The training room seems small now; too small.
He just has to concentrate, focus, breathe.
Yeah.
Right.
"You just have to stay calm." April's voice is hard, her face set. They've been doing this too long. From the look on April's face, she thinks they shouldn't have started in the first place, but nobody else was home. And Raph needs to train. When he doesn't, it burns, makes things worse. Not that things are great as it stands. Raph's regretting asking her now.
"I know," he says, hearing the anger in his own voice.
He takes a deep breath, tries to center himself.
He's no good at this shit. He never has been.
It didn't matter until now.
The training room seems smaller than it's ever been, and he can barely get up the energy to run from one end to the other...
The anger's getting to him. It always does.
"Look, if you just keep your pulse down--"
"I can't, April, that's the friggin' problem..."
"Just try it, huh? Just breathe for a minute at least."
He tries. He breathes.
"It isn't working."
"You have to try to get it to work."
He curses under his breath.
"Raph," she says, and he can feel the fatigue in her voice, "if you want to feel sorry for yourself, fine. I'm gonna... I'll be upstairs."
He watches her as she goes.
He notices the paint at the top of the door is chipping.
He'll have to repaint it.
Maybe tomorrow.
Maybe a blue. April would like blue.
He thinks.
Maybe not blue.
Maybe he should ask Shadow about the color.
When April gets out of the shower he's sitting on the living room couch. "Raph?"
"Yeah--"
"What--"
"You said you'd be upstairs."
"Yeah, I did. I just--"
"I'm sorry, April. I... I keep screwing up. I just... shit." He leans his forehead into his hand. "It just... it just gets black... and I just don't care then, ya know? About you, about me, about... anything. It's just... it's black."
She sits down on the chair. "I know, Raph. But... it's hard. It's hard to deal with you when you get like that."
"I know. I know. I'm sorry, April..."
"I know, Raph." She watches him. "What are you guys doing for dinner? It's Leo's blind date tonight, right?"
"Yeah. We're goin' to Mike's. Thanks, though."
April crosses her legs, thinks for a second before she talks. "He seems... better lately, huh?"
"Yeah. He's a lot better. And Maureen's a lot more relaxed, too..."
"Well, of course--"
Raph nods. "Yeah--"
"You know, women have needs--"
"Well... what?" His face is open with shock.
"I thought--" She looks abashed. "I mean, you knew..."
"Well, yeah-- I... well. Yeah."
Silence.
She gets up, turns back toward the bathroom. "I gotta get another towel for my hair..."
"Uh... I'll see you later, April."
"Yeah. Thanks, Raph."
"I can be an asshole, April. I'm sorry."
She looks back at him over her shoulder. "I know." She smiles. "It's okay."
He grins a little as he leaves.
"So they broke up," Angela says. "Are you hearing me?" She waves her hand in front of Carlos' face.
He grabs it. "Fuck off."
"This is your chance, hombre."
"She ain't interested, chacha."
"How do you know?"
"'Cause she's not. She never has been. She dates creeps, remember?"
"She just dumped a creepy guy, remember? Maybe she wants a nice one this time." She frowns in thought for a second. "And I mean, you're not that nice."
"Fuck off."
"Whatcha gonna do? Just drool forever?"
" I don't drool!"
Angela rolls her eyes.
"What are you doin' giving me advice anyway?"
"I may not have a boyfriend but I know Raven. I'm telling you, this is your chance."
"I don't have a chance--"
"Guys?" Mike is standing in the doorway to Angela's bedroom, his face carefully neutral. "You wanna eat?"
"Uh... yeah," Angela says, scrambling up from the floor. Mike lets her pass, gives Carlos a hand up.
"You know," he says gently, putting his hand on Carlos' back, "sometimes girls get sick of creepy guys."
"You shouldn't spy on us," Carlos grumbles.
"I wasn't spying," Mike says indignantly. "I was standing right there."
"You know what I mean."
"A good ninja--"
"--is aware of his surroundings, I know, I know. We weren't."
"You said it, not me."
"You really think--"
"Life's about risks, kid. Sometimes the biggest risk of all is the one you don't take."
"But not always, man."
"No." Mike grins. "That's the tough part. C'mon, let's eat."
"Hey."
"What?"
"How do you think Leo's date's goin'?"
The mċitre'd tells him where the table is. It's a nice restaurant; rich decor, Italian, expensive.
He looks around the corner and sees her sitting, alone, at the table.
He smiles a little, gestures to the waiter. "Tell her I've been delayed, but I'm coming. Please."
The waiter nods.
He'd seen a flower shop around the corner, and he ducks in, chooses a single white rosebud.
White's the color of truce; it seems appropriate.
Karai is tapping her fingernails nervously on the tablecloth when he returns. If he looks closely, he can just see the yakuza tattoos behind her elegant sleeve. She is lovely, still, though from the way she dresses he can see she doesn't realize it. She is dressing to hide; her tattoos, her age, her sorrow.
He hadn't noticed how lonely she seemed until he saw her at the table. She had her guard down.
Isamu planned this well.
He slides the flower onto the table.
"We've been set up," he says gently, watching her face. Suprised, but she holds it in.
She smiles a little after a second. "I should have known."
"Shall we eat?" He slides into the chair opposite her.
"I suppose so."
"They say the food is wonderful."
Her smile is wry. "I'm sure."
"We can take the check out of Isamu's allowance."
"Not a bad idea." She pushes her menu over to him. "Go ahead and order for me, if you like. I'm no good with Western food."
"Trust?" He looks skeptical.
"For tonight," she says. "For a change."
"How'd it go?" Raph looks up from his magazine.
Leonardo closes the apartment door behind him. "Did you know?"
"Yeah." He closes the magazine. "How'd it go?"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Raph shrugs his shoulders. "Isamu asked us not to. Figured if we did, he'd just try something else."
Leo seems to accept this.
"So how'd it go?"
"I don't know." He sinks into a chair. "I thought I knew, at the time... I don't know. I..." He stares off into space. "I need to go to bed. I have class in the morning--"
"Leo."
He looks like a guilty kid. "I'm gonna see her again, okay?"
"Okay. Was that so hard to tell me?"
"Yeah, it was. It is." He closes his eyes. "I'm still in love with her, Raph. Still."
"Yeah."
"I mean, what the fuck is wrong with me?"
"Been asking myself that for years."
Leo rolls his eyes. "Raph--"
"You're fucked up, Leo. You're fucked up, I'm fucked up, we're all fucked up. What the hell do you want from me?"
"Bad day?"
"You got class in the morning."
"Yeah. I do." Leo sighs. "Freshmen."
"Is that bad?"
"They're all there to fill their history requirement. They're all there to look at the turtle. Beyond that, it's fine."
"Lucky you."
"Exactly." He sighs again. "'Course, I am lucky, really."
"They hired you because they thought you'd bring in more bodies, Leo. They're the lucky ones. You're a damn good teacher."
"Thanks." He stretches his arms out. "Bad day, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Should I force you to talk about it?"
Raph shrugs. "I'm just a dick, Leo. And I can't keep my fucking mouth shut about it."
He'd hidden the things in the false bottom of the drawer; he was pretty sure no one knew it was there but him, and he kept a little piece of tape there to make sure. The tape is still there, untouched, the things still sitting at the bottom.
When Renet had handed it to him, Carlos had stared at the invitation like it was a death certificate.
"We can't be together," she'd told Carlos that night. "He'd have to come to my time... and he won't do that. He won't leave you. I... don't think I'd love him as much if he would."
"And you can't come here?"
She shook her head. "I really shouldn't visit as often as I do. I might slip and say something... alter the course of history, that kind of thing. The risk is pretty low, but it's still there."
Carlos kept staring at the invitation, as if he could will it to change, as if by force of will he could make Leo marry the beautiful woman standing before him instead of the crazy Japanese chick who broke his heart in the first place.
"Look, I have something for you... to give them. When it's time."
She handed him a glass case with a tiny glass capsule inside. The capsule was shimmering, iridescent; it almost wasn't there, but it was. He'd stared at it, watched it turning green and gold and blue.
"It's fifteen minutes," she said.
"How's it work?" As Carlos turned it, the color changed again, green turning to red, then gold to white... "In case of emergency, break glass?"
"Pretty much." She'd looked so sad. "You can't stop it, Carlos. You'll only hurt him. And yourself, in the long run..."
"But--"
Her eyes were so deep, so blue. "Carlos, please... just trust me."
"But what about you?"
"I don't have any choices, here, honey. I don't belong here."
The red was turning yellow now, and the white was a deep purple.
"Carlos?"
"Is... is he happy? With her."
"I think so," she said gently, and Carlos almost thought he saw tears in her eyes. "And we... we couldn't be. We could never be. I love him too much for that... to want him to be alone. Do you understand?"
"Yeah," Carlos had said, lying. "I guess so."
Holding the capsule in his hand, watching it change colors over and over again, he thinks of Raven, wonders if he's starting to understand.
"You got in a fight?"
"I didn't start it!"
"Your first day and you got in a fight?"
"Dad, I didn't start it! What was I supposed to do, let her hit me?"
"You could've ducked!"
"Not forever!"
"Until somebody came!"
"Dad--"
"All right, enough yelling." Maureen sits down on the couch. "Tell us exactly what happened."
"This girl Charlene, she thinks I like her boyfriend. Tom." Angela rolls her eyes. "He wanted help with the assignment, 's all. So after school, she gets all in my face about it--"
"And you couldn't just defend yourself?"
"She gave me a black eye, Dad! Can't you see? I couldn't just defend myself-- she could fight!"
"I still don't like--" Maureen pauses when the doorbell rings. "This hasn't finished."
There is a young man at the door; black, tall, good-looking; he's got something under his arm. Maureen, who's not buying the just-needs-help story, wonders if it's Tom.
"Hello?"
"Hey." The kid's got a nice smile, anyway. He's kind of lanky, relaxed, smooth.
"M'name's Darryl. Uh... my sister Charlene, she kinda--"
"Oh."
"Yeah. Uh... my mom wanted her to come over and apologize, but... well, she'll come. I think. Just... not now. Um... anyway. My mom wanted someone to come over and apologize." He shrugs his shoulders. "She kinda started it."
His eyes widen a little, and Maureen becomes aware of someone over her shoulder. She turns around. Angela is smiling. "Hey."
"Hey," he says and smiles back. "Ma wanted me to apologize--"
"For her? Why ain't she here?"
He rolls his eyes. "Home soakin' her ego."
"Hey-- I didn't wanna fight her."
"Yeah, I know. She's the one who fought to get into this school, she dragged me into it... I dunno. She can be crazy sometimes. She's just lucky she didn't get caught."
"We both are."
"Yeah. Well... anyway. Ma wanted me to bring somethin' so I got some cookies--" He lifts the box up, and Angela walks up to take it.
Maureen starts wondering if the fight was really about Tom.
"Thanks."
"Hope you like 'em-- hey."
Darryl's face registers the arrival of Michaelangelo. Maureen admires the kid's cool.
"Hey."
"Hey, you never told me your dad was--"
"Was what?"
"My mom," Darryl says to Mike. "She knows you. All you guys--"
"Just let me borrow the car," Carlos whines.
"No."
"Come on, Shad--"
"No."
"Just for--"
Her eyes widen. "No."
"It's just for a couple--"
"Carlos, how many times do I have to say it?"
He plays his last card. "You know, my dad got you that car--"
The look in her eyes tells Carlos it was the wrong card to play. "It was my dad's car in the first place and your dad got it to give to me, remember? Not so you could have it. Not even so you could borrow it. Me. You got that?"
I'm going to get punched in the face next, he thinks, and raises his hands in surrender. "Got it. Sorry."
She leans back against the pillows and sighs. "'Salright." She puts her magazine down. "Why can't you just take Raph's car?"
"I need a back seat," he says, sitting down on the mattress next to her. "Angela and Isamu are coming too."
"Ohh, man." She rolls her eyes. "What are you, afraid of her? She's my sister, I can tell you she's not that tough--"
"Screw you, Shadow," he says, getting up.
"Hey, Carlos-- I didn't--"
"Look, I just wanted to borrow the car," he says coldly.
She grabs his arm. "You just gotta relax a little."
"I'll think of something, okay?"
"Maybe you could borrow Mom's car."
"That's a Volvo."
"It's a nice Volvo."
"Nice Volvo?"
"Sure," she says, dubiously. "It's black at least."
"Yeah."
"You guys could just take the subway."
"Yeah." He brightens up a little at that.
"Or you could dump Isamu and Angela and take the Alfa."
He growls at her, slams the door shut on his way out.
"Wuss," she mutters, opening up her Motor Trend and starting to read again.
"Keishi," Satoru wheezes from the wheelchair. He's still on a mechanical lung most of the day; the Foot Clan's lawyers had freed his father from jail, but not from the horrific damage the turtle had done to his body. Keishi still dreams of his body, his rage.
Dreams of cutting the turtle's head from his body.
"You're doing well."
"I'm ready, Father. I'm ready."
"No. Not yet. Things..." A painful, aching cough. "We are not ready yet."
"But--"
"Our time will come, Keishi. We only need to wait."
April hurries too much getting lunch around-- the office has been crazy all day, more than she and the staff can handle-- and the pitcher of water spills, flowing under the door that separates their apartment from the training room. She sighs and sops up as much as she can with a paper towel, then unlocks the door to get the steps.
When she opens the door she can see Raphael moving through the kata, calmly, evenly. As she dries the steps she can smell something; fresh paint. She had noticed it in the apartment but it was too subtle to register behind the locked adjoining door.
The training room side of the door's been painted. Dark blue; almost cobalt, with little night stars making a horizon just above the doorknob.
Shadow had said something about hanging out with Raph, doing some upkeep...
"You like it?" Raph's voice behind her.
"Yeah."
"Shadow thought of the stars."
"They're nice." She balls up the wet paper towel in her hand and starts to go up the steps again.
"Leo's got a date tonight," Raph says with a strange urgency. "Whatcha doin'?"
She shrugs her shoulders. "The kids are going out..."
"Wanna go somewhere? I could get Mike to take Lupe--"
She weighs it; looks in his face, sees the tension around his eyes. "Well, maybe... where?"
He leans back, rests against the rack of weights. "Where ya wanna go? We could go somewhere nice..."
She lifts an eyebrow. "How nice?"
He thinks for a second. "That dress you got... the kinda blue-green one?"
"The one I wore for Shadow's graduation?"
"Yeah."
"Where're we going?"
"I'm gonna surprise you."
"Okay," she says, and smiles almost in spite of herself.Maybe you will, she thinks. "When?"
"Seven?"
She nods. "See you then."
"Kay."
He stares at himself in the mirror for a long time before he puts on the suit.
Lucindra had asked why they were all wearing clothes now; he'd told her Leo's theory about social acceptance, about how dressing like a human would lead people to see them as more human, more deserving of rights, of acceptance.
But he'd wanted to be honest with her-- he always had been, as much as he could be-- so he'd explained about Mike's leg, and pulled his shirt up to show her the scar.
It starts high up-- almost too high-- and goes down to the level of his elbow, crisscrossed by dark metal over the center of his plastron, pulling the edges together, the shell growing back but discolored slightly where it meets the stitches. It itches sometimes.
It makes him look old.
He slips the chain with the nitroglycerine around his neck.
This is what it's like; the pills to keep his heart beating, to keep his blood pressure down.
The pump to keep his dick up.
He wonders what Splinter would think now, of him, of what he's become.
He puts his shirt on, eventually, pulls up his pants. The worst part is the shoes; even custom-fit, they're awkward, makes him feel slower.
Old and slow. That sounds about right.
He wipes his hand over his head, thinking.
April's wearing the dress.
Things could be worse.
He gets his tie on and heads out the door.
--end chapter eight--
--end book three--