Disclaimer – Nope, still not mine. Beth is, though.

Getting closer to the end. But, I have to bore the life out of you before then, so that whatever I write here on out will seem more interesting. LOL Gotta get this girl to the next point and, as sometimes happens, the in-between-time can often be simplistic.

Anyway, thanks for reading and for leaving reviews! It's what has kept me going, despite the long breaks between updates.

Be blessed,

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Chapter 39 – Turn-Around

It didn't take long for Mike to jimmy the lock on Beth's apartment door. In no time the five of them were soon inside her living room before any of the other tenants knew that they were even there.

Feeling better than she had earlier – now that she was finally home again, Beth went about the task of heating up some water in her tea kettle for the tea she promised her friends. Before too long, she and the four turtles each had a steaming cup of the vanilla caramel brew.

As he sat on the sofa and after a few sips from his cup, Mike was the first to comment. "Ya know, Beth, I didn't think I'd like this, but..." he took another taste to make sure and then, after he gulped it down, "it's not bad…kind of like having a calorie-free dessert." He looked over at Don who sat next to him, "wouldn't you say so, Donnie?"

Don was quiet for a moment as he sipped from his cup. He worked the tea around in his mouth reflectively, as if considering the flavors, before swallowing. He took a second tentative sip and, when he finished it, Donatello finally replied, nodding, "Somewhat. I find it interesting, though, that they would infuse tea leaves with such flavors as vanilla and caramel." He then addressed Beth, asking, "Mind if I take a couple of bags home with me so I can figure out the blend?"

Beth shrugged, "Sure," and stood up to go into the kitchen. After a moment, she returned with the two requested tea bags. Handing them over to Donnie, she asked, "Do you need more?"

"No, thank you," Don replied, "Two will do."

Beth then sat back down in her chair and picked up her cup to resume drinking her tea.

Where he sat at the opposite end of the couch from Don, Raph glanced over at him and smirked as he remarked, "Hey, Donnie, guess you like it, eh?"

"Huh? Oh, well, it's not that I like it so much," Donatello admitted, "I just want to see how they make it because I think Master Splinter might enjoy this." He looked over at Leonardo and asked, "You think Sensei would like this, Leo?"

Leo, who had just taken a mouthful of tea when Don asked his question, nodded a couple of times. After swallowing his drink, he finally concurred, "Yes, I think Father would like this occasionally."

Raph, however, was having a harder time downing his portion. In fact he had hardly any of it at all. He continued to hold his teacup, though, especially considering how he had teased Leonardo about it while they were still on the roof. After all, Raphael had something to prove. He liked Beth a lot and there wasn't any way in shell he would let his brother one-up him. Yet, from the first sip, the brew nearly made Raph gag. He stared into his cup once more and tried to bring it up to his mouth in an attempt to get passed its overwhelmingly sweet taste, but he just couldn't.

Nevertheless, when he noticed Leo's rather pleased expression and how it seemed to contradict his initial reaction when Beth first mentioned the tea, Raphael couldn't help himself.

With his usual sarcastic way, he asked, "Don't tell me that ya like it, Leo?"

Leo shrugged and replied, "Well, it's not as bad as I thought it would be," and then he smiled over at Beth, "It's rather good, actually."

The girl's face blushed a bit but she smiled back in return, "I'm glad you like it."

Raph rolled his eyes and chuckled, then looked over at Beth, "Well, no offense, Beth, but I'm not too crazy 'bout normal tea, so…"

"Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized as if suddenly realizing what he implied, "I forgot; you prefer beer, don't you?"

Raphael interrupted her, though, with a raised hand, "Don't worry 'bout it, like I said, even the reg'lar stuff doesn't suit me." He placed his now tepid cup of tea onto the coffee table in front of him and then leaned back into the couch a little. Folding his arms across his plastron, Raphael asked as he looked over at his brother, "So, Leo-san, what's our next assignment?"

"Next assignment?" Leo queried, "Oh, I see…well," he glanced over at Donnie, "I guess it's up to you, now, Don."

Don perked up a bit after he tucked the two tea bags into his left pouch on his belt. He turned and then addressed Beth, "I'll come by in a couple of days to check on your wound. It seems to be healing well enough, so I don't think you have any infection. Just be careful when you bathe. If the bandage gets wet, you'll have to re-wrap yourself with a dry one." From his right pouch, he procured a neatly rolled up wad of fresh bindings, the material wound tight to compress it. "Here's an extra roll, just in case you don't have any on hand." Donnie then offered the clean dressing to Beth.

"Thank you. I can always go to the store for more," she said, "but I think this will do for now."

Leo suddenly cleared his throat, sat more forward on his chair, and announced, "And once Don has declared you healed, we can start on your training."

Beth shied back just a little, though, "Um, I don't know much about what you do. I mean," she glanced over at Raphael, "I know from what Splinter said that you do martial arts, but all I've seen any of you do are back flips." She smiled a little, remembering the kind of punishment Splinter had implemented on Raphael's behalf.

Leo cocked his head and furrowed his brown. He then snapped his fingers, as if suddenly remembering something, "That's right, it was dark, there wasn't any way for you to see that fight." Yet, when he noticed Beth recoil a little in her chair, it was obvious the experience had troubled her. He remembered, then, how frightened she had been at the time, "Oh, I'm…sorry, Beth, I forgot that..."

The girl gave a small nervous smile, "That's okay, it all turned out well enough, but – you're right, it was too dark for me to see anything."

"Well, then…" Leo glanced away for a moment as if in thought and looked over at Beth again, "…maybe we can show you what we do." With that he stood and indicated with his hand for Raphael to stand with him, speaking to Beth again as he did, "Actually, besides ninjitsu, we are well versed in several forms of martial arts." He turned to Raphael, who now stood and faced him. "A little demo, bro?" Leo smiled invitingly.

"Here?" Raph asked, somewhat surprised as he considered the limited amount of room in the living area.

"Nothing extreme, just the practice stuff, you know, where we go through the motions a bit slower; the way we do when we want to fine-tune a kata."

Nodding, Raph concurred, "Yeah, okay," and then he pushed the coffee table over by the front door to give them a little more room to work with.

"Just be careful not to make any noise, okay?" Beth asked, "I'd hate for my neighbor downstairs to lob a complaint or for Mrs. Andrews to come knocking at my door just to find out what I'm doing in here."

Her four friends smiled and chuckled in amusement and then Mike stated causally to Beth, his smile wide and confident, "Stealth mode is what we do best, milady!"

Now, as Beth sat there, she watched as Leonardo and Raphael bowed to each other. Leo uttered a few words in Japanese to Raph, who answered him in the same language, and then they each took a step backwards.

Suddenly and without any further word or command, the two brothers came at each other. They began executing swift neat kicks and turns, leaping gracefully out of the way of the other, and hardly making any noise at all. Although it seemed well choreographed, where they mostly feigned hitting the other, the firm smacks of hand to plastron or upper arm, and foot to leg, resounded softly in the room. Beth's face grimaced in worry a couple of times, certain one of them had hurt the other, but the smiles playing along Leo and Raph's faces belied that assumption. Impressing Beth even more, throughout their five minute demonstration they remained vertical, as they blocked and parlayed each strike, with each movement crisp and sharp.

When they finally finished, Leonardo and Raphael bowed a second time to each other before returning to their chairs.

As he sat down, Leo looked over at Beth and smiled, waiting for her response.

Beth was mesmerized and even more so where neither of her two friends seemed the least bit winded. Finally, after a long pregnant moment, she asked, "Is…that what you're going to teach me?"

Leo laughed and shook his head, "No, not exactly. What we'll teach you are survivor skills, such as how to disarm someone who might hold a gun or a knife to you, or, if someone tries to grab you, we'll show you how to get away."

"Also," Raphael added, "I can show you where to apply pressure points, so it really hurts!" He grinned, cocking one eye ridge and smirking. It was as if just the thought seemed fun to him.

"Well," Beth sighed, "I don't know if I'll be able to learn all of it, but I'll try."

"Oh, don't worry about learning all of it," Don added, "Just learning some of it will empower you, believe me!" He turned to look at his brothers, as he remarked, "I remember after we taught April a few katas…" but then Don fell silent, as the memory of their friend and her death momentarily overwhelmed him. He took in a sharp deep breath and, after a short pause, concluded as he addressed Beth once more, "Well, simply said, you'll feel stronger just knowing how to defend yourself." Donatello then smiled, but it was forced and Beth could tell he still grieved for the woman.

It was obvious by his and his brother's somber expression that whoever this April was, she had been a good friend to them. "I know that this April meant a lot to all of you," she finally stated, "I'm sorry for your loss."

A moment of quiet fell over the room. In fact, it was almost deafening as the four brothers reflected on their friend's passing. They had lost so much and it was quite apparent the turtles still grieved in part. Consequently, Beth couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable, as if she had desecrated a sacred memory or offended the brothers with just commenting about their deceased friend.

Finally, it was Michelangelo who broke the silence, "April O'Neil was more than a friend, Beth, she was…like our sister. It's a long story how she came to know us," he glanced over at Raphael before returning his attention to Beth again, "but how she died is what's tragic."

Mike dropped his gaze and stared at his hand in his lap for a moment, as he, too, took in a deep breath. Once he collected himself again, he looked up at the girl, his voice resolute, "April died because she knew where to find us, but she kept that information from our enemies, even though…" he swallowed hard, now, as his reflection almost overwhelmed him. But, he swallowed his rising grief, "even though they tortured her by cutting off most of her fingers." He frowned suddenly as he recalled that event, "We found her like that, just tossed in a dumpster like trash, barely alive after they beat her and with her hands nothing but bloody stumps. They maimed her so horribly that…well…it gave us all nightmares for the longest time." Mike sighed, "I don't know if we've fully recovered," he turned towards Leo, "but, I think it had a lot to do with how you've been behaving lately, Leo."

"No, I – I don't believe so, Mike," Leo countered, "I mean, that was seven years ago, I think I would have reacted sooner than that, or at least recovered by now."

"Not necessarily," Don challenged lightly, "it's not unusual for someone to have a delayed reaction to a traumatic experience. Finding Ap like we did would warrant a type of trauma. I think Mike is probably right this time."

"This time?" Mike protested indignantly, "I've been right before." He now straightened up in his chair, mildly offended.

Raph snickered, "Name one time, bro!"

Beth had to laugh when she saw Mike's determined expression. It was easy to tell he was giving serious thought to Raphael's challenge, yet the longer he took in recalling the last time he was right, the more amused his brothers became, their smiles growing wider along their mouths.

"Thought so," Raph finally chuckled.

"Hey, give me a moment, okay?" Mike snapped, "Something will come to me, you can count on it!"

"Old age, probably," Raph teased.

"I resent that!" Mike protested again and seemed ready to get up off his chair to physically challenge his older brother, but Leo quickly interrupted.

"Hey, guys, I think it's best that we get going, okay? We have a lot to do yet, tonight."

Mike chortled, "Saved by the bell, eh Raph?"

Raphael shook his head and laughed, "As if."

His younger brother shrugged and nodded, "Okay, but – " he picked up his teacup and saucer, "let me do cleanup, 'kay?" Mike then took Beth's and proceeded to gather up the others, stacking them neatly on top.

"No, that's all right, I can get it…" Beth said as she tried to get up to help.

Mike shook his head and directed, "Nope, you just sit yourself down and relax. I can get this!"

Beth's eyes widened slightly as she watched Mike balance the now-towering pillar of stacked teacups and saucers through the living room and around the breakfast bar, soon disappearing into her kitchen. She held her breath, fearful he would drop one, cringing even as she anticipated the sound of breaking china. The teacups were part of her mother's collection and it would pain her terribly if even one broke, but then Don lightly laid a hand on her arm.

Bringing her attention around to him, he assured her, "Don't worry about Mikey, he's done this before. It's been a long while since he's dropped any…"

Suddenly, a clatter of porcelain rang out from the kitchen. Everyone in the other room gasped as Mike declared, "Whoops."

Beth's head jerked around and she began to stand up in concern. Where she sat she couldn't see what had happened, but then an orange-masked face peered into view over the breakfast bar and looked at her, "Just kidding!" Mikey lightly chuckled as he went back to his task of cleaning up the dishes.

"You know, Mikey," Raph remarked, "you need to stop giving people heart attacks!"

Mike only replied by giggling as his amusement filtered out from the kitchen.

Moments earlier, as Mike headed into the kitchen, he had remembered where the weakened floorboard was. In fact, he cheered a little to himself when he circumvented that particular area of the floor without making a sound. Now, as he stood over the kitchen sink, he glanced once at the blind-covered window, remembering how he and his brothers had first entered Beth's apartment. Then, his attention went back to washing the cups and saucers.

After plugging the drain, he carefully placed each piece of china into the sink. Turning on the hot water, his eyeridges furrowed a little in thought and he glanced again at the window. He studied it for a moment. After adding a few squirts of dish soap into the water, he let the sink fill with frothy bubbles, and decided to let the dishes soak for a moment. Mike then went over to inspect the window a little more.

As he fingered the torn window shade, studying the rips and tears, he recalled its condition when they left the apartment the first time. When Raphael had forced the window open a few days earlier, the shade had ripped in several spots. Mike had been responsible for locking things up before returning to the lair with a then-injured Leo and Beth, so he had memorized its condition. It was a habit of his and a byproduct of his training. "Know your environment" was one of Splinter's strict teachings.

In either event, by Mike's account and with what he remembered, he easily noticed that the rips were now longer and deeper than what had been there before

"Hmm…maybe when I closed the window…" he thought, working that idea around, wondering if maybe he had aggravated the tears.

"Hey, Mike, ya got those dishes done yet?" Raph's voice grounded out, interrupting his brother's thoughts, "Cuz we have to get going."

"Almost done." Mike replied quickly, giving the window one more curious glance before returning to the sink to wash up the cups and saucers.

A while later, with his task finished, Mike wiped his hands dry on a towel, looped it through the door handle of the refrigerator, and joined up with his brothers in the living room.

A short time later and as they were preparing to leave, Leo told Beth, "Well, we'll be back in a couple of days, okay? But if you need us, you know our phone number, now. It won't take us long to get here."

"I think I'll be all right," she smiled, "I appreciate all that you've done for me, though." Beth then went about hugging each of them in gratitude. She hugged Leo last and when she finished, she said, "I hope after I'm healed and – ah – trained, that you all will still come and visit me from time to time."

Leo swallowed and nodded, "You can count on it." Leo then looked deeply into Beth's eyes. He knew that he would most certainly pay her a visit from time to time, maybe even more frequently than that.

Feeling the heat of his gaze, however, Beth suddenly shied away, ducking her head just a little, as if sensing her friend's longings. She was determined not to be more than a friend to Leo. Therefore, it was imperative she remain strong with her decision. As her face reddened, however, she heard a low chuckle from one of the others. "Probably Raphael," she mused silently. Then, Beth looked back up at the quartet of mutant turtles, smiled, and said, "Well, best you four get going, before Mrs. Andrews wonders why I'm making so much noise!" She rolled her eyes a bit, "She's such a busybody, sometimes!"

One by one the four mutant turtles filed out of the front door – silent as vapor – and made their way up the stairs to the fifth floor and eventually to the rooftop. As Beth watched the last of them disappear along the staircase, she sighed and then prepared to close her door. Suddenly, she remembered that her mail had probably gathered dust in her mail box downstairs and it wouldn't be good for the mailman to get suspicious. She knew that after a few days of collecting, he would probably become concerned and alert the authorities.

That was just something she couldn't allow.

A while later and after returning to her apartment from getting her mail, Beth read the various return addresses to determined who they were from. As she walked over to her dining table, she tossed most of the mail into the trash can nearby. Junk mail was her usual fare and only if it proved interesting would she open them.

However, as she came to the last envelope, her heart nearly stopped.

Along the upper left hand corner where the return address was, the insignia of the New York City Courts almost screamed out at her. Beth felt her hands begin to shake, for she knew what it meant to get any mail from them. The only mail they had ever sent to her always concerned her assault case and the man who had beaten and raped her, and then left her for dead. After his sentencing, she had been assured by the judge that he would never get out, but Beth knew the capriciousness of the judicial system. It was far to easy for someone to get a reduced sentence for good behavior.

And usually 'good behavior' was good only until the criminal got out of jail.

More often than not, they returned to their life of crime, because of the stigma of being a con made it difficult for them to find legitimate work. It was sad, really. Despite their time 'rehabilitating' in prison, men, and even women, frequently found themselves lured back to the lifestyle that incarcerated them in the first place. It was hard to find a job where most honorable employers wouldn't hesitate to refuse them. It was a double edged sword at best to pay one's 'dues', yet Beth couldn't blame anyone for not hiring such a person. It was just human nature not to trust someone who had 'jail time' on their resume.

However, a sudden tingling strain in her arms alerted Beth that she was close to zoning out again, so she went over and sat down on the couch and closed her eyes. She looked up at the clock on her wall to note the time but then tried to remember what Splinter had taught her. She began to breath in and out, slow and even, tasting the air, and feeling each intake as she did. The tingling soon subsided, but she still kept to her rhythmic inhalation, expelling the air slowly through her pursed lips. When she was confident enough, Beth opened her eyes and then studied the envelope in her hands once again.

Finally, realizing she couldn't put it off any longer, Beth slowly peeled up the envelope's top flap. She worked her fingers underneath it and along the rest of the flap until she had the envelope opened. Now, she hesitated. She did another short breathing exercise and when she felt satisfied she would remain fully alert, she slipped one finger inside and extracted its contents, slowly unfolding the letter.

Gulping in trepidation, she now began to read, and as she read, her eyes widened with concern. Once more, she felt a tingling along her arms. She tried, she really did, to keep alert, but the enormity of what the letter said weighed heavier against her with each passing second. Beth knew that if she didn't do something quick, she would go catatonic again and there wasn't any way she would let that happen.

She was tired of becoming its victim.

Nearly jumping up from the couch, Beth went into the kitchen as quickly as she could. She went to her cupboard and procured a cup, next filling it with cold tap water. She drank hungrily and after she downed the contents of her glass, she did some more breathing exercises.

Finally, after a moment, she felt herself begin to relax again, but she still wondered if she had zoned out. She glanced once at the clock on her stove and sighed with relief when she saw only a few minutes had passed. She smiled, realizing she had succeeded in keeping her wits about her this time, even if it was only for a moment. However, her mind came back to the letter in her hand once more.

The letter was from her attorney, sent to her through the courts. He was informing Beth that the man who had raped her, assaulted her, stabbed her and left her to die had gained early release. According to the court appointed psychologist, the man had made a complete turn-around during his five years in jail. In fact, he had impressed everyone with his repentance for what he had done to her. He had even found God during his incarceration, conducting small services for those fellow inmates who had also found religion.

Still, Beth remembered well what her father had once told her about such people. "Born again until they're out again, Beth. You can't put faith in that, because a leopard can rarely, if ever, change his spots!"

With her heart beating furiously, she went to her phone to call her friends, but as she picked up the receiver, Beth suddenly realized that they probably weren't back to the lair yet. Maybe they decided to do some patroling? It was what Splinter told her they did, that they tried to keep the city safe from criminals - such as the one that had assaulted her in the first place.

Now, she didn't know what to do and Beth was afraid, more so than she had been in a long time, and – once again – the all too familiar feelings of catatonia began to overwhelm her.

"NO!" she declared suddenly and defiantly; her voice ringing out as it echoed against her austere walls. Fisting her hands, she stood there in her kitchen and fought her rising sense of detachment. "I will not give in!" she declared angrily, as if addressing her disorder, feeling its temptation to bend to its will.

And it scared her because she wanted to.

Yet, in that moment, Beth realized a very interesting truth.

In the past five years she had suffered, she suddenly realized, as she reflected, that she wanted to suffer! Like an epiphany, she now understood that her malady had become her friend. To Beth, it had become a comfort, some place she could go to in order to escape her fears, and– even though it often reminded her what 'he' did to her – she could still forget what happened.

However, now that she wanted to change and to stop reacting to it, to face her fears and defeat them, in that moment she found her malady less attractive.

"Whatever happens," she growled resolutely, "I will not let it ever control me again!"

And she would have continued standing there, too, focused and determined, if not for the sudden knock upon her front door.