The days that passed became steadily more pleasant for April. Don seemed calmer and more relaxed now that he knew their baby was developing normally, and she caught him more than once gazing at the photographs Leatherhead had taken of their child. One of the clearer ones had been taped to the side of his computer, so he could turn his head and see it whenever he was working.

He seemed to be growing more sure of himself with every passing day — he sparred with his brothers in the mornings, though with the brittle awareness of everything that touched him. He was still jumpy at times, especially when someone was behind him, but his confidence and strength seemed to be growing.

And because of that, the Turtles ventured out into the city more often, battling the Foot Clan and thwarting Shredder's attempts to collect Triceraton technology. April never told them that her heart was in her throat every time they went out. Don's kidnapping and rape had broken the veneer of invincibility that the four had, the same way that Leo almost being beaten to death by Shredder's Elite Guard had. It was the awareness that for all their strength, all their skill, they were still mortal. She felt something unclench inside her every time they came back, unhurt and alive.

Casey came around more often as well, and remained friendly and supportive whenever he did — he would hang out with Raph most of the time, and the two of them would roam around the streets on their motorcycles. April still wasn't sure how much the Turtle had told him about her relationship with Don, but Casey seemed to have figured out a great deal of it himself. It didn't hurt that he had found them half-asleep and cuddled together on the sofa one afternoon.

Don, however, acted oddly whenever Casey came around. He would become very quiet and immediately immerse himself in a gadget or experiment, not looking at April unless she addressed him directly. His insecurities worried April — she knew he wouldn't cause trouble, but the discomfort her interactions with Casey caused struck at her heart.

Fortunately, Don didn't seem to be so troubled when Casey wasn't around. Almost every night he slept in her bed — sometimes, especially when he was up late with his work, he would simply slip under the covers and nestle in behind her. She half-woke on those nights to feel a strong arm curling around her body, warm breath stirring her hair, and a plastron pressed against her back. Then they both fell asleep.

Some nights they lay close to one another, speaking softly of things that were on their minds — experiments and projects, Don's outings with his brothers, and the baby. April treasured these soft, intimate moments with her lover, wrapped in blankets and clinging to one another, their arms wound around each other as they softly spoke words meant for no one else.

And on most nights, they would make love. April found that she craved it as she never had before in her life — once she came home early, and nearly dragged Don up to her bedroom. At first, she blamed it on the hormones that the baby was stirring up; her books on pregnancy did warn that some women became ravenous for sex.

But there was something more to it than that. Something about making love to Don touched her in a way deeper than the physical. Maybe it was that he was so quietly joyous about being with her, so that the happiness seemed to radiate from him — from his eyes as she kissed him feverishly, from his body as they strained and gasped, entwined tightly together. If she could have somehow made Don look that way forever, she would have done it. Afterwards, they lay in each other's arms, April closing her eyes as she felt Don's hands gently stroking her hair and skin.

And they took the opportunity to learn something about what the other liked. Don had been almost a virgin when he had sneaked out to meet her that first time, so he didn't really know what he enjoyed. But April soon discovered that he enjoyed being kissed along the edges of his plastron scutes, that trailing her lips along his belly caused him to tremble under her. And in turn, she taught him where and how to touch her. She had always known that his thick-fingered hands were more dextrous than they looked — after all, he was able to type as fast as she could, and handled tools with the precision of a surgeon — but she had never known just how much.

But other things happened at night — things that were far less pleasant. Only a week after their relationship began, April woke to the sound of harsh, strangled sounds, almost cries, coming from beside her in the bed. She rolled over, her eyes still bleared with sleep and blinking in the faint light of a desk lamp.

It was Don, his olive-green skin drenched in sweat and his limbs rigid as logs. His face was locked in a pained grimace, and his eyes were tightly shut, as if he was trying to shut out whatever was tormenting him. When she touched his arm, his other hand clamped on her wrist. Splinters of cracking pain shot through her forearm, and she flinched — he was holding her too tightly, with all his considerable mutant strength.

"Don!" April said desperately, gripping his shoulder. He was heavier than she was, and she could barely shake him. He seemed to be straining against something, and drawing his legs up.

April bit her lip, and pressed herself against him. "Don," she whispered in his ear. "It's all right, Don — you're safe — you're with me, Don — none of this is real — just relax — Don —"

For a moment he remained rigid, his breath coming in harsh gasps. Then he slowly began to relax, his hand sliding from her wrist as the tension seeped from his body. "It's okay, Don," she whispered. "You're safe."

"April?" His voice was barely a whisper.

"You're with me, Don," she said quietly, resting her head against his. "He's gone. He can't hurt you."

He was quiet for a moment, then a tremor ran through his body. "I thought — I thought I was — getting better," he said, his voice choking.

April held him close, gently stroking her fingers over his huddled shoulders, feeling the damp patches of skin on his face. He returned the hug by fiercely clutching her to him, her cheek resting on the top of his head. For a moment she wasn't sure why, but then he murmured, "Don't go." Suddenly it became painfully obvious why — she had pushed him away at first because he was still so wounded by his abduction and rape. Perhaps he was afraid that she would push him away now that she knew that he was still haunted by what had happened to him, even after so much struggle.

She had to show him that that wasn't going to happen, that she wasn't going to abandon him. So she gently curled an arm around his neck, and pressed her lips to his head. She could feel his breath coming in halting, warm gasps against the skin of her throat as he tried to calm down.

Eventually she pulled back slightly, though she kept her arms firmly wrapped around him. He looked so young in the faint lamplight, staring up at her with wide dark eyes. She could see the shreds of his nightmare in his face, gleaming like shards of bone.

"You're going to be all right," she whispered. "Just give it time."

Then April held Don close again, until the shaking died away and his breathing grew soft and even. As her head rested against his pillow, murmuring soft comforting words, she felt hot tears welling up in her eyes as she thought of what he must be thinking, remembering. Of the horrifying minutes when she had seen and heard him be raped, his body helplessly pressed against the bars as Racer had violated him. She hadn't been able to save him, and she felt guilt over that gnawing at her core.

And now, that pain was still inside him like a searing shard lodged in his soul. She wished she could reach into his body and simply pull it out. But all she could do was hold him close, and try to soothe him when the memories came back.

It wasn't the last time in those weeks that Don suffered from nightmares. He had a few more nights where he woke up slicked with sweat and gasping from remembered pain. And every time, April held him and whispered comforting words, until his memories subsided back into the shadows of his mind.