296Thanks for reading, all two of you! You're the greatest! TMNT do not belong to me, they belong to Mirage. Dr. Baker, however, is my character, but if Mirage wishes to purchase the rights...
Compromises
"Damn!" Raphael swore, breathing hard, as once again Michelangelo set him back on his tail in the dojo. He had come so close! He had defeated Donatello, and had almost (to his way of thinking, that is) made short work of his baby brother. But Mikey, only fighting at half-strength, had still bested his brother- though he had been sporting enough to offer him two extra chances after the first one when Mikey had taken him out in thirty seconds.
Splinter's critical eye was boring into Raphael's back; he could feel the "I thought so" burning into his shell as he sat there, panting as if he'd run ten miles nonstop instead of fought for ten minutes with his baby brother.
His only consolation was that Leonardo had not even managed to defeat Don. The brainy turtle, also fighting at half-strength (at the secret direction of Splinter) had easily tripped "fearless leader" up within five minutes of the beginning of the bout, and had stunned him a good one across his weak arm (again, at the secret direction of Splinter).
If Raph didn't know better, he would have thought that Don had lost to him on purpose just so Mikey could humiliate him in front of their father. Don, who had taken Leo out so quickly and easily, had fallen to Raph in five minutes! But now, Raph was beginning to suspect that Don had "thrown" the fight...
Naw! That's just paranoia! I won fair and square!
"Hmmm... well, another day below ground," Splinter said needlessly. "Come, let us meditate, and then it is time for your strengthening potion and lunch."
Leo, still nursing his arm, was close to cracking. He knew Splinter was toying with them. He knew that Don had been fighting at half-strength- he'd sparred with him long enough over the years to know the difference- and he knew most painfully of all that he was still too weak. A dark cloud developed in his mind. This was just too much! He HAD to get out of here, to rebuild his strength topside, to be free!
"Meditate!" Splinter's sharp command cut through his pouting; nothing got past Sensei. He knew that Leonardo was dwelling on his frustration rather than calming his spirit and learning from his lesson.
After twenty minutes, he released his sons from the dojo. The smile on his face was not missed by the two eldest.
"I'm telling you, we was set up but good," Raph whispered as they made their way to the kitchen to down as quickly as possible the "strengthening potion".
"Tell me something I don't already know," Leo snapped- then he took a deep breath and apologized to Raph. "I don't mean to take it out on you, bro- we're both in the same situation. I'm sorry I got mad."
Raph grinned- then began planning his next escape attempt. This time he would not use Leo as a decoy- Splinter would not expect a quickly planned trip out of the lair! The less planning the better! Woo-hoo! He should have thought of it before!
Raph with great strength of character choked down the revolting concoction quickly, bypassing eating something on top of it to help dull the flavor as well as settle the stomach.
"I'm hitting the shower," he said as nonchalantly as possible, heading for the bathroom.
Three minutes later, he was out the door, bundled up against the cold, headed for the surface as fast as his legs would carry him.
The closest exit is the best, he kept thinking. The closest exit is the best!
Getting there, staying in the shadows, he gave the place the quick once-over; no one, especially Splinter, in sight!
Out of the shadows, up the ladder, push the manhole cover aside-
Raph was nearly blinded by the sunlight streaming in between the two buildings that sheltered this exit. Squinting against the unaccustomed glare, he quickly exited the hole, breathing in deeply as the sharp, cold air bit against him, burning his nostrils and lungs in a painful yet pleasing way. He stood there for a few minutes, simply breathing in deeply, blinking and winking his watering eyes against the sun and the cold. It was so wonderful! It was cold and wonderful! There in the alley, surrounded by buildings and dumpsters, he flung his arms wide, raised his tearing eyes to the sky, and laughed for sheer joy!
"Rather a nice day, eh my son?"
Raph froze, and not from the cold. As his eyes became accustomed to the natural light after months of enforced imprisonment, he made out the figure of Splinter standing before him.
"Too bad you can not stay longer to enjoy it," he continued mildly.
For a brief moment, Raph considered making a break for it. The mental image of his being tackled to the ground by his father, coupled with the knowledge that even if he managed to escape, he would still have to come back home sometime, prevented him from doing anything other than silently climbing back down into the unwelcoming darkness of the sewers.
He walked back home, refusing to look behind him. He walked into the Lair, got out of his gear, and plopped down on the couch next to Don, waiting for the lecture that was following on furry feet.
Leo, seated in Splinter's chair, spared him one look of pity, then quickly returned his eyes to his book as their father reentered the lair.
"Here it comes," Raph sighed, sagging down as he grabbed a cushion to squeeze the stuffing out of in order to not lose his temper with his father.
Splinter stood over both of them, hands on hips, tail-tip barely twitching.
"May I remind you both of the oath you swore to me?"
Leo blinked.
"I didn't have anything-"
"May I remind you both of the oath you swore to me?"
Squeeeeeezzzzzzzzzzeeeee.
"Sensei," Raph tried as calmly and respectfully as possible. "What if you went with us? Leo and me- please, we're so... so..."
"Stubborn?"
"Please..."
"Disobedient? Unfeeling towards your own father's wishes? Forgetful about how close you came to dying in my arms? Unconcerned with this old rat's emotions?"
"Master Splinter, you trained us up to help you get revenge on the Shredder," Leo, throwing caution to the wind, reminded Splinter. "Which we did, by the way! We nearly all died that time, you included! You trained us to be Ninja! Ninja who kill, and who run the risk of being killed! And you're still upset because we took out Bishop!"
"There is a difference in what you were 'raised to do' as you put it, and what you two did of your own accord," Splinter, having heard this argument before, refused to be baited or distracted by it. "May I remind you both of the oath you swore to me?"
SQQQQQUUUUUUUUEEEEEEEEEEEEEZZZZZZZZZZZZZEEEEEEE!
Deep-deep- DEEP sigh...
Head hanging low, eyes closed in resignation, so pathetic-looking!
"We swore on our honor that we would abide by your decision to not let us go topside until you deemed us ready to resume our duties," Raph said in a flat, defeated voice.
Splinter nodded.
"And yet you both either together or on your own-"
"Yes, we keep trying to escape," Leo interrupted once again. He was so tired of it all. What was Splinter going to do to him for being disrespectful, GROUND him? After all, he pretty much had nothing to lose, and he was feeling the confinement as much as Raph. "Can you blame us? We're sorry! We won't do it again!"
Splinter arched an eyebrow at this normally (yet occurring more frequently) uncharacteristic outburst from Leonardo.
"Do not lie to me," he simply said. "You know that you both will try it again. And again. And again."
Don, hiding a smile behind the sandwich he had been eating, swallowed quickly and looked at his brothers in sympathy.
"Cheer up, guys! There's always afternoon training- and evening training! One of you may actually defeat both of us and get out of here by tomorrow!"
Bap! The pillow hit Don squarely in the face. Since he had been sitting so close to Raph, and Raph had swung it rather than thrown it, it stung mightily.
"Eat your lunch," Splinter told Raphael, walking away from his unhappy sons. "Eat your lunch, and rest up for this afternoon."
He entered his room, prepared to meditate. It was getting harder and harder to catch those two, and he was contemplating just letting them go- and the various punishments at his disposal for dealing with them when they finally came home- when a knock sounded on his door.
"Enter," he said, and was a bit surprised to see Michelangelo walk into the room. His youngest bowed with respect, then sat before his father. "What is it, my son?"
Michelangelo sighed, trying to think how to begin.
"I was wondering," he hesitantly said. "I've been thinking about- you know, Victor, and all that stuff, and about Life and Death, and about- well, you know-"
Splinter took Michelangelo's hand and patted it. If his son would have allowed it, he would have pulled him into his lap and held him as he used to all those years ago. He knew that Michelangelo had felt the death of this Victor very deeply; sometimes he wondered if his son blamed himself for not finding a way to help him; to save him.
"What is it you wish to do? I can see that you wish to do something," he said kindly.
Michelangelo looked a bit embarrassed, unsure.
"I guess I want to do some sort of memorial for him," he finally said. "But I don't know what to do. I mean, it's not like he was family. And it's been a few months. And- well, does it sound dumb?"
And the look he gave Splinter, combined with the emotion behind the question, went to the old rat's heart.
"No, it does not sound 'dumb'," he comforted his son. "It sounds like an honorable thing to do. This being, after all, helped to rescue me. He lost his life fighting our enemy. Honor dictates that we do something to commemorate his memory. This is an excellent idea, my son. And I would be very proud to help you plan it."
Mikey smiled with relief- he truly felt as if a weight had been lifted from his soul.
"Okay! We can start planning tonight after dinner, okay? That'll give me time to make some notes and research and stuff! Thanks, Dad!"
And he hugged Splinter and left the room quickly, already going over the preliminaries in his mind.
Splinter, smiling, went back to his own plans; i.e., what to do with Leonardo and Raphael once they finally managed to escape.
He'd been in hiding for so long now, he'd lost all track of time.
It was so damn cold- yet he refused to find a safe way out of the City or to go to the proper authorities. Though he was staying for now in a relatively comfortable "motel" (he hated to use the word in connection with this place, but what else could he call it?), outside was freezing, and still he refused to seek warmer, safer climates! He stubbornly remained in New York City- and just as stubbornly stayed in hiding!
Even if the news he'd read over the past few months was true; even if the rumors that his one trusted contact had passed onto him were proven to be correct; even if Bishop, indeed, WERE dead- there were still others out there, others who even in this freezing cold winter were looking for him, constantly looking for him!
Thanks to his one trusted contact he was able to stay in warm places at night, and to have more to eat than the "normal" homeless- but even though his friend time and time again urged him to either leave the country or at least the state- or "go to the FBI! They can protect you!", he stubbornly refused.
He had stayed safe this long- despite that one gang's constant search among the thousands of homeless to find him- a fact that led him to wonder at first if his trusted friend was really someone to be trusted. After all, only she knew that he was hiding out among the faceless masses- yet somehow they seemed to know to search.
He'd seen them a few times, hassling some poor homeless men- and then one night, he'd seen two of them show up! They had shown up and stopped the attack- one had thrown a weapon and the leader of the "gang" had screamed so high and so loud it was a wonder that the cops had not shown up all most at once! As he had watched from his hiding place, fearful of moving lest someone discover him, he had briefly considered making contact with them! They could probably help him!
Then they were gone, and he thought better of it. Why would those mutated beings help him? After all, he had worked for the man who had almost killed them in the first place; he had studied their DNA samples, he had marveled at the brief glimpse he'd been allowed of them at that time- so fascinating, even more so than the large mutated crocodile-
The crocodile! He remembered when it- he- had looked at him and had asked him why he was doing these "inhuman things to me? What did I do to you to warrant such treatment?"
He found himself weeping again, weeping and wishing that he could go back in time and be the person he should have been- he should have freed that creature! He should have answered him!
No, he had ignored this intelligent being and had continued with his horrendous experiments- and no justification, no blaming it on the orders of his superior Agent Bishop, was going to change the fact that in that instance, at that time, HE had been the "monster", not (as that bastard Bishop kept insisting) the crocodile. He, Dr. Edward Baker- the real monster in that lab at that time.
A noise outside his room distracted him. Once again he froze in fear; had they found him? Had they finally found him?
A careful peek out the window- nope, just another homeless guy, digging through the trash dumpster near this building, hoping for something decent to eat.
Throwing caution to the wind, he bundled up an envelope of money inside one of his spare jackets, and, keeping a sharp eye out, quickly exited his room, whistled to the guy at the dumpster, handed him the jacket and envelope, and just as quickly disappeared back into the building before any words could be spoken.
Then he spent a sleepless night worrying that it had all been a trap.
Meanwhile, the startled man who had received this gift quickly put on the jacket, counted the money, and headed to a cheap place he knew where he could get a real meal, blessing the unknown benefactor to Heaven the entire time.