A/N: Greetings! Sorry this took so long, but things have been rather hectic in this soap-opera-reminicent drama that is my life.

Right! Thankages!

Thalponene - she is very mean, I don't know why. She just arrived like that in my brain like that, fully formed and ready for... evil! Bwa ha ha ha ha ha h- ahem sorry.

Pacphys - it's a cunning hiding place, right in plain sight where NO ONE IS LOOKING. And where oh where am I going with this? I'm not going to tell oh tell you.

Jigsaws231 - look, I'm blushing and all.

And now, we return to the story. When we last left out heroes...

"The Shredder found me wandering the streets some time ago and captured me. He thought that by testing me he could find your weaknesses," I tell them, repeating the story I had decided would be the most plausible.

"You have no idea how great it is to be away from him, only…" I break off, making sure to look uncertain.

"Only what?" Raphael asks, one eye ridge raised. He seems slightly wary. I suppose it is only natural for him to be suspicious, but I will have to make sure I get into his favour – and soon.

"Only now I have nowhere to go – I don't know anyone who could shelter me." I turn to Michelangelo, silently pleading the fates that he will ask the question that my entire plan now hangs on.

"So why don't you come and stay with us?"

Perfect. Just one step closer to my goal.

"Could I?" I turn now to look at Raphael. He has not said much so far, but I am reasonably confident he will not refuse me this request.

"We'll go ask Splinter. See what he thinks." His voice comes out softer than it did before. Already he is beginning to pity the helpless weakling that I appear to be.

I stand at the entrance to their 'lair', having been told to wait there. Waiting for my master's oldest enemy. The thought almost makes me laugh.

After what seems like an eternity, they reappear, leading the old rat. The cause of all my problems.

"This is Splinter. Sensei this is uh…" Michelangelo pauses and grins sheepishly. "I forgot to ask what your name is babe."

"It's Adara." I reply, looking down so as to appear shy and utilising all my training to resist my impulses to strike him down then and there for calling me 'babe'.

"My sons have informed me of your situation and it would be a pleasure to have you in out home," the old rat says, smiling kindly.

"Thank you," I reply – but somehow I doubt that it will be such a 'pleasure' when all his precious sons are dead and he is being dragged in front of the Shredder for his well-deserved punishment.

"Then I propose a grand tour! I bags tour guide!" Michelangelo cries.

"Not just yet Mike," Donatello says, interrupting him. "I have to fix up that cut on her arm first."

"Aw nuts," he sighs, defeated.

Quite frankly I'm relieved. That Michelangelo is beginning to annoy me and I don't really want to spend any more time with him than I have to. Donatello leads me to a small compartment inside – it turns out that they are living in a disused subway station. This room is full of various medical implements.

Here he quickly and professionally bandages up my arm, telling me all the things that are usually common sense – not to remove the bandages or get them wet – things that only a child wouldn't know.

After enduring that boring and pointless lecture I am finally left with my thoughts and a couch on which to sleep.

Even with all my careful planning, I could never have guessed just how gullible these fools are. One would think that anyone with their sort of life – barely surviving, constantly hunted – would trust in no one; yet they barely know me and have allowed me into their home.

Why would they do that?

It is with that question troubling my thoughts that I drift slowly off to sleep.

"Wakey wakey!"

I jolt awake, and completely by instinct leap up and seize this intruder around the neck, intending to snap his insolent neck.

And I almost do. That is, until I remember where I am and the mission I must complete. It would not look good if I broke Michelangelo's neck right there in front of his family.

I hurriedly release him and he and the rest of them all stare at me in shock.

"That's one heck of a grip you got there babe," he says shakily, rubbing his neck.

Then shock begins to give way to suspicion. At least, it does in one of them.

"Why the hell did you do that!" Raphael exclaims.

"Oh, I uh…" I stammer, completely at a loss for words for once, cursing my own incompetence. I need to think fast. "It's just that sleep is never exactly… restful when you're Shredder's prisoner." That sounds plausible, but will they accept it?

"Ooh if I ever get my hands on that guy…" Michelangelo breaks off here and makes various violent gestures.

I note that all the others are gazing at me with great sadness and pity on their faces – all except Raphael whose eyes are still narrowed in disbelief. It seems as if he did not quite believe my excuse. I will have to work on him later.

"Come, it is time for breakfast," the old rat says, leading the way to the kitchen.

I follow behind them all, silently cursing myself for the mistake I have made. Now one of my advantages is gone.

This plan is still feasible, but I will have to be extremely careful from now on.