AN: I’m so, so sorry for the long delay, everyone. I could point out several reasons as to why it took me so long to post this, but while they would all be true, the fact of the matter is that there’s no excuse for not updating this story for seven months. (Hangs head) Ashamed, Dierdre is.

All I can do now is hope for your forgiveness... and to make you all a pledge. Come hell or high water, I promise that I will have another chapter of this story posted before Christmas break. Scout’s honor, gentle readers. (Salutes)

And that’s enough of that, methinks. I hope you enjoy chapter nineteen of ‘Fade,’ and as always, please feel free to point out any grammar errors or fiddly bits I might have missed. I need all the help I can get. :)

AN2: A resounding ‘Thank you!’ goes out to The Peanut Gallery, Jessiy Landroz and Reinbeauchaser, for their sharp eyes and invaluable help with this chapter. Y’all are awesome!

When I’d laid out that time limit to April, it had seemed like plenty. Ten minutes for April to gather provisions, ten minutes to get Leo ready for topside travel… and ten minutes to pack the sum total of five lives into one black gym bag.

The sheer impossibility of that last task was what had me frozen now, standing in my room with the bag dangling accusingly from my right fist, its toothless maw wide open and hungry. A number of my family’s possessions had found their way here over the past few months, and I raked my eyes over them now, feeling the passing of seconds in the back of my skull like an itch. Mikey’s tattered bear rested atop a leaning stack of Don’s medical textbooks; one of Casey’s spare hockey masks hung above the door; and Master Splinter’s cane leaned against the empty dresser, its polished handle gleaming like a coin in the overhead light.

I reached out automatically for the cane, but stopped when my hand suddenly fisted, my fingers curling of their own accord to nestle tightly against my palm. My father’s cane, my friend’s mask, my brothers’ books and cherished toys… they were of no use to anyone but me, nothing more than souvenirs of a thousand memories that were already branded indelibly into my mind. To take one, I would have to take another, and another, and soon I would have half the lair on my back and no time left at all.

Letting out a curse that hissed through my teeth like a sigh, I turned sharply and left my room, closing the door behind me. My chest hitched and rattled once, as if something in my ribcage had broken loose, but I tamped down my emotions between one breath and the next. I made my way to Leo’s room, feeling my resolve strengthen with each step down that foul-smelling corridor, droplets of dried blood grinding to powder beneath my boots. There would be time later for hurt and regret.

Later, but not now.

Pushing open Leo’s door, I threw the gym bag onto the bed and began to rifle through his trunk. I shoved aside a neatly stacked pile of papers and threw a journal carelessly over my shoulder, and I nearly did the same with a small music box before hesitating and setting it gently on the bed. Possessions meant nothing to the dead, but Leo still lived, and when he came back to himself I didn’t want him kicking my ass for trashing his stuff.

Towards the bottom of the trunk, I found what I was looking for. Leo’s daylight gear, which was used so rarely that he had stored it away in plastic to protect the cloth. Shoving the awkward, crinkling bundle under one arm, I replaced everything else and let the lid fall shut with a hollow thud. It was only the work of a moment to grab a worn book from the nightstand --its thin pages separated by a candy wrapper I’d used as a marker-- and shove it into one of my sweater pockets. Abandoning the gym bag, I made ready to leave-

Only to pause at the wall adjacent to the bed, where Leo had positioned his weapons in such a way that could only be called artistic. And there in the center, surrounded by a lethal fan of steel and chain and leather, hung my brother’s swords. They gleamed even beneath a fine patina of dust, their lingering shine a mute testimony to the care and love they’d once received.

My brother’s soul wrapped up in two elegant lengths of steel and corded leather; their brightness dulled, but not gone. Even I could tell that there was something terribly symbolic about that.

Time still ticked and tumbled behind my eyes, but I had little choice in the matter. There were some things no one should be without.

I trekked back to the den room a moment later and crouched in front of Leo, the swords rattling lightly in their sheaths as I lowered the over-arm harness to the ground. Clothing and a single pair of boots landed in a tangled jumble at my feet as I shook out the plastic covering. I grabbed a brown sweater from the pile and held it up, wrinkling my nose against the faint, chemical smell of mothballs.

Mentally squaring my shoulders against the ordeal to come, I gripped Leo wrist and pulled his arm towards me. I searched for recognition in his blank eyes, but quickly gave up and attempted to contort my expression into something resembling a smile.

“Come on, bro,” I said quietly, “let’s get you ready.”

As I tried to force his limp foot into one of the scuffed leather boots, I came to the conclusion that if I never had to dress my brother again, it would be too soon. It was a little like dressing a mannequin, if a mannequin wore my brother’s face and had a pulse that beat against my skin like the flutter of a sparrow’s wing. If a mannequin could bear the scars of a once fierce and active life, and whose very inaction now could have the power to cause me pain.

I was able to shove, wriggle and generally force him into most of the clothing, but the spasmodic twitching of his hands finally announced the death knell of my patience. Abandoning my attempts to force his fingers into the custom-made leather gloves, I shoved them into his jacket pockets instead and sat back with a sigh. The urge to drive my fist through something just to hear it break was strong, but I settled for threading my fingers together and flexing until the knuckles cracked like distant gunshots. The sound took the edge off my ire, and after a moment I reached out again, gripping my brother by the elbows and lifting him up with the combination of steady pressure and quiet words. Once he was on his feet, I zipped up his jacket and tucked his hands into his pockets, before drawing the hood down low over his brow. The shadows dropped over his face like a shroud, leaving nothing but the emerald green curve of a broad cheekbone, and I adjusted the hood until even that fell away.

I was so busy wondering just how the hell we were going to travel across country with a catatonic mutant in the back seat, that I didn’t notice her uneven footsteps until she was only a few strides away.

Turning around, I found April staring at me with an expression that was curiously pinched and reluctant, and it was only when she held out her hand that I understood the reason. “I figured you’d need these.”

I grinned a little at her gruff tone and took the cigarette carton out of her hands. “Thanks, April,” I said, with enough sincerity to smooth away the wrinkles of disapproval around her eyes. “Did you get the food packed?”

She reached out and straightened the hem of Leo’s long jacket in a gentle, absent gesture, before nodding once. “I just about emptied the pantry. There’s enough there to feed us for a couple of weeks, if we’re cautious.”

“Good,” I said. Gathering up Leo’s swords, I wordlessly held them out to her. Surprise was evident on her face, but she took them without hesitation and slung them over her good shoulder by the over-arm harness. While she was still adjusting to the awkward burden, I slipped into the kitchen, tucked the carton and the book inside the duffel bag, and then lifted the whole thing by the nylon strap. This turned out to be more difficult than I had anticipated, and the unexpected weight made flecks of white dart across my vision as I heaved the clanking burden onto my shoulder. April never did anything by halves, which apparently included packing.

Huffing a little until the strain eased, I tilted my stance to act as a counterbalance, allowing a good portion of the weight to rest on my hip. I wasted one last moment looking about the kitchen, my eyes flitting across the scarred table top, before reaching out with my free hand and flicking off the light. I forced myself to feel nothing as I turned on my heel and left the shadows behind.

April was standing by the elevator when I got back, wriggling Leo’s right hand into the last glove. Despite the shaking of his hands, she maneuvered the cloth over his fingers with a lot more skill than I’d previously displayed.

“We’re not taking the Battle-Shell, are we?”

It wasn’t really a question, but I answered anyway. “Nah. I got us something better.”

She nodded slowly, the movement making light play across her tangled curls in bands of gold and copper. “Drug dealer?”

“Long term storage,” I said with a glare, challenging her to comment.

She didn’t take the bait, but merely nodded and finally looked up at me. “We’re both ready,” she said, taking Leo’s gloved hand in her own. Unbidden, his fingers curled, nearly engulfing her hand in a loose-knuckled grip. As we both stared at him with brittle hope, he made a strange shuddering sound in the back of his throat and began rocking from one foot to the other. A repetitive, mindless motion, like that of a restless child.

I didn’t have the slightest clue what was going on with him now, much less if I should take it as a positive or negative sign. The feeling wasn’t exactly new to me, but judging from April’s expression, she was just as baffled as I was.

Oh, well. If I was going to be kept in the dark, at least this time I had company.

We boarded the elevator without a word, April leading Leo by the hand. When the doors ground shut and the car began its limping ascent, April reached out and touched my shoulder.

“You okay?” she asked, her brow furrowing in concern.

I shot her a glance out of the corner of my eye, watching her bounce slightly in involuntary cadence with the jerking of the elevator. She anticipated my question before I could voice it and looked pointedly at my left hand. It was only then that I realized I was gripping the strap of the duffel so tightly that my knuckles had taken on the shade of bleached pine needles.

I released my death grip on the nylon so fast April flinched back in surprise. “I’m fine,” I said shortly, mentally cursing myself for not keeping a better rein on my emotions. The only things that mattered in my life were standing beside me now, and I refused to melt into a puddle of angst just because I was leaving a few worthless baubles and trinkets behind.

April might have prodded me more, but her questions were forestalled by the opening of the elevator door. I stepped out and let the bag slip off my shoulder. It hit the ground with a heavy thud half in and half out of the lift, forcing the door to remain open. Light spilled outward like the bursting of a dam, flooding the warehouse with a pale glow. The Battle Shell squatted like a toad near one wall, the sickly light turning its tan paintjob the color of rotting cream. I prowled around it for a moment before turning my attention to the rest of the building, making certain that none of Karai’s flunkies were trying to be cute by playing a demented game of hide and seek.

Once I was satisfied that we were alone, I beckoned to April with a quick wave of my hand. She exited the elevator on cue, blinking in the dimness as Leo rocked from heel to heel beside her, as if he’d been stricken with a sudden case of autism. Considering the way my luck had been running recently, I wouldn’t have been all that surprised if he had.

“I’ll bring the car around,” I said, my eyes on April as I attempted to ignore the disturbing, hypnotic sway of my brother’s body. “If anything happens while I’m gone, ride the elevator back down and hit the emergency lockdown button. It should buy you two enough time for me to get back.”

She nodded obediently, but if her dubious look was any indication, she thought I was being paranoid. Hell, she was probably right, but I wasn’t about to take back my words. When you lived the life I did, paranoia wasn’t just a state of mind. It was a survival mechanism.

The rain had caught up with me when I left the warehouse and ventured out into the night. My clothes, which had finally almost dried, were soaked through again in seconds, and I spat out a useless curse at the sky. Hugging the available walls, I darted from shadow to shadow, the water cooling my skin so quickly that my breath escaped my lips in snake tail tendrils of steam.

I was cold, achy, pissed off and wet all the way down to my bones… and I still had a five hour drive to look forward to. God, my life sucked.

The rain was more subdued that it had been an hour ago, but the steady patter of drops against my hood still managed to disguise the sound of their voices until the last moment. Barely a yard from the alleyway where I’d stashed the car, I stopped so quickly that my foot slipped on the rain-slick pavement with an audible skittering splash of parting water. I hurriedly righted myself and pressed my shell against the building’s graffiti-smeared brickwork, hardly daring to breathe.

The dice had apparently rolled in my favor for once, though. My stumble went unheard, and the timbre of their voices never faltered.

Sidling like a crab, I inched my way over to the mouth of the alley and carefully peered inside. Instead of the enveloping blankness I’d encountered before, this time the narrow passageway was dimly illuminated by the station wagon’s interior light. The driver’s side door was wide open and a figure was hunched behind the wheel, barely visible over the dashboard as his unseen hands fiddled with the ignition column. Another man was standing near the front bumper, theoretically acting as a lookout. He must not have been very good at his job, though, for he was turned away from me. His whip-thin profile was lit up by the car light, tipping his wet, spiky hair with pinpricks of liquid gold.

“How’s it look?” the skinny one asked.

“Some fool already jacked this heap,” the other replied in a muffled voice, the car creaking slightly as he shifted. “Hardly nothing left for me to do. Gimme another thirty seconds and we’re outta here.”

The skinny guy turned his back completely to me and made an approving noise, which was exactly the opposite of my opinion on the matter. I didn’t have the time or the energy to steal another car tonight, and I was pretty certain that Splinter would come back from the dead to smack me one if I tried.

With the lookout still shirking his duties, it was easy for me to slip into the alley and pad silently over to him. The smell of his cheap cologne assaulted my nasal passages as I listened to him outline a plan for a ‘beer and bitches’ run, oblivious to my presence as he chatted happily. It was almost a shame to interrupt him, but it would’ve been rude of me if I didn’t say ‘hi.’

His short beard was a harsh prickle against the pads of my fingers as I clamped my right hand over his mouth and drove a pile-driver fist into his left kidney. He exhaled explosively from his nostrils, his legs buckling like he’d been kicked in the back of the knees. I rammed my elbow against the apex of his neck as he crumpled, sending him to dreamland without even a token show of protest.

Too damn easy, really.

I lowered his limp form to the ground and crouched over him, my shoulder pressed against the lip of the wheel well. The man in the driver’s seat straightened as the silence began to stretch out like a blade, and I could barely see a broad, dark face squinting through the windshield.

“Vince?” he called worriedly.

His brow furrowed when there was no reply, and he stepped slowly out of the car, his right hand easing towards the small of his back. I had a good idea of what he was reaching for, so I wasted no time springing forward and impacting the door with my shoulder. The door slammed into his chest like the world’s largest mousetrap, snapping him backwards and painfully twisting his arm, his body weight crushing it between his spine and the doorframe. He let out a strangled yell and collapsed to the side, cursing fitfully as something metallic skittered across the concrete and slid under the car. He tried to stand, and I shut the door with a sharp snap, barely missing his grasping fingers. The man fell away, flat on the ground again and struggling, and I attempted to end the fight right there by lunging over his buddy’s unconscious form and burying my knee in his crotch.

He squeaked like a rusty hinge --a high, girlish sound--, but proved his toughness an instant later when he lashed out with a fist and caught me in the throat. I gagged and stumbled back, momentarily vulnerable as my body attempted to hack up chunks of my esophagus. He used the moment to lurch to his feet, bow-legged and huffing like an asthmatic cowboy, before letting out a snarl of rage and lunging at me.

I collapsed to the concrete with a pissed off human all but sitting on my chest, blunt-nailed fingers scrabbling with my hood as he attempted to wrap his hands around my neck. Still nearly night-blind, he didn’t react when the hood slipped off my head, but there was apparently nothing wrong with his sense of touch, for he paused as his clawing fingers raked over my plastron. The moment of profound confusion lasted for less than a second, but it was enough for me to shove aside the splintering burn in my throat and regain the upper hand.

My knuckles split against his septum as I tagged him with a left hook, smearing his nose across one broad cheekbone. He tumbled off of me like he’d just been pole-axed, his nose now the approximate shape and texture of silly putty. He hit the pavement like a sack of cement, twitched once, and then laid still. Silence descended on the alleyway once more, broken only by his wet, bubbling breaths and the monotonous pitter-patter of the rain.

Blinking water from my eyes, I stood with painful slowness, leaning against the hood of the station wagon and prodding gingerly at my throat. Despite the shards of glass that I inhaled with every breath, my wind pipe seemed to be intact, which was another bit of good fortune I hadn’t really expected.

I should go buy a lottery ticket. I was just having all kinds of luck tonight.

I hacked once and spit out a mouthful of copper-tasting saliva, before holding out my hands and letting the weeping sky wash away the blood that streaked my knuckles. My mouth curved of its own accord into a slow, savage grin.

Sweet shivering fuck, that had felt good. Forget counseling or drug therapy; one minute of pounding on those bad guys had done more for my nerves than a whole bottle of Ritalin.

Feeling generous, I dragged Vince out of the rain and leaned him against one of the filthy walls. I stretched the other guy out beside him, taking an extra moment to turn him on his side so he wouldn’t drown in the blood that I could hear draining down the back of his throat. Never let it be said that I wasn’t a nice guy.

The vents belched out heat as I slid into the driver’s seat and used my Leatherman to start the car, its engine turning over easily and purring out a greeting. I was pulling up in front of the warehouse only a few moments later, the gravel pathway crunching underneath my tires. The whitewashed metal door opened a crack, and then swung wide and disgorged April, who shaded her eyes and squinted against the light. I climbed out of the car, leaving it running as I stepped in front of the headlights, partially blocking the glare. She smiled at the sight of me and then ducked back into the gloom, returning a moment later with Leo in tow.

“Get him situated,” I said without preamble. “I’ll get the food.”

My throat was still sore, and she raised an eyebrow at the unusual grate to my voice, but quickly shrugged it off. “I found a couple of gas cans near the Battle Shell. They’re still pretty full, so we shouldn’t have to stop at a station to refuel.”

I’d been a bit worried about that, so I nodded gratefully and disappeared into the warehouse, leaving her to get Leo buckled up. It didn’t take me long to find the cans she’d mentioned, tucked between the converted armored car and the wall. I set them down long enough to sling the heavy duffel bag over my shoulder, before taking a gas can in each hand and tottering out the door, closing it behind me with a clumsy mule-kick.

I rounded the car and found that April had already opened the rear door, leaving Leo's swords resting against the right wheel well of the cargo hold. With a heave and a grunt of effort, I tossed everything into the remaining space, the duffel hitting the carpeted floor panels with enough force to rock the vehicle. I heard one of the passenger doors close, followed by the uneven sound of footsteps, and I was in the process of shoving a gas can into a more stable position when I felt the car shift again. I looked up, growled lowly at what I saw, and then slammed the rear door shut.

Marching over to the driver’s side, I rapped sharply on the window. April rolled it down dutifully, giving me a look of such pure innocence that I knew she must’ve gotten pointers from Mikey. “What?”

“Just what to do you think you’re doing?”

“Sitting,” she said with a smile, raindrops glittering in her hair.

“Don’t be a smartass,” I said, pointedly ignoring the irony of that statement. “You can’t drive.”

The smile disappeared, as if it had never been. “I can,” she said levelly. “My right leg is just fine, so I can work the pedals. And cell phone users the world over have proven that it’s possible to drive with only one hand.”

“Let me rephrase, then. I won’t let you drive.” Rainwater dripped down my neck in a steady stream, making me fight not to shiver as I yanked open the door. She stared at me solemnly, her braced leg stretched out awkwardly beside the steering column. When she made no move to leave, I snapped, “Get out, April! We don’t have time for this.”

“Exactly,” she said with equal heat, her hands tightening on the wheel. “It’s going to be daylight in another couple of hours, and the morning rush will start even sooner than that. Do you really think you can drive through heavy traffic and not be seen?”

“I’d rather take my chances with that than risk you seizing up and driving us into a stoplight.”

“Which is about as likely as you having a flashback and coasting the car into incoming traffic,” she shot back. Something in my face must have told her that she hit a little too close to home, for her eyes softened and she said more calmly, “It won’t be for the whole trip, Raph. Just until we get out of the city and the roads clear a little. I promise that I won’t endanger us. Not again.”

It didn’t take much perception to figure out the meaning of that last sentence. The stubborn, impossible woman felt that she had something to prove, and I was simply too tired to argue with her any more.

“Fine,” I sighed, “but as soon as we hit the open road, we’re pulling over and switching places. This isn’t open for debate.” I leaned forward and gave her a narrow-eyed glance, the effect somewhat ruined by the water that was dripping off my chin. “Do you understand me, or do I have to use smaller words?”

She grinned at me then, a bright, half moon curve on that pixie face, and I felt my anger curl in on itself and die. “Thanks, Raph.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled, turning away and getting into the back seat. I wrung out my sweater as best I could, water dripping to the floor beneath my booted feet, while April adjusted the mirrors and angled the vents so that warm air began to ripple over my face.

Leo, who was buckled up in the middle of the seat, had begun to rock again, his body swaying forward and back with metronomic regularity. As April slowly pulled away from the warehouse and began driving down the road, the windshield wipers working furiously, I buckled my seat belt and draped a soggy arm over Leo’s shoulders. I cupped the back of his neck and pushed his head slightly forward, making the shadows of his hood drop down over his face. My grip was as gentle as I could make it, and he didn’t squirm under my touch, but I could still feel the muscles in his neck bunch and relax as he rocked back and forth without pause.

Something in my chest twisted oddly, and I grimaced, pulling my own hood low over my brow. I stared straight ahead as the city lights slid over the car windows in long streaks of multicolored radiance… and eventually fell asleep to the tune of the rain-washed city and the feel of my brother’s warmth.