Note: Thanks so much for your patience! I have another chapter coming much faster after this one. I think I warned everyone that I'm a perfectionist at times, and this one was really tough for me. Next chapter we'll explore a bit more of their past, so bear with me, this is a bit of a set up. Thanks for reading!
Ch. 5
Johanna smiled at Donatello, who ate the runny eggs without complaint. She gave an inward sigh, knowing she was an awful cook, but loving that he could work with that. His large brown eyes were focused on his food, trying hard not to show his disgust.
"How are the eggs?" she smiled, sipping her coffee.
"Great," he said with a grimace, and she laughed outright.
She stood quickly and passed him a box of cereal, which he took with a sigh.
"I'm sorry," she chuckled as he sighed with relief. "I'll leave the cooking to you."
"I'll teach you," he said, fetching a bowl and milk.
She smiled contentedly. Watching the turtle work in the sunlight was a rare treat. Usually, he wasn't comfortable enough to do it, even when he knew they were alone. Growing up in the darkness and shadows had a lasting effect on all of them.
"What?" he said, pausing with the bowl in hand.
"You look so handsome in the sunlight," she said, giving a knowing glance.
He smiled, setting down the bowl and flexing a muscle.
"How about these?" he said, turning the shoulders she held so dear into the light.
"Oh yes," she laughed, sipping her coffee.
"And this?" he said, letting the sun hit his shell.
"Mhm," she nodded.
Donatello put his hands on either side of her chair, leaning over her small form. Johanna's heart rate sped up. She loved it when he did things so dominant, so masculine and confident. Of course, she couldn't let him know that—it would set a bad precedent. He knew, though, by the racing of her pulse and the smell around her.
Johanna looked up, wide gray eyes full of sparkling mischief as he reached over, pressing his lips to her throat. She shivered as his hands gripped the chair, making it creak in the silence.
"Thanks for the cereal," he teased, stepping back to the table and pouring it in the bowl.
Johanna was breathing hard.
"Do you have any idea what that does to me?" she gulped.
"No," he smiled knowingly. "Tell me."
Johanna flung herself from the chair, jumping on him like a wild monkey and tackling him to the ground.
"Gah!" he said as they tumbled to the ground, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist.
The cereal box fell over, spilling Chex on the floor as the bowl clattered with it.
"Johanna!" he yelped, spinning her over as his fighting instincts kicked in, and he pinned her to the floor.
She laughed, staring up at him from the cool tile.
"You have cereal in your hair," he said, furrowing his brow.
Johanna rolled her eyes and grasped his carapace, pulling him down into a kiss. He pulled away, his eyes full of concern. Her smile faltered, seeing the seriousness in his face.
"I mean… there's a lot in there," he said, and her body shook with laughter beneath him.
Johanna had been laughing for so long tears filled her eyes, and she laughed through his kisses as he picked out the cereal bits. He made little noises of disapproval, unwilling to let her go just yet.
"I love you," she said suddenly, and he froze, turning to meet her eyes.
There was a long, awkward pause as Donatello studied her face. Was she serious?
"Sorry," she said awkwardly. "That… was probably too soon… and…"
"I've loved you the moment we got out of that awful place—it was only verified the first time I saw you smile. I can't quantify it; I can only tell you that the depth of my love is what makes me ache when you're away. You're the last thing I see when I close my eyes at night, the first thing I think of in the morning. I hold you more dear than the waking world."
She was too stunned to respond in kind, to come up with the words that could sound as beautiful.
"Pfft," she said, brushing crumbs from his mask. "It's… practically what I said…"
Don rolled his eyes with a half smile, picking bits of cereal from her hair as the sunlight reflected off the sugar crystals. Johanna smiled, kissing his lips softly, slowly, as cereal fell from her hair and rattled on the ground.
"I'm so glad we came up here," she sighed, letting her head crunch the cereal as she lay back.
"You seemed like you were under a lot of stress."
"The committee—they want results and they want them now; I've got a prototype, but… so much more testing is needed."
"May I see it?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.
"It's not what we planned on, exactly," she said, looking away. Johanna hated keeping secrets from Don. "It's meant for a human host. To repair damage and rebuild things broken within the human body. It's wonderful… it's just… that I have some reservations."
Don's eyes searched her face, tempted to end this talk and take her right there on the floor.
"Reservations?" he asked instead.
"If it can rebuild, couldn't it expand? It's a computer, all those tiny bots, and what's to stop it once it's within the host? What if someone makes a weapon of it? It's quantum computing on the most advanced level, split into individual bots working as one. I simply don't know what it's capable of. It could be incredibly dangerous."
Johanna felt relieved to give him a little insight; the weight on her chest was lifted a little, though she hadn't told him the whole truth. The truth that she suspected a human trial would come far too soon. Another life was something she couldn't have on her conscience—not after what she'd done in that awful place.
"Then stop," he said simply.
She sighed. "It's a chance at redemption… I hurt so many people, Don, and—"
"You didn't know then."
"Didn't I?" said her quiet voice after a pause. "All those samples, the bits of flesh… The tissue was still alive, Don."
"You stopped, when you found out. You saved my life, Johanna," he said, and she bit her lip.
"I'll make it safe," she said vehemently.
"That reminds me," he said, rubbing her jaw. "Where'd you go last night? It's not like you to be late."
"I had to run by campus, remember? I wanted to double check everything, make sure I'd locked up the lab. Got a spider bite to prove it," she chuckled and patted her leg.
Again, Don thought, a half truth. Johanna looked far away.
"Doctor," the man greeted, sitting up in the stiff leather chair behind her desk.
Johanna had bristled at the implication.
"Mr. Saki," she said, swallowing hard.
Something about that man gave her the creeps; he was devastatingly handsome, a middle aged Japanese man with perfect features. The long scar on the left side of his face fit in perfectly, as if he'd look disfigured without it. His dark eyes gleamed as his long fingers fiddled with a pencil on her desk.
"Are my machines ready?" he asked, folding his hands neatly on the leather desk planner.
"Nearly," she replied with a confidence she hardly felt.
"I see," he said, looking down.
Shining black hair immaculately combed was all she could see for a moment, then those dark eyes focused on her once more. Something sharp pinched her leg, and she swatted at a small black object that scuttled away.
"Are you alright?" he said blandly—he really didn't care. If anything, he looked bored.
"Yeah, just… stupid spiders in here," she said. "They will be ready in a few months, and—"
"That is past the deadline," he said coolly.
"We agreed on January 1st—"
"Things have changed, I'm afraid," he replied swiftly, standing and walking slowly toward her.
His hands were in his pockets as he towered over her.
"I will have them in two weeks—with or without a successful human trial. Understood?"
She studied him for a moment, too afraid to ask what he would do to her if she refused. Beautiful and cold, she thought, like a snake. The lifeless dark eyes glared at her a moment longer before a smile came to his face—one that didn't reach those eyes—and he walked swiftly out.
Donatello swallowed hard and stood, shaking the crumbs off his chest as he helped her up. The moment was gone, but not lost as she pulled herself back to the room, in the company of her love. If anything Johanna felt closer to him now; in just a few moments so much had been cleared between them: her research, their love. She grinned, shaking the cereal from her hair as he reached for the broom.
Johanna smiled, watching the giant turtle deftly sweep up the mess. Marveling in the sheer impossibility of such a moment, Johanna was frozen in place. She could feel the blood rushing through her veins, even hear it in her ears. Then the room tilted.
"Not… right…" she said suddenly, as an ache started in her chest.
Was it her fast beating heart, stunned by the sight before her? Johanna coughed, pulling back the hand covering her mouth to see bright red blood on her palm.
"D-Don—" she coughed as the sunlight dimmed.
"Johanna?" he said softly, confused.
She hit the floor hard, unable to reach out or stop it. Don was too stunned to catch her, but did stop her head from hitting the ground. He saw the blood on her hand and tossed the broom aside, checking her pulse and dialing 911.
His heart sank as he lifted her barely breathing body; she was having convulsions, he realized. The root of the cause unknown—was it a blood clot? Had she complained of leg pains, or anything… Donatello searched his memory as he checked her over, listening to her groans of protest while she tried to talk to the emergency operator. Just a spider bite, but that's not enough to do this. It would have had to infect her blood first, then—
The lights flashed in the driveway. He couldn't go with her—couldn't be seen. The limitations of their relationship were revealed yet again. If he was human, he could ride in the ambulance. He could stay and speak with the EMT, and the doctors… but no. He was a freak. Something no one could understand, so he was limited to the shadows, impotent by his horrid mutation.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, kissing her scalp before slipping into the darkness of the next room.
Moments later the EMT knocked twice then rushed inside, taking in the scene quickly before turning her on her side and clearing her airway of blood and mucus. Donatello breathed hard, unable to calm the panic in his chest. What happened? Moments before she was happy, healthy, young and vibrant. Now her legs kicked out as her body fought for oxygen. They had to strap her to the gurney, forcing an oxygen mask over her face and rushing out the door. The police would be here soon, he thought, or her sister.
Donatello leaned against the wall and let his legs give out as he slid to the floor and fought the tears. He was over the shock, almost, and needed to get out of there. A glance at the clock told him he'd sat there for twenty minutes, running through the medical possibilities in his brain over and over again, then once more. The likeliness of survival was 70%, though she was white and had a higher chance of fatality. Fatality…
He pushed the thought away as he stood. This wasn't how he was going to lose her. It couldn't be. He'd planned on old age, knowing he and his brothers would outlive everyone they knew. But this… this he couldn't accept. With reluctance, he called April to ask for a ride. A walk would have cleared his mind, but he needed April to get in there immediately and ask everything he couldn't.
While he waited in the woods behind the house, just off the highway, he wrote specific questions on a scrap piece of paper and sighed when April squealed to a halt at the GPS coordinates he gave her. She didn't say a word when he jumped in the back of the van, but put her hand on his shoulder and gave a soft smile.
They rode in silence, Donatello sitting in the back staring at his feet. Something hit the ground and he glanced over, pulled from his trance to see a piece of cereal between his feet.
1 'Hunger of the Pines' by Alt J
Theo was running hard, arms swaying as her legs thrust forward, pushing the wind against her cheeks. The trees darted beside her as she swiveled between them. The sunlight added a cruel cheerfulness as bullets splintered the pines around her.
Sleeplessly embracing
Butterflies and needles line my seamed-up join,
encased in case I need it…
In my stomach, for my heart, Chain mail
Hunger of the pine
Hunger of the pine
She pressed her lips in a firm line; mentally ordering her large black wings to protect her head, back and around her shoulders. They couldn't withstand heavy gunfire, but… neither could her brain or heart. She just needed to reach the bluffs. From there she could fly away, get away… Faster Theo, run. RUN!
A scream tore from her throat as something white hot grazed her leg, making her stumble as the blood trickled down her calf. She felt weak already; I have to make it. But so… tired. Theo could hear the waves crashing on the bluffs and pressed forward, stumbling through the leaves as she heard footfalls and shouting behind her. The men's trouser pants were loose on her small frame and threatened to catch on the jagged rocks. There was no feeling left in her leg as she hit the ground and began clawing her way through the mud and bark toward the rocky cliffs.
Sleeplessly embracing
Yawn yearns into me
Plenty more tears in the sea
And so you finally use it
Bedding with me you see at night
Your heart wears knight armor
Hunger of the Pine
Numb from the hips down now, she chanced a glance at the wound and choked a sob. It wasn't a bullet, but a dart that just finished leaking a blue liquid into her thigh. A whimper escaped her throat as soldiers approached, reaching down for her.
Theo watched their hands, as if in slow motion, until her eyes relaxed to stare at the sun against the blue Fae sky. She'd escaped; she'd done it. Now they would take her back, continue their coercion, their cruel treatment of what was left of her body.
"Help," she barely breathed, and met the eyes of the soldier above her.
They were oddly warm, dark blue with flecks of gold in the irises. His mouth moved but she couldn't hear him—she was drifting now, slipping in and out of consciousness. His hair was too long for an enlisted soldier—he was hired, she thought, then felt cold steel wrap around her waist as he lifted her easily, tossing her on a shoulder. The way he smelled was familiar, but she couldn't quite place it—something from years ago, when she lived in a white house and swam in the sea…
In a strange, familiar motion, he brushed the hair from her face and adjusted her body firmly but knowingly, making it easier for her to breathe against his shoulder. He was warm, she thought as her body shivered in the winter air. The threadbare pants and altered blouse were the only clothes they gave her; no shoes, no jacket.
He tugged a blanket over her body, swaddling her as he walked the direction she dreaded most—back to the compound. Her legs swayed against his chest as his steady strides tightened the coil of fear in her stomach. There had been an attack—where were the heroes? The men to save them?
Sleeplessly, embracing you…
Realization grew on me as quickly as it takes your hand to warm the cool side of the pillow,
I'm there for you, be there for me,
I'll hum the song the soldiers sing as they march outside our window
Hunger of the Pine
He looked over at her, his lips so close to her face that she could feel his steady breathing. The light was fading, and she felt her heartbeat slow as her eyes slid shut. The cold, the pain, the fear, faded away.