FULL SUMMARY: After tragedy scares the brothers away from patrol, Turtle Luck sets off a domino effect stemmed from Mikey's kindness. It forces the brothers to face an imbalance within their hearts while solving the mystery around Nia Anders. Tension runs deep, alliances forge, enemies rise, and relationships are tested. Will truth bring balance to the clan? Or will chaos consume them before they save anyone? [BOOK 1]

DISCLAIMER: TMNT belongs to Eastman, Laird, and Nick. All OCs and the story-line, however, belong to me.

A/N: Welcome, Dudes and Dudettes, to "Finding Balance," the first installment in the "Cause and Effect Saga." This is my very first TMNT fanfic, and I hope you enjoy it. :)

UPDATED NOTES: I'm giving the story a much-needed grammar overhaul. As such, my review replies in author notes will be erased because I'm not crazy enough to retype all that crap...


CHAPTER 01: COPING

The shoji screen slid shut behind Hamato Leonardo with a 'thunk' before he ventured forward.

"My son, have you brought tea?" Splinter's question barely carried across the room lit by thousands of candles. Still, his son's skilled ears picked it up. The Jonin nodded, watching behind pained eyes as his father lifted his body from a worn futon.

"I have, Otōsan," Leo answered. His feet were silent against the tatami mats as he arrived by Splinter's side. "I even added honey and lemon."

The mutant rat pushed his comforter to his waist then situated himself into a seated position. "Such actions were unnecessary," he said. Withered paws reached for the steaming mug that Leonardo offered, trembling. "Jasmine's natural flavors are soothing enough."

"Perhaps." Leo smiled. "But since you've been drinking so much recently, I thought a little spice would be a nice change."

Splinter spared a moment to savor the beverage then spoke again, "Thank you, Leonardo. This brew does my spirit good."

Leon hummed his approval then kneeled on a thin pillow that served as a zabuton beside his father's futon. Carefully—so as not to seem obvious—he studied the master for any signs of discomfort. He found none, save for some stiff movement.

Splinter enjoyed his tea in silence, which brought a sparkle to the old rat's eye that cast a smile on Leonardo's face. That is until his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

Within the last year, the Hamato brothers had noticed something discouraging. Old age was creeping up on their father. At first, it didn't seem like such a terrible occurrence. Everyone ages, after all, and it had been years since the master last fought in a battle worthy of his skills.

Even so, when the mutant rat's health shifted from incapable of performing a strong kick to hardly walking, the siblings' worry grew tenfold. Splinter's movements became rigid, his balance unsteady. Now he spent more time in bed than anywhere else. Times had passed where he instructed a lesson or caught-up on his 'stories.' Said days were few and far between, though.

Too far for Leonardo's liking.

Splinter hated how his sons fretted. Yet how could a son not worry for their parent? Didn't the clan's health fall under Leo's responsibility as Jonin, as a leader? Perhaps overcaution drowned out reasoning. Perhaps Leo assumed too much. Still, he found himself succumbing to fear.

'I'm being silly,' the mutant thought. 'This must be Arthritis. He doesn't want to bother April, but I should ask her if anything can be done. See if she can get medicine for his joints. He'll bounce back eventually. He has to…'

"Leonardo."

"Yes, Sensei?"

Sighing, Splinter shook his head. "I am alright."

"I know," Leo said with a frown. "I just wish there was something more I could do."

"There is. Continue looking after your brothers. Give them guidance and strength to keep them on the right path. Knowing you have such matters handled brings me peace."

Leonardo flinched. "Sensei? I know you mean well, but…can you please not talk like that? It sounds too much like what one would say on their—"

"I will not live forever," Splinter interjected, solemn. "But my time is not now, nor anytime soon. Do not worry." The master outstretched an arm and placed a hand over that of his pupil's.

Leonardo's throat tightened at such a frail site. "How can you be so sure? I've seen how suddenly life can change. That can't happen with you."

A pregnant pause followed—thick and unsettling—until Splinter broke it.

"Where are your brothers?" he asked.

"Well," started Leo, "Don's working. He's been pulling longer shifts than I'd like. Raph's with Casey. Told him I was against him patrolling, but asusual,he blew me off. Mike's sleeping, I think. He's been spending a lot of time in his room."

"Raphael is topside?" A vague emotion washed over the elder mutant. Even Leonardo was unable to tell if his master was relieved or anxious.

"Yes," Leo replied, "though he may not be having such a good time."

"Why do you say that?"

The Jonin grinned. "Just desserts."


Hamato Raphael glared at the rain falling beyond Second Time Around's front windows. It was late Friday night, and he had planned to patrol with his best friend. Their plans, however, were put on hold due to a sudden, impressive storm. While a drizzle may have been bearable, a late-summer torrent was another matter.

"Damn weather!" Raph yelled, his Brooklyn accent clear and heated. "This is just our luck!"

"Least we know there ain't gunna be scum hangin' around tonight," Casey added in a similar accent. "Ya can't even see a foot in front 'a ya."

"Shut up, Case."

"Oi,I didn't make it rain."

"You boys still moping?" An amused voice captured the males' attention.

They turned from the shop's register desk to face April. She shut the door that led to her apartment and flashed a lopsided grin before retrieving a box of packed dishware located on a nearby countertop.

"What do ya think, Ape?" Raph asked. "I was really lookin' forward ta bashin' some heads in."

April shot the mutant a sharp look then transported her new burden to a display shelf at store's center.

"Don't mind him, Babe," Casey said. "He's just goin' stir-crazy. It's been a while since our last patrol."

"How long exactly?" Backpedaling from the unpacked box, April glanced in her friends' direction.

"Forever," Raph mumbled. Neither human noted it.

"Uh…" Casey paused for several moments. "Three weeks?"

"Five," Raph corrected.

"Really? Don't feel like it."

April giggled—an act which earned a glare from her mutant friend. "Having a job does that, Casey," she said. "All the days blend together to the point where you can't tell when's Wednesday and when's Monday. Well, maybe you can tell with Monday."

Casey joined in her laughter. "I've noticed."

"How fortunate for ya." Although his attention had already returned to the storm, Raphael could sense the man's displeasure.

"Ya don't gotta bite our heads off," Casey snapped. "It's just a little rain. We'll patrol later."

"Sure. Whatever."

"Look." The broad-shouldered human moved, so he stood before Raph. "Pick a night. If I don't got it off, I'll request it. How about that? What's wit' the damn face?"

"Raph, are you okay?" April asked. Her annoyance morphed into concern, and she stopped tinkering with a tea set to approach her friend.

Raph, however, shrugged off the hand she placed on his shoulder. "I'm peachy," he hissed.

"You don't seem 'peachy.'"

"I'm fine."

"I beg ta differ," added Casey. His tone was gruff from his own temper. "Generally, when ya say ya're fine, it means the opposite."

The Chūnin glared. "Ya don't get it, do ya?"

"Get what? Yer broodiness? Not at all."

"Seriously? I've been lookin' forward ta this night all week."

"Ya sound like a girl, Man."

"Fuck off! It's not like we can go patrollin' on a whim anymore. No, ya had ta go an' become 'responsible,' get a job."

"I need money ta live, Raph. Ya expect me ta scrounge for the rest 'a my life?"

"Course not! But we barely…" Raph's voice trailed off into a sigh, though his jaw and fists remained clenched.

For a long moment, the trio remained silent. Then, April moved forward.

"Raph," she started softly, "if it's more than missing Casey or patrol, you can tell us."

Raphael's gaze met April, questioning yet also contemptuous.

After a deep breath, the redhead continued. "Irritability is natural, especially for you. But letting that baggage fester isn't healthy. I mean…there wasn't much you could've done."

"That ain't got anythin' ta do wit' this, April," Raph spat.

"It doesn't?"

"No. I just needed some fun. Leo keeps us on lockdown, an' every chance I get ta do somethin' wit Casey, shit gets in the way. Always!" Growling, Raph drove his foot into the register desk's broadside. The force of his toes cracked the plywood and caused several antiques on its surface to vibrate dangerously.

"Watch it, Raph!" snapped April. "Those rare items are on layaway. If you must to take your anger out on something, Casey's right there."

"Hey!" Casey cried.

"Listen," the redhead continued, "I know life's been tough. I really, really do." The pleading in her tone nearly convinced the mutant that she did. "It hurts since you guys won't confide in me. Not even Donny. I—I can't do anything more than lend an ear. Sometimes that's enough, though. Not to seem insensitive, but some things…some things you—you just have to let go. Otherwise," April shook her head, her voice lowering to a whisper, "they'll destroy you."

"What are ya, my psychiatrist?" Raph snorted. "I hear enough 'a this crap from Master Splinter. I don't need it from ya too."

A frown settled on April's face, and she gritted her teeth at the mutant's nonchalant wave. "Will you take me seriously?"

"Sorry, Ape. Lettin' go ain't easy."

"I never said it was."

"Ya don't know anything, so let me be."

"I can't, Raph. All I want is to help. But you guys won't let me. Why?" Tears welled in April's eyes. She took cautious steps towards the Chūnin and the moment her fingertips brushed his bicep, he backed away as if avoiding acid.

"I don't need help," he said.

"Raph—"

"Rain's stopped. Suddenly, I don't feel like goin' out."

"C'mon, Man," Casey interjected. "What about our plan?"

Amber eyes met those of steely blue. 'We could go,' Raph thought, 'but he'd pry the whole time. It's none 'a their business how I cope.'

In the end, Raph saw his way to the store's back door. He heard the claps of Casey's boots against the wood floor as the man raced forward, although they ceased when April spoke up.

"It wasn't your fault," she said. "It wasn't any of your faults."

The mutant almost cringed, his fingers gripping the back door's handle. "Tell that to them," he muttered.

Then, he was gone.


Despite Hamato Michelangelo's cautiousness with the weather forecast, Turtle Luck seemed to favor that rare two-percent of participation. It hadn't been a light shower, either. It had been a downpour of pins and needles that numbed his body even in the warm temperature of an August night.

Naturally, the Chūnin had failed to dress for such an occasion. By the time he found refuge beneath a manhole cover, his hoodie and sweatpants were drenched. He had stripped and stuffed the clothes in his duffle bag not ten minutes ago, but shivers still wracked his body.

"I better not get sick," Mikey said through chattering teeth.

Rubbing his biceps, he sneezed then grimaced at the thought of being bed-ridden with a cold. No doubt Leo would fuss over him as he did with their father. Though the youngest Hamato disliked the idea of explaining why he was sick more so than actually being ill. After all, he was supposed to be sleeping.

'But how could I?' he thought. 'It's Friday. I can't stop cold turkey. Not yet. Leo says my visits are unhealthy. The way I see it, they have their own means of coping. Why deny me mine?'

"Leo just doesn't want me away from the Lair," Mikey told no one in particular. "Overprotective dope. Hum…maybe I should wait before heading home. At least until these shivers stop."

Yeah, that sounded like a grand idea. Mikey nodded in approval, convinced until a raspy noise stopped him.

Eee! Hoo! Eee! Hoo!

'What was that?'

Michelangelo's shoulder jerked and his breath hitched as he surveyed his surroundings. The underground lighting revealed little about the grimy tunnels. Even so, Mikey's eyes were trained for darkness. As far as his baby blues could tell, he trekked home solo. Then again, these old passages were famous for carrying sound, so pinpointing the noise's origin was near impossible.

Mikey shivered.

Anything could be out there. Giant spiders whose sizes rivaled double-decker buses. Evolved sharks that now walked on land. Deranged hobos feasting on rotten trash. Rabid strays from New Y'Lyntius. Mikey considered all these plots viable and feared discovering which one was reality.

Leonardo—even Donatello—held stronger nerves when it came to eerie mysteries. Not this Hamato brother. He considered turning back, choosing an alternate route. Unfortunately, said route involved going topside again.

'I can't get any wetter than this. Leo would grill me if he found out. Guess it's possible the creepy sounds are just, ya know, monsters. I can handle monsters. Sort'a…Man, what to do?'

Groaning, the Chūnin chose the lesser of two evils. With baited breath and a pounding heart, he tiptoed forward. A new shiver ran up his spine. Still, he continued towards a bend in the waterway. The strange sounds increased in volume, and after rounding the corner, Mikey could identify them without a doubt.

'Hyperventilating? Why on earth is someone down here?'

The gallant mutant longed to cry out, 'Don't worry, I got ya!' But chances were slim that he'd be well-received, even if he were human. New Yorkers cherished cynicism as a survival tool. This tool made it difficult for the Hamato brothers to earn anyone's approval. Forget the fact they were in a sewer.

'Alright, slow an' easy it is. Slow an' easy.'

Michelangelo remained within the tunnel's darkness as he crept closer. A figure slouched against the curved wall, heaving. Judging by the vague silhouette, it had to be a female whose hips were notably wider than her shoulders. When his eyes adjusted further, Mikey noted dirt soiling everything from her ripped jeans and comic-print shirt to her Converse and frazzled, dark hair. In all honesty, it looked like she'd skidded several feet in a barren baseball field after being denied a shower for a month.

'Bet she's seen better days.'

Mikey halted at the shadow's boundary to study the pale young woman. She cringed, and her fingernails scraped the concrete behind her in slow, shaky motions. Though not a medic, Michelangelo had seen enough television to know she'd pass out if not calmed. Not that it'd be too terrible since it meant the absence of premature accusations and screaming. Still, the mutant couldn't abandon someone in the rain. Besides, who would she be left with even if he did find convenient shelter?

'If worse comes to worse, I'll get April. Until then, here goes nothing.'

"Excuse me, are you okay?" The brunette gave no answer, so Michelangelo repeated, "Are you okay?"

Again, no answer. Mikey frowned. Maybe she couldn't hear over her hyperventilating?

"Hey!" the Chūnin cried. "Are you okay?"

As Mikey's question echoed off the walls, the brunette's breathes slowed enough for her to talk between breaths, "Leonardo DaVinci's—Mona Lisa—was once—valued—at a—hundred million—dollars. It's worth—has only—skyrocketed—"

"Uh…"

"Edgar Degas—became so—infatuated—with ballet dancers—that he— felt—compelled to—to represent them—in his works—"

"M—Miss?"

"The first pigments—used in—paintings—were ground from—earth—minerals—and—and organic—matter—"

"Miss?"

"The word 'cartoon'—originates from—"

"Miss, please! You gotta calm down. Now."

The young woman grew silent, rigid. Nothing more than her puffing chest and searching eyes moved as she sunk further down the sloped wall. Instinct urged Michelangelo towards deeper shadows, yet the brunette's vision soon glanced over him near half a dozen times. This built confidence in his position, so he remained still.

"There you go," he said.

The brunette pressed herself against the wall then swallowed, whispering, "So yo—I mean, I'm really being…talked to?"

"Uh, yes?"

"Wh—where are you?"

"Close enough to see you're about to pass out."

"Y—you won't… hurt me…will you?"

The orange-masked mutant shook his head, although he couldn't be seen. "No. I'm here to help, actually. You seem…uncomfortable."

"I—I—I—" Labored inhaling cut off the brunette, and Mikey frowned.

"Come on now," he urged. "Take deep breaths."

"C—c—can't. T—too hard."

"No, it isn't. You were doing it earlier. Not fully, but it was a start."

The young woman shook her head of wild hair, now clenching her chest and screwing her eyes shut. "N—no. Can't. Claustro—phobic."

"Well, that's…perfect. What are you doing here then?" If her sniffles were any indicator, her trip down under wasn't by choice. "Hey," Mikey attempted to regain the brunette's attention. "It's fine. You don't have to tell me. Just let me help, alright?"

Slowly, she nodded.

"Okay," Mikey said, "but you gotta promise something first."

The brunette's eyes shot open. "L—like what?"

"Don't be scared. It'll help you breathe. Kay?"

"O—Okay."

"Close your eyes and keep them closed. Imagine you're in a wide, open field surrounded by fresh air and blue skies. You're free with no worries." As he spoke, Mikey inched towards the young woman until he stood beside her. She twitched but never disobeyed. "Keep that one thought in mind," Mikey added. "I'll take you topside then you'll need to find your own way home. Sound good?"

"U—uh-huh."

"Cool. I'm gunna take your hand, alright? Pretend I'm, uh, your brother."

"I—I'm an only child."

"So I'm your father, uncle. Whoever you feel most comfortable around. Now, I don't need a home address, but a general direction would help."

The brunette hesitated, but after some thought said, "I—I live east of—of Central Park, between Yorkville a—a—and Upper East Side. Near eighty-fourth and fifth."

"Dude, that's, like, over twenty-five blocks away. I'll take you as far north as I can. How about that? Grab my arm and follow me." Michelangelo placed his forearm—wrapped snuggly in his damp sweatpants—under the brunette's hand then began walking.

The journey was quiet, sans the faint noise of rushing water. The brunette seemed content in her dreamscape, and Mikey refused to rob that comfort from her by asking questions. He kept a steady pace instead, debating on a good place to surface. He resolved to use the manhole cover located in an alley on East Fifty-Fifth Street. The young woman tripped when Michelangelo stopped, even though there was nothing to trip on.

'Silly girl,' Mikey thought, head shaking.

"Here we are," he said. "I'll let you climb the ladder. Towards the left, there's a bus stop. It's not too late, so they should still be picking up. Sorry if it's still raining. This is the best I can do."

"Th—that's fine," the brunette replied.

Reluctant, she released Mikey's arm then opened her eyes for the first time in half an hour. She blinked at the empty space Michelangelo left, and when she twisted her head over her shoulder, the mutant repressed a chuckle. Several more moments she stood there as if testing if she were alone before climbing the ladder. She left behind nothing more than a soft 'thanks.'

Mikey smiled at the manhole cover as it slid back in place, whispering, "You're welcome."


A/N: Hope you enjoyed the start to this adventure. Aint Mikey a sweetie?