A/N: Hang in there with me dear readers, it looks like this is going to be a long ride. Special thanks to Illusionna for beta-ing and to Katstories for brainstorming with me.

XOXOXOX

"What do you mean I'm fired? I didn't do anything wrong, and I need this job!" Denim slapped a hand on her boss's desk and the scrawny man jumped.

"I'm sorry, Denim. But since you've become involved with mutants, there have been… disturbances here. And with your recent run in with the law, then taking time off to recover from whatever it is that happened… this just isn't good for business and we've got to let you go. Keith will escort you to clean out your locker. You are,of course, still welcome to shop with us-"

Denim scoffed, stood up, and marched from his office straight to the locker room. Keith was right behind her, and for once the security guard wasn't running his mouth. He was, however, practically under her feet. She tried to put some distance between them, but he picked up his pace, getting so close to her, she could feel his breath on her neck.

She stopped at her locker, opened it, and got her things out.

"You letting that thing touch you is wrong. You've got to know that. Its bestiality, is what it is. It's immoral and you'll burn in hell for it."

Denim spun around, thrusting her face in his. "Are you jealous, Keith? Hm? You worried that he's got something you don't?"

He bared his crooked teeth at her and in seconds his forearm came up across her neck. He shoved her hard into the lockers, and the padlocks dug into her healing ribs. She hissed as his fingers reached up around her throat and he started to squeeze. She smacked at his hands, while trying to get her knee up but he pressed his body against hers, his eyes wild.

"You're a dirty little whore," he spat in her face. He slid a hand between their bodies as she choked and gasped. He squeezed harder with one hand while reaching for her waistband with his other. Spots formed before her eyes, her lungs burning, pleading for oxygen.

Think, Denim. Think. Think.

She stopped smacking at his hands, even as she felt her arms going numb. Instead, she thrust the heel of her palm up under the bridge of his nose. Keith reeled, stumbling back, giving her the space she needed to kick him in his groin. She ran from the locker room gasping and coughing, her ribs throbbing.

She didn't stop until she was outside and two blocks away then ducked into an alley. She slid onto her butt, crying as she rubbed her neck, contemplating how, even without Mikey, the world was still caving in on her.

Now she had no job.

In just weeks, she'd met someone very special, been assaulted by a restaurant patron, attacked and molested by the police, screwed by both the courts and her mother, lost her daughter, was accosted by a security guard, and lost her job.

That was pretty much everything she had.

She stared at the wall across from her, all its cracks and imperfections, one brick built upon the other… graffiti covered, dirty, and old, but the foundation still strong.

She took a deep breath, cradled her ribs. What was her foundation made of? She'd been shipped from one foster home to another, met Kyle and found a kindred spirit, then got him killed, had his baby, and… Would she ever stop being a fuck up?

And what about Michelangelo, would she ever see him again? Could she possibly change his mind? Because she wanted to. She was more certain of that after all they'd been through. Yes. She missed him. She believed there was more for them, despite the hell the world was putting them through.

"Denim?"

She looked toward the sidewalk, saw Karai standing there.

"What are you doing?" Karai asked, her dark eyes sweeping the alley then settling back on her.

Denim lifted her head and Karai saw her neck.

"What the fuck?" she hissed, leaping forward and looking her over. "Who did this?"

Denim rubbed her face, felt a headache coming on. "I took care of it."

Karai snickered and Denim looked at her.

"What?" the Japanese woman raised her eyebrows and smirked. "Look, from what I hear, you went a few rounds with three cops, busted some asshole upside his head, and now we hear you were a damn sniper. You are just full of surprises, aren't ya?"

Karai sat down next to her and Denim thought the girl strange, so hot and cold, spicy and smart.

"I'm full of fuck ups," Denim grumbled. "What're you doing here?"

"I was on my way to the store. I was kind of looking for you. I thought we could do lunch. I, uh, might know someone that can help you get your daughter back."

Denim looked at the woman. "Why would you help me?"

Karai didn't hesitate. "You saved Michelangelo's life. And his brother loves him, and I love his brother. And… he's all right, I guess." She shrugged and Denim thought the woman cared more than she let on.

"Have you been in the Hamato family long?" Denim asked her.

Karai snorted. "Yeah. Well now that's a story for another day. But yeah. Hey," she looked at Denim, "have you even met Splinter yet?"

Denim stared at her. "Who?"

Karai nodded. "Oh yeah, you're long overdue. Come on, you're coming home with me."

XOXOXOX

Karai pointed to a chair at her small kitchen table. Apparently, she and Leo shared an apartment with the enormous rat sitting right in front of Denim.

"Leo's teaching at the dojo today, and I'm off, so it's just us. Right, Father?" Karai asked, placing a small pot of tea and three cups on the table.

Denim made a conscious effort to hold her mouth shut as she stared at the giant rat, trying to remember what Karai had said his name was, but so astounded by him, she drew a blank.

"Hmm, yes," the rat mused, sipping his tea and looking at Denim over the rim of his cup. "It is just us. My sons are away and my beloved daughter is spending the afternoon with her old father."

Karai let out a mischievous snicker. "It's not that bad. At least you finally get to meet Michelangelo's girlfriend."

The corners of the rats mouth tipped up, his human brown eyes shining. "Yes. I've heard so much about you, Denim, is it?"

Denim couldn't stop looking at him, at his pointed ears, his long snout, his nose, his pink clawed hands. "You are amazing."

The rat's ears perked. "Hmm. From what I hear, so are you."

Denim slumped in her chair. "Not really," she sighed. "In recent weeks I've broken the law, lost my daughter, and today I lost my job, and before that, I managed to get my husband killed on the battlefield. No, Sir," she looked in the rat's eyes, "I'm a walking disaster. Your son deserves so much better. He really does." Denim shifted in her seat then, moving to stand. It was true, Mikey deserved better and so did Alli. "My daughter deserves better too."

The rat raised a clawed hand and pointed to her chair. "Sit, please."

He said it with such authority that Denim sat in her chair without thinking about it.

"Michelangelo cares a great deal for you, and he is a tremendous judge of character." The rat cleared his throat, "Maybe more now than when he was a teenager, but he sees the best in others."

He looked Denim over. "His optimism is its own light, and in recent weeks he has told me of your light. He has said that you are a wonderful mother, raising your daughter alone, that you defended him, and now it's happened, not once, but twice. And the first time you did so, he was a stranger to you. Few humans would do that. That is commendable. That is courage. That is wisdom and strength. No, Ms. Sanders, we thank you." The rat reached out, placed a soft clawed paw over her hand and she felt warmth radiate from it. "Have patience, child. The old saying goes, we learn little from victory, but a great deal from defeat."

Denim's eyes widened. "I don't understand."

"Hmm," the rat mused. "Where do you think your destiny lies, Ms. Sanders?" The rat gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"To be honest-"

She had thought a lot about destiny. Her subconscious had been screaming something to her for a while but she'd brushed it away, again and again, only right then, as she sat at a small table with a mutant rat, she felt compelled to admit it to herself, and able to speak it out loud.

"I feel like all of this is my call to fight again. Like this has always been my fight. To stand up for my husband's fallen love who would never see justice, for him, even though I failed him, for Allison so she can be free to love whoever she wants… and for Michelangelo and everyone like him, because everyone deserves to be free to love and live without fear."

The corners of the rat's mouth tipped upward. "If you know this, what stops you?"

What stops you? Denim didn't have an answer for that.

Karai collected the cups and empty teapot. She went to the counter and came back with a slip of paper. "Here's the number for the guy I was telling you about. He's a social worker, his name is Casey Jones. We work with him… uh, at our nighttime job." She winked at Denim.

"Another vigilante?" Denim took the card, and felt like she had something of a plan forming on the edges of her mind. "Thank you," she said to Karai then looked to the rat again, "you never told me your name."

"Hamato Yoshi. You may call me Master Splinter," the rat motioned to Karai. "She should speak with Leonardo."

"Of course, Father." Karai nodded then looked at Denim. "Are you trained on anything other than a gun?"

Denim straightened in her chair, feeling protective of her weapon. "What does this family have against guns?"

Karai grinned. "Personally, nothing. But I think you'll find the brothers have their own preferences."

Denim crossed her arms. "I don't need to talk to Leo. Mikey isn't even speaking to me right now, so there's not much point. But I appreciate the help getting my daughter back."

Splinter stared at her. "Hmm, humor an old rat, and please speak with Leonardo." He motioned to Karai who nodded.

"We'll go right now, Father."

"Very good," the rat said with a gleam in his eye.