"RAPH!"

Splinter's eyes shot open from his meditation. He gasped for breath, panting hard. His heart pounded in his chest. Shock, fear, and horror clenching their icy fingers around every fiber of his being. He looked around the floor, trying to locate the shell cell his sons had given him. His hand found it and he quickly grabbed it. Opening it, he found Donatello's number and dialled it. His ears fell flat against his head as he listened to the sickening rings.

"Hello?" came the grief stricken voice of his third son.

"Donatello, how many of you are there?"

"Sensei, I-"

"Please. How are your brothers? Are they all safe? And do not lie."

Silence for a moment. Then, Donatello's voice cracked with emotion and Splinter listened as his son broke down into uncontrollable sobs.

"Who's that, Donnie?" he heard Leonardo ask.

"I can't...I can't."

"Hello?"

"Leonardo, what has happened?"

"The mission...was successful. Shredder's dead," Leonardo replied, voice flat.

"And your brothers?"

Silence.

"Leonardo?"

"We lost Raph," Leonardo whispered.

Splinter felt his soul shatter. "Raphael...? How?"

"He didn't get out of the tower in time. He was still inside when the tower self destructed." Another pause. "I'm sorry, sensei. In our victory, we failed."

Splinter couldn't find it in himself to answer, couldn't find the right words. His eyes stung with scorching tears of hurt and loss.

"Sensei?"

"Bring yourselves home, my son. Let us mourn together."

He hung up and closed the shell cell. Splinter bowed his head, closing his eyes against the burning tears. His body started to tremble as he too broke down into grief filled sobs.

The brothers found their father in his room, kneeling before two shrines. They walked into the room, joining Splinter before the two pictures of their fallen relatives. Many tears were shed as they knelt in silence, the candles burning away as the hours ticked by. No one spoke, or breathed a word of any kind. Michelangelo was the first to move. He got to his feet and left the room as quiet as he could. He ascended the stairs to the bedrooms, going first to Raphael's.

He turned on the light, illuminating the cluttered space. Weights and various other workout equipment lay strewn across the floor. Michelangelo stepped over to the hammock and picked up the leather bound journal lying within. He looked up from the book to the punching bag, hearing the ghost of his brother pounding away at the sand filled leather.

Michelangelo glanced down at the book in his hands again. He knew Raphael kept a journal. He had even been granted permission to read some of the entries inside the pages. He ran a hand over the cover, worn with time and age. He smiled at a distant memory, of the first time he had stumbled upon his hotheaded brother's secret. Raphael had been embarrassed at first, but Michelangelo swore to keep it a secret, just between them.

He flipped open to the last entry, yesterday. Before the raid.

I got a bad feelin'. Leo and Donnie are pretty good at this surveillance thing, and they swear that Shredder is up to somethin'. Even Master Splinter is behind them, saying that he had a vision about Shredder spreading his darkness and evil or whatever across the globe and beyond. But, I just can't shake this feeling that something bad is gonna go down. Something bad always does, especially to us. Nothing right has ever gone our way in the past. From Bishop to Triceratons, getting blasted to another galaxy, to almost getting blown up in TCRI. It seems Fate or Destiny or whatever has it out for us. Like we were never meant to exist. I don't know what to call this feeling. Maybe it's just nerves. Tomorrow's the Day. The day we finally take out Shredder once and for all...I just hope we all make it out of there alive.

Michelangelo took a shuttering breath as he wiped at his eyes. "He knew," he sobbed. "He knew something was going to happen. Why didn't he tell us?"

"Mikey?"

He looked up to find Donatello standing in the doorway. "I was just...uh...I was..."

Donatello blinked and fresh tears streamed down his cheeks. "I can't believe he's gone."

Michelangelo wiped at his own eyes. "What do you think happened?"

Donatello slowly shook his head. "I don't know," he whispered, voice broken.

"Maybe we could..."

"Maybe we could what?"

Michelangelo shrugged. "I don't know...search the rubble?"

"And look for what, Mikey? A charred skeleton? No one, human or mutant, could have survived that blast."

"At least then we would have a body to bury. We would have closure."

"I don't think I could."

Michelangelo placed the journal back on the hammock. "Well, I am. We owe it to Raph to bring him home."

"And if you don't find anything? If there's nothing left to bring home? What then?"

Michelangelo walked by his brother. "I'll figure that out when I get to that bridge."

Donatello glanced over his shoulder and watched as his baby brother headed for the elevator and disappeared inside. He noticed the journal and walked over to pick it up. He found the last entry and read down through it. His eyes filled with tears anew. He sank to his knees as he broke down once more.

"I'm sorry, Raphie," he choked. "I'm sorry. I-I...I'm so sorry I killed you."

The ruins still smoldered, but at least the humans had dispersed, for now. Michelangelo headed over to the smoking pile of brick, concrete and steel, beginning his tiring search. He rummaged through the wreckage until his hands became too sore to lift another brick. He collapsed to his knees, breathing hard. His body ached, muscles screamed for relief.

"Nothing," he whispered. He turned his eyes to the lightening sky. "No bodies."

He reached back and pulled out his shell cell. He dialled Raphael's number and listened. Then, he heard it. The heavy riff of an electric guitar drifted up from the wreckage. Michelangelo got to his feet and began digging in the place where the sound was coming from. He pushed back one final beam and there, still intact, lay the singing shell cell.

Michelangelo picked it up and held it in his hands, as if he had found something precious. The ringing stopped as it went to voicemail. Michelangelo held the phone to his chest, bowing his head. He knew finding the phone didn't mean anything, but yet, he felt his hopes rise. He raised his head skyward, tears streaming down his face.

"If you're out there, Raph. I'm gonna find you. Even if it takes me years to do it. I will find you. I promise."

A/N: Thank you all who have read and reviewed. I wasn't sure how this story was going to be accepted, since I'm a bit rusty in my writing. But, I'm glad you're enjoying it, at least I hope you are anyway. Thanks again.

Disclaimer: see chapter one