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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
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The Long Walk

Co-Written by Harley Quinn hyenaholic and SonicFrank

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Harley: Okay, two things. First off, I've researched the hijab as best I can. In popular use, hijab means "head cover and modest dress for women" among Muslims. It can be anything from a simple headscarf to the complete covering of the body bar the hands, feet and eyes, with a different word for each one, so I'm going for the latter definition. Further information can be found on Wikipedia.

SonicFrank: We’re not going to go into the various arguments over how hijab should be interpreted. So don’t bother to go on about it in any review. The opinions expressed by the characters in this fanfic are not necessarily ours.

Harley: Secondly, this chapter introduces April and Casey. They will play moderate but important roles in this fanfic; Casey in particular.

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Chapter Three: Oh Christmas Tree...

Thirty-fourth Street. Building 3206, apartment 19A. Casey Jones found himself hugging a Christmas tree, lifting with his knees, and attempting to walk to the front door with it. The tree completely outsized him, and its branches poked him everywhere, Jeez. Where's a mask when I need it? he thought, "C'mon, April! It's duh middle o' Spring! Wutcha still got dis hulkin' tree in dis little apartment foah!?”

"Because, like the nine-year old boy that seems to have possessed your brain, you didn’t want to throw it out until it's gone totally brown and..." April O'Neil stopped as her cell-phone started to buzz, and looked at who was calling. It was one of the turtles. In fact, it was Donatello, who was probably her favourite. She smiled, wondering what he wanted, and answered, "Hey, Donny?" she asked, "That's you on the other end, right?"

"April. I need a favour." It was Don's voice, no doubt. And he sounded a bit desperate.

Casey was in the other room, still struggling with the tree, "Keep callin' me a Boy Scout an' I'll toss ya wit' duh stupid tree!"

April ignored Casey's protests - he and the turtles were the ones who had been so keen on having a big Christmas tree in the apartment in the first place. They couldn't have a real tree in the sewers, for about a million reasons, so for once she'd gotten a big one, instead of the little one she normally did. Mikey had been enthralled, "A favour? Sure," April returned, "Do you need help with something? Or advice? Or," she grinned a little, "A cover-up?"

"Yes, a favour. It's... sort of a cover-up."

Something broke in the living room that moment, followed by a "Whoops." from Casey.

"...what was that noise? Are you okay?" Donny asked all of the sudden. The sound of breaking pottery came naturally when it came to April's place, but it caught him off-guard at that particular moment.

"Casey's here, helping me throw out the old tree," April told Don, "He seems to be having a little trouble..." she winced as the sound of breaking glass came from the living room, "For crying out loud, Casey," she called to the sports-freak in the next room, "At least try not to swing that thing around! And keep it away from the new china!" She didn't really feel like going to see what had been broken just yet - there wasn't much she could do about it by now anyway, "So, what's the cover-up about?" she asked Donny, her voice normal again.

"You keep dissin' me, O'Neil, I'll swing dis t’ing and send YOU tuh China!" he called back, obviously still struggling. He could be really clumsy, for such a powerful man.

"Oh jeez,” Don sighed, “One of these days, I'm going to have to build that guy some coordination. But listen, I'm meeting someone... tonight. And I need you to cover for me."

"You're meeting somebody?" April asked, too curious to not ask, "You want to tell me who? And why it's a big secret to the others?"

Donatello had grown to trust April with any secrets he or his brothers had. But in this case, it might've been safer to hold off, "You have my word that I'll tell you the next time I visit. But I really need you to cover for me, April. If anyone asks, I was with you all night. Helping with... the tree. Casey won't mind me stealing his thunder for a change."

There was another crash, "Well, I expect he won't mind what with all the things he's breaking - or should I say you're breaking," April joked. She sighed, "Okay, I won't pry... Just... stay out of trouble, okay Don?"

"I suggest you worry about Casey instead of me. That last one sounded expensive!" He joked back. "And it's not coming out of my allowance, thunder or none." She heard Casey begin to struggle just a tad, but something was different. Something was going on in that room. Was that a light draft she just felt..?

"Okay, but play safe Donny," April paused for a moment, the phone still on, "Oh god, Casey," she headed for the living room, "Don't tell me you broke the god-damn window!"

Don closed his Shell Cell when she finished her sentence, and the call ended. Just as she walked into the room, Casey managed to push the tree out of said window with a little strain. She heard it crash into a pile of alley trash below, followed by the screaming sound of a startled alley cat. He dusted his hands off in triumph, "Dere. Wut's dat Don always blabs about? Mind ovuh Muscle! Why lift duh tree when I could just push it around?"

"Indeed," April said dryly, "And why open a window when you could just break it?" she looked out of the window. She could see the trash cans messed up, and the tree all over the place - its needles were all over the apartment too - and what looked like a large cat fleeing the area, "Well Casey, you've successfully wormed your way out of taking out the Christmas tree next year. Congratulations."

"'Ey!" He placed his hands on his hips, red tank-top making no attempt at covering his broad shoulders, or for that matter, his gorgeously toned arms. "I pushed dat tree out duh window better dan any tuhtle evuh could! Next time, yuh can just push it out chuh-self!"

April just sighed with a smile and shook her head, "Oh, you great dumb hockey-nut..."

He grinned, and couldn't help shaking his head. At least she wasn't mad about the china...

~~~

"God Damn!" Breech gasped. Somebody's old brown Christmas tree had just fallen out of a window and almost landed on her. What kind of idiot threw a Christmas tree out of a window? In the middle of spring?! She shook herself and checked her watch. Damn again... She'd have to pick up the pace if she wanted to be at the Chrysler Building by nine. Better take the rooftops. At least there'd be no risk of falling trees that way. She hitched up the hijab, tucked it into her short shorts, hurried up the nearest fire escape, and headed for the most important meeting of her life. So far, she reminded herself...

Donatello was perched on the side of a roof, his face barely visible beneath the thick hat he wore. In truth, it was Mikey's when they were younger, and he was going through his Michael Jackson phase. The hat reminded him of 'Smooth Criminal'. Then Raph adopted it for the same purpose Don was using it for now. He gripped the edge of the rooftop with his powerful feet, and shoved his Shell Cell in his left pocket. The coat was buttoned up. Well. Here goes, he thought to himself, and he leapt swiftly, but powerfully, to the next rooftop, then pole-vaulted across a busy New York street to the next...

Breech continued to run across the rooftops, focussing on her jumps. No problem. Just press back at the right spot, push, and let nature - among other things - do the rest. Nobody saw her. People rarely looked up just in case they spotted gymnasts using rooftops as a shortcut. The Chrysler Building was an easy landmark, although the buildings were getting taller. Probably not a good idea to try climbing up one of the tallest buildings in New York though. Besides, taking an elevator would give her a minute or two to make sure she was fully covered. She entered the building next door and took the steps down, her departure as unnoticed as her arrival. ..

Don, however, felt more exhilaration running through his veins than the time he let Mikey drive the van, and was more than happy to release some energy by scaling the taller buildings the city had to offer. Normally, he'd look to find an easier, smarter, less strenuous route. But tonight, he could climb Mount Olympus while wearing a rucksack with the Shredder's armour in it. When he reached the Chrysler Building, he couldn't help thinking what Mikey would say. 'Gee, just meet the girl at the top. Why didn't Kong think of that?' He smiled to himself as he pulled his body weight past several windows. Mikey was a doofus, but he could always make him smile...

Breech arrived at the front door, went through, and hurried into an elevator, setting it for the roof. She was glad nobody was in it with her. She pulled the hijab back down, and checked her face was covered. People came in and out but nobody else was heading to the roof. She paused, just before she stepped out onto the roof, "Deep breaths," she told herself, "Prepare for disappointment. Even if he's as awesome as he seemed on the net, he won't understand once he sees... please let him understand..." she paused, "Please let him actually be there..." Being stood up would somehow be worse than all the other bad things he'd probably say when he saw her face...

This was too good to be true. Suddenly, Don couldn't help being alert - aware of his surroundings. What if it's a trap? What if it's a diversion? What if my brothers are being attacked right this instant? What if... what if she's not there? Well, at least I brought my best hat... he tried to calm himself with a joke. It didn't work. If this really were a trap, he'd have to be prepared. In fact, he'd have to have the upper hand. And so he leapt toward an edge - the short, cement barrier which prevented falls, and swiftly landed atop his bo, crouched upon it in a fascinating display of balance. This provided him with the cover of the night sky, as he was above the roof's light source...

"Breathe in... breathe out..." Breech tried to calm herself. She was so excited and yet so scared. She never got scared. Normally she skipped straight to anger. Was anything showing? No. Well, her eyes were showing, but that was something that couldn't be dealt with. Suddenly a thought occurred to her. The Chrysler Building. Famous for its bright lights and floodlit roof. Like daylight, almost. In dim light, her eyes looked almost normal. In bright light, when they were the only thing on view, they'd be obvious. She almost turned back at that thought. But she'd come so far... she couldn't turn back now. Even if it was a goddamn cop out there. Which reminded her. Traps. The family was very good with traps. She reached into the folds of the hijab and pulled out one of her two tessen, keeping it folded for now so that it looked like a normal fan, "Breathe in, breathe out..." she murmured, "And... step out," she looked down at her feet, "I said step out, damn you!"

Don had a birds' eye-view of the city, and the landing of the roof. If anybody, or anything, walked out there, he'd spot them before they spotted him. Master Splinter had trained him well... If only his training could stop his heart from pounding through his shell...

"Step out," Breech hissed at her unresponsive feet. With a final burst of will, she overpowered them and threw herself out of the door, squinting slightly in the sudden bright light. Nobody. She didn't know if she was relieved or disappointed. But her other senses weren't diminished one bit. Somebody was there. Hiding. She heard them, felt them. She trusted her instincts, holding the tessen like a club, "I know you're there," she said loudly, not turning, "If you're here to fight me, can we get it over with now? I've got a date up here and I'm already late for him." Her voice was low and husky, almost a purr, but clear at the same time.

Something burst through the door to the rooftop. Something hooded - and female. He could sense it in his blood. It was her! He tried speaking, but his voice shook, "It's only six minutes, twenty-seven seconds, between thirteen and fifteen milliseconds and eleven-hundred eighty-two geo-cosmic temporal stigmatises, Breech." He meant to move, but he didn't. In fact, he almost lost his balance for a moment, "I-I'm sure I can forgive it..." His voice was so kind, so... easy on the ears. Not hoarse, not deep, not high, not forceful or weak. Just... pleasant... light. The wind shifted, and his purple bandana swung, cape-like in its sudden outburst. Still, he remained motionless, his eyes gleaming white beneath their mask...

He sounded like she'd imagined, like she'd wanted him to sound... kind, understanding, and strong. Voices could deceive but right now she didn't give a shit. The hijab shifted in the wind slightly, for a moment billowing behind her, before she pulled it around herself again, "D-Donny?" she couldn’t believe it. Her voice was shaking. She pinpointed where the voice had come from. And turned. There was a shape there. About five feet up, "Donny?" she asked, hoping so badly...

He was shrouded in darkness, too much for her to see his features, but he was definitely there. The obvious shape of a hat protruded through the darkness where his head should be, and a pair of gleaming white, kind eyes shone in her direction. Only now did he realize that his weapon was visible, and that he'd have to explain the reasons behind it. On top of that, he was balanced upon it, which April told him was an amazing feat, though he'd been doing it since he was twelve, "U-um... would you mind looking away... just for a moment?" If he could get himself to stop trembling, maybe he could get a straight sentence across...

Breech paused. It was stupid to turn your back on a potential danger. But with him being five foot off the roof, balancing on a staff... hell with it, "So, heh... what're you doing up there, anyway?" she asked, turning her back to him.

The night was soundless for two seconds. Then he was standing just two feet behind her, bo held in both hands before him. He was in the light, now. Not as tall as she imagined, only two inches taller than her. He was clad in a trench coat, and either had the build of a wrestler, or he had something large covered up beneath it. His bo had purple tape wrapped around the center. He was barefoot. His face was... unimaginably different from what anyone would expect. But it was smiling, and its eyes were friendly beyond their purple cover...

Curious, she tried to peer under the hat, but bright light was detrimental to her ability to see into the shadows. What she could see, was that there were indeed facial deformities. And he looked like he had some sort of hunched back. Hyperkyphosis, the medical term. And his skin seemed the wrong colour, somehow... Not that she paid much attention. Her focus always returned to his eyes, and his nervous smile. This wasn't a trap. It couldn't be. She wouldn't let it be.

Don saw hands, long slim fingers, covered in short black hair. And he could see her eyes. He couldn't see the smile on her face, but he could see it in them, in their intense green. Looking her over was pointless, as she was dressed like a short black pillar. But he didn't need to. Her eyes were all he needed to witness her beauty. Green, shining... gorgeous. His smile was genuine, but also heavy, as his mind couldn't come up with anything to say that could seep through it. But she asked him a question, and he needed to reply, "Uh-uh-I... y'know, it's a good thing I'm not nervous. Otherwise these first few moments of acquaintance would be relentlessly awkward, wouldn't you say?"

"Well... I was terrified myself," Breech smiled, her heart still pounding, "I could barely make it through that door... I was scared you might not be here... but you are..." she grinned, and tried lightening the mood, "I'm sorry I'm late. This is going to sound absolutely crazy, but while I was on my way here, some idiot threw a Christmas tree out of a seventh floor window, and it almost landed on me..." she brushed a few brown pine needles off the hijab, and continued to smile, "I mean, seriously... who throws Christmas trees out of windows in the middle of spring? You'd think they'd do it right after Christmas!"

His eyes shifted, one grew larger than the other for just a moment. Her story had apparently bewildered him, and his face returned to a goofy, held-back smile that would more than likely be a grin should he let it out, "A Christmas tree? In the middle of Spring?! That... that's hilariously vexing. My brother would come up with some kind of a pun right now, I'm sure, but all I can think of is 'timber'." Okay, awkwardness gone. His heart's still beating faster than normal, but a joke between friends was always the key...

"I'm so glad to see you, Donny," Breech said, wanting to leap forward and just hug him and hold him forever, but holding herself back, "And I just want to say, that I can see you have certain deformities, even under the cloaking... and I don't mind a bit. Not one bit. Not even the slightest, the tiniest... I couldn't... I'm just so... happy..." Plus they're nothing to mine, she thought. But she wasn't lying. She really was happy, "You... I think... I mean, I hardly know you, but something tells me you're the man I was hoping you'd be."

Donatello smiled his usual, accepting smile, and nodded his head, "Mmmm." was his reply, "I feel the same about you, Breech. Your eyes... are lovely." Planting his weapon on its end, he made a daring move, and relieved it of one hand's grip, so that he could reach out, and place a very soft, very careful palm on the side of her cloaked face, "You're already even prettier than I imagined..."

Breech closed her eyes for a moment at the touch, before she raised a shaking hand and reached out, "I... think that would change if I wasn't wearing this," she said, gesturing at the black gown, "But... it would be stupid to say I didn't care about how you looked and still complain about my own appearance..." she rested her hand on his shoulder, "I know you're good. It sounds stupid, after all my bitching about good and evil and stuff but I just look at you and I know you're a good person..."

His smile deepened. "I guess it's just my flavour..." This was what he needed. What he came all the way up here, and waited all his life to experience. Happiness. Compatibility. Friendship. He could leave his hand right where it was, and not say anything else for the rest of the night, and be a hundred percent satisfied with what he had. Though, he had to admit, bald, green men were what artists depicted Martians to look like, and he agreed with every statement she made. Removing his hat would be terrifying, especially now. So, as much as he would love to prove her wrong, he knew he had no right...

I wish I could see your face. But if I say that's what I want, you'll want me to show mine too... Perhaps for now this is enough. For now, it has to be enough... "You came all this way, to help me," she said finally, "I still don't know if you can. But I want you to be able to. And somehow I'd rather you were able to than anybody else in the world."

"Then let me try..." His thumb stroked her cheek through the masking black fabric, "Come," He let his hand drop from her face, and took light hold of her left arm. When he turned, she saw the extremity of his 'hump', and how it formed a perfect oval. He made for the edge, where he leant his bo and both arms on its wall, "Tell me everything... I promise I won't turn away."

"Everything..." Breech took a breath. She looked around. She wasn't so very sure she could escape from him if things went nasty. Oh, the building wasn't a problem. But he didn't look like he was easy to escape from. And the shape of his back puzzled her. It seemed wrong, even for Hyperkyphosis, "As you know, my foster parents are criminals. They... they deal drugs. I've killed people. I don't get out much..." she swallowed, "I wasn't Fostered. I was found. They took me in. They had... friends, friends who taught me how to fight... how to kill. The fighting... I can do that. The killing I can do too. The 'freak' shit, I can even take that. But... the family... it doesn't feel... it's... what they're doing... I can't... because... They're doing to other people what they did to me."

Don took a good look at the city before him. The city that both raised and betrayed him. The city that damned, yet protected him. The place he called home, though he was unwelcome among it. He listened to her words intently, and from the side, she could see his face was stern, but still unimposing. Also, he had no nose, just two barely-visible holes for nostrils. He wore purple over his eyes. "Is that all?"

He has no nose. How does he smell? He smells like you should shut the fuck up. Breech couldn't help it. The oldest joke in the book was forming in her head, NOW? "All?" Breech's eyes blazed suddenly, and words burst out, "Apart from the fact that I'm a hideous freak, my Fosters treat me like I'm some sort of killing machine, they deal drugs, kill people, and are working for people who are organising some sort of army, yes, that IS all, and I'd say it was a pretty big all. And it's not an 'all' I want to be a part of anymore and I don't know who to turn to if I don't want my throat ripped out!"

Don cleared his throat, and stared blankly in silence for just a moment longer. Then he turned to her, took a deep breath, and gave her his most light-hearted of smiles, "Well then. Helping you shouldn't be much of a problem at all. Scientifically and logically, all we need to do is remove you from your current situation and place you in a safer, less violent one. Emotionally, on the other hand, all you need is love and acceptance." He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "And after that, all you have to do is atone for your sins, by using the skills that were bestowed upon you for valour, for honour, for protection of those who can't protect themselves. For 'good'. This will ease your guilt, and bring you peace of heart. And as for the 'freak' part, I believe I may be able to relate to you in that aspect, too..."

"It's not that simple," she said as calmly as she could, "It's not just a matter of finding somebody open-minded enough to take me in. It's not even a matter of hiding from my old Fosters. I want you to understand more than anything... it's not just... I'm not... I'm not..." she found a new sentence, "Whoever helped me would be in danger themselves. Even if they could even look at me without screaming."

At this, his eyes became stern, "I never said it wouldn't take effort, Breech. And I never said it wouldn't be dangerous. The Drug Dealing business always is. But whatever the case may be, your situation won't get any better unless you're willing to take these risks." He sighed, and lifted his hand off her shoulder. "My father's always told me that complex conflicts tend to come with logical solutions, but none come without some type of struggle. It's how you handle these struggles that determines, in the end, the full effect of the solution. In other words, it's not whether we should act that is the problem. It's how we act that is important." His smile returned, and he turned his head to peer over the city again...

Breech found an urge to just rip her veil off and scream something at him but then something stopped her. Not just his calm, soothing voice... but some inner instinct, telling her there was something she was missing. Stupid, stupid... so wrapped up in her own problems again that she was blinded to those of others, "You didn't come all the way here just to listen to the self-pitying bitching of a murdering freak," she said finally, "Why did you come here?"

"Me?" He had to think about this for a moment, before he could give her the correct answer. "I believe I'm here because we were fated to meet. Personally, I came here to meet a friend. I came here in hopes that maybe, just maybe, aside from all logic, I could find the one thing in my life that I feel I'm cursed to never feel. The love of a woman... But above all of that, I came here because I felt there was a friend in need. And there was no way I could turn my she - er, my back, on a friend." Stupid stupid STUPID! How could I let that slip?! “I came here to meet you, Breech. And, hopefully, so that I could find some form of happiness in you, and even more so, that I could provide you with the same..."

"And you were lonely," Breech completed, "And you felt like there was nobody like you, anywhere in the whole world."

"How did you-"

"Because I felt exactly the same," Breech looked down, and then looked back up and took a shaky step forward, moving to stand beside him, "Donny?"

"Yes?"

Can I see your face?

"...Thank you,” she murmured.

He couldn't help but grin. Maybe he WAS related to Raph, after all. "No need to thank me yet, Breech. I have a feeling we're going to have to work really hard to get you out of your situation. But always remember, no matter what, that I'll be by your side the whole way. Only then, when you're free, will I deserve your thanks."

"No. You've already done more for me than anybody else ever has," she replied, looking at him sideways. And suddenly she couldn't bear it anymore. She just turned and hugged him tightly.

He, too, was engulfed in the moment, and he felt he'd done something right, even though he'd done nothing at all. He turned into her hug, and returned it, his arms nearly engulfing her entire upper body. Though he hugged lightly, the embrace was intense. Under the hijab, Breech’s body was slender, and yet he could feel well-toned muscle too, like the body of an Olympic gymnast, "Say, Breech?"

Breech was still hugging him, her head on his shoulder, too overcome by the moment to notice anything other than the hard muscle and gentle embrace of the man holding her so carefully and yet so protectively, "Yes, Don?" she whispered.

He held her close, his head beside her, lips upon her own shoulder. "Thank you..." She heard him sniff, and might have thought he was crying. Though he really felt he could, at this moment, to have someone hold him so lovingly...

She didn't complain. She felt like she could cry too, just from the relief of being held. But as the emotion settled into place her hands finally noticed something. Not just his chest, but his back. Under the coat... the feel of it, the shape of it. His body was a structure, or so it must have felt to her. Something was built around it, something other than flesh. She couldn't let go though. Some dreadful suspicion was driving at her brain and she just couldn't let go of him...

Don's need for affection got the best of him, and his three-fingered hands ran over her back, rubbing it, not once, but twice. A third time, moments after the second. Caught in the moment, it took him much longer to realize there was something wrong with him than it would have taken him normally. His nostrils became moist, his eyes had a slight itch to them, and his lungs began to swell. Still, he cared not. Whatever it was, he could deal with it later...

He's not human. The thought pierced Breech's brain like a throwing knife. The trouble with coming to that joyful conclusion, was that her brain didn't stop working there. It continued working, punching the clues in. And she still couldn't let go of him.

A light vibration filled Don’s coat pocket. Why? Why now? Why did it have to happen now, to him? He, who'd never had the privilege of a moment like this... why now? Why did his Shell Cell have to vibrate NOW!? He winced, and held her tighter, the inevitable fact that he'd have to let go driving him to desperation. The vibration came and went, three times. The fourth time, he knew it was important. And so, his arms slid off of her. Now that they were apart the wind around him felt cruelly cold. He smiled apologetically, and reached into his pocket, "M-my brothers... one of them is calling... I have to take this call..."

"I understand," Breech said softly, her green eyes watching Don intensely and her brain absolutely refusing to stop working.

Oh boy, we're in deep shit now.

I know. But have you noticed we don't seem to care?

He hated doing this. He hated having to take his attention off of her. What in the world could fate have possibly chosen to be more important than this..? He reached into his pocket, and gripped his Shell Cell tighter than he normally did. Pulling it out, he turned away from his newest, most important friend, opened it, and placed it to his ear, "Don here." He didn't bother checking who it was. It didn't matter...

Breech watched him, standing quietly and wishing very hard that she was still holding him. For once in her life she'd started to feel like an actual person, not a thing. She wanted Donny's arms around her again. Holding her and keeping her safe from everything. The feel of those few brief moments had been nothing short of amazing and she wanted to feel it again.

"Yes... Oh, come on. Not now! ...Look, I'm in the middle of something. ...Yes, it's important! ...Yes, very. Okay. Soon. ...bye." When he hung up, he placed it back into his pocket, and turned to her. "So, dinner and a movie next time?" He smiled at her. There was something about her, something... so real. He wanted more of it...

"That would be great..." Breech paused, looking at the cell phone. It was shaped like a turtle's shell, "Nice phone," she said quietly. In her head, a slow clap began, Nicely said, Breech. And next time maybe you can paint the words ‘suspicious bitch’ on your forehead in big red letters.

"Thanks. It's my own design..." Stupid stupid STUPID! Nice going, Shell-Head... He shoved it back in his pocket and looked over at his bo, leaning against the wall beside them, "I think this first meeting went well... But where will you go now, Breech? Back to your foster parents who use and abuse you..?"

Breech looked away. It wasn’t a question; it was a statement, and she was ashamed of how true it was, “Yes...” she said in a small voice. Suddenly she almost flew into Donatello’s arms again. She was crying quietly, as she held onto his strong, heavy-set body, her face buried in his broad shoulders, “It shouldn’t have to be this way...” she whispered.

Donatello raised his arms to his chest, taken aback by her sudden emotional outburst. But he calmed his nerves, and engulfed her tenderly in his overbearing arms. "Breech... I'm going to help you. I promise. But in order for me to do so, I need you to promise me one thing..."

"Anything..." Breech whispered, holding on to him tightly, her chest pressed against his.

He closed his eyes, and pulled her body slightly upwards, so his lips could touch her shoulder once more, "I need you to promise me that no matter what you do, no matter what the situation, and no matter what the consequences may or may not be, that you won't kill anymore. Ever. You have to promise me, Breech, and swear an oath to yourself, that you will never take another sentient life. It's unacceptable, it's not what good people do." He almost cried himself, the thought that he'd have to let go of her tempting him to do so. The idea of being without her pressed a weight upon his heart...

There was a silence, deep and foreboding. For a long moment Don was afraid she would refuse him, tell him she couldn't do that. But then she looked up again, into his eyes, "I... I promise," Breech told him, and her voice grew stronger, and the tears ceased, and Donatello could see a determination, a fierce decision in her green eyes, "I promise, Don, that I will never kill anybody. Ever again..." and the determination somehow increased, "No matter what."

And he smiled at her in return, his hands running down her arms, concluding with his wide, green fingers taking hold of her long, black-haired ones. "And I promise, no matter what, I'll help you get out of your horrible situation. Starting tonight."

"How?" Breech asked, holding his hands and looking into his eyes.

"Give me a moment. I have to make a phone call." His head nodded, and his smile changed to an honest, reassuring one. "Nobody's ever going to force you to do anything you don't want, ever again." His hands slid off hers, slowly, and he reached for his Shell Cell.

"A phone call? Who are you calling?" Breech asked him, half curious, half suspicious.

"A really good friend. You'll have to crash at their place while I spill my guts to my father. When I tell him about your situation, he'll let you come and stay with my brothers and I, for sure. Or he'll at least let us help you." His smile remained, but he was serious. He really was about to help her. She could see it in his eyes...

"But... if I go to live with somebody else... they'll end up seeing me..." Breech pulled back, "They'll throw me out, they'll... they'll tell..." panic showed in her eyes, "And my owners will go crazy with rage about shit and they'll bring me back and do horrible, horrible things..."

He was about to make the call, but he lowered his hand, and shook his head. "Believe me when I say, Breech, there's nothing about you that April couldn't handle..."

"No, no, you don't understand, you don't, you don't..." Breech had backed up and now she had bumped against the wall of the edge of the roof. She looked over. If she needed to, she could get down 1800+ feet of building. Oh yes, she could. She grabbed the wall of the roof, ready to vault over and get away, "I don't know your friend, and you don't understand, I'm not..." she stopped again.

Don saw her actions. He saw the expression in her eyes. He saw her position, and he saw her intentions. He stepped back, as well, "Breech... I know you're afriad. But I have something I need to show you... I haven't been completely honest with you, and... Please, don't jump..."

Breech still gripped the edge of the wall tightly, watching Don as closely as ever. Her claws actually dug a little way into the concrete, "You..." she swallowed, "You're not human, are you?" It wasn't so much a question, as it was a statement.

He nodded his head slowly, then reached for his bo, and held it at arm's length. His free hand worked to unbutton his coat from top to bottom. With each button he released, the coat sagged more and more off his shoulders. His bandanna flapped in the wind, and the moonlight reflected off his body, "I've been trained proficiently in the art and lifestyle of Ninjitsu. And while sentient, I am not a human being by genetics." He tossed his staff in a straight line toward the sky, the coat falling off his shoulders just after he did. His body now exposed, he took hold of his hat, and tossed it aside as well, "I'm a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle." The staff returned to him, still in a straight line, and he caught it with perfect timing, though his white, gleaming eyes never once left hers, "And my name is Donatello."

"I knew I was in deep shit..." Breech bit her lip until the blood came, "You see... I haven't been very honest with you either..." her voice shook again, and she shifted, then pulled off the hijab, "I'm a mutant feline," she said, her thick black fur flat against her back with a blend of absolute terror and relief, "And my owners deal drugs... and fund the Foot Clan..."

~~~

Harley: So, I bet nobody was expecting THAT! *snickers* Yeah, I think you got it around the second chapter. Look at it this way; she’s just a cat. A perfectly regular mutant cat. At least she’s not a turtle. I don’t believe in female mutant turtles; that makes it too easy.

SonicFrank: Also, FINALLY! Reviews! We appreciate that, but we’d appreciate even more if you told us WHAT it is you liked.

Harley: Chapters go up weekly, and next chapter you learn more about Breech, plus they go to visit April and Casey. And of COURSE you’ll be reviewing more too. Oh, and the keen of eye will have noticed the addition of April/Casey to the summary. Well, yeah, there is some of that, though it's not focused on so much.
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The Long Walk