This chapter gonna be a treat for all you Apriltello nerds! Enjoy! *squee*

And of course huge thanks to our beta readers Queequegg and Theherocomplex, we owe them a lot.


The lair was as quiet as Donnie had ever known it—a luxury for someone living in a home full of belligerent brothers. He could hear the faint murmur of traffic overhead and the sound of dripping water out in the tunnels. With the team gone to check on that warehouse, the absence of chatter and activity—and too often the cacophony of yelling and throwing of things—was almost eerie. It was perfect. Besides, Splinter had retired to meditate in his room, so he and April were pretty much all to themselves.

Having April at his side was as inspiring as working to his favorite song. They made the best lab team, and had worked together for so long that April's able hands and alert mind were like an extension of his own. He had been proud to learn that she was way ahead of the rest of her science class thanks to working together, as he had never missed a chance to teach her everything her avid mind was willing to take.

Looking back, Donnie had no idea how he'd remained sane for so many years without her, without someone to nerd-out with about science. He loved his family more than anything, but his brothers and father wouldn't touch a scientific subject with a six foot staff. He couldn't really believe it when April first started showing actual interest in what he had to say. If there was something she didn't understand, she didn't ask him to "dumb it down" for her. She asked for an explanation. She yearned to understand.

And yes, it was true April had caught his eye from the first second he had serendipitously spotted her in his peripheral vision, and he had felt irrevocably drawn to her; the stunning orange hair over pale freckled skin, blue eyes bright, attentive, and so intrepid. That first image of her was forever imprinted on his mind. He thought she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, walking the street with her head straight like a beacon in the mist, ready to take on the whole world by storm. And he'd gotten his share of mockery for saying it out loud... But it didn't matter what anyone said, because in the end, he knew all that beauty would not have amounted to anything if a minute later he'd found out she was dumb as a rock.

But that wasn't what happened.

Anyone could have a crush. The first time he had dropped a fun fact and she did not flinch away or roll her eyes, but actually carried the subject further, was the moment he fell in love; the moment he realized this girl—this beautiful, brave, human girl—was also the closest thing to an intellectual equal he had ever known, taking into account his usual company.

So having her here now, after what had felt like forever since they'd hung out, or even talked… He felt as though a little piece of the sun was sitting next to him at the lab desk—in the poetic sense, of course; actually having a piece of the sun near would burn him to a crisp in mere seconds, he thought to himself, and tried to come up with a more accurate analogy. April, you're the terrarium heat lamp that lights my days. Not quite as romantic...

Anyway, it felt even better than all that when he noticed her mood had improved greatly from the previous day. He absently caressed his own throat as he thought back to their last training exercise.

The entire school year had been a bit difficult on her, but these past few weeks had been particularly haywire. She had been scurrying away everyday with some justification or other, only dropping by for weekend training. Donnie had indeed noticed the missing warmth in his big empty lab, his only company being Timothy's blank, immobile stare, still frozen in his jar waiting for the retromutagen that Donnie had promised him so long ago.

There were still shadows under April's eyes that the light makeup couldn't quite conceal, but her demeanor was more relaxed, much livelier as she ranted on fervently about how much she hated the Kraang.

"Mutagen. Again. Are we never gonna get rid of the stuff? I swear if I see another Kraang I'm going to personally cram their own skulls up their butt."

"I don't think they even have butts," Donnie said thoughtfully, and set the old Kraang portable portal on the bench. Good thing he had kept it. Obviously Future Donatello already knew he would have it, and it was the main ingredient in the detailed recipe he had provided. "In fact, based on their physiology," he went on, "my first guess would be that they have a two-way digestive system."

April's nose wrinkled in a disgusted grimace.

"Then I'll cram it in the first hole I find," she continued gloomily, a snarl forming as though she were envisioning the moment of her retribution.

"Can you light the blowtorch, please? And get the chisels?" Donnie said methodically while propping the device between the clamps and tightening the grip, holding it firmly in place. He heard April rummage through some drawers, and a moment later she was beside him.

"Here you go," she said, her voice back to a sweeter tone.

"Thanks. Gloves." Donnie put on his pair and waited for April's confirmation.

"Check."

"Goggles?"

April adjusted hers and struck a pose like a model in a sunglasses commercial. "You know it."

"Awesome," he said, giving her a gloved thumbs up. "Let's hope this does it. Do you want the honors?"

April eagerly accepted the challenge. She sat on the stool, facing her objective and aiming the blowtorch fire at a seam in the metal casing where Donnie had indicated, and they waited. The alien alloy was tough, so it took a few minutes for the metal to acquire the desired glow, but April did a good job of keeping it steady.

"Alright, take your chisel," he said when the glow became white, and took the blowtorch from her to set it down at a safe distance. "Try to break through this part of the seam here."

When April had managed to get the tip of the chisel wedged between the two halves, Donnie took his own chisel and aimed it at a point further down the seam, tapping the back of the tool softly with the hammer.

"Hold there. Hold…"

Snap. The top half of the casing came off cleanly, and they both gave a cry of celebration.

The insides of the device were already familiar to Donnie, from deactivating Kraang bombs and bypassing security systems many a time in the past. Mikey would probably have a better hand with it than he could ever have—somehow—but the instructions on the blueprints should make it easy enough.

Heaving a sigh of satisfaction, Donnie took off his protective goggles and his gloves and watched his assistant do the same.

"Alright, first step: check! Thanks for the help, April. I'm glad you could come by today," he said then, which was a bit of an understatement.

"Me too, believe me," she sighed, and for a second there, she looked absolutely exhausted again. Thankfully the look was gone as quickly as it had come. "Oh, and my dad says hi back," she added.

"Cool! Tell him hi back… back." Smooth. He moved on quickly, trying to outrun any potential reactions, and took April's five-fingered gloves and the goggles from her to put them away in the drawer next to his. "How is he?"

"He was in a good mood this morning," April said, and Donnie was pleased to see a smile on her face—which, as a bonus, always made her twice as pretty.

So that's what it was, then. Not surprising; April was always worrying about her dad. It wouldn't be the first time April avoided him and his brothers for his sake. Donnie was no psychic, but it was more than obvious that anything having to do with Kirby, good or bad, she would soak up like a sponge. Kirby being in a good mood meant April was too.

"Really? That's great! And you finally found some leisure time," he probed wishfully, but April's mouth screwed into a slight grimace, already contradicting him before she even said anything.

"Eh. I wouldn't call it that. I actually brought homework." She pointed her thumb at the backpack lying on the corner by the garage door. "But it seems so trivial now with what's cooking here, I mean… Holy shit, Donnie, the future?" she exclaimed suddenly.

Donnie couldn't help himself. He squeaked, "I know, right!" and he didn't even care that his throat hurt, nor about sounding the least bit manly.

"And you got to talk to your future self! That must have been unreal!"

"My hands are still shaking!" he said, tittering. They were now face to face, April beaming and bouncing on her heels, and he realized she was only mirroring him. There really was nothing like being able to share such a thing with April and seeing her as excited as he felt.

She slid over to the workbench then with eager eyes.

"So this is what had you losing sleep these days," she said, peering curiously over some of the printed out blueprints on the desk, full of notes and scribbles, that he had been revising overnight.

Donnie shrugged, half dismissively, half apologetically, something that had become somewhat of a reflex every time someone mentioned his messed-up sleeping rhythm. "I just couldn't leave it! I was too hyper to sleep anyway."

"Being the son of Splinter, you'd think you'd have a better hang of turning off your
brain once in awhile."

Donnie stopped tidying up the mess to face April, quickly formulating a well devised reply. He tilted his head slightly in mock confusion.

"Why would I want to turn off my brain?"

April seemed taken aback by the question, eyebrows quirking as she responded sarcastically, "Um… to rest?"

Donnie blew a righteous huff of air. "Even when asleep, the brain is never off. If it's off, it's because you're dead—or, at the very least, severely brain-damaged.

April swat his shoulder, voice rising in pitch and volume. "You know what I meant! Why do you have to do that all the time?" she spat, arms crossed, but Donnie could see the start of a smile in that little quiver of her lips.

"Hey, I like to be accurate," he insisted haughtily, and turned to point a stern finger at April. "And I expect the same kind of precision from my lab apprentice!"

April's face scrunched into a tight pout, and she crossed her arms in a stubborn gesture."Yes, Master,"

"That's better," Donnie said, using his best maestro voice, even though he could barely keep a straight face anymore. "Now be a good lackey and fetch me my magnifying goggles."

She whipped her head rebelliously, but swivelled around and ambled off. "Just wait until the lackey union hears about this," she said into the closet loud enough for him to hear, and he answered without taking his eyes off his notes.

"Evil lackeys don't have unions."

Donnie heard the rustling and clanking of gadgets, and when he turned to look she was already coming back with purpose in her eyes, magnifying goggles in stock.

"Then I'm starting my own evil union."

"I think by definition you'd need more than one person for that, but since it's the thought that counts, then you shall suffer the full extent of the wrath of evil Dr. Hamato all the same," he countered smugly, with the lofty confidence of a despot and taking full advantage of his new voice.

April strutted up to him the last couple of steps, eyes narrowed and smile crooked.

"I wonder if Future Donatello is still this much of a dork…" she quipped and defiantly smacked the goggles into Donnie's waiting hand.

He in turn adopted a look of utter indignation. "I wonder if Future April is this much of a sassmouth," he retorted primly, one fist on his hip. With the other hand, he slipped on the goggles over his straight face with an overstated flourish.

Laughter had started to build, but then April's gaze got lost and they stood quietly for a beat, Donnie wondering what was going through her mind, as usual.

"You think we'll find out?" she asked at length, and there was an air of thrill to her demeanor. "Think we'll get to meet all our future selves?"

"Honestly, who knows? Kinda scary, though, when you think too much about it," Donnie confessed, something that had been bugging him in the back of his head since the previous night. He was, after all, an expert in overthinking.

April insisted, "So they really didn't mention me at all…?"

"No," he replied truthfully. "They barely said anything, really, they're kinda mysterious like that. The only ones I talked to are Mikey and myself, and someone else seemed to be there, but I don't know who… For all we really know, Mikey and I could be New York's only survivors," he joked, but laughter died in his chest before it had a chance to form.

Being reminded about the last conversation with Future Donatello, if it could even qualify as such, sent a shiver trickling up his spine; the disquieting secrecy, the warning about that mysterious pendant, the mention of Karai... As he tried not to think about all the things that can go wrong in the span of ten years, he realized he had trailed off into an unsettled silence.

But to his relief, April didn't look so much worried as curious. "So, uh, did you happen to keep those conversations?" she asked, gracefully saving him the task of coming up with an elegant way out. He realized he had his goggles on, and he pushed them up over his forehead, knowing the magnifying lenses were none too flattering.

"Yeah."

"Can I read them?"

"Sure!" Donnie said kindly, stepping over to his computer to browse for the text file, but only showed her the first conversation just as he and Leo had agreed. There was no need for anyone else to worry about Karai right now.

"There you go."

April sat down in Donnie's wheeled office chair and he made to continue taking the portal apart while she read. He slid his magnifying goggles back on and got to work picking out the various parts and orderly setting them aside.

"Ship of the Imagination," she said softly after a bit, and cast an amused glance at him. Donnie shrugged sheepishly, and she went back to reading, her eyes so close to the monitor now that he almost felt the need to give her a pamphlet on proper computer desk posture.

A couple minutes later, as he was disassembling a few circuits he heard the chair creak. April was against the backrest, regarding the screen with an incredulous smirk.

"Oh, my God," she said, huffing. "I'm not sure I would have believed him."

Donnie laughed. "Oh, I had my doubts too, right up until I took a look at these." He pulled his goggles up to rest on his head and picked up a couple of papers from the desk, flicking them in the air. He put them back down to stare in awe, contrasting the blueprints' designs with the Kraang device. The apparatus lay open and gutted like a fresh kill on the workbench. April rolled herself over on the chair and leaned forward to scrutinize the mess.

"Just look. You see these crystals?" He pointed a forefinger at the geometric looking objects of sharp edges and a deep violet tint. April watched, a little wrinkle of concentration forming on her brow. "They're the main component of the portal, they are what refracts the very fabric of space-time, curving it, like… like light through a glass prism. Remarkable." Donnie took a long moment to marvel at the ingenuity of the device. Such a complex concept, yet such a simple, elegant design. "You gotta hand it to those Kraang, they really are lightyears ahead."

April's mouth became an obstinate straight line. "Yeah, well, I still hate them."

"Oh, sure," Donnie conceded distractedly. "And Future Donatello… He managed to reverse engineer this piece of complex alien technology and modify it to suit his needs. I mean, I've had my fair share of encounters with Kraang technology, and those were complicated enough, but this… It's not just that he managed to find us—this one teeny tiny peephole roaming around across the universe, that would lead him to our specific time and place, it's— You know wormholes haven't even been proven by modern human science, right? And these notes…" Donnie grasped for the stool and pulled it over without looking, to sit next to April. "I barely even have to think; it looks like Future Donatello has done that for me. All I have to do is repurpose a few circuits, build a couple of new components and the wormhole will do the rest. This thing will even run on the energy emitted by the hole itself, which is genius because it means skipping the hassle of finding a proper power source!"

"That's green energy right there," April contributed.

"Yes! And, and Future Donatello, man, he must have been working on this for months, nonstop, probably built a program for that sole purpose, and probably hacked into some observatory to use their super telescopes—that's what I would do, at least, if I had to find this, this needle in a haystack—or like in all the haystacks in all the state of, I dunno, Texas..."

"That does sound like Donatello…" April said, and he lifted his eyes at the sneer in her voice to see her bemused grimace.

He was only now realizing how out of breath he was from all that talking, and he chuckled, flustered. "Sorry, I'm rambling."

"Yeah, you are," she agreed, nodding around her little lopsided smirk. "But don't worry, it's completely justified."

Donnie suppressed a sigh, and instead managed to smile to himself, taking comfort in April's proximity, and her look of interest as she examined the papers upon papers scattered across the bench, even though she probably couldn't understand but a fraction of it. Her face when she was concentrated —the little wrinkle in her brow, the slight pucker in her lips. Even to this day, he would often catch himself unintentionally staring when all was quiet between them, and he averted his eyes when he realized that's exactly what he was doing right now.

Still, she needed to know—and he needed to say it. He took a deep breath and hoped his voice wouldn't betray him.

"You know, you must be the only person who will sit through my science ramblings and not act like they're being tortured," he said softly, his voice cutting through the silence and she laughed, a tilt of her head that could very well translate into pity.

"Well, my dad's a scientist too, right? I pretty much grew up with his science ramblings. Brings back good memories."

Donnie carefully gauged her expression as she leaned to get a closer look of the portal, a gentle smile on her lips as if the thought made her happy. A bubbly warmth spread through Donnie's middle. "Really?"

"Yeah. Besides, it can be pretty educational."

I love you, thought Donnie, stopping himself just in time from saying it out loud, and praying her psychic powers hadn't suddenly evolved telepathic abilities.

This is what he was talking about; she got him. He wished he could tell her how much that meant to him.

"Future Donatello sounds pretty cool," April commented thoughtfully, twisting to look over at the computer screen where the text was still displayed, and Donnie felt a new wave of tickles in his stomach.

"Do I? He? Does he?" he stammered. It would appear the English language isn't made for time travel, he thought, and April seemed to agree, with a somewhat less pathetic imitation of his jabberings.

"Yeah, can't wait to meet him—or you, or whatever," she said, laughing, and Donnie saw it: a flash of purple among orange as she turned back to the table. A few strands were coming loose from her yellow hairband, and now he couldn't look away. He decided to brave it.

"Hey, I didn't get the chance to mention it yesterday; you colored your hair," he said quietly with an air of nonchalance.

"Oh! Yeah, it's just a streak."

Donnie watched, entranced, as she gracefully tucked the strand behind her ear. She was smiling, eyes intent on the blueprints—but fixed, so not reading. Interesting...

"I like it," he said timidly, his brain working to find meaning to all the little signs. "I wanna say regalia?"

April tapped her nose.

"I knew it!" he exclaimed. "It's one of my favorite shades of purple. Fun fact: according to color theory, yellow and orange are what you'd call split complementaries of purple. That's why they work so well together."

She turned towards him again, slowly, as he finally heard himself saying those words and desperately tried to make amends.

"Uh, of course, by that I mean your streak."

"Mm-hm." She nodded, one eyebrow raised.

"That it looks good with your shirt and your hair," he specified. Just in case.

"Orange and purple do make a great team."

Donnie would not have been able to take his eyes off her if the ceiling caved down on them, as he felt her small hand patting his forearm and his skin became ablaze with the heat of a thousand stars.

That goodnight hug in the alley near Murakami's came rushing back to mind. The sensations washed over him, cramming his imagination full of whys and what-ifs, and once again Donnie found himself wondering. Hoping. And he didn't want to hope.

"You know, maybe I should get out my homework."

Donnie started a little, April's movement leaning away from the table yanking his thoughts back to the present. He winced to himself when he realized he had just been standing there like an idiot, gawking at her and barely breathing. But what else was new, right?

"Yes! Of course, homework's important. Don't worry about this, I can manage on my own for a while," he said hurriedly, motioning at his table packed full of papers and pieces of Kraang tech and resisting the urge to bonk his head against it. She had been so enthusiastic to participate at first, and he had to go and screw it up by making it awkward.

"Oh, but I'll be right here though," April said, and patted the wooden surface next to the portal. "I said I'd help, right? So just say the word and I'll give you a hand with whatever, okay?"

He agreed with a smile, feeling mildly relieved. "Will do."

And then there was something, a strange pause in which April just looked at him, her hand on the chair's rest. He thought he saw her lips twitch before she suddenly turned around and headed for the corner where her backpack lay. It had been quick, so much that Donnie couldn't even be sure that anything had happened at all.

He was no expert on reading people—machines and facts were his thing—but April proved to be most challenging sometimes. Is she uncomfortable? he wondered with a pinch of panic, peeking from the corner of his eyes while gathering a couple of chips and other components for the next phase. She must be feeling uncomfortable, especially if she can feel… if she can sense…

While Donnie urged himself to focus on his work, April returned with her backpack and set up shop at the other end of the table, spreading her textbooks and sheets across the wooden surface. When she didn't sit to work, Donnie lifted his eyes from his task to see her standing with her hands on her hips.

"I think I'll go get me some coffee," she said, looking over her homework as though preparing for a long hike up a mountain, and clearly not too excited about the prospect.

That's when the sound of an engine coming closer tore them both from their current preoccupations. Two seconds later a set of tires screeched to a halt at the other side of the garage door, announcing the team's early arrival. Donnie exchanged a look with April—sounds like mission failure—as a group of voices and footsteps made its way through the lair.

"I'll go ask what's up while I'm on it," April offered, and her smile helped loosen the nervous knot that had formed in his gut. "I know you just had breakfast, but do you want some coffee?"

"You know I can never say no to coffee," Donnie said, grateful.

She nodded, and was off.

He turned covertly to watch her go, still wondering. Still wishing.

Don't do that. Don't daydream, he told himself as he forced his mind to focus on his project.


In retrospect, April should've probably stayed at home if she really wanted to finish her homework anytime soon. But how was she supposed to know today would get so interesting?

She took a deep breath and released it in a sigh of content as she climbed down the steps to the common room. Nothing kept the blues at bay like feeling useful, and that was never a question with Donnie. She could still feel him—his candid, somewhat withheld attention for her, a warm tingle originating behind her eyes, radiating down her neck to fill her chest. It was a familiar feeling, one that had disturbed her at first because she could neither understand nor return it. But now it felt good. It made her feel like she mattered.

Usually she kept her psychic abilities on a leash, as she was still learning to control them. Not to mention, however useful they proved at times, they still reminded her of what she was. And frankly she wasn't sure it was completely ethical, peeking into people's minds like that. But sometimes, just to try, she would set those abilities lose, and let them run through the field, and they would pick up the most curious sensations for her. Today she had done this, and aside from the already established adoration emanating from her friend to her, she had also found herself waist deep in a refreshing pool of scientific zeal. It was the feeling of Donnie's mind when he was at his best, immersed in some particularly exciting new project. She liked being near when that happened.

She was so glad she decided to come, she had almost forgotten about her fight with her father, or the reason behind it —almost, she thought, remembering that brief moment in the lab when she suddenly wanted to… Well, even she didn't know what she would have done or said, but it didn't matter anyway. Just a minor lapse.

Still it never ceased to amaze her, how much better she felt the second she walked past the turnstiles to join her strange family, where she could be her strange self and nobody would ever judge her for it. At least when she was here, she could stop pretending. She tried to hold on to this feeling, wishing she could fasten it tight around herself so it would never go away.

On her way to the kitchen she crossed paths with Leo, who seemed to be just back from parking the Party Wagon. The others must have already been through there. Mikey's muffled singing in the distance confirmed it.

"You guys back already? Any luck?" she asked Leo.

"Nothing. The docks were too busy, we couldn't go in," he replied like that had been exactly what he had expected. "No Purple Dragons either, though. We'll just have to try again after dark."

April nodded, then Leo continued towards the dojo, no doubt to inform Splinter, and she headed for the kitchen.

The fridge door closed just as April stepped through the drapes and Karai spun around to look at her holding a can with Japanese print on it.

"Hey there, princess," she sang.

April shot Karai a jaded look, but smiled, already so very used to her teasing.

"Hello, Karai," she said with overstressed formality, walking past her to the coffee maker atop the counter. "Leo says you had no luck."

Karai did a vain little roll with her shoulders. "I already knew it was going to be a waste of time, but I needed some fresh air."

"What are you drinking?"

"Wasabi soda," Karai replied, pulling the tab, and the can opened with a hiss. "It's imported. I got it from Murakami. Guy was really cool about it, I can never find these anywhere. Wanna try some?"

"Wasabi soda?" April's nose crinkled with uncertainty, detecting a faint smell of the stuff. "Uhh… Maybe next time, Karai. Right now I think I'd rather keep my stomach lining. But thanks!"

As she poured the ground coffee into the filter, she could see Karai taking one step towards the exit, about to leave. Then, Karai stopped and sat on one of the stools instead, and said conversationally, "So you and Donnie are working on that portal thing, huh? Pretty exciting."

"Yeah, you should see the stuff Donnie showed me. It's amazing!"

"Not really my thing, science. I'll leave that to you two nerds."

"I thought you'd know better than to mock the nerds," April joked as she filled the machine with water and turned it on, but inside she was waiting for Karai's next move which was sure to come. She could sense it—the sword's shadow before it struck. When April turned, there was the tiniest twinkle in Karai's eyes, before she tipped the can to take a sip, that had nothing to do with the current small talk.

April went to the cabinet and took out two mugs, then went for the sugar, keeping herself busy—until Karai set the can on the table with a sound like a starting pistol and leaned forward like a jockey. "So while I was working on my new armor in Donnie's lab the other day, he and I were talking…"

Uh-oh, there it is. Where are you going with this? April thought as she turned to face Karai.

"He told me about that music box he made you."

April blanched. The music box… That was certainly something she hadn't thought about in some time. In fact, she tried not to, mainly to avoid the feelings of shame and the horrible, gut twisting guilt.

"Oh. He did, huh?" she said, hoping to sound like the proud owner of said music box, and she leaned back on the counter trying not to give herself away. Karai's tone was too friendly...

"Yeah, it sounded nice. I'd love to see it. You still have it?"

"Uh, sure. It's at home," April lied quickly. "But I'd rather not move it, you know. It's a bit big and kinda delicate."

The lie was propped on a scaffolding made of toothpicks and glue. If Karai decided that she wanted to see the music box, then April was all but screwed.

Just as she feared, Karai's lips started twisting into a wicked smile and April gulped, her mouth suddenly very dry.

"Save it, April," Karai said at last through her smug grin. "I know you don't have it."

"What? What do you mean?" April said, hopelessly holding on to her brittle lie even when she knew it was a losing game. Because this was Karai, and Karai liked to play, and she could just be making everything up so April would spill.

But then Karai said, "Donnie has it. It was in his closet," and April frowned in thought, because she hadn't expected that. Karai's voice had sounded almost sweet before she took another sip of her drink, eyes peering at April over the can.

"He- He has it? How-?" April said, unable to hide her bewilderment.

That was not true, it couldn't be. It had to be one of Karai's little games, and April chastised herself when she realized she had fallen right into her trap, admitting to the crime before even knowing what she was being charged with. If that was it, she had no idea what Karai could ever hope to achieve with a cruel joke such as this. Donnie didn't have it. That music box was lost, back at the farmhouse. Wasn't it?

"Well, he says you didn't want it and he took it back," Karai started to say and April gaped in disbelief, "but knowing you two, I had a hunch it might have been some kind of misunderstanding, so I thought I'd play you for a bit and find out. You guys are too cute, seriously... "

It took April a moment to notice the sound of the coffee brewing at her back. She turned to make sure the pot was in place, taking the opportunity to collect herself, and her heart skipped a beat when she realized what this meant. If what Karai said was true, then… Oh, man.

"I knew that had to be it," Karai said merrily behind her, and April could hear the smirk in her voice. "You thought you had lost Donnie's gift, didn't you? And now it's totally a romantic comedy!"

The burn of embarrassment rose in April's throat, spreading through her cheeks like wildfire. She turned back to Karai and cast her a demanding glare.

"How do you know about this?"

Karai shrugged one shoulder, obviously completely at ease with everything, soda can dangling loosely from one hand.

"It wasn't so much that Donnie told me about it and more like I accidentally found it in his closet. You should've seen his face, poor guy," she chuckled, and the sound sent a fleeting jolt of anger through April. "Anyway, I put two and two together. You didn't seem the type to just reject something like that."

"I didn't reject it. Well… not exactly... I mean, the music box was a bit much…" April confessed, and she couldn't help cringing at the memory of that day. So awkward...

"Yeah, that's what I told him," Karai laughed, but April didn't care anymore that Karai couldn't hold a conversation without making a joke out of everything. All her thoughts were on Donatello now, her heart shrivelling as she imagined what this must have meant to him.

"Oh, no… Poor Donnie…" April sunk into one of the stools and covered her eyes. "All this time I thought I'd lost it, and it turns out he'd just taken it back. He must've thought I hated it."

"Didn't you?"

"No!" April cried, and slapped a hand over her mouth, praying nobody heard that. She whispered at Karai, "I mean, I didn't love the gift itself, but… I didn't want him to think that I hated it, so I didn't tell him that I'd lost it. It must have killed him that I didn't even seem to miss it after he took it back… Oh, this is terrible!" April buried her face in her hands, muffling her groans of anguish into her palms. Stupid!

"So now all you gotta do is tell him, right?" Karai said, and April lifted her gaze to find she was looking at her with something other than playfulness or mischief. Only a shadow of her previous smirk remained. April felt her arms prickle with Karai's alertness. She was expectant…

But April hesitated, casting her eyes towards the floor, thinking. Yes, of course. She had to explain this to Donnie. How she was going to go about it, she didn't know—hey, Donnie, funny story: remember that music box you thought I hated? But that music box was hers, she wanted it back! Of course she wanted it back! She felt a sudden thrill at the thought of revealing this to Donnie, how much relief it was going to bring him, and warm anticipation trickled up the back of her neck.

But then she reeled, because nothing was ever as simple, and if April was going to bring up the music box, then one topic was bound to lead to another, and suddenly she could find herself trying to explain certain recent… events. Was she ready to tell him everything? she wondered, and suddenly felt sick.

After all, was it really the right moment to bring up his gift to her? They were about to be visited by their future selves, and that was disquieting enough. Would it really help anybody if April started this conversation with Donnie now of all times, when everybody needed him at the top of his game? If she had only asked Donnie about the music box when she thought she'd lost it...

Remembering that she wasn't alone in the room, April looked up from the floor and met Karai's watchful eyes. She was still patiently awaiting her reply like a hawk, probably watching every little gesture and counting the goosebumps on April's arms.

"Um… Yeah, I will," April managed to say, and seeing the unconvinced look on Karai's face, she continued, "Not right now, but I will. Meanwhile, please, just don't say anything about this to anyone. Please."

Karai scoffed, and April felt the strongest urge to ask what the hell she meant by it. She only stopped herself because of the certainty that she would regret it.

"Why wouldn't you just tell him now? You got something to hide?" Karai asked, none too gently.

April was trying very hard not to go into certain subjects. Why did things have to get so complicated? She just wanted to get her ideas straight, see how it went with Casey, figure out some things with her dad before talking to Donnie or anyone. She still didn't even know what she was going to tell him on any of those fronts. She just needed time to think! Karai couldn't have waited just a week or two for this, could she?

"It's just not the best time for me," April said with finality.

"Does that mean you and Casey hooked up?" Karai asked suddenly, her grin turned wicked, and April felt herself riling up by the second.

"No, we did not hook up," she snapped, and bit back an incoming 'yet'.

"Really? Then what is the deal with you? You're honestly hard to figure out, and that's coming from me," Karai said in an air of sufficiency, then adopted a look of pity. "I can only imagine how the dudes feel."

April blew a loud guffaw. Out of all people, she had no right.

"You're one to talk, Karai," she said drily, and witnessed the immediate effect. Karai's grin drooped, all hint of humor draining from her face.

"Watch it, princess," she said, and the danger in her voice—that murderous glint in her eyes —almost put April into flight mode. Hell, if she had to choose between physically fighting the old Karai or being interrogated by the new Karai, she'd have to really think about it. Right now she felt like she was getting a combo of both.

Fine. If there was something April and Karai had in common, it was their bullheadedness. April returned the death glare and held it, held it, refusing to bow down.

And just when she thought Karai would have grabbed her by the throat next, a slow smile started to form on Karai's face. Suddenly she started laughing. She laughed loudly with that villainous laugh she hadn't quite grown out of yet, and April shook her head slowly in disbelief.

Well, at least she'd live to tell the tale…

"Nice death glare," Karai said jubilantly, punching April on the shoulder, and April had to remind her body that this wasn't old Karai and she wasn't in any danger—not mortal anyway. "You did go a bit cross-eyed though. Gotta work on that."

April didn't have it in her to retort. She was just hoping Karai would leave it at that, and then maybe April could go about guilt-tripping herself in peace.

Karai stood, gulping down the last of her drink before tossing the can in the recycle bin. "Anyway, I suppose your love life really is none of my business, right?" Karai said blithely, and April felt some relief; enough that she regretted ending the conversation on such a sour note—even if Karai hadn't been entirely graceful about it either.

"Karai," April said, stopping her before she reached the curtains. "Sorry about that. I'm sure you're just looking out for Donnie."

"Sure, that's a good reason. But really, it's just a lot of fun as well."

I guess that's her way of showing she cares, April realized, and that made her smile.

"Right…" she said, eyebrows raised in a show of skepticism. "But you have to promise that you'll let me tell him. This is between us."

"Pfft. Fine," Karai agreed, and April felt herself relax a little. She hadn't realized how tense she was. But Karai continued confidentially. "On one condition, though: that you'll let me in on the details later."

April chuckled. If girl talk is what it took to gain Karai's silence, then it was a small price to pay. "I'll see what I can do," she said, and that seemed to be enough for Karai, who winked, smiling her lopsided smirk.

"Catch you later, princess!"

And she was off, leaving April where she sat on the stool, slumping forward over the table, feeling as if she'd just made it several blocks escaping from Karai's fury just to have Karai catch up to her, laugh it off and send her home with a diploma and a complimentary box of chocolates. Will I ever get the hang of talking to you, Karai?

There was a soft mewl, muffled behind the freezer door. April chuckled to herself. "I'm a doofus, Kitty," she said pitifully, and was rewarded with a curious "Murr?"

Something sprung into mind and she swivelled around. The coffee pot was on the counter, getting cold. She willed herself to move and finally carried the two mugs to the lab.

Before entering she stood at the threshold, where she could see Donnie's shell and mask tails shimmy about at the desk as he mumbled excitedly to himself. He'd taken out the soldering iron and the smell of burning metal mixed with the coffee—which seemed about right for the lab.

When she finally made up her mind to enter, Donnie greeted her like she was a gift from the heavens, as usual. As if she could do no wrong. Why? April thought. Why would you even still like me? How are you still talking to me?

"Cheers!" Donnie said, surprising her a little, clinking his mug against hers and taking a sip. "Hey, you think you can get me another one of those flux pens? This one's running out. Gonna be doing a lot of soldering."

"Sure."

April noticed Donnie's gaze lingering on her. "All good?" he asked, and she made her best to look as happy and casual as he'd last seen her not even ten minutes ago.

"Yeah, uh... Leo said the docks were too busy," she said, shrugging, and Donnie made a "called-it" face. "I just took a little longer because Karai was in the kitchen and we chatted for a bit." She made her way back to her corner of the desk in front of her books.

"Uh-oh, that can't be good." Donnie laughed, but thankfully didn't delve, as he picked up the iron again, adjusted his goggles and continued working. "I'll probably need some help in a few minutes if that's alright."

"Of course." April sat in her corner watching him covertly.

She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him so bad… She even took a deep breath to speak—I have something to tell you, Donnie—, but the air got stuck inside her. When she finally released it, it was in the form of a sigh, slow and contained, so Donnie wouldn't notice.

Addressing their relationship now could jeopardize everything. It was best to wait until this whole thing blew over. April knew it was unfair, and it probably wasn't the best thing to do, hiding things from him like this. It made her feel cowardly and wrong. But it was the best solution she could think of. She promised Donnie and herself, in her mind, that she would tell him everything soon—the music box, Casey, her dad...

Maybe I should make a checklist, her inner voice said bitterly.

It had been one year. It could wait a few more days, and then she would sit down with him and tell him everything, and Donnie would understand if she explained. Frankly she couldn't wait to get it off of her chest.

For the remainder of the afternoon, she made herself busy with her homework, if only to have an excuse for being silent to try to organize her thoughts, getting up occasionally to assist Donnie. Barely able to concentrate, her mind and her eyes wandered about the room until eventually she saw it. There it was, peeking at her from atop of the closet. It was right there after all and it had been there all along.

I'm such a doofus.


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