Chapter Thirteen: The Sketchbook

"Now, it was your brother who lost the contest," Paige told the other Hamato siblings. "None of you need to be doing this."

"Nah, it's cool, Paige," Leonardo insisted.

For the second time that week, the Hamato children found themselves inside Paige's apartment building. Only this time, they were imposing instead of invited. At the crack of ten, they had appeared and began the meticulous task of un-boxing every book on the first floor and hanging up new shelves. Ever the late-riser, Paige had been awoken to the sound of rustling and shameless arguing. She had crept down to the first floor, a pad of paper at the ready and cursing herself for not installing her security system. Upon finally reaching the first level, she'd discovered the source of the noise and smiled.

"I'm serious," she continued, "You don't have to do this."

Again, Leo brushed it off. "We know we don't have to, we want to."

Raphael, who was struggling with one particularly heavy box, rolled his eyes. "Speak for yourself," he grumbled. Just for that, he received a smack on the head from his older brother.

"Can it, Raph," Leo ordered; quietly so that Paige would not hear them. "If we do something nice for her, she might help us with Bishop."

"What was that?" Paige asked.

Leonardo gave his best fake smile. "Heh heh. Nothing, Paige." He turned back to his brother. "Besides, this whole 'not knowing what we're up against' thing is starting to get to us. We could use a little distraction." Without waiting for a reply, he proceeded down to hall and got to work.

Rubbing his head, Raphael sighed and went back to his own work. But not before indiscreetly calling his brother a neat freak. At the far end of the hallway, Mikey was working with Karai to pile all the boxes up against one wall, leaving the other bare for them to hang the bookshelves on.

Donnie approached Paige, his open laptop cradled in his hands. Out of all his siblings, he seemed to be the most excited. And it was easy to see why. "Paige, you got a second? I've been meaning to talk to you about your security system. You just wait, this place is gonna get the full Donnie Treatment. Security cameras, laser beam alarm triggers, pepper-spray booby traps. Maybe a fingerprint scanner for the front door!"

Paige smiled in spite of herself. She was touched and very appreciative, but the genius turtle seemed to be missing the point. "That's well good, Donnie, but isn't it a bit…excessive?" She emphasized the last word, hoping he would take the hint.

But it was too late. Donatello's eyes were already glazed over in geeky anticipation. "Nonsense. I've never lived in Brooklyn before, but I know plenty of people who have and ended up regretting it. Can't be too careful, Paige."

"But, Donnie, I…" She reached for him, but he'd already puttered away to begin his work. She didn't have time to try him again as she notice Mikey struggling with one of the larger boxes. She trotted over to him and used her papermastery to set the box down before Mikey could hurt himself. "Michelangelo," she scolded gently. "Don't push yourself. You worry me."

"Aw, it's all good, P. Can I call you P?"

"Absolutely not," she replied bluntly.

He let out something like a cross between a whimper and a laugh. "Alrighty, Paige it is."

Paige held up her hands in a gesture for them to stop what they were doing. "Alright, enough," she announced. "This is what we'll do. Since Raphael lost the spice-off fair and square, he's in charge of the 7th, 8th, and 9th floors." She turned to the remaining Hamato siblings."The rest we split amongst ourselves. Agreed?"

Leo stepped forward. "But, Paige-"

She held a finger to his lips. "Uh uh! Agreed?"

"Agreed," everyone but Raph chorused.

Paige laid a hand on Mikey's shoulder. "Michelangelo, you're still recovering, so I'm putting you in charge of the kitchen."

"Alright!" he cheered.

"Yes," Paige agreed. "We'll make the meals for the day. And I can make some more of that curry that made your brother squirm."

"Hey, it was not that bad," Raphael retorted.

"Wasn't that bad?" Mikey sassed. "You looked like your tongue was about to fall off, dude."

Paige looked at the other Hamato siblings. "So it's settled. That's not a problem, is it? Raphael?"

He forced a smile, one that hurt his cheeks with the exertion. "Not. At. All."

It was on a whim that Casey ended up here, in front of his mother's grave. He was pleasantly surprised to see an assortment of fresh flowers already lying on top of the plot. Must have been Paige, he thought with a warm fondness. Now, his own meager offerings, three long-stemmed roses, seemed so small compared to the expensive tulips now sitting on the grave. A sudden sadness dawned on him as he realized just how much time had passed since his last visit. He had meant to drop by but some things needed his attention more, namely a mutant invasion and his responsibilities at home. But he knew his mother well enough to know that those were hardly good excuses. He set his own small patch of flowers on the grave and knelt down.

"I miss you, mom," he began shakily. "Sorry I…took so long to…to…" Stifled sobs assaulted him, breaking his sentences. He dragged a ragged sleeve across his rapidly-dampening face. "This is not cool, Casey Jones," he scolded.

He looked around for anything to keep him distracted from a full-on melt-down. The crying thing just wasn't his. He spotted a young oak tree some ways away, its branches low enough to the ground that it would make for a perfect tire swing setup. It brought to mind a memorable experience he had as a child, one that brought a sad smile to his face.

"Just so you know, mom, I kinda inherited your twisted sense of humor. Remember that day at the park when I was nine…"

His mother obviously couldn't answer, but at least Casey remembered that day.

"You really think we should leave him like that?" Paige asked.

"Ah, don't worry," Antonia insisted. "He'll come down."

The usual Sunday picnic would have gone peacefully, as it usually does, had Casey not managed to get himself stuck in that tree. Now the two girl friends stood on the grassy earth beneath the shade of the tree, their heads cocked to the side in curious amusement.

"Mom," the boy called, "could you get me down?"

"Sweetie, you got yourself stuck up there, you can get yourself back down."

"Doesn't that seem a bit harsh?" Paige asked.

Antonia shook her head, dark waves of hair bouncing around her face. "Nah. My parents did the same thing to me once. Besides, he's low enough to the ground; he shouldn't hurt himself. Come on, before my husband eats all the hotdogs."

Paige scratched the back of her head. "Um, Toni, I think I'll stay here, and make sure he doesn't get hurt." With a shrug and one final look at her son, Antonia went back to the picnic. Paige turned her attention to the panicking boy. "Alright, Casey, try to right yourself."

Casey kept his death grip on the branch. "Paige, can you get me down?" he begged.

Paige shook her head. "I don't know about that, Casey. I don't want to go over your mum's head."

Casey was starting to shake, a desperation that grated at his nanny's heart emerging in his tone. "Paige, seriously! I'm startin' to freak out."

Her response was a heartfelt sigh. Paige knew she couldn't catch him from that height without hurting herself and him. But she knew of one thing that she could do. She looked around to see if anyone was watching, an idea forming in her head. It could work; she had just enough paper in her pockets. She cleared her throat and produced a few brown sheets of paper. "Alright, Casey. Now, close your eyes and let go."

He replied by hugging the branch even tighter. "Are you nuts? No!"

"Casey, it's alright. I'll catch you. You can trust me."

He shook his head with such vigor that his face might have been sent flying. Then he caught sight of the light in his nanny's eyes as she flashed him yet another warm, heartfelt smile.

"Trust me," she insisted.

An eternity passed before Casey finally relented ad took one deep breath. He squeezed his eyes shut and snatched his hands from the branch. He had no idea what happened next, but he could definitely feel the world spinning and then suddenly righting itself. He also felt a strange pressure on his back, one that reminded him of the way his dad would suspend him up in the air on the soles of his feet when he was younger. As soon as he felt the cool moisture of grass beneath his feet, Casey heard Paige say, "Open your eyes."

And he did. He was safe. He was on the ground, not a single scratch on him. He looked at his nanny.

She pressed a finger to her lips, mouthing a 'shh'. In her other hand was a medium-sized paper airplane. Bending down to his level, she handed him the paper creation. She gave his hair an affectionate tousling as he looked the plane over in his hands.

"This'll be our little secret," she told him.

"Now that I think about it," Casey sniffled, "compared to you, Paige is a complete push-over, huh, mom?"

Smiling at the happy memory, Casey wiped away the last of the tears from his treacherous eyes. He looked around, wondering just how much time had passed. It was getting dark and his friends were expecting him.

"Gotta run. See ya later, mom…Love you."

He bent down and patted the hedge stone before collecting his bag and leaving. Time to go and see his pals. And his other mom.

Hours passed and morning turned into evening. The sounds of drilling had finally died down as the last of the shelves were finally secured into place. All that was left were to organize the books, sweep up, and enjoy a well-deserved dinner prepared by Mikey and Paige. Upstairs on the ninth floor, Raphael's spiral of self-depreciation continued. Only this time, he was taking out his frustration on the boxes, kicking them over and throwing their contents around. At least he was almost done; he was finally at the end of the hall, the steel door that lead to the roof in sight.

"For the love o' pizza, Raph! What the heck were you thinking?" he demanded. "Dang it, I hate myself!"

Then he realized something. "Wait," he stopped himself. "Wait. Wait. Why should I go there? That's negative." Just like how Master Splinter taught him, Raphael took one deep cleansing breath and let it out with a hiss, and his fingers pointing outward. "I hate her," he corrected. "I hate the British! With those-those bony hands, and-and-and Gordon Ramsay with his elephant skin!"

With that, he threw a particularly hard kick at one of the larger boxes. It tipped over, its contents spilling out onto the rugged floor in front of the second-to-the-last door in the hall. The force sent a hardbound book sliding forward, where it managed to nudge open the door. It cracked open just enough to make the red-banded turtle notice. The latch must not have been in place. Breathing a heavy sigh, Raph moved to shut the door. But before he could, he managed to catch a glimpse of what exactly was inside. Raph was suddenly speechless. He'd never seen a room like this before. And why would she have a room like this?

"Raphael!" he heard Paige call. Speak of the Devil. She was in the stairway. And heading closer.

He snatched his hand away from the doorknob as though it burned him. Thinking quickly, he cleaned up his mess, shut the door, and piled as many books and boxes as time allowed in front of it. Looked innocent enough, he figured. Just in time as well, as Paige's head poked through the corner. She walked over to him.

"What were you doing?" she half-demanded, but there was a hint of genuine concern in her tone. "I was worried you'd found yourself under a pile of books. Where were you?"

Raph cleared his throat. "Sorry I didn't hear you, I was in one of the rooms-"

"Which room?"

Paige asked with such urgency and alarm that Raphael nearly spilled the beans. Instead he did the only thing he could do: he lied. "Uh, that room." He pointed the door opposite the one he'd opened. He stole a sideways glance at Paige, whose face remained impassive; if ever she wasn't convinced, she certainly had no intention of letting him know. He decided to change the subject. "Why would I be under a pile of books?"

Paige raised both eyebrows. "It's happened before." She looked round at the state of the hall. The shelves were firmly in place and there were no more than ten full boxes left. "This is good enough, Raphael, I can finish it myself tomorrow. You must be tired."

Raph blinked in surprise. "What? No. I lost fair and square. I have to finish this."

"It's alright," she insisted. "You've done enough to help me. I really do appreciate it." The silence that then passed between them was all kinds of awkward. It was thankfully broken by the sound of Paige clearing her throat. "I think you should know that you'll be seeing a lot more of me. I'm staying on as Casey's father's physical therapist. I was going to tell him yesterday, but I decided against it."

"Well," Raph began, "when are you gonna tell him?"

"Oh. In a few days. Maybe on his birthday."

Raph cocked an eyebrow. "His birthday's in a few days?"

"Yes. Didn't he tell you?"

"No," Raph admitted, feeling strangely betrayed. "For someone who likes to talk about himself, Casey sure does leave a lot of stuff out."

Paige chuckled. "Yeah. He does that. In fact, up until he met you lot, he was even more secretive. It's like he has a whole other secret life. He doesn't, does he?"

That was not expected. "What?" Raph stammered, remembering how Casey didn't want the truth of his vigilantism getting out. "No. O-Of course not!"

Again, she did not looked convinced. Raph gulped.

Paige had absentmindedly begun to stroke one of the boxes, gently running her palm over the grainy cardboard as though it were a pet. "I know you're probably wondering about all the books," she said suddenly. "Me mother loved books. Me mentors loved books. I was never far from a good book. And if I think hard enough, I can remember where each and every one of them came from." She knelt down, pried open the box, and began producing random books from it. "This one I got from a used-book store in Japan...And this one I bought from a book fair in Germany…And this one is from a gift shop in New Orleans. Do you know what they all have in common?"

Raph shook his head.

Paige smiled warmly. "They're all good books and they're all some of me favorites." She set the books down and stood, her hands clasped behind her back and her head bowed in thought. "You know, good books are just like people, in a way."

Raph cocked his head. "Really?" he asked skeptically. "What makes you say that?"

Paige shrugged. "Oh. Call it fate or coincidence or what-have-you, but it brought me to some wonderful books, as well as people. It's what led me to Casey and his family." She looked him in the eye. "I'm sure it's what brought you to your family."

The earnest intensity in her gaze was one that Raphael couldn't hold. It was as if his own father's eyes were bearing down on him after a serious lecture.

"That's why I say all good books are just like people. They always manage to find their way into the lives of the ones who want them and need them from the bottom of their heart." Turtle and human shared a smile of understanding.

"So," Raph began. "You're telling me you remember every book in all of these boxes?"

"You never know when you're going to need something. It helps to have a sharp memory. Even more so when you're a double agent...or ninja." She winked at him. Then Paige looked thoughtfully at her green charge, one finger stroking her chin. "You strike me as the artistic type," she said. She went back to the box and pulled forth a small black book. "I bought this after an assignment in France, thinking it was some kind of pocket book. Turns out it was a sketchbook." Paige strode over and handed him the book. "I'd like you to have it."

Raphael looked down at the gift in his hands. "I don't know if I can accept this."

Paige hooked her arm around his in reply. "I know you can accept it. You've helped me a great deal today." With that, she began to lead him back down the hall to the stairway. "Come on," she said kindly. "You must be hungry. I know your siblings are. They looked just about ready to kill you when I told them to wait till everyone was at the table."

"Huh, I bet they did," he agreed, tucking the sketchbook into his belt.

Paige titled her head. "Michelangelo is…sort of strange, isn't he?"

"Oh," Raph observed. "You picked up on that, huh?"

Though Paige tried her best to hide it, from the way she was discreetly leading him away, Raph could tell she no longer wanted him anywhere near that door. Raphael gave one last careful look over his shoulder at the aforementioned door. He couldn't help but think that he'd just seen something he shouldn't have. However, he was, after hearing what Paige said, strangely at peace with it; just like how he felt after a good talk with his father.

Author's Note:

There was actually more to this chapter, but if I continued any more, we'll end up with 10,000 words. Haha Ain't Nobody Got Time For That!

While I'm obviously not gonna tell you what's in that room (yet), I can tell you that the flashback was based on a true story. It happened to my uncle when he was a kid and he stupidly got himself stuck in a coconut palm with no way to get down. While everyone panicked, my grandmother (his mom) simply stated: "He'll come down". And then just walked the f*ck away. LOL

So, yeah. Casey knew the whole time that Paige wasn't your average everyday nanny; didn't any of you notice how strangely unsurprised he was when Paige saved him from his fall in chapter 4? I actually leave a lot of little breadcrumbs for you guys, hoping you can find your way to the candy house (what the eff is this metaphor?). And I know that it's Mikey who is usually portrayed as the artistic one, but 2k12 Raph seems to have it down more than him. Go figure. I just up and went with it. Looks like Paige and Raph have officially reached the friend zone. *sigh* finally.

Sorry for the long wait, but I was busy with my final culinary exam. In the course of four days, I've had to make 18 pretzel rolls, 2 baguettes, 3 loaves of challah, 3 bread baskets, a loaf of sourdough, twenty grissini, twenty English muffins, and two raisin loaves. Not to mention handmade sausages, cheeses, and butter. But it was worth it; at least none of my diners went out for pizza lol.

Thanks for reading, as always!