I'm sorry for the long hiatus. We moved, my computer died a slow and horrible death, and also I got a promotion at work. However, through all that, I kept writing, and this story is now numbering around 215 pages in Word, and it isn't even done yet! Yikes! But I'm enjoying the direction we're going, and I hope you do, too. Here's a good long chapter for you to make up for the absence.

Probably I'll keep updating sporadically for a while, until the whole thing is done on my end, and then it'll be weekly-ish updates to the end.

This chapter is dedicated to the LJ user staplesandpens, who participated in a little game I ran on LJ where I posted lines from all my incomplete stories and guessed this one correctly. Sadly, the scene I referenced is a ways out, but we'll get there, I promise!

I do not own the TMNT or Godzilla or the human characters from G:TS. I'm borrowing them and throwing them together in a mix of mayhem and mischief for my own (and hopefully others') amusement. Don't sue me; there's nothing worth claiming!

Enjoy!

"What's a guy gotta do to get some food around here?"

So often he heard words like those, it took a moment for Splinter to realize that they were spoken aloud beside him and not simply in his wistful heart or by an errant son. Opening his eyes to the form before him, he was met by the gentle face of Donatello, sitting up and no longer pale.

"Donnie!" Three green rockets shot from the living area to the bedside in a noisy instant.

"My son! Are you well?" Master Splinter put a hand on the arm that had been so still for so many hours. In fact, his vigil had been largely uninterrupted for almost half a day, while his other sons had waited restlessly, April had napped on and off, and Leatherhead had worked tirelessly. The giant crocodile approached.

"How do you feel, my friend?"

"Fine, actually," came the cheerful reply. "Hungry." He smiled at his brothers, and they visibly relaxed.

"As I suspected, then, the chemical was mostly inert in your system," Leatherhead nodded to himself, making some notes. "Actually, we're quite fortunate. Had it been any of the rest of us, the results would not have been as good."

"Whaddya mean?" Casey asked. The clumsy but well-meaning friend had mostly spent his time trying to help, and otherwise distracting the turtles.

"Let me guess," Donatello said. "My system is full of antibodies and other leftovers from my recent experience, and these allowed me to fight off the effects of Bishop's chemicals. But if it had gotten into any of your blood," he nodded at his brothers, "it would have done the same as what happened to me before, if not worse."

"Essentially, yes."

"Fascinating. Can I see the results of…?" Donatello began to ask.

"Nope. First you eat," Leonardo decided. "Then you sleep. Then you can do the science thing again." At his brother's half-glare he shrugged, "We're not taking any chances with you, Donnie. Can't you get that through your head?"

"Too many brains in the way," Raph grumbled. But he was smiling anyway.

"There's a problem you don't even have Raphie-boy, 'cause you don't have enough brains to be in the way of having…um…" Mikey trailed off.

"Case in point, Mike. Case in point."

-==OOO==-

"So how come you're still awake?"

The question startled April so much she jumped in her chair. Spinning, she saw Donatello smiling apologetically as he approached.

"Just going through some of the encryptions you gave me from Bishop's equipment. I've managed to break through the second layer of security, and I think…" she turned back to the screen and typed furiously. "I think I've almost got the third."

"Wow, April. Way to go. So what did you find?" Donatello pulled a chair up to his workstation, letting April remain at the computer itself. He knew it wouldn't be long before one of his overprotective brothers appeared to shoo him back to bed, so he took the chance he had.

"Not much – the best stuff is still protected. But from what I can tell, you managed to hack into a pretty good repository of his data on the chemical properties of your own mutation as well as that of Godzilla. Looks like he's back to his old tricks, trying to make an army of Godzillas to protect the world or something," April sighed. "I think one is more than enough!"

"And an army of Godzillas under Bishop's control doesn't exactly fill me with confidence either," Donatello nodded.

"Yes, but it looks like Bishop can't get there, at least not yet. Here," she brought up a file. "Am I reading this right? I know computers way better than biology." Donatello leaned over to read for a few moments.

"If you think you're looking at proof that Bishop can't bind Godzilla's DNA to human DNA, then yes you're right. He tried the same tactics he used with our DNA, but it doesn't look like it transfers right. Something about the nuclear side of things doesn't seem to play nice with the human body, surprisingly enough."

"Well, that's encouraging. Maybe now that we've got this information and he doesn't, maybe we've slowed him down," April replied.

"We can hope."

-==OOO==-

"My son, you should be resting," Splinter startled Don. April had gone home an hour ago, and Donatello had been hoping he would be left to do some work. But there was no chance of him being awake without his sensei knowing it – their whole lives, Splinter had never missed a moment of what went on in their lair, regardless of whether or not there was a door between himself and his sons. Apparently, the rat had decided this son had been up long enough.

"I know. I just…I want to figure this out," Don sighed. On one screen before him were the partially decoded files from Bishop. On another, the details of his recent mutation and the cure Leatherhead had devised with Baxter Stockman.

"Much troubles you of late, Donatello," Splinter said, taking a seat nearby. "Since your recovery, you have seemed distant, hesitant. You keep more to yourself, carry a few more cares, push yourself harder than ever. Is there nothing I can do to ease your mind?"

Don met his father's eyes and felt himself suddenly touched with guilt. Much as he hated to admit it, he had been keeping secrets, he had been pushing his family away a little. In fact, ever since Karai had taken their lair from them, he hadn't been entirely on his game. So much, from the ease with which the Foot had found and destroyed them, to his own carelessness in battle with an infected creature that nearly cost him his sanity, it was all his fault. How could he reengage with his brothers with so many mistakes on his recent record?

"I…I'm fine, Master Splinter," Don tried to dismiss it. "There's been so much going on, and I've been really caught up in things, especially with trying to learn my lesson from the outbreak virus for next time. I wasn't ready, I wasn't quick enough. I didn't see all the angles I should have seen. I have to do better, be more prepared, in case there's a next time."

"You could not have foreseen the consequences of Bishop's actions," his sensei replied kindly. "You are not at fault in any way. You have never let us down when we have depended upon you for solutions."

"Yeah, but who was it that got turned into a monster? Because of me, you all ended up having to do things you never should have done. I mean, making a deal with Bishop? Storming Foot Central just to bargain for me? It should never have come to that!" Donatello squeezed his fists tightly, trying to check his frustration.

"My son," and Splinter's voice took on the tone that demanded complete attention; Don looked up. "Do not let our decisions cause you such guilt that you distance yourself from us. Had our positions been reversed, you would have done the same for any of your brothers, or for myself. I know this. Do not make the mistake of believing that if you push us away we will not take a risk for you again."

"I…" the turtle began. But his throat closed; there was nothing to say. It was true: he was pulling away from them, not because he didn't care, not because he wasn't thankful for what they had done to save him. But because he never, ever wanted them to have to do it again, not for his sake. He needed to make certain that, if anything ever happened again, his brothers were not without recourse, were not dependent on enemies for help. Maybe that was why he was so set on forming a friendship or alliance with Nick of the HEAT team, even against every lesson he'd ever learned about secrecy. Because then, even if the worst happened, his family would be safe. Somebody with knowledge and experience would be there to fill in the gap. If he could make it work, anyway. It was like preparing a back-up database, except he was trying to create a back-up of himself, to protect them if he failed.

"We will not speak on this again until you are ready." Rising gracefully, Splinter put a hand on his son's shoulder. Though Donatello might himself be unaware, he was the most expressive of the turtles when it came to deeply-felt emotion. The ninja master did not know all of what had passed through his son's mind when he had fallen silent, but he had some idea. "Now, return to your rest, and try to find peace. You are among your family, Donatello. There is nowhere safer than this for you. Take solace in this."

"I'll try, father. Thank you." And Donatello managed a smile. As he made his way to his room, however, feeling his sensei's eyes on him the whole way, he swallowed. Nearly getting infected a second time by Bishop was just more evidence that he had a long way to go before he could trust again. It wasn't that he didn't trust his family – Donatello no longer trusted himself.

-==OOO==-

Nick,

Sorry it's been such a long time since my last email. A lot has happened.

That guy you asked me about, the one with the dark coat and glasses? Yes, I know him and he's seriously bad news. His name is Bishop and trust me, this is somebody you want to keep as far away from you and Godzilla as possible. The reason it's taken me so long to get back to you was that I decided to follow up on your email and ran into him. And it's just now that I'm mostly back to myself.

From what I could learn, it looks like Bishop's studying Godzilla with an eye to replicating the mutation in a controlled form. So if you see the guy, keep him as far from your notes or your big scaly friend as you can. Or get Godzilla to eat him.

I'm joking, but I'm serious. This guy is NOT a friend, not to anybody.

I'll hold off on sending anything else through for a while if it helps, but if Bishop is starting to take interest in you, I think we'll need to work together even more just to keep your knowledge safe. I'm not sure what to do about my own team, but I'll think of something.

In the meantime, keep your head up and be careful.

Probably seeing you soon,

Don

-==OOO==-

Nick sighed as he crossed the street, a certain amount of frustration in his step. It seemed like nothing had gone right for weeks. First the chance encounter with Donatello that ended so badly, then an overzealous hacker caused Randy to have to reengineer half their equipment to keep their data and systems safe, then something had happened to Donnie which the turtle had refused to explain but sounded serious, and now this. What should have been an informal gathering of various scientists had instead turned into an awkward scenario in which Nick found himself on the losing end of a debate about the value of mutations. He supposed it was inevitable – when you get a room full of scientists who have been in labs so long they'd forgotten what being in the field was like, they were somewhat hesitant to be receptive to ideas so outrageous and, well, giant. Like Godzilla.

Nick fought the urge to kick the sidewalk like a petulant child. Even with Godzilla floating serenely out in the ocean somewhere, sending him familiar sensations of swimming, speed and grace in the dark underwater world, he couldn't help but feel tense. It wasn't bad enough that his life's work, and his greatest achievements, meant so little to the scientific community, that, in fact, if anyone outside of HEAT or Major Hicks knew exactly how "close" he was to his "subject," there would be nothing short of mutant interference that would save him from every test those small-minded lab rats could imagine. Godzilla, for all the terror he could inspire, also seemed to encourage disdain from the scientific community, and had a reputation of being a big, brainless annoyance with a laundry list of reasons he should be studied from under glass. But they didn't understand. They couldn't understand. Even before the bond, Nick had known Godzilla was special. It had taken him months to convince HEAT of the same. And it was looking like it might be decades before anyone of any scientific standing would agree. They were so busy being afraid of Godzilla, and maybe secretly ashamed that their precious sciences had so twisted nature as to produce him, they never saw what he was worth.

But Nick knew. He couldn't help but know - the glory of Godzilla's being was a part of him now.

Though he was miles from the nearest bridge to Staten Island, Nick decided against a cab. Monetary considerations notwithstanding, it was a beautiful summer night and a walk would probably do him good. Godzilla was having his own fun swimming and hunting fish, and the lizard's tranquil mood was definitely contagious. As the pavement passed unnoticed beneath his worn shoes, Nick felt himself relaxing into the city around him. Even at night, maybe especially at night, the hum of life in New York City was soothing. He could almost feel mothers singing to their children at bedtime, friends laughing, night-workers setting out to their jobs…

Punks surrounding him…

Nick's eyes narrowed as he pulled himself a little more together. There were two in front and three more approaching from behind. From the colors and the tattoos visible, he recognized the Purple Dragons, one of the local gangs that was in the news so much. His options were limited, given that the area was all but deserted, but the danger was far enough away that he could probably lose them down a side street if he caught them by surprise. Feeling adrenaline rush through him, Nick broke into a sprint, ducking to one side, across the road, and around the corner of a building.

Smack!

Nick bounced off a man big enough to be a boxcar, but he was quick enough to keep from getting knocked to the ground by the impact. As he turned to head in a new direction, two more Purple Dragons appeared.

"Well, what do we have here? Out late, mister? There's a toll for that," the mountainous man said in a gravelly voice. A tattoo of, obviously, a Purple Dragon emblem wound its way up his throat menacingly.

"Thanks for the warning," Nick said wryly. With the practice of more than one altercation and plenty of sparring with Monique, Nick charged the smallest of the thugs, slamming him with a fist as he dashed by. Shouts followed him as he pounded down the sidewalk. Generally, Nick was fine with standing and fighting, but he was well outnumbered, and even the French agent would have thought twice before taking on this giant and all his friends single-handed.

Something struck his head from out of nowhere and Nick stumbled as a rush of blood flowed into his eyes. Somewhere in the ocean, the scientist could feel Godzilla roaring in fury, paddling back to the city as fast as he could. Though Nick tried to convey to his charge that this was not really a good time for Godzilla to come to the rescue, the pain of the gash on his head and the Purple Dragons closing on him weakened the argument. Nick stood and readied himself for a fight, both physical and mental, and he wasn't sure which was more important that he win. Or that he stood any chance of winning either. The odds were certainly against him.

"Well, look at what we have here!" quipped a cheerful voice. From the sky, or so it seemed, four shapes dropped around him, and Nick was startled to recognize them as mutant terrapins.

"Are you all right, Nick?" Donatello asked, drawing up close. In the dimness between streetlights, Nick could make out the familiar form, clutching the same staff weapon he had been carrying before. Of the other three, one bore twin swords, one a pair of sai, and the third a set of nunchaku.

"Yeah, we were just having a nice chat," he replied lightly, wiping a bit of blood from his forehead. In spite of the strangeness of it all, Nick felt suddenly much safer.

"Well, hope you don't mind if we butt in!" said a turtle with a red bandana, his voice cutting and eager.

"The turtles!" yelled the giant Purple Dragon as he turned nearly purple with rage. "Get them!" A heartbeat later, the street seemed full of Purple Dragons, though there probably weren't more than twenty or thirty. Still, more than plenty.

"Donnie, you stay with Dr Tat…with the doctor," the turtle with the blue bandana stumbled over Nick's name as he spoke authoritatively, "and if things get too hairy, get clear. We'll be right behind you."

"I can handle myself, if you can take the big guy," Nick said, pride hurt.

"Have it your way, doc!" the turtle in orange grinned. The four turtles fell into a formation around him, and Nick couldn't help but be amazed at the incredible fluidity of how they moved. Godzilla was size and strength and a type of raw grace, but these four were something else.

"Ready guys?" the blue turtle asked, kitanas drawn.

"Right behind you," Donatello said.

As one, the four leapt into the air and attacked. Working both independently and with flawless teamwork, the turtles made quick work of every thug that dared approach them. But, unlike combat beside Monique, which was quick and efficient, the turtles seemed to enjoy each other's company as much as the fight itself. Nick was amazed.

"Hey Mikey, comin' atcha!" the red-clad turtle yelled, flinging a trash can towards the turtle who fought with nunchaku. Without even looking, the turtle in the orange bandana, "Mikey," caught the receptacle in the middle of a backflip, neatly clanging it on the heads of two Purple Dragons and slamming it down over a third.

"Nice assist, Raph!" Mikey called back.

"Little help here guys," Donatello called, and Nick turned to see the turtle he knew disappear under a pile of several large Purple Dragons. Before he could even step in the direction to help, though, a blur went past.

"I gotcha Don!" the turtle in blue struck down each individual with a neat precision that even Monique would have appreciated. He pulled Donatello to his feet.

"Thanks Leo. But I think things are starting to get a little crowded," Don pointed down the street. More Purple Dragons were approaching en masse.

"So what's the call, fearless leader?" the one called Raph asked, a sardonic twist in his voice.

"Pull back," Leo replied amidst dispatching two more punks. "This isn't the time for this fight."

"Doctor, you'd better come with us," Donatello said, suddenly beside Nick. For the first time, Nick registered that the turtles were significantly shorter than him – somehow, from their skills and the strength with which they carried themselves, he'd not really noticed until now.

"All right," Nick said. Godzilla was close now, too close, and unless he wanted his enormous charge to unleash his fury on the city without the excuse of an equally large mutant threat, he needed to get himself out of danger and quick. He readied himself for another sprint. "Where to?"

"No time to explain," the blue-clad turtle said, regrouping with the others in a tight knot. "Donnie, you take him. Mike, how about a little cover?"

"Coming up!" The turtle in the orange bandana disarmed a Purple Dragon who was wielding a club, then tossed it into the nearest streetlight. In the sudden darkness, given that other nearby streetlights were dim or non-functional, Nick felt an arm wrap fast around his waist and pull, a sudden admonition for silence quieting him before he could yelp. He could no more have told which direction he was going than he could have told which was up when he was swimming within Godzilla's mind, but the ride was only a few moments. Breathless, he waited for the blood to stop singing in his ears, then looked around.

The four turtles were facing him, all of them standing ankle-deep in fetid water. The space was dim, and it took a few moments for Nick to realize that he was probably underground, in a nearby sewer. But he had no idea how they had managed to get here so quickly, in pitch-darkness, with him along for the ride. For that matter, how had they stuffed him down a manhole without his knowing it?

"How…?"

"Sorry dude, but the sewers are just about the best retreat ever," Mike commented. "They're always there, and nobody ever wants to follow you!"

"Doctor Tat…Doctor, are you all right? Looks like you got hit by a rock or something," Leo said, gesturing towards the still bloody gash. "Donnie, should we patch it up?"

"Probably. But I don't have any of my supplies on me, and we're nowhere near one of my drop-points."

"Drop points?" Nick asked. Even as he listened to the conversation surrounding him, Nick reached inward for Godzilla, sending him feelings of calm. He could feel Godzilla poking around in his mind, almost as if to assure himself that his parent was as safe as he was projecting, but after a few moments seemed satisfied. Nick "talked" Godzilla into returning to hunting fish, promising that if he needed his help, he'd ask. The city didn't need a giant lizard visitor tonight, especially one on a rampage over an altercation that was already over.

"I keep a few caches of things hidden around the city, just in case we need them in a hurry. But we're a lot closer to home than any of them," Donatello answered softly.

A long silence fell. Nick looked and saw the turtles making eye contact, and though their faces didn't betray much, he had the sense that these four could read each other with their eyes closed, in the dark, underwater, while fast asleep. In the lull, a slow trickle in his mind told him that Godzilla was cautiously willing to obey his parent and go back to fishing, but the feeling Nick got from him equated to approximately, "yes, I trust you're okay now, but I've got my eye on you and if anything happens, I'll be there no matter what you say." Which was a far sight better than tearing up the streets to find him; Nick could handle this arrangement. He pushed himself back to his surroundings and refocused on the turtles.

"Guys, he's okay," Donatello said, finally breaking the quiet. "Nick's a scientist, like me. He's not a bad guy."

"You're on pretty comfy terms for somebody you only seen once, bro," Raph pointed out archly.

"Well…the truth is that we've been emailing since I, you know, met him. There's too much we can learn from each other for us not to work together. And I told you that you could trust him!" He felt the truth explode from him. It was a terrible betrayal, in a way – the turtles lived their lives secretly, and here he had shared some of their most intimate secrets with someone who was still basically a stranger. But it was a gamble worth the effort. If it paid off, if he managed to earn the trust of this human, and maybe his team, he'd have more than another scientific ally. He'd have a back-up plan.

"I guess I'm not totally surprised," Leo replied, sighing. "You never could resist the chance to learn." So this was what Donnie had been keeping from them. He turned towards Nick, and the biologist suddenly felt as though he were being examined down to the level of the soul. "Look, we live a pretty secret life, and we need to keep it that way. Donnie's willing to vouch for you, and from what he told us you didn't hurt him last time, so I'm willing to extend a little faith. But can you keep us a secret? Can you keep whatever you learn about us from ever being exposed?"

"Leo, Godzilla's more rumor than truth in the city even though they've all seen him in action more than once, and Nick works with him all day long. If he can keep something thirty stories tall a secret, I think he can handle us," the purple-clad turtle remarked. Raph snorted at his brother, but nodded.

"Besides, what's worse than what he knows now?" Mikey asked.

"I want your word, doctor," Leo pressed.

"Done. I won't reveal anything to anyone outside my team. I'll have to tell them, though. We work everything together, and they make my life miserable when I leave them out of stuff." He winced internally at the lecture he would get from Monique if she found out how badly he had let his guard down tonight.

"Tell me about it," Donatello sighed.

"All right. We'll take you back to the lair."

"Um…not to sound stupid but…" Mikey put up a hand as if he were in school.

"Why stop now? It wouldn't be much of a change for you," Raph interrupted the turtle with the orange bandana.

"Hey! Anyway, can somebody tell me who exactly this doctor is? I know he's connected to Godzilla, and his name's hard to pronounce, and he's been on the news. But that's all I got."

"Sorry. I should have done that before. Guys, this is Dr Nick Tatopoulos, not only an expert in the field of biology and nuclear physics, but he is also the world's best living expert on mutations in general and Godzilla in particular."

"Nice to meet you," Nick said.

"Likewise Doctor Tat...Tatooi…Tatty…can I call you Nick?" Mikey asked. Nick nodded and smiled – by now, he was used to it.

"Please allow me to present my brothers – Leonardo, Raphael, and Michelangelo," Donatello said, gesturing at each one in turn. Leo nodded in greeting, Raph grunted, and Mikey waved cheerfully. "This is who rescued me from your lab."

"A pleasure. But how did you learn to do all that? The fighting and the disappearing trick?" Nick asked as he fell into a strangely comfortable formation with the turtles as they began making their way down the sewer towards what was apparently their home.

"It's a really long story…"