Chapter Text
Lately, April has been feeling slightly… disconnected from the world around her.
It's not that she can't hold a normal conversation with a stranger or that she's unable to write an article and talk in front of the cameras anymore. She can still do those things. She's pretty good at them, if she says so herself.
But these days, when she's watching a sci-fi movie the first thing she notices isn't the acting, the pacing or even how good the writing is. Instead, what passes through her head is “wow, that reminds me of Stockman's latest stunt a whole lot, wonder if he took some inspiration from it”. When she gets up every morning, she takes a second to think if her outfit would be a hindrance if she were to fall in a random wormhole and land in the middle of the Jurassic period.
Yesterday, while getting a cup of coffee at a Starbucks she couldn't help but wonder how no “evil bad guy of the week” had thought about spiking the city’s caffeine supply with mutagen or anything equally horrible.
New York would be done within the day.
So, when she found yet another one of the Foot’s latest victims just… laying there, what flashed through her mind as she called in 911 wasn't horror, disgust or surprise but bored resignation.
Of course the Foot would get out of this scot free. Of course the only thing she could do about it was call someone else for help…
Now, surrounded by four teenagers and listening to her voice coming from the tv while a reporter called for help identifying its owner, she regretted some of her life decisions.
“So, you're a murder suspect.” was Raph’s conclusion, amusement clear in his tone.
Leo, who had been pacing the room with a worried frown whirled to look at him.
“It's not a laughing matter, Raph. What if they put her in jail?”
Unflapped by this, Ralph snorted. “We’d break her out,” he said simply.
Leo shook his head. “We have to find a way to clear her name.”
Oh, honey… The thought was appreciated but…
“We would only make things worse, probably,” said Donnie with a grimace, voicing April's exact thoughts. “If someone notices what we're doing…”
“They're treating her like a criminal.”
Ralph rolled his eyes. “We’re all criminals.”
At this, Mikey perked up from where he was sprawled on the couch.
“Hey, maybe you’re a criminal but what did I do?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Living here is probably illegal and then there's breaking and entering, vigilantism, assault, theft…” Donnie piped in helpfully.
“Exist,” clarified Raph
Leo sighed. “Yes, but April is the only one that could actually go to jail.”
“We totally could, though,” retorted Mikey. “We’ve been in jail.”
“I clearly meant human jail.” he insisted, putting a strange emphasis in the last two words. Like the fact that it was run by “humans” made the whole affair a lot more worrying than the last 23 times she had seen one of these kids get thrown into some sort of… futuristic laser cell.
April had grow used to their strange hangups so she didn't try to ask why he thought NYC prison was so much more alarming than trigger happy dinosaur overlords with electric guns.
It would be marginally easier for them to break someone out of regular prison, after all, and if it did come to that there was no way she wouldn't take Raph's offer. Living as a fugitive in the sewers would be a lot better than the alternative.
She could even catch up with Splinter's soap opera.
“Look, it will be fine,” she tried instead. “I used one of my burners, at least, so they won't trace the call and the recording isn’t very good. As long as I lay low for a bit I’m sure nothing will come of it,” April affirmed confidently.
Apparently, despite having learned many things after meeting the turtles, not temptingly fate wasn't one of them.
A few hours later, on her way home, she bumped into someone.
Even if April had been slightly distracted, the reason she didn't see him was that the man had been crouching on the ground, just behind the corner of her apartment building. For a single moment, adrenaline shot through her body and she tensed, expecting trouble but, when she saw the man sprawled on the ground with his eyes comically wide from surprise looking up at her, she immediately felt terrible and moved to help him up.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” she said, pulling the man to his feet.
“No no no,” he reassured, shaking his head. “It was my fault, miss. I was just so distracted that I forgot where I was.”
With April's help, he managed to get back to his feet. He was short, maybe in his forties and dressed in an old, unkempt raincoat that matched the rest of his appearance. He gave her a sincere, bashful smile, scratching the side of his face.
“It happens all the time,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand. “The other day I was trying on some new clothes at the mall. Because… well, I’m happy with these. They're enough for me. But my wife insisted and her brother is going to marry in June, you see? And I’ll tell you. With all the excitement I didn't realise I was wearing them when I left… The alarm started blaring, people were shouting. I almost got arrested then and there!”
Ah, so he was one of those people that liked to have smalltalk with strangers.
She gave him a polite smile. “Don't worry, it happens to everyone.” she said, because, since she wasn't in a rush, she didn't mind waiting a bit. She had practically bowled him over, after all. It was the least she could do.
He smiled back at her before tilting his head in curiosity. “Say, you look awfully familiar but I just can't recall where…”
“I’m April O’Neil, from Chanel 6. You might have seen me on the news sometime.”
His eyebrows climbed to his forehead and he brought a hand to his head in surprise.
“Oh! April O’Neil. My wife is a big fan of yours. I can't believe I didn't recognize you. You sound… really different from how you do on the news.”
She chuckled at the familiar question. “Yes, we tend to. We use a neutral tone when we're on camera and we project differently. You’ll notice that a lot of news anchors sound the same. I don't usually go around the city “using this tone of voice”.” she concluded, pitching her tone a bit higher, her words sounding more neutral and clear. Exactly like a generic “televison voice.”
“No, I’d imagine you wouldn't. I really admire that, having to be so professional during your job, acting in front of the cameras…” he shook his head dramatically and lifted his hands in defeat. “Oooooh, no. I could never do that. I’ve always been a very messy person. Thankfully, my job is a lot less glamorous.”
“Oh, what do you do?” she asked.
“I’m a detective. It's just what I am good at. Curious by nature about everything, that's how I am. Can't help it. That's why I’m investigating this case… about the man they found just a few streets over the other day. Strange case, that one. And the only evidence they have is that call…” he trailed off, his eyes fixed on April, making her heart skip a beat.
But just as fast as it had started, the moment was gone. He broke eye contact with a shake of his head.
“Ah, sorry for keeping you. Thank you so much, miss O’Neil. You've been very helpful. We’ll be seeing each other. I’m sure.”
With that, he simply left, leaving April alone in the sidewalk.