Forward we march, into the plot which grows ever thicker. And it does seem to just be flying out everywhere now. I had expected this to go at a much more… sedate pace, I guess. But doesn't look like the story or the characters want to cooperate, the lovable little rebels. Don't worry, characters… I don't mind the insubordination! (hides a bazooka under my desk) I've got caaandy for yoooouuu…!

As always, special thanks to my beta readers. Y'all are wonderful. Another special thanks to all the reviewers who have stuck with me so far. Thanks so much!

I don't own the Turtles or anything related to them, which includes Irma. I DO however take credit for her updated personality. Totally all me.

Warning: Bad language from Irma in this chapter. Ye Be Warned.

Chapter Seventeen

I woke up the next morning feeling like someone had dropped a ton of weights on my skull. I could hear my phone ringing in the kitchen and the normally quiet sound erupted in my mind like a percussion band. With a groan, I pulled my blankets back over my head, willing myself to go back to sleep. It was probably Ken anyway. After my rather abrupt and impersonal break-up with him the night before, he had wanted to get into a shouting match over the phone. I hung up on him quickly, not hearing anything past "crazy, bi-polar witch." I thought that was particularly clever and resolved to use it myself once I managed to get the dwarves in my brain to stop their mining and hammering.

The only thing I could be sure of was that the sun was shining through my curtains, and I decided that as soon as I was physically able I was going to shoot it out of the sky. Eventually. This was followed by Sensible Irma scolding the hell out of Immature Irma for drinking so much the night before and making a perfect fool out of myself with Don-

My eyes shot open despite my earlier resolve to keep them closed and it all came flooding back into my mind. Suddenly I remembered why I drank so much. There was only one thing to do at this point; crawl under a rock and never, ever, ever come back out. That plan only went so far though. Firstly, I had work the next day, and secondly, there was a significant shortage of large rocks in my apartment.

Also someone started knocking on some part of my apartment (I was in no position to judge what sounds were coming from where, other than my phone because I knew where I had left it) to come in, so flying out to Arizona for a boulder or two didn't seem to quite possible at that particular moment. I didn't answer, hoping that whoever it was would go away, but instead I heard a window open and Leo's voice calling out my name. "Irma? I know you're in here. I need to talk to you." He had crawled in through the window that overlooked the alley, which was partially hidden by trees and signs, so probably he was safe from being seen. Also, he was a ninja, so there was even less to worry about.

I said absolutely nothing and did my best to pretend I was dead. It didn't work. "Irma, I can see you under the blankets," said Leo from my doorway.

"No you can't," I said, still buried under everything. "You only think you can. You're hallucinating. Perfectly understandable considering how many hits you take to the head."

"Speaking of hits taken to the head…" He sat on the edge of my bed and tried to pull my pillow off my face. I held on to it with a vice-like grip and he sighed in exasperation. "C'mon, Irma, talk to me."

"No," I stubbornly refused. "I'm wallowing in misery here. Nothing can make this better except ice cream and chocolate."

"Well, I don't have either of those things, but I'm not leaving until you talk to me about what happened."

"I don't want to talk about it," I said despondently. "There's nothing to say."

"Irma, Don has a hickey on his neck the size of-"

"If you're here to lecture me on my relationship with him, don't worry about it. There isn't one. He made that perf… perfec…" And then once more I burst into tears and curled up into a fetal position under my blankets while trying to stammer out what I was trying to say. "He m-m-made tha-a-at pe-perfectly cl-cl-clear."

The blankets were ripped off of me now that I was focused on other things, but I was too busy crying into my hands to care that Leonardo could now see how horrible I looked. My hair was in complete disarray, my eyes were red and puffy from weeping, I looked hung-over from the night before and (to my own mortification) I probably had a decent-sized hickey myself.

Leo sighed and I turned my head to look at him. He was massaging his temple with his fingers and seemed very tempted to go beat his head against the wall. "A person should never, ever, ever have to see the effects of a make-out session that his brother's been in," he said.

A sound of distress escaped me, and I buried my head under a pillow once more before Leo pulled it off. "Irma," he said, firmly. "We should discuss what's happened between you and my brother."

"Why? I don't see how that's any of your business whatsoever."

"It's my business because he's my brother and we fight together in life and death battles on a regular basis. I want to know that he'll be alright." He waited to see if I would respond, and when I didn't, he continued. "And you're my friend. I want to know that you'll be alright."

Pulling the pillow off my head, I stared at his face with my eyes narrowed to see if he was being serious. I realized a moment later that this was a silly thing to do because he was almost always serious. With a sigh, I decided to acquiesce to his demand and sat up, wincing as I did so. "Ooooh… ow."

He said nothing, but waited for me to speak. I took a minute to collect my thoughts before I tried explaining. "Alright, you want to know what happened last night? What happened was nothing. I came home, got drunk, your brother showed up to tell me that he was no good for me because for some idiotic reason he thought that argument would work on me. Then I proceeded to tell him to shut up and we had a make out session before he told me no and left. That's it. That's all there was to it. He's turned me down and nothing is going to happen between us, The End."

"Then," I said, deciding to round it off with the big finale, "I had an emotional breakdown, came inside and broke up with Ken via phone call and proceeded to drown my cares in Cuban Rum mixed with coke, the results of which you see before you."

"You broke up with Ken?" he exclaimed. "Why?"

"Well, obviously because I don't care about him!" I snapped.

Leonardo hmm'd to himself and seemed lost in thought before turning back to me. "Irma, I'm sure you've realized by now that Donatello is a little…" he hesitated to search for a word.

"Bi-polar? Indecisive? An idiot? A four year old in a turtle's body?"

"Knock it off," he snapped at me. "As if you can talk about maturity. You're the one acting like a four year old!"

I scowled at him but didn't say anything else."Donatello is something of a control freak," he continued. "And he can't control you, or how he may or may not feel about you. And it's driving him crazy."

"I know the feeling," I muttered.

"I'm sure. Anyway, my point is to keep the fact that this is all new and he doesn't know how to react to it in mind."

With a sigh, I patted his leg lightly. "Look, Leo, I appreciate that you're trying to help, but I really don't see how this applies to o-" I stopped myself from saying our and switched mid-word, "the situation… if there even is one anymore. Don made it pretty clear that there wasn't going to be anything other than friendship. Ever."

My companion stared at me, and I found myself drawn up to his eyes. He stared into mine with an intensity that could only be described as unnerving. I had no idea how they managed to do it- all four brothers, not to mention Master Splinter, had a way of making you feel like they could read your every thought. Leo was the best at it though, except for Splinter, and I had to resist the urge to squirm in discomfort. "Do you want there to be anything other than friendship?" he asked finally.

What could I say to that? How was I supposed to respond? I had already reconciled myself to the fact that I felt some sort of attraction to Donatello, as unlikely and unthinkable it may have been. But I hadn't thought about what would have happened if he had actually given in to my drunken attempts and had stayed. Probably nothing more than what had happened in terms of… physical displays of affection, but the relationship would have changed drastically.

Leonardo watched me carefully, and I wondered if my thoughts and emotions were written across my face. "I don't know if anything would be even possible," I began slowly. "But… I think that if we feel more than friendship, we should at least try to work it out, even if we're just friends at the end anyway."

He nodded slowly, his face thoughtful. We were both quiet for a moment and then I glanced over to my mirror and screamed. Leonardo jumped, completely startled, and instantly went into a defensive crouch on my bed. I had rushed to my mirror and was staring at myself in abject horror. "Oh my GOD, I look like the CRYPT KEEPER!"

I heard the sound of Leo slapping his forehead behind me, but I was too busy examining my reflection to care. "Irma…" he began.

"My hair looks like it's been gnawed on by a pack of wild dogs!" I wailed.

"IRMA!"

I whirled around to face an irate Leonardo. "Irma Langinstein," he said firmly, "you need to figure out what's going on between you and Donatello."

"But he doesn't want-" I began to protest.

"He doesn't know what he wants!" Leo interrupted me. "He's confused and uncertain and can't control his emotions, and it's driving him nuts. Eventually he'll realize that the only thing that'll get it all worked out is actually coming to you and having a real conversation about it. You just have to wait it out."

"Easier said than done." Patience was something that could not be counted within my virtues.

"You're telling me." Leo came and stood next to me, giving me a reassuring but brief one-armed hug. "It'll work out. No matter what happens, you'll still be our friend. And we'll be around to make sure you don't set yourself on fire."

I would have given him a nasty look, but his teasing personality so rarely came out that I didn't want to destroy it. "Thanks, I guess," I said, and he gave a snort of amusement before heading out of my room towards the alleyway window. "Well, I'm off. And…" he gave me a once-over, "you might want to consider putting some extra makeup on today. Y'know… just for the eyes-"

"GOODBYE, Leo," I told him, and closed the window after he left.

The next few weeks were a lot smoother in the Drama Department. I hadn't spoken to Donatello for some time, although his brothers would come to visit and assure me he was doing well. I still felt somewhat emotionally unstable, but then again, I kind of always felt that way since, as my uncle once put it, I was a few sandwiches short of a picnic.

I had been working extra hours and days to make up for all the time I had missed since meeting the turtles (which, incidentally, added up to a lot), and now the rest of the library crew were used to seeing me come in at weird hours of both day and night, whatever day of the week I wanted. The higher-ups might have been annoyed, but they I kept up all my work and made sure things were still running smoothly, so they weren't too miffed about shirking my responsibilities, just that I hadn't had a schedule I'd stuck to for months.

My friends there greeted me and we did the usual checklist of things to do that day, problems people had been having with the computer search systems, books that we should add to our acquisitions list, the normal things. The office I used had a stack of papers higher than my head (not really, but it felt like it was) and I settled myself in to fill out the papers and get things set straight again.

The long to-do list might have irritated me had I not had so much going on in my other life. As it was, it was a pleasant distraction. At least, until lunchtime when I got up to go grab a sandwich from a nearby Subway shop because I forgot to pack some soup or something. Grabbing my purse, I called out to Kelly that I was heading out for half an hour. She gestured to show she had heard and I bundled up to leave. The steps outside the library were somewhat icy, so I clung to the railing to keep myself from slipping and falling to my untimely death, which, knowing me, would probably be the way I'd go. I was so busy concentrating on not dying that I failed to notice the person rapidly approaching me, the stride angry and purposeful. It wasn't until I was at the bottom that I turned my attention to other things and found myself bumping into-

"Ken!" I gasped, and instinctively clutched at my jacked, pulling it around myself tighter. It made me no more secure, I knew, but having grabbed something made me feel a little better. "What're you doing here?" I asked him. I knew it was probably a silly question; as a professor, he could go anywhere on campus that he liked. But he had walked straight up to me, or so it seemed, which made me a little uneasy.

"We should probably talk," he said, and his voice and face were both serious and not a little upset. I nodded. He was right. It was the least that I owed him. "I, ah, I was about to go get some lunch if you'd like to come, and we can talk then."

"Alright."

We walked in silence for a few minutes until we got to the Subways and ordered our sandwiches. I went to sit at a booth and he shook his head. "Let's go to a bench on campus somewhere." He glanced around and lowered his voice slightly. "Less people."

It went unsaid that there was a chance that one of us was going to end up shouting, so I nodded, knowing he was thinking of that. We didn't get halfway across the street back to campus before he said something, though

"I just don't get it!" he said irately, lifting his hands up in a gesture of confusion and annoyance. "I mean, we're together for, what, two or three months and then suddenly you're done? What the hell, Irma? What the hell!"

We had continued walking as he spoke and by now were officially on campus. "What the hell? Did you really just ask that?" I took a big bite of my sandwich irritated, glaring at him. "Who was the one who kept running out on our dates? Who was the one who was charming when I was mad and then just kept doing the same things that made me upset over and over again?"

"Is that the only reason?" he demanded, taking his sandwich out and taking a bite of his own. "Or are you just using that as an excuse?"

My mouth was too full of yummy sandwich to answer, so instead I gave him my best intimidating glare until I had chewed enough to swallow. "Frankly, I don't need to make excuses to break up with you. You're the one who never answered calls, left the dates, and basically was never around."

"You're the one that kept the secrets!" he shot back at me.

This made me step away from him, eying him warily. "I don't know what you're talking about," I said defensively, and he snorted in derision.

"Don't treat me like I'm stupid, honey. It's pretty obvious that you have something that you don't want other people to know about." He leaned forward towards me and gave me the grin I had seen when we first met, the grin that looked like he was about to slaughter a whole family and laugh in a very, very disturbing way while doing so. "The thing with secrets, though, is that when people find out you have them, they want to figure out what it is."

"You…" my voice hitched and I had to try again. "You're crazy."

He kept that grin on his face. "You wouldn't be the first to think so."

"Stay away from me," I snapped at him. "You're an unreliable jerk and I have no interest in you. Just because you're cute doesn't mean that I'm going to let you treat me like a… something that you treat badly."

"Very moving, Irma."

"Yeah, well, shut up!"

Ken was suddenly right in front of me, his face just centimeters from mine, his expression threatening and not at all friendly. I felt a sudden urge to reach into my purse for the mace that was there, and my hand twitched to reach for the gun holster I could never wear but often wished I could.

"Irma," he whispered the look of happy murder still on his face, "you should probably think before getting on my bad side."

I swallowed, trying my damndest not to let my fear on my face. I was probably unsuccessful. "You're threatening me because I'm breaking up with you?" I asked, my disbelief clear. Damnit, Irma, why do you always pick the creeps? Why? You just have really sucky luck when it comes to men.

"I'm not threatening you," he said, interrupting my line of thought, "I'm having a serious discussion with you because you're trying to write me off like I'm one of your average guys who'll let you get away with that kind of thing. I'm not going to let you just treat me like I'm disposable."

"You're just trying to keep me in an awful relationship," I replied. "I've been in those before. You can't keep me in this one." I suddenly drew myself up, throwing him off a little and pulled what I hoped was an imperial sort of look off. "You can't scare me, Ken Shinobu. I'm not going to let you intimidate me. We're over, and you're never going to talk to me again." I turned around and began to walk as calmly as I could back to the library, taking a nervous bite out of my sandwich as I did so. Don't look back, don't look back, don't look back, don't look back, I kept chanting to myself. I wanted to, because I wanted to know if he was coming after me with a hacksaw, but at the same time I didn't want to give off the air that I was two seconds away from running as fast as I could while screaming my head off.

I didn't hear any footsteps following me, so I figured I was safe. Once I got back into my office, I sat down in my chair and took a deep breath. Then I shoved my sandwich, chips and cookies into my mouth as fast as I could and resolved to get a gallon of ice cream after work and curl up in my apartment with the turtle brothers patrolling around outside my windows.

That night, I was sitting in my apartment with Michelangelo and Leonardo, telling them about the confrontation with Ken. Raphael and Donatello were doing recon in other parts of the city; they hadn't been told the whole story out of concern that they would push for going after Ken directly, Raph because he was Raph, and Don because, well, he liked me. Probably. Mikey was sitting with me on the couch, lending a supporting arm while Leo paced the room, considering the situation. The windows were, of course, closed, and the new, thick curtains I had bought made sure that the shapes of the brothers wouldn't be seen.

Leonardo was sympathetic, but ultimately non-committal in regards to the situation. "I understand this is difficult," he was saying, "but the four of us can't get involved in something like this. The guy sounds like a jerk, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he's going to come after you. It's just not something that we have the resources to worry about."

"Dude," Mikey snapped, "you sound like we don't care at all. At least talk like you wanna help."

"It's not like that!" the blue clad ninja argued. "Irma, you know we care about you, and if we could, we'd help. If he was actively threatening you with bodily harm, we'd gladly protect you, but simple threats are not things that usually worry us. Unless," he amended, "they've got a habit of leaving hints before they blow up a building or something."

I sighed and slouched back in my seat. I hadn't really anticipated this, although to be honest I couldn't really blame them. If I were in their position, I'd probably be somewhat wary as well. "Thanks anyway," I said glumly. "Guess I'll pull out the ol' baseball bat again and give it a few trial swings."

Mikey tried to mollify me. "Look, Irms, we can still come check out around your apartment from time to time. That oughta be okay," he glanced over at Leo. "Right?"

The elder brother repressed a sigh and nodded. "Sure, we can do that."

It made me feel a bit better, even though I knew it was unlikely to make an impact on the situation. Still, they were doing their best. I thanked them as the two left the apartment and promised I'd come down to visit as soon as I could. The phone rang right as Mikey was leaving via the window, and I made sure it was securely locked before going to answer.

"Hello," I said brightly into the receiver.

"Hey, Irma."

I froze, recognizing the voice. "Ken, what're you doing?"

"Just calling you, seeing if you've reconsidered your position on how you should treat me."

"If you're asking me if I've changed my mind about you being a creep and needing to stay the hell away from you, no."

"Shame. Oh, well. Have fun at work tomorrow."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

The only answer I received was from the dial-tone. I hung up, seriously considering throwing myself down the stairs in an attempt to break a limb. Then I could use the doctor's note to keep my job but not have to go in. The problem with that plan was that I liked using my arms and legs. Plus, pain was not very enjoyable.

I briefly debated whether or not to call the boys and tell them about my message… but if I did that, I'd be branded a coward for the rest of my life. Since when have you cared about THAT? demanded Sensible Irma. Get off your ass and call them, damnit!

Noooo, said Immature Irma. Appearances! Appearances! Must look badass!

Obviously the side that always gets me into trouble is correct, my logical mind concluded. When has being rash ever backfired for me?

With that comforting thought, I walked into my bedroom and collapsed into sleep.

I went to work the next day expecting something big and pointy to come at me any moment. I had a brisk walking pace throughout the morning in case Ken had found a way to sic Pyramid Head on me. By the time afternoon rolled around though, I was fairly at ease, as the duties of the day kept me from really worrying about anything. As it was, by the time lunch rolled around, Ken was the furthest thing from my mind. This should have been the biggest warning sign to me. Everything happened when I felt good about stuff.

I had gone to get some Thai Take-Out, talking with the person at the counter, looking over the menu slowly, just basically taking my sweet time.

It was when I got back to the campus that everything went to hell. Not right away, of course. That would have been too easy. Whoever (or whatever) started off the fire was kind enough to wait until I had finished my meal and was just starting to feel the effects of the dreaded Afternoon Nap Syndrome.

At the time it started, I was staring at the cardboard carton that my fried rice had been in, arguing with it about the likelihood of being discovered should I attempt to nap at my desk. The carton was arguing against it. Unnecessary risk, it said.

But so relaxing! I argued back. I stopped suddenly, and thought about the frequency with which I engaged in debates with inanimate objects concerning random things. "Should probably stop that…"

I sighed, leaning against a hand that I propped up on the desk. Then I sniffed. Then I sat up, sniffing again. "I smell smoke," I said to the empty food container, and then I stood up, rushing to the door. "Ben! Francine!" I called out for the other two librarians and they walked over to me hurriedly.

"I smell smoke," said Ben, a worried frown on his face.

"John and I smelled it too," said Francine, "but the alarms haven't gone off, so he just went to see what was causing it."

"Alarms or not, there should be no smoke in this building. If there's a fire and the alarms haven't gone off automatically, then we'll have to do it manually." A mental image of the map of the library appeared in my head. Six floors, escape routes for the basement, first and second floor, secondary entrance from another building for the third and fourth floors… the last two floors would have to go to the roof, where an emergency evacuation route had been built going from one roof to another. It was a sort of drawbridge that had to be extended between the two buildings, but it could be done quickly and without much trouble. With this map in mind, I began throwing out orders.

"Ben, you take the first and second floors. Francine, where was John?"

"Fifth floor."

"You take the third and forth. I'll take the fifth and sixth. The janitor can check out the basement."

"I'll call him right away," volunteered Ben helpfully.

I nodded. "Good. Alright, we'll each do a search of the floors. Enlist students to help find the source if you like, but make sure that they do not try to touch or stop or put out whatever is causing the smell. When it's found, call us on the walkie talkie (I was handing them out as I was speaking). If it's nothing, we can have it removed, but if it is a fire, I want every student out of the library pronto, understood? I want them kept calm and no heroics, and that goes for y'all as well, understand me?" I pointed at the two of them firmly, the authoritative tone in my voice giving me the ability to hand out orders without people taking note of the absurdity of the situation.

Francine and Ben both nodded, and we went our separate ways, Ben calling the janitor as he went. The library was thankfully quiet that day. There appeared to be few students, which was a mercy for us as we began looking through the building. I went up the stairs to the fifth floor, which seemed to be abandoned, and perused through all the shelves as quickly as I could without missing any details. Ben's voice came over the walkie talkie. "The janitor said he's seen no sign of any fire or tampering in the basement. The smell hadn't reached him, he said. So far the first floor is clear."

"I've got some students helping me look through my floors. Nothing so far," Francine's voice said through the box in my hand.

Holding it up to my face, I responded. "Nothing on this end either, and no sign of John. Any ideas?"

"Could it be coming through the ventilation system?" asked Ben. "Whatever's making that smell wouldn't have to be too big for the scent to travel through the air shafts, if it was positioned in the right place. Maybe John went to see what it was."

"Good idea, great idea. Y'all check all the maintenance rooms on your floors, I'll check mine."

They both agreed, and I headed towards the door labeled MAINTENCE. AUTHORIZED PERSONEL ONLY. Pulling out the set of keys from my pocket in case I needed to unlock the door, I put my hand on the knob and then jumped back, swearing. It was hot, and it burned my hand. My eyes widened. "Oh, no…" Biting my lip, I reached out and grasped the knob, flinging the door open as quickly as I could without causing too much damage to my hand. The first thing I saw was John, lying on the ground unconscious. I rushed over to him and inspected. He was breathing, but his forehead was bloody and I could see where someone had smashed something against his head. I sympathized with him, having experienced similar pain some time before. I sat him up and lightly slapped his cheeks to wake him up. I didn't have the physical strength to pull him out of the room, so I had to get him to move on his own. "John. John!" I looked up and paled when I saw that the source of the heat that had caused the doorknob to burn my hand was… not something I recognized.

It was a square box that appeared to be made of metal, and it sat on a small table by the door. It was radiating heat, and as far as I could tell, it was the source of the smoke-smell too. I had no idea whether it was a bomb or just a very dangerous-looking prank object, but I wasn't going to take chances with it. Pulling out the walkie talkie, I spoke to the others in my best Fearless Leader voice. "Guys, I found John and the source of the smell, and I'm willing to bet whoever put this thing in here isn't friendly. I don't know if I've found an explosive or not, but I want every student out of here, ASAP and I want the fire department called immediately."

"Right away!" said Francine. Ben said something equally affirmative, but I wasn't paying attention at that point.

John was moaning something and I looked down to see that his eyes were opening. "Thank God," I breathed. "John! John, its Irma. Can you move?"

"Uhhhm…" His eyes opened slowly and he winced in pain, looking up at me. "Irma?"

"Yeah, it's me." I looked up at the bomb-thing again and bit my lip. "John, we have to go now. Can you move?"

He struggled a moment and then got to his feat with a sound of pain. I wrapped one of his arms around my shoulders for support and we walked out of the room as quickly as we could. The walkie talkie blared in my hand, and Ben's voice came over in a state of static panic. "Irma, we're evacuating all the kids we can find, but the fire alarm system isn't working!"

"What the hell did you just say?"

"I don't know what's wrong with it! I just pulled it on the second floor and nothing's happening!"

Francine came on, her voice shaky with worry. "I just tried the alarm on the third floor, and it's not working here either. Irma, I think someone sabotaged it!"

I closed my eyes briefly and counted to three before answering. "Francine, I need you to come to the stairs between the fourth and third floor and take John. He needs help. Then I want you to call the fire department, and request an ambulance, and the police. This is not an accident; someone is trying to hurt us. Ben, I want you to clear out every student from the third floor down. I'm on the fourth floor and I'll work my way up. Everyone clear? Go!"

Without another word I began to pull John towards the stairs, praying desperately that everything would turn out alright and that no one would get hurt. Francine, being the dependable person that she was, showed up at the stairs just as I got there with John. She was out of breath and frightened but clear-headed. I passed him off to her and told her to order any students she found out through the nearest emergency exits while I searched the next two floors up. As I walked away, I registered Ben saying he'd cleared out the third floor and was working on the second. I quickly looked through the fourth floor again, searching out students, but it looked like it was all clear. With a satisfied nod, I made my way to the fifth floor- and then the bomb, because of course that's what it was, went off behind me. I was thrown forward a few feet, and the wind was knocked out of me so that I had to kneel on the stairs, doubled over in pain and try to get my breath back. The other two librarians were swearing and demanding to know what had happened from their ends, but I was in no position to say anything. Finally, I pulled it from where I had dropped it on the stairs and gasped out "Well, it was definitely a bomb."

"Irma, get out of there! Use the roof exit! Now!" I wasn't sure who was talking to me, but I couldn't agree more with their suggestion. With a groan of pain and my hand clutching my wounded side, I staggered up the stairs and began my search of the fifth floor. I called out to any students who might have been there, and then I noticed something troubling. The door to the maintenance room was wide open and I saw a now-familiar metal box sitting on the floor.

"Well, fuck," I said, my voice dispassionate and dull. "Time for desperate measures." And with that, I stood straight up, raised my voice as loudly as I could, and screamed out into the room.

"IF THERE ARE ANY STUDENTS ON THIS FLOOR, GET THE FUCK OVER HERE RIGHT NOW OR I'LL KICK YOUR FUCKING STUPID ASSES INTO NEXT THURSDAY!"

No one shouted back at first, and I felt something like relief crawl into me. The sprinkler systems had gone off as soon as the first explosion had gone off- maybe that tipped of the students to leave. But then-

"Miss Irma!" I spun around to see who was calling me, and a girl rushing out from behind a bookcase. I recognized her, Lauren Chalmain. She was a lithe young thing, with long blond hair and big blue eyes. If she had been in a storybook, I mused momentarily, she would have fit the part of a Damsel in Distress perfectly.

She rushed to my side, and, seeing me wince, wrapped her arms around me, both to help me and for some shallow feeling of security. I patted her arm reassuringly. "We're gonna be fine," I told her. "Let's just get up to the fire escape on the roof. Were there any others on this floor?"

She shook her head as we walked, worry etched over her face. "No, I was the only one. I didn't see anyone!"

We began to rush up the stairs to the next floor. "What about whoever set the bombs?" I demanded. "Did you see anyone set them up?"

Again, she shook her head, and she looked at me with what I suspected were tears in her eyes. "Why would someone do this? I don't understand!"

I had nothing to say to this. I was focused on getting us out of the library. Once we were on the roof, we could cross over, and it would be fine. The sprinkler system, by now, was drenching us both, which was a mercy in the face of the fire that I knew now would consume the library. I had to squeeze my eyes shut and stood still for just a moment at that thought. I could feel my heart breaking as I realized that all of those books, hundreds and hundreds of years worth of toil and research and pure love on the half of the authors, the readers, and caretakers- it was about to go up in flames, and we could do nothing about it. I was pulled out of my mournful revere by Lauren's worried voice. "Miss Irma, what are you doing? We have to go!"

I nodded and squeezed her hand in assurance. "Come on," I said. "We're almost there."

That, of course, was when the goddamned bomb on the sixth floor went off. Just as we were passing by a massive bookshelf. Which caught fire. And was falling down on us. Without thinking, I shoved Lauren to the side and made a leap out of the way as well. I couldn't escape the cascade of burning books that fell down onto me, though, and I screamed as the burning paper fell onto my head, my back-

"MY HAIR!" I screeched, and I ran around under the sprinklers in an attempt to make the flames that had sprouted on my head go out.

"Hold still!" shouted Lauren at me, and suddenly I was completely covered in white foam. I didn't know where she found the fire extinguisher, but as I stared at myself, completely covered in white, and reached back to feel that the hair that had been pulled back into a bun had mostly been burned up, I could only force a traumatized "Thank you," passed my lips.

"You're welcome," she responded shakily. Then another shelf fell down, and the moment of shock was over. Most of the foam washed off as we ran through the sprinklers, and I felt, with no small amount of horror and sorrow, as the pins that had held up my bun now fell out as most of my hair had burned away. Grasping each other's hand tightly, Lauren and I raced up the last flight of stairs to the roof. I tossed my ruined walkie-talkie away as we went; the water and then fire damage had rendered it useless anyway. When we reached the last steps to the outside, I gave a sob of relief that I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I grasped the handle to the roof and jiggled it- and it didn't open. We exchanged a look of terror and then with a sinking feeling of utter despair, I realized that I had left the keys to the roof on the fifth floor where I had found John.

"I… I don't have the keys…" I whispered, complete and abject desolation in my voice. Lauren stared at me, incomprehension on her face. "We can't get out," I said, and then turned away from the door to face the flames that were rising up. I could see their shadows licking along the walls hungrily, like fingers trying to get to the last little morsels before the end of the meal. "We're trapped," said brokenly, as I sat on the stairs. "We're going to die, because I was too stupid to remember to grab the keys."

"No… No!" I heard Lauren shout behind me. "No we are not! I refuse! Get up!" And she began to pound on the thick metal door, shouting, screaming, crying for someone to come and open the door, to come and save us. I didn't bother telling her it was useless, that no one would be up there. I simply pulled my glasses off and buried my face in my hands, shoulders shaking as I cried at the injustice of it all. Maybe it was just for me, payback somehow for something I'd done; maybe I deserved to die according to some cosmic reasoning, for being a slut, maybe, or for being an awful daughter. But Lauren didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve to burn alive for my mistakes. And so I cried for her, for me, although it would do no good, and then I cried, idiotically enough, for the April, and Casey, and Splinter, and the boys. They had done so much for me and they hadn't had to, and then (and even as I did it, I berated myself furiously) I wept for Donatello, harder than I ever had before. I had screwed up his life, I realized, and maybe that's why I was going to die. I couldn't bring myself to feel anger about such a death; it felt warranted when paired up with that particular reason.

I don't know how long I sat there, preparing to fry while Lauren slammed herself against the door, sobbing in desperation. The smoke billowed up into the stairwell and the two of us began to cough as it pushed into our lungs. I considered it something of a mercy; suffocation seemed better than being turned into charcoal. It felt as though time froze, and I wondered briefly if I'd end up with Henry again in the afterlife. It would probably serve me right.

But then there was shouting from the other side of the door, sounds of someone hammering at the metal, and Lauren jumped back and I stood up, and we stared at each other in shock and surprise and hope, and then-

The door flew open from the outside, the lock and knob bent and broken in, and silhouetted in the sunlight and the smoke was the most beautiful, wonderful figure in the universe, and it reached out for me as I stumbled out of the smoke and into its arms.

Donatello held me tight as I coughed and he pulled me away from the smoke to the side of a shed on the roof. Michelangelo was doing the same with Lauren, brushing the debris off her as she tried to clear her lungs. I managed to stop coughing long enough to look up into Donny's face, noting that his expression was very similar to the one he had worn when he thought Leo had stabbed me by accident- he looked at me like his universe had just been pulled back from the edge of oblivion and he couldn't believe it. I wanted to say something- opened my mouth to do just that- but then he picked me up bridal style and began to run towards the edge of the roof. I wrapped my arms around him in fear; I had no idea what the hell he was doing until he leapt to the other side. Michelangelo joined us a moment later, his arms full of Lauren, who looked like she was going into shock from fear.

I quickly pulled away from Donny and rushed over to her side as Mikey gently set her on her feet. "Lauren," I said urgently, "listen, you can't tell anyone about them, okay?" She gave no indication that she had heard me, so I grabbed her face in my hands and turned her face towards mine. "Lauren, promise me. You have to swear you'll never tell anyone, okay?" She stared at me, but said nothing. I shook her a little. "Promise me!"

Whatever was on my face must have made her mind up, because she nodded and said, "Yes, I promise, I won't tell anyone."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you," I said. "Thank you so much."

Another brother came to join us, Raphael, and he rushed to our sides, turning me towards him and giving me a once-over. Once he was certain that I was in no danger of keeling over dead, he took me in his arms and gave me a tight hug before pulling away and looking over at Lauren. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him because he turned away to Donatello. "We gotta get these two down there. They're goin' crazy lookin' for 'em."

Michelangelo grabbed both of us human girls by the hand and pulled us to the side of the building where there was a fire escape. "Here ya go," he said. "You two just climb on down there and you'll be right as rain."

"What about the fire escapee that went to the other building from the library?" I asked. "Why'd you pull us over here?"

"Someone blew it all to hell," responded Raph grimly. "Whoever set this fire was lookin' to cook you guys alive."

"Yeah, almost succeeded too," I muttered darkly. Fortunately, the fire escape was sturdy and I turned to the three brothers present. "Where's Leo?"

"Tryin' t' chase down the bastards that did this," said Raph. "Now get down there! We'll see ya later."

I nodded and guided Lauren to the escape since she was a bit stunned by the whole ordeal. Donatello came and stood next to me. I looked up at him from where I was crouched preparing to climb down myself. "Be sure to get to the ambulance," he said. "You need the smoke out of your lungs as soon as possible."

"That's not what you were going to say," I told him, "but that'll wait." And with that, I joined Lauren in climbing down the ladders. When we emerged from the alleyway of the building, I pulled Lauren aside and whispered desperately to her "Remember your promise." She nodded at me, but we were swarmed by reporters and medics right after that, so I couldn't say anything more to her. They pulled me to an ambulance and gave me an air mask, which I gladly put on, inhaling the clean air.

A nurse walked out from behind the ambulance carrying a first aid kit and began to inspect my arms to make sure that the cuts I had sustained from the falling debris wasn't too bad. I didn't pay too much attention to her until she said "I did warn you, Ms. Langinstein."

My head shot up and I found myself staring into a pair of deep green eyes surrounded by black hair. I paled, not that it was very noticeable with my face covered and all smudged up. "Karai," I whispered.

A flicker of a smile appeared at the corner of her mouth, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. "Is it safe?" she asked quietly. I knew she wasn't talking about the current situation. She wouldn't have shown up like this in disguise if it were dangerous to come out. If anyone had glanced at us from any other spot in the parking lot, they would have seen a nurse tending a patient. With all the noise, it was a wonder I could hear her even. Plus, I hardly recognized danger outside of a sign that basically said "FATAL. DO NOT TOUCH." Like fire.

"Yes, but you really could have given me a warning first," I told her testily. "I have a sneaking suspicion that this fire may have been because of that."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps it's because you didn't take my advice and beware of who you trusted."

"You never told me that!"

Her eyes narrowed. "Yes I did, you just weren't listening. Perhaps I should not be surprised."

I hesitated and then shrugged. "Yeah, probably not."

Looking back, I believe I may be the only person to make Karai Oroku's eye twitch twice and not get killed for it. An accomplishment, I think. Instead of slitting my throat, she turned her careful grip into a painful vice around my arm, causing me to gasp lightly with pain. She squeezed her fingers hard around my arm and watched the expressions of discomfort flow along my face. "You should be more cautious," she said. Her voice was mild in comparison to the death grip she had on me. Leaning forward she hissed into my ear "Where is it?"

Her eyes were cold. I knew if I pushed her too far, she could have me killed with very little trouble. I swallowed. "My apartment. I haven't touched it since I found out what it was."

"And what is, it, Miss Langinstein?" she asked softly, her eyes boring holes into my mind.

"Power," I said. "Outside of that, I don't know. I haven't touched it other than to move it, like I said."

She pulled away, her eyes watching mine cautiously. Finally she looked away and pulled some bandages out of the kit. "I would suggest you do something to rid yourself of it."

"What, open it and dump out the contents?"

"Possibly."

"Wouldn't that kill me?"

"Possibly."

"Oh, that's reassuring."

"I told you before, what's in there is not something to be tampered with. It's not something that mortals should have in their possession."

I snorted. "Yeah, well, the thing isn't going anywhere anyway. Opening that thing would take…" I thought about it. "I have no idea. It would just take a while."

"You may not have much time now."

My head shot up. "What do you mean?"

"You, my dear, have kicked the proverbial hornet's nest and the biggest one of all is headed towards you."

I bit my lip. "What do you mean?"

She continued not looking up in my face, but continued patching up my other arm. "I think you know very well what I mean. And who." Karai turned my face towards her as though to examine my facial injuries, but she was using the position to hold my gaze and make me shake slightly with trepidation. "Be very, very careful, Irma Langinstein. The Foot does not recruit people unable to do the harsher things in life. Neither do our sibling clans."

With that, she turned and began packing up the First Aid Kit. "I wish you luck. You'll need it." And with that, she walked off, leaving me shaking and possibly as scared as I had been when I thought I was going to burn alive. I did indeed know who she was talking about, but I had to confirm it. I stood up, despite the protests of some of the other attendant nurses, and walked straight over to Francine who was standing not too far away from the firemen trying desperately to control the fire. She saw me coming towards her and beamed at me before walking over to me as well. "Irma! You're okay!"

"Yep! So, do you know of an art professor named Ken Shinobu?"

"I… What?"

"This is important, Franny, I need info here!" Snapping my fingers I kept my voice quick and light, trying to keep her out of the surprise loop or whatever. "Focus, focus! Ken Shinobu, you know everyone on campus, do you know him?"

"Ken… Ken Shin what?"

"Alright, so you don't know him. Guess that answers my question." I did a facepalm and sighed. "So, I'm guessing that there's no art professor by that name."

"Irma, there haven't been any new professors on campus in like, five years. I have no idea who you're talking about."

I nodded and turned around. "Figures. It juuuuust figures." I went back to the ambulance. "Do you have a pillow? Or a blanket?" The guy sitting inside gave me a strange look, but he handed a blanket to me nonetheless. "Thank you," I said, and then proceeded to wad it up and scream into it for about fifteen seconds. I then handed it back to the guy who was looking at me like I was nuts. I ignored him and sat down on the edge of the ambulance and put my head between my hands. I understood now.

Ken Shinobu was just using me to get information. Somehow he knew I was involved and wanted to know more. I was just a tool to him. Whether he was involved directly in the massacre at the warehouse or just wanted whatever I had, I didn't know, but either way he was obviously dangerous, and obviously after me. I didn't know what to do; I couldn't just up and leave, but I couldn't just move to the Lair either.

There was really nothing to do but wait for him to make his move. The police were by their cars, but they were looking over at me like they were going to come over and say something. I had no intention of saying anything to them. They couldn't help me. I stood up again and asked the guy in the ambulance if I could borrow his phone. He said sure, and I called April and Casey's apartment. April answered, and when she heard my voice she almost sobbed with relief, promising she'd be there to pick me up right away.

Were I to tell you that I was in full control of my senses at this point, I'd be lying through my teeth. I sat still while I waited for April, unresponsive and pretty much brain dead. When she finally got there, she had to shake me out of my stupor and drag me to her car; it not because I was being difficult, but because I was completely and utterly drained. I didn't know what happened to Lauren; I only hoped she kept her promise. In the days to come, there was nothing from her about it, no reports on the news or in the papers about a strange eye-witness to walking, talking turtles, so I believe it can be safely assumed that she never said anything to anyone.

The rest of the day was mostly in a stupor. April took me home and waited while I bathed and cleaned up, and then she drove me to a hair-stylist because I vehemently refused to do anything until that was taken care of.

My hair was a complete disaster. It had caught on fire and most of it burned, with just my long bangs on the front framing my face. It didn't look too bad if you were talking to me from the front, but from the sides and back, it looked completely awful. There wasn't much that could be done with it, and it ended up being a pixie cut, which completely broke my heart as I considered my long hair to be my best feature. It wasn't too bad though; I had enough hair left to have layers at least.

Afterwards, I had April take me to a grocery store where I bought a gallon of peanut butter cup and chocolate ice cream before she took me home. "I don't want ANYONE to bother me," I told her. "Tomorrow I'll go down to the Lair, see everyone, let the guys know I'm alive, but right now, I just want to eat my weight in ice cream and SLEEP."

And that was exactly what I did. Except for eating my weight in ice cream. Because that would have been gross.

The next day I got a call from the college. Because the library had burned down, they had no more use for the librarians and were forced to 'let us go', since otherwise we'd just be taking up space. They told me they'd send my next paycheck but that would be it, and I told them that I understood and was fine. Then I went to my bathroom and cried my eyes out again, partially because I had just lost my job, but mostly because my hair had been set on fire and was now short and I had been almost killed three times in the past six months. Also my latest ex was psychotic and pretty sure he was after me.

"Irma," I said to myself, "your life officially sucks."

With that, I went down to the supermarket down the street and bought another pint of ice cream. I figured I could work off the excess calories when I was running around looking for work. Wouldn't that be fun.

Despite having promised that I'd see the boys again soon, they didn't show up for another week. April and Casey, on the other hand, called and texted and came over on impromptu visits, during which time they confiscated my alcohol and made me promise I'd stay away from it. I had only had a few bottles of wine; I couldn't see why they were so worked up about it. Not only that, but they were insisting I go underground again for my own safety. "If they blew up your library, who's to say that they won't try your apartment next?" April argued.

"Noooo! They already took my work, they're not taking my home too!"

"They don't care about your home, they care about your life! Stop being so pigheaded and just go down there for a while!"

But I staunchly refused to give in. Casey was the one who got fed up enough to forcibly remove me from my apartment. He picked me up and put me over his shoulder, ignoring my screams of protest while April followed after us, a hastily packed suitcase full of my things in her hand. He shoved me into his van and drove us to a garage where he parked it, picked me up again (because I was NOT going to give in) and carried me down into the sewer system.

"This is tyranny!" I was shouting. "This is wrongful action against an innocent person!"

"This is us trying to save your ungrateful, stubborn ass!" Casey snapped back at me. "Now shut up and calm down!"

Of course I ignored his commands completely. We arrived in the Lair with Casey still hauling me around, April dragging behind looking exhausted, and myself still protesting strongly. The boys and Master Splinter were waiting for us when we got there, and Raph took me from Casey and, like his human friend, carried me straight to the Nurse's Office, followed closely by Donatello. Mikey managed to get in a brief 'hello' before the door was slammed behind us.

Raph plopped me down on the cot and the sudden jarring coupled with a good forty-five minutes of angry tirade made the remaining smoke in my lungs act up, and I began coughing hard. Raphael kept a hand on my shoulder as I coughed and Donatello brought me a glass of water. "Here," he said. "Drink this." Taking it from him, I managed to swallow some, which eased the discomfort I was feeling in my lungs. Raphael stood up once he saw that I was no longer in danger of hacking up a lung, went out to join the rest of the gang in the Lair to discuss what was going on. He glanced back at me as he was heading out the door, and seemed to want to say something to me. A brief struggle of emotions crossed his face before he glanced at Donny and then slipped out of the room, making sure the door was closed behind him.

Don and I were left alone, him doing a visual examination of my injuries, and me finishing off the water. When I was done, he took it from me and sat it down next to me on the cot. "Are you feeling better?" he asked.

I nodded. "Uh-huh. I'm better. That was the most I've coughed in a while."

"Good," he said, and then he took my face between his hands and drew me to him for a kiss- and it was a damn good kiss. I froze, momentarily stunned by his actions and by the fact that he was kissing me, which I had pretty much just assumed would never happen again, ever. But I got over it soon and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, which allowed him to pull me tight against him, his arms around my waist. This kiss was different than the others we had before; it was a kiss of pure relief, as though every tension, every fear and every worry he had ever had was now gone. When he pulled back, he cupped a hand against my cheek and stared at me like I was the most wonderful thing in the world, and once again, my mouth went dry. This time wasn't from smoke, though. I could feel a deep blush begin to work its way over my face, and had the moment not been so intense I probably would have looked away. And then that controlling and logical mind that made him so smart and unique seemed to give way to something else, and he buried his face in my neck, his shoulders shaking slightly. Confused, I could do nothing but wrap my arms around him tighter.

"When I saw the news about your college burning," he said against my skin, his voice muffled with emotion, "I couldn't breathe or think of anything except all the times that I ran out on you and how I might… might never see you again. All I could see was images of you trapped in there, burning or suffocating and how the last time I heard your voice you were calling for me to come back, and I hated myself."

Once more, the tears sprung unbidden to my eyes and I managed to choke out his name before I buried my own face in his neck. He shifted and kissed my hair and my cheek and my neck, moving me so that I was sitting in his lap and I could be flush against him. "I'm s-s-sorry," I sobbed out. "I u-u-usually ne-never cry, b-but I c-can't he-help it recentl-l-ly for s-s-some re-re-reason."

"It's okay," he whispered against me. "It's alright. Everything is fine now."

I pulled my glasses off and wiped my eyes, still sniffing and blurry eyed, but I smiled at him and he kissed me again. "I'm so sorry," he said to me. "I should never have left you. I was just… scared, I guess."

I gave a tiny laugh. "Yeah, I could tell."

He gave me a little smile back, but then the earnest look came back in his eyes."I won't run again," he said softly. "Maybe all my fears will come true and we won't last and stuff will happen, but…" he seemed to struggle for words before settling on them. "It would be wrong and ridiculously unfair to both of us if I didn't try to work it out."

There was nothing I could do but lay my head against his shoulder and bury my face in his neck again. He rested his head on mine and I said "I've waited a while for you to say that to me."

"I know."

"Only took you four million years."

He laughed lightly and kissed my head again. "Mikey'll be thrilled."

"Why?"

"He set up that Christmas party just to get the two of us together. He's going to be taking the credit for this for the rest of forever."

I burst out into laughter and he joined me, and as we held each other on that little cot in an underground sewer system, I didn't care that my hair had been burned off and that someone was after me and I had almost been cooked alive because I was the happiest that I had ever been that I could remember for a long time.

No, it's not the end of the story, don't worry. And also don't worry about future drama; there's going to be plenty more before the Grand Finale (which isn't going to be drug out, so don't worry about that either). But Irma and Don were walking around looking so depressed and sad that I had to let them get together. They're so lovey-dovey now it's almost sickening. You should totally all review and tell them to give it a break! And also to say what kind of job I've been doing, because this chapter was RI-DIC-U-LOUS to write. I hope you enjoyed it though.

Next up, Irma job hunting… and other stuffs… But I'll leave that up to your imaginations. ;)