Fade

Part 18

By Dierdre

AN (Part 2): Many thanks go out to the glorious Reinbeauchaser, who kindly pointed out a few discrepancies in this chapter. No major changes, really, although I did add a few paragraphs in the middle of the chapter. Domo arigato, Rein-san! (Bows low)

I gripped the filter in my teeth and snapped open my Zippo. Wrinkling my nose against the sharp smell of butane, I closed my eyes, protecting my night vision as I flicked the striker and lit the cigarette with the distinctive sound of crackling tobacco leaves. The smoke burned its way down my throat in a pleasant fire, and I could feel the tightness in my chest ease almost immediately. With a contented sigh that forced fine tendrils of smoke from between my teeth, I pocketed the lighter and used my good hand to lever myself up and over the high rooftop barricade.

The metal fire escape barely creaked as I landed on the highest balcony, although I paid for the drop in the form of sharp twinges that peppered my injured forearm. Freezing out of habit, I peered over my shoulder and surveyed at the window just inches behind my shell. I waited for nearly a full minute before allowing myself to relax, confident that the faded blue shades would not part to reveal a curious face.

Removing the cigarette from my mouth, I flicked away a column of ash with a quick tap of my thumb. I exhaled a plume of smoke and watched as ribbons of milky white coiled toward the sky like tiny dragons, before shredding themselves into oblivion.

The air was unusually still tonight, heavy with the smell of ozone and electric with the promise of a coming storm. A low ceiling of clouds loomed just above the tops of the surrounding buildings, colored a sickly reddish-yellow by the eternal city lights. Distantly, thunder rumbled; an ominous sound in the unnatural stillness, like the Devil clearing his throat.

It was a night that was primed for sin, an irresistible temptation for those who lived in shadow and stepped lightly around the law. A fact that seemed terribly apropos, since I was about to commit a crime.

A final drag of my cigarette yielded nothing but the sick taste of the fiberglass filter, so I flicked the butt into the alleyway. As it impacted the far wall and dropped out of sight, trailing a comet’s tail of golden sparks, I swung April’s backpack off my shoulder and set it at my feet. Crouching down, I carefully unwound my clothing from the jumble of weaponry and smashed computer parts. I dressed as quickly as I could, tugging the hood over my head and grimacing at the unpleasant, scratchy feeling of the cloth around my neck. How humans could stand being constricted like this all the time, I had no idea.

Once again shouldering the backpack, I began to descend the fire escape, testing each step with care before daring to put my weight on it. Although it was still dark outside, it was not so early that I could count on everyone in the apartment complex to be asleep. With my luck, all it would take would be one metallic creak, and the only insomniac in the building would hear it and sound the alarm. I wasn’t worried about being caught, but my task would be nearly impossible to complete if I had to waste time dodging the cops.

I paused at the last level on the fire escape, pressing my side against the brickwork next to the windowsill. The window was open a crack, and I nearly fell off the balcony when someone unseen let out an explosive snore. Feeling my heart pound out a drum solo in my chest, I gripped my sais through the holes in my sweater pockets and willed myself to calm down. Christ, I was jumpy as hell tonight.

When my muscles unknotted enough to let me move, I let out a steadying breath and stretched over the rail, peering passed the edge of the building. The street on either side of me was deserted, almost preternaturally still, with no wind to stir the trash or to ruffle the flags hanging from the light poles like forgotten Christmas garlands. The only sign of life was a piebald cat, which slunk wraithlike down the middle of the street. Even as my gaze settled on it, the cat stopped and crouched; nine pounds of ratty fur and coiled intensity. Slowly, its head turned, and it fixed me with unblinking, demon-bright eyes.

An odd chill traced a line down my spine, and I shrank back, letting the deep shadows hide my form. When I looked back a moment later, the cat was gone.

Feeling like a fool, I cursed under my breath and reached into one of my belt pouches, fishing out a shuriken. With my left hand, I absently walked the sharp weapon over the tops of my fingers and stared across the street. My target was a long-term parking lot, framed on three sides by the EZ Storage building, and protected street side by a high chain link fence. The gate was padlocked twice over, and a small security camera, bolted into the left corner of the lot and nearly hidden in shadow, panned sedately from side to side

I shook my head at this elaborate setup. There just wasn’t any trust in the world anymore.

The hidden sleeper let out another window-rattling snore; a subtle reminder for me to cut the crap and get down to business. Without further ado, I shifted my grip on the throwing star, drew back my hand and flicked my wrist expertly, sending it whirring through the air like a partridge.

Accompanied by the sharp crack of breaking plastic, I dropped the last story into the trash-strewn alley, barely feeling it when the concrete ground into my callused heels. April’s backpack was sandwiched between my shell and the wall as I pressed myself against the brickwork, waiting tensely for the tinkle of falling glass to die away. The noise seemed so loud in the quiet street that I half expected to hear the rustle of a parting curtain, or the sound of a sleepy human voice raised in alarm.

When only the rumble of thunder and the sound of distant traffic met my ears a full minute later, I took a deep breath and bolted across the road. I reached the fence in seconds and used the momentum of my run to leap up, hooking my hands and feet into the top links. Before the fencing had a chance to rattle and shake, I launched myself away, landing for an instant on the hood of a black SUV before dropping silently to the ground.

A muted clatter of settling chain link sounded at my back as I ran in front of a long line of parked cars, plucking my shuriken from the mangled camera before the noise petered out. Pocketing the weapon and simultaneously dropping to the ground, I pressed my shell against the side of a rust-streaked Buick. I waited a full minute before daring to move again, but caution still kept me low to the ground as I began to thread my way through the cars.

Simply breaking a window would attract too much attention, both now and on the road, and my lock picks weren’t designed to open a car door. Left with only one other option, I began to cautiously test door handles, sticking to early model cars in the hope that I wouldn’t set off an alarm. The thunder growled its disapproval of my search, and the wind picked up as the storm began to gallop towards me on iron-shod feet, kicking up sparks of bright lightning.

I could all but taste the rain on my tongue when I finally hit pay dirt. The fifth door I tried opened with a faint rasp, and I immediately slid into the driver’s seat. I silently thanked the owner for their neglect as I eased the door of the pastel blue station wagon shut.

The air inside was thick with the smell of disuse, and I couldn’t help but snort at the sight of the Hello Kitty air freshener, dangling ineffectually from the rear view mirror. Not exactly the most glamorous get-away car, but I’d take what I could get.

As if responding to the sound of my amusement, there was a deafening clap of thunder from directly overhead, and the flash of lightning that preceded it had not yet died away when the sky split open. Fat droplets of rain began to ping off the windshield, slowly at first, but rapidly picking up speed. In the span of a few moments, sheets of water were sliding down the glass like a miniature waterfalls, distorting my view of the parking lot.

The storm would be helpful in masking my movements, but it was also a double edged sword, because the pounding rain was rendering me blind and deaf to the outside world. It made me nervous as hell, so I wasted no time sliding back the driver’s seat so I would have more room to maneuver.

Wrapping my good hand around the steering wheel, I curled my wounded arm against my plastron and awkwardly pulled my right leg up, pressing my heel against the worn leather on the other side. My steadying breath was drowned out by a crack of thunder, and its echoes were still ricocheting between the buildings when I threw all my weight into my right leg.

The wheel screeched and shifted noticeably to the side, and I quickly pushed with the palm of my hand, forcing the wheel towards the driver’s side door. The steering column groaned and creaked as I repeated this motion again and again, the vehicle rocking like a senior’s car on Prom night. I looked like a pretzel and felt like a fool, and I swear I could hear the ghostly voice of Mikey, laughing at me from beyond the grave. Too bad he wasn’t here with me now, so I could smack him a good one.

After nearly a full minute of this, my tired muscles were beginning to spasm and weaken. I was about ready to give it up as a bad job, when-

CRACK

The sound of the breaking steering lock was like a gunshot in the closed confines of the car, and I let out a curse as my heel slipped off the wheel and slammed against the dash. The volume knob popped explosively off the FM radio and ricocheted off my shoulder, before vanishing into the back seat. The knob actually stung a little, and I muttered uncomplimentary things about its ancestry as I straightened in the seat.

Stage one complete. Next on the agenda: actually starting the damn thing.

I reached down, stretching out my arms until my forehead was pressed uncomfortably against the steering wheel. For a short eternity, my insensitive fingertips scrabbled uselessly beneath the steering column, but my persistence was finally rewarded when I hooked a fingernail on the edge of the cowling. The plastic was old and brittle from many years of sun exposure, so it took only a few quick tugs to rip the protective sheath away. With the ignition column fully exposed, I tossed the length of cowling into the backseat to keep company with the volume knob.

The storm pounded a million watery fists against the roof as I brushed the back of my fingers against the ignition barrel, feeling my way downwards until I encountered the ignition cap. With my right hand on the cap, I reached behind my belt and found the largest pouch, which contained an essential tool for every Ninja on the go. A Leatherman Core, battered and scratched from years of hard use.

Pulling the tool open with my teeth, I folded it back to expose the pliers, and then prized the cap off with a grunt of effort. Flipping the cap over my shoulder like an oversized coin, I closed the Leatherman again and levered out a flat-head screwdriver from the side, hearing the tinny click as it locked into place. I found the groove at the end of the ignition barrel and inserted the screwdriver blade into it, pressing firmly until the Leatherman could hang without support.

Drawing back my left hand, I rammed the heel of my palm against the base of the tool, forcing the screwdriver deep into the ignition barrel. I smacked it twice more, just for good measure, and then curled my aching fingers around the Leatherman’s handle. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Truth time.

In the end, it was all rather anticlimactic. It only took a single twist of the handle to make the engine sputter, cough alarmingly, and then roar to life with a sound like an incontinent lion. I indulged in a little ‘Ha!’ of triumph, before opening the car door and venturing out into the howling dark.

The rain lashed at my eyes and face, falling so hard and fast that it felt like needles against my skin. By the time I reached the gate, my clothes were soaked through, forcing me to fight with the loose, dripping cloth to get to my belt. With my eyes squinted almost shut against the rain, struggling to breathe as the wind forced tiny droplets of water passed my lips and down my throat, I extracted another shuriken.

I ignored the pricy combination locks completely, and instead used the razor-thin edge of the weapon to prize the linchpins out of the gate hinges. The last pin dropped to the soggy concrete even as the wind ripped the gate from my hands and slammed it against the chain link fence. Still held upright by the useless padlocks, the gate rapped repeatedly against the fence, as if to drown out the storm with its own desperate groans and clatter.

Spurred by this clanking, an audible reminder of the crime I was committing, I spun on my heel and ran back to the car. I slammed the door shut, put the car into drive and hit the gas, peeling out of the parking lot with rather more speed than was necessary. The station wagon roared down the street with the windshield wipers running furiously, and it was only when I nearly hit a street lamp that I thought to turn on the headlights.

This near miss was enough for me to remember caution. I fought the urge to punch the gas pedal through the floorboards, and had almost gotten the vehicle to a reasonable speed by the time I reached one of the main roadways. I kept my head bowed and the sodden hood low over my forehead as the occasional car passed me in the opposing lane, their headlights turning the rivulets of water on my windshield into ribbons of pale gold.

As the EZ Storage lot faded into memory, the adrenalin in my veins drained away, taking with it most of my body heat. I was beginning to shiver hard, and my teeth chattered audibly as I reached out with my right hand, cranking the heater up to full blast. The heating system worked like a dream, and within five minutes the air inside the station wagon was like a sauna, drawing moisture from my clothing in tiny wisps of steam.

Slowly but surely, my muscles began to warm, and my shivering slowed nearly to a stop. I automatically reached into my belt pouch for a cigarette… only to discover that the rain had insinuated itself into the supposedly waterproof pocket, soaking the cigarette pack so badly that it began falling apart in my hand. With a heartfelt curse, I tossed the sodden clumps of tobacco into the backseat. I was born under a bad star, I swear to fucking God.

Without the soothing rush of nicotine, I was instead forced to concentrate on other things. Such as the knot of worry in my gut, and the ember of guilt that was even now burning a hole in my chest.

This wasn’t my first encounter with Grand Theft Auto. I had stolen a car once before, over three years ago, while Casey lounged in the passenger’s seat, doling out pointers and generally making a nuisance of himself. Since the car had belonged to a drug dealer who got his jollies by roughing up his female clients, however, I didn’t think it counted.

But this vehicle had probably belonged to a decent person, some upstanding citizen whose life would now be the poorer because of my actions. It didn’t matter that the theft had been necessary; I could still hear my father’s reproving voice, and see the disappointment in his eyes.

The Hello Kitty air freshener dipped and fluttered under the onslaught of the heating vents, and the sight of it made my hands tighten on the wheel in a sudden fit of anger. Damn Karai. This was all her fault.

The building where Karai had set up our enforced chitchat had been located halfway across the city from my home. It would have taken me hours to get back to the lair via the sewers, and even longer if I had taken the winding rooftop route. I’m sure this had been the real reason behind her choice, for it would have given me plenty of time to think about her proposal. And since I would’ve arrived a little before dawn, it would have had the added benefit of trapping us there for another day, where her goons could keep a watchful eye on us.

Problem was; I had no intention of dancing to her tune. I was going to get my family away tonight, come hell or high water, and taking a car she and her cronies had no knowledge of was my best chance to do that. The Battle Shell would have been my preferred choice, but it was too well-known by the Foot Clan, and would stick out like a sore thumb when we left the city and finally hit the highways. I didn’t trust her not to have planted a tracking device somewhere on the vehicle, too.

There was one other pressing motivation for me to commandeer the station wagon. Leo and April were still being guarded by those who had little reason to wish them well, and the only thing keeping them safe was the order of Karai; former patsy and now fledgling dictator. Knowing that, I wouldn’t have been able to run across the city on foot, with their faces flashing for hours behind my eyes, taunting me with the knowledge that I still had so much left to lose. I would have run myself into exhaustion, and driven myself batshit crazy.

Heh… Not like that was a long trip for me, anyways.

Even with the added speed the car gave me, I was still halfway to Crazytown by the time I hit the street a block from my home. I maintained enough presence of mind to turn the steering wheel and swing the car into a narrow alley so steeped in gloom it felt like I had been struck blind. Turning off the engine and yanking the Leatherman from its ignition column sheath, I pocketed the tool and was out of the car in a flash.

Sharp-edged emotions assaulted my mind and lent speed to my feet as I flitted from shadow to shadow, making my way down the rain-damp road with all the swiftness of a terrified ghost. The need for home and family was so pressing I could barely breathe around it, but I forced myself to use caution for the same reason I had stashed the car. I didn’t know what lay ahead for me, and it was entirely possible that a guard was stationed somewhere near the warehouse, lying in wait to warn those inside of my return. The only advantages I had were a stolen vehicle and the element of surprise, and I wasn’t going to give up either until I was good and ready.

It seemed like an eternity, but in truth only a few minutes had passed before my feet touched down on the gravel pathway in front of the warehouse. Unable to help myself, I ran the last few feet and kicked open the painted metal door with a flair that would’ve made Clint Eastwood proud, my weapons at the ready and murder on my mind. The metal door hit the wall with a sound like thunder as I ducked into the waiting gloom. Framed by the wane light outside, I spent a long moment with my senses stretched to the breaking point, seeking out the telltale signs of intrusion. The place felt empty and as deserted as a tomb, which was assurance enough for me to begin moving forward cautiously.

The Battle Shell was nothing more than a looming shadow at my back as I inched blindly to the elevator, using years of memory to guide my steps. My groping hand found the elevator button, and I tapped it with the pommel of my sai. I couldn’t help but wince as the car shuddered up the shaft in a chorus of grinding gears, effectively killing whatever small chance I had at catching those below off guard. There was no help for it, though, so I merely held my weapons in a white-knuckled grip and stood off to the side, waiting tensely for the doors to open.

When they did, I was nearly blinded by the light that spilled from the opening, and I had to suppress a hiss as my pupils contracted with painful swiftness. I blinked the pain away, and it took only a cursory glance to see that the car was unoccupied. I ventured into that emptiness, my stomach doing a little lurch as the elevator jerked shut and began its halting way down.

The interior was small and utterly without ornamentation, so when the doors opened I would be about as exposed as a flasher in Central Park. I couldn’t bring myself to get too concerned about it, though. The events of the past few hours had rasped across my psyche like a cheese grater, leaving me exhausted, twitchy and not a little pissed off. Pounding someone’s face in right now would be as soothing to my frayed nerves as a balm.

I threw back my hood and shifted into a fighting stance when the elevator ground to a halt. Keeping my center of gravity low, my muscles coiled and eager for violence, I felt my lips peel back into a snarl as the door let out a grumble of protest and began to slide open. I had one brief glimpse of the living room, its battered furniture nothing but indistinct shadows in the dimness, before instinct sang along my nerve endings and took possession of my body.

I threw myself forward, crouching almost to the ground as a bright shard of metal whirred furiously overhead and buried itself into the wall behind me. I sprang to my feet like a scalded cat, pressing myself against the side of the elevator car and using the pitiful edge of the doorframe as cover. Smiling in grim pleasure at what was about to come, I shifted my weight to the balls of my feet and prepared to dive into the fray…

Only to pause when my gaze flicked over to the shuriken, half-buried in the thin metal and still vibrating slightly from the impact. The weapon was shaped in a distinctive three-pronged style, a twin to the pair that had been displayed in the dojo for the better part of a decade. And it had been thrown high, well above head height for the average human. A warning shot, I belatedly realized. Not something that the Foot clan usually indulged in.

The sudden laugh that rumbled in my chest felt like release, and the sound of it was still reverberating in the narrow confines of the elevator car when I belted my weapons and stepped fully into view. I lifted my hands in mock surrender as a voice called out from the gloom ahead, sounding high, frightened and blessedly familiar.

“Move and you’re… Raph?”

A shadowy form rose awkwardly from its hiding place behind the couch, revealing a disheveled mop of red hair and a pair of wide green eyes. “Hell of an identity crisis if I ain’t,” I said wryly.

The second shuriken dropped from April’s right hand, hitting the floor with a metallic clatter as I stepped out of the elevator and began walking towards her. She blinked once, her mouth gone slack with shock, before emitting a high-pitched, joyous squeal that was solely a woman’s sound. Seeming to forget about her body’s limitations, she planted her good foot on the sofa cushions and attempted to scramble over the back of the couch. She might have actually succeeded, but her leg brace caught on a rip in the fabric and threw her off balance.

She tumbled off the back, destined for a rather magnificent face plant, but was brought up short when I surged forward and caught her around the waist. My wounded arm twinged in silent rebuke as I helped her regain her footing, but I had little time to notice, for I was suddenly far too busy trying to breathe as April threw her arms around my neck and hugged me hard.

Dignity is a difficult thing to maintain with a hundred and ten pounds of sobbing, laughing woman hanging from your shoulders like a necklace, but I found that I didn’t mind too much. I gave up trying to make sense of the rapid string of words she was babbling in my ear and simply hugged her back, allowing myself to enjoy the warmth of her. She looked terrible, and her clothes were rank with the smell of stale fear-sweat, but she was alive and seemed relatively unharmed. Considering what we had just survived, that was nothing short of a miracle.

The timbre of her voice changed, and I focused back in just in time to hear her say, “-wouldn’t speak to me at all. One of them got a phone call about two hours ago, and they left without a word of explanation. I… I didn’t know where you were, or how to find you.” She loosened her death grip on my neck and looked at me, her eyes just inches from my own. “What’s going on, Raph? What did Karai want with you?”

“I’ll tell you later,” I said, pulling away from her. “Right now, I want you to go to the kitchen and sit down. I’ll follow in a second.”

April hesitated, obviously reluctant to leave my side, but after a moment she nodded. She turned on her heel and walked away, the sound of her clanking brace ricocheting off the walls in tinny echoes, and disappeared into the dark heart of kitchen. Rounding the couch as the sounds died away, I crouched down at Leo’s side.

The sight of him sent shock down my spine in an unpleasant ripple. Considering his mental state, it seemed logical that April and I would have received the lion’s stare of anxiety and fear tonight. Just goes to prove that logic doesn’t mean much when it comes to people, because Leo looked like hell.

He was still in the same spot I had left him in --seated in the Lotus position on the floor with his shell pressed against the arm of the couch--, but that is where the resemblance to my brother from a few hours ago ended. The twitching of his hands had once been a gentle thing, barely noticeable unless you looked for it, but now they trembled, hard enough that I could the edges of his arms blurring to the elbows. His eyes were still an empty void, but the skin around them had darkened to the sickly color of bruised pine needles. His temples were streaked with lines of dark sweat, and his breath was hitching in a way that worried me. If I were to clap my hands in front of his face right now, he’d probably go into shock.

I felt the beginnings of a growl rumble in my chest as I watched him fight a desperate, internal battle, but I tamped it down for his sake. The need to escape before daylight trapped us was still a pressing worry, but thanks to Karai and her lackeys’ lack of bedside manner, that would have to wait.

I reached out and touched his hand, feeling awkward and painfully aware of futility of it all. “Hey, Leo, it’s me. You can relax now; the Foot are gone. We’re safe, for the moment, at least.”

Leo’s fingers spasmed under my palm, but it was the only indication that he had heard my voice. His trembling seemed to have actually gotten worse, and I was beginning to worry that we had a real problem on our hands. If I wasn’t able to get him calmed down and manageable soon, it would be too late to leave the city before day break. The thought of being trapped here in the violated sanctity of our home, pinned like moths on a corkboard to be scrutinized at Karai’s leisure, brought with it the pale echo of an emotion not dissimilar to Leo’s own fear. I knew I had to do something quick to snap him out of it, but the real kick in the crotch was that I didn’t have a clue what. Even before the explosion, I sucked when it came to doling out comfort; nowadays, I was pretty much useless. I could barely keep my own self emotionally afloat, much less anyone else.

Ah, hell, might as well be honest with myself, at least. Between the flashbacks, blackouts, and my uncanny ability to turn myself into a living shish-kabob, I was a freaking train wreck. I was no longer playing with a full deck, the wheel was still turning, but the hamster was dead… whatever damn cliché you wanted to use.

My depressive thoughts faltered as I felt the first glimmerings of an idea. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and lacking a less embarrassing option, I had no choice but to try a different approach.

Carefully, so as not to startle him, I reached out with my good hand and hooked the back of his neck. I drew him forward and gently touched my forehead against his. It was a gesture my brothers and I had often used as children, before the tapestry of our lives became too woven with threads of pride and petty jealousies for such things.

“I know you’ve got to work this shit out on your own, bro,” I said quietly. “I’ve been stuck with you long enough to get that.”

My lip curled into a ghost of a smile, which faded quickly as I forced an intensity into my tone that stopped just short of a command. “But now I need you to focus long enough to hear me. The Foot clan followed April and found out where we lived. You and April were held here while I was taken to have a little chat with Karai. We talked about a lot of shit-- yelled, actually-- but the gist of it is this: she claims not to have had anything to do with the bomb, but she knows who did. She has a plan to stop him, but she needs my help.”

I pulled back my head and looked at him, my hand still gripping the back of his neck. “I didn’t know what to make of her story, and I told her as much. She just let me go, and told me I had two days to make my decision. I still don’t trust her, but… hell, she might be on the level this time.”

I let my head drop from his neck and ran my fingers over the sleeve that covered my blood-spotted bandage. The move must have sparked something within him, for his eyes lost their thousand-yard stare. He blinked rapidly, and his expression tightened into one of puzzlement, as if nagged by an elusive memory. That clouded look was soon swept away, however, when his eyes snapped up to my face. His trembling stopped suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch, and his spine unbent into his familiar ramrod straight posture. Swallowing hard, he croaked, “Ototo…”

If I hadn’t been so tired, I might have jumped up and danced a jig. Fortunately for me and my shredded dignity, I had to settle for a shit-eating grin as I touched his hand again, feeling his fingers grip my own like a lifeline. He had responded to me, and I didn’t even have to stab myself this time. If that wasn’t progress, I didn’t know what was.

“Got it in one, Leo. The brother thing is in the bag. So how about my name?” I asked encouragingly. “Do you remember it?”

He couldn’t have looked more clueless if I had spoken in tongues, but I didn’t let it concern me. I could still see the insanity writhing like a parasite beneath his skin, but for now his eyes tracked mine and he found solace in the sound of my voice. It was enough.

“Nevermind, bro. We’ll work on that later. Right now, I need you to pay close attention to what I’m saying. We’re okay, and we’re all together again.” I paused, and then shook my head. “Problem is, I don’t know how long that’s going to last. Our home is no longer secret, and it is no longer safe. We have to leave.”

His hand jerked convulsively from mine, and he flinched as if he had been slapped. His mouth worked, but he didn’t seem capable of forming the right words. A low, animalistic whine bubbled up in his throat, and he shook his head repeatedly in a fit of frustration and denial.

Fearing that I was losing him, I gripped him by the shoulders and shook him once, hard. Teeth clicking together as his head snapped back, the whine stopped as abruptly as it begun. Leo blinked rapidly and met my eyes again, his expression equal parts distress and reproof.

I released my grip on him and sighed. Leave it to Leo. Even when he was a few bricks shy of a load, he could still make me feel like an asshole.

“Sorry,” I growled. “But all the reproachful looks in the world aren’t going to change the fact that I’m right. Karai may be on the up and up, but I wouldn’t trust her lackeys with my spit. I need room to breathe and time to think, but I can’t do that here, not when I’ll be constantly looking over my shoulder. We’re way too exposed here, and I refuse to drive myself crazy worrying about the two of you.”

I ran my hand over the top of my head and tugged at the knot on my bandanna, wincing a little when the stitches pulled. “This place ain’t exactly the Ritz, but it’s our home. One way or another, we’ll take it back. I promise you that, Leo. I swear it. But for now, I need you to be calm and go with me on this. Trust me, okay?”

There was a long pause, and I was beginning to worry that he had checked out for the night, but eventually he shifted and let out a long, wavering sigh. The undamaged side of his mouth twitched, and then curved into a lopsided smile that made my heart spasm in my chest.

“Always,” he said hoarsely.

I don’t know what I might have said in response to that, but Leo ended up solving the problem for me. As I swallowed hard and tried to remember how to breathe, his shoulders slumped and relaxed, taking on that rounded look that had grown familiar in the past month. Within the span of a few heartbeats, he had slipped back into his own private world with hardly a ripple.

I snapped my fingers in front of his face, hoping against hope for a reaction, but the vacant look in his eyes never changed. The lights were on, but no one was home. Again.

I wanted to kick his ass for leaving me again, and I wanted to cry for the exact same reason. I did neither, but instead rocked back on my heels and stood with the muffled sound of popping joints. Turning my back on him, I headed for the kitchen, rubbing a hand across my neck in an effort to loosen the knot in my throat.

I was so distracted by this that I didn’t notice the figure hovering at the entrance until I almost passed her. I paused and sighed, more weary than irritated, and said, “Are all women this nosey, or is it just you?”

April ducked her head in embarrassment, but made no move to abandon her leaning position against the kitchen archway. Her expression was an odd mix of emotions, guilt and humor pureed in a blender, and it showed in her voice when she replied, “I think you guys just got lucky.”

The only clever response I could come up with involved the liberal use of curse words, so I just bit my tongue and brushed passed her. I opened the pantry and shoveled aside a jumbled pile of canned goods, packages of old pasta and an ancient loaf of bread with my good arm. After a moment, I found what I was looking for: Don’s old duffel bag, which he had long ago emptied and left among the cans for just such an occasion.

Yanking it from the pile and sending a can of stringed beans rolling passed my foot, I unzipped the bag and set it down by the pantry door. It was the work of a moment to drag one of the dining room chairs beside the bag, and then I crooked a finger at April and gestured to the seat. “I don’t know how long we’ll be gone, so I want to pack as much food as you can into the bag. Be quick about it, but for God’s sake, don’t try to lift it when you’re done. Just leave it there and come get me.”

April approached the chair cautiously, as if it were some strange and possibly dangerous animal. She ran her hand over the chair back, grimacing a little when the dim light caught the sick sheen of blood and worse dried into the glove. After a moment, she gave me a sideways look and said, “Do we really have to leave?”

Her voice was tinged with an edge of sadness, and I sighed for the second time in as many minutes. Why was this so hard to understand? “Look, April, I like this even less than you do, but it’s not like we have much of a choice. You were listening in on my conversation, so you know why we have to leave.”

I regretted my choice of words almost as soon as I said them, for April flinched, remorse flooding her features and drowning out all other expression. She gripped the chair back with both hands and stared at her clenched fingers as if they held the secrets of the universe, her eyes downcast and suspiciously bright. “This is all my fault. I don’t know if you can ever forgive-”

“Forget about it, April. I forgave you almost as soon as you told me.”

“But…” Her eyes flicked around the shadow-shrouded kitchen before coming to rest on the table, battered and scarred by nearly two decades of memories. “Oh, Raph, I’ve cost you your home.”

It was a true testament to my restraint that I managed not to roll my eyes. I was supposed to be the hotheaded, unreliable one, so why did everyone suddenly expect me to be Doctor Phil?

Scooping up the errant can of beans, I placed it in the bag. This brought me directly in her line of sight, preventing her from easily shrinking away. I then crossed my arms and gave her a speculative look. “Did you do it on purpose?”

Shock made her head snap up with an almost audible sound. “Of course not!” she said indignantly.

I nodded, secretly relieved that I had gotten her dander up before those damnable tears had a chance to fall. The woman could really turn on the waterworks when she wanted to, and it had always killed a little something inside of me to see her cry.

“Okay. So if you hadn’t stopped by, then what do you think would have happened?” She seemed to have no ready answer, so I provided her with one. “When I woke up for the first time after the accident, I was weak and shaky as hell. Christ, it took nearly two hours before I could stand without hugging the wall. As weak as I was, I wouldn’t have been able to stitch myself up on my own. I would’ve had to call you anyway.” I leaned forward and gripped the chair, my hands on either side of hers. “And since Karai was getting desperate to contact me, I figure she stationed someone to watch your place and then shadow you when you left.

“Do you get it now? Coming here on your own just accelerated the process by a few hours. They would have found us anyway, and if you hadn’t been there to patch me up, I would be in a lot worse shape than I am now. So just let it go,” I said, in a tone of voice that brooked no argument, “and stop sniveling long enough to help me pack.”

Biting her lip, she slowly released her death grip on the chair. She searched my face and seemed reassured by what she saw there, for she smiled a little and gently touched my cheek. “When did you get to be so smart?”

“I’ve watched a lot of Jeopardy these past few months,” I said dryly.

April let out a laugh, and I stepped aside as she rounded the chair and sat down. Rolling back the sleeves on her borrowed sweatshirt, she bent over laboriously and began shifting cans into the duffel bag. “Just promise to fill me in on the details when we’re on the road.”

“Will do,” I said distantly, my hand resting on the worn arch of the kitchen walkway. My home for the better part of ten years, and the only link I still had to them…

I snatched my hand away, as if the cold stone could burn. “Be fast, April,” I said gruffly, turning my back on the kitchen and the memories it contained. “We leave in ten minutes.”