A/N:

Ok, ok. I know what you're all thinking—this story is back? After ten months? Wtf?

I have perfectly stupid excuses as to why I suddenly disappeared for ten months. One, to be blunt, is due to mental health. You know how it be. Second, because I had decided to focus more time on a novel I'm working on that I hope to maybe self-publish one day. Third, because TMNT 2012 was wrapped up and I felt discouraged to write for the dying fandom. Fourth—writer's block, which I still feel like I'm struggling with.

BUT I absolutely love my story here, I missed it so, so, much, I just couldn't help but feel a rush of determination to continue. The first half of this chapter was actually written all those months ago, but I finished it up rather quickly, which hopefully means I'll get chapters 9 and 10 done quickly as well.

I'm really, really sorry for seeming like I abandoned this story. Actually, I'm thinking of reposting this story again with all the chapters finished this time. But don't worry, I'm going to finish it up here before I go reposting chapters once a week again. You guys have waited long enough.

There's two more chapters after this and an epilogue, and then I will create a part two of this story, which will be titled Double Helix: Amber Afternoon.

Again, I am SO sorry I left for so long. You guys might want to reread or skim the previous chapters as a refresher.

BUT HERE WE GO, DOUBLE HELIX: SHADED SUNRISE IS BACK!

XXX

Chapter 8: Separate Perspectives

Renet Tilley, at a time, had convinced herself that she was fearless. That she had the blindest, yet most secure fate. That no matter how powerful life's gales came to buffer her, she would remain steadfast.

Yet now she was wavering, teetering on her tightrope and wondering if it had all been just juvenile ignorance.

Playing with the pocket watch that was chained around her neck, she tried to ignore the slimy guilt that was treacherously crawling up her spine. If her parents found out that she lied and was at another party, she was sure they'd ground her until after New Year's.

Granted, this was not nearly as intense as Shinigami's. April had simply decided to throw a small one to congratulate Casey, Raph, and Mona for their first show. It was really more of a get-together.

Renet had visited Mr. Jones's garage maybe once or twice, but it was way more cordial with April's decorations. Banners, streamers, balloons—April O'Neil was not the type to skimp out on parties. Or get-togethers.

Friendly conversations levitated and loomed over her like a warm blanket, though the sunny words merely covered the bitter feelings that were bottled inside her.

An unforgiving November breeze forced her to put her hands in her jacket pockets, naturally nudging the person beside her for warmth.

Michelangelo.

That was who was beside her. Of course, it was Mikey.

Wearing that stupid striped beanie he always wore, pom-pom dangling from the center of his forehead.

Mikey and Renet have been inseparable since they were nine—or since Shinigami. Her eyes fell to her shoes as she jutted her lip.

Shinigami was a huge topic in her friend circle these days. Renet was surprised she wasn't here right now.

On looking, she didn't say a word as she studied her friend.

Like summer fireflies trapped in a glass jar, bright light illuminated inside of him. Visible rays always peeked through those sparkling blue eyes, and even through his many ripped and torn edges. Lately, though, that sunshine grew less intense, as if he were pulling the threads and sewing the seams shut.

She hated this new development in their friendship. This fake front she was putting for everyone else, that Mikey really was hanging out with her when he was really out training at Bradford's Dojo. She was in on his secret, yet she had never felt so disconnected.

He was spending most of his time there. If it wasn't school, he was training. Mikey was always quick to assure her, but she still felt pushed away. Shut out.

So much so, that even when she was with him, she found it hard to find words and what to say. He seemed more excited to hang out with Timothy or Shinigami than to hear anything about her.

Honestly, why am I here?

Clinking silverware on glass stopped her thoughts.

"Attention everyone!" April announced, steadying herself as she stepped onto a wobbly folding chair whilst holding a red solo cup, "I'd like to give a toast for Casey, Raph, and Mona for their first show as Still Undecided—"

"That's not our name," the three band mates corrected in unison.

With a playful roll of her eyes, April continued, "Well, whatever it's called, you guys were great. Cheers!" She raised her cup in the air, a chorus of cheers following after.

As soon as Renet turned, she was greeted by Michelangelo, his freckled face stretched into a smile that was big enough to make his cheeks dimple.

"Cheers?" his red solo cup was shoved in front of her.

Oh yeah. That's why I'm here.

That November chill would've felt great right about now. Failing to fend off a smile of her own, she brought her cup to his so that the lips touched.

"Cheers."

And with that, Mikey left to toast with every single other person in the building.

Taking a deep breath as an attempt to dismiss the rosiness in her cheeks, Renet was heading to find Napoleon and Jason when Raphael suddenly stepped out in front.

"Oh, hey," Raph said to her, "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

She blinked. In the five years she's known Raphael, he had never asked to speak to her in private.

Scrunching up her face in confusion, her voice came out uncertain.

"Uh, yeah, sure."

With a gentle hand on her back, Raph guided her through the guests and to a secluded area.

She swallowed. What was he going to say to her? Did something happen? Did he find out about the secret? Renet stood as Raph sighed and leaned against the back wall.

"Listen," he started, "I just wanted to thank you for what you've been doing. With Mikey and everything, I mean. That whole Pigeon Pete thing had him pretty messed up."

Earth eyes were pulled to the ground, Raph shifting his weight so that he didn't rely so much on the wall as lines drew on his face. "He brought it up in almost every conversation. He was losing sleep over it. Not eating as much..."

His words had come out quiet, yet bold, like a thunderstorm rumbling far, far away.

Her stomach tossed and turned.

His aloofness dissolved as soon as he looked back at her, a small grin growing.

"But ever since he's been going to see you throughout the week," he continued, "He stopped acting like that. He bounced back from it—he doesn't even talk about it anymore. I don't know how you do it, but you seem to be the only one to get through to him at times. Whatever you're doing, I just wanted to say thanks."

He hasn't stopped.

Renet's fingers found their way back to the pocket watch. "Oh, i-it's no big deal. Mikey's my best friend, I'd do anything to make sure he's ok."

Raph stood upright, placing his hand on her shoulder before giving it a comforting squeeze. "He's lucky to have you looking out for him," he told her.

"Yeah..." she tried to smile in reassurance, but it was short-lived.

Beautiful curls and leather were what sucked Raph's attention, Renet watching him and Mona go up the stairs to the loft.

Saliva was forced down her throat, her stomach still doing summersaults. Things were getting messy not only for Mikey, but now it was bleeding onto her.

At first glance, Renet assumed the ground had seemed solid, solid enough to handle the weight of the situation. But she felt now as if she was in knee-deep, the gritty truth reddening her skin raw. Shame was sticking to her like tar, swallowing her slowly.

How did she allow this to drag on this long without intervening? How did she let this lie consume her?

Why did she let this happen in the first place?

Enough was enough. Each grain of sand that filled her lungs like an hourglass was beginning to make her choke. This whole sticky mess had revealed itself to be quicksand, and she intended on getting Mikey and herself out of it.

Pupils linked and hooked onto the iconic beanie as soon as she saw it, walking straight to Michelangelo before fear and doubt could sink their claws and pin her down.

He was like the sun, in the center while Jason, Napoleon, Casey, and April surrounded him, speaking without a care in the world. Something that, under any other circumstance, would've made her feel light.

Instead, she entered their solar system like a bullet, "Mikey, can we talk? No, I need to talk to you. Alone."

The transition from untainted bliss to deep concern was instant. Mikey glanced over at the others before returning his uncertain gaze to her.

"Oh, uh, sure."

Letting go of her eye contact, she knew her foolish bravery was running out of time. This was the hard part.

Wordlessly the two ended up in a lonely corner of the garage, Renet feeling Mikey's soft hand slip into her's, which only made matters more difficult.

"Is something wrong?" he whispered.

Eyelashes fluttered as her heart rammed against bones.

This has to stop.

She let go of his hand.

"I can't do this anymore," she managed to spill out despite the knot in her throat, "I can't lie for you anymore."

"What?" she heard his voice strain, "What do you mean?"

There was that unsteady smile that he often expressed, that kind that wobbled on a thin line of delirious optimism and grim actuality.

She knew she was going to hate to see it fall. Exhaling, Renet collected what little courage she had left and stared into wide eyes.

"I hate having to lie, Mikey," the simple statement was already enough to feel liberating, the temptation to exert more only growing, "I hate having to lie to your brothers about where you are, I hate having to lie to my parents about where I am—they don't even know I'm here right now—and most of all, I...I hate lying to myself and thinking I'm ok with this."

That smile did fall, and it fell hard. Deep frown lines truly showed how intense the gravity of the conversation was to him.

"Woah, woah, slow down," he said to her, "You said you were ok with this, that you were on my side. Did you lie to me?"

The pain in his voice was like an arrow piercing her conscience, but her own fiery emotions had already begun to take over.

"I don't know, maybe," she answered exasperatedly, "But I can't do this anymore, I can't lie anymore."

"Renet—"

"Do you know how hard it was to convince my parents to let me go to Shinigami's party?" she vented, "I had to clean the entire house, and that was after I lied and said Leo would be there."

Looking smug, he lifted his finger matter-of-factly, "But he did end up coming."

She shook her head, "That's not the point. You know, I didn't even have fun at that party. You made it seem like it would be one of the greatest nights of my life, but you didn't even spend time with me. You spent more time trying to flirt and make a move with Shinigami than with me."

"I know," Mikey's shoulders drooped, "I feel totally bad about that, and I promise I'll totally make it up to you. I just, I don't know, I saw that she wasn't dancing with anyone and I had to take my chance—if your crush was there, wouldn't you do the same? If it helps, I don't think she's into me. She said—Wait, what does this have to do with the lying thing?"

He was there.

Renet crossed her arms as she sighed.

"I'm done, Mikey. I can't do this anymore. And I can't let you go on with this ninja-vigilante training."

She saw his muscles tense, Mikey becoming deathly still.

"Are you gonna rat me out now?" he murmured.

"If you don't stop lying to Leo, and if you don't stop trying to dig yourself a grave, then I'll be forced to tell him myself."

"Wha—dude! Why are you doing this? You're my best friend!"

"You just answered your own question."

"Friends support each other."

"Friends look out for each other," both of their voices had raised at this point, her's having just raised above his, "Do you honestly think you can just go out there and beat up gang members like you're some comic book hero? Do you really think that's logical? That that's safe—"

"Daniel Pennington."

His voice had plummeted precariously low, body rigid and lips tight. She was taken aback.

"...What?"

He stepped closer to her, "Zach Goodman, Caitlyn Frost, Abigail Finn, Candace Fine, Chester Manly—"

"Mikey, what are you—"

"And Peter Brood," he rasped, "They're all out there, Renet. They're all still out there. They're still missing. Kidnapped, tortured for all we know. Dead."

"It is not your job."

"Then tell me, who's is it?" Mikey scoffed, "The police? Well, let me tell you, those were just seven people out of that list, 'Net. Six of them were reported after Peter. That's six more kids being taken in less than three months. And none of these people have been found. So, keep on telling me how this is their job, and not mine. Go ahead. But as a citizen of Manhattan—as a human being—it is just as much my job to protect people as it is theirs."

She clutched her pocket watch, fingers turning white.

"I don't know why you suddenly feel the need to carry this burden, but you can't just go looking for danger—"

"And why not? Ok, why not? Renet, I am not the same little boy you met five years ago. I'm not that same sick, weak, child in a hospital bed. I can do this. I know I can. Napoleon and Jason know I can. Timothy and Sensei Bradford know I can. They believe in me. But why don't you? Why don't you trust me like you used to?"

A second time he'd coined the phrase. Airways felt constricting, Renet crinkling her nose as she realized she had no words.

Her friend let out a sigh, deflating and appearing more loose.

"If you don't want to lie anymore, fine. You don't have to make up alibis for me anymore," he said seriously, "Snitch, tell Leo for all I care. But it's not gonna stop me. My dad would've wanted me to do this."

At that, he distanced himself. Her heart twinged.

"Mikey, he wouldn't..." she took his hand, "Your dad—"

Wincing, Michelangelo quickly retracted his hand with an intense, pained look in his eyes.

"My dad was murdered!"

Her breath hitched. She blinked, taking a step back.

Mikey stood there, chest rising and falling laboriously.

Regaining herself, Renet looked over. Jason, Napoleon, April, and Casey's conversation had flatlined, all of them staring in disbelief.

Jason and Napoleon now shuffled towards them, the two boys checking Mikey without delay.

"Hey, c'mon Mike," Napoleon gently put a hand on his shoulder, "Let's get something to eat over at the snack table, ok?"

Mikey numbly nodded, allowing Napoleon to direct him away from her.

Any apologies she had were stuck on the roof of her mouth, her tongue having yet to speak them. She helplessly watched as Napoleon left with Mikey, Jason behind them.

Jason lingered, looking at her with a mixed expression that she believed was disquiet.

Her jaw unhinged.

"It's getting...I think I'll just go home. Curfew."

Nodding his head with understanding, Jason's eyes eventually broke away as he followed the others, leaving Renet alone.

Hand still wrapped around her pocket watch, she didn't bother to lift her head as she swiftly left the auto garage.

That November chill came rushing back, pricking her exposed skin.

Renet had never really seen stars. Being a native to city life, she never had the chance or opportunity. Though, she wished they would light her path right now.

Staring at the black sky, tears stung her cheeks against the cold air. What had happened? Why was she leaving right now? She knew she should've turned back around, but in the end, she didn't.

Walking along the pavement on her journey home, she realized that the two of them were now completely submerged into this predicament.

And Renet now knew that she was not fearless. In fact, she was nowhere near fearless. She was petrified.

She had lost balance on that tightrope, and now she was falling. Falling, and knowing there was no safety net to catch her.

XXX

"My dad will lose his mind if he catches us like this," the laugh slipped like vapor from her pink lips as the door shut behind them, April's arms draped over the shoulders of Casey Jones.

Bemoaning from beneath them, the floorboards squeaked, the teens' foreheads touching as they caught their breath.

When everyone had gone home from the party, it struck April that with everything going on, she hadn't given much quality time to Casey. Appeasing to the guilt nagging the back of her mind, the two had somehow went from being in Mr. Jones's garage, to being in her bedroom.

Studying, the way his nose scrunched up and how the corners of his own lips tugged into a smirk, she couldn't help but feel her face grow warm.

"Let him lose it," his words melted like cotton and into another kiss, hands brushing through her red hair.

They weren't stupid—they never crossed lines too far whenever they were at her apartment. Both knew way better than to trust that her father wouldn't interrupt and barge in. Kissing alone was enough to send Mr. O'Neil into a frenzy. But clearly, she was too swept up in the rushing moment, because right now, she really didn't care about that risk.

As soon as he pulled back, however, she detected the slightest hitch of his breath and a sharp pinch of his eyebrows.

"What is it?" she asked.

Casey straightened, looking past her as his footsteps became soft like a phantom.

"What's that all about?" he gestured towards her bulletin board.

It was covered in photographs and newsprint with only crimson strings of yarn bridging every scrap of paper together.

Mikey hadn't been the only one to be invested with the case of Peter Brood, though she must admit, she wasn't too curious about the disappearance itself. Instead, she was much more concerned and intrigued by what else had happened that night—her vision.

She hadn't had one since then, and no matter how hard she tried to trigger another, she had gotten no luck.

None of it made any clear sense. The Purple Dragons, Peter, her dream. There was no common thread. So far, the only thread that connected them at all was the red yarn on her cork board.

But she knew there had to be one. Her vision was too vivid and troubling to have been something merely from her imagination. It was real. This was real.

"This is for the school newspaper," she attempted to explain, following after him.

"Uh-huh..." he leaned in closer to examine the board more intently. "Who is that?" Casey pointed to a specific photograph.

April stood beside her boyfriend and frowned.

"Peter Brood. The student who went missing."

"Ah, yeah, the kid Mikey was going on about," eyes raked over the board up and down, "But you know, I don't really think the high school newspaper really needs all this."

Casey turned to her with a suspicious eyebrow raised.

April stared at the missing boy's face, sighing in defeat. "Ok...maybe it's a bit more personal."

"Personal?" his voice softened, "Did you know him?"

Gently removing the tack from cork, she held the photograph in her hands, gliding her thumb across it.

"Casey?"

"Yeah?"

Heart now in her throat, April decided that she didn't want to keep this hidden from Casey anymore.

"Do you believe in the impossible?"

"What do you mean?" he sounded unsure.

She faced him, tugging at her pigtail.

"The night Peter disappeared," she held up his picture in between them, "I had this dream. I had a dream that I was running from the Purple Dragons, and that they were chasing me down. In the dream, I felt like...I felt like I wasn't in my own body. Like I was, but I wasn't. I wasn't myself in the dream, Casey. I was Peter Brood."

April reconnected with Casey, him watching her with a rather deep sense of scrutiny. Peter's portrait was placed back onto the desk, resting under her palm. Any dread of deprecation was dismissed. She would not belittle her own beliefs. Not anymore.

Ending her boyfriend's agonizing suspense, she let go of her inhibitions and her breath.

"I'm psychic."

The power of words were sometimes underestimated by April. Liberation followed her confession, the previous compression having been slowly driving her mad. Now it was out in the open, the weight of the oppressing chains now being thrown into the air. It was even tempting, almost, to unlock her windows and reveal to the world, repercussions being swept away with the wind. Secrets could be smothering.

Reticence merely rippled through the stagnant air, however, as she realized Casey had yet to speak.

"Well?" Floorboards remained silent, April standing still as she stared at him, given that staring was the only thing he provided back. Gesturing with her eyes to prompt some kind of response, it took him a few good blinks for any hint of expression to occur. Though when it did appear, it didn't appear supportive.

Casey's voice had raised a few octaves. "What?! Are you serious?" he laughed with some hesitance, "Are you trying to prank me or something? I'm not falling for it."

Astringency made her bristle—never before had his laughter stung. Almost enough to make her eyes water. Avoiding the chance for her body to illustrate her feelings, she grit her teeth.

"I am serious, Casey," pangs of offense caused her voice to strain, "Dead serious. I had a vision of Pigeon Pete."

The person that was supposed to always be by her side was now backing away from her.

"You've lost it, April," he said crassly.

Biting down on her bottom lip, fiery pride forbade herself to let her concerns be mistreated, especially by Casey Jones. She scampered towards her bedroom door, barricading his only possible escape as she glared at him directly.

"Casey you have to promise me, ok? Promise you won't tell anyone about this, especially my dad. Promise?"

As soon as her downy, desperate pleads were spoken, Casey's disbelieving conduct suddenly receded away. Shoulders slack, he now approached her as if she were a fearful animal.

"Woah...you really are serious. I'm sorry. I won't tell anyone babe, promise," he quietly assured, "Does anyone else know?"

Allowing herself to unravel like twine, she loosened up, sighing in relief over his quick change of heart. She decided it was best to ignore the stings of his initial reaction.

April expelled her exhaustion with another sigh.

"I thought maybe Donnie could make sense of it. Find the science behind it. But..." she moved to her bed, plopping down onto it, "I'm starting to think he doesn't believe me."

Memories returned to the Halloween bash, specifically to the little garden table in white. To how their conversation flat-lined as soon as her troubling theory was mentioned. To how Donatello seemed to not even bother remembering these troubles. Their secret—her secret, one she selectively chose to share to no other soul but him, up until now. Something she had to overcome fear to accomplish, something where she had to rip out the staples keeping her heart sealed. She exposed herself about her internal conflicts and anxiety, and it was as if Donnie could do nothing but subtly patronize. Perhaps, he didn't even care.

She tugged at the bands in her hair, releasing her pigtails from their tight grip to ease the aching from the back of her head.

Another quiet emanated in the space between the two. Casey joined her, laying on her bed as they gazed up at her ceiling as if it were the most captivating picture.

The softness of another's hand soon interlocked with her own.

"I believe in you." A delicate squeeze.

April turned over to Casey, elbow propping herself. She gave a half-smile.

Casey was spontaneous, the galaxy's greatest adventure wrapped up into one boy. Unpredictability didn't always play in her favor, but the never-ending possibilities was what kept the magic alive. Adrenaline, but also serenity. She lifted his hand up to kiss it sweetly.

"And that's why I love you."

Then, the couple resumed to what they had started before the interruption. Fingers running through hair, breathless smiles in the in-betweens, sheets dangerously seductive.

It was in the passionate almost-to-be when it finally happened.

She stopped kissing, a small gasp followed by a greedy grin.

Images appeared across the canvas of her mind. Brand new, and not something rehashed. April sensed it, felt it. Raindrops in her lashes. A pretty promise. A prediction and sensation much more pleasant than the one of Peter.

She opened her eyes and saw concern.

"April, what is it?" Casey asked, "Did it happen? Did you have a vision?"

She nodded, unable to stop smiling like a lovesick teenager, "I think so."

"What was it about?"

Oh, how she could feel the red thread of fate wrap around her finger.

Sitting up in bed, she leaned against the headboard. She smirked.

"I think I'm gonna keep this one to myself."

The boy pouted, but she was quick to peck the protruded lip.

Man, would, dad lose his mind right now.

XXX

Mayhem past the midnight hour—an adaptation to surviving the many waging wars that would clash around her. Scaling and scoping above the battle, a silent, but calculating observer. Camouflaged in shadows. Waiting for the moment to strike. A serpent coiled and hidden among the blades.

Secrecy and ferocity—that was the way of the kunoichi, after all.

Karai stared upon the reflection resting on her vanity.

Smudged and smeared, the colors of makeup became ugly. Black and red, like charcoal and blood. Poison lips and nocturnal eyes. She took the towelette in her hand and continued to gingerly wipe away at her nightly disguise.

Mansions harbored nothing but emptiness. They carried echoes, but drew the attention of hungry eyes. Though she was an expert, and she knew how to slip through her own defenses, slithering into her bedroom definitely way past curfew. Like an American teenager. She could've scoffed.

Towelettes were tossed away, her pale face now glistening with a lack of imperfections. Pastel skin, pure as if washing away all the sins she'd committed that night. Ones that would never be encased in a reconciliation room.

Karai kept all cards close to her chest—that was what she was taught. By both being raised by a ninjutsu master, and a CEO.

She watched as bristles smoothly glided through her long brunette hair as she brushed. She had to make it look nice. Had to make it look real.

It was during her routine when she felt shivers down her spine. A stark contrast in aura.

Instincts were keen, and she knew her intuition could never betray.

Effortlessly soundless, Karai stood up, scanning the bedroom. Shinigami lay in her own bed across from her. She didn't want to wake her—or any other ears that dare threaten her.

Because she knew someone was watching.

Still peering around and trying to hone in on her suspicions, she took an interest at the bouquet stemming out of a glass vase. She lifted it from the vanity, paging through petals. There was something near. Her body and mind were too in sync to toy with her.

Feeling under the vanity, she felt nothing, and that's when the idea dawned on her.

She stared at the mirror. With finesse, she quietly snaked her fingers behind it. And there it was.

Tearing off the tape, she brought her hand back around to reveal the object.

An audio bug. Small and blinking softly with a heartbeat of machinery. She smirked.

How cute.

Tantalizing its planter, Karai brought it to her lips, and spoke aloud for the first time that night in a low whisper.

"Amateur."

Without restraint, Ms. Orouku set down the bug, crushing it under the dirtied boot she had yet to remove.

With that, she hid all evidence, slipping into bed to sleep with one eye open. She always had one eye open.

That was the way of the kunoichi, after all.

XXX

The fallout of the argument involved a lot more Neapolitan ice cream than she'd expect.

It had only been a day since Renet ran out of Mr. Jones's garage in regretful tears, still feeling conviction from an unidentifiable source within her soul. Was it for not wishing to participate in his vigilante agenda? For not having alerted anyone about his potentially perilous plans? Was it for speaking on behalf of Mr. Hamato? Maybe it was a mix of everything. One thing was certain in the confusion—it was strangling her and causing her eyes to water.

Finding sanctuary in her bedroom as soon as she had gotten home, she instantly spammed her friend with multiple desperate pleads for forgiveness. She even left a few voicemails.

"Mikey...I'm so sorry. I just worry about you, ok? I can't help it. I'm scared. But I shouldn't have attacked you like I did, it was not an ok thing for me to do. Especially because...I...like you."

She had been quick to delete that one. But either way, Mikey had yet to reach out to her. And that neglect was what was most devastating.

Silent treatment was not a typical Mikey strategy. She hated not knowing how he was, how he was feeling, why he wouldn't just answer. Seams must've been drawn and sewn shut completely at this point, given his lack of opening up. This situation was much too foggy now to be able to see the light he used to shine, throwing her into a dark landscape she didn't know how to navigate.

Fear constrained her from going to visit him. She couldn't handle the rejection. Not from Mikey. She could never.

So now she sat on the linen couch, licking the leftover chocolate syrup at the bottom of the bowl for some sugary comfort as T.V. commercials flickered by. Quiet evenings were common in Renet's household. Especially the after school hours, where both parents had yet to come back from working.

God, going back to school would be so awkward. She blew at the stray hair that fell out of her bun.

The Full House theme song was playing in the background when she saw her mother approaching in her peripheral vision. She clenched her spoon. Motherly instincts were supernatural force, Renet believed, and she knew she must've unknowingly made it activate. Inching closer, it wasn't long before her mom sat beside her without a word. A hand fell to her knee.

Renet knew how extremely intuitive her mom was, so there was no use in denying her obvious pain. Although, between the swelling of her eyes and the red that rimmed around them, she was sure that anyone could see through her like glass.

"Mom?" she asked, though without looking at her.

"Yeah?"

She set the bowl on the wooden coffee table and adjusted her body to face her while she focused on her thumbs.

"If someone you really cared about was doing something potentially harmful, would you try to talk them out of it? Even if they believe it's something they have to do, and they get upset? Should you support and help them, or should you stop them?"

There was a brief pause, and then, "Does this hypothetical someone happen to be Michelangelo?"

Renet whipped her head up in surprise, pressing her lips into a thin line.

Subdued to silence, she could only watch as her mother laughed. "Sweetheart, you've cared for Michael since he was on dialysis. You'd always tell me that you'd marry him one day."

The tease left her cheeks burnt. "That was when I was a little kid, Mom."

A mother's smile refused to be hidden. "I know, I know," she fanned away the memory and calmed, "But you still deeply care about him."

She sunk into the cushions. A tsunami of nostalgia came crashing down, aching for the simplicity of youth. For those times of being carefree that the Purple Dragons had now ripped away from her. The times where her and Mikey would read comic books together, have movie marathons, and ride their skateboards along the horizon lines of New York. The times where they'd stay up too late in living room forts, play arcade games, but most of all, she missed just talking. Being able to lie beside him, laughing at awful jokes, or wondering how the world works through the innocent lenses of a child's perspective.

Life became so much brighter when she had stumbled upon his hospital room. He inspired a courage within herself that she had never known existed, expanding her universe while shrinking it all the same.

Mikey had always been at the other end of her tightrope, encouraging her every step. But now, she could not see him, darkness creeping up until it had swallowed him whole. A canyon split between them, all because of the evil that wouldn't stop chasing Mikey.

If only she could run back in time.

"Why does he have to act like suddenly the world is on his shoulders?" she vocalized her pain, "Why does he think he has to do big things to make a difference? Stupid things."

Her mother propped an elbow to rest on the back cushion. "Well, what is it that he's doing?"

Mikey's words came to mind. If you don't want to lie anymore, fine. You don't have to make up alibis for me anymore...But it's not gonna stop me.

She chewed the inside of her cheek.

"He just...thinks it's his job to save everyone. Like...Almost like he doesn't even care about the consequences. Like he doesn't care about himself. Why is he acting like this?" her voice shook.

Imaginary images and scenarios of Mikey being broken and bruised was enough to produce more of yesterday's tears.

Without having to say anything, her mother took her in her arms, Renet resting her head on her shoulder.

"Well, you have to keep in mind that he's been through quite a lot," she said to her, "His mother, being in the hospital for months. That's enough to make anyone begin to feel helpless. And what happened with his father...with all these traumas, I'm not surprised that he's developing some sort of hero complex. Those things are enough to give anyone psychological effects and personality changes."

A single rebel tear trailed down her rosy face as she curled into her mother's side.

"What should I do?" she cracked with desperation, "What if one day he thinks he's helping, but is really doing something stupid? What if he gets hurt?"

"If he's not in any immediate danger, I think the best thing you can do is just to make sure you're there for him."

Her jaw went stiff. "What if I don't support what he's doing?"

"Ultimately, you can't control what another person does sweetheart. This is his path to discover. You don't have to support his actions to be there for him."

"I don't want to be involved, I don't want to get dragged into anything."

"Then don't talk. Listen. You don't have to patrol his life to be a part of it."

The mother and daughter sat there for a moment, ignoring the laugh tracks crackling through the T.V. speakers. Renet clutched her pocket watch.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Will he heal?"

Her mother drew her in closer.

"You know what they say. It may take awhile, but time is said to heal those wounds. They may never go away completely, but he's a resilient kid. You just need to be patient." She planted a kiss on the crown of her head. Renet sniffled.

Pocket watch still in hand, she allowed the time spent in her mother's arms to let her self-repair.

More teardrops managed to fight their way, and Renet worried that it would soon be a losing battle to suppress any more.

"Renet," her mother eventually spoke again and gently lifted her chin, "Can you tell me what you're afraid Michael is doing?"

Her whole life she was taught to run to the arms of her parents when struggling. To not keep harmful secrets, and to lean onto them for support. But would this cause the canyon to separate even wider? Would her relationship with Mikey become completely severed? She wiped away the tears, even if more were threatening to break out.

The gleam in her mother's golden eyes didn't help the internal conflict.

"Well...he...he wants—"

"You would not believe what I just saw!"

She nearly jumped out of her skin when her father suddenly barged into their home. Sweat weighing down his graying hair, he fumbled through the door with heavy breaths in an obvious distressed manner. Renet turned off the T.V.

"What is it? What happened?" her mother quickly got up to her feet and rushed over to him, Renet following her lead.

"I saw those thugs, those Purple Dragons that have been the talk of the neighborhood on my way home from work," he said, deep lines creasing his forehead, "They rushed past me, and it was clear they had just pulled some kind of heist. They were in a hurry, running away with these papers, one with a briefcase."

"Oh my god, are you ok? Did they hurt you?" her mother asked while Renet remained speechless. Anxiety had already gotten a hold on her vocal chords.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he put them at ease, "And I would've chased after them, or called the police while it was happening, but they were armed and ready."

"Were there any other witnesses? You know you have to report this." She heard her mother, though she sounded far away as her thoughts were being devoured by fear. It was already happening—the Purple Dragons have already infiltrated. She expected the gateway to be Michelangelo, but it seems they have taken the backdoor. She held onto the pocket watch even tighter.

"Yeah, I know, but I had to make sure and show you I'm alright. Also, before I left, I found this."

Renet perked up, curiosity rising alongside her panic. He handed the object to her mom, where she examined it and frowned.

"Mom, what is it?" She tried to crane over to view it herself.

Her mom only stared at hands, eyebrows quirked. "Huh, that's odd."

"Mom."

"It's nothing," she said, and placed the object onto the counter, "It's just an empty blood sample container."

XXX

Preview for Chapter 9: Starting Fires and Sinking Ships !

"Are you trying to tell me you saw the future? Are you Raven Baxter now?"

"Michelangelo, you lied to me—you've been lying to me. You deliberately disobeyed me!"

"You wouldn't teach me!"

Coming soon !

XXX

ZXIJ YBCLOB QEB PQLOJ.