Michelangelo trotted through the dim tunnel easily without the use of a light. He was walking a path that was so familiar, he probably could have done it with his eyes closed. The turtle kept a steady pace as he headed in the direction he'd assumed that Brandon would have gone.

The man could have found his way back, but Mike was concerned about the possible triggers Brandon could face in the sewer. He didn't want to imagine his friend getting terrified and stranded in the labyrinth of tunnels that he normally knew fairly well.

It's easy to get confused when you're panicking, and I don't want to take the chance on Bran. I'd rather track him down myself.

He'd been straining to hear the sounds around him, detecting nothing more than the faint overhead traffic and the usual disturbances that comprised their underground world. As Mike continued pounding the pavement, his thoughts were drawn back to Donatello.

I hope Donny got back to sleep after all that ruckus. He didn't look that great.

Concern pulsed in the back of Michelangelo's mind. It was usually simple to tell when his purple-masked brother was attempting to veil his pain, but today felt different. Donny appeared weaker than Mike had noticed in weeks, and it had led to him confiscating Donatello's laptop. That's what Doc would have done. He'll be back soon, and I'm sure he'll check with Donny first thing. Nobody could ever get anything past that man, Mike thought wryly, before focusing on the real task at hand.

Brandon might not have come this way. It might be time to backtrack and search another direction, but I think I'll go a little further just to make sure.

Mike cleared his throat and called his friend's name, hoping for an answer. He'd started out the trek by yelling for Brandon, and had received no reply except for the echo of his own voice. As he hesitated this time, the turtle picked up the sound of movement close by. Something was out there.

He followed the source of the sound for a few more feet, until he found someone hunched over on the ground against the wall. "Bran?"

The man didn't speak, but at least he raised his head.

"That doesn't look too cozy down there," Mike commented. "Why don't you get up and c'mon home with me?"

Brandon shook his head. It looked like he wanted to say something, but when the man opened his mouth he was cut off by a hoarse gagging cough.

Mike grasped him firmly by the shoulder. "Don't fight me, dude; get up. You don't wanna get sick right here." He supported the man under the arms as he guided him toward the water.

Brandon suddenly jerked away from Mike, falling to his knees on the side with a more prolonged fit of coughing. Mike silently stayed closeby as the man got sick over the edge of the concrete. It felt like the episode wasn't going to end anytime soon, and the turtle forced himself to be patient while he waited.

"You're okay, Brandon," he encouraged him finally. "Everything's gonna be all right."

His friend never said a word, but surprised the turtle by intentionally slumping in his direction. Mike wrapped an arm around him again, swallowing inwardly as he considered calling one of the doctors for him.

"I'm so tired of this," Brandon mumbled aloud at last.

"I don't blame you," Mike said. "I would be too. Are you feeling anything weird? Should I call for help?"

Brandon shook his head. "My stomach is in knots, but there's nothing new about that."

"Do you think you can handle getting back to the Den? This isn't a comfortable place for you. You need to lie down and rest."

"Rest doesn't help any more than running. I don't want to go, you guys don't understand," he stumbled.

"You don't want to go where, Brandon?"

"Everyone pushes, wants me to talk. If it would make me feel normal, I'd do it, Mikey. If I could purge every memory in an instant, I wouldn't care how much it hurt. But the couple of times I went there, when I tried to say it, I just…"

"You what, Brandon?"

"I chickened out. I wish I could explain what it's like to live with the irrational fear. When I'm stuck in the middle of a flashback or a memory, I get paralyzed. Sometimes I don't even have the option of fight or flight. Usually I can't do anything at all. That's not something I want to go around triggering, Mike, and talking about it makes it worse."

"I think it's gonna be hard to talk about at first, Bran. The only way it's going to get easier is if you keep doing it. It might not make sense to think about the worst stuff on purpose, but you're not about to give up. That's not you.

"In spite of everything they put you through, you never told those idiots anything. Can't you feel good about that, Brandon? Very few people have endured the kind of pressure you did without talking. You were better than them."

"I didn't have a choice," he faltered softly. "Mike, I reacted out of instinct. Protecting the four of you, it's deeply engrained inside all of us. There was no question over whether I'd cave and tell those bastards anything. You can make up your mind to keep your mouth shut, no matter what someone does to you."

"I don't think you give yourself enough credit," Mike said.

"Credit for what?" he scoffed. "I didn't outlast them, Mike. I never came close. The only reason I'm still here, is because they wouldn't let me die."

Michelangelo shifted on the cold cement, searching for words. "Then thank the morons, and move on to the next hurdle, Bran. You're glad you didn't die back there, aren't you?"

Brandon wouldn't look at him. "I think a large part of me did, Mike. Any hope of being normal feels so faint." The man's breathing quickened. "I want to pretend that it didn't happen and start with a clean slate."

"But it doesn't work like that; you can't just decide to be this new person, Bran. You're still gonna be you, with the same memories. You don't have to deal with everything at once, dude, but you gotta start facing some of it. A little bit at a time, and you're gonna make it."

Brandon sighed. "I don't like someone putting me on their time frame, Mike. I can't get over all of this just because you guys want me to."

"Nobody expects you to 'just get over it,'" Mike countered. "They're fighting for you, Bran. The harder you try to hide, the more we're going to pursue you. Change places with us for a minute. If it was one of us in this situation, you'd be doing the same thing that we are."

Brandon shook his head. "I guess, probably…"

"Don't look at it like we're trying to force you to do something you're not ready for. At the same time, we're not going to give up on you, no matter how hard you fight us."

"Okay," the man said faintly.

"Okay?" Mike repeated. "Okay what?"

"I don't want to fight you, or anyone else."

"Could you try believe that things can get better, Bran? No matter how bad you feel right now, you need to remind yourself of that. All of this crap, all of the pain, it won't be this bad forever. It won't. There's a healthy way to deal with this, and keeping it inside isn't it."

Brandon hadn't so much as stirred from the position in which he was propped against Mike's side, but when his phone rang, the turtle had to shift apologetically to answer it.

"Hey, Mike. Did you find Brandon?" his oldest brother greeted him.

"Yeah, he's here with me, Leo. I think we'll head back soon."

"Good. Did you happen to notice anything weird with Don earlier?"

"He was acting tired, and I think his head was bothering him. Why, Leo?"

"I think he's got a temperature," the blue-masked turtle replied.

Mike sat up further. "Did you call Doc?"

"Yes; they're only a few minutes away as it is. Is Brandon okay?"

"Sort of. We can talk more when we get back. Keep an eye on Donny for me."

"I am, Mike."

When Michelangelo hung up the phone, Brandon was staring at him.

"Why did Leo have to call Doc?"

"It's for Donny," Mike told him. "He could be coming down with something."

The man jerked to his feet as if he'd been branded. "Yet it's always about me, isn't it?" he said under his breath. "Is it serious? Is Donny going to be okay?"

"Bran, relax. It didn't sound like an emergency, and the docs are almost here in any case. Things are under control, but we probably should get back."

Brandon nodded. "Let's get moving."

Mike watched the man out of the corner of his eye while they walked back toward the Den.

Brandon didn't look at him, but spoke up after a couple of quiet minutes. "I'm sorry for making everything about me, Mike. It's too easy to get consumed by everything I'm going through, and forget about what Don has to deal with."

Michelangelo's arm went around his back once more. "No one really blames you for that, Brandon. Without some kind of outlet, that's just how it's going to be."

The man didn't say anything else for the rest of the journey back to the Den, but he met Leonardo's gaze steadily when the turtle greeted them at the door. "I'm sorry, Leo. I appreciate you trying to help me."

Leonardo gave him a probing look. "I'd be happy to work with you on some of the techniques again, Brandon, if you feel like you want to."

The man nodded. "I would. I think the breathing could help me get over the hump on some of the worst stuff."

"That's the idea. Are you all right?" Leonardo asked seriously.

"Yeah," he said somberly. "What's up with Don?"

"I went to sit with him after Mike left. He asked for his laptop first, and I didn't give it to him. He looked too tired to be doing any more research."

"I thought the same thing," Mike said. "Has he been working too hard, Leo? We can't treat him like he's all better."

His older brother shook his head. "We'll have to monitor his activities more closely." Leonardo turned to Brandon once more. "Why don't you sit down, Brandon?"

"I'm going to hit the bathroom first, and I'll be back."

Mike headed for the Lab as the man left the room, and realized that Leonardo was following him.

"What did you say to him?" Leo asked.

"Not much, Leo. It felt like some of the same stuff we've told him before. We gotta keep wearing him down, I guess."

Leonardo heaved a breath. "Like waves beating against the rocks."

"What's Raph doing?"

"He's probably still upstairs. I know he's feeling extremely frustrated, but he was way too hard on Jazz when she dared to disagree with him."

"We all know it's not safe to do that," Mike returned. "He'd want to know if something's wrong with Donny though."

"You're right. I'll go get him."

Michelangelo slipped through the door of the Lab, and found his purple-masked brother in the process of trying to sit up. "Will you take it easy, Donny?" he chided. "If you don't feel good, why are you trying to do anything?"

"Because they're out there, Mike, and God knows what they're planning to do next."

"When you're tired, you're tired, Bro. You have to quit at some point."

Donatello looked annoyed, but the expression faded rapidly into discouragement. "There's nothing there, Mike," he said after a moment. "I've been over those flashdrives from the Agency with a fine-tooth comb. The business was nothing but a convenient cover for the Akiudo."

"Good. That means you can give the computer a rest for today."

"No, it means we have nothing!" he snapped. "Those men are preparing to unleash another assault on the city, and my mind is reeling with possibilities. They've used explosives, chemicals, firearms…we don't even know what to expect from them! Lying here waiting for them to do something is one of the worst feelings I've ever had."

Michelangelo grasped Donny's wrist, imagining that he was transferring calm to his older brother. "Yeah, it sucks, Bro. But what good is playing with your computer all day going to do?"

"I've got to be prepared for when Takashi calls Greg back. You know he's planning to," Don explained. "If I can get set up with the satellite fast enough, it's possible I might be able to hack Takashi's phone through Greg's signal. The problem is procuring enough time to realign the satellite for my own use."

"Is this something you've done before?"

Donatello nodded. "I took a security detail for a television satellite company a couple of years ago, specifically so I could get easier access to one. I can do it; it just takes time. Longer than a phone call would probably afford me. Takashi's bound to keep it short. I have to find a faster way to hack the satellite so that I have time to tag the other phone."

"Tag?" Mike repeated.

"That's going to have to wait," Luke announced from the doorway. "As of right now, you're still my patient, and you'll do as I say."

Donny rolled his eyes. "Terrific. Back to being a hostage."

"If that's what you want to call it, fine," the man said firmly. "Your shell belongs to me."