New York was coated in the murky grey ashes from the fiery remains of craters. Demising moonlight reflected weakly off the encrusted shards hammered into the roads by the feet of rioters. The foul odour of alcohol and smoke filled lungs all around. However, despite the gloomy atmosphere, drunken singing and happy cries echoed across the streets broken only by the occasion gunshot in an alleyway. The depression was being lifted, and people were discovering a new hope for their future. Freedom. The word many had never known the meaning off was finally being tasted, and it was delicious.

Not everyone was joining in with the celebrations. A solitude figure stood by the rigged wired fencing that once protected the beautiful landscape of the Central Park. She watched her followers getting high on their joy, a feeble smile upon her weather beaten face that did not reach her eyes. It had barely been a week since his end. Much had happened in that short amount of time; Prisoners freed, labour camps destroyed, streets back in their control. Even his supporters were slowly dispersing and still there was plenty left to do. So much to rejoice about. And, at the same time, nothing.

For his downfall had come at a valuable price.

With a deep inhale of the polluted air, she took to a walk. She could not think here for while the Shredder may not be around, his supporters still were. The Foot ninjas were determined to maintain a hold but it was breaking and fast. The symbol was already made a mockery off with crudely drawn parts added to it, no doubt done by the youths, and the flickering images of the Shredder from the broken screens were hardly as threatening anymore. These were only the beginning of the signs of what had happened but it did not ease the pain settled within her heart nor the cloudy haze in her mind from unanswered questions.

The biggest was 'why'. But it was one question that she knew she may never get an answer for.

She paused.

Her wandering feet had absent-mindedly taken her to the crumbled ruins of what was the turtles lair. She had not been here in decades... The feeble smile on her face grew slightly as the faint reminder of laughter tickled her inside. How ironic that she came here of all places in the moment of great need. Yes... maybe, just maybe, she would seek her answers from the place where it all began. Yet when she placed a foot upon the rumble, the uneasiness returned to her. Was it too soon? Their loss still weighed heavily on her and she could barely get through the discussion of their burial arrangements without the tears flooding her face.

As the mental battle raged on, a sound was heard from behind her. Instinctively, she turned with her hand upon the grenades she kept upon her. What she saw made her hand drop and the laugh finally set free.

A small orange kitten stared up at her with its large orb eyes, its tail flickering pleasantly behind it. If that wasn't a sign of something then she didn't know what would be. She knelt down and stretched out her hand, tempting it to come closer. The cat tilted its head before it gingerly walked towards her. Its nose stiffed at her hand in interest. She raised her hand, slowly making move to stroke its head but the cat suddenly retreated then darted into the lair.

April slowly raised to her feet and watched it till it ran from sight. Without another second of hesitation, she made after it.

It is strange... Strange how the broken appearence could still bring back such fond memories. For a moment she felt like the young naive woman she had once been. Her hand automatically clenched over her chest as her eyes surveyed the remains of the lair; a few busted televisions laid crumbled against a wall, an old punching bag was gutted upon the floor, the sofa completely moth eaten and stained with red, and blackened marks from lasers. In all this horror, the feeling of home still lingered on. She wondered if any of the turtles had ever returned to it...

Her gaze transferred from the ruins to the rooms that the turtles slept.

She had never been inside them before out of respect for their privacy. But maybe... maybe just having their things around her may help.

Her aging body was no barrier to her swift movements upwards. The first room she came across was easily Leonardo's. It clearly was kept neat in the past but now it was a dust coated and crumbled. The bed had been smashed, kanji paintings torn from the walls and further cuts engraved into the wooden furniture. Her experiences in the matter told her that this was not done from the course of a battle... but more out of blind fury. Someone had, many years ago, entered into this room and tore it apart. It angered her that Leo's memory was tarnished in such a way but little could be done by now.

With a soft sigh she headed over towards the next room. It took her a moment to realise whose room this was. Yet the grease stains told her who. Raphael. This was in better condition than Leo's but the dust made her coughed when she entered it. If it wasn't for that then it would be like walking into a portal to the past. Even weight lifting equipment was collected in the far corner. The hammock still held a few remains of magazines. Those she decided not to look at knowing how similiar Raphael and Casey were.

Ouch.

She quickly left the room after that thought. Nothing was being felt except bitter regret and hurt. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. Her hand brushed away the few tears forming in her eyes. No, it didn't feel right to not go on from here. So with great mental pressure, she pressed onto into the next. Ah yes, this had to be Michelangelo's. The comics spawn out across the floor was a big giveaway. There was even one upon the bed that looked as though it was halfway through being read. April's feet brushed against the empty wrappers as she walked inside. Not even the dust could cover the brightly colour posters added to every inch of the wall.

Her trained eyes then spotted an item that was not coated in dust. In unnerved her slightly for it meant that someone had been here, and fairly recently. Another moment of hesitation. It was a diary, even more private than a personal room...

It was one of the little items in the lair that was left undamaged she noticed as she turned it over in her hand. Someone had taken great lengths to preserve what little piece of the past they had. Another half hearted laugh. It was clear from the cover to whom this belonged to. Carefully drawn pictures had been decorated upon it with a vast amount of stickers. Turtles mostly. He was such a child... a perfectly annoying yet loveable child.

Desperate to feel them near, she dared to open it.

Hi Botty! I'm the great Michelangelo! Ninja turtle, Turtle Titan, Battle Nexus Champion! See! Not just a pretty face!

There he was - The young Mikey. His rough handwriting clearly printed out upon the paper. She could even hear his childish voice inside her mind as she read. It was almost as though he was standing behind her, peering over her shoulder and reading aloud from a book she was trying to read.

I was going to sketch in here but Master Splinter (he's our rat father and sensei) said it was for recording down thoughts cause I get easily distracted– or something like that. I kinda stopped listening. Raph reckons it's going to be empty but that's Raph. He's always saying stuff like that, he's probably jealous of my unique way of thinking - that's what Donnie calls it.

Brothers. That's how they were. But in the later half of life they came to forgot that right to the moment of death. It was almost heart-breaking to know that at the time this was written the turtles had no idea what was in store for them. What if they did know...? Would all this have been prevented? That was one of the many 'what if' questions she had along with the 'why'.

He's the smart one but half the time it's hard to know what he's saying. Leo is my oldest bro and it was his idea to name you Botteshelly or something like that... He thought it would be clever to name you after an artist like the rest of us.

Mmmm I fancy spagetty now (is that how you spell it?).

Bon Appetite! (I asked Don to spell that one!)

Smudged strains that could have only been sauce told that Mikey had got his 'spagetty'. The smile was there again, becoming more real with each of his words that she read.

Bonjour Bots!

Apparently it's not respectful to cover your brother in clingfilm when crashed out on the sofa. Luckily, Leo came to my rescue by giving the usual Splinter Jr speech before Raph could mop the ground with me. I'm now grounded, but it's Raph fault for not going to bed! Besides, I did provide him with air holes.

How could she not laugh at that? She remembered that day so clearly. Raph had stalked off with Casey that night and didn't come back until after sunrise. Casey had taken the same action as Raph and crashed down upon her sofa. Only April had placed a blanket over him instead of clingfilm...

April fell back onto Mikey's bed and snuggled against the pillow with the diary propped up against her legs. With each page came a new entry to tickle April's younger side, fresh memories to bathe in, and warm feelings that spread right down to her knees. Getting comfortable, she read on.