Disclaimer: TMNT and all related characters do not belong to me.

Into the Sewers

Splinter needed a moment.

Just one moment of selfishness where he wasn't required to know what to do or how to respond to the news that had just ripped his world apart. He needed the chance to reel with the blinding white panic of a parent that has turned around to find that their child is no longer beside them.

Leonardo was gone. Taken by someone (something) that Splinter did not understand.

He had known fear before. After all, they had enemies to spare. Oroku Saki. Karai. Bishop. Even his old foe, Draco. All of them had threatened his family at one time or another, and more than once they had almost succeeded in destroying what the rat had fought so long to protect. But any one of them would have been a blessing over this insidious shadow that had come to steal his son away. At least then he would have known how to retaliate, how to fight back and bring his son home.

Instead, they now faced a parasite that could not only invade the body, but the mind as well. A creature that possessed the ability to turn friend against friend and brother against brother. Even with all he knew of this strange world, it was hard to fathom that such power could really exist.

He blinked and found the edge of his vision was smeared. His tongue was fixed to the roof of his mouth, and a tightness was filling his chest as loop after iron-linked loop of panic compressed him, crushing his lungs beneath an onslaught of fear.

Life could not be asking him to fight this battle.

Not after all they had faced so far.

It just couldn't.

"Mast'a?"

He started, drawing in a breath as the world ahead of him cleared.

He was still standing at the foot of the examination table where Raphael sat. The rat's palms were pressed flat against the table's cool surface like some feeble attempt to secure him to the world he had known not an hour ago. A world where his children were safe and this kind of monster only existed in the movies Michelangelo watched late at night. Dark eyes fell into the dented first aid kit between his hands, helplessly. Just beyond its lid lay the discarded cloths he had used to treat Raphael's wounds. They were scattered across the steel surface in a patchwork of white and bright red.

Raphael's blood.

The evidence of the fight his son had endured.

"Mast'a?" His name came softer now, pressed with more urgency.

Splinter's head lifted to find Raphael waiting for him. With his bizarre story having come to a close, he was waiting for his father's reaction. Waiting for something, anything, to spill from the rat. Be it tears or wrath, he was willing to take it...and his eyes shone with the tears that believed he deserved whatever was coming for him. Splinter's chest twisted to see that crushed expression filling his brazen son's face.

His moment, it seemed, was up.

He let out his breath, releasing the paralyzing dread that he had allowed to encircle him. Pushing back his shoulders, he shook himself free of those dark coils of despair. He had no time for wallowing. He were matters to attend to.

The first and foremost sitting directly in front of him.

Reaching out, Splinter rose to his toes, ignoring the sharp sting in his bad leg as the muscles pulled. Raphael watched him, still caught between expecting the rebuke he deserved for allowing his brother to be lost and the quiet comfort he had known from his father before. But when gentle fingers cupped his cheek and slowly brought his head forward and down, he did not resist. Splinter touched their foreheads together before drawing his son into a fierce embrace. Finding himself trapped within his father's unyielding embrace, Raphael's ever present fortitude dissolved.

The turtle hunched forward as a muffled sob managed to break past his teeth. His arms came about the rat's back, fingers clutching at the worn fabric of his robe. He buried his beak into Splinter's neck and everything he had witnessed that night came wheezing from him in a low, mournful groan. His heart breaking, Splinter set his chin to the top of the turtle's head. He tightened his grasp on Raphael, willing that his son might feel the same strength he had possessed in his youth.

"It will be all right, Raphael," he whispered.

The young warrior grew still at the promise, resting a moment longer in his father's grasp. Then, he sniffed and sat back on the table, looking thin and exhausted. "Sure, Mast'a," he muttered with a weary grin. "I know."

Returning the wane smile, he let Raphael go and drew away with a sigh of his own. "Donatello."

The inventor materialized at his shoulder, as if he'd been there all along. His desk chair spun in a lazy circle behind him. Michelangelo lingered halfway across the room, unsure if he was expected to join them as well.

"Have you made any progress?"

Donatello shook his head. "Sorry, sensei, the tracking system's coming up empty. Either Leo's gone too far underground to catch a satellite signal or...or he's traveled beyond the grid's limits."

"And how far does this grid of yours search?"

"Most of the city. And Jersey."

Splinter flicked an ear, thoughtfully. "Then perhaps it is time we turn aside from technology."

"We were thinking the same thing!" Michelangelo agreed, drawing even with Donatello's shoulder. "Donnie thought we should try to hit up Casey again. You know," he rapped a knuckle off his own temple, "since he shared rental space with this thing and all. He might know more about what this thing is up to."

"Ya think I didn' ask 'im?"

The malice in those quiet words brought all eyes back to Raphael. He looked to all of them, something shifting behind his eyes before he dropped his gaze to the floor. "Casey don' know any more'n we do."

"A few hours have gone by," Donatello said. "Maybe he's remembered something he couldn't when you last saw him." His brother sent him a dubious glance. Unperturbed, Donatello lifted his shoulders. "You said it yourself that Casey was totally out of it when it...when all of this happened." He shifted a little uneasily, trying to ignore the hesitation that had slipped through. "And you were dealing with shock and probably a concussion of your own."

Darkness flickered over Raphael's features at the implication. Like he didn't feel a concussion was a worthy excuse for the possibility that his memory wouldn't be on top form. Splinter's heart sank at the unseen wall of stubbornness rose behind his son's eyes. Raphael set his weight forward, his toes landing on the concrete. He had to grab at the edge of the table to keep himself on his feet, but shot Donatello a dangerous look when the inventor took an instinctive step forward.

"And what d'ya expect me ta do while you're out interrogatin' Casey 'bout the same things I jus' tol' ya?" he said. "Ya wan' me ta sit here while Leo's out there wanderin' around wit' this thing? Like we haven' wasted enough time fixin' me up and waiting on your damn grid-"

"Raphael!" Splinter snapped. His son's teeth clacked as he ceased his rising tirade.

Donatello folded his arms across his chest, his brown eyes narrowing as they locked with seething gold. Splinter felt his shoulders sag.

For all their differences, Raphael and Donatello's stubbornness were near mirror images of one another. Raphael may have been more vocal (about everything really) but Splinter knew there was no budging Donatello once he had set his mind to something. He would break himself to pieces before admitting defeat about anything, especially when his hot-headed sibling was involved.

The last thing Leonardo needed was for his middle siblings to engage in a battle of wills.

Splinter wasn't certain he himself could endure it.

Not now.

He reached out, setting his fingers over Raphael's emerald shoulder. "My son, Donatello is right. This trouble began with Mr. Jones. It is only fitting that the search for Leonardo would begin with him as well."

Raphael glanced to him, the hollowness beneath his eyes becoming more defined and Splinter lifted his ears at the haunted expression that had overtaken his face. He shook his head, "There's no point..."

"Then you do not need to accompany us. You may stay and rest."

Panic sliced behind Raphael's eyes and he looked from his father to his brothers helplessly. Donatello's expression remained neutral, but Michelangelo tipped his head, thoughtfully, as he considered the hunted stance his fearless older brother had taken on. At length, Raphael clenched his teeth and turned back to Splinter.

"I ain't jus' gonna sit here waitin', Mast'a."

"I know." Splinter gave him a bemused smile. "After all these years, Raphael, I would expect no less of you."

Donatello let out an indignant squawk. "But, sensei, his head! He can't just -"

Splinter's dark eyes cut to the inventor, silencing him. "However, given the injuries you've sustained tonight, I would insist that you do not go alone."

Raphael frowned, and then he dropped his chin in understanding.. He leaned forward to peer around Donatello.

"Well, Mike, what do you say to that?"

The youngest lifted his brow and looked to Splinter, who gave him a single, encouraging nod. His face split into a mischievous grin and he shrugged. "I'm just wondering why we're all still standing around."

Raphael's brow fell and he turned to fix his eyes on the lab door. He strode forward, ignoring Donatello but dipping his head towards his father, gratefully, as he made for the exit.

As his younger brother made to follow, the rat caught him by the elbow.

"Michelangelo..." he said.

His son paused to turn to him, and then he reached out and gave his father's fingers a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry, sensei. I got him."

With that, he pulled free and darted after Raphael, disappearing into the living room and then out into the world beyond. Splinter watched them go, feeling as he ever did, that his sons too easily were able to slip from his grasp. He swallowed and cast a glance aside to where Donatello was watching after his siblings, a torn expression twisting his features.

"Whenever you're ready, Donatello."

The inventor started at his voice, pulling his gaze from his brothers' retreat to meet the rat's gaze. Then, he nodded and spun on his toes. He went to the far cabinets to pull his battered duffel bag from a low shelf. Tossing it open on the clean end of the examination table, he became a blur of movement, going from drawer to cabinet to shelf, snatching up this and that as he passed and returning to fit each item into the bag with practiced ease.

With his final son on the move, Splinter allowed himself a lingering glance towards the lab store. His hands squeezed the head of his cane, and his stomach churned at the possibility that he had just released two more of his children into the same world as the phantom that had stolen Leonardo away.

He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his years settling more comfortably across his shoulders.

"Be safe," he whispered.

In spite of the nonchalant grin he had summoned up in the moment, the ache in Michelangelo's stomach had not abated in the least. Rather, he felt that it had only gained strength from the moment the damp sewer air fell upon his skin. If Raphael felt it, Mikey didn't know, because as his brother broke free of the lair, he just dropped his chin and charged forward. Mikey fell into step a pace behind him, for once suffering himself to remain in second place.

The look that had taken over Raph's face back in the lab never strayed far from the youngest's thoughts as they ran. Something about their conversation had shaken his brazen older brother. Something he would probably never admit, but Mikey had seen it, just as he knew Splinter and Donnie had seen it. And the fact did not sit well with the youngest at all.

He found that the sewers felt colder than they should have for that time of year. Storm or no, there was more than a chill lingering on the air. The tunnels were darker too, like the shadows had crept closer to the lights than they had ever dared before. The rain had also swelled the waterways, transforming their familiar, damp tunnels into a raging underground river. The transformation nagged at him and he found himself glancing over his shoulder again and again despite the fact that he knew they were alone.

He hoped it was just Raph's crazy story playing tricks on him.

Problem was, he believed his brother's crazy story.

And that didn't bode well for them at all.

They wound their way down street after street, following a path they both knew well. Mikey thought they were headed back towards Casey's apartment complex, but Raphael pulled up short while they were still a few blocks away. Panting heavily, he began to pace back and forth before the pipeline that would run beneath their friend's home, glaring down into the darkness as he growled and muttered beneath his breath. Mikey managed to catch a couple of the surrounding street names and figured his brother was running through a mental map of the area.

Or working his way through every possible route Leo might have taken in his flight.

He folded his arms against the thought and watched Raph stew in silence.

This really sucked.

He didn't miss the steep rise and fall of his brother's shoulders during this brief rest. He knew the other's eyes were still too glittery and had the tendency to slip out of focus now and again. By all rights, Raphael probably had no business walking around, much less running about the sewers in the dead of night. But he said nothing. Like Splinter, he knew he'd never stop Raph from searching for Leo, no matter what condition he was in. Besides, he preferred life with his head still attached.

He could only wait and hope that they found something before Raph's bull-headed endurance decided to give out on them.

Raphael paused at last, landing on a decision. He took off again without a word. Where he was headed, or by what logic he had settled on this direction, Michelangelo did not know. But he didn't question this either.

They traveled down the new route for a while, never branching off to the left or the right. The river carried on beside them, as oblivious to them as Raphael was to it, but Mikey watched the water's level carefully from the corner of his eye, years of childhood warnings blazing through him as they ventured even further into the night.

He didn't like all the noise bouncing off the walls. It was unnerving to have his ears taken away from him on his home turf.

Especially when some foreign monster, whatever it was, was wandering the sewers with them.

He blinked when, up ahead, Raphael suddenly picked up his speed. Beyond him, Mikey spotted that the end of their walkway was fast approaching. Raph pulled forward, gathering the power of his legs beneath him before he planted his foot on the lip of the concrete ledge and then launched himself into the air.

It was an easy, thoughtless move, one they did countless times every day. Raphael arched up and over the torrent of water gracefully.

It was the landing that got him.

The moment his feet touched down on the opposite walk, his knees buckled. His weight pulled him sharply to the right and his shoulder bounced off the wall. Mikey's gut twisted as his brother's carapace followed, scraping angrily against the bricks and then spinning him aside. His momentum hurtled him along another two ungainly steps before he finally went down.

"Raphie!"

Mikey's voice broke over the roar of the water a second before he followed after him. He grunted in his own landing and stumbled in haste to his brother's sprawled form. Dropping to his knees, he slid in beside Raph's shoulder. Mikey set his hand over the scarred carapace, kneeling low to peer into the other's face. "Raphie, you all right?"

One bleary gold eye rolled upwards, but he got no answer. Clenching his teeth, Mikey gave him a halfhearted shake. "Come on, Raph, talk to me, bro."

Raph blinked up at him, bewilderment filling his face as he realized his was on the ground. He stared at his brother, warily, for a moment before he suddenly surged upwards with a grunt. His footing slipped out beneath him and he hit his hip. Growling in frustration, he tried again with no better results. Mikey reached for his arm and scowled himself when it was batted aside.

"Okay, you want to know what we don't have time for?" he shouted over the din, swiveling a finger between them. "'Cause this is a good example of it right here!"

Raphael's brow fell, obstinately, but Mikey only had to wait another minute before his brother let out a defeated sigh and suddenly leaned into him. Catching Mikey by the nape of his neck, he allowed his brother to stagger them both upright. The younger turtle kept one arm wrapped about the curve of the other's shell, the other stretched across Raph's plastron to keep him from toppling forward again.

Glancing further along the walk, he spotted the shadow of a door set into the tunnel wall not too far ahead. He hitched himself closer to his brother, and set off towards it, half dragging the larger turtle along. Raph's breath rasped, his toes drug with every step, and Mikey felt every pound his brother loaned him by the time he managed to haul them over that short distance.

He reached the door, blowing out a sigh as the knob gave easily beneath his hand. He nudged it inward and helped maneuver Raphael inside.

He swept his free hand over the wall, finding a light switch to a flickering little bulb above their heads. The room turned out to be an old break room for maintenance workers complete with an old mini fridge and a shelf of cleaning supplies directly in front of them. It was heavy with the smell of mildew and disuse, but it was still a refuge from the open sewers.

And they had definitely survived in worse.

Easing Raph to the floor beside the supply shelf, Mikey swiveled on the balls of his feet to swing the door shut. His head buzzed with the relief of blotting out even a bit of that relentless current. He turned towards the shelves, clicking his fingers hopefully as he scanned the items, and he let out a cheer when he spotted the twisted plastic of a water bottle case near the floor.

He pulled one of the containers free, wondering briefly if he should be checking for an expiration date. He cracked into it and sniffed at the trembling surface of the water, and then shrugged as he turned back towards his brother.

Raph had scooted higher against the shelf, his hand cupped over his shoulder's scraped flesh. He was scowling at nothing, as if the empty air before him had offered some personal offense just for him.

Mikey sank down beside him. He made no move to touch his brother, but bent low to peer at the dry, pale marks that the brickwork had left behind. His eyes flicked up to meet Raph's bleary gaze.

"You're having a rough night, bro," he said, handing the bottle over.

"We ain't going back home, Mike." Raph snapped, automatically. "I jus' lost my balance for a sec, it's fine."

"Is it?" Mikey asked, rocking back to sit against the shelf as well. He stretched out his legs. "There's not a lot that seems fine about tonight, man. Like, none of it, ya know?"

Raph's jaw twitched and he sniffed, quickly glancing aside. "Yeah, well. Is what it is, ain't it?"

"Again, I ask, is it?" Mikey lifted a brow.

Raph frowned. Then he groaned and slapped a hand over his eyes. "Ah, crap, what ya thinkin', Mike?"

"Okay, here's the thing," Mikey turned to face him, now crossing his legs. "You and Casey have been there to back each other up in every mess you've gotten yourselves into ever since you dragged that nut job into our lives. You can say we're out here looking for Leo all you want, but you know just as much as I do that we're just running around blind right now." Raph growled, so Mikey barreled forward before he could snap back a reply. "I guess I'm wondering why we're doing this instead of going to April's with Donnie and Splinter to figure out what the hell is going on?"

He expected anger. He expected sarcasm and a snarled rebuke.

He got none of it.

Raphael only studied him for a moment, his golden eyes shifting back and forth between Mikey's. Then a soft and sudden sound of exhaustion slipped through his nose and all of the tension seeped out of the warrior's frame. His head fell back and the shadows beneath his eyes only seemed darken further and Michelangelo marveled at the frightening transformation that had swept over his brother in mere seconds.

"I can't, Mike," Raph whispered. He swept his fingers up and over his head, skimming the fresh bandages that hid the ugly gash and the accompanying knot beneath it. "I can't…Not yet… I can't see 'im yet."

"Why not?"

"'Cause I can't see 'im…without seein' it right along with 'im." Raph swallowed, thickly. "I can't see 'im wit'out knowin' what it did to 'im. What it did ta Leo. An' I jus' keep seein' it. Hearin' it. The way it used 'is face, 'is words, 'is grin..." A low growl worked in his throat. "I let it happen to Leo. Trying to save Casey, I let it take 'im. An' now…" He lifted his head, looking around as if he might find their missing sibling among the cleaning supplies. "I don' know what ta do...but I know...I don' wanna see Casey now..."

Michelangelo watched him, his hands folded, helplessly, in his own lap. He let the quiet stretch between them for a moment, processing everything his brother had just muttered without ever looking directly at him. Then, the younger turtle gave a decisive nod.

"All right. No Casey. Not yet, dude."

Raphael glanced aside to find Mikey's mouth was curved, but there was none of his usual goofiness behind it. Reaching out, he settled his hand over his brother's shoulder, his blue eyes glinting in the gloom. "And you didn't let anything happen, Raph. No one blames you for this. We're just gonna set to work on gettin' him back, right?"

Raph sniffed again, and small smile tugged at his mouth. He let out a soft scoff. "How do you do that, Mike?"

Mikey tipped his head.

"How do you always keep up that damn hope of yours?"

"Well, I don't like to brag about it, but much like a certain Disney Princess, I too, am infused with the power of a single drop of sunlight."

His brother's brow lifted." You're the weirdest guy I know."

"It's the privilege I get for being the young and ridiculously good-looking one," Mikey grinned, lifting his shoulder, haplessly. Raphael snorted and didn't reply, returning his focus to his own fingers. Mikey sighed.

"You'll see, Raphie," he said softer now. "We'll get him back."

After another moment, something shifted behind Raph's eyes and he turned his head to look at his little brother. "Hey, Mike?"

"Yeah, man?"

"I'm glad ya came wit' me."

"Well, my Friday night plans kinda went down the toilet so…"

He sniggered as Raph's calloused palm smacked off the back of his skull and he shifted out of arm's reach. Raphael finally set to work on the water, making a face after his first swallow and checking the label before he returned to it. Mikey waited until he was halfway through before he pressed forward again. "So, you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be right." Raph replied, huskily. He set the water beside him on the lower shelf and swiped a knuckle across his beak. "We bett'a keep moving." He shifted his weight and then lifted his hand towards the other. "Get me up."

Mikey hopped to his feet to oblige, catching hold of Raphael's outstretched wrist.

Their attempt to get Raph back on his feet went far smoother than it had out in the sewers. He only swayed once and sent such a glare of warning that Mikey knew better than to try to steady him. He was just readying himself for a few trial steps when...

Bee dee! Bee dee! Bee dee!

Mikey nearly buckled at the high-pitched alarm that came buzzing from his hip. He slapped at his belt, pulling his shell cell free and flipping it open. He realized that in their haste, he had never turned off Donnie's tracking system. It was still scanning their surroundings, its bright gridlines illuminating their dim hideout with a pale green light.

Exchanging a glance, the brothers moved closer to one another, looking down to find a pair of bright spots huddling together on the screen before them.

Two lines over to the left of them, another dot was moving steadily along the black screen.

"Raph…"

"Is that-?" Raphael breathed, making a grab for the phone. The moment his fingers brushed the screen, the dot winked out of sight.

Their elation went with it.

"No, no, no!" Mikey cried, smacking the phone against his palm in vain. "Raphie, did you see-?"

"Where was it?" Raph demanded, "Which street was it on?"

"This one… That's…" Mikey squinted. "That's Fourth Avenue. Yeah, yeah, two blocks over."

Raphael peered at the small gridlines himself and then gave a sharp nod. He thrust the phone back at his brother and Mikey fumbled to catch it. He looked up just in time to see the door swinging on its hinges.

He swore Raph's dust trail was still hanging in the air.

Well, now, that wouldn't do at all.

He shoved his phone back into his belt and sprinted after him.

A/N: Holy crow, I am lame and I apologize. Queen of Procrastination that I am, that hiatus was just somewhat ridiculous! I felt like we had to see these guys before we got back to the worm, unfortunately, this chapter dug its heels in and refused to be written. I pry should have thrown it out a while ago, but hey, sometimes my Norwegian stubbornness kicks in and I refuse to admit defeat. For 10 months. In a row. I should probably work on that...Anyhoo!

Next chapter: We finally get to see a worm on the hunt. Seriously, this time! XD

I know I don't deserve them, but I would still love to hear your thoughts and critiques, please! Thank-ya!