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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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Inquisition
Raphael contemplated the petite woman lying across the back seat and wondered why this particular one held such an intense attraction for him. She wasn't the first beautiful woman he ever encountered. He interacted with quite a few while on patrol, saving them from some nasty, unspeakable fates.
None of them ever captured his attention.
Of course, it didn't help that his usual M.O. was to cut and run as soon as he finished the job. Still, April connected with him and she was sure pretty enough. But she didn't hold even a tenth of the draw for him as this tiny one. The nearer he got to her the more powerful the pull became. Donatello would probably compare it to gravity.
Even now, seated only a few feet away from her, he wanted to be closer. It was a strange, unnerving, sensation. As compelling as it was, he couldn't see a benefit to it and under closer scrutiny it seemed a lot like a weakness he shouldn't give in to.
But he couldn't dispel it either.
For a while Raphael kept himself in place. As long as he ran a watchful eye over her, he could stay put. She was certainly easy to keep his eyes on. Her hair came loose sometime during their trip over the rooftops, and she lost her ribbons. Now, her silky curls spread out around her head like a halo.
Her outfit for this evening revealed far more than the lumpy overcoat he saw her in previously. The black velvet of her gown clung to her silhouette revealing soft curves, a generous portion of which were on display. Despite her petite stature, she was a rather fully endowed young woman.
His eyes flashed as he remembered the rich feel of the material of her dress and the firm supple form underneath as he carried her across the rooftops. He shook his head roughly. He had no business thinking such things.
In an effort to be a gentleman, even though she slept, he diverted his gaze to the broach at her neckline. His eyes narrowed as he tried to make out the small piece of jewelry from his chair.
A turtle! Beautifully wrought with an inlaid shell and ruby eyes. She liked turtles.
What were the odds?
Donnie could tell him but would knowing make a difference? Just because she appreciated regular turtles didn't mean she wanted to meet a walking, talking one. Much less befriend one.
Finding a friend in April had been a one-off chance. Master Splinter explained long ago there were not gonna be many chicks who would overlook their mutant bodies and underground living conditions to get close to them. Of course he used different language, but Raph got the idea.
Like anyone would want to get close to me anyway.
He shook his head at himself and closed his eyes so he wouldn't keep staring at her.
Why am I even thinking about this?
The memory of her smile floated behind his eyelids in answer and he snorted mirthlessly. One smile on a rooftop shouldn't have affected him so deeply. Especially since it wasn't even directed at him. She hadn't even known he existed.
Suddenly, the angel stirred and moaned a little in her unconscious state. She lifted one hand to her forehead in pain. Raphael knelt next to her without having consciously thought about moving.
"What's wrong?" he muttered gruffly under his breath as he examined her, setting her arm back on the seat.
He didn't dare to raise her eyelids to check her pupils the way Don did. All he saw was she was still out. He didn't have the experience to guess at any more than that. She probably got a headache from the gas. He sighed, frustrated. He was the wrong one to leave with her.
Donnie would've been able to tell if she was ok. Don could resist her pull.
Raphael could not.
What is it about her?
Here he was, independent, strong, and capable; reduced to sitting on his haunches next a girl who didn't know him and wasn't even conscious. Worryin' cause she moaned a bit in her sleep.
Still, he wracked his brain for anything to make her more comfortable. She looked even paler than before, though he hadn't thought possible until now. He reached out and smoothed the pretty scarf she wore out of the tangle around her and tentatively pushed back some wayward strands of hair.
His hand accidentally brushed against her skin and it was icy under his fingertips. He laid the back of his hand delicately on her forehead. She was freezing.
She shivered and he cursed himself for forgetting with the engine off the interior of the cab would be getting colder. He was dressed for the weather. She was not. He grabbed her shawl and covered her arms, but it wasn't enough. Her shivering became more violent and her teeth began to chatter.
He looked around a little desperately for something, anything, else to use. Seeing nothing to hand, Raph shrugged out of his down coat and wrapped her in it, growling curses under his breath the whole time.
The cold air made him flinch, but he ignored the sensation, concentrating on making sure his huge jacket enveloped the girl fully. She practically disappeared inside the thick folds.
Annoyed, he checked the time and discovered twenty minutes gone. This was taking too long. The angel was suffering. He tapped his headset.
"You guys ready? We can't sit out here much longer," he said.
"The building's clear," Leo said. "Bring her up, Raph."
Raphael turned back to the girl and slid his arms underneath her bundled form. She weighed next to nothing, even with the added bulk of his coat and it wasn't any trouble at all to hold her cradled in one arm as he jumped to the lower level of the fire escape before ascending to April's apartment.
April answered his soft tap at the window. His brothers nowhere in sight.
"They're on the roof," she said, anticipating his question. "The room's ready. Down the hall, all the way at the back."
Raph grunted in acknowledgment and strode through. He'd been here often enough to know his way around. He pushed the door to the guest room open with his foot and laid the girl gingerly on the bed.
He began to unwrap her gently when she groaned in protest and wrapped her arms around the puffy material, holding it close and burying her face in its depths. He paused, not wanting to wake her and uncertain how to proceed. Slowly, bit by bit, he slid the coat out of her grasp.
When it was finally free, he pulled the covers up over her and, greatly daring, laid his hand tenderly against her cheek. The contrast between them was starkly apparent. The whole side of her face fit into his palm and his dark green tone appeared alien against her snow white skin. He withdrew his hand quickly.
What had come over him? He had no right to touch her. Grimacing he backed toward the door, unable to tear his eyes away. He stood staring at her face in the light from the hallway for a long time. Eventually, he had to move, or his brothers would wonder at his absence.
"Good-night, Angel," he whispered and shut the door.

The rooftop was freezing and covered with a dusting of powdery whiteness as Raph topped the fire escape to rejoin his family, incredibly glad he reclaimed his winter gear. Leo and Don busied themselves setting up perimeter lasers along the edges of nearby buildings and rigging them to one of Don's numerous tablets. Mikey used another tablet to review footage from the security cameras at the Vallen building, at least up until the power went out.
Raph grunted as he looked over Mikey's shoulder, watching as his younger brother's hand skipped across the pad with practiced ease, scrolling through the dozens of feeds and searching for the Dragons' point of entry.
"Ah-ha! Guys, they came in from the subway!" Mikey said in a loud stage whisper waving the tablet above his head.
"Wasn't there security?" Leo asked.
Raph grabbed the device, ignoring the disparaging look Mikey gave him and rewound the feed. Ten minutes before the attack, the human guards simply got up and walked away.
"Damn them!" Raph said through clenched teeth. "It was an inside job."
Mikey stole the tablet back and raced across the open space to show Leo as Raph began to pace. He fumed and stamped through the snow. He still had a lot of anxious, pent-up energy and the short skirmish earlier hadn't done anything but whet his appetite for violence.
He stomped along the roofline, grumbling to himself as he surveyed the street below and the surrounding alleyways. Maybe he and Casey should head out for an old fashioned night of busting heads. That always calmed him down.
As long as Emma is safe here.
Where had that thought come from? Since when did he let humans qualify his actions? Aside from April and Case of course. He stopped a moment and considered. This girl was creeping into his mind and he didn't like it, not one little bit.
"We done here?" he asked Leo.
At the leader's nod, he turned and headed for the garage where Casey kept his gear, waving at his brothers as he dashed away across the rooftops. Case wasn't downstairs, so he was either working on his bikes or already out trollin' for trouble. Either pastime would suit Raph down to the toes.

Saturday morning. Or was it afternoon? Whenever it was Morgan was not ready to open her eyes. She rolled over in bed and muttered darkly to herself under her breath about the amount of alcohol she consumed the previous night. She hadn't over indulged like that since college and if the tang in the back of her throat was anything to go by, she hadn't limited herself to wine. An unpleasant kind of chemically metallic flavor lingered.
She didn't remember how she arrived home and she suffered this horrible anxiety dream about the party being attacked. The dream was so vibrant, she began to suspect foul play, wondering if someone drugged one of her drinks.
She prepared to drag herself out of bed, determined to make something of the day despite her hangover when she realized the sheet wrapped around her was entirely wrong. She always used unscented fabric softener on her laundry to spare her sensitive nose. These were lavender.
Confused, she checked her clothes, running a hand over her front under the covers. She was dressed in the black velvet from last night. She still had her shoes on for Pete's sake.
Memories came back to her in a rush.
The party had been attacked. She and April escaped the ballroom and they almost got away, but someone had seen them in the final hall. A group of men grabbed them and...
Someone had intervened.
Violently.
She shuddered at the memory, the sound of fists connecting with flesh still strong in her ears. It triggered another anxiety attack and horrified her yet again. But, who won?
All Morgan remembered was a horrible scent, then... nothing.
Her head throbbed again as she pummeled her brain ruthlessly for more information. Where was she? How did she get here? And most importantly did this whole business involve Charlie?
She struggled to remember details or sensations from last night that might tell her where she ended up. Cold sprang to mind. A cold so intense she shivered, even though the room was warm.
Okay Morgan, focus. What else can you recall?
Her head had hurt something fierce and she remembered a light cloth being tossed over her, but it hadn't helped with the icy chill. Shortly thereafter, she'd been wrapped in something substantially warmer. Another memory surfaced.
That something had smelled wonderful.
She couldn't describe the fragrance exactly. It wasn't cologne, she couldn't stand that. Not after Charlie. No, this was much more natural. Somewhat spicy, but not like any individual one she could name. More like when you open the door to the cupboard and inhale all the aromas at once. It had also been a little smoky, like wood smoke rather than the cigarette variety.
Altogether it was the most amazing scent she had ever come across. It soothed her aching head and warmed her up substantially. Whatever it was, it made her feel... Safe.
Something she hadn't experienced in a long time.
Next she'd been flying. That must have been a dream. Nothing in reality could produce that sensation of weightlessness and rushing air. She'd most likely passed out again and her dreams mixed with her memories.
Somehow she ended up in bed. She could have gone home with April and be in a friendly situation. She could have been kidnaped and be a hostage. She couldn't say with certainty what occurred and that left her in some dire straights.
All she truly knew was she was not at home, which meant two things. She didn't know a way to escape and she hadn't checked in with her agents.
A city-wide manhunt might be going on for her right now.
Morgan rolled to her back, feigning sleep, and stretched all her senses to determine if she was alone. The air in the room, warm and still, must be radiant heat. She listened but decided no one else was present. The door remained closed and she heard no echoes from elsewhere.
A small hiss drew her attention to the left and helped her locate a radiator. Rads were usually placed under windows in the older buildings. If there was a window in here, maybe there was a fire escape as well.
Morgan slipped out of the bed and moved toward the hiss until the warmth hit her legs. Holding her breath in anticipation, she stretched her hand out and gave a silent cheer when she touched cold glass. The window was exactly where it was supposed to be. She fumbled a moment with the locks but managed to raise the sash, letting in a gust of chill wind which rattled the door and gave her goosebumps.
The sounds of traffic rose up around her. A few horns blared and she winced at the noise, her head pounding in time with her heart.
I'm still in the city.
By the sound, she was at least three stories up if not four. She stuck her hand out the window and searched all around for a railing or a floor.
Drat. No fire escape here.
She pulled her hand back in and shut the window, forcing her tired body to move, even though she wanted to lay back down. She turned right and counted her steps until she reached the end wall. She found a dresser and, amazingly, the rest of her things as well.
Her heart raced as she snatched up her tiny purse and dug frantically for her phone. She'd call Martin, the FBI agent assigned to her. He could track her and come to her rescue in no time.
Disappointment hit her hard, as she realized the phone wasn't present. Of course not. Why would they make it easy? Sighing, she put her purse back on the dresser and fumbled across the room until she found the door. She pressed her ear against it and listened intently.
Footsteps. Someone's coming!
Morgan gasped and dove for the bed, pulling the covers up over her shoulders and pretending to be asleep. Hard to do with all the adrenaline pumping through her system.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
"Emma?" April's voice called. "Are you awake?"
Morgan started.
April? Was she a prisoner? Or was she a part of this?
The door cracked open and April stuck her head through.
"Emma? I brought some tea," April said, entering the room and putting a tray on the dresser. "Do you have a headache?"
"April," Morgan said, her tone low and urgent, "are we alone? Are those goons here somewhere? Where are we?"
"What?" April said, surprised. She lowered her voice in response to the other girl's whisper. "Why would there be anyone else here? We're in my apartment."
Morgan sat up in the bed, feeling a little foolish for her assumption about being in enemy territory.
"We weren't kidnaped from the party?" Morgan asked, still uncertain.
April laughed.
"It was a little harrowing, but we managed to get out," April said. "You collapsed in the hallway on the way to the stairs, but a friend of mine showed up and helped me carry you."
Morgan blushed to the roots of her hair.
"I'm so sorry April! I swear I didn't have that much to drink." Morgan said.
"No worries," April said. "Everything turned out ok."
"Might not have..." Morgan said under her breath, shaking her head.
That was a mistake, the room spun for a moment and Morgan held absolutely still until her throbbing head, and stomach, settled again.
"So, tea?" April asked.
"Yes, please," Morgan said, trying to get over the adrenaline still flowing through her. Fight or flight wasn't needed anymore. Or was it?
Morgan remembered April's friend mentioned the Foot. Perhaps Miss O'Neil was not as innocent as she seemed. But how to inquire without giving away her own secret? And speaking of that, if she didn't check in with Martin soon, all hell was gonna break loose.
"April, do you know what happened to my phone?" Morgan asked.
"Um, It might be in the living room. Your purse dumped on the floor when we came in. Sorry if I didn't get it back in," April said, thinking fast as she remembered Don rummaging through Emma's things last night.
"Oh," Morgan said, taken off guard by this reasonable answer.
Morgan, you are entirely too suspicious of everything.
"I'll go look," April said and darted out as Emma sipped from her cup.
The drink, hot and reviving, felt fantastic going down. It was some kind of green tea and it did remarkable, healing things for her head and stomach. She'd never had a hangover clear so fast.
April came back in a few minutes, phone in hand.
"Hiding under the sofa," she announced, handing Emma the device.
April hated to lie to the girl, but some secrets had to be kept. Donatello plugged it into his laptop last night and declared it squeaky clean. Not so much as a deleted photo for him to examine, but he'd cloned the phone anyway. He also put a small tracking device inside so he could locate her even if the phone got turned off.
April sighed. She didn't like spying on the girl. She preferred finding out information the old fashioned way. Good thing she had a lot of experience asking tough questions. She pondered the best way to begin what would likely become an inquisition, but Emma interrupted her thoughts.
"I have to make a quick call," she said.
Morgan wanted to call Martin, but that would require a lot more explaining than she wanted to do in front of April. So instead, she dialed the number of a message service where she updated her location when plans changed. Not exactly checking in, but it would have to do.
She waited for the beep.
"Hi," she said to the machine. "Sorry I didn't call you last night. The party turned out a lot differently than I planned. I ended up having a great girl's night with a new friend and stayed over at her place. I'm still here," she covered the receiver and turned to April, batting her eyes innocently, "Where are we?"
"9th and Bleecker."
Morgan turned back to the phone. "Lower west side-ish I guess, I'll be home soon and I'll call you later. Bye," she hung up.
"Boyfriend?" April asked, hoping to start a more revealing conversation. "You didn't want to tell him about the party crashers?"
Morgan shrugged. It seemed the easiest explanation for now.
"He worries," she said smiling. "I call almost every night. If I don't he imagines all sorts of bad things. Totally paranoid. I don't want to give him any more ammunition."
Morgan thought that would be enough to explain any strange "checking in" type phone calls she might need to make in front of April in the future. April nodded sagely.
"Does he live in the city too?" she prodded.
"He works here," Morgan improvised, "but he lives in the suburbs."
Keep things vague, she reminded herself.
"Did you move here for him?" April asked.
"No. I met him after I came here. About six months ago. He's nice enough, but it's not all that serious."
April raised a brow. A boyfriend who wasn't that serious but required her to check in? That didn't sound like a healthy relationship. Not that it was any of her business, as long as he wasn't associated with the Dragons or the Foot. Still, Emma was a sweet girl. One who didn't need a tyrant taking advantage of her. Maybe she could give the girl an out if she needed one.
"Well, you can crash here anytime you need a break from the crazy. I know how those types can be. Charming one minute and completely overbearing the next," April said.
Morgan's head snapped up. That described her former relationship with Charlie a little too closely for comfort. It started out innocently enough and ended in nightmare. And at one point, Sam had said almost exactly the same thing to her.
This time she didn't feel it coming and couldn't fight it off. Memory rose in her mind like a tidal wave and swept her away from the present.

A few months into her L.A. adventure found Morgan sitting alone in a coffee shop after yet another failed interview. She liked it here. The scents and the hustle and bustle of the many patrons of the cafe made her feel like she was actually part of something bigger than herself. Usually, it cheered her up, but not today. Moving to the big city had been the pinnacle of her dreams, but if she didn't find a position soon she wouldn't be able to stay much longer.
Suddenly, a man approached her table and asked to join her. Morgan agreed. While she thought this a little unusual, the cafe was crowded and she was new to the 'big city'. If sharing a table was commonplace here, she'd be rude to refuse.
They exchanged some pleasant small talk and she began to relax. So much so, she discreetly mentioned her job hunt, bemoaning how hard it was to find decent employment these days. Turned out, the guy had been looking for a personal assistant and was overjoyed to find her qualified for the position.
She'd been out of work for months and her savings were running low, so she took the job, no questions asked.
Charles, or Charlie as he preferred to be called in private, was an entrepreneur who owned a large business and Morgan excelled as his assistant. Charismatic and suave, Charlie was the type of person who got stuff done and it wasn't too long before things heated up between them.
Sam tried to warn her, but Morgan had been so caught up in the adventure of the affair a lot of red flags and warning bells went unnoticed. Until one day, she woke up with no life to speak of. Charlie became overbearing and demanded all her waking moments. She no longer had choices or options.
That's when she began to find out what Charlie's personality truly was and what kind of business he was really running.

"Emma? Emma?"
April shook her by the shoulders and called her name. Morgan blinked and shuddered, forcing her mind back to the present. She hated these moments when memory overwhelmed her and she was lost to the past.
"April?" Morgan put out her hands to stop the shaking. "Sorry, I guess I zoned out for a minute. I must still be hungover."
Morgan tried to shrug off her friend's concern with a little joke and a smile.
"Emma, you screamed and cried!" April said, her tone worried.
"I- I did?" Morgan scrambled out of the bed.
She touched her cheeks and found them wet. Her eyes felt swollen. She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat and tried to think up some viable excuse for her behavior. Post-traumatic stress over Charlie was not something she wanted to explain. To anyone.
"I must have passed out again and freaked about the attack last night," Morgan said.
She grabbed her purse from the dresser and her phone off the bed.
"Listen April. Please don't take this wrong. I'm grateful to you, and your friend, for pulling me out last night but I need to get home. I need to collapse and sleep this off," Morgan said. She rushed through the words as if saying them faster would make them more palatable.
Before April could respond, she stepped around her and out the bedroom door. She fled down the hall, one hand trailing along the wall but stopped when it ended.
"You don't have to go," April said, coming up behind her and putting a hand on her shoulder. "I don't mind the company and I'm a little shook up myself."
Morgan whirled to face her, shuddering again, and knocked April's hand away.
"Don't touch me!"
After those memories, she couldn't stand anyone behind her, much less physically laying a hand on her. It took days to get over that.
April drew back in alarm and studied her face. Morgan flushed.
"I'm sorry, April. I really just need some familiar surroundings," Morgan stammered.
"Ok," April said, "Let me grab my keys and I'll drive you home."
She didn't think the guys would like it much, but she couldn't keep the girl prisoner. At least if she took Emma home, they might be able to put up some cameras around the girls apartment building.
"N-no," Morgan said. "You're upset too. You should stay in. I'll get a cab."
"But-"
"No buts, April, I'm headed home."
In the end, Morgan allowed April to call a taxi to pick her up at the door. She waited until the driver pulled away before she gave him the address of a shop a few blocks away from Angel Automotive Insurance. If someone called the cab company about her drop off location, they wouldn't get her home or work.
As the cab headed uptown, Morgan struggled to stay focused on the present. She took several deep breaths, wrapped her shawl tight around her shoulders, and tried to pay attention to the throng of humanity surrounding her.
It wasn't working.
She took her phone out of her purse to distract herself and turned it over and over in her hands. She frowned. It felt off for some reason. Heavier?
Panic seized her mind as paranoia kicked in. She turned the phone on and clicked through the settings until she found the reset option. She cleared it, deleting what little data she had, turned it off, and tried to wipe away all her fingerprints with the edge of her scarf. That accomplished, she reached underneath herself and shoved the phone into the crack of the seat, wedged way back. If someone tracked it, they could follow this cab all over the city.
She tapped on the glass and redirected the cabby to Rockefeller Center. She'd get out in a tourist area, and make her way home on the subway.
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Whispers in the Dark