A/N: Thanks to Amonraphoenix and Darkunderworld for beta-ing for me. You guys rock! And thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed thus far. I'm glad you're enjoying the story.

Disclaimer: see chapter one


By the time Raphael and Michelangelo had managed to carry Donatello back to the lair he was barely breathing. While Raphael hooked Donatello up to the proper equipment, Michelangelo went through his brother's medical books to try to determine what sort of pills he had taken. He moaned as all the medical terminology began to hurt his brain. Why did everything have to be so complicated? And to make matters worse, they hadn't been around to witness the first symptoms, so determining the drug of choice was nearly impossible.

"What's the diagnosis, Mikey?" Raphael asked.

"Don't rush me!" Michelangelo yelped in a panic.

Raphael checked Donatello's vitals; his pulse was dangerously slow and getting slower by the second. "I can't give Donny the proper treatment if I don't know what he took."

Michelangelo bit back a frustrated scream. "I'm reading as fast I can," he said. He skimmed over a couple more pages. "Those pills don't look like over-the-counter pills, do they?" he asked.

"No," Raphael replied.

"That rules painkillers out…I think," Michelangelo said uncertainly.

"Mikey," Raphael urged in a warning tone.

Michelangelo turned the page and skimmed down through it. His heart sank when he read the list of possible drugs and what the symptoms of an overdose was. Since they hadn't been around to see most of the symptoms Donatello experienced, Michelangelo could only guess with the ones they were around to see.

"Raph, is it possible to get antidepressants on the street?" Michelangelo asked.

"I'm pretty sure you can get any drug on the street," Raphael replied. "Why?"

Michelangelo looked up him, his eyes wide with terror. "Because...according to this...an overdose on sedatives or antidepressants can cause a coma and eventually death," he explained.

Raphael's heart sank into the pit of his stomach. He looked down at his unconscious, possibly comatose brother. Donatello had finally done it. He had chosen the one thing he knew Raphael and Michelangelo didn't know how to counter against. They didn't know how to treat an overdose. All they could do was stand back and watch as their brother died a slow and agonizing death. Raphael didn't know whether to be sad or angry or relieved that his brother's suffering would soon be over; maybe he was all three. Michelangelo was right: For a genius, Donatello was an idiot.

"I think we should say our good-byes," Raphael said softly. "Donny probably ain't gonna make it through the night."


He had never felt so light in his entire life. It was like every burden that had been placed upon his shoulders throughout his life had somehow been lifted. Donatello looked around at the astral realm. A thick fog covered the ground and swirled around him, making it difficult to see things at a far distance.

Is this what it's like to die? Donatello asked himself. It's not as scary as I had thought it would be.

"So, here you are," came an all too familiar voice from somewhere within the fog.

Donatello turned around, searching for the source of the voice. "Leo?" he called.

Out of the fog, a figure took shape. The closer the figure came, the more details Donatello could make out. A smile touched his lips when he saw his eldest brother. However, the smile faded when he saw the look on Leonardo's face. It was a look of disappointment and sadness.

"Leo?" Donatello asked in uncertainty.

"After all this time...after so many attempts to try to reach you..." Leonardo shook his head. "I never wanted to get through to you like this."

Donatello frowned. "Get through to me? What are you talking about?"

"For the past couple of weeks I've been trying to get through to you," Leonardo said. "I've been trying to tell you that what happened to me wasn't your fault."

Donatello looked away. "It was my fault, Leo. How can no one see that? I was the one operating; it was my responsibility to make sure you were stitched up correctly. Instead I missed a small tear and you ended up paying the ultimate price for my failure."

"And who pays the price for your death?" Leonardo asked, making Donatello look up at him. "You really think the problems are just going to go away when you die? They're only going to get worse, Don."

Donatello shook his head. "Raph and Mike don't have to bother with me anymore," he said. "They'll get on just fine without me."

"Is that really what you think?" Leonardo asked.

Leonardo suddenly shot forward and grabbed Donatello's shoulders, whirling him around so that he was facing what looked like a full body mirror. Donatello blinked in surprise when he saw Raphael holding a sobbing Michelangelo in his arms. They were standing beside a bed, a blanket covered form lay on top.

"What is-"

"You got your wish, Donatello," Leonardo hissed, his voice sharp and cold. "You're dead. And they've just lost two brothers in less than a month."

Fog swirled around the mirror and the scene changed. It was clear that some time had passed. It was December, a few days before Christmas, according to the calendar on the wall, but no Christmas decorations adorned the walls, which was strange considering it was one of Michelangelo's favorite times of the year, next to Halloween.

"What's going on?" Donatello asked puzzled.

"This is life after your death," Leonardo replied. "Time has moved on but Raph and Mikey haven't."

In the mirror, Donatello could see a dejected and gaunt looking Michelangelo lying on the couch, his eyes on a silent TV screen but not really paying much attention to what was happening. Raphael came out of the kitchen.

"Mikey, dinner's ready," the red masked turtle said.

Donatello frowned in confusion. "Since when did Raph start cooking?" he asked stunned.

"He's had to take on a lot of things since Mikey doesn't move from the couch," Leonardo explained.

"Mikey, dinner's ready," Raphael repeated.

"Not hungry," Michelangelo muttered.

Raphael sighed and walked over to the couch. "Mike, this isn't healthy. You've got to eat something. I can't keep hooking you up to that I.V. to get nutrients into ya."

Michelangelo turned around so that his back was facing his brother. Raphael sighed again and walked away, knowing that it was useless to try to talk Michelangelo into eating anything.

"This isn't right," Donatello stated in confusion.

"That's the understatement of the day," Leonardo said, still keeping his grip on his brother's shoulders. "What did you expect? That they would just move on as if nothing had happened? They lost their brother to a drug overdose, moron. How else were they supposed to react?"

The scene in the mirror changed again. This time is was nighttime and Michelangelo was sneaking out of the lair, dressed in light human clothing. Donatello and Leonardo watched as their baby brother walked through the sewers until he came to a particular storm grate and sat down underneath it. Donatello knew where he was. He used to watch the stars with Michelangelo under that grate. His heart began to break when Michelangelo began talking to himself as if he was talking to Donatello.

"Still think they're better off without you?" Leonardo asked.

The scene flashed back to Raphael and it looked like some time had passed since Michelangelo left the lair. Raphael headed for Michelangelo's room, but he found it empty. Thinking that his brother was already downstairs on the couch, Raphael headed downstairs; however he found the couch empty as well.

"Mikey?" Raphael called. "Mike?"

He searched the lair, but his baby brother was nowhere to be found. Raphael began to panic.

"Michelangelo!" he yelled.

He ran out into the sewers and Donatello wanted nothing more than to yell out to his brother where to find Michelangelo, but something kept him quiet. More time passed as Raphael's search became frantic as it turned up nothing. He stopped momentarily to catch his breath and gather his thoughts. Where would Michelangelo have gone? He would go somewhere where he could be close to his brother. Realization dawned on Raphael's face and he took off again. Donatello almost sighed in relief when Raphael finally found Michelangelo curled up in a ball under the grate, a light dusting of snow covered his unmoving body.

"Mikey!" Raphael exclaimed as he ran to his brother's side.

Michelangelo was mumbling incoherently in his sleep. Raphael checked his brother for injuries, but all he found was that his brother had a fever. He picked Michelangelo up and headed back towards the lair. All the while, Michelangelo muttered incoherently in his fever induced sleep. By the time Raphael stumbled into the lair, he could feel the fever burning through Michelangelo's thin clothing.

"Stay with me, Mikey," Raphael pleaded as he hurried into the infirmary.

He laid his brother on one of the cots and started removing the clothes which were now soaked through with sweat.

"Donny," Michelangelo groaned his hand reaching for something only his eyes could see.

Raphael stared down at his ailing sibling. "What do I do?" he asked to the empty room. "What do I do?"

Michelangelo coughed harshly and Raphael felt his heart break. It was clearly evident that Michelangelo was suffering from pneumonia, but Raphael didn't know how to treat it. The only one who did was currently six feet under. Raphael pulled a blanket over Michelangelo's shivering body and gave him some antibiotics before taking a seat in the chair at the foot of the bed.

Fog rolled over the mirror and Donatello felt panic rise in his stomach. However, even though his view was obstructed, his hearing was not. Raphael's cries of anguish rang through the astral realm, sending shivers down Donatello's spine. The fog rolled away to reveal a devastated Raphael holding his baby brother's lifeless body in his arms. Donatello had never heard such a sound come from his hot-headed brother or any living creature; Raphael sounded like a wounded and dying animal.

"That's right, Don," Leonardo said, picking up on Donatello's horror. "Because you weren't there Mikey never survived despite Raph's best efforts. The pneumonia was too severe. He died Christmas morning."

The fog rolled back over the mirror and Donatello closed his eyes in heartbreaking grief and looked away. "I don't want to see anymore," he pleaded softly.

"No, Donatello. You have to look. You have to see what you've done to our family," Leonardo told him.

Donatello opened his eyes and glanced up at the mirror. More time had passed and Raphael was all alone. The scene showed him training in the dojo when the phone started to ring, but Raphael ignored it. The answering machine kicked in and the message that the brothers had recorded together played before Casey's voice came through the speaker.

"Yo, Raph, it's Casey. Listen, man, I know you're hurtin' 'n all but ya can't shut everyone out. Me 'n April are still here, 'n ain't we family, too?" Casey paused for a moment. "You've got April real worried about ya. Your nightly busts have made it to the news, pal. We're worried you might get caught, or worse." Another pause, a sigh. "This isn't what your bros would want, Raph. I just wish you would let me 'n April help ya. If you never speak to us again it's fine, that's your choice. Just promise us this: That you won't bite off more than you can chew. So long, pal."

Casey hung up and the lair went silent. Raphael stopped his katas and panted for breath. His skin was coated in a thin layer of sweat. Raphael walked over to the wall and picked up a towel, wiping the sweat from his face. He headed out of the dojo and went over to the phone. He replayed Casey's message and listened to it as he went into the kitchen to get a drink of water. Raphael considered calling Casey, but he wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone at the moment. Placing the empty glass in the sink, Raphael headed for the elevator.

"What's he doing?" Donatello asked as he watched Raphael disappear into the elevator before the fog returned to the mirror.

"After Mikey died Raph became berserk," Leonardo explained. "He's put most of the gangs and Foot ninjas in jail or in the ground, but he doesn't care if he's seen by other people or if he lives; he's lost everything that ever mattered to him."

"Please tell me it's over," Donatello begged his eldest brother. "Please say there's no more."

"I'm afraid there's a lot more to see, Donny," Leonardo told him sadly.

The fog lifted and Donatello's heart sank when the scene showed Raphael in the middle of a fierce battle with the Foot clan. He was dangerously outnumbered and it looked like the Foot had gained the upper hand in the fight; but Raphael raged on. Donatello's eyes widened in horror when he saw a Foot ninja come up behind his brother with a knife.

"Raphie, behind you!" the purple masked turtle instinctively yelled.

But, Raphael never turned around; he never saw the knife coming. He screamed in pain as the blade was plunged deep into his side before it was pulled out again. Raphael collapsed to the ground. As one, the Foot ninjas ran off, leaving the turtle for dead. Raphael groaned in pain as he pushed himself up. Donatello watched in silent terror as his brother stumbled his way back to the lair, leaving a trail of crimson behind him.

Raphael staggered over to the couch and fell down onto the cushions. He panted for breath, but never did anything to try to stop the bleeding. Raphael reached over the arm rest and played back Casey's message. As it played through, Raphael picked up a picture of his family from the coffee table and stared at it, smiling at the happy memories that came to mind. His eyes began to drift closed.

"I just wish you would let me 'n April help ya. If you never speak to us again it's fine, that's your choice. Just promise us this: That you won't bite off more than you can chew..."

Raphael's hand went limp and the picture fell to the floor and shattered as the last turtle went to see his family.

"So long, pal."


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