Raphael roared up Highway 87, weaving in and out of traffic. Normally, his breakneck careening through traffic at brought enough of an adrenaline rush to cheer him up, but there was no joy today. He felt as if someone had reached into his heart and crushed every hope and dream he ever had.

Pele loved Leonardo.

If Pele loved Leo, then she couldn't love Raph. Raph would never know the joy of being with her, of caring for her as a lover and a husband, and would never be a father. Raph knew, deep down, that he should at least try to be happy for his brother, but he couldn't summon the strength. If he couldn't even be happy for himself, how was he supposed to be happy for Leo? Raphael turned off of the highway towards the lights of the city without paying much attention to what he was doing. Now his only hope lay with the fact that Pele's temper was just as volatile as his and maybe she'd get sick of Leo. But Leo was the patient one. Leo didn't fly off the handle and say things he'd instantly regret. Leo would be the dependable one; the one she could count on. Leo would be there for her. Raphael rarely knew his own limitations, but he knew he wasn't dependable.

Slowing down as he entered the city proper, Raphael sighed out loud. He was a freakish mutant having to hide his very existence from humanity. The only comfort he had come across recently was the possibility of wooing a mate to make his life an iota less solitary and pointless. But now that was gone as well. Fortune pissed in his Wheaties once again. As he drove deeper in the city, Raph got a niggling feeling that something wasn't quite right. The streets were emptier than they should have been, even at the ungodly hour he was. Something was bothering him about the streets themselves, but the thick fog rolling in cloaked anything truly sinister. Raphael had almost forgotten his broken heart when he saw the little girl.

She couldn't have been more than seven or eight years old. She was standing on the street corner peering up at a building across the intersection. Her hair was braided into tight cornrows and a doll dangled from her right hand. She looked completely innocent and helpless. She sure as hell shouldn't have been standing on a street corner at one o'clock in the morning. Raph swung his bike around sharply, lying on the brakes hard enough to make the back tire squeal.

"What the shell are you doing out here by yourself?!" Raph demanded, dismounting and going over to the girl. She showed no signs of realizing he was there and continued to stare up at the building. "Hey, I'm talking to you! Are you okay, honey?!" Raphael grabbed her shoulder and tried to swing her around to face him. He stopped and stared at the child, trying to make out some details through the dark and fog. After a minute or two he raised one hand and flicked the girl in the head as hard as he could. She went 'booo-oo-oong.' Raph gaped. The kid was a damn statue. Who the hell dropped a random statue of a kid on a street corner? A breeze parted some of the fog and Raphael finally got a good look at the city. Now it all made sense. Raphael wasn't in New York City. He was in Albany.

Some explanation may be needed at this point. After the great street art breakthrough of the Chicago cows, every large city in America decided it needed random sculptures of livestock on every sidewalk. Baltimore had fish, Norfolk had mermaids, Saratoga had horses, Cincinnati had pigs and even Toronto had plans for giant decorated statues of moose. Some cities had decided to move away from livestock. Los Angeles, the City of Angels, had plans for statues of angels on every street corner. St. Paul wanted statues of Snoopy. Albany, for whatever reason, had decided on statues of regular people going about their daily lives.

At first they had been a very popular attraction, a cute and kitchy quirk that Albany had been proud to call it's own. Then the novelty wore off and the city fathers began to realize they had sprinkled their metropolis with human decoys that served to scare the drunks and confuse the cops.

Raphael paused with his hand on the girl statue's shoulder to stare out across the cityscape. He had driven all the way to Albany without realizing it? Albany was a three hour drive from New York City. Leaving the statue, Raph got back on his bike. Three hours away from home; yeesh, Sensei was going to kill him when he got back.

Giving the statue of the little girl one last disbelieving look, Raphael pulled out into traffic. From the top of this hill, he could see the beltway highway curving around the city. Albany was so much smaller than NYC! Practically all of the city fit on this one hill, showing a beautiful view of the surrounding countryside. Well, maybe he could pay attention on the way back and actually see something new. Raph eyed the street sign on the corner. It pointed the way back to New York City quite clearly, but it also trumpeted the wonder and beauty of a town ten minutes up the road called Troy, the reported birthplace of Uncle Sam. Well, what was ten more minutes? He could just go up and look around and then head straight home. Yeah, that's what he'd do.

Troy was either a very large town or a very tiny city, but Raph loved it. The streets looked like something straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting. He never did find out about the Uncle Sam thing, but he spent another 45 minutes exploring the streets before finally turning back towards home with a heavy heart.

He had felt so much better exploring the world out here. He had forgotten all about Pele and Leo. Now he would have to go home and watch them sneaking kisses when they didn't think anyone was looking. Worse than the kissing was the way they looked at each other. They looked at each other with their eyes sparkling and their expressions warm and sunny, like they had the best secret in the world and it filled their hearts with happiness. They looked at each other like they loved each other. It made Raphael's stomach cramp up when he saw it. Why couldn't Pele have chosen to him? Why couldn't she look at him like that? Raph knew he could be a jerk sometimes, but if she had only picked him, he would have made sure she never wanted for anything. The world shimmered for a moment as Raphael felt his eyes begin to burn. Shit. He needed to stop for a minute. He was low on gas anyway.

Raphael pulled into a gas station and filled up. Then he grabbed a charred hot dog and small soda, not noticing his growling stomach until that moment. He pulled around to the back of the gas station, eating his meager meal next to an older gas station building that had been abandoned when the new one was built. Someone had taken the time to paint a map of the U.S. on the side of the old building. Raph stared at it as he chewed mechanically. He was still hours away from home, but on that map it made it looked like Albany and New York City were right next to each other. Why did he feel so much freer in Albany than he had at home? He could get away from the Lair back in NYC, not have to be around Leo and Pele, not have to see them together at all if he wanted to, but it always felt like they were hanging over his shoulder. Why did a three hour drive make him feel like almost like a different person? Was it because it was almost like he was making his own way in the world?

Raphael looked over his shoulder at the highway. He could read the illuminated sign from this distance. One way pointed to Peekskill and New York City. The other way just said: Pennsylvania and Points South. 'Points South'; like the Highway Commission was leaving it up to the traveler to decide where he wanted to go. Raph looked back at the painted map again. There was a lot of America south of New York.

There was one of those moments where it felt like the whole world was holding its breath in anticipation of a monumental decision being made. A truck pulled around to the side of the gas station, windows down and blaring country music.

'Baby, what do you say we just get lost?

Leave this one horse town like two rebels without a cause

I've got people in Boston, ain't your daddy still in Des Moines?

We can pack up tomorrow, tonight let's flip a coin.

Oh heads Carolina, tails California

Somewhere greener, somewhere warmer.

Up in the mountains, down by the ocean

Where it don't matter, as long as we're going

Somewhere together; I've got a quarter

Heads Carolina, Tails California!!'

Raphael had an epiphany. When people went somewhere to find themselves, they didn't actually think that the secret to their true self was simply in a different location. No, they just needed to get away from the non-stop everyday distractions that kept them from seeing through their own faults to the better person they could truly be. And nothing opened the horizons like a road trip. It wasn't like he was running away from the situation; he was just taking a walk around the country to soothe his troubled mind. He would come back home . . . . . . . . just not for a while.

'We can load what we own in the back of a U-haul van.

Couple modern day Moses, searching for the promised land.

We can go for a hundred miles before we stop for gas.

We can drive for a day, and then we'll take a look at the map.

Oh heads Carolina, tails California

Somewhere greener, somewhere warmer.

Up in the mountains, down by the ocean

Where it don't matter, as long as we're going

Somewhere together; I've got a quarter

Heads Carolina, Tails California!!'

Raph wiped his mouth calmly, then popped open the control panel on his bike and pried out the tracking device that Donnie didn't know he knew about. He placed it in the empty hot dog wrapper then did the same to the tracker in his shell cell. Digging around in his pockets for a moment, he located pen and wrote: 'I'm fine, stop trying to find me.' On the wrapper, then balled the whole thing up and threw it into the weeds near the old gas station building. He considered his choice of actions, then dialed up Michelangelo.

Back in NYC, Mikey and Makai canoodled on the couch. Raph was out somewhere, Leo and Pele were sparring and Donnie was . . . . doing whatever Donnie did. The TV was on, but the Mutant couple wasn't paying any attention to it. The lights were dimmed and then only sounds were the light smacking of lips, the whisper of rough reptilian skin against slightly less rough reptilian skin and the occasional giggle. The shrill beep of Mikey's phone drew a groan from both of them.

"Just let it ring," Makai pleaded.

"It's Raph; he might need me," Mikey said, answering the device. Makai gave an exasperated sigh, rolling her eyes. "What's up, dude?" He asked, ignoring the suddenly devious look his girlfriend gave him.

"Mikey. I'm just going out for a while to think about things. I may be some time." Raphael's voice was low and calm. Michelangelo suddenly knew, without a doubt, it was going to be a very long time before he saw his brother again.

"Raphael?" He asked, his own voice concerned. Raph had already hung up. Then Makai slipped her fingers into a very naughty place and Mikey forgot all about the family hothead.

Raph put his phone away. There was just one more thing that needed attending to. And he didn't have a quarter. The young turtle considered the painted map on the abandoned gas station wall for a moment, then turned away, drew out one of his sai and chucked the weapon over his shoulder. It stuck in the crumbling brickwork with a solid 'thunk'. Raphael turned around. The middle prong of his sai had pierced the faded peach painted on the state of Georgia. Well, it looked like he was headed to Georgia. He couldn't think of anything he wanted to see in Georgia, but as the Avis commercials said: 'Life was a journey, not a destination.' He mounted his bike and pulled back on the freeway, only instead of Highway 87, he turned off onto Highway 84, towards 'points south'. As he sped away from his home, Raphael felt as if a great weight had been lifted off of his chest. He hummed the last two lines of the song under his breath as he headed out into the great unknown.

'We're going to get out of here if we gotta ride a Greyhound bus,

Boy, we're bound to outrun the bad luck that's tailing us!'

Suddenly giddy with freedom, Raph popped the clutch, sending the powerful bike into a wheelie.

One thousand miles away, in an ancient house nearly overgrown with kudzu and Spanish moss, a young girl padded out onto the porch, staring through the cypress and oak trees as the sun began to rise. She looked young, either a teenager or just recently so, with pale skin, freckles, and blond, curly hair, but there was a hardness to her eyes that made her seem much older. She was thin; a little too thin for her frame, and the bags under her eyes suggested that sleep was only a happy memory.

"Maggie?" Her head snapped around so fast it looked as though she could get whiplash. An old man had come out onto the porch with an equally old dog. The dog nearly fell down the porch steps and quickly relieved himself. "What are you doing up so early?" the old man drawled. "You should get some sleep while you can."

"I don't sleep much these days, Pa," the girl, presumably Maggie said. "I don't feel safe." Pa fell silent. They watched the arthritic dog hobble around the yard for a moment, the air between them heavy with what hadn't been said.

"I can't stay much longer," Maggie said eventually. "They'll come for me."

"I know," Pa said sadly. "They ain't got no right, but they'll come."

"I guess that's what I get for being a Mutant," Maggie said stiffly.