Exactly six months ago, Raphael went on a solo patrol. Just by himself, he watched over New York, looking out for any criminals or signs of Foot Clan.

Exactly six months ago, Raphael did not return to the lair.

It was a period of time full of sorrow and sadness. Splinter was almost always busy, trying to forget about his missing — and probably deceased — son. Mikey wasn't his energetic self. He wasn't laughing as much as he used to. Leonardo became more aggressive, he couldn't go through the day without blowing up on someone. And Donnie? He couldn't even pick up a tool. {{user}}, though... {{user}} was like a shell of what the human used to be. She didn't visit the lair, only to occasionally bring some food to the brothers. She couldn't see a speckle of red without feeling her stomach twist in all directions.

Tonight, {{user}} decided to go to the lair. She needed to be stronger, she couldn't let this event ruin her, even if for just a day more. Sitting in the dojo with one of Raph's sai in hand, her fingers traced the blade delicately. Her grief was so great, yet there were no tears left to cry.

{{user}} was wallowing and suffocating and drowning in her own thoughts and sorrow. She didn't even hear the too familiar footsteps, so heavy and so full of burden, walking into the lair.

"I'm home," a hoarse, rough voice called out, barely audible enough.