Author's Note: I apologize for the lack of update. Don't you just hate it when writer's block rears its ugly head? That and I finally finished with school for the semester, so I've got more time to write. Anyway, in this chapter, Donnie reunites with the heiress and they agree to dinner, though both are adamant that it's not a date. Also, in this AU, Timothy, aka the Pulverizer, is Donnie's roommate. We also have a hint that Donnie was once in a relationship but it didn't go well. What happened will be revealed later. And towards the end of the chapter, a gold ring plays significance to why Raph hates vigilantes. Read and review!

Chapter 4

If there was one thing Donatello knew about Fridays, it was that Fridays were painfully longer than the other days of the week. Not even Mondays could compare to the grueling day known as Friday. On Fridays, he had to feel the clock go sickeningly slow as he typed away on his computer, and had to listen to everyone else talk about the…explicit things they were going to do over the weekend. Those were pleasant images to have in his already-work-frazzled mind. On the plus side, it would mean getting more time to catch up on his reading, and doing more repair work on that old police radio he found. That device would allow him to listen for potential crimes…which also meant potential Deadly Nightshade sightings.

"Hey Sherlock!" One of Donnie's coworkers called. "Wanna join us at the bar after work for drinks? Or are you too busy chasing Deathly Nightwatch?"

The bespectacled turtle frowned and shot a glare at the obnoxious man. "No, unlike you, my source of entertainment isn't drowning myself in tequila. And it's Deadly Nightshade, for your information. Get your facts straight."

He ignored his coworker calling him an unpleasant name under his breath in favor of typing on his laptop, adding information to his digital journal. He knew it was risky typing on it here where his coworkers could swoop in and read his inner thoughts, but ever since the incident at the bank, he couldn't stop adding to it. And it wouldn't be filled with just his private thoughts…it would also be filled with his finding on the vigilante…his hero. Well, he knew heroine was the proper term.

With the clock now striking four, the bespectacled turtle saved everything on his laptop and desk computer, shut them both down, and gathered his things so he could finally go home. First stop, the coffee shop; next stop, home. He placed his laptop and papers in his bag and hung it on his shoulder before going to clock out. Maybe over the weekend he could get some investigation done, unless his roommate wanted to go on another so-called "male bonding" adventure. The last one ended up with him sporting a broken ankle…

He heard a few people speak to him as he headed out the door. Typical things like 'Good luck chasing the vigilante, Detective' and 'Say hi to Scooby Doo for me', along with other drivel. He wasn't trying to act like he was above them, but at the same time, they didn't need to treat him like he was below them. All he wanted was to do his job and make a name for himself…was that too much to ask? Apparently so…and right now he just wanted to get out of there and not think about the people who constantly put him down.

The first thing Donnie did when he started up his car was put on some SOHN and HAIM; not many people knew of his fascination with techno music. But for a moment it made him forget about the things that were wrong and transported him into a world of his own thoughts…until he almost ran a stop sign and had to focus on the road. Sometimes he just couldn't help himself and go off into his own world, especially if it meant he could temporarily forget about the things causing him problems. He could've dwelled on it more, but thankfully the coffee shop was in view, making him pull up to the curbside and park.

He didn't seem to notice over at the table closest to the window the stranger reading on a book and sipping on an iced coffee. If he did, he would know the lady wasn't exactly a stranger, and he did realize that a moment later when he looked her way coming in the door. The sight made him jump out of his skin for a second, followed by being washed over by a feeling of discomfort and awkwardness. Oh…oh no, it was…

Cheyloe Olizweski.

The bespectacled turtle gulped and tried to hide himself within the crowd of customers waiting to get their caffeine fix. But two things worked against him: he was the only anthropomorphic turtle in the shop and he was the tallest. Maybe she would be too distracted by her book to notice him; yes, that was a possibility. But that was destined not to happen, and as he got closer to the counter, he noticed her look up from the novel and immediately make eye-contact with him. Crud.

Cheyloe couldn't help but stare into his eyes, even from the distance separating them. It was him…the journalist from the charity event…Donatello. And now she remembered from the news; he was one of the hostages in the attempted bank robbery! But he was rescued and made it out unharmed, much to her relief. But now he acted like he was avoiding her. A wave of embarrassment suddenly hit her and she glanced away for a split-second; she HAD told him that she and her mother didn't like journalists. Dog-earing the place in her book, she carried it and her coffee towards the line and right up to Donatello, who seemed to slink away at her presence.

"…Donatello, right?" She asked softly. "I honestly didn't think we'd see each other here. I saw that news report about the bank robbery; please tell me you're okay!"

Donnie scratched the back of his neck and bit on his lower lip. "W-Well, I've been better, to be honest. Though I'm certain nothing can compare to being a hostage… So…how have you been, Miss Olizweski?"

"You don't have to be so formal with me, in public or not. You can always just call me Cheyloe." The brunette giggled. The giggling puttered out though, and she stared at him with the same awkward feeling in her eyes he had. Okay, she had to say it and say it now. "Donatello…listen…I want to apologize for what happened at the party."

"Apologize?" Donnie repeated. "For what?"

"I think it should be obvious." Cheyloe deadpanned, moving with him as he progressed through the line. "When I told you to your face that I didn't like journalists. I know that hurt you, and that wasn't my intention at all."

"Um, well…I'll be honest with you." The bespectacled turtle began. "I came with my friend April to the party…simply because I wanted to interview Chief Raphael and Mayor Hamato about the crime and the vigilante stopping them. April told me that your family wasn't fond of journalists, but I didn't believe it…and, I wanted to find you and ask you if it was true."

The woman's eyes widened but softened just as quickly. No wonder he felt so awkward, and not just over her 'I don't like journalists' comment. "Well…I'm really glad you told me the truth. Don't ever be afraid to be straight-forward with me; I won't hold a grudge for it."

Donnie felt a sort of relief splash over him, though it didn't completely get rid of his awkward aura around the heiress. She apologized and expressed gratitude for his honesty, so why did it remain? Could it be their differences in social status? Was it his own lack of social skills? Or perhaps…no, that would be too soon. Did he even HAVE those sort of feelings for someone he barely knew? He got so caught up in his conflicting emotions he didn't even realize he was at the counter now.

"Are you going to order somethin' or not?" The barista asked snippily.

"O-Oh, sorry!" The turtle sputtered. "Um…large black coffee with two sugars, please!"

Cheyloe watched the barista type in the order, and then cast her eyes on the pastry display. It only took a moment of contemplation before she opened her wallet and cut in, "Could you add a couple of toffee brownies on that? Put everything on my tab."

"Wha…n-no, it's okay, Cheyloe! I-I can pay for it!" Donnie insisted, albeit panicky. "Really, I can!"

"Nonsense, it's on me." She chirped, pulling money from her wallet and handing it to the barista. "Besides…why don't we use this opportunity to chat with each other? You know, without my mom hovering over us or people asking me for requests every minute."

Now Donnie could feel his heart about to jump straight out of his plastron. Wasn't it supposed to be him offering to get her a coffee? At least that's what he remembered that etiquette called for. But it wasn't often that a woman he hardly knew offered to buy his coffee AND add pastries to it. He automatically began to formulate how he could possibly make this up to her when the woman grabbed the coffee and pastries and asked, "Would you like to sit down?"

Despite his attempt to protest and say he really had to go, he felt himself being led by Cheyloe to the table she occupied and sitting opposite of her. He couldn't remember the last time that he sat at the same table with a lady; maybe the last time he tried dating, but this was no date. He began to open his mouth to say something, but closed it quickly. Especially when he saw she was going to speak first.

"So…um…" Cheyloe cleared her throat to get the words out. "What's it like to work as a journalist?"

"Huh? Oh, well, this is the first time anyone's asked me this." Donnie sheepishly admitted. "It has its perks…if you get famous enough, you can travel to other countries to cover stories. Of course…you have to be careful with what you find out, or you may end up…dead."

"That comes with investigative journalism, right? I actually saw you wrote about the new pet store downtown. It was really great." She beamed, flashing a smile.

Donatello found himself blushing madly. "You really like it? W-Well, thanks…but a pet store article doesn't exactly get me a Pulitzer Prize."

The brunette rested her head in her hand, absentmindedly taking a bite out of one of the toffee brownies. "Don't you usually have to start at the very bottom and work your way to the top? I think you'll be at that Pulitzer Prize, you just have to give it some time."

The turtle sighed. "I don't know…I mean, no one at the news station takes me seriously enough to allow me to write the BIG articles. Truth is, apart from the intern, I'm the youngest person at the station, so everyone treats me like my ideas are stupid and nonsensical."

Cheyloe's eyes widened and she raised her head up. "That's awful! Just because you're the youngest doesn't mean your ideas are stupid! If anything…your age should work to your advantage! Give them all fresh ideas!"

Donnie suddenly crossed his arms and rested his head in them. "Maybe…but try convincing Burne Thompson of that. Whatever he assigns me, and it's usually the stuff in the far corners of the paper, I have to do, and I get no thanks for it."

"Sounds almost like journalism's a thankless job in a nutshell." The woman deadpanned. "But don't let it get you down. Just keep working hard and aiming to be the best in your field. That's all you can do. Just don't think about asking ME for an interview, okay?"

To his surprise, Donnie found himself laughing, and it was a genuine laugh, too. "Thank you, Cheyloe. That's made me feel a little better. Still…getting to the top won't be easy, but I think I've found the story that'll speed my success up!"

"Want to talk about it over dinner?" Cheyloe suggested.

The bespectacled turtle froze and his face dropped at the request. "W-Wait, did you say 'dinner'? No offense, but…are you asking me out on a date?"

Cheyloe snorted and her face slowly turned beet-red, a hand instantly flying over her mouth. "Oh, no, no! I just mean meet up somewhere and, you know, chat! I want to know more about your work, and in turn I'll tell you what it's like to be the child of a diplomat. Don't worry, I won't tell my mom. But if she finds out, it's strictly platonic."

"R-Right, right." Donnie agreed, feverishly nodding his head. "Strictly platonic! Sounds good to me!" He glanced over the interior of the coffee shop and asked, "So, uh, what time and where?"

"You like sushi?" Cheyloe asked. "If so, how about Sushi Nakazawa? It's a little expensive, but I'm buying anyway. We can eat and talk there, if that's okay. It doesn't open until 5, so how about tomorrow at 6 o'clock?"

Granted, it had been a long time since he ate sushi, and it was that kind he got at a quick stop. But a place like Sushi Nakazawa? Cheyloe Olizweski had good taste, but he felt bad that she would be paying for it, even though he couldn't really afford dinner there himself. He would figure out a way to repay her. "That…that sounds great. Sushi Nakazawa at 6 o'clock it is!"

The moment the apartment door swung open, Donatello rushed inside and closed the door behind him, pressing his shell to it as though he was trying to hide from someone. In reality, it was the realization sinking in that he just agreed to go with Cheyloe Olizweski to dinner the following evening. Everything was just fine until he started up the elevator to his apartment, and their conversation replayed in his mind. Now he sweated bullets and his heart pounded in his chest like a native drum. He couldn't remember the last time he went on a date, and the first time he did, it led to…

Shaking his head, he was greeted by a heavyset young man pulling an instant meal out of the microwave. "Hey Donnie, where were you? I didn't think it would take you that long to get a coffee. Long line again?"

The bespectacled turtle sat down his bag and only mumbled incoherently. The man, his roommate, sat his meal down on the counter and asked in a now-concerned tone, "Donnie, you okay?"

Donatello finally regained at least some of his composure before turning to face his friend. "Timothy, did I throw away that suit I had for my job interview?"

"Uh…I don't remembering you throwing it away. I think it's still in the back of your closet last time I cleaned." Timothy shrugged. "Why do you need it?"

Donnie adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath, taking his ID badge off and setting it on the nearby table. "I'm going out to dinner with someone tomorrow. And before you start, it's NOT a date! You could say it's more of a…um…casual meeting?"

Tim blinked before laughing and heartily smacking the turtle on his shell. Donnie yelped and shot forward before regaining his balance; it was that strength that made Timothy such a proficient security guard. "Don, going out to dinner with someone is qualified to be a date. So, who's the lady you've sunk your hooks into, eh?"

Donnie ignored his roommate nudging him in the side. "You won't believe me if I tell you."

"Oh c'mon, try me!" The man insisted. "I've been your roommate for the past three years; you can trust me enough to tell me!"

Donatello bit his lip before replying in a strained voice, "…Cheyloe Olizweski."

Timothy fell silent and just blinked his eyes, digesting the name his roommate just gave him. It took a moment and Donnie giving him odd looks before his mouth gaped open. "Cheyloe Olizweski…as in Cheyloe Olizweski the heiress!? THAT Cheyloe Olizweski!? Oh man, Donnie, how'd that happen!?"

"…I was going to get to that." The turtle sighed through gritted teeth. "I saw her at the coffee shop and she talked to me…said she was sorry about saying she didn't like journalists." Yeah, he told Timothy about what happened at the charity event, albeit grudgingly. "She asked me to dinner tomorrow at Sushi Nakazawa to just talk…y'now, ask me what it's like to be a journalist and all that jazz."

"Why do I have a hard time believing that?" Timothy asked with great sarcasm, having a somewhat-smug look on his face. "I don't know, buddy…I think she may like you."

"What? T-That's ridiculous!" Donnie sputtered. "Besides…you know what happened the last time I was in a relationship…"

Tim's expression dropped and he looked guilty for teasing him. "Sorry Don…but you don't know…maybe this one will be better. Don't let the past hold you back, okay? Look, I'll wash your suit and have it ready for you, so just focus on having a great time tomorrow."

The turtle mulled that statement over, but it didn't take long for a smile to form on his lips. While Timothy was often kind of impulsive, and klutzy to boot, he was like a big teddy bear and knew when and when not to joke about something. He was also a friend he wouldn't trade for the world. "Thanks, Tim."

Tim nodded and offered another hearty slap on his roommate's shell. "All right, go kick your shoes off and I'll fix you some leftover tortellini!"

"I shall take you up on that offer." Donnie joked.

Even though it was already after-hours at the police station, one desk still had a light illuminating over it, casting shadows around the rest of the corridors. On the desk lay several papers, most of them eye-witness accounts, others old case files. A pair of green eyes scanned over them, once, twice, three times, going over every little detail. If anyone said Chief Raphael was a workaholic that would be an understatement. While he dedicated himself totally to his work, it bordered right on an obsession.

His hand nudge a nearby ashtray as he went to grab a pen, clicking it to life and circling on a paper that made mention of that freak Deadly Nightshade. As everyone knew, if there was one thing Raph hated, it was a vigilante. They were all scum to him, no better than the mob bosses, druggies, and serial killers. They were all alike, and nothing could change his mind. Deadly Nightshade was no exception, and once he had her cornered, he would toss her in a jail cell for the rest of her life. It was then he let out a sigh, coughed into his wrist, and opened his top desk drawer. He fished around for a moment before pulling out something…something that resembled a gold ring.

For once, a wave that mixed nostalgia and sadness lessened the hardness in his gaze and made his frown disappear. He hated himself for forgetting to take it home with him, but he wouldn't make that mistake again. He held the ring in his clenched fist and pressed it to the middle of his forehead.

"…I'm not going to let you get away from me next time, Nightshade."