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. |
Adam Lambert "Things that I didn't Say," Nickelback "Far Away," Dishwalla "Healing Star," Basshunter "You're Not Alone"
44: Blind Spots
September 15th, around 9 pm
Many months ago, back when Beverly first saw Leonardo, he found her in her neglected rooftop garden watching traffic passing by. At the time, he'd worried she was going to harm herself—that she intended to fling herself off the roof to her death—now, he knew she just needed some fresher air and some space, and to lose herself in contemplation of the wonders of the city she lived in.
Just like the day he first revealed himself to her, Leo arrived to find her on the roof, standing by the metal café table and chairs near the widow's walk and watching the traffic below. This time, however, he didn't say anything—he just wandered up to her, lifted a lock of her half-bound hair to his nose and inhaled the sultry scent of her shampoo, and tried to understand why she seemed to tense at his presence.
"You seem well, Koishii."• With a content sigh, he stepped up to her back and wrapped his arms around her middle, contemplating the traffic she was supposedly watching. "Today must have been rough…I don't see Bosco with you."
"I forgot him," she admitted as she realized the truth. Her heart hurt. "I just…I just needed some air."
"Too much time indoors isn't good for you," he acknowledged releasing her and gently turning her toward the roof access door, "but it's getting cold out here…we don't want you getting sick."
At one time, she confessed to caring for him—promised to wait for him until she was healing up and asked he do the same—but anymore, he had trouble remembering why he ever agreed to the wait. He cared about her—probably cared more than she cared about him—and it was driving him crazy keeping his distance from her. Against his own best judgement, he squeezed her shoulder in warning and swept her up in his arms to carry her back down to the parlor. She was so lightweight to him—even before she got so thin, she always felt light as a feather to him—and this close, he could almost fool himself that he wasn't the only one being driven out of his mind by her nearness—could almost fool himself that his wasn't the only heart pounding, his the only pulse racing.
As the over-protective ninja carried Beverly back into the parlor with Bosco snuffling at his heels, Beverly fell silent—lost herself in the strength of his arms and the tangy, masculine scent of him. Smoky incense long burned—tea long drunk—some eucalyptus-scented soap with spicy and floral undertones—worn leather and potent male musk—his exotic scent was as deeply ingrained in her memory as the still, calming blue of his eyes, and it tugged her heartstrings mercilessly.
Burning her lungs and eyes with his scent and her fears, he eased her onto the piano bench and cautiously seated himself beside her as though he worried their combined weight would splinter the wood. The worried furrow between his eyes when he tested the strength of her furniture always struck her as adorable, but it also always reminded her of how much larger he really was than her. Leonardo and his brothers were huge—tall, muscular, and heavier than the average human of their build—but for Leo to be so careful, so worried her furniture wouldn't hold him, well, it kind of made sense to her. He was careful and cautious if anything…sometimes too careful and cautious, but Bev had to admit it was just part of his charm. If he was anything but, he wouldn't be so entertaining to unsettle.
When he first arrived at the Hardys' loft, Leo was dismayed to find Beverly absent. Bosco, clearly left behind and pawing at the roof access door, revealed his owner's location—Beverly was, as so often before, drawn to the rooftop to take in the crisp night air. It was something she did often in the beginning—a habit her guardian eventually came to appreciate, comforted by the way the night air calmed her, softened and soothed her—but as she grew sick and weak, she stopped going out on the roof without company. Many months had passed since Leo last saw her out there, alone and lost in thought, and though his initial thought was to lecture her for carelessness, he realized she needed this—she needed the freedom the night wind could give her, not his harsh words. Of course, she also didn't need to catch cold, and the nights were starting to get cold quickly.
Her silence concerned him. He was always concerned about her—it came with the territory, having a blind spot—but she was never so silent like this. The unfamiliar white noise in the old loft apartment nearly deafened without Beverly's smooth, precise speech filling the parlor, and Leo wondered what was so heavy on her mind that she couldn't speak. "I take it you got a call," he attempted, recalling similar silences in the past after tense phone conversations left her emotionally shut down. "Doc Crane wanted to share your results?"
"Yes." She wouldn't meet his eyes. "I received a call about the results…not long ago, either." She shook herself from some thought, molasses-brown eyes meeting his through her boxy glasses. "You remember our agreement, don't you?"
"I told you I'd wait for you." He was unable to stop himself from tracing the curve of her jawline. At the sight of his callused green knuckles against her smooth olive-toned skin, he sucked in a shaky breath and folded his hands in his lap. She wasn't the sort of woman prone to encouraging closeness; he never got permission to paw her like that, no matter how hard it was to resist. Temptation is only in the mind—resist.
All at once, he realized he never finished what he meant to say; he wet his lips, focusing on keeping his breathing even. Normally, he'd demand the test results—he'd feel so hopeful for good news that he'd insist she share what she heard—but then, he normally wasn't so driven out of his mind by her nearness and fighting a raging…well, fighting himself. "I promised to wait," he repeated. "That hasn't changed—I'll wait as long as you need me to, no matter how long it takes." He meant only to clasp a supportive hand to her shoulder—a purely platonic gesture if a little presumptive—but instead he found himself gathering the frail woman into his arms and nuzzling into her covered hair. The gesture wasn't planned…but he couldn't argue that it didn't feel right. "I'm not giving up on you, Beverly," he promised, noticing how his words made her breathing stutter, her lungs stop.
In his embrace, Beverly floundered—stunned and deliciously so by the long-awaited arms around her, but haunted by the news. He had no idea she was recovering, but why didn't he ask about the call? Once again, she wondered tiredly if he would tire of her with the trials over—once again, she shut down at the idea that his feelings for her might differ between sickness and health.
"I'm not just here because you need me, Bev," Leo professed into her hair, clearly mistaking her tension and the cause. "I'm here because I need to be here—because you're here and that's where I belong. I want to be your reason for getting better." He silently contemplated the flowered hair-scarf covering her hair; he'd never admit it aloud but Leo envied Donatello's ability to nuzzle into Amber's hair at the slightest provocation without worrying she'd think him too forward. Beverly wasn't like Amber…Bev was cool, remote, collected, and entirely too civilized to entertain the entirely uncivilized thoughts running breakneck through his head. He didn't understand it but the slightest whiff of Beverly's scent, the simplest word from her lips, even the briefest glimpse of her ink black hair or molasses-brown eyes could send the most explicit thoughts and yearnings through his mind and body...she made him feel more animal than human, and more carnal than serene. In a way, it frightened him but he couldn't deny how right it felt just the same. "I want to be your reason for fighting this—this illness," he confessed into the silky fabric covering her scalp instead of acknowledging the near-painful pressure building in his groin region. Mind over matter—resist. "…I care about you, Beverly…seeing you like this…" He trailed off, shaking his head at how sappy he sounded, but he held her all the tighter. "I don't want to lose you—not now, not ever."
I need to be here. I want to be your reason for getting better. I want to be your reason for fighting your illness. The words were meant to comfort and reassure her he wasn't leaving, but they instead gave fire to the doubt already plaguing her mind. She was getting better but still, he took it upon himself to carry her around like she was too weak to walk and too feeble to withstand a breeze without toppling over. Now he was holding her close—had wrapped his arms around her and was breathing soft, warm breaths into her covered hair—as though by holding her, he could protect her. But…she didn't need protecting…did she?
Leonardo saved her life that day he found her in the subway station—he got her the help she needed, kept tabs on her, and continued to come visit her every chance he got. The first wasn't so out of character—she knew she wasn't the only damsel in distress he'd ever saved, and she knew he secretly got a kick out of his family's heroics. A hero would've left her in the hospital and moved on; he wouldn't have returned time and time again to make sure she was safe, comfortable, content and being cared for. A hero wouldn't have smothered her with careful affection and protective gestures, pulling out her chair for her and making sure she ate enough…would he? Leonardo was more than the 'name' he once gave her—he was more than her Hogosha—but what that more was, Beverly was afraid to consider.
Lost in thought, she pried herself loose and swept over to the windows to stare through the sheer white drapes down at the street below. Leo stood, and the long piano stool's brass feet shrieked across the hardwood floor at the movement. After a moment of cringing and silently reprimanding himself, he hesitantly approached Beverly, taking up a spot beside her. He was blocked from view by the heavy curtains but able to see around them, and kept his hands to himself. Theoretically, the sheers should hide the occupants of the parlor from prying eyes, but the overhead light was on...he'd seen before just how well a lit room could be seen from the outside, with or without curtains. "Would you feel the same if I wasn't sick?" she asked quietly, considering the endless neon gleaming in the distance. "Would you still care about me if I wasn't—dying?"
A rhetorical question? Very well…he'd humor her. "Of course, I'd feel the same, but does it really matter? You're still sick…you need to focus on your health right now." He didn't notice the fire in her eyes.
Great…he really was just humoring the invalid. Before the abscess, Bev would never have let herself suffer the sort of babying she was now constantly subjected to, and now, that knowledge burned bitterly. "I'm tired," she remarked stiffly, "and you're surely needed back home."
"Not really…?" Leo scrutinized her posture for clues, taken aback by her abrupt change in attitude. "There's no rush getting home—I'm not needed there, and you—"
"I can take care of myself, Hero-boy." She swept away to stare through one of the many framed lithographs on the walls, eyes unseeing and unappreciative. "I managed this long…I'll manage longer, without your help."
Beverly's voice was still cool, precise, and her words still calm, but her tone was clipped and terse. Her shoulders were drawn tight and her spine tense. She wouldn't look at him, wouldn't face him when she spoke to him. She was angry—about what, Leo didn't know, and that not knowing made him worry it was his fault.
"We're leaving tomorrow," he told her instead, watching for her reaction and analyzing every nuance. "Casey's invited us up to the farm for the weekend for a trial trip—he's invited Mercy and Amber, too this time. I—"
He faltered, turning away, thankful she couldn't see the blush streaking across his cheeks or the weariness in his eyes. He wanted to take Beverly and Briallen out to the farm, too. He wanted to see sunlight on Bev's dusky skin and starlight reflecting in her eyes—to hear the wind moaning and sighing in the trees as he and Bev fell asleep in one another's arms—but the time wasn't right. For now, Bev needed regular doses of IV antibiotics and plenty of rest…and honestly, even though Casey no longer treated Amber and Mercy with open suspicion, the gruff vigilante was pretty awkward around the girls. It was hard enough adding those two to the family dynamic…no matter how tempting it was, pushing Bev and Bree on the over-stressed vigilante right then was a bad idea. "I wanted to see you before we left—I wanted to check on you."
"Well, now you've seen me; you needn't worry while you're out of town." She stiffened at his approach, her lungs shuddering at the hand gently smoothing down her tense spine. Careful, skilled fingertips prodded the right pressure points along the way, loosening her shoulders and spine, and urging her to calm.
"I'll always worry about you," Leo admitted, focusing too-hard on relieving the tension in her back. "You're my blind spot, remember? I'll always worry about you—" …even when you're healthy again was the end of the sentence, but Beverly brushed past him to the piano before he could finish it.
"I have a late lesson coming in," she warned. "You'd better head home before you're seen, Hogosha." The nickname held none of its usual affection, coming out more like an accusation.
Leo didn't want to leave—he wanted nothing more than to stay with her!—but the threat of exposure got to him. Pausing only for a gentle squeeze of the shoulder and a kiss on the scalp that made her stiffen, he left, slipping soundlessly out the kitchen window.
Across the street, a shadow skulked at the edge of the roof, pale blue eyes fixed on the scene through the windows of the loft across the way. Though he couldn't hear it, Leo knew the parlor echoed with sniffles and sobbing—the woman collapsed on the antique sofa was shaking too hard to be crying quietly. Moments before, Beverly was stern and cold, almost shoving him out the door; now she slumped in the corner of the fancy brocade-upholstered sofa, weeping into her arms as though her heart was breaking.
What could have changed? What news could the phone call have brought to bring the normally unflappable woman to tears? She was already upset when he found her on the roof, but everything took a turn for the worse when he admitted his promise to wait for her hadn't changed. Perhaps…did she change her mind about him? Could her feelings have changed since they made that promise? His certainly hadn't changed, but humans, as his family had always seen, were fickle creatures—they thrived on change, and couldn't stand being tied to one destiny for their entire lives. But…Beverly was different…right?
A car door slammed nearby—a hybrid pulled into the building's single parking space. Leo begrudgingly tore his eyes from the weeping woman in the parlor to see the expected student for himself, only to be faced instead with Briallen Hardy, home from classes. Beverly never had students after Bree came home…and Bree was, indeed, home. Bev lied about a student coming over just to get him to leave…how that hurt.
In the time the skulking mutant spent staring off into space, Bree climbed the private steps, let herself into the loft, and dropped her belongings off in her room. Right before his eyes, the chipper brunette entered the parlor, found Beverly weeping, and hurried to her side. Though no sound carried to the ninja, he could surmise the situation from their expressions—the sheer curtains were as useless as he expected them to be—Bree was demanding answers and offering to kick the behind of whoever hurt the sick woman.
Bree never really liked Leo much…she probably assumed he was at fault. Was he at fault? What could have driven Beverlyto tears? She was always so calm and collected—the only variations he'd ever seen were her sly playful side and a single instance of cold fury. In this moment, Leo wondered if he really knew Bev as well as he thought he did and if this was a side of her he'd never yet seen.
For a moment, Leo was determined to return to the loft and confront Beverly for lying to him—to demand answers, and do his best to comfort her and mend whatever rift spawned between them—but a small, niggling doubt crept in. Perhaps…could the call have been bad news? Could her lab-work for Dr. Crane have revealed something horrible, maybe that the abscess was no longer simply resisting treatment, but worsening? Could—could Beverly be—be actually dying?!
The very thought horrified Leo, but it wasn't really that unbelievable. Most instances of a patient with a brain abscess span a matter of months—most patients diagnosed with a brain abscess start seeing improvement in their scans in an average of two-and-a-half weeks and are fully recovered in under a year. Beverly's case was unusual—an abscess that went undetected until the worst possible moment due to her frequent migraines, resisted the usual choice antibiotic treatments, and repeatedly worsened despite proper treatment. It wasn't that far-fetched an idea that this extreme infection would take her life…but if she…died…
Forcibly putting it out of his mind—or, at least, he tried—Leonardo stalked away from the edge intent on returning home. Beverly was his blind spot and he was hers, but sometimes having a blind spot can be dangerous, even deadly. The ninja could only hope that he'd someday see a future where Beverly was healthy, happy, and if her heart hadn't changed, his.
"What'd he do?" Briallen demanded, stalking over to yank the drapes shut. "What'd that scum-swilling skunk-bag do to hurt you?!"
"Please, stop it." Bev's efforts to dry her cheeks were futile—the moment those tears were gone, more took their place. She was a mess…no wonder her cousin was worried. "Leo's—he's done nothing wrong." She gave a weak sniffle, gratefully accepting another tissue from her defensive cousin. "I just—I received news from Doctor Crane, and it's—I'm…" Right before her eyes, Bree deflated, her eyes fearfully wide; she automatically assumed the worst, and after so many relapses, Beverly couldn't really blame her.
"It's gone," she admitted hoarsely, unwilling to see the expressions sure to wash over Briallen's face. Oh, so I'm not needed here anymore? Bev was sure that would be the reaction, if not the words spoken. If you're healed and don't need me anymore, I'll just be moving out now—don't mind me jumping for joy! She felt rather ridiculous for her dread—it was, after all, a good change compared to death—but she couldn't shut off her worries.
The upholstery at her side depressed under a tense body; Bree stared at her, warm brown eyes wide and hopeful. "It's…gone?" she parroted back barely above a whisper. "The—the abscess—it's not showing up on the scans anymore?" Bev looked away, her dark eyes drawn to the familiar calligraphy scroll hung above the piano, and nodded. "That—That's wonderful!" A pair of arms wrapped around her middle like a vice, choking her with the owner's exuberance. "You're healing! You're free, we can finally get on with our lives!" Finally…yeah, right…she knew where this was going.
"I'm…sure Michelangelo and his brothers will be happy to help you move," Bev muttered as Bree slowly released her, "whether you're moving in with his family…or…or elsewhere…"
"You're kicking me out?" Beverly turned to address and found Bree not excited but hurt. "I know you won't need me around anymore but...I thought—maybe I could stay anyway..."
"You want to…stay...here?" Bev's fine eyebrows knit in confusion. When Beverly first moved to Brooklyn for college, Bree was still in high school and wanting to change schools; Bev let her younger cousin move in with her and became more of a parental figure than a cousin or sibling. Over the years since Bev and her father joined households with Bree and her father, the two cousins had only ever lived apart one year—the year Bree spent living with her ex-boyfriend Richard before crawling home in pieces. "You're old enough to live on your own now," she reminded her younger cousin in confusion. "You even have a boyfriend you could move in with—"
"Yeah, and we saw how well that went last time," Bree reminded with a half-hearted scowl. "I still have nightmares about Dick coming back for me—you know that—I'm not ready to move in with anyone else again." Before, she was confused, hurt; now she was seeing the situation clearly. "Bevvy, I'm not just here because you need me here; I'm here because I belong here. We're family, and family sticks together in sickness and in health!"
Realization washed over Beverly's face—realization that her fears were unfounded. "I'm no Leo-fan, Sis," Bree reminded taking Bev's leaner hands in her own. "It's in my job description to not be a Leo-fan, but I know he feels the same, and I know Mikey feels the same—we didn't stick around through all this just to cut and run when the going got easy—I didn't stay up all night with you at the hospital just to leave when you don't need a barf bucket anymore." In the beginning, Bree wadded herself up into the tiny window seat of Bev's hospital room instead of going home, afraid Beverly might take a turn for the worse in her absence, but now she beamed. "We're staying. Until you don't want us anymore, we're all staying…and we might stick around even then just to spite you."
Perhaps, Beverly wondered as her cousin held her, healing wouldn't change everything…perhaps she was just so used to being sick that she forgot how to be well. Change could be frightening, but did this one really spell disaster? By the time Bree let her go, the weary woman was calming and lost in her thoughts.
Unnoticed by her ruminating older cousin, Bree ducked into the kitchen, made a quick call to Mikey, and started pulling down rarely used long-stemmed glasses from the china cabinet. After tidying up the small kitchen and unlatching the window, she leaned back against the sill and contemplated the tall bottle of red wine at the top of their bottle rack. She bought that bottle when Bev first got her diagnosis; it was higher quality than they were used to and far more expensive than Bev would ever have bought without a special occasion. She ate noodles for lunch for a month to make up the cost so Beverly wouldn't worry, but it was worth every penny. Ever since then, the bottle waited atop the wine-rack, saved for the day when Bev finally got the all-clear from her doctors. That day had come…it was time to celebrate.
Bree bustled into the parlor still unnoticed, stepping over the whining Labrador to reach Beverly, and offered her hands. "Come on—why don't you go get a shower, I'll handle dinner."
"But...Leo..." Beverly sighed, and her hands drifted up to straighten her scarf. "I thought—he's surely hurt…I should call him. I should—" Bree grounded her in the moment with both hands at her shoulders and an encouraging, almost impish, smile.
"I'll handle Leo, Bev," she promised. "I called the others over. You can apologize in person once you've cleaned up…and you do need to apologize to him." Bree clapped Bev's shoulder, her smile widening. "Leo didn't know you before all this started but he's always wanted to know you after it's over; now it's finally over, and you don't have any excuse to push him away."
The last statement froze Beverly in place, and she turned a horrified cringe to Bree. The younger woman winked at her, cementing Bev's suspicion. Who told her about Bev and Leo's agreement? "Go get yourself lookin' good, Girl," Bree teased. "Let the mutant sweat it out a little—he's been a butt lately." Of course, according to Bree, Leo was always a butt. Nevertheless, Bev gave a weak smile and wandered into her bedroom to grab some clean clothes to change into after her shower.
The last item on her list—a clean hair-scarf—made her freeze in place, hesitating and considering. The drawer standing open and a new silk scarf right at her fingertips, Beverly stood silently, wondering and ruminating. Finally, she shut the drawer without ever pulling a new scarf out, and peeled the last from her hair and tossed it into the hamper. She still had a bald spot and some pretty noticeable scars on the back of her head but she was tired of being ruled by them—tired of hiding a flaw everyone already knew was there. Leo never gave her any sign that it bothered him.
Perhaps…perhaps it was time to move on from that fear. Perhaps it was time to finally let her hair down.
"We got here as quickly as we could," Donatello apologized to Bree as he hopped down from the windowsill. Already, Raphael and their father were in the parlor with Michelangelo and inspecting the Hardys' vast collection of artwork and prints. Leonardo stood up on the rooftop, watching carefully as Mercy and Amber made their way from the Party Wagon to the stairs. "The girls should be—" A knock at the front door cut him off. "—right outside," he finished with a shrug.
Bree rushed through to the front door and let in the other two women. She immediately found herself receiving an exhuberant hug from the braided other-worlder and a companionable tease from the blonde laden with a stack of pizza boxes. "I brought the good stuff!" Amber proclaimed excitedly holding up two brown bottles—one said Drambuie on the label, while the other was Beverly's favorite brand of bourbon. Clearly the girls dropped by the liquor store on the way there. A plastic bag hung from one of Amber's wrists, weighed down by what resembled a couple of two-liter bottles of soda.
"Screw that shit," Mercy grumbled hauling the stack of pizza boxes to the kitchen. "I brought the good stuff—the food. Hey, Bosco, how-zit hangin'?"
A short while after, Beverly emerged from her bedroom smiling and more confident, and the cousins finally cracked open the expensive 'Bev's healed' wine. Mikey was stunned silent at seeing her hair down, loose and styled, and her scalp completely free of any sort of covering, but he didn't confront her about it - he just grinned, hugged her, offered his arm, and led her into the parlor to join the others.
All through the impromptu dinner and the repeated congratulations and well-wishes, though, Beverly couldn't help but notice one face was missing from the crowd—one pair of eyes, ice blue and intense, wasn't watching her from across the room as though worried she would wind up on the floor. Leonardo was missing—for whatever reason, he wasn't with his family in the laughter-filled loft—and Beverly knew without a doubt it was her fault. Every now and then, one of the brothers would glance down the hall toward the roof access door as if willing the leader to show his face. Finally, fed up with waiting for him to come to her, Bev smiled an apology to Master Splinter and excused herself from the room. She paused only long enough to grab her favorite fringed shawl from the hall closet then ducked through the door beside it. With a deep, steadying breath, she grabbed hold of Bosco's harness and mounted the steps in search of her absent hero.
There he was—her blind spot, her Hogosha, her reason for reason—he stood at the edge of the roof by the café table and chairs just as she had earlier in the day, staring out across the city in silence. Whereas she always stood there in wonder, calmed by the night winds and captivated by bustle of the streets below, Leonardo was tense as though he expected a surprise attack. Perhaps, Beverly admitted silently, he was used to that; perhaps he really did have to be always on guard anytime he was out in the open. She couldn't imagine living like that and wondered how he'd managed it so long, so well.
"I know you're there." The words startled her and she lost her grip on the roof door; it swung the rest of the way shut, the latch clicking with a fearful finality. Bosco, no longer concerned his owner might fall back down the stairs, wriggled free and bounded across the graveled rooftop to Leo, dancing in place for attention. Bosco really wasn't up to par for a service dog, but he was more than enough for Bev.
Clearly glad to see the dog, but not quite as excited as the dog was to see him, Leo crouched to give Bosco the attention he wanted. Ordinarily deadly hands rubbed the animal's sides, thumped his ribs and patted his behind; callused fingers brushed his floppy ears, and thick nails scratched all the right spots, rendering Bosco a happy, groaning puddle of fur. Rubbing Bosco's ears between his fingers and thumbs—the exact blend of rough and gentle capable of sending a dog spastic with joy—Leo turned ice blue eyes to the woman standing frozen by the door. "It's a nice night," the ninja commented, startling Bev out of her ruminations.
"Y-Yes," she agreed slowly approaching him and slipping the shawl around her arms on the way. "It's not too cold yet, but the night's barely begun—it's liable to get colder, later." 'Really eloquent, Beverly Anne,' she thought with a cringe. 'Did you say "cold" enough times?' For a time, they simply sat in silence and stared above, looking for stars—one sprawled out on the gravel next to Bosco, the other seated primly on one of the metal chairs—both wondering what to say. Finally, the silence was broken, but not how Beverly expected it to be broken.
"My family and I have spent our whole lives underground." Leo's voice was low, solemn and sober, and his eyes were tired. "We cannot live aboveground…we can hardly even go aboveground without being in danger. At first, my brothers and I were forbidden from ever leaving the sewers—grounded to the underground to keep us safe—but eventually, we disobeyed." He kept his eyes on the stars instead of her, but Beverly watched him closely, astounded by the range of emotion running unhidden across his normally stoic face. This was the Leo she always knew was there—the Leo she only ever saw when they were alone—did he really only allow himself to be so vulnerable around her? "When Father found out we broke that rule, he was furious…and afraid. After we proved ourselves capable he finally gave us leave to go aboveground but only so long as we kept one another safe. It was several years ago, but he still gets nervous when we go out for patrols…he still stays up until we come home, and still can't sleep until he knows we've returned safely."
"He really worries about you." Leo hesitated but finally turned to address her.
"Worry comes with love," he pointed out. "He loves us, so he worries about us. It's completely illogical, but it's in the nature of sentient beings. It's only natural for us to dislike change as well, to fear it, but change is the only constant in life—the only certainty we can be sure of. Change is neither good nor bad—it simply is."
"Change…can be frightening." Bev broke eye contact to stare down at street below. Without her notice the ninja stood and sidled over to her, crouching before her. When she turned to him again, intent on asking something, she startled at seeing Leo's face so close to her own, his pale blue eyes fixed on hers.
"Change can be frightening." Leo tucked a fallen curl of hair behind her ear, lingering at her cheek. "...so is having a blind spot." The air crackled with tension unheard and unseen by the mutant or his human companion. Even without seeing or hearing that tension, though, they felt it—felt it as surely as though some unknown presence was gently trailing its fingertips up their spines. So often before, Beverly found herself lost in the realization of how intense Leo's eyes could be and wondered what it would be like to find herself on the receiving end of those eyes, not as a friend, but as a lover. Now, that very pair of eyes was fixed on her, intense and full of intent, and she wasn't quite sure if she was still breathing. Not a scrap of clothing out of place, and she felt completely naked.
"I know what my brothers told me," he remarked, effortlessly squatting on the gravel-strewn concrete, "but I want to hear it from you. I didn't push you earlier because I didn't want to upset you if it was bad news…but I need to know…I need to hear it from you…" Beverly choked, breaking the nerve-wracking eye contact and turning to stare at the wrought iron and glass table next to her. Callused, still-bandaged fingers caught her by the chin, gently urging her back to meet his eyes again then sliding up to cup her cheek. "Please, koibito…I need to hear it from you."•
Beverly couldn't find the words to speak—she couldn't get her lips to move or her tongue untied—but finally, she managed to calm the entirely uncivilized thoughts Leonardo's touch elicited in her. One of these days, she really needed to look up the meanings of the many foreign pet-names he'd pinned on her. "It's over," she admitted softly, and as though that one admission had held her hostage, she felt her lips tug into a beaming smile. "The scans are clear…I'm healing, Ho—" The nickname was cut short at the careful brushing of a work-roughened thumb tracing her lower lip. Shallow breaths passed unhindered through Bev's parted lips, but she was too distracted by Leo's eyes and her racing heart to feel like an idiot for sitting there gaping like a trout.
"Leonardo," he corrected just as he had the night she finally saw him, but this time, he traced her lips instead of brushing soot off her cheek. There was no soot on her cheek this time, after all, and they were beyond that careful distance. "My name isn't Hogosha—it's Leonardo." Before she could argue—make a point about nicknames—the hand cupping her cheek slid back into her hair and the man kneeling at her feet leaned in, easing her closer.
After almost a year of fighting to keep her hands off of him, the first brush of his lips on hers felt like coming home after a long, miserable journey. The kiss - their first kiss, Beverly realized with watering eyes - was chaste, hesitant as though Leo expected her to slap him for it, and ended far too quickly for Bev's taste. As the ninja leaned back on his heels, focusing on calming his racing heart, Beverly licked her lips silently; underneath the peppermint of her lip balm, she could taste something new and very much welcome—traces of tea, salt, and an indescribable sweetness that was purely him. "Leonardo." At his name, he startled back to himself, meeting her eyes again and on-edge; smug for having so unsettled him, Beverly latched onto one of the leather straps crisscrossing his plastron and pulled him back into her arms. "Leo…" Finally, whether from the utterances of his name or her insistent touches, Leo gave in—he took Beverly into his arms and stole her lips, losing himself in the taste, scent, and sensation of her.
Alone on the rooftop, Leo and Beverly became entangled in one another—arms enfolding, hands grasping and caressing, lips meeting and entwining—from the moment he found her to this day, he kept his distance and she kept hers. They were tired of distance, of always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now they were sure what their hearts were always telling them, and that was that they were never really that different after all.
Finally, Leo pulled back, determined to be the stronger person even as he held her to his chest. "You're finally healing, Beverly," he acknowledged, breathless from the woman sneakily trailing kisses along his bare shoulder. From the very beginning, Beverly had a knack for getting him off-balance, and the lips brushing his neck were accomplishing that with ease. Still, this wasn't the time or place…when that time came, he didn't want to experience her on an open rooftop in the cold with Bosco snoring nearby. No…when the time came for him to make that stubborn, confusing woman his, he wanted them both to be ready and entirely alone.
Physically shaking off the explicit thoughts and instinctual urges, he leaned away from Bev, meeting her eyes with a small smile. "You wanted to wait," he reminded admiring how desire made her already dark brown eyes seem even darker, "at least until you were healing. You're healing now…do you still want to—" A pair of lips latched onto his silencing the question with a strangled "hmmf!" When they parted Beverly's eyes dropped to the lips she just stole then rose back up to meet Leo's eyes, a familiar sly smirk splitting her own.
"I'm tired of waiting, Hero-boy," she teased, finally feeling more like herself. "We should probably get back to the others, though, before they assume we're otherwise engaged."
Leo dropped his head into his hand with a frustrated groan. "Raph and Mercy are going to have a field day; they've become a tag-team to be feared." He helped Beverly to her feet, already dreading the taunting to come.
"I'm sure you'll manage." Leo shook Bosco awake only to get growled at; after voicing his protest, the dog stretched and slunk toward the door, plopped down on his haunches, and turned back to fix a sullen glare on Leo. Leo didn't even notice.
"You're not the one who has to go home with them," Leo reminded Bev. "I'll never hear the end of this." For a moment, Beverly faltered, nervously glancing over at the mutant walking alongside her through the rows of vacant planters. "It's still worth it." The admission drew her eyes up to meet his, and his wide, boyish smile soothed her worries. "You're worth it." As he did earlier that night, Leo squeezed her shoulder in warning and swept her up into his arms bridal style intent on carrying her back downstairs.
At first, Beverly was annoyed by this—saw it as him pointing out her weakness and implying that she couldn't make it on her own—but a gentle nuzzle into her unbound hair soothed that hurt and made her see things in a different light. Leo insisted on helping her, insisted on carrying her around, not because he thought she couldn't do it herself, but because he wanted to show her that he cared about her. He couldn't help with what she really needed help with—he couldn't help with her students, couldn't manage the tenants renting the store downstairs or make needed repairs to the building, and he couldn't help Beverly run the errands—but he was strong enough to catch her should she fall and skilled enough to protect her should she need it. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing to let him help her…perhaps it wouldn't hurt to let the overprotective ninja baby her now and then.
Catcalls and whistles rang out when they made it back to the parlor, but Leo didn't put her down. Instead, he carried her over to her favorite chair, eased her down to the cushions, and ducked into the kitchen while the ruckus continued. Shortly afterward, he returned bearing two plates of pizza and a long-stemmed glass of the celebratory red wine. It seemed the whole room was watching them, now, and Bev could feel her cheeks heating up. Finally, the long, awkward staring contest ended with Leo standing beside her chair, leaning against the wall like a bodyguard. For so long, Beverly felt like it meant he thought her weak, or that he wanted to keep her all to himself; now she could see it was just the ninja's way of showing he cared for her.
The wine, bourbon, Scotch, and soda bottles were passed around again, and the stoic leader finally followed Splinter's example and accepted a couple fingers of wine. Someone, probably Mikey, called for a toast. Several voices called out a kanpai!• One declared something gruff and slurred from brogue Beverly could only interpret as "Slanj'-uh va'!"• Finally, all attention turned to the purely American revelers, and Beverly cleared her throat and recited something she once heard her father say.
"Oh, Lord God divine who turned the water into wine," she repeated with a mischievous gleam in her eye, "please forgive us foolish men—soon we'll turn it back again." Amber choked on a sip of Drambuie and commenced beating it out of her lungs, but other than Bree, the rest of the room's occupants were too engaged in staring at Beverly in disbelief to assist. Mischief managed, Bev saluted the gathered company with her wine glass. "Here's to good company, and to you people, too." The silence as she took a dainty sip of her wine was deafening, but that silence made the responding chuckle all the more apparent. A strong three-fingered hand took up a comforting grip on her shoulder, and despite all the eyes on her, Beverly reached up to cover it with her own.
She spent quite long enough working around her blind spot; it was time to start working with him instead.
UP NEXT: there's something weird going on here in Freaky Dreams and the Farmhouse
Glossary
•Koishii – Japanese term of endearment. Through research I've found the following as possible meanings: Beloved, Darling, Dear, and Wanted.
•Koibito – Japanese term of endearment. Through web research, I've found the following as possible meanings: Lover and Sweetheart.
•Kanpai – Japanese toast
•Slanj'-uh va' – Proper spelling "Slàinte mhath." Scottish toast, means basically "Good health!" This and pronunciation based on web research so might be incorrect.
Notes
Hogosha – In case anyone's forgotten or hasn't seen the first Bay-verse movie, this is a Bay-verse term first applied to April by Splinter, supposedly meaning 'a great guardian spirit.'
Regarding Bev and Bree – There may be some confusion regarding Beverly and Briallen Hardy's relationship. Their fathers are brothers, so Bev and Bree are first cousins—Bev is twenty-five, Bree is twenty-two. Bree's mother died and her father never remarried; Bev's parents are divorced and her mother is not in her life. After the divorce the two families combined so the girls were raised as sisters.
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