A/N: Hello everyone! I'm sorry for the lateness in this my next fic, but I've been juggling three and this actually wasn't going to be the next. However, I seem to be on a roll, so I thought I'd post it for you. Once again, my thanks goes out to Rhoda J who has been my unofficial beta reader and all around confidence booster. She has graciously been nice enough to take time out and read my various fics, hear some of my outlandish ideas, and even let me have a RL rant or two. I would also like to thank candelight, who for the first few chapters, was gracious enough to critique my Japanese as well as helping me with the title. This title is her contribution and I would like to dedicate this fic to them both.
Many thanks, of course, go to those who have reviewed my other fics. Hopefully to those that have me marked on alerts will enjoy this new fic. As always, this is based on the 2003 series, with no mention of the Fast Forward or BTTS storylines. Thoughts and journal enteries are italized.
DISCLAIMER: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and their characters are properties of Eastman, Laird, and Mirage Studios. All information within this fic were taken from various sites, including Google, Wikipedia, Yahoo Babel Fish, the Romaji Translator, 4Kids TV, Linguanaut, The English to Japanese Dictionary, About dot com, etc. I do not make claims to know the Japanese language; phrases, words, and sentences were constructed with careful research based on the sites listed above. Please notify me if there needs to be a change in grammar. I do not make any money from this fic; this is done for pure emotional comfort and entertainment purposes.
I'm not sure if this is the correct day or not. Things are so horrid now, I'm not sure what to do. I can't exactly state the date, as I'm not sure when I am, and even that…
All I know is, I have at least arrived a week before the deed and for that I'm grateful.
This world is strange to me and I have been unable to go and discover its secrets. All because of her.
Why won't she leave me be? Does she not understand the importance of this?
The days here are bleak and black and I wonder, not for the first time if perhaps I have gone further than I wanted to. I have done it before, so desperate in my quest I could think of little else. But I believe I have the transporter down to a science now. I think I have made him proud.
At least I hope.
A soft sigh escaped the lips of the unknown writer, as he proceeded to close his notebook and place it back in a pocket that lined his black cargo shorts. It was nearing midnight, that he knew, though it was so hard to tell in this dimension. He knew he had arrived in the bleakest of winters for the city, but it didn't stop him from wearing his normal time traveling garb. It was insulated – he had designed them that way – and he had managed to hole up in a rather warm abandoned apartment.
The candle he had lit was the only light that shined through and he had only taken it out in order to write in his journal. That was important, as he needed to keep notes on the time he was in. It was difficult, as he hadn't exactly been given an actual date of death, but he had spent nearly a year doing this and from what he gathered, it was around this time that the…event took place.
So hardened by the story, he couldn't even give name to what happened, only the aftermath of it and the resulting pains of his childhood. He had always had this idea, the idea of going back and changing what had happened, since he was a small child, but he hadn't the means until he was older. Once he was able, he went about researching and digging through what he could in order to come back to the night, that night. It had been hard – so focused on his task, he hadn't bothered to ask the date or even the year of that night – but he did his best.
He was good at figuring out things. Once he had jumped a couple of times, he knew a more precise date and year. He had gone too far back and nearly changed events that would result in his not being born, as well as going so far in the future, he almost didn't have anyone to save. But he thought he had done it this time. This time would be different; he was ahead of schedule and he was fairly sure he had left her dimensions ago. He had done that on purpose. When he discovered he could actually transverse dimensions, that's what he had done, to make sure she pursued him and would get lost in transit. He would not let her stop him! He could do this! He had made sure he would be in the area, though this time he was in the building right next to the action.
He would change history.
Standing from his place on the floor, the figure stood and blew out the candle, leaving the room and him in complete darkness. Padding softly across the floor, the figure managed to reach the nearby window and raised the curtain slightly. The streets below were quiet, not much activity going on, but then he saw movement in the shadows on the roof. It was them!
It was happening!
Moving silently, but quickly from the window, the figure left his room and headed for the roof. His pace slowed quickly, as he encountered the door leading to that building's roof. He had checked it before hand and there didn't seem to be anything wrong with it, but now as he tried to open it, it wouldn't budge. Anger built in him like a raging chasm. No! This could not be happening! He needed to get out! He couldn't risk being seen, but he had little choice.
Behind him was a window he knew led to the alley below. Standing against the door, he ran full speed until he was air born, glass surrounding him as began to fall the nine stories to his apparent death. But resourceful he was and that is what saved him as he latched on to an adjoining clothes line and began the ride to the next building. Stopping at the wall, the figure reached into a vest pocket and removed a pair of shuko spikes and placed them on his hands. Then he began climbing as quickly as he could.
He was losing time!
Finally reaching the roof, he looked left and right, trying to find the shadows from earlier. His panic rose when he didn't spot them, but his hearing did pick up the sounds of a fight, just down to his left. Racing along the rooftops, he stopped when he saw the flurry of activity across the way from him. On street level, in an alley, seemed to be a scuffle of sorts, one that he was trying to prevent. Swearing, the figure rushed to the edge of the roof and began to climb down using the spikes and knowing he may not arrive in time.
He hit the ground running, his ears picking up the fact that the fighting had apparently stopped and when he reached the alley, rounded that last corner…
He was too late. Too late. There were already five figures in the alleyway – three that stood, one crouched on the ground, and the last already dying in his arms. The group was stunned to see this newcomer standing at the alley entrance; they were even more stunned when someone else appeared from behind them.
"Stop being so belligerent!" she exclaimed. "Why are you being so unreasonable?"
The figure at the entrance snarled at the new figure, the new feminine figure, before raising his right arm and disappearing into thin air. The woman behind the group sighed, a mixture of frustration and sadness in one. Looking down, her expression softened into something of resignation. She hated doing this, she really did.
"Before you even ask," she whispered. "I can't. You know it has to happen like this. I'm sorry."
"What?" asked the one she addressed, confusion clear on his green, reptilian face. Two of the three that stood matched their comrade in his shock and dismay, while the third removed the white hockey mask and looked ready to tackle her if she made to leave.
"I'm sorry," she repeated, moving the arm that held her staff. In a flash of light, the scene she had been in disappeared and she was back in her own room. She gave another sigh, knowing that erasing an event like that would take something out of her, but the fact that it was them and she had done it a thousand times and in a thousand different ways. Why couldn't he understand!?
"Didn't get him?" asked a voice from behind her. Shaking her head almost on impulse, she let out another sigh. When dealing with this boy, it seemed all she did was sigh. "I'd like to say next time, but…"
"Your nephew is killing me."
"As he is all of us," came the reply. "He's hurt, you know that. Ever since…he knows he can't fix this, but he's going to try anyway. That's his father in him, all right."
"Peachy," was her retort. "We can't keep doing this."
"Want me to have a go?"
She shook her head. "The first twenty times was good," she whispered. "I just wish his mother would go."
"You know she can't."
"I know, I know." The two were silent until the woman sighed again. "Ugh! Doesn't he know you can't change history!?"