It's taken me a while to get back to work on this project. Sorry for the rather long, and unintentional hiatus. I hope that you guys will forgive me for that. I have officially learned that handling six ongoing stories at once is too much. Now that I've narrowed it down to four, I'm going to try and do better.

I hope to get this done before I go back to school, but I'm gonna be real busy these next two weeks. After that I have a free week where I hope to get a little work done and then it's time to go back to school. Anyway, if it isn't done before I get back to school, I intend to complete it not long after. This story was never intended to be particularly long.

So, yeah. Hope you enjoy! I apologize again for the long wait!

Ch. 4-Failure is Not Tolerated

The Stockmanfly sat in his lab at Shredder's headquarters, performing some intricate tests on the venom derivative he'd created. About an hour ago he had injected a rat with the poison. Said rat was now dead, but…there were still tiny blips ghosting across his life monitors. The more Baxter examined it, the more he began to suspect that the rat wasn't actually dead, rather, only seemingly so. Using the poison as a base, Baxter managed to undo what he had done and created an anti-venom. Curious, the half-man-half-fly injected the anti-venom into his test subject and watched in fascination as all signs of life disappeared for a few moments before returning full force. Within an hour of injection, the test subject was once again alive and well.

But that meant…if the turtles somehow came up with the same anti-venom…they'd be able to revive their supposedly dead brother! Slowly, the fly buzzed his way to the throne room.

"Mazzzter Shredder."

"What do you want, Stockman?" The walking can-opener growled.

"I have found out something interesting about the death serum I created. The first injection does not really kill the victim, but induces a death-like state. If given anti-venom within three days of being poisoned, life can be restored."

"WHAT?!" The Shredder yelled, enraged. "Then the turtle is not actually dead."

"Not yet sir. I'm afraid Raphael is merely in a state of suspended animation."

"STOCKMAN!"

The lair was dark. A lone turtle, his white eyes narrowed with focus, crept silently down the hall, carefully glancing about to make sure the coast was clear. With every ounce of ninja stealth his father had ingrained in him, he made it to the little pool of water that led out into the sewers. He glanced back over his shoulder at the hallway and the home he had known for so long.

"I'm sorry Father," he whispered, "but I will avenge my brother."

He lowered himself into the water and swam away. On the other side, he stretched to his full height and pressed warily against the tunnel wall, making sure the coast was clear.

"Did you really think it would be that easy?"

He froze mid-step. Turning around was pointless. He knew what he would find. Being caught in the act was always disappointing, especially for a trained ninja. To be fair, though, Donnie was a ninja, too.

"Go home," he ordered.

"No."

Leo sighed. His head dropped to his chest. If there was one thing they all had in common, it was stubbornness.

"No way you're going without us."

That made Leo turn around. His ire fell on Donatello. "You brought Mikey?! Donnie—"

"It isn't Donnie's fault, bro. I got him."

Leo's muscles tensed and his fists tightened. "You two: stay here. I'm going alone."

"And what will that accomplish? Put you in a coma for three months like last time. How is that going to help anybody?" Don's hands were quaking.

"I'm going to avenge my brother."

Mikey's face softened. "Leo, you know what Sensei says about revenge."

Leo turned his back on them. "Then call it justice."

"Only if we ensure propriety."

Leo shook his head. "No. I won't allow you to come."

"Then we'll follow of our own volition." Don stated, determinately.

"No, you won't." Leo growled.

"You will if you don't want Master Splinter to find out."

"That's blackmail."

"Of course." Mikey smiled.

Leo's shoulders loosened. He stared reluctantly back at his two younger siblings. "I already lost one little brother—"

Mikey and Donnie looked at each other and nodded. Mikey stepped forward and put a hand on Leo's shoulder. His smile was gone. Leo marveled at how mature the youngest seemed.

"And we already lost one of our big brothers." Mikey said, sadly.

Don frowned. "Did it ever occur to you that we're just as afraid of losing you, Fearless?"

The nickname boomed through the tunnels, leaving silence in its wake.

"Donnie, don't—"

"It was never meant to be an insult, Leo. Raph might have made it seem that way, but it wasn't. I think he was trying to remind you that you don't always have to be. You aren't fearless. You don't need to pretend in order to convince us."

"No," Leo sighed. His hands fell to his sides, "but you aren't the ones who need convincing."

"Raph knew, didn't he, Leo?"

His blue eyes watering, Leo turned away. Mikey wrapped in a backwards hug, as Don continued.

"Your worst enemy isn't Shredder, or the Triceratons, or the Kraang, or any of them. It's you."

"And?" Leo asked, stoically.

"And now I'm beginning to wonder whether your fights with Raph were really fights at all." Don waited for a response, but got none, so he went on. "I've been observing your behavior, Leo. I think you and Raph were much more similar than you appeared to be. All of those fights you had, all those conflicts that started over the smallest things, I think those gave you the emotional outlet you needed to effectively lead this team. Now that Raph is gone, I think Mikey would agree with me in saying that you've been…growing increasingly aggressive and emotionally unstable."

"My brother was murdered. Raph died because I started that fight, Donnie! He's dead because—"

"You know as well as Mikey and I do that Raph had been pushing at our patience all week. And if it's your fault for fighting with him, then I think we can all agree that Mikey and I are just as guilty as you are. The last time we saw him we all said things. I know we all regret them, Leo."

"I wish I could have hugged him. I-I wish I could have said goodbye."

Donnie finally joined Michelangelo and wrapped his arms around his brothers. He pressed his face against their shoulders to hide his tears.

"We all do, big bro. We all do." Mikey choked out, a few tears running down his cheeks.

Leo straightened. The whites of his eyes were red from lack of sleep, his muscles ached and his chest was heavy, but he wouldn't let anything hold him back. "We can't allow our Father to die for us."

Mikey and Don peeled out of the hug and nodded solemnly.

"We're with you all the way, big brother."

Leo turned his back to them. His hand reached subtly down to his belt.

"Promise me one thing," Leo whispered, looking back over his shoulder at his younger siblings.

The purple and orange-masked turtles looked briefly at each other, turned back to Leo, and nodded.

"Forgive me," Leo said.

Before they could ask what he meant, a smoke bomb burst at their feet.

"Leo—d-don't—"

A hacking cough chopped the end off the sentence and Donnie fell to his knees.

Mikey coughed just as loudly. "D-Don," he coughed, "What—this stuff?" at the end of the question, the youngest turtle collapsed and his eyes closed.

Donnie, too, collapsed and rolled onto his carapace. He coughed again, his eyes watering a little. As they started to droop, the answer flashed through his mind: knockout gas.

"You know that we cannot defeat the Shredder. This mission is madness, Slash!"

"If you won't go in with me, I'll do it alone." Slash said. He glared at his second-in-command. "Maybe you're happy letting Raphael's death go unanswered, but I won't just stand by and let Shredder get away with murder."

"What do you expect to gain, my friend? Killing Shredder will not bring back Raphael. And we are not powerful enough to face the entire Foot army on our own."

Slash closed his eyes.

Leatherhead went on, "I know it is not my place to speak of what Raphael was like. I am well aware that you were closer to him than anyone else, but I believe I am right in saying that what Raphael valued most was the safety and welfare of his brothers."

"So?"

"If you go charging into Shredder's lair and get defeated, imagine the effect it could have on the turtles. Shredder could use you to get to them. Your capture would put us all in more danger. I don't think Raphael would be very pleased by that."

Slash closed his eyes and two tiny tears raced down his cheeks. He wiped them away.

"You're right," he finally conceded. "But I have to do something."

Leatherhead watched his leader pace down the length of their lair.

Slash turned and paced back up repeatedly saying, "I have to do something."

"We can."

All eyes rose to the mutant standing in the doorway.

"We can destroy the rest of that poison and any research on it to make sure this never happens again," said Doctor Rockwell.

Slash's fists tightened. His eyes slid questioningly over to Leatherhead.

The alligator mutant's mouth closed and he thought about it. Staring at Slash's face, Leatherhead's mind wandered. Slash hadn't slept in days and when he did, Leatherhead knew his mind was plagued by the memory of what happened. Sometimes the turtle even woke up with tears on his cheeks, but Leatherhead and the other Mighty Mutanimals knew better than to mention them or Raphael. Leatherhead wasn't in his friend's position, but he could only imagine how much pain and guilt Slash felt. If such a fate had befallen Michelangelo, Leatherhead doubted that even his friends would be able to stop him. That thought settled any doubts in Leatherhead's mind. Something had to be done.

Leatherhead nodded his consent.

Relief washed over Slash and he sent his second-in-command a grateful nod before he turned back to Rockwell.

The monkey mutant crossed his legs and made himself comfortable.

"Recommendations?" Slash asked.

"On our previous visits to Foot Headquarters have been mostly focused on the central and western sections of the building," said Rockwell. "It is my belief that the research facilities are located somewhere along the eastern portions."

"I say we avoid the throne room," Leatherhead said. He scraped his tail against the floor.

Rockwell's hand flew up to the sides of his head and he groaned. "How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?!"

Slash grinned a little. "Leave 'im alone, Rock. It's an instinctive indication of annoyance."

Rockwell sighed and shook it off.

"Is there any to get in the east side of the building without going through the main entrance?" Slash asked, dutifully getting them back on track. He and Leatherhead stared expectantly at Rockwell.

Rockwell crossed his arms over his chest. "Do I look like a member of the Foot Clan to you? Why don't you go tie one up and ask him?"

The black-masked turtle smiled. "Good idea. I could use a little exercise."

Leatherhead was pleased to see Slash back in good spirits, but before the turtle did anything rash…

"Slash, perhaps we should contact the turtles first. They might join—"

"No. Not a word to the turtles from any of you. We aren't bringing them into this. We keep the plan to ourselves."

"Plan? You guys are planning without me?"

Feathers drifted down around them as their fourth member came flapping into the room. Pete did not look pleased.

"You guys did it again!" He whined. "I'm so vexed and miffed right now!"

Rockwell's eyebrows rose to the top of his forehead. "Vexed and miffed?" He echoed, incredulously.

Pigeon Pete went on, without pause. "You guys never let me in on the planning."

"Pete—" Slash put up his hands, trying to placate the pigeon. "It's just that your skills are more useful in other areas."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh—that's what you always say. I'm so not telling you guys what I overheard at Shredder's place."

"You went to Shredder's lair alone!"

Pete rolled his eyes. "C'mon, it's not like anyone saw me. Nobody notices pigeons." He scratched the back of his head. "Besides, I wasn't really planning to go there. I was looking for bread, but then I saw some of my pigeon buddies flying away from the old church and I thought I'd check it out."

Rockwell raised an eyebrow. "In case they had bread?" He asked.

Pigeon Pete crossed his arms and shook his head. "No!"

Slash, Leatherhead, and Rockwell just stared flatly at him.

"Fine, I won't tell you."

Slash's eyes narrowed.

"Okay, okay," Pete gave up. "Shredder was shouting at that bug guy who tried to eat me that one time."

"Stockmanfly?" Leatherhead asked.

Pete nodded. "Yeah, that guy. Anyway, he said that Raphael was in a state of 'suspenseful animation' or something like that."

The other Mutanimals looked at each other.

"You mean 'suspended animation'?" Rockwell asked. His eyebrows furrowed. "Why would he say that?"

"Why not?" Leatherhead jumped in.

Slash understood. "Suspended animation is like—"

"—the temporary cessation of most vital bodily functions," Rockwell supplied. He floated over to the computer and started typing at lightning speed.

"But…" Slash's voice dropped off. A flicker of hope rose up from his heart, but his head refused to accept it. "Doesn't that mean—"

Rockwell ignored his leader and asked Pete, "And how did Shredder react to this information?"

"Oh, he was mad. He yelled so loud that I fell off the window ledge," Pete said.

They all looked at each other.

"Rockwell, you really think they're might be a chance—"

"I need to examine the body."

Leatherhead closed his eyes. "Then we must get to the turtles."

"Let's hope we're not already too late," said Rockwell.

"What do you mean?" Slash asked.

"Don't you realize that you might not be the only one wanting revenge? Despite your reluctance to involve them in our plan, it's highly probable the turtles have already formulated one of their own."

As usual, Rockwell was right. They had to reach the turtles before—

Raphael would never forgive himself if something happened to his brothers while he was out, Slash thought. His eyes narrowed. He turned to his team with a determined look they knew well.

"No time to waste. Mighty Mutanimals, let's move."

How was it? Review please!