Silence fell over the room, like the long quiet moments following a loud thunderclap. April stared at Raph for what felt like hours, his words ringing in her ears — she understood what they meant, but it somehow didn't feel real that they applied to her. She looked quickly at Splinter, expecting the mutant rat to look as shocked as she felt, but found him watching her with solemn dark eyes.

"What?" she whispered.

Raph's expression lost none of its fierceness, but his eyes flickered with uncertainty. "You gotta know already," he said, shutting the shoji door behind him. "Almost everybody who knows Donnie knows. It was obvious."

April's hands shook slightly as she set down the teacup, afraid that she would drop it if she didn't. "No, I — I didn't," she said faintly. "How long…?"

"I dunno when he really fell in love with you," Raph said, looking a little shaken. "But I know he started likin' you on the day we took care of Stocktronics and the Mousers once'n for all."

"But — that was the first day we knew each other," April said.

"Yeah, it was. And I saw how Don was lookin' at you."

"He was — looking at me…" April said slowly. A memory flashed into her mind — of Don at the end of that day's adventure, when they were celebrating the destruction of Baxter Stockman's robots. As Splinter had mentioned that she was now out of a job, Don had come towards her with a wide smile on his face. "We'll help you get back on your feet," he had said earnestly. And though April had known him for less than a day, the warm, bright look in his eyes had left her sure that he would give her whatever help he could.

Now that she thought back, that bright warmth had been in his eyes whenever she saw him, over the few years she had known him. She had never seen him without it, and had simply assumed that it was the way he looked all the time — that it was simply his personality.

But it was more than that. He had looked that way when they had embraced less than fifteen minutes ago — had it really been so little time? — watching her with wide, luminous eyes during the brief moment when they hadn't been kissing. He had watched her that way during their captivity, during the brief moments of peace. She should have figured it out long ago…

"I never knew," she said softly.

"Perhaps you were not ready to know," Splinter said quietly. "And perhaps Donatello was not ready for you to know. He showed you his love in what ways he dared, whenever he could."

Another vision flickered through April's memory — of Don tangled in the guts of her furnace, seemingly content to tinker with simpler machines for her convenience. Every time something in her apartment or store had broken, he was always eager to repair it — never expecting a reward or postponing it for his own projects. Had he done those things as silent demonstrations of his feelings for her?

And she remembered other nights he had spent with her — the long hours of experimentation and tinkering long after the other Turtles had collapsed into their beds. It had just been the two of them in the darkened lair, immersed in their joint projects, their minds dancing in perfect tandem as they exchanged ideas, brainstormed together, and sometimes simply talked until dawn, drinking coffee to keep themselves lucid.

Don had always looked so happy when they did that — no matter how tired he became, no matter how frustrating their experiments were. He had been happy, she realized with growing shock, just because she had been there, and they had been together. He had treasured what time he could have with her, not caring that there had been nothing romantic in their long sleepless nights.

He had never said a word to her. Never a hint of what he felt. He had simply stayed in her presence whenever he could, showing his feelings by simply working alongside her.

April looked down at her fists, pressed against her knees. "I never knew," she repeated.

"I still can't believe you didn't figure it out," Raph said. "We've all known since… well, for a long time now. Even Mikey figured it out—"

"But I can't," April said faintly.

Raph stiffened. "Can't?"

"I can't — be with Don," April said, her fingernails digging into her palms.

"Why the shell not?" Raph demanded, his voice rising.

"Raphael —" Splinter said warningly.

April swallowed hard. "Because he — he's only seventeen. I couldn't —"

"Lemme get this straight," Raph said, sounding half irritated and half incredulous. "You ain't rejectin' him for being a mutant turtle. You're pushin' him away because… he's a teenage mutant turtle."

"It isn't right," April said feebly, echoing the words she had spoken to Don. "I'm twenty-four. I was seven years old when he was born — hatched."

Raph slapped a hand against his forehead, and uttered a gravelly groan.

Splinter placed a hand on his shell, and said in a quiet but warning tone, "Be careful, Raphael. Speak wisely."

Raphael grunted. "Maybe it wouldn't be right if we were humans," he said gruffly. He struck his broad chest with a fist. "But we ain't human. Donnie's not a normal seventeen-year-old — he's a ninja, and he's a scientist, and he does stuff that regular teenagers couldn't even start to do. He's more adult than a lot of actual adults I've seen." He leaned forward, staring into April's eyes. "And it ain't like we have lots of options, April. It ain't like Don can just go out and find some seventeen-year-old girl to go to prom with instead of you. We barely know any women, and we don't know any our own age." His hands clenched into fists, and he rose to stalk back and forth across the room.

April watched him pace for a moment, before her gaze sank back down to her hands. She had to admit that Raph made some valid points — she knew that the Turtles couldn't be held entirely to human standards, and their lives were so different from human lives as to be incomparable. Yet she couldn't forget that Don was only seventeen — it made her feel like a predator to think about him in that way…

And there was something else, something Raph didn't know. Don hadn't told him about what had happened between himself and April. She still didn't know how much of Don's current desire was based on his feelings for her, and how much was him seeking comfort in the aftermath of a rape. She didn't know what psychological effects their intercourse might have had on him, or whether he might want to regain that feeling.

"Don't turn him down just 'cause he's young," Raph said abruptly, looking down at her with pleading in his eyes. "He loves you, and he's not gonna stop."

"You have expressed your thoughts well, Raphael," Splinter said, making a gesture with one clawed hand. "Now be quiet."

Raph's eyes were smoldering as he dropped down to his knees, and at first April wasn't sure why. He looked almost angry at her, even though she hadn't done anything — as far as he knew, anyway — to deserve his anger. For a moment she wondered if he somehow knew about what had happened between her and Don during their captivity, and was angry at her for forcing herself on his brother.

But then she remembered what Don had told her: that Raph protected him in battle, that the red-masked Turtle always watched his back. And he wanted to protect Don now, in a different way — he wanted to protect him from heartbreak if April rejected him. And he must think that she was going to reject him, if he was preemptively getting angry at her.

"I need to talk to Donnie," she said faintly. "I need to — I need to sort this out with him."

"I think that would be wise," Splinter said quietly. "But first, Miss O'Neil, I would like to speak to you privately." He looked at Raphael. "You may go, Raphael. And we will speak later about listening at doors."

Raphael looked like he wanted to say something more, but he stepped out of Splinter's room, and closed the door behind him. April heard his footsteps growing fainter, until they heard the distant telltale clink of weights. Apparently he had decided to vent by exercising.

"Unlike Raphael," Splinter said quietly, "I am aware that you are not required to reciprocate Donatello's feelings." He bowed his head slightly, a saddened expression on his face. "However, I also know that he is in a very fragile state at the moment. His spirit has been badly wounded, and such wounds do not heal easily or quickly. They can also deepen if not treated well. Whatever your decision regarding Donatello is, I ask you — as his father — to be careful of his heart."

"I'll — do my best," April said. She still had no idea what she was going to say to Don, and that knotted her stomach with anxiety.

"There is one other thing to speak of," Splinter said, folding his hands. "I did not wish to speak of this before Raphael, since neither yourself nor Donatello has seen fit to share it." He met April's gaze, steadily and serenely. "I know of your… intimacies with Donatello during your captivity."

April felt a deep flush coming over her face. "H—how did you know?" she said haltingly.

He smiled gently. "I am a rat, Miss O'Neil. My sense of smell is extremely acute, and I could smell Donatello's scent on your body, and yours on his. Your mating was obvious to those who know what to detect, though his brothers did not." His smile faded. "I did not speak of it to you before because I believed that you and Donatello had sought solace in one another while you were captives. But since you did not know of Donatello's feelings for you — and neither of you have been forthcoming about what happened — I can only assume that you were forced to mate."

April felt tears pricking her eyes. She bowed her head slightly, and murmured, "Yes, you're right — Racer — he forced me to — to —"

"You need not speak of what happened," Splinter said quietly, placing his hand on hers. "You have been wounded as well as Donatello, even if my sons have not yet learned of it. And though I cannot heal you any more than I can my son, I can offer you my support and care as you recover."

The tears were welling up and trickling down her cheeks now, and April rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. She felt like a raw gash had been torn open inside her chest, but the pain was something of a relief — someone knew what had happened, and they understood. She could feel Splinter's clawed, furry hand resting on her cheek, wiping at the tears as they streamed down to her chin.

Gradually the tears dried, and her damp snuffling and sobs began to fade. Splinter held a scrap of cloth to her face, and April gratefully used it to mop the tears away. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Go," Splinter said quietly. "Speak to Donatello about what has happened. But be gentle with him, and with yourself."