Chapter Eight:

April stirred in her sleep.

Someone was calling her name.

"Wake up!"

She peeled her eyes open, and sat up. The moonlight dimly lit her room and she searched for the voice. Her eyes felt too big for her head and her stitches ached.

"April!"

A chill ran down her spine as she turned toward the door. Her chest felt tight.

"D-Don?" He walked slowly over, crouching next to her. "Donnie," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. With a shaking hand, she reached out to him. He leaned into her touch. "How…?"

"I need your help," he said, an oddly serious tone coloring his words. He stood abruptly as she stared at him in disbelief. Had it all been some sick nightmare? Some awful delusion? A sick joke her mind played on her?

"But how-how are you here? What happened?"

He looked at the floor.

And then it hit her. Like a cargo train.

This isn't real.

"Oh," she huffed, feeling her lungs forgetting how to work. Her throat felt tight. He looked pityingly down at her, his eyes filling with tears. His jaw clenched and she could tell he was holding something back. Before she could get a word out, he spoke up again.

"There's not a lot of time. I need your help."

"O-okay. What is it?" she asked, though it pained her to do so. Whatever it was, she had to roll with the punches until she woke up, right? Just like every other dream. He wasn't real. This wasn't real. He had been reduced to only a dream now… She shoved the thought away, grabbing handfuls of the sheets.

"Do you remember the story of the twin brothers?" She blinked. "The tale Dad used to tell us. About instinct."

She felt herself scrambling to find it in her foggy, messy mind. He stepped forward, ready to help her. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

"They were-gaah!"

He suddenly doubled over, clutching his side as blood poured through his fingers. He toppled to the ground and she lept from the bed.

"Donnie! Donnie!"

The coppery scent stung her nose and she put his head on her lap. She placed her hand over his, but there seemed to be no source of bleeding anywhere. It coated her hand, like a fountain of warm water. His head was bleeding too, staining her pajamas. He felt cold in her arms and he shook as he tried to talk.

"April. Remember the twins. I n-need…" Donatello slurred the last word as his eyes rolled back and his jaw went slack.

"No! No, no, no, Don!" she sobbed.

She sprung awake, sweat coating every inch of her body. Her face was sticky with tears.

"It wasn't real, it wasn't real, it wasn't real," she whispered, her face getting hot again as she cried into her hands. With every hiccup and every sob, her side ached. But no matter how many times she tried to stop, she couldn't. All at once, an onslaught of fear and grief came over her, making it hard to breathe. He was there. He was standing right there.

But, there were no blood stains on the floor. It wasn't real. Her heart twisted at the thought of him, lying there on the floor, and she couldn't take it anymore. The walls were closing in and she needed to get the hell out of there. Slowly, she got up, using anything she could for support. The walls were cool to the touch, making her shiver as she slinked toward the door. Her arm shook as she held onto the door handle, but she opened it anyway. The air in the hallway was cold, hitting her like a wall. The banister was only about a foot and a half away. April shuffled to it, nearly tripping on the way, using it to guide her to the bathroom. It was still early. The sun was barely up, so she'd have the house to herself for at least a little while. She quietly shut the door behind her, locked it, and made her way to the tub. She bent to turn the knob, wincing as her stitches strained. Unhurriedly, she peeled her sweat-drenched clothes off and tossed them to the floor. She got rid of her bandages. They needed to be changed anyway, she told herself. She thought of him again, cold and shaking in her arms, and nearly jumped into the shower, immediately reaching for the soap. She had to wash it away. Because no matter how many times she told herself it was a dream, it felt so real. And she could still feel the blood underneath her fingernails and the feeling of his head lolling out of her hands. April stretched her arm out, lathering soap all over, when her hand accidentally knocked the shampoo loose. It clattered to the floor, but when she bent to pick it up, her stitches pulled at the sensitive skin around them, and she cringed, sucking in a harsh breath. The sudden movement caused her to lose her footing and she slipped, hitting her head against the edge.

Leonardo shivered and pulled the sleeping bag up to his chin. The fire had long gone out, but he couldn't sleep. He listened to the sounds of the forest, his hand inching toward his katana. It was foolish of him to just walk out like that. He wasn't prepared- not like he should've been. In the morning, he would have to-

"Leonardo."

The turtle leaped up, drawing his weapon, but paused. Before him was…

"Sensei." Sliding it back into place, he bowed. He bowed back. "What-"

"I have come to give you a message, my son."

"You… you have?" He stepped closer.

"Yes." He put a hand on his shoulder, and Leo clenched his jaw. It felt so real. Why did it feel so- "Focus, my son." Leonardo blinked.

"H-hai."

"As long as the Hamato name lives, The Shredder will not stop. Oroku Saki is a broken man. He has let evil take over his entire life, his spirit. And while the darkness in him does threaten all you hold dear, you are stronger than you might think, my son. But you must believe it. The weaker you become, the stronger he does. And so, you must end what I could not."

"But what if I… He's taken everything. You, my brothers, our home. How can I-"

"NO!" he shouted. "No, enough! He has played his games. It is time to put an end to his madness! As long as you live, he will never stop. He will always strive to take whatever you have, so long you both walk this earth. Do you understand, Leonardo?" Splinter was gripping his arms tight, and he looked at the ground.

"Hai, Sensei."

When he looked back up, the rat was gone.

He sprang awake in his sleeping bag, sweating and panting. The morning was still cold, and the ground was damp. The sun was just beginning to rise; above him birds chirped the song of a new day, and he knew what he had to do.

Mikey woke up, feeling the pain in his neck before he even tried to move it. Sleeping on the couch was not a good idea. Not with the nightmares… He glanced around the living room, and Leo was nowhere to be found. Something felt off, and he started to get worried. It was still early. And a storm was rolling in. A dark, intimidating cloud loomed in the distance, and he shuddered. Today already felt like a bad day, and he'd barely opened his eyes. As he started to shuffle into the kitchen, he noticed the shower was on. Maybe he decided to wash up, he thought, when there was a loud thud and a crash. Immediately, he bounded up the stairs, to find April's door wide open and no sign of her. When he tried the door, it was locked. And the panic set in.

"April!" he shouted. "Answer me! Are you alright?" He yanked at the handle again, nearly pulling it free from the door. There still was no answer. So, he used his shell to slam against the door. The wood splintered, but it still didn't open. Panicking, he backed up, and ran full force toward it, jutting his leg out. It toppled in, halfway off it's hinges, and he went to the tub. Oh, God, there's blood. There's lots of blood, he thought.

"April. April look at me." Her eyes moved rapidly beneath her lids, and she groaned. Her head drooped, and he saw a nasty gash near her hairline. The movement exposed her side, where her stitches had come apart. He grabbed a towel, and set it beside him, as he tapped lightly on her face. "C'mon, c'mon. Wake up!" Her eyes fluttered then, as she suddenly woke. Her hand gripped his arm so hard, it drew blood, and the look in her eyes made him sick to his stomach.

"Donnie!" she said.

She felt cold.

When her eyes opened, the air in the room shifted, and she felt a breeze waft over her. The water rolled down her skin, over her goosebumps, and she tried to sit up.

"Don't move. You'll only make it worse."

She gulped.

He was there again.

"D-"

"Shh, it's okay. Just don't move."

Warm tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. He knelt beside her, swallowing hard.

"I miss you," she half-whispered.

His jaw clenched.

"I miss you too."

He cleared his throat and stood again.

"Did you remember?" She blinked. "The story? About the twins?"

"I-I don't… no, I couldn't-I'm sorry." He sighed frustratedly and her eyebrows knit together. "Can't you just tell me-"

"It's not that simple!" he snapped. Don pinched the space between his eyes and took a deep breath. "April… There is a reason I'm here. It would be so much easier if I could just tell you, but I can't. You have to remember."

"B-but. Donnie, I don't understand-"

His face twisted in pain, as his hand flew to his side. Blood gushed out of him, and he fell to the floor.

"N-not again! No, I need more time!" he shouted, his body shaking on the floor. She scooted herself to the edge of the tub, attempting to reach for him. He laid there with his hand outstretched, and covered in blood. They locked eyes as he let out a final breath.

Her eyes flew open, and she lurched forward, grabbing his arm.

"Donnie!" she gasped.

But it wasn't him.

Staring at her, was Michelangelo, his eyes wide with confusion. April felt the hot heat of embarrassment crawl up her neck, and she attempted to cover herself up. The movement made her neck move, when a sudden jolt of pain was sent down her spine. She winced, and touched her head. Warm blood coated her fingers.

"We have to get you up," he said, his arm jutting out with a towel. He looked at the floor, his cheeks rosy beneath his mask. Mikey reached in and pulled her out, wrapping her in the towel and helping her sit on the toilet cover. She felt sick to her stomach. April there is a reason I'm here. The air went stale with judgement as she sat there; Michelangelo was cleaning the utensils to fix her stitches and clean her wounds. You have to remember. He stood before her, using one hand to tilt her chin, the other to clean her up.

"What were you doing, April?"

"What do you mean? I-"

"You called me D-" he gulped. "Donnie."

"A dream," she muttered. "It was a… dream. Just a…" Her lip quivered, and she looked down at her legs, pink lines running down them. The towel around her was stained red. He patched her head- luckily she didn't need stitches -and helped her stand. "What are-"

"I'm gonna get you some clothes. And that way," he grunted, putting her weight on him. "I can stitch you up…" She let out a breath through her nose, holding onto the towel. When they made their way into the hallway, she looked over to see Casey standing in his doorway on his crutches, looking distressed.

"Everything's fine, Case," Michelangelo said. "Go get some rest."

"She's bleeding," he said, his voice raspy and wavering.

"Everything's fine."

She looked over at him pityingly and saw the grief paint his now grey-colored features. He didn't look well. Not at all. Something about him was different. Like he was the shell of Casey Jones, but the insides had been vacuumed out. She shuddered.

They closed the door behind them, and shuffled to her bed. As soon as she was settled, he left quickly and came back with supplies. He went straight to her drawers. She felt light-headed, bewildered. You have to remember.

"Um, April, which-"

"I don't care."

"Okay…" Michelangelo rooted through her drawers until he could find what he was looking for, finally settling on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. She'd have to deal with the undergarments he picked out (he knew from years of hanging out with her that they weren't her favorites, which is why she left them at the farmhouse). When he turned to her, he sighed. She looked pale and scared; her features were sunken in. He walked over, touching a hand to her shoulder. Her eyes slowly met his and he smiled. He held up the clothes and she nodded ever-so-slightly. He was easily able to slip them on. It didn't quite bother him as much anymore. When they'd first gotten there, he was hesitant. And it wasn't like she could've given him permission. It took her weeks to even wake up. Mikey was sure she was embarrassed still, so he did what he could to make her comfortable. She sucked in a breath as he began to take the old stitches out, and he winced. April stared distractedly at the ceiling for most of it. Even as he pierced the needle through her skin. As he finished the last stitch, she tried to move.

"No. Wait. I have to dress it."

She sighed.

"He's been in my dreams," she said suddenly. He looked up at her.

"Mine too," he replied. He put the patch over her newly stitched wounds, and slowly helped her into a sitting position. As her head popped through her shirt he spoke up. "How 'bout some tea?"

She nodded.

He effortlessly held her weight against him as they made their way downstairs. He sat her in a chair and reached for the kettle. "Mikey… do you remember the story about the twins? The one Splinter used to tell us?"

"You mean the one where they were in battle together and got separated?"

"Yes!" she said a little too excitedly.

"Um, yeah… why?"

"I just- I can't remember it…"

"So these twin brothers were two of the most fierce warriors in Japan. No one could defeat them. Literally, anyone. People came from all over the country, and they all lost. Well, this huge army comes in, posing a threat to not just their village, but the whole continent. The two fought together, but after an explosion, and a landslide, they got separated. For days, neither of them knew where the other was; but they both knew the other was alive. They just knew." The kettle began to whistle, and he took it off the stove, pouring them each a cup. He set the tea bag in hers and put a bit of honey in it.

"One brother, while fighting, felt a mysterious pain in his leg, and something told him it was his brother. Years before, the same thing had happened when they were kids; he had fallen and broken an arm, which his brother felt. And he was right. His leg had been badly wounded in battle and he was fighting off an infection. So the uninjured brother sat down in the middle of the fight and began to meditate. No harm came to him- not even a scratch -and he searched for his brother. Finally, after almost an entire day with no food or water, a vision flashed before him; his brother was barely alive, hiding in the back of an abandoned medical center. He grabbed a couple soldiers and they journeyed to find him. When his brother asked how he could've located him, he replied 'Our connection goes beyond-"

He was cut off by her mug crashing against the linoleum. He jumped, looking at her and seeing tears in her eyes. Her hands were shaking.

"Oh my god," she whispered. "They're alive."

Hey guys! Sorry it took so long. I was really struggling with this chapter. I didn't want to make anything confusing- or obvious lol. Thanks for reading! Any comments/suggestions welcome!