Author's Notes: Reviews keep me motivated, so, thanks, guys! This chapter is all about Mel. Yes, she's a mess...

Disclaimer: TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Nia Anders and Melody Gray belong to me. I'm in no way making any money. Thanks.


Chapter 02 - Good Morning

Melody Gray kept calm, despite the soft jab of awkwardness that prodded her chest whenever Splinter glanced across the dining table set with three cups of tea. Neither of them had spoken a word since Donatello excused himself for the bathroom, and the cyborg found her vision wandering around the Lair's brick structure—to keep from meeting the mutant rat's penetrative eyes through the silence.

"Gray-san," Splinter said. His tone sounded either worrisome or exasperated; Melody couldn't tell which.

"Yes," she replied automatically. Her gaze fell from a pot rack hung from the kitchen ceiling to the stern-faced master, who resituated an ornate, South American shawl over his sloped shoulders.

"You may speak."

What peculiar words. The blonde's head cocked at them as she racked her brain for their meaning. Did she need permission? Surely not. Everyone possessed the freedom of speech in the USA. So was it a simple reiterating? Why? She knew she could speak.

"I have called on you several times," Splinter continued—notably darker before he sipped his tea—"yet you always hide."

Hide? Her? No. But maybe her face said otherwise because the master's features eased into a haunted expression.

"You may fear what I have to say, Gray-san. However, I believe it is a talk we must have."

Melody remained unblinking, answering, "Is that why you said I could? To make me feel as if the choice were my own?"

"It will always be your choice," the furry mutant countered. "But know—"

"It would please Donatello if I did. Correct?"

"Yes…"

Mel lightly huffed while the rat pursed his mouth. "Rare people have an interest in what I have to say."

"Well, we are among the rarest on Earth, Gray-san."

She kept quiet under that truth, averting her gaze for some reason or another. How could one small mutant unnerve her almost as strongly as Don's loving glances could? It wasn't right. She was the one to unnerve others—not the other way around. In fact, she felt a slight burn of anger in her chest as she raised her chin with pride, meeting Splinter's gray face.

"People often say things they do not mean," she started, even. "Or perhaps they do mean it, yet change their mind soon afterwards. Either way, they have never taken kindly to my nature. Donatello is…an anomaly. Who I am thankful for. However, you may change your opinion like so many others."

"I have not changed it yet, Gray-san," Splinter remarked.

Mel didn't understand how he could regard her so casually, like her cynicism was something to be taken in stride, and stiffened in her seat. "I am not the kind to please."

"We expect nothing of the sort."

"Then what do you expect?"

"Truth."

"I always give truth," the cyborg grumbled.

"So why hide it?" Splinter immediately questioned. With a soft scratch across the concrete, the master leaned his chin atop his paws on his upright cane, peering.

"Because I do not wish to disappoint Donatello."

The frank statement widened the rat's eyes a fraction. "Disappoint?"

"He has such hopes that I can befriend his family. However…friends have never been my forté ."

"Perhaps not willingly."

Mel narrowed her organic eye. "What do you mean?"

"You have allies, Melody Gray—even when you feel otherwise. Your squad members, Tabitha Fall and Sven Nass, were quick to turn to you for aid when the true danger of your situation was revealed. This shows they trust you; trust enough to lay their lives in your hands."

"I only told Donatello of that," remarked Mel under her breath. Speaking of, where was he?

"He speaks of you fondly," Splinter added to regain the blonde's attention from the staircase beside the bathroom.

"Then maybe he should speak less."

"His intent was not to break the confidentiality you two share as couple."

Melody scowled at the closed bathroom door, half tempted to break it down. "No," she said smoothly yet bitterly, "he just means to meddle."

There was a weak sigh from Splinter. "Families meddle, Gray-san. They meddle and mediate, usually with good intents. Like Donatello."

"I don't need Donny to plead my case before you like I'm some kind of scared animal in need of shelter!" The fire burned quick through the cyborg—through her tone, limbs, and eyes. She rose from her seat violently with a bang against the wooden tabletop and her teeth ground at the thought how much information her lover had disclosed.

Rather than react with disgust or surprise, Splinter lifted his chin with the upmost control of a tempered soul. "You are no animal in the clan's eyes, Melody. Perhaps years on the streets have drilled a single outlook into your mind. It tells you everyone sees you as below them, a burden, a 'dog of society'. It also tells you to erect a wall to keep the hurt out. However, you are no dog and your wall is effective against positive emotions as well.

"Donatello loves you. He fought jealously against all accusations and never once gave up faith in you. He would not do this for a vain, selfish, disreputable woman. He only wants us to understand what he sees since the rest of us are cast in the shadow of your wall."

"My wall is what's kept me alive this long," the cyborg countered, unfiltered.

"So you must build a gate for it, to let in the necessary good."

"Or weaken its integrity." She glared at him, though maddening sympathy crossed his dark eyes.

"Gray-san….have you had a family before?"

The question sunk like a bag of sand in the woman's stomach, so her lips pressed shut, despite a blazing want to retort.

"He has not told us much of your past; he says it is your place. So, tell me, have you had a family before?"

Slowly, begrudgingly, Melody sunk into her wooden seat. Pain from a passing memory of a white-haired woman stabbed her chest, yet the light prickle in her eye didn't betray her. She wouldn't let it.

"I had a mother named Gray," she admitted.

"Gray?"

"Yes."

"Was such her last name or first?"

"Her only name." Melody maintained a stoic expression under the quirk of the rat's wild eyebrow, saying calmly, "She had no identity. No one knew where she journeyed from. And Gray is what she called herself."

"She never spoke to you of her past?" Splinter questioned, as if some similarity existed between her and her mother.

"She had no past to tell."

"Everyone has a past."

"Except for when you forget it. Or your mind is broken."

"Broken how?"

It wasn't a thought Melody liked to revisit, but regardless of its sting, she collected her breath and steeled her gaze. "She had dementia as a result of a brain tumor. It spread slowly through her years with me. I never knew how…odd her behavior was when compared to others until my judgment skills sharpened. I was seven when I realized her loss of balance, slurred speech, and twitches were unnatural."

"That is astute for someone so young," remarked Splinter with a tinge of somberness and praise.

Against her will, Melody's vision fell to the cooled tea cup set before her. "No choice; when you grow up on the streets, it can mean the difference between life and death."

"That is an unfortunate reality." The way he spoke convinced Mel that the mutant understood quite well. "I mean no offence when I ask, how did Gray-san bear and raise you if she was so ill?"

"She never bore me. She…adopted me. Through her and a few others in the homeless community, I was raised remarkably healthy. Underfed and a bit weak, of course, but alive."

"What means of adoption could she partake in with no identity?"

Better judgment warded the blonde against glancing up; she didn't listen.

"Gray-san kidnapped you?"

"She saved me," Melody snapped at the wide-eyed master. "And I tried desperately to return the favor. Carlos and Fry, who knew her before I came along, used to call me her 'medicine'. They said I was the one thing on Earth to keep her grounded. By the time I was ten, I could see what they meant. I was her sanity through her sickness. And I tried to save her."

"How?" Quick, curious, Splinter's ears twitched upwards.

"Self-taught medical knowledge."

The statement should've roused enough disbelief for a scoff, yet the mutant sent encouragement with a single look.

"Expectedly, my mother had no insurance or means of consultation with a physician. So, I began learning at the age of ten. I scrounged open sources, tossed medical books, and any library I could steal from. I poured myself over the information, obsessed over it, convinced I could find a treatable means.

"It was a kid's dream, in retrospect. I did not have the right equipment or sanitary grounds, and she—she died of a severe brain aneurysm shortly after my diagnosis of her…"

"I am sorry for your loss."

Melody repressed a huff. The rat didn't know her and he surely didn't know her mother either. How could he feel sorry? The cyborg lightly shook her head then crossed her arms over her ample chest, reclining in her seat so she could glare at Splinter's unreadable expression with her chin tilted up.

"I was twelve. Since then, I have taken care of myself."

"Yet you had the homeless community, right?"

A chilling jolt shot beneath the metal of Mel's body. "The two closest men to raise me alongside my mother were killed by gangsters. One for fun and the other for chump change."

"Gray-san,"—Splinter spoke wanly, which forced Melody's teeth to grind—"has tragedy kept you from seeking a family?"

"I learned from it," replied Mel heatedly. "What's the point of forming attachments if life is so keen on severing them?"

"Attachments are what create life. It gives and takes. We are subject to it and must take solace in knowing bad can bring about good. If we open our hearts to the change."

Melody rose swiftly to slam both her metal palms against the tabletop, causing the tea cups to rattle then tip. "If? You just said we were subject to it, which means life's unbiased. Whether I 'opened' my heart or not wouldn't have made a difference. I would still be looked down on. I would still be ridiculed. And I would still have to watch higher society wear on the people who honestly need help! How would a family have helped that?"

"In the same way you helped your mother."

The blonde reeled at the soft words, her glare faltering when Splinter calmly reached over the table. With startled eyes, she watched his bony paws as he set the cups upright.

"Just as family is work, it is also sanity. It is companionship, trust, faith, love. It is knowing you are not alone, even when you are—because you are a unit. And it lends strength in the most troubling of times."

"Well, those troubling times were constant," Mel added under her breath. Her hands scratched the table's wooden surface before they formed fists, yet she glanced at them only for a moment then met Splinter's eyes.

"It can be a shock to transition from a solitary life to a family one, but know we are always there for one another. No matter what."

"If that's the case, then why did you send Leonardo away?" The words slipped like oil from Melody's thick lips and they were lit by the sudden fire behind Splinter's dark gaze. "Shouldn't you be coddling him? Monitoring his PTSD? What if a startling sound from the plane sets him off and he falls out of the plane's undercarriage in panic?"

"Leonardo and I have spoken about this," Splinter said through his cracking composure. "Donatello has given him a supply of natural stress relievers and during the week before he left, we meditated. In complete silence, yes, but unsaid support is as impactful as any."

"Still doesn't explain why a so-called 'close family' would ship him off!"

"Should you see this as a means of avoiding responsibilities for the aftermath inflicted by the company you chose to follow then you are mistaken, Gray-san."

So, the truth came out. Melody found the master's sharp voice, clenched paws on his cane, and twitching tail unsurprising. A façade of diplomacy could only last so long and she'd known from the start how he was bitter about the situation. Just like Michelangelo, Raphael, and Nia.

"I'm the reason," she noted—a soft, hoarse action. In seconds her throat dried, causing her to pause. "He can't be with you because of me."

"It is for many reasons, Gray-san. He—"

"Stop with the politically correct crap!"

At Mel's fierce scowl and slam of hand, Splinter squared his shoulders.

"Say it," the blonde hissed while leaning down to his eye level. "Say what everyone else is feeling. I shouldn't have a place here. How can I belong after what I've done? I—I don't deserve your family."

"Okay, Melody, the talk is over."

The cyborg felt her lover's grip on her organic bicep before she met his brown gaze. Lividness roused in her muscles—over his abandonment of her—and an unexplained fear propelled her backwards when the downtrodden face of Leonardo replaced Donatello's like a ghost image. She broke their connection with a startled cry, glancing between the Hamato males from several feet away. No words left her, though; her breath grew short under their pensive stares, so she turned towards the Lair entrance.

"Mel, wait!" Don called behind her retreating figure.

At the couch, she almost did. Except her tightened chest over the thought of another flashback kept her moving. Michelangelo neared her side from some place unknown. His trained smile was given little consideration before their shoulders bumped and she activated the Lair's lever system

"Well, good morning to you too," the youngest Hamato chided. Whatever he had to say towards Don next grew garbled since the blonde directed all energy to her legs, willingly them to lead her away from the hurt.