Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Peter Laird and Kevin Eastman, various publishers including but not limited to Image and Mirage Comics, Paramount Pictures, 4kids and Nickelodeon. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Only thing I own is Rebecca Maitland.
Author's Note: Well. It's certainly been awhile, hasn't it? Over the last two years, this story has been on and off my mind but this chapter was hard to write—so very hard. It wasn't until literally a week ago I FINALLY found a way to make this work and advance the plot forward. Sad thing is I even had it planned out from before but it never seemed right.
If you've stuck it out with this story for as long as you have, I appreciate it so much. I promise more chapters are coming but I am a full time worker now, so my time is rather limited. But I am going to sincerely try. Telling Rebecca and Donatello's story is now more important to me than never.
Anyway, onwards to the story—please review if you are so inclined!
Standing in a sewer blindfolded while a mutated turtle fiddled with controls to allow one to enter his home was becoming the single most awkward thing Rebecca had ever experienced.
They had finally stopped after what felt like eons and Donatello was now configuring the controls that would allow the two of them access to his home ...lair...turtle cave? (Not sure about the proper terms, she thought to herself amusingly).
A squeak in the distance had her head turning as she remembered the mutated rat explanation Donatello had provided about his father. Despite his reassurances, she was still nervous to meet a giant form of something she feared. It hadn't helped she'd been unable to explain her deep fear of the rodents and she had since resigned herself to learning how to be polite to a rat man.
After a few minutes that seemed like hours, she heard Donatello mumbling and the sounds of a numeric key pad going off. Her hand ghosted over the cloth of the black blindfold she had over her eyes and she sighed.
"Can I take this off now?" Rebecca whined, tugging at it. The blindfold routine had gotten old fast and she wanted nothing further then to wrench it away from her forehead.
"Not yet," he replied, concentrating. "I'm finishing the necessary codes now—we just updated and it's taking me a bit longer than I thought—ah, got it!" A cold rush of wind rushed by her as a door whooshed open and Donatello quickly tugged her inside.
Now or never, Rebecca...
Rebecca felt herself engulfed in strong arms within seconds of Donatello removing her blindfold and she saw only a glimpse of an orange mask beforehand.
"Becky! It's great to meet you finally! We've heard so much about you."
"Mikey! She doesn't like-,".
"So!" The turtle continued chatting, ignoring his brother and pulling back to flash her a huge grin. "I've got some fish chopped and ready to roll—Donny mentioned that salmon and cream cheese was one of your favorites, so I have that set up, along with one with some crab and tuna you should like."
"I," Rebecca could only stare, unsure of how to respond. "That—that sounds very nice. Thank you...Mike?"
"The one and only! Also known as Mikey—as Donny just demonstrated—and Michelangelo if you're Master Splinter—speaking of which...Sensei, they're here!" He shouted, causing her to jump suddenly.
Donatello sighed and shooed at his younger brother. "Alright, Mikey—go finish dinner."
"Whatever you say, bro—wait until you see what I've got cooking for dessert!" With that, he scurried off to the kitchen and Rebecca glanced at Donatello, her eyes wide.
He smiled sheepishly at her. "Heh. Sorry. I think he was excited about meeting you."
"...I could see that," she stated, looking around what she could make of Donatello's home. He had been right to a certain extent—you couldn't initially tell their home was in the sewer. The kitchen was in an area off to the left through the entrance and she could see Michelangelo shuffling through there, humming softly to himself. There was a hallway to the right, where she assumed bedrooms were—if they did sleep in separate rooms. There was a TV area in a little drop off from the kitchen with a tattered but comfortable looking tartan couch. She could make out some rooms beyond the kitchen but when finally she turned her attention back to Donatello she was startled to see company already present by his side.
A rat mutant who came to about her height peered at her silently while a turtle with a blue bandana (who Rebecca could only assume was another brother) stood by his side watching her with great intensity. She gulped quietly. The blue one made her nervous. Very nervous—even more than the rat.
"Ah, Miss Maitland, is it?" Donatello's father said softly, offering his paw to shake. "A pleasure to finally have you in our home. I am Master Splinter."
Rebecca tried to quell the fear that rose in the back of her mind. Giant rats were not exactly something one prepared for. Still, she gingerly took his paw and shook it. "T—thank you, very much. I was surprised at the invitation."
"As was I," she heard Donatello mutter and she turned to him, frowning. Quickly, he cleared his throat and gestured to the blue clad turtle.
"Rebecca—Leo—also known as Leonardo. Oldest brother and defacto leader."
Rebecca shifted and felt Leonardo's eyes slide over her. She caught a glimpse of ice blue—different from Michelangelo's which were a deeper shade. They caught hers and he offered her a hand, similar to his father, and a ghost of a smile passed over his mouth.
"Nice to meet you, Rebecca." His grip on her much smaller hand was firm and strong. "It's good to finally put a face to your name."
"Er-," she stumbled over her words, a blush creeping on her cheeks. Donatello had never talked about his family and she was unsure how to respond. "Don mentioned you were a...supportive family?"
Behind Leonardo, she could see Donatello raise his eyeridges in confusion. They both knew he had never uttered those words.
Great. This is going swimmingly.
"I mean—well, he just—he never said much. Just—there was a family. Off the grid," Rebecca finished awkwardly, staring at the floor, hoping it might open up and swallow her whole.
Leonardo surprisingly chuckled and gave her what could pass for a smile. "Noted."
A door slammed shut at that specific moment and for the third time, Rebecca jumped and then blinked when a larger, more buff turtle meandered into the home, red splashed across his eyes.
"Raph, you're right on time for dinner!" Michelangelo called in greeting from the kitchen.
"Please tell me he's the last one," she whispered quickly to Donatello, as Splinter and Leonardo moved forward to discuss something briefly with Raphael. Rebecca could make out words such as 'patrol' and 'Purple Dragons' before she focused her attention back to Donatello.
"I may have more hidden in the back," he smirked at her. "Living off the grid and all, we need to know if we can sustain our species—ouch!"
Rebecca shook her hand out, still smarting from the quick punch to Donatello's thick shoulder. "Serves you right. You have to stop giving me excuses to punch you."
Raphael finally stepped closer to Rebecca, looking at her curiously. He wasn't quite as intense as Leonardo had been but he had more height and weight on him than his oldest brother. He didn't offer a hand like Leonardo and Splinter had but instead gave her a quick nod.
"Raphael—Raph's better," was all he said before heading towards the dinner table where Michelangelo was finishing the place settings and fiddling with a center piece that appeared like it could have been made out of pizza boxes.
"Grub's on," Michelangelo grinned at her, winking.
She surveyed the table and nodded, impressed. Michelangelo had done a nice job—cloth napkins, glasses of water (clean water, she noted) and... a distinct lack of Western silverware. Wooden chopsticks littered each place setting and Rebecca began panicking slightly. There was a reason she stuck to eating sushi via takeout at her own apartment—she'd never learned how to master chopsticks unlike the rest of the sushi eating population.
Michelangelo guided her into a seat, conveniently between Donatello and Leonardo, and the rest of the family began to tuck in, pouring soy sauce and passing the different sushi rolls back and forth with ease. Rebecca gingerly picked up the chopsticks and attempted to side eye Donatello to capture what he was doing. How the hell is he managing this with three fingers versus my five?
"So, Becky—," Michelangelo started, half a roll of sushi in his mouth. "Donny says you're a grad student. What's that? Sounds kinda...boring."
Donatello coughed violently before screeching "Mikey!"
Rebecca stilled her chopsticks, grateful for the distraction. For some reason she couldn't pinpoint, his presence put her at ease. "It can be, but I love it. Basically, I get paid to go to school and do research and the like and when I graduate, I'll have my doctorate in English Literature. I'll be 'Dr. Rebecca Maitland'."
"But not like a real doctor, right?" This time Leonardo shot Michelangelo a glare and Rebecca suppressed a giggle. Some might find the line of questioning offensive but she was happy to find someone working to break the ice. It edged away some of the pressure she was feeling.
"Doctor of Philosophy, technically," she explained.
"So...still not a real doctor?"
"A doctor of the mind and education, Michelangelo," Splinter interjected, taking a small sip of water.
"Gotta admit, dudette, it's a little weird..."
Her smile deepened and she picked up her chopsticks again. "That's what my parents said. I just love English—I hope to teach at a college—hopefully NYU will offer me a position as a lecturer when I graduate." Rebecca bit her lip in thought, trying to arrange the chopsticks clumsily in her hands. She felt another pair of eyes on her and saw Leonardo staring at her, an eyeridge raised.
"Are you alright, Rebecca? Donny did mention you like sushi."
Red flushed to her cheeks. "I do!" She squeaked, as she suddenly felt five pairs of eyes shift to her. "It's just—you know, I eat it mostly at home and never out and-,."
"Here." Raphael reached across the table and grabbed the chopsticks out of her hand, pulling a piece of twine out of his belt. He fiddled with the pair for a few seconds and handed them back to her. The chopsticks were tied together at the end and Rebecca realized she could move them up and down.
"Er—thanks, Raph..." She trailed off, unsure of how to respond to the abrupt but nice gesture.
Raphael shrugged, turning back to his meal and holding his chopsticks like a professional. "Not a problem. Sensei did it for me when I was little—I took longer to learn then the rest of these chumps."
"Not the only thing that took longer," Donatello snorted, taking a bite of his sushi. Raphael shot a glare that could curdle dairy but with some humor behind it.
"Care to fight it out after dinner, Donny boy?"
Donatello shot his brother a grin. "I could wipe you under the table with my bo."
"Psht! As if, I can take you ALL ON with my nunchucks!" Michelangelo joined in, beaming. He shot Rebecca a look, almost in an attempt for her to agree.
"Sorry," Leonardo whispered on Rebecca's left and she glanced at him, surprised at his casual tone. "This is how most of our dinners go...unfortunately."
"It's fine," she whispered back, offering another smile.
As she listened to the bantering among the brothers, she felt the tension ease slightly out of her shoulders as she picked up a piece of sushi successfully with her chopsticks and dunked it in soy sauce. Nostalgia flowed through her. She saw her own family on school breaks but since moving to New York, visits home were few and far between and dinner most nights consisted of eating alone, planted in front of a laptop typing. Rebecca found herself slowly growing accustomed to the rhythm of this family, and even joined in on the laughter after a few minutes with Splinter recounting a story from their childhood.
It was almost as if she had always been here and not at the same time. Gradually, Rebecca let herself imagine doing this on a regular basis, coming down here to them, having them as a second family. They were not all that different, really, aside from the mutant thing. In fact, if you closed your eyes, it almost like you were listening to a normal, human family.
Maybe...maybe this could be a thing that worked?
Could...could it work with Don? The unfiltered thought floated through her mind and she moved quickly to dash it down with a quick swing of water.
Don't get too far ahead of yourself, Rebecca.
Hours ago, Rebecca had been considering asking Donatello if maybe dinners with his family could be a recurring thing where she could get to know them and vice versa. Over the course of the dinner, they had grown on her. She wanted to know about Splinter's past, Leonardo's training techniques. She wanted to know Michelangelo's recipes and how he managed to feed his family with limited resources. She wanted to know the brand of cigarettes Raphael smoked because she had seen a pack resting against his belt. She wanted to know what Donatello really thought of her and if this...thing between them was more than just friendship.
Now...now she wasn't even sure she understood how this all worked. And what things Donatello hadn't told her.
It had started simply enough. Dinner had finished and Rebecca had followed suit with everyone to the makeshift living room to watch TV while Michelangelo put the finishing touches on dessert. Out of nowhere, an alarm rang, blaring like a fog horn, and the brothers were moving immediately on cue, dishes and TV abandoned. A controlled type of chaos erupted and Rebecca could only watch, frozen to the spot, unable to provide any assistance.
"Donny, status report?!" Leonardo shouted across the room as he fitted two large swords onto the back of his shell. Rebecca stared, trying to stay out of the way as Raphael moved swiftly past her shoving two smaller, sharper weapons into his belt that resembled forks.
Donatello had a tablet out that Rebecca had never seen before and his face was scrunched up in concentration, tapping across it rapidly. "Purple Dragon activity...hostages may be involved...shots fired."
"We gotta get going!" Michelangelo yelled, pressing buttons in the kitchen that silenced the screeching alarm. "Hun's been crazy as hell lately with this crap!"
"Be careful, my sons," Splinter stated, standing in a corner. "Remember how unpredictable the gangs have been lately..."
"On it, Sensei," responded Leonardo, tugging open a brick wall out of nowhere. "Come on guys—let's get moving!"
The world was spinning. Rebecca had no idea where to focus her attention, no clue what was going on. She grabbed Donatello as he sprinted past her and he whirled to face her as if he had forgotten she had been there in the first place.
"Don—what—I don't understand-?"
"Stay here with Sensei," he said firmly, hands on her shoulders. "I'll be back soon and then I'll take you home." He turned to leave her, fastening his bo staff to his back. She reached out to grasp his shoulder.
"That still doesn't explain-!"
"Rebecca,"his voice was thick and rigid, brokering no argument. It was like he had slapped her. Tears suddenly pricked her eyes—for the first time in their friendship, she was in the way, a burden.
He sighed, shaking his head at her as he noticed the tears. "I have no time to explain—people could be hurt." Donatello finally turned and jogged towards Leonardo, who was holding the brick door open. Before the brick doors snapped shut, his brown eyes caught her green ones.
"I'll be back."
Rebecca wasn't so sure.
"Did you enjoy the stories, Miss Maitland?" Master Splinter asked, seated at her side on the couch. "I find myself not believing Donna had nothing to do with Stephanie's murder."
Rebecca nodded softly, staring at the cup of green tea Splinter had made for her. It felt like days, when in reality the four brothers had only been gone for a few hours at most. If someone had told her six months ago that at some point in her life, she'd be sitting in a sewer watching DVR'd episodes of a soap opera with a mutated rat, she would have laughed hysterically.
Funny what meeting Donatello had done to her life in a few, short months.
When Splinter had first suggested watching the soap operas, she'd been flabbergasted. Wasn't he worried? Didn't he want to know what his sons would be doing with those weapons, where they were going?
"Aren't you worried?" She blurted out, wrenching her head up from her cup to glare at him. He had been nothing but kind to her since she'd arrived but that did nothing to quell the anger and frustration that coursed through her. Donatello had not made this part of his life clear.
This was never discussed, never mentioned.
The rat started at her for a few moments, expression unchanged.
"You are worried," he acknowledged, nodding in agreement. "I can understand why."
Rebecca fought down the annoyance that threatened to rise to the surface with his lack of an answer. Of course she was worried. They—Donatello—were out fighting and from what it seemed like, they could possibly die.
"To answer your question..." Splinter interrupted her thoughts and moved towards the kitchen to pour himself a fresh cup of tea. "I worry all the time, Miss Maitland." He paused, pouring the tea. "A father always does."
He walked back to the couch and sat closer to her this time, facing her. Heat flushed Rebecca's cheeks. Of course he would be worried...it had been awful of her to even think he wouldn't.
"What has Donatello told of your our life?" The question echoed between them and she tried to will an apology toward him in her mind.
"Not much," Rebecca offered quietly, setting the cup of tea down, unfinished. Her stomach couldn't handle it. "He—he mentioned the ninja training but not much else..."
Splinter nodded, taking a sip of tea. "I am not surprised—my sons were told from an early age to keep much of their lives and their existence a secret. You can understand, Miss Maitland, why we take such precautions?"
"Yes," her mouth quirked. "It was sort of the unspoken thing I wasn't supposed to tell anyone about Don or a family. I just-," she stood up suddenly, pacing in front of the coffee table. "None of this makes sense. Why are they up there? Who are they fighting? What is the point to all of this?!"
Her words reverberated off the walls and tears of frustration pricked her eyes. What the hell have I gotten into?
The rat only stared at her, thoughtful, and she covered her face with her hands to avoid his gaze.
"I—I'm sorry, Master Splinter. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't be taking this out on you." Her voice croaked and she took a deep breath. "Don—he never explained this, never told me."
Another moment of silence passed and the only sound that could be heard was Rebecca's attempts to get her breathing under control.
"I accept your apology," Splinter replied, offering a small smile to comfort her. "Sadly, it is not my place to say precisely—Donatello will explain when he is ready. He is old enough now to handle the explanation of his existence and purpose. But, perhaps..." he trailed off, lost in thought. "Perhaps, I can at least offer you my story. Would that suffice?"
"If you wouldn't mind...sir?" Rebecca asked, adding the last part as an afterthought. She needed to treat this person with more respect. He didn't deserve her anger and resentment.
That...that she would be saving for Donatello when she demanded an explanation.
The gray rat settled comfortably into the couch and began to speak. He recounted his end of the story, how he'd once been human and fallen in love with a human woman named Tang Shen. How their love had been ripped suddenly apart by a man named Oroku Saki who couldn't handle the object of his affections loving another. How the man Oroku Saki became a monster who went by Shredder and spread death and destruction everywhere he went.
"I found my sons not long after becoming what I am now." Splinter surmised. "Donatello, I am sure, will finish the rest. As it is now their story to tell."
Disbelief clouded Rebecca's brain. The mutant thing had been something to adapt to but she'd managed. This—this whole history was beyond anything else she could have imagined. She didn't know what to do, how to react. It was unreal—something someone read in a comic book but here it was, staring her straight in the face.
She was living it.
"Thank you, for telling me, Master Splinter," she finally managed. "It's just...a lot to handle."
His paw landed softly on her shoulder and she didn't flinch but instead caught his eyes, somewhat similar in color to Donatello's.
"You have choices here, Miss Maitland. The lives my sons lead are far beyond comprehension—it is much to expect of someone, to understand and accept this."
There was something more to that, something he wasn't saying and Rebecca couldn't quite put her finger on it.
"I can't even begin to make that decision," she sputtered. "Not—not when I don't know what I should."
Almost on cue, a loud bang sounded from the entrance and the four turtles flooded in and the pandemonium began all over again. Leonardo was shouting orders for specific supplies that Michelangelo fled to the area behind to kitchen to get. Raphael came from behind, with Donatello leaning on him and—
Blood.
There was blood dripping down Donatello's arm, from a large gash in his forearm. It was all Rebecca could see. Before she was aware of what was going on, she flew in front of him, kneeling as Raphael sat him down on a chair.
"What. Happened?" She demanded, her lips set in a grim line.
Donatello grimaced when he saw her and pressed a towel that Leonardo had handed him to the open wound. "Purple Dragon wasn't happy when he saw me trying to jab a tracker into his pocket." He threw a small, green chip onto the table. "Decided he'd show me personally with a knife how much it wasn't appreciated."
"Got the kit, Donny!" Michelangelo shouted, tossing a large first aid kit on the table.
The jolt of the kit distracted Rebecca enough and she was able to make out smaller injuries on the others. There was a bruise forming around one of Raphael's eyes, several scratches along Michelangelo's throat and scrapes along the sides of Leonardo's shoulders.
Everywhere she looked there were scrapes and cuts and bruises. Injuries all around and everyone was eerily calm, even with Donatello bleeding at the table.
"Want me to do it, Donny?" Leonardo asked, taking a seat next to his brother and opening up the kit.
"Nah...I got it," Donatello winced, grabbing the antiseptic and pouring it onto the gash. "I think it'll only have to take a few stitches."
"Stitches?" Rebecca shrieked, glancing around frantically. All four pairs of eyes watched her, confused.
Michelangelo was the first to offer an explanation. "It's pretty normal for us, Becky...we've actually walked away with a lot worse."
"Worse?" She repeated, standing up and backing away. Donatello was now taking a needle that Leonardo had threaded and she watched incredulously as he started to sew the wound close, barely cringing.
A conversation came back to her from several weeks ago.
"I retake them every few years. Just to keep my skills up. You could say I'm the doctor of the family."
"Interesting," she contemplated this for a moment. "Do they get sick a lot?"
"Hurt, actually..." he trailed off, quiet. "It's the ninja thing."
A ninja thing.
She realized now this should have been more evident then. She'd seen the kung fu movies, she'd seen enough action films.
Ninja things could get you killed.
The walk home was awkward, to say the least.
Donatello hadn't been able to carry Rebecca on his shell this time with his bandaged and stitched arm and instead, she'd been dragged blindfolded through the sewers, her feet soaked with only God knows what.
They sat now on the bed in her apartment and Rebecca fingered a cigarette in between her hands. Few words had barely been spoken between them from the time they'd left the lair and Donatello hadn't even offered one disparaging word on the two cigarettes Rebecca had already inhaled.
It was her who finally spoke.
"You've got a lot to explain," she stated softly, rubbing her third cigarette into the ash tray, finished. "You never told me about any of this."
Donatello glared at her, suddenly, anger irrationally taking hold. "I told you I was a ninja—!"
"Well, you withheld a lot of fucking information," she fired back, shooting daggers towards him. "I didn't know about patrols or the superhero bit. God, Don—,". She stood up and began to pace the length of the bed. "All I kept thinking was how I never knew about your life outside of my apartment. And how you could've been hurt and no one would have ever told me because they didn't know about me since you lied to your family."
He almost countered that at least his brothers had known since he'd tracked her for a solid two weeks and went through all the personal records he could find. But, it wasn't a leg to stand on and he knew it. If he mentioned it, he'd be forced to explain how he knew more about her than she had revealed. And there was no way of getting around that—at all.
"I'm sorry, okay?" Donatello apologized, standing up and grabbing Rebecca's arm to stop her pacing. "I should have explained things a little more but, Becca,".
She wrenched her arm out of his grasp, seething. "No. No, you don't get to do that. Not after you left me there, with no explanation, with no way of knowing if I was ever going to see you again. I mean-," her voice broke and tears spilled without warning down her cheeks as she placed a hand softly on the bandage of his arm. "You could've died."
They breathed heavy for a few moments, unmoving, the energy in the room slowly shifting. Donatello could feel the warmth of her hand, even through the bandage. He swallowed loudly and, gradually, his eyes met hers. Time was slowing down and he wondered if he could plead losing control over his actions for what might happen next. His arms moved of their own accord across her back, pulling her closer.
Rebecca wanted to say something but her mouth wouldn't work. She didn't understand quite what was happening as Donatello's arms tightened around her. Her heart beat so fast she was sure it was going to burst through her chest. The tears flowing down her cheeks dried and all she could do was stare.
"Don?" She whispered after a moment, his eyes still boring into her own. She couldn't move, she could barely think.
"Shh," he managed. And before she knew it, a hand was cradling the back of her head and was being propelled forward.
This...this can't be happening.
His mouth touched hers and the whole world seemed to stop. Without even realizing it, she pressed back against him, eyes closing and arms moving across his neck to bring him even closer.
It took a second for Rebecca to adjust to this new, yet not unpleasant reality. Donatello was kissing her. She was kissing a mutant turtle. And it wasn't awful it was...pleasant. It was nice. And he was soft and there was a spark there, something small that ignited, something she had never felt with any other human male she'd kissed.
They were like magnets, attracted to each other beyond all reason. He shifted his head and she followed, not wanting to break the kiss. They stayed that way for several more minutes, just lips moving back and forth, enjoying the sensation. She was just about to open her mouth to him when he finally pulled back and leaned his head against her forehead, taking deep and steady breaths. Her eyes lazily opened and she took in this new sight, concentrating on her breathing.
"What was that...?" Rebecca murmured after a beat, still holding tight to his neck.
"I—I don't know," Donatello stammered, stepping back to peer into her eyes. "It—it can be whatever you want it to be." He swallowed and his voice was thick. "If you—if you regret-,".
"I don't. I don't regret it," she said, firmly, shaking her head. "But, if this is what I think it is...we have a lot of talking to do."
Donatello nodded in agreement and slowly pulled away. "Can you—can you give me a few days? I promise—I'll come clean and we'll talk—no holds barred and everything be explained—but I need to discuss this—with my family."
She gave him an affirmative nod, her eyes shifting to her bed. "No, I understand. It's a big step—I get it."
His hand grazed her cheek and she lifted her eyes back to his. "I promise, Becca. I will explain everything." What would pass for his thumb stroked her cheek and she closed her eyes in response, sighing contentedly. It was scary how easy it would be to get used to this.
"You should get to bed," he finally said, clearing his throat. "I know you have papers and such to work on."
"Yeah—yeah I do," she agreed. "Text me?"
"Always," he responded, watching her carefully for a moment. Before he could have a second thought, he ducked quickly and kissed her cheek before slipping out her window onto her fire escape.
"Goodnight, Becca." And with that, he disappeared into the night.
She stood there silently, watching her curtain flap in the breeze of the open window and a grin spread across her face as her hand stroked her cheek where he had kissed her.
Rebecca didn't know where this was going but she was happy. Very happy.
The next morning came far too soon. Rebecca whipped about her apartment, throwing her hair up in a ponytail. She was due at NYU in a half hour to submit her final grades for underclassmen's papers and she'd overslept, thanks to her inability to set an alarm after last night's events.
A stupid grin flitted across her face as she thought of Donatello's kiss and her thoughts went goofy. He was finally going to come clean. And they might be able to make some progress past this friendship line.
Suddenly, without warning, Rebecca tripped over a pile of books on the floor and her phone slipped out of her hands, flying across the room to hit up against the wall. She winced as she heard the telltale sign of electronic equipment rattling. Quickly, she rushed over to the phone to survey the damage while doing mental math calculations in her head over the costs of a new iPhone. Her eyes caught sight of a green chip lying inexplicably next to the phone.
Nowhere in Rebecca's memory did she ever remember seeing iPhones having this type of green chip fly out of them. Come to think of it, this green chip did look familiar...
A memory from the night before came unbidden into her mind.
"Purple Dragon wasn't happy when he saw me trying to jab a tracker into his pocket." He threw a small, green chip onto the table. "Decided he'd show me personally with a knife how much it wasn't appreciated."
The blood in her veins went white hot and then ice cold as the realization of the chip's origin dawned on her.
Research, she thought quietly to herself, beginning to shake with anger.
I need to do research.