Michelangelo was the first to awaken once Donatello had fallen asleep. He rubbed at his eyes, stifling a yawn so as to not wake his family, and the first thing that caught his sleepy eye was the kitten in his brother's lap. "Hnn...? When'd we get a cat..." he mumbled, carefully stepping over a snoring Raphael who had slipped into a splayed position as he'd slept. "Donnie," he whispered. "Pssst. Hey, Donnie." Donatello was fast asleep, however, but April seemed responsive; opening her eyes a tad and slowly, slightly, leaning her head in the youngest turtle's direction.

It was all Mikey could do to not tear up or gag at the sight.

But for the pain it caused deep in his chest, Michelangelo knew what he had to do. For his family's safety. He understood now, the reality of the world they lived in, that this needed to be done to ensure it didn't happen to his other loved ones. He knew that the world was harsh, especially so these days. Certain measures needed to be taken.

The youngest turtle understood now, that he had to take the initiative. He had to grow up. And growing up meant doing things he, under any other circumstances, would never have thought of doing. And it seemed, when he took his sister figure's now fragile and decaying body in his arms, that even in her current state of mental health, April agreed with him.

Michelangelo was silent as he slipped out of the alley, as he began walking, blending in as best he could with the shadows. April was a constant in his peripheral vision, and he sighed. "Hey, April." His voice was a whisper. "You can hear me, right? I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, April... Sorry that this happened and that you had to have it happen to you." The orange-masked ninja tried not to get lost in his words as he walked, farther and farther away from his brothers and father. "I wish we had time to find a cure. This isn't anything like that wasp, we can't fix it... Not yet." April seemed to be slipping in his arms, and he hefted her up a bit. "We'll find a way, April. At least, Donnie will. You know he's a genius, I mean, you were helping him! You guys were doing great. But Sensei once told me, that sometimes you don't have enough time. Sometimes you'll work so hard to get somewhere, or to get something done, or you'll just work so hard period, and then in a split second everything you had is gone." Mikey swallowed, blinking several times. "That's just how it is, I guess. The six of us all worked so hard to keep you safe and get you and your dad back together... That's all gone now."

He shook his head, turning a corner and narrowly avoiding two walkers catching his scent, though it seemed that with April in his arms, her scent overrode his. He could certainly tell, not that he would mention it. "Heh... Well, they're avoiding us. Probably 'cause I've got you. And they don't wanna mess with the King of the Kusarigama!" Michelangelo laughed, the first time he'd done so in days. "When we find a cure, don't you worry, we'll find you. Somehow we'll find a way for it to fix people who are totally gone. Because... they're not. They're not totally gone, you know? Splinter says that our loved ones never leave us, and they're always there in spirit. Or something like that. Either in spirit, or they're in our hearts or minds... I like the spirit part better, though. It feels a bit better knowing I haven't got loved ones in my organs." Another chuckle. The ghost of a smile crossed April's lips. "See? There you go. You're gonna be alright, April, even if you totally turn. Because we'll fix it." Another corner. He wanted to get her somewhere where she couldn't hurt anybody.

In his mind he felt guilty. In his mind, he knew he was lying. To April, to himself. But even though she would forget him once she turned, forget him and everyone and everything he was telling her, he was determined to make her feel comfortable. He forced the smile that used to come so naturally and pressed onward.

"And when everything's all better and New York is as normal as it can get again, we'll have the Lair back. We'll find your dad and we'll all live happily ever after." What an odd fairy tale that would make. Once upon a time, there lived four turtle brothers and their father, who was a rat. They were all trained and skilled ninjas, but didn't leave home for fifteen years. On their fifteenth birthday, they left home and rescued the fair maiden April O'Neil from the clutches of the evil Kraang, and swore to save her father, who had been lost to the menace. The turtle brothers and their new friend April had many adventures, but one day, a horrible plague struck their home, forcing them out of their then shared residence and out into the world, to face horrific, decaying, zombies. As they prepared to face the hordes, April had been struck down by the plague. Despite their efforts to help her, she slowly succumbed to the disease, leaving the youngest brother, Michelangelo, to become the day's hero and take her away to a place where she would be safe from herself. Throughout the course of the story, the smartest of the four brothers, Donatello, developed a cure that would save their friend, and little by little they were able to save those who had been infected.

And they all lived happily ever after. The end.

Michelangelo knew that if she were alert, that if her brain wasn't dying by the minute, April wouldn't believe any of this. She knew better. Hell, if even he knew better, why should she not?

They'd been gone for at least an hour. Mikey knew his family would be looking for him, looking for them, but he didn't care. They had reached a small clinic, abandoned by its occupants but surprisingly not ransacked by survivors quite yet. He knew the bigger thing to do would be to have April stay in there, and he would search the shelves for anything that would be needed.

When he thought about it again, the only good part of that plan was the shelf-searching. Most of the apartments on this street had been long since left, the windows thankfully intact but the lights all out. If he were to... no, no. Barricading the apartment building would take too long, and who knew if there were occupants, survivors of the plague? Locking April in the clinic seemed the better idea of the two, but he wouldn't loose a zombie on unsuspecting raiders. Michelangelo sighed again, a long inhale through his mouth, and exhale through his nose. He'd seen a similar dilemma in a movie once, where had the main character taken his friend... Somewhere contained. Somewhere contained, somewhere contained...


He carefully sat April down on the seat's lid. "We'll come back for you, April. We'll come back for you soon." He locked the stall door, hearing her groan and gurgle in response. With all the strength he could muster, the turtle took another door off its hinges, slipping through the main door before using it to barricade the doorknob from the inside as best he could, knowing it would slip the minute he took his hand out from the gap, but he had a backup. The subway bathroom's door locked from the outside.

As he made his way back to the clinic, he was given time to reflect on the measures he'd just taken. As he called out to see if anyone was hiding, he bit the inside of his cheek. As he scooped acetaminophen, bandages, and peroxide into the bag he'd brought from the Lair, he cast his eyes down to the floor.

"I gotta stop lying to myself," he murmured. "But I guess... I guess it feels nice to believe we can help her. Must be how Donnie felt..."