No excuses for the long delay, other than the intrusion of real life.

Michelangelo relieved Leonardo of his watch at midnight. Leo made a point of squeezing the back of Michelangelo's neck in a strong, reassuring grip as he whispered, "If there's any change, call me right away." Michelangelo just shrugged away from the touch, nodded and settled onto the stool beside the bed.

He waited, silent, motionless, until he saw the light in Leonardo's room wink out, then he reached out to grasp Donatello's hand. The lair was dark and silent, the only light coming from the bluegreen glow of the medical monitors to which Don was linked.

"Hey, Donny." Michelangelo's words seemed to echo in the quiet, so he lowered his voice. "How you doin', buddy?" He felt slightly stupid, knowing that there would be no answer, but he continued. "You know, I read one time that even if somebody is in a coma or unconscious they can still hear people talking to them, so…" He stopped again, shrugged, and gave Donatello's limp hand a squeeze. "So I'm talking to you."

He eyed the monitors, with their scrolling data, the steady undulating lines of Donatello's breaths and the staccato jumping spikes of his heartbeat. "Splinter and the guys, they're going back to find the stuff to make you better." Michelangelo leaned in closer. "And hopefully they'll kill Bishop while they're at it."

And then it happened. Michelangelo nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Donatello's fingers tighten around his own, and he leapt to his feet, sending the stool crashing backward onto the stone floor. "Guys!" His voice cracked into a higher register as he shouted, "Guys, quick!"

Donatello's lips moved slightly, so Michelangelo leaned close, close enough that he could feel the warmth of his brother's breath on his cheek. "Don't go…" Donatello's voice was little more than a rough, rasping whisper.

"I'm here, bro, I'm not going anywhere." Michelangelo tried to reassure his brother, but Donatello's grip tightened painfully around his fingers.

"S'trap…" Donatello's eyes fluttered as if he was fighting the gravity of unconsciousness. "Don't go…"

"A trap?" Michelangelo's heart tripped quicker in his chest. "Bishop is setting a trap?"

Donatello didn't answer and his grip on Michelangelo's hand began to slacken, but his eyes sought Michelangelo's with a weary desperation. "Jus' let me go," he breathed.

"Don't you dare say that," Michelangelo snapped, anger rushing up hot in his chest. "You're not doing to die, 'cause I'm not going to let you." He took a breath to temper his emotion. "It's not the same without you, bro. You can't give up. We need you." Michelangelo was surprised by the well of tears that slicked his eyes without warning. "I need you." With his free hand he brushed the skin of Donatello's bicep. "You're my best friend, and I need you." He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the skin of Donatello's hand. "You have to fight, Donny, please."

When he opened his eyes, he found Leonardo, Raphael, and Splinter standing silently over him, their faces hard with determination. Splinter looked down on his youngest one with sad yet determined eyes. "We will not allow your brother to lose hope, Michelangelo. Nor shall we allow the specter of a trap set by his attacker dissuade us. We shall go with open eyes and wary minds, but we shall go nonetheless." He tipped his head to the side and made sure that Michelangelo was looking him straight in the eyes. "Donatello will live, my son. Have faith."

But Michelangelo had to turn away to hide the fear in his eyes.