"I Remember You" -- full fanfic ft. Splinter & Michelangelo

[Mindy]

Chapter 26b :: Two


*blush* Another long chapter clocking in at over 3,000 words. It also contains some adult humor and situations.

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6154479/29/I_Remember_You

[Mindy]

Another very long chapter! Chapter 26c :: One reeling in at over 4,000 words. Whew! No wonder it's taking me so long to finish chapters


http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6154479/30/I_Remember_You

[Mindy]

strong language, kids!!!

Chapter 27 :: Baby


“Rosie, get down. There's not enough room up here. Sorry, sweetie.”

Reluctantly, Rosie the frustrated kitty vacated the premises. Mike almost heard a huff coming from his cat. When he reclined back on the bed, he smiled over at his slumbering partner. She was incredibly cute while she slept. The holiday music humming in the background embraced the sweet moment.

He knew the situation was beyond weird, beyond anything that held some kind of sense in his world. He never left the room anymore (not that he did much anyways). He could feel himself losing more weight, and it was odd that his body never had an appetite. A small part of his mind knew he was being trapped, but these feelings soothed Mike. She never ignored him; she never left him, never screamed, never ridiculed, and never made him sad.

“What are you thinking?” her foreign accent bellowed. He still didn't know where she was from originally; he had been meaning to ask her.

Mike titled his head and smiled.

“I promised you, Michelangelo,” she groaned as she sat up and peered down at him, “that I would give my situation more thought.”

“And?” He heard Rosie scamper under the bed, still in a huff.

“I think I will just visit with my daughter. I will not take her from Ms. Becker.”

Mike rubbed her cheek. “Good.”

She leaned down to kiss him on his forehead. “It is almost the Christmas holiday that you said you loved. You should see your family.”

His blue eyes fluttered. “Will you be here when I get back, Mei? We've been inseparable for days.”

While she beamed down at him and squeezed his fingers, Mike realized that even after being with her for those exclusive days, he still didn't know too much about her. All I knew was that he felt safe and comfortable.

It was ages before she responded, which frightened him, but when she did speak, her voice remained softened. “As long as you want me to be here, I will.”

The bed springs creaked as he rose from his pillow. Rosie scurried from the bed and hissed at Mike. He knew he was in big trouble with that feline.

Rosie's reddish-orange fur became less muted and back to its original, bright color as his mental haze dissipated. Mike looked behind him. She wasn't there anymore. He could see clearly now but his chest felt heavy.

“Rosie,” he began and undressed out of his whiffy garments, “I'll make it up to you, kitty, promise.”

The cat repeatedly clawed her itchy tail. The holiday music streaming from the stereo ceased.

“You won't tell anyone, will you?”

Rosie stopped, shook her head, and gazed at her master.

“Don't tell anyone that I may be sleeping with the enemy.”





Abigail held the paper, but her hands shook and almost dropped it. The unexpected raging cold wind didn't make anything better.

“Don't want to do this,” she stammered and straightened her loose hat.

“Follow my lead,” Emyrs chuckled and tucked her daughter's hat firmly on the head. “I love your hair so much, Abby, but it's a pain with headgear.”

Abby sighed. “I hear that every winter.”

“We might have to trim it a bit, around the sides, and some off the top.”

“Don't talk about my hair like it's a bush outside our cottage!”

Emyrs laughed at her testy daughter whose arms were flailing, and the wind knocked off her hat (again). While Abby moaned and whined more, Emyrs picked up the headpiece and stuffed it in her own pocket.

“Skip the hat. That rat's nest will keep you warm.”

Abigail's flaming pupils banished her mother and wondered over Irma's apartment complex. It was littered with silly holiday decorations around the windows. Pedestrians milling back and forth, the numerous honks and vehicle sounds from the street, and holiday music trickling from the shops intensified her anxiety.

Mother wanted to go caroling. They were going to die horrible deaths on a New York City street, at night, and a million miles from their German graveyard plots.

“We are not going to die, Abigail.”

Abby swallowed. “I think I just saw my first attacker. He had one evil look and I hadn't hummed a note yet.”

Emyrs flapped her music sheets in the wind. “We practiced, over and over! You sounded great!”

“Casey didn't think so.”

Her mother frowned slightly. “Casey was just joking. He can't even sing a birthday song, either.”

“We're tourists! And we're going to SING?!”

Her red hair was on fire. Those arms could almost lift her into the air now, they were motoring so hard.

“Then go home.”

Abigail calmed down and lost her breath for a second. She replayed her mother's bitter words in her head and was speechless.

“Go home if you don't want to participate. You know the way.”

There was Mother's mood shift again. She studied her music sheets and acted like Abigail had already turned to go back to Casey's. This radical change was becoming more frequent now.

“I'll join in,” Abigail's voice flew in the wind. “But I'm not going to protect you from tomatoes.”

She peeked over at her mother, who still wasn't smiling, not even at Abigail's terrible attempt at humor. It was going to be a long, traumatic evening.






The store chime rang through the building. Raphael trolled to the back freezer, snagged a six pack, grabbed munchies on his way to the counter, and slammed his purchases in front of the cashier.

“Good evening to you, Raph,” she snapped. Her fingers tapped away on the register.

“Megan,” his voice rolled as he slid his fingers in his pocket. “I got a bone to pick with you and your bleached headed girlfriend.”

Megan didn't answer.

“I saw what you did to my friend today. I thought she was telling a fib some weeks ago about you two trying to cheat me.”

She glared at Raph and continued ringing up the purchases.

“Thought you girls were cool with me and my type.”

Steam rising from his face, Raphael dug out his cash and handed it to her.

“Don't mess with my friends. Aight? I don't mess with yours. That was the agreement.”

Megan consciously covered up her lavender basilisk tattoo while bagging his groceries.

“Raphael?”

He turned to see Lisa standing in front of the door with the store chime fading. Her flirty smile disappeared when she saw his sour face.

“Hi,” he said and looked away from her.

Megan scooted his bag on the counter towards him and nodded. Raphael heavily watched her as he stomped to the door.

“Bye?” Lisa asked as she saw her friend hastily leave the store. She wanted to go after him but when he continued walking away from the building, she felt it was unnecessary. She grabbed her loaf of bread and tried to be cheerful towards the crossed cashier.

“He's your friend?” Megan asked.

“Yeah. We've hung out a bit. He's not too bad, just pouts.”

Megan bagged the bread and returned the change. “Thanks and watch your back out there.”

As Lisa left, she didn't like the way the cashier had said those words. Lisa had seen the cashier many times since Lisa shopped there frequently, but something didn't feel right: the looks on their faces when she entered the store, Raphael barely saying a word to her when he usually talked her head off, and cashier's words that sounded more like a threat than a goodbye.

When she got home, she quickly put in a sick call to work, just to be safe. Umeko would have to use the front door in the morning. All of the windows were going to be locked tight.





April, Shadow, and Irma's family listened to the singing Germans outside their window. It was magically catastrophic at first, but as Abigail's voice warmed up, the harmony lightly blended. “Jingle Bells” was a mess; their accents and tempos flew around the place. “Winter Wonderland” almost made Shadow cry. “The Twelve Days of Christmas” felt like twelve years and it was mostly Emyrs singing since Abigail lost her place on the sheet. They had to stop after that to get some water and explain to a passing cop that they were almost finished with their racket. It was hilarious to see Abigail hiding behind her mother.

“Sing Silent Night as the closing number,” April requested. “In German.”

“Yes, in your own language, please!” complained Irma. She bounced her hyper son on her hip.

“May we sing Rudolph for the kids first?” Emyrs screamed from the busy street.

“Just--” April stopped to scream louder, “Just Stille Nacht! We'll be good after that! Come on up!”

Emyrs and Abigail fumbled on ground level. They had to sing that one from memory since the sheet was missing, and the half-breed's arms flapped knowing that she had to sing in German, too.

Mike was watching the spectacle from a sparse crowd. He grinned when Emyrs whacked her daughter on the shoulder to keep Abby from flapping anymore. They were fighting in the German language, too. That was cute. And loud.

They stood to attention and cleared their throats.

Stille Nacht! Heil'ge Nacht!
Alles schläft; einsam wacht


Abigail warbled through her lyrics. Hold steady, little lady, Mike wished for her.


Nur das traute hoch heilige Paar.
Holder Knab' im lockigen Haar


Mike hummed along with the tune and remembered last Christmas when Leonardo and Raphael re-enacted the “Night before Christmas” for the family. They lost a bet earlier that month against Casey and Donatello.


Schlafe in himmlischer Ruh!


Emyrs hit the high note beautifully; Abigail remained low key. She got it, she got it.



Schlafe in himmlischer Ruh...


The performance wasn't all that bad; the crowd even clapped. When Emyrs asked if anyone wanted them to sing the next verse, nobody answered. People even scattered away. Mike walked up to the singers and gave them each a hug.

“You can sing it inside,” he recommended, and he had to help Abigail into the building and up the stairs.





“Josh!”

Irma caught the tumbling toddler before he fell onto a scooting Shadow.

April made a quick glance into the living room to check on her daughter and then unlocked the front door. She was very surprised to see Mike with the two Singing Tourists.

“Good show, ladies!” April teased and then promptly hugged Mike in a tight embrace.

“My shoulder still hurts from Mother's slap,” Abby moaned and pulled off her coat. Emyrs shrugged and placed her coat on the rack.

Checking Mike over from head to toe, April frowned. “You don't look so hot, Mike. Have you been eating?”

“Not really.”

“I know you can cook for yourself. Are you sick?”

“No.”

Irma peeked around the corner. “I know what it is!”

Mike gave a friendly sigh. He knew what was coming.

“It's a girl!” Irma squealed.

“A girl?” April, Emyrs, and Abigail spoke in unison.

“But I thought Rosie was your only girl!” April goaded, her brown curls bouncing. She looked much more lively than she had in months, Mike noticed.

“Rosie is mad at me right now. No comment,” he chuckled and joined the ladies in the living room. Josh, Irma's half-breed son, was reaching for Irma's pink straw hat. When Shadow saw her Uncle Mike, her butterball body went slick as lightning across the floor towards him.

“Keep your hands off that, son!” desperate Irma squeaked and popped Josh's hand. The toddler's gray eyes flickered and he went back to reaching for the hat.

April dusted snow off Abigail's fluffy hair. “Shadow knows more words, Mike! She says baby, Josh, no, and stop.”

“And most of that is from me,” groaned Irma who slapped her son's hand again. He plopped on the floor and remained still.

Mike gave Shadow a mini-bear hug and laughed at her. “I missed you the most, pretty girl.”

She rubbed her hands on his face and cooed, “Boo.”

“Boo!” he whispered back to her; she chortled.

Abigail had been watching the toddler Josh sitting and peering at everyone in the room. He wasn't the most attractive kid, being a half bred turtle and human, but his mannerisms were fascinating. Since he was unique, he had to adapt differently from other children. Abigail knew that melancholic existence all too well.

She crawled over to Josh and put out her hands.

“Hi. I'm Abby.”

Josh nibbled on his finger and slapped her hand, like he was giving her high five or reprimanding her.

“Now hold out your hand,” Abby demonstrated and extended his chubby hand. She gave him a high five back with a wide smile.

“Thank you!”

Josh didn't know what in the world was going on with that crazy-looking red head who still had white powder all in her hair.

“Mike, tell us about this girl!” April sat with her elbows on her knees, waiting literally on the edge of her seat. “Can we meet her?”

He hesitated. “She's a bit shy.”

Shadow's hand kept bopping his face, which disabled him from speaking about the girlfriend subject. He was hoping April would get the hint and drop it. None of the ladies would really understand because he didn't really have a clue about it either.

When Josh became uninterested in Abigail's pattycake game, she looked back to her quiet mother. Emyrs was inspecting her hands and then rolled up her right pants' leg to check on an old wound. Again, Abigail knew, her mother wouldn't act this anti-social. If there was a talk about babies or girlfriends, Emyrs would be in the middle of it.

Her guardian looked up to meet her daughter's stare and promptly stuck out her tongue and smiled. A little better, Abby eased.

“Stop by on Christmas eve, Mike. We'll feed you and your lady,” invited Irma, complete with the cheekiest grin. Mike impassively grinned back and nodded.

Josh crawled towards Emyrs and used her legs to stand on his two feet. Irma shouted for him, but he stuck to Emyrs' leg like glue.

“Go back to your mother. She's calling for you!” she teased. Only Abby noticed the sarcastic tone of voice her mother used.

Josh savagely bit into Emyrs' leg, and with a yelp, she hurled him across the room. The toddler gracefully landed on his bottom and didn't make a sound for some moments. Irma screamed for him and was on the verge of tears. That's when her kid had to cry as well.

Everyone checked on Josh, who was unhurt and only scared by the events. Abigail dashed to her mother who promptly pushed her away.

“Aren't you going to say you're sorry?!” Irma screamed without looking back at Emyrs. “You threw a baby across the room!”

“I'm sorry that your kid can't fucking tell I'm not a piece of food!” Emyrs spewed and limped out of the room. She continued ranting in German and it very much made her daughter blush. She followed her mother out of the apartment and helped her down the stairs. When they made it to the bottom, Emyrs plopped on the last step.

“Goddamn that kid! Look at this!”

He got her really good, too. Abigail had noticed when she played with him that his teeth were much more developed than Shadow's. The bite wound was puffy, very red, and blood oozing out of it.

“Can you make it to Casey's?” Abby asked. “I can clean you up there.”

Emyrs angrily whacked the side of the banister, almost hitting her daughter in the process. “If I had my trouser leg down, it wouldn't be so damn bad. shell, shell!”

“Come,” Abby whispered. “We're going home now.”

Her mother persisted the ranting, even as they hobbled to the front door. Abigail heard April's shouts from the stairs, but Emyrs demanded for her not to pay attention and keep moving.

Abigail insisted on going to the hospital, but her mother viciously declined. Every other word was a curse, and she fluctuated between German and English, spewing and shaking. Abigail was walking on glass and decided not to say a word the entire trip “home”.

“You bit Flodina one time. Age three,” Emyrs said as she groaned and stopped at the front steps to the apartment. “She whacked you a good one and you never did it again. You had wild moments just like that kid had. Petting you wasn't going to solve anything.”

“But you threw the kid across the room.”

“He didn't orbit like all of you are saying. If he tries to bite someone when he gets older, he'll get a hard lesson in life. Somebody is going to knock the crap out of him.”

“That's not your place, is it, Mother? To teach him.”

“Everybody is your teacher!” Emyrs shifted and grabbed onto the railing. “We have to live together as a society, as one.”

“But Miss Irma was scared. If somebody threw me across a room, would you not get angry?”

Emyrs was on her feet now and declined any more help. “That's the difference between me and the world, I guess. I can nurse this wound. Go to bed.”

“Mother..”

The Eye occurred. Man, was it scary in the dark. Abigail couldn't and didn't want to argue with her mother anymore. The two parted ways once they reached the residence, and Abigail had to do one thing before she tucked herself in for the night. While her mother was in the upstairs bathroom, Abigail checked Emyrs' medicine bottles. The tablets looked okay and it seemed like her mother was taking the pills, but her behavior made no sense at all. She took a couple of tablets and tucked them away in her carry bag for further investigation.

[Mindy]

Chapter 28 :: Night Train


A hearty, guttural blend of music trickled from the living room. She hadn't seen anybody when she and Abigail entered but then it was pretty dark, and her leg throbbed like crazy. Maybe it was going to separate itself from her body and destroy the city of New York.

She hissed, gnawed, and slammed her fist onto the bathroom sink. That fist was beyond numb now, seeing way too much action in one evening. Emyrs didn't care about it. She did care, however, about the weird color her wound was turning and how the alcohol was eating her flesh like a rabid animal.

The more she cleaned the injury, the angrier she got. Angry that her finances were frozen, frustrated at her block headed daughter, sizzling at her best friend (and more importantly, house-sitter) back home who wasn't answering the telephone or returning her messages, completely baffled by her wayward crush, trashy discolored snooty cashiers, and a kid with a dinosaur's grip.

Despite more awful feelings grilling in her brain, her throat hummed the metal tunes coming from the living area. That song was popular when she was …. twenty two. No, twenty three. Twenty-something, she shrugged. Her mother blasted it out of the stereo more than she did, and Emyrs couldn't get away from it. It played at Flodina's house and Flodina's car and Flodina's work. When Emyrs didn't think she heard it a trillion times, the song exploded from the bar, too. Good thing its popularity died a couple of months after that and only to be replaced by something else more annoying. Her tolerance level had built a solid defense, she supposed, since nothing else really got under her skin after that song.

Five gallons of blood and a floor that resembled a war zone later, Emyrs gained her composure back and finished just in time to head to bed. She turned off the bathroom light and realized that she couldn't see her way back to the basement. The mood wasn't there to turn the light back on and fiddle with any nonsense so she remembered the layout of the room and felt her way through it.

“You better turn to the left or you'll--”

“Son of a ---!!”

The sharp edge of an object jabbed her in the side. At least it wasn't her leg. She froze and bit her tongue. And her guardian angel flicked on a lamp light.

Raphael waved from his place on the couch and slightly turned to look at her. “I thought I was having a bad night. Hop over here and grab a beer. On me.”

Emyrs looked at the basement door and could feel her soft bed just inches from her aching body. Beer or bed? It repeated in her head many times. That fluffy pillow or that bubbling drink? Bubbling, soothing beverage that could knock out a few of her pains.

It didn't take long to reach the couch.

“The hell happened to your leg? Did you wrestle a gator? A cab driver? Casey?”

She winced as her body flopped into the sectional. He leaned over and looked at her wound up close.

“He tends to bite, ya know.”

“Kinky,” she blankly commented and lifted her leg onto the coffee table. Temporary relief.

“Put this cold beer on it.”

Emyrs took the can, opened, and chugged it.

Raph scoffed and toasted his can towards her. “That'll work, too.”

The festival of beer chugging commenced. They subconsciously competed with the other, but Raphael beat her by a few measly drops. He had a head start, after all. She was out of practice.

“Do you have this song on repeat?” she asked and covered her mouth as a little burp erupted.

“Yeah. I like it. Want me to change it?”

Her empty beer can clinked on the coffee table. “Play track three.”

She held her head back and closed her eyes. A little beep trilled from the stereo, and she no longer had to suffer through the Timeless Headache.

Raphael blurted, “This song is cool. Reminds me of the times Leo and I had midnight runs.”

“Sounds like you miss it.”

He cracked open another can. “I do, but don't tell him that. Want another?”

“I think one will be fine for tonight,” she rejected and didn't open her eyes. “It felt good to have a drink after a long time, though.”

“It's your birthday, old lady. Guzzle it.”

She held out her hand and a chilled container instantly fell into it. That was easy.

He switched off the lamp; a tiny amount of light fell through the window. Snow dribbled outside in the city, Track Three performed a dynamite guitar solo, and her leg's tremble was simmering into a dull ache.

Raphael smacked his lips. “I think I started up a gang war tonight. What happened to you?”

“I almost got arrested for bad caroling, and I punted a child across the room for gnawing into my leg like a piece of meat.”

Track Three ended and shifted into Track Four. She wiggled her foot on the table in the silence.

“You win,” he finally snickered, and she madly chuckled.

“The gang war sounds pretty promising.”

A bag rustled in the darkness. “Track four blows balls. Can we change it?” Raphael munched loudly on some crisps.

“It's a good backtrack to some stories.”

He garbled through a full mouth, “What kind of stories?”

“Anything. Anything to keep me from chopping off my leg and throwing it out that window.”

She felt a plastic bag tap her shoulder.

“You want some?” His voice was subdued as he swallowed his food. Her tummy growled, but it clicked in her head that she sent Abigail to bed without any food.

“I'm a terrible parent,” she sighed. “I'll skip, thanks.”

From the way he crumbled up the bag, it sounded like a train running through the room. She saw his figure leave the couch and head to the bathroom. After listening to Track Four, she agreed that it blew balls. Track Five was taking its sweet time to play.

He returned to the couch, turned on the lamp light, and had a first aid kit in his grasp.

“Give me that leg,” he snipped, unwrapping her sloppy bandages. “And you're not a terrible parent. Not that I've seen.”

Emyrs jerked slightly when her male nurse slammed her leg onto his lap. She wanted to remind him that she wasn't one of his brick-house brothers, but the job would get completed in the end. Aches, bruises, scrapes, and all. Oh, and track four had ended. That part of the agony was over.

“What's the biggest regret in your life so far, Em?”

The music flowed with her thoughts. “Actually I have a funny story. This is even better than my regrets.”

“Yeah?” He peered into her wound and muttered something about it.

“Don't shack up with a married person.”

The nurse cackled. “Lay it on me.”

She shuffled into a new position and gave a listen to Track Five. It was skipping. “I was twenty-one, shy, and stupid. Hot guy and I hooked up. He was much older and said that he and his wife had separated.”

“You fell for that?” He was now cleaning the wound, gently cleaning at that. She couldn't believe that he had a soft touch.

“I fell for that. Young and stupid. He was nice, hot, handsome, tall, opened my doors, and..”

Raphael poured alcohol into her wound; that made her yelp. “And he eventually opened you, right?”

“Yeah,” she moaned and laughed. “And it was fantastic.”

 “But the wife didn't think it was a good idea,” he teased and began wrapping the leg.

“Get this!” Emyrs started vividly reenacting the incident. “She slammed on his front door one day and screamed that she knew I was in there and 'the b****' was about to die. I had never heard of the things she called me on that day.”

They were both laughing now.

“She sounded like a wailing monkey, no kidding. And I had to escape somehow. I didn't even get my clothes on all the way before I had to dive out that window! And I think I missed it the first time.”

“Dumbass,” her nurse chastised and flattened the wrap.

“So, moral of my story: ask to see the divorce papers.”

“Did the guy ever come looking for you?”

The cd player was officially frozen. No music now. “He tried to call me, but that wife of his scared me. He did divorce her some time after that and came looking for me again.”

“You go back to him?”

“Hell no,” she waved her hand to dismiss the very idea of it, “I moved on. I didn't date for the longest because I was so traumatized.”

Raphael roared and thought of his friend's flimsy body trying to make it through a window without her clothes on and some crazy wench hollering obscenities at the front door. He didn't think she was the type to get in trouble like that.

“I should let you read my journal one day, Raphael. I'll send some stories back to you when I get home. You'll get a kick out of it.”

“You ever read April's?” he cocked one eye at her.

“Briefly. And she let me read it by the way. It was a marvelous tribute to you and your siblings.”

He barked, “I'll send you the true accounts one day.”

He noticed the cd player was quiet and shut it off. His laughter had subsided.

She noticed that he hadn't put down her leg and was still holding on to it. It did feel a little better after his help.

“Em,” he whispered, “Watch your back wherever you go. I hope that I didn't screw anything up by what I did today.”

Her leg was placed gently back on the coffee table.

“Need help going to bed?” Raphael's face fell extremely dark.

“No. I'm okay.”

The leg was a little heavy, but as she started walking again, it eased up.

“Happy birthday, Ms. Becker. I won't see you for a little while, but anytime you need me, just call.”

He had already sat back in his old spot and opened another can.

“I hope it'll be before I leave. Don't go hiding too well from me.”

No response from the couch.

“Good night.”

When she opened the basement door, she heard the lamp switch click.

He was back in the darkness again. Emyrs had just left the room, and his eyes bore a hole in Mike's bedroom door. Ever since he returned from the store, an unearthly feel penetrated from that area. Raphael kept the privacy around his body and wanted to leap at the first thing that came from that room. It was time to open the door. Fear drove his brewing blood and ignited a higher faculty.

A scratching behind the door caused him to furiously swing it open, and if the pungent smells didn't hit him first, it was an angry feline nipping at his ankles.

“Damn. Sorry, Rosie!” he called to her in the dark.

He wasn't a shining example of good hygiene himself, but Mike's room was awful. Raph had been in there a few times, and it was never this bad before. It was a detrimental sign and even more so if a cat couldn't stand to be in it.

A silver wisp quivered in the far left corner of the room, near Mike's bed. Raphael remained in place and waited for it to happen again.

Magic. Supernatural. Illusion.
It looked and felt like it. It had an airy sensation, and if one wasn't in the proper state of mind or had the right amount of training, it could cause some serious troubles, Raphael retained.

And Mike hadn't been in a proper state of mind for a long time.

[Mindy]

Chapter 29 :: Isolation



“What are you doing in my room, Raph?”

His brother's voice was curious but dry.

“Was Rosie scratching on the door again?”

Raphael grabbed on the door handle. He looked back at the spot where the silver streak whistled moments ago and then to his brother, Michelangelo, again.

“Yeah, she was. I don't know where she went.”

Mike immediately activated the overhead light and peeked under the sectional, calling for his pet.

“Mike,” Raphael began, pushing his hands into his trousers and clearing his throat, “stand up and let me see you.”

His blue eyes shot up at Raph's figure in the doorway. “Stand up?”

“I want to see you. On your feet.”

“Okay, Master Splinter,” Mike chuckled and peeked under the sectional, ignoring his brother's wishes. “He used to say that to us all of the time.”

“Yeah, and I'm sayin' it to you now. Get on your feet. I'm not joking, Mike.”

One last look up at his brother and noticing that Raphael was as serious as his tone of voice, Mike got to his feet and outstretched his arms in a cocky manner.

“Good enough, Master?” he laughed. “Now can I go back to looking for my cat?”

“You can tell me why you're not eating.”

“I just ate,” his hands fell back down. “And I feel fine. I might have lost a little bit recently, but..”

“A little bit? You look like a worm,” Raph's voice intensified but never gained volume. “You need to work out and stay in shape. Hunching over that desk isn't good for you. And I'm not criticizing what you do, Bro; you've gone downhill in the last month. Everybody's noticed, even Casey and he's hardly here anymore.”

Rosie jumped on the back of the sectional, swishing her energetic tail. Mike watched the cat groom her paws instead of responding to his brother.

Raphael closed the door behind him and exhaled. “I feel something weird in your room.”

Mike still didn't answer, and Raphael took a good look over his brother's hygiene. The clothes were getting bigger, mismatched (more so than usual), disheveled, and there was a distinct odor coming from Mike's direction, too. It was difficult for Raphael not to show his temper, especially at Mike's lack of acknowledgment, but getting physical or violent wasn't the answer anymore. No more whacking the back of Mikey's head or cut-throat remarks towards popular culture or video games. This was as close to the edge the brothers had ever gotten, and Raphael was more afraid of his sibling losing everything that was dear to him than losing Mike entirely.

“You can stop staring a hole through me, please,” sissed Mike.

It was Raphael's turn to remain silent but steadfast.

Mike slowly continued, “Did you hear about Emyrs and her touchdown? Has she gone to bed?”

Raphael nodded.

“Come here, Rosie,” Mike gestured towards the cat and she leaped into his arms. “Irma is throwing around all kinds of threats. April and I had to calm her down. Didn't appreciate Em leaving like that--”

“I would've kicked that kid through the wall and made it bounce off the street,” Raph crowed. “As long as it's okay, Irma shouldn't puff up like a chicken anymore.”

Mike nuzzled into Rosie's fur and closed his eyes.

“I ain't worried about what other people are doing.” Raphael sat down in his worn spot on the sofa and clapped his hands together. “That's been the problem for so long. My head's been too cloudy.”

“April wants you to talk to Em and bring her to Irma's so they can all settle this problem.” Mike tightly held onto Rosie.

“I'm not getting involved, especially when it's Robo-Irma and her Child that can do no Wrong. I'm getting out of dodge. Too much damn drama.”

“And then you berate me when I want to be alone?” Mike snapped. “But you can do whatever you want?”

“I take care of myself. I may have a few bruises and scratches but I don't look like a starving deer!” There was his temper appearing.

“You know,” triggered Mike as he placed Rosie back on the sectional, “I've been standing here wondering who you remind me of now. The way you talk, the way you move... and it clicked. You are almost Leonardo. ”

Raphael playfully scoffed and released his hands. “No name-calling, Mikey.”

“That's what I'm saying. You've changed. I've changed. I've become a person you don't like, but I'm fine with it.”

“Oh, you're fine with being a hermit? Fine with smelling like a skunk and losing years of hard physical labor and dedication? It pisses me off that you're letting that go to waste!”

“I take that back,” Mike pointed down at him, “You haven't changed. I almost thought you got better there for a second. Look at the beer cans on the table. Is that a whole pack or four?”

“This stupid stuff again,” Raph mumbled and fell back on the sofa. “I don't have that problem anymore! But you goons sure are driving me back to it.”

“Then do what I did! Change it!” His heart raced and his calm disposition dissolved. “I wanted out and I got out. I'm not coming back either.”

“Yeah, you did,” Raphael reaffirmed and hurled his gaze out the window. “And I was jealous. Hurt. And angry. Our kind walks on the streets now, but I would rather stay hidden with my family in the sewer. That's what we are. Just us. Nobody else.”

Raphael's gaze didn't falter, and he soon felt a movement on the couch as Mike joined him. The brothers brooded in silence. The only sound was from Rosie's licks on her fur. In the city air, the snowdrift tarnished the approaching dead of night. For Mike, he could understand Raphael's troubled emotions over a family that was slowly deserting its nest. It was like they were all at a bus stop and each one waiting for a ride to another destination.

In the middle of his brainstorming, a familiar sensation percolated from his bedroom. Mike swallowed a lump in his throat and idly checked to see if his brother was noticing anything. Raphael had closed his eyes but the frown was tightening; it was a good indication that Raphael wasn't anybody's fool.

“I'm going to ask you again, Bro, before I crash through that door and face whatever is in there,” Raph warned without opening his eyes and pointed to the bedroom,  “what the shell is going on? You tell me now.”

Mike froze. He heard Rosie scamper away again.

“Now.” The strain bled through Raphael's teeth.

The icy sensation hummed through the room, and Mike was praying hard that Mei would calm herself down. He could hear her voice, though muffled, and couldn't understand what she was saying to him but hoped she would listen to his pleas. It was a shredded interchange that saw many snowflakes twinkle on the ground.

When Mike felt like he couldn't control the situation anymore was when Mei's turbulence died down. It was a good thing, too, because Raphael was at the door, ready to tear right through it. The frazzled Mike stood on his feet and rubbed his sides, pushing off the forming sweat. Was his brother going to continue the investigation?

April's grandfather clock pealed from the opposite bedroom, resounding through the pressure and easing Mike's rabid ticker.

Raphael turned back to Mike. “It's obvious whose side you're on, Michelangelo, but it's going to have put up a big fight to keep me back.”

He continued as he walked towards the window, lemon eyes blazing, “I'm outta here. I'll check in soon, and you better be alive and well.”

A threat and a farewell, Mike expected, but this one left him feeling very lonely and sinking with guilt.



The sudden encumbrance thrashed her insides, from head to her toenails and every particle imaginable threatened to purge from her body. Her hands couldn't get a good grip on the old couch, and she fell to her knees and tried to keep from waking her peaceful daughter.

Whatever was happening upstairs was suffocating her and was just like at the Thanksgiving dinner but getting progressively worse. She inhaled the couch's musty smell, hoping it would make her succumb to the affliction.

When nothing else happened for a shaky five minutes, Emyrs faltered back to the bed. She had been on her way up the stairs to check on the commotion and promote peace but never made it to the door before the attacks began.

It was time to write a letter back to her friend, Splinter. The routine had been broken: letters were written and sent in a matter of two days, but now it was the fifth day and she couldn't bring a pen to the paper. There was too much confusion tapping her skull. If there was another onslaught, she needed to get a few words out to her confidant and the only one who would understand her predicament.



Dear Kuma,

   Winter is lovely here. I have probably already stated that in my last three letters. It's day five and my breathing is erratic. I have felt this way before. In between lost moments, I am myself. I know myself. While I am mentally here, there is a disturbance upstairs. It's the same kind of feeling when we had Thanksgiving dinner at your place.

   If I can get to your home soon, will you help this old lady? I'm afraid I have seriously screwed up this time. I'm not one to ask for any help. I remember...


She had to stop and stare blankly into the corner.


   ...when I was filing Mother's paperwork and a toddler Abby reached up to the table to see what I was doing. She had been eating chocolate, or cake, or something and smeared it all over the paper. It was adorable and utterly frustrating at the same time since I had been working on the papers for two hours. Did your sons ever do that? I miss my child. I miss my mother.


It was very uncontrollable. The paper became a little damp, and she almost stopped writing but something pressed her fingers forward to abruptly end it.


   I will remember you. Your family is all that I trust. I will see you again. Be well.

[Mindy]

Chapter 31 :: War


Another very long chapter! Read at fanfiction.net : http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6154479/35/I_Remember_You

[Mindy]

Chapter 32 :: Wings


http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6154479/36/I_Remember_You
For Donatello and Leonardo fans who have been waiting to see more of them~

[Mindy]

Chapters 33 & 34

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6154479/37/I_Remember_You

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6154479/38/I_Remember_You

[Mindy]

Ohhhh, man. I have seriously forgot to update this story here. Almost 14 chapters have been written since I stopped updating here. You can check out Chapters 30 - 43 at FF.net. If anybody wants me to post these chapters here, I certainly will (in case some can't access FF).


http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6154479/34/I_Remember_You  - that'll take you straight to Chapter 30.

[BubblyShell22]

Wow, Mindy. I forgot that you update here also. Hey, take your time with it. I should probably put more of my stuff up here, too, but I just never think about it. I do have two of my stories here (A Warrior's Pain and the sequel), but that's it. Maybe, in time, I'll put more stuff up.

[Mindy]

Chapter 44 :: Peace


Synopsis: Broken individuals Raphael and Emyrs shared revealing memories on icy footsteps. Raphael is determined to find more information about Merrick's disappearance and is certain that she's already dead. He asks Angel if she knows anything, and everything points to Hunter Mason. When Raphael returned to the safe house, a gang, involving Scott, had taken Red hostage and threatened to brand him for being a "Non" lover. Raphael was caught off guard for only a moment during the fight, thanks to Emyrs' quick reflexes, and he controlled the situation, but not before the paramedics and the social worker were notified of the incident.

In the Hamato household, Mikey snapped when he found out that nobody had searched for Rosie. Splinter was the only one who could calm him down.

Leonardo and Donatello were reminded of Wu Xing, five ancient Chinese elements from Splinter, who believes it is connected to Mikey's condition. They vow to find Mei Chang and seek more answers from her.




Raphael's best element was in the middle of chaos. It was automatic and structured. Answer the questions and listen to the responses. He was there in body, and that was about it. Static. That's how it all felt with the paramedics whizzing around people like on a race track, lights flashing from the street, eyes reflecting pain and turmoil, and wondering where else in the world he could be at that very moment. He didn't belong to one particular spot in the city, and it seemed like trouble followed in his footsteps. It was second nature now and almost collateral.

"Do you need anything else, sir?" the male paramedic briskly asked, shoveling equipment into their bags.

Back in the house and on the lumpy sofa, Raphael mumbled, "Just a smoke."

"Think my buddy might have one," he laughed and zipped the bag. "Hold on."

The guy could have walked to Alaska and back, for all Raph knew. His wound was patched and he had a happy drug in his system and probably the reason why he was feeling like a balloon. The paramedics were familiar in this rugged area of the neighborhood and unless a bone wasn't broken or brain splattered on the pavement, they took care of you instead of going to the hospital, lovingly called the Bank Breaker. Raphael didn't have a dime to his name and refused medical care. The wound on his leg? Nothing a few stitches and peroxide couldn't handle; he had done it plenty of times before walking on the streets, and the pain eventually died and scars never hurt anybody.

A brown cigar waved in his face, and the paramedic stood behind it with a cheeky grin. "I had to steal it for ya, pal. Enjoy it and stay outta trouble. Don't wanna see ya for a while."

Raphael didn't remember walking from the sofa to the front steps, but he watched the paramedics finish and slowly drive up the street. He lit up the cigar and relished in the fine tobacco, hearing his own inhales and exhales like a turbine. The calmness shaved off the pain's jagged edges and his ears could hear the street again. He had to remember the name of this cigar brand and pick it up in the future.

"Does that make you feel better, Mister Hamato?"

The social worker had been standing in front of him, and he didn't even notice her right away. Man, he must be a little out of it, or high. He puffed a bit of smoke through his lips and nodded. She wore a cowboy hat with a bunch of beads and fluffy things on it; he honestly wanted to laugh at her.

"You're grinning so I guess you are better. I'm glad you are okay and that you were there to save Red. We're going to look for Scott and -"

Raphael screeched his boot against the ice; Shannon flinched but held a tight smile. "I don't think you'll be able to find him soon, but check with Thumbtack's posse and you might. Don't go sniffing too deep."

Shannon waved through the smoke and retreated up the steps, "I'm not scared of these kids, Mister Hamato. I have a job to do, and if I have to use my advanced ninja skills on them, I will!"

"Ninja?" He almost choked.

She karate-chopped his head and whispered, "HA!" She patted his top while her hand was still sitting on it. "Mister Dooney and Charlotte will be leaving with me. I think Red is in safe hands for tonight. If you need ANYthing, call my personal number. If I don't answer, it's because I'm getting my dog's toenails painted. Don't hesitate to call the police if it's an emergency. You heard me, right?"

Raphael scrunched his face at her dog's awful treatment. "Yeah, I gotcha."

The quirky social worker nipped inside, and Raphael enjoyed the last of his cigar in peace. That's all he craved at the moment. Four boys skidded down the sidewalk, jeering and taunting each other, and their goofy natures reminded him of his brothers. Raph missed them, but he wouldn't admit it. He supposed his time babysitting humans for a friend was over and he needed to get back to business. Mikey had asked several times if any of the brothers would consider settling down and having a family now that the world was different, and Raph always had the same answer: no fucking way.

And after these dramatic events at the safe house, the answer definitely hadn't changed.

Charlotte's cheesy-drizzled fingers poked the number pad on the telephone. Emyrs needed to make a call, but Charlotte declared herself the Queen of the Phone, and Emyrs gladly let the sweet woman take charge. "I got the numbers right!" Charlotte squealed and bounced with the cord phone. "It's ringing, too! I love to hear the ring!"

"Hello?" a male voice answered on the other end.

"HELLO!" Charlotte held the phone away from her face and screamed into the phone. "I'm Charlotte! Have you changed your cat's litter box today?"

Emyrs reached for the phone, but Charlotte latched on to it. The male voice, obviously confused, crackled back, "Cat? Hello? What did you say? Who is this?"

"CHAR-LOTTE! I am Charlotte! What is your name!"

Emyrs recognized the voice right away. "Uhh, I'm sorry I can't understand you. You're fading in and out. Something is wrong with your phone. Please call back."

"WAIT!" Emyrs yelped into the phone. "Donatello! It's me, Emyrs!"

"Come again?"

"Emyrs Fernanda Becker!"

Charlotte chimed in also. "Emyrs Fernanda Becker! Emyrs Fernanda Becker! She likes Red and Waffle and speaks all funny!"

"Emyrs?" Don squawked on the other end. "What's wrong with the phone? Hello? Are you there? All I hear is a bunch of static."

Emyrs fumbled with the cord and pushed her finger against the headpiece socket. "Just old. May I - may I speak to Abigail? Is everything okay there? Can you hear me?"

Don hissed at someone on the other end. "Oh yeah. Everything's right as rain, for the most part. Abby already heard me so here she is. Keep your finger on the socket and she'll be able to hear you."

Charlotte blared, "BYE, DONATELLO! Don't drink out of the milk jug!" and left the phone cord swinging in her wake as she stampeded down the hall. Emyrs plunged into a cold chair.

Abby's sweet voice peeped on the other end. "Hello? Mother?"

Emyrs' heart thundered. She almost couldn't answer. "It's me."

"Are you you?"

"I'm me. Is that you?"

Abby sounded like she was about to cry, "You're alive.." and she covered her mouth momentarily and stammered, "..Mother … where are y-you? I want you here."

"I'm coming back to you. You can slap me or-" she wiped a tear out of her right eye and her finger slipped off the cord, "and we'll go home and I'll get help –." She remembered the cord and quickly pushed it back into the receiver.

"What was that, Mother? You faded out."

Emyrs exhaled and smiled into the phone. "Everything will be okay. I'll be home tomorrow. Will you wait for me?"

She heard muffled crying in the background and another male voice, deeper, mumbling something. Meanwhile, down the hallway, Emyrs witnessed Shannon Darling embracing everyone, including Raphael, in a huge bumbling circle. She couldn't understand anything on the phone and cautiously eyed an approaching Shannon.

Water ran on the other end of the phone, and Abby returned. "I met Mei Chang and she'll be able to help you. I can't, I … can't put you in the hospital again, Mother. That's what they'll do to you again.."

Emyrs found herself in the middle of Shannon's bosom, being crushed and listening to Spanish. Between Abby's sobs on the other end and Shannon's glittering smile, Emyrs felt lost in some kind of twilight zone.

"Mother? What's going on? Hello?" Abby perked and sounded ready to fight on the phone.

"Adios, Emyrs Becker!" Shannon pinched Emyrs' cheeks and ballerina-ed away, her cowboy hat whipping with the motion. Emyrs stared at the spectacle for a few moments and returned to the phone.

"We'll find Mei together, Abigail. Together."

"I want to see you tomorrow. Promise me!"

Emyrs met Raph's eyes in the doorway and swallowed, "You have my word. Good night, my love."

Raph reached for the phone and placed it back on the hook. He leaned on the discolored flowery wallpaper and turned back towards the living room. "They're gone. I need to go, Emyrs. Now. I'll take you home."

She wiped away a couple of old tears and nodded, "We'll be okay."

"No, you're going-"

"I can't go back tonight. Red needs me for the last time, and I need a little peace to clear my head."

He peered down at her trembling body, and suddenly he understood what she meant. Peace. What little time a person has for that one word and what it means. "Lock all doors and windows, and move the phone next to you. Call the police if you need to. I won't be reachable."

She stood and patted his shoulder hard. "You need to be careful. Return to your family in one piece. I'm sure they want to see you soon, too." She walked to the sink and grabbed a glass full of water, guzzling it down like it was her last. She expected him to be gone when she turned back around, but there he stood, holding the gun in his palm.

"I'm not an advocate for these things, but you need it. Just don't use it -"

" - unless I have to. Yeah. Years of training taught me that." She dried the dampness on her chin and joined him at the table.

"Here," Raphael hastily grumbled, eager to get the pistol out of his grip. "Stay out of trouble. You're like a magnet for it lately."

She shrugged and checked the pistol's chamber. He thought it was strange how calm she seemed while holding the mechanism.

"I mean it!" He jabbed his finger in her face, which prompted a stern glare from her hazel eyes. He softened, lowered his finger, and watched her investigate the gun. And he kept watching her. She finally stopped and frowned at him after several awkward seconds.

"It's fine. We're going to be fine. You can go now."

Smugness plastered all over his face, he stormed away, repeating loudly, "Lock up!" and the front door slammed behind him.

The chamber made a loud click as Emyrs snapped it. She fondly looked out the small kitchen window. "Be careful, young man."

Her trembling little twelve year old hands almost dropped the cordless phone into the sink. She had retreated to the bathroom for privacy, but someone stood outside the door and brushed inside once the tears and sobs began. Leonardo wiped her face clean and exit as quickly as he appeared. Now, she had some time alone for her thoughts and advance on the dilemma. It had been her mother on the phone, and yes, she was returning home soon. Through her puffy, damp cheeks, a smile spread, and she was the happiest she had been in a while. A giggle trickled through her lips, and she covered her mouth over the sink.

Her bright moment was interrupted by a knock on the door; Leonardo stood behind it and instantly lit up once he saw the calm look on her face. "We're packing up and leaving now. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. The numbers to reach us are on the fridge. Will you be okay?"

She gulped and held back a hiccup. "I'm more than okay. Thank you."

He nodded at her, "Good night," and walked away. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it. Abby was bursting inside at reuniting with Mother, but she had patience and could wait until tomorrow. She didn't know HOW she was going to sleep through the excitement, either.

Nearing sundown, Raphael heavily watched the scores of rich folks, mostly Humans, parade into a conference center, eagerly awaiting their fancy, shiny dinners and waddling in their fat dresses and suits. He didn't care to join any of them; he wasn't jealous of that fact. They were completely devoid of the world around them, of the homeless and starving just around the street corner. Most of them were politicians and the average American's voice, but they knew nothing of street life and what it was like to barely afford a fast food meal. Poor humans were at the bottom of the totem poles, and poor non-humans might as well be carcasses for the vultures to feast.

The medicine had already worn off, making the pain itch and crawl around his leg. He plundered through it and scoped the streets for information. It was just as Angel said to him: Nicholas Hunter Mason and his family had been involved with Merrick's disappearance, and he only gathered that by stitching a handful of clues together. Nobody on the street wanted to talk much. A growl here and a threat there produced little results. If he was feeling up to speed, the back alleys would be littered with broken limbs, but it was his loss and their gain today. All signs definitely pointed to Hunter, who the street rats called "Hun" and rumored that he had a short past with bad blood.

The center doors were soon bolted shut, and Raphael coasted across the street. With every step, his blood grew hotter, despite a chill in the air, and senses more critical, and he was able to push a tiny bubble of doubt out of his mind for the moment. He didn't need anything clouding his mind. The advantages outweighed the bad on that wintry eve.

Security around the building was buzzing, naturally, and he crawled up the next building, a department store, and used it to as a lookout. It was a nuisance to wait for the guards to cycle through their patterns, but the night blossomed over his mission and, now, he could float through the social mingling undetected. He zipped his coat tight and left behind any coins and small items that could give his presence away. For a short moment, he actually chuckled about why April always complained about coins mutating in her purse: a matter so clear to him now that he used currency. The trusty sai below his tattered belt, he kissed a coin, meditated for several seconds, and slithered his way down the building into the hairy situation.

He had never felt more alive than the moment before he successfully evaded the guards through a little side entrance, like a hole in the wall, and was inside the perimeter as the door ticked shut behind his keen footsteps. In their scattered drones, the guards were still completely unaware.

Raphael had dropped in the supply room, an area currently of very little activity. He petted his proverbial good luck and shuffled through mountains of boxes and heavy bags, careful not to bump into anything and torpedo the attempt. A doorway to another room was only inches away from him and behind it, he could hear a lot of kitchen grunts and calls. He scooted behind a shelf near the exit and gave a little more time to scope the joint. Strangely, Raphael was reminded of when the public first called his family a "team of terrapin ninjas" when they mostly did rescue missions and followed a strict code of honor. They didn't always follow the code back in the early days and actually had missions like the one he was doing: espionage, sabotage, and... assassinations but obviously the public didn't know about that. Did he feel any guilt? No. At least he had direction and stability. It had been a life he thought was long gone but was creeping back into reality tonight. His cheeks elevated and excitement flickered in his fingertips. Ready to roll! Ready to do or die.

Nobody had stepped into the room in the last half hour. The noise was dying down a little, too, so he peeked through the doors and only saw a couple of cooks barreling around the stoves. Down a slick, narrow corridor presented another exit and was probably the entrance into the dining area. Panning to his right and left, the coast was finally clear, and he moved with the grace of silk through the swinging doors, passing by a row of stoves and the shiniest cutlery and bowls he had ever seen, and behind the wall, adjacent to a large bank of sinks. Again, not a soul in sight. He could swiftly cross each section and duck behind the giant cutting tables near the front. If somebody barged in before then, the sinks could provide a good hiding spot, providing he wasn't in clear sight down the corridor. Everybody was busy in the dining area or out back taking a breather, maybe. Good opportunity to make a break for it!

[Mindy]

(continued)



When he reached the last wall right before the cutting tables, a crowd of waiters barged through the new exit, complaining about their customers and general nonsense. Raphael swept under the closest table before the staff manned the battle stations, and he endured a boring few minutes of mumbles and grumbles. One guy at his table even coughed up heavy mucus and hacked it into the nearby sink. Delicious, the green ninja groaned. The place wasn't any better than a greasy burger joint!

By minute ten and growing antsy, Raphael skated under two more tables and by the time he reached the third, a worker dropped a utensil before he could reach the fourth, and final, one. Raphael stopped breathing for a few seconds as the guy bent down and picked up the knife without looking under the table. Success, Raph resumed his breathing again, but something else plopped on the ground. He waited for the next round, but it seemed like the guy hadn't noticed. Raph took a closer look: a wallet. A really stuffed wallet, too. He snatched it without thinking and peeked inside. His eyes bulged at the abundance of hundred dollar bills, and the opportunity was right there to snatch a few. Would the guy even miss a few hundred with all of the bills he had? He switched to a college ID photo and scoffed at a owl eyed, dark skinned, frizzy hair guy looking back at him. James Carter. What was a college student doing with that much money anyways? He looked like a sniffy little nerd with a talent for taking bad photos. Leonardo's disciplinary voice buzzed in Raph's head, and he snorted, borrowed one of the bills, and slipped the wallet back near Carter's feet. Raph had to be sure to spend the money before his righteous brother found out about it.

Time to move on. He needed a closer look through the doors before making his way through it and dove under a nearby table, hoping to get the golden opportunity soon. Right on cue, a staff member opened the door and KEPT it open, too, talking back at someone in the dining room. There were the registers and another employee area behind two counters before the row of fancy tablecloths. Soothing music streamed from the area, probably not the best backdrop for what he was doing, but a nice melody anyways. He realized he was clenching his jaw tight and relaxed again as the employee shuffled into the kitchen.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Your attention, please!" a sharp male voice crackled under a microphone from the area. Ohhh, perfect, Raph cheered in his head; the lights would dim and employees should stop moving. In fact, he noticed the staff's feet marching through another exit. Another break, he assumed.

Another few seconds crawled by with the announcer outside greeting the crowd and blah blah blah. Raphael braced himself for another dive through the swinging doors, and then BAM! An employee came out of nowhere and dropped every dish from her hands. She fussed and whined, and he used her as a scapegoat to evade the kitchen and wiggle into the dining room's darkness. He found solace under a counter with no one present. They were all shuffling around the kitchen door, whispering harshly back and forth.

"It is a privilege to be here tonight in front of our fine candidates and elected men and women of the great City of New York.."

He had to find Hunter in the audience somewhere. The stage was a stone's throw away to his left and only one spotlight glittered around the emcee; he squeezed around the counter and hunkered down as low as he could go. His eyes weren't as sharp as they used to be, but there was nothing else he could do except try his damnedest. Little balls of light illuminated from each table, so he was thankful for small favors. Looking across the many tables and bodies, he sneered at the squeaky cleaned faces and hot-pressed clothes. Mostly he wondered how any of them would fare on the cold streets that they so loudly claim to protect. Right, he scorned, as he quickly checked behind him. In the sea of faces, he only caught a couple of Nons, a Tiger and some reptile dude. He wondered if they had turned their back on their own kind, mingling with the upper class and not doing a damn thing for others.

Raphael was sure he caught a glimpse of Hunter in the middle. Of course the jackass wanted to be surrounded by others; it would make it harder for any threats. Raph wanted some of his good luck back and even flirted with the idea of pulling a crazed man move and just going for the strike. It's not like any of the rent-a-cops could catch him. Who pays attention to their surroundings? Those folks happily ignore beggars on the street everyday.

He blurred through a list of possible attacks in his mind from shutting off the spotlight once Hunter made it on stage to even waiting for the muck to leave the building. All he had to do was find a nice little spot in the back and hide. He entertained the thought of talking to the guy, finding out who else works under him, was involved in the dealings, and so forth. It would be satisfying to know where Merrick's body was located and then slicing Hunter's cocky little throat. That was the next step of action: the execution. Oh, playtime; the fun stuff. He liked saving the best for last. Whatever style tickled his fancy at the right time, he would choose it on the spot.

After a solid hour of more humdrum, polite chat, and introducing cheeky officials and hearing their speeches, Raph jumped when footsteps approached to his right. He ducked under the counter again and waited for the threat to pass. Two employees chatted about who was going to screw who after the gig, something he didn't care to hear. When he was a teenager, he obsessed over sex and everything with it, but growing older gave him a sense of apathy. Maybe he was turning into Leonardo more everyday, or maybe sex brought with it too many complications. He didn't need any woman crying to him and no need to answer to anybody, either. He remembered Donatello explaining over and over to the family that they were more than likely sterile but not to go and test that theory on just anything that walked. Their lives were already handicapped and plagued by their past. Raphael didn't want a new set of madness lumped in the old. Besides, girls get clingy, and the ones he wanted were so out of his league he could never get a chance.

Speaking of girls, he hoped Emyrs remembered to lock those damn doors and not answer them if someone knocked. It was a see-saw effect with that old lady when it came to trusting her. The less people around to worry about, the better, but he supposed there was too much invested in her. Why didn't she go back with her daughter? Red isn't even hers! Did she stay for his sake? Raph didn't need a mother or a babysitter, and he vowed to set the record straight when he saw her next. Go home, Emyrs, and sit down! Stop pointing a gun at folks and pretending to be a superhero! I got this superhero stuff!

I don't want you to wind up like Merrick!

He mellowed and moved his dead arm to another spot; his mind traveled back to the day's crazy, nerve wrecking events. After it all fizzled away, he thought about seeing the old turtle lady on the steps during a peaceful moment between storms. She didn't seem so old then. Maybe he never really saw her that way. Each person close to him created a different feeling. Raphael didn't know how or why some meetings intensified more than others. He dismissed it quickly. No time now for that mess.

The microphone popped again, and the emcee continued, "Please welcome our main guest and who you've all been waiting to hear tonight, Hunter Nicholas Mason." The place erupted in applause, mixed in with a few cheers. Raph wiggled his finger in the air pathetically.

As Raph resumed his spot around the counter, he glared at the massive man waddling on stage, shaking hands and selling a winning smile. The people loved him, even the two Nons in the audience with their standing ovation and constant applause. This job would be easier if nobody liked him, Raph groaned, and flinched slightly whenever employees hustled over the counter. He listened carefully to their chatter.

"Have you seen his commercials? I'm not sure what the message means. Is he for or against integration?"

"Revolutionary Citizens Party. Sounds like a for to me."

The first employee continued with a hint of worry, "But the ads talk about humans and human birth and just.. human growth in general. Not a single Non in them. It's weird. I don't know how to feel about it. I have a lot of Non buds."

A glass clinked above Raph's head and someone caught it before it tipped over the edge and onto the snooping turtle below. "You worry over nothing. Listen to the guy and keep doing your research, Paige. Gotta get these drinks to table eighteen. Come on."

They scampered back to their jobs, leaving Raph chewing on their conversation. He hadn't been anywhere near a television or radio in the last week to even know what they were talking about, but it justified his suspicions. His eyes crawled back to the stage where Hunter was about to speak.

He adjusted the microphone stand to reach his mouth. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen," his thick, bassist voice collided with the system, "The campaign has been running smoothly, efficiently thanks to my wonderful staff, colleagues, and family who support me. Only just a year ago, I was a salary man with big dreams for this city and its people, all people, and one morning I woke up and decided to facilitate my aspirations and..." he stretched his hands to the audience, "look at me now, Ma." The audience cackled and he lowered his hands and rummaged them in his pockets. Raph noticed how comfortable the man seemed in that element. "It's no question that there is turmoil and confusion on our streets, and all around the world. We can't do much for the world right now, but I am dedicated to starting it here in our fine city. We have the best team who can obtain resources and with the talented efforts combined, we will push forward the next generation of innovators and elected officials who will carry on with our great cause. My sincerest hope is that in the next ten, even twenty years, the problems we have now will no longer exist, and we're a self-preserving society with a more dynamic way of handling future adversities. We can do this, right?"

[Mindy]

(final part of chapter 44)



Several people agreed, cat called in the audience. Hunter squinted in the spotlight and pointed in the call's direction. "Right! I am honored to be among such fine citizens tonight. The food has been superb, and the Lalique staff has been phenomenal. I will be happy to discuss any questions or concerns anyone might have... after dessert, of course."

Raphael was glad the chump didn't shoot to be a comedian. He could happily lance his sai right through Hun's fat skull and no one would see it through the half-eaten lobsters and wine bottles. While the audience muttered and laughter faded, Raph watched Hun exit the stage and ask an employee something; the employee pointed to his right, and Hun beamed all of his pretty teeth and trotted to the right. Raph's heart raced as the moment was certainly making its pit stop, and before the lights could change, he dashed in the same direction. The emcee had returned to the stage, squealing the microphone, cleared his throat, and blabbed, "While you enjoy the rest of your meal and any dessert, tonight's entertainment will be presented by the F. Coleman Band and a special guest singer, Miss Nolene Nadell.."

Everything else the emcee said faded into a hum as Raph followed Hun's bulky, but surprisingly light footsteps. Raph stopped at the men's bathroom as Hun proceeded inside. The small lobby was dark and quiet with a few big potted plants; he ducked behind the extravagant leaves for only a minute. Time was ticking away now and he needed to take a breath and then dive deep.

Entering the bathroom was a breeze, and the door didn't make any noise as he stepped inside and immediately fell light on his chunky boots. If only he could drop the clothes and freely move, this would be an even swifter job, but he was so used to clothes now that it didn't matter. A medium-sized crevice before entering the stalls provided a nice cover. The urinals were behind stalls, too, and the bathroom had that muted little light like on the tables. Convenient. Hun's mammoth feet were planted in the second stall, and while the man finished his business, Raph drilled over the plans one more time: hide in the darkness, make the small talk, and go for the kill. Avoid his huge arms and legs and do it before another person buzzes in. He bit his lower lip, eclipsed into the tight corner across the mirror, and pep talked himself to death.

Rattle rattle. That would be the roll. Toilet flushed and gurgled. Feet scooted across the floor and Hun cleared his throat, followed by the lock, door squeak, and more walking across the tile. Sounds that were mighty in his ears and he meditated more as Hun washed his hands. The moment had finally arrived.

Water flickered all over the sink, and Hun's backside looked like another wall. He shut off the water and dried his hands with a handkerchief he yanked from his pocket. His voice broke through the silence. "You're a little late, aren't you?"

Was that cow talking to Raphael? He didn't even blink in the shadow.

Hun leaned over the sink and patted his forehead. "I wanted to keep my speech short since I tend to overheat under lights. The added benefit is being able to speak to you, Mr. Terrapin."

One stern golden eye flickered from the half-light in the corner. Raph was only there to get answers and finish the job. He decided to keep his mouth closed.

The handkerchief tucked back in his pocket, Hun watched Raph's figure through the mirror. "You currently hold a grudge, and I can understand why." One hand danced in the air and the other nestled in his pants pocket. "Your friend sniffed in my business, and I calmly tried to reach an agreement with her. However," he held his hand up, "I did not have anything to do with her disappearance."

Raph didn't recognize his own gravelly voice leaving his lips. "All politicians lie."

Hun curled the corner of his lips and whirled on one foot to face Raphael. They burned into each other's faces momentarily. "I'm well aware of that, Mr. Terrapin. I'm aware of a lot of things, and I have nothing against you coming here. Not at all. My partners, on the other hand, aren't as relaxed as I am about these things. I want to believe that everyone has a little good in them." He pulled a shiny block from his other pocket, possibly a cell phone, Raph studied. Hun raised and stretched out his arm so Raph could get a better look: a blurry video of the stage with the lady's singing thumping the bathroom walls.

"The lady on stage tonight isn't too bad. She needs more practice, but I believe she has the guts to chase her dreams, too. Miss Nolene Nadell," he slowly introduced and then watered his lips hurriedly. "Some say her name is Alisa, a spunky lizard lady from the Cathouse. A woman of many talents, I see."

Raph's visible one eye frowned harder. Damn, damn! What was Lisa doing there!

"So," the cell phone dropped in his jacket pocket, "you're a pretty intelligent guy, and even though you were here to do a very nasty thing to me, I'll give you a heads-up. That little safe house you were guarding is being cleaned out tonight. It might be in your best interest to return there and claim what belongs to you. I cannot control what other people do."

Raphael didn't move, but he was gripping his sai so hard he could feel his knuckles cracking.

"Ms. Nadell will be able to walk out of here, unharmed, tonight. Now if I knew you were here the whole time, how many others know about it, too? You're surrounded, Mr. Terrapin, but I have the authority here. Go."

If only looks could kill... Raphael Hamato fucked up. He fucked up good, too. Obviously, Hunter Mason was no ordinary politician and was gravely underestimated. If the guy was that smart, he could hold up his end of a physical fight, too. No need to be a hot-headed ninja now, he cursed himself as Hun stepped back to the sink. Raph hurried out of the room with half of his tail between his legs. He made no attempt to hide anymore, either. The staff's shocked faces blurred in his vision as he stomped through the kitchen. By the time he reached the back door, he angrily punched through a stack of flour bags, not worried how they tumbled to the ground or the various screams from bewildered employees on their fifth break.

By saving another life, he endangered others. All in a day's work, he growled, and cut through the city as fast as his terrapin legs would take him.

"When I wake up tomorrow, will you be here, 'myrs?" sweet Red muttered under the blankets. He really hadn't said two words since the Scott incident, and it surprised Emyrs. She folded her fresh pair of clothes and took a seat on the bed.

"Is that what your mommy did to you?" She leaned forward and rested her hand on his covered leg.

The only answer he gave was a twinkle in his green eyes. She patted his leg and struggled to give a smile. "I'll be here. I've been here this long, and tomorrow, we'll make sure you have a better place to stay with loving people all around you."

"But," he choked, "I want to stay with you. Can I go to your home with your fat cat and I can play with Annabelle."

Emyrs snickered at the name and kissed his forehead. "Sleep, little man. Tomorrow's another day." She grabbed her clothes and heard him spit out a good night before the door closed on his worried face. Honestly, she didn't have the energy to deal with any more problems. A hot shower was needed, and privacy. Blessed privacy was so needed. She double checked all of the doors and windows, even sneaked a quick peek outside, and retired to her quiet bathroom.

The disgusting clothes stuck to her body, and she tossed them between the sink and toilet, with her underwear falling IN the toilet. The toilet wasn't bolted on the floor properly and rocked as she did her business in the nude. Sexy. And there wasn't any toilet paper so a dirty piece of clothing it was. After a good hand washing, Emyrs Becker stared long and hard into the mirror: small wrinkles around her eyes and corners of her mouth but not too bad. Hideous bags under her eyes though, eesh! It was no wonder she didn't scare anybody off with those things. Her beak felt a little crooked, if that was possible; it had always felt that way to her. She patted her cheeks and made a weird face at the mirror, then promptly scared herself.

Time for the body check. Legs are still there, functional; chunky, puffy hips that could give birth to a walrus were robust, and the plastron and shell were intact. She was sagging a little with age but riding a bike all the time at Home kept her in decent shape. She could do better with her fitness, though. Remembering the ripped Hamato boys and Lisa's slender curves shrunk her confidence; they were all young hellions anyways, she whined, and didn't have a teenage daughter to raise. What about Kuma? He was a stout rat man for his age.

The confidence-O-Meter then pummeled. Emyrs retreated to the tub and hid behind the curtain in shame.

She lightly moaned at the hot water massaging the top of her head and pouring down her face. A simple pleasure such as warm water was forgotten in all of the chaos. Too many voices and too much confusion. Her head constantly pounded, but so many clouds had departed from the mind. With the clouds came another urge and one that had long died ago. Medicine helped but it killed things at the same time, buried them deep. Something tingled near her bottom torso and her hands pressed against the wet, stained wall. She titled her head back and enjoyed it more. The tingle wasn't going away; it intensified. Looking down at the drain, she rocked side to side, washing her shell, and she spread apart her legs to get a better grip.

One hand slipped off the wall and took on a life of its own, gliding down her right leg and finding a new home. Fleshy warmth. The rhythm. Bright colors behind her closed eyes. Sunshine, flowers, and more rhythm. Run the marathon, lady. Taste the sweet adrenaline. Feel the energy and excitement. Live again. Faster rhythm, faster. Toes curled. Legs tensed. Finish the race. Almost there, almost there. Where is that exploding sensation? Come on, come on. Sunshine, flowers, rainbow, tongue, a touch, a moan, and …. out of hibernation, the mute feelings burst through like diamonds behind her eyelids.

Emyrs rested her head against the wall, breathing quickly and legs shivering. The water was chilling so she needed to enjoy her afterglow while cleaning.

The shower was soon over, she dressed in better clothes, and saw a better representation in the mirror: a fresher lady and a little more confident. She didn't feel so dead anymore.

Thump, thump. She stopped rubbing the towel over her head. It happened somewhere in the house. She stared at the doorknob and waited for another sound.

Thump, thump, THUMP. Worse that time. She was probably being dumb for what she was about to do but she did it anyways. "Hallo? Red? Are you okay?"

Immediately, a distressed male voice ripped through the walls, "EMYRS! STAY IN THERE!"

She backed away and flinched at every thumping and crashing noise that was happening outside the door. Peace had been short-lived.

[BubblyShell22]

I loved this chapter, too, Mindy. You really know how to tell a story, and that's a good thing. Can't wait for the next update.