Rocky felt himself panicking. He was on the metal slab again, and any second now, the mutation would begin. No!

He jolted awake with a violent start, then looked around with wild eyes. I'm not there, he thought. I'm...I'm in the warehouse. No, wait, one of them turtles took me to their home last night. Or was that a dream? Rocky stared down at his feet, and two bandage butterflies stared back at him. He smiled - no, it was no dream. He sat up a bit and began readjusting himself. The bed wasn't the most comfortable - just a large crate filled with rags, with a few sleeping bags on top, and a blanket on top of that, with an extra folded-up sleeping bag for a pillow - but it sure beat anything else he'd slept in since his mutation. As he lay back down, he faintly heard a clacking sound. He concentrated on it for a bit, and finally figured out what it was - it was those turtles' weapons smacking together. Hm, thought Rocky, they must practice together all the time. No wonder they kicked our butts. Rocky closed his eyes, and as he snuggled down, he contemplated his next move. He remembered greedily the money that the rat kept in his kimono, and contemplated taking that and leaving. But it didn't look like it was all that much, and what would he do when that was gone? Probably be better to stick around for a bit. After all, he had food and a bed here. In time, he'd come up with something better. Rocky eventually nodded back off.

Michelangelo cautiously approached the sleeping mutant. "Rocky?" He put a hand on his shoulder and jostled him slightly. "Rocky?"

With a loud snort (Michelangelo leapt back a bit), Rocky's eyes flew open. "Wha'? Whazzat?"

"Hey. We know we told you you could sleep as long as you wanted, but we thought you might not want to miss lunch."

"Lunch?" Rocky sat up, and opening his mouth wide, gave a tremendous yawn. "Yeah. Yeah, lunch."

"Cool. I brought your clothes if you want to change. See ya in a bit." Michelangelo headed back down the hall, whistling.

Rocky looked down at the foot of his bed. His clothes were clean and folded. He picked up his pants, then looked down at the sweatshirt he was wearing. Ah, I'll just wear these, he thought. Putting his pants back down, he pushed the blanket off, then swung his legs down over the edge of the bed. Slowly, he got to his feet, then headed down the hallway. After a few wrong turns, he found the kitchen. Splinter and three of the turtles were sitting along a makeshift counter, all with plates in front of them.

"Hey, he's up," said Donatello.

"Yeah? So?"

"So...good news?" said Donatello hesitantly. "Because now we can all eat?"

"Correct," said Splinter. "Rocky, if you'd take a seat?" They had moved a large barrel to the end of the counter, and Rocky took his place there.

Michelangelo walked up next to him. "Not exactly my finest creation," he said. "But we're a bit low on food, so I had to work with what was left." He set a plate down in front of him, and Rocky examined it eagerly. Two sandwiches (the turtles each only got one) with some macaroni and cheese on the side. Rocky peeked inside the sandwich - cream cheese, cucumbers, lettuce, tomato. No meat? Ah well. Food's food. He picked one up and took a large bite. The turtles, seeing this, followed suit. Rocky absently listened to the turtles talking through the meal - it was mostly martial arts talk, which left him completely out of it. But that was probably just as well - Rocky wasn't exactly feeling chatty.

After everyone had finished, Leonardo collected the plates. As he did so, Splinter turned to the rest of his charges. "Now, my sons, you remember where you are in your studies?"

Raphael said, "Yeah, still stuck in algebra-land."

"I've got a bit more to do in history," Michelangelo said. "But I can go on ahead if I've gotta."

"Excellent," said Splinter. "Please make a note of anything you do not understand. If you will begin your studies on your own, I will join you later." The turtles filed into the study, then Splinter turned back to Rocky. "Now, Rocksteady, it is time to determine what your next move should be."

Rocky drained his water glass, then swallowed. "Easy," he growled. "Find the Foot doctor."

"Find...find a foot doctor?" repeated Splinter, uncertainly. "Your feet should heal of their own accord within a few days..."

Rocky slammed his open palm against the counter, causing the things on top to jump. "No, ya stupid rat! Not a foot doctor - th' doctor what was with th' Foot!"

Splinter was rather disheartened. Rocksteady had appeared to be acting almost polite towards them, but this outburst over a rather understandable mistake seemed to indicate that there was quite a bit of hostility underneath. However, Splinter simply said, "Oh, the doctor that was with the Foot. What was his name?"

"Dunno."

"Oh. What does he look like?"

"Tallish - well, he seemed tallish before. Grey hair, glasses."

Splinter thought, that describes nearly half the doctors in America, but out loud, he said, "And why do you wish to find him?"

"He c'n change me back."

"He can?" Splinter felt his hopes leap up. A doctor that can undo mutations? Perhaps he would not be fated to remain a rat for the rest of his life. But his rational side knew that this wasn't a likely possibility. "Are...are you certain of this?"

Rocky nodded. "Mm-hm. Th' Shredder said so."

"Hm. When did he say this?"

"Soon after I was freakified. I told 'im I didn't like it none, and he said after I killed you 'n' dem turtles, he'd switch me back."

Splinter found it disconcerting to have his murder discussed in such a blase fashion, but he continued to play it cool. "Well, could it be possible that he was not being truthful?"

"Whadja mean?"

"Did the Shredder strike you as someone as being particularly truthful? Could he have been lying? In order to motivate you to...kill us?"

Rocky considered briefly. Could the Shredder have lied to him? Immediately, he shook his head. "No way," he said, wanting to believe it.

Splinter wasn't fooled. He is telling me what he wishes were true. He knows as I do that the Shredder dealt in lies quite often. But was it possible? Could the Foot have had a doctor who could reverse mutations? Splinter got up and walked to the door. "Donatello?"

Donatello had just opened his books, but hadn't truly begun studying. "What's up?"

"Would you rejoin us here, please?" Splinter walked back to his seat as Donatello came to the doorway. "Rocksteady has stated that there was a doctor with the Foot who could reverse mutations."

"Really?" Donatello frowned. "That doesn't sound right."

Rocky snorted. "What do you know 'bout it?"

"Not much," admitted Donatello. "I've read a couple books, a few articles...but everything I read seemed to indicate it's a one-way proposition. You can go one way, but not the other."

"This doctor could do it."

"Well...it's just that...mutations are the combination of two DNA strands. A mutation...here, look." Donatello walked to the fridge, opened it, and took out a carton of milk and a bottle of orange juice. Placing them on the counter, he then picked up two glasses from the sink. He poured a small quantity of milk into one, and a similar amount of juice into the other. "OK, say the milk is standard human DNA, and the orange juice is the rhinoceros DNA they mutated you with." Rocky nodded, so Donatello went on. "So, to mutate you, they basically did this." He poured the juice into the milk, and swirled it around a bit.

Rocky said, "Yeah, so?"

"So?" Donatello put the glasses in front of Rocky. "Undo it."

"Huh?"

"Put the orange juice back in the other glass."

Rocky stared at the glasses, then shrugged. "I dunno. How?"

"That's just it. I don't know, either. Well, I suppose I could get the juice out of there using some sort of chemical means, but it's gonna be a much more complicated process than mixing them together was. It's the same thing with mutations. It's simple - well, simpler, anyway - to mutate. You just get two strands of DNA, and a really strong mutagen, and the two strands sort of re-form into a new one. To undo a mutation, you'd have to look at the mutated strand, and extract the alien DNA - the rhino DNA, in your case - bit by bit. I guess it's theoretically possible, but you're talking about something just this side of impossible."

"I see," said Splinter. He was a bit crestfallen, but it more or less confirmed what he believed was the case. "Excellent explanation, Donatello. You may return to your studies now."

"Better clean up my experiment first," said Donatello with a small grin. He emptied the glasses into the sink, then put the two containers away before heading back into the other room.

Splinter turned back to Rocky. "Perhaps the doctor can undo mutations. Hotever, you do not have much information with which to find him. Perhaps you should consider that a long term search, and we can decide what you should do in the interim." Seeing Rocky shrug, Splinter hazarded, "Well, what would you like to do?"

"Dunno. Find anudder gang to join, I guess."

Frowning slightly, Splinter said, "Have you not learned that lesson yet?"

Rocky frowned back. "Whadja mean?"

"Rocksteady, it was your gang involvement that led to your mutation, to all your recent problems, and eventually to your suicidal tendencies of last night. Why is this something you would wish to continue pursuing?"

Waving his hand at Splinter, Rocky said, "Look, you ain't my ma or nuttin', so don't bother wit' da speechin'."

"I'm afraid you do not have a choice, really."

Rocky stopped short and blinked. "Huh?"

"We have offered you food, shelter, and protection. I do not ask much in return, but I do insist you listen to what I have to tell you."

Rocky smirked. "Listen, rat boy, you can't make me do nuttin'. If I wanted ta, I could snap ya in half, take yer money, and just head out, y'know."

Although Splinter was expecting something of the sort to occur, he was surprised how quickly this was coming to a head. "Is that what you wish?"

"What?"

"Is that what you wish?" Splinter repeated.

Rocky considered. "I guess not. You were nice 'n' all, givin' me food an' stuff. Ya didn't hafta. So I wouldn't go beatin' on ya. But skip the preachin' - I ain't in the mood." Rocky stood up, and Splinter quickly got up and stood in his path. Rocky laughed as Splinter adopted a fighting stance. "You're kiddin', right?"

"No, Rocksteady, I am not. As I stated, you will listen to what I have to say to you."

"Well, then, perhaps I'm gonna hafta snap ya in half anyways, then." Rocky leaned down to grab Splinter, and within three seconds was on the floor, panting.

Rocky saw Splinter's tail flicking near his face as he heard him say, in the same calm voice, "Now, will you attend to me?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Rocky. "Jus' lemme..." Rocky tried to lurch over and grab Splinter's legs, but Splinter deftly leapt over him and applied a kick to an exposed pressure point. Rocky moaned in pain. Splinter knelt down, grabbed his walking stick and pressed it against another point in Rocky's neck. Rocky's eyes bulged, and Splinter saw the fear there.

"You may as well submit, Rocksteady. I will earn your respect - one way or the other." Splinter applied a bit more pressure, and Rocky gurgled. "Do I have your respect, Rocksteady?"

"Uh..."

Again, Splinter leaned down slightly, and the fear in Rocky's eyes became panic. "Do I have your respect, Rocksteady?"

"Yeah! Yeah! Ya got it!"

Splinter released his hold and stood up. Looking over, he saw Leonardo in the doorway, with the others behind. He waved them away, and they resumed their seats at the desk. Turning back to Rocky, who remained in a fetal position on the ground, Splinter said, "You could not defeat my sons before. You should not have believed that you could defeat their teacher." Rocky didn't answer, so Splinter went on. "As I have stated, Rocksteady, I do not ask much from you. You will simply listen when I talk to you. Is that understood?" Rocky nodded, but his eyes were closed, and Splinter saw a few tears rolling from them. Splinter knelt down and placed his hand on Rocky's shoulder. "All is forgiven, Rocksteady. Come, let us get you up." He pulled on his shoulder gently, and helped Rocky back onto his seat.

Leaning into the study, Splinter said, "Can you do well without me for a while?"

The turtles looked among each other, then nodded. "Yeah, I guess so," said Raphael for the group.

"Excellent." Splinter came back into the kitchen and sat down facing Rocky. "And so now your training begins."

"What trainin'?" said Rocky, rubbing his sore neck with one hand, and wiping his face with the other.

Splinter thought for a second, then said, "I suppose you could call it life training. I must teach you much of what I taught my sons, but it would appear I must first help you unlearn what you have taught yourself. We may as well begin with what were we discussing before. You apparently still do not see why being a Foot soldier was wrong. Therefore, we will start there."

Numbly, Rocky stared at Splinter, resigned to his fate. This wasn't turning out quite the way he thought it would.

As the days went on, Rocky's life fell into a pattern. Mornings he was sort of left to himself, and there wasn't a lot to do down in the turtle's lair. They didn't own a TV or any video games. They had a couple of radios, but the reception wasn't that great - and the turtles seemed to think that they should be tuned to the oldies station, not exactly Rocky's cup of tea. He usually spent the mornings reading. The evening after Rocky's arrival had been Donatello's traditional weekly trip to the library, and Donatello had decided to pick up some books for Rocky, in addition to ones for everyone else. Not having any idea what kind of books Rocky might like, he ended up getting him a large and varied selection. Rocky thumbed through most of them before settling on one - a mideval fantasy concerning the elven empire fighting off encroaching dragons. It seemed an odd choice - it was the last thing Donatello had grabbed - but Rocky seemed satisfied with it. At least, while the turtles practiced their martial arts, he sat in the living room alone with it.

Come lunch time, Rocky would quietly eat his lunch (twice as big as the turtles', but still only about half as much as what he wanted). The turtles occasionally tried to get him involved in their lunch conversation, but most of their questions were answered with monosyllables or shrugs. It was obvious he was dreading what was coming next, because after lunch, Rocky would slink into Splinter's room and sit glumly in silence as Splinter continued his "life training". To Rocky, it seemed like a continual harangue at everything he had done since he had turned fourteen. Splinter attempted to get him to discuss his past openly and honestly, to really think about what he had done, but he could tell that most of the time, Rocky was simply enduring this than really examining his life.

It was the sixth day when things finally began to change. Splinter had asked him to think of all the people he had caused pain to over the years.

"Well, th' targets."

"The targets?" Splinter echoed.

"Yeah, y'know. Whoever Jutaro'd send us after."

"Oh. Well, certainly, you caused them much physical pain. Is there no one you caused emotional pain to as well?" Rocky shrugged, so Splinter persisted. "Can you think of anyone? Anyone who was close to you? Whom you may have...hurt emotionally?"

Rocky looked down and shrugged. "Ma."

Splinter wasn't sure he heard that correctly. "Your..."

Looking back up, Rocky said, "Ma. My mom. Yeah, she was pretty sore when I took up with th' DKs."

"Undoubtedly. Is there anyone else you may have hurt? Let down?"

"Let down?" repeated Rocky, half-snorting. How could he let anyone down when he hardly had anyone counting on him to start with? He hardly had much interaction with anyone since his mutation. Him and Bebop were...

Suddenly, Rocky pulled short. Bebop.

For many months, it had been them against the world. And wasn't it Bebop who did almost all the work? It was him that scavanged Foot HQ. It was him that took the booty to the pawnshop and forced the guy to give them money for it. It was him that bought the food. And, perhaps most importantly, it was him that kept Rocky going, kept his spirits up, kept him sane. Once Bebop was gone, Rocky's entire life fell apart.

And what had he ever done for Bebop? Bitched and complained, mainly.

"What is it, Rocksteady?" asked Splinter quietly, sensing he was close to something.

"It's...nuttin'. Bebop."

"Bebop," repeated Splinter. "He is the other mutant...and your friend, correct?"

"Yeah. We's pretty good pals since...well, since we joined up wit' da Foot. He kinda...well, a couple times I thought I was gonna lose it, an' he always made everythin' OK, y'know?"

"Assuredly. That is what good friends do. But you feel you may have hurt him in some way?"

"I dunno. Prolly. I guess...I never really...was all dat nice to him or nuttin', ya know? He always was doin' stuff f'r us - gettin' food an' all. An' I never did that much for him."

"So you feel you let him down?"

"I guess. I mean, after all he did f'r me...an' now he's in jail 'n' all, y'know?" Rocky hung his head down.

"Is there nothing you can do for him now?"

Rocky looked back up and threw his hands up. "What can I do f'r 'im now? He's in jail!"

"Yes. But perhaps he needs you now more than ever before."

Rocky thought that over. What if it was him, instead of Bebop? He wasn't crazy about his living arrangement right now, but it probably beat whatever jail is like. At least he could kind of do what he wanted, sometimes, and he had others to talk to, even if it was other mutants.

"Whadda ya think I should do?"

"Perhaps you should find out. Go see him and see if he needs anything."

"Go see 'im? In jail?"

"Yes."

Rocky looked shocked. "They'll toss me in, too!"

"Is there an outstanding warrant for your arrest?"

Rocky thought. "Don't think so."

"Then they won't arrest you. Unless you give them cause to arrest you, so we will make certain that they don't."

"How?"

"We will deal with that in a bit. First things first. Do you know where Bebop is being held?" Rocky shook his head, and Splinter smiled slightly. "Then it would appear I need to call in a favor. If you'll excuse me a moment?"

Splinter slowly got to his feet and headed out of the room. Rocky sighed and thought. Would it be so bad to visit Bebop? As much as the thought of jail scared him, he did like the idea of seeing Bebop again. And maybe the rat guy was right - maybe he could do something for him.

Rocky looked back up as Splinter came back in. "So?"

"We'll have your answer shortly, I believe."

"How so?"

"I have placed a call with April O'Neil. She will determine where he's being held, and when you can go see him."

"April...oh, yeah, that reporter lady."

"Exactly. She has yet to fail me, and so let us assume that you will get to see him. Therefore, we must work on making sure you are not put in prison with him."

For the next several hours, Splinter placed Rocky in many different potential situations. If he had to take the bus or subway to the prison, how not to aggrievate anyone there. How to act when people stared at him. What to say if someone from his past confronted him. How to appear as non-threatening as possible to the people at the prison. Rocky's initial reactions rarely pleased Splinter - Rocky seemed determined to be as belligerent as possible at times, whereas Splinter pleaded for him to take a more obsequeous tack.

After hearing another such suggestion by Splinter, Rocky snorted and rolled his eyes. "It's like ya want me to be a wimp all da time."

Splinter smiled a bit. "Perhaps a demonstration is in order. Observe. Hold up your index fingers, pointing at each other." Rocky complied. "Now push them against each other." Rocky stuck his tongue out and brought his fingers together. "Push harder." Rocky's fingers bent slightly, and they began wobbling. "Harder." Grunting slightly, Rocky pushed as hard as he could, and his fingers bent more. "Enough." Rocky brought the fingers back to their original position.

Splinter spread his hands. "So what has happened?"

"Uh...nothing?"

"Exactly. You wasted a fair amount of effort, and nothing was gained." Splinter put his hand on Rocky's left hand, pulling the left finger slightly below the other. "Now, push." Rocky's fingers moved by each other. "You see?"

"Um, not really."

"When you move one finger out of the way, when you stop resisting, they move along very easily."

"Yeah. So?"

"Life is much like this. You can resist at every turn if you so desire," Splinter began, putting his fingers together and pushing. "But this will often lead to wasted effort, and with no gain. You can be confrontational with the bus driver, the passers-by, the prison guards. But what will this gain you?" Splinter moved one finger down, and the fingers glided by. "If you do not resist when there is no reason to resist, both they and you can go about your business, with no wasted effort." Rocky stared at his fingers for a few seconds. "Do you understand, Rocksteady?"

"I dunno. I guess. It's just - it still sounds like you're makin' me be a wimp."

Splinter smiled again. "Would you consider me a wimp?"

Rocky considered. "Nah. Well, not since we mixed it up in da kitchen."

"Excuse me." Rocky turned and, seeing saw Leonardo behind him, moved out of the way slightly. "Thanks. Dinner's almost ready, sensei."

"Thank you, my son. We will join you shortly." We waited until Leonardo had left, then turned back to Rocky. "You see? It is not so difficult."

"Huh?"

"When Leonardo came behind you, you moved aside so that he could speak with me."

"Uh-huh."

"Most of the time, this is all that is necessary. To allow others to function around you."

"Hm."

"Consider it well, Rocksteady. For now, we will have dinner." He stood up and indicated Rocky to lead him out of his room.