A/N: Got the right day this time. ROFL.

D: Gotta admit, Mikey is very hopeful in general. Don't worry, he'll ease back into "normal" soon. :)

WOLF: Such mysteries. Gotta wait and see! ;D

Feather: Now I just have images of Mikey using Will Smith lines. Future one-shot? Maybe. XD You have a right to be worried for Hugh and Leo...Anyways, I'm so happy you caught onto that Madam V detail. I'm sure many other readers are like "Who?" :D

Chapter 10: Kids

Wednesday afternoon arrived quickly for Nia. Of course, that could be because the last two days were a haze due to her Anemia. The artist had acted lightly when she told her husband she'd stay the night Tuesday; however, between working, thinking about Splinter, keeping collected for her mother, and dealing with her father, she felt drained of what little drive she did retain.

She couldn't call in, though. If she stayed in the Lair all day, she was certain she'd hurt something of Donatello's. Possibly even Melody. And Raphael would insist she do nothing. In the end, there was little choice, so she finished re-packing her overnight bag in her parents' room, thankful her father was currently teaching.

"You…went to sleep awful early last night," Mia said in the king-size bed. "Are…you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Nia countered while turning away from the dresser top. She flashed a smile, although the action required much effort.

The brunette looked neither thrilled nor convinced; and her usually-friendly features were darkened by a conflicting emotion that only worsened Nia's migraine. "I'm confined to a bed, Ni, not blind," the woman chided.

The daughter met her parent's wide-set gaze, reluctant. "I've been eating all the food Daddy makes."

"It's not just…food." With an uncoordinated shake of her head, Mia wiped her mouth when her words slurred. "Y—you're exhausted."

"A little."

"A lot. I can see it…in your eyes."

'I should remember: it isn't Daddy I'm trying to fool.'

"Nia,"—Mia's sternness sent a small jolt through her child—"your father told me…what you're doing."

For a long moment, Nia was almost too scared to ask. "W—with what?"

"Your blood."

"O—oh, ha—has he?" The artist fidgeted where she stood and reached behind so she could grasp her overnight bag. When her fingers gripped its coarse fabric below the end of her long ponytail, she brought it around to hug, as if it could somehow comfort her anxious heart.

'Please, please, please, tell me Daddy kept them a secret!' She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut, yet her mother's brown eyes left them paralyzed.

"Y—you hate labs," the woman continued as she drew her arched brows into a frown. "Why give it to research?"

"Research?" Nia whispered.

"That private lab that…asked for your help. The one run by your genius friend. Wh"—Mia dappled her mouth with a handkerchief—"what is his name?"

"Donatello."

"It's hard to believe you would want him to study you…like that. You were always so miserable in those environments. Especially when you were eleven."

"This time I don't have people like Doctor Marx and Jensen prying into me," the artist grumbled, jaw clenched.

Mia gave a weak laugh. "Doctor Marx was nice, though."

'Yeah, was,' thought Nia once her gaze finally averted. 'That crazy redhead kidnapped him then probably forced him to make her cyborg. He hasn't been seen since, but…judging from Mikey's retell of their fight, I doubt he's alive.'

"Ni?"

Nia's head jerked up when her mother sighed. "Yes?"

"Your father told me you were doing better. Looking healthy…pain-free. Wh—why would you give all that up for…for experimental science?"

"Daddy didn't explain?" The brunette cocked her head of short hair, which downturned every muscle in the artist's face. "Figures. He probably wants me to look reckless."

"I could never believe such a thing. You've always been cautious, baby, even as a child."

"Well, I'm only doing it to save someone," Nia added, meeting her mother's dying smile.

"With your"—Mia paused like the words choked her—"special alien bloodline?"

Her turned neck felt stiff when she nodded, yet Nia did so anyway, and barely managed to prevent her limbs from shaking. "Raph's father has cancer. He's entering the late stages. I—if we can't…If I don't give my all, and s—something happens, I would never forgive myself."

"Don't place such pressure on your shoulders." Mia spoke over the last part of her daughter's sentence—a sharp, pained action. And her face grew stoic when their eyes reconnected. "It isn't right for anyone to think 'their life is in my hands'. Not in a case of cancer."

"But—"

"Is he getting other treatment?"

Breath hitched, Nia gripped her bag so tightly she could feel the extra converse between the clothes. "He…can't."

"Why? A hospital won't possibly turn away a sick man. He could get financial aid or—"

"Mama, he can't!" It hurt: watching her mother flinch and remembering her clan's disadvantage. It hurt even worse when she realized she couldn't explain fully, and her eyes prickled when the woman in bed nearly fell over while resituating beneath the covers.

"It seems there's a lot your new friends can't do. Like see me."

"Mama…"

"You want to wait until I'm stronger. So you say. But I'm strong now…A little scrawny, small, and I may slur or…spit or pause for breath now and again. But my mind isn't as fragile as you and your father think."

'She's right. Especially when she's upset. Still…'

"Why are you so scared?"

Nia couldn't stand the wounded stare she felt against the side of her aching head. She couldn't speak, either, with her chest clenched.

After a short pause a sigh drifted across the room. "I'll find out eventually, Ni. Just…promise me something."

Begrudgingly, Nia faced the brunette. "Y—yes?"

"Don't assume responsibility. This man's health isn't in your hands. You can help, apparently. It's all rather confusing, but…you don't need that weight on your back. It must be shared…"

"You waited until Daddy was gone to bring up this conversation," the daughter whispered.

"Of course. You hide around him, more so than me."

"And you were probably hoping I'd tell you more."

"Well," Mia drawled, "I did find out…more than if he were here."

"Sorry," Nia croaked.

"There was another angle as well. You mentioned something about work. But your father's…been home more often. You wanted to talk away from him…right?"

'Is this about the new volunteer coming today? No, I already mentioned that before passing out last night. Then…Oh, right. The kids!' While a small pang of guilt stabbed her gut, Nia didn't dwell on it. She had forgotten because of her Anemic haze, which couldn't be controlled.

So, straightening against the dresser, she inhaled, and regarded her mother's change of subject with a thankful smile. "This may come as a bit of a surprise.

0 - 0 - 0

Sophia Moretti heaved a sigh. Generally, the twenty-four-year-old had no problem volunteering. She loved being helpful, honestly, and the sense of pride she took in it was one of her most defining traits. She thought. But the fact that her mother signed her up for work at The Warner-Frost Services left her somewhat surly and stalking the halls.

'She's only doing this to fill my schedule. My job's part-time and now to keep me from going out, she does this? She knows I don't do well with kids! It's not even on purpose; I just make them cry.'

While shameful to admit, it was truth. And it weighed like bags of sand on her small chest.

Halting in the empty hallway, the young woman glanced towards a long mirror that ran between two office doors. It was hung eye-level for average adults; but, since Sophia's petite frame only reached five-foot-one, her mouth was cut off from view.

She first noticed the peaks of her blonde pigtails. They stood higher than her head because the decorative bows pushed them up, and she idly fiddled with them as her vision fell on her face.

It didn't look scary. The dusting of freckles across her lightly-tanned skin was endearing to most. And her round, close-set eyes added to its child-like persona, which she exemplified with her clothing style. Sure, her upturned nose had been compared to a pig on occasion.

However, the exaggeration was told by a child. And Sophia had retaliated for it.

'This is the worst place for me, Mum. I'll end up fighting the children. Do you really want calls like that?'

With any luck, the blonde could wander around and avoid them. When Irma Flemming—the eccentric boss—introduced her to the building, she had been given little instruction anyway. The elderly woman was obviously distracted by whatever strange thoughts crossed her mind and she had told her new volunteer to find Sarah Brown for further details.

Whoever that was.

'I asked the front-desk receptionist, Miss Heart, where to find her. She didn't seem very keen on the idea. Guess they don't like one another…Oh.'

Sophia raised her chin when she noticed a well-dressed man standing in the cavity of an office.

He remained silent a moment longer before a lopsided grin formed on his groomed face. "You okay? Staring into space can get you hurt." He must've thought her a baby, judging by his tone. Maybe he even confused her for one of the locals living there.

"I'm twenty-four," she retorted. "I can stare where I want, stronzo!"

"Uh, that's not—"

"Where's Sarah Brown?"

"Uh"—the man either paused in confusion or contemplation—"Right; the artist. I saw her head down the stairs a while ago. She mentioned something about needing another tarp, although she has, like, five."

Sophia crossed her arms over her pink tank-top. "Where do the stairs lead?"

"Those she took are the only ones that reach the basement, where the tarps would be. If you follow this hall to its end, you'll find them, no mistake."

"Grazie tante." With that single, biting 'thanks', Sophia turned on the heel of her worn pink High-Tops then continued down the hall.

"Hey, be careful!" the man cried behind her. "It's a mess, and I think we have something big living down there."

"I'm sure I can handle a pest or two!" the blonde countered with a huff and wave of her thin arm.

'Seriously. What does that guy think will happen? It's not like I'll get attacked by a giant rat…'

0 - 0 - 0

Nia shifted on the solid box she sat on, watching the two figures that hid behind a broken vanity. "N—no need to be scared, kids," she said, gentle.

"We're not scared!" a dark-haired boy retorted. He barely lifted from his crouch in the basement's dense mess, yet Nia could study his head under the pale lighting. It looked inflated—not a lot; just enough to connect it with the shape of a balloon—and his haphazard hair covered it fully, as if to hide his large forehead behind wavy locks.

'Remember what Mama said,' the artist reminded herself. 'Connect first. Once you know the problem, it'll be easier to find a solution…Oh, part of me wishes she would've convinced me to contact someone. I—I have no idea what I'm doing.'

Then again, it was probably a good sign her mother suggested otherwise. It meant she could keep a valued secret, and trusted others' anonymity.

'Maybe she could meet the guys after all…'

"Y—you haven't told anyone about us, have you?" A sweet, trembling voice drew Nia's attention to the female, who peered over the vanity ledge like a curious animal.

Shaking her pounding head for focus, the young woman smiled then gazed into the wide, bright eyes peeking through a layer of long hair. "I—I haven't told any adults here. Promise."

"But you came back," the boy said miserably. "Doesn't that mean you want us to leave?"

"What? I—no. I just…"

'How do I put this?'

"I—if you aren't here to kick us out and you haven't told anyone…then why visit?" A tinge of hope lined the young girl's words; Nia sensed it like a warm pressure on her mind.

"I want to help," the older female answered. "Y—you know you can't stay here forever. E—eventually Lacio Circus will move."

"So we'll do what we always have," the boy noted with a frown.

"What's that?"

"Find a new hiding spot," the girl finished. Tips from the brown hair around her mouth were caught by her lips, so she lifted an equally-as-hairy hand to pull them away.

"I hear a circus is a lot like a family," Nia said over the girl's light spitting. "Why run from them instead?"

"They're not family," grumbled the boy. Although he seemed too young to understand grim trials, his wide-placed eyes soldered like black coals.

"Wh—why not?"

The boy twisted his head away, leaving the girl to lift higher from the vanity. "We're not cared for."

"Quiet, Rose!"

Rose snarled at the 'clawed' hand pinching her arm—an action that resembled a true werewolf movie. "Stop, Barry! I want a normal friend for once. Don't you?"

Barry, round nose scrunched, stood to his full height—a whole half-body taller than expected for a preteen. "This secret is ours! If we give it away—"

"You won't be as lonely." Nia interjected with stern words, which surprised even her. One bright and one dark set of eyes landed on her like gavels, yet she continued under their scrutiny. "I—I may not look it, but I'm not so normal either. I kept it a secret. Tried to deny it. Hide. And…I had no friends because I did so."

"We—we came here because…we like watching the other kids," Rose admitted while tugging at the hair on her arm

"We wish we could be like them," Barry followed up, glancing down at his misshapen hands.

"Who says you can't be?" Nia asked. She slipped off her seat to near them, except they quickly backed away, like little mice. She thought she had made a wrong move, at first, and backpedaled to correct it. Only, their wide gazes shot past her, over her shoulder as if they saw the Boogeyman.

"Is it common to keep kids in basements?" a new voice questioned.

When Nia spun around, she knocked over an old lamp. The fat object was caught in her hands seconds before it hit the dirty floor, although her stomach continued to drop when she came face-to-toe with a pair of scuffed High-Tops. Glancing upwards, she noticed a petite blonde standing on the stack of boxes before her, quirking a brow below fluffed bangs. In fact, it was the same delivery girl who often brought pizzas to April's shop.

Well, this would take some explaining.