*Now for Michelangelo and Rebecca. Relationships aren't just about the romance...they're about enduring, and supporting one another through everything. Thankfully, a certain orange-masked turtle is very good at that.

"...yes, Senator, I understand what you mean," Becky said calmly. "It's true that a lot of needs still exist in our own country."

"Please, hear what I'm really saying." The woman's tone across the phone line was slightly condescending, and made Rebecca feel like there wasn't much reason to continue with the call. "As human beings, of course we feel compassion for anyone less fortunate than us. But why would you ask us to raise resources for a country who's already being aided by the United Nations?"

"Because it isn't enough," she returned bluntly. "The state of most of the individual villages in the Democratic Republic of Congo goes unnoticed. There are programs in place to provide aid, but the majority of their people aren't in a position to receive help. In many countries, citizens can turn to their own government for support, but the DRC turns a blind eye to people.

"There are entire tribes dying out, for something as simple as not having the supplies or seeds to grow food. Restore their soil. Provide clean water. These are projects that don't require millions to achieve, Senator. They can be effectively accomplished for much less."

"On an individual basis, yes," Senator Stone conceded. "But if you were to combine all of the existing needs, it becomes a much larger feat. One that we simply don't have the resources to meet."

"I'm not asking you to save the Congo, Ma'am. Respectfully, I'm only looking for support to be raised for one village at a time."

"What difference do you hope to make for an entire country by focusing on one tiny village?"

Rebecca took a deep breath. "Because their lives matter, don't they? If a hospital was to catch on fire, the rescue workers would probably have a hard time getting to everyone. They would likely run out of time before all the patients could get out, but it wouldn't stop them from trying. Would you consider all of those lives worthless, just because you can't save every one of them?"

The woman on the other end was silent for a couple of beats. "You've given me some things to think about. I will be in touch within the week, once I've had the opportunity to weigh options with my advisers."

"Thank you for your time, Senator."

"Have a good day, Mrs. Hamato."

Becky hung up the phone with a sigh and fingered throbbing temples. That could have gone a lot better, but she didn't turn me down outright. We'll see what happens from here. The curly-haired woman cast a glum look at the framed photograph across the desk, portraying a younger version of herself along with her parents and older sister.

She rested her forehead against the desk, resisting the urge to cry. The woman had yet to experience an anniversary of her family's passing that wasn't emotional in some sense, but this year Becky was more down than usual. I'm the same age my mom was when she died. When they were murdered. Days like this, I feel like I've made so little headway to the goal we had for the Congo, but I'm trying. God help me, I'm trying.

A knock at the door drew her upright, and she sniffed quickly before trying to speak. "C'mon in."

The orange-masked turtle peered around the door curiously. "No time for lunch today?"

She glanced at the clock, finding that it was already after 1pm. "I didn't realize how late it was. I just spent about an hour on the phone with a Senator whose aides have been giving me the runaround for a couple weeks."

"Finally nailed her, huh?"

"Well, Victoria did. She's the one who tracked down Senator Stone's direct line for me."

Michelangelo chuckled. "Gotta love our Embassy connection."

Becky nodded wearily. "Don't know if the call did any good. Have to wait and see."

Mike gave her a hopeful smile. "So...can you come down for lunch, or do you want me to bring it to you here?"

Rebecca glanced at her computer screen, recalling the numerous e-mails she'd yet to send. "I have more to catch up on. I probably ought to stay here and finish."

The turtle saluted. "One lunch delivery coming up. What about tonight? Are you gonna be busy?"

"Um...there are always things to do around the Den it seems, but nothing urgent. Why?"

"I was thinking about taking a side trip – you and me."

"What'd you have in mind?"

He shook his head. "I'll keep that to myself for now."

"Isn't the snow starting tonight?"

"Not til real late. The temperatures are dropping ahead of the storm so we'll have to dress warm, but we should have plenty of time to spare."

Rebecca gave him a small smile. "Okay. Tonight is yours."

"Ours," he corrected. "I'll be back in a few, okay? Girl has to eat."

She smiled again as the turtle left, much easier than the first time. He makes everything feel...lighter. Always has. Wonder what he's got planned for tonight. With Mikey, you never can tell. I'll find out soon enough.

Becky tugged on the orange-masked turtle's stocking-cap, forcing his head toward her.

"Kinda trying to drive here, Beck."

"You still haven't told me where we're going, or what's in the bags." She pointed to the back end.

He grinned maddeningly. "You won't have to wait much longer."

"C'mon, Mikey. You've had me in suspense all day."

"Little excitement is good for you."

The curly-haired woman pretended to pout. She couldn't figure out why her husband would be driving her to Brooklyn. Becky was familiar enough with the area to recognize it even in the dark, having lived there for years when she'd first moved to Manhattan.

Mike sent her another glance out of the corner of his eye. "So impatient tonight."

"Why are we in Brooklyn? At least tell me that much."

Michelangelo chuckled. "We're almost there."

Rebecca sat back with a small huff, but she wasn't really angry; only trying to see if she could persuade the turtle to tell his secret. When Mike didn't react, her eyes drifted out the window to the giant arches marking Grand Army Plaza. She heard Mike activate the turn signal, and tugged on his coat sleeve. "Are we heading for Prospect Park?"

"You know your landmarks." Mike eased the car down the next street, searching for a parking spot. "We're gonna have to walk a ways," he said apologetically.

"It's never killed me before," she returned impishly. "We survived the rain forest in our twenties, so I think we should be able to handle a park in Brooklyn."

Mike grinned at her. "I won't be throwing you off anything."

"Thanks for that."

He scooped up the bags from the backseat of the Highlander before getting out.

"Did you happen to bring any food in case we get lost?" Becky teased.

He shook his head, ignoring the jab.

"A flare then? Something to send up smoke signals?"

Mike snickered. "We are gonna set something on fire."

"What?"

"It's okay. It'll burn out before it does any damage."

"Mike, what are you talking about?"

"You trust me, or not?"

"I swear, if you have fireworks in those bags..."

Michelangelo laughed loudly, grabbing her hand with his free one. "Not trying to get that kind of attention. Let's get you over this wall, and take it from there."

Rebecca paused by the imposing stone surface. "You did say you wouldn't be throwing me tonight."

"Nope. Gonna give you a boost, and then I'll help you down on the other side. Gimme your foot." The instruction was nothing unusual; no more than sneaking into a closed area. It was pretty much standard operating procedure for a night in the Hamato family.

She perched on top of the wall precariously after he'd lifted her, and waited for the turtle to join her. Michelangelo scaled the stone with ease, and gave her shoulder a light pat before leaping to the ground on the other side.

"C'mon, Beck. I gotcha."

The woman dropped to his waiting arms, laughing when he drew her close instead of putting her down.

"You good?" He wouldn't let her feet touch the ground, choosing to spin her in a circle instead.

"You're making me dizzy!"

Her husband immediately slowed and lowered her to the earth. His arms hung loosely around her waist, and Mike leaned in for a kiss she was all too ready to grant.

"Okay, what are we doing?" she then demanded. "How are pyrotechnics involved?"

"Who said anything about pyrotechnics?"

"Why are we playing with fire?"

Michelangelo tapped the bags he'd only just retrieved from the ground. "We're gonna make fire fly."

"Come again?"

"They're sky lanterns," he relented.

Rebecca cocked her head. "They fly?"

"I'll show you how it works, Beck, but I wanna get to Lookout Hill first. It'll make more sense when you see one."

Rebecca eyed the orange-masked turtle warily, but held up the collapsed lantern as he requested.

"Little higher, Becky. You have to give it time to inflate, and then you'll be able to let it go."

"Are you sure it's legal to set them off here?"

He shrugged. "Beats me. But they're biodegradable, and they'll burn out long before they hit the ground."

"For sure?"

Mike laughed. "Yes. It won't even start crashing until the fire goes out."

Anxiety turned to fascination as the lantern slowly expanded in her grip, and she felt the material gaining a lift of its own. "I think it might be ready. Should I just let it go?"

Mike nodded, pointing down from the hill upon which they were camped. "Wind ought to carry it well tonight."

The woman released it after a moment's hesitation, partially mesmerized by the glow as the lantern was carried away on the breeze. She stared after the object as it traveled over the frozen lake below, and didn't notice how close Mike had come until he was right beside her.

"We can say that one's for your mom. What's one of your favorite memories of her?"

Becky was quiet for several seconds, never taking her eyes off the burning light. "I don't think I can nail it down to a single memory. She was too big of a spirit for that. It was her compassion that drove my family to the Congo to begin with. The same compassion that..." She knew what she wanted to say, but had difficulty forming the words. "The same compassion whose final word to me was 'forgive'."

Rebecca sniffed back tears as the turtle wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "I don't know who to blame for their deaths, but even if I did, it wouldn't matter. Because a small part of my mom, the love she had for other people, is still alive inside me. It drives me to this day."

"It's more than a small part," Mike told her.

She tried to shrug, but couldn't lift her shoulder under the weight of his arm. "It probably feels smaller compared with her."

"She wouldn't say that if she was standing here, Beck."

The woman made a face. "You have to say that, Mikey."

"I'd say it even if I didn't have to. 'Cause it's true." He hugged her tightly, and she buried her face against his chest. "So this is cool, right? You wanna keep going?"

"Yes, but you got one for your Sensei, didn't you? Let's do his next."

Michelangelo flashed her a thumbs up. "Will you hold it for me to light again?"

This time Becky only kept a hold of the lantern until it started inflating, and then handed it off to the orange-masked turtle.

Mike released his lantern with a small push, smiling as it soared off on the wind, down into the valley.

"Are you going to tell me one of your favorite things about your Sensei?"

He glanced back at her solemnly. "Like you, there's a lot to choose from. But one thing that comes to mind quickly is the way he didn't try to...change us. He trained me and my brothers from the time we were kids, but he wasn't trying to make little clones. I didn't notice it at the time, but Master Splinter had this way of focusing on our individual strengths and weaknesses, adapting a program that would fit our needs. It wasn't that his way was the only right one. Sensei never stopped me from being myself. I think that's part of the reason I never really grew up." He finished with a Cheshire smile.

"None of you did, but it's part of your charm. Thanks for bringing me out here, Mikey. It's probably illegal, but nice."

He snorted. "Just a couple more lanterns to go, and we can hightail it out of here before the FBI and the snow show up."