[Casey]

"Mikey!" I follow him to the edge of the roof, gripping my bat with one hand and reaching out to his shoulder with the other. "What is it? The Foot Clan?"

"Shh!" He swats my hand away, his eyes focused on the street below. "Look!"

I follow his pointed finger and see a familiar face peeking out from the sewer grate. She climbs to the surface and glances around her, careful and slow, before sprinting silently down the alleyway.

"Is that Karai?" I lean in against Mikey, straining my neck to see. "What was she doing down there?"

He shoulder-checks me. "Dude, shut up!"

I roll my eyes and start to make a comment about how he's acting like Raph when we spot another figure emerge from the sewer. It's dark out, but the way he scans the street and slides the manhole cover in place before moving in the same direction as Karai is pretty telling.

"Do you think that's why Raph ran off?" I tap the handle of my bat rhythmically. "Maybe he saw Karai snooping around—"

"Come on," Mikey hops over the edge of the roof and starts scaling down the fire escape. I shove my bat back into my pack and climb down after him.

"Wait, what're we doing?"

He rolls his eyes at me before leaping off an entire flight of stairs and landing light as a feather on the asphalt below.

"What's it look like we're doing?" He grins mischievously. "We're gonna follow them."

I don't land nearly as graceful and I don't try to hide my distaste in his proposal. "That…sounds like a horrible idea."

"Or," he winks, "a really great idea. Now shut up and come on."

He moves down the alleyway without a sound. I follow close behind, and as we reach the end of the street, we press our backs against the wall and glance around the corner.

"You know," I whisper, "just saying it's a great idea doesn't automatically make it a great idea."

He shushes me again, intently watching Leo vanish down another back alley after Karai. I chew on the inside of my cheek. The night's getting colder…and it's pretty late. I can only imagine what Leo and Karai would be up to…especially now that he's human.

I stay on Mikey's heels as we ninja stealth our way after Leo at a safe distance.

"What do you think they're doing?" I ask quietly. "I mean, what if they're like…hooking up or something?"

Mikey snorts. "Please, Casey. Leo doesn't know romance from a sandwich."

I frown and glare at him. "That makes no sense."

"Does too—you're just dumb." He strains his neck as we come to another corner, blue eyes reflecting the moon. "But if Leo magically gained any skill with his mutation and they are hooking up, it'll be super awkward for sure."

My brow knits. My body continues to follow Mikey on autopilot, but my brain starts to drift to April. I wonder what she's doing now… I wonder how she feels now that Donnie is Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome. Those two have always had some kind of chemistry—an energy I can't seem to match. But April has spent a lot of time with me as well…and she's opened up to me a lot more than I ever expected she would. There have been times where I thought we had a moment, but I've never been sure, and life has grown so crazy that we don't really have the time or mental energy to spend on something as mundane as relationships, especially romantic ones. It's never been something I've wanted to push. I figure, if it's meant to happen, it'll happen…but Donnie turning human was never part of the equation. That came so out of left-field, my head is still spinning. And now we're tailing Leo, who's also human, as he follows his crazy crush to God knows where. It shouldn't be this big of a concern in my mind, but now all I can think of is April—

"Hey, Puck-head," Mikey hisses, snapping in my face. I blink and shake my head with the realization that we've stopped. "They went down there."

I glance around, noting the rundown neighborhood we've crossed into. The windows in most of the buildings are either shattered, barred, or poorly boarded up with scraps of wood. The streets are littered with trash and oil spills, and only one streetlight flickers across the road. And the smell—I must've been really lost in thought to not notice the stench in the air. It just smells like waste: chemicals, urine, rotting food and possibly dead bodies, but I would like to continue to pretend that the few people I see lying on the concrete next to the empty storefronts are just sleeping junkies.

Mikey doesn't seem to care—I guess he's used to living in a sewer—but this place is making me more uneasy by the second. What the hell are they doing here? What the hell are we doing here?

"Mikey…we should leave."

He waves me off. "We're fine, don't chicken out on me now."

"Okay, well we're definitely not following them into that alley," I hiss. "Let's just climb up this roof and wait for them to come out or something."

His face draws into a tight pout. "But I want to see what they're doing—"

"Whatever it is," I grab him by the shoulder and redirect him to the rusty old fire escape on the building next to us, "I promise it's not worth getting shanked in an alleyway for."

~T~

[Donnie]

The lab is quiet, save for the hum of the freezer. Everyone's out, doing something, somewhere. And I'm sitting here, at my desk, drilling myself over unsolved equations and looking at a sample of my new skin cells under the microscope, cut off from the world above. I guess being human doesn't change everything.

I sigh and rub my tired eyes. Leaning back in my chair, I avert my gaze to the dim light overhead and tell myself for the five hundredth-and-twelfth time that everything is okay. My skin cells look normal, like any other human skin cells would. I'm not mutating back or melting or anything. It's just…even after days of being like this, I still find it hard to wrap my head around.

I'm human.

But, nonetheless, here I am working on mutagen to change us back to the way we were as Splinter instructed. In case, as he so firmly puts it, things don't work out as we planned. In other words, if Leo and I stray too far from the family and the values Splinter taught us, we'll face the consequences of losing our new forms.

I can't say I'm not bitter about this arrangement, but a small part of me understands it. We're not old enough yet to call the shots like this without disrespecting him. And we didn't exactly do this with the best intentions…and we also lied…a lot. I guess it's enough that Splinter is even letting us stay like this for now.

I sit up and go back to tapping my pencil against the edge of my desk. I'll make the mutagen over the next few weeks and just hope that it doesn't come to changing back. Leo and I will have to train our butts off and be on our best behavior, but maybe…maybe I'll never have to use this mutagen again.

That's the best we can hope for, at least.

I'm just about to check the microscope for the five-hundredth-and-thirteenth time when my T-phone suddenly rings and I nearly fall out of my chair. Scrambling for composure, I snatch the device and flip it open to see that it's April who's calling me.

My heart slaps against my ribcage and I answer as fast as possible.

"April!" I say, way too loud, way too fast. I try to dial it back and clear my throat. "I, um, what's going on?"

"Hey, Donnie." Her voice sounds quiet and tired…and sad. My gut sinks as the worry floods my mind. My tone drops to one of concern and I hold the phone closer to my ear, as if that would somehow make the distance between us shrink.

"April, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She sniffles a bit, exhausted. "It's just…it's just my dad, you know? I mean, things have been hard, but he's really having a rough time tonight."

Empathy swells in my chest. We've known it's been difficult for April since we rescued her dad from the Kraang prison. Whatever trauma he suffered there, he's carried back with him. She just hasn't mentioned it in so long, I guess we all kind of put it out of our minds. I put it out of my mind.

I curse myself silently, relentlessly, for being so oblivious to her pain.

"What can I do?" I ask earnestly. "Can I help at all?"

I hear a heavy sigh on her end. "Can you…can you come over? If you're not busy, that is."

"No," I answer too fast. "No, I'm not busy at all. I'll be right there."

~T~

[Leo]

My heart skips at the sight of the dark staircase that leads beneath the earth. It's been so long...and yet it feels like it was just yesterday.

She's already down there, waiting. For me.

My fingers twitch. The old me wants to reach for my dagger. Just in case. That night flashes behind my eyes and I feel the fear all over again. The confusion, the pain - seeing her face as I fell from the rood and broke on the asphalt below.

I swallow, close my eyes, and clench my fists, reminding myself to trust her. That night wasn't her fault. She was trying to protect us both and keep up the ruse - she didn't have any other choice.

You're an idiot.

Raph's voice echoes, permeating my wanting trust.

She'll make you fall for anything.

My eyes shut tighter as if I could squeeze his voice from my eyelids, let it seep away like tears. I reach deep and pull the memories from the night, grab them with every fiber of my being and yank them to the forefront of my mind. Before the rooftop, before the fall, before the arrows and tricks, she was there. She was there. Opening up in front of me, ever so slightly, baring her soul like the sway of curtains on a window. I saw those little shreds of light. I saw her.

My eyes snap open. I don't know what will happen tonight. I can only hope for the chance to see the real her again - for the chance to know, once and for all, who she is and what we are.

I don't know what will happen tonight. But I know that this is my decision, my choice, to put my trust in her one last time.

~T~

[Donnie]

"April."

She stands in the doorway with puffy red eyes. Exhaustion is etched into her skin; it bores from her pupils to her soul.

For a split second, she seems to offer the faintest of smiles, but it falters so quickly I wonder if I only imagined it. I swallow hard and step toward the door, unsure of what to do or say. Do I hug her? Do I give her space?

She stares at me as if she's also unsure before quietly moving aside to let me in.

The door closes behind me. The apartment is dark and stuffy. The TV plays on mute, offering nothing but a washed-out light. The coffee table is slanted - the small center drawer is open, but the edge is splintered and crooked, broken by some external force. Books and shredded paper scatter the rug and all of the curtains are pulled taut against the windows, layered with thick tape on every side. One of the kitchen chairs has been flipped over; a sizable dent in the wall where it hit. The trash can is overflowing. Dishes pile the kitchen sink and the air is thick with the smell of old food and microwaved TV dinners.

The sight is alien and intimate. I feel as if I shouldn't be here, as if I'm looking into a dark corner of someone's mind that I'm not meant to see.

"He won't let me turn the lights on."

April's soft voice startles me. She sighs heavily and walks past me, arms folded, hugging her torso.

"Sorry. The place is kind of a wreck right now."

"No, no - it's fine." I glance at the dark hallway leading to the bedrooms as I set my bag down on the coffee table. She steps behind me and sits down on the worn leather couch.

"So, um…" A glint on the kitchen floor catches my eye. Well, that's a lot of beer bottles. I rub the back of my neck while my discomfort heightens. "...what's going on, April?"

But when I look back at her, her face is already shielded by her hands. She's slumped forward, elbows on her knees - crying.

"Hey," I say quickly, sitting down beside her. "Come here…"

She wilts instantly; a flower sagging toward the earth. I wrap my arms around her and pull her close. Hold her up. Hold her together. Her shoulders tremble with the quiet tears, the shallow breaths. Her hollow bones echo with every little gasp.

"April, what's wrong?" My voice is a cautious whisper. An external force that could destabilize her completely.

External force.

My eyes widen. The pale light gleams from the kitchen floor. "April, where's your dad?"

She sniffles. Her head is tucked in my arm, blocking out the small apartment, the clutter, the darkness of dusty curtains.

"Asleep, probably," she mumbles. "I-I'm sorry, Donnie - I didn't mean to get all worked up…" She gently pushes away from me, smearing tears across her cheeks with her sleeve as she sits back and tucks her knees against her chest. Her eyes look wet and dry simultaneously. I wonder how many times she's cried today.

"Did he," I swallow nervously, "did he hurt you at all?"

She frowns and shakes her head vigorously enough to convince me. "No, no. He'd never. He just…" She groans and rubs her eyes. "I-It's the trauma, you know? From when the Kraang had him. He just gets so freaked out. He thinks they're watching him still…" She nods towards the curtains. "That's why the windows always look like that. He doesn't want lights on - it's practically a war to turn on the TV, and even then, he doesn't want the volume up. He thinks they'll start using the TV to talk to him or something."

"And," I start slowly, "the alcohol helps calm him, I assume?"

She swallows and stares at her feet. "Yeah. I hate it, but it's the only thing that helps when the panic sets in." Her gaze lifts to the hallway, silent and dark, where her father is lost in a drunken slumber. "I know he hates it, too."

The TV show switches to another ad run. It's almost surreal to see the mundane, trivial world playing on the screen. I chew on the inside of my cheek as the feeling of helplessness only rises. "Is he able to speak to a therapist? Something who can help him-"

"A therapist would throw him in the looney bin," she mutters. "He can't talk to anyone about it. Who would listen to him?" A heavy sigh escapes her and she rubs her arms slowly. "That's why...I was thinking, maybe you could try talking to him."

Our eyes meet. Her exhaustion is tangible; her desperation has a pulse. I can't possibly turn her down in her hour of need, but...what could I even say?

"I know I'm asking a lot from you," she whispers. Her voice quivers ever so slightly; a bird on the edge of the nest. "And I completely understand if you don't want to, I just… I don't know how to help him anymore."

I hold her gaze, hoping that somehow feelings can be transmitted through eye contact. Hoping that the surge of affection and love that I hold for her could somehow seep from my pores and fill the room in the place of the words I'll probably never be able to voice.

"I'm not sure how much help I can offer," I start, placing my hand gently on her knee, "but I'd be happy to speak with him."

A relieved smile lifts up her face and her eyes shimmer in the light of the screen. If she were able to cry anymore tears, I'm sure she would, but instead, she breathes a sigh of reassurance and grabs my hand tightly. My heart skips a little at the warmth of her touch.

"Thank you, Donnie."