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Leap of Faith, Part Two: Into the Light	By : laloga13 Category: Comics > Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Views: 1233 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all other recognizable characters are property of Mirage Studios and not me, sadly. I'm just playing with them for a while, and am not making any money off of this story.

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Chapter Nine

Miranda woke up to the worst headache she'd ever had, and as someone who spent a considerable portion of her time in front of blaring speakers, that was saying something. She was still on the same bed, in the same room, but everything seemed....different. But she couldn't put her finger on it: some more furniture had been added, nothing fancy, just a nightstand and lamp, and some nicer curtains had replaced the former ones. The bed was made as well, and she realized with a start that she was dressed in a large t-shirt-and nothing else. But something else was....amiss. She tried without success to remember what had happened after they drank the wine, and groaned. I am such an idiot.

She sat up, slowly, and surveyed the room again. There was an unopened bottle of ibuprofen on the nightstand, as well as a fresh bottle of water; she could tell because condensation still clung to its sides. Ignoring the pills, she cracked the seal on the water, and began to gulp it down. She drank about half, then sat still, feeling the cool liquid trickle down her throat into her stomach. Her eyes fell on her clothes, clean and neatly folded on the armchair, along with a folded slip of paper. She reached for her shirt, and sniffed it warily. These clothes were filthy when I wore them last, she thought. I wonder how long I was out? She unfolded the paper and read the note inside:

Miranda,

When you're ready to talk, give me a ring.

John

She glanced around the room, but saw no evidence of a phone of any kind. She sat on the bed, still feeling a bit woozy, and now doubly confused with the strange note. Only one way to find out, I guess....She managed to get dressed, albeit slowly, putting her hooded sweater on last. As she did so, a small, unfamiliar cell phone fell the floor. After she retrieved it and scanned through the menu for a moment, she discovered that only a single number had been programmed into the memory. She hit “send” and waited.

“Good morning, Miranda. I trust you slept well?” Bishop's voice greeted her from the other end, and she narrowed her eyes.

“Fine, thanks. So tell me, John, where is the john in this place?”

“Third door on the left. Come to my office when you're done, I have something to show you.”

He hung up before she could press for more details, so instead she slipped the phone back in her pocket, and looked at the door. She felt mildly foolish, having never even managed to see if it had been truly locked. All this time, I could have left whenever I wanted. The knob turned easily, and she stepped out into a long, sterile hallway, illuminated by the same soft lamps that were in “her” room. There was a faint humming sound, as if machinery was working somewhere in the building, and the floor was smooth and polished. There was a line of metal doors on each side of the hallway, about fifteen feet apart from each other, but the first two she tried were locked. The third opened up into a bathroom, incongruously containing rose-colored tile and a claw footed tub along with a shower stall, plush towels and mats, and a myriad of bath products, all brand new.

Miranda ignored most of them, instead heading for the toilet. Afterwards, she made her way to the sink, and made use of only two of the products that had been left: a toothbrush and toothpaste. When she had finished, she looked up at her reflection and gasped. Her face was....not hers. Something had been done to her eyes; instead of her usual gray they were a light shade of plum. There was something else too, something that she could not explain any more than she could figure out what had been done to the room. It's me, she thought, dread clenching in her stomach. I'm different somehow. Her eyes narrowed as she remembered Bishop's words. Angrily, she pulled out the cell phone and hit the send key again.

“What the hell is going on here?” she growled, not even giving him a chance to acknowledge the call.

“If you'd come to my office, as I asked...” he started, but she cut him off.

“I'm tired of your games, Bishop. Why are my eyes a different color? What does Jesse really have to do with all this? Why are there frilly curtains in that room I was in?”

“I can tell that there's no reasoning with you when you're hysterical,” Bishop said, as though he was talking to a child. “I'm only going to say this once more: come to my office, and you can have all the answers that you want. Go to the end of the hallway, turn left, get in the elevator, and push the green button.”

He hung up. Miranda glared into the phone a moment before stepping out of the bathroom. She felt strange; though only a few minutes ago she'd been groggy, now she was energized, as though she could run a marathon or something. She narrowed her eyes, and took an experimental stride down the hall. It seemed as though she was at the other end of the long hallway in an instant, having crossed the distance in a few steps. Damn. That can't be good. She found the elevator, and the green button; moments later the doors opened onto the biggest office she'd ever seen.

The room was dominated by a huge window that overlooked the city. She could see the orange tint in the sky, and was disturbed to note that she had no idea if the sun was rising or setting, as well as how high up they must have been to have such a view. One wall was covered in shelves of books; the other held an impressive array of computer screens and other bits of technology that she was uninterested in. There was a curved, highly-polished desk in the very center of the great window, and it was here that John Bishop sat, engrossed in something on his personal computer. He looked up as she entered, and rose to greet her.

“Glad to see that you made it here in one piece. Coffee?” He gestured to a pot on a small console in the far wall.

Miranda shook her head and crossed her arms. “What the fuck is going on?” She made an effort to control the angry tone in her voice, trying to keep a clear head. He sipped his own cup as he stood and strolled over to her. Before she could snatch herself away, he had taken her arm in a firm grasp, and lead her to the window. She had not counted on his strength; her arm was beginning to ache as he held her at the glass, setting his cup down on the desk with a clatter.

“Look out there, Miranda, and tell me what you see.”

She ignored his question. “What did you do to me?”

He frowned slightly, and suddenly his other arm was grasping her, pushing her roughly against the glass, and he was standing directly behind her. “I'm getting there. Now tell me what you see.”

The glass was hard and cold against her body, and she shut her eyes before the very sight of the city below. Her head was already starting to spin, and all of her resolve fell away as fear broiled up inside her throat.

“Well?” He pressed her harder, and she thought that she could hear the glass beginning to crack.

“Buildings. Roads. Cars. People.” She was having a hard time getting the words out, as well as fighting to keep tears from welling in her eyes. “Please let me go, you're hurting me,” she managed to choke out at last.

He remained behind her, but some of the pressure from his hands faded. She leaned back, only to meet his chest. Panic was rising inside of her at the very thought of the glass breaking, and she started to hyperventilate before she fell to her knees at Bishop's feet.

Then he was there, next to her, an arm around her shoulders that she supposed was meant to be comforting, but she only felt colder, as though she was still pressed to the glass. “It's alright, Miranda,” he said quietly. “You're safe. Nothing can happen to you when you're here. I've ensured that you will never again be in any real danger.”

She looked at him, tears slipping down her face in earnest now. He coaxed her to her feet, and they moved to the other end of the huge room, where several leather armchairs and a couch were situated. He sat her down on the couch, then seated himself on one of the chairs, crossing his legs and placing his fingers together. “I am honoring your father's request to take care of you in the event of his death. Now, I realize that I have been somewhat remiss in my duties, but until my operative saw you some time ago, I had no idea where you'd gone when you left Florida.”

Miranda felt calmer now that she was far from the window, though her relief was now rapidly giving way to anger-again. “What do you mean 'take care of me?' How does kidnapping me, drugging me, and god know what else fall into that category?” She looked up at his face, and her own reflection stared back at her. That feeling of dread tightened in her stomach again. “What have you done to me?”

Bishop leaned close to her, and removed his glasses, to her shock revealing eyes that were the same plum color as her own. “Nothing that I wouldn't have done to myself, Miranda. You and I, our lives are inextricably linked. If you stay with me, I can show you a whole new existence.” He placed a hand on her arm. “I can take your fear away, replace it with a kind of power that you've never imagined.” He moved closer to her, until their faces were inches apart; she was mesmerized by his eyes, by his voice, like a sparrow before a serpent. He was so close, she felt rather than heard the whisper of his next words. “All you have to say, is 'yes.'”
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Leap of Faith, Part Two: Into the Light