A/N: Hey, everyone. I'm back! Thanks to Amonraphoenix I've been on a roll with new stories. Thanks so much, Amonraphoenix! This story was inspired by The Humbling River by Puscifer.

Hope you all enjoy the story.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

It was going to be a white Christmas this year. Large flakes of snow gently drifted down to earth to settle across the windshield. The Battle Shell glided across the snow covered road on its way to Casey's farmhouse, carrying four very tired and excited turtles. Raphael was driving with Donatello in the passenger's seat, while Leonardo and Michelangelo were sitting in the back. Leonardo was deep in meditation and Michelangelo was staring out into the darkened night, watching as the snowflakes lazily drifted down to cover everything with a white blanket of purity. The youngest took his eyes off of the snowflakes and glanced out the windshield just in time to see Raphael turn onto the private road that would take them to the farmhouse.

"We're almost there, right?" Michelangelo asked.

"Yes, Mikey, we're almost there," Donatello confirmed.

Michelangelo grinned. "Sweet. I can't wait to see April and Casey," he said.

Raphael and Donatello looked at each other and smiled at their brother's childlike behavior. It was Christmas Eve and they were on their way to the farmhouse to spend some time with their friends on a much needed break from the city. It was going to be a time of rest and relaxation, and nothing more.

The snow began to fall more heavily the flakes becoming smaller and thicker. Raphael turned the wipers on, but thought nothing of it. They were supposed to get a fair amount of snow over Christmas so this was no surprise; at least the road was still clear.

Leonardo opened his eyes and glanced up front at the speed Raphael was driving . "Raph, slow down. You're going to get into an accident," the eldest warned.

"I'm goin' a decent speed," Raphael told his brother. "Besides, the road's clear, there's no ice, what could happen?"

As fate would have it, as soon as the words left his mouth, the Battle Shell hit a patch of black ice and began to slide, veering off and coming perilously close to skidding off the road. Raphael cranked the wheel, letting off the gas and managed to get the van back under control. He glanced in the rear view mirror to see Leonardo glaring back at him.

"So much for the road being clear," Leonardo growled.

"Let's do that again," Michelangelo chimed in.

"Let's not and say we didn't," Donatello offered in a shaking voice, face pale and filled with receding fear, as he clutched at his plastron just over his heart.

Leonardo sighed and shook his head. "Raph, seriously, please slow down."

"Leo, for the last time," Raphael began. "I'm not-"

A deer shot out from the brush, Raphael, whose attention was more focused upon his older brother in the back than the road in front of him caught the brief flash of brown and white before he slammed on the breaks, spinning his wheel as he tried desperately to avoid hitting the large horned buck. The Battle Shell jerked as the wheels connected with yet another patch of black ice. The van spun and slid out of control veering off to the left and striking something metal, which quickly gave way under the force and weight of the Battle shell with a screech of tearing metal. The van tumbled down an embankment rolling end over end. Michelangelo's scream and the sound of twisting metal, breaking glass and bodies striking the hard interior of the van were the last sounds anyone heard as everything was suddenly consumed by a void of unforgiving darkness.

He didn't know how he got here, or even where here was. The last thing he remembered was being in the Battle Shell with his brothers. Michelangelo looked around to find himself in a dark and dead forest. The only living thing in the entire forest seemed to be a large river that flowed a few feet ahead of him.

Nature, nurture heaven and home Sum of all, and by them, driven

"Leo?" Michelangelo called out. "Donny? Raph?"

The only answer he received was his own voice echoing back at him. Michelangelo whimpered in fear and wrapped his arms around himself, sinking to his knees. He hung his head and squeezed his eyes tightly closed. He wanted his brothers, and he wanted to go home.

A sharp pain suddenly shot through his left side. Michelangelo winced and tried to catch his breath, placing a hand to his side. He pulled his hand away and looked down in shock at the dark stain of crimson that was smeared across his palm.

"Mikey," Leonardo's strained voice broke through the silence of the forest.

Michelangelo looked up and for a brief moment he thought he saw the Battle Shell lying on its side at the bottom of an embankment.

"Mikey, answer me," Leonardo pleaded.

To conquer every mountain shown But I've never crossed the river

"Mikey!" Leonardo yelled in beseeching terror.

"Michelangelo!" Leonardo yelled as loud as his hoarse voice would allow.

Up front, Donatello coughed and groaned in pain. He opened his eyes and found the windshield shattered, allowing the cold winter air and snow inside. He was hanging from what was now the ceiling, the van having apparently come to a stop on its left side. He was covered in a little bit of broken glass and snow, but otherwise seemed to be okay. Donatello looked down to see Raphael laying on what was now the floor. He was unmoving and covered in shattered glass and red tinged snow as lacerations on his shoulder and arm slowly bled. His brother's chest rose and fell and Donatello breathed out a sigh of relief that Raphael appeared to be unconscious, though he was unsure if the lacerations he could see were the total extent of his brother's injuries.

Donatello looked over his shoulder into the back at his other two brothers. "Leo? You okay?"

"I'm stuck," Leonardo answered softly. "I think we hit a tree."

"What about Mikey?" Donatello asked with worry.

Leonardo grunted in pain, probably trying to get a better look at Michelangelo. "He's not answering," he replied in a strained voice. "I can't see if he's alright or not."

Donatello leaned over in his seat as much as he could, but he couldn't see his brothers in the darkened interior. The purple masked turtle reached into his belt and pulled out his shell cell. He opened it up and dialed the farmhouse phone number. After the third ring April answered.

"Hello?" April asked.

"April, we need help," Donatello tried and failed to keep the panic from his voice.

"What happened? Where are you?" April asked anxiously.

Donatello looked out of the passenger's side window and moaned as he saw nothing but the snow filled sky. He looked out the shattered windshield and narrowed his eyes, searching the darkened forest for anything that looked even remotely familiar. "The private road...I think. My head hurts."

"What happened?" April asked again.

"We went off the road, I think we hit something metal. Guardrail maybe? I'm not sure." Donatello tried to explain but his throbbing head made it difficult to remember current events. Concussion, Donatello thought to himself dully.

"Is everyone okay? April asked fearfully.

Donatello winced, straining against the seatbelt. "I don't know," he answered truthfully. "Just hurry."

"Don't move. Me and Casey are on our way," April assured him before the line went dead and Donatello hung up.

He gasped for breath against the cold night air, the seatbelt too tight against his chest, cutting off his ability to take in a deep breath. He reached over and tried to unbuckle his seat belt, but was unable to. Giving a grimace of irritation he turned back to face Leonardo.

"April and Casey are on their way," he reassured his older brother. "Try to see if you can wake Mikey up."

"How's Raph?" Leonardo quickly asked, not having heard anything from their hot-headed brother. "Is he alright?"

Donatello looked down at his red masked brother. "Not sure," he answered truthfully, shivering violently from the cold. "I'm trapped. I can't undo my seatbelt."

Leonardo reached over the back of the seat and gently touched Michelangelo's shoulder. "Mikey? Mikey, can you hear me?"

There was no reply from his baby brother. Leonardo tried to free himself from the branches that kept him pinned to the seat, but they held fast.

"Michelangelo!" Leonardo yelled.

Michelangelo rocked back and forth, his hands covering his ears in an attempt to try to block out the images and sounds that assaulted him. He hummed a random tune to keep from hearing Leonardo's desperate calls. He didn't know what was going on; he just wanted to go home.

Braved the forests, braved the stone
Braved the icy winds and fire

"Mikey, please," Leonardo continued to beg.

"Go away," Michelangelo moaned. "Go away."

Images of the Battle Shell flipped on its side at the bottom of an embankment continued to flash through his mind. Was it his mind playing tricks on him? Or was it really happening?

Braved and beat them on my own
Yet I'm helpless by the river

Michelangelo looked up towards the river that still stretched out in front of him. What was the purpose of a river in the middle of a dead forest anyway? He wondered. There were no animals or plants that needed it. Michelangelo frowned when he thought he saw something on the other side of the river. He slowly got to his feet and stumbled to the river's edge, his side becoming less and less painful the closer to the river he got.

"Mikey, please, answer me," Leonardo's voice echoed through the dead forest like a ghostly cry.

Michelangelo stopped at the water's edge and stared across at what he could only guess was a human child. The young boy waved at him to cross the river, which now that he looked more closely at the other side, appeared less dead than where he was standing. In fact as he watched, more and more greenery seemed to sprout making the other side of the river appear lush and alive; inviting. But when Michelangelo looked down at the water, he found that the current was much too strong for him to swim across.

Angel, angel, what have I done?
I've faced the quakes, the wind, the fire

"Come on," the boy called. "It's fine. The water's not that deep."

"It's not the depth I'm worried about," Michelangelo yelled back.

I've conquered country, crown, and throne

The boy suddenly ran across the large expanse of the river and stood beside Michelangelo. He smiled up at the turtle, his brown eyes sparkling.

"See? It's no big deal," the child said.

Michelangelo looked from the boy to the fast flowing water and felt a twinge of panic as the water seemed to call hauntingly to him. He took a step towards the river, his foot touching the icy cold water. He stopped forcing himself to pull back.

Why can't I cross this river?

"I can't," Michelangelo said. "My brothers they...they need me. I have to get back to them."

As soon as the words left his mouth, pain shot through his body, sending the turtle to his knees again. He pressed his hands against his left side and felt a warm, sticky substance ooze between his fingers. Michelangelo looked down to see blood gushing from a large hole in his side.

"That's what you'll be going back to, Michelangelo," the small boy said sadly. "The pain, and agony; suffering. If you cross the river you won't have to endure any of that anymore."

"I can't leave my brothers," Michelangelo whimpered.

The boy tipped his head to the side, as if he was confused by his answer, but gave a shrug.

Michelangelo looked up just as the boy put his index and middle fingers against his forehead and everything exploded in a brilliance of pain and misery.

Donatello looked out of the passenger's side window when light suddenly flooded the dark van. Up above he could make out the shape of an SUV parked on the side of the road. The doors flew open and two people scrambled out of the car. Donatello's eyes drifted closed as the people made their way quickly down the embankment. The Battle Shell rocked as one of the humans climbed up on to the side and opened the passenger's side door.

"Donny!" Casey's voice broke the deathly silence of the cold night.

Donatello sluggishly opened his eyes and looked up at Casey. It was clear that hyperthermia was starting to set in. Casey wrapped an arm around Donatello's chest before cutting the seatbelt that had held him in place. Jones grunted with effort as Donatello began to slip from his grasp when the seatbelt pulled away, but he managed to keep a firm grip on his friend.

"C'mon, Donny, you gotta help me," Casey pleaded as he pulled Donatello out through the battered and broken passenger side door.

Donatello forced his body to move and helped pull himself out of the wreckage. April was on the ground, waiting to help the first turtle out of the van. She slid an arm under Donatello's arm, helping her disoriented friend walk a little ways from the wreckage.

"Be careful getting the others out," Donatello mumbled to Casey, his lips numb with cold.

April helped Donatello back to the heated SUV and wrapped his shaking body in a warm blanket before going back to assist Casey who was carefully climbing out of the Battle Shell with a bloodied Raphael draped over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

Inside, Leonardo was still trying to get a response from Michelangelo, but with no luck. He could feel tears begin to burn his eyes as he feared the worst.

"Mikey, please, you've got to answer me," Leonardo begged.

As if to answer him, Michelangelo let out a strained moan. Leonardo's heart leapt for joy at the sound. His brother was still alive.

Angel, angel, what have I done?

Michelangelo didn't know where he was or what was happening. All he knew was that he was in an excruciating amount of pain. He could feel hot blood oozing down his cold left side, but he didn't know where the blood was coming from.

I've faced the quakes, the wind, the fire

Michelangelo's head fell forward as he felt himself drift back into the blissful realm of unconsciousness once again, but the sound of the back doors being flung open snapped him back to reality and reminded him of why he was still alive. He couldn't leave his brothers; they needed him, and he needed them.

"April, get the saw!" Casey yelled.

"Casey," Leonardo gritted out in pain. "Get Mikey out first. Please, you have to save him," the young leader begged.

April hurried up to the back of the Battle Shell with a hand saw. Casey took the saw and climbed into the back of the van. His heart plummeted into the pit of his stomach when he saw the chaos. He had seen plenty of gruesome and horrible accident scenes on television, but nothing compared to real life. It was like something out of a horror movie. The seats and wall were covered in blood; it was amazing that no one had been killed.

It was then that Casey saw Leonardo was pinned by the branches of a tree and unable to move. His eyes then sought out Michelangelo his horrified mind processing his friend's injuries and felt as if he was going to be sick. A large chunk of tree had smashed through the window and had embedded itself into the orange masked turtle's left side, probably when the van collided with the tree.

"You have to get Mikey out," Leonardo insisted, his voice slightly slurred.

I've conquered country, crown, and throne

"Leo, I don't think that Mike's-" Casey trailed off, not wanting to give his friend the bad news that his brother might be dead.

"You don't think that Mike's what?" Leonardo asked voice soft and hesitant.

Casey moved over to where Leonardo was sitting and began sawing the branches away.

"Casey, no! What are you doing? Save Mikey!" Leonardo yelled.

Why can't I cross this river?

Michelangelo was back in the forest with the large river and no way to get back to the others. The last thing he remembered was Leonardo yelling at Casey to save him, then everything had gone dark and he found himself back here, standing up to his knees in the flesh numbingly cold river, watching the fast flowing current pass him by.

"Were those last moments worth it?" the child from before asked as he played in the water near the riverbank. "Was the excruciating pain and confusion worth the few moments of stolen time?"

"I don't get it," Michelangelo said. "Where am I?" Michelangelo asked, ignoring the boy's question.

The boy turned from his playing to look up at the turtle. "I thought you would have figured it out by now."

The boy pointed over Michelangelo's shoulder to the land of withered trees and dying vegetation."That's where you will find your family and friends," the boy said before he pointed in the direction Michelangelo was facing, the vast oasis beckoning. "And that's where you will find peace."

Michelangelo's eyes widened in horror when he figured out where he was. "I'm dead?" he whimpered in a barely audible voice.

"Dying," the boy corrected smoothly. "This is the land between life and death. A place of in-between where you decide just how much suffering you wish to endure before the inevitability of death descends upon you."

Michelangelo felt his legs slide, the current dragging him ever so slightly towards the opposite bank. He shook his head back and forth in denial. He didn't want to die. He wanted to live! He wanted to go back to the van, to his brothers, his friends. He didn't want to 'find peace'. He forced himself to take a step back, followed by another.

"What are you doing?" the boy asked him.

"I'm going back," Michelangelo said through gritted teeth as he took another step backwards, managing to get one foot back on land.

The boy looked up at him with sad eyes. "But you will only find yourself back here," he warned. "There is no guarantee that you will continue to cling on to life."

Michelangelo shook his head in denial. "Donny will fix me up," he declared. "Donny will know what to do."

"Have you not seen yourself?" the boy asked.

Michelangelo looked down at his wounded side which throbbed painfully now that he had managed to leave the river. Only this time instead of just a bloody wound, there was a tree branch sticking out from it.

"There is too much damage," the boy explained. "Even with his medical knowledge, Donatello will not be able to save you."

Pay no mind to the battles you've won

Michelangelo shook his head as tears began to burn his eyes. "No," he whimpered in denial. "Donny will save me. I know he will."

"Everyone dies eventually," the boy informed him reasonably. "Though I suppose some do manage to cheat death, but death is always inevitable. Your brother, Raphael has made it here quite a number of times since you've crossed paths with the Shredder and Purple Dragons."

"But he always comes back," Michelangelo pointed out.

"Because it wasn't his time, and because he fought," the boy informed him. "But sometimes it is your time, and no amount of fighting will save you."

It'll take a lot more than rage and muscle

"I'll fight," Michelangelo said with determination.

The boy shook his head sadly. "You'd die on the table."

Michelangelo swallowed hard, clenching his fists together. "We were going to see April and Casey. We were going to have a fun time. This wasn't supposed to happen."

"Everything happens in its own time," the boy said softly.

Michelangelo looked out across the vast river. "No," he shook his head in denial." I'm going back. I can't leave my brothers, my father, April, Casey...What will happen to all of them if I'm gone?"

Open your heart and hands, my son

"They will continue on and you will be released from the mortal coil that constrains you, hurts and brings pain to you. You will be at peace. You will be...free."

Or you'll never make it over the river

"I don't want to be free!" Michelangelo shouted. "I want to go back!" Michelangelo took another step back and the last thing he saw before his world was consumed by unbearable agony was the little boy, shaking his head back and forth in resigned irritation.

"Mike? Mikey? Can you hear me?" Donatello asked.

Michelangelo opened his eyes to find his brother looking down at him. Without moving his head, Michelangelo glanced around to find himself in the back of an SUV.

"How's he doin', Donny?" Casey asked from the driver's seat.

"He's awake," Donatello answered.

Michelangelo fought back a cry of pain as his body was shot through with red laced pain that nearly had him sinking back into unconsciousness. His fingers twitched, instinctively moving towards the source of his pain, needing to touch his left side, but Donatello stopped him. Michelangelo glanced down to see a large chunk of wood still embedded in his left side. He felt his world blur around the edges are he struggled to stay conscious. Tears pricked his eyes as he tried to blink them back, wanting so badly to prove the boy wrong, but not knowing if he had the strength to do it.

Leonardo was gently placed next to Michelangelo, whose head rolled listlessly to the side, his tear filled eyes meeting his own.

"Leo," Michelangelo whimpered, a tear falling from his eye to hit the floor of the SUV.

Leonardo reached out and grasped Michelangelo's hand tightly. "Hold on Mikey, you're gonna be fine. I've got you," he promised as Michelangelo's eyes slid closed.

Donatello's fingers shot out searching at Michelangelo's throat for a pulse. "Casey, step on it!" he shouted at their friend as Leonardo felt a spike of fear run through him. Michelangelo's hand was limp and clammy in his own and Leonardo's throat tightened in panic.

Reviews are welcome, flames are not.