A/N: This story was inspired by a RPG on a TMNT roleplaying site called Masked Mayhem. The plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it down. Hope you enjoy the story.

Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with TMNT. I only own the OCs.

The heat was intense; the pain excruciating. Fire surrounded her; preventing her from escaping. Somewhere in the distance she could hear voices...men's voices. If she could get to them, maybe they could help her. Coughing violently and with blurry vision, she slowly began making her way towards the source of the voices. She couldn't breathe; her lungs screamed for oxygen. Instinctively, she took a breath, but the air was filled with too much smoke. She was sent into another violent coughing fit. The voices were drifting away.

"Help," she tried to call. "Help...please."

The voices had all but disappeared. She was alone. She was going to die here, alone and afraid. She stopped when she heard a creaking sound. A scream tore from her torched throat as the ceiling caved in on her.

Tang Shen's eyes shot open, wide with fright. She looked around, finding herself in her small apartment. She glanced over at the clock on her nightstand. The green numbers read: 3:05 a.m. Shen sighed and allowed her body to relax back into the soft mattress. She didn't have to get up for another hour. However, even though she tried to get back to sleep, it eluded her. Shen opened her eyes and looked at the clock again. 3:10 a.m. Giving up on sleep, she pushed back the blankets; shivering in the cold early morning air. Shen stepped into her slippers and pulled her housecoat around her body, tying the belt snuggly around her waist. Shen yawned as she made her way out into the kitchen, scratching lightly at a tickle on the back of her head.

Shen walked into the kitchen and headed over to the coffee machine. She went through the process of making herself a pot of coffee. As she waited for the coffee to perk, Shen went back into her room and got dressed in her uniform. She was a house cleaner, and though it wasn't by any means a glamorous job, she enjoyed it. When she was finished dressing, Shen went back out into the kitchen to find the coffee pot filled. She opened a cupboard and took down a mug. Lifting up the coffee pot, she poured the steaming brew into the mug. After replacing the pot, Shen held the mug in her hands, lifting it up to her face and taking in a deep breath, savoring the rich, bold scent. She was mostly a tea person, but every now and then there was nothing like the taste of coffee to wake up the senses.

As she drank her coffee, Shen thought back on the dream. It wasn't the first time she had had the dream, but it hadn't occurred in a while, so she didn't give it a second thought. Shen lifted a hand to her neck where the skin was scarred from a severe burn. A lot of her body was covered in burn scars. She knew she must have been in a fire, but she had no memory of ever being caught in a fire. She wouldn't have known her own name if she hadn't found that half burned birth certificate.

Shen finished her coffee and placed the empty mug in the sink to clean later. She went into the bathroom to freshen up before grabbing her coat and keys. It was time to face another day of back breaking work.

Being a house cleaner, Shen heard things about her clients that she really didn't care to hear. She hardly knew them, and yet she knew everything about them at the same time. Once she even had to play councillor to a distraught teenaged girl who had just broken up with her boyfriend; as if Shen had any experience with matters of the heart. But, it turned out the girl just needed someone to listen as she talked herself out of her depression until she was feeling better.

This one day, though, as Shen was dusting the main living room, she couldn't help but overhear the man and woman of the house talking. They were talking about cases of missing people that had gone cold for years until a private detective was given the cases. As she worked, Shen listened intently.

"They say it's like this guy can get inside people's heads," the husband said. "Like he knows exactly what you're thinking just by looking at you."

"I find that a little hard to believe," the wife commented. "Unless he's some kind of psychic, then maybe it might be possible."

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" the husband asked.

"What do you mean?" his wife asked back.

"You're always looking for the hottest new psychic."

Shen could picture the wife rolling her eyes. If this private investigator was as good as they were saying, then maybe he would be able to help Shen recover her memories. She just needed the name of the office and where it was located.

"So, where is this psychic P.I.?" the wife asked.

"Downtown Manhattan. The NYPI office," her husband replied.

Shen smiled. She finished up her cleaning and packed up the supplies. She grabbed her coat, bid her clients farewell for another day and headed downstairs. She hailed a cab, climbed in and told the driver where she wanted to go. Shen settled back in the seat, gazing out the window and watched the buildings and other cars go by. Her stomach felt like she had swallowed a large group of fluttering butterflies. Shen hoped and prayed that this P.I. would be able to help her. She couldn't continue living not knowing who she was.

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