Author's Note: Aww, you people and your wonderful reviews! You put me in a good enough mood to update next day. Thanks to kyt for her lovely spamming! Back to normal chaps here; after this will come another interlude, and it will not be a short one, either. For all you Mikey fans, enjoy! As for the Raph fans... for this first part, I just imagined Raphael fixing a motorcycle while chewing on a lollipop stick with Korn's "Twisted Transistor" playing, and it was hot. So I wrote it.

When Raph had still been allowed to work in the shop during the day, Michelangelo enjoyed coming home around noon in the van, pulling into the warehouse. Raphael would have already put up the "Out to lunch" sign, and Casey would be at the front of the shop, doing diagnostics. Golden sunlight would fill the warehouse from high, dusty windows. His brother would be at the back, heavy metal blasting while he fixed a motorcycle, chewing meditatively on a lollipop stick out the side of his mouth. Around noon, he usually had Korn playing, and wouldn't notice his younger sibling's eyes.

Mikey would watch him, watch his brother lost in the music, focused on the engine in front of him, and would wonder what he was thinking. The Nightwatcher cycle gleamed in the corner. Finally tired of not being noticed, he'd slip into some joke about axle grease or head-pounding music that would make Leo want to throw something through a window, and his brother would snap his eyes up at him, smiling.

The point, Mikey supposed, was that Raph was cool—and that somehow made him excusable where Leo and Donnie might not be. Mikey wanted his approval and had no way of attaining it. He was a clown

He probably thinks I'm a joke. And not a very funny one, either, he found himself thinking. His brother was the Nightwatcher.

His brother was the Nightwatcher.

All that time spent idolizing, Raph's little remarks, enjoying his secret.

I would've understood if he'd told me.

Korn continuing to play, Raph wiping the axle grease from his hands.

I wouldn't have told Donnie. He knew I wouldn't.

Some part of him realized Raph didn't know—Raph and Leo had always been in the next room, somewhere else. Fighting, exploring. Searching. While Donnie and Mikey sat and invented and drew and ate pork rinds.

But Mikey would push regret from his mind, push blame somewhere else. Raphael should've known.

Then Raph would turn off the music and give him a small smile.

"Goin' home for lunch? Gimme a sec, I come with."

And forgiveness, laying over that rough spot in his heart a varnish of excitement. Because, after all, his brother was cool.

His brother was the Nightwatcher.

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Leo looked over the roof, scanning the streets for two turtle figures and a little girl. The night was not going well. He and Donnie had separated from their younger brothers, with Donnie holding a bulky pile of clothes from outside the Goodwill, leading the Foot on a wild goose chase while Raph and Mikey had escaped with Lizzie through the alleyways. Unfortunately, only Raph knew this part of Manhattan well enough for such a diversion—Leo had no idea where Raphael would choose to hide himself and thus did not know what he should steer clear of. To make matters worse, the Foot had fallen back five minutes earlier, and now he and Donnie stood on the rooftop, alone.

"They're not answering their cell phones," Donatello murmured, obviously staving off worry from the edges of his voice. "I activated the tracker on Raph's, but he still has it disabled from his Nightwatcher stunts. Mikey's is powered down—probably still off from his gig earlier. Do they have to be so irresponsible about the simplest things?"

Leo allowed himself a smile; when Don worked himself into a nagging groove, he sounded worse than his older brother. "Relax, bro. Raph knows this part of town—if anyone can get Liz away from the Foot around here, it's him."

"Oookay, except that the Foot are fighting dirty with long-range, highly poisonous weapons and overwhelming numbers." Don said this part aloofly; when he spoke again, his voice was low, tinged with something Leo couldn't quite pinpoint. "Not to mention he's already lost control once tonight."

Leo's smile grew larger on one side, humorless. "I don't think he meant to do anything different than what he did. Rather clean break, actually. More or less… perfect." He could feel Donatello's eyes burning into him.

"What about your Bushido, big brother? Didn't you always try to teach us the way of the true warrior?" Donnie's question was cold, working furiously at his cell phone to find their brothers.

Leo continued to survey the street. "Warriors kill, Donatello. If a man with poisoned weapons takes a child away from people who are protecting her, knowing that he is taking her somewhere where she is in grave danger, then he should accept death as a possible risk. It was a clean break, Donatello—a ninja killing. In his fury, Raphael is capable of worse."

Donnie bit down on his tongue, unable to stop the words. "Didn't he sound like an animal to you? The way he screamed?"

Leo glanced at him; as he spoke to Donnie, he could feel the disdain as it slipped out in his words and through his eyes. "Taking a life isn't like the movies, Don. You can't aim and shoot, and blow smoke off the gun, like some cowboy. The first time, you may be callous, thinking it'll be easy. But after that—the second, third, tenth time—you know what's coming. And it doesn't get any easier… until you're a monster. And monsters don't scream in rage and pain when they have no choice but to take a life. Monsters don't sound like animals, Donatello. They sound like people—cold, calculated, and calm, when they point and click and kill. So be careful, when you pass judgment on your brother." About what you cannot begin to understand.

Donnie shook his head. "Master Splinter… he would have prepared us for this."

Leo finally turned around fully. "There is no preparing for it. This is the rest of your life you're looking at, little brother. You will kill. It's harder to kill with the bo staff, but one day, you'll find you have no choice. That day has already come for your younger brother, and passed, a long time ago. Neither you nor I were there for it, and there will be no way I can protect you either when it comes around. It might even be today—but like the day of your own death, accept that it will come."

Donatello's eyes faced him with fear, unused to seeing his elder brother in this way—forceful, frightening, nearly a Master, through the veneer of stretching youth. Less than a half-hour ago, Leo had been exchanging childish insults with Raphael; now a veil rested between them, Leo and Raph on one side, Mikey and Don on the other. It didn't feel real—Donnie couldn't look down at his blunt, protective bo and see it as an instrument of death, no matter what Leo or Master Splinter tried to teach him to the contrary. They could make him memorize ideas, but they could not change his vision of the world. Donatello's mind was a well-oiled machine, and hard to break or influence. Even in the worst of battles, he had always knocked out his enemies, rather than inflicting mortal harm. He supposed this might be different, if he wielded a blade. Yes, the blades were part of it. Appropriate that Leo and Raph had come to that day sooner than he and Mikey. Blades and steel thirst for blood, similar dirt-taste in the mouth. Different from simple wood. Different. He, Donatello, was not an instrument of death. He, Donatello, would not have to kill if he didn't want to.

"Those Foot are a few blocks over—I just saw a bunch of birds disturbed," Leo said over Donnie's thoughts. "Circling around, to get the drop on us. Or else they've spotted Raph and Mikey. Either way, we better preempt them."

Raph pulled Mikey back, avoiding the light from a trashcan fire, where a couple of the street brats were warming their hands, and stayed in the darkness of the alley.

"Better not. Homeless teenagers can be nuts, bro," he warned.

Mikey leaned against the wall beside his brother, and let Lizzie down onto the ground—she went close to Raph, gazing out at the street in obvious curiosity, drinking in everything she saw, while Raphael patted her head, silently reminding her not to move too far out.

"You know this street?" Mikey asked, sounding too blasé. He was nervous, and off-kilter. Trying to reconcile two things in his mind, and looking for new paths with which to do so.

Raph answered while keeping an eye on the street kids, and another eye on the rooftops, waiting for movement. "Yeah. Used to these streets. When I—well, when I needed info, ya can usually count on this bunch t' have the down-low. They thought I was the shit, anyways. Didn't hassle 'em."

Mikey's eyes were wider than he intended them to be. "Thought you said they could be dangerous?"

Raph half-grinned. "Well, so c'n I. They're protective—got their turf an' their crowd an's long as ya don't step on their toes, they're pretty cool. Ain't got a home; what was I gonna do, give 'em more trouble fer tryin' to stay alive?"

Mikey frowned. It hit him as almost funny that he'd spent the time Leo was away with upper-middle class unhappy kids, while Raph had spent some with the lowest class possible. Street pigeons. His brother could go pitch black, and still be who he was at nine, somewhere deep down.

"There's no place for any of 'em?" Mikey pressed. He supposed he knew, but Raph's answers somehow never failed to surprise him.

Raphael snorted, slow to disappoint. "Street's better'n foster care for some teenagers. No one wants 'em by now. Spoiled goods." His voice came out bitter and harsh, and Lizzie's eyes snapped up from her observation as he said it. "Suppose you might not know it after watchin' all those rich uptown kids, Mikey."

Mikey sensed cynicism creep into his small answering smile. "You'd be amazed. They might be fed—but doesn't really seem like they're all that better off, ya know?"

Raph looked at him, then back at the street. "Guess it's possible t' live in a house and still be homeless."

Michelangelo opened his mouth to answer, but froze, as a very coherent voice breathed out, strong and quiet, from Lizzie's mouth.

"Or not have a house but not be homeless, because you have people who can be your home. Right?" She glanced up, first at Raph, then at Mikey. She was not observing, hard and stoic, as usual, but sending ideas and messages with her eyes—rather than steel-gazed, she had a tentative look, receptive but oddly, wonderfully, like that of a ten-year-old. Mikey's jaw dropped, but Raph did not let his amazement show.

"Yeah. Somethin' like that, I guess," he said, smiling. A moving shadow caught in his peripheral vision; both his and Mikey's heads snapped in the same direction, towards a roof across the street. "Too thin to be Leo or Donnie," Raph observed. "This is a through-alley. C'mon!"

Donnie and Leo threw each other easily from roof-to-roof, silent, easy partners, able to work together without thinking about the process, rendering the previous conversation as non-detrimental as possible. As they landed on a particularly high roof, Leo skidded in only to slide backwards on his shell, away from a line of quick-thrown shuriken. Donatello helped his brother to his feet, and they stood back-to-back, weapons drawn.

"Poisoned shuriken. This is beyond bad," Donnie muttered, waiting for movement. Leo almost answered him, but a strong, Japanese-accented female voice interrupted.

"Leonardo-san. It is an honor to meet you again. And you, Donatello-san."

"Karai," Leo muttered under his breath; in a swath of black cloak, removing her red mask, the leader of the Foot clan landed before him; from surrounding roofs, the shadows of her guard stood at the ready, melding and separating from penumbra. Her face was composed, impassionate.

"I will not go further in pleasantness, Leonardo-san. Your otouto-chan has killed one of my elite—I will not feel badly for returning the favor."

Leo winced at her titling of Raphael, Karai's underhanded ways of insulting his leadership and his brothers. "Your retainer accepted the terms of his mission, I assume? Or did you think my brother wouldn't kill to protect a child?"

Karai was unaffected. "We have no interest in hurting or killing this child. Death is not necessary, Leonardo-san—but it is a direction I am willing to pursue. Observe." She nodded to the ledge to Leo's right.

Simultaneously, cautiously, he and Donnie moved to glance over.

Raph had the distinct impression that the Foot were herding them to somewhere very specific; he ducked a volley of purple-tipped shuriken, pushing Mikey's head down further with him, compulsively. Raphael dropped the manriki weights into his hands, feeling the chains snake down coldly on the outside of his forearms. He stopped them, allowing the Foot a few more steps, as they came in from both directions of the through-alley. He glanced at Mikey, who half-grinned, and ducked, just as Raph whipped the chains out in two half-circular motions, opposing directions, Yin and Yang from his back and front. The front line of both groups fell, as the weights crushed cheekbones, broke noses, gave concussions, removed teeth, fractured jaws.

Mikey let Lizzie down, and she pulled out her shinaii, standing between their two shells. On one side, Mikey whirled his nunchaku—on the other, Raphael swung the manriki, keeping one group at bay while his brother dealt with the other, picking off members of both sides, with parallel whirlwinds of doom.

Leo and Donnie watched their brothers back closer together in the alley right below them—as though contrived, placed there in order the entice a reaction out of the elder siblings. They kept their faces impassive, even as Mikey ducked down again, when Raphael was forced to send the manriki out in continuous circles, just to keep the wave of foes at bay in the small, hard-to-escape space. The only way out would be a smaller alley between the buildings across the street from Donatello and Leonardo, which ended at a very high wall.

Karai's voice continued. "They are all armed with poisoned weapons and shuriken, Leonardo-san. They are ordered to keep the shuriken at bay, because I sense we can avoid killing your brothers. They would sacrifice themselves—but you could convince them to give up the girl to you. Then you and Donatello-san shall bring her to me, and I shall spare them." She looked at Donnie. "You are both o-nii-san, ne? Protect your brothers. It is all that you can do."

Donatello closed his eyes. His rational mind screamed in a loud cacophony, blinding him with thoughts and conflicting ideas. Oh, to give up that mind and memory to the Foot and a woman like this, who would kill her when her use was up—and he knew his idiot little brothers, foolhardy and emotional, who would jump in front of a few hundred poisoned shuriken for some little girl, not out of honor, but from their hearts. His own heart beat out something constant, but also contradictory.

Mikey, showing him a drawing of himself as an old crazy scientist, laughing at his expression.

Raph, coming in with a microwave for him to take apart, not waiting around for a thanks or for acknowledgement, just wandering off stoically to do the dishes.

Mikey, jumping up and down with plans for a jet-powered engine for his skateboard that made little sense at all, a wide smile as he waited eagerly for Donnie to get home.

Raph, taking the budget and coupon book deftly out of his hands with a small smile, doing it without ever nagging him or nudging him or making it seem he'd done him a huge favor—which he had.

Mikey, reading comic books upside down on the couch.

Raph, polishing his bike while heavy metal beat in the background, smiling a secret smile. Like always.

Mikey, turning around in dizzying circles, with Lizzie on his back.

Raph, taking a fake beating from a spiked stick and trying not to laugh.

Lizzie, offering Donnie a marshmallow and a stony-faced thumbs-up.

Lizzie, measuring out exact cups and tablespoons, helping him make breakfast.

Lizzie, making his brothers grin and laugh and run, and go on huge tangents about Star Wars and horror flicks and killer pizza, and act like…

Lizzie making his little brothers act like his little brothers, again, once again. At last.

Donnie closed his eyes, shutting out the sight, but not the sounds.

Raphael screamed, beating back the encroaching, odd-smelling blades, using the sheer length of the manriki to keep them as far off as possible. The bisento chopped at the chains constantly as they swung by, waiting for the moment, that off-chance, of just the right impact. They had time to kill. The turtles and their young charge couldn't go far.

One adventurous ninja jabbed a spear in towards Lizzie, as though wondering what the reaction would be—Mikey wrapped his nunchaku deftly around it, and yanked it away—he considered throwing it right back in the ninja's face, but remembered the blades were all poisoned. Some misty part of his brain, far back, wondered if Raph would have thrown it anyways. He shook the thought off.

Just as he did, Raphael grabbed the spear from him, and Mikey gave him a wide-eyed look—instead of throwing it at the offending Foot, however, Raph threw it into the brick wall above the small alley to their right. It quivered as it dug into chinks between the bricks, but held firm.

"Grab Lizzie, jump up, and swing over their heads into that alley, Mikey. I'll follow ya—I just can't protect us from both directions much longer!"

"Damn it, Raphael," Leo muttered, watching as Mikey swung Lizzie onto his back and jumped, arcing up into the adjacent alley. Into the clinch. But he could see they had little choice—amazed as they both probably were that the Foot weren't using their shuriken, the other weapons still stood as a substantial threat. Raphael could take a beating with his back up against a wall for a long time—he hated being surrounded, though. In the thinner alley, only a small amount of ninja could attack them at once. Yet along the rooftops above that little alley, more Foot crawled and crept, to stand above his brothers, ready to take them out at a blink from their leader.

"The dishonor of this astounds me, Karai," Leo ground out, dropping the honorific insultingly from her name, and hoping it would not be lost on her.

It wasn't.

"You are different from your brother, Leonardo-san," she said, in a low, slightly offended voice. "Do not act as though you are the same, using his faulty manners because you dislike this situation. I could easily kill them and take what I want. I have respect for you, however, and there is no reason why our groups could not be useful to each other in future. I am giving you the chance to keep this peaceable."

Leo glowered frostily, considering. Master Splinter's voice intruded upon him.

"…yours to protect…"

"Someday they will look to you, Leonardo."

An someone else's: "O-nii-san…"

Flashes. Mikey's grins, blue eyes sparkling bright, charming as he held aloft a handmade comic book. That fire glinting in Raphael's, looking up into the real word, rare rays of light hitting skin that seldom felt the sun.

Glances. The appraising, open look of Mikey's, when he got mischievous and started thinking up the best, meanest jokes for a person. Raphael's opaque gazes that suddenly transmitted sparks, flickers of understanding, dark and electrifying.

Laughs. Mikey's, a troublemaking giggle heard around corners after cellophane appeared on the toilet seat or super glue in the toothpaste tube. Raph's, a little-heard, low chuckle, honest, stoic, sweet, and often surprised.

Smiles. The ready, stapled-on grin of Mikey's that seemed to never leave, almost manic in its constancy. The wondering smile when something real made him suddenly happy, though no one often knew what it was. The instinctual twitch on one side into a defiant, wry smirk for Raph, daring death; sometimes shy, almost indistinguishable, as he watched something his brothers did and never told anyone what he liked about it.

His little brothers, quiet and vigilant, loud and smiling.

"We can't," Donnie said at his back. Leo looked at him steadily.

"We must."

"But—they'll hate us!"

"They'll be alive to hate us."

Raphael whirled, manriki ready, but the Foot ninja did not seem to be following into the slim alleyway. He backed toward Mikey and Lizzie, warily.

At length, the reason for the Foot's lack of attendance came walking into the small space.

"Oh, man—am I glad to see you two," Raph said, relieved, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Leo! Don!" Mikey called out. "Came to get those Foot ninja off our butts just in the nick of time, dudes!"

Raphael paused—he'd been moving forward to give Leo a one-armed hug for the good timing, but saw a strange look in his brother's eyes. "Hey, wh… what's wrong? One a' you injured or somethin'?"

Leo took at deep breath. "We'll have to split back up into teams to get back home. You two look beat—let… let Lizzie come with us now. It'll be easier on you two."

Mikey laughed easy. "You don't sound so good yourself, bro. 'Sup, Donnie? Ya look like someone punched ya in the gut'r somethin'!"

Raphael watched his brothers with a deceptively blank expression, eyes dark and fathomless. Donnie shrunk further back into the shadows to avoid them, but Leo matched the gaze, sadly.

"What's goin' on, big brother?" Raphael asked, directly to Leonardo. "No bullshittin'."

Lizzie, who had been standing behind him and again drinking in her surroundings, went still, but said nothing as yet.

"I'm sorry, Raph… there's no choice for us right now. Either she goes and you two live, or she goes and you two die. You're more use to her alive."

Mikey blinked, taken aback. "Wha—huh? You—Donnie?"

Donnie studied the graffiti-laden wall for moment, obviously fighting something back. At length, he drew his bo. "You can't leave this alley with Liz, Mikey. Just… just do what Leo says."

Mikey's look of shock slowly hardened; very quickly, he drew his nunchaku, and the whirl hit the alley. "C'mon, Raph—we got some sense to kick back into a coupla bros tonight!"

But Raphael and Leonardo remained looking into each others' eyes silently, steadily.

Lizzie taped Raph's arm. "Raphi…"

But Raph already knew; his eyes slowly left Leo's, and tracked upwards to the opening to dark sky between the two building—glints of poisoned steel, dark shadows against the night, dozens and dozens of eyes behind red mesh.

"Mikey… put your 'chuks away," Raph murmured, firmly. Mikey whirled them harder.

"No way! What the heck is wrong with all a' you? She's just a kid!"

"So are you, Mikey," Donnie said, gently.

Raph reached out to slow the nunchaku—as he did so, however, a glint of silver lanced past his hand. One of Mikey's weapons suddenly lost their momentum, hanging in the air, as they all inspected it, wide-eyed. A poisoned shuriken lay buried in the wood, from above, gleaming almost innocently in the dim light, ambient from the New York sky. Michelangelo's expression froze as he gazed at it. Five sets of eyes traveled up the roofs.

"I'm so sorry, Mikey," Donnie whispered.

"Raphael-kun," Karai called, now appealing to the final older brother among them, getting closer to hot water. "Think of your younger brother and give us the girl."

Mikey took hold of Lizzie's arm, bringing her closer to him in case he had to shield her with his shell; Lizzie, however, resisted.

"Listen, you whack-bag—I can't just hand a ten-year-old over t' your scummy organization, ya got me?" Raphael countered.

Leo came forward. "Raph, Mikey—stand aside. Now."

Raph heaved a huge breath, controlling himself with every fiber of self he had, and starting to show it. "Leo, how c'n you trust her not to kill Liz the moment she's got what she wants?"

Leo sighed. "I can't. I can't, Raph. But I have to get you and Mikey through this night alive. This is… this is all I can do."

"No…" Mikey's voice choked. "You hafta have some better plan. Something! C'mon, Fearless Leader!"

Raphael had his eyes on Mikey, blinking, with that falsely blank expression.

"Come, Raphael-kun. Do you wish to know what your brother's body will look like when the poison hits him? It is an ugly, messy death," Karai called, tormenting. Leo had the sudden urge to throw his ninjaken straight through her neck, and surprised himself with the thought.

"Karai! Don't speak to my brother. I'll handle this."

Donnie still felt sick, betraying his closest brother—Mikey, who had kept him company while Leo and Raph had been off, chasing each others' shadows. Curiously, he could feel Lizzie's eyes on him when she said:

"I'll go."

Amazing, how quickly those words silenced the four brothers. Raph choked somewhat, feeling a small sense of panic. Mikey held her arm.

"Hey, kiddo—don't worry 'bout it. We gotcha covered. We're not gonna let anything happen to you." Mikey's voice was small, and sad.

"Don't lie to her, Mike," Raph warned. "We're at the end a' the line. Liz—what if they"—

Lizzie smiled, and tapped her temple. "Can lead a horse to brain, can't make it eat."

Raphael surprised himself—he began to laugh quietly; when he saw his older brothers looking at him strange glances drawn between sadness and pity, he realized he sounded hysterical. Seldom did he feel that he'd failed so utterly—because he really had done his best, had never lost his temper; there was no if, no chance that he could have done things better. And it still hadn't been enough. Mikey's expression was closed; he still had a grip on Lizzie's arm.

A Foot ninja landed deftly beside them, holding onto a chain lowered down by the others. The soldier gestured. Lizzie yanked her arm from Mikey's grasp and hugged him, her little arms going around his big shell, making him blink at her, as in confusion.

"No… you're not goin' anywhere. Stop it!"

Leo's breathing almost stopped; the Foot above them readied shuriken in every hand, at the slightest hint that Michelangelo would really refuse and become a problem. He strode closer, trying to gently pry Mikey away from her, noticing the odd fire growing in his youngest brother's eyes.

"Leo, what are you doing?" he demanded, but Leo continued, unfazed, picking Lizzie up.

"My job, Mikey. The only one I've got."

Raphael's hand stopped him. "Wait…"

Leo paused, then realized why; swallowing a lump, he nodded, and transferred Lizzie over to him, watching as the little girl hugged his brother.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Raph asked her.

She was clear-eyed, and handed him her shinaii. "Not afraid of nothin', Raphi." And then saluted, steel-eyed, making the clench around his heart lighten somewhat. She took Leo's hand, and he led her to the Foot ninja. Mikey tried to move forward and stop it, white fury in his blue eyes—but Donnie was there, materializing at his side, holding him back, and Raph was looking away, a hand over his eyes.

Leo looked at Lizzie one last time. "Thanks—for making it easier."

A stoic thumbs-up. "Not easy." Then she blinked, as though reaching within herself. "I… I'll be okay."

Then Lizzie was gone, and the Foot were gone. Only Karai remained.

"Thank you, Leonardo-san. The Foot owe you a debt of gratitude."

"I don't want your thanks, Karai. I want you to understand what will happen if you hurt that little girl."

Karai sounded as though she were smiling; Donnie had to keep holding Mikey back, now more fiercely.

"She is too valuable to be harmed. Put your fears to rest, Leonardo-san. We shall meet again."

She disappeared, and Donnie finally let his little brother go.

"What the hell was that all about, Leo? We coulda saved her!"

Leo whirled, unused to Mikey challenging him.

"Michelangelo—that was no easier for me than it was for you. She decided to go. You both would be dead if she hadn't."

Raphael took a shaking breath, visibly trying to keep it together. "We can still save her, Mikey. They want what's in her head—they won't kill her until they have it."

Mikey whirled on him—eyes blue murder in the darkness. "And what about you, Nightwatcher? What, you can run around playing hero to a bunch of jerks you don't even know, then Lizzie trusts you and you hand her over? Never thought you were a coward, Raph—but I guess it makes sense. Need a mask to do the right thing nowadays?"

Leo expected an emotional outburst from Raphael, and braced for the impact of fire fighting fire—but the opposite occurred. Raph's face and eyes seemed to shut down.

"Mikey, stop—this isn't like you…" Donnie said quietly. His brother turned, as to unleash some anger at him as well, but couldn't seem to form words. He looked back at Raph, whose face hadn't altered.

"What, no answer? It's your fault we got herded into this dumb alley—your fault they cornered us out there! I thought you knew this area! The almighty Nightwatcher can't even protect a kid, how pathetic"—

"Michelangelo," Leo's voice sounded out; his tone had become remarkably like Master Splinter's. "If you're gonna say things you'll regret, you might as well keep your mouth shut."

Mikey whirled on him. "Screw off, Leo—you're not our father!"

Raphael's face clicked back into life—faster than lightening, he slammed Mikey against the wall, pinning him by the arms. Mikey looked like he was going to shoot something else at him, but paused when he saw his brother's eyes. They had been made dark by a smothered, angry fire that flared into life, pupils squeezed to pinpricks as though under massive pressure. His voice was grim.

"You listen, motor-mouth. You give a damn about that kid, you'll shut your fucking trap and help me get her back. And show Leo some respect, 'cuz he just saved your stupid ass. Ya got me?"

Mikey swallowed, sobered by his brother's quiet anger that dampened his own, and nodded.

"It's getting late. We better get back home, and figure ourselves out," Donnie reminded, gently. He took Mikey's arm and led his brother ahead; they could hear his voice consoling the youngest as he went. Leo hung back with Raph, staring at him. The anger had faded from his brother with the same ferocity and suddenness that it had awakened. He looked tired, and somehow small.

"I'm sure he didn't mean any of it," Leo said, somewhat impotently.

Raphael let out a breath of air, almost a laugh. "Preachin' to the choir, bro. I know better'n anyone people say dumb shit when they're mad. Doesn't mean they haven't thought some of it before, though."

Leo nodded; his voice became a whisper. "You're not pissed off at me?"

"I'm tired of being pissed off at you, Leo. I'm tired of arguin' over every damn thing. I'm tired of letting it toss me around and control me. I can't even remember why I do it anymore." His voice broke. "And I miss that stupid kid."

Leo gave him a wry smile. "Which one—Lizzie or Mikey?"

Raph smiled but didn't answer, so Leo came closer and put his arms around him. He felt his brother flinch and freeze up, but held the gesture until Raph relaxed into it. Leo traced his brother's shell, stopped at the cracks, gouges, the deep, horrible new grooves, fillings of plaster that still held it from caving in. Each one made him pause, his mind and muscles remembering the shell when it was whole, an old pattern, one of the first. Raph returned the hug after awhile, hesitantly. Leo expected it to be awkward, but he was wrong; his little brother held onto his shoulder blades, just before the ridge of his shell, younger for a moment.

"We'll get her back," Leo heard himself say. "Not just you and Mikey. All of us. We'll find a way." He pulled back, not sure at the expression on his own face. Raph watched him.

"You okay?"

It was jarring; Leonardo had the sudden urge to rip the scar off from over his brother's eyes, and return him to who he'd been, years earlier. Another part of him, entrenched in sadness, somehow liked the person the scar made of him, the Raphael he knew now.

A sigh. "Yeah. Let's go home."