Disclaimer: I don't own the turtles, I just play with them.
Before the fic Author's Notes:
For those of you who just can't STAND to wait for the next chapter, I've created a LiveJournal to post update news, behind the scenes stuff, and anything related to the Misadventures Universe that I think might be interesting. It may also include short stories about Austin's past that aren't particularly relevant to the current storyline, and don't contain turtles. Anyone interested cango to my authorpage and there's a link to the LiveJournal there. The user name is austinbridger.
FunFact:The relationship between Devon and Jason began as such. Jason was a guest lecturer at Devon's college. They met, went out for dinner, had some drinks, and fell in love. Jason had a house in California, AND one in Ohio. He was a bit of a sugar-daddy. –grin- But very down-to-earth, and just a great guy all-around. Devon was 22, and Jason was 35 when they kidnapped Austin and took her to California. They'd been in a relationship for 2 years at that time.
Misadventures of the Mentally Unstable
Chapter 5
Italics Austin's thoughts or flashback
"I don't want to go!"
"Honey, it's for the best. Dr. Adair can help you."
"I don't need help! There's nothing wrong with me!"
"Austin, we've gone to four different therapists in the last two years. They all say-"
"I don't CARE what they say. They're wrong! I'm not crazy!"
Austin's mother sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, willing away the headache she knew was coming on. "Your brother is dead, Austin."
"I know, I SAW it happen, Terri! Or have you forgotten already! Do you even care that he's gone?" At nine years old, Austin was surprisingly astute. She always seemed to know things that should have been beyond her maturity. Unfortunately, she was also surprisingly cynical, although her mother really couldn't blame her for that. The little girl had been through hell.
When Austin had been returned to her mother and father two years earlier, she wasn't the little angel they'd known. She was detached, cool. Almost unfriendly. And Terri and Bill Bridger were no longer 'mommy' and 'daddy'. They were simply, Terri and Bill. There had been no funeral for Devon in Ohio. Bill had forbidden it. Somewhere in California there was a ceremony and a headstone for Devon, but Austin hadn't been allowed to attend. The psychiatrists said that had been a mistake. If Austin had had closure, then perhaps she wouldn't have to create an imaginary friend. A friend whom she insisted was really her brother's ghost, come back to keep her company. Yet Bill would not yield and refused to allow his daughter to travel back to California where Jason had buried his partner.
Terri and Bill hadn't realized anything was wrong at first. Or perhaps, tried not to see what was obviously right in front of them. Their daughter was closed off, and unwilling to even talk to them, but Bill had dismissed it, saying it was just a phase. That she'd grow out of it in time. But then they started hearing her at night… talking to someone who wasn't there. When they finally confronted her about it, she told them simply, Devon's ghost was back and watching over her, and they'd be together forever. She didn't need anyone besides him. It had taken a lot of convincing, but finally Bill had agreed that his daughter needed counseling to deal with her brother's death. Four therapists later though, it was clear that something was terribly wrong. It had been at the back of Terri's mind. She knew something wasn't quite right with her daughter, something that went beyond normal schizophrenia. Austin knew things. Things she shouldn't know. Events that had happened before Austin was even born. Of course, Terri didn't believe in ghosts. There was no such thing. But Austin's mind clearly wasn't right. And it wasn't just the ghost. Every time a child in her class had a birthday, Austin had to be kept at home for fear she'd scream and lash out at someone if they brought so much as a cupcake in the room. Something had to be done. And when Bill had received a call from Dr. Adair, they thought their prayers had been answered.
Dr. Adair specialized in cases like Austin's, he had said. He ran a school in Washington. Well, it was half school, half hospital. A hospital for children with certain mental problems, and he'd be more than willing to take Austin as a patient. He'd heard about her case through a colleague that had just happened to have been Austin's third therapist. "It's a wonderful place. Full educational opportunities, while at the same time providing the psychiatric help the students need. I can send you a brochure if you like." And the brochure had indeed looked marvelous. A gorgeous historic hospital setting, surrounded by gardens and stone walls. And beyond the stone walls, hundreds of acres of forest. It was very private. And the best place for a girl like Austin.
"It looks expensive…" Terri had said.
"Oh, no." Dr. Adair had assured her politely. "Because of your daughter's history, and current mental state, she qualifies for a special program. All her expenses will be paid for. There's no worry on your part. And you can visit her anytime you wish, as long as you give us 24-hour notice. As you can imagine, we're a rather secluded facility. A day's notice will give us time to set you up with a room here for as long as you'd like to visit."
How could the Bridgers say no to an offer like that?
Terri now ignored the accusation her daughter had thrown in her face. "You're going to the Greensage Institute, and that's final!"
The little girl in front of her narrowed her eyes. If looks could kill, there wouldn't be anyone left in the state of Ohio. "I won't go. You can't make me."
But they could. And they did.
I don't have panic attacks very often. In fact, I haven't had one in three years. But the one this afternoon was bad. Things just seemed to come crashing down on me. But the one thing that hadn't changed was that the attack made me very tired. Yah, I know I'd slept through the previous night, and most of the morning. But the attack seemed to take what little energy I'd had and suck it right out of me. My head still hurt like a bitch, and thanks to the absolutely delightful and charming turtle known as Raphael, my body was well on it's way to joining the aforementioned head. If anyone ever has the chance to get tackled by a man-sized turtle running twice as fast as you are, I wouldn't recommend it. Just jump in front of an oncoming train instead. It will achieve the same effect, and will hurt a lot less.
Leonardo had come to check on me at some point. I think. I had a vague memory of one of the guys gently touching my shoulder, whispering my name, and asking if I was doing all right. A mumbled 'bugger off' and a politely raised middle finger told him I was in fact, not doing all right and just wanted to sleep. He let me sleep. When I finally did wake up, it was one-thirty in the morning. I know because there was a dimly lit clock on the wall above the computers in the lab on the other side of the curtain from where I woke up. Devon was no where to be seen. He must be pissed at me because I was pissed at him. I don't blame him. Well, actually, yah I do. I blame him for a lot of things. But dammit, he's my brother, and I do love him.
"Devon?" I whispered softly. Hmmm… no response. Oh well, he'd be back soon. Devon was kind of like a cat. He'd get pissed at you, run off, then come back in a few hours wanting attention and saying he forgave you for being mad at him.
I fumbled around until I found a light switch. It was a dimmer, thank god. I think my eyes would have popped out and exploded if I'd have to face full-florescent lighting right about now. Once I had the room lit enough to look around, I noticed a small pile of clothes on the table next to the bed. Picking the clothes up I read the note that was sitting on top of them.
Austin,
These are some clean clothes that our friend April left here. Hopefully they'll fit; she had to guess at your size. Try to rest. We'll take you home tomorrow.
-Donatello
Looking down at myself, I realized how dirty I was for the first time since I'd arrived. There were mud and water stains covering my jeans, and a couple tears as well. My nicest pair of jeans, and they were completely ruined. Damn, I'd just bought them last month, and it wasn't like I had money to spare. My shirt… I wanted to cry. Gazing at the once beautiful crushed velvet ivory blouse, I cringed. There were dark brown stains on the left side of my chest, and I'm sure it was dried blood from my head. And other stains from god knows what when Raph tackled me. With a shudder, I ripped the shirt off. My disappointment only increased when I realized my pretty white lace bra, the one I'd bought especially for my fun little night out on the town, was also stained with the rusty brown taint of blood. Now, here was a dilemma. I looked down at my bra, then to the white t-shirt lying on the bed with the words "Computer Geeks do it online" written in bright flashy colors. After a few moments of nervous indecision, I finally tore the bra off as well and flung it over by the blouse. Just having it nearby made me uncomfortable. I really needed to get over it someday, but I just don't like blood.
I pulled the shirt on. Looking down, I just told myself that if I kept my arms crossed over my chest until they took me home, they'd never even notice I wasn't wearing a bra. On to the jeans. Wow. The jeans. Ok, obviously this April person is hell of a lot skinnier than me. I tugged and pulled and sucked in my tummy, but damned if I could get those babies on. With a frustrated grunt, I laid down on the bed, pulled my stomach flat and finally managed to get them zipped up. Wow. Talk about painted on jeans. I ran a hand over my backside. Damn, I could bounce a dime off my ass, they were so tight. That's ok; I didn't really need to breathe. If I hadn't been wearing a thong, you could have seen the lines of my underwear. Part of me was proud that I'd been able to squeeze into the jeans. The rest of me was trying not to pass out from lack of oxygen. I tried to look at my ass over my shoulder, and started to giggle when Sir Mix-A-Lot popped into my head. I've never been particularly shy about my body. I feel all men should worship me for the goddess that I am. Literally. You know those little goddess pendants with the big hips and bosoms? Those are me. Ok, so I don't have a lot of shame, I just try not to let it show around people I've just met. No need to alienate myself more than I already do.
I bent over then squatted a little, trying to work out the stiffness in my muscles as well as in the jeans. When I was satisfied that I'd be able to function without any major difficulties, like muscle cramps or split seams, I quietly made my way out of the lab. From the looks of things, everyone was asleep. This was slightly surprising, because I know I wouldn't trust a sleeping stranger in my apartment. I'd be watching them like a hawk until they left. But then again, I'm paranoid as hell. The turtles probably had just expected me to sleep through the night.
But I was up and I was bored. I didn't want to go back and sleep more, because my head was finally feeling better. The hangover was gone, and I was wide awake. It would be impolite to wake them up this early in the morning just to ask them to take me home, so I'd just have to wait. I managed to find my way to the couch without tripping over anything in the near darkness. This in itself is an amazing feat, since I'm one of the clumsiest persons I know. There was snoring coming from somewhere and I wondered who it was. Probably Raph, I told myself. Because he's an ass. It seemed like a good enough reason for me, so I smiled smugly. Hey, a cheap shot is a terrible thing to waste.
I idly hummed to myself and tapped my fingers on my knees. Wow. This was exciting. My eyes gradually adjusted to the dark, and I finally noticed a remote control sitting on the coffee table in front of me. And there was a TV across from me. I looked between the two objects and finally managed to put two and two together and get late night TV programming.
Luckily, the volume wasn't up too loud when I eventually found the power button. Just to be on the safe side, I turned it down a little though. As I sat casually flipping through the channels I became aware of a painfully obvious fact. Late night TV is crap. My choices seemed rather limited. Dancing dogs; Made-for-TV movie, Infomercial, Infomercial, Infomercial, oh- late night news. This might be interesting.
"And New York City welcomes home Senator Carmine and his wife famed fashion designer Sue Carmine, after a trip around the state. Senator Carmine is up for re-election this year, and was traveling New York in an attempt to gain votes for the upcoming election in November." A picture flashed on the screen of a handsome couple climbing gracefully down the steps of a private jet. People like that made me sick.
"Trophy wife." I muttered to myself, but didn't flip the channel. The beautiful blond woman in the light blue silk dress was smiling prettily at the camera and waving. There was an immaculately dressed little girl coming down the steps behind them. She had a smug aristocratic look on her face that told everyone she knew she was better than they were. I wanted to kick her. Little girls like that deserved to be kicked. Little girls like that grew up to be Paris Hilton. I wrinkled my nose in disgust and flipped my middle finger at the little brat on the screen. The anchor with the scarily painted on face finally moved to the next story, and I set the remote on the coffee table. At least this would keep me occupied for another 45 minutes.
As the stories went on, I slowly became aware of something. I wasn't sure what that something was, but I knew it was there. That nervous feeling that something was wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I leaned over and muted the screen, then sat listening to the silence. Well, the silence except for the snoring that hadn't stopped yet. I looked around cautiously, then lifted myself slightly off the sofa, twisting around to look behind me. Nothing. What the hell? I stilled the urge to call out for Devon. Maybe he was just playing tricks on me. It wouldn't be the first time. And I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of letting it bother me. With a soft grunt, I settled myself back on the sofa and flicked the volume back on. It didn't go away though. It settled itself on the back of my neck, and I resisted the impulse to reach back and nervously scratch. That little prick wouldn't win this time. I could hold out longer, until he properly apologized to me for what happened earlier.
The news stories were coming to a close, and I had almost managed to put the something out of my mind when it happened.
"You're supposed to be sleepin'." The voice was low. Low, dangerous, ungodly sexy and no more than four inches away from my ear. I had always been a sucker for a dangerous voice. And of course, an ungodly sexy voice. I might have appreciated it more though, if it hadn't scared the living shit out of me. I gasped and jumped a few feet off the couch. You can imagine my disappointment when I whirled around and came face to face with Raphael. A few different thoughts ran through my mind in those brief seconds. One. I guess he wasn't the one snoring. Damn. Two. SONUVABITCH! Three. Mmmmm, me likee the voice. I decided to verbally act on the second thought.
"Asshole!" I hissed and made to slap him. Yes, stupid move I know, but I couldn't help it. Pure reaction. My hand didn't even come close to connecting. He caught me around the wrist and gave me a condescending look, like I was a young child being reprimanded.
"Now, now, play nice." He grinned menacingly, which only seemed to piss me off even more. I tried to wrench my wrist out of his grip, but he held it tight. I thought about hitting him over the head with the remote control in my left hand, but decided against it. I wanted to be able to channel surf later without getting up.
"I don't play well with others." I tried to make my voice sound low and dangerous and sexy too. …I think I failed, because he only gave me a short amused laugh and finally released my wrist. Ok, screw the low dangerous voice. That fucking hurt. I whimpered and rubbed my wrist, hoping he hadn't heard me. With an unnatural grace, at least in my opinion, he vaulted over the couch landing softly next to me. "What the hell do you want?" I finally asked.
"From you? Nothin'." He leaned back against the cushions, stretched his legs out and used the coffee table as a footrest.
Ok. This conversation was going nowhere fast. I glared at him for an instant then settled myself back down on the sofa, not very subtly scooting as close to the arm as I could. He made me nervous and I didn't like the feeling. I tried to ignore him as I turned my attention back to the TV. No less than five minutes later I found myself glaring at him again. I never could just drop an issue.
"What?" His eyes never left the TV.
"What the hell were you doing, sneaking around behind me like that. How long were you there, anyway? Do you get some sort of sick pleasure by watching people?"
"Did it make you nervous?"
"…no." I lied, badly.
"Bullshit." He finally looked at me with a smug little expression. I wanted to smack that cocky grin off his face.
"You're such a child."
"I'm not the one who ran out the door screamin' when Donny mentioned doctors." He placed way too much emphasis on the last word, and I tensed just slightly. Oooooh, low blow on his part. I had to give him credit for that. But I wasn't nearly so wound up now, and this time I wouldn't let myself go into a fit about it.
"Don't pretend you know anything about me."
"How could I? You haven't told us anythin' about you." This was true. I hadn't had time to tell them anything, and even if I had, where would I start?
"Fine. What do you want to know?" I crossed my arms over my chest and shifted on the couch to face Raphael. I leaned back against the arm and tucked my feet in close, my elbows resting on my knees.
"Who's Devon?" I froze. Right to the point, this guy was.
"Uh… What?" Ah, yes. The standard response when you're stalling for time to answer a question you don't want to answer.
"Who. Is. Devon." He spelled it out slowly for me. God, he must really think I'm a retard. Of course, I hadn't given him much proof to the contrary. And how the hell did he know about Devon, anyway?
I stared at him as I tried to recall anytime I had mentioned Devon in his presence. I couldn't remember anythi--… "You perv!" I realized suddenly. I had called for Devon before I left the lab. "You were watching me, weren't you! You've been here since I woke up!" I narrowed my eyes at him and pointed an accusatory finger. "You watched me get dressed, you freakin' voyeur!"
"Don't flatter yourself." He rolled his eyes at me. "I didn't see nothin'." I didn't say anything, just kept glaring. "What, you thought we'd just leave you alone in our home while we were sleepin'?"
"So you figured you'd stalk me around and scare the living crap outta me? A simple 'good morning, nice to see you're ok.' would have been nice!"
"Where's the fun in that?"
"You're a sadistic fuck, you know that? I was seriously creeped out!" I stretched out one of my legs and nudged him hard in the thigh. Raphael must have been in a good mood, because I don't think I could have gotten away with that on one of his bad days. It just seemed like it made him even smugger than before and I REALLY wanted to hit him. Hard. However, as psychotic as I may be, I'm certainly not suicidal. "Blow me." I started to turn back to the TV, but he wouldn't let the conversation drop that easy.
"You didn't answer the question. Devon?"
I 'hmmmmphed' and looked back at him. "I was disoriented, ok? I thought I was somewhere else."
"Boyfriend?" The pervy mocking tone in his voice really bothered me.
"Not that it's any of your business, but no."
"Roommate?"
"God, lay off, Raphael. Ask me about something else."
"Okay… why don't you like doctors?"
"Anything but that."
"So, what the hell were you doin', climbin' down into the sewers at midnight drunk off your ass?"
"It seemed like a good idea at the time." Ok, so I was stealing Devon's excuse. It would have to work for now.
"You must have been wasted."
"Well, at the time I was getting wasted I thought I was going to go home with the cute guy buying me the drinks, not walking home by myself."
"So what happened?"
"I got jumped by a couple thug-wannabes."
"Nah, I meant with the guy." Ok this was weird. This was actually turning into a conversation. A vaguely pleasant conversation. Well.. pleasant as in the fact that we weren't cursing at each other every other sentence.
"I got ditched for some skinny little tramp in a mini-skirt and halter top."
"Ain't that always how it goes?"
"Shut up. Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've gotten laid? I was really looking forward to going home with that guy!" The moment the words came out of my mouth, I instantly regretted them. What the hell was I doing, discussing my sex life, or lack there-of, with a giant turtle who didn't seem to even like me very much. Devon was surprisingly understanding when it came to that area of my life. Probably because of the gay thing, so I didn't feel uncomfortable talking to him about it. Hell, we checked guys out together. Call it a brother-sister bonding thing.
The look on Raphael's face was rather hard to discern, though. I'm not the best at reading the facial expressions of turtles, but if I had to guess I'd say he was checking me out, to determine the best response to that question. What's said is said though, so I just raised an eyebrow, silently daring him to come up with some sarcastic retort.
"Eh. The guy was probably an ass anyway." Vague, simple, and not degrading. I could deal with that.
"You're an ass." I pointed out with in a somewhat friendly tone.
"Never said I wasn't."
I tried to fight back a smile, but it managed to find its way to my face anyway. With a small snort and a 'heh' I realized maybe Raph wasn't so bad after all. Sure, he was a jerk, but the same could be said for me. I'm not the most pleasant of people to be around. I wouldn't quite say we were friends yet, but I think we'd reached a mutual understanding. He could be an ass, I could be a bitch, and we were both okay with that. Today was looking to be a much better day.
After the fic Author's Notes: Muahahahaha, Raph is not such an ass in this chapter! Anyway, this is my longest chapter yet. Sorry it took so long to post, but I was gone all weekend and just not got a chance to work on the story. The next chapter should be up by the end of the week sometime. Maybe as soon as tomorrow morning, seeing as how I have the next 2 nights off of work. Hope you all enjoyed it. Oh, and for those who were wondering, I forgot to clarify. In the last chapter, the door that slammed that snapped Austin's composure was indeed, April coming into the lair. It was implied, but not stated, and I forgot to add it in to the Notes after the story.
Notes for my Reviewers:
Wow, lots of reviews for this chapter! Thanks guys, so much! My notes to reviewers is almost becoming as long as the chapter itself!
BubblyShell22: Sorry, no Leo this chapter. But there will be more of him next chapter! At least, there should be. I write this as I go, so I never know who's going to pop up in the scenes. But there SHOULD be Leo next chapter.
QueenofSparta: I'm glad you think she's not a Mary Sue. I'm trying really hard. And that halo you see is really being held up by the horns. Hehehe. With the hell I put my characters through, it's certainly not inspired by anything angelic.
Isis-Lament: Yes, you really do have to love Raph. He's always been my favorite. Hopefully he wasn't too out of character in this chapter. It's hard to find that right blend of ass-ness and charm.
DW: Don't worry, I won't write in any Mary Sues in this story. I've got too much to do. Maybe I'll start another fic soon, but I think I want to concentrate on this one first. Austin is my baby. My little poor abused psychotic baby who needs lots and lots of therapy, but I still love her. And we finally get to see some interaction between Raph and Austin in this chapter. Yay!
Lioness-Goddess: Yah, I really do feel sorry for little Jimmy. That really sucks. "Hey kid, Happy Birthday! Your drunk abusive father just killed the nice gay surrogate dad that lived next door. Here's a present." Wow. I think I might write a story about what happens to poor little Jimmy after that day… after I finish this one, of course.
Dierdre: Ehh, don't feel bad about not guessing Devon's killer. I actually had 3 different plot-lines for that, one of them being his own father. I just hadn't decided which one to use yet. The 'blood and birthday' cake line from the first chapter was written as a funny throw-away line. But as I started thinking more and more about it, it just seemed like Devon's death scene wrote itself. As for Mary Sues for the boys… my cousin has declared that if I do indeed write them, and make it NC-17, she's going to have me committed to an institution because it means I'm seriously fucked in the head. I just point out that she's the one reading my fic. To which she responds, "I'm only reading it because you're writing it, and I want to read your stuff." Whatever, Cousin! You know you want the Turtle-Lovin!
Mickis: I just love reading your reviews. They make me happy. –grin- Yah, Devon is a bit… possessive. Austin is the only one he can really talk to, and they've been together for so long he thinks that she doesn't need anyone else. His heart is in the right place, but he's just lonely. He doesn't care if she has casual acquaintances and such, but doesn't like it when anyone gets too close to her. It's sad, really. Poor guy.
bookwurm290: Thanks for the review. Spell checker is my friend, which is why the grammar is so good. Hehe.
Sassyblondexoxo: Mmmmmm…. Raph and chocolate. There is no better combination in all the world. That right there would be my perfect ménage a trois.
Pretender Fanatic: I'm glad you're still enjoying the story! From this point on, the flashbacks are going to get a little creepy, methinks. Some of the stuff I have planned out in my head, I'm not sure if I really want to write. We'll see how dark I want this story to get. There's only so much I can do to Austin before I actually start to feel bad about it… But I'm going to make it all up to her by the end of the story! Maybe. –evil grin-
kaya lizzie: I hope I didn't go too off-course with the version of Raph in this chapter. He's still a jerk, but I think he and Austin see a bit of a kindred soul in each other. Well.. as much as two loners can manage. But don't worry, this won't turn into a Raph!Romance with hearts and flowers and doves and pretty littly cherubs floating around singing love songs while Austin and Raph slow-dance to Celine Dion or anything. shudders In my opinion, the whole appeal of Raphael is that he's a bad-ass. Mmmmm… I've always had a thing for bad-asses.