Part Thirteen: Donatello



It took a couple of days for things to get back to normal. Raphael spent a lot of time soaking in the hot tub, and sleeping, he didn't talk much beyond the initial dialogue he and Rahab had had, when she first jumped him on his arrival. She left Raphael alone after that, and continued to see Splinter when he summoned her for her lessons.

Eventually Don did make good on his offer to talk with her, because when she came back from a session with Splinter one afternoon,, an envelope was waiting for her.

"It's uh, from Don," Raphael said, when she gave him a questioning look.

She carefully slit the envelope open with a claw, and unfolded the parchment. "Looks like an invitation, I guess..." She glanced at Raphael. "He wants me to have dinner with him."

He rested one hand on his hip. "Alone?"

"I guess so, though I don't think it really matters... uh, is that okay with you?"

He shrugged, and walked away.

"Raphael, if it bothers you, I won't go."

"Hey, it doesn't bother me," he said noncomittally.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure! Go ahead!" He flicked his hand at her in dismissal. "I've seen enough of Don these past few weeks."

"What- what should I wear?"

"He likes black."

"Honey!"

"I was kidding. Just wear something nice... but uh, not too high or tight, like that little purple dress I got ya..." He grinned wickedly at her.

She returned it with a prim smile. "Yeah, fun thing to get into, that one. I don't think I could, now." She looked down at her abdomen. It was beginning to take on the proportions of a small watermelon. An amusing thought came to her. So that's what Mike meant...pushin' the ol' watermelon. "I'm getting out there..."

"Yeah," he said, looking her over. "You ARE getting a bit zaftig, aren't ya?"

She started to retort in friendly annoyance, but saw he looked pleased, in spite of his fatigue. She grasped his neck and rubbed noses with him. "I'm doing just fine, Daddy. You sure it's okay if I have dinner with your brother?"

"Hey, I said it was. As long as you're up to it. I need a little time to myself, tonite. You know, recupe," he said, and stretched.

"Hmmm, who's it going to be, your friend 'Jim' or your good buddy 'Jack'?" she teased.

He snorted. "I wouldn't worry too much about that. I'm probably gonna take another forty zees, it's gonna be a real quiet evening."



As she made her way down the lantern lined path, she did what she could to calm her frantic thoughts. Was her dress all right? Was her hair okay? What if she gave him the wrong impression? Raphael had repeatedly reassured her that she had met HIS approval at least. Why be nervous, she asked herself. She wasn't going on a date, or a job interview! It was a family event, a chance to get better acquainted with Don, who referred to her as his sister. He had added a note at the bottom of the invitation: "To make up for dinner interrupted in N.Y." Funny how he had mentioned that. Kind of odd grammar. Maybe he had written it in a hurry, or he knew better grammar than she did. Everything he did seemed flawless, could he have made a mistake? Why was she obsessed with something silly like that? Why even worry?

She came to the front door of Don's translucent house, and looked for a doorbell, but there was none. The house was constructed in the old fashioned Japanese style, so how does one knock on a paper door? Suddenly the door slid open, and Don was standing there in a robe the color of charcoal, with some sort of three leafed design embroidered in a lighter shade of grey on each side of the front, and int he exact center of the back.

"Evening, Rahab." He bowed a little. "Please, come in."

She looked at his robe. "Am I early? You mentioned seven..."

He glanced at his watch. "No, as a matter of fact, you're two minutes and forty five seconds late."

"Oh," she said, feeling confused, until he chuckled.

"A little joke, Rahab. Come along." He led her to a room with a low, perfectly set table in the center, and thick padded cushions arranged on opposite sides. "I assumed you wouldn't mind sitting on the floor, or would you prefer a chair?"

"That's okay, I'd like to sit on the floor, it's more comfortable for me," she said quickly, gathering her skirt to settle on one of the cushions. "You can go ahead and get dressed, I'll be just fine, here."

"I am dressed," he said, as he kneeled gracefully at his place.

Rahab stared at his robe again. "Uh, I'm sorry, I thought that was your bathrobe..." she said, and giggled nervously.

He gazed at her calmly, his white teeth showing a little in a slow smile. "It's a type of housecoat, Rahab. It is traditionally worn on informal occasions, such as this."

"Maybe I'm overdressed, then?" she said faintly, smoothing her long skirt over her knees.

"You look very nice. As long as you are comfortable, I wouldn't give it another thought."

"Yes, I'm comfortable."

"Good." He looked her over, another moment, then gestured at a couple of covered trays stacked neatly on top of the other on a side table by his side. "I took the liberty of arranging the menu, have you ever had sushi?"

"I've heard of it," Rahab said, looking around. "Isn't that... raw fish?"

Don's brow furrowed. "That's a bit like calling squab pigeon." He picked up one of the trays. "Are you willing to try it?"

When she nodded, he took off the cover, and she looked at the neatly arranged rows of fat, multicolored buttons. She sniffed cautiously, but it didn't smell as she expected. He pointed to her chopsticks, and she carefully arranged them in her hand, and managed to catch up what she aimed for. She brought the button close to inspect it, and taking a breath, popped it into her mouth. As she slowly chewed, she made a sound of pleasant surprise. He watched her soberly, though she could see he was fighting to keep his composure, as he set the tray at her place, and set the other at his.

"These are incredibly good," she said, when she could speak.

"Definitely. Less than an hour ago these were still swimming." He winked at her.

The rest of the meal was light, but satisfying, and they finished up with tea, which he poured for her with great precision. Since she had arrived, she had not seen another soul. Odd, she thought. Usually somebody was around at Don's elbow, she expected people to be there to serve the meal, but Don had done it all himself. Not that anyone could have done it better than he, at giving someone the royal treatment.

"I trust the meal was satisfactory," he said, after taking a sip from his cup.

"It was... perfection, Don. Marvellous."

He lowered his head and smiled a little.

"Do you have a girlfriend," she asked before giving it any thought.

"No," he said, after giving her a long, wary look. He set down his cup. "I never had time for that sort of thing."

"I'm sorry, I guess it's none of my business," she said, after an uncomfortable silence.

"No need for an apology, Rahab," Don said reassuringly. "I've heard that question many times before. You see, there are a great many 'powers that be' out there that have offered me their willing daughters in marriage. Some offers were very tempting, some were not, but it would have caused some ill will among those families if I had chosen one daughter over another." He had taken up his cup again, and was holding it delicately between finger and thumb. "I either had to take them all, or none of them. It was easier to choose the latter."

"But... "Rahab asked, feeling bold again. "What about raising a family?"

Don laughed aloud, startling her. When he recovered, he gazed at her in amusement. "As if I had a choice, my dear. As of now, you would be the prime candidate for that position... do you think that has not crossed my mind?"

Rahab swallowed. "What are you trying to say, Don?"

He set his cup down noiselessly, and leaned a little toward her. "I'm not trying to say anything, Rahab, I think I've said it all. Case closed, end of discussion." He said the last sentence softly.

"Don... I just was wondering, how you feel about becoming an uncle again."

He breathed out slowly, his eyes unfocused. "I like it, of course," he said at length. He suddenly looked at her. "Tell me, how do you feel about being the only one who can procreate, from among the four of us?"

The directness of his question startled her, but he looked congenial enough. She cleared her throat. "Uh... sometimes it gets... confusing."

"Why?"

She looked at him again, but his face wouldn't tell her anything. "Sometimes I feel like I have some sort of obligation..." she said hesitantly.

Don was shaking his head even before she finished. "No," he said. "There is no obligation."

She opened her mouth to answer, but he held up a forefinger. "Rahab, I'm not about to press the issue, where there is no argument."

"But-"

"NO," he said sharply. His dark eyes blazed. "Thoughts are like birds, Rahab. One cannot prevent them from flying over one's head, but one can prevent them from nesting there. Is that clear?"

She nodded mutely.

He relaxed again, and poured himself another cup of tea. She picked up her cup, and stared into the depths. She could see bits of tea leaves lying at the bottom. She'd heard somewhere that people could read tea leaves, to predict the future, maybe learn of the past...

"Don, may I ask you something personal?"

"You may, though it will be my decision to answer it."

She swirled the leaves in the bottom of her cup. "Why do you have so much- you know- money?"

"Why do YOU think I have so much money?"

"Well, I know you like to have nice things, have people do things for you, go to a different place every weekend, travel..."

"Money is power, Rahab. The more you have, the more you can accomplish," he said evenly. "The more people will accept you for what you are."

Rahab looked down into the cup. The leaves were in a different pattern. What, if anything, were they saying now? When she looked at Don, his eyes were distant. "Don?"

He seemed to come out of a trance. "Forgive me, I'm still recovering from our recent, ah, sortie." He breathed deeply, and automatically straightened everything at his place setting.

"Sortie?"

"Skirmish, battle."

"How did it go... may I ask?"

"You may. It went well, as battles go. Any battle is a success if we can walk away from it."

"Too bad about Mike, isn't it?" Rahab said.

"Yes it is. He made some mistakes, and now he is experiencing the consequences. It can happen to anyone."

"Maybe he let his problems get the best of him... maybe... I created some for him."

"I don't think so, Rahab. Everyone has their share of problems. Some have more than others, some have less. It is said that one creates most of his own problems."

Rahab nodded. "Now that I'm thinking a little more clearly, I believe you're right. I think most of what I think are my problems are not mine at all."

"So, you have been listening to Splinter after all," Don said, looking pleased.

Rahab smiled. "I have, but the more I learn from him, the more I realise the knowledge has been there, inside of me all this time. It was a matter of allowing myself to really...think. If I can quiet the noise in my head, then my thoughts can go into their natural, problem solving mode."

Don laughed. "Ah! Then you know what makes an excellent teacher. One who does little more than point the way, as they seek on their own paths." Don leaned forward, his eyes bright. "What have you noticed the most about Splinter's methods?"

She thought a moment. "Hm. He just... Sometimes I seem to be the only one who talks, and he just listens." She shrugged at the end of the sentence.

"Why did you do that?" Don gestured at her.

"Do what?" She looked around, puzzled.

"This." He imitated her shrug.

"Oh! I dunno."

Don's white teeth flashed in an amused grin. "You did it again."

She giggled. "Habit, I guess."

"Do you know what that tells me?"

"What?"

"That you are still very unsure of yourself. You just told me something very important, then discounted it with a gesture that said:'Don't take what I say too seriously, I don't know what I'm talking about.' That's not a very effective way to communicate, is it?"

"You're right. I shouldn't have done that. There's so much to remember..."

"It takes time, Rahab. To quote an overused saying, 'Rome was not built in a day.' No one is born knowing everything, knowledge must be obtained, one step at a time."

"I'll bet YOU were," Rahab said mischievously.

"What is that?"

"I'll bet you were born knowing more than anyone! Is there anything you DON'T know?"

Don smirked. "There is always something I don't know, Rahab, that is why I ask questions."

"You must have asked a lot of questions... to get where you are now."

"And where is that?"

"Perfection."

His smile faded. "Surely you know better than to say that, Rahab."

"Okay, so you're NOT perfect. But you are the closest thing to it, besides Splinter."

He sighed. "We all have our weaknesses. The more you know someone, the more their weaknesses become apparent."

"Then tell me, Don, what do you think your weaknesses are?" she said boldly.

"Perhaps you can tell me," he said, looking askance at her.

"I couldn't tell you-"

"Yes you can. Trust your senses. Go on."

Rahab straightened, and felt her back crackle as it adjusted. She breathed slowly and quieted her thoughts, as she gazed at him. He calmly returned her gaze. "Okay," she said at length. "You rely too much on yourself, you work too hard and you hate it when you make a mistake, even though nobody ever notices."

He opened his mouth a little, then laughed quietly. "You are partially right, my dear Rahab. I do hate making mistakes. But, work too hard? Never. Do I rely too much on myself? Perhaps, depending on the situation."

"Hey wait, I know!" Rahab said suddenly. "You have this bizarre thing about... cleanliness. Things never seem clean enough for you, do they?"

He lowered his brows. "Do you consider that a fault?'

"It would be, if it were an obsession."

"Is it an obsession?"

"I don't know, Don, is it?"

He stroked the side of his upper lip as he stared at her thoughtfully. "I don't know, Rahab. If one is not aware of his faults, then that, in itself, is a fault. If one is aware of his faults, then he is closer to perfection. It is... a paradox."

"What is a paradox?"

Don cocked his head at her. "You were a scientist, and you don't know the definition of 'paradox'?"

Rahab shifted uncomfortably. "Right, Don. I WAS a scientist. I don't remember much about my past, it 's too scattered."

"Paradox, in the abridged version of Webster's dictionary, is: 'A statement which seems opposed to common sense or contradicts itself, but is perhaps true.' Life is full of them."

"I suppose they are..." she said faintly. She was beginning to feel tired. There was something about talking with Don, that mentally drained her. Don had so much energy... her mind seemed slow and awkward compared to his. Time to change tactics, a voice in her head said. She was surprised to hear that voice, who was that? Something in her dim past, forgotten but still there, spoke to her at times. Usually when she was feeling insecure, or frightened.

"Don, don't you ever get lonely?" Her voice took her by surprise.

"What do you mean?" he said, warily.

The cautious expression on his face told her she was entering sensitive territory again. Better tread carefully, she told herself. She remembered that withering look he had given her long ago, when he had caught her attempting to eavesdrop on him. Despite Raph's reassuring presence, she had been pretty frightened of Don. He wasn't anything like that now...

"I mean, don't you have anyone you can really talk to, like close friends? People you can... drop your guard with?"

He grinned. "Sure. What do you think we're doing?"

"I hardly think you have dropped your guard."

Don eyes seemed to lose focus on her, as though his attention was turning inward. "I can never completely drop my guard, Rahab," he said softly, after a pause. "You can decide whether or not that is a fault, but I see it as a survival tactic. Do you know why?"

"How should I know?"

In answer, he stood up and untied the belt of his robe, letting the garment slide from his right shoulder to reveal a long, deep, diagonal crevasse that left a noticable dent in his otherwise taut deltoid. The muscle, which normally attached to the top of the arm in a solid mass, only did so at the back quarter, closest to the junction of his shoulder blade.The rest did not quite line up properly. "Take note of this."

"Oh, wow, Don. No wonder you wear..." she breathed. "How terrible... how did you-"

He deftly retied his robe and knelt at the table, before he answered. "I was attacked in my sleep."

"By... ninja?"

"Yes. She was my administrative assistant. A friend."

"A friend?"

He nodded absently, his eyes on hers.

"How did she... catch you asleep?"

"We, ah, spent a lot of time together."

"Oh," Rahab said, low. "I guess that was a foolish question."

"No question is foolish if it is asked in sincerity," Don said. "How else does one learn?"

"Women can be ninja, eh?" Rahab leaned her elbows on the glossy black surface of the table and laced her fingers in front of her. "Very interesting."

"Yes," Don said slowly. "These particular ninja are known as the Daughters of the Dragon. They are a clan of subliminally trained female warriors, that is, they are led into a state of hypnosis by a ninja master, and given detailed instructions over a period of several sessions, without ever having any recollection of that training. Therefore they could never disclose their secret mission. They only go into action at a specified time, or at some sort of remote signal only they will recognize. Generally their job is to hit someone who cannot be reached by normal methods of assassination... such as myself." He paused, and breathed out quietly. "They are a type of 'clean ninja', as there are no visible signs to indicate they are members of a clan- the sign of the dragon is imprinted in their minds. They can go on and live a perfectly ordinary life for years and be virtually undetectable, until they feel that given signal to strike. Because one would not expect trouble from such sweet, innocent looking creatures, these ninja are particularly dangerous, because they are young, beautiful, and very charming."

"So, it was an assassination attempt... on YOU," Rahab said in awe. "What happens to these women if they don't succeed, or if they are captured?"

"They immediately commit suicide when the mission is completed, regardless of their success."

"Ouch. I'm sorry," she said, gently patting his hand. "That must have been a blow."

"Yes... it was." Don looked at the table, and glanced up at Rahab. "I was in love with Bara. I trusted her implicitly, and I honestly didn't think she was capable of hurting a mosquito. You can well imagine the shock of awakening to see her standing over me, in the position to behead me with my own katana. I moved, but not fast enough. Another mistake, I underestimated her speed. She made a good strike, but missed my carotid artery by inches. It wasn't until after she was dead, that I realised my right arm was nearly severed, and I was losing blood..."

"Ooh, Don, please!" Rahab grimaced. "You don't have to talk about all that, you know."

"No? If you are going to ask a question, you should be prepared for the answer," he said, suddenly annoyed. "Everyone else in this family knows the story. YOU might as well know about how the 'great' Donatello was nearly done in by his own sword, at the hand of a woman, no less."

"She obviously wasn't just any woman, Don."

He closed his eyes wearily. "No. She wasn't just any woman. She was... a Trojan horse."

After a respectful silence, she gathered herself to stand up. "Well! It's been a very interesting and enlightening discussion, Don, and I thank you. I hope you don't mind, I'm feeling a little tired, though..."

Don shook himself out of his reverie and peered at his watch. "Nearly midnight," he said, as he got to his feet. "Forgive me, Rahab. I don't usually forget the time. Allow me to walk you to your door."

"Sure, if you want. I'm sure it's safe," she said, smiling at him.

He smiled in return, though it looked as though he were forcing it.

Just before they went out the door, Rahab put her hand on his arm. "I appreciate you telling me this, Don, I'm sure it was difficult to talk about."

He nodded. "It was. It's been twenty -eight months, now, and it's getting easier as time passes. Time does heal, if you allow it."

"Do you think you'll ever...get into another relationship?"

"That is a difficult question to answer at this point, Rahab," Don said as they walked up the path together. "I take each day as it comes, it is all I can do."

They reached her place. "Raph must be asleep," she said quietly. "All the lights are out."

Don waited until she went inside. "Good night, Rahab. Thank you for your company."

"Your welcome, Don, the pleasure was all mine," she said.

As their eyes met, she sensed a kinship, a new understanding: He had feelings and emotions, after all. Don was no longer a strange god, he was... family.

Next section... Rahab 14

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