Decisions

"She's almost as perceptive as Mikey, isn't she?" Donatello remarked, continuing to make Sharra a sandwich.

With Michelangelo, every emotional nuance gets noted. Sharra's much the same, though I think she's more conscious in her observations whereas Mikey's more intuitive.

It was another kernel of information to add to his growing collection. He hadn't yet come up with many details of Sharra's life, but being trapped in a single room in the dark had been somewhat limiting in terms of research. Rummaging through her computer before the security shutdown had netted nothing in the way of her history.

His best lead so far was the photo. Smudged handwriting on the back implied her surname was Ravensguard. He also took a pic of her parents' faces with his shell cell. When they got back to the lair, he intended to run some intensive background checks.

Facial recognition might come up with a match. Or maybe the DMV. A camper that size had to be registered.

"That's a scary thought," Raphael grumbled, interrupting Don's musing.

Raph sat where Don left him, six feet away from Sharra. He had pulled his knees up and out and wrapped his arms across his shins in a posture far less aggressive than usual.

He doesn't generally appear this... approachable. Especially in front of strangers.

"Why?" Michelangelo asked.

"'Cause, it means she's payin' real close attention to us."

Mikey snorted, "Of course she is. She's been hunted most of her life and she grew up scavaging on the streets to survive. Out there you have to be alert to what's going on. People-watching is a critical skill."

Put that way, her past sounds very familiar.

"And you guys haven't given her much reason to trust you. Just today she almost lost her head AND got subjugated by a green monster!"

Donnie raised a mental brow.

Subjugated? I didn't think Mikey knew the word, much less how to use it correctly.

But their little brother was not nearly as naive as he played at being. Raphael, however, was not pleased to be accused of dominating an unwilling woman—again.

"That ain't what happened!" he yelled with a growl.

Sharra jumped, frightened by Raph's loud voice despite the music. Her eyes squinched shut and she bowed into herself.

Damn it, is he trying to trigger another panic attack?

Mikey made a sharp slashing gesture with his hand toward Sharra's reaction—driving home his point the others were scaring her needlessly. Don was about to agree, except Raphael appeared genuinely embarrassed by the outburst; his neck flushed and his head dipped slightly into his shell as he shot a disconcerted glance at Sharra's hunched back.

He is... making himself look LESS imposing? I've never seen him do anything like that.

"After what we've put her through," Michelangelo persisted, "I'm surprised she is holding a civil conversation with any of us, much less politely tuning out so we can chat privately in HER home!"

Leonardo pinched the bridge of his beak.

"We get it, Mike. We messed up, and we're trying to fix the situation. We didn't intend to injure your friend, but you have to admit the odds were against anyone up here being an ally."

Mikey sucked in a breath to retort, did a double-take as Leo admitted a mistake, and subsided with a dissatisfied huff.

"To answer your previous question," Leo continued in a softer tone, "We spoke to Splinter while you were asleep. I informed him of your injuries and that we were sheltering here until tonight. He wanted to come care for you, but I asked him to wait for us at home. I worry he is too fragile to travel in this sort of unusual weather."

"Dad's not that old," Michelangelo snorted, but when Raph and Donnie didn't back him up, he met Leo's gaze with concern. "Did something happen?"

"He wore himself out using the Sight to search for you. Last night, Don had to help him stand."

"Shell. I didn't mean to stress him. I'm okay. Really."

"Riiiight," Raphael drawled. "Ya' look like my punching bag after a bad night an' ya' got a 2-inch hole in yer gut, but no problem—yer fine."

Michelangelo grunted, more than used to his sarcasm, and changed the subject. "Is the power gone in the lair too?"

Donatello shook his head. "Not yet, we're south of this outage, but if it does go down, our generators will compensate."

At her make-shift desk, Sharra partially recovered and was typing away at some complex algorithm, but she kept squinting and rubbing her forehead. Don's eyes narrowed.

That's not good. I'll have to monitor her for latent symptoms of a concussion. And I still need to tape those ribs…

Don tapped the desk so the surface vibrated under her arm, alerting Sharra to his movement. When she warily met his eyes, he set the plate of food before her. She picked up the sandwich and ate mechanically, preoccupied with the content of her screen.

Shifting carefully, he eased away from the counter. He walked around her casually, and positioned himself between where Raph lounged and her chair, watching her subtly all the while.

She didn't tense up at his proximity. In fact, she relaxed. So he lingered, rifling through his duffle bag as if searching for something. He pulled out his tablet checked the temperature, and frowned at the readout. The room was frigid.

Too cold for a recovering turtle.

Mikey shivered and Don grabbed a mylar emergency blanket out of the bag. With a quick glimpse at Sharra, he moved to place the extra thermal layer over Michelangelo's shoulders

"Don't worry, we'll be home soon. The lair is much warmer than this and it'll stay that way."

"Thanks." Mikey rested his hand on top of Don's on his shoulder and squeezed. "'I'm sure Sharra will appreciate it too."

"Why?" Raph asked, confused.

"She's coming with us."

"What?!"

Despite the fact Sharra seemed to idolize his long-retired alter ego, Raphael obviously wasn't eager to have her in their home.

Probably because every time he goes near her she freaks out.

"I'm not gonna leave her here alone in a blizzard with no food or proper heat over Christmas," Michelangelo said, setting his jaw.

"She's got food," Raph said, pointing to the sandwich rapidly disappearing into Sharra's mouth. "An' I fixed the heater. Give it a little time an' this place'll warm up fine. 'Sides, if she's so scareda' us what makes you think she'd come?"

"She will if I ask," Mikey said with certainty. "She likes me." He hesitated, then added, "She needs me."

"No," Leonardo said.

It was a simple statement. A single word, delivered in a quiet, considered tone. But it landed with the impact of a grenade.

"But we hurt her!" Michelangelo exploded, "And I want to make sure—"

"No," Leo said again. "She isn't coming home with us."

"WHY?" Mikey wailed.

"We don't bring people to the lair without good reason. Sharra has recuperated from her attack of... whatever that was. She's not critically injured. And she's well established here.

"While the Foot are suspicious of her building, they'll change their focus soon enough. Records say clan activity in this sector is non-existent, so their presence shouldn't continue if we aren't coming and going."

"Friendship is not a good enough reason?" Michelangelo protested. "How about showing her a little courtesy for saving my life? Repeatedly!"

"We can never repay her for that gift, Mikey, but we have ruthless enemies—"

"I know, I KNOW! The Foot are violent bastards—blah, blah, blah. But she's already on Shredder's hit list, so he's her enemy too."

"Are you certain of that? According to you, she was attacked years ago. She's been in the city all this time and never encountered them again. Do you think that's luck?"

"They've been after us for longer than that and we're still living here."

"It's not the same and you know it. She can go anywhere. We cannot. We're ninja, trained to live in the shadows. She's not. They are just not after her anymore."

I'm not so sure. Look at this place. She knows how to stay hidden.

As if he sensed Don's unspoken objection, Leo switched tactics and demanded, "Do you want her back on their radar because of us?"

"No, but—"

"Besides, the Foot is only one of our problems. What about Bishop? Or Stockman? Or the Purple Dragons? Or all the other mutants who hate our guts?"

"Or aliens, or 3000-year-old monsters from a rift in space-time," Mikey added with his own dose of sarcasm. "I get the drift Leo, but you're talking like we're going to walk out of here and never see her again."

Leonardo's expression softened, but his eyes were resolute.

"That is exactly what we're going to do."

"No!" Michelangelo declared emphatically. "She doesn't deserve to be isolated here."

She doesn't deserve any of what's befallen her. Father was right when he said we needed to be gentle. Too bad we've proven we can't.

Leonardo sighed.

Mikey is going to fight me on this. Donatello probably is too. They are so close, Don can't stand to see Mikey hurting. Not that any of us can...

Leo hadn't missed the subtle shift in Don's breathing when Sharra embraced their brother either. Or the muffled snap of Raph's teeth. Both had enjoyed the situation a little too much.

Much as it pains you to acknowledge it, you found the sight seductive too.

Leonardo swore silently at his conscience but it spoke the truth. He already respected the hell out of Sharra for risking herself to save Mikey. And the care she lavished on him, as well as the loyalty she offered, implied a more sustainable relationship. Top that with her undeniable acceptance of their physical differences, and the scene was pure titillation.

No wonder Michelangelo is so captivated.

If Leo's mind hadn't been shielded by his sojourn into meditation as they waited, his body would have exhibited an extremely embarrassing reaction of its own.

And I've got no suit to cover my... appreciation.

As it was, a wash of heat blazed through him; radiating from the center of his being. And the near orgasmic pleasure left in its wake, sated him like never before. Such intense satisfaction made focusing on the seriousness of the circumstances near impossible.

He'd been rather blindsided by the whole moment. A few short hours ago, he thought Sharra an adversary. Then a homeless nobody. At most a good samaritan who helped his brother, one Mikey might have a short-lived bond with.

Now I know she's a miracle.

All of his protective instincts were aroused, and he saw only one way forward. This was an argument he had to win… for both their sakes.

We can't provide half of what she deserves. Hell, we can't even promise her security.

History taught them that any human who interacted with them for longer than a moment became a target. If it were known Sharra was beloved of the Hamato clan?

That's a death sentence.

This was a crisis Leonardo logically never thought they'd end up in, so he had no strategy to handle it.

Sharra is one in a million.

No, those odds were too low. With 8.3 million people in the city itself, there was no way eight humans would behave the way Sharra did.

I can't even believe there's one.

Yet, you have to end this impossible relationship before it begins.

The decision shredded his insides. Forbidding their association would hurt Michelangelo in ways Leonardo never, ever, wanted to see—much less be the cause of. And his brother might never forgive him the heartache.

But better a manageable pain now than total devastation when Sharra gets used in a bid to control us and loses her life.

From her flashbacks, she had already endured enough. Even thick-headed Raphael had cottoned on to that fact, though he could hardly have recognized the darkness in Sharra's eyes. A shadow left by bleak emotions Leonardo knew all too well.

We all have our demons. And sometimes...

Sometimes we have to be one.

"Our lives are dangerous, Mikey." Leonardo gestured to Michelangelo's obvious wounds, in the hope his little brother would recognize the peril staring him in the face. "Our friendship is dangerous."

'We are dangerous,' remained unspoken but could be read between the lines of his lecture.

All four of us have wounded Sharra in some way. Even Michelangelo.

"But—" Mikey's voice sounded weak and more than a little lost. "She needs company. And I promised to keep her safe. You're asking me to break my word."

"Right now, you ain't up to protectin' nobody," Raphael groused.

"I got her away from you, didn't I?" Mikey snapped back. "'Sides, I got brothers to help with that."

Raph stared at him a moment before giving a curt nod.

"Yer right. We ain't about ta let her get hurt. At least, not anymore..."

Leonardo glared at the hothead.

Stop muddying the waters! We can't guarantee her safety.

"But that don't mean we need her under our noses all the time either," Raphael said.

"The best way to keep Sharra safe is to not bring her into our world," Leo insisted. "Think it through. How many times have April or Casey been exploited, regardless of our protection? They are strong—resilient fighters with years of training—but they've been scarred. Do you really want Sharra subjected to the sorts of things they endured? After what she's already suffered?"

Michelangelo considered his words then deflated like a punctured balloon. His posture sagged and his eyes drooped.

He looks positively... broken. Shit.

"I understand you want to do more— to be Sharra's friend. But getting too involved will endanger her. Don will set surveillance here to make sure the Foot move off. I promised her my sword in an emergency and I plan to honor that commitment, but that's the extent of it."

Leonardo met each of their eyes to make sure he was heard.

Donatello blinked but didn't say a word, either for or against this plan. He silently surveyed the group with hooded eyes, keeping his thoughts to himself.

That's not a good sign. When Don goes silent he's usually considering acting on his own. Or searching for loopholes...

Without an argument to counter though, there wasn't much for Leo to do but wait for Donatello to make a move or voice his opinion.

He paused for Raph's nod, then said, "Come nightfall we are going home and Sharra is staying here. No one is to reveal the location of the lair. That's not a request, it's an order. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," Michelangelo muttered. He laid back down and pulled the covers up high. "I'm gonna crash 'til then."

Sharra removed her headphones when Michelangelo dramatically burrowed back into the blankets and the rest of them dispersed as much as space would allow.

"Mikey?" she asked, glancing around at his family in confusion, "Is everything... okay?"

Her brows drew together in worry as her gaze returned to him, clearly aware something was off. The expression was so like Michelangelo's first blissful vision of her, it took his breath away.

Slowly, he forced himself to refill his lungs through his nose, memorizing Sharra's unique scent.

Not that anything on earth could shake that from my mind.

His whole body was attuned to her now. How she looked. How she felt wrapped around him at night. Her slim hand in his own.

Gazing into her dark eyes, he couldn't imagine leaving and returning to life in the sewers without her. He literally could not picture it. He tried, and the image was nothing but a big black depressing blank.

Why can't Leo see what I see?

Sharra deserved their compassion, their protection, their affection—more than anyone else.

Even Raph agreed with me...

Her expression faltered and Mikey realized, not only had he not answered her, he was still scowling.

Don't want her to think she makes me unhappy!

He quickly rearranged his mouth into a tired smile.

"Yeah, babe," he replied, "I'm just beat."

How am I supposed to tell her? 'Specially since it's something I don't want to do!

I mean, I'm sure she realized when she reached out to dad, he'd want to take me home, but I bet she thought she'd have to help me return. And then she might visit while I was recovering, or at least we would stay in contact...

"Can I get anything for you?" she asked. "Juice? Something else to eat?"

"Nah. I'm gonna rest for a bit. Thanks though."

Cautiously, she nodded. She was being extremely tentative and Mikey didn't like the change in her personality. Before his family arrived she was confident, caring for him in a take-charge sort of way. Simply bringing him things he needed and insisting he sleep by joining him in the covers and soothing him with her warmth.

Now he was worried about her. Though she would always be beautiful in his eyes, she looked like hell. Until she almost keeled over, he hadn't understood just how much she deprived herself to provide for him.

And then she fought off my brothers...

"You should try to relax too," he reminded her. "And eat more. You're healing too."

Her eyes were ringed in dark circles. Her face was way too pale and still tense, uncertain. He wanted to throw back the edge of the blankets and invite her back to bed. To take her in his arms, spoon around behind her, and promise everything would be all right.

To protect her until she is whole again.

As if reading his mind, Sharra's gaze bounced around gauging his brothers' attentions before casting Mikey a look so filled with exhausted longing his heart faltered.

She desperately needed to rest. But she did not trust his family. She wouldn't sleep while they were here.

Which means I'll never hold her again.

Suddenly, Mikey wished they hadn't come.

The afternoon passed in relative serenity. Michelangelo didn't fall back to sleep, because he didn't want to miss any time left with Sharra. Instead, he watched her through partially closed eyes, analyzing her interactions with his siblings.

She stayed away from Leo and Raph. Mostly, she lurked in front of her monitor. Donnie though, hung around an awful lot.

He spent time lamenting over the remains of Mikey's phone. He fiddled with the bits—most likely just to keep his hands occupied—and occasionally exclaimed over something interesting Sharra had altered. He babbled at her for 20 minutes about signal oscillation, or some such, and looked impressed after her explanation.

Michelangelo was never sure what Don meant when he went off on these quirky little tirades, but Sharra understood every word. She smiled at his questions, answered them in equally unintelligible techno-babble, and relaxed more in his presence.

Donnie is working hard to build her trust.

The realization made Mikey uneasy. Not that he didn't want her to know his brothers but...

Why? If Leonardo has his way, we'll never even visit.

Donatello eventually coaxed Sharra into a more secluded corner. Michelangelo turned restlessly to keep them in view, though the motion put weight on his injured side.

Mikey's unease intensified as Don spoke fast at too low a volume to understand from across the room. He couldn't quite make out what the genius was up to, but when Donnie asked Leo and Raph to turn away, his suspicions of something afoot were confirmed.

Donatello reached a hand slowly towards Sharra's face. His fingers curled, caressing the soft underside of her chin as his thumb settled in the hollow under her lip. He tilted her face up to meet his, as his lips parted and his chocolate eyes became molten, staring into hers.

No.

Sharra stood still. She didn't resist or draw away. In fact, she appeared entranced, staring right back, her eyes wide.

Even if she wants it, wants him, he wouldn't. Not when we aren't coming back. He wouldn't lead her on. I mean he's never been with a girl and he likes to experiment, but not like this. Donnie doesn't deliberately hurt people. He wouldn't... break my heart.

Donatello's other hand rose toward the side of her face, ready to cup her cheek; and an unidentifiable sound escaped from Michelangelo's throat. Part choked sob and part strangled moan, the sound attracted immediate attention. Four heads swiveled in his direction and four pairs of eyes studied him with varying levels of concern. That's when Mikey realized Don wasn't reaching for her face.

The genius held something in his other hand. A penlight. And while his brown eyes were intensely focused, no fire burned in them. They only held the distinct glint of medical abstraction.

Sharra pushed Donatello's arm out of the way to see Michelangelo better.

"Mikey?"

The apprehension in her sweet voice rocked him back on his shell.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain? You shouldn't be laying on that shoulder!" She turned back to Don quickly. "Go check on him, please? He might need more medication. My exam can wait."

Exam? That's why he's been trying to get closer to her.

Michelangelo twitched in consternation. "No! No. I- I don't need anything."

Just my head examined. Geez' what was that?

"I'm good. Just turned wrong. Sorry to interrupt..."

He pulled the blankets around his head in embarrassment, leaving himself the smallest opening to observe as Don proceeded.

After a few seconds, Donnie shrugged and gripped Sharra's face again to analyze her eyes with the light. When he finished, he carefully ran his fingers through her hair, checking her scalp for lacerations.

Mikey's stomach rolled. Donatello had scanned her earlier. If he was now doing a hands-on examination something was seriously wrong.

I didn't smell any blood on her, but what if she has a concussion from hitting Raph? Isn't that like brain damage?

Michelangelo only knew the term because Don evaluated them for head trauma every time someone sustained a major blow to the skull; an unfortunately common occurrence in their line of work. Luckily, none of them had experienced anything quite so catastrophic, but their heads were sturdier than average.

Mikey couldn't remember what signs Don told them to watch for. And the thought Sharra might have injuries that simple rest and food wouldn't cure made Michelangelo squirm.

She shrank away from Donatello's hands and Michelangelo clenched his teeth.

She does have a head injury. What do we do? Take her to a hospital? Call an ambulance?

In less than two seconds his heart rate and breathing skyrocketed.

Calm down, Mikey.

He forced himself to take one deep breath, then another.

Take a chill pill. Don understands this stuff.

Donatello was an absolute stickler for protocol when it came to health issues. Usually, that trait bothered Michelangelo because it meant sitting out, of a fight or fun, long after he felt better. But today he had never been so glad of a fact in his life.

If he doesn't think she's well enough to leave unattended, Leo will have to listen.

Donnie patted Sharra's shoulder and shook his head, but Mikey couldn't tell if that indicated her brain was okay. Because at that moment she lifted her sweater.

Mikey's pep-talk phased into fierce anger—at himself. She only raised the edge about six inches, just enough to let Don inspect her side. Her fair skin was covered in mottled bruises.

That must have happened when I fell on her.

Donnie ran a delicate finger over the sensitive area, probing her ribcage. Sharra didn't flinch this time. She gasped and smacked his hand away.

Mikey stifled a groan—stuffing a blanket-covered fist in his mouth.

I BROKE something!

Don pulled some elastic tape from his waistband pouch and started stabilizing her ribs. He described what he was doing, going over the process several times. And he gave her the role, so she could redo the procedure herself every few days.

Mikey closed the gap in the covers, now fighting full-blown nausea.

She must be in tremendous pain. Why didn't she say anything?

Crushing her was an accident, and when she behaved as if the damage was minimal, Mikey was able to assuage his guilt. But seeing her with bandages on her neck, bumps on her head, and broken ribs— it was too much.

Maybe... Maybe Leo is right. We should stay away.