Day 9: Collision

It was barely dawn and the army had already struck camp and moved out. It was happening all over the world-armies, hidden from sight by the use of Sentinel-jamming equipment, advanced toward their target bases, ready to strike at the same hour. Ready to fight and to die in a final, spectacularly synchronized effort to destroy the Sentinels. And the MHA army marching on Houston base would have the most difficult task-destroying Mastermold, the intelligent monstrosity behind all the massacre and destruction.

Mike felt exposed, walking at the head of his group of 25. He was a ninja, trained in espionage and assassination...he could fight openly against a hundred opponents, but he usually didn't have to march around to find his enemies. This army thing just wasn't his style. He didn't mind fighting with a group, but this rank and file shit gave him the creeps. He had bad memories of ambushes and unexpected attacks-both from his ninja days and from earlier battles with the Sentinels. He spent every moment half-expecting Sentinels to come stomping out of nowhere to kill them all.

But with a group this large, they didn't have any other options. Until somebody invented teleportation, that is-which wasn't gonna be anytime soon, Mike guessed. The problem with trying to invent things during a war was that all the brilliant people who could do the inventing were either dead or figuring out new ways to kill people.

The army was divided into 7 columns-five of the regular troops, and 2 of Leo's specially trained ninja. Each division had a commander at its head. Mike knew that Leo and Garret were up at the very front. He shifted his pack uneasily; years of carrying a shell on his back accustomed him to backpacking, but it was hot, and the load was weighing him down. He set his features and refused to let his fear, weariness, and waning courage show on his face. If he was tired and afraid, his troops would be too, and the only way he could keep control of them and himself was to be disciplined. When Mike had suddenly found himself a leader, he quickly discovered that Leo's personality contained a lot more than met the eye. Mike could be just as serious, now, if not more so. How could he have ever wondered at Leo's uncompromising sternness? Or his cool demeanor? Or his intolerance for laziness and sloppiness? Having leadership suddenly thrust upon you did a lot of weird things to you.

I can't believe that we just started, and I'm already going nuts. It's gonna be a longgggggg day. Mike tried not to think about the sun blazing down on him. He tried not to think about how much he wanted to lie down and take a nap. And above all, as he took a swig from his canteen, he tried not to think that this was only the second day of three. Too bad nobody ever listened to those doom-prophesying environmentalists...

"Aw, poor baby," giggled the woman. "Look, we made him cry."

"You bastard, who gave you the right to judge us? Look what you've done!" When Raph ventured a glance, his eyes locked on the image. The two were a mess of gaping wounds, with their amputated limbs and heads raggedly sewn back on. Their lean, skull-like faces leered at him, blood dripping from their empty eye sockets. "What's wrong?" leered the man. "Wasn't so disgusting when ya DID it to us....aren't you even proud of yourself? Don't wanna look at your own work?"

"I-" Raph was in a state of shock, no longer cringing, but unable to make his sluggish mind process what was happening.

"You're some excuse for a brother," said a voice bitterly. It was Mike, standing at some distance, with his playful eyes cold and unpitying. "You run off for how many years, and when you come back you turn into some kind of psychotic freak."

"Mike," whispered Raph. "No, it wasn't like that."

"Oh yeah, what WAS it, Raphael?" snapped Leo. "What was it when you killed two people-unarmed, and held down by others so they couldn't fight back? What was it when you burned those people alive? You can never wash that blood off your hands, and I'm ashamed to call you brother. You have no honor."

"Who died and made you judge, Leo?" Raph snarled, snapping back into the habitual anger. "Like you've never killed before-"

"Not defenseless people. And I never had to set fire to them, either," Leo said, the scorn in his eyes piercing Raph, as it always had.

But it hurt far more when Don, emerging from somewhere in shadowed silence, said, "I can't believe it...all these years, and I just now realized what you are. You are everything we've been fighting against. How could we not have seen it? Even Shredder had more honor and more dignity than you."

"Murderer," Mike whispered.

"NO!"

"Yes," hissed the female Tracker. "Murderer."

"YOU are the murderer!" exclaimed Raph, finally coming up with something to say. "You killed my son! You RAPED my son, you sons of bitches! How can you stand there and call me a killer when you, YOU killed a child! An eight year old boy! I may have killed some people, but I never killed children!"

The male Tracker laughed. "That justifies nothing. You can't justify the Melting Pot Massacre. You DO know that's what people call it, don't you?"

"Of course he does," Leo said.

"He knows what he did, and he knew it then, too," Don said. "Why else did he take T'mer and run away?"

"Just like you," Mike said bitterly. "Running out on us again. How do you think that made Splinter feel? How do you think it made US feel, you bastard? You're so wrapped up in your selfish little world that you never even CONSIDER how we might feel about the way you act."

"Mike, I'm so sorry, I didn't. I didn't want to hurt you...." Raph whispered.

"Liar," snarled Mike.

"You know," said Leo nastily. "How you always used to worry that maybe we saw through your little facade, and saw that on the inside, you were really sensitive? That you really cared about us? You were so terrified that your tough exterior would be ruined, that we would all know just how much you cared about us, and get all sentimental on you." Leo paused a moment to sneer derisively. "Did you think we were really that stupid?"

"What?" Raph still whispered, unable to break the unearthly hush that had fallen in the little room.

"You idiot," said Don.

"We always knew that you really loved us," Mike said.

"You didn't say anything," Raph whispered.

"Yeah," Mike snapped. "But who ever said that we loved YOU?"~

"Donatello," the new idiot said in a kindly and sickeningly condescending tone, "Could you please describe your hallucinations to me?"

"What day is it?" Don asked.

"Hm?"

"I want to know what day it is. How long have I been here? When will the army from Pero camp be here?" He'd managed to overhear two nurses talking about the army, so he knew that one existed....when they left camp and when they planned to arrive were still mysteries.

"I don't know if I should tell you that."

"Why NOT?" snapped Don, losing more and more of his legendary patience with each passing minute.

"Donatello, you are in a very delicate frame of mind. It may harm you to concern yourself over such things. I'll ask the head doctor if it's okay to talk to you about that, but for right now we must concentrate on making you well. Will you kindly describe your hallucinations."

"No," Don said angrily. "I will not. I've had this conversation with a dozen doctors since I've been here, and all you do is nod at me and smile. Is there anything you're actually doing for me, besides sedating me? I really would like to know. I have a brain and believe me, I'm completely aware that I'm being put off every time I ask a serious question of anyone around here. Now is anyone planning on actually helping me, or should I start helping myself? This is getting seriously old, and it will stop NOW."

"Donatello, please," the young doctor said in surprise. "You are really not in a position to-"

The doctor had been trained in combat, like everyone in the MHA. But he wasn't a ninja and he wasn't prepared for Don's next, lightning-fast move. Before he was quite aware of what was going on, Doctor Verera was upside down on the other side of the room. Don had simply picked him up and thrown him. Lying on the floor, the doctor was terrified by the sight of 180 pounds of angry green turtle stalking toward him. He began to scream.

Mike shifted over and dropped back to walk beside her. "What is it?" he asked. "Trackers?"

"I don't know. I don't think so-there's only one, a man it feels like. Trackers travel in packs."

This was true, and Mike was impressed by the girl's intelligence and quick thinking. She would be a good officer-but Mike put that thought out of his mind. He had to remain steadfast in the belief that this was the last battle. So...she would make a good ER doctor, quick to decide how best to treat a rapidly worsening patient. Or a good lawyer, fast on her feet at a trial. Or even, God forbid, a particularly speedy and intelligent accountant.

Mike managed to bring his mind back to the current problem before he blurted any of that out. "Where?" he demanded.

"Coming straight out of the west. Perhaps 3 miles shy of us. Getting closer," she reported.

"Nice work," Mike congratulated. He broke into a jog that rapidly brought him up alongside Garret, who silently raised an eyebrow and waited for his report. On his left side, Leo watched them intently.

"Shetner reports a lone man coming at us from the west."

Garret nodded and said in clipped tones, "Send Ramsey, Korfira, and Hower. Tell them not to use their guns unless absolutely necessary." All the fighters carried guns, even the ones with special mutant abilities or powers. But guns were noisy and even a jammed Sentinel might find them if aided by the sounds of gunshots. "Leonardo," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Send one." Leo and Mike quickly dispatched the ordered troops, as Garret sent word back through the columns that they would be halting briefly.

When the four mutants returned, they were accompanied by a tall, slender man. The man carried a pack and a sword on his cloak-clad back, and looked like a totally normal human, but for his coloring. His eyes shone emerald green in contrast to his pale, greenish face. The long, green-black hair framing his face was pulled back into a neat, waistlength braid. The man, if he could still be called one, had a steady gaze that bored into the three leaders as they stood at a distance from the columns, waiting to receive him. Mike stared at those eyes and felt an acute sense of deja vu.

"Shalom." The man's voice was almost totally unaccented, an almost sure sign that he was a nomad.

Garret immediately launched into his inquiries. "Who are you, and why were you headed straight for our group?" Garret could be quite tactful, but when faced by potential Trackers it was often best to be blunt.

"I am just a nomad," the man said quietly. "I am not an enemy and you have nothing to fear from me. I was passing through this region when I deduced from tracks and from the behavior of the local bird life that a large number of people were nearby. I hastened to join you." His eyes passed over Garret, but locked on first Leo, then Mike.

"Why?" asked Leo softly.

"Curiosity, mostly."

Leo wasn't buying. His ear was trained for falsehood, and something told him this man was not telling the truth.

Garret saw his expression. "You're lying," he told the man.

The man smiled, abruptly and widely, showing two rows of brilliant teeth. "That is true. All right. I came here from Pero camp, where I was told that the larger part of your forces were heading for Houston base. I had a horse, but he unfortunately died of heat exhaustion in my pursuit. I have been traveling rapidly on foot for the better part of the day."

"Once again," Leo said. "Why? Why would you hurry to join us?"

"Are you a member of the Mutant-Human Alliance?" asked Garret.

"No. I am not."

Leo looked at Mike, who just shrugged. Something about the man continued to bother him. "He seems harmless," Leo said to Garret.

"Search him," Garret said. The four guards quickly searched the man's person and pack, but found no bugs, transmitters, or electronics of any kind. There was nothing to cast suspicion on him. But Garret remained cautious. "You may travel with us if you wish," he said.

"I appreciate your kindness," said the man in his soft, calm way.

"Whatever," said Garret. "Just see that you behave yourself."

You deserve this, he roughly chastised himself. Lashing out like that was something more like Raph would do-which reminded him that he hadn't even seen the hallucinatory Raphael since the doctors started arriving. Maybe he had just needed company. Or maybe the spirit was still there, inspiring him to go crazy and throw people across rooms. God, he was stupid. Now they thought he was even crazier-how would he ever convince anybody to release him? Stupid, stupid, stupid...

Don didn't speak when a nurse came into to inject him with more of the sedative. He watched the pale blue liquid move down the syringe without a word. As the nurse headed towards the door, Don closed his eyes with a single thought. There's no place like home.

It was near midnight when Mike and Leo, leaving Garret's planning meeting, were met by a messenger. The green man was asking for them. They found him sitting by a small campfire not far from Garret's tent-too close to the center of the camp to make a run for it in the night. He was surrounded by his guards, but ignored them calmly, appearing to notice only the presence of the two brothers as they enter the circle of firelight. "I need to speak with you," he said. "Without the hangers-on, preferably." Even as he mentioned the guards, he didn't give them so much as a glance.

Leo nodded. "Take five," Mike told the guards. "We'll tell you when we're done."

They shifted uneasily. "Garret said-" one began bravely.

"I don't care what Garret said," snapped Leo. "We're hardly about to betray the MHA, we just want a private word with this man. That means no guards. So move it."

The young fighters crumbled under Leo's iron gaze-they moved. The man soon found himself with Mike and Leo on either side, silently staring at him, their eyes glittering with firelight. "Well?" said Leo. "I apologize for being so...demanding," the man said softly. "But I have something very important to tell you." His audience remained silent. "You wish to know why I am here. I will tell you." Still, the silence; what response could either Leo or Mike make?

"I have come because of my father."

Blank stares met this statement.

"It has been years since we parted," the man continued, almost to himself. "And I am no telepath. But there is something about us, some subtle connections which allows me to feel this-to hear my father's very soul crying out for help."

Still the blank stares. Mike tried to formulate his confusion. "But...but what-"

The man sighed heavily and shook his head, seemingly in exasperation with their failure to grasp his train of thought. "My goodness," he said. "Have you not guessed? I am your nephew. I am T'mer."

"T'mer," breathed Mike, eyes widening as he stared anew. Leo slowly nodded, the connection now so obvious to him that he was amazed he hadn't seen it before. He could see the boy he had known in this man's smooth smile, and in the eyes that studied every person's face as if every detail must later be recalled. Leo wondered if he had learned that from Raph, or if he had been staring at people in that way since birth. Leo remembered that Arik had used to gaze at people in that same silent, unutterably calm manner. It made you think, somehow, that he was on the brink of discovering the last mystery in the universe, and if you spoke, it would break his concentration.

That bizarre silence enveloped them now, as Mike stretched out a hand to gently touch T'mer. The two studied each other in an urgent fashion. This wasn't the T'mer Mike knew; he had known a small boy, and this person sitting here was a man, a stranger Mike knew nothing about. Mike's thumb brushed T'mer's pale cheek, and he felt a pang for what might have been. His mind flashed half a dozen images of himself with the boy, and he experienced a sudden upsurge of emotion. Out of nowhere flooded pain and bitterness that Mike hadn't realized he had the capacity for.

The unfairness-that Raph, solitary, bitter Raphael, had been the one to have children. And that Mike had lost his opportunity to be a part of the lives of those children. Unfair. Life had never been easy, or fair, or right, but with a child's stubborn sense of justice, Mike felt entitled to fairness. After all he'd been through, and everything he forced himself to do for the sake of justice and goodness, somebody owed him. And if this was all he could expect to be compensated with...a mockery of his loss and pain...

Mike jerked his hand back and fought to keep the smallest trace of sorrow out of his face. He blinked rapidly and swallowed hard, until his eyes stung and his throat ached with the tears that he refused to shed. Leo didn't react, but T'mer's eyes seemed to acknowledge and understand, perhaps even pity, the pain he saw in Mike. And this pity was what forced Mike to jerk his gaze away from T'mer and direct it into the fire.

"We've wondered what happened to you," he said quietly, hoping his voice didn't sound as awkward and cracked to their ears as it did to his. "But we never saw you all those years. Raph never talked about you. I half thought you were dead."

"Not dead," T'mer said, his face solemn. "Alone. Forgotten. But not dead." There was bitterness there, but Mike, absorbed in containing his own emotion, couldn't see it. It was Leo who now met T'mer's eyes, with their heavily veiled fury. Leo could see the bitterness, could see Raph's temper hiding behind those eyes and that seemingly imperturbable manner. There was a long silence, as Leo gazed at T'mer, and T'mer and Mike focused on the fire.

"No one must know," T'mer finally said, breaking the self-imposed silence.

"But why?" asked Mike.

"I cannot explain it," T'mer said stubbornly. "But please, do not tell anyone else who I am. Not even that man, your leader." Leo and Mike glanced at each other, then slowly nodded their assent. "This struggle means nothing to me. But because I still have feelings for my father, for his sake I will help you in this assault. When the base is taken, when my father is free, I will go. And not even he must know that I was here. I ask you to promise me this."

They both froze. Mike was probably the most surprised. They were supposed to promise not to tell Raph that his son, whom he hadn't seen in years, had returned? It was stupid...why should they promise anything to this man? There was no indication that his help would make much of a difference. And not to tell Raph-Mike, bitterness forgotten, felt his heart breaking on Raph's behalf. But it was Leo, with his unquestionable surety, who spoke first and made the decision for them.

"I don't understand," Leo said, looking into T'mer's fierce eyes. "But I swear this." T'mer looked at Mike, who paused for a long moment before slowly nodding. Leo had made the decision, but Mike somehow felt that it was the right one.

They were startled by the voice of a guard. "Sirs," the guard said, his eyes darting nervously between Mike and Leo. "Garret wants to see you. He says immediately."

"Very well," Leo said. "You and the others may resume your watch."

T'mer watched the pair until they disappeared through the flap of Garret's tent.