"i got issues
but you got 'em too
so give 'em all to me
and I'll give mine to you."
___________

A/N: So...it's been a while since I updated this story. I apologize for that. I lost motivation to write, as well as interest in TMNT, so I ended up abandoning this book for a while. I'm back in a TMNT kick now and I felt bad that I didn't get to give this story an ending, but it deserves one and care about these characters a lot, so I'm going to do my best to see it through. If you're still here, thanks for sticking around! I appreciate you :)

I went back and made some minor edits to the way I wrote this story, but the most important change I made was Scarlet's injury. She now has a sprained wrist instead of a fractured arm. Everything else is the same.

Also, (old) art of Scarlet by me ^_^

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Scarlet wakes to the pitter-pattering of rain.

She moves to sit up as best as she can as her mouth gapes in a yawn. Judging by how unusually well-rested she feels, she must've been asleep for at least a few hours. Her eyes travel to the nearest window, where she can see through the grime that it's dark and stormy outside, raindrops tapping gently against the glass. It's rather peaceful, and she enjoys another five seconds of tranquility before all her worries and doubts come rushing back to her.

She goes rigid as her thoughts snap to her belongings. That Raphael character didn't take it, did he? Sure, he didn't seem like he was interested in her stuff, but one can never be too careful. For all she knows, he could've taken off with her stuff while she was asleep and and left her here and-

Oh, no, never mind. Her bag is right where she left it, right behind her since she'd fallen asleep on it. She breathes a sigh of relief.

"The rain sure has great timing, doesn't it?"

The sudden voice makes Scarlet jump and squeak in fright. Instinctively, she scrambles for her pocket knife and points it toward the sound. She gazes up to see Raphael lounging in the rafters like a freakishly huge cat, looking thoroughly unimpressed by her attempt at self-defense.

"You don't have to be so skittish," he states with a clear edge to his tone. "I've already said I'm not gonna hurt you."

Scarlet feels her skin heat up and she hides her face, lowering her knife. "Sorry...force of habit."

"Hmph." The turtle grunts and hops from the rafters, landing on a pile of crates a couple feet above her. "Whatever. At any rate, I'd rather not take you home in the rain. You've already got a messed up wrist. You don't need a case of pneumonia, too. The storm just started, so hopefully it'll wrap up soon enough."

The word "home" makes Scarlet bite her lip. She shifts so that she's sitting with her legs crossed, her bandaged hand resting in her lap. "So...I'll be here a while, then?"

"Looks like it."

"In that case, I have questions."

"About?"

"Everything," she blurts. "About you, about what happened the other night, about what the heck is going on in this city!"

"That's a can of worms that goes pretty deep."

"We've got time, don't we?"

He eyes her for a few moments, annoyance evident on his face, then grunts and rolls his eyes. He leaps down from the pile of crates and Scarlet flinches back as he lands almost directly in front of her. "You get three questions," he decides as he sits down on top of yet another crate. "Ask wisely."

"Only three," she repeats, pouting a little. "Don't you think that's a little unfair?"

"Nope. And that was your first question."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Two questions down."

"Okay, stop." Scarlet huffs and crosses her arms. "How about five questions? I won't ask you any more after that, promise."

"You don't need to know that much. Let's compromise...you get four."

"Deal. Okay. Um...first question." Scarlet pauses to think, tapping her chin. "How do you...exist?"

"'Scuse me?"

"You're a giant talking turtle. How?"

"I'm a mutant. I was born a regular turtle, then some crazy science fiction stuff happened, and now I'm this handsome picture of strength."

Scarlet bites back a snort. "A mutant," she repeats, mulling over the word. A day ago she would've found the idea utterly insane, but the past twenty four hours have proven that maybe anything is possible. "Are there more of you out there?"

Raphael's expression of stone shifts the slightest bit. "Yeah," he admits after a moment's hesitation, "but don't go looking for 'em. Not all of them are as chill as I am."

She can't hold back a snort this time. "You don't seem like the chillest guy."

"Lay off and finish asking your questions."

The brunette frowns at his snappiness, but nevertheless she returns to her little interview. "Those men that attacked me. Were they really aliens?"

"Yeah. Bunch of freaks who call themselves the Kraang. They come from another dimension and like to mess around here on Earth, but my br—uh, I—do my best to stop them."

"Aliens and mutants." Scarlet shakes her head, suddenly feeling completely and utterly overwhelmed. "What else is hiding in this city?"

"More than your little brain could possibly imagine." Raphael leans forward and rests his chin in his hand, giving her a slight smirk. "Alright, that was four. My turn."

Scarlet blinks. "I didn't realize this went both ways."

"You can pry about me, but I can't ask about the stranger I'm lending my home to?"

The girl sighs and fiddles with her braid a bit. "Right, sorry. Go ahead."

"Hmm...okay, give me a real answer this time. What the heck were you doing out by yourself the other night?"

Scarlet hopes she doesn't look as nervous as she feels. She's not sure how ready she is to admit her true situation to a stranger, nor is she sure she wants to know how he'd respond to it. "I was just going for a walk," she replies, the lie rolling smoothly off her tongue from years of experience.

"Alone at night?"

"I do it all the time and never have problems. I just...got unlucky that night."

His expression is dubious. "Your parents seriously never worry about you?"

"I already told you, no." Her fingers start to tug harder at her braid and she forces herself to hold still. "They don't worry about much anymore."

"Hm." The turtle's lip purses. "Where are you from?"

"Nowhere."

He responds with a "seriously, kid?" stare. "Nowhere important, anyway," she mutters, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "You're out of questions. Let's talk about something else."

"Touchy subject, huh?" Raphael arches an eye ridge. "I guess I can't talk. I'm not from anywhere important, either."

"So we're just two nobodies from nowhere?"

"Pretty much."

Scarlet manages a dry laugh. "Fun."

They lapse into silence. Scarlet starts picking at her braid again, staring at the floor, and Raphael's gaze moves to the window.

"Okay, I'm bored," he says, getting up and starting toward it. Scarlet watches as he stares out into the rainy city for a few moments, his hands furling into fists and unfurling again, before he starts to pace back and forth.

"You want to go out," Scarlet observes.

"You don't?" He doesn't look away from the window. "This city's alive with possibilities. There's something around every corner out there just waiting to be found. If it wasn't pouring outside–" he stops to launch a few punches at the air, grunting, "–that's where I'd be."

Scarlet says nothing more.

It storms on and off for the rest of the day. Raphael spends his time fighting boredom by sparring with himself, the best substitute he can get for some real action. Scarlet watches him punch, kick, twist, and flip with curious eyes, feigning disinterest by playing with her hair or fiddling with her knife when he catches her staring. By the time night finally falls, it's raining again, much to the turtle's frustration.

"I'm starting to think the universe doesn't want you to go home," he grumbles as he glares at the raindrops falling past his eyes.

"Fine by me," Scarlet mutters a little too loud. Raphael's questioning gaze locks on her and her stomach drops.

"I just..." Her brain scrambles for a convincing lie. It finds one and she runs with it. "Things are a little...rough at home. I could use some time away."

Raphael's expression remains stoic as ever, but his eyes betray what looks like...sympathy. She pats herself on the back mentally—her little story must have resonated with him.

"How much time?" he asks.

It's a good question. Exactly how long did she plan to stay holed up in this warehouse? Certainly not forever. It's his home, not hers, and she's better off on her own anyhow. Still, it'll be a while before her wrist heals fully, and it's admittedly pretty nice having a roof over her head. If he lets her, maybe...just maybe...she can stay a bit longer, just long enough to fully recover and get back on her feet. After that, she'll be out of his non-existent hair for good.

"As much time as you'll give me."

He hesitates. "You sure no one will miss you?"

"Positive."

Silence. The turtle looks away, eye ridges creased and lips puckered in deep thought. Scarlet doesn't take her eyes off him, her gut churning with anxiety and heart fluttering with hope.

"Okay, kid." Raphael finally turns to look at her, looking defeated. "You can stay until that wrist of yours heals some. But if you're gonna be living under my roof, let's set some ground rules, yeah?" She nods. "Don't touch anything, don't make noise, and do not annoy me. I'm a vigilante, not a babysitter. Oh, and don't get too comfortable. As soon as that sprain gets better, you're going right back home where you belong, where you can forget any of this ever happened. Got it?"

He swears he can see something flicker in the girl's eyes at his last instruction, but she only nods again. "Got it."

"Good."

He turns away from her, taking a moment to stretch out his muscles in an effort to break the quiet that follows.

"Raphael?"

He looks at her over his shoulder. "What?"

"Thank you."

The words are spoken quietly. Her arms are crossed over her body, head lowered so that their eyes just barely meet. She's pitiful, he thinks, but there's something about the way she's gazing so shyly at him that makes him just a little less annoyed.

"Sure," he says.

He turns back around, unaware of the tiniest of smiles the little girl sends his way.