TMNT and all their characters are the property of Mirage- though they should lose custody because they allowed "Fast Forward" to happen...

Concilliabule (part one)

"It's just that I get tired of not being out in the open."

"I understand completely."

"I mean, it's not like I had a lot of freedom to do as I wanted- considering my line of work- but what I had was precious to me."

"Yes, mine as well. But you did promise..."

"I know! But- These past few months have been the worst of them all. Things had been rather comfortable- almost normal in a way. Then, with the death of Bishop- I truly thought things would be different, but my confinement became almost prison-like."

"Yes. 'Prison-like'. That is how it has felt for me as well. I, too, thought things would be different."

Baker looked at the young turtle, a slight hope in his eyes.

"Then you understand why I need to get out, just for a few minutes- just long enough to phone my friend! Please! We could go together!"

Leonardo shook his head firmly.

"You made a promise- as did I. I would love to go- you have no idea- but I swore to my master that I would abide by his decision. And for the safety of my family as well as for you, I cannot allow you to go topside like this."

The man dejectedly studied the turtle. He knew that against this youth he stood no chance of reaching the surface. It was all too much. He could feel himself folding in; feel the weight of everything beginning to crush him down, to drive him into the darkness of despair...

"Let's go see Master Splinter," Leo's voice cut into the self-pity like a ray of light. "Let's go see if something can be worked out. Please- let's go ask. What can it hurt?"

Besides, I do not wish to have to hurt you, he added mentally to himself.

Baker knew it was hopeless, but he agreed.

They had met up by accident- Baker had become confused, and stood just outside of a large drainage junction, trying to decide if he should climb the ladder before him, or try another, when the Ninja had found him. Wordlessly they had regarded each other- then Leo had motioned to the scientist, and they had gone for a walk.

To his credit, the turtle had seen that the man was not ready to return to the others. He, too, had felt this reluctance to go home. The run in the sewers had done much for his immediate anger and disappointment, but there was still an underlying hurt at the turn of events.

They had walked and talked, and Leo began to see that there were others who were "trapped" by promises and conditions and circumstances- that he wasn't alone as it were.

And, in listening to the complaints and pleadings of the man in response to Leo's adamant assertion that Baker would NOT be allowed to go topside for many good reasons, he had heard himself- and began to understand just a tiny bit what Splinter must be feeling.

But I'm not telling Splinter that.

They slowly made their way home, running into Raph in the process.

"Good," Raph said, falling in beside them easily. "I thought I was gonna have to drag this guy back kickin' and screamin'."

Leo resisted the urge to wonder if Raph had been sent out to look for him- but he had calmed down enough to see that that was a self-centered thought. Of course Raph had been out tracking this man. Baker had told Leo how he had tricked Leatherhead and "escaped".

"That's the trouble with you sometimes, bro," Leo managed to smile. "You act too emotionally."

He ignored the pointed look from his brother. Thanks to the presence of the scientist, Raph was unable to address this properly.

But LATER, he was gonna have a nice lil' chat with Fearless Leader.

Several days passed, and for the ones living underground they had been rather uneventful- except for that brief flair-up, where Mike managed to piss Raph off to the point of the older turtle's beginning to plan the younger's "memorial" service.

Baker had been assured that, if he would just wait a few more days, until it appeared that things topside had settled down, that he, personally, would go with the scientist to a "safe" spot from where he could phone his friend. In the meantime, April was given the information needed to make brief contact with this mysterious woman in the scientist's life, and cautioned against phoning from her home- "I never really thought about it, but it would be within her ability to trace the calls," he had finally admitted. "And I don't wish to drag anyone into this mess any further than they've already become involved."

Meanwhile, when he wasn't being threatened with immediate and painful death at the hands of the still angry Raphael, Mike was putting the finishing touches on the memorial service for Victor. It seemed as if he'd been planning this forever. All the stuff that had happened since he first came up with this idea sure had pushed it far to the back of his agenda.

April refused to buy anymore flowers. The wreath was ready and had better be used, bucko, or there would be hell to pay!

Splinter, also, was adamant that the ceremony finally take place.

"Either do this, or cancel it for good," he had said. "You have made his spirit wait long enough. And you have strained the bonds of friendship and family with your insistence that this creature we have encountered is really your friend."

Mike sighed even as he finished stocking the fridge with the ingredients for the memorial food. He would do the prep work in a little bit, getting the special homemade pizza ready for the oven- then it would only take a little bit of time to cook it after the ceremony.

The copy of "Frankenstein" was sealed into its soon-to-be underwater coffin, and Mike had worked hard on the inscription. Yet as he had struggled over the wording, the image of the man who controlled the rats kept looming before him, like a ghost from a bad dream.

He looks like Victor- well, yeah, those bandages around his face and head make it kinda hard to see- but he moves like Victor- I think- he sounds like- damn it!

At this point he had thrown his pen across the room and given up, slamming doors on his way to the dojo where he beat up a heavy bag that he'd decorated with a crudely drawn caricature of Hun.

Fifteen minutes later, he was back at the writing, and had managed to compose something heartfelt and sincere. And it had made him feel better, made him feel as if a weight had lifted from his soul.

Yes. Victor is dead. I was just trying to hold onto a ghost. Victor is dead. It's time to honor him.

Tonight would be the service. In his room, Mike laid out the special outfit that he would be donning. They would be taking a great risk, going topside to the waterfront, but things had been quiet above ground. Casey had been scoping out the area at night, and apart from the usual stuff that goes on, the Foot and the Dragons were both unusually quiet.

The news had been full of some special series of events that were taking place at the memorial library- Karai was apparently hip-deep in well publicized charity work, and even Hun was shown in attendance of one of the glamorous events.

"That goon is seriously pissin' me off," Casey fumed as he sat on the couch later, watching yet another news report of yet another celebrity-filled evening at the Oroku Sake Memorial Library ("...tonight's gala event is benefitting the Oroku Sake Orphanage that has been set up in the late philanthropist's hometown, located in the Mikawa Provence...").

"That goon cleans up nicely, you have to admit," April couldn't help saying, as a shot of Hun in a fantastically tailored tux rubbed elbows with one of those actresses who supported several orphanages.

The downstairs was crowded with the waiting guests. Splinter, in a nice robe (Mike had insisted that Splinter wear the fancy one he'd gotten him so many years ago, but April had convinced the young turtle that it would have been too "showy" for a memorial service, and perhaps Splinter would prefer this new brown one instead...) was about to go fetch Michelangelo when he appeared on his own, decked out in the shinishozoku.

Everyone was quiet, looking at the self-conscious turtle. Mike grinned nervously, waiting for the cracks and trying to think of some of his own as a form of self-defense.

"You look great," Raph, to everyone's surprise, said, draping a brotherly arm around his shoulder.

Mikey grinned.

"Aww! Thanks, Bro!" he replied, and gave Raph a one-armed hug- and a peck on the cheek as well.

"Shall we begin then?" Splinter asked, as Raph began sputtering and violently wiping his cheek with one hand.

She was tired of this whole thing. The party was going smoothly, and she played her part well, but she was tired of this whole thing.

Her defeat at the hands of her hated enemies burned in her heart, but outwardly she appeared the consummate hostess, gracious, regal, and charming.

The purge of the disloyal from her ranks had been swift and vicious. From necessity she'd had to call in the ninja who had been assigned the task of keeping an eye out for any sign of the Turtles. Then this week of business obligations and "charity" work had interfered with her desire to return to the sewers and personally hunt down every last mutant.

Her desire to bathe her hands in the blood of Leonardo and his family had to be pushed down by her duty to her father's "legitimate" organizations.

Still nursing the same glass of champagne, she eyed Hun as he chitchatted with the rich and famous with an ease that left her feeling envious. HOW was this behemoth so comfortable in this setting? He interacted with everyone as if he'd been to the manor born; he was polite, even to the waiters, never rude or crude or overbearing. He was respectful without being ingratiating.

She smiled in amusement as she pictured the possible reactions of her guests were they to learn of his background; of his "ties" as it were to crime.

Then she shrugged it off and returned to her role as hostess, smiling charmingly and politely, listening to the Mayor of New York who had come to claim her for some conversation with visiting businessmen from Japan whom His Honor was hoping to interest in establishing commercial ties with the city.

Hun, sipping from his own glass, spotted the man he needed to speak to, engaged in a boisterous conversation with a slender brunette. Despite the "social" aspect of this little fundraiser, business was being discussed on many levels. Hun, helping himself to a few hor'dourvesfrom a tray being offered by a waiter, knew that now was as good a time as any to bring up his possibly purchasing that land with the old foundry on it.

The guy had seemed interested in selling, but not in any great hurry. Hun knew that he would have to play it careful, or the guy might raise the price beyond what it was worth. The land alone was considerably expensive, but these things had to be done carefully. There had been talk of preserving the entire site- some historical society-losers wanted to have it declared a national landmark 'cause it'd been founded by some former slave or something...

And Hun did not wish to use it as a public place. He had big plans for establishing his own "business" there, and he wanted as little attention as possible.

As he made his way to the man, the other spotted him, and greeted him with a friendly wave.

"Hey there! Good to see you!" he slurred, slopping a bit of his champagne out of his glass as he pumped Hun's incredibly large arm in a vigorous handshake. "Oops! Sorry, pal. Lemme introduce you to my new friend- Adele- umm... sorry, I forgot the last name."

The woman turned towards Hun and with a shock he recognized her.

"Grant," she said smoothly, inclining her head even as she offered her hand. "And I believe we have met before."

Mikey stood by the river, watching as the specially designed "water craft" carried away the wreath and the book. Except for the regular sounds of the river at night, it was quiet and peaceful. Cold as hell, but a clear sky.

Mike watched as the tribute floated away on the tide. He had been assured by Don that there was no way it could run up against anything in the river or become snagged on anything, or caught by some fisherman or scavenger. Leatherhead even volunteered to follow it along, despite the frigid water temperatures, but Mike had refused this kind offer.

The soft lap of water against the rocks where he stood was all he really focused on, as he strained his eyes in the dark, having lost sight of the floating tribute.

His family and friends were keeping a sharp lookout for any stray Foot, but so far they'd spied nothing. Leo in particular had taken up the most advantageous sight for being lookout, but he detected nothing.

Finally the rat made his careful way down to his youngest, and placed a paw on his shoulder.

"My son," he said softly, and Mike started ever so slightly. "We must return home now. You have completed this part of the ceremony. We must return to the warmth of our home."

Mike reluctantly tore his watering eyes from the dark flowing river and managed a nod and a smile.

"Sorry, Sensei. Guess I kind of forgot that you might be getting cold," he said, and he made his way back up to the waiting group. Then they went below ground again (Baker ever so reluctantly; this brief visit to the surface had made him even more determined to leave as soon as possible), and were soon back home, where Mike put the waiting pizza into the well-heated oven and then setting out the rest of the memorial banquet.

April came into the kitchen to help.

"It was beautiful, Mikey," she said, hugging her adopted brother and kissing his still-cold cheek. "The summoning of the ancestors, the ceremony both here and at the waterfront- all of it. It was very touching. I'm proud of you."

Mike kind of shrugged, though he did enjoy the hug and kiss.

"It just feels..."

"Just feels what?"

Mike fussed with the sleeve of his outfit, half-confused, half-hesitant.

"I dunno. It just feels like it wasn't real. Like it was... well... like it was a play."

April studied Mike carefully.

"You mean you didn't mean it?"

"No! I did mean it! I meant every word of it," he said sincerely. And he had meant it- he'd surprised himself how many times he'd had to keep himself from crying during it all. "I mean... well, it's like I felt... well, like I wasn't me. I mean, like I was watchin' someone playing me. I don't know how to explain it."

He sighed, and looked April in the eyes.

"I just feel like I'm still not sure he's gone. That's all."

April nodded, and hugged him again.

"I felt the same way when my father died," she said. "We did the funeral and everything. We stood by the open casket, we sang, we spoke about him, and we buried him. And yet it was hard to believe that he was gone. Even as I watched them lower him into the grave- it was like that- like you said. It's hard to let go."

Mike wasn't sure that April really understood what he meant. He wasn't sure that Victor was dead- despite everything the others said, deep inside his stubborn brain he was certain of one thing: Victor was alive.

And living with the rats.