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“Nowhere can a secret keep
always secret, dark and deep,
half so well as in the past,
buried deep, to last, to last. . . “
--The Book of Counted Sorrows
--August 1st, 1998; 12:34pm
“All aboard!” Casey called cheerfully, loading the last of the stuff into the
truck. Mona Lisa gave everyone a hug and a kiss on the cheek goodbye. Raph
clasped hands with his bros, patted Wendy on the head--earning him a wicked
glare--and bowed to his sensei.
“Take care my students. Have a nice time,” Splinter nodded to both of them.
“Don’t worry, they will,” Don muttered to a strangely quite Mike standing next
to him. Both Mike and Wendy seemed a little. . . on edge. Don couldn’t quite
explain it. Perhaps it was just because Mona Lisa and Raph would be getting out of
workouts this weekend.
“See you Sunday night!” Mona Lisa waved as she hopped into the back of
the truck. Raph followed, cozying in next to her.
Casey shoved up the tailgate, then dropped the lid to the tinted topper,
latching both. “Looks like it just gonna be you guys this weekend. I got called in to
work, and April says she’s finishing up a big story.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll manage somehow,” Leo grinned, then laughed as Mona Lisa
and Raph pressed their faces against the glass and blew, causing their cheeks to puff
out like blowfish.
Casey tapped the glass, “Hey, hey! You two are gonna be cleaning that glass
when we get back!” He rolled his eyes at Splinter as he climbed behind the wheel,
“Kids.”
The Rat grinned.“So,” Raph pulled Mona Lisa to him as they started down the bumpy road,
“What do we do first?” He began to kiss her neck, letting his hands feel the curves
of her body.
“Woah slow down there, Tex,” Mona Lisa pulled away gently. “There will be
plenty of time for that later.”
There was a look of longing in his eyes, “This will be the first time we don’t
have to sneak around.”
She smiled and planted a sweet kiss on his lips, “This will be a fabulous
weekend. But I think Casey has something he wants you to help him with this
evening.”
“Oh man!” Raph sighed, pouting.
Mona Lisa giggled, “You’re acting like it’s our first time.”
“First time we don’t have to worry about being heard or caught.”
She snuggled in next to him and sighed contently, “This will be a weekend we
will never forget. Trust me, babe.”
She could practically hear Raph’s grin, “I’m counting on it.”
--August 1st, 1998; 8:57pm
Wendy and Leo sat relaxing, leaning against a large shade tree and watching a
flaming red sun set. A few fair weather clouds still hung in the air, and seemed to
soak up the color, deep red on the bottom fading to pink at the top. The sky was
saturated with red hues, which deepened into purple and finally dark blue as the sun
sank lower and lower. They sat side by side, the pads of their fingers barely touching
in a friendly, comfortable gesture. Wendy seemed a little tense, Leo noted.
“What’s on your mind?” He finally asked.
“Mona Lisa and Raph,” She said after a moment. “I’m worried.”
Leo grinned wickedly, “Don’t be. I think they can figure out what to do.”
Wendy didn’t return the grin, “No, not that. Some else. . .” She trailed off.
Leo waited for her to finish, shifting his grip so their fingers laced together. Her hand
felt small and soft, yet somehow strong and powerful. “. . . Something bad.” She
finally said.
Leo sat up a little, frowning at her. “What do you mean? How can you tell?”
Wendy shook her head, “I don’t know, I just feel it. I know it.” Her brow
furrowed with frustration, “I just don’t know when. It may be tomorrow, it may be next
month, but something’s going to happen. . .”
Feeling uneasiness beginning to rise, Leo stared up into the cooling sky, “Why
don’t I feel it too? Raph and I are supposed to be bonded, connected. Why can’t I
sense it too? What’s wrong with me?’
“Nothing is wrong with you,” Wendy said firmly. “Mona Lisa and I have had
our own kind of mental bond for many years. Plus, I have my wand, and it helps.
Besides, I’m not sure that what’s going to happen has anything to do with Raph at
all.”
“Do you think they’re in some kind of danger?”
“I’m not sure about Raph, but I know it true for Mona Lisa. Mike’s been
feeling it too, I’m sure of it.”
Leo nodded, “He’s been acting weird lately. We’ll have to ask him.”
“We can try, but I have a feeling we won’t get much out of him. It seems to
me there’s something else troubling him as well.”
“But,” Leo started, “If Raphael and Mona Lisa were in some kind of danger,
wouldn’t Splinter have felt it? Surely he would not have let them go if he knew
there was going to be trouble.”
Wendy shrugged, “Splinter’s good, but he doesn’t know everything. He
doesn’t have the same kind of bond Mona Lisa and I do. We haven’t know him for
that long.”
Leo’s eyes lit up. “Maybe he DOES know something, but would rather us feel
it for ourselves. A learning experience for us. He tends to be sneaky like that.”
Wendy turned to him, shocked. “Well, he is.”
Sighing, Wendy stood up, “Lets go inside. Maybe we can chat with Mikey.”
As they slowly made there way to the house, the neon sign in Wendy’s brain began
screaming again, just as a tiny whisper started in Leo’s; Both were sending the same
message: “Something’s wrong. . .”
--August 2nd, 1998; 1:09am
Mike stared up at the ceiling of his room. The last time he looked at the
clock, it had read nearly one in the morning, but he could not sleep, his brain would
not let him. Too many thoughts and feeling swirling around, he felt unsettled. Earlier,
Wendy and Leo had come to him, asking about the whole mental link thing, asking if
he had any bad vibes. He told them he wasn’t sure, but maybe. Mike couldn’t bring
himself to tell them about his dreams. But, something in Wendy’s eyes told him she
could already sense something in him. He’d managed to escape their questioning
when Don asked Wendy to come help him in the barn. Leo had sat with Mike on the
couch for a while, the two of them staring at the TV in silence. Then Leo had
retreated to his room to read. Mike was grateful he hadn’t asked anymore questions.
Mike wondered why Leo wasn’t getting any feelings of impending doom.
Maybe it was because the feelings Leo had for Raph were different than those that
Mike had for Mona Lisa. Sure, they all loved each other, but maybe the bond was
different when lust was involved. Also, maybe, if something bad was in fact going to
happen, Raph wasn’t involved, thus Leo felt nothing out of the ordinary. Don was in
the dark too, because his bond was with Wendy. But Wendy, the strange little
psychic she was, obviously knew something. She’s known Mona Lisa much longer
than any of them, and maybe had a different kind of link with her.
After Leo went to his room, Mike had snapped off the TV and hopped into the
shower for quick cool down rinse. It had been extreme hot that day, and he had
splashed around in the pond for a while after workout, leaving that
“Dirty-pond-water-feeling” on his skin. Once he had dried off, Mike slipped into his
room, shut the door then leaning against it, closing his eyes and letting his head fall
back with a soft thunk, allowing the door to support him. After a moment he tossed
his mask, belt and pads onto his inflatable chair. He switched on his black lite after
flicking the main lights off and lay on top of his covers, looking up at the
glow-in-the-dark stars Mona Lisa had got him--he had mentioned wanting some once
after he had gotten the black lite, and was shocked when she handed him the package
of stars, smiling at him sweetly. He’d thought his heart might burst with love for her.
Laying on his bed, Mike decided to try what Splinter had taught them. He
focused and reached out mentally searching for Mona Lisa. After what seemed like
forever, he felt contact but jerked away quickly, shock drawing him out of his deep
meditative state. It had taken him only a moment to realize what had been going on,
and he felt the heat of embarrassment rise in his cheeks. He had invaded their
privacy; Mentally cursing himself, he hoped Mona Lisa’s mind had been too
distracted by what was going on with her body to notice the brief intrusion. At the
same time, Mike felt a sad sort of longing, as his brain whispered to him, “It will never
be you.” He reached up and brushed away a tear that had formed. That didn’t
matter. All he ever wanted was for his brother to find something that made him
happy. Mona Lisa was it. And Mike was glad for both of them. That’s all that
mattered.
Sighing, Mike switched off his black lite and rolled onto his side, his room now
dark except for the faint glow of the now fully-powered glow-in-the-dark stars. He
hoped that his feeling of “bad-ness” was wrong. He hoped he wouldn’t have the
dream again. And he hoped the sad ache in his heart would go away soon.
--August 2nd, 1998; 12:31am
It was after midnight when Casey finally let Raph go home. The damn fool
had had a huge list of chores that he insisted Raph help him with. The turtle
grumbled as he sloshed toward the lair, annoyed at Casey, who knew this was
supposed to be a vacation for him and Mona Lisa. Raph somehow got the feeling
Casey was trying to distract him, keep him occupied. But once midnight came, he let
Raph go freely, no more excuses to get him to say ten more minutes. What was that
crazy human up to? Raph shrugged the thought off as he reached the lair door. He
opened it quietly, not wanting to wake Mona Lisa if she were asleep. A strange light
filtered through the crack, then flooded his vision as he stood in the doorway. There
were candles lit all over the lair: tall, elegant ones, and short, fragrant ones. On the
table next to the couch a bottle of wine was chilling with two glasses beside it. Raph
stood, gazing around for a moment, then shook off the shock and entered the lair
completely, sealing the door behind him. He walked to the bottle of wine, a small
smile on his face.
“Welcome home,” came a sultry voice from the kitchen doorway. Raph turned,
and what he saw made his jaw drop. “Careful,” Mona Lisa giggled, “you’re drawing
flies.”
Raph’s eyes traveled up and down Mona Lisa body. She was leaning on the
doorjamb, propping herself up with one arm. She was wearing a negligee of black
lace and deep red satin. It clung to her body, defining her shapely figure. Slowly,
she strolled over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Surprise,” she
kissed him lightly and smiled, then took a step back, “How ‘bout opening the wine?”
Raphael reached out and pulled her close again. “What wine?” The satin she
wore felt smooth and cool against his skin. In a simple motion, he swept Mona Lisa
off her feet and gathered her in his arms, carrying her to the bedroom.
“Happy anniversary, Raphy,” Mona Lisa whispered as he gently lay her on the
bed.
“It sure is,” he smiled.
