*Okay. If you're one of those people who loves a happy ending, and ONLY a happy ending, then for all intents and purposes, Chapter 98 was it. I hope you enjoyed it. If you don't want to get caught up in the drama and violence of the fic that will follow Refuge, do not proceed, do not pass "Go", turn back now while you still have a chance. You think I'm kidding, don't you? ::Sigh:: You'll learn.
Donatello was enjoying a semi-normal evening around the Den, which felt quieter now that Olivia and Nate had gone to bed. There had been plenty of discussion over the possibility of a movie, but a group consensus hadn't been reached. For once, the purple-masked turtle didn't care what they watched; he was simply enjoying the calm of the last night they would have with Brandon for a few weeks.
Greg was already on assignment in the field, and Director Kelley had approved the request to send Brandon to join him. The man was supposed to be on a red-eye flight that evening, but the plane had been delayed, and was in danger of being canceled altogether.
Brandon was resting in what was widely known as Raphael's favorite chair with his hands behind his head, looking like he was about to fall asleep.
"Uh, dude?" Mike called. "How are you gonna know if your plane shows up or not?"
"I'm supposed to get a text alert and an arrival time," he replied without opening his eyes. "I'm almost completely packed, and it won't take me long to get to the airport. I just don't want to sit in a terminal all night for nothing."
"Why can't they cancel the flight and be done with it?" Raphael wondered, as he walked into the room from the hallway. "If you think you're gonna spend the night in my chair, you're dead wrong, Bran."
"They think the weather is going to blow over in Texas, which is where my plane is coming from." Brandon shrugged. "I just want to make sure I get to Port Royal in time, so I'm not in danger of missing the boat entirely. If a plane arrives at any point tonight, I'm going to be on it."
Raphael smirked as he rested his arms on the back of the chair. "This is a nice step for you, huh, man? Out of the little leagues, and into the big time. Are you ready for this?"
Brandon snorted. "After the things I've already done with all of you, the reconnaissance will probably be a cake walk. I know Greg was excited about getting back out there. I think he missed the field more than he was letting on."
"Make sure you watch his back." Mike snickered. "Kat was always the karate kid of that pairing."
Brandon gave the orange-masked turtle a pained look. "It's called Taekwondo, Mikey. Respect the skills."
"I do, Bran, I do." Michelangelo grinned. "You're getting closer to taking Raphy down."
Raphael laughed out loud. "That day has yet to come."
"I keep warning you not to gloat about that," Brandon said. "Because it will come, and you're never going to hear the end of it."
"Yeah, okay, Bran." Raphael slammed the back of the chair hard enough that the man jerked and nearly fell.
"Take it easy, turtle," Brandon said warningly. "You're gonna push me too far one of these days."
"Neither of us is made of glass, so I'm not too worried." Raphael circled around the chair and slumped down on the couch beside Donatello. "Have we picked a movie or what?"
"No, because no one wants to agree on anything," Bran complained.
"That's not true," Don countered. "I said I didn't care what we watched. When the girls arrive, maybe we'll get somewhere."
The man grinned. "You'd think you guys never made a decision for yourselves."
Leonardo walked into the room, acknowledging everyone with a nod. "Hey, guys. Calley said they won't be long now. They need us to preheat the oven—"
Mike jumped up before Leo could finish. "I got it, Bro. What temperature did she ask for?"
"You're not seriously afraid to let me turn on the oven, are you?"
Mike laughed under his breath, though it appeared he was trying to control it. "You've got the magic touch, Leo."
"I'm getting a little sick of these jokes…" The blue-masked turtle's complaint dropped off as he and Michelangelo went into the kitchen.
Raphael rested both feet on the coffee table, grinning when Donatello gave him a questioning glance. "What? I can't relax my way?"
"Just don't let Karina catch you with your feet up there," Don reminded him.
Brandon laughed. "My sister has got some kind of power over you, huh, Raph?"
"Yeah, maybe she could give you some pointers in actually beating me in a spar," he shot back.
"That's starting to feel like a challenge, Raph." Brandon sat up further. "You wanna go again right now?"
"Only 'cause it would get you outta my chair."
Donny shook his head with a smile. "It's going to be quieter around here without you and Greg, Bran."
"With the new baby, Olivia, and the border collies? You won't even notice we're gone," Brandon scoffed.
"That isn't true," Don insisted. "We always notice when someone's missing."
"That's right," Raphael affirmed. "Especially if it happens to be my favorite punching bag."
"Aw, really, Raph? I would have thought that Mike held that title."
"Okay. You're my favorite human punching bag."
"Thanks for clarifying."
Donatello jolted as a commotion erupted behind the couch, and Tiger suddenly leaped onto the back of the furniture. The orange and white cat sprinted over the coffee table, and bolted inside the partially open door to Donatello's lab, fleeing from the pursing border collies.
Raphael caught Noah by the collar and dragged him backwards. "I wonder if they'll ever figure out that Tiger doesn't like this game as much as they do."
Molly slipped past Donatello before he could capture her, racing after Tiger into the lab. At the report of a minor crash, the purple-masked turtle winced.
"Why was that door open?" Don asked.
Brandon averted his eyes guiltily. "Mike and I may have been searching for batteries."
Donatello started into the room, hitting the light switch as Brandon followed closely behind. Don found a desk chair knocked over, and a couple of file folders that had been on his desk were now strewn across the floor. "Well…it could have been worse."
"Geesh, I'm sorry, Donny. Let me get them out of here, and I'll help you pick up this stuff."
Brandon shooed the cat and dog out of the room as Donatello picked up his desk chair. He was on his knees sorting through various papers when the man returned to help. His friend got down on the floor beside him, and began straightening debris.
"I've got this under control, Bran. You really don't need to worry about it."
"Nah, they wouldn't have gotten in here if some blockhead hadn't left the door open."
"No harm done," Donny assured him.
They made quick work of picking up the papers, with Brandon handing files to Donatello to put back in their proper folders. As the man reached for another stack, he strangely froze. Brandon had been staring down at a piece of paper in his hands for a few seconds when Donatello cleared his throat.
"Uh, Bran? Is something wrong?"
The man looked up at him with a mixture of confusion and anger warring for supremacy in his golden-brown eyes. "Donatello, what is this?"
"What's what? You have to let me see it."
Brandon snapped the paper toward him, and it turned out to be a copy of the driver's license that was connected to the social security number Katherine had asked Donny to research. Don swallowed as the face of Carl James stared back at him mockingly.
"It's your dad, Brandon."
"I can see that," he said sharply. "Why do you have this?" The man sorted through the rest of the pile in front of him, his breath quickening as he discovered more of Donatello's research.
"Brandon, I was…I was just trying to find him for you."
"You had no right," he said in a low voice.
As the man stalked out of the room, Donatello rapidly pursued him. "Bran, wait! Let me explain, okay?"
Brandon spun around to face him, and Donny saw a very confused Raphael in the man's wake. "Explain, Donatello. I'd love to hear your reasoning behind this."
The red-masked turtle leaped to his feet. "What the shell is up, you two?"
"Ask your brother," Brandon said tersely.
"I'm trying to tell you." Don struggled to keep his voice even.
"How long has this been going on?" Brandon's gaze could have burned right through him.
"Not that long. It's only been about three months since I started—"
"Only three months? Why, Donatello? Why are you going looking for trouble?"
"I wasn't trying to hurt anyone," he said carefully. "I wanted to help, Bran. It isn't as if I turned your father in or tried to contact him. I've just been researching some leads and following a few rabbit trails across the states of Florida and Louisiana."
"I don't want your help with this!" Brandon still sounded like he was at his boiling point. "You can't fix everything, Donny! Some things are better off left alone, but no…You had to go and stir it up again."
Brandon's volume had succeeded in drawing Leonardo and Michelangelo out of the kitchen, and they became confused spectators of the conversation too.
"Brandon, I'm sorry," Don said with genuine remorse, hoping to defuse the man. "I didn't mean to make trouble or upset anyone."
"Why couldn't you come to me? Why did you have to do it behind my back?"
"I was going to come to you, when I had something definitive to offer on his current location. I've been chasing the shadow of two different identities, and it's been complicated. I wanted to nail him for certain before I brought this to you," Don replied. I should be bringing Kat into this, but I can't yet. Not with him in this frame of mind. Besides, she didn't twist my arm to make me do anything.
"Why would you think I'd want anything to do with him?" Brandon demanded furiously, with a tone that had Donatello glancing nervously toward the stairs that led to the sleeping baby turtles.
"Bran, take it easy, huh?" Mike said calmly. "We're all buds here, no reason we can't work out whatever this is."
Brandon shook his head. "You didn't tell anyone, did you?"
"He didn't tell—"Leonardo didn't get to finish before he was interrupted.
"He went searching for my dad!" Brandon fixed Donatello with another cold look. "He's never done any good for my family, and you have the audacity to go looking for him without saying a word to us?"
Brandon was mid-sentence when the door to the Den opened, and the four young women joined the tense stand-off in the living area, loaded down with shopping bags. Karina was the only one who dared to advance.
"Brandon, what's going on? Why are you so upset?" she asked.
The man heatedly rattled off a couple of sentences in Spanish. Don had picked up a little of the language over the years of knowing Karina, but Bran's rate of speed was too fast for him to decipher his speech.
Karina looked taken aback at first, then shook her head and responded in Spanish to him. The young woman looked questioningly at Donatello, but he saw no anger in her eyes, only bewilderment.
"Bran, Karina didn't have anything to do with this!" Don blurted out, though he had no idea what either of them were saying. "She didn't know about it either."
"Why am I even surprised?" The man barely looked at him when he spoke this time. "I don't know what was going through your head, Donatello, but I have two words for you: butt out. If you want to make me happy, then stay the hell out of it!"
The women parted for Brandon to get through as he stormed out the door. Donny's first inclination was to go after him, but Karina stepped in front of the turtle.
"No, Donny, don't. You can't reason with him in this frame of mind – take it from someone who knows."
"Am I the only one in the dark right now?" Jenna raised her hand. "What on God's green earth just happened?"
Karina looked at Donatello steadily. "You were looking for our father? What brought this on, Donny?"
The purple-masked turtle shifted awkwardly under the scrutiny of everyone in the room. "Kat…came to me a few months ago, right around Christmas. She asked me for help in locating him. That's it. When I had him targeted, she was going to present options to you and Bran."
Karina looked even more confused. "You didn't even bring Kat up, did you?"
"No. He was so angry…I didn't want to make it worse. I'm sorry, Karina, guys. I made the wrong decision, and now I've got to fix it somehow."