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A New Lease on Life	By : Ghost-of-a-Chance Category: +S through Z > Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Views: 3157 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own TMNT, any of its characters or devices, or any songs/books/movies referenced. No money is made from this story. I DO own any & all OCs included in the story...and a Woozle.

Chapter List
- 17
- 18
- 19
Suggested Listening: RUSH, "Distant Early Warning," 'Til Tuesday, "Voices Carry," Heart "Alone"
17: Turmoil
March 4th, 2016 - Manhattan
Hun was not a patient man, nor was he a merciful one. He was, however, cunning and keen, and very much used to getting what he wanted. For that reason alone, Northpaw Jackson was stunned by his boss' response.
"Ya don't want me ta drag'im in?" the stubble-chinned punk gawked stupidly. "But…but if Daron's been hidin Kimber—"
"—he'll expect an attack, Jackson," Hun rumbled back. "If we go in guns a-blazing an' she ain't there, he's gotta chance ta warn'er. No…" A predatory leer split his face. "We set a watch on'is place—sooner'er later, Kimbuh'll drop in ta see'im…an' we'll be ready."
Olde Thyme Coffee, Tea, and Spice Shoppe, Brooklyn
"Ya said he likes green teas?" Mercy asked, scanning the looming racks of tea with increasing bewilderment. Upon first entering the quaint store, she'd been swept away by the pleasant smells and friendly staff; now she was up shit crick without a paddle. "What kind? They' got more green teas here'n I got issues!"
Amber cringed but didn't argue. "Donnie just said 'green,'" she admitted staring through the text displayed on her phone screen. "They were about to hit the dojo, so he didn't have time to explain…an' I know exactly Jack-spit about green tea…always tastes like compost juice to me."
"You might try lemongrass." The two friends jumped at the sudden suggestion from behind. Upon turning to greet the speaker, they were struck silent.
A sharp blue headscarf hid both hair and head, and molasses-brown eyes grinned over angular glasses. At her left side, a large odd-eyed chocolate lab panted and grinned, seemingly proud of the obnoxiously bright harness marking him as a service animal. Some well-meaning person had tied a bright blue drool bandana around his neck emblazoned with the name El Bosco. "It's a popular blend," Bosco's owner added, "and easily found." Setting her basket of baking spices and medicinal teas on the floor beside her she offered her now-free one with an easy smile. "Beverly Hardy."
"Amber O'Brien," the brunette replied somewhat nervously as she accepted the handshake. Had she heard that name before, she wondered? The woman seemed somehow familiar to her, but she'd swear she'd never seen her before in either of her lives! "This's Mercy Ross. You seem to know your teas." Bev smirked, carefully approaching the shelf before them.
"No," she admitted simply, fumbling for a particular box; left-field blindness was bad enough without vertical double vision. Twice she overshot the box before reaching it and fumbled it slightly, but finally passed it to Amber with silent triumph. After going on half a year of treatment and vision trouble, every feat was worth celebrating. "I've a friend who does, though, and he tells me his father raves about this particular brand—something about being the next best thing to authentic matcha."
Amber and Mercy exchanged a surprised glance; it sounded like something Master Splinter would say. "It's nice meeting you two…good luck." By the time the two bewildered women could string together a sentence between them, Beverly and Bosco were long gone.
An hour later, the Lair, Splinter's Room
"I understand what I did was wrong, Sir," Mercy mumbled to her crossed legs. "I don't expect you to overlook it nor do I expect you to accept my apology. I just…" Swallowing her pride like a twelve-inch slug, she blurted out the rest as quickly as possible. "I'msorryforassaultingyourson." She cringed, glaring hatefully at her legs. Though ripping a bandage off as quickly as possible did the trick, apparently doing the same thing with speech only made her sound like an idiot.
Splinter hummed in interest, pasting on an expression of concern. "Miss Ross, whatever unspeakable act you committed against your knees' son, I'm sure they forgive you." The tongue-in-cheek comment successfully drew her stunned eyes up to his own. "Or were you perhaps addressing myself?" She winced, awkwardly spearing long fingers through her uneven blonde hair, and nodded. "I accept your apology, but it was not I whom you assaulted—you need to speak with Raphael on this matter."
"Y…Yes, Sir," she admitted softly. "I'm…still working on that one. I just wanted to…to get yer leave first…didn't wanna intrude." Suddenly recalling the stop she made on the way to the Lair, she collected the tin of tea from the paper bag in her lap. "A peace offering," she explained pushing the tin toward him, "an' a promise that it won't happen again."
Long after Mercy was gone, Splinter stared down at the tin on his low table. It was precisely the brand and variety he enjoyed most—a rather rare blend from a local specialty shop which Leo managed to procur for him regularly without explanation. The odds that Mercy would bring him this exact tea without anyone's suggestion were remarkably slim; stranger still, it was so expensive he was sure none of his sons would have suggested it. Perhaps an answer would reveal itself after a period of deep meditation.
Donatello wasn't always the most observant turtle when he had a lot on his mind. Still, it was rare for him to be so engrossed with staring into space that he never noticed company. Amber feared what this could mean; what happened while she was gone?
"Dee?" The greeting startled him out of his haze and Amber found herself held at pen-point by the suddenly hyper-alert genius. "Right…ninja. Sorry. Y'okay?"
As his pulse regulated and the adrenaline spike wore off, he beckoned her over, pushing the microscope closer to her. "What do you see?" he asked simply.
She bent and pressed her eyes to the scope, adjusted the dials on the sides, and finally straightened up again, meeting his hazel eyes in bewilderment. "Nothin'," she answered weakly, "just an empty slide." A worried sigh escaped his lungs and he retrieved a stoppered glass vial from the desk, holding it out for her. Trapped inside was a fine shimmering translucent powder—so faint it was barely visible. She glanced back and forth between Donnie and the test tube, non-plussed.
"That slide wasn't empty when I put it there," he stated seriously. "It had this on it…somehow, in the few seconds between preparing the slide and looking through the scope, it completely dissipated. I tested the slide afterward…it's clean." For a moment, he'd planned to tell her the rest—including why he found the powder in the first place. That would mean revealing the unexplained insult during his shower, though, and he ultimately decided to keep it to himself. He'd searched the Lair relentlessly and found no other evidence of an intruder. Amber was dealing with enough anxiety without the possibility of an intruder appearing and disappearing without a trace, and he couldn't bear to add to her worries.
"What?" She shook her head in denial. "That's impossible, it couldn't just vanish! If a substance breaks down, there'll always be traces left behind as evidence, even if they're invisible to the naked eye—matter can't simply wink out of existence!" For a moment he just stared at her, and Amber winced. "…right? College was a long time ago…I might'a got' my wires crossed." To her confusion, when Donnie finally snapped out of it, his cheeks had darkened in a faint blush.
"N-No," he answered, flinching when his voice cracked. "You're correct—not a single element in the universe can vanish without leaving trace evidence behind. Even normally invisible substances like gaseous elements leave proof of their presence in the form of chemical traces, changes in the molecular structure of nearby particles, and effects to the substance they came in contact with."
The impossibly empty slide taunted him mercilessly; he simply couldn't wrap his head around it. Maybe she could handle the rest of the truth...at least, as long as he didn't fill in too many of the blanks. Setting the tube down in favor of his cellphone, he showed Amber a photo of the sparkling shoe prints on the bathroom floor. "It's impossible, but there's not even a speck of dust between the slide and slip…and the floor's the same. This photo and that tube are the only proof the powder ever existed, and if the dissipation rate continues unchanged, it'll be non-existent in 30.27 minutes."
The déjà vu Amber felt was sweltering. She knew something was off about the freaky space glitter, and yet she couldn't pull a single hint from her memories. In her previous life, she'd been a crazed TMNT fan—she could recite movie lines in her sleep, could blindly identify character voice clips by series, season, and even predict whom the character was speaking to in the clips. She knew every character, knew their backstories, strengths, flaws, habits, and quirks, and altogether was entirely obsessed. Then she died and was sent to another world.
Now, she can hardly recall any of that knowledge outside of the five ninjas, the Purple Dragons and the Foot, and April and Casey…and in moments like this, it frightened her. So often in the fanfiction she'd loved, an equally obsessed fan was sent to the world of her heroes and her knowledge of the series was vital to their very survival. Just the tiniest forewarning of an opponent's weaknesses and impending dangers could mean the difference—even a simple 'don't stand in that doorway' could save a life. Of course, Amber reminded herself, her life was not a fanfiction—it was a bad joke.
The vanishing glitter and the photo on Donnie's cell phone rang a bell, but she hadn't the slightest idea for whom it tolled.
7:15 pm, Brooklyn
'Of all the nights to forgo gloves,' Leonardo thought with a shudder. A cold morning had been followed by an even colder afternoon, and it seemed nighttime wanted in on the contest. Only one thing could drag him out of the lair on a night like this, especially alone. 'I hope those tests went well…Bev deserves a break after everything she's been through.' As he neared a school, the underground yawned out onto the sidewalk, crumbling steps empty. Had it really been almost half a year, he wondered tiredly? Half a year of nonstop testing, fear, dread, and tears?
"Where am I? What's happening—why can't I see—I can't see anything!" Alone in the empty station, a young woman groped along the floor. Pain splintered through her skull in endless concussions; all around her, the world had shifted on its axis. Shades of grey and shadow became stabbing lights among a murky black background. "I—I can't see! Why—God, my—WHY?!"
The blaring of an ambulance siren snapped Leo out of his thoughts. How long had he been standing there on the rooftop, staring at the stairs where he found her, helpess in the throes of what had seemed a stroke? His lips tipped in a humorless smile; he saw no point in dwelling on what could have been.
"I know you're there, Hogosha," the tired woman mumbled to him with unseeing eyes the color of molasses. He winced, perturbed at being noticed, but obediently approached the hospital bed she was tucked into. It was too risky being here—a matter of moments and he could be discovered skulking in the dark room, whether by hospital staff or the curly-haired woman wadded up in the windowseat. This sickly woman, Beverly, believed him to be a guardian spirit, but he didn't see it; he only saw her slowly wasting away before his very eyes.
"Don't worry," she mumbled gesturing weakly to the sleeper nearby, "Bree just finished finals—she ain't wakin' up…Dunno what to tell'er. Docs think it's a tumor…or a cyst…or…something. All they can agree on is it's getting bigger." Her bitter laugh came out more a grunt, the high dosage pain medicine in her IV slurring and slowing her. "I told Bree to check for missing hair clips…didn't wanna scare'er."
Though she could no more see him than the cramped window-seat her exhausted cousin had scrunched herself up in, she turned to the place she felt her visitor stood. Even now with her vision reduced to shadows of impressions, she still hoped to someday catch a glimpse of the man who found her, protected her, and never gave his real name.
Hogosha. He smiled fondly at the thought as he scaled the rough brick wall of a silent warehouse. Who'd have ever thought she'd latch onto that word like she did? She likely would have recalled his presence as a hallucination brought on by pain meds, had he not given her a name to ease her mind. She'd never heard the word before and at the first chance had sent her cousin Googling. Having been raised on tales of youkai, ninja, samurai, and spirits, it never occurred to Leo that she wouldn't know the tales as well. What started out as a slip in judgment, an empty gesture to comfort a very ill woman, became exactly what she needed…
Hope.
Finally, he reached the rooftop, his eyes latching onto the highest windows of the next building over; the ground-level storefront was closed for the day but the loft above was teeming with life. Amid the dim lamplight, a slender feminine silhouette on the parlor curtains swayed to a barely audible rhythm. Lessons were over, then…just in time. Carefully he readjusted the bag tucked over his shoulder and took a running leap. The fire escape never once creaked as he caught the edge and rushed to the dark window still unlocked after his last visit.
Snickerdoodles. He sucked in the scent eagerly, certain a plate of them waited in the parlor. Once, he would have never entered the apartment unannounced, would have crept from room to room to evade discovery. They were far past that, though. After all, it had been almost half a year, and once the students were gone, only allies remained.
"YAAACK!" someone screeched behind a closed door as Leo strode from the dark kitchen like he owned the place. "HelphelphelpHELP! Mikey, save my squishy butt, I'm dying here!" Sure enough, she was answered by an all-too-familiar voice.
"Ya think I ain't?!" Michelangelo shot back amid a cacophony of button smashing and gory sound effects. "I'm squishy too, ya know?! And you're level seven-hundred-something, Miss Walla-Walla-Bing-Bang—I haven't even hit paragon yet!" Leo edged open the door and checked on the two culprits sprawled across the fluffy purple throw rug and giant fuzzy beanbag. At Mikey's side, a petite brunette in frilly pink pajamas furiously worked the controller in hand, weaving and ducking to the side with each sudden move as though to make her character move faster. With every move, her bouffant curls bounced in time. Ah yesh...they were playing Diablo 3, Leo recalled, stifling laughter at the pair's antics. Suddenly, Bree jerked away with a yelp.
"SCREW THIS!" she all but shrieked, her Witch Doctor turning into an angry chicken and streaking away from the advancing horde just enough to fast travel home. "Buh-bye."
"What?! Oh, you did not just—" Seemingly out of nowhere something about thirty feet high with four hammer-ended arms stormed up behind his Demon Hunter. "Oh, come on!" Mikey sobbed, the controller falling slack in his grip as his Demon Hunter exploded in a spray of blood. "Not cool! You ditched me with a freakin' Mallet Lord, Bree! A walking one-shot dealer!" Leo didn't see their bickering ending anytime soon, nor did he see it ending with anything more severe than someone getting tickled to death or sat on.
"Serves ya right for startin' a level 150 Greater Rift while I was out'a the room!" she retorted, blowing a raspberry as Leo slipped away without a word. "An' the name's Ting-Tang—Walla-Walla-Bing-Bang wouldn't fit, remember?"
Lamplight and shadows painted the tidy parlor, a soft, achingly emotional tune flowing from a setup by the curtain-clad bay windows. Leo knew that tune; the deceptively frail woman teasing the rippling notes from the piano played it often when she thought no one was listening. 'Moonlight Sonata,' he recalled silently, watching as she unconsciously swayed with the rhythm. As silently as ever, he crept closer, studying her with an odd mix of concern and comfort.
Her slightly tilted eyes were closed, her narrow glasses folded up on the empty music stand; in a way he'd never seen before, her long black hair hung in waves down her shoulders and back, gleaming in the candlelight. If not for the tall IV stand beside her, the tubing pumping heavy antibiotics into her bloodstream, the large patch of bare, scarred skin on the rear right of her scalp, and her sallow skin, Leonardo would never have believed her ill.
"Well," Beverly smiled wryly to the shadows in the corner of her hospital room; she knew her Hogosha had come to check on her, though she still couldn't see him. "Good news and bad news…what do you want first?"
"I guess the good?" Leo answered hesitantly. "Did the biopsy reveal anything?" She chuckled lowly, shrugging.
"It's not a tumor, it's not cancerous, and it's not a cyst," she related. "Who knew you could be killed by complications from a broken tooth? Before it was pulled, the infection migrated up into my brain and formed an abscess. I'll be on heavy IV antibiotics for a few months to eradicate it." She hesitated, reaching up to gingerly prod the layers of gauze strapped to the back of her head. "The swelling caused the vision loss and pain…it's drained, but I still can't see on the left field. Docs say it might be permanent."
"Your left side vision's gone?" Leo replied quietly. "You turned away when you heard me…turned your blind side to me." Color tinged her cheeks; she nodded faintly. Technically, she wasn't blind on her left side - the left field of vision in both eyes had simply gone too dark to discern. She wasn't one to nitpick, though.
"You wished to remain unseen, Leonardo, and unless you decide otherwise so you shall. I owe you my life; would it not be ungrateful to deny you that?"
The last note rang through the air; Beverly settled back on the bench, her talented hands falling slack on the keys. The clacking of claws on hardwood broke the spell of silence, and through the door burst a familiar chocolate lab mix. "Hey, Bosco," Bev greeted, turning bodily to face the doorway, only to freeze at the sight of her Hogosha scratching the dog's neck. In a flurry of movement, she yanked up the headscarf abandoned on the piano and began hastily wrapping her hair again. "Leo, I didn't hear you."
"You don't have to hide it, Beverly…I wasn't even looking." Instead of answering, she slipped her glasses back on and stood weakly, bringing him a plate piled high with Snickerdoodles; the grin splitting his face made her chuckle.
"Such a kid," she teased as he bit into a still warm cookie with an appreciative shiver. "Sometimes I wonder if you'd ever visit without Bree's baking…can't really argue, though." Laughing molasses eyes glanced pointedly at a paper bag tucked away on the fireplace mantle. "She felt bad for teasing you the other day…that's a whole pound of tiger butter in apology."
For a time, the two friends simply lounged on the sofa making small talk and going over the news from her last appointment. Unfortunately, while scans still showed progress with the abscess' healing, there was less progress than Dr. Crane was hoping for. As a result, yet another month was added to her recovery estimate and he'd ordered her IV dosage increased again. Finally, certain she'd lulled the ninja into a sense of security, Bev struck. "So how's Amber?"
Cookie crumbs sprayed over the twin katana lying on the coffee table and lodged in Leo's lungs. Once he was finally finished hacking them out, he fixed a fearful stare on her. "How'd you—who—I didn't even—!" Finally, he realized what happened; an almost sulky frown replaced the frantic expression. "You manipulative skunk…you tricked me." Beverly chuckled with a sly grin.
"And?" she retorted smugly. "I told you I'd get answers one way or another. I take it she's why life's been 'interesting' lately?"
Leo sunk back into the sofa cushions, trying to formulate a reply. "In a word," he sighed, "yes. We found her in January and we still don't have any real answers…if Sensei hadn't seen the memories with his own eyes I'd be sure she's lied about the whole thing." Pale blue eyes met hers with thinly veiled nervousness. "She's from another world…somehow she was brought here after death, and trapped in the body of a dead Purple Dragon. Mercy, a friend of hers, is in the same boat—instead of a thug, she woke up in an alcoholic homeless woman."
Beverly stared back in disbelief. When his expression never faltered, she knew it was true; she sagged into the sofa beside him. Never let it be said that Leo's life was boring. "If that's your idea of interesting," she drawled, "I'd hate to see a disaster."
"It's worse, actually." More out of habit than concern about the soggy cookie crumbs, he drew a polishing cloth from a pouch on his belt and went about systematically wiping down his blades one by one. The slow methodical movements always helped him focus, after all. "Because of how she was killed, she's developed Post-Traumatic Stress…Donnie's taken it upon himself to help her conquer it. I've never seen him take such interest in anything that didn't involve technology. Hun's got a bounty on her head, she's unable to move on from her old life, and even worse…" He shook his head in disbelief. "…I think Donnie's fallen for her. It won't end well."
Beverly studied him silently, reading between the lines. "You fear she'll hurt him—that she doesn't feel the same way."
"She won't feel the same way," he corrected bitterly. "There's no way she could…she's human, and humans don't see us that way. What human would love something they see as an animal?"
Bev stared him down, waiting for him to meet her eyes before saying softly, "Love is blind, Leonardo. It doesn't see race, gender, age, class, or any such superficial trivialities. Human men and women without a shred of decency in their souls can still be loved by others; I've never met Donatello, but if he's any bit the kind, honorable, good man you are, any woman would be lucky to call him her own." He started at the gentle hand that stilled his without warning and turned to meet her serious gaze. "Don't write off love so easily…you're no more an animal than I am an ape."
Half an hour later, Mikey and Bree emerged from her room, geeking out over stumbling into a "loot goblin flash mob." Leonardo was long gone and Beverly stared out the bay windows, listlessly ruffling the fur between Bosco's ears. The two friends fell silent. Earlier, Bev had been full of life; now she was tired and defeated. A glance to the now-empty mantle revealed Leo's visit and the silent loft, his departure.
"How," Beverly murmured vaguely, "can such an observant man be so blind?" Michelangelo's hand on her right shoulder brought her out of her ruminations, and gratefully, she reached up to clutch it with her own.
"You've gotta tell'im someday, Bev," he reminded gently. "He'll never figure it out on his own." At one time, she'd have been stunned that he saw the situation so easily—he seemed such an airhead at times. In the last few months, though, he'd revealed an emotional intuition that amazed her. The sickly woman knew without a doubt he understood perfectly.
"Someday," she admitted with no small amount of hurt. "Until then, I'd accomplish more talking to the dog."

UP NEXT: Mercy opens a can of worms in Running, Hiding, Lying
I have a confession to make. "Ting-Tang" is MY character on Diablo 3...named for an infamous song about a witchdoctor. Unfortunately, THAT witchdoctor can't turn into an angry chicken, run up behind baddies, and explode behind them without taking any damage. Ting-Tang can!
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A New Lease on Life