Michelangelo shifted in his chair a couple of times before he could bring himself to sit still. He hated feeling so flummoxed in the presence of his injured brother, who was silently watching his every move. Shell, what's my problem? Donny's awake. I shouldn't have any issues talking to him. All I wanted was for him to snap out of that coma, and now I don't know what to do with myself around him?
Donatello's brown eyes peered at him uncertainly, as though he was trying to figure out what Mike was thinking. The orange-masked turtle forced a chuckle.
"Sorry for clamming up on you, Bro. Totally not like me, right? I'm just all nervous for some reason that I can't figure out." As all of Mike's words ran together in a single breath, he saw his brother's eye ridges raise slightly. "I should slow down, huh? That's what you've always told me. 'You could do anything, Mikey, if you'd just take your time a little.'
"Me, I never saw things that way. I didn't even think I'd finish writing that first book, but you said I could, you and Bran. One chapter at a time, focusing on one scene at a time. Now I'm well into my third."
The lines in Donatello's face relaxed contentedly, and Mike folded his arms across his chest.
"Do you wanna hear more about Aidan and the chemistry dude?"
His brother nodded eagerly, and Mike couldn't help beaming. He'd intentionally left Donny in suspense for months concerning the identity of the character with whom his female lead was going to end up. Mike had possessed a plan from the beginning of the second story that included Aidan finally getting together with her partner, Grant, who worked through the same Spy Agency.
Somewhere along the line the "plan" had been completely derailed by the chemist, Andrew, whom Aidan and Grant had spent much of the book protecting. Mike knew that his brother favored Andrew over Grant, though Donatello had made no attempt to tell him how to write the story. The second book had ended without Aidan making a decision either way, much to Donny's chagrin.
The third had picked up right where the second left off. Mike was about a quarter of the way into the story, and had finished setting things up for the main crisis point.
"Okay, so they're on the plane, right?" Mike leaned closer to his brother's mattress, slipping into story-teller mode. "And it's going down into the ocean, if you remember."
A mild look of irritation crossed Don's eyes, and Mike almost laughed. He'd left Donatello at this point over two weeks ago, without ever finishing the chapter. "I still don't have the rest of it written down, Donny. It's all kind of jumbled in my head, but I'll try to explain where I'm going. I really do have a purpose."
Donny nodded at him to continue.
"Even though they're crashing in the water, they're all gonna make it off the plane. There's an island not real far from where they ended up, and they're going to make for land. It's already dark, and everything is kind of in upheaval. I mean, the pilot is unconscious; Grant is hurt pretty bad…they're all hurt in some fashion. I mean, they fell out of the sky. The only thing that Aidan and Andrew are thinking about is getting off the plane and making it to safety.
"I don't know what kind of an island it is yet. I want to find something real, so it can read more authentic, y'know? I bet you'd have some good ideas. It needs to be someplace where they could actually find things they need to survive, because they're gonna be stuck there for a while."
At Don's knowing smile, Mike shook his head. "I know, I know. I gotta do my own research, because it's half the fun. I've got news for you, Donny. It's only fun if you're looking over my shoulder, trying to figure out where I'm going next."
Donatello gave him an exasperated look, as if urging him to finish what he'd started.
"So anyway. The four of them that were on the plane all make it to the island, but Aidan and Andrew are the only ones who are fit to do anything. That whole first day is just gonna be spent with them figuring out how they're going to survive by living off the island, and what few things they possess. It's not until the second day that Aidan's gonna remember the little black box from the airplane."
Don nodded once more.
"You know where I'm going with this, don't you? The box has a homing beacon inside of it, and it could help draw rescuers to them. The only problem is, they didn't bring it with them when they abandoned the plane. It's somewhere underwater with the wreckage now."
His brother rolled his eyes.
"You knew it wasn't going to be easy, didn't you?" Mike smirked. "They didn't even think of it when they were jumping out of the plane the other night, trying to survive. Now they're going to have to go underwater to find it, and you might recall that Andrew doesn't like water of any kind. But he doesn't have a choice in this case, 'cause he's not sending Aidan alone either."
Mike hesitated for a beat. "This island is gonna be the kicker for the two of them, Donny. It's just the push they need for something to finally happen between them. I'm not sure how long they're going to be stuck there, so I'm kind of playing that part by ear. If it ends up being longer than I thought it would, well, you're just going to have to deal with that," he finished teasingly.
Donny gave him a genuine smile, and Mike grasped his shoulder.
"I'm really glad you've fought through this, Don. I know this part can't be too much fun, but you're gonna get better."
His brother nodded.
"And then you'll really be putting a fire under my shell to force me to finish this book, before I start developing anything for the next one."
Donatello's eyes widened at that, and Mike laughed.
"Did I fail to mention my latest inspiration? I've got plans, Donny, big plans for Aidan. You're gonna have to focus really hard on getting better, so that I'll be forced to get my act together," he said impishly.
Calley braced against the wall of the dojo as she continued stretching her muscles, in preparation for a more serious workout. It had been days since she'd had the heart to do any dancing. The only time she'd spent in the room had been when she was accompanying Leonardo while the turtle ran through his own katas.
It was Karina who'd gotten on her case that morning. She'd reminded Calley of the risk of losing flexibility if she put off the workouts for too long. She could feel the built-up tension in her muscles and knew that Karina wasn't wrong. Calley had separated herself early that afternoon to get in some exercise on her own, but she was struggling. Regardless of how long she'd dedicated to stretching, she still didn't feel loose.
The young woman dropped onto the mat and tried extending one of her legs out in front of her again. As she leaned over her outstretched limb, she felt muscles giving a little, like they only needed a bit more coaxing.
That state of her body seemed to match that of her spirit, ironically. Calley never relished in speaking about nor chose to dwell on the topic of the Akiudo, but that didn't stop the gang from coming to mind.
It's impossible to erase memories. No matter how much time passes, I'm not going to forget what it was like living under Shirou. He has no more power over me, but the gang is once again asserting their influence over a world that should have been rid of them.
Calley wasn't given to fits of anger, but the thought of the Akiudo rising from the ashes was enough to make her want to scream. How can they possibly still be planning anything when they don't have a head? I want to believe that any who are left will fade back into darkness and obscurity. Maybe they'll fall back into crime in some small-time aspect, but the Akiudo itself shouldn't be capable of hurting anyone again. But then, if Yukiko is alive…
Calley's experience with the Asian woman was limited, though she'd lived under the same roof as the Akiudo for months. Shirou was a jealous master, and usually kept her locked up for his sole use. But on the rare occasion that the man had been in the mood to show her off, Calley had glimpsed Yukiko. Of all the frightening individuals under the headship of Takashi, no one gave her a colder feeling than the Asian woman, not even Shirou, her tormentor and abuser.
Shirou was little more than a child himself, experimenting with me and fulfilling whatever desire came to his mind. Yukiko was something else altogether that I never truly wanted to decipher.
From Takashi at least, she'd sensed some kind of "love" for his son, Shirou, though he wouldn't have spoken the words out loud. Calley knew that Takashi was capable of showing a type of mercy because of the very patience he'd allowed for her master in several cases.
But Yukiko, she holds love for nothing and no one. There is only room for manipulation, violence, or respect inside her. She is loyal to Takashi, perhaps more loyal than any of his other men. Yukiko would certainly obey him, no matter what he asked of her. Yet I don't think she loves him, or any of those men that she helps lead. I pray to God that the informant was wrong. I don't want to think about what Yukiko might be doing in Takashi's absence.
Calley heard the door opening while she still had her head down, and called out a greeting before she saw her visitor. "Hey, Leo. I'm not late, am I? This is taking longer than I thought it would."
"Calley, no one said you had to watch this show with us," he returned. "In fact, I'm not all that interested in TV right now either."
She tossed blond bangs out of her eyes as she gave him a wry smile. "Were you considering just keeping me to yourself?"
Leo grinned back at her as he drew his legs underneath him on the mat. "The thought had crossed my mind, Calley." The spark of playfulness in his eyes faltered as he gave her a serious look. "Is everything okay?"
"It's just harder to loosen up than I expected it to be, and my mind isn't helping matters."
Leo's gaze became more thoughtful. "Do you want some help?"
Calley nodded. "Sure. Two is better than one," she replied, automatically relaxing onto her back on the mat. She'd worked with several partners throughout her dancing career, and even other dancers were often unnecessarily rough with stretching her hamstrings.
The blue-masked turtle had won her over the very first time they'd engaged in partner stretching. She smiled faintly to herself as she remembered how abashed he'd been that day, but they worked together seamlessly now. Leonardo pulled her right leg against his shoulder, and slowly stretched the limb forward with careful pressure.
Calley breathed in and out deeply as he advanced to another position with her hamstring.
"Is that okay? I'm not hurting you, am I?" Leo asked.
Calley released another breath before she answered him. "No. It feels good, Leo. Keep pushing it a little longer."
"You'll give me the signal if I am too rough, won't you?" His tone was more teasing than serious.
"I know what signals to give you," she said pointedly, motioning to him with her index finger.
"I'm not familiar with that one."
"It's kind of universal, Leo. It means come here."
The turtle bent down from his kneeling position, and Calley sat up to wrap her arms around his neck. She felt a release when she kissed him that did more for her spirit than three hours of stretching could have.
Calley held onto the kiss until she needed to breathe, and smiled at the boyish way that Leonardo rubbed the back of his head.
"I didn't want to watch TV anyway," he said.
She chuckled. "Yeah, Leo, me neither."