It's weird for both of them. They hardly talk save for short snatches of conversation. Destiny is almost always on edge around Diaval, he's silent and distant around her. Their interactions amount to very little at first. Diaval doesn't seem to mind it. Destiny feels as if she's about to lose her mind. After all, she had lived in the lair with the turtles for a while and the turtles are a lot more talkative than Diaval.

The nights are the worst. The serum is most effective when they sleep, and even when they're hundreds of miles away from the Shredder and New York, his hatred infests their already disturbed minds. Diaval, whom hardly sleeps as it is, lies awake most nights with his itching eyes on the ceiling. He falls asleep when exhaustion takes over, his magical energy draining as it twists and festers into some sort of sentient being, bent on making Destiny's nightmares even more terrible than they already are.

It's on a night like these that he first feels it. He lays on his bed, arms hooked behind his head and one leg kicked out from under his blankets. Destiny's already asleep and has been for an hour or so.

She whimpers. It's soft at first, but the noise grows. Diaval turns his head to her as her fingers tighten around the blankets, ears tucking back. Her cries get worse. She mashes her face against the pillow, her legs curling into her stomach as if making herself smaller will save her. He stares for a moment before looking away. It should go away soon enough, or so he believes.

It doesn't. The seconds tick by and she's still crying into her pillow, somehow remaining asleep through it all. Every pained noise she makes is another jab against Diaval's chest.

It's his fault that she's like this, he thinks. To make it worse, he's not doing anything to help her now.

He waits for any sign that she's getting calmer, but none comes. He exhales heavily and pushes himself up from the bed, looking over at her as he shoves his bangs out of his eyes. He takes the few strides across the small space to her bedside and stares down at her, face blank but mind a little more than so.

She's so young, far younger than he is. There's only four years between them and yet she's still very much a child...or at least she should be. He knows most people her age haven't experienced even half of what she has and yet...she's experienced far less than he has. He's not a child anymore. He feels like he stopped being a child by the time he was eight years old.

She might have a chance to be a kid, even if it's just for some things. Could he possibly protect what little she has left?

He focuses. Her desire reaches out to him like the warmth that comes off a fire. It's a stark heat, obvious in its presence. She longs for Leonardo to be with her, to remind her that her dream world and reality are two very different places.

Diaval looks down at his hand, taking in the rough, scratched skin and the fingertips rubbed raw from years of archery practice. He's only ever used his magic to show people desires and use it for his own good, but...

"Haf'ta try," he mumbles, curling his long fingers into his palm.

He relaxes his hand and reaches out, touching his fingertips to Destiny's shoulder. He shuts his eyes and focuses every ounce of attention on her desire for the warm, strong comfort of a mutant turtle with eyes the colour of sapphires. He opens his eyes and sees what she sees.

She's back in the lair. There's a knock at her bedroom door and she sits up, wiping tears from her face.

"Y-Yes?" she stammers. There's slight confusion on her face but it doesn't linger long.

The door opens, casting a pool of light across the floor as the silhouette of Leonardo appears. He tilts his head as a gentle, calming expression floods his unmasked, sleepy face.

"Hey," he greets, his voice matching his appearance almost perfectly. "Nightmare again?"

Destiny nods, sniffing a few more times as she runs her hand beneath her nose. "Same as always," she mumbles.

He walks inside and climbs onto the bed, settling down next to her in a spot that's well-rehearsed for the two of them. She cuddles up to him with little hesitation, nuzzling her face against the soft spot of his shoulder where there's no shell or plastron in the way. His arm surrounds her, his hand rubbing circles against her skin in rhythm as he hums something to himself. The words are sometimes spoken and sometimes like a song, all in a language that Destiny doesn't know.

"What is that?" Destiny asks, already drowsy with sleep.

"It's a Japanese tale," Leonardo answers, his gaze on the ceiling. "The tale of the tongue-cut sparrow."

"Sounds interesting."

"Master Splinter used to read stories to the guys and I when we were little, from this book called 'Tales of Old Japan'. I always liked the tongue-cut sparrow."

"Tell me more," she whispers.

He smiles and rests a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I'll tell you all the stories you want."

Diaval shuts his eyes and reopens them to find himself back in the room. He never left, but sometimes he feels as if he has left when he looks into the visions he's caused in the minds of others. Destiny no longer cries, the sobs replaced with the softest of smiles, and she hugs a pillow beneath her head.

Diaval wanders back to bed.

This routine happens more often after that. Destiny doesn't notice a thing. Diaval never tells her.

----------

Destiny's eyes flutter open and take in the early morning sunlight creeping through the window. She groans and rubs her eyes, rolling over and mushing her face against the pillow. Another restless night for her. She glances across the room to where Diaval's bed is, tucked right next to another large window. It's empty, as it is most mornings, and looks as if it was hardly slept in.

The wolf mutant drags herself out of bed with another moan, raking her claws through her curls and scratching at the back of her neck. She wanders downstairs and heads into the bathroom, where she remains until she feels freshened up.

Upon leaving, she gets some breakfast for herself—consisting of peanut butter and homemade jam on toast and a glass of milk—and revels in the silence. Her gaze travels to the window and she notices Diaval for the first time today.

He's situated beneath one of the larger trees in the grove near their house, although she can't make out exactly what he's doing. There's a tire swing hanging from the strongest branch, although Destiny would be surprised if anyone has used it in the recent years. It dangles right near where the boy is sitting.

Destiny gets up and moves to the door, slipping on her shoes and grabbing her jacket. She goes outside and heads towards the trees and her newfound acquaintance.

His eyes are closed and his hair is loose from its usual ponytail, white locks framing his lean face and brushing his shoulders. One odd piece in the centre of his head sticks straight up, something Destiny has only noticed about his hair recently. His legs are crossed in front of him and he doesn't wear a shirt beneath the cloak he has pinned at his throat.

Destiny realizes as she gets nearer that he isn't seated on the ground, he's levitating a few inches or so in the air. "Diaval?" she asks.

His eyes snap open and in an instant, he's hit the earth. His eyelids squint for a split second as the only sign that the drop caused him discomfort.

"Mm?" he responds.

She wanders closer, moving past him towards the tire swing. "Sorry, I should've waited. You looked so focused," she says, turning back to face him.

"Nah, wasn't too into it," he says with one of his signature, apathetic shrugs. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, I was just wondering..." Her eyes brighten as she hooks her legs in the centre of the tire and sits down, swinging slightly as she does. "Have you always been able to levitate like that?"

"Not too much. Use it to steady m'self, stops from falling," he says, pivoting his body to face her without getting up.

She loops her arms around the rope holding the swing up, leaning her chin on her arm. "I want to know more about your magic."

He arches a pale eyebrow. "You do?"

"Mmhmm." She nods. "Like...how does the desire thing work? It seems kind of weird if you ask me."

His gaze flickers sideways as his jaw clenches, his odd tooth brushing his lip as it does. "Hate it."

She tilts her head. "Hate it?"

He exhales through his nose. "I...hate m' magic," he says. "It's not weird, it's stupid."

"Please explain."

He slowly turns his head, taking in the curiosity on her face and how genuine it is. His lower lip catches between his teeth and he releases it with a sigh. If there's one thing he can talk about with even a small amount of confidence, it's his magic, so what is there to worry about?

"People's desires are always changing..." he says, casting his gaze to the horizon as the wind rustles his long white hair. "Some stay longer than others, some change all the time." He taps his fingers against his knee. "Haf'ta be looking at the person to know their desire, control 'em. Can't see a picture of 'em. Haven't seen 'em, can't control 'em."

Destiny frowns a little. He doesn't meet her eyes. His hands knit together in his lap and he takes another slow breath that sounds like he's swallowing a deep yawn.

"So...Shredder wanted to control you from far away. That's why Stockman made the serum," he continues. "And, 'cause desires are always changing, the magic is useless for long...uh..."

"Periods of time?" she asks.

Diaval nods. "Yeah."

"Well...that doesn't seem entirely bad," she says, swinging her legs and causing her to rock to and fro in the tire. "I mean, you still control people."

He shakes his head. "They can resist it."

"Can anyone resist it?"

"Depends on the person," he answers. He looks at his hands, unfolding them so that he can see his palms. "Closer to the heart, harder to control," he explains further. "If...if you want money, it's easy to promise 'cause it's material. If you want someone who's died, it's easier to resist 'cause bringing back dead people isn't real."

He freezes, his jaw clenching as his gaze snaps to the horizon, distant. Destiny looks at her arms, her brain processing the new information as her eyes wander over the hairs lining her skin.

"If someone is gullible, does that change things?" she asks.

Diaval blinks rapidly, giving his head a quick jerk before he nods. "Uh...think so, yeah."

Her tail wags a little as she gets a certain thought. "Was I hard to control?"

"You wanna know?"

"I want to know if I at least made it difficult for you." Her lip quirks upwards into the faintest smile, but it's hiding a deeper feeling. It hides that a lot of the time nowadays.

His shoulders bounce and he starts to pick at his fingernails. "Yeah, you made it tough." He glances sideways at her for a moment. "You wanted family, but'cha didn't know what family's really like. Couldn't get'cha."

They're quiet for a moment. Destiny presses her mouth against the crook of her elbow, a low hum buzzing against her skin as she swings her legs a few times.

"Do you know what family is like?" she wonders, her voice edging on a softer tone.

Diaval's hands still in his lap and he doesn't say a word for a solid ten seconds. "Yeah," he mumbles. His tone is enough to signify that he'd rather not talk about it.

Silence reigns in their metaphorical kingdom once again.

Destiny mulls over the boy near her, especially with what he said about the desires and how close they are to the heart. As far as she knows, the opposite is more often true. It reminds her of some of the cheesy movies she's seen. The villains try their best to break the big, tough hero, but he doesn't budge. Not with torture, not with bribery, not with anything that they can muster. The villains grow desperate, so they pull out the big guns.

The hero is cocky. He knows that they won't hold him forever. He's about to win, to show that he's powerful and not so easily wrecked. The doors swing open and he believes that they're here to set him free, but it's not true. They have someone he cares about; his best friend, his wife, his lover, his son or daughter. The hero's face pales. The villains show their ugly smiles. The victim stares at the hero with tear-soaked, begging eyes. The hero can't take it. He can't lose them. He'd rather die than deal with losing them, and so that's what happens. He breaks. The villains have no more use for them. Lights out, curtains fall, the music swells, the end.

Destiny wonders why Diaval's magic works differently. Maybe it doesn't, but Diaval doesn't realize it. After all, he could be misinformed. Being in the Foot, Destiny imagines that he's only ever controlled money-hungry scumbags and those that aren't fooled by something as empty as a spoken promise.

She may never know.

"It's cold. Should go inside," Diaval speaks, getting to his feet and snapping Destiny from her thoughts. He ties his hair back into its usual ponytail, although so much hair escapes the hairband that it does little to get it out of his face.

A wind blows, alerting her to the chill in the air, and she nods in silent agreement. She slips out of the tire swing and scurries after him as he starts back towards the house.

"Diaval, I have one more question," she says.

"Yeah?"

"You can manipulate people and levitate," she reiterates, earning an affirmative nod. "Is that all your magic can do?"

He ponders her question as they walk. "Honestly...dunno," he admits. "Had powers for...nine years, maybe, only got one skill down."

"That's the desire thing."

"Mhmm." He bobs his head up and down. "Worked on hovering for awhile, then tried making armour, bow 'n arrows, maybe wings...hasn't really worked."

Destiny stops in place, her dark ears perking up, but he doesn't notice and keeps going. She recovers and catches up to him. "Hey, what if we trained together?" she asks.

"Huh?"

"I've got my uchigatana to practice with and ninjutsu that I don't want to get rusty with," she continues. "You want to find other ways to use your magic, so...how about I join you when you go and meditate by the tree in the morning?"

He stops and looks over his shoulder, taking in the tree before tilting his face back to the sky. His lips lift slightly. "Yeah, okay," he says. "Sounds nice."

They reach the house. He pulls the door open and holds it for her, allowing her to go in first. She kicks her shoes off, her tail starting to wag at the prospect of finding something familiar to grasp on to.