A/N: Gotta give a big shout out to Hotmilkytea on Tumblr (Teawithmilk on here - her stories are amazing! Some of my favs!) for pointing me in the direction of the fabulous song, 'Farewell and Into the Inevitable' from the soundtrack to ME 3. Wow, I replayed that song probably twenty times as I wrote this out. Maybe more. Probably more. Okay, it was closer to 100x's. lol I do that when I write.

I'm honored to mention that this story has been nominated in the Adult FanFiction Awards for Best Supporting Character (Karai) and Best NonCon story. :D Thank you!

Chapter 14

The sliding doors whispered open and closed, likes lies murmured across years, repeated to etch into memory and mind and soul; to reach past into dreams and steal away truths. Origins, loyalty, devotion and love. Was there any truth in all the world that knew no corruption? Were there ever fathers who looked upon their daughters whether of one flesh and blood or not and truly loved them? Fathers who took in lost children and truly made them their own? Forgiving sins of corrupted genetic coding that bore no weight upon the quality of the child's soul? He was not Karai. Child of flesh. Daughter of blood. But was he nothing, then?

Of course, there was Karai. Precious and dear. Lost daughter, brought back from the mist of a long past death. Yet, she was not a prize to be haggled over and traded for. Her worth counterweighed any desire to possess. She was breath and soul and everything light and sharp and vivid. Laughter like rain; bright with chill but exhilarating to the flesh; refreshing to the mind. She was not owned. Could not be a tamed thing. A bird in a cage. A prize on a shelf. Not even if his master wanted to, Leonardo realized this with a start. No. Karai would not be contained, no matter how much the cage was gilded with love. She would run. She was too wild to remain with them.

And in that moment he paused, just inside Splinter's chamber, hesitating as he warred with the sudden need to go check on her. To make sure she remained, even if just for now. That she hadn't left him. He wouldn't force her to stay, but he would ask her. He couldn't be left like this. She understood, didn't she? When she held him last night, when she chased away the nightmare, when her voice soothed and lulled him to a place of rest, of peace. He thought she knew how much he needed her. No. She wouldn't have turned her back on him when he needed her most. Left him behind with nothing.

Leo ran his dry tongue over his bottom lip. But that was not entirely true. His heart, though bruised, understood this. Love remained. Beneath the anger and confusion. Love, truer than he could deny or struggle against, remained. For his brothers, but also . . . for his sensei. His father. He winced at the title and was surprised by his own reaction. Yes. The anger remained.

Though he'd been treated as such, he was not currency. Not so easily thrown away for something of better value. More worth. Wasn't he? And yet here they were. He and Karai. The truth of reality converged to this moment. And everything rigid and unyielding, everything that seemed so right and real in the light of those passing years now wavered and bled to confusion just as the flickering candlelight marred Leonardo's eyesight. What was he to his master? Son? Would a father do this to his son? What about a student? One who was respected and admired? Would a teacher do such a thing to his beloved student? His racing mind wondered and that alone was a source of hurt.

Doubt did not exist in this space before. The color it cast upon his Sensei was one he did not recognize. It changed and disfigured his father's face, his eyes, his poised body. He did not recognize this place that he was stepping into, through and past. It was his father's room, but he had never stepped foot in this space ever before.

He crossed the chamber, like walking through a hazy dream, breath held, lowered himself to kneeling on the tatami mat before Splinter. Shadows, surreal and undulating, writhed along the floor and walls, cast by the many candles lit. His eyes rose and he blinked up at the one before him that was once all and everything. Provider, protector, teacher, hero. His Sensei; his Master; at once closest friend and respected mentor. Never someone to doubt or fear. From the very beginning of all he knew and remembered. Ever only one thing to Leonardo. Father.

Now, Leo could not grasp the image of this person that blurred, reformed and smudged once more in his mind. Was 'father' this? Was father the one who turned away? Who so coldly told the enemy to take him without sparing him a glance? Without sparing a moment to see his fright – when for so long he trusted this person with all of his fears, to chase them away, keep them from hurting him. Who was this person before him now? Father. He wanted to catch that word and all the images it brought, so clear and simple; hold it in his hands, but he only had one now, and he was not used to reaching for things with only one hand. If Splinter was not what he always thought he was, then what did that make him? Was he not, son? Student? Or was he only a past time, a distraction from the tedium, from the ache of missing his true child. Perhaps what Splinter had become, would become, boiled down to one word. All the years reduced and concentrated to this single thought. The question that risked all. A pulse of dying light in a vast world of darkness, momentarily blinding, consumed once again by nothingness. To return again and again until answered.

Why?

Splinter sat on the other side of the low table, crossed legged, reposed and at ease. His head was lowered, eyes hooded, but trained on him. And Leo found his heart thumping, the sound unnaturally loud in his ears. Sitting seiza-style, his heels dug awkwardly into his bottom. His tail was sore from the abuse it took at the Shredder's rough handling. He fidgeted and did his best to get into a comfortable position while still maintaining the required respectful position. Splinter's ear flicked. To Leonardo's mixed relief and trepidation, Splinter started to speak.

"My son, I feel I owe you an explanation."

Leo shifted his left arm, trying to set it onto his thigh, but due to the shortening of it, he found he could not place it as he used to and had to let it hang at his side. The angle made it throb angrily and suddenly he wished he'd thought to have taken some medicine before coming in here. But he did not want to change position. He was doing his best to remain as he always had been, respectful . . . good. The good son. The obedient one. Proper and obedient. No matter what was asked of him. No matter the cost.

"I understand, Sensei," he responded and his voice was low but did not waver. He had nothing rehearsed. He had no time to prepare. What he said came raw and real from his heart, aching though it was. His heart remained what it had always been. Despite the horrors he'd lived through. Those things would not define him or shape him. His spirit would endure. He was determined without choosing. It was simply who and what he was.

Splinter blinked. He waited.

"You had to risk . . . you had to take the risk in order to bring her home. I understand."

Splinter dropped his head. "Yes. But, Leonardo, allow me to explain to you why."

"I do not need you to explain yourself to me. Sensei. I accept your . . ." he needed to take a breath as he found himself growing lightheaded and detached. The words were falling from his lips as though someone else were speaking them. He did not know from where they came. But they did make sense, only, they were not asking him the crucial question. He wondered about his courage and cowardice. He wondered if he was simply trying to stave off the inevitable. The truth.

"I understand." He repeated again, firmly, but this time his throat caught on the end of the last word and he swallowed loudly.

Splinter was at a loss. He huffed a short breath and nodded. He had expected his son to want a full explanation. But he decided to allow Leonardo to lead this conversation. For he knew, it held terrors that would test their relationship. Test their very bond as father and son. He did not want to impede or restrict. He merely wanted an account so he understood what had befallen his child.

"Will you tell me what went wrong?"

Leonardo was nodding before his sensei finished. "I . . . I was . . . I tried to do what you told me, Master Splinter. T-to be obedient. You . . . You said that morning . . . if-if I showed them how h-honorably I could behave . . . then S-Sah . . Sa . . . the Shredder would know the trade was even." His eyes flicked up and then back down again. His hand grew clammy against the flesh of his bare thigh. His opposite arm ached in time with his rapidly beating heart. "But . . . I had to fight him."

Splinter frowned but said nothing.

"They took me to their dojo and the men were there," he said in a halting voice. "The Shredder asked me if . . . if I were the . . . leader." He glanced up. "I said yes. Then, he fought . . . he fought me." Now the words started to pour out of him, quicker and more breathless, "And I could not hold him off. I-I tried, Master Splinter. He was so fast, though. He was everywhere I turned. I couldn't get my bearings, I got confused and missed my targets. I never do in practice. I-I never do." He paused and then, "I wasn't strong enough and . . . I was on the mat . . . He told me that if I could stand, I could live."

Splinter made a small sound as he inhaled. Leo closed his eyes.

His throat worked. "As his . . . p-pet."

At this Splinter was on his feet, standing rigidly before Leonardo. Leo couldn't look up at him, couldn't bear to see the disappointment and fury in his sensei's eyes, for here he knew, he should have refused the Shredder's offer. Humiliating and degrading, yes, but still he'd accepted the offer. At that moment he couldn't chose death for himself, where there was life there was always hope. But he knew that Splinter was disappointed in this choice. He knew that to honor his father, his clan, he should have chosen to be beaten to death. He knew the honorable thing would have been to face his end, no matter how brutal. It was simple. Really. Something he'd fantasized about, standing up to an enemy with dignity and honor, even in the very moment of death; he always thought he would go down like a . . . hero. But when tested, he had learned the terrible truth of his character. He was a coward. He had shamed his entire family when he had climbed to his feet.

His face mottled in blotchy red and green. His right hand was in a fist. He punched his thigh, once. "I stood up," he choked out, breath hitching and shook his head.

Karai crammed the blankets into the top of the ancient washing machine, the off-white enamel dented and scratched. Reaching up, she pulled a bottle of generic laundry soap from a shelf and dumped a capful onto the sheets. She lowered the lid and stepped back. Then she rested her hands on top of the cool surface and blew out a breath.

Karai had heard him call her name this morning. She had clenched her jaw and it had taken all her willpower to not turn around and see what he needed. He sounded so scared and alone. Part of her wanted to immediately roll out of bed and go to him. But she was mad at him. For not taking her offer of escape when they had the chance.

What was he thinking, staying here? She huffed and rolled her eyes as she thought of his brothers. They hadn't done anything wrong, not to her, not really since she'd been here, aside from Raphael and his ape-like behavior, but it wasn't anything she really blamed him for. In fact, she sort of understood that anger. She felt it herself. Anger was something she had her own struggles with. And while she had no siblings of her own, she could almost understand why Leo might have a desire to stay with them. Her mind drifted to Michelangelo. He had been . . . sweet to her. Kind. And even when she was mean to him, he remained gentle. She chewed on her bottom lip, still a little sore from Raphael's attack. But her mind remained on Michelangelo.

When she was a little girl she often wished for siblings. A big sister to look up to . . . a little brother to boss around. Growing up without someone close was something she hadn't realized was missing in her life until she was much older and saw more of the world. Learning slowly that the way she had lived was not the typical and usual, but rather, she had a childhood that was sparse and cold. Exacting and lonely. Empty of so much. The unfairness of life was a smothering thing.

She sighed and ran a hand over her face. When Splinter came in, she had rolled her head over to one side and peered at them from over her shoulder. Leo had looked terrified as he scrambled out from under the cot and stood before his master. Terrified and rattled. Cowed. It made her skin crawl. This was not the boy she sparred with on crisp nights filled with mischief and danger, tinged with that other feeling. That anticipation and excitement. That thrill of catching a glimpse of that sharp focus in his stormy blue eyes when he'd look at her. Or when he'd smile . . . it was better even than when she got him to blush, which was adorable, but no. When he'd smile, it did something to her. And it would last for days afterwards. Days where she felt lighter. Happy. Almost giddy.

And now? Would he ever smile again?

Karai hugged herself. She brought one hand up to cradle her throat. Had the Shredder taken that light from him? Had he crushed it out like a delicate ember flickering in a winter wood? Her arms fell to the sides of her body. She slammed her fists into the machine behind her and spun around. She punched the top of the still machine. Then with a growl, she punched it again.

"You know there's a less violent way to turn it on, right?"

She wheeled around to see the purple one, Donatello, standing in the doorway. His hand was fidgeting with the horizontal belt across his chest, opposite thumb hooked in his belt across his waist. He glanced at her then after hesitating a moment longer, stepped into the room. Karai slid to one side as he leaned over and twisted one knob and then pressed another. The machine instantly jumped and the sound of water rushing filled the space. Don gave her a sidelong glance.

"You probably had servants for this."

Karai swept her eyes away. He wasn't wrong. Shame welled up in her and it made her angry. Who was this mutant to make her feel ashamed of her life with a simple statement and a glance? She decided she didn't like this brother of Leonardo's. With his careful eyes, intelligent and watchful. His voice, soft and engaging until you realize there are sharp edges.

"I guess you'll have to get used to a lot of changes. Now. Not going to be easy for someone like you. To be trapped underground . . . forced to live in squalor among people you hate." He crossed his arms and leaned a hip against the jolting machine. She mirrored his actions, but jutted her chin out.

"I can adapt." She said stubbornly, "I've trained to be kunoichi all my life. I'm nothing but adaptation."

"And deceit?"

Her green eyes flashed up at him. A sneer started across her mouth but Donatello waved her anger away.

"Look, I'm not here to fight with you. That's . . . that's taken care of by my brother, apparently," he mumbled under his breath. "I just want to make something clear. Or rather have something clarified."

She ground her teeth and with some effort, bit back her irk at him. Stiffly, she nodded.

"If you had the chance." Donatello leveled at look at her. "Would you leave? And I mean, disappear? Never come back here?"

Shock hit her and for a second she wondered if he'd over heard her talking to Leo last night. She frowned and gave him a glare. That was no business of his. She didn't like the way he jumped around in his conversation with her. What was he driving at?

"Wouldn't you?" she snapped defensively, hiding the fact that she would only run if Leo accompanied her; hiding the fact that she had thought this over already and had come to realize she really had nowhere to run to after all. That mostly . . . she just wanted to belong. Somewhere. But Karai was good at hiding her feelings. Trained her whole life to have none, or at least, to appear as though she had none. Feelings and emotions were for the weak. And she could not be weak. Not then and not now. She was brittle and cold, she was a shell. Protecting a heart that was just as tender and full of fear as anyone else's.

He shrugged. "I thought so." He looked away and stood straighter. She could see him shaking his head. Then he dropped his shoulders. He turned his head and spoke to the room without looking at her. "He suffered. Horrendously. To get you here. I hope you know that." She knew he meant his brother. Her cheeks colored at his insinuation that she had no idea what the Shredder was capable of. She knew more than he'd ever guess.

"Not that you'd care."

She started and stood still, stung by what he'd just said. Unprepared for what was to come next.

He closed his eyes and gave a soft huff of bitter chuckling. She felt a prickle of stunned offense at the sound of it. "You know, I wouldn't be surprised . . . someone like you. Maybe you think it's funny. A real joke considering his feelings for you."

He moved to leave when her hand shot out, gripped his shoulder and spun him around as she snarled. The slap came at his face but he blocked and turned her hand away. He opened his mouth to remark about her sloppy skills when her left fist hit him square in the jaw. As his head rebounded, she spun and landed a kick to his chest. It wasn't hard, just enough to knock him back a few paces. To shut him up. To give her some space so she didn't do more than that to him. Because right now, she felt like she was going to kill him.

She brought up her shaking finger and pointed at him. Her eyes sparked and danced with outrage. Her voice was a hissing snarl, "Don't you ever say I think what Leo went through was a joke. You . . ." She gritted her teeth, struggling against the string of insults building. She took two steps towards him and Donatello remained where he was, watching her with something like intense scrutiny, listening hard to everything she was saying.

"What kind of monster do you think I am? You think I'm happy about what happened to him?! You think that I find this situation funny?"

Calmly, with his cheek throbbing, he said, "I thought you said you'd run away. That if you had the chance you'd bolt. Back home." He kept his head down and eyes trained on her. Brown but flecked with gold, shining with clever intelligence. Again, his words confusing her, bouncing around. What did one have to do with the other?

Her mouth opened and closed. She tilted her head in annoyance and paced in a small circle. Then slapped her thighs. "I . . . I know I said that. And I still mean it." She very nearly stamped her foot and Donatello caught the body language, fighting the urge to smile at her girlish outburst. It was so unlike the Karai he expected. Well, he expected much more. He just needed to test his hypothesis.

Flustered, she went on, "I just . . . I . . . won't be someone's prisoner. You got that?" She rounded on him. "I won't . . . I will not. I will fight every last one of you if I have to."

"You're not here as a prisoner, Karai." He went on in a quiet voice, "Leo nearly died to bring you home to your actual father. He would do anything for you. He loves you." And whether the pronoun was left ambiguous on purpose or not, Karai was too emotional to pick up on that. Had she paid attention, she would have noticed how very sharply, how very carefully his eyes scanned her face. Had she paid attention, she would have noticed that Donatello may not have been speaking of his father. But of his brother.

Assuming Don meant Splinter, she said, "He shouldn't have done that." Her face lost all its fury, now it paled and she held up her hands and ran them through her hair. "How could he have done that? Leo . . . for me? For me? I'm . . . not worth what happened. God, not what happened to him. Never . . . him."

She became aware suddenly of her vulnerability and opening up to this one and grew angry at herself. How did he do that? One minute she was about to kill him and the next, she was baring her soul to him. But her fury fizzled as a look of surprise and then monumental relief washed over his face.

"Thank goodness," he muttered and rubbed his jaw again. "Thank goodness," he repeated louder, but still to himself.

He looked weary, now, exhausted and spent. As if he'd just been through some lengthy battle and had come out of it alive, but just barely. She did not understand. She could only stare at him uncomprehendingly.

"Because he's going to need you. I had to be sure. I had to know if . . . I mean," he suddenly looked sheepish. "I always suspected. Er, that is, I hoped what he'd been feeling wasn't one-sided. I, uh, sort of know how that feels. It isn't pleasant. But," he rubbed the back of his head and switched gears again. "Maybe things can be mended." He looked towards the door and a shadow passed over his face. "If only . . . Raphael . . ."

Karai shook her head. She was lost. But she wanted to make something clear to him. The point still stuck in her mind of his earlier comment.

"I don't know what you're talking about. But you better never say anything like that again. You understand me? I don't care if you're his brother, I will beat you out of that shell of yours if you ever, ever say that I don't care about Leo or what happened to him again."

He turned to look at her and his face held so much gratitude that her breath caught in her throat. What was that look? It was as if he were seeing something miraculous and wonderful before him, but it was only her; standing in a dirty, dusty make-shift laundry room in her filthy clothes. Hair in tangles. Face flushed and stance defensive.

With a twinkle in his eye he said, "You got it, Karai."

She snapped her mouth shut and nodded. Then, in a huff, she brushed past him and out of the room, feeling shaky and strangely exposed. Anxiety made her chest pinch and she felt as if she had just confessed something secret and personal but she wasn't sure how it happened or why.

The quiet was punctuated by Splinter's heavy breathing as he collected himself and turned his back on Leonardo. The tip of his tail twitched as it slid across the floor behind him. He leaned one hand upon the armrest of a low chair beyond the tatami mats where Leo remained, choking on humiliation, but continuing on with his story.

"They had taken me to a cell and . . . I wasn't in there very long. I may have . . . blacked out. The men came and I was . . . they hit me with a h-hose. I mean, they s-sprayed me down with a hose in a bathroom facility. Showers. I think it was a shower room."

The pulse in his tightened throat was beating so hard that it was getting hard to breathe. Splinter did not look at him and somehow it made the next part both easier and harder for him.

"I thought. I thought it was over, then. They were going to take me back to the cell."

He paused and noticed that he was shivering, remembering the cold of the spray, the way it pushed him against the wall and knocked him over. The men descending on him. His tongue grew heavy and thick in his mouth. As if his body were fighting against him speaking of what happened next. Splinter turned around. His eyes bore down upon him and urged him on. With a rough swallow, he did.

"But they . . . they didn't. They attacked me."

"More fighting," Splinter said and his voice was low. "They could not spare you a moment of peace." Leonardo fell silent and Splinter came a little closer. He gazed down at his son. "You understand it was to test you," he explained. "To fight you that way was to prove that they were not afraid. But they were, Leonardo. They were afraid of you. They saw you fight the Shredder and you impressed them. You must understand that was where these vicious attacks were coming from. From fear. You did well to impress them so."

Leonardo shook his head and could not stop.

"They weren't afraid," he squeezed out with a breath. "Th-They held me down. Th-They," he blinked several times and tears burned like acid down his cool cheeks. He had to say it. He had to say it aloud. He dredged up all the strength he had and forced the words free, speaking quickly, letting the terrible truth spill from him like blood spurting from a wound.

"They raped me. They took turns. They held me down and raped me."

Splinter could not breathe. He could not move. The room grew dark. Black at the edges. The world grew narrow and exact. The universe shrank to one point. This child before him. His son. At one time so strong. Stubborn and even arrogant in his strength of will and unmatched skill. But now. Only this. Frail. Fragile. He was made of glass. Delicate and carved like a diamond. Reflecting all the candle light around him but giving no self-illumination. He was hollowed out. The glass that made up his form, brittle. There were fractures running across the surface and suddenly Splinter could see his son was nothing but lines of fissured glass; held together by an unfathomable tenacity; a force of will bound by a staunch courageousness the likes of which he had never before witnessed. It staggered him. In truth, it frightened him; his son's unbelievable strength.

"I tried to fight them, I did. I tried," he went on, voice tremulous. "The Shredder came in. He . . . He saw that I had bitten one of the men's hands." He ducked his head in shame as though that act had been beneath him. His breath was now nearly panting as he held up his left arm. "I was punished for that."

Splinter could say nothing. He could only stand. On legs made of columns of water. Hands loose and limp at his sides. His emotions churning into a storm of fury and regret. Remorse and guilt melting him from the inside out. How could he have ever thought his son was guilty of anything? This child. This innocent that he has used as a sacrificial lamb to further his own selfish goal. Disguised with noble reasoning, bringing his flesh and blood home where she belonged, he had grievously sinned against one who had none.

"When I woke up I was in a lab and the Kraang had my . . . hand. They took me to the Shredder."

If he was not already numbed by the retelling of his son's trials, he felt the creeping cold, now. It slipped over his body, slithering out from his spine and coating him in an embrace like the chill of death. There was no reparation that could amend this. The cold seeped into his bones.

"He told me that if I were good –" Leo's voice cracked and hitched. "That if I were obedient. He would p-protect me. From the men."

He shook his head and suddenly fell forward, bending low, until his forehead touched the ground. Splinter started. His voice, sounding so young and full of terror rose up and it was a drawn out smack across Splinter's heart.

"M-Master S-Splinter, I th-thought you . . . I thought you weren't . . . weren't. I thought you weren't coming back for me. Haah, ungh, I thought I had to survive. I was . . . I didn't mean to disobey you or . . . or dishonor you. I was . . . I was afraid. And the m-men . . . the men. They would have . . . haah, ungh, kept . . ." His trembling turned to violent shuddering.

Splinter fell on him. He wrapped his arms across and around Leonardo's shell. Splinter rested his cheek against the back of Leonardo's head as he sobbed and gasped into the floor. Speaking wordless sounds of comfort, murmuring soothing words in a mixed language of Japanese and English, Splinter tried to give his son comfort. But Leo shifted and pulled away from his embrace. He yanked and jerked free. He crawled to the side using his elbow and thigh.

Shouting, between gasps he went on, his face a mask of sorrow and humiliation, "I called him father. He made me. He made me, but I could've . . . I should not have . . . I should have fought him. I should have died."

"No! No, Leonardo! No!"

Splinter crawled after him and with clumsy effort tried to gather him into his arms but Leonardo turned around and kicked at him. They struggled and wrestled, clambered against the floor and each other, backwards and to the side until Leo's shell hit the wall. Splinter lumbered on top of him and took him by the shoulders. Leo turned his tear-streaked face away.

Voice hoarse and breaking, he whispered, "He had me. And he made me do things. He did things to me. He promised to stop if I called him father." His voice grew stronger, filled with disgust, "I did. He . . . He lied. He lied. He's a liar, Master Splinter. He's a liar."

His eyes, glassy and huge, snapped to meet Master Splinter's sorrowful gaze. His face contorted with rage. He snarled, "Why? Why, Master Splinter? Why did you leave me to him? Didn't you know? Didn't you care what was going to happen to me? I thought . . . I thought I was your son! I thought you loved me!"

Splinter shook his head, choking on his sobbing, trying to deny, to speak soothingly, the words a jumbled mix of languages and moaning pleas. Through Leonardo's tears, through the fog of hurt, anger sparked and ignited. He clenched his jaws. Leonardo shoved roughly at Splinter's reaching hands. Kicked at him, now growling and bucking, trying to get away from him; but the wall was at his back.

"Get away from me!"

"Musuko. Watashi no amai musuko. I did not know. Gomen'nasai, I did not think he was the monster that he is. I am sorry, my musuko. I did not know. Watashi wa anata o shippai shite iru. I did not know."

"But you should have! You . . . You should have!" He growled and tried to fight, but Splinter blocked his sloppy attempts to strike him. His left arm flailed and his heels dug into the floor as Splinter straddled him, but kept his weight off him. Splinter reached down and pulled him up to his chest, still struggling, still choking and crying; still straining against his arms. Leo fought in a panic now. His voice rose several octaves as he screamed, "N-No! No! Don't! Let go! Let go!"

"Watashi o yurushite. Musuko. My son. Forgive me!"

He thrashed and pulled at Splinter's robe and fur. He screamed and writhed in his arms. He twisted his face back and away. Splinter closed his eyes and held him, taking the fury and pain, drawing it out of his son. Doing his best to help him purge this anguish from his soul.

"I . . . hate you! I hate you!"

Splinter held him tighter, pressing his son's broken body to his, both of them shuddering in grief and regret; sorrow and helplessness. He held him and held him, refusing to release his child. Leo quaked in Splinter's embrace and soon fell still, collapsing in his father's embrace with great gasping, strangled sobs. And Splinter felt the fractures shattering.

Stepping out into the hallway, from the laundry room Karai felt overheated and flustered. No one was around, but she felt skittish and jumpy. She didn't want to sit in a room and wait for one of them to come nosing around and confusing her more. Instead of turning back towards the infirmary, she turned left and headed down a narrow passageway, to an arched back door. She twisted the crescent shaped handle and pushed, it came open with little effort and no sound and fresh air hit her. As fresh as the air could get down here, underground.

She eased out into the low lit passageway and allowed the door to close behind her. She was outside of the lair, she realized with a giddy surge of unexpected excitement. Suddenly a feeling of urgent opportunity struck her. It started as a twitching, itchy sense in the pit of her stomach and rose up her spine and down the back of her legs. She had to get away. She had to run. She needed to. She bounced on her toes and then twisted and skipped into a stumbling run.

Karai dashed through the tunnel. Ducking where the ceiling came in too low. Standing straight when there was room. Faster and faster, pumping her legs and arms, turning with the passageway as it sloped left then right. Feet splashing through filthy puddles and dusty concrete, aged to nearly gravel beneath her heels. She ran until she tripped over an uneven patch and fell sprawling forward, scraping her palms and tearing the knees out of her thin pants.

She lay there, panting, face down in the soil, in the dark. Drinking in the damp musty air, but air laced with freedom, nonetheless. Then she brought her arms up over her head and started to laugh. A broken, breathless chuckle. What was she doing? She couldn't leave. She had nowhere to go. But more than that . . . she couldn't leave him. It felt as though she'd left a part of herself behind back there. An important, crucial part of her. And she was not able to abandon that so easily. But the thought at once struck her as ridiculous.

What was she thinking? Leonardo didn't want her. She was the Shredder's daughter. The idea of that now was so repulsive to her that she had to swallow back the bitter bile that rose up. No. She was kidding herself. He didn't want her. Not after what happened to him. How could he ever look at her and not think of it? There was no chance in hell. None. If he ever had any feelings for her, it was over. Surely. The Shredder had killed any chance of . . . what? What was she thinking? Romance? Really? Despair weighed her heart down. Everything good was gone. Everything she thought she understood was upside down. Everything was insane.

She had to leave. She couldn't stay with them. But . . . her heart hurt at the thought of never seeing Leonardo again. Yet, she didn't want to be the source of more pain. It was madness. She was going mad with indecision. She lay there for a while longer, pulling at her hair, struggling with herself. Until, slowly, she gathered herself up and sat on her legs, head lowered.

"What am I going to do?" she murmured to herself.

"I'll tell ya what you're gonna do." The familiar voice came out of the shadows, dripping with menace. Low and even and controlled. But rage danced behind the veil of that calm tone. "You're gonna pay for what was done to my brother."

Karai's head snapped up in time to see a pair of blazing green eyes behind a red mask before a blow to her face turned the world into a blinding flash of pain.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it was quite a doozy to write. I nearly published it too soon, but I'm glad I waited, I ended up added two more pages of text here and there as I expanded some of the scenes. I sure would like to know what you thought!

Musuko – my son.

Watashi no amai musuko – my sweet son

Gomen'nasai – I'm sorry

Watashi wa anata o shippai shite iru – I have failed you.

Watashi o yurushite – forgive me

Please excuse if any of these are not accurate, I did my best to research these terms and present them correctly. Be sure to swing over to stealthystories for more TMNT fandom fun! Such amazing authors as Terraform (Hidden Light and Hidden Light 2), TheincredibledancingBetty (My Friend Al, The Hangover TMNT Edition), Novus Ordo Seclorum (Gypsy, Hallmark Holiday), Alex Hamato (Never Have I Ever, Turtle Soup) and many more hang out there and post in the games forums and author forums and such. This is also the hosting site of both the regular Fanfiction awards and the Adult FanFiction Awards!

Thank you for reading!