A/N: Yes, Raphael is acting like... Raphael. Good for him that Karen is first and foremost a Mom. It's tough to overcome those instincts, even when the kids involved are green, wearing shells, and trained in martial arts.


Chapter 3 ~Introductions~

"Take it easy, Raph," said Donatello. "They didn't threaten us before you jumped on… Excuse me, ma'am, what's your name?"

Karen stared at him, startled at the sudden courtesy. "Karen. My name is Karen Vincent, and this is my son, Luke."

"Listen," Luke spoke up, staring at Raphael. "You're brother's in bad shape. Michelangelo's hurt too. My mom's a doctor. If you guys would just trust us, we can help you."

"No way, kid," growled Raphael, his hand resting on the handle of an oddly-shaped silver weapon tucked at his side. "Ya already shot Mikey. You stay away from my bros."

"Raph, we don't have a choice," snapped Donatello. "We need help. Leo needs to get warm now."

Karen listened to the exchange, but her eyes never left Leonardo. His breathing was quick and shallow. Donatello knelt beside him, cradling his head in his lap.

She was painfully reminded of another scene, an accident she'd witnessed once as a volunteer EMT. A young man cradled his bleeding wife on the side of the road next to what was left of their car, helpless tears flowing down his face. Whatever the creatures were, it was obvious they cared for one another, and they needed her help. Her doctor's instincts overcame her fear.

"Listen... we can take him into the house," she said. "It'll be warmer in there and I can set up a portable heater. I have first aid supplies. We can treat Michelangelo's arm as well. I guess… I guess we can't just take you guys to the hospital." She managed a shaky laugh.

Raphael glared, but Donatello nodded slowly.

"All right," he said. "Raph, you're going to have to carry Leo."

"Don…"

The purple-banded Turtle reached out, gripping his brother's arm. Raphael met his eyes and a silent communication seemed to pass between them. Raphael glanced at the humans, his eyes burning with fury.

"Are ya alone?" he asked.

"What?"

"Is there anybody else inside?" he elaborated impatiently.

"No," said Karen. I hope I'm not making a huge mistake. "It's just Luke and I." When the Turtle continued to stare suspiciously at her she shook her head in annoyance. "What?"

"Yer wearin' a ring," growled the Turtle. "Where's yer husband?"

Karen twisted the gold band on her finger, startled. "My husband's been gone almost five years. It's just Luke and me now," she told him.

Something flickered in Raphael's eyes. "Ok," he said finally. He scooped Leonardo up in a bridal carry, grunting slightly as he got to his feet.

Karen's eyes went wide. This guy's a power-house, she thought. His brother must weigh close to two-hundred pounds but he just picked him up like a baby. I hope I'm doing the right thing... but I can't ignore someone who needs help, no matter how weird they look.

Donatello nodded sharply and went over to Michelangelo.

"How're you doing, Mikey?" he asked softly.

"I'll be fine, Donny. Take care of Leo," answered the orange-banded terrapin, getting shakily to his feet. He shot another suspicious blue-eyed glare toward the woman and her son.

"I'll show you where the first-aid stuff is," said Luke to Donatello. The purple-banded Turtle nodded and Luke, shooting one more nervous glance over his shoulder at his mother, followed him out of the barn.

Karen turned her attention to the remaining Turtle. "Listen, Michelangelo, is it?"

The aqua-green Turtle glanced at the woman. He got to his feet, taking a step back as she came closer, his hand still clamped over his arm. Blood had trickled down to his elbow, but she noticed it wasn't dripping now.

"Luke's a good kid. He didn't mean to hurt you. Please believe that."

"I… I guess, Dudette," said Michelangelo slowly. "Look, we… we don't let ourselves get seen by humans, you know. Raph… Raph's just worried."

"He's scared," said Karen, nodding. "I would be to, in your place. Where did you guys come from?"

"New York." He glanced at her. "You know, you really can't tell anybody else about us."

She glanced at him. "Or what?"

Michelangelo looked startled. "Well… nothing really, I guess." He shrugged and winced. "Ow! Ow ow ow!"

Karen's eyes widened. She rushed to the Turtle, grabbing his uninjured hand and prying it away from his wounded arm.

"Did you hurt yourself? Let me see."

"Hey! Ow! No, leave it alone, Dudette!" squawked the Turtle, flinching away.

"Michelangelo, I'm a doctor. Now come on. Let's get you inside and get this cleaned up," she said, taking him firmly by the arm. Blue eyes widened, but he allowed her to lead him into the house. Raphael met them at the porch. He stood with his arms crossed over his plastron, watching them approach.

"You ok, Mike?" he asked.

Karen met his glare steadily. "Your brother is fine, Raphael," she snapped before Michelangelo could answer. "You know, it's your fault Luke shot him. He was defending me."

"Well, if da kid could handle dat gun, he wouldn'ta shot my brother," Raph glared.

"If Luke could handle a gun under that kind of duress, you would've been dead," Karen told him. "It's just fortunate his shot was deflected."

"Humph."

Karen ignored the red-banded Turtle, leading Michelangelo firmly into the house. He followed her meekly to the kitchen where she motioned to a chair.

"Sit. I'll get some rags to clean up your arm and we can see how bad it is."

"Where's Donny?"

Raphael trailed into the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe, watching the woman's every move.

"Da kid took 'em inta a bedroom," he growled. "Don's workin' on Leo, settin' 'is arm."

"What about the shock?" Karen eyed the Turtle warily. "He needs to be warmed. Did Luke get the heater for him?"

Raphael nodded. "Donny says he's just exhausted. His pulse an' stuff is ok."

Gently, Karen pried Mike's hand away from his arm. He flinched, but she wiped the blood and gore away from the edges of the wound. "Good grief, you're a mess Michelangelo. At least the bullet isn't in your arm."

"Still hurts like shell," grumbled Mike, glaring at the woman.

"Well, don't jump on someone holding a rifle," she scolded. "First rule of gun safety. What on earth have you been doing?" She traced a finger along a bruise on his upper arm. His skin was icy-cold under her fingers. Michelangelo shuddered and shifted away. "Sorry," she said. "You're freezing. That can't be good for you."

"It's not," said Raphael. "We didn't exactly plan fer traipsin' aroun' in da snow."

Karen glanced at him, but his closed expression stopped her questions. Shaking her head, she efficiently cleaned the blood from around the wound.

"This is pretty superficial," she said. "You're not going to need stitches, just some salve and a bandage."

"What're ya, some kinda nurse or somethin'?" The red-banded Turtle's eyes narrowed behind his mask, his hands resting on the fork-shaped weapons in his belt as he watched her.

"A surgeon, actually." Karen retorted. She headed for the doorway, where Raphael stood blocking her path.

"Where da ya t'ink yer goin'?" he asked, glaring.

"I think I'm going to check on Donatello and my son, and get the first-aid supplies I need to patch up your brother," snapped Karen. "And I can tell you right now, you'd better drop the attitude, Raphael, or you'll find yourself sleeping in the barn. You may have those," she gestured toward his sai, "And probably close to a hundred pounds on me, but this is still my house."

The amber eyes met her hazel ones for a long moment. Finally, with a huff of annoyance, Raphael stepped back, allowing the woman to pass. Michelangelo watched the entire exchange with wide eyes.

"Dude," he breathed. "She just owned you."

"Chuckle-head," growled Raph, but his eyes followed the woman as she went into the back bedroom where Donatello was working to help Leo.

"How are you doing in here?" Karen's question startled Donatello. He spun, instinctively taking a defensive crouch, shielding his brother who was lying on the bed. Luke stood at the foot of the bed, holding supplies he'd been handing to Donatello.

"Mrs. Vincent." Donatello straightened. "He's… stable. I've set his arm." The Turtle gestured toward the linen bandage wrapped firmly around Leonardo's arm. "Luke gave me some wooden spoons to use for a splint."

"Good thinking." Karen approached, looking down at Leonardo. "He looks so peaceful," she said softly. She glanced at Donatello who was watching her warily. "Are you sure his blood pressure is ok?"

Donatello nodded. "I don't have any way to check it here, but his pulse, breathing and temperature are all normal now. He's just worn out," he passed a weary hand over his face. "We've all been… on edge. And this weather…"

Karen nodded. "You all needed to get warm. You wouldn't have lasted much longer in this wind."

Donatello shivered in the warm room, but didn't answer.

"When he wakes up, we all need to have a sit-down," Karen said firmly. "I still want to know how you guys ended up in my barn and where you came from."

"I'm… not sure we can explain everything," said Don slowly. "I'm not sure I understand it myself."

"Well, for now I just need the salve and one of the big gauze pads out of the first-aid kit. Michelangelo's wound isn't deep but he should keep it covered for a couple of days anyway."

"Is Michelangelo gonna be ok?" Luke swallowed hard. "I didn't mean to shoot him, honest."

"I know that, Honey," said Karen gently. "Why don't you come out with me and talk to him? If you don't need any more help in here, Donatello?"

Don nodded. "We're fine," he said, turning back to Leo.

"Do you need more blankets or anything for him?" asked Karen.

The Turtle shook his head. "Thanks."

"Hey." The woman approached cautiously and laid her hand on his arm. Don twitched, but didn't pull away, just looked at her questioningly. Karen tried him with a smile. "I'm going to fix some food. When you're sure he's ok, you can come out and get something to eat, ok?"

Donatello looked startled. "Umm ok," he said slowly. "Thanks." For the first time, Karen saw a shy smile cross his face.

They really are young, she thought, pity tugging at her heart. I hope we're doing the right thing here. Luke certainly seems convinced they're ok. She glanced at her son.

"Come on, Luke. Let's go talk to the others, ok?"

Luke looked up, his green eyes dark in his pale face. "Ok. I want to apologize to Michelangelo." He started toward the door.

"Luke." Donatello spoke up.

The boy turned to face the Turtle and Karen saw a flash of tension in the way he held himself, as if he expected a reprimand.

"Thanks for the help," said Donatello with a smile. "With Leo."

Luke's face broke into a wide smile. "No problem, man," he said casually, but Karen could see the relief in the way his shoulders relaxed.

She shook her head, hiding a smile. Heroes, mutants, whatever they are, she thought, They seem like good kids.