Author's Notes: Where are my faithful reviewers from 'Hollow Hearts'? I miss you so. *lone tear* Anyways.

Sciencegal - That's a good goal. And you know you love Bishop. ;)

WOLFJADE28- Ello there! Glad this has got you hooked somewhat. I have many twists and falls ahead, so stay tuned. :D And I guess I can be nice and say...read the story to find out. *punched* Sorry, but I want to keep everyone guessing about everything. What fun is giving away secrets? ;)

Now enjoy!

Chapter 03: Separation

Glancing across unfinished pharmaceutical projects, Hamato Melody spotted her life mate Donatello. Tall and dressed in an altered lab coat fit for his mass, the turtle mutant stood below bright lighting that almost whitewashed the brick niche he occasionally traveled. It was common for him to deliberate with his old friends: April O'Neil and an imposing crocodile creature named Leatherhead. However, Mel hated how heavy textbooks fixed her to secluded areas on one side of Leatherhead's custom lab—especially when Don and April would talk for hours on end.

'I am acting like a jealous school girl,' she told herself. Still, she noted the closeness April insisted she share with Donny. Their arms touched before April leaned into the male as she pointed out something in a book.

"Melody, my friend, you are giving way to anger." Leatherhead's voice rumbled like thunder yet retained its subtleness.

The cyborg glanced at the deep impressions her robotic fingers left in the metal table at which sat. Then, she met the behemoth beside her. Just over seven feet tall, he wore a torn lab coat and a kind smile across his snout. Though another word for it could be intimidating—if she were the kind to be intimidated.

The bipedal croc knew as much, so he showed more teeth as his grin grew so wide, it met his yellow eyes. "The feeling arises suddenly, does it not? And with little reason."

"Rage," she confirmed, monotonous.

"Even when you know the cause is the simplest of things, sometimes it cannot be prevented."

"Nor controlled."

Leatherhead chuckled—a powerful action that resonated in his large chest.

"Why do you call me that?" Mel didn't think her question to be a jarring change, but the croc blinked in surprise.

"Call you what?"

"I have done nothing to earn the title of friend."

"Sometimes a title is not earned. It grows."

"Grows because I am Donatello's mate?" Partly, the question was a joke; yet another part of it held truth, so she studied the massive mutant carefully—like the tiniest flinch across his thick, bumpy skin could reveal an answer.

"Sometimes, you ask redundant questions, friend," Leatherhead replied when his smile resurfaced. His bright eyes captured the cyborg against her will and she remained silent while he continued. "You sensed it when we first met, right? Living in a constant state of precarious balance, one learns to detect likewise souls. It is not something we train ourselves for, we simply know. Because we know ourselves."

"And realizing you are not the only one facing such a constant war is somewhat…"

"Comforting."

Melody's vision dropped to the dented table.

"I call you 'friend' because I know you understand the struggle. And because you are Donatello's mate."

Against better judgment, Melody sniggered. It felt and sounded awkward, since the action was so rare, but Leatherhead rested a clawed hand over her right shoulder's metal plate in comfort.

"Trust me," he said, "I know how surreal it can seem, the thought of friendship. There were times where all I cared about was revenge, where I let the anger consume me."

Despite how calmly he spoke, an underlying hate lit Leatherhead's tone on fire. However, that was not why Mel stiffened. Her mind rushed with thoughts of Black Lotus, her change, Doctors Stephens and Lombardo so quickly that the memories stole all her oxygen.

"Black Lotus' purpose is to bloom in the darkness and rise as an unexpected beauty."

Melody had let that darkness engulf her once, before Donatello broke through it. Her body shook at the realization, and she forced her gaze on the impressive five-inch claws beside her neck to keep the demons away.

"That rage reoccurs sometimes," the croc mutant added. "Fortunately, it is easier to bear. The Hamatos have taught me a sense of self-worth. They helped me become more than an animal seeking violence, even when I felt I did not deserve them. For that, I am thankful."

"Y—you have felt you do not deserve them?" Mel couldn't bring herself to look up; her voice already cracked.

"Yes. There was a point where I hurt Michelangelo terribly. I thought…I thought I had killed him. And I tried pushing them away. But in spite of my flaws, they held strong. They showed me I did need their friendship, to keep from becoming a monster once again."

How strange. Leatherhead understood more than Melody had ever expected, and she was helpless against the urge to glance at Donny. The Chūnin rubbed his thick neck in frustration, tugged at his coat's collar—an endearing sight. She was there with him. He wanted her. And despite their work's grueling circumstances, her chest swelled with gratitude and relief at taking part in it.

"Demons are best conquered alongside friends rather than alone, right, my friend?"

Mel directed a grin towards Leatherhead, though remained quiet.

"Kuso; the anti-bodies just won't stabilize!" Donatello cried. His sharp tone preceded a soft bang against something metallic and diminished his mate's smile until her usual listless expression returned. When Mel stood from her seat, she noted the scowl Don wore while nearing her. He stopped at an open notebook beside her school work on the table then crossed something out in the dense mass of words and diagrams.

"Don't get frustrated now; we have a direction," April said. The twenty-nine-year-old glanced over the trio, sparing Melody a pointed look before approaching Don with animated arms. "We know IgR is hyper-dependant on a particular wavelength. Electricity activates them."

"Electricity activates all life," noted Mel dryly. She didn't flinch at the green eyes that narrowed at her; she looked away only because Don groaned.

"Even so," he added, arms crossed, "the energy we generate with batteries doesn't cut it. The cells always resort to fractionation then decay. While Hemolysis is natural, this…is far too violent."

"The alkaline solutions are the worst."

While the action was clearly painful, April nodded towards Mel. "Their output isn't…natural enough. Of course, the neurons in Nia know the right ions to release, in the right sequence. We need to simulate that process perfectly."

"Trick the blood."

"More so. It needs to act like Splinter's body is hers. Really, I—I don't get how Recro-12 worked with—" The redhead cut herself short, gaze falling on Donatello as she brushed side-swept bangs from her face.

"We don't understand either," the genius said in an undertone. "But it's possible. Hell, even Bishop figured it out. Perhaps we can mix my blood with the sample taken from Nia last Sunday."

"You think that will make a difference?"

Don faced his mate—an action filled with determination and hurt. "The Mutagen is present in me. So is Recro-12. The samples you took in January decayed soon after you ran it through the ultracentrifuge then tested a low current through it."

"Which goes to show how fragile your blood is now."

"It could be a trade-off for the enhanced healing. And slight speed."

"And means you should probably avoid being electrocuted."

Don blanched. "Stop worrying, Mel. Instability doesn't matter right now. So…maybe it's time I sacrificed as much as Nia has."

"You sacrifice enough," Melody whispered while gripping her metallic knees.

"But he's the only one here who's lived through Recro-12, right?" April's question lingered through the atmosphere like a low-hanging cloud, bringing with it turbulent apprehension that drew Mel's eyes downwards. "The drug isn't in you anymore. And since Kaiya's barred, it makes sense to study him as thoroughly as Nia. Especially if Chemotherapy is a side priority."

"So we should start tests now," Donatello said, firm.

Mel hated the thought, but she also couldn't refute the logic. Therefore, she nodded when the purple-masked Chūnin turned to a shelf of syringes, her breath as thick as water. She could only hope one thing went right today: that Splinter was resting as requested.

000000

Splinter heaved a sigh. He should not be up, he knew. However, he was beginning to feel at one with his bedroom's futon.

In recent weeks Michelangelo had jested about how a permanent indent of his body resided along the bed, and the joke's reality left the master embittered. He was sick, not immobile or handicapped. And those around the Lair who acted otherwise fueled the frustration he harbored over his new weakness.

'They mean well,' he reminded himself while leaning against his gnarled cane. 'Melody-san is the worst of all, surprisingly. I can sense the apprehension in her Chi when she watches me during my daily exercises and she scolds me the most, like…like Leonardo would do. Funny; when I think about it, the two share many traits in common. Perhaps that can aid them through a real relationship when he returns.'

It could happen, although the process would be a grueling. Even Splinter was unsure what mindset his eldest son would process upon returning. Given the amount of stress the Jonin had to endure the year previous, it was possible he could return colder than when he had left. Perhaps indifferent or resentful. Only the father's firm belief in his child kept him from fearing the worst.

Deep down, Splinter knew fearing would be pointless: Leonardo's character was too strong.

So, releasing all worry with a second sigh, the mutant rat forced his thoughts aside. Movement caught his eye soon after, when he noticed a figure on the living room couch. His joints burned at the pace he maintained to round the couch, but he ignored their pleas to stop until he stood before his youngest son.

"Michelangelo, you are awfully quiet," he noted. The orange-masked Chūnin puffed his cheeks out, not lifting his head from a collection of crumpled papers spread across the coffee table. Their familiar Kanji left Splinter's already-sensitive stomach in knots, yet he maintained composure while sinking into the couch's free cushion. "You are reading Leonardo's letters again."

"Can't help it," Michelangelo replied, low. "Don, Melody, and Ape are at Leatherhead's lab and Nia's working at the foster care center. What other company do I have?"

"Where is Raphael?"

"It's sundown. Probably left early to escort Nia."

"I see." Splinter poised his staff closer, so he could rest his chin on it while sending his companion a soft smile. "Then will I not suffice?"

The younger mutant spun his head in obvious alarm. "I didn't mean—"

"I know."

Michelangelo paused to run a large down his face. Then, he leaned back in the couch seat after gripping one, short letter. "Sorry, Sensei."

"Anxiety does cloud the mind. I understand."

"You have more to be stressed about than me, but I—I can't help feeling things would be more bearable if—" The mutant hesitated, glancing upwards.

"If what, my son?" Splinter spoke carefully for encouragement.

Even so, Michelangelo's blue eyes averted to the letter—as if he was ashamed. "Our world has changed a lot within a year," he continued in a grim undertone. "We've been through hell. Black Lotus. The Summers. Kingston. Bishop. Meeting Hugh? I mean, when you think back on it, our world has been turned upside down. Raph and Don are 'married'. Leo is on sabbatical. And…I feel like I'm drifting."

"I cannot tell you how hard it has been to watch you endure these troubles," Splinter added through thick gulps. "While you brothers have pushed against one another in your pain, the divide could never keep you apart."

"I'm not talking about that. Not fully."

"Then what do you mean?"

"Things don't feel the same…"

Splinter could tell by how Michelangelo's finger traced the letter's kanji that he would continue, so the master kept still, attentive.

"We used to be like the Three Musketeers, except with, ya know, four of us. We did everything together and I was happy. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad Raph and Don found someone. I'm thankful we met Nia, Hugh, even Melody. But…Raph's so worried about Nia's Anemia that he sticks to her like glue when they're home. And Don and Mel are always researching. They won't take a break with me. And Leo…his letters are so erratic that I can't tell where his mind is anymore. That aside, he isn't here…"

"Separation." The word left Splinter as a whisper, though it felt heavy. When Michelangelo shrugged, the father brought a paw to the mutant turtle's forearm, gripping it gently despite a deep pain in his chest. "You never could bear such troubles. Once, when you were young, Leonardo fell ill with a high fever."

"He was always getting sick," the younger mutant grumbled.

Splinter was pleased by the upward twitch of his son's mouth, an expression of fond reminiscing. "And you worried for him, like you are now while pouring over his letters. I warned you against staying close, yet you would not listen. Thus, you caught his fever."

"I remember that. Didn't I get dehydrated?"

"Hai. Leonardo felt so guilty that he never left your side. You both worked hard to care for one another in your weakest time. Such is the kind of love which ties you brothers together. Age and experience will evolve your relationships, but that is life. You will never stop being brothers."

"I know, Sensei. But part of me worries. What if Leo comes back and he wants us to stay underground forever? Wh—what if the Phantoms are done for good? I can't imagine a life where I can't help."

"My son"—Splinter's burning paw tightened on Michelangelo—"please, endure. Your team is scattered, not disbanded."

"Doesn't feel that way."

"Instead of looking at what once was and is not, currently, you should look to what can be."

For a long moment Michelangelo kept quiet, his wide mouth pursed. Then he said, "Crazy rat say what now?"

The wizened master chuckled. "Your brothers are busy. Yet they will return in time, when your team is forged anew. Instead of focusing all your energy on the negativity, you should work on strengthening other relationships while you can."

"Well…I have been begging Hugh to hang out."

"I am sure he needs a break from his troubles as well."

"Oh! I wonder if he can bring Kaiya along. Haven't seen her in a while."

"Now there is a spirit in desperate need of your company."

"Who doesn't need their daily dose of Vitamin Mikey?" Michelangelo posed strangely while rubbing his short chin. After a snigger, he faced his father with wide blue eyes behind his orange mask, his expression alit by new energy. "Y—you'll let me visit them?"

Nodding was difficult, though Splinter managed it. "I trust you will act responsibly?"

"Of course. I'm gunna go call Hugh now. Thanks, Sensei!"

Splinter offered a weak nod before his son jumped over the back of the couch and animatedly punched buttons on his Shell Cell. The excitement filled him with a warm contentment that allowed him to gather Leo's letters and forget how his bones burned.

A/Ns: Things seem a little slow now, but trust me. This is all important set-up and reflection. Anyone who's read my stuff is aware I slowly bring you to the top then let you fall down an obstacle course. LOL. Until next time. Review? ;D