Remember. [TMNT 2012]

Chapter 14; Leonardo

Song: Can You Feel My Heart - Bring Me the Horizon

What. Just. Happened?

One second she was on the ledge, and the next second she was gone. And it's all my fault.

I launch my hand blindly over the ledge of the roof. I clutch desperately at the air, hoping something will be there. Anything at all.

By some miracle, I feel something grab onto my hand. I lean backwards and pull the weight onto the roof. Relief washes over me when I realize it's Elizabetta. She's alive.

I set her gently on her feet and give her a swift examination. She looks alright, except her legs are shaking again. Not to mention that her eyes look frozen with horror.

She refuses to let go of my arm until the initial frightened look fades from her eyes. I can tell she is back in reality when she releases my arm and takes a few clumsy steps back. I have to catch her arm again to stop her from falling.

Elizabetta's face is pale as she looks at me. Her legs won't stop quivering, so I sit and gently tug her down beside me. She gets the message and takes a seat.

I let go of her and tilt my head slightly. "Are you ok?" I ask with concern.

Though she clearly isn't, Elizabetta nods her head. I obviously have not yet found her breaking point. She really is tougher than she looks. Or she's just determined to show me that she can handle anything.

Slowly, the color comes back to her face. She squeezes her dagger handle, blood trickling down a cut on the inside of one of her hands. She must have grabbed onto the blade while she was falling.

"Donnie can bandage that up for you," I say softly. I am determined to get her to speak. I'm not a doctor, but I know socialization prevents shock from setting in.

She simply nods again. I can't tell if she is mad at me. If she is, no turtle can blame her. I almost sent her to her death.

"Are you afraid of heights?" I ask her. It isn't really a good conversation-starter, but it's something.

Elizabetta bites her lip and nods once again, but this time she also speaks. "Yes."

   Grateful she didn't lose her voice, I press on. "I'm really sorry, Lizzy. I didn't mean to do that to you. I guess I was just..." Showing off is what I want to say, but it seems too stupid. I'm supposed to be the mature one!

   "Being a good teacher, I know," Elizabetta finishes my dangling sentence. She offers me an attempt at a smile. "I understand."

   She's still trembling. Her gaze drops to her weapon again. She runs her fingers gently around the frame of her dagger, studying it.

   I settle down against the wall. We are going to be here for a while. "So, what's the fascination with that dagger?" I question her curiously.

   Elizabetta continues to stare at it. She hesitates before she answers. "It was my father's, but I never met him. My mother gave it to me. She said that she didn't have a use for it and I should have it to defend myself."

   "You never met your dad?" I feel a pang of sympathy for her. Though he isn't my biological father, I don't know where I'd be without Master Splinter. "Why?"

   Elizabetta shrugs. "I don't know. My mom never talked about him. Any time he was mentioned, she would fall silent until she had a chance to leave the room. I remember one time my brother was doing his geometry homework in the kitchen. Mom was trying to help him, but he still wasn't understanding. She accidentally let it slip that our father had been the math genius of the family. My brother asked how so, but she simply shook her head and left." Her voice chokes up on the last sentence, but she continues. "My brother was so disappointed, but mostly in himself. We had always tried to avoid upsetting mom. She did her best for us and we wanted to do the same for her. I had to explain to him that it was her fault the question was asked. He felt better, but that's when we promised to never ask questions about dad again."

   She refuses to look at me and I can instantly tell she is really upset. "I'm sorry," I say quietly. I feel like I should hug her or something, but I've never been good at comforting anyone. So, I just sit there like a heartless Kraangdroid.

   "Don't pity me," she replies in a more level voice. "I've lived my whole life like this. I'm used to it. Seriously, it's alright," she insists when I don't look convinced. "I don't even know what I've missed out on. It feels totally normal to me."

   I watch as she looks down at her weapon again. I see the words 'Game on' carved on the handle and curiosity strike me like a snake, once again.

   "Why did you carve that into the handle?" I question her carefully. I don't want her to tear up again.

   Elizabetta shakes her head a bit and touches the words with her index finger. "My brother engraved it," she replies, apparently uncertain if she should open up to me or not. I understand; it's hard to trust a mutant turtle.

   "Why?" I press on gently. Though I don't care much for her, something inside me wants her to continue.

   Elizabetta studies me for a moment, like she's deciding if she should tell me or not. She must assume I's worth the explanation, because she elaborates. "It was actually for my birthday a few years back. I had just gotten home from the worst day of school ever. No one had remembered my birthday. Also, at lunch spilled milk down one of my friend's favorite shirts. Needless to say, she didn't talk to me anymore. In addition, I failed two tests. One of my teachers gave me detention for answering a question without raising my hand, even though no one else was raising their hand. And finally, I missed the bus home, so I had to walk all the way home," Suddenly, a smile cracks at the corners of her mouth. "But none of that mattered anymore when my brother returned my dagger to me later that night. He said I had dropped it in the hallway at school, so he retrieved it and personalized for me."

   Her stories are a lot more interesting than I originally thought they'd be. "So, what does it mean?" I am intrigued.

   "Well, it doesn't necessarily have a definition. My brother and I just used to say it all of the time," she explains. "It was sort of our competitive catchphrase. Whenever we were going head-to-head, one of us would blurt that out. We said it the most while playing video games."

   I notice by her tone of voice that she is feeling much better. The fear in her eyes is replaced with reminiscence. She maintains the smile on her face and her legs aren't shaking anymore. She seems stable.

   I would love to hear more about her, but I think it's time to call the train-wreck of a practice session to an end. She's experienced enough excitement for one night.

   "Let's head back to the lair," I order as I stand. I offer her my hand to help her, but she doesn't need it. She gets up confidently and we head back, my mind still digging through the information she gave me about her life.