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Whispers in the Dark	By : Ombre_des_dieux Category: +S through Z > Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Views: 1780 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, nor the characters from it. My rights extend only to this original plot and the original characters herein. This is an homage after a 30-year love affair with the characters. No money was made.

Chapter List
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A/N: Dearest readers,
This is a work of fanfiction not tied to any particular, or official, continuity. Though I based many character personalities and attitudes on the early seasons of the 2003 animated series, no one particular incarnation held all the answers.
You’ll find I used a rich mix of story cannon from a variety of different sources: comics, cartoons, movies, cgi films and other even other fanfiction. When there wasn’t a reason for something, I used my own headcanon.
If that sounds confusing, don’t worry, I understand.
Our beloved ‘Heroes-in-a-Half-Shell’ have had so many incarnations it’s sometimes hard to keep all the details straight. As of this writing I know of five different origin stories and as future generations fall in love with our guys there will surely be more.
Add in the marvelous alternate universes of fanfiction and relationships can be downright confusing to keep track of, much less minor character traits and story points. So I’m defining my characters and locations in a document on my facebook page, including elements of existing ‘official’ cannon I’m referencing for this story. So if you need clarity, hit up my profile.
Despite their disparate origins, I hope you’ll agree they all weave together into one fantastic tale.
Angel
Morgan climbed the empty stairs to the roof of her workplace, listening to the metallic echo of her heavy snow boots bounce around the industrial stairway. She grimaced at what she heard. Still two more floors to the top.
Plodding steadily upward, she wished for the thousandth time the smokers didn't contaminate the outdoor courtyard below. Her heightened senses meant she couldn't stand the acrid smell. But the park-like space in the center of their building drew far too social a crowd and she wanted to be alone.
Snow fell again today sealing the door to the rooftop, but when she leaned her whole body against the unwieldy metal barrier it gave, forming a crested wave in the powdery cold wetness. If she came this way again tomorrow she would need to be careful. The freshly scraped space might freeze overnight creating a dangerous icy patch.
She didn't need to add a broken bone to her ever expanding list of worries. With a deep breath, she pushed them away and abandoned the scant shelter of the stairwell door.
Her booted feet made soft crunching noises in the snow as she advanced into the brisk winter air. It paired harmoniously with the whistling call of the breeze through the nearby aluminum vents and she shivered slightly at the forlorn song.
Exactly twenty-five paces later, she stopped and rested her mittened hands lightly on the metal railing at the roof's edge.
It was cold and impersonal here in the icy grip of the North wind, but Morgan craved the isolation. No one followed her up here and except for the occasional stray pigeon, she was alone. Small vibrations shook the barrier under her hands, letting her know one landed nearby. Its quiet coo soothing her overtaxed ears. In other cities, it might be strange to encounter a bird out this late. In New York, the lights provided a false sense of daytime, allowing even second shift workers to appreciate some wildlife.
She reached into a pocket and fished out a small bag full of crusts carefully saved from the last loaf of bread in her apartment. She wouldn't be able to afford another until Friday when her paycheck cleared, but she couldn't begrudge her feathered friends a snack in this weather.
She shivered a little as she removed a mitten and spread a substantial amount of crumbs on top of the snow. The soft flutter of wings as the bird dropped eagerly to eat made her smile.
I need this quiet time. A break from the chaos downstairs.
The buzzing sound of the company’s neon sign distracted her, pulsing on and off repeatedly. She glared in its general direction. The continual cycling acted as the heartbeat of the building, reminding her the daily grind still waited below.
Morgan sighed. Her position as a phone response agent for Angel Automotive Insurance meant she spent most of her time speaking to annoyed and upset motorists.
Not my favorite pastime.
Somehow her life had become an endless parade of unknown strangers who locked themselves out of a car, slid into another vehicle, or wanted to be an ass about the damage a salt truck did as it passed by during the night.
Who knew winter caused so many problems for motorists?
It seemed to her a little too much to assume a small premium should cover all the inconveniences of life, but she was a bit biased.
Morgan didn't own a car for a variety of reasons. For one, they were expensive to maintain, let alone park. Besides, getting around the city was easy. Subways, buses, and taxis abounded but she preferred traveling on her own two feet. They were dependable, affordable, and not tethered to any sort of timetable.
Work’s only a 20-minute walk from my apartment.
Turning her back on the city, she relaxed against the railing and lifted her face to the sky, closing her eyes. If she concentrated, she could feel the cool tingle as her breath misted in the icy air and fell down around her. A soft brush of something more substantial across her cheek announced the arrival of more snow.
Tiny flakes landed and stuck to the curly hair peeking out around the edges of the fuzzy knitted hat she wore. The cap was plain and shapeless, perhaps even ridiculous, but it kept her head warm and her hair mostly dry. It matched the worn material of her coat and scarf making the whole ensemble seem a little less hodge-podge and more... intentional.
A tiny chime from her watch announced a five-minute warning and her mood changed abruptly. Her break was over. Taking one last deep breath of the crisp winter air, she resigned herself to the effort it would take to pry the heavy steel access open again and trudged back toward the stairwell.
But when she reached the shelter of the doorway, warmth hit her face. Immediately, she stepped back.
"Hello?" she asked, tilting her head.
She didn't hear anything, but for one fleeting moment, she sensed curious eyes upon her. Intense and warm, they felt like nothing she ever experienced.
Morgan stilled like startled wildlife.
Is someone else up here?
Eventually, she shrugged off her momentary sense of unease. Perhaps the door had simply stuck open when she came out earlier. Grateful she wouldn't have to struggle with it, she slipped into the welcoming warmth and made sure it closed behind her.
After she left, he blew out the breath he held and stepped from concealment among the shadows. He knew damn well he should not have interacted with her, but she struggled so much on the way out he couldn't help himself. When she stamped back through the snow, halfheartedly rubbing her arms, he raced in front of her and braced the door open.
Despite his own better judgment, he had lingered when the young woman first emerged. Even when it became obvious she intended to stay for more than a quick cigarette. But he did not forget his training. He remained out of sight and examined her warily.
The girl strode from the relative comfort of the stairwell with bold challenge to the cold. Her steps showing a precision, grace, and confidence he'd seldom seen in a human—outside of a well-trained assassin.
Consumed by overly large and shapeless winter clothes, her petite figure was difficult to make out. The dark coat and hat were bland against the snowfall. Muted olive, brown, and black blended with the other shadowy shapes on the rooftop almost perfectly. If he hadn't seen her come out, he might have missed her altogether.
A faded red scarf tied under her chin was her only attempt at brightening up the outfit, but even it showed wear, raveling all around the edges. The whole ensemble screamed 'cast-offs' and didn't fit her well. Not that he should judge.
Money's hard to come by in all walks of life these days.
More subtle details became apparent the longer he observed. The girl had pale porcelain skin and shimmering brunette curls which peeked from under her hat. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold and her eyes glistened in the bright light from the flashing sign above them.
Even more striking was the way she appeared to absorb the night. Relishing the silence, she gathered it in and magnified it before projecting it back out in peaceful waves. A surge of calm which soothed even his savage soul.
The curious way she conducted herself intrigued him. Her mittened hands rested softly on the railing as if seeking information and she tilted her head first left, then right in a birdlike manner.
As though summoned, one flew up to join her. The small grey pigeon was common enough in the city, but she treated it with reverence, spreading a sumptuous feast of bread crumbs for it in the snow. Despite her obvious lack of funds, she had no qualms about sharing what she did possess. He found himself nodding silently in approval—until she smiled.
Time held its breath as that small upturn of her lips transformed her face from merely pretty to something incredible. He stood frozen, dumbfounded by its glow.
What I wouldn't give to have that smile directed at me.
The thought escaped from the silent well of his heart. Angrily, he shook himself to break the spell.
What am I thinkin’? Trouble don't stalk her every move. People like her, with jobs an’ a quiet life, don't need me... An' I certainly don't need her. Why the hell did I even stop? She ain't nothin but a distraction.
Frustrated, he tore his eyes away from the slight form before him to regain his bearings. He couldn't leave his hiding place until she went back inside and that added to his irritation. Casting an annoyed glare around the rooftop, he sought something to divert his attention while he waited. His eyes landed on the neon logo above her head.
It blinked 'Angel' over and over again.
He snorted at this 'sign from above'. He didn’t need to have that pointed out to him in large glowing letters.
I’ve got eyes.
She tilted her head in his direction and he stilled.
She heard that? Watch yourself. She's sharp.
Satisfied she was alone, she leaned back on the railing and turned her face to the night sky. His breath caught. Had he truly thought her only pretty moments ago? Beauty was all he saw now.
Pixie-like eyes, prominent cheekbones, and a tiny upturned nose lured him closer. Curls softly framed her face and trapped the small white flakes of snow beginning to fall in a scene so serene it was almost magical.
He stared, entranced—irritation melting away as he lost himself in the view
A chime from her wrist interrupted their joint reverie. She sighed, opened her eyes, and began to trek resolutely back toward the stairs. That was when he'd decided to open the door. A little gesture of kindness in return for sharing her moment of serenity.
When the girl realized it was ajar, she stopped in confusion. She tensed and flinched in the golden yellow rectangle of light as if she expected a blow. A cautious ‘hello’ broke the silence. Her smooth, low tone held an edge which made him reconsider his earlier notion.
She might be in danger after all.
He eyed the dull green door curiously as she closed it behind her with extreme care, but he didn't have long to consider her odd reaction. A vibration distracted him and he checked his phone. He huffed at the text prompting him for an update and sent the all clear for his portion of the patrol so far. There were still two hours left and several miles to go before he could call it a night and get out of this despicable cold.
I so hate winter.
Tonight, though, he had forgotten it for a time. An angel had shown him that beauty lurked in the silence and stillness. Serenity could be found almost anywhere if you were open to it.
Even in the bowels of the city.
After his patrol, he would come back this way. She worked the second shift so she should be finished then and headed home. He would escort her.
This neighborhood ain't too bad, but why should she have ta brave it alone in the dark?
Route and course of action determined, he dashed toward the edge of the building, leaping the gap to the next in a smooth, agile movement. He didn't fear leaving footprints in the snow. His oversized leather boots left irregular melted marks which defied analysis and were strangely quiet. Silence was his constant companion. The only sound marring his passing was the soft rustle of cloth he wore as a mask around his eyes.
The crimson fabric which marked him as Raphael.
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Whispers in the Dark