--July 26th, 1998
     “Jesus,” was all Raphael could think to say as he shook his head.  Mona sat quietly beside him on the porch swing, staring at the railing straight ahead.  She had not been able to go back to sleep, so she had gotten up and gone outside.  The sky was just beginning to lighten when Raph joined her.  At first, Mona wouldn’t tell him anything, but after a little coaxing she rattled off the happening of her nightmare.
     “I was so scared. . . “ Mona Lisa released a shuddery sigh.
     “Come on, hon.  It was just a dream.  You’re letting yourself get all worked up over a dream.”  Raph slipped an arm around her.
     “. . . Real. . .  It was so real.”  Raph could barely heard her.
     Raph had never seen Monaso down.  Becoming alarmed, he decided to try to tap into a rare part of himself . . . and be charming.  He gave her several light kisses--on her cheek, on the tip of her beak, and on the corner of her mouth--then took her into his arms comfortingly.  She clung to him as he stroked her hair crooning, “My poor baby.  It’ll be OK. . . “
     After a few minutes, Mona pulled away and smiled at him.  The expression made him feel better and worse.  He could almost see her pushing the terrible dream away, locking it up with all the other memories she’s tried to forget.  Repressing any feelings of anger or fear with her usual perky,  cheerful nature.  ‘Like I do’ Raph thought grimly, ‘except I pretend to be mean and tough.’  “Hon--” He started.
     “Come on, let’s go get breakfast started,” she stood before him, holding out her hands to help him up.
     “. . . Are you gonna be OK?” He asked, eyeing her offer.
     She smiled radiantly at him, “Of course silly.  Let’s go.”  Mona took his hands a pulled him to his feet, then lead him into the kitchen.
     Raph gently moved her into the niche where the two countertops met to form a 90 degree angle, put a hand on each counter to trap her there, then looked at her, “Seriously, are you all right?”
     The eyes that met his were full of love as she smiled at him.  Mona wrapped her arms around his neck, her face close to his, her body pressed to him, “Yes I’m all right.  Thanks for listening to me.”  She pressed her lips to his.  Satisfied, Raph put his arms around her, holding her tightly to him as he returned the kiss. . .
     “Is this a private party, or did you two just forget where you were?”  Came a voice from the stairs.  Raph pulled back and sighed.  Mona peered over his shoulder and said cheerfully, “Hi Mikey.”
     Stepping toward the fridge Raph greeted his brother without looking at him, annoyed at being interrupted, “Morning.”
     “Good morning Raph,”  Mike turned his attention to Mona Lisa.  “Hey Baby, got a ‘good morning’ like that for me?”  He spread his arms toward her.
     Grinning, Mona went to him, giving him a hug and a quick peck on the cheek.  She noticed Mike held her very tightly. . . tighter than usual.  “Oof!  Geez Mike, did you miss me during the night?”
     Pushing away his nightmare, Mike forced a smile, “Can I help it that I’m happy to see you, Good Lookin’?  The night is long.”
     Raph snorted from his stooped position in front of the fridge, drawing their attention.
     “Careful,” Mona smiled, winking, “I’ve got a jealous boyfriend.”
     Mike kissed her cheek and hugged her again, “I hardly blame him,” he whispered in her ear.
     Giggling, Mona wiggled away from him, “Such a flirt!”  Then turned to Raph, “Maybe we should let the ‘Master of the kitchen’ do all the work.”
     “Yeah Raphers!  Step back and let a pro show you how it’s done!”
     Raph sighed and shook his head, “Why me?”
 

--June 31st, 1998
     Finally!  The time was almost right.  Zachary smiled at his work.  Nearly finished at last.  After. . . How long had it been?  Bah, that didn’t matter anymore.  Only one thing mattered now. . .
     Gathering subjects had been easier than he’d expected.  He had four: Lizard, cockroach, dog, and Rat.  They now stood before him, nearly fully developed and ready.  Zachary was pretty sure the mutagen compound was pretty close to that which was used for Her.  If not, it didn’t matter.  They’d lasted this long, maybe they’d be OK for a while longer.  He had a feeling they would destabilize, but he hoped they’d hold out long enough for their mission.
     Rayner--Lizard.  Huge and strong, quite smart with a small vocabulary.  He was taller than Zachary now, and outweighed him, too.  Being the species of lizard he was, a green anole, Rayner could climb walls and ceilings.
     Brock--Cockroach.  Found in a corner of the lab, he’s the smallest of the four.  His intelligence level was quite low, but he followed orders with numb efficiency, like a robot or zombie.  He could squeeze into tight spots easily.
     Fidel--Dog.  A stray found outside the lab, rummaging around the trash.  He’d come to Zachary whistles, wagging his tail and panting happily.  Even in his present state--almost as tall and nearly as smart as Rayner--he was so happy to receive even the slightest praise from Zachary.  Fidel accepted Zachary as his master, and followed orders with extreme devotion.  His jaws, massive and large, were lethal.
     Sheridan--Rat.  Small, quick, mean.  He was that way when Zachary found him in the live trap he’d set.  After mutation, he still had those characteristics.  Though he accepted Zachary as “master” he didn’t always do as he was told, but the other’s helped keep him in line.  Zachary thought that his bitterness was due to his frustration at his inability to communicate.
 Each looked at him now:  Rayner with interest, sensing the rise of excitement in his master, head cocked slightly; Brock blankly, mandibles working ceaselessly; Fidel panting and grinning, gaze full of love for his master; Sheridan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, standing apart from the rest.  All had the bipedal advantage of humans, standing tall and strong, waiting for orders.
     Zachary did as he had done for several nights, pass a soiled cloth under each of their noses.  A link to that which he wanted them to eventually find.  Something he luckily had had in his pocket before the fire:  A sample of blood.  HER blood.  He was not able to use it to copy the chemical levels used to create her, but it did have other uses.  He had poured a tiny bit onto a clean rag and allowed each of them to smell it.  Rayner and Fidel showed the most interest, Brock was unresponsive, and Sheridan pretended not to care, even though he  sniffed the cloth ever time.
     “Soon,” Zachary said, running the cloth under each of their noses once more, “soon you will go on your first mission.”
     Sheridan hissed softly and sniffed the cloth.  Uttering a small, sharp bark, Fidel eagerly inhaled the scent, to him identifiable as a color--Dark, rich green, female--and filed it away in his brain.  Brock’s eyes followed the rag, his feelers quivering, but
    Zachary would not let him have the cloth when he reached, so he chirped.  Rayner delicately sniffed the cloth, a tantalizing odor, then cocked his head at Zachary again.
     “Why?” he croaked, wanting to know why Zachary was doing this.
     “Ah, you’ll find our soon enough, Rayner.”  Zachary stroked Rayner’s large, smooth head.  “You’ll all find out soon enough.”
 

--July 26th, 1998
     Wendy sat quietly at the Meditation spot.  While her body was motionless and relaxed, her mind was churning.  ‘Something’s wrong,’ her mind whispered.  ‘Something’s wrong. . . ‘ but what?  Mona Lisa.  She was sure it had something to do with her friend.  She had been awakened by Leo, who told her she was crying out in her sleep.  Faint images of a nightmare that was not hers were creeping into her subconscious, but Wendy could not retrieve the dream completely.  While Mona did not show it, Wendy sensed something was bothering her.  She’d tried talking to her, but got no where; Mona had already buried her troubles deep within.  Judging from the concerned glances Raph was giving Mona, Wendy decided she had already confided in him, at least a little.  Wendy was glad about this, for at least Mona was talking to SOMEone.  But she also found herself becoming a little jealous, too.  ‘Mona was my friend first!’ a bratty little-child voice rang in her head.  She pushed the thought away.  She couldn’t think like that.  Her friend had found love, but that didn’t mean Mona Lisa didn’t love or need Wendy any more.
     From experience, Wendy knew that these little tickley, troubling thoughts that wouldn’t go away were most likely a warning.  Her wand gave her this semi-psychic ability.  It lay across her lap now, glowing a mellow blue.  At a slight touch, the color shifted to a pale pink--almost white--and very bright.  Clutching the wand tightly with both hands, Wendy focused.  The dream, she sifted through the subconscious, needing to find it, despite her fear.  In a meditative state, the power of the wand reached in, probing the back of her mind, snatching the nightmare, and bringing it forward to her conscious. . .
     Horrible scenes of death and torture came to her as Wendy re-lived a shared nightmare.  In Wendy’s ears, she could hear the screams of pain and terror as her friends were twisted and torn apart.  Fearsome Animal-like howls mingled with the cries.  A mental whisper--Mona’s voice--’Help me, Please,’ drifted to Wendy’s mind. . .
     She was jerked out of her trance by a touch.  “My student, what’s wrong?”  Splinter’s voice was full of concern.
     The rat sat beside her as Wendy caught her breath.  After a few moments, she told him everything she had seen and heard.  She kept nothing from Splinter.  He listened quietly as Wendy completed her recap of the nightmare.  “I can’t help feeling that it means something.”
     “Dreams can be quite powerful,” Splinter nodded.  “If you feel this way, there is surely a reason for it.  Perhaps you should talk to Mona Lisa.”
     “I tried that,” Wendy sighed, “But she wouldn’t talk to me.  She’s already buried it.”
     “Then something is surely disturbing her as well.  You must keep your mind open for such warning signs, but do not endanger yourself.”  Splinter’s voice was stern.
     “Yes, Sensei.”
     Splinter’s tone softened, “This is why I did not pair you with Mona Lisa.  It is apparent that the bond you share is already strong from the amount of time you have spent together.”  He slowly stood, “Now come along.  A sparing session will clear your troubled mind.”  The rat smiled at Wendy’s groan.