Chapter 9 -Questions-

"She's what? Ya mean, she can like, read minds an' stuff?" Raphael stepped back without releasing his grip on her arm, as if she had a disease he was afraid to catch.

"No," said Splinter. His eyes never left Sylvia's face. "She has the ability to… project… certain emotions. Most likely she can sense others' emotions as well?" His eyebrows rose. The girl swallowed, and after a moment, nodded.

"Is that what she did to us? She projected emotions… I felt sort of… peaceful," said Leonardo. "Like she wasn't any threat."

Splinter nodded. "Yes, Leonardo. I suspect she was using her ability to calm you and your brothers, in an attempt to escape. She has an unusually strong and rare gift."

"Well, mebbe she can use her gift to tell us her name, huh?" growled Raphael, losing patience with the conversation. "And what she's doin', sneakin' around our Lair?" The girl shrank from him, beginning to squirm again in his grasp.

"Raph, I think we can let her go. She's not going to try to run again. Are you?" Leonardo looked sternly at her. She stopped squirming, and shook her head. Leonardo let her go. After a moment, Raphael also loosed his grip. She backed away from them, rubbing her arm where Raphael's vice-like fingers had held her.

***

Sylvia's head spun. She'd seen enough of the turtles not to be bothered by their appearance, but the rat… she'd never seen anything like him before. She sensed no malice from him, though, only a seemingly endless calm. Released from the turtles' grip, she relaxed, reassured by his presence. He reminded her vaguely of her own father. It was obvious where the turtles' skill and training came from. The rat was… in some odd way, their father.

When the red-masked turtle demanded her name, she felt a mix of strong emotions from him. Anger was strongest, underpinned by a hint of fear. There was something else, too… Suspicion? Hurt? Yet, it didn't seem directed at her in particular. She had the feeling he reacted to all humans this way. He would be the hardest to get past. The blue-masked one spoke again.

"How did you find us? What do you want?" he demanded. She could feel his anger building. She took another step back, and bumped into the one in orange. She turned and edged away from him.

"Hey, chill, Dudette. I'm Michelangelo. You can call me Mikey. This is Donatello," he gestured. "And you already met Raphael," the one in the red mask glowered, "And Leonardo." Michelangelo's smile was genuine. She met his blue eyes, and liked him immediately. His emotions touched her mind, warm, welcoming, reassuring. The underlying fear wasn't as strong from him.

"Ok, so now ya know who we are," said Raphael. "Now it's yer turn to answer. Who are you? And what're ya doin' here?"

***

"Who are ya? And what're ya doin', sneakin' into our Lair?" asked Raphael again. He took a menacing step toward the girl. She backed away, her silvery eyes widening.

"Don't be afraid, Miss," said Donatello again, his voice even, calm, reassuring. He moved toward her, holding out his hand, as if approaching a spooked animal. "Really, we don't want to hurt you. We just want to know what you're doing here."

"Hey, mebbe she can't talk," said Michelangelo. The girl looked at him, and nodded, looking relieved.

"What? Really? You can't speak?" Leonardo's eye-ridges rose. She touched her throat, and shook her head again.

"You're mute? Really?" Donatello was staring at her as well. She met his eyes, and nodded. "So that's why you haven't answered our questions."

"What do we do now?" Raphael asked. He waved his sai in frustration. "How're we gonna get answers outta her if she can't even talk?"

"I know, she can draw pictures. She can use my pens," said Michelangelo.

Donatello shook his head. "Mikey, she's mute, not illiterate. She can write. You can write, can't you, Miss?" The girl nodded. She smiled at Michelangelo, but it wasn't a sneer. She seemed to genuinely like him.

"Great. We can ask the questions, she can write her answers," said Raphael. Donatello rummaged through his drawer, bringing out a notepad and pen. He held them out to the girl. She took them cautiously, as if still afraid he might attack her.

"Perhaps we should retire to the kitchen," suggested Splinter. "Where we can offer our guest nourishment and a surface to write upon."

"That's a great idea, Sensei. I'm starvin'. I betcha she's hungry, too," said Michelangelo, beaming. He caught her arm. The girl flinched, but didn't try to pull away. He led her out of the lab and to the kitchen, pulling out a chair. The others followed. Reluctantly, she sat down. She set the notebook and pen down on the table and sat with her hands clasped in her lap.

"Ok, Mike, why don't you heat up some pizza while we talk to her," said Leonardo. Michelangelo pulled the pizza box out of the refrigerator.

"What do you Dudes want? There's pepperoni and sausage left."

"We don't need no pizza, Mikey. We need to talk. What is this, anyway, a bed-and-breakfast? We're interrogatin' her, not feedin' her!" snapped Raphael. The girl shrank in her chair, trembling under his glare. Leonardo sighed and sat down at the table.

Donatello took the seat on her other side. "Don't mind him, Miss. Raphael's just… grumpy." He picked up the pen and held it out to her. She took it with trembling fingers. "First, what's your name?" he asked gently.

Sylvia Rose, she wrote. She glanced at Donatello.

"Sylvia. That's a nice name," he said, smiling. "Sylvia, why did you come here?"

I needed the tools. I meant to return them. I'm sorry.

"How'd you find the Lair?" growled Raphael, leaning over the table menacingly. Sylvia shrank back in the chair. Her hand shook as she wrote.

Followed you. Saw Donatello put in the code.

"You followed us?" Raphael stared at her in disbelief. She nodded. "From where?" His eyes narrowed as she hesitated.

The tunnels. I… she paused. Felt Leonardo, injured. You were together, your emotions were strong. I followed you here. I just wanted to borrow the tools. I don't mean any harm. Please let me go. A tear splashed on the paper.

"Oh fer cryin' out loud. Don't start blubberin' all over da place. We ain't gonna hurt ya," Raphael stood up and stepped back from the table.

"Here, this'll make her feel better," said Michelangelo, sliding a plate of pepperoni pizza in front of her. Sylvia glanced nervously at him, but didn't take it.

"It's ok, Sylvia. We know you must be hungry. Is that why you took food as well?" asked Leonardo. Sylvia hung her head, a deep blush creeping up her cheeks.

Yes, she wrote. I was hungry. I'm sorry. I don't want to be a thief.

"Well, you don't have to steal now. Go ahead. Eat," said Leonardo. Sylvia glanced at him, still fearful, but hunger won out over embarrassment and fright. She picked up the pizza and dove in.

"Whatda we do now, 'Fearless'?" asked Raphael. He leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed over his plastron. "We can't exactly let her waltz outta here. She knows how to find the Lair. What if the Foot get hold of her?"

"I don't know yet, Raph," said Leonardo. Sylvia set the slice of pizza down, and stared at him, her eyes wide. She grabbed the pen.

Please… I won't tell anyone. Just let me go. Please!

"We can't do that, Sylvia. You're a danger to us." Leonardo spoke sternly.

Sylvia's hand trembled as she wrote.

What are you going to do with me?

***

A/N

o.o Sorry to leave you (and Sylvia!) hanging like this, but ya know, I've got to have a few cliff-hangers to keep you reading, right? ;)

More soon...