Work Text:
April burst into Irma’s apartment and threw herself on the couch with a groan. Irma looked up from her kitchen table where she’d been working on a crossword puzzle. “Take it your date didn’t go so well?" April covered her face with her hands and moaned in affirmation.
“Another shallow loser who only wanted to be seen out with me. Apparently when they put your face on a giant billboard you become a local quasi-celebrity.”
“I’m sure being on TV six days a week contributes to that a bit, too.”
“Every guy I’ve gone on a date with in the last couple months has either been a jerk chasing fame, or too tongue tied to say more than a couple of words all night.” She lowered her hands and tilted her head to look over at Irma. “Am I really that intimidating?”
“I’m afraid to answer that question.” April grabbed one of the throw pillows and lobbed it over the back of the couch. It missed Irma and landed under the table. “Yes, you are truly terrifying. So, what’s your plan now?”
“Crack open a bottle of wine and binge some really terrible reality TV.”
Irma got up from the table and got two glasses out of a cabinet. “Red or white?”
“Both.”
“That bad, huh?”
“You don’t know the half of it,” April sighed. “I’m going to go change, I’ll be right back.” She started to stand up, but stopped when they heard a chirping sound coming from her clutch.
“You brought your Turtlecom with you on your date?”
“Learned it’s generally better to have it with me than not,” April mumbled, digging the communicator out of her purse and flipping up the lid. “Hey guys, what’s up?”
“Wow, don’t you look snazzy. What’s the occasion?” Raphael replied.
She blinked a moment, then realized he was referring to her makeup. April usually didn’t wear any unless she was going to be on TV and even then, it generally didn’t include heavy black eyeliner and dark sparkly eyeshadow. “I was on a date.”
“Was?”
“The less said, the better.”
“Well since your evening opened up, Donatello wants to go check out the solar tower installation, and then we’re going to hit up the Miller Theatre for the Midnight Monster Movie Mash. You in?”
April glanced down at her dark navy cocktail dress and strappy stiletto heels. “I’m . . . not really dressed for that. Rain check?”
“Sure, no problem. You’re still coming over next Friday for Trivia Night though, right?”
“Yep absolutely,” April feigned enthusiasm. “See you then.” She snapped the Turtlecom closed before he could say anything else.
“It’s still pretty early. You could probably make it to the theatre,” Irma said, setting two very full glasses of Cabernet on the coffee table and plopping down on the other end of the couch.
“My feet hurt.” April tossed the Turtlecom back in her purse. “And I’ve had enough of the males of the species for tonight.”
“They’re not really the same species, though.”
“You know what I meant.” Irma looked like she wanted to disagree, but just shrugged one shoulder and reached for the remote.
“Okay, what’s your pleasure: excessively expensive home renovations, or daily lives of people who are famous for unknown reasons?”
“Famous people, why not?” April said, slipping off her shoes and picking up her glass. “Stick with the theme of the night.” She tucked her feet up underneath her and took a sip of wine. At some point during their D-list celebrity marathon April caught Irma looking at her out of the corner of her eye, lips pursed in concern. “What?”
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the movie with the turtles?”
April held up her wineglass which by that point was half finished. “I’ve been drinking.”
“You wouldn’t be driving anywhere; you don’t own a car.” April made a gesture acknowledging it was a lame excuse. “Not that I’m complaining about a night of terrible TV, but there was a time you would jump at spending time with them. Did something . . . happen?”
“I just . . . need a break,” April said very quietly, setting the wineglass on the coffee table. Probably because she had been drinking, she opened up to Irma about how she’d started to view the weirder elements of her life differently after reuniting with her college friend Mark at the Broadcasters Convention, and that it might be good to balance them out with more mundane pursuits.
“That’s why you went diving head-first into the dating pool?” April tilted her head in a not-quite nod. That wasn’t the only reason, but it was as much as she could say without going back on a promise. “Well, pot-kettle-black and all that but please be careful, okay?”
April snorted. “Might not need to worry much about that. After tonight, I’m starting to wonder if it’s even worth the effort. Pretty sure I’m cursed.” It was very late - or very early - when she finally went across the hall to her own apartment.
***
“April’s not coming?” Donatello asked as he zipped up his parka.
“Nope. She went on another date that didn’t end well. Think she just wants to sulk now,” Raphael replied. “Dunno why she keeps going on these lousy dates since all they seem to do is make her miserable.”
Donatello shrugged. “It’s a human thing.”
“Yeah, but it’s not something she’s ever seemed all that interested in before. At least not in all the time we’ve known her.” Raphael tugged his knit hat on his head. “How much you want to bet she flakes on Trivia Night?”
“Raphael, that’s not fair,” Leonardo chided.
“What?! I can’t be the only one that’s noticed she’s been acting really weird lately. Like she’s trying to avoid us.”
“Nah, not just you,” Michelangelo chimed in. “Definitely something’s been bothering her.”
"April has her own life, and we do tend to take up a big part of it,” Leonardo said. “Maybe she just wants a little bit of space.”
“Hope that’s all it is,” Raphael said darkly. “It’s not like her to keep secrets. If something really is bothering her, she knows she can just tell us, right?”
***
April pushed an olive around her salad plate and wondered for probably the tenth time what she was doing here. The man sitting across from her was named Lyle. He had a long, thin face, thick black hair that stuck out at all angles, and dark framed glasses perched on a hawk-like nose. He was an accountant, and possibly the most boring person she’d ever met. On the other hand, he wasn’t a self-absorbed wannabe influencer like her last date so, points to him. She’d rescheduled Trivia Night with the turtles so she could go on this date, and every time she started to regret it had to remind herself that she was making a point to spend more time with humans. Humans she didn’t already know. Normal humans with regular jobs and things like mailing addresses, gym memberships, and student debt.
Their conversation had stalled, and she grasped for something to say to start it up again. “So you collect . . . bugs?”
"Lepidoptery is the collection and study of butterflies,” he corrected her.
“So you collect butterflies. That’s um. An unusual hobby.”
“Well, what hobbies do you have?”
“Uh,” Most of her other dates had been so disinterested in her as a person she was embarrassingly unprepared to answer what should have been an easy question. April thought frantically for something in her personal life that didn’t involve the turtles. “Yoga?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Was that a question?”
“Well, my friend Irma signed us up for a class and I keep meaning to go back for another one but y’know. Work.”
“I . . . see.” April winced. This wasn’t going well, and this time she was the reason. He definitely picked up on her discomfort because he asked, “You’re not really feeling this, are you?”
She considered trying to be diplomatic, but decided there was no point avoiding the obvious. “Honestly? No.” He nodded knowingly. “It’s not you,” she felt the need to add. “I’m. . . I’ve been sort of in a pattern for . . . a while. Trying to see what else is out there.”
“Well if it means anything, you’re not the type of person I would normally go for either.” April was surprised to admit that it did. He might have been a bit blunt, but it was strangely reassuring that she wasn’t the only one having a hard time finding someone to connect with. Their entrees arrived not long after, and with the pressure of expectations lifted the rest of their dinner became much more enjoyable. It certainly wasn’t the best date she’d ever been on, but at least it turned into a pleasant evening.
***
“April, these came for you.”
She looked up as Irma set a vase of flowers on her desk and scooted her chair sideways. “I’m not accepting any flower deliveries unless there’s a card attached. And even then, I’ll probably look up what exactly they are.”
Irma plucked the card out of the holder. “Says they’re from Lyle.”
“Lyle? Really?” April reached over and took the card from Irma and read it herself.
“Isn’t he that guy you went out with last week? The bug guy?”
“Yeah . . .” April said absently, flipping the card over to see if there was anything written on the other side.
“Thought you said it was just okay."
“I, I mean it was fine. He wasn’t awful. A little odd but, fine. We both kinda agreed it wasn’t anything special.”
“Well, seems like he might have been more into it than he said.”
“Maybe . . .” April mused, tucking the card back into the stand.
***
April offered to host Trivia Night at her apartment, figuring it was the least she could do since she’d been the reason they’d had to reschedule in the first place. Her phone started buzzing as they were beginning their second round. She reached over to pick it up off the side table and was so focused on responding to the new message notification that popped up on the screen she missed the next few questions.
“Uh, we interrupting something?”
“Hm?” April looked up at Raphael. “Oh no. Just got a message from Lyle.”
“Who’s Lyle?”
“Guy I went on a date with last week. Asking if I got the flowers he sent me.”
Leonardo’s head snapped up. “Someone sent you flowers?”
“Lilies, from a reputable florist,” she reassured him. "Not poisonous. Not unless you eat them, anyway.” He relaxed somewhat, but still looked tense.
“How’d you meet this guy?” Raphael asked.
She held up her phone. “Dating app.”
“You going to see him again?” Michelangelo asked curiously.
“I - maybe? I don’t know. He just suggested meeting up for coffee.”
“He sent you flowers after a first date?” Raphael narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What do you know about him?”
“My gosh, you’re like the older brothers I never wanted,” she muttered, sinking lower into the couch.
“We’re just worried about you,” Leonardo said. “We haven’t seen you much lately and . . . want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I appreciate the concern but trust me, he’s harmless. He collects bugs, for crying out loud!”
Raphael raised an eyebrow. “Bugs?”
“Well, butterflies.”
“So he’s a lepidopterist,” Donatello said sagely. When the other turtles looked at him blankly, he explained, "Lepidoptery is the collection and study of butterflies and moths. It was a popular hobby in the Victorian era. The Natural History Museum has a pretty big collection of specimens that date back to the 1800’s.”
“So, harmless unless you happen to be a butterfly,” Raphael clarified.
“Which, last time I checked, I’m not,” April pointed out.
Michelangelo came to her defense. “Chill out, bro. Not like she’s aiming to date Shredder or anything.”
“Nope, definitely not that,” she agreed tonelessly.
Raphael burst out laughing. “Can you imagine Shredder wanting to go on a date with anyone? And even if he did, I somehow doubt April would be his first choice. The two of them get along about as well as a cellphone and a sink full of water!” The other turtles snickered. April felt the back of her neck growing warm.
“All right guys, ease off,” Leonardo intervened, seeing April staring uncomfortably at the floor. “You’re right, it’s not our place to make judgements about how you want to live your life. But,” he caught and held her eye. “Promise if things do turn dangerous, you’ll call us?”
She gave him a small smile. “Don’t I always?”
***
Lyle accepted the bottle of wine April handed him and led her up the stairs to his apartment. He’d invited her over with an offer of a home-cooked dinner and, being a terrible cook herself, she was happy to accept. The stairs led directly into his apartment, which occupied the entire top floor of the building. It may have been a loft at one point but someone, maybe Lyle, had installed walls to break up the open concept. The exposed brick walls remained, along with a set of wide windows that would let in ample sunlight during the day.
“I shouldn’t be much longer. Have a seat, make yourself comfortable.” He gestured to the living room area, then disappeared into the kitchen. April wandered over to examine what she thought was a set of pictures hanging on the wall behind the couch. On closer inspection, she saw they were display cases containing tiny blue butterflies. Four cases, four butterflies in each.
Turning away from the dead insects, she found a bookshelf against the wall behind the loveseat. She pulled a book off a shelf at random and sat down to flip through it while she waited. It was a photo album filled with pictures of butterflies. Most of them looked to have been taken at Median Park. She groaned inwardly; he really was obsessed! April leafed through the pages, barely looking at the images. As she neared the end of the album, the pictures changed from real insects to models wearing elaborate butterfly costumes. She raised an eyebrow at the sudden shift in subjects, not sure if this made Lyle’s butterfly fixation more or less weird. One of the last pictures was of a young woman with caramel skin and silky black hair. April frowned and lifted the album higher so she could get a better look at the photo. The woman looked a lot like Lucia Alvarez, a City University student that had been reported missing a month or so ago. April had covered the story for Channel 6. She flipped back to the first of the model photos and studied the images more closely, stomach knotting in horror when one detail became clear: all the women in the photos were dead.
Something Lyle had said during their first date floated through her memory. You’re not the type of person I would usually go for, either. All the women in the photos were petite with either blonde or black hair. April was a tall redhead. No, she wasn’t his “type” at all, but she still couldn’t stay here.
April tore out the picture of Lucia and stuffed it in her pocket. The photo album slid off her lap when she stood up, landing on the floor with a heavy thud. Lyle came out of the kitchen as she was heading toward the stairs.
“Almost ready. Wait, are you going somewhere?”
“Uh, yeah I um just, I got . . .” His eyes tracked over to the photo album on the floor as she groped desperately for an excuse and his face fell.
“I was really hoping we could get through dinner first,” he sighed. April made a dash for the stairs but he intercepted her, seizing her wrists and driving her back toward the couch. She dug her heels in and they stopped before going more than a couple steps.
“So what, you troll dating apps looking for new victims to seduce for your dead butterfly cosplay?” She snarled.
He looked offended by the question. “Oh heavens, no. My specimens are always caught in the wild. I only went on that date with you because I’d never consider you for my collection. That red hair is so unappealing.” April wasn’t sure if she should be offended he’d just called her ugly, or grateful she didn’t meet his twisted beauty standards. “Then I started to see it. Papilio polyxenes isn’t one of my preferred species, but with your coloring it seemed most appropriate. Besides, you and I both know we were never going to work as a romantic couple. I need someone more intellectual.”
He tried to force her backwards again, but she leaned in and brought her knee up into his groin. As he doubled over moaning in pain, she questioned why she never seemed to think to do that to Bebop or Rocksteady. Because they’re bigger, stronger, and far more intimidating than this twerp seemed the obvious answer. She tore herself free and ran down the stairs. Lyle had recovered by the time she made it to the door on the ground floor - she could hear him thundering down the stairs after her.
April ran full speed down the street and ducked into the first alley she came to, pressing her back against the wall and hoping desperately he hadn’t seen where she’d gone. Running footsteps pounded along the sidewalk, getting closer. She’d promised Leonardo she’d call if she got into trouble, but if she did that now, it would give away her hiding place. April clawed her fingers into the brick wall and squeezed her eyes shut.
The footsteps stopped abruptly. There were sounds of a struggle, choking, then something heavy hitting the ground. April stayed pressed against the alley wall, breathing heavily, and waiting for whoever was out there to reach the alley. Several tense minutes passed and when nobody appeared, she peered cautiously around the corner. There was a dark shape on the sidewalk, but no one else in sight. She left the relative safety of the alley and approached the shape carefully. Lyle was lying on his side, unconscious but still breathing. His glasses lay shattered on the ground next to him. A flash of light reflecting off something on the rooftop was the only glimpse she had of her rescuer.
***
April sat on the parapet wall ringing the roof of her apartment building, feet dangling over the fire escape, staring dully out at the city. She’d called the detective that had been leading the Alvarez case and after some convincing he agreed to meet her at a bistro a few blocks from Lyle’s loft. She showed him the photograph and told him everything from matching with Lyle on the app, to finding the photo album, to him chasing after her when she escaped from his apartment. When she got to the part about how Lyle had come to lie unconscious near the alley, she said only that a Good Samaritan had seen her in distress and intervened but left immediately after, not wanting the attention. After several more rounds of questioning, the detective finally let her go with a warning that he’d be contacting her again in the morning.
At last, she heard someone approaching on the roof behind her. “So today I learned I’m an even bigger weirdness magnet than I’d ever realized, and that I have a stalker. Not really doing great things for my self-image. Or my mental health.”
“Stalker, or just someone who knows you have a habit of running head-first into danger without thinking?” Shredder asked.
“The two are not necessarily mutually exclusive. Especially since you’re the danger I’m usually running toward.” She twisted her lips in a grimace. “I feel like that might have come out wrong.”
“Honestly, what were you thinking?” He admonished, evidently deciding not to comment on her choice of wording. “He collects bugs as a hobby. That should have been your first sign something was off about him.”
“That he was . . . safe,” she said truthfully. “Boring. Normal. Or at least as close to what passes for normal in this city. Pretty much the opposite of every other man in my life. Present company very, very much included.”
“I’m so relieved to know you don’t find me boring,” he deadpanned. “Would hate to think I wasn’t trying hard enough.”
She was very glad he couldn’t see the weary grin spreading across her face. “How did you know, anyway? Actually no, don’t tell me. I don’t really want to know. That surveillance network you have could put the NSA to shame. Y’know if you ever decide to give up the whole supervillain thing, I’m sure they’d hire you.”
“I barely get along with Krang at the best of times. Do you really think I’d do well as a cog in a bureaucratic machine?”
“Very good point. Probably a rule about needing to be an American citizen, too. Would love to see you try to fill out that paperwork.” She pressed her hands into the stone coping and swung her feet gently back and forth. “So, you planning to make a habit of saving me rather than menacing me now?”
He chuckled. “Let’s not go crazy. Like you said, I am still the villain here.”
April smiled to herself again and hopped down onto the fire escape, turning to look up at him. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. After a pause she added, “Do you think we could keep this between us? I don’t think I could handle the amount of I told you so Raphael is likely to dish out.”
His eyes sparkled with amusement. “Would they believe it if you told them the whole truth?”
“No, probably not. Good night, Shredder.” She climbed down the fire escape into her apartment and immediately deleted the dating app from her phone. A moment later, she received a text message from a blocked number.
That was probably for the best.
She laughed tiredly and fired back a response. Another tick firmly in the Stalker column. Don’t remember asking for your approval, sir.
Thought we just decided I’m merely a concerned non-citizen.
You just wanted to have the last word.
Always.
When she didn’t receive any further messages, she turned the phone off and tossed it on the bedside table. She’d probably need to talk to Donatello about checking it for spyware tomorrow. There were more questions from the police to look forward to as well, but right now it was time for bed. Hopefully without any dreams about butterflies.