DISCLAIMER: Again, I don't own them, I just like to play with them. Beta read by the ever-talented, yet rarely seen these days, Ziptango!

Author's Notes: I know that some people might not like this particular Donatello. Suffice it to say, I do, if only because he is doing what he was destined to do – invent life-changing 'contraptions' and improving life in general world-wide, and be more than he can be elsewhere. However, I am hoping that the kind of Don he became in Rahab will be explained here in Femme Fatale. Defining moments can force startling changes in how we react to the world and those around us. I am certain that many of you understand this fact all too terribly well.

Also, some of you might have formed a strong dislike for Bara from Rahab's story. Again, Femme Fatale just might allow you to re-consider that POV. The proverbial 'tortured soul' syndrome just doesn't even begin to label her angst.

Where this chapter opens, please know that I do not support Don and Bara's decision as to how far they have taken their relationship, even though I'm the one who wrote it. Yet, I have to keep in mind that Don is now 'of the world', and therefore has adapted to 'the world's' view on such matters. To me, keeping him in character is as important as writing about a real person and chronicling their life story. Enough said on that.

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Femme Fatale

Chapter 3 – Summertime

Don jerked awake to feel his heart pounding, as if it would jump right out of his plastron, but then he realized why. Next to him, Bara was screaming.

"Bara, sweetheart, wake up," he gently said, reaching over and affectionately laying his right arm upon her waist. She was on her back and wreathing in agony, yet was still very much asleep. Despite wanting to, though, Don refrained from pulling her into him. He was mindful of the fact that she was still in her dream-state and not yet fully aware of his presence.

"Uh, uh, no, NO, please, NO, PLEASE, I don't want to, NO!" she cried out and thrashed around some more, her unconscious mind assaulting her. Bara's face grimaced from the dream, her eyes shut tight and creasing at the edges as she 'fought' her inner demons.

"BARA, please wake up, honey," Don entreated desperately and a little more loudly than before.

Once again it seemed as if his beloved, and himself, would not be getting a good night's sleep. It was one of countless times in the past four months that nightmares had been plaguing his fiancé. The young woman would scream out, pleading with someone to stop whatever it was 'they' were forcing her to do in her subconscious. Shortly after that and with Don's gentle coaxing, she would wake up. The most disturbing aspect of it, however, was that Bara was unable to remember anything about what she had dreamt. Even when Don attempted a meditative joining of his mind with hers, something that his father had taught to him and his three brothers many years ago, he could not get her to recall her disturbing phantasms. Even when she was in the middle of her torment, he just could not make contact. It was as if a barrier was there to prevent him from doing so.

Nevertheless, it was all very unsettling and quite frustrating for both of them.

Still, the longer Don lay there with her in their bed, and the more he talked to her, before too long Bara slowly opened her eyes. Her skin was now moist from the resulting internal fight. Perspiration coated her arms and upper torso, while her hair matted in wet strands along her face. From her damp pillow, she looked up desperately into her lover's face as he peered down at her with worry.

She then began to cry.

Reaching out to him, "Why can't I remember them, why?" she wailed into his embrace as he pulled her up to him. "All they do is leave me feeling panicky and, and, desperate, like something bad is going to happen."

Don rolled back over onto his carapace, bringing his beloved with him. He held her firmly in his arms. Affectionately, he whispered words in Japanese to her in order to soothe her spirit. He kissed the top of her head and softly stroked her left shoulder that poked out from under the silken bedcovers.

He finally sighed. "I – don't know why you can't remember, my dear," he said. "We've tried everything, from conventional to non conventional means, just to figure it out." With Bara's head nestled just under Don's chin, he looked down at her and saw her tear-stained face. While he embraced her with his left arm, he brought his right hand over and gently wiped the wetness away, "Maybe you're just nervous about the wedding."

She didn't say anything at first, allowing the peaceful night to once again fill their expansive bedroom. Currently, they were at Don's mansion in Croton-on-the-Hudson, halfway through a two-month respite from the lab in New York City. Don thought for sure getting away from the stress and pressures of the job was what she needed. Yet, still her dreams harassed her, and now he wondered if maybe, just maybe, she might be nervous about going back to Japan.

"Are you concerned about visiting your homeland again?" he asked her quietly.

Bara sighed, and said with a voice strained with emotion, "I – don't know. You know that I used to go back every spring around the time that my grandfather died just to honor him for the sacrifices he made in raising me." She paused, and then commented, "But…I stopped going…when I began working in your lab, it was as if…I had finally found what I was supposed to do. I thought for sure my grandfather would have supported this decision, but…maybe he didn't?" She looked up into Don's face, a worried questioning look now crossing her own, "Maybe my dreams are his way of saying...he disapproves?" Her voice trailed off with that thought, her eyes now brimming a new with a fresh supply of tears.

Don smiled, hugging her, "Bara, dear, I don't think your grandfather would have disapproved of me, had he lived long enough to have met me," Don cooed soothingly, and then he said more seriously as he gently admonished her, "Besides, the dead can't communicate with the living anyway. I don't believe in any of that stuff – and you're intelligent enough to know better." He kissed her head again and then lifted her a little, bringing her closer to him. With the same hand that had wiped her tears away, he tipped her chin up a bit. Now, as she looked into his dark comforting eyes, she saw his gentle expression and it calmed her heart. As a result and with her mouth slightly parted, her breathing slowed down a little. Don smiled and leaned in to take in her lips, giving her a long, sustained kiss, and pulling her even closer to himself.

In reflex, she wrapped her left arm around his neck, drawing herself into him and deepening their embrace. After they broke apart, she slipped down again to lay her head along his plastron, listening contentedly to the gentle rhythm of his heart through the hard surface of his chest. As he continued to hold her, stroking her bare back, he hummed a little.

Bara smiled; he always did that, right after she woke up from her nightmares. In a strange way, it reminded her of a cat's purr, but it was more deliberate than that, and deeper. She knew that Don was only trying to ease her mind back to sleep again, and to calm her tortured spirit. "You know, if you're not careful, Mr. Tello," she said as she sniffed and a bit of a tease in her voice, "I'm going to have to set a bowl of milk out for you."

Don chuckled, which only encouraged Bara to laugh, as well. Soon, he was tickling her, and receiving the same in return. It almost turned into an all-out wrestling match in their bed, with Bara giggling in near hysterics, as Don seemed to get the better of her. Yet, before too long, they were embracing once more as they kissed deeply.

After a while, he slipped out from under her and turned Bara onto her back with a kiss. After easing himself on top of her, he deepened his caress of her lips with his. In time, and as they progressed their affection for one another, they found themselves ending the night that had begun in terror, to one of passion.

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Thankfully, over the next several weeks, Bara's dreams gradually abated with the rest of her time at the mansion apparently easing what nightmares had terrified her. She was able to get the needed rest that Don believed would help her. By the time they returned to New York City, her disturbing dreams had nearly disappeared all together. At any rate, it only proved his point that 'rest' was what she had truly needed and not a line-up of money-hungry psychologists.

Now, she could focus on their wedding plans.

Nevertheless, one month after returning from Croton-on-the-Hudson, they found themselves in the middle of yet another, demanding project.

"Don!" Bara called out again, this time with a little more irritation, "please stay focused!"

"Yes, dear, I am," he said hurriedly and abruptly. He straightened in his chair as he startled just a bit, his momentary distraction now dissipating. He realized that he had been daydreaming and – well, now was not the time; things had become critical.

"This is important, Don; probably the most important part of our 'project'," she admonished him lightly, reminding him with those words about the gravity of the situation.

"I know, dear," he agreed in attempted interest, although the slightly glazed expression on his face suggested otherwise.

"We need to come to a conclusion before next week, because if we don't…" she explained gently, now trying to soothe her irritation, "we'll be in trouble." She smiled gently at him, realizing that Don was completely out of his element.

Just the same, watching his fiancé trying on wedding dresses was as painful to him as having his nails ripped from his fingertips, but – Don was seriously trying to stay 'with the program'. Nevertheless, his mind would wander, drifting over to more interesting things to think about. Things such as observing how the light twisted and turned through the beveled glass doors of the wedding boutique they were currently visiting. He thanked his boredom, then, for showing him the wonders (and diversion) of such things as 'light refractions'.

In any event, he suddenly mused in irritation, "How many stores does she need to visit before she finds 'THE' dress." He continued silently to complain to himself, "And, why in heaven do I have to come along?"

He shook his head at that thought, truly confused as to why she believed he should even care. He only cared about changing her name to Mrs. Tello; he cared only for finally getting the girl of his dreams. Yet, as Don glanced her way, as he watched her turn in small slow circles in front of the tri-fold mirror and assessed the 'umpteenth' wedding dress she was trying on, he could not help but smile.

Yes, the dress was striking, its sleeveless bodice and full, ballroom, floor-length skirt littered with pearls and sequence. Its five-thousand dollar price tag indicated its value, yet, clothes or no clothes, his Bara was probably the most breath-taking vision he had ever seen.

"Maybe I could talk her into wearing nothing at all?" he wondered silently to himself, his interest growing anew. Still, he quickly dismissed the thought, slightly shaking his head again as he imagined the look of horror on her face, and then that flash of fire he knew so well.

It wasn't that Bara was ever truly mad at him, but she did have spunk. It reminded him of someone else, too.

Nevertheless, despite that, she was the most gentle of creatures, and it was something that appeased his need for such things. With the kind of desperate life that he had lived before emerging from the sewers, and then with the hectic success that followed, Bara was like a warm, gentle wind to his burdened soul. As he thought about that, his heart swelled with the love he had for her.

It was enough to give him the wherewithal to maintain his vigilance as the 'interested' partner.

Later, and no closer to finding 'The Dress', Bara and Don were taking in an early dinner at the very top of one of the most splendid skyscrapers in all of New York City – and, of course, it just happened to be one that Don had purchased the year before. They were currently eating his private dining room, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breath-taking view of the New York City skyline and the Statue of Liberty. As they ate, the sun was slowly edging its way towards its western arch. With long shadows growing along the eastern side of the city's skyscrapers, their hungry 'fingers' grappled towards the Atlantic coastline as the afternoon stretched towards evening.

As they partook of their meal, Don sat in contemplative silence. He could feel his beloved's frustration from where he sat and, glancing over at her, he could tell that she was just a bit sad, too. "Penny for your thoughts?" he asked softly between bites.

Shrugging, she shook her head as she gazed out the windows towards the view, "You'd be short-changed, I'm afraid," she muttered solemnly.

Laughing lightly, Don chuckled, "Oh, I don't know about that, Bara. Your thoughts are worth their weight in gold to me," he smiled.

As her fingers drummed impatiently alongside her plate, he reached over the small, intimate table, and gently took her hand in his.

Giving her a little squeeze, he encouraged, "I know that most brides tend to worry a great deal about 'looking radiant' on their day, but – my love – you should only worry about how I see you and not anyone else." He smiled then, "You are more radiant in your lab coat than if this room was filled with a thousand suns!" He then brought her hand up to meet his lips, leaned in towards her, and tenderly kissed her fingers.

"Not in public, Don," she gently admonished him, pulling her hand away teasingly. She then quickly glanced around to see if any of the servers had notice, "you know displays of that kind embarrass me."

With one eye ridge cocked mischievously, Don teased, "Um, really? Well, you just might challenge me to take you in my arms right here and plant a juicy one right on your lips!"

Her eyes went slightly wide, "You - wouldn't - dare!" she words tumbled out in sudden mock-fear, but then Bara realized that he probably would and daring him was not the brightest thing to do, "Never mind, I know you're just kidding and I know you wouldn't put me in that kind of position."

Appealing to his propriety was always the smart response, especially when he had that 'gleam' in his eyes, as he had now.

Realizing she had enlisted one of his most important points on protocol, Don retreated, smiling, "Oh, my Bara, you certainly know how to back-peddle!" and then the two of them laughed a little. "Honestly, though, I would never embarrass you. However, I do have a suggestion about your – ah – our…current problem." He took up another bite of his meal, chewing expectantly as he saw his fiancé's face brighten.

"Oh, and I thought your shopping for wedding dresses with me was as exciting as watching grass grow?" Bara gently challenged, a grin edging her mouth.

"It is, but…" he looked up at her and gave one of his devilishly charming smiles, "but I have an idea, just the same." Don sipped from his glass of wine, looking over the rim as he studied her. Sitting his glass back down on the table, he continued when he saw her interest perk up, "What about something traditionally Japanese. After all, we are getting married in Japan, and it would only be expected…"

Bara's sudden expression of excitement interrupted him, however.

"OH! That's PERFECT, Don, why didn't I think of that?" she gushed, leaping up and rushing over to wrap her arms around him, completely forgetting the setting they were in. Almost immediately, she saw that the servers and waiters had turned their attention to her rather loud exclamation.

Nevertheless, when she realized what she had done and as she tried to push away from him, Bara found herself trapped in Don's arms as he wrapped them securely around her. Pulling her onto his lap despite the resistance she tried to give him, he grinned as he said, "Because, my dear, I'm the genius here, remember?"

Now resigned to be where she was, Bara giggled as she touched her nose to his snout, "Oh, only by two points, but – I have to say that those two points just made my day!"

"And," he added with a smirk, "mine, as well. As it is, I have things to do, I'm afraid, that will see me gone for the next couple of days." He sighed, not at all pleased with leaving his Bara alone; he so enjoyed being with her.

Somewhat crestfallen with his sudden plans, although they were nothing out of the ordinary, Bara gently whined, "Again? But, there are so many other things to do. The – the menu, the flowers, the…"

"My dear," Don said softly, touching his fingers to her lips to quiet her, "if you are going to wear a traditional Japanese dress, then I suggest that you also festoon the occasion with like traditions regarding the food and the flowers. I know that you've been here in the states for most of your adult life, but I'm certain you can remember what customs are like in Japan."

"You don't care, then, what I choose?" Bara asked.

"No, so long as you are happy, that's the only thing I care about," he replied sincerely. "And, I am not saying that because I hate shopping. I am saying that because I really do care for your happiness. You've made me so very happy, that it's the least I can do for you." He grinned, quite pleased with his response and her reaction.

Wrapping her arms around him, Bara bubbled out, "You are the most amazing, wonderful man in the entire world," and then, forgetting her own propriety, she planted a deep, longing kiss on his mouth. It surprised Don for only a moment, but then he eagerly returned the gesture, both of them ignoring the casual stares from his staff.

As they parted, Don quirked his eye ridge once more at Bara, smirking sheepishly. He then added another thought to the subject at hand as he cocked his head, "Of course, I wouldn't mind if that menu included some sushi!"

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The next evening, Bara was in their Fifth Avenue penthouse that she shared with Don. He had flown out to Russia only a few hours before with his brother, Raphael, leaving her behind to manage his business. Along with working in the lab downtown, she was now helping him with his schedule and other details to his large company. Currently she was in his penthouse office, going over a list of prospective investors for his latest invention. Most of them were from overseas and representing countries that had once lived under communist rule. Now, with their newfound freedom, many entrepreneurs were emerging from these countries, eager to engage with commerce and to experience financial success.

As it was, Don had found that Bara had a gift for discerning the written word, her ability to read between the lines of the many proposals a bonus in their relationship. She was as much of a valuable asset to Don's business in administration as she had been with helping him with their many projects in the lab.

Sitting there in his den, now, she was checking over the finer detail of a particular proposal.

Suddenly, the phone rang.

Bara allowed the automated receiver to answer the call, continuing to concentrate on the papers in front of her. She was sitting in Don's over-stuffed office chair, leaning back with a cup of tea in one hand, while the contracts in question were in her other. She yawned a bit, and then glanced over to the clock on the desk. It was one o'clock in the morning.

"Goodness, who's calling at this hour?" she muttered aloud in surprise, but then thought that it might be Don.

However, in order to avoid waking them up, Don had calibrated the machine to ring just once during the night. Consequently, the automated receiver took the call before she could. Bara decided to let the automated message do the honors, though, hoping– if it was him – that Don would leave a message. She missed hearing his baritone voice. Having a recording of it would help her get through the time that he was away from her. She smiled at the thought, anxious, now, to hear what he might say, and ready to pick the phone up before he ended the call.

Nevertheless, as the outgoing message ended, instead of Don's voice coming through the speaker, a strange tone began emanating almost immediately from the machine.

Almost instantly, Bara's expression glazed over. The papers dropped from her hand and the teacup she was holding slipped from her fingers, hitting the arm of the chair before falling to the oak floor and shattering into pieces. However, neither the warmth of her tea as it splashed all over her legs nor the sound of the china breaking across the floor distracted her. She was now nearly rigid in the chair, almost as if she were at attention.

One could easily say that she was transfixed, as if under a spell.

As she stared straight ahead, the tone continued, a single tone that did not waver in its note, but sustaining its sound for approximately three minutes. Then, the whistle pitched upwards a bit, rising in volume, and then warbled, with the call ending just as quickly as it had begun.

Thirty seconds later, Bara's eyes blinked a few times and then it seemed as if she had just woken up. She sat there, relaxed now, yet completely confused. Realizing that her legs were wet, she looked down and noticed that her cup had shattered beyond repair along the floor by her feet.

"Oh, I must have fallen asleep," she moaned. "Kuso - and I've broken my favorite cup, too!" Bara exclaimed, one Japanese word emphasizing her displeasure. Sighing, she looked at her lap and, seeing the papers lying there, muttered, "Well, that killed my evening. Guess I should get to bed, anyway. I just know that Don will call early and he'll be a little irritated with me if I'm still up when he does."

After cleaning the mess and reluctantly throwing out her destroyed teacup, Bara returned the papers to the file cabinet and locked it. Then, the woman slipped out of the office and made her way towards the bedroom.

As she walked, she stretched and yawned, wishing that Don could have delayed his trip overseas. She thought about the fact that Raphael had gone with him and it made her a little nervous. It wasn't that she didn't trust Raph; it was just that every time he and Don returned from their overseas excursions, Raph had a new cut or bruise. It made her wonder a great deal what it was that her fiancé and his brother did to warrant such injuries. With the wedding only three weeks away, she was becoming anxious and maybe a bit jittery, too. The last thing that she would want would be for her future brother-in-law to come back from Europe too injured to attend. With their limited list of guests, Bara did not want to see even one of them not there.

As she passed through the living room, she checked the area to make sure that things were orderly. She liked to make sure that, come morning a neat and tidy house greeted her. Smiling at the exactness of the room, she then casually glanced over at a wall that displayed a variety of the same kind of décor that Don had in his office downtown. She smiled.

There was a single, large picture, which drew her attention first. It depicted a battle scene between two clans of Samurai, all outfitted in their traditional armor, and riding impressive warhorses as the scene captured the major portion of the canvas. Then, accented underneath, hung a single, sheathed katana sword displayed horizontally between intricately ornate wooden holders.

Bara was somewhat amused that Don had a taste for such armament. Then, as she continued looking at the collection, she slowly came to a stop and turned to face the weapon head-on. A glazed expression suddenly crossed her face, the same detachment coming over her that she had experienced unknowingly in the office only moments before.

Now, as she stared at the sword, she walked up to it and, with one hand, she slowly reached over and gracefully slipped the implement off its holder. With the other hand, her right hand, she grasped the delicately engraved hilt and eased the sword out from its sheath. The soft chafing sound of metal against leather caused her arm to erupt in goose bumps.

Still, Bara's detached expression never wavered.

Now, as she stood there, the empty sheath in her left hand, the brandished sword in her right, she turned the weapon at different angles as if inspecting it. The gallery light above played along its length, reflecting the radiance of the mirror-like steel into Bara's face. Tucking the empty sheath under her arm, she then brought her left hand up to the sharp side of the silvery blade, and gently, delicately, ran her finger along its edge.

As the forged steel cut easily into her skin, Bara never flinched. Soon, a thin line of red oozed from the newly made cut on her finger, trickling a bit along its length in a thin ribbon of blood. Noiselessly and unnoticed by her, a single drop fell to the floor, staining it. She then shoved her finger into her mouth in reflex. Finally, and still in a dream-like state, she re-sheathed the sword and replaced it back onto its wooden supports. She then turned towards the bedrooms once again and began walking.

Just steps away from the double door to the bedroom, however, Bara seemed to 'wake up' as she did earlier back in the office. This time, she grimaced, bringing her left hand up and looking at her bleeding finger as if for the very first time.

"That's strange; I thought for sure I was careful when cleaning up the broken cup." Bara went directly to the bathroom and procured some peroxide and bandages from a cupboard. After she had treated her finger and wrapped it, she thought nothing more about it. She then headed back to the bedroom, undressed for bed, and was soon under the silken covers of the sheets and comforter.

It did not take long for Bara to fall asleep, where she was already tired from an evening of going over Don's paperwork. After a while, she was dreaming dreams meant only for her beloved.

However, as she dreamt, the dreams slowly morphed into scenes of harrowing battles, with blood and mayhem playing out in her mind. While she slept and dreamt, she tossed and turned fitfully. Soon, soft moans of despair interrupted the silence of the night.

Then, as her phantasms intensified, nightmares once again began to plague her, the very same nightmares that Don had thought were done and over with a month before.

Now, she began to perspire as she had done back then, quickly drenching the bottom sheet with her sweat as she thrashed around. The comforter ended up on the floor, first, soon followed by the top sheet. Now, she lay fully exposed to the night air of the bedroom, her hair matted in wetness along her face as she tossed and turned.

As the night wore on and as the dreams seem to intensify, Bara once again began to scream out in terror, as she had done only weeks before, still fully asleep.

Unfortunately, this time Don was not there to wake her.

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COMMENTS – Once again, my appreciation to all who read and who reviewed. ZIPTANGO – JESSIE LANDROZ – LEONARDO MYSTIC – CHIBI ROSE ANGEL - LUNAR-NINJA – RAMICA -