A/N: Blah. Behind in posting since I was so busy this weekend. LOL

WOLF - You ain't seen nothing yet. *holds back snort of laughter while watching Raph wipe his face*

Feather - Oh, how I've missed you! Thanks so much for the binge reviews; it SERIOUSLY made my night, as always. Good luck on Finals, Dude! Hope they're over soon. :D

Chapter 33: Fear

Did anyone catch the license plate of the semi-truck that just made a hit and run? Because Michelangelo was quite sure he had strong grounds for a lawsuit.

The mutant stirred against something solid, opening his eyes to see why he felt so heavy. Well, he wasn't in a street, and to his knowledge, his body was bare. However, lifting his arm feel like a chore and something sticky smeared across his check when he touched it.

Wait. Was it blood? Mikey rubbed his fingers together, noting the tacky, red substance that coated them. Yup. It was probably his, huh? Or if not his then—

"Sophia!"

"Mikey, stop!" Donatello's cry earned his younger brother's gaze, which blurred into green and purple shapes beyond him. "Mel isn't done."

Blinking rapidly, Mikey asked, "Done with what?"

"Stitching," said a deep voice. Mikey turned his now-clear vision towards the dull pressure at his side, where Melody worked from her knelt position in some grass. "You are lucky most of these wounds are superficial. They made us think the worst when we arrived. However, the lacerations are localized to your head and legs and were easily mended. My assumption is that you were curled in a fetal position during this attack."

At the cyborg's pensive stare, the hero grimaced. "Not all of us have armor and super-strength, ya know? Those monsters were as tall as a car and used me like a play toy."

"What monsters?" Don pressed a hand against Mikey's throbbing temple, but the younger brother swatted away the concern.

"I'm not crazy, Donny," he hissed. "They were a mix, like Nia's little pet. Except way bigger and meaner."

"More EPF escapees?"

"I—I'm not sure. But none of this is—damn, Melody!" Michelangelo's arm shot out. He meant to push the cyborg away, yet she remained unmoving as his weak palm squished part of her face.

"Localized anesthesia must be wearing off," she muttered. "That is what you get for having such limited access."

"Stop talking to yourself and tell me what's going on," Mikey snapped. "When did I come to Central Park? Why is the sun already going down? What are you working on? And where the hell is Sophia?"

A huff passed before Melody sat back on her feet. Her metallic hands drew back to reveal layers of red—so much so that the Chūnin's stomach caught in his throat.

"I—is that…?"

"Yours." The half-blonde obviously didn't like to admit her answer, so she kept busy by cleaning up a medical kit beside her. "There is a long gash that barely missed your femoral artery and your side was punctured. It tore some scar tissue, which Donatello says is from an old stab wound."

"A PD with tasteless orange hair gave me that," confirmed Mikey, prodding the aching wound. "How bad is it?"

"Your"—Melody hesitated—"friend reacted quickly. She created a tourniquet for your leg then applied pressure with her shirt until we came."

What shirt? Michelangelo glanced around the unkempt grass for it, but only found a blood trail leading far away.

"That's the only good thing she's got goin' for her right now," someone snarled.

Far from the tree that supported him, Mikey spotted Raphael. He stood like he was uncomfortable and clenched a blood-soaked cloth in his fist so tightly, his knuckles were white as it dripped red.

"Where is she, Raph?" asked Mikey, stoic.

"I'd know that if Genius here hadn't held me back!"

"You're in no mood to act civil," Donatello interjected. "Had you gone after her, more blood would've been shed."

"She said she'd left him. That makes this her fault."

"Always looking for someone to blame, aren't you?"

In an instant, Raph's eyes flared. "Well, someone has to pay!"

"Raphael," Melody spoke evenly, not looking at the hothead as he stepped forward. "The girl is not Gavin. And tracking her down will not make you feel any better about Nia's absence."

'She sensed that reason too, huh?' thought Mikey with a sigh. Raphael returned to sulking by a distant tree, although his grip on the cloth loosened—a testament to the truth. 'I wanna be angry, but…I also can't blame him. Poor doofus.'

"We don't know where your friend went," said Donny, a hand on his wife's shoulder. "Our main concern was you."

"I can guarantee you she needs help as well," Mikey countered. Hissing, he braced two dirty hands against the tree behind him then struggled to stand.

"I advise against walking," Melody stated in a dry tone.

"Advice acknowledged and ignored. Sorry, but you didn't see the fear in Hoshi's eyes. I gotta make sure she's okay."

"Ya ain't in any condition for a search," Raph added from afar.

Mikey sent him a pointed stare, despite the burn that threatened to collapse his legs. "You aren't one to talk."

"But he's right." Don braced his younger brother when he swayed. "You need rest."

"I can't rest; not without knowing how she is. Please, Don, what if it were Melody?" The genius closed his gap-toothed mouth, following Mike's gaze to Raph. "What if it were Nia?" he asked, softer.

"Even if we agreed," the hotheaded started, "how would you find her?"

Mikey met Donatello's brown eyes and grinned. "You brought your tablet, right?"

"Yes," Don answered slowly.

"Then it's a simple matter of tracking her phone."

What a coward! How could she have done that? How could she have given into fear and left?

'Idiot,' Sophia thought in Italian, stumbling. 'You come across a few animals then freak? What would Maestra say?'

Mill would be livid, that much was for sure. She'd also beat the shit out of her protégé while giving an hour long spiel about overcoming weaknesses.

'She's done it before. I thought…I thought I had gotten better, but…'

Those beasts had brought back too many memories and the sheer anxiety behind them still shook her body hours later.

'I only had one thought at that point, but he didn't deserve abandonment…'

So why had she listened to Turtle Titan's demand? She knew he had no hope of holding off the creatures. They were too powerful, too overwhelming. Hell, they had bent iron beams while trying to pin the heroes down. Yet she had turned her back and ran.

Shameful.

He could've died. It would've been her fault, too.

"Fanculo!" Sophia snarled, kicking forward. A faint crack followed—the twisting of her ankle—and the green-haired heroine cursed again as her mind adjusted to her surroundings for the first time.

She stood on a grassy hill surrounded by tombstones and flower wreaths. They seemed to stretch on forever, but that was because the markers faded into the darkness beyond a few lampposts. A quick survey revealed a dirt path behind her. Apparently, she'd been following it, although she couldn't recall for how long.

"I'm such a mess," Sophia muttered. Her fists clenched as she faced what she'd kicked earlier, a grim smile across her lips. "Sorry"—she squinted at the name etched into a rounded tombstone—"Misses Summers. Guess it serves me right for complaining about my day when you're…"

Was it worth finishing her statement? Not really. So, groaning, the heroine sank to her knees then twisted to use Misses Summers as a backrest. She slumped over her scraped legs then finally realized how battered she looked.

Her sleeveless shirt was long gone, her fishnets in ruins. Dried blood caked her disheveled hair against her neck and she had no idea where her mask or pendant was. Granted that her gloves and combat boots had held up well to the beatings, she likely looked like a maimed prostitute…

"That's a dangerous look to sport around New York, Hoshi."

Sophia didn't bother jerking her head up. She kept it between her knees, unable to bear Turtle Titan's bloody state any longer. "How did you find me, Figo?" she asked in a small voice.

"GPS from the phone in your utility belt," he answered, somehow light. He must've smiled, but the heroine growled softly, adding,

"You shouldn't be walking."

"Oh, I know." There was a pause while the hero shifted. "My clan doesn't agree with me being here, either, but I had to see you."

Sophia gripped her legs. "Why? I left you."

"You think that makes you a bad person?"

"Doesn't matter what it makes me. I should've…I should've stood my ground."

A silence followed. Well, as silent as a New York City night could be. Horns honked, buildings hummed, and sirens wailed in the distance; however, paying attention to the background noise didn't keep Sophia from noticing that the mutant used the tombstone beside her as a second seat.

"Resting feels much better than standing," the mutant said with a laugh. Was he serious?

Sophia lifted her head, scowling at the beaten hero now out of costume. "How is this funny, stronzo? We could've died out there!"

"Isn't that the risk we take as heroes?" Michelangelo countered. His blue eyes looked so controlled that the blonde felt her blood boil.

"That's not the point!"

"Then what is?"

"I—" Sophia choked on the truth and gripped her knees until their old cuts reopened. "Heroes don't run. They always stand, no matter what."

"That's Madam Vermillion talk," the green-skinned mutant noted, somewhat distant. After a blink, his eyes refocused on Sophia's steely stare, but they were infuriatingly gentle—not at all the look her master would've given in such a situation. "Being a hero doesn't mean you'll never be scared, Hoshi."

"No, it means standing regardless of your fears. And I…" She failed—simple as that—and she had to shake her mind free of the beasts' dark eyes so her trembles wouldn't worsen.

"Everyone has a weakness," Michelangelo countered while catching her gaze.

"I can't afford weaknesses," the blonde spat. "I'm not allowed to be weak."

"Sophia"—the mutant reached for the heroine's hand despite how bloody it was—"I've never seen you outright mortified before. You're usually confident and stubborn. Why…What about those creatures scared you so much?"

There was no answer to give that didn't sound like an excuse. Instead, Soph tugged for her hand back, turning.

"No." The mutant maintained his grip to force her attention back on him. "You can tell me. We're partners, remember?"

"Since when does that mean we have to reveal fears?"

"Want me to go first then?"

Sophia reeled, confused by the glance Michelangelo gave the tombstones they leaned against. He touched the one behind her as if it were brittle then smiled half-heartedly.

"My biggest fear is getting others hurt. The woman you're sitting on…she's someone I failed."

The blonde almost scoffed until she realized how honest the mutant's gaze was. She followed his eyes to the tombstone, twisting so she could read its engraving.

Here lies Ellen Summers. January 17, 1963 – July 20, 2011. Dutiful mother. Valued friend. Forever will be missed.

"It wasn't our fault," added Michelangelo. "We did what we could. But she died…in my brother's arms. Her"—the mutant drew in a sharp intake of air—"her nine-year-old son died that night too. I held him."

The male's voice had dropped to a whisper, which only impacted his words. Sophia swallowed thickly as he sat upright again, and felt like throwing up when she pictured a pair of wide-set green eyes gazing down at her with love.

"So I was scared today as well," Michelangelo continued, soft. "That's why I told you to run. Don't think I can handle looking at any more graves."

"You wouldn't have had to if it weren't for my damn phobia," Sophia snarled while slapping her knee. Yeah, it stung, but watching it bleed beat succumbing to the mutant's stare.

"You called them 'cani'. Dogs? Do you fear dogs?"

'He's not giving in, is he?' Sophia groaned then slammed her bare back against Ellen Summers' rough tombstone.

"I can't help it, okay?" she asked in a snide tone.

The hero neither glared nor huffed—like Sophia had come to expect in her time with Madam Vermillion. Rather, he scooted closer, asking, "Why are you scared of them?"

"Because…they killed my older sister. Eighteen years ago."

"You—you had a sister?"

Michelangelo sounded pained, so the blonde closed her eyes and kept her hand still when the mutant placed his fingers over it. "Her name was Cosima. She was ten…"

"Can I ask—"

"How?" Sophia sneered, although it wasn't the hero who prompted the disdain. "Simply put, Papa got her killed."

While Michelangelo remained quiet, his three fingers tightened—a sure sign of surprise.

"Remember me mentioning how Mum tends to be overbearing?"

"Sorta."

"She wasn't always like that. When Cosima and I were growing up in Florence, we spent a lot of time together because Papa and Mum were barely home. Mum worked long hours while Papa…" The heroine sighed. "We were practically being raised by a babysitter and the older Cosima grew, the more responsibilities she took on. Honestly, she mothered me more than Mum did in those times."

"Sounds like my eldest brother," Michelangelo whispered.

However, Sophia refused to ask about him yet, not if she was to continue her story. "We never knew were Papa went for so long. He was supposed to be home more often than he was, even left us alone a few times after the babysitter's shift. One day, Cosima planned to follow him. I tagged along because I didn't want to be the odd one out."

"Where'd he go?"

"Underground." Sophia's answer left her lips in a dark hiss and she opened her eyes to prevent memories from filling her vision. Focusing on her boots, she clenched her fists. "The place was filled with noises. Hoots, music, but above of all, dogs barking."

"A dog fighting ring."

The heroine gave a slow nod. "We—we weren't sure what we were walking into. We just wanted him to notice us. I lost Cosima in the crowd. I thought she was going after Papa, so I did my best to reach him. But…sh—sh—she never made it. She—"

Sophia tensed; however, her shakes didn't stop. They racked her frame without mercy and tears welled as she clenched her jaw. Still, she had come this far, and Sophia Moretti was never known to go halfway.

"She had been pushed into the main pit. A fifteen foot drop with a rabid dog pack at the bottom. None of the adults even realized. They were too drunk and hyped from gambling to hear her screams. But I heard them."

"You"—the mutant's voice cracked—"you watched dogs kill your sister?"

"They ripped her apart, Michelangelo," Sophia croaked.

Her tears sped up like her heartbeat, burning her cheeks with a ferocity that matched her flashbacks. She recalled blood spatters, snarls, and maimed peach flesh all without wanting to, which forced her forehead against her knees.

"Papa was the first adult t—to notice," she added with a tight throat. "But he reached her too late. Others wanted to cover up the incident to save their asses. Perhaps the only decent thing my father did in his life was confess to the police."

"I…I—Sophia, I'm sorry."

Sophia shook her head. "'Sorry's won't bring Cosima back. But it did wake up Mum. Since then, we've grown close—much closer than before. As for Papa. He's rotting in prison, just where he belongs.

"He says giving into his gambling addiction was the worst mistake of his life, but nothing he says will ever make things better with Mum. That's why we moved to Palmero, to get away from him. And our old house."

"Makes sense. So whenever you see a dog—"

"I freeze; I know," the blonde spat with a glare. "I can't help seeing that scene. Seeing Cosima…I promised myself never to freeze again, not to let fear conquer me. I'm supposed to never be helpless."

"To be without fear would to be inhuman," said Michelangelo, solemn. He dared raise a hand against Sophia's wounded cheek. Perhaps that's why her tears increased. "It's good to conquer weaknesses, but it's impossible to be without them. Trauma like that isn't easily overcome, so you shouldn't tell yourself you're weak because it affects you. That won't make you strong, Hoshi."

"Then what will?" Sophia whispered in return.

"Leaning on others." When the mutant grinned, he brushed a thumb along the heroine's rounded jaw line. "I know Madam V worked like a solitary soldier, and she passed down that trait to you. But I don't think that's where you're happiest."

"It's not a matter of happiness. It's a matter of doing the mission right, of taking down Bishop."

"If you live by a mission alone, you miss out on a lot."

"And yet it makes it easier when people leave."

"Hoshi"—Michelangelo gripped the heroine's shoulders—"not everyone will leave."

"Tell that to my sister," Sophia hissed under his blue eyes. "Or my boyfriend. Or my friends from Palmero."

"I know it hurts like hell; trust me. But if you never want to be helpless again, then you need people. The only way you can get through your weaknesses is if there's someone there to carry you. Knowing when you need others, that's an important strength. And you need them, Sophia."

"Or do you mean I need you?"

It was a tease. The heroine even tried smirking, although her quivering lips prevented it. To her dismay, the mutant remained stoic and wrapped an arm around her shoulders without a word. He drew her close, gesturing towards someone before whispering in her ear,

"You can start now by letting my sister help stitch you up. It would be nice to give your mom a break for once, right?"

Sophia had no more will to fight, so she signed in resignation—refusing to admit out loud that she wanted people in her life after all…

A/N: Sophia/Hoshi sees herself as a soldier - meant for war, not love...Good thing Mikey's here to set things straight! God, I adore that ninja. *hearts*

Next chapter is "Twist". One hint: both Hugh's and Hoshi's worlds take a dramatic turn. And it's just the start! Don't forget to leave a review. ;D