A/N: I considered moving some bits of this chap around, but I like events in the order they appear, so... here ya go. Let me know if you like/don't like the way I've done this, switching from one POV to another. Sorry, another cliffy. Or not sorry, whatever. heh

And Leo, don't worry, everybody pronounces it wrong. It's the first clue someone's not from the area. You should hear what they do with "Apalachin". LOL

Thanks for reviewing!


Chapter 9 -Kidnapped-
~~~

"Be careful, guys."

"We will, April. Don't worry."

"Leo, you can't leave me here!" Michelangelo practically danced with frustration.

"Mikey, your arm isn't healed. And besides, who's going to guard the Lair if we all go upstate? And what if Raph comes back? He might need help, medical attention. Somebody's got to stay here."

"You just don't want to ride wit' Mikey in da van fer six hours, do ya?" asked Casey in a stage whisper. Leonardo looked into the blue eyes peering into his through the window of the rented van.

"It's not true, Mikey," he said soothingly. Yes, actually, it is. "We need you here, bro."

"Ok." Michelangelo's defeated look almost changed Leonardo's mind.

Don cleared his throat. "Well, we've got to get rolling."

Leo shot his brother a grateful look. "Yeah. We'll be back before you know it, Mikey."

"Ok, guys. Be careful."

"Don't worry, Mike. We'll be ok," promised Leonardo. He tried not to watch the blue eyes staring after them in the rear-view mirror as they pulled away.

"So, how come we're drivin' dis hunka junk?" asked Casey. "Why didn't ya just bring da Battle Shell?"

"Do you think it might be a little conspicuous?" asked Don sarcastically. "We want to blend, not have every redneck hick in town trying to hunt us down."

"Hey! I resemble that remark," groused Casey.

Leonardo rustled the paper unnecessarily as he turned the map, searching. "Don, are you sure this is the right way? I think we should've taken that exit back there…"

"I'm sure, Leo," said Donatello. "I planned the route carefully. This way is shorter. That exit takes us ten miles out of the way."

"But this will take us straight through this little town," complained Leonardo. "O-weg-o... We're trying to avoid people, Don."

"It's pronounced 'O-wee-go', Leo. We're trying to find Raph. Besides, it's a little town, and we're not stopping. The windows are tinted. As long as we avoid drawing attention to ourselves, it'll be fine."

"Which is why we didn't bring the Battle Shell, I know," said Casey. He leaned back in the seat and stared out the tinted window. "Man, six hours, huh? I don't suppose you brought any decent tunes?"

"Oh, no," said Donatello under his breath. "I am not listening to Casey's music for six hours."

"Don't worry, Don. I asked April to get us one with a broken CD player," said Leonardo calmly.

Donatello laughed. "Good thinking, bro."

Casey scowled. "I ain't gotta come, ya know. I could stay here in my nice apartment an' listen ta CD's all day."

"What, and miss all the fun, Casey?" Leonardo needled.

"Nah. I guess not," said Casey. "I can't leave my best bud hangin' out in da middle o' nowhere."

The thought of Raph, injured and alone, in the upstate wilderness, sobered them. They drove in silence for several hours.

"Leo, you do realize this could be a wild goose chase, don't you?" asked Donatello quietly.

Leonardo scowled. "No, Don. We're going to find Raphael. We're going to bring him home. I'm not going home without him."

No one spoke again for a long time.

***

April sighed, walking through the sewers with a silent Michelangelo. Usually she would have thought the quiet was a welcome respite from Mikey's constant chatter, but the slump of his shoulders and the dullness of his usually sparkling blue eyes were heart-breaking.

"They'll be back in a couple days, Mikey," she said softly.

"I know."

"They'll find Raph."

"I… I hope so, April."

Without warning, he stopped short. April turned, startled. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." His voice was choked, and he sniffed. April's eyes widened with understanding.

"Oh, Mikey." She wrapped her arms around him, drawing him close to her. Michelangelo yelped, flinching, and April remembered his arm, an instant too late.

"I'm sorry, Mike!" She let him go, but his good arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her against his plastron. His face pressed against her shoulder. April gently put her arms around his shell, careful to avoid his injury.

"'s ok," he whispered. She stood that way, holding him close, for a long time. Finally he released her. He wouldn't meet her eyes, and she saw red creeping up his cheeks. She touched his arm, and he glanced at her.

"Come on, Mike," she said. He gave her a wan smile, and leaned into her slightly. He let her lead him through the sewers, toward home.

***

"Move that junk outta da way!" yelled Hun. "Those cases will be here in two days, you morons. We've gotta have room ta store 'em!"

"Sir."

"Whatdaya want, Sullivan?" The mountain-man spun to face the Dragon who dared interrupt his tirade.

"The vigilante and the turtles were seen leaving town in a van."

"Really? Perfect." Hun grinned. "They're still searching for their missing brother. Have there been any reports? Any sightings?"

"No, Sir."

"Good. Maybe we're finally rid of Raphael." He spat the name.

Sullivan shifted, balancing on the balls of his feet, as if preparing to dodge a blow. Hun knew that stance. It usually indicated the person was about to deliver bad news.

"What?" he growled.

"Well… It's just… only two turtles were in the van. Our guy said the windows were tinted, so he couldn't be sure, but he didn't think the other one was with them." Hun swore, and Sullivan flinched, but to his credit, didn't run.

"Nothing can go wrong with this deal," growled Hun. "Do ya hear me? Nothing!"

Sullivan returned his glare calmly. "What if we… created a distraction of our own?" he suggested smoothly.

"Whatdaya mean?"

"Well, the disappearance of one member of their team seemed to send the turtles into a panic. What if someone else, someone close to them, were to disappear? What if we had… a bargaining chip?"

"What do you have in mind, Sullivan?" Hun's eyes narrowed. The man smiled. This should be worth a promotion.

"April O'Neil."

Hun stared for a moment. Sullivan's confidence began to waver. He wondered if he'd just made a grave miscalculation. Suggestions which were deemed less than worthy by the boss could prove hazardous to one's health. Then a smirk spread across Hun's face.

"You know what, Sullivan, you might have an idea there. Yes. In fact, I'm putting you in charge of the operation. Bring the O'Neil woman to me. We'll keep her until after the deal is done. A little insurance. Yeah, that's a great idea."

"You've got it, boss," said Sullivan, allowing himself the tiniest of smiles. If this went well, he'd be rewarded he was sure. Maybe Hun would even let him keep the O'Neil woman around for a while, as a reward. Sullivan's smile widened. Yes, good ideas were always rewarded.

"Go. Now," said Hun. "Take whoever you think you need." Sullivan nodded. He turned on his heel and headed out into the darkening city.

***

April sat through two horror movies and encouraged Michelangelo to eat a second piece of pizza. He sat, dejected on the couch, and refused. April reached out and touched his forehead, checking for a fever. He felt normal, but he turned his head away from her hand, annoyed, in a completely un-Mikey-like gesture. He's acting more like Raph than himself, thought April.

"Michelangelo," she said. He glanced at her. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, April." Mikey sniffed. "I'm ok. I… I just miss the guys, ya know? I… I miss Raph." The last was so near a whisper, April almost didn't hear.

"I know, Mikey. I'm worried about him, too," she said, reaching out and taking his hand in hers.

"I ain't worried!" said Mike quickly. "I mean, Raph's tough. He can take care of himself. He's fine."

"I know he is," said April quietly. "Remember that time Hun had him for over a week? I don't think there was an inch of him that wasn't bruised, but he was up and beating up his punching bag in two days. He's amazing."

"Yeah. And he kicked the shell outta Hun the next time we went out," said Michelangelo, smiling at the memory. "I don't think Hun knew what hit him."

"He's going to be ok, Mikey. They'll bring him back," said April softly. Michelangelo nodded. April pretended not to notice the stray tear that trickled down his cheek.

"It's gettin' late. You want me ta walk ya home, April?"

"No, Mikey, that's ok. It's only a few blocks from the warehouse," said April. She smiled as the orange-banded turtle yawned. "Why don't you get some sleep?"

"Leo'll de-shell me if anything happens to you," protested Mikey sleepily.

"Mike, I'll be fine. Go to bed," insisted April.

Michelangelo stood up. "Nah, I should walk ya home," he said, his words slurring with exhaustion.

The injury and all this worrying about Raph is really taking its toll on him, thought April. He's half-asleep on his feet.

"Come on, Mike," she said softly, taking his arm. She led him up the stairs, and to his room.

"I'll walk ya home, April…" Michelangelo mumbled. April shook her head, smiling, and pushed him down on the bed. She gently pushed his shoulders back, making him lay down on the pillow. Tenderly, she slipped his mask off, and hung it on the hook above his bed. "Walk… ya…home…" His blue eyes fluttered closed.

"Get some sleep, Mikey," whispered April, pulling the blanket up around his shoulders.

She tiptoed out of the Lair, careful not to disturb Splinter. She knew he'd insist she not walk home alone, either. These guys worry too much, she thought. Good grief, I've lived in this city my entire life. I can walk a few blocks by myself.

She pushed the button for the elevator, and waited while the massive steel door slid open. She stepped inside, and in a few moments was on the street, heading home. April had gone only two blocks when she heard the noise. It sounded like someone walking… Someone… following her. She picked up her pace, glancing nervously over her shoulder.

A man was walking on the street, half a block behind her. He was wearing blue jeans and a white tee-shirt. April frowned. Was that a tattoo on the man's arm? She picked up her pace, but he didn't speed up or try to catch up with her.

Relax, O'Neil. He's just walking home, just like you. Not everyone in the city is a mugger, she told herself. Still, she clutched her bag closer, and mentally reviewed the self-defense techniques Leonardo had been teaching her. I'll feel better as soon as I get to my apartment building… Maybe I should've let Mikey walk me home after all. I didn't realize how much I depend on the guys to walk me safely home after dark, she mused.

April was so focused on keeping track of the man behind her, she was completely unprepared for the arm that shot out of the space between two buildings, catching her across the neck and dragging her into the shadows. A hand clamped over her mouth, cutting her scream short, and more hands caught at her wrists. To her horror, someone grabbed her knees, hugging them tightly and lifting her off the ground.

A cloth binding was tied over her mouth, and ropes were wound snuggly around her wrists, knees and ankles. Within moments she lay bound and helpless on the pavement. April squirmed, wriggling against the bonds, but it was no use. She was trapped. She stared up with wide green eyes at the men surrounding her. Purple tattoos showed under several shirts. One man leaned over her, smiling.

"Good evening, Miss O'Neil." April had only an instant to stare into his cold, colorless eyes before something struck her hard on the back of the head, and the world was plunged into darkness.