Don't hate me after this one, guys. I'll try to update as soon as I can. But thanks for sticking with me so far! Only about two more chapters left.
Mikey narrowed his eyes and gripped the edge of the building tightly, practically suspended above the sidewalk as he leaned forward to peer through the shadows at the two masculine figures closing in on Jennifer's back.
His heart dropped from his chest and he stood, but he could no faster move his feet than the men could reach out with long thieving arms and encased Jennifer in their clutches, practically tackling her to the ground.
She gave a strangled cry that was cut short, and she and the two men disappeared in only a seconds' time, melting into the forbidding darkness of the closest alley.
Mikey's throat tightened, the tips of his fingers growing cold with immediate fear. He did not spare himself even a second's hesitation before shooting across the building, nimbly sprinting along the ledge.
Once he was directly across the street, he leapt with a flip off the roof and allowed himself to fall toward the ground. He landed hard, but upright on the sidewalk and took off across the street, narrowly missing a taxi that barreled past and honked viciously.
The sounds of a struggle only came clear when he reached the mouth of the alley where his eyes took in the scene.
Jennifer was cocooned like a butterfly in the sticky arms of one of the thugs, his large, probably dirty, hand squishing her cheeks to keep her quiet as his accomplice dumped the contents of her purse out on the ground.
He grinned wickedly when a wallet fell out and hit the ground heavily.
"Alright, honey. Let's see wutcha got."
"If you got enough we'll let ya go," sneered the man holding her, his smirk nearly touching her ear.
"If not," said the man who was now thumbing through her wallet. He smiled without looking away. "Well, I guess you'll have to forfeit somethin' else."
Jennifer wiggled furiously and turned her head to the side. The man holding her shouted as she bit down on his hand.
She successfully ripped herself from his clutches and swung a foot up between his legs. He doubled over with a breathless shriek and she turned to run but was snatched by the second man who yanked her back, nearly throwing her to the ground.
Mikey shot into the alley, used the doubled-over man's back as a springboard, leapt up and spun a kick at the man clutching Jennifer's wrist.
She squealed and dropped to her knees, covering her head to protect herself.
"What the—?"
Mikey didn't give the now-standing man a chance to finish his exclamation. He reached him in two swift steps, punched him flat in the face, snatched a fistful of his shirt before he could fall backward, yanked him forward, kneed him in the gut, and then tossed him across the alley where he landed next to his partner who was groaning and shakily pushing himself up on his hands and knees.
He looked toward Mikey, one palm pressed against his temple, and his eyes widened. He shook his partner's shoulder frantically, grabbing at his shirt.
"Jimmy!" he said.
Jimmy groaned in response, now clutching at his bloody nose and struggling to sit up. He too looked over at the orange-banded turtle and grew wide-eyed. "What the freak is that?"
Mikey took a threatening step forward. "You want some more? Huh?" He yanked out his nunchucks and twirled them expertly, giving the two thugs a fluid demonstration, releasing the sickle blade on his kusarigama when he struck a ready pose, eyes narrowed.
They jumped and scrambled over each other as they struggled to their feet with a cry and ran from the alley, pushing one another out of the way to be the first one gone.
Mikey smiled to himself, returning his weapons to his belt. He looked over in Jennifer's direction, then realized he was standing out in the open and ducked into the shadows behind a dumpster just as she sat up on her knees and glanced around her.
Unfortunately, he still had a ways to go before he could be as stealthy as his sensei and ended up throwing his shell back against the dumpster with a little too much force. It created an echoing impact of clanging metal that scared a stray cat and sent it streaking for the mouth of the alley with a hiss.
Jennifer gasped and snapped her gaze toward the dumpster, peering in his general direction, though he knew she couldn't really see him.
"Hello?" she called.
His heart fluttered against his plastron and he squeezed his kneepads as he held his legs to his chest, craning his neck around the edge of the dumpster to peek at her.
She glanced nervously over her shoulder, her hands cupped together by her chest as though fear still coursed through her body. When she saw that her attackers had indeed disappeared, she looked back in Mikey's direction.
"I … I think they're gone," she stammered, as though trying to coax him out of hiding, as though he was the one that was afraid, which wasn't a far cry from the truth, but it wasn't the thugs he was afraid of.
He watched Jennifer lean forward, narrowing her eyes, pressing a palm to the ground, trying to get a better look. "Are you alright? They didn't hurt you did they?"
She must not have seen him before, when he jumped in on the struggle. She must've kept her head covered through the whole fight—or, while he scared the two men away. It couldn't really be considered a fight. They were pansies.
He swallowed dryly, trying not to breathe too quickly. He wanted to answer, but he didn't know if he should. What if she came closer? What if she actually saw him? Would she really be frightened?
He would like to think not, but experience told him otherwise. He didn't want to scare her.
But if he didn't answer, she might conclude that he was hurt and attempt to come to his aid. Then she would definitely see him.
He bit his lip nervously then took a trembling breath. "I'm okay. Are you okay?"
He watched her blink in surprise at his voice, a smile lifting her cheeks. "Yes, I'm fine. Thanks to you." She tilted her head. "Can I ask your name?"
His pulse slowed a little. Her voice was so gentle, so polite. He felt himself responding even before he could decide whether or not it was a good idea. "Michelangelo," he said softly. He turned his head a little more, but was careful not to leave the shadows. "Everybody calls me Mikey though."
He watched her smile grow. "Michelangelo," she repeated. "That's a lovely name. I bet you were named after the artist. He was one of my favorites when I was in college."
Mikey's cheeks burned, and he felt his breathing temper down to a normal pace again.
"How old are you, Mikey?"
His muscles loosened. "Fifteen," he said.
Her smile was so accepting. "I thought you sounded young," she said. "You're very brave for teenager. You seemed to know what you were doing back there. Do you save little old women like me very often?"
He furrowed his brow. "You're not old."
She chuckled. She had a very soothing laugh. "Thank you … Is there a reason you're hiding from me, Mikey? I won't hurt you." She laughed again. "Though I'm sure I probably couldn't if I tried."
"It's not that," Mikey said. He drew a little farther back, his pulse picking up again.
"Well, what is it? Is it an identity thing? Batman must never reveal that he's actually Bruce Wayne?"
He smiled to himself. "Something like that."
Her head titled to the opposite side. "Well, Mikey, you have already told me your name."
His eyes widened and he slapped his forehead.
She giggled. "It's alright. I'm good at keeping secrets … Would it be alright if I saw the face of my rescuer? It's not every day I cross paths with a superhero."
"You think I'm a superhero?" he asked, slightly flattered … Maybe a little more than slightly.
"What else would you be?"
"A ninja," he blurted out before slapping his hands over his mouth.
Her smile grew. "Ah, I see. Well, that explains your ability to scare grown men away. Do you take martial arts?"
"Ninjutsu."
"Wow," she said. "No wonder you're so brave. You really are a little ninja."
She spoke to him so kindly, so maternally, encouraging his responses, supporting his answers as though they were his entire reality, like a mother would a child who swore he was a king. He didn't mind that she spoke to him this way. He'd always wondered what it would be like to have a mother who spoke to him in such a manner.
He wanted to tell her more, but he knew he shouldn't. Leo would've slapped him twice already just for telling her his name. Raph would've slapped him for smiling at being called a superhero. Donnie would've been too afraid to speak in the first place.
"So is that a no?" Jennifer asked after a moment of silence.
"What?"
"I suppose ninjas aren't allowed to reveal their identities either."
"I really shouldn't."
She smiled, though there was a hint of disappointment in it.
His heart skipped a beat. "It's not that I don't want to," he said quickly. "It's just that ... I don't really want to scare you."
The moment he said it, he knew he shouldn't have. He just earned himself slap number four—probably five, since he would've gotten one both from Leo and Raph for that.
"What do you mean?" Jennifer asked.
He felt his cheeks flush and curled his fists on his kneepads. "It's nothing. I just … I look a little different."
She chuckled. "Well if that's all you're worried about, Mikey, I can assure you I won't judge. Trust me, living in New York, I've come across a lot of strange-looking people in my time, and some of them are my best friends."
His heart gave a tug and he tensed his shoulders to his neck. "This is a little different."
"Hm … Is it acne?"
"No," he said. "I had that once, though." He shuddered. "It was awful."
"No kidding. Mine used to be really bad … Do you have big ears?"
He rubbed the sides of his head where no ears of any kind resided at all. "Uh … Not exactly."
She hummed thoughtfully, shifting into a more comfortable sitting position with her elbows on her knees. "I do."
He squinted at her. "No, you don't."
"Thank you." She gazed at the pavement for a moment and her smile widened. "You know, you're very sweet, Mikey. You must have very good parents."
"Yeah. My sen— My dad's pretty awesome."
She nodded. "So was mine. He passed away couple of years ago from a heart attack. He lived a pretty full life though."
He grimace. "I'm sorry."
She smiled. "Me too … What about your mother?"
His heart dropped a significant distance and he heard his brothers' voices echoing in the back of his mind, telling him over and over again that this could not and would never be his mother, that he had no mother—none of them did.
It wasn't until then that he understood the discomfort they must have felt every time he brought up the subject. For Jennifer to ask such a question—it twisted his stomach into knots.
He wasn't sure what he should say. She might grow wary if he claimed that he was so sure she was his mother. Or else she'd laugh at him, shake her finger. Silly, naïve, little boy.
He felt a frown tugging on the corners of his lips. He drew his knees closer and looked down at them. "I don't have a mother," he said quietly. But these words felt so wrong leaving his tongue.
He heard her exhale, in such a way that might have been sympathetic. "I see. Me neither."
He blinked and peeked over at her again. "What happened to her?"
She smiled sadly. "She went away when I was very young. I never really knew her."
"Oh," he said, looking toward the ground. "I never knew mine either." Until now, was what he didn't say.
"It seems we have some things in common."
He turned his eyes up to her again as she glanced at a silver watch on her arm.
"You know, Michelangelo, it's getting pretty late. Your father must be worried. Do you live far? I'd like to make sure you get home alright."
"I'll be okay."
Her smiled dropped and her brow creased with concern. "I'm sure you will be," she said. "I'm not used to leaving kids alone, even ones as well practiced in self-defense as you. I really don't want you to run into any more trouble on your way home. I'm so grateful to you for saving me. But there tend to be an awful lot of bad people lurking around the city, especially at night. I don't want you to pick a fight with the wrong person. That could be dangerous."
You have no idea, he thought to himself. "I'll be fine, really. I walk around by myself all the time." Sort of.
"But this late at night?"
"Yeah."
Her brow furrowed further and she shook her head. "Really, Mikey, it would make me feel better to know that you've gotten home alright. I owe you that much at least."
His heart began to stutter again. "It's really better if you don't, Jen."
She blinked. "How did you know my name?"
His eyes widened and he shrunk further into the shadows, cheeks now completely inflamed. "You uh … You told me."
She pursed her lips uncertainly, as though running back through their conversation in her mind, trying to remember when she'd told him her name. After a moment, she seemed to put it to the side and looked back in his direction. "Why don't you come out from behind there, Michelangelo?"
He remained where he was, but his muscles coiled with the temptation.
Her smile returned. "I promise you, it'll be alright."
He stared, really wanting to believe in her words.
Maybe he could. Maybe it would be alright. She did say she wouldn't judge, and she knew him by now—in a way. He'd saved her life. Murakami didn't reject them when he'd figured out they were turtles because they'd saved his life. They'd saved April and her dad and now they were family friends too. Maybe that was how it worked. People tended to accept them more when Mikey and his brothers proved that they were good, that they were there to help and protect people—like superheroes.
Maybe it would be alright. He could try at least. And she was so nice, so gentle, so encouraging. And anyway, how was she ever supposed to be his mother if she didn't know him, know his face, what he was, where he came from? If he wanted to continue talking to her, get to know her better in the future, allow her know him, he'd have to show her.
He closed his eyes, hoping - praying - that she wouldn't mind his turtle-ness, convincing himself more and more by the minute that she wouldn't. She was his mother. Mother's always loved their children—no matter what.
He took in a long breath. "Promise you won't freak out?"
She made a noise, as though amused by this. "I promise, Mikey. You're alright."
His heart was practically beating in his brain, his breathing shallow again, fingers tingling and cold. He pushed himself into a crouch, waiting a moment, gathering courage, before he slowly stood to his full height and inched out of the shadows.
She gasped and shot up to her feet, stumbling backward, throwing a hand out as though to protect herself.
He stopped and held up his palms. "Please don't freak out."
She might've screamed, if only she had enough air to. Instead, she began to hyperventilate, continuing to back away though she was unsteady on her feet. "You're—you're …"
He took a step forward. "I know. I'm—"
"No! No, please!" she said, practically falling backward. "D-Don't come any closer."
He stopped, heart hitting his plastron particularly hard. "I won't hurt you," he said desperately. "It's me, Mikey."
She shook her head, one hand now pressed against her mouth, eyes glossed with unadulterated fear. "I'm-I'm sorry," she gasped through her fingers. "I have to go."
And with these words she turned and ran, avoiding the contents of her purse still strewn across the alleyway—not even bothering to stop for them.
His pulse froze. "But … Wait!"
He took a few steps after her. She looked back over her shoulder but did not stop. In fact, she practically tripped over her own feet trying to get away fast enough, and soon she was out of sight, safe from his presence around the corner somewhere.
His shoulders dropped as he stood there, staring at the spot where she'd disappeared.
His arms slowly replaced themselves by his sides, fingers twitching as something foreign and painful spread throughout his chest, like a bubble of glass had just shattered behind his ribcage and the shards were piercing every organ and bit of flesh in close proximity.
He'd never really believed it before, but he guessed he understood now. Hearts really could break.