A/N: Okay, some steam below. Enjoy and Review! XD

"You have suffered enough and warred with yourself -

It's time that you won.

Take this sinking boat and point it home -

We've still got time . . ." – Falling Slowly by Glen Hansard

Chapter 21 – Making Amends

Donatello crept to the edge of the fire escape and began to climb down to April's apartment. The sun slowly sunk into the west, hidden beneath a thick layer of dark clouds; creating long purple shadows in between the buildings despite the gray overhead. The sharp December air bit into his bare flesh. It was full of the promise of snow. Christmas was right around the corner now. It would be their first without all of them together. A sharp pain went through his chest. Christmas without Leo was going to suck.

He knew that he could busy himself in his lab and take on extra hours with his job, not that that would actually help anyone get through the family-orientated holiday except for maybe him. But Raph . . . he was not handling this well at all. At first he thought his brother was angry with him for being put in charge. Don waited for the confrontation about it, but it never came. It was more like Raph was angry that Leo had actually gone. Don huffed through his nose, watching the puff of air evaporate in front of his snout. Like Leonardo ever had a real choice in the matter. He deduced that Raph was angry that Leo didn't fight to stay in New York. That somehow, Leo had willingly abandoned them. Raph was busy punishing himself and everyone around him for this perceived abandonment. He was not looking forward to a Christmas morning spent with a sullen and angry Raphael looming in the corners of the lair.

And Mikey . . . with a heavy sigh, Donatello dropped onto the balcony just outside April's kitchen window. Mikey would not take it well. Don shook his head. Out of all of them, Mikey most looked forward to Christmas every year. He soaked up the charm of the holiday season and seemed to glow for weeks before and after. So far, his little brother hadn't even brought it up.

The most wonderful time of the year was quickly turning into the most dreaded. His breath ghosted out before him and he shivered while waiting for April to answer his tentative tapping at the window.

Before long, her face appeared. For a second, he took in the sight, half-hidden just behind the frost kissed window: her long bangs swept to one side of her face; her uneven freckles standing out, sprinkled across the top of her slightly rounded cheeks; her eyes bright and green, and his breath caught. His mind flashed the memory of her beneath him; face flush, cheeks pink with a slight sheen of sweat. The indescribable joy he'd felt. The memory was sweet for the momentary, fleeting relief it brought to his stressed-filled over-worked mind and heart.

Oh, April. I need you now more than ever before.

He clamped his eyes down hard; shoving the image away with a hard shake of his head. He could not shake the dreaded feeling that everything good in his life was about to end. But she had called and he'd come running to find . . . what? He squared his shoulders; readying to take the blow with as much courage and grace as he could. The window creaked as she lifted it open and stepped back so he could come inside. He only hesitated a moment before climbing in to face his fate.

He hooked one leg over then the other and as he turned and straightened up, a hand shot out and slapped him across the face. He fell back, a hand went to his stinging cheek.

"Karai! What the hell!" April shouted.

"You deserved that."

Donatello's face snapped to the woman standing to his left who hit him. Karai scowled at him and crossed her arms over her chest. So, April didn't hit him? Thank goodness. But wait. Karai!? What the hell was she doing in April's apartment? Immediately, Donatello jumped up and fell into a fighting stance. His sharp gaze moved quickly throughout April's kitchen looking for hidden attackers.

"Relax," Karai said. "It's only me."

His gaze shot from April to Karai back to April. "Wh-What is she doing here, April? Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Karai rolled her eyes and reached out to poke Donatello in his shoulder. "I told you, relax." But then her eyes went wide and she clamped her hand over her mouth and raced out from the kitchen. Leaving a stunned April and a completely baffled Donatello standing in the middle of the room.

April reached out to gently caress the cheek that Karai had hit, but Donatello lurched away from her. With a stormy glance he marched around her towards her living room. He cast a quick glance down the hallway where Karai had slammed the bathroom door. April, feeling a bit hurt, but trying to understand that Donnie had been surprised, followed behind him. Suddenly, Donatello spun on her.

"What is this?" he hissed. "April . . . D-Did you set me up?" he asked as his face fell into a deep frown.

"What?! N-No, Don. H-How can you think I'd do something like that?"

He cut her off, "Well, what would you call this? You called me sounding all serious and . . . and I thought you wanted to . . . needed me . . . I ran all the way here only to get jumped."

April rolled her eyes. "Please, Donnie, that wasn't exactly an attack."

Donatello scowled at her. He moved to step around her. His anger was tangible. "You know what? I'm outta here. You seem to have everything under control."

April grabbed his arm and he stopped. He dropped his head, then looked over his shoulder at April.

"April . . . we need to –"

Donatello's words dropped away as Karai emerged from the hallway, looking pale and shaky. Her right hand rested gently on her stomach, the other wiped at her chin. Donatello took this all in. His mind racing.

"Sorry," she waved one hand in Donatello's direction. "Just got a little too close . . . you smell too much like him." She fanned herself then brought her hands to her hips as she swallowed with her head down; eyes closed.

Donatello and April exchanged glances.

"Okay. I'm good." She breathed then looked up. "Where was I? Oh, yeah. You." She pointed at Donatello. He set his jaw. "Don't give me that look. You deserved that and you know it." Her eyes narrowed. "You're going to tell me exactly where I can find Leonardo. You owe me."

He blinked, taken aback. "I don't owe you anything. If you remember, Karai, we were hauling my brother's broken and bloody body away from your father and your Foot Clan."

"And you know I had nothing to do with that," she snapped.

April pulled on his arm. "Let's sit down and talk this out," she offered reasonably. Donatello looked at her as though she'd grown another head.

"Yeah, I think that'll be a great idea," he chuckled and it was without warmth. "Let's get some tea going and maybe Shredder can bring over some homemade cookies," he said sarcastically. "Then I'll tell him where my brother went and while I'm at it, I'll give him the location of my father so he can torture and kill us all."

"You ass," Karai hissed and came at him. He dodged back and swung. She blocked and he aimed lower. Karai's eyes widened as both wrists came down to block the blow aimed at her mid-section.

"NO!" she shrieked.

Shocked at her extreme reaction to a simple strike, Donatello pulled back so fast and hard that he stumbled into April. They tumbled to the floor. Flustered, Donatello looked up. Karai stood over them shaking and panting and holding her stomach protectively.

"I-I mean, stop. I'm her friend," Karai tried to amend, motioning to April with her head.

Donatello didn't take his focused gaze from Karai and the way she stood, still cradling and shielding her stomach, still shaking. His heart began to hammer in his chest as something started to come together. Preposterous.

April spoke from next to him, but it seemed as if she were speaking to him from a long distance phone call. "It's true, Don. After everything we've been through together. We . . . We're friends."

"You told her that Leo's gone?" he asked April, numbly, still staring at Karai.

Calmly, April replied, "Yes. Don, she loves him. And Leo . . . he loves her, too. Now, I promised Leo I wouldn't tell her where he'd gone."

Slowly, Donatello pulled his focus from Karai and turned his face to April, sitting on the floor next to him. "If he asked you not to tell her, what makes you think I would? Besides, there's probably a reason why he didn't want her to know, April," he said the last part as if she were obviously missing a very apparent, simple fact.

Karai crouched in front of him. All traces of anger was gone. Her face was pale and full of pleading. It reminded him too much of that desperate moment in the alley after they rescued Leonardo.

"Donatello, please. He only made April promise not to tell me because he was worried that my . . . the Shredder would hurt me if I went after him. But I need to reach him. It . . . It's very important that I do."

Donatello slowly shook his head.

"I begged you once and you ignored me. Donatello, don't make me beg you again."

She looked firmly into his eyes and slowly, he dropped his gaze down to her hand on her stomach, a flicker of unease swept through him. The idea was ridiculous. Impossible. Ludicrous. And yet, when Leonardo had come back, he did not have his clothing on or the coat that he'd left in. He'd spent the night somewhere. Now it clicked in Donatello's mind just where his brother spent his last night of freedom. Of course.

But this couldn't be. It wasn't possible. Slowly he raised his eyes back up to hers. He scrutinized her face carefully. It couldn't be possible. His eyes asked the question that refused to be spoken. She blinked; pressed her mouth into a thin line. He willed her to know what his mind screamed at her. Her eye brows came together in a small frown of worry as her eyes darted between his, searching for some sign that he'd give her what she wanted. Stubborn girl, he thought. With a resigned sigh, he realized and accepted that he'd have to ask. Somehow, he had to discover if his insane theory could possibly be reality. Throat working, Donatello opened and closed his mouth as the words struggled to come together.

"K-Karai, is there something you want to t-tell me?" he asked carefully. A flash of panic went through her gaze. But it was quickly replaced with a cool hardness.

With only a slight tremor in her voice to give her away, she said, "Not to you, no."

His eyes widened. "Impossible." The whispered word slipped from his mouth, carried on his breath.

Karai's face crushed down into an anguished expression. Her voice broke and she sounded like a frightened, lost teen and not the warrior kunoichi that Donatello knew. "Will you just tell me where the hell he went?"

He sat staring for another couple of seconds before he finally nodded. Karai was right. He owed her this small thing. Owed her and Leonardo for keeping her pledge of love a secret for so long. He could finally make amends to his brother, to the woman who apparently loved him and would risk anything to be with him. His eyes dropped to her stomach. He swallowed dryly. The woman who was . . . dare he even think it? Carrying Leonardo's child.

"I . . . can't give you exact coordinates. The tracking device I have on him is limited in scope and range. But," he glanced at April who nodded for him to go on. "I can at least give you a radius to start looking for him in."

Karai's eyes filled up with tears. She threw herself at Donatello and wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands went up and out to the sides. She pressed her lips to Donatello's cheek and tearfully thanked him between kissing him over and over. With reddened cheeks, he carefully unwrapped Karai's arms from his neck, shooting a nervous glance over at April's face to gauge her reaction. But April only shook her head and beamed at him; looking proud and relieved. He let out a shaky chuckle. Feeling lightheaded and in a bit of a surreal daze by the roller coaster ride that made up the last few minutes.

After a very grateful and nearly tearful Karai left, Donatello turned back to April. He rubbed the back of his head. April sat on the couch across from the love-seat from Donatello. His mind spun. He still couldn't believe what he suspected. No, it just couldn't be. And yet . . . If what had happened between his brother and Karai was true, this changed everything. Absolutely everything. But not necessarily for the better, he realized and his head snapped to April. What would she think of him if she thought he could get her pregnant? A mutant baby turtle-human hybrid. Would she still want anything to do with him?

"April," he said and his voice cracked. "We need to talk."

"I know," she replied and bit her bottom lip. "But let me . . ." she trailed off as she stood up and moved around where he sat. She stood behind. He turned and April placed her hands on his shoulders, turning him back around. "Sit still, please," she said and started to knead at the knots in his neck and shoulders.

"Uh, alright . . . oh . . . ohhhh," he breathed.

His mouth hung open and his eyes slid shut in pleasure. He didn't even realize how sore he was until she started to press and rub at his rock hard neck; pulled in and held tight from all the stress. Her hands were warm and felt wonderful as they worked out the tightness and balled up muscle mass. Everything he wanted to discuss slid into the background, replaced by this wonderful, loving attention. He didn't want to ruin the moment and give her any reason to stop, so he kept his worries and concerns to himself for now. Besides, it was completely impossible. It couldn't be true.

She'd never offered to massage him before, though when they were just friends he'd spent many nights rubbing her neck; helping relieve the stress from high school tests and social pressure. He never felt it was one sided at the time. He only relished getting to be so close and getting to touch her. Every chance he got was a gift.

Now, he sat back and simply basked in the feel of her hands and fingers. She moved her hands up the sides of his neck and stroked his jaw, reaching from the front to the back, pulling at his skin; then moved back to rubbing in between his shoulder blades with her thumbs; reaching down beneath his shell. Donatello groaned in pleasure.

She spoke softly, her voice a caressing breath on the back of his neck. He suppressed a shiver. "I know things have been crazy at the lair since Leo had to leave. We haven't had any time alone. Not even when I was living there with you. And you've taken on so much."

Her hands moved back to the tops of his shoulders, still kneading and massaging the tight muscles; feeling them start to soften from her ministrations. He could only nod.

"I'm sorry we haven't had a chance to . . . hang out or really even talk. But I wanted to say that . . . I'm really proud of you," she murmured. He raised an eye brow and shifted.

He felt a rush of gratitude and slight embarrassment. "I-I appreciate that," he said staring forward, and he meant it; more than he could even express to her.

Her fingers slid to the front of his collar bone. She trailed her finger tips along the top edge of his plastron and he shivered.

"Can you feel that?"

"Yes," came his soft reply.

"Hm," she said and moved back to his shell.

She ran her fingers along the segmented rim, then folded her fingers underneath the ridge and noticed that on the underside, the shell was not rough but smooth as glass, velvet almost like well-worn leather. She never noticed that before. But how could she? She'd never taken a moment to explore any of them like this before. Not this closely; this intimately. It made sense that the inside wouldn't be rough; hard, yes, but not rough. Where it came into contact with their skin, it was smooth and silky feeling.

Donatello felt her fingers sliding along the inside of his shell. What was she . . .? He cleared his throat and then involuntarily, he shivered as her fingers brushed the part of him that connected with his spine, lower between his shoulder blades. She paused.

"Can you feel that?"

He nodded mutely.

She pulled her hand out from the underside of his shell. She tilted her head and brushed her fingers from both hands along the outside of his shell where the lines and ridges supposedly marked off the years he's been alive. Again he shivered. "When I touch your shell? Out here? You can feel that?"

He ducked his head and looked over his shoulder at her, blinking. Feeling a little awkward and shy at her sudden intense interest in his anatomy. Her odd look of concentration and eagerness made him swallow.

"Uh, y-yeah, April," he started in a nervous tone, but slowly his voice rose as it grew in confidence as he moved into an area that he understood. He explained, "We have nerves that run throughout our carapaces, more concentrated in some places than others. Especially at the join between our backbones and our shell, radiating outwards in a spiral pattern. So, the closer to the center of our carapace the stronger the sensation. The further out the contact is from the center the less so. But it's still something we can sense and feel. Even along the rim of our shells, only there it's more a distant sensation."

"Oh," she said simply, moving her fingers in a spiral pattern along one of his series of ridges, slowly drawing her hands to the center of his shell.

"B-But, Yes. To answer your question. I can tell when you're . . . touching me," he finished quietly.

"So, it hurts when your shells get damaged?"

He shrugged but then nodded, happy to expound since she was suddenly so interested. "Depends. But, not as much as if our skin is cut or a bone is broken, of course. Our plastrons are similar – only much more sensitive. I think that was one of many of the more dramatic changes we underwent when we mutated. It's not as rigid and impenetrable as it is in normal turtles. More like a thick callous for a human. It offers some protection while still maintaining flexibility. Otherwise, there'd be no way for us to practice the twists and bending required to master martial arts."

"Wow. I had no idea." She moved her hands and slid them along the top of his shell. "You are truly amazing," she said quietly, more to herself than to Don.

He shrugged again, humbly, as she moved to the front of him and dropped to her knees. He swallowed as he followed her train of sight. He shifted in his seat, feeling his cheeks warm. April placed her hands on his kneepads. Donatello blinked and stared at her hands for a moment, feeling very self-conscious and strangely exposed after all this discussion about his anatomy. He decided to fill the awkward silence before it stretched out too long.

"I've wanted to . . . talk. For a while now, actually." He sighed, frustrated with the fact that it had taken this long to be alone with his girlfriend. He blinked at the thought. April is my girlfriend. Boosted by this thought he went boldly on, "About things. About . . . when we were together, the last time. The f-first time, I m-mean. B-But, I just haven't had a minute alone with you."

"You do now," she purred and with that, she pried his knees apart.

"Oh. Uh, huh?" He squirmed as April shifted a little closer and tilted her head. "Oh, uh, y-yes. But I-I do have to get back s-soon. When you called, I sort of took off without letting anyone know . . ."

She nodded without really paying attention and narrowed her eyes as she looked closer between his legs.

"A-April-" he started nervously, wondering what she was looking at so intensely. He jumped and let out a yelp as her hand shot between his thighs and beneath him.

"You have a tail!" April shouted; eyes wide and an astonished smile spread over her face. She grabbed the thick appendage firmly in her fist. "A tail!"

Donatello's chest heaved as he dug his heels into the floor on either side of April; shoulders hunched; pushing his hands into the cushions of the couch as he broke out in a sweat. His eyes snapped closed and his mouth hung open in a silent shout. Cheeks flushed, he gasped and threw his head back as he felt her fingers tighten as she stroked and gently pulled on his tail. His rigid body shuddered violently and he gasped again before he lurched forward and grabbed her by her shoulders.

"Please-let-go," he said quickly in a strained voice.

April blinked coyly and a sultry smile came over her face. "Why?" she asked innocently. She stopped moving her hand but held him tight.

Donatello looked at her in disbelief. "I-It's s-sensitive," he barely choked out.

"How come I've known you guys for years and this is the first time I've seen this?" she asked and as she did she gave him another little squeeze and another pull. His thighs thrummed and trembled on either side of her.

He closed his eyes and snapped them back open. A whimper broke from his throat. "I dunno. Th-They're a p-private part of . . . our bodies and we usually k-keep them tucked against us," he panted out his rapid explanation. "Please, April. I c-can't . . ." he whimpered.

Her face grew serious. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

With jerking motion, he shook his head no. April noticed then how the bottom of his body, just where the inverted 'v' of his plastron sat was now sporting a large bulge. From her experience with him in the barn back at her Aunt's farm, she knew exactly what was hidden just beneath it. April's face slid back into a sultry expression.

"I see," she adjusted herself where she knelt. "So, it doesn't hurt when I do this?" she asked and ran her fingers down the length of his tail, gently but still keeping contact firm.

Donatello slammed into the back of the loveseat. He shuddered violently as his masculinity emerged and made a sound she never heard come from any of them before. A deep rumbling noise rose up from the middle of his chest and poured out from the back of his throat. A mix of a growl and a thundering purr; it was primal and powerful. It stunned and thrilled her.

For a moment she sat shocked, blinking, then quickly recovered herself; only a little surprised to find she was getting very warm. Donatello peered down at her from beneath heavy-lidded eyes. His irises were molten pools flecked with gold. His mouth hung open a little.

"What are you doing to me?" his voice was deep and husky with desire. A tone and quality she'd never gotten out of him before. Then again, they hadn't had much practice. Something she was determined to rectify. She felt her cheeks flush. Karai was right. She should have explored him a long time ago.

"Making things right," she purred.

"April," he breathed and reached down to gather her into his arms. April released him and wrapped her arms around his neck as their mouths met and kissed deeply, urgently. She felt the powerful waves of his voracious desire flow over her.

"I love you, Don," she whispered into his mouth as he kissed her again. She felt him shiver and tighten his hold around her. The warm wetness of his joyful tears melted amongst her own.

The candles flickered around him as he pressed the pen to paper. Again, he began only to stop, read what he'd written then scowl. With deliberate motion, he crinkled the paper into a ball and threw it to the side where it bounced and rolled next to the pile gathering dust in the corner. Master Splinter sighed.

Splinter had sent his son thousands of miles away from his home and his family. Alone. For training, for centering his energy, for cleansing his spirit of that woman's taint . . . for punishment of his stubborn defiance. He had packed his son materials to stay in touch. And, like the obedient student he ever was, in the last six weeks, they had gotten several letters explaining Leonardo's general whereabouts and formalities of his health, training and well-being. But he had not written his son back in response. Not once. It wasn't for lack of trying. It was simply that he did not know what to say.

He was not sorry for his decision. He would not apologize for what he'd chosen to use as a way to finally get through to his son the importance of his role as leader within their family. In some ways, Leonardo had given him no other choice but the radical one he made. Master Splinter knew that Leonardo would continue to pursue the traitorous female despite his pledges of fealty to his brothers and him. If she needed him . . . wanted him . . . he would have run to her, every time. Of that, Splinter was sure.

He huffed. The action only intensified the tingling pain that raced through his chest into his left arm. The candles closest to him felt the ghost of his breath and flickered. The shadows rose up in front of him in a frenzied dance. What he did was only to ensure Leonardo's complete dedication. It was for the good of all of them.

Splinter shook his head, silently arguing with the accusing faces that peered at him from between the fleeting shadows. He would not apologize for wanting his family to remain secure and unified in his absence. No, he was not sorry for sending his eldest son . . . his once shining pride and joy, to the edge of the world. Alone. But he was not happy with it either.

Splinter stood and slowly pinched the flames of the candles out, one by one. And if in his nightmares he was visited by images of his son injured, bleeding out in the darkness of the jungles, starved and lonely, he would shoulder the burden and only pray that the visions were merely borne out of his deepest insecurities of his son's abilities. Leonardo could fare for himself. Of that he was certain. His son was strong and capable, Splinter told himself. He'd trained him, hardened him, molded and prepared him well.

The next candle he reached for hissed as the delicate flame struggled and fought against being extinguished; succumbing inevitably to the suffocating pressure between his finger and thumb squeezing the wick. Splinter pulled back and examined the slightly singed pads on his fingertip and thumb. A twinge of burning pain shot up through his blackened finger and thumb to his wrist. Splinter grimace and shook his hand. That actually hurt. He brushed the pain away, content with the thought that it was merely temporary.

As he slid into his bed, the tightness in his chest returned. His hand ached and burned still. Splinter closed his eyes and tried to center his uneasy thoughts; taking a small amount of comfort in the fact that he had done his best for his adopted children. Truly. He had made mistakes. But he only had their best interests at heart. As any loving parent did for their children. He took in a shaky breath; ignoring the pressure that sat on his chest, that grew with each passing night. He shifted and laid on his back.

Fleeting images of Leonardo alone, frightened, injured passed through his mind and he did his best to brush them away. His son . . . his pride above all else. He would return safely to them, and when he did, he would be stronger for his experiences. Even if Leonardo never forgave him, he thought with a pang of regret, he and his brothers would eventually see that Splinter's decision was for the best for everyone. One day, they would understand and appreciate what he had done.

In the meantime, he only had to balance the righteousness of his decision with his regret. As all parents carried their regrets alongside their triumphs, did they not?

A/N: So this is the final regular chapter with an epilogue coming this week to wrap up Part 2 of The Tender Trap. You know I've got to give you one last peek into Leonardo and Karai's future, right? XD I won't leave ya hanging! Well, just for a couple days, then you get the last bit of this story! YAY!

Wow, I just have to say that I love you all and your words of support have really boosted my self-confidence as a writer. For everyone who favorited, followed(silently or with reviews) and those who took the time to leave reviews, gosh, just with all my heart, I thank you. I hope you have all enjoyed this roller coaster ride I put you on. I know there's been good and bad but hopefully in the end, you've enjoyed your time spent reading this.

NEW: I have started my very dark and disturbing story, What Makes a Father - it is my promised tale featuring turtle tots, a scared and very lost Hamato Yoshi who eventually becomes the Splinter you all know and love and one nasty, evil villain who takes in the turtles and "raises" them for the first years of their lives. See the story description for more info. And yes, I, too, am 'making amends' to my sweet Rat-Dad for depicting him so damn harsh and strict and even in some reader's opinions, positively EVIL in my recent stories! (eg., Don't Wait for Me, heehee)

So, if you're ready for a thrilling tale full of intensity and fright go check it out and leave a review! Oh yeah, the plot is obviously an AU story with my typical blend of characteristics from all the incarnations and is rated M just to be safe.

Don't forget to hit the Follow/Favorite button and follow me to keep up with all my updates and new stories! I love you guys! xo