Chapter 34

Donatello had gathered everything already, so all there was left for Raphael to do was assemble the three padded mailing envelopes. Into each one, he slipped a stapled copy of all the press coverage surrounding the Alliant story. On three blank pieces of paper he wrote: Follow the trail to Saito Doshida, Agete Inc. (aka the Rising Hand) and the address of Agete's office buildings. Lastly, he opened the small metal box with its four remaining filled syringes. He dropped one, along with his note, into each envelope and sealed them. One would go to the NYPD, one to the FBI, and one to the DEA. As a general rule, Raphael had exceedingly little confidence in law enforcement, but that was no reason to pass up doing one last thing to make life harder for Saito Doshida.

After all, the man would be out of his reach now, flying business class into the criminal stratosphere, while Raphael remained as he was, a creature of the city's pavement and shadows, its filthy alleys and rooftops and tunnels. That was fine with him; there were always Foot and other street brethren to contend with. With luck, he wouldn't be crossing paths with Saito Doshida again.

Then again, he could not always count on luck.

He rolled the last syringe in his fingers, then set it back in the box and closed the lid. He made some space for it in the back of a closet, behind some old training gear, tucked securely between a stack of Mike's childhood comics and a pile of Don's out-of-date reference books.

He passed the training room and looked in. Master Splinter knelt, holding his brush poised over parchment, then swept it elegantly across the paper in three sure strokes, black ink magically taking on beauty and form. Next to him, Leonardo copied the strokes on his own paper and tilted his head at it critically, making a face.

"It is no different from sword work," Splinter said.

"I hope you're wrong, sensei. Otherwise, I have some katana practice waiting for me." He looked up. "Raph."

"Join us, Raphael. I have more paper and another brush."

Raph shook his head, and not just because calligraphy struck him a torturous way to spend time. "I was on my way out." As he turned to go, he noticed Leonardo eyeing the envelopes under his arm and paused. "Come, if you like."

Leonardo looked over at Splinter, who said, "Calligraphy can certainly wait for another day. Go on with your brother." Leo got to his feet.

"Sons." Splinter paused them just outside the doorway. He set down his brush and came up to them, placing a long-fingered hand on each of their arms.

"Sensei?" Leo asked, concerned by his sudden silence.

Splinter gave a gentle nod, closing his eyes briefly. "It is good to have you all home." He turned and walked back to his calligraphy. "Do not be gone too long."

"We won't, Master Splinter."

They wended their way through the tunnels, each of them appreciating, silently, how sorely they had missed the freedom and security of these dank, dark tubes in the days they had been away from them. After a while, they began to talk, adding to the bare explanations they had of what the other had been through.

"Did Kan really call us that?"

"Fiends of the underworld, is what he said."

"Huh." Raphael made a pleased face, the corner of his mouth curling up. "I like it."

"I knew you would. I thought of you right away."

Raph shot him a look, pretending not to see his brother's grin. "Pain-in-the-ass of the underworld suits you better."

They emerged just outside the post office and Raphael dropped the envelopes one by one into the mail slot. They climbed to the roof and sat on the edge. It was a comfortable, clear night, foreshadowing warm days ahead. Leonardo tilted his head back, contemplating the starless sky.

"What do you think will happen to the Foot?" Raph mused. "Will Kan still be jonin, after all this?"

"Maybe, maybe not. I suppose it depends on what he thinks is more important: continuing his work of strengthening the Foot Clan, or atoning for his defeat with his life." He thought about it for a minute. "I kind of hope he stays."

Raphael snorted. "He's trying to rebuild the Foot. And he held you prisoner."

"True, but he is an honorable man, after all. It could've been a lot worse."

Raphael looked over at his brother, the truth of Leo's words prodding an ache in his chest. He had never been good at putting feelings into words, and he could not do so now.

Leonardo said, "It drove me crazy though. Being in there, not knowing anything." He felt Raph's eyes on him and, impulsively, cupped a hand to the back of his brother's neck, pulling their heads together in brief, fierce understanding.

When he let go, Raphael blinked, shifted his face away. After half a minute of silence, said, "Nice night for a run."

"Where to?"

"Top of City Hall."

"You're on. Get ready to eat dust."

And they ran, each long stride, each rooftop leap, connecting them to what was theirs: the city, the night, the kinship of their clan.