A/N: Hey everybody! It's been way too long since my last post! I've had a lot of RL things going on. Nothing bad, just...life lol. Plus I've been making some revisions to my notes for this story, so technically I have been working on it ;) I'm sure I've lost some followers due to my untimely posting, but it's all good. For those of you who stuck around and waited patiently, thank you. I do not take your support of my story lightly. Also, I see there are some new folks following this story...welcome! :D

Special shout out to Ravenshell for her awesome beta skills and to Lydjachan for not swatting me away when I need her senpai storytelling skills :)

Alright without further delay, here's the next chapter!

Chapter 33

It takes April and me a little longer to get to the lair this time. Leonardo met us at the manhole and guided us through a different route. Apparently, there were humans snooping in the sewers and he didn't want us to be seen. The blue-masked turtle doesn't offer any additional information, and the hard line across his brow tells me he doesn't plan to.

I don't know Leonardo incredibly well, but if his swift and rigid movements are any indicator, he seems a bit cross. April notices as well and makes an attempt at small talk.

"Leo, how's Donnie doing?"

"It's been more than two days. He's… managing." Leonardo doesn't break his gaze from the shadowy tunnel ahead of us. And there it is. Beneath the strained reservation is the real reason behind his snubbing behavior.

I told them two days. It's been two weeks.

It wasn't my intention to keep them in the dark for so long. I just didn't have any answers… not then. Even now the answers I have are dicey, no true guarantee that they will be a miracle cure for Donatello. I tighten my grip on the shoulder strap of my bag. I had to dig a lot deeper than I originally planned to procure the contents of this bag.

It's not long before we reach the lair and gather in Donatello's lab. It's an awkward conversation of small talk as I unpack supplies 'borrowed' from the college.

"Where is Donatello?" I ask, seeing as everyone is present except the one in question.

"He's probably still in his room. I'll go get him." Leonardo stops in his tracks at the sudden appearance of his missing brother.

"No need. I'm here and accounted for." He speaks softly and offers a grim smile as he shuffles into the room. Now I understand the anxiety in the air upon entering the Hamato home. Donatello looks terrible. His brown skin is dull and cracking in some areas, and his movements are lethargic as he nearly stumbles to sit at his desk. He hides his hands under the desk, but I still spot the small tremors that twitch across his limbs. Mr. Hamato, Leonardo, and Michelangelo form a tight space around Donatello, much closer than they were two weeks ago. This alone makes me feel that Donatello is receiving the family support that he needs and previous rifts are slowly coming together, though I am still unsure where Raphael fits into this family healing process. He seems even more distant than last time as he takes his post against the doorframe.

"Donatello, how are you doing?"

Raphael snorts at my question. "It's been two weeks, how the shell do you think—"

"Raphael, enough." The whip of Mr. Hamato's voice and a stern gaze are enough to silence the red-banded turtle, but not before he sneaks a glare in my direction.

"I'm… I'm fine, Mr. O'Neil."

"He is running a fever and complains of pains in his limbs," Mr. Hamato interjects, completely disregarding Donatello's false claim. "We had not heard from either of you. You must understand, under the circumstances, we were… concerned."

"I do understand, Mr. Hamato, and I sincerely apologize for not updating you sooner but in this instance no news was definitely good news… I think." Smoothing the front of my sweater vest, I decide now is as good a time as any to present my findings.

"Further observation of your blood samples proved to be quite insightful." Placing a sample of his blood under a microscope, I am able to connect it to Donatello's handcrafted projector for everyone to see. I point to one of the cells displayed on the wall behind me. "These are Donatello's cells from a frozen blood sample taken more than a year ago." I'm quite impressed with how resourceful Donatello is; what sixteen-year-old thinks to freeze blood samples for such a time as this? "You see the specks of green within each cell? That's mutagen. This is a normal cell structure I presume all of you had upon your initial mutation." Moving another glass plate under the scope, I show them a different sample. "This is Donatello's cells from two weeks ago." The mutagen in the cells are no longer mere specks but abnormal growths of varying sizes within each cell.

"As you can see the extensive exposure to mutagen radiation has caused the mutagen already present in his cells to grow at an alarming rate, breaking bonds and reconstructing them. Further analysis shows the cells are trying to evolve into a more reptilian DNA structure by rewriting his genetic code; however, the extra mutagen is also causing the cells to become unstable. Some of the cells are transforming—your arm being a noticeable example—while the other cells are… deteriorating. It's a bit of a tug-of-war in your body: to expire or evolve; to perish or preserve. At a cellular level it's quite a fascinating battle to watch and—"

"Dad…" April's harsh whisper pierces through my lecture mode as I take in the mixed expressions of the family before me; mostly fear and frustration though Donatello at least seems slightly interested in the science of my research.

"Right, sorry." With a sheepish smile, I turn to the young genius, knowing he will grasp my theory within seconds. "Donatello, you said you've tried to reverse the effects by re-engineering the mutagen, which consequently, further debilitated your health."

"That's… that's correct." He answers with a bit of reluctance, or maybe a bit of embarrassment at the irony of his predicament.

"Well, I don't think mutagen is the solution to your problem."

"But what else could it be? It's the basis of this mutation. It's only logical to start at the root, to manipulate the basic mutagen structure at a cellular level." He's sharp as a tack.

"I agree, the manipulation should be at a cellular level. However, I think manipulating the mutagen aspect will only further complicate things; your body is too susceptible to mutagen radiation to risk it. I propose manipulating another substance to react to the mutagen in your body."

"I'm listening…." He props his 'normal' hand under his chin.

"Perhaps we should look at this from a different perspective. If mutagen holds the properties of radioactive material, then maybe it should be treated as such."

He nods slowly, mulling over the suggestion as he wipes sweat from his brow. "How so?"

"Well, in cases of radioactive contamination in humans, there are certain drugs used to bind to the radiation within the body. The drugs act as a magnet, pulling radiation from the cells and decreasing the amount of time it takes radiation to exit the body as waste." I pull out a medicine bottle from the messenger bag Donatello loaned to me. "This is DTPA; a drug capable of binding to radioactive substances."

"Diethylenetriamine pentaacetate," Donatello blurts out the scientific name and immediately turns to his computer and starts typing single-handedly with more vigor than I've seen him display since he came into the lab. "DTPA only binds to plutonium, americium, and curium. I highly doubt it will work for an extraterrestrial chemical like mutagen."

"You're right; it won't work in its traditional state. Fortunately, after my alien abduction and temporary mutation, I made some…. acquaintances with some pretty knowledgeable geneticists and chemists."

That's the short version. I've learned more than I should have and walked away with expensive government-funded drugs when I shouldn't have. I suppress those thoughts to deal with at a later time.

"Relaying the chemical makeup of mutagen to them, they were able to manipulate this DTPA to react to mutagen radiation and specifically designed to bond with enough mutagen to revert your cells back to their original mutated state. I tested the drug on your blood sample and it works, though I did have to use an excessive amount to combat the radiation growths. So in theory, this mutagen-friendly DTPA can be injected intravenously. " Donatello nods with understanding and seems to appreciate my extra steps to ensure this idea will work.

"So, D's just gotta have this one shot and he's back to normal?"

"I'm afraid it's not quite that simple, Michelangelo." I offer the enthusiastic turtle my honesty with a kind smile. "The injection won't reverse the mutations that have already taken place, but it will prevent future mutations from happening; he'll need several injections to rid his body of the overdose of mutagen in his body."

"So his arm is permanent?" Leonardo's disappointment leaks through his countenance, while Donatello remains surprisingly calm.

"Yes, Leo, it's all permanent," Donatello confirms with a sense of detachment.

"In order for this to work, we'll need to start an aggressive cell treatment, injections three times a day."

Mr. Hamato gives a low sigh. "Why must so much of this drug be given? Are there no other supplements just as efficient?" He isn't too keen on man-made medicines I presume, but he must understand the severity of his son's situation.

"Unfortunately, the rate at which some of Donatello's cells are dying is equivalent to a patient suffering from stage-four cancer. The treatment would have been less aggressive if it were caught sooner. We can't get back the lost time but hopefully we can double our efforts before his mutations worsen. I would expect to see signs of improvement within the first two weeks. There is a chance that Donatello's mutation is too far along for the drug to have a noticeable effect." As hopeful as I am, I do not want to give the Hamato family false hope. There are always risks and probabilities to consider with any form of treatment.

"I see." Fatherly worry is evident on Mr. Hamato's face. I've seen it often enough in the reflection of my mirror. "What are the side effects of such a powerful drug?"

"Repeated dosages may cause nausea, vomiting, chills, fever, muscle cramps, light-headedness, chest pain, and a metallic taste in the mouth," Donatello jumps in, reading from his computer screen.

"It also has the tendency to deplete the body of natural minerals so supplements of zinc and magnesium will need to be implemented into your diet," I add as a final note.

Donatello sighs as he spins in his chair to face me once again. "Mr. O'Neil, the research and legwork you've done are invaluable…. I don't have words adequate enough…. to thank you for this." He's winded just from this small meeting and I can only assume his fever is spiking again as he wipes his hand over his bare head for the sixth time since I've been in here.

"It's the least I can do." And I mean that. This young humanoid turtle has saved lives countless times with his brothers. I wish he could be treated properly in a hospital like anyone else who was deathly ill, but he can't. So I will do what I can for him here.

"How soon will I be able to start the treatment?" he asks as he scratches a spot under his arm. A few brittle pieces of his shell crumble to the floor.

"Right now. And from the looks of things, not a moment later. I came prepared with two weeks' worth of treatments. It's really up to you at this point. April and I will step out to give you guys a chance to discuss everything."

"There's no need. I've made my decision." Donatello's announcement stops me in my tracks. He looks from his father to his brothers and back to his father again. There an exchange of non-verbal understanding before he turns to me. "Let's do it."

"Great, let's get you prepped." I release a breath of worry I didn't know I was holding. It was really the only logical decision to make. Deciding not to do anything would have inescapably led to Donatello's full mutation or his death. At least he has a chance of beating the radiation poisoning with this treatment.

April helps me set up an IV bag and vital sign monitor while Leonardo mothers over Donatello, ensuring his comfortability in a cushioned chair. Michelangelo talks idly to Donatello about good vibes in his middle toe, making the latter smile ever so slightly. Their father watches us all, paying a careful eye to what my hands are doing.

"What is in the other vial?" Correction, Mr. Hamato watches me with an extremely careful eye.

"Ah, it's an injection of adrenaline. Just for a worst case scenario of a cardiac arrest."

"Cardiac arrest…" Mr. Hamato repeats my words, the alarm clear in his tone as his ears flatten against his head.

"It's just a precaution, Master Splinter," Donatello assures him but it does little to keep the humanoid rat's furry brows from creasing into a slight frown. "Actually, my plastron may prevent the injection from being truly effective. There's a defibrillator on the cart over there…" He points to a white cart and I nod my thanks for his vital information. Splinter looks rather displeased at the suggestion. "It's just a precaution…" Donatello repeats with a half-confident smile to his father. During this whole set up, I seem to have lost track of Raphael. He's not in the lab anymore. I catch Donatello looking expectantly toward the door. Whatever disappointment was previously in his countenance is quickly masked with a tight smile. "I'm ready whenever you are, Mr. O'Neil." He holds the inside of his mutated arm out to me, ready for the injection.

"Donatello, it's important that you tell me if you feel any discomfort or pain."

"Understood."

"Here we go." I have to apply a bit of pressure against his callused scales to actually penetrate his heated skin. Slowly, I release the DTPA into his bloodstream. Removing the needle, I watch the young turtle carefully for signs of distress. "How are you feeling?" I ask as I scan the monitor for any spikes in his vital signs.

"Ah, just a bit of a stinging sensation in my extremities… small discomfort, nothing major." Within moments of saying this, he grimaces as his hands grip the arms of his chair. "Correction… stinging is now burning; small discomfort has intensified to pain… argh!" He's white-knuckling the chair now, eyes closed as he leans forward in anguish.

"Dad, his heart rate is going up!" I hear April shout from somewhere beside me, as I also glance at the vital monitor. Mr. Hamato is kneeled in front of his son in seconds.

"Donatello, remember your training. Breathe through the physical pain." His heart rate is steadily rising which makes me a bit doubtful of Mr. Hamato's 'way of the warrior' technique. Before I can step in with a light sedative, Donatello's heart rate gradually slows to a normal range. Maybe I judged Hamato's methods too soon.

"I'm okay now," Donatello reassures us between shaky breaths. "…Maybe a slow drip would be less… debilitating for future treatments."

"Yes… yes, absolutely," I agree and could kick myself for not considering that option. I didn't account for pain and other sentient responses when administering the treatment to his blood sample. "If you don't mind, Mr. Hamato, I would like to stay overnight just to make sure Donatello is tolerating the treatments over a twenty-four hour period."

"I would insist that you do, Mr. O'Neil. If you and April have not eaten I believe there is leftover takeout in the kitchen." April and Leonardo help Donatello to the kitchen, with Michelangelo already ahead of them announcing whatever leftovers are available. Alone with the patriarch, I turn to Mr. Hamato, adjusting the front of my sweater habitually.

"Mr. Hamato, I, uh..." I clear my throat of nervousness. "I need a few canisters of mutagen to... to recreate the drug."

"You did not need the mutagen before. Why is it needed now?" The questioning tone almost diminishes my resolve, but I square my shoulders and do what I do best—bombard him with science.

"Actually it is quite necessary. Before, I was only working with notes of the genetic makeup of mutagen. To have the physical chemical present would help to perfect the drug, possibly fill in a few gaps in my theory. It may help me find a way to reverse the mutations instead of merely stopping future ones within Donatello's cells."

He strokes his beard, considering my words, his ears perking at the mention of reverting Donatello back to his 'normal' mutated state.

"You of all people know how dangerous this mutagen is. And these 'colleagues' you are working with..." My hands flatten the invisible wrinkles in my sweater. "...Are they to be trusted with such a chemical? How much have you told them?"

He's asking questions I don't have honest answers for, and I am a terrible liar. "My colleagues have no idea you or your family exists." It is the only thing I can answer in all sincerity. "I have Donatello's best interest in mind. I wouldn't ask for the mutagen unless his recovery depended on it." It wasn't a lie. The mutagen is vital... just not in the way Mr. Hamato thinks it will be.

After a nerve-racking silence, I am rewarded with a slight nod. "You may take what you need. I am only conceding to this request for Donatello's sake. Do not make me regret this."

"Thank you." A wave of relief loosens the tight squeeze of my heart. I hope I don't regret this.

We all gather in the kitchen, pulling extra chairs to the table as necessary. The conversations are light and casual with topics ranging from the changing weather to upcoming holidays, but they slowly drift back to Donatello as his family concerns themselves with treatment schedules, eating habits, and making sure the purple-banded turtle is kept healthy and rested for the weeks ahead.

As my dad goes over side-effects and other health information, my eyes drift to Donatello. He hasn't said much since we all left the lab. He nods occasionally when he hears his name in the floating conversations, but his attention is more focused on pushing the ramen noodles around in his bowl.

Donnie pauses for a moment. He knows I'm staring. When he finally looks up, our eyes meet. I raise my brows in a silent 'Hi.'

His half smile says, 'Hey,' in return.

I frown as my eyes travel over his body, stopping at his arm before returning to his eyes. He immediately knows it's a wordless gesture asking, 'Are you okay?'

He gives me a fuller smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes to say, 'I'm fine.' I return his fake smile with questioning eyes, but he averts his gaze to his bowl of ramen and twirls a few strings of noodles around his fork. With a small sigh I return to my meal. I remind myself I'll have plenty of time to talk to Donnie, but I can't ignore the need to talk to him now, just the two of us.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts when a prominent whistle pierces the table conversations. Looking back at Donatello, I tilt my head with a small smirk. His head is dipped forward, chin touching the top of his plastron. He was out like a light with a small whistle of breath flowing through his gapped teeth.

"I suppose we should all take a cue from Donatello," Master Splinter speaks warmly as he looks at his sleeping son. "Raphael, Michelangelo. Please prepare the den area for Mr. O'Neil and April. Leonardo, see to it that Donatello is settled comfortably in his room."

"We'll need to transfer some of the monitoring equipment from the lab to his room to keep an eye on his vitals and to have quicker access to medical equipment… if needed."

"I'll help," I volunteer as I stand up from the table. Master Splinter nods in agreeance before giving further directions to the guys.

"Come on, Donnie. Let's get you to bed," Leonardo says, rousing his brother from his slumber. Donatello complies, too exhausted to put up an effort to argue. Michelangelo quickly claimed his shift to sit with Donatello tonight. I try not to pout as Donnie is taken out of my sight and I help my dad move the vital monitors from the lab.

I listen to the airy breaths of my father as he sleep on couch. Master Splinter and the guys gave us pillows and a couple of blankets for our overnight stay in the den. I sigh as my eyes drift to Donatello's bedroom door. After falling asleep at dinner, his family ushered him to bed. Donnie and I haven't really talked since his big announcement. I wanted to call or text him, but Dad insisted that I wait until he found a workable solution for Donnie's mutation. There's so much I want to ask and tell him; so much I still need to figure out about... us. Glancing at my sleeping father again, I ease myself from the floor with practiced stealth. My breathing slows as I take muted steps past Leo, Raph, and Mikey's rooms. Standing at Donnie's door, I hold my breath almost expecting to be discovered and sent back to the den, but I'm not and I mentally give myself a pat on the back for my excellent ninja skills.

I slide my body through the slightly open door and breathe out with relief at not being caught.

"April?" My heart skips at the soft whisper of my name as I face the bed with a small smile.

"You're still awake. I was afraid you would be asleep." I smile in the shadows of his room. When he clicks his lamp on, it takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the dark. My smile softens at the bundle of 'Mikey' curled against Donnie's side. He pushes himself into a sitting position, not too concerned about waking his younger brother. I've seen Mikey sleep through some pretty intense things so a little bed shuffling doesn't faze him.

"I couldn't sleep."

Arching my brow at the yawn he hides behind his hand. "Looks more like fighting sleep to me." Mikey mumbles something about jellybean pizzas before flopping onto his carapace into a deeper sleep. I snicker at the younger turtle's slumbering antics.

"He was supposed to keep me company." Donnie gives a half grin as he wiggles his arm out of Mikey's loose grip. "Good company's hard to find," he jokes, giving me this longing look. I immediately take it as an invitation and quietly shuffle his desk chair beside the bed, trying not to disturb the heart monitoring equipment there. A quick glance at its numbers is enough to ease some of my worry when they all appear to be in normal ranges.

"I'm sorry for not calling, my dad—"

"It's okay." He doesn't even let me explain. "You're here now," he smiles and I smile back, trying not to blink because if I do I'm certain tears will fall. I can feel his doubt and a tinge of resignation, wondering if these thoughts are why he can't sleep. "I'm fine. Really." I sigh at his rehearsed words as I take a seat. His lack of sleep reflects strongly in his burgundy eyes. "I think my fever's gone and I don't ache anymore so I guess that's a good sign." He smiles to reassure me. "I'm alright, April."

"You're a horrible liar." He chuckles as I call him out. "Seriously, I just wanted to make sure you were okay…. really okay." I give him my 'don't lie to me' look. He nods in all seriousness with a long sigh.

"Honestly, it's… it's a lot to process. I mean, the principal and theory behind your dad's research is plausible, but with mutagen there are so many variables unaccounted for that I'm—"

"Doubtful?" I fill in the blanks of his stray thoughts. I bite my tongue against the self-blame and shame also floating through his mind. Don't pry to deep, April. He'll tell you when he's ready.

"Yes." His voice melts into a whisper at the admission. "This could end really badly. I don't want anyone hurt because of me."

"You know, a positive attitude is half the battle won." I manage to get a more sincere smile out of him with my words of encouragement, but it slowly falters as he speaks.

"April, that night at the animal clinic I said some things I didn't mean."

"You said a lot of things that night, so you'll have to be a little more specific." I look down at my hands. My voice thickens as words from that night flood my memory. "You said I was brilliant…." My lips twitch into a small smile as I tease him casually. I feel successful in lightening the mood when his eyes light up in alarm and he holds his palms up apologetically. Mikey's expresses his disapproval of the sudden jerky movements in the bed as he whines and rolls closer to Donnie's side.

"You are!" his voice squeaks just above a whisper. "That's not what I meant! Not what I meant at all!" He shakes his head vigorously.

"You also said you didn't love me," I continue to test the waters.

"I… I didn't mean that." Suddenly, he finds the thick scales on his newly mutated hand more interesting than my face.

"Well, what did you mean?" I ask, encouraging him to verbalize the sentiment his mind is practically screaming out loud in my head.

"I meant…." Always the thinker, the articulator, he pauses to gather his words. "…to protect you from this." Exasperated, he holds his enlarged limb out to me like it is something of utter disgust.

"This," I sandwich his larger double-mutated hand between my own, "doesn't change anything between us."

"There was an us? ...I mean, there is an us?" The hopefulness in his voice is both sweet and heartbreaking.

"Of course there's an us. There will always be an us," I reassure him as I rub my hand along the callused and deep ridges of his arm. Carefully leaning over his sleeping younger brother, I take either side of his face into my hands giving him a soft kiss on the lips. His fever may be gone, but I can't help but feel the sudden flush of warmth as my hands hold his sweet face.

At that moment, Mikey's mouth opens releasing a bear-sized snore. I put my hands over my mouth, smothering the giggle on my lips. Donnie sighs, shaking his head as he rolls Mikey onto his side facing me, putting an end to the obnoxious snoring.

"I'm glad... I'm glad there's an us." His shy smile warms my heart and for a moment I'm lost in those dark burgundy eyes.

"Yeah, me too." I return his smile and for the next hour we idly talk, avoiding the topic of his current mutation. I'll stay until he finally loses his battle with sleep, but for now I take comfort in the fact that Donnie is here with me smiling, talking…. breathing.

Blowing out a puff of cold air, I wait outside of what was once was a TCRI facility on the outskirts of the city. I shudder at the thought of anything associated with those malicious aliens who held me captive. This choice of location is giving me second thoughts. This was a bad idea. Couldn't we have met at a coffee shop? I rub my hands together to stave off some of the cold in this late night autumn weather. Pulling the flaps of my trapper cap further over my ears, I adjust the duffle bag on my shoulder. No one knows I'm here. April thinks I'm teaching an evening class at the college and as far as the college is concerned, I've taken sick leave. This was a bad idea...

Before my better sense can convince me to get in my car and leave, another car pulls up. I relax a little when I recognize the car of my college coworker, Gary. He's my connection to this deeper world of conspiracy theories, alien chemicals, and other paranormal activities that the rest of the world is oblivious to. Our conversations were once an awkward dance of paranoid interactions, but one slip-up of leaving an open file on my office computer changed everything. Before I could stutter my way through an explanation for the seemingly crazy notes on the screen, he said: "You saw them, too?" The rest was history.

Gary worked for the Center for Disease and Control before hiding away as a chemistry instructor at the college. He said he'd been a part of grant-funded projects that would make any sci-fi fanatic wet his pants. He still has friends in the system, friends who smuggled Donatello's drugs, but not without a price.

"Hey."

"Hey... do you have it?" Gary gets straight to the point as he stands in front of me in faded jeans and hooded jacket, the hood pulled snuggly over his head, covering his otherwise bald head. His paranoia is a bit unnerving as he constantly looks over his shoulder.

"Yes, it's here." I motion to the bag at my side. "Three canisters."

"That's all?"

"It's... all I have." Mr. Hamato was reluctant to relinquish these to me the other night; I highly doubt he would have agreed to giving me more. "Do you have the DTPA?"

"Yeah, right here." He exchanges his briefcase for my duffel bag.

"These people you're giving the mutagen to... what exactly are they doing with it?"

"We have a 'don't ask, don't tell' agreement: I don't ask, and I don't tell."

"That stuff is dangerous, you know. It shouldn't be in the wrong hands."

"Neither should the drugs I just gave you."

"It's saving someone's life."

"They tell me this," Gary hold up my duffle bag, "will save lives as well." I nod with uncertainty. Donatello used mutagen as a basis to revert my mutation. Who's to say the same can't be done for other forms of human genetic mutations, like cancer? Gary's a decent guy who tries to accommodate people under the radar who the rest of world deem forsaken due to social status or something equally as absurd. I can only hope the people he's working with hold the same moral principles. Even if they don't, what choice do I have? Donatello's life is at stake. He doesn't stand a fighting chance without the treatments.

"I'll need your help again to recreate the treatment." I don't like involving Gary in this, not when he's just a question away from knowing who I really need this for. But he's the brain behind this cocktail drug; I'll need to make better notations so I can do this myself. The less he knows the better.

"Yeah, sure. You know, the blood sample you gave me last time was pretty unique. Never seen anything quite like it." My hand tightens around the latch of my car door. "Hey, no worries, Kirby. Don't ask, don't tell, right?"

"Right."

"Come by my place tomorrow, we'll work from my basement. I, ah, I hope that first batch works for your friend's kid... hope he's getting better."

Sighing with relief, I slide into my car, thankful the transaction is over, but can't seem to quiet the small buzz of worry in the back of my mind.

TBC

A/N: Again, thank you all for hanging in there with me. You have my word this story is far from being abandoned. Just keep in mind that I do this for fun, but sometimes real life pulls me away and I have less time to work on it. Here is a little sneak-peek of the next chapter:

"Dude, I could totally go for chocolate-stuffed crust pizza right about now."

"Oh my god….seriously... Seriously?! Are you trying to tick me off?"

"Look, I don't need your apologies. Matter of fact, why don't I do you a favor and get the shell outta here."

Yes, these are indeed random quotes from the next chapter! Good luck figuring out the context of them :-P

As always, please leave a review. I really do love hearing from you guys.

See you next chapter!

Poetique