Well, it's been far too long hasn't it my dear readers? RL has played a big part in it and also when writers block hits I start drawing to get my inspiration back again. I'll admit this chapter feels a little disjointed but hopefully you can follow it? Remember you guys are the best and I appreciate every, fav, comment and follow. Come hell or high water I will finish this story! Let's catch up with what poor GP is doing? Huh? Good!

MNID*

Chapter 19 Painful Memories

GP had long since abandoned the hard floor for the softer cot bed hours ago. Arm folded under as his head rested upon it, the young teen stared mutely ahead at the bars that he now knew thrummed with potentially deadly energy. He was (to be honest), getting sick of the view. He sighed and rolled onto his shell, briefly sighting the science themed posters stuck to practically the only wall in the prison. Just above his head was the periodic table and the pi symbol. And further up was a range of different equations which he had found fascinating as a child.

To think he had once seen this place as his bedroom, led to believe that the bars were there because his 'father' was worried about him and he just wanted to keep eyes on him at all times. Dear Darwin! Had he really been that freaking naive?? An unwanted, almost half forgotten memory swirled into his mind. GP clenched his eyes shut and tried to banish it from the forefront of his brain but it rushed through like a deluge and he was abruptly swept away in the flood completely at its mercy.

MNID*

11 years ago…

GP was laid on his front a look of deep concentration across his young face as he sketched his idea down on his drawing pad. His tongue stuck out as he narrowed his eyes at the final details he wanted to include in his invention. He'd already spent days planning and now, at last he was almost done. He couldn't wait to show his father, he just had to like this one! He had too!

"Yes!" done! As a final flourish he wrote his name under the title of his invention and his age. "Age four years old," he murmured as he wrote everything down.

With a little whoop of glee GP jumped to his feet and whipped up his drawing pad and ran out the open door of his room.

"Father!" he shouted gleefully, jumping to a stop behind his guardian.

"AH!" Father's hands skittered off the keyboard of his laptop and abruptly whirled about. "GP! I thought I'd locked your bedroom door!"

GP giggled. "No! It's not teatime yet!" he beamed. He immediately held up his pad. "Look! What do you think? I spent three days inventing it!"

"A hole puncher?" his father said dryly, barely glancing at the page as he turned back to his own work. "I'm afraid hole punchers have already been invented GP."

"No father, it's not a 'hole puncher!' It's a ring puncher! See?" he pointed at his diagram.

"Same difference GP," his father said dismissively, not turning around.

GP tried to keep the smile on his face as he felt his spirits start to drop. "No, no father! It's not! It punches rings into plastic with an integral heating element! And I designed it so it can punch through all thicknesses! You can also change the cutter so you can create different size plastic rings!" He willed his father to look around and much to his delight he did.

His father looked at the diagram, scrutinizing with an interest that he rarely showed with GP's work. He leant back in his swivel chair looking slightly taken aback. He glanced back briefly at his laptop and back at GP's drawing. He then glanced at the ground obviously deep in thought. He bit his bottom lip and his eyes narrowed.

At long last father finally looked up.

"What do you think father? Do you like it?" GP gazed up hopefully, his chest tightening with tense anticipation.

"Welll," he father drawled out sigh. "It's okay GP, but-"

But? GP's hopeful smile wobbled.

"Your idea here, it's been done before."

"It-it has?" the smile slipped clear off his innocent face.

"I did it in fact."

A look of utter disbelief filled GP's features. "Y-you did?"

His father took the drawing pad off of him and looked over his design again. "Oh absolutely GP," he affirmed with an assertive nod. "You must have overheard me talking about it? Right GP?"

Totally confused GP started to wring his hands together. "Er, I-I-," he was pretty sure he hadn't overheard father speak of such an invention. He'd come up with the idea when he heard his father complaining that the only way he could manufacture plastic rings for one of his projects was a laborious process that he didn't have time for.

"It's not nice to steal and plagerise somebody's else's hard work, is it GP?"

GP gulped down the broadening lump in his throat. "N-no," he stammered. "B-but, I-"

"Look," his father declared, tearing GP's design out of his pad and handing the pad back to him. "Why don't you think up another idea GP?"

"Wh-what?" GP felt his bottom lip wobble involuntarily.

"Come now GP! Even you with your average intellect can think up another bright idea not based on somebody else's?"

The child twinned his fingers together, toes shuffling on the spot. "Y-yes father," he uttered timidly.

His father gave him an assertive nod. "Good GP," he then stood and ushered the boy back to his 'room'. "Tea will be along shortly GP, entertain yourself for a bit whilst I sort something first, okay?"

GP took a breath and nodded. "Yes father," he said quietly, hugging his sketchbook to his chest.

The door locked and GP watched as Stockman gathered a few things and took them along with his ring puncher idea with him out the lab door.

The click of the door confirmed that GP was now completely alone, for a short while at least. A painful lump swelled in the toddler's throat. He needed a hug so bad that it actually hurt. He sniffed dragging a hand across his snout, his purple cloth (tied about his head), slipping across his shoulder and into his vision. He frowned as a sudden thought occurred to him. GP dropped to the ground, flipping open his sketchbook and snatching up his pencil he began to madly scribble down his idea.

Half an hour later and still no sign of father, GP was tugging through a small plastic box full of things that he had salvaged from the lab. A screwdriver, a wrench, a hammer and a metal rule amongst other things. He finally pulled out what he wanted, scissors and a darning needle that he'd made himself when he had to sew a patch onto the knee of his trousers. He snipped out shapes from his sketchbook and pulled his precious stretch of purple fabric from his head before reseating his oversized goggles back into place.

The fabric was carefully stretched out and he placed the paper shapes onto it. He took up a pen and carefully drew around each shape. When he was done he removed the paper pattern and cut out the shapes he had drawn. Once he was done he cut a straight edge along the fabric and tied it back about his head again, slipping his goggles back in place.

An hour later, his stomach rumbling and father still absent, GP was sewing and stuffing purple shapes together. He kept a brave face as he sewed on limbs to a little purple body with a long tail. GP finished the final stitch, securing the knot that made the second eye and snipped the thread. Done. He gathered every piece of equipment used and replaced them in his plastic box, secreting them away under his bed.

GP picked up his finished piece and gave the rag doll a lopsided smile as his eyes began to sting. The light bulb above flickered and went out. Bedtime and no tea. Father had forgotten, again. GP hugged the purple rat doll to his plastron and climbed into bed wrapping the blanket around him. His stomach gurgled again and it was the only encouragement that the young child's fragile emotions needed. The boy burst into tears, bringing the self made toy to his chest as he sobbed about his hunger, about being alone, about the lights being on a timer, about the cold, but most of all he cried about his ring puncher invention and how father claimed that he'd stolen his idea.

"It's-it's n-not fair Ed-Edison," GP hiccuped, naming the rag doll rat after the flickering lightbulb that he desperately wanted back on. "It's my idea, it's-it's my idea," he whimpered and drew the toy tighter to his chest.

MNID*

GP let out a yell of frustration and upset and slammed his fist against the side of the wall. There was a scrunch of paper and the youth frowned, lowering his hand. He glanced across, narrowing his eyes and suddenly sat up, folding his legs beneath him. Taped to the walls at the eye level of a child lying down was a row of child drawings that GP had done when he was five years old. He'd almost forgotten all about them. He was pretty sure he'd drawn them a few days before Stockman moved him. Since the man had never furnished GP with a set of crayons or colour pencils, the pictures were in plain graphite, slightly smudged from his younger self as he'd ran longing fingers over them.

The first picture was of a rag toy that he'd made for himself from the material of his precious purple cloth which he'd long since lost. "Edison," he murmured wistfully. He'd dearly loved that purple rat. GP sighed. The lost innocence of youth.

The next two pages were tacked together to make one long and meaningful picture. It was a family portrait, drawn by his five year old hand. First was chichi with a name written above his head. Then there were his three brothers Leo entitled as 'The Brave One', Raphael as 'The Strong One' and Mikey as 'The Fun One'. Then tacked on the end, almost as an afterthought was a separate sheet of paper with a drawing of himself wearing his goggles, scarf and trousers, and written above it were the words, 'The Lost One'.

GP felt a painful pang in his breast. When Stockman had moved him from this lab the pictures were left behind and with them the memory of his family. He'd forgotten all about them, only after being reunited with them had those long lost memories started to resurface. He stared at the sketches and his sights lingered over Raphael's. "The strong one," he whispered and his brow furrowed. Why had he written that? GP glanced to the side. The strong one? Well, Raph was strong but, what had made him write that? He was only two when Stockman found him and he was five when he'd drawn the picture, so, so why had he-?

He sighed and glanced out the bars at the small lab beyond and glimpsed a stack of books piled on a desk. A book. Any book would be nice to read right about now, anything to break the monotony, to cut through his lingering angst. If he could only reach one-

GP inhaled sharply. Books! Lots of books and a shelf! The recollection slid into his mind as sharply as if it had only happened yesterday. He remembered why he'd nick named Raphael 'The Strong One.'

Thirteen and a half years ago….

Eighteen month old Donnie couldn't sleep. He hooked his arms over the side of the cot railing and stared into the dimly lit room. Chichi had left a book on the floor. He tilted his head and glanced back at his slumbering brothers before hitching his leg over the side of the cot and hauled himself over and slid to the floor. He landed on his bottom and toddled over to the book. He smiled as he flipped the pages and looked at the words and the pictures. He pointed to the words and then at the picture above. "Dog!" He said feeling pleased with himself.

However the book was too short and Donnie sat back and sighed glumly. He still wasn't tired. He wanted another book. He looked over at the nursery bookshelf but the thought of looking at another short book made him shake his head. He wanted bigger words, more words! More to read!

He sat and thought for a moment, where were there more books? Chichi had books, loads of books all stacked up and he knew where chichi kept them. Donnie pulled himself up and left the nursery.

No less than a minute later the tot was standing in front of a towering bookcase. Donatello smiled as he gazed across the titles until he stopped when he saw his favourite, the one he made chichi read to him over and over again, 'Practical Chemistry'. There was one small problem. The book was way out of his reach, right up on the tippy top shelf. He stood and pondered this for a moment. He needed something to make himself taller.

Glancing around he suddenly spotted the foot stool that belonged to the armchair that chichi sat in to read to him. Perfect! He rushed over and pushed it into place. Donnie clambered on top of it and stretched up as high as he could, but despite being the tallest out of all his brothers, the tot still wasn't quite tall enough to reach his favourite book.

He frowned and looked up the several shelves that separated him from the book. Maybe he could…? Donnie started to climb. He hauled himself up one shelf and reached out, no. Not high enough. Donnie pulled himself up another shelf and reached. No! Still not high enough! He stuck out his tongue as he concentrated on his climb and hauled himself even higher. He reached out his arm and his fingers brushed the spine of the book. Yes! Almost! He pushed himself up on tippy toes and managed to grab the spine and then that's when it happened. The book shelf creaked. Donnie put his foot down to try and get off the shelf and that was all the encouragement the bookcase needed. With a mighty groan the piece of furniture fell forwards, tipping out every book and taking little Donnie with it with a frightened cry.

There was an almighty CRASH! And before he knew it Donnie was trapped underneath the bookcase. It took a few moments after the shock of the fall for the toddler to register the pain in his arm and leg. He couldn't move. The bookcase was heavy and weighed down on his plastron and it hurt. It hurt so much! He couldn't help it, Donnie burst into tears and screamed for his chichi.

Surely chichi had heard the crash? He struggled and squirmed, cried, shouted and screamed some more but chichi never came. Where was he?! He was scared and he hurt all over. He wanted to get out! He wanted-

Donnie suddenly heard footsteps approach. "Chichi! Chichi help!"

However the deep resonant tone of his father didn't answer him and the footsteps stopped. Then he heard something drop to the floor and he saw a green hand. Donnie caught his breath and suddenly a set of emerald green eyes locked with his.

"Raphie!" He cried, reaching out with his free hand. "I'm stuck! Get chichi!"

Raphie however didn't run for help like Donnie had hoped. He just stared right back at him. His brothers vocabulary wasn't as diverse as his but they did know a handful of words. "Don, ow?" He looked worried.

Donnie sniffed and managed an awkward nod. "Big ow Raphie," he uttered tearfully. "Please g-get chichi, it-it hurts, please Raphie," he whimpered as small sobs pulled at his chest.

A strange expression overcame Raphie's features and at first Donnie didn't know what to make of it until his older brother spoke again. "Don, no, no cry," and he hooked his chubby digits under the side of the bookcase as he finally stood up.

Donnie panicked. "Raphie no! It's too heavy! Get chichi!" He pleaded.

"No!" Raphie snapped back.

To little Donatello's absolute shock, Raphie started to lift the bookcase and suddenly he could breathe more easily as the pressure was raised off his chest.

"Don out?"

Donnie needed no further encouragement and wriggled free, at last crawling clear of the bookcase. He laid on his plastron, trembling and sensed Raphie kneel beside him.

"Don, okay?"

The lump that had swollen in his throat stretched just that little bit further and he curled his arms about his head and started to sob once again. "N-no, it hurts! It-it hurts all over!"

Donnie felt a hand resting on his head for a moment and then Raphie was pulling on his arm. "Raphie! That hurts!" He cried out plaintively.

"Up!"

Donnie sniffed, then realising what his brother was trying to do. He pulled himself up and gripped Raphie's hand as he led him out of the room.

They were halfway across the main chamber of the lair when he heard a familiar sound. He looked across to the turnstiles and saw chichi.

Tears flooded his eyes and he couldn't hold back any longer. "Chichi!"

The giant robed rat immediately looked up and dropped the duffel bag he was holding and raced over to the pair of them. "Boys!" He exclaimed in alarm. "Why are you out of your cot?"

Donnie released Raphie's hand and rushed up to chichi, raising his arms. "Bookcase! The bookcase fell on me chichi!" Donnie sobbed.

"What?!" Chichi scooped him up into his arms. "Donatello, why were you by the bookcase my son?"

The tot sniffed, "I wanted a book, an-an I couldn't reach it!"

Chichi enveloped Donnie in his arms and he buried his face in the maroon folds. "Are you hurt?" He asked softly.

Donnie's head bobbled against his father's robe.

"Let's have a proper look," chichi murmured. "Come here Raphael," he said as he picked him up too.

In the lowered seating area he set them down. "Donatello, where does it hurt?" He asked gently.

Donnie sniffed, clutching one hand against his upper arm. "Ev-everywhere," he whimpered. "Th-the bookcase was on top of me."

At this chichi frowned curiously. "How did you get out my son?"

Donnie reached for his older brother's hand and the boy looked at him questioningly. "Ra-Raphie, li-lifted th-the bookcase," he uttered.

Splinter's brows raised in astonishment. "Really?"

Donnie nodded mutely.

A benign smile spread across chichi's face. "You are indeed a strong little warrior Raphael," a hand came out and petted the boy's head. "You rescued you little brother."

A proud little smile seemed to spill across Raphie's face. He tapped his plastron. "Strong!"

"That's right Raphael," Splinter smiled more prominently. He turned back to Donnie. "You should be okay Donatello, just a few bruises," he uttered gently. "But no more climbing the bookcase, is that understood?" He intoned gently.

Donnie nodded with a "hai chichi," before he put his arms out for another hug which chichi didn't hesitate to give him.

"Let's get you two back to bed," the giant rat whispered to them as he gathered them up into his arms again.

Moments later they were back in their cot, their other two brothers still slumbering soundly. "Sleep tight little ones," Splinter hushed them as he pulled a blanket over them.

Donnie listened as chichi left the room and closed the door quietly behind him. Just as his eyes drifted shut he felt a strong little hand grasp his. He peered drowsily across. "Stay," Raphie mumbled before gentle snores drifted across.

"Thank you Raphie," Donnie murmured back as sleep finally claimed him. "Strong one."

MNID*

GP's fingers drifted away from the picture feeling a painful pinch in his heart. He felt himself sinking back onto the mattress, staring at the family portrait his eyes, (despite all his efforts) starting to sting all over again. Don't cry, don't cry, it's not going to help you is it? The youth sniffed deeply trying to pull it all in and centre himself but it proved just too difficult. He buried his face in his pillow, his hands sweeping underneath it as he attempted to muffle his sorrows. His fingers slipped onto something soft and lumpy and with a slight frown he pushed himself up and pulled out whatever it was.

GP gasped in shock as a very familiar purple face stared up at him. "Edison?" He whimpered almost in disbelief. "What, what are you doing here?" The boy nipped his bottom lip, caressing a floppy ear as he stared into the rag toy's knotted eyes. "Do-do you have any idea, h-how much I've missed you?" He uttered plaintively.

GP sniffed again, trying to swallow down the lump rising in his throat. He briefly shut his eyes, his gloved hand glancing across the beading tears that were bleeding into his mask. "Oh Edison, d-do you think they'll find me? M-my family?" He pushed back a hiccup. "Did-did I ever tell you about my big brother? Wh-when I was very young, h-he saved me, wh-when I g-got trap-trapped under a-a bookcase. He-he was so strong Edison, h-he's even stronger now," a rogue tear escaped and rolled freely down his lacerated cheek. "He'll save me, won't he Edison? Right?" GP's bottom lip wobbled as another tear sought to find its freedom. "Raphie will save me? I-l can't stay here," another woeful sniff. "I want to go home, I-I want my family-"

GP hugged Edison under his chin as he pulled a blanket over him, and bit his bottom lip as the sobs began to roll up his chest. "Pl-please find me Raphie, please find me," he whimpered between sobs as the lights suddenly flicked off. How he hated the dark.

MNID*