Started: 11-18-12 Finished:11-19-12

Happy Holidays Fan-Fiction addicts!

Fact Note: The guys are 17 now, so therefore, they were 15 when S.1 started.

Words: 3,113

Drywall Drawing, Robots, Meditation, and Snoring

Leonardo

I check over my brothers injuries, assessing what they would and would not be able to do. Not overly displeased by the results, I turn my attention to finding a safer place to hide. Raph is keeping watch, and he would never let anything past him with his brothers battered as they were. I look at the fire escapes, allowing it to take purchase in my mind solely do to the fact that we can't very well go out into the street in broad daylight. I then probe my mental map of the city for any possible storm drains or otherwise deserted sectors near our current location. I can only think of one possible location, an old apartment building set for demolition. The only problem was that in order to get there, we would have to do some roof jumping in our condition and in the light. To do either in isolation would have been simple, however them both in conjunction creates a brew ready for problems.

I look at the sky and discern that it is about 11 in the morning, a long, long way away from sheltering darkness. It would take about 20 minutes to get to the apartment building. "We're going to the old apartment building about to be demolished. We're going to have to do some roof hopping to get there though." I know that they would persevere through the pain to get to safety, even at the risk of worsening their injuries. The only thing that they had to truly worry about now was surveillance cameras. Normally they could skirt around in the darkness, where the cameras are very weak. However, due to their constant midnight prowls, between them they knew exactly where all the rooftop cameras were within a mile of each manhole in New York City.

We all get up and take a last, in depth scan of the alley and street that we could see, making sure nobody would see us. The coast is clear, and we scale the wall to the rooftops. Mikey is favoring his right leg, Raph seems to have a mild concussion, Don is covered in bruises, and I have a slash going down my left arm to the bone. That slash is a major setback for me, due to the nature of my weapons, but I will manage the best I can, as will we all. Master Splinter was visiting the Daimio, so he was safe from Don's Creation. We would all cross the bridge of Master Splinter when we came to it, but that sure won't stop me from worrying about it.

We leap from rooftop to rooftop, each of us painfully aware of our surroundings. Mikey winced a little as we landed from a particularly high jump, no doubt he was in a lot of pain to be showing it. We had been trained from a young age not to show any weakness, be it physical or mental, in any situation, and the fact that he was showing it now, even a little, showed that he was in a lot of pain. I check where we are in the city. *5 minutes.* We can hold out, and then we'll check over our injuries. With nowhere to put our weapons besides our hands, we were slightly disadvantaged when we had to scale the side of a particularly high building. This would have been a simple matter of finding the cracks in the wall and climbing it, however now our hands were full with our weapons. We make do, just like always.

We grew up never having the right materials, always having to improvise. We each made our weapons out of scrap metal and furniture people had thrown away. Don had been very lucky in his finding of the oak dresser, or he would have had to make his staffs out of an inferior wood. Mikey was able to unearth some holly from an old jewelry box, and inlaid the ends with bits of iron. Raph and I made our blades out of steel that we had scavenged from broken down buildings and other various forms of scrap metal. Before we could begin in depth weapons training, Master Splinter had forced us to learn how to make our weapons first. By this point, Raph and I were nearing the level of master blade smiths and Mikey and Donnie were highly adept at carving. Only after we made a decent weapon would Master Splinter begin teaching us the fine points of using them. Then once we had nearly mastered our weapons, we made another set, this time using much better materials.

The building is only one block away now, so I begin to search for hiding spots. There are, thankfully, many shadows gracing the walls of the building. Not wanting to make much noise while trying to access a room, I look for open doors, a relative commonality for such an environment. We reach the building and leap over the gate surrounding it, dashing for the nearest open window or door into the building. Now in the relative safety of shadow, we begin to allow ourselves to feel our injuries. We had suffered worse, but the injuries we did have were debilitating to the point which we would have a very difficult time fighting. Michelangelo's nunchucks required him to be very agile and quick on his feet, which his leg (quite possibly splintered) would not allow at the time. Donatello's bruised body would hamper his ability to use his staff because he often must use his body to redirect a heavy blow in a feint. Raph's head (I think he suffered a mild concussion) caused him to think even less than he normally did in a fight, and would cause him to make careless mistakes that would be fatal. My arm makes me unable to use one of my swords, and I think that I bruised at least one of my ribs.

I do not hear any sign of movement around us other than the quiet but incessant sound of insects crawling through the walls.

Mikey smiles grimly and tears a metal rod from the wall to use as a cane, "Welcome to the penthouse suite, brothers of mine," he says with an arid tone. I chuckle at his characteristically ill placed sarcasm. He continues on a more serious note, "So, where are we gonna camp out?" nobody responded, much to his chagrin.

Donnie looked around guiltily, no doubt thinking about how all this could have been avoided. Raph nodded, probably glad he would not have to stay as alert.

We find a room that still had a couple of run down old chairs and some curtains lying around. This room now being our makeshift base of operations, I check for any possible makeshift weapons an enemy or us could use. All I can discern as being possibly dangerous are the curtains being used as a rope and the curtain rods being able to be sharpened to be lance like. Keeping the latter idea in the back of my mind for later, I ignore the mounting pain and call for Donnie to come and help me find out if there is any power. We walk slowly through the building in search of a fuse box.

Donnie, shoulders heavy and face downturned, was mournfully silent as we walked through the halls. The halls, although well lit, were dank and gloomy in their having come into disrepair. Spider webs inhabited the corners, the dusty shells of insects littering the floor below. A faint but discernible smell of rotting flesh permeated the halls. Don picked up his head and his pace quickened towards a steel gray rectangle on the wall of a supply closet. He fiddled with the screws a bit, the front of the box shortly falling off. While mechanically filing through the wires, he murmured, just within my range of hearing (whether or not it was on purpose I do not know), "Why the hell did I put that program on it… It's all my fault that all this happened."

It was indeed his doing, however unintentional, that we were stuck out here, but I could not say that, that was Raph's job to do. So I think quickly, knowing that I only had a moment to respond accordingly, "We'll get through this, just as we have always done with everything else life has thrown at us. The universe hasn't been so fair in its dealings between us and everyone else. We always seem to get the short stick."

His hands stopped momentarily and he glanced up at me, then turned back and continued to work, "But it is entirely my doing that we are here, so how can I not feel guilty. All this was completely avoidable, if only I had not put an intelligence program into that computer a few days ago. I didn't even notice the disappearance of a few of my extra parts and motherboards. Hindsight is always 20/20, isn't it…?"

I honestly did not know what to say to that, but I still needed to get him out of his self-induced mental punishment and isolation. Thinking in overdrive to protect my little brother, I realize that this is something best solved by Mikey. He always was the best at the emotional things. Raph is the one to go to if you need a tank in a fight. Don for knowledge, medicine, and technology. Me for strategy and levelheadedness in the middle of a fight. I know that this is not my real of experience, yet I am the one here until I can get him to Mikey. Mike and Raph had probably set any broken bones and done preliminary treatment, but they needed Donnie to do the final check.

He stood up and looked me in the eye with a vacuous stare, saying, "Mikey and Raph probably need some medical attention, so we should be headed back. If anything comes into this hall, there will be a beeping sound. I don't know how loud it will be, but it will try and beep nonetheless." He walked past me, unconsciously spinning his bo loosely at his side. I follow him a few steps back, feeling slight twangs of anxiety for his mental health.

We walk back into the room, finding Raph with a deadpan expression and Mikey, pale, looking like he had just seen a ghost. They do not make any move to acknowledge our presence, only sitting

Mikey's voice is shaky and unsure, "The mom never knew what happened to her son did she?"

Raph's face did not waver, "All she ever found was his bloody, skinned hand." Mikey gulped and his eyes started to waver.

Mikey turned his eyes to Donnie, and he promptly leaped onto him, saying, "You won't let that happen to me, will you Donnie!? Right?!" Donnie looked much less confused than I was as he returned the embrace with a roll of his eyes and a small smile. *And the healing has begun* I grinned mentally, but did not allow it to grace my face, only allowing confusion to reside there for the moment.

"Of course not, Mikey," his voice dripped with sarcasm, "Unless Raph gets to you first, of course," Mikey's face turned to one of complacent cynicism.

Raph's blank face finally broke into a broad, amused smile at his youngest brothers antics. "Gonna go and run to big brother, Mikey Mouse? Scared a big, bad human with a machete's gonna sneak up on ya in the middle of the night and skin ya to the bone?" His smile turned slightly sadistic, "I can see your face now." Mikey hid behind Don and the other three of us laughed deep, belly laughs. It is not often we all laugh so heartily together, so on the chance that we do, it is a special occasion and we are in a better mood all night. Don checks Mikey's leg, the result being, most likely, a severely bruised bone and slight splintering. Because we heal faster than humans do, it would only take him about 2 weeks to make a full recovery. He also checks over my arm. Thankfully, the blade had been sharp, so it was a neat slice, and with the grain of the muscle, so it would not take as long to recover as it would have otherwise. It would take about a month and a half to two months for me to be able to use my arm fully again, and more to rebuild the lost muscle. Raph's head would be fine, and he has no other major injuries, just some bruising. Don himself, however, had more injuries not on his body, but on his mind.

We settle in, the quality of the light telling me that it is about one in the afternoon. If we had been in better condition and had all of our normal accessories (belts, pads, etc.), then we would have found a little alcove somewhere and watched the clouds pass overhead, a rare treat for sewer-dwellers. Humans took that for granted, being able to walk around without the world running away from you out of fear for what you look like. We have seen aliens that were more easily accepted by humans than we were, and that's just sad that an offworlder would be more accepted than a native earthling would.

Mikey started to get very fidgety about 30 minutes after we settled in, with Donnie's fingers twitching about 15 minutes after that. Michelangelo, being the turtle with the most energy, probably needed to move around, despite his lack of sleep. Donatello was probably itching to work on something, as he had probably been in the middle of a project when we left and the thought of leaving it was finally getting to him. His overactive mind was probably working on it unconsciously as he thought about it too much. He did that sometimes, as well as a multitude of other idiosyncrasies. Raph and I just meditate to keep our minds calm. He would not normally have been meditating, but he had nothing better to do, and he knew that he needed to practice going into deep meditation.

They get even twitchier; however not even close enough to break my concentration. Raph's focus, however, is not even close to my level. My eyes still being closed, I hear him growl at them, most likely accompanied by a glare. The silence themselves, Donnie getting up and walking around the room, Mikey picking up an old piece of drywall and using it to draw on the tile beneath us. We are all relaxed, resting our muscles. I was about to drift off to sleep, the wind outside blew over the windows in a very relaxing manner. I open my eyes to find the beginnings of a shell for a little robot in front of Donnie, a picture of the apartment building we were in before Mikey, and a slumped Raph sounding like the beginnings of snoring.

That we were all so relaxed gave light to how alone we were. Nobody would come looking for us save Master Splinter or possibly Leatherhead, if they were nearby. However Splinter was in another dimension at the moment, and Leatherhead is rarely the one to come seeking us, we normally are the ones coming to him. We only expect two groups of people to ever come looking for us, the Foot and the Purple Dragons. Since we so rarely come out during the day, and they also very rarely do anything during the day, we expect very little to surprise us.

We fall asleep, confident in our ninja skills to wake us at the sign of danger.

I sleep very lightly, the slightest sound waking me up. My brothers sleep the same way. Years of training ourselves to notice the slightest sound or sign of movement in even the darkest of shadows has long been engrained into us, even in sleep our instincts are constantly coiled.

Donatello's head hitting the keyboard when he works himself too long

Michelangelo letting the remote fall from his hands when he falls asleep during a movie marathon.

Raphael's heavy footsteps coming across the foyer upstairs as he goes to bed.

A sword coming out of its sheath.

They all cause us to come fully awake. Because of this, it has been a very long time since all of us have had a night of solid sleep at the same time. One of us make a sound, at least one of us wakes up. That Raph woke up so late this morning is testament to how heavily he sleeps.

I nap until day turns to dusk. I wake to the sound of very faint shuffling. I am the lightest sleeper of the four of us, so I am the only one to have been awoken. I may have imagined hearing it out of paranoia; however, I do not think this is the case. My instincts rarely lie. "Guys," I murmur, low enough so as the sound not to carry outside of the room, but enough to wake them. Their eyes open and I make a motion to ensure their silence. They do not question me; none of us would question the other if any one of us were to have put in this position. However, they do give me a look asking why I woke them up. I do not respond, however I do pick up one of my swords and move closer to the window, listening for the slightest sound that would be out of place in the current setting. I hear nothing; however, I do not loosen in my intensity. Peering out into the darkening exterior, I see nothing else out of place. My resolve beginning to loosen, I sit back down.

My brothers look at me, asking wordlessly what she shell I was doing. "I thought I heard something outside," I say with a nervous edge. They perk up immediately, hands unconsciously gravitating towards their weapons. "I don't think anyone's there, but I'm going to go check anyway. The robot could have found a way out and is looking for us." We all get up and head out the door. I had a bit of a feeling that they would all come with me, but I purposefully left it open in case they wanted to stay. We may not get along all the time, but in the end we are all each other has. Others may turn on us, but we would never truly turn, get very, very, pissed sure, but truly turn… never.