I'm so sorry for the long wait and sorry this chapter isn't that long.
Casey couldn't believe this.
What the hell does April know about mutants? Why the fuck is she on their side?
She knows NOTHING. Absolutely fucking NOTHING.
He kicks an empty can, sending it clattering violently against the pavement. The sound echoes, but it's not enough. Not nearly enough. His hands rake through his hair, nails biting into his scalp, the sting barely cutting through the frustration boiling beneath his skin.
"Stupid. This is so fucking stupid," he growls, his voice dripping with rage.
"Casey!"
His head snaps around at the sound of her voice, that all-too-familiar red hair catching the dim light. Great. Just fucking great.
He clicks his tongue sharply, the sound cutting through the tension like a whip. "Go away, Red."
Her steps are deliberate, dragging, like even she's exhausted of this shit.
"You know, what you did back there was quite rude. Donnie took time to stitch your arm—a quick thank you wouldn't hurt—"
"I said, go away."
But she doesn't. Of course, she doesn't. Her steps stop as she drags a long sigh through her lips.
"Jesus, Casey, what is wrong with you lately?"
He spins toward her, his teeth bared in a sneer. "What's wrong with me?!" He stalks forward, his towering frame eclipsing her. "No, what the hell is wrong with you, April?!"
She stands her ground, but he sees it—the quick flash of uncertainty in her eyes.
"With me? Are you kidding? I wasn't the one who tried to kill someone who didn't do a damn thing!"
"I wasn't killing an innocent life!"
"He was harmless, Casey!"
"HE WAS A MUTANT!"
The words rip from him like a snarl, venom dripping from every syllable. She flinches, but he doesn't stop, can't stop. It's like the fury has taken root inside him, twisting and choking out every rational thought.
"Because he's a mutant?" April scoffs, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "You serious? That's your reason?"
The raven-haired clicked his tongue again, turning away from his so-called friend. "Of course you wouldn't understand—"
"Actually?" she snapped, stepping forward, her voice low and heated, "I don't."
He doesn't understand. He can't. Why them?
Why them? They're animals. Monsters. He's seen the news—murders, assaults, robberies, kidnappings. All of it rising. All of it tied to mutants.
And April? April is everything good. She's sweet, loyal, top of her class—practically a walking science fair trophy. And now she's tangled up with the same creatures dragging this city into hell.
"What do you even see in them?" he scoffs. "You could've had any friends in the world. And you chose them? Over anyone at school? Actually, not just school—literally any humans on Earth!"
April rolls her eyes, but her voice stays calm—cutting. "Maybe that says more about humans than it does about mutants."
"The hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Oh come on, Casey," she said, exasperated. "You know exactly what I meant."
He let out a laugh—harsh, hollow. Maybe there was a trace of humor in it. This fight was so ridiculous he couldn't help it.
"Oh sure, sure," he said mockingly. "Because being besties with a bunch of sewer-dwelling turtles is just so much better, right?"
April's glare sharpened. Her jaw tightened, lips drawn in a thin line. "Is it so bad," she snapped, matching his tone, "if I say they are?"
That stopped him cold. Chest tightening. Fumes spewing.
"You—" he bit his lip, took a breath. "You don't know what you're talking about."
She stayed silent, letting him explain himself.
"You think they're heroes 'cause they have these cool super abilities and super cool ninja skills," he scoffs, voice pitching up mockingly as he throws up jazz hands like he's on a stage. "And they're so strong and brave! Wow!"
April doesn't even flinch. She just stands there—unmoving, dead serious. Like she's watching a toddler throw a tantrum and waiting for him to wear himself out.
Casey notices. And it pisses him off even more.
He waves a hand dismissively in the air, like he's trying to brush away her entire argument. "You've only seen their best sides. That's it. But people are scared of them. I'm scared. We've seen what mutants can do. You should be too."
"I was," she said in an instant in an odd calm manner, her unwavering tone almost chilling. "At first. But then they saved me. Not a human being. Not even you."
That hit like a punch to the gut. But Casey wasn't about to admit a girl could cut him that deep with words alone.
"Well maybe if you told me, I would've been there!"
"But you weren't there!" she said, not yelling, just saying it. The truth. "And I'm not blaming you. I'm just telling you what happened."
She took a breath, voice tightening.
"They saved me. And they didn't have to."
Casey stared, stunned. Bewildered. Like the air had been knocked clean out of him. Then he laughed again—louder this time. Uglier.
"Oh, wow. That's rich."
April opened her mouth, but he cut her off, voice sharp as a blade.
"No seriously, congrats! You've got your own little superhero team just for you!"
"Casey—"
"No, don't. Don't act like they're saints sent from heaven. They're not. Far from it. You think just because they saved you they're New York's protectors? They've got weapons, April! Real ones. They could kill someone—and they probably have!"
"So do the police." April snaps back. "So does the military. So do you, Casey. It's not about what they carry—it's what they do with it."
His voice cracks with fury. "For god's sake—they live in the goddamn sewer, April!"
She steps forward. Her voice like iron. "And yet they've done more for this city than you ever have."
He freezes.
That hurts.
But he doesn't show it.
"Fine. What makes them better than me? Huh? Tell me, what have they done that makes them better?"
April's voice doesn't waver. "They haven't beaten up an innocent person. Haven't—"
"Person?" Casey cuts in. "You called that thing a person?"
She doesn't blink. "He might not be human. But he's alive."
Casey groans, pinching his temples like he could crush the headache into submission. "Jesus Christ, we're still on this?"
April stands firm. "Because you still won't admit you were wrong."
"That thing was anythung but a human. It's Lurking in an alley, glaring at its new prey. Who knows what it was planning."
"His name is Raphael," she hisses, and something in her tone slices through his anger. "He was weak. Malnourished. And you almost killed him."
Casey's fists clench so hard his nails leave marks.
"I was eliminating a threat."
"You think that makes you a hero?"
"I AM a hero!"
"No, Casey." Her voice was low but sharp enough to cut steel. "You weren't."
"YOU don't get it, April! My God– how many time do I have to tell you! These things are dangerous! No matter how smart you think you are, you're still blind to what they really are!"
"And you think attacking someone defenseless makes you the good guy?" she snaps. "These mutants are alive—and they deserve better."
A dry, choking sound escaped Casey's throat—something between a snort and a scoff. "You've gotta be kidding me. Are you actually serious?"
"I am dead serious." Her hands were trembling now, clenched at her sides. "You have the guts to stand here and tell me they're dangerous, yet those turtles have been saving everyone's asses without anyone knowing! They're risking their lives out there to make sure New York stays safe, and the world repays them by shunning them out."
She took a shaky breath. Her lips quivered, but her eyes never broke from his.
"They saved so many people. Hell—they saved me, Casey. Me. Do you get that? Do you even hear what I'm saying?"
Her voice cracked. "They saved me. When no one else was there."
Casey's chest rose and fell, breath shallow. His eyes flicked to April, then down to the ground. He opened his mouth like he had something to say, but nothing came out.
April took a step forward, not out of anger—but conviction.
"So go on. Tell me they're dangerous. But don't you dare pretend you know them better than I do."
Surprisingly, he didn't.
Casey took in a breath, slow and heavy, before muttering under his breath, "Whatever."
And without another word, he turned and walked out of the lair.
With everything that's been happening, April is just exhausted.
She was hoping Casey would understand—that he wasn't like everyone else in this lost-cause city.
Don't get her wrong, she doesn't hate New York. This is where she grew up, where she made friends, went on dumb high school dates, and had father-daughter dinners at greasy diners with her dad. These streets are home. Full of memories she'll carry to her grave.
And yet, there's still that bitter ache in her gut. A quiet disappointment that lingers every time she walks past the people on these sidewalks—people who have no idea what the turtles give up, how often they put their lives on the line for strangers who wouldn't even look twice at them if they passed by.
They inconvenience themselves. They suffer. They bleed for a city that doesn't know their names.
But reality doesn't care about fairness. And some stories just don't get happy endings.
April lets out a heavy sigh and turns on her heel, ready to slip into whatever quiet corner the lair will offer her tonight.
"You alright, April?"
She freezes for just a second. Then her gaze lifts to find the familiar figure standing under the soft glow of a hallway light.
"Oh. Leo." She hesitates. "How… how much did you hear?"
He presses his lips into a thin line. "Not everything," he says, gaze dropping to the floor. "But… enough."
"I see…"
April rubs the back of her neck, trying to massage out the tension lodged in her bones. Her voice is barely above a whisper. "I… I'm sorry you had to hear all that."
Leo steps a little closer, his voice calm. "It's nothing, don't worry about it."
She lets out a humorless chuckle and leans against the nearest wall. "I guess I should've known that would happen. Or… I don't know. Maybe I was the one who messed up…"
The blue turtle's gaze softens. He reaches out and places a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Hey, don't beat yourself up. You didn't do anything wrong."
Despite the warmth of his hand and the reassurance in his words, she couldn't stop the flare of heat boiling beneath her skin.
"Leo, you…" She bites her lip as she ignores the knot in her throat. "You guys don't deserve this."
From the corner of her eye, she sees his shoulder stiffen, like she just hit a hidden spot in his chest that not a lot of people would take notice of.
"I know…" he says, his voice laced with sorrow.
So why? April wanted to ask. Why do you let these people hurt you and your family? Over and over again? Why do you guys have to risk their lives for the city? Why do you guys have to live in the shadows, as if your very existence is a curse to humanity?
Her lips part slightly to speak, but the words catch somewhere in her throat. They feel too heavy on her tongue.
Because deep down, she's always known.
Because the reality is that they didn't have a choice. They never wanted this. And that's what pained her the most.
Leo breaks the silence first. "Thank you, by the way."
She blinks. "For what?"
He gives a soft chuckle. "For a lot, honestly. But mostly… for standing up for us back there. You didn't have to."
April looks at him for a moment before offering a small smile. "I wanted to."
Her words linger between them, warm and honest. He nods, his expression thoughtful. "Casey said something back there… about how you could've had any friends in the world."
"Yeah," she says, her voice steady. "And I'd still choose you guys."
He doesn't answer right away, but that gets a small smile out of him.
"You mean that?"
"Every word," April says simply. "You're my friends. And honestly? Some of the best people I know."
Leo doesn't say anything for a beat. Then, with quiet sincerity, "That means a lot."
April chuckles softly. "Well, it's the truth. I just wish… I wish it was enough to make the rest of the world see it."
"It might never be," Leo says. "But to us? It is."
April huffs a satisfied sigh before glancing down the hallway—the direction Casey disappeared into. Her chest feels heavy, like something important is slipping away.
"Do you think he'll come back?" she asks, barely above a whisper.
Leo's gaze follows hers, tracing the path Casey disappeared down just minutes ago. Silence stretches between them, thick and thoughtful.
"I dont know." he admits softly, his voice as steady as it is uncertain. "Maybe not soon. Maybe not at all."
April's lips press into a thin line, her shoulders tightening.
"But…" Leo continues, his tone warmer now, more grounded. "If he does—if he finds his way back… we'll be here. That's all we can do."
He pauses, glancing over at her again.
April takes a beat before her muscles finally relax. "Yeah… I guess that's all we can do." She nods.
Silence settles between them again. Not uncomfortable—but weighty. There's still so much unsaid, so many problems being left unsolved, but for now, it's enough.
Leo shifts slightly, glancing toward the kitchen. "Anyway…" he says, voice lighter now, trying to ease the tension just a little. "Would you mind helping me make some food? I'm not that great in the kitchen. Mikey would be so mad at me if I tried going in there alone again."
April blinks, caught off guard by the sudden change in tone—then lets out a soft chuckle. "Yeah, sure. No problem."
They head toward the kitchen, their footsteps echoing quietly in the lair. The emotional weight doesn't vanish—but it softens, tucked away, like something packed gently into a drawer to be opened another time.
Strange, isn't it? Just moments ago, it all felt like a fever dream—the yelling, the heartbreak, the bitter taste of disappointment and betrayal. Now it lingers like a distant echo. Still there, but quieter.
For now, the small comfort of domestic normalcy with her new friends was enough.
"What about some eggs and toast?" April offers, glancing sideways at Leo with a faint smile. "Easy enough, right?"
Leo raises an eyebrow, smirking. "Yeah, you say that—but you'd be surprised how badly I can mess up plain eggs and toast."
April snorts softly. "Well, then we're doomed."
He laughs under his breath, reaching for a random frying pan. "Guess we'll find out."
April steps beside him, nudging him with her elbow. "Just try not to burn the lair down. I don't think Splinter would forgive us for that."
He laughs. "No, he'd kill me first—before Mikey even gets the chance."
She laughs with him, the sound light and genuine.
Yeah. This is enough—for now.