Author Note: Sorry for the late update. Life is crazy. No song here; nothing really fit so I left it out. Thanks for reading... enjoy!

Ch. 3

Donatello could smell the electricity and metal before he opened the door. God only knew how long she'd been locked in that little room, fixing, adjusting, calibrating the tiny little bots that drove her mad. The White Stripes played loudly, and he could hear her muttering the lyrics as something crackled and snapped.

He knocked gently but firmly, and she gasped, flinging open the door to her workshop. Her clothes were filthy, covered with oil and dirt, sweat, and bits of blood. Her hair was in tangles, hanging loosely around her shoulders as she pushed back the large welding goggles.

"Is it ten already?" she said, brushing metal shavings from her shirt and looking up at him. Smoke tainted the air behind her. "I'm sorry, I just—got caught up, and—"

Don pressed his lips to hers, tasting the salt and soapy clean sweat on her skin. When he let go, her eyes stayed closed a moment longer and she smiled contentedly.

"It's midnight," he said, rubbing the marks on her face from the goggles. "When was the last time you ate anything?"

"Ah…." She said, then pointed to a candy wrapper and smiled triumphantly. "Apparently I had a candy bar!"

"That's from two days ago," Don said slowly, watching her eyes roll.

"Ok, well, I'm not dead so I ate sometime."

"Can I see?" He said, inching toward the door.

Johanna shut it firmly and stood between him and the room. It wasn't that she wanted to keep it from him, it was just that she knew he wouldn't approve of her plans. He would try to stop her, and just like Leo, Don wasn't above spying or sabotage.

"Not until it's done," she smiled. "You gave me a good idea, and it's working great."

"I… did?" he said, narrowing his eyes.

Johanna smiled brightly, eyes wide and innocent. Too innocent, he thought, and cocked his head to the side. Johanna's stomach growled loudly, and each one looked down at her belly.

"Italian," she said, meeting his deep brown eyes.

They were like deep pools of melted chocolate; Johanna could sense the intelligence lurking in their depths when they first met. It was why she took him from that place.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, taking her hand and leading her to the kitchen.

"Just about the night we met," Johanna replied softly, rubbing circles in his palm with her thumb.

He hummed softly at the comforting feel of her touch. The warmth of her spread from his hand to his chest as he glanced back at the pretty figure in tow. Gray eyes peered up at him from under dark lashes, and he thought again of their new… relationship? Did this mean they were together now? Donatello pondered as he led her to the kitchen, pulling take out containers from the fridge and grimacing at the green-gray mold on top of everything.

"I got this," Johanna smiled, sitting on the barstool on the island.

She clicked away on her tablet, glancing up at him when she felt his eyes studying every move. I've distracted him for now, but he's not going to let this go. I just need to buy time until it's done… until he can't stop me.

"What are you ordering?" Don asked nonchalantly. Trust, Don. Let her keep her secret for now.

"Chinese?" he suggested. "But it looks like you had that… sometime last week."

"Pizza," she smiled, and he nodded, chuckling under his breath. "Not many restaurants are still open."

She clicked away, ordering as he leaned on the old wood butchers' block. Her flat, though large and expensive, had an old feel. It reminded him of a country home; the large vase of white peonies on the table gave warmth to the otherwise blank apartment. Small trinkets and colorful splashes of brand new furniture filled the rooms, but nothing really gave anyone a clue as to who she really was.

"Done," she said finally, and rubbed her face. "I'm going to shower. Wanna pick a movie?"

Johanna slid the tablet to him and nodded to the living room. She disappeared around the corner, stretching her thin arms above her head. As he moved toward the couch, he could see her skipping into the bathroom, leaving a trail of dust on the white carpet.

'What are we?' her question burned in his mind. Don was going to bring it up, but Raphael had strongly advised against it. 'Not yet', he'd said. 'Don't rush it. Just let it happen, Don, and quit trying to break it down like you always do.'

What would it prove, anyway? Don thought, turning on the TV as the shower steam drifted into the hall. I love her, no matter if this is all we are, or… if perhaps we're more.

Johanna walked into the living room just as he settled on the couch. A white towel was wrapped around her hair, and a soft black robe donned her body. She was talking, but he couldn't listen as she let her hair loose and started brushing out the tangles, working through each fresh scented strand. Home is anywhere she is.

"Don, are you listening?" she asked as she slipped onto his lap.

"Hmm?" he said, running a large palm up her smooth thigh.

Her eyes closed and she sighed, enjoying the familiar feel of his skin on hers. The way they were together, it was natural—right. I wish he knew what he meant to me. I wish he knew how long I waited for him.

Johanna already worked the algorithm; she knew just how likely it was that they would go any farther than this, how long their relationship may last, and how impossible it would be to have children. Of course, she mused, there was always adoption.

"Johanna," he breathed, brushing away her bathrobe.

Donatello wasted no time as he captured a breast in his mouth and his hand met the warmth between her thighs.

"D-Donatello!" she gasped, holding his shell for support as his persistent hands kept their teasing pace.

His lips trailed up her neck, sucking an earlobe as she one arm grasped the carapace, the other on his forearm. Don felt his heart race, thumping so hard in his chest he was certain she could hear it. God, the way she moves… the way she feels everything so completely—

He pulled back, replacing his hand and pressing into her slowly as her eyes fluttered. Joined at last as hot breath connected with soft lips, and the world melted away. Donatello murmured her name, soaking in every sigh and gasp as she rocked against him, pulling him toward the edge. Large green hands grasped her waist at the hips, pushing her down harder, deeper. It didn't take long for each to peak, having thought about that moment all day.

Johanna collapsed on top of him, breathing hard as she trembled.

"You're shaking…" he whispered, catching his breath.

"I'm fine," she whispered back, kissing him once more before climbing off and laying her head on his large shoulder.

Her eyes drooped with exhaustion, but her body continued shaking.

"Johanna?" he said quietly, stroking her still wet hair.

Don felt a hot tear hit his arm and he shot up, pulling her with him.

"What happened?" he said, eyes wide and searching her face.

Large palms cupped her cheeks. Stupid, Johanna… you should have known. You could have taken a pill, and it wouldn't be so bad. Pain ached into her hips. She needed to get to the meds—to her pill box deep in the bathroom closet.

"Nothing," she said quickly, sitting up.

Too quickly… she—no, I didn't mean to… Don watched her wide eyes stare back at him before she swallowed hard and cleared her throat.

"I hurt you," his voice rumbled.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said, looking up as the phone rang.

"Yes? Oh, Ok, yes. Send him up," she said, then turned back. "Pizza is here. I better get dressed."

Her lips pecked his as she pulled on her robe and hurried down the hall to the closet, shoving two pills in her mouth and swallowing them dry. After a moment she breathed in slowly, experimentally, when there was a knock at the door.

Johanna wiped her face dry and stumbled toward the door, noting Donatello's quick disappearance from the couch. After setting the pizza on the table, Johanna felt the warm numbness of the pills taking over. The shower was on, signaling Donatello's whereabouts.

She nibbled on the pizza and thought of her project, the little robots that kept her up all night and busy all day. She was so close; unfortunately she was human too and needed rest. Right now, as she fumbled with the floppy New York slice, her fingers locked up, exhausted from the long night of work.

Donatello looked pensive as he filled the doorway, each elbow resting on the frame. He watched her small form eating a third large slice and smiled. She seemed alright, he thought, maybe he didn't hurt her.

"Please tell me about what you're working on?" he asked, slipping into the large chair in front of her.

Johanna chewed slowly, considering.

"I've just figured out the 'central station' bit we talked about," she replied. "Now I'm re-calibrating. I don't want you to see until it's done though—it's a surprise."

It was the truth, just not the complete truth. Donatello watched her swallow and take a drink of water before sliding the pizza box to him. Her pupils were slightly dilated, her breathing and chewing slow. Either it was her attraction to him, he decided, or she'd taken narcotic pain medicine.

"I see, and how did you do that?" he asked, taking a bite of pizza.

God… Pepperoni, banana pepper, jalapeno, pineapple… Mike would be proud.

She paused, then shrugged. "If I told you that, it wouldn't be a surprise."

"Johanna," he warned, setting it down. "You're going to be the death of me."

With a sigh, she replied. "You told me to use my 'big beautiful brain, so I am."

He glared over the greasy box incredulously.

Don sighed, feeling that old tug in his stomach again. This wasn't right; he could feel it deep in his bones. Her heart was in the right place, and she was a good person, but this—

"What are you thinking?" she asked, nibbling on a piece of cheese.

Johanna always left the crusts; he smiled, looking down at the pieces on the plate. In some ways, just like Mike, she was a kid at heart—but she would not be happy with that assessment. Don couldn't let her go this alone, he realized, watching her lip tremble. If he could supervise, monitor the situation, perhaps it wouldn't turn out as badly as he feared it would. Despair nagged his gut as he looked into her eyes, the fierce intelligence glaring back at him. This would end badly.

"Clearly you are keeping this a surprise because you know I wouldn't approve," he said, picking off the pineapple. "It worries me."

"I'm a big girl, Don," she said, tossing the crusts on the balcony for the birds. "I can take care of myself."

"Yes," he said. "You're also young, Johanna, and too stubborn for your own good."

"I'll be fine. Everything will be fine," she said, tossing her hands up. "Let's go to my summer home next weekend. Take a vacation together. Just you and me."

There was nothing more he wanted than to sleep in the crook of her neck, to feel her warm sleepy breath on his skin. Still, she was distracting him. It was a diversion, one he couldn't afford to take. Leo wouldn't mind spying on her, while they were out of town—he could give him the access codes. Then again, Leo was always looking for a reason to distrust Johanna, or anyone else for that matter. Raphael wasn't good with technology; Mike was too clumsy. April, perhaps? No, he couldn't put April in that position. One of the brothers could easily deny it, and—

"EARTH TO DONATELLO!" Johanna said, gripping his face.

"Sure, I'd love to," he said, giving his best smile.

She laughed, then nodded and sat on his lap, feeding him a piece of pizza.

"God, where do you go?" she said, brushing her hands on a cloth napkin. "Does your mind ever stop?"

"Does yours?"

"No," she said, sitting back. "I guess not."

"What do you think about?" Don asked, lifting his water to take a drink.

Johanna grinned, then sat up and whispered in his ear. Donatello choked on his water before dropping the bottle on the floor.

"Oh my God," he growled, watching her smile as her hand snaked below his pants.