Victoria clutched her jacket firmly against her lap, eyes trained downward with intense anxiety. She was worn out from the emotions of the evening, yet she couldn't bring herself to leave the hospital. The woman had been urged at least twelve times over the last three hours to go back to their hotel with a couple of agents, but refused to budge.

Michael was involved with the local officials, gathering as many details as they presently knew. Victoria wanted no part of the formalities; she was only waiting to hear what he'd found out. She held on to his cellphone for safekeeping, and she wished it would ring. Victoria longed for Jenna to call again, and confirm she was really all right.

"Vic."

A quiet voice calling her name pulled the woman out of inner thoughts, and she glanced up as Michael came towards her.

"Michael. What do they know? Tell me everything. What happened with the agents at the Gold Falcon?" She was suddenly wide awake and urgent.

He slowly lowered himself into the chair beside her. "All of their symptoms are closely related, and the lab work has been sent off. They put a rush on it, so hopefully we'll get some answers soon. Every agent has the same story, claiming the events of yesterday are pretty much a blur. Nobody remembers passing out, but that's clearly what happened."

"They were drugged? Those men were in a secure area. How could anyone possibly have gotten to the Secret Service?"

"No one has the answer. All I can tell you for certain is what they found at the scene. The seven of them, that's eight if you include Owen, were found unconscious and bound in the hotel room."

"Have you told anyone what Jenna said about Owen?"

"No, not yet. I want to keep it between us for the moment. At least, until I figure out who we can trust to look into this."

"We have to figure it out before she ends up dead," Victoria insisted brokenly. "If that man is working against us, we need to know now."

"I agree, believe me." He sighed wearily. "I've done a lot of thinking over the last couple of hours. According to Jenna's friend, those men knew Owen was staying at the Gold Falcon. But they didn't know how to get there? It doesn't make any sense, not if they had already hit the hotel to cut them off from the meeting. Even if, God forbid, they had a second team involved, why couldn't they get directions from them? Why risk threatening another civilian?

"It doesn't add up. The more I've thought about it, the more I'm inclined to believe this conspiracy theory. Both times now, when Jenna's safety has been threatened, it was under Owen's watch."

"Then might I suggest we get someone to start looking into the man?" Victoria quietly urged.

Michael nodded with visible regret. "You're right. I know you're right. I wish we could use our own people for this, but we have no idea if anyone else is working with him. I'll go back to the FBI with the information Jenna gave me, but we have to keep this whole thing under-wraps. We can't talk to anybody about our suspicions yet. And if we're forced to come in contact with Owen, we have to pretend like everything is normal."

"Normal," Victoria said wistfully. "I just hope we can be normal again someday."

It was after 1pm when Luke stirred groggily, sitting up carefully on his elbows. It took him a couple of seconds to recognize where he was, and for the night to come rushing back to him. He massaged his temples briefly, while resisting the temptation to shake his head. What was I thinking?

"Hey, Doc," a familiar accent greeted him.

He glanced up to see Jenna coming towards him. "Hi. What time is it?"

"Early afternoon. How are you feeling?"

"Stupid," he answered shortly, and gingerly drew both legs over the side of the bed. When he caught sight of Leonardo across the room, instant concern seized him. "How's he doing?"

"Leo's okay. He came around a couple hours ago. Master Splinter wants him to rest today, but you've got your freedom, Luke. He trusts you to use your best judgment."

Like the judgment that almost got me killed?

"Well, I'm a little sore," he admitted. "But I'm ready to get up. Is April still around?"

"Yeah, she's out with the other guys in the living area. I'm keeping watch over Leo for now, so why don't you at least get something to eat?"

Luke walked out of the Lab, and found April, Raph, and Mike sitting on the couch like Jenna had said. They were huddled a little close together, voices muffled so one could have heard what they were saying outside the group.

"Luke." April got to her feet when she saw her him. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay. Feeling it a bit, but I'm all right."

"Could you eat?"

"I think I definitely could."

"Great, sit down with the guys. Can I make you a sandwich? There are leftovers from Mike's pot roast last night."

"Sounds good - thanks."

The young man sank down on the couch beside the orange-masked turtle. Luke instantly noticed an interesting gleam in the turtle's eye. "What were you guys talking about?"

"Don and Jenna," Mike explained quietly, and motioned for Luke to keep his voice down as well.

"Okay, so what exactly did you walk in on with the Lounge the other night?" Raph asked Luke.

"I didn't see anything," Luke said honestly. "But there was something going on there."

"I know it! " Raph struggled to control his volume. "We all see it. But if it's left up to them, I don't think anything will happen!"

Luke gave the two turtles a stern look. "Has anybody talked to either of them about this?"

"I tried," Mike defended. "Jenna changed the subject, and Donnie closed it."

"But just 'cause they don't wanna talk about it doesn't mean they're not into each other," Raph countered.

"We can't force them to do anything," Luke pointed out.

The red-masked turtle grinned. "I'm not sayin' we try to force it. I think they need a little helping along."

"Does anybody know how to do that covertly? I'm not an expert on this kind of thing," Luke warned him.

Mike shook his head doubtfully. "Donnie's not about to be pushed into it."

"They need to be set up in a comfortable place, and they have to think they're doing it on their own," Raphael suggested. "It's sort of like...reverse psychology."

"Did you get you doctorate already?" Mike teased him with a smirk. All he earned for the jab was a swat on the back of the head.

Raph scowled. "Seriously, Mikey. If they're set up in the right situation, without any kind of pressure, they might get down to it."

"We need to think of an excuse to get them out of here together," Luke allowed. "After the way I spooked them the other night, I'd be hard-pressed to think..." He trailed off when he saw Donatello appear at the top of the stairs.

Swiftly the three of them shifted to act natural. Luke and Mike sat back further from each other, and Raphael reached for the TV remote. If Don noticed them acting strangely from upstairs, he didn't comment on it.

"Hey, Doc, guys," he said warmly enough. At Luke's probing gaze, the turtle raised his hands defensively. "Don't start with me. I'm not the one who fought with terrorists last night."

"Is that what you think it was?" Luke laughed. "Calling it a fight implies I got a piece of them too."

"Oh, you got a piece of them, Doc. They just don't know it yet," Donnie asserted.

"Hey, Don, are ya hungry?" Mike inserted. "April is making a sandwich for Luke. You should eat too."

"Yeah, sure, Mikey."

While Michelangelo trotted off to the kitchen to ammend the order, Donatello sat down by Doc and gave him a once over of his own. "How are you doing?"

"Sore. So this is what the morning after feels like, huh?"

That got a chuckle from both remaining turtles.

"Welcome to our world, Doc. Is Leo okay?"

"Sounds like it. Jenna said your Sensei wants him to take it easy today. He was still asleep in the Lab, the last I knew. I realize you've been through this before, but I'd like to compare notes on some physical therapy later. If this dislocation is a recurring injury, it might need to be handled differently. You could go see him in the meantime, but I think you should eat first. I also want take a gander of that shoulder."

"A gander?" Raph repeated.

"That's the southern boy coming out of me. C'mon, Donnie, let me see."

Donatello pulled his arm out of the sling so that Luke could get his hands on it.

"How's it feeling today?"

"It feels fine. I didn't lift anything, or do anything really strenuous with the muscle last night. How does it look?"

"Pretty good, actually. You should lay off of it for a couple more days, just to be safe. Then you can look at easing back into your regular training."

"Seriously?"

Luke laughed at his enthusiasm. "Yes. But I still want you to focus on extra rest. You had a hard night, and you're still getting over infections. Save the drop-kicks and jumping jacks for a couple more days."

"Make sure you sign off on the permission slip for my Sensei. Shell, I'm ready to get back to it."

"Permission slips?" Luke echoed. "Are those an actual thing?"

Donnie cracked up again. "I think they'd go along well with the ten page contract you're writing. I'll sign anything that gets me back into the dojo."

"I've been working out harder for the both of us," Raph spoke up without turning from the TV.

"I can see that." Don somehow maintained a straight face.

Raphael tossed a throw pillow at him. "Hey, we'll see who whips who when you get back to work, okay, braniac?"