I wondered why she was crying.

It wasn't as though I was spying on her or anything. I just happened to be passing through on my way home from April's. I was on a low rooftop when I stopped for a breather, enjoying the surprisingly serene night. As I looked around, I noticed one open window in the building across from me with a light on. And seeing the glare of a computer monitor within, I couldn't stifle my curiosity.

I was initially attracted to the machine. It was a brand new silver laptop, possibly a Sony Vaio. I knew it to be one of the more reliable computers on the market. And yet… it was hooked up to a monstrosity of a printer. A Compaq inkjet from 1999 or 2000, given the looks of it. The scene confused me all the more when I saw a young woman sitting at the kitchen table upon which all of this was set up. She was crying. Sobbing, to be more specific.

Computer issues, no doubt. That's what first sprung to mind, anyway. I know that, even as computer-savvy as I am, technology still has the potential to misbehave so badly that it sometimes makes me want to either break down in frustrated tears or beat it with my bo.

Upon closer inspection, though, I saw that this wasn't the case. I looked to see what was on her screen, wondering if maybe her computer had some kind of nasty virus. Not that I could have done anything about it, of course, but it was still the sort of thing I'm interested in. Edging closer, I saw what she was looking at. It looked like an Adobe file with safety regulations and employee orientation information… for Burger King.

I looked at the woman again. It was hard to figure out her age, but judging by her posture and the Hunter College hoodie she was wearing, I'd guess that she was possibly in her early twenties. There was a wrinkled sheet of paper besides her that looked like a résumé. Tilting my head, I jumped from the rooftop onto the window sill, peering in at her.

"Melinda, what are you still doing up?" I flinched and edged back out as an older woman came into the room, standing behind her. Considering the way the girl quickly wiped her face, I could tell that this woman was her mother. "You know you have to be at training all day tomorrow."

"Yeah," Melinda replied, clearing her throat. "Yeah, um… I'm just watching the last training video before bed. And taking some more notes. Right." I looked at her quizzically as she raised the hood up over her head, probably in an attempt to keep her eyes hidden from her mother.

After a moment of silence, her mother gently said, "Melinda, it's Burger King. Not the Fundamentals of Aerodynamics. You're not going to have to write a thesis on it. Just go to bed and stop feeling the need to pull an all-nighter. All right?"

"Right. Sure." Melinda began typing something into her computer. After a while, her mother finally left. Melinda waited a moment before she ceased typing and yanked her hood down, running a hand through her hair.

Well, there's an answer. Melinda appeared to be a recent college graduate, and now she was working at Burger King. I suppose I can see why the waterworks would take over for a bit. After a deep breath, she got up, hardly looking like she had been crying at all.

Something about her expression bothered me. I don't know what it was, precisely, but… I felt a chill. She shut down her laptop and disconnected it from the printer. Though she treated the computer with the utmost care, she didn't seem to worry too much about leaving the printer alone. I didn't blame her. No one would want to steal an outdated hunk of junk like that.

When she shut the light and left the room, I snuck in through the window. I don't know why, and I'm not usually one to act on impulse. Still, that look on her face disturbed me, and I'll only know the reason behind it if I know a little bit more about the situation.

I glanced into the hallway that she had just disappeared through. One of the doors was open and there was a light shining from within. I waited a little while, not moving until I saw that larger light replaced by a much smaller one. She was either still working or decided to read before bed. Old study habits must die hard.

I walked over to the small kitchen area and looked down at the messy table at which Melinda had been seated. To my knowledge, the printer wasn't at all compatible with the laptop that she had been using. She was probably trying to print something out on her new computer and started becoming frustrated when she saw that her printer was now rendered useless. Probably more copies of her résumé, is what I would think.

The crumpled piece of paper that was her résumé caught my eye, and I picked it up and looked it over. Suddenly, I think I knew why the look on her face bothered me. A Bachelor's degree in applied physics, with a minor in biology and education. A member of the chemistry club for four years. Several prestigious awards for her findings on the allelopathic effects of certain species of sunflowers. And no outlet with which to display her vast knowledge. Her expression struck a chord with me because I've seen it a thousand times… in the mirror.

A slightly distant, jaded look, mixed with the occasional friendly smile and kind word, maybe with a pinch of sarcasm that passes off as a sense of humor. The look that says, "I should be on top of the world, but I'm forced to the bottom of the food chain for reasons beyond my control." Oh, I know that song. I sing it myself every night.

There was a difference between Melinda and I, though. As hopeless as it might seem for her right now, she's got the benefit of at least belonging to the same species as the dominant race of the planet. Even if I did find a scientist who was in the market for a new apprentice, it wasn't likely that he was going to accept a mutant turtle as his aide.

There was no need to turn this into a pity fest for myself. Looking back towards the dim light, I gripped the résumé a little more tightly. I would be able to make it to the lair and back in half an hour, if I hurried.

And so without a second thought, I hurried.

I managed to return in just under thirty minutes.

Glad that luck was with me, I slipped in through the still-open kitchen window. Everything was just as it was when I left. I suppose I could have left my package by the printer and that would have been the end of my good deed. But for some reason, I decided to venture down the hall. Before I knew what I was doing, I was sneaking into the dark room that I assumed to be Melinda's.

I was surprised by the fact that the bed was right next to the door. Had she still been reading, she surely would have noticed me walking down the corridor. But her back was to me and most of her body was under the covers. I could do this while escaping notice. After all, I'm a ninja.

I spotted her desk across the room, by the window. On it was her laptop. I had no doubt that she'd notice my little gift if I placed it there, so I moved to do just that. Setting it down besides her laptop, I looked at the pictures she had on her desk. Images of her campus were everywhere, though I did notice that there were none of actual people. Maybe she just didn't get along well with most people?

"You are so dead!"

I was surprised by the angry whisper, but not as much as I was by the pillow that suddenly smacked me in the back of the head. "Jeez, how many times do I have to tell you to keep out of my room? Especially to eyeball my computer? I'm not even done paying for the-" She suddenly stopped. Picking up the pillow that she had thrown at me, I prayed that she wasn't a screamer.

"Uh… hi," I said, waving at the girl who was now staring at me with wide eyes. "It's a nice computer and all, but I didn't come here to… uh… scratch that. I didn't come here at all. I'm not here. You're insane. No, wait… you're not insane. Just dreaming. Yeah, dreaming. Oh man, why do I sound like Mikey?"

As I babbled, her hand clumsily reached out for the lamp at her bedside. Squinting in the sudden light, I realized that my options were limited. I could either hope that I convinced her that this was a dream, hope that I could rush past her and out the door, hope to turn and open the window and leave through there before she could call out to someone, or… or… talk to her. That last one was never really an option before. But somehow… it didn't feel right to leave without talking to her.

"I, uh… I'm Donatello," I started, seeing that she was still gaping at me. I kept my words low, not wanting to wake up her family and also not wanting to startle her into having a negative reaction. As it was, I was already afraid she might've gone into shock. "I know this doesn't look good, what with some strange guy creeping around your room late at night and everything…."

I stopped, realizing what I had just said. "Scratch that," I amended in an even quieter tone as I looked down. "Not some strange guy. Some strange… thing. You're probably wondering if you're having a nightmare right now, since there's no way science can explain a creature like me talking to you. Heh… maybe there are some things that science was never meant to explain."

Realizing that I was going off on a tangent, I gazed back up at her. "But hey, who needs explanations? You can chalk this up to me being your fairy godturtle, if that'll make things easier to swallow. The point is… the point is… um… I got something for you."

I put my hand on the things I left on her desk. "You can look at it when you wake up. Or, um, after I leave." I was surprised when she suddenly got out of bed and started walking towards me. Backing up against the wall, I murmured, "Or you can look at it now, if you want. Whatever floats your boat, you know."

She was still eyeing me warily, but something about her face made me feel as though she had awoken from a light doze, and so she was pretty certain that this was a dream. It felt a little odd being scrutinized, but I'm used to it. I wasn't used to having humans willingly break into my personal space, and so I was a little surprised that she walked right up to me, staring into my face as though she were analyzing data. My shell was already pressed into the wall, so there was nowhere I could go.

"Weird," she finally said, stepping away to give me some breathing room. "You're a lot more realistic than some of the other things I've thought up. Maybe my imagination's finally beaten my sanity into a bloody pulp." I wasn't expecting to laugh, and it looked as though she hadn't expected me to, either. She took a step away from me, and I wondered if I should take this opening to run or if her suspension of disbelief will hold out a little longer.

After a while, she seemed to build up the nerve to look away from me and glanced down at what I had motioned towards. Furrowing her brow, she picked up one of the pieces of paper and looked at it. "This," she began quietly, reading over it. "This is my résumé."

"Fifty copies with the corrections you made in pen," I almost squeaked. "That should be enough, right?"

Looking more confused than anything, she looked back down at the desk and picked up the two CD cases I had left there. "Windows XP and 2000," I informed her. "I figured that you couldn't use your printer because your computer's too new for it, so that means it probably has Windows Vista, and your printer's not compatible with it. Since Vista's kind of annoying anyway, maybe you could try installing one of the older versions of Windows. It'll help your computer and it should also help out until you can get a new printer."

It looked like her breath might have gotten caught in her throat. She was finally waking up a little. She could feel the plastic of the CD cases. She could hear my voice. She could see the scars on my skin. Bit by bit, she seemed less sure of the idea of this being just a figment of her imagination.

Looking up at me, she solemnly asked me, "Are you real?"

I debated on how to answer this before looking her straight in the eye and replying, "Yes."

"Why are you doing this?"

The "why" questions always catch me off-guard, as they do most of us. I can readily answer the "who," the "what," the "where," the "when," and the "how." When it comes to the "why," it often leads me down the road of moral judgment, which often leads into the realm of emotions. And when it comes to things that science was never meant to explain, emotions are definitely at the top of that list.

This time, though, I had an answer to the "why" question—mostly because the answer was so simple that I would have been appalled if I hadn't known it. Tilting my head as I looked her over, I softly told her, "Because you looked so sad."

She started. I couldn't tell if it was because she was a little freaked out about having been spied on or if she just didn't like the thought of someone referring to her as "sad." If the latter was the case, then I realized that she and I may have even more in common than I initially thought.

"You have potential, Melinda," I said gently. "Looking over your résumé, anyone can see that. If you need your current job so badly, then go ahead and take it and do the best you can with it. But don't ever forget that you have the potential to be so much more. You're intelligent. Now you just need to be brave. Brave enough to deal with the pitfalls you have to face because the doors aren't open for you. After you become brave, be strong. Strong enough to break open the doors that you know should be opened. And once you're strong… be happy. Because once you're intelligent, brave, and strong… what else can you be but happy?"

Her eyes wavered with tears and I looked down, thinking about my brothers. Often, I've been under the impression that the four of us embody parts of what should be one complete person. Now, after what I've said to Melinda, I know it to be true. I gain courage, strength, and happiness from Leo, Raph, and Mikey. Do they gain intelligence from me? Maybe… either way, the four of us are connected. No matter how frustrating, lonely, or desolate it might get, we need one another. Otherwise, we can start feeling… empty. Surely, humans must feel the same way.

"You…." I looked up at the sound of her voice. She took another step back, as though that would help her keep back the tears. She already had a good deal of strength if she wanted to keep from crying that badly. Either that, or she was just stubborn. "What are you? Are you like… my guardian angel or something?"

I looked at her for a moment before a small smile tugged at the edges of my mouth. "An angel? Me?" I let out a single breathy laugh as I shrugged. "I don't really know what I am half the time. All I know is that I'm more than just an empty shell. And I thought that you should know that you are too, regardless of how you might feel sometimes."

Seeing a tear slide down her cheek, I decided that now would be a good time to step away. "Take care, Melinda," I told her, stepping out from around her and slowly heading towards the door. "Good luck with the job search."

I was almost out the door when I heard her voice. "Mel." I stopped and turned to look at her. She hadn't moved from that spot, though she turned to keep an eye on me. "Most people just… they call me Mel."

I hadn't expected an introduction, but it'd be a bit rude to not complete it now that we were halfway there. "Hi Mel. I'm Donatello. You can call me Don… or Donnie. If we ever see each other again, that is."

"Will we?" Mel asked quickly. "See each other, I mean? Because… I mean… I don't quite get what… and you… you helped me out and… and I don't know…."

"I'm a ninja," I answered simply. "You probably won't see me unless I want you to." I smiled at her. She was blushing a little, as though she were unused to babbling and felt uncomfortable about it. I could relate. "Which means you'll probably be seeing a bit of me."

By the time she looked up, I was already out the door. I heard her call after me, but it didn't take long at all for me to slip out the kitchen window. I thought I could hear her mother calling her, and I could imagine what Mel's excuse would be. "Just a dream, Mom."

I laughed as I made it to the neighboring rooftop, feeling just a little more fulfilled.