A/N: Hey guys, first of all thank you again for those of you who've taken the time to review. I really do appreciate it. Sorry this chapter took me a bit longer to get written. This weekend was so busy between school, work, my husband's birthday, trying to find a new job, grooming dogs, helping out my Dad, and dog sitting my Dad's dog overnight. I was completely and utterly exhausted and I tried working on this - got a few pages done and really really hated it. But today at work I got lucky - as I always do when I'm at work. For some reason that is when inspiration loves to hit. So I came home and worked furiously on this chapter and got it written just the way I wanted it to be. So I hope you guys enjoy it. I'll update again when I can but I've got a final to study for next week as well as my sister's baby shower and Dad's birthday. So those things are my main focus right now but I promise I'll update again as soon as I can. At least I didn't leave it on a cliff hanger. :D
Chapter 5
"How much longer is she going to be here, Donny?" Leonardo demanded as soon as Donatello entered the kitchen.
Donatello sighed quietly. "I don't know, Leo. She refuses to go to the hospital and her blood pressure is still too low for her to be on her own. Until it stabilizes more she's going to have to stay here."
"Come on, Leo," Michelangelo coaxed as he set a bowl of rice down on the table. "With April and Casey in California with April's sister it's kind of nice to have a guest stay here."
Leonardo scowled but didn't say anything. He busied himself by spooning some rice onto his plate.
Donatello sat down opposite Leonardo and helped himself to the rice and green beans. "Hey, Mikey?"
"Yeah, Donny?"
"Would you mind fixing something for Elizabeth? I don't know how her stomach is going to react with those painkillers and I think fried fish might be too hard on it."
"Sure, Donny," Michelangelo agreed easily as put a plate of fried fish on the table next to Leonardo's plate. He gave his brother an easy smile as he sat down, which Donatello gratefully returned.
"Hey, where's Master Splinter?" Michelangelo asked, just noticing for the first time their sensei's absence.
Leonardo shot a worried look at the paper rice sliding door that separated Splinter's quarters from the rest of the lair. "He said he wasn't feeling very well, Mikey. He'll eat later."
"He hasn't been feeling good a lot lately," Michelangelo said, stabbing his fork into the pink fish moodily.
"Garden rats don't have a very long lifespan, Mikey," Donatello said quietly. "The average rat only has the life span of a year, but even in captivity their life span is only… " He trailed off when Leonardo shot him an angry glare.
Michelangelo's face was stricken, his blue eyes wide behind his orange mask. "But Master Splinter isn't… I mean he's different."
"We all are, Mikey," Leonardo said patting his little brother's arm comfortingly. "Master Splinter is fine, he's just a little tired tonight is all."
Michelangelo still didn't look convinced and Donatello was sure that Leonardo was going to chew him out for it later. He poked his own fork into the pink fish, no longer very hungry.
The three brothers picked at their meal in silence, none of them looking up from their plates. Finally Michelangelo stood up, his food barely touched and walked over to the sink to scrape the remains into the drain.
Donatello pushed his rice around with his fork as he watched his younger brother, noting the stiffness of his brother's shoulders as Michelangelo rinsed off his plate and set it aside for washing later.
Leonardo gave Donatello another sharp look before rising and heading to the sink. Michelangelo took the plate from him and ran in under the hot water.
"Is there something specific you want me to make fore Elizabeth, Donny?" Michelangelo asked, not bothering to turn around.
"Just something easy on the stomach, Mikey. Soup or oatmeal – something like that."
Michelangelo nodded, wiped his hands on the hand towel and pulled out a small pot from the cupboard.
"Why don't you save some for Master Splinter, Mikey?" Leonardo suggested.
Michelangelo's eyes brightened a little as he reached for the container of oatmeal. "Sure, Leo."
Leonardo smiled before heading for the dojo. He had only made it halfway across the living room when he heard the unmistakable sound of Donatello's security lock clicking and then the front door opened announcing Raphael's return.
Leonardo waited, arms folded across his plastron as his brother walked into the lair. "You missed dinner."
"Casey had leftover Chinese – I'm not hungry," Raphael grunted.
"Look, Raph," Leonardo said, trying to keep his voice calm although the look his brother gave him made his irritation flicker. "I'm not happy about this girl being here. But Donny says she has to stay here until she has stabilized some more, so until she leaves I don't think we should be out running patrols. We don't need to draw the attention of someone who could be out there looking for her. The last thing we need are more unexpected and unwelcomed guests down here."
"Whatever, fearless leader," Raphael growled pushing past his brother. "Donny told me dat she'd probably be gone in a few days anyway."
Without another word he made his way up the stairs to his room. Leonardo shook his head and stalked off to the dojo.
Elizabeth opened her eyes, feeling the tears stinging them. She had heard Raphael and Leonardo's quick conversation, although she was almost sure that they weren't aware that their voices had carried to this room. But was that all she was to these brothers? And unwelcome unexpected house guest? A burden to them? She didn't want to be a burden to these strange creatures. Raphael may have saved her life but he didn't owe her anything – she owed him not the other way around. She shouldn't be pressing her company on them. She knew that Donatello had told her that she wasn't stable enough to leave the lair unless it was to the hospital, but she was not going to go to the hospital. She wouldn't press her hosts' hospitality any further but she was not going to go there either.
Her only warning of Donatello's return was the soft padding of footsteps before Donatello appeared in the doorway with a steaming bowl in his hands. He gave her a small smile when he saw her.
"Mikey made you some oatmeal," Donatello said stepping over to the cot and handing her the warm ceramic bowl.
Elizabeth barely suppressed a grimace. She detested oatmeal, but she didn't think it would be very good manners to say so. She pressed her lips into a tight smile and swirled the lumpy hot porridge around with her spoon.
Donatello didn't seem to notice Elizabeth's wrinkled nose or the tightness around her eyes as she stared at her meal. He was too busy gathering a few tools from underneath his work bench.
"I'll be back in a little bit," Donatello said giving her another warm smile before hurrying out of the room.
Elizabeth watched him go, she felt her shoulders sag in relief. At least she wouldn't have to force the disgusting hot porridge down her throat in front of Donatello. She frowned down at the lumps, picked up a spoonful and let the lumpy mixture to drop back into her bowl again.
If she had been at home this wouldn't have been a problem, she could have avoided the oatmeal altogether. Graham always insisted that she do the shopping and cook the meals. Of course if she made something he wasn't in the mood for she'd have to cook something else entirely. They didn't eat together often, but when they did Elizabeth found it a very unpleasant experience. Graham would watch her with those steely eyes of his while he shoveled large amounts of food into his mouth. Elizabeth usually pushed her food around on her plate, occasionally hiding some of it in her napkin when Graham wasn't looking. He never seemed to notice, nor did he seem to care that she had lost a lot of weight – in fact he liked her that way.
But as she looked down at her bowl of lumpy oatmeal she knew that this wouldn't be the same case. She gathered that Donatello was much more aware of such things. Even though she had only known him for a short time she got the impression that Donatello was a stickler for details, that he was a much stricter medic than he appeared on the surface and she gathered he wouldn't be happy if she refused to follow his orders.
Tentatively she lifted a spoonful of hot porridge to her mouth and forced it into her mouth. She gagged as the oatmeal touched her tongue, her eyes watered and her throat closed up. She choked as she forced herself to swallow the oatmeal. She coughed a bit and put the spoon down, knowing she wouldn't be able to eat the rest of it. No matter how strict a medic Donatello was. She dug her spoon around a bit in the oatmeal, pushing it up against the sides of the bowl to make a definite dent in the porridge. Then she set the bowl on the floor next to her cot and lay down, hoping that when Donatello returned he would think she was sleeping.
She lost track of the time as she laid there. Her body began to feel heavy and her breathing started to even out when she heard someone come into the room. She heard them lift the cereal bowl from the floor, a hand rested on her forehead briefly, then the footsteps disappeared.
She could hear the sounds of someone moving around outside the room she was in. The hushed voices of whispered conversations, some of them sounding rather heated, and then what sounded like a TV News caster on low volume.
They had a TV down here? How did they get reception in the sewers? Elizabeth's curiosity peaked at that notion. It seemed to her that there was a lot more to these turtles than met the eye. If they had met under different circumstances perhaps she would feel differently about learning more about them. But Leonardo's unfriendliness unnerved her. He appeared to be the turtle that held the most power, or was at least the oldest. She had heard it in Donatello's voice when he had spoken Leonardo's name and when Leonardo had glared at her for that brief moment when she had seen him. He had held a protective glint in his eyes, as if trying to shield his brothers from her. Definitely the oldest she decided.
She couldn't blame him for being wary of her, he knew nothing about her and Raphael had brought her here without giving the others any kind of warning. Donatello had been friendly enough, but she had no idea how Michelangelo felt about her being here. For all she knew he agreed with how Leonardo felt about her being here.
She was sure that if she snuck out while the turtles were sleeping she'd be able to find a manhole and climb out. She'd seen sewer workers climbing in and out of those manholes – so how hard could it be to find one and get out of the sewers? She didn't want to be stopped though so she'd have to wait until the turtles were asleep.
After what seemed like hours the lair outside the room Elizabeth was occupying was quiet. The TV died down and the hushed voices ceased. Still Elizabeth waited, not wanting to get up too soon and run into one of the turtles, especially Leonardo.
She counted the seconds, holding her breath and biting her lip whenever she heard a creak outside then she'd start all over again.
996…. 997… 998… 999… 1000
Elizabeth strained her ears as she listened for any noise coming outside the infirmary. She was met with silence. She smiled a little as she wrapped the sheet around herself and swung her legs over the edge of the cot. She had to find where Donatello had put the shirts he'd taken off her when he'd dressed her wound. She scanned the dark room, her eyes blinking as they adjusted to the dim lighting.
She spotted them after a minute, sitting on a lone stool that was sitting in the corner. Getting quietly to her feet she walked to the stool and picked up her shirt and cotton sweater. But something was wrong. The shape was off, almost like it didn't really have a shape anymore. She touched the material gingerly with her fingers and frowned when she felt the front of the shirt. Donatello had not just removed them from her he'd cut them off. They were both completely ruined.
Elizabeth's eyes filled with angry tears. Now what was she to do? She couldn't very well go around with only a sheet wrapped around her. She didn't have any spare clothes with her and she didn't have any money to even buy a new shirt from a store – even if they were open this late.
She tossed the ruined clothing aside and looked around the small room, hoping to find something that would be decent enough for her to drape around herself so she could leave.
A small faded blanket sat on the foot of the cot, folded neatly. It was thick but warm and she could easily conceal herself within its folds. Knowing she didn't have another choice she exchanged the sheet for the blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders and pinching the front together with her injured hand, leaving her other hand free. She pulled the top of the blanket up over her head, using it as a hood. She was completely concealed.
She had no idea where her shoes were but she didn't care – she could always get new shoes. Graham would probably give her a black eye for losing her shoes, but that would be the least of her worries. She was sure he'd crack a few of her ribs or break her leg when she returned home. He'd yell at her for having him so worried and then beat her until she was flat on the ground at his feet. She shivered inside the warm blanket. She really didn't want to return home – but she didn't want to stay where she wasn't wanted either.
She weighed her options quietly for a minute before stepping out of the infirmary and into the large expansive area of the lair. Her eyes widened as she took in the bookshelf that leaned slightly to one side, many tattered books resting on the shelves. An old battered blue couch sat in front of an entertainment center – which look like at least a dozen TV's of many different sizes all hung on the wall. There was also a large table that held a large gaming system, strewn about with several open game cases, and a tired looking old DVD player.
A faded old armchair sat next to the couch, this one seemed less abused than the couch and Elizabeth gathered that it wasn't used as often. She glanced at it curiously for a minute then hurried across the room, forcing her feet to keep going when she spotted the front door. She grabbed the handle, held her breath as she listened for sounds that she'd been found out and when she found none she opened the door and stepped out into the dark sewers, closing the door quietly behind her.
Leonardo could see the flickering light of the single candle he had burning for his late night meditation through his closed eyelids. His body was completely and utterly relaxed, he could feel the tension he'd felt all day with having Elizabeth staying at the lair with them leaving his body. Meditating was the only way he could relax with Elizabeth staying here.
He tried to force that from his mind, tried to let his mind relax and forget about her. But she kept popping up to the front of his mind. It wasn't as if they hadn't had guests before and he had never been this tense about. So what was it about Elizabeth that made him so uneasy? Was it because it was someone on the surface could possibly be looking for her? Could it just be for the simple protection of his family that he feared having her here? Or was it something else? Something dark he could feel looming over them?
A shrill alarm had Leonardo's eyes snapping open. Instantly he was on his feet, his candle put out and he was racing out of his room. Donatello too was up but had already reached the lower level, had turned on the lights and was running to his lab. Leonardo recognized the alarm – it was a perimeter alarm warning – someone had tripped something in one of the tunnels surrounding the lair.
This had been what Leonardo had feared – someone was too close to their home for Leonardo's comfort.
Down the hall he could see Raphael and Michelangelo emerging from their rooms, both of them looking extremely tired and half asleep. Leonardo didn't bother with the stairs, but flipped off the landing and landed gracefully on the balls of his feet before hurrying after Donatello.
"What is it, Donny?" Leonardo demanded as he stepped into Donatello's lab.
Donatello was hunched over his computer, tapping several keys furiously. "Looks like the alarm in the south tunnel was trigged when someone hit one of the booby traps."
"The foot?" Leonardo asked, leaning forward to stare at the computer over Donatello's shoulder.
Donatello shook his head. "No, Leo – and I think I know who it is."
"Who?" Michelangelo and Raphael asked together as they joined their brothers.
Donatello turned and pointed to the empty cot, the abandoned sheet strewn on the floor, the old tattered clothes lying discarded next to the stool they had been sitting on. He turned to his older brother. "Looks like she took your hint, Leo. Elizabeth is gone."
Elizabeth stumbled and leaned up against the slimy sewer wall for support fighting to catch her breath. She was finding it hard to navigate her way through the sewers and that had been before she's tripped over something and had sharp objects flying at her so suddenly it had taken her by surprise. But the real shock had come when she'd felt something small and sharp slice through the flesh of her exposed arm. She carefully pulled it out and tossed it away, feeling hot blood run down her arm as she stumbled away from the booby trap she'd obviously triggered. She'd had no idea that the turtles had set up traps around their lair. She treaded more carefully now, but she was bleeding heavily from the wound on her arm, not so profusely that a severed artery came to mind, but enough to make her a little light headed.
Something with tiny hairy legs crawled down her neck and Elizabeth jumped, swatting away the insect and stepping away from the wall, regretting it instantly when her vision swam again. Still she had to keep going – she couldn't stay here. She had to get to a manhole – had to get out of the sewers. As long as she was down here she was a danger to the turtles, if someone found her down here – someone the turtles were afraid of they might try to use her to find out where the turtles' home was. Not that Elizabeth could tell them even if she'd wanted to. The sewer tunnels were much more expansive and confusing than she'd ever thought they would be. She couldn't believe how quickly she'd gotten turned around once she'd gotten away from the lair.
Being careful to avoid the watered down sewage Elizabeth followed the dark tunnel, praying that a manhole cover would be around the next turn. She was disappointed when there wasn't one.
Her knees shook violently and buckled beneath her, making her throw out her hands to prevent her from landing face first in the stagnant water and other things that Elizabeth really didn't want to think about.
Hot tears splashed down her cheeks and she lay down on the ground too exhausted and sore to move anymore. Why had she left the lair? Why hadn't she just simply told the turtles that she wished to return home? Anything was being better than being stuck in the stinky sewer tunnels alone and injured.
She sniffed pitifully and rolled onto her back, ignoring the slime that coated her dark hair. She wanted Raphael. She closed her eyes, remembering his warmth, his rough voice, his scarred strange skin. She could remember those strange amber eyes behind that dark red mask he wore, those strange weapons he kept on his belt. She'd never gotten around to asking him why he carried them. Why they wore the masks – or how he'd saved her from those men in the park. And now she'd never know.
More hot tears slid slowly down the sides of her face, disappearing into her tangled dark hair. Her throat felt so swollen and raw and her chest ached. Her eyelids were suddenly very heavy and the urge to close them weighed on her. Why was she here again? She couldn't remember.
And then there were footsteps. She knew she should be worried, that someone was quickly approaching her and from the sounds of his heavy breathing it was definitely a male. But she couldn't find the strength to care about who he was or what he wanted. She just wanted to sleep.
"Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth's eyelids flickered at the sound of her name being called but she didn't open her eyes.
"Come on," the voice said lifting her into a strong protective pair of arms. "Everyone is out looking for you."
Elizabeth felt the steady sway of his body as he walked, carrying her with him. She felt him shift her body a little and then a soft click, the sound of a phone ringing and someone answering it on the first ring.
"Leo?" Someone demanded on the other end of the line.
"Raph, it's ok – I found her."
Consciousness was slow in returning for Elizabeth. But she was sure that she hadn't dreamed either. She wasn't even aware that she had fallen asleep. She had kept hearing those strange voices talking in hushed whispers all around her but could never figure out what they were saying. They were garbled and unfocused, as if she had been listening to them talk while her ears had been underwater. But she was sure she had heard the voices.
She frowned a little keeping her eyes closed as she tried to remember what had happened. She had remembered being at the turtles' home and one of them in particular being worried about her staying with them. So she'd left. She remembered her long trek through the dark tunnels of the sewer but then she'd been in a large black room with the voices occasionally breaking the silence. She wasn't afraid of this black room that she sat in – she'd been here before. In fact she came here quite often when Graham had been drinking too much. In this black room she was safe from his beatings, she was safe from his anger. In this room she was free.
The first thing Elizabeth was aware of was how heavy her body felt. It weighed down on her, crushing her to a familiar cot. Donatello. He must have given her more of those painkillers that knocked her out and made it feel as if a big invisible barrier was crushing her to the bed. It would also explain why her eyes refused to open, those painkillers and made her so tired before. But now she fought it, she didn't want to sleep. She wanted to know if she was really back at the lair. Slowly, unwillingly, her eyelids parted and she found herself staring up at the familiar ceiling.
She was back in the lair. She recognized it now, the smell, the semi-hard cot she was laying on, the cobweb strewn ceiling. Her arms were flat by her sides, her body once again covered with a light sheet. She could tell Donatello had doctored her again, she could feel the soft rub of the gauze bandages on her skin.
But how did she get back here? And why was she back here? She was almost positive that Leonardo did not want her here – it was why she had left in the first place. So how did she manage to get back here? Had the turtles realized she was missing and gone after her? If they had then why didn't they simply take her to the closest hospital and drop her off? It would have been so easy for them. She rolled her head slowly on her pillow, hoping to see Donatello at his desk working the computer there – or silently sipping at his cup of coffee.
But no – Donatello wasn't there. His chair had been pushed under his desk, his computer screen dark. The quiet hum of his computer fan was absent. It was obvious that Donatello hadn't been in here for a while. But, Elizabeth wasn't alone.
A dark silhouette leaned up against the edge of the doorway, looking at her from the shadows he hid in. She couldn't tell who it was from here, but she could feel his eyes on her, keeping a constant vigil. She strained her eyes, hoping to see a glint of color – red or purple maybe? A flash of a warm smile? Anything! Her eyes burned with the strain and watered making more tears trickle down her cheeks. She lifted a hand to brush them away… but she couldn't. Confused she looked down at her hands and her eyes widened in terror.
Soft padded restraints were wrapped around both of her wrists, and a slight twist of her legs told her that similar restraints were strapped around her ankles, keeping her legs pinned as well. Almost at once Elizabeth found it hard to take a breath. She fought back the panic but it crept up on her nonetheless.
And then he was there. She could feel his hot bitter breath on her face, she wrinkled her nose up against the smell, it burned her nose and her lungs. He'd been drinking whiskey again. His hands trapped her wrists, pinning them to the mattress, just as effective as a pair of handcuffs would. His fingers tightened hard enough on her skin to bruise her – she'd have to find something with sleeves long enough to hide those tomorrow. The weight of his body crushed her, she could barely breathe, let alone try to get out from under him. She was trapped. He smiled and stroked a hand down her cheek. She shuddered and shut her eyes as the familiar burn in her abdomen began. She tried to pull her arms free but found them both pinned again, the fact that she was resisting angered him. A sharp stinging blow to the face made her lie still. She stopped fighting. Graham's eyes were wide with delight as he roared with triumph and crushed his lips against hers, sucking the very air from her lungs.
"NO! NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Elizabeth thrashed on the cot, fighting her bonds, trying desperately to escape the straps that held her there.
"I told ya not ta strap 'er down, Donny!" Raphael growled glaring at his younger brother while trying to keep Elizabeth's jerking limbs still long enough for Donatello to unbuckle the straps.
"Raph," Leonardo said calmly from where he stood next to the doorframe. He'd called his brothers in as soon as Elizabeth had begun to fight her restraints. "She tried to sneak off. Who knows where she was going."
"She wasn't goin' ta da foot, Leo – if dat's what yer suggestin'," Raphael snapped angrily as Elizabeth's left arm strained against its restraint.
"LET ME GO! LET ME GO!" Elizabeth screamed, tears escaping from her clenched eyelids.
"Donny! Get dem things off 'er!" Raphael growled, pinning Elizabeth's left arm at the elbow.
"I've almost got… ahh!" Donatello's sentence was cut off with a sharp cry when Elizabeth's right leg, now free from its restraint, had popped up and caught him in the beak. Donatello's eyes watered briefly but he shook it off and quickly released the left ankle restraint.
"'Lizbeth," Raphael growled, leaning in close to her ear. "Donny's not gonna hurt ya – calm down."
All the fight left Elizabeth as quickly as it had started. Both Raphael and Donatello looked down at the limp girl in amazement. They shared a quick glance then both turned and released her arms from their restraints as well.
"Don't put dem things back on 'er, Donny," Raphael warned glaring at his blue banded brother who was still standing by the door.
Donatello was panting heavily and he shook his head. "No – I won't. I don't know what I expected but her reaction was much more severe than I would've expected if I'd thought about it." He looked her over carefully. "Ah, shell. She tore those stitches again."
Raphael looked and grimaced at the fresh patch of red staining the gauze on her shoulder again. Donatello sighed and reached for a pair of scissors, his needle and thread and a fresh gauze patch.
Raphael turned to Leonardo and saw his brother watching Donatello's antics with concern. But it wasn't for Donatello's safety this time. Raphael could see the shift in his brother's eyes. This time the concern was for Elizabeth.
"Leo," Raphael said softly, drawing his older brother's eyes to him. "We've gotta talk."