A/N: So. Here we have it, a moment many readers may've been wondering about for years. It's been bouncing around in my head for a while, and since I'm still struggling with 'Distance,' I thought "What the hell?" I'd say enjoy, but this is the moment Mel loses all hope. Hopefully, it brings into context her actions from 'Hollow Hearts.'

CAUSE AND EFFECT: UNWANTED

Melody was in love. In. L. O. V. E. Which, turns out, is far different than simply loving someone. The feeling ran deeper, enveloped her like sticky tar, changed her, and she hated it.

Hated how just the thought of seeing that Damn Mechanic left her stomach knotted with hope. Hated being under the spell of his dorkish gap-tooth smile and laugh, his conversation and quick wits. It made concentration difficult, especially in his presence. Studying her med books? Impossible. Practicing with his bō stick? Also impossible. Treating patients? Likewise, if he's handing out praises over her 'genius work' because she 'deserves' it. And forget their collaborative projects and trips to the Reservoir; being that secluded with him made her feel sillier than usual.

Yeah, silly. The redhead groaned, pulling back her coarse dreadlocks into a presentable ponytail. Wait. Why did she care if her hair looked decent? She groaned again. See? This is what she meant by silly. She fretted over the dumbest things, like if her face was clean or if her toned figure looked good in her over-sized sweater or if the mutant even fancied humans.

Ugh, fancied?

'Come on, Gray,' she told herself. 'Snap out of it.'

But she knew better. She'd fall deeper and deeper as she had over the last few months, and one day, she'd admit as much. Or the guy would notice. If he hadn't already…

"Mel? You home?"

Ugh, his stupid voice made Melody grin like some school girl idiot. "Yes," she answered—way too high for normal; she actually sounded like a young woman.

"Ready?" The Damn Mechanic seemed amused. Probably laughed.

The redhead shook a blush from her clean face then inhaled, turning on her heel. "Don't get your shell in a bunch. I'm coming."

"I swear"—Melody sent Donatello a sidelong glance as she swallowed her popcorn—"you're one of the dumbest smart people I know."

"Aw, you think I'm smart," the Damn Mechanic countered. He caught another piece of popcorn in his mouth, just after Marty McFly held a once-thought-dead Doctor Brown.

"It was a stupid decision," Mel added.

"It's a movie."

"Didn't stop you from explaining the complexities of space-time displacement."

"Couldn't help myself. But, really." Don flashed that dorkish grin of his. "Can you blame Doc? Anyone with a sense of self-preservation would've acted."

"But you said tampering with the space-time continuum often resulted in…what did you call them? Time aberrations? Fractures?"

"Which, in the end, might be what the universe wanted all along. It's all a paradox, which is why I actively avoid time travel. Unless ya know, some air-headed Time Sorcereress kidnaps me."

Mel raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, right."

"True story. Got stranded in Fifteenth-Century Earth."

"Bullshit."

"With my brothers. Got to wear some nifty, if not restricting, knight armor."

"Uh-huh."

"And we fought zombies." Don's dorky smile grew the longer the redhead stared. "I've lived a full life. Seen things that defy all logic. That's why I love science and inventing so much. It gives definitive, cogent results."

The mutant chuckled, watching the ancient mini TV he had set up to play 'Back to the Future.' The black and white movie hardly held any more interest; Melody was mesmerized by Donatello's profile against the orange-haze sky. Who'd have thought that the stout-beaked, green complexion of a mutated turtle would've made her pulse race? Not her, let alone Fray or Carlos or her mother. They never got a chance to give her advice for these circumstances, and she gulped. She was staring too long, yet couldn't look away. He was just so…handsome.

"Uh, Mel? Something wrong?"

Everything was wrong. Like how Melody's insides lurched at the Damn Mechanic's voice and how her throat suddenly dried up. Worse still, his gaze—those chocolate brown eyes that reminded her of the candy she despised—paralyzed her on the hood of the junkyard car the two reclined along. Don scooted up further on the cracked windshield, reaching towards Mel.

"I love you!" she blurted. The defense worked; his hand stopped short of her heated skin. The downside was that her long-kept secret had been released.

"Wh—what?" Don asked.

"I—I—" Mel's muscles tensed and her voice shook with her wavering resolve. "Th—this is out of left field, I know. Trust me. I—I've been struggling to come to terms for a long time. I mean, there's so much that comes along with…with this. Is it ethical? Can't be Bestiality, cant it? I've studied your genes. You're no more animal than I am, just with a few, obvious differences. It—it's rather remarkable. But that isn't to say you fancy humans."

"Fancy?"

"I'm not all that attractive compared to my species, either. My voice is mistaken for a young man. My face sometimes, too. My skin is weathered. I smell awful. And I know at times I can be as much fun as Shingles, but"—Mel drew in air—"but if I keep this in anymore, I'll go crazy. So…"

Donatello remained frozen, his arm still outstretched and his gap-tooth expression unreadable. Why didn't he move? Say something? Her confession couldn't have been that mortifying. Could it?

"Mel." The way Don started to speak sent chills through the redhead's fingers and toes. "Uh, I—I don't know what to say." She knew what she wanted him to say. His sorrowful look proved he wouldn't, however. "I—I don't think you're a good idea."

Mel fought for her voice. "Not…not a good idea?"

"I'm sorry. It—it's probably best I don't get involved with you."

What did that mean?

"Mel, you're an incredible human."

Why was he distancing their species?

"You're smart, compassionate in your own way, and I enjoy your dry humor. But…"

But what?

"We're best off as friends, ya know? I love being friends."

Loved being friends, but didn't love her; that's what he meant. Had she been someone else—prettier, smarter, less bitchy, a mutant—he'd love her. Were she better, he'd love her. That's what he meant.

"S—s—sorry, Mel," Don added. "I hope this doesn't change things. I do like you."

But he didn't love her. Mel's frayed fingernails scratched the car hood she sat on as she tasted bile in her throat. Donatello seemed clueless about her pain. Or didn't like her enough to care.

He flashed an awkward smile, scratching where his shoulder skin grew into his top scutes. "We're good, yeah? We can be friends still. I—I'm sure you'll find someone in the future." Half Don's smile grew, but his Doctor Brown's impersonation was humorless at that point. "Sorry. I—I think Mikey needed me at home for…something. Keep the movie. I'll buy another copy later. I'll, uh, I'll call you. Kay?"

Melody heard the mutant retreat—the scrape of carapace against the hood's rusted paint, the thump of his giant feet in the littered junkyard, and the rattling chain-link fence when he jumped it. Were those noises real, though? As real as her sunken stomach and pulsating ears? They were.

"You idiot," she whispered. "What did you do?"

Took a risk. And fell. Hard. It should be damn impossible for a person to feel like gravity multiplied yet it did. It pushed down with the weight of a granite slab, and her tense nerves loosened as she slid from the car hood. She couldn't stand; her weak knees and shaky limbs brought her to the ground. And her lower jaw trembled when she realized she hadn't been wanted.

All those months hoping, wondering, daydreaming, for naught. Donatello didn't want her, didn't love her. And why would he? Her own birth mother had left her to rot with the trash. Then those who cared for her tended to end up dead. Really, it was only a matter of time before Sven and Tabitha left her, too. The mutant was far too smart to become part of that legacy, and when she thought about it, Mel grew hot.

The redhead stood to grab the TV. 'How could you be so dumb?' She spun, snarled as she tossed the TV towards the hood. The cracked windshield busted. 'You should've kept your damn mouth shut! Then you wouldn't…wouldn't have to feel…'

Hurt. No, worse than hurt. Lost. Sick. Unwanted. Why was she always so unwanted? By the one who gave birth to her. By society. Now by her Damn Mechanic in the way it mattered most.

Melody growled. It would be better not to feel anything, she decided. Without hope, there could be no disappointment. Without trust, there could be no betrayal. Without love, there could be no pain. And she was in such pain that her tears would not cease and her body curled inward.