~TEASER~

THIS IS NOT PART OF DON'S PARADISE. IT IS A TEASER CHAP OF MY NEW FIC, FINDING MIKEY, AS A THANK-YOU TO THE MANY KIND REVIEWERS AND READERS WHO'VE LEFT COMMENTS AND ADDED DP TO THEIR FAVS AND ALERTS LISTS.

FINDING MIKEY WILL APPEAR TOMORROW, WITH NEW CHAPS DAILY, JUST AS I DID WITH DON'S PARADISE. THANKS ONCE AGAIN! :)

They are living in what I envision to be either Splinter's original den, or one soon after, just before they move into what became the first Lair from the first season series. Therefore, I refer to it as the "Den" rather than the "Lair" to avoid possible confusion.

Mikey's such a sweet character, he was a lot of fun to write. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I've enjoyed writing. :)

Reviews are welcome (glomped upon)heh, as always.

And oh, yeah, before I forget. I own nothing of any value. *sob*, but appreciate the actual owners for all the joy they've brought to my (ongoing) childhood with the TMNT.

Chapter 1 -Mikey-

Michelangelo whimpered. He was hardly conscious now. The cold hours of calling for Master Splinter, for Don, Leo, Raph, anyone, and the pain in his arm and pounding head, had taken their toll on his young body. There was nothing left for him to do but wait. Wait, and hope someone found him. He hoped it would be soon.

Why'd I go so far, anyway? Master Splinter always says not to wander from the den. He told me the sewers were dangerous to a young turtle. He told me there might be humans down here. Donnie was the one who told me about alligators though. Michelangelo forced his eyes open, and peered hazily into the darkness.

I wish Donnie hadn't told me about the alligators. I wish Raphie was here. No alligators would come around if Raph was here. Despite his best efforts, his eyes slid closed again.

He didn't hear the footsteps approaching, the clatter and thud of the fall, or the voice of the woman who tripped over the skateboard. "Oh! What's this? Looks like an old, broken skateboard. Ow, that hurt," she muttered. "How on earth did that get down here? Amazing the junk we find…"

"You ok, Jackie?" The radio on her collar crackled with static.

"I'm fine," she transmitted. "I'll check this line, and pack it in for the night, ok?"

"You got it."

Jackie Flanagan moved cautiously, moving her light along the wall. She was more sure-footed than most in the darkened tunnels.

A sewer rat, born and bred, she thought with a smile. Like her daddy and uncle before her, Jackie was a New York City employee, charged with maintaining and repairing the network of sewer tunnels, electrical cables, gas and water lines which ran under the city streets.

Tripping over an unconscious half-grown mutant turtle in the dark was definitely not a situation covered in the employee handbook, but Jackie took it rather well, all things considered.

"HOLYCRAPWHAT THE HECKISTHAT?" she squealed.

Fortunately, Michelangelo was past hearing her at that point. Jackie leaned back against the wall, her heart thudding like a runaway freight train against her ribs. She played her light slowly over the creature. At first, she thought it must be a child wearing an elaborate Halloween costume, but when she gathered the courage to actually touch the thing, she realized this was no costume. The creature, whatever it was, was real.

Instinctively, she reached for the radio, but her hand stopped before she could touch the button. She imagined Mitch and the other guys' faces when they saw the… turtle? Mitch was always reading those tabloid magazines. He would sell this thing in a heartbeat. Jackie felt bad for the creature. Whatever it was, it didn't deserve to be locked in a cage, or cut up on some scientists' table.

Making a decision, she touched the mike's "send" button. "Mitch? Jackie here."

"Yeah, Jackie? You about finished? It's meatloaf night. Gina will want me home on time."

"I'm just about finished up down here, Mitch. Why don't you go ahead and log me out, and go on home? I'm going to take the 3rd Street manhole and head home. I'm almost there already, and I'm beat. I'll call you from my cell as soon as I'm topside, ok?"

"Well…"

"It's meatloaf night, Mitch. Go. Make Gina remember why she puts up with you."

Mitch's rich baritone laughed over the radio waves. "Ok, Jackie, but you be sure to phone in the instant you hit pavement, ok? Don't make me come down there and look for you, or Gina will have my head."

"Don't worry, Mitch. I'm a Flanagan. How much trouble can I get into down here?"

Jackie heard Mitch chuckle. "My point exactly."

"I'll call. Don't worry. Now go."

"Mitch out."

Jackie approached the creature, tentative at first, but then more boldly, sure it was either unconscious or… She carefully pushed it to its side. She winced when she saw its right arm, hanging at an unnatural angle, and what appeared to be bruising around its… face?

Its arms and legs were scraped, as if it'd taken a bad fall on the concrete. Jackie shuddered, imagining the myriad of germs in the sewer infecting those raw scrapes. One laceration on its thigh looked particularly nasty, a jagged rip in the green skin that left muscle exposed. It looked like the creature had bled quite a lot from that cut.

It feels so cold, Jackie thought, touching its… arm? It certainly looked humanoid, as if it walked on two legs, despite the green skin and the shell.

She lifted it up, elevating its head carefully, praying there weren't injuries to its back or neck. She trusted to its shell to have protected its spine. The creature was light, perhaps only seventy or eighty pounds. Jackie felt her heart twist as she brushed her fingers over its head, checking for injuries. The gangly arms and legs seemed almost too long for the shelled body. She was oddly reminded of her seven-year old half-brother, Trevor.

"Hey there, big guy," she said softly, stroking its face. "Come on, why don't you wake up?" She laid a hand on its plastron, and, to her great relief, felt its chest rise and fall steadily. It was breathing. It was alive.

"Well, I can't just leave you here," she spoke, half to herself. "And I sure can't call 911. Whatever you are, I can't imagine what the cops would do with you, or the hospital. Probably call the FBI."

Jackie scowled. Although she was a law-abiding citizen herself, she had no love of the police after her older brother's arrest last month for drunk-in-public. He'd come home with far more bruises than could be accounted for by falling down in his inebriated state. She was certain some of the boys in blue had taken it upon themselves to punish him. No, she wouldn't call the cops.

She considered for a long moment. The creature wasn't so heavy. She could easily hoist him up through the manhole. Yes, that would be best. She'd go up first, move her car closer to the alley, and make sure the coast was clear, then she'd bring him up and out of the sewer to safety. How she would get a three-and-a-half-foot-tall turtle into her apartment unseen, treat his wounds, and handle him once he woke up, well, those were obstacles she could deal with when the time came.

Right now, the creature before her was injured, and he needed her help. She took off her heavy tan-denim jacket and rolled it into a pillow. She tucked it under his head.

"Don't worry. I'll be right back," she said softly to the still form.

It didn't take long for Jackie to transverse the three blocks to 3rd Street. She found her little Toyota right where she'd parked it that morning. Starting the engine, she encouraged the heating system with a practiced slap.

Even in the fine May weather, Jackie was certain the creature would need to be warmed up. She shivered, remembering the icy feel of its skin under her fingertips. She pulled into the alley, and whipped two orange cones out of her hatchback. She set them in the opening to the alley, discouraging any curious passersby's prying. Jackie knew that the best way to get away with anything was to look as if you belonged.

She made the trip down the manhole and back up again, carrying the creature, now wrapped in her tan jacket, over one shoulder. She laid him gently across the back seat of her car, and replaced the manhole cover. For a girl used to hauling the 140-pound manhole covers into place, the roughly seventy pound turtle creature posed no problem.

She gathered her cones, and eased out of the alley. Not a soul showed so much as a flicker of interest in anything she did. NYC sewer workers were such a common sight, she might as well have been a fire hydrant for all the attention anyone paid her. Jackie grinned. Sometimes it paid to be invisible.

Her phone rang, startling her out of her thoughts. Darn it, I forgot to call Mitch, she thought, grabbing the cell.

"Hi Mitch. I was just about to call you," she lied. "I'm topside. On my way home. how's the meatloaf?"

"Jackie, you were startin' to worry me. Is everything ok in that tunnel?"

"Yep, everything's fine, Mitch. I tripped over an old skateboard, can you believe it? Twisted my ankle. I'm ok now though. I'm going home to ice it."

"You ok, Jackie? You need anything?"

"No, Mitch, I'm fine. Maybe I'll take tomorrow off, though, ok?"

"Sure, Jackie, whatever you want. I'll cover with the old man for ya." Mitch's chuckle slid down the line.

"Thanks, Mitch," Jackie smiled. "I appreciate it. You know the boss, he can be a real slave-driver."

"You've got 'im wrapped 'round your little finger and you know it," teased Mitch.

"Yeah, well there are advantages to being the boss' daughter," said Jackie with a smile. Roger Flanagan was a hard boss, but Jackie's position as his only daughter gave her some leverage, and she had a few unused sick days coming anyway.

"See you, ok, Jackie. You rest up, ok?"

"I will. Thanks Mitch. Say hi to Gina and the kids for me. G'night."

Jackie snapped her phone closed and glanced at the creature sprawled across her back seat. Wrapped in the coat, he could almost pass for a sleeping child. Jackie shook her head.

Me, Miss Independent, moved-out-of-the-house-at-sixteen, with a kid? That'll be the day. Though I suppose it would make Dad happy. Well, maybe not a green kid with a shell… but I don't know, knowing Dad, he'd probably declare it his ' very special' grandson, and get it a sewer-worker's jacket and hard hat of its very own.

She parked near the rear entrance to her apartment building, thanking everything holy she'd chosen a second floor apartment, so there weren't many flights to climb. Her first apartment had been on the sixth floor of a dumpy downtown slum. It had been all she could afford at the time, since she was still in school back then, and working nights.

Thank goodness Dad and I reconciled, she thought. The job with the city has worked out really well. It's just too bad he's still married to that harpy, Marie. Our family was happy until she came around. Well, I can't change the past, and at least Dad and I get along now.

She picked the creature up and carried it up to her door, pausing only a moment to unlock the deadbolt before making it inside, unseen.

Jackie hesitated, and decided her bedroom would be the best place to lay the creature. It was obviously injured, and she'd need the room to treat its wounds. She laid it on the floor for a moment so she could spread a clean sheet on the bed.

First things first, thought Jackie. The creature had to be washed, there was simply no way around it. She ran some warm water in the tub, and set him on his back, carefully keeping his head above the water, and washed the wounds gently with soap and water.

Gathering her first aid supplies, she carefully set the broken arm, splinting it with a couple of wooden spoons from the kitchen and wrapping it firmly with torn strips of an old sheet.

Lucky for you my brother Jonah was always hurting himself when we were growing up, she mentally scolded the creature. I was always there to patch him up again. I've had plenty of experience.

Finally, she pulled the edges of the wound on its thigh together, liberally applied antibacterial salve, and laid a gauze patch over it before wrapping the wound firmly with more strips from the old sheet.

There. That's all I can do for you, big guy, she thought, watching its chest rise and fall. Cautiously, she reached out and felt its pulse at its neck. The heartbeat was strong and steady. The creature's skin felt cool and leathery under her fingers, but not so icy-cold as it had been.

Jackie was so busy feeling for its pulse, she didn't notice as its fingers twitched, and it's arm moved, until it groaned softly.

Oh crap. It's waking up.