Chapter Six : "Breakfast at April's"
Author's Notes: How long has it been since I updated? I can't remember. But while I'm here, I'd like to start this author's notes by saying thank you to Reinbeauchaser (whose name I only just got after sounding it out to spell it in this document! Heh! Cute name!). Your lengthy reviews are by far the best encouragement out there. I'll go ahead and admit that your comments are the reason I went back and edited the first five chapters. Thanks for the kind words and the support and I hope you continue to enjoy the fic! Insert standard I-don't-own-these-characters disclaimers here.
Maki Seiya was a patient man. One had to be, when one was involved in an organization such as the Foot. A person could spend years learning martial arts, as well as years climbing the ranks to be among the privileged few who were more than mere errand boys. While most considered "bad guys" to be quick to rush in, Maki preferred to think things completely through before submitting to a course of action.
Once Master Shredder had gone insane Maki had vowed to seek his revenge for his former leader. This, he felt, was not a rash decision, as the female responsible for Shredder's insanity had attached herself to those like herself: the mutant turtles. She fit in perfectly with the freaks of nature, and those were the same abominations he'd been hunting since he'd joined the Foot.
Years had passed in which he'd hunted for them, tracing their (rare) sightings and keeping careful track of these reports. He, like all the Foot, were aware of April O'Neil's connection with the turtles. However, her popularity as a media personality had grown so much that an attack on her would draw too much attention to himself and his comrades. The consequences of such a foolish action would set him back, and it was the last thing he desired. Perhaps, if the time came when she could prove useful, he would exploit her.
However, his single-minded focus was the female.
Now he'd completed an alliance with the Dragon Lord, and the combined forces would no doubt hasten their inevitable encounter with the turtles. The alliance was both time-saving in the part of gathering information, but also painfully necessary for the Foot. Maki was ashamed to admit that, since Shredder's incapacitation, the Foot had fallen from glory. Many of the members had scattered to the wind, fearful for themselves. Shredder had been stronger than all of them, and he fell easily to the female's sorcery. The fact that she ran with their enemies only made her more terrifying, and so they'd abandoned those they'd pledged their lives to. What remained of the Foot was a ragtag, minor bunch that was incapable of the activities they'd once performed with ease. They'd fallen from grace and were no longer the terror they had been in their heyday.
However, combined with the Dragon Lord and his forces, the Foot would finally be allowed to defeat their long-time enemies, gain their revenge, and reclaim the streets of New York City as their own.
Right now Maki was in the underground subway, searching through the turtle's home. Since the discovery of their habitation it's all the Foot had done. The Dragon Lord's minions were not very good at looking for clues. They were not patient. Maki hunted for clues as to where the turtles had gone. The odd thing was, it didn't look like they'd moved on. Furniture still crowded the old platform, and the abandoned cars still housed belongings. Beds, old workout equipment, even a lab of sorts.
It was in this lab that Maki found the evidence that would appease the Dragon Lord...for now.
"What is this?" The Dragon Lord clutched the lab coat in one large hand, the material bunching and tearing under his claws.
Maki quickly took hold of the lapel, turning it over to show the Dragon Lord the words sewn into the pocket at the front: "Dr. L. Vigil, Assay Chemicals."
"I found it in one of the cabs...along with this." He held up a notebook with a simple gesture, flipping to the last page and reading from the precise lettering.
" 'Day four: Am still nauseous; coughing; throat raw and irritated, voice nearly gone; skin discoloration continues; shell sensitivity persists, as well as scute loss; bone loss across the carapace: exception center, where bone is still present; plastron dissolving; symptoms persist in all subjects (presumably)." Here the notes ended, and Maki looked up.
The Dragon Lord looked displeased, his great fangs grinding together. "And what is all that supposed to mean to me?"
"These notes indicate that at one point the turtles were sick. Presumably their sickness occurred just before they left, as this is the last page of writing in this notebook." Maki flipped to the next few pages, all of which were devoid of writing. "The creature who took these notes is meticulous; he would have continued his writing if he'd had the opportunity. Something must have happened to them, something that lead to their evacuation."
"You're relying on presumption, tiny human. Who's to know if what you're suggesting is true? Perhaps these are older notes the owner was reading over just before they left. Perhaps they are not as meticulous as you assume. There's a good chance you are wrong." The Dragon Lord motioned to the lab coat. "And I fail to see how this coat means anything to me."
Maki was about to speak when a member of the Foot approached, bowing and offering a single piece of glass fragment. Printed on one side were letters, though the words they'd once spelled out were lost. All that remained was "ay," and directly below that, "mica."
Maki handed this to the Dragon Lord, his expression smug beneath his mask. "There you are. Two separate items linked to this Assay Chemicals company. I guarantee you that we will find more information with this Dr. L. Vigil."
The Dragon Lord gazed at the fragment, then closed his hand over it, crushing the glass into a fine powder. He held Maki's gaze, grinning grotesquely around his fangs.
"You'd better be right, Maki Seiya. For if you aren't you will pay with your hide. You need me far more than I need you."
Maki felt his stomach clench in apprehension, recognizing the ring of truth in the Dragon Lord's voice. He'd hoped the great beast wouldn't be smart enough to figure that out.
Perhaps he'd underestimated the Dragon Lord. The thought gave him chills.
Mei shot up in bed, breathing heavily. Sweat dripped down her neck, causing the short hairs at the nape to stick to her skin. Her face was flushed, burning in the cool night air. She gulped in oxygen, trying to calm her racing heart. Her hands, clenched in her lap around the white cotton sheet that had been sent tumbling when she'd sat up, were trembling.
Mei glanced over to April, asleep in the large bed the reporter had pushed into the corner of the room. The extra space had been needed for the air mattress she'd bought for Mei. Currently April slept facing the wall, her light snoring slightly muffled.
Mei took a deep breath, her heart slowing. She reflected on the nightmare than had awoken her. She recalled great fear, and the feel of talons piercing her skin. Mei shuddered at the memory, running her hands over her arms to ensure that no wounds marred her flesh. No blood smeared onto her hands, but she recalled feeling the slick liquid oozing over her limbs. Beyond the physical pain there was the mental torture of that laughter pounding into her ears, worming into her skull and bouncing around her brain, echoing for all eternity.
The Dragon Lord haunted her dreams.
With an inaudible sigh Mei silently climbed from bed, stepping lightly to the door. Before exiting she glanced at April's night stand, catching the blue-glowing time: 5:54 a.m.
On most days she would have already been awake by now, along with everyone else in the house. However, it was Sunday, and April had told them that Sunday's were her day to sleep in. That meant that their training would have to wait until later in the day, for if they disturbed her sleeping she would skin them alive (her exact words). They hadn't objected, and privately Mei was relieved to have a day where they could sleep in.
Or at least that was the theory. It seemed that Mei would notgetmuch extra sleep today. She knew instinctively that even if she laid back down and closed her eyes, she would not gain any more rest. She was awake now; both the terror of her dream and her natural rhythm would keep her from catching any more zzz's. This being the case Mei decided to keep herself occupied by making herself breakfast.
She padded down the stairs without a sound, the carpet soft against her bare feet. Mei slid her toes across the floor covering on the last stair, flexing so that the fibers tickled the bottom of her digits. Stepping down she ran a hand over the ornate wood capping the end of the banister, the smooth polish rubbing against the tips of her fingers. Entering the kitchen she slid her feet, the tile smooth yet firm beneath her.
She hadn't told anyone, not even Donny (who loved all new curiosities), that she'd noticed a heightened perception of sensation since she'd changed. Each touch, each caress, felt new and exciting, making her nerves sing. The first time she'd washed her hair she'd almost cried with the unfamiliarity of it. The foreign feeling of hair dragging through her fingers, of shampoo lathering and softening the tresses, was a pleasant shock. The tiny bubbles roaming over her hands had almost been too much for her, and she'd silently cried in delight.
Such a thing was so personal, so private, that she couldn't imagine sharing it with anyone. And as the days went on the newness expired, and the sensations became commonplace. However, if she concentrated enough, she could revisit those feelings, and whenever alone did as she did now-touched everything.
Carefully pulling a pan from the cabinet she traced a fingertip over the handle. The fine bumps in the black plastic that allowed for a better grip pricked at her skin. With great care so as not to make too much noise she placed the pan on the stove, then turned for the refrigerator. Ducking her head into the compartment she pulled out sliced deli ham, cheese, a green onion, eggs, milk, and butter. Deftly she balanced it all in her arms, nudging the refrigerator door shut with the heel of her foot.
She was shocked as she turned around to find Leo standing behind the island, watching her.
"Leo!" Her voice was a high whisper, her nerves on edge. He'd managed to sneak up on her, and as a result she'd almost dropped her armload and made a mess.
He looked abashed, clearly aware he'd startled her, and offered her an apologetic look.
"Sorry, Mei." He ran a hand through his rumbled dark curls, his other hand disappearing into the pocket of his cotton pajama bottoms.
"What're you doing awake?" She asked, depositing her goodies onto the island. She placed one hand over the eggs, which tended to travel over smooth surfaces. Stretching to reach the cabinets suspended over the island she stood on tiptoe, fingers closing over a glass mixing bowl and pulling it down. She put each egg in the bowl then closed the cabinet, turning on her heel to pull open a drawer next to the refrigerator and retrieve a fork and sharp edged knife. Putting those down she pulled a plate from the cabinet, placing that on the counter and picking up the knife once more. She began to chop the green onion into tiny bits.
"I woke up at 5 and couldn't get back to sleep. I saw you pass by and heard you head downstairs, so I thought I'd keep you company. Unless you wanted to be alone..?" Leo had been about to sit in the stool on the other side of the island but paused.
"No, no. Sit." She motioned with the knife as she spoke, then began cubing the slices of ham. "I woke up too. I can never get back to sleep once I wake up, so I thought I'd come downstairs and make something to eat." She glanced at him through her lashes, then pulled out the eggs and cracked them over the bowl.
"I see that." Leo watched the bones in the back of her hand move as she broke the eggs. His gaze dropped and he fell silent, looking slightly uncertain.
Mei added the ham and onion, then measured out the milk and added that as well. Returning the milk to the fridge she grabbed the salt and pepper, shaking some of the two into her mixture and then stirring it all together with the fork.
"What're you making?" He asked, eyes flickering to her face.
"A ham and cheese omelet." She offered him a smile, tossing her head to push her hair over her shoulder. She hadn't braided it last night, and didn't have anything to tie it back with at the moment. As a result the brunette locks tumbled over her shoulders and into her eyes. Once she'd made breakfast she'd go back upstairs and pull it back.
She looked up, smiling again as she finished mixing. "Do you want one?"
Leo put his elbows on the counter, leaning forward slightly, holding his hands together in front of him. He appeared to look at the omelet batter then nodded. "If it's not a problem..?"
"Of course it isn't." Mei resisted the urge to laugh at the suggestion that cooking would be any burden. Since she'd come to live with the boys she'd cooked for them on many occasions. She'd been shocked to find that none of them knew how to do more than make toast, and that the bulk of their diet consisted of junk food. Granted, considering their level of activity, such food was quickly burned off, but it was still unhealthy. So she'd begun making meals for them, and had quickly adjusted to making food for six people. In truth cooking was a form of meditation for Mei; she could quiet disturbed thoughts, or clear her mind quickly when she was bustling around the kitchen. This was why, after her nightmare this morning, she'd decided to cook breakfast; it was a good way to rid herself of the lingering effects of the terror.
"Just making sure." Leo caught her gaze for moment as she set down the fork, one corner of his mouth quirking in the beginnings of a smile.
Mei turned to the sink, reaching up and gathering her hair into her hands. Bunching the locks into one group she flicked her wrist quickly, twisting the hair and then flipping it over her shoulder. Once released the hair began to spin free from the gentle twist, but remained mostly together. She washed her hands and reached for a towel.
With her back turned Leonardo let his gaze wander, watching her hands run over the towel before it was thrown across her shoulder. His eyes fell from her shoulders to her legs, the twin columns smooth and bare. This was the first time he'd seen Mei without long pants-her pajama bottoms were cut short, leaving much of her leg exposed.
She had great legs, there was no denying that. Well formed and strong, their shape was pleasing as they tapered to her ankles. Currently she stood in front of the stove, dropping butter into the skillet. She balanced her weight on one leg, her opposite foot tucked behind the other and flexed so that the top of her foot pressed against the floor, knee slightly bent. Leo traced the curve of her hip down to her knee, then to her foot.
Catching himself he wrenched his eyes from her, appalled with himself. Mei was an equal, a woman he'd learned a great deal from, and here he was watching her as if he were a pervert. He hated himself at how easily he'd been able to objectify her. She had been a friend and confidante for these past years. She'd helped him expand his mind, and in turn he'd trained with her to enhance her physical defense abilities. She was not merely a pair of legs for him to gawk. Leo repeated this thought over and over, still refusing to allow himself to look at her.
He started as Mei turned from the stove to pick up the bowl. He met her gaze, a blush coloring his cheeks. He knew she was able to read his mind and catch whatever thoughts were on the surface, and he hoped she didn't. The last thing he wanted was for her to know he'd been staring at her legs.
She smiled, twin locks of hair on either side of her head falling free and framing her face. With a quick gesture that revealed her annoyance she shoved them behind her ears, turning back to the stove.
Leo had caught the fed up sigh that had escaped with that gesture. He stood, joining her next to the stove and watching as she poured part of the mixture onto the skillet.
"Where is your hair...holding-back...thing?"
She looked up at him in surprise, her eyebrows drawing together. "My hair tie?"
"Yeah, the rubber band you use to keep your hair in a braid."
"It's in my room, but April's still sleeping." She looked back at the omelet, waiting for the bottom to set. "I'll just get one when this is done."
Leo didn't say anything but headed back upstairs, his footfalls silent against the floor. When he returned he held a long dark blue cloth in one hand, looking slightly unsure.
"I didn't want to risk waking April up. Think you could use this?"
Mei blinked at him, holding his gaze. His effort surprised her-she hadn't indicated that her hair was irritating her, unless he'd caught the clues in her body language. She knew he was better at observing body language than most, but hadn't thought she was revealing her frustration. Still, for him to have been considerate enough to even entertain ideas about finding a way to help her disclosed a lot about his character. Granted, it was a minor thing, but Mei knew the importance of minor things. Grand gestures-buying dozens of roses, paying for an expensive dinner at a fancy restaurant, meant little to Mei.
It was a throwback to the way she was raised. In her home, when a boy was courting a girl, there was no Tiffany's to buy diamonds. Instead the boy would find other ways to show how he cared-offering her his most prized possession, or going out to a field to pick flowers for her himself. When Mei had moved to New York City and begun to understand how people above ground lived, she was puzzled by the dating habits she'd learned about. To her, having a man call a florist to pay for flowers meant little. There was no effort on the part of the man, save the phone call. The florist wrote out the card, cut and arranged the flowers, and delivered them. To Mei, it felt as if there was no true feeling behind the gesture.
Little things, however, meant a lot. Having a man cook you dinner himself said that he was willing to go out of his way to help you. To her, the most romantic thing someone could do would be to take care of her-make her dinner, run her a warm bath, give her a massage-and just spend time with her.
So Leo finding a way to make cooking breakfast easier-or at least less aggravating-touched her more than anything else.
She realized she was staring at him, her mouth slightly open, and she could tell he was growing more and more uncomfortable. With a shake she smiled at him, then nodded. "Yeah, that should work." She was about to take it when she realized that her omelet was in the fast lane toward Ruined City. She picked up the skillet, turning her wrist slightly so that the egg on top slid to the edge of the set egg. With her other hand she reached into the cheese packet, pulling out a handful and slowly sprinkling them evenly over the egg. Several locks of hair fell in front of her and she blew upwards, trying to get them out of the way.
"Just a sec..." She trailed off as Leo moved behind her, fingers brushing over her forehead and cheeks as he began to gather her hair together behind her. She barely managed to keep from dropping the skillet as emotion welled within her.
His long fingers tangled in her hair, combing through the locks to arrange them more neatly behind her. Bringing the tips of his fingers to the crown of her head he raked them back, short nails lightly dragging against her scalp, sending a ticklish shiver down her spine. Holding the majority of her hair in one hand he gently pulled them all back away from her face. Lifting the cluster he held in one hand he feathered his fingers over the back of her neck, wrangling the strays.
Mei bit her lip against a moan at the fresh stimulation, fighting the urge to tip her head back into his fingers. The skin of her neck prickled into goosebumps, the muscles of her abdomen clenching as her stomach did a thrilling twist.
Leonardo tried not to think about his proximity, or the feel of her hair in his hands. The fine strands tangled around his thumb, dragging against the sensitive skin between his fingers. He quickly began to name every country in alphabetical order, struggling to keep control of himself. He didn't know exactly what would happen if he lost control, but he had a feeling it would be something that he would later feel guilty about. And no doubt it would ruin his friendship with Mei.
Quickly he wrapped the bandanna around the thick cluster of hair, tying the ends into a knot to hold it all together. Leo stepped back, almost colliding with the island.
"I, um..."
"Yeah. Thanks." Mei glanced at him over her shoulder, looking slightly flushed. It threw him off for a moment, until he remembered that she was cooking, and figured it was due to the heat from the stove.
He worried that he'd crossed the line in getting that close to her. Perhaps he should have just let her fix her own hair, and left it at that. Certainly it would have been safer than what he had done. Consciously he hadn't intended to tie back her hair for her. Suddenly there he'd been, standing closer to her than he admittedly needed to, surrounded by the scent of passionflower and omelet. He'd marveled at the texture of her hair, so silky against his palm. Even now he could recall the feeling, a phantom sensation that made his spine prickle.
The scary thing was it had made him want to touch more of her, to hold her. And that was definitely inappropriate, as far as friends went. So he backed away, around the island, and back into his seat. He couldn't bring himself to speak, afraid of what he might say to incriminate himself. It was already an awkward moment; he didn't want to add to it by putting his foot in his mouth.
Deftly Mei folded the omelet over and then turned, tipping the skillet so that the omelet slid onto the plate. Replacing the skillet she retrieved silverware and a napkin, and with a flourish presented it all to Leo, a smile lighting her eyes. The awkward atmosphere, which a moment ago had kept Leo from speaking, disappeared with her grin. He relaxed, relieved that whatever weirdness he'd imagined had been exactly that-imagined.
"There you are. Enjoy." She held his gaze for a moment, holding out the silverware and napkin in one hand.
Leo reached up and took the proffered utensils, his fingers closing around hers. She didn't pull away, and Leo felt it again-that surge of feeling. He began to remove his hand but stopped. Something in her gaze gave him pause, and instead of backing away he held, wondering.
Mei's fingers were cool, curled around the utensils and pressed against his palm. Slowly she relaxed them, brushing her skin against his, the tiny hairs on the back of her fingers transmitting even the most minute of contact directly into her brain. She bit the inside of her lower lip, wanting the glorious, ticklish, sensual feeling to continue.
Donatello jumped down the last stair, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Hey, Leo. I thought I heard something down here."
Mei quickly pulled back, turning to the stove and busying herself with preparing another omelet. Leo, for his part, withdrew his hand as if nothing had occurred, though he was still reeling from the brief contact.
Donatello inhaled deeply, sighing appreciatively. "Mei, it smells great!" He patted her on the shoulder then made a beeline for the coffee maker."I think I'll put on a pot of John."
"You mean Joe, Donny." Mei corrected automatically, not looking at him.
Donny nodded. "That's what I said." He started to fiddle with the coffee maker, apparently oblivious to what he'd walked in on.
Of course, Mei and Leo weren't sure exactly what he'd walked in on, either. But they did know they wished he hadn't.
To Be Continued...