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Disclaimer: I don't own the Ninja Turtles (I wish)

A harsh light erupted behind them, and they all had just a moment to tense, before "Where have you been?!" Leonardo was knocked harshly off his feet, grip tightening around the precious cargo he carried.

"We were- uh-" Raphael was promptly cut off as he was grabbed by the throat, lifting off the ground for a short moment, before being dropped down, the unconscious human girl nearly being knocked from his arms. She gave a soft yelp.

"I- um- need ta get to my lab-" Donatello's feet were knocked out from under him. The girl's injured shoulder slammed into the concrete floor, and she gave a loud gasp and yelped loudly, her eyes flying open for a moment. He was relieved to see, though, that she was still unconscious- her gaze was extremely unfocused and glazed over.

Michelangelo was the last to be thrown down as he spouted something about sleep walking. "You disobeyed a direct order!" their adoptive father snapped. "Why did you go above ground?! What happened!" the flashlight was whipped around to shine in each of their faces, and they all averted their gazes. This was when their sensei noticed their 'guests'. "Oh no… my sons, what have you done?!"

The unnamed girl in the second oldest grasp was panting, wheezing, her blank eyes wide and unblinking. He noticed with fear her eyes were clouding, becoming white, and her skin was taking on a sickly yellow tint. The poison was working fast. He ran another scan; it indicated she had three minutes and counting. "Sensei, you- you don't understand!" normally he would never speak up to his father when he was so angry, but there were four lives about to be lost. "Poison… antidote… I... we-"

Splinter's gaze hardened, eyes narrowing, but he gave a curt nod, and watched as his four children rushed for the area of the residence genius' experiments and whatnot. He was still angered, immensely so, but at the same time, he was proud of his children. They had done the… morally, correct thing. He'd raised them to always do what was right, no matter what. However… at the same time, he'd also raised them to stay in the shadows, to reveal themselves to none. Yes… there would definitely be a dreadful trip to the Hashi when he was done with them.

"Ok, hurry, hurry!" Donatello carelessly swept an entire tabletop of notes, papers, and various electronic tidbits onto the floor, laying her limp body down. "Two minutes left!" she was shivering now, shaking, shuddering in misery. The scan indicated her temperature shooting up. Her breath was coming in shallow, helpless puffs, gasping and feebly desperate.

"Uh, antidote, antidote, antidote…" he mattered anxiously to himself, searching frantically over the seemingly endless shelves. "Copper nitrate… sodium phosphorous compound… where is it?!"

"What's it look like?!"

"Pink liquid, round base, three by six inch beaker!" no, no… no! Where was it?! "…I got it!" he held up the bottle, and all four crowded around the girls. They were all looking discolored, trembling, and their eyes were looking a bit sunken. "We're loosin' em! Forty five seconds!"

"Well hurry up brainiac!"

He fumbled to load the syringe. There was no time to get one for each; the risk of infection was the least of their problems right now. He scrambled to slide the needle into each of their necks; they whimpered in pain and tried to squirm away, as he didn't exactly have the time to be gentle and precise. As long as he hit a main artery.

He arrived at the final one, the one he'd carried… the one he'd briefly comforted. She literally had seconds left to live; her life was literally in his hand. He felt his head tilt on its own accord, observing her pale, blotchy face. Even though she was on the brink of death, she was… cute. Pretty.

Reaching out subconsciously, he slid his hand under her head, cradling it in his unnaturally large palm. Her silky caramel brown hair brushing against his fingers teased his sensory touches unlike anything he'd ever felt. He felt frozen on the inside. He was well aware of his body moving, but he didn't feel like he was in control.

"Donnie, she needs that antidote now!"

Something inside him jolted, and his thumb lifted, hand tilting her head to the side so her neck was visible as he brushed her stray hair away. He lifted the needle, and instead of (slightly) recklessly jamming it in, he positioned it above her main artery, carefully sliding the needle in, pushing down on the syringe gently.

Three. Two…

The girl gave a subconscious sigh of relief. His diagnostics diagram suddenly became much more comforting; it was working. Her yellowing complexion began to brighten, and all tension eased from her body like liquid. Then, slowly, she gave a sighing, humming sound in her throat, and leaned her face into his touch. He froze as her cheek rubbed against his palm, and he could feel her delicate, soft breaths against his skin. She turned her head, burying her face in his skin, and he could see the corners of her mouth pulling up in a sleepy, unconscious smile. He was vaguely aware of his other hand moving up, moving her hair fully out of her face, stroking the top of her head with gentleness he'd never used before. He took in her face.

"…on…?" the voice sounded far away; surely it could wait.

She was very beautiful, with her heart shaped face, the flooding of golden freckles on her cheekbones and splashing across her nose…

"…nie…?"

Her lips were the perfect size, and though they were chapped and dry from stress, they were the perfect soft peachy pink color…

"…ello…?" still so echoey and far off; somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered who it was.

He'd just reached to touch her other cheek when someone slugged his arm.

"Yo genius! Snap out of it!"

"Ow…" rubbing his sore arm, he glared at Raphael. "What is it?"

"Can we take 'em back yet or not?"

"No," he answered immediately. Again, it was like something else was controlling him. He shook his head and composed himself, going on to explain. "There's still poison in their systems- it needs time to be flushed out. If we transport them now, the stress on the body could cause a relapse, and that was my only antidote. I'd need another sample of the poison to synthesize more. And her wounds are still open; not to mention there's a possibility of a wide range of unknown side effects."

"Side effects?!" Leo demanded. "You mean to tell me this could end up hurting them more?"

He frowned. "No. They'd be dead right now without it." They all gave him glares. "What? I said I'd synthesized an antidote- I never said anything about a perfect antidote."

"So… what?" the hot tempered one demanded. "We just keep 'em as pets or sometin'?"

"No. Just until they're stable and have made full recoveries; if I monitor them, I can account for possible poisonings in the future."

"When will that be?"

He shifted his gaze to his only little brother. "I'm… not sure. What… don't look at me that way! I've never tested the antidote on a victim before!"

"What about when they wake up?" Raphael demanded. "And they find out they're in the sewers with a bunch'a mutant freaks?"

"I'll… find a way to make them calm. Maybe I can find a way to stimulate their brains to not send out feelings of distress or fear-"

"Save us the brainiac blabber," he dismissed boredly. "Fine. Say we keep 'em. You gonna just leave them on yer table forever?"

"Of course not. She needs somewhere to rest, somewhere suitable, to avoid putting any strain on her muscular and nervous systems."

"Oh don't tell me…"

"Afraid so. It's the right thing to do."

While the oldest two had a glaring contest, Donatello stepped away from the table, retrieving a medical kit. They still needed their wounds closed and treated. The girl whimpered and frowned as his hand left her, setting her head down on the cold metal. Her head shifted left and right, searching for the comforting warmth again. Her brow crinkled, her eyelids squeezed, and she gave a cry as if she'd been stuck with a pin. Her face was going pale.

"Hmm…" curious, he touched one finger to her cheek, and she relaxed. When he pulled away, her discomfort returned. Deciding to experiment, he touched her ankle. The same reaction. He pulled away, and finally, laid his much larger hand over her tinily delicate one.

Without warning, her hand grabbed onto his, her five nimble fingers wrapping around his first finger in a death grip. Her knuckles turned white from the intensity of the grip. To a human, it probably would have hurt, but her touch sent a wave of odd warmth through him.

She moaned as if in pain, and her lips parted. Her pink tongue poked up and moistened her lips, making them glisten in the overhead lighting. "You…" her voice was scratchy, hoarse, but still softly pleasant. Her eyes didn't give any indication of opening, and her tone itself was sleepy, sluggish and slurring, as if she'd been heavily drugged. She was still unconscious. He felt her pointer finger retract its hold and stroke his skin once. He shivered. "Its you…"

Then, as if it had never happened, her body went slack once again, and her arm fell, her fingers loosening. He numbly let his hand fall with hers, his thumb stroking her fingers gently. It was almost… hypnotic, feeling her soft skin beneath his rough scales.

"Uh… dude? Your doin' it again."

"Huh? What?" he lifted his head. "Doing what?"

"You totally just started pettin' her and spacing out, dude," Michelangelo said. "Again."

He chose to ignore him, and hopefully the warm feeling tingling in his cheeks. "Let's just get them patched up and put to bed; they need to rest and recuperate."

Seeming to let it go- at least, for the moment- they agreed. He carefully cleansed the wounds, trying to ignore their unconscious hisses of pain from the peroxide and stitches. They each had a bullet wound, thankfully nothing serious or extra-damaging, but they definitely wouldn't be using certain appendages for a while. He was glad, in a sense, that the bullets were designed to dissolve into poison upon entering the body; he didn't know if he could handle having to remove a bullet from a living, breathing body. Let alone four.

Once they were all done, bandaged to the best of his ability, they each took a girl, minding her injuries and bandages. He was the last to move, reluctant to remove his hand. But she needed this. Carefully easing his hand beneath her head, cradling it gently, he slid his other arm beneath her knees, politely minding her dress, lifting her up. She was a featherweight, both in human standards and when compared to his superhuman strength, so it was hardly a struggle; if anything, he was worried he'd drop her, she just seemed so insignificantly tiny. He held her close against his plastron a moment, carefully adjusting her so she'd be comfortable. She gave a sleepy sigh and laid her head against his bicep, and again he could feel her fragile, dainty breath on his skin. It made him shiver.

Making sure she was secure, he carried her out of the lab, movements fluid and careful and tender, desperate not to jostle her. This poor girl had been through enough already as it was; the last thing she needed was to be woken up. He couldn't tell if she was asleep or physically unconscious, but he could worry about that when she was stable and comfortable. He'd have to get to work on an anesthetic; as much as he hated the idea of drugging someone, an innocent no less, he was prepared to take any precautions for his family.

He entered his own bedroom, carefully shifting her into one arm to pull back the royal purple comforter. He carefully laid her down, first setting her head on the pillow, then easing the rest of her body onto the mattress. He propped her bad shoulder up on a stray pillow, then carefully tucked her in. She looked very peaceful lying there, and even tinier; naturally his bed was massive to accommodate his six foot something frame, and her frail, petite body looked so out of place… it made him smile weightlessly. He seemed to be doing a lot of that today.

After ensuring her comfort and running another diagnostic test, discovering she was, indeed unconscious, and probably wouldn't be anywhere near actual consciousness for a good fifty eight hours, he exited to allow her some proper rest. He left the door open just a crack, so should she cry out or relapse, he could hear and come check on her.

No sooner had he stepped into the living room area did he feel eight eyes on him. "Ah… perfect," instantly he was on edge. "Donatello, so nice of you to join us. And now that we're all here… to the Hashi!"

They all groaned.

Reyna: Dude, they're so in for it!

Mikayla: Ray, they saved our lives:

Me: You two, back to the story! D:

Reyna: Review, or else! XD