A/N: Another Evanescence song was used to write this chapter: My Immortal. Also, Special thanks to the wonderfully talented Vice President of Angst Chibi Rose Angel for the beta! (I hope I got that title right.)

Disclaimer: I lay absolutely no claim to the characters in this story. Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, Leonardo, Raphael and Bishop are most certainly not mine, no matter how cool that would be. I do not get paid for this and I mean no harm. Please don't sue.

Splinter

Splinter reached out and searched for his two wayward sons. He'd been able to find Michelangelo's presence since their disappearance, but it was weaker today than it had been in the past. Donatello's presence had been strong for a few days, but by the end of the first week, it became evanescent then faded completely. He hadn't felt it since that time. The only evidence he had that Donatello was still alive was through Michelangelo.

Three weeks they had been gone, and Splinter was sure they were being tortured by someone. He had his suspicions as to who had taken the two turtles, but did not speak them aloud. Three weeks ago Splinter's worst fear became reality. His only solace was in knowing that the people who he suspected of taking his sons weren't interested in the general populace knowing about them.

Michelangelo's presence slipped away from him, and Splinter sighed. Neither one of his lost sons could be reached right now, and the possibilities were terrifying. The old rat sighed again as he stood and made his way to the kitchen for a cup of tea. The lair had become a cold and empty place without Michelangelo and Donatello there. He cinched his robe more tightly around himself.

Splinter deftly side-stepped a skateboard that lay in the middle of the floor in the main room. No one had the heart to move it since doing so would be to admit that Michelangelo was not coming back. Raphael and Leonardo had each stepped on the board and fallen hard early on, but they had learned where it was now and could navigate around the obstruction, even in a pitch black only attainable underground. Both remaining turtles were obstinate in their insistence that the board remain exactly as it was.

Warming the teapot on the stove, Splinter fought against the sudden urge to slam the stove off and throw the pot against the wall. He couldn't remember a time when he wanted out of a room as badly as he wanted out of the kitchen right now. Everything in there reminded him of at least one of his two missing sons. Michelangelo had become quite the cook and could often be found in this room, and the appliances themselves held memories of each lost turtle.

One such memory was Michelangelo's early attempts at eggs over easy, which somehow turned into 'funky looking scrambled'. Later, he had become fond of sunny-side up, and Splinter had found that rather fitting. The stove he was using to heat the teapot, the microwave nestled in a cabinet from which the doors had been carefully removed, the refrigerator, even the hot water in the sink had been courtesy of Donatello, whom he hadn't had any sort of contact with in over two weeks now.

Splinter slammed his hands against the counter top. "They shouldn't be missing!"

Donatello and Michelangelo should be home going about their evening: joking with their brothers, playing those silly video games they all seemed to enjoy, reading, anything other than whatever was happening to them.

He remembered.

He remembered the little things, the little moments as they were growing up. Thunderstorms that echoed so loudly in the sewers that four little bodies inevitably joined him in his bed and steadfastly remained there long after the storm had dissipated. The first storm Raphael and Leonardo had remained in their own beds Michelangelo had been terrified that the storm would get his brothers. Eventually, he had gone off, with Donatello, in search of the two who hadn't shown. Splinter found all four of them curled around each other in Leonardo's bed the next morning.

He remembered when Michelangelo had been left out in the dark sewers scared half to death. He remembered finding Donatello inexplicably hanging by his carapace from a pipe seven feet off the floor. In each of those cases there wasn't much Splinter could do for them, other than calm them down and spend a little time with them one on one.

There were good times too.

An image of Raphael and Donatello talking excitedly about something one or the other had done to the Shell Cycle. Michelangelo's unsuccessful attempt at baking a cake that resulted in Leonardo exiting the kitchen ghost white, covered from head to toe in flour.

Whether they were actually, physically in the lair or not, Splinter couldn't escape their ghostly presence. He'd been with them through it all, and they, all four of them, would forever have his heart and soul, even if only two remained.

Michelangelo had always been so full of life, so energetic, and his eternal optimism was contagious. Splinter had felt that optimism fading over the past weeks, and that broke his heart. Donatello also had an unmistakable presence that once experienced was not soon forgotten. He was a silent support, a presence most noticeable when it was missing, like oil. Splinter remembered an incident long ago when Donatello had neglected to put oil in a motor he had turned on and the rather noisy results of that little mistake. Not much would make him happier than to find that oil, if only for a moment.

The teapot screamed and pulled Splinter from his reverie. No one else noticed the screaming kettle because no one else was home. Leonardo and Raphael had not taken the disappearance of their brothers well.

Each morning the two turtles would make an appearance in the lair. Leonardo coming home covered in dirt and grime from a tough night searching anywhere and everywhere. Raphael would return similarly coated, but with the addition of cuts and bruises he had earned 'burning off steam' at the seemingly hopeless search. They cleaned themselves up, got some sleep, and did so civilly.

But once they awoke later in the day, it didn't take long for the fighting to begin. Emotions were running high and that was how they worked off their tensions. Splinter just wished they had a slightly less destructive method of doing so.

Losing Michelangelo's presence tonight was difficult, more difficult than Splinter would willingly admit. If his presence disappeared as completely as Donatello's had then Splinter would have no choice but to consider his sons gone. That was something he just was not ready to do.

They weren't here, they hadn't been in three weeks, and yet they weren't gone either, not as long as Michelangelo could be reached.

Every time Splinter reached out to his orange masked son his heart lifted. Regrettably, he always had to cut the contact. Every day he had to let go of his son a little more. He knew that Donatello and Michelangelo would have to be found soon if they were to be found at all. Michelangelo's weakening presence was enough to tell him that.

Splinter knew that his searches for Michelangelo were a sign of something else too. When it came right down to it, Splinter was alone. He had been all along. Ever since Michelangelo and Donatello had gone missing, and Leonardo and Raphael went out searching. No one was home when all four should be there with him. Finding Michelangelo always seemed to bring them home in some sense, no matter how small.

Splinter finished his tea and returned to his position on his tatami mat to, once again, searched for his missing sons.

He managed to find Michelangelo this time and he smiled, knowing that all was not yet lost. There was still time for at least one of them. Reaching a little deeper Splinter felt something else.

It was just a soft glimmer, a shadow of what it once was, but it was there. The quick flash faded and disappeared again after a moment, and Splinter thought that maybe it had been his imagination. He was just about to give up his search when he felt it again, stronger this time. The flash lasted longer and burned a little brighter than its predecessor.

It was weak, but unmistakably Donatello.

Splinter watched as Donatello took a leap of faith, trusting his brother with his fragile grip on reality. Reaching out again, Splinter found his other missing son's mind. Splinter smiled, secure in the knowledge that, at least for now, Michelangelo was up to the task his brother had entrusted him with.

What Michelangelo could not possibly know was that he'd just bought his family some time.

Leonardo walked in several hours later and Splinter looked up at his grimy son. There was something in the young man's eyes that he had previously thought extinguished... hope.