A/N: I know this is stupidly short - I intended to make it longer, but I'm bogged down with school work again. Le sigh. So this is actually the first half of the second chapter, but I figured I should post something. Forgive me ^^;

2.

He'd never run so fast in his entire life.

How many times had he thought that? Every time he was tearing through the midnight streets, he seemed to be going faster than before. But right now, it was hard to imagine a time when he would ever need to go faster. All three of his brothers were running out of time. He was running out of time.

Why was it that they always ended up in these situations? One would think that giant mutant humanoid turtles, who tried to have as little contact with people as possible, would lead pretty boring lives. But no. They'd been to different dimensions, different galaxies, different time periods; attacked by the government, mad scientists, ninjas, monsters, aliens … It was a wonder they ever had any downtime at all.

He chuckled darkly, and then focused his thoughts. Better to concentrate on the task at hand. He would get Donny first, then Raph, and finally Leo. It made him sick to his stomach to have to prioritize his brothers—like one of them could ever be more important than another—but it was necessary. Don's situation was the most unpredictable. Once the rope snapped, it was all over, and he didn't know how long he had. So that justified going after his geeky brother first.

Raph second. Why Raph? Because Mikey couldn't dive into concrete to save him. He would have time, time before the wet cement buried his brother in the pit. He could haul Raph out, wash off the concrete.

That left Leo last. Mikey allowed himself a small smile. His older brother would want that, to be last. The rest of the family had to be rescued first. But that didn't make the decision to leave Leo's life on the line the longest any less painful. If he had read the map right, it would also leave him the farthest away from the antidote.

Just before the Big Boss had cut him loose, he'd sneered down at him.

"Your family, or your life. Tough choice."

"No choice."

No choice, indeed. Like any lowlife could understand. Without his brothers, his life didn't mean anything. They were four or they were nothing.

Don't think, just run.

So he did. He moved like a ghost over the rooftops, almost invisible in the moonlight. His heart was pounding in his ears. What was wrong with him? He hadn't been running that long, so why was he already struggling for breath? It couldn't be the poison already. It must be his mind. He knew he was poisoned—dying—so his body was mimicking the symptoms early.

Or that's what he hoped, anyway.

I'm coming, Donny. I'll be there soon.

He just had to control his breathing. If he was right, the building Don was on would come into sight soon. As he sped past, he heard the familiar drawl of a late night talk show host, coming from an open window. It was sometime around midnight. Had he really been running for half an hour? It shouldn't be taking him this long. Something was wrong. He wasn't just imagining things.

Doesn't matter. I can still make it. I can save them.

He pushed his body on. He could see it now, the building. Hopefully he wasn't too late. As he peered forward, searching desperately for any sign of his brother, he stumbled. It wasn't much; he barely slowed down. But his ankle rolled unexpectedly, unexplainably, and his stomach dropped. He had to hurry.

Two agonizingly long minutes later, he made it to the rooftop of his destination. Almost instantly, he saw Donny, dangling over the fatal drop, suspended by a crude crane of sorts. As he neared his brother, he could hear the strain of the rope holding Don up. Mikey sprinted forward, ignoring the slightly twinge of pain in his ankle. He reached his brother just as the rope holding him up snapped.

"Donny!"

His arms shot forward, wrapping around his brother's torso. He skidded forward a few inches, before he managed to lean backwards. He managed to force himself backwards, and landed flat on his ass, Don's dead weight crushing his legs. Despite the fact that he was in a hurry, Mikey paused for a few deep breaths, mostly to calm himself down. He couldn't recall a time when he had ever cut it so close before.

Too close. That stumble had almost cost him everything.

Raph and Leo wouldn't have blamed him—at least, not openly. Leo would pat him on the shoulder, tell him that it wasn't his fault. Raph would brood, act more abrasive than normal, maybe ignore him for a few weeks. But deep down, despite themselves, they would know it was his fault. He hadn't moved fast enough.

They had almost become three.

Mikey gently lifted his unconscious brother off his legs, and laid him on the rooftop. "Don." He shook him roughly, hoping that somehow he would manage to break through the drug-induced sleep. After about thirty seconds of shaking him, Mikey knew he couldn't waste any more time waiting for his brother to come around. He would have appreciated the extra help, though.

"Guess it's a one-turtle show," he grumbled, taking off into the night.