Ninja Turtles 1. Prologue

**Welcome to my fic, Damarikomu. The history of this story is based loosely on the first major film. **

**There are a few OC characters here – which hopefully won't scare too many people away and I hopewill all add something different and enjoyable to the story =). If you take the time to read, please don't forget to throw in a comment or review as it really helps me to stay motivated and I appreciate any and all feedback! **

**Enjoy!**

**~Nightshade**

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'Haaai!!!'

The dojo rang out with fierce cries as over 30 men completed the kata with a drop spin kick, leaping back up to their starting positions with a three slice combo with the bokken. As one, they held that way, weapons extended as their leader walked amongst them. Each felt a shiver of apprehension as her cold gaze swept by. They were new recruits only recently initiated, except for the front row who performed as examples to the rest.

'Good.'

Karai watched them bow respectfully and signalled the lieutenant leading the session. He half-bowed and gestured to a young man on the end of the front row with rough black hair and sky blue eyes. Will Summers racked the bokken and followed her out the door.

'Your form is excellent. I am pleased you give your time to show the new recruits the quality we expect from our warriors.'

Will felt his face heat slightly from the compliment, a rare enough event to unsettle him. Karai's voice had a strong Japanese accent that made her perfect English sound smooth as melted butter. It was a sensual, dangerous voice when she was pleased.

'It's my pleasure, Mistress.' She led them out into the greater warehouse.

'You have only been with us for a year but you have shown yourself worthy of more than simple foot-soldier status.' She continued. 'From now on you will accompany me and perform tasks better suited to your skill.' Will bowed to the waist and accepted the black katana she handed him. The sheath had the dragon symbol carved into the wood with an extra sigil indicating his greater status.

'I am honoured to serve you, Mistress.' He hoped he didn't sound too shocked. His mind whirled... assistant to the clan leader. Surely he hadn't been around long enough for such an ... honour? Was it a trick? Did she somehow know the real reason he was here and was setting a trap for him? He stamped down on the sudden fear before it could reveal him.

'Come.' She said sliding behind the wheel of a silver BMW. 'You will accompany me on business tonight. There are clan contracts to maintain.' She pinned him to the seat with her gaze. 'You will remain silent and guard my back. You will not disappoint me.'

Will lowered his eyes in assent and snapped the seatbelt in place, trying to suppress the deep sense of unease he felt at this sudden promotion. He hid it well. It didn't do to show fear in this business.

**** **** ****

'Karai. Always punctual. Come into the office.' Will eyed the gentleman with instant dislike. He was in his forties, dark hair and eyes, dressed like a businessman but for the white coat indicating his position as a scientist. He followed Karai into the richly furnished office. The carpet was black and wood panelling covered the walls with rich dark timber. The desk across the room was a semicircle of pure black marble and numerous computers and laptops were arranged amidst neat stacks of files. The effect was slightly intimidating. He subtly lifted the hilt of his katana with his thumb, just to check it was loose and ready to pull free if needed. _Nervous much? _

'Who's this Karai, a new lieutenant? You know you don't need protection here.' Will met Barras's penetrating gaze with his own icy blue stare. He was not required to show subservience to clan associates as long as he wasn't rude. The new clan facemasks were simple black bandanas embroidered with the foot symbol. They were much more comfortable, made it easier to see in battle and gratefully hid the uneasy slant of his lips.

Karai ignored the blatant power play. 'The month's quota?'

Barras smirked at the reply, which conceded nothing, and handed her a file from the top of his desk. 'Just the usual cleanup, quite dull at the moment I'm sad to say.' His black eyes were direct. 'Our arrangement has been quite convenient so far. Your people are very efficient. So far there have been no embarrassing botches with the police or FBI. I'm quite pleased.'

Karai inclined her head subtly. 'Our arrangement has been mutually beneficial.'

'No doubt.' Barras snorted. 'I'm paying you through the nose for very little real work, but as I said you're efficient at tying up these loose ends without drawing undue attention and that's what I need. As long as we keep it that way I'm happy to continue subcontracting your services _despite_ the exorbitant price tag.'

Will had never heard anyone speak to Karai with such blatant disrespect. It was a wonder she didn't have her blade at his throat, but she held her temper well. It didn't do to assault clients when you specialised in ... customer service.

'Now if that's all – I need to get back to work.' He said moving back around his desk.

'There is one more thing.'

Barras looked up in surprise. 'Oh?'

Will took the folder she back passed to him without looking.

'I have become aware of what it is you do here.'

Barras quirked a brow and sat back in his expensive leather chair. 'Indeed?'

'You have an interest in the paranormal... in studying strange phenomena, do you not?'

Barras smiled coldy. 'That's a crude way of putting it, but in essence, yes. Here we study the strange and potentially profitable freaks of the world. Telepathy, Telekinesis, physical mutations - there are many things in the world that can't be explained simply because noone has bothered to research them properly. Our company removes these threats to society and studies them for the benefit of mankind. Now what's your point?'

Karai slid a picture from her pocket and held it tantalisingly. 'I may have a business proposition for you.'

'Another contract, hm?' Barras eyed the photo. Karai tossed it to him and he examined it critically. 'You're kidding me right? This is just some guy in a costume.'

But something in Karai's expression must have made him look twice because he cleared his throat and examined the picture again. Finally he looked up. 'If this _is_ real ... it would be incredible! I assume you have more than one dodgy picture to go on with this proposal?'

Karai smiled calculatingly, her eyes glittering. 'I assure you it is authentic, but this is just a photo. The more appropriate question is, how much would the real thing be worth to you?'. Barras's eyes narrowed in consideration.

Will couldn't get a good look at the photo from his position, but knew in an instant exactly what they were talking about.

**** **** ****

'Mistress Karai, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but – don't we currently have a truce with the turtles?'

Will kept his eyes lowered as she glanced at him. The negotiations had taken three hours and his mind was still swimming with zero's from the figure she'd wrung from Barras. It would put the clan in quality weapons and armour for at least twenty years.

'The conditions of the treaty are clear and we cannot break them without staining the honour of the clan.' She agreed. Her eyes turned back to the black road before them. 'However, the truce was only ever a temporary arrangement. The death of the Shredder must be avenged.' They arrived back at the dojo and he followed her into her office, decorated in traditional Japanese style with bamboo screens and matting.

She walked to a wooden rack at the side of the room where four breathtaking katanas and a pair of Ninjaken lay gleaming in the soft light. She lifted one sheathed in polished midnight black wood, the handle bound in black and silver cord. Reverently, she drew the blade halfway and he stared at its perfect deadly beauty.

'Lovely, is it not? The weapon of a true ninja - forged by the legendary Masamune, there were none more skilled than he in the world. Far superior to the blade at your side. It is priceless.'

She looked him in the eye over the gleaming blade.

'The treaty binds us unless the turtles directly interfere in clan business. We will simply offer them an opportunity to break the conditions.' Her smile was cold, humourless. 'And when they do ... we will be waiting.' She re-sheathed the blade and placed it back on the rack gently. 'I have a task for you in this. You will tell no one, and the rewards ... will be great.' She indicated the dark sword with a slight smile and a gleam in her eye.

Will bowed deeply, partly so she couldn't see the covetous light in his eyes. 'I am honoured to serve you in any task. What do you wish me to do?'

'They have a weakness. Of the four there is one whose temperament makes him predictable, weak. It is he who will feel our wrath first. They call him Raphael.'

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I dare you to read Chapter one =P

~Night


	2. Chapter 1 Blood and Memories

_Blood ...!?_

Donatello drew back with a shiver of disgust, his hand gleaming wetly. He was so tired of blood. It was everywhere, his past, his dreams, there was no escaping its cloying stench. He scrubbed his hand clean against the brickwork roughly. In 20 years of fighting and struggling to survive, he'd seen more than enough blood to paint his dreams crimson for a lifetime. Brother, friend and foe, all of them veiled in the red haze that seemed to permeate his life. It was a burden he had learned to bear, but the stained faces, their eyes cold and dead, would never be far away, along with the guilt. Survival always came at such a high cost.

Don knelt to examine the hatch more closely. Smears, roughly hand shaped and a thick dark splatter across the rusted surface. His own touch had wiped the handle mostly clean. Who would possibly be in the old lair, bleeding like this? Some poor fool lost in the underground? Foot? Surely after two years they wouldn't still be watching this place? Then again, Karai was insane, predicting her behaviour had never been an easy task, even for him. It would be her style to leave some kind of sick booby trap, just in case they dared to return.

He could hear Splinter's voice in his head reminding them yet again, with those large haunted eyes, not to come back here. To avoid all their old territory and never re-enter the city alone. Don could probably count on one hand the number of times he'd directly disobeyed his father. This was one of them. Considering his hand consisted of just two fingers and a thumb, it made the deception fairly significant. Leo might have stopped him from making the journey from Hampton to New York alone, except that Leo also had no idea he was here, an argument Don was happy to avoid.

Don settled back on his heels and weighed the options. He had never been one to act without thinking and they were too vulnerable for him to start now, but a hope was forming in the periphery of his mind, growing despite his reluctance to acknowledge it. He frowned, smoothing his hand across the cool, polished wood of the Bo, comforted by its familiar presence.

_It's been two years, why should things have changed?_

Two long years. A lifetime. He sighed uncertainly. In the end, it would be a long, cold, completely wasted trip if he didn't investigate. Don had never been one for wasting anything. Inefficiency frustrated him when there was always so much to do. Yet ... he still had hope, which Leo could argue was a waste of energy in itself.

_Get in, get out and go home. I'm here to see what's left to salvage, not to wallow in the past._

A shiver worked its way up his spine. The tunnels were icy with winter. The bone-deep cold of the underground that had threatened them every year as children. Luckily they had inherited a mild warm-bloodedness from their mutation, giving them some resistance to the dangers of freezing to death. Unfortunately, they'd all retained the turtle's instinctive desire to hibernate in intense cold and the nagging desire to sleep drained strength and the ability to think clearly. Adrenaline was the main thing keeping him warm at the moment but that wouldn't last if he lingered much longer. He hesitated. Hope was nagging again.

_I didn't come here to find him!_

Affirmations sounded hollow but Don was used to it.

_Enough. Just do this and leave! _

He gripped the edges of the hatch and PULLED with all his strength. Hinges gave way with the reluctance of rust and years. A blood-curdling shriek of metallic protest that clawed its way up his spine and echoed through the tunnels like the wail of some demonic banshee. Don cringed, ears ringing.

_So much for stealth. Sloppy._

Senses alert, he found the ladder descending into darkness and lowered himself in, dropping silently.

_It was just as he remembered it and yet at the same time so completely, utterly different... _

The lingering smell of charcoal, ash sifting around his feet in soft puffs. Weapons scattered across the floor. Broken swords, scorched furniture, smashed wood. Shurikin glinting dully in the brickwork like faded stars. He traced a thin scar along his left bicep, fiery pain retasted. All was silent.

Don padded warily amidst the ruins of his old home, adrenaline and memories coursing through his veins.

There;

_He saw Mike standing quietly, lost deep in thought as he absently twirled his nunchuku._ _Splinter watched quietly. Sensei had become a bystander at practices since their official training was over, but that didn't lessen the hot, expectant glitter of his gaze as he studied their every movement. Don was doing his best to focus. _

The day was burned into his mind, a reel of memory so often repeated it played like a movie, distorted by shadows and exaggerated shapes. He'd watched Mike's chuks whirl before him and knew exactly what had his younger brother so distracted.

_Don considered saying something reassuring, but couldn't settle on anything that wouldn't sound hollow, so he said nothing. Raphael had been missing for an entire fortnight now - stormed out in a fit of fury and never returned. For days they'd combed the rooftops, seeking some sign of him. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Especially if Raph didn't want to be found. Leo was distant, torn between cold anger that Raph might deliberately stay away for so long without sending word, and the growing sensation that something was terribly wrong. _

_There were no traces to follow, no clues, nothing but the ominous presence of the Foot. They seemed to be everywhere all of a sudden, lurking in the shadows. The silent black ninjas always appeared to be on their way elsewhere, but still, the brothers all felt the dangerous tension of those encounters. Mike was angry; shouldn't they at least find out what the Foot were up to – they could have Raph tied up somewhere! But Leo believed in Karai's honour, stating that if the truce were to end it wouldn't be because the three of them had broken their word and he trusted Karai not to break hers. So they left the Foot to their night's work and continued to search for their wayward brother. Don couldn't help but notice that he led them home via the most convoluted routes every night. Even Leo, who had more faith in Karai than any of them wasn't willing to risk being followed home on the foundations of a truce forged with the Foot. Besides, if they already had Raph then why wouldn't they have attacked by now? Unless they were waiting for something ..._

Two years and Raph had not been seen. Not even by Casey or April. It was all the stranger because for weeks, things in the lair had been so quiet. Raph seemed to be making a monumental effort to control his temper, there had been a few moments where Don had flinched, waiting for the inevitable explosion of anger, only to be surprised when their most volatile brother did no more than sneer tightly, storms flashing angrily behind amber eyes. There was the usual tension between Leo and Raph of course, but that was an ever present norm in their lives. Still, when the voices started rising from the dojo one evening and there came the inevitable sounds of Raphael leaving for some air, none of them had realised it would be the last time they ever saw him.

_Don leapt at his brother, whirling the staff for an overhead strike and Mike leapt back, starting to put up a half-hearted defence and then ... chaos. Leo sprinting in shouting a warning as wave after wave of Foot flooded in behind him like a thick, black cloud, swords flashing like lightning. An army of them – an ambush with one directive. Extermination. _

He breathed deeply remembering the screams of battle, defiance, rage and agony. The deafening boom of an explosion that shattered the chaos with glass and fire and thick coiling smoke. The faint copper scent of blood still mingled with the acrid ash. Don had hoped there might still be some good memories here, but the place he'd spent his teenage years was gone. Desecrated and vandalised. It lay rotting in the bowels of the city, a charred corpse of memories once called home. Good times lay smothered under an inch of ash and sorrow and all he could feel when he looked around now was pain. So where was home now? He supposed it was the farmhouse, but it wasn't the same. The farmhouse was only meant to be a temporary arrangement, but none of them could bring themselves to suggest moving back to the city.

He wondered yet again if Raphael had seen the wreckage. But if that were the case, why hadn't he come to Hampton – their last hiding place? The only explanation any of them could think of.. was that somehow Raph had broken the truce and he was either already dead, or too ashamed to come home and face them.

Donatello breathed deeply, painfully and moved on.

The nook where he'd tinkered for endless hours with computers and gizmos was a scorched black ruin. Hoping for more had been foolish. Of course they had come back here and destroyed what little the fires had spared. Everything was either melted to strange lumpy paperweights or smashed and twisted beyond recognition.

_All that work_, he mourned, _all that time spent scrounging through industrial bins and fixing, wiring, piecing together every single board, wire and chip!_

He allowed himself a moment to feel the bitterness of loss, but it was a selfish moment when he knew others had lost so much more.

His feet brought him to the scorched and shattered remains of the old train carriages they'd used as bedrooms. The fires here had been worst, where the explosion had gutted them like fish. Even after two years the residual smoke and fumes were still strong enough to make his eyes burn and tear_. _

_It's all gone …_ He clenched his jaw against the black depression that threatening to drown him. Rage, Bitterness, Loss … And the question Don had asked himself almost every day for the past two years.

_If Raphael had been here, would things have ended differently?_

The answer? His heart said No. How could one person have done anything to alter the outcome except bleed? But every time Don thought of Splinter or Mike, he had to agree with Leo. Something, anything - if he had only been there when they'd needed him_. _

_Where were you, Raph? Where are you? Dead? Hiding?  
_

His sharp eyes found a scrap of bright material amidst the charred mess. It looked like a corner from one of Mike's ridiculous Hawaii shirts.

_Mikey. _He was so lonely with Raph gone. Not even sleeping in Don and Leo had helped since he even missed that awful snore. Don could still hear Mike complaining that it was too quiet to sleep, his light tone a contradiction to the eyes red-rimmed with lack of sleep and made worse by the vivid scars, still raw and painful. It had taken a long time, but as a year passed and nothing changed each of them had come to terms with Raphael's disappearance their own way.

Splinter seemed torn inside, unable or maybe unwilling to speculate on his son's fate. His inner anguish was clear to them all, though he had reserved his own emotions to focus on the needs of his traumatised family. In the days leading up to the raid, Raph had been so subdued and secretive, that it was difficult for Splinter to be 100% confident of his son's honour. He didn't share these thoughts openly, but he didn't have to. Leonardo had enough suspicious anger for them all.

Leo believed with cold conviction, that Raphael had betrayed them. Don recalled quiet, angrily whispered conversations late at night as they sat nursing Michelangelo through another roaring fever. Leo was certain of only two options; Raph had either caused the truce to fail or been off sulking somewhere when the axe fell, and either reason was completely unacceptable. Don had slowly come to realise that it was easier for Leo to fixate on Raph's failure than to face his own demons. He had spent the last two years watching his older brother sink into bitterness, finding no peace, no clear direction except in the growing anger within. An anger that could find no outlet since the answers he sought lay with a brother who was probably dead. And there lay another reason for turmoil; to resent a brother you're not even sure still lives, for things he may not be guilty of. How to grieve, forgive or even understand with what little they knew? Thinking about it only took you down an agonising spiral of doubt and speculation and there were only two things waiting at the bottom; rage or grief.

Mikey refused to believe that Raph would abandon them for any reason, but his arguments fell on deaf ears. Neither of them could ever completely win the argument because none of them knew for sure what had happened. Don? He didn't know what to believe. Maybe if there was the slightest evidence of where Raph had been stealing away to in those final weeks...but there was nothing except the reality of that night. The raid had changed their lives forever. They were left to imagine what horrors or cowardice might have befallen Raphael and decide amongst themselves whether or not he had truly abandoned them.

Don's eyes swept the destruction, finally admitting to himself why he'd come. Some sign that Raphael had returned. A short, bitter laugh forced its way out and he clamped his teeth around any further lapses in rational behaviour. 

_Donatello, you're a fool._

The blood proved nothing and it would be a mistake to linger any longer if the clan was still actively checking these tunnels. Still, he didn't regret the risk. A part of him had needed this closure. He was tired of living in limbo, of waiting around for something in their lives to suddenly change for the better. Don wanted, needed to move forward. Looking around, he felt hot tears snake down his beak and finally let go of something dark in his heart. There was nothing here for any of them anymore. One phase of their lives had ended badly, but surely he could still find a way to move forward. Someone just had to take the first step and Don instinctively knew it would have to be him. He laughed again, pleased when this time it sounded more normal, not quite so bitter and hollow. He had always claimed he could fix anything, it was about time he started trying to fix his family.

'_A - Sntchoo!'_

Don's head snapped around in shock. Cursing his distraction, he moved towards the small sound, muscles coiled with tension. A tumble of junk amidst the debri caught his eye and he approached it swiftly, his feet silent as the drifting ash. He frowned as a small sniffle drifted up from the middle of the pile. It took Don a few shocked seconds to realise he was staring down into the watery eyes of a young boy.

He managed to blurt out a stupefied _ "Wha-?!!" _before stumbling back as the boy scrambled from his hiding place and wrapped himself around Don's plastron like a leech. He clung fiercely, his scrawny frame quivering all over in fear and relief, his soot-smudged face lined with tear tracks. He couldn't have been older than 8 years old.

Don reeled, trying to comprehend how a kid could end up 30 feet underground, in a tunnel where the entrance was both hidden and rusted almost shut. He bent down uncertainly and mumbled something he hoped was reassuring. This proved to be all the invitation required and before Don knew it, the boy was in his arms, clutching him around the neck with desperate strength. Don held him gently. When the shaking had finally settled enough, he gathered his wits.

"What's your name?" he asked gently, relieved that the boy couldn't possibly make out his true form in the pitch darkness.

The boy sniffed and rubbed red, exhausted eyes.

_"Charlie." _his voice was a harsh whisper.

"What are you doing down here?"

Charlie shivered violently and Don wrapped one of the tattered blankets around his shoulders.

"He said to wait. That he'd be back to get me."

Don frowned in confusion, noticing for the first time the large dark blotches across the boy's clothes that looked suspiciously like dried blood.

'_Who said to wait?'_

But Charlie was exhausted and unwilling to cooperate. He sniffled again and buried his face in Don's neck. Don was on the verge of asking him where his parents lived when he heard the noise. It was so soft he almost missed it, but it brought him back to the awareness of danger in an instant. Charlie clutched reflexively as Don's Bo whipped up from its resting place. Fingers tingling with adrenaline, heart pounding, he moved stealthily back to the tunnel entrance cradling the boy with one arm.

Don sank himself into the darkness and turned his every sense in the direction of the hatch. Slowly, a dark outline began to descend. Don detected heavy breathing, fumbled, clumsy movement. Whoever made their way down the ladder was badly injured and it seemed to take an eternity before he finally reached the bottom - slipping the last two rungs, catching himself with a jerk and gasp of agony. That's where Donmade his mistake. He was so intent on the intruder that he'd almost forgotten Charlie's silent presence. The boy suddenly squirmed free, running towards the figure, with a shout of relief.

Donatello started after him with a hiss of denial but staggered to a halt as the dark figure came into clear view. He was drenched in blood, glistening in the faint light filtering down from the tunnels above. He clung desperately to the ladder, leaning against the solid metal to support the weight he could no longer hold. Blood dripped sluggishly from a dozen different lacerations on arms and legs which trembled with weakness and were painfully thin. A filthy blood-clotted rag wrapped the left shoulder and Don could see light shining through a perfectly round hole in the edge of the shell above. Charlie wrapped his thin arms around the scarred plastron, oblivious to the smears it left on his pale skin.

As Don watched in disbelief, an unsteady green hand lifted to stroke the boy's head in the most tender, gentle gesture he had ever seen his brother bestow on anyone.

'_Raph?!!' _Don croaked.

Raphael looked up unsteadily, his movements slow and unfocused. Don flinched. One eye was sickly white and wept a yellow fluid, the other was clear, but glazed with fatigue. Pain and exhaustion had carved harsh lines into his brother's pale face, but it was the absence of all Raph's fiery spirit which shocked him. It was as if something had drained the very essence of his brother's_ being._

'_My God, Raph! What happened? Where have you been?' _he whispered, the raw power of his emotions threatening to strangle the words from his throat.

Raphael's eyes squeezed shut painfully, a shudder of pain rocked him.

Don rediscovered his body and stumbled closer, his mind reeling with a thousand questions all demanding to be asked at once! He'd dreamed of this moment in so many different ways but never like this. His brother was dying before his eyes!

_"Raph _-!?" he cried again, stricken.

Raphael's hand slipped on the ladder and he swayed dangerously. A bloodied, shredded hand reached out weakly and then his strength gave out.

Later, Don couldn't remember leaping forward, but somehow he caught his brother before he crashed to the ground. Don quickly bound one of the worst wounds with his own bandanna and clamped his hands over the ragged gunshot in Raph's shoulder his mind spinning in fear and panic. The blood burned as it seeped between his cold hands, trailing insidiously across his skin to add its own trickle to the growing puddle beneath them.

Kneeling there in the darkness, in a slushy puddle of blood and ash, his brother bleeding to death in the dirt and a boy named Charlie tugging hysterically on his arm, Don found all the doubts and anger buried beneath a fierce wave of love. Later there would be questions that needed answers, but whatever the past, for the first time in two years they were four once again.

As long as Don could keep it that way...


	3. Chapter 2

Hours later the night found Donatello slipping quietly through the darkness. His eyes probed the alleyways as he travelled, scanning the shadows warily. After two quiet years of rolling country fields and forest wilderness, the clutter of New York pressed in on his soul. The harsh, grating sounds of the city left him feeling uneasy and he avoided the bright pools of light where they gathered on the pavement, feeling exposed and vulnerable beneath their intense beams. In theory he had little need to fear since early morning had always been the safest time to roam the streets, especially during winter when people were more inclined to stay indoors and being muffled from head to toe drew less attention. Donatello found himself repeating these reliable facts to himself as he strode along, trying to ignore the prickles of nervous tension creeping across his neck. Danger hung in the air, the scent of Raphael's blood clinging to the plastron beneath his coat - grim reminder that for he and his family iit wasn't worth assuming you were safe. He only wished the trip wasn't necessary but he'd found April's phone still yet to be connected.

The phonebooth was like a beacon to Don's tired eyes, drawing him across the street into the light. He scanned the darkness once more before pushing into the frosty glass box, fumbling for change with fingers that were semi-numb. Through the course of the evening it had briefly occurred to Don that he may not be able to reach anyone - that he might have to handle getting Raph home by himself. He was hoping beyond hope for a lucky break.

"Hi, it's April. I'm not home at the moment, but lea-" --click--

"Yo! The Jones ain't home, so leave a message-"

Don hung up the phone, disappointment thick and bitter in his chest. April was probably still on her business trip in Canada. She was a week late, but since her promotion at the station her business trips were more frequent and quite often delayed. Casey could be anywhere. Don still wasn't sure why they'd broken up, he only knew they were drifting away just as Leo and Mikey were. Don felt the old stab of loss and quickly squelched it, turning back to the problem at hand.

_What now? The only way home is sneaking a ride or stealing a car_. Don sighed wearily, aware that both options required a significant degree of stealth and strength, virtues he was fast beginning to run out of.

'What other choices do I have_?_' He picked up the phone again. '_Will! _He and Mikey could come and pick us up.' He punched the number for home. Cold realisation, a hint of wretchedness and a busy signal had him slamming the phone back down moments later. There was only one person who'd be up surfing the dialup at four am. _Mikey_. Don shook his head in disbelief and leaned his aching temple against the glass.

Mikey had discovered utube and the endless matrix of free-streaming entertainment there. At first it was anything to distract himself from the pain. He couldn't sleep through the constant terrible pain of his burns unless he was utterly exhausted. Then there were the nightmares. Terrible nights where he woke up screaming as memories of fire seared him again. Or even worse, the nights where he woke up shrieking Raph's name, his whole body shaking with the force of his fear. Don didn't blame him for wanting to avoid sleep, his own dreams were frequently terrible but Mikey's seemed to be on a whole other scale. Unfortunately, the farmhouse wasn't equipped with the latest technology – broadband was a distant option so far from the city, which meant whenever Mikey was in a sleep-free zone the phonelines could be tied up for days. _Why didn't I organise some kind of cell system for each of us?_ He wondered belatedly.

Rarely had Don felt so frustratingly useless. Somehow he had to get them home and the very idea made him hang his head with fatigue. Just getting his brother out of the sewers had been difficult enough. It didn't matter that he'd lost a shocking amount of weight and muscle tone, Raph had always had the largest and heaviest frame of the four brothers and remained a substantial size despite the lost kilos. His muscles still ached and throbbed with the effort of hauling dead weight up ladders and through slippery tunnels. The ambiguous Charlie had stumbled along beside him the entire way, teeth clattering in the darkness, and hadn't spoken again. From the surface it was a short but incredibly difficult struggle up to April's new apartment block. At 1am, noone heard the soft metallic echoes as they clambered up the fire escape. Nor did they hear the muffled tinkle of breaking glass and the thunk of a shutting window.

April's new apartment - it was in the middle of renovations while she finished her business trip and further from the old subway than her previous place. Some of her things had been moved in, but it was still practically empty. Don had wrapped Charlie in the cleanest furniture sheets he could find and begun tearing others up for new bandages. If nothing else, at least it was warmer, dry and gave him some time to think.

Raph looked terrible. His skin was too pale and his body temperature so low he could almost be hibernating. The bullet-wound in his shoulder was at least a day old and the old rag placed over it to stop the bleeding had done more damage than good. Don could already feel the heat of infection around the ragged wound and it continued to ooze as it swelled. He strapped it up as best as he could. More worrying was a gut-churning puncture down in the plastron of his brother's abdomen surrounded with deep mottled bruising. It looked as if it had been made by something thick – not a blade. It bled sluggishly but Don was reluctant to apply much pressure to an injury that had probably caused significant internal damage.

Upon closer examination Don had found the majority of lacerations on Raph's arms and legs were superficial and stopped bleeding as soon as he bound them. The only one he couldn't do much about was a wicked slash across the upper thigh – dangerously close to his femoral artery. He tore strips from the sheets and bandaged it firmly, trying to stabilise the tissues and staunch the bleeding.

The eye was another matter altogether. Don could do little more than carefully clean away the pus. Splinter's abundant herbal knowledge might be able to do something, but Don couldn't see the eye ever being clear again. He'd also found evidence of old chemical burns, scarring around his wrists and a distinct line of cigarette burns along the collarbone. Don felt a renewed surge of distress at the memory and forced it down with gritted teeth. They'd spent the entire Sunday closeted in April's, resting and listening to their stomach's growl, and Raphael hadn't so much as twitched since collapsing. He turned back to the phone, suppressing an irrational urge to laugh bitterly at the situation.

"C'mon, Mikey. _Please_." He closed his eyes and tried not to think about the cold fact that Raph lay slowly dying while the world waited for Mikey to finish surfing MySpace.

**** **** ****

He wandered curiously through the soft white rooms with their plush carpets and thin, billowing curtains. Everything was white, like a cloud. Like an angel's home, Charlie thought, as he ran his sooty fingers across cool marble benchtops and watched the moonbeams as they shone through the fluttering curtains. The few pieces of furniture were shrouded in white sheets that seemed to glow in the moonlight. He walked slowly, wonderingly through the apartment, unwilling to turn the lights on and chase away the moonlight.

The living room had a distinctly darker atmosphere. There was a large, dark form lying in the middle of the floor. The white bandages seemed to glow too, except in the places where sinister stains had blotched through the material. Charlie sat down beside Raphael and studied the stains. They were much smaller than the last time Don had changed the bandages and he knew it was a good sign. He wanted Raph to wake up, but it was good that he had time to rest.

A sudden gust of icy wind sent goosebumps over his arms and legs. He got up to shut the window, being careful of the glass shards and paused to gaze out at the night. He stood at the window for long minutes, allowing the curtains to billow around him in a light, silky embrace. Teeth chattering, he stared at the glittering cityscape in fascination and then at the stars shining gaily from afar. It was beautiful. His memories of the stars were only vague impressions compared to the sparkling gems suspended above him. It had been a long time since he'd had a window to look out of and such a long time since he'd seen stars. He felt a moment's surprise that he could have forgotten something so lovely.

He was admiring the swirls of frosty mist his breath made when the van appeared at the end of the street. The fresh autumn night forgotten, Charlie watched with a tingle of apprehension as it cruised closer, an air of purpose about its approach. Even before the van had pulled up, Charlie knew. They had come. He turned with a frightened cry and ran back to Raphael. He grabbed one huge arm and tugged frantically.

"_Raph_! Wake up!! Wake up!! They're here!! WAKE UP!!" But Raphael did not respond, nor did he stir when Charlie pounded on the plastron as hard as he dared. Charlie dashed back to the window cradling his bruised hand and looked down, his heart in his mouth, as feet clanged on the fire escape below. Dark figures were climbing steadily towards the window. Moonlight glinted off the metal of their weapons and sent a thrill of fear down his spine. He pulled the window shut, locking it in a futile gesture and backed into the room half frozen with panic. He wouldn't go back! He wouldn't!!

When booted feet sounded in the hallway outside, Charlie snapped out of his frozen terror and leapt again for Raphael.

"They're COMING!!" He cried. As his small fingers made contact with the broad green shoulder, a jolt of pure force leapt from his hands. Charlie felt himself flung away like a rag and crashed into the corner of the room with shocking force. "R-Raph?" He wheezed, the breath knocked from his lungs. The front door crashed open and six intense red scope beams sliced through the darkness above his head. A handful of men poured into the room, their black suits stark against the white walls, visors glinting dully with malevolent purpose. Flashlights blinded him as they swept past, some lingering, most dismissing him in favour of the bigger prize to be had. As he blinked his eyes clear, Charlie could only watch dizzily as the night unfolded in destruction. The world seemed to be moving in slow motion and while the fear was still heavy in his chest, everything was happening so fast that confusion was all he could identify. Yet even through the confusion, he had enough wits to realise that Raphael was no longer lying prone and vulnerable in the middle of the room.

It was triggered by a scream. Short, sharp and terrible to hear. As the first man amongst them died, the others turned in unison towards the cry and swarmed through the apartment in search of their prey. Gunshots thundered deafeningly through the enclosed space, shouts rang out in anger and fear. Somewhere close by a man's scream faded into a terrible gurgling noise that seemed to last for an age. Two great crashes finally drowned him out and Charlie scrambled aside as a corpse came flying through the kitchen doorway to land in a broken heap nearby. There was a familiar snarl of rage from one of the bedrooms before something impacted and a man emerged stumbling and clawing at the knife in his throat taken from his own belt. His crimson blood splattered the room in a huge arc, painting the walls with death before he crashed to the ground. Footsteps pounded too or from the destruction as their courage permitted and then someone released the smoke grenade and the world became a swirling, coughing void of frightening sounds and vibrations.

Charlie scrambled away from his corner choking on smoke as gloved hands leapt through the mist, grabbing for his waist. The man was a crisscross of knives and guns, all strapped to his body with buckles and velcro. He might have felt confident in that gear, but in reality he was a walking buffet for his own death sentence. Charlie watched with wide-eyed detachment as Raphael, dripping with blood and sweat and pain, loomed out of the smoke behind him and slipped one of those blades from the man's belt. His face was twisted with rage so intense it left no room for anything but pure animal reaction. To endure or die, except for one thought that could only be human. _Revenge._ There was a terrible crunch as Raph jerked the helmet to one side and drove the blade through into the man's neck. His prey spasmed in shock and agony as the blade ripped out his throat. His fingers clenched around the automatic sending an explosion of bullets ripping through the floor and up past Charlie's head with deafening fury. Charlie curled into a ball on the floor and stuffed his fingers in his ears, but he couldn't block out the sounds of further struggle and the huge smash as something went crashing through a window with a bloodcurdling shriek.

When finally there was silence, he forced himself to crack open an eyelid and sat up carefully. He was covered in plaster dust. Through the smoke and the random beams of dropped torches, the room … was no longer white. He gazed around, wide-eyed and shivering. An Angel would never live here now. There were bodies, and … bits … of things. The walls were lined with diseased-looking scars made by bullet trails and the bloodied smears of the dead. There were two huge dents in living room wall where bodies had crashed into the walls and guns, glass, plaster and empty shells lay everywhere. Charlie felt his stomach go queasy and was glad the torchlights didn't reveal more.

A faint smash echoing down from the rooftop roused him from the appalling scene. Sirens wailed somewhere close, and Charlie sensed that here was another sort of enemy. Wincing from his abrupt introduction to the wall, he picked himself up and carefully made his way to the window being careful not to step on anything … or anyone. Stiff muscled and feeling strangely numb he climbed out onto the fire escape and headed up to where he knew he would find Raph.

**** **** ****

Don slammed the phone back into its cradle, brimming with anger and frustration. He'd waited half an hour for the line to clear and he couldn't afford to wait any longer. He had to get Raph home where there was safety, food and the medical supplies to do more. He would manage, he had to. He pushed out of the booth feeling sluggish from the cold. His breath escaping in frosty white clouds. The dropping temperature was taking its toll on his body, chilling his blood and sapping his strength. He was also in desperate need of some sleep, but rest would have to wait.

He was turning back down the street when the first faint stirrings of impending disaster drifted to his sharp senses. He paused to identify the sudden change in the air. _Sirens_, he noted uneasily. Getting closer, faster than he liked. He strode off down the street in a hurry, uncomfortably aware of the rising volume in the wailing notes. It was as he turned the corner that cold realisation struck him. He had been gone for far too long.

The black van parked opposite April's building was nondescript but for the numerous armed figures behind the wheel and those blocking the exits. _Raphael_. Who else would they have come for? The faint echo of guns reached his ears as he sprinted. His heart pounded fiercely, forcing blood to pump through sluggish limbs and invigorate stiff muscles. He approached the van. Two in the front, one guarding the rear doors. Two men beyond at the fire escape, another two at the main doors. The shattering of glass accompanied by an ear-splitting shriek of terror echoed overhead and Don dived aside seconds before a nearby car exploded with a deafening crash. Glass and metal went flying wildly across the street and Don leapt up, glass raining from his hat, whirling out of view as the men turned to look. A quick glance revealed the corpse still twitching grotesquely on the mangled car bonnet. He ignored it and slipped through shadow to the rear of the van. The guard collapsed in a limp heap, his neck broken. Don left the body where it was and circled back for the drivers. Their conversation drifted through the glass.

"_Jesus_ – listen to those guns. They've botched it."

"You know how it goes. If they're not out in five minutes, we leave."

"Barras won't be happy. This was supposed to be a quiet job."

"You don't send 13 men into an apartment block with guns and grenades and expect it to be a 'quiet' job."

"He's a crazy fuck if you ask me."

"Just watch he doesn't hear you say it."

A derisive snort. "He'd probably take it as a compliment-"

Don jerked the front door open and smashed his fist into the driver's temple. The passenger swore and levelled his gun only to drop the heavy weapon as Don's hand wrapped itself around his wrist, the cracking of bone audible over his agonised gasp. With a heave Don yanked the struggling man down and smashed his forehead into the dash. When both men were propped back up in their seats, lolling at awkward angles, he peered around the edge of the van. By now the sirens were so loud Don could barely hear anything else. Both guards had moved back into the shadows as frightened people began pouring out of the main entrances, dressing gowns flapping around their legs, panic and confusion written on their faces as they tried to escape the sounds of gunfire and dying men echoing through their apartments. Don gritted his teeth and sprang into the open.

He pounded past people too cold and frightened to do more than glance at his bulky form and was grateful for the cover their numbers gave him. The guards gave startled exclamations as he charged them out of the crowd and immediately fired. Don hated guns. The blade at least required skill to wield - automatics just needed a trigger happy fool. Screams rang out as people fled in panic from the shots that erupted among them. Bullets whizzed past Don's head and tore through his cloak. He ignored the sudden intense stab of pain in his thigh and descended upon them, Bo whirling up and out in a blur of motion, smashing hands and sending weapons flying. He trampled through them, turning to deal swift, stunning blows before they could recover. He took the stairs four at a time, racing up six flights to the smashed in window.

If Don hadn't already retreated behind the hardened mentality of the warrior, he might have lost his stomach at the scene inside April's apartment. One grim, professional glance told him all he needed to know. He glanced over the fire escape. Cop cars were surrounding the building. People continued to emerge, in ragged, terrified groups to break for the safety in the barrier of flashing cars and guns. Noone could have slept through the carnage taking place in April's. It was a wonder the police hadn't arrived sooner. Don began leaping stairs again, grimly aware that the situation couldn't possibly be much worse.

There was no time for subtlety. He converged on the guards at the head of the stairs with a single scything crack of his Bo and unceremoniously kicked their bodies aside ascending cautiously to the roof. A young boy's cry drew his eyes to the far side of the roof where Raphael knelt on hands and knees, covered in blood, two feathered syringes hanging from one arm. Three guards, guns levelled at Raph stood around a handheld radio system that crackled loudly. One of them shrugged impatiently.

"The choppers on its way but we're screwed anyway. The cops will get here before it arrives." The owner of the radio grunted.

"It doesn't matter, Barras was expecting this. He'll delay things long enough to get it loaded."

Charlie was struggling, rage and fear on his small face as he pulled at the arm gripping a handful of his sandy brown hair. He kicked the shin of his captor and the man cursed, tossing him roughly aside. Charlie sprawled in a painful, scratched heap and looked up.

"Don!"

All three guns turned and Don knew he was in trouble. He glanced around the roof. No real cover just the elevator shaft and a satellite dish. He was a sitting turtle.

"Holy shit! It's another one of the bloody things!"

Don glanced down sharply. His coat had picked up numerous tears since exiting the phone booth. His hat was gone. Don felt himself descend into a very calm, calculating state of mental awareness. They would have to die.

While the radio guard kept his gun pointed on Raphael, the other two trained their weapons on Don's midriff and approached cautiously. They misjudged his range. His Bo stabbed out and caught one man under the chin with a solid crack, breaking bone. Don spun in a blur and leapt at his partner, shouldering the gun aside. A resounding crack against the edge of his carapace and a chip went flying off. He rolled forward with the leap and deliberately smashed the fragile skull down against the concrete as they fell, ignoring the muffled thwack and the warm splatter of blood against his face. He rolled to his feet and whirled to face the first man, who was still picking himself up, shattered visor tossed aside, gun in hand. A cry from Charlie and a quick glance alerted Don to the danger. He flipped and dodged a spray of bullets as Raphael's guard joined the fight.

"Jesus! He killed Reece!" The first managed to get out, his face pasty white with pain.

"Shut up! You want to be dead too?! Don't take your eyes off it!" Radio man snarled.

They converged on him from both sides, one clutching his fractured jaw and drooling blood, the other loading what looked like tranquilliser darts. Don didn't give him time to finish loading. He pulled three shuriken from his belt and they flashed from his hands to their targets like rays of light. Drooling man stiffened, two neat slices in his black jacket and toppled, spasming briefly before going limp. His partner clutched his shoulder with a cry of pain and pulled the trigger. Don whirled aside, felt the sharp sting of the dart as it glanced off his arm. _Close._

Charlie looked around wildly for something to help Don. His eyes alighted on Raphael sagged painfully on the freezing cement, he'd managed to pull the darts from his arm before collapsing. Charlie scrambled across to the two vials and grabbed one still dripping fluorescent blue fluid. The Enemy didn't hear Charlie's soft sneakers running up behind him. Consumed with rage and his own pain, he stood exposed to the threat of assault from the rear. His prey lay drugged, his secondary captive was a mere child, how could he possibly have suspected the immensity of his mistake? Charlie raised his small arm and stabbed the man in the leg, punching down hard to breach tough fabric. His victim jerked with a muffled yelp and in the act of turning collapsed in a heap, dead before he'd hit the ground. Charlie dropped the syringe gingerly and met Don's troubled eyes. They stood that way for a quiet moment and then they were once more on the move.

Don staggered over to Raphael feeling heavy and disorientated, and wrapped an arm around his neck. Together they stumbled across the roof. Charlie roused himself and ran up behind them, pointing to the elevator maintenance shaft.

"In here!! They won't look here!" He said, running up to the door. Don stared at him dubiously, fighting to stay alert.

"Not until tomorrow." The small boy insisted.

Don looked across the roof. The next buildings were too far away to jump to dragging Raph's dead weight and there wasn't enough time for anything else. No choice. The door flew open with a sharp kick. He half dragged Raph through the opening and carefully leant his brother against the wall. Charlie huddled nearby, his green eyes luminous in the dark and strangely reassuring.

One last thing. Don slipped back out and managed to ply the shuriken from their hosts and pocket the good-sized chip from his shell. Then he slid back down three flights of stairs and broke into one of the apartments. Quick rummaging produced two blankets, antiseptic, cheese and bread which he stuffing into a pillowcase. Necessity gave him speed and he was back in their cave-like shelter within minutes, using his Bo to wedge the door tightly shut.

Raphael was slumped in the corner when he returned and Don checked his pulse, heart in mouth to find it weak, but present. He tore up the pillowcase and cleaned off as much of the blood as he could, hoping it was mostly human. He spritzed re-opened wounds with antiseptic spray and retied the bandages hoping it was enough to stave off infection. He covered his brother with a blanket and turned to Charlie who sat silently as Don cleaned his scratches. Huddled into a blanket with some cheese and bread they listened to the sirens outside together. Don blinked heavily but shrugged off the effects of the sedative, unwilling to succumb to sleep with the danger so close. A part of him worried that if this was how a scratch made him feel, then how long would Raph last against two full doses of the stuff? He gritted his teeth and bound the bullet graze on his thigh to keep himself awake. It helped in cruel fashion.

A chopper landed on the roof and thrummed there for a minute before lifting off again. Police clanged up the fire escape and pounded across the rooftop, yelling to each other as they searched the scene. There was a tense moment when the door handle rattled and Don got ready to defend the doorway, but the officer merely gave the door a few solid tugs and called back to his superior that it was secure.

While Don watched over his sleeping charges the police carried on their investigations. The area was evacuated, bodies were carted away and citizens transported to the station for statements. Although he tensed with fear every time he heard men approach, as Charlie had said, they made no serious attempts to open the shaft door and concentrated themselves around the more obvious victim sites. Four gut-churning hours later the sounds of activity began to fade and Don allowed himself to eat some of the food he'd taken and attempt to rest. They couldn't move until night fell again so he wrapped himself in his tattered coat and slipped into a fitful doze, the question of how he was going to get them all home in one piece weighing restlessly on his mind.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Charlie shifted uncomfortably. The truck was cold and the floor hard. Icy air kept darting beneath his blanket to steal what warmth he'd managed to find and the shaking of the huge semi threatened to rattle the teeth from his jaw. Despite all this, he'd managed to catch a few hours of sleep. Now the roaring of the truck intruded on any attempts to fall doze off again. After a few more minutes he gave up and sat up stiffly.

The truck had been a godsend. In the gritty hours before dawn Don had led them, half-dragging, half carrying Raphael back down into the sewers and across town. When they'd emerged near the petrol station, once again freezing and bedraggled, the truck had been pulling up in the carpark. The insane dash from the cover of the garbage bins to the back of the rig had been some of the scariest moments of Charlie's life. Don's exhaustion had been evident as he yanked at the knotted rope fastening down the canvas. They had escaped discovery by moments as Don frantically lifted Charlie through the opening and heaved Raphael's awkward bulk through afterwards. He'd hauled himself through the tight gap and seconds later the trucks owner had turned to truck back to roaring life and taken off. They'd lain Raphael down, covered him with one of their two scant blankets then collapsed in relief and exhaustion as the truck slid onto the highway and the journey began.

Charlie looked across at Raphael. His fever was growing. Charlie could feel the onset of a nightmare in the twisted images of his mind. Fragments of the past sharp with terror and remembered pain. Charlie reached out and gently touched his big friends arm, feeling the waves of unnatural heat and pain radiating from every aching wound and joint. The intensity of it shocked the rest of his sleepiness away and he snatched his hand back. He rubbed his fingers and glanced over to the far shadows. Don was hunched in a corner having finally given into exhaustion and _his_ dreams were equally disturbing. Between the two of them Charlie began to feel increasingly unwell.

Charlie got up carefully and stretched aching legs.

"!!"

The soft, but unmistakable sound of music drifted through the rattling compartment and Charlie clambered up the side of a crate smelling like apples. A narrow window connected the driver's compartment to the back of the truck and the faint strains of an extremely loud, male baritone rumbled through the glass. Intrigued Charlie braved the splinters and crawled across the top of each crate of fruit to the window and peeked in. A burly looking man sat singing to himself and the radio. He was so caught up in the music he barely seemed aware of the road itself. Big thick arms with meaty fingers gesticulated wildly in turn as he conducted the music. Charlie grinned despite himself. The man had good feelings coming from him in soothing waves. It was irresistible. With numb fingers, Charlie reached for the latch of the little window …

**** **** ****

Bill Walters liked to think he was a hard-working, simple man. He was good to his wife and took his kids to the park on weekends. He also worked hard for a living, which meant that most of his life was spent in his truck. He carted goods from state to state in runs that sometimes took days. Last week was tinned fish, tonight it was apples and next week's schedule was for a shipment of "sanitary napkins". Truth be told, Bill wasn't looking forward to next week.

As all truckers knew, sitting at the wheel for hours on end could do strange things to a man's head. Sometimes he could get hypnotised by the lines on the road and end up driving into the oncoming traffic, and at others, the growl of the engine could lull him to sleep going 110k's an hour and more. In such respects it was a dangerous occupation, but Bill liked to think he had himself covered. With the radio up full bore and the excellent company of his own voice to keep him alert Bill had yet to experience any life-threatening incidents of any sort (Much to his family's relief).

In the end, his first experience with a hallucination didn't surprise him as much as it should have, that is, when he looked across and noticed Charlie sitting in the passenger seat.

"What the hell?" he muttered incredulously. He blinked his eyes a few times and finally pinched himself for good measure. Convinced he wasn't falling asleep at the wheel, Bill peered at the child from the between glances at the road.

"Where the hell did you pop up from?" He demanded, flipping the cd off.

Charlie smiled benignly and did up his seatbelt.

Bill nettled. "Now don't get too comfortable, kid. I want to know your name and how you got into my truck!?"

"Charlie." Charlie replied softly. He glanced about the small compartment and lit upon a photo stuck to the dash board. He pointed at the little boy there in querie. Bill couldn't remember being quite so befuddled. Then the possible consequences hit him.

"Gods! Kidnapping!" He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise a few millimeters as the possibilities flashed through his mind and was still absorbing his predicament when Charlie pointed at the picture again.

"Eh? That's my son, Damien – about your age." Charlie nodded and Bill felt inexplicably pleased and distracted by the boy's apparent interest. He suddenly felt the need to elaborate and 'Charlie' seemed quite willing to listen as Bill began to talk about his son. In fact, the more Bill began to talk about Damien, the harder it was to stop. Thoughts of kidnapping and being fired fogged over and evaporated from his train of thought. He spoke of Damien's love of soccer in the park, his promising good looks and how proud he was of his grades.

Charlie looked out the window all the while, watching the world fly past, feeling the danger being left behind, and smiled encouragingly at Bill whenever he seemed to require a prod. Bill kept it up, completely unaware of his sudden obsession with his son. The trip blurred until it seemed he had been talking for minutes, not hours, and at times it seemed that Damien was in the seat beside him and not the strange little boy called Charlie. Finally he was unable to tell the difference and it was obvious to Bill that his son had slipped into the truck to spend some extra time with his Dad.

Bill grinned at his son and didn't notice that he seemed unusually quiet or that his hair was not its usual dark brown, or his eyes hazel.

"I understand boy, you wanted to spend some real time with your dad. Well, we'll let it go just this once and then no more side trips, eh? Your mother will be hysterical by the time we get through Hampton."

Charlie settled down comfortably with the heater vent pointed on him and Bill began to recall the time Damien had broken his leg at soccer. And so it went.

**** **** ****

Don awoke gradually with the unsettling feeling that something wasn't right. His eyes snapped open suddenly and he looked at his watch with heart pounding. He had to get them off the truck 4 hours from when they'd started or they'd be too close to the farm or too far away. He had ten minutes to spare and sighed painfully, disgusted with himself for drifting off. Don slowly stretched and found himself horribly stiff and bruised after the long, cold trip. As his eyes adjusted, he made his way over to Raphael.

Sweat dripped from his brothers brow, his skin was feverishly hot. Too hot for a human and far too hot for a mutant turtle. His muscles twitched and his eyes flickered in ill dreams. Don checked the gunshot wound and found it oozing slowly, the infection worse.

"Raph, you've got to wake up now. Raph?" But there was no rousing him. Then he realised something. Charlie! Where was Charlie?! Sounds from the compartment reached him. With dread and disbelief in his heart Don hitched himself over the top of the crates, wincing as the top of his shell clanked against the roof and his bruised plastron scraped across wood. He made his way over to the window that connected the two sections of truck and peered through the fogged glass. Charlie waved from the passenger seat. Don's jaw dropped. What else could possibly happen?? He gestured sharply through the glass. _Going! Now!_ Charlie nodded solemnly and Don slid back from the window, too bone-tired to spend energy figuring out how the boy had slipped into the drivers cab with so little fuss. He only hoped that he could accomplish an exit with as little notice. He was in luck.

Bill had been feeling fine when all of a sudden he needed to pee. Damien tugged on his arm. "Bathroom." He pleaded. Bill shifted uncomfortably as his bladder stretched and grumbled.

"Y'know son, I could do with a pee stop too." He considered waiting for the next gas station – it was only a few minutes away, but his bladder cramped suddenly and he clenched his muscles to prevent an embarrassing leak. "We'll just have to get in touch with nature." He hastily unsnapped his belt with one hand to relieve some of the pressure.

They rumbled to a noisy stop at the side of the highway, hazard lights flashing. Bill clambered down and almost tripped over his pants in his haste to relieve himself. The relief was exquisite though the amount was surprisingly little. He frowned as he got back behind the wheel and wondered if he were getting some kind of bladder infection. He started the truck back up and was about to pull back onto the road when the vague feeling that he'd forgotten something made him pause. But no. That was stupid since he'd noone to transport but himself and the stuff in his truck. He shook his head and muttered to himself about getting more sleep, then he pulled back onto the road, cranked the radio and rumbled away, his voice inexplicably hoarse.

**** **** ****

Mike barely noticed the door creak slowly open. Will hesitated in the doorway and wished himself elsewhere. "Leo's still not back?" He asked uncomfortably.

Mike nodded absently, remembering.

'_I'm going out for a few days Mike. I need some time alone for awhile. To think._' The next day he was gone. Mike understood. Leo was lost and afraid of what they had become, of what the future might hold. If there _was_ a future. For two years they'd all existed in a kind of limbo, waiting for something to change. For Raph to show up and everything to go back to normal – or at least as normal as it could be. They had been trying to hold themselves together for so long but nothing seemed to get any easier. Splinter had gone, vanished on a solitary trip. Of seeking, or healing. Mike didn't know, but again, he understood. Splinter had lost a son and a part of his body – there was pain yet to be cleansed and peace to be found if he was to nurture healing in his small family. But Leo didn't understand. How could his father leave when they were still so lost? So now it was just Will and Mike and the ghosts of the past in the farmhouse.

Maybe Leo would find some peace, some healing. Maybe even enough to share. He began to type again, filling in the blank void of digital paper with words and sentences and …. Maybe if he typed enough, the words would fill in the same blankness in his heart. Once there had been so much laughter there. Now he felt hollow. So much had been lost and nothing had come to balance the loss except more pain. Pain and the endless nights where no sleep could be found.

"When do you think he'll be back?" Wills voice jolted Mikey from his thoughts. Thick fingers paused on the keyboard. He sighed softly to himself and scanned what he had written. He didn't want to worry anymore, the past only made his scars ache and his eyes burn as if he hadn't slept in a lifetime.

"When he's ready." His soft, gravelled voice was still rough after breathing the searing heat and smoke from the fires.

Will shifted uneasily, hating the listlessness in Mike's voice. Hating the fog of pain that hung around his friend in a tangible blanket. And most of all, hating himself. With a fierce passion. For his lies and his cowardice and everything about the whole wretched situation. Grimacing slightly, he pushed such thoughts aside and forged ahead once more. He owed it to Raphael to at least try.

"Don should have been back yesterday."

Mike paused and a small frown tugged at the scars.

"Don?" Had it been 3 days already? He had eaten twice but couldn't remember having slept more than a few hours. He stared at the monitor, troubled, then shrugged awkwardly, scars tugging. Don was on a journey of his own and Mike didn't have the energy to worry anymore. Raph was gone and nothing would ever be the same again.

Will watched as the troubled light in Mike's eyes dimmed and his attention swerved back to the computer monitor. He had forgotten Will's presence. More and more lately Mike lost himself in his words and the glare of the screen. Will didn't know what he wrote and wasn't sure he'd want to read it. He did know that Mike had lost himself in losing his family. In his own way he was fading away, just as Leo was becoming more reserved and distant and Don was spending more time alone. It was a slow, but sure death for them all. They needed each other. He turned and walked back down the hall, the guilt eating him up inside.

**** **** ****

Three hours later Michaelangelo stopped suddenly. Without quite knowing why he saved his work, switched off the monitor and stood up, his knees weak from being in the same position for too long. Frowning, he walked slowly down the hall and picked up the Bo that served as weapon and walking aid now. Then he turned and walked out onto the verandah. It occurred to him that he hadn't been outside for a long time. The night was crisp with glittering frost and stars, and the breeze took his breath away.

He limped down the stairs and hopped awkwardly across slushy puddles in order to get a better look at the sky. He noted the huge cloud bank moving in from the west, slowly consuming the constellations in its advance. There would be more snow. A lot more snow. He wondered where Leo was, if he had found signs of Splinter, and hoped there was some form of shelter nearby for the both of them. And Don … Mike frowned uneasily and shivered, noticing that his feet were beginning to ache fiercely with the cold. Don should be back soon. It occurred to him suddenly that _should be_ didn't necessarily mean _would be _... What if? He shook himself and rubbed cold fingers over his tender scars as if to wipe the thought away. Turning his back on the 'what ifs' of the night Mike limped back into the house, shutting the door firmly against the nagging unease. He slumped down on the sofa in the study, next to the still-humming computer, and slipped into a restless doze.

Somewhere not too far away, two members of his family and one scrawny little boy struggled to reach him before the storm struck.

**** **** ****

Leonardo stood on the verge of the falls. His toes were curled around the lip of the huge flat rock in the centre of the water, a position that jutted out into the space above the 20m drop. His eyes were closed, legs held slightly apart, arms relaxed at his sides as the moon glinted off his carapace and the water surged around him, hurtling out into space to crash into the pool below. The rushing water drew his thoughts along with the current, making it difficult to focus on anything other than the power in the surging, heaving element. The more distant pounding of the water on rocks below was a focus in the rush of noise as he attempted to centre himself and find some peace.

It was dangerous to surround himself with such noise deliberately, especially alone in the woods. The constant rush of the water drowned out sounds that might prove his death. A snapped twig. The click of a safety. But for once, Leonardo had thrown caution to the wind. He didn't want to think about what might be creeping up on him in this beautiful place. He let the water sweep up his thoughts and imagined them hurled down the sheer void at his toes and pounded into silence on the rocks. His breath rolled around him in white clouds, his toes felt almost numb from the icy spray that constantly kissed them. The moon hung huge and bright above him, fading as the brewing snowstorm drew closer.

He knew that it could take people a long time to recover from losing a family member and dealing with the kind of trauma they'd experienced, but it had been two years now... two long bleak years and if something didn't change soon ... Leonardo was tired. He longed to hear Splinter's calm voice, the words of wisdom that always helped him to focus. For three days he'd searched without finding a single trace to indicate what direction his master had gone. It was clear that he didn't want to be found. Soon he'd have to go back – before the snow got too thick. Mike needed to be watched to make sure he ate and slept regularly. Don got so intent on his projects he wouldn't train or even leave the house for weeks if left to himself. He longed for the way things used to be.

He ached for something, a release, he didn't know what - only that it gnawed at him day and night - a burden that he couldn't define. He felt that heaviness now, as one might feel an injury to measure the damage. How do you fix something within yourself when you don't know exactly what's broken? And that's how he felt. Broken and defeated by the events of the last two years. Unable to save a self-destuctive brother from himself, unable to protect his father and brothers from the enemy and unable to do anything to ease their pain, physical and emotional. He felt helpless, useless. A failure.

He released a bitter sigh and turned his attention a memory from long ago. A memory of this place. Raphael standing in this very spot where Leonardo stood now, peering over the precipice his dark gaze tracking the fall of the water to the rocks below. _Dude, be careful! _Mike calling nervously from the bottom - his voice barely audible above the torrent. It was a summer day, hot and hazy, the heat shimmering around them. The water looked cool and inviting but Leonardo had watched uneasily as Raph grinned at Mike and leaned out farther.

_Raph …_ he started uneasily. _C'mon, lets climb down and have a swim. It's too high to jump._

Raphael almost seemed not to hear him, but his head tilted slightly in acknowledgment. It was a small movement, but it only made Leo edgier. He knew his brother too well. Finally Raph moved away from the ledge. A challenging grin flashed across his face.

_We'll never see things the same way, Leo. _Then, with a roar, Raph had sprinted for the edge and taken a diving leap from the rock.

_NO!_

Leo could still hear Mike and Don's cries echoing against the cliffs. Leo had reached the edge in time to see Raph hit the water with an explosive splash and wait, heart pounding wildly in dread and fury, the long seconds it took his brother to surface, winded, bruised, head ringing, but whooping with triumphant adrenaline. Leo had stalked down the cliff, glad he couldn't hear Don and Mike praising Raph's reckless and stupid act of bravery over the rush of the waterfall. And worse had been the nagging self-doubt - that he hadn't had the guts to meet Raph's challenge and take the plunge himself, even though it was a foolish risk to take.

Fearless leader. Those words had ground on his nerves so many times in the past. There had been many times when Leo _had _felt fear and Raphael had seemed the fearless one, always so quick to take the dangerous path, the risky chances - the plunge off the cliff. If only Raph knew how he felt now. How he'd felt as the foot poured into the sewers, setting fires, swords flashing as if they were in the middle of a lighting storm. But Raph didn't know. Would never know. His brother hadn't been there.

Leo felt the anger rising afresh. The rage, the betrayal. Where had Raphael been when the foot was burning their home? Where had Raph been while he and Don were staggering through the sewers, desperately trying to save Splinter's life and keep Mike conscious long enough to escape? Where had Raph been all those long months, when the burns had driven Mike almost mad with agony and there had been nothing Leo or Don could do? Leo felt himself quivering with the rage, the pain. He was almost sure that Raphael was dead by now. A part of him couldn't help but hope it was so, because if he ever returned after leaving them all to die, Leo was afraid he'd lose control. He clenched his fists. There was a debt of blood to be paid.

The first soft snow started to fall.

**** **** ****

Karai flipped open her buzzing cellphone.

'Hai?'

'Karai? This is Barras. I have a problem I need you to deal with and it's a matter of extreme urgency.' Barras sounded extremely agitated. Karai had come to dislike the man intensely over the last two years, but one didn't mix clan business with personal preference.

'How can the clan be of service to you?'

'Unfortunately, I've had a breakout at the maximum security facility downtown. It's an old friend of yours... the turtle, and he's taken one of my most promising research subjects with him.'

Karai scowled. The fool. He was so arrogant. She'd told him how lax his security was getting barely a month ago. But then, on a deeper level, Barras still thought Raphael was a stupid animal, not the dangerous and cunning creature he truly was.

'You wish me to retrieve him for you.'

'Obviously.' He snapped. Karai's expression darkened and the lieutenant standing next to her backed away subtly. 'Lab security tracked him to a building on the west side but they made a mess of it. I've got about 15 men bodybagged at the scene and the signals on the move again. I would send in a chopper team but I don't want a repeat incident.'

_Incompetent fools_. 'I see. You should have called me earlier Professor, the clan and I could have saved you much trouble.'

Barras anger was barely held in check. 'Well I'm calling you _now_! I can't afford to lose either of them Karai, but especially the turtle – he's been responsible for several new directions in my research and I still need his blood and tissues to continue the experiments. I have contracts with the military riding on this.'

'I will send a ninja to pick up one of your mobile tracking devices and organise a team.' She smirked. 'Of course, though the Foot considers you one of our most valuable clients, this extra service will not come cheaply.'

'I don't care about the cost, Karai. Just find them!' Barras ground out in fury.

Karai smiled to herself and hung up on him.

'Tenshu! Organise our best team, we must move fast!' Her lieutenant nodded once and vanished. Karai drew the gleaming katana at her side, checked the edge of the blade and let it slide back into its sheath with a soft hiss of steel. There was a chance Raphael had managed to meet up with his family, and if that was the case re-capturing him would be more difficult than Barras could possibly imagine. More importantly, if Raphael led them back to the den of his freakish family it would be an opportunity to wipe them out once and for all. Although ... it might also be more lucrative to sell them off to Barras. The whole big happy family together at last. Karai's smile was laced with malice. She was ready for another showdown. It had really been too long.


	5. Chapter 4

The snow swirled. Don gasped in a breath and spat out icy flakes. Raphael was a dead weight at his side, his body burning with fever despite the whipping wind. Don wasn't sure if he was still unconscious from the darts he'd taken or from his wounds, but either, way it wasn't a good sign. Charlie struggled along behind him wrapped in the thin blanket, trying to shelter from the worst of the heavy, wet snow. Don knew he must be freezing but there was nothing he could do except get them to shelter. He was at the end of his rope. It was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other as he dragged Raph through the deepening snow. Light glimmered from between the trees ahead and he lurched forward in anticipation of safety. _Finally! The farmhouse._

They staggered up the front steps, crashing against the wall as Don tried to steady them and get the door open. Charlie grabbed it from his numb hands and they all but fell through the opening into a welcoming wave of warmth and light. The wind snatch the door shut behind them with a crash. Don staggered the last few steps to an old armchair and with a groan of relief slipped Raph's dead weight into it. He was panting with exertion but still felt frozen to the bone.

'Jesus!' Will stood in the open doorway, staring in horror. 'What the hell!? Raph?!! Is he alive?!'

Don grimaced. 'Get Mikey! Hurry!' With a grunt he hauled Raph back up again and made for the stairs. 'We'll need medical supplies, bandages, towels...' he threw over one shoulder. They staggered up the stairs. He dragged Raphael into the shower, turning the heat on and blasting them both with freezing water that stole his breath away before the heat reluctantly came through. He felt somewhat revived as the hot water sluiced across his aching shoulders. Delicious warmth curled slowly through his numb hands and feet and Don gently tugged the chattering blue-lipped little boy in under the steaming warmth with them. They were almost thawed by the time Will returned.

Don passed Charlie out to him. 'Dry him off and put him somewhere to sleep.' Will nodded mutely, almost unable to drag his eyes away from Raphael's limp form and led the stumbling boy away, swaddled in towels.

It was cramped but Don crouched and began to peel off the dirty bandages, allowing the water to wash over the ragged wounds and clean some of the crusted blood and dirt away. The water ran deep, dark red around his feet.

'Raph?!!! No ...! It can't be....! 'Mikey stood in the doorway, holding the first aid box in front of him like a shield, his eyes wide with horror. 'Don-?!' Mikey looked so frightened and vulnerable Don's heart clenched. He met his brothers blue eyes helplessly.

'I'm sorry Mikey, I found him -but ... ' Raph looked somehow worse than when Don had first found him. Propped bonelessly against the shower wall, water swirling scarlet across the ridges of his plastron, their big brother had never looked so helpless in his life. Don felt grief tighten his throat and rubbed at the grime on Raph's face gently.

'I did what I could –but, he's lost alot of blood'. His voice cracked. 'He's dying, Mikey.'

Mikey moved with more speed than Don had seen him muster in months. He shut off the water and knelt by Raph's side, opening his lids to examine the sluggish pupils, feeling his pulse, his temperature. Don heard him suck a tight breath of horror when he got a good look Raph's torn plastron.

'Let's get him dry and onto a bed.' His voice was raw. Together they grabbed arms and legs and carried him as gently as possible to a room with two single beds. The hot water and movement had caused some of the deeper cuts to reopen and Mikey all but dumped the contents of the first aid kit on the bed in his haste. Between the two of them they had each trickling wound cleaned and firmly bandaged quickly. Don felt his eyes blurring and found Mike staring at him once he refocused.

'Sit down Donny, you've done enough, I'll handle things for now.' Don slumped down on the other bed to watch, head swimming as Mikey began digging around in Raph's shoulder looking for the bullet still sunk inside. Don knew he'd found it from the muttered 'Gotcha' and the slight clink as metal dropped into a dish. He must have accidentally dozed off against the wall for when he focused next, Raphael was propped up with pillows, his eye patched over. Mikey was perched next to him with his head in his hands.

Don shot off the bed, 'He's not-?!'

Michelangelo shook his head and smiled weakly. 'He's still alive.' They stared at each other, both recognising the fear in each other's eyes – to gain their brother back after so long only to possibly lose him again within the hour. He stood up and dumped the bloodied bandages and wipes into a plastic bag and sank down next to Don on the bed.

'Tell me what happened, Donnie.'

Don drew a slow breath and they sat and watched the faint rise and fall of Raph's chest.

'I went to the subway. I wasn't expecting to find anything, but ...Charlie was hiding in the mess and then Raph turned up looking like this. They're connected somehow, Raph was protecting him but I don't know why. There's something really odd about him but nothing I can explain just yet.' He shook his head.

'Did - Did he say where he's been all this time?' Mike sounded strained.

Don shook his head. 'He's been unconscious for most of the last three days. Mikey this is bad. He's being hunted. I don't know who they are yet, but they tracked us down to April's building. I dragged Raph up there to get us out of the cold and use the phone.' He drew a deep breath, remembering. 'It was ... horrible. They had guns, choppers, tranquilisers - I almost lost him again. They were up on the roof calling in backup and he had two darts in his arm. I don't even know how he's still alive after a dose like that Mikey - they only managed to nick me and I could barely stay awake. One _drop _of it killed a soldier stone dead in seconds ....' He rubbed the small cut on his upper arm gingerly. 'These people mean business. We _need_ to find Leo and Splinter.' Mikey absorbed all this in silence. Don knew he was still in shock. He was still in shock himself and he'd had almost three days to absorb the situation.

'Are you ok, Don?' Mikey's words were soft. Donatello sighed. Mike knew how he felt about killing. He hadn't really had time to think about what he'd done, hadn't _wanted_ to think about it. He put his head in his hands knowing he'd never forget the terrible deep crunch as he'd crushed that man's skull. The wet splatter of brains across the cement.

His voice shook. 'I'll ... I'll be ok Mikey. For what they did to Raph, I don't think I regret it. It's just ...' He felt Mikey's arm slide around his shoulder and Don shuddered, fighting back a sob. He'd missed this. Missed the closeness.

'It's ok Donnie, I understand.' _Yes. Of all people I know you understand the most, Mikey._

Will came to the door, his expression haunted. "I put him in my room Don, he's asleep.' Don nodded gratefully. Will stared darkly at the wreckage on the bed. 'Will he be ok?'

Michaelangelo's eyes held ghosts of their own as he gazed at Raphael. 'I ... don't know.' He stood up suddenly and limped towards the stairs. 'I need to mix some herbs up for that shoulder, the infection looks bad.' Will remained for a moment and cleared his throat awkwardly, started to speak and then swallowed it, trailing after Mike.

Don dragged a chair beside Raphael's bed and rested his hand on the burning brow. Fiery hot. Sweat had begun to gather again and Don slid a cool, damp flannel carefully across the familiar face, avoiding the bandages. Now that he had a moment to sit and rest, he could feel his heart clenching in pain.

'_You can't die Raph! Not after everything... not after all this time ..._ '

If Raphael heard his strangled whisper he gave no sign. Don gripped the scraped, raw knuckles and rested his head on the side of the bed. Tears streamed down his face and he fell into exhausted, anguished sleep that way, salty trails pooling on the bedspread.

**** **** ****

_Pound, Pound, Pound, Pound. Grind, Grind, Grind._ The herbs combined together slowly into a thick green paste in the bottom of the mortar. Mike mashed them with unnecessary force, staring at, but not really seeing the result of his efforts. Raphael ... home. Mike felt like he was floating slowly through a dream that was on fast forward, it was still so surreal. He felt like he'd been on autopilot for at least the last year now, not thinking too hard about anything or anyone, just surviving day to day. It was hard to go manual again. It was like one of his nightmares, the four of them happy like they had been, and then waking up to loneliness, scars, the hard reality of how things really were. Any moment now he would wake up. _Pound, Pound, Pound_. Except... Raph's blood still smudged his hands and his finger still hurt after stabbing himself with one of the needles in his haste. He scooped the paste into a dish to take upstairs and snatched up the kettle to pour over an infuser. The splash of hot water against the scars on his hand brought a yelp of pain and the slap of reality. He all but sprinted back up the stairs with his concoctions, limp forgotten. Raph was home! Now if only they could keep him alive!

He worked around Don, pasting the green goo around the puffy reddened wound, padding it over again with cotton gauze. It wasn't pretty, but it hadn't poisoned the blood yet so there was a good chance it would heal properly. He turned his attention to the horrible puncture down low in the plastron. He'd never seen a wound quite like it – usually the hard leathery plates were enough to protect from most injuries – except of course a direct stab wound with enough force behind it, but this was different. The edges looked lifted and ragged, as if someone prised it up and tried to rip a chunk away. He found himself gritting his teeth as he examined it. _I wish I knew what I was doing... Master Splinter would know how to treat this..._ It didn't seem to be infected, just oozing blood and fluid so he flushed it with saline solution, sprayed the outside with antiseptic and taped thick cotton padding over the top to cushion it. By the time he'd finished the fever was worse and Raphael was stirring restlessly in unconsciousness. Mikey hurried downstairs to grab a bucket and some snow to cool the fever. He recalled Don using snowpacks when the burns had driven his fever through the roof and nothing else could bring it down. Remembering sent a tremor down his spine and he pushed the terrible images away.

**** **** ****

Charlie was warm, tucked into a cozy bed, under a fluffy doona and he felt safe. He could sense Don's solid presence nearby sunk deeply into sleep. Mike's glowed like the sun on a spring day – though there were some clouds. Raphael's spirit flickered not far away but it was small and subdued, as if there wasn't enough wick to support a decent flame. Another presence, strangely familiar nagged but he was too exhausted to feel more. He floated in peace and quiet, when suddenly he sensed her. A woman's voice drifted to him urgent, anxious.

'Raphael! Where are you? They're coming after you Raph, you have to keep moving!! Goddamn you, answer me! '

He recognised it. 'Lena?!'

'Charlie!? You're safe! Thank God! You have to wake Raphael Charlie, he's dying!! He's giving up! Don't let him give up, they're coming after you again! They're tracing you, some tracking chip I didn't know about!' Charlie's dream-self shivered in fear and the darkness was replaced with a vision of a small tablet-like tab of metal between the bones on Raphael's left forearm. It was deep. It was also leading the enemy to them. He saw in his mind's eye trucks filled with men in black, their weapons gleaming. The terror returned. 'Charlie, you have to warn them! WAKE UP!'

Charlie sat bolt upright in bed with a cry of horror and scrambled down, yanking on his damp jeans and tshirt. Heart in mouth, he ran down the hallway to Raphael's room – Don was there, slumped in exhausted sleep next to the bed. Raphael was a crisscross of bandages, his head and shoulders propped upright by pillows. Charlie looked around wildly, there on the other bed a medical kit still lay open. He rummaged inside until he found a surgical razor and snatched it up. Don was gripping Raph's right hand, which was lucky since he needed access to the left. Grimacing he gripped the green forearm below a thick cotton plaster and slid his hand down until he found the spot. There was a small scar there to mark the spot, from where they'd sliced into him to place the chip. Holding his breath he gently put the razor to the edge of Raphael's skin and started to press down. When a bead of bright blood welled up he jerked back in horror.

'I can't.' He gasped through tears. Raph had already bled rivers for him already. He didn't want to make Don do this - he'd felt the pain it cost him to see his brothers blood. He turned and ran from the room seeking someone to do what he couldn't. He turned the corner and saw Will. Really saw him. He'd had a few hours of sleep, it wasn't much but it was enough that he saw now what he'd missed earlier. They faced each other down the hallway, Will looking cornered.

'What are _you_ doing here?' Charlie cried angrily.

Will cringed. He knew who Charlie was, what he was, and wasn't surprised that the boy knew him even though they'd never met. 'I ... I don't know' he finished lamely. Charlie glared darkly and Will tried to elaborate 'I wanted to help ...' he tried. 'I wanted to ... atone.' He finished again. 'I never meant for things to go like this.'

Charlie ran at him and Will thought he was going to strike out, but instead he grabbed Wills hand and dragged him down the corridor to Raph's room. Will felt something sharp hit his hand and found himself holding a razor, dabbed with blood. Charlie's eyes bored into his like drills.

'You know about the tracking chip' Will's eyes widened and he nodded slowly. 'Take it out!! They're coming here if we don't take it out and destroy it!!' The words hit him with force, making his ears ring strangely.

Will gripped the blade tightly and glanced at Don who was dead to the world in his exhaustion. The compulsion was too strong. _Oh, God._ He sank to his knees beside the bed and pushed Raphael's forearm down, then, before he could stop himself it was too late and the razor blade slashed down deeply. _Shit!_ Blood welled quickly, covering his hands with its slipperiness. Raphael didn't stir, though Will heard Charlie make a choking sound_. Nothing for it._ He grabbed up the large tweezers sitting beside a squashed bullet and started digging around as gently as he could until he found the little pill shaped piece of metal.

'_Shit_!' He swore. 'They screwed it into his bone!' The blood kept welling over the wound but he'd seen the little screw that meant trouble. 'Charlie, get Mikey. I can't get this out without help.' But there was no need. Charlie smacked into Michelangelo as he re-entered the room with a bucket of snow.

Will suddenly realised how it must look, up to his elbows Raph's fresh blood, holding a razorblade. He stared up at Mikey, his eyes huge and guilty.

'_What the hell_?!' In the blink of an eye Mikey had him by the throat. Don jerked awake as they crashed against the wall to find Raphael bleeding again and Mikey throttling Will, his face mottled with anger.

'What the _hell _do you think you're doing, Will?!!'

Don grabbed Mikey's arm. He hadn't seen his brother show so much emotion in over a year, it was both exhilarating and frightening.

'Mikey, what the hell is going on?' He demanded. Will gasped in a half breath and managed to wheeze out '... tracking ... chip .... arm.'. Don's mind whirled. It was a possibility. He grabbed Raphael's butchered forearm, trying to swab away enough blood to see what was what. Insidious gleaming metal was nestled tight against the bone with a tiny titanium screw.

'Let him go Mikey, he's right. We're in deep trouble.' Michaelangelo took his eyes off Will reluctantly and allowed him to sag in a bluish heap against the floor, gasping & clutching his bruises gingerly.

'Don't move, dude.' He warned. Will had no intention of moving, he'd never seen Michaelangelo so angry in his life. The turtle might be shorter than him, but even after a year of neglected training he was still incredibly strong. Mikey fetched a tiny screwdriver designed to tighten reading glasses. With Mikey holding the arm still, Don managed to remove the chip, sewing Raphael's arm up once more and bandaging the limb which was now completely covered in gauze.

'Look, I'm sorry,' Will croaked from his corner. 'I should have said something before I tried to take it out myself, but this is bad.' Will looked the two turtles in the eyes. 'Whoever's following Raph will see that he's been in this spot for a few hours now. We need to take that thing far away, as fast as possible.'

Don and Mike looked at each other over their brother. The snow was swirling outside the window, thick and fast with no sign of slowing. It would be difficult to get far before the weather made travelling incredibly dangerous. Don spared a thought for Leo and Splinter somewhere out there in the cold and hoped they were at least safe and warm. Even more he hoped they were on their way home.

'He's right, Mikey. I'll take the chip and get it as far away from here as possible. Maybe I can find Leo.'

Will swallowed. 'No! I'll go.' He insisted.

The brothers stared at him. Will looked at Raphael miserably. 'I never told you guys, but, I knew him ... Raph ... before I met you.' They stared at him in silence and Will looked at his feet trying to avoid the hot, dangerous glitter of their eyes.

'I owe him alot. And I'm fresher than you both. I'll take the chip across country in my car, keep them moving for a couple of days.'

Don grabbed Will's arm painfully tight and jerked him to his feet.

'Why should we trust you with anything? You owe us some serious explanations.'

Will shrugged him off. 'Yeah I do. But we don't have time right now.' He looked into Don's dark brown eyes, trying to show how honest he was being. 'They're already on their way, and if we don't move fast, they'll get their chance to do this to you and Mikey as well.'

Mikey made his decision. He put the chip into Will's hand. 'You'd better get moving then.'

Will nodded and clenched the chip tight. He looked at Raphael one last time before hurrying to grab his gear.

'How can we trust him?' Don demanded.

Michaelangelo stared at the fresh blood on his hands. 'We can't.' There was fear in his baby blue eyes when he looked up. 'But, I don't know what to do Donny. Raph was weak enough before losing any more blood. If we move him now it might finish him off.' He closed his eyes on the fresh smears. Don put his hand on Raphael's brow. He'd gone strangely cool.

'I know Mikey, but we may not have a choice.'

Charlie ignored them as they discussed the danger and tried to focus. The flicker that was Raphael was getting further and further away and no matter how he tried he couldn't seem to hold onto it. He pushed himself into the muggy depths of Raphael's mind, thick with muted pain and tried to give his own energy, but it was like trying to reach out a hand to someone who didn't reach back...the energy dissipated without doing any good. He groped after a fading thread of awareness.

~ _Raphael was tired ... utterly exhausted in every way. He just didn't have the strength to keep fighting. A foggy corner of his mind remembered seeing Donny. After two years of Hell, it was enough. Enough to know one of them was alive. Charlie would be safe. He ached to see his family again ... but ...the darkness was so peaceful... so sweet ... there was no screaming here ... no harsh metal chains...no needles ...and he was so tired...~ _

Charlie shook his head in denial as the vague impressions came to him.

'_Raph! No! Please come back_!' Charlie sobbed wildly. Mike and Don looked up, suddenly afraid. Mike checked Raph's pulse, his sluggish pupils.

'Don, he's lost too much blood!' Mike snatched a packet from the medical kit and Don hurried to take the long tube before Mike stopped him.

'No, you're exhausted. I'll do it.'

Don nodded and helped Mike thread the large needle into his own arm until the blood was circling through the thin tube, red and hot. As it reached the end Don thrust the point into a vein in Raphael's right arm and taped it down. It was something they'd had to in the past once or twice and Don watched Mike flex his arm, encouraging the blood to flow, hoping they hadn't left it too late.

Will poked his head back in the doorway, done up in warm jacket and thick boots. The backpack under his arm had a midnight black katana strapped to it and he stuffed the tracker into an envelope in his jeans. Don followed him down to the front door.

'Look I know I've got some serious explaining to do -' Will started. Don silenced him abruptly by jerking open the front door to the snow and wind. He tossed him the car keys.

'Will, we've been 'friends' for the last two years, but I realise now I know absolutely nothing about you. All I care about at the moment is my brother's life. If really are our friend, then get that thing as far away from us as possible, as fast as you can.' Will clenched his jaw, looked away and nodded. There was nothing much he could say to that except...

'If you need a place to hide, my uncle has a cabin about thirty five miles south of here. He's never there this time of year so you'd be able to hide out for months.' He passed Don a scrap of paper with the address scrawled on the inside. 'Be careful Don, they'll be coming for him.' He pushed out into the storm, which felt like being hit in the face with a bag of ice. The car took a few tries to get started, but once it did he roared the engine mercilessly and pulled down the road as fast as the bumpy dirt drive would allow, snow spraying everywhere.

**** **** ****

Karai sat in the passenger seat of a black armoured van and flipped her vibrating cell open.

'Mistress. The tracker shows the signal has split in two. Both were sitting stationary for the last two hours, but ones on the move again. Heading west.'

'And the other?' she demanded.

'Still stationary.'

Karai considered. She wouldn't put it past Raphael to cut out such a tracking device. The turtles were resourceful and clever.

'My team will follow the first signal west. It is most likely they run, knowing we are on the way. Investigate the stationary signal and report back to me.'

'Yes, Mistress.' Karai hung up and stared out into the swirling snow. She had to admit, the professor was nothing if not thorough when it came to keeping track of his little playthings.

**** **** ****

Charlie curled up on the spare bed after crying himself senseless. Mikey's eyes swam, but still he let the blood flow into his brother. Something was rising within him, something searing and unstoppable. Whenever he'd imagined Raph coming home – it was with attitude and some wild story about hooking up with aliens or some biker gang, not this... not an inch from death and covered with scars like he'd been... tortured... for the last two years. He traced one of the horrible scars down Raph's plastron and suddenly the dam was breaking. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks, his whole body shuddering with the pain as emotions he'd walled off years ago flooded back. He rested his forehead against Raph's good shoulder, managing to find a patch of skin free of brutality.

'Please Raph, I need you.' He sobbed. 'Don't go... Don't go...'.

Don found him that way, chanting it like a mantra, his words slurring and yanked the needle from his arm before he lost consciousness. Mikey didn't even notice, lost in the vortex of emotional agony he'd been suppressing for the last two years. There was only the pain and the wracking sobs and the words that might hold Raph in the world.

'Don't go, Raph... _please _... don't go...'. Don felt his own eyes burn anew and wrapped his arm around Mikey's shell. Nothing left to do but wait.

**** **** ****

Three hours later Raph was still with them. Just barely. Twice he'd stopped breathing and they'd had to swallow hysterical panic and do CPR, working together for almost ten minutes, _an eternity_, refusing to give up, before he'd coughed weakly and started breathing again on his own, his heart stuttering back into slow rhythm. His fever started to soar again and they took turns watching him, one dozing uneasily with Charlie curled close, the other sitting with his hand at Raph's pulse, time ticking by in faint throbs of life.

Five hours passed and they felt themselves relax a fraction as his heart stayed steady and his breathing seemed a little deeper. It wasn't much, but it was a start. They were almost starting to feel like they'd pulled through the worst of it when Charlie suddenly woke up with a strangled cry and ran down the hall to the window. Concerned, Don & Mikey followed him wearily and looked out into the swirling darkness. Stark light cut through the trees as a nondescript black van pulled up a safe distance from the house. Don felt his blood run cold.

Charlie's whisper was tight with terror. 'They found us...'

**** **** ****

Leonardo perched on the branch of a tree, his breath steaming, hidden by the darkness and the swirling snow. The wind tried to snatch his cloak and dragged at the hood but he ignored it, barely even noticing. Lights glimmered warm and welcoming from the farmhouse, but he ignored that too. His eyes were dark and predatory as they tracked the man beneath him in the snow. _A Foot Ninja... out here?! How did they find us?!_ As he scanned the area he could see more flickers of movement, more black shapes against the snow, closing steadily on his home. Leo drew his swords as a surge of utter hatred gripped him, warming him with its fury_. Why can't they just leave us alone?!!_ He'd kill every last one of them before he'd let them hurt his family again, or die trying. He flipped down from the tree in a graceful arc, his swords glimmering momentarily with reflected light. A gasp of agony was swallowed by the sifting snow and dark, hot blood splattered the night.


	6. Chapter 5

**~ Author's Note ~**

Thankyou so much to all the people who are following this story and giving reviews! I really appreciate any and all feedback so much =D. It really helps to keep me motivated and inspired! ^_^ !! !

** My apologies to all who have been recieving update alerts only to discover it's an old chapter reposted - I am having alot of difficulties with FFnet caching old files which makes it very difficult to make a small adjustment. ;_; I plan to have the next chapter out within the week. Adjustments were made due to the fact that the original chapter was not beta'd and some of my dialogue leaned a little towards Australian slang. Thanks to Amicitia at SSforums for that catch ^_^ I will be posting sketches fairly soon from the fic at deviant art under NightshadeTMNTfan if anyone is interested =D. Enough of me, enjoy!

~Nightshade

**Damarikomu**

**Chapter Five**

Leonardo swept through the drifting snow, a silent and deadly shadow in the night. Survival was the only thing that mattered now. To kill or be killed. Many years ago they'd worked hard to avoid taking lives and sought only to disarm the enemy and win the fight. That time was long past and where the Foot were concerned, Leo saw no reason to hold back anymore. Harsh experience had taught him not to hesitate when it came to the safety of his family. He was through with mercy, through with pity. As far as he was concerned, any man marked in service to the Foot had made a choice and there was no going back. There was no point trying to spare lives when the enemy wasn't playing by the same rules. Not anymore.

Ten men had climbed out of the van. Two of them were dead before they'd taken a dozen steps and Leo's gone before they even hit the ground. He slipped through the trees and found another target. A ninja setting up some kind of long-range gun. The poor fool didn't sense the danger until his throat was already slit, pumping his life away into the icy slush, heels thrashing briefly. Leo sliced the weapon in half with a single stroke and moved on. The snow gave him cover as he shadowed amongst the main group of men, winter and darkness cloaking him more intimately than any lover. Two went down under the first sweeping slice of his katana, hot blood splattered the snow with a hiss of steam. He flipped over their thrashing bodies and landed gracefully, ducking the slice of a blade, rolling, rising with a thrust and swipe of his own that took off a hand – hysterical screams were silenced by the butt of his sword and the crack of bone. A blade swept into his peripheral vision, he blocked the stroke with the sliding catch and hiss of blade against blade and spun, a black blur, his heel catching the opponent in the mouth with a bloody crunch. The ninja gave a strangled cry of agony, stumbling back to block Leo's next slice. He parried, they danced, Leo leapt the blade as it stuck at his legs, rolled through the snow, sprang, blocked the next slice and elbowed the ninja in the face. It couldn't last, the ninja was tired and cold from too many hours spent sitting in the van. His reactions were sluggish and far too slow to save himself. Leo shoved the man back with a powerful thrust of sword against sword, spun low and followed through with a savage slice to the belly, ignoring the hot spatter against his arms.

Snow dusted down from the roof and he looked up to see three men slipping in the upper window. In a blur he drew his tanto and threw the flashing blade. The target slammed against the windowframe with a strangled cry, sagging and twitching out its death. Leo leapt and swung himself up onto the awning. Snow cascaded down the slanted tin as he slid stealthily to the window. He jerked the dagger free from the man's neck with a flicker of grim disgust and ignored the body as it slid wetly down the awning to thump in the snow below. The inside of the hallway was dark but for the soft light filtering up from downstairs. There was no room to swing in the small space and he quickly sliced each katana through a wad of snow and sheathed them. His feet touched smooth floorboard quietly. They'd been here for two years and he knew every creaky inch of the old house.

He crept level with the first bedroom when a Tanto slashed at his throat from the darkness. Leo grabbed the man's wrist, crashing it back into the doorjamb to hear the audible snap of bones. The ninja shrieked in agony through his mask and it's the last sound he makes. Leo snapped his neck with cold precision and jerked the body back out the hallway window. It slid down the snowy awning and flipped bonelessly out of sight. He turned back into the hallway. _One more._

Leo slipped to the next black bedroom as silent as shadow – he can see a silhouette in bed. _What's Will doing in here?_ He wondered briefly.

He jerked back suddenly as the darkness peeled away from the wall to his right, shuriken hit the doorframe as he ducked and rolled into the bedroom. The lamp was handy so he snatched it up and threw it hard. The ninja dodged narrowly.

'Will, get up already! We're under attack!' The ninja draws something, flings it – Leo tried to dodge but it skipped across his wrist guard, caught briefly in his arm before falling out.

'Leo!!' Suddenly Mike and Don were in the doorway and the ninja leaped up onto the sleeping figure, stomping maliciously before leaping at Leo with a tight scream his kama slashing the air, knowing he was already dead. Don's Bo caught him across the temple midair with an audible crack and Leo turned aside neatly as the body crashed across the dresser and into the corner head first. Don dealing death blows? He realised he wasn't the only who understood how the rules had changed.

'Leo you're back!' Light flooded the room as Mikey flipped the switch.

Leo froze, staring at the bed. He doesn't know how he missed it. _How could I have not realised– _. Suddenly the strangeness of the night was falling into place with a resounding crash.

'_Raphael_ ...' he breathed darkly.

Raphael's breathing is slow, ragged, like every breath is a struggle. There's smudged dirt and blood all over him and there are so many bandages he's more white than green. His gaunt face is caught in a grimace of pain as he sweats in the midst of a raging fever. Raph suddenly coughed weakly and Leo stared as a wet line of blood trailed down his brothers jaw.

'Raph!!' Mikey grabbed the cloth from Raphael's forehead and gently wiped the blood away. 'That bastard jumped on him, Don!' he whispered tightly.

Leo could only watch woodenly as Mike and Don examined Raphael's wounds. The bandages were starting to soak red across their brother's plastron. He took in their worried faces as the weak coughs continued to bring up fresh blood. He felt like he was frozen inside, paused in a split moment in time where half of him wanted to kneel at his brother's side and touch the familiar, battered face. The other half is frozen, unable to penetrate the haze of bitterness. A voice inside wants to hiss in horror- demand to know every tiny detail of what's happened since he left over a week ago ... but he doesn't. He can't. He turned without a word and dragged the dead ninja into the hallway, pushing it out the window to follow the others.

He came back to himself as Don touched his arm uncertainly. 'Are you ok, Leo – your wrist?' He doesn't mention the blood splattered across his brother's cloak, doesn't question the conflicting emotions in his eyes.

Leo glanced at the small cut along his wrist where the dart had nicked skin. The blood had already stopped and he picked up the cartridge and handed it to Don. He felt a bit tired, but nothing serious.

'I'm fine Don. Just a nick.'

Don examined the tranquiliser thoughtfully. 'Hmm, they musn't have tipped it properly or you'd be out cold at the moment. This stuff is powerful. They weren't playing around.'

Leo looked at Mikey who was wiping gently at the blood running down Raph's jaw.

'Grab your stuff. We need to get out of here tonight.' Without looking at Raph again Leo strode from the room.

'Wait- Leo?! Where are you going?' Mikey called, disbelief in his eyes. 'Don't you even want to know what happened? Raph... Raph's _back_ and he's hurt....!' His voice trailed away as Leo stopped and looked back at him over his shoulder. His eyes flashed with anger, but his voice was calm and composed.

'Yes, Raph's back Mikey and surprise, surprise so are the Foot.' Don cringed inwardly as Leo's words hit Mikey like a slap and the younger turtle was forced to look away, choosing to look down at Raph's battered face instead. Michaelangelo looked even more vulnerable as the light shadowed the terrible scars across the left side of his face, scars that traced down his arm and thigh.

'You think these two where the only men they sent? There are bodies all over the property, Mikey. I need to drag them into the woods before they freeze. We were lucky they only sent a small force but there'll be more. Everything else can wait until we're safe.' He looked at Don, ignoring the stricken look on his siblings face. 'There's a van out at the treeline Donny, we'll take it with us, but you're going to need to check it over first. Be thorough, we can't afford to be followed.'

Don nodded briefly, unsure how to respond to Leo's strange attitude, but shook his head slightly at Mike's shocked face as Leo vanished down the stairs.

'How?! How can he be that way? How can he just, turn his back like that – we don't even know what happened – Raph almost died TWICE yesterday and he doesn't even care?' Mikey's voice was rough with anger but tears swam in his eyes. Don put a comforting hand on his little brother's shoulder.

'You know how Leo's been since Raph disappeared, Mikey. It won't fix itself overnight. We just need to give it some time.'

Mike didn't say anything he just stared at Raphael angrily.

Don tried again. 'We're family. Nothing can change that, but so much has happened. If - when, Raph wakes up he'll be able to explain everything and things will go back ... things will get better. Leo's right – we need to get out of here before more of these guys show up. Let's go grab our stuff.'

Michelangelo shrugged Don's hand away. 'I'm gonna stay with Raph. He could choke if he keeps coughing up blood.'

Don nodded sadly, wishing he could wave his hand and make everything ok. 'I'll go see to the van.' At least the van was something he could fix.

**** **** ****

Will cursed himself as he drove like a madman through the driving snows. His throat ached horribly and swallowing was torture but he realised he was lucky to be swallowing at all. It had taken all his willpower not to turn and run the other way when Don staggered through the door, Raph slung over his shoulder. Don was covered in snow, dirt and blood looking utterly wiped out. Raph was a wierd, pale shade of green, covered in so many scars and bruises and so much blood ... it didn't seem possible he could still be alive. But somehow he was. Will clenched his fists on the steering wheel until it hurt. _I won't let that bitch get him this time. I won't let her get any of them!_

His old bomb of a car was holding up remarkably well considering how hard he'd been thrashing it down the highway for the last five hours but it would have to hold up for at least a day if he was going to give the guys some distance. He knew Karai. Knew Barras. They wouldn't be far behind. There was a shit load of money at stake, and a crap load of ego though he knew she called it 'honour'.

'Gods, Raph...what the fuck did they do to you in there?'

For two years he'd lived with his own shame and self disgust, torturing himself wondering exactly what was happening to his green friend at the hands of that psychotic 'scientist'. Every day he opened his eyes and wondered if this time he had the balls to break his promise and tell Raph's family that he knew exactly where their brother was. It was always the same. He'd end up in bed and spend half the night staring at the ceiling wondering if he was just a complete and utter coward – or if the promise really was meant to be kept. Betray his word and tell? Or writhe in the little web of deceit and lies he'd spun around himself to maintain the promise. But now Raph was out! Will didn't know how, didn't know why. He just hoped they were all gonna live through it.

He flashed back to the moment he'd been caught slicing Raph's arm open with a shudder. He couldn't believe he'd done it – his sleeves were still stiff with dried blood. Karai had briefed him long ago on Charlie's power, his ability to get into your head and influence your thoughts, but he'd never felt anything like it until tonight. It was hard to tell in the moment when it was happening to you, but slashing a friends arm open whilst they're on the edge of life and death wasn't something he'd normally attempt. After what these guys had been through, he was just lucky it was Mikey who'd caught him in the act as opposed to Leo, he suddenly realised. Very lucky. Leo could be one scary motherfucker.

He didn't even know if Raph would be happy to see him when he woke up. It was probably fifty/fifty to wether he'd try to cut Will's head off or be grateful that he'd kept his word. He couldn't say he'd blame any of them if they wanted to gut him and stick his head on a pole. Regardless, it wasn't going to go down well when they all found out his secrets. In fact it was probably a good thing he was putting some distance down until the shit hit the fan. Besides, it was time to start paying back his debts and attempting to reclaim some of his honour. He pressed down on the accelerator, pushing his luck for every inch of distance he could gain on the icy roads. Less than an hour behind him an armoured van was hauling ass to catch up.

**** **** ****

Leonardo dragged the corpse by the feet through the snow, ignoring the heaviness in his legs and arms. It had taken him just over an hour to drag each body one by one to the treeline at the edge of the woods. They left dark smears in the trenches their stiff bodies made through the mounding snowflakes. At least it was still snowing and he didn't have to worry about the blood, otherwise he might as well have painted a big arrow with 'Bodies Here' written underneath it.

Leo knew what he was supposed to feel, what he was supposed to think. He was supposed to just forgive everything because Raph was so hurt, supposed to let the last two years of hell slide. He couldn't and wouldn't. His jaw clenched with anger – Mikey hadn't trained properly in at least a year and Don wasn't in the best shape. Tonight's attack might have been far more deadly if he hadn't decided to return home in lieu of the storm. He could have lost another brother, or both. Was it any real surprise that Raph shows up and suddenly they're all in danger again? Trouble had always been his speciality.

Leo took a deep, icy breath and tried to calm his racing heart. He felt scattered, unsteady, his thoughts jumping wildly from one line of anger to another and he hated it. He gripped the bark of a tree and sank his frozen face into his hand, trying to settle himself into a semblance of calm. His minds eye followed again the dark line of blood as it traced down his brother's jaw. Blood. It had always been between them. As brothers where resentment ran as deeply as love, and as ninja whether it was the enemies .. or each others.

_~ Leonardo flipped his way across the rooftops after his brother. Raphael was flying – speeding across the snowy cityscape with practiced ease and Leo was, for once, having a hard time keeping up. Raph sprinted, leapt off the edge of the building, nabbing a clothesline one floor down and used the momentum of his fall to swing a full circle, twist and land on the roof on the other side with graceful ease. Leo lost sight of him as he vaulted across the space and paused at the edge of the building, scanning the night._

'_Followin' me Leo? You think I need a babysitter?' Raph stepped out of the shadows, dressed warmly in a long coat and red scarf. He had a black woollen beanie pulled low over his head. He showed barely more than a pair of dark amber eyes through the layers._

_Leo sighed imperceptibly, frustrated with himself for being caught._

'_I want to know what you're up to Raph. Every night you slip out without telling anyone where you're going or what you're doing. Master Splinter is worried, and so am I.'_

_Raph snorted._

"_I can take care of myself, Leo. I'm not a kid anymore, Ok?'_

'_You're not an adult yet either.'_

_Raph bristled angrily. 'Excuse me?! The last time I checked we'd all turned 18. It's not like I still need the bib and bottle, bro. I need some space ok. I got stuff of my own to sort out.'_

_Leo raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. 'Stuff that involves sneaking away in the middle of the night? If it's so innocent Raph, why don't you just show me?'_

_Raph huffed frostily. 'You're always so goddamn nosy.' He tried to reason. 'Look – since the truce with Karai ... I don't have much going on, Leo. Ok?' He paced the roof restlessly as he talked. 'Donny's always got his gadgets and computers – that security software he's obsessed with. Mikey's got his video games and that animal shelter he's been helpin' out at. You an' me – we got ninjitsu. But beyond that ...' He stopped pacing and looked Leo in the eye. 'You're all about perfection, Leo. You're about as close to a little model of Splinter as you're gonna get without fur an' whiskers.'_

_Leo's eyes narrowed._

'_Me? I'm not interested in perfection; I just wanna be able to fight to win. So where does that leave me when most of the time we're just sittin' around twiddling our thumbs? All I got is ... ' He trailed off and looked down at his gloved hands darkly._

_Leo wasn't moved. 'I understand what you're saying, but it doesn't get you off the hook. If you're doing something risky, it affects the whole family. You know how fragile the truce is, Raph. Can you honestly say you're not endangering us all by tempting fate? Karai only needs the smallest excuse and we'll have war on our hands again!'_

_Raphael's eyes flashed darkly. 'I'm not endangerin' anyone but myself and I'm not your little soldier, Leo. I got my own life too, and you don't have to know every goddamn detail!' He paused, trying visibly to calm himself. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before opening them again more calmly. _

_Leonardo stalked up to him until they were almost beak to beak. _

'_Oh, but I do have to know Raph and you want to know why? Because you're such a freaking hothead you never think before you get involved in anything!! Our entire family is at risk whenever you run off on one of your temper tantrums! We can't trust you to stay out of trouble because you're always running head first into it!! Why should this be any different?'_

_Raph's fists clenched at his side. 'Get outta my face Leo.' A warning._

'_I won't have you risking all of us for your stupidity!!' _

_Raphael tried one last time, his voice was tight as if he was restraining something dark and vicious._

'_I'm warning ya Leo. I'm tryin' so hard here and you're making it so goddamn difficult. Just... give me some freaking space!'_

_Leonardo grabbed Raph by the front of his coat and jerked him the last few inches, aware that he was crossing a line between them, but unable to stop himself as weeks of pent-up frustration roared to the surface. _

_'You'll get space when you've proven you can control yourself and we can trust you!'_

'_Well I guess that ain't tonight then.' Raph's swing was wild with rage. Leo ducked easily, but staggered in surprise as Raph grabbed the end of his bandana and jerked him off balance, planting a painful kick to his side. He tried to make a break for the nearby rooftops as Leo stumbled. Leo leapt after him, snatching at the back of his coat, dragging him around, ducking a fast moving fist. Raph hit the ground hard as Leo swept his legs out, but flipped back up with a roundhouse kick hard enough to make Leo's head ring._

'_Just fuck off Leo!! I don't want to fight tonight!'_

_Leo ignored him and tackled hsi brother as he made to jump to the next roof. They missed the hard cement edgework narrowly and he wrestled Raph's arm up behind his back until they were pinned, struggling that way. Raph cursed viciously as pain lanced up his arm and Leo wrenched it tighter to hold him still._

'_Fuck you, Leo!! Get the fuck off me!'_

_Leonardo waited while Raph struggled himself to panting stillness._

'_Raph, you're going tell me what you're up to.' It wasn't a question._

_Raphael snarled, his face mashed half in the snow. _

_'Fuck. You.'_

_Leo dragged Raph's arm up a little higher until he heard a gasp of pain._

'_Are you really that stubborn? Is your secret really worth a broken arm?!' Leo demanded. 'I don't want to hurt you, Raph but you make everything so difficult!'_

_Raph's fist clenched in the snow as he hissed in pain. _

'_Splinter might 'ave been grooming you as Leader since we was kids Leo, but that doesn't mean you own us and it doesn't mean you're always fucking right!'_

'_No, but it makes me the one responsible. I'm the one in charge, Raph and **you **__**will answer me**__!'_

_Raph was breathing hard but he laughed darkly. _

'_God! Enter the Alpha male and his bullshit! You're so fucking righteous, Leo! Everythin's so black and white for you! Must be nice.'_

_When Raph suddenly wrenched his arm away, Leo was ready, but Raph ignored the pain to kick his legs up. He managed to wrap his ankles around Leo's neck and with a heave and a snarl smashed him down into the cement. Leo felt his face smack the ground and tasted blood before he could leap back up. He was just in time to watch Raph leap the gap and sprint across the opposing building to the far edge. Leo started to follow him, fury rising in his chest, but dizziness forced him to catch his breath and a warm trickle of blood was making steady progress down his neck from his split lip....Raph looked back at him once before he leapt across another divide and was gone from sight. _

Leo shook himself from the memory and found himself looking down at the pile of corpses at his feet. Glassy eyes and crusted blood stared back morbidly. Had he really killed this many men tonight? Shouldn't he feel guilty? Full of remorse at so much wasted life? Why did his heart feel so cold? One minute he felt seared by anger and bitter loss, the next almost numb, like the bodies freezing together at his feet. A tangled mass of white flesh and black uniforms drenched in clotted crimson. If only everything _was_ black and white. If only.

**** **** ****

April giggled as she watched Casey skid across the snow and land on his but with grimace, skis sticking into the air like stalks. They were spending the weekend at a small cabin for a well-deserved break. A little down time to relax and have some fun. She was supposed to be on a business trip – that's what she'd told Donny anyway, but with the guys still so messed up she didn't feel right telling them the good news....she wanted to savour it for herself first, enjoy the moment with Casey before going back and facing them. She was three months along and it still felt a bit surreal. Casey wobbled over to her with a grin and slipped a hand around her belly, she was only just starting to show. She didn't know what they'd think, but... she hoped it would be a sign of a new beginning for them. They'd all been through so much and it had been so long since they felt like a proper family. Everyone was drifting apart. It was time to move forward with life and if the guys needed some help getting back on their feet then she would help them. That's what family was for.

She had a new apartment, spacious and beautiful. A new job that paid excellent bucks – she and Casey were back together and they were going to have a family. It was like things were finally coming together after the last two years of pain. Finally she had some good news – a whole big list of it actually. She had been bursting at the seams for months, dying to tell them her secret, but Casey had made her promise to wait for the big day – Christmas in less than a week.

She was so excited it was hard to sit still when she thought about it. The big surprise. Actually there were a few surprises, all of them awesome, but THE surprise had her squirming to tell. God, she hoped they liked it.... if they didn't it was a shit load of money wasted for nothing ... but she had a feeling they would. After all, they'd planned it down to the last detail.

Her cell buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out, laughing as Casey slipped again, gave up and starting trying to stick snow down her jeans.

'Hello? (_Argh! Casey, that's freezing!)_'

'Is this Miss April O'Neil?' April elbowed Casey in the ribs until he fell over again.

'Yes. Who is this?'

'Miss O'Neil my name is Detective Sharp, I work for the NYPD. I'm afraid I have some upsetting news for you.'

April felt a chill crawl up her spine.

'What's happened?' She demanded.

'There's been an... incident at your apartment downtown. I'm afraid there was some kind of shootout in the building and a number of people were killed. Unfortunately alot of the damage was done in your apartment.'

'_Oh my God!_' April's mind spun. _Oh my god - the guys, this has to involve them – they could be hurt!_

Detective Sharp continued. 'I'm sorry to have to tell you there's a great deal of damage and you're going to need new carpet. Homicide is investigating the case but we're going to need you to return home to make a statement. You might also want to consider reviewing your insurance policy.'

She frowned. 'A statement?'

'It's just procedure, Miss ONeil. We're aware that you've been out of town for the last couple of months but you're going to need to come and assess the damage to your property anyway. We'd appreciate a statement while you're in the area for our records.'

April nodded into the phone. 'Ok, Detective, I'll come home tomorrow and call in. Goodbye.'

Casey frowned and drew her against him.

'What's happenin' babe? I thought we were gonna hang here for at least a week and relax!'

She hugged him tightly. 'NYPD just called to tell me my apartment is now a homicide scene.'

Casey swore and held her comfortingly while she made the call she had to make.

'I gotta check on the guys, I just hope I can get some reception out there!'

It rang twice.

~ Click~

'Hello?' Don sounded wary.

'Don! Is everyone ok, what's happening?? The police just called to tell me I'll need to remodel my apartment – What's going on?!'

'April! It's ok, slow down!' He sounded awkward. 'I'm sorry about your apartment, I was going to call and tell you, but ... things have been kind of crazy here. We've run into some, uh – problems.'

'What kind of problems?!!'

There was a pause and muffled mutter through the line as Don covered the mouthpiece to listen to someone else.

'Well, I was in the city picking up some stuff and some guys jumped me. I didn't mean to get your home involved again April, I'm really sorry.' He sounded so guilty her heart ached for him. Poor sweet Donny.

'I don't care about the apartment Don, I just want to know that you guys are safe! When the detective told me I thought – I was worried!'

She could almost imagine him blushing down the other end of the line.

'I swear we're all ok, April, but we've had some trouble at the farmhouse too.' His voice sounded strained. 'The Foot have been sniffing around so don't come back here alone. We dealt with them but it won't be safe.'

'I understand Don, I'm just glad you guys are ok. What are you going to do?'

Don sighed into the receiver. 'Will gave us an address for a place nearby. We're not sure we trust him completely but we don't have much choice at the moment. We need somewhere to recuperate for a week or so and figure out what's going on.'

April considered. Within two days she could have the surprise ready to spring if she and Casey hauled ass and worked hard.

'Ok Don, I think I have somewhere safe you guys can hole up for a while but I'm going to need a couple of days to sort things out.'

'Thanks April, I'm really sorry about all this, you know I don't want you to be worrying about us on your -' April suddenly heard Don yelp.

'Gotta go April, I'll call!' he said hastily and before she could ask what was going on he hung up.

Casey kissed her gently.

'Sounds like vacations over then.'

'Yeah. We need to get the biggest surprise ever rolled out and ready to go in two days.'

Casey sighed morosely, then grinned lopsided. 'Just my luck fallin for a workaholic! Alright then babe, you're the boss. Sides, I wanna see the look on their faces!' he grinned like a little boy.

'First I need to deal with the NYPD and my apartment. Apparently ... alot of people died.' That wiped the grin right off his face. She shivered and wondered what Don wasn't telling her. There were some gaping holes in his explanation if the damage was as serious as Sharp implied.

**** **** ****

'Dammit, Leo!!' Don yelped tried to slow his racing heart. 'Are you trying to finish what the Foot started?! Slow down, you almost hit that deer!'

Leonardo eased off the accelerator, aware that his hands were gripping the steering wheel like clamps. He could feel Don's eyes on him and made a conscious effort to breathe deeply and relax. Don was right, he might as well let the Foot have their way if he was going to kill them all in the icy conditions.

'I'm sorry, Don. I guess I'm still on edge.'

Don pried his aching hands off the dashboard and stared at his brother.

'On edge? That's an understatement! Look Leo, I know you're angry, I know you want answers, but please, at least for Mikey's sake, try to calm down. I need you thinking clearly if we're going to figure this out. I don't want to lose _any_ of my brothers again.'

Leo sighed deeply, trying to relax. 'How bad is it?' He finally asked.

'Not good. His vitals are weak. He's lost more blood in the last two days than anyone has a right to live through and some of his injuries are infected. We almost lost him _twice_ yesterday, Leo and if that fever doesn't come down soon so we can get some fluids into him ... it might be a very short reunion. We shouldn't even be moving him.'

Leo had won that argument. With Mikey glaring daggers they'd smothered Raph in doonas and carried him, mattress and all out into the whipping snow, sliding him into the back of the van. Mike was back there now, trying to keep him cushioned from the worst of the bumps with the strange little boy Don had brought along. Leo had no idea what to make of that little detail yet. He had no idea what was going on and there hadn't been time to get all the facts yet.

'We had no choice, Don, you know that.'

Don covered his lack of response by pointing to the map.

'Take the turnoff coming up on the left, we're almost there.' Leo slowed the van as gently as he could and made the turn in a slow arc.

'Why didn't you let me tell April about Raph? Don't you think she'd want to know?' Don's voice was soft.

Leo glanced at him. 'You want to tell her he's back when he could be dead by the end of the week?'

The words came out harsher than he'd intended. By the time they pulled up outside Will's uncles, the mood was black in the vans cabin and not much better in the back.

* * *

More Soon =) Review, Review, Review


	7. Chapter 6

I apologise for how long it has taken me to get out a new chapter. Rest assured, I haven't abandoned this fic, but life took some unexpected turns and it took me a while to recover. Your messages begging me to keep going really did help, so thanks everyone! I really do appreciate it! 3 Nightshade

_**Two and a half years ago ...**_

The air sat sharp and icy in the sewers. Winter was underway and the cold penetrated into the hollow bones of the city until the very air felt sharp enough to slice you from the inside out. The tunnels crackled eerily in the dark, worming through the underground like the dirty veins of some great beast, crusted and gleaming. Raphael sat in the relative privacy of the carriage he shared with Mikey and brooded in the dark. He felt the cold, but he didn't care.

Everything is going to shit, he reflected.

He was shivering but he refused to draw the blankets up from his bed. It felt more right that his body should feel as miserable as the rest of him. It had gotten to the point where he wasnt sure if the wracking shivers were from the cold or a result of the fucked up craziness in his head.

Another fight. Another stupid, useless argument with Leo. It had always been a struggle between them – sometimes it seemed like they were just stuck in their bullshit version of some crazy kata. Bruises, slammed doors, violence and words that came exploding out before he could reign back the things he didn't even want to say. He wanted to know why. Before it had always been enough to just feel it and react, but now he was starting to wonder, starting to question ... why the hell couldn't they get along? No. He forced himself to face the truth_. It's me. I'm the one who takes things too far. Every fucking time. It's not Leo getting called up in front of Splinter, it's me. And its not cuz Leo never starts the fights, its because I'm the one who crosses the line. _Raph had been fighting with Leo for his entire life. He knew where the line was and yet he still couldn't stop himself from either leaping across it or dragging his brother over it. Either way, the result was the same.

He stared at his own clenched fist, still raw where Leo had dodged his punch and he'd smashed into the unyielding brickwall. The knuckles were still swollen and ached painfully when he flexed, but he didn't care. He sat there in the dark flexing it just so he could feel the pain, something to distract him from the blackness in his heart. The dark embraced him, as did the cold, and it didn't numb the raging confusion so much as provide a masochistic sense of satisfaction. Raphael the emo-turtle. He snorted darkly.

For so long now they'd been clashing, working their way up to greater and greater levels of anger and frustration he felt they were nearing a point of no return where one of them was about to do or say something that could never be taken back. Or do something they'd never be able to forgive him for.

He knew if someone crossed that line, it would be him. Raphael had finally started to pay serious attention to the creeping fear in his guts. _What's wrong with me? Why am I always fucking things up?_ Questions that had plagued him as long as he could remember. Leo wasn't so hard to understand, the things that drove him were obvious in every scathing lecture Raph had ever been subjected to. Always the patronising words would get under his skin, driving him nuts until suddenly sarcastic foreplay was a roaring argument between them. Don and Mikey disappearing behind bedroom doors, frightened of the crackling anger in the room, unable to stop the disintegration happening right in front of them.

He was starting to feel so tired. They were 18 now, not quite so young anymore. So much had happened in the last two years since the Shredders death, not the least of which was their new agreement with Karai, the new leader sent from Japan to reorganise the Foot clan's holdings in New York. It had all come down to a shadowy meeting among rooftops, weapons bared, trust a fragile strand called honour between the two groups. The truce was forged, the rules were simple. Neither clan would interfere with the other. One warning would be given should the line be crossed and then all honour-bound codes would disintegrate back into war. It was a respite they dearly needed, a truce they couldn't afford to break.

Raph had been almost bored until he realised the local street gangs were on the uprise. With only the skeleton of the old Foot clan to compete with they were surging forth once more in numbers and even the media had begun to take notice. There were a few out there, the Black Wolves, White Hawks , Purple Dragons - like badly named superbowl teams, smashing their aggression out on each other and anyone who got in their way. Dumb humans doing dumb things so they could pretend they were clever, had power and belonged to something greater than themselves. He snorted to himself in disgust, aware on a deeper level that his own situation wasn't so far removed.

Of all people Raph understood the need to belong. In the entire world, the only place any of them would belong was their little family. There were no gangs, no youth groups, no shelters they could join. There was only four brothers and a father who would always be isolated from the outside world. April and Casey were exceptions to the rule and still.. as humans they could retreat to their own world whenever they needed a break, whilst he and his brothers remained in the shadows. All they had was each other. He understood what that meant. There was no running from problems in this family because in the end – there was nowhere to run to. They would never exile him from the lair because he was the only family they would ever have – so they would put up with his shit, day after day until one of them ended up almost killing the other and then ... he knew ... he'd probably leave. There was nowhere to go, no sanctuary in that option. It was just one of only two choices he could see in his future. Bend or break. Toe the line or lose everything. And what was out there for a lone mutant? A life spent running, hiding, scavenging for scraps. No life at all, but it was still better than the alternative.

A black tide of self-hate rose around him as he reluctantly recalled their last fight ... he'd seen red. Literally seen red. A haze of anger and he'd lost complete control, their fight vicious, no restraint as he leapt at his brother sai's drawn. He was only deeply grateful that Leo was always prepared for trouble. Only Mikey's shouts of horror had penetrated the foggy rage, the anger clearing, finding himself pinned to the dojo floor Leo's katana to his throat. Hot blood was trickling down his arm from the slice of the blade. A drip hit his beak as a deep red droplet rolled down Leo's beak from the neat slice across his cheek ... close enough beneath his brothers right eye to make him freeze. They'd stared at each other as his rage cleared, breathing heavily.

Mutual bleakness in each others eyes, regret, a silent recognition. That _he_ had finally lost it. Leo had released him slowly, backing away as if he couldn't risk turning his back and finally walked away without a word. Raph had stayed there staring at the ceiling, breathing hard through a cloud of despair until Don finally came in, tentatively asking if he was ok, did he need stitches? Raph felt the wound absently. Stitches rough against the scab formed across the neatly sewn line. It still hurt a bit and he wasn't looking forward to getting the stitches pulled, but he didn't care – wished it was worse. He'd almost blinded his own brother. Just one more inch and he would have permanently taken something he could never give back. He folded his arms across drawn knees and sank his head against the taut muscle.

He was supposed to be so strong. What was the point of working to be the strongest so he could protect his brothers, if he wasn't strong enough to protect them from himself? If he could be so diligent with ninjitsu, so focused with weapons training and learning the skills he knew would help defend his family, the world, then surely he could learn to reign in the monster he was becoming? Three weeks ago he'd punched Mikey in the face, a full on belt across the cheek that had sent his little brother sprawling in shock. Not a gentle smack upside the back of the head for cheekiness, not a light thump on the top of the shell for mischief, but a right hook with enough vicious anger behind it to knock him flying. Raph's throat tightened in pain. It was one thing to fight with Leo, quite another to be smacking around Mikey who forgave every harsh word he'd ever said, was always working to make him smile, dispel the tension, unite them again in laughter while he... did his best to piss everyone off. He couldn't recall the shocked pain in those blue eyes without feeling another wave of self loathing.

Would it be so hard to take a deep breath once in a while and instead of saying the first wretched, stupid ass thing that came to mind ... choosing to say something different? Was he really such a dumb jock that he couldn't turn 'Fuck You' into 'No problem'? A frustrated and confused, hormonal teenager had turned into a dark, bitter jerk with a chip on his shoulder the size of Manhattan and nobody to direct it at except punks on the street or family. Too often, it was his family who felt the brunt.

Always he'd felt like this life had made him what he was, but he was older now, starting to understand things about himself on levels he'd never really explored before. Sometimes being the leader meant Leo made choices he didn't want to make. Words always considered, actions weighed with responsibility, expectation. Not because he was trying to be a righteous prick (though fuck he was good at it), or that he even wanted to be leader (a realisation that he still found confusing), but because this role had been put on him by their father long ago before he even fully understood the burden of taking such a position on. It didn't matter that he was perfect for it, the point was Leo didn't waste time bitching and moaning when things didn't go his way, he just did what he had to do. He felt another wave of self hate .. somewhere along the way Leo had risen to the challenge Splinter had placed before him. Raph knew he'd not only failed to master his, he'd gone backwards if it was even possible.

He had finally begun to see what Splinter had been trying to teach him for years ... of the two of them, Raph was the only one who now had a choice. He was the one who chose every time to make it even harder on Leo than it had to be. Who chose to resent their positions in the family hierarchy as if Leo had ever had a choice. When even the act of resenting it all proved how unworthy he was for the position in itself. His head hurt from thinking about everything, he'd spent the last week locked in his room, just ... brooding it out. Trying to find an answer that didn't involve killing a member of his family, himself, or self exile. Bend or Break. The blackness in his heart kept whispering that he wasn't capable of bending ... that breaking shit had always been his m.o. and he was kidding himself if he thought change was even an option.

There was a gentle tap at the door and he grunted, dropping a knee, not wanting to be caught with such vulnerable body language, curled up as if he was still a little kid. Mikey's face peered hesitantly around the door.

'Um... I made you a sandwich, dude. S'not much - Leo's gone up to get the shopping from April, but we still had a bit of cheese left over...' His voice trailed away, uncertain of his reception.

'...Thanks.' Raph grunted.

Mike took that as permission to enter and slid inside, closing the door behind him, a good indication that he wanted to talk. He stumbled over a dumbbell in the dark with a wince of pain and Raph impatiently flicked on the small nightstand light before he ended up with sandwich on his face. Mike handed it to him and Raph slid it onto the nightstand, not yet ready to put anything in his churning stomach.

'Dude aren't you cold?' Mike asked, shivering as he stared at his brothers exposed arms. Mike was wrapped in a warm coat, beanie and had a bright blue scarf wrapped around his neck. In contrast Raph was just about naked.

Raph shrugged halfheartedly and tried to sound convincing. 'I'm fine.' They both pretended not to notice his goosebumps.

Mike fidgeted for a moment, obviously trying to think of something to say to lighten the mood. He'd seen Raph angry before, but lately things were just downright scary. He was afraid. Afraid because usually Raph bounced back from these fights a bit calmer until the guilt wore off and another argument brewed, but this time Raph wasn't full of attitude. This time his brother had completely isolated himself from the rest of them. He hadn't spoken to any of them for days. The Lair was eerie quiet except for the echo of Leo's training as he sought to purge his own personal demons the only way he knew how.

Raph suddenly heaved a slow sigh. Gathering himself. _Bend or break. _

'Mikey...' He began roughly.

Mike blinked.

'I'm sorry.' The words came hard, his pride swelled darkly but he forced the beast back and said them anyway. He met the wide blue eyes with difficulty, but forced himself not to look away.

'For not eating the sandwich I made you yesterday? Total waste of peanut butter and jelly man. The bugs got more out of it than you did.' Mike gave him an anxious half-smile.

Raph shook his head slightly. His voice gruff.

'You know why. For hittin' ya. It wasn't right, you didn't deserve it an I'm sorry.'

Mike's hand shot to his cheek. It was no longer swollen and red, that had been weeks ago. He grinned suddenly and shrugged.

'No problem, man.'

Raph shook his head and grabbed Mikey's wrist firmly so the younger turtle was forced to listen, forced to consider what he was saying seriously. Why did it always have to be so hard? He had been a jerk and they shook it off like it was normal, acceptable on some level, but when he tried to apologise nobody took him seriously. Always that edge, as if they expected him to be an asshole all the time and apologies were too far above him. Above a monster. He grit his teeth.

'_No,_ it's _not _alright. Don't ... don't act like it is, cuz it isn't.' He squeezed his eyes shut angrily.

'Raph, it's cool bro, I forgive you.' Mike said softly.

How? How could Mikey just forgive things so easily? Raph knew if Leo had hit him like that unprovoked, he'd have been carrying it around for months... not Mikey. He'd looked hurt and avoided his big brother for maybe two full days before he was back again, pretending like nothing had happened, like his brother hadn't hurt him ... _again. Even though your cheek was puffed up like a golfball, and you had a blackeye, you still somehow managed to smile at me, though I know it must have hurt like hell... _

Raphael searched those wide blue eyes for a moment before releasing Mikey's wrist, staring down at the rumpled sheets of his bed. Words weren't enough, he didn't know how to put them together to make things right and his actions were always so rough. All bicep, no brains, as Don liked to say in his more irritated moments. But the brainiac was right, it never got him anywhere. He was so tired of it.

'And If I'd killed, Leo? Would you have forgiven me then?' He demanded roughly, his eyes bleak.

Mike shifted awkwardly, unsure what to say. He was rarely privy to Raph's black moods. The angry ones sure, but not this strange black depression he was seeing. It scared him more than the anger. Anger was normal in Raph's world.

'Raph you'd never have... you and Leo you fight pretty hardcore, but you wouldn't have really hurt him! You both drew blood, sure, but they were only scratches.' Somehow the words sounded hollow. He hadn't meant them to, but they both knew deep down that something was very, very wrong. A scratch didn't usually require stitches. Scratches were accidents, not made with deliberate intent.

Raph suddenly slung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. He was a good few inches taller and Mike stared up at him a little apprehensively. Not expecting the sudden warm hand on his shoulders, a gentle touch. He couldn't' believe it when Raph suddenly drew him into a hug, big arms wrapped around him, a beak settled against his shoulder, arms cradling his shell. He wrapped his arms around Raph's shell in awed delight, nestled his face into his brothers neck. It was so rare. This gentleness that he rarely showed to anyone. They stood like that for a long time, Raph's breathing harsh, Mike simply soaking up a moment he knew was one of the few times he'd ever hold Raph in his life. The one out of all of them who had the most trouble with showing affection.

Finally Raph's voice, low, tight as if he held back tears.

'I'm sorry Mikey. I.. I _don't _want to be this way anymore, but ... I'm losin' it... feels like somethin' I can't stop.' he whispered, anguished.

Mike gripped Raph's carapace tighter.

'Don't say that, Raph. Don't talk like everything is set in stone and you and Leo are on your way to killin' each other or something. Dude, you're like, changing things _right now_.' He'd gripped Raph closer again then, when it seemed like his brother might pull away, surprised when those hands didn't push him off. It felt so good, this contact, so soft when Raph was usually so hard, unyielding, pushing away when someone wanted to be close. It was also terrifying, like a goodbye moment out of a movie ... as if Raph didn't expect to ever be this close to Mikey again and was etching their closeness into his mind so that he could carry it always.

'You really think I can stop?' A desperate whisper, harsh, strangled. 'You really think I could ... _be different?_'

Mikey squeezed tightly, his voice soft and tried not to sound afraid.

'Raph ... you're strong, stronger than me. Sometimes I even think... stronger than Leo. You can be whatever you wanna be. You just gotta decide what that is, bro.'

And there it was. A question he'd never even thought to ask. If he didn't want to be like this anymore ... then what did he want? Confusion welled within him and the walls suddenly felt suffocating. He needed to move and stretch in the fresh air, he needed to think.

Mike felt the moment come to an end as his brother's muscles shifted and drew back, smiling. Raph med those blue eyes with effort. It was so strange to think that Mikey still believed in him. After everything. Raph knew he didn't deserve it. He never had. He managed to force a half-smile.

'Thanks Mikey.'

Mike tried to grin, knowing the moment was over, the embrace forever tucked away into the precious memories in his mind.

'Anytime, Raphie. Y'know you're my favourite bro!' they both paused at that little slip. None of them were supposed to have favourites, since they were kids and fights had erupted over who was best friends with who and who was left out, Splinter had forbidden it, saying there was no room in their lives for such selfishness. Raph stared at Mikey for a moment, the awkuard blush, something flickered between them, something different and then his little brother was backing out of the room, babbling about video games and how Raph should really come out and watch Underworld with him because vampires were really too cool and then the phone rang and he'd zipped out to answer it, leaving his big brother standing there feeling oddly confused, but aware that he'd come to a kind of decision within himself.

Bend or break. In the end, breaking would just be too damn easy and he'd never been one to take the easy way out in anything. He laughed at himself darkly and finally forced himself to unclench the fists at his side, breathed deeply, composing himself. He glanced at the sandwich. If Mikey could still believe in him after everything ... then surely there was still some way of turning things around. He picked up the plate and walked to the door. Light flooded across his face as he slid it open and stepped out.

Donatello sighed to himself. He just couldn't crack the algorithms for the security software he was trying to hack. He opened a web browser on the closest screen, ignoring the dozen others that were still open on the three monitors before him and began running searches for cracks and hack information. The program was giving him a headache, as riddled with traps as it was. It was mostly research for the design he'd had mulling over in his mind for the last month now, an idea for a security program based on an entirely new method of motion and heat detection, linked back to certain database cross-referencing systems.

He was so absorbed in his work he didn't hear his brother's approach until the bag came down beside him.

He looked up expecting to see Leo and flinched.

Raph stared down at him, completely impassive, ignoring the flinch as if he hadn't noticed it. Don flushed a bit guiltily. It wasn't that he thought Raph would hurt him, they never argued like he and Leo, but things had been so tense lately that he was on edge. They all were. Raph had become an unpredictable element.

'Raph ... Sorry, I didn't hear you come in.'

Raphael nodded briefly and Don suddenly sniffed, his eye catching on the mug of steaming coffee in his brothers hand. Raph placed the mug down beside him carefully and waited as Don picked up the mug and took a cautious sip. He almost churred with pleasure as the creamy, coffee slid hot down his throat.

'Raph, what did you put in this? It tastes amazing ...'

'Bit of cream left over from the pie Mikey made last night. Thought you might like it white if it tasted a bit richer.'

Don stared up at his brother bemused at this sudden act of generosity.

'Cream? I mean, yeah, usually I prefer it black, but this ... tastes like heaven.' He took another sip to cover his confusion. Raph wasn't one to wait on others, he'd barely spoken to any of them for weeks unless it was to snap or fight with Leo. His eyes caught on the bag and he glanced up.

Raph crossed his arms and nodded at him to open it, eyes unreadable.

Slowly Don reached in and pulled out two motherboards and what looked like an external hard drive, possibly terabyte. He stared. Each item was almost new looking. There was some minor damage to a couple of components and the cases, but nothing he couldn't fix with about ten minutes at the soldering station. He looked up, stunned.

'Raph, where did you get these?'

His brother shrugged vaguely.

'Around. Found a spot they tend to chuck stuff. Not sure if this is any good to ya but I heard em' talkin' when they threw it. Seemed pretty pissed off to have to toss it, so I thought, must be worth somethin'.'

'These are some of the latest models, Raph. They'd be worth thousands in the stores! It's not that I don't appreciate it, but I mean... coffee and gadgets?' He laughed. 'Did I work right through my last ten birthdays or something?'

Raphael frowned, looking away. His muscles seemed to bunch and Don gave him a moment by sipping his coffee again. Finally, Raph seemed to unwind himself. His arms came down though he still seemed tense.

'I just wanted to give ya something ... after all that shit I broke.' He said gruffly, eyes down.

Don's eyes widened. He remembered. A moment of anger so intense Raph had taken the edge of his worktable and crashed it over. A number of little projects completely destroyed. Like a bull in a china shop, his fit of fury had ruined hours of Don's careful work. Time spent searching for rare components, time spent trying to fix them and turn them into something workable. Raph had never apologised for that before though Leo had lectured him five ways from Sunday about it.

He looked up at his brother, really seeing him for the first time in months. Raphael had dark hollows under his eyes like he hadn't been sleeping. He looked thinner somehow, like the anger was finally starting to eat him from the inside out. For that matter was he eating at all? Don tried to remember the last time they'd sat down to a proper meal together and failed. They'd all been fending for themselves, avoiding group gatherings that might provide an opportunity for more antagonism to develop. Training was brief as Splinter tried to give his more volatile son time to sort himself out. Splinter, all knowing and wise, had finally decided to let Raph and Leo sort out their issues on their own. Now 18 he expected them all to start walking their own path within the family. Looking at Raph, Don wasn't sure if he agreed with Splinter's thinking. His eyes fell on the line of stitches on Raph's bicep and he counted back in his head.

'Let's take those stitches out. It's about time.' He offered.

Raph nodded and sat in the chair Don drew up, as he collected scissors and solid tweezers from their supplies. They were all skilled at simple first aid. Stitching each other up was a fairly common occurrence when you practiced martial arts with real weapons. Accidents happened. Raph could have pulled the stitches himself but he sat silently as Don snipped and yanked the first stitch out cleanly, though it must have stung like a bitch. It disturbed him a little ... Raph usually gritted his teeth and cursed roundly in situations like this. Now he sat there looking impervious to what must obviously hurt.

Don smiled softly to cover his concern. 'The parts are great. Apology accepted, Raph. Thanks.'

His brother looked at him and for once there was no hint of anger in Raph's eyes, no defiance, just a strange ... bleakness that he'd never noticed before. Don frowned and pulled the next stitch, concerned now at the lack of reaction.

Raph's hand suddenly caught Don's wrist and he looked up in surprise.

'I'm sorry, Donnie.' Raph's voice was rough with emotion, his eyes dark and intense. 'For... being such an asshole lately.'

Don frowned. 'You're not an asshole, Raph. We all know what a temper you have, you just... need to learn when enough is enough. '

Raph frowned and looked away. Finally, the emerald turtle grabbed the tweezers out of Don's hand and tore out the last stitch himself as Don gaped.

'Thanks for the stitches.' He walked out leaving Don to ponder why his words had completely altered his brother's mood. He turned to stared at the bag of goodies Raph had given him. It was the nicest thing Raph had really done for him in ... a long time. Even just the coffee itself would have been enough. He sighed, taking another sip. Something was wrong. Raph wasn't himself... hadn't been these last few months especially, but, that look in the amber eyes bothered him. He got up and stretched, poked his head around the corner and heard the faint echoes of Mike watching TV. No sign of Raph. Had he gone out? He wandered back to his desk and studied the hard drive wondering how many gig it was and if there was any unformatted data remaining. He'd fix the hard drive first then talk to Mike and Leo later, see what they thought.

"What do I think?"

Don shifted uncomfortably as Leonardo repeated his question. The elder turtle had just come to the end of an especially difficult kata. He held the final stance, blade swept high, his gaze steady on some spot across the room. Don watched a few lines of sweat trail down Leo's plastron and let the silence play itself out.

"I think the last two weeks have been a relief. I'm tired of his attitude, Don." The words were measured. Don blinked slowly at this and finally reached up and put his fingers on the dull side of the blade, applying pressure. Leo resisted him for a moment and then released a controlled breath, lowering the blade and turning to meet his brother's concerned gaze.

'What do you want me to say, Don? Raph's been a loose cannon for months now. He finally shuts up and leaves everyone alone for a few weeks and you want me to do something about it?' He wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist and continued. 'We both know I can't talk him out of this funk he's in. What do you expect me to do?'

Don frowned. Leo sounded defeated and that wasn't like him. 'I don't blame you for feeling that way, Leo. Things have been so tense, but ... is it really ok for him to be so isolated all the time? He's barely spoken to any of us in weeks. He rarely leaves his room and I can't remember the last time I saw him eat. Shouldn't we talk to splinter about this at least?'

Leonardo turned, placing himself in the starting position of a new kata and raised his sword again. He stared down the wicked edge of the blade held at a perfect parallel with the ground. 'I don't want to talk about it anymore, Don. I am sick to death of talking about Raph and what I am failing to do about him. Everyone seems to have an opinion about how I should be handling Raph as If I have any control over what that jerk does from one moment to the next. Just let him be. Soon enough he'll snap out of it and you'll wish he hadn't.'

Don blinked slowly at this completely uncensored comment. Leo was already leaning into the flow of his next kata, the moves faster and less precise than they had been just a minute ago. It wasn't like Leo to ignore an issue so deliberately. But if Raph didn't want to talk and Leo didn't either, it would take a stronger force of will than Don's to make them sort it out.

Don walked back to his lab slowly feeling anxious. Something wasn't right with Raph, but getting him to open up would be like drawing blood from a stone. Trying to force it might even make things worse. Leo was right, Raph had been in funks before and he always bounced back. The lair was peaceful at the moment. Maybe Raph just needed this space to sort himself out ... but in his heart Don knew this time was different.

Despite his attitude to Don's query, Leonardo thought over his brothers words. It was enough to disrupt the fluid rhythm of his training, tainting graceful katas with the subtle edge of his anger and frustration. Raphael. The truth was he didn't know what to do. He was out of ideas. The sheer violence rising between them had frightened him and all he could feel at the moment was relief that Raph was keeping his distance, because he didn't know what to say anymore. He finally gave up on the kata in disgust at his own lack of focus and scrubbed his face with a towel. The small scar on his beak twinged tenderly and he paused to finger it . So close.

Raph was good with the Sai. Lethally good. He had chosen to draw blood and Leo had lost his own control and retaliated. That had shaken him badly. Not only had Raph completely lost control, he had managed to take Leo with him in those moments of insanity and if there was one thing Leo demanded from itself, it was self control. What did he do if it happened again? Raph had genuinely attacked him. If he hadn't defended, he would at the least, be seriously injured. How did he respond to that? How many times was that horrific scene going to replay before one of them got seriously hurt, or worse? He shook his head. It felt like there was a lead weight in his chest.

Splinter had been pushing him to take Raph aside and try to talk it out - but he knew it would only make things worse. His brother was too angry at the moment, too unpredictable. Leo wasn't a psychologist or psychiatrist. He wasn't experienced in this kind of thing. All he could do was watch over Raph and try to keep him from hurting himself and everyone else, but that had already proven difficult. He'd struck _Mikey,_ of all people. Leo felt anger rise again as he recalled Mike's swollen, bruised face. The spark that had ignited their big fight. It was one thing for Raph to lash out at Leo, who was prepared to deal with his temper fits ... but to punch Mike?

He sighed heavily in the middle of the dojo, wishing the answers were easier, that he was wiser. Gradually, he came to a decision and headed for the showers. He would apologise to Don for being unreasonable and then see what his little brother thought. Maybe there was a tangible reason for Raph's temper, something they hadn't yet considered, and if there was, he had been avoiding his responsibility and Raph was suffering for it. He had to stop ignoring the problem and approach it in a new way. He had to find a way to reconnect with his little brother, before things went any further and they lost him to his own rage.

When he emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later and checked the lair, he realised Raphael had slipped out while he was in the shower. He considered following, but decided against it. It was a rare opportunity to speak with Mike and Don about the situation without risk of being overheard and Raph wouldn't appreciate being cornered the second he'd stepped foot outside. He called everyone into the living room and the meeting began.


End file.
