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The Containment Clause	By : hummerhouse Category: +S through Z > Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Views: 2278 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The TMNT are not mine. No money being made.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
The Containment Clause

part 8

Final
            “Where are we going, Bishop?” Don asked, running through winding corridors behind the man.
            “To my communications room,” Bishop answered without slowing down. “It is secured by a special voice code and its primary systems are separate from the main computer functions.”
            “But I take it you’ve installed a back door?” Don questioned, guessing Bishop’s plan.
            “Yes, Donatello . You see, that is another reason I am attracted to you. I don’t need to explain every tiny thing. I am fairly sure Stockman will not have thought to look in my communication platform for a link to the operations mainframe.”
            “Not a very trusting person, are you Agent Bishop?” Don was trying to focus on anything but the painful ache in his rear and the reason he was so sore.
            After his orgasm, Bishop had seemed to become himself again, prompting Don to hurry, yet being cautious enough to avoid the cameras scattered about the building. They had used some of the service crawlways to escape the lab and move up from the third to the first level, where the com room was located.
            “Trust is something I can ill afford, Donatello. In fact, I’ll say I trust exactly one person in this entire universe, and that happens to be you,” Bishop replied, coming to a stop at a corner and checking for camera locations.
            “Me? Why me?” Don asked in surprise.
            “I have found over the years that you are a man of his word. All four of you in fact; although I’d have to say it’s always best to understand exactly what that word is when conversing with Raphael.” Bishop chuckled. “With you, I always feel that I can . . . let my guard down.”
            “I’m afraid I can’t say the same of you,” Don admitted.
            “I understand that completely, and I can only repeat that I am sorry. This thing came over me very suddenly and it has been too many years since I experienced feelings of this nature. I’ve forgotten how to deal with them,” Bishop told him.
            “What’s done is done,” Don said. “All I care about right now is getting to Raph.”
            “The door to the com room is just at the end of this corridor. There are two cameras angled towards the door. Stockman should not see me enter that room. I, we, need for him to believe that both us are still out of commission,” Bishop said.
            “Right.” Don set his bag on the ground and pulled out his Polaroid camera. “This is kind of old school, but it works amazingly well. The perspective will be off just a little, but I don’t think Stockman will be paying that much attention to detail, considering how many cameras he has to keep track of.”
            Keeping their backs pressed to the wall, the pair traversed the corridor and stopped just beneath the first camera.
            “Can you hold me if I climb onto your shoulders?” Don asked.
            Bishop smiled slightly. “Of course.”
            Holding the camera in one hand, and a small clip attached to a wire between his teeth, Don stepped into Bishop’s outstretched hands and carefully climbed onto his shoulders. Holding his camera at the same angle as that of the security camera, he snapped a picture of the door. Once the self-developing print came out, Don attached it to the security camera with the wire and clip.
            Jumping to the ground, Don moved on towards the second camera, and he and Bishop repeated the action.
            Standing in front of the door, Don asked, “What about inside this room? Any more cameras?”
            “No. This is the one room where I have no video equipment.” He adjusted his dark glasses and said, “I need for the communications in this room to remain as confidential as possible.”
            Leaning over, Bishop touched two fingers to a thermal scanner next to the door, which immediately slid open.
            When they were both inside and the door had closed behind them, Bishop said, “Communication systems activate. Authorization Bishop Omega one zero two.”
            “Code accepted,” a computerized voice responded.
            “This way Donatello, the access station is to the left.” Bishop stepped out into what appeared to be empty space.
            With a start, Don realized that the floor was actually made of an almost invisible Plexiglas set of panels. With each step Bishop took, the panel beneath his foot would light up.
            Reaching the computer access station, Don slid gingerly into a chair, hyper aware of how sore he was, and looked over at Bishop.
            “Do you want to give me the password, or should I just hack into the system? My way will take about five minutes longer,” Don said.
            Bishop grinned. “My, feeling cocky now that you’re behind a computer aren’t you? The code is Gamma three one five Omicron.”
            “Have a preference for Greek, Bishop?” Don asked absently as he typed in the password and watched the main menu spring up on the screen.
            “Memory tricks help me keep track of all my different security codes,” Bishop answered.
            Donatello worked for a few minutes in silence. Bishop remained standing, watching the door and periodically pointing out pathways on the screen to Don.
            Something was weighing heavily on Don’s mind, and he finally spoke.
            “Bishop, my brother; he doesn’t need to know about what happened between us.”
            Bishop glanced down at Don and saw that the Turtles face was slightly flushed. As before, the man’s body responded favorably to the sight, heat pooling around his midsection.
            This time he had more control over the reaction and said, “Agreed. Raphael hates me enough without my adding rapist to my resume.”
            Don tipped his head up to glance at Bishop, then returned his eyes to the computer screen. “I gave you my consent.”
            “Not by choice, Donatello. You consented to having sex with me because there was no other alternative. That wouldn’t have been my first choice either; I would have liked for you to actually want to be with me.”
            “I can’t give you that. I think you know well enough our worlds don’t mesh,” Don said.
            “I also know you are in love with your brother. While I may actively dislike Raphael, I respect your choice, and your reasoning. I want you to know however, that if you ever need me or want me for anything whatsoever, you have only to call,” Bishop told him.
            “I . . . I thought after we, after our interlude . . . whatever the a-attraction was would have dissipated,” Don stuttered with embarrassment.
            Bishop shook his head. “I’m not in heat Donatello. My attraction to you is based on many things and on many levels, sex being just one of them. I’m sorry it hit me so overwhelmingly just now; that may be a combination of finally getting to work so closely with you and having this new body that isn’t wracked with the pain of deterioration.”
            “I’m sorry that happened to you Bishop,” Don said, suddenly feeling a deep compassion for what the man must have suffered.
            “Thank you Donatello,” Bishop said softly. “Sometimes I lose sight of how it felt to have absolutely no control and no choice about what was happening to me. I think you might be helping me regain my empathy.”
            Don smiled at the sincerity in Bishop’s voice. They both fell silent again while Don worked. Bishop found himself studying the young genius, his eyes roaming every inch of the olive green skin, committing all he could to memory and fighting the urge to reach out and touch.
            Knowing he didn’t need to allow his body to regain control of his senses, Bishop turned and went back to watching the door.
            “I’m in,” Don announced triumphantly.
            Bishop spun around and leaned over Don’s shoulder to peer at the screen. “Very good. Can you set a timer on the locks in Stockman’s lab without his knowing about it?”
            “Yes. Why a timer?” Don asked.
            “I don’t want the locks snapping open prematurely. We must have time to get to the lab without giving him advance warning of our approach. If he has too much time, he may be able to get the locks working again, or he may destroy your brother,” Bishop said.
            “If he hasn’t already,” Don said in a low strained voice.
            Bishop placed a hand on his shoulder. “Try not to dwell on that thought, Donatello. I personally don’t believe Stockman was prepared to immediately kill Raphael. From hints he dropped during our conversation, I gathered he had plans that require your brother stay alive.”
            “That isn’t much more reassuring Bishop,” Don said.
            “No it wasn’t. I haven’t much practice with the soft touch; I’ll have to work on that.”
            “How much time should I set this for? You said Stockman’s lab is on the second level?” Don asked.
            “Make it ten minutes. We can take the service crawlway as we did before,” Bishop said.
            “Hold on, let me do something about the security cameras.” Don’s six fingers flew over the keyboard, typing commands faster than the eye could follow.
            As he watched the Turtle work, Bishop began to understand why Donatello was so captivating to him. Don’s confidence was powerfully attractive.
            “There, now the cameras are on a continuous loop, replaying the last three minutes over and over again. We should be able to get to Stockman before any of that film causes him suspicions.”
            “Very good. Let’s go, ten minutes is just enough time if we hurry,” Bishop told him.
            Don winced as he stood up and Bishop saw it. He reached a hand out to the Turtle, but Don leaned back away from him.
            “I’m fine Bishop,” he assured the man.
            “I should have gone slower; used more lubricant,” Bishop said regretfully.
            Don shook his head, moving towards the door. “Time was a problem then just as it is now. No regrets, Bishop.”
*****************
            Raph cried out as he orgasmed, his mind tricked by Stockman’s hypno-aphrodisiac drug cocktail into believing he was releasing his seed into Donatello.
            Stockman giggled softly, rubbing his robotic hands together in glee. A suction tube attached to the head of Raph’s penis collected the mutant’s ejaculate into specimen jars for him, which he duly labeled and placed into a special freezing unit.
            This was the fourth sample he had collected and he was ecstatic to find that Raphael’s mutation hadn’t overly altered his reproductive system. As long as Stockman topped off the injections of his drug into Raph’s system and kept playing the film of Raphael and Donatello fondling one another, the Turtle’s penis remained erect and productive.
            Stimulating Raphael’s extremely hard organ to climax was as easy as settling the large, robotic dildo into a hard, fast pace inside the Turtle’s ass. Each thrust caressed Raphael’s prostate with unerring accuracy, and the robotic hand jacked the Turtle’s dick in a matching rhythm.
            After he set the latest jar of sperm into the freezer, Stockman quickly slid a fresh one into place. Raphael was already churring; his hips lifting as though he were actually fucking his brother.
            Stockman smiled hugely. To Raph’s drugged up mind, that was exactly what he was doing, and the thought amused the doctor immensely.
            The churrs began to taper off then, and Raph’s hips stilled. Stockman glanced at the clock. It was time for another injection he noted, just as Raph began to blink and regain focus.
            As Stockman was reaching for the hypodermic, a loud bell sounded overhead and Stockman swung his robotic body towards the door. It was sliding open, the locks apparently bypassed by someone, and only his secondary alarm had warned him in time.
            Stockman’s eyes widened as he saw Bishop come rushing towards him, followed closely by Donatello.
            Cursing the fact that his robotic armor had no built in weapons, Stockman raced for the freezer, hoping to retrieve his samples and escape. Although his robotic body was much stronger than a human body, the doctor knew he was absolutely no match for Bishop.
            “Stockman!” Bishop yelled at him, intent on catching the doctor.
            “Bishop, here!” Don called and when Bishop turned, Don tossed his bo staff to the man.
            Catching it deftly, Bishop spun the weapon to his side as he dodged the heavy lab equipment dotted about the interior of the room.
            Stockman hadn’t even managed to open the freezer door when he realized that Bishop was moving too fast. After a second’s hesitation, Stockman abandoned his samples for the sake of self-preservation, and made a beeline for his backup escape route.
            Don ignored both Stockman and Bishop after supplying Bishop with his bo. He raced over to Raphael, his sharp eyes quickly taking in and understanding what had been done to his brother.
            “Oh shell, Raph!” Don exclaimed, pressing buttons to stop the mechanical arms from moving. “Hang on, I’ll get you out of this.”
            “Donny,” Raph husked, his glazed eyes resting on Don’s face. “Donny . . . need . . .”
            Don leaned over Raph’s face, placing a hand atop his brother’s head. “I’m here Raph. What do you need?”
            “You,” Raph answered softly. “Need . . . kiss me.”
            Nodding his head and smiling, Don pressed his lips to Raphael’s. He felt his brother jerk under him, and a long moan rolled out of Raph’s mouth into his as Raph climaxed.
            Don pulled back, petting his brother’s head gently and waiting for the orgasm to subside. When Raph’s body ceased its twitching, Don released his comforting hold on his brother and carefully pulled the dildo attachment out of Raph.
            Looking it over, Don was happy to note there was no blood anywhere on the green silicone. Glad that his brother was still half out of it, Don leaned in close and inspected Raph’s rectum, pulling down an overhead examination light in order to see better.
            With the lightest of touches, Don placed the tips of his fingers on the sides of Raph’s opening and stretched it enough to peer partway inside. As far as he could see, his brother was undamaged.
            Heaving a giant sigh of relief, Don began removing the suction tube that was attached to Raph’s penis. He glanced up at Raph’s face quickly, knowing how embarrassed his brother would be to have Donatello tucking his cock back into place, but Raph just lay there breathing deeply, his eyes closed.
            Following the tube to the glass jar at the end of it, Don’s beak bunched in disgust. Stockman’s level of depravity appeared to have sunk to an all-time low.
            Don could vaguely hear the sounds of Bishop’s pursuit of the doctor, and they were fading into the distance quickly. He hoped Bishop would catch Stockman, but he had a bad feeling that the slippery doctor had a unique and well thought out escape plan already in place.
            Picking up the glass jar, Don noted the freezer standing nearby and carried the newest jar over to it. Opening the door, Don gasped as he saw the other four jars labeled with Raph’s name that were already inside. Blinking back tears of regret that he couldn’t have arrived sooner, Don set the last glass jar on a shelf. He didn’t know yet how he was going to dispose of them, but that wasn’t his biggest concern at the moment.
            Returning to Raph’s side, Don worked on releasing his brother’s arms, happy to note that the metal straps that were used were thick with rounded edges. That combined with Raph’s wrist guards had kept the damage to his skin minimal; a little rash easily treated with an ointment.
            His ankles were damaged a bit more; some skin scraped away in places, but nothing too bad. After Don got the metal straps off of them, he found a roll of gauze and wrapped the wounds so they would stay clean until he got a chance to disinfect and bandage them properly.
            By the time all that was done, Raph was groaning and trying to sit up. Don slid a hand under his brother’s carapace and helped him into an upright position.
            Hand to his head, Raph asked, “Don? Is that really ya’ bro’?”
            “Yes. I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. Stockman had the entire place locked down,” Don told him.
            “Stockman!” Raph yelled, looking around furiously. “Where the fuck is that freak? And where the fuck is Bishop? He knocked me out Donny. It’s his damn fault I’m in here.”
            “I know Raph. He told me,” Don said as calmly as he could.
            “He told you?” Raph asked, confused.
            Don nodded. “He came to his senses just after, when he realized that Stockman was using Bishop’s momentary infatuation with me to gain control of this facility. Bishop came to me and told me what happened and asked me to help him make it right.”
            Raph stared at him, trying to clear away the last of his drug induced fog. “Then he didn’t try ta hurt ya’?”
            “No, Raph,” Don answered truthfully. Bishop had definitely not tried to hurt him. “He was overwhelmed by a side effect of the new body he just entered. He’s okay now; in fact, he’s better than okay. I think he might actually be coming around to our side.”
            Raph looked skeptical and Don didn’t push it. He didn’t think Raph would ever get over his suspicions of Bishop, and Raph certainly had a lot of reasons to be wary. Don couldn’t begrudge him that. Plus, he didn’t want to talk about Bishop if he could help it, for fear of Raph asking a question that Don wouldn’t want to answer.
            As far as Don was concerned, what had happened between he and Bishop was best forgotten, but Don knew he couldn’t lie about it if Raph asked. So it was much better if Raph were to never ask.
            A sound from behind him turned Don, his hand automatically snatching up a glass beaker to defend the still weakened Raphael. It turned out to be Bishop returning, sans Stockman.
            “What happened?” Don asked, catching his bo staff as Bishop tossed it back to him.
            “He got away from me,” Bishop said in one of the nastiest tones Don had ever heard him use. “His escape route led up to the surface and into a little garage where he had a jet pack. If I’d had a gun this would be over.”
            “I don’t need a gun ta take care of ya’,” Raph snarled, jumping off of the metal table. “I don’t even need my sais. I’m gonna grab your scrawny neck between my hands and snap it for ya’.”
            “Raphael, please stop,” Don begged, pressing against his brother’s chest.
            “Dammit Don, I know ya’ think he’s some kinda hero all of a sudden, but I still owe him for throwing me ta that fuckin’ Stockman,” Raph told him.
            “Raphael, I will never be able to apologize enough for that,” Bishop said. “In my defense, I must say I was as drugged as you were. It was difficult for me to overcome my desire for your brother, but I did finally manage to do so and attempt to make this right with you.”
            “It’s true Raph. Bishop couldn’t help how his new body reacted any more than you could keep from reacting to what Stockman was doing to you,” Don pleaded, his face close to Raph’s as he searched and held his brother’s eyes.
            “If it was anyone but ya’ asking Don, I swear I’d gut him right now,” Raph growled, his body tense.
            “Thank you Raphie,” Don murmured.
            Before they could do anything else, a red light began flashing inside the room.
            “What the fuck is that?” Raph snapped.
            “It’s a self-destruct warning,” Bishop said. “Stockman must have somehow activated it when he fled. Those lights signal an impending flash fire; we need to get out of this room.”
            Just as he said that, the doors slid closed and the locks snapped audibly into place.
            “We aren’t going that way,” Don said.
            “We’ll go out the way Stockman did. I jammed that door open when I came back through it,” Bishop said.
            Raph spotted his sais on top of a work bench and strode over to retrieve them. His legs felt a little like his muscles had turned to jelly, but he managed to keep them straight.
            “Come on Don,” Raph called to his brother, who was hanging back, looking over a row of liquid filled beakers on a shelf.
            “One minute Raph,” Don said.
            “We may not have very long, Donatello,” Bishop told him.
            “A flash fire may not destroy what’s in this freezer,” Don said. “And I am damn well determined that it does get destroyed.”
            Raph’s eyes widened when he realized what the freezer contained. Don began spilling the contents of various beakers into another one. Grabbing it and another small jar of liquid, he opened the freezer. Just before he pushed the first beaker inside, he added several drops from the small jar, and then quickly slammed the door shut.
            Using his bo staff like a pole vault, Donny sprang away from the freezer as fast as he could.
            He was still in mid-air when the freezer exploded, buckling in on itself as heavy black smoke poured from various openings.
            Bishop led them into Stockman’s secret exit and they started running, trying to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the lab.
            “Yo Donny,” Raph got his attention with a low murmur, “was that my jizz in that freezer?”
            Don looked at him. “What do you think Raph?”
            “I think it was, and I think ya’ don’t wanna talk about it,” Raph responded. “If you’re trying ta protect my feelings, don’t worry about that. I know what happened, but I don’t remember most of it. In fact, the only thing I remember was that I thought I was with ya’ the whole time, and I kinda like those memories.”
            “But they weren’t real,” Don said.
            “I know that, so don’t go all Freud on me trying ta tell me the right way ta deal with this experience. The way I felt watching that film of the two of us together was real, and the way I felt when ya’ leaned over and kissed me was real.” Raph looked ahead to make sure Bishop was still far enough in front of them to not overhear their conversation.
            “Stockman, he . . . he violated you Raph,” Don said.
            “Oh shell, Donny, I don’t give a shit about that,” Raph said, surprising his brother. “I don’t give a fuck about him sticking a piece of plastic in my ass; I’m just glad Shredder cut his cock off so he couldn’t try anything else.”
            Don had to laugh. “Raphael, you never cease to amaze me.”
            Raph grinned lopsidedly. “Good. Keep ya’ guessin’, that way ya’ never get tired of me.”
            “I’ll never get tired of you Raphael,” Don said warmly.
            “Whoa, wait,” Raph suddenly stopped running; spinning on his heal to dart down a dark hallway that ran off of the main passage.
            Don skid to a halt, pivoting quickly to jog after his brother and shouting to Bishop simultaneously.
            “Where are you going?” Don called, losing sight of Raph for a minute.
            He heard Raph pounding on something that sounded like metal, and then finally got close enough to see his brother kicking at a grate set low in the wall at the end of the hallway.
            “It’s an emergency drain,” Raph told him, though Don could see that for himself. “I can hear the sewers running behind here.”
            With a final hard kick, the metal grate buckled and dropped out of sight.
            “Go Don, I’m right behind ya’,” Raph said.
            “But where . . . ?” Don started to ask and Raph caught him roughly by his shoulders, shoving him towards the opening.
            “We’re goin’ home, bro’. Right now. It is way past time for us ta leave this zoo,” Raph said.
            When Don still hesitated, Raph grabbed the top edge of his carapace and pushed. Getting the message that this wasn’t debatable, Don tossed his bag down and quickly followed it.
            Bishop came down the hall just as Don disappeared through the opening. Raph squatted and once he heard Don land, he jumped through as well.
            Both brothers stood aside as they heard Bishop coming through to join them, and then a loud crackling sound came from the direction of their exit.
            “Move!” Bishop shouted, leaping to get away from the opening they’d just come through.
            Raph caught his brother across his chest with a heavily muscled arm and threw them both to the ground just as a giant ball of flame rolled like a canon shot from the emergency drain. The flame was so intense it boiled the water in the channel next to them before it finally stopped.
            “Shell,” Don breathed out as he sat up. “Flash fire.”
            Raph picked himself up and offered Don a hand. “No shit, Sherlock.”
            Standing, Don looked around for Bishop and saw the man several feet away, dusting his pants off.
            “We’re going home Bishop,” Don announced in a determined tone.
            Bishop looked up at him, his expression flat.
            “I rather expected that,” he said.
            Don reached down and snagged his canvas bag, sliding it over his shoulder. Raph had walked a few paces away, and then stopped when he noticed that Don was still standing there looking at Bishop.
            Looking over his shoulder, Don told his brother, “Give me a second.”
            Raph growled, “Donny . . . .”
            “It’s okay,” Don said. “Trust me bro’.”
            Raph nodded curtly and moved further away, out of earshot, but not so far that he couldn’t keep his eye on Bishop.
            Bishop walked up close to Don, and pulled his glasses off.
            “There are probably things one says in a situation like this, but I’m afraid that’s another thing I haven’t done in a very long time,” Bishop said.
            “Well, I never have, so I suppose that makes us even,” Don replied, staring into the man’s eyes and seeing purple reflected back at him.
            “I don’t suppose I could say something to tempt you to remain with me?” Bishop asked, his tone not very hopeful.
            “No. I have a family and someone who loves me; I don’t want or need anything else.” Don stepped back and turned.
            Bishop reached out quickly and caught Don’s arm to stop him.
            “I still need that cure Donatello,” he said.
            Raph’s low growl reached them both, and Bishop released Don’s arm.
            “I’ve already found it,” Don told him.
            Bishop let his surprise show. “Where is it? I’ve got to have it, Donatello,” Bishop insisted.
            “It’s up here,” Don tapped his skull. “I committed it to memory rather than to write it out. We never made an arrangement for our release and I needed to have a bargaining chip of some sort.”
            Raph came closer and added, “Yeah, he called it a containment clause. Ya’ get the formula to contain that mutation as soon as we’re free of your ass.”
            Bishop didn’t look at Raph, his eyes fixed on Donatello. “There is no time left. If I wait for you to get to your home, it may be too late. You can’t send it over a computer line anyway, I don’t know how deeply embedded Stockman is into our systems. They have to be cleansed.”
            “All right,” Don dug into his bag quickly, searching for something.
            “Donny, we ain’t far enough away from him,” Raph said in warning, his tone low.
            “It’s okay Raph, I know what I’m doing,” Don told him, pulling a felt tipped pen from his bag. “Pull off your jacket,” he said to Bishop.
            Bishop’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t ask questions. Slipping his jacket off quickly, he said, “I suppose you want me to turn around now.”
            A corner of Don’s mouth quirked up. “I’m glad to know I don’t have to explain every tiny thing.”
            When Bishop turned, Don stepped up to him, uncapped the pen and began to write out the containment formula on Bishop’s shirt.
            “Don, what the fuck are ya’ doin’?” Raph asked.
            Donatello continued to write as he said, “The air in here is very moist Raph. If Bishop chooses to follow us, the moist air and his body sweat will make his shirt wet. If this marker ink gets wet, it fades and runs. He’ll lose the formula.”
            “So what if he just takes the shirt off?” Raph wanted to know.
            “Same thing. The moist air in the sewer will still affect the ink. I think we can manage to find a route that takes us through some really wet areas, don’t you bro’?” Don asked.
            Raph grinned. “Fuck yeah.”
            When he was done, Don put his pen away and stepped back. Bishop put his jacket back on carefully and turned to face the Turtle.
            Neither said anything for a long minute. Raph grumbled under his breath finally, and Don glanced at him.
            “I’m right behind you Raph,” Don said.
            Getting the hint, Raph moved away again, his eyes glued to his brother.
            “You have to know by now I am no longer capable of doing you any harm, Donatello,” Bishop said.
            “I think I do, Bishop. Whatever the reason, I think I’m happy about that. Life would be a lot simpler for my family if we don’t have to look over our shoulder for you,” Don admitted.
            Bishop looked down at the dark glasses in his hand and lifted them to his face. Sliding them into place, he lifted his head to Don once more.
            “If you’re ever discontented, I’m only a phone call away,” Bishop said.
            “I won’t be making that call. Please don’t wait on it,” Don replied.
            Bishop cleared his throat and stepped back, slowly distancing himself from Don.
            “My rational mind will not. The part of me that you own probably will,” Bishop said before he turned to walk away.
            Don watched him for a moment, and then jogged over to join Raph. Together they began running through the sewers, headed towards the lair.
            “What the shell was that all about?” Raph asked.
            “I think I just brokered a peace agreement,” Don answered. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see how that works out.”
            “It doesn’t mean ya’ gotta ever see him again does it?” Raph asked suspiciously.
            Don laughed. “No, Raph. Hopefully, our paths will never cross again.”
            “That’s good then. ‘Cause I don’t care how nice he’s acting towards ya’, I still hate the guy and I’m really pissed that Stockman got away,” Raph said.
            “I know, Raph. But now Stockman has not only us but Bishop, Karai, Hun and the Purple Dragons, the Mob and heaven knows who else after him. He’s burned too many bridges and it won’t be long before someone catches up to him. Stockman will get what he deserves.”
            “I like how ya’ look at things Donny,” Raph told him.
            “You do?” Don asked with a smile. “Then think about this; that experience may have been pretty bad for both of us, but without it we might never have gotten the courage to tell each other how we feel.”
            Raph stopped running and Don pulled up as well. “Ya’ really care about me that way, Don? Do ya’ think we could try ta make something work between us?” he asked, his voice hopeful.
            Don reached over and curled the tips of his fingers over Raph’s forearm, pulling him into a side tunnel. Leaning suggestively against a wall, Don wrapped his arms tightly around his brother’s neck.
            “I sent an email just before Bishop and I came in to rescue you, so Leo knows we’re safe and headed back home. I think we can afford to take a few minutes to explore your question a little further,” Don said huskily.
            Heart beating fast, Raph slipped his arms around Don’s waist and pressed his plastron against his brother’s.
            His lips inches from Donatello’s, Raph asked in a soft whisper, “I ain’t hallucinating am I?”
            Don’s lips twitched up into a smile as he whispered back, “No Raphie, this time is for real.”
The End
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The Containment Clause