For a long time his family doubted she existed. They thought he had taken to day dreaming.
As frustrating as that was, he couldn't really find it in him to protest. He only ever found her when he was alone, and she was in trouble.
And he'd come home bewildered and happy. A smile plastered to his face and the bruises and scratches of any old scrap he got into when he'd been topside.
The stories he told about her were always short and warm. Which wasn't how he talked about anyone. And the fighting itself was never what he focused on.
He could give a play by play of every smirk and quip. 'Some goons in bandanas' was as far as he went into describing the fight.
His family members would listen, but share looks. And when he was teased about it, the hotheaded turtle would just say he'd take them there. He'd show them for himself.
And when they'd go, there'd be evidence of a fight. He could tell them exactly which way she went before she disappeared. 'Right over there, on top of that crane. Then she swung off the wrecking ball and was gone'.
It wasn't until a fight was on the news, and the shadowy pixalated figures were enlarged on Donatellos computer, that the serious questions came out.
Next to the easily clocked silhouette of their brother, spinning his Sai's and brandishing his teeth. Was a lithe, but powerful figure. Whipping and snapping a long tail, capable of climbing vertically and jumping higher than any of the mutant Turtles could.
Who was she?
Could they trust her?
Did she know where they lived?
Tell us everything, where did you first meet this person?
Dibs! Smack!
What did he think he was doing?
What? She might be the only mutant girl in the world! Smack!
Why did he never call for help?
What was the nature of their relationship?
It was too much. And the indignation boiled over. They'd never belived him.
"Forgive me my son, a freind, someone like us. It sounded too good to be true. Tell us more?"
"A girlfriend!" Michellangelo was compelled to blurt out. This time both Donatello and Leonardo reached back to smack the back of his head. Smack! Smack! "Ouch!"
"How do you contact this person?" Splinter asked.
His frustrated son shrugged. "I don't. She finds me, we beat someone up, then she's on her way."
"Is there anywhere in particular she tends to find you?" Donatello queoried.
Raphs mouth twitched. "The peir," he muttered.