Author Note: Y'know peeps, I must have started this chapter about five times. I knew what I wanted to happen and then realised the whole idea was totally off topic for the story and had no reason for existing, it didn't advance the plot in any way and was merely an excuse for me to try something I hadn't before. So I scrapped it and then I was lost. I knew what would happen in the next chapter but had no idea how to bridge the gap from here to there.

Who says smoking isn't a good thing? I was sat on the doorstep puffing furiously away and listening to a song I haven't had on in an age when suddenly I knew what had to happen and basically, it was the end of this chapter. To get to the end part, I had to fill in some unanswered questions from the last chapter. Therefore, this chapter was born. Let me know if it worked or not, because although I tend to have chapters planned out several days in advance and know in previous chapters where I want it to head, this is pretty off the wall.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The three turtles had to ensure that everything was perfect and the checks had to be done in absolute secrecy. If their brother even suspected they were up to something, the surprise would be ruined!

Leo picked up the nunchaku and swung them experimentally. "Seem to be fine."

"I still don't believe ya let April talk ya into that," added Raph, indicating to the orange ribbon tied around each grip.

"It's cheerful!" said Don defensively. "Beside, I've seen your planing. With those covering them, he might not get splinters."

"Speaking of..." Leo glanced toward the chamber where Splinter meditated. "Do you think we ought to include him in this? The chucks were his idea after all."

"No way," said Raph dismissively. "This is about Mikey and he hasn't been paying much attention to Splinter."

"No, he hasn't," said Don, a sudden realisation hitting him. Why hadn't he seen it earlier?

"Earth to Don!" Raph waved a hand in front of his face. "Are we doing this or what?"

"Let's go," said Don, putting his insights to the back of his mind for the time being.

"Hey Raph, since it was your idea to get a weapon..." Leo replaced the nunchucks in the box they had found and handed it to Raphael.

Raph shrugged, feeling absurdly pleased but trying to hide it. "Let's go already."

As they approached Michelangelo's room, they could hear the sounds that had been plaguing all of them for the last few days.

Blip... blip... blip... blip... BLEEP!... blip... blip...BLEEP!...

"Curse you forces of evil!"

"Remind me to kill you for finding him that Raph," muttered Leo out of the corner of his mouth before raising his voice. "Hey Mikey!"

"What? I'm trying to save the world here – no! Fire! Fire fire fire!"

"Got you something!"

There was a sigh from within and a moment later the electronic bleeps ceased and Mikey appeared at the chamber entrance.

"What?"

Don elbowed Raph and Raph glared at him for a second before handing the box over.

"Um, we made them..." said Raph uncertainly as Mikey opened the box.

"Nunchucks."

"Uh yeah..."

"We thought you might like a new weapon," added Don as he realised Mikey was looking less than thrilled.

"And we thought nunchucks might suit you," continued Leo.

Mikey gave the nunchaku an experimental twirl. "You made these for me?"

"Sure we did," said Don, beginning to talk too much when he couldn't read his brothers expression. "Since you're mostly healed up now and you needed a weapon and you can start training again now and ..."

It was Raph's turn to elbow Don. "Jeez, stop babbling already!"

Mikey eyed the nunchucks for a long moment then looked up and gave the three a huge grin. "These are great! Thanks!"

Don gave silent thanks. For a moment he had thought that Mikey hated the nunchaku or was offended they hadn't supplied him with his old weapon of chigiriki.

"You know you'll have to put in extra hours in the dojo," said Leo, a hint of a smile on his face. "Those things are really difficult, none of us could get the hang..."

He stopped as Mikey, after a couple of false starts, managed to get them whirling around at high speed.

"You were saying?"

"Show off," muttered Raph.

"I'm just gifted," said Mikey, attempting to raise them above his head and whacking himself in the shoulder. "Ouch!"

Don laughed. "Definately more practise needed bro."

"Then I'd better go practise," said Mikey, hurrying past his brothers to go to the dojo area before pausing and looking beseechingly at Don. "Unless I have to recouperate any more." He made it sound like a dirty word.

"I think you've recouperated enough."

"Woo-hoo!" Mikey raced away and Leo and Raph sniggered at his exhuberance. Don however was lost in thought. Physically Mikey was fine but he wanted to see just how the mental scars were healing.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

For a whole week, Mikey refused to stop training save for meals and sleep. He didn't even seem interested in going topside, although he had sponken of it longingly prior to getting his nunchucks. When asked, he claimed he wanted to get used to the new weapons and it was understandable – the chucks were difficult and for the first few days Mike gave himself several good smacks on the head as he tried to master the weapon. But he got better and better at it. At the same time he resumed his martial arts and although rusty at first, he was soon back on form.

Don however was concerned. Mikey had never pushed himself like this as a Foot ninja and back then he had wanted to please their Sensei. There was something else involved in this rigorous training. And although Leo and Raph had noticed, they had once again begun bickering about trivialities and spent too much time fuming, trying to get over their respective bad moods. They had often been that way in the Foot headquarters, but then they spent less time together, had places to go to let off steam. Now they had only each other and going topside alone had been deemed disallowed since the disasterous trip to the junkyard. All too often Raph stormed off to explore the sewer tunnels and Leo would grumble that one day he would go too far and decide to go up.

Privately, Don was getting tired of all of them.

After Mikey, he had always been the one most likely to try to keep the peace between them. But since Mikey had given up on that in order to concentrate solely on ninjitsu and solemnity, the job had fallen on Don. And he had no idea how to divert his brothers from an argument. He could alwys think of the perfect comment to diffuse the situation – about an hour after the row had ended.

So for a while he had withdrawn, as he tended to do when things got on top of him, concentrating instead on the electronics he had rescued from the junkyard. First up were the remnants of mobile phones. The contant upgrades and the importance of having the latest models were making even relatively recent models seem dated and Don had been amazed at the sheer number he had found, still intact and working. A little inginuity and a lot of patience had allowed him to strip the original casings and create a phone to his own specifications.

As soon as the first 'shell-cell' was finished, he called April.

"Second Time Around."

"Hey April!"

"Donnie! Are you at a payphone in the day?"

"Nope. I've just made the first phone. I call it the shell-cell!"

April laughed. "Do you plan to name everything you build after a turtle trait?"

"I just might. So, how are things?"

"Same as ever. You?"

"Ug. I think Raph and Leo are going to kill each other before long and Mikey's training with the kind of intensity he usually reserves for pizza!"

"You can't expect to adjust to things overnight."

"True, but it's been awhile now and I still can't get used to being cooped up with everyone. Anyway, I didn't call to moan about my problems, I just wanted to make sure the shell-cell was working."

"I'd call this a successful feild test – oh, wait a moment." The phone was lowered by the sound but Don could still hear her shout. "Casey Jones! Be careful with that..."

Crash!

"Grrrrrrr..." April's voice came through more clearly. "Don, I have to go. Call me later, give me the number, OK?"

"Sure," said Don, terminating the call and frowning thoughtfully.

Casey?

Behind the corner of the lair he used as a workspace, he became aware of activity and turned to watch what was happening. Mikey had finally emerged from the dojo and for a moment Don thought he might have decided to have a break.

"Hey Leo! Wanna spar?"

Leo had been sat on the couch watching the news carefully but at Mikey's request stood up. "Sure, why not? I hope you've got the hang of those things, I don't need a concussion right now."

"The point of weapons practise is to..." Mikey trailed off and Don remembered what Saki had always told them, what Mikey was about to repeat. The purpose of a weapon is to incapacitate your opponent in any way you can. Therefore, the point of weapons practise is to learn how to put your opponent down and out or to learn to move out of the way.

For a moment Mikey gazed into the distance and then his eyes refocused. "I need to learn to use them against an opponent."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm nothing more than a practise dummy?" Still, Leo drew his swords and walked over to Mike.

"A dummy for sure," said Mike.

Don grinned at the exchange, realising how few Mikey-isms he had heard lately.

"He is very dedicated."

"GAH!" Don whirled around to find Splinter stood behind him. "Do you have to sneak up on me like that?"

"As ninja, you should be aware of your surroundings at all times, learn when there is someone in your vicinity."

"Usually I am. Only Sen – only Saki could ever creep up on me without me knowing. And you."

Splinter inclined his head slightly and let his eyes go back to the wall that blocked Mikey and Leo from their view. "Ever since you have deemed Michelangelo fit to resume training, he has done little else."

"I know."

"There is an old Japenese saying; 'obsession is dedication out of control'. To wish to improve is admirable but to exclude everything else is not good."

Don shrugged. In truth, he was still uncomfortable around the old rat. "Why shouldn't he want to improve his fighting skills? We can't hide away from the Foot forever. Best to be prepared."

"Michelangelo is preparing physically. But half the battle is won in the mind. None of you are ready to face the Foot, no matter how much you train."

"What are you trying to say?"

"You of all your brothers have suffered the least from the seperation from the Foot Clan. You should aid your brothers in their adjustment."

"I haven't sufferered?" Don gave Splinter an incredulous look. "I lost my home, my lab, all the things I've been working on, I have to scavange through garbage to find electronics just to make this place livable while I listen to bickering and complaining and I can't even get away from it all because there are about a thousand enemy ninjas waiting on the streets to take off our heads!"

"I did not say you had not lost," said Splinter, maddeningly calm. "But it seems that you have the least emotional investment in the Foot Clan. Leonardo believes he was mislead and feels foolish. Raphael is angry that he had been betrayed and as he sees it, bettered in combat. And Michelangelo feels he has something to prove."

"I trusted - "

"UGH!"

Mikey flew into sight, skidding on his shell across the floor. Tightening his grip on the nunchaku, he jumped back to his feet.

"Oh, you are going down sword boy!" The words were joking enough, but there was a look in his eye that told Don he was deadly serious. Mikey raced back into the fray and although he was out of view, the sounds suggested a serious battle going on.

Don sighed. "I suppose I should do something about what's going on. I just don't see why it always has to be me."

"It will not always be this way." Splinter rested a paw on Don's shoulder. "Soon enough, they will realise how their behaviour is affecting the rest of their family. They just need some guidance."

"Sure," said Donnie gloomily. He paused for a moment and then gave in. He had wanted to question Splinter about a few things ever since he first spoke to the rat, before he even knew he was a rat. "Splinter, can I ask you some things about our origins?"

"I was wondering who would be the first to bring up the subject," replied Splinter, a slightly amused look on his face.

"Saki always told us he found us in a lab the Foot were raiding. He said he has enemies that he and his Sensei and his Sensei's Sensei had fought before him and they had been experimenting with the creation of super soldiers. We were all that were saved from the lab. But you say it was all some kind of – accident?"

Splinter nodded. "I witnessed the whole thing. The boy who dropped his turtles during the commotion that ensued when the blind man was nearly run over. The cannister that followed you into the sewer. I remember it as if it was yesterday." He allowed himself a small smile. "You were all so cute."

"But if I believe what you say..." Don frowned and rubbed his forehead. "I always thought we were special."

"Do not confuse what you were with what you are," said Splinter sternly. "It is not how you came to be that makes you who you are."

"I guess," said Donnie, not sounding convinced. "I wish I could get my hands on some of that mutagen, run a diagnostic on it. If I had my lab equipment of course."

"You will regain those things in time."

"Perhaps." Don turned back to the desk he was using, one leg supported by a pile of mildewing books. "I just hope I can find a salvagable mother board soon. I hate doing all these calculations on paper. And I miss not being able to look up what I need on the internet."

"Hiiiii – YA!"

Don turned to the sound of Mikey's voice and frowned. What Splinter had said made some sense but he resented that he seemed to be the only one who had the burden of piecing together the fractured family.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Mikey was infuriating when he didn't want to talk. Don sometimes thought it would take a radical plan, probably involving superglue, to shut him up and although that was mostly true he was also very good at keeping his secrets. Which meant that skirting around an issue rarely worked. With Mikey, it was the direct approach or nothing and even then he would try to avoid a straight answer.

So while Leo and Raph explored the sewer tunnels and Splinter meditated, Don decided he would just come right out and ask the question, especially since Mikey was finally taking some time off from his nuchaku tecniques.

"Mikey?"

"Hmmm?"

Blip... blip...blip...

"I need to ask you some questions about – y'know, what happened in Foot Headquarters."

Blip... BEEP!

"Dammit!"

"It's important."

"Can't it wait? I'm so close to beating my high score I can taste it!"

"Not really."

Mikey gave a long suffering sigh and restarted the game. "Fine. Ask away."

"What happened after the Shredder found you trying to free Splinter?"

"We fought. He won. You know that."

Blip... blip... blip...

"I mean, between then and when we came to get you."

"Not much. Stuck in a room where the lights never went out."

"You were sleep deprived?"

"You try catching some Z's when it's that bright."

"No noise?"

"Just the radio in the background I think. Too quiet to make out what it was saying. Drove me mad."

"Wait. There was a radio on? Music or talk?"

"Couldn't really hear it. Talk I think."

"Eat anything?"

"You're joking. There was Kool-aid."

Don frowned. Sleep deprivation was a classic brainwashing tecnique used by cults the world over. And the background sounds may have been another way to interrupt his thought process.

Fasting, suger overloads, no sleep, isolated, uncomfortable... oh no.

"Do you regret leaving the Foot?"

BLEEP!

"Dammit!"

"Mikey? Do you?"

"That's a weird question Don. Don't tell me – you're pining for your computer! Me too. I know one day I'll crack your secret codes and then I can read your journal!"

"I never kept a journal."

"So what was in your top secret files? Hmmm?" Mikey raised an eye ridge and Don felt himself getting defensive.

"Just research! Even if you could work out the codes, which I doubt, you wouldn't understand any of it."

"Research. Right." The disbelief in Mikey's voice was evident.

"It was!"

"I believe you Donnie," said Mikey unconvincingly. "Anyway, I'm going to put in some more time with the chucks."

"Wait!" Don realised he had let Mikey distract him. "You didn't answer me. Do you regret leaving the Foot?"

Mikey shrugged. "Don't you? Living down here in the sewers away from the rest of the world and scavenging for junk? You can't tell me this is how you imagined your future."

"I don't regret it for a second," said Don quietly. "We were being used by the Foot, by Saki. It might have been easier to stay but no matter how hard things get, we're free of them. We'll get back on our feet Mikey. It's just going to take some time."

Please tell me I don't have to deprogramme my own brother thought Donnie as Mikey glanced around the lair doubtfully, obviously doubting it was possible to get used to living in a sewer.

"Listen, why don't we go topside for a while?" Don knew that Leo had told them not to go out alone with the Foot running about looking for them but if there were two of them, what harm could it do? Beside, Mikey hadn't been above ground since they left April's apartment, first recouperating and then obsessed with training.

"I dunno, Leo said we should stay out of sight."

"Since when did you start listening to Leo? Anyway, no one's going to see us if we stick to the shadows. Ninja, remember?"

"I guess."

The nearest manhole led them out into the warehouse district and it was easy enough to hurry up a fire escape and take to the rooftops. Mikey paused for a moment when they reached the first roof, enjoying the night air.

Don stayed quiet for a few moments before speaking. "Follow the leader?"

"Who died and made you leader?"

"Just try to keep up."

"You couldn't outrun the Mikester on your best day!"

"Wanna bet?" Don took off running, leaping from one rooftop to another with ease, Mikey behind him and having no problems keeping pace, much to Don's relief. He had been mildly worried that the enforced rest period and the lack of Foot workout facilities would have affected his brothers stamina, but it didn't seem to be an issue.

It was some time later when Don leapt nimbly onto a rooftop some distance from the lair and paused briefly to catch his breath. Mikey had fallen behind slightly, still in sight three or four rooftops over, gaping at a poster for a movie. No doubt for some thinly plotted action flick.

Don looked out across the neighbourhood and froze, fortunately cloaked by the shadows.

He could see another shadow on a distant rooftop, a figure sneaking stealthily, almost invisible in the darkness. Someone who obviously knew how to hide, how to use the art of invisibility. A ninja.

A Foot ninja?

For a few seconds Don could only watch as the figure ducked out of sight, seemingly heading away from them...

Shit, Mikey!

Paralysis breaking, he turned and hurried back to where his brother was still examining the movie billboard. Don was aware that he had to stick to the shadows but Mikey was making no more than a desultory effort to do so, not knowing who was around.

"Come on Mike. Let's go home."

"Awww, Donnie..."

"Leo and Raph will be worrying."

"So?"

Still, Mikey reluctantly followed Donnie to street level, watching as he lifted a manhole cover.

"Don? Why are we taking the sewers?"

"It's faster. We've been topside long enough."

There were a few seconds of quiet as the pair jumped into the sewers and Mikey replaced the lid. But when they set off, he noticed the discrepancy.

"Aren't we going in the wrong direction?"

"Short cut," lied Don.

By the time they actually got back to the lair, after Don had ensured they weren't being followed and avoiding Mikey's confused questions, he had almost persuaded himself he couldn't possibly have seen a ninja. Certainly not a Foot ninja. One guy on a roftop did not add up to an army. The incident with the Purple Dragons had just left him jumpy and now he was imagining enemies everywhere. Perhaps the guy he saw lived in the building or had some kind of business up there. Maybe he was just a burglar or something. And if he mentioned it to Leo, Fearless Leader would immediately think the worst. Better to keep what he may or may not have seen to himself.

It was a decision he would come to regret.

&&&&&&&

Baxter Stockkman rarely had business in this neighbourhood, but the tiresome duty of sorting out his finances really couldn't wait much longer. Most of his banking was done electronically, but there were some things that required his signature and that meant heading to the bank.

Moodily, he stared out of the cab window, already hating the crowds, the noise, the traffic. He just wanted to get back to his lab. The mousers seemed to have some sort of glitch that hadn't been apparent when he had done the test runs, causing them to overheat. It was a new development and he would have suspected sabotage if that stupid turtle had still been working for him. But Donatello was long gone, along with his brother, denying Baxter any chance of genetic experimentation. If only he hadn't been so cautious! He might have at least had a DNA sample then but no, he chose to wait and now he had nothing.

A shop on a corner caught his eye. There was a suit of armour of all things in the window and two children were pressed against the glass, staring at it in wonder. Stockman snorted contemptuously. As a child, he hadn't wasted time with such frivolities.

Mildly curious and more than a little bored with waiting in traffic, he glanced at the sign above the door.

SECOND TIME AROUND

Proprietor: April O'Neil.

Stockman stared at it, wondering if it was time to change his glasses. He hadn't thought about his errant lab assistant for an age. But it couldn't be his April that was the owner, she was dead...

But no one ever asked you about her when she vanished.

That much was true. Some one should have noticed her absence by now – unless she wasn't missing at all. But he had gone over to the address on her file and it looked as if no one had been there in an age.

And isn't that just a little peculiar?

It was more than a little peculiar. It had been less than a week after his mousers chased her into the sewer, why would the house seem so unlived in? But the files would have had to be altered from inside Stocktronics and April certainly hadn't been back.

Donatello.

Stockman narrowed his eyes. It made sense. The troublesome turtle wasn't supposed to be in the building the night April was disposed of but what if he had been? It would explain why several of the mousers had not returned and everyone knew now that he had betrayed the Foot.

Slowly, a nasty grin came over Stockman's face. Shredder had offered a lot of money to anyone with information about the turtles whereabouts. If April really was alive and Donatello had indeed aided her escape, then she may be able to lead the Foot right to the turtles. And even if she had no idea where they were – it would teach her to snoop around where she wasn't wanted and try to fool him into thinking she was dead.

Either way, Baxter Stockman won.

&&&&&&&&&

At roughly the same time, a private plane was taking a route from Japan to America, specifically New York City. The plane was opulant, comfortable, luxurious, but the person for whom it had been arranged was taking no notice whatsoever, glued to her laptop.

A map of the city was on the screen. A mouse click zoomed in on one area, where one would believe there was little of interest save for a junkyard and some warehouses. The surrounding neighbourhood was largely industrial, not a place most would seek out after a long plane journey.

Oruku Karai was not most people.

Her fathers attempts at finding the treacherous mutants had come to naught. Given time, he may have found out something else. But time was not on their side and he was impatient for revenge. Which was where Karai came in. She had no doubt that Leonardo was still throwing his weight around where his brothers were concerned and the one person who knew him better than anyone else in the world was her. Leonardo would have found a place for them to lay low and she was the one with the best chance of finding where that was.

And once she did – the turtles were going to pay.