A gentle beeping woke Donatello up. It took him a moment to figure out where he was—he had fallen asleep at his desk again, and as he sat up a trail of drool stretched from him mouth. Blearily, he glanced at the computer screen, where a message was flashing.

Solution found, it said.

Donnie rubbed his eyes and stared at the screen as though he had forgotten how to read. Solution to what? He looked up at the clock, which read 1:45 a.m. The computer continued beeping. In annoyance, he clicked 'ok' on the dialogue box and the beeping stopped.

Then, the screen flooded with a complex molecular diagram.

The sight of it jolted Donnie into full consciousness. "No way!" he shouted, then clapped his hands over his mouth.

Elegant and complex, the molecular diagram contained a number of atoms labeled, "unknown element 1," while others were "unknown element 2." A couple were "unknown element 3," but all of the other myriad atoms in the formation were labeled with familiar names from the periodic table.

It was absolutely beautiful. Donnie's heart pounded in his throat.

Retro-mutagen.

Scrambling, he reached for the print-outs he had made of the mutagen's molecular structure. He pinpointed the atoms in that diagram which were also unknown—theoretically, he would be able to separate them out and then recombine them into this new structure. Figuring out how to form the new molecule without causing an explosion would be a lot of work. But, with the help of his computer, he might be able to find a way to cause the chemicals to bond properly.

"Donatello!" Splinter hissed.

Donnie jumped and looked over at the door. "Hai, Sensei," he said.

"What are you doing? I've told you—"

"I found it, Master Splinter!" Donnie said. "The formula!"

Splinter's eyes widened. He was silent for a moment. "You mean-"

"The retro-mutagen, yes!"

Splinter, apparently having forgotten all irritation with Donnie for not being asleep, ran to look at the computer screen. "You know for certain?"

"Theoretically, this would cause an inverse reaction of the mutagen. I haven't assembled the molecule yet—it's going to be a lot of tricky chemistry. Then I'll need to do testing once I've done that."

Splinter seemed mesmerized by the diagram on the screen. After a moment, he shook his head gently and turned to look at Donnie. "I am very proud of you, my son."

Donnie grinned and bowed his head to Master Splinter. "Thank you, Sensei."

"Now, save your work and go to sleep."

"But—I need to start all of this—"

"Sleep!"

With a sigh, Donnie saved all of his notes and printed off an extra copy of the retro-mutagen molecular diagram. When he finally turned off the computer, he glanced at Splinter. Splinter seemed like he was a million miles away, absentmindedly stroking his beard. Donnie couldn't make out exactly what his sensei might be thinking, but that was Splinter for you. "Is everything okay, Sensei?"

Splinter started slightly. "Indeed, Donatello. But now, sleep is in order."

"Hai, Sensei."

As Donnie headed to his bedroom, he could hardly contain the excitement that swelled up inside his heart. He was one step closer to the finished product.

One step closer to helping April recover.

As she walked toward the lunch room at school, April couldn't prevent the little bounce in her step. It turned out that April's Hope had come through for her after all. When Donnie had announced his discovery at breakfast, everyone had cheered. April thought she was going to explode with happiness and hopefulness.

To top everything off, Mei had packed her a lunch. April always hated listening to her friends gripe about the lunches their moms had packed for them—she would have given anything to have a mom do the same for her. When Mei had handed the brown bag to her with a smile and a hug, April nearly burst into tears.

Everything seemed to be coming together. For the first time, April felt certain that she would soon be healed from her trauma. I'm already better, she thought cheerfully. I'm happy and excited. Everything will be perfect soon. Just the way it should be.

Her bouncy step carried her to her locker, where she deposited her morning books in exchange for her afternoon ones. She glanced in the mirror to check if her headband was straight.

Casey Jones was standing behind her.

Her heart fell into her stomach. She actually saw the color drain from her reflection.

"Hey, Red, I need to talk to you."

April whirled around, torn between anger and fear. "Go away, Jones."

"Look, I owe you an explanation."

"You got that right," April snapped. "But I don't need one. I know what you did to me. What you sold me out for."

Casey frowned. "Leo told you."

"Actually, he didn't. Donnie did. Leo had to tell him before he would change the phone combinations. Donnie thought I deserved the truth. Unlike you."

"Look, Red…"

"Don't call me that," April said, tears welling up in her eyes. "Don't call me anything. I don't ever want to see your face or hear your voice again." She slammed her locker shut and started to walk away.

"I meant what I said," Casey pleaded. "I care about you more than I've ever cared about anyone else. I can't stop thinking about you. How I hurt you. I'm sorry, April. You have no idea how sorry."

April turned around. She felt her lips tighten as she bared her teeth involuntarily. "Sorry won't cut it."

"I've been dry for weeks now."

"Who cares? You'll just flip again."

Casey's face fell. He looked like April had planted a knife straight into his heart. "That's what I tell myself every day. But I can't stop trying. I can't lose another friend—another girlfriend—to my problems. I love you, April. I meant that."

Tears spilled out of April's eyes. She tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to rack her lungs.

"I'm sick, April. I know that. I know I'm a big effing loser that doesn't deserve a second chance. But I love you. I really do."

An uncontrollable wave of emotions swept over April at once. Memories of the elation she felt at their first kiss; the fear and excitement that had flooded her when Casey professed his love to her on the phone. Assault and nakedness and terror. Betrayal and heartbreak. The urge to pull her tessen out and end Casey's life right there on the spot.

Then, softer emotions. The security of Donnie's embrace. Donnie's love and loyalty. His understanding of Casey's illness, and the forgiveness that he urged April to give.

But April had none of Donnie's gentleness. She knew exactly what to say that would twist the knife of Casey's pain and regret even deeper into his heart. He deserved to suffer for what he had done to her.

"I'm with Donnie now."

The pain that spasmed across Casey's face granted April dark satisfaction. She spun on her heels and walked away as fast as she could. Casey didn't follow her, and she didn't look back.

Nevertheless, his words haunted her for the rest of the day. She started having waking flashbacks of her trauma again. Repeatedly, she had to leave classes so that she could vomit in the restroom. He loved her? He loved her? How dare he? How dare he!

As she packed up the contents of her locker to take home, she began to feel waves of guilt. He may have deserved to be hurt, but it was wrong of her to hurt him even more. He was, as he had said, sick. In a way, he really couldn't help it.

He didn't mean to do it. He really did love me. Does love me. No! I can't trust him ever again. He's probably lying to get close to me again, so that Shredder can get at the turtles. Get at me. Finish the job.

She nearly screamed at the thought.

She wanted to hide. She didn't want to talk to anyone. She didn't want anyone to look at her. Not Donnie, not Mei, not Leo. They would just see her emotional nakedness. She couldn't handle that. It would be better to be alone and terrified than exposed and raw in front of everyone's prying eyes.

Instead of heading home for the sewers, April took the bus back to her apartment. Once inside, she shut the rest of the world out with a loud, final click.

It was too much. It was still too much. She was still too exposed. Someone might find her. She couldn't do it. She couldn't keep going on like this. She couldn't. Couldn't. Couldn't.

Couldn't.

She was utterly detached. It was like she was watching herself from far away. Her heart racing, her face cold, her hands shaking violently, she ran into the kitchen. She opened a drawer like she was opening her own casket.

Her shell of a body reached into the drawer and pulled out the sharpest knife inside.

She wouldn't have to keep going on like this. She wouldn't have to let anyone ever look at her again.

She could be free.

She would be.

She would.