"Another night of nothing," the girl sighed to herself. She yawned, stretching, the stench of the sewers nothing more than background smell now. After searching for what seemed like forever, the smell became normal and stopped bothering.

The map in her hand was crumbled with wear and after the many times she'd been down here, she didn't need it anymore. It was more a security than anything; maybe even a habit. She prepared to climb up the latter, another night of nonsuccess, when something caught her attention.

There was an echo of a sneeze around her. Her heart tensed and her breathing ceased. Was this finally the break she had been waiting for? She looked around, straining her eyes to see as much as they could, the dark now a friend to her vision. "Oh my god," she whispered hopefully. Her ears strained to hear any rustle of water, movement, breathing, anything. Her head almost hurt from the concentration she was straining herself to take. "Come on . . ."

And she heard it again, a hurried whisper and shushing. Her feet bolt in that direction, tripping over ledges and willing herself not to lose the only lead she had. She turned a corner, slipping and scraping her knee, and toppled into a strong, muscular chest. "Ah!" Her heart thumped and her breathing came in short, high pitch gasps of anxiousness. Arms were at her side and she looked up into the face of muscle mass before her.

It was Michelangelo. His light green face beamed a smile, his orange bandana present. She willed herself to speak, to say something, anything! But her voice was lost. In this most precious and crucial moment her voice was lost and her stomach was a sea of anxiety, excitement, and bile. She could feel herself wanting to cry, vomit, and scream all at once, her heaving chest going a million miles a minute. She sweat and her body began to shake.

His smile turned into a look of worry and for an instant she was afraid he would leave. She reached out to touch him with her shaking hands and he put his hands on her shoulders. She gasped at the touch of that plastron, stretched out against his muscular chest. His skin was tough and she could feel his massive heart beat under his flesh. She tried to speak again but only her mouth moved and she almost cried out in frustration of her own impotence at a time such as this.

"Uhm, you ok?"

His voice startled her and she cried out, gasping and laughing at once, her hands flying to her face. "Michelangelo . . ." She finally managed to whisper.

"Yeah, that's my name. Yours?"

But she couldn't speak anymore; she could simply stand there and touch him more, as if she was afraid this was a figment of her imagination and she needed more tangible evidence than what she saw before her.

"Michelangelo . . ."

"Mikey! We told you not to let her see you!" came an annoyed voice. Her face immediately looked behind and around him and saw a large turtle with a blue bandana walking towards them.

"L – Leonardo . . ." She gasped again, her voice cracking and her chest feeling like a ton was sitting on it, inhibiting her ability to breathe.

"Donatello?" She looked around and saw the genius coming up from behind and she almost broke down in tears. She looked around herself. They were there. They were really there. In front of her and they were massive muscle monsters and she almost fainted.

"Hey dudes! Check it out! She knows our names!"

"We can see that Mikey." Donatello waved at her and Leonardo shook his head in frustration.

"Ok, so now that you've met her can we – "

"What's the hold up?!" The shaking girl yelped and turned to see the final turtle. Raphael.

She couldn't hold it back anymore. The girl cried out and tears came down her face, shaking hands covering her mouth in disbelief. The massive turtle was an intimidating sight and he stood wide and proud, threatening almost but not dangerous. "R – Raphael?"

"Hey." His short answer received another yelp and gasp from the shaking figure.

"Oh my gosh . . . oh my gosh!"

"You alright there?" Michelangelo reached to set his hand on her shoulder, but she moved towards Raphael, who in turn took a step back.

"Raphael . . ." Her hands gripped her mouth and stomach, she could feel herself about to vomit from the anxiety but she wasn't ready yet. She had to touch him. "Oh my gosh, Raphael . . ."

Her shaking hands reached out and met with his hard torso. "Raphael! Oh my gosh! You're here! And real! And oh my gosh!"

She shook and laughed with hysteria, the dizziness setting in. She could feel her legs about to give out and she fell forward onto him, his massive hands taking hold of her small body with ease. Her hands explored what she could feel and she forced herself to remember how his large wonderful hands felt against her.

"Whoa, hey, you're bleeding. Are you sure you're alright?" Donatello motioned to her face and to her embarrassment she found she was bleeding from her nose.

"Oh my gosh!" She fell forward, out of Raphael's hands to prevent blood from getting on him. "I'm sorry!" She landed on her hands and knees, the blood dripping onto the sewer floor in front of her, her body convulsing as the vomit built up inside of her.

"Raphael! What did you do to her?!" Leonardo cried at him.

"I didn't do nothin' to the girl! She's the one doing this to herself!"

"Oh my gosh! Oh my, ah!" She lurched forward and vomited into the sewer water at her head.

"She's really sick. What's your name?" Donatello asked behind her, taking her small waist in his hands. He could see her arms shaking, and was afraid they would give. He didn't want her landing face first in the sewer water.

"E – Evelyn – ah – "She vomited into the water, her body weak, blood still dripping from her face. She cried through the sick. "I'm so sorry," she whispered miserably. She finally found him. She had finally found Raphael and this was how she was in front of him. She wailed in her misery through the nonstop flow of sick and she dared a glance at him.

His face was of shock. Not disgust or anger; but just plain shock. "Hey, did I do somethin'?"

Evelyn pathetically crawled to his feet and shook her head, touching his massive toes with her shaky, sweating hand. "No, nothing," she whispered. She smiled up at him, through the sweat, blood, vomit, and tears and she fell onto his legs, unconscious.

Hello readers! This is just a rant of what I would be like if I ever met Raphael. This is pretty accurate since the very thought of ever meeting him has me feeling just like this. (I actually got a nosebleed from the anxiety the other day. It's horrible.) This isn't to reflect everyone, but me. I would literally faint and scream and panic and vomit and such. So review if you'd like; this is a oneshot more than likely. But I had to write this!

Love, moon-bunny15

Twitter: moonbunny15 for updates and what's next!