I don't own the TMNT

A/N: This chapter is a bit broken up, but mostly to change scenes and thought patterns. Please enjoy!

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The following two weeks were like nothing else before. So immaculate, so joyful. I couldn't believe it, we were like a finely tuned machine, with sprockets precision cut to fit like a glove. We developed a rhythm, one that was more that I could imagine it would be.

I made my allowances towards her. After all, when two people love each other, that's what they do. It was unrealistic and unfair to expect her to change. So when I crafted my plans to go after the targets, I made them more flexible. It was foolish of me to expect her to follow them, after all. She was too much of a free spirit. How could I not have seen that before? I simply had to try to anticipate her reactions and plan for them. The result was exquisite. There were no more surprises. When she did something drastic from the original plan, I was ready for it. It took more leg work on my part, but I found that I missed keeping myself busy and this was the perfect distraction.

That was another change that made things easier for me. The simple act of arriving early and covering everything with the plastic made it much easier to avoid leaving behind telltale evidence. Obtaining the plastic was easier than I thought, it was so generic that I could find it in multiple locations and pilfer it. It was a little more leg work, but it made the cleanup monumentally easier.

So, in short, I was able to provide everything that Sophia needed, I was able to do what she wanted.

As a result, she was much more the Sophia that I adored. When she came home, she was laughing. That first day, after I had escaped my brothers, she even brought me a rose. I cherished it, even 'acquiring' the necessary chemicals to preserve it. This was the beginning of a long line of little things, things that made my very heart sing and dance. One morning, she left me a post it note on the pillow with the simple words 'I love you.' When she discovered that my favorite candy was Reese's, I began to find the little bite-sized morsels in odd places around the area that I had set up as my work station.

But, of course, the biggest thing was how she acted. Sometimes she gave me a hug and kept me in there. We would just stand there in each other's embrace, relishing in each other's presence. When she walked by, I would always get something. A peck on the cheek, a stroke of a finger on my skin, a smile…

God how I love her.

She didn't say as much, but I'm sure that that's just because she's happier as well. And sometimes those smiles and other things didn't quite reach her eyes, but, of course, she goes to work and I'm sure that she's tired. Plus adjusting to life with someone like me can't be easy. That was the reason for those odd things that I noticed.

Sure of it.

Positive.

Of course, our new synchronization translated blissfully to our excursions for our targets. This is where she truly shined. It was as if she was glowing. In truth, I was paying slightly less attention to the actual killing of the targets. Instead, I found myself staring at her. Her eyes, her face, her entire body nearly cackled with electric energy. It was enthralling.

We still kept up our breakneck pace. Nearly a target every other day. But where before it was getting exhausting, now it only seemed to rev me further, get me more excited. There was a big reason for that.

It was back.

That high. That special chemical, mental note of awesome that I was missing not so long ago.

Each time we got ready to leave, I could feel the energy within me rise, I could feel the chemical hormone soup getting itself ready, it was just like before.

Only better.

Each time we killed the target, with my eyes glued to Sophia, I was so high that I was practically shaking. When it came time to come together after, it was more than it was before. It was as if our bodies melded in a pool of bliss. It was impossible to imagine anything more. I was so keyed up by her energy that sometimes we made love again when we got home. This one was always slower, gentler, more loving, more intimate.

I don't even know why we ever had an issue. All I had to do was to adjust what I was doing. It wasn't that hard.

It was me.

Part of it was keeping busy. When I wasn't planning or hunting for the next target, then I kept myself occupied in other ways. Scrounging some cookbooks, I began to teach myself to cook. I never had a reason to learn before, with Mike being so good at it, but I found that I had a sort of skill for it. It was almost like a machine, you had to get all the parts and make sure that they work the way that they're supposed to.

There was a few hiccups with this, of course. Sometimes Sophia would come home, see what I had tried to cook, and get angry. This was my doing, of course. Why didn't I just take the time to inquire on her tastes? Obviously I needed more practice.

I also began to venture out of the apartment more. I was always careful about this, of course, only doing so in the darker hours, and never when Sophia was home. After all, when she was home then I can't distract myself. In any case, this allowed me to get some supplies that I didn't want to ask Sophia for. She had enough on her plate already. So she didn't have to know.

And, lastly, I began starting my own practice once more. Strange, I had never done ninjitsu practice on my own before, without Leo or Splinter calling and scheduling it, but it was something to do and since I had Sophia to look after I wanted to be sure to be able to protect her. She acted tough, and as a marine I'm sure that she was, but I was sure that underneath she was just as delicate and feminine as she appeared to be.

In summary, I had learned my lesson well. If I kept this up, then things could only get better. I wouldn't make the same mistakes again. I didn't want to shatter anything that was going on right now.

Everything was perfect.

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He twitched, gulping air as the knife was driven in deeper. With Sophia's hands covering mine, we twisted it, dragging it up to his sternum, until the steel rested on his xiphoid process. The flesh parted with all the grace of wet laundry, the innards spilling to the surface. The blood spurted in the air, misting in a beautiful way. It speckled her cheek, reminding me of the spots on a leopard. Smiling at me, her eyes seemed wild and feral. Yes. She was a wildcat. My wildcat.

Reaching over, she cupped the back of my head and thrust our heads together. I was only too happy to oblige, returning her punishing kiss with gusto. The hormones and adrenaline coursing through me only made everything more intense. Moaning, our tongues mingled, the taste of the pedophile's blood mixing with our saliva. It seemed to be like a wine, more heady than anything tried before.

She moaned in my mouth, then brought her hands down my plastron, her fingers tickling across the yellowish flesh, sending little zings of pleasure shooting through my body. I gasped. Everything was so fantastic, I was riding on one of the best post-kill highs that I remember. Part of it was the pedophile. We had a special spot reserved for pedophiles, it seemed, killing this particular brand of scum revved our engines until it was almost unbearable.

Flashing a smile, she pulled at my shoulders, urging me to get on top of her. Returning her smile, I happily obliged, laying her down on the plastic sheeting, making it crinkle loudly as she rested her body. With the bloody knife still in her hand, she gave a manic-like giggle and stretched out her body out full length in a playful invitation.

My breath hitched in my throat as my eyes roved over her frame in breathless anticipation. It was rare that she allowed me to take the initiative in our lovemaking. I only hesitated a second. With a low, growling churr, I cupped her cheeks with my hands, moving my thumbs over her eyebrows, through her delicate eyelashes, across her lips. Licking my own lips, I slowly moved my palms down her body, fingertips dancing on the sensitive skin of her throat, playing around the swells of her small breasts, stroking across her ribcage, feathering into the depression in her belly. She gasped and writhed, then moved her hands down, about to grab me.

I swallowed. "No, please." I wanted to do it this time. Be the instigator.

I partly expected her to protest, but instead she smiled and arched her back. Her hand, still grasping the knife, suddenly moved fast and imbedded the blade into the floor right above her head. Grabbing the handle with her other hand, she writhed her body enticingly. It almost seemed as though her hands were tied to the knife, leaving her body open to me and only me. Seeing my expression she laughed. It sounded like bells.

By now the blood was pooling on the plastic from the dead body, reaching where she lay, slowly seeping into her clothes. That meant that they would need to be destroyed. I smiled. Why not start now?

With a laugh of my own I grabbed the collar of her simple cotton shirt and ripped the fabric down. She gasped. Immediately I was on her, my mouth playing over the skin on her chest, even as my hands continued their ripping. The intensity was getting overwhelming. I needed this. The waist of her pants was gone. I couldn't hold back any more. The forces in my own body was singing for release, I needed to answer their call. Moaning, I worked the damnable fabric down, near frantic. She laughed and bells danced in my head.

When we finally came together it was more explosive than anything I remember. We were one. She was mine. I was hers. We loved each other. Nothing could ever change that. Nothing could ever end this.

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The next day was the wonderful, languid type of day where it didn't seem to matter what would need to be done at all. I woke up aroused, thanks to Sophia. Lovemaking had to be the best way to start a day, hands down.

All this physicality made me decide to dedicate the day largely to training. I didn't have any supplies I needed, I had targets planned for the next week, so my day was largely empty.

As soon as I got up, I did an intense warm up, (not including the heat exchanged with Sophia) enough to heat my muscles to an exquisite tenderness. Then the rest of the morning was spent making a casserole. It was a new one that I had found, it was basically a type of seafood lasagna, but it was complex enough that I was up for it. After all my careful measuring and cutting, I layered it together exactly as per the instructions and set it in the oven in the large pyrex dish. It took over three hours to cook, so I had time.

Humming softly to myself I headed to the bathroom, a smile on my face.

After moving the furniture aside to give me room, I flipped on the TV to the news and began to move my body in familiar stretches, slowly warming my muscles to the motions as well. Reaching down under the bed, I slid out my bostaff. Sophia had insisted that I not use it anymore, and for our excursions I didn't, but I still loved the weighted feel of the the well-worn wood in my fingers. So I only took it out for practice.

Smiling, I twirled it in my fingers. It whistled slightly as it tore through the air. Changing my grip I brought it down hard, just short of the floor, my smile broadening as the tip reverberated from the motion. Then I began to move in my favorite kata, one that stressed the muscles more while allowing the fullest amount of motion. I kept my eyes glued to the TV the entire time.

I had been paying more attention to the news lately, partly to coincide with my change in planning. Where before publicity hadn't mattered, partly because I was too caught up in my own whirlwind, I now studied it for signs of our discovery. Or at least to see what they thought about us. I also hacked into the police database regularly to check their progress.

So far, I had everything well in the bag. They had a few pieces of evidence, but it was nothing that could link anything to Sophia. The plastic was serving me well, indeed.

The newswoman appeared on the screen as the update to our killings was about to start. I smiled. Likely I was going to see more interviews from citizens saying how much they appreciated The Vigilante Butcher. Some even wished to do the same thing, emboldened by what we were doing. So much so, in fact, that quite a few copycats were caught. Law enforcement, of course, had nothing good to say about us, calling us criminals and murderers.

Bad, bad us, killing poor, defensless rapists, molesters and murderers.

Right.

Smiling, I twirled the bostaff through the air, listening to the newswoman talk.

"Another body was found today. The victim-"

Victim. Hah. What bullshit.

"-was found in his apartment, apparently the work of The Vigilante Butcher. Our sources show that he was tried for the molestation of 4 girls under the age of 10, but the case was thrown out due to technical reasons."

Yeah. You're welcome.

She went through the other stuff that almost always followed. How, though the public opinion of the serial killer was positive, that we were still to be apprehended at any cost and that the police were urging anyone with any information to come forward.

Then the screen flipped to the police chief. He was a portly guy, completely out of shape and disgusting, in my opinion. When he talked the florid flesh on his face vibrated just a little and his gut hung over his belt.

New York's finest.

Today, though, something about him made me pause. Normally when he talked about our killings, he was at least slightly flustered. It was understandable, of course, there were people demanding that he catch us, and I knew for a fact that he didn't have any convincing evidence. In fact, I knew from looking at their database that they were sure that the killer was one or more black males. Couldn't be more off than that. Today, though, he couldn't quite hide the smile playing on his lips.

I paused. Something wasn't quite right.

He went through his usual repitoire of 'no comment' and urging people to come forward. Then, he finally released his smile and looked at the camera. "Don't worry, we're getting close to finding this guy."

He never said anything like that before.

Something in my gut went cold and I stood there for a moment, just staring at the screen.

What did he have to be so cocky about?

Something was wrong. I did something wrong. Did he find something?

My body started moving before my brain registered. I found myself opening my laptop. Fingers moving from muscle memory, I wove a hacker's web, slithering into the police database. Eyes darting back and forth across the screen, looking for our file. Then I found it.

Oh, shit.

My brain flashed back to the previous night when we made love on the floor. She put the knife into the floor, above her head, to keep her hands away in our sexual play.

Above her head.

Piercing the plastic.

Which is how they found it.

For a moment I couldn't breath, I couldn't think. This couldn't be happening. I was always so careful…

Except for last night.

They found her hair.

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A/N: You knew it had to be coming eventually! Everybody slips up at least once. Please leave a review and let me know what you think!