it. How about you teach me something else?"
Shayl sighed. "Ok, fine...I don't know what, though. This is just about the easiest thing I could teach you aside from making coffee appear..."
Don blinked and was silent for a few moments. He then shook his head and spoke, "Gaia says that you should teach me how to escort souls. She thinks I'll relate to that better....I guess because it just happened to me."
Shayl sighed, "Fine, whatever. Seems like a swell idea to go do the hardest thing when you can't even do the easiest."
Don shrugged, "Maybe she's right...who knows. Um...I have a question, though.."
"What?"
"Do I have to change my body and look all creepy like those other Reapers? I'm not keen on doing that."
Donatello was surprised to see the hint of a smile on Shayl's face.
"No," she said, "You don't have to do that. Almost everyone does, and I'm sure they all showed up like that to intimidate you," she shrugged, "I never chose a demon form. I think it's kind of stupid, actually."
Don's face brightened, "Really? I hadn't planned on doing it, but I was starting to feel like -everybody- did."
"Not everybody, but most. I -do- change my look around, my clothes mostly, depending on the kind of people I'm escorting."
"The kind of people?"
"Yeah. It's up to us to decide where to put the newly arrived dead. If the Messenger feels that the person lead a good life, he or she'll probably drop them off in Goodspeed. But, well...there's places to put bad people. Places that I'll have to show you if we do this lesson today."
Don swallowed nervously, "You mean, I'm gonna have to decide if someone had been a good or a bad person? What right do -I- have to do that?"
"A right given to you by Gaia. Don't worry, you'll know what each person deserves. You can't -help- but know." Shayl shook her head, "Come on...we might as well get on with this."
Don nodded reluctantly. His gut was twisting again; how could he judge a person, especially when he didn't even know them? He was beginning to feel very sorry for himself.