Chapter 7 -It'll Be All Right-

"Don? Raph? Mike? This is Leonardo. Come in." Donatello slapped a hand over the shell cell, muffling the noise with a muttered curse. The three were half way down the fire escape, moving in on their target.

"This isn't a real good time, Leo. What's the matter?"

"Guys… you've gotta come home." Leonardo's voice sounded strained, his breathing shallow and ragged, as if he were out of breath. "She's too much for me, I can't carry her, and Don, I think her arm's broken. It's bent… kinda funny."

"What? Who? Is April hurt?" Donatello's mind went into high-gear, ticking over the first aid supplies he'd need to aid their human friend.

"No, Don, it's a strange girl. I've never seen her before. She was in the Lair. I chased her, and she fell. She's out cold. I need help."

"A stranger was in our Lair?" Donatello's voice was strained. Michelangelo stared at him from the step below, his blue eyes wide. Raphael swore under his breath, fingering his sais. He glanced longingly toward the door the three Foot soldiers had disappeared through.

"We're on our way, Leo," Don said into the cell. "We'll track your location. Just keep your shell cell on, ok?"

"No problem Don."

The three brothers didn't need to talk. They made their way back up the fire escape to the rooftop.

"Let's head for the manhole at Tenth and George Streets," said Donatello, looking at the screen of his shell cell. "That manhole will drop us down only about six blocks from Leo's signal."

Raphael's eyes went wide with surprise. "Holy shell, Don, what's Leo doin' that far from the Lair? I thought 'Fearless' was supposed ta be takin' it easy."

"Apparently he chased this… girl," said Donatello with a shrug. "Come on, we've got to see what's going on." The three dropped to the alley, disappearing silently down the manhole and into the sewers.

***

"Don't worry, Sylvia, when the bandages come off, you'll be good as new. There's nothing money can't buy, nothing too good for you, Baby…" Jon's voice echoed strangely, as if he were talking from far away. Sylvia turned to look at him, but the bandages covered her eyes. Good as new? She'd never speak again. How was that good? The heat that seared her face scorched her throat, damaging her vocal chords beyond repair, even beyond what Jon Dejorn's money could buy.

"It'll be ok, Sylvia, you'll see. The doctor assures me your face won't be scarred at all." Jon sounded so sweet in that moment, so sensitive. She could almost believe he cared for her. Almost. Sylvia knew better. The man who she'd fallen in love with was a lie. She'd seen the real Jon, and he was neither kind nor interested in anything that did not directly benefit himself.

She sensed the doctor's approach. She liked the doctor. He was a nice young man, with warm hands and a soft voice. His emotions were dampened by long interaction with patients and their families. His presence was easier to bear than Jon's.

"How are you feeling, Sylvia?" asked the doctor, approaching the bed. She turned her face toward him, knowing he didn't expect an answer. He always spoke when entering her room, to let her know he was there. "We'll be taking Sylvia's bandages off, Mr. Dejorn. Do you want to stay?"

"Yes. I want to be here. In case she needs me." Sylvia wanted to shake her head, but she knew it would cause an argument, and Jon would win. He wanted to be there, and Jon always got what he wanted. She did not have the energy to argue, especially without the use of her voice. She sat still and submitted to the doctor's gentle hands, unwinding the length of gauze that covered the newly-grafted skin on her face. The light was too bright as her eyes were uncovered, and she blinked, trying to focus.

***

Leonardo knelt in the tunnel beside the unconscious girl. He turned her over, careful of her arm. It stuck out at an unnatural angle.

"Who are you?" he whispered. He smoothed back a tendril of jet-black hair that had escaped the braid she wore. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"Leo!" Donatello's voice echoed in the tunnel.

"Here, Don," Leonardo waved his hand. His brothers hurried up.

"Whoa, Leo, what'd ya do ta her?" Raphael had his sais in his hands. He stood squarely, looking down at his brother with a sardonic grin.

"It's not funny, Raphael. She was in the Lair. I caught her sneaking out the door. She ran, and I chased her. She fell."

"Well, she's got a compound fracture of this arm," Donatello straightened the limb in question with one quick movement, making the others wince. He glanced up. "Best to do that now, while she's unconscious," he explained. "It's a clean break, it should heal up ok, but we'll have to get her back to the lab so I can set the bones properly."

Raphael moved to take the girl's legs. Donatello slid his hands under her shoulders. "Mikey, steady her arm. We can't have it just dangling," instructed Donatello. Michelangelo lifted the limb gingerly, as if he were afraid it might come off. The motley group made their way carefully through the sewers, back toward the Lair Sylvia had fled.

***

"The surgery was very successful, Sylvia," said the doctor.

"But she's still got the scar," protested Jon, sounding angry. Sylvia shrank instinctively from him. He was frowning.

"It will fade," said the young doctor hastily. "The skin is brand-new. It will take time for the color to even out. But, within a few weeks, it will match her natural skin-tone. You won't even see the scar. You'll be good as new, Sylvia."

"Good, good," said Jon, smiling. The room seemed to light up, as if all were right with the world. Even the doctor was fooled. He smiled back, responding to Jon's charm. Jon could be a very likable man, when he wanted to be.

Sylvia moaned, turning… The doctor was melting… fading before her. Jon stepped back into shadow, leaving her alone in a pool of light. She lay on an operating table, alone.

"You owe me, Sylvia…I saved your life." Jon's voice was fading, as if he were calling from across a vast space. Other voices, strange voices, spoke in the emptiness…

"Is she gonna be ok?"

"I don't know, Mikey. I've set her arm, but she whacked her head pretty hard. We just have to wait to see if she wakes up."

"I hope she'll be ok. She's pretty."

"What the shell was she doin' in the Lair?"

"She had some of Don's tools in a bag. And a couple pieces of pizza. I guess she got hungry while she was robbing us."

"She took my tools?"

"Yeah. It's ok, Don, I got them. They're in that bag."

Sylvia felt as if she were listening to a badly tuned radio. The voices kept fading in and out, first from far away, then nearer.

"Hey, this is the wrench I took with me by mistake the other day, when I went to work on that camera. Huh, weird."

"What would she want with Donny's tools?"

"More importantly, how'd she find us?"

"Yeah, and what're we gonna do with her?"

"I know what I'd like ta do wit' her."

"Raphael!"

Emotions flowed through the room. Curiosity, confusion, fear, there were too many for her to sort out and identify. Violence, anger, a touch of lust… She'd felt those emotions before, from Jon, when he'd hit her. The emotions touched her, raw, threatening. Her mind cried out in horror, her own fear clutching at her heart. Her eyes snapped open, and she struggled to sit up.

She realized several things in a rush. First, she was lying on a table in the room she'd found the tools in. Second, four angry human-sized turtles were flanking either side of the table. And third, she was trapped.

***