Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 1987

Winds of Change

By Lucky_Ladybug

Notes: The characters are not mine and the story is! ThickerThanLove helped a great deal with working out plot details and thoughts. This was born from the thought of, "I wonder how everyone would handle this situation now that things are so much different than they were in the first story." And boy, did it turn into a heartbreaking experiment. It is part of my Exit the Fly verse. Baxter is human again and an ally of the Turtles. His brother Barney no longer works for Shredder.

The night was dark, cold. Filled with an eerie mist that hung low to the ground and obscured vision.

It was a cemetery scene. Tombstones of every shape and size stretched as far as the eye could see. Then, from out of the misty ground, a shadowy hand desperately broke the surface.

Splinter started, sitting up in bed as sleep faded and restored him to consciousness.

He frowned, deeply. The dream had been more than a little disturbing. He had never experienced anything like that before. It could be just a by-product of having overheard some of the horror film the Turtles had been watching earlier that evening, but part of him wasn't so sure. It could be a legitimate warning or premonition.

Of what, though? He certainly did not believe in zombies.

Perhaps . . . perhaps someone who had been buried alive?

A vastly troubling thought.

The hand had been a human's, that much he knew. It definitely hadn't belonged to any of the Turtles.

He would say nothing about it to the Turtles as of yet. It might mean nothing. But in case it meant something . . .

He threw back the covers. This required some meditation.

xxxx

"Ah, this is the life, isn't it?" Michelangelo exclaimed.

He and the other Turtles were at Vinnie's with Baxter on his lunch break. An extra-large pizza on the table before them was quickly being devoured.

Baxter was careful to only take the pieces with normal toppings. "It's certainly been quiet the last several days," he remarked. "It's more than a little welcome."

"I just wish we could have found The Rat King again," Raphael said in disgust. "That creep belongs in solitary confinement."

"Or like, a padded cell," Michelangelo said with his mouth full. "I don't think the dude's got all his marbles."

"And what was your first clue?" Raphael said dryly.

"We'll get another chance to catch The Rat King," Leonardo said. "For now let's just enjoy the serenity while it lasts."

Donatello looked to Baxter. "Are you coming over tonight to go at that mysterious power source again?"

"I am," Baxter said. "And I don't know why I didn't think of this before. Maybe we should have Vincent look at it. It's alien technology; maybe he would recognize it."

Raphael snorted. "Do you know how many alien cultures there are? I'm sure Vincent didn't meet all of them."

"No, but it's worth a try," Baxter defended.

"Yeah, like, unless you don't want Vincent in the Lair, Raphael," Michelangelo said.

Raphael sighed. "Okay, I'm still a little jumpy, especially now that he can move on his own, but yeah, I guess I'm alright with him being in the Lair."

"Only I'm guessing Barney would be coming too, which you're probably still not so alright with," Donatello said.

"Are you?" Raphael countered.

"Well . . . he was helpful about the portal," Donatello said. "And I noticed that when we left, he wasn't trying to memorize everything about the route to the Lair. I really don't think we have to worry about him selling us out."

"Of course you don't," Baxter insisted.

". . . I really don't worry about that, I guess," Raphael said. "I even really figure Barney's trustworthy in general. Probably. It's just that I have that pesky little hang-up about forgiving and forgetting all of his garbage."

"I know," Baxter said quietly. "But I still believe that someday you can get past that with him, just as you did with me."

"Yeah, maybe," Raphael said, somewhat abruptly. "We'll have to see. Anyway, yeah, if Barney and Vincent both want to come tonight, fine, whatever."

"We'll see," Baxter said, but from his tone of voice, he probably wasn't going to invite them.

"How are things with you and Barney?" Leonardo asked.

"Very well," Baxter smiled. "That is . . . we're certainly not confiding in each other about much of anything, but there's love. I'm so happy."

"And we are too, Dude," Michelangelo chirped. "You totally deserve this."

"I don't know about that, but I'm grateful for it regardless," Baxter said.

"What about that meeting with the guy who's interested in your Mousers?" Donatello asked.

"I've just signed a contract with him, actually," Baxter said. "I think I'm still partially waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me. It's so hard to believe that this time things will really work out."

"So, what's it going to take for you to believe in Santa Claus?" Raphael wisecracked.

"Maybe once I see that this company is actually using the Mousers and they seem to be working," Baxter said. "This time I carefully researched both the man and the company before making an agreement."

"Good deal," Michelangelo said in approval.

"Any word yet from the governor?" Leonardo wanted to know.

"Not yet," Baxter said. "I really don't have much hope for a pardon on the Mouser catastrophe, but it means so much to me that people have actually been writing to him about it. Especially that Barney did."

"Yeah, that's pretty something, alright," Raphael had to agree.

"I wonder what Shred-Head thinks of it," Michelangelo mused.

"He's probably still laughing about how 'pathetic' I am," Baxter said.

"We haven't heard from him since he oh so intelligently tried to kidnap Vincent," Raphael said dryly. "I wonder when he'll turn up again."

"Don't wonder, Dude, just enjoy this time without him!" Michelangelo advised.

"Works for me," Raphael shrugged.

xxxx

It was such a cold, misty scene in the cemetery that night. The fog only parted around one tombstone long enough for a hand clawing through the ground to be visible as it broke free. A gasp, a cry of terror, and a form frantically pushed through the widening hole. The moon shone down, catching the person's features for one brief moment. But that was enough to see the identity of the terrified party.

"Baxter!"

Michelangelo flew upright in bed, screaming his friend's name. His heart was pounding.

Instantly the other Turtles and Splinter gathered at his doorway. "What is wrong, Michelangelo?" Splinter frowned.

Michelangelo shook his head. "It was awful!" he choked out. "There was a cemetery and it was all foggy and then this person started clawing his way out of a grave. It was Baxter!"

The other Turtles rocked back, all clearly disturbed. Splinter's eyes filled with something much deeper.

"Are you sure, Michelangelo?" he demanded.

"Yeah, Sensei!" Michelangelo pushed back the covers and started to get up. "Maybe I should call Baxter and make sure he's okay. . . ."

"It's three o'clock in the morning!" Raphael exclaimed. "Baxter's asleep! He won't be okay if you wake him up!"

Leonardo looked to Splinter, having heard the particular tone in his voice. "What is it, Master Splinter?" he asked in concern.

Splinter sighed heavily. "The previous night, I had much the same dream. The only difference was that I did not see the identity of the person trying so desperately to extricate himself from the grave."

Michelangelo bolted out of bed. "Really, Sensei?! You dreamed this too?!" He looked to the other Turtles. "Then it's gotta mean something, doesn't it?! It's not just a random creepy nightmare!"

"I'll admit that for both of you to have it, it seems like it couldn't just be a coincidence," Leonardo said. "Master Splinter didn't say anything about the dream, so you couldn't have been influenced into having it. . . ."

"But what the heck could it mean?!" Raphael burst out. "Why don't dreams ever say what they mean instead of being all 'doom and gloom' and creepy-weird as heck?!"

"Dreams are symbolic, more often than not," Donatello said.

"So, like, what does that mean?" Michelangelo frowned. "That Baxter really isn't going to be in a grave, but showing him like that is supposed to point us to what really is going to happen to him?"

"Yes," said Donatello. "But what that something is, I have no idea."

"There are times when dreams do show the outright truth instead of relying on symbolism," Splinter said. "Michelangelo's dreams of Mondo Gecko are good examples. And his dreams of the collapse of the Dansing Building were, for the most part, true to what actually happened."

"Well, I know I'm not going to find it easy to go back to sleep now," Raphael remarked.

"You're not?!" Michelangelo shot back. "Dude, I'm not gonna be able to sleep any more at all!"

"Then come with me, Michelangelo, and we will meditate on the meaning of our dreams," Splinter implored.

"Does that ever really help?" Michelangelo frowned. "I've never figured out one of my dreams yet by meditating."

"Sometimes it helps and sometimes it does not," Splinter said. "We must try to clear our minds and focus."

"Well, okay, but I bet it won't work," Michelangelo said.

The other Turtles lingered behind, uncomfortably looking at each other.

"I don't like this," Leonardo frowned.

"If it wasn't for Master Splinter having the dream too, I'd say that Michelangelo is just reacting to all the situations we've been in and out of lately," Raphael said.

Donatello nodded. "That does make a difference. But there's nothing we can do about it tonight. Come on, guys, let's try to go back to sleep."

The three Turtles trudged back to their individual sleeping quarters. The very idea of sleep sounded laughable now. But eventually, exhausted and still hoping to believe the dreams were not really predictions of the future, they each fell back to sleep.

xxxx

The following afternoon, Baxter was with Barney and Vincent at the university. Barney had not started his teaching job yet, but he was looking through the student files on everyone who would be in the class. Vincent took each file when Barney had finished and copied the contents to memory.

"Isn't it the middle of the semester?" Baxter asked. "When I stopped to think about it, I was surprised there was a position open right now."

"My predecessor gave notice and quit," Barney replied. "That's probably part of why they were willing to take a chance on me, even with my police record-I'm available, I know the subject matter, and I've taught before."

"That seems strange, for him to quit so abruptly," Baxter remarked.

"He ran off to Bermuda to get married," Barney snorted, as if that was the most preposterous reason in the world to leave a job. He handed the last file to Vincent. "That's it."

Vincent copied the contents and set the folder on the stack. "And we're ready to go," he said.

"When do you start?" Baxter wondered.

"Next week." Barney got up and flipped off the lights as they headed out. Vincent carried the files.

"So what do you actually tell people about Vincent?" Baxter wondered. "I mean, do you actually say he's an alien computer?"

"I say he's my assistant," Barney grunted. "Vincent can add whatever else he feels like."

"I say Barney's my friend," Vincent said. "I don't offer anything about my origins. I think that would be better, at least for now."

"You're probably right," Baxter nodded.

"Oh, Dr. Stockman?"

Everyone turned at the sound of a new voice. A plump, scholarly man with tan hair was coming over to them. He paused, looking momentarily baffled at the sight of the twins. But then, determining which was the Dr. Stockman he meant, he turned to Barney.

"My boss Mr. Dalton, my brother Baxter," Barney said with a gesture.

"Yes." Mr. Dalton sounded distracted. "Dr. Stockman, your . . . computer's . . . err . . . dress code . . . leaves something to be desired."

"You can talk directly to me," Vincent said in annoyance. "I understand."

"Of . . . of course." Mr. Dalton looked to Vincent, clearly uncomfortable. "You'll have to button your shirt on campus. Otherwise, some of the students may start copying you."

Vincent handed the files to Baxter and swiftly closed his shirt. "There. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Vincent is my assistant, as I explained to your assistant," Barney said. "He's a free agent, not my computer. He chooses to stay with me."

"Yes, well, you certainly have an . . . interesting arrangement." Mr. Dalton stepped back. "It was good to meet you, Dr. Stockman." He nodded absently in Baxter's direction and continued down the hall.

Baxter gawked after him. "I thought you said everyone was taken with Vincent."

"His assistant was much more amiable," Barney said. "But Dalton appreciates Vincent from a scientific standpoint. He just isn't sure how to talk to him. And he seems to have a lot on his mind right now. Later on, he'll probably call you and apologize for being so abrupt and vague."

"Well," Vincent said as they started to walk again, "at least now you surely see that it's actually practical for me to wear clothes. I don't think I would have been allowed not to, even if it isn't necessary."

Barney grunted. "You're probably right. I can just see Dalton worrying about some imbecile deciding to show up to class completely naked and saying that you don't wear clothes as his excuse."

Baxter chuckled.

They dropped off the files and headed to Barney's car. On the way, Vincent cast a wary look at a balding little man with a protruding belly who went into another building. "The only other sticky thing about this job is that the man who invented the original solid energy generator also works on campus," he said.

Baxter winced. "Have you personally encountered him?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Barney unlocked the Cadillac and everyone got in. "He accused me of stealing his idea, naturally. I told him I was using my own process and there was no self-destruct mechanism with mine. There's nothing he can legally do, especially since the only thing I do with my invention is let Vincent have it. I have no intention of trying to sell my process, at least at this point." He pulled out of the parking space and headed off campus.

"Do you think you ever will?" Baxter wondered.

"It could be misused quite easily," Barney grunted. "In the past I might not have cared, but now I'm thinking that if misused, it could put Vincent in a great deal of danger. Other computers could get up and walk around, including enemies that wouldn't have any qualms about killing him . . . particularly if they're not alive like he is."

"That's a horrifying thought," Baxter shuddered.

"So for now, I have no plans of ever selling my process. Mellish's is already on the market, which could mean trouble in the future as it is."

"But hopefully not," Vincent added.

"Are we dropping you off back at Channel 6?" Barney asked, glancing to Baxter.

"Yes; I need to get some scripts to look at tonight and . . ." Baxter gasped. "Look over there!" he pointed. "The Turtles are fighting against Shredder, Bebop, and Rocksteady!"

Barney scowled. "And here I thought this was going to be a peaceful day." He drove up the street and parked.

Baxter scrambled out. "What's happening?!" he demanded, ducking as Donatello threw his bo to knock a blaster out of Rocksteady's hand.

"You're just in time to witness Krang's latest invention," Shredder sneered. "We call it the death ray." He blasted at Raphael, who somersaulted out of the way. "One blast kills anyone instantly."

Barney swore under his breath as he exited the car in time to hear that. "This is too dangerous, Brother," he said. "Let the Turtles handle it."

"I might be able to remotely hack into the gun and disable it if it has an onboard computer," Vincent suggested.

"Good. Try that." Barney leaned against the car with folded arms, tensely watching Baxter.

Baxter, at least, knew his place. He would just be underfoot in a fight like this. He was standing on the sidelines, observing as the Turtles trounced Bebop and Rocksteady as per usual. He ducked as Shredder aimed a blast near Donatello and the Turtle's movement sent the blast towards Baxter instead.

By the time he looked up again, Shredder had turned his attention to Leonardo, who was busy kicking Bebop backwards. Michelangelo sprang into action, tackling Leonardo out of the way just in time as Shredder fired.

Leonardo gasped and looked back. "Thanks, Michelangelo," he exclaimed. "Wow, Shredder could have even hit Bebop there."

"He's not holding back at all! We've gotta get that gun away from him!" Michelangelo looked around desperately for a way to do so. Rocksteady flew past his line of vision as the rhino's charge against Leonardo backfired on him. But while Michelangelo was distracted, Shredder had gotten into position and aimed the gun once more.

"Michelangelo!"

Michelangelo yelped in surprised shock as he was pushed out of the way by Baxter, entering the fight for one desperate rescue attempt. The horrible sound of a pained cry immediately followed and Baxter crashed into the street.

Michelangelo instantly spun around, his eyes wide. "Baxter?!" No, Baxter hadn't been shot. Michelangelo wouldn't believe that. He couldn't believe that! "Baxter, you're okay, right? You just tripped and fell?" He reached over, shaking him on the shoulder.

No response.

"Baxter?" Michelangelo was uncertain now. "Come on . . . say something! Did you hit your head?" He knelt on the cold asphalt and reached for his friend.

Baxter was limp in Michelangelo's arms, pale, breathless. Michelangelo stared, unable to believe. Unwilling to believe. "Baxter . . . ?" Slowly he touched his fingers to Baxter's neck. Nothing.

Michelangelo rocked back, his eyes blank. He didn't hear the sounds of the fight going on around him. He didn't hear Barney screaming in grief-stricken rage and charging Shredder, only to be forcefully thrown by Rocksteady across the grass. He didn't hear Leonardo slicing the death ray in half or Shredder roaring in fury. He didn't hear the other Turtles calling to him.

All he could hear was the complete silence of someone he had come to care about so very much.

Baxter was dead. He had tried to protect Michelangelo-and succeeded!-but he had paid the price. Shredder hadn't been exaggerating about the effects of his death ray. Baxter had been killed instantly. Not even a chance to say goodbye.

Michelangelo wanted to speak. He wanted to scream. He wanted to beg Baxter to come back, to wake up and be alright. But he couldn't. Baxter had given his life for Michelangelo and time had stopped here.

For the others, however, time marched on.

Raphael was the first to break away from the fight after knocking out Rocksteady. He swore under his breath at the sight of Baxter laying dead in the Turtle's arms. But this wasn't the time to grieve.

"Michelangelo?" He bent down, peering into the usually cheery Turtle's blank eyes. "Michelangelo!" He shook him on the shoulder. "Hey, you can't stay here! What if a car comes along?!"

Michelangelo ignored him.

Donatello came over next. "Michelangelo?" He reached down, also checking for a pulse on Baxter to be sure. Sadness filled his eyes, even though he had already known. He looked into Michelangelo's eyes, trying to find the other Turtle in there. "Michelangelo, he's gone. You've got to let him go."

No reply.

Raphael took hold of Baxter, trying to physically pull him away from Michelangelo. "Come on, Michelangelo . . ."

That got a reaction. Michelangelo roared, clutching Baxter to him and refusing to yield. "NO! You can't have him! He's not dead! You're not taking him and burying him alive!"

"Michelangelo, we can't stay here," Donatello protested.

Leonardo came over now. "Michelangelo, this is hard on all of us. We all love Baxter. But you'll have to accept he's gone."

"He's not gone!" Michelangelo spat.

Vincent came over now, after checking to make sure Barney would be alright. His eyes were filled with horror and grief. "Is Baxter really . . . ?"

"I'm so sorry, Vincent," Donatello said sadly. "He's dead." He paused. "We can't leave Michelangelo here in the road like this. Will you help us?"

"What do you want me to do?" Vincent spoke to Donatello, but his gaze was on Baxter. He couldn't look away. Baxter had been alive just a minute ago, moving, talking. . . . Now . . . now there was nothing. No sign of life. His friend was gone.

"You and I will take Baxter while Leonardo and Raphael hold Michelangelo back. I know it sounds cruel, but this isn't a good place to mourn. If we can just get to the Turtle Van or someplace out of the way . . ."

"I understand. Yes, I will help." Vincent gently took hold of Baxter, chilled at how still he was.

"Alright. On the count of three." Donatello watched as Leonardo and Raphael got into position. He hated to do this. So did they. But Michelangelo wouldn't budge and it was dangerous.

Donatello counted down and he and Vincent tried to pry Michelangelo's hands away from Baxter. Michelangelo screamed again, trying to fight them off. Leonardo and Raphael grabbed for his arms, pulling them back.

"Michelangelo, it's for your own good!" Leonardo exclaimed.

"No!" Michelangelo yelled. "It's not! Give him back!" He struggled against his friends, but they held tight.

Vincent stumbled as he and Donatello wrenched the lifeless body away from Michelangelo at last. The alien computer righted himself, staring into the pale, pained face of the first person he had ever truly loved. And even though he knew what had happened, even though all logic told him what had happened, in actual fact he found he could not accept it much better than Michelangelo could.

"Baxter? Baxter, wake up. . . ." He gently brushed the wild hair away from Baxter's face. "Baxter . . . old pal. . . ." He sank to his knees, unable to stand any longer. He cradled the body close to him, clearly devastated.

"Oh, now we're right back where we started," Raphael said in dismay.

Shredder stepped closer, his eyes filled with sick delight. "Well, this isn't the way I planned it, but it still had the desired effect," he sneered. "I didn't get to eliminate a Turtle, but that fool saw to it that I eliminated him instead!"

Michelangelo roared, again fighting to tear free of Leonardo and Raphael's grasp. "You killed him!" he screamed. "You just gunned him down like he was nothing!"

"He was nothing!" Shredder retorted. "No matter how all you fools loved him, I saw him for what he truly was-a pathetic, sniveling worm!"

"He was trying to protect me!" Michelangelo's voice was raw from yelling. "He wouldn't be dead if he hadn't been brave enough to try to push me out of the way!" Tears pricked his eyes, but he wouldn't cry in front of Shredder.

Vincent slowly looked up, focusing on his hated nemesis. "You murdered my brother." His voice was still soft as usual, but perhaps that was more disturbing than if he had screamed. Danger flashed in his eyes, and before anyone could stop him, he shot out a hand and blasted electricity at Shredder.

The warlord jumped back. "Your brother?" he mocked. "You're a delusional bucket of bolts, aren't you?"

Vincent didn't answer. His eyes were cold and hard as he blasted again, stronger this time, and kept on blasting until he managed to hit Shredder and he went down with a cry.

It was Donatello who leaped to stop him when he tried to blast again. "Vincent, stop!" he exclaimed, getting hold of him from behind and attempting to snatch his left wrist. "What's Barney going to do if you get yourself in trouble?!"

"They don't arrest computers," Vincent snapped.

"No, but they might order you dismantled and destroyed," Donatello retorted.

Vincent pulled his wrist free. "I can't imagine that even on Earth, I would be condemned for what I just did." As Shredder scrambled up and into a portal, Vincent blasted at him one final time. Then he stood, holding Baxter close to his chest.

Donatello stood too, helplessly watching. "Oh Vincent. . . ."

Vincent didn't turn to face him. "I have never in my life wished more strongly that Earth didn't frown upon taking revenge." He walked slowly towards where Barney was still sprawled on the grass.

Barney seemed to be reviving. He sat up, shaking his head as if to clear his mind. "Vincent . . . ?" He looked up, fully focusing on the computer and the body in his arms. "Baxter . . . he's . . . ?"

Vincent knelt down, tenderly laying Baxter on the grass. "He's dead, Barney," he said, his voice choked with emotion that a computer wasn't supposed to have. "Shredder killed our brother."

"Oh, dear God." Barney reached down, lifting Baxter's upper body and clutching him close. He had seen Baxter cut down right before he had charged Shredder and ended up knocked out by Rocksteady. He had desperately wanted to believe that it was only a knock-out ray, like before. But he could see that wasn't the case now. Baxter was too silent, too still. And there was no hint of breath.

"I knew you were going to get yourself killed by performing your foolhardy stunts," Barney snarled, but his anger sounded weak. Instead he sounded as though he was desperately trying not to cry. "I told you again and again. Didn't I tell you? You just didn't listen. You never listened!" He shut his eyes tightly, beginning to slowly rock back and forth.

By now Rocksteady and Bebop were both awake and stumbling towards the portal. Bebop paused, looking over at Barney with an expression of regret. For a moment he looked like he wanted to say something to his former ally, but instead he turned and followed Rocksteady through the portal.

Raphael's shoulders slumped. "Brother, huh? I didn't know Vincent felt that strongly about it. I guess I should have. He's made it pretty obvious that he loves Baxter."

"So you've accepted that he's alive?" Donatello asked.

"What can I do?" Raphael retorted. "It's staring me in the face."

Leonardo sighed sadly. They were discussing Vincent to keep from having to discuss the horror they had just witnessed. "We can't stay here, guys," he said quietly.

"Then we'll go to Barney's place or something," Michelangelo finally spoke. "Look at him, Leonardo. He's not ready to give Baxter up either. Neither is Vincent."

"He's dead, Michelangelo," Leonardo told him, his heart twisting as he did. "This time we have the body, unlike with Barney. There can be no doubt."

"And what about the dreams Master Splinter and I had?!" Michelangelo snapped back. "We both saw somebody desperately trying to claw out of a grave! I saw that it was Baxter! He is not dead!" He stamped his foot.

Donatello frowned, reaching down to lift the pieces of the destroyed death ray. "I wonder . . ."

Leonardo blinked in surprise. "What is it, Donatello?"

"I don't know," Donatello mused. "Maybe nothing. I'd like to run some tests on this gun."

Vincent walked over to them. "Then come back to our house, as Michelangelo suggested. Run the tests there."

Donatello nodded. "Thank you, Vincent. I will."

The group solemnly plodded for the Turtle Van. It was only once they were all inside, safe from the prying eyes of the world, that Michelangelo finally broke down. No matter how much he wanted to insist that Baxter was alive, he knew what the reality looked like. And he knew how it felt to see Baxter lying dead when he had been alive seconds before that. He sank to his knees, releasing the tears he had kept in check around Shredder.

Leonardo's heart broke. "Let it out, Michelangelo," he said softly. "Let it all out."

Michelangelo slumped against his leader and dear friend, sobbing helplessly. Leonardo didn't outright cry in turn, but his expression was stricken with grief.

In the front, Donatello blinked rapidly and Raphael sniffled. "Oh yeah, now we all have to fall apart," he exclaimed.

Barney didn't comment. He clutched Baxter to him, his eyes shut tightly. There was no way he could drive right now. They would travel in the Turtle Van. He could retrieve his car later. . . . Not that it mattered. . . .

His thoughts spun. When he had been thought dead, Baxter had insisted on doing everything he could to get him recognized as a hero and not a villain. Now, he would keep fighting for Baxter to have the same recognition . . . and a pardon for the Mouser calamity. Even though now it would have to come posthumously.

And the Mousers. . . . Now Baxter wouldn't even be around to see if the new deal worked out. At least he had been able to sign the contract, but . . .

Hatred for Shredder welled in Barney's heart. Why had Baxter never been allowed any lasting happiness? Why had he always had to suffer? Why had Shredder finally cut him down?

Why had Barney ever worked for that man?

He came back to the present as Vincent knelt in front of him and hugged both him and Baxter. If a computer could physically cry, he would be doing so. As it was, he was crying on the inside. Barney leaned into his friend's embrace, trying to take some comfort from Vincent's strength.

In the Lair, Splinter sensed that something horrible had happened. He bowed his head in sorrow. "Oh, my students," he said softly. "My friends. One of you has left us. And I fear I know which one."

xxxx

The Turtles wanted to pick up Splinter on the way to Barney and Vincent's house. When they reached the nearest entrance to the Lair, Leonardo was the one who chose to go down and get him.

"Master Splinter?" he called.

Splinter came to the entrance, his expression grave. "Leonardo," he greeted. "What has happened?"

"It was horrible, Master," Leonardo told him. "Shredder had this new weapon he called a death ray. It could instantly kill. He wanted to use it on one or more of us, both to be rid of us and to cause you pain. He aimed at each of us at one time or another during the fight. Eventually he pointed it at Michelangelo." Splinter stiffened. "Baxter pushed him out of the way. Only . . . he wasn't able to save himself."

Splinter gave a sad nod. "It is as I feared," he said.

"We're all grief-stricken, but Michelangelo is really taking it hard," Leonardo said.

"Of course he would," Splinter said.

"Barney and Vincent . . . can't bear to have Baxter taken away yet," Leonardo continued. "We're going to their house. We . . . wanted you to come."

"I will come," Splinter agreed.

"We've called April too," Leonardo said as they started to walk. "She's on an assignment, but she'll try to get away. Irma and Vernon are coming too."

"There is something else, I think," Splinter prompted.

Leonardo sighed. "Well, it's just that Michelangelo keeps wanting to believe Baxter can be saved. You know, because of the dreams you and he had. Now Donatello is wondering about the death ray. He won't say what he's thinking, but he wants to examine it at Barney's lab."

"I see." Splinter regarded Leonardo curiously. "And what do you believe, my pupil?"

"I don't know what to believe," Leonardo said, looking helpless. "I can't bear to see Michelangelo's hopes get crushed. Of course, all of us long more than anything for there to be some hope of saving Baxter, but how could it possibly be?"

"I do not know." Splinter frowned. "That dream . . . troubled me greatly. I didn't mention anything about it to any of you, but Michelangelo still managed to have the same dream the next night. Only his revealed it was Baxter clawing his way out of a grave, whereas mine kept the person in shadow. I do not believe that dreams always forecast the future. Many dreams are nonsense. But I still do not feel that it could be a coincidence for both of us to have the same dream independent of each other."

"I feel the same, Master," Leonardo said.

Splinter nodded but sighed. "Even so, I cannot explain the meaning of it, only what it would appear to mean. And I don't know how it could come to pass."

They arrived topside and entered the Turtle Van. Seeing Barney, Vincent, and Michelangelo gathered around Baxter, Splinter went over and knelt beside them while Donatello resumed driving. "I am so sorry for this loss," he said quietly. "It grieves me as well. Baxter was a dear friend."

Barney could only wordlessly nod. Vincent spoke for both of them. "He was. The best friend anyone could ever have."

Splinter laid a hand on Michelangelo's shoulder. "He was very brave."

That broke Michelangelo down again. "He was saving me, Sensei!" he sobbed. "If I'd been more on the ball . . . if I'd just seen where Shredder was aiming. . . . I thought I was doing good keeping him away from Leonardo."

"And you were, my son," Splinter said.

"But now Baxter's dead because of me!" Michelangelo wailed. "He was my best bud along with Leonardo, Raphael, and Donatello." He shook his head, reaching out to touch Baxter's forehead. "Now he's just gone."

"He will never be truly gone as long as we keep him alive in our hearts," Splinter said.

"Cheap words," Barney muttered. "Keeping him alive that way doesn't bring him back. It's not the same."

"What about our dreams, Sensei?!" Michelangelo demanded. "They really made it seem like Baxter could be saved, or that we had to be careful we didn't bury him alive, or something like that. But he . . . he's so quiet. He's not moving . . . or breathing."

"His heart isn't beating," Vincent added.

"I do not know how to explain the dreams," Splinter admitted. "All I can try to do is reach out to his spirit." He laid a hand on Baxter's forehead and closed his eyes, desperately trying to call Baxter forth. But it was in vain; there was no response.

"He wouldn't go on to the Great Beyond without saying Goodbye," Raphael growled.

"Maybe he tried and we couldn't hear him," Michelangelo said softly.

"Why could we see and hear him before?" Barney hissed. "When he wasn't even dead?"

"Perhaps because he wasn't dead," Splinter suggested. "He needed help."

"It's not as though we were able to do anything that helped him back then," Barney retorted, his voice harsh and bitter.

"For someone to be able to see and hear him may have helped him more than you know," Splinter answered.

"And that was when you first realized that you couldn't stand it without him, Buddy," Vincent reminded.

"And I showed it by treating him so repulsively, even you were angry and wouldn't speak to me much at all afterwards," Barney shot back.

"I was angry, yes," Vincent admitted. "I felt so bad for Baxter. But when I started to realize why you acted out like that, it went a long way towards changing my feelings towards you."

Barney bowed his head. "It should be so simple to say what you really mean," he whispered, really only intending for Vincent to hear him now. "'I love you' . . . 'I can't stand for you to be dead' . . . 'I'm so happy you're alive. . . .' And yet, saying those simple words can be the most challenging thing in the world. It's so much easier to give in to the mask of anger, especially if you really are angry to some extent . . . to blurt something that sounds completely opposite to what you really want to say . . . and crush the other person in the process. . . ." His voice broke and he hugged Baxter to him, the guilt and anguish piling high in his stricken eyes.

Vincent laid a hand on Barney's shoulder. "Baxter knew what you meant, Barney."

"He loved me so much and I never deserved it," Barney spat.

"He felt that you did," Vincent told him.

Barney fell silent. Vincent was right, something that would never cease to stymie him.

Donatello pulled in at Barney's gate and Barney struggled to his feet and outside to tap in the needed code. Then he simply stayed outside, trudging through the yard and up to the porch. When he got the doors open, he stayed and waited as everyone climbed out. Vincent was carrying Baxter.

"Let's take him upstairs to the room he had when he stayed over," Barney directed. And when we take him out, we are locking that room and never using it again.

Vincent didn't comment, but from his eyes he sensed what Barney was thinking. And from his expression, locking the room was the last thing he would want to do. He carried Baxter up in silence.

"The laboratory is on the ground floor," Barney said to Donatello. "It's down that hall, last door on your left."

Donatello nodded. "Thanks."

"What are you thinking, my student?" Splinter asked.

Donatello paused. "I'd rather not say, Master Splinter. If that's okay. Not until I've run the tests."

Splinter nodded and stepped back. "That is quite alright."

Barney folded his arms. "Will you tell us this? Are you also having foolish delusions that my brother is still alive?"

"He looks dead to me, Barney," Donatello said quietly. "But please wait to have him taken away until after I've finished." He hurried down the hall.

"Well, that was cryptic," Raphael commented.

"They're not foolish delusions," Michelangelo spoke up, slamming his fist into his palm.

"Well, they're something illogical," Barney shot back. "Baxter is dead! I don't want to have false hope and think he's coming back when he's not! I want to accept his death so I can deal with it!" He stepped closer to Michelangelo. "And you keep saying he's dead, that he died for you, and yet at the same time you keep acting like he isn't dead! Can't you make up your mind?!"

"No, I can't!" Michelangelo cried. "Yeah, he looks dead. He sacrificed himself for me! But I'm sure those dreams mean something! I just can't figure out what!" The tears were pricking his eyes again. "Everything logical tells me Baxter's gone. But at the same time, I just can't accept that!"

"Then at least stop telling me about it!" Barney screamed. "I can't stand it any longer!" He turned, storming up the stairs.

"Oh yeah?!" Michelangelo couldn't refrain from yelling after him. "If you really love him, why don't you want to have hope that maybe he's not gone?!"

Barney froze.

"Michelangelo," Splinter sternly admonished. "I am sorry, Dr. Stockman," he said louder.

Barney went up the rest of the steps, not looking back.

Michelangelo blinked, as though suddenly coming back to himself and realizing how hurtfully he had behaved. "Oh no," he whispered. "Maximum bummer. I can't believe I just said that. . . ."

"You are both grieving, Michelangelo," Splinter said. "Barney's method is different from yours, but both are completely valid."

Michelangelo gazed up the stairs. "I actually like Barney," he said. "I wanted to make friends with him. He'll never want to now."

"I believe he will," Splinter said. "You were the closest to Baxter out of all of us. In time I believe he will seek you out because of that."

"I hope so," Michelangelo said. "But I should apologize right now." He started up the stairs.

Leonardo didn't look as sure. "Maybe you should give him some time first," he said.

Michelangelo didn't agree. He went up the rest of the stairs and towards the open bedroom door. But he stopped when he heard voices inside.

"I tried to act so tough for Shredder," Barney was softly saying. "I even held up a crowbar and implied I'd strike Baxter down if he interfered. But deep down, I . . . I knew I didn't want to. Then when I snapped and actually did it, I was so horrified. I thought I'd really gone through with it. Even though I was so angry, I . . . I never wanted to kill my brother."

Michelangelo crept up to the doorway and peered inside. Baxter had been laid on the bed. Barney was holding Baxter's hand in his, gently running his other hand over it. Vincent was sitting in a chair to the side, watching and looking heartbroken.

"I checked for a pulse. . . . You can't imagine the relief and joy that swept over me when I found I hadn't delivered a fatal blow. But then I had to lie to Krang to save his life, and keep lying to save both our lives. All our lives."

Barney paused and looked over at Vincent. "I love my brother," he said in anguish. "You helped me realize it. And then he was our brother and we were all a family. Now today, I had to check him for a pulse again. This time there wasn't one!" He sank to his knees in anguish, still clutching Baxter's hand between his.

"Oh Barney. . . ." Vincent stood, coming closer to the bed.

"He's dead and I don't know what I wouldn't give to have him back!" Barney brought Baxter's hand up to rest against his forehead.

Vincent took Baxter's other hand. "I feel the same. You can't imagine how much he changed my life and how much I came to love him. To lose him, I feel like . . . like part of my circuitry has been ripped out. That's how I felt when I thought I'd lost you."

Barney weakly nodded. "That's how it is when you love someone and then they're gone."

Suddenly he looked stricken. "Did I ever even tell him I loved him? It wasn't something we tended to say. We never heard it from our parents growing up. He expressed his love for me when I attacked the wretch who was stalking him, but . . . did I ever tell him?"

"All the time, Barney," Vincent assured him. "Every time you protected him, every time you showed concern . . . even when you were angry because you cared so much. 'I love you' doesn't have to be said in so many words. There are countless ways to say it. You were saying 'I love you' loud and clear in many of those ways. And Baxter got the message."

Michelangelo turned away. Maybe Leonardo was right. Maybe he had better wait. He didn't like the thought of barging in on this. Instead he headed down the hall to find the door to the balcony he had noticed. Maybe being alone for a while was what he needed.

xxxx

The mood in the house was heavy with grief. No one was quite sure what to do to deal with it. Raphael paced the floor. Leonardo stood at the window. Splinter leaned on his walking stick and watched them both.

"Why didn't one of us see what was happening?!" Raphael finally burst out. "We knew Shredder was trying to get one of us. Why weren't we keeping a better eye on things?!"

"We only have so many eyes, Raphael," Leonardo retorted. "We were trying as best as we could." He gripped his arms. "But it wasn't good enough. I wasn't good enough. Michelangelo was able to protect me, but I couldn't protect him or Baxter!"

"Leonardo." Splinter stepped forward. "You must take heed of your own words. You tried as best as you could. Bebop and Rocksteady were there as well, were they not?"

"They were," Leonardo said.

"So you had to watch for them as well as Shredder."

Leonardo shook his head. "I know that's logical and true, Master, but I keep coming back to the fact that our friend is dead because I wasn't a good enough leader."

"Our friend is dead because I wasn't a good enough fighter!" Raphael cried.

"Stop, both of you!" Splinter commanded. "Our friend is dead because we have a very evil, very merciless enemy. And . . . our friend is dead because he gave the ultimate sacrifice to save Michelangelo."

"And he shouldn't have had to," Raphael muttered.

A knock on the door interrupted the conversation. Steeling himself, Leonardo went over to answer it. "Hi, April," he greeted. "Irma, Vernon."

"We came as fast as we could," April said sadly as they walked into the house.

"Is it really true?" Vernon spoke. He sounded and looked completely sorrowful. "Dr. Stockman is . . . dead?"

"He's dead," Leonardo confirmed. "He's laying in a bedroom upstairs."

"Oh no." Irma's eyes filled with tears.

"If you would like to see him . . ." Splinter started to say.

"I'd rather not," Vernon said. "I . . . don't think I could take it. . . ."

Splinter nodded. "And that is perfectly alright," he said. "It is a very difficult sight."

Irma looked hesitant as well. "Was he . . . in a lot of pain?"

"He went instantaneously," Splinter said.

April looked even sadder. "There wasn't any chance to say goodbye?"

"No," Leonardo said.

"But we must be grateful Dr. Stockman did not suffer," Splinter said.

"He might be suffering now," Raphael retorted. "Maybe he's trying to communicate and he can't."

April looked stricken by that thought. "And where are Donatello and Michelangelo?" she wondered.

"Donatello's working in the lab with the death ray," Raphael said gruffly. "He won't say what he's hoping to find. Michelangelo . . . eh, he and Barney had an argument and he went upstairs to apologize."

April frowned. "I think I'll go see Donatello."

"Lab's down that way," Raphael said, pointing with a finger. "But I don't think he'll tell you any more than he did us."

"We'll see," April replied. Truthfully, she wasn't sure Donatello had anything in mind about the death ray. She wondered if he was using that as an excuse to mourn in private. She knew that Donatello and Baxter had been quite close, always puzzling over that power source from the Floxy Theatre. Working together on the Golden Goose case had brought them closer as well.

Soon she arrived at the lab and knocked on the door. "Donatello?"

"Come in." Donatello sounded occupied and not hesitant.

April opened the door. "How are you doing?"

Donatello sighed. "How are any of us doing?"

"I asked a dumb question," April conceded. "We're all doing absolutely rotten. But I meant about what you're doing with the death ray."

"Oh." Donatello looked down at it. "It's kind of hard to figure out how it worked. Leonardo sliced it first and then Raphael went at it. Now it's like a jigsaw puzzle."

"Why do you need to figure out how it worked?" April frowned. "It murders people. Isn't that all you need to know?"

"I just wondered . . ." Donatello trailed off. "No. Nevermind."

April hesitated. ". . . And I know this is an awful question, but . . . how long do you guys plan on . . . well, keeping Dr. Stockman here?"

Donatello shook his head. "It's Barney's house. It's his and Vincent's decision. But they're both logical . . . beings. I'm sure they'll decide before long that they'll have to have him taken away. I wish I could get this finished first, though," he muttered.

April studied the object with another curious gleam in her eye, but didn't try to speak. "Well, I guess you'll probably want to be alone to work on it. . . ." She started to ease back into the hall. "Just don't stay locked up in here too long, okay?"

"Okay," Donatello mumbled, but he was already occupied again.

As April headed back towards the living room, Barney came down the stairs with the intention of checking on Donatello's progress.

"Dr. Stockman." Splinter approached. "How is Michelangelo?"

Barney frowned, genuinely confused. "I haven't seen him."

"He went up there wanting to apologize to you," Raphael snapped.

Barney whipped to look at him. "He didn't come in," he shot back. "I said I haven't seen him and that's the truth."

"Then he must have gone somewhere else," Leonardo quickly interjected, not wanting another fight to break out. "Maybe he didn't want to disturb you at the time. I'd better go look for him."

Barney heaved a sigh. It was tempting to just let Leonardo handle it. But under the circumstances, he felt that he should be involved. "I'll do it," he said. "I know my house better than you."

"But I know Michelangelo," Leonardo pointed out.

". . . Then we'll both look," Barney retorted.

Upstairs, Vincent was trying and failing to be logical. He knew Baxter was gone. He knew Baxter couldn't hear him. But seeing him lying there and knowing there would never be another chance to be with him, at least in mortality, made him want to talk anyway. Now that he was alone, he didn't have to try to be strong so Barney wouldn't break.

"I remember when we first met," he said softly. "I was so happy to see someone finally come in again. Everyone I'd known had been dead for centuries. The robots on the ship weren't much company. They were programmed to do their duties and nothing else. At least they were something, I suppose, but they weren't like you, someone with independent thought. Well, relatively speaking, considering the fly's takeover of your mind. . . . I wanted to be friends right away. And I know now I didn't do a very good job of it by Earth standards, but I tried as best as I knew how.

"You said I kept you anchored to some semblance of humanity and that without me, you degraded much faster. I'm glad that I was able to do something right. And with you, I was needed . . . wanted again. It felt so good. I devoted myself to trying to be a good friend to you and I came to love you so much.

"I remember when I first felt close enough to you to call you 'pal' and 'buddy.' I know you don't remember that time very well, and that's alright. It's better that you don't. But you taught me about pet names. . . . I remember asking you what friends called each other these days and you told me.

"It hurt so much to watch the fly take more and more of your mind each day. I wanted so badly to help you, to find a cure, and I never could. But at last you finally found one, Pal. And at least you finally got to spend some time as a human again. You said that you had finally found happiness after a lifetime of sorrow.

"You're my brother, Baxter, and you always will be. I promise I'll take good care of Barney. But that's not going to be easy, you know. He's also grieving over you so much. . . ."

Vincent rocked back, surveying the still form. Logic was setting back in again and he knew all of his words had fallen on ears that could no longer hear.

"Oh Baxter," he said in anguish. "Old pal. . . . If only you could come back to us!"

Outside in the hall, Barney and Leonardo had gotten an idea about the balcony at the same time. They hurried down the corridor to the doors and stopped. Michelangelo was out there, resting his arms on the railing as he stared out at the setting sun. It was particularly red that evening.

"Alright," Leonardo said quietly. "Michelangelo wanted to apologize to you; you should go out by yourself."

Barney frowned. "I won't know how to handle it."

"Just be yourself," Leonardo said. "Handle it the way you would honestly handle it. But remember that you're both grieving over Baxter in different ways."

Barney gave an unsatisfied grunt, but opened the door and awkwardly went out. "Michelangelo?"

The Turtle started and turned. "Oh hey, Barney. I'm sorry I came out here. . . . I wanted to say I was sorry for the mondo uncool things I said, but then I didn't think I should barge in on you and Vincent and I came out here instead. . . . Guess I was gone longer than I thought." He shifted. "I really am sorry. I know you love Baxter. You're just . . . dealing with this way differently than I would."

Barney nodded. "I can hardly fault you for your words, given my sins."

Michelangelo smiled a bit. "That sounds like something Baxter would say. Kind of. Well, the message of it, at least."

Barney really didn't mind being compared to Baxter on that. "I don't want to believe in something if it isn't true and believing will only hurt me worse," he said.

"I know," Michelangelo said. "That's what you said when we weren't sure if Vincent was okay. You love Baxter so much, you just can't stand knowing he's gone. But you wanna accept it instead of hoping for something that won't happen."

"Yes, that's right," Barney nodded.

"And me, I can't stand knowing he's gone either. And that dream really freaks me out, but it makes me hope too. And part of me just can't give that up." Michelangelo clenched a fist. "I want to believe it can happen."

Barney decided not to pursue that conversation topic further. ". . . Baxter told me you dreamed about the collapse of the Dansing Building and me being caught in it," he said.

"Yeah," Michelangelo nodded. "Well, sort of. I saw the lightning gun beam up into the sky and I saw the building come down and I heard this awful scream. I thought it was Baxter, but now I figure it must have been you and the dream was warning me about you."

"I can't even begin to explain that," Barney grunted.

"You don't believe in dreams and visions and stuff like that?"

"I believe in logic, and that's not logical." Barney turned away with a frown. "But then again, neither is how I got out of that building."

"What's that?" Michelangelo blinked.

"Nothing," Barney retorted. He opened the door. "Anyway . . . your apology is accepted . . . and I'm also sorry. I realize you're dealing with this situation the way you find best. I shouldn't have exploded."

"Hey, you're so broken-up, it's understandable," Michelangelo said.

Barney paused. ". . . If you want to stay out here, you're welcome to it."

"Thanks." Michelangelo looked back to the last rays of the late winter sun. "I'm just thinking about me and Baxter. I remember when he jumped in to protect me when Bugman went gonzo. I know he was so worried because he understood what it was like to have something take over your mind and how dangerous somebody like that could be, but he didn't have to do that. . . . He was just this little guy, barely over five feet tall, standing off against a mind-controlled version of the greatest superhero in the city. Bugman just slammed into him full-force with both fists and he . . . he just went tumbling across the roof."

Barney flinched. "That sounds like Baxter."

Michelangelo nodded. "I ran over to him and he was hurt and everything . . . knocked out . . . but I could see he was still alive. And I wish . . . I wonder . . . why he couldn't have been alive this time too."

"Because he just pulled one stunt too many," Barney said bitterly. He drew a shuddering breath. "He would have done the same for any of you . . . or for Vincent or me. Having people he loved . . . gave him courage he never knew he had."

Michelangelo looked down. "He liked to walk around the city. . . . I'd walk with him sometimes. And it's funny . . . even though we don't . . . didn't really have any of the same interests, we always found a lot to talk about." He ran a hand on the railing. "I always found it bizarro that he was even interested in being friends with me. . . . I thought sure he'd be closest to Donatello."

"You have a natural gift for drawing people in," Barney said. "Baxter wasn't immune to that. He was starved all his life for someone like you."

"Someone like me?" Michelangelo still seemed disbelieving. "A surf-loving, comic book adoring, cowabunga-ing kind of guy?"

Barney didn't laugh. "Someone loving and forgiving. Someone who accepted him instead of trying to change him. Someone who actually said and showed what he meant instead of always saying the opposite of what he meant. Someone . . . who wasn't like me."

Michelangelo stiffened. But before he could reply, Barney had vanished back into the house.

"Someone like me, huh?" Michelangelo whispered. It still seemed so incredible. But Baxter truly had enjoyed his company. Despite their lack of shared interests, and heck, the large gap in their ages, they had been the best of friends.

What did age matter anyway? Vincent was almost 500.

The Turtle sighed sadly to himself. As the sun went down, he decided to follow Barney's lead and go back inside as well.

He found everyone else coming up the steps when he did. "What's going on?" he frowned.

Splinter looked to him with a mix of kindness and sorrow. "We feel it is time we should say our last farewells," he said gently.

"No," Michelangelo protested. "Sensei, come on! The dreams!"

"I know," Splinter said. "I am still wondering about them. And Donatello asked us to wait for him to finish his analysis before having Baxter taken away. We will, and I will keep trying to reach Baxter's spirit so we may know for certain what has happened. I do not want any horrific error to be made. But April, Irma, and Vernon need to leave. This may be the only chance they will have to pay their respects . . . until the funeral."

Michelangelo bowed his head. "Okay then," he consented. "I'll go along with this for them."

Splinter gave him a kind smile. "Thank you, Michelangelo."

"Hey, if it's gotta be done. . . ." Sniffling hard, Michelangelo followed the rest of the group into the room.

Judging from Barney's expression, he both had and hadn't expected the group. But he knew why they had all come. "Say what you want," he said. "I'll go after the rest of you." When I can be alone with him.

Vincent was of the same mind. He didn't want to speak with everyone else around.

April blinked back tears as she approached. "I never could have imagined that we would ever be friends," she said softly. "But I've really loved working with you, Dr. Stockman. And living in the same building with you, I've felt safe and happy. I'll never forget you."

Irma was outright crying. "I thought you were so arrogant and standoffish," she said. "Maybe you were kind of arrogant sometimes, like about science and your inventions, but you were also really nice. I'll never forget how kind you were to me. I'm going to miss you, Dr. Stockman."

Vernon couldn't bring himself to say anything. He stared at the body for a long moment and then choked back a sob, retreating to the far corner of the room. To his surprise, Irma went to him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

Splinter knew exactly what he wanted to say. "It is written that cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once. My brave friend, thank you for saving my son."

Raphael was supremely awkward, but he still wanted to deliver a last address. "I didn't know what to make of you when we first took you in. But you ended up being one of the most loyal friends we've ever had." He gripped Baxter's shoulder. "It's completely inadequate, but . . . thanks, you know . . . for everything."

Leonardo put his hands together and bowed to Baxter in traditional Japanese style. "Thank you, my friend. You were very kind, very loyal, and very brave. I promise we won't let your sacrifice be in vain."

Donatello also looked awkward, but hesitant as well. "It was really nice having another scientist to work with," he said softly. "Even though we didn't always agree. I'm really going to miss you, Baxter. I'll find out what that power source is, in your memory."

Michelangelo went last. He sniffled harder, but didn't try to hold back the tears. "Well, Sensei kind of gave me the idea to quote Shakespeare, but . . . goodnight, sweet prince. May flights of angels bear thee to thy rest . . . or something like that. . . ." He swallowed hard. "I know I must have been pretty annoying sometimes, but you always welcomed me. I'm never gonna forget all the great times we had. . . . And now you went and saved me for the finale. . . . You can't top that, right?" He tried to give a shaking smile. "Thanks . . . for caring that much. . . . I'm always gonna remember you as one of my bestest buds ever. I wish we'd had more time, but . . . I'm mondo grateful for the time we did have. Nothing and nobody can ever take that away."

He shifted. He thought he was being brave and handling this so well, but . . . but . . .

He cried out, falling across Baxter and hugging him close. "Wake up!" he screamed. "Wake up, Baxter! You're my amigo. I don't wanna let you go!" He sobbed, his tears slipping onto Baxter's face. "You have to come back. The dreams said you'd come back! Wake up. . . ."

Everyone jumped a mile.

"Oh Michelangelo," Leonardo said sadly. In that moment he knew-Michelangelo would never get over this.

And then the unbelievable happened.

Baxter's eyes twitched and fluttered open when the teardrops hit them. "Michelangelo . . . ?" His voice was very weak, very soft, but everyone heard it.

Barney leaped up, absolutely sheet-white.

The lights on the laptop flashed rapidly. Vincent was staring, processing what he was seeing and hearing yet not sure how to really process it at all.

Michelangelo sprang back, gaping in both shock and joy. "Baxter!?" He pulled him upright on the bed, hugging him again and now crying tears of utter ecstasy. "You're alive! You came back! I knew you weren't gone! I knew it!"

Baxter looked as stunned as everyone else felt. "I . . ." He leaned into Michelangelo's embrace, slowly returning it. "I'm not dead?"

"You are not, my dear friend," Splinter said with a warm and joyous smile. "You are not."

A crash sounded from the other end of the room and everyone looked over with a start.

"Vernon just fainted!" Irma exclaimed.

"Right now, I don't think I blame him!" Raphael cried. "This . . . it's not possible! How is it possible?!"

"It's a miracle," Leonardo said reverently.

"A miracle of science," Donatello interjected.

All eyes turned to him. "Donatello, what have you been keeping back?!" April demanded.

"Well . . . I haven't finished my research," Donatello said slowly. "I probably wouldn't have examined the death ray at all if it hadn't been for Master Splinter and Michelangelo's dreams. But Michelangelo was so insistent that I started to wonder if there was any chance that . . . well, Baxter might have been put in a temporary state of suspended animation instead of killed."

Barney shot him a look. "And you were going to tell us that when?!"

"I wanted to run some more tests while Master Splinter tried again to contact Baxter's spirit," Donatello said. "I . . . I just didn't want to give anyone false hope."

Irma was kneeling on the floor, fanning Vernon's face with her hands. "So it was a suspended animation ray gun?!"

Donatello started to nod. "Well, that would certainly be my guess," he said.

Raphael's eyes narrowed to slits. "And if it was, I'm betting Shred-Head knew it all along! That sleaze! He put us through all this agony on purpose! And Baxter could have ended up in the morgue!"

Michelangelo finally let go of Baxter, realizing that Barney and Vincent should be allowed to get to him. "I never gave up on you, Dude," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "But you thought you were giving up everything for me." He swallowed hard. "Thanks . . . so much."

"I wish I could have got out of the way myself and spared all of you this agony." Baxter looked around at everyone in the room, stunned and overwhelmed. It was difficult to process that he was really alive, as he too had believed he was dead. He hated to think of how everyone here had suffered. At the same time, it bowled him over that they all loved him so much.

Vincent came up to him now. "You would have if you could." He hugged Baxter close. "Old pal . . . I thought I'd never talk with you again. . . ."

Baxter hugged his dear friend, not even sure what to say. "I . . . I'm so sorry. . . . I wish this hadn't happened. . . ."

"It doesn't matter, Baxter," Vincent said. "The only thing that matters to me is that you came back."

Baxter doubted if Barney felt the same, especially in light of how he had behaved when Baxter had astral-projected. He caught Barney's eye now, as Vincent pulled back, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. Barney's eyes were filled with crashing emotions. He didn't speak, just as he hadn't at first when Baxter had returned to his body and presented himself to Barney alive and well.

Baxter was nervous now. "Barney, I . . . I really am sorry," he stammered. "I never wanted to put you through so much . . . anguish. . . ."

He let out a gasp of surprise when Barney leaned in and enveloped him in a tight embrace. Barney still didn't speak. Perhaps he didn't trust himself to or he honestly didn't want to right now. But his actions spoke volumes.

"Oh Barney. . . ." Baxter closed his eyes and hugged his twin in turn.

On the floor, Vernon groaned as he revived. "Did I really see Dr. Stockman sitting up and talking?" he mumbled.

"Yes, Vernon, you did," Irma smiled. "He's okay." She held out a hand to pull him up. "We're all okay."

Vernon blinked in surprise but accepted her hand, sitting up on the floor. "But how?" he gasped, staring at the incredible scene before them. "People don't come back from the dead!"

"Well, occasionally they do," Donatello said. "There's documented cases of clinically dead people reviving again. But in Baxter's case, I'm pretty sure he wasn't really dead to begin with."

Vernon shook his head. "Incredible. . . ."

"It truly is," Splinter agreed. "And we are all so very thankful."

"For sure, Sensei," Michelangelo beamed. "For sure."

xxxx

Bebop and Rocksteady sighed to each other as Krang continued to scream at Shredder. They were both sitting on crates in the next room over from the main control room, where Shredder had regulated them upon their return.

"Do you think Krang's getting tired of yelling at the boss yet?" Rocksteady wondered.

"He's probably going to lose his voice if he isn't," Bebop said. "He's pretty mad that the boss used our suspended animation ray to go after them Shellbacks instead of puttin' the whole city out like he was supposed to so we could take over the place."

"And then he didn't even get the Turtles in the first place," Rocksteady scowled. "Thanks to Baxter and that blue-masked Turtle."

Bebop looked down. "I felt really bad for Barney when we saw him holding Baxter. He thought his brother was dead."

"And that's the guy who clobbered his brother with a crowbar and acted like he didn't care," Rocksteady remarked.

"But according to that alien computer, Barney was lying all the time to protect Baxter's life." Bebop leaned forward. "I wish I'd said somethin' to him."

"You mean like telling him the effect would wear off in a few hours?" Rocksteady blinked.

"Yeah. It just seemed so rotten to go off and leave him like that." Bebop stared at the floor.

"Hey, we're not supposed to feel bad about stuff like that, you know," Rocksteady said. "We shouldn't even like Barney. He betrayed the boss. It sounds like he never was on our side, even before the lightning gun thing."

"I know. But I still like him." Bebop straightened. "And now I feel like I betrayed him."

"So what are you gonna do about it?" Rocksteady asked.

"I don't know. Probably nothing." Bebop resumed staring at the floor.

"Yeah. Nothing." Rocksteady stared at the floor too.

The angry shrieks of Krang and the infuriated bellows of Shredder continued to echo from the main control room.

xxxx

Everyone had started to trickle out of Baxter's room to allow him a chance to get his bearings after awakening. April, Irma, and Vernon did need to leave, and Donatello wanted to return to his research to see if he could learn for certain if he was correct about the suspended animation. Michelangelo was on cloud nine and wanted to fix dinner for everyone remaining.

Baxter looked up in surprise when one person peeked back into the room. "Mr. Fenwick," he greeted.

Encouraged, Vernon slowly stepped inside. "I . . . I'm still trying to process that you're really and truly alive," he said. "I saw you laying there, apparently dead, and it was horrible . . . !"

"I'm sorry," Baxter said quietly. "If I could have got myself out of the way as well as Michelangelo, I would have done so. There wasn't enough time. I had just barely pushed him aside when I felt the ray in my back."

Vernon shuddered. "Everyone was saying farewell messages to you. . . . Splinter was going to try to contact your spirit again, but it seemed so hopeless. . . . I couldn't even bring myself to say anything. . . ."

Baxter looked at him. "It's alright, Mr. Fenwick. I wouldn't expect everyone to do that."

"It wasn't that I didn't care, or that I didn't want to. . . ." Vernon shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I . . . just couldn't stand seeing someone who helped me so much in that condition. And I worried that somehow you'd know that I was the only one who didn't talk to you. . . . I wanted to explain."

"I understand," Baxter said. "I know you care. We've come a long way since I joined Channel 6."

Vernon finally relaxed. "We have." He glanced over his shoulder, then back to Baxter. "I need to go, but . . . I'm . . . I'm so very glad you're alright."

Baxter smiled. "Thank you."

He settled back into the pillows when Vernon left. His back still stung where the ray had hit him, but thankfully it wasn't worse than that. The pain would fade. At the moment, he didn't even mind feeling the pain. He was alive.

He had been so sure that it was the end. And that had grieved him, as so many things had been left undone in his life-his mending relationship with Barney, his deepening relationships with Vincent, the Turtles, Splinter, and his coworkers. . . . And he had known his death would throw all of them into turmoil. He hadn't wanted to do that to them.

Another face appeared in the doorway. "Hi, Baxter," Donatello greeted. "I know you need to rest, but I wanted to let you know that I've finished my research on the ray gun. It definitely was for suspended animation."

"I figured it had to be," Baxter said. "But thank you for letting me know." He sighed. "Shredder's plan was outrageously cruel, but I'm grateful he didn't use a real death ray."

"Aren't we all," Donatello said. He started to step away. "Well, just let us know if you need anything."

"Thank you," Baxter nodded. He planned to go downstairs in a little bit, but he did want to rest for at least a few minutes anyway. Suspended animation was not a relaxing experience; he felt dazed and weak.

"Oh," he suddenly said. "What happened to Barney?"

Donatello hesitated. "Well, all I know is that he was apparently in the library. When I left the lab, he came out of the library, went in the lab, and shut the door after him."

"I see." Baxter sighed a bit.

"Do you want me to get him?" Donatello asked.

"No," Baxter said quickly. "That's alright. I'll . . . see him when I come down, I guess."

"I can help you down, if you'd like," Donatello offered.

"We'll see," Baxter smiled at him. "I'd like to just rest for a few minutes. But I'll be down for dinner."

"Okay." Donatello turned and headed down the hall.

Baxter gazed up at the ceiling. He hoped Barney wasn't mad at him. Or if he was, hopefully it was just a mask for his anguish. Baxter had definitely learned a lot about how to read Barney in the past few months.

Maybe he would go down in a moment and look for Vincent. His old friend always tried to help him make sense of things. That was one memory he did retain from his time as a fly creature. And it was still true in the present-day as well.

xxxx

Michelangelo was enthusiastic as he bustled about Barney's kitchen, putting together ingredients for dinner recipes. The other Turtles and Splinter sat around the table and watched.

"You see?!" Michelangelo exclaimed. "Those dreams really did mean something! We needed to listen to them!"

Splinter nodded. "That is true. They were, most likely, a warning against being too quick to decide what Baxter's fate would be. And perhaps also, encouragement that he wasn't lost to us."

"Yeah, well, it would've been nice if the dreams had just come out and said 'Baxter is going to be hurt and you'll think he's dead, but he's not,'" Raphael grumbled.

"That's exactly what they said, though!" Michelangelo shot back. "That was plain as anything!"

"Of course, this still doesn't mean that all dreams have legitimate messages for the future," Donatello said. "Most dreams are just the mind trying to make sense of things in your life."

"But we all agreed that something seemed suspicious when both Master Splinter and Michelangelo had the same basic dream," Leonardo said.

"Maybe so, but you still didn't really believe what I was sure of! And what would have happened if the effect of that stupid ray hadn't worn off right when it did?!" Michelangelo cried.

"Everything still would have turned out alright," Splinter insisted. "Donatello would have finished his analysis and learned what we were dealing with."

Donatello nodded. "And I wouldn't have even been analyzing it if it hadn't been for your insistence, Michelangelo," he said. "So we were listening. We just couldn't fully give ourselves over to the hope you tried to have."

"Yeah, I guess that's true," Michelangelo conceded.

Vincent stepped into the room then. "Is everything alright in here?" He wasn't sure how much of a mess the Turtles made when preparing a meal. Barney hadn't cared if they went ahead, but Vincent hoped the kitchen would not be left as a disaster zone when all was said and done.

"Everything's mondo coolioso, my amigo," Michelangelo chirped.

Vincent was silent a moment. "I thought I'd learned all the major Earth languages, but this one escapes me."

"Don't worry about it," Raphael said. "It's Michelangelo-ese. He makes up a lot of these words all on his own."

"I see," said Vincent.

"And you'll have to get used to it since you'll be around us a lot," Leonardo smiled a bit. "Barney will too."

"That will be an interesting experience," Vincent said. He paused. "I'm happy that you're willing to give us both that chance."

"Because of Baxter," Raphael said.

Vincent hesitated again. "If Baxter had truly been . . . gone, I suppose any attempt at friendship between us would have fallen apart."

The Turtles and Splinter looked at each other.

"It is hard to say," Splinter said at last. "It would have been difficult for all of us. But perhaps Baxter's love for all of us would have eventually drawn us together. Or our love for him."

Michelangelo nodded. "I'd like to think we would've still ended up friends. But I'm mondo glad that we don't have to even think about that question now!"

Vincent smiled. "As am I."

Michelangelo held out a hand to Vincent like he was going to give a high-five. Not quite sure if that was what he had in mind, Vincent slowly brought his hand to meet the Turtle's. Michelangelo did indeed high-five him, grinning as he did. "To Baxter," he chirped.

"To Baxter," Vincent echoed.

xxxx

Baxter limped slowly down the stairs. He felt weak and wobbly from the effects of what they now knew had been a suspended animation ray gun, but he was alright. He was alive. He was still marveling about it.

He reached the bottom and went into the living room, sinking wearily into a couch. Leaning back, he gazed up at the ceiling without really seeing it.

"Baxter!" Vincent entered the room and sat near him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Baxter looked to him and smiled. "I really thought it was over for me when I was hit. . . ." He shuddered. "I thought I'd never be able to go to the Lair or to come here or to enjoy my loved ones' company here or any place. . . . I thought you and the others wouldn't be able to see or hear me ever again. . . . That we'd never communicate until we were all dead. . . ."

"Did you feel anything, Baxter?" Vincent asked softly. "I know suspended animation is supposed to be painless and thoughtless, like a deep sleep."

"I heard things, sometimes," Baxter said. "I didn't understand why I was hearing anything. . . . I found out that there are spirits, so I knew I wouldn't still be . . . well, with my body after death. . . . And unable to see or move. . . ."

"That must have been so frightening for you, Pal," Vincent said. "You were suffering too."

"I don't think I'd say that," Baxter exclaimed. "What all of you were going through was so much worse." He sighed. "But I really was afraid. . . . Before I could think how to handle it, I'd always sink back into complete oblivion."

Vincent draped an arm along the back of the couch. "It's over now and you're back with us. And we don't want you to ever leave again."

"Me either." Baxter looked to him. "Vincent . . . I feel like Barney's been avoiding me. I mean, he certainly showed me how happy he was that I'm back, but I haven't seen him since. Donatello said he ducked into the library and then the laboratory and he hasn't come out."

Vincent brushed a few stray pieces of hair over Baxter's shoulder. "Barney doesn't know what to say," he said. "That's pretty obvious. Maybe part of him is a little angry and he doesn't want to risk exploding at you again. I think mostly, though . . . he's just reeling. He may have gone into the laboratory to try to get some of his feelings out."

Baxter was concerned now. "Maybe you should go talk to him," he suggested. "He always opens up to you."

"I think we should both talk to him," Vincent replied.

"I think . . . I should talk to both of you."

They both whirled at the sound of Barney's voice, rasping with hesitant emotion. He was coming down the hall towards them, his eyes still filled with conflicting feelings. He sat down in a chair, facing them on the couch. He stared for a long moment and then shook his head. "I . . . don't know where to begin."

"Barney . . ." Baxter shifted on the couch. "Are you angry at me?"

Barney growled and looked away. "I'm always going to be asked that, aren't I. It's alright; I deserve it. But I hate that because of me, now you'll probably forever have that burning question on your mind.

"I'm angry you did something foolhardy again, yes. But I know that you had to do it. And there's nothing I can say or do to stop you from doing things like that in the future if you deem it necessary. You always had a history of doing idiotic things, just not always in order to protect anyone. Clearly you love your new friends very much. It's a side of you I never saw before you were turned human again."

"Do you really believe it's idiotic to try to protect someone?" Baxter asked.

"No," Barney grunted after a long moment. "But it's always better when it can be done in a way that won't harm you in turn. I guess we've both failed at that."

Baxter gave a faint, wry smile. "I guess."

Barney sighed heavily. "I was thinking today how there's so much about you I need to catch up on. In many ways, you're different from the Baxter I thought I knew. In other ways, you're still that Baxter. And today I . . . I thought I'd lost the chance to get to know the complete you. I thought of how many times I squandered that chance through the years. And I thought about when . . . when I chased you with that crowbar."

Baxter flinched at the memory. "Barney . . ."

Barney held up a hand. He didn't want to be interrupted; he might lose his nerve to continue. "I remembered when I hit you out of blind rage and only then came back to myself. I was so desperate to find a pulse and I did. Today I was desperate again to find a pulse, but I couldn't. . . ." He shook his head. "I couldn't. . . ."

"I'm so sorry, Barney," Baxter said softly.

"I wanted you back more than anything else in the world," Barney said. "So did Vincent, I know. And somehow we were allowed to have that blessing. Even though it was because you hadn't really been hit with a death ray and the effect just wore off, you can't imagine how it felt like we were witness to a miracle when you opened your eyes and spoke."

Vincent smiled at Barney. This was all very difficult for him to say; he was not accustomed to trying to calmly speak his true feelings. He was making a huge effort all on his own, without Vincent prompting him, and Vincent was very proud of him.

"Maybe in some way, it was a miracle," Vincent said. "Shredder hadn't tried that gun before. Something could have been wrong with it that it wouldn't work properly. It could have really killed you, Baxter. But it worked the way it was intended to and you were only put to sleep for a while."

"I guess you can look at it that way. . . ." Baxter looked awkward.

Barney got up and came over to the couch, sitting on Baxter's other side. "The point is that yes, I'm angry about what you did, but I appreciate that's one of the ways you've changed. And I am moved that you wanted to save your friend. Michelangelo had to be protected. I just wish it hadn't had to be done that way. Maybe part of me wanted to yell at you because of what we'd been put through because of it, but the other part just wanted to rejoice that you'd come back to us. That part won out. I won't be doing any yelling at you, Brother. If anyone deserves my fury, it's Shredder."

"I can't disagree with that," Baxter said. "But Barney? It means so very much to me that you're trying to talk to me. That you want to talk to me. And that you wanted me back so badly. I will never forget that. You've changed too. And I am so happy that I will get to continue to learn about who you are."

Barney looked awkward now. "I can't guarantee that you'll like that person. If you were anyone else, I'd say you wouldn't."

"I already like him a lot," Baxter said softly.

Barney looked away, but his eyes flickered. He was clearly touched. Finally he looked back. ". . . Vincent tells me I've already said it in my own way, but . . . I do love you, Brother."

Baxter's eyes widened in surprise. "You have said it," he agreed. "But it means a great deal to me for you to say it in this way too."

Barney nodded, still uncomfortable. But he looked happy to have said it.

"I love you too," Baxter told him.

"I know," Barney said.

For a moment they sat in silence with Vincent, marveling both at the day's turn-out and at how far they had come. Neither of them were the same people they had been at ages 18, 30, or even last month. They had changed so much. And for both of them, it had been for the better.

Michelangelo came to the doorway then. "Hey, if you guys want some dinner, I've got it fixed now," he offered. "I made sure to do normal stuff for you and Splinter."

Baxter smiled at him. "Thank you, Michelangelo." He pushed himself off the couch, stumbling a bit.

Barney reached up to steady him. "Careful," he growled. He and Vincent got up too, walking with Baxter towards the kitchen.

Michelangelo beamed with joy. "Welcome back, Bud," he said, laying a hand on Baxter's shoulder.

Baxter rested his hand on Michelangelo's wrist. "Thank you, my friend." He paused. "And thank you for not giving up, even when it seemed hopeless."

"Hey, I just wasn't willing to let my compadre go like that," Michelangelo said. "You mean too much to me."

"To all of us," Leonardo interjected. "Way back when we thought you were dead on the Technodrome, we first started to realize that you were going to be a loyal ally after all. You were already becoming our friend, but it took that sacrifice for us to really see what path you were going to take with your second chance. We were sad to lose you then too, but it wasn't like it was tonight."

Donatello nodded. "Now, you've really become part of our family. To lose you hurts too bad, just like if it was any of the rest of us."

Baxter looked overwhelmed. "I . . . don't know what to say."

"Just say you're never gonna scare us like that again," Raphael said, only half-sardonically.

"I won't, if I can possibly help it," Baxter retorted.

The Turtles gathered around him, all embracing him in brotherhood and friendship. Standing to the side, Splinter caught Barney's eye and smiled.

Barney folded his arms, a faint smile on his lips. Baxter had said recently that he was rich for so many people to care what happened to him. Barney had to agree.

Vincent was thrilled. "Baxter deserves this, no matter what he thinks," he said to Barney.

"Yes," Barney nodded. "He does."