A/N: Well I managed to get the second chapter out! I've gone over it again and again so I'm not sure if I'm missing any spelling errors. If I am please let me know! I'm rather nervous about this chapter and I would appreciate any reviews to let me know how I'm doing.

Thank you so very much to kaaayyytteee for my very first review!

002 – And She Became the Girl from Yesterday

"Eli! Eli, don't do this! Elijah! ELIJAH!"

The truck door slammed and Lana watched with teary eyes as the shiny new pick-up peeled out and back into the street. Sirens wailed in the distance, the never ending song of the city, but all Lana could hear was her ragged breathing and the low chuckling of the man left to deal with her. He was frighteningly large, at least two heads taller than her with arms that looked like they could crush a truck. The Mohawk upon his head was dark, black maybe or deep blue, but Lana didn't care to find out. Her eyes were locked to the dragon tattoo upon his rippling bicep.

"You... You could just - just let me go," she whimpered, her hands clinging tightly to her bare arms.

Mohawk smirked, "I could but where'd be the fun in that?"

His voice sent chills down her spine and like a cornered rat, she began to quickly back away, sealing her fate the farther she stumbled into the alley. Mohawk followed with a sneer, a taunting grin as he stalked his prey. The street lights could no longer reach them but the moon shone down bright enough that Lana could still see every movement of his body.

"Just – Just fuck off!" Lana managed to roar and her back pressed tight against a brick wall. "Just leave me alone!"

Mohawk grinned. If she was trying to be intimidating, that ship had long since sailed. Her voice quivered, shook and the wet, sloppy tears running down her chin did nothing but prove how scared she really was. He loved it when they cried. He especially loved it when they screamed but unfortunately he could have none of that tonight.

"I can't do that, girly," he said and Lana realized how terrifying his voice actually was. He spoke calmly, gently just like her father did. God, she would've rather him screamed at her, swore and curse. "Now, now, I ain't gonna hurt you too bad."

"W-Why...?"

"Cause you know things," said Mohawk, halting a foot away from the quaking girl. "Can't have you goin' to the cops, you see. We already have to worry about that fucker, Vincent, but we'll take care of that soon enough -"

"Know things?" Lana began to shake her head furiously, spilling her long brunette locks over her face. "I don't know anything. Eli doesn't talk to me -"

Mohawk stepped closer. God, he loved the fear on her face, the way she tried to push into the building behind her, like it would somehow swallow her up and save her, "Course not. Eli's been a good recruit. He knows what he's doin', knows where his loyalties lay but Vincent, well, that fucker's a loose cannon. We knows who he's told. We might just have to take care of your whole house, you see, but don't worry, girly, I'll go easy on you."

Wet tears continued to pour down her face, so thick she could barely see anymore. She knew her attacker was right in front of her, she could feel his warm breath beating down upon her face. It stunk like booze and cigarette smoke and Lana tried harder to back away but the brick wall kept halting her progress. She needed to get away. She needed to scream. Maybe someone would hear her or at least call the cops. She needed to –

"You know, usually I like it when they fight but it's nice of you to give me a night off," Mohawk's large hand reached for her neck, moved in like a vice but Lana, in her last bit of desperation, flung her weak fist forward.

She could feel her skin hitting his, the bone in her hand ploughing straight into his jaw. Mohawk stumbled backward, clutching his face. All Lana hoped was he was shocked enough she could run for it but the second she moved past him, a hand clamped down on her shoulder and the girl found herself being flung backwards.

She hit the wall, air rushing from her lungs.

"You dumb bitch," He hissed. "You shouldn't have done that."

Lana screamed. She wailed at the top of her lungs like a banshee, hoping, praying someone heard her until Mohawk reached forward. His fist collided with the side of her face, powerful enough that her entire body was tossed and her head smashed into the wall. Just like a rag doll, she crumpled to the ground. Not a sound was made, not even a whimper and Mohawk released a sigh. He really needed to work on his self control. He hated having to work with an unconscious victim. It took all the fun out of it. Maybe he'd just wait until she came to or maybe he could –

"Now haven't we told ya fuck faces before that preyin' on little girls is gonna get ya killed?"

"You've got to be shittin' me," Mohawk hissed. He hated being disturbed when he was working and he was going to fucking kill whoever did it. The Purple Dragon turned but wasn't surprised to see four shadowy masses standing before him. A grin crossed his face, "Don't you freaks have anythin' better to do? I'm workin' here."

"Working?" said the turtle with the blue mask. Now what was his name? thought Mohawk. Hun rambled about them enough he should know. "I didn't know preying on helpless woman was in your job description."

The Purple Dragon chuckled, "Is when the dumb bitch is gettin' to nosy, but I guess I won't be finishin' this job 'til I deal with you freaks, will I?"

"Look, Donnie, he catches on quick," laughed one of the others. He was spinning a pair of nunchaku in each hand and if Mohawk had any sanity in him he'd probably be worried. "You think he knows he's gonna get his ass whooped?"

"I doubt it," sighed the one holding a large bag over his shell. "They all seem to think they have a chance lately."

"Now, now," said Mohawk. "That ain't polite."

"Neither's knockin' some chick's head in," snarled the mutant twirling two dangerous looking Sais. Mohawk couldn't care less. He had a gun. There was no way these fuckers could dodge bullets no matter how many stories he heard about them. Though when he moved to draw his weapon, a measly pistol shoved in the back of his pants, one of their ugly green mugs appeared in front of his face.

"We ain't gonna have none of that," snarled Raphael and before Mohawk could blink, a three fingered fist was jabbed straight into his nose. They could hear the bone crack, blood spouting from the Purple Dragon's nostrils as he slammed into the brick wall behind him. Raphael didn't give him the chance to get back to his feet; he quickly kicked the man in the face, forcing him to the ground in a stunned daze. "You know, I think these scumbags are gettin' sloppier."

Michelangelo wandered to the unconscious Mohawk's side, nudging his bloody and battered face with one of his nunchaku, "I'd say! You knocked him out in like five seconds flat, Raph."

Leonardo nodded his agreement. Lately, it seemed all the Purple Dragons they were forced to take care of were nothing but fresh recruits who couldn't even find the trigger of their own guns. It worried him. If Hun was planning something he had been doing it rather discretely, keeping his first-rate men busy elsewhere.

"Mikey, you and Raph throw him in the dumpster," said their leader. "He'll come too sooner or later. Don, how's the girl?"

"Out cold, Leo," replied Donatello. He had dropped down beside Lana, carefully pulling her up into a sitting position. The left side of her face was swelling and he was sure she'd have trouble seeing through that eye for a few days. It was the right side of her head that worried him. Though Donatello knew the head bled much worse than most areas, he didn't like the cuts the brick had made. "He really hit her hard. The right side of her head is cut up pretty bad. She'll need to go to the hospital. I won't be surprised if she doesn't remember a thing when she wakes up."

"Call an ambulance. We'll wait until they get here -"

Although just as Raphael and Michelangelo managed to toss the heavy Purple Dragon into the dumpster, a quiet whimper fell from the girl's lips. Donatello quickly removed his hands from her scalp, cautiously watching as she tried forcing her one good eye open.

Everything was spinning, blurring and Lana quickly closed the only eye that would open to try and stop the nausea forming in her chest. Why did her head hurt so much? Why was only one eye working? She couldn't – Her head felt like it was expanding, pulsating and trying to break its way through her skull.

"W-What?" asked Lana as a quivering hand tried to grasp at the pain in her head. It was coming from the right; she was sure of it but as she moved to grab at her hair a cool hand carefully stopped her own.

"Careful," said Donatello's gentle voice. He watched as she tried to look up at him but by the rapid blinking he was positive she couldn't focus her sights, "You're cut up pretty badly."

"My head?" asked Lana. "What – What happened to my head?"

"You don't remember?" came Raphael's gruff voice and she quickly tried to see where the new speaker was standing but all she saw was a blurred shadow.

"No, I – Oh god, my head hurts."

Donatello frowned. "Can you tell me your name, Miss?"

"My name?" Lana looked back at him. Her eyes squinted, her eyebrows furrowed and the confused look worried Donatello, at least, for a moment, "It's... My name's... It's... Lana."

"Lana," repeated the turtle. "Lana, can you tell me what happened to you? Do you remember?"

"Remember? I was... Elijah... He left," She shook her head, her eye finally focusing and the nausea building in her throat. "Oh god, my head hurts. My head – What happened to my head?"

"She definitely has a concussion," said Donatello. "Mikey, call an ambulance. She needs stitches and -"

"You're... You're t-turtles," the girl said suddenly and all four mutant men gazed at her. The spinning in her head wasn't stopping and she wasn't certain how many there were anymore but she was seeing turtles, large green humanoid turtles. Her ears started ringing, a constant dull cry that she couldn't shake and all of a sudden her body began to get to hot. "You're -" Lana heaved all over Donatello, crying as her dinner spilled across the turtle's bare feet.

Raphael released a loud scoff, "Well that's new. Usually they just scream."

"Oh god, I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't – My head, my head hurts."

Leonardo sighed, "It's due to her concussion, Raph."

"I'm sorry – I didn't. Oh god, I'm sorry -"

Despite the warm chunks upon his feet, Donatello managed a smile, a gentle hand pushing the dirtied and wet strains of her hair behind her shoulder, "Lana, it's alright. We're going to get you an ambulance. You need to go to the hospital."

"Hospital? No, no," She began to whine. "Just – Just call Tyler. He'll... He'll take care of me. He can – I'm... I'm sorry I threw up on you. I was attacked, r-right? Did you save me?"

"Yes," said Leonardo. "You were attacked by a member of the Purple Dragons."

"Purple – Oh god, you saved me and I – I threw up on you!"

Michelangelo tried hard to hide his laughter but all it resulted in was a muffled snicker that gained him a large smack in the back of his head.

"It's alright, Lana," Donatello repeated.

"I'll... I can cook," she abruptly said. "I don't have any – any money to pay you for h-helping me but I can cook. I can – can make you dinner to thank you all."

Leonardo turned to Donatello and their medic gave him a gentle nod. From what he could tell, Lana wouldn't remember a thing in the next hour, let alone tomorrow morning. Humouring her was the least he could do.

"Of course, Lana, that sounds nice," said their leader, frowning when she began to gag again. Donatello managed to move out of the way, helping her lean forward and pulling her long hair into his hand. She spilled the remainder of her stomach out onto the pavement until nothing but dry heaves followed and she began to cry.

"My head hurts," she muttered. "I don't – don't -"

"Lana, we're going to call an ambulance -"

"Oh, no, no." They watched her sloppily slip her hand down the neck of the loose t-shirt hanging off of her shoulders. A sleek black cell phone was pulled out and clumsily placed in Donatello's open hand, "Just Tyler – He'll help."

"Alright," replied the turtle and he quickly went through her rather expensive phone, pleased to see she only knew one Tyler. "Mikey, keep her talking."

"Sure thing!" The orange masked turtle hurried to her side, careful to avoid the rank smelling puke at her feet and plopped down on her right. Her left eye was mashed in, red and clenched shut but the right was wide open, large and it almost looked like she was permanently startled as she peered at him. "Name's Mikey," he told her.

"Mikey," She repeated. "I'm – I'm Lana."

He grinned, "I know. You told us already."

"I – I did?"

"You did," he laughed, watching as her face screwed up into a rather confused look. "So you can cook?"

"Cook?" There was a long pause as she just stared at him, gazing with her only working eye. "You're a... You're a turtle, Mikey."

Michelangelo released another loud laugh, "Spot on, Dudette! You're not going to hurl on me now, are you?"

She managed to smile but it looked pained, looked confused, "I... puked. Oh god, no, I'm s-sorry -"

"Hey, hey, it's alright. So you like to cook?" He tried again.

This time she nodded, "I... I can cook. I went to school for it. I... My head hurts, Mikey."

"I know, Lana, but Donnie's gonna get your friend to come get you. You didn't want an ambulance, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, I don't... I don't like them," She buried her face in her hands. Her ears were ringing and she couldn't see straight anymore. Suddenly there were two Michelangelo's and the grin they both had once held disappeared. Her head... Her head... Why did her head hurt so much?

Elijah... He left her with the Purple Dragon but where was he? When did her attacker leave?

"Lana," came the gentle voice she had awoken to. "Tyler is on his way. By the sounds of it he'll be here any minute."

"We don't... We don't live far," she said. Donatello watched her peer up at him, her eye rapidly blinking like she was trying hard to focus again. "Are you going – going to come with me?"

Leonardo spoke, "No, we can't come with you but we'll make sure you get to your friend safely."

"Oh, al-alright."

Lana suddenly began to move, struggling to get to her feet. She felt sick and that smell – that smell! As Lana started dry heaving again Michelangelo aided her, his hands slipping underneath her armpits and making sure the quivering girl wouldn't fall into the mess at her feet.

"She gonna remember any of this?" asked Raphael, watching as his brother helped the girl step over her own puke.

"Highly doubtful," replied Donatello. "If she does, she'll most likely think she just imagined us all in her head. Mikey, be careful, her balance is probably off."

"Right! Whoops, just hold on to my arm, Lana. I gotcha."

Raphael continued, "And what are we gonna do about the Purple Dragon? Can't just leave 'im to go find 'er again, can we?"

Leonardo frowned, "I'm not sure. He said she was being nosy but I can almost guarantee she won't be going anywhere near the Purple Dragons anymore. We can -"

"Hey! Lana's friend's here!" yelled Michelangelo. Sure enough they could hear the squeal of an old car as it whipped around in the middle of the street, halting just before the alleyway, "Lana, can you sit right here? Your friend's here."

"T-Tyler?" She asked "Where – Where are you going?"

"We can't be seen," answered Michelangelo. "But we'll make sure you're safe, okay Lana?"

"O-Okay," replied the girl. She was helped to lean against the building wall, whimpering as her head spun and those cool arms left her suddenly very warm body. Leonardo heard the car door slam.

"Mikey! Time to go!"

"See yeah, Lana! We'll see you Tuesday."

She tried to wave but her name was called and she dopily looked out of the alley. A tall girl rushed to her side, dark hair held high in a ponytail and she dropped to her knees beside the beaten Lana Cruise. Megan began to furiously push Lana's thick hair out of her face, gasping at the blood pouring down her cheek and trying hard to stop the bleeding with her sleeve.

"Lana, oh my god, Lana, look at me. You're okay now. C'mon, can you stand? We're going to bring you to the hospital."

"Hospital?" asked Lana. "Oh, I, can I – Megan?"

"C'mon, Lana, I got you. Tyler! TYLER! You have to help me get her in the car!"

"Coming!"

Upon the roof of the old bookstore Lana had been slumped against, the four turtles watched as a large boy hurried from the old Sunfire. Her friends, Megan and Tyler, began to help her to her feet and she was led towards the passenger door. Donatello was surprised to see her face looking back into the alley like she was waiting to see them one more time. Moments later she began to heave again, crying loudly when Tyler gathered her into his arms.

"Mikey," Leonardo muttered, watching as the large boy carefully placed Lana into the passenger seat. Seconds later, the car peeled away at a blinding speed, "Why did you tell her we would see her on Tuesday?"

"She wants to make us dinner, to repay us, you know? And she said Tuesday is when she has the house to herself."

"We're not goin' to dinner," snarled Raphael, his thick arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Michelangelo looked surprised, his blue eyes wide and mouth open, "What? How come?"

"Because," began Donatello. "She'll forget about us by tomorrow morning and if she doesn't, she'll think this was just all her imagination."

"It's for the best, Mike," Leonardo said. "I'm not opposed to checking on her to make sure the Purple Dragons are leaving her alone but we can't be seen." Besides, he thought, there was no telling who this girl actually was. For all Leonardo knew, she could be part of some ploy, some ambush that would leave them cornered and if she wasn't, he didn't want to drag the poor girl into their world. It would be best to let her forget and move on like none of this had ever happened.

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think :)