A/N: sorry for the delay in updating this fiction. I have found it incredibly hard to get down on paper so to speak. Anyway, I enjoy the challenge and I hope you enjoy this chapter. I apologise for it's short length, but as ever I would be most grateful if you could review.

The stale scent of damp decaying earth filled his nostrils. A small groan escaped into the darkness as the dull pain in the back of his head came flooding back with the memories. He bit his lip as he lightly brushed the pad of his thumb over the cell phone keys. It trembled has he hesitated, to all intents and purposes this looked like a life line, tossed to him in his final moments of drowning. Or was it just another form of torture, another stab of cruelty before his existence was snuffed out. He had no way of knowing if the phone would work or if indeed it would have enough minutes to be of any use to him. Would it be enough to hear his brother's voices one last time, or would it be enough to save him?

Michelangelo threw himself heavily onto the old battered couch, he lay there for a few moments staring blankly towards the brick ceiling before sitting up again. Sighing softly he snatched up the remote control and began to idly change channels on the television set. He wasn't really watching anything, in fact he really didn't want to watch anything, he just had to do something to drown out the constant sounds of argument that seemed to follow his older brothers around like a lost puppy. The arguments had been increasing in frequency and violence ever since his brother had gone missing over three weeks ago.

Leonardo walked into the kitchen, the argument still hot on his heels as he began to fill a small tea kettle with water.

"I'm just saying. We could be doing more."

"Raph," Leonardo levelled, placing the kettle on the stove and lighting the gas, "We're doing all we can. We'll be no good to anyone if we run ourselves ragged."

"It's been three weeks already"

"I know." Leonardo said quietly

"Fuck sake!" Raphael slammed his fist down hard against the work surface causing the stacked crockery to rattle. "He could be seriously hurt somewhere. Or dead!"

Leonardo potently ignored his brother has he removed the kettle from the stove and started to make some tea.

The aching cold seeped through his skin freezing his blood, squeezing his bones. He dialled for the fourth time in as many seconds, once his panic numbed fingers had eventually obeyed, he had hung up twice before the call was even connected. This time he strained to listen.

The payphone in the corner shuddered into the life, rasping for attention. Michelangelo picked up the receiver, juggling it in his hands for a few seconds before he rested it in the crook of his neck. "Yep?" He murmured whilst he continued to absentmindedly flick through the channels.

A temporary wave a relief flooded through Donatello as his younger brother's voice filtered through the earpiece. Blinking hard as tears began to prick at the corners of his eyes, he opened his mouth only for the dry words to stick in his throat.

"Donnie? Donnie is that you bro?" Michelangelo gestured wildly at his brothers, beckoning them to join him at the phone.

"Mikey, it's me." Finally his voice came, thin and weak as he fought to keep it steady.

"Don!" Leonardo's voice bled through the creaking darkness. "Don are you okay? Are you hurt? You're okay?"

"I'm. I'm fine."

"Where are you, Don? Tell us where you are, just tell us and we'll come and get you."

A slight sliver of hope fluttered in Donatello's chest before the harsh realisation smothered it. He wasn't a hundred percent sure he knew where he was.

"I. I, I don't know." His voice felt as if it would crack and shatter into a thousand pieces as doubt began to claw itself deep within the edges of his mind.

"You, you don't know?" The concern in Leonardo's voice was so tangible he could almost reach out and touch it.

"Well, I know I am underground."

"Underground?"

"Underground, like the subway?" Michelangelo interrupted. "You're in the subway, right?"

"No," Donatello inhaled sharply, "Buried under the ground. Interred." He listened to the stunned silence as it hung in the air. "In a casket, in a cemetery somewhere in New York City."

" Buried. A cemetery?" Leonardo repeated not sure he had heard his brother right.

"Where? What cemetery?" Raphael's voice burst through.

"I'm not sure." He voice quavered as the absurdity of the situation stabbed it's way through his thoughts.

"Can you remember anything, street signs, landmarks that sort of thing." Leonardo motioned for a pen and piece of paper. "Think Donnie, try!"

Donatello held his breath and the closed his eyes, desperately sorting through the blackened shards of severed memory.

"I remember…"

He remembered that fateful night as clearly as if it were day. He had gone to the municipal dump to sort through the piled mounds of trash in hopes of finding a treasure or maybe two. Ones man's trash is another man's treasure It wasn't something he had done in a long while. Since his family had meet and befriended April and Casey he now had access to a wide range of commercially available electronics. Truth be known, after other events in their lives he had access to electronics and components not commercially available. Still old habits die hard.

Some times he just needed to get out, to get away. From the same four walls, from his sensei. From his brothers. To just, to just be himself free from the expectations of others, even if it was for a hour or two.

"Donnie?" The voice broke through the fog snapping him back to reality. Locked in the pressing swells of perverse flickered light. He furrowed his brow.

"I remember railings, tall black spear shaped railings, on top a low red or brownish brick wall."

Leonardo lent the pad of paper against the wall and scribbled furiously. "Railings, low wall. Red or brown." He paused, "anything else? Think."

"I remember," he faltered as he choked back a sob. Agonising images flashed behind his dancing eyelids. Raw stinging memories of being half dragged, half shoved through the grounds of the cemetery. "I remember monuments. A monument, a sphinx and some, some Egyptian style columns."

"Don," Leonardo said softly looking up from his writing, "who did this to you?"

He tried to still his shuddering breath. "It…" There was a soft click followed by a continuous dull tone. Donatello snapped the phone shut, plunging himself back into the boiling darkness. A small tear escaped and trickled coldly across the crest of his cheek.