Don's bedroom was quiet and dark as April passed it, except for a feeble flicker of light from his desktop lamp. She leaned in the door, looking for any sign that he was still awake — but no, there was a mound of blankets on his bed above her, moving slightly with every breath. She could see his arm flung out over the edge.

For a moment, she was tempted to creep up those stairs to where he was lying, and simply lie beside him as he had once lain beside her. Let him feel her against him, even as he slept. But she knew that he would probably wake up if she did that, and he needed to sleep — especially since she knew nothing would dislodge him from the ultrasound project when he finally awoke. So she slipped away to her own room.

She felt vaguely drained after her encounter with Casey, and a glance at her glowing digital clock told her that she had only had a few hours of sleep the night before. "I'm being tired for two now," she murmured in the direction of her own stomach.

She flicked on the light, and slipped off the clothes that had begun to feel grimy with sweat. After wrapping herself in a thin cotton robe, she sank onto her bed and nestled among her pillows and blankets. The lair was always pleasantly cool, even in the middle of summer or winter — a benefit of being deep underground — and the sound of water rushing through the pipes was strangely comforting. She stared up at the curved ceiling and thought about Don. About the ache inside her that left her craving the Turtle's presence. About the flood of emotions that Casey had accidentally unleashed, past the defenses she had erected in her mind…

She shivered and rolled onto her side, running her hand down her stomach under her robe, stroking her skin absently. Memories flooded through her mind — Don's arms around her, holding her close to him. He was shorter than she was, but she knew he was strong enough that he could have lifted her off the floor without much effort.

Her eyelids drooped, and she snuggled into her pillows and blankets. When she had gotten some sleep, she would take Don aside from his work — tell him how she felt —

She didn't realize that she had fallen asleep until she was halfway awake again, her body heavy and her eyes misty. She could hear the Turtles going about their business down below — Leo's swords slashing through the air and clashing with Master Splinter's walking stick, Raph grunting as he struck his bag. And as she sank back into her dreams, she felt three-fingered hands moving down her body, heard a familiar soft voice…

"April…"

Suddenly arms were around her, lifting her from the bed and then gently placing her back against the pillows. April blinked blearily up at the green face over her.

"Sorry," Don said quietly. "I didn't mean to wake you up. But you were about to roll off the bed."

"Don?" April said, still fuzzy with sleep.

He smiled down at her, a little sadly. "You should go back to sleep," he said, holding her hand.

But April was already sitting up, brushing her disheveled hair out of her face. "Don — I have to talk to you about something," she said.

He seemed to flinch. "I know."

"You — you know?"

"I saw you talking to Casey, April." He added hastily, "I didn't hear anything — I wasn't listening in or anything. But I saw you together from my room."

April's eyes widened. So he had seen her hug Casey — a hug that had probably gone on too long — and had come to the wrong conclusion. He thought that she was spurning him for Casey. That what they had had experienced together, felt together, hadn't been enough for her to fall in love with him. It probably hadn't taken much for him to believe that she would choose her ex-boyfriend over him, after she had already voiced her concerns about getting into a relationship with him.

And looking at him now hurt her heart. Sadness was trickling through his face, despite his best efforts to keep it from showing. His broad shoulders were slumped slightly, and his voice sounded slightly husky. He had clearly been preparing himself for this moment for a long time, but it was still hurting him to talk about it.

"Don," April said softly, pressing her hand to his cheek. "Let me explain what you saw—"

"It's all right, April," Don said, summoning a sickly smile, but casting down his dark eyes. "Casey is the logical choice for you — he's your own kind, he can give you a life I never could, and he loves you. He loves you — a lot. I understand completely, and I'm all right with it." He took a deep breath. "I'll just be our baby's father, no more. "

April raised her other hand to his shoulder, pulling him closer to her body. "Don," she said quietly. "Shut up and kiss me."

Silence fell over the room. She felt Don stiffen against her, saw his eyes widen in shock at what she had said to him. His hands came up almost automatically to grip her arms, and he pulled her closer still without even seeming to realize it. The misery in his eyes was suddenly eclipsed by something else — an almost reluctant flash of happiness — and he stared at her with hope blooming across his face. Hope, and confusion.

April leaned forward, resting her forehead against Don's. She desperately wanted to pin him down and kiss him until he couldn't breathe. She wanted to kiss him until they both saw stars. She wanted to love him fiercely, passionately. But she couldn't do that — after all he had been through, she wouldn't touch him unless he told her that he wanted it.

"Please," she said softly. "Kiss me."

Don gave her a strangely bittersweet smile, but he didn't need to be told a third time. Suddenly his lips were on hers, moving with greater surety and less clumsiness than he had last time, his wider tongue deftly entwining with hers as she pushed deeper into the kiss.

Don's hands slowly roamed over her body, and eventually settled in place, one resting lightly against the small of her back, and the other between her shoulder blades. He was strong enough that she felt almost weightless, as if he were lifting her without even meaning to. Her hands rose to rest on the lip of his shell, her hands clinging to it tightly, as if afraid that he was going to slip away if she didn't hold on to him. And she was pulling him closer, closer.

Clutching at his shell, April inched her lower body closer to Don's. Her robe slipped aside, as she moved her bare legs around his muscular thighs. She could feel him stiffen at the more intimate touch, and waited until he relaxed again to draw him against her.

He broke their kiss with a gasp. "A—April," he said breathlessly. "Is this what you really want?"

She took a few deep breaths, her lips burning where Don had touched them. "Of course it is," she said, looking into his eyes. "Why are you even asking?"

He didn't answer. He just kissed her again, more tenderly than before, his thick fingers running over her hair. When he had kissed her before, there had been a feeling of desperation that had driven him to act that way — if he hadn't been hurting, April knew he would never have embraced her. But that desperation was gone now, and there was only the slow-burning passion that had quietly driven him for as long as he had known her. It was a relief to April — if he had still not been healed enough, she might have hesitated. Waited. And she didn't want to wait.

She began sinking backwards, into the nest of pillows and blankets, pulling Donnie along with her. When she stopped moving, she was lying on a woolen afghan with her head resting against some pillows. Don was poised above her, her legs wound around his hips, his face looking down at hers with an expression so painfully, exquisitely loving that it took her breath away. He moved down into her arms, capturing her lips in one last kiss as —

— something metal clattered out in the lair.

Every muscle in April's body seemed to lock up, and Don's face suddenly went completely blank. Both of their faces turned towards the doorway — that had sounded like one of Leo's swords being dropped. In fact, that was probably exactly what had happened.

And April was just now remembering that her room didn't have a door. At all. The doorway was just a hexagonal hole in the wall, the same as it was for the Turtles' bedrooms. Don's brothers could probably hear everything that was going on in her room — every moan, every gasp… and if they continued on their current path, every cry.

April felt her cheeks flush at the idea that Don's brothers knew what they were doing — and worse, had probably heard them. Don had probably been thinking the same thing. He uttered a pained groan and slumped towards her, burying his face in her shoulder.

"I know," April said, barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry…"

She uncoiled her legs from his body, and gently rolled him onto his side. Don uttered another groan and threw an arm over her, as if unwilling to give up contact entirely. April could sympathize with his frustration — she almost wished that Leo hadn't dropped that sword, so she and Don could simply have consummated their feelings. Even if it would have been horribly embarrassing later on, and she probably wouldn't be able to look his family in the eye for at least a month.

"How can we—" Don began to say.

April shushed him, and gently pressed her lips to his. When she broke the kiss, she whispered, "Meet me at the Battle Shell at nine tonight."

He stared at her blankly, probably wondering if she planned to make love in the Battle Shell rather than in her own, far more comfortable bed. But then he sighed and swung his legs off the bed, and slipped out into the lair, looking unfulfilled and crestfallen.

April let her head fall back against the pillow, and closed her eyes. It was going to be a long day.