It's your fault.

They didn't say so, but I could see it on their faces. Some hesitant questions. 'Why did you leave her alone?' 'Why did you let the guy get away?' I could've told them what I was trying to do with that stupid date idea, I could've told them that I was too distracted with April dying in my arms to pay attention to the street thug but instead I didn't even say anything. I don't think that I've really said a word in a week. I know that Master Splinter is starting to worry but somehow I couldn't bring myself to care. I didn't care what happened to me. My brothers largely kept their distance. They could see my hurt, yet at the same time they could see my fault. Maybe they were counting on time and some nice cushy distance to help things.

Screw time. I hated it. Loathed it. All it serves to do is to prolong suffering.

The funeral was horrible. April had family and friends, coworkers. We couldn't get away with a private funeral. We settled for a cold, starkly silent meeting amongst ourselves before we slunk away to hide in the shadows like rats while the real funeral took place. I felt like laughing. Look, another great prize for being a mutant! We can't even go to a proper damn funeral. Can't even mourn her how I wanted, not that I knew what that was. I waited until everyone was gone then waited longer for the starkness of midnight before slowly going over to the grave, looking at the stinking, filthy dirt that now thought itself worthy to envelop April O'neal. I wanted to cry, I wanted to curse, but all that I could do was sit and stare at it until the golden red color of the sun peaked over the horizon.

I winced as I shifted in my seat. Casting a glance at the fading yet still colorful bruises I sighed and stared at the glowing computer screen once more. Casey wasn't happy. Collossal understatement. He was furious. He screamed at me. He spit in my face. He raled at me, practically accused me of killing her myself.

It was my fauilt. All my fault.

Finally he launched himself on my, pummeling my body with his fists and feet. I didn't even try to fight back. I deserved every blow. I hardly noticed when my family pulled him off of me. I was too numb.

It was my fault.

My family made a few attempts at talking to me but half the time I didn't even know what they were saying. I tried to tell myself that I was being selfish, that they were hurt too, that April was their friend too, but the words fell upon the emptiness inside me with deafening silence. It wasn't the same. Even if I wasn't attracted to her, we had always had that special connection, that special friendship. We shared interests, secrets, thoughts, feelings…

I let my head fall on my arm, staring at the computer screen with listless eyes. I didn't even know what I was looking for, maybe I was just relying on the faithful computer for the cold computerized friendship that it always selflessly provided or maybe it was just so that if my family popped in it would look like I was busy and they wouldn't bother me.

Letting my fingers trail across the keyboard that I specially modified for my blocky fingertips I found myself looking at a law enforcement website. There was a blocked part of it. Before I realized what my hands were doing I found myself weaving right into it, hacking into their system. Maybe it would be nice to do something, I haven't hacked anybody in a while.

It was more intricate than I thought it would be but delved into it anyway. I needed to do something, anything to get rid of the emptiness that threatened to envelop my very soul. This would be a start, I suppose.

It turned out that nearly every officer in New York used this system, each with their own caseload and file in their own separate branches and twigs emanating from the trunk of the main network. Feeling slightly nosey, I looked at the cases.

I shook my head. How could some people live with themselves? The rapes, the assaults, the thefts, the murders… The investigators were able to post their own comments and thoughts in an unnoficial section. Half of the cases the cops were very sure who the perp was but needed more evidence. There was a few where the guy was guilty but the case was thrown out due to trivial things like improper paperwork. I know our justice system is better than most, but sometimes the push for supporting the innocent lets too many go free.

Some of the stories was starting to make my stomach turn, I found my mind wandering. April hated it when I hacked for kicks like this. She was a very big believer of justice and doing the right thing. Guilt was niggling at the back of my mind. I really should stop this. This is bad for her memory.

Yet I clicked on one more story, my body moving mechanically.

I stared in open mouthed shock.

That's him! That's the guy! As I stared at the face on the screen a fresh torrent of emotions whipped into my raw psyche. I saw his face hanging over April's, a grimacing smile played across his lips, the knife he held in his meaty grip burying it between her ribs to pierce her heart mortally, his ugliness daring to impose itself on her beauty.

With trembling fingers I moved the mouse and clicked on the case. He was wanted for assault, battery and robbery of four elderly couples. My fingers tightened on the mouse, the plastic creaking in protest. I saw the pictures. One of the victims, a 90 year old woman, was now in a coma. Apparently he's only interested in easy prey. But why beat them like that? How much of a fight would those poor, frail people put up? He was a coward and a sicko. I could easily picture him smiling as he caused those victims all that pain and torment, just as he did with April.

All I could hear was the blood pouring in my ears with my heart working overtime in my fury. I stood up so fast that my desk chair toppled over, my hands clenched into fists. I could easily picture my hands around his throat, his arteries beating against my palms, the panic in his eyes as the light of life ultimately leaves them.

Abruptly I shook myself. Wait, what was I thinking? I was never the violent type, I don't have a temper, I never supported vigilante justice…is this what April would want?

I looked at the screen again. The cop in charge of the investigation was 100% sure that this was the guy, but none of the victims were talking, they were too scared. On top of that there was minimal evidence, but apparently the guy had literally confessed to the cop when he knew he wasn't being recorded so he had no proof. I quickly scanned my legal knowledge. Considering what they could pin on him, he could get put away for 5 years, 8 years tops though he'd likely get out a lot sooner if he behaves himself. After all, the prisons were overcrowded as it is.

I thought about sending the officer the information about him murdering April. Surely he'd appreciate something else to pin on this guy, and eyewitness testimony would help! Then he could get a REAL prison sentence…

I stopped short. What was I thinking? I'm not an eyewitness, I'm a mutant who can't show myself to anyone. No evidence was brought from April's case, there'd be nothing real to pin on this guy, the only thing that would really place him there would be lack of a real alibi if no one is vouching for him of course.

I sat down heavily, letting my head fall into my palms. Taking a deep breath, I quickly catalogued my thoughts, listing my options, weighing the likely outcomes, doing mental calculations, making ratios of likelihood… Clenching my fists, I gnashed my teeth. It wouldn't work. Nothing that I was thinking would work. As a citizen, my options were limited. As a mutant, you could practically discount all of them. I had even lost my interest in knocking heads on our nightly runs. I had did the research, even the punks that we found that were arrested, 99.99% of them were released due to lack of evidence. Some of them went straight for the victims that we had rescued them from as their own vengeance. I didn't let my family know that of course, they were thinking that we were doing something worthwhile, something productive. I couldn't burst their bubble. Let me stew with the knowledge on my own.

So what could I do? I couldn't go to the police. It is impossible to try to find evidence to present to them; besides, what makes me think that I can get anything that they can't? After all, they can do everything out in the open and they have the support of an entire department. I could go to the guy and rough him up, teach him a lesson. And then what? He'll heal, then go out and do it again. What's the point of that?

Well, what could I do?

The obvious answer that was dancing in the back of my mind continued to wave its hand in front of my face. I turned away from it, searching for another option, an honorable option.

I toiled over it for the rest of the afternoon. I ate dinner with my family but this was at forefront and I hardly noticed their concerned glances. Mikey was trying to get under my skin, maybe to distract me but I heard Splinter stop him. It was obvious to him that I was thinking about some sort of problem. He was happy that I wasn't drowning myself in sorrow, perhaps I was working on a new device or problem, something that would help me heal. I was surprised at how astute he was, of course he didn't know that this new issue had a lot to do with April.

The entire meal my eyes darted to my family. Should I tell them? I tried to picture how they would react. Leonardo would want to do the right thing, Raph would want to go and beat the shit out of him, and Mikey would go along with whatever direction the group chose to take. Splinter? He would definetly side with Leo. He would be astonished, and perhaps ashamed, at the route that my mind was beginning to take.

Even though I told myself that I would tell them everything, I couldn't find my voice. Maybe that was for the best. After all, It was my fault what happened to April. This scumbag likes easy targets. A single woman alone qualifies. It never would have happened had I been standing next to her like I was supposed to be.

It never would have happened.

My fault.

I didn't even realize that I had made my resolve until I found myself sneaking out by myself.

My feet felt like they weren't my own as I stood on the pavement. Yet I walked. Looking at the GPS on my phone, I approached his house. My hands tightened on my bostaff, the leather wrapping creaking slightly. The dingy apartment complex looked slightly foreboding. Then my resolve deepened.

This would change everything. It would tarnish my honor. It would stain me. Change me. It would never be the same. Yet here I was doing it because I had to.

I was about to become a killer.

I know that it was wordy but I figured that it fit Don's personality. He's not the type to be rash, right? Please let me know what you think. I wrote this in one sitting literally an hour ago so I'm on a roll. All reviews welcome, I love ramblers. Let me know any predictions or what you want to happen, to be honest I'm not really sure how to end this thing so of course input is welcome.