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April figured it all started with a package hastily stuffed in her mailbox. It was barely small enough to fit, wrapped in that tough paper-cardboard material, and took a few careful pulls to get out. She couldn’t recall ordering anything recently, so the least she could do was try not to destroy what was most likely her neighbor’s mail. But when she flipped it over for the addressee, she was surprised to see “Mikey O’Neil” on it.
April and her “childhood pets” had been reunited four months back now, and it continued to throw her life upside down. A happy upside down, though. Those two names together were doing a number on the loner habits she’d built up since her father’s death. Apparently, all it took was four mutant teenagers and their father to start breaking down those walls.
She snapped a photo of the package and sent it to Mikey as she walked up to her apartment. Her phone lit up with a video chat request seconds later. The boys were just like any other teens when there weren’t bad guys to fight—they loved texting (on their one-of-a-kind turtle phones), sending her snaps, and video chatting whenever they could. April supposed that 15 years alone in a sewer could make one a little starved for new attention, and she was always happy to talk.
One of Mikey’s eyes filled the screen first, and then his grinning face when he pulled back. “You got it!” he hollered.
There was a thump from somewhere behind him, and Leo yelled something about peace and quiet when meditating. Then all she could see was a blurry carapace as Mikey quickly escaped to some other part of the lair. “You got it!” he cheered again, down to a whisper-yell.
“Sure did,” she answered with a smile, while making sure her apartment door locked behind her. “A little heads up would be nice, though. People do steal packages.”
“Man, that would’ve been no bueno. It has my name on it and everything.”
She shrugged—it was New York, what could she say. “About that… Mikey O’Neil, huh?”
He brightened. “Yeah! Makes sense, right? You’ve always been family even if we got separated for like, way too long, and who wouldn’t want to be a badass O’Neil?”
“Hm.” Her smile was fond even as she bit her lip to keep herself from doing something dramatic like tearing up. “You make some excellent points.”
Mikey nodded, seemingly proud of his reasoning. “You get me, April. So when are you gonna come hang out?”
“Not until tomorrow at least.” She set the phone on the counter as she turned to mess with the oven dials. “I’ve got to eat, and then a grimy bathroom and donation boxes are calling my name.”
Two weeks ago, a great aunt she hadn’t talked to since her father’s funeral had passed away and apparently left her succession rights to a New York miracle: a rent-controlled apartment above a quiet antique store. It was a dated unit and still smelled a bit like old people, but she was making it work.
A whine came from her phone. “Aw, shell… Oh, hey! We could help! Four mutants and a human are better than one!”
“That’s sweet, Mikey, but I’ve got this.” Plus, she was starting to pick up the brother’s dynamics. That visit would devolve into complete chaos in no time, given the cluttered mess. There were a lot of breakable objects she was still in the process of either packing up or donating.
“Your loss, Ape. Guess we’ll see you tomorrow.” He got up close to the camera again and whispered dramatically, “You’ll bring the package, right?”
She snorted and leaned over so he could see her face. “Pinky swear.”
“I don’t have a pinky, so I’ll have to believe you. Bye, April!”
The screen went blank, and April had a glimpse of herself in the reflection. She had to admit… her smile looked a lot more genuine these days.
In work news, however, life had been a lot of sucking up to Bernadette and the team after getting her job back, so she didn’t get down to the lair until late in the evening. Entering through the water system wasn’t exactly ideal, so they’d built a biometric, heavily enforced door as an alternative. Leo spotted her first as she shoved her way in and waved from where he was cleaning his katanas.
The new lair seemed to change every time she visited—more light-up signs or beat-up furniture appearing—and she still felt a little guilty for being the reason behind the move. The guys had assured her that they didn’t blame her, and they were having fun with the tall ceilings and tunnels in the new space. Splinter had even claimed one to start a bonsai garden.
“Hey, April! How was your day?” Leo called, carefully setting his weapons aside to get up.
“Not too bad, mostly research on some detox craze—”
“April!?” There was a crash from the back where they had set up a gym area in an upper opening. Mikey came tumbling out, almost right on top of where Raph was exiting the lower tunnel, and he gracefully avoided retaliation. “You got the goods?”
Leo shot her a confused frown, and she answered with a fond “don’t ask” look before rummaging in her bag to pull it out. “Yes, Mikey, I have the goods.”
Mikey bounced over and pulled her into a quick, bone-crushing hug before taking the package out of her hands. He ripped into it and pulled out a gaudy gold chain that looked like it once belonged in a 2000’s music video.
“Bling, bling!” he crowed and threw the shell necklace off to be replaced.
“Wait a minute, is that what was so important you had to order it?” Donnie said as he and Raph joined the group. “That’s such a waste of money!”
“Some ninja you are,” Raph snorted. “You can see that ugly-ass chain from a mile away.”
Leo hummed at that and then frowned. “Mikey, did you even ask April if you could send that to her place before you ordered it?”
Said turtle shrugged. “I knew she wouldn’t mind.”
The others seemed to erupt at once.
“Except it’s an unknown package being sent to her place, especially with the Foot Clan knowing her association with us—”
“Even worse, it’s inconsiderate to just assume—”
“Even worse, Leo? What kind of bullshit is that—”
April was an only child (well, not so much anymore), so she wasn’t used to how quickly one small thing could turn into a full blown argument. If pushing got involved, then 6-foot mutant turtles or not, she would break up that fight—yup, there’s the shoving.
“Guys, GUYS!” April moved forward and intercepted the beginning of whatever as they all avoided bumping into her. “It’s fine. You can have stuff sent to my place, I don’t care. As long as I can get it down here.”
It took a little more convincing to assure them that no, they were not imposing on her, and then they seemed excited about this new opportunity. Apparently, they’d had to scout out addresses before and sneak the package away before the occupants realized. Obviously, this was much more convenient.
Steadily, they all started to order stuff online (with what money or credit card she had no idea) and have it sent to her place. Parts for Donnie, books for Leo, and though she only felt it through the packaging, yarn for Raph. At first, Mikey was the only one who used O’Neil for the address. Then something changed, and they all started to use it too. A package of tea addressed to Splinter O’Neil gave her a small laugh one day. Raph had been the last to address himself as O’Neil, always so stubborn, and seemed almost shy when she delivered it.
April knew she was very biased on this, having seen them as teeny-tiny babies, but her little-big brothers could be pretty adorable sometimes.
The last name thing had come up with Splinter one day as they sat in his quiet bonsai garden, enjoying some tea while the boys burned off energy around the rest of the lair.
“I don’t want to overstep any boundaries or anything, but I’ll admit it’s… nice. My dad was really all I had for family, so it was just us and then me for so long. It’s almost like this has all… I don’t know, come full-circle? If that makes sense?”
Splinter smiled and reached out to lay his hand on hers.
“I was not lying when I said I modeled my parenting after your father. One way or another, you both cared for this family, and you know we consider you a part of it.” April nodded, a little choked up, and grasped his hand. He’d said it himself, but she wasn’t ready to fully relive how Splinter felt so familiar, so comforting.
“Besides,” he continued with a chuckle. “Michelangelo has quite enjoyed having a last name, and I think the others were a bit hesitant before they saw that you didn’t mind.”
“Of course not, I’m all for it,” April laughed, wiping under her eyes. “Now there’s more than just me to make the O’Neil name proud.”
One other thing she had discovered about being a big sister to four trouble-prone teens: full names were extremely effective.
“Donatello O’Neil!” she shouted the second she stepped into the lair, and all movement ceased. Leo balanced on one foot, mid-throw, Raph was mid-swing across the lair, and Mikey had an orange soda titled towards his face, where it slowly dripped down his front.
A weak “Oh, shell” came from the direction of the lab, and she stormed over. A taunt from Mikey followed but was quickly cut off with a grunt. Donnie was hunched over his desk, head turned slightly to look up at April’s furious approach.
“Why the hell did I just find a tracker in not one but all of my jackets?” She reached into her pocket, grasped the tiny devices, and tossed them on the desk. “I almost had a panic attack thinking I was being tracked by someone else. You know that’s been one of my worst fears ever since the Shredder, and we’ve talked about privacy and emergency plans, Donnie. I have a panic button on my phone, and I gave you permission to track it when absolutely necessary.” She let out a frustrated huff, pointing at the trackers. “What. Are. These?”
He’d sputtered a bit and avoided her eyes as she spoke, but he finally looked up when she stood silent, waiting for an answer. His shoulders drooped, and he wheeled back from his desk to face her. Even sitting, Donnie was only slightly shorter than her.
“Contingency plan,” he finally bit out. “Phones are most likely the first thing a kidnapper would get rid of to avoid tracking.”
“Wh— kidnapper?” That caught her off guard, and the tension in her shoulders released a little. Was there a new danger she didn’t know about? “But who… Oh.”
Movement on his tablet drew her eye, and the footage there followed a shady van that looked very familiar.
The Foot Clan—because an organization that big could still survive with their leader in jail for a year now—had disabled her turtle-approved security system and ransacked her apartment a couple of weeks ago. The cameras from across the street told them that and how the intruders had missed April coming home by a mere 12 minutes. They had obviously been searching for something specific, and she eventually realized it must have been the box of notes from Project Renaissance. Luckily, they had been stored in the lair for safe keeping.
After coming home to that mess, April called Donnie right away and started packing up her necessities. All four of the turtles had met her at her usual sewer entrance, and they formed a tense detail on the trip back. She worked out-of-office that week as she laid low in the lair and waited for the all-clear while they doubled up her apartment’s security. Splinter and the boys were good about giving her space when she was working, but she could still feel the hovering and worry. The guys had been in and out more often, Splinter always had some tea ready for her, and she just knew there had been many hushed conversations out of earshot.
Sure, deadly henchmen being in her apartment had freaked her out, but it had really freaked out her new family. April held her own against all of the weird shit they got dragged into, but there were always reminders that she did not have a shell or ninja training; a sprained ankle, one small concussion, too many bruises to remember, and even a few less inches of hair when it got singed in an explosion.
She looked between the tablet and Donnie, but now he held his gaze steady. “The Foot know where you live, and you refuse to move. This was the best way for us to always be there when you need us.” His voice was even, calculated, but his hands were clasped tightly and one foot tapped insistently.
Oh, her sweet, overprotective boys. Under all that bullet-proof shell, they were all just teenagers who had five people in the world to call family, and they did not take that for granted.
April sighed and turned to sit against the desk, holding out one hand. Donnie took it and held on, grip tight. “It comes from a good place, Donnie, but you have to tell me about these things. Trust goes both ways, okay?”
Leo, Raph, and Mikey were hovering around the entrance to the lab, and she gave them all a stern look to reiterate her point. “I know I don’t have a shell, but I am scrappy, stubborn, and awesome at running in heels.”
“Way better than the Jurassic World chick,” Mikey piped up, and Raph lightly punched his arm.
“You’re damn right,” April answered, smiling at his effort to lighten the mood. “So I appreciate the worry, guys, but you need to talk to me. I worry, too. You might forget, but you’re not invincible.”
“Better off than you,” Raph grunted. This time Mikey punched him, not as lightly. “What, it’s true!”
April sighed. “Come on, Raph, you know muscle isn’t everything.”
“No,” he grumbled, “but you got us. Whether or not you like it, we can take the hard hits.”
“What he means to say,” Leo said, shoving Raph back with his shoulder, “is that we were worried, and we didn’t think you were taking the threat seriously enough.” Donnie’s hand gripped hers a little harder, and she looked back to see him nod in agreement. “We are sorry about the secrecy, though.”
April sighed. “Fair point. You know I love you guys,” they perked up at that, “but having back-up is kind of a new thing for me. It’s habit to go solo, and it’s habit for you four to be a team.”
She held out her other hand. Leo was closest, and he took it with some hesitation. “Still a learning process all around.”
Mikey eagerly grasped Leo’s other hand and then Raph’s, refusing to let go even as Raph gave a shake, so they were all joined. “Family sticks together, bruh.”
The O’Neils had been a thing for awhile now, but writing it down was very different to actually saying it outloud. Mikey had no trouble claiming his new last name, and had even dubbed some pizza monstrosity he concocted from as many toppings he could get as the “O’Neil Special.” For the others, it took some time to say it—at least when she was around to hear.
Eight months. Donnie had been talking a mile a minute about a phone meeting set up with an award-winning engineer currently teaching at NYU. He’d been given 30 minutes to ask her all the questions he wanted. April had kind of bullied Vern into setting it up with his new connections, and Donnie had asked her to be there for moral support. She assured him it was all going to go great and to just make the call already. His shoulders went rigid under her hands when the call connected. “Hi! Hello, uh, this is Donatello O’Neil, I got your number from Vern? The Falcon?” She squeezed his shoulders in comfort, grinning proudly for many reasons.
One year and 2 months. Raph had been playing a one-on-one basketball game with Donnie while April refereed. Even as the self-proclaimed muscles, Raph was agile, and he did a quick maneuver around Donnie to score a perfect 3-pointer. “And Raph O’Neil makes the shot!” he whooped, doing a quick victory dance. He didn’t seem to realize it, but April certainly did. She felt warm and fuzzy after that, so she let him get away with traveling a couple minutes later.
For Leo, it just hadn’t come up yet. Although, one day she’d been stress cleaning their mess of a kitchen, and opened one beat-up book in curiosity to see “Leonardo O’Neil” neatly written on the cover page. That was enough for her.
Then her amazing family had finally gotten the acknowledgement they so rightly deserved.
“To you, brothers. Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, Michelangelo.” Chief Vincent paused. “Last name?”
The guys all glanced her way, and April didn’t care if her eyes were a little watery at Leo’s answer. “O’Neil.”