A/N: I was just going to leave Come Morning Light alone and leave it as a one-shot. But, the more I re-read it, the more it begged to be expanded upon. So, I caved and began writing again. Here is the longer version of Come Morning Light: Come What May. I hope you enjoy it.

Note: Instead of completely deleting this story and starting over (since it's only one chapter right now), I rewrote the ending of the chapter and replaced the original. I think this rewrite is a lot better than the first go round. I hope you all think the same.

Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with TMNT or the lyrics of Safe and Sound which will appear at random throughout the story. They all belong to their respective owners. I am simply borrowing.


The tiny flame from the lantern did little to illuminate the dark room. A small, young turtle sat in a chair outside his parent's bedroom. His legs dangled over the edge of the chair, eyes locked on the floor. Beside him, one of his baby brothers began to whimper. The six-year-old hopped down off the chair and went to tend to his brother. The stone floor was cold underfoot. He reached between the bars of the handmade crib his father had built for the triplets and gently ran a hand over the whimpering baby's cheek.

"It's okay, Leo," the boy whispered. "The doctor will cure Mom and Dad. They'll be fine."

The boy looked up when he heard the door to his parent's room open. He hurried over to see who was coming out, hoping that it was one of his parents. Sadly, it was the doctor. The aged crocodile had a worn look on his face.

"Are my Mom and Dad going to be okay, doctor Leatherhead?" the boy asked, still holding on to hope.

Leatherhead shook his head. "I am sorry, little one. I did all I could, but the plague was too great."

"They're..." The boy's breath hitched. "They're not...Will they wake up?"

Leatherhead bowed his head, kneeling down to look the boy in the eye. "Not in this life, little one," he confessed.

No one. He had no one. His parents were dead and he was all alone, and with three babies who hadn't even grown into their shells yet. At that moment, Leonardo began to whimper again.

"Michelangelo, is there anyone I can bring you to?" Leatherhead asked.

Michelangelo shook his head. "They're all gone," he whispered. "The plague took them." He looked up at the doctor with tears filling his bright blue eyes. "Doctor, what's going to happen to us?"

"I don't know, child," Leatherhead replied, honestly. "Perhaps, I can bring you to a Children's House."

Michelangelo shook his head, tears streaming steadily down his face. "No!" he declared. "I won't let us get torn apart. I won't leave my brothers alone."

He hurried over to the crib and put his hands on the bars. Leatherhead stood up.

"Michelangelo, you cannot stay here by yourself," he said.

"I can and I will," the boy proclaimed. "I'll make it work. I promised Mom and Dad that I would look after Leo, Raph and Donnie. I promised I would never let anything happen to them. And, I'm going to keep that promise."

"Michelangelo," Leatherhead started.

"Just leave," Michelangelo demanded, squeezing his eyes tightly closed. "Leave us alone."

Leatherhead sighed. The boy was stubborn for only six years. No doubt a trait he had inherited from his father. The doctor went to the front door and opened it. He motioned for the men who were waiting outside to enter. Michelangelo never opened his eyes as he listened to the sounds of the men taking his parent's bodies away.

"Michelangelo, I can't, in good conscience, leave you and your brothers here alone," Leatherhead said.

"Well, you're going to have too," Michelangelo told him. "Because we're not going anywhere."

"They'll come for you," Leatherhead tried to reason. "They'll take you to a Children's House."

Michelangelo opened his eyes, his brow furrowed deeply with anger and determination. "We're not going anywhere," he whispered, his voice almost like a growl.

"Doctor, we're ready," one of the assistants said.

"I'll be back for you," Leatherhead told Michelangelo.

The boy watched the doctor and his assistant leave. The door closed and he was all alone. He looked down at his brothers. They were all awake and looking up at him as if asking him what they were going to do. Michelangelo reached through the bars and ran a hand over Leonardo's forehead.

"I hope you can forgive me for what I'm about to do," he whispered.


An hour later, Leatherhead walked through the door to find the crib empty. He hurried through the house, but there was no sign of any of the turtle brothers. He found Michelangelo's room. The bed clothes had been stripped and torn. Leatherhead exhaled heavily, running a hand over the top of his head.

"Michelangelo, what have you done?" he breathed.


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