"Scars fade with time. And the ones that never go away, well, they build character, maturity, caution." -Erin McCarthy, The Pregnancy Test

Chapter 10 - Choices

Raph stood in the doorway to the dojo, heavy arms crossed, smug grin dissolving with each passing minute as he watched his brother on his knees, scrubbing the dojo's mats like some forlorn Cinderella. It was both hilarious and pathetic to see their supposed leader in such a position. The longer he stood there the less funny it seemed.

He had it comin'.

Raph scratched at his chin, considering.

Donatello said he was in the middle of a love affair. Leo. He snorted quietly. He wouldn't've believed it if he hadn't been the one to drag Leo's darted ass home from that alley himself. The alley located within spitting distance of that Foot lady's apartment as Donatello had pointed out.

And that was the other thing that just made no sense. No sense at all.

Of all the women populating New York City, why her? She was Foot. The nutjobs that had terrorized the city, captured them, nearly killed them and then attempted to poison everyone. Well, maybe most of that had been the Shredder and Sacks, but still. She was aligned with them, possibly a commander or mistress or whatever Donnie had said.

That Donatello suggested the woman was interested in Leonardo romantically was beyond ridiculous. No one would fall for such a lame-o. No way. Leo was just mistaking a seductive trap for something real like the dumbass he was.

He had to straighten things out, which included beating sense into his brother if reasonable dialogue didn't help. And since he wasn't exactly fond of talking, also, knowing Leo's shitty attitude whenever they did talk about anything close to serious, it would come to the beating sooner than later.

Fine by me.

He rubbed one scarred fist and moved to take a step. The cell buzzed at his hip, halting him. He glanced down to see April's number appear with a text message.

You ready for tonight?

He felt his blood heat. Hell yeah, he was ready.

He texted back: Yeah. Can't wait.

They were going to spend the night watching all the original Mad Max films, and then, after . . . well, April had said that she'd taken the day off tomorrow and there was no reason he couldn't spend the night.

His cheeks heated.

They'd been seeing each other for a while, taking things slow, a snail's pace, really. Neither wanted to rush into something that they might regret. Well, he certainly wouldn't regret anything with April, but despite her reassurances, he wasn't exactly confident that feeling went both ways. But lately, she'd been particularly hands-on, kissing him whenever she had the chance, running her hands over his shell, shoulders and thighs whenever they were close.

Raphael shivered.

Things were definitely advancing to the next level. And tonight . . .

He looked again at Leonardo, hunched over at the far end of the room, scrubbing in concentric circles, the last corner of the room to finish. The weapons lining the walls had been oiled, polished and sharpened. The mats had all been cleaned. It was the last room he had to finish after the living area, kitchen and bathroom, a full day of chores completed after one spent entirely in the Hashi.

Shit.

Suddenly, Raphael felt the familiar and unwelcome hyper-awareness of the confinement of the lair, the rooms too small, the ceiling too low; the restrictions placed upon him and his brothers by their over-protective father. His breath grew tight and struggled through his pinching chest. This had only started happening a few years ago, just before they'd started to sneak out, when the outside world started to seem less like a place of traps and danger and more like a way out. The only way out.

He didn't like thinking of their home in a negative way, but it just happened. What had once been a sanctuary, now seemed like a prison.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing slow, as April had shown him. He counted as he blew out his breath, slow, even. He could hear her voice in his mind, counting with him as she'd done before. Just thinking of her, snuggling next to him, softening the brunt of his anxiety with her gentle voice, eased the pressure back. Thinking of seeing her tonight melted the last of it away.

His breath released, chest opened. Air. Before he knew it, the panic attack was gone. Keeping her image in the corner of his mind, just in case it came on again, he glanced once more at Leonardo. A startling thought struck him.

That's what this is Karai stuff is about.

He blinked at that, feeling himself soften towards his bossy, know-it-all, condescending, arrogant ass of a brother. He huffed.

Never thought I'd have anything in common with Mr. Perfect. But here we are.

He straightened and made a soft grunt to announce his presence.

Leo ignored him. No doubt he'd sensed Raphael was standing there since he first came here to gloat, half an hour ago. With a roll of his eyes, Raph strode across the dojo to stand over his brother's shell.

"What."

Raphael immediately bristled at Leo's tone. Any feelings of pity or compassion, fleeting and weak as they were, dissolved.

He kicked the bucket over. "Ya missed a spot."

Leonardo sat back on his heels with a resigned sigh, grey water slushing around him. "Thanks."

Raphael braced himself for an attack, muscles coiling, a grim beginning of a grin starting to form. It never came. His brother righted the bucket and proceeded to mop the water Raph had spilt, never even glancing up at him. Either he was too exhausted to fight, or something was wrong with him.

"You sick?"

Leo shook his head slightly, more in an annoyed manner than in an actual answer, continuing to push the water around with the sopping rag.

Raphael crouched. "What is up with you?"

Leo said nothing, wouldn't spare him a glance.

Raph stuck his fingers into the water and flicked some at his brother. "I know all about Karai."

Leo froze. His face shot to Raph.

"Oh, now I get your attention."

Leo's eyes dropped. He tossed the rag into the bucket with a slap and climbed to stand. As he turned, Raphael jumped to his feet, grabbing him by the shoulder.

"Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you. We're just getting started here."

Leo stopped. He shrugged out of his brother's grasp.

"Leave it alone."

"I don't think so."

Leonardo's shoulders bunched but he remained silent.

"Look," Raph shrugged. "I get it. Needin' ta get outta here. Get a little space. But goin' after a Foot broad is beyond nuts. It's downright stupid. What the hell are ya thinkin'?"

Leo sighed. "You done?"

Raphael glared, bristling. "No, I ain't done. But you're gonna be, got me? Starting now."

Leo shot a scowl over his shoulder, the blue of his eyes sparking in fury.

Raphael sneered, triumphant that he'd managed to press several of Leo's buttons at once. "Oh, big brother does not like to be told what to do. Well, tough. That's the last you're gonna see of that bitch."

Leo jumped as if stung. He spun around, crowding up to Raph who hadn't moved, standing his ground and curling his lip back in warning, exposing one fang.

"Don't," Leo articulated each word, voice low and dangerous, "call her that again."

"You know what, Fearless? I think that maybe Splinter would like to know more about her, eh?" Raph asked with a savage smile, catching Leo's flash of panic before he could smooth it away into a neutral look of mild disinterest. Leo relented, stepping back.

"Maybe he'd like to know she's not just some chick you rescued in a dark alley one night, but, uh, a soldier of the Foot clan. And not just any soldier, if Donnie's guess is right, some kinda commander. And I bet he'd like to know that you've been seeing her for a while now."

This time Leo could not hold back the look of dread that mottled his face. "How did you find out?" he asked, voice raw and choked.

Raph shrugged. "Don's a genius. Did you really think you could keep something like this from him? From us?"

Leonardo's shoulders slumped, all the fight gone.

"Tell me you're done. I wanna hear it. Promise me."

Leo looked sick.

"I ain't running out in the middle of the night again because Don's terrified that you've been ganked. Just 'cuz you're all hormonal doesn't mean you get to act like some love-struck idiot without any sense of self-preservation. I mean, c'mon, bro. Aside from the fact that you're a freak like the rest of us and have about zero chance with any woman, she's with the Foot Clan. And you were darted right after seeing her. You gotta realize somethin's not right with the situation. Think!" He tapped the side of his head.

Leo's eyes moved from the motion to meet his brother's gaze.

"Tell me you're done."

Leo stared at him. Before he could answer, Raph's phone rang.

Raph peered at the cell, then held up a finger. "Hold that thought." He answered, "Hey, April, what's up?"

Leo watched Raphael's face light up as he started to talk, trying not to listen to the conversation, but hearing the change in his brother's tone, the softening, the joy lacing every word. He'd been bewildered by the sudden romance between his brother and April. Astonished, and at first, angry. He wasn't sure why and hadn't wanted to examine that feeling too closely, for it resembled something he'd rarely felt in his life, if ever: jealousy.

"Well, yeah, that sounds great. See you in ten minutes." Raph, listening intently, face growing slightly pink, glanced up at Leo and wheeled around for a bit of privacy. His voice lowered. "Oh, heh, that so? Aw, aheh. I'm . . . I'm lookin' forward to seeing you tonight, too." He cleared his throat and after a moment chuckled. "Oh really? Is that a challenge or a promise?"

Pressing his mouth together tightly, Leo turned away from Raphael, retreating from the flirtatious banter, the sound of his brother's laugh, so different when it involved April, so happy. He made his way through the corridor which led to the laundry room, bits of Raphael's earlier tirade as well as his threats seemed to follow along, dogging and snipping at his heels.

Reaching the laundry room, he threw open the door and slammed the bucket into the utility sink, sending a wave of filthy water splashing up against the cracked bricks. He fell forward and gripped either side of the sink, knuckles whitening, breathing heavy, blinking hard, feeling the weight of his exhaustion from the past two days of little sleep and endless chores, not to mention the hours he'd spent in the Hashi after Splinter had disciplined him. And for what?

What had he done to earn his father's disappointment and abashment?

Raphael was doing the same thing, and yet Splinter was fine with the relationship. Supportive.

He gulped for air and swallowed back the sting of resentment. He ran a hand across his head and down the back of his neck, wincing at the tender spot where he'd been darted. He fingered it gently and dropped his arm.

Maybe not the exact same thing. But close enough.

Leo stared at the dripping bricks. The pipes above him rattled with a passing train somewhere overhead, people traveling wherever they wanted, going to places his brothers could only read about or see on television, having adventures or just meeting friends or lovers.

Raphael was wrong. With April, he'd found someone who not only accepted his appearance, but seemed to be attracted to him in spite of it. Leo heard it in the tone of voice she used with him particularly when she thought no one else was around or could hear them, saw it in the way she left her fingertips lingering on Raphael's arms, the way she looked at his brother, as if he were a mystery and a gift, one she was thoroughly interested in unwrapping.

How was that any different from the way Karai had looked at him the other night?

Just the memory of her made his heart ache with yearning. He ran both hands hard over his face, composing himself. April accepting Raphael didn't matter. How Karai might have maybe looked at him didn't matter. It was over. He couldn't see her again. It was impossible.

Someone had spotted him and tried to capture him. No doubt someone from the Foot clan.

The idea that it might have been Karai herself who set the ninja after him once he left her apartment tickled the edge of his reason. He gritted his teeth, remembering their sparring, the way her eyes measured him and his skill, the invitation to come back inside with her, the warmth of hope replacing the colder evaluation in her gaze, how she'd grown disappointed when he insisted he had to go.

"No," he said, voice thick and rough, more growl than words, "it wasn't her."

Thinking on the night, though most of his memory was blurry from the tranquilizer dart, a memory rose up, one he'd forgotten. He froze.

Her voice took shape in his mind: 'I am free two nights from now.'

Leonardo started. Two nights. That was tonight.

He spun around, leaning on the sink for support. Tonight. She'd be waiting for him. He felt the muscles of his legs tense and tremble as if wanting to bolt from the room at that very second, but he held back.

No. I shouldn't.

Slowly, he rose up and carefully exited the laundry room. As he entered the living room, he was greeted by the sight of April embracing and then kissing Raphael, languidly, deeply. He slipped back into the shadows along the wall, heading directly for the back emergency exit.

#

The walls shook, a tumbling reverberation that nearly knock Leonardo from his feet. He stumbled to one side, catching himself with one hand on the mossy bricks. Ears ringing, a sound broke through. The familiar pattern of gleeful chuckling followed by the characteristic snort meaning it could only be one person: Donatello. Straightening up, Leonardo marched through the tunnel in the general direction of the origin of the muffled blast.

As he turned a corner, another vibration started followed by a forceful gust, making his teeth chatter and shell bounce, nearly toppling him off his feet. An eruption of aluminum cans assaulted him. He covered his head and ducked, hissing as particles bit into his exposed flesh. Someone hollered in dismay.

"Oh, snap! Hold it, Donnie!"

The scattering cans clattered to the ground around his feet as he lowered his arms, scowling. He noticed shards of aluminum, in coils and strips, covered his shoulders. Brushing them off, wincing where they dislodged from his skin, he stormed down the length of the passageway where Michelangelo and Donatello were shifting their feet and doing a poor job of hiding what appeared to be an enormous gun behind their shells.

Leonardo looked from one brother to the other.

"Hey, Leo! Didn't expect to see you, heh," Mikey said with a nervous glance at Donatello who nodded rapidly and then shook his head. "Nice night for a stroll?"

"What is that?" Leo pointed behind them.

They both answered at once.

"Nothing," Donnie said. "It's awesome is what it is!" Mikey said, grinning widely.

Donatello rolled his eyes.

Mikey, still grinning, said, "What? It is." Mikey reached out and plucked a piece of embedded shrapnel from Leo's leather strap and flicked it away.

There was a beat of silence as all three stared at one another.

"Does Sensei know about this?"

Donatello looked guilty and shook his head, but then a thought occurred to him and he frowned. "Unlike some of us, I plan on exposing my secret work as soon as it's perfected to the entire family."

Leonardo narrowed his eyes.

"And, just what, may I ask," Donatello pressed, handing the enormous, bulky gun to Michelangelo who took it with a grunt, "are you doing out of the lair, Leonardo?"

Mikey's eyes widened slightly at his brother's tone directed at their leader. His gaze hopped between them as he hugged the sound-cannon awkwardly against his chest and stomach.

"None of your business."

His commanding tone shifted to incredulity, "You're going out again. To see her, aren't you?"

"Get home. Both of you."

Again, they answered together. "Okay," Mikey said. Donatello, firmly, "No."

The three fell into a tense silence. A stare down was happening between Leonardo and Donatello. Michelangelo held his breath, so much for a fun night out with his mad-scientist brother, blowing up things with futuristic sound-blasting guns.

Finally, to Mikey's surprise, Leo was the one who dropped his gaze. Quietly, he said, "I'm just getting some air."

Donatello looked at Mikey, "Go on. I'll catch up."

Mikey shook his head. "No way am I missing this. I always miss the good stuff."

Leo and Donatello both glared at him.

Mikey shrugged, hefting the gun. "All right, all right. Geez. Way to freeze a guy out."

"Charge the gun in the lab as I instructed," Donatello said as he started to leave. Mikey bobbed his head in acknowledgement. Donatello turned to Leo. "So, you wanted to take a walk? Let's walk."

Knowing his stubborn brother wasn't going to relent, Leo pushed past him and made his way down the tunnel to the nearest storm drain grate.

#

The night hadn't managed to shake off the humidity of the day, leaving the air hanging thick around them, an unwelcome woolen blanket thrown over sweating shoulders. Donatello eyed his brother as they stood leaning on the back of wooden scaffolding of an old billboard adorning an apartment destined to be demolished. As Leonardo finally sat down, Don followed his motion, sitting with his shell up against a perpendicular bracket.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the distant rumble of traffic, the occasional burst of an ambulance or police cruiser's siren cutting through the night. Somewhere, a pair of cats yowled, fighting over territory or a potential mate.

"You're lucky," Donatello finally said, breaking the silence.

Leo glanced at him.

"I ran the tests and they came out clean. The drug they hit you with was simply meant to tranquilize you, nothing more than that. Probably wanted to incapacitate you in order to capture you without trouble."

Leo rested one arm across the top of his bent knee. Looking out over the misaligned rooftops, he said, "It wasn't her."

"No." Donatello shook his head and produced a tiny tool from his belt, twisting it between his fingers. He continued shaking his head until he looked up. "No," he repeated. "I'm not surprised you would think along those lines, considering your recent obsessive and delusional behavior. But consider this: even if you were somehow correct, that this Karai hadn't ordered you to be taken, that she's somehow innocent of the entire event, the answer is just as, if not more, disturbing, for it means that others involved in the Foot discovered your . . . interest in Karai."

Neither spoke for a moment.

"If you'd simply be logical," Donatello started. "She's an active member of a highly organized mercenary group. One that had assisted in our capture and near-death. One that had held this city hostage with terror. One that is a direct threat to our existence now that they are aware of that, exacerbated by your continued involvement–" He stopped mid-sentence at Leonardo's expression hardening. He knew that look well; Leo wasn't listening.

He twisted the little tool until it came apart in his fingers. He looked at the fragments in his palm. Closing his fingers over them, he sighed. "But what do I know, right?" He tossed the pieces out across the expanse of the roof in disgust.

The cats had stopped fighting and the night became still, the anticipation of the dream where the sleeper wanders the empty hollowness of an undiscovered astral plane. Seeking answers, or maybe just an escape, for a short time, before the morning brought back reality, with all its demands and mundane hurts, all the loneliness and exhaustion.

When Leo finally replied, his tone was resigned and weighted by a deep bitterness that was uncharacteristic of his usually rather optimistic brother. "This life . . ."

A soft frown puckered Donatello's brow. He spoke slowly at first, "Leo, we have much to be thankful for. Our mere existence is one that borders upon the miraculous."

He sat up, speaking more urgently, more passionately as he went on, reaching out with one hand, "The fact that the mutagen didn't simply dissolve us or-or disfigure our primitive forms, but rather accelerated our evolution equal to that of humans and enhance our intelligence, is beyond comprehensible."

Leo turned his head to face his brother, seeing the wide-eyed, near fanatical glow in his brother's face, the look he got when he was immersed in another of his spectacular inventions.

"This life," Donatello insisted, "is a-a . . ." he glanced around, and met Leo's gaze once more, voice soft but firm, "a precious gift."

Leonardo gave him a broken nod, closing his eyes and feeling his throat tighten. "I'm sorry."

Donatello's hand shot out and gripped him by the shoulder. Their eyes met.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting more," he said. "Just be careful in your choices."

With that, Donatello patted him and together they rose up. He attempted and failed at stifling an enormous yawn, pushing up his glasses with the back of one hand. "The sound cannon just needs a few tweaks, then we can test it out on some real subjects. I was thinking of the junk yard on 43rd, behind the brick yard."

Leo's eyes were glazed, turned inward.

Donatello rubbed his hands together. "If you liked what it did with those cans wait 'til you see it dismantle a pick-up. Scrap metal city!"

His exclamation woke Leo from his daze. He smiled, but it was tight, forced. "Go home. Get some sleep."

Donatello stretched and nodded, then stiffened. He looked at Leonardo with a sidelong stare. "Coming?"

"I'll be home soon."

"Leo," Donatello moaned, shoulders slumping.

Leonardo jumped down from the back of the billboard. He turned his head and not looking at Donatello, said, "I'll be careful."

A/N: In case you missed my note on Tumblr, I plan on finishing this story first, then Lost in the Gloaming and then hopefully, my plan is to finish Sins of the Fathers during the month of November. That's my plan, at least. I did NaNoWriMo the past two years and this year I just want to finish my WIP and get to editing some of my original stuff.

Thanks for reading and, as always, reviews are much appreciated! xo