Chapter Text
To mark April’s upcoming milestone anniversary at Channel 6, the network was planning to air a special series highlighting some of her most memorable stories with the station. Advertisements promoting the series had been running frequently for several weeks now. It wasn’t a major milestone, and anyone paying attention could tell it was another attempt by Burne Thompson to capitalize on her Broadcaster of the Year award to draw in viewers, but April appreciated the recognition of what she had accomplished thus far in her career. The first episode premiered immediately after the evening newscast on the anniversary of her first on-air appearance as a Channel 6 correspondent, and the staff organized a watch party in one of the large conference rooms to celebrate. Vernon stood in a corner the entire time scowling and looking like he was there under duress, but the rest of her colleagues offered their congratulations.
When the episode ended, April went up to her office to grab her phone and purse before heading with Irma to a party the turtles were throwing for her in the lair. The screen of her phone lit up when she picked it up off the desk and a new message notification popped up. Her eyes widened in surprise when she read it.
Congratulations on your milestone celebration.
The text was from a blocked number, but she knew who had sent it. She stood in the middle of her office staring at the message wondering how to respond, or if she even should. It had been months since she or anyone else had heard from him, and she had honestly never expected he would message her directly ever again. Was it really a simple congratulations or was there something else to it?
“April, are you coming?” Irma called from the doorway.
“Yep,” she said distractedly and cleared the notification before tucking her phone into her purse. Solving the mystery of the text message could wait for now.
“So, how many episodes are there?” Michelangelo asked her a short time later while handing out slices of cake to everyone.
“Five. It’s a week-long mini-series of half-hour episodes. And a lot less embarrassing than that awful billboard. By the way, we’re having another party when that thing finally gets taken down.”
Leonardo paused in taking a bite of his cake to shoot her a puzzled look. “How is it less embarrassing than a billboard?”
“Because instead of just saying I won an award, it lets my work speak for itself. People can make their own judgements. Also, unlike the billboard I was actually involved with making the series. Most of the clips they’re using are ones I recommended.”
“Any of the clips feature us?” Donatello asked.
“If I had my way, there’d be an entire hour just on you guys. But I knew Burne would shoot any of them down immediately. Had to pick my battles.”
Raphael scowled. “If that boss of yours knew even half of what we do to protect the City from Krang and Shredder, he’d—“
“Still find some way to blame you for something,” Irma interrupted with a shrug. “Like maybe all the potholes. Definitely the cleanup.”
Leonardo’s expression darkened. “Speaking of Shredder and Krang,” He looked around sheepishly as everyone else groaned. “I just was going to say, it’s odd we haven’t heard from them in a while. It’s making me nervous."
“Maybe that volcano the Technodrome is embedded in finally erupted and took them out,” Michelangelo suggested.
Raphael blinked at him. “Uh, okay that’s a little dark for you.” Turning to Leonardo he added, “And are you saying you want them to be causing trouble more often?”
“No. Just . . . For them to be gone so long, whatever is occupying them must be big. I’m concerned about what that could mean for us when they do make their move.”
Raphael snickered. “Too bad we can’t just call them up and ask them. ‘Hello Krang, Shredder? Your ghosting us is making Leonardo anxious. Can you please give us a status update on your current evil plot?’” Leonardo laughed along with the others, though with much less enthusiasm.
“Right, that was a bit of a buzzkill,” Michelangelo said. “Time to bring the mood back up. This is supposed to be a celebration for April!”
Donatello glanced at the clock on the cable box. “Uh sorry guys, I’m calling it an early night. Have to be at the old air base tomorrow at 4am.”
“I know I’m going to regret this but, why?” Raphael asked.
“Been following a project a couple students in the City University’s Aerospace Engineering Program are working on. They developed a spacecraft for an inner-system exploration mission the University is sponsoring. The launch is tomorrow and I kinda want to be there to see it.”
“But why 4am?” Donatello started in on an explanation about Earth’s rotation and the positioning of other satellites. Raphael quickly held up a hand and asked him to stop.
After congratulating April again, Donatello stood up from the couch and walked down the hall leading to the turtles’ bedroom. The party continued for several more hours. It was late – much later than she’d intended - when April finally returned home to her apartment. She got ready for bed and slipped under the covers with her phone, intending to scroll through her feeds for a bit before going to sleep. A little red dot popped up on the corner of the messenger app icon when she unlocked the phone. She’d completely forgotten about that anonymous text message from earlier. Leonardo’s concerns about not knowing what Shredder and Krang were up to drifted through her mind as she considered that dot. Raphael had been joking about contacting them of course. And as he said, the turtles had no way of even doing that. But what he didn’t know was April did. Well, one of them anyway. Nor did he know that she had, coincidentally, received a message from him that same day. Raphael would be furious if he knew what she was thinking of doing - they all would - but a reporter’s job was to follow any lead to get a story. Momentarily forgetting about the late hour, she opened the app and responded to Shredder’s text.
Thanks. Bit surprised you would say something like that though. She watched the screen expectantly, waiting for a reply. After several minutes passed with no response, she convinced herself there wasn’t going to be one and closed the app. It had been a long shot anyway and, she was willing admit, not really one of her better ideas. The phone buzzed in her hand as she was reaching over to put it on the bedside table. She jumped and sat up straight, heart hammering in her chest seeing the new message notification on the screen.
You’re up late. Shouldn’t you be sleeping?
Could say the same for you. Or is it not also 2am wherever you are?
Fair point. Why shouldn’t I congratulate you? You’re the best reporter that outlet has.
She snorted. Considering that really the only other option is Vernon, that might not be the compliment you think it is.
You are impossible.
So are you :) But seriously, messaging me out of nowhere after months of silence? Where have you been?
Is that your way of saying you’ve missed me?
She typed out No but paused before sending. That would likely prompt him to question why she was asking, and it wouldn’t do any good saying it was because Leonardo had been wondering what he might be planning. Deleting the text, she instead sent: Wouldn’t say that. But things are certainly much more interesting when you’re around.
I’ll take it.
You didn’t answer my question. She waited, but it soon became clear the conversation was over for the night. She suppressed a twinge of disappointment as she set the phone on the bedside table and turned out the lamp. Pulling the quilt up to her chin, she rolled onto her side and finally went to sleep.