There was a time in April O'Neil's life when she had stumbled upon a book that she honestly could care less about. She was in the eighth grade when she had browsed through her English teacher's bookshelf for something to read after finishing a test before her other classmates did.

The book was small and no more than two hundred pages. The spine was cracked from being horribly handled over the years and the cover was just a plain reddish brown with the title: "Elsewhere."

The vagueness of the book had tickled April's curiosity, so she sat down and read it for the remaining period. By the time class was over, April had finished the book. She never hated a book more than what she had just read.

It had been about a woman who's lover had been drafted into a war and had gone away over seas. The story followed her trials and errors as she waited for her love to return, not knowing if he was alive or not by the end of each day. He wrote rarely due to the lack of time, and he'd always tell her he didn't know when he'd be home.

It wasn't that it had been poorly written, but April couldn't understand what it felt like to live not knowing if the one you love would come home safe and sound or not each day. Then again, it was hard for her to imagine because everyone she loved tended to stay in the same spot for most of their lives. Having to wait like that...that was B.S. How could anyone live like that? In the end, he didn't even survive. April felt like it had been a waste of time to read.

But now that April was older...now that April was in love, she suppose she could understand. She turned to the sleeping figure of Donatello beside her and looked over his features in the morning light.

Donatello's face looked peaceful. It was relaxed and his mouth was slightly open, his gap visible in the morning light. They both had reached their late teens and had moved in with one another in the past year. In the end, it was the best choice she had ever made. Falling for her best friend, that is. Sure it was weird to think that her boyfriend was a mutant turtle, but she could see past that. He was human. Maybe not as human as she was, but he was close enough.

It was funny how times like those could make her think about random moments in her past. April brought her hand to Donatello's face and lightly stroked his temple. She still hated that book. But now that she was in love...she could begin to understand how the woman had felt.

The Shredder had been taken down, but the Kraang continued to be a threat. The creatures still lurked around New York City, and even though they had taken down not one but two different portals, the Kraang refused to back down.

Donatello and his brothers patrolled nightly. As the years progressed, so did the Kraang's work. It was as though none of them got a break. She wished the Kraang would just up and leave so they could all find peace, but she knew that wouldn't happen. At least, not for a while.

It killed April when she had him all to herself and then he had to leave to help his brothers with the Kraang. He'd give her his big, gap toothed smile, pull her pinky into his and lightly tug at it as he made his promise to come back. Watching him climb through the window of their apartment and disappear into the night made April want to jump after him, but she had a life. Her dad was safe for the time being and it was no longer her fight.

April imagined this was how the woman felt in the book. Lost, confused, scared...she never understood the novel until right then. She didn't know where Donnie was or if he'd come back. Sure he'd keep in contact, but for the most part she wouldn't know if he'd be alive by the end of the night.

April had once pitied the girl in the book, but now she felt silly for doing so. She was that woman now. The woman who had to wait for her lover to return in a war that she couldn't help him fight. She hated the book and her mind for remembering it. It was as though the novel mocked her for hating it, mocking her knowing that she was now in the same position as the woman she once thought was stupid for living the life she lived.

She imagined herself as the character and it brought tears to her eyes. Donatello knew he could die, but he pretended as though he lived forever. And each morning, April would wake up and turn to face his side of the bed in hope that she'd see his peaceful face asleep beside her. It was a habit, a reminder that he was still there for her. Still alive. But April dreaded the possibility that she would turn around one morning and he wouldn't be there. That she'd be alone, wondering where he was.

April closed her eyes. For now, he was alive and well and that was all she could ever ask for. She wasn't religious, but she prayed every night that he'd come home and that she wouldn't have to ever live like the woman in the novel she read so long ago. That she never had to welcome her mornings to an empty bed knowing he'd never come back. April snuggled closer to Donatello, feeling the warmth of his life against her flesh and she prayed that there would be a tomorrow, and a tomorrow after that.