Chapter Two: Problems & Solutions

5 Months Later...

Raphael snapped his eyes open. He had been in a deep sleep, lucidly dreaming about a girl who was vague in appearance, with long honey colored hair and bright eyes that held his in a seductive gaze. She'd been telling him something, her voice a quite whisper that was lost before he could hear it, seeming to come from far, far away.

Gradually Raphael awakened, straining to hear what the blurred image of the woman was trying to say to him, his face knit in concentration. As the last tendrils of sleep were whisked away, Raphael scowled. He lay there in his bed for a moment, irritated and confused. There had been a noise, he realized. Something that had jerked him out of slumber...

Raphael heard clearly this time the whimper.

Mikey.

Raphael kicked the covers off himself and exited his room, running a hand over his tired face. As he stepped out onto the platform and quietly slid his door shut, he noticed Leonardo poking his head out of his own end compartment, looking questioningly down at him.

"I've got it." Raphael called out in a whisper, waving his arm as if to wave his brother off.

"Thanks." Leo called back, and stuck his head back into his own domain. Raphael padded to the train partition next to him, slid open the door, and stepped inside. Michelangelo was lying in his bed, the covers kicked off of him and his body curled into a fetal position. As Raphael watched him, he saw him kick as if a dog might in his sleep, and whimper again. If he kept this up he would wake up Splinter, who needed all the rest he could get.

Raph grimaced, then went to the edge of Mike's bed and knelt down.

"Mikey." Raphael said firmly, placing a hand over his brother's forehead. Michelangelo's head tossed a little but he did not awaken.

"Michelangelo," He said it a bit louder this time, and shook his brothers shoulder lightly. Michelangelo jerked awake then, sitting up stalk straight in his bed. He was breathing heavily, clearly panicked out of a nightmare.

"Jade!" He called out.

Raphael felt his heart drop in his chest. He stood, stepping into Michelangelo's line of sight and gripping his shoulder. "Mike, it's me," he said, in the most soothing voice he could muster. It was, after all, three o'clock in the morning.

It took Michelangelo a moment to gather his bearings, breathing heavily and staring uncomprehendingly at Raphael before he finally seemed to see him, as if a fog had cleared from his vision. He blushed then, a slight tinge of barely noticeable red in his green cheeks.

"I woke you up… huh?" It was more of a statement than a question, but Raphael nodded and removed his hand from his brothers shoulder.

Michelangelo sighed and pulled his knees to his chest, hugging them and laying his head on his knees. Raphael noticed that his voice was croaky and his eyes were red rimmed, as if he may have been crying in his slumber.

"I'm sorry man." Mikey whispered.

Raphael shook his head, "it's okay bro," he said, averting his eyes and looking around the dark room. "You're fine. I just wanted to check on you."

Michelangelo spoke softly, and Raphael had to strain to hear his words. "I dreamed she was alive," he began. "And that we were out in Central Park, walking, talking…" He paused, taking a deep breath. "And then he showed up… and he had a knife… and there was nothing I could do. He just started cutting into her. And she was screaming and begging me to help her… and I just stood there. I just watched her die…" His voice faded.

Raphael waited a moment before he spoke, looking down at his brother with an unmasked expression of pity.

"Mike, that's not what happened, it was just a dream. Jade… she went quick, and you definitely didn't just stand there when you found her."

Michelangelo flinched at hearing this; Raphael had always been straight forward.

"I know." He whispered. He lay down, pulling the covers up around him. Raphael stood there awkwardly for a moment, feeling as though he'd been dismissed.

"It'll be okay Mike," he finally said down to the unmoving lump on the bed. "... You need anything?"

Michelangelo shook his head. "I'm fine. I won't make any more noise Raph, sorry."

Raphael felt his heart sink even lower, down to the pits of his stomach. He'd never been one who had much of anything useful to say, and he had a feeling that he'd not made his youngest brother feel any better with attempted reassuring words. "Don't worry about it Mikey, just try to get some sleep."

Michelangelo nodded, and Raphael left, closing the door quietly behind him.

"When" he thought to himself as he climbed back into his own bed "When in this gonna end? When am I going to get my brother back?"

The answer, he knew, was one that was disheartening.

Not any time soon.

It was a clear sky and a bright sun that arrived for Amy Spence on the afternoon that followed. The woman, who was known by friends to be reckless, pedaled her bike faster as she went down the incline of a hill, her hands outstretching. The breeze felt wonderful against her skin, which was glistening with perspiration. At the foot of the hill she slowed, her tires skidding as she turned a sharp right into an abandoned alleyway. It was narrow and between two brick buildings, one a very run down two story pawn shop, and the other an apartment building, fully equipped with broken windows and gang graffiti. She braked, leaned the bike against the pawn shop, and removed her helmet. She adjusted the backpack and the duffel bag on her shoulders and bent down to the manhole, which had already been pushed open just a bit so it would be easier for her to pull open.

As she lowered herself down into the sewers, closing the manhole above her, she couldn't help but wrinkle her nose at the intense stench.

"Disgusting," She mumbled, entering her feet into the ankle deep mixture of water and waste.

"Geez Amy" said a voice from behind her, "you'd think after two years you would be used to the cesspit smell."

It was Donatello. She turned and smiled at him, "This place is disgusting Donny, and you know it."

He gave her an all too knowing look, then took the backpack, which was covered with activist buttons, along with the bulky duffel bag that she had awkwardly strapped across her back, and let it hang from his arm.

"Very considerate," She said, in a tone that clearly conveyed that she thought he had ulterior motives.

"You know I need to protect our investment." He replied teasingly, reaching out and poking her shoulder.

Amy smirked and poked him back, "Just as I thought!" she gasped in mock horror.

He looked her over, up and down, before he said, "You've cut your hair."

Amy smiled. She had, in fact, cut her long, black, waist length locks to a short spiky do that was above her ears. She had gone on to have the tips dyed red.

"It was to show off my new tattoo." She stated, turning away from him so he could see the black writing that went across the back of her neck, just under her hairline. It read: Anarchist.

Donatello mouthed the word as he read it, then broke into a wide toothy smile.

"Awesome."

She smiled back at him, "I thought you'd like it."

They talked and bantered companionably the two and a half blocks it took to trudge to the deserted subway that the turtles called home. As they turned a sharp left, Amy mused over the fact that she even remembered that the entrance was here. A cement wall gave the illusion that there was in no way a deserted subway, over a full block of space, behind it. Donatello had admitted to her, very modestly, that he and his brothers had spent almost a month when they had first moved in building the secret entrance, helping further hide the lair. He pulled a lever that was cleverly designed to look like a water pipe, and the brick slid open to reveal the turtle's home.

As they entered the completely renovated subway, Amy was greeted with the immediate smells of sweat, old pizza and incense. Michelangelo and Leonardo were to the right of the room, sitting on the couch watching what looked like MTV cribs (clever Donatello had somehow been able to install cable in the underground lair), and Raphael was to the left, sitting on a scratched and dented kitchen table eating a peanut butter and pickle sandwich.

"That's gross Raph." Amy commented on the moody turtle's signature sandwich, knowing what it was without even having to ask.

Raphael, who currently had his mouth full, gave her the up yours signal with his two hands, his expression never changing.

Amy laughed, "Ah but I can give you the middle finger… because I have a middle finger." She gave a bark of laughter and proceeded to flip him the bird.

"Twit," Raphael mumbled, rolling his eyes and returning to his food.

"Where's the rat?" Amy asked.

Leo looked over, "He's sleeping… you bring the stuff?"

Amy raised an eyebrow, "Don't I always?"

Donatello threw her the duffel and she followed him to the worn couch, unzipping it as she walked.

The contents she began extracting from the bag were worth a small fortune if sold on the streets. She, however, was practically giving them away at a third of the price.

The things she did for friends.

It was medical supplies, stolen from the hospital she worked at in Central Manhattan. As a registered nurse, it did not escape her that she could definitely be looking at some prison time if she was ever caught in the act of thievery at the hospital. She held up an IV bag and waved it a bit erratically and she spoke.

"If any of you," She stated in a harsh tone, "ever cause me to get caught, I expect you to be breaking me out of prison… a lot of this stuff is experimental. And besides that, I already have a record. This would not look good. I have codeine, penicillin, amoxicillin, syringes, quinapril… you said Splinter had high blood pressure... Oxycodone, some stimulants, some tranquilizers… some aspirin." She was bent down on her heels rummaging through the bag and naming off the products as she came across them.

"A lot of samples we just got for new medications. Some bandages, a suture kit, salve, rubbing alcohol and peroxide… not that you'll need it, but a medical dictionary." The last was said in sarcasm.

There was a long pause, and then, "… Did you cut your hair?" Leonardo was squinting at her.

Donatello reached out to grab the bag from a smirking Amy, who snatched it away from him before he got the chance.

"No product until I get paid!" She exclaimed.

Donatello rolled his eyes, "Since when have we ever not paid you?"

Amy shrugged, "It's the principal. Since I'm a "dealer", how would it look if I didn't demand pay from a client?"

There was a pause, in which Don looked at her as if she were from a different planet.

"Who's gonna talk to us… we're turtles Amy, no one even knows we exist. And you don't even "deal" to anyone but us."

Amy faltered at this, true as it was, but seemed to recover quickly, "To keep in practice then… come on, shell it out."

"Oh ha-ha." Donatello heaved a sigh. "The things I do for family," he mumbled pulling out a few bills from a pouch on his belt.

The reluctance on Donatello's face was apparent as they exchanged products, Donny seizing the duffel bag, and Amy practically ripping the cash out of his hands in her haste to be compensated for her trouble.

Raphael watched the deal in silence at the other end of the room. He couldn't help but think that this was a bad idea. He had never been on board with this plan to begin with, but after they had tried it, and it had been somewhat successful, there was nothing he could say. Splinter was better than he had been before the illicit drugs had come there way, although the improvement ill begotten when Raphael factored that Amy could be in serious trouble if she were ever caught stealing from job.

Unfortunately, the options were limited. It was amazing how little there was at the turtles disposal when left without much outside contact. Odd jobs paid for food, theft paid for heat and cable, but there weren't many ways to obtain medicine. Raphael had to grudgingly agree with Leonardo in his assessment that anything that helped there father a fraction of what his condition had been before this arrangement, was good enough for him. And since he could see no other way of getting his hands on the array medicine, they had all been left to look to Amy for help.

The problem for Raphael was that Amy was one of his best friends, next to his brothers and Casey, and he worried about her. She had worked hard in college; he'd met her in her last year and had watched her bent over medical journals, dark circles under tired eyes. Raphael knew that they were jeopardizing her future, and with every exchanged duffle bag he felt his resolve waiver.

His stress was compounded with this worry for Michelangelo. His brother, who they all thought of as the baby, was looking to be in very bad shape. The funeral for Jaden had been over five months ago, and he was still outwardly grieving for her every day. This would not be so bad if whenever any of them would try to comfort Michelangelo, he would become very quiet and close down, or would get angry and yell that they had no idea what he was going through. Which was true enough, but it made Raphael feel helpless. He hated seeing his brother like this, and he had a suspicious feeling that there was more to the hurt and anger that Michelangelo was experiencing. Something else was upsetting his brother, but he couldn't tell if it had anything to do with Jade's death, or if it was something completely different.

Raphael was torn from his thoughts when Amy pulled up a chair and sat across the table from him. She was pretty woman he observed, for what seemed like the millionth time in the last two years of knowing her. Her new hair cut truly suited her, and the new tattoo he had seen when she'd had her back to him was just her style. She had various other body art, including a colorful portrayal of Lucifer's banishment from hell going down her left shoulder and cutting off at her wrist, and a large, blue and red Chinese dragon covering her whole back. Plus, she had a proclamation that she was a "Daughter of Lilith" scrawled in black ink in an arch over her belly button. She had piercing's all the way up both her ears, in her navel, a stud in her nose, and a confidential admission to both her nipples and her clitoris (Raphael had flinched when she'd told him this). Her face, unlike her personality, was soft. Round cheeks, green eyes, and upturned bow lips.

"What's up, grumpy?" She asked, her lip protruding at him as she mimicked a pout.

He gave her a deadpan stare at her use of the nickname.

"Awww, Raphey poo, you know I love you. Don't be such a stick in the mud." She shook his shoulder as she said it.

Raphael heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes. "You know I'm worried about this, about you, Amy."

Amy shook her head at him, "No," she began more seriously, "this is helping Splinter, Raph. You're not going to make me feel guilty for this."

Raphael felt his jaw clench, "You could get into a lot of trouble," he said gravely.

She raised an eyebrow, "This isn't only about me is it? I've been doing this for a year and you've never looked this upset. Spill it, what's up?"

Raphael sighed again, looking furtively around to make sure he wasn't being overhead. "Mikey woke me up again last night," he said finally. "Look at him." He gestured with a head nod towards Michelangelo, who was still slumped down on the couch, but was now proceeding to take several of the prescription strength aspirin Amy had brought with her.

"Well… at least he's kinda happy…"

Raphael raised an eye ridge at her.

Amy grimaced, "Okay, so he's not happy at all. You guys are his brothers, do an intervention!"

Raphael heaved a sigh, "You watch too much TV. And it's not like he's on drugs, and it's not that easy. …He won't listen to us, Amy. And when he's not shut in his room, he's horrible to be around. It doesn't help with you bringing down all these special medications."

He was visibly upset, and Amy's voice was soothing, "Don asked me for a more wide variety of medical supplies and prescriptions. He's really worried about Splinter, Raph. And as for Mikey… well… there are worse things he could be doing than popping a few aspirin."

Raph looked at her for a beat before answering.

"Yeah, I know."

Amy was looking at him very seriously now. "If you're really concerned, then you need to talk to him. I'm serious about that intervention thing. That's what my parents did."

Raph looked at her, a bit surprised and more than skeptical. "Did it work?"

Amy laughed, "Hell no." She stopped laughing when she saw the annoyance and dismay written on Raphael's face.

"Oh Raph, my Dad did it for all the wrong reasons. He was coming up for re-election and he didn't want people to know that a senator's daughter was a liberal, pot smoking, lesbian. I'm happy Raph, I don't need an intervention."

She was smiling, and looked as if she meant every word.

"Okay," He admitted. "You're right, I'll talk to Leo and Don, and we'll try and help Mike."

He then narrowed his eyes at her, "You sure you're gay? You don't want me to test you on the sexual expertise of a male turtle? We are a different species; maybe you just hate human men."

Amy laughed, "Anything with a penis is pretty repulsive, sorry."

Raphael shrugged, "Can't blame me for tryin'."

Amy stayed for a few more hours, playing Scrabble with Donatello and having what looked like a heart to heart with Mikey. It had seemed like they had been talking very seriously about something while they were huddled together on the couch. She'd disappeared into Splinter's chambers for a while, leaving with a small smile. Then she had left, Leonardo escorting her back to the manhole that she had entered in. It had gotten quiet after Amy was gone; she was a definite light in all their lives, breaking the monotony that had become there everyday. It had been years since they had had a real enemy. Shredder was defeated, the Foot was scattered and absorbed into other, lesser gangs, and people like Hun and Baxter Stockman had been long dead- victims of Leonardo's katanas. Life had slowed to a painful crawl; it's meaning becoming more and more skewed as the days lingered on.

Especially with the deteriorating health of their master.

When Raphael had been young, he'd never even thought of the possibility that his father would one day grow old. Not old by age, but rather in health. Splinter always seemed as though he would stay the same, his aging stopped to a healthy, if not wizened state. It hadn't happen quickly, either. The deterioration of their father had been slow. So slow, in fact, that it had taken a while for them to realize what was happening. It was hard now, for their father to move around. He seemed frail now, when in youth Raphael had always seen him as a sort of super being, virile and unbreakable.

He was breakable now, though. Arthritis that would normally be eased with simple operations were impossible for them obtain. Repertory issues that had developed from years of living in a sewer were made all the worse by the continued habitation in said waste pit. In the final battle with The Shredder a sword had barely missed the sensei's heart, and had badly crippled his leg. It had been only Donatello back then to see to their father, and while he had saved him, the damage was permanent. It was as though the Shredder were still with them through these injuries, mocking them in every pained expression they might see on their fathers face.

Finally Leonardo returned, going straight to Splinter's room (reliving Donatello of his vigil). Raphael then waited until Mikey had shut himself into his own room, knowing it was inevitable that his younger brother would not be able to take the company of his kin for much longer. He'd left with barely a murmur to his brothers, seeming as though he'd taken all that he could of sharing space with other people. As soon as his door shut Raphael was then pulling the other two turtles to the secluded dojo, retrieving Leonardo from Splinters bedside to do so. They then had a somber talk about Michelangelo's depression, and Amy's suggestion of a family meeting. In the end they all begrudgingly agreed that trying a new tactic with Michelangelo might be a good idea. Leonardo looked somber, and Donatello looked almost panicked, but Raphael knew he could count on them for this. He was resolved to help his youngest brother, to lead him away from the demons he was facing.

And perhaps, to help him fight them.

Authors Note: Edited 10/30/15 (Sigh of relief. It's so much better now.)