Chapter 2: A Chance Worth Taking

Donatello chuckled to himself as he watched the clownfish playing in the glass tank in front of him. It was impossible not to; they were so lively and colorful. As he watched them dart around, he was vaguely aware that everyone else in the room was suddenly making a hasty exit. Someone must have noticed him. He decided to ignore what was happening and moved on to look at the sea urchins. Pretty soon he had the place to himself, though a minute later he felt someone step into the room softly, soundlessly. He expected them to head back out in a hurry, but...

"Hi," he heard someone say in a quiet voice.

Donatello turned around in surprise. "Hi," he said in return.

He looked at the speaker for a moment—and pulled himself straighter. She was one of the prettiest girls he'd ever seen. The denim jeans and jacket she wore didn't hide her shapely figure, and she had an amazing mane of red curls. They were pulled back into a ponytail twisted and knotted at the base, but even then they hung past her waist. She smiled as she adjusted the bag slung over her shoulder, but he could tell she was nervous. Shy.

"I'm off the clock, but I'll be happy to give you a tour, if you like."

The offer took him by surprise. "Oh—no, I've pretty much seen everything."

"Oh."

Her eyes lowered beneath her thick lashes. She looked disappointed—but a second later she brightened. "Have you met Mac yet?"

"No. Who's Mac?"

She beckoned with a smile. "Come on, I'll introduce you."

Curious, he followed her down a series of hallways separate from the main exhibits. During the trip they got a few confused stares from customers and employees alike, but his guide didn't seem to notice. When they reached the end of another hallway, she pushed open a set of doors and waved him inside. He entered a large, wide room with a giant tank of water set in the floor, with cement walkways around it and ladders leading into it, like a swimming pool. "Wait here," his guide instructed, before walking over and kneeling down at the edge of the training tank. "Mac," she called, her voice sweet.

The surface of the water rippled and bubbled, and a second later a small orca surfaced. It huffed water out of its blowhole, then swam over to the edge and chittered excitedly. The girl laughed and stroked his nose. Donatello felt himself smile as he knelt beside her. "He's pretty small," he noted. "Is he still a baby?"

Mac made a grunting sound, and the girl laughed again. "Pretty much. He's being kept here until they move him to the main display tank," she explained. "It's hard enough to adapt to a new environment without having people stare at him all day."

"A good idea," commented Donatello. He reached to pat the orca's smooth black nose; the ocean-savvy mammal nuzzled his palm.

The girl sat back on her heels and looked at him. "I'm Elizabeth," she said, offering her hand.

"Donatello."

His hand was damp from petting Mac, but she didn't seem to mind. The orca suddenly chittered and dove beneath the surface. "Are you still here?" an irritated voice behind them asked.

Elizabeth stood in a hurry. "I was just leaving," she said briskly. She glanced at the water, but Mac didn't resurface. Donatello looked at the man who had just spoken; he was tall, black-haired and swarthy, and he was glaring daggers at Elizabeth. He didn't seem to notice that her companion was a five-foot tall turtle.

Elizabeth frowned, then adjusted her bag and left the room. As he followed Donatello cast a glance over his shoulder at the angry-looking man still behind them, though he didn't make a move to pursue. "Where are you headed?" Elizabeth asked as the reptile fell in step beside her.

"Dinner," he responded.

"Me too," the young redhead said eagerly. "Let's go together. I'll pay."

Donatello slowed his pace a notch. He couldn't help but wonder what her motives were right now; when people weren't avoiding him and his brothers, they were usually hounding them like crazed fans. But Elizabeth was acting like any normal, friendly girl who enjoyed keeping the company of others. She didn't behave like there was anything odd or different in keeping his company.

Not only that, it wasn't every day a pretty girl came up and asked him out—so to speak.

"That's okay," he said, quickening his pace again. "I can cover it."

"I insist."

"No, I insist."

Elizabeth arched a russet eyebrow. "Split the bill?"

The reptilian scientist chuckled. "Deal."

It was after sunset when a sharp ringing in the distance suddenly broke into Leonardo's deep meditation—the distinct ringing of an alarm. He quickly stood and scaled down from the roof to the street, where he dashed to find the source of the sound. It faded as he neared what looked like a simple curio shop—a curio shop that specialized in Japanese antiques.

"What happened?" he asked as he stepped through the open front door.

The shop was empty except for the owner, who was clearly stricken. He was darting for a phone and running a hand through his thinning hair in distress, but he stopped and stared in surprise. "Oh, you're one of..."

His gaze turned imploring. "You're Japanese, aren't you? Surely you understand how horrendous this crime is."

"What was stolen?" asked Leonardo.

The aging man turned and pointed to a broken display case at the back of the shop. "A set of old scrolls—and they weren't for sale. They've been in my family for generations."

Old scrolls? thought the young ninja. That never boded well. "What was written in them?"

"Nothing of real importance—except to me. They contained stories written by a famous poet, who happened to be one of my ancestors."

As simple as that? Leonardo doubted it, but he could hope. "I'll do what I can to recover them," he promised before he hurried off to search for any clues.

"Let's see," Donatello mused as he scanned the menu. "I think I'll have pepperoni, onions, and, uh...clams."

The waitress taking his order looked at him oddly, but she jotted each of the requested pizza toppings down. Across the table, Elizabeth pursed her lips in thought. "I usually don't order anything other than mushrooms, but...what the heck, I'll have clams, too."

The waitress wrote that down wordlessly, followed by their drink orders, then walked away shaking her head. Elizabeth grinned and rested her chin on her folded hands. "I never eat seafood if I can help it," she commented.

"I can see why it might make you feel a little weird," said Donatello, thinking about how much time she must spend around sea creatures every day. "Why order clams, then? It's a pretty bold choice, by the way," he added with a grin.

Elizabeth's own grin faded. "Clams can't talk," she stated solemnly.

Donatello looked at her blankly for a moment—then started to chuckle. This girl was something else.

The restaurant they had chosen was just down the street from the aquarium, smallish and decorated mostly in dark shades: burgundy carpet with a dark tan undertone, wine-colored vinyl covers on the seats, polished black chair backs, dark brown walls. Soft lighting with frosted white shades hung over the booths and tables. The place had a cozy feel and was pretty quiet even though it was dinnertime—that is until a loud and very familiar voice suddenly yelled out, "Hey, dude!"

Donatello looked up and saw Michelangelo hurrying over to their booth, hand raised in greeting. He paused while the waitress came back to deliver their drinks, then stood next to the table. "What are you doing here?" asked Donatello.

The orange-clad turtle gave him a funny look. "Duh—it's scarf time, dude."

His mouth was open to say more...but nothing came out. His gaze had fallen on Elizabeth, who was quietly sipping her drink. "Um..."

Donatello leaned his head on his palm and watched, mildly amused, as his hyper brother visibly fumbled for something to say. "Wow," was the first word he managed, after staring for nearly a minute.

Elizabeth flushed and ducked her head. Donatello breathed a sigh; he'd been looking forward to a dinner filled with intelligent conversation for a change. There wasn't much hope for that now.

"This is Elizabeth, from the aquarium I was visiting today," he offered, while Elizabeth silently stirred the ice in her drink. "She's—"

"Wow," Michelangelo said again. "You're really—I mean, that's beautiful. Your name, I mean. Um..."

He flushed and looked away. Donatello couldn't remember the last time his chatty brother had gotten so tongue-tied. Elizabeth suddenly cleared her throat and looked up. "Would you like to join us?" she offered politely.

The invitation was eagerly accepted, and Donatello had to scoot over as his brother shoved his way into the booth. The waitress came back with their pizzas and looked less than thrilled to have to jot down another one—marshmallow and pickles—and Michelangelo peppered Elizabeth with questions while he waited. How long had she worked at an aquarium? What did she do there? Did she live near here? What did she do for fun?

Elizabeth answered each question in turn, her eyes downcast shyly. "I've been a trainer for two years now. It's my job to work with cetaceans, like dolphins, porpoises, and killer whales. I don't live very close to the aquarium, and...I can't say I have a whole lot of fun, usually."

"Well, that's a bummer," said Michelangelo sympathetically.

Elizabeth shrugged and ate her meal quietly. Donatello suspected that she had asked him to dinner so he could learn more about him; with the conversation turned the other way, she looked a little uncomfortable. And Michelangelo's less than subtle stares weren't helping.

"What's your favorite song?" the eager turtle suddenly asked.

Elizabeth blinked, then turned her head to gaze out the window. Her expression had turned dreamy. "Humpback whale song," she replied softly. "I never get tired of listening to it. It's so beautiful, it's haunting."

Michelangelo didn't look like he knew how to respond to that. Donatello hastily took advantage of his momentary silence. "Have you ever seen one up close?" he asked.

Elizabeth gave a laugh and shook her head. "No—we're much too small for that. I'd love to, though. Someday."

As the two of them continued to chat about aquatic life, Michelangelo started to fidget in boredom, but he didn't get up to leave, even though he, as always, had scarfed down his pizza in record time. He waited impatiently until dinner was over and Elizabeth had paid for her portion of the bill before jumping to his feet. "I'll walk you home," he offered with a smile.

Elizabeth looked surprised, and she lowered her gaze as she slipped her bag over her shoulder. "That's all right. I don't mind walking alone."

Michelangelo's demeanor drooped like a wilted flower. Elizabeth bit her lip. "But I don't really mind company, either."

Recovering in a hurry, the hyper turtle ushered her to the door. "See you, dude!"

As he paid for his own part of the check, Donatello noted that his younger brother looked awfully happy, but he decided not to read too much into it. Michelangelo had had crushes before, to no real end. And he doubted that Elizabeth would continue humoring him once they parted ways at her doorstep.

"So, what's it like to swim with fish all day?"

Michelangelo didn't mean to keep pestering, but he couldn't help it. There was just something about Elizabeth that made him want to know everything there was to know about her.

The petite girl didn't answer right away. The street they walked was dark and quiet, with only the occasional car zipping by and a small bird chirping noisily in a tree above them. It was awfully late for it to be up, he noted. Elizabeth smiled and lifted her hand as if in greeting. The bird chirruped and flew away.

"I swim with mammals, mostly," she corrected. "And I love it. Being underwater, not hearing anything except for the bubbles and the animal I'm swimming with...it's like slipping off into another world."

It sounded awfully nice when she put it that way, and he could easily imagine the two of them swimming deep in the blue of the ocean together, not a care in the world...

He cleared his throat. "Which is your favorite? Besides humpbacks, that is," he added with a grin.

Elizabeth slipped her hands into the pockets of her jacket and thought about it for a moment. "Sea otters," she decided.

"Sea otters?" he echoed in surprise. "How come?"

She gave a shrug. "We had one a few months ago. He was the sweetest thing...I really miss him."

She breathed a sigh, suddenly looking so sad Michelangelo was sorry he'd brought it up. "What happened to him?" he asked hesitantly.

"He was shipped off to a zoo in San Diego."

"Oh."

They both grew quiet for a moment. And then, because he just couldn't help himself, Michelangelo cheekily asked, "What about turtles?"

Elizabeth smirked. "I haven't had much opportunity to swim with turtles."

He grinned playfully. "Well, we'll just have to fix that."

Elizabeth stopped walking. Michelangelo did, too, his cheeky grin fading in a hurry. "Sorry, I hope that wasn't rude..."

Elizabeth giggled at him. "No, silly. We're here."

She pointed at the apartment building they were standing next to. Michelangelo flushed. "Oh."

"Do you want to come up for a minute?"

"You don't mind?"

She shook her head. "I've got an extra soda can or two in the fridge. Come on."

He followed her up the front steps, down a carpeted hallway and up a small elevator. She unlocked a door marked 107 and ushered him inside. "I'm home," she called as she kicked off her sneakers.

The apartment was small and mostly a one-room deal, with a kitchen area to his left and a living room to his right, separated by carpet and linoleum. There were a couple of closed doors he assumed led into the bathroom and bedroom, but that was about it.

Movement suddenly caught his attention; he turned his head to see something with mink-and-white fur walking along the back of a sofa. His eyes went round. "That's the second biggest rat I've ever seen."

His choice of words made Elizabeth laugh. "I'd love to meet the first."

"Really? I'll have to introduce you."

She looked at him like she was wondering whether he was kidding or not as she went over to the fridge. As she pulled out two cans of soda, the meaty rodent hopped down with a thump that rattled a nearby shelf. He padded into the kitchen, claws clicking on the linoleum; Elizabeth bent and fed him an apple wedge.

"What can I say," she sighed as she scratched behind his pink ears. "I'm a sucker for anything with fur and four legs."

"But you're not, like, totally opposed to no fur and two legs, right?" Michelangelo asked shyly.

As she straightened up again, Elizabeth looked at him over the top of her soda can. Her smile was soft and shy. "No. Not when they belong to someone as sweet as you."