Sorry for the delay, it's been hard finding time to myself. Who would have thought sleeping would be the thing to inhibit my writing.

In any case, here it is. I've already started the next chapter and hope to have it out by Halloween. Thank you, to those who are still following this little "one-shot", for your patience.


"Enough." Splinter whispered under his breath. He stood from his chair, hiding the shake of his arms at holding his weight, and looked to the door. "April, please keep an eye on things for me. I am going to look for Raphael."

"I can come with you."

"No." He spoke no more words, but the way he glanced from Don to Mikey told April everything she needed to know.

She nodded. "Ok. We'll keep an eye out from h—"

The front door was suddenly thrown open, cracking against the wall beside it. April nearly jumped out of her skin until she saw who was standing in the doorway.

"Raphael!" Splinter's voice was laced with worry. Even from where he stood he could see the slight tremble of his son's body shivering from the cold. He also noted the dirt and mud covering his son's hands and feet and crawling up to his forearms. There was also a heavy sheen of sweat trickling down his brow. Where on earth had he…

The very moment Splinter's mind fit the pieces together, Raphael looked towards him. The way his brow knit together in a scowl framing the complete hollowness of his eyes… it was chilling.

It was agonizing.

"Raphael…" Splinter started towards his son, grabbing up the blanket from his chair, when the red bandana broke his look and abruptly headed towards the stairs.

"Wait, Raph, you should—" April tried to stop him, but Splinter placed a gentle paw on her shoulder, holding her back.

"Leave him." He kept his voice steady, and his eyes on the stairs his son had just stormed up. He wanted nothing more than to run after his boy, hold him close, and tell him everything would be alright. To comfort in any and every way possible. But his eyes… the sheer emptiness in them. Splinter hadn't seen eyes like that since his wife had been taken from this world. When he'd felt helpless. Alone.

Guilty.

And Splinter knew his son better than to try and impose comfort on him when he was in such a state. Forcing himself to stand tall—and remain still, despite every fatherly instinct to the contrary—he gave April's shoulder a light squeeze for reassurance before returning to his chair to watch over his other two sons.

April stared after Raph a moment longer. "But shouldn't we—"

"In time." They could comfort him in time. But right now, such efforts could result in pushing him further away. "For now, allow him solitude."

April sighed, conceding. Perhaps she'd sneak him some hot tea or something later, if he didn't come down before sunrise. She looked to Don, who had hardly flinched at the activity, entirely enwrapped in his tinkering. Then to Mikey, who had kept his shell to the door as soon as Raph had entered, and now stared at the fire, almost glaring at it.

Her heart suddenly felt heavier. This wasn't right. None of this was right…

Mikey suddenly stood, wrapping his blanket tight around his shoulders and heading for the door. He said nothing, only stopped to glance at the stairs before leaving the cabin and abruptly slamming the door closed behind him.


"GET DOWN!"

The words barely left Raph's mouth before he was hurling his body into his baby brother's side, throwing him out of the way of a grenade that burst several feet in front of them. The two shakily attempted to stand, but as Mikey was still getting his bearings, a purple dragon stalked toward him, gun in hand, and smirk on his face. Raph forced himself up between the two, his sai raised and death in his eyes. He lunged before the gunman could raise his weapon, spearing him through the hand and tackling him into the nearest wall.

Mikey gawked as Raph barely bat an eyelash at the vicious assault, dusting himself off as he headed back, offering the younger a hand. "You OK?"

"Yeah." Mikey gave his head a good shake to chase away the dizziness. "I think so." Though he must have hit his head harder than he thought, because Raph sounded like he was actually scared.

"Let's get out of—"

A sharp cry bellowed from Raph's throat, his hand snapping to cover the source of the pain now scorching through his shoulder. Mikey's eyes widened in pure terror as he realized his brother had been shot. "Raph!"

But his brother was already in front of him, throwing him away from the barrage of bullets that followed. By the time Mikey righted himself enough to sit up, he saw Raph stab his sai through the new gunman's arm, twisting until he dropped the weapon. Thank God. But the man drew a club from behind his back, and before either turtle could react, he clocked it as hard as he could across Raph's head. The older ninja reeled, backing into the wall. He tried keeping himself upright, but dizziness was clearly winning the battle, bringing him slowly down to a knee.

Mikey was frozen. Couldn't remember how to move. Think.

He saw the man pick up his gun with his good hand. Watched as he strode towards his brother with a murderous smirk.

"L-Leo!" Mikey could feel himself shaking. "Don, you have to do something! Leo's not breathing! You have to—"

Oh god…

"LEO!"

Adrenaline finally spurred Mikey on, pulling him from the memory into action. But he was too slow. The man was already levelling his gun at Raph's head. At this rate he'd be too late to— "RAPH!"

A loud crack rang out and Mikey's heart felt like it stopped, but his feet didn't. He kept going until he was by his brother's side, skidding to a halt just before he hit the wall. His eyes, frantic and terrified, finally understood what they were witnessing.

Donatello stood in front of their brother, towering over the body of the fallen purple dragon he'd just attacked. The crack had been his bō against bone. Not a gunshot. Raph wasn't—

"Raph!" Mikey fell beside his brother, immediately catching sight of the blood running through his fingers and down his arm.

Not again. Please… Please, not again!

"Can you stand?" Donnie was quickly in front of them both, offering his hand.

Mikey could barely keep himself from full on panic. "Don, he's bleeding!"

"He's bleeding and he's not breathing! You have to—"

"—Go."

Mikey shook his head as Don hoisted him to his feet.

"Mikey, it's OK. Raph's gonna be fine. But we have to go now."

The youngest turtle's mind was frozen, leaving his body to work by instinct. He cradled his shoulder under Raph's good arm to help keep the older turtle steady, and stood ready to leave.

"Follow me."

Mikey knew it was Donnie speaking. His brain registered the purple mask and the glasses and the higher vocal tone, but his eyes saw what they were used to. What they needed in that moment. And his words followed. "Right behind you, Leo."


The snow had stopped, but the air still felt cold. It didn't look like the weather was going to turn as predicted. Perhaps it would warm up over night, but somehow April doubted that. The ground was definitely still frozen. If Splinter was right—and he usually was—Raph must have been out there for hours digging…

Her hands curled around her arms, tightening their fold as she stood silently by the fire. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't help but stare at those around her. Don still sat with his drone, fitting pieces together and closed off to everything in the world around him, Splinter was in his chair, looking older and more burdened than she'd ever seen him, and Mikey had presumably gone back and sit in the barn. She'd have to remember to bring him something to keep warm. The last thing they needed was everyone catching a cold.

"You'd make a great mom, April."

"What?" She turned to stare at the blue bandana in surprise. "Where did that come from?"

The turtle shrugged as he helped her put away the supplies into the cupboards. "Mother's Day was on Sunday. It made me think of you."

"You're just saying that because I'm the only female in your immediate family circle." She countered coyly.

"True. We don't have a mom."

April's face sunk immediately. "I didn't mean... That's not what I…"

"But you're more than just any female. You make sure Don eats when he's obsessing over an experiment, you're patient with Mikey when he's been cooped up too long with too much caffeine, and you even manage to talk Raph down from a temper tantrum every now and again. You make sure we're warm in the winter, cool in the summer, you're always here with medicine when we get sick, and you're always willing to listen when we feel down. And if you can handle all the insane drama the four of us throw at you, I'm sure human kids would be much less of a challenge."

April had abandoned the can of soup she'd been putting away, turning to stare at her friend with wide eyes. "I… I still don't see the connection." She did. But the adulation had surprised her, so she had to deflect.

"Mikey was talking about what it would have been like to have a mom, and we all concluded that if we had one, we'd hope she'd have been like you."

April was speechless. The compliment made her heart flutter more than she would have expected. So again, she tried to avoid the subject. "Are you calling me a den mother? Because I am certainly no Wendy to your lost boys."

She saw her friend smile slightly. "Of course not. I just meant that it's your nurturing spirit, not your femininity, that makes us think you'd be a good mom. Besides, according to Raph, I'm the only den mother around here."

April couldn't help but giggle. She stared at her friend a long minute, really letting his words settle. Now that things were getting serious with Casey, the thought of children had certainly crossed her mind, but she'd always ignored the idea out of sheer practicality; what in her life of vigilantes and computer science made her the ideal candidate to be a mother? She wouldn't have the first clue how to parent a child. But then, she'd never considered how much her turtle family had prepared her for such a task. They did have a way of bringing out parts of her she never knew existed.

Perhaps… Perhaps it wasn't such a ridiculous notion after all.

She smiled.

The moment swept her away, and she found herself wrapping her arms around the turtle's shell, hugging him from behind. "Thanks, Leo. That means a lot."

"What are den mothers for?"

Nausea rumbled in April's stomach as an ache settled on her heart like an anvil. She turned away to face the fire and stare at the flames dancing. She needed a distraction. Needed something to take her mind off it before her heart exploded in her chest. Where was—

"Hey,"

April's head snapped to the front door where Casey now stood, timidly peering at Donnie before turning his gaze to her. Try as she did, she couldn't hide the anguish in her features. He was by her side in an instant.

"Babe."

Thick arms braced around her shoulders, pulling her into a hug that she needed but couldn't unfold her arms to accept. She just stood against Casey's chest, her head resting on his jacket, arms still curled around themselves. They stayed that way for several minutes before Casey's gaze finally turned his eyes to the stairs.

"Mike says he dug it by himself."

April nodded slowly.

"Maybe I should go—"

"He needs his space. He'll come down when he's ready."

"I'm not too sure about that." Casey peered at Don's distant eyes and Splinter's sagging shoulders before staring up the stairs again. "I should—"

"Please." Finally able to unfold her arms, April wrapped them around his neck, burying her face as deep into his coat as she could. "Just stay here a minute longer."

"Ok." Casey let out a long sigh. He placed a hand on her head and held her closer, stroking her hair gently. "Ok."


He couldn't stop shaking.

They were a good distance from the fires of the warehouse, safely moving away from the sirens, and easily in the clear of any gang members who might have tried to follow. But Mikey couldn't keep himself from trembling. His whole body. Not just his hands. Everything. Maybe it was his close encounter with death moments ago. Maybe it was the gun shots he could still hear ringing in his ears. Maybe it was that Don had been completely silent since saving their shells at the warehouse.

Or maybe it was because every drop of blood that dripped from Raph's shoulder made Mikey's heart beat faster. What if Donnie couldn't fix the wound? What if they couldn't get him home in time?

What if they lost him too?

Mikey's legs gave out from under him. He tripped, nearly taking Raph down with him, but Donnie was there to ease them both to the ground. The orange-banded turtle offered an apologetic glance before going to help his brother up again. But Don stopped him.

"But he's hurt!" Mikey protested. "Shouldn't we get back home to—"

"I need to see how bad it is before we move him more." Don quickly assured, adjusting his glasses before gently inspecting Raph's injured arm.

The silence was enough to drive Mikey mad. He held himself together for as many minutes as possible, but fear was getting the better of him. Why wasn't Don saying anything!? What was he doing? The last time he did this…

A wave of pain and pure terror swept through Mikey so quickly, he didn't have time to process his own movement. He wrapped himself around Raph's chest, squeezing—holding on—as tight as he could.

"Ow! Mik—"

"Don't! You can't! You can't die too! Leo's still gone and we're still a mess and we can't lose anyone else! Please, Raph, you can't—" His teeth clamped suddenly shut, holding in an anguished sob. Tears started rolling down his cheeks, despite his best efforts.

Mikey had no idea how long he sat there crying, clinging to his injured brother, but it felt like an eternity and no time at all. A hand to his shoulder finally brought his eyes up, red and puffy and anguished as they were, to meet Don's, staring gently back at him.

"He's OK, Mikey. Raph'll be fine. The bullet didn't hit anything vital. The most he'll have is a nasty scar and limited movement on that side for a few weeks."

Don's eyes were nothing but compassionate. Honest. He wasn't trying to make it sound better than it was. He wasn't lying. Raph was going to be alright.

Mikey shot Don a pleading, betrayed look. "You said he was fine!"

"…You're sure? What about his head? He got hit really bad…"

"It wasn't—" Raph tried to mumble before Don interjected.

"He's slightly concussed, but no major damage. After he's bandaged and hopped up on Advil, he'll be just fine." Don must have seen the fear still leaking from Mikey's eyes, because he gave his shoulder a light squeeze and added "I promise."

Mikey glanced up at Raph, who's gaze was solidly fixed on the ground. "OK…" Raph hated being the center of attention when he was hurt, so staring at the ground out of embarrassment was normal. Which meant he would be alright. 'Cause he was acting normal, and he wouldn't do that if he was dying, right? Right. So they'd get him home and patch him up and everything would be OK. Nothing to worry about.

"Leo's hurt, we have to get to Raph."

"What? Is he Ok?"

Don nodded. "I'm sure he'll be fine, but I need to get there and see for myself."

Mikey still couldn't stop shaking.


Knock. Knock.

Silence.

Not that he expected anything different, but Casey rapped his hand on the door again, listening intently for any sign of movement on the other side. Nothing. He sighed audibly. "Come on, Raph, I know you're in there." He waited patiently—or at least patiently for Casey—before finally giving up the pretence of politeness, no longer holding out for an invitation to enter the room. "I'm comin' in." He announced blandly, slowly creaking the door ajar to peer inside. All the blinds were pulled, shrouding the suite in darkness despite the few rays of light from the setting sun snaking their way through every crack and crevise available. Casey's eyes adjusted quickly, and he stopped when he noticed the bed overturned in the corner, clearly thrown there in a fit of rage.

Leo's bed.

So that's how it was going to be then.

Gathering himself as he closed the door, Casey made his way across the wreckage of sheets and pillows to find Raph on the floor in the darkest corner of the room, shell leaning against the wall, arms wrapped around his knees tucked into his chest, and as far away from Leo's tossed bed as possible.

Casey didn't bother with a greeting or asking any questions. Didn't bother with small talk or attempting the "we're here for you, man" speech. He knew it would fall on deaf ears. Because he knew this type of self-destruction. Intimately. He knew talking wasn't going to help. Not Now. Not yet. He picked up a blanket from one of the other siblings beds and draped it over Raph's shell, fully expecting it to be thrown aside immediately.

The red bandana didn't even flinch.

Good. Sort of. At least Casey could make sure he warmed up. From what April told him, Raph had been out in the cold a long while, and experience had taught him that cold blood and cold weather don't mix too good.

He lowered himself against the wall beside his friend, making sure to keep enough space between them so they weren't touching, and sat. As his eyes roamed from Raph's scowling face to the sais held tightly in his fists, he made a note not to make too many sudden moves. Wouldn't want 'getting skewered in a fit of depression fuelled rage' added to the list of horrifyingly emotional scenarios they were going to have to wade through tomorrow.

Which is what this was. Or what Casey assumed it was. Depression fuelled rage. Same thing he'd felt when he lost his mom. Difference was, cancer took his mom, not a thug. Illness stole his family, not some cowardly asshole with a gun. Raph was still the only one who knew what really happened on that roof, but Casey was sure of two things: it wasn't Raph's fault, and Raph was blaming himself for it. Casey's mom had been taken by a disease and he'd still felt responsible for not finding some way to save her. He could only imagine what it must feel like when it was a skilled ninja vs a weapon.

Someday Raph might want to talk about it. Someday he might need a sounding board for his rant about how much of a crapshoot this whole situation was, and how much it hurt to have watched it all happen, and how hard it was going to be to move on. But that day was not today.

Raph and him, they were cut from the same cloth. They felt the same overpowering anger controlling their lives, the same craving for violence, and the same passion for justice. They worried about the same things and refused to admit that their anger came from fear of losing what they loved.

Which is why Casey knew. Today wasn't a day for talking. Wasn't a day to make anything right, or help anyone feel better. Wasn't a day to grieve, and wasn't a day to even think about moving on.

Today was about sanity. About furiously clinging to anything solid, and holding onto the rage for dear life. Because the rage was familiar. The rage made sense. And once it was gone, the pain would set it. And they'd do anything to avoid the pain.

It was a theory, anyway. Casey couldn't know for sure. Their situations had been drastically different, as had their ages. It was possible the hollow look in Raph's eyes wasn't pent up anger, but something else entirely. It was possible he was experiencing this all in a way Casey couldn't understand and he was only making assumptions to help himself cope with seeing his friend so broken (damn if some of Donnie's psychological mumbo-jumbo hadn't rubbed off on him…). But whatever the case, he sat. Silent and still.

In the dark of the room, Casey stared at the toppled bed, thinking of the person who'd slept in it and how gut-wrenching it was that he'd never sleep in it again.

Stupid. Some cowardly-ass, ignorant thug gets off one lucky shot…

His anger flared in an instant. He glanced once more from his shivering, hollow, friend, gripping his sai for dear life, to the last vestiges of sunlight setting behind the curtains, and could think of only one thing to describe the whole situation. So he said it with feeling.

"Shit."


Don's fingers carefully grazed over Raph's shoulder once more, checking the severity of the injury. Just a flesh wound. Through and through. Heavy bleeding, but nothing internal. No organ damage, and too close to the shoulder bone to have hit a major vein or artery. Nothing a few stitches couldn't solve.

Minor. Not life threatening. The bullet wouldn't kill him. Not like—

Don couldn't even see the wound itself through all the gushing blood. He wiped the rain from his eyes—was it the rain? When had it started?—and did his best to inspect the bullet hole. But between the weather, the lack of light, and the fact that his heart was pounding too loudly for him to focus on anything else, he couldn't find much.

Not that he needed to. He knew the truth. Knew it almost from the moment he'd gotten Raph's phone call.

There was nothing they could have done.

"M'Fine."

Raph's annoyed tone cut through Don's thoughts, bringing him back to the present. Back to the terror he'd felt when he realized Raph had left the lair. Back to the shock that Mikey had gone with him. Back to the paralyzing dread that his remaining siblings could be laying on some rooftop, injured and bloody, with no help on the way.

Dying. Alone.

Don's feet had never moved so fast in his life. He was out the lair and leaping rooftops for several minutes before his mind had a chance to remind him to turn on Mikey's shellcell GPS. By the time he'd made it to the docks, the warehouse was already on fire, and Don's fears choked him with all the ways it said his brothers could have been killed already.

And then he spotted them. Saw Raph take a hit. Saw a man level a gun at his head.

He honestly couldn't remember what happened next. He'd felt his pulse spike, his dread thicken, and his anger rise, and suddenly he was in front of his brothers, telling them they needed to leave and ignoring the thug lying in a heap behind him.

"Raph, don't!" Mikey's plea as his brother tried to stand brought Don back to the present, but went unheeded by their injured sibling.

"I'm f—"

Raph's hand was back to clutching his head, and the two younger turtles were both already in front of him, helping lower him back to the ground.

"Dude, take it easy."

Raph only growled in response, once again clearly annoyed at being the one injured. And Don suddenly felt his anger rise. Mikey continued to fuss over Raph, who continued to try standing with little success. But Don couldn't move.

His fists clenched tight, his jaw set hard, and he could practically feel his blood boiling beneath his skin.

"Come on," Mikey scooped under Raph's shoulder, once again balancing him as he prepared to leave. "We should get home."

"Why bother?" Don finally stood, turning his shell to his brothers and clenching his fists tight. "Out here's where you wanted to be, right? Out in the middle of all this violence and hatred and death." He looked out over the distance, glaring at the fire of the warehouse. "This is what's important to you. The fight. The battle. That's what you care about. Not your family, not your brothers, not even your own safety!"

Raph didn't say a word, but a pang of guilt stung Mikey as he heard the anger in his brother's tone. "We're sorry, Don. We didn't—"

"Why else would you run off into the night without a word to anyone, without telling us where you were going or letting us come to help? Why else would you disobey Sensei's orders, knowing full well he set them in place because he's terrified of losing another child?"

"Don—"

"Why else would you be so blatantly ignorant to the people around you and how the past few months might be affecting them?"

"Don, please, we didn't mean—"

"He told you not to go!" Don whirled on his brothers—on Raph—eyes flickering with anger and fear gripping his muscles.

"I told him not to leave."

Again. How could he do it again? After everything that'd happened, everything they were still trying to work through, how could he? Why didn't he learn!? "Why do you do it? Why do you go off alone like that? Why do you insist on leaving us all behind!? You know it's dangerous to go alone, and yet you always do! You always disobey!" Hands balled into fists and anger spilling like hot lava, Don couldn't stop himself. "He told you not to go, and you left! Why didn't you just listen for once!? Why didn't you follow orders!? If you hadn't left, he might still be—"

An explosion in the distance cut him off, drawing all three turtle's attention. The warehouse looked like it collapsed, sending up plumes of smoke into the air. The fire was under control, only embers remaining as the pile of rubble slowly burned itself out.

Don turned back to his siblings, resentment and fury still writhing to get out. But the moment had passed. Raph's head was still leaking blood and Sensei was sure to notice they'd all left and was going to lock them in the lair for the rest of their lives. They needed to get back. "…Come on. Sensei's probably worried."

"Dee, wait." Mikey easily saw the pain fuelling his brother's anger. He understood. But there hadn't been time to go back for him or Raph might have left on his own. And what they'd come out here for was important. Necessary. "We're sorry." He turned to Raph, hoping for a head nod or something to indicate his remorse, but received none. So he quickly continued. "It was for a good reason. We had to come for it. They'd mounted it to the wall like some kind of trophy. We had to take it back."

Don kept his shell to them, unable to look for fear he'd give in to Mikey's pleading eyes and forgive them when he was still far too angry to do so. "Take what back?" He asked through clenched teeth.

"This."

Raph's solid voice jarred Don slightly. He gave in, turning to see what his brother held out to him. "Is… Is that…?"

It couldn't be. In his adrenaline fuel panic, he must not have noticed. How could he not have noticed?

Coal black saya, gold-tinted oval tsuba, and ocean blue cord wrapped about the hilt.

Leonardo's katana.


Last week marked my second year anniversary of writing fanfictions. Somehow it feels like longer.

As always, please feel free to let me know if anything is unclear (particularly with how much back and forth there is in this chapter).

Comments/Critiques/Suggestions always welcome.

-TRAaP