AN: Aaand... it's monday again! Not much to say, except that Friday's update will most likely be either one day early or late. I'm moving soon and we have to meet up and get some things done beforehand. And then... D&D! Anyway, the cliffy's not too bad for now, and also: welcome, main character number 5! Great thanks to everyone who reviewed so far. Keep 'em going, guys!

Warning: Extra warning for blood in this chapter. Also, I apologize if I didn't get the infirmary scene right. I'm not a studied medic :3 But thinking about it, neither is Don...

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own.

Edit: Now beta-d!

HITTING HOME

Miyamoto Usagiwas becoming concerned.

The black-clad ninjas had him cornered in what appeared to be a park. In the distance, giant houses were looming up, their windows alight with a yellow blaze that seemed too steady to be candle light. But down here between the trees, the darkness was almost touchable.

There was a lamp-post some way off. It was already flickering from when he'd crashed into it earlier. As he watched, the black steel of a shuriken glinted to his right and the light died with the harsh tinkle of glass on the ground and what looked like a lightning bolt.

The only reason he could see his enemies at all was that their clothes were even darker than the night around them. They reminded him of the assassins at the Battle Nexus, except that these were noisier. And not as skilled.

The rustle of cloth behind him caught his attention. With a swift turn, he placed a well-aimed kick into the advancing ninja's stomach and sent him flying against the nearest tree.

Eleven down, he thought. Now, who wants to be next...

He had to keep on fighting for now. There was no way of knowing where the dimensional portal had sent him. All he knew was that he had been outnumbered by Neko ninja who were advancing at him from all sides. Then the blue glow of a portal had appeared out of nowhere and he'd just jumped through.

Sadly, that did not seem to have improved his situation by much.

"You can't escape, mutant scum!" The shout came from the left. Usagi took off one of his heavy-wooden sandals and threw it. It hit home with an audible crash as the attacker went down. While the samurai hobbled into that direction to receive his shoe, he reflected upon that insult. Mutant. That rang a bell.

We're not Kame ninja. Where we come from, people like us are not the norm. We are mutations, mutants.

This couldn't possibly be second Earth, Leonardo's home planet? He mused over that while he hit another ninja over the head with his shoe and pulled it back on. Then the sound of a sword leaving its sheath demanded his attention, and he spun around, facing his next attacker.

Attackers, the ronin mentally corrected himself. He could make out at least five shapes in the dark, and the sound of hurried feet in the distance. Reinforcements. He gritted his teeth. The odds were against him, and he knew it. But there was no way he could escape. Where would he go?

He took a step back, closer to the line of the trees, and his shoes scraped over metal.

Metal gratings, closing off the tunnels. They are hard to spot, but they can get you pretty much anywhere.

Well, anywhere was surely better than here. The ninja were advancing, slowly, no doubt grinning beneath their masks. Playing with me like the infamous cat with the mouse, Usagi thought grimly. There was no other option.

With a grunt, he gripped the metal grating and pulled. It was heavier than expected, but easy enough to get out of the ground. Something bounced off it and clattered off into the dark, and then he swung his arms in a wild arc, catching someone somewhere, dropped the plate, and lowered himself into the black circle that smelled of damp and water.

His feet found metal at the same time metal found him.

It took all his willpower not to yell when the shuriken caught his side, tore his clothing and buried itself deep into the soft flesh beneath. To use throwing stars in the black of night! How easily the ninja could have hit one of their own! His feet touched the ground and he took off at once, letting his nose lead him along what seemed to be a stream to his left. Every step sent pain up and down his side. Should he pull the weapon out while he was still down here? It didn't seem sanitary, and it would increase the bleeding. But he couldn't keep on walking like this.

The sensation of sudden emptiness signalled a parting side tunnel to his right, and Usagi slipped in and flattened himself against the wall. Sure enough, there were noises, but for now, they were far away and muffled. He pulled off his vest and pulled out the shuriken as slowly as possible. The pain made his eyes water. He used the weapon to tear his clothing apart and then used that as a makeshift bandage. It soaked through all too quickly. He needed to find some place safe.

In the distance, someone was whispering. There were multiple footsteps, coming in his direction.

Usagi toed off his shoes, picked them up and noiselessly broke into a jog.

*T*M*N*T*

Mikey was watching the news because Don had told him to. And Don was not in a mood he wanted to mess around with.

Seeing the genius in this state was always a bit scary. He was all calm and smiles, but there was a strange tension in his eyes, like his nerves were taut as a bow string. Even Raph did not argue with Don when he was in that mood. So Mikey was watching the news. There was supposed to be a storm later, and it was for some reason important to know when it hit NYC.

It was nine in the evening. Leo had woken up about an hour ago to the smell of chicken soup and garlic bread. He had even managed to eat a few bites. But Don did not allow him out of bed. He wasn't allowed to sit up, or read, or meditate. He was supposed to sleep. Of course, of all of them, Leo would be the one not to listen to angry Don. Raph had wisely retreated to the dojo where he took his time fixing his punching bag. The sneaky bastard.

Michelangelo was bored enough to consider taking a brief nap when a sudden howl made him jump three feet into the air.

The sewer alarm, he thought, trying to calm his racing heart. It's just the alarm.

Don came pounding down the steps and flicked the switch that turned off the howling. "What is it this time," he muttered and stomped off into his lab to have a look at the security camera screens. Mikey knew that at this time of night, they would only show green emptiness. He'd been sent out to fix their angle more than once, but tiny earthquakes and nosy sewer rats would dislodge them time and time again.

"It's probably just a rat," he called and forced his eyes back to the news feed. Wait. Idea. "But I'll go and check! Right away! Count on me!"

Don stuck his head through the door and frowned at him. "Not alone," he started to argue, but Raph was already there in the doorway of the dojo. "I'll accompany 'im! No worries! I'm right behind him!"

The genius gave them the sigh of the long-suffering along with the benefit of the doubt. "Oh, fine then. Go. Report back within the next hour or I'll come and kick your sorry shells into the next century."

Seconds later, the door panel slid closed after his brothers.

*T*M*N*T*

Usagi was tired.

He was bleeding and only half-lucid with the pain. His breath came in short gasps. Everything around him reeked of dirt and damp, and he would surely get an infection, but he needed to catch his breath, just for a moment...

There were footsteps, coming closer. His sensitive ears picked up low muttering. More ninja?

He fumbled with the hilt of his katana. Suddenly the weapon seemed too heavy to draw. Maybe after he had a short rest. But he had to fight. He needed to... sit down, apparently. Good. That was a good idea. Maybe they would pass him by...

He caught a flash of green, but then the blackness claimed him and he slipped. The word he had intended to say died away on his lips.

*T*M*N*T*

Raph was not in a good mood when they got back to the Lair.

Mikey had convinced him- how did he always manage it?- to carry the wounded rabbit they found in the sewers back to their home. By now his arms were sore, loose fur tickled in his nose, and to top it all off the stranger was bleeding on him. All the while Mikey was just a few feet behind him, muttering to himself while he examined the weapons and blood-stained shreds of fabric their newest house guest had with him.

The door to the lair opened with a barely hiss and they stepped through into the warmth. It was chilly outside this time of the year. No wonder Leo got a fever, Raph thought as he picked his way through the usual clutter of chairs, books and video games towards the door of the Lab.

"Donnie!"

The genius turtle came out of Leo's room at the sound and leaned over the railing on the first floor to look down at them. "What?" he snapped, visibly annoyed. Then he caught sight of the white bundle in Raph's arms and his chocolate brown eyes widened.

"Usagi?!"

Raphael did not drop the rabbit at the sound of the name, but it was a close thing. He managed to contain himself until the wounded warrior was placed safely on a stainless steel table in Donatello's lab, which also served as an infirmary in times of need. Then the dam broke.

"This! This is Usagi! That guy everybody keeps talking about!"

Mikey peeked over his shoulder, trying to get a glance at Usagi while Donatello was removing the makeshift bandages. They were soaked dark with blood that had already started to clot. Without looking up, the self-assigned medic handed the strips of fabric over to Raph and leaned in to examine the wound. "Mikey, go look after Leo," he muttered, clearly no longer listening.

With a theatrical sigh, the youngest complied. "Fine," he mumbled. "'Cause I am squeamish and all. It's not like Raph's the one who's afraid of needles..."

He dashed out of the room before the hotheaded brother could make a reply.

"Raph, I know you want to shower, but could you stick with me for another while and help me out while I fix this?" Don never said 'heal' or 'stitch up'. He always said 'fix this'. Donatello could detach himself from the person behind the wound in a way that Raph, quite frankly, admired. He suspected it made things easier in case of a loss. Thankfully, they had yet to prove that theory right.

"Sure." He stepped closer. "What'o I do?"

"First thing, move out of the light," Don muttered absent mindedly. "Thanks. Hand me some clippers. Left table, lower drawer, the smaller ones."

Raph found the small scissors and handed them over. He made sure not to block any light sources while he watched as Donnie meticulously clipped away the stained fur around the wound. Then the younger turtle cleaned his hands on the small wash basin at the far wall and disinfected them before handing the small bottle of antiseptic spray to Raph.

"Here. Clean your hands, and then keep the wound open and free of fur while I clean it."

Wordlessly, Raphael followed the instructions. The wound had looked bad from where it had bled on him, but up this close and with everything else out of the way, it was much worse. He could see different layers of muscle tissue torn right down to the bone, already glistening in a sick red again where the tiny veins and arteries were cut.

"Doesn't seem like any organs are injured," Don continued quietly. "Kidneys are okay, that's a relief... I say, let's stitch this up and then see if we can find out his blood type so we can hook him up on something..."

He rummaged around on his desk and came back with a cotton ball and a kind of antibiotic cream. Raph sprayed some of the disinfectant onto the wound and watched in wonder as the muscles around it contracted at the sensation. Then Don's fingers, surprisingly gentle and nimble for someone with such a giant handicap, came into view. Slowly but steadily, he stitched the wound closed. Then he inserted a small drain, smeared a thick layer of cream over the neat row of thread and wiped his hands on a piece of bed linen.

Just like that, they were done.

"You might wanna sit down," Raph suggested with an uneasy glance at Don's pale face. Don sat where he stood, which meant he collapsed heavily onto the floor. Already, he was shaking.

Raph wasn't sure he was up for this the second time today. "Uh, it's fine. Ya did good. He looks all okay to me," he lied. In fact, the rabbit - Usagi, he mentally corrected himself - did not look one bit okay, but he'd be damned if he said that out loud.

"Yeah, right." Don snorted. He got up and took a deep, steadying breath. "Now let's see about his blood type. I got enough samples of that at least. You watch him." With that, he took the blood-stained cloth and his stitching material back to one of his work tables and busied himself with a microscope.

"Watch him," Raph groaned. "Watch for what? Like Leo's not enough of a handful..."

*T*M*N*T*

Upstairs, things had gone pearshaped in the space of five seconds after Mikey had entered the room.

To sum things up, Leo had been half-lucid and talking to himself. So Mikey had jumped over to meet him, a grin on his face. Mistake number one was that he did not take the time to listen to the actual words that were being said. Mistake number two was: never, ever jump a delirious ninja who has spent the last seventeen years of his life training martial arts.

Sadly, it had taken his oldest brother no time at all to wrestle him right to the ground and continue to strangle him. The grip was not too tight, but somehow Mikey found it impossible to break it. Underneath the feverish skin, Leonardo's muscles were like steel bands.

"Leo! Let go!" Mikey croaked, punctuating his words with weak blows against the leader's plastron. Leo's eyes were rimmed red and the heat rolled off of him in waves. With a start Mikey realized that wherever the older turtle thought he was, it was definitely not home.

"I will show you what happens when you attack my family," the grass-green turtle hissed and then momentarily loosened his grip while he heaved through a coughing fit. Mikey started to actually get concerned.

"Raph," he shouted through the open door and when he didn't get a reply, he called again, louder, "Raph!"

Downstairs, Raphael's head snapped up at the sound of his name. Don, who was currently examining Usagi's torso for signs of broken bones, waved him away impatiently. "Go. Get him to shut up."

The family engineer pretended not to see the evil grin that spread on his brother's face while he waited for one of his devices to figure out Usagi's blood type. The way things were going, and they were not going too well as it was, he really couldn't spare brain capacity for whatever nonsense Mikey was thinking up.

Raph made his way upstairs with as much speed as he was able to wrestle from his tired legs. The sight that greeted him when he entered the darkened room was one he had certainly not expected: Mikey lay slumped half on top of their eldest brother, breathing heavily, while Leo was sprawled on the ground, seemingly passed out from exhaustion.

Without much thought, Raph gripped his youngest brother by the shell and threw him through the open doorway. With a yelp, Mikey crashed shell-first into the railing and dropped to his knees.

"Raph! Calm down! I didn't do anything- oh no..."

Before Raph could react, a stick hit him around the head from behind and he dropped like a sack of bricks.

Mikey stared in disbelief at Leo, who was currently holding on to one of their old training staffs like a life line. The older turtle was shaking, his eyes unfocused but slowly trailing down to the slumped figure on the ground before him.

He wanted to protect me, Mikey thought with an air of unreality, and in that moment he was insanely thankful that Leo never, ever aimed to kill but as a last resort, when all else had failed. Raph would be okay. Okay with a headache, but okay. That was... good.

"Leo," he spoke when it became painfully obvious that the self-confident leader had reached the end of his rope. His brown eyes were wide with confusion. Mikey pulled himself up on the railing, preparing to stare the eldest down- or tackle him to the ground again, should the need arise. Or at least he intended to do just that, right until the battered metal gave way under his hand and he felt himself tilt backwards in no position to regain his balance.

Oh, shell-

The sensation of betrayal was the worst of it. There was supposed to be a railing here, but suddenly it wasn't, and now he was falling, tumbling; his eyes squeezed shut and a scream tore at his throat. It wasn't even a great distance to the floor. He guessed that Leo fell harder. Hell, they all jumped down from the second floor as a daily exercise. For some reason, those thoughts did nothing to comfort him.

Then his upper right arm slammed into the gallery bricks, his head scraped against stone, and he felt like someone had tried to rip his shoulder out of its socket and succeeded.

He opened his eyes to find Leo's face inches from his own. The older turtle had a death grip on his arm, holding himself up with the other clawed around the remaining metal bars of the railing. He was breathing heavily, but his face showed nothing but determination. His cheeks were mottled with fever, he still smelled like a sewer, and Mikey thought that he had surely never seen anything this beautiful in his life.

Then Leo's eyes glazed over.

"Oh no. No no no, Leo, let go, I can manage from here- stay with us, bro! Oh, shell..."

Desperately, Mikey tried to swing up to get a handle on things with his free hand. It was no use. He was slipping, but not from Leo's vice-like grip on his arm; more likely, the older turtle couldn't hold them both up anymore. They were both going to drop. And there was no way Mikey would be able to land on his feet and catch his brother.

"Let 'm go, Leo."

Raph's deep voice washed over them and Leo's eyes widened. He clenched his teeth and Mikey clenched his in a joined effort not to scream; then a dark green hand brushed over a grass green one and Raph's face appeared next to Leo's.

"Trust me," he said. "Just let 'm go. Bad weeds grow tall." He smirked at Mikey who was staring at him incredulously.

"Raph, you're such an-"

Then Leo let go.