Chapter 6

The breeze was warm, through the wide openings, rippling over his robe, filling his sensitive nose with the scent of motor oil and fuel. The hood hung over his eyes, revealing his nose, twitching with nervous energy. But also sensing any unseen soldiers or humans. The parking garage gave Master Splinter and his sons enough shadows to dart between until reaching the particular maintenance door they had found on the maps of the building. This led to a narrow hallway. An underground passage between the unassuming garage to the main compound.

They came across no one as their feet ghosted across linoleum. As expected the corridors were empty. The Foot's hub of activities mainly happened in the hours that found most people dreaming. It left the building hollow and near empty during the morning hours as Splinter had planned. They stopped outside a doorway, Master Splinter closed his eyes and brought to mind the schematics that he'd spent the night memorizing. Beyond was a stairway. He cracked open the door and Raphael and Donatello squeezed past him. Then with a glance over his shoulder he slipped inside. The door clicked behind him.

The boys turned their anxious faces to him. Eyes full of questions and unspoken fears.

"Down. To the lower floor. Where the holding cells are past the cafeteria and supply rooms."

They crept and scurried; having to press up against the corner of a doorway only once as a small group of men entered the cafeteria, talking in low casual voices about food orders and supplies coming in from Japan. Splinter's whiskers twitched. They waited a moment, then another and were off. Through more hallways, similar in layout, but growing more unkempt as though the floors were not washed with the same regularity as the others. They turned to a corridor that ended with a set of metal double doors.

Donatello dashed forward, he tried the handles. They turned without a sound. He reached into his pack and pulled out a device that at first glance looked like a revolver. He took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. A soft pop was heard and a ball of black paint speckled with silver to, at first glance, mimic the sight of lost connection on a television screen. He blotted out the camera up in the near corner. Quickly, he slipped in and repeated blocking out the camera positioned in the far corner. He motioned for his father and brother to enter and the two dashed in. Splinter ran about from door to opposite door, pulling open the sliding latch and peering inside.

"Anything?" Don asked.

"Leo," Raphael whispered as he followed Splinter's frantic searching at the other end. Donatello peeked out through the double doors as they searched for his brother, keeping an eye open for anyone. He fidgeted and continued to dart his eyes from the interior of the room to the hallway beyond.

"Hurry," he muttered, growing more and more anxious by the second.

Finally, Raph started and Splinter was instantly at his side. He peered through the narrow window to see not his son as first hoped, but a soldier, shirtless with his back to them; hanging from his bound wrists from the center of the room's ceiling. His back was a mess of scars, old and fresh, still dripping. Raphael and Splinter exchanged looks. Slowly, Splinter reclosed the window latch.

"Where is he?" Raph hissed.

Splinter's mind worked furiously to think above the roaring of his pulse in his ears and the screaming panic that was flailing at the edges of his reason. They could not have taken him somewhere else. It just couldn't be. They'd have to continue searching to be sure, either way. Raphael grabbed his arm, his face was desperate.

"Where is he?" he repeated.

Splinter shook his head and turned. Donatello tensed and spun. "Two," he said quietly and braced himself.

"We'll have our answers now."

Karai sat with her arm crossed over her stomach, watching Michelangelo juggling an apple and two oranges in the air where he sat on the folding chair near the far table. He'd been at it for a while and was slowly adding to the show with occasionally tossing items behind himself. Karai watched with a bored look on her face. He'd been nervously flitting in and out of the room the entire morning. It was obvious to her that he was worried.

"You don't have to sit in here the entire time," she told him. "It's not like I'm going anywhere."

Mikey caught the fruit and set them on the table. He spun in the chair and gave her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I know. But I could use the company and thought maybe you could, too."

Karai shifted. She didn't understand why this one was constantly being nice to her. It felt wrong, somehow. Fake. Despite the pit of her stomach telling her it was no act, but truly sincere. She moved to cross her arms, momentarily forgetting she was bound. The chain on her cuff rattled. She glanced at it then back up at him.

"Why don't you uncuff me?"

"Sorry, can't do that."

"Afraid I'd beat you up and escape?" she asked with a soft smirk.

"Well, yeah, I guess, or really, that I'd have to use force on you and maybe accidentally hurt you. Besides that, I'd get in trouble for letting you go."

She rolled her eyes. Hurt me, yeah right.

"Then why don't you just get out of here and give me some space? All right? Go away," she snapped. Then added, "Freak."

He shook his head. His stubbornness riled her frustration. She was tired and irritated, hurt and saddened. She just wanted to go home to her bedroom, sleep in her bed and pretend this was all just a nightmare. She couldn't deal with all the emotions running through her head and heart, mixing everything up into a ball of aggravation. Karai did what she always did when uncomfortable, she lashed out at him. Hoping to drive him away.

"You're not that smart are you?"

The momentary look of hurt was replaced with a self-deprecating shrug and soft smile. "Maybe not as smart as Donnie."

"Let me make this simple so even you can understand it. If you stay in here I'm going to continue insulting you, you stupid creep, and then I'm going to beat you senseless the first chance I get for irritating me."

"It's better than sitting out there all alone."

She sat up, balling her free fist. Maybe if she insulted him enough he'd leave her alone, so she could sort out her emotions and get her head on straight. Or maybe she could get him upset enough to do something stupid that she could use to her advantage to make an escape.

"You really are dumb. Choosing insults over being alone. What's wrong with you? And you reek, you know that?"

Mikey looked to the side then without making it too obvious, but failing miserably, he sniffed towards his armpit. He frowned, thinking. Then his eyes snapped up to her face, sneering at him. He pressed his mouth into a line, puckering his chin a little.

"I think you're just scared."

She snorted. "Of you?" What would it take to get him out of here?

"No." He said as he spun in a slow circle. When he came around again, he added, "Of the truth."

She was taken aback by his astute observation. Then quickly composed herself. She opened her mouth and he cut her off; counting on one hand.

"The fact that your dad isn't who you thought. That he pretty much kicked you to the curb without even blinking. And now you're stuck here. With us . . . freaks. And we're the only thing like family for you left in the whole world. Yeah, I think I'd be scared, too."

He brought both hands to the outside of his thighs and kicked one foot. Karai could only stare at him, infuriated, face flushed, but speechless. He tilted his head and considered her; bright eyes dimmed and glazed with a heavy sadness that pinched her heart more than she wanted to admit.

"I should hate you. I think Raph does. But I just kinda feel bad for you. It must be really hard to lose everything just in one night."

"Fuck you," she spat.

He ducked his head. He looked around the room. She trembled in impotent fury, sure that he'd meant it as a jibe, and yet, something else told her he was being sincere. That his words were meant to be understanding. She ground her teeth. It felt like she was going crazy. She focused her fury and fear on him.

"When I get loose I'm going to gut you."

He turned his eyes to her. "Why?"

"Because I hate you, you stupid, ugly freak!" The last word was a screech. She bounced where she sat. She screamed, "I hate you!"

Mikey, ducking his head, got up and left without another word.

An hour later he returned. He glanced at her wrist, rubbed raw and oozing from her earlier tantrum after he'd fled from the room. He didn't want her to get so upset that she hurt herself and felt bad for not leaving sooner. He set a water bottle down next to her body and retrieved a bottle from one cabinet and a roll of gauze. Her lip curled at him as he turned and hesitated before coming closer. But all the fight had gone out of her system. Karai only felt exhausted now. Confused and scared. The world was upside down and inside out and there was nothing she could do to rail against the circumstances she was abandoned to.

"I'm not gonna hurt you. But that wrist looks bad." He held up the gauze. "This will help."

She narrowed her eyes as he crept closer. But she was kunoichi and she couldn't just give up without a fight. She had to prove that she was dangerous and a foe to be respected and feared. It was all she had left. She swung her right hand in a wide arc, fingers clawed, meaning to rake his face. Mikey deftly caught her wrist and twisted it into a gentle, but firm hold.

"Ah!"

She struggled but Mikey held her fast. She tried to bring her knee up to kick him. He shifted out of the way. Her further attempts were just as useless. He patiently waited until she finally calmed down and stopped writhing and fighting him. He released her wrist and she shook it out with a grimace. Tears blinded her. It was over. Everything she once was. Everything she thought she had to be. What was left for her now? To her dismay, a tear broke loose and trailed down one pale cheek. Michelangelo watched it, then caught it with the edge of his finger. He swept it away and gave her a tremulous smile.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, Karai. None of us want to hurt you. You're Splinter's daughter," his throat caught a little on the word. "And he loves you, so, I'm willing to keep trying."

Then he went to work, falling silent; wrapping her cuffed wrist with the cottony gauze, his touch gentle and careful. When he was done, he remained crouched, chin resting on one forearm. He turned his head and brought the water bottle up, twisted the cap off for her and handed it to her. She took it from him numbly and then drank deeply.

"Figured you'd be thirsty after all that screaming."

She huffed, not looking at him. Ashamed for allowing him to see her weakness, but feeling mostly drained and emptied out.

"D-Do you think he'll hurt Leo?"

Karai's face snapped to look at him, a cruel retort tingling along the edges of her tongue and lips. But when her gaze fell upon the mutant boy's face, it died an instant death. There was no more hurt to give him. She didn't have it in her. She was carved out and hollow. A mere shell. Her father's cruelty and this boy's relentless kindness had worked to undo her spirit. At least, for now. She blinked, dropping her eyes to the bottle in her hand. She shrugged.

"I mean . . . who'd know better, huh?"

She gave him a sidelong glance. "I would have thought no one . . . before." She rested her head against the cold wall. She sighed deeply.

"I'm sorry."

She closed her eyes. "For what? Being annoying?" But her mouth turned up in a slight smile. One he did not return. His face remained serious.

"For what you've been put through. It must hurt." He chewed on his thumbnail. "D-Do you think Leo will forgive Master Splinter?"

Karai turned her head. Frowning, she blinked and slowly, truthfully said, "I don't know him well enough to answer that. I know I will never forgive my . . . fath- master for this. Never."

The man lay sprawled in a broken heap. His dark uniform wrinkled, head turned to the wall at an awkward angle. Donatello sat panting next to Master Splinter. The man had gotten in a few hits before Don managed to break his neck. The worse of which was a slash with a short blade that had hit home. His father checked the gaping wound above his left eye that streamed blood in a curtain down half his face. He pressed a piece of fabric to it and wrapped it around Don's head. He then helped his son to his feet. The unconscious man's companion was braced against the opposite wall by Raphael's forearm shoved against his throat and one sai. The sai pierced through the soldier's shoulder; pinning him securely to the brick wall behind him. The soldier's legs jumped and kicked feebly.

"Okay, bright boy. Let's try this again. Where is my brother?"

The man said nothing, only sputtered between pain-filled gasps. His right arm hung limp and jagged; twisted at an odd angles where it was fractured. Raphael twisted the sai and drove it slowly deeper into the man. He whimpered and choked.

"Th-The Master's chamber," he squealed as the prongs of the sai started to dig into the bruised flesh.

Splinter advanced, with Donatello in tow. "What?" He frowned as fear gripped him. Why would he be there? What would Shredder want with his son in his private chamber? "Where is that?"

"T-Top floor. The suite makes up the entire level. His private chambers c-can't be missed."

Raphael yanked the weapon free and kicked the man as he slumped, knocking him cold. His green eyes flashed up at Splinter. Some icy, slimy slithering fright was worming its way through his stomach. It had started as a tiny coiled knot in the bottom of his gut but only swelled as they infiltrated the building and worked their way through the brightly lit hallways to the detention area. Raph could not shake the growing dread. The fear that they would find his brother - only not alive. He wanted to tear open every barred and closed door that stood between him and his missing brother. And now this.

What did it mean? Why wouldn't Leonardo be here where they keep prisoners? His heart beat a frantic staccato against his rib cage. Thoughts too terrible to fully realize drifted like a fog at the edge of his mind. A scream was building, he could feel it in the front of his chest, climbing up through his tight throat. Even skewering the Foot ninja did little to assuage his mounting rage and strangling panic.

Donatello asked the questions gagging him in silence. "Why would he be there? Why isn't he here?"

Splinter shook his head. "Perhaps, he has been wise and careful and has earned an audience with Shredder. I am sure that he has impressed the Shredder with his skill and calm demeanor."

Raphael pressed his bottom lip hard into his upper lip to keep it from trembling, in anger and fear. He turned, without a word, without daring to give his deepening terror and doubt a voice; leading them towards the stairwell. He couldn't meet Splinter's eyes. He wondered if he's be able to once this was over and Leo was home where he belonged. Where he'd always belonged.

Raphael glanced behind him to see Donatello limping just in front of Splinter who was offering some support. Somehow in the tussle, Don had hurt his leg as well. His left arm ached and he had a wound in his side, but he pushed past the burning pain, determined not to have anything slow him down. His gaze fell on Splinter and he looked away quickly.

His father continued to say things like that about Leo. As if insisting and trying to convince himself that it was up to Leonardo to decide what befell him in the grip of their enemy. As if he could determine his own fate here. That if he was polite enough, stoic and still, courageous and courteous, nothing could go wrong. Nothing bad would happen to him. The very thought was beyond ridiculous. But Raphael knew it was a lie that his father continued to utter if only to brace himself against the awful reality that this wasn't about control and skill. That this was at its heart, about betrayal. Raphael pinched his eyes shut.

It hurt too much to think about it, so he shoved it down. There was nothing that Leo could have done to prepare for this. This nightmare. Raphael was young. But he wasn't stupid. In his tender years, he was already more than a little jaded. It was usually through his brothers' optimistic views of the world that he managed to get from day to day without going crazy. Mikey's simple happiness, Donatello's cool reasoning and honest logic, Leo's determined perspective that nobility and honor could be found, even in the human world. A world that would never see them as anything more than twisted mistakes of nature or god or whatever.

His brothers were too naïve. They were too good. Leo especially, Raph thought with the fierce, protective pride that only a younger brother could hold for his elder sibling. Leonardo was too good for this sickening, ugly world.

Oh Leo, what have they done to you? If even one finger was laid against him, Raph didn't think he could deal with it. Not after what he was sure his brother understood as complete abandonment from his father. How that must have hurt him . . . Raphael's heart constricted painfully. With a growl, he took to the steps with a possessed speed, doubling up as he sprinted up the floors. Every step he took towards finding his brother made his heart gallop harder. With his brother and father bringing up the rear, they raced up the never-ending levels of stairs. Up and up and up still, until they had reached the end and run down a narrow, dimly lit corridor that marked the top floor of the building. They paused to catch their breath just outside the door of the top-most level. This was it. The Shredder's personal suite lay just beyond. Inside, somewhere had to be Leo.

This door was unlike the doors on the lower levels they had passed. Metal doors painted red, opening up to brightly lit hallways, numbered with a steel plate. This was a traditional looking sliding door, paneled with honey colored wood, built right into the wall. Several shelves lined the wall next to it. Stacked there were various domestic items: folded towels of various sizes, linens and other items. Splinter braced a hand on the thin wooden panel and pushed it gently to the side. It made only the slightest whispering as it opened. Peering inside, Splinter could see that they were at the far end of what looked like a master bedroom. It was situated so that whomever was tasked with refreshing the room could simply slip in and out between book cases without any interference or disturbing the Master should he be present.

Holding his breath, he scanned the room from what he could see. The room was dark and furnished with finely crafted furniture. There was an upholstered bench for dressing near a large set of mirrored doors that most likely led to a walk-in closet. There was a desk and two black leather seats situated in front of it. The desk took up most of the room's far wall, behind it was a large window that revealed a stunning view of the city. Paintings of cherry blossoms and mountainsides covered some of the dark paneled walls.

It was still and Splinter's ears strained for any sound that would indicate that they were not alone. His nose sniffed at the air. A slight odor of metal and musk drifted to him but slipped away from him before he could fully identify what exactly it was that he had just smelled. There was no sign of the Shredder. But there was no sign of his son, either. His heart sunk. He turned his face to directly in the center of the room. Between elegant lamps and matching nightstands stood a large four poster bed. He could make out silken fabric hanging from the ceiling that drifting down and connected to the four posts and draped down in luscious folds to the floor.

He blinked, not sure of what he was seeing. There was a form on the bed. Splinter frowned. Narrowed his eyes. It was too small to be the Shredder. His heart stopped. His stomach shrank. His bowels turned to water. It could not be. It could not be.

"No," he whispered. Then, before he could stop the damning words, they spilled from over his numb lips, "Leonardo, what have you done?"

Raphael struggled to see past his father's rigid form gone still as stone. His blood chilled when he heard his father's whispered words. "What do you mean? What did he do?" he hissed.

He and Donatello exchanged frightened, confused glances. Don shook his head, completely lost. He leaned on his bo staff and peered into the room, unable to see past his master's robe. Frustrated and out of patience, Raph pushed past Splinter who continued to stand frozen in place, sais out in both fists. His jaw clenched as his head whipped around looking for any sign of the Shredder or his men. His gaze fell on the bed and continued on, only to snap back and lock on the battered form lying spread-eagle on the top of the soiled coverlet. His arms dropped. His fists shook. He took two steps and his knees gave out. A strangled sound rippled from his throat.

Donatello rushed past him in a limping blur. Only then did he regain enough strength to jump back to his feet. He fell forward and gripped the edge of the mattress for support. His eyes raked over the awful sight before him. His eyes watered and burned. His vision blurred. It couldn't be real. But here he was. They had found him. Oh god, they had found him, but was it too late?

Leo lay, eyes closed on a stained quilt. It seemed as if every inch of his body had been bruised and then sliced to ribbons. His arms were out, his left arm wrapped up and hidden beneath the blanket and his legs lay limp and parted wide. He appeared like a doll that someone had finished playing with and had tossed onto the mattress without a second thought. Without meaning to, Raphael's eyes shot to his brother's groin. His tail and other sensitive private parts lay exposed and mangled. His stomach roiled as sympathetic pain shot through his own loins. He shook and retched, barely able to keep his stomach contents down.

Raphael's voice came out hoarse and too high-pitched, "Leo?" He snapped his face to Donatello who looked pale and sick himself. "Don, is he . . . oh god." He pressed the back of his hand hard to his mouth as the musky scent reached him through the coppery stench of blood. The unmistakable odor of sex hung like a thick malaise over his brother. The implications of what he was seeing . . . what his brother had endured hit him.

"No," he warbled. "Ah, Leo. Ah, no." He started to shake. "Wh-Why would he do this to you?" His fingers curled around the hilts of his sai. "I-I'm gonna skin that filthy bastard alive!" he said through heaving breaths.

Donatello made a choked sound as his fingers flew to the side of Leonardo's neck. At the contact, Leo gave a soft moan. At the sound, Raphael wheeled around. His eyes wild, he looked for any trace of Shredder.

"I'm gonna KILL him!" He screamed and Splinter was on him, covering his mouth. Raph struggled and bucked. Splinter brought him down, locking him quickly into a hold. Raph snarled and Splinter used his inner elbow to muffle him with force. Raph continued to writhe. His entire body trembled and shook with resistance and fury turned inward.

"Raphael, enough. You will kill yourself and your brothers with this outburst. We are in no condition to seek revenge."

Donatello nodded in agreement; half of his face covered in gore. "Let's just . . ." his voice broke off as his eyes traveled over his brother's broken body as if the very sight of the damage stole away his ability to speak. He swallowed roughly. "We have to get him home."

Raphael bucked once more and Splinter released him. Raphael spun on his father. He jabbed his sais into his belt and eyes flashing he snarled in a low voice, "Don't-Don't touch me!"

Splinter flinched as though struck. He dropped his gaze to where Leonardo lay on the bed, then slowly closed his eyes as his heart tumbled and shattered. His son, his child, his beautiful boy. It could not be true. The Shredder could not have defiled him in that way. Not like that. It could not be true. Surely he had only been beaten, sliced up, and nothing more. He could accept that the Shredder had traitorously abused Leonardo despite his assurances that nothing would be done to his son with regards to harming him. But that he himself had delivered his precious boy into the very clutches of an unfathomable evil, had abandoned his child to the twisted appetites of a monster; it was more than his reason could withstand and remain intact. So, instead, he denied what his senses clearly understood.

Raphael turned back to his unconscious brother. Donatello stood fidgeting, clearly trying to determine how best to move Leo without causing him more harm. He looked like he was about to pass out any second. A squeal of a faucet had all three of their heads turning in the direction of a door to the side of the desk then back to Leonardo's body. Raph bared his teeth in a feral snarl, he took several steps towards the sound, reaching for his sai, but Donatello stopped him.

"Wait, Raph. Now's not the time. H-He's hurt bad," he urged. Raphael stopped in his tracks and a tremor went through his body. He stayed like that for a moment longer before he gave a single, sharp nod. He spun on his heel and dashed to the side of the bed.

"We're getting him outta this hellhole. Right now," he ground out under his breath.

Splinter knelt impotent and helpless as Raph moved. Donatello's face darted from the door to Raph and back again. Raphael gathered up the ends of the blanket and wrapped it up and over Leo until his brother's head only poked out of the top. Leonardo struggled weakly against the fabric. He made a mewling sound that froze Raphael in his tracks. He stared at Leo with wide burning eyes. The sound came again and it nearly broke him. With trembling arms, he knelt on the mattress and gathered Leo up in his arms like a baby.

"I've got you, Leo. Hang on."

Then he scooted back off the mattress and rushed past Splinter, heading back where they had come from. Donatello limped to Splinter and helped his master up to stand. They leaned heavily on each other as they fled the room. The chamber where Splinter's worst visions of evil had been played out over his son's innocent flesh over the long terrible hours of the night.

Raphael's feet padded down the narrow hallway. Leo's head bobbed with the motion. He made another broken mewl and Raphael's own agonized whimper covered it. He clenched his jaw as he raced down the stairs, doing his best not to jostle Leo too much. Cursing every time he felt his brother quake or tense in his arms; hating himself for not just coming earlier in the night like he had wanted to; like he had demanded from the minute Splinter had come home with that wretched bitch that he called his daughter.

He nuzzled his cheek hard into the top of his brother's sticky head; murmured thickly over and over between hitching breath; through gritted teeth, "I'm sorry, bro. Oh god, I'm so sorry."

A/N: whoa boy... don't hate me too much. xo