Weeks

It's been five weeks since I last saw my big brother. Five weeks since he went out on one of his gosh-danged training runs topside and didn't come back.

It had been a while since I had stopped insistin' on him not going out alone, but right now, as I creep along in the shadows of this hallway looking for the room he is being held in, I wish that on that night I had gone with him. Mike was right when he said Leo's a trouble magnet. I'm beginnin' ta wonder if they ain't targeting him specifically just 'cause he's the leader. Take him out, cripple us all. Well, guess they got one thing right.

I clutch the hilts of my sai tightly, Don and Mike on either side of me, both stepping as soundlessly as I am. I signal the two to stop as I peek my head around the corner. Two Foot enter the elevator at the far end of the hall. Soon as the lift doors close and the coast is clear, the three of us split up down the hall, Don and I each picking a side and checking each room, Mikey keeping watch.

We know he's here, on this floor, down one of these corridors that end in an elevator. Donnie had hacked into the security cameras back at the lair. I was both relieved and more than a little angry at seeing my bro carried to and from that room . . . but at least we saw he was still alive; and kicking, I might add. Heh. Soon as we knew the where, we worked out a plan to get in. A plan, I might add, that went off without a hitch.

No one knows we're here, so all we gotta do is grab Leo and get out without being seen. Heh. Piece a' cake. Except, this is the fourth hall we've checked tonight, so if he's not here, there's only one more with an elevator. And with our luck, Leo'll prob'aly be in the last one we look.

A pop and click sound of a door being forcibly unlocked, quickly followed by a quiet gasp from Donnie, tells me I'm wrong on that thought.

I run ta his side in two long strides. A glance over at Mike, at the longing in his eyes to rush over to the newly opened door and see his oldest brother, tells me he wants to do the same, but he holds his position as look out. Atta boy.

Don is pulling a penlight from his ever-present duffle bag. Shining the light around, we take in the tiny, blank, freezing, pitch black room. Then my eyes lock onto the slumped form of my big bro in the corner, a length of heavy chain connecting the hands restrained behind his shell to the floor with almost no room to even move. His glassy eyes half open, their unfocused stare at the far wall broken only by the occasional blink.

Oh Fearless, what did they do ta ya?

Don and I kneel down beside him. With a twist of one sai, the chains are broken. Don's checking his injuries. Notice I said 'checking them' not 'checking for 'em'? Yeah. He's got some to spare. I don't wanna look, but he's my brother. I have to. "How is he, Don?" I whisper.

Needle marks cover both arms, some with bits of the metal still imbedded in his skin. Great big long cuts decorate his calves and thighs and his chest looks like pieces of his plastron have been pulled off and put back like some egghead Foot scientist had been playin' peek-a-boo with his insides. I clench my fists in anger. He has more bruises than skin. Not ta mention all the burns. And to top it all off . . .

"He's been drugged," Don states, examining Leo's glassy eyed stare.

What was your first clue, genius? Him staring off into space or his complete lack of acknowledgement at us bein' here? I mean, it's Leo. He always knows. I wonder at what point they decided to start drugging him; before or after he took down twenty Foot ninja, unarmed, and made it halfway through the building, all with his hands still tied behind his shell.

Never been more proud a my big bro then after seein' 'im bowl over those black clothed punks when they wasn't expectin' it. Not that I'm planning on tellin' him that. And I was on my way out the door right then an' there to bring him home until Donnie, still watchin' the live security cam feed, called me back sayin' he was already caught again. Then we went back ta plannin' our way in.

'Stick to the plan,' as Leo always says.

"I'm slightly concerned about these broken sections of his plastron," Don continues after a moment's thought. Yeah, they concern me too. He pulls out a few rolls of bandages. "I'll wrap them for now, but he should be stable enough to carry."

Well, that's good news a'least.

I gently hold Leo's shoulders, leaning him forwards ta make it easier for Donnie ta wrap up his chest. Lookin' him in the eye, I notice he's no longer keeping his thousand yard stare, his eyes lazily rolling around like they're taking in the room around 'im.

"Leo?" I ask softly. "Hey bro, can you hear me?"

Those dark eyes lock with mine, he blinks a few times, squeezes his eyes shut, then locks them with mine again.

"R-Raph?" It comes out slurred and rough, but I don't care. I smile anyway.

"Yeah, bro, it's me. Mike an' Don 're here too. We're gunna get ya outta here."

A small, weary smile ghosts across his face. "Knew you guys'd come."

"Eh, couldn't leave ya ta have all the fun. 'sides, I'm sick a' bein' leader. That's yer job, Fearless."

He chuckles quietly before a hand falls on his shoulder.

"Hey Leo," Don starts with his own soft smile. "Raph's going to carry you, so why don't you get some rest, okay?"

"I'll rest when we're home." Typical Leo answer.

Donnie looks 'bout ready to say somethin' else, but just then Mikey rushes in soundlessly.

"Three, coming from the right," he informs us, face brightening as he sets eyes on Leo, despite his condition. Mike shuts the door behind 'im, leanin' on it to keep the broken latch closed, then we all hold our breaths 'til we hear the sentries pass down the hall.

I turn back to Leo, who's trying hard as he can to keep his eyes focused on us. Gently as I can, I scoop him up bridal style so as not to stress his plastron, Don helpin' settle him so he's as comfortable as he can be.

Leavin' Leo's would-be prison cell, we make our way to the elevator, Mikey takin' point, Don protecting the rear, all a us cautious and more 'en ready for a fight, need be, to get Leo out'a here.

Once we're in the lift and the doors're securely shut, Donnie pulls out a gizmo – different from the dohicky putting all nearby cameras on a ten second loop to keep us from bein' seen – from his bag to lock the elevator so's we can remain undisturbed in our trip to the basement level. From there we head to the boiler rooms, three of which house a maintenance shaft entrance, which all lead into the storm drains, and from there, through to the sewers.

Five weeks since our brother's been home.

Five weeks Leo's been going through shell.

Eight weeks 'til he's back on his feet again.

Only takes him 'bout two weeks 'til he's back to his usual stubborn self, ignoring Dr. Don's advice to rest, rescuin' Mike when he annoys me, and generally bossin' me around.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Perfectus

Author's Note: Been working on this baby for longer than I would like to admit. Forgot about it a few times, lost sections of it, and finally sat down to really finish it. You could see it as within the same timeline as Shade and Gone Exploring, if you want. Or a standalone in its own right. Anyway, it has been a little while since I posted anything, some things came up and have now been settled, so I thought it a good time to get back to writing. Hope you all enjoy this and that life is treating you well. Love you all! Take care! God bless!

-TheOneThatGotAway99