A/N: Little angst before the storm's first wave hits. ;)

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Chapter 23: Place

May's late month weather was numbed by strong gales at over a thousand feet high on the New York Times Building. This worked in Melody's favor, given that they eased the cyborg's heated flesh whenever they whipped through the safety glass walls surrounding her, and she needn't ask her companions if they felt likewise. Their subtle smiles beside her spoke volumes, though now was not a time for them in her eyes.

"Why have you called me here?" Melody questioned without facing Sven or Tabitha.

"Why so bitter?" Tabitha shot back.

"My family has had a very stressful last eight hours." The half-blonde tried to keep a tremble for her tone, yet failed when she lifted her chin towards the hazy blue horizon. "I came to meet you at four in the morning, however, because you said it was urgent."

"If we didn't, you wouldn't have come, right?"

"Tabi," Sven interjected coolly as the Nubian huffed.

"Don't scold me, Sven," she spat. Then, her hand twisted Melody's flesh shoulder, drawing the older cyborg's gaze to her large-lip pout. "Mel, we only get to see you when we need our ions discharged. Even then, it's just a few hours. It's nothing like before…Black Lotus."

Melody swallowed thickly, hating how bitter the organization sounded in her ear. "Many things have changed since then, Tabitha."

"And not all of them for the better, huh?"

Mel watched the slender teen cross her arms and twirl towards the glass barrier beside them. "I do not follow your reasoning," the eldest said with a sigh.

"Sven?" Tabitha didn't regard their male friend, but the address drew Melody's attention beyond the dark-skinned cyborg.

Sven's goggle-like eyes glanced from Tabi's backside to Melody then brightened when the carrot top inhaled. "Do you remember our talk in March?"

"When you stole me from the Farmhouse?" Mel focused on Sven's orange gaze, furrowing her only brow. "Of course I do. We designed a weekly schedule for your…check-ups."

"You know that wasn't all," Tabi snapped over her shoulder. Still, like a young child, she wouldn't turn away from the cityscape view.

"You've always had a reason, Melody," the male said in an undertone—almost as if he was scared to admit it. "Or at least a goal. At the Junkyard and Baker's you were always…the reliable one. You watched over people; practically forced medical advice on them."

Melody blinked. "They ought to be mindful. But what is this really about?"

"A place!" The impatient Nubian cut in with a snide scoff and whirled. Deep rumbles from her activated rockets captured the older cyborg's gaze, yet they cut off in seconds, leaving the teen to stumble into a stalk.

"Tabitha—"

"No, Mel"—Tabi frowned as she halted on the roof—"it's not fair. The three of us had each other. We were the only ones we could trust, and if anything else, at least we could accept one another. But now you have a new family. You have a place there and, honestly?" The young woman flashed a grim smile of white teeth. "I'm jealous."

"I wasn't the only one to gain after Black Lotus. Both of you got your families back."

"It's not the same," Sven added, dour.

Tabitha nodded towards him, dark eyes glistening. "Our parents took us in. They regret how they treated us. That was all we ever wanted. And now…"

"It seems pointless, like this."

"This?" echoed Mel—a careful, soft action. Sven met her stare, yet Tabitha gained attention by sniffling.

The slender cyborg flared her wide nose when Melody faced her, her form trembling like her voice. "You can't exactly apply for a job, go to school, or even ask someone out on a casual date when you have robotic limbs. Trust me, I've tried."

"I warned her against it," Sven noted before Mel spoke up. "But you know Tabi."

"It made me realize something," Tabitha continued quite loudly. "We survived neglect, fights, the streets, even Black Lotus. What do we have to show for it? The only thing we strove for is still out of reach. We have no place. So long as we're this different, it'll stay that way."

"There's no turning back from what we are." Melody's words were a croak against her will, and she clenched her fists while glancing between her two best friends. "There's no regaining our limbs or switching to prosthetics. Our cybernetics are necessary. Hell, Sven would be blind without his. You'd be paralyzed. And these cores?" Mel shuddered at the word as her unfeeling hand touched the protected lump in her diaphragm. "They're lifelines. I hate this part of our existence us much as you do, but—"

"No, you don't; you can't!" Tabi's voice trailed into a strangled sound. She was frustrated, clearly—except a deeper meaning lay in her shakes that Melody couldn't decipher when the Nubian braced her rocket boots on the concrete. "We told you in March, we have no idea what we're meant for. All hopes of a normal life were dashed when we were kidnapped, and the only chance at real acceptance died when we realized the truth about Doctor Stephens.

"You're like us, yet you have a place. You're a doctor, soon to be employed by Baker. And you have others that treat you no differently because they're abnormal as well. You're turtle boyfriend—"

"Husband," Melody interjected.

"What?"

"Donatello is my husband."

Tabitha smiled snidely. Or maybe it was done in pain. Even so, Mel kept her expression even, waiting for the younger cyborg's conclusion.

"Whatever, Mel. Point is: you have purpose. We don't."

"That isn't true," Melody whispered.

Surely Sven didn't feel as strongly, did he? The half-blonde twisted her neck until she caught sight of the male's bright hair. Only, he wasn't facing his companions. He peered through the glass wall towards the dawning, smoggy sky, his shoulders wide with held breath.

"Our parents walk on eggshells around us," Sven drawled. "Tabi's parents adopt a tactful approach, ensuring everything they say is politically correct for a cyborg. And my father? He doesn't say it, but I know he's scared of me, what I can do. If our blood family can't act normally, how can we expect anyone else to? Let alone a whole society."

"We're stuck," Tabitha added. "And all we have is…you."

No amount of blinking could ease the burn in Melody's eye. For once, she was thankful to have just one; though she knew crying was healthy for a body's emotional state. Tabitha didn't hide her tears as well as the eldest cyborg, while Sven…well, if could, Mel felt assured he would be unable to hold them back either.

'I did not pressure to meet them more often because I thought they were rebuilding their lives…And all these months they have been as alone as before? No. More so because…'

The half-blonde frowned, straightening between her best friends. "Are you going to listen to what the adults told us while growing up?" she asked in a voice of iron. "Will you believe you are a mistake? Or will you continue searching?"

"Searching gets so tiring," Tabi whispered towards the sky.

"So we will search together."

Slowly, the Nubian's dark eyes traveled from the pink-tinted clouds to Melody. They were filled with a lost pain Mel knew well, and despite her closed throat, the eldest kept her countenance steeled until Tabi approached her.

"Think we can find something?" the teen croaked while staring at her flared boot-feet.

"You two stuck with me through some of my worst years that I wish to forget," Melody started. "For that, I owe you."

"We don't want you to repay a debt," Sven interjected from Mel's other side.

"If you think about it"—Tabitha paused to face the cityscape again—"that debt was already repaid last winter…"

"Then not a debt," Mel agreed.

She followed the Nubian's lead, peering beyond the glass barrier at the pinks and oranges piercing the blue horizon like a flashlight in the face. It felt strange not standing beside Donatello at such a time, but she also didn't feel alone. So she reached for the cyborgs beside her. Three robotic hands, all joined. While they couldn't feel one another, Melody squeezed them lightly, her gaze set on the rising sun.

"I am sorry for my busy schedule. Two members of my family are very ill, and I must help. They are unconscious now, in dire states. But when they are better, I will be around more."

"Oh, I didn't—which—I…" Tabi sighed roughly. "Well, don't I feel like a bitch now."

"You had no way of knowing," Mel replied, listless to keep calm. She gripped the Nubian's hand tighter when the teen tugged it and allowed the sun's bright rays to cleanse her forms of stress as she continued, "If someone like me can find a place, you two can as well. So I promise to help you find it, no matter what."

"Thanks, Mel," Tabi whispered across the wind.

And the trio spoke no more while the sun continued its climb..

Hugh felt sick. Not because of a cold or anything he ate. He hadn't felt like eating all week, actually, and thus made a face at the unwrapped breakfast sandwich Blaine dropped before his nose. The detective pulled his folded arms further below his chin on the restaurant booth's table, his eyes lifting to the blonde officer who slid into the bench seat opposing him.

"Do I gotta treat you like one of my girls?" Blaine asked dryly.

"Don't bother," Hugh countered with a frown.

"What, no joke? Your playfulness sure has died since Monday."

"Stop." Hugh narrowed his eyes in warning, though his body was probably too weak to act on the threat.

"You brought this on yourself, Hugh. I told you if we got involved, our relationships would be strained."

"I don't see Jennifer moving out of your house."

Blaine paused before he unwrapped a second sandwich. "Because we have kids together. Trust me…she hasn't been too happy either. Makes me wonder if what we're doing is worth it. The Hamatos got along fine without us before, right?"

Try as he may, the clan's name prodded Hugh's chest like hot iron, so he focused on dismembering his food to keep a clear head. "Could you easily forget them? Leave them behind? They're on our side, allies. They just…can't be as open about it."

"And that closed nature is being forced on us the longer we associate with them."

"It's also revealed to us the true dangers in this city."

"Who are only a danger because of said exposure."

"Would you rather live your life in ignorance? Go on about your days, thinking the best of a monster?"

"There will always be monsters we aren't aware of." Sighing, Blaine's hazel eyes fell to Hugh's dilapidated sandwich, his gaze distant as the detective's fingers pulled a slice of bacon off some cheese. "But you can't go around looking for them, not when you have a family. It's not fair, and you may end up losing what you're trying to protect."

"Maybe there are things you must let go so they stay safe," Hugh whispered through a tight throat. He couldn't meet his best friend's gaze, and swore if the bacon's scent strengthened anymore, he'd barf. So he pushed the food away, burying his clammy face into his hands.

"Would you…actually chose them over Rina?"

"It's not a choice," Hugh muttered.

"Oh?" Blaine scoffed. "Is that what you're going to tell her? Will that make her sleepless nights and evening's staring at the door in hope any better?"

"Blaine, please—"

"No"—the blonde leaned forward, pulling Hugh's hands away from his face—"we can stop this. We don't have to be involved with the shadows. Kyle doesn't have to be a mole, Samuel can be forgotten, and we don't have to give up our families to fight an underground war."

Hugh flashed a bitter smile despite his friend's glare. "You're tied to them too, Blaine. If you cut them out of your life, Kaiya would never forgive you—especially not since you told her she could train with Michelangelo. They're good people, and they have enough enemies."

"I'm not suggesting we become their enemies."

"Turning our backs on them is no better. I…I can't do that."

"What about Rina's back?"

Hugh glanced sideways as if he'd been slapped. Maybe he might as well have been; his whole body tingled and slumped down further in his seat as he watched the sun's morning rays beat against early traffic beyond the restaurant's glass front. 'Why can't I stand by them all?' he thought. 'I wonder…what would happen if Rina met them instead. She'd get a kick out of Mikey for sure. If she can get past the shell…'

"Way to tell me no one would be home, Hugh."

"Damien?" Hugh glanced up at the younger African-American standing cross-armed at the booth. "What're you talking about?"

"Does 'you can come over for breakfast more often if you want' ring a bell?"

"Did you go to my house?"

"Wouldn't have been such a letdown if at least Marina was home. I wanted Ken to taste her chocolate chip pancakes."

Following Damien's nod, Hugh's gaze fell to the shorter and far paler male by Blaine's seat. The wavy haired teen gnawed on his bottom lip, his eyes darting around the restaurant before they met the detective.

"It's safe, Ken," Hugh said when Kenneth rubbed his palms against his jeans.

"M—m—maybe," Ken replied. His eyes performed another sweep. Then, he leaned against the booth's wooden backrest as if it sheltered him and grew quiet.

"So what's going on?" Damien questioned while taking a seat beside Hugh. "I thought she was home every morning."

"D—did something ha—happen to her?"

Hugh couldn't help glaring at Ken. "She's fine."

"I wouldn't use those exact words," Blaine grumbled into his breakfast sandwich.

"Shut up, Blaine."

"Wow, someone's in a mood this morning."

Hugh groaned at Donna's voice before her face appeared between two plotted ferns stationed on the thick wall divider towards his left. Their long leaves hid her well, framing her cheeks while giving the impression that only her head existed. She smiled brightly with her wide mouth, unfazed by how silly she looked, but not long after Noah's disembodied voice sounded.

"There are people wanting to sit there, Don; get down."

The blonde huffed before complying, leaving Hugh to shake his head as the duo rounded the corner booth to stand by their coworkers. He was far too tired to lift his head from his hand, and so regarded them lazily with a sidelong glance.

"That frown's been there all week," Donna noted. "Is there any way we can turn it around?"

"Not everyone can smile twenty-four seven like you, Donna," Noah added. "Leave him alone."

"Is this about Doughnut's transfer to our precinct?"

"I could care less where that fat suck-up is," Hugh countered.

"Besides," Noah interjected, "that transfer was months ago. Why would he be upset now?"

"Good point. What about Samuel? Did he take your breakfast again?"

Hugh rolled his eyes. "What am I? Five?"

"Then maybe you're upset about Kyle? He transferred too, but still considers us his precinct. Wait." Donna paused dramatically then leaned into the group's center, her words low yet exaggerated. "Are you worried he'll turn to the dark side? Have his updates stopped?"

"That's not it," Hugh snapped with a rough shake of his head. He hoped the jerk would transfer him somewhere else, but when he leaned against the wall Donna has used as a prop, the same five pairs of eyes stared back at him. "Kyle updates when he can. He's early into the program, partnered with Doughnut at that. He has to be careful."

"Wouldn't we get more intel from the guy Donna's got stashed away?" Noah asked, dark gaze set on the impish blonde.

"For past matters? Yes. But to know more about the Hubs and…side projects, we need Kyle."

"I forgot Doughnut went into the program as well," Donna mused.

"Doesn't matter," Hugh said stoically. "We've kept minimal contact with Kyle to dissuade suspicion. Bishop hasn't returned to the precinct nor have we gotten any calls. I count that as a plus."

"Then why do you look like someone's tearing your heart in two?"

Donna was simply worried, Hugh knew. She laughed through her question, yet it was riddled with fear and pain. The detective felt small under her wide green eyes at the table's end—so much so that he drew his hand to his lap, his head barely lifted by what remained of his will to keep face.

"I'm just a little confused about my place," he replied in an undertone.

"You?" The blonde cocked her head, her smile still grim. "But you're the most assured out of everyone."

"Usually."

Hugh wouldn't fake a smile, not for these people. They would see right through it, anyway, and so he jabbed Damien's side to get the younger African-American to move. When he did, Hugh slid from the bench seat then gestured for his friends to take his spot.

"Hugh—" Blaine started.

"It's okay." Hugh regarded the glum blonde with a sturdy stare. "Can't keep anything down, so what's the point? Besides, Kyle's supposed to contact me with another update at the precinct. He went drinking with a couple of agents called Murphy and Evens last night, and now has something a little more…substantial. I'll see you guys later."

Did they wish him luck or bye? Hugh didn't know; everything grew into white noise by the time he headed for the restaurant's door..

A/N: Storm strikes next chapter in "May Showers". Meanwhile, why not leave a review? ;)