A/N: Thanks to Amonraphoenix for planting this idea into my head. This story was inspired by With Arms Wide Open by Creed. This is my first attempt at an mpreg story which is usually not my cup of tea, but the idea was too good to pass up. For those of you reading, you have been warned in the summary what this story contains. It's not too late to turn back if mpreg is not your thing. If you're curious and brave enough to venture forth into my madness I say welcome. I promise there isn't going to be anything too outrageous in this story (Amonraphoenix and Darkunderworld would probably have my head haha! Just kidding :)

Anyway, sit down, relax, and enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Turtles

It was the faint beating of a heart that dragged Michelangelo out of unconsciousness. His eyes fluttered open, only to find himself in pitch darkness. Rubbing his head where he lay, Michelangelo felt out who he was lying on; and he knew there was only one person whose chest was as broad as the one he was draped across. Michelangelo slowly sat up and reached out, his hand resting lightly on his brother's shoulder. He gently started to shake his brother awake.

"Raphie," Michelangelo murmured. "Wake up."

Raphael groaned as he began to wake up. He winced as the stiff muscles in his neck pulled in protest as he lifted his head up. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to relieve some of the pain.

"Raphie, what happened?" Michelangelo asked worriedly as he tried to see through the dark where they were.

Raphael rubbed his eyes. "We were...uh...give me a sec," his brother muttered. He moved his head back and forth, cringing when he heard bones crack. "We were...we were...I can't remember," Raphael replied uncertainly. "Urgh, my head."

"Here, let me see," Michelangelo said.

He reached up and gently examined his brother's head. He felt a large bump with his finger tips and he heard Raphael hissed in pain. "You got quite a knot there, Bro," Michelangelo said softly as he sat back on his haunches, staring off into the darkness as he tried to recall what happened to him and Raphael before they woke up. At first, everything was a blank, and then slowly, memories began to return. He had been out for a training exercise with his brothers. Ever since Splinter passed away a few months ago, Leonardo had stepped up their training.

The run had gone smoothly, with a few breaks to stop a break-in and a couple of muggings. On the way back to the lair, the brothers decided to race home in teams; Leonardo and Donatello had shot off in one direction, leaving Raphael and Michelangelo to go another way. It wasn't long into the race when Raphael noticed a van following them. He had quietly informed Michelangelo and the pair had taken precautions to make sure they weren't followed back to the lair. It seemed that they had lost the strange van, until they had tried to get back underground…That was when everything went to hell.

The van had ended up belonging to Bishop. He had cornered the brothers in a dead-end alley with no escape route. His men moved in and the brothers sprang into action. They managed to take out a good number of Black Ops before Bishop called in the big guns. Tougher soldiers with upgraded armor and weapons arrived on the scene.

One of the new soldiers advanced on Michelangelo, who was preoccupied with two other Black Op soldiers. He hadn't been paying any attention to what was behind him until he heard Raphael grunt in pain. Michelangelo swung around to see his red masked brother go down, clearly taking a hard blow to the head that had been meant for him. The soldier raised his gun and fired. The last thing Michelangelo saw before everything disappeared in a dark, swirling vortex of pain was an unconscious Raphael being dragged off towards the van.

That had been...how long ago? Michelangelo couldn't recall. Time lost meaning when one was unconscious. That could have happened hours…or days ago, for all he knew. Michelangelo hummed deep in thought and rubbed his eyes. He hoped Leonardo and Donatello were okay.

"What's going to happen to us?" Michelangelo asked his older brother fearfully.

Raphael was silent for a moment before he spoke, "Don't know," he replied simply. "If we're in Bishop's clutches, who knows what'll happen to us."

Michelangelo looked down at the floor. "Yeah," he agreed quietly. "But at least we're together."

Raphael smiled and patted his brother's shell. He reached back and rubbed the bump on the back of his head, wincing in pain. He was finally starting to remember what happened. Those new soldiers really packed a punch. Raphael was surprised he wasn't suffering from a concussion after that hit to the head he took. He gently laid his head against the wall, closed his eyes and sighed tiredly. He heard Michelangelo shift beside him before he felt his brother place his head on his leg. Raphael put his hand on Michelangelo's shoulder.

"I hope Leo and Donnie are alright," Michelangelo said sleepily.

"I'm sure they're just fine," Raphael replied. "They'll rescue us in no time and until then we'll be okay too."

"How can you be so sure?" Michelangelo asked.

Raphael smiled. "Because if Bishop tries anythin', he has to go through me first."

Michelangelo closed his eyes and smiled. With his brother beside him, Michelangelo fell into deep, dreamless sleep. He knew Raphael would be there to protect him from whatever Bishop had planned. He also knew that Raphael wouldn't let Bishop have his way; not without a fight, at least.

Michelangelo woke up to the sound of doors hissing open several hours later. He opened his eyes and lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the harsh white light that poured in from the outside. Michelangelo grunted when Raphael shifted underneath him. He moved and Raphael got to his feet, stepping in front of his little brother. Two heavily armored men walked into the room, guns raised and aimed at Raphael's chest.

"Out of the way, Freak," one of the men barked at Raphael. "Bishop doesn't want you."

"Too bad," Raphael growled. "He ain't gettin' his hands on Mikey. You want him, you answer to me first."

The men looked at each other. Michelangelo hid behind his brother, his blue eyes wide with fear. One of the men put a hand to an earpiece and nodded at something someone said on the other end. He motioned to the other and they both switched the safety off on their guns.

"Raphie? What's going on?" Michelangelo asked.

"One last chance, Reptile," the man on the left hissed. "Get out of the way, or we'll make you."

Raphael remained where he was; his amber eyes narrowing dangerously into slits of golden fury. "Then go ahead," he snarled. "Make me."

The next thing he knew, Raphael was on the floor; his body convulsing from the shock from the Taser guns. The last thing he heard was Michelangelo screaming his name. He strained to open his eyes only to see the men dragging his struggling brother out of the room. He was helpless to save his baby brother. Two more men walked into the room; one was a soldier, the other a scientist. At least he had a scientist look about him; or maybe it was because he was holding a syringe that gave Raphael that impression.

"Bishop was going to use one of your other brothers," the scientist said as he knelt down beside Raphael. "But now he's interested to see what will happen with your DNA."

Before Raphael could do anything, the soldier shot him with the Taser. Raphael's body jerked and twisted with the electricity that pulsed through his nervous system. His eyes rolled back before finally closing, the last sensation he felt was the pinch of the needle as it entered his skin.

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