It was mid-morning when Raphael let himself in, though the apartment sunk below the street was engulfed in near-blackness. A single chink of light fought its way through the thick shutter over the small window at the top of one wall and crawled about the room, lending everything a blueish outline. The slumbering form of Donatello was sprawled in his corner on a bed of empty beer cans and paper stacks, thousands of crumpled pages each neatly printed with the endless calculations that filled his head, overflowing to drown his waking hours in their myriad complexity.

Raphael decided not to disturb Don, who hadn't rested in days and even now was softly mumbling formulae in his sleep. Instead he quietly made his way to his room, which was really a closet with a mattress crammed into it, and lay there. His body was exhausted, but his mind pounded on the walls of its skull, screamed for release. And when sleep came, he knew it would only be to face Saki once more in that terrible dream, the one he kept having over and over.

*

He awoke to a blissful instant of nothing – and then it all came rushing back to him, a tangible force pushing him down into the mattress. It took him a minutes to realise that the irritating tapping was coming from the door and not from inside his head. With effort he pulled himself to his feet and into the darkness of the apartment, wondering what time it was.

Cautiously, he opened the door – and there was April. Gone with her job at Channel 6 was the vibrant girl in the yellow boiler suit; now a young woman stood before him, dressed simply in grey slacks and a plain white shirt. Her hair had retained its rich red hue, though now she wore it back in a ponytail instead of letting it play about a face which remained as lovely as ever, the hardships of the last year betrayed only by small lines around her beautiful eyes. He could never admit it to her, but those eyes, that sparkled like stardust, that almost chased away the shadows, were all that kept him going. She didn't look so happy to see him.

"What the hell is this?" demanded April angrily, thrusting a newspaper in Raphael's face as she stormed past him and into the apartment.

"Good to see you too, April," muttered Raph. "You should have called ahead, I'd have ordered some -"

"'Man And Woman Assaulted By Crazed Monster,'" interrupted April. "'Police Baffled.'"

"Hey, let me see that," said Raph. He took it from her and scanned the article, which was headed by an artist's impression, a crudely sketched parody of himself with dark slits for eyes and certain amphibian aspects added. He wanted to laugh, but then he saw her face, all surprise and disappointment. "Giant frog man?" He threw the paper back to her. "Do I look like a goddamn frog to you?"

"So its true then. You assaulted them." Her eyes burned into him. He wanted to grab her and make love to her.

"No – I mean, he – they've got it all ass backwards, April. For instance, they conveniently left out the fact that the man was stealing the woman's handbag at the time, and I was getting it back for her."

"I believe you, Raph," said April, unsmiling. "Unfortunately most readers don't have the benefit of having worked for a major news network. They don't know that it's all a crock. That's why you have to protect yourself."

"I did protect myself," he said, going to the fridge and getting himself a soda.

"I meant a disguise, not beating people half to death. Five facial fractures and a broken arm? That's a little over the top, even for you."

He spoke, and the words caught in his throat, digging their claws in as he forced them out. "So I got carried away." She reminded me of you.

A silence hung between them for a few seconds, and they heard Donatello quietly muttering to himself from his corner.

"So how is he?" asked April.

"Don?" asked Raphael, wondering as he said it who else she'd be talking about. "Same." He couldn't tell her that Donatello still blamed all of them for what had happened, that to him it might as well have been yesterday.

She nodded, the fire in her eyes faded, but the sparkle still refusing to be snuffed out. "I'm going to see someone. I'll bring you guys some food later. Just stay out of trouble, okay?"

"Thanks."

And then she was gone, and it became dark once more. A car horn blared in the distance.

"Its been a year," said Raphael after a while.

Donatello didn't respond, but his writing slowed. He had heard, and he was thinking.

"When are you going to give it up, Don? When are you going to stop wasting your time?" Raphael could have asked himself the same questions, and the old Donatello would have told him so. Now, the ghost that occupied the shell of his former ally just kept his head down and went on writing and muttering under his breath.

"Whatever," said Raphael. "I'm going out."

He donned coat and hat and opened the door, silhoutted in the corridor's dim light.

"One week."

Raphael turned. "What did you say?"

"One week," repeated Donatello. "That's when we leave."

Raphael closed the door, returned to the gloom. "I didn't know you were planning a trip," he muttered. "What's the occasion?"

"We're getting Leo back. In one week."

Raphael wanted to laugh, but the cold, hard stone in the pit of his stomach prevented him. Instead he replied, "I don't know if it escaped your attention, Don, but Leo's gone. He's dead."

"You don't know that. You keep saying it, but you don't know." Donatello's voice had dropped to a whisper.

"Okay, so we didn't see him die, but he's trapped in another dimension, and not the friendliest if my memory serves me right. Saki closed the portal, Don, and they're both gone. We can never go back."

Donatello stood, and turned. He was in darkness, but Raphael could see the tears on his face. It was the first time he'd cried since it had happened.

"We can. I found another weak spot, Raph."

Raphael's breath quickened, his eyes narrowed to angry slits. "You found another weakspot. You're joking, right? Please tell me you're kidding me. You remember what happened to Mike, right?"

"That was an anomaly."

"An anomaly?" Raphael spat in disgust. "He couldn't see for a month, Donatello. He could barely move. We had to feed him through a goddamn tube. And as soon as he could walk, he got the hell out of here. Now you want to do it all again?"

"We have to try," replied Donatello. "According to my calculations, there might not be another chance in our lifetimes."

"Forget it, Don. Your calculations nearly got us killed once, and I for one have no desire to repeat the experience. I'll see you around."

The door slammed shut, and silence settled on the apartment like fallout. Donatello sighed, then returned to his corner. He had a lot of work to do in the next week. This time it had to be perfect when they made the jump. And they would jump, whether Raph liked it or not.

He was going to put it all right.