A/N I do not own TMNT, but am forever grateful for their existence.

I'm assuming a couple of years have passed since sixteen-year-old April met the turtles, which makes her around eighteen. I'm only mentioning it for the sake of some later description.

Also, if you haven't seen it yet, Setoangel01 has honoured me by drawing some fanart for this fic! So you all should go check it out on her tumblr. Like now. Seriously it's amazing! =D Plus, I've never had fanart before so that makes it even more awesome!

Love or Blood

Chapter 19: Where it All Began

April sunk to sit on the top of the staircase. After watching Donatello slam the door in her apology's face, the red-head was feeling less than angelic. Yes, she had finally told him how she felt. However, the confession had been long overdue, and had not been intended to be filled with her rash and thoughtless temper.

Although it did not excuse his behaviour, Donatello had done what he did out of hurt. April had forgotten that. Like the coward she was, April had been all too willing to place all the fault on him when undoubtedly she carried her own share. Yet, even though neither April nor Donatello had sought to be held accountable, someone still had to take responsibility, and so ironically, it had been Raphael who willingly bore a burden that should have never been his to bear.

Until that moment, when Donatello's brown eyes met hers, April hadn't really understood the gravity of what that meant. It didn't matter whether or not the purple-clad turtle took the blame. What mattered was when she rejected it, Raphael took up her mantle. He was willing to carry this burden – a weight so heavy it risked tearing him apart – and April had just let him take what was meant to be hers. Suddenly, April didn't feel so good.

Laying her head against the banister, she could not help but wonder if they – if she – had been wrong about herself all along. April O'Neil did try to be a good person, but she often wondered if merely going through the motions of life was really all that was required.

Before she met the turtles, April had long since perfected her regiment. Get up, go to school, occasionally hang out with friends, have supper with her father, go to bed, repeat. An endless cycle she dutifully followed as though performing these simple tasks would grant her the prerequisites to a virtuous lifestyle.

Admittedly, April had come to appreciate many people in her life, but she had to wonder how many of them she actually cared about. Of course she loved her father, but the others? Part of her wondered if she had been friendly to them merely because social obligation demanded it. Part of her wondered if all those good deeds had actually had the best of intentions behind them. Did she actually emphasize with any of them, or had it all just been a way to get acceptance amongst her peers?

Then April remembered a memory long ago shoved to the darkest cobwebbed recesses of her mind. She had been young. No older than seven or eight. April remembered having a stupid crush on some boy in her class. In one of her conversations with him on the bus ride home, she had gotten the stupid idea of having a playground war of boys versus girls. It would be like battle tag, except the only way victory could be achieved was by capturing the team's leader. Naturally, in her stupid urge to impress her crush, April declared him to be his team's designated Napoleon, while she assumed leadership of the female ranks. Unsurprisingly, he had jumped at the idea, and so the next day would mark the initiation of April's grand game of the heart.

There was only one fatal flaw with her plan: April was no Joséphine, and held no sway over her Napoleon's affections. So when it began, the girls were horribly unprepared and while the red-head cowardly evaded capture, one of her "soldiers" had been hurt. Recess ended with the boys obviously victorious – despite the lack of the girls' leader in their clutches. Before returning to class, when April went to use the little girl's room, she was told off by another who had pieced together the dark truth of the whole horrid affair. The girl gave her simple statement: "That wasn't a very good thing you did," before leaving April alone to face the enormity of her evil deed watching her from the bathroom mirror. Searing it into her memory as a traumatic life-changing event, in which only an eight-year-old full of unrequited love and peer condemnation could, allowed April to clearly summon that teary-eyed, red-haired, and profusely freckled child from her reflection even over ten years later.

Looking at that little girl in her mind's eye, April still could feel the shame and remorse from hurting those around her merely for her own benefit. It had taken April a long time to forgive herself and an even longer time to believe that the one incident had not blotched her soul for life. However, even if forgiveness did not bloom overnight, she did everything she could to ensure her climb up the ladder of success was not on the backs of others – at least what little she could earn from her short eighteen-some years on earth.

Yet, April had apparently not learned her lesson; for if she had, Donatello and Raphael would not be in their current states of anguish. Her cowardice had once again uncovered the cruelty that resided deep inside her. For that she was truly sorry, but Donatello was right, sometimes apologies really weren't enough.

Apologies were merely the glue to one's broken heart. If all the pieces were present, it could be fixed, but if even one fragment is missing, the heart cannot be repaired until the hole is filled. So all one could do when forgiveness could not be gained, was use the memory to help form an alloy to help heal the damage that had been done. The heart would never be the same, but it would be whole.

As April rose from the steps, she knew it was all she could do, and so, it was time she talked to Raphael. The earlier incident worried her deeply, for the red-head feared his heart was already cracking and would develop a similar pathology to Donatello's if she did not intervene soon. Refusing to let it be the thief that stole away with her angel, April swore she would do everything in her power to keep her cowardice at bay.

April left the house to join in Michelangelo and Casey's search for the two older terrapins. She knew Raphael had been upset earlier, and although he too had no excuse for his violent behaviour, April understood why he had snapped. In retrospect, she probably would have expected him to blow up ages before he did. The fact that he had lasted this long demonstrated that her beloved hot-head was maybe finally starting to mature – at least a little bit.

It did not take her long to find the search party – they were making enough noise to rival New York City during rush hour – but neither Leonardo nor Raphael had been located. The growing nausea in her gut told her they did not want to be found. By the time night fell, the group returned to the farmhouse with neither missing mutant in their midst. As the three prepared dinner, all jumped at the sound of the screen door, but could not hide the disappointment to see Donatello slump inside to collapse dejectedly into a chair.

Donatello did not seek April's gaze and she did not seek his. When the team sat down to dinner, no one talked much. Instead eyes remained more or less fixed on their fish chowder for the duration of the meal. Michelangelo didn't even try to convince them to accompany him to the living room for their typical after-dinner showing of "Crognard the Barbarian." So once the dishes were done, they all fled to their respective rooms to curl up in the darkness of the night. Only April noticed the orange-clad turtle's change of course at the foot of the stairs to return to the outside realm. The red-head could not shake the ice slowly crusting her vertebrae at the look on his face before he disappeared into the shadows of the forest.

April did not sleep. Instead, after changing into her PJ's, she began a long vigil staring out her window into the abyss. It was cold that night but as time inched by, as though each hour was coated in molasses, the red-head became less and less aware of the frigid night air and more and more aware of the house's three absent inhabitants. Finally, when the horizon began to lighten around each lonely pinprick of starlight, a small shelled being crept out from the forest's oblivion. Rapidly, April threw on a pair of sweatpants and sneakers along with a black hoodie, and as she pounded down the stairs each step sent a rush of blood to her ears.

Michelangelo opened the door. Tiny lines of red painted his sclera's white canvas; each framed by shrouds of neither green nor purple, which only enhanced the sunken effect of his exhausted eyes. Utterly transforming the once bright turtle, his irises once more blue and alive than any prairie sky were watered down with the spreading pallor of his anxiety. April saw his pupils glaze over her, but felt as though he did not see her. Without a word, he moved past as though he were nothing more than autumn's final leaf. A lonely wind-swept vagabond fated to travel aimlessly, until its lifeless tissue-like fibers fell away to leave nothing but a dry skeletal husk, as the only sign summer had ever been more than a nebulous memory.

April fled.

She could not stand to be in that house anymore with its foundation crumbling away with every breath. Sorrow and guilt were everywhere. Their pain, their suffering, and everything they had been through had never left. It was an insidious venom. A toxin that had infiltrated so deeply that even the strongest of them had begun to flicker. She needed something, anything that would give her respite. A purifying poultice to press on her plaguing spirit.

Maybe that was why she wasn't surprised when in dawn's dusty glow she came to the place where it all began and found him there. Her angel, her refuge, and… Her love.

Her heart cried at how relieved she was to see him there kneeling, shell to her, before the vegetable bed containing the beans he had planted only a few days ago. The ground was still largely bare, but here and there was a tiny fleck of green amongst the black soil. They could not even be called sprouts yet, but they were alive. She slowly walked towards him, "Raph… I've been worried about you."

He didn't look up, "I find that hard to believe."

April kneeled beside him, and swallowed the jolt of fear she felt when he refused to meet her gaze, "Um ok… Let's try this again. Hey Raph, you've been missing for hours, and I've been up all night worrying about you. Now here's the part where you say, "Gee April I'm sorry I was just upset. I'm also a little tired and grumpy from not eating or sleeping, but you're awesome and I'm glad to see you.""

He neither laughed nor removed his eyes from the ground, "You think this is a joke?"

"I'm sorry for trying to lighten the mood. Geez…" she sighed, "Look Raph, I know I didn't side with you yesterday, but I really do get why you snapped at Donnie. I pretty much did the same thing to him, but I still need to apologize to you. I let you carry the burden for something that really wasn't your fault."

"That's it?"

She tilted her head in confusion unsure of what he had been expecting, "Uh yeah?"

"There's nothing else?"

"Well yeah… " April fidgeted, unnerved by his unnatural behaviour, "I mean… I really should have just told Donnie from the start how I was feeling. Instead I let you get in the middle of this whole mess, which I guess ended up pushing you over the edge."

His voice remained eerily quiet, "That's what you think happened?"

Fingernails slid along her now perspiring palms, which were clenched tightly in her lap, "Isn't it about Donatello? Because I…"

Her voice faded when his eyes finally rose to meet hers, but no longer were they soft. Instead they were a hard metallic green. An unfamiliar shade. A disturbing sight devoid of light, "It's about everyone."

April was perplexed. She knew Casey had once played a role, but now that it'd been days of him acting like his usual self, the red-head assumed Raphael would only care about her and Donatello, "Is it really?"

The turtle's frown deepened, "You know it is."

"No, I don't," April countered in a slight panic from feeling as though she had missed something very important, "I think you're just being a jerk. Throwing yourself a pity party because you can't deal with your feelings."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say because in response Raphael sniped sardonically, "Wow, those powers of deduction work wonders. No wonder you know what Donnie felt."

This comment left her fuming, "Excuse me?"

His tone softened a little in remorse, "That came out wrong."

"Well it still came out!" April was steadily becoming angrier, "Is that what this whole thing has been? A way for you to get revenge on me for so called "playing" with Donnie's feelings?"

He defended with equal animosity, "I told you I didn't mean to say it!"

"Then what are you trying to say Raph? That you didn't mean to say it, but were still thinking it?"

Raphael snapped, "I didn't mean to think or say it!"

"Surprise. Surprise." April rolled her eyes sarcastically, "What else is new?"

Under her glare he stood, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

April hissed at his attempt to intimidate her while rising to follow suite, "Like you don't know!"

He retaliated by standing to his full height and crowding into her space, "I'd rather hear your version."

The red-head used every bit of the inch she had on him as not to be cowed, "Don't you dare bully me Raphael!"

Clenching his fists, the first spark of his true anger emerged, "I'm not!"

Based on her heart pounding against her ribs, April had to object, "Yes you are! You do it to everyone!"

They stood glaring at each other in silence for several minutes. Until Raphael cursed, "Fuck."

Backing down, he looked away to mutter, "I don't believe this… Don was right. I am that story's duckling monster."

"Raph, only you would think that."

"Because it's true!"

April snapped, "You know what I think this is? I think you're scared Raphael. You are so busy trying to make yourself the bad guy that you just can't accept that someone can actually see the good in you. So you jump on every excuse that makes you look like a jerk."

He looked at her sharply, "You don't mean that."

That surprised her, "Of course I do! Why wouldn't I?"

It took all of April's strength not to quell under the darkness that pierced her from those green eyes. Raphael's voice took on an edge she did not think he could summon, "You thought I would have drowned my own brother."

Blinking furiously, April tried to buy herself some time with her infamous cynicism while several pieces suddenly started connecting in her mind, "Oh… So… Beating him to a pulp under water was just you horsing around? I'd love to see you actually pissed."

Once again April realized too late her mistake. Raphael's eyes, if it were possible, darkened even more, "You really think that don't you?" He stepped away and shook his head mumbling, "I should have known better..." Before raising his voice, "See! This is why I have none of your earth crap. I can't let anything get close to me because the closer I get to something I care about, the more it burns under my touch!"

Trying to recover her fumble April tried to interject, "Come on Raph, that's not true…"

His fury only continued to grow, "I told you! I am only fire, and because of that I am cursed to destroy everything I have ever loved…" Then he turned away to whisper so April could just barely catch it, "even you."

Her mind was spinning. Did Raphael just say that he loved her? Then a horrific realization crept into her brain when she realized he had used the past tense. Full of dread she cried, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Raphael still did not meet her eyes as he uttered, "Some things are not mine to give."

In frustration at him avoiding the core of the matter, she gestured wildly, "I'm not asking you to give me anything, but at the very least, you need to be honest with yourself!"

He spun around to face her again, "And who did my honesty save? Did it save Leo from the Shredder? Did it save your father? IT SURE AS HELL DIDN'T SAVE MINE, AND IT HASN'T SAVED ME!"

April shouted back, "IT COULD SAVE YOU, IF YOU GAVE IT A CHANCE!"

"BEING HONEST GOT ME INTO THIS WHOLE DAMN MESS!"

"And what is this exactly?" April seethed, "A round-about way of you breaking up with me?"

"We were never going together in the first place!"

She gaped at him wide-eyed to whisper, "What?"

Raphael folded his arms, and the instant before he looked away, April would later look back to realize his eyes had been full of hurt, "Never actually had the conversation."

"So all of this," April's voice sounded unnatural even to her, but in that moment she had mistakenly interpreted his anguish as cruel nonchalance, "meant nothing? Do I mean nothing to you?"

The being before her turned to face her. No longer was she met with her seraph. Instead, something entirely different had replaced him. An entity borne of sorrow and rejection whose voice she did not know, "If you don't know the answer to that by now then obviously we're both wasting our time."

Out of shock, she just gaped at him stupidly, but apparently her lack of response affirmed his fears, "Don't hurt yourself."

Trying to undo the damage she had done, she tried calling, "Raph…" but he did not even look at her. Instead he continued in that unfamiliar tone, "I was wrong. You care no more about me than you did about Don."

Raphael turned away and began to walk out of the clearing. In desperation she tried again, "Raph wait!"

He did not pause, "Hey, I get it. I'm a giant fucking turtle monster. What could you possibly love?"

Finally regaining some of her voice's former power she shouted, "WHY WON'T YOU JUST STOP AND LISTEN TO ME FOR TWO SECONDS?"

"WHY SHOULD I?" Despite his words, he did cease his movements and spun around, "You just automatically assumed I was going to kill my own brother. I know I lose it sometimes April, but I would NEVER do that!"

She walked towards him and placed a hand on his arm, "I never said any of that!"

April could not help but feel her eyes sting with tears when he flinched from her grasp, "Well you may as well have."

Cradling her hand as though it had been burned she cried, "What do you want me to say Raphael? I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you! Please just stop and think for a minute!"

He turned away, "A minute won't change anything."

"How do you know if you won't even try?"

"Because I've endured a lifetime of this April. A whole fucking lifetime. Trust me, Don's wounds will heal, but mine? Well how can they when there's nothing to fill the hole they left behind?"

And without another word he bolted.

April sunk to the ground. Her ears were ringing and her world felt as though it had been seared to ashes. How had she managed to screw this up too? How could she have failed to realize how damaged his heart actually was? She had failed him, and now she had lost him.

There, alone amidst the firestorm-ravaged garden, she stared at the soil where her angel had planted those tiny seeds, which foolishly dared to peek at such scorching chaos with such terribly fragile leaves.

There he had held her…

There he had told her he had never been more sure of anything in his life…

Raphael had been wrong. It was not him, but she who was the fire that would consume them all. Gut-wrenching sobs echoed throughout the clearing surrounding her in an inferno of grief. Soon all that would be left would be a black-hole of smouldering cinders.

A/N Just a note: I know Raph actually does lose it and tries to kill Mike in like every other rendition of TMNT (comics, 2k3, etc), but although he tackled Leo pretty good that one time, 2k12 Raph never actually tries to kill his bros. So I took it and played with it.

Anyway... So yeah… While I'm making you guys miserable anyway, I'm afraid we are coming to the end of "Love or Blood." Just a few more chapters to go people...

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go hide in a corner and cry away my Raphril sorrow. :'(

To my lovely reviewers:

Guest: There are no doubt several parallels going on here whether intended or not. I have tried to be unique while approaching this, but there are only so many archetypes… Still it's not always a bad thing if done properly =)

Terri: Yep Yep that was definitely the intention, which is good because I don't want to keep torturing poor Leo.

And yeah… I guess I royally failed at the whole onomatopoeia thing. *Head desk* I totally wrote that note after your first review XD cuz a whole lot is missed if one does not realize that Lub Dub was supposed to be the sounds of the heart beating. I didn't even think to use other sounds like Ba Thump or Da Dump because Lub Dub is what I learned in class… My bad…

On another note though I'm glad the second read through went better =)

Komnenid: I know every time I read Leo's chapters I feel all the feels =(

ThePastReliesOnMemories: Thank-you so much! I write for the sake of writing, but I still try to do a good job. Consequently, I'm always pumped when I get compliments like this one! And yes… Leo's chapters are probably somewhat sensitive to anyone who has been through something similar. I truly hope I've done such a complex topic justice and have come across in an emphatic and respectful manner. Also, you and me both. Every time there's a Raphril scene I feel a rush of hope XD

majishan: Mikey just cares so much and is going crazy with worry. Plus he's the kind of guy that wants to make everyone happy and so when it doesn't work out he has some trouble coping. Alas, what Leo's going through cannot be rushed.