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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: Nothing much to report on this chapter. April and Casey feature again, and also you get a description of Breech. Some Mary Sue litmus tests claim that if you describe your character too much, it’s a high indication of a Mary Sue. Would people rather just say she was a black mutant cat and leave it at that? That sucks of laziness and bad writing.

SonicFrank: No reviews? Shame...

~~~

Chapter Four: Better And Better

The standoff froze time itself, as Don just looked at her, and she looked back. She was not human. Not human. He really should have looked at her green eyes, instead of gazing at their beauty. They were not even close to human. No human had pupils like that.

It was not excess body hair. It was fur. The fur on her head was a little above shoulder length, but it was still thick, black fur. It was also an unruly mess, but of the rebellious kind suggesting it would remain a mess even if one used two cans of hair spray and six bottles of hair gel on it.

Her ears sat on the top of her head, and were unmistakably feline. She had a tail, about three feet long. She had no nails. She had retractable claws. Her feet were digitigrades, making her look as if she tiptoed, and gave her a slightly springy gait.

She wore a dark blue sports bra and short shorts. A spiked collar encircled her neck. A camouflage style belt encircled her waist and there were two folding tessen in gun holsters, iron fans that could be used to slash, club, defend, or just keep you cool on a hot day. But she was, unmistakably, a cat. A mutant cat.

“Oh,” Don spoke eventually.

He stood just as still as she, his eyes gleaming in a piercing gaze. Did she just say The Foot? Did she just say she works for The Foot Clan? And is that a weapon on her, the Tessen of ancient Japanese feudal warfare? Tessenjutsu had been a dying art for centuries, how could she have learned it in New York? And more importantly, who taught her such a skill? These questions would have to wait until later. For now, he had to make a decision. The Foot Clan... this could very easily be a trap. But he couldn't turn his shell on her now. He couldn't. He already loved her...

Breech watched him, then found her voice, "You know, this doesn't make it any easier," she managed, her hands hovering near the tessen, still ready to flee eighteen-hundred feet vertically down, "But um... it's not a trap, ‘cus I know that's what you're thinking... If it was a trap I wouldn't have come alone... and I'd probably have killed you around about the time we first held each other..." He couldn't catch her. Not if she ran for it now. But if she waited, would he make her fight him? She couldn't beat him. She wasn't sure she could even bring herself to try.

Donatello spoke, "Those weren't my exact thoughts, but you were close. If this were a trap, you wouldn't have killed me when we held each other. If this were a trap, it'd still be in motion. You'd wait until I showed you my brothers' lair, and the Foot Clan would come and destroy our home. Again. But this changes nothing. I've made my promise." Lifting his bo with one arm, he thrust it diagonally onto his back into a holster, "I'll still be your friend, if you let me. And I'll still help you, if you let me. And..." his eyes softened, now. His stance didn't change, but something about the gleam of his mask changed, and they grew desperate for her acceptance, "...y-you're still beautiful. To me..."

"You're not going to kill me?" Breech asked, "You trust me? ‘Cus you know... it'd kinda be cheating... to make me promise not to kill again and then try to kill me." Well obviously she'd think the Ninja Turtle would kill her. But she wasn't going to break her promise.

"First of all," His hands made reasoning gestures as he spoke, "If it were up to me, I'd never have to fight again. The occasional friendly spar would be okay, but I'm not particularly interested in a battle in which the goal is only to cause pain on your opponent." He took a daring step forward, closer to her, and the moonlight accentuated him more, "And more importantly, I've never killed anyone in my entire life, and I swore an oath to never resort to such a horrible deed." He realized, then, that in order to get closer to her, in order to get her to trust his touch, he'd have to disarm himself. And so, he undid his belt, and slid his entire holster off his shell. The bo hit the roof's floor. Then he stepped forward once more, "I mean you no harm. You mean too much to me as it is..."

Breech watched the bo fall. Far away enough that he couldn't just snatch it up and... what the fuck was she thinking? He wasn't going to trick her! "Just for the record," she said, sliding both tessen out of their holsters slowly, and dropping them to the roof, "You are actually much more attractive than a human. To me, anyway. You're also more attractive than I imagined you'd be when I was told about you." Donatello could tell she was blushing. Her ears were turning a reddish-pink.

He blinked, "R-really?" If she thought anything would catch him off-guard, she'd probably have guessed her appearance would be it. But she'd have be wrong, "W-well, I..." His hand now behind his head, she could tell he was blushing, too. As much as his green, reptilian skin would let him. "Y-you're quite the testosterone-riser yourself. If only I weren't allergic to your less sapient brethren..."

Breech's face fell, Well this day just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it? "You're allergic to me?" she asked him, downcast.

He shook his head, slightly. "Well, I've always been allergic to felines. It's not your fault, it's the microscopic cells given off by your fur that triggers my allergic tendencies. This explains why I started feeling stuffy during our hug." He felt no need to be cautious anymore, and so he walked up to her. Standing beside her, he leant on the cement wall. "However, my reaction is usually a whole lot worse. So I guess I'm not nearly as allergic to you as I would be, say, a Himalayan. Besides, you're fascinating... Your existence alone, it's... it's such a God-send that you're here, Breech. I thought I was alone in this world, with just my brothers and father to keep me company. But here you are..."

“Yes, here I am,” Breech tugged at the spiked collar awkwardly, but she was relaxing again. Her green eyes scanned the skyline of the city unblinkingly, “I knew that the urban legend about mutant turtles wasn’t really an urban legend... I knew they existed... I just never thought they’d be anything like you,” she looked sideways at Donatello, then smiled, “My real name is Bridget Loranski. But most of the time, my owners call me Breech Loader,” she turned to look into Don's eyes, "...And I trust you."

He nodded his head, "Then I really need to make this call..." He didn't remove his hand, choosing to keep it on her instead. Perhaps as a comforting gesture. In fact, when April's phone began ringing, he pulled his newest friend in toward his shell, and held her in a single-armed embrace, "Come on, April... Pick up the phone..."

~~~

"Yo, April! Duh phone's ringin'!" Somehow, Ms. O'Neil managed to convince Casey Jones, vigilante extraordinaire, to wash her dishes for her. When the phone rang two more times, he swung around, hands covered in wet soap, and yelled. "APRIL!!! Duh phone's ringin'!" A crash of glass filled the apartment once more, "Oops..." Soap on his hands. Right...

"I can hear it, Casey," April was coming into the living room, "And I can also hear the abuse you're dealing to the glassware!" she added, picking up the cell-phone. It was Donatello's cell again. She hoped whatever he was doing hadn't gotten him into any trouble. She'd never forgive herself for covering for him if that was the case, "Hey there, Donny," she told the phone, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he replied, his hand now stroking his friend's back, as if protecting her from her own fear, "But I have another favour to ask. Bigger than any favour I've asked before. It's... urgent."

~~~

Breech looked over at the apartment block, "This is where your friend lives?" she asked Donatello as she pulled the hijab back on, "Because this might sound crazy, but this is the place where a Christmas tree almost landed on me."

They were perched on a roof, opposite the apartment building in question. Donatello was crouched beside her, "This is where the tree fell? Hmm. Somebody must have decided it'd be less complicated to toss it out of the window, rather than carry it all the way down the stairs. Or use the elevator." He could see April's T.V. from this angle, and judging by what was playing, she must have had company. Casey Jones company, "Besides, it never had a chance at landing on you. I've never seen anyone move as stealthily as you." He was in no hurry, it seemed, because his smile was peaceful, and he enjoyed her company in person as much as he had online.

"You know," Breech paused for a moment, tugging at the collar again, "My owners are going to be really, really pissed when they get back from their meeting and I'm not there..." She shuddered, her entire body tensing up at a particularly horrible memory, "Which, judging by the last time I saw a clock, should be in less than ten minutes."

Don put a single finger to his lips, and reached for her collar with both hands. He soon found its buckle, which he realized was sewn to the leather material of the collar. She couldn't take it off, "One sec," Sliding a finger into his brown, leather belt, he extracted a shruiken, and used it to slice the collar off without a second of delay, "You're nobody's pet anymore, Breech. Nobody owns you. You're free to make your own choices, and choose your own destiny. Collars are generally symbols; the dominant place them over the submissive in order for those around them to tell which is which." He looked over at April's apartment building again. He had a lot of explaining to do...

Under the collar, there was a line around Breech’s neck, rubbed raw of fur. It had obviously been there for years. Probably all her life, "Give me that," she took it back from Don. He watched as she parted the hijab and tied the collar around her belt, "Just a little reminder to myself," she said, her face hardening for a moment. Nobody was going to own her, ever again.

He watched her do this, and nodded sternly, returning to a soft smile right after. But when he found himself staring at her, awed and inspired by the unique beauty that she held, he shook his head with a glowing blush, "W-why didn't you mention you were such an attractive young feline mutant of a killer ninja? I'd have at least worn a tie..."

"You mean over the Internet?" Breech smiled again, "Well, you didn't exactly mention this," she poked his plastron lightly, "I was kinda worried you might be a cop. Or worse, somebody from the Foot Clan setting up one of their 'let's see how loyal your bullshit excuse for a family really is' traps."

"Nope, sorry to disappoint. I'm just your average turtle in a trench coat." Something about her personality, her smile, her willingness to be his friend, made him feel that he was special to her. The way she hugged him, touched him, looked into him with all the emotion she had... He meant something to her. And the thought of this filled him with a warm excitement. "Are you ready to meet my friend, and see your new home, Breech? We could stay up here just a little longer, if you feel you need more assurance of some sort..."

"I think... I think I'm about as ready as I'm ever gonna be," Breech said, taking a deep breath, "But if your friend April will accept your mutation, I guess she'll accept mine too. She might still have a problem with the Foot thing, of course."

He had no comment to make about this. Breech was right. It was the Foot Clan who set April's father's old antique shop ablaze, and it was them who mercilessly stole such emotionally valuable items away from her. But then again, it was also the Foot Clan who destroyed his first home, and stole his father away from him. If anybody would understand, it'd be April. "Come on, then. Let's go." Rolling over the ledge, he grabbed hold of a telephone pole as he fell, which he used to slide himself onto the sidewalk below.

Breech stepped off the roof, and landed seventy feet down on her feet, in a crouch, without such a need for the telephone pole. She straightened up again, and smiled at Don, "What can I say? I love being a feline..."

Don shook his head with a grin. His mind absorbed information as he watched her jump, landing perfectly with three points of contact on the sidewalk, "I really love you being a feline, too," Was this what flirting was? He'd seen it all the time on T.V., but he never imagined it felt so... ridiculous... "I have a feeling one of my brothers in particular is going to like you very much."

"I'd like that, too," Breech said, pulling her veil over her face so that she once again looked like a five foot black pillar, "I want your family to accept me as much as you do."

"They will. It'll just take time. We can start with April, though. She's the closest family we have, besides each other," he explained while making his way across the street. Hardly anyone was outside at this hour. New York was a dangerous place at night, and that reputation typically made the streets very quiet during the darker hours.

Breech followed him closely, the only sound that of cloth shifting with her movements, her bare feet silent against the pavement as they reached the apartment block, and headed up the stairs.

~~~

"Yo, April. What's duh big deal, anyway? Why do ya have to rearrange duh whole house, just ‘cus someone's comin' tuh visit? It's your home, not dere's!" He stood towering over her as she hurried to make the apartment seem more 'presentable'.

"Donatello’s on his way," April told him, "And he's bringing a friend he met tonight. So do NOT go near any more glassware. I don't want anybody to get cut, okay?" She was trying to clear up the last of the broken glass and china, "And this is what people DO when they have guests. They try to make the place look presentable."

He didn't get it. Women had the most unnecessary of guidelines. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned on a handy wall that stood behind him. "Ya never make dis cook's nest nice and presentable fuh me. And I'm yuh main squeeze! All I evuh get's moah like a table to duh head, and dat's no present." When Don knocked on the door, he peered at it. "He's heah. Yuh want me tuh spit-shine duh ceilin', too?"

"Just answer the damn door, Casey," April sighed, hoping she'd picked up all the glass. Once Mikey had cut his foot on some broken glass in her last apartment, and she didn't want a repeat occurrence, ever.

His arms were still crossed, and he raised an eyebrow when she gave him the order. This woman's crazy! Telling Casey Jones what to do! ...Then again, she's got a nice 'back door' herself, so I'll let it go. For now. When he stood before the door, he called, "Who?"

"It's Don."

The door swung open, "Donny!!! - um." Blinking twice, he stared down at Breech, "Who's yuh religious friend?"

"Who in the hell is that?!" Breech asked sharply, staring at the six and a half foot man in the doorway, "Donny, you told me we were meeting a friend called April! And unless this guy had some incredibly cruel parents..." Donatello saw her claws slide out. Just as his feet were shaped and acted as the ninja's Tabi boots, Breech's claws functioned perfectly as a Neko-te. Shell, Neko-te even meant Cat's Claws.

Casey took a step back, startled by her sudden defensive stature, the unusual purr in her voice, and most importantly, the claws! "Whoa! Take it easy there, Pink Panther!"

Donatello's arm shot up sideways, the elbow and forearm a blockade against her chest. "Calm down! He's okay! Just another friend! Casey, where's April?"

"I'm right here, Don," April showed up and pushed Casey aside. She looked at the short woman wearing the religious garment... that covered her entire body and face, head to foot, "Who's your friend?" she asked him.

Casey wasn't pleased with his sudden removal from the spotlight, but the last time he caused a scene like this with April while they had company, he was banned to the fire escape, and wasn't let back into the apartment for two good weeks, "Sure. Just push duh big pretty man aside. He don't need no respect," he mumbled under his breath as he rubbed his shoulder, where his host had pushed him.

"Hey, I recognise you," the woman spoke, one eyebrow raising, and the assertive, decisive tone she used pretty much confirmed to April that there was no way there was an Islamic woman under all that black, "You're that news reporter... April O'Neil! The one who's always talking about the urban myth of the turtles and the Foot Clan and so clearly knows a hell of a lot more than she's letting on..." she turned to Don, "You didn't tell me your friend was this April, Don," she said, although her claws had retracted and she had relaxed again, "Though I should have guessed..."

"Hm?" Don had a quizzical look on his face. He removed his hat, and scratched at the top of his dome for a moment. His skin appeared differently in the well-lit hallways than under the moon-lit sky. "Well, sometimes I tend to forget that she's a celebrity... April, we should step inside."

"Sheesh. Females ah pushy..." Casey crossed his large, bulky arms over his broad chest, and mumbled like a child.

"Sure, come on in," April smiled, wanting to put this new friend of Don's at her ease, and walking back into the apartment. She closed the door once they were inside and turned back, "So, this is who you snuck out to see, huh?" she asked him, "So... who are you?” she asked the young woman.

"Everybody calls me Breech... Breech Loader," Breech answered, "And... I met Donatello tonight. He... understood..." She looked at April. The woman had kinder eyes than on the television screen. She was Donny's friend, and she had accepted him. Breech looked over her shoulder at Casey. He was another friend of Don's. And if he was April's friend, she'd need his trust sooner or later too. She looked at the broken window. Oh well. Good escape route, if things went balls up, and they still could... "He understood... about this." She reached up and pulled off the veil of the hijab, exposing her face.

Casey's reaction was everything BUT what Breech expected. He whistled softly, "Whoa, Don! I'm not sure foxy's duh right word here, but yuh nabbed yuhself a-" But he was met with Don's strong, imposing gaze. The one that told him to shut up. Usually, he didn't. This time, he did.

April looked surprised, but she didn't look shocked or horrified, the way Breech had half been expecting, "And I understand too," she said, taking Breech's hand, "Don't worry, Breech. You have absolutely nothing to fear here."

Breech visibly sagged in relief, and pulled the hajib right off, showing the sports bra and short shorts she was wearing, slumping into a chair she had conveniently walked to upon her entrance, "Oh thank God..." she said, "It's finally over..." she hesitated, remembering about the Foot Clan thing and sitting up again, "Well, partly."

Donatello raised his hands in front of his chest, in an explanatory motion, "The situation is actually more complicated than even this makes it, April. Y'see..."

"Don's got 'imself a girlfriend, and he needs tuh borrow yuh bedroom." Casey's arms were crossed again, and the grin on his face challenged his friend to hit back. Physically, verbally, or both.

Humiliation was a given. But then again, this was Casey, and it'd be naive not to expect a comment of the sort out of him. So Don retaliated, "It'd be a fresh pick. You're here every day, and that bedroom's yet to be tainted. Isn't that right, Mr. Jones?" Donatello's soft smile, and equally soft voice shone lightly upon his audience.

Breech had looked about to explode at Casey's first comment, but Don's retaliation resulted in a wide smirk crossing her face. She spoke up again, "Anyway, even if that was the case right now, thanks to Don's allergies we'd need to borrow a strong dose of Clitarin too," she grinned, showing sharp teeth.

April smiled at them both. Like herself, Breech seemed fully equipped with the smart mouth and quick wit needed to handle Casey's childishness, "Well, that wouldn't be a big deal either," she said, "But... Don, you were saying it was somehow more complicated than this?"

And here's where even the brilliant Donatello couldn't think of anything logical to say. "I-I... need to make a phone call. O-On the balcony! Bye!" Ninja-vanish...

April smiled briefly, but then looked concerned again, "So, would you like to tell me what makes this complicated?" she asked, her calming gaze turning to the cat-girl.

"Well... I'd rather do it when Don's in the room," Breech scratched at the raw furless line on her neck awkwardly. Right now, Don was practically transparent about how he felt. He liked her. Really, really liked her. If not more.

"What for?" Casey pried, but he didn't seem imposing in tone whatsoever. Walking toward the table, he took a seat next to April, across from Breech, "He brought yuh here cuz' he trusts us. Ain't nuttin' you can say wit' Donny heah that yuh can't say wit'out 'im. Right, April?" He almost expected a good slap to the head, but he didn't care.

The red-headed woman in question seemed about to slap him over the head, but at the end of his statement, she nodded her head with an agreeing smile.

Breech squirmed, "Well, Don kinda said, what with the stuff about being a Ninja Turtle and all..." and now, instead of a mature young woman, she looked like an embarrassed child about to own up to stealing a cookie, "That you'd have problems with the Foot Clan. And I'm kinda fleeing from what you might call..." she paused for the right words, growing bold again, "A fucktastic shitfest of a family that's funding the Foot Clan by selling drugs on the street."

Somehow, April suddenly looked even more shocked than she had when Breech had pulled off her veil. She inhaled sharply, dropping the mutant feline's hand. Casey was the next one to speak. He took a moment, and cracked his knuckles. "I was wrong. You needed Donny fuh dat one."

Breech stood up, sliding easily into a defensive stance, her eyes on Casey, "Watch it, Brooklyn Boy," she said, her voice a low warning, "This is a nice apartment. I wouldn't want anything to get broken in it."

As if Casey himself weren't a contradiction to that sentence, he stood up immediately, his glare twice as hard as hers. His defensive nature made him do two things simultaneously - placing one hand on April's chest to hold her behind him, the other being a fist that slams onto the table. " 'ey, you challengin' me in my own girl's apartment!? You best be sittin' down before I present yuh wit' dis table over yuh furry little head! How's dat fuh presentable!?"

"Bring it-"

"Children, please," April stood up and moved between them. After all, Casey had made the first aggressive move, "Let's play nice, okay? I'm sure Donny wouldn't have brought Breech here if she didn't have a perfectly reasonable and logical explanation for all this," she looked at Breech, and her eyes weren't angry, but she definitely wanted a good explanation.

Breech hissed in anger, but continued, "For the intellectually challenged among us, I'll make this as simple as possible. My 'family' are drug dealers who fund the Foot Clan and up until tonight they used me as an animal to kill anybody who got in their way..."

"So... you used to work for the Foot Clan?" April still looked somewhat shocked.

Breech snorted, "The word 'work' implies I got paid," she untied the collar from around her belt and laid it on the table, "I think a more accurate term would be, 'enslaved'."

Casey Jones was one hell of a character. His childlike simplicity actually made him vexing, because he suddenly slammed his fist on the table once more, and his body was trembling with rage, "Cowards! Enslavin' a woman against ‘er will! Stories like dis burn me up, man!" ...he was on her side, now. Just like that, "If I could jus’ have five minutes alone wit dem ovuh-dressed street punks. Just five minutes!"

Donatello appeared behind Breech, "Oh. So you told them."

"And they aren't the Foot Clan, for clarification," Breech told April, whose eyes had softened slightly, "Their activities fund them. There's a difference..." she looked down, "Although a Foot ninja known as Master Tatsu trained me..." she continued again quickly, "But I never became a member because the very idea of a hideous freak being a Foot Ninja would have been a stain on their 'honour'." She spat on the floor with the word, "Anyway, killing people wasn't that hard. What got harder and harder, with every passing day, was getting out of bed in the morning, knowing I was helping people who were destroying kids’ minds with drugs, and turning other kids – kids who actually had a chance for a normal life - into ruthless animals, like the thing I'd become..."

Donatello placed a light hand on her shoulder, still behind her. "It's going to end, Breech. We'll stop them..." Casey was just getting angrier as her story went on, eventually resorting to grabbing at his pant leg and tearing it off, so he had something to rip at.

April took Breech's hand again gently. This was a woman on the run from an abusive family. It didn't matter what she looked like, or who that family was, or what they'd do if they found her there in her apartment. April knew instinctively that she had to help her. She waited for Breech to finish her story.

"I don't think I need to go into detail about how I was treated," Breech was trembling slightly. Don's hand on her shoulder was more comforting than he could ever know, "I think Casey is angry enough already. But a few months ago my ‘family’,” she spat the word, “allowed me access to the Internet, and I met Donatello. At first he was just somebody to talk to, and get all the hate and pain off my chest. But it became something more... And tonight we met and found out about the... freak... thing. And here I am."

"Hey," Don retorted with a gentle smile, which was followed up with an arm encircling her midsection. "I prefer the term 'Mutant', like in the comic books.' Using his free hand to ruffle the fur on the top of her head, he pulled her in close, and hugged her, though the chair's wooden backrest was in his way, "Why don't we settle on 'evolutionists' instead?"

Casey ripped the last of the pantleg, "How can y'all just sit around heah and not get steamed?! Listen, Cat," he slammed both hands on the table, "Let's you an' me take a little joyride on my motorcycle ovuh to yuh old home." He reached under the table, and pulled out his back-up bat that he'd hidden there unbeknownst to April. "I'd like tuh take a tour."

Breech was actually about to stand up and agree, when she paused, remembering her promise to Don, and his hand on her shoulder, "Love to, Casey. But I kinda promised Don I wouldn't kill anybody ever again, and I don't think I could actually stop short of that if I ever got the chance. Maybe some other time... And it's Breech, not Cat. 'Cat' is what they called me. That, and 'freak'..."

April nodded, "Breech, you're safe now," she told the feline, "You can stay here for as long as you need to. You won't be hurt by those terrible people ever again. And you'll have a new family. A better one."

Don felt his nose getting to him again. It must be because he ruffled the fur on her head - the microscopic debris of her skin-cells must be agitating his allergies. He'd have to read all he could on allergenic conditions and how to prevent their symptoms, when he had the time. Still, he hugged her for one more moment. "See? Didn't I tell you she was great?"

Casey slumped into his chair, arms crossed in disappointment, "Humph. 'fraidy cat." he mumbled childishly.

"I'm sitting right here, Jones," Breech pointed out dryly, but she twisted in her chair, turning to Don to hug him back, smiling.

April smiled again at this, "You can stay here for as long as you need to, Breech," she repeated, "Admittedly you'll have to sleep on the sofa - I don't have another bed. But that's okay right?"

Breech glanced at the sofa, "Looks the hell of a lot more comfortable than my last mattress," she replied, before letting go of Don. Now that she knew of his allergy, she didn't want to hurt him by getting too close... although it was almost painful to let go of him.

Don complied by letting go of her himself, and taking a step back, "Actually, April, you might want to reconsider those sleeping arrangements." Turning his attention to the large man at the other end of the table, he reached behind his shell, and tossed a Hockey stick at him. He must have picked it up on his way back from the balcony, "I need a favour from you as well, Casey Jones."

Casey caught the stick skilfully with one hand. "A favuh from me? What's duh brief?" Whatever it was, he'd need his favourite weapon for it.

"Guard duty. All night, until tomorrow when I return."

"Guard duty?" Breech spoke up, looking offended, "Hey, I don't need protecting! Not any more, anyway," she muttered to one side, "I can use these well enough to knock out any of the creeps if they actually do manage to track me here," she snapped open a fan.

Casey was about to challenge her comment, when Don interrupted. "That's exactly the problem. When I get back to the lair, I'm going to have to explain all of this to Master Splinter and Leonardo. I trust you with all my heart, Breech, you can bet my shell on it. But they don't know you the way I do, they don't share the same bond. If I tell them that I left an ex-assassin who' s been linked with the Foot Clan all her life - who also happens to be a practitioner of the deadly art of Tessenjutsu - here, alone with April, they're going to deem me incalculably naive. They'll probably all come down here as a group, and that would make things much more complicated than they have to be."

"Y'know, dat actually makes sense... Believe me. I know doze guys. Especially duh red one. He'd be here quick, and wit’ a tempuh." Casey agreed with a grin.

"On the other hand, I'm not so trusting that the Foot Clan hasn't been tailing you this entire time, and are just waiting for me to leave, or for you and April to fall asleep. Which you will, because you need your rest, Breech, and I'd really like it if you got some shut-eye." He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. It was becoming familiar now, but still just as comforting. "It's been a long three hours. And, it's not that I doubt your abilities, but... I wouldn't feel right leaving here without any kind of protection. I feel the inner responsibility to protect you now. I know you don't need it, but... I can't help it. It's how I feel about everyone I care for. Right April?"

"Yeah," April nodded, "You sure picked the right turtle to meet up with, Breech. I'd say Don is the most sensitive one of the bunch." In her mind's eye she could already see Raphael kicking the door open, "Oh, I sure hope you're as good at explaining Breech to Splinter as Breech was at explaining the Foot to Casey, Donny."

"Oh boy. So do I, April. I'm still working on that game plan..." the turtle admitted.

Breech rubbed her forehead, "Okay, so now the hockey jock is protecting me from your brothers, while you protect me from my 'family's' self-righteous rage. Who the hell is going to protect my family from me?" she asked, tying the remains of the collar around her belt again.

Don was about to answer, but was interrupted by a yelling body guard.

“Hey! Aren't we forgettin' somethin’ heah?!” Casey complained, “Who says I volunteered tuh protect anybody?!" He asked with a shouldered Hockey stick.

"Because I'm asking you to, Casey,” Don said patiently, “As a friend. And because I trust you."

"Slag it. What am I supposed tuh be doin' all night? April ain't even got a DVD playuh!"

"You could try practicing the fine art of conversation," April smirked, "And maybe even tact."

" 'ey! I'm seriuhs heah! What am I gunnuh do fuh all dem hours?!"

Donatello had an almost gleeful expression on his face. Now was a perfect example of times when having a brain was very convenient, "I considered your boredom before I asked. So I took a few liberties while I was out on the balcony. I noticed some of April's neighbours have Satellite TV. I did a little rewiring to make channel-surfing possible through April's own flat-screen television set. It's illegal, but it's only for one night."

"Don't you worry about getting bored, Casey," Breech shrugged, "I don't sleep well. Tonight will probably be more interesting for you than you think."

April looked at the young feline sadly, "You get nightmares, huh?"

"Every time I close my eyes," Breech replied.

Casey's eyes lit up, "Son of a gun! Count me in! Pay per View, all night Baby! Yeah!" His hockey stick was a hazard to the ceiling at that moment.

Donatello's expression also went from a 'Poking Casey Jones' tone, to sympathetic. He'd never felt so important in his life. He really was Breech’s best hope... "Breech... I'm going to have to return to my home soon. I have a lot of explaining to do to my family..."

Breech nodded, "They'll probably be wondering where you are. You should head back now. I'll be here. It's not like there's anywhere else for me to go..."

"Look, if there's anything you need. Anything! I'm just a phone call and a few tunnels away." He had to think about his next words. He'd never been in a situation like this before. Ever, "...what you're doing is very brave. And I wanna thank you... For making me feel important. Like a hero." He gave her a weary smile, a cheesy grin that'd be more expected of his younger brother. He suddenly felt an itch on the top of his shell, though that was impossible.

"Donny, you are a hero," Breech said without thinking, "This is what heroes do. They protect... the people... who can't protect themselves," her voice grew a little quieter at that admission. She didn't like admitting that she hadn't been able to protect herself when she'd been the best fighter her owners had. She spoke up again, "And don't ever let anybody tell you otherwise."

Don had a look in his eyes that made his purple mask wrinkle. There was a certain spark of meaning that told them he had just been touched, "T-thanks, Breech... That meant more than you'll ever know." He placed a hand on her cheek, like he did up on the Chrysler Building's rooftop. Only this time, her veil wasn't hiding her face, "I have to go..."

~~~

Harley: Sports bras are not particularly revealing. They are, however, extremely supportive when leaping from rooftop to rooftop. Breech doesn’t wear much, it’s true. But the turtles wear even less. And she is covered in fur.
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The Long Walk