Author's Notes: This chapter marks the start of the third installment of the Click-verse: Calculated Risk. It takes place a few weeks after the last installment of A Winter Interlude and starts with a Donnie POV. I promise some more angst, fluff, action, and horrible things done to characters I love in the next few chapters ahead. If you've stuck with me for this long let me just say I appreciate it and hope you like what I have in store. :0) Enjoy!

Chapter 1

"All right, man. You got this! One more!" Raph says, his voice near enough to a growl and his fingers hovering mere centimeters away from the bar. "Come on! Don't wimp out on me now!"

A growl of my own builds in my chest, a guttural, almost animalistic sound that ends in a deep cry followed by the clang of the weight bar hitting its mark. My hands slide from the metal bar and hang limp at my sides, brushing my fingertips along the floor. Raph lets out a whoop of encouragement and grabs hold of my wrist to heave me bodily up to sitting. He slaps me across the carapace with a dull thud and I can't help but grin back at the excited gleam in his eyes even though my arms are the consistency of jelly and every muscle in my chest and shoulders cries out from the abuse.

"Not too bad," I murmur, snagging the towel from the end of the bench to wipe the sweat from my brow. "Soon I'll be lifting more than you," I add with a smirk.

"You're doing good, D, but let's be realistic here," he replies with a snort, picking up a dumbbell for a few bicep curls as if to prove his point.

"Can't hurt to have goals," I mumble.

I clench my teeth as I pry open my fingers. An all-too-familiar bolt of pain shoots up towards my elbow and I open and close my hand until it dulls to a stubborn ache. The scars along my wrist and fingers are still tight and my grip nothing less than clumsy. I try not to focus on it, on any of the things I can't change. My hand is never going to have the dexterity it once did. I'd be lying to myself if I said otherwise. I can't change it, but I can change other things. I can lift weights with Raph. I can get my strength back and then some. No one is going to make me feel weak ever again.

You've got a long way to go. Raphael was shot and he can still lift more than you. You need to work harder.

"I think I've got another set in me," I say, draping the towel over my shoulders.

"I'll have to take a raincheck on that," Raph replies, dropping the dumbbell to the floor. "I'm supposed to meet Casey at the rink in an hour."

"For what?" I ask, trying not to sound annoyed and failing miserably.

He slowly tilts his head in my direction. I squirm awkwardly under his stare. He doesn't let up, leaning against the bar and narrowing his eyes with a smug smile that makes me want to punch him.

"What?" I snap, regretting it the instant the smile turns into a predatory grin.

"What's got you wound so tight?" he snickers, the sound of his laughter setting my teeth on edge. "Is this how you're going to be every time April isn't around, 'cause I'm not sure if I can stomach that."

Her name is like a strike to the chest and I recoil, not ready for the assault. I forget my annoyance and anger and roll my shoulders forward. It's a stance of weakness. He caught me off guard that's all. I straighten almost immediately. I grasp for a snarky reply or an aloof chuckle, as though it's some secret joke between the two of us, but only manage a half-hearted shrug. The noncommittal response pushes his smug grin into something just as loathsome; a concerned frown.

"You better get moving if you think you're going to make it to the ice rink in an hour," I mutter.

He grabs hold of my wrist before I can slink away to the safety of my lab. I consider pulling out of his grasp. He might be stronger than me but I'm quicker. I could probably make it to the lab and close the door before he even reached the stairs. His grip tightens and I know escape is an improbability at this point. It would be more trouble than it's worth. I take in a deep breath and the sigh that follows makes my shoulders slump.

"What?" I ask again, this time the word more an annoyed plea for release.

"I was only teasing," he says and the there's a tiny hint of pity to the words that makes my spine bristle.

"I know," I reply.

"You guys, I mean, everything is all right? Cause she hasn't been around lately," he says, tripping over the words and looking as though he regrets each and every one.

She hasn't been around since you made an utter ass of yourself at dinner in front of her Dad.

"She's just really busy," I say, clearing my throat. "Finals are this week and her graduation is coming up. She's just really busy," I add with a forced smile when he looks less than convinced. "We're fine. Honest."

Just think of this as practice for when she moves to Chicago.

"All right, good," he says, finally letting go of my wrist. "She should come over when she's done with her school stuff. Mikey has been hounding Leo to let him invite the Doc's granddaughter over and ya know, might be easier if April and Casey are here the first time she sees the lair. Soften the blow or whatever."

I nod and actively avoid his gaze which is quite the simple task as he is trying to do the same thing. "Right, yeah, of course."

He slaps me across the shell once more with a grunt of a laugh. "Good workout, man," he says, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck from one side to the other. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Sure," I say.

He punches me in the shoulder and lumbers off towards his room to avoid any further conversation that borders so closely to discussing our feelings. I'm grateful for his hasty retreat. While I appreciate the sentiment Raphael is not who I want to turn to with my fears and doubts. His idea of comfort is usually an awkward punch or sarcastic, cutting remark. He means for it to lighten the mood, or at least I hope he does. In the end it usually just ends in me feeling worse about myself than when we started.

What do you expect? You're not a child. What, you want him to coddle you and make all the bad things go away? Grow up.

The lair is suspiciously quiet as I make my way to my bedroom. I can hear Mikey's muffled laughter behind his closed bedroom door. I leave him to it. I don't need to bring anyone else down with my bad mood. I start to uncoil the wraps around my wrists and hands, dropping them into the small laundry basket at the foot of my bed. I need a hot shower. I'll feel better after a shower. My T-Phone sits on the bedside table, the green light blinking to signal a missed text.

Are you still training?

April. Raph wasn't exaggerating when he claimed that she hasn't been around lately and I wasn't exactly lying when I said she was busy. The school year was winding down and with it came all the obligations and milestones that went along with it. We still texted and talked on the phone, but the conversations were usually brief and acted more as play by plays of the time spent apart than any real conversation. She would describe all the things that made the end of her senior year exciting and scary and I would listen and reply with the same, mundane tales of my day. Trained, worked in the lab, patrolled, worked in the lab, slept…sometimes.

I try to live vicariously through her stories, through her experience, but each new milestone and special day is like another twist of the knife. I can feel the jealousy rise in my chest to leave a bitter and shameful taste in my mouth. It's all a painful reminder that she's leaving soon. That she's growing and changing and moving on. She's going to grow into a wonderful, smart, successful woman. She's going to grow up and grow away. It happens with most people our age, why wouldn't it happen with us. Master Splinter tried to warn me. It doesn't matter. I wouldn't have changed a thing. I'll always have these last few months. Even if she goes away and I never see her again, at least I'll have my memories. Nothing can take that from me.

Just finished

I text back. I move to set the phone down, but she's already texting me back.

Can you come over?

I stare down at the words and run my thumb over the screen where they sit as though that will make them somehow more real. The longing to see her is something I can't ignore. It burns at the core of me and sends my heart hammering in my chest. I might only have a couple more months with her and I'm not about to spend them sulking in the sewers. I text her back and take a quick shower to wash away the grim of my training session. The air is warm and sweet above ground, clinging to those last few precious days of late spring when the temperature has yet to bake the pavement and ruin the scent of new leaves and budding flowers.

My sore muscles make the trip across the rooftops slower than usual and I'm close to exhausted when I reach April's building. She's sitting on the ledge when I drop down beside her. She turns slowly, a smile spread across her face and her hair hanging down across bare shoulders. She's wearing a blue sundress with little yellow flowers and a ribbon in her hair. I instinctively reach out to run my fingers across the satin ribbon and wish that I could see it shimmer in the sunshine instead of the moonlight.

"Hey," she greets me, throwing her arms around my neck and leaning in for a quick kiss. "I was starting to think you weren't going to show."

She says it with a teasing smile but I can hear the lurking sincerity and worry behind the words. "Sorry," I reply, nuzzling against the warmth of her cheek. "We had a long training session. I'm moving a bit slower than usual."

"No worries," she says, her fingers lingering over my forearms before trailing up to my bicep. "You've been training a lot lately," she murmurs, giving my arm a squeeze. "Not that I'm complaining," she adds with a smirk and a wiggle of her eyebrows.

I can feel my face warm with a blush and I'm a stuttering, awkward mess of vowel sounds in an instant. She smiles a kisses me once more.

"I have something to show you," she says, breaking apart to sift through her purse before handing me an envelope.

"What's this?" I ask, holding it away from my body in case it might explode or bite.

"An acceptance letter," she explains.

And just like that the warmth is sucked from the air and the giddy feeling in my chest twists into a painful knot. The envelope feels like a brick in my hands and I can't bring myself to look down at it. If I don't look maybe it won't be real. She scoots over to press against my side and I can feel her watching me expectantly.

Say something. Don't be a jerk. She's excited. Act excited. Don't be selfish. This isn't about you. Get over yourself. Don't ruin this for her!

"That's, uh…that's great, April," I say quietly. The words sound far off and muffled to my ears and I can't be certain that I spoke them at all so I clear my throat and add. "Congratulations."

"Aren't you going to read it," she says with a small nod towards the envelope.

I take in a sharp breath and force my gaze down. I move my thumb across the embossed emblem along the top of the envelope. It takes an embarrassingly long stretch of seconds for everything to come together into coherent thought. I blink and run my finger over the emblem and name and return address.

"NYU," I murmur, biting my lip to look up at her.

She greets me with a smile and a nod. "Yup and I have enough scholarship money to make it work and they have a really great program and…"

I cut off the rest of her words with a hug that might be just a bit too tight. She laughs and squiggles in my crushing grip. The sudden wave of relief is short lived and panic grips me like a vindictive undertow. I grasp her shoulders and pull back to force her gaze.

"This is what you want?" I ask. "You're not…I mean…this is what's best for you? You're not…settling or, or making this decision for any…any other reason…"

"This is what I want," she says, reaching up to take hold of my face. "It's a great program," she smiles and there's an earnestness behind her eyes that speaks the truth of it. "I don't want to leave New York. This city is my home. I belong here."

I pull her towards me once more. She nestles in against me, her arms wrapping around my waist as she rests her head in the crook of my neck beneath my chin. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, letting the scent of her fill my head. The bitterness and anxiety of the last few weeks melts away and there's only us and the warm breeze and the far off scent of flowers on the air. No matter what happens no one can take this away from me.