VERY late. Raph's fault for not dying.

This chapter is a beast; over 20 pages long. SO much editing.

Enjoy (I hope).

Beep. Beep.

The room had frozen once more, all eyes staring –yet again- at the heart monitor. A slow, steady beep continued to emit from the machine, it's rhythmic beat the only sound in the room. Disbelief and shock replaced the hopeless despair that had destroyed their reality not moments before.

No one dared move for fear of breaking the spell. Fear of crashing the illusion of hope beeping before them.

Once again, Don was the one to move first. He surprised even himself as his arms fell away from Mikey, turning to face the cold turtle in front of him. It wasn't possible… as desperately as he wanted it to be real, logic cried foul. It couldn't be… could it?

Everything in him was suddenly at war with itself: heart fiercely needing it to be real, logic screaming it's impossibility, and mind demanding proof.

His body moved without prompt, raising two fingers to press against Raph's carotid in his neck. Not entirely sure of what he was expecting, he held his breath as he waited, trying to clear the numbness from his—

Thump.

Don's eyes shot wide; did… did he really feel that? He waited again, wanting to be sure it wasn't something his brain concocted to try and ease the pain.

Thump.

Again. There it was again! A heavy beat against his fingers. A steady, albeit slow, rhythm drumming just below the skin.

Thump.

A pulse. Raph had a pulse!

The machine wasn't toying with them, it spoke truth.

Raph was alive!

Surprisingly, relief didn't flood Don like he'd expected it to, his body opting for sustained fear and disbelief. Did he dare to hope this might be real? What if Raph's heart stopped and they had to go through all this yet again? He couldn't… he just couldn't…

"Donatello?"

Leatherhead's voice cut through the silence, jarring the tall turtle from his thoughts. What should he say? If this was a trick of the mind, it certainly was an elaborate one. The beat against his fingers remained steady, drumming reality and hope into his body with every thrum. Words failed him a moment longer as he stood staring at his brother, unable to mask his disbelief. "…He has a pulse."

Splinter instinctually reached to feel for himself, the thump of a familiar heartbeat allowing his own to beat once more. He exhaled in relief, his voice letting on more of the fear he'd harbored than he'd meant to. "Oh, my son!"

"But how is this…?"

"Leatherhead," Don cut his friend off before he could voice the skepticism they all felt. "He needs another IV. April, grab some more blankets, we need to warm him up. Casey—"

"Don't even think about it!" Casey's voice was curt, standing to emphasize his point. "I ain't leaving." He knew Don was giving everyone tasks to keep their minds occupied and panic to a minimum, but there was no way he was running off on some stupid errand just to clear his head. For once, he was staying put. And no one was moving him until Raph opened his stupid eyes so Casey could clobber him.

Don sighed in resignation, not having the energy to put up a fight. The blankets and IV were all he really needed right now anyways. Although if anyone wanted to raid a hospital and grab him some atropine, he wouldn't object; if his brother's heart gave out again, it was doubtful whatever strength had pulled him through would still be present. Splinter pulled the stool that had been kicked away in his panic closer to the head of the table, his hand never leaving Raphael's shoulder. Clearly, he wasn't going anywhere either.

Finally managing to move his eyes away from the heart monitor, Don turned to Mikey who still clung to Raph's hand, his shouting having died to soft whimpers. The panic still present in his baby brother's eyes was gut wrenching, though Don couldn't be certain his own face didn't have the same terror in it. But what could he do? What they'd just experienced wasn't something he could brush off with a simple 'it's going to be OK', especially knowing how empty such a promise would be. The truth was, Raph was clearly very weak. His heart was in the fight of it's life and had been for far too long, and without any drugs to aid him, Donnie could only rely on his older brother's strength of will to get him through this. They were nowhere near out of the woods.

But Raph was fighting, tooth and nail, obviously unwilling to give up. So neither could they. He meant what he'd told Mikey earlier; if there was anyone in the world with the stubbornness to make it out of this alive, it was Raphael.

With that encouragement in mind, Don kneeled beside his younger sibling, placing his hands overtop the quaking turtle's. It was several moments before he could find the courage to speak without his own doubts wavering in his voice, but he finally managed. "…He's alive, Mikey." The youngest didn't dare move his eyes from Raph's, still wide and red from crying, and hands shaking from fear. "Michelangelo," In an uncharacteristically physical move, Don placed a hand on his brother's cheek, finally drawing his attention. "He's alive. Raph's still alive."

The young turtle's eyes still shouted it's doubt, despite his obvious desire to believe. So Don took his brother's hand and placed it on Raph's wrist, allowing him to feel the drum beneath his fingers.

That did the trick. Mikey's eyes pulled wider, tearing up once more as he stared at their brother's wrist, now pulsating with life. He didn't speak –which was a clear sign of emotional overload for the talkative turtle- so Don did the only thing he knew to comfort; he hugged him once more. Unexpectedly drawing comfort for himself from the embrace, the genius turtle held his baby brother as tears slipped from his eyes. "It's Ok, little brother. We're all still here…"

Don had no idea if what he said did anything to relax the younger turtle in his arms, until he felt Mikey burry his face in his shoulder, eyes screwed shut, and one arm returning the hug around his chest. His body quaked anew as tears cascaded unabashedly. Tears of relief.

Don held tight, both for his brother's sake and his own, needing something to focus on that would clear his mind of all the waves of emotion trying to take him over. "It'll be OK." As stupid as it sounded in his head, it came out much more convincing than expected. He believed it. He honestly believed it. If Raph had been able to fight his way this far, he would make it home… Don was sure of it now. "Everything will be OK."

One thing was for sure; neither Raph, nor anyone else in the room, would be able to make it through that again.

Never again.

"Raph…"

"No one's going to die."

"He's not invincible Leo."

"I'll get us out of here. All four of us."

"Take me!"

"I—… I can't hear him breathing…"

"RAPH!"

"How could you!?"

"Mikey. Take Mikey."

"LEONARDO!"

Eyes shot open as his mouth gasped for air, grappling against the rib digging into his lung. His throat contracted into a coughing fit, spilling blood from his lips as his body tried to steady itself. Everything was hazy. Blurred. As if waking from a month long sleep. Brow furrowing as he tried to clear the cobwebs, images and thoughts passed through his mind with no context or understanding. He rasped another shallow breath, eyes straining shut against the pain in his arm as he tried to focus.

He was… alive? Something in the back of his mind told him that shouldn't be possible.

The cold suddenly hit him, sending a swift shudder through his body. A barrage of questions flooded his mind as memories returned of his daring escape from the current and subsequent nap.

Focus, Leo. Had to focus.

The ache burning through his arm and chest proved he was still hurt as bad as before, but at least pain meant nothing was numb anymore- numbness would be a very bad sign. Breathing was still difficult, particularly lying on his chest as he was, so swimming hadn't done his broken ribs any favors. If anything they were prodding his lungs even more now.

Taking what deep of a breath he could, he forced his left arm into action, attempting to lift his weight, to no avail. Chest barely lifting off the ground, he groaned as his arm gave out, splaying him back on the floor with anything but grace. A wave of pain coursed through him from the thud of his failure, only adding to the discomfort plaguing his body. Come on… get up. Several meditative breaths later, he was trying again, this time managing to almost flip on his back before his arm fell under the presser and smacked his face against concrete once more. Unable to stop the cry that escaped his lips, he chastised his own weakness; were it not so embarrassingly pathetic, he might think it was comical.

It's Ok. Take time. Breathe through it.

More minutes passed as Leo gathered strength in order to sit up. Sleep had made his entire body stiffer than his shell and overly sore, making every movement a mighty battle to be fought. It took longer than hoped for, but through great stubbornness, he finally managed to push himself up to a sitting position. Every muscle revolted, attempting to drag him back down with their screams of pain. Fortunately the wall was there to lend it's support. He leaned heavily against it, panting for breath at all the expended effort in managing this one, minute task.

Alright. Sitting up. Improvement. Yet it brought a shameful sense of déjà vu; hadn't he done all this just a short while ago?

Focus. Assess. Get moving.

Left hand moving gently to inspect his injuries, it seemed his arm was no longer bleeding as much, only trickling slightly down his right side. But while the blood was less, the pain had increased, particularly from his ribs. Had they only previously been fractured, they were certainly broken now- the water current had made sure of that. Though mostly dry, the water had soaked into his skin, chilling him to the bone; any colder and he was sure he'd freeze into an icicle. Driving his point home, another shiver tingled his body, rippling through his broken ribs and drawing a small whimper from his lips. Even shivering hurt…

While his mind was grateful for the sleep he'd been forced into, the rest of his body was less than gracious about it. And any ounce of strength he might have gathered from such rest had been stolen by his ravenous stomach and dehydration. How long had it been since he last ate or drank anything? He doubted the sewer water he swallowed during his tumble counted for much.

Dehydrated, starving, tired, and injured… getting home was not going to be an easy task. But he was alive, and that was a miracle not to be taken for granted. Nor was it something he understood.

Ignoring the fact that he should have died in the explosion, how on earth did he manage to wake up after passing out? It was possible years of cold New York winters could have steeled his body for this type of chill, and the blood trickling from his arm wasn't enough to be of concern. But the exhaustion, the lack of food and water, and the fact that breathing had become as competitive as an Olympic sport, gave him pause. His body was trained for harsh conditions, but this seemed far past any limits he'd ever tested. And he highly doubted his 'mutant blood' was enough to account for this level of miraculous.

While it bothered him to not have answers, he also knew better than to question it all too deeply; accept the gift and move on, lest the giver take it back.

Next task: survey surroundings.

It took him a moment to realize his eyes were open; it was nearly impossible to tell with how dark it was. The water had taken him several miles away from his original path, by his guess, and he wasn't even certain that had been the right way.

In other words, he had no idea where he was, where he was going, or how far it would be to get there. Entirely lost.

Exactly where he'd been when he started.

Letting a frustrated sigh pass his lips, he idly toyed with the idea of staying in one spot with the hope his family might find him. But the thought was quickly tossed out; if they believed him to be dead –which was highly likely- they weren't going to send a search party through the sewers. And even if they did, the chances they'd find him wherever he was were slim, to say the least.

He was on his own.

Another shudder sent more pain shooting down his arm. He hissed at the unexpected onslaught, leaning his head against the wall as he closed his eyes once more. Focus. Think of a plan. Find a way home.

No way to know where he was or how far he was from where he'd first woken, nor did he know if the direction he'd been traveling had been anywhere towards home. The water carried him at least several miles, but due to his long tumble through the air, there was no way to know what direction. For all he knew, he could be exactly where he'd started. And to his dismay, whatever instinct that had been guiding him before hadn't made it out of the water, as he no longer felt a pull in any direction.

He'd always told Raph there was a time and place for swearing, and to his tired mind, this moment was prime. But cursing his situation wasn't going to make anything easier, so he withheld.

Didn't matter which way he swung it, the best plan was to find a way to the surface so he could get his bearings: find out if he was in another country or anywhere near home. If by some miracle –which he seemed to have in spades lately- he was in Manhattan, a trip to the surface would be enough to direct him home. The biggest problem came in finding a way up top: he'd have to climb to a manhole, and unless one had light shining directly on top of it, he doubted he'd spot any ladders in this darkness. Not to mention the idea of attempting to climb in his condition was… worrisome, to say the least.

He sighed. The whole plan sounded like one long shot after another, and it was still his best bet. But then, he'd survived electrocution, an explosion, and nearly drowning in a sewer pipe, so it might be safe to count luck on his side.

Up it was.

Gathering what little strength he had, Leonardo attempted to stand. A feeble effort, with very little help from his legs, resulting in his feet fumbling beneath him and collapsing under his own weight. So much for the graceful leader. Landing hard on his bottom, he held his right side as more pain shot through him. After mental chastisement at his own weakness, he sucked in another shallow breath and attempted again.

Man, if the guys could see him now.

Thoughts of his family brought newfound stubbornness roiling through his system, giving him enough will to get his feet under him and standing once more. Leaning heavily on the wall for support, legs quaking beneath him, and every muscle raging in active objection, he took another moment to inhale. He was tired already…

Come on, ignore the pain. Pain is in the mind.

A simple step forward rebuked such a thought, shooting a harsh sting through his ribs. He winced, coughing out the ache.

Breathe through it. Focus. Small movements.

Finally managing some form of hobble, Leo hugged the wall as he began his trek through the darkness. Despite his best efforts, the hopelessness that surrounded him refused to dissipate; in all truth, he knew how unlikely it was he would reach home. Having already broken through so many of his limitations, it was doubtful his body could continue such a pace for much longer, especially without food or water to nourish it. And the chances of him actually finding his way home from wherever he was were beyond miniscule.

But he refused to give in to such thoughts. While Leo didn't put much stock in his own worth to the family –particularly after recent events- he could feel their pain. Feel their fear. Whether it was due to his 'loss' or not, he couldn't know, but that sense brought every older brother protective instinct raging to surface, demanding he move forward.

If his family needed him, he would find a way home.

Dragging himself along the wall, Leo followed the brick wherever it led him. A small uphill presented some trouble, but stubbornness once again won the day, allowing him to trudge himself to the top. As he cleared the summit of this most arduous mountain (which in reality was little more than a few feet of twenty degree incline), Leo stopped, desperately in need of breath. He'd never felt more pathetic in his life. He felt his legs quaking beneath him, ready to give out at any moment, so he continued moving, hoping to walk off their quivering.

The darkness seemed to close in around him as he moved, and for the briefest moments, Leo thought he saw Raph in the shadows, being dragged away once more.

Focus, Leo. Move. One foot, then the other.

Keep going.

The tone of the lair had change dramatically since Raph's dance with death twenty-four hours earlier. His heart continued to beat at a steady pace, miraculously growing stronger with every passing hour. Don had no idea how that was possible, but he didn't dare questions it. He simply prayed it wasn't a dream or hallucination his mind was concocting to keep from feeling the pain of reality.

Casey and Mikey remained on either side of the table, both refusing to release Raph's hand. Don couldn't blame them; if he didn't have to be up checking the IV and respirator every few minutes, he'd probably be sitting with his hand on his brother's neck, making sure the pulse was still there. Splinter had also remained on his stool by his son's head, a hand on his shoulder at all times. They were all worried…

Leatherhead was always around, helping Don take care of his brothers. When he wasn't changing an IV or checking vitals, he was inspecting Mikey's injuries and rewrapping bandages. He'd even managed to force Don to sit still long enough to check his burns. And April had been running herself ragged playing mother hen; it was no easy feat trying to get any of the others to eat food at a time like this. The guilt trip approach tended to be the only thing that worked, and while she wasn't a fan of using it, if it kept them all from starving themselves, she'd do what she had to. Keeping the coffee pot constantly full was also a task she took upon herself. Without it, she was certain Don and Casey would have passed out by now. And while she was beyond used to days with little sleep, the emotional rollercoaster they'd all been on this past while had taken a it's toll on her as well; she needed caffeine to keep her going. To keep her thoughts from lingering too long on how close they'd been to losing another brother.

Despite the desperate look of the family clinging to their fallen member, the air was much less dense and heavy than it had been. The blanket of terror that had held them hostage for so long was finally beginning to lift. Every time Don checked Raph's heartbeat to find it stronger, the room warmed, no longer choking them all with raw anguish. For the first time since Raph's incident with their enemy, Don thought it might be possible for his brother to survive. It wouldn't be easy, and his road to recovery would certainly be a long one, but it was finally a possibility. Logic no longer screamed at him to let go, but rather that this battle may actually be won.

It was still possible their red-banded brother could remain in a coma even if recovered from his injuries, but right now that was a reality Don was willing to live with if it meant keeping Raph alive.

Finally, he had hope.

Taking the seat next to Mikey, Donnie checked Raph's pulse one more time before finally taking a breather and sitting still for a moment. It had been a very long twenty-four hours… for all of them. But tired as he was, sleep wasn't an option right now. Not until Raph was truly in the clear.

Turning to glance at the younger turtle, Don could see the exhaustion in his features; as one not used to staying up so much, Mikey was likely more tired than the rest of them. But, as Don, he refused to sleep. The genius turtle could see the bags under his eyes even from where he sat. He'd tried to make his brother sleep once or twice, but like everyone else, Mikey wouldn't have it. He was scared… and Don couldn't blame him. What they'd been through was something out of their worst nightmares, and Don could only imagine that's exactly what Mikey saw every time he closed his eyes.

He wished he knew how to help. He'd tried offering the usual comforts, reminding the younger turtle that Raph was still alive and even getting stronger, but the fear in Mikey's eyes remained. At this rate, it was likely his brother wouldn't perk up until he saw Raph open his eyes. None of them would.

If only he knew what to do; his own emotional turmoil was still weighing heavy on his heart, making it difficult to find ways to be there for the others.

For what had to be the hundred-and-sixty-second time since they got back, Don wished Leo was here. He always knew what to say to lift spirits in this kind of situation. Even when Master Splinter had been ill and Leo looked more lost than any time Don could remember, he still seemed to know exactly what to say to keep them together.

"Hope is stronger than fear."

Don sighed. Hope may be stronger, but fear was so much easier. Offering a small smile at April as she placed a cup of coffee beside him (his sixth so far today), his eyes finally settled on his elder brother on the table: skin still pale, vitals still low, and lungs still needing the aid of the respirator to breathe… he could understand Mikey's worry. By all appearances it didn't look like Raph was in any better shape than he had been before. But something was… different. Don couldn't explain it in any medical or logical terms, but for whatever reason, it seemed like their situation wasn't as dire as it had been. By all accounts it was; Raph could easily have another episode where his heart failed, Don was entirely out of any medication or blood to help him should anything go wrong, and they could end up going through the same mess all over again. Yet there was something that told him not to worry… a small voice in the back of his head that said they were past the worst of it, that Raph would recover, and there was no more need to worry.

He wanted so badly to believe that voice. But he couldn't lose himself to such dreams just yet, lest he be crushed under another powerful smack by reality. For now, he was simply happy to have his inner thoughts more positive.

Taking a sip of his coffee, Don surveyed the room, noting the sincere lack of rest in everyone's faces. Even April, who was as used to late nights as himself, was looking rather worst for wear. The only one who didn't wear their fear and weariness on their face was Master Splinter; how on earth he managed to stay so composed was something Donnie would never understand.

Glancing at his younger brother, Don watched as he put a hand to his head, eyes closing in what looked to be pain. Without even thinking, Don felt his forehead, checking for fever; with how little sleep the younger had been getting, it made sense his infection hadn't disappeared entirely yet. Not to mention his lack of nourishment; it was one of the first times in his life Don had ever seen Mikey refuse food (though the fact that he was only allowed broth probably didn't help). Maybe Sensei could convince him to—

"I'm fine, D." Mikey finally said, taking his brother's hand from his brow. "Just a little headache."

Don nodded, still insisting on feeling his pulse to be sure it wasn't growing too rapid. He could already tell this whole incident was making him paranoid; he'd be checking his brothers' vitals after every training session or rooftop patrol just to make sure they were breathing properly.

That is, if they ever did those things again.

It hadn't been something he'd allowed himself to think on too deeply yet, but even if Raph recovered and woke up, they were still one member short.

Leo was still gone.

Would they still be able to go on patrol? Could they still protect the city without their leader to guide them? Don didn't think of any of his brothers as incompetent, but Leo was the leader for a reason: he was an excellent strategist, a master in reading his opponents, and arguably the best fighter of the four. Without him, how were they supposed to continue? Don could possibly pick up the slack in the strategic area, and Raph didn't need to read an opponent to know how to beat him most times. And Mikey definitely had more raw talent than any of them, if they could get him to focus enough to put it to use…

Don shook his head; was he actually trying to think of ways to replace Leo?! What was wrong with him!? His brother had barely been gone a week and already he was trying to fill his shoes so it was like he didn't exist. Like they didn't need him.

Like they wouldn't feel his missing presence as a dagger to their hearts every day for the rest of their lives.

Another firm shake had him removing those thoughts from his head: focus on Raph. When their brother healed, then they could deal with everything else. Later. Not now. He didn't have the mental or emotional strength to deal with it now, and he doubted the others did either. As he sat in his chair, wishing to close his eyes and wake up to find everyone home safe and sound, one thought seized Don's brain and refused to let go:

What if Raph didn't wake from his coma?

Later. Deal with it later.

It had been surreal, like watching a movie about his life instead of living it. That moment had been the single longest one of Mikey's life and he would forever beg the world to spare him from a repeat experience. Anguish, despair, fear, all gripping his body in a vice, stabbing his heart with pain he was sure would never end.

That moment would be forever seared into his memory, haunting his dreams until his dying day.

That moment Raph had released his hand.

That moment he thought his brother had died.

A reality that denial could no longer shield him from had settled on his shoulders and he couldn't help but fall to his knees under it's immense finality. There were no words, no jokes, no snarky quips or despondent pleas that would make it go away. His heart felt like it shattered, scattering the pieces like shards of glass to attack the rest of his body. Everything shut down under that crushing wall of loss.

It was all too much.

He screamed. A cry of anguish in place of the words he couldn't find.

Raph was dead.

…And then he wasn't.

And then his prayers were answered. And then the universe took pity and gave into his groveling.

A beep shattered the nightmare, breaking through like a baseball through a window.

Mikey had been in such a state of shock that his mind thought it was a dream; a sweet illusion to escape the pain.

But it wasn't. It was real. Thank God it was real.

It took Don forcing his fingers over their brother's wrist to feel a pulse before Mikey's mind truly accepted it, but feeling that faint thrum had banished his despair with such swiftness, his emotions were getting whiplash.

Don's words of comfort kept him from melting into a frantic body of emotion, but there was no way to stop the tears that flowed. Tears of joy, tears of fear, and some tears simply because his heart was still trying to understand whether it was broken or whole.

It had been a rollercoaster of emotions Mikey never wanted to ride again.

As the hours passed and his brother continued to heal, Mikey thought of his family; of their time in that prison and how hard they all fought to protect each other. It reminded him that no matter how much they bugged, poked, prodded, annoyed, or drove one another crazy, they were brothers. First and foremost. And they cared for each other, no matter what.

Even though Raph would never admit it words, his actions spoke volumes. Like how he would take a knife to the chest to keep his baby brother safe.

With how close they'd come to losing their temperamental brother, Mikey was grateful for that moment in the prison where he'd told his siblings how much they meant to him. That he loved them.

He hadn't told Leo.

Their leader was off fighting to free them and hadn't heard Mikey's words of adoration. And now he never would.

But the young turtle didn't have the strength to feel that guilt now. He was barely holding onto his sanity as it was, he couldn't let himself think about their fallen brother. Not yet. Not until Raph got better.

Staring at the pale turtle before him, Mikey could feel the fear creeping into his heart. Every time he looked at his brother, he heard that screeching flat line. Saw the stillness of Raph's chest. It made him cringe every time, clutching to the elder turtle's cold hand even tighter.

It had been so close. And all because Raph had been protecting him.

Don putting a hand to his head brought Mikey back from his thoughts. He hadn't even noticed he'd been holding his temples against the throbbing. After several moments of Don seeming to be frozen staring at nothing, Mikey finally removed his hand. "I'm fine, D. Just a little headache." And as his brother returned to whatever thoughts were swarming his mind, so did Mikey.

He sat staring at his now eldest brother –a thought that sent a shudder of grief through his system- but surprisingly didn't make any silent pleas that Raph awake. Didn't bargain with the universe, swearing to never prank his brothers again if they got out of this alive. He didn't even beg that Raph open his eyes, if only for a moment. He simply sat, holding his brother's hand, knowing that he would pull through. Because Raph wouldn't go down without a fight, he'd proven that already. He had the stubbornness of twenty people, always refused to admit defeat, and never backed down from a challenge.

He would beat this. He would wake up.

Resting his head on Raph's arm, Mikey could still feel the terror of hours before clinging to his heart. He had to continuously remind himself it hadn't ended in tragedy, that Raph was still alive. The fear was still so near, he couldn't let himself close his eyes. Which, of course, didn't go unnoticed by Donnie.

"You shouldn't force yourself to stay awake, Mikey. Your body needs sleep to heal."

The younger sibling shook his head with a grin. "Reprising your role as Pot, I see." The amused smile from his brother was a silent victory that kept him talking. "Well this Kettle won't be sleeping any time soon. There's still plenty of steam in the ol'—"

"Alright, I get it." Don rolled his eyes humorously. "Let the metaphor die already."

In the moment of silence that followed, Mikey watched as his brother's chest rose and fell in slow consistency, ever vigilant to make sure it continued to do so. "What do you think he'll do when he wakes up to see us all hovering over him like this?"

A snort from Casey turned their attention. "Probably try an' walk it off, spoutin' his usual 'just a scratch' line." And how Casey wished he would.

Mikey nodded. Knowing Raph, the intimate attention coupled with the vulnerability of being laid up in bed would be an endless source of embarrassment. Yet still, none of them would leave until they'd seen Raph open his eyes. Which brought another unwanted thought to the surface. "Don?"

Noticing the tentativeness in his brother's voice, the genius turtle couldn't bring himself to turn and face Mikey, unsure of what he would see in the young turtle's features. "Yeah?"

"…How long do coma's last?"

And just like that, Don could feel his shoulders bow under the power of fear. He shrugged, trying not to let it show. "Depends. They've been recorded to last anywhere from twenty-four hours to…" He glanced over at the pale turtle beside him. "…A very long time."

"So… Do you think Raph—"

"He's going to wake up, Mikey. I… don't know when, or even how at this point," and he didn't care to ask for fear of ruining their good fortune. "But I know he will."

The adamancy of Don's tone was a comfort, but Mikey still couldn't help the powerlessness that crawled through his skin. He wanted to help. He wanted to do something to make this all go faster. To do something to bring his brother back.

He wanted to talk with Raph again. Wanted to see his green angry eyes and permanent scowl.

Wanted to apologize for getting him hurt.

But Don looked entirely convinced that Raph would wake, and if their resident doctor believed it, it must be true.

And with that through in his mind, Mikey laid his head back on Raph's arm.

Raph would wake up. He had to.

It was endless. This darkness that surrounded him seemed to go on into eternity. No light, no indication he was moving in the right direction, or even that he was moving at all. If not for the pain in his feet, Leonardo couldn't have been sure he was even walking; he could just as easily have been passed out, simply dreaming of finding home.

Can't focus on the darkness. Just keep moving. These tunnels can't go on forever, something will show up eventually; a light, an exit, anything.

Just. Keep. Moving.

After what felt like walking for a week, Leo was beyond exhausted. He knew he could last several more days without food or water (one more reason to be thankful for being a turtle), and he knew he wouldn't bleed to death anytime soon, but if weariness didn't drag him to sleep for a month, he was sure he couldn't move another inch. Taking yet another of his many breaks, he panted for air while leaning on the wall. Where was any of this getting him? For all he knew, he'd only walked himself right back to where he'd started. He could be walking in a giant circle and never know!

Focusing on breathing while he tried to calm his nerves, Leo's mind wandered –as it always did- back to his family. Back to the lair, to Splinter, to April and Casey. Back to his brothers. Particularly Raph.

The dream of Raph being pulled away to the darkness wasn't easily shaken from his thoughts. It had felt so real… the connection so potent. But when he woke, that connection was gone. Not diminished, not fading, just gone. The panic that arose at what it might mean had taken great effort to calm, but Leo finally managed to get himself under control; whatever was happening with his younger brother, there was nothing he could do until he got home.

His sibling's fearful faces as they'd left him behind once again flashed across his eyes. A shake of his head wasn't enough to rid him of such memories anymore; in his tired state, his mind was having troubles separating reality from remembrance. He took a deep breath, mumbling a mantra Splinter had taught him to help focus.

Had to stay alert. Keep going.

Forcing his tired legs to move, Leo continued onward.

Find home.

Several hours more into his endless walk, Leo began to feel dizziness overcome him. What little vision he had was blurred and his head felt like a weight trying to topple over. He paused yet again, trying to get a handle on the new symptom.

Come on, focus. Don't give up.

"Don't give up, Donnie. You can do it!"

"I can't make it, Leo!" Fifteen year old Donatello dangled from a metal crossing over a water basin, holding tight to the railing with all the strength he had. Fear coursed through his veins and was made plain on his face as he glanced from the railing down to his older brother who swayed at the end of the rope in his other hand.

"Yes you can!" Leo shouted his encouragement whilst gripping the rope tight, watching as the other end began to slip from his brother's grasp. He'd tried to climb up the line, but it only made Don lose his grip even more, so he was stuck where he was. Glancing down, Leo gulped. A fall from their height would certainly hurt, but it was the raging whirlpool of water below that worried him most.

The young genius, railing in one hand and his brother's lifeline in the other, strained once more as he tried to pull himself up one-armed. No progress was made, but the struggle did weaken him enough to let the rope slip further through his hand. Don turned back to his brother in terror. "LEO!"

"It's Ok, Donnie! Don't panic. Try—"

"Leo, my hand's slipping!"

"Just hold on—"

"—I can't pull us up!"

"Yes you can—"

"No I can't! I'm not Raph, I don't have that kind of arm strength! There's no way I can—"

"DONNIE!" Leo finally managed to be heard over his brother's panic. "Look at me." He waited till the other looked down at him once more. "It's gonna be alright. I promise, you're going to be OK. Do you trust me?"

Don whimpered, gulping down his fear as he nodded his head. "I trust you, Leo. But I can't—"

"You can. I know you can."

"But I'm not—!"

"Don." Leo gave him the most confident look he could muster, despite the rapidly growing fear attacking his every thought as the rope slipped further through his brother's hand. "Take a breath. You're a genius, remember? Work the problem. You can do it."

His words must have sunk in because the look of determination that crossed his younger brother's face was enough to calm Leo's nerves, at least slightly.

"OK." Don gulped down his fear, mentally calculating, trying to find a way to get them both to safety. His hand on the railing slipped even further as he tried to squash the panic attacking his mind. "O-Ok, I think I got it." Whipping his legs back and forth, Don started to work up a swinging motion.

"What're you—?"

"If I can swing you high enough, do you think you can make it back to the tunnel?"

Leo looked to the circular opening in the wall leading to the sewer the bridge connected to and nodded; they were only a few feet away, if Don gave him enough of a swing, he could make it. Hopefully. "One way to find out."

"R-Right." Clearly not the answer he was looking for, but Leo didn't give it another thought. He added his own force to the swing, helping them gain more altitude. "This is it, Leo! I don't think we can get any higher!"

"Here goes." The elder turtle whispered to himself as he prepared on the back swing. When the roped pulled him forward and up, he waited till it was at it's peak –only just lower than the bridge itself- before letting go. He sailed through the air towards the tunnel, heading straight for the wall beside it. Thank Splinter for his training; Leo twisted so his legs hit the wall, using the force of his impact as a springboard to propel him up and over the bridge.

Making a mental note about how cool that must have looked, Leo ran across the metal bridge, grabbing his brother just as his grip on the railing failed him. "I gottcha bro."

Hauling Donnie over to safety, the two puffed for air as adrenaline coursed through their veins, both looking down to the whirling water below as it swallowed remaining bits of pipe that fell from above. Don looked over at his brother sheepishly, still panting for breath. "Thanks Leo."

"Don't thank me, it was your plan. You just saved both our lives." Seeing the look of pride that crossed his brothers face made Leo put a hand to his shell. "Nice job, Donnie." Yet he couldn't help but add, "Though next time you want to follow a gizmo through the abandoned areas of the sewers, maybe make sure the pipes are more sturdy."

"At least I insisted we hold the rope to keep track of each other in the dark. Otherwise you'd have been heading to a water treatment plant by now."

The two shared a laugh as Leo helped his brother stand straight. "We better get home before the bridge starts to collapse too."

"Yeah, haha!" Don laughed before looking down at the metal beneath his feet, suddenly feeling it to be very unsteady. "L-Leo, wait up!"

The memory faded like rippling water from his vision, but he could still picture his brother's face clear as day. When they got back to the lair, Leo had found out Don pulled a muscle from the force of catching him, yet he never let go of that rope. His younger brother had been young, terrified, and injured, and still managed to find a way out for the both of them. Still fought his own self-doubt to save his brother.

Leonardo managed a small smile at the thought before his features set in resolution. Taking another deep breath, he focused on allowing the oxygen to feed his tired muscles.

Pressing onward, Leo clung to the memory of his brother's strength, making it his own.

If Don wouldn't give up, neither could he.

Enjoying a sip of his tea, Splinter looked around the room at it's inhabitants for the third time that hour; with the exception of Donatello, everyone had fallen asleep.

It had been over thirty-six hours since they nearly lost Raphael, and only about three hours ago did the group start to drain. Droopy eyes and slack faces abounded as yawns spread like a disease, reminding them all how little sleep they'd had the past two weeks. Surprisingly, Casey had been the first to go, falling with his head against Raphael's arm and a light snore cutting the silence. Next had been Leatherhead, who slept sitting against the wall at the back of the room; he's only allowed himself to close his eyes when Raphael's vitals looked steady, IV's had been replaced, and all turtle's injuries were cleaned and rewrapped. Splinter knew after everything that transpired, it would be impossible to thank his friend for all his help, but he would certainly never stop trying. He was beyond grateful for all Leatherhead had done.

Mikey finally succumbed to sleep about an hour ago, his battered body still fighting an infection had demanded rest, prying the young turtle's eyes from his brother and forcing them closed. His hand still gripped Raphael's, unwilling to let go even in sleep. April followed soon after, her cup of coffee clearly not a match for the weariness overtaking her mind. She slept with her head on Casey's shoulder, taking comfort in his presence, despite the snoring.

As he looked around, it warmed Splinter's heart to see how loved his son was. It had been apparent from a young age that Raphael felt like the odd one out due to his distinct personality; quick to anger made it difficult to make 'friends' with his brothers from time to time, deeply embarrassed by any kind of overt affection made connecting that much harder, and his definitive dislike for touch –unless violent- hadn't always been easy for his brothers to understand. There had even been several times –once to his face- that his son had admitted to feeling unloved by Splinter himself. It pained the Father to hear his son feel such things, particularly when he was so clearly a necessary part of their family. So cherished, flaws, strengths, and all. While sometimes stubborn and hot-tempered, Raphael was no more difficult than his other sons, and certainly no less loved. If only his second eldest could see how worried they all were for him. How hard they fought to keep him from leaving. How desperately they clung to his life.

Taking another sip of tea, Splinter ran a hand over Raphael's forehead, lovingly stroking his son as childhood memories danced in front of his mind; playing games with his brothers, protecting them from the monsters under their beds or in the sewers, refusing to let tears fall as he walked off the pain of a scraped knee. He was a unique and fascinating wonder, his Raphael. "Oh, my son." Splinter couldn't help the tear that rolled down his cheek, unsure whether it was a remnant of the fear he'd felt from nearly losing his child, or joy at knowing he was still with them.

Taking a moment to study his son's features, his skin still far too pale for comfort, it struck Splinter how vulnerable his boy looked. It was rare to see Raphael without his natural hardened expression. With how guarded his son had grown over the years, Splinter always cherished the moments when it was just the two of them, and Raphael would drop his facades to let Splinter see his fears and doubts. To let his Father comfort him. Because every time he did, it reminded the Father of how strong of heart his son was.

It was the same with Leonardo.

Despite their constant insistence to the contrary, his two older children were so very similar in many ways.

Once again the Father was assaulted by grief at the thought of his eldest. He wasn't sure he'd come to terms with having lost yet another loved one, but for now he knew to simply be grateful it wasn't two. Or all four.

Despite their loss, they had been very lucky. Had Saki not been driven so mad by revenge, he easily could have ended the four ninjas' lives in that prison. And Splinter would thank his good fortunes every night for not having to face that hell. For having his sons returned to him.

For keeping his reasons to live.

Finally taking his eyes off Raphael, the old rat turned his attention to his middle child. Donatello hadn't slept since his body forced him to after the surgery, which had been days ago. His every feature was haggard and drooping, clearly begging for respite. But knowing his son, Donatello was likely not to rest until Raphael was well again, and who knew how long that could be…

"It'll be soon. It has to be soon."

The mumblings of his son were clearly not meant to be said out loud. Splinter placed his tea beside him on a tray, looking to the tall turtle. "Donatello?" The purple-clad turtle realized his slip and tensed at his father's voice. "What troubles you, my son?"

Watching as his son's shoulders shrugged in a heavy sigh, Splinter waited patiently for him to speak. When he finally did it was quiet, as though a confession of guilt. "He'll wake up, Sensei. I know he will. He wouldn't fight so hard to live only to be stuck in a coma."

"Sometimes the choice is out of our hands." Splinter said, voice equally as quiet. He glanced down at his son's closed eyes, allowing his sorrow to flit across his features for only a moment.

"I know, Sensei…" But that's what worried him; the cruel irony of it all that Raph could have fought so long and hard to live, only to never wake up.

Standing from his stool, Splinter walked to his son by the life-support machine and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Your brother will find his way home, that is what matters most. And whether it takes hours or years, we will be here waiting for him."

Don couldn't turn to face his father, but the hand on his shoulder was more comforting than he would have expected. "Hai, Sensei." He knew his father was right, but that didn't make any of this easier. Especially knowing that the coma was his fault. If he'd just seen that knick in the artery sooner…

"Donatello." Turning the tall turtle so they were face to face, Splinter held both his son's arms, squeezing them gently. He could see the guilt still stinging his heart and it pained the Father to watch it slowly eat at his soul. "You saved your brothers' lives, both Michelangelo and Raphael. Your brilliance with medicine has brought them home." He saw Don try to avert his gaze to the floor and cupped a hand under his chin to look him eye to eye.

"Despite your doubt, you have proven yourself not only a great ninja, but an even greater brother." His tone softened as guilt flashed across Don's face. "I am proud of you, my son. And I am forever grateful to have you home safe."

It was unexpected praise, and Don couldn't help but let the warmth of it wash over him. He wrapped his arms around his Father, realizing this was the third time Splinter had stayed his guilt, and enjoyed the comfort it brought. Even if it was only temporary. "Thanks Dad…"

A sudden loud snore from Casey not only interrupted the moment, but woke the remaining inhabitants of the room. April huffed an annoyed sigh as she smacked the sleeping vigilante upside the arm, waking him so suddenly he stood with fists ready to attack whatever assailed him. Leatherhead also was quick to his feet, but relaxed upon seeing there was no danger around.

"I don't understand how you sleep through that at night, April." Don jibed, pulling away from his Father to take his seat by Mikey.

"You think I'm a night owl by choice? This guy snores loud enough to register on the Richter scale."

Casey could only shrug as Don's face pulled into a light smile. Leatherhead was sure to keep out of the squabble, staring at the heart monitor to check Raph's vitals.

"At least now we have a way to wake Raph up." Mikey piped in, trying to move away from the horror that had come upon him at realizing he'd fallen asleep.

"Ha. Ha." Casey replied, deadpan. "Bunch'a comedians here."

"Don't be mad, Case; we're only concerned for your well being. After all, hell hath no fury like a woman sleep deprived."

Don was revving up to explain ways in which Casey might cure his snoring problem, when Mikey suddenly gripped his arm tightly. "Mikey, what—" A glance down at his brother's hand answered his question, his face now wearing the same look of fearful excitement as the younger's: Raph was squeezing his hand.

"Raph!?" Apparently he was doing the same to Casey.

All eyes now focused on the red-banded turtle. His chest stopped rising and, for a moment, Don thought the worst was happening… again.

But then he saw it: Raph's eyes moved.

A miracle.

"Raphael!" Splinter stood by his son's head, his stool once again falling over in his haste.

It looked like a bitter fight for consciousness as his eyes twitched repeatedly. Mikey squeezed his brother's hand between both his own. "Come on bro. You can do it."

His eyelids settled, no longer moving. No one breathed.

And finally, eyes peeled open to reveal weak pupils slowly blinking at the ceiling. The relief that poured from the room was audible, everyone releasing the breath they'd be holding in their own way. Don didn't let solace settle long, quickly leaning into his brother's field of view. "Raph!? Raph, blink if you can hear me!"

A very slow, very pained blink proceeded, and again the others wanted to cheer in anxious joy.

Taking a quick glance at his brother's vitals, Don saw that, while still very weak by comparison to a healthy rate, they were much more stable than they had been. His mind fought to find the detail he was missing; that one little thing that he'd overlooked that would sneak up and pull his brother away from him once more, or prove this was all a dream.

But none came.

Raph really was awake. Breathing normal.

Alive.

And finally, Don could let the relief swallow him.

Placing his hand on Raph's shoulder, he looked into his brother's weak eyes and offered a very small, very tentative smile. "Welcome back, Raph."

Mikey could have ran laps around the lair he was so excited to see his brother awake. "Dude, don't EVER do that again. You scared us all to death!"

What almost looked like a smile cracked at Raph's lips as the elder turtle gave his brother's hand another squeeze. An attempt to talk only ended with a cough spewing from his chest, fogging the respirator over his mouth.

"Easy, Raph. Take it easy. Don't try to talk just yet." Don helped Raph turn his head until the coughing stopped so he wouldn't choke. He could see confusion in Raph's face as he weakly looked around the room at all the concerned yet happy faces.

And just as soon as they'd open, his eyes closed again. Mikey looked as though someone just ripped out his heart. "It's OK, Mikey." Don tried to quell the panic before it began tearing through his brother's mind. "He's just resting." Waking likely took more effort than Raph's body could muster, so resting would be good for him. And as far as he –and medical science- knew, there were no cases of people waking from coma's only to fall back into them immediately after.

His heart was stable, lungs were beginning to function properly, and now his mind was back amongst the living. While he was still weak as a frail branch, it seemed the worst was behind them.

Raph was going to be OK.

Of course they'd have to worry about brain damage from those minutes his heart hadn't been pumping oxygen, and nerve or tissue damage from the stab wounds, but those were all problems that could be addressed as Raph healed. And right now, Donnie just wanted to focus on the fact that he was alive.

Mikey stared forlornly at his brother's closed eye. It took everything in him not to shake Raph awake just to she could see those green iris's again. But, like Don, he was simply trying to remind himself that at least his brother would live.

Don and Mikey wouldn't be alone.

Taking his seat once again, Mikey rewrapped the blanket around his brother, ensuring comfort, before settling back down and holding his brother's hand.

They were almost whole again.

Almost.

Deep in the unknown, wading through darkness, Leonardo fought to keep himself awake. Fought to keep moving. Weariness plagued his every effort, pulling him down with every step.

But he refused to give in.

Determination set a fire in his mind, strong enough to will himself to continue on this seemingly endless journey.

Determination born of his need to see home once again. To see his friends, Casey and April. To see his Father, Master Splinter.

To see his brothers, alive and well.

Had to find his brothers.

Barring any sudden detours by the turtles, all should be finished in two more chapters (plus an epilogue).

I make no promises as to when the updates will come; work has been usurping all my free time lately. But as I said before, I cannot sleep until this story is finished, so you won't be left high and dry.

As always, I've enjoyed reading your reviews. Intense has become my new favorite word.

End of line.

-TRAaP

P.S- last week marked the fourth month since this journey started. I can honestly say I did not think it would last this long, but I'm also strangely proud of how much progress has been made in that time. …booyah?