"I'd trade all my tomorrows for one single yesterday . . ." – Me and Bobby McGee, Janis Joplin

"Her ancient eyes were upon me they were familiar and black -
She laid her claws all up on me, she had found me at last." – Quotidian Beasts, Phosphorescent

Chapter 20 – All Dreams End

Somewhere in the distance a bird called. It was the unpleasant, grating croak of a crow. No doubt feasting upon the carrion of some hapless animal too slow to cross the black expanse of the highway in the dead of night without meeting the unrelenting steel of a speeding truck. Raphael's eyes, crusted with the dry tears that he only dimly recalled shedding, cracked open. With a groan, he burrowed deeper into the softness that surrounded him. He took in a slow breath, filling his lungs. As he did, he breathed in her scent. His eyes snapped opened. He peered over one shoulder to the empty space next to him on the bed. His head rose and he glanced around. Licking his bottom lip, he considered calling out for her. But he knew she was gone. He stared at the rumpled pillow beneath him and then buried his face once more in the softness, breathing in every bit of her scent that he could pull from the fabric.

His mind replayed the night before. Their talk, if it could be called that. Her apology. The kissing; how soft her lips were; making him want to crush them into his own; to lick and nip and suckle them. Heat stirred in his lower regions and he stopped his mind from going much further. It would only serve to torture him. She was gone. As he knew she would be if he had fallen asleep. He had promised himself as she was whispering words of comfort to him that he would not sleep. He would stay up all night. Make love to her over and over again, keep her close to him, and not let her out of his sight. But like the weak fool he was, he had fallen asleep in the warmth and contentment of her body and embrace. And he'd never slept as deeply nor as soundly as he did, lying there in her arms. He rose up again and cast about with bleary eyes for a note. A message. Anything. But as he suspected there was nothing.

He dragged himself over the edge of the bed and roughly rubbed his face. His body felt heavy and light at the same time. A satisfaction filled him that he'd never felt before; it gave him an almost shaky edge. It was as if he'd finally set down a heavy burden and his muscles didn't know what to do with the loss of burden. With a sigh, he stood on weak legs and crossed the room; still glancing around for any note despite knowing there'd be nothing left for him. One hand braced on the door frame, he glanced again back over the room. All signs that there'd been another here other than himself was gone.

It was as if the night had been a dream borne of blood and terror, death and hope, lust and loneliness. He rested his forehead on the cool surface of the wood. He knew what waited for him at home. That was where he was needed. He could linger here no longer.

As he slid from shadow to shadow, heading home while avoiding the traffic, mulling crowds and sporadic groups of homeless people, he decided the night was not a dream, after all. He had laid in her arms. He had given her everything he had. Everything. His fury; his forgiveness; his body. But most of all, the foolish notion of his love. Love of a freak. And from her? What did he expect? Her love? It was a love he had no right to claim.

He sniffed hard and rubbed his chin with one shoulder as he dashed through an alley. She had spared him the pity and no doubt the look of regret in her eyes. Words were nothing when the truth was written in the eyes. He was sure that's why she had left before he'd woken. She had given him a night he'd never forget. Had whispered words that made him believe, at least for a little while, that he could be loved.

It was all a pretty lie. If she really loved him, she would have been there this morning. Still holding him. Still willing to give him her love.

A lump formed in the center of his throat and he ran harder. His eyes stung but he would not cry. Not over this. He should be grateful. Because she took pity on his worthless, freak self, he was able to pretend. Once. What it was like to be a man loving a woman.

The lair was quiet when he returned. But it was not empty. Splinter's head rose as Raphael crossed the room to stand next to the sofa where he sat. Michelangelo was nowhere in sight. Donatello sat with a sullen look in the armchair near the television set; elbows braced on his thighs, fingers tented. The feel in the air spoke of a conversation just having been finished. An awkward and uneasy one. Raphael could not help but cast his eyes in the direction of Donatello's lab where Inanna had met a gruesome end at the hands of his brother. He remembered Donnie shouting something about her doing something to him. That the others didn't understand. That she needed to die. Raph's eyes bore down into the side of Master Splinter's head.

"So, is . . . uh, she gone? Really gone?"

Splinter nodded once, abruptly and shifted where he sat. Raphael's head bobbed in understanding. So, Leo really killed her. Just like that. In cold blood. With his bare hands. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of what Leonardo must be going through at the moment and he glanced at his brother.

"Where's Leo?"

Splinter answered, "Resting."

"And Mikey? How's he doin'?"

Donatello stared out into the center of the room as he spoke. "He's still there."

Before Raphael could ask, Splinter responded as if reading his mind. "The body was laid to rest where no one will find her. Beneath concrete slabs and six feet of dirt. Beyond the collapsed and forgotten section of the abandoned line."

"A-Are you sure that's good enough? I mean, couldn't someone still find her? Why didn't we, uh, burn the body or something?" He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling very uncomfortable but at least Michelangelo was out of earshot. Sometimes you had to be happy with the small victories.

Splinter shook his head. "We could not risk such a fire being spied. No one will discover her."

Donatello paled slightly. "Before I . . . covered the remains, I made sure to locate an area that was ideal for certain conditions. Aerobic decomposition will be hastened by the addition of several well placed ventilation-"

His already uneasy stomach churned as images of decomposing flesh came to mind. It was Donatello that had set up the compost heap to help their father grow his meager garden where the light filtered down through the grates of the less populated areas. He had spent two days reading everything about decomposition and learning how best to break down material. All kinds of materials. When Mikey learned that anything living was considered biodegradable and eventually just more compost to the world in general, they had joked about tossing Mikey in as added fertilizer. Now the thought turned his stomach and bile rose into the back of his throat. Raphael held up his hands.

"I don't need the details, bro. I trust you." Raphael moved around the couch. He patted Master Splinter on one shoulder. "Sensei, you feelin' okay? Can I get you anythin'?" he asked gently. Splinter shook his head. "Is it alright if I talk to Leo?"

Splinter's wizened eyes inched their way up to meet his. "He believes I am disappointed that he took the situation in hand. But I am not. It is true that I had decided we would give her some time. And judge her upon her actions moving forward. Without her powers she was more than likely no real threat. My shock upon learning that Leonardo had moved violently against one who was undefended was . . . great."

Donatello was staring at Master Splinter with an unreadable expression on his face. "He did the right thing," he said in a flat, even voice.

Splinter's eyes dropped away. "I understand that he only meant to protect us. I do not think he believes I understand this truth. Unfortunately, my initial reaction has . . . seared into his mind much doubt."

With burning eyes, Raphael squeezed his master's shoulder. He couldn't believe that Splinter had decided in favor of keeping the witch or demon or whatever she was, alive. This was going to kill Leo if he didn't already know. "I'll talk to him." He moved only to stop as if he just remembered something. "She hurt you, too. Didn't she, Don?"

Donatello's face turned a strange shade of green before he reddened deeply. He gave the barest nod that Raphael caught from the corner of his eye.

With a sigh, Raphael said, "But Mikey doesn't know that."

"I'm afraid that your brother believes Inanna was not the same specter that haunted and cursed my mind. The same cruel monster that used your brother and . . . hurt Donatello."

Donatello's face turned away from them both. Raphael wondered what had happened. He wondered what Don had told his father. If he said anything more than the fact that she had done something bad to him as well. Maybe that was enough. It was for him. He left the two of them in their silence, alone in their individual thoughts. He rapped gently on Leonardo's door but did not wait for an answer. He pushed inside and closed the door behind him.

Leonardo was in one corner. Shell to the door, face to the wall, he said nothing, made no move aside from the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. Raph could just see one hand was resting on top of his head, elbow braced on a knee. His other arm was wrapped around his bent knees. The meditation candles were turned over and the mat he usually sat on was crumpled and tossed carelessly to one side. Raphael crossed and sat on the edge of his brother's bed. He leaned forward, elbows on his thighs.

He took a deep breath and said, "You did the right thing."

Leo dropped his hand and stared at the bricks in front of his face.

"She was dangerous. Even without her powers. I mean, just the way Mikey was gettin' over her . . ."

Mentioning Michelangelo was a mistake by the way Leonardo stiffened at the sound of his name. The silence stretched out. Raphael grappled with words tangled on his tongue, useless in his mind, feeling helpless and stupid. He should know what to say. This should be easy. They'd taken out enemies before. He just had to make Leo see Inanna was no different. It didn't matter that she was a female. That she was . . . defenseless. And the fact that Splinter was going to give her a chance to live with them. Oh, god. He pinched his eyes shut.

"He won't forgive me," Leo said then, in a quiet voice.

Raphael wasn't sure if he meant Splinter or Michelangelo. "She did something to Don."

That got his attention. He spun around on one hip to look at Raph. "What do you mean? H-How do you know?"

Raphael gave him a grim look, pressing his lips together tightly before speaking. "Well, besides the most passive of us suddenly wanting to kill an unarmed girl, Don didn't deny that something happened when I just asked him. But I doubt he wants to get into it." Raphael gave him a knowing look. After Leo held back the truth of what the Mistress had done to him for over a year, he of all of them would understand Donatello's reluctance to talk about what exactly had been done to him.

Leo's eyes dropped. He looked slightly sick.

"But it's over now, Leo. It's done."

If there was relief in his brother's eyes, Raphael couldn't see it beyond the regret.

"Master Splinter was going to let her stay," Leonardo said in a rush suddenly. His hands fisted where they sat next to his legs on the floor. A visible shudder went through him. "Even after," his voice was breathless, "what she'd done." He would've added to me, but couldn't find the breath enough to push the words out.

Raph's eyes widened. He panicked for a moment, thinking that Splinter had said something directly to Leonardo. Now Raphael understood it wasn't regret so much as hurt in his brother's eyes. He didn't know what to say to that. He hardly understood his father's commands half the time or the motivations behind them. This was a perfect example. What was their father thinking? Was it for Mikey? Did he really think this person would've – what? Mated with his brother? The thought made a strange twist in his stomach as images of a possible future including nephews and nieces like them blurred out of sight and out of reach. He swallowed dryly. No. There was no happy ending here. It would've led to the family falling apart. This female in another form had abused Leonardo and though Raphael didn't know all the exact details, he knew it had changed his brother. It had left its scars on him. Invisible scars but they were there nonetheless.

He didn't understand his father's plans, but it didn't matter. Inanna was gone. Leonardo had done what he always did, he put himself in harm's way to keep them all safe. Raphael trusted Splinter. He had to believe that there was some logic behind his decision and that now that things had changed so drastically he wouldn't bring those plans to light ever again. It would only cause pain. For Leo, but also for Mikey. Yeah, he trusted Splinter. He needed Leonardo to trust him again, too. So, he lied through his teeth and prayed that Splinter had not revealed his plans nor would ever at this point.

"That's not true."

Leonardo's face crushed into a frown.

"He told me, just now, out there, that he knew she was a danger to us. Especially Mikey. That bonehead had no idea what Inanna really was. There was no way she could've stayed here. He said that he believes you did right by . . . taking care of it." At least part of that was true. He could see Leonardo struggling with this information. It was the best he could do. Bluntly, he added, "It's over."

"It's over," Leonardo repeated. Raphael nodded. He stood up and reached down to take his brother's hand in his. He heaved Leonardo to his feet. He clapped him on the opposite shoulder, still clinging to his hand.

"Mikey's gonna need time. But he'll come around. Maybe Don could talk to him sometime. When he's ready." If Leonardo read anything in that statement, he didn't say anything about it. Raph was glad. He wasn't trying to needle him now. He was only trying to help him get back on track.

Leonardo sniffed. Then again and he gave Raphael a quizzical look. Raphael blinked rapidly, feeling his cheeks heat as he remembered he hadn't showered since being with Deborah. Leonardo searched his eyes for a moment longer. Raphael could see the questions there. He held his breath, frozen with the dread that Leonardo would push him for answers to questions he just couldn't deal with right now. He wondered with one terrifying moment, if Leonardo would recognize the scent of the woman. But they had only met briefly before. The suspenseful moment passed and Leo dropped his gaze away. He patted Raph in silent thanks and moved to picking up the mess in his room. Raphael left him to it.

As he exited the room, he spotted Mikey talking quietly with Master Splinter. He was sniffling and rubbing alternately between his shoulder and the back of one hand. He was about to ask where Donatello had gone, but decided to leave it. Instead he went to his room.

He flung himself into the hammock that now replaced his old mattress and slung one arm over his eyes. And with every heartbeat he yearned for Deborah to hold him again like she did last night. And every second he wondered if he'd ever see her again. Something told him he would, but a part of him knew it was only his naïve hope hanging on with stubborn tenacity. He heard her whisper the words over and over in his mind. So clear and real, it was like she was there, right next to him, under him. And he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would never be the same. He would seek her out until the end of his days. And one day he would wake and find her next to him.

It was with a fluttering heart that Donatello raced over the rooftops. He told Master Splinter he'd needed only to run out and pick up some medical supplies and that he'd be back soon. Since it was daylight, Master Splinter wasn't pleased. Not to mention that everyone's nerves were just about frayed to nothing after what had just happened. But with reassurances that he'd be back in no time at all, Donatello slipped away. Michelangelo arriving home at that moment was the distraction he needed to slip out without further delays and lies. His injured arm was wrapped securely to his body, so scaling some of the buildings was more challenging than usual, but nothing he couldn't handle. April's apartment wasn't much further.

He wasn't sorry about the girl being killed. He was only sorry that it wasn't him that had the chance to do it. The demonic being would have only found some way to hurt him and his brothers if she had been allowed to stay alive much less live with them. Donatello found himself bristling at the memory of Splinter's decision to allow her to stay. He never thought of his father as foolish before in his life. With a single word, that had been changed forever in his mind.

With a sharp shake of his head, he landed on the roof of April's building. No time to think on that now, he had to focus. With a shuddering breath, he steadied himself. He would apologize for his erratic behavior. He would explain as best as he could without completely humiliating himself how the creature posed as her and had . . . he struggled with this part. Whatever he would tell April, he did not want to reveal the sexual abuse. His cheeks blazed. He didn't want her to know that something so debasing had happened to him. More than anything, he didn't want her to think he was weak.

He would simply tell her that there was a spell or some form of disguise that had tricked him and he had mistakenly believed it was her. Donatello sucked on his bottom lip. He should have known that April wouldn't ever hurt him. Not like that. Sure, they had their problems. They had some communication issues. But nothing that wasn't reparable. He pointedly made an effort to ignore the fact that April and he had effectively ended their relationship the other day. It didn't count because to Don, he was still under the misunderstanding of April having been the one to attack him. She was completely innocent.

He waited until the garbage truck rumbled out of the alley to slide down the metal railing of the fire escape attached to the back of her apartment building. He landed with a soft thud just outside her kitchen window. He adjusted the wrap tied at his shoulder bracing his arm. His shoulder was a dull ache but he ignored it as adrenaline started to course through him and anxiety filled his stomach. Leaning forward, he peered inside. Immediately, he reared back until his shell hit the opposite railing.

The man who claimed to be Raphael's friend was there. In her kitchen. The sound of their voices were drifting out through the cracked opening of the window. Their laughter was light. The tone was of gentle teasing.

Donatello's mind raced along with his heart. It took a moment, but Donatello regained some composure. Just because he was here, that didn't mean that he'd spent the night. Right? His chest began to heave as he struggled to breathe. She hardly knew this joker. She had been with me a year and never . . . not once . . . NO! Get a grip on yourself, he chided. He straightened up, deciding that now was not the time to talk to April about everything when the window snapped open and a dish towel was shaken out. He froze as April caught sight of him from the corner of her eye.

"Oh!"

Donatello closed his mouth. He waved and said in a wavering voice, "'Morning."

She looked over her shoulder then back at Don. She popped her head back inside. He heard her ask Casey to go into the basement and find her mop. Casey protested with mock offense but eventually after several quips that left Donatello rolling his eyes at the poor attempts at flirting, April reemerged. She waved him inside. Donatello, feeling his legs were made of heavy clay, could do little else but obey. He ducked his head and brought one long leg through and over the windowsill and then the next. He stood awkwardly in front of her. For a moment it looked like she was about to hug him, only to change her mind. She wrung the towel between her fingers with nervous energy.

"That was Casey."

"Yeah, I know."

"Raph's friend. He's known Raphael for a while. I guess they hang out or something."

"Good for him."

They started at the same time, "April I-" "Don, when-"

"Oh, I'm sorry, go on," April said.

Donatello shook his head. "It can wait. What did you want to say?"

She glanced at the door leading out of her apartment and Donatello wasn't sure if she wanted to get this over with quickly because the guy was coming back or if she just wished they had more time to talk. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he waited impatiently for her to go on.

"The other day, y-you said that I hurt you."

Donatello's stomach turned to lean and dropped. "April-"

She held up her hand interrupting him. "I just want to say that I'm truly sorry for causing you any pain, Donnie. I never meant to. You have to believe that." He was shaking his head and then nodding rapidly, trying to keep up. "And that no matter what, we can still be friends. At least, I hope we can be." She scrunched the towel up tightly and gave him a hopeful smile. "When everything was said and done, that's all I ever really wanted. I think that's true for you, too. Isn't it?"

Donatello felt as if his heart had just imploded and crumpled like so much discarded newspaper. It was as if the world had disconnected itself from his mind and had left his body on autopilot. He found himself nodding in numb agreement. The sound of his voice suddenly came in clear and he realized he was responding.

"Of course it is. I value our friendship, April. I always will."

"Well . . . good. I'm glad we can work things out and not make it, you know, awkward." She gave him a bright smile as the door was opening and the rough sound of Casey's voice boomed through the apartment.

"I didn't know which broom you wanted, so I brought them all."

Donatello was out the window like a wisp of smoke. He could hear April's tittering laughter as she told Casey that she'd sent him to fetch a mop not a broom. Donatello scaled the building without registering the pain in his injured arm. He flitted across the rooftops, dodging between shadows without realizing that his face was wet. His heart galloped and his chest squeezed; his teeth were clenched as his breath struggled from between, but there was closure here. Beneath the initial pain of this ending, he could feel it there. He would recover from this in time. For he knew something wasn't right between them from the beginning. Romantically they did not fit together, and that hurt. Because he had so wanted it to work. But April was a rare friend and he would cherish her company. He would do everything in his power not to allow anything to come between that, at least.

But for now, there was pain, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. He wiped his cheeks roughly. A small part of his heart would always belong to April. He knew this. And that was alright as well.

Deborah stepped lightly over the lush rug. Her toes sunk deeply with each step. The carpet was some dark color. Rich and vibrant even in the shadows of the darkening evening. He was by the terrace, overlooking an unreal view of the city alight below. The wind was warm, kissing her face and blowing the ends of her hair from her shoulders as she came to stand next to him. With the barest of movements he turned. His hand twisted and found hers. His fingers wrapped around her slender digits and he squeezed them gently.

Together they gazed out over the sleeping city in silence. Their individual motivations hidden and kept secretly close to their heart of hearts. The unspoken acceptance of the crossroads they stood upon rested between them like a sleeping predator.

In the gloaming drifts of pink mists, thick and clouded, a message was whispered through the darkness.

The queen is dead.

Despair had drained her and left her to die. They had entered this realm and left the stink of their presence behind. They had carried her mother off like a prize. And while Despair was their natural predator, these mortals, these men-shaped reptiles, were not worthy to lay their filthy hands on her, let alone bring harm to her. Their only purpose should have been to serve her. Serve until which time she grew tired of them and devoured them. But it was by their mortal hands that the remaining life that endured within her final form was crushed from her.

If she wanted, if she was ready, she could rise. But an honorable daughter avenges her mother before assuming her reign.

In the drifting mists of another dimension, one that circled Earth since the dawn of light, drawn to it and locked by the passions and will of men, two eyes opened in the darkness. One voice spoke.

"I will avenge you, sweet Mother."

A/N: This is where I leave this story. I hope you enjoyed it. It took some unexpected turns for me as the writer that I found surprising and in fact, I had to wrestle it back into something close to what I had first envisioned when I had begun. The Mistress was a tricky little witch and she certainly did not want to go softly into that dark night, lol. But as you have learned, she will not go unmourned nor unavenged.

In some ways it's fitting that I end this on this day, as it was the 25th of December last year(2012) that I posted my first attempt at writing fanfiction (The Long Way Home) after a hiatus from writing for about 6 years or so. I had all but given up on myself as a writer and this site has given me the greatest gift ever, my rediscovery of a love for writing not to mention all the wonderful friends I have met through this site. I thank you for all the support and encouragement you've given.

The end of this story represents a much more exciting turn of events, however. I will begin part 3 of The Tender Trap. Finally, I know. I thank you for your patience. But I must say, Brace yourselves. I may end up breaking some of your hearts, consider it fair warning.

Head over to Stealthy Stories II over at Stealthystories DOT prophpbb DOT com. I post a lot of my art and stories and generally have a lot of fun with other fans. Stop by.

Until then, there is I, Alone.

See you in another story. xo