Hello everyone! Sorry if my updates are growing scarcer and if my writing is choppier than usual, but I'm having major writers block lately and the lack of reviews for this story is really bumming me out. Is it just me or am I getting fewer and fewer reviews as this story continues on? Please let me know what you think of the upcoming chapters, I promise you that the story will be getting better soon. Stay with me a little longer! Enjoy and please please please review!

Karai Pov

Flipping through the photo album, a frown disappears and reappears. Sometimes a small laugh escapes my throat, and other times I have to bite my lip to hold back a wave of tears.

When I was young, I never quite understood the point of scrapbooking. Why would someone want to keep photos of the important aspects of their lives when it's permanent in their minds? Was it because they never wanted to forget? Or because, they simply wanted to see clearly, in printed form, what the setting, the people, the atmosphere, was like that day?

I understand now; it's merely for the sake of having a memory pasted into a book. Every picture is a symbol, a day that has passed by in ones life. Put together, days and days and days become weeks and weeks and weeks, then months and months and months. It all adds up, into a lifetime. This book, filled to the brim with photographs, is a metaphor in its self. The metaphors of life.

I suppose I like my photo album, the one that holds all of mine and Leo's relationship. Anywhere from the building of our first kiss, to our hands clasped together, broadcasting our new-at-the-time engagement rings, to the finale ultrasound of my daughter. I choke, a wave of tears screaming in agony as they bed to be released. I let them go.

The night of the incident is still fresh in my mind, feeling as if it'd taken place last night rather than two months ago. There's a physical memory that comes alone with the thought of this night. And that recall just so happens to be the moment when my father plunged his gauntlet deep into the paper-thin flesh of my stomach.

Pain instantly clouded my vision, making it hard for me to process anything other than the vile torture. I knew straight away that my daughter was gone, even before the blade was torn out, and my father left me on the floor so he could get away.

Why couldn't I feel Leonardo lift me into his strong arms, I'd wondered at the time. Was it because I was under the influence of numbness, resulting in me to not feel a pinprick? Or, because I was slowly slipping into the unforgivable grips of death?

His voice was barely audible against the high-pitched ringing in my ears. I wanted to moan in agony, to express my discomfort, but even that stole away every fiber in my being. So I stayed quiet, focusing only on the pure sound of his voice.

"Don't go, Karai. Don't close your eyes. Your time isn't up. Not yet, we still have a beautiful life ahead of us," Leonardo's eyes had swelled with tears, each of which dropped onto my face, matching the ones that fled my own eyes. "We'll get married in Hawaii after we have little Sakura, and she'll have plenty of little brothers and sisters. And you can name them all, I love the names you wanted. You can name them, I don't care. As long as their ours."

No words met his, instead, for a moment, silence abruptly ended the peace of our home. I could sense fear—it radiated off of Leonardo, and soaked into the depths of my skin, hugging my soul tightly for comfort. I wanted to reply, and although thoughts in my mind of what to say, the words wouldn't align correctly. They all scrabbled together, syllable upon syllable reaching out, dying to be spoken. I stayed quiet.

Smiling sadly, I reached my hand up to caress his cheek. He leaned into my touch, his facial expression softening some. And those sapphire orb so, they shown down at me with enough passion to light up an entire city. I could tell, just by a blurry glimpse as I struggled to see past the tears, exactly what he was thinking.

Over and over and over again, he was telling himself how beautiful I was, and how much he cared for me. How important I was to him, and how he would never let me go.

And this hurt me more than the wound in my torso, because I knew rather clearly that I would not be getting out alive after this. Leonardo would have to let me go.

"Leo, I love you," I savored the joyful gleam in his eyes as he ate up my words. "And, I want you to save Sakura."

My fiancé had bitten his bottom lip, holding back a roar of a sob. His face scrunched tightly as he argued with me. "I can't. I can't live without you."

Vision suddenly going black, I'd only gotten out a few short words before launching into a state of nothing. "Yes you can. You'll do fine."

I don't know what happened next, because by the time my eyes had fluttered open once more, I was in a hospital bed, doctors swarming around me. Not even ten minutes after I'd awaken came the terrible news.

The doctors face had been full of worry and grief as he stuttered on the words, deciding on what order to place each syllable in. Finally, he gets it right.

"Miss Oroku-" I cut him off immediately.

"It's Mrs Hamato, actually," with a bitter tone, I'd glared him down. At the time, I only wanted to see Leonardo, not talk to a measly Doctor.

"Right. Well, I truly due hate to be the one to inform you of the tragedy," my heart began to race, "but your daughter did not make it."

Imagine my reaction, waking up from a surgery meant to fix me, only to find that in the process, they teared a hole in my heart. Automatically, my thoughts go straight to Leonardo. He promised to save Sakura over me, no matter what. So, why did he break that promise?

Now, sitting here, biting my lips to suppress a sob, I realize how stupid we were to fight nonstop after our daughters death. We needed each other, and yet, we didn't cry for help, but instead, we let out battle cry.

I wipe a tear from my eye, and flip the page. There are pictures of Yoshi and Claire's wedding, but I pay no mind to them. My thoughts are elsewhere.

Until he walks in. Only then do I allow myself to steal a glance away from the photo album.

Leonardo carries two Starbucks drinks, one in each hand. I perk up, and take the one he offers me into my own hands.

He kisses my cheek when he sits down, leaning on my stuff body. I chuckle, suddenly enlightened.

"What's with the Starbucks, Loverboy?" Taking a sharp whiff of my steaming beverage, I'm hit with a wave of cinnamon. Mmm, Chai Tea.

"Well, I applied for a job there. And received my job." I can't help but smile at the sight of his expression. Gently, he gazes into my eyes, a grin forming on his lips.

Every move he makes is meant to benefit me in one way or another, I know this for a fact. I also happen to know that he got this job for the sake of me.

"All in one day?"

"Yeah, they were a little desperate for new employees . . ," he trails off, a humble gleam in his sapphire eyes.

Rolling my eyes, I snort. He's never been one to take pride in himself, always giving an excuse as to why he made it as far as he did. I wish that for once he could be proud of himself.

"I'm sure that wasn't the case, I mean, they'd be stupid not to hire a guy like you." He nods, but doesn't add anything, not wanting to stir the pot further.

I shut the photo album and move it to the bedside table, creating more room for the two of us to spread out. Neither of us hesitate to make ourselves comfortable. My head is on his shoulder as I lean my body against his. He wraps an arm around my torso.

With a steaming beverage cupped in my hands, and Leonardo holding me close, I become instantly relaxed. He's a trigger of sorts, changing my mood as if it were a switch that only his luxurious fingers could flip. But toying with my emotions isn't the only thing his fingers could be doing to me right now.

Almost like he was reading my thoughts, he shifts his hand from my hip to where my thighs begin, and he slowly begins to massage.

"I heard the paychecks are good," Leo starts, a voice as delicate as a bird, haunting the silence I'd grown to enjoy, "which means we'll get our apartment sooner."

Once more, I dare myself to express a distraught filled sigh, and roll my eyes up and back down. Money, money, money—sometimes I feel as if it's all we ever discuss.

He has his heart set on buying us an apartment, and I'm not gonna lie, I adore the thought of privacy as well. In fact, that might be the only reason either of us were so eager to get jobs. But after every misfortunate event that has happened to us—the loss of Sakura, my coma, and Leonardo's brief suicidal thoughts—I'm realizing that what we have right now is enough to not have to ask for more. As of right now, we have a roof over our heads and enough food to feed us and all of Leo's family, thanks to his father's kind offer of letting us stay here as long as we need to. Honestly, I don't see why either me or Leo should be in such a rush to leave.

"Why do we have to leave?" I ask, my words nothing but a shallow whisper. "Everything's okay here. I'm not sure I understand why we're in such a hurry."

Leonardo takes a long sip of his coffee, more likely than not, processing my words while doing so. His response is long awaited, filling me with anticipation. "Karai, I just want the best for you."

My soul reaches for these words longingly, holding them tightly in its mighty grip, and hugs. I don't just cherish them, I let them sink into my skin, and there they burn a mark. I'll never forget this powerful statement.

Energetically, I burst out of his arms, lunging off of the bed. My tea squirms out of my grip, clanking against the carpeted floor instead. Ignoring it, I stare into Leonardo's owl eyes, a sudden hopefulness enlightening me. "Then marry me."

Leo's eyes immediately enlarge, but then, narrow as he processes my simple proposition. His curiosity is clear, I can smell it across the room, and even more when he walks around the bed to meet me.

He places his hands on my biceps, holding me an arms length away. The gap is too much for me to handle, I want to be closer to his warm body, I want to be able to smell his natural musk, and bask in the company of him.

"But . . . when?" He's considering my change of plans; good.

"I dunno. Soon."

Leonardo breathes steadily, never taking his eyes off of me. I keep my own on his luscious body.

"What about next weekend?" I nod my head vigorously, gladly accepting his suggestion.

His hands fall away from my arms, and he steps forward. My eyes flutter shut as he presses his firm lips to my forehead. And all of a sudden, I once more have something to look forward to.

Leonardo Pov

I run smack into him as I walk down the corridor, just the guy I was looking for; Raphael. He rubs his head, staring at me with emerald eyes that blaze with as much hatred to burn a city to its core. I take a step back.

"Was just lookin' for ya. Donnie wants us all in his office. Says he thinks he found something remarkable," Raphael talks in a rushed voice, clearly eager to find out what our brother has to say.

I nod, glancing back at mine and Karai's bedroom. "I'll grab Karai. Me and her actually had some pretty great news to share as well," grinning, I start to turn back down the hall, but Raphael's hand on my wrist stops me from moving any further.

"Donnie made it pretty clear he only wanted us, Mikey, and dad there."

My heart is racing faster than hell, panic is filling my veins. "O-okay."

Empty thoughts are all I am as I pace down the stairs, and across my home. The walls are closing in on me as I'm finding it harder to breathe. My eyes are going bloodshot.

I can sense Raphael's nervousness, too, especially when he turns the door know, glancing at me over his broad shoulder. His solemn eyes say it all; here we go.

Mikey spins around on the chair across from Donnie, who sits with his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. The former toys with a stapler, opening and closing it, letting the loose staples get lost in the depths of the carpet. The strangest part may just be the fact that the latter doesn't even seem to notice the actions that he'd find so utterly antagonizing any other day.

My father stands in the far corner of the room, looming just beside the empty couch. His eyes land on mine the second I step into the room, and I can already tell by the sad smile playing on his lips, like a soloist with his violin, that what I'm about to hear isn't good news. So with Raphael sitting to the left of me, and my father standing to my right, I brace myself for what is yet to come.

Donatello sits up, and looks around the room. As his burgundy eyes, glazed over in pure sorrow, wander over every face in this room, I begin to shake. And quaver. And tears are already building in my eyes. Because it isn't everyday that Donatello Hamato—the man who has cured the world of the Kraang's mutagen, the boy who saved millions on a nightly basis, with nothing but a mere no staff, the boyfriend who holds his lover tight against his chest as she drifts into sleep, the brother who so often is the deliverer of bad news, the son who has always been there to aid his father's needs—cries. He's always been strong, always so mighty, and I praise him for that. Raphael calls me fearless, but perhaps that name belongs to Donnie.

"I really don't even know where to start . . ." I might say his voice is weak, if I were a coward. He starts somewhat strong, but slowly, his voice loses its natural boom, and he fades into something simpler. "So I guess I'll just start with the truth."

He takes a gulp of air, clearly preparing himself to give the news were all so anxious to hear. "Recently, I took a curiosity to life spans. I wondered to myself, 'we are turtles turned human, and our father is a human turned rat turned human again, will any of that affect our life expectancies?' Well, I decided to do a little research on that."

I'm caught breathless as my lungs swell up. Raphael grabs my hand, and pulls it between his legs, where he clasps it tightly between his own.

"You all remember when I borrowed some DNA samples, don't you?" We all nod. Two weeks ago, he drew a small sample of blood from each of our arms. "I found out that no, it won't affect you, Father, because you were already past adolescence by the time you were mutated. Your average lifespan is 82 years." My father, though faint, heaves a sigh.

Donatello's eyes fixate on Mikey. Little Mikey, the youngest of us all. He's stopped spinning in his chair, and has put the stapler down. He sniffles and trembles.

"As for us, well, we aren't as lucky. We were mutated at a very, very young age, therefore, changing our lifespans greatly. I found the average of the averages, and well . . ," he chokes on his own words. When he speaks, he backs up. "The estimated age a red eared slider turtle would live up to is 30, whilst a human is 82. But, based off of our blood samples, we take 10% of that off, leaving our average human rate at 73.8. Find the mean of that and 30 . . . We only should live to be about 52 years old."

And that's where it strikes hard, the realization that Karai will outlive me. That I won't be there as long as she will. I won't get to witness as much of our children's lives as she does.

She's the only one I think off as my world goes dark, and suddenly, I'm not in control of myself.