A/N: This is an extra chapter to celebrate my writing the END of Distance. Now, I still have five (and a partial) chapters to hash out. But otherwise, BOOM, BABY!

Sciencegal - Details, details. It's the principle that matters. ;D

tentenbaby - Why thank you.

D - You're back! Thank you, thank you. So much work has been involved. Here's to hoping it pays off. Glad to hear my stories and characters are still of interest to you. :)

Ducky (Guest Version lol) - If all the threads materialized, I'm sure they would be the sort of web of Raph's spidery nightmares. (Also, DOWN WITH DONALD!)

CHAPTER 13: ROLES

It felt as if every nerve running through Xander's body had fallen asleep at once. He could hardly stand, let alone hike the trail back to Base Camp, and his bad leg left him with little choice except to seek help from the two agents further ahead.

"Quincy, Beverly," the Hispanic said through gritted teeth. His comrades needed no further explanation. Both turned, retracing their steps along the dirt pathway so they could support Xander on each side.

"That's still some crazy shit," Quincy said. He half-smirked, although his eyes widened. "I felt sick just sitting on the outside. Wh—what's it like? Any better?"

Xander scrunched his nose. "No. If anything, it's worse."

"But your tolerance has built up," Beverly added. "Before, you could stay inside maybe ten or twenty minutes. Now—"

"I can search for up to two hours." Xander snorted. "Lucky me."

"The fact that you can stand it at all is…" Head shaking, Quincy resituated Xander's arm across his shoulders. "There's still no answer for why?"

'Why?' was a question Xander would rather avoid. He had suspicions, sensations, like forgotten truths buried in his childhood. But he always ignored them, regardless of how relentlessly the Barrier pried at his mind. He focused on his burning pain instead, sighing.

"You're lucky Rook hasn't shipped your ass off to The Island," said Quincy. It was hard to tell if he meant that as a joke or honestly. "The first fool not to turn into a vegetable after full exposure. Sounds almost supernatural."

"It's not," Xander cut in. "I just take my vitamins."

"Or something else." Beverly met the men's stares, her grip on Xander's wrist reminding him that, if she felt a need, she could snap his arm in half.

"I ain't taking shit, Chiflada," Xander said. "Except vitamins."

Beverly's brown eyes narrowed. "Were that true, I could walk the Barrier."

"Aw, jealous, Bevy?" Quincy smiled, but the woman's evident envy was no laughing matter. Xander nudged a knee towards the dark-skinned man as a warning.

"Do you know what I could accomplish behind enemy lines?" asked Beverly, cool. "The damage I could cause? The progress I could make?"

"Right," Quincy drawled, "and revenge would be a side plus. Eh?"

The woman sneered. "This ability is wasted on Hyde."

"You think I enjoy this role?" Xander asked. "Being Rook's new best friend? Believe me, I'd trade places in a heartbeat. Anything to get me home, out of this—" The Hispanic swallowed and felt his legs quiver. "I need a better lead. The sooner we find those natives, the sooner Rook and Bishop get what they want."

"Think you'll be cut loose after you find them?" Quincy questioned while looking ahead. "What you're capable of is worth investigating. Even I see that."

Xander flashed a bitter smile. If only they knew…

"Huitzi," Izel called.

Huitzilopochtli faced the blue-lipped skinhead, watching as she sat beside him and Leonardo in the Library.

"Sorry," she said in English. "Do I cause trouble?"

Huitzi shared a look with Leonardo. Even the turtle-man understood that, in reality, the young woman felt unashamed.

"I have gift," Izel continued. She reached into a pouch on her breechcloth then pulled out a piece of wood that had been carved into a laughing Ozomahtli. "It can replace the lost one."

"I"—Huitzi accepted the totem—"tlazocamati."

"Tie it tighter to your staff," the skinhead added in Nahuatl. "Who knows what might find them?"

She meant the Yoaqui, and Huitzi grimaced, reaching for his walking staff.

As he fastened the totem where the old one had once been, Leonardo asked, "Is that a monkey?"

"Ozomahtli, yes," answered Huitzi in English. "Symbolize joy."

"But why? I mean, what is it for?"

"It is Eiehuia," Izel said, also in English. "That is 'eh-eye-eh-wee-ah.' They are, uh…" Her bright eyes fell on Huitzi.

"Talismans," he finished. "Once they were charms for old gods. Now they are fortunes, reminders, prayers. They are named for the phrase 'to wish.'"

"They less important since K'ekchi worship Ometeotl," Izel said, leaning back and crossing her legs.

"If that's true, why…?" Leonardo glanced from Izel to Huitzi to Izel again.

The skinhead flashed a wry grin. "As Calpocatl, I craft one statue during Moon Cycle. Eiehuia are easy."

"It is minimal effort," Huitzi said through pressed lips. Still, he fought a smile as he studied the many totems dangling from his staff's head. Each one was important, from Blessing and Strong Health to Future and Laughter. They were personal, reflected his life struggles, and he could not fault Izel for her hidden hope.

"I recognize some of those from the Medicine Woman's staff," Leonardo said.

Izel curled up a leg. "She has many. Maybe all."

"You would know," Huitzi told her.

Izel scrunched her face, and Leonardo shifted on his straw mat, saying, "I've meant to ask. Izel, are you and the Medicine Woman related?"

"Why think that?" countered Izel.

"Are you?"

"I am." Izel's attention lingered on Huitzi, perhaps unwillingly asking for permission to continue. When the man nodded, her composure eased. "She is Citli, my grandmother."

"Yet you call her by a title."

"K'ekchi tradition. We call everyone by proper names."

"Even parents?"

The young woman flinched—a subtle act evident only in her fingers. "Quema."

"It is respectable," Leonardo all but muttered. How odd; few outsiders would realize that.

"Coyo hates it," said Izel with a shrug. "As do I."

"Yet you listen," Huitzi interjected. "Mostly."

"Back home I'd"—Leonardo struggled for words—"I'd call my father 'Sensei.' It means 'mentor.' But sometimes I can't help calling him 'Otōsan,' Father. Sometimes you just feel…"

The turtle-man trailed off with parted lips. He looked forward, although his gaze was vacant, his hands loose in his lap. Something unseen brought him back to reality in seconds and he hid his mouth when he whispered into his shoulder. What was happening in the creature's troubled mind?

"We are not very different," Izel said. "Make it easier, yes? We know April O'Neil is Leo's family. Why not say more?"

"Without Coyo?" asked Huitzilopochtli. He could just imagine his little sister's rant and the headache that would follow.

"She is with Tonalquizca," Izel whined. "Who know how long Tlaloc keep her?"

"Tlaloc," Leonardo spoke the warrior's name with furrowed eye ridges, "he doesn't like my being here, does he?"

"Tlaloc is—"

Huitzi cut off Izel, "Frustrated. He is son to Yaolt, Tonalquizca leader. He bears the burden of leading future warriors, of protection. Coyo should help him more often."

"Coyo hunts," Izel said. "Provides. What Tlaloc asks is as dangerous as walking Teo to Xelihuiyan borders."

"Izel!" Huitzi's attention found the skinhead as sharp and straight as an arrow.

She understood her mistake, and looked away, licking her blue lips as Leo asked, "Teh-oh?"

"Every K'ekchi plays a role," continued Huitzi. "Some are artists. Some are warriors. And one guides them all. Or should."

Izel stomped a foot against the wood floor, her anklets jingling. "Not everyone is happy with their roles."

"Then what would you be, Izel?" Huitzi cocked his head, but the young woman avoided his gaze.

"That's a good question," Leonardo said after a silent moment. "If you don't fit the role you were meant for, if you only fail at it and had a choice to be anything else…what would you be?"

Did the turtle-man speak to his company or himself? He grew still and stared at his three-fingered hands, attention once again slipping.

Huitzi shook his staff in an attempt to break Leonardo's self-induced spell. "I believe we should respect our roles. They were not given thoughtlessly, and despite personal faults, we are obligated to fulfill them."

"Even if you're miserable?" whispered Leonardo. His brown eyes were disquieting, distraught. And Huitzi lacked an answer under their pain. His hesitation made Izel sigh and the turtle-man frown as if disappointed on a spiritual level. Was he?

"Even if we hate our roles," started Izel, "there is good in them. I enjoy gifts. And Huitzi teach children although he can never—" The young woman stopped herself short with another sigh.

"My time to help Coyo is limited," Huitzi confirmed. Admitting the reality out loud put pressure on his chest. "I wish she would accept that."

"Awk!" a Cochotl's screech filled the Library. "Ti-oh-tah-kee! Ti-oh-tah-kee!"

Izel laughed when Yolotli dove from the rafters, speaking native greetings as his wings beat air across the group's heads, "Afternoon too, Yo! Is Coyo here?"

Yo squawked again then landed on Leonardo's bald skull. The turtle-man waved his arms to rid himself of the animal's talons, yet Yo always returned to his perch.

"Yo like Leo," Izel told the turtle-man in English.

"He could stand to like me less," Leonardo replied.

Huitzi shook his head, powerless against a smile. "Would be much worse, Cuamahui. Cochotl is protective, loyal. He has one bondmate and few are permitted near that bondmate."

"Last man Yo did not like," Izel said, "he was, uh, hurt. Bleeding."

"Yo maimed his neck," Huitzi explained further. "Now his head cannot turn"—what was the English word?—"left."

Izel scoffed. "Talaloc's fault. He yelled."

"Tlaloc would never harm Coyo," said Huitzi in Nahuatl. "That day was hard for everyone. You remember."

The skinhead fell silent as footfalls climbed the Library steps.

Coyolxauhqui parted the curtained doorway then sent Yo a pointed look. "Where you go?" she asked the animal her native tongue. Yo's bright feathers ruffled and Leonardo cringed as his talons shifted. "You child! You no wait?"

"Was he exiled from the meeting?" questioned Izel.

"A distraction, they say," answered Coyo while crossing her arms. "But he warrior too, a scout. He save lives!"

"Mostly yours. Others?" Izel shrugged halfheartedly.

"False. True, Yo?" Yolotli squawked at his bondmate, wings spreading like sun rays against the blue sky. "See? He agree."

"Should we ask Tlaloc?"

Coyo made a face, but before she continued the argument, Huitzi spoke up, "Izel, Coyo, what rule did we set for the Library?"

The young women puckered their lips. Then, they both looked at Leonardo, apologizing in English at the same time. The turtle-man waved a three-fingered hand. Maybe after so many times, he had learned to accept the lapses into Nahuatl.

"How did the meeting go, Coyo?" asked Izel. Leonardo's gaze found the Chieftain as well.

"Talk of meeting later," answered Coyo.

"Coyo," Huitzi started.

The young woman spun towards her brother, curly hair bouncing. "Please?"

Curse her big eyes; they always made the man feel weak. "As you wish," he said. "If the issues are that involved, you will have time to speak of them with Izel and I while she prepares for Xochicuicatl."

The skinhead groaned then lay back on the floor.

"Show-chee—" Leonardo stopped with scrunched features.

"Show-chee-kwee-cal," Huitzi corrected.

"I've heard that name before. Several times."

"It means Flower Song Day. It is our most celebrated holiday of Dry Season. For many K'ekchi it renews hope. For others…" The pressure on the man's chest grew tenfold, and he licked his cracked lips so their sting would keep him centered.

"When is it?" asked Leonardo, although he sounded less interested than he looked.

"Two new moons," answered Coyo.

"Mid-August, according to your calendar," Huitzi added.

"It's almost August?" Leonardo's question left him in a whisper. The turtle man's face paled, and his vacant stare returned.

"Leo in rainforest a long time?" Coyo questioned. But Leonardo would not answer. He hid behind his hands and Yo's stretched wing.

"He live here one moon cycle," said Izel from the floor. "Why not another? Or two?"

Huitzi shook his head. "That choice is Leonardo's. His body has healed miraculously, whether you"—the man glanced at the turtle-man—"admit it or not. Soon, you will recover. Where will you go?"

"Go?" Coyo kneeled beside Leonardo so suddenly, Yo fled when the turtle-man jerked backward. "Leo no leave. Leo can stay. Leo stay, yes?"

"Leonardo had a life before us," said Huitzi in Nahuatl.

The Chieftain sent him a look, replying in kind, "How can Teachcauh be certain? Leo has not spoken of his life. What if he has none? Never did? Or what if they are gone? What if Leo is more like the Teo than you think?"

The man held his tongue just long enough to temper his anger. "The Ayotl has admitted to a sister and father. So he has some family, at least. If he returns to them that is his choice."

Huitzi was right; Coyo knew it. She sighed, apologizing to the turtle-man yet again, then stood. Yolotli landed on her shoulder after she backpedaled and he nuzzled her neck with fervor. She smiled at the Cochotl, stroking his crest feathers.

"Leo need not worry," Izel said while joining her best friend. "We no need answer soon. Yes?" The siblings nodded, and the skinhead ran her fingers through Yo's wings as she addressed the turtle-man. "Want to walk again? Get fresh air? Maybe finish tour?"

Huitzilopochtli expected Leonardo to decline. He had socialized for hours already, an impressive feat for one who had spent most days watching from a window. The man stood with the intent of ushering the young women from the Library. But Leonardo followed suit, almost smiling.

"Actually," he said, "I'd like that."

A/N: Trouble's a brewin'. But Leo's making progress as well, so. ;D