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katielynn526 · 7 years

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Before I Love You

My entry for @kleptotello’s Apriltello Day 2017

Probably should’ve written fluff but my heart screamed angst. This is the first legitimate fanfic I’ve ever written for Ninja Turtles and my first romance-fic as well, so hopefully it isn’t complete trash.

Credit to my friend @itwasntthatgood for beta reading and helping me come up with the title. She’s the best! Love you CC!

Summary: (Post-Buried Secrets) April tells herself she’s fine. She’s been telling herself for months. But after defeating a monster with her mother’s face, April finds she can only hold her emotions down for so long before something snaps.

Fortunately, she can always count on her best friend to help her pick up the broken pieces.

Versions on AO3 and FF.net

Inhale, one, two, three, four… Hold. Exhale, One, two, three, four, five-

A sudden rush of pain, an invasive probe digging into her mind, coiling its tentacles around every thought. Nothing is safe, nothing is hers.

April O’Neil your mind belongs to Kraang.

A screeching trill echoes in her ears. It’s horrifying and alien, but unexplainably familiar. Her brain feels fried, like a live wire plugged into an overcooked circuit. It’s all around her, the hive mind. Millions of thoughts touching hers, squashed together like sardines. She is buried in the alien screeching, all crying out at once. There is no her, there is only the collective, only Kraang.

One of us. One of us.

April’s eyes fly open and she gasps for air. Her body shakes, clammy sweat pressing her tee-shirt to her back. The gasps gradually become slower, less panicked, as she takes in the world around her. She focuses on the soft, worn texture of the quilt under her hand, the floral patterns of the yellowing wall paper, the creak of old wood, the chirp of crickets outside her window. Its okay, everything’s okay. She’s safe at the farmhouse with the turtles and Casey.

She takes a calming breath, uncrossing her legs to pull them closer to her chest. Well, meditation was a bust, again.

Ever since April had become aware of her psychic abilities, courtesy of the very beings that stole her family and played genetic roulette with her DNA, Master Splinter had been teaching her to hone and control them. She’d sat with him in the dojo for private lessons; April could almost smell the woody aroma of the incense he burned, feel the tatami mat beneath her knees. Mostly he’d taught her meditation and breathing techniques.

“Mastery of one’s self comes first with the mastery of one’s mind” he’d tell her, “The body will soon follow.”

“The mind is a powerful weapon April, yours more so than most. In the time that you have been my pupil I have sensed in you a great power and an equally powerful will to wield it, but I am concerned. If you are not careful your abilities may become a double-edged sword, like the fool who falls victim to his own snare. Control is key. Without it I fear these powers would consume you.”

So she’d kept up the meditation every night before she went to sleep. She’d focused on recalling every lesson Sensei had ever taught her, but her mental barriers felt weaker than ever and Master Splinter was gone, just like her dad.

April quickly envisions an industrial strength, steel door and slams it shut behind that train of thought. He father wasn’t gone, not yet, he was just kidnapped…and mutated. Nothing she hadn’t dealt with before right? April feels a strain of hysterical laughter starting in the back of her throat, but she quells it. God her life is so fucked up. But yeah, dad’s not dead yet. And Splinter…

A padlock appears on the door and April locks it for good measure.

Well, she certainly isn’t getting any sleep, not feeling like this. April slips out the bed and shakes the pins and needles from her legs, still half asleep from her poor attempt at meditation. The only source of light in the hallway is moonlight pouring in from the windows, but it’s more than enough for April to find the stairs.

Padding down the hallway in her bare feet, April revels in the mental silence. Everyone is asleep, their minds muted and peaceful. It reminds her of looking out over a glassy lake. If she concentrates April can almost sense the thoughts swimming just below the surface, burrowing into the subconscious and coalescing into dreams.

It’s a welcome relief from the day, where the overwhelming emotions of five other minds flood into her own without warning, a pulsating thrum of constant activity that catches her off guard at the worst times. It doesn’t help that she’s not the only one grieving a loss…

April sighs, pressing the heel of her palm into the bridge between her eyes.

It didn’t use to be this difficult. Back when her powers were just a glimmer in her subconscious, a vague gut sense that she occasionally relied on, April would use to techniques Splinter had taught her. She’d erected walls in her mind, mentally laying stone upon stone, creating a division between her thoughts and the input she received from others.

Then the Kraang had kidnapped her, giving back her father only to use him as a sleeper agent against her. They’d hooked her up to that horrible machine. April could still see the wrinkled, hideous face of Kraang Prime as it leered down at her, mocking her deluded notions of free will.

“Your mind belongs to Kraang, April O’Neil. You were designed for Kraang and you shall fulfill your purpose!”

And then she’d felt it, the Kraang hive mind, a seething mass of thought that broke through her carefully constructed walls as if they were made of paper mache. It felt like she was drowning, slowly choking on the onslaught of alien consciousness pressing in on her from every side. It was agony, but April couldn’t scream, she couldn’t even blink. Every nerve ending tingled and seized, her body unable to process what was happening. It felt as if she’d been thrown headlong into a vat of acid, slowly eating away at every piece that made her, her. In her last conscious thought April had wondered if this was what it felt like to mutate. And, for one horrifying second that lasted a lifetime, April O’Neil ceased to be, her consciousness melting into a writhing sea of pink tentacles.

And then she was back, her body aflame, heart beating arrhythmically. Large hands wrapped around her shaking form, steadying her as the strange glowing helmet was ripped away. Warm brown eyes held her gaze, so full of concern and love that she could drown in them.

“My hero…”

April hugs her arms tightly as she reaches the stairwell. She didn’t know how long she’d been hooked up to that machine, but it changed her somehow, flipped some switch in her brain lying dormant. Maybe it was exposure to the Kraang hive mind, or the way her consciousness had been stretched like an elastic on the verge of breaking, either way it awakened something, something she couldn’t switch off.

At first she’d thought it was the stress of being kidnapped, a temporary after effect of the Kraang’s freaky brain machine. Overstimulation is a common symptom of PTSD, her dad would tell her. And he would know, being not only a psychologist, but a victim of the Kraang himself. April recalled the way his hands would shake when the news reported another mutant sighting, how he would hug her a little too tightly every time she left the apartment. There were countless nights that he would wake up screaming, April jolting awake with him, the raw fear in her father’s mind pressing against her windpipe.

Then, he was gone again, mutated against his will into a horrifying bat creature. The sight was burned into her mind, his skin bubbling, stretching across reforming muscle and bone, the scream that tore from bleeding gums. April felt his pain, his fear, felt the last shreds of her father’s consciousness give into the snarling madness of his mutation. There was nothing she could do. And, even amid the agony, she felt his love for her, his relief that she was safe, that he had protected her.

April hadn’t been angry, that was too simple a word. She’d been enraged, she’d been heartbroken. It felt like a gas fire incinerating her from the inside. Nothing was okay, nothing could ever be okay.

Her mental barriers were little more than rubble, her mind a swirling tempest, and April wanted to scream as foreign thoughts constantly bombarded her brain. She felt her aunt’s concern for her, the pain of the old woman next door who’d lost her husband, the anger of a teen who had his bike broken by Purple Dragons, the hopelessness of a homeless man who’d decided to sleep in the alley.

She saw the way the other kids stared at her school, feeling their eyes on the back of her head. She sensed their judgement, their pity.

There were days where sometimes April couldn’t distinguish her feelings from everyone else’s. They would all merge into a muddled haze of emotion. That’s what had scared her the most.

On those days she would lock herself in her room, slipping on earbuds and turning her music up to full blast, trying to drown out all the thoughts, even her own, with the pulsating beat. It wasn’t until she’d woken up and cut her feet on the broken glass that she noticed the mirror on her bedroom door had shattered.

That’s when April knew something was seriously wrong.

What had once been a soft undercurrent of thoughts and feelings at the back of her mind had morphed into a constant swell she couldn’t escape, like she was suffocating her own head.

Relief came in more ways than one when April made amends with the turtles. Master Splinter only had to look at her to see the mental strain her amplified powers had wrought. The familiar scent of sweat and incense that hit her the moment she’d followed Sensei into the dojo had almost made her break down right then and there.

Things were better after that. It took a while, and a lot of sore muscles, but she fell back into the steady routine of her training. Master Splinter helped her build stronger walls and helped her focus on being an immovable stone in the rushing river; she controlled the current, it did not control her.

Mirrors stopped shattering, the headaches grew less frequent, and, for brief periods of time, April could sense only her consciousness in an empty mind.

Should’ve known it was too good to last.

Reaching the bottom step, April feels a shiver race up her spine the moment her feet brush the threadbare carpet. She grips the banister, knuckles turning white. A sick sense of wrong twists her gut and curls around her like acrid smoke.

Beneath her, April feels the Kraang stealth ship she, Casey, and the turtles found just a few days ago. Specifically, she feels the psychic remnants its creators left behind.

She’s been trying to ignore it, trying not to shudder every time she walks into the front room. Because how pathetic would that be right? The stupid, pink monsters aren’t even down there anymore, just the wreckage left in their devastation of her life.

But it’s impossible not to feel them. For as long as she’s been aware of her abilities, and maybe even earlier, April has always been able to sense the Kraang. It’s all too easy to pick out their presence, even in a city of 8 million humans. She’s not proud of it. It repulses her every time one of their slimy minds brushes against her own. It reminds her of everything she is and the one thing she’s not: completely human.

April’s thoughts are given too much freedom in the stillness of the sleeping farmhouse and wander a little too close to that steel padlocked door. Her mother’s image swims before her eyes, neck elongating, warm green eyes shifting into hungry glowing orbs, fangs jutting out of the snarling maw.

It wasn’t her mother. It had only ever been a creature wearing her face. So, how had she been fooled?

She stares down at the floor, glaring at the hinge of the trapdoor that peeks out from beneath the rug. It had been more than her mother’s face that’d deceived her, that much she’s sure of. April is a pro at picking up ill-intent, always knowing when there’s danger. Mikey calls it her “jinkies” sense. But the Kraang monster had bypassed every one of her mental defenses. It’d radiated this sense of safety, of belonging; of home.

It was only after it was too late that those feelings began to warp into something more sinister, turning rotten like the sickly sweet stench of decaying meat. It was still home, but it wasn’t safe anymore.

Every time the creature was around her, subconsciously April had felt that strange pull in the depths of her mind that she’d come to associate with the Kraang. It was a need, a longing for the familiar. Because she wasn’t just human, she was part Kraang, too.

April breathes quickly through her nose, squeezing her eyes shut and banishing yet another train of thought behind that locked door. Because if she doesn’t, she’s going to puke.

She focuses on calming her breaths. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. [SP2] She uncurls her fingers before her nails dig further into her palms.

Its fine, she’s fine; solid as a stone amid the rapids.

Behind her closed lids April can sense her mind slowly coming back to her. It shrinks once more to accommodate the limits of her body. The last thing she needs to do is wake up the whole house with her negative thoughts. But her mind has brought something else back, a calming presence that feels like a warm breeze tickling the back of her neck.

Someone’s still awake and she knows who, only one person feels like that.

April goes to the window, pulls back the curtain, and, sure enough, there’s a light on in the barn. Donnie’s busy burning the midnight oil, literally in this case. The familiarity of it quirks her lips into a smile. She makes a mental note to pick up more refills for the propane lamps the next time her and Casey drive into town.

Without even thinking, April turns and walks into the kitchen, going to the counter and picking up the container off-brand coffee, measuring the right amount into a filter. She places the grinds into the ancient coffee machine that groans as she switches it on.

It’s a scientific fact that Donatello is far less likely to ask concerned questions if she distracts him with the promise of caffeine.

Underhanded? Yes. Effective? Nearly 98% of the time.

April leans against the counter, her fingers drumming against the cheap clapboard, keeping time with machine as it grinds and splutters. She runs a hand through her tangle of hair, free of its usual headband and tied in a messy knot at the nape of her neck.

Listening to the stillness, she senses a single bubble of thoughts rising out of the steady hum of slumber upstairs. It floats up towards, happy and carefree. April can almost taste the cotton candy on her tongue. Yep, April smiles, definitely Mikey.

At least someone’s having a good night.

When hot liquid starts to trickle down into the coffee pot, April questions if she should be doing this. A second later, her mind reels at the notion.

What is she worried about? It’s Donnie, and she does this all the time.

April can’t count the number of times she’s spent hanging out in Donatello’s lab after school, helping him out with some science project or invention. It’s improved her chem. Grade, that’s for sure, her performance in shop class too…

Some days, when her aunt’s apartment felt too suffocating, she would go down there to work on homework, unwind, or just vent about all the dumb kids at school. Donnie’s never minded her invading his space like he does his brothers. Truthfully, she always suspected he liked hearing about her school life, the good, the bad, and the ugly. The idea that the prison of sweaty teenagers she calls high school could be a novel concept to anyone never ceased to amuse her.

There were days spent in comfortable silence, days filled with talking and laughing and dumb inside jokes…

Then, she was living in the lair, forced into hiding for her own safety. She’d hated it. Not the living with the turtles part, but the fact that she’d had to relinquish what little normalcy was left in her life. She never thought she’d actually miss high school.

Without the distraction of her aunt and school, her nightmares became more and more frequent. Most nights were spent jolting awake in a cold sweat and walking around the lair to calm herself down.

It was always a relief to see the light on in Donnie’s lab. April would come bearing coffee or cans of ‘Wake Up’ and he would greet her with an easy smile. Honestly, April suspected she’d fallen asleep more times in Donnie’s lab than the Hamato’s makeshift guest room.

Why should now be any different? She knows he won’t mind, Donnie never minds.

Maybe that’s the problem…

Subconsciously, April’s thoughts flicker to the hand carved music box still sitting untouched in the living room.

The telltale gurgle of the coffee machine echoes in the kitchen and April looks up to see the last drop of coffee splash into the pot. Fishing two large mugs from the cabinet, April pours the tar black liquid into both, not bothering with any cream, or sugar. She breathes in the scent, feeling her sluggish senses perk up with the promise of cheap sustenance.

Sleep is for the undercaffeinated.

April throws her Dad’s old swampers over her feet and grabs his leather jacket still hanging on the coat rack. It’s about ten years out of style but the lining is warm and it smells like aftershave and the cinnamon Altoids he always kept in his pockets.

Balancing the mugs in her hands, April uses every bit of her ninja training to kick open the screen door, stop it with her foot before the hinges squeak, and place it back without making a sound, all without spilling a drop of coffee. A sly grin creeps up her face. Let’s see Karai do that.[SP3]

She follows the warm tendrils of Donnie’s mind, a glowing trail leading right to the barn. Her mind stretches out ahead of her, like a moth to flame…

She gets as far as the half-open doorway before she suddenly stops. The embrace of his consciousness is still there, waiting. Her mind impatiently tugs at her.

April bites her lip at the pang of guilt that stabs her heart. Her fingers curl tightly around the mugs as she stares at that crack of warm light in the dark.

What is she doing?

Ever since they’d come out to the farmhouse, wearied refugees of an alien invasion, April had been quietly avoiding Donatello as much as she had Casey. Her mind was awash with the pain of four minds all crying out in grief. Then there was Leo, whose mind had been a tempest trapped under a sheet of ice, still alive, but struggling.

Donnie, for all the guilt and grief he radiated after losing his father and caring for his comatose brother, had still been too tempting a comfort to fall into. He promised a refuge from the storm in her head. That first week, all she’d wanted to do was hide her face in his plastron and feel his arms around her as she cried for her lost father, for her lost adopted father, for her aunt, and her home, and everything normal left in her life.

She’d wanted to close her eyes and feel the safety of Donatello’s mind around hers, take in all his affection and understanding…

And love.

It’s so fucked up. She knows it’s fucked up.

Donnie has a crush on her, he always has. It’s as much a fact of life as stating “the sky is blue” and you would have to be blind not to see it. The feelings practically radiate off him like a small sun.

It’d really never bothered her before. Sure, he could be a little over the top and awkward, but it was sweet. She was obviously his first crush and it showed. But it was also nice to have a friend, someone she could text at 3 am because her aunt’s guest room was too quiet and she missed the sounds of her father padding around the house in those stupid sandals he wore over his socks, raiding the fridge for a late night snack.

With Donnie, there was always someone to ask how she was, someone to laugh at her dumb jokes, someone to cheer her on when she perfected another kata, and someone to show her how to do the move correctly when she failed.

She’d thought once Donnie had gotten to know her better, gotten comfortable around her, his feelings would fade. After all, she was the first girl he’d ever met. Sooner or later he had to realize there wasn’t anything special about her—Oh those simple days before she’d known she was the Kraang’s pet guinea pig. Not that that kind of special was a good thing…

Should she have told him back then he didn’t have a shot? That he was chasing a path that would only lead to heartbreak? Maybe…

But then April wouldn’t get to see his eyes light up when he looked at her, like she was the only person in the room, wouldn’t get to see that warm smile he reserved just for her. It was overwhelming and a little embarrassing, but it was sincere. And, to a girl who’d just lost everything, it meant the world.

She’d been waiting, almost with a sense of dread, for the day Donatello would wake up and see that she was just another girl. But that day never came. Instead, April found herself caring more and more for the turtle—the person—who was slowly becoming her best friend.

And then her powers had been amped up to a million and it felt like her brain would collapse into a pile of human/Kraang mush, except when she was around Donnie…

Honestly, April doesn’t know if it’s the way Donatello’s brain is wired or if it’s just the way he feels about her, but there’s something about Donnie’s mind that puts hers at ease. With him around it’s easier to think, easier to be herself. His presence pushes back the influx of foreign thoughts and feelings until only her own remain, his mind wrapping around hers like a cozy, protective blanket.

She doesn’t even mind the constant buzz of ideas flitting around his headspace, like pistons firing in an engine. To some it might be annoying, but it just reminds April of her father, the way his mind felt when he’d sequestered himself in his study, hard at work writing another article for the NYU psych journal.

April’s ashamed to admit she’s come to rely on it. Whenever she would come down to the lair, she could almost see her mind stretching outwards, searching for the familiar presence the way a child would for a comforting plush toy. It feels immature and weak, and April hates herself for it.

She’s always been fiercely independent. Whether that’s the result of her natural personality, or the fact that she’s grown up with an absent minded, single Dad who occasionally forgets to eat, she doesn’t know. But April was used to being on her own, taking care of herself, until the Kraang decided to swoop in and fuck everything up. Just like that, every illusion of control she’d had over her life was shattered. And it really, really, REALLY sucked.

Then, the invasion happened and there’s Donnie looking at anything but her while she cleaned and wrapped his wound, fiddling with his hands like he always does when he’s nervous. And suddenly he’s clearing his throat and looking at her with those big brown eyes and she knows. She knows exactly what he’s going to say. The only problem: she doesn’t know what so say back.

So, she took the coward’s way out, she cut him off before he could say it, distracted him with the pain of his injury. It was awful and spineless and she’s not proud of it. But could he have picked a worse time? There was a freaking invasion going on outside, Leo and Master Splinter were MIA and people were screaming in the streets as Kraang ships dropped mutagen on whole city blocks.

But Donnie is Donnie, and if he wasn’t making awkward declarations of love in the middle of an alien apocalypse then he wouldn’t be the turtle she’s come to know and love.

Love… she’s starting to hate that word.

April selfishly wishes he hadn’t said anything at all, because now it’s weird. If there’s one thing April O’Neil does not need more of in her life, it’s weird.

Donnie’s warm mind presses against her senses again, like a cat rubbing its cheek insistently against her leg. And all she wants is to go inside and ask him what he’s working on, see that cute little expression he gets when he’s concentrating on something where his tongue pokes out of his mouth. More than anything, she wants to put this awkwardness behind them and go back to the way things were.

Is it even right for her to want that?

“April, we’re together again. We can go back to the way things were.”

The memory of her fake mother’s words sends another shiver down April’s spine. That loathing she usually reserves specifically for the Kraang has suddenly turned inward, choking her. A toxic thought rises up from behind that locked door, coiling around her like a snake. Her eyes widen in horror. What if she’s using Donnie just like her mother—that creature—had used her, using him like the Kraang wanted to use her?

What if she’s no better than them?

One of us. One of us.

April’s jaw clenches, her body sways dangerously, and she’s positive she’s going to blow chunks then and there.

But, then her senses hone in on a hostile presence directly above her, and the all-consuming thoughts of self-loathing fall silent against her mind screaming DANGER!

Instinctively April tenses, acutely aware of the two full mugs of coffee in her hands and her tessen, sitting uselessly upstairs by her bedside table. Way to go O’Neil. She kicks herself mentally for such an amateur oversight. But there’s no time to play the ‘what if’ game.

The hostile leaps off the roof, landing silently on the dirt. Unfortunately for them, April can sense exactly where they are. Whirling around, the young kunoichi throws out one of the mugs sending a spray of scalding liquid at her would-be attacker.

Donatello barely manages to duck and roll out of the way in time, letting out a very un-ninja-like yelp.

“Donnie?” April stares down at the turtle, mortified, a hot blush creeping up into her cheeks. And sure enough, there’s his warm, familiar mind brushing against hers. Oh god… Stupid! How had she not recognized him earlier?

“April?” The lanky turtle straightens up and stares at her, dumbfounded, nictitating membranes lift to reveal those questioning brown eyes. “April, What are you…” He trails off, thinks for a minute, and starts again “Why are you-“

“I brought coffee!” She blurts out, holding up the one full mug left and trying not to think about the empty mug still dripping in her other hand. Her face must be as red as her hair.

The shock of seeing her must have worn off because Donnie takes one look at her, then to the steaming puddle of java next to his foot and his lips quirk up in a smile. “I can see that.” Amusement shines in his eyes and April just knows he’s holding back his laughter, the jerk. “Did you bring it for me or the ground?”

“Hey, you startled me,” April rebuffs indignantly, cheeks going even redder, “And you should know anything can be a weapon in the hands-“

“-of a Kunoichi.” He finishes, Donatello’s hands raise in mock surrender, his grin just wide enough for her to see the gap in his teeth. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re hanging around the barn at…” He pulls his T-phone off his belt and switches it on. “Oh sewer apples, 2am?! Is it really that late?”

April winces, last time she checked the microwave in the farmhouse kitchen it’d only been midnight. Then again, the thing was made in the 80s and notorious for running slow. She bites back a groan. Training is gonna suck tomorrow, Raph is sure to see her fatigue and use it to his advantage when they spar.

Trying to smile, she holds out the remaining mug in her hand “Coffee?”

Donnie lets out a sigh, but takes the mug, grinning appreciatively. “You’re evil, you know, feeding my addiction like this. Leo would not approve.” That said, he still takes a long sip, eyes closed in bliss as if the cheap general-store-joe was a gourmet blend.

There it is. The easy banter between them she’d so sorely missed. Even after the all awkward winter months, April feels herself slipping into it with ease. “Then I guess we won’t tell him.”

The purple banded turtle laughs and April savors the joy as it wraps around her. It sours, though, when those toxic wisps of thought start to rise again, rearing their ugly tendrils. April’s reminded of the time her English class focused on Greek mythology, the myth of Hercules and the hydra: Cut off one head, two more grow in its place…

“April?” She blinks and looks up to see Donnie still standing next to her, frowning in concern.

“Sorry,” April says automatically, brushing back a strand of loose hair and twisting it into her bun. “Didn’t sleep that well so I’m pretty spacey right now.” She averts his gaze, her tone doesn’t leave room for discussion.

And Donnie, bless him, drops it, because he’s Donnie and he cares enough to respect her space. Even after she’s ignored him, spontaneously kissed him, and thrown scalding coffee at him all over the course of a few months.

She doesn’t deserve it. She’s using him.

Oh stuff it! April beats back the inky black tendrils as they fight for dominance, taking great satisfaction in slamming them back behind that steel door and snapping the padlock closed.

Donnie frowns in concern for a moment more, but conceals the expression quickly. April can still sense the questions lingering in his mind.

Instead he opts for the safer course of action, falling back on wit. “So…Do you want to actually come inside? I take it that’s what you came here to do…?” He nudges her shoulder playfully, taking another long drag of coffee.

“Shut up,” April grins, shoving against his rock-hard bicep. He has the decency to flinch. “What are you working on anyway?”

“Thought I was supposed to shut up?” He asks innocently.

She gives him a look, trying hard not to grin.

He takes the hint, going over to the barn door and holding it open for her “Milady?”

April nearly groans, it’s so corny and over-the-top, but she would be lying if she told herself she didn’t miss it. She falls into stride beside him as they walk into the barn.

“Well the circuit breaker’s still on the fritz courtesy of our dear friend Mr. Jones.” The words drip with fond sarcasm as Donnie gestures to the slightly scorched fuse box on the wall that Casey had used to fry the Kraang monster. “But, it should be up a running as soon as you guys can get some more fuses in town. Good thing I made that back-up generator ahead of time, eh?” He grins and gestures to something that looked like it started out as an old tractor engine merged with a pre-war hairdryer and LOTS of duct tape. It hums and splutters along cheerily in the corner, occasionally rattling the old, rusted truck hull next to it.

“It can’t run very much though, that’s what all these are for.” He reaches up and taps one of the many propane lanterns he’s hung from the rafters, casting a warm, flickering glow about the room. “Old fashioned, but they definitely get the job done.”

April looks up and can’t help but admire her friend’s handy work. If she lays down on the hay bales and squints, it’s almost like seeing fireflies up in the dark ceiling.

“Just remember to switch them off when you’re done, okay? Dad always used to lecture me about being careful with these things whenever we had to use them. This barn is older than my grandpa, one wrong move and it could go up like dry kindling.”

Donnie scoffs, rolls his eyes, and says dismissively “April, genius remember? I think I know how to handle a primitive incandescent light source.”

“Says the genius who blew up his lab,” She counters with ease, a hand on her hip.

Donnie has the good grace to look embarrassed. “Hey that was one-“

“Six times,” She grins when she sees the warm blush creeping up under his speckled green skin.

“Okay, maybe-”

“In the past year.”

The blush is now prominently displayed underneath his purple mask, April can sense his affronted confusion. She’s having WAY too much fun with this. “How did you-”

“Mikey.”

Michelangelo, self-proclaimed troublemaker and reliable source of dirt and all things blackmail-related. Being constantly thought of as oblivious or dumb had its advantages, he was far more observant than anyone gave him credit for.

Donnie’s shoulders slumped in defeat “Of course. Remind me to thank the goofball later, maybe sick the chickens on him again.” He lets out this little huff and makes an expression that reminds her far too much of a pouting child.

April laughs and he shoots her a glare that would’ve made Mikey high-tail it out of the lab faster than Casey when confronted with trig, but it only makes her laugh harder. When was the last time she laughed? She clutches her side and feels tears prick her eyes. It wasn’t even that funny, but, oh God, had she missed this.

And maybe, she thinks, catching the grin on Donnie’s still blushing face that he’s trying to hide behind his hand, just maybe he’d missed her too…

A flash of pink catches on the outskirts of her vision and a familiar prickling shiver quickly drags April from her good mood. There, on Donnie’s work bench, is a mass of shiny metal, tangled wires, and circuit boards, all bearing the tell-tale design of alien engineering. Kraang tech.

It must’ve come from the stealth ship. It’s inactive and harmless, but April can still sense the latent threat lurking beneath. How was that even possible? April doesn’t know what’s worse, being able to sense the Kraang from their derelict machinery alone, or only thinking she’s sensed them, her mind playing some sick game with her.

Sensing the abrupt shift in mood, Donnie follows her gaze to the flayed insides of the alien machinery.

“They’re from what I suspect to be the navigational systems of the stealth ship,” Donnie explains, walking up to the workbench and fiddling with one of the circuit boards “Or, I suppose, it’s astrogation in this case. I thought it would be good to study the stealth ship’s inner workings. It might be a good century out of date for the Kraang, but it still lightyears ahead of anything we’re capable of.”

He gestures to the numerous diagrams he’s drawn of the ship and pinned to the corkboard above the desk. He’s sketched the exterior, estimating what it would’ve looked like before its crash landing, then the interior. April recognizes the long, vein-like designs running along the metal walls that she’s come to associate with the Kraang. In the margins is Donnie’s cramped handwriting, he’s drawn arrows to different sections of the ship, speculating what each part might do. April can almost read the chicken scratch, but then it drifts off into scribbled kanji and she’s completely lost.

“The structural makeup of the ship is fascinating,” Donnie continues, pointing out a rough sketch he’d drawn of what looks like the main control panel. It’s hard to tell, seeing as it’s the same streamlined, black as the rest of the ship’s surfaces when inactive.

“Most of the on-board systems actually rely entirely on a kind of neutral interface, able to recognize the specific brain patterns of its commanders and relay that information to the subordinates. Think of a Kraang broadcasting system, but all in the mind.” He points to a doodle he’s drawn of a cartoonish Kraang with an old TV antenna sticking out of its head and radio waves around it. “That’s why there are so few buttons, or recognizable displays. The entire thing literally runs on brain power.” Donnie snorts at his own lame joke.

“Honestly, it’s odd that they even built those robot bodies with translators and audio capabilities. The way they naturally communicate telepathically is faster and WAY more efficient, although it would explain their complete butchery of the English language. I mean why would you even need proper sentence structure when you could just communicate your intentions through thoughts and ideas? It’s a completely different way of doing things…”

April quietly watches as Donnie rambles on, completely lost in his own musings. He’s in his element, and it shows. She loves watching how his smile lights up, how his hands gesture excitedly as he talks, the way he’ll occasionally look at her as if to say, ‘Look at this? Isn’t it amazing! Please tell me you think this is as cool as I do!’ The joy that radiates off him is palpable; April can almost hear the gears turning, the pistons firing; it’s intoxicating.

She just wishes it doesn’t have to be about the Kraang. Sometimes it feels like she can never escape them. She should be enjoying listening to her best friend talk about what he loves and nerding out with him, letting that happiness wash over her and bury the horrible truths eating away at her mind. Instead all she can picture is that cartoon TV antenna sticking out of her head and the screeching trill of the Kraang as their thoughts infiltrate her own.

One of us. One of us…

“I’ve also been rooting through the information I stole from the ships memory banks.” Donatello says, pointing to his recently repaired laptop and the scroll of text on its display. He’s too absorbed in his explanation to see April’s momentary grimace.

“The commander didn’t exactly keep a captain’s log like on Space Heroes. But, there is a mission statement and a record of their findings.” He explains, “It’s all Kraang-speak so it reads like one big stream of consciousness, but from what I can determine, the ship was scouting out the area. It was one of hundreds the Kraang sent out to all the dimensions they’d marked for possible colonization. The ship was supposed to take samples of the atmosphere, determine if the planet-”

“If earth was good for them to come on in and make themselves at home,” She finishes sourly. Too bad for them, this planet had come with its own pest problem. April folds her arms tightly across her chest to suppress another shiver. She doesn’t miss the pang of concern Donnie throws her way, choosing to look intently at the laptop screen.

His snout wrinkles in similar disgust, coming out of his scientific detachment to acknowledge the uglier reality.

“Pretty much, yeah. From what I understand, the craft crashed while in the middle of running a scan of the terrain. The system experienced an error and abruptly shut down. Unfortunate for them, because the Kraang based the ship’s systems on their own minds. Everything was interconnected…”

He snags a few books left on a nearby desk to demonstrate, lining three up into a row. “It’s like a domino effect, when one system goes, they all go.” Donnie gives one of the books a light tap and April watches as all three fall, the final book tipping over the desk and hitting the dirt floor with a thump.

“It’s a pretty huge oversight and I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d corrected it over the past century, or however long that is in Dimension X-time. But if they haven’t, well…” He claps his hands together, a wicked grin crossing his face. “We may be able to use it against them.”

But the grin doesn’t last long as Donatello looks back at the laptop, scrolling down to the end of the ship’s records. He sighs and rubs at the back of his neck “Unfortunately for us, some emergency life support systems must’ve kicked in, putting the surviving Kraang inside the ship into a forced stasis. That is, until…” He trails off, looking at her in quiet resignation.

“Yeah,” She breathes, picking at a scratch in the old workbench and not looking at him.

Until good ol’ grandpa woke up the aliens in the basement and ended up cursing his entire bloodline and possibly kick-starting the alien invasion.

You know, typical dark family secrets. Everyone has them.

Most dark secrets don’t end up dooming the world.

After that there’s an uncomfortable stretch of silence that April desperately wants to break, but doesn’t know how. God dammit, why does it always come back to the Kraang and what they did to her, what they made her? The ache steadily increases in the back of her mind, toxic thoughts pounding relentlessly against the steel door, snapping the padlocked chain in two.

She feels Donnie’s gaze on her, those inquisitive eyes searching her face. He rocks back on his heels, fiddling with his hands, like he always does when he’s nervous. Donnie knows there’s something wrong, why else would she come find him at 2am after months of avoidance and painfully awkward small talk? April feels his need to fix things, to make it better.

She senses the question before it comes.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nothing to talk about.” She answers automatically, still refusing to look up. “Just couldn’t sleep,” April throws the entire force of her mental strength against the door, trying desperately to seal it shut.

I’m fine. Everything is fine.

“Mmm hmm,” Donnie hums thoughtfully. He’s trying to sound calm but his hands give him away, fingers plucking at the wraps over his palm. “That makes two of us. Although, I doubt you’re up this late because you’re excited about Kraang tech…” He trails off cautiously. The gentle push of his concern extends once more, but she pushes it away.

This should be the part where Donnie realizes she doesn’t want to talk and changes the conversation, uses one of his god-awful science puns to break the tension and make her smile. But, she knows her friend can only go so long with unanswered questions.

Just drop it. Please just drop it.

He doesn’t drop it.

Instead Donnie takes a deep breath and turns to her, “April, I hate to pry… but is this about what happened with your mother-“

April’s fists clench, her reaction instant and visceral. “That thing wasn’t my mom!” She snaps, finally looking up at him.

She feels the black tendrils of thought growing stronger and stronger, slamming violently against her mental walls.

Donnie’s eyes widen with shock and regret. “Sorry, poor choice of words.” He backtracks quickly. “It’s just… Well, it’s only been a few days and that was pretty intense-” He’s keeping that forced calm tone of voice, like she’s made of glass or something. April O’Neil: handle with care. It only makes the pressure in her head build, anger rising in her chest. She really, REALLY doesn’t want to talk about this.

“I’m fine!” She seethes through gritted teeth. “Just please drop it Donnie, okay?!” The dull ache sharpens to a needle’s edge, picking away at her skull. The steel door cracks open, black tendrils seeping out and rising to the surface of her mind, trying to choke her.

“Okay,” The word is almost too soft to hear. She looks up to see Donnie looking at her helplessly, brown eyes full of worry and hurt.

It wasn’t okay. Nothing about this was okay. She’s hurt Donnie, her best friend, the person who just wanted to make sure she was alright…

But that’s what she always does, isn’t it, hurt him? She uses him, uses all the kindness and love he offers so freely, only to give back uncertainty and pain in return. Just like the Kraang, like Irma, like that monster with her mother’s face. And the worst part is, even in the haze of heartache and concern that clouds his mind, April can’t sense any anger in Donnie’s mind.

Why isn’t he mad at her?!

April knows she needs to apologize, tell Donnie that all this is her fault and demand that he yell at her, condemn her for the monster she is. But her head won’t stop throbbing and the room won’t stop spinning.

April O’Neil, your mind belongs to Kraang

“April…?” She hears Donatello voice like he’s on the other side of the room. The loudest sound she hears is the blood pounding against her eardrums.

Her eyes furrow tight with pain, hands grasping at her temples. Something’s wrong. She closes her eyes, fighting off nausea, and seeing those black tendrils coil around her mind, consuming her every thought.

April… We can be together. No more pain… No more sorrow…

Her mother’s face flashes in her mind’s eye, mocking her.

“Are you alright?” Donnie sounds shrill and scared, she feels him press the back of his hand to her forehead, her skin hotter than normal again his cool scales. “You’re burning up…”

She can’t control it. The steel door is hanging off its hinges, thoughts and fears held back for so long come rising to the surface. Tears prick at her eyes and her brain feels like it’s going to explode.

“April! Please talk to me! What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Hands wrap tight around her shoulders, keeping her upright. But his voice sounds farther than ever, drowned out by the horrible voice of her not-mother…

One of us. One of us…

She’s just like them, all she does is bring pain. Her father’s gone, New York is a mutated wasteland. It’s her fault…

She feels Donnie’s mind reaching out, scared and frantic. And there’s his love bobbing in the tempest like a lifeboat, trying desperately to wrap around her, protect her. But April pushes him away. Why can’t he see she doesn’t deserve it?!

“Leave me alone!”

April screams, the world goes white, and off in the distance she hears a loud bang.

—————————————————

“-lease wake up! April, I need you to open your eyes.”

The first thing April feels is a cool hand pressing against her cheek. Her eyes squint open, the light making her already overcooked head pound more. Donnie’s staring down at her, his eyes wide and panicked, cradling her head gently off the ground. He’s still trying to keep his voice calm, but it’s strained and fraying at the edges.

She lets out a small moan, her hands feeling the rough woodgrain of the barn floor. When did she end up on the ground? And did anyone get the number of the bus that’d hit her?

“That’s it,” He urges gently, “Are you alright? Can you tell me if you feel any numbness, lightheadedness?” She knows that tone of voice. He’s in full ‘doctor Don’ mode, trying to hide his worry under the guise of clinical detachment.

But why is he in doctor mode? What did she-

April’s eyes fly open and she fights back a terrible wave of nausea as the light hits her all at once. Letting out another groan, April forces her shaking body to sit upright, and takes in the state of Donnie’s makeshift lab. Test tubes and beakers lay shattered on the workbench, their contents merging and dribbling onto a pile of books that fell on the ground. One of the propane lamps lays cracked and broken in the dirt, and the backup generator in the corner is little more than a smoking husk.

And there’s Donnie, kneeling next to her, studying her quietly, the concern in his mind mingling with uncertainty. There’s a long, thin gash across his cheek that’s dripping red, he hasn’t even noticed it yet.

A pressure builds in April’s chest, like all the oxygen has been sucked from the room. She can’t breathe.

She did this, all of it.

It’s her fault.

“Oh God… Oh god oh god oh god…” Her own voice sounds miles away. She stares at the shards of broken glass that litter the dirt, willing them to form back together, to fix themselves so she can keep denying that anything is wrong.

Her hands are shaking and her body begins to shiver, but she doesn’t feel cold, just numb. Hot tears trail down her cheeks. She can’t bring herself to wipe them away. It all feels empty somehow, like she’s on the outside observing this strange, ragged girl sitting there, surrounded by the destruction she’s created.

She’s just like them…

“April?” A hand lightly touches her shoulder, bringing her crashing back into her body and without thinking she jerks away with a cry.

She turns and Donnie is holding up his hands and slowly backing away. He looks confused and hurt, and April can almost see his mind going haywire behind that pained expression, not able to accept that he doesn’t know how to help her.

She’s hurting him. All she does is hurt him and she doesn’t know how to stop.

“I’m so sorry.” She chokes out and it’s a struggle to breathe as she forces small, choppy breaths into her lungs. She can’t even get out coherent sentences, but she needs him to know. “I don’t- I didn’t mean to- Oh God!” His purple mask blurs in her vision as more and more tears flow down her face.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Donnie’s trying to sound calm again, but she finds she doesn’t mind. He inches closer, tentatively touching her shoulder again. This time she lets him, leaning against his steady hand. “You’re okay. I need you to breathe deeply April. Can you do that for me?” She jerks her head in assent, letting his gentle tone wash over her and allowing slower gulps of air into her panicked lungs. The wheezing pants begin to fade. Don’s hand has migrated to the small of her back, his thumb rubbing slow circles between her shoulder blades. “Okay, in and out, nice and slow, inhale, exhale. There we go…”

April lets out another shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry Donnie, so sorry…” It feels like that’s all she can say, a broken record on loop. “I’m sorry.” April can’t stop the tears, or keep her body from trembling and she hates how weak it makes her feel. The steel door in her mind is melted and scorched, the padlock in pieces on the ground.

Donnie gives her shoulders a light squeeze, “It’s okay.” His words are meant to reassure her, but all she can do is shake her head and grab her arms tighter. Because, for once, her genius best friend is wrong.

“No! No it’s not!” He doesn’t understand that it’s her fault. She reaches into his mind and finds only concern, fear for her safety, a need to protect, and love… But there’s no anger.

Frustration bubbles up in her chest. Why isn’t he mad?! Can’t he see what she’s done? Her eyes trace the length of the lab, taking in the still smoking remains of the generator and all the jagged pieces of hot metal stuck in the walls. She looks at Donnie, the nicks on his forearms where he must’ve shielded himself from broken glass, the gash on his cheek, still dribbling a bit of blood. It came so close to his eye…

Can’t he see that she’s just going to keep hurting him, hurting his family? Because that’s what the Kraang designed her to do, isn’t it? She’s no better than that creature that wore her mother’s skin, a weapon in the guise of a human girl. Not even that, part-human.

“April, it’s alright.” He reiterates, stressing each word for effect, he kneels lower to meet her eyes, one hand still warm and heavy on her shoulder. “Seriously, I can fix-“

“Why aren’t you mad at me?” She doesn’t mean to say it out loud, but there it is. The words leave a void between them as Donnie stares at her, confused, like the very notion is a foreign concept.

“Mad at you…?”

“I did this. I ruined your lab, all your work.” April brings herself to look at him, eyes traveling to the gash. “I hurt you.”

Following her gaze, Donnie brings a hand to his cheek, surprised when his fingertips come back red. “It’s just a cut. I’ve had much worse. One or two stitches maybe and I’ll be fine-”

“That’s not the point!” April cries, her voice rising. How could she make him understand? “I hurt you and I couldn’t control it!”

“April, this isn’t your fault.” Donnie’s gentle tone is breaking down, his gaze insistent; like it is when he knows he’s right. But she refuses to let this be yet another thing he brushes off and just forgives her for. Not this time.

“Yes it is, Donnie!” April pushes herself to her feet, swaying dangerously from the head rush, but managing to stay upright. The tears are back, she wipes them away viciously with the back of her hand. “Why can’t you see that I’m just like them?”

“Them?” Donatello manages to look more lost than ever as he stands up to face her. His arms tense, ready to reach out and catch her if she falls. “Them who April? I don’t-”

“The Kraang!” She spits out the words like poison. “And that-that THING they created out of Mom! I’m no better than them, Donnie!”

Whatever he was expecting April to say, it wasn’t this. He gawks at her like she’s just told him something ludicrous, like the stars had decided to turn off. “What? April, you’re nothing like them!” He pauses, steepling his fingers “I mean, technically yes, if we factored in your DNA-”

“Exactly! That’s all I am, isn’t it?!” April insists, gesturing to herself in disgust “Some sick science project of human/kraang DNA! Just like Mom, just like all those freaky clones-“

“April-” The strain in Donnie’s tone is palpable, begging her to listen, but she can’t stop. Her mind is an open crater of black thoughts, spilling from her brain and out her mouth. He needs to know, he needs to understand.

“All I do is hurt people with these stupid powers.” The tightness in her chest is back and she’s choking on every word.

“April!”

“It was my half alien blood that allowed Kraang to just waltz right in and terraform New York.” Her fingers twist the fabric of her father’s jacket until they turn white and her eyes keep leaking hot tears. “It’s my fault our home is gone!”

“April,” Donnie struggles to find the right words, “there’s more to a person than just their DNA.”

“And I use people, just like they do.” She continues, the sudden, compulsive need to expel every terrible thought from her mind too great, but her cheeks burn with shame. Then she finally says it, no quieter than a whisper “I use you.”

April looks at Donatello, forces herself to watch as the words die in his throat. His eyes widen and his face crumples in confusion, and uncertainty, and hurt. It’s too cowardly to look away now. She takes a deep, shuddering breath and presses on.

“When I’m with you everyone else’s thoughts just… go away, and there’s just me again, and you. When I’m with you I can finally hear myself,” She admits. “And I know it’s horrible and weak, but I don’t want to go back to drowning in everyone else’s heads.”

Her bun nearly comes undone and she tugs a hand through her tangled red fringe. “It used to be so easy to block them out. But with everything that’s happened, New York, Dad, Master Splinter, I just… I’m so tired and I can’t turn it off!” She takes another shaky breath, exhaling with a humorless laugh, “I feel everything, the pain, the grief, the anger, everything.”

“April…” A warm hand presses against her shoulder and she wants so badly to fall into it, but she can’t. April holds herself rigid, hugging herself tighter as if to keep from floating away. She senses his eyes on her, but she can’t meet them, not until she gets out all she needs to say.

“I feel you, Donnie.” The gears turn in his mind as they try to process what exactly she means, but she senses them come to a grinding halt as he realizes the only thing her words can mean. She doesn’t even have to look to know he’s blushing. His thoughts are tinged pink with embarrassment, mingled with the same fearful uncertainty April’s feeling in her gut.

“Look…I know. I’ve known for a while.” She says, as if that somehow makes the situation any better. “And don’t you see? That’s what’s so fucked up!”

Uncertainty plummets into outright fear and she winces at how his voice cracks. “April I-”

But April cuts him off again, before he can come to the wrong conclusion. “I know how you feel and I still need to come out here and find you, be near you, even when I don’t even know what the hell I feel! I…” tired blue eyes finally rise to meet russet brown. “I just know I have to be near you, I- It’s stupid, and weird, and hard to explain…”

She fumbles, wracking her brain to find the right words. How can you tell someone that they make you feel normal just by being there? “You’re my best friend, Donnie, and when I’m with you it’s finally quiet and I’m me again…” She breathes, “Just me.”

Donnie’s gone still as a statue, his expression unreadable, his mind a jumble of warring emotions that makes her head spin.

“But I’m using you!” April cries in frustration, kicking pieces of stray glass as watching as they skitter across the floor. The shards blur as tears fill her eyes. Christ, why can’t she stop crying? “I know how you feel, I’ve known for so long and I… I just don’t know how I-” Her voice breaks and she can’t finish, “I’m so sorr-”

Long arms drape around her shoulders and April lets out a small gasp as she’s pulled into his embrace.

Her wet cheek presses against his cool plastron, the tails of her mask mingling with tangles of ginger hair. He smells like engine oil and leather and she closes her eyes and breathes it in, willing her breaths to slow and her hands to stop shaking.

Donnie’s not usually one to initiate physical affection, only offer it. He’s always allowed her to make the first move, always so careful and nervous when she does. Whenever she hugs him, or kisses his cheek, he goes all stiff and blushes, hugging her back like she’s one of the delicate inventions in his lab, so scared of ruining it and so eager to get it right.

But this embrace isn’t tentative, it’s firm and steady and so warm. Donnie’s hands press with gentle desperation into the small of her back, grounding her like a lifeline. Her still shaky hands wrap around his carapace as she clings right back, stray tears leaking from beneath closed lids. And there’s his mind, warm and extending out to encircle her own, wrapping around her consciousness, a tarp in the raging storm. She finally lets it in, lets it fill her to the brim until the dark thoughts are a distant memory and there’s only his heartbeat against hers.

Minutes pass, maybe hours, April doesn’t know, doesn’t want to know. This is the most at peace she’s felt in months, her mind a still sea stretching in all directions, finally quiet.

But off in the distance she hears Donnie’s voice, her eyes open as he pulls away slightly to look at her.

“April…” He implores.

“Yeah?” she breathes

“Shut up.”

And she does, wide eyed and bemused. The abruptness of his request steals the rest of the apologies away before they can leave her lips.

Donnie’s eyes widen too when his mind finally catches up to his words and breaks the hug to clap a hand over his mouth. Suddenly, the all too familiar, stuttering, blushing Donatello is back, fiddling with the leather strap across his plastron.

“Sorry, that’s was- what I meant to say was…please just…stop talking?” He facepalms, “Argh, no! It’s just…” He lets out a frustrated sigh and presses the heel of his palm between his eyes. It’s just such a Donnie expression that, in spite her confusion and aching head, April can’t help but crack a small smile

“April,” He looks at her, using that calm please-listen-to-me-I’m-using-logic voice. “You’re not some evil Kraang monster that’s going to hurt us. I know what your DNA looks like, remember? I’ve studied it.” He gestures to the laptop on the workbench, miraculously still intact amid the wreckage.

“You’re not just some monster implanted with fake memories like that copy of your mom, you’re not a mindless clone like those other Aprils at TCRI, and I know you’re not some Kraang bot in disguise.”

He places his hand back on her shoulder, eyes open and earnest. “You, April O’Neil, are a free-thinking person, who also happens to be part-alien. You may be able to tap into the Kraang’s hive mind, but they could never control you.” He gives her a shy grin, raising an eye ridge “I’d like to see them try. You’re you April, and you always have been.”

She wants to believe him, wants to fall into the certainty of his logic, but she can still feel the dark thoughts circling on the outskirts of her mind, right outside Donnie’s warm reassurance. The cut on his cheek has stopped bleeding, but it still looks raw.

“But my powers-” She protests. Subconsciously her hand reaches out to examine to wound.

Donnie follows her gaze and takes the smaller hand in his own before she can touch his cheek, his eyes never leaving hers. “We still don’t know how strong they are, or what you’re capable of,” He concedes, “But I know you would never intentionally hurt us.”

“And…” He adds, “If I recall correctly, those powers have saved our shells more than once. Need I remind you that the guys and I would still be stuck in that monster’s digestive track if it wasn’t for you?”

He’s right, but it was still her fault for not seeing that monster for what it was, allowing herself to be deceived until her friends paid the price. April breaks Donnie’s gaze, choosing the stare at the rough wooden boards and peeling paint of the walls. She focuses on a funny stain in the wood, probably slime from the monster’s innards when she’d blown it up.

“And you’re not using me,” He gently squeezes her shoulder, the insistence in his voice bringing her back. “Not if I want to help you.”

She looks at him and the quiet determination in his voice resonates through her core. This is the same Donnie that caught her when she was flung from a helicopter, the same Donnie that vowed he would find her father when he was kidnapped, that he would bring him back from the madness when he was mutated. This was the Donatello whose strength of mind was only rivaled by his heart.

“Look… If my mind can work as some sort of dampener on your powers and give you some room to breathe, I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

And April believes him, she always has. But she can’t let him do this.

“No,”

He blinks in surprise and a flash of hurt crosses his face. “No? April if-”

“Donnie, how can I keep letting you help me if I’m not even strong enough to help myself!?” She insists, slamming a hand to her chest. Shame burns in through her as April feels every ache and tremor in her frail not-quite-human body, her head a dull throbbing fog under the strain it’s endured.

Donatello opens his mouth to protest, but closes it when no words escape. He opens it again to let out a soft sigh and rub the back of his neck, eyes furrowed in thought.

Maybe he’s finally realized she’s not worth it.

To her surprise, the tall turtle walks past her, mindful to step around the glass, and sits down on the pile of hay bales in the corner. He gives her a strangely pleasant smile and pats the hay next to him, like she hasn’t just admitted to being the literal worst person ever.

April eyes narrow in confusion. What’s he up to?

But she does feel like shit, and her head hurts, and she’s pretty sure her shaky legs aren’t going to hold her up much longer, so sitting down it is. Glass that she’s too tired to avoid crunches under Dad’s heavy boots as she makes her way over to the hay and flops down beside Donatello.

Sitting down is heaven. April sighs as all her sore muscles scream with relief. Another spectacular downside to making uncontrollable psychic blasts with her mind, it always makes her feel like she’s overtaxed every cell in her body. She closes her eyes for a minute, savoring the warm darkness on the inside of her eyelids. Donnie shifts next to her, and April can feel him gathering his thoughts.

“Do you think Leo is weak because he’s using a crutch right now?”

The question catches her off guard, and he phrases it in that same light conversational tone he uses when posing a hypothetical idea. Her eyes snap open. “No! But…” Then April connects the dots and grimaces. “That’s different and you know it. His knee is still recovering”

“And your mind isn’t?”

April stares at him, her protests fading.

Seeing he has her attention, Donnie quickly elaborates. “April, the brain is a muscle, the most complex one we have. And if my theories are correct, your mind is a lot more powerful than most.” There’s a glint of intellectual joy in his eyes as he starts to ramble a bit, hands gesturing rapidly. “It’s able to not only think and process information, but receive and broadcast other electromagnetic wavelengths. It’s truly a marvel, like a human AM radio-”

“Donnie.” She gives him a look. Normally she’d be happy to watch him nerd out about science, maybe even join in, but she doesn’t have the same affinity for her “uniqueness” that he seems to.

“Right, sorry…” He gives a nervous laugh and clears his throat before getting back on track, “My point is that your brain undergoes a severe amount of stress every time you use your powers and you haven’t allowed it to recover.”

April holds back a frustrated huff. What is he talking about? They’ve been at the farmhouse doing nothing but recovering and living off her family’s emergency funds and questionably-expired canned food for months.

Donnie catches her disbelieving stare and holds up his hands defensively.

“Look, hear me out,” He begins carefully, “We’ve all been through a lot with your dad and Leo and…Sensei.” The word lingers uncomfortably until Donnie takes a breath and presses on, “And if you really can’t switch off your empathic abilities, if you’ve been picking up on everyone else’s emotional feedback…” He trails off, and tilts his head, and studies her in concern. “April, I think you’ve experienced everyone’s grief, but your own.”

What? She wants to protest, tell her friend how ridiculous that sounds, but the more April thinks about it, the less farfetched the theory becomes.

How often has she mistakenly someone else’s feelings for her own, channeled the emotions of others until her own sense of self becomes blurred and hazy?

Donnie takes her silence as affirmation to continue. “You know, ever since we were kids S-Sensei taught us the importance of strengthening our minds, building mental barriers to protect ourselves from outward invasion. Strength in mind and body and all that…” His hands fiddle absently as he speaks, picking up a piece of hay and methodically stripping it apart.

He isn’t looking at her anymore, shoulders hunching slightly. April watches him in quiet concern. She hasn’t heard him willingly talk about Splinter in months.

Out of all his brothers, April knows its Donatello who’s given up their father for dead. He’s quiet about it, never correcting Mikey when he talks about reuniting their family, never denying Leo’s claims about how strong and resilient their master is, never challenging Raph when he talks about storming back into New York and taking their home and father back. But there’s a fatal inevitability Donnie uses when talking about Splinter, a still, numbing grief that April can feel overtake his usually busy mind.

And she can see his reasoning: Donatello is a scientist; he doesn’t deal in things like denial and false hope, but in hard facts and certainties. And he’s certain there was no way Splinter could’ve survived. The sooner he can come to terms with this, the easier it will be to help his family cope with the loss when the time comes.

April understands, but she can’t share in his conviction, can’t bring herself to give up on the man who’s been like a father to her all these years. She hasn’t felt his presence in months, but who knows if she can even feel someone this far from the city…?

Donnie continues, a faraway look in his eyes “When we were seven he started making us meditate in the dojo for an hour every day before training. Imagine, making a kid like Mikey sit still.” He laughs quietly, hands still working on stripping the mutilated piece of hay down to its barest fibers. “Not that I’m one to talk. I could never shut my brain off for longer than five minutes, still can’t.” He admits, giving her a tight smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Mostly, I just faked it. I would sit there and count back the decimals of Pi in my head. Sensei… Splinter always seemed to know, though.” His father’s name comes out a bit choked and April notices how rapidly he’s blinking. She doesn’t say anything, just scoots closer to put a hand on his shoulder. Her touch seems to bring him back from wherever his mind wandered, because Donatello soon straightens up and refocuses on his point, brushing away stray bits of hay.

“You just haven’t had a chance to rebuild those barriers, because you can’t turn off that constant radio feed in your head, so to speak.” He touches his temple to illustrate his point. “But if you’re right, if I can somehow help you mute all external input for a while, it could give you time to rebuild, like a system reboot.” He’s choosing his words carefully, growing more technical in his terms the more nervous he gets, but his eyes never waver.

He’s so damn earnest and his words make sense, but April won’t let herself be convinced.

“But I can’t rely on you like that.” She interjects, shaking her head. He still doesn’t understand. “I can’t expect you to constantly be there just because I’m too weak to control my own mind.” Her fists clench over her knees. She spits out the word ‘weak’ like it’s a curse.

“April,” Donnie’s tone is incredulous, large fingers wrap around her closed fist. “You’re the strongest person I know. You just need time to heal, and I know you can.” His eyes meet hers in silent challenge. “Barely two years ago, you’d never even taken a self-defense class and now you’re nearly a first Dan kunoichi. Do you know just how hard that is to accomplish?”

She does. April remembers the hours of training spent in the dojo with Splinter and the turtles, the sparring sessions where she would get knocked flat on her ass again and again, tears mingling with sweat as she picked herself off the matt for another round, determined to get it right. She remembers the thrill she felt that first time she managed to get a hit on Raph, the way Leo beamed and Mikey cheered her on. Raph still had her face first on the mat soon after, but he’d complained the whole rest of day about the bruise she’d left on his shoulder, shooting her an appreciative smirk. She remembers Donnie’s proud smile the first night she joined them on patrol, how strong and powerful it made her feel…

When did she lose that confidence? How has she become so weak? The darks thoughts cling to her stubbornly, no matter how hard April tries to shake them off. They eat away at her, tainting her every thought.

Donnie gives her hand a gentle squeeze, pulling her back to earth. His eyes burn with conviction. “I’ve known you for almost two years now April,” He tells her, “Long enough to know that when life knocks you down you get back up and keep swinging. Sometimes you just need to know when to stay down for a bit, take the time to get better.”

April’s breathe hitches in her chest, letting the intensity behind Donatello’s words knock into her like a crashing wave, breaking against the dark tendrils gripping at her mind.

“And you are going to get better, just like Leo’s going to get back on his feet.” He insists, stating it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

The sky is blue, the sun will rise, his brother will heal, and so will she.

Every dark corner of April’s mind cries out in protest, trying to drown out Donnie’s words. She’s weak, she’s part-Kraang, it’s her fault, she doesn’t deserve help… They’re so loud and insistent that it’s everything April can do not to slip quietly into the inky black and lose herself.

But there’s Donnie, holding her hand like a lifeline and looking at her like she can do anything, like she’s not weak and wildly out of her depth. He’s never given up on her, even when she’s given up on herself. So, gathering all the strength she can muster, April tries something truly crazy…

She believes him.

Breathe. Inhale. Exhale.[SP4]

She is April O’Neil and she is stronger than this.

The dark thoughts begin to shrivel and decay as April shoves them back into the shadows, letting Donatello’s quiet confidence fuel her own.

Inhale. Exhale.[SP5]

She may not see herself as the same person Donnie sees, but she wants to, and she will.

April is so goddamn done with crying. Her eyes are bloodshot and it feels like she’s cried more in one night than she has in six months. There just aren’t any tears left, so she laughs instead, letting the sound reverberate in her chest and out into the quiet barn. It’s breathless and colored with fatigue, but there’s joy there too.

Don’s still looking at her with poorly masked surprise and worry, but that only makes her laugh harder. Oh god, he must think she’s crazy. Truthfully, April isn’t sure she is completely sane. Completely sane people don’t have to deal with ninja clan feuds, or alien invasions, or have walking talking turtles for best friends.

Well, being sane is overrated anyway…

“So…” She finally says, “I’m going to get better. Is that your professional opinion Doctor Don?”

Sensing that his words must’ve had the intended effect, Donnie’s expression brightens, though mild confusion still lingers. “Actually yeah…I am this family’s resident physician after all,” He brags, then gives a shy smile before adding, “And you’re a part of this family.”

Dammit, apparently there are a few more tears left and they prick at the back of April’s eyes as she engulfs the tall turtle in a tight hug. “I’m sorry, Donnie,” She murmurs.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He replies.

She breaks off the hug to give him a look, eyebrow raised, and gestures a hand towards the destroyed lab that will probably take a few days to clean. He will hold her accountable for that.

“Well…” Donnie amends, looking abashed. “Yeah, okay there’s a little to be sorry for, but it’s okay, no harm done.”

April looks at him skeptically, but chooses not to press the issue. Instead she scooches closer to lean against him, tucking her knees up to her chest.

“It still doesn’t feel right, though.” She admits “My mind using your mind space like some weird signal jammer.”

He leans into her and replies conversationally, “I can think of worse ways to be used.”

It takes a minute for Donnie’s brain to process his words, but when it finally hits him the look on his face is priceless. April’s decided pink on green is her new favorite color combination.

“Ah…Sorry that was…That came out wrong…I…” He stammers quickly, “It’s just, given my interests and my skillset I tend to fill a lot of roles in our family: doctor, weapons expert, maintenance-”

“You shouldn’t be used at all.” April grumbles, bumping his shoulder reproachfully. “You’re a person Donnie, not an appliance.”

He bumps her back with a small laugh, “Well, if you really felt so strongly, I‘m sure I could make something that could tune in to the electromagnetic frequency of your brain waves and bounce them back in a constant feedback loop. It would limit your ability to pick up on external pulses.” He mimes covering his non-existent ears. “Like noise cancelling headphones, but for the mind.”

It sounds like the perfect solution, but she hesitates. She’s gotten so used to feeling Donnie’s presence lingering in her mind, a quiet, reassuring comfort.

What would it feel like to actually be alone in her head?

“I mean, maybe if you have time.” She hinges carefully, playing with a strand of loose hair. “But you don’t really have to go to the trouble…”

“Ah I see…” He nods cryptically, shooting her a knowing smile.

Now it’s April’s turn to blush. “What! What‘s that supposed to mean?”

Donnie just smirks at her ire and shrugs “Well, I guess that you actually like hanging out with me for one, at least more than wearing a tin-foil hat anyway.” He says, adding, “I dare say, it’s like we’re friends, or something.” It’s meant to be a joke, she can see the guarded hope in his eyes.

“Yeah,” She agrees, returning the smile, “Or something…”

They hold on each other’s eyes a little too long before Donnie clears his throat.

“You’re not using me April. You never could. And, believe it, or not,” He nudges her gently “I like having you around too.”

Warmth rises in her chest, buoyed by her own relief at his words.

April supposes it the mark of a great friend when you can sit with a person in silence and still feel comfortable. April leans back, feeling Donnie’s cool reptilian skin against hers and breathes a quiet sigh.

There is something they haven’t talked about though, and it hangs ominous and palpable in the stillness. She’s sure he would prefer to let it lie, pretend it never happened, but April knows she won’t be able to face herself if she takes the coward’s way out again.

She bites her lip, gathering her courage. “Donnie… What I said before, about knowing how you felt. I-”

But Donnie cuts in before she can finish. “Look, April,” he sighs, trying to choose his words carefully, nervous hands picking at the fraying tails of his mask. “Life is crazy right now. Our home is a mutated no-man’s land, the seven of us are facing an army of advanced aliens, your dad’s MIA, and Splinter…Splinter’s gone.”

He swallows the lump in his throat before turning to look at her, eyes honest and open, “But you’re my best friend April, and I’m not going anywhere.”

His voice is steady and for a moment all the anxiety is gone and April can see the Donatello that caught her years ago, gaze fixed and resolute, never considering failure an option. Whether she believes him isn’t even a question. Donnie is as constant as the stars in the sky, maybe the one constant left in her life.

“Literally,” He adds, attempting to ease the intense emotions passing between them, nervous smile back in place with a self-deprecating laugh. “Casey has the keys to the van and I would probably die out there in the wilderness without a decent Wi-Fi connection.”

It’s not all that funny, but she can’t help but snicker appreciatively, giving her friend a watery smile.

“Seriously though,” He looks at her like he’s trying to convey so much more than he knows how to say. “I’m always going to be there for you, April, and nothing is going to change that. You’re stuck with me.” He holds her gaze, unwavering.

An unspoken acknowledgement passes between them, a quiet promise; it’s okay. They’re okay.

The crushing weight of her indecision lifts and April takes a deep breath for what feels like the first time in months.

It’s not the way things were, she and Donnie can never go back to that time, they’ve been through too much, know each other too well. But April finds she doesn’t want to go back, not when she has the time to explore who they are now, what they could become. And Donnie will be there waiting for her.

She sniffs and wipes her eye on the sleeve of Dad’s jacket. “Well, thank god for that!” She says, “Because when we save the world and send the Kraang back through that interdimensional hole they crawled out of, I’m going to be so far behind on my chemistry grades!” She laughs and elbows his side. “I’ll need my resident genius to help me get through to graduation.”

Because the world isn’t over and New York isn’t lost. Not if she has anything to say about it. They will defeat the Kraang, she’ll get Dad back, they’ll find Splinter, and life will go on like it always does.

They have time.

Relief crosses Donnie’s expression and his shoulders relax as he smiles. Playing along, said genius waves off the flattery and gives her a knowing look. “Please, you grasp the theory and concepts masterfully. You just need someone to double check your conclusions.”

“Well…” She concedes, faking a concentrated expression like she’s thinking hard. “I’ll also need someone to help me keep Casey from flunking out of Trig.”

Donnie lets out a disbelieving snort, “He was ever passing?”

“Be nice!” But he just laughs harder as she punches his arm. April tries hard not to smirk. “He’s smarter than you give him credit for.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles, rubbing his arm where she punched him and grinning. “I guess Jones does have his moments.”

A comfortable silence settles between them as Donnie finally quiets his laughter. But he’s still grinning so that April can see the adorable gap in his teeth, and the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. God she missed this, missed him.

“Hey, Donnie?”

“Hmm?” He tilts his head to look back at her.

She lays her hand over his own, quietly savoring his look of surprise and the blush that suddenly rises in his cheeks.

“Thanks,”

“My-” His voice squeaks at the first attempt to, but he quickly recovers, clearing his throat and giving her a warm smile. “My pleasure, April.”

Her eyes wander to the streak of red beneath his eye. “We should probably take care of that.” She tells him, gesturing to his cheek. Her fingers ghost along his scaled skin before she comes to her senses and pulls her hand back sheepishly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It could get infected.”

It’s probably a pointless thing to focus on, considering all the other open nicks and cuts speckled across his forearms from the glass, but it’s something she can fix.

“Oh right” He absently touches the side of his face where her hand had lingered too long. “There’s a first aid kit under the workbench, there should be some disinfectant and butterfly strips in there. Stitches probably won’t be necessary.”

“Roger that” And before Donnie can protest, April forces her aching limbs upright. She sways as the blood rushes to her head and the room spins, but she takes a breath and steadies herself determined to keep standing. Crossing the room and reaching under the workbench, her hand closes around the small, battered first aid kit. Pulling out a few bandages and disinfectant wipes, April starts as she hears Donnie behind her. How he managed to cross a floor littered with broken glass without making a sound is beyond her. Definitely a ninja thing.

“Hey! The coffee’s still intact.” He beams, pointing out the half-finished mug of coffee that’s sitting innocently on the workbench next to his laptop. He picks it up, checking over the ceramic for cracks before taking a sip, grimacing at the cold taste, considering it again, and quickly downing the rest of it.

He looks up at April’s laugh. “What?” Donnie shoots her a mock glare, setting the mug back down. “Couldn’t just let it go to waste.”

April shoots him a look that’s supposed to be stern but she can’t keep her lips from curling into a smirk. “Donnie, I think you have a problem.”

He just grins and shrugs “Everyone’s allowed one vice.”

She hums knowingly in reply, “Hold still.” Tucking a hand under his cheek, April reaches up and dabs a disinfectant wipe over the gash below his eye. She tries to ignore the way his breath hitches and how warm his face suddenly feels.

“So…what are we going to tell the others?” She asks, trying to keep her tone nonchalant as she unwraps one of the butterfly strips.

Even if the rest of the guys somehow don’t notice that the barn looks like a twister hit it, Mikey’s sure to see that Donnie looks like he got in a fight with his lab equipment. Mikey always notices these things. She peels off the strip’s adhesive nervously.

So far, April has been trying to keep the struggles with her powers quiet. Leo just woke up from a freaking coma, he has more important things to worry about than a possible liability on his team.

Not for long though.

April closes her eyes and takes a quiet breath, expelling the dark thoughts before they can take root. She’s stronger than this. She just needs time to heal, and a little help.

“Hmm…” Donatello turns to survey the state of the barn, with its scorched walls, stray shards of metal and broken glass. It’s definitely seen better days. “Think they’d believe Mikey’s chickens went on a mad rampage?”

April lets out a soft huff of laughter, turning Donnie’s head back to face her so she can place the bandages properly. “Yeah…Maybe not.”

“Worth a shot,” He jokes. Then his eyes dart to the twisted heap metal in the corner that used to be his jerry-rigged backup generator. Well, at least it wasn’t smoldering anymore.

“That generator was pretty rickety…” He admits thoughtfully, absently touching his newly bandaged cheek. “I may be good with machines, but that tractor engine was from at least 1923 and I’m not a miracle worker. Probably wouldn’t be too hard to convince them it blew up on its’ own.”

April gives him a relieved smile. The nerves uncoil in her chest and it’s a little easier to breath. “Thanks. I guess I just don’t want them to think I’m losing it, or something.” She says, trying to play it off as a joke.

Donnie frowns, but doesn’t address it. He just shrugs, “We’ve all been going through some pretty serious stress lately. Everyone just expresses it differently.” He smirks conspiratorially and leans forward to add, “There’s a reason Raph asked Casey to pick up some thread the last time you guys went to the store.”

“Wait, Raph asked for that?” She smirks and raises an eyebrow, playing along. “Casey said it was for Mikey…?”

Donnie sniggers before answering. “Well I’m not really supposed to know, but Raph found this old needlepoint kit in the attic a few weeks back. He’s been teaching himself ever since.”

April can’t help it. The mental image of Raph “fuck you and your prissy shit” Hamato threading a tiny needle and teaching himself to cross stitch is too much and she burst out laughing. “Oh god!” She cackles “Does this mean Casey’s getting an embroidered pillowcase for Christmas?”

“Only if he can figure out how to stitch dirty words into it!” Donnie replies, then adds in a more serious tone “Please don’t say anything to him. I like my face arranged the way it is, thank you very much. Besides,” He smiles fondly, “It really has been helping Raph deal with everything.”

April nods, still giggling, and mimes a zipper across her mouth, “My lips are sealed.”

“Thanks,” Donnie carefully maneuvers around the remains of the shattered beakers to grab a broom leaning against the wall. He starts sweeping the stray shards of glass and metal into small piles, trying not to step in any of the spilled contents.

“Seriously though, I could make them for you, those thought-canceling headphones, I mean. If only to help you sleep, or meditate. It’s no trouble.” He offers, stepping around the spilled contents of what April assumes was another attempt at retromutagen. She’s relieved to see the jar where Donnie put remains of The Creep is still intact on a nearby shelf. April shudders to think what would’ve happened if the horrific plant-mutant had gotten loose again.

“And I promise it would be slightly more stylish than your average tin-foil hat.” He adds with a grin.

April rolls her eyes and returns the smile. She goes to pick up a dustpan and brush hanging on the wall by the workbench and starts sweeping up the piles of debris. “Donnie, you could make it out of forks and the kitchen strainer and I’d still wear it if it helps me get some sleep.”

He laughs and turns to reply, but his smile twists into a concerned frown when he looks at her, taking in the dark circles under her eyes, the way her skin looks more gray than pale, how she sways on the spot while bending over to sweep up some glass.

“Hey, why don’t you lie down for a bit, I can handle this.” He tells her gently, nodding in the direction of the hay bales. “It’s not the first time I’ve cleaned up broken beakers and you look dead on your feet.”

But April just glares and stubbornly crosses her arms in protest. “No way! This place looks like a tornado hit it, or something. I can’t just-”

“Ah ah ah! Doctor’s order’s Miss O’Neil!” He says, having the nerve to pull rank. And before she can protest he’s walked over and plucked the dustpan and brush out of her hands. “The last thing I need is you passing out on the broken glass.” It’s obnoxious and a little patronizing and coming from anyone else but Donnie, April would’ve been offended. But the honest concern in his eyes and the fact that every muscle in her body feels like its threatening mutiny effectively kills whatever argument she has.

“Fine,” She capitulates. Reluctantly walking back over to the hay bales April sits back down and bites back an audible groan of satisfaction as her sore body eases into a more horizontal position. “But only for a few minutes. Then you can wake me up.”

“Mmmh hmmm,” Donnie hums airily, purposely avoiding her gaze as he grabs some rags off the workbench to clean up the chemical spills.

She knows he’s not going to, the stubborn know-it-all, but she’s too exhausted to care.

Shrugging off Dad’s jacket and bunching it into a more comfortable pillow, April snuggles into it, breathing in the familiar smell. It’s not the best thing she’s ever slept on, but it’s hardly the worst. And at least the hay is clean and dry. Her overtaxed brain is too foggy to care how scratchy it feels beneath her thin tee-shirt. The constant swish of Donnie’s broom scraping against the wooden floorboards creates a soothing rhythm.

She stares up into the rafters, the hanging propane lamps blurring into hazy balls of light. April thinks of the nights she spent with Mom and Dad, catching fireflies out in the woods. Maybe she could do it again sometime. Mikey would love it. He and Casey would probably make a competition out of who could catch the most…

Just as she feels herself drifting off she hears Donnie’s voice at the edge of her consciousness.

“You know, I’m actually glad you came here tonight and trashed my lab,” He says candidly, the soft scrapes of the broom quieting.

Well, it’s not every day a girl hears that. It’s such an odd statement it catches her half-asleep brain off-guard. “Oh? Why’s that?” She yawns, lifting her heavy lids to look at him curiously, wondering if he’s trying to lead into a joke.

But he just smiles back at her with a quiet fondness, leaning on the broom and responding in all honesty, “Because I missed you.”

He doesn’t need to say anything else. The four words seem to encompass all the months of unspoken strain that’d formed between them, a growing chasm fueled by his self-doubts and her fears. How they both had let it get this far mystifies her, but April makes a silent vow never to let it happen again. She needs Donatello and he needs her, the rest of the world will just have to deal.

“Missed you too Donnie.” She murmurs back.

Out of the corner of her eye she watches the color deepen in his cheeks, his soft smile widening as he turns back to his task. The gentle swish, swish, swish of the broom resumes once more and April lets it lull her back into that gray state of almost-sleep.

The warmth nestled in her chest burns like a tended fire. Her eyes droop and her breaths slow.

She can’t remember the last time she’s felt contented enough to fall asleep, not since the invasion at least. Usually she just lays on her bed and tries and fails to meditate before collapsing from exhaustion and mental strain. Occasionally she’ll jolt awake from a nightmare, her fear addled mind unable to tell if it was hers or one of the guys’, not that it matters. Nightmares suck indiscriminately, no matter whose brain made it.

But as she lies there on the hay bales, the soft leather of Dad’s jacket pressed against her cheek, April revels in the peaceful stillness of her mind, feeling more secure than she has in weeks. Her thoughts reach out to brush the presence beside her, just as warm and contented, separate from her own, but no less welcome. Donatello’s thoughts and her own curl around each other, purple and gold, mingling in a familiar dance that only they know. Soon, April can’t tell which love is hers and which is his, but finds that she doesn’t really care.

And, for the first time since they’d come to the farmhouse, since she lost her home and her father, April slips into a peaceful, dreamless sleep, wrapped securely in the reassuring embrace of her best friend.

If you’ve gotten this far then thank you so much for reading my fic! I’m super nervous about it so please feel free to leave a comment. I just hope I did these two characters and their relationship justice. Apriltello is important to me and I’d love to write more for it in the future.

That said, hope everyone has a happy Valentine’s Day! <3

#apritello day 2017 #my fanfiction #tmnt fanfiction #apriltello #april o'neil #donatello hamato #takes place during the farmhouse arc #post-buried secrets #because I am eternally bitter about how April's character was handled in this arc #we learned so many things about her but we never actually got to see how SHE felt about it #also I wanted to explore how her psychic abilities affect her and her mental state #because she can't turn them off #and that must SUCK #April O Neil is such a strong character and this show does not deserve her #tmnt 2012

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