A fanfic based on The Other Side of the City

(takes place around chapter 38)

My fabulous friend, Lydja-chan, wrote this for me as a gift, just because she loves me! You can see that she's a fabulous writer, so go read her TMNT (and other) fanfic on here.

She went to the small chest that contained the several sets of spare linens for the room. Chategris was the only one who had so many extras, of some things he was very particular, a crisp clean bed was one of them. She knew why. Everyone knew why.

With a small self-deprecating sigh she pulled out a particularly soft set of red silk sheets. He had not specifically requested them but Sophila knew him well enough to anticipate his hopes for the night.

The music was loud enough to drift up to the top level from the cargo bay. They would dance tonight, to celebrate their leader's victory. He had finally managed to lure his 'ma Cherie' back to the empty shell that was their home.

Her left eye watered a bit and she was unsure if it could be blamed on her lingering injury or the swellings of her own heart. After so many years she know better. Wiping her head against her shoulder so as not to stain the silk she continued her task. Placing the fresh cloth on a

side table she began to strip the bed. Wishing that she could so easily strip her emotions away as well. It was a fruitless endeavor to chase after a man who would never be hers, no matter how many times she shared his bed.

Still, she could never harbor anything approaching ill will for the medicine woman. Phoebe, or Phoenix, as she was now called, had saved her life. Had saved the lives of her friends. What little was left of the Grey Cats were alive only thanks to her. How could she hate such a

woman. Her only crime was that she held the heart of the man the ferret-woman wanted.

Sophila deposited the used linens in the half-melted plastic basket by the door, making a mental note that the sun and heat would make a fine laundry day tomorrow. Returning to the large plush mattress she climbed on it to set the elastic of the top corners before scooting

down to finish affixing the bottom sheet in place. She couldn't help but smell the lingering scent of their leader embedded within the material of the bedding, though the ferret sneered when the taint of several other females were also present. The jealousy was quickly doused when she recognized that some of those scents would never come home again. With a hint of regret she spritzed some lavender water on the mattress before settling the sheet firmly in place.

With a flourish she unfurled the flat sheet, allowing the sea of red to cascade down. It landed in waves, the light of the room catching the raised curves, causing an illusion of hidden forms under the softly settling ripples. She jerkily swept her hand across the plain of the bed, flattening the sheet till it was crisp and taunt. Suddenly flustered and wishing to be done with the task she nearly tripped on the pile of pillows thrown to the floor earlier. She cast them to

their place against the headboard haphazardly then turning away only to turn back quickly and set them in a more appealing arrangement.

The night was hot and she doubted that a blanket would be needed, but ever diligent in her role as his maid, she placed a light coverlet at the foot. She checked the rest of the room to make sure that everything the leader would require was well in place. The room was tidy and the bed inviting. If they had it to waste she would have lit a few candles to complete the scene.

It would have been a waste. The Phoenix did not disappoint her yet. The woman was utterly predictable in her continued refusal of Chategris' advances. This also was a reason for her gratitude to 'le petite Medicienne'. Smiling almost devilishly to herself she retrieved her basket and set it against her curved hip. She brushed her face against the lintel of the door as she exited the room, make sure that her sent was firmly deposited there.

Chategris would return to his room, alone, and find the stage set for much more than slumber. A man of power like him did not take rejection well, despite his deceptively diplomatic acceptance of it to the slip of a woman who served it to him on a regular basis. His ego would need stroking this night. Sophila hummed a bit as she sashayed down the hall. Her lingering presence at his door would remind him that she offered a full turn down service.