Ninja Turtles 1. Chapter 1

_Notes: This takes place following the end of season two and spans into season 3. Point of view will change between April and Raphael depending on the segment. The first chapter of this story was originally intended and posted as a one-shot under another title, but I've since been inspired to open it up into something much more ambitious. A big thanks to princessebee for her support and encouragement. I absolutely guarantee I would not have gotten involved as deeply in this fandom without her, much less be writing for it.  
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_Beta: princessebee_

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><p>April had been left to take care of the dishes alone again. Nevermind that she had just been tasked with feeding everyone. Not that anyone had come right out and asked her to. She basically had taken it upon herself. Otherwise, it seemed they all had agreed to survive on a diet of salty snacks and sugary cereal. They probably wouldn't mind living in a pigsty either, for that matter.<p>

_Leo wouldn't stand for this_, she thought gruffly, then instantly wished her mind hadn't taken her automatically to such a painful place. She pushed the thought aside quickly, returning back to the matter at hand.

Still, it would have been nice if someone had offered to help with the clean-up. To make matters worse, another round of bickering had begun in the living room, with voices getting louder by the second. She didn't know what had started it off this time, but was sure it was something infantile as per usual. Familiar with this build up to the inevitable rough housing and not wanting the accompanying headache, she decided to stop midway through her chore, dried her hands, and headed out the side door.

The night's symphony of crickets was a soothing reprise from the turmoil inside, until it was broken by a crashing sound from within accompanied by the muffled voice of someone yelling Mikey's name. She couldn't discern who from outside but it didn't take much imagination to guess.

"Raph," she muttered to herself with a sigh, looking heavenward as if help would come from above. Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she glumly set off further from the house in search of a brief respite.

The only light came from the windows on the lower floor of the house, but the moon was full and bright in the sky overhead. She rounded the barn and was surprised to find that she wasn't the only one wandering around in the dark that night.

In the middle of the empty field before her sat Raphael staring up into the sky. She considered whether or not to announce herself. More than likely he was seeking solitude, as she had been. She'd been doing that a lot lately, she realized, though, at the moment, she wasn't sure why. All it seemed to accomplish was allowing herself to sink further into melancholy thoughts. After a brief deliberation, she silently approached him.

"Hey," she called out before reaching him, giving him the opportunity to let her know if he wanted to be alone.

He turned, surprised to see her at first, but remained seated in the grass. "Huh," he grunted. "Didn't hear you coming."

"Ninja," she commented brightly.

"Yeah, right," he chuckled.

"The fellas are having it out again. Thought you were in there with them," she confessed.

"Who me?" he smirked. "I would never."

"Right, right. I forgot about your gentle disposition," she commented sarcastically and was awarded a laugh. Their banter over, an awkward moment of silence followed. "Mind if I join you?" she finally asked.

"It's a free country," he answered with a shrug.

She sat on the grass next to him and followed his gaze upward; the two of them sat silently for a time. "So you come out here often?" she asked.

"Isn't that a pick-up line?" he offered dryly, still staring upward. "If you really want to hear the guys have it out, call Casey and Don outside and do that again."

She laughed clear and loud unexpectedly to the both of them, to the point that he jumped a little in surprise. The crickets momentarily quieted as she nearly fell over in laughter, before eventually getting ahold of herself. "Thanks," she giggled. "I needed that."

"That's me," he quipped. "A regular a stand-up comedian."

"But you know what I meant," she said. "Sitting in an open field in the middle of the night…It's just not what I would expect is all."

"It's a clear night," he pointed out, as though that were explanation enough.

It was at that, she agreed. The sky was deep and dark, sprinkled with thousands of glimmering stars.

"We don't get to see many stars in the city," she said in understanding. "I never thought about it much to be honest."

"Don't suppose you would," he snarked, but his heart didn't seem into it and she decided to let it go.

"It's the light pollution, you know. In the city-"

"Please don't," he begged, closing his eyes tightly in exasperation. "Don't do the Donnie thing. Not everything needs a fucking explanation."

"Sorry," she offered simply, immediately wondering why she had done so in the first place. It occurred to her that since she had met the turtles, quiet moments like these were few and far between, making them feel out of place and so perhaps she felt the need to fill them with chatter.

"Do you want me to go?" she asked genuinely.

"No," he answered quickly, still looking skyward. "If I'm being an asshole, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be. I'm-"

April watched as his eyes gleamed and she looked up to catch a shooting star cross the sky in front of them.

She smiled. "You've never seen one before."

"No," he breathed.

"Well, you know what you have to do, right?" she began.

"Do?" He finally pried his eyes from the sky to look at her with confusion.

"Yes," she continued. "If you see a shooting star, you have to make a wish. Especially if it's your first one. That's extra special."

"Don't be stupid," he scoffed at her instantly, as she had more than expected.

"You're right. It is stupid. Would you like me to _explain_ why?" she asked smugly. "A shooting star is actually-"

"Alright! Alright!" he relented. "You win!"

April smiled triumphantly. "First you have to close your eyes," she instructed.

He sighed heavily, but did as he was told. But not without muttering, "This is dumb."

"Yes, we've been over that already," April reminded him. "Now you just make a wish."

He opened one eye and regarded her. "If I have to do this, you do to," he demanded.

"Fair enough," April agreed and followed suit by closing her eyes as well.

After some time, April leaned over toward him covertly and whispered, "What'd you wish for?"

"Oh no," he refused. "Doesn't that jinx it or something?"

She searched his face, even though he was still looking upward, and found herself reaching for his hand, squeezing it gently. "Leo's going to be okay, Raph."

Surprised by the touch at first, but accepting of it, he squeezed her hand back. "Yeah. Yeah, I know," he answered, but the sound of his voice betrayed him.

She wanted to convince him that it was true. That the universe had dealt them a crappy hand and it was bound to start being dealt in their favor soon. That, on top of everything, there's no way karma would take Leo from them too. But none of that was very practical, she knew, and would do little to change Raphael's state of mind.

So, instead, she silently returned to star-gazing in silence. A silence that was a lot less awkward than before. Before long, another star streamed across the sky.

"Want to try for round two?" she asked.

He nodded in agreement. "Couldn't hurt."

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><p><em>Credit: Much as I adore setoangel01's stuff, I did not consciously have her piece "Raphril Stars" in mind when writing this chapter, but would be hard pressed to believe it wasn't used subconsciously even if the image is for the 2014 movie. So I'm going to give credit, if for no other reason than her stuff is awesome and you should totally check out her deviantart page.<em>


	2. Chapter 2

Originally, April had associated the kitchen with bitter thoughts, upon learning that, by some silent agreement she hadn't been privy to, its chores had been assigned to her. Oh sure, the others would venture in if they were after a snack or a drink, but if she entered the room, they quickly made themselves scarce as though they feared she'd ask them to join in.

It didn't take long, however, for the room to become a sanctuary of sorts, seeing as she'd nearly be guaranteed to find herself alone in it. A sanctuary she desperately needed.

That evening she'd gone around the living area, collecting random dishes strewn about during the day, wet rag in hand to mop up the inevitable sticky spots left over from Mikey's pet while he sat transfixed to the television. She admonished him for the umpteenth time that Ice Cream Kitty was his responsibility, and for the umpteenth time, he cheerfully apologized. She sighed as she entered the kitchen with a pile of dirty dishes, knowing full well they'd have the conversation again tomorrow.

Crossing into the threshold of her new retreat, she exhaled deeply and finally allowed the smile she'd forced herself to wear all day to fade. It was easier, she had found, to act cheerful since they had arrived at her family's farm house. Doing otherwise led to uncomfortable confrontations. Ones she had since decided to avoid if at all possible.

It had started with Donnie. Of course, it had started with Donnie. Seeing her upset was just something he couldn't tolerate. She knew, really knew, it was because he cared for her deeply. Unfortunately, being who he was, that meant he had to _fix_ the problem. She was sad, ergo broken, and so needed to be fixed. The biggest obstacle to his success being, there was nothing he could do. She wasn't a broken radiator or a toaster on the blitz or the motley pieces of a shattered Kraang bot. There was nothing he, or anyone, could do to reclaim their home, help Leo, bring back Splinter…or her father. Her father for the _third_ time…

But Donnie talked a big game. Made all sorts of promises. Rambled on about all kinds of possible solutions. And, to be fair, he normally came through on those promises. After all, he had said he'd restore her father after his mutation and he, against all odds, had managed to do so. What irked her was the fact that he had made this vow without knowing for sure whether or not he could deliver. And, just like now, he did so in order to fix her mental state. As though experiencing any sort of negative emotion wasn't allowed.

April scrubbed the dish in her hand harder than necessary out of frustration.

All she wanted to do was feel miserable. Wasn't there plenty of cause for that in their lives right now? And as much as Donnie had yearned for any physical interaction between the two of them, he missed probably the best opportunity in his life because all she wanted to do was cry and be held. She would have let him be that person, if he'd allowed it.

She chuckled sadly to herself at the irony of it all.

Instead, he went on and on trying to improve her attitude while she stared at him, dumbfounded at his optimism. Honestly, she understood this was his way of coping. There was a situation and the situation should be resolved, and hell if he wasn't going to be the one to figure out how. But if she could see that this is what he needed, why couldn't he see what she needed? Her lack of response must have disturbed him because he had eventually stopped in the middle of his ramblings, looked at her seriously and said, "April, it's going to be okay. I promise."

After her continued silence didn't seem to clue him in, it became very clear the only thing she could do to make it all end. So she put on the most genuine smile she could muster and agreed with him that yes, everything was going to be just fine.

_But at least he was more tolerable than Casey_, she recalled, placing another plate in the drying rack.

Casey's coping mechanism was by far the most infuriating. He had decided to live in a constant state of denial. The one time she saw him crack at all was when they were pulling out of New York. After that, it was his usual level of buffoonery. She had tried to talk to him once or twice about his family. To his credit, she'd notice him briefly contemplate the possibility of opening up to her when she had done so, but he clearly didn't know how to handle such a heavy conversation and so would opt to change the subject instead. Hell, if anything he seemed to focus on the positive, constantly going on about how he didn't have to worry about school anymore.

Logically, she knew she had no right to tell him how to deal with sorrow, so she bore it best she could. Unfortunately, things came to a head one day on a trip to the grocery store, the two of them alone in the van. She had been particularly quiet on the way there, despite his best efforts to engage her in conversation.

"What's eating you, Red?" he finally asked.

She turned from her contemplative gaze out the window and gave him an incredulous glare. "What's eating me?" she returned. "Do I honestly have to list it out for you? Y'know, sometimes I think you might as well be living on another planet as oblivious as you come off sometimes."

He screwed his face into a grimace. "I ain't stupid, Red. So I'm not acting like it's the end of the world. Is that what you want? Is acting miserable going to get us anywhere?"

"Well, acting like everything is peachy isn't getting us anywhere either," she retorted, sharply.

They had spent the remainder of the trip in silence, until pulling up to the store. She had expected it to continue, after stepping out of the van, but instead found herself face to face with him. Wordlessly, he had pulled her into an embrace and she hadn't resisted. In fact, she thought for a moment that maybe she had him all wrong. Maybe he did understand. But, just as she was about to allow herself to break down, she heard him say, "It's going to be okay, Red. You'll see." And he pulled back, searching her face expectantly and she gave him what he wanted and smiled as brightly as she could manage.

But it wasn't until she had a facedown with Mikey did she realize she really had a problem. She nearly dropped the glass she was polishing, recalling her gut reaction that day. How cruel and uncharacteristic it was of her and once again uttered a quiet thank you that he had been oblivious to it.

Despite his faults, Mikey had an understanding about people and what they needed on an instinctual level, so she felt more comfortable putting her guard down around him than anyone else. He kept a cheery demeanor but didn't seem inclined to force it upon her. So despite his unrelenting perkiness, she had been ironically preferring his company these days.

One night, she had found a quiet moment of solitude in front of the fireplace after everyone else had gone to bed. She watched the flames hypnotically, feeling devoid of all emotion and wondering if that was a step in the right or wrong direction, when she heard someone descending the stairs. She braced herself for whatever interaction was about to be forced upon her and was relieved to see it was Mikey.

He sat next to her knowingly with a warm smile that she found impossible not to genuinely return, despite her mood. Leaning her head on his shoulder, she was somewhat content for what felt like the first time in a long time, to have someone there that would allow her just to be. But then he had to speak.

"I've been worried about you, April," he admitted and she immediately regretted letting her guard down around him. Of course he was; she hadn't any energy left to act otherwise around him between the front she was putting on for Donnie and Casey.

"You know everything's going to be okay?" he continued earnestly. "You know that, right?"

She looked at him and saw a face as hopeful as if he were waiting for Christmas morning. Donnie and Casey needed to say it was okay to cope, but she knew they were as doubtful as her underneath it all. Mikey believed it with all of his being. And he wanted her to regurgitate it to him on top of it all. And she could have slapped him right then and there for his naiveté. Slapped some sense right into him.

She didn't, of course, and quickly wondered if anything in her face betrayed her. To cover quickly, she hugged him tightly and told him exactly what he wanted to hear. That, yes, everything would turn out. That she was sure Leo would wake up any day now.

"And he'll know what to do," Michelangelo chimed in brightly. "He always does."

After that, she knew she had to put on a face for Mikey as well. So she smiled. And giggled. And put on a good show for everyone. It was absolutely exhausting. But here, in the kitchen, she could let go of the façade.

And she did. Frequently.

She found her hands still deep in the dish water, despite the chore being done, because she knew she couldn't leave yet. Not until she had gotten herself together. It wasn't the first time she had found herself openly sobbing in front of the sink without even realizing she had begun crying.

Without warning the door suddenly swung open and in walked Raphael.

The only person she really hadn't had a confrontation with was Raph, she realized, draining the sink. And…well, Raph was Raph. He had been avoiding everyone even more than usual, her included. And since she wanted pretty much the same thing, they hadn't had much to do with one another. Of all of them, the most socially impaired of the bunch was the only one not driving her crazy.

She rubbed her eyes quickly with the back of her hands, even though she knew it was pretty obvious what she'd been doing. She could feel him staring at the back of her head.

He stood still for a moment and she knew he was trying to decide what he should do. She wished he'd just pretend she wasn't there or that nothing was amiss, get whatever he was after, and leave. He went to the fridge, grabbed a soda, and she thought she was going to luck out before he turned around and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Listen, April," he began. "It's-"

"Don't you do it!" she snapped, pulling her shoulder away from him. "Don't you dare! I swear to God if one more person tells me 'it's going to be okay' I will scream! It's _not _okay! None of this is okay!"

"What the hell are you angry at me about it for?" he barked. "You don't think I know what's going on? I know it's not okay!"

"Well, maybe you should share the information with the others," she snarked bitterly. "They don't seem to be aware."

"I HAVE!" he boomed. "Jesus, April! You think I don't know my brothers? Think I've never been in this situation before? I thought…I thought for sure this time, with all the shit that's gone down…that even they..." he faded off unable to find the words he needed to express his frustration.

She turned to face him and found herself torn between being apologetic or continuing to rail on him. He hadn't done anything to warrant it, but it felt good to take all this pent up frustration that she was forced to keep buried out on someone. Someone that could take it.

Before she could make a decision, his face hardened once again, returning to the emotional state he understood best. "Leo's upstairs right now! How can they – How _dare_ they act like it's all going to be fine!"

And that broke her. Seeing him go through the same thing she was. April reached out to comfort him, only to have him pull away from her this time.

"And didn't you just tell me the other night the same damn thing? 'Leo's going to be okay'. Wasn't that what you said?" he demanded.

Her hand dropped and her eyes widened in realization. Her mouth opened and closed lamely in search of providing some sort of explanation. But nothing came out. She had nothing.

"Forget it," he barked, waving her away and exiting the room.

She stared dumbly in front of her at the place where he previously stood, trying to figure out what had happened. How had she become the very thing that had been driving her insane?

April dried her hands quickly and dashed out of the kitchen. She found the others sitting in front of the TV, all except Raph. All of them oblivious to what was going on.

Both Casey and Donnie made room on the couch for her and began a stare down to see whom she'd grace with her presence.

"Wanna play winner?" Mikey happily offered her, waving the game controller in his hand.

She knew where to find Raph. Part of her thought maybe it was best to let it go. Leave him alone. She had clearly bothered him enough. But the part wanting resolution won out.

"I'm going to go check up on Leo first," she answered.

Slowly she ascended the steps, trying to piece together what she'd say. What she'd want to hear. But anything she came up with felt woefully inadequate.

Cautiously she entered the bathroom. Sure enough, Raph was sitting there ever-vigilant over his brother, soda can in hand.

"Listen, Raph," she tried, pulling at her fingers nervously, but he cut in before she got anywhere.

"Don't worry about it. 'S fine. I'm sorry," he stated in a cold monotone.

She realized he didn't even know if he was the one that was supposed to be apologizing or not, that he was just covering all the bases. Anything to get her to leave. And she nearly did, her hand on the door to walk out, but abruptly changed her mind and closed it behind her instead.

He screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath and she knew that this was the last thing he wanted at the moment, but hoped she was making the right decision anyway.

She positioned herself in a crouching position in front of him. "Raph, look at me," she implored. He opened his eyes mechanically, seemingly more to get it over with than anything, and it brought her back to everything she'd been enduring in recent days. "I'm so, so sorry," she offered as sincerely as possible.

"Yeah. Okay. Thanks," he returned blankly.

"And you need to know," she continued. "That I get it. I really do."

His eyes focused on her then, searching her face skeptically. He took another chug from the can, unable to come up with a response. But at least he was really looking at her now and hadn't completely dismissed the notion as impossible. She thought that was the best she was going to get at the moment, but still something made her linger. She turned to the tub.

"How's he doing?" she asked.

"Oh, you know, the same," he replied, seeming to appreciate the change of conversation, an appreciation that was brief. "He's always the same," he repeated and his voice cracked.

April looked to him immediately and saw his eyes glazing over. Without a second thought, she threw her arms around him. "It's not okay," she choked. A moment later he was holding her as well and they both cried unabashedly into one another until they had nothing left.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but they had both found themselves sitting against the bathroom wall side by side afterward. She hated to admit that she felt better. It felt like a betrayal of some sort to the feelings she'd been harboring.

Raphael nudged her in the knee with his soda can, embarrassment keeping him from looking at her. She accepted the offer and took a sip from it. "Don't worry, tough guy," she bumped him with her shoulder. "I won't tell anyone if you don't."

She got a half smile out of him with that and thought maybe she could sit in peace for a change, when she heard Casey bellow for her from downstairs.

"AAAAPRIL!" he called. "Watch me kick Donnie's ass at this game!" And with that she could already hear the bickering begin.

"Oh my god," she breathed, looking at Raph.

"Hey, don't look at me," he chuckled. "You're the one willing to put up with them."

"I'LL BE DOWN IN A MINUTE!" she yelled back, then sighed, "Can't even get a moments peace."

"Now you know why I spend all my time up here."

"Oh, really," she replied knowingly. "I thought you were here for him." April nodded at the tub.

"For that yahoo?" he scoffed. "Nah. He's just being difficult. It's his hobby."

"All the same, I wish he were awake. He'd be a welcome relief to – to that," she nodded to the bathroom door as they heard the argument downstairs getting louder.

Raphael gave her an incredulous look. "You're joking, right? You think he's any better?"

"Well…yeah," she stammered. "Leo'd have to be. He'd know the score. He's realistic like that."

In his best impression of Leo's favorite cartoon character Raph said, "With enough determination, we can accomplish anything" and finished it with a mocking salute.

April spit out the soda in her mouth. "Look what you made me do!" she chastised him, though it wasn't very effective with her still laughing. The fact that he had joined in didn't help and she realized it was the first time she'd genuinely laughed in a long while, and probably was for him as well.

"What's all that determination getting you now?" Raphael directed at Leo, who was predictably silent. "That's what I thought, asshole." He turned to April and smiled widely. "I win all the arguments now."

She giggled until they heard something crash downstairs.

"For God's sake." She rose to her feet, before turning back to Raphael. "Don't make me go down there alone, please," she implored.

"Yeah, alright," he agreed, rising to his feet. "Hey, idiots!" he shouted down, upon opening the door. "Knock it off!"

April gave Leo one last look, knelt down and whispered. "Come back to us, okay? We all need you. Especially Raph. …Don't tell him I told you that though." She kissed the top of his head and followed Raphael downstairs, feeling more equipped to deal with what lay ahead. At least for the day-


	3. Chapter 3

_Notes: Big shout out to princessebee for directing me to flesh this chapter out more._

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><p>After a return from another trip to the grocery store, April had taken the change left over and placed it in the money jar they had stored out of sight in a cupboard, behind some pots. She sighed, wondering how much longer it could last.<p>

Once they had decided to leave New York and had a destination figured out, it hadn't taken long before they had realized their next immediate course of action. They were going to a house in the middle of nowhere. They were going to need money.

On the outskirts of the city, they had pulled up in front of an ATM machine. The streets were empty, but marred by evidence of recent looting. She suspected the area had already been evacuated. Absolute silence hung eerily in the air in unsettling contrast to the firefight they'd just escaped.

"Guys, I don't like this," Mikey admitted, as they stepped out of the van.

"Donnie, take out the camera," Raphael instructed, ignoring his youngest brother.

Don sighed, but didn't see a way around their predicament and did as asked, all while avoiding Michelangelo's imploring gaze.

"Keep a look out while I figure out how to get into this thing," Raph continued, Casey at his side.

Donatello perched himself on top of the van, looking silently outward.

"Guys…" Mikey tried again.

"We're only taking what we need," Raph snapped, still inspecting the machine. "We've only ever taken what we need."

"Not like this!" Mikey insisted

"Yeah, well," Raphael huffed. "I somehow doubt there are too many junkyards to scrounge around in the middle of nowhere. Not to mention any way to get from one place to another without being seen."

Trying another angle, Mike turned to his other brother. "D," he begged.

"We need the money," Donatello replied weakly, sounding as defeated as they all felt.

"Casey?" Mikey pleaded.

"Dude, I've barely got over ten bucks on me. Don't think that's going to cover us."

"This doesn't feel right," still Mikey persisted.

"You know what else doesn't feel right?!" Raphael barked. "Starving! Get back in the van if it bothers you so much!"

Michelangelo then approached April with big eyes, begging her for another solution.

She didn't know what to say to him. She hated it as much as he did. As much as they all did. She was almost glad Leo wasn't awake for it all, knowing he'd be torn between taking care of his family and his honor. Ultimately though, she knew family would win out, so she looked away from Michelangelo and sadly tucked her hands in her pocket. When she did, she found something inside and her eyes shot open, as she realized what it was.

"Raph, stop," she directed, as he had begun trying to use his sai to pry the ATM open.

He threw down his weapon in frustration, where it clattered loudly on the sidewalk and stepped toward them. Mikey scooted back instinctively. "Do _not_ give into his big baby face routine," he shouted at April, pointing at his younger brother. "What would you rather me do? Knock-over the nearest gas station? No one's getting hurt here. The bank will replace whatever we take…or some shit…" He muttered to Casey, "Isn't that how it works?"

"Why are you asking me? I don't fucking know," Casey shot back, as irritated as the rest of them.

"I understand," she said calmly, stepping toward him. Their eyes had locked and as she placed a consoling hand on his arm. "And I agree," she added sincerely. His eyes softened at that and his posture relaxed slightly. "As a last resort. But look." In her hand she revealed the debit card she'd found in her pocket. She had forgotten she had it with all the craziness that had gone on that day. Her father had given it to her to pick up some take-out that afternoon before the whole world went topsy-turvy.

"That's great, April!" Donnie exclaimed cheerfully.

"Yeah, great," Raphael muttered, casting a glare at Michelangelo for making a tough choice all the more difficult. He retrieved his sai and irritably retreated back into the van. Mikey deflated with relief, the confrontation now over.

She knew there wasn't a lot in the account. Her father's lengthy disappearance hadn't exactly helped them in the financial department. Times had been tough and the savings account depleted, but it was better than nothing. She plugged in the debit number, taking everything left in her father's checking account. It didn't feel like much of a victory after the day they'd had, but still…it was something.

"Is it enough?" Raphael asked after some time back on the road.

The turtles, April knew, didn't think about money often, much less how much was needed to run a household. It didn't have much of a place in their lives. How could it? To be fair, she didn't know much about running a house either, young as she was.

She looked at Casey, who shrugged non-committedly.

"It depends," she answered carefully. "Depends on how long we're there. If we play it smart, it could last us a bit."

"Then we'll play it smart," Raphael said with conviction.

And they had. In fact, she'd been rather impressed with them all. Donatello had found a way to tap into the electric grid unnoticed, which was something considering how remote they were. They treated their food wisely, leaving nothing to waste.

Not that there hadn't been some bumps along the way. Smart as he was, Donatello had the hardest time adjusting to life on a budget. On their first venture out for food, he had approached her with a list of tools and hardware to pick up.

"Donnie, this isn't within our means," she said, returning the list to him.

He had looked genuinely confused. "But-But I _need_ them," he emphasized, as though an explanation would change the situation.

Of all of them, she figured he was the best at digging up hidden treasures. He knew exactly what he was looking for and wasn't one to get deterred or discouraged easily once fixated. Anything he couldn't find, she was sure he could configure, in one form or another, given time and supplies. Supplies being the key term, as he was stuck in the middle of the woods.

"Don, I understand," she said soothingly, "But it can't be done. You're going to have to make do."

He had pouted about it for a few days, though as depressed as everyone was, she figured she was the only one that noticed.

Another issue had been the prices at the local stores. In their remote location, the small convenient stores carried the bare minimum and at inflated prices. As soon as she found a jar of peanut butter twice the cost of what she was accustomed to, she remembered that her parents used to bring most of their food in with them whenever they visited the farmhouse. Now she knew why.

But, all things considered, they could be doing a lot worse.

Even so, staring at the jar she couldn't help but worry. There was this overwhelming feeling that she should do something, anything to improve their situation. Every day was just more of the same. She could tell the others were feeling it too. The lack of anything constructive to do only led to them getting on one another's nerves more frequently.

With the exception of Donnie. He always had something to keep him busy.

To add to the frustration, she knew the farmhouse had, at one time, been mostly self-sustaining. If they actually had a farm to work, it'd keep everyone busy, if nothing else. But she didn't know the first thing about farming. There was only one aspect of farm life she had any experience with at all.

It was then she knew something she could do. Not that it needed to be done, but it was better than sitting around waiting for something to happen day after day. April grabbed the paper they had picked up, with the intention of finding out any information about the goings-on back home, and turned to the ads.

* * *

><p>April knew she'd find Casey in the barn tinkering away on a rusted out truck that she thought was beyond hope of recovering, alongside Donatello working on…whatever he was working on at the moment. She honestly didn't know half the time. Strangely, they had been spending more time together recently. She didn't know if they were just trying to keep a closer eye on each other or what.<p>

She partially blamed Raph's depression as well, Casey not being exactly the type to know how to deal with such things. It was something that had begun concerning her, since the night they'd broken down together in the bathroom. Raphael's continued self-enforced isolation couldn't be improving his state of mind – and watching his best friend grow steadily closer to his brother was unlikely to help any.

"Casey, I need you to do me a favor," April called, upon entering the barn.

He emerged from underneath the truck he'd been working on, smug grin on his face

"I'll help you out, April," Donnie cut in eagerly, which she should have expected, but didn't think about when walking in. Walking on eggshells around the two of them, being forced to constantly think two steps ahead before she said or did anything, no matter how meaningless, was getting to be a real pain.

"I need him to take me somewhere, Don," April explained.

"Casey Jones will take you anywhere you want to go, Red," he agreed with as much swagger as he could muster and she wondered if he could feel the disgusted glare Don was giving him.

"That's great, Jones," she offered, tossing him the keys. "I'll meet you at the van."

She approached Donnie in another attempt to placate him. Something she felt she was constantly having to do for one or the other, draining as it was.

"He needs to keep busy too, Don," she said after Casey was out of earshot. "We all do. Speaking of, what are you working on right now?"

"Something for Leo," he answered. "For when he's back with us. I've been tinkering with possible medicinal applications of mutagen."

For the millionth time, she marveled at his ingenuity and how he could make the most of so little.

"That's amazing, Donnie! And so important," she beamed. "But it's not as easy for the rest of us to feel like…like we're making a difference here."

He nodded thoughtfully in understanding. "So where are you off to? You just got back from a grocery run."

"…You'll see," she managed a weak smile, before heading for the van herself. Truth be told, after hearing what Don was up to, her idea felt all the more senseless, but she was committed at this point.

* * *

><p>Less than an hour later, they were nearing home, Casey still at the wheel and April carefully cradling a cardboard box full of baby chickens.<p>

"Mikey's going to flip. You know that, right?" he smirked.

"Honestly, that might be half the reason I got excited about the idea," April admitted. "There's always someone around here selling chickens. They're super cheap if you get them young and more than make up for it with the eggs they provide, so I just searched the ads in the paper and…the chicken coop is just sitting there, so I thought, why not?" She was still feeling a little silly about the whole thing.

"Ads…" he considered, thoughtfully. "You still have 'em?"

"Yeah, why?" she asked.

"Nothing," he shrugged. "Just occurred to me that people around here might need some manual labor. Temp work, y'know? Worth checking out."

"Casey Jones," she gasped in astonishment. "I could just kiss you!"

"So who's stopping ya, Red?" he replied audaciously.

She gave him a sideways look, catching his smarmy expression, but given the gesture, felt it worthy of indulging him. She leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek, the box of chicks chirping in protest as it tilted with her.

She wondered at how both he and Donnie were making themselves useful in such practical ways. Truthfully, the same thought about searching for work had occurred to her. But she knew none of them would have it, her going off to provide for them all. As archaic as it was, she knew it'd be more accepted of Casey. But she'd been reluctant to suggest it, feeling it would be the same as forcing it upon him. She was relieved he had reached the same conclusion on his own. Even so, she worried about the effect it'd have on the turtles.

"Try to be as discreet as possible," she said, as they pulled up to the house. "The others feel bad enough, without it being rubbed in their faces. They want to do more."

"Yeah, yeah. No problem," he agreed and she could see on his face it was something he'd already considered.

Entering the house, she found Raphael and Michelangelo in front of the television, each with a game controller in their hand.

"Mikey, April has a surprise for you," Casey revealed.

"I love surprises!" He abandoned the controller instantly and rushed her to the point that she swung back behind Casey, worried that he'd inadvertently hurt the chicks in his excitement. "What is it? What is it? What is it?" He danced excitedly on his toes, trying to peer around Casey into the box.

"Settle down, Mikey," she instructed. "You have to be gentle."

He immediately returned to a sitting position on the floor and tried to capture a look of zen. "Okay," he inhaled, expression tight with anticipation. "I'm ready."

She caught Raph rolling his eyes as he tossed his controller aside as well, but suspected that he was trying to look less curious than he was. Honestly, she was just happy to see he had momentarily pried himself away from Leo's side.

As she placed the box in Mikey's lap, his eyes grew wide in wonder. "I love them all!" he declared immediately and anyone looking at his face would know it was true, despite the fact that he'd only been introduced to them mere seconds ago.

"You bought…chickens…" Raphael commented in confusion.

"Yeah, worst comes to worst, it's a source of food," she shrugged.

Michelangelo's head was deep in the box, cheeping along with his new pets. Slowly he raised it and looked up at her as though she were monstrous, hugging the box closer to him.

"The eggs, Mikey! The eggs!" she exclaimed.

"Oh good," he exhaled in relief. "Because I already started naming them."

"I don't know, Mikey," Raphael chortled, leaning down and picking one of them up. "This one looks kinda tasty."

"STOP!" he whined. "Leave Miss Cluckington alone!" Then he added thoughtfully, "…Which are the boys and which are the girls?"

"They said there's one rooster, but the rest are hens," April answered. "Though I've seen them be wrong before so we'll have to wait and see."

Raphael examined the chick in his hand closer. "…How can you tell?"

April sighed in exasperation. "I don't know! I'm not an expert! At least we have a source of eggs now."

"Unless they're_ all_ roosters," Raphael muttered to his brother, who chuckled in return.

"Hey, wiseguy," she snapped. "On your feet. We have a coop to repair."

He raised one brow ridge at her incredulously.

"What, you got something better to do?" she challenged.

He shrugged, placing the chick back in the box. "No, don't suppose I do."

"I'll take care of the chicks!" Mikey volunteered happily, to the surprise of no one.

Before April followed Raphael out the door, she turned to Casey and whispered, "The paper is on the kitchen counter."

"On it, Red," he whispered back and she felt pleased that, at the very least, everyone had something to do.

April caught up with Raphael entering the barn. After a brief explanation, Donnie had risen to his feet in a gesture to assist them.

"What a relief," Raph offered sarcastically, hoisting a roll of chicken wire over his shoulder. "How were we ever going to figure out how to operate a hammer without Mr. Wizard."

April turned to Donatello, hands clasped together with a pleading look in her eye. His annoyed expression relaxed into one of understanding and she gave him a warm smile of gratitude as he returned to his project.

Raphael and April had worked in mostly silence aside from what conversation was needed to complete the job, which suited her fine. It was nice to concentrate on something aside from their troubles for a change. She guessed he felt much the same way given his focus on the task at hand.

A thin tin metal sheet that had acted as a cover for the coop was completely rusted through, now more holes than roof. They managed to find a suitable replacement digging around the barn once again. The sky was turning pink with the day's end as they finished the job by securing it in place over the coop.

"That'll about do it," Raphael said, standing back to admire their work.

"Not bad," she replied. "Not that I imagine they'll be very picky about it."

"Should probably test it though," he suggested, giving her a sideways look.

"…Test it?" she scrunched her face in confusion. She gave out a surprised squeak as he answered by suddenly scooping her up and placing her on the roof.

"Well, if it will hold you, it should be fine," he teased.

"Is that supposed to be some kind of a comment on my weight?" She tried rising to her feet timidly, but immediately thought better of it, the thin metal already warping underneath her. Instead she lay down on her stomach, spreading her weight across it. Resting her chin on her hands, they regarded one another face to face, and for a moment, looking into his clear green eyes, she had no idea what to say.

The moment was brief. Added to the fact that their task was complete, she could see his inner turmoil begin to return to his face. "What was the point of this?" he mumbled bitterly and she wasn't sure if he was saying it to himself, or if he intended for her to answer. Ultimately, she felt it warranted a response.

"When I was younger, I was fascinated with the animals on this farm," she began. "Especially the horses, but I was too young to take care of them. Still, I wanted to help out. Feel grown up, y'know? My grandfather tried to redirect my attention to gardening. We had a huge vegetable garden over there." She nodded to a plot of land next to the house, now grown over. "But weeding wasn't exactly the most exciting thing for a six-year-old."

"Doesn't sound like a very exciting thing for anybody," he chuffed.

"So I was given charge of the chicken coop. It wasn't a big deal. All you have to do is feed them and collect the eggs. They basically take care of themselves. But at the time I felt like I was contributing in such a big way." Her face darkened. "I guess I wanted to feel that way again, but you're right, this was just about as pointless now as it was then."

"April, I-I didn't mean…" he stammered and she could see the distressed look in his eyes.

"It's okay Raph." She forced out a chuckle to relieve the tension on his behalf. "I know you didn't mean anything by it. I'm just being melodramatic. Seems to be our ongoing theme these days."

A moment of silence passed between them before he said anything. "You made Mikey happy. And," he added genuinely, "It was really nice to think about something else for a little while."

"Yeah, yeah it was," she agreed, not feeling the need to hide the sound of melancholy from her voice.

"So…how you holding up?" he asked and she was surprised that of the two of them, it was him to have brought up their brief emotional exchange a few nights back, albeit in a roundabout way.

"Oh, you know, depends on the day," she shrugged. "You?"

"Yeah. Same," he replied. "Today wasn't so bad. Tomorrow…" He shrugged indeterminately in a way that she would have found adorable, if she didn't see sorrow descending upon him once again. If she didn't feel it weighing on herself once again as well.

"Let's get you down from there," he offered.

At another time, she would have brazenly disregarded such an unnecessary act of chivalry, but the thought of being held again with depression taking hold was too much to pass up. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he pulled her down. He lingered a moment, perhaps sensing her need, but it was still all too brief to bring any satisfaction.

As they returned to the house, she knew it wasn't much. That things would return to the status quo almost immediately. He would be back at Leo's side; she would be back in the kitchen preparing dinner. But she had provided a little relief for everyone and that would have to be enough for now.


	4. Chapter 4

Depending on the day, April would wake up in a different state of mind. Some days just the thought of forcing herself out of bed felt like too much to bear, the futility of it all overwhelming her. But then there were days when she felt determined to pull herself out of her funk.

On this particular morning, streaks of light played across her room and over her face, waking her earlier than usual. She realized she'd forgotten to close the blinds the evening prior, but it was undeniably a beautiful morning, lifting her spirits so that she decided she was done feeling sorry for herself. Though she knew full well that it'd have no bearing on how she'd feel tomorrow, she was determined to make the most of it today.

She had been neglecting her training. They all had been, really. She wasn't sure if the guys were too depressed by the abrupt theft of their home and father to find the energy for it, or if they didn't have the drive without Leo. Either way, she was still a novice and couldn't afford the lapse, to lose the muscle memory. So she dressed and went outside that morning, brisk as it was, and started warming up.

It felt good to run through a routine she was familiar with, even if she was a little stiff. After the warm up, she went through some simple striking techniques, testing to see what her body remembered from weeks past. Once satisfied, she moved on to her legs, when a voice interrupted her.

"What're you up to?" Raphael asked, breaking her concentration. She froze in position but could see he was coming from behind the house out of her peripheral vision.

"_Mawashi geri_. What's it look like?" she answered haughtily, because she could already hear the sardonic tone in his voice. She completed another roundhouse kick to drive the point home.

"It looks like you're putting on a good show of it anyway," he snarked, giving her an exaggerated once over, a smug twitch on the corner of his mouth.

April felt her face tense, but strove to keep her form. Of all of them, she knew Raphael was the least convinced she should have begun training as a kunoichi. To be fair, she'd scarcely trained with anyone outside of her sensei and Donnie, but she saw the doubt on his face whenever it was brought up around him. Could just feel the restrained eye roll.

"At least I'm trying!" she snapped. "That's more than the rest of you can say!"

He froze for a moment before positioning himself in front of her and leaning in close, locking eyes with her. "I'm up at five am every morning. I've already gone through my sets and just got back from a run."

She felt her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment as she awkwardly tried to keep her composure. "I-I did not know that," she flustered.

"Now you do," he replied in self-satisfaction, before turning to leave.

"Wait!" she called out, struggling to let go of her pride. "What am I doing wrong?"

He glanced back at her, eyes wryly narrowed, and she half expected him to refuse. But then he turned back, folding his arms across his plastron.

"Let me see your stance," he instructed and she could once again feel him straining to keep sarcasm out of his voice. It only fueled her all the more as she quickly stepped into the han zenkutsu dachi position.

"Well, I'd start there," he said sardonically, unable to suppress his natural impulses.

She inhaled deeply, knowing she'd only made things worse by calling him out for nothing seconds ago. Glancing down she replied as evenly as possible, "My feet are in the right position."

"But your center of gravity isn't," he explained forcefully. "You're putting too much weight on your back foot. Should be evenly distributed."

She exhaled, hoping he couldn't see how frustrated this was making her. She'd been told this before, but had struggled with it in the past. Just how could you tell what percentage of weight you were putting where so precisely anyway? Still, she tried to shift herself as he had suggested.

"Now do the kick again," he directed after placing himself in front of her once more.

She did, putting as much power in the strike as she could. He caught her foot midair with one hand, holding it there, her leg outstretched. Not that she was trying to make it connect. Not that she had expected it to. But he'd done it so effortlessly, it was as though he was taunting her.

"You're not a ballerina. Your strike is here." He grasped her heel and pushed the ball of her foot back to the point she wanted to grimace, but fought against showing it. And of course she knew that. She'd struck with her heel, but apparently not enough to his liking.

"I don't understand," she huffed. "Donnie said I had this down."

He raised a brow ridge at her. "Of course he did, April," he stated flatly.

She glared at him, his cockiness unbelievable. "You are so full of yourself, you know that," she berated. "Donnie is a very accomplished ninja himself, I'll have you know."

He released her foot so that she was forced to quickly adjust her balance and threw up his hands, making it clear he was done assisting her. "I never said he wasn't." He spun away from her, heading toward the house. "But by all means, you keep listening to Donnie. Let me know how that works out for you," he threw over his shoulder before retreating inside.

April growled irritably, kicking a nearby stone across the yard in frustration. The morning wasn't going as brightly as she had hoped.

* * *

><p>Raphael had been coaxed away from Leo's side by Mikey, begging for attention as he had a tendency to do. His first reaction was to tell him to bug off. But it wasn't like anyone else had been really interested in his company these days. Hell, he expected Mikey approached him only out of lack of better options. In the end, he found himself parked on the living room couch, pounding away on a game controller.<p>

The screen door slammed violently as April entered the house. Mikey hadn't so much as glanced away from the screen, completely engrossed in the game. Raphael, however, instantly saw how tense she was. He watched as she began to make her way around the room, picking up dishes in an agitated state. He sensed she was ready to explode and was just waiting for an excuse to do so, a sensation he was all too familiar with.

"You suck at this!" Mikey sang out triumphantly, having just won another round.

"What? Compared to you? This is ALL you do!" Raph shot back. Honestly, his attention hadn't been on the game anyway, wondering if there was something he should be doing in that moment for April or if he was supposed to be pretending everything was fine.

"I know," Mikey admitted, despondently. "I wish we had more games. These few are getting boring."

Behind him, Raph sensed April freeze mid-step and turn toward them.

"Boring?!" she spat viciously. "Oh, I'm sorry that the world doesn't revolve around making sure you're entertained. How about a little gratitude that we spent some of the little money we had on that system at all?"

"Whoa! Whoa!" Raph leapt over the back of the couch, took her by the shoulders and directed her into the kitchen, but not without catching his little brother's wounded face as he hugged his knees to his chest.

"Okay, what was _that _about?" Raph asked after shutting the door behind him. "Did something happen or-"

"What's that supposed to mean? Is it too much to ask for a little appreciation?" she challenged.

"No," he shrugged. "But if you really want to have a go at him, let me know next time. I'll hold him down for you."

She angrily slapped dishes on the counter. "If you must know, Donnie and Casey are at it again and I'm up to here with it. Do you want to know why this time? Do you?"

"...Well, I think I know –" he attempted, watching her manically pace around the room.

"Because of a sandwich," she answered tightly.

"A sandwich?" he repeated in confusion.

"Yes, a fucking sandwich!" she shouted, before leaning back against the refrigerator and sliding down to the floor, clearly emotionally drained.

He paused for a moment, unsure of what he was supposed to do. He was never good at this sort of thing. Wasn't exactly the guy people ran to when they needed advice or even just someone to listen to them. Timidly, he sat down on the linoleum floor beside her, waiting for her to continue if she wanted to, as awkward as it felt, because any other option he could think of felt even more awkward.

"I was about to have lunch," she sniffed, attempting to hold back the onset of tears. "And I know I usually let you guys fend for yourself in the afternoon. But I thought Donnie had been working so hard, why not make him a sandwich too. So I went to the barn to ask what he'd like. And Casey was there and it became this - this stupid thing. I would have offered him one too! I didn't see him there!"

"Who does anymore," Raph muttered bitterly.

"And do you want to know what else?" she asked, looking at him now with watery eyes. "I don't even know if this is about me anymore. I left and they were still just…being idiots. They probably still are. Haven't even noticed I left."

"…Do you _want_ it to be about you?" Raph asked cautiously. Honestly, he'd never understood why she'd tolerated it as long as she had; when it had been painfully obvious to him it bothered her - at least so far as the competition between the two of them went. It had frustrated him near to point of action on a couple of occasions, but ultimately he didn't think it his place to interfere. It was refreshing to discover that even her boundless patience had its limits.

"What?" She wiped her eyes. "No. No, of course not. Just makes it twice as stupid is all."

There was another awkward silence and he once again felt completely out of his comfort zone. Was he supposed to do something? Say something?

He cleared his voice experimentally. "Well, if it bothers you that much," he began carefully. "You could just make it clear to them…" he trailed off, unsure if he was overstepping his bounds. She shot him a cynical look, her lip lightly curled.

"Typical," she sneered. "This _must_ be_ my_ fault, right? Maybe I don't _know_ how I feel, Raph. Ever think of that? Maybe it's confusing. Maybe if everyone would let me be, I'd figure it out on my own. Maybe I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. Maybe I don't want to lose a friend. Maybe a million different things," she finished curtly. She crossed her arms over her chest in a defiant pout.

_Well, that had clearly been the wrong thing to say_, he realized as he matched her posture, crossing his arms over his plastron irritably. He knew he wouldn't be any good at this, but couldn't she see he was trying? …Maybe he should leave. He had only upset her more.

"Screw those guys," she finished decisively, still misty-eyed and rising to her feet. "They don't get a sandwich. But you know what? You do." She signaled for him to move away from the refrigerator door and he shuffled to the side to comply, staring at her with confusion. Hadn't she just been angry with him? Maybe she did see he was trying his best.

"And Mikey," she added opening the refrigerator door, her eyes suddenly growing wide and watery and he knew she'd just realized how badly she'd snapped at him in the living room. "Mikey gets all the sandwiches," she choked, before turning to rush back to him to apologize.

He reached up and caught her wrist, halting her mid-step. "He'll be fine," Raph assured her as she looked down at him questioningly. "But you're acting a little crazy," he continued, and immediately thought that probably wasn't what she wanted to hear right then. "What do _you_ need right now?" he asked quickly, hoping it'd be enough to cover the plethora of mistakes he was making in this conversation.

He could see her face crack then and the tears she'd been holding back start to flow freely. "I don't know," she admitted lamely, and the next thing he knew she had collapsed on the floor again with her face buried in his shoulder, sobbing openly.

"Shit, April. It's not worth all this," he soothed, tentatively patting her back, feeling more uncomfortable than ever. "I suck at this. I'm sorry."

She sat back abruptly and looked at him, their faces inches apart. Abruptly he could see how several freckles clustered together across her nose. He'd never noticed before. "No you don't," she replied emphatically. "You listened. And let me rant. And no one has _ever_ asked what I needed before."

He was glad that he hadn't screwed this up as badly as he thought, though he wasn't entirely sure what he'd done or how to repeat it in the future, if it became necessary. Still, it was surprisingly satisfying being the emotional support for someone else for a change.

She wiped the remaining tears from her eyes as clearly as she could, before a look of excitement crossed her face. "Oh! I know what I need!" she exclaimed happily. "Wanna spar?"

"…You serious?" he asked warily, eying her delicate frame.

"Yeah," she enthused. "I really want to hit something. Not you," she added hastily, but he only suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. As if she'd ever land a punch on him – that he didn't allow. "-But you're here so will have to do," she added lightly, already seeming more like her normal self.

"You'll try!" he ribbed, still not sure this was a good idea, but not seeing a way to back out of it now.

* * *

><p>"I knew this was a bad idea," he declared aloud, escorting her upstairs to the bathroom while she held an injured shoulder, arm crossed over her chest. He had said it mostly for his own benefit, but knew the words had affected her by the way she dejectedly sat herself on the toilet seat, posture slumped.<p>

Maybe he should have kept the thought to himself. Maybe he should have been nicer to her that morning. Either way, he didn't know how to entertain the pity party she was throwing herself, if the forlorn look on her face was any indicator, so started searching the cabinetry for a tube of icy-hot instead.

"I think it's just a sprain," he began. "You'll be –"

"Why don't you think I can do this?" she interrupted.

He stopped in his search, but kept looking straight ahead rather than at her. This was not a conversation he wanted to have. "I never said that, April."

"I said," she repeated, undaunted, "Why don't you _think_ I can do this?"

"I don't _think_ it either," he sighed.

"Then what?" she demanded, unrestrained. "What is it? Is this just some macho bullshit or –"

He felt himself tense, the suggestion causing his hands to ball into fists as he cut her off. "I don't know, April. Maybe it's because my brothers and I have been doing this our entire lives and you seem to expect it to happen overnight which is stupid and quite frankly," he continued, now turning to look at her with narrowed eyes to drive the point home, "Just a little insulting!"

It was her turn to look away now, tearing her eyes from his to focus on the dingy-white tiled floor.

He could let up then - perhaps should - but she was the one who had got him going, started this when he'd have been happy keeping it to himself. "If anyone was pulling macho bullshit out there, it was you," he berated, recalling the particulars of their match. He'd allowed her to get a few blows in, thinking that's what she needed. Had done so in a way that he felt wasn't terribly obvious, which he thought was awfully nice of him. But ultimately, he had pinned her to the ground, pulling her arm back, waiting for her to admit defeat. Instead she'd wound up crying out in pain and he'd jumped off of her quickly and helped her to her feet, reciting a veritable litany of apologies.

"Why didn't you tap out? I would have stopped!" he finished, angry that he'd put her in this position, first by injuring her and then following it up with this uncomfortable conversation.

"I've never had to," she answered meekly. "Donnie – He's the only one I've really sparred with at all. I mean, I know –" She paused, shaking her head in frustration, trying to explain. "If it was something that I had to do often, it would have been second nature. I wasn't trying to prove anything. But Don never took it there, so I've never had to think about it before."

He got on his knees in front of her, locking eyes, to make his next point as clearly as he could. To do so in a way that wasn't insulting to his brother, hoping she'd pick up on it this time around. "April, of course he didn't," he replied, nearly mirroring exactly what he had said to her that morning, this time carefully emphasizing every word.

He was relieved when he saw realization dramatically cross her face. That Donnie would never push her. Never stand to see her frustrated. Would tell her what she wanted to hear. Anything to ingratiate himself to her.

He rose to his feet, returning to the medicine cabinet and allowing her to silently process what he'd just revealed to her. He found himself a spot on the floor, shell against the wall, tube of icy-hot in hand, and indicated with a nod of his head for her to sit on the floor in front of him, to which she quietly complied.

He squirted some of the ointment into his hand before it occurred to him that there was a shirt between him and her shoulder. Thankfully, she had already started wrestling her arm out of its sleeve and worked it through the neck of her shirt, though he could tell it caused her some pain to do so.

Unfortunately, he was now met with the strap of her bra and that might have been worse than dealing with the shirt would have been. "Uh…" was all he managed to get out before he caught her roll her head in exasperation.

"It's a bra strap. It will not bite," she said tersely, pulling it aside herself with the opposite hand.

"Hey, I don't know the rules here," he stated, as he started applying the ointment.

"Listen," she began. "You need to know that I'm not rushing things because I'm trying to prove anything. I mean that. It's just…I seem to be the focal point to a lot our problems. I don't want to be a burden."

"None of us think of you that way," he replied, unwaveringly.

"That doesn't make it not true," she maintained. "And I hate it."

He nodded in understanding. It was something he hadn't considered before, but it made sense. He'd hate it too.

She turned to face him. "You have to help me. Please," she implored, hands clasped together.

"Uh, I don't know," he backpedaled. "You've come a long way already. You've held your own alright."

"I've gotten lucky and you know it," she insisted.

"I – I don't think I'm the teaching type, April. I'm not exactly known for my patience."

"But I am," she reminded him. "It'll be fine."

He gave her doubtful look with a tilt of his head and she sighed. "Okay, so I've admittedly been a little unhinged lately. Still, I think I've been holding it together pretty well considering."

He glanced at Leo, still and silent in the tub. He really wished he was awake right now, more than ever. He'd be much better at this sort of thing. Without answering, he spun a finger, gesturing for her to turn around again.

"I'm going to try and massage this out. It's going to hurt at first," he explained. She nodded without comment or making any attempt to push him further on the subject, as though she understood he needed time to mull it over.

And maybe she did understand him after all, on many things besides. She had suggested as much not too long ago. They did seem to be dealing with grief in much the same way. And he'd recently seen she had a rage inside her to rival his own, though she obviously did a better job tempering it.

His train of thought was lost when he felt her body start to give way under his touch. Her initial sharp intakes of breath fighting through the pain changing into quiet moans. He became intensely aware that his hand was kneading her bare flesh, how soft and supple it was, and how close her body was to his. The very idea that he'd ever touch a girl had never crossed his mind, aside from the moment of hard truth, a few years earlier, that it'd never happen. Now he was doing so, and in a way that felt… very intimate, despite its simple necessity. He tensed under the realization flooding him, but she didn't seem to notice. Inwardly, he chided himself, embarrassed to have entertained a thought a foolish as Donnie's pointless yearnings. That was all she needed. Another guy dogging her heels.

It couldn't be easy for her, he mused, being the only girl in a house full of frustrated males.

"We'll focus on your lower body right now," he said finally. "Seeing as you're hurt."

Her head whipped around a wide smile full of gratitude brandished on her face.

"Five am," he asserted. "And no bitching."

"No bitching," she agreed, enthusiastically. "I still can't believe I just allowed Donnie to get away with placating me for so long."

Raph shrugged, mischievous grin crossing his face. "Can hardly blame him. Sparring with you is probably the closest he'll ever get to foreplay." It was a risqué thing to say – especially when he knew, even if April didn't, that he'd just been contemplating her bare skin beneath his hands. But in a way, it also forced him to just deal with it as he had a tendency to do, barreling into things head first. Why pretend like the subject of sex was irrelevant when they were six hormone-addled teenagers?

April's eyes shot wide. "Raphael Hamato!" she shouted aghast, before falling into a fit of laughter. He quickly followed suit, all the tension in the room suddenly dissipating, until they heard a pawing at the door.

"Who is it?" Between her laughter and fighting for air, April barely managed to get the words out.

The door opened and Mikey slid in flat on his plastron across the floor, looking like a dejected puppy. "Do you still hate me?" he entreated, with big, pleading eyes.

"Who could hate that sweet face?" April replied, her voice soft and warm.

Michelangelo's face instantly brightened, his eyes closed soaking in her adoration, complete with a self-satisfied smile. "It is sweet, isn't it?" he agreed.

Raphael rolled his eyes and relinquished his hold on April, knowing she'd be moving to appease him further anyway. He'd seen this act a million times before, allowing his baby brother to get away with murder for things the rest of them would have been held accountable for. Hell, if anything he suspected April would probably be returning from the pawn shop any day now with some new games just to further satisfy him.

"Hey, you okay?" Mikey asked with concern upon noticing her exposed shoulder.

She worked her arm back into the sleeve. "It's just a sprain. No big deal. Raph took care of it."

Satisfied with her explanation, he entreated, "Wanna hang out?", which Raph suspected was half the reason he had shown up anyway.

"Sure," April agreed and started getting up, Mikey already happily barreling his way down the stairs ahead of her. She turned to him once more. "Coming?"

"I'll be down later," he answered. He could use a break from the emotional roller coaster of the day, but was glad she thought to ask him.

"Thanks," she said, sincerely. "For everything today. It's nice to have someone to go to. Someone that will give it to me straight. I hope - " she added, thoughtfully, "I hope you know that I'm willing to be that person for you…if you need it."

He nodded graciously, not sure how else he was supposed to respond, and she quietly slipped out the door.

He exhaled deeply, as though he'd been holding in a breath and hadn't realized it, and resumed his usual place on a stool overlooking Leonardo. "You enjoy all that?" he demanded of Leo, the room now empty and quiet. "Don't give me that look. I know what I'm doing."


End file.

Ninja Turtles, Drama, Romance