Monica stared up at the ceiling, listening to the music play downstairs, intermingled with the sounds of the adults laughing and glasses clinking together. She wondered what it would be like to one day be among them. But today, she was sprawled out on the floor of her cousin Carlos's bedroom, a thin blanket draped over her and no pillow, because the younger kids needed them more.

"Pssst." The loud hissing could only be coming from Carlos himself. He was next to Monica on the floor despite it being his bedroom. He opted to let little Omar have his bed instead. "Monica. Are you awake?

"Yes." She whispered back. The older she got, the more she had trouble sleeping at the holiday parties. She envied her little brother Andrés, who had started snoring long ago. 

"I am, too." Hector whispered from his spot next to the bed. Of course he would be. He was the oldest of the cousins at 16. He had made an argument to his parents that he should be able to stay downstairs this year. There was a bit of banter between the adults before it was ultimately decided that Hector was still too young. So he was banished to the bedroom with the rest of them.

"This stinks." Carlos muttered. "I don't understand why your guys' parents have to stay here so late. Don't we see each other enough? We all live like, 20 minutes away from each other."

"It's just how they celebrate. And it'll be how we celebrate too- when we're older." Hector sighed. 

Monica listened to Carlos shift next to her, and she glanced his way. He was now looking towards his bedroom window, and the light from the moon hit his eyes just enough that Monica could tell he was really thinking. "Are you guys excited to grow up?"

Hm. It was not like Carlos to be the deep thinker. "Why are you asking?" Monica muttered.

"Because I'm bored out of my mind and can't sleep." He grumbled.

"I am and I'm not at the same time." Hector answered. "Growing up is a lot of responsibility. My parents have started making me do a lot more around the house, especially helping to watch Omar. It's not any fun."

"Ha, yeah, cause Omar's a stupid cry baby just like Luisa." Carlos muttered.

"I am not a crybaby." Luisa whined from her spot in the room, causing Monica to roll her eyes. "You're just so mean that it makes me cry!"

"Shhhhh, do not wake Omar. You will regret it." Hector warned. The thought of Omar getting up was enough for even Luisa to stop crying.

"I wouldn't be so mean if you weren't so annoying." Carlos shot back.

"That's not even a good argument, because you're the most annoying out of anyone in this room."  Monica snickered.

Monica watched as Carlos's gaze switched to her, his eyes hardening. "Oh yeah? Well at least I haven't become a wet towel over the years. You're so lame! All you ever talk about is school and archery practice. News flash, loser, nobody wants to talk about that."

"Hey," Andrés' groggy voice pitched in, before he sat up slightly and looked over Monica to Carlos, "stop being mean to Monica or I'll tell my mom on you."

"I'm not scared of Aunt Julia." Carlos replied.

"I'll tell my dad, too." Andrés continued. Monica watched Carlos open his mouth and then shut it, causing her to snicker.

"What about you, Carlos? Are you excited to grow up?" Hector asked. Monica appreciated the subtle effort to reel in the fight before any (very drunk) parents got involved.

"Oh, heck yeah. I'm SO excited to not have to listen to anyone. I'm going to get a house so far away and I'm going to become a pro wrestler and everyone's going to be so jealous of me." Carlos sighed, as if he were picturing his future in his head.

"And you, Monica?" Hector asked.

Monica thought for minute, her eyes trailing back to the ceiling. They suddenly felt heavy. The excitement from arguing must have used up the rest of the energy her brain had to give, and she was grateful. The time between now and when her parents finally got her up to leave would fly much faster if she were sleeping. "Hmmm, I don't know. I kind of wish I could stay right here forever."

"Really? Why?" Carlos challenged.

Monica looked over at her brother, who was now dozing off after coming to her defense, and she threw her arm around him, pulling him in closer and sneaking her head onto part of his pillow. "I don't know. I guess this is just a nice place to be."

"What?" A much more gravelly voice asked, causing Monica's brain to whirl momentarily. Suddenly, she was no longer a 13 year old girl laying on her cousin's bedroom floor. She was sitting cross-legged in his old living room, the dim light sneaking in from the cracks of the boarded windows, just enough for Monica to see the work she was doing on Raphael's shell. He had four bullet wounds in his back, luckily not deep because of his shell, and luckily all missing the center of his body, where she knew his spine was located. 

The bullets were superficial and easy for her to remove, but it left open wounds and cracks in Raphael's shell that would need more intense medical attention. Monica could make due with what was available in the house, which was a very basic first aid kit with sterile gauze and tape. Along with cleaning the wounds, Monica's solution was to stuff the gauze into the wound, align any cracks as best she could, and apply tape over the whole thing. She would be able to do much better when they got back to New York.

"What did you say?" Raphael repeated, turning back slightly to look at Monica.

"Huh?" Monica looked up at him in confusion.

His eyes narrowed. "Did you hit your head in the accident, Hawkeye?"

"No, but I wouldn't be surprised if I have whiplash." She muttered. "Turn back around, I'm almost done with the last one."

Raph huffed and obliged. "You said "I guess this is just a nice place to be," out of nowhere."

Monica's cheeks turned warm as she finished taping Raph's last wound. "Sorry. I guess this place is bringing back old memories. This was my Uncle Carlos's house."

There was a small pause. "Did he..." Raph trailed off, unsure how to word the question.

"Yes, everyone. I lost everyone. They were all at my house that day." She whispered. 

There was another pause as Monica's hands fell back into her lap, finished. "I'm sorry." Raph stated. Monica was sure he was going to drop the conversation. Monica couldn't remember Raphael ever holding a conversation with her that wasn't related to training or patrols. And those conversations were very brief. But to her shock, he continued. "Did you... have any siblings?"

Monica blinked. "Yes, a younger brother. Andrés. I had a lot of cousins that were basically siblings though. We were really close."

"What were their names?" Raphael asked.

"Well, there's was Hector. He was older than me by a few years. And he had a younger brother named Omar. He was quite young compared to the rest of us. Andrés was the youngest cousin for a while but he was like, 4 when Omar was born. Then there was Carlos and Luisa. Carlos was my age and then Luisa was a little older than Andrés. I think she was like 16 when-" Suddenly, Monica's words stopped flowing, like her sadness consisted of small pieces of sediment that had built up so much in her throat the she was no longer able to speak. 

At this point, Raph had turned to face her. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I only asked because..." He let out a small laugh, and Monica swore his cheeks were flushing in a weird turtle way. "When we were back there I thought there was a chance that we were about to bite it together, and I realized that I hardly knew anything about you. And that... would have been unfortunate."

Monica had to keep her mouth from falling open. "Well... I can fix that. My name is Monica Angel Mireles. I was born in San Juan, Puerto Rico on May 21st. That makes me a Gemini. I used to work part time at an Urgent Care as a receptionist slash medical assistant part time, and I went to school full full time to get my bachelor's in nursing."

"Rewind, rewind." Raph interrupted. "What's a Gemini?"

Monica laughed. "That's my astrology sign. When's your birthday?"

"Uh, I think Shelby said it was September twenty-something." Raph stated.

"That makes you a Libra. Very interesting. I'd love to get ahold of your natal chart, see what your moon and rising are compared to your brothers." 

"Was that Spanish or English?" Raph asked. That made Monica laugh. Not a chuckle or snicker, which was really the only thing she found herself able to muster now-a-days. A real laugh that echoed off the walls and caused her to have to hold her abdomen, specifically her left side, which was worse for wear after being kicked by the Invisible Man. The sound was enough to make Raph chuckle as well.

The laughter was cut short when Monica's phone began to vibrate on the floor next to her. She picked it up hesitantly, expecting to see Donnie or Leo's caller ID, but it was an unknown number. Monica was tempted not to answer. After all, what if it was the two assassins that tried to take them out earlier? But she clicked the answer button and placed it on speaker. "Hello?"

"Is this Monica Mireles?" A familiar voice asked on the other line. It was Shinigami. 

"It is." Monica answered. She was assuming that Shinigami had gotten her number from Leo. 

"Good. I am calling because we arranged to meet 4 hours after you departed at dusk, but you have not arrived. What is the dilemma?"

Normally, Monica would appreciate the bluntness. After all, many people consider Monica blunt. But after the events of the evening, Monica was not in the mood for anyone that wouldn't have empathy for their situation. "We were derailed when we were attacked by two of Shredder's henchmen. They implied that they were specifically sent out to prevent any aid coming for Karai. We only escaped because they were afraid of getting caught up with the cops."

There was a small pause as Shinigami took in this information. "So what's the new course of action? Are you still coming?"

"Can we have a second to breathe?" Raphael growled. If Shinigami heard him, she did not acknowledge him.

Monica was equally as irritated. She fought hard to keep her tone even, like she was talking to an agitated patient. "Look, Shinigami. We're really beat up here. It might be better to just have Leo and the others come to aid you instead. They'd probably have better luck as long as those two henchmen were the only ones surveillancing New York."

"No, Karai was insistent that Leonardo not be involved and I will keep her wish." Shinigami countered. "From my own intelligence I've gathered, we do have a small window of time. Whispers suggest 2 days. Could you get here in 2 days?"

Monica looked at Raphael. He was glaring at the phone, and when he looked up at Monica, he rolled his eyes but ultimately gave a small head nod.

"That works for us." Monica agreed.

"Good. This number can be used to update me. I will see you then." Shinigami stated before the line went dead.

Raph sighed, leaning against the plastic covered couch behind him. "Nothing like getting shot at and being expected to save the Shredder's daughter 2 days after."

"This is not the best course of action for healing, that's for sure." Monica muttered. "I don't even know what shape Shelby's in. She could have crawled upstairs and died for all I know."

"What does it matter? Shelby is useless anyways." Raph grumbled.

"Don't say that." Monica snapped. "She saved our lives back there. We owe her our lives."

"I owe her nothing. She's a murderer." Raphael hissed.

"No, she is not." Monica argued through clenched teeth. 

"Yeah? Then why is my best friend dead?" Raph yelled.

"Because he saved Michelangelo."

"From who?" Raph demanded. "Who did Casey have to push Mikey out of the way from? There's only one correct answer, Angel." 

The use of her middle name with that tone only aided in filling Monica's mouth with venom. "That's how you treat me after you asked me to open up to you?" She demanded, standing up so that she was looming over the turtle, her fists clenched. "Hawkeye, Angel, whatever else you may call me behind my back. I've had enough of it. You walk around thinking everyone and all their mistakes are unforgivable, but you make just as many mistakes and expect everyone to kiss the ground you walk on. Well you know what you can kiss, Raphael? My fucking ass!" She screamed. Monica turned on her heels to storm off but her foot hit the side of the first aid kit on the ground. With a grunt, she kicked it across the room before continuing to storm away to the master bedroom, locking the door behind her.

She sat on the bed, her body writhing with anger. However, that anger ebbed away as she looked around the room. It was frozen in time, left exactly how a couple would leave their room if they were rushing to arrive on time to a party. The bed was made. She knew her aunt was very particular about those kinds of things. There was a half full hamper of clothes in the corner with men's pajamas strewn around it instead of properly placed inside. Monica looked into the bathroom, where she could see her aunt's makeup items and lotions decorating the vanity in an unorganized manner. Two toothbrushes laid abandoned by the sink. On her aunt's bedside table, there was a full bottle of perfume. 

Monica scooted over on the bed towards the table, picking up the bottle and opening it. She inhaled the fumes deeply, the tears spilling over onto her cheeks. This was too much. She should not have come here. Hiding out under an overpass would have been less mentally taxing than this. 

The door handle jiggled as if trying to be opened, before a groan was heard from outside. "Open the door." Raph stated from the other side. Monica ignored him, simply carrying the bottle with her to the bathroom and closing that door behind her as well, making sure to twist the lock before sitting down on the floor, leaning up against the outside wall.

"I will break down the door." Raph threatened, his voice sounding much further away now. Monica kept her eyes trained on the bathroom door as tears continued to stream down her face. She wished she would have left one of the windows open so Raphael would think she had escaped the house and left. And then when she thought of that, half of her brain urged to her to do just that. Leave. Never come back.

Sure enough, there was a bang and crash as the wood splintered and the door hit the wall. Seconds later, the handle to the bathroom door wiggled and Raph cursed. "Seriously? Aren't you supposed to be the adult here or something?"

Maybe. Maybe she was supposed to be the adult. The mother figure of these wayward teenagers. But Monica didn't want to be. She wanted to be a 19 year old, still a teen herself, coming home from her classes to complain to her mother about how hard her classes are, and when she cried, she would get a kiss on the forehead and a plate of cut up mango brought up to her room. Thinking of her mother made her cry even harder, and now that it was audible, it was a good couple minutes before Raphael spoke again.

"Mona," he started, "please. Open the door. I'm sorry."

Monica looked up at the door for a minute in disbelief. The sudden silence must have been concerning because Raph grabbed at the handle again. "Mona?"

Yes, she had heard him right. Slowly, she got up, wiping her face with one hand as she clutched the perfume to her chest with the other. She unlocked the door and opened it slightly, peering out at Raph. "I do not want to talk to you right now."

"That's fine," Raph said, pushing the door open wider. "I'll do the talking." He cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. He seemed to be trying to look Monica in the eyes but he couldn't maintain it, so his eyes kept bouncing between her and the ground. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any of that stuff. I shouldn't say a lot of the things I say to you. I just," he shifted uncomfortably. "Casey... he was my best friend, you know?"

Monica could hear the strain in his voice within the last couple words as he turned and made his way to the bed, plopping down on it, his face slightly turned away to obscure Monica's view of it. Monica hesitated for a couple moments before following suit, sitting down next to Raphael, though she kept her eyes trained on the floor in front of her. "It's hard for me to deal with this because there was so many points where if one thing didn't happen, things would have been different. If Mikey would have just defended himself, if Casey would have just stayed back, if you didn't help Shelby get out of the lair. And... if Shelby just hadn't done it." 

Monica nodded. That was fair. It is true that Monica and Shelby going to April's farmhouse allowed Shelby to fall straight into the Foot Clan's possession. Now was not the time to argue what was the correct course of action though. What would have happened if Shelby had stayed was all conjecture. All that mattered was what did happen.

Instead, all Monica muttered was, "That wasn't Shelby."

Raph shook his head. "I know. I know that. My brain tells me that. Leo tells me that. Sensei tells me that. Everyone has been telling me that 'til their blue in the face. But at the end of the day... Casey's dead." Monica watched in her periphery as Raph reached to his face and began wiping away tears, but she made sure not to turn her head. "He's dead, nothing will change that, and I watched Shelby do it. Even if it was technically her brother or the Shredder or freaking Al Capone, I watched her do it. So... it's hard. And I need more time to forgive her. If I ever can."

Silence fell between them as Raph continued to try and stifle his crying. This was the first time Monica had seen Raph cry since the day Casey died. Of course, she knew that he cried when he was alone. That's why he asked to have Riley visit his room all the time. For non-judgmental comfort. Raph did not come off as a very complex man, but the reality was that he had a very wide range of emotions, and he was showing that right now. He was sad. He was lonely. And he no longer had his best friend. 

Monica took a chance. She reached over and placed a hand on Raph's shoulder, causing him to look at her with bloodshot eyes and a flushed face. "I forgive you. And I'm sorry I snapped. We are both hurting and taking it out on one another. These feelings are hard but they are easier to handle with a friend. I know I am no Casey Jones... but I could be your friend. And I could help you feel better when you're feeling down. Whatever that entails."

Raph stared at Monica in disbelief, before clearing his throat, his face flushing even darker as he placed his hand over Monica's, squeezing it slightly. "That, er-" he looked away, "that would be nice."