"I'm sorry, April."

Her brow crinkled. "Sorry? Sorry for what?"

"Sorry that I — made you pregnant," Don said, trying not to sound as awkward as he felt.

Her face softened, and she stepped forward, touching her fingertips lightly to his cheeks. Don felt electricity dance over his skin as her hands gently curved against his features, pulling him closer as she moved toward him. "Don, it wasn't your fault."

"If I had known it was possible — I never would have tried —"

"Yes, you would have," April said softly, resting her forehead against his. "You didn't have a choice, remember? Racer made us do it — made me force you to do it. You don't have any of the responsibility for what's happened—"

Don shook his head. "You didn't force me, April. I was willing."

Her eyes were damp, and she was blinking hard at him. "Don, I saw your eyes when we — when we were together." Her hands dropped and gripped his, her delicate fingers digging into his green skin. "You didn't want what had happened. I forced you to—"

"You're right that I didn't want to do it — not like that," Don said slowly, spinning out every word carefully. "But I saw you talking to Racer, and I saw your face when you came back to me. I knew that you weren't mating with me out of your own free will, but because he threatened you somehow. So I — I was willing to do whatever was necessary to keep you safe." One of his hands detached from hers, and was raised in a whisper-soft caress to her cheek. "I would have done anything if it kept them away from you. So I tried my hardest to — respond to you, even though I was paralyzed."

"But when you — afterwards," April said slowly, "you looked so sad, Don."

"I was. I… wanted to love you, April. And I wanted you to love me back, even though I believed it would never happen." His eyes grew darker and more distant, reliving the dark moments they had spent together in the cell. April's hand raised and caught his fingers, letting them curl around hers. "What they made us do was like a sick parody of what I always wanted with you."

April moved closer still, her breath catching as she slipped her arms around his neck, drawing him close until she could feel his warm, broad body pressed against her own. His voice seemed to vibrate through her as he said quietly, "So you didn't force me, April. Racer did. Not you. None of it was your fault."

"I didn't know how you felt about me," April said, pressing her cheek against the top of his head. "I thought you were upset because of what I had done to you. I couldn't understand how you wanted me after that."

"I was upset because I believed you would never want me, and that what we were forced to do was as close as I would ever come…" Don said.

He closed his eyes and leaned against her, waiting for the memory of what had happened to fade away again, but instead it grew stronger. He felt it overwhelming his senses — flashes of mocking voices, of April holding him in her arms, of his feelings of desperation and despair. He felt his body starting to shake, and against his will, tears began to trickle from his eyes. Desperately, he ran a hand over his face, trying to get rid of the tears before April noticed.

But she had already seen them, and he felt her hand on the back of his head. "Don," she said softly, clutching him closer. "I'm so sorry — I wish I could erase what they did to you."

"They did it to you, too," he said in an unsteady voice, clutching at her for support. "That's why — you're pregnant —"

Her grip tightened on him, fiercely holding him close as she whispered inarticulate words of comfort, assuring him that he would be okay, and that he would recover from this. Her soft hair, which smelled faintly of honeysuckle, brushed against his face, and her warm breath washed over his face. Don held her tighter as well, trying to force the memory of fear and trauma from his mind. He couldn't afford to be so fragile now, when even more was depending on him — not only April, but a new, vulnerable life. And the thought of that made his stomach twist…

"Hey, April!" a voice called out. "We got your clothes and stuff! Latest fashions for low low prices!"

Don stiffened, and instinctively let go of April as Mikey's silhouette appeared in the doorway. His brother raced in with a bulging duffel bag in his arms, and dropped it on the bed with a loud thud. His broad smile faltered a little as he saw April, whose arms were still wrapped around Don's shoulders and throat. "Hey, um… am I interrupting something?" he said.

"Just everything, moron," Raph said, heaving the suitcase into the room. "April, what you got in this thing, rocks?"

April gently unwound herself from Don, and gave him a tremulous smile. "It's going to be okay," she whispered, her fingers stroking the sides of his face. "I promise."

Don watched numbly as Raph deposited the suitcase on the bed, with a puff of dust and a loud creak of bedsprings. Then he slowly turned and moved out into the walkway outside, passing Leo on his way into April's room. His mind was still quaking with the memory of his assault, mingled with the warmth and sweetness of April's closeness to him. And then there was the thought of their child…

He needed some time to think. A lot of time to think. In his room.

April stared up at the curving stone ceiling over her, and tried to convince herself to go to sleep.

It wasn't easy. She was grateful to the Turtles for finding the best bed and mattress they could, and lavishing her with blankets and pillows to make a nest of sorts in the now mostly-cleared room. And it was very reassuring, after weeks of gnawing fear, to know that she was as safe as she could be. They were in a secret location that none of their enemies knew of, and the Turtles were all nearby — if she called out for them, they would be awake and at her side in an instant.

She rolled onto her side and looked out the doorway. Faint, monotonous sounds filled the air — the growl of Raph's loud snoring, the rush of water in old pipes. And though the lair was mostly dark, she could see the far-off glow of the TVs and Don's computer equipment. Even when the Turtles were asleep, their home was full of life. Maybe that was why she couldn't sleep.

Or, more likely, it was just that her entire life had been turned upside-down in less than twenty-four hours. She was pregnant with what seemed to be a mutant turtle baby, whose very existence put both of them in danger, and who would be the target of cruel, murderous people if they knew of its existence. Her relationship with Don had somehow become even more complicated. And she was now living in the Turtles' lair again, where she would be hiding at least until her baby was born.

That, and she wasn't used to the bed she was sleeping in. It was like being at a hotel — no matter how nice the bed, it didn't yet feel like hers. It would probably take a few nights before she adjusted.

She lay in the room for a while, her hand absently stroking her stomach as she remembered the things Splinter had said to her. He saw her child as a miracle — a gift. He wasn't blind to her confusion, and had been incredibly caring and compassionate, but he couldn't hide that he was glad. And she thought she had seen some of that in Leo's eyes as well. Mikey seemed pretty energetic about the whole deal, and Raph… she wasn't sure how Raph felt about it. He hadn't said anything either way. Though he had been very concerned about her lifting heavy things…

A whisper of sound caught her ear, causing her to look up. In the dim light of the doorway, a silhouette was standing. A Turtle. She couldn't see his bandana color.

"Don?" she said softly.

He didn't move.

"Is that you?" She raised her head from the pillow.

Without a word, the figure moved through the dark room, his bare feet almost silent on the stone floor. April found herself wondering if he was sleepwalking, or whether he was coming into her room for another reason.

She felt him rather than hearing him — a presence lurking in the darkness behind her back. Just as she was about to turn around to face him, she felt the mattress dip behind her as a weight settled on it, the bedsprings creaking softly. She felt the firmness of a plastron against her back, a gentle pressure that was oddly comforting, and warm breath against the back of her neck. A muscular arm draped itself along the side of her body, the three fingers gently resting against her stomach.

In the minutes that followed, April waited for him to do something else — touch her, or kiss her, or try to make love to her again. But he simply lay behind her, his arm around her, breathing softly and evenly, as if he didn't want or need any more than to be near her. Near her, and near the baby.

She pressed her hand over his, and murmured, "Thank you."

She didn't know if he heard her, or whether he was already asleep. So instead she nestled back against him, feeling his face touching the back of her neck, and his legs curled up behind hers.

Something about having him beside her caused her to relax, and lulled her senses until she fell asleep, with the comforting feeling of his hand against hers. When she woke in the morning, still in the dark, she found that the space beside her was empty, as if no one had been there. She found herself wondering if anyone even had been.