The wan, gray tendrils of the morning light crept slowly over Mikey. He was nearly folded in half, covered behind a long-abandoned line of battered crates and cans, where the shadows and the buildings bled into one dark, concealing alleyway. Mikey was softly snoring, with his knees pulled to his chest, and his head resting on his folded arms. A swift wind rolled through the alley, scraping up bits of paper, and leaving them to flutter languidly to the soiled concrete. One of them circled and landed on Mikey's bent knee.
Startled, Mikey shot awake and jumped to his feet in an absolute panic. Instinctively, he lurched backwards, towards the shadows of the vacant building. He tensed, and listened, going absolutely still and waited for any sound to alert him to any trouble. There was no sound except the ever present roar of cars and people and life a few city blocks, and a world away. He shook himself, scrubbed the sleep from his eyes and stared at his surroundings, as he remembered the awful argument between him and Donny, and his crazy bolt away from the anguish. After leaving Donny to deal with his venom, he didn't really have any intention besides circling back to the Lair and seeing if anybody was left alive, or if there was anything left at all.
He must have fallen asleep, because when he left, the night was thick and black as oil over the sparse surroundings, and now, a bird was twittering on a forlorn branch, and he could see the sky turning gray with the morning sun. He needed to hide. Mikey scowled uneasily, wondering if it would be better for him to circle back to Donny and try to formulate a plan, or venture down into the Lair. The sun was rising, and he didn't have much time to make a decision. He squinted up at the sky, and then down at the manhole cover. He stooped, latched onto the metal and gave it a savage tug, and winced when it landed at his feet with a loud clang. He shuddered at the sound, nearly clapping his hands over his ears to stop the ringing, and he panicked again when he had the troubling thought that anybody could have heard that, and he was all alone.
He pivoted, ready to spring, and after circling a few times, he breathed a deep sigh of relief. There was nobody to see anything. The block was still vacant. Mikey stooped to peer down at the sewer, the familiar rungs leading down into the darkness, the distant clangs and groans of pipes running underground and for a moment, he felt like he was only going home.
Only, he wasn't.
Mikey stared at the manhole cover he had just yanked up, and fought tears. It had once been home, haven, safe. And now, he lingered on the edge of that abysmally black hole, trying to scrape up the nerve to jump down and go home, or what was left of it. The opening stood, huge, gaping, and he trembled when he had the morbid thought of being eaten alive. And he stood on the edge, so numb and sick with terror that he doubled over and barfed before he could stop himself. Mikey bit back the whimper, and slapped a hand over his mouth before the betraying squeak could be heard. It wasn't safe to stand out here, and it was torture to stay, and it was hell to go back. There wasn't any good choice. Hell, there was no choice at all, Mikey thought, bitterly. He hesitated a moment, and then, silently leaped down into the darkness.
He landed with the grace of a cat, and automatically went still, listening warily for any sounds. He heard nothing but the familiar creaking of pipes, and the long, dull roar of air shifting through the tunnels. He sensed nothing but overwhelming silence and emptiness, as deep as the grave. He turned towards the left, deeper into the darkness, navigating by long instinct. He knew the way so well that he could have walked the path with his eyes closed and still find home. Donny hadn't taken him that far away, at all.
Mikey slowed, now, crouching and waiting to hear any sort of betraying noise, or attempt at an ambush. And even though he had come alone, he honestly didn't have much fear or hope of encountering anybody down here. His unease grew to a full blown panic when he saw the corridor that hid the Lair's entrance, and he halted, waiting for any scrap of noise, or voice, or hint that at least one of his family members had survived.
"Guys? Master Splinter? Is anybody here?" He whispered, timidly, half afraid of being answered. He didn't need to worry, not about that. There was nothing but overwhelming silence. He stepped forward, and stopped when he saw the scattered bricks, and smelled the acrid stench of burnt wood. The bricks were scattered everywhere, erratically, and there were more and more as he made his way to the Lair.
He crossed the last corridor, and stood and stared. The Lair had been completely disemboweled. Through the jagged, wound that the Foot had blasted through the far wall, he could see the remains of his shattered home. He stepped through the wall, slowly turning to see the damage. What wasn't broken had been burned, and what hadn't been burned had been destroyed. The overstuffed chairs, salvaged over the years, had been slashed and overturned. The table where they had gathered around for pizza had been overturned and broken, the tapestries, and the posters and the television-everything-had been thrown into a massive pile and torched. He stared at the ash, and the fluttering bits of paper. He could recognized the last scrap of a pizza receipt, a bright swath of Splinter's wall-hanging, one of Donny's science texts, intact but so blackened that it would never be read again.
He shook his head, disbelieving as he slowly walked around the remains of the living room. He didn't have the guts to venture down the hallway to see what remained of their bedrooms, or the lab. He stood, rooted to the ground, numb and scraped raw and beyond shock, or rage, or fear. He stared, shaking, as his fingers curled up around his eyes, and he felt his tears spill, and his sobs squirming around his clenched teeth like a trapped animal.
He nearly shrieked when he felt arms latch over him, and tug him close. He panicked when he heard Donny whisper his name, and shift him until he had his forehead buried in Donny's shoulder, and his last brother's steadying arms cradling him like a child. Donny didn't do anything but let him cry.
Mikey never knew how long he cried, or how long Donny had held him together, but he finally heaved a shaking breath, and let Donny guide him to one of the few intact chairs,and shove a cup of cold tea in his hands. Donny pointedly sat down a battered plate of sliced bread, smeared with peanut butter.
"I know, it's not much, but it's all I could find to eat around here." Donny said, quietly.
Mikey shrugged. "Hey, it's better than nothing." He gave Donny a wan smile,that Donny didn't return.
Mikey nibbled at the bread, and asked, "How did you know I was down here?"
Donny sipped his tea. "I followed you down here. I imagine that you were too distracted to notice."
Mikey nodded. "Yeah. I was. I'm sorry about storming off like that. I shouldn't have done that to you."
Donny narrowed his eyes at Mikey. "Speaking of things you shouldn't have done, you shouldn't have fallen asleep in broad daylight above ground, or left without telling me where you were heading."
Mikey looked apologetic, but he managed a tight smirk. "You know, you're starting to sound like Leo."
Donny managed a chuckle. "Oh? And with your storming off, you're starting to act a lot like Raph."
At the mention of their missing brothers, both fell silent, Mikey's eyes filling again, and Donny tactfully ignoring his tears by studying his teacup. Donny also ignored Mikey's sniffling, because his own eyes were in danger of spilling over.
"Donny, what if they're gone, and we're the only ones left?"
Donny set down his cup, and met those beseeching eyes.
"Our father and brothers are alive, Mikey."
"How do you know that? How do we know that they weren't just killed off and we're-" Donny stopped Mikey's flood of questions with a sharp, "Because I know!"
Mikey was quiet for a few seconds, and he finally asked, "How? Did one of them send a postcard or something?"
"No." Donny shook his head, and gestured towards their bedrooms with a dark scowl.
"We were being watched. I found some recording equipment in Leo's room, some hooked up in our living room, but mainly in Leo's room, right above his bed. They were small, crude devices, nothing sophisticated, or noticeable, but very easy to hide. I found two, Mikey, and I have no idea how long they were up, or even how long we've been under surveillance."
Donny paused to give Mikey some time to absorb what he had said. Mikey looked at him, worriedly.
"Was it only Leo's room?" Mikey asked.
Donny nodded, and to his shock, Mikey exhaled a deep sigh of relief, and a wan smile curled over his lips.
"That's good."
Donny raised an eyeridge. "Mikey, how in the world can that possibly be good?"
Mikey held his wan smile, but it wilted as he gazed around the Lair.
"Because it means that Leo is still Leo, Donny."
Mikey saw Donny's eyes darken, and winced at the cold distain in Donny's voice.
"After everything that he's done to this family, you're still looking to excuse him. Why?"