Baffled by a rattling in her closet, April snatches the gnarled door and jumps when Mikey's big eyes from the floor catch the dirty yellow light swinging from the hallway. Her mysticism rocks with the clothes. "Uh, what are you doing in there?"

He pushes his headphones around his neck and leans out the doorway. "It was a quiet place. Sorry I scared you." This isn't the normal, happy Mikey, she already assessed. The Turtles have a history of keeping their feelings bottled up.

"Do you.." she idly reaches for a bra before it lands on Mikey's head, "...wanna talk about it? I mean, you can come in the kitchen and not stay in this little hole. I can't believe you fit in there."

He fiddles with his dented black mp3 player. "It's quiet and I'm out of the way."

"Stop that," she smiles, stuffing the bra on the top shelf. "You're not in my way. Come on. Get out of my closet." Standing behind the door, she waits as Mikey stands and marches with her to the small kitchen; his shell thumps against the wood chair as he sits. She blurts, "Sorry it's such a mess, but I was-"

"Cooking. I heard." A small grin crosses his face; she feels relieved and mixes him a cup of hot chocolate, something she was about to enjoy before the interruption. He continues in a small voice, "I'm glad you'll be moving soon. New job and more money is always good."

A spoon clatters in the sink. She joins him at the table. "I get to travel, too. Something I've always wanted to do. I'll bring you guys some cool souvenirs back. Maybe Casey, too."

Mikey chuckles and stares down the hot mug. "Everybody's traveling. Wish I could go."

She stops mid-sip. "Everybody?"

He shrinks back, retracting what he said, and swallows the hot liquid without thinking; he clenches his jaw from the pain and doesn't meet her gaze.

"Everybody, Mikey? Hey," she pats his side of the table. "I know you've been through a lot, and I told you I would be there for you. Meet me halfway."

"Ever since we had to move, it's been hell, and you know that.."

"I do." Her thirst for hot chocolate disappears.

"And everybody's been at each other's throats and nobody shuts up long enough to listen to anybody. It's like, god -" his music player almost drops out of his belt, "just shut up already and stop fighting. We have to fight assholes on the street and be assholes at home, too?"

"Has one of you left?" Her mind targets on the turtle in question. Raphael.

"Hold on to your hat, little lady. It's Leo," he scoffs, pushing away his cup and placing the music player on the table. "Like he hasn't left us enough."

"Mikey, that's not really fair-"

"He's leaving on his own this time."

"Back to that tripped out world? Who would want to go back there?"

His fingers twirl the device in a table ridge. "I don't know where he's going. He packed up his gear and left this morning."

"I knew things were bad," she catches her voice. "But not enough to tear you guys apart. He didn't even say goodbye?"

"He did to Splinter. Guess that's all that matters."

As his sullen face dips silent, she thinks of angles to approach from but they fall back to time, and needing it to heal wounds. She knows it won't help anything, and words evaporate on her tongue. Instead, she breaks from the uncomfortable meeting and tosses around the kitchen, shifts aside boxes of dishes and pads of moving paper. "Are you hungry? Want a pancake? I might have some chocolate or butterscotch chips to put in it," she offers, mixed between scouting for ingredients and looking back at the table for acknowledgment.

He can't let her good efforts go to waste. "Sure. Two of 'em."

She welcomes his attempt at a lighter conversation and throws him a reassuring smile. While in the middle of combining batter, stroking it, and firing the stove, the garbled music from the player goes lower and lower. She wonders if he's turned it down, or left the room. A quick peek over her shoulder finds him still at the table, leaned over with his elbows on his knees and hunting in thought. Back to cooking, April decides, flinging dollops of batter on the counter by mistake. Each pancake hisses and bubbles to perfection, passing the time by a little quickly and basking the kitchen in a homely aroma.

Mikey judges his emotions by the food's cries winding down and April's lack of discussion. He sums up the courage and barrels through his insecurity. "Leo, he, uh," a cough stung his throat, "took things with the Foot and Karai pretty hard. I don't blame him, you know? I've always tried to be there for him, for the whole family. Usually I get through to him, but not this time."

She doesn't turn to face him. The last pancake pops on the grill.

"And Raph had to, you know; he doesn't mean to trip or anything, but he likes to face his problems and Leo didn't want anyone else hurt. Not like he got hurt when she stabbed him, that stupid bitch-" He rubs his forehead profusely and runs his hands down his face. "Sorry, I didn't mean to say it like that, but she's a wacko and she hurt him bad when he tried to be a good guy. He's always a good guy. And he didn't deserve it."

He finally looks up after a small clink comes from the table. His hot food is served before him, along with a sad look from April. "You're all good guys. And she is a bitch."

"I just, you know," he sighs deeply, "wish we could be happy. Well we are sometimes, but it's like the few good times we have are followed by really bad ones, and I think Leo takes that the hardest."

She watches him stare out the window to his left. A long pause grows over the steaming food. Again, she can't come up with anything wise to say. That's usually Splinter's cue.

Mikey cuts his glance back to the table, staring her straight in the eye. "I don't know if he'll come back." He picks up his fork. "I don't blame him. We said some nasty things to each other, babe."

"But every family goes through things like this-"

"I don't think you would call us good guys if you heard it."

"Mikey, it's not like I haven't heard-"

He grazes off a piece of pancake and looks it over disdainfully. "Not like this. We pushed him away. We pushed him away." He bites delicately on the fork and continues the rest in silence. She takes her seat across him, her appetite lost.

Next chapter: Where did Leonardo go?