The next six months went by in a painful cycle. Everything would be perfect, then something would set Orson off, he'd beat Hope, he'd apologise, he'd try to make everything right, until it was perfect again.

Hope didn't have the energy to fight him off. As she had no job and nowhere else to stay, she depended on him. No matter how much she hated it. She couldn't see where things went wrong. After she left the lair for good, Orson took her in and it seemed like the perfect set up. She looked after the place, cleaned, cooked for him. He told her how to dress, how to act and she went along with it. The first time she 'didn't cook properly' Orson raised his hand to her, slapped her right across the face. She was so taken aback, so unprepared, she didn't know what to think. Of course he apologised and swore it would never happen again. Inevitably it did, this time because there was a smudge on the kitchen worktop.

The awful cycle of him beating her for ridiculous things, apologising profusely, trying to make it right, then beating her again, went on for so long that Hope hardly ever left the house, in fear of pissing him off.

She missed her boys dearly, but in saying that, she still felt she made the right decision in leaving. She'd loved Donatello for so long that she knew she could never handle them being together.

One evening Orson decided he was going out drinking. It was one of the few times that Hope could seize the opportunity to get out of his house and go for a walk. It was a time when she could be herself again. Her feet took her to the entrance of the sewer. She stared at the manhole cover that had served as her front door for so many years. Memories of the past four years filled her mind.

All those special times she'd spent training with Leonardo, her sensei.

All those hilarious nights she'd spent with Michelangelo reading comics, her baby.

All those stories Raphael told her, her idol.

All those wonderful moments she spent with Donatello in his lab, her soul mate.

She'd begun to forget just how much she actually missed them. It was physically painful thinking of the loss she felt within the empty space they left. She didn't even care if Donatello and April were together; she just wanted her boys back…

"Hope…?"

She spun around to come face to face with Raphael.

"Raph." She whispered. Guilt shot through her like a bullet. She'd left them. All of them. Because of her stupid jealousy. She'd left just like April did. Her breathing quickened until she burst into tears and clung to Raphael.

He studied his missing friend as she sobbed into his plastron. He saw her cuts and bruises. He didn't need her to explain. He knew what was happening to her.

"What the hell has he done to you?" Growled Raphael.

"N-nothing. I'm fine." She wiped her tears and pulled away from him. He gave her a knowing look, but didn't press the issue.

"We miss you, Hope. A lot. I mean, we didn't know where you went. We thought maybe you'd gone back to Scotland, but now I know you were with him all along."

"Raph. I saw them together. That's why I left."

"Donnie and April?"

"Yeah… Is he happy?"

"Of course he's not happy! He needs you in his life!"

"But April-"

"April's gone! Again. She spent one night with him and left. He's been a mess for the past six months, Hope! Can't you just admit you feel about him and come home?!"

"I never ever stopped loving him. But I thought-"

"Oh my god, you complete idiot! It's you, Hope. It's always been you. He's always loved you!"

Hope didn't quite believe it. But it was the first time that anyone had ever confirmed it. Donatello loved her.

"Now that we've got that out of the way, finally, can we please go home?"

"Yes."