Hello everyone…*gulp!* Thanks so much for your patience after what's been an inexcusably long time between updates. I was badly injured last year and unable to do any lengthy sitting and typing at a computer for a long time. I'm ok now, I'm back in the game and excited to bring you this chapter (after having had to re-read the whole story myself!). We are starting out this portion in the world only previously seen in Raphael's memories and dreams. Um… and there might be a little cliffy at the end, but I won't be quite so mean about the update this time!

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It was three o' clock in the morning. The Lair was completely still; the only sign of inhabitance was an eerie blue light seeping from beneath the door of one of the lower-level rooms. On the table in that room, a half-filled mug of stale coffee that had long ago lost its steam was perched on a pile of books next to the monitor. For once, the green, three-fingered hand that groped blindly for the mug in the wee hours of the morning did not belong to Donatello. Eye ridges furrowed above his blue mask, Leonardo gazed at the screen. Though his eyes were focused, alight with desperation as they scanned the information displayed before him, the hollowness around them betrayed his exhaustion.

He didn't even know what he was looking for anymore, after so much time had passed. It had been one month. Thirty-one days since he and his remaining brothers had last seen Raphael. That first morning, the hot-headed turtle hadn't shown up for practice and Leo had stormed into his room. He had begun his lecture on punctuality before he'd even made it through the door, but ceased abruptly when he found his audience to be an empty bed.

That first day, Leonardo hadn't understood. There had been no fight. Raphael had been amiable enough at dinner the evening before, joking around with Michelangelo despite his sullen attitude of late. On their rooftop patrol later that night, all had been relatively quiet. They had turned in early. Leonardo could not make sense out of Raphael's sudden absence on that particular morning.

Master Splinter had consented for them to cancel practice. Donatello had called April, and asked if she and Casey would drop by. The technologically-savvy turtle then busied himself scanning internet news reels from the past twelve hours for any odd phenomena. Mikey's worry carried with it an impressive dose of nervous energy. He tried numerous methods of occupying himself that day, but succeeded only in annoying his older brothers.

That evening, under cover of darkness, they began the search for their missing brother. The search was fruitless, and the three brothers returned heavy-hearted. Each had silently carried a spark of hope that Raphael would be waiting in the lair for them when they returned. Each was disappointed. The next morning they resumed their training, but immediately after a forced breakfast, the search was on. And so it went, for thirty-one days.

Leonardo, whose constant vigilance of everything around him was second almost to none, heard his brother coming before he stepped into the room. He didn't turn from the screen before him, but didn't flinch when Donatello laid a hand gently on his shoulder.

"Do I need to ask if you've found anything?"

Leo turned, to find his purple-banded brother taking a draught from his own cup of coffee. The dullness within his hollow eyes was answer enough. Donatello nodded once, his expression solemn.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. I just don't get it, Leo. I know we have enemies that would do their best to keep us under wraps, but you can't just hold on to someone like Raphael for a month without SOMETHING leaking through. He's just too hard to control, right? And besides that, I don't know. I mean, he can't have just disappeared off the face of the earth."

Leonardo didn't point out his brother's obvious omission. None of them were willing to accept, under any circumstances, the possibility that Raphael was dead. He supposed it would eventually be his responsibility to ease his younger siblings into considering that option. VERY eventually. For now, he planned to do everything within his power to ensure that day would never come. Eyes hardening, he returned his gaze to the computer monitor with a somewhat renewed determination.

Donatello pulled up a chair next to his older brother.

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Michelangelo awoke with a yawn, stretching as he slid out of bed. Blindly flailing for the doorknob, he grabbed it, left the bedroom and felt his way groggily towards the kitchen. On the way he saw a bright light emanating from under the door in Donatello's laboratory. Ever curious, he poked his head in the door, stifling another yawn, to see what the genius turtle was doing so early in the morning. He could just barely make out his brother's purple headband behind the stack of papers and a glass bowl on his desk.

"Mornin', Donnie, whatcha doin'?"

Donatello looked up from the papers in which he was engrossed. "Oh, hi Mikey, look I'm really busy this morning, ok? Did you need something?"

"Nah, Raph talked me into an early spar session with him this morning. I'm about to go find him but I was just going to fortify myself with some caffeine first."

Donatello cocked his head slightly. "Mikey, the last thing you need is a jolt of caffeine first thing in the morning. You'd better leave that requirement to more mild-mannered individuals, such as myself. Besides, you don't have to go looking for Raph, he's right here."

Confused, Michelangelo's eyes darted around the room for a second before he realized that Donatello was pointing to the glass bowl he'd spied before. Looking more closely, Mikey could make out the figure of a small turtle swimming around in the enclosure. He glanced back up at his purple-banded brother, eye ridges furrowed.

"Donne, what the shell? Is this your idea of a…"

Donatello cut him off. "It's no joke, Mikey. Leo and I talked it over and we decided Raphael was too much of a danger to this family in his mutant form. The way he was going on about the Foot and some chemical they'd stolen, he was bound to get us all killed one day. We figured it was safer this way, so I took a little sample of the TCRI mutagen I happened to have lying around, and found a way to reverse it. He never even felt the transformation, I injected him while he was asleep. Look how happy he is now.

Michelangelo was staring at the glass bowl, too horrified to speak, when he detected movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning toward the doorway, he saw Leonardo looming there with his hands on his hips. He greeted the orange-banded turtle with a slight nod of affirmation. "Sorry we didn't let you in on the decision, Mikey, but we didn't think you'd really have an objective opinion about it. We'll definitely let you share responsibility for him though, how about you go and get some pellets from that pet shop over in Chinatown? Here's some cash.

Leonardo started towards his youngest sibling with his hand held out, revealing a ten-dollar bill tucked neatly between two fingers. As he approached, Michelangelo realized that his eyes were glowing an eerie red, then turned to a bright, searing white. Leonardo began to laugh, a deep, mechanical sound that sent shivers coursing down Mikey's spine…

Michelangelo awoke with a start, covered in perspiration, eyes darting frantically around the room. Just as he felt his heartbeat slow to something approaching its normal resting rate, he glanced at the doorway and saw Leonardo looming there with his hands on his hips, sending it thudding into his chest wall again.

Leo took one step into the room, concern etched on his features. "Mikey, are you alright? I came by to see if you wanted to get in on this brainstorming session, and it sounded like you were thrashing around in here. Nightmare?"

Michelangelo just stared at his brother, blue eyes opened wide in residual alarm. He did not venture to speak.

Leonardo shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond to his youngest brother's uncharacteristic silence. "Look, why don't you take a few minutes to get your bearings before you join us, ok? I know how hard this has been on you, on all of us."

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By the time Michelangelo had joined his two brothers in Donatello's lab, they were deep in a discussion about whether the Foot could have been to blame for Raphael's disappearance. Mikey, having calmed down considerably, sighed deeply as he heaved himself into the remaining empty chair. The way he saw it, they were just running laps in endless circles in their minds by this point.

"Believe me, if they'd have known anything, they would have told us," Leonardo said darkly, unconsciously reaching back with one hand and feeling for a katana handle, as if to assure himself it was still there.

The Turtles would never resort to torturing an enemy, no matter how dire the circumstances. Bushido, their code of honor, forbade it. No one knew this better than Leonardo. However, he reflected, that didn't stop them from doing everything in their power to generate an unholy fear in the hearts of their enemies, especially when a member of their family was threatened. No one knew that better than Raphael.

The Foot soldiers they'd apprehended the previous week would have talked if they'd had anything to offer, Leonardo was sure of that. Having little understanding of honor themselves, they could only expect the worst when three mutant turtles loomed, brandishing their weapons, faces contorted with fury and grief. The interrogation sessions had been frustrating, because the soldiers were, without doubt, telling the truth. The only way the Shredder and Karai could have been involved with Raphael's disappearance was for them to have kept his capture a secret from their own, and…

Leonardo paused in thought.

"Donny, call me crazy, but since we're all out of ideas I guess I'm willing to scrape the bottom of the barrel a little bit."

Donatello tore his gaze from the online news reel and gazed patiently at his older brother. Mikey raised an eye ridge, but didn't voice his thoughts. Leo taking shots in the dark? This ought to be good.

Leonardo continued, his expression earnest. "Hear me out on this, guys. What if the Shredder and Karai have Raphael, but no one else knows about it, not even their own Foot ninja. What if they are keeping him a secret? I mean, this could be a little piece of good news in a way. If they are responsible for his disappearance, then he's most likely alive. If they'd killed him, they'd find every way they could to broadcast that to us. Destroy us emotionally, to make us easier to defeat. Maybe they're using him for something else, something important, and they dare not risk interruption."

Donatello looked doubtful. "I don't know, Leo… since when would the Shredder waste a chance to get his hands on all four of us? Furthermore, you know it would require more than a handful of Foot to take Raph down. What would he and Karai do, destroy their own flunkies? That'd be like that old adage – cutting off your nose to spite your face. Where's the sense in that?"

While Donatello was reasoning aloud, Mikey had suddenly remembered a fragment of something from his dream. Something that his subconscious's demented version of his brainy brother had said. The youngest turtle was becoming more and more fidgety, until Leo thought he was going to come crashing out of his seat. However, he let Donatello finish before bursting out excitedly with his opinion.

"No, wait, that's it! Don't you guys get it?! Raph had been on about those Foot dudes for weeks! He kept saying they had some big plans for this chemical they had stolen, and that we'd better get involved before it was too late, remember? But Leo, you said it wasn't our fight, that the cops were looking into it, and Raph kept getting madder and madder, 'til you guys had that blow-up about it. He was quiet about it for the next week, and we all thought he'd gotten over it. Our bad, I bet he just up and decided to go after them himself!"

Leonardo stared at his youngest brother. "Mikey, you're right, you've got to be. I can't believe we didn't think of it before. I just… I just got so focused on the search for clues after he vanished that I didn't even consider everything leading up to that point. Huh, you'd think I'd be used to his crazy reckless decision-making, for what it's worth, by now." At this, Leo's eye ridges furrowed deeply in frustration, and he let out a world-weary sigh. "I thought I knew Raph better than that…"

Donatello laid a hand on Leo's shoulder, offering reassurance. "Hey, Leo, take it easy. You're not the only one who wants to take responsibility, who wants to take part in finding Raph, ok? Give us our due – we are all in this together, and that includes the dead ends and the successes."

Mikey nodded vigorously in affirmation. "Yeah, Dude! No time for the guilt trip routine, we've got an axis of evil headquarters to infiltrate! So c'mon Fearless Leader, as Raph would say, let's go kick some shell! Waaahhoooooo!"

The last word trailing in his wake, Mikey sprinted off, making a beeline for his nunchaku.

Leonardo looked at Donatello and smiled. "You know, somehow that just didn't sound right coming from Mikey, but you've got to give him points for enthusiasm."

Donatello laughed, a rich, sincere sound that had been far too infrequent in the Lair over the past few weeks.

Leo, however, had already turned serious once again. Almost too quietly for Donatello to hear, he muttered something about Raph being in for the chewing-out of a lifetime, once he was safe and sound.

Donatello spared a long look at his older brother, in the midst of gathering old notes and blueprints of the Foot Headquarters he'd retained from previous missions. "Leo, he's been gone for a month. Let's just get him back, ok? I know you're frustrated, and that you're only worried about his safety, but he may need our support more than ever once we are reunited. Who knows what kind of trouble he's gotten himself into this time."

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He was floating through the vast silence of space. All around him, pinpoints of light shimmered, stars that rested unimaginable distances away. There was one star directly in front of him, however, that he figured he could reach if he tried hard enough. The brilliant ball of sunlight beckoned him, promising warmth, whispering of eternal peace. He extended first one arm, and then the other, towards the light, wishing more than anything to feel its rays on his face. However, even as he reached for it, he saw it recede into the distance, maddeningly unattainable. One by one, all the other stars flickered out, until he was entombed in complete darkness.

He felt a searing sensation, as though being struck by a thousand tiny bolts of lightning, and wondered fleetingly if the stars had not disappeared and had, in fact, attacked him. Then, he heard a heartbeat. Then another. They were his heartbeats. He hadn't realized until that moment that they had been absent.

He heard voices, tinny, distant. He could not understand what they were saying.

"Hey, looks like that did it. Check it out, there are normal QRS waves on the ECG now, see what I mean? What's his oximetry reading? Yeah, that's going up too, it's almost to 100% now. I think we've got him back, folks, good job."

"Excellent work, Dr. Chaplin, I'd had to think what would happen if we'd lost him at this point. We must see if we can extract the information my father has been seeking, and from what I understand that does require him to be alive."

"Oh, not to worry, Mistress, everything is under control! We just need to give him a little bit of time to readjust to being out in the environment, since he's been in that comatogen for a month already, and…"

"How MUCH time, Dr. Chaplin? That, as you may know, is a very precious commodity right now."

"Oh, I'd say if we give him a few hours on fluids, nothing solid of course right now… then he should be able to withstand interrogation by then. We just need to get him out of this stuff so he can begin re-acclimating, and…"

"Fine, but he'll have to handle restraint as of now. I have long since learned with these turtles to expect the extraordinary at all times."

He detected the sounds of two different individuals in conversation, but their words had no meaning to him. He could see nothing, and so was rather startled when he suddenly felt himself being lifted up and carried. The air on his skin was uncomfortably cold, causing him to shiver. He struggled weakly during his enforced movement, but was easily manipulated onto a firm surface. He slipped once more into unconsciousness. He did not dream.

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Raphael awoke with a start. The first thing he noticed was that he could see nothing. Fear gripped him, even as he hoped that his blindness was environmental, not physiological. The second thing he noticed was that he could not move any of his limbs. Feeling around with his hands, he determined that he was on a metal table of some sort. He began to panic, having no idea where he was, or even what dimension he was in. Not knowing what else to do, he initiated some deep breathing exercises that his Master had enforced at the beginning of every training session they'd had since they were little… wait, what?

His Master. Training exercises. They. His deep breaths became shallow with excitement as memories poured into his mind, almost overwhelming him with relief over their familiarity. It felt like he hadn't been aware of them for a long time. Master Splinter's teachings. Busting heads with Casey. Pizza with weird ingredients. Smacking Mikey upside the head. Working on his bike with Donatello. Sparring with… Leonardo. At the thought of his older brother, unpleasant recent history shortly followed in his mind.

Shell. I was tryin' to get everyone on my page to go after the Foot for stealin' that stuff. Leo told me to stand down. We had a fight, and then a week later I came out to the Foot Headquarters to try and… Shell.

Suddenly he realized his current predicament with brilliant clarity.

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Raphael had not been awake for five minutes when Karai burst through the door, Dr. Chaplin at her heels. The scientist reached back to turn on the lights, and Raphael realized with enormous satisfaction that his vision was perfectly intact. His mind sharpened as the burden of questioning his senses lifted. Watching the pair cross the room towards him, he got an idea.

Dr. Chaplin whipped a penlight from his lab coat pocket and used it to examine Raphael's eyes and pupillary reflexes. He began collecting information about the turtle's other vital signs and making notes on a pad and clipboard. Raphael kept his eyes unfocused, and at most made a few weak evasive movements throughout the examination. The scientist paused when he got to Raphael's mouth, hesitating, thinking that information about the prisoner's mucous membrane color would not be worth losing two or three fingers. Karai's impatient glare sent him back into forward motion, and taking a deep breath, he lifted the turtle's lip for the oral exam. Raphael continued to stare dully into space, gently turning his head away from the source of the intrusion. Wrinkling his brow, Dr. Chaplin waved his hand in front of the turtle's face.

"Uh, Mistress, everything's checking out, except… well, he doesn't seem mentally responsive. He's alert enough that I would have expected some type of intelligent interaction by now, and, well, we're just not getting it."

Karai stared suspiciously at Raphael, one eyebrow arched. She spoke to Dr. Chaplin without taking her eyes off the mutant turtle. "Get your blood sample, then we'll look further into this… problem." Without warning the female ninja reached forward and released Raphael's left arm.

It took everything Raphael had not to jerk his arm away during the phlebotomy procedure, especially since Dr. Chaplin was so jumpy it was a wonder that he came within feet of the vein. Raphael longed to use his freed limb to release the other restraints and attack his captors. He kept telling himself that everything relied upon his plan, if he only had the patience to carry it out. Too bad I got that in such short supply.

Dr. Chaplin had obtained his sample without any trouble, but replaced Raphael's arm in the restraint and looked to his employer's daughter, waiting for further instructions.

Karai leaned in close, her lashes almost brushing Raphael's face as she stared him down for some time, looking for a spark of recognition. With intense effort, he kept his features expressionless, in spite of the intrusion into his personal space. Karai whispered, her sour breath betraying that she had been awake for long hours. "So, we brought you back only to lose your mind in the process. How unfortunate for us, but much more so for you." She turned her back to Raphael, focusing on her companion. "Dr. Chaplin, it appears you have made a grave mistake. You have managed to revive Raphael, but left his spirit in another world. Now, he is of no more use to us than a harmless pet turtle. I have no need for slaves, that's what Foot soldiers are for. Therefore, prepare the lethal injection."