Hello all! I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter due to the fact that my computer up and died:( Boo, luckily I was able to get everything from my hard drive so I didn't lose anything! Hooray!

Anyway, I would like to thank all of my lovely reviewers helfyrephoenix, dondena, Athese, Tori657, AdrenalizeMe, MissCookiiie, and SleepingSeeker.

Also a huge thank you to Amonraphoenix for Beta reading this chapter! If it wasn't for her, this fic totally wouldn't have happened!

And now, please enjoy...

Chapter 3

Leonardo's heart constricted with repressed terror as he and Donatello waited for the fire engines and emergency personnel to finally leave the area.

They had tracked Michelangelo's cell phone, which had been dropped a few blocks away from a warehouse that had lit up the night with an orange glow; the flames hungrily devouring the wooden structure and spewing out billowing black smoke into the darkened night sky.

The sickening, gut wrenching knot of worry in his stomach grew even heavier at the sight of the engulfed warehouse, and he knew deep down in the pit of his stomach that somehow Raphael and Michelangelo were involved in the early morning blaze. He just didn't know how involved they had been.

Spotting a few Purple Dragons lurking in the shadows, watching the fire with malicious fascination, Leonardo's heart sank into the pit of his stomach, which was already swimming with too much knotted dread to accommodate the added organ.

When confronted, he and Donatello did not even have to threaten or beat the answers from the two cornered Dragons about the whereabouts of their missing siblings. The information had spilled forth freely, offered in a taunting tone, coupled with snide remarks and vindictive pleasure as the Dragons revealed the horrific fate that had befallen their brothers.

Fighting against the overwhelming grief that threatened to consume him, Leonardo was determined not to give up hope that somehow Raphael and Michelangelo had managed to survive the explosion caused by a rocket that had been launched into the warehouse where Raphael and Michelangelo had taken cover.

The emergency crews finally left the area, the red and blue flashing lights disappearing into the early morning darkness, and he and Donatello began the frantic, adrenalin pumping task of scouring the smouldering ruins of the once giant warehouse.

Trudging through the charred, sodden debris looking for any signs of their missing siblings, Leonardo and Donatello both raised their voices, calling out for their brothers. Hampered by the darkness and the moist heat that surrounded them, they arduously moved beams, boards and rubble; their heaving breaths and grunts of exertion mingled with the calls of their brothers' names becoming the only sounds filling the night.

Leonardo hefted yet another heavy beam, throwing it to the side as he uncovered nothing but more of the burned out structure that had partially collapsed in on itself. The more debris he shifted without finding any sign of his missing brothers, the more his heart should have been filled with hope; the hope that his brothers weren't actually in the building when it had exploded and burned, but for some reason, this particular emotion eluded him.

The feeling of wrongness -of dread- sat like a heavy ball of lead within his gut and did not dissipate; no matter how many heavy pieces of scorched and charred wood he moved that only revealed more scorched, and charred wood and concrete beneath.

Looking over his shoulder, he checked to see Donatello's progress. Part of the structure was still standing and after determining that Raphael and Michelangelo could not have gotten very far before the rocket had struck, they concentrated their efforts on the section of the building closest to the door.

Moving another charred and broken beam, he threw it out of the way. Pulling a few more broken hunks of wood from at his feet, he still found nothing. Shoulders slumping in defeat, he straightened and looked towards Donatello, his brother wearing the same cloak of defeat around his shoulders as he did.

Slowly clambering over charred and ruined beams, he slowly made his way to where his brother stood.

Donatello glanced up at him and then away, his eyes searching the carnage, calculating, compiling and sifting through the information he was collecting.

"Is it..." Leonardo began, his voice hoarse from shouting his brother's names in the vain hope that they would answer. "It is possible that...that there's…nothing left of them?" he asked, voice shaking as his throat tightened in fear at the grim, horrifying answer.

Donatello closed his eyes before giving a quick nod. "It...it's possible that the force of the blast coupled with the intense heat..." Donatello's voice caught in his throat and he cleared it before continuing. "But...there sh-should be some re...remains left," Donatello managed to choke out as he took another deep, steadying breath and tried to push his grief aside and look at the situation logically.

Leonardo, blinking back the tears that filled his eyes at his brother's words, cleared his throat and nodded.

"But we've found no evidence of this," Donatello observed, his voice gaining in strength as he wiped away a few tears that hung upon the edges of his eyes. "There is nothing to suggest that either Mikey or Raph were caught in the blast," he stated firmly.

Leonardo nodded again in understanding. Donatello was holding onto this faint hope, and Leonardo could do no different. His brother was right. They hadn't found any evidence of their brothers and that was a good thing.

Donatello scanned the wreckage and negotiated his way over to a promising pile of debris and began pawing through it, his muscles straining as he tried to move a particularly heavy structural beam.

Moving quickly to help his overburdened brother, they hefted the beam together, revealing yet another layer of charred, broken and shattered wood remains burned beyond recognition.

Determination filling him, Leonardo helped Donatello clear more and more of the wood away, because the debris seemed to go below the layer that should have been the ground level of the warehouse.

Sharing a look with Donatello, renewed hope flared within them as they pulled away a shattered piece of plywood, revealing a small hole about the size of his fist in the floor beneath their feet.

"There's something under here!" Donatello shouted, able to shine his light into the hole, but unable to see anything in the feeble beam of the flashlight produced in the inky blackness of the hole below them.

Pulling away more of the heavy debris, a few twisted steel beams wedge in the slowly growing hole, making it difficult to clear a true space, Donatello again shined the light downwards.

Leonardo's heart leapt into his throat as the beam from the flashlight caught Michelangelo's arm. Hope flared in him and he and Donatello rapidly pulled away more and more of the rubble, exposing a hole wide enough that they were able to see into the entirety of the cavity their brothers had fallen it into.

There lay Raphael, slumped against a brick wall, his arm thrown protectively over Michelangelo who was curled into his older brother's chest. At first glance it looked only as if his two brothers were sleeping peacefully together, awaiting rescue, but then Leonardo noticed the blood, and the fact that when the light hit upon his brothers' faces, they did not move.

"Mikey! Raph!" Donatello shouted, and Leonardo had no doubt that everything that Leonardo had just observed, Donatello had noticed as well.

Donatello's worried call did not produce any movement or acknowledgement from either of their siblings, and Leonardo felt a rush of terrified adrenalin fill him.

"We need to get them out of there," Donatello insisted quickly, but Leonardo was already moving, trying to shift more of the ruined warehouse debris and make a hole big enough for them to pass through to reach their brothers.

"Donny?" Leonardo asked in a shaky voice, as together they pulled a large beam of steel from the hole.

"I don't know," he answered briskly, his mind obviously calculating certain variables and odds, and coming to a conclusion that Leonardo probably didn't want to know about.

Finishing the task in a heavy, grim silence, Leonardo gave into his fear and blinking back tears that suddenly stung his eyes, asked miserably, "W-what if we're too late?"

"They are no doubt suffering from oxygen deprivation, which is the most likely reason they are unresponsive and unconscious," Donatello offered, his voice trying to sound factual and brisk, but Leonardo could detect the hint of worry and fear that infused his words anyway, because the other option besides unconscious was of course…dead.

Moving as quickly as they were able, Leonardo could only pray that they hadn't been too late; that they hadn't just stood outside watching the fire burn and leaving their brothers to die in a tiny tomb, slowly being deprived of their life giving oxygen.

Leonardo backed away from the hole they had created and Donatello quickly secured a rope to a metal beam before lowering himself down first, Leonardo following right on his younger genius brother's heels.

The chamber they found themselves in was narrow, cramped and small. The ceiling was perhaps twelve feet above their heads, not an easy distance, but not an impossible one either, but it was obviously that their two brothers had been unable to do anything to escape as the hole above their heads had been blocked and there appeared to be no other way out.

Bracing himself, Leonardo quickly looked at his two younger siblings, Donatello kneeling in front of them, his shaking fingers digging into Michelangelo's neck, and attempting to find a pulse.

Racing to his brothers' side, Donatello exclaimed, "He's alive!" his voice filled with cautious relief. "But just barely. We need to get him out of here and get him on oxygen as soon as possible!"

Leonardo reached for Michelangelo, pulling him off of Raphael's chest with Donatello's help and hefting his baby brother into his arms.

Donatello hurriedly turned his attention to Raphael, murmuring, "Come on, Raphie," as he dug his fingers further into Raphael's throat, desperately searching for a pulse.

Donatello's shoulders slumped, his head bowing forward as he took in a shuddering breath, gathering himself up to give him the news that Leonardo already knew in his heart to be devastating.

Donatello's pale face finally turned to his and he shook his head, a movement Leonardo was barely able to discern through the tears of grief that suddenly filled his eyes. Quickly blinking away the dampness, Leonardo felt determination fill him. "Donny, you take Mikey, I'll try to get Raph breathing-"

"Leo..." Donatello interrupted "He's gone," he stated with a grim finality that seared Leonardo's very soul and shattered it.

"No," Leonardo bit out, ignoring the evidence all around him: the pool of blood, the lack of a pulse and the blue tinge to Raphael's skin. He still stubbornly shook his head back and forth in denial. "He's not gone. We can still save him, it's not too late."

Abruptly standing, Donatello, with tears streaming down his face and anger blazing in his eyes, furiously roared at Leonardo, "HE"S GONE!" Donatello choked on these words as his voice cracked in pain and grief. "And...and if we don't get Mikey out of here, we'll lose him too." Wiping away his tears with the back of his hand Donatello took Michelangelo gently from Leonardo's arms and settled him over shoulders in a fireman's carry.

Carefully, Donatello climbed the rope, pulling himself and Michelangelo from the small chamber and into the ruined, burned out warehouse above them.

Once Michelangelo had safely been lifted out and deposited on the rubble strewn floor, Leonardo turned his attention back to Raphael, and he found that he was barely able to remain standing.

He took a moment to compose himself because he wanted to clutch at Raphael's body and shake him violently, telling him that they were there and to come back to them, but he knew that this plea would be far too late for his brother to acknowledge or respond to.

Leonardo forced his feet to approach his brother's corpse. Kneeling down, he slowly picked up his brother's bloodstained sai, and slipped it through his belt before sliding his hands beneath his brother's limp arms and pulling him up from the floor -sticky with too much drying blood- and hefting Raphael's body over his shoulders.

Knowing he needed to move quickly, but feeling like he was wading through quicksand, Leonardo forced his sluggish appendages to complete the task of removing their brother's body from what could have become his tomb.

Exiting the chamber, Leonardo pulled himself up and into the night, the air filled with the overpowering scent of smoke and small flakes of white ash that drifted lazily upon the light wind.

Silently, Donatello quickly, but gently, scooped Michelangelo up into his arms, making steady progress across the mangled remains of the warehouse floor towards the parked van.

Leonardo, reverently performing the same task with Raphael, swiftly followed his genius brother to the van. Donatello, gently placed Michelangelo upon the floor of the van, Leonardo doing the same with Raphael as Donatello clambered into the back, checking Michelangelo for other injuries and hastily assessing their baby brother's vitals.

Closing the door to the back of the van, Leonardo ran to the driver's side door, throwing it open and leaping inside, starting up the engine and peeling off in to the night with a screech of tires, and the strong scent of burning rubber that mixed in with the strong scent of burnt, damp wood.

His heart was heavy and his cold cheeks were damp; stained with the silent tears that had streamed unheeded down his face.

Leonardo looked over as Donatello entered Michelangelo's bedroom. They had placed their baby brother in his bed, hoping that the familiarity of the space would somehow comfort their still unconscious brother whose only injuries appeared to be carbon monoxide poisoning, a sprained ankle, and a bump on the head.

Of course, this diagnosis could have been completely different if they had arrived but a few scant minutes later, and they would instead be preparing to bury two brothers instead of one.

It had been a few hours since they had pulled their brothers from the warehouse and Leonardo hadn't left their baby brother's side. If he were honest with himself, the reason for this was two-fold. Firstly, he did not want to leave Michelangelo's bedside in the eventuality that his brother actually woke up. He wanted to be present for this, so that he could reassure Michelangelo that he was safe and at home.

Secondly, if he stayed within the confines of Michelangelo's bedroom, then he wouldn't have to focus upon the fact that two brothers had been caught up within the blast of the warehouse, but there was only one he knew would open his eyes again.

They had lost their red masked brother that night, and Leonardo couldn't deal with it…not now. He knew he needed to be strong for his remaining brothers, but he found that at the moment, he was not able to gather the strength required to do this task; which felt monumental and completely beyond his abilities.

And cowardly though it was, Leonardo had allowed Donatello to deal with their brother's corpse, because Donatello had asked him to look after Michelangelo, and Leonardo hadn't protested this arrangement; even though he should have.

Donatello quietly approached the bed and Leonardo quickly stood from the chair he had spent the last few hours sitting in. Donatello ignored the proffered seat, even though it looked as if he was about to collapse.

Dark circles had appeared beneath Donatello's eyes and he looked to have aged several years within the last few hours. Numbly, Leonardo wondered if he too looked as bad as Donatello did, and concluded that he probably did.

Donatello bent over Michelangelo and adjusted the oxygen mask that had been placed over their brother's face, methodically checked their baby brother's vitals. Seemingly satisfied that their brother was stable and comfortable, Donatello motioned with his head towards the doorway.

Leonardo wanted to protest leaving Michelangelo's side, in case he woke up, but the grim set of Donatello's features, as well as the grief-stricken exhaustion that hovered within his younger brother's eyes forced him to gather whatever strength of will he still possessed, and followed Donatello into the hall.

Donatello however did not stop just outside the doorway and instead proceeded down the hall towards the stairs that would take them down to the main floor. Stopping, Leonardo looked over his shoulder at Michelangelo's bedroom in silent protest. Donatello, sensing this movement offered up the assurance that 'Mikey will be fine for a few minutes.'

Having no choice but to accept Donatello's reassuring words, Leonardo followed his younger brother down the stairs, through the lair, and into his lab, where Leonardo knew that Raphael's body lay.

Taking a few deep breaths and sternly telling himself that he needed to take responsibility -to be strong, and to stop acting like a coward- Leonardo walked to the cot where Donatello stood, silent and motionless, like their brother's body hidden from view by a crisp white linen sheet.

Feeling as if he was living his worst nightmare which had leapt from his mind and become horrifically tangibly real, Leonardo looked at Donatello's forbidding features.

Without saying anything Donatello walked to the side of the cot opposite of where Leonardo stood, and without any warning, threw the sheet back from Raphael's peaceful face.

Seeing Raphael lying like that upon the table nearly broke him. His legs nearly gave way as a tidal wave of grief and regret washed over him. A thousand 'if only's' burned though his mind as he tried to come to grips with the fact that as his brother lay dying in a dark hole under a burning warehouse, he had been fixing a boiler, and when he had gotten home, he had sat, silently fuming at Raphael for leaving the lair, and thinking of the lecture he would give to him.

And now all he could do was regret that his final words to his hot-headed sibling, had been ones of anger and disappointment.

He didn't know why his two brothers had been out last night, or how they had ended up in the warehouse district, and Leonardo found that the answer did not really matter, because the stark reality of the situation lay before him, motionless, and unresponsive upon a cot.

"There's something I wanted to show you," Donatello offered softly, his words sounding like nails upon a chalkboard as they ripped through the oppressive silence that had fallen over them. "Raph..." Donatello's voice cracked as Leonardo watched his brother valiantly try to hold it together. His brother's lip quivered and his eyes brightened with tears he rapidly blinked back. Donatello licked his dry lips and attempted to speak again. "Raph had extensive injuries."

"The blood…" Leonardo whispered softly.

Donatello continued as if he had not spoken, as if he needed to get out what he needed to say in one go, or else he would be unable to do it at all. "A broken femur, a deep laceration to his side, three broken ribs, a broken humorous, and a shattered radius and ulna. I think he managed to shield Mikey from much of the blast and took the entire impact of their fall."

Leonardo blinked back the moisture that blurred his vision, his throat closing up on him so that he was unable to speak. But Donatello didn't seem to be waiting for him to say anything because he continued to talk.

"His wounds were, as I said, extensive and very serious, but with proper medical attention…they were survivable."

Leonardo's eyes widened in confusion as his brain tried to understand what it was that Donatello was trying to tell him.

That was when Donatello reached over and moved the white sheet away, exposing only Raphael's arms.

Deep molted bruising covered his brother's flesh, his one arm swollen and slightly misshapen. But this was not what arrested his attention. Instead, two, long, deep vertical cuts marred each arm in an identical way.

There could be no mistaking the purpose or the deliberateness of the cuts, or the way in which they had been inflicted.

Eyes flying to Donatello, he looked for confirmation of what he suspected, but Donatello didn't say anything, only pulling the sheet and covering Raphael's arms back up.

Unable to take the tense silence anymore, Leonardo opened his mouth, his voice a croak of disbelief and horror. "Donny, did Raph…did he…?" he wanted to get the words out, to confirm the awful truth, but he couldn't, his voice choking on the sob of horror that rose unbidden in his throat and escaped past his lips.

Shaking his head from side to side Leonardo begged Donatello to tell him some truth, other than the one that involved Raphael taking his own life, and bleeding to death propped up against a brick wall, lying upon a cold hard cement floor in the dark.

"Why?" The word was clamouring around in his head, screaming at him over and over again, but this word that sounded so loud in his head only came out as a pitiful strangled whisper of inquiry.

"W-we found Mikey b-barely alive…" was all the answer Donatello seemed to be able to give before he broke and leaned over burying his face into Raphael's exposed neck.

Great, heaving sobs of grief were torn from Donatello's mouth, and this display shattered whatever strength of will Leonardo had cobbled together that had allowed him remain standing.

Stumbling around the cot, Leonardo pulled Donatello from Raphael's corpse and turned his brother around, wrapping him in his arms and slowly sinking to the ground where he was unable to contain his own grief any longer, and let go, burying his beak into Donatello's shoulder and sobbing out his wretchedness as Donatello continued to weep miserably.

There upon the floor and wrapped in each other's arms, cloaked in an anguish that seemed insurmountable, Leonardo had a moment of clarity, of complete and total understanding, which only served to deepen his grief further; if this were even possible.

Eventually pulling away from each other, tears were hastily wiped away and Donatello mumbled that he had should go and check on Michelangelo and Leonardo gave an understanding nod. Helping each other off the ground, Leonardo watched Donatello leave his lab.

Turning his attention back to Raphael's motionless body, he brushed his fingertips gently across the surface of his dead brother's cold cheek.

Leonardo wasn't sure if his hot-headed brother believed himself to be dying or not, but it was obvious that he had known that they were running out of oxygen, and had decided that he was going to give their baby brother the best chance of survival…by taking his own life.

This thought alone brought another wave of tears to sting his eyes and trickle down his cheeks. Leaning over he did as Donatello had done, burying his beak in Raphael's shoulder and sobbing out his heart wrenching grief, coupled with deep thankfulness for the selfless act of heroism Raphael had performed.

Dragging himself away, Leonardo placed his forehead against his brother's. "You did good, Raph, you did good. I love you, little brother. Thank you." Laying a kiss upon his brother's forehead, he reluctantly stepped away, taking one last look at Raphael's face before pulling the sheet up and over his brother's immobile features.

A few hours later, faces composed into lines of worry coupled with hope, Michelangelo opened his eyes.

Their baby brother, before Donatello was even able to speak, sat up quickly, and launched himself into Donatello's arms.

"I knew you'd find us and save us!" Michelangelo wailed gratefully, and Leonardo swore that a tiny piece of his soul broke at his baby brother's thankful words. Donatello must have experienced the same thing, because his younger genius brother stiffened, before giving Michelangelo a tight hug before pulling away and fussing over him.

"How do you feel, Mikey?" Donatello asked, his voice full of concern.

"I'm okay. My head hurts a little, and my ankle throbs a bit, but other than that I'm okay."

"I'll see if I can get you something for the pain," Donatello offered and Michelangelo nodded as he wiped away the tears of relief and thankfulness that had made their way down his cheeks.

Leonardo smiled, but the smile felt as if it would shatter his face completely. His baby brother was alive, and for that he could not be more grateful, but they had lost a brother as well.

Michelangelo's eyes slid to Leonardo's and after a moment, he paled, eyes sliding to Donatello for confirmation of what he suspected. Eyes going wide in disbelief and terror, Michelangelo asked in a small voice, "W-where's Raph?"

Donatello swallowed, taking Michelangelo's hand in his own, but Michelangelo roughly pulled it away; anger and grief filling his eyes. Taking in a shuddering breath that ended with a sob, Michelangelo pulled himself together, staring at his hands which had fisted themselves into his blankets.

"H-he didn't make it...did he?" Michelangelo asked, his voice no more than a whisper as he roughly wiped away at a tear that trembled at the edge of his eye.

Donatello shared a devastated look with Leonardo, his gaze pleading.

Kneeling down beside where Donatello sat in the chair that was pulled up to the bed, Leonardo licked his dry lips, and swallowed roughly before attempting to speak. "Mikey-" he began softly, but Michelangelo waved his words away.

"He saved my life," Michelangelo stated bluntly and Leonardo's heart twisted at the guilt that he saw permeate his baby brother's grief-stricken eyes. "H-he was...he was talking like…like he knew he wasn't going to make it," Michelangelo murmured softly, his voice wavering and catching in his throat. "He was pretending like he was okay, but I knew he was hurt, worse than what he was admitting." Michelangelo waited, begging them with his eyes to tell him that Raphael was fine, and that he was just in his bedroom recovering, but they couldn't.

Leonardo had to look away for a minute from his baby brother's devastated hazel eyes, because if he didn't, he was going to break down, and he couldn't afford to do that anymore. He needed to be strong, he needed to support his shattered family and help them pick up the pieces as best as they could.

Forcing himself to look back at Michelangelo, Donatello caught his eye and he understood the message in his genius brother's gaze. Michelangelo could never know the true sacrifice that Raphael had made, because it would destroy him.

And so the lie was spun.

Raphael had died of his injuries; the bump on Michelangelo's head was the result of debris falling from the ceiling.

After breaking down into agonizing sobs of misery that ripped and tore at what remained of Leonardo's tattered heart and soul, Michelangelo accepted what they had told him had happened to their hot-headed brother.

Eventually, Michelangelo was able to relate the whole tale of how they had ended up in the warehouse and the words of comfort Raphael had shared with Michelangelo to keep their spirits up as they sat in the dark, hoping against hope to be rescued.

Michelangelo also told Leonardo why Raphael had purposefully shirked his duties that night and why Raphael constantly pushed Leonardo all the time.

Clutching his remaining brothers close, Leonardo listened to them weep, knowing that there was nothing he could do, or would be able to do to fill the void that had been left in all of their hearts at Raphael's death.

They buried Raphael next to their father at Casey's farm; his grave marked by a simple wooden marker that bore his name.

Their friends and family wept openly, talking about how brave, heroic and amazing Raphael had been, but only Leonardo and Donatello knew the true extent of Raphael's heroism, his bravery and his ultimate sacrifice.

Leonardo reached out, placing a red rose upon his brother's grave atop the multitude of white roses that lay upon it.

His brothers were quietly talking with April and Casey and he had wanted a few minutes alone at his brother's graveside.

A single tear slid down his cheek, which he quickly brushed away. It had only been a week, but in that week he had cried so many tears of sorrow, that he didn't think he had any more left, but apparently, there had been one more tear left.

Forcing a smile he looked upon brother's simple grave marker. "Thank you, Raphie," he said. "F-for everything."

He was thanking his brother for Michelangelo's life, but also, for himself; for Raphael having taken it upon himself, for making it his 'job' to remind Leonardo of who he was, and he swore on his brother's grave that he would never forget that again. "I love you."

The End

Thank you to everyone who read this fic, I hope you enjoyed it even though the ending was heart-rending and tragic...