Chapter Five: It Ain't Easy…

Michelangelo had been afraid something like this was going to happen. It was apparent, he surmised, that his life would never be simple. About half way through the trek to Penny's apartment Mikey had felt the fedora start to loosen with every small gust of wind that whipped past him. He'd been able to keep his head down, the wind at his back thankfully not strong enough to displace the low pulled hat. He'd known though, that once he turned to hand her the groceries, he'd be in trouble. He'd tried to move fast, to unload everything onto her waiting hands as quickly as he could. But the wind had picked up suddenly, and Mike hadn't had even a millisecond of a chance to keep the well-worn fedora from flying off his head.

He'd locked eyes with Penny, knowing (but perhaps hoping he was wrong) what was about to happen. She did not disappoint. Her scream was expected, predicted, and not at all a surprise.

"Well, shit," He hissed, grimacing down at her, annoyed with the wind and the girl and his damn bleeding heart. He should have just minded his own business and let her carry her mountain of groceries on her own- it was clear that she'd done so before.

Penny dropped a few bags at her feet, a glass jar shattering with the impact. She scuttled backwards, practically treading on her son in her haste to get distance between herself and Mikey. She stared at him, a clear look of fear and confusion on her face, before opening her mouth to scream again.

"Oh, hush," Mike snapped, too annoyed with the whole situation to even try and be sympathetic.

Penny gulped, eyes wide, holding the rest of her groceries limply at her side. From behind her Julius looked at Mike and grinned.

"I knew you were green!"

Mike sighed and with his now free hand pulled his scarf down around his neck, giving a strained half smile at the boy.

"Very observant," He quipped.

Penny opened her mouth once more, but before anything could issue from it Mike stopped her. "Don't scream," he bit, "I'm not going to hurt you." She closed her mouth, and Mikey sighed once more. This wasn't the first time he'd encountered a human that was stunned and frightened by his appearance, but even after all this time it still chafed. "You'd think," He thought sardonically, "that people could get a grip. I'm only green..."

"Kermit doesn't have these problems," he voiced, and while the child behind her laughed, Penny did not. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water for a few moments before finally saying, "What are you?"

Mike rolled his eyes and deadpanned, "I'm a genetics experiment gone horribly wrong."

When Penny just gaped at him, her mouth still open and her eyes as wide as ever, he groaned in defeat and said, "I'm kidding. I'm a turtle."

Her brow rose at this. "A… turtle?"

"Yeah. There's a shell under here," he replied, gesturing vaguely to his back.

"… A turtle."

Mikey frowned. "Please don't pass out."

At this, Penny scowled, her awe seemingly broken at the suggestion. "I'm not going to pass out," she hissed. "This is just… freaky."

Mikey gave her a forced smile. "Yeah, not the first time I've been told that."

Penny ignored him, taking a deep breath. "I think I'm going crazy. This is a hallucination. … I'm obviously hallucinating."

At this Julius piped, "You aren't crazy mommy, I see him too!"

Penny looked down at her son, then back to Mike. "Make-up, then. You're wearing make-up."

The way she said it was almost a plea, and Michelangelo shrugged. "You think whatever you need to, babe." He said. "Hell, I'll even settle for the whole "this is a dream" cop out if it means you don't pass out."

Penny scowled at him, her fear overtaken with a fleeting irritation. "I am not going to pass out," she insisted severely.

Mikey held up a hand. "Alright, alright, you're not passing out. Sheesh."

Again the young boy laughed, but Penny looked at him as though he were the devil materialized.

"Listen, I'm not going to hurt you. Besides being a turtle, and green, I'm normal." A small voice in his head intoned that his statement wasn't true, but Mikey pushed it aside and continued on. "After this, you can pretend we never met, and that this never happened. Deal?"

Penny just stared at him, as though unsure he was really standing there, and Michelangelo had the fleeting idea to ask if she spoke English. But teasing her, he supposed, would probably not help the situation, and so he resisted. Instead he leaned down and, ignoring her startled jump at his movements, began picking up the groceries she'd dropped. The glass that had broken ended up being a jar of olives, and he picked the rest of the groceries out of the bag and transferred them to another before tying the glass up and setting it aside.

"I'll throw that one away," he told her as he stood, gesturing to the bag of glass and salty smelling olive juice. Penny gave him a trepidus nod and took the bags he handed her.

"Thanks," she intoned quietly, and Mike pursed his lips and shrugged.

"What are Good Samaritans for?" He joked lamely, wanting desperately to escape the situation.

There was another long moment of tense and awkward silence before Penny finally said, "I'm going inside now."

Michelangelo nodded. "Yeah, this has been fun."

His sarcasm was lost on her though, because she only gave him one last look of fear and disbelief before ushering her small son quickly into the buildings main doors, throwing glances over her shoulder as if to make sure he wasn't advancing on her.

Mike watched her go, boarding the elevator and disappearing behind the closing door with a last confused look at him. Once she'd gone he released a gust of breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. That had been awful, he decided, and he mentally kicked himself. Other people may wonder what the term "No good deed goes unpunished" might mean, but he'd never had to ponder the old saying. He'd always been aware of the consequences of a good deed- especially when the one dispensing the good deeds was a turtle that stood at 6'1. And, though he had no illusions that the shock of seeing him would elicit a scream of fear out of most people, it nevertheless always elicited a pang of hurt and frustration. Still, it had been a long while since that had happened to him. He'd been living topside for a few months now, and though he was usually in disguise he had been interacting with more and more people as of late. In fact, the last time a woman had reacted to him like that had been…

Jade.

Michelangelo made a face of disgust and pushed the image of Jade that had conjured with the thought of her name aside. Adjusting his scarf to once more cover his mouth, he picked up the bag of broken glass and tossed it into a large dumpster that was located in the side ally of Penny's apartment building. He then, after a short search, retrieved his fedora from further on down the sidewalk (carried only a short way by the pest known as wind) and secured it tightly atop his head.

"Stupid hat, stupid wind, stupid ass," he muttered darkly. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

The muttering continued as he trekked home, occasionally throwing sour glances behind him in the direction of Penny's apartment. Perhaps, before the recent debacle with Jade and his brother, and everything else that was wrong in his life, he'd not have cared so much about the reaction of a person to his appearance. But now he was different, more cynical and certainly more brooding, and the entire exchange left him feeling riled and indignant. Before he may have felt a twinge of annoyance, perhaps have even been hurt. Now he just felt angry. The only woman he'd ever known to keep a level head upon meeting him or one of his brothers was Theresa. She had smiled and thanked Raphael, as if meeting a walking talking turtle was the one of the more sensible things she'd ever done.

Michelangelo knew that she was the exception. That he shouldn't expect anyone to act with any other reaction other than fear or even revulsion. But it left him feeling raw, and was a constant reminder that, no matter what he did, no matter where he lived (weather a sewer or topside in an apartment) he would never fit in with the rest of society.

Upon his arrival to his second story apartment he quickly removed his hat, scarf, and the constricting long coat, hanging them on the coat rack behind the door (more left over decor from Theresa). He placed all of the Harp into the refrigerator sans one, which he opened with vigor, taking a long pull. It certainly wasn't the best beer, but with the small selection at the Mom and Pop grocery down the road, it was by far the best they had. He sighed and retrieved the cigarettes from his coat pocket and, flopping himself unceremoniously onto a kitchen chair, lit and inhaled with great enthusiasm. On the exhale he let his tense body relax, forcing the anger that had built up over the course of the last half hour to ebb out of him. By the time he had finished the beer and cigarette, he felt almost like his old self.

Until Donatello showed up.

Author's Note; This, ladies and gentlemen (… are there any?), is called motivation. I've been writing like a crazy woman! Technically, this would have been the last bit of the previous chapter. It's a bit short compared to what I'm used to posting, but again, I was at the right stopping point. Hopefully I'll be able to post a nice long chapter next time… And hopefully that will be soon!

Also, if you are unsure of the whole feud between Donny and Mike, I would suggest going and reading Chapter 7 and/or Chapter14 of Book One; The Light in the Dark if you have not already. It will indeed explain everything you need to know about said topic. Otherwise feel free to inbox me and I'll explain as best I can. :)

On another note, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words following the last Authors Note. I really appreciate all of you, and this has been a surprisingly good outlet and distraction. I don't know that it will last once I start back at work, but let's hope!