A/N When a April needs help Donatello follows his heart straight to her apartment.
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April? Sick? Donatello dropped his soldering gun and tuned in to Sensei's phone conversation.
"No, Mr. Jones isn't here. I'm sorry you're not feeling well, April. Is there anything we can do?"
"What's wrong, Sensei?"
Master covered the phone. "It is just a cold, she's fine."
Nothing was fine about an unwell, seven-month pregnant hogosha with no one to care for her. April's life was blighted forever-more by loser alcoholic extraordinaire, Casey Jones.
Donnie had to step up. "Tell her, I'm coming over."
"Drink lots of fluids, we'll talk soon." Master hung up. "I don't want you going over there, Donatello."
"What? Why? April needs help!" And, that hockey puck was useless.
"April is an adult who has a mate to look after her. She doesn't want your help. Stay down here where you belong, and let them sort out their problems."
Donatello slid into his chair, his voice a thin sheet of ice. "Hai, Master."
The countdown to Sensei's bedtime had begun.
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April waddled back and forth in front of her living room window with a thermometer in her mouth. After checking her temperature, she looked out at the street. The frizzy haired redhead rubbed her heavy belly with a pained look on her face.
Donatello stowed a pathetic thermos of get-well-soon-tea, he couldn't go over there, Master was right; Donatello had to accept life below the surface.
"Don, that you?" A slurred voice asked. Casey Jones had made it home and the smile on his mug said he did not care one bit who waited for him. He was a happy drunk. "So good to see you, how long has it been, bro? The shower?"
"Long time, yeah."
Casey wobbled on his feet and grinned. "You prolly wondering what the hell I'm doing up here, huh?
The knot in Don's belly tightened. "No, its fine."
Draping arm over the turtle's shoulder and pointing across the street, the cretin said, "There's a black chick on eight that puts on a show every now an' again, fuckin' hot as hell, but, looks like the lights are out."
"That's really not cool." Donatello wanted to punch Casey Jones' disrespectful lights out.
The stupid moron lied like an idiot, too. "Nah, I'm just kidding. Hey! Why don't you come in for a drink; looks like Ape's up."
Don hated that term of endearment, too; it reeked worse than Casey's distillery breath. A cloud of electric energy swarmed around the ninja's fist. "I don't think she's feeling well."
"Oh, wait. Is that why you're here? Gonna check on my baby mama?"
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"Donnie! Hi!" April smiled through her sniffles and gave him a reason to live. Then, she saw the body. "Oh, shit!"
Donnie pulled a comatose Casey inside the apartment. "I think he'll be okay, his breathing's steady."
April withered. "What happened?"
"I don't know. I'm sorry." All lies.
"Don't be sorry! Where'd you find him?"
"On top of the building across the street."
"What?" April's face paled then reddened. "That's. That's weird." She said it like she was familiar with the chick-on-eight's antics. "I guess put him in the tub, he shit the bed last week."
Donatello stuck the louse in the tub. April sat on the side of the tub and caressed her boyfriend's forehead.
"I brought some tea for you." Don straightened.
"Really? Oh, my gosh, that's so sweet."
Don was just getting started. "Why don't you get in bed, and I'll bring you some? Then, I can watch over Casey, if you're worried about him."
"Oh, you don't have to do all that."
"I'm not leaving you." Donatello helped the shocked, fair maiden with child up to stand. They hugged for a long time, until he pressed her fingers to his lips. "I'll always be here for you, April. You, and the baby."
April's eyes filled with liquid heartache as she melted into his plastron once more. Maybe this time she wouldn't let go. "Thank you, Donatello."
A groggy, troll voice murmured. "Fuq you, Donatello." Casey was even less charming when he was fast sleep.
Donnie rubbed the back of his neck.
April grinned before retiring to the bedroom to wait for her tea. "He means thank you."