Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The realization blossoms.

Not on any particular day. Not for any particular reason. It eases into Donnie’s mind like any common truth. The sky is blue. The grass is green.

He has a crush on April O’Neil.

As soon as that truth is defined, internalized, and acknowledged, he takes that gentle blossom and smushes it in his hands.

Now, Hamato Donatello is no imbecile. He understands he is a teenage boy. A teenage boy with hormones. A teenage boy with hormones who knows approximately four (4) girls his relative age.

But for his body to decide that April , of all people , is someone he is suddenly attracted to?

Why? When?

That’s the root of the problem, isn’t it? If he could just pinpoint the exact moment these feelings developed--when his brain released certain chemicals that elevated his heart rate, accelerated his perspiration (particularly on his palms), and widened the blood vessels in his cheeks--then he could determine how best to stop them.

So, as any scientist would, he decides to test his hypothesis.

The day he recognizes his romantically-screwed feelings, he gets right to work. Hours are spent hunched over his workbench, scribbling furiously in a new notebook. His laptop will leave a papertrail. A notebook…will also leave a paper trail. But at least it’s one he can more easily dispose of.

With fire, of course.

The timeline he comes up with is pitiful, to say the least. It’s a bullet-pointed list of dates, ranging from as far back as years to as recent as a few weeks ago. He charts moments in their history that appear the most significant, such as the day they first met, the first time she set foot in his lab, their trip to Witch Town, the Krang Invasion, and…

That’s where it ends.

Which is fine, because Donnie is already whipping up a new list. Using rom-roms as a reference, he lists possible romantic occurrences for every date listed. Every time Donnie or April showed signs of affection for each other, whether verbal or physical. Compliments, embraces, gifts given…

Nothing truly stands out as that classic “Ah ha!” moment. That spark. That moment butterflies miraculously appeared in his stomach and started fluttering. He even attempts to recall times the two were placed in a particularly romantic setting, such as a dramatic rainfall or gorgeous sunset.

Again, nothing .

It’s as if he is under the compulsion of a mystic trickster, whose magic Donnie still has yet to explain. The panic bubbling in his gut is brought to an irritated boil.

Donnie stabs the end of his pen deep into his notebook. Then again. And again. He continues until every intersection of lines on the page are dotted black.

This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair .

Sure, science is hardly fair either (just look at the food chain). But Donnie has always kept himself tethered to his relationships; he cherishes the bonds he’s formed with his brothers, father, and April. They have molded him into who he is today, and in his eyes, defined his worth--

Which Mikey says isn’t healthy, and April has repeatedly disputed, but still --

This feeling, this asinine crush, threatens to break one of those bonds, severing the chain that keeps his chaotic life tied to order.

He imagines, for just a moment, how a life without April would operate. No more science projects, no more team-ups, no more singing along to the songs of Jupiter Jim Pluto Vacation 4 together.

No more of her laugh echoing off the walls of his lab. No more of her witty smile.

No more best friend.

So, if the origin can’t be found, what else can Donnie do to mitigate the effects?

Simple.

He just won’t feel this way about April anymore.

Donnie can hear the smack of Dr. Feelings’ pointer against Mikey’s palm, but this is what must be done. The risks of allowing his romantic feelings to grow are too great. There are too many memories that would be ruined should this crush ever come to light. A crush doomed to fail, because despite what the chemicals in his head are telling him he wants, Donnie has not forgotten and cannot forget, is that he is a mutant and April is human.

Even if Donnie wanted more from their relationship, and was willing to risk so much, there is no future they could possibly share together.

Logically, it is best not to get his hopes up. Hence, why he simply will not ever think about his crush on April O’Neil ever again.

Donnie stands from his workbench. He caps his pen, grabs the notebook, and walks ten feet over to the furnace in the corner of his lab.

The lid goes up, the notebook goes in, and everything returns to normal.

Casey just can’t get used to his new normal.

Three months since the invasion is long enough for streets to be cleared, buildings to be repaired, and life to return in full to the city. But Casey still sees krang kunk in the chewed gum underneath public benches. He hears the krang’s screams whenever the subway brakes. His hand itches for his hockey stick wherever a rat crosses his path, the instinct to gather still outweighing the fact he will never go hungry again.

It helps to be living in the sewers, which is familiar to the bunkers he was raised in. It helps to have sensei-Leonardo back on his feet. It helps to be surrounded by familiar (albeit younger) faces.

Little slices of the old normal keep him grounded.

But the old normal never required planning for his future. Survival always took president over growing up and going to school and learning to drive and making friends and living an actual normal life .

So, with everyone else finally back on their feet, Casey figures he should try to live that normal life. After all, he doesn’t truly belong in this world. He’s not really a part of the Hamato family. Not yet anyway, if his family tree is even the littlest bit still intact.

He packs a bag, borrows some money from Mast-Donatello, and sets off to live like a normal New Yorker.

He comes back to the sewers after four days.

On the first day, Casey decides against renting a hotel for the night. The building doesn’t look stable enough to withstand a blast from an alien warship. Better to sleep in the park for the night. Just in case, you know?

On the second day, Casey tries to walk along the George Washington bridge. The cars shake the concrete beneath his boots, and halfway across, he collapses against the railing. He is certain the bridge will give out beneath him and he’ll plummet into a sea of rubble, the same way Master Splinter did. Once the traffic dies down, he retreats back to New York.

On the third day, Casey stumbles into his mom.

On accident, of course. Donatello warned him about the various paradoxes that may occur should the two ever meet. But to Casey’s surprise, he doesn’t immediately blip out of existence when he passes Cassandra Jones on the street. In fact, she doesn’t even look at him. She stares straight ahead, her face neutral, young and unmarred. Instead of patchwork armor, she dawns a clean jacket and purposefully-ripped jeans. She crosses the street at a leisurely pace, never once bothering to check her surroundings.

Casey watches her go, frozen at the crosswalk. A hooded pedestrian struts passed him, checking his shoulder. Hard.

And the memories grab him by the throat.

A campfire beneath the underpass, the building she grew up in just above their head, she points with a sooty finger past the smoke and says I’ll give you that one day, for you baby I’ll take on whatever the stars send our way, and every year he grows but she loses a bit more, a bit more hair or a bit more hope but never her love, as she brushes his hair with a broken comb and kisses his forehead and laughs with gusto when he does his best impression of Master Raphael, but one day he does it and she cries and he never impersonates anyone again, because Casey is a man now or will be and needs to figure out who he is, his mom has her mask and hockey stick and and one day he’ll have a mask of his own, but not hers not like this , and when he starts to forget her face he ventures back to her old home, he stands where she stood but can’t find her here, can’t find a single photo album, so he paints stripes on his mask the way Commander O’Neil clutches Donatello’s staff--

A car inches up to the crosswalk, horn blaring. Casey stumbles to the other side. He throws up in a trashcan.

On the fourth day, Casey returns to his mom’s apartment building.

The mortar sparkles white beneath the newly-laid brick. There’s only darkness behind Cassandra’s window, so Casey takes a seat on a radiator of the building across the street. He waits, bobbing his knee, as the sun descends behind the skyscrapers.

Night falls. Still no light. It’s an excuse to walk away.

But Casey spent the whole day working up the nerve to walk to her, so he parkours down the fire escape and rings the bell for her apartment.

“Yes?”

The voice is old, chipped, but warm. Casey swallows the lump in his throat and asks his grandmother, “H-Hi, is Cassandra home?”

Her response is much colder. “You her friend?”

“Um, sorta. I was just…she’s not home?”

“She’s been gone since yesterday. Not answering her phone. Called the cops this morning. Nothing yet. You know somethin’ I don’t?”

Casey stares at the little speaker above the apartment buzzers. The plastic melts before his eyes. A splatter of blood cakes the left side. There was enough evidence to suggest his mom left their apartment alone the day the krang arrived. 

“Hey , I asked you a question. You one of those foot ninjas? Have you seen my little girl?”

He waits too long absorbing his grandmother’s words--gone since yesterday, gone since yesterday, gone--and finds a shadow suddenly looming over him.

Casey looks up into the worn eyes of his grandmother, black hair covering her face like a veil.

He bolts.

His grandmother calls after him, but Casey is gone. Gone like his mother. Gone again. Gone gone gone.

Finally, the last bandage on Leo’s carapace is gone .

To celebrate, he gets his ass kicked.

Leo had told Raph not to go easy on him, which he’s grateful for, because the kick he takes to the chest sends him flying backwards into a set of draining dummies. He lets gravity take control, his body laying prone as the dummies wobble and fall like bowling pins.

“ Striiiiiike… ”

It takes Raph three thundering steps to make it to his side. Immediately, his older brother lifts the dummy off of Leo’s chest and chucks it aside. “Leo! I’m so sorry! You alright? What hurts?”

Leo waves a hand at him. “Nothing, big guy. That felt good! My first fight in so long. Y’know, I forgot what getting tossed through the air felt like…”

Raph raises his right brow. It may not stretch as high as it used to, but all the skepticism of an older sibling remains.

“Really, Raph. I’m good. Now lift me up!”

Raph takes his brother’s hand, yanking Leo effortlessly onto his feet.

Leo’s feet, on the other hand, put in much more effort keeping him upright. Because as soon as he finds his balance again, those pesky little nerves on the back of his shell decides it’s the perfect time to-

“ Y-OUCH! ”

Hurt.

“Leo!” Raph has an arm around his brother’s shoulders in an instant. “I knew I hit you too hard. What’s wrong with me…?”

Raph tries to get away with that last part by mumbling, but forgets Leo’s ear is right next to his face. “Hey. No no no no no . None of that. I asked you not to go easy on me. If I was a hundred percent, I’d be popping up like nothing happened. But-”

Three months of bedrest weren’t enough, apparently. Well, more like two-and-a-half. There was that one time Casey had his first slice atop the bridge. And then he’d tripped cheering too hard for Raph and had to be carried back to the lair.

He tries to keep his sigh from sounding frustrated, but the air hisses out of him like a kettle over fire.

Raph gives him that smile where he bites his bottom lip at the same time. The “I don’t want to make you feel worse but I am worried” smile.

“Hey, wanna rest up with some pizza? We can try again later, if- when you start feeling better.”

Leo slumps his head against his brother’s chest. “Only if we get hawaiian…”

Raph chuckles. “We’ll get hawaiian and normal pizza.”

“Pineapple on pizza is normal.”

They engage in the familiar discourse of warm fruit on savory foods as Raph assists Leo to the living room. His brother doesn’t try to carry him, which Leo is grateful for, but those pesky nerves throb so much Leo has to take a breather on the way there. Raph still doesn’t try to take over, simply waiting for Leo to take the first step.

Splinter is lounging on their new couch when they finally get there. It’s big enough for three normal-sized people, Raph and one normal-sized person, or one mutant rat and one satyr yokai.

(Listen, Leo has opinions on that matter, but at least the new couchis nice.)

Raph plops Leo right beside their pops, who drops the handful of popcorn in his hand back into its bowl. “Leonardo? You look green.”

The full names are new, and mostly reserved for Leo. He supposes sacrificing yourself to save the world and temporarily getting stuck in a prison dimension with a bloodthirsty alien warlord is wont a little extra worrying now and then by everyone.

Still, it’s new. He wiggles slightly under his father’s anxious gaze. “I’m always green, dad. Just a little sore, that’s all.”

Splinter huffs. “And a little done with sparring for the evening!” He shoves his popcorn bowl into Leo’s hands, grabs a blanket from behind the couch, and has it draped around Leo before his son can even blink. “Raph! Put in Jitsu for Justice! ”

“On it, pops! Lemme just text Donnie to order us some pizza. Including hawaiian, for the heathen.”

Leo chucks a popcorn kernel at his brother’s head. He catches his father’s worried gaze from the corner of his eye, but as soon as he turns to look at him, the rat is facing the other way.

As Raph slides the VHS tape into its slot, Leo nudges Splinter.

“I’m fine, dad. Frustrated, but…fine.”

His dad breathes deeply through his nose. “I know. I just--nevermind. The movie’s starting.”

There’s something about getting older and how you notice new things about your parents. Like how Splinter’s left ear flickers when he’s thinking about something. Or how his nose twitches when he’s upset. He does both as the movie gets started, but Leo says nothing.

Their dad has never been good with words, and that’s okay. The tail snaking around Leo’s waist says more than Splinter ever could.

April spins around in her dorm chair once, twice, then calls Donnie.

She puts the phone up to her ear, knowing better than to put it on speaker. Her roommate may beside she actually wants to study for midterms instead of partying every night.

Listen, April loves a good party, and she’s not one to judge. But she will judge how Urma is always sneaking back into their dorm in the middle of the night and waking up April right as she hits that deep sleep.

Maybe that’s what having a sibling is like. A mild, but loveable, inconvenience.

Wind whistles on the other end of the line before, “April! I mean, uh. April. Hey. Uh, ‘sup?”

“Dee, I’m boooooored.”

“Oh, no. Let me guess: studying for Ancient Literature?”

“I wanted to read about mummies and stuff! Not this snooty queen and her court of dumb dumbs.”

“Ah, I see you’re reviewing Marie du France. Lanval?”

April side-eyes her laptop, her document of notes blaring a hole through her retina. “Yes- uh . I knew I should’ve picked another elective. The description made it sound way more interesting than it actually is.”

“Alas, I would not know the struggles of a college English class. But perhaps we could offer you a study break with, let’s say, pizza?”

April snorts. Dork. “If I have to read through this lais again one more time, I’m gonna lais on the floor and never get up again. So yes, please distract me with some pizza! I’ll pick it up for you if you want!”

“I’m only giving that pun a pass because you made it and not Leo. And no need, mon ami. I’m already on my way to Run of the Mill. But I appreciate the offer.”

“Oh, actually, could you pick me up on the way back? It’s freezing outside and I forgot to do my laundry. My good coat’s in the hamper.”

Only the wind responds at first. “I, uh, brought my bike.”

“I’ve ridden on the back before. It’s all good.”

More wind, and maybe some muttering but April can’t make it out. “Can Mayhem teleport you there?”

April frowns. “Uh, yeah, but he’s at my parent’s place. No pets allowed in the dorms. Sorry. I kinda invited myself for a ride, didn’t I-?”

“N-No! No, we just-uh, we ordered more pizza than usual and I was concerned you would not have enough room to be comfortable but you're right you’ll be fine I’ll see in approximately five minutes okay goodbye--”

The line goes dead. April squints at Donnie’s profile picture, as if it would explain for him his sudden awkwardness. Profile Picture Donnie smiles back with that goofy, know-it-all grin.

April shrugs. That’s just her weirdo. 

When Donnie tells you he will be there in five minutes, he will be there in five minutes. So, April slides into her last pair of clean sweatpants, a t-shirt she definitely hasn’t slept in two nights in a row, and her old reliable green jacket. She smoothes out the wrinkles along the Hamato crest on the back, her smile reflecting partially back in the faux silk.

A single headlight peeks out from the other end of the road. April unlatches her dorm window, going out the fire escape the same way Urma did to avoid their uptight RA. She stands at the end of the small alley connecting her dorm building to the boys’, and as Donnie pulls in with a wave, she waves beaming right back.

Then a hand from the darkness grabs her wrist and rips her from her feet.

Donnie skids his bike, already hopping off before it comes to a complete stop. He takes out his staff, the ends stretching to their full length as he books it towards the alley.

“APRIL!”

It’s pitch black, save for the sliver of April’s jacket that catches the light from her dorm. Then, a portal. Mystic, fuchsia at the edges and golden within.

And there’s a figure. Somewhat tall. Broad shouldered. Hooded. Donnie aims his staff right there the face would be beneath the brim. He throws.

But the staff catches air. The figure drags April back through the portal, and the portal disappears.

Chapter Text

The lair is in chaos when Casey returns.

It’s the chaos he’s used to. Panic and desperation. Planning and anticipation. He knows something is wrong the moment he slips beneath the manhole cover and hears Michelangelo cry, “ -took her? ”

He knows this air, too. Frantic. It tastes of bile and static, coating his tongue and tingling down his throat. He grapples down the sewer’s main ladder, skipping three rungs at a time, and throwing himself upon the stone.

The stomp of his feet, a forte to the raised voices down the hall, ushers in a fragile silence.

Casey rushes to his masters. He stops just short of the threshold of the living room. Three sets of eyes gaze upon him, beady and wide. All of them stand taut, breaths held. But there’s an extra pair, Raphael’s, that intrudes upon this familiar scene. Never was there a scouting mission or resource retrieval where those eyes were waiting for his report.

Leonardo is the only one sitting, pouncing on the couch’s armrest. But with Casey’s arrival, he scrambles to his feet, limping half the distance to his pupil.

“Casey? What’s wrong?”

This uncertainty is what Casey called home, and Leonardo’s face was a painting hung on its wall. Lips downturned, a chasm between his brows…but, it’s wrong. The frown is lighter. There are wrinkles and scars missing. Even the hand Leo holds cautiously out to him is calloused flesh, not welded metal. 

It’s this final chip at Casey’s familiarity that breaks him.

The tears boil down his cheeks, off his chin and into his shirt collar. He pushes himself into Leonardo’s embrace, and the momentum of the chaos returns in full.

Arms, like branches in a storm, waving, clinging, and gathering together. A hand smooths his hair, grips his shoulder, tugs at his cloak. Words coo, seep, urge a response, an explanation, to this sudden addition of hysteria.

“Mom. It’s mom. She’s…she’s gone. She’s…”

Leonardo moves away. Casey tries to pull him back, but the hand on his shoulder keeps them apart. Just a few inches, but the fissure runs deep.

“Breathe for me, Casey.” It’s barely a command, but Casey obeys his sensei without question. He sucks in a stale breath, neutering the sob caught in his throat.

“I went…I saw her yesterday. And when I went to her apartment…my grandma said she never came home. No one knows where she is. What if she’s-it’s a big city, sensei. There are a lot of bad people. What if she’s dead-? ”

Raphael shushes him. The shrill whistle between his teeth contrasts with his dulcet voice. “Hey now, Case. Your mom is the toughest, strongest, craziest woman I know. I bet wherever she is, she’s just fine.”

There’s another tug on Casey’s cloak, the fabric catching with a rip!  

Casey jolts, clawing at the new tear left beneath his left shoulder. It used to be the highest point he could reach. He would tug down with all the might a seven-year-old could muster, and beam up at her face when she looked down. Fresh tears spring to the corners of his eyes. 

Leonardo holds in his outburst as Donatello lifts up a coin-shaped object between his fingers. It’s no bigger than a quarter, the material black save for a speckle of purple revealed only in the light. The coin is flipped, and the image of an eye boars into them all.

Then Donatello reaches into his belt and pulls out another coin.

Michelangelo wiggles his way into the mass of arms and wraps himself firmly around Casey. “They stuck one on him too? Why? ”

Casey blinks to clear his vision. “Me too? What do you mean?”

Donatello doesn’t answer him, instead flipping down his goggles and slipping into an investigative trance. “I can’t identify the mystic energy surrounding this one, either. Whatever magic this villain is using is beyond my tech. Cheating, cheating son of a- ”

“Donnie, we’re gonna find her,” Leonardo cuts in, then turns to Casey. “April was taken tonight by some guy with mystic portals. Donnie found that coin in her dorm room looking for clues.”

“Stupid winter coat. Too many dumb pockets,” Donatello mutters to no one.

“We think it’s some sort of tracker. The guy who took April, they were sorta broad-shouldered and wearing a hood. Have you seen anyone like this following you recently? Anyone at all?”

Casey had been very distracted yesterday, and yet he vaguely remembers, “The crosswalk. W-When I passed my mom. Someone shoulder-checked me. I thought they were just any New Yorker, but-”

The realization hits just before the guilt.

“They were following my mom. They had to have…a-and I was…I was right there and I didn’t go after her or help, I-I just…I ran away. I ran away, and now she’s been taken too and-what have I done? I lost her. I lost her again and it’s all my fault!”

Michelangelo shakes his head against Casey’s. “You didn’t know! This isn’t on you, Casey. If anything, they would’ve taken you too.”

“We know where your mom is now, and we’re gonna get her back,” Raphael swears. “If we can’t track the mystic power ourselves, we need to find someone who can.”

Michelangelo untangles himself suddenly. “Ooh! Give it to me, Donnie! I’ll find ‘em!”

A collective “no” echoes throughout the lair.

“Mikey, your hands just stopped shaking, like, two weeks ago,” Leonardo snaps. “We’re calling Draxum on this. There is no way we’re letting you try anything right n-”

But Mikey has already snatched the coins from Donatello’s grasp. A translucent orange chain swoops over their heads, as does Michelangelo before landing on the far end of the room.

“The cop shows on TV always say the first twenty-four hours after a disappearance are the most important! We gotta know where April and Casey Sr. are now! I can do this!”

Before the arms can unwrap themselves from around Casey--and before Master Splinter can return from the kitchen--Mikey grasps the coins in his fists and holds them out before him.

As soon as Michelangelo’s eyes squeeze shut, purple sparks dance off the back of his palms. Then the sparks ignite into an orange blaze. The very air around his fists catches fire as if it were flash paper, spreading until the light swallows Michelangelo’s frame whole.

Casey cries out, ripping himself from Raphael’s hold. History cannot repeat itself twice in one day. He won’t allow it.

But the fire hollows out.

A burning, circular frame captures the image of a cave. Rust-colored rock arches into a carved dome at the top, while a pool of sickly green water bubbles and pops against its walls. A smell wafts through into the lair, one Casey can’t identify. Sulfur is the closest comparison his brain can make, but Leonardo knows it well.

“That’s… mutagen .”

The four of them inch closer to the portal, Splinter scurrying close behind. The rat’s nose twitches, a snarl spreading across his lips.

“ No . The smell is wrong.”

“What else could it be, pops?” Raphael asks.

Donatello steps closer, and closer, and closer still. He comes face-to-face with the flames. “And where’s April? ”

Then, a few things happen all at once.

Donatello’s shoulders go rigid. His tech bo pops out of his battle shell, right as the flames of Michelangelo’s portal pop and fizzle away. Casey watches the stray sparks sharpen into razor-thin rectangles, as a hand extends from the other side.

A voice echoes from the other side. “DONNIE, GET BACK!”

Raphael stretches out a mystic fist, Splinter sprints on all fours, and Casey trips behind both of them as the hand grabs Donatello and pulls him through.

The fire shimmers brightly, blinding them all with a sudden burst of energy. Casey’s eyes adjust just in time to witness Michelangelo, and the portal, collapse.

April isn’t particularly worried about being trapped in a creepy mutagen cave.

For one thing, it’s not very cold. Her light jacket is just enough to combat the chill seeping through the stone. Though the cage she’s currently trapped in is zapping all the warmth from her calves, as she sits criss-cross applesauce waiting for Cassandra to stop punching the bars.

That’s the other thing. Cassandra is a beast, and she’s already been working on an escape plan the entire day she’s been trapped here on her own.

Or, at least, that’s what April assumed Cassandra had been doing until she bit one of the bars and knocked out her front tooth. So really, the moderate temperature is the only thing really going for them right now.

Their shared cage is no more than three square feet, suspended over the mutagen pool by a thick, steel chain. The bars are just short enough that neither of them can stick their head through, and believe April, they tried . One hour spent squished together with a creepy masked kidnapper is one hour too many. April will study ancient literature for a hundred hours if it means she doesn’t have to be observed like bacteria in a petri dish.

The kidnapper in question…honestly looks kind of familiar, though April can’t quite put her finger on where she’s seen them before. The bright red eyes of their mask never seem to leave April’s gaze, no matter which direction they pace on the outer ledge of the cave. April wishes they would trip over a stray pebble and go for a nice little swim, that way when Cassandra and her finally bust out, they can go running through that tunnel just below them.

Well, maybe running isn’t the right word. The mutagen seems to be flowing right into it, and one quick glance around the cave reveals, yep, no conveniently-placed kayaks for April to show off her rowing skills with.

“ C’MON ALREADY YOU STUPID BARS! ” Cassandra assaults the bars with yet another flurry of kicks. The cage swings once, twice, then slows to a stop. Panting, Cassandra falls flat on her back, mouth open wide so the world can see her bloody gums.

April hums, fiddling with a lone feather she noticed around ten minutes ago. It gives her hands something to do, at least. “It was a good try, Cass. Now, we’re stuck as Princess Peach waitin’ for Mario.”

Cassandra growls. “I refuse! I will try again! After…a quick breather…” She wipes the sweat from her brow, her dazed eyes falling on April. “Don’t you have a, uh, ninpō thing you can do? Or something?”

“Ngh, or somethin’ ,” April huffs. “It hasn’t been workin’ right recently. I dunno what’s wrong with it, or… me. ”

She has an idea of what’s wrong. An idea she hasn’t even thought about unpacking yet, because there was the whole invasion thing, and classes have been nonstop, and campus has been stressing her out with the newly-scheduled curfews (which her sleuthing may-or-may-not have caused), which are annoying at best and get in the way of hanging out with the guys at worst, and hanging out with the guys is kind of the whole reason this idea began in the first place, and-

Well, now is hardly the right time to go unpacking any complex feelings.

Cassandra smacks a bruised hand against April’s thigh. “I blame the magic. You’re awesome.”

April laughs. “Thanks, Cass. Y’know, you can probably get that tooth put back in if we get out of here fast enough.”

“Really? Maybe I look good with a missing tooth, though.”

“Hmm, I mean, it’s a look -”

A gust of warm wind puts an end to April’s mild roast. Their kidnapper turns quickly on their heels, sticking close to the wall as a mystic portal, made of geometric flames, appears just shy of falling off the ledge.

The cage is just too high to peer through, but April knows who’s on the other side by the voices alone.

“And where is April? ”

Their kidnapper jets out in front of the portal, right as April sucks in a breath to yell, “DONNIE, GET BACK!”

But it’s too late. Donnie comes flying in. First figuratively, then literally as his jetpack kicks in and tears him free of the kidnapper’s hold. He hovers above the mutagen, bo crossed over his chest as he takes in the scene before him.

His eyes land on April, glance up at the chain, then drift back to April. Despite the situation, he manages a smug grin. “So…still want pizza after this?”

What a Leo move, to break the tension with a dumb joke. 

Donnie drops his smile, cringing, before April laughs. His brain releases those pesky chemicals again, opening the blood vessels in his cheeks.

“You know it! Be a dear and loan a girl your tech skeleton key?”

“Alas, I was pulled through before I had the chance to equip my full arsenal. Please hold-”

He sees the masked figure coming, but knows he won’t have time to dodge whether or not the quip is finished. His staff takes the brunt of the figure’s punch, but the impact matters less than the sudden momentum forced upon him. He spins too fast to change course and smacks into the opposite wall from which he “entered.”

Donnie plants his feet against the stone. He goes to push off, but his one foot gives way. He is suddenly falling, fast, and he looks down to see a three-fingered hand wrapped around his ankle.

A large bubble rises from the mutagen and pops. The figure digs their nails into his skin. They reach up with their other hand.

Donnie kicks it away. The figure flails, then tries again. Donnie kicks their mask instead.

The hand around his ankle loosens. Donnie brings the end of his staff down hard on the mask. The following crack is covered up by the whirring of his jetpack as it musters the power to pull them back up.

“YEAH! GET ‘EM! FUCK THEM UP!” Cassandra howls.

Donnie pulls his staff away. A single eye is revealed. The pupil is black and raging . He brings the staff down yet again, and this time the figure deflects the end with the butt of their palm. They rake three talons along Donnie’s thigh, then grab hold of his utility belt.

Donnie hisses, whipping around the staff to smack the side of their head this time. But the hand around his ankle suddenly finds itself around his forearm, and with his sudden tilt, the jetpack sends them careening back into the wall whence he came.

SMACK! 

A fiery pulse gushes through Donnie’s skull. He crashes onto the stone ledge. His jetpack sputters, having taken most of the hit for him.

Donnie attempts to lift his head, despite how the slightest movement amplifies the pain. But a foot stomps itself down against his ear. The figure looms over him.

“ DONNIE! ” April rages. “LEAVE HIM ALONE, YOU MASQUERADING CREEP!”

Donnie vision wavers. Everything is washed out like an oil painting, the figure’s head leaving a smear as they look between the cage and their opponent.

They sigh.

“What a pain.”

They raise their foot up. Donnie winces. April and Cassandra scream.

Then his jetpack comes back online.

His one shoulder harness, damaged by the impact, breaks off as Donnie is skipped across the stone. He is lifted for a moment into the air, only to fall back to the ledge as his other arm slips loose.

He watches, prone, as his jetpack corkscrews through the sky.

Then it collides with the cage’s chain. And explodes.

Like any deus ex machina, April’s ninpō only kicks in at the very last second.

In the split second before the cage falls, the world shines jade. April grabs Cassandra’s hand, kicks the door to the cage off its hinges, and leaps into the air.

They are still falling, but at least they will be mutated with dignity, no longer locked up like cattle.

Or April could push her ninpō to its limits.

In her last moments as a human, why the hell not?

She channels the power of her bonds, the strength of her family, chosen and blood, flowing through her. Her energy swells and spreads to Cassandra, enveloping her friend in a mystic cocoon.

April looks back at her with a smile. There’s no time for words, so she just throws.

Cassandra goes sailing like a feather, the mystic energy cradling her gently down to the ledge. She lands just as April plummets out of her sight.

But not Donnie’s.

In those final moments, April, thrill-seeking, adventure-loving, brave-as-all-hell O’Neil, is scared. She knows whatever comes next won’t be good. There is something obviously wrong with that mutagen, and she realizes just then who all that mutagen belongs to.

She knew that mask was familiar.

Whatever this mutagen does to her, April will take it as it comes, because she may be scared but she is not afraid . If she were afraid, it would only be because no one would be coming to save her. April knows better than to believe that.

Donnie cries out, reaching for her. He is too far away.

April reaches back anyway.

She sinks like a stone.

Donnie rises onto his knees. He watches. Waits. The surface wobbles, then goes still.

The figure inches closer to the edge, and Donnie doesn't hesitate. His bo staff collides with the back of their head, and down they go flailing into the mutagen.

Except they don’t. Donnie peers over and sees them clinging to the side, talons clasped around a single, jutted rock.

He summons a mystic rocket to finish the job, then-

PHOOSH!

From the mutagen, April emerges. Soaring. Flying. Cawing .

Wings, the length of his staff, unfurled. Tridactyl feet, dripping mutagen, extend their claws.

There is no beak. But there are eyes . One above and two below the only pair she should have, and all red .

And the caw. It’s almost a hiss, like a canary crying out through the windpipe of a cat. Hoarse, pleading, and painful .

Donnie wants to cry.

Cassandra calls to her, but April’s screaming drowns her out. She meets his eyes, all five blinking out of sync, then flaps her wings with a snap .

The gust of wind knocks Donnie on his back. He sits up just in time to watch April dive through the tunnel.

Chapter Text

Calling the foot lieutenant turns out to be…awkward.

It’s hard reaching out to your old mentor when last you saw them, you stole their position of power by commanding a demonic piece of armor to your will. Then said piece of armor regained control of itself through your help and almost killed your old mentor and their partner.

At least the call is short.

“Heeeeeey…so, I kept the crystal…Also, me and Donatello--you remember him--are stuck in this creepy cave filled with liquid that will turn us into birds, apparently. He’s good, he’s got an escape pod--oh wait…well, he just released it. Without climbing into it first…soooooooo we’re both gonna need a little doorway outta here, if you don’t mind… PleaseI’msosorryIdon’twanttoturnintoabird …?”

The foot lieutenant glares a hole through Cassandra. Though, his glare is less so saying You betrayed me and therefore I will let you turn into a bird , but more so I just fell asleep and you woke me up for this?

Cassandra smiles nervously. She considers her chances at scaling the rock down the tunnel, just as that masked bastard did not a few minutes ago.

Then a stark white portal appears right beside her. 

The lieutenant is more than accommodating given the circumstances. He even lets Cassandra pillage his pantry. Though, once she shovels his entire box of strawberry Pop-Tarts into her mouth, Cassandra realizes she may be crossing a line.

“May I ask how long you plan on staying at my apartment?” he rasps. The little flame atop his head flickers slightly as he yawns. “I do have villainy to get to in the morning.”

Cassandra looks to Donnie. Donnie does not look back. From the moment he released his escape pod, his eyes have been locked on his phone screen. Cassandra decides against tearing his attention away; she doesn’t know the guy super well, but even she can tell this whole fiasco has him messed up.

 “I’ll call us a cab, so...not much longer? Have I mentioned how great it is to not be a bird right now?”

The lieutenant rolls his eyes. “Nobody should be turned into a monster against their will. Learned that the hard way. But just so we’re clear, Jones--”

“I know, I know.”

Cassandra slides a Pop-Tart across the table and bites into her messaging crystal.

Then, with a yelp, she takes back the Pop-Tart and hands him the crystal.

The lieutenant raises a brow. “Don’t swallow your tooth.”

“Huh? Oh, nah. I tried to bite through a steel cage…CRAP! I FORGOT TO GRAB MY TOOTH.”

He winces, pocketing the crystal in his fuzzy bathrobe. “Sorry. Only current recruits get more than one portal a night.”

Cassandra pokes at the exposed gum with her tongue. It hurts, but in that weird sort of way where she only wants to poke it more.

“Stop that. You’re irritating it.”

“Duh’s it l’uk c’ul?”

“You look like a toddler.”

She ceases her needless attack on her gums. A sudden sheepishness overtakes her, the kind she hasn’t felt since her mother caught her shaving her head for the first time without a guard. “Sens-Sir…thank you for rescuing us.”

The lieutenant simply nods. “Don’t mention it. Seriously, don’t . This was a one-time thing. Under no circumstances does this mean you’re welcome back into the Foot Clan…though, your enthusiasm has been missed.”

Cassandra can’t stop the skip of her heartbeat. “Really?”

None of our new recruits have the same level of spirit. I guess the Krang Invasion would lower moral somewhat…”

“I’m…glad you’re back to your old self.”

“As am I. Having an eye for a hand made fighting very difficult.”

A shrill ping! cuts through their conversation. Donnie looks up from his phone for the first time in almost an hour. His eyes look dully upon Cassandra. “Portal’s coming.”

Sure enough, not a minute later a blue portal slices through the lieutenant’s kitchen. Leonardo’s head peeks through from the other side, the stricken look on his face softening once he sees his brother. “Donnie-”

Donatello does not let his brother finish. He simply pushes him aside and steps through the portal.

Cassandra shoves one last Pop-Tart into her mouth. “M’sorry. H’vn’t ‘ntin in’a d’eh.”

The lieutenant shakes his head as she steps through.