April took Casey and the Turtles to a farm in upstate New York that belonged to her family. It was far away from the city. She thought it would be a good place for them to hide. Raphael would have a chance to get well. They'd have time to make a plan to beat The Foot and save Splinter.

There were just a few problems in their way, though. Casey was a good mechanic and could fix anything. That was a good thing because many things at the farm were broken, including April's van. But it seemed that the thing Casey was the best at was hurting people's feelings and calling them names, like the way he told April about the message Charles had left on her machine right before they escaped.

"This is a good news/bad news situation," Casey had said. "The bad news is that the van is broken because the block's got a crack in it about the size of the San Andreas fault, so you'd have to walk four miles to the neighbour's to call Charles and tell him you're taking some time off. The good news is that you don't have to make the trip. Charles called you. I heard him leave a message on your machine. You got fired!"

April thought Casey was the most insensitive man she'd ever met.

The Turtles had spent their entire lives living, learning, and working together. They had always been an inseparable quartet. The beating they'd taken at the hand of The Foot seemed to end all that.

Raphael, critically injured by The Foot, spent his days in a bath half filled with water. His pulse was weak, his breathing tortured, and, worst of all for a turtle, his shell was soft. He was alive, but just barely.

Leonardo almost never moved from Raphael's side. There was nothing he could do for his brother, but being with Raphael was like being by himself. That was what he wanted.

Michelangelo trained. He spent all his time in the barn, working on his ninja skills. He concentrated so hard on the skills of battle to death that it seemed he'd forgotten about life.

Donatello spent his days next to Casey, trying to repair things around the farm. They fixed an old truck, they unclogged the well, and they patched up the roof. They also chatted constantly.

"No way, atomic mouth," Donatello said.

"Barfaroni."

"Camel breath."

"Dome head."

"Elf lips."

"Fungoid."

"Gack face!"

"Hose brain!"

They could repair anything but the way they treated each other.

April, too, spent time alone. She found a diary she'd begun when she was a little girl and started writing again. In spite of the fact that Charles had fired her, she was a reporter. She wrote about what she saw going on around her with her friends - and Casey. She drew pictures of each of the Turtles. She liked what she drew.

The first ray of hope came when the Turtles had been at the farm for four days. Raphael woke up. He lifted his head a few inches.

"Hey," he whispered to Leo.

Leonardo leapt up, almost too excited to speak. "Raph! You're awake! How do you feel?"

"What's a guy got to do to get some food around here?"

Leo dashed to the doorway and yelled, "Hey! He's awake. Bring some food!" He returned to his brother. With ninja speed, food arrived. So did April and Donatello.

April watched the reunion. It was a chance for Leonardo to apologize for teasing Raphael. Apologies weren't easy for anybody, but with the Turtles, it seemed as though it wasn't necessary. It was important and it was touching, but there was something missing.

Later, April wrote in her diary: "The Turtles are four once again. And yet they're still not whole. But I think I understand. A lingering doubt remains - an unknown that they can't bear to face - their greatest fear."

Later, in the darkness of the country night, Michelangelo sat on the roof of April's barn, thinking.

He was glad that he and his brothers were alive. He was glad that they were safe. He was glad that April was with them. But something was missing. Something big.

Without even realizing it, Michelangelo stood up and reached for the sky with both hands. He cried loudly into the pitch-black night, "Splinter!"

Everyone at the farm heard him. Everyone felt the same desperation. Michelangelo had spoken it for them.

The following day, Leonardo left the bathroom for the first time. He went to a field to meditate as Splinter had taught them. He concentrated.

Hundreds of miles away, in a warehouse filled with hate and destruction, Splinter lifted his head and whispered a single word, "Leonardo."

At that instant, Leonardo knew. He ran back to the farm. He was almost out of breath when he arrived at the porch, where his brothers were drinking lemonade with April and Casey.

"He's alive!" Leo told them. "Splinter's alive!"

The others thought maybe the whole situation was just getting to be too much for Leo. Yet - could it be?