Chapter 1 in a series coupling L & R.

Rating: this chapter PG13 (?), things will develop into an M rating follow this chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own characters

Warning: adult language and will eventually contain yaoi/Tcest relations.

Chilled Warmth

By Zye

Donatello had rarely given much thought to the concept of hope. He had always considered hope to simply be a state of positive thinking, a strong desire to achieve favorable results from a given course of action. However when every course of action has been exhausted, when every stone has been overturned without result and still no trace of his lost love ones have been found; hope has proved to be Donatello's worst enemy. Hope has let him down at every bend, it has repeatedly crushed his heart and now it has abandoned him almost completely.

Donatello and Michelangelo had returned late and alone to the lair where Master Splinter had been waiting expectedly; he will never forget the look upon his father's face. The flicker of light that instantly extinguished within the old rat's eyes when only two of his sons hovered, dripping and shivering within the entry way; anxious and worried his father appeared to have aged a decade in a matter of seconds.

Don's maul opened then shut again, wordlessly, as he tried to formulate an explanation as to what had happened. What had happened? It was still a question for which Don had no real answers only a handful of raw facts.

Prior to his brothers disappearance Don had noticed several alterations in Leonardo's behavior. It had started when Leo had been 'late' to training due to over-sleeping, which was about as likely as Michelangelo saving a slice of pizza for a late dinner guest. At meal times he seemed to only push his 'smaller than usual' portion around on his plate, a loss of appetite was troubling yet not unheard of. Don had assumed his elder brother was perhaps battling a virus or waging an internal moral debate, either way he believed Leo would approach him if he was needed. Don strived to always respect his brothers' privacy even when it was oblivious something was amiss.

In hind sight, vision is always 20/20; Don would give anything to go back in time and confront his proud brother. During a chance encounter with their enemies, while out on a training-run in the abandoned substation, Don's attention was again focused on Leo. The fight was intense and Leo seemed almost lethargic and rather sloppy in his attacks and defenses. Leo was clearly not focused on the fight and he was in real danger of serious injury or worse. Luckily, Michelangelo had also seemed to notice and remained close to his side throughout the battle.

Donatello had decided to speak with Leonardo about his concerns when they returned home. He never got the chance. They were almost half way to the lair when Leo had slumped seemingly mid-stride, and then fallen from the beam they had been crossing. Raphael impulsively leapt into the rapids after him and they both were pulled beneath the dark waters. Don had hoped they would resurface but they didn't.

After a stunned moment, they attempted to track their brothers via shell-cell. They raced parallel tunnel for several miles following the strong colored bleeps, hope surged as the signals stilled. Both cells had been recovered relatively close to one another though neither with their owner. They scrutinized the surrounding tunnels for evidence of their missing brothers, not even a footprint was discovered.

Then their search was halted prematurely by a severe storm raging on the surface above; the precipitation had swelled even the once dry tunnels to dangerous levels. Donatello and Michelangelo were forced to retreat, dispirited and without their brothers.

Master Splinter was waiting anxiously by the entrance of their lair and of course he knew; Donatello had called shortly after the discovery of the shell-cells and maintained the line of communications throughout their fruitless search. The shimmer of hope in his eyes quickly extinguished when only he and Michelangelo dragged themselves through the door. The search and rescue would have to wait as sleeting rain continued to fall and temperatures dropped to just below freezing.

Their Master made no comment as he wrapped them in a warm blanket; the three of them simply held one another and hoped their loved ones were safe and alive.

Raphael's survival instincts kicked in like a blunt blade to his throat, his body was rapidly losing precious heat and was uncontrollably shivering in attempt regulate his core temperature. His first thought was that somehow the pilot light had gone out on the furnace once again and bellowed for Donatello. Receiving only silence as an answer, he pried his eyes open and slowly scanned his surroundings; he was not in his room nor was he in the lair. Confusion swept virtually all coherent and rational thoughts from his rapidly cooling mind; a switch had been flipped and a primitive drive urged him to move.

Instinct demanded him to leave this place, to seek shelter deep within the moist earth or die. The reason was compelling enough for Raphael to put forth serious efforts into regaining control over his body; his powerful arms and legs created heavy and uncoordinated movements as he struggled to his hands and knees. Painfully he pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the little knives of fire stabbing him; he took a staggering step forward then another.

For an unexplainable reason he glanced back at the cavern he had crawled out of; the sight of a semi-frozen body curled on the hard stone sparked a flicker of recognition. He stared dumbly at the other for several minutes before finally a thought leaked through the ice in his brain and things got a whole lot more complicated.

Weeks later their brothers were still lost to them. Donatello crossed out yet another day off his tattered calendar; with a sigh he turned his attention back to the maps and blueprints littering the surface of his work desk. Taking a slip of black coffee, his eyes squinted and blurred as he follow a pale blue line across one of the sheets of schematics. It was difficult in his sleep deprived state and he soon lost track of the path he was attempting to follow.

The lab had certainly seen better days; it had been transformed into a place similar to Mike's room. Unfinished projects were shoved aside buried under a growing layer of dust and dirty plates and coffee mugs were stacked precariously on almost every available surface.

Their search had continued throughout the bitter cold, relentless winter; Thanksgiving was spent with flashlight in hand exploring a labyrinth of natural passageways and the abandoned subway tunnels. Christmas and New Year's they searched mile upon mile of an underground river within the climate controlled safety of the Donatello's deep-sea diver.

Leonardo and Raphael didn't simply vanish without a trace; however the likelihood of their survival has drastically plummeted into the low percentiles with every hour, day, week, and now months that have past. Hope was no longer enough for Donatello, he needed a miracle. A miracle that would come in the form of the spring thaw.