2. THE DOOR
Sleep was impossible. His mind had run rampant over a dream, a dream, he thought dismissively. How could he let himself lose all sense of reason over someone who would never want him? The chance of a family, a life – how could he take that away from someone he supposedly loved? The realities of his dream were always at the back of his mind, embittering any hope he had.
Think it through, he told himself over and over. What kind of future could you possibly provide her? To live in the sewer? April, in the sewer? He exhaled slowly. She belongs with someone who can her make her happy, someone who can give her anything her heart desires... Casey? He shook his head. God, no. She can do better. She can do better than the both of us…
A light tremor worked through his hands, and he paused to abolish the sadness that threatened to loom.
It never happened, Donnie, it never happened. And if you're as half as smart as everyone says you are, you won't even want it too. The part of him that bloomed in his dream was pushed further down than ever, wilting under his analytical glare. I can't see her anymore, he decided. Not until I can…
Could what? He asked himself. Not feel anything anymore? Ah, but maybe that was it. For too long he had wrestled with this part of himself, the part that wanted more, and time and time again he had been thrown to the floor, battered. And now it was time to call it, to declare himself out of the rink and to throw himself into his work instead - something that had an answer, a question, a result. That was a reason as any to go on, he rationalized, that was a reason…
He shut his eyes tightly, her breath warm in his ear.
I want you…
"That wasn't real, you idiot." he whispered to himself, shaking badly at the lingering sensation of her.
That's it, he thought furiously, Stop torturing yourself.
He rose from his bed and went to his work bench, sketching up a quick design he had been thinking of the last few weeks. By dissembling and welding together the salvaged auto parts for a chassis, and using the inner tubes of tires for the skirt, he could construct the basis of an electric hovercraft. The wiring itself would be simple enough, a hassle to install, maybe, but a real no-brainer - from the control switch to the fans to the propellers, done. It was simple enough, he surmised, and he could even add retractable runners for when the water levels were low in the summer. He gave it a provisional title, 'Iris'. April's favorite flower. He stopped, wide eyed, and erased the name.
No, you god damned idiot. Argh, that would go down a treat with my brothers- Riding Iris hard, are you Donnie? Getting her wet, Donnie? Can I have a go riding her hard and wet, Donnie?
Even though they hadn't even said as much yet, he was certain it would be only a matter of time before comments would degenerate so disgustingly. He wrote down something much more benign instead.
'Sewer Skipper'
Better. He thought. And they wondered why all these things sounded the same. He added the last touches to his design, and appraised his work.
I really should make a scaled mock-up, he thought. He grabbed some flat sheets of metal and set to work.
...
Hours later into his construction there was a quiet knock on the laboratory door. He had just caught it between firing shots of his welder gun. Placing the nozzle down, he lifted his face shield.
"I don't have the key." he yelled at the door.
"Oh." came the muffled and confused reply.
Donatello stood abruptly.
April?
His heart began ticking faster. The empty despair brought on by his dream, what he had spent hours and hours trying to forget, simmered to the surface.
I can't...a small part of him floundered. But the image of her face flashed into his mind, her laughter, the joy she brought into his heart. It always won. He was powerless against it. He clenched his fists tightly, forcing himself towards the door, speaking to her through it.
"It … ah, it should be on the floor near where you're standing. If you slip it back under I'll be able to open it back up."
He heard her shuffle around the door, and then call out to Raphael. After his brother's grunted reply, she turned back to face the door.
"It's not here." she told him, apologetically, "Leo and Raph haven't seen it."
"God…damned… Mikey." he muttered quietly. Donatello rested his forehead against the door.
"That's what Raph said."
He couldn't see her grin but he knew it was there, her inflection was unmistakable. He found himself smiling along with her at the ridiculousness of their situation.
"Wait a sec…"
Her steps traced away from the door, and Donatello remained silent, listening for her return. Moments later she did: "You're never going to believe this."
Donatello shook his head; he had a very strong feeling he would.
He heard her rustle a piece of paper.
"It's from Mikey, it looks like some kind of list, he's written: 'Champion's Quest- a series of cryptic clues that will lead you to the key!'"
He heard her turn the paper, "And there's a map on the back…I think. It kind of looks more like squiggles of his cat... no wait, it's a map."
"Is he there?" he asked desperately.
He had been subject to one of these treasure hunts before. They usually made no sense after about half-way through when he grew bored of devising it.
"No. Raph said he headed down to the Chi-town tunnels after breakfast to go skating."
Donatello heard her slide down the door to sit on the floor. He crouched down to hear her.
"So…I have to ask. Why are you locked in there, anyway?"
"It was Raph's idea, actually...I've been sleep walking and... I just needed to make sure I didn't get out again." he finished quietly.
"More like sleep hikin'." Raphael's voice came from the other side of the door, "I'm so gonna kill that little punk when he gets back."
He heard his brother punch his fist into his open hand.
Leonardo stepped up to the door.
"How long have you been in there?"
"Since last night." Donatello replied, his embarrassment continuing to grow.
He hadn't needed to leave as yet, having been consumed by his thoughts of his dream…and then by his attempts to forget it. And now here was April, witnessing the aftermath meltdown in person.
"We can break down the door." Leonardo offered.
"Gladly." Raphael added, with a little too much enthusiasm.
"No, wait - don't do that. There are metal rods going through it. They hydraulically activate and seal the door if tampered with."
He heard Raphael grunt in frustration.
"Why on earth would ya do that for?"
"To stop anyone… getting in." he trailed off sheepishly.
"What about your bolt-cutters?" April asked.
Genius.
"Ah! Good thinking." Then he stopped short remembering where they were. "No." he said falling to the floor, eyes closed in annoyance. "They're out in the living room."
Shit. He and Michelangelo had gone further down into the tunnels two days ago to find another room to store some emergency equipment in. The security grates on some of the outfall pipes were constantly slowing them down until they had taken the bolt cutters. They had come back exhausted, after finally finding an abandoned utilities room – but then he had gone ahead and dropped the cutters on one of the tables near the sofa.
"You and Mikey?" Leonardo asked, quickly deducing the reason. He shifted on his feet.
"Yeah."
Raphael groaned, "Fuckin' great."
Donatello wanted to shrivel up and die when he remembered Splinter telling him to put them away, which, of course, he promptly forgot whilst being absorbed in rigging up a security camera for the new storage room.
Leonardo was the first to speak up at their predicament.
"This is foolish. I'm going to the Chi-town tunnels to bring him back. Coming, Raph?"
Raphael, never the one to turn down the chance of torturing his little brother, snickered.
"O-ho boy, yeah. That little brat is finally gonna get what's comin'"
"Hang tight, Donnie."
Leonardo's steps were light and quick on the ground. Donatello heard them leave, and turned his attention back to April.
"I am…so sorry." he said sincerely, half wishing the earth to just take him whole.
"What for? You have nothing to apologize for. I can just…talk to you from here." She settled up against the door.
Donatello sighed, and rested a hand over his eyes.
"It's just…Leo was meant to find the key. He's usually the first one up."
April looked at the note in her hands.
"You know, we could always follow Mikey's map?" she suggested casually. He heard her flickering the note on along her fingers.
"At your peril, quest champion."
He waited, knowing she was reading the first cryptic line of Michelangelo's note, probably written in a barely legible- let alone comprehensible - scrawl. She turned the paper around and back again, tutting to herself in confusion. Yeah, that's not going to work, she concluded quickly.
"Or," she countered, "you could use some of your heavy duty hardware in there to cut it open."
Donatello paused and looked at the solid door between them. He had thought along the same lines the moment he realized he was stuck.
"I should wait and see if we can get the key first. If I can get it open without having to break it, that would be better. I'll never be able to get it like this again; the safety mechanism is deceptively …complicated." He frowned. He didn't know what the hell he was talking about, exactly, anymore. The door?
"Good thinking." she replied quietly.
"That's me, always thinking," he joked lightly, "that's why I'm locked in here."
April laughed, but it was weighted with sadness. She fidgeted at the door, finally getting comfortable by drawing her knees close.
"You don't have to stay if you don't want to." he told her, "There must be a million things you'd rather be doing."
"I'm okay."
She was still there, Donatello realized, just waiting for him. He sighed guiltily.
"So... what does Mikey's note say, anyway?"
"Here, have a look."
She slid the note under the door. Several minutes passed before Donatello abandoned his deciphering.
"I see what you mean. He's got 'oranges plus milk equals a spoon' as clue one. At least, I think that's what it says." He screwed it up and tossed it further into his lab.
"Really? That's what you got?" she laughed. "I was thinking more along the lines of 'circles and shampoo something something tadpole.'"
He heard her shuffling with something next to the door. She was quiet for a while, then tore a page from a notebook.
"This one's mine."
She slipped him another note under the door. He opened it up. It was a drawing of a key.
"Thanks." he chuckled, folding t back up and slipping it into his belt.
"We'll get it open." she assured him, resting her head on her knees.
...
They sat quietly together, waiting for news from Leonardo and Raphael. With her so close, Donatello's dream pervaded his mind- the sound of bittersweet music, the shattered light on her face, their slow circling movements together, their kiss…he screwed up his face, hiding them in his hands. Not real. He told himself. She was right here, the real thing, better than any dream could promise.
She broke their tender silence: "When Leo rang up last night and said you were gone...I was so scared." She leaned against the door, "I don't know what I would have done if something happened to you."
Her face was etched with worry; she vividly remembered pacing for hours, one part of her wanting to run into the sewers to look for him herself, another part knowing she needed to wait in case he turned up at her place. She had rung Casey in desperation; he had grunted clipped answers without saying much but had agreed to search some of Donatello's junk yard haunts. "Thankyou Casey. Thankyou." she had told him over and over, gratitude and shame welling up inside. "I'm not doing it for him." he had replied bitterly. Then he had snapped his phone shut pointedly, ending any chance of a real conversation.
"I'm sorry, April." he said gently. He rested his head against the door, not knowing he was against her, doing the same thing on the other side. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"I know."
He exhaled heavily; it wasn't enough to leave her without answers. It wasn't fair to her. He shut his eyes tightly, not knowing if he would regret this:
"When I was sleep-walking I was also dreaming," he started, matter-of-factly, "…that we were at some kind of dance party."
"We?" she said, startled.
He tried to contain his rising panic.
"Uh…yeah. And as we were going to the dance floor, we kept walking past other people, on and on, trying to find somewhere to dance. I figured that's when I walking through the sewer tunnels."
"We were dancing?"
His heart hammered anxiously.
"Yes." The word left as a strangled whisper.
"Is that all?" she asked at length. A small, strange flicker of hope burned low.
He rested his hand gently against the door, wishing he could feel her again…her hair running through his fingers, the feel of her neck beneath his lips as she hitched her breath, the untold secrets of her body he longed to discover. He broke into a cold sweat, and swallowed hard, willing the memory of his dream away. Why was this so difficult? He needed the door there, needed it more than he could ever imagine.
You can offer her nothing, a voice told him. Nothing.
But as much as his rational mind was telling him such, it was losing to her.
No, I would do anything for her, he told himself.
Even let her go? The voice asked cruelly.
"Yes." he answered, eyes shut furiously tight and his stomach sickeningly empty.
"Why couldn't you just tell me that, Don?"
Her voice seemed to plead for something more, but he stopped it dead, burying the last of his hope under an answer that seemed believable.
"I was just so…embarrassed. I scared my family and potentially put them in danger. I scared you… it's like I had no control over my body anymore."
He heard her release her breath. The moment was gone.
"God, Don, I don't care if you were dreaming of setting fire to an orphanage. I just want to know you are safe."
You shut me out, she wanted to tell him. That was what had scared her most of all. She had no clue he was doing it again. She looked at the door between them, resting her palm tenderly on its surface.
Donatello tried to assuage her worries.
"I guess I just needed to sleep after that. It really threw me - I've woken up breaking things in my room before, but I've never been outside the lair… I guess they told you I set off the alarms?"
She giggled, "Yeah. I really hope there's footage of that."
"Argh, I completely forgot about that." he grimaced, "There is no way you're watching it, Miss O'Neil."
"Oh, yeah? And who's going to stop me?"
"If you can get in here, I'll take that threat seriously."
"Okay, okay, you got me for now." she said grinning, "But don't think this is over."
"Oh no, I don't."
Donatello's phone began to buzz, he took it from his belt, looked at the caller, and flipped it open.
"Raph?"
"Guess who we jus' ran into?"
Donatello heard him move the phone.
The frantic cries of his youngest brother assaulted him and he held the phone back from his ear.
"Ah…hi Donnie, it's me. Y'know, your brother. Michelangelo. Mikey. Your brother. So…how're you going, bro? Argh! Okay, okay, stop it, stop, stop!"
He heard a few thumps.
"Say it." Leonardo's stern voice said in the background.
"…okay! It's under the- STOP IT! It's under the trophy…" There were indistinguishable cries at this point overlapped with Raphael cursing.
"Mikey?" Donatello said in concern.
"Gah! Okay, just put me down, I told him…"
"aaand?" Raphael growled, also in the background.
"And…and I'm sorry Donnie! I'll make it up to you!"
Donatello heard another scream get cut short as the line disconnected.
'Champion's Quest' – ugh, he should have guessed - Michelangelo and his goddamned Championship trophy.
Donatello sprung up.
"April?"
She listened frowning, "What is it?"
"You know the trophy on the t.v.? It's underneath that."
He heard her jump onto her feet and run towards the lounge room. Moments later she was back, sliding the key back under the door. He grabbed it hastily, slipping it into the lock and sliding the bolt free.
"Hey!" she cried out in delight when the door was open. She threw her arms around his shoulders and spun herself around him, landing neatly on her feet inside the lab. She smelt of freshly cut flowers, and the heat from her body caused his own to react responsively, bringing it to life. He couldn't help but notice that she was still holding his hands, smiling as she peered into his eyes.
"I was beginning to think we were going to have to feed you under the door."
"That certainly would be an interesting meal..."
"Yeah, salami slices and swiss cheese." she giggled.
"Ugh. Can you believe Mikey?"
April shook her head, "Under the trophy. We should have guessed, right?"
"Yeah." he agreed, chuckling lightly.
Donatello glanced down at her hands, still in his. He looked back up at her with a puzzled look. Her ring...it was missing. She caught his observation and gave him a small but sad smile.
"I didn't know…" he said to her gently, quickly understanding why it was gone, "Are you okay?"
She nodded lightly, as painful tears formed in her eyes. It killed him to see her like this, and without saying another word, he took her into his arms. She clung tightly to him, trembling like a leaf, the pain of her separation with Casey releasing forth as she buried her face into his strong shoulders. And although it tormented him to hold her close, with the hope he ever had for them pushed deep down into his heart, he did because she was more important to him.
For her, he thought, Anything for her.
But as he closed his eyes he could see them dancing in a galaxy of stars, their intimate embrace in another life.
...
