Donatello opened his eyes and lifted his head. The computer screen in front of him displayed the twisting geometric shape of his preferred screensaver. Preferred, that is, when it didn't happen to be the first thing he saw upon waking. He reached up and turned it off, rubbing his eyes with the other hand as he pushed himself away from the computer.
What the hell am I missing? he asked himself as he walked towards the door. He looked back over his shoulder at the alarm clock. So much for staying up all night.
He walked into the kitchen, glancing towards the center of the room. Leo was sitting in one of the chairs with his arms folded across the tabletop, his face resting on them as he snored softly. Don sat down and nudged him.
"Hey, wake up," Don said as he leaned back.
Leo looked up and rubbed his eyes. "Mmm... what time is it?" he asked.
"Almost 6:30. Did Mikey come back yet?"
Leonardo shook his head. "I didn't hear him come in," he replied, resting his elbows on the table. "Any luck on the computer?"
Don tilted his head. "How'd you know I was on the computer?"
"Aren't you always?"
"Am I that predictable?"
"Yes," Leo said with half a grin.
"Well, I didn't find out anything else. Just that damn warning page."
"No news articles?"
"With the exception of one from four months ago about a guy getting shot there, nothing."
Don looked into Leo's eyes, knowing that he wanted to assemble the troops and go out in search of Michaelangelo. None of them knew where he was or what had happened to him that night three days ago - or why it had so affected him. The only one who would be able to clear any of it up was Mike and so far he had been less than forthcoming. Then, Mike did tend to take things to a much more emotional level than the others did - it could have been something trivial that set off the naive turtle's emotional alarm.
That's what Don wanted to believe.
-
Raphael woke to an abnormal silence and looked at the room around him, trying to adjust his sight past the blur of sleep. He stood, stiff from his night of sleeping on the couch, and stumbled his way to Michaelangelo's room. It was empty.
"Damn," he whispered. "Where the hell are you, kid?"
Leonardo sat at the kitchen table, staring into a cup of coffee that he held tightly in both hands. He looked up when Raphael entered and offered him a half-hearted grin that his brother did not reciprocate. Don was sitting across from Leo and eating an omelet with green specks in it that Raphael hoped was peppers and not something less appetizing.
"Hungry?" Don asked.
"Uh... no. I'll pass." Raph said as he sat down between the others. "Mike didn't come home last night."
Donatello nodded. "I know."
"It's Saturday, isn't it?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Mike never misses his Saturday morning cartoons."
"Maybe he thinks he's getting too old for them," Leonardo said. He could feel the weight of two sets of eyes glaring at him. "Sorry, guys," he said, taking a sip of coffee at long last.
"S'ok," Don told him.
Raphael let out a low growl and Leonardo could tell that his mind was racing - searching for possibilities and coming up with the worst-case scenario. That was what Raph did best - and it wasn't always a bad thing. Sometimes it was the worst-case scenario that actually played out, and Raphael was the one who was always ready for it.
"I'm going to take a shower," Leo said, standing suddenly. Raphael shot him a look that would have killed, had the acerbic turtle been gifted with that ability. "Then we'll go look for Mikey."
Leonardo left the kitchen in a haste and walked to the linen closet, pulling out a neatly-folded towel and then making his way to the bathroom. Five minutes - that was all he wanted: five minutes of peace and quiet under a hot shower. He tried so hard these days to be the best leader that he could be, tantamount to a father figure the times when Splinter was so far away. Sometimes he hated it, but he lived with it. He'd tell himself that there had to be someone they could turn to for guidance, he just wished that sometimes that person didn't have to be him.
Stepping into the bathroom he pulled the light cord, illuminating the small room and making the naked bulb swing back and forth, casting alternating shadows on the walls and fixtures. He tossed his towel onto the toilet tank and glanced quickly at his reflection in the mirror, unwilling to look himself in the eye. He groaned and turned away, stopping when he heard a noise from somewhere within the room; it sounded like breathing. He heard it again and turned towards the sound, walking silently around the tub. The sound of labored breathing grew louder, becoming a wheeze and then a choke. He launched himself around the tub and saw a dark figure cowering on the floor behind the old cast-iron tub.
"Mike..?" Leo asked as he stepped forward and reached down.
Michaelangelo recoiled and slapped Leo's hand away, falling into the light. His face was ashen and frozen in a terrified expression, the front of his coat stained brown with blood that still flowed from his mouth in a clotted stream. He moved himself backwards across the floor until his shell hit the wall then turned his face to the bricks and coughed. Leo slammed to his knees beside him and took hold of his shoulders, pulling him near. Mike fought him away weakly but finally fell into the embrace and looked up into Leonardo's eyes.
"Don!" Leo screamed, cradling his brother. "Raphael! Get the hell in here! Now!"
Mike tried to speak but Leo put his fingers to his lips.
"Ssshh..." he said softly. "Don't talk..."
The door swung open and the other two turtles charged in, Don coming to a sudden stop at the sight. Raphael ran full-steam into his brother's shell, sending them both to the floor in a living heap.
"Get the hell off me," Raph said, pushing Don away. He got his first look at Mike and gasped. "Jesus!"
Mike coughed again, bringing up stomach fluid with specks of blood.
"What the hell happened to him?" Raph demanded, taking hold of Mike's wrist and counting out the slow pulse.
"I don't know," Leo said, his voice cracking. He turned to face Donatello who was rubbing his chin and searching his mind. "Can we help him..?"
Don let out a breath and slid to Mike's side, putting his hand on his brother's head. "He's got a fever," he said, trying to remain as level-headed as possible. "He's burning up... we have to get him cooled down - now!"
"How?" Raphael asked.
Donatello pointed at the tub. "Fill it with cold water."
Raphael tore the shower curtain down and threw it to the other side of the room and then turned on the cold water. Leo rocked Mikey back and forth, trying to keep him calm as the others undressed him. Raph stepped into the tub as it filled to nearly the halfway point, the water was freezing.
"Damn!" he yelled, swishing his legs around, trying to warm them with the movement. The others lifted Mike in and Raph sat down in the icy water, guiding his brother's limp body.
"You don't have to be in there, Raph," Don said, turning off the faucet.
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Ok, then lean him back."
Raphael did as he was instructed, resting Michaelangelo's head on his own shoulder. The others began to pour water over Mike's hot skin, he moaned and rolled his head to the side.
"No... no, hold still," Raphael said in his gentlest tone. He put his hand on Mike's cheek and began to guide his head back.
"Wait!" Donatello touched the back of Michaelangelo's neck softly. "He's been stabbed."
"With what?" Leonardo inquired, noting the small size of the hole.
"Off hand, I'd say a needle." His calm, studious tone did little to hide the worry that lingered behind his eyes. "Maybe with some drug... I don't know what."
Raphael closed his eyes and held his brother near. "Who the hell did this to him?" It was a question that could not be answered, but one that Raphael's anger demanded be asked. He rubbed his cheek against Mike's head and let out a shaky sigh. "Can we help him?" Raphael asked, opening his eyes. "We can help him... right..?"
Don put his hand on Mike's face. "We can try..."