A/N: Hey guys. First of all thank you again for those of you who take the time to review. I really do appreciate it. This chapter is a bit shorter... not by much though. I will be working on the next chapter as often as I can in between searching for a new job and getting more practice in at the local animal shelter. Grooming a dog always takes up so much of my time... especially the dogs there they are always so matted and it takes hours to get them done. It has taught me a valuable lesson though, I'll never let my dogs get like that those dogs are so miserable and you never know what you'll find under those mats. Trust me I've found some pretty disgusting and very sad things on some of them. I had no idea what I was getting into when I decided to go to dog grooming school. LOL. But I've got my finals this week... if I pass I graduate Friday. I have my sister's baby shower to throw Saturday and my Dad's birthday. But if I have time with all that stuff I will update again next Sunday. If I get it done before then I'll post it sooner. Thanks as always for your support guys, I really appreciate it. And now on with the next chapter.

Chapter 6

The office was lit with a single light on the mahogany desk, casting most of the large square room into shadows. A man paced back and forth in front of the desk, his arms clasped behind his back, his large square shoulders were hunched forward, his eyes glaring at the ugly beige carpet. His honey colored hair was sleeked back and parted smartly to one side, his jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles bulged along his jaw line. Occasionally he would pause in his agitated pacing and glare at the black phone that sat silent on his desk, as if willing it to ring.

"What could be taking them so long?" Graham Cooper growled as he began to pace once again.

It had been two days already and no one had found a trace of her. What was wrong with these people anyway? What the hell did he pay them for? To sit around and watch as their growing stomachs made their fat hang over the edge of their chairs?

He growled again, low in his throat. When he got a hold of her again he was going to make sure that she would never get away again! He'd fix her up so good she'd think twice about leaving the house for the grocery store let alone anywhere else!

He'd had all the usual places scoured for her, had even had his boys check her friend's places. Nothing. With each failed recovery of his wife Graham got more and more angry.

How dare she do this to him? How dare she make him worry like this? Where could she have gone? He had friends at the police department and they had all told him that Elizabeth had never come in, but if they found her they'd let him know at once.

Graham was ready to extend the search to surrounding states, perhaps Elizabeth had caught a train or a bus out of town? But no that was impossible – Graham knew that he rationed Elizabeth's money well enough that she would never be able to save up enough to pay for such things. If she had left over money after going to the store Graham would claim it for his own, saying he needed it for his expenses. A few extra drinks down at the bar.

A soft knock echoed throughout the room. Graham's head snapped up and he glared at the door, his steely gray eyes narrowed marginally. "What?" He barked, angry at the interruption.

A small mousey man cracked open the door and peeked around the edge. He had brown hair that was plastered to his head, small watery brown eyes, a short pointed nose, and rather large front teeth. He met Graham's stare for a minute then quickly dropped his eyes to the floor.

"Well come in, Jackson! I don't have all night!" Graham snapped impatiently.

Jackson flinched and made his way into the room, quivering a little underneath Graham's hard gaze.

"Speak you incompetent worm!" Graham demanded. "What news have you brought about my wife?"

Jackson quivered and seemed to have trouble swallowing for a minute, then ever so slowly he lifted his head a little to look up at the man towering over him. "We have searched the entire city, Mr. Cooper. We have found no trace of her."

Graham slammed a meaty fist onto his desk and Jackson jumped, cowering under Graham's gaze now.

"Perhaps you and your friends have just not been looking hard enough. Or… " Graham's voice went very soft, and he cocked his head slightly as if sizing Jackson up. "Or perhaps I just have the wrong men looking for her. Perhaps I should find someone who is more willing to get their hands dirty."

Jackson gulped. "Mr. Cooper – I… we have searched for her high and low. It is like she has vanished."

"I don't believe you and your men have been looking hard enough," Graham growled. "Perhaps your replacements will have better luck."

Graham sneered down at the man and unclasped his hands, his right snaking into the waist of his jeans to remove his .22. He released the safety and cocked the gun, Jackson looked up but before his eyes could even widen in shock a gunshot echoed around the room and Jackson was blown back several feet from the impact. He lay still on the carpet, his head cocked to one side, his face still holding that expression of shock, a bullet wound to his chest seeping a dark red stain onto the carpet.

Graham sighed. He'd have to get that carpet replaced again. He'd have Charlotte order the new carpet on Monday. Perhaps a different color this time. One that wouldn't show such stains so easily. Graham rubbed a hand over his eyes and set the gun down on the desk before reaching for the phone. He punched a few numbers and held the phone to his ear, biting the inside of his cheek while he waited impatiently for the other end to pick up.

Finally on the third ring…

"Hey, it's Graham," Graham said not waiting for a response on the other side. "I'm calling in a favor."

Someone was humming. Elizabeth didn't open her eyes, she waited listening. She heard the soft tap tap tap of flesh on something a bit harder… not wood – but something not fleshy either. Elizabeth frowned, confused. What was that? The humming stopped.

Elizabeth opened her eyes to find herself staring at the now very familiar ceiling. She twisted her wrists and ankles, breathing a sigh of relief when she found them unrestrained.

"Hey, dudette," a warm voice called from beside her. Elizabeth rolled her head on the pillow to stare at this new turtle.

She was positive she hadn't seen him before. He was sitting casually in the chair Donatello usually occupied, the back had been manipulated a bit so that the turtle could lean back, but he was sitting up straight now. His bright baby blue eyes sparkled behind his orange mask and his grin dazzled her a little bit. This turtle radiated such friendliness and excitement that Elizabeth felt instantly at ease with him. This had to be Michelangelo.

She looked him over slowly. She wasn't sure what she had expected when she met this last turtle, the fact that she hadn't meet him until now had made her think that perhaps he felt the same way about her that Leonardo did. But he seemed to take the complete opposite view. He seemed almost… enthusiastic. Elizabeth's eyebrows met together as she stared curiously at him.

Michelangelo's headphones were resting around his neck, hip hop music still blasting from the speakers. Elizabeth's eyes followed the headphone's cord down to Michelangelo's belt and saw what looked like a second hand iPod hooked there.

Michelangelo followed her gaze, grinned, and hit one of the buttons, shutting off the music. Elizabeth's eyes flickered up to meet his eyes again. He chuckled a little and leaned forward, placing a three fingered hand on her arm.

"So how you feeling, dudette? Do you need anything?"

Elizabeth thought about it. She was pretty hungry, having avoided the oatmeal Donatello had given her the night before. But something more pressing came to mind. An unpleasant pressure in her lower abdomen had her blushing. She bit her lip, refusing to look at the grinning turtle.

Michelangelo cocked his head to the side, studying her quietly. "Are you in pain? Should I get Donny?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "No I um… I have to… I have to go." Elizabeth blushed again, she was embarrassed by the heat in her cheeks and could tell Michelangelo was more than a little confused.

"You have to go… ? As in go back home?"

"No… I have to go… " Elizabeth tried again, feeling even more embarrassed now.

Michelangelo's head suddenly snapped up as what she was saying seemed to sink in. "Oh… that's no problem, dudette. Come on – I'll help you."

Elizabeth nodded and felt the turtle's arms help ease her up, she was surprised at how gentle he was. Michelangelo screamed energy, restlessness – there was a spark in his eye and a protective tone his brothers used when they spoke of him. She had no doubt that Michelangelo was the youngest of the four of them.

Elizabeth suppressed a wince as she sat up right, she gasped, clutching at his arm as the room spun sickeningly.

"Um… maybe I should get Donny, Elizabeth," Michelangelo said, tightening his hold around her shoulders. "You look really pale."

Elizabeth shook her head. The less audience she had for this the better. Besides she was determined to get up and use the bathroom. She didn't need a turtle to help her with that. She swung her legs over the edge of the cot and gingerly slid off the edge.

She would have fallen if Michelangelo's arm hadn't snaked around her waist. Her knees shook violently and her legs felt like Jell-O it was a surprise she could stand at all. Michelangelo tightened his grip around her, holding her against his body. Elizabeth didn't protest she had no doubt in her mind that he was the only thing keeping her on her feet. She took a shaky step and nearly fell again.

"This isn't a good idea, Elizabeth. I think I should go get Donny," Michelangelo protested again. His mouth was set in a tight line as he watched her with worried round eyes.

"Michelangelo, please I just… "

"It's Mikey," Michelangelo corrected.

Elizabeth looked at him confused. Had she gotten his name wrong?

Michelangelo smiled at her. "Just call me Mikey. Everyone else does."

Elizabeth smiled back. "Ok – Mikey then. I just really want to get to the bathroom."

Michelangelo's expression darkened slightly, but he nodded once, tightened his grip a bit more and helped Elizabeth as they slowly made their way out of the infirmary.

Elizabeth blinked as they entered the expansive living area outside of the infirmary. It was quite a bit different from last night with all the lights turned on. There was a desk she hadn't spotted the night before that held a large desktop computer, she could see a coffee mug sitting just off to the side on the desk. Donatello's probably.

Several of the TV's were on, tuned into a daytime soap opera. No one seemed to be watching it, the couch was empty and the old faded chair was… Elizabeth did a double take. Was that a rat sitting in the chair? The rat's ears swiveled on his head and he turned slightly to look at her, as if sensing her gaze on him. He blinked, nodded once at Michelangelo then turned back to the TVs to continue watching his show.

Elizabeth looked up at Michelangelo. "There's a rat sitting in your living room."

Michelangelo's face held a very odd expression for a moment. Almost as if she'd said something very offensive to him. Then with some effort his mouth curled up at the corner and he smiled a little. "That's our father – and master. He raised us."

"Did he teach you to fight too?" Elizabeth asked, staring at Michelangelo's belt.

Michelangelo glanced down at his nunchakus, he was so used to them sitting there that he often forgot to remove them. He wasn't surprised that Elizabeth had noticed them, she seemed hyper-aware of everything around her.

"He's trained us so that we could learn to defend ourselves if we ever needed to," Michelangelo said simply, not bothering to go into it further.

Elizabeth bit her lip, more questions begged to be asked but she held them back. She had a feeling that Michelangelo really didn't want to talk about this. She wasn't going to press him.

Michelangelo passed what appeared to be a fairly large kitchen, and then a room that had the door shut, but she could hear someone moving around inside. She looked at it curiously as they passed but Michelangelo didn't say anything.

"Here we are," Michelangelo said pushing open a second door.

Elizabeth's eyes widened in surprise. She hadn't expected this.

The bathroom was by no means large, but it had everything in it that she'd expect if she walked into the bathroom at home. A bathtub sat against the far wall, a pale blue, slightly torn and held together with duct tape, shower curtain had been pushed to one side, a few drops of water fell from the shower head making a slight tinging noise as it hit the basin of the tub. Next to the tub was a toilet, a large crack on the lid, but it seemed to be in fairly good shape. A roll of toilet paper sat on the back, with several more stacked to the side in a neat little pyramid. The mirror over the sink had a large crack in the corner that sent tiny little spider-webbed lines around the edge, slightly distorting her image, but it too seemed in good shape and a bar of soap sat right next to the taps.

Michelangelo pulled the door shut to give her some privacy. Elizabeth looked longingly at the tub. It would feel so good to get cleaned up. She wasn't sure how long she'd been down here but she felt caked with dry blood and sweat and she ached to wash it all away. She knew Donatello would disapprove though so she let the thought drift for her mind as set about her business.

It didn't take her long and soon she was standing in front of the mirror, the hot water from the faucet fogging up the bottom of the mirror while she stared at her reflection. She had dark purple circles under her eyes, the skin over her cheeks looked tighter – making her cheekbones jut out even further. Her long normally well kept hair was snarled and stood up in places. Almost as if she'd poked her finger in an electrical socket. She ran her fingers through her hair and caught a few of the snarls, yanking them out. It didn't help so she stopped.

She turned the hot water faucet down and splashed some warm water on her face, rubbing it against her pale skin. It felt so good. She ran her wet fingers over the top of her head, flattening some of the fly away hairs and looked at her reflection again. She didn't like the girl she saw staring back at her so she looked away, turned off the taps and opened the bathroom door.

Michelangelo was standing against the opposite wall, obviously waiting for her. But he didn't seem to be paying the bathroom much attention. He was frowning at the other door they'd passed, listening to whatever was going on inside. He shifted a little, his shoulders tensing ever so slightly, the adjustment so subtle that if Elizabeth hadn't been watching him she would have missed it.

As if on cue the door opened and Leonardo emerged, dabbing a towel at his sweaty neck. Elizabeth hesitated in the bathroom doorway, she remembered all too well how cold his expression had been the last time she'd seen him.

"Mikey," Leonardo said frowning at his brother. "You're supposed to be on watch with…" He trailed off as he spotted Elizabeth for the first time. His eyes darkened and his jaw tightened. He slung the towel over his shoulder.

"We were just heading back, Leo," Michelangelo said quickly. He turned to Elizabeth with a forced smile and offered her his hand. She shook her head, wrapping her arms around her chest. Leonardo's eyes narrowed and he glared at her angrily his dark brown eyes blazing behind his mask with a stare so intense it made Elizabeth shift uncomfortably. She stared back at him, unable to look away, even when Leonardo's eyes narrowed dangerously. Elizabeth felt her chest tighten and a knot form at the base of her throat making it hard for her to swallow. Her stomach churned uneasily but she couldn't break her gaze from Leonardo's eyes, then suddenly he blinked and she was free again. She dropped her gaze to the floor, feeling a bit winded, which was strange but still she was breathing heavier than normal. Leonardo didn't say anything, but turned and headed towards the stairs, making his way up to the second level much faster than Elizabeth would have thought was possible, and then he was gone.

Michelangelo sighed and rubbed the back of his head. He muttered something that was too low for Elizabeth to catch. Then he turned back to her, his smile more genuine now. "Come on, let's get you back to the infirmary."

"Do I have to?"

Michelangelo paused, cocking an eye ridge at her, obviously surprised.

"It's just I'm… I'm kind of tired of being stuck on my back with nothing to do," Elizabeth explained. She bit the inside of her cheek, hoping that she wouldn't blush again.

Michelangelo seemed to study her for a minute before he grinned, and he laughed. "Guess I can't say I blame you, Liz."

"It's Elizabeth," Elizabeth corrected, making a face at the nickname.

Michelangelo's laughter died quickly and an odd expression crossed his face.

"I like Elizabeth," Elizabeth explained. No need to go into detail about Graham calling her Liz and Lizzy. Those nicknames made her stomach clench uneasily.

"Ok," Michelangelo said uncertainly. "Elizabeth then. We could probably set you up on the couch if you want. Master Splinter's soap opera is almost over anyway. Do you like action movies?"

Elizabeth grinned. "What ones do you have?"

Michelangelo's face lit up again and he wrapped his arm around her waist. She leaned on him as they made their way slowly across the large room to where the entertainment center was set up.

Credits were rolling across the screens of the many TVs that were on and the gray rat was standing slowly, as if his whole body ached. Michelangelo's grip on Elizabeth wavered for a moment.

"Master Splinter?"

"I'm fine, Michelangelo," Splinter said patiently. His dark brown eyes traveled to Elizabeth's face and held her gaze for a minute. Then, unexpectedly, he smiled at her. "I hope you are feeling better, Ms. Elizabeth."

Elizabeth was taken aback. She had never been addressed like this before. She smiled back, though she could feel the shock on her face. "Much better – thank you, sir."

Splinter nodded at her, and turned stiffly to walk to a paper rice sliding door. Michelangelo helped Elizabeth to the couch and eased her down.

"You want something to eat, Elizabeth? Donny said you didn't eat much of that oatmeal last night."

Elizabeth flinched. She had been right – Donatello had noticed. Her stomach protested its emptiness but Elizabeth didn't feel like eating anything. She stared down at her knees, clasping her hands together.

"Hey – you ok? Should I get Donny?" Michelangelo asked, crouching down in front of her and peering up at her with worried eyes.

Elizabeth shook her head.

Michelangelo sat back on his heels deliberating. His first instinct was to run and get Donatello but when tears splashed down Elizabeth's cheeks he hesitated.

"He… he hates me doesn't he?" Elizabeth finally whispered.

Michelangelo frowned. "Who?"

Elizabeth gulped and turned to look over at the stairs where Leonardo had disappeared. Michelangelo followed her gaze and sighed. He turned back to her, his eyes much softer than before.

"Leo doesn't hate you, Elizabeth. He's just worried. He doesn't know if someone topside is looking for you – or what it'll do to our family if they find out where you are. You aren't the first person we've had down here, but this isn't our first home either. We've been uprooted several times and it gets harder and harder for us to find a new place to stay. Raph didn't give Leo any warning when he brought you down here, and it caught him by surprise. But he doesn't hate you. He's angry with Raph not you."

"But he… " Elizabeth tried, swallowing back the lump in her throat. She wasn't sure if she could put her feelings into words. The way Leonardo looked at her honestly scared her sometimes.

Michelangelo was sympathetic. He'd been on the recieiving end of Leonardo's angry side himself and whenever Leo got like this he wasn't someone you wanted to cross. It was just best to stay out of his way.

"That's just the way Leo is when he's worried. It has nothing to do with you," Michelangelo assured her.

Elizabeth stared into his eyes for a very long time, then finally she blinked, nodded, and turned away.

"So, " Michelangelo said grinning and straightening up. "You want me to fix something to snack on while you pick the movie?"

"You never did get around to telling me what movies you have."

"Well that depends," Michelangelo said seriously.

"On what?"

"On whether or not you like superheroes."

"I'll look over it again in the morning, Raph." Donatello said, wiping his hands on an oily rag. It looks like the drain pipe might be loose."

Donatello walked back into the lair, shaking his head. If one thing wasn't broken it was something else. It seemed as if the work just never ended for him. He had oil splotches all over his face, hands, and plastron after working underneath the battle shell for the past hour. Raphael had said the engine had sounded funny when he'd taken it out earlier – and it was only later they had discovered the oil leak.

Donatello needed to get cleaned up then take over the vigil from Michelangelo. The youngest turtle had been watching Elizabeth far past the time he'd been assigned, but Donatello had lost track of the time.

"LOOK OUT!"

Donatello turned automatically to the entertainment center and was surprised to see Michelangelo plopped on the couch, his eyes glued to the screen as Hugh Jackman turned around and three sharp metal claws shot out of his hand, turning the tides on his would be assailant. Where was Elizabeth? Had Leonardo taken over the watch while he and Raphael were busy with the battle shell?

Donatello popped his head into the infirmary to see the cot empty, the sheets and blanket tossed aside carelessly.

Donatello turned back towards Michelangelo. "Mikey, where is… ?"

"Shh… Donny, you're interrupting the best part," Michelangelo hissed.

Donatello frowned. "Michelangelo!"

"You're going to wake up Elizabeth. Keep your voice down, Donny."

Donatello's eyes widened in surprise and he stepped up to the back of the couch.

Michelangelo was leaning back casually, one arm draped over the back of the couch, the DVD remote resting on his leg while his other hand held onto a bowl of popcorn. Elizabeth was curled up on the couch beside him, her head resting against Michelangelo's leg, just barely touching it, but her breathing was deep and even.

"She didn't want to stay in the infirmary anymore so I put in a movie. She fell asleep halfway through Spider-Man," Michelangelo explained.

"Dat wuss?" Raphael asked as he made his way to the bathroom. He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"As long as she hasn't torn those stitches again," Donatello said quickly before Michelangelo could retaliate and wake Elizabeth.

Michelangelo was frowning after Raphael, but he looked back at Donatello reluctantly. "She hasn't moved, Donny. I'll keep an eye on her."

"Thanks, Mikey – has she eaten anything?"

"I made her some soup earlier," Michelangelo said gesturing to an empty soup bowl. "I wasn't sure if she was up to anything more solid than that."

Donatello frowned as Elizabeth shivered a little underneath the blanket Michelangelo had draped over her. Michelangelo pulled the blanket tighter over her shoulders.

"Hey, Donny?"

"Yeah, Mikey?" Donatello was still frowning at Elizabeth.

"Does she seem… uh, skinnier than she should be to you?"

"She's definitely under weight," Donatello said seriously. "I noticed it when Raph first brought her in. And the fact that she didn't eat much of the oatmeal last night speaks volumes since she hasn't eaten for over a day."

"Do you think she's doing it on purpose?"

Donatello shook his head. "I don't know, Mikey. Maybe her stomach just isn't up to handling very much right now. There could be a number of reasons."

"Did Raph go to… ?"

"Yeah he did – I'll help her when she wakes up. Be sure to let me know if those stitches get torn, Mikey."

"Don't worry, Donny." Michelangelo reassured his brother with a quick smile. He turned back to his movie, popping a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

Don't worry. That's easy for Mikey. Donatello thought with a slight smile and a shake of his head as he turned towards his lab. As long as Elizabeth was fine for now and wasn't about to tear those stitches he might as well get some work done. He was pretty far behind on the repairs he had to do for the many things that managed to break around the lair – and there was that camera in the north tunnel that had been malfunctioning…

The list in Donatello's head grew as he picked up his duffel bag and began to pack some tools into it. The loose drain pipe in the battle shell was just one among the many things that required his attention and if he had a break from his doctoring duties he'd take it. Michelangelo didn't seem to mind watching Elizabeth. Donatello didn't think he would. Michelangelo just wasn't like that – he was always eager to make new friends.

A streak of orange darted out from underneath his desk chasing a ball of lint.

"Klunk!" Donatello shouted when Klunk almost knocked over a glass beaker. The orange cat paused, looked over his shoulder at Donatello, flicked his tail then trotted over to the couch where he leapt up beside Michelangelo and settled down on the arm of the couch, kneading his claws contentedly in the soft material and cushioning.

Donatello sighed, shouldered his bag and grabbed his large flashlight. It was a wonder he got anything done between three brothers and a stray alley cat. But still things didn't get fixed by themselves. He knew he'd have a few hours to get some of these things done before their evening training session. So first things first – security. Donatello glanced once more at his younger brother, shrugged to himself, and left the lair to go fix the security camera in the north tunnel.