Author's Notes: As promised, chapter one of the sequel to "Click." This takes place after the short companion piece "The Best Laid Plans." I would recommend reading that before the sequel as it will be referenced often. It is rated M for a reason, so if that is not your cup of tea you can use your imagination to fill in the blanks :0)

Also, perhaps of interest to some I have published a few writing prompt drabbles on my tumblr. They take place in the same AU as "Click," but do not have a direct impact on the story. If anyone wants to drop me a new writing prompt on tumblr feel free I'll do my best to answer them.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

It shouldn't take me this long. This is embarrassing and frustrating and more than a little maddening. The soldering iron keeps slipping, my thumb refusing to hold it in place against my finger. The scars on the offending digit resist any intricate movement and the more I try to press down the sharper the pain. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Getting frustrated won't solve anything. It'll just put me in a worse mood. Rome wasn't built in a day and injuries don't heal overnight. I'm going to get better. My hand will get better.

You have to be patient, that's all.

The soldering iron slides in my clumsy grip and the end burns a path across the top of my left hand. I throw it to the ground with a series of curses that would make Raphael proud and instinctively put the burn in my mouth. The unfinished motherboard stares up at me taunting with its bare spaces and useless connections. I heave it against the kitchen wall where it explodes into tiny pieces that clatter and dive across the counter top.

Nice. Very patient. Master Splinter would be proud.

"Having trouble?" Leo asks from the doorway and my anger quickly fades to shame.

"Burnt myself," I grumble with my hand still in my mouth.

"Run it under cold water," he suggests as he opens the fridge and peers inside.

The water stings at first, but soon fades into a quiet numbing sensation. Leonardo is watching me, even though he's pretending not to. I turn off the water and shake out my hand.

"It's not bad," I say, turning to clean up my mess.

I'm not surprised when he takes hold of my hand to see for himself. I'm not surprised but it riles me to anger just the same.

"It's fine," I say slowly, pulling my hand out of his grasp.

"Uh huh," he murmurs, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly at the corners. "Put something on it so it doesn't get infected," he adds.

"Yeah," I say with a nod, agreeing with him in hopes that it'll end his henpecking.

He turns back to the fridge, taking out some left over pizza from the night before. "What were you working on?"

"Computer part," I reply, getting the distinct impression he's asking out of the need to fill the silence and not a real desire to hear about my latest project. "I need to upgrade."

He nods and takes a bite of food before snagging a plate. "What for?"

I pause for only a second. I'm sure he notices. There isn't much Leo doesn't notice. "Didn't think I needed a reason," I say with a shrug, dropping the broken pieces into the trash.

He chews slowly, mulling over my answer with a suspicious look I've seen hundreds of times on our father's face. How a turtle could mimic the facial expressions of a rat so completely was always a mystery to me. He's brewing up a lecture. I can see it forming behind his blue eyes. I'm sure he thinks I'm up to something. He isn't entirely wrong, but that doesn't mean I want to discuss it. If I needed his help I would ask for it.

"Leo! Get your ass in here!"

We both jump at the sudden shout, turning in unison towards the sound of Raph's voice. Leo forgets his lecture and pushes his food aside. I follow him out of the kitchen. I'm slowly getting better, but he's fast and when I reach the main room he has already joined Raphael in front of the television. They're both sitting uncomfortably close to the screen and Raph's jaw is clenched so tight I wonder how he isn't shattering his teeth.

I can't see the screen yet. I don't need to. I can hear the voice crackling out of the old speakers just fine. It's cold and unfeeling and I know it has the eyes to match. I haven't heard that voice in weeks, not while I've been awake anyway. At night however, on those rare evenings I manage to get enough sleep; that voice has been there waiting for me in the dark.

She's going to find you. She's going to find all of you. Did you really think she would just let this go?

I move to sit next to Raphael. His eyes flicker over to me and I stop him when he reaches for the off switch on the front of the television. He doesn't need to protect me from this. I keep hold of his hand in case he tries again and stare straight ahead at the screen. She's standing in front of a shiny, yellow ribbon with a pair of those over-sized novelty scissors clutched in her hands. It seems ridiculous and unnatural for someone so obviously bad and wrong to be holding and doing something so mundane and cliché. She leans towards the microphone and her voice turns my insides to ice.

She's not even here. Get a grip.

"On behalf of the entire Corporation I am pleased to announce the opening of our new manufacturing center in the heart of the Lower East Side. Despite the recent attacks and actions of a few cowardly and vicious individuals we are prepared and ready to continue my family's proud history of not only impeccable business practice, but also a strong involvement in community development," she says, moving away from the microphone on heels that click along the pavement.

The group of suit-wearing men standing behind her part like the Red Sea when she approaches, scissors in hand. She cuts through the ribbon and all those gathered clap politely. The picture cuts back to the news anchor, blathering on about the philanthropic pursuits of the Corporation before cutting back to footage of the fire a few months ago. I feel a slight twinge of pride at the sight of the warehouse burning, but it doesn't last in the face of my unrelenting worry. Most things don't.

"Seems stupid to broadcast her new address," Raphael growls once the news story is over and the peppy meteorologist comes on screen with his frowny-faced snow clouds and predictions of a cold snap.

"Don't get any ideas," Leo says quietly and his pointed look is directed at both of us. "This doesn't mean anything…"

"It means they're back up and running, Leo," Raphael snaps. He climbs to his feet to pace the length of the couch. "It means we have to hit them again before they're at full strength," he looks down at me with a snort of air through his nose. "You think you can get through their security system again?"

"Enough," Leo says and he's on his feet before I can even nod in response. "I'll speak with Master Splinter. That's as far as this needs to go right now. We don't know if they're up to anything."

"Of course they are! She's evil, Leo! She…"

"I said enough!"

Raph takes a tiny step back at our eldest brother's tone. It's sharp and pointed and most assuredly finite. His eyes are narrowed at the corners and I see his gaze flicker towards me for less than a second before finding Raphael's glare. When he says 'enough,' he means it is enough in front of me. My face grows warm and I climb to my feet. I don't sway and there's a minimal amount of pain for which I am grateful. If he doesn't want to include me in their plans, that's just fine. I have work to do. I have my own plan.

"Where are you going?" Leo asks and I bristle at his accusing voice.

"To my room," I reply. "Is that all right with you?" I add. It's childish and petty and completely unnecessary but I'm feeling particularly irritable today and seeing Amelia has only heightened my bad mood.

Leo frowns and Raph's eyes open into near perfect circles as he waits to see how our growing argument might pan out.

"I was only asking…"

"Yeah, you're always asking," I mutter, turning my back on him. "Let me know what Master Splinter says. If I'm allowed to hear that is."

He takes hold of my arm and I resist the urge to pull away. "Donatello," he says, his grip tightening, probably afraid I'm going to flee. "This isn't…we have to be smart about this. If we have to attack we're going to plan, we're going to make sure it's the last time. We can't afford to fail," he says in his best stern leader voice. "We're going to work this together," he adds with a withering look in Raphael's direction. "I'll discuss it with Sensei first. Do you two understand?"

He's right, you know. What did you plan to do exactly? Go after them yourself, genius?

I pull free of his grip, but it is half-hearted and my anger and worry are trumped by the shame over acting like a pouty child.

"Do you understand?" Leo asks again, slower this time when neither of us respond.

"Yes," Raphael and I grumble in unison.

"Good. Put something on that burn," Leo says, jabbing a finger into my upper plastron before making his way to the dojo.

Raphael stomps and grumbles behind me and when I turn around he's shrugging into one of the oversized coats draped on the back of the couch. Panic is lingering on the edge of my thoughts. He's going to do something rash and stupid. He's going to get in trouble.

"Where do you think you're going?" I ask, immediately assuming the worst.

"Out," he mutters, zipping the coat up to his chin.

"But, Leo said…"

"I'm not making some suicide run. I just need to clear my head," he snaps, pulling on a fuzzy wool hat that makes it hard to take his angry tone seriously. "Don't wait up."

He leaps over the turn style without another word and I'm left standing alone with the annoying buzz of the television. I want to go with him. His freedom to come and go as he pleases fills me with a sudden rush of jealousy. I've been trapped down here for weeks. My one brief albeit mind-numbingly wonderful, escape only lasted a night and that was five days ago. I haven't been allowed to leave since and I am getting antsy. Just thinking of that night is enough to send a blaze of warmth throughout my body that settles in places embarrassingly low. Now isn't the time to think about that, there are more important things to consider.

More important than the way her hand felt wrapped around…

I take in a sharp breath and try to focus on the lingering sting of the burn across my hand and not the increasingly graphic memories monopolizing my thoughts. It seems wrong and selfish to feel happy when there's danger and quite possible doom on the horizon. I have work to do. My T-Phone buzzes against my shell and when I see April's name flash across the screen it becomes even more difficult not to picture our last night together. I clear my throat and bring the phone up to my ear.

"Hey April," I say, a smile finding its way to my face.

"Hey Donnie," she replies.

She sounds worried and I instantly feel guilty and worried all over again.

"Are you all right?" I ask, the words coming out in a fast jumble of syllables.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she says quickly. "I just, did you watch the news?" she asks.

Her voice is quiet and worried and I have another reason to hate Amelia for making April sound that way.

"Yes," I reply and I try my best to sound reassuring. "Leo and Master Splinter are working on a plan. Everything will be all right."

She doesn't say anything for a few horribly long seconds and anxiety starts to tighten in my chest. "I'm coming over."

Now there's a new type of anxiety fighting for dominance. I haven't seen her since that night and I have no idea how I'm supposed to act. Talking on the phone is one thing. She can't see me blush or catch me staring at her. If she's standing right in front of me there's nowhere to hide. Am I supposed to talk about what happened? Or should I pretend like nothing has changed between us?

Not for the first time in the past few days I wish I had someone to confide in, someone to give me advice. I suppose I could have gone to Master Splinter, but the mere thought of discussing something so personal and private with my father makes me feel embarrassed and just a little bit sick to my stomach. I can't talk to my brothers. They wouldn't understand and when things most assuredly go bad they would never let me hear the end of it.

Why are you even bothering to worry? She hasn't said a word about what happened. She obviously doesn't want to bring it up. She probably regrets it. How could she not regret it?

I try to ignore the dark thoughts, but they crawl out from the bad place and chase away any of the lingering warmth. "Be careful," I say quietly.

I want to tell her to stay home. If she is going to act like it didn't happen, if she regrets it, I don't think I'll be able to face her. I'll understand, but that won't make it hurt any less. I won't be able to hide my despair. She'll see right through me. I won't be able to hide it. I don't want to make her feel bad. That's the last thing I want. She gave me something I never thought I'd have and I will be forever grateful. If that night was the only time, I'd understand.

You didn't even deserve that, quit being selfish. Did you really think she'd want to do anything else once she realized how different you really are? Freak.

"I always am," she replies and some of the worry is gone from her voice when she adds. "I have a surprise for you."

Wait…what?

I clear my throat and stumble over a response. "Wh-what? What kind of surprise?"

"Well, if I told you it'd ruin it," she says with a quiet laugh that sends the dark thoughts scurrying back to their corners. "I'll be over soon."

I take in a deep breath and slide my phone back into my belt. I need to relax, I need to regain control. Even if those cruel and nagging thoughts are true, even if she doesn't want to be with me in that sense, she can still be my friend. It isn't ideal and it isn't what I want more than anything else, but it would mean I wouldn't lose her and that could be enough. Having her in my life is more important. She's my best friend. She understands. Her friendship is sincere and something I have never doubted, even at my most low. I won't pressure her into anything more. I won't blame her or make her feel guilty if she doesn't want to go any further. I can't risk losing my friend. I need her, maybe more than I ever realized.

We have work to do and we'll do it together. We can figure out anything together.