Full Summary: Not long after Splinter sends Leonardo on a sabbatical, Michelangelo and Raphael betray their cancerous father's wishes and suit up as vigilantes. Turtle Luck often pushes the Hamato Clan's limits. And this time, even their newest allies face the question: can you withstand a hero's burden? Mikey believes they can, and there's someone new in his life who may need his optimism more than anyone. Just who is this Starberry Girl, anyway? And why does her smirk make his stomach flip? [Michelangelo x OC] [Donatello x OC] [Raphael x OC]
Genre: Family, Drama, Romance, Humor, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: Teen for mild to strong language, stressing situations, and blood/violence.

Author's Notes: Hello, and welcome to the fifth installment of the Cause and Effect saga. I won't bore you with details. I just hope you enjoy the ride. Also, I would love to see the return of my Big Six. ;) BIG SHOUT OUT to DUCKIEPRAY. She's my BETA and soundboard, an overall awesome person. Same for Sciencegal. Thanks for the help, guys! Any Italian used is thanks to Arathiana's translations. :D

Disclaimer: TMNT belongs to Eastman/Laird/Nick. Nia Hamato/Anders, Melody Hamato/Gray, Hugh Reese, Sophia Moretti, and any other OCs you may see belong to me. I'm in no way making any money. Thanks.

Chapter 01: Sacrifice

New York's news sucked worse than usual for a Sunday evening. Undoubtedly because the current segment covered Agent Bishop, who had grown into a notable figure during the last half year. Hamato Donatello found the EPF leader's increasing popularity amongst the public detestable. Unfortunately, he knew better than to ignore such a powerful enemy, and thus sat on the Lair's patchwork couch while tinkering with his deconstructed Stealth Watch.

"Remember: tomorrow, May seventh, marks an important occasion for the Earth Protection Force," said May Fields from Channel Six News. She smiled amidst the brunette curls styled out of her eyes, yet the action looked bitter considering her misguided praise. "The organization's headquarters has finally been completed! I'll be joining Police Commissioner Powell in Midtown for its ceremonial opening, at which Agent Bishop will formally announce his interest in hiring new members. Police force is desired, however—"

A sharp click filled the living room before the televisions grew black. Blinking, Donatello turned towards a familiar presence he sensed beside the couch. Melody stood at the end table with a full-metal arm outstretched below her poncho, a remote nowhere in sight. Of course, Don knew she didn't need one thanks to an internal frequency transmitter. He had been the one who installed it, after all.

So, with a small grin, the mutant caught the cyborg's red and blue-gray eyes, saying, "And here you were telling me a transmitter was a waste."

"I did not feel like searching for the controller," Melody countered, monotonous despite her notable scowl.

When she rounded the furniture, her poncho clung around her toned thighs—dangerously so. Don would petition his wife's need for pants under normal circumstances. But considering the lack of company in the living room and what a battle it must've been for her to remember the poncho alone, he kept quiet until she sunk in the cushion beside him. "You didn't sleep long."

"Sleep was not part of the schedule." Clearly, Mel wanted to resist the hand Don brushed through her frazzled, chin-length hair; except a lack in energy laid her organic cheek against his neck.

"It should be," Don said. His three fingers followed the stark contrast between her bleached tips and natural auburn roots, which had grown more prominent within the last few months. While the young woman claimed disinterest in how the half-light-half-dark style looked, the Chūnin had overheard her private debates with the bathroom mirror and smiled at the memory.

"Why are you laughing?" Melody questioned, square features tense.

"No reason."

"Meaning it has something to do with me."

Don withheld a snigger at the lack of doubt in her sharp tone. "Usually does."

"Well you should focus on more important matters. And not Bishop. We have enough stress on our family without noting how far that man's claw is stretching.

"Our family." The words left Donatello somewhat lightheaded, although a jab from his wife's metallic elbow forced him back into reality.

"Forget my wording, Damn Mechanic. Our focus should be on Splinter. He won't stay in stage three forever…"

'Right,' the Chūnin thought while cringing. Regardless of how many months passed, the idea remained unsettling—so much so that the genius sometimes feigned ignorance for sanity's sake. Splinter was fine, he'd tell himself. All the master needed was rest. However, Donny was aware no lie could cure cancer.

"His chronic ailments are near unmanageable," Melody added. "If Recro-12 is not stabilized then the Chondrosarcoma —"

"Will metastasize; I know." Don's curt tone couldn't be controlled; therefore, he gripped Mel's head to keep his next words even. "Sorry. I just—I—I don't like hearing…you know."

Mel gave a nod, her body trembling below her husband's strength. "As much as it hurts, Donny, we must think about aggressive measures."

"Any more aggressive includes surgery."

"Not necessarily. His diet change, aromatherapy, and oils have maintained a relative balance. That said, a pain pump or nerve block therapy would be redundant by now."

"We should target the cancer, not manage it."

"Precisely. While home-made radiation is risky, we could develop our own Chemotherapy supported by his mutation. There's an herbal Chinese alternative to Prednisone for the side-effects."

"Chemotherapy?" Don almost gagged at how sour the sentence tasted on his tongue.

"We could also purchase the drugs on the Black Market."

"Are you serious?"

The half-blonde returned Donny's pointed stare with a listless expression. "I have done so before."

"That doesn't make it any better."

"It gives reassurance."

"How?"

"If worse comes to worse, I know who can get us what is needed."

"Mel—"

"It's coming to worse, Donatello." Mel's tone adopted an edge, heating it alongside her glare. "You favor the high road, but soon you'll have to answer a question: which do you prefer, contacting the Black Market or losing your father?"

The answer was obvious. Even so, its truth disquieted rather than eased Don's conscience when the cyborg continued.

"Our window with Recro-12 is diminishing. Fast. I thought it would lead us down a better path, yet it is more unstable than anticipated. And Nia's body…"

"She's suffering almost as much as Sensei is," Don whispered.

"Her erythrocyte count is notably low. Oxygen circulation must be minimal in her alien heritage."

"It's pretty clear the Languu rely on electricity. They might not even need red blood cells."

"It is possible. Despite the B-12s meant to stimulate blood generation, we are using more than she should spare. So the Anemia is taking a toll."

"Like we can stop her. I've tried, but she keeps…begging."

"Don." Reluctantly, Melody gained the mutant's attention, which had drifted to his wedding bracelet at some point. "Think seriously about this matter."

"I have been."

"You know what I mean."

"I'll make a decision before any sacrifices are made. Okay?"

Mel retained doubts—her blue-gray eye said so. Nonetheless, she nodded, settling into the crook of Don's neck again.

Her above-average body temperature made him shudder then prompted him to draw her closer. "We'll keep working on Recro-12 with LH. Meanwhile, April can help me look into alternatives for Chemotherapy."

"But—"

Don stilled his wife. "You can't do it all, Mel. Besides, schooling with Olson takes up enough time. Contrary to what you might think, you need rest."

"Look who's talking."

"Guess you could say I've found a new respect for how my brothers feel when I'm consumed by a project."

"You work like I do."

"And I refuse to have you work more than me."

"Though I handle it better."

Don smiled, glancing down at the dismantled Stealth Watch in his grip. "I admit, I obsess. It's easy. And hard not to considering Splinter's case. However, I also admit that work suffers if you don't take a step back once in a while. For you, it's school. For me, it's…creating counter measures for the EPF. So, though you see it as stressful, keep the TV on next time?"

Melody huffed—a sign of resignation. She said nothing more as her robotic right hand covered the watch he squeezed, although he knew such actions meant support and consent.

"Thanks," he said. "I'll speak to Raph and Mikey later about the, uh, alternatives. That is, whenever they feel like returning…"

Hamato Michelangelo inhaled the smoggy air from New York's nightlife, reveling in its budding Spring warmth. He stood on a building close to home. Alone. But neither the repetitive drawl of city sounds nor stillness below the waning moon was a bother. Nowadays, he often acted solo, and Raphael's insistence had since brought him to terms with the idea.

'Raphy probably thinks his new identity is too cool for me,' the youngest Hamato thought while snorting. 'Whatever. Nightwatcher is no cooler than Turtle Titan. Sure, he's got a full-body leather suit, but I've got a green one. Plus a cape. With a 'T' on the back! Too theatrical, my shell. Obviously, he just doesn't wanna be seen together.'

Which made sense when Mikey considered it. Donatello may hold a vague idea as to what he and Raph were doing because of spotty news coverage (among other pointers), but two heroic partners would be a dead giveaway. He had to remember, Splinter had banned most Topside activity ever since Leonardo left for South America.

"But I can't do that, Sensei," Mikey said, tracing the thick, black belt across his waist. "It's painful at home…"

Grim, yet true. Watching the strongest figure in your life lose a battle against his body was beyond frustrating. And scary. Not only that, Mikey couldn't help isolate the cancer like Donatello, Melody, April, or Leatherhead. He had nothing to offer the situation like Nia. And he had no support from Leo.

It was suffocating, being so helpless. Not to mention the couple love around him left him with an empty feeling. Watching Raph with Nia, even Don with Melody, always reminded him of what he lacked. And while now was a horrible time to let such things stir him, he couldn't help how envy stung his chest whenever they'd send one other knowing glances or subtly touch.

'I must be cursed. First, Chr—Christina. Then it turns out Nia's into Raph of all turtles…I won't ever get a break, will I?'

Probably not; Turtle Luck often twisted matters for the worse. And try as he may to convince himself that a bachelor's life suited him, he could never fully convince himself because…he did want what his brothers had—no matter what lie he told.

'It's hard maintaining happiness when I keep having to sacrificing it…But I can't let something small like that bother me when there are bigger problems in the works, right?' Despite the truth of his thoughts, the weight on his body didn't lift. 'Come on, Mikey; buck up! Ya can't let a poor love life drag ya down when your father's fighting cancer and most beloved little sister is—is struggling to function. I better get home, check on everyone. Hopefully, Raph's back from patrol...'

And so, with a firm nod and aching heart, Michelangelo descended the building then slipped through the manhole cover in the alley below.

Air came sweetly to Hamato Raphael, though not pleasantly. Breathing burned, and it didn't go unnoticed by his wife, who stared at him with a stony expression from their full-sized bed.

"Raph," she started in a tender voice.

"I said it's alright," the mutant spat. Still, he faltered when turning towards the weight set beside their closed bedroom door.

"You're late.".

"An'?"

"D—don't start that, Huǒ. Please."

Raph flinched at the intimate nickname, 'fire', Nia often used for him; hating the guilt it roused as he braced himself against the brick wall.

"I stayed up since you were gunna be home early this time, but…you barely beat Mikey here."

"An' I thank ya for distractin' Don."

"Look at you; you're hardly standing!"

"Don't exaggerate." The Chūnin straightened to his full five-foot-seven height then grimaced when a sharp pain through his ribcage hunched him. "Kuso."

Not a second later, Nia conquered the cluttered room so she stood beside him, a gentle grip on his forearm protector. "You promised you wouldn't push yourself too far."

"They're just bruised ribs. I've been through worse."

"Huǒ—"

"Look, if ya're gunna call me out on this, then I'll do likewise, Shuǐ." Raph's use of 'water' sounded sterner than Nia's address. Then again, he only uttered the nickname during two circumstances: when they were intimate or he was frustrated. "Ya ain't one ta talk about bein' unable ta stand.'

"What's that mean?" Nia questioned. Her thick brows knitted close over her deep-set eyes, which looked glossy beyond Raph's comfort.

"Ya're swayin'."

"Am not."

"A drunk person would say the same."

"Am not!"

Nia beat his guarded shoulder, albeit with little effort—perhaps in fear it would unbalance him or maybe because she genuinely lacked energy for more force. The latter was the most probable reason in the mutant's book, given the lackluster of her features and light pant. Raph shook his head as she swallowed then guided his wife towards the bed while flinching in his steps. She didn't fight his lead, and when they sat, she leaned against his arm as if it were her sole support in the world.

"I was worried," she whispered.

"I know," Raph said, intertwining their fingers. The stark contrast between his leather gloves and her pale skin borderlined frightening, though the distressed state of her broken fingernails looked worse.

'It's the Anemia,' the mutant thought as his thumb rubbed hers. 'The brittle nails, the short breath, the grumpiness—it all boils down to…'

"Did ya give blood today?" Raphael questioned.

The human tensed. "I—it's Sunday."

"That ain't what I asked."

"You know the answer."

"An' ya know I've been tellin' ya ta cut back—less than just weekends."

"How can I?" Nia pulled away, glaring, although the act seemed more unnatural than intimidating. "Splinter-san's, Otōsan's, time is running out. I—I should sacrifice what blood I can for—"

Raph cut the female off with a pointed stare. "We ain't even sure Recro-12 will work. Matter is, Don may need another plan at this rate. An' what will happen ta ya in the meantime? What use is it havin' both 'a ya sick?"

"I—I'm not that sick."

"Ya are; more than I'm hurt."

She couldn't fight the truth, so she glanced downwards until her thick dark hair almost shielded her face.

"I dun't want ya both ta suffer," the mutant grumbled. "Yer migraines are back. An' I gotta say, they've been hell on the electronics 'round here."

"I try to keep my energy metabolism stabilized," noted Nia through pressed lips. It seemed her husband's light jest went unappreciated.

"Nia," Raph whispered, clenching her hand tighter, "we all wanna save Sensei. But we won't sacrifice ya for him."

"He—"

"Refuses yer offers; stronger than Donny. Stop for a while. Ya could take it at first, but it's been nearly three months. At this rate, ya're killin' yer body. Ya know that."

She did, which is why she shook and her mouth slackened while she turned her glossy gaze upwards. Prickles like needle points crept through Raph's mind when he met her teal eyes—a familiar yet still unpleasant sensation. He ignored their nip then inhaled through the tense silence before saying,

"Ya can't put his life on yer shoulders. It ain't for ya ta bear. I'm thankful for the help, but he ain't the only one who needs ya." Raph's voice cracked near the end, regrettably. He wanted to maintain some strength for his wife, except keeping face felt impossible once the real possibility of losing her hit him.

"E—everything's such a mess," Nia said with a morbid laugh. The grip she brought to Raph's arm felt heartbreaking when she sniffled. "E—even my work at Warner-Frost is in complete disarray. I…I was hoping since Mama was talking again, I could—could gain some stable ground, but…"

"I ain't good enough?"

"It's not that, Raph."

"I know…I wanna meet yer mom too."

Nia sighed. "I was supposed to see her this afternoon."

"Ya didn't?"

"I fell asleep."

"Ta be honest, ya don't look like ya slept at all." The female smiled wryly in response to her husband's smirk, lending him enough courage to pull her backwards with him on the bed.

"I could sleep more," she said into his shoulder.

"So can I," Raph replied as his wife curled against his sore body. He grinned at the comforting sensation, kissing Nia's forehead through her bangs. He would've told her they could talk later or at least bid her goodnight; except by the time his forehead met hers, soft snores sounded from her parted lips.

'She's exhausted,' the mutant thought while closing his eyes. 'Guess that settles that; Don 'n I need ta talk...'