Ever notice how time is relative?

I mean, sometimes, like when you're watching a TV show or talking to a friend or something else that you're really into, time just speeds by. Two hours? No way, that movie felt like 20 minutes long, tops.

But when you're stuck in math class and the teacher is just standing there droning on and on about quadratic equations or some other crap, and you can swear the second hand on the clock (which you've been watching almost from the minute you got there because you're so damn bored) has either stopped or begun moving backwards. 50 minute class? More like 50 days, or at least 50 hours.

Time flies when you're having fun and all that, right?

Wrong.

See, time is on a F-16 going Mach-5 right now, and I am most certainly NOT having fun. So time doesn't fly when you're having fun.

Time hits light speed when you in a situation where you know your time is up. As in bye-bye cruel world because the Shredder is about to slice and dice me into bite-sized chunks of flesh and bone.

He'd do it, too. Of this I have no doubt. One look into his eyes (and one look is all I managed, because my gaze is now firmly implanted on the marble floor) and I knew I was one mistake away from a precise and painful vivisection.

My vocabulary tends to expand when I'm scared shitless.

"Explain to me again, Thomas," the Shredder says, twirling my absconded bo staff rapidly. While I don't look up, I can clearly hear the fan-like sound the weapon makes as he puts it through its paces. The sound is almost enough to mute the terror that wells up in me every time I hear his voice, especially when he says my name, "how you came to procure this weapon."

"Of course, Master Shredder," I reply smoothly. I don't know if there is another, grander title for him, but so far he hasn't taken offense. I have a feeling the leader of the Hand has no problem articulating his displeasure. Not that I ever want to be in a position to prove my little theory correct.

I reinterate (there's that vocabulary again) what happened and then conclude, "I believe I might have surprised the one in purple. Perhaps he'd thought I was in worse shape than I really was. In any case, if it wasn't for the arrival of the other members of the Foot, I doubt I would have held onto it for long."

"And why is that, Thomas? Were these creatures so much more capable?" The Shredder's tone hardens, and I'm wondering how screwed I'm going to be, "Perhaps our training is inferior to theirs?"

Shit. Jeeze, that's not a loaded question. No, not at all.

'Cause, see, if I'm honest, he's probably going to get pissed and some bastard's gonna have to spent an hour cleaning my blood off the nice, expensive marble.

After he lugs my body to the incinerator, of course.

But if I'm dishonest, then he's obviously going to know (hell, he's probably reading my mind right now), and I'm gonna be killed because I dared to lie to the supreme leader of the Foot.

Think, Tommy, think!

"I'm in no position to speak on Foot training, Master Shredder. I've barely had any, and I'm sure I have so much more to learn before I can consider myself any kind of expert." Okay, I'm still breathing, keep it up, "I was merely predicting the likely outcome as I was outnumbered four to one and had been unsuccessful in single combat with just one of the . . . creatures. I'm sure the experienced Foot ninjas were much more successful."

Although I doubt it. I know I'm pretty good, but those guys (I refuse, now that I'm no longer looking at them, to call them turtles), well, those guys could probably give Hun a hard time. Hell, they might even be able to beat him.

The Shredder sits down. I dare to look at him again. If he's going to kill me, I at least want to see it coming.

Suddenly he tosses the bo staff at me, and I reflexively catch it.

"Well said, Thomas." He steeples his fingers under his chin, and I quickly decide to look back at the floor before I push my luck.

The silence grows like a tumor, but I'll be damned if I'm going to be the one to break it.

I've just about finished counting all the tiles within my view and extrapolated how many this room probably has (hey, I would have had a full ride to the Ivy League college of my choice if I'd had felt half as scared during the SATs as I do in the Shredder's presence), when he finally speaks.

"I begin to see why Hun has such high expectations for you," he lets that settle in my mind for a moment and then continues, "Mine will be higher."

His tone invites a response, but I have no idea what to say. I'm too busy thinking if the hole I've dug for myself will be hitting China soon.

So I stand up straight, make eye contact for a split second, and do my best bow.

"Leave me. You will receive your new assignment tomorrow."

I bow again and do my very best not to sprint from the audience chamber.

I almost make it but find myself jogging by the time I'm outside again.

---

Turns out Foot barracks are not much better then trainee barracks. But at least I have a room now. Too bad I have to share it with Takara.

Fortunately, the bastard's not here right now. Apparently he got wind of my meeting with the Shredder and he's given me a wide berth. I can tell he's pissed, but I also know he's too sensible to do anything about it, at least right now. Somehow I ended up as the Shredder's flavor of the month. Normally I'd be happy to shove that in Takara's face, but my sense of impending doom overwhelms any up side.

I've seen way too many movies where the head bad guy kills his loyal minions because they've failed him. Is that to be my fate? Am I one mistake or lapse in combat away from death? Or even a fate worse than death?

I wallow in self-pity for awhile but am interrupted when there's a knock on the door. I quickly put my mask back on.

I hate it. It destroys my peripheral vision and gets pretty stuffy real quick. But I know what the penalty is to be without it while in uniform.

"Come in," I state clearly and stand up in greeting. Never know when Master Yoshi might come calling.

A Foot ninja enters and closes the door.

Then he stares at me.

He's not of superior rank, so I speak first, "Can I help you?"

The Foot cocks his head and sighs.

"And here I thought I had made an impression on you."

I immediately smile in relief and haul off my mask.

"Geeze, Sato! Don't do that! I have enough stress in my life."

She yanks her mask off as well and grins, "Don't we all, Favorite Son."

"Don't start that crap, Sato. I'd be happier if the Shredder didn't know me at all." Nothing good is going to come from it, I add silently.

"Yeah, but I think it's worth it just to see the look on Takara's face. He's down there in the training center right now, practicing his ass off, hoping one of the higher ups notices him." She gracefully lies down on my bed and stretches, "Don't know where the asshole gets the energy. I'm still wiped out from last night."

For once I'm grateful for the gender-neutral structure of the Foot uniform, because it allows me an even chance to stay focused on the conversation.

"You aren't the only one," I reply, sitting in a nearby chair, "At least you don't have the psychological scars on top of that."

She shoots me a wry look, "Come on, it couldn't have been that bad!"

I crack my neck absently and look at the ceiling, "Let's hope you never know."

"Tom."

I immediately look at her. She's never called me that before.

"Are you okay?"

A half-dozen bullshit responses come to mind, but I can tell she's serious.

She's actually concerned about me.

The sudden warmth and affection I feel toward her doesn't give me any choice but to be honest.

"Not really."

She continues to watch me, eyes telling me that it's all right to continue.

"This is some crazy stuff we've gotten ourselves into," I begin.

She nods, "Yep."

"And everything's just spiraled out of control. I mean, what the hell are we supposed to be doing? Are we bodyguards? Are we assassins? What's our job description? Do we have benefits?"

I add the last one to break the tension.

Sato smiles, "I've heard we have excellent dental."

"Yeah, but the life insurance sucks."

She laughs and I soon join her.

God, it feels good to laugh.

I start to feel better.

"You know, I don't know what I'd do if you weren't knee deep in this crap with me, Sato."

She looks at me strangely, and I realize the possible interpretations of my statement.

"I didn't mean it like that," I continue, lamely.

She sits up, "Sure, you did."

Then she grabs me by my gi and pulls me to her.

She kisses me, and I'm in so much shock that she's already standing and donning her mask by the time I manage to process what happened.

"Keep the faith, Tom. For both of us."

Then she's out the door and gone.

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Author's Note:

Back by popular demand (okay, a little bit of demand). Looks like Tommy's got a tiny fan club, anyway. Thanks for all the reviews.