Author's Note: I'm happy to bring a longer chapter! I'm just so excited, I tried to fit in as much as I could! I look forward to continuing very soon! I love hearing your thoughts, so please feel free to leave a review, a message, or follow me on my tumblr [same username]! Thank you to all of you who have been reading and following, I look forward to continuing this journey with you! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Song quote: "Right Here" by Ashes Within

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A Turtle & His Sisyphus

...

"I can see all the fears you face. Through a storm that never goes away."

...

/./././././././././././././././././

"I'll do it myself."

And he did. Michelangelo knew when it was important to focus his attention. His stomach turned, his heart felt like it was jumping up and down, but he fought to keep his firm stance. Act like Leo, be tough like Raph, be smart like Don.

Once his messages were sent, Mikey suited up. He knew in his comics when the sidekick put on the hero's costume, it either felt really weird or empowering. Mikey felt weird. Without the under armor it felt stiff, uncomfortable. His mind wandered into how Raph even fought in this. Mikey was more flexible, he was never still and moved a lot when he fought. It was freeing, it was how he is. Now, it doesn't seem so hard. Not only did it not fit him right, but it wasn't him. It's not Raph either. It's the Nightwatcher. Man, we really should have gotten rid of this!

Bishop handed him with the syringe, it was a light red liquid, and a small earpiece. "Now, you will lead them away from the building. Once you are more than a mile away, send the emergency alert. They will be following you, no doubt. This will keep us in contact, I set it up in the helmet. And the sedative will do the job. Remember, I am always nearby. Disobey me, and I will have your family apprehended and—" A sinister smirk stretched across his face, "let's just say you their demise will be far, far, worse. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes." Mikey gave a quick nod. He was itching to be out of the building, but more so to figure out a way out. "I'm ready."

"Oh, and one more thing…" Bishop quickly grabbed his arm, twisting it back Mikey struggled back as he quickly stabbed his neck with a smaller needle. "Just in case your loyalty is questioned."

Mikey maneuvered his way out of his grip, instinctively putting his hand over his neck. "N-No, you said you wouldn't do this! I said I'd do it!"

"I'm aware," Bishop casually shrugged, returning his hands back in his pockets. "I just enjoy you being my little test dummy. I mean, I could always recruit one of your other brothers. I'm not sure about Leonardo, he was rather easy—I should have kept his hand as a souvenir for you. So much for being so 'fearless', hm?"

"Shut up." Mikey hissed, feeling his glare intensify.

"Donatello is always an interesting asset as well." Bishop continued, his smile growing wider at the sight of the turtle's anger. "I wonder what would happen if I dissected him while he was still alive, what would that do to that brilliant mind of his. Or I can always count on Raphael, as well. I wonder how much it would take to break him, oh that'd be so much fun to watch him slowly crack and crumble—all because of you."

"Shut up!" Mikey was standing by his old bed, and then he wasn't. Somehow, he moved like lighting. His strength intensified as his vision clouded. He found himself raising his kusarigama blade to Bishop's neck. His mind screaming to end it, but his body refusing to move.

"Just as I suspected," Bishop dully noted, his smile remaining. "No matter how much you want me gone, your brain sees me as an ally—you cannot hurt me. Good to know. I wonder what will happen if you let your anger get the best of you in front of your brothers. Would you stop just the same? You best begin moving."

"My son," A distant voice called out to him, sounding much closer and further. More like an echo in his head, "Let me help you."

You can't, Sensei. I need to figure this out myself. I'm sorry…

Michelangelo waited until Bishop was far enough to glue his eyes to the ground, pretending to fidget with his—no, Raphael's—gloves. Was he really about to fight against his brothers? Would the drug make him do it? If they find out…They can't. I'm sorry, guys. Mikey has never actively tried to block them from his mind. Of course, most of the time it's out of desperation. Although Donnie and Leo said they heard Splinter in their mind, once, he or Raph never had a direct experience with it. Mikey didn't necessarily know how to stop it from happening, but he drew every force of inner strength he had to focus his mind on the task alone. He didn't know if it could work or not, but he had to believe it was enough.

After all, they didn't hear his cries for weeks. What are the odds any of them hear him now?

I can't let Bishop release that weird stuff into the city, drugged or not I'm not hurting my brothers either. Man, I wish the Nightwatcher actually had superpowers or maybe—!

Wait.

"Remember," Leonardo's voice echoed in his head. "All our earpieces that Donnie gave us let's us hear exactly what Raph heard. Only mine, and Donnie's, can actually communicate with Raph only if an emergency. Remember, there are two frequencies you can switch on and off to. Frequency #1 is Raph that you can all hear. Frequency #2 is to the rest of us, besides Raph, where you can talk amongst each other in case for some reason we all get separated. Too much chatter can raise the frequency, hence why Raph is on his own…"

If Bishop hooked up the communication with the channel, then the helmet is on Frequency #1. Raph never switched to Frequency #2, or at least I don't think he did! If I switch frequencies, then I can hear and talk to my bro's! Wait, if that's true, then Leo and Don—if their even still using these frequencies—can hear whenever Bishop talks to me directly since we'd all be on the same channel. If they hear him talking to me, they'll know I'm 'planning' on attacking them. I can stop this, somehow. I will.

/./././././././././././././././././

Any other chance to do this would have been wicked cool. But this was the opposite of cool. Michelangelo knew he was in deep when he was escorted, out of his white-coated-prison room into what looked like to be Bishop's office. His heavily armed guards didn't give him much conversation either, regardless of his efforts. His eyes wandered through every passing room, hoping to recognize someone, anyone, to help. Mikey thought of Karai, for a quick moment. Last he knew, she was a temporary ally. The Justice Force did that plenty of times before and it didn't seem to bite back as much! But she wasn't there, no one was.

A freaky virus is about to unleash and there are no mad scientists to be around to have a party? What the hell?

His thoughts were quickly interrupted by a shove of one of the goons out the back door. Mikey cried out, rolling his eyes. "Alright, alright! I mean, the shoving was totally not necessary. I can walk!" Mikey forced a laugh, anything to make light of what was happening to him—what was going to happen.

Now he found himself outside, in the brisk air. He took a deep breath, painful breath, before taking off in a dash. He had to move, his body begged for it. His instincts kicked in as he rushed to the top of the building and ran as far away as he could. He ran as if he was leaving the whole world behind. He was the fastest after all. He joked to himself, maybe he can run away from Bishop—from everything—and just go home.

But Mikey was far from home, away from safety and his family. But not for long. Opening his shell-cell, he clicked the emergency frequency. Picking up his pace, he continued forward.

Mikey knew he got always got himself in sticky situations, but he always found a way around it. Usually he wasn't alone, or his brothers weren't far behind. His anxiety grew with every step he took. He was alone, and after what Bishop wants him to do—Mikey's heart sank, knowing it may be something he needs to get used to. Looks like I'm going to have to go solo. Leo, Raph and Don have done solo missions and got themselves out. I'm not gonna let Bishop start the zombie apocalypse, and there's no way he's making me hurt my family. I gotta focus, I gotta get myself out. Come on, think!

"Call them," Bishop's voice caught Mikey off guard, almost forgetting his availability on the frequency. "Make it sound believable, or else I will. Don't stop moving."

Like ripping a Band-Aid, he flipped open his shell-cell clicking on Leonardo's number. The dial rang twice before his oldest brother's cautious, low voice, spoke. "Hello?"

Mikey wanted to scream. Leo was okay! He was talking, he was alive—somehow—but that didn't matter how. For weeks, or however long it actually was, he was desperate to hear his brothers' voices. He wanted to be home so badly. Oh, right. Let's hope those April Fools Acting Skills still work…I'm sorry Leo, I'm sorry.

"Leo!" Mikey allowed himself to be vulnerable for that moment, desperately wanting his family to come. "Leo! You gotta help me-!"

"Mikey!" Leo sounded just as relieved, but it didn't last long before he went into full leader mode. "Mikey, where are you? Are you okay? How did you-?"

I wish I could tell you, Leo. Mikey wanted to cry, he sounded so desperate. Leo just wanted him to come home. He forced himself to continue his act, "Whoa! Whoa! One question at a time, dude! I'm fine, I'm trying to get some distance form the manic!"

There was a silence on the line, only his own huffing through running the bitter cold. He thought he could hear Donnie's voice in the background—Donnie! He's okay too!—but it wasn't enough. They weren't saying anything. Did they figure him out already? Do they already know about the frequencies?

"Listen, Mikey." Leonardo's voice was stern, as if he was suspicious already. "I need you to meet us in on of our zones. Can you do that?"

Why isn't he asking about if I'm okay or sounding more worried? I mean, he lost a freakin' hand and all he's thinking about is—!

Wait. The zones?

Oh, shit! The freakin' pizza location named zones! How did I completely forget about that? That would have been a way better plan… Michelangelo knew he had to recover fast, knowing Bishop was both listening and nearby. "Uh, can't right now!"

Oh, that was real good. Megan Fox is better at acting then me. Crap. Crap! The silence returned, raising his anxiety even more. He can't let them find him, and going there would have been a better option. I can't go there unless Bishop is away from the frequency and me. Why aren't they saying anything? He had to get them to talk to him, anything to silence the anxieties. "L-Leo? Dude, please, I'm really freaking out right now! Where are you? Are you coming?"

"Mikey, I need you to listen to me." Leo's voice was so calming; he made it so much easier. "We're trying to get to you. You remember where the zone is, and you know Don's code to access the gate—get there, seal it behind you and we'll be right there. Is Bishop following you?"

Dude, what about 'can't right now' does he not get?! Typical Leo, always sticking to his plan—!

Wait, why would he want me to go there so badly? I can't say that Bishop is-! Mikey cursed under his breath, as he halted his running. Catching his breath. His mind was flooding, he felt his head grow heavier. No, I can't let it happen again. His stuttered, trying to fix his story. "Yes, I mean, no, I-I don't know! He's gone! I-I barely got out of there, I don't think—I can't get there, Leo. I'm—AH!"

"Enough!" Bishop barked in his mind. A wave of electric shock singed through his body, screaming through every muscle in his mind. Collapsing on his knees, he tried his hardest to fight. To fight Bishop from gaining the pleasure of his suffering. To fight Sensei from entering his weak, stupid, broken mind. To fight the very idea that he has to hurt his family in order to save them. To fight the drug seeping through his veins. He allowed himself the few seconds of screaming, it was comforting to hear it echo out in the sky rather than his own head. He wanted it to end, all of it. It was too much, too suffocating.

Mikey didn't know what was worse. Letting Bishop be the upper hand, or himself.

But Mikey knew what would hurt more.

He rose back to his feet, and picked up the pace.

He had to end this, one way or another.

/././././././././././././././././

"He's still moving, we're close! Stay straight!" Donnie called out from the rear of their herd, treading only a few feet behind Raph and Leo. His eyes shooting from his shell-cell to the way ahead. "Guys? What are we going to when we get to him?"

"I don't know," Leonardo quickly responded, hoping to avoid the possibilities. "We won't know until we see what state he's in. If anything, we calm him down like before—if he gets hostile, use the tranquilizer dart. The sooner we get him home the better."

"And if Bishop is followin' him?" Raphael retorted, matching his pace with Leo's. "If he attacks again and he uses Mikey-."

"We'll handle it. Getting him away from Bishop is the top priority." Leonardo saw a flash of movement ahead of him, jumping to the building on his right. Turning his head, he saw something run further away from them. "Don? Did he just move?"

"Yeah! Hang right!"

"Is that him?" Raphael asked in disbelief, as they ran closer behind him. "Is that? Is that my suit? What is he doing-?"

"Stay on him!" Leonardo ordered. "Raph, go in from the left. Don, you take the right. I'll stay on his tail. Move!"

Please, little brother. Don't be hurt, don't be drugged—Just end this. Come home.

/./././././././././././././././

It was empty, silent. It made Splinter uneasy. His youngest was never quiet, especially in his mind. Splinter taught them young the significant of the spiritual realm, and their ability to train the mind and body together. It gave them an inner strength to outstand even the darkest of times. It guided Leonardo back to them when he was away, eased Donatello's pain even through torture, and hesitated Raphael before acting too brashly. Even when their identities were changed, it was the happiest memories that snapped them back into reality. Each of his sons connected with their spirituality and their abilities differently. Perhaps, Splinter mused, he should have spent more time fostering that relationship more.

Leonardo was always fascinated with his lessons with him. Always eager to learn more about how to enhance his ability. He was quick to master, to understand. It was his discipline that made his connection, at times, uneasy. It was his doubts at times that clouded his mind. Splinter wondered if was the amount of pressure Leonardo faces, from himself and his own father that shaped his perception.

Raphael fights with his heart, trusting in his instincts to act first. Raphael struggled to understand the spiritual complexity, shrugging it off while focusing more on his physical training. While he respected it, and learned the necessary trainings in order to fight against an unseen force, Raphael rarely engaged in these activities. Splinter knew, like all his sons, Raphael's own spiritual connection differed than his brothers. His heart was his center, his passion speaking volumes for the connections he feels.

Donatello easily grew frustrated throughout the training. His mind was incredibly advanced, logical. He trusted in what he knew, taking comfort in the ability to comprehend and execute action that he could calculate. Trusting in the unknowing was challenging for him, and like all his sons approached it differently. It wasn't until the Tricertons captured him and used their machines to search his mind that snapped him back. Splinter heard his son's desperate cries. Donatello was in so much pain and distress; Splinter could feel his mental walls come down—desperate for anyone to bring his sanity back to him. Donatello learned to trust in his spiritual self, knowing he had the strength within him to fight back. Even through the mutation, Splinter could tell Donatello was still using his spiritual self to fight through and not hurt his brothers. Perhaps, Splinter thought, it comforted Donatello to know it's significant presence was enough.

Michelangelo was as interested as he could be. Splinter understood his son's tendencies to easily lose focus, or become distracted. Knowing they were not human, and there was no means of trying to help him medically, Splinter did the best he could to tailor their training to support his son. To his surprise, it was the spiritual training that became an easy strength. His mind was so free, open, and so happy—overtime, Michelangelo became the first to access his connection the easiest. Watching, Splinter wondered if perhaps his spiritual connection was simply himself – carefree, warm, energetic.

Then why is it so quiet?

Splinter treaded cautiously within the plane. Feeling himself treading over the emptiness, the darkness—so opposite of his youngest. He circled around what felt like months in his mind, searching for hopes of any light. He mentally held his breath, feeling he was no longer alone.

"My son," Splinter warmly reached out to nothing, "Michelangelo. I am here for you. Whatever happened, you do not have to fear me. Come, I can help you. But, you must come out."

"You can't," It was a whisper from behind, or was it beside him? Splinter still mentally turned. It sounded like his son, but it didn't. The voice sounded older, almost like Leonardo's but it wasn't. "Please, Sensei. You can't—I don't want you to be here."

"Let me help you, Michelangelo." Splinter mentally raised his voice, "You do not need to face this alone. Your brothers are coming to help you, I can help."

Suddenly, Splinter heard his son cry out in pain. A white vision flash before him, and he was no longer in the darkness. He was outside, cold and standing on a rooftop. Then suddenly he felt himself collapse down to his knees, feeling the electric shocks tremble his mind and body. Splinter knew this was in his head, and that this was no longer his mind. He was with his son, feeling the same pain just as he did with Donatello. Splinter felt guilty for seeing the benefit of the opportunity in front of him, but if his son was weakened he could break the wall more easily.

"My son," Splinter softly spoke through the pain. "You're stronger than what is happening. Do not let this break you. Fight back."

"I can't!" Michelangelo cried. Splinter felt his head look up to the night sky, surprised at the amount of stars that were out. Splinter knew this was an out of body experience, he recalled this happening previously with Donatello as well. Splinter knew the risks, fighting to stay just a little longer.

"Go!" A different louder voice crackled, Splinter felt himself—or Michelangelo—reach for his head. "End this chase or Iwill."

It was Bishop, he was forcing his son to fight against his own family. Splinter didn't have much time, he could feel his spiritual connection slowly fading. Splinter struggled with his own thoughts, could his son be drugged? Was he tortured into this? Unknowing, he did his best to quickly comfort, "My son, trust in yourself. Trust in your family. They will understand, let them help-!"

"Ah!" He struggled back on his feet, stumbling to keep on running.

"Mikey! Stop!"

"Don, cut him off!"

"No, they're getting too close!" Michelangelo was so desperate, so lost. Splinter felt his speed pick up, rushing over to the next building. He was shocked again; Splinter felt his own self cry out in pain as his youngest tripped over himself. He stumbled over the concrete pavement, his head eventually hitting the ground. His body twitched over the last few felt himself look down at his hands, which were covered in the same materials as Raphael's suit. Splinter didn't have the time to wonder, his head turned over, noticing his other sons running not too far behind. Michelangelo's voice returned to him, as he felt himself stand back on his feet and kept running. "Sensei, tell them to stop. They can't come near me, please!"

Splinter felt himself get knocked back into reality. His head hung, knowing he was defeated once again. Aging was hurting him more than he thought, feeling his mind and body physically greatly weakened. He knew the out-of-body experience was extremely dangerous if not mastered. To experience another's thoughts, feelings, even what they are seeing, hearing, and physically feeling—it can become dangerous.

Trembling over to his shell-cell, he quickly speed dialed the first number he could easily access. His mind prayed for any salvation for his family, any hope to stop this nightmare from becoming any more horrific…

/./././././././././././././././

Growing up, we didn't have much around the lair. It wasn't until we were almost teenagers that Donnie was able to figure out how to get the electricity up and running enough to support more than his laptop. Before that, we usually managed with the little things—broken board games with pieces missing, books that we were able to salvage over the years, half complete puzzles—anything to keep our minds busy when we weren't training.

Donnie's mind was born for those kinds of things. Even when we used to play with the puzzle 'together', Don would wait until our attention was distracted enough to carefully examine it himself. I remember he liked to try to fill the pieces that were missing, recreating the empty spaces with his own drawings or crafting using old cardboard. I always admired his flexibility to think outside the box, able to make even the most broken things whole again somehow.

I was the most patient with Don, ending up with me probably playing the most with him. I mean, Don practically hand-made a chess set that didn't have all the pieces. Sensei taught us how to play but Mikey would be easily distracted, and Raph would get bored or annoyed—Don took his time, piece by piece. That's when we had a tradition of just playing together. Usually we tied, I never had to 'fake' it. Don was just that good. While I focused on my defense, he was tactically planning the offense. I never truly told Don how much I loved to just watch his eyes light up when he read something enlightening, or when he fixed something just right, or when he first got the infamous toaster to work.

Sometimes I wonder if he ever feels like that anymore. Do things like that fade? When did a discovery become just something helpful to keep us alive?

Raph was more into the "doing" side of games, like me. When we were little, we always hung out the most together. Donnie took his time with games and puzzles, Mikey was too energetic to focus on one thing—Raph and I liked to be more active, which usually was us sparring together. I loved learning; Raph loved the thrill of it. Anything to keep him moving, feeling the rush.

Mikey is different. It's the experience that makes him the happiest. It was a few weeks before his birthday, when Raph and I were exploring around the sewers. That's when we found it, broken and scratched up. Someone's trash is another one's treasure, Sensei used to say. Raphael picked it up, his eyes lighting up as he shined his light over it. A skateboard. Mikey always talked about wanting one of these. I can remember him looking at me, hoping we were thinking the same thing. Don can fix it, Raph and I can make it look good—It was fate.

And that's what we did, in secret of course. Mikey was always on the tail end of whatever we were all doing, and secrets were the hardest to keep from him. We had very tight spaces in our first lair. As if sharing rooms didn't cause late night arguments and fights, we only had the one large living area, Sensei's room, and a derailed train car where Donnie kept all his scrap materials.

Since Donnie spent the most time repairing it, Raph and I had the dangerous task of keeping Mikey distracted. The first few weeks felt like months to us, trying to keep Mikey away from seeing Donnie at work. Whenever he'd get suspicious, we'd immediately play into anything he wanted to do. Which meant a lot of make believe playing, coloring, and all his made up games that ended with all of us laughing so hard our sides hurt. Even though his games were silly, it was authentic—playing as kids, it was the only time we were actually kids. It wasn't as bad as Raph and I made it seem, I caught him smiling more than rolling his eyes.

Once Donnie actually finished fixing it, with Raph and I taking turns distracting Mikey and helping him—we went straight to making it look nice. Scavenging through the sewers for paint, Donnie actually trying to make paint (which was disastrous)—Don got lucky enough to pitch together enough supplies to fix it right up.

"Is it ready yet, Donnie?"

"Almost!" Donnie smiled, carefully "I finally got the wheels turning just right, and everything else just fell into place! Just waiting for Raphie to finish up the paint and then we're all set!"

"Don't call me that," A loud voice echoed from across the room. Raphael was sitting on the floor, carefully brushing the paint over the wheels. "You're gonna make me mess up!"

"Once the paint dries we can do a test run!" Donnie was so excited. I mean, he was always fixing things around the house, trying out new stuff for his own learning—but this was one of the first things he made for us to use.

With Mikey's birthday the next day and the paint all dried, the board was ready for practice. Now, looking back on it—this was the worst thought out plan. We were overconfident, Donnie spent hours working on it, Raph worked really hard on the paint, I helped Donnie find the pieces and put it together—of course it'd be fine. We thought one test run would be good, just in case the wheels needed it.

So, being the most 'balanced' one—I tried it out first. Just roll it down the sewer pathway, nothing fancy. Donnie distracted Mikey while Raph and I went out "scavenging". I've never been on one of these, but how hard could it be? I mean, we were practically ninjas at this point already. How hard could it be?

I didn't even make it to the end of the pathway before the wheels broke, sending me and the board straight into the sewer water. After Raphael's hysterical laughing subsided, I emerged from the vaguely passable 'water' with the completely ruined board. That stopped him quick.

"Leo!" Raphael complained, snatching the broken board. "You ruined it!"

"I told you we should have tested it sooner!" I defended, feeling both embarrassed and defeated. "Mikey's birthday is tomorrow! We have to fix it!"

Raphael and I argued most of the way back, sneaking past Mikey and desperately begging for Donnie to pull a miracle. And he did, like we always ask him to. The next day came, and Mikey was full of excitement. We had a few hours left before we celebrated, and Mikey was soaking most of my attention. By the time Splinter took him away for training, knowing what the rest of us were planning, I rushed back to the others.

Donnie was near tears, and Raph was just as furious.

"What happened?!" I whispered loudly as I shut the train door behind me, "Where's Mikey's present?"

"It's doing the same stupid thing it did yesterday!" Raph crossed his arms, "Now he's gonna freak out!"

"I-It broke again, Leo." Donnie hung his head, "R-Raph was trying it out just to make sure everything stayed and it broke. I-I tried, Leo! I did!"

"I know you did, Don. It's okay," I put my arm around him, looking at the broken wheels "Hey, look, we still have some time before cake. Raph can keep Mikey busy, I'll help you fix this, okay?"

"Okay…" Don sniffled, rubbing his eyes before getting right back into work.

"Why do I have to distract him, again?" Raph complained, awkwardly shrugging his shoulders. I knew he felt bad for breaking it. He sighed and finally gave a short nod, as he put his hand on Don's shoulder. "It'll be okay, Don. I'll play that stupid Twist game with him. Leo's got ya, okay?"

"It's Twister," Donnie chuckled, offering Raph a small smile. "But, thanks for trying…Better now then when we give it to him, right?"

Donnie and I went straight to work, well to be fair it was mostly Donnie. I was trying to pick up to his pace and figure out what to do correctly. Suddenly, we heard Mikey's excited cheer.

Which meant it was time. Donnie frantically shook his head. We weren't even done yet.

I don't know what hurt more. Was it the fact we weren't ready in time and that we were about to show up empty handed? Or was it that no matter how hard the three of us tried, it never was suppose to work out?

Sometimes no matter how hard we try, we still pick up the broken pieces in hope to create something new—better. I just hope Mikey isn't broken enough to piece together…

/./././././././././././././././././

I didn't have a chance to stop him.

I was always the one to think fast. Even if it didn't make sense, it just had to work. But, I wasn't as quick then. And he already ran. Ignoring our cries to stop. We didn't even have a chance before Sensei stepped in.

"Michelangelo!" Sensei tried calling out first, taking a step forward. Mikey was too fast, and the door was already shut. With the slam of the door, that's when he snapped to us. Looking more hurt than disappointed, he slowly addressed, "Leonardo, explain why is it you and your brothers are empty handed?"

I felt awful, especially when Sensei gave us that look. You know, that 'what did you boys do now' look that he gave us more times than others. Of course, while he meant it to go to all of us—it mostly went to Leo. Raph and I were too little to understand, we saw it more as a saving grace. A way to avoid Sensei's disappointment, letting Leo take all the heat. Now I really wish I stood with Leo and not behind him watching.

I can remember the anxious stutter he used to do when he felt guilty. Frowning, Leo quickly tried to recover, "N-No, Sensei, it's nothing like that! We didn't finish his present yet! We—I thought it would be done in time! I-It broke when Raph tried-!"

"I did not break it!" Raphael defended, crossing his arms. "It was already messed up! Leo broke it first! Don was the one who messed up the pieces-!"

"I'm sorry!" Guilty was an understatement. It was my job to make sure everything was fixed properly. I was the one who convinced Leo and Raph that I could fix it in time for Mikey's birthday. I'd fix it and everything would be fine. Failure could always happen, but I did my best to make sure it only affected me—not the others.

"It is alright, Donatello." Sensei comforted, still looking distressed. "Accidents happen, and you three tried your best to make it right. Now, you must reconcile with Michelangelo."

How? I kept wondering, over and over. How can I say I'm sorry for something that should have been done weeks ago? I didn't plan ahead, I didn't anticipate the delays. I wasn't ready.

I thought I was.

I hope I am.

/./././././././././././././././

How is it almost 2:30AM? Have I really been at it this long?

April O'Niel found herself reaching for the shell-cell, hesitantly scrolling through her messages hoping for something – anything – new. She knew it was only a few hours ago she heard from Don through text, but it still didn't ease the uneasiness she felt. Ever since they resided at the Foot, they all agreed it would be best for them to keep a safe distance—just in case the Foot had other motives. Days turned into weeks, and normal returned. April went back to work after the first few days of their attack, wanting to be close if Don or Leo's conditions worsened. Casey also took off for a while; staying with Raph no matter how many times he got pushed away. After the first few weeks, Don was finally out of the woods and Leo had his surgery.

She could remember the grim, bruised gaze that Donnie had before joining Leatherhead and the Foot specialists for Leo's surgery. Before he stepped out the door, she gave him a quick hug. Promising hope that everything will be okay, she knew he faked that reassuring smile before stepping out. Raph wouldn't talk much, at least to her. When he wasn't having a drink with Casey, he was out running errands for Karai.

She knew they didn't have much of a choice, especially given their conditions. But that didn't stop April from feeling so frustrated. Why didn't she do more? It's been the first time in months she's back in action and they completely failed; Don's still picking up his pieces, Leo is barely recovering, Raph locks himself up, and whatever Mikey is going through…

She had to distract herself. Away from the defeat, from feeling so useless. That's when her real work began.

Despite Don's concerns, any opportunity to find herself near Goldburg's office she took. Upon returning to work, she did her best to try to track his locations and activity. Convinced he was truly no longer in the building, April began her plot to sneak into his office. All his numbers were cut off, the higher up's stated he was away on paid leave—April didn't buy a minute of it.

That's how she found herself lost within the small hours, sitting on their small dining room table with her second coffee in the evening and typing away with the television being drowned out behind her thoughts. It was late, but she couldn't sleep. She knew that's why Casey was staying up watching a late re-run of an older show, waiting for her to finally fall asleep at the table like she's been. But she couldn't give up now, not when she felt she was so close. Don would get this in five minutes. I can't give up, I won't.

"Don't tell me…Are you still trying to get into his email?" Casey groaned, tilting his head back against the couch for his eyes to meet hers. The grease smudges across his face spread as he rubbed his forehead, smirking up to her. "You do know these things get you fired, right? We can barely afford this gig with both our jobs—and you remember what it was like living in the sewers before, right?"

"It doesn't matter," April answered curtly, shaking her head. "Them being home is better than now."

"April," Casey sighed, defeating. He was exhausted, she knew, from both the job and his vigilante side career. No matter how many countless arguments it was worth, Casey did what he thought was best—staying close behind Raph and making sure the Purple Dragons stayed in their territory. He hoped by mapping out their locations he could get a lead. She appreciated his efforts, knowing his heart was in the right place. But that didn't stop her from avoiding his glance. "Babe, look, I know you're tryin' here but if you get fired what good would that do for anyone?"

"Sitting here waiting is just as worse!" Rising from her seat, she paced to their small kitchen to fill up her cup. "I mean, it's bad enough that they have no idea where Mikey is but that they're basically living in the Foot lair!"

"I know," Casey jogged over to her, catching her with a hug from behind. "I know, I had to cut Raph off the other night from drinking. We used to do it for fun and relaxing, but now he just doesn't talk. I've been trying for weeks to figure out where they got him, I feel like I'm getting close-!"

"Casey," April sighed, turning herself around to him. Cupping his face, she offered a small smile. "I know you're trying, but Bishop is just as bad as the Shredder was. Except he's smarter and has more money, and power. Something bigger than the Dragons is going on. I mean, what if Mikey isn't even in the city?"

"You think?" Casey looked away, shaking his head. "No, he's here. I know it. The building needs to be eating up electricity somewhere, right? There's a few more warehouses on the West End I didn't scope out, no Dragons around or anything. Could be a lead."

"You know what's still been stumping me…" April sighed, "That night they were still in the lair, when Bishop called Mikey's cell? When they were taking turns staying up and Raph said that Bishop called his cell, Bishop told him he was able to see in the lair. How long was he planning this? How did we not catch on that there was any tech in there that wasn't Don?"

"You think this asshat was planning this for months? But, why? Like, okay, I get it with the weird mind controlling drug but—what's his end goal? Just making their lives miserable? By stalking them? It's like he knew exactly when we would plan our strike, and made sure that he was nearby when he attacked. And he had those really weird microphone bugs around their house too, with the pizza, remember? Man, talk about your freak obsession... Creepy."

"We really should do a scope of the lair you never know-."

"There's no point in that anymore," Casey shrugged, reaching for the fridge to open another beer. "We can do that when they go home—Bishop already saw and got whatever the hell he wanted from them. The problem is what he's going to do with that drug. With Goldburg disappearing, I'm starting to wonder who Bishop's 'friends' actually are. The Purple Dragons retreated back to their territory besides a couple of them, Hun included. They always want a cut of the action. But, if the Shredder was able to schmooze his way to the mayor, Bishop had a freaking army at one point. Do you think he'll expose the guys?"

"Maybe I should give the guys a call-."

"I believe they are currently unavailable at the moment." The couple snapped over to the source of the voice. Sitting on their dining room table, the window behind her opened she shuffled through their mail that was sitting on the table. Karai smiled smugly, flipping them back onto the table. "You two must be getting old, you didn't even hear me knock. I just had to let myself in. Rude indeed."

"You." Casey hissed, instinctively putting his arm over April as he stepped in front of her. "Can't imagine what brings you over to our parts. Where are the guys?"

"Busy," Karai answered simply, rising from her seat. "It seems that Bishop has moved to the offense. The turtles are pursuing him."

"The offense?" April echoed, worry rising in her voice. "Wait, the guys are out? What's going on? Why didn't they-?"

"It all happened rather quickly," Karai cut in, walking over to their window she stared up. "They received a distress call from Michelangelo, it appears Bishop was ready act before we could. They are perusing his location. But something is wrong; Bishop does not let his resources go—he uses them to get more—most likely an attack to get all four of the turtles. That is why my men are following behind, carefully. And that is also why I am here."

"To recruit us?" Casey joked, crossing his arms. "Sorry, lady, don't think we're cut out for the Foot."

"You're not." Karai amused, looking back at the couple. "But your assets are. Ms. O'Neil, I believe you work in the same building as Goldburg, yes? I believe Bishop's attack is much greater, and dangerous than we believe. I will need you to give me access and bring me to his office."

"I-I've been trying for weeks," April admitted, "I mean, even if I could get in—he hasn't been around for just as long. What makes you think he kept any of his work with Bishop in there?"

"I believe your building is where he is creating his drug. Goldburg is hiding, a trail is always left behind. With your hacking, and my investigation skills, I hope to work together to put an end to a potentially disastrous event. I already spoke with Leonardo and he agreed, so you do not have to worry about this being a trap or however you believe."

"Oh, there's no way in hell I'm letting you take her with you alone." Casey defended, holding April's hand. "I'm going with you, to be sure she's safe."

"You don't trust me…" Karai said, sounding more to herself then out loud. Returning her gaze back at them, she offered a small smile. "Understandable. But we've delayed long enough, we must infiltrate now before the lose anymore time."

"Now?!" April echoed, "It's closed-! How do—oh, you plan on breaking in don't you."

"With your access, I hoped it wouldn't be so. But, we have no time for this. We must move. Now."

April looked over to Casey, who looked just as uneasy as she did. If this was any bigger than either of them think, and it sounded like Leo gave his word—Anything is better than doing nothing. I just hope we can trust her long enough to get through this…

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