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The Long Walk	By : Breech_Loader Category: Comics > Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Views: 2638 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the franchise of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, have invented none of its characters, and make no money from writing this story.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
The Long Walk
Co-Written by Harley Quinn hyenaholic and SonicFrank
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Harley: That’s a lot of chapters I have to put up, ain’t it?
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Chapter Fourteen: Corrections
At first, Michelangelo questioned whether or not answering their visitor's call was would be good for his health. Breech had tessen and they were sharp. His brother's choking coughs were the deciding factor, though, and he stepped into the room with a peevish look on his face. "Now, I'm no expert, but when you say there's something wrong, it may just be Mr. Tello's lack of expe -- Donny!" Stopping the moment he saw his brother struggling for breath, he dove to the floor beside him. "What happened!? What's wrong with him, Breech!?" In a sudden panic, the youngest of the four did what had come natural to him. He called for his brother. "RAPH!!!"
Donatello, choking, pointed to his desk. Beneath it, against the far wall, was a rather large grey bag. He began coughing as he dropped his hand, motions growing desperate.
Seeing that Mikey was proving useless at that moment, someone had to take action. "Oh, for god's sake!" Breech wailed, "I can't believe I let him do me to himself!" She followed Don's directions and opened the grey bag, searching through it for something that looked like it might help. She knew plenty about medical care when it came to drugs and overdoses - it was something you picked up when you lived with dealers - but nothing about allergies. And she didn't want to get too close again. She knew this was all her fault.
That was when an unfamiliar turtle walked in on the suspense. His eyes were as red as his mask, and his expression was that of a fuming bull. A certain heat emanated from his body, the blood running through it near boiling point. A glance around the room and a short snarl later, he was stomping toward his ailing brother, with no regard for the nude feline in his way.
Mikey was grabbing Don by the shoulders, lifting him to his feet. "Breathe, man! Breathe! You've done it since like, birth! What's the matter with you!? Donny!" The light-green terrapin was frantic - scared, having no idea how to react. If his brother was hurt, he wanted to take care of him. But how could he help him with a problem he couldn't see?
Breech was pushed aside onto the bed and against the wall by a harsh, dark-green hand, which then grabbed hold of the bag, and practically shoved it at the coughing Don's chest. "Come on, Bro. Hurry up, get what'cha need!" Raphael's voice was hoarse; brutal when compared to any one of his siblings.
Don's exhasperated accuracy when fumbling with the satch told his three caretakers that he knew exactly where to look. Breech had been searching the wrong pocket; there was a zipper on the right side of the bag. From it, he pulled out a six-inch nasal syringe, and looked to both related members of his audience.
Seeing as Mikey was screaming uncontrollably, he was decided on, and Don shut him up by sticking the farengyl in his mouth. A series of loud mumbles followed, and the purple-clad patient removed the tube from his brother's mouth. It was now lubricated with a thick film of saliva, and disgusting as it was, he proceded to shove the base-end harshly up his own nose. Bone was cracked and he winced in pain, but it forced his oxygen passage open, and his airflow was regained. The first breath he'd taken in several minutes was a long, desperate one.
"Ew! Mikey retorted in disgust. "Dude, that's gross. But the good news is, Don can say you stole his breath away, Breech, and it won't be a figure of speech!" He had no time to chuckle at his own joke, because a swung, open, three-fingered hand whacked him over the head just as he delivered it. "OW!"
"Shut up, Mikey!" Raph demanded. Donatello was, thankfully, leaning back against the wall, taking deep breaths as he focussed to recompose himself. A sigh of relief emanated from his massive chest, and he placed a three-fingered hand on his brother's shoulder. "Get it togethuh, Bro. Yuh all right now."
If Raphael hadn't hit Mikey, Breech would have. His brother could have been killed - by his new friend, no less - and he was making tasteless jokes about it? She looked over at Don, who was, thank god, now breathing, even if they were rapid, gasping breaths. She didn't take another step closer to him, "Let me guess... Raphael, right?" she checked with the turtle in the red bandana.
He turned to the girl. The newcomer. The one who nearly drowned his brother with her filth. "Y'know, you got some nerve," he started with clenching fists, "comin' into OUR home, fornicatin' with OUR brothuh, and nearly dicin' im in duh process!"
"Raph..." Don spoke through broken, congested breaths, left arm reaching for his brother. His right hand pointed at his chest, tapping it twice with his index finger.
Raphael growled in frustration, steamed with anger. "Get outta duh way!" He demanded at his youngest brother, and barely gave him enough time as he punched Don in the stomach, hard, which sent him shell-first against the wall behind him. "There. Feel bettuh now!?"
Donatello shook his head from the blow, and stood up straight. "Yes, actually. That helped a ton! Thanks, Raph!" His voice was almost back to normal again!
This time, everyone sighed in relief.
"Whoa, dude! All that excitement and all it took was a breath of fresh ai - OW!!" Another blow to his head from his brother, and Mikey was visibly out of jokes. Raphael, on the other hand, was more steamed than ever. He was the largest of the four. A muscle-head, built not much different from Casey. His body seemed built more for brute-force than selective tone, which made him by far the most intimidating of the quad. But Breech could tell, right away, that his anger made him sloppy.
Well done, Breech. The voice returned. Very well done. On your first visit to his home, you have introduced yourself to him by simultaneously fucking and almost killing his brother. Maybe next time you can spread the love by smuggling in 200 kilos of Anthrax, because that's the only way I can think of that you can trump this fuckup. For now though, Breech just sagged in relief, still holding the sheet to herself, "Thank god..." she muttered, leaning on the wall.
Donatello, now back on-track, realized the severity of the situation immediately. "Uh, guys? I know this is the wrong time to say this, but... this might not be the right time for an introduction." His hands raised to parallel his shoulders in an appologetic gesture. This was indeed very awkward...
Mikey raised an eyebrow, and jumped. "Oh! Right! Cuz she's naked under there! Right?" His brother nodded. "But so're we! I mean, all I'm wearing is a belt--" A sharp glare from Breech made him forget his words. "O-on the other hand, I also have a shell. So, I'm out, then!" Stepping for the door, he paused, and turned to the brother he had almost lost. " Donny? I'm glad you're all right, dude..."
With a soft smile, Donatello placed a hand on Mikey's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Thanks, Bro. You were a real hero back there. Like a medic in a war movie."
"Tuh-huh! Yeah, I was useless, but I was here! Just like the medics. Oh, and next time, try and add some music to that action- OW! Okay, okay! I'm leaving! Jeez, there wasn't even a joke that time..." He walked out the room, rubbing painfully at the spot his bulkiest brother had just pummeled.
Raphael stood frozen by his heat. "Donny, yuh got a lottuh explainin' tuh do." His voice had a growling effect to it.
Donatello shook his head, smiling a calm smile to quell his brother's anger. "Well, it's really quite simple. When a man and a woman fall in love, the man's brothers leave his room. That's how it goes, yup!"
Breech was currently attempting to move around the edge of the room so that she could get hold of her discarded sports bra and shorts without being noticed. Her ears were pink with both humiliation and anger at herself.
Raphael’s grumbling persisted, but he turned to the door anyway. "Dis ain't ovuh, Bro. Not by a long shot!" When he stepped out the room, Don turned to Breech, and came to the harsh realization that this, being alone with her while she was naked and he had a tube up his nose, was actually more awkward than when his brothers were there.
"Don't say you're sorry, Don," Breech scooped up her bra, and held out a hand in a blocking motion, "And don't even think of hugging me. I just gave you a severe allergic reaction, and I'm not letting you hold me for at least 24 hours! I'm sure as hell not letting this happen to you again!"
He refused to be sorry in the first place, or allow himself to feel guilt on either one of their parts. The way he'd been feeling for her, before, during, and even after the moment when he was fighting for his life, far surpassed any form of logic or responsibility. And he'd have to remind her of that. "Breech... stop it. It shouldn't be like this. That moment with you was worth dying for..."
He had to turn away from her while removing the plastic cylinder from his nasal passage, so as not to show her the rather gross body fluids that were sure to come out with it.
"Don, this is serious," Breech growled, wiping herself with the sheet, "Nothing, and nobody, especially not me, is worth dying for. I could have killed you! How do you think I would have felt about THAT? Furthermore, how do you think I'd have gotten out of this lair alive?"
On the other hand, maybe he could feel guilty. As he worked his way to removing the nasal farangyl - which was very difficult, due to the the sheer size of his fingers and the tiny nostrils he had to work with - he realized that all the books, the studying, the experimenting, the building, the gathering, the learning; nothing could have prepared him for what was happening. How could he answer her question without sounding like a complete moron? When the tube was removed, he looked at her with pleading eyes, but shifted them to the ground when he came up with nothing.
"No. Don't feel guilty," Breech told him, "I blame myself. I knew you're allergic, just as much as you know. But I still got you hot and encouraged you every step of the way, just not letting myself think about it," she started to dress herself one-handedly. She'd need a shower when she got back to April's, "You're male, and so your hormones automatically over-rule your common sense. But I should have been able to think straight, and simply not allowed you to be so stupid."
To a scientific, moralistic and honor-driven mind such as his, her words were insulting. His hormones had nothing to do with the overriding of common sense that had just occurred within him, it was love. But for the sake of not being defensive, he held his tongue, and chose a different route. "So that's all it was, then?" He asked, eyes still stabbing the ground beneath. "Just stupidity..?"
Breech looked down, "It wasn't stupidity that made you and me want to do this..." she said finally, trying to pull on her shorts without showing her body. It might have seemed a little dumb to Don, who had just seen her totally naked, but it was a female thing, "Just stupidity that we went ahead." She hoped she didn't sound as much of a bitch as she felt right then.
He still disagreed, and he wasn't afraid. The allergens would have to fight him about a hundred pounds harder than they had that night to keep him from wanting to touch her. In fact, the sole reason they were apart at the moment was her. "Need some help with that?" he asked while reaching for the sheet with a careful hand.
"No," Breech told him, finishing dressing and dropping the sheet, which now needed a wash, "No, Don... I meant what I said, every word. Right down to the fact that I love you. Don't you think this is hard for me, too?"
Dropping his hand as he looked at her, he smiled. "Of course I do. I know it is." Hard wasn't the word; it was an understatement for excrutiatingly painful. "But Breech, I'm not sure what you hope to gain by not letting me touch you. You're actually causing a reverse-effect. Being around you is what's going to help me grow an immunity to the allergy; staying away will just keep us at square one. Didn't you notice how long I was able to hold you without any effect? And besides that," His eyes grew pleading again. "I promised I'd hold you all night..."
"Geez, why don't you just write a suicide note already?" Breech asked him, "Dear my brothers, I decided to kill myself in the most enjoyable way possible - by having sex with a cat," she sneered slightly, "Or do you just get hard from the idea of near-death-experiences?" She was angry - and she was most angry at herself.
Don took a step back. She was attacking him, and he didn't like it. "...this was our first sexual experience together. I just wanted to end it on a good note." His explaining was done with a softer voice than usual. "But it's okay. There's enough good to focus on tonight than there is bad, so I'll just forget the catastrophe. Because aside from my choking on your kitty-dander... You were amazing..."
"Wow, yes, because my greatest goal in life has always been to kill a man with an orgasm," she said sarcastically. She looked down, "But aside from that... You were amazing too, Don."
"Really?" His look changed. A little. He really couldn't help it. Even now, being with her made him happy...
"Yeah..." Breech flushed, "You know, it's a fact that not every man can get a woman to cum before he does. In fact... not many of them can," she looked up at Don, "Hey, I did have access to the Internet, remember?"
He shook his head, slightly. "That's common knowledge, Breech. Even Mikey knows that."
A hyper-active voice that was all too voice emanated from the doorway again. "Did not! I'm innocent, remember?!"
Don's face went glum. "Moving on... Breech, you're over-reacting. Really, I know the severity of the problem. I felt it! But it's gone now and I don't feel it anymore. I still feel the same way about you, though, and running from the problem won't help any... Please. Consider what I'm saying. Growing a steady immunity is the best way to handle allergies to a cat's dandruff. Or a Teenage Mutant Ninja Kitty, in your case. I have access to the internet, remember?" His eyes were still pleading, but his smile was friendly, open. Warm..
"Don, I didn't say I never wanted to see you again," Breech said, trying to ignore the fact that Mikey was outside the door, "But this was a close call. Too close. If your brothers hadn't been here - and believe me, right up until you stopped breathing, I'd have rather they hadn't been - I wouldn't have known what to do. And by the way, Mikey, I knew you were outside the room all the time," she added, not turning, "I could hear you breathing. And if it hadn't been for the overwhelming smell of hormones in this room, I'd have smelt you too."
"Hey, I'm not hiding! I was just enjoying the show!"
Don rolled his eyes. "See, this is why it's best to ignore him. He'll get bored with us eventually."
"Nuh-uh! Not with looks like - OW!!!" And he was dragged off.
"Well..." Breech flushed, "I don't think I'll get bored with you, Don. Although I'd rather avoid this particular brand of excitement."
Don reached a hand out. "Then enjoy me while you can. Even turtles get old eventually." He kept his hand out for her, hoping to God she'd take hold of it. "Come on... You won't hurt me. Unless you bite..."
"I won't bite," Breech smirked, "Unless you want me to," she took his hand cautiously.
"Saw that one coming." He smiled, and rubbed his thumb on her palm. After that, he grew bolder, and leaned his face toward her, planting a gentle kiss upon the hand she'd given him. Then he looked up at her again. "See? I'm just fine."
"Don't, Donny," Breech pleaded quietly, "Besides, I can't stay all night. I don't live here. I live with April, remember?"
This actually made him laugh. A little. "I'm just trying to get you to hug me. It'd help if you weren't such a wuss." It was a daring move, but something told him she'd take his challenge.
"And what if I set you off again?" Breech asked him, worried, "You've just had a reaction; even light contact could set you off again, and worse than ever."
Don had to consider this, because she had a point. He took a deep breath, drawing in as much air as he could, and released it. "Test one, complete. Test two, commencing." A single step, and she was in his arms again. He rubbed gently, up and down, from her shoulders to her elbows, admiring the soft fur.
Breech tensed up this time, instead of relaxing. How could Don just do this? Just hold her when he could get killed? And she wanted to stay here, and just let him be stupid and herself be weak! She let him hold her for as long as she dared, then pushed him away, "Making you let go of me hurts even more than not holding you at all," she told him, feeling wretched that she was the one who had to do this.
He sighed. "Test two, failed. I guess." Rejection. It sucked. But at least he got to hold her at all, if just for a few seconds. He put his game-face back on, and lifted his mattress. Beneath it, was a space. A space as long and wide as the mattress itself, and the bedframe had a big hole in it. Holding the mattress up with one arm, he reached in with the other, and pulled out a bag. She may or may not have seen something like it before. It was a rucksack; but oddly designed. "I guess it's time I walk you home, huh? We ought to visit Master Splinter before you go, though. It'd leave a bad impression if you came and didn't see him..."
God, he's acting like I don't want to hold him, Breech thought, Wouldn't I like to slap that stupid idea out of his head... "Yeah, I should tell Master Splinter about this," she said instead, scratching at her neck.
Don smirked. She could see it on the side of his face, even though his dark-brown shell was facing her that moment. "I'm quite sure that he heard the whole thing, Breech. Especially that last bit..." He lifted the bag up, tossed it over his shoulder, and held it on his shell, one elbow pointed toward her when he face her. "Even if he didn't, Leonardo's told him the whole story by now. Does the term 'rat me out', mean anything to you?"
"Well, whatever," Breech said quietly, leaving the room. She almost collided with Raphael as she did so, "Hello, Raphael," she told him, not sure what he was going to do, but absolutely certain that he was not going to be happy.
The last thing anyone would expect Raphael to do was grin. But he did. Arms crossed, Sai holstered."Well well. Looks like Donny-boy found himself some pussy. Wouldn't yuh say, Pussy-Cat?"
"I may be covered in cat-hair, but I'm not ignorant," Breech said, not convinced that this was supposed to be a compliment, "But thank you, Raphael. And my name is Breech," she added, "Breech Loader."
"Breech Loaduh. Load uh crap. His grin faded, and his gaze glared. "I dunno why, but everyone in dis nut-house says yuh okay, Cat. But-"
He was interrupted by his brother, who nearly collided with Breech as he left the room, rucksack over his shell. "She is okay, Raph. And her name is Breech. If you don't have anything nice to say about my guest, you can keep your mouth shut, just like I did when you brought Casey here without permission."
"Casey ain't no damn stinkin' Foot! Dis one heah's uh-"
"Get outta my way." Don walked down the stairs, calmly. "Breech, we don't have time for this. If he wanted to interrogate you, he should've stuck around when you first showed up. Now we have to talk to Master Splinter."
Breech stepped around Raphael, sure he wouldn't get out of his way, and jumped down to ground level. If they were going to have an argument, she'd rather they didn't have one on a balcony. The last thing she needed to do now was have Don's brother break his shell in a fall.
"Hey! I ain't done taukin' tuh you, yet!" Raph yelled from the top. "Donny, whut the shell's gotten into you!? Last I checked, I was second in charge, which makes you my-"
Donatello interrupted him again. "We'll talk about this later, Raph. We need to go see Master Splinter so Breech can say hello and get back to April's at a decent time. I'll square you away when I get back." He kept walking, fully expecting his girlfriend to follow.
Breech decided it was best not to talk to Raphael if he wasn't addressing her. Although his attitude already made her doubt his claim of second in command. A second in command would be somebody the leader could turn to for advice, or to collaborate plans. Besides, if it came down to verbal insults, she'd spent enough time being insulted herself, and listening to people scream at each other, to know how to react. She followed Don, turning her back on Raphael.
Raphael blinked. Then grumbled again, clenching his fists tightly. Donatello had never acted this way before. And it was unacceptable. Could it be that he didn't find Raphael intimidating? That he didn't take his anger seriously? This would not do.
"So, what is that sack thing?" Breech asked Don as they walked to Master Splinter's room.
Donatello continued his path for Master Splinter's room. "It's a convenience. I assure you, it isn't a gift. Just a part of my promise." For that one moment, his tone seemed off - serious, warned, as though he were scanning his surroundings with his ear-holes and peripherals for any impending danger. But when there was nothing, he spoke cheerfully once more. "I designed it specifically for your body type. It shifts most of the weight of its contents diagonally, so it won't weigh you down completely when you stuff it full of necessities and wear it. You will accept it, Breech. It isn't a gift. It's something you're going to need if worst comes to worst, and you find yourself in a position where you don't have a home."
"Right..." Breech told him, "I did tell you about the time I was eating from garbage bins when I was 14, right? You know, without any equipment at all? Just checking. So, what IS it you're carrying?"
He looked at her over at her as he walked. "It's what I like to call a shell-sack. It has the same components as the ones I built for my brothers - specifically meant to strap onto our shells. But in your case, I'll call it a nap-sack. It has pockets that are in tune perfectly with all the survival gear I'll be issuing to you within the next few days. I'm giving it to you now, though, so you can start packing it with food, in case something happens before I can make all that other stuff for you." Eating from a trashcan? Not if he could help it. "That story of yours tells us both why this piece of equipment is so important. I refuse to have you eating out of trashcans, Breech. Not if I have anything to say or build about it. It's... a 'friend' thing." He smiled to her, and stopped in front of a mahogany sliding-door.
"Hmmm..." Breech knew Don meant well. She was kind of proud of her ability to survive with next to no flashy equipment, though. The feline didn't understand or realise that she'd almost reverted back to a pure feral existence in the month she'd been living rough. She opened the door and was suddenly uncertain of whether she should have knocked, or if Don should go in first. Master Splinter was currently drinking green tea.
He smiled at her, and nodded his head, inviting her to enter first. The room had a colour scheme of burgundy and red. It was lit by candles - holders of three aligned next to each other against the far wall. Each wall was covered in scriptures she couldn't read, as they were Japanese. There was a small tree beside her as she walked in - one that obviously wasn't from New York.
"Master Splinter," she addressed the elderly rat. After a few seconds of uncertainty, she knelt; more sloppily than Don or his brothers. She was trying to fit in, "I... um..." she looked up at Don, "Nearly killed your son tonight. By accident."
Don knelt beside her. "It's a technicality, Master Splinter." He addressed him with a smile. "She didn't mean to. It was my fault more than hers, it's my condition. I got too close."
"Child," Splinter took a sip of green tea. He felt little need to inform her that he had not only heard most of it, but had already been told of it by Leo, "Of course it concerns you. I would be most concerned if it did not. But I see that Donatello is well once again?" he looked up at his son.
He nodded. "Nothing a good blow to the gut from Raph couldn't fix, Sensei." He acted the scenario out by punching his right fist into his left palm as he spoke. "You've taught us well; he hit me right on the spot, even with my plastron. It cleared my entire system just as you said it would." He spoke to his father with a smile. It was no wonder why he couldn't help being in a good mood, even after nearly choking to death.
"I understand now why I can't live here," Breech told Master Splinter, "I don't want to hurt Don..." she felt awkward saying this with Don right there.
"Do not be afraid, Bridget," Splinter told her, "You have both learned something from this experience. And hopefully such a situation will not arise again."
"So... you're not going to keep me from visiting?" Breech looked up again, "And you'll still train me?"
"No, and yes," Splinter told her, "Tonight has been most stressful for you, however. I will continue your training as kunoichi tomorrow."
His son seemed more occupied with his thoughts at the moment. For the first time since she made him break his prototype, he found himself thinking scientifically. He had a hand under his chin, and was staring at the floor. Splinter knew that look. He was deep in thought, and it may or may not have been best to disrupt him.
"It was not necessary for you to tell me this, Bridget," Splinter continued, "But I am glad you trusted me enough to tell me yourself. I wish you a pleasant journey back to April's apartment."
"Thank you, Master Splinter," Breech stood again. She was far less versed on Japanese etiquette than Donatello or any of his brothers, but she inclined her head slightly to Splinter as she did so.
Don was lost in thought. His eyes seemed to stare into a different dimension, where complicated equations and theories all add up to make perfect sense. And right now, he was thinking up something spectacular.
Breech looked at him for a few seconds, then reached into her belt and produced a tessen, opening it with her customary loud snap.
He didn't shriek in terror, but the instincts of his terrapin ancesrty spoke loudly to him. So, for a moment, he was only a shell; one that dropped to its flat-side.
A sudden laughter echoed out of it, and Master Splinter raised an eyebrow in response. "Donatello?" He asked, vexed.
The son in question poked his head out to look at his visitor, which was... odd, to say the least. "THAT'S IT!!! I've got it!"
Breech was surprised, "What? What's it? That I just made you collapse from terror?"
"No!" He replied excitedly, "I have all the dead skin and fur samples I could possibly need! YES!" Rather than protrude his limbs from the safety of his shell, he turned forcefully, a few swift shifts of his left shoulder, to face Master Splinter. "Sensei! I may have come up with something to solve your dry fur problem! Oh, I have so much work to do!" He was ecstatic.
"...Good?" Splinter said eventually.
"Well, I'll be going now," Breech spoke again, "Don't worry, I'll be fine on my way back. Besides, I've got some thinking to do, and I prefer to think in private. I'll leave you to your idea, Donny."
Her words snapped him out of his daze. "Huh? Oh, right." His limbs extracted now, and he pushed himself back up to a kneeling position. "Can I at least walk you to the safest sewer-cap, so you don't get yourself lost in the maze that is the New York City Pipeline?" He didn't mind her request one bit. And it showed in his soft smile.
"Well, okay," Breech conceded. She took the nap-sack from him, "And thanks, anyway. I mean, April's apartment is fine, but this will make her couch more comfortable. But then, I can sleep on a wire."
He shook his head. "If I catch you sleeping on a wire, I'll take a picture and draw a mohawk on you." He stood up, now, and bowed to Master Splinter. "Goumen Nasai, Sensei. Thank you for your time."
"Goodnight, Master Splinter," Breech told the elderly rat, "I'll be here tomorrow to be trained," she bowed slightly, before leaving the room holding the nap-sack.
"Goodnight, Bridget," Splinter replied calmly.
"I'll tell you all about my theory as soon as I piece it together, Master Splinter. It could help! But no promises. Goodnight!" And he followed Breech. Thankfully, Raph wasn't waiting by the door this time.
Breech reached the hat stand, and then paused and turned back to the lair, "Hey, Leo, Mikey, Raphael!" she called out, "I'm going back to April's now! See ya tomorrow, most likely!"
Leonardo appeared rapidly, "Goodnight, Breech," he told her, "On the whole, it's been pleasant to meet you." He offered his hand, and she shook it firmly.
Mikey skid out from behind the couch, and ran to her, "Aw, leaving already? That's not fair, you spent almost the whole time rockin' my brother's world in his room! Can't you stay any longer?"
Don thought about this. And, since it was true, decided on not scolding him for the comment. Raphael was no-where in sight. Big surprise...
"Love to, Mikey," Breech punched the orange turtle on his plastron lightly, "But we cats need our sleep, and I'm going to need mine tonight if I'm to come to visit again tomorrow. Besides, I've got an Event coming up this week, and I need to be ready for that too." From the vagueness of her description, Don guessed she was talking about going on her joyride with Casey.
"Hah!" He grabbed a nunchuck, and whacked Leo on the back of his shell for it. "See!? I told you she wasn't mad when I showed her the Streaky comic! She just called herself a cat!"
Don decided it was time to leave, then. "I'll be back in a few minutes, guys. Just going to walk Breech to vault nineteen."
"Of course I was mad," Breech corrected Mikey. She pulled on her hijab in a flash, once again becoming a black pillar, "I know me. I didn't know you." She pulled on her veil, although as yet most of her face was uncovered.
"Oh! Right! ...I don't get it. You old people make no sense!"
"Just let it go, Mikey. I'll explain it to you when I get back." Don came between them. "Let's go, Breech. You'd better get home before April sees fit to put you on time-out."
Mikey kept arguing, though. With Leo in the background. "That's bullspit! She can call herself a cat but I can't!? It's discrimination, I tell ya! Discrimination by Mikey!"
"Ha. Like she could keep a kunoichi from going out," Breech smirked as she once again covered her face, and stepped out the door. She didn't try to explain herself to Mikey. He wouldn't hear her anyway.
Don followed her with a matching smirk, the door shutting and concealing the lair behind him. "You'd be surprised. Wait 'til you taste her vanilla pudding. You'll get on your back and juggle some yarn for it. I guarantee it."
From outside the door came the sound of somebody getting slapped across the face. Leo smirked slightly, "Well, looks like Breech does have some limits to being joked about," he told Mikey, "You might not want to make too many cracks about her being a feline. Maybe you should stick to her real name, you know?"
Mikey crossed his arms. "Fine." He mimicked Master Splinter's accent. "Oh wise, noble Leonardo.", and went back to grinning instantly. "But I can still call you a kiss-ass!" Then he took off, laughing like the child he was.
Donatello stopped short, rubbing his face. Which was now red. "Um. Ow!?"
“I would never do that! No matter how good her pudding is,” Breech told him, “But look on the bright side - you didn't push it far enough for me to use my claws."
Don rubbed at his face. His cheek burned from the slap, and he had never seen her strike before, much less felt her strike him. There was such power, such technique behind her slep. He'd have never seen it coming; only a trained ninja could hit like that. He began making his way to the nearest safe exit without protest.
Breech smirked, "Well, maybe I'll taste April's pudding sometime, but I certainly won't do any tricks for it." she told him, following him to the exit. She couldn't help it. Dirty retorts came to mind, and she'd do that thing when her mouth opened and words came out.
He decided it best to change the subject. "Tomorrow, you're going to get to spar with us. You better make a good impression, or you'll never hear the end of it from Mikey."
"Oh, I'll do my best," Breech smirked again, "You guys may be stronger than I am... but that's not what I need to kick your asses." This was mostly bravado. She wasn't sure how capable she was of beating any of them.
The exit wasn't too far off. They actually arrived beneath it in the short amount of time they'd been conversing. There was a pot-hole above them, the moonlit night shining through the penny-sized metal holes, "Well. This is it. Guess I'll see you tomorrow." His smile was genuine, but his eyes were hesitant.
"Oh, Donny," Breech hugged him suddenly, "I... I do love you... Really I do. You're... so many things..." She couldn't find the words. For so long she'd been forced to contain her emotions, and hold her tongue, and now when she wanted to tell Don how she felt about all the things he could do, she couldn't find the words, "I know I was afraid to hold you..." she told him, "But that doesn't mean I don't want to. I just don't want to hurt you."
Don was taken aback, big time. It took him a few seconds just to compute that he should hug her back. And even then, he hesitated greatly. Seeing her there, though, feeling her arms tighten around his shell, and her head press upon his plastron, made it all go away. His large, powerful hands embraced her back soothingly. "Yeah... I know..." His lips touched the top of her scalp as he held her, and his eyes closed, "I love you too. It hurts, to love you this much, and know that I have to let you go. It's torture..."
Breech broke away, "You scared me tonight," she told him, "I think you scared me because... because I've never felt so concerned for somebody else's safety in my whole life..." She blushed to her ears, and pulled up her veil, "Goodnight, Don." She climbed the ladder, then looked down at him, just before she pushed open the sewer lid and up to the street.
Letting her go hadn't gotten any easier for him. The tunnels he called home were always damp, but they were never this cold. He waved a hand as he looked up at her, his smile glowing gorgeously with a hint of love, and the sorrow of letting her go. His gaze matched his smile. He had never looked at anyone the way he looked at her. "Good night, Breech." He wanted to watch her leave, but figured it best if he just slid the lid shut himself. Then he sighed. Just like that, he was alone again...
~~~
Harley: What did I say about reviewing?
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The Long Walk