Just as Leonardo was about choke out the words his heart pained to say, Donatello looked once more upon the scene of the fire and exclaimed, "LOOK!"

Revealing a vast pile of debris, the turtles noticed a green, bloody three-fingered hand sticking out from beneath it. Frantically rushing over, the turtles desperately dug through the mound of ash and foundation to, hopefully, find the rest of their baby brother attached. As they dug through the heap, the three brothers called out his name: in hopes that maybe, just maybe, he'd reply. Eventually, the boys in green found two arms, two legs, and a head: all connected by a neck and bodice. Though his face was scraped, his arms and legs bruised, and his wrist broken—as it appeared to Donnie, at least— it was still Michelangelo, alright!

"Mikey," Raph called as he lifted his baby brother's upper body, "Michelangelo, buddy, answer me."

Leo waved his hand in front of Mikey's closed eyes in hopes of stirring him with no avail. Grabbing his shoulder to nudge his youngest brother awake, he whispered forcefully, "Mikey? Michelangelo, please- wake up."

"Don," Raph shouted as his intelligent brother came closer to him.

Taking his two index fingers, Donatello checked Michelangelo's vital signs for any sort of reaction. He checked… and re-checked… and re-checked.

And he stopped. He just looked at the ground. He didn't even blink.

"W-well," Raphael nudged, starring wide-eyed at the purple clad turtle.

Looking up at Leonardo and Raphael, Donatello blinked his huge, brown eyes rapidly, gasped involuntary, and closed his teary eyes as he shook his head back and forth. Unfortunately, the red and blue-clad turtle knew what this meant.

"No," Raphael mumbled quietly before bellowing an enormous, "NO!"

Hugging his little brother's limp body, Raphael sobbed violently as the others joined in suit. They didn't care that they were out in the open, completely exposing their identities! They just wanted their brother back. They felt hopeless, completely hopeless… but not for long.

Above the sound of their aggressive blubbering, they could just barely make out the sound of somebody coughing. Gasping audibly, the three turtles glanced at each other just before they found their youngest brother moaning and wheezing heavily beneath them. Though he looked miserably ill, the orange-clad turtle stretched a smile across his freckled- face as he greeted his brothers with a croaky, gravelly, "What's up, dudes?"

Cheering loudly and dog-piling Michelangelo, Leonardo and Donatello squeeze their baby brother. Before he joined the embrace, however, Raphael brutally attempted to stifle his tears of joy as he screamed in his littlest brother's face, "If you EVER scare us like that again, I'll kill ya!"

As a fit of laughter broke out among the four brothers, another fit of coughing began to rack Mikey's ash-filled lungs.

"Poor guy," Leo fussed, "We'd better get you home."

Just as a ninja should, the turtles vanished without a trace. As the cloud of dust rose, a few people inquired curiously about the pile of fragments.

"Hey," a fire man wondered, "Weren't there four giant rocks on that pile just a minute ago?"

"Nah," a policeman replied, "It's late. You're just seein' things, Barry."

Back at the sewers that night, the three brothers stayed awake the rest of the night to help nurse their little brother back to health. While Leonardo helped clean off Mikey's open wounds, Raphael assisted Donatello in bandaging his broken hand and fractured wrist. Even though the night was rough, things were about to get even rougher once the morning came…

"Let us see," a very heated Master Splinter yelled as he glared at his pupils, "Staying out three hours past curfew without a phone call, nearly exposing yourselves to the outside world… absolutely disgraceful."

"But Sensei," Leonardo began.

"'But' nothing," Splinter responded angrily, "I will not have any 'buts' today."

Giggling quietly, Michelangelo quickly slapped his bandaged hand over his mouth.

"You find this funny," the old rat snapped at his youngest son, "Well, let me ask you this: Do you find being grounded for three months 'funny'?"

Above the groaning and grumbling, Michelangelo tried desperately to grab the attention of his master. However, since his voice was still gravelly and hoarse from the smoke, he had to attempt a different approach. Taking his good hand, Mikey stuck his forefinger and thumb between his cheeks, and let out a whistle that hushed the entire room. Knowing what he needed to say, the orange-clad hero cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Sens-ei," Michelangelo choked out as loudly as his voice would permit him, "It there's gotta be a punishment… punish me. Not them."

Unsure of what Michelangelo was doing, the other three turtles just stared at their little brother in awe as Master Splinter quirked his eyebrow inquisitively.

"But my son," the rodent-Sensei responded, "Why place this heavy burden solely on your shoulders?"

"Bec-a-use," Mikey replied as his voice cracked, "It's my fault. I'm the one that rushed back in there after we saved those people. A-and if I d-iiid-n't, we would have been home on time… and we wouldn't have threatened our identities."

"That reminds me, Michelangelo," Splinter inquired, "Why did you run back in there in the first place?"

'Aw, man," Mikey thought to himself, 'If I tell him the truth, he's never gonna believe me! Gotta think, gotta think…"

"Uhhh," the orange-clad turtle began, "I, er, I thought I left my sh-ell-phone behind."

Confused by this, the turtles looked at one another. Splinter only shook his head.

"Extremely foolish, Michelangelo," the rat sighed, "Material things are replaceable. You are not. I… I am quite disappointed in you, my son."

"You sh-ou-ld be, Sen-"

"No, you shouldn't be, Sensei."

Wondering why his eldest brother interrupted him, Michelangelo jolted his head to find the blue-clad turtle looking his father straight in the eye.

"Master Splinter," Leonardo began, "Michelangelo's a hero! The real reason he ran back into that building is because there was a little girl who was trapped in there."

"She couldn't've been more than about five, Sensei," Donnie joined in, "And she was the only one left in there before the whole thing caved in. And her mother-"

"Her mother was a wreck," Raphael added, "Master Splinter, if you saw how scared this woman looked… She was in a mad panic! And what worse- the whole place was blocked off. Nobody was allowed to go in there and save her. And if Mikey didn't go in a-and do what he did-"

"That poor mother would've had to watch her own daughter die, Father," Leo started up again, "Now just imagine, Master Splinter, if you were that mother, and one of us was trapped in a burning building. And there was nothing- absolutely nothing- you could do about it… Wouldn't you want somebody to save us, Master Splinter?"

The old rat imagined the horrifying scenario play before his very eyes, and he was instantly taken back to the days of his human-life with Miwa and Tao-Shen. While a blazing fire burned through his memory, tears stung his beady eyes as he looked as his battle-scarred son.

"Michelangelo," Splinter began angrily.

Cringing in trepidation, Mikey awaited the punishment he thought he was about to receive: only to be pleasantly surprised by a gentle embrace from his father.

"That was a very noble thing you did, my son," Splinter said quietly, "But you are very, very lucky. You could have died, Michelangelo… I must urge you that, yes- it is very well and good to do the right thing…which you did."

"Alr-iii-ght," Mikey cheered with his voice, once again, cracking.

"But," Splinter frowned as he waggled a long, bony finger.

"I thought he wasn't having any today," Donnie whispered to Leonardo with a laugh.

"Hai," Splinter chanted abruptly before relocating his path of thought, "But- you must be careful in the process. Be wise, and be mindful of the dangers ahead before you dive into them. Because, my son… and I mean this for all of you to comprehend… if something were to happen to you, I could not live with myself. I love you my sons, and I want the very best for you. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes," Michelangelo replied as he bowed to his master.

"Yes, Sensei," Leonardo responded.

"Indubitably," Donatello countered brightly.

As the boys awaited Raphael's reply, the three turtles glanced over to find their brother sniveling and trying to stop himself from crying again. This had been a very emotional twenty-four hour time-span for the hot-head!

"C-crystal, Sensei," Raphael garroted out against the lump in his throat.

"Aww," Mikey giggle with a cough, "How cute: Raph's cr-y-ying."

"Yeah, yeah," Raphael retorted angrily, "Just shut it, Squeaky, unless you want me to break your other hand."

"Oh, yeah," Mikey began, "W-well, hu-hem! Well if you're s-so, heck-hmm! Ugh, so tough, then why don'tcha j-just, h-uck-huck-hem! H-hurrck, huurck, hurrm-"

"Oh boy," Donnie sighed as Michelangelo started up again with another coughing fit, "Here he goes again."

"H-hey, D-hon," Mikey struggled to say through his fit, "Y-you remember that inhaler you made me a while back 'cuz ya said I needed it? Yeah, um… I know it's a little late, but… I think you might've been right."