Another update! I'm sorry this one took a bit longer than anticipated. But I want to thank you all for being so supportive through this story! I may change this chapter's name later...but for now, I think it will work. There was one anon review, so:

RedLion2: Thank you so, so much! I'm really glad you're enjoying the story. And you're very right one all counts. Don is taking it rather hard, and everyone just wants to be sure he's okay. Except for him. He's more concerned about April and her dad. But seriously, thank you for the review! *hugs*

And so, onward to the next chapter!

Raphael peered over the page of his comic, tired of reading the same paragraph over and over and not comprehending a word. Leonardo and Michelangelo had finally fallen asleep after waking Donatello for a second and third time, dithering over him even after he fell back asleep. The last wake-up call was up to him, and though his eyes burned and every muscle in his body ached from sleep deprivation, he refused to sleep. Closing his eyes showed only that woman aiming for Donatello, and his hands still itched at the sight. Leo had said it often enough over the course of their vigil: if Raphael hadn't thrown his sai, it would have been a direct hit.

"You know, for a smart one, you sure make a lot of idiotic moves," Raphael hissed, glaring at Donatello's sleeping body. All he got in response was the steady breathing of his brothers. Rolling his eyes, Raphael threw his comic book away and folded his arms, eyes flashing. "You sure have a lot of nerve, making everyone worry about you like this. Especially Mikey! You know what a sissy he can be when it comes to stuff like this. And what about April? Did you think about her? Did you think about what something like this would do to her? Why didn't you just fall back until I-we got there? I mean, what's a stick supposed to do against someone who..."

Raphael trailed off, the burning anger vanishing from his chest. He shook his head and stood, stepping over his sleeping brothers to wake Donatello. Don had never stayed up for more than a few minutes at a time the last few calls, and Raphael didn't expect this to be any different. He grabbed Don's shoulders and gave him a few light shakes, stepping back when Don's eyes snapped open.

"Wha-what-oh." Donatello relaxed back into the couch, blowing out a sigh when he caught sight of Raph. Raphael watched Donatello's left hand travel and rest on the burn. His hand rubbed the bandages wrapped around it, eyes squinting in what Raphael guessed was pain.

"Hold on," Raph said. Donatello's eyes flickered to Raphael's shell as he left the room. Raphael pressed a hand to his throbbing head when he was sure he was out of sight. Seeing Donatello awake and somewhat alert sent a wave of relief through his chest, but his exhaustion thrummed through him anew. He shook his head, growling when it only pounded harder.

When he reached the medicine cabinet he swung it open with enough force to crack it against the wall. The noise grated him, but he snatched a small bottle of aspirin from the shelf, followed by a plastic cup, filling it with water.

"You better still be up, Don." Raphael stopped when he saw Donatello sitting up, clutching his right arm and hissing. "Donnie!" Raphael whispered harshly, glancing toward his brothers to be sure they were still asleep. "What are you doing, you idiot?"

"Trying to get up. Or was that not obvious?" Donatello's eye ridges rose when Raphael thrust the water and medicine at him. He took them both, eyes softening. "Thanks, Raph."

"Whatever." Raph watched Don until he took the medicine and put the bottle and cup on the coffee table. Silence stretched between the two, Raphael studying Donatello out of the corner of his eye, gaze darkening the more he saw.

Don would rub his injured arm, only to bite his lip and close his eyes when his fingers brushed the bandages. Don stifled a groan and held his head, turning from Raph as if to hide it. The old bruises from their fight with the Shredder seemed darker, and every movement Don made stiff and slow.

"What happened?" Raphael waited until Don faced him again, eyes lowered to his lap. Raph clenched his hands, plopping onto the couch. "I'm pretty sure my face is up here."

Donatello shot Raph a glare, but there was little venom behind it. He swallowed hard and Raphael resisted every urge to shake the answer out of him.

"What did Leo tell you?"

Raphael shrugged, glancing at their leader's sleeping form. "That the woman you were chasing is with the Kraang and knows where your girlfriend's dad is."

"Not my girlfriend," Donatello muttered. "Does April know?"

Raph shook his head. "No. She had to leave before Leo got around to telling us what he knew." There was a pause, then Raphael whispered more roughly, "Now, I'll ask again-what happened?" Raph blinked his burning eyes, annoyed by how long it took to reopen them. His whole face tingled and the throbbing spread to both his temples.

Don briefly turned away again and Raph's stomach twisted when he heard another groan. Donatello shook his head when he looked back at his brother, catching the poorly hidden concern in his eyes. "Don't worry. It'll stop when the aspirin kicks in."

"I'm not worried," Raph said quickly.

Don smiled and continued, "And it's pretty simple. I was heading south after Leo called and I spotted her in the middle of a robbery. She didn't scream or anything like that when I caught her, so I knew she was a person of interest. I knocked her down and got her to explain who she was associated with."

"She couldn't have just told you."

"No, not at first." Donatello narrowed his eyes, "I was about to call you guys so we could really interrogate her. I mentioned the cops too. That's..." He paused, clasping his hands in his lap. Raphael tilted his head, squinting at Don.

"Spit it out," Raphael pressed.

"She tried to make a deal with me. A-a way to get April's dad back," Don said eventually.

Raphael's eyes widened but then he growled. "Let me guess...you couldn't get the info you needed unless you let her go? If you ask me, you should have just-Don?"

Donatello pushed himself to his feet, wavering a bit before locking his legs and heading toward the kitchen. Raphael followed him, spluttering. He paused in the kitchen doorway, blinking as Donatello went to the sink and splashed his face with cool water. Donatello took a deep breath, resting his arms on the edge of the counter. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I just..."

"Eh, you're sick. Nothing wrong with that." Raphael joined Don's side, watching his brother's grimace. "But that's not all..."

"No. No, it's not. I tried to keep her down and call you guys, but she started struggling again. She bucked so hard my hand slipped on the staff. The blade-it would have gone right through her if I hadn't..." Don trailed off, shuddering. Raphael's chest tightened and he stared at his brother.

"Donnie."

"After-after that, she freaked out. She wasn't fast but she could hit hard. Got me once here," Donatello pointed to a spot on the back of his skull, "And twice here." His hand moved to the top left of his head, face scrunching at the memory. "Still smarts. And when I hit the concrete..." Raphael grunted, turning away and glaring at the fridge.

Donatello blinked, pushing off the sink. "Raph?"

"So, when'd she pull the blaster on you?"

Donatello's eyes widened, but soon his face relaxed and shoulders slumped. "About halfway to North Maple. Guess all the blows were getting to me since I was so slow." Donatello waited for the sarcastic retort, but Raphael continued to glare at the fridge, arms folded tight across his chest. Donatello's eyes fell to the ground, a small, sad smile on his face. "Thanks, Raph."

Raphael's gaze slid to Donatello, eye ridges raised. "For what?"

"For throwing the sai. I saw, when she was aiming for me. I knew I had to move. But-I just-I moved but not enough. I was too slow. But then you-"

"It wasn't enough."

Donatello narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I should have hit her in the arm, not the gun. Or maybe her he-" Raphael caught the withering stare Donatello sent him and snarled. "Well, what do you expect me to say, Donnie? She almost took half your chest off with that blaster! If Leo hadn't-if you didn't need me, right then and there, I would've gone after her and-" Raphael stopped himself, snapping his jaw shut and turning away. "It doesn't matter."

So just let it go, Raphael willed in his head. Just forget it.

Donatello squared his shoulders, ready to press the issue, only to stop when he saw Raphael's face. The mask couldn't hide the exhaustion in his bloodshot eyes, and his entire body seemed to sag. Donatello sighed, rubbing the space between his eyes. "Raph...if it wasn't for you, I-well- things would have been worse. Let's leave it at that for now."

Raphael searched Donatello's face before shrugging. "Sure. Whatever you say, brainiac." Raphael pushed himself off the counter, wincing when Michelangelo's voice screeched for Don and Raph from the other room. "And there goes our peace and quiet." He glanced at Donatello, eyes softening. "You'll wanna tell April, won't you?"

"Yeah." Don's voice was heavy. Raphael shifted, shaking his head.

"Don."

"I need to tell her. I have to explain... I mean, there was another chance for her dad. And so soon...I-we- could have brought her dad back to her. Safe and sound. But now? I mean, we were so close."

But Raphael could hear what Donnie was really saying, "I was so close."

Raphael gritted his teeth. The headache's throbbing shot down his neck. "Donnie, c'mon. I mean, so you didn't get it this time. There'll be other chances. We'll get him back." He bit his lip at Donatello's continued melancholy expression. His cheeks warmed as he said, "Give yourself some credit. That woman was packing and you were on your own."

"I could have had it, Raph. If I had just said-"

"Darn it, Donnie, quit beating yourself up over this!" Pain bloomed in the base of his skull, sharp and hot. Raphael grabbed his head, swearing under his breath. "And this headache needs to go away!"

"Why didn't you take any aspirin?" Don asked, shaking his head.

"Raph always sounds so pleasant in the morning," Mikey sang from the living room before Raphael could answer Donatello.

"Can it, Mikey, or I'll hit you so hard I'll knock whatever brain cells you have left clear across the room."

"You act like he has any brain cells left." Raphael broke into an unwilling smirk, chuckling as Donatello's hand fell on his shoulder. "As for your headache, your best bet would be to get some sleep."

"I'm not tired. I got plenty of sleep last night."

"Oh, yeah. I can tell from your bloodshot eyes. And that you were the last one to wake me up for a concussion watch. I know I wasn't too aware when Mikey and Leo woke me, but I still saw you." Donatello slowly broke into a smile, stepping back when Raph growled.

"Oh, so what? What's my lack of sleep got to do with anything?"

"Sleep deprivation can cause headaches or migraines, slowed motor skills, irritability-"

"I think I liked you better when you were-"

"I think I agree with your brother, Raphael." They both jumped at Splinter's voice, Raphael whipping around to face his father. Splinter smiled, tilting his head and looking his sons up and down. "I'm glad you see you up and moving, Donatello. I hope you are feeling better now that you've had a moment to rest. But I would like to look over you once more and talk about your arm." Donatello nodded and bowed his head.

Splinter turned to Raphael. "And I thank you for keeping watch over your brother, Raphael, but I believe some rest is in order."

"But, Master Splinter, I can keep going! I mean-" Raphael stopped when Splinter put a paw on his shoulder.

"Do not worry, Raphael. A couple hours of rest will do no harm."

Raphael sighed. "Fine. Just a few hours though. Not a whole day and definitely not through patrol." He pulled away, turning so neither his father or brother could see his face fall when his head endured another wave of pain. He made his way out of the kitchen and down the hall, steps slower than he'd like to admit.

Donatello turned to Splinter, smiling. "We're going to let him sleep through the day, right?"

Splinter nodded, lips quirking up. "Of course."

Donatello chuckled, following his father out of the room.

"Hey, guys! Is Donatello up-" April trailed off as she bounced into the lair, Splinter and three of the brothers looking up at her from the couch. Splinter blinked and looked back at Donatello, tying off the new bandages around his arm. Splinter's eyes caught the flush in Don's cheeks, a small smile flashing across Splinter's face at the sight.

April's eyes lit up and she grinned, running up to them. "Don! You're awake! Are you okay? What happened yesterday?" She hovered around Donatello, searching for a safe place to hug him. Deciding his neck seemed relatively injury free, she wrapped her arms around the turtle, unaware that his jaw dropped at the contact. Leonardo and Michelangelo hid their snickers behind their hands, Mikey even pointing at Donatello and giving him a thumb's up.

"Where's Raphael?" she asked, eventually pulling away.

"Raphael needed rest," Splinter said, rising and stepping away from the couch. "Donatello had just finished sharing what happened to him with all of us. However, I'm sure he won't mind telling the tale one more time."

Donatello's eyes widened but Splinter only nodded, waving his other sons to him. "We can discuss what to do later. For now, enjoy your friend's company. Afterward, I would like you to rest."

Donatello sighed and nodded, glancing at his brothers as they left. Leo briefly touched Don's shoulder, eyes catching each other before he moved on. "Later, April! Come hang out in my room when you're done with Don! We can read some of my comics. I just got issue sixty-four of the Vegat-"

"Keep going, Mikey," Leo said tiredly, pushing Mikey's shell.

April giggled at Mikey's pout, plopping beside Don and kicking her feet. "So, you've been through this already?"

Don nodded. "Twice, actually. Raph this morning, then my brothers and Master Splinter."

"Well, you know what they say! Third time's the charm." April chuckled, wavering slightly as she thought back to yesterday and now her, opening with a lame joke.

Always so smooth, huh, April? She peeked at Donatello through her bangs, stilling at his pale face. Watching him reminded her of his dazed and somewhat desperate apologies to her as she treated his wounds, and her stomach knotted at the memory. The silence stretched on, wedging between them until April felt like she was sitting on the other side of the room.

"So..." April's voice cracked through the room like ice, "how are you feeling?"

Don shrugged. "Tired. Sore. Better than yesterday. But that's not too hard to beat. Although, Master Splinter said I can't go on patrol for a while. My arm," he added at her worried and questioning look. "I can use it for small things, but stressing it too much aggravates the muscles. So I'm stuck here for a while."

He licked his lips and cast a sideways glance at her. "But you want to know what happened last night, right?"

"Only if you're feeling up to it." Inside, she told her heart to slow down. She clasped her hands in her lap, biting the inside of her cheek. She willed herself to keep a straight, blank face, picturing the brothers' own stoic faces in the throes of battle.

When Don raised an eye ridge at her she gulped, cheeks warming. He shook his head and gave her a wry smile, but April felt the air around him shift. A strange weight settled into her stomach the longer she looked at Donatello, and she almost wished she hadn't said anything.

Then he cleared his throat and she immediately straightened up. He told her everything-how he found the woman, the way he got his injuries, how the thief nearly got herself killed. About he Kraang. About her dad. About how that woman knew where her dad was and had dangled it above Donatello's head. Had even proposed a 'deal.' Even as he moved to the other things, like the chase to North Maple, her thoughts returned to that bit of information.

Someone out there knows where my dad is. How to get to him. That-that witch knows where my daddy is, and now she's out there somewhere, still free. And what about my dad? Why isn't he free? People like her, that's why. It's not fair! Why couldn't-

April blinked when she realized Donatello had gone silent. She looked up to meet his sad and unusually dark eyes. The weight in her stomach grew, sprouting black vines and squeezing her heart. She shook her head and grabbed Donatello's hands, rubbing circles into the rough, scaly skin with her thumbs. She ignored his shocked expression, feeling surprised herself but knowing this was right. She had to comfort him. Had to let him know he wasn't at fault and that things were okay.

He shuddered out a breath and lowered his head, shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, April," he muttered. She leaned closer to hear him, chest aching. Chills swept through her and she wished her dad was here, because then the loneliness would evaporate. She could ask him what to say. What she should be doing.

And Don wouldn't be hurt and agonizing over the situation.

"I'm so sorry," he said it again, closing his eyes. He tried to pull away but April clutched his wrists. They both knew he could easily break her grip. And they both knew that he wouldn't.

"Was that why you were apologizing?" she whispered. She didn't wait for an answer she already knew. Instead, she said with a stronger voice, "Donnie...what happened wasn't your fault. You were doing what you had to. You couldn't just agree to whatever she said. You couldn't just let her go." April closed her eyes and pushed away the sadness and anger that threatened to wash over her. She started counting in her head, taking a deep breath on every third number.

"It's important to breathe, April."

"It wasn't your fault."

He shook his head, his hands fisting and eyes glaring down at his lap. His lips curled and he stood up, startling April. She kept her eyes locked on him, searching for what to say and reading his movements for hints on what to do. She started bouncing her leg, his restlessness infecting her.

"I should have been able to do something," he finally said, still pacing aimlessly around the living room. April stood with him, her hands clenched at her sides. Her eyes blazed but the growing fire was doused at the utterly lost look she caught in Donatello's eyes. "I should have been able to-to dodge her attacks or hold her off until the guys got there. If I hadn't loosened my grip for that one second, we might-"

"Don-"

"But I screwed up. I-I should have said..." he trailed off, his constant pacing finally slowing to a halt. He groaned and pressed a hand to his forehead, and April's heart throbbed. She tried to find her voice, tried to let Donatello know she didn't blame him. That it wasn't. His. Fault. But Don seemed on the verge of something important and April didn't dare to interrupt him.

Don slowly turned to her, looking her up and down with dark eyes and a deep frown. April took a step toward him, biting her lip. He took a deep breath and said, "You really miss him."

She raised her eyebrows, stumbling on her words. "O-of course I do. More...more than I ever thought I would. But-"

Don shook his head, eyes straying toward the ground. "I've... I've tried to imagine what you must be going through. I picture losing Master Splinter or one of my brothers and knowing who has them but not where they are or how to get to them. And, even if I'm just pretending..." Don pressed a hand to his stomach, closing his eyes and shuddering. "There's just this big, black hole. And it's just a fraction of what you're feeling."

April swallowed, gasping and wiping her watering eyes. Her entire face burned and her eyes itched with fresh tears. She started when Don suddenly stood in front of her, his hands on her shoulders. Every time he held her, she marveled at how much bigger he was and the way his hands seem to engulf her shoulders. His warm hands kept her ground in the world, sometimes pulling her away from dwelling on her father, and always out of trouble.

Always...he's always the one who has to-

"I'm sorry, April." His voice was hushed and his arms wrapped around her. She gulped for air before biting down on her mouth. No. Don't do this. Don needs you right now, not the other way around. Don't do it. Don't.

But she couldn't stop seeing her father taking one of the blasters and covering the turtles' escape, slipping away from her once again. Every part of her ached from how close they had come, how she'd seen him and talked to him before he was gone-sacrificing himself to save them. Her. And the hole she kept hidden reopened inside her chest and sucked all her breath away.

She shut her eyes as tightly as she could and tried to push them away, but the tears only leaked out of the corners of her eyes. Her fist weakly beat Donatello's chest, and he shushed and held her there, partially filling the gaping maw inside of her.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. Her groan at another apology came out as a sob and she violently shook her head. "I should have- I should have said the right thing-but, I promised to get him back and I will. I'm not going to let you down. I'll get him back."

No, no, don't. Don't promise. Please, please-oh, I'm sorry, Don. I'm sorry. I wish I didn't need to rely on you. That I could just save him myself and not have to do this to you. That you didn't feel like-like you had to apologize at all. Why...why can't I be stronger? Why!

"We'll bring him back." Donatello stared at the wall behind her, his eyes clear. "Just like I promised." His grip on her tightened when she half-sobbed, half-groaned into his chest. He swallowed and whispered, "I'm sorry."

April wished she could choke his guilt-laced words, tell him to stop apologizing.

All she managed was a sob.

"Can I poke it?"

Don rolled his eyes, fixing Mikey with a hard stare. "No, Mikey, you can't poke it."

Mikey's outstretched finger inched closer to Donatello's bandaged arm despite the warning, eyes widening. Donatello felt his left eye twitch, leaning into the couch to get away from Mikey's oncoming touch. "Mikey, I just said no!"

"I can't help it! When you say I can't touch it, I only want to poke it more." Mikey leaned on his knees to reach Donatello without falling over the couch. His tongue stuck out in his concentration. "Maybe if you sai I can touch it, I won't want to anymore?"

"What made you want to touch it in the first place?" Don scooted to the next cushion, making Mikey groan.

"Oh, come on! I was so close."

"Mikey!"

Mikey threw his hands in the air, releasing an explosive sigh. "I don't know why! I was just sitting here and there was a boring commercial and I looked at you. Then I thought about your burn and how it's probably like a giant scab. And the bigger the scab is, the more it itches. I started itching all over just thinking about your burn-scab too. And now I think the only way to make the itching go away is if I touch your scab. I mean, your burn."

Donatello stared at him for a long time, mouth dropped in silent horror. He shook his head, pinching the space between his eyes. "You know how that just sounded?"

Michelangelo pouted. "C'mon, dude! Just once?"

"You shouldn't even pick your own wounds," Donatello hissed. He rolled his eyes again, groaning when Mikey clasped his hands together and made his eyes water, even whining like a dog. Don looked away, glaring at the ceiling as Mikey's cried grew louder. "Fine! Fine, one poke and that's it. And don't try to lift the bandages or anything like that."

Mikey's face broke into a grin and he rushed at Donatello, putting a finger on the bandage and giggling like a madman. "I don't get it," Don said, put-off by the creepy laughter. "How are you itchy when it's my wound?"

"Are you kidding? It makes perfect sense."

"Only to you, Mikey." Don gently lifted Mikey's hand away, ignoring how Mikey's face fell.

"Aw, Donnie. You can't tell me that it isn't itchy at all, now can you?" Mikey started scratching his own arm, frowning.

"Even if it did itch, since the burn's on my arm, it would make sense." Michelangelo huffed and turned away, immediately perking up when Don switched changed the channel to one of his favorite cartoons. Don watched Mikey's eyes glaze over before glaring at his now itching, throbbing arm.

Thanks, Mikey. Now my arm really does itch. Don pressed his hand to the skin and squeezed, careful not to cave to the temptation and scratch.

"We should probably change your bandages, right?" Mikey's voice startled Don and he looked up, meeting Mikey's blue eyes. "So the burns don't get worse?" Still surprised, Donatello nodded, watching Mikey stand and hurry out of the room. Don ran a hand over his face and sighed. Is it a good idea to let Mikey be the one to do it though?

Beeping interrupted his second thoughts and he looked around, trying to find his T-phone. His eyes lit up when he spotted it between the couch cushions, fishing it out and glancing at the small screen as Mikey came bouncing back in the room.

He waved at Mikey and switched the phone off, shrugging off a questioning gaze from Mikey. "Text from April."

Mikey grinned, eyes flashing. "Ohhhh, getting texts from your girlfriend?" Don blanched, face heating up.

"Wh-what? She is not my girlfriend!"

"Sure, sure." Mikey sniffed, holding up a new roll of bandages and medical tape. "Now, let Dr. Mikey have a look at you." Donatello leaned back as Mikey came toward him, unrolling the bandages.

"Kind of wish I could wrap myselffp!" Donatello yelped when Michelangelo grabbed him by the good arm and yanked him forward. A few snips sent the old bandages falling to the floor and Mikey hummed, already covering the burned and bruised skin in new ones, tightening the wraps every now and again.

"Relax, Don. I've seen you do this tons of times." Mikey shook his head, even tutting. "Besides," he added more quietly, "you're always fixing us up, you know? So I wanna help you. I mean, it's usually the other way around. So...yeah." A long, dense silence followed Michelangelo's words. Donatello swallowed, staring down at his lap and moving his arm as Mikey needed.

Don's chest clenched and ached. He looked up when Mikey taped off the bandage, still surprisingly quiet. Don waited until Mikey stood up before catching by the arm and pulling him in a hug. Don smiled at the small gasp of surprise, releasing him quickly.

"Dude, did we just have a brotherly, family moment?"

"Yeah, Mikey." Don looked around, nodding to himself when he was sure the others wouldn't hear him. "And do you think you could do me a favor?"

Mikey's eyes widened and he glanced around as well before leaning toward Donatello. "What is it? Need me to...take care of someone?" he asked in an exaggerated whisper.

Don chuckled. "No, nothing like that. I've just been feeling...I don't know, stuffed down here. Especially since I can't even train with this arm. It's been one day and I'm already jittery. I was sort of hoping to get some fresh air, some time to think-"

"But you're always thinking."

"And I don't want anyone freaking out while I'm gone," Don finished. He watched Mikey, biting his lip as he waited for his answer. As the seconds ticked by, Don started forming another way to leave unnoticed, when Mikey finally spoke.

"Of course I will! You know I'm a great distraction." Mikey's grin stretched across his cheeks before leaping away. Pressing himself to the nearest wall, Mikey looked around the corner and gave Donatello a thumbs up. He then tip-toed around the corner, giggling as he went.

Rubbing his face, Don groaned. "I hope he doesn't hurt himself while he's at it." Don pulled his phone back out and turned it on, checking the screen before nodding to himself. He squared his shoulders and headed for the exit, keeping his steps silent as the tunnel opened around him. He walked along the tunnel and toward the nearest manhole, pausing when he reached the ladder. He swallowed hard before grabbing the first bar and hoisting himself up.

Climbing the ladder proved more difficult than he anticipated with his injured arm. Sharp, hot pain shot through the limb whenever he grabbed a metal bar. Soon the pain spread to the muscles below his shell, and when he finally reached the surface, he had to stop and breathe. These burns are way worse that I thought. I may have to-

Crunching gravel erased the thought and sent him slinking into the shadows of one of New York's many alleys. He took several deep breaths, pressing himself to the building until he spotted the familiar blonde head. The woman glanced around, her hands fisted at her sides, until she spat, "There's no one around and I already saw ya!"

She reached toward her belt, pulling out a small blaster and pointing it around. Her eyes were set in a glare, flitting from left to right as she looked for Donatello. "Come out, turtle. I'm not here to mess around."

Donatello rolled his eyes and slipped further into the alley until he found an apartment's fire escape. Suppressing a sigh, he started up, even as the muscles in his right arm screamed for him to stop, aching and tightening with every pull. "You know," Don called, startling the woman, "asking someone to come out when you're holding a weapon doesn't help your case."

"Neither does throwing a tracker on me!" The woman ripped the fabric of her shirt, bundling the cloth on her left shoulder. "I can't get it off, you mutant freak!" Don watched her from the top of the building, then looked around to be sure she was right about the being alone. The streets from his vantage point were clear. Not even a cat was in sight.

She didn't even bring any Kraang...how does that make any sense? But...maybe she just wants to talk-

A shot tore from the blaster, the woman firing blindly into one of the alleys.

Or maybe she just wants to take me on herself.

"You could have called the cops on me. Or your brothers! You could've taken me out or found one of my hideouts or-" She jumped as Donatello landed behind her, raising her blaster just as Don swung his staff. The weapon flew from her hand and sent skidding across the road. She sneered, meeting Donatello's gaze but switching to eye the bo staff.

"But I didn't do those things, now did I?" Her mouth dropped at this, gaze flickering to the ground. "No one even knows I'm here." Don saw her eyes widen a fraction, peering up at him through her lashes. She faced him again, huffing.

"Why did you tell me to come here? Why are you doing this?"

"Your offer."

She tilted her head. "Wh-what? You mean, from before?" Donatello nodded and her face scrunched in deeper confusion. "You didn't seem to keen on it before, turtle. Why the sudden change of heart?"

Donatello groaned, his heart steadily picking up its pace. He could sense his body preparing to flee, and planted his feet more firmly on the street. "Does it matter? I mean, this helps you, doesn't it?" He winced when he threw his arms in the air, his right arm throbbing. He refused to look at the bandages, knowing he opened the wounds.

The woman watched, narrowing her eyes. "Sorry about that. I really wasn't trying to hit you."

"Sorry if I don't believe you." Don ran his hand over his face, energy draining as quickly as his skin color. The wound kept throbbing, a stinging sensation spreading through his body. "So...are we good to go?"

She studied him up and down, biting her lip. Don looked away, absently rubbing the bandages on his arm, ignoring the burn he felt from her eyes. "If...if you're serious."

She held out a hand, her eyes darkening in a way that made Donatello's stomach tighten. He briefly closed his eyes, swallowing his apprehension as he took her hand, and opening them when she squeezed his fingers.

They locked eyes and she said in a soft voice, "Miranda."

Donatello's heart beat like a bird's wings against his rib cage, even after he released her hand.

"Donatello."