Author's Note: For those of you wondering, this story WILL finish when Don either wakes up... Or dies trying. I know you guys like to be warned of character death and all, but I find it ruins the story. I'm not saying he won't wake up, I'm not saying he will. You'll just have to stay tuned, like his brothers. THIS chapter is longer, making up for the previous and following shorter chapters. This chapter is also MIKEY at last. I have many people to thank for helping me think Mikey's character out. First of all, Jo Dawn for her very helpful looks into Mikey's mind (I review the appropriate stories thanking you further there, I'm sure you know). I urge anyone who's a Mike fan to read her stuff. VERY well done. Also, Lisa15 for her orriginal long review giving me Mikey thoughts. And again, Raphangela, for "SILENCE." Also, plenty other reviewers made helpful Mikey coments (I can't liste you all, sorry!). There were a few other stories I read that I don't remember now (ARK!) When I do, I'll mention it next chapter. Oh, one was "A Brother's Bond" by SuperKat (though I have yet to review-- I'll get to it.)

Hope some questions were answered. Sorry, I can't help you with Don. But if I told you, it wouldn't be fair, what with Raph, Leo, Mikey, Splinter and April not knowing and all... You'll have to find out with them.

Cheers, and keep the reviews coming!

Chapter Four: Still Soul-Searching

I left Leo's room late that night, feeling somehow like an old toy that had been repaired. I wasn't shiny new, but I wasn't broken anymore. Knowing Leo was suffering as I was, I knew I could handle my pain as good as he could. After all, anything Leo can do, everyone knows I can do better.

"You'll see. Donatello will make it out of this. And soon, he'll play us all the fools."

Leo's words did strike me as somewhat odd, to say the least, by I dismissed them, thinking that it's merely Leo, who always seems to talk in riddles when he gets in that frame of mind. Sometimes, merely gibberish, and others, they made sense later on in the game.

Strangely, I found myself hoping this was one of those things that I'd understand later. For some reason, thinking of Leo as a blabbering idiot in this instant gave me an eerie sensation of disquiet.

But the best after-effect of this whole experience was that I no longer had the urge to run for the water. And I hoped I never did again. That was such a lonely and desolate feeling... I never wanted to feel that way again.

I entered the living room to find lights and sounds bouncing off the walls. The TV was still on. April was curled up on one end of the couch, her head on the armrest. Michelangelo lay, sprawled and snoring, on the other end of the couch, his foot somehow lodged in the crook of April's knees. His other foot was on the floor, while his arms were outstretched, one draped over the back of the couch, and the other drooping over the front. I would have laughed at the sight, had I not wanted to wake the two of them. Despite his sleeping habits, Mikey was a light sleeper. It was this fact that made his loud snoring rather ironic. You'd think he'd wake himself up with that.

But April didn't seem to mind in the least. I snatched a blanket off of the nearest armchair and gently draped it over her sleeping form. She was smiling contentedly in her sleep and snatched at the blanket as she felt it laid on her. Obviously, she was dreaming good dreams.

Probably of having her apartment to herself again, I thought with a weak smile.

I found it great that the events of the day hadn't caused Mikey and April nightmares. I knew it would have that effect on Leo, Splinter and I, and dreaded the thought of sleep. Leo would be sluggish tomorrow, and grumpy, which meant I should stay out of his way a while. Splinter would probably be taking some mid morning, afternoon, and evening naps. More than usual. I wondered if he could use mediation as an excuse.

And me? I planned to sleep the day away tomorrow. I didn't want to face it. It would be worse than the nightmares. So that gave me reason not to sleep now, when the house was at rest and I could observe its inhabitants in peace.

Gingerly, I lifted the remote from Mikey's limp fingers and turned off the TV, which was now going on about some infomercial for car wax.

He stirred instantly.

"Mmmm...." Mikey said as he stretched, his eyes squeezed shut. He looked up at me, bleary eyed and peaceful.

"Hi..." he said with a serene smile. I tried to return it, but my lips betrayed me.

"You wanna surrender the couch to April before she realizes you've invaded?" I asked, motioning at the sleeping form at the end.

"Nyah nyah..." he sighed with a yawn. I looked at him skeptically.

"And in English that means?"

"In English," he said, looking at me pointedly. "It means I'm dreaming. So go away."

He threw one arm over the armrest and rested his head on it, closing his eyes again. He turned over and tried laying the other way. After a few more changes of position, he finally gave up and sat up on the couch with a pout.

"Raph, April's takin' up too much space, tell her to move!" he whined like a child. I had to smile. I looked at April's tiny form at the end of the couch, curled like a cat and probably taking up about as much space as one, then back to Mikey, who had kicked off the pillows and armrest coverings that now littered the floor. It looked as though a child's fort had been destroyed.

"Yeah, Mikey, sure thing," I said with a mocking chuckle. He was too fatigued to catch it.

"Dude, what time is it?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Early."

"How early?"

"Like, two." I really didn't know. I'd stayed in Leo's room for so long.

Another yawn. "How's Donnie?"

"Dunno," I replied. "I haven't checked on him in a while."

"You should," said Mikey, looking at me with that look a mother gives when she's trying to get her kid to walk the dog.

"I will," I told him, reassuringly.

"No, now," Mikey said, strangely adamant. I frowned.

"He'll still be there later," I said. Mikey pouted again.

"I don't think he's OK, man," he said at last.

"No shit," I replied.

"No," Mikey said, shaking his head. "I mean, I don't think he... I just wish I knew how much he took, so I could know, but... the way he was acting, and all that retching and groaning and puking and... God, Raph, I'm really scared."

"Hey man," I said, forcing a smile and patting him on the shoulder. "Don will be fine. Physically anyway."

Mikey frowned. "See, that's what worries me most. I mean, I'm scared he won't wake up. But... But I'm also scared that if he does, he'll just carry on like he's been doing, with those pills or whatever. I mean, you seemed to get him back there, Raph, and I can't begin to imagine why, but if you got him and Leo thought he got him, and I thought I could make him laugh, then why did he do it, eh? I mean, we can only help to some degree. It's like you said, some battles are meant to be fought alone, I guess. But the point is... what Don doesn't seem to see is... that we can still help. I get the fact that we can't help him win. He has to do that on his own, but... we can be here for him to fall back on. You know? A safety net, to catch him, encourage him, and make him try again. Until he actually does win."

I was quiet. This was an odd statement, coming from Mikey, but it was still full of his naivete. What if Don couldn't win? I voiced my opinion.

"Oh, he'll win," said Mikey with a grin and a vigorous nod. "At least, with us behind him he will." The smile disappeared from Mike's face and somehow without it, the temperature in the room seemed to drop below zero. "But he won't let us in the arena. Access Denied. It's like when Bret Hart wouldn't let his brother, Owen, the 123 Kid, watch his match with the Undertaker--"

Great, wrestling metaphors from the nineties.

"–The Undertaker kicked the crap out of him in the ring. The Kid was watching on the TV but couldn't do a damn thing about it. I have the whole thing on tape. That was the night Bret lost his title as King of the Ring and his belt. One of his lasts fights before he left the WWF."

"Didn't the 123 Kid get killed?" I asked. But Mikey shrugged it off and waved at me as if the statement were little more than an annoying fly.

"That's not the point," he said. "I mean... We're like the 123 Kid. And Don is like Bret Hart. And the Undertaker is this thing that keeps eating at him. And we're watchin' it all on TV, but unable to do a damn thing about it because we can't get in the arena. Don gave into him tonight, he submitted. But he hasn't lost his belt yet. He's still got it. But when his next match comes, man, his only way to win is to let us into the arena. To be there to coach him. Ya know?"

Throwing aside the wrestling metaphors, I did understand what Mikey was saying. I rubbed his head, lovingly and he slapped my hand.

"Dude, cut it out!" he whined, but it didn't seem to bother him much. Nothing ever did.

"How'd you get this way, Mikey?" I asked at last, my curiosity getting the better of me. "How come that through it all, all of those things, no matter what the hell happens to you, you're still so optimistic, open, loud and annoying?"

"Well, Raphael," said Mikey, putting on the sarcastic air and false English accent of a college professor. "It's all very elementary, really! You see, despite all the 'things,' as you so casually put it–" and he pretended to sneer at me condescendingly, "– that happen to me, I will always be loud and annoying because, my dear boy, they are the fundamental characteristics of my genetic makeup, old chap!" He grinned at me and, in spite of myself, I grinned back.

"God, Mikey, you wacko!" I said with a laugh, punching him lightly in the arm.

"And you, my good sir, are an ignoramus!" he replied, still in fake-English-professor mode. I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

"And you still don't know when to drop a joke while it's still funny," I said.

"Hey," said Mikey in an excited whisper as he leaned forward. I laughed a bit and looked interested. "Do you ever wonder if maybe the WWF staged the Kid's death and really he's alive living under an assumed identity of Alfred Zinger in Saskatchewan at this very moment?" he asked, his eyes agleam.

I closed my eyes with a weary smile and took in a deep breath.

"Oh Mikey," I said, exhaling. "You never cease to amaze."

I walked him to his bedroom so he could let April have the couch.

"You gonna go to sleep soon?" Mikey asked, looking at me expectantly as I tried to shut the door on him. I shrugged.

"I might," I replied. Mikey gave me a disappointed frown.

"Dude, sleep," he said. "You probably need it more than the rest of us."

"Sleep's just not my thing right now," I said. "I'm too awake."

Mikey looked at me suspiciously. "Does it have anything to do with you running out on us tonight?"

"What?" I said, caught off guard by the question.

"When Leo went after you. Oh man, did he look intense," Mikey said, shaking his head in awe. "The second you threw down your armbands, he snatched them up curiously as you ran out the door. He looked at them, and the next thing I knew, I saw..."

Mike trailed off, and I don't know why. He sort of stared past me off into space for a while. There was something in his eyes... the way the dim light in the hall hit it in just a certain way, or maybe it was no more than an illusion... They seemed to shine with fear and worry, confusion and doubt. And guilt.

"Mike, what's wrong?" I asked, feeling strangely unnerved by this trick of the light. Mikey blinked and those horrible things were gone from his eyes as they focused on me once more and he gave me a wan smile.

"Oh, uh, nothing," he said, his smile broadening. "I was just thinking about Leo. When he looked at your armbands, and all, that look he had, the one I saw. It was... not Leo. It's like a door to a haunted house inside of him had been opened and all the ghosts were flying out. The next I knew, he was scowling and nearly ripped your bands to shreds as he ran after you..."

I remembered my armbands laying on Leo's bed, turned inside out. I remembered the blood. He must have seen it and suspected... He knew what I was going to do. That was the only explanation.

I looked back at Mike and nearly had a heart attack as I he turned his head and his eyes had that horrible look to it. The sorrow in them... It was simply wrong. Nothing like that grotesque look should ever be seen in Michelangelo's eyes. Mikey. Of all people, he was way too innocent for those things. And way too good.

He looked up and his eyes were warm again, and friendly. It seemed the misery was only visible if the light was hitting it just right.

"You know, if Leo yelled at you for running out without telling us where you were going, you shouldn't pay much heed to it," said Mikey. "I do it all the time."

I frowned at him, confused. "When?" I asked. Mikey was grinning wildly at me.

"A lot of times," he said. "Normally late at night like this, when all the rest of you are sleeping. It's invigorating, isn't it? Knowing you're out up in the cold air, in the peculiar silence of a city that never sleeps... No one knows who you are, up there. No one cares. They're all too busy with their own problems to worry about yours. No one knows where you are. It's absolute freedom; you can do whatever the heck you want and no one would know or care. It's the only place where I really feel like... myself."

Mikey gave me a warm, nostalgic smile, probably remembering his midnight escapades. He sighed. "So believe me, Raph, I know how you feel when you need to be alone, get some air. Sometimes, we all need to regroup our thoughts a little. We all need to remember why we do the things we do, and why we continue doing them. We all need to be reminded that this life really does have its perks, as well as its drags. And we need to be reminded when going through some bumps in the road that when the good stuff comes... it's so worth it. It's so worth it. Blue skies and clear sailing will come of stormy seas, Raph, you just gotta wait for the storm to pass. Even the darkest night will end, and when it does, you'll witness a sunrise so incredible, you'll remember why you endured the night in the first place. I guess... I guess that's the real answer to your question, isn't it? When you asked why I am the way I am. Something bad happens. I worry, I fret, I panic. What good does that do me? I take a walk outside and breathe in the city air, full of smog and tantalizing smells from late-night pizzerias, and I smile and know that tomorrow will be a brighter day. It has to be. Or else, what's the point of it all?"

I looked at Mikey dumbfounded, never expecting such wisdom to come out of the mouth of the youngest turtle. Funny how he was the one we all sheltered and tried to protect the most, and yet he was probably the only one of us who didn't need it at all...

"And also," he added as an afterthought. "I smile for you."

This guy never ceased to shock me.

"For me?"

Mikey shrugged. "Hey, not you specifically, you narcissist. I mean, like... all of you. You guys always seem so... Well, lets just say your seas seem to be a little more stormy than mine." He grinned at me. "Sometimes, Raph, I wonder if you like it that way."

I grumbled, not wanting to admit it. But it was probably true.

"And," Mikey added, as an after-afterthought. "I smile because I have no idea what's going on."

I chuckled and patted him on the arm.

"G'night, bro," I said, loving him more at that moment than I ever had in the past.

"Night," he said with a nod, and he started to close the door to his room. He stopped and his eyes widened as he stuck his head out once more. "Oh, and Raph? Don't tell anyone about my little excursions, OK? The whole point of it is that they're supposed to be secret, you know? No one's supposed to know where I am. That's part of the freedom of it all."

I smiled at him and nodded, pressing a finger to my lips. Grinning, the door finally closed.

The light in the hall seemed to disappear completely now that Mike had closed the door to his room and I wondered if it had ever been there at all. Similarly, I wondered if those horrible monstrosities of emotion had ever existed in Mikey's eyes and soul, and silently hoped that I had been mistaken. But who's to say? He could sort it out. He was more capable of handling these things than the rest of us. That freedom he spoke of when he takes a walk topside... I know what he meant. And it really has an effect on you. I always wondered how he always seemed so bright in the dark of night.

I walked down the hall to Leo's room. His door was slightly ajar, and I remembered I hadn't closed it all the way when I'd left. I pushed it open a little and it creaked on its hinges. The light was still on; it seemed he hadn't bothered to turn it off. His eyes were closed, but his lids were fluttering, and an unhappy frown had taken over his features. His katanas, as usual, were right by his bed side, in case of a midnight emergency in which he'd need to grab them right away. He was sleeping over the quilt of a made bed and I wondered why he hadn't pulled back the sheets and settled in. But I didn't dwell on the thought.

He moaned and turned over and I tilted my head, wondering what he was dreaming. Something about Don, no doubt. He grumbled again and his arm swatted at an invisible enemy.

"No..." was the only intelligible word I could decipher from his ramblings.

Sighing, I turned out the light and closed the door.

When I stepped out of Leo's room, I found myself across from Don's and hesitated. Was Splinter still awake? If he was, did I risk more hurtful words by entering and sitting by him with my brother?

Holding my breath and afraid of what I might see, I opened the door...

Splinter was slumped in his chair in a restless sleep. His face kept twitching and he was shivering. I looked around Don's room and found a spare blanket in his closet. Doing as I had done with April, I draped the blanket over my Sensei's sleeping form. But unlike April, he did not grasp it greedily. It seemed that when his body sensed it, he rejected it with force and it fell to the ground. Almost as if he didn't want to be soothed...

I shook my head sadly, wondering how we would all get through this, and how we would all be changed.

I, for one, had already been changed. I felt as if a sea, that had been raging inside me for my whole life, had somehow been calmed. It might have been Leo, and learning and understanding how his mind worked. It might have been Mikey and his optimism, telling me that it was OK to run away every now and then, as long as we return. It might have been April and her perceptive reporter skills, asking me what I was afraid of. It might have been Splinter, and learning that he wasn't always the stoic, solid rock of the family, as I had always perceived him to be. Or, it might have been Donatello himself, and being reminded once again that life is full of secrets and responsibilities, hiding just beneath the surface.

And I still had a responsibility to him.

I walked over to my angst-ridden brother, emotionless in his unconsciousness. I lay a gentle hand on his forehead, as if searching for a fever I would never find.

If it had been me laying in that bed, all this would have been different.

Don, in my place, would have known what to do right away. Being the doctor of the family, he would have magically come up with some cure, even if it had taken him a while. Somehow, he would have come up with a way to wave his magic wand and make everything right again. With his sensitive perceptions, he would have noticed I was slipping, and maybe caught me before it was too late. Psychic and mysterious, he was a troubled sorcerer, a puzzle that longed to be solved.

Splinter wouldn't have blamed Don for my plight, like he blamed me for Don's. He would have thought that this was just another one of Raph's crazy, dangerous phases, another fad I had to try. Just like the time I came home drunk off my ass. Splinter nursed me through my hangover, and did not waste his breath in scolding me. Somehow, he knew it was just another crazy, one time experiment, and that I'd never do it again.

I never did.

But this, this wasn't me. I wasn't the one lying half-dead in my bed. I wasn't the one who decided to change everything by swallowing some stupid poisons. I'd warned Don that this would happen. I warned him that if he tried this, it would ruin all the rest of us. He'd listened then. Had he really forgotten so quickly?

A bitter fury rose inside of me and I almost wanted to scream out in frustration. Had he forgotten about me??? Was I so inconsequential in his great scheme of things that it didn't matter if I was totally destroyed by his actions?

And most of all, had he forgotten that he could always, always tell me when he was even thinking about doing something stupid like this? Had he forgotten those fragile, powerful words I had uttered to him and him alone while sitting in his room that day? Something strange had possessed me then, and forced me to admit that I really did love him. Aloud. I rarely, if ever, told any of my brothers that. At the time, Don seemed to appreciate the strength it had taken me to say that. And though I tried to blame it on some strange demon, I knew that the real spirit that had possessed me was the strong and unbreakable... love... that I really did feel for him.

I cried right then. No one was watching, so no one would know. I hadn't cried in years, not since I was a kid. Unless you count when I was trying to kill myself. But the utter despair that gripped me in that moment forced the sorrow out of my eyes. I should have told him every day. I should have, and yet I never did. I should tell them all, every damn day. I should, and yet I never will.

And I hated myself. In that moment, all my love was exhausted. I was loving Leo, for his strength and courageous sacrifices I could never make. I was loving Mikey, for the wise optimism I could never possess. I was loving Splinter, for his solid steadfastness that I could never handle. I was loving April, for the dreams she would always keep that I could never know.

And I was hating myself for the egotism that they could never rid me of.

I fumbled for Don's clammy hand and clutched it desperately, the tears still spilling.

"Don, Don, Don..." I said, over and over. "Don, Don, Don... You gotta wake up. You have to save me. You have to be my anchor. You gotta do so many things, Don. Don... You just gotta wake up. If you don't, I don't know what'll become of me. You already have me crying my eyes out here! When's the last time you remember seeing that?" I gave a curt, morose laugh.

"Come on Don, see what you're doing to me? If I told you this was killing me, would you stop? Please, Don. You don't need pills, not at all, don't you see? You got all you need, right here in this lair. All sleeping, like you. All ready to wake up, for you. All aching to be there when you awaken from this crazy stupor. All achin' to be there for you. I learned a lot today, Don, and it's really gotten to me. You don't know how much I hate it. I... I'm different, somehow. Mikey was right. I liked it when I was full of inner turmoil. I liked being full of myself. Because now, I'm empty, and full of you at the same time. With my own conflicts somehow magically resolved by things Leo and Mikey and April and Splinter all said, there's too much time to think and worry about you. I don't wanna worry about you, Don. So wake up, so I can go back to worrying about myself. Worst of all, man, I know I shoulda told you... I... I love yeh, Donnie... So come on, wake up so I can at least tell yeh that for one last time..."

Don did not heed my requests.

I sighed, painfully, as though I'd expected him to just sit up in bed and say, "I love you too, Raph."

"It is unfair that fate will not comply with our needs, despite how we beg."

I jumped at the hoarse voice and looked up to see Splinter awake, and looking at me with that inscrutable expression I prayed for the wisdom to understand.

"Master Splinter," I said, strangely out of breath. "I didn't realize you were awake..."

He nodded with a knowing smile. "Raphael... I am sorry for any undue stress I may have placed on your shoulders. I was--"

"I know," I interrupted, not wanting to hear an apology. "Really, Sensei, it's me who should be apologizing. You're right. I should have told you Don was taking pills. But I guess it was sort of a confidence thing, you know? And I thought he was done with them, I really did."

Splinter nodded. "I understand, my son," he whispered. "This is no more your fault than it is mine. Perhaps it is less so."

He sighed, mournfully and I felt a peculiar need to reassure him.

"It's not your fault at all, Master Splinter," I said pointedly. He looked up at me, as if startled by my words.

"Perhaps you are right," he says, looking back to Donatello.

We're silent a moment, both wishing that we could blame this whole things on ourselves and leave our innocent Donatello guilt-free. But we couldn't save him from that. However, we could pretend that we could.

As if reading my thoughts, he said, "Sometimes denial can save us from the unbearable truth."

I nodded, absently. Neither of us dare tear our eyes away from our sleeping loved one.

I didn't know what to say to Splinter. I had nothing to say. I thought of our discussion six months ago, how much I needed his permission to step into Donnie's life. I knew that, like I did, he had known something was horribly wrong. But he hadn't realized the extent of it. Like Leo, I guess. But even I could never have predicted Don's unexpected actions that have led us all to doubt ourselves...