Sorry for the lateness. It is that crazy time of year when school starts up again.

Thank you to all of you who have stuck with me this far and who constantly encourage me with your thoughts and comments. If I didn't get a chance to respond to you, please know that I am very grateful!

Now, without further ado…


Why did it always have to be his head?

Mikey scrunched his eyes closed in a vain attempt to ease the intense throbbing that was currently encasing his skull. Nausea curled somewhere deep in his belly, and he fought the urge to be sick. The left side of his face felt stiff and itchy from the dried blood that had crusted there, the sharp metallic scent only adding to the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

After a few moments of simply breathing, he peeled his eyes open and let his gaze sweep across the tiny confines of the room he was being held in. It looked like some kind of storage room, complete with a dusty pile of forgotten boxes stacked in one corner. A single window high on the opposite wall let in faint tendrils of predawn light, the soft glow illuminating the wooden door currently standing closed directly across from him.

Moving slowly so as to not aggravate his aching head, he carefully craned his neck back so he could peer up at the heavy chains bolted to the ceiling, holding him suspended a couple of inches off the floor. His wrists stung from where metal cuffs cut into them, and his arms ached from holding his body weight. He felt like a slab of meat hung out to dry.

With a small moan he let his chin fall back down to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut once more. He had no idea where he was, but it didn't take a genius to know that he was in a whole lot of trouble.

He struggled to remember exactly what had happened to him, but his thoughts were too jumbled and confused, the fierce ache in his head making it impossible to concentrate. All he had were a bunch of flashing images and impressions that made absolutely no sense. He thought there had been some kind of explosion, but even that was pretty foggy.

"Okay guys," he muttered softly. "Time to sweep in to the rescue…"

This thought made him frown, because he honestly didn't know where his brothers were. For all he knew they could have been captured as well. They could be hanging somewhere in a room right next to his waiting for him to rescue them. It was a sobering thought that did nothing to ease the nausea in his belly.

He gave a few experimental tugs on the chains holding him, but all he accomplished was increasing the ache in his wrists and setting his body to swaying slightly. Not such a good idea when he was a few dry swallows away from losing everything he had ever eaten.

'Okay, think Mikey,' he told himself firmly, then couldn't hold back a small smile as his mind supplied him with Raphael's sarcastic reply to that internal comment.

He hoped Raph was okay. Donnie too. He couldn't stand not knowing what had happened to them. If he was going to lose pieces of his memory every time he got hit on the head, he would have to consider wearing a helmet every time he came to the surface. It was an amusing thought that carried absolutely no relevance if he didn't first figure out a way to get out of this mess.

He was just beginning to build up the courage to give a few more yanks on the chain holding him when the door swung open with an annoying high-pitch screech that did absolutely nothing for his headache. Geez, hadn't these guys ever heard of WD-40?

When he finally convinced his eyelids to peel open once more, he found himself face to face with two massive, mutated wolves. Even hanging a few inches off the floor he found he had to look up slightly to look them in the eye. In the dim light filtering in from the window, both their eyes seemed to glow a faint red color, and he couldn't hold back the shiver that slid down his spine.

He recognized the gray wolf immediately, his fractured memories supplying him enough information to remember fighting the creature with his brothers at a warehouse. Bits and pieces of that battle fluttered through his aching brain like tiny slips of paper in a ticker-tape parade, too numerous to even think about trying to latch on to.

He was fairly certain he had never seen the tawny colored wolf before. The creature was sending out some seriously creepy vibes, staring at Mikey with a cool and calculating gaze, like a fish observing a worm on a hook right before gobbling it up. The mental image was so vivid, Mikey found himself speaking before thinking.

"Please don't eat me. I promise I don't taste very good."

The gray wolf let out a soft snort, but the tawny colored one merely narrowed his eyes and took a single step closer, looming over Mikey in what was almost certainly supposed to be an act of intimidation. Mikey would never admit it, but it was working. Yikes, these creatures were huge!

"What is your name, boy?" the brown wolf asked, his voice low and menacing.

Mikey opened his mouth to reply when a sudden thought struck him. It was more a realization, really. The only reason these creatures would have taken him prisoner was if they were after something, and that something was probably information. He wasn't sure exactly what kind of information, but it stood to reason that as soon as they obtained what they were looking for, they would have no more use for him. He'd watched enough spy movies to know what would happen to him then.

He closed his mouth with an audible click, his jaw clenching in stubborn determination.

The tawny wolf glared at him, baring its teeth in a threatening snarl. "Do not test me, boy. I will hurt you."

Mikey had no doubt the wolf meant what he said. His heart fluttered wildly inside his chest, but he kept his mouth firmly closed. He knew what would be coming next, but if he could hold out long enough, perhaps he could buy himself a little more time…time for his brothers to find him or time to figure out a way to escape. He had to try.

Even knowing it was coming, he wasn't completely prepared for the explosion of pain as the wolf lashed out with a backhanded blow across his face, knocking his head back violently. He'd thought his headache couldn't possibly get any worse, but he was wrong. Stars danced across his vision, and bile climbed up the back of his throat. His cheek throbbed and burned, and he could feel the side of his face beginning to swell.

"Who are you?" the wolf demanded again. "Where did you come from? Did Stockman create you? Did he send you to find us?"

Mikey barely heard the barrage of questions beneath the buzzing sound in his ears. The wolf's next blow landed on his side, right in the gap between shell and plastron. It drove all the air from his lungs and sent his body swaying wildly, the pressure on his wrists growing to the point he feared dislocation. A low grunt slipped out between his tightly clenched teeth, and he fought to catch his breath past the pain.

"Answer me!" the wolf roared, landing another blow to his captive's side. At this point in time it was all Mikey could do to remain conscious. The fierce pain in his side, combined with the strain on his wrists and arms and the stabbing agony through his skull was causing his vision to fade in and out. The buzzing in his ears had grown to a roar, and he knew all it would take was one more blow and he would either pass out or throw up. Not very pleasant, but it would serve his captors right.

The blow he was expecting never landed. By the time his body stopped swaying and his thoughts cleared slightly, both wolves had taken a step back away from him. They were murmuring together in soft tones, apparently discussing what their next course of action should be. Mikey knew he should try listening in, but he was simply hurting too badly to bother.

Instead, he closed his eyes and focused on just breathing. He didn't think the wolf had managed to break any of his ribs, but he certainly hadn't been giving him love taps either.

A breath of warm air across his face caused him to open his eyes, and this time it was the gray wolf that stood before him. The creature's eyes lacked the coldness of his companion, but his expression was grim.

"You would do well to answer our questions, young one. If you do not, you will not care for the consequences," he stated softly.

If he'd had the strength, Mikey would have snorted in disbelief. It seemed they were going for the whole good cop, bad cop routine. It was almost amusing, and if he wasn't already hurting so bad, he would have laughed. They obviously didn't know he had grown up with two older brothers who personified those two personalities. Leo had always tried to reason and cajole information out of him, while Raph would just hold him in a headlock until he got whatever he was after. If Mikey could learn to deal with them for over fifteen years, he wasn't about to cave to these two amateurs.

The gray wolf must have seen the resolve in Mikey's gaze, because he let out a small sigh, shaking his head as he stepped back beside his companion. "Foolish choice," he admonished quietly.

Mikey tensed, waiting for whatever was to come next, but both his captors merely turned and headed for the door. Mikey watched them go with no small amount of confusion. He wanted to feel relieved, but a growing sense of trepidation settled in the pit of his stomach, causing his heart to accelerate.

They obviously had something else planned for him, and he wasn't at all looking forward to finding out what it was.


Blade was sitting cross-legged on his cot when Viz entered the room.

He fought to keep his expression neutral as he glanced up at his friend, but he couldn't keep his fists from clenching at his sides. He had been ordered to the room as soon as they had returned to the warehouse, and to say that he was frustrated by the whole situation would be a vast understatement.

Viz stood looking down at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. The fur on his left shoulder was matted with dried blood from a wound he had taken when the warehouse exploded. He had been lucky. His larger frame and thick fur had protected him from more serious injury, and he in turn had protected Blade by shielding him against the force of the blast.

The other turtles hadn't been so lucky.

Before the echo of the explosion had even faded, Viz had hauled Blade to his feet, grabbed the nearest unconscious turtle, and taken off. They hadn't spoken a word during the entire trip back to the warehouse…not until Viz had ordered him to the room before disappearing down the hallway with his still unconscious burden. That was over an hour ago, and Blade was more than ready for some answers.

"Are you okay?" Viz asked quietly, his dark eyes appraising the young turtle steadily.

Blade shrugged. His injured arm was aching fiercely and his throat was still bothering him, but it wasn't anything he couldn't deal with. "I'll be fine," he answered lowly. "You?"

Viz cast a dismissive glance toward his shoulder before turning and grinning down at Blade. "I've cut myself worse shaving," he replied lightly.

Blade didn't return his grin. He was wound far too tight to allow a little light banter to distract him. "The turtle?" he said simply, knowing Viz would understand what it was he was asking.

Viz's smile faded, and he shook his head slightly before crouching down and facing Blade directly. "He's awake," he stated simply. "Alpha and I had a little chat with him, but he's not being very talkative."

Blade frowned, shifting on his cot. He knew exactly what kind of questions Alpha would have been asking. They were the same questions he himself had faced before the gang leader had realized he had no memory with which to supply the answers. He understood now why Viz had taken the other turtle. They would be seeking the information that Blade had been unable to provide them.

"What will Alpha do?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual and indifferent.

Viz sighed, glancing down at the ground before lifting his gaze and answering softly. "Alpha plans to let Two Toes question him as soon as he returns later this afternoon. He thinks he'll have better luck convincing him to talk."

Blade flinched, feeling his mouth go suddenly dry. "You mean Alpha plans to have Two Toes torture the information out of him," he replied tightly, a strange tension beginning to build in his stomach. "He'll kill him, Viz. You know he will!"

Viz regarded him calmly. "Perhaps," he answered softly. "But we have to know if he is working for Stockman. We have to know if we are in danger here."

Blade stared at his friend, unable to answer past the sudden wild fear trying to claw its way up his throat. He wasn't sure what to make of this reaction. He shouldn't care. It shouldn't matter what happened to the other turtle.

And yet somehow it did.

Viz must have sensed some of his conflict. "He's our enemy, Blade," he reminded him quietly. "They have already killed one of our own. I suppose it is only natural that you feel some affinity toward them, but don't forget that they left you to die. It is time you move on and accept the new life you have been given."

Blade dropped his gaze, staring down at the thin mat beneath him. He knew Viz was right, but somehow that knowledge didn't seem to help any. Why did he feel a strange protectiveness over the captive turtle? Why did the thought of turning him over to Two Toes fill him with such dread and alarm? He didn't want to care. It just complicated things.

Viz let out a quiet sigh. "Alpha wants to debrief me about the mission tonight. I wanted to check on you first, but he will be waiting. You need to sleep Blade."

Blade nodded slowly, swallowing down his doubt and fear with a sheer effort of will. "Go." He forced a lightness he didn't feel into his voice, looking up long enough to give Viz a small smile. "I think I can tuck myself in on my own…just this once."

Viz let out a soft huff of amusement, his gaze softening slightly. "I'll be back soon," he promised, rising from his crouch and looking down at Blade. "Just let us handle all this," he added. "You don't need to get involved."

Blade didn't bother answering, merely nodded. He watched as Viz left the room, then pushed himself to his feet and headed toward the medicine chest in the back of the room. Kneeling before the chest, he lifted the heavy lid and reached for one of the pre-filled syringes lying inside. He pulled one free, then lowered the lid.

Returning to his bed he sank down on the thin mattress, holding the syringe loosely in his lap. He sat there for a long time, staring down at the needle, his breath slow and even, nothing in his outward appearance betraying the internal struggle currently being waged within. Finally, after several long minutes, he lifted the syringe, thrust the needle home, and depressed the plunger.

Once the syringe was empty, he removed the needle from the cloth of his mattress, then tossed it aside, making sure it landed in the empty space between the two beds where Viz would be sure to see it. Then he lay down on his side and closed his eyes, forcing his body into stillness as he prepared to wait. Without the drug in his system he knew he didn't need to worry about accidently falling asleep.

It was almost an hour later when Viz finally returned. Blade sensed him as he moved quietly into the room, pausing directly above the turtle's cot. Blade remained perfectly still, his breathing deep and even, his eyes firmly closed.

After a moment he heard Viz move over to his own bed, the creak of wood and the soft rustle of cloth indicating the wolf had lain down. Blade remained motionless, listening intently to the soft huffs of breath and shifting coming from across the room. Eventually Viz's movements ceased and his breath deepened perceptibly, but still Blade waited, silently counting out the minutes in his head until he was absolutely sure his friend was soundly asleep.

Then he opened his eyes.

Sitting up silently on the bed, he glanced over at his sleeping companion before pushing himself soundlessly to his feet. His heart was pounding wildly inside his chest as he strapped his sword securely to his back, a portion of his mind wondering what the hell he thought he was doing. He had no illusions as to just how big of a risk he was about to take. If he was discovered, he doubted even Viz would be able to get him out of the trouble he would be in. Yet something beyond himself was compelling him onward, and he didn't think he could stop now even if he wanted to.

Moving as silently as possible he slipped from the room and down the dim hallway, using what shadows he could to mask his movements. The warehouse was mostly deserted, which made sense considering the early morning hour. Most of their human companions had already gone home and wouldn't be back until late afternoon. Blade could only hope that his fellow mutants would be using the peace and quiet to get some rest of their own.

After a brief moment of consideration, he headed toward the south end of the warehouse. There were several small rooms that had once stored the warehouse's more valuable inventory. Each of the rooms could be locked from the outside, and Blade guessed that this would be were Viz would have taken the prisoner.

He approached cautiously, knowing there would be a guard posted. Sure enough, as he peered around the final bend in the hallway, he immediately spotted a man leaning against the wall near the door to the first storage room. The man was smoking a cigarette and looking incredibly bored as he twirled an old fashioned key ring around his fingers.

Ducking back around the corner, Blade allowed his eyes to close as he thought about his next move. A moment later he reopened them, glancing around the dirty floor at his feet until he found a small rock. Stooping down, he picked up the rock, peered back around the corner, then hurled the small stone in a high arc down toward the other end of the hallway. The rock soared silently over the guard's head to land with a soft clatter twenty yards further down the hall. The man immediately jerked to attention, turning to face the direction of the noise, his hand flying to the handle of the gun tucked into the waist line of his pants.

"Who's there?" he called out gruffly, squaring his feet and peering intently down the dim hallway.

Blade moved swiftly and silently, sliding around the corner and reaching the guard in two long strides. The man was still staring intently in the opposite direction as Blade's hand came down in a short but powerful chop to the junction of shoulder and neck. The guard collapsed boneless to the ground, his eyes rolling up into the back of his head.

Blade leaned over and grabbed the key ring from the man's limp grasp, then straightened and turned to face the door. For the first time since leaving his room he found himself suddenly hesitating, unsure of what he would face on the other side. Like Alpha, he had come here in search of answers…answers to the questions that had haunted him mercilessly ever since he had learned of these other turtle's existence.

And yet suddenly he doubted his ability to get those answers. What made him think that the captive turtle would be any more willing to talk to him than he had to Alpha and Viz? What if he downright refused to speak to him? Would he be able to force the answers from the prisoner as Alpha planned to do with Two Toes?

For some reason, the very thought left him feeling sick and upset.

But he was desperate. Desperate to know about his past. Desperate to understand what had happened to him. The truth was, this might be the only chance he would get to find those answers, and he couldn't let such an opportunity go by without even trying. He had already risked everything to get to this point, he wasn't about to turn back now.

With renewed resolve, he lifted the key to the lock.


Mikey was beyond exhausted. His whole body ached terribly and his wrists were on fire from the last hour of trying to wiggle his way free of the metal cuffs. But they were simply too tight, and all he'd managed to accomplish was tearing the skin around his wrists, sending small rivulets of blood running down his forearms. Reluctantly he'd been forced to admit defeat.

He knew he should probably try and get some rest, but that was far easier said than done. His brothers had always claimed that he could fall asleep in just about any position, but apparently that didn't include hanging half a foot off the ground by his wrists. That was uncomfortable enough by itself, but add to it his still throbbing head and aching ribs, and sleep became all but impossible. Desperate and in pain, he tried some meditation techniques to take his mind off his discomfort, with only moderate success.

The high pitched squeal of the door had him jerking in his bonds, his head lifting and his gaze pinned to the entrance. He had known his captors wouldn't leave him alone for long, and he tried to mentally prepare himself for whatever might come next.

The light from the window behind him reflected off green skin as a familiar shape slipped quietly into the room, and Mikey felt his breath catch in his throat as hope flared brightly within him. His brothers had found him! They had come for him!

Then the figure stepped closer and Mikey felt his heart stop in his chest, his eyes widening in shock, his mind unable for a moment to comprehend exactly what…or who…he was seeing.

"Good, you're awake."

The words were softly spoken, but they still had a profound effect on Mikey, jumpstarting his heart and causing him to jerk within his bonds. Even if his eyes had somehow been playing tricks on him, his ears instantly recognized the voice, the sound so sweet and familiar it brought a stinging ache to his eyes.

It was a voice he had never thought to hear again.

"Leo!' the gasp tore from his throat, raw and desperate. His heart began to hammer wildly inside his chest, any disbelief and doubt he might have held quickly being buried beneath a wave of sheer joy and relief. Somehow, against all odds, his brother was here…alive! It was almost too much to process. He cried out Leo's name again, this time louder, his eyes stinging with tears, his arms yanking futility at the chains binding him, longing to break free and embrace the brother he had thought gone forever.

Surprisingly, Leo gave no reaction to his desperate call other than to tilt his head slightly to one side, his expression thoughtful. "So that was my name," he murmured softly, his voice tuned so low that Mikey wasn't sure if he had heard him correctly.

Mikey instantly grew still, staring down at his brother in surprise, his overwhelming joy and excitement slowly diminishing as his gaze locked with that of his brother. Leo was looking at him calmly, arms crossed loosely over his chest, his expression cool and distant. He made no move to come any closer, and Mikey felt a growing sense of confusion and bewilderment.

Something wasn't right.

Why was Leo just standing there? Why was his brother making no attempt to free him? And why was Leo looking at him as though he were a complete stranger?

"I have some questions for you, and I suggest, for your own good, that you answer them."

The breath caught in Mikey's chest at the coldness in Leo's tone. A chill went down his spine that had nothing to do with the temperature. Something was definitely wrong…very wrong. This wasn't his brother standing before him. Sure, it was Leo's body, Leo's voice…but the dark gaze now boring into his own carried none of the light and compassion that had always reflected in his brother's blue eyes. It was like he was looking at a stranger dressed in his brother's body. He shivered again, swallowing hard in an attempt to force down the lump growing in his throat.

"Leo," he whispered for a third time, his voice coming out soft and hesitant. "What's wrong…"

Leo arched one eye ridge, his expression turning bitter. "Why would anything be wrong?" he replied shortly, his tone harsh and unpleasant. "Just answer my questions, and I'll leave you alone. You'll never have to see me again."

This couldn't be real.

Mikey squeezed his eyes closed, blocking out the image of his brother's angry face. He tried desperately to make sense of what was happening. Perhaps his injuries were more serious than he'd thought and he was hallucinating. Or maybe he had fallen asleep after all and this was just some kind of nightmare brought on by his stressed and fatigued mind. It wouldn't be the first time Leo had visited him in his dreams, though never before like this. Never so cold and angry.

The hope and joy that had filled him just moments earlier drained away to be replaced by bitter disappointment. For a moment he had let himself believe that his brother was somehow still alive. He should have known better. It wasn't possible, and he was nothing more than a fool. He felt the burn of tears beneath his tightly closed lids, but forcefully pushed them back. Now was not the time to fall apart. He had to keep it together.

Willing his mind back to reality, he slowly reopened his eyes, fully expecting the vision of his brother to be gone. But Leo was still standing there, arms crossed over his chest, regarding him with the same coldness as before. "Something wrong?" he asked softly, a hint of sarcasm tinging the edges of his voice.

"This isn't happening," Mikey whispered, more to himself than to the hallucination in front of him. "You're dead!" His voice grew louder as he tried to will away the painful illusion. "My brother is dead!" It was the first time he had stated those words out loud, and his heart gave an agonizing lurch, the moisture that had been building behind his eyes finally escaping in a single tear that ran a quick path down his cheek and off his chin.

For a split second the cold mask on Leo's face dropped, revealing shocked surprise. "Brother?" he repeated, his wide eyes locked on Mikey's face. "You're my brother?"

Mikey didn't think he could take this anymore. He almost wished his captors would return and continue their torment…anything to wake him from this horrible nightmare he seemed trapped in.

Leo took a step forward, peering up into his face, his eyes darkening even further in what Mikey could only interpret as anger. From this close, Mikey could actually feel his brother's breath against his plastron, could see every minute detail on Leo's upturned face, the features so familiar and yet somehow so foreign. He noted distantly the purpling bruises around Leo's throat and the bandage wrapped around his upper arm…two things that seemed somehow strangely out of place in this whole nightmare.

"Tell me this," Leo hissed. "If we are supposedly brothers, why did you leave me to die?"

Mikey jerked back as though he had been slapped, staring down at his brother with wide, horrified eyes. "No," he gasped in denial, shaking his head. "Never. We never would have left you! This isn't real. You're not real!"

"Oh, I'm real," Leo replied, reaching out and placing a single hand in the center of Mikey's plastron and giving a slight push, sending the orange clad turtle rocking slightly. Mikey winced as his wrist screamed in protest, but the pain was minor compared to the throbbing ache filling his chest and climbing his throat. He had thought that nothing could ever compare to the pain he had felt upon learning that his oldest brother was dead, but this was a whole new kind of torture. It couldn't be real…it just couldn't be.

So why did it feel so real?

"You left me!" Leo continued, his voice sharp and angry. "I was trapped and you left me to die. I want to know why?!"

Mikey shook his head, a sob tearing from deep in his throat, the pain in his chest growing to the point it was becoming difficult to breathe. He needed to wake up. Right. Now.

Behind Leo something moved.

Mikey gasped as the dark form of a giant, black wolf stepped from of the shadows of the partially open doorway, moving forward to loom threateningly over his brother.

"Well, well, well" a new voice joined the conversation, dark and triumphant. "What do we have here?"

TBC

I'm cruel, I know, but it was just the perfect place to end it. I will do my best to update much sooner. Until then, please review.