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MIT: Tornado Warning	By : Ghost-of-a-Chance Category: +S through Z > Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Views: 1007 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to TMNT or Hellboy, or any songs/movies/etc referenced; no money is made from this story. I DO own Alesha, Elysia, Daisy, & the other Willows...& a husband who barely missed a Darwin Award of his own.

Chapter List
- 1-MIT: Tornado Warning
- 1
A/N: This shot may be triggering for those with storm/tornado phobias, or PTSD from a natural disaster. Major profanity warning—Alesha curses like a sailor, and can be kind of...grating. Also, Elysia can be hard to understand at times—She does this ON PURPOSE. If you cannot discern what she's saying after sounding it out aloud feel free to ask in a review or PM. She adopted her 'twang' purely to confuse people, and makes a habit of changing it up on occasion to throw people off. She's a complete troll. This one-shot takes place during my unfinished "Elementals" series-part two, specifically, which is a TMNT/Hellboy crossover. Neither parts are published yet...would prefer to get more than a few CONSECUTIVE chapters done first. Darn my non-linear thinking. Anyhoo, this standalone oneshot occurs during Alesha and Donatello's absurdly long training mission in Missouri. Constructive criticism greatly appreciated.
Y'all enjoy, and take care. :)
Dedicated to the numberless droves of volunteers who have helped put that wonderful city—Joplin—back together. Also dedicated to my wonderful, delusional husband, Cold, even though he did stand on the porch and stare at the sky like an idiot, survived it, and to thus day, gloats about it. >_<

[Suggested listening: Toad the Wet Sprocket- "The Eye"]

Tornado Warning
[Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense: Tech Repairs, Lab 3]
"You know," Mikey grumbled to Elysia, poking the orange lens of the tracker she was repairing. "It's just wrong that we're all stuck here, WORKING, while Donnie and Allie are kicking it in Branson."
"Workin'…raiht…." The blonde muttered, carefully fitting a tiny screw into its socket. "Ya do REE-lize they ain't THEY-uh to have fun, raiht?" she pointed out, jabbing the screwdriver at him. "Allie's trainin' an' Don's helpin'. Buh-sides...it's SPRING. An' you ain't workin' HALF as hahd as you says you is."
"It's still not fair." He heaved a melodramatic sigh. "They're probably on a roller coaster right now—"
"—or in the shel-tah," Elysia scoffed.
"—or seeing a show, or riding a zipline…or something else totally awesome..." Snapping the lens back in place, she shoved the tracker back at him.
"Go easy on that thang, 'kay? Break it a-GIN, an' I'm'a start CHAH-jin ya."
"Thanks, Ell," Mikey gushed, yanking the protesting blonde into a bear hug. "You're the BEST! I totally owe ya, Babe." Without further ado, he bounded out the door. As she smoothed down her impossibly staticky hair, he ducked back in the room. "What's spring got to do with anything?"
[The Willow Compound, outside Branson, Missouri]
"DONATELLO!" Alesha shrieked over the roaring wind. "GIT YER ASS IN THE FUCKIN' SHELTER, or I SWEAR TA GOD, I'm LOCKIN' YA OUT!" Don shot her a dubious glance over his shoulder, rain rendering his glasses useless.
"But this might be my only chance!" he argued, yelling to be heard over the escalating wind. "It's a tornado in its natural state—WILD, not just a cyclone in a jar! We could learn so much from—"
"You'd get yourself KILLED over THAT?!" she shrieked, struggling to stay on her feet.
"Think about the progress that could be made—We may be able to STOP THEM, if we learn enough!"
"When Mama Nature's PMS'in', yer best bet is DUCK AN' COVER! GIT IN HERE!"
"BUT—!"
"OH my FUCKIN' GOD!" she swore at the top of her lungs. "DON, You're in TORNADO ALLEY, in SPRING!" she snapped, telekinetically dragging him toward the in-ground shelter. "THE WHOLE SEASON'S spent under a WATCH or WARNIN'! BE A DUMBASS NEXT TIME!" Though he'd intended to keep arguing, a large fallen limb came careening toward his head.
"WHOA!" he yelped, ducking into a roll that took him straight through the shelter's open hatch. Alesha slammed and barred the door behind him not a moment too soon. The uneasy silence was shattered by a loud concussion as the limb smashed into the door.
"Just think, Donatello," Alesha glowered. "THAT would'a been YER HEAD." Washing her hands of the matter, she stormed toward a round table set up in the corner, grumbling about 'dumbass Yanks' and 'Darwin Awards.' While Elder Raina monitored the weather radio, Elder Daisy, Alesha, Jasmine, and a visiting air-type BPRD agent named Avira started a game of poker. Most of the shelter's occupants were engaged in some game or other, Don realized nervously. After all, they might be down there for hours. With everyone around him playing chess and checkers, board games and card games, hangman and charades by lamplight, he felt more out of place than ever before.
At the poker table, Alesha folded. Her hand had sucked, and the reptilian genius' forlorn expression was more pressing than beating the pants off her adopted mother. Already, everyone else had found a way to occupy themselves...all except—Daisy cleared her throat, shooting a pointed glance at a young girl moping by the weather radio. Alesha recognized her—she'd just entered first grade, and was the only one of her siblings who hadn't developed the elemental abilities the Willow clan was known for. Her messy flax blonde pigtails drooping, she gazed longingly at a brightly colored boardgame in her lap. Alesha knew that look. Her mind made up, she pushed her pile of loot toward Daisy with a lop-sided smirk. As she walked away, Avira muttered to Daisy, "I'll see your Skittle an' raise ya a toffee."
"Hey, Mary," Alesha greeted the girl, crouching down at her side.
"Hi, Aunt Alesha," Mary mumbled back. "I hate storms."
"Does the thunder scare you?" Alesha squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. Storm phobias were rather common in Tornado Alley, even though most were kept under wraps out of embarrassment. People found it hard to believe that someone could be afraid of storms, after living in a place notorious for storms...of course, their ancestors had found it hard to believe that the sun didn't revolve around the earth.
"It's..." The girl faltered, blushing. "It's ju's so loud...an' no one'll play with me. Why?" Alesha's dark brown eyes connected with Donatello's hazel-green ones over Mary's head; though neither spoke, both knew what the other was saying. Sure enough, the hulking terrapin approached them, offering the girl a hand up.
"Mary? This's Donatello Hamato; he's a friend of mine from New York. What'd ya wanna play?" Mary's cornflower blue eyes lit up.
"You'll play with me?" she fairly squealed, gripping the box tightly. "You won't make fun of me...or...or pick on me?"
"We won't be mean," Don agreed. "You may have to teach me how to play that game, though...I've never played it before." When the weather calmed enough to leave the shelter that night, Don would swear he'd seen an evil glint in the girl's angelic eyes. Of course, he and Alesha had both lost several humiliatingly one-sided rounds of 'Candy Land' by then.
As everyone filed out of the shelter, Alesha and Donatello hung back with the occupants who'd won at some game or other. Winners earned a discount on their next meal at Daisy's tavern, but had to clean up the shelter, restock it, and get it ready for the next use. Unfair though some felt it to be, it prevented gloating, and encouraged humility, and the discount encouraged participation. When Don returned from toting trash to the dumpsters, he found his smart mouthed companion leaning against the hatch, waiting for him.
"Sorry I screamed at ya," she mumbled awkwardly, rubbing her neck. "I just...well..." Patiently, he waited. "Ya saw Sunny an' Sander's hometown—ya saw Joplin, years after that F-5 tore through. Ya weren't there when it happened—didn't see the aftermath." Struggling to organize her thoughts, she turned to lead him up the muddy path toward the cabin they were renting.
"I was visiting 'em that weekend—saw with m' own eyes what a tornado that size can do. I stayed there for three months, part of a team dispatched to help the More-Than-Human residents who'd been affected. What happened to the victims who wouldn't seek shelter, who stood on their porches watchin' the skies like idiots..." She shuddered, blushing at the warm arm Donatello tucked around her shoulders. Normally, whenever something unpleasant occurred, she'd respond with sarcasm and a well-practiced smirk—her chosen defenses against unnecessary drama—so he was startled when she dove into his arms, nearly landing him on his shell in the mud.
"Alesha?" he asked, concern in his voice as he held her close. "Koi, what's-"
"I don' fear death," she answered softly. "For years, I e'en longed for it—couldn't accept livin' on after my…after David died. Bein' killed by a tornado, though...it's not jus' death." Teary espresso brown eyes met his, fear evident in them. "I'd rather you hate me forever, an' die an old, happy turtle, than have ya and lose ya, with only DNA to identify you. If ya get caught in the eye…there might not…be…." She buried herself in his embrace, her lungs choked with fear.
Rubbing her back, he shushed her softly. "I didn't realize, Al," he said softly, the nickname tinted with affection and regret. "I'm sorry."
"I'm okay, Don," she finally answered, wearily relaxing in his embrace. "I was...I was jus' scared—scared you'd be hurt. And, well," she shrugged. When her wry, lopsided smirk appeared, he knew for certain that she'd be okay. "You know me. I don't do scared. Annoyed? Yeah. Angry? Fuck yes. Toddler tantrum? If ya take away ma coffee. Scared? PFFT." she scoffed. "Not in my vocabulary." Eyes bright with mischief, Donatello grinned.
"Is that so?" Not waiting for an answer, he swept her off her feet and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of chicken feed, laughing at her panicked shrieks. "Simmer down, Braveheart," he teased, patting her plump rear as he hiked up the road to their cabin. "You'll wake the neighbors."
Once they were again curled up before the fireplace, her fear of heights was the furthest thing from his mind. More pressing matters included their eventual return to the BPRD, how to explain their blossoming relationship to the friends and family who probably still though they hated each other, and the lovely little sweet spot he'd discovered in the hollow of her neck. Someday, they'd return--they couldn't stay in Missouri forever. Someday, his brothers would find out, just as he had, that there was much more to the loud-mouthed, smart-assed Spirit Elemental than met the eye.
Someday, he hoped, someday she'd be his for good. Her adopted mother, Daisy, seemed to approve of him—of course, he was helping with her animals, so why wouldn't she approve of him? Elder Sebastian, Alesha's grandfather, also seemed fond of him now. Great minds do tend to think alike, after all. Even her adopted brother Thomas had professed that he "wasn't that bad," and Thomas tended to be antisocial on good days. He had no worries about her family…he could only hope his father would approve of his choice.
[Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense: Barracks 3, Splinter's Rooms]
In a dark room sweet with the smoky perfume of incense and the tang of green tea, an aged humanoid rat knelt silently on a solitary cushion. An unexpected knock echoed through the room. Torn from his meditation, Splinter stood and hastened to answer the door. The hallway was empty, and if the motion activated lights were to be believed, had been empty for quite some time. Confused, he returned to his parlor, contemplating the occurrence.
As he went about fixing another cup of tea, the knocking returned, accompanied by a metallic ting, similar to the ring of a bell. Curiously, he turned to the set of handcrafted wind chimes Donatello had sent him for the Christmas holiday. Despite the still air, the clocking of hollowed out bamboo and soft tones from finely crafted metal chimes filled his parlor with sweet, serene music. Sure enough, the chimes swayed slowly, stirred by an unseen force.
His heart warmed, Splinter paused for a prayer of safety for his absent son...safety, serenity, and certainty. After all, he reasoned, it wasn't easy to find love, living in the sewers. Gods willing, though, the love Donatello had found there would last a lifetime.
~*~
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MIT: Tornado Warning