Sunlight poured through the trees, staining the ground in mottled shades of green. The air was filled with cricket song and the sweet smell of fresh-cut timber. Not far off, a soft, rhythmic lapping whispered a promise of Spring. Though they were thousands of miles downstream from any snow melt, the warm season would see the river swelling to the very edges of the small levee. Then, the burbling sound of the stream would grow to a roar.

Aubrey stared into a sky so bright that it seemed white, and fiddled with the piece of sweetgrass in her teeth. The breeze was still cool and chills crept across her skin even as the evening sun warmed her. A pale mist floated across the pasture like fingers ghosting over the pages of a long-forgotten book.

Her eyes drifted shut as she relished the moment.

She had missed this - the sounds of the earth slowly coming awake after months of sleep, the full range of the sky, and the rustle of leaves in the wind. As much as she enjoyed the constant change and life of the city, there was something about her countryside home that resonated deep within her. Like a part of her soul had been missing.

"Aubrey?"

She jumped and spun around to face the sudden voice. A woman stood beneath the giant live oak that shaded the back corner of their home. She had a willowy form with skin as pale and translucent as china. The hem of her sundress danced in the wind. She looked so much younger than Aubrey remembered.

But then, she had died when Aubrey was ten.

"Hey mama," she smiled.

Her mother stepped forward, concern creasing her brow. For a moment, Aubrey caught a flash of her in the hospital - head wrapped in a worn blue scarf, skin crumpling like the crust of a day-old croissant. But then, the phantom was gone and her mother stood again, face flushed with youthful beauty and her hair falling in wild red curls to her shoulders.

"Honey, what are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here yet." There was a hollow, echoing quality to her voice, as if she were speaking from the other end of a long tunnel.

Aubrey tried to remember why she had come home. Where had she been before? Phil's portly face flashed across her mind, a sheen of sweat coating his brow as he panicked about the missing supplies from the night's order. She thought of Mrs. Sinclair, who had knitted her a hat and scarf as a gift for her first New York Winter.

"It's always better to dress in extra layers, dear," she'd said, her gray eyes crinkling into a warm smile.

Without warning, the smile twisted in agony as her arm was wrenched from the socket. A gold mask with a grimace like Tragedy. Flashes of green and red - scarlet blooming across her shoulder like the carnations at a funeral.

A searing pain lanced her shoulder, as if she'd been stabbed with a poker. Her breaths came in gurgling gasps. She could feel piercing metal, and hands grasping her with fierce pressure. A doleful voice reached out through the dark. She felt like she was drowning.

Soft, cool hands cupped her face, almost burning against her fevered cheeks.

"Aubrey look at me." Her mother was crouched before her, eyes penetrating and serious.

"I think I died," Aubrey gasped as the pain ripped through her again.

"Shh... Baby, listen to me. You have to leave. You're not supposed to be here yet." Her mother's voice was hurried and quiet, as if she were afraid to be heard.

She continued as Aubrey stared at her, uncomprehending. "You have to go back to the other side of the river, before the water gets too high. If you don't, you'll be stuck here." With a force she hadn't possessed in life, she wrenched her daughter to her feet and pushed her across the field, towards the gurgling stream.

Aubrey stumbled forward, nearly sinking as the soft earth around her turned swampy and the lingering fog began to thicken. Far away, there was a sound like the howling of a gale. She turned back to look for her mother.

She was standing beneath the oak again, waving at her frantically, pushing her on.

"But-"

Her mother voice sounded as if it came from beside her.

"Go quickly, Aubrey. I'll be here waiting until it's your time. But you have to go - now!"

Aubrey nodded mutely and felt, more than saw, her mother smile. She faced forward and started toward the river at a run, her legs beating the familiar path, even as her feet sunk into the reedy muck.

The river suddenly roared to life. Aubrey's stomach rose to her throat as she cast a glance upstream. A wall of water raced down the narrow ravine towards her. The edges of the waves lifted and jumped forward, dragging against the levee like a thousand hands digging into the soft soil of the banks. She surged forward, and the marsh seemed to clutch at her ankles, pulling her down. She scrabbled up the breakwater and in one swift move launched herself across to the other embankment. As she landed, the river crashed down and then suddenly settled into eerie quiet, lapping calmly at the edges of the levee once again.

When she turned to face the river, her mother was standing on the other side, smiling sadly.

"Go, sweetheart."

"I'll see you soon, maman."

Her mother only continued to smile. "Not too soon. Je t'aime, ma petite."

"Je t'aime bien, maman."

"I think she's waking up..."

"Give her room to breathe!"

"It might be a good idea if you guys just left for now..."

Aubrey woke to feeling like her eyes had been stitched shut. There was an enormous weight on her chest and a line of fire ran across the edge of her shoulder blade like a hook-shaped brand.

She tried to roll to her side and tip off whatever was holding her down but was swept by a wave of pain so intense, she thought she might vomit. The noise she made was like a whining groan, low and rasping against her throat. It felt as if she'd been breathing sand.

Cool hands pressed her back and Aubrey wrenched her eyes open. She found herself surrounded by a silky blaze.

Maman?

"Hey now, don't get up. We gotchya. You're safe." The voice sounded like it came from underwater, but it most certainly was not her mother. Her heart thumped like an 808 in her ears.

A flurry of questions buffeted her mind, but when she tried to speak, there was pain and a taste like hot pennies in her mouth.

The soft, muted voice came again. "Can she have water?" There was a response from somewhere past the fall of auburn hair, but it may as well have been from beyond a waterfall. The world was tipping and roaring too much to make sense of anything.

I'm dead.

No. Death shouldn't feel like this.

Right?

"No, you're not dead..." There was something like laughter in the tone and Aubrey got the sense that whoever was talking and hiding behind the mane of red was probably a kind person. And a mind-reader.

A giggle.

"You got yourself a funny one here, Don."

A gruff response that sounded vaguely like "...not mine."

And then there was something cool spilling across her lips and down her throat, like ice quenching the fire and washing away the taste of molten metal. Too bad it did nothing for the conflagration decimating her arm and chest. She coughed and the sensation exploded, taking her vision with it for a moment before it all faded back into darkness.

When she came to again, it was to a sound like thunder, deep and furious, rolling over the room.

"-seen by no less than six individuals, were caught on camera in full light, destroyed a business, and then brought one of the hostages home with you?!"

There was shuffling and the creak of leather. A small, hesitant voice emerged from the dark.

"But Master-"

The sound of something heavy slamming against stone. "NO! What you have done is beyond the scope of irresponsibility! You have-"

More shuffling and heavy footsteps. "Master!"

"You dare to-"

"Master, she was dead!"

Somewhere in the distance, there was the steady drip-drip of water trickling into a puddle. Far overhead, she could hear the roar of traffic and the bells of street cars. Even with all the distant commotion, her breathing sounded loud in the sudden silence of the room.

The response was harsh and demanding. "What?"

A moment of silence and the quiet voice emerged again.

"She was dead, Master Splinter. As in no heartbeat. No breath. No life. And then Raph-"

There was a sound like a whip cutting the air and a clatter as something heavy fell.

"It's not Raph's fault! I told him that she would die without blood so he... gave her... some blood?"

The last part was murmured, as if uncertainty had stunted the words. Aubrey listened attentively as the people in the room talked about her, as if she was a plant standing in the corner and not a person lying passed out nearby. She kept her eyes closed and her breathing as even as possible.

"April," the harsh voice had turned solemn and patronly, "it appears that our guest requires assistance. Donatello," the edge returned, "you will explain in full."

There was no sound. Just a feeling like the air parting around her and a sudden sense of emptiness. Aubrey cracked her eyes open and met the grinning face of a redhead in a yellow canvas jacket. The colors were bright and glaring against her sensitive eyes, but the girl looked so friendly, she couldn't help but return a weak smile.

Well at least she tried. About the time she parted her lips, the brittle skin cracked and the taste of copper filled her mouth again.

"Oh! Wait there, don't move!" The girl scrambled away and disappeared behind a broken concrete divider.

Aubrey took the opportunity to observe her surroundings. Though her vision was blurry, she could see a giant television screen with an entertainment center that looked like it had been pieced together by Doctor Frankenstein. Its parts came from at least three different systems made of coated pressboard in a diverse arrangement of colors. It held a newer-looking DVD player and piles of movies that made Pisa seem like an ancient achievement in uprightness. On either side of the television were plush, comfortable-looking bean bags, which had been worn soft and patched over time. However, they looked like they were designed to seat two or three people each, and she wondered briefly how many people had been in the room before.

The young woman emerged from behind a concrete wall with a plain white mug in hand. She crouched down, her jeans squeaking as they rubbed against the pile of well-worn cardboard that Aubrey was lying on. She held the mug to the injured girl's lips.

"Here, drink it slowly."

Aubrey's right arm had been laid across her torso, on top of a lumpy, corduroy pillow the color of old leaves. When she tried to lift her hand to steady the cup, a spasm radiated across her chest and she gasped, nearly choking on the water.

Every cough sent throbbing jolts through her shoulder. The redhead slid an arm beneath her and lifted her slightly. The movement was excruciating, but the change of position allowed Aubrey to steady her breathing enough to stop coughing. The pain didn't subside.

"Maybe we should not try moving on our own, huh?"

Aubrey couldn't help the hint of vexation at the girl's laughing tone, but withheld the overly-acidic reply lingering on the tip of her tongue in favor not moving any more than necessary.

"I'm April, by the way. I'd shake your hand but I'm afraid that would do more harm than good."

"Aubrey," she managed to croak.

"You're lucky to be alive, Aubrey. It's a good thing the boys got to you when they did." April gave her with a grim smile. Her eyes were dark as a coming storm.

"What happened?"

April made a distressed noise in the back of her throat. "Do you remember anything?"

Aubrey shook her head slightly and immediately regretted it as heat suffused her shoulder and neck. "Not much," she wheezed. "There were a bunch of guys in masks -"

"The Foot Clan," April supplied.

Aubrey frowned. She had only heard a little about the group of gangsters since she'd arrived in the city. But from what she understood, they tended toward larger-scale attacks on cargo freighters and banks. They didn't seem like the corner-store robbery type.

She continued anyway. "One of them came back and attacked one of our patients." Mrs. Sinclair's bruised face flashed across her mind's eye followed by the sickening crunch of broken bones. Aubrey felt nauseous. April only nodded.

"Then these guys showed up. Looking like some kind of crazy samurai from an anime convention." April's mouth quirked, as if she were trying to smother a smile. Aubrey only raised an eyebrow.

"They were arguing - I mouthed off at the masked asshat," April outright giggled at that. "And then he shot me."

Like a light switching off in a house, April expression turned grave. Aubrey turned her gaze on the redhead, seeing again the vague similarity to her own mother. But the differences were more outstanding. April's hair fell in a soft wave and was a brighter, more vivid red than her mother's had ever been. Her skin had the slight bronze cast of someone who enjoyed the sun, where her mother had always been a delicate petal pink. April was healthier, younger, and more vibrant, with a gleam of intelligent humor in her eye.

Aubrey liked her already.

Her thoughts turned back to her dream of her mother. The riverside by their old farmhouse - the same one that had burned down less than a year before, taking the oak with it in the blaze.

Was it a dream?

"April?" she hesitated.

"Hmm?"

Aubrey swallowed around the rock that formed in her throat.

"Was I dead?"

April rolled back on her heels and looked away stiffly.

"I don't know. We'll have to ask the boys what happened when they get back."

Aubrey groaned and shifted to sit more fully upright against the arm of what she now realized was a couch made from pizza boxes. As she turned her face toward the cardboard, she caught the faint, lingering smell of Italian spices.

April helped the best she could, sliding another shabby pillow underneath her back for support.

"Where are they?" Aubrey queried.

April stood. "Just in the other room, I think. I can go check for you," she offered.

Aubrey knit her brows together in confusion. The memories after being shot were incoherent. Flashes of brown and green, worried eyes, soft purple fabric grazing her cheek, two men bickering, biting cold inside her chest, someone asking her questions, shouting and then darkness.

I died, she thought.

So how am I alive?

April was staring at her. Her eyes searched the brunette's face, as if trying to read her thoughts from her expression alone. April's focus was snatched away, suddenly, as a shadow shifted across the couch.

"She's completely conscious this time," April murmured.

"Thank you, April. We will take it from here." The voice was soft, but commanding. Aubrey recognized it from before, when he'd been shouting. April nodded and with a final encouraging smile, turned on her heel and left the room.

"It is good to see you awake." The voice was soft and carried an accent reminiscent of the far East. It made her think of cherry blossoms and steaming mugs of tea.

The speaker stood behind Aubrey's head, where she couldn't turn to see him.

"Why are you standing back there?"

The man hummed in response. Aubrey was reminded of when her late grandfather would make non-committal noises to fill the space between thoughts when he didn't want them interrupting him. She held her tongue.

He finally spoke. "I am sorry for the secrecy, my child. My sons and I are..." he seemed to struggle for a moment.

Another voice, further away supplied, "Different." There was a bitter edge to the word.

Aubrey huffed, "Well aren't we all?"

There was a faint snicker from off to her left, beyond the back of the couch. Aubrey tried to cast a surreptitious glance over the cardboard and saw only a table lit by a dim, overhanging light.

Suddenly, the voice sighed and Aubrey swore she could feel the breath gust across the top of her head. She cast her eyes up and saw grizzled brown hair.

An old man?

"Perhaps we strain the definition of the word. We are unique among the creatures of this earth," he paused. "And we do not want to frighten you."

Aubrey closed her eyes and thought over his choice in words. Her mouth twisted in a wry smile.

"You could be peg-legged lepers from outer space, for all I care. You saved my life, and I would rather thank you to your face than from behind furniture made from Papa John's leftovers," she paused for a moment.

"As impressive as said furniture is..." she added.

There was a long moment of silence and Aubrey couldn't shake the feeling that there was a noiseless conference going on behind her. She kept her eyes closed and listened to the sound of her own breathing. She tried to imagine the pain in her arm drifting away like sea foam on an imaginary tide.

Finally, the speaker sighed again, breaking her meditation, and murmured, "Very well."

There was a thump and the sound of leather dragging across stone. When she opened her eyes, she was staring into the somber gaze of a gigantic rat dressed in meticulously arranged gray robes. He stood upright, with shoulders squared and feet slightly parted, as if he were waiting in parade rest at a military lineup. His fur was a light, nutty brown shot through white. Long whiskers quivered in time to the twitching of a broad, pink nose.

Aubrey held her breath. A hundred possibilities had run through her head over what her saviors may have looked like. A human-sized rat was not among them. She'd heard all kinds of crazy stories before coming to the city, about ghosts haunting schools and monster alligators attacking people from the sewers. She felt a hysterical bubble building in her chest.

They got their animals wrong - he's not even a reptile!

Then, as if the ghost of her dream were emerging into the waking world, her mother's voice rang through her head.

"Where are your manners, young lady?"

Her breath came out in an audible whoosh. "My name is Aubrey LaRille. It's a pleasure to meet you."

The rat seemed genuinely surprised by her response, though he dipped his head in a shallow bow.

"I am Splinter. It is a pleasure, Miss LaRille." He stood straight again and looked past her, beyond the back of the couch, to where she'd heard laughter before.

"I would like to introduce you to my sons. Leonardo..."

She had followed his gaze in an attempt to see whoever was standing beyond her vision, but when she turned back, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she was greeted by the almost hostile gaze of a six-and-a-half-foot tall, muscle-bound turtle.

At least, that's what Aubrey thought he was. The only real indicator was the shell attached to his back. For the most part, he just looked like a body builder with olive green skin. If it weren't for the smatterings of dark green and brown scales, the slitted nostrils, and the smoothness of his head and face, he would have just looked like a man in costume. Most of his face, however, was covered in a tattered blue mask.

He bowed quickly and stepped back.

Splinter continued with a wave of his hand.

"Michelangelo..."

With a sudden yip and an extravagant front-flip, another turtle launched himself over the couch, startling Aubrey into jumping. A hiss of pain whistled through her teeth, but she watched as he landed in a near silent crouch.

"Sup, baby cakes! Didn't mean to scare ya! You can call me Mikey - all the ladies do." He winked at her beyond an orange bandana, and Aubrey felt the growing apprehension escape her in a bubble of laughter. Michelangelo seemed quite pleased with himself and flopped back onto one of the bean bags, nearly taking it up completely.

Splinter heaved a long-suffering sigh.

"And you have already met my other two sons."

Two more muscle-bound behemoths walked around the edge of the couch. The tallest and brawniest of the bunch stomped up to his blue-clad brother's side, rolling a toothpick in his mouth. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back on his heels. It was only then that Aubrey noticed that they only had two toes on each foot. He glared at her, though Aubrey got the distinct impression that he glared at everyone.

The other was tall as well, but of a leaner build. He shuffled up to stand on the opposite side of Splinter and seemed to look everywhere but at her.

"Raphael and Donatello," she murmured.

Raphael pulled his head back as if dodging a punch before nodding curtly. "Good to see ya breathin', kid."

Donatello, however, looked alarmed. "S-so you do remember us..."

It didn't escape Aubrey's notice that Splinter was watching them carefully. For what, she wasn't sure, but it only added to the growing itch of discomfort creeping beneath her skin.

"You two performed triage on me. You were there when I... died." while she was sure of it, she felt like she needed a confirmation. Donatello swallowed audibly and shuffled his feet. He wouldn't look at her again.

"Huh-" Raphael huffed. "S'more Donnie than me. Alls I did is give ya some blood." He turned his palms out toward her then, and she saw the puffed purple welts of slash wounds healing over. Even so, they looked like they were days old at least.

"How long have I been out?"

Leonardo supplied an answer, "A little less than two hours. We've barely had the time to get you here and get your wounds cleaned."

Aubrey glanced down at herself. It was only then that she noticed that her shirt was completely gone, replaced by stark white bandages. Beneath the gauze, she could feel that her bra was missing as well. She let out a squeak of shock.

Aubrey was mortified. She looked up at them sharply, unable to keep the accusation from her face. Her skin burned from her chest to her roots.

The whole group of them took a sudden step back, as if startled by her rapid change in demeanor.

Mikey seemed to be the only one to understand. He bolted upright in his beanbag and waved his three-fingered hands in a placating manner.

"Nah, babe! It wasn't like that. April changed you - we didn't see anything!"

The hysteria was building again. She tried to calm herself but she could feel her breaths coming in short pants. This was too much. Giants rats and turtles fighting gang members in the streets of New York City? Saving her life, then taking her to some underground lair?

And I died, her mind supplied again. I DIED.

The room started fading at the edges.

"April!" Leonardo called out, "You might wanna come back in here!"

The redhead's face popped back around the corner. The moment she saw Aubrey, she shot out from behind the wall, thrusting a tray of steaming mugs into Raphael's hands as she went. He hissed as the contents of one of the cups sloshed over his arm.

She glanced back apologetically. "Sorry, Raph." Then turned to the girl who was quickly descending into a full-blown panic attack.

"Hey! Hey now, Aubrey look at me."

Hazel eyes met warm brown and April smiled.

"It's gonna be okay. We know it's been a crazy day, but you're safe here. No one can hurt you," she soothed, brushing back the tangle of brown curls from Aubrey's face. "It's gonna be alright," she repeated.

April looked over her shoulder at the five hovering awkwardly.

"Guys, can you give us a minute?" They nodded, and in a blink, they were all gone without a trace.

Aubrey jumped at the sudden change. "T-they just disappeared..."

April laughed. "Yeah, it takes some getting used to. They're ninjas, so they kinda do that all the time. Now imagine walking out of the shower, half-drunk at four AM and having them just lurking in your living room," she quirked a smile at Aubrey's wide-eyed stare. "It's enough to scare the piss outta ya. I had to start arming myself with projectile coffee cups before they would learn to knock first."

Despite herself, Aubrey began to giggle at the image of the giant turtle creatures diving for cover from a flurry of ceramic mugs. The laughter was a little frantic and it pulled at the sore muscles in her chest, but it helped to ease the bubble of tension that had built to bursting.

April chuckled along, memories playing in a reel before her eyes. She shook her head finally and met Aubrey's eyes directly. It was a sobering stare, forewarning the gravity of the conversation to come.

"Aubrey, are you okay?"

The brunette raised an angular brow.

April laughed. "Okay, so maybe not the best question," she admitted with a shrug of her narrow shoulders. "Are you afraid of them?"

Aubrey frowned, her brow furrowing in thought. Startled? Yes. Confused? Yes. Slightly in awe and extremely overwhelmed? Yes. But was she afraid of them?

"No," she gave April a lopsided grin. "I guess it's a little hard to be afraid of the people who somehow brought you back from the dead." Suddenly, her face contorted again.

"April, what exactly are they? I mean, Splinter is, or was at some point, clearly a rat. The others looked like jacked-up versions of turtle samurai."

"Ninjas," April corrected with a grin.

"I've never seen a ninja that wears armor that looks like a homemade replica from The Last Samurai."

April laughed aloud at that. "When have you ever seen a ninja before now?"

Aubrey chuckled and let slide the fact that April had dodged her question. "You may have a point." She groaned and lifted a hand to her injured shoulder. "April, what happened to me?"

April gave her a sympathetic look. "That may be a better question for Raph and Don. They were the ones who were there. If you've got any missing pieces, they'll be the ones who can fill you in."

Aubrey nodded. "Would you mind asking them to come back, if I haven't scared them off already?"

April snickered. "Oh, it'll take a lot more than that to scare them off. I'll be right back."

When she disappeared behind the couch, Aubrey let her head fall back with a soft thunk. She thought back to the Clinic and the moments before she passed out. Her vision faded long before her consciousness. She could feel the suction drawing the fluid out of her lungs, hear the splash of her blood against the rough, dark carpet. The brush of fabric over her skin.

A miserable voice saying, "She's already dead..."

A thin chill of horror crept up her spine at the thought, raising goosebumps in its wake.

Her morbid thoughts were interrupted by the movement of air around her - the silent warning that she was no longer alone. Aubrey opened her eyes slowly.

The turtles were standing before her, eyeing her warily. April appeared at her side and at her request, helped her shift to sit up.

Aubrey met their gazes one-by-one. She breathed deeply through her nose before speaking.

"I'm sorry," she began. This seemed to catch them off guard again. "I want you to know that my reaction earlier isn't because of any aversion to you." She gave them a small, hesitant smile.

Leonardo relaxed visibly and Mikey beamed.

"It's been a long, trying day -"

Raph gave a short, humorless laugh.

"- Probably more for you than for me. At least I got to pass out! I didn't have to deal with my unconscious self." Her expression turned somber. "And I want you all to know how very grateful I am to you."

"Mikey and Leonardo," they both looked at her. "Thank you for allowing me to stay here up to this point. I'm sure it's been a huge inconvenience."

"It's no problem, girl! Any time we get the chance to have sleeping beauty over -" Raph cut him off with a sharp jab to the ribs.

"And Raphael, Donatello, thank you for saving me. I've watched people die from lesser wounds than what I received. I don't know how you did it, but thank you. I owe you my life." Raph looked pleased despite himself. Donatello just looked uncomfortable.

The words were hard to get out. Not that Aubrey was ungrateful in the least, but it was difficult to acknowledge how close she had really come to being among the dearly departed. But a question still lingered.

"I'll be out of your way as soon as I'm able to move, but I have to ask - how am I even alive?"

All eyes turned to Donatello. He stuttered and fidgeted, pushing a pair of tatty Coke-bottle glasses up the broad ridge that formed his nose. They slid back down almost immediately, but he didn't move to correct them.

"W-well you see," he cleared his throat and finally looked at her. "We're not really sure." Suddenly, he started pacing.

"For all intents and purposes, you were dead. No heartbeat, no breath. Then Raph -" he gestured towards his brother, who was tightening a red skull cap around his head. "- he gave you a crude transfusion." His gesticulations grew wilder.

"You were suffering from hypovolaemic shock. There's no way that should have helped you as far gone as you were. And for all we know," he paused mid-stride to give Raph a stern look. Raphael responded by shifting the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. "- if you hadn't been dead already, the introduction of foreign blood could have killed you. There's no telling what the mutagen might have -"

"I'm sorry," Aubrey interrupted with a wave. "Mutagen?"

"Oh," Donatello paused in the middle of his pacing and looked at her as if he was only just noticing her existence. "We're mutants. Products of mutative genetic experimentation."

"Ah... of course you are," she mumbled. Donnie continued as if she'd never interrupted.

"There are just too many variables. We were lucky to be among the lab specimens to survive, but even then the mutagen was introduced during our developmental period. Giving an adult mutagen could have had devastating consequences on their biology..."

"But it didn't," she interrupted again. "It brought me back to life."

"More or less," the purple-banded mutant agreed. "It's more realistic that the mutagen kept you on the edge of shock long enough for your body to recover function and begin healing itself."

"So... am I a mutant now?"

He scoffed. "Not likely. If it's anything like a normal blood transfusion, the mutagen will pass out of your system as Raph's blood deteriorates. It'll heal you up and you'll be back to normal."

Aubrey's thoughts turned to her mother, pushing her back across the river.

He hesitated. "Though..."

"Though what?" Aubrey didn't like the nervous gleam in his eye as he turned toward her again.

"Well... nothing like this has ever happened before, so we really don't know if there will be any long-term consequences -"

"Besides my being alive, of course. I'm hoping that's long-term."

He grimaced. "Your body has already healed internally. It seems the mutagen has moved from the areas of greatest damage to the areas of least damage; following the natural healing process of your body. Unless you develop some kind of adverse reaction..." He trailed off, uncertainty stealing his words.

"I see." The others shifted where they stood behind Donatello.

Leonardo stepped forward then. His presence was commanding and his tone made no allowances for discussion. "It has been decided that, until we feel safe that you no longer pose a risk of further mutation, you'll remain here for observation."

Aubrey's eyes narrowed. "And how long, exactly, are you estimating that will be?"

Donatello was jittery again, tweaking the knobs on some contraption on his hip. "Well, it could be only a matter of weeks..."

Weeks?

"Or it could be indefinitely," Leonardo added.

Indefinitely? Aubrey could feel the panic rising in her throat again, hot and sour like bile.

April suddenly clapped her hands. "Let's stay positive, guys! We don't really know what's going to happen yet. Aubrey, I'm sure you'll be out of here in no time." Her uneasy smile spoke otherwise, though.

"There's a good chance that you can leave as soon as you're all healed up. I'll have to monitor your condition to make sure that you're actually..."

Aubrey began to drone them out as her thoughts began crushing in on her.

Trapped somewhere underground.

With a house full of mutants.

She looked at Raphael and Leonardo.

Grumpy mutants.

Indefinitely...

"Hey," April laid a hand on her good shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Are you feeling okay?"

Without realizing it, Aubrey had lifted her hand to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose to ward away the headache that was closing in. She could hear her pulse pounding in her ears.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little light-headed," she said with a half-hearted smile.

"Maybe you should lay back and rest some more. You've really been moving more than you should be, given that you got shot a couple hours ago." She smiled gently.

"Yeah, maybe you're right. Can we talk about this tomorrow? I don't think I'm really up for this now."

There was a murmur of consent around the room, and everyone slowly filed out. April was the last to leave.

"It'll be okay, Aubrey. They're good guys."

"Thanks, April..." She smiled as the redhead left.

As soon as she was alone, she leaned back into the arm of the couch, staring wide-eyed at the stone ceiling.

Indefinitely...

Author's Note:

Good gracious, it feels like it's been a century since I updated this story. This was a difficult chapter to get out, since it was mostly introduction and establishing initial character interactions. But it was necessary to get the plot ball rolling!

I've noticed that, upon re-reading my chapters, there are a lot of spelling and grammar errors that I missed in the first edit. Your mind really just fills in the blanks when you review your own work. It also doesn't help that I write nearly everything at 2 in the morning. So if you see any mistakes, please let me know, either in a review of the chapter, or in a private message. Having a regular beta-reader really isn't very practical, so I'm hoping small group efforts will be more effective.

For those of you who stuck with this story and sent me follow-up reviews, thank you! I love chatting with you, and it inspires me to trudge through writers' block and get my crap together! Keep an eye out for the next installment!

xoxo,

Spindrifter