She reached out a hand slowly, carefully. Shaky fingers brushed across the skin of his forearm, so gently they barely touched flesh. Leathery. His skin was leathery. She swallowed--hard--and retracted her hand. She stared at him speechless, her eyes widening in wonder, surprise and...fear.

"It's okay." He said quickly, offering a small, awkward smile. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

"You--you're...real..." She found her voice at last.

"Yeah..." He lowered to the couch with a cocky smile. "I guess I am...sorta."

She just stared at him some more in silence, a million thoughts rushing through her head at once. How could this be? Was she dreaming? It didn't feel like a dream. Was he really exactly how the comics portray? Was he hostile? How much did she really know about him? What were his intentions?

She knew she should be jumping up and down with joy and screaming madly at the top of her lungs, because of course, this was even better than winning the lottery. After all, any of her online friends in this situation would probably be doing just that. One thing she knew--she was going to have to send out an email about this. But...who would believe her?

He was eyeing her carefully, as if worried that anything he said might upset her. She seemed very on edge to him. It wasn't exactly what he'd expected when he'd decided to come here. But then, what did he expect? He was dying to talk to her, to tell her everything he'd witnessed, everything that was about to unfold, but he took a deep breath, swallowing his impatience. He must give her time, as Splinter had explained.

She knew she should be chatting incessantly with him. After all, she'd only been wanting to meet him since she was fourteen. But that was make-believe, the things of fairy tales and fanfiction. Ahh...fanfiction. How many times had she secretly written herself into her own stories, fantasizing about the four warrior brothers? But that was the problem. Those stories weren't real. And if she hadn't gone completely insane, this was.

"Tell me..." she swallowed again. "Tell me this isn't a dream."

"You're not dreaming." The change in his tone from light-hearted curiosity to seriousness caught her off guard.

They sat in silence for a few moments more. She was trying desperately to collect her thoughts. She didn't want him to know she was afraid of him. She'd seen how heartbroken they'd all become in the comics when a stranger ridiculed them for being different or ran away in terror. How much more would it hurt to know that one of his biggest fans was frightened of him? But as she watched him--the casual way he crossed his ankle over his knee as he sat, how he glanced around at the furniture and knickknacks in the room with childlike wonder, the way his eyes seemed to literally light up from behind with a warm glow--her fear quickly began to fade.

For the first time since he'd appeared here, she allowed herself to really look at him. He was everything she imagined him to be, yet nothing like what her eager mind had conjured up at all. His skin, as she'd already noted, was leathery--sort of rough and scaly, almost like a real turtle's. She'd expected that, yet thought it would be a bit smoother. His facial expressions were like nothing she'd ever seen. His smile lit up his entire face, his eyes giving off that intimidating radiant glow. His hands were big, almost clumsy looking, the faintest trace of nails at the fingertips. His shell was smooth and hard, and shinier than she would have guessed. On instinct, she started to reach a hand out to touch it, then thought the better of it. And his muscles--well, those were everything she'd been hoping for and more. He was here with her, in the flesh, and yet something about his appearance seemed...fake, as if he'd been snatched from the very pages of a comic book. As her curiosity grew, she found her sight wandering to his lower extremity. She spotted his tail, curled up beneath his shell against the couch cushion. It was on the large side. Then again, he was a male, and male turtles are known for their big tails. Speaking of big and male...

"Ummm..." He cleared his throat, tearing her away from her thoughts, which were rather on the impure side. Her eyes lit up in surprise when she noticed that he had been studying her just as intently. Her face heated up in embarrassment. Had he realized what she'd been thinking?

"I need to umm..." He rose to his feet, gesturing toward the hallway.

"Oh, uhh...yeah." She stood as well, pointing. "First door on your right."

"Thanks." He flashed her a smile, then shut the door behind him.

She sank to the couch, her heart racing. Was he really in her bathroom? The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and she began to laugh, adrenaline pumping through her so fiercely, it sent tears streaming down her cheeks.

My god... she thought to herself. Michaelangelo is in my house! He's real! This can't be really happening...but it is! And out of everyone he could have gone to, he chose me!

Then her mind began to wander again, and she found herself wondering just what sort of position he stood or sat in while trying to go to the bathroom with that shell in the way, and she lost all control.

Mike sat on the closed toilet lid, elbows resting on his knees. How would he ever do this? Why was he here? He was nervous. Only now was he really starting to come to terms with how serious this really was. His entire life depended on this moment. Literally.

But it wasn't just that. It appeared she'd caught him staring, and it wasn't as if he'd only been looking at her face. But it wasn't his fault. Hell, he'd hardly been around any human females. He couldn't help but be curious. Besides, there was nothing wrong with looking, right? And speaking of looking, it seemed as though she'd been distracted with a certain area of his anatomy as well.

With that thought in mind, he flushed the toilet so she wouldn't be suspicious, and hurried out into the living room again.

He found that she was more relaxed now, a smile lighting up her face where he had previously seen only apprehension. He returned the gesture and walked toward her, trying to remain as casual as is possible for one who is burdened with the urgency of being on the brink of extinction. She was still trying to get used to the way he moved. Every step seemed to possess such power and control, his eyes ever watchful and alert. He started toward the loveseat, but paused a few feet away, doubt clouding his mind once more.

She bit her lip, a coy smile forming beneath white teeth. "You can sit here if you want."

She scooted over a little to allow him room. He accepted with a hearty smile.

"You know, your couches are really comfortable."

Why did that give her the strangest sense of deja vu? Hadn't he said something similar to April in the Mirage comics when he first visited her apartment?

"Thanks." She realized she hadn't been as polite as usual. She was, after all, the host. "Can I get you something to eat or drink?" She was already up and walking toward the kitchen.

"Got any pizza?"

She froze in her tracks and turned around, eyeing him suspiciously. A big grin spread across her face. Mike laughed.

"Just kidding. But a soda would be great."

She remembered a couple of pictures of him and his brothers with soda cans. "Mountain Dew, right? I don't have any--"

"Nahh...Donnie's the one that likes that junk. I think it's cuz the caffeine keeps him up all night so he can tinker with his projects."

So Donatello really does stay up half the night with his computer and experiments. Interesting...

"Okay, so...rootbeer? Pepsi? 7up?"

"Rootbeer sounds good."

She hurried to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, taking out two IBC rootbeers. Hubby's gonna kill me for finishing up his soda, she thought. Oh well...this is a special occasion. She couldn't help but grin as she carried the bottles to the living room.

"Awesome." Mike grabbed the bottle from her and downed half of it in one swallow. She watched, mesmerized.

"So..." she said at last. "Why are you here?"

"Hmmm?" He shot her a sideways glance.

"I mean, it's great that you came here...I can't tell you how honored I feel. I've always wanted to--" She looked him in the eyes--those big, light brown pools of kindness. It appeared that there was sorrow hidden beneath there somewhere. "But I know you came here for a purpose. There's something you want me to do..."

Mike nodded. "Yeah. I wish I could say this was just a pleasure visit..." He grinned, then his entire body grew solemn. "But, I need your help."

"Mike...?" She didn't like his tone of voice, the darkness that had crept into his eyes.

"Something really monumental is about to happen. I mean...it could happen. And it will if you can help me."

She wet her lips and stared at him in anticipation. "What is it?"

"I need you...to help me live."