Chapter 2: Awake
It was a pretty normal school night at the Hamilton house: Leo & Donnie working on their homework, Mikey working on distracting them from their homework & Raph off who-knew-where not doing his homework. But tonight, Raph brings home more than a few new bruises & a dark look.
"Leo, I'm starving!"
Leonardo Hamilton sighed, looking up from his chemistry homework into a pair of wide, blue eyes.
"Mikey," said Leo, a little less patiently than he had when his little brother had made the same complaint five minutes earlier, "Dad's running late and said he'd grab something on the way home."
Kneeling on a chair at the other end of the dining table, Mikey groaned, dramatically collapsing onto the cluttered tabletop, arms spread-eagle and tongue protruding from a corner of his mouth.
Leo chuckled, returning to his homework.
"Watch where you flail your appendages, Mikey," Donnie called from the living room where he was helping April with her English homework. "That robotics model took me all afternoon to assemble."
Mikey opened the eye not currently pressed against the tabletop, scanning over what was left of the new toaster scattered across the dining table. At the center was Donnie's latest science project: a small, metallic robot that did who-knew-what.
Smirking, Leo watched Mikey consider the risks, apparently eager to alleviate his impending starvation with a bit of mischief.
More often than not, it was Mikey's inquisitive nature that resulted in the premature demolition of Donnie's latest inventions. That is, until last summer when Donnie equipped his most recent creation with an "anti-Mikey" security measure.
"Once activated," Donnie had explained, "it will emit a minor electrical discharge intended to discourage unauthorized manhandling."
Leo grinned to himself as Mikey sat up, thoughtfully propping his head in his hands.
The "minor electrical discharge" had knocked their overly-curious little brother across the room.
"Leo—"
"When dad gets home, Mikey," Leo responded automatically.
Huffing, Mikey slumped forward and his head hit the table with a solid thunk.
"I might have a granola bar in my bag," said April, reaching for her backpack.
Mikey rolled his head to the side, unimpressed… until April held up a chocolate-covered granola bar.
In a flash of orange and denim, Mikey was out of his seat and over the back of the couch.
"Mikey!" Donnie growled when his little brother's leg collided with the side of his head.
April giggled as Mikey made quick work of the wrapper and attempted to eat the entire bar upside down.
"If you choke," snapped Donnie irritably, pushing Mikey's legs onto the floor, "I am not resuscitating you."
Chuckling, Leo started to tell Mikey not to choke when the front door swung open, banging into the wall.
Startled, Mikey fell off the couch with a gasp and choked.
"You hurry up!" Casey barked over his shoulder as he stomped into the living room. "Clear out, Donnie-boy!"
Scowling, Donnie pulled April out of the way and grabbed at the English text Casey hastily swept off the couch.
Coughing, Mikey rolled under the relative-safety of the coffee table and Leo got to his feet.
Casey Jones had the manners of an ill-tempered baboon at the best of times, but tonight his brother's best friend looked unusually anxious.
"Casey, what—"
Then Raph marched through the door carrying the beaten body of a little girl.
Raph made a beeline for the couch; he'd swear the girl had gained fifty pounds since he'd pulled her off that ledge and she sure wasn't getting any lighter!
"Geez, Raphie!" wheezed Mikey, eyes watering as he peeked over the side of the coffee table. "I knew you were havin' a hard time getting a date, but—"
"Shut up, Mikey," Raph grumbled impatiently, trying not to dump the girl on the couch. "Donnie…"
Donnie was already kneeling beside the girl's head, a concerned frown wrinkling his brow. "Mikey, first-aid kit, please. April, would you grab an icepack from the freezer?"
Raph rolled his shoulders as Mikey and April scurried away.
The girl's face looked worse in the light; her left eye was a swollen, angry purple, there was an ugly red welt along her jawline, and the cut above her eyebrow was still bleeding.
Leo stood behind the couch, staring down at the girl for a moment before looking up, hazel eyes sharp and serious. "What happened?"
Casey snorted from a nearby armchair. "Before or after he scared her right off the side of a building?"
"I'd jump, too, if Raphie asked me out," Mikey snickered, handing Donnie the first-aid kit.
Raph growled, making a grab for his little brother.
Mikey squealed, scrambling away.
"Raph!" Leo shouted after him.
Emma regained consciousness slowly; feeling the comfortable warmth of a well-heated room and the supple texture of leather beneath her cheek. She could smell cologne and the leather and… chocolate? The sounds of shuffling feet and low conversation exploded suddenly with an unholy squeal and chaos erupted all around her.
"I'm gonna slap you!"
"Raph, knock it—"
Someone screamed.
"Watch out for—" a girl shouted just before there was a startled yelp and a loud crash. "—Donnie's project."
Another person, close enough to smell the peppermint on his breath, groaned.
"Get 'im in a headlock, Raphie!"
"Casey, you are not help—Raph!"
"Uncle! Uncle!"
The unsettling cacophony of noise continued; there were scuffling sounds and laughter, shouting and swearing. And the smells of peppermint and leather were replaced by the sharp scent of antiseptic just before something cool pressed painfully against her forehead.
The sharp sting made Emma hiss and she slapped it away.
"Sorry."
Emma froze.
Her paramedic sounded… young. Too young.
Scowling, Emma pushed against the plush leather cushion to sit upright and the room stuttered into silence. It was an effort to open her eyes, so she kept them closed. Her head felt ready to explode and her right arm ached horribly.
What happened? she thought miserably, trying to focus.
London. The ship. The docks. Meat Hands and the man with the questions. The window…
The ledge!
Reaching up, Emma gingerly ran tender fingertips along her swollen left eye to the narrow gash above her eyebrow.
"Can you open your eyes?"
Definitely too young to be in the medical field, Emma decided, opening her right eye with a frown; her left had swollen shut.
The boy hummed thoughtfully. "Well, you don't appear to have a concussion," he said matter-of-factly. "How do you feel?"
Someone snorted. "Dude, look at 'er! How d'you think she feels?"
Someone else chuckled quietly.
None of them sounded much older than she was.
Where am I?
"Yeah well, she's awake, ain't she?" barked another voice, a familiar voice. "So why don't you start with why you were out on that damn ledge to begin with?"
"You!" Emma growled furiously, eyes narrowed and fists clenched. "This is all your fault!"
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