Chapter 51: Heroes

The Lair brimmed with company, and Michelangelo had to admit…it gave the underground place a warm air. Not that his clan had ever felt incomplete or cold when it had only five members, but something about its expansion, its growth, left the mutant excited.

They needed extra chairs in the living room! One for Raphael and one for Gavin, so each hothead could sit on opposite ends of the weather-beaten sofa and sulk while their wives chatted with April. Sometimes, Splinter would join in the conversation from his armchair. Otherwise, he enjoyed listening to his family and stroking Pez's plated body in his lap.

'Nia and Splinter, those are his two favorite people in the world. Maybe it has something to do with their calm Chi. Bet he'd like Leo, too.'

Oh, Leo. Mikey's vision fell on the grand painting hung beside the many televisions, focusing on the Jonin's intense stare.

'We still haven't gotten any new letters…'

"Figo! If you aren't going to help, leave the kitchen!"

The Chūnin spun to met Sophia's puckered face. What danger lay behind it? None. So he grinned, placing his hands over her thin shoulders to rotate their positions.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Hoshi; you're the one by the doorway." Sticking out his tongue, Mikey ducked to avoid any retaliation then twisted until he almost collided with a bright pair of breasts. He caught himself on a dime, regaining composure for the chubby blonde who almost reached his height. "Sorry, Misses Moretti!"

Adeline Moretti's expression was as impressed as her daughter's, and she lifted her round chin in a way only a parent could. "Your kitchen is a disgrace," she said. "So small and disorganized."

Mike gave a shallow nod. "It's been smaller."

"No excuses. You and Sophia, always excuses."

"Don't try fighting her, Figo"—Sophia spoke from behind the mutant—"you'll never win."

"Well, that sort'a explains some things up about you."

"What things?"

"Sophia! Michelangelo!" The two jumped at Adeline's voice, Mikey more so than Hoshi. The middle-aged woman huffed then pulled back her wild, thin hair to realign it in a ponytail. "Food is life. It is joy, a friend, and meant to be respected. Capito?"

"Has she always taken food so—"

The slender blonde cut the mutant off with a matter-of-fact voice, "Seriously? Yes. Yes, she has."

"What does she think about American pizza?"

"È una merda. It's over-priced, lacking in standards, and we make it way better."

"I'll take you up on that later."

"Think I'll be hanging around that long?"

"Attenzione!" Adeline again caught the duo's attention, but not before Mikey returned Sophia's smirk with a wink. Straightening, he met the woman's bright eyes—their frost blue so striking, he could swear she was at war. "We're moving onto the Pasta Ragù. Listen carefully."

When dinner concluded, only two things were left: a lingering tomato scent and dirty dishes that littered a buffet table so densely, they hid the cloth. Seemed Adeline was relentless in matters of food etiquette. And by that, Michelangelo meant every last bite needed eaten—no excuses. Thank God for Pez!

The mutant chuckled in his chair, patting the little monster on the head with his heel before he left.

"I've never eaten so much in my life," said Nia. She sat crossways from Mikey and burped as Adeline approached behind her.

"Oh, there's more!" she announced, three bowls in her hand. Like an expert, she placed one in front of Raph then Nia then Mia. The women all exchanged a strained smile, but the male must've lacked the energy. He simply paled at the bowl presented to him. "No fruit allergies, right?"

Nia burped again. "I'm allergic to broccoli."

"Really?" Raph asked.

Adeline smiled at the artist's abashed look then handed out more bowls around the table. "It's a light dessert. But coffee is also brewing."

"Hey, Mel"—Mikey sent a smile towards the opposite end of where Splinter sat—"I know you don't like sweets. I'll eat your fruit if you want."

But it seemed another mutant already had the same idea. Donatello glanced up with his fingers in Mel's bowl, chewing.

"Dude!"

Fwap! Donny's fingers drew back with a shake after they had been struck. He looked up at the chubby blonde, who waged a finger, voice stern,

"Are you an animal?"

"Technically, we all are."

Adeline narrowed her piercing eyes until Don picked up his fork, head ducked. "Better."

A round of snickers erupted across the table. Perhaps that is what made Melody's frown look so dreary. Michelangelo wasn't the only one who noticed, either; Nia caught his attention with wounded eyes, drawing them towards the half-redhead when silence settled amongst the group.

"Laughing is acceptable, Mel," Mikey said. "You aren't doing any wrong by her if you—"

"Let's not talk about her," the cyborg interjected. She held back from delivering a glare, saving it for the fruit bowl, but even if she had directed it, the mutant would feel no less assured about what needed mentioned.

"It's good to talk about her, especially in this group."

"If dinner's turned into an intervention, I'm leaving."

The glare met Mikey full-force now. It made no difference. "We're not intervening. We"—Mikey placed a hand against his plastron—"just want you to know, we understand. Sometimes, in our pain we forget we aren't the only ones who've lost someone."

"He makes fine a point," Mia added. She glanced towards Gavin then the cyborg, licking her parted lips. "I don't think there's anyone here who hasn't experienced loss. So we say from experience, even if it feels otherwise, darkness won't reign forever."

'That gives me an idea!' Michelangelo sprung from his chair (probably suddenly, according to his audience). He found Splinter's side then asked,

"Can I borrow some things from your room, Sensei?"

Splinter nodded, albeit slowly.

The permission was good enough. Inside Splinter's bedroom, Mikey gathered as many candles as he could possibly carry. Some were hesitant to uproot from their melted position and a few broke in the struggle. However, the variety added a charming factor. He brought them and a matchbox into the living room, to a dilapidated bookshelf Raph had been too lazy to throw out. Using a foot, he pushed that around the television wall until he reached the family portrait.

"What are ya doin', Shell-for-Brains?" Raphael questioned.

"Melody's a visual learner, isn't she?" Silence reigned as Mikey settled the bookshelf below the portrait. "While we tell her things all the time, it doesn't click until we show it. So, I'm gunna show her. I hope a few of you can, too."

"Wh—what do you plan, Mikey-niichan?"

The Nunchaku master dumped the candles beside the bookshelf then sent a smile over his shoulder. "Can you turn out all the lights, except the small one in the kitchen?"

The artist furrowed her brows, but complied.

"Seriously, Numbskull, what're ya doin'?"

"Relax, Raph. I'll explain when Nia gets back." Raph looked ready to pop with frustration, so Mikey added fuel on the fire by smirking until the Lair grew dim. A faint light from the kitchen doorway kept Nia from walking into others and she acknowledged the mutant's thankful nod by nodding back.

"Okay," she said, "so we're almost blind. How does this help?"

"It seems like you're alone, doesn't it, Mel?" asked Michelangelo. He reached for a short, fat candle, convinced by the prodding stares he sensed that they regarded him seriously. "There's so much pain inside that y—you don't know what to do with it. You feel..buried, like standing's a chore. I"—he thumbed the smooth wax—"I get that. It's not a pain you'll forget, either. It will just be bearable, passing. As proof, I want us to light a candle for every loved one who's passed."

Towards the end, Mikey felt his certainty waver. He tried to keep it strong under Christina's memory, but her pale image made him hesitate before raising his vision. Mia responded first. She rolled her wheelchair back from the messy table then met the Nunchaku master. Wordless, she took the candle from his grasp, stopping once she realized an important factor.

"Does anyone have a lighter?"

"Better." Mikey opened the matchbox. "Old school."

"Hey, now," Mia raised a playful eyebrow while removing a match, "I was part of that school. So, how do you want to do this? Just light it or say something or…what?"

"Wh—whatever you want, Misses Anders."

"Please, call me Mia."

"Mia." Mike's smile returned. "If it helps, I'll go first."

Reaching behind him, the mutant's three fingers sought a new candle. It was thinner than the last and he set it upright on the half bookshelf's tallest section before pulling out his own match. A rough scratch sounded before a flame burst from the flammable end. Its heat bit at Mikey's finger tips, but he ignored the irritation and lit the candle wick.

"This is for, uh, Christina Silliman," he about whispered. "When I was taken by Bishop four years ago, she helped me through…a lot. Up until she took a hit for me. To this day, I appreciate the light she helped me maintain within Bishop's hell."

Mia rested a cold hand against Michelangelo's shoulder. They exchanged only a look, though, before Mia's match ignited. She sent Nia a glance then brought the flame to the fat candle beside Christina's, the subtle orange tainting her peachy features.

"This is for my big brother, Brett. I'm sure Nia could sense at that time, we weren't invited to his funeral. I'm disowned by the Johnsons, but…I loved him. We had good times, e—even if he hated me for dating Hugh. Brett never got a chance to turn away from hate. In the end it killed him. And that"—the woman gestured towards Mikey with an open hand, so he guessed her intent by placing a second candle in her grasp—"that came not long after my sister-in-law's suicide."

"Mama—"

Mia held up the broken candle for silence. "We weren't close, but I could tell Amy needed help. No one would believe it, though. They all insisted she was perfect. Maybe if they had admitted to being wrong, Brett would've been so angry and Dustin…Dustin would have his parents."

"I…have a cousin named Dustin?"

"He's fourteen," Mia told Nia. "Holly and Grant won't let us meet."

"Who're—"

"Your grandparents. We'll talk about this later. Okay?" Nia nodded under the brunette's thin tone, so Mia returned her gaze to the flickering lights. "A lot of hate reigned in my childhood, but…there was love as well. Those are the times I remember when I think of Brett."

"So much like my standing when I reflect upon my Master Yoshii." Tender and reminiscent, Splinter's voice floated across the melancholy atmosphere. He joined Mia and Michelangelo, walking without any stiffness as he bent down and captured a candle. He set it beside the others then lit it after accepting a match from his son. "Over two decades have passed since his murder, but he lives on in me. And my children. And the values they teach others."

"Do—do you think one can live on, even when they had no chance teach their child anything memorable?" Nia neared the candle pile with shuffling feet, like she battled her worth to pick one up.

"One's spirit is a powerful force, Nia-chan," the wizened rat answered. His smile prompted the artist to kneel. When she did, she picked up two candles that she placed by Yoshii's. Mikey expected her to squeak with surprise when she lit a match, yet she did so without batting an eye and set fire to the candle wicks.

"Although I—I never knew them, these are for my parents—my biological parents. Whether they forgot me, or were taken away, or didn't want me anymore, I'm thankful. They created something unique, and I hope…I hope in the future I can do something similar."

What'd she mean by that? Like kids? Michelangelo had seen many crazy things in his life, but if Nia hoped to give Raph a family…

'No, I'll hope with her. Life shoves so many insane things our way, I'm convinced nothing's impossible.'

"Nothing's impossible, Calza," Sophia added, as if reading the mutant's mind. The blonde sent Raph an impish smirk and judging by his delayed response, he must've been lost in his own thoughts on the matter.

"This room is full of impossibilities," Adeline noted. Her tall, chubby form pushed between Nia and Splinter then knelt at the book case. The candles greeted her with a dance, which she rewarded with a smile before wiggling her fingers in Mikey's direction.

'Is there something wrong with asking nowadays?' Still, he handed over a candle, scooting sideways so the growing group wasn't so crowded beneath the portrait.

"This light represents my baby girl Cosima." The mutant could practically feel Sophia's sudden anxiety like a knife in his gut as the older blonde continued, "She was only ten. In those ten years, though, my life was filled with such joy and silliness. Soph and I both miss her. But we would never think to rid our pain by wishing she was never born…"

As Adeline's head ducked, Sophia traveled to her mother then wrapped her in a hug her from behind. Even Raphael left his seat. He kept focused on the candles he picked up, pushing through Mikey and Hoshi before rounding Adeline. On a section below the others, near Cosima's candle, he set then lit two more candles. One was very tall, the other petite. Mike had a feeling that wasn't a coincidence.

"These are for David and Ellen Summers," the hothead muttered. "We were strangers, but I think that goes ta show how impactful any life is. I remind myself of that when I'm Patrollin'…"

"Like I keep in mind that even bad guys have legitimate reasons." Donatello tore himself from Melody's scrutiny with some difficulty then picked up a single candle, which he also placed on the lower section. "Charles Kingston," he added as his fire split from his match to the wick, "he wanted Nia at all costs because he longed to save a family he had already lost. He did bad things, not because he was a bad person, but because he was broken. And I stayed with him until he passed away since…I believe no one should die alone."

"You're a good person like that, Donny," said April while venturing towards the crowd. She wiggled through them, pausing for a candle and match, and settled the memento beside Charles'. Its glow warmed the redhead's expression as she stepped towards Splinter, rubbing her arms. "Kirby O'Neil. My dad. You would've gotten along with him."

"I'm sure I would've," the genius replied.

Michelangelo smiled at them all. Here they stood—from all walks of life—tied by a common thread. And yet the group was still incomplete. Two people remained on the outskirts, terribly quiet and stoic in the cold, synthetic light.

They wouldn't stay there, right? They couldn't; his plan had to work.

"Gavin." Mia's voice broke the silence.

Gavin countered her with a hard stare. The near-darkness and glare across his round glasses almost hid it, but his defiance could be sensed. The longer Mia held his gaze, though, the less resilient the defiance became until at last he sighed.

Like a defeated child, he stalked towards the candles, pausing at the dwindling pile. His hands almost picked up three or four before dropping all except one. That he set anywhere on the second shelf. Obviously, he didn't care much about it, yet he lit it. So Mikey considered that a success.

"For Keelan Doyle," he grumbled. "My cousin and… only friend…"

"See?" Michelangelo gave Melody a sincere yet sorrowful smile. "You aren't the only one. All this light comes from people in our past. And we're sharing that light. It's what family does, so…how about it?"

The cyborg didn't budge from where she folded her arms. There were no positive points the mutant could cling to, either. She looked shut-down from head to toe and when she turned away, he couldn't help crying out,

"Come on, Mel, please! Let us help heal you like Tabitha did when you lost your mom!"

Melody sent him a dirty look—more like she was annoyed rather than angry. It lit her half-metal face for all of a second before listlessness returned. Then, she studied the wax pile by Mikey's feet.

"You have lost more than any young woman should have to," Splinter noted. Good; she would respect his input at least. "Melody-san, once we talked about rage and love. Remember?"

The cyborg glanced up, her brow easing.

"I warned you against it. You know where it leads. This"—the rat's paw gestured to those surrounding him—"is a moment for strength. There is nothing you can reveal that would make us recant you as a clan member, so do not fear."

Splinter's gentle reassurance ended with a sigh from Melody. At last, she gave in. Her robotic feet brought her to the candles, which she assessed. Mikey could only assume she was searching for the perfect fit, and when she found it, the mutant was surprised by how she carried four candles. These she placed on the lowest section.

Long seconds passed as she lit them one by one, her voice stained with thick emotion, "I come from a place where people come and go on a daily biases. Yo—you could never count on the homeless always being there, but for these four…these four stayed in my life for as long as they could.

"My mother Gray. She was eccentric and unstable. Still, she never forgot to care for me, to tuck me under newspapers or give me the best parts of her meal. She was absolutely selfless, dependable, someone I wish…I wish was still here.

"Carlos and Fry"—the cyborg paused for a rare smile—"they were my big brothers. Or surrogate fathers. However you want to see it. They cared for Gray because she did so much for me. But then"—the smile faltered, replaced by a scowl—"Purple Dragons killed them. Because of me, because of what I stood for. It fueled my rage in those days. And it nearly consumed me until…"

Glancing at the final candle—a tall, slender one—Melody softened her tone. "Tabitha was the first person I ever wanted to protect. Instead of having someone who protected me. She became m—my best friend, m—m—my— " The cyborg sniffled, trembling worse when Donatello knelt beside her. "My sister. I should've been there. I should've saved her!"

There it was, Melody's breaking point. Michelangelo had seen it once before. Still, it didn't prepare him for the wail she released as Donatello hugged her. The tears that had dried up when she fell asleep returned with a vengeance, and he couldn't blame her for recoiling into in her husband's hold.

"Heroes are never without loss, Mel," said Mikey over her hicks and sniffles. "At one point or another, we'll lose something. But if we stick together as a clan, we'll remain standing. Because if there's one constant in this universe, it's family. So we'll always be there to pick each other up—no matter what…"

The candles represented as much. Their flames were a flickering union of oranges and yellows, one which showed just how close mutants and humans could stand at their weakest points. In the end they were all the same and not one of them thought to mention the smell of burnt coffee while the cyborg mourned.

A/N: I'll have more comments to make when I post the epilogue. :)