A/N: Hey guys! Thank you everyone who has been reviewing! It really helps motivate me to keep writing! Again, I'm sorry about the speed at which these chapters are coming up. I have the basic plot bunny for this whole story, but I'm trying to get as much as possible out of it, and a lot of it being created spontaneously as I go along. Anyway, here's chapter three!

Splinter's brow furrowed deep in concentration. He had been pouring over his books for a while now, yet none seem to be helping him any. Of course, he'd be better suited to find out what exactly his son had if Michaelangelo showed more symptoms. Right now, all Splinter could see was a deep cough and high fever. Trying to get anything out of his son was difficult. Mikey wasn't really up for talking with the exception of a few moans that would come from him once in a while. It was clear that the child was in pain, but until Splinter could identify that pain, all he could do was assume.

It'd also help if he had better books to study. Of course, living secretly in the sewers didn't allow for much option where reading material was concern. It didn't allow for much materials period. Splinter felt he couldn't be gone for too long without one of his sons wander or himself possible being seen by a human. It was even more nerve racking to think about going out at night once the boys were in bed. They were able to do a lot for themselves at five, but not defend themselves if need be. So with those fears stewing the on the back burning, it never gave Splinter much time to go out and savage. Who's to complain though when you have four young turtles and yourself that you must protect?

Splinter sighed and dropped his head into his hands. He was worried sick about Mikey. It would have been one thing if he was just running a temperature, or if he was slightly discomfortable. Yet, when the child is constantly crying because of the discomfort, you can't help but to worry. Splinter had a sneaking suspicion about what his youngest had, but he couldn't help but want to deny it.

"Give it a little while longer." he kept telling himself. If he waited a little while, maybe whatever this sickness was would just clear up and Mikey would be ok within the next few days. Yet, part of Splinter knew that if his suspicion was right, going very long without giving Mikey the proper care would certain leave them in a much worse spot.

"SENSAY!"

Raph stood still by the bed, his brown eyes wide. Mikey, who had been deep in sleep, suddenly woke up with a jolt. He leaned over the side where Raph wasn't sitting and began to heave. As if the sounds of the dry heaving wasn't enough to scare Raph, when Mikey settled back into his pillows, he breath had become rapid, like it was difficult for him to breathe.

What else could the five year old do except call for help?

Leo and Donny had already made it into the room. When he saw what was happening, Donny ran right out of the room, deciding that if Raph's yelling hadn't been enough, he was going to get his Sensei's attention. Leo on the other hand glued himself by Raph's side, taking in all of what has happening.

"What happen'd Raph?"

"I, I dunno! He just woke up all of a sudden and threw up. And now he's breathin' funny!"

Their conversation had gotten no further than that, because they felt two paws push them gently out of the way. Splinter sat down by his son's side, putting a paw on Mikey's brow. Donny came to stand with Leo and Raph, and they watched anxiously for their Sensei to say or do something.

"Leonardo, go get a bowl of cold water. Donatello, go fetch a clean wash cloth from the bathroom. Raphael, go get the extra blankets from my room."

The three boys wasted no time in following their father's instructions. They practically tramped over each other to just get out of the room.

Tears began to stream down Donny's face. He was scared. Never before had he seen any of his brothers or himself as sick as this.

Leo created such a huge ruckus in the kitchen trying to find a bowl, you'd thing that WWIII had kicked off. Once he had found the bowl, he got so much water on the floor that a fish could probably survive.

Raph was literally swimming in blankets. He grabbed every one he set his eyes on, and was soon dragging out at least a half a dozen blankets. He was rapidly chewing him bottom lip, trying to keep from crying. He had to be strong for his little brother.

Night time was settling in. The temperatures began to drop, the fall finally deciding to compromise with it's brother, winter. The clouds hung ominously above, fat and full with moisture. It wasn't too long before the streets of New York were drenched with water. A crisp smell arose into the night air. It was the kind of smell where you'd wrap your robe around you tighter, and smile softly as you sipped your tea.

No one in the sewers took notice to this though.

Mikey's breathing had finally returned to normal, his chest rising and dropping at a steady pace. He was asleep now, and by the looks of it, seemed it would be a while before he'd even stir. His lungs still ached, but the drowsiness that filled his eyes were even stronger.

Splinter wrung out the wash cloth that Donny had retrieved for him early. The cool drips of water rippled in the bowl, making tiny waves rock around. Folding the wash cloth in half, he placed it on Mikey's head. The young turtle's fever had still not broke, and there was no doubt in Splinter's mind what young Mikey had.

He was suffering from pneumonia.

"Sensay?" the small voice was so quiet, even Splinter's sensitive ears almost missed it. Splinter looked up to see Raph's head popping out from under a blanket. The boys had been in bed for about an hour now, yet it looked as if Raph hadn't even considered sleep yet. Splinter sighed.

"You should be asleep Raphael."

"I know, but I can't sleep." replied the little one, sitting up in his bed. He huddled in the blanket that had been covering him. This was the first time that Splinter had noticed the it wasn't the yellow blanket that he had given his son. He was even more surprised to see it on top of Mikey. Raph treasured that yellow blanket, and he never gave it up, ever. Yet, here it was, given to his youngest when he needed it most. Splinter could feel a tear of joy slipping down his cheek.

"Is Mikey gonna be ok?"

Splinter snapped his attention back to his son. The light in the room was dim, but he could see Raph's eyes, big and wide. It was amazing to see how much bigger they seemed once the bandanna had been discarded.

For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, Splinter sighed again.

"It's hard to say Raphael." Splinter didn't really know what to say. That seemed like the safest answer to give. To say that he was going to be alright would seem horrid later if it proved to be wrong. Yet saying that it looked dismal would put the young child in distress.

"Do you know what he has?" came another question. Wasn't it Donny would was to ask the constant row of questions?

"An illness known a pneumonia my son."

"ne'moanya?" Raph cocked his head, stumbling over the word. Splinter smiled at his attempt.

"It can last for days, or many weeks. We won't be able to tell how well Michaelangelo is doing until the sickness progresses a little."

Raph nodded. Splinter watched as his second eldest seemed to drift off into an endless thought process.

"Come now Raphael, it's time for bed." Splinter rose and walked over to his son, to tuck him in again. Sleep seemed to now be calling the turtle, and he nestled down in his bed.

Splinter rocked quietly in the old chair, watching his littlest, scared to even let his gaze falter.