Chapter 50: Scars

While in bed, Raphael ran his three fingers through Nia's shoulder-length hair, detangling knots. It was a mindless action, one which kept him calm enough where he could listen to the breaths of his wife without imagining how he'd almost lost her. Again.

"Raph?" Nia asked, voice laden with sleep. Her head shifted along her husband's shoulder, though he wouldn't meet her mismatched eyes. "Raph?"

"Didn't mean ta wake ya," Raph countered as she yawned.

"What time is it?"

"Around three."

"Morning?"

"Afternoon."

"Oh…Sorry; I tried staying awake until you came home from Hugh's."

"Ya got every reason ta wanna sleep. It's alright."

"How'd your visit go?" The artist peered up through her bangs with a half-brown-half-teal stare Raph admitted still seemed foreign.

"Good until the end," he answered in a low tone. "Kaiya woke up when we were talkin' about Tabitha an'…well, she blames herself. Thinks if the bus never rolled, Tabi would be alive."

"If it hadn't, it's possible all the kids inside would've been shot, used as Pierce's decoys throughout the War Zone."

"That's what we keep tellin' her. But the kid's too much like Leo."

"Feels responsible even when she isn't?"

"Bingo."

Nia sighed then resituated her cheek so it rested against the mutant's thick bicep. "Wish I could've been there as support."

"Warner-Frost has been keepin' ya busy. I hardly have time wit' ya."

"I know. Irma gave me some leeway due to my Anemia. But she really wants the mural done."

"Ain't it close?"

"Sort'a. Then she wants another."

"Really?" Eye ridge raised, Raph sent his sheepish wife a pout. "Where do I fit inta this picture?"

"I like working." Nia's hand rose then brushed his long jaw line with her fingertips. He was pleased to note her nails were no longer yellowish. "It's therapeutic."

"I can be therapeutic." A feral growl rumbled from the mutant's throat as his hand traveled from her hip to her chest, and his smirk grew when a blush reddened Nia's otherwise pale face.

"Be serious."

"I am."

The artist returned his wandering hand to her hip then flashed a look that soon melted into a calmer expression. "Ever since Oswald, painting's been easier. I—I'm not as stressed, even when Miss Heart complains."

"Ya could be not-stressed here, too," the Sai master grumbled. He earned a smile, which lightened his mood, if only slightly.

"True. Mama and Daddy's visit went well. I'm so happy she's accepted you guys."

Thank God one of the Anders was on his side, right?

"And you know something else?" Raph paused, so Nia was prompted to finish her statement. "I haven't had a nightmare in over a week. Y—you'd think I would, considering, but…I haven't."

"Good. I want ya thinkin' about October about as much I wanna think about…July."

A silence followed—one which locked the couple's gaze until Nia glanced away. She looked down at her colorful tights above the sheets, touching her covered toes against a pale green mark atop the mutant's left foot. It rested there, barely spanning from his ankle to his toe knuckles, before she drew in a short breath,

"I—I've never asked before, but is this…?"

Raphael could no longer see the round mark, but its general existence left him with a sour gut. "Where I was shot. Yeah."

"When the Summers…"

"It's just anoddah scar. We've gained quite the collection, haven't we?"

"They don't have to be bad things."

"What do ya mean?"

Feet forgotten, Nia glanced back up at her husband then wrapped an arm around his muscular neck. "E—every time we look at our scars, we think of pain, when they can represent more. I—I don't know about you, but I want to start seeing them in a different light."

"How so?"

"Like…why don't we point out scars on each other then name the positive things they mean?"

The hothead almost laughed. "I ain't sure what good ya can find in my scars, Shuǐ."

Even so, Nia looked unfazed by his pessimism and stroked his foot with her hers again. "This gun shot. It shouldn't signify loss, but let everyone know h—how big and courageous your heart is. It's proof that you were ready to die yourself for a stranger, a mother. It's shows heroism."

"Like this." Raph run a thumb over the inch-long indent inside Nia's right arm. To think it was still there after Oswald. How odd.

"Where I gave tissue samples," the artist croaked.

"An' yet it dun't hold a candle ta reality. This"—this mutant hissed under his breath—"this is a small glimpse 'a yer sacrifice. It was the start, an' shows how far yer willin' ta go for family."

"I learned from the best, Huǒ. Here"—Nia's eyes glossed over, the bedroom's subtle light dimming as her fingers traced the bubbly lines over Raph's right eye—"you got this from Pierce. Leo was taken, suffering, and you wouldn't let anything stop you, no matter the odds."

"Damn thing still acts up sometimes." The hothead flashed a short-lived smirk, turning solemn when his wife's hand landed on his cracked plastron scute.

"My rat bites aren't nearly as uplifting…everything else, though? E—even my burn. They can mean something good."

'She's sure got a unique way 'a lookin' at things,' thought Raphael with a smile.

It was part of the reason he loved her so much, and that love longed for action. Placing a hand behind Nia's head, he drew her lips towards his. The kiss was soft, sensual, but he made it last until a tingling warmth filled his whole body—even if her morning breath lacked charm.

"Um"—Raph relished in how Nia floundered for words—"wh—what time is it again?"

"Probably more near four now. Why?"

"We—we're, uh, having a dinner tonight. Remember?" Nia must've read through the hothead's blank stare since she huffed. "Sonya, er, Sophia called Mikey-niichan, remember? She wanted to meet everyone. Officially. Her and her mom."

"More 'meet the parents' joy." Raph's flat tone earned a poke at his shoulder.

"My parents and April-anechan are coming too. Everyone figured we might as well."

"So what does that bring the guest list up ta?"

"Let's see." The artist began counting with her fingers. "Me, you, Splinter-san, Mikey-niichan, April-anechan, Sophia-san—"

"Ya're really inta the honorifics, ain't ya?"

With half-lidded brown and teal eyes, Nia countered Raph's smirk by snorting. "It's practice for when Leo comes back. Now stop distracting me. There's also Mama, Daddy, Sophia's mom, and Donny-niichan. So, like, ten."

"Eleven."

"Huh?"

The pale human blinked as Raphael's massive arms wrapped around her, a precautionary measure for when he continued, "Last night, Mike 'n I ran inta Melody."

"What?"

"Will ya—stop! Give her some breathin' room, will ya?" Nia ceased squirming, if only because her husband kept her pinned along the unmade bed. She looked up with a curious gaze, which grew worried as the seconds passed. "She was a mess when we found her, Ni. Cried herself ta sleep in my arms on the way home."

"You carried her?"

"It was a feat. Trust me; she ain't light. But Mike's side didn't need the stress an'…she was too weak ta walk on her own."

"How is she now? Where is she?"

"Where do ya think? Don hasn't let her out 'a his sight."

"Has she said anything about where she's been?"

"Some stuff, but"—the mutant's tone turned grim—"let's not talk about it. I'm sure she'll confide in ya. Later. How about we get ready for dinner instead? Bet Mikey's stoked."

"True," Nia conceded, sitting upright alongside Raph. "Fine. Let's go see if he's started cooking. Pez will love to help."

Pez? Feh! Raph grimaced, yet said nothing as his wife smiled.

Donatello knew the figure buried below three comforters wouldn't be easily persuaded—especially since so many people were arriving for dinner. Heck, even from his second-story bedroom, he could hear the bustle downstairs and Mikey's guests were still in route.

'She rarely covers herself so much,' the genius thought. 'When she came home, she was super heated from the pent up ions. But no matter how many we discharged, she shouldn't be comfortable enough to stay here…'

"Mel," he addressed through the dark room. No motion. "Mel, please. Sensei wants to see you."

"I don't want to see anybody," said a feeble voice below the blankets. Was that really Melody?

The mutant frowned, inching closer towards his wife. "Just give it a chance. A break from"—Don paused—"this could make you feel better."

"Doubtful."

"Is that what you believed when my brothers brought you home?"

Melody's legs drew closer towards her chest; Don could tell by the moving lump beside him.

"Wanna talk about where you've been this past week?" Only a stale stillness reigned throughout the bedroom, so Donny gave into the sigh he had been withholding. "Mel—"

"I was with Sven…" Melody spoke so softly, her husband needed a moment to process her statement.

"The whole time?"

Michelangelo's laugh sounded faint in the background then faded when the cyborg finally continued, "After Hunt…I—I—I couldn't even think about facing you."

"Raph had a point about that," admitted Don, toneless. "There're some things you just can't hold back. It was your reaction, Melody, like someone yelling when their foot's stomped on."

"I did more than yell…"

"Even before your…change, you reacted to pain violently. It was expected and I don't blame you for it. You did make Channel Six News, though."

"What kind of…? Did they see…?"

"You haven't watched any TV?"

The lump shook near the pillows.

"Their footage, uh—" What would be the right word? "It was recorded from a distance and you guys moved too fast for a clear focus on anything defining, like a face. Leatherhead's exposed, though. And the EPF are claiming you as a rouge cyborg."

"Like some rabid dog?"

"In a way? Speaking of LH, you should visit him. He's been eager to know how you're holding up."

"I caused trouble for him, too."

"Everything was trouble that day."

"How's his tail?"

Don flashed a smile, even if the darkness and covers prevented Melody from seeing it. "If you visit, you'll know."

A huff sounded—a short action, muffled by the thick barrier Mel insisted she keep up.

"Where's Sven now? He wasn't there when my brothers found you."

"He…he went home. I hope."

"Hope? Can't you confirm by—"

"We closed the frequency."

"Oh? Why?"

"It—it's too much right now," Mel whispered through trembling words. "We…we can't. It's too…it's too quiet without Tabi…"

Don longed to hold his wife arms. But she wasn't ready. She sniffled, hissed, and the mutant could do nothing more than clench his hands together.

"I—I'm so sorry, Melody," he said. "I know it's the typical thing everyone says, but—"

"I get what you mean, Damn Mechanic." The blankets rose with the cyborg's deep inhale, yet didn't ease as smoothly when she added, "We couldn't stay after Hunt self-destructed. We made sure you all were alive a—a—and watched you pile into the Battle Shell. Then we left."

"Where'd you go?"

"Anywhere vacant."

"That's vague."

Mel scoffed in response to Don's dry tone. "It's not important. We stayed there until we learned what the EPF planned for Tabitha's body."

"How'd you find that out?"

"Sven. His brain is more capable than you think…"

"So…Did you have anything to do with Bishop's van disappearing?"

While curt, his question held weight. It pushed down on the dark room like a concrete slab, crushing the mutant, and he hunched by the time his wife answered.

"They were going to butcher her, Don," she said in a hoarse, strangled tone. "Butcher, dissect, and study for their own sakes—so they could make more Hunts. I…I couldn't let that happen!"

"I'm not disappointed, Melody." Resting a hand over the covers where his wife's feet remained curled, the mutant straightened. "Hunt needed destroyed, one way or another. And Tabi"—his hand pressed harder as Melody's emotions rocked the bed—"she deserved better."

"So much better." Mel sniffled and the next words left her in a heated whisper, "We jumped the van. I crushed it, set it on fire, and then crushed it some more. Didn't stop until a metal ball was left."

Donny had a distinct feeling that below the blankets, his wife clenched her robotic fists in remembrance of the attack. However, the anger passed in seconds, much like most of her emotions nowadays. Controlled once again, the bed ceased shaking as the cyborg's voice turned stony,

"We…we wanted her parents to see her, for a goodbye. But…the damage from the bus falling on her was"—Mel made a garbled sound, like she wanted to hurl—"God, it was terrible. I—I didn't want that to be the last image in their mind of her…

"She'd always talked about leaving New York, about mountains and fresh air. Visiting Casey's farmhouse was an experience. You should've seen how elated she was over the simplest things, like plants or all the animals. So, Sven and I traveled. We brought her to a place surrounded by grass and trees and"—a subtle softness touched the cyborg's tone—"we buried her where the damn EPF will never find her."

Donatello had no question about where Melody had meant. "You took her to Massachusetts."

"I had no permission, but…"

"Did you think April would say no in Casey's place? Tabi was your sister, Mel. Ape isn't heartless."

"No. She just doesn't like me."

"And you dislike her for not liking you. It's a vicious circle. Still, you didn't have to do all of that alone."

"I wasn't alone."

"You were when we found you."

"Sven needed time away. He's taking it harder than me."

"Than you?" Don caved into his smirk, letting the light tease reign. He sensed it went unappreciated even before Melody said,

"He can't cry, Donatello."

The full name alone would've been enough to make the mutant cringe. Add that atop the frustrated rage bubbling beneath his wife's tone and it downright killed his relief with a figurative stake through his heart.

"The hormones he should release, he can't," the cyborg followed up. "Stephens ensured as much. All…all he can do is scream…Scream. D—Donny."

From fuming to whimpering at a moment's notice, the sudden change dug the stake further into Donatello's chest. Enough was enough. He could see well enough in the dark bedroom and no longer held back from pulling the comforters away from Melody's head. She put up no fight—a testament to her weak state, like her anguished expression and wide eye that was underlined by days of sleeplessness. She maintained composure for a whole second. Then, her dam broke.

Tears flooded as Donatello gathered her in his arms. She trembled against his long plastron, hot from residual heat, and he never once thought to reprimand her for the awkward whines and sniffles she released beside his head.

"E—e—even when he couldn't talk anymore, he still screamed," she sobbed out. "I had to be there. That isn't something everyone could understand. And it's hard. He—he needed me."

Don held onto Mel tighter, saying, "Okay, okay. I get it. And you helped him. He's on his way home now, to be with his brother and father. It's time you did likewise. Your wounds won't heal alone. They need help, they need family."

"Wounds like this leave scars."

"Naturally. You'll never forget Tabi, and she'll never mean less to you. But I won't sit back and let grief eat you up. I'd rather risk more knuckle indents in my cheek." The cyborg chuckled—a weak, slow act that could've easily been overlooked had Donny not been so close. "Mourning isn't passive. It's active and the only way to conquer it is to surround yourself in love, so you can accept it. Eventually."

"You sound like a brochure, Damn Mechanic."

"Well"—the mutant tensed his arms—"I read up on it because of Sensei…"

"Always preparing."

"It was a reality," the genius muttered. "I went back and forth between believing it and not."

"Know the feeling…"

"You helped save him, though. He's grateful for that. And you know…"

Melody hesitantly raised her vision, so Donatello smiled.

"He'd love your company tonight. We all would. Just for a few hours, okay? Then you can rest more."

The cyborg gave a long sigh in reply, then a nod. It was as good as any consent, so he helped dry her tears before leading her out of bed.