Author's comments: I think I owe my readers a pretty good explanation for the gross lapse between chapters here. I am not even going to try and put an estimation on when Chapter 11 was done, but I imagine it is bordering on the measuring stick of three or four years. My life went downhill fast shortly after my last update and I chose to simply ignore the urgent and sometimes cranky reviews I was getting demanding I post the next chapter up soon. And yes, I did leave it at a cliff-hanger of sorts, but not intentionally. I don't wish to divulge a massive sob story, but I got very sick and am likely to stay very sick for the rest of my life and that is all I care to divulge. But now, after reading back over the old chapters, I feel a sense of motivation again which was robbed from me and I want to complete this….
-- CHAPTER 12 --
"Madeline? Where have you been, sweetheart, we've all been so worried about you!"
The moment the blind girl opened the door wide enough she felt a pair of thin, soft, warm hands press against her cheeks, pulling her forward in an awkward half-step before wiry arms locked around her body under her arms and her chin rested on a crown of curls which smelt like lemon cough syrup and camphor. By the thick knitted texture she could feel under her fingertips as she reached around the small, thin frame to rub her hands up and down the hunched back, Madeline knew without question it was Irene.
And she was beyond distraught.
After crushing the breath from her in a hug tighter then she thought the old woman possessed the strength to perform, Mrs Tomkins stepped back, but she kept her gnarled hands locked tightly around her shoulders with a grip so fierce the girl didn't expect to be released any time soon.
"Goodness gracious, Madeline, I have been worried sick ever since you didn't come up on Tuesday! I was frantic!" Irene fussed as she switched from crushing Madeline's arms to seizing her hands and the girl fought to keep the painful wince off her features when her knuckles seemed to grate together, compressed too tightly.
Tuesday. Of course. It had been Monday night when she had gone for her walk and every Tuesday night, once a week, she was expected upstairs at No. 4 at no later then 5pm for their dinners together. So very seldom was she ever absent without calling that the only time it had occurred in the three years since she had moved into the building Irene had the super, Mark, driving around to the hospitals looking for her. There had been a train strike that day and Madeline had been stranded at the Central station until eight o'clock that night, arriving back to find her aged friend had pestered the local precinct into putting a radio description of her out to all its cars!
She could only imagine the flurry of worry and activity the woman in front of her had then flown into when she had failed to arrive this week…
Which caused another thought to raise in her mind and tumble from her lips. Her voice still sounded breathless to her own ears, reminding her even as she spoke, of the mutant turtle huddled behind her door at that moment. "Tuesday…. What day is it?"
This produced an eruption of spluttering sounds from Irene who gasped and replied incredulously. "What d--… Why I!… It's Wednesday evening, Madeline! You've been missing for three, whole days!"
The dark-haired young woman could do nothing but blink her sightless eyes as that fact registered in her comprehension, so many adjoining things clamoring around it, attached to it, that she literally was overwhelmed for one, long moment of silence.
"Three days…? Oh, no, Irene, please tell me you didn't place a missing persons report!" she gasped, the consequence finally bursting through all those others to the forefront of her brain. Three days. That was seventy-two hours and more then enough for her to officially be declared missing by legal standards. If Irene had done it again and the authorities were still out there looking for her then the brothers could be in more danger then any of them thought. All it would take was one witness who 'thought' they saw her in a certain area and then manhunts would be dredging through the sewer system in no time searching for her body…
"No, no, no, not yet, but if you weren't back by tonight I would have called them! I did make flyers, though! That nice doctor upstairs, Mr Gregory, went out and put them up for me…"
Faintly, the girl thought she heard a sound like someone was choking on a breath and knew that Leonardo was thinking the exact same thing as she: here was the source of those devastating, obnoxious posters…
"Well at least you're alright!" the old woman sighed in relief, apparently oblivious to the secondary presence inside the apartment. "Come on, let me make you a nice cup of cocoa and you can tell me what happened…" Irene moved to slip past the young woman on the threshold with as much familiarity as was normal for their relationship: any other time it was nothing for the elderly neighbor to come in for visits and chocolately drink.
Madeline startled out of her thoughts which had momentarily sucked her inward, recalling the sound of the old rat's dry voice reading her description aloud off the paper, only just remembering the mutant less then three feet behind her, hidden by the door. "Oh! Irene, wait a moment, please!…" she interrupted a little too shrilly as the small, but determined frame got past her and began shuffling into the room behind. She heard the frail hands swiping over the wallpaper looking for the light switch and panicked.
"Why is it so dark in here, dear?" Mrs Tomkins grumbled, murmuring her fond complaint about the odd habits of today's youth, just as the young woman turned and grasped out into air desperately hoping to catch a thin shoulder and hold the other up.
For that second time screeched to a halt: she heard the sound of sneakers softly padding across her carpet, barely discernable beneath the continued breathy mumbles and the soft clack of a door further into her flat closing shut, the latch slipping into place. It was almost negated by the seemingly deafening -CLICK!- as Irene found the little panel and flicked the switch. Madeline heard her heart bang in her ears, just once, silence yawning all around her and then, with a jolt, reality seemed to fall back into pace.
Irene Tomkins had not shrieked, she was not screaming about a green, mutant, upright turtle dressed in a parka standing in the middle of her living room and by some small miracle the girl knew Leonardo had retreated to one of the other areas in time…
Her relief was so profound she felt momentarily like a puppet with her strings cut, grasping a nearby doorframe to keep on her weak legs. The sound of the metal canister she kept her sugar in being set down on the bench told her Irene was now in the kitchen, the hiss of the electric kettle growing loud enough to fill the apartment. Trying to formulate a plan to uproot the old woman quickly and send her back upstairs, Madeline turned and groped until she found the door handle, pushing it shut but not locking it behind her.
The thought to go left and try to find Leonardo in the direction of her bedroom, where she was sure he had gone, crossed her mind. It was stowed though when the thin voice of Mrs Tomkins called her to the right-- "One or two sugars, dear?" came the question. Every time they had hot chocolate, Irene asked and every time they had hot chocolate, Madeline replied that she had two. She had always had a sweet tooth, after all.
Deciding if she did not come that Irene may very well start looking for her, Madeline sighed, abandoning the ninja to his hiding place and began tracing her path down the short hallway to her kitchenette. She did not need a cane in this space, for years of familiarity told her just how many steps she needed to take, where every turn was and where to reach to pick up certain items. Everything was where and how it had always been.
As she passed through the narrow door and onto the linoleum floor, the sound of the kettle reaching its boiling point and clicking off announced her arrival. Madeline came to bench on the other side of the U-shaped cabinet set up, away from the stove and the jug, letting the old woman make their cups.
"Gracious, Madeline, you look awful!" Irene said as the sound of water being poured filled the quiet. "What on earth happened to you, sweetheart?"
The girl listened to the musical –tink…tink- of the spoon hitting the rim of the mug as the sugar was dropped in, followed by the lilting rattle of its stirring through, contemplating just what answer to give.
She certainly couldn't tell the truth and mentioning the attack in the park which had started all of it would only send Mrs Tomkins into such a panic that it was liable to make matters worse. An awkward silence stretched out and Madeline heard the other stop her ministrations, knowing even without seeing that she was being watched expectantly. Schooling her features into a less distressed mien, she said:
"I… got mugged. But I am alright now, really…"
It sounded canned, but had an immediate effect on Irene. The spoon went clattering to the floor, making Madeline jump visibly and the flood of questions began. "Oh my goodness! Where? Did they hurt you? Why didn't you come home, dear?! You could have called!"
By that reaction alone, Madeline knew then that Irene Tomkins would definately never know the truth. She wrestled with that plethora alone, trying to conjure answers and succeeding only with the last of them.
"I hit my head." she told the elder, who had come over to pat her hand on the bench top gently. That part at least was not an outright lie. "I woke up in a hospital somewhere and they refused to let me out of bed. I couldn't get to a phone, I'm sorry…"
"Which hospital, dear? I checked the Mercy General and Country State."
It was Irene, sweet but panicky Irene. Of course she had checked the hospitals…
"Erm, maybe it was a neighborhood clinic…" the young woman corrected herself. "I never thought to ask what it was called…"
It seemed to work for the woman, who gave her hand a final squeeze and withdrew, shuffling back over to finish the cocoa. "Of course, you must have had quite a shock, dear." she said, "I'm just glad you're home now and safe."
Madeline analyzed her own feelings and wondered if she could say the same thing: a part of her still wanted to be sitting at that little table on the station platform, talking about Scooby Doo with Mikey…
Something was put down on the bench next to her and Irene guided her fingertips a few inches until they bumped the handle of the cup. Once satisfied she had it firmly in her grasp, the old woman began tsking with fervor.
"I don't know what is wrong with people these days," Irene went on. "So much violence! Why, just yesterday I saw that nice shy Warren from downstairs. He had terrible bruises all over his face! And a big lump on his head too! He said someone beat him on the subway coming home. Can you imagine?!"
It took Madeline a moment to call the person in question to mind: Warren was the quiet-voiced young man who lived with his father Mark, their building super. She had spoken to him in passing, strange and halting conversations about the weather when they put their garbage out and happened to be in the alley at the same time. She knew very little about him except that he was slightly older then herself. Still, she felt sorry for him…
He probably had not had the luxury of four mutant turtle ninjas coming to chase off his attacker…
