Wow, almost a year later, and here we are. Is anybody still keeping tabs on this?

Time goes so fast, you guys. I feel like all I ever do is apologize on here, but again, I'm so sorry for the hiatus. A lot of changes have occurred in my personal life. I have less than a year of medical school left, and I got married to the love of my life in July! We actually ran away and eloped, if you can believe it, haha. Too much family drama! Needless to say, life has been pretty hectic the last year.

I know many of you thought I had forgotten about this story, but I assure you, I think on it a lot. Like, a lot a lot. I've actually been working on the chapter for a few months, but it has been extremely slow. It's just hard to find the time and energy to write, what with school and hospital shifts and a marriage to tend to. So anyway, this isn't the whole thing. Maybe about a third of what I have planned for this chapter. But I figured something is always better than nothing, and I wrote this up in my Pharmacology class today instead of listening to the teacher. Because, you know, cardiac function isn't the most captivating subject. Also I had some readers mention that even a paragraph would be worth posting, and while I think you all deserve much more than a paragraph, I don't have the whole thing done yet, so this will have to do.

Enjoy this little snippet, guys! And please, let me know how all of you are doing, if you're still tuned into this story! What direction do you think this will take? What would you want it to take? I don't know, I just miss you all and would love some feedback so I can see if people are still reading this. I would love to finish this story someday, I just hope it's worth all of the waiting!

Thank you to all of my readers who are willing to put up with me and all my crap! You guys are awesome :)

Chapter Twenty-One:

{Raph}

"Man, Splinter must be working them into the floor!"

Casey laughs somewhere behind me, bouncing a wet, worn-out soccer ball Mikey found in a dumpster from the AC unit to the brick wall of the roof stairwell with loud clangs and thuds. "They're gonna be grounded for the rest of their lives."

They both snicker and joke and toss the ball around, but the black and red in my skull quickly blocks them out. I sit on the edge of the building, feet dangling over the street—over the lights and honking cars and clusters of nightlife, drinking and having fun and pretending the whole world isn't a wasteland of problems and disappointment.

"…tonight, Raph?"

"What?" I glance back at Mikey and smack the ball away as he tries to hit the back of my head.

He catches it and rolls his eyes. "What do you wanna do tonight, bonehead?"

"Nothing with you two idiots," I grumble. Honestly, I just want to sit here and do absolutely—

Wait.

Something catches the corner of my eye. A shadow slipping through the alleyway below, silent and dark against the noisy street-life.

I get to my feet when I see the form vanish beneath one of the manhole covers.

"I'm going for a walk," I mutter. "I'll see you guys later."

"Come on, Raph!" Casey groans. "How long are you gonna piss and moan about this?"

"Yeah, man, just hang out with us and enjoy something for once!"

I don't even look back before hopping over the edge of the roof and scaling down the fire escape. I can hear them complaining above me, but I don't care. I'm itching for distraction, something to punch or break—anything to ease the pressure inside my skull and shut the voices out. Down the rungs, hit the asphalt, blood buzzing, I make sure the alley is clear before darting toward the manhole cover and sliding under.

The surface becomes silent, completely shut out by the heavy metal lid and the dark, echoing tunnels around me. My mind immediately quiets, comforted by the darkness, by the pitter patter of dripping water and faint rumbles above.

Home.

I stop at the end of the ladder, close my eyes, and listen. All the familiar sounds become one in my head, vanishing into the back of my thoughts. And then I hear it—footsteps. Soft, swift, barely there, but my trained ears catch the slip of each step along the slimy concrete walkways.

I move through the tunnels, hands on my sai, focused and silent. It doesn't take more than a minute to track down the footsteps, and when I do, the black starts to bubble at the edges of my mind.

I knew it.

"The shell do you think you're here?" I snap.

She whirls around, eyes wide, tanto drawn in a split second. I stomp toward her, lip curled, knuckles white around the hilt of my sai. Her expression wavers—she even takes a tiny step back.

"It's none of your business." Her voice sounds normal, all nonchalant and full of attitude, but there's something different in her eyes—a fracture in that confidence and apathy that makes her so obnoxious.

My brow furrows. "You're on my turf, princess—I think that makes it my business."

She puts the length of her sword between us when I get too close. I scoff and catch the blade in the prong of my sai, shoving her into the wall beside us.

She has the nerve to give me that stupid little smirk. "In a bad mood, Raphael?"

I lean my weight into her until she winces, and up close I can see that our last encounter formed a small scar above her lip. I'm disappointed she still has all her teeth.

"You remember what I said last time I saw you?" I ask lowly.

Her nostrils flare as she tries to wriggle away from the arm that's crushing into her chest. "Not really," she grunts. "Something dumb, I'm sure."

I twirl my sai in my free hand and have it against her neck in an instant. Her pupils constrict ever so slightly, but the rest of her remains still.

"I said I'd get you back. Remember?" More weight, more pressing. I can see her throat working while she struggles to take a breath. "That night, on the roof."

The memories come flooding in. The darkness, the worry, wondering where my stupid brother ran off to and then finding him with her. Finding him cornered, bleeding, drugged—right before he fell off the building and broke half his body. Having to drag him back home, how limp he felt…

And now he's not even him anymore.

I clench my eyes shut as the rage takes over.

"You almost killed him."

Again, her eyes shift, a sad flicker in the gold.

"I was trying to help," she presses, her voice squeezing out from her. "I had it—he was safe—"

"Safe!?" I scoff, jamming my elbow into her gut. She grimaces and tries to double over, but I hold her against the wall. "He wasn't safe with you! He's never been safe with you! You've been nothing but trouble for all of us, especially my idiot brother! You and your nutjob followers sent him over the roof!"

Her gaze locks onto mine, defiant and pained and a million other things, shattered and glued together. "That was your fault."

And then she takes that, that tiny instant of surprise, of hesitation, where I can't decide whether to choke her out or just snap her neck. She takes that moment, slips her hand between us, and lands a palm-strike up into my jaw. I swear, vision blotching and face tingling, and before I know it she's rolling out under my legs and making a run for it.

I cloud over. Black and white and red—pluming like ink and staining my insides. Muscles taut, blood rushing, I tear after her through the tunnel.