It was... really hard to walk into the sanctum. Everything was dark and quiet. Rats and spiderwebs had taken up the residence. There was a terrible draft and the arcing doorways that ran up a few floors were yawning ominously. The television and couch and kitchen were empty. Don wondered if Klunk had taken to their new home.

"Your things were left untouched," Leo said as they stopped in the center of the stonework. he held out the syringe, and Don took it with hesitant fingers. "You know where it is."

"Uh, thanks."

Rapheal walked by, bumping him in the back of the shoulder roughly. "Yeah, we don't want to hear it. So, tell us. What's this convient posion Mike's got floatin' around in his body?"

"Rapheal, you're making things worse," Leo ordered. "Take Michelangelo and return to the lair. Tell Master Splinter what has happened."

"And what about you, fearless?"

"I'll stay here and keep an eye on him. Go."

"Fine. Just be careful, yeah?"

Rapheal didn't argue, which was strange in and of itself, and took a reluctant Mikey with him back into the sewers. Don didn't watch them go. Just stared at the vial and the little bit of red still in it. He'd need Mikey's blood work done too, but figured that could wait. It was surreal to be standing there anyway, and he needed a moment to gather his thoughts. Leo walked by him, towards the lab without a word.

Don followed and found that, yes, nothing had been touched. The machines were quiet and dark. The little space he used as a doctor's office was heavy with dust and the cabinets had been emptied. Guilt broiled in Don's gut. Leo had a bit of medical training, but not enough. Never enough. Their fearless leader would sometimes crack under the pressure when being faced with a severe wound. Don hadn't pushed him to help with more serious injuries. He wish he had.

"So... yeah." Leo coughed into his hand, loosing the riggidty he'd been maintaining. "Here we are..."

Don would need power. He wondered if he could get it turned on before the night was over, and reminesced about his old junkyard runs.

"Hey."

He looked up. Leo was watching him, looking up and down.

"I... want to beleive you," Leo began slowly, choosing his words carefully. "But... I can't. Not yet. If you are telling the truth, and I will only say this once, then I'm sorry. If you are lying, and this is one of Shredder's tricks, then..." he sighed and said too quietly to hear, "please, just let this be real."

"You took the generator," Don said instead, unable to find the right words to answer with. Leo looked up, reformed his mask, and nodded. "Then I need another. I'm not allowed to leave this place, I assume?"

Leo nodded. "I'll be here to watch you tonight. And after what happened, I think it's best to stay here for the next few days. I'll... have Rapheal retrieve one. But we can't leave you alone."

Don stared at Leo for a long moment, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to just take in his face and eyes and mouth - things that were settled down and not currently twisted with terrifying fury. He just looked tired. Normal, almost, if not wary. He couldn't imagine him looking happy. It was too distant a memory. Leo looked away, unable to hold his gaze. Don almost laughed. He had no trouble on the roof top.

"Um... you can... take off that uniform," Leo said uncomfortably. "Your bed and gear is still in the back."

Ah. Bed. Wow. Don almost got lightheaded just thinking about a soft matress and the weight of the covers that smelt like damp moss. The Shredder's lair wasn't built for comfort. He had a low cot in Baxter's lab, but no pillow or blanket. Just springs and a thin rubbery layer to seperate them from his shell. He didn't want to undress in front of Leo, though. Not that a simple belt and kneepads wasn't considered bare.

"Thank you," he said instead, dipping his head a little, walking through the dead machines and unifinished projects he'd completely forgotten about. Leo stood there and watched until Don dissapeared around the cornere where he found his bed and the little counter beside it. His old journal, for late night ideas and "brilliant" ideas for new inventions, was open. A glass sat beside it, rimmed white where it had been left full of water. He sat down and groaned.

Yeah, okay. This was amazing. He couldn't help the wide smile that bloomed across his face or the pure bliss in his limbs as he sunk into the matress. It was thick and layered with several sheets, his two pillows so much softer (and muskier, but what can you do?) then he recalled.

"You're not going to take off those clothes?" Leo's voice cut through his bliss and he sat up, finding his brother staring at him, the word clothes rolling off his tonuge in disgust. "I want to talk, but... I don't want to while you look like that."

Oh, Don's own revulsion of the attire had worn off after a month or two. He had forgotten that foot logo was even etched onto his chest. It had become so normal. He slipped off the mask first and then the gloves and wrappings around his feet. He didn't take off the garbs over his shell or the belt at his waist that held it all together. He would have felt too naked, and when he folded everything up on the bed and waited, Leo only looked marginally happier.

"Fine. That's fine," Leo bit out. "Now what exactly is going on with Michelangelo?"

Don bit the inside of his cheek. "Ah, yeah. That. It's one of Baxter's inventions. I don't know a lot about it, beside the fact that he was infected a few days before... ah, before I was appraoched. By Karai."

"That night you dissapeared," Leo's voice wanned a bit, then regained his strength after a short cough into his fist. "Go on."

"She told me what I told you. Mikey was poisoned, and unless I wanted to watch him die, I'd help The Shredder's cause." He shrugged. "Simple as that."

"And you didn't know you had a year to figure an antidote out?"

"Not until Baxter sprung it on me a year later, the same day the posion was set to... combust," he said, for lack of a better word. He wasn't sure what the word combustion meant, but Baxter had been grinning a mile-wide when he said it.

"And that night... was the night you hurt him."

Don physically winced and looked away. "Yeah. Uh, Baxter gave me this," he held up the syringe and set it on the counter. "He said I had to inject it by two a.m. Mikey was freaking out and I dropped it. I had a few minutes left and..." he trailed off, unsure how to phrase his next words. "I panicked," he admitted. "I panicked and I knew I had to get it into his bloodstream, even if it meant hurting him. I'm sorry, Leo. For all my big brain's worth, I really fucked it up that night."

Leo stiffened. Whether it was from the uncharacteric curse or the use of his nickname. "I see."

"But I will make it right," Don burst out, hating how impassive Leo sounded. "As soon as the lab is up and running, I won't stop until I figure out a cure. I... I'll also need something more than the generator."

Leo raised a brow.

"A blood sample. From Mikey."

Leo stiffened. An air of something dark hit Don like a cold spell and he regretting bringing it up tonight. Leo merely nodded, told him not to leave the lab, and that he'd retrieve him in the morning. He left as stiff as a board.

Suddenly, the bed wasn't as soft as it had been.