"Wha-… who… Allison?"

"Welcome back to the world of the living, Rob," Allison joked. She was kneeling on the floor, smiling up at the man seated in a chair in the back of the turtles' van. "I had hoped to get you tucked away in bed before you woke up, but you must be even more hardheaded than I had thought."

Robert blinked his eyes, trying to figure out where he was. Sitting in similar chairs up ahead and looking back at him were Raphael and Michelangelo. The latter turtle grinned at him and waved the hand that wasn't holding a sleeping Rosalind. "Hiya. Remember us?"

Putting a hand to the knot on the back of his head, Robert asked what happened. Tip-toeing around the answer, Allison replied, "Well, I had to deal with a screaming convention rep who got mad at us for constantly leaving the table without telling anyone and who wanted to know why you were unconscious, and then I had to talk my boyfriend out of making numerous vague threats become a very harsh reality-"

"She's lucky she's good at talkin', too," Raphael commented.

"Then I had to claim that you were epileptic and left your medications at home, and since I didn't want to worry your poor elderly mother, I had no choice but to leave the convention early and make sure you got back safe. Then Rosalind got upset because of all of the bad words the rep used, inciting Raphael to throw in a few bad words of his own-"

"Mine were more colorful," Raphael remarked.

"Then we loaded you into the van and Donatello's driving us to your place where I had intended to nurse you into some semblance of health. You just missed a rather unique rendition of 'Hush Little Baby' as Mike tried to sing Rosalind to sleep, and lo and behold, it actually worked."

"What can I say?" Michelangelo shrugged. "I'm a natural."

Robert looked at each person who spoke, obviously not coming to any sort of understanding. Lowering his hand, he muttered, "I was trying to keep track of the number of things that were wrong with that monologue and the number of ways you successfully made me forget what my original question had been, but I seem to be having trouble processing numbers at the moment. So I'll be a little more clear. How exactly did I come to this state of unconsciousness?"

Allison looked at the turtles, unsure of what to say. Finally, Michelangelo simply replied, "After realizing that you were brainwashed by an evil dragon that came back from the dead to destroy us all, Raph had no choice but to put your lights out before you decided to go for our jugulars."

Robert blinked at Michelangelo, not knowing what he was expected to say. Finally, he told him, "Okay, first you're going to hand me back my daughter. After that, you're going to take the flask that you're hiding in your shell and dump it out, promising never to touch the stuff again. Then you're going to tell me what really happened."

"Rob," Allison said quietly. Robert turned down to look at her, not liking the solemn tone to her voice. "I've been talking to the guys, and… well, there's no way that you could have been involved in all this without ever remembering at least part of the truth. And I don't want to lie to you anymore-"

"Anymore?" Robert asked. "I knew it. I knew you've been keeping something from me! Your dad even hinted at it himself-" He stopped, his eyes sweeping the van. Though he could see Donatello and Leonardo in the front, he didn't see anyone else. "Hey, speaking of… what happened to your dad? He wouldn't stay at the convention after both of us left, would he?"

No one said anything for a moment. Finally, Michelangelo piped up yet again. "Remember that evil dragon that came back from the dead to destroy us all? Well… turns out that 'Vincent' was wearing the most realistic-looking costume out of anyone in the convention." He coughed awkwardly, hoping that Robert understood what he meant. Clearly, he did not.

"Look, there's no point dancin' around this," Raphael said as he rose to his feet. Walking towards Robert, he told him, "Rob, there's somethin' that you've been askin' me to do, and I'm just gonna go ahead and do it. Ya wanted me to take off my mask? Fine." He reached behind his head and untied the bandanna. Taking it off, he handed it to the confused Robert. "There it is. The only mask I've ever worn. Everything else that ya see,… this is all me."

Robert looked down at the red bandanna, not quite comprehending. Looking back down at Allison, he asked, "Is this some kind of deep and significant metaphor? Because if it is, I'm not sure that I'm getting it."

"Just shake his hand, Rob," Allison told him. "It's the polite thing to do when you're being formally introduced." Obliging her, Robert reached out and shook Raphael's hand, still perplexed. "Raphael, this is Robert Donnelly, my best friend for over four years. He helped me start out in the movie business, and though we went out on a few dates early on, we've both come to the conclusion that we're better off keeping things platonic. Robert, this is Raphael, my boyfriend for the past six months. We met about a year and a half ago, when he and his brothers saved my life while I was walking home one night. He's a ninja. And he's also a mutant."

Robert's hand stopped in mid-shake, releasing Raphael. Raphael carefully observed Robert's reaction. Leonardo also peered back to see how Robert would take the news. After making a small surprised sound in the back of his throat, Robert pointed to Michelangelo and looked at Allison. "Him too?"

Allison nodded. Michelangelo quickly swore, "But I'm good with kids! Honest! No germs or nothing, regardless of what you might've heard about turtles!"

Robert looked to the front of the van, where Leonardo was gazing at him. Donatello offered him a glance through the rearview mirror. Returning his eyes to Allison, he didn't even have to ask the question. "Yeah," Allison answered. "Them too."

"You're not joking," Robert asked, "are you?"

"Nope."

"They're really four turtles?"

"Yup."

"And we're also standin' right in front 'a ya," Raphael reminded him. "So ya don't gotta pretend that we don't have ears or nuthin'."

"Uh, Raph," Michelangelo was about to bring up. "Technically-"

"Shut it, Mikey."

"Four turtles," Robert whispered. He shakily got up and took a step towards Raphael, as though really seeing him for the first time. "Four humanoid ninja turtles… who make wisecracks and save the world from evil dragons. Good God, you guys really are the Sewer Dwellers!"

"Yup," Michelangelo told him. "We were kinda inspirational. Bud couldn't have gotten the idea for her movie without us, and that means that you wouldn't have had that hit graphic novelization out. So we're kinda the reason that you two got invited to NYCC in the first place… which might not be such a good thing, considering the past couple of days."

"Wonderful," Robert murmured. Allison was concerned about the high-pitch tone that edged his voice. It sounded almost like mania. "I owe the majority of my success to… to four humanoid ninja turtles. Ha. Haha." He meant to turn to Allison, but instead lost his footing. He fell into Allison's lap just as he passed out once again.

There was a moment of silence before Allison looked up at the brothers. "I think he's taking it rather well."

"Raph! What are you doing out of bed?"

Raphael looked up from his weights, surprised to hear Allison's voice. She had just entered the lair and was holding a small container in her hand. Oh, great, he thought as he put the weights down. I mention that I'm under the weather for one day, and here she comes to return the favor. "Five sets of twenty," Raphael answered. "Next question."

Allison approached him, annoyed by his flippant attitude. She put a hand on his forehead and inquired, "How's your fever?" Raphael swatted her hand away, not wanting her to know that his case of the sweats wasn't from working out.

"It's great," he replied. "I ain't too good, but the fever's havin' a ball." He lifted the lid on the container, peering into it. "What's this, Florence Nightingale? I thought ya said ya couldn't cook if your life depended on it."

"It's ramen," Allison responded wryly. "Anyone can make ramen. Rosalind can make ramen, if Rob ever lets her in the kitchen. He's always afraid that she's going to blow up the apartment or something. Nervous wreck, that man."

"Yeah," Raphael stated, leading Allison to the sofa. As they sat down, he asked, "How much 'a that is his personality and how much 'a that has to do with what we told 'im?"

"Oh, I don't know," Allison said, handing the container to Raphael as she searched through her bag. "We only told him yesterday, so I'm pretty sure he's still in the denial phase. Either he doesn't remember any of the details from yesterday, or he chooses to believe that what he does remember is actually a remnant of a bad dream." She took out a plastic package containing a knife, fork, and spoon, and a paper wrapper containing a pair of chopsticks. "Conventional utensils or chopsticks?"

"I ain't got the patience for chopsticks," Raphael said as he reached for the utensils. "I woke up feelin' like my head was gonna explode. The only savin' grace 'a the day is that Mikey ain't here to aggravate me. Still can't believe that he and Donnie decided to go back to the convention for the last day."

"Hey, they weren't the ones who got chewed out for not doing their job," Allison told him with only a hint of regret in her voice. "They're just normal teenagers, as far as anyone at that convention knows. Besides… considering the way they had been acting over the weekend, it's nice to see that they've reconciled enough to want to spend some time together."

Raphael said nothing for a moment before asking, "So, uh… we're reconciled too, right? I mean, we both did a lot 'a yellin' and screamin'… actually, we always do a lot 'a yellin' and screamin'. But uh… that thing ya said before about not hatin' me… that still stands, right?"

He was unnerved by Allison's reticence and turned his head to look at her. He was surprised to see that she was gazing at him rather fondly. He was about to ask after her thoughts when she said, "I love you, Raphael. It might've taken extraordinary circumstances to drag that information out of me, but at least I mean it when I say it and I always will. Really."

Raphael offered her a relieved smile. Seeming to remember something, he put the container of ramen on the coffee table and told her, "Stay here. I'll be right back." Though his head was swimming, he managed to get up and turn towards this room.

"Hurry back," Allison called. "I didn't slave over a hot microwave for two minutes just so you could let your food get cold."

She was surprised to hear laughter coming from behind her. Turning, she saw that Splinter was standing at the doorway of his room, amused by what he had just overheard. "It would appear that we finally met someone who is even more reluctant to work in the kitchen than Raphael is," he told her.

As he approached her, Allison remarked, "I think the world would be a nicer place if Raphael were a little more reluctant to work in a kitchen, Splinter. At least I'm well aware of my own culinary limitations."

"It is good to see you in our home again, Miss Grayson," Splinter said as he put a hand on Allison's shoulder. "It has been too long since we have had the pleasure of your company." Allison explained that she had been busy. Being caught up in a huge conspiracy that would have resulted in her being used in a faerie breeding program tends to take a lot out of a girl.

The pair looked up as Leonardo entered the room. "I must say," he told her, "you did exceptionally well yesterday, considering the emotional stresses you were under. It's also nice to see that you don't hate us after the unfortunate truth we discovered about your real father."

Allison looked down. Raphael had told her about the real Vincent's death after he had helped her put Robert into bed. Learning that her father had been dead even longer than her mother wasn't news that she necessarily took well, but she preferred that explanation rather than the idea of her father being a dragon bent on world domination.

"Hey," she said quietly, trying to keep the situation light, "when you think about it, this was my best adventure yet. For once, I stayed conscious throughout the entire thing, even if I was brainwashed and a little out of it for a while. Maybe all of that training with Leo has made me stronger."

"Speaking of training," Leonardo said even as Allison realized she shouldn't have brought it up, "when are you coming back for that? You didn't chicken out just because it started getting a little harder, did you?" Allison didn't answer right away. She was somewhat dismayed that training for three hours on a slippery rooftop in the freezing rain amounted to being only a "little" harder. Luckily, she was saved from a response when Raphael came in and leaned against the wall.

"Jeez," he muttered, "I leave her alone for a couple 'a minutes, and she's already got fans all around her. This is what I get for datin' somebody famous." Noticing that Raphael had something behind his back and remembering what day it was, Splinter smiled and told Leonardo that perhaps it was best that they leave the couple alone. After making the same observations as his sensei, Leonardo nodded and allowed Splinter to lead him out of the room. He looked back and offered Raphael a smile and quick wink before disappearing from view.

Allison noticed Leonardo's wink and turned to ask Raphael about it. He had taken the time to sit next to her once again. Before she could say anything, Raphael spoke up. "Look, I really didn't have no money to get ya anythin' nice. I spent the last of it on that iron necklace the other day to protect ya. So even though it might not seem like much, here."

With that, he handed her a plain red journal. Flipping through it, she saw that every page was filled with Raphael's handwriting. "When we first met," he explained, "ya gave me that rough draft of The Sewer Dwellers that ya wrote just before ya left for California. It had all these little notes in it that had nuthin' to do with the script. They were just… little pieces 'a you. And that's when I knew that I was gonna see ya again; because ya gave me a little piece 'a you." Motioning towards the book, he said, "This is a journal that I started the day you left. On some level, I'm pretty sure I always meant for ya to have it. Because when things get tough between us, I want ya to have somethin' to look back on, the way I do. Something that will hopefully make ya remember why we lasted six months, even if not a day after that. So I guess, uh… happy anniversary."

Allison listened to what he had to say, astonished. Raphael didn't seem like the kind of person to keep track of days at all. So why would he…? "Raphael," she told him quietly. "Thank you. I… I don't know what to say. I mean, I didn't figure you as someone who would care about anniversaries."

He looked at her steadily. Finally, taking a deep breath, he said, "I never had a reason to care. Not until one fell on the day you were born." Allison blinked at him, surprised. Had she ever told Raphael that it was her birthday? She couldn't remember ever doing so. "That's the day that really matters, after all," Raphael went on. "Keepin' track of a first kiss or a first date don't mean nuthin' unless you really care about the person you're sharin' those things with. But keepin' track 'a the day that the world got just a little bit better… that's what matters. So happy birthday, kid. And thanks for lowerin' your standards a little."

She was stunned, as she so often was when Raphael proved to actually have a sentimental bone in his body. "Aw, Raph," she laughed. "By the time I met you, I had no standards left to lower." He gave her a hard look, but it melted away as she leaned over to kiss him. "A joke, darling. You do know what a joke is, don't you?"

"Less joking," Raphael told her lowly. "More kissing."

Allison laughed again as she indulged him. As they kissed, she couldn't help remembering the vision that Jidara had given her the day before and that had followed her in her dreams. Was it true? Had she really seen the future? And does it matter? Nothing matters, Allison realized. Nothing but this. After all, you never know when your entire world will change and these moments will disappear.

Just as she began to appreciate the thought, she heard Donatello and Michelangelo enter the lair. "Dude," Michelangelo was saying heatedly. "No way! Double K.O. aside, I totally owned you in the video game tourney. You're just acting like a little kid."

Raphael and Allison parted as they looked up at the new arrivals. "Little kid?" Donatello asked. "Who's the one using Internet lingo like it's actual English? What exactly does it mean to 'own' someone in a video game, Mikey?"

"Oh sure, you think you're all smart," Michelangelo scoffed. "But when Maxi was beating Kilik's butt-"

"You purposely nudged me so I'd drop my controller!"

"Did not!"

Michelangelo added a shove into his argument, causing Donatello to push him back. Michelangelo then tackled his brother so hard that they both fell over the back of the sofa, practically landing in Raphael and Allison's laps. Raphael angrily pushed them to the floor, asking if they were out of their minds. Leonardo rushed in upon hearing the ruckus and tried to pull his arguing brothers apart.

Allison hugged the journal to her chest as she watched the tangle of turtles arguing over who started it and who was lying just to save his shell. She couldn't help but wonder if they were still under some sort of spell, causing her to chuckle to herself. Video game tournaments, evil spells, squabbling brothers, glimpses of the future, and surprising sentimentality. And to top it off, the ramen is definitely getting cold. With an unexpectedly contented sigh, she leaned back in her seat.

Just another day with the family.

END.

Author's Note: So, you made it this far, did you? Congratulations! You now get… my gratitude. This is the last of my "Reflections" trilogy, though I'm thinking Allison may reappear once again in a couple of one-shots. Depending upon reader curiosity, I may write some off-shoots based on this story, such as elaborating on Jidara's vision or on what was in Raphael's journal. Only time will tell. Thanks for taking this trip with me, and thanks to Mr. Eastman and Mr. Laird for giving me four of my best friends.