Okay, so this isn't one of our best chapters. I've been really sick and suffering from severe writers block.

But dont worry, she's gettin bettah every second of every day because of Mushrooms and Grandmothers -laughs-

Leo got ahold of our 7th chapter and messed it up :(

I did the first section until he goes to see Don, thats all her. And then I did the Leo Don scene until Don goes to Raph, then its her. The everybody scene after that is her as well. That last cut is Mine. And thats it. Lol.

Mike's fingers feathered gently over the dusty covers of the soft paperback comic books, the bright reds and blues standing out in a blotched picture. He knew what the cover looked like from memory, that the white and blue splotch in the middle was Silver Sentry and the stunning red behind him was the hair of a tall beautiful woman, a damsel in distress. Lastly the dark area in the top right corner was the villain, bright red eyes and one wicked sword of a weapon. He knew that the brilliant white slightly curved line at the top was the title of the comic and, although not picked up by his eyes, that there was a number and title of this certain book just under that.

It was not the same anymore, though. Sure, he could quote the comic probably almost line by line, but what good would that be if he could not see the expressions of the little drawings that were attached to the bubbles? How could he enjoy it if he could not see the damsel's pained expression right before the villain was about to drop her and how heroic Sentry looks when he grabs her out of the air and topples the villain in the same move? It was simply not the same.

With a huff he snatched the dusty pile and put it in a drawer of his chest (not like he had clothes to store there anyways) and closed it, fingers lingering on the handle for a moment before he jerked it away, twisting his body around to his door in the same moment. He would never truly read comics again; it was part of the past, like crawling in bed with Splinter after a nightmare. Something that he had to learn to grow out of, and although it would be a struggle, he knew that he could do it.

Maybe I'll take Donny up on that rail or hail or whatever it was called. Mike pondered this for a moment as he threw himself on his bed, no longer afraid of hitting his head against the frame. He had never been a fan of novels, too long, too much info, not enough pictures. If he learned to read on his own it would give him some independence, not to forget something else to do besides sit around and train.

Michelangelo spent another few minutes pondering the idea of learning how to read with those little bumps that formed letters and thus words, which made up stories. He knew that Don would be glad to teach him, even if Don himself had to learn at the same time (Mike wondered if that was true, Donny probably already knew how to read using Braille, that insanely smart freak of a turtle).

The TV turned on and he heard the distinct sound of the couch groaning under a heavy weight as it slammed upon the poor, unsuspecting piece of furniture. Raph must be done with physical training… With a grunt Mike pulled himself off of the bed and made his way towards his door. Might as well entertain myself by buggin' him then.

Humming some unknown tune Mikey made his way swiftly down the stairs, now so used to it that he could do it blindfolded (hah, like that would make much of a difference) and since he always, no matter what, walked on the side with the wall (that he ran his hand down as he went) the others now tended to walk on the other side, not wanting to crash into him as he confidently zipped down to the main floor. This time there was no turtles other then himself on the stairs so the transition from the second to the first floor was smooth.

He stopped once at the bottom swept his eyes around, locking onto things for a moment before moving around and locking onto another thing. Mikey was taking inventory, placing objects that he could see and spotting siblings that he could spot. Raph was, as suspected, on the couch, his bald dark green head and shoulders poking up as he sat on it the couch, his feet probably on the coffee table. Don was no were to be seen but if he listened close enough he could hear the sound of metal clinking against metal, a sure sign that the genius of the family was tinkering with something or another in his lab.

Lastly his eyes found Leo, sitting at the kitchen table with a grayed blur in front of him. Newspaper, his mind supplied him as he tracked his way into the kitchen. Leo did not shift the paper in his hands when he heard Mike approach but did glance up as his brother's unfocused eyes locked onto the area around his own body. There was that smile on Mikey's face, one that he was so utterly and absolutely happy to see, but one that also set his defenses on high. When Mike smiled that smile something was up.

"Hey, Leo…" Mikey asked as he sat down at the kitchen table, his hands fumbling to pull the chair out but quickly grabbed it and yanked it outward, settling down in the wooden object. He felt Leo's gaze on him (of course not seeing those hazel eyes peer out at him, details that small were easily missed to Mike now) and continued, "Can I get a dog?"

One tired sigh later he got a reply, "You have Klunk, Mikey, why do we need a dog?"

"Because Klunk can't open doors or pick up objects or take me through the sewers or help me up the stairs or guild me across the street or help me get my Shell Cell or assist me in gra-"

"No, Mike, you can't have a dog." Leo cut him short of his long-winded explanation, and put his paper on the table with a soft rustle. Mike pouted for a moment, sticking his lower lip out throwing his blind gaze downwards before looking back up at Leonardo with a glint in his eyes.

"… Can I put a leash on Raph and call it good?" Mikey asked, his face lighting up in a dopy smile as an annoyed "HEY!" came from the living room.

"If you think it would help you, Mike." Leo said, not able to contain a small smile at the comment and allowing a tip of his lips to twitch upwards.

"That is SO not happenin' Mikey! You com'n here wit ANYTHIN' rope like I'll kick your lil ass!"

"Hah!" Mikey exclaimed loudly so it would reach Raphael with ease, "You can hardly lift your foot, much less get it my sexy butt!" and laughed loudly as he elected an extremely annoyed growl from the living room.

"Well why don you come in 'ere and back up yer mouth, pretty boy!" Raph was now fully twisted around in the couch, his dark eyes glaring at Mike and Leo as they sat in the kitchen. It was all in fun and games though, and he was just playing along. Having the real Mikey back was a pain in the ass, but he enjoyed it nonetheless.

Mikey only smiled, holding back a giggle at the idea of Raphael on a leash, and then left the table with a quick 'see you later' at Leo.

Although he had not heard the door open, Don could sense someone else was in the lab. He assumed it was Mikey, because the intruder was silent and seemed to move slowly. Mike still had a little bit of trouble with Don's lab, mostly because everything was constantly moving, new piles of this and that would appear in places they weren't yesterday, and piles that had been there for ages suddenly weren't scrap metal just laying around anymore, proudly displayed somewhere Mike couldn't locate anymore.

"Hey, Donny?"

"Yes?" He hummed, not yet looking up from whatever it was he was tinkering with.

Mikey hesitated. He felt the side of the wall and when his finger bumped the light switch, a blueprint of Don's lab began to materialize in his mind from memory. Okay, straight ahead, there should be a counter, a pile of junk to the left, and then Don's computer desk and chair.

He realized he must have been thinking far too long because Don stopped tinkering and was staring at him from the other side of what he knew was a counter.

"You 'member when you said you could whip me up some of those funky little stories with the dots?" He asked slowly, his eyes rising towards the ceiling as if he were having trouble recalling exactly what Don had told him.

"Braille, yes. I remember." He said, his attention shifting from what he had been fiddling with a second prior to his brother. "What about them?"

"You… think you could still do that for me?"

"Sure!" He smiled and nodded, although he knew Mike couldn't see it. He called Mike over and when he had reached the where Don had been standing; he patted the countertop lightly, indicating that he wanted Mikey to move just a bit closer, which he did.

These past few months had been horrid, Donny informed Leo that Mike's vision would probably not ever fully recover, and Leo in turn had voiced his concerns on Mike's obvious depression and personality changes. They had kept careful watch on him, every day being met with this quieter, more somber version of their sibling. It had bothered them all greatly.

Don gave a brief explanation of the history of Braille and how just like Sign Language, it differed in other parts of the world. Also how there were different types of Braille, some for shorthand typing, some for mathematics, there were even special typewriters in Braille.

He went on to explain that Braille could easily be viewed as the world's first Binary scheme for representing the characters of a writing system. Mikey didn't seem to be interested in this part, or the part that Don rattled off next. Something about computers and a bunch of 1's and 0's.

"Uh, Don?" Mike interjected, his face clearly showing that he was far beyond confusion. If I'm already confused and this is just the start... He held back the quick feeling that shot through him, screaming at him to run away from this before he gets too angered and sat it out until it passed, fingers fiddling with each other in his lap.

Don blinked and glanced up, seemingly unaware that he had gone into lecture mode. With a soft laugh he shook his head and patted Mike on the shoulder, then darted away to his desk. "Oh, right. Sorry, I got carried away. Now… This is going to seem confusing at first, but only because you didn't grow up with this system."

Mike could hear him shuffling papers around and what sounded like bits of wobbly plastic that could imitate the sound of thunder if jiggled just so. A few seconds later Don shoved a rather thin sheet of what felt like plastic into his hand.

"What's THIS?"

Don smiled and shrugged a little, not wanting to sound offended, although he knew it wasn't the fanciest thing he'd ever created. "Well, it's all I could come up with on such short notice. I made this as kind of a prototype the first time I mentioned it to you, but you didn't seem interested, so I haven't made anything better. This'll have to do for now, though."

Leading Mike by the shoulders Don sat him down in his computer chair, cleared the clutter out of the way and set the sheet of plastic down. Mikey cocked a brow when Don grabbed his hand and let his fingers run along the surface of the plastic, a dumbfounded look on his face.

"Uh. Wow, okay. I thought they were gunna like… wouldn't it just be easier to like, have dots in the shape of an A?" Mike frowned as he felt the weird little bumps under is fingers, not at all happy that they didn't make themselves useful and just spell out letters he could recognize.

"Then it wouldn't be Braille. That would be tracing letters."

Mike wheeled around and questioned why he couldn't just do that, then, learn to trace letters, saying it would be much easier and quicker. Don did not share his enthusiasm, however, and reminded Mikey of how large and stubby their fingers were, explaining that in order for Mike to trace letters with his fingers, the letters would have to be huge and engraved in a large sheet of plastic. This would be both illogical and wasteful.

Mike huffed and pushed away from the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. He couldn't help but think this was a bad idea; maybe he should have just let sleeping dogs lie.

"I'm never going to learn this, Don!" He whined, tilting his head back and forth irritably.

"You also claimed you were never going to use the stairs again."

Touché, Donny.

Mike only groaned in response. The prospect of learning now seeming quite fruitless. Why had he bothered to ask Don? He was getting along fine without those stupid picture books, wasn't he? It angered him that something as simple as a comic book had caused him this much anguish. He just wanted something more to fill his time!

He should have known nothing involving Don could possibly be easy.

"Come on now, Mike," Don's voice had become a bit sterner than before, as if he were talking to an unwilling child. "I promise you, once you give it a little bit of practice, you'll be speed reading. And if you like it, I'll make more for you. Okay?"

Sighing and allowing his shoulders to dip a little, Mike nodded. He straightened out and placed his fingers on the sheet of paper, reminding himself whining wasn't going to get him anywhere. "Okay, so is this an actual story, or what?"

"It's the alphabet. Okay now. Feel that? Each letter is kind of like the face of a domino," he tried to put it into terms Mike would be able to grasp more easily. "But with six holes. Now, depending on which dot or dots are raised indicates which letter you're looking over. One raised bump over here in the left corner," he explained, letting Mike feel it, "is A. B is pretty much the same, but with another bump directly under it. Understand?"

"How do you know?"

"Well, I mean … it is the alphabet." Mike looked a little hurt for a moment, his shoulders falling forward and his hand that hovered over the letters going lax, knowing he should have realized that, but grinned when Don added, "Plus, I marked in which letters were which with a marker."

Once they had gotten through A-J, Don attempted to explain that dot 3 was added to each of the A-J symbols, thus giving you K-T, and that next, both of the bottom dots (dots 3 and 6) were added to the symbols for A, to create U, V, X, Y, and Z.

"Wait..." Mike arched an eye ridge and wrinkled his face up in confusion. "Where's 'W'?"

"Since the inventor of Braille was a Frenchman, and the letter W pretty much wasn't used in French around that time, 'W' was kind of left out."

"Well that's… Onderful."

They sat and went through the alphabet over and over again until Don could place Mike's finger on an individual letter and he could recall it from memory, even if it took a few moments sometimes. Once or twice he froze up and forgot, but Don quickly reminded him to keep everything moving smoothly.

While any hope for Michelangelo's sight returning to normal seemed slim, he hoped that giving Mike the chance to be able to read on his own again might offer a sense of confidence that would possibly help him walk into the dojo next time even more sure of himself than the last. Not all hope had been lost; during his downtime Donatello had also begun doing research online, and had found plenty of information on fully or nearly blind people who participated in all different kinds of sports and physical activities, including martial arts. He had even read one article that argued that blind children often picked things up much faster than sighted students.

His hopes were high for his brother. Michelangelo had the physical skills mastered; he only now needed to learn a different way of applying what he already knew.

"Hey, Don, this is kinda-" Mike's voice fell short as his fingers fumbled along the plastic for a moment, locating the two dots next to each other (c) the three dots that formed an arrow facing right, twice (o, o) and finally the three dots horizontally in a row (l).

Leo sat at the couch in a perfect posture, s always. His feet lay flat on the floor, aligned with his knees and his hips were set at a ninety degree angle, shoulders relaxed but still straight and square, and the weight of his head balanced nicely on his neck, his chin parallel with the ground. The television in front of him was turned on and the volume set low, he did not need it blaring like his brothers were so fond of doing, and his hazel eyes locked onto the screen as a petite blond read from a prompt.

"-inds up to seventy miles per hour or more and expecting over three inches of rain, this storm will be a dozy, Manhattan. It is recommended that everybody get inside and stay inside, put new batteries in your flashlights and pile up on the blankets"

The little lady then turned to the man beside her and they rattled on about the stock market taking another big fall, but Leo turned a deaf ear to it and made his way to Don's lab were the turtle was currently working on the toaster once more. He silently opened the door and when Donatello did not respond he knocked against the doorframe. Don jumped and twisted around in the computer chair of which he sat. Leo smiled gently, "Hey, Don. Am I interrupting?"

"No Leo, not at all. Need something?" Don asked, putting whatever gizmo he held in his hand down on his desk with a soft 'clank' and then folded his hands gently in his lap. He sure seemed to be Mr. Popularity lately.

"A storms coming in tonight," Leo started and Don nodded, he had heard something about a big storm coming a few days ago.

"Yeah, I was going to take Raph with me to close up the valves in a few minutes, do we need to get on that right now?" Leo nodded as Donny had before and Don got off of his chair and placed his shell cell in his belt, grabbing the Bo Staff that leaned against the wall and slipped it on his back.

"Oh hey. Guess what." Don said, smiling wide enough to show teeth. He had meant to tell Leo later that night but might as well do it now, as Leonardo was standing right in front of him. Leo gave him a long lasting look before half way rolling his eyes and giving out a sighed "Hum?"

"Mikey came to me to learn some Braille, he's already got down the alphabet and with some more practice he will be putting words together in no time." His smile spread enough that it rivaled Michelangelo when he won a game.

"That's fantastic Donny!" Leo also shared a warm smile; happiness blossoming in his bosom that Mikey was already out of his shell so much and was still getting out that dark place he resided for three whole months.

"Ok, I'll go collect Raphael and get those sealed off," They both left the lab, Leo heading towards his own room and Don, after a quick glance around, headed towards the Dojo where Raph was currently punching his tattered bag.

After nearly three months of silence, Don found the sound of Raphael wailing on his punching bag to be somewhat comforting, and if he had had the time, he might have stayed outside the door just a little bit longer and just listened. Those valves, however, he thoughts as he slid into the dojo, were not going to close themselves.

"Raph?"

Raph sent one last jab into the bag and then grabbed it with both hands, steadying its rocking form. Nodding to Donatello, he brushed a bit of sweat from his cheek and walked over to the dojo exit, a moment later joining Don in exiting the lair.

They began strolling through the sewer, Don making unsettled comments here and there as he noticed the sewers were already a bit more flooded than he had suspected. It was something they had to deal with constantly, living in the sewers, if they happened to sleep through a storm and it over flooded, they could lose everything all over again.

In New York, when a big storm hit, no one above even gave a second glance at the sewers, which Don though at bit preposterous. It was a sewer, for the love of god; did they want discarded trash floating around in the streets by morning? Apparently it was not that big of an issue for the average New Yorker, whose drenched loafers and ruined heels could be heard shuffling and clicking by at a hurried pace overhead.

"Sheesh'r people still up there? I tell ya, Donny, I dunno how New York ain't a ghost town. People here'r so stupid!"

With a light wave of his hand Don stepped over a floating pop can. "Obnoxious, foul-smelling, inattentive. All traits of the average New Yorker. Don't act so surprised."

"How come we ain't like that then?"

Don blinked and looked over his shoulder at Raph who blinked back, then nodded quickly. "Ohright. Mikey."

Since no one gave the sewers a second thought, Don often had to go out and do this himself. He supposed this was better than sending people down to do it; running the risk of being spotted, and any automatic valve-closers were also out of the question, because that would mean construction, and more people. This was like changing Klunk's litter box, no one wanted to do it, but it had to be done You could only ignore it for so long before you were knee-deep in yesterdays garbage. He was a bit relieved when Raphael actually volunteered to help him, assuming he would say no and Don would have to beg Leo instead.

"How much farther, Donny?"

Raph wondered why he had agreed to come with Don. He knew a storm was rolling in, but he had had no idea that it was going to be this bad. The grates were flooded, water gushing in from the left and the right, carrying pieces of newspaper and cigarette butts, they even spotted a few larger items such as cups and soggy hotdogs float by.

"It's just up ahead."

When they were kids, a horrible storm had rolled in and pelted New York with gallon after gallon of rainwater. Eventually the sewers had gotten so flooded that Splinter, the water up to his waist by that point, had had to lead his boys through the sewer junction, looking for a safe spot to rest for the night. They ended up spending the night in an old warehouse, keeping warm by huddling around a barrel of fire like a bunch of bums.

They had lost everything, which at the time hadn't been much, but it was still a very devastating blow for a father and four children to take.

A few years after Don had literally mapped the system out in his head, he set out to alter the grates closest to their lair to shut, alleviating the possibility of another flooding.

The idea was simple, and the work had been light. All he did was install a slab of metal to close down on the inside of the drain (if it were on the outside someone would have seen it, plus, he'd actually have to be outside the sewer to do it). It had been one of his greatest (and simpliliest) accomplishments, one he still was very proud of today.

Raph groaned, wondering if scars could get infected. He entertained the thought of having Don amputate his legs, because they'd gotten infected from all the waste he was wallowing around in, but his thoughts were silenced when Don pointed up ahead, announcing they were there.

"Damn Don, why'd ya gotta put this so far out here?"

"It isn't even that far, it's just the resistance of the water making it seem like a longer trip than usual. And anyway, because the valves were already here, we don't have any right by the lair. These used to be used for something else."

Don explained the painstakingly simple task of turning the valves at the same time, while Raph lapsed in and out of consciousness, his mind once again faltering, wondering if Don realized he was even listening.

"Okay, go."

They both turned the valves, electing a creaking noise that made Don cringe (apparently Don didn't oil EVERYTHING). All at once everything became much quieter, and there were no streams of dirty water pushing down through the drains.

"Well, that worked out rather nicely if I do say so myse-wait, do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Don tilted his head and glanced down the long tunnel behind them. "I can still hear water running. One of the flaps must be malfunctioning. Come on, we need to go fix it."

Giving an over exaggerated sigh Raph tramped after Don, who was twisting back and forth as he attempted to run through the water, also trying not to fall, which proved a bit difficult as the floor was still littered with heavier objects that would not float.

"I can't believe I'm doin' this." Raph growled, struggling through the water after Don.

"I don't know what's taking them so long, maybe we sho- Don, Raph!" Just as Leo had begun to rise from his chair, he spotted a very wet and very shivery Donatello squish his way in, an equally wet although slightly more pissed looking Raphael squashing in a second later. Don coughed into his fist and began wringing out the ends of his bandana, Raph scowling the entire time.

"Where have you guys been?" As Leo placed a hand on Don's shoulder he looked over at Raph, who had made his way over to the couch, growling loudly in protest when Mike pulled a face, as if Raph had smelled something awful.

Don went on to explain how the plan had backfired and how they'd had to stay extra and find something to plug the area where the metal flap should have clamped down. With Don reaching an arm inside the bathroom to grab a towel or two, Leo stepped over to the couch area, intending to question if Raphael was all right.

"We were getting worried." He said after inspecting Raph and concluding that he was all right- a little wet, a little bit pissier than usual, but he wasn't injured.

Mike twisted around from his position on the couch, offering a meek smile. He picked up a tortilla chip and said,"Yeah, dudes, we were about to like, go try and find you. Well, for Donny, anyway. OW!"

"Raph, don't hit him!" Leo reached a hand out and smacked Raph upside the head an instant later, and even though Mike couldn't see the look on Raph's face, hearing him groan like a bratty child was enough to make his face light up like a Christmas tree.

Thank youuuu karma.

With Raph growling gutturally at a grinning Michelangelo, who shoveled another tortilla chip into his gaping yap, Leo took this time to ask, "So what's the damage like down there?"

Mike turned back to the television, listening to some lady attempt to shout above the roaring wind and the buckets of rain being dropped on her, causing her flimsy umbrella to become limp and essentially useless. She kept brushing strands of hair out of her face and pouting, gesturing wildly to the storm behind her raging on.

Don shrugged a bit. "It was pretty flooded, we're probably going to have drainage for a few days." He replied, rubbing his face with a towel after he'd tossed the other to Raph. "Raph and I managed to get everything cut off though. One of the flaps I installed malfunctioned and so we were out there a bit longer than I had anticipated. Sorry."

Leo tilted his head and nodded understandingly, deciding to let the matter go. "Do you think we'll need to evacuate anytime during the night?"

"No, I think we've got it under control. The streets might flood a bit, and I'm sure people will be pissed off, but unless they figure out a way to drain the water down here again we should be fine."

Everyone apparently accepted this, Leo sitting down on the couch next to Mikey. Whenever a storm hit, Leo didn't budge from the couch, and wouldn't change the channel, which usually irritated the hell out of Raphael, who didn't see what the big deal was. Don went to take a shower, and while Raph was waiting for his turn, he paced irritably, grimacing with every squish and squash. "I hate bein' wet."

Mike twisted around on the couch again, a profoundly confused look on his face. "Yer a turtle, brah. How can you hate being wet?"

Raph flinched and made a pretend lunge at him accompanied by a murderous growl, one that caused Mike to jump and spill a handful of tortilla shells into Leo's lap. "Okay, you hate being wet. I get the picture. Sheesh. Uh... Leo, you can keep those."

"Thank you, Michelangelo." Leo replied nonenthustistically.

Deep crimson cloaks billowed in the vicious wind, snapping like a bullwhip in the hands of twisted howling gusts. The bamboo hat that topped the cloak miraculously stayed untouched as if leaden, its sharp flat edge cutting through the wind like a sword's sharp blade and letting it glide over its smooth slightly coned top lost to the darkness far behind the figure. The black mask that adorned his face and covered everything but his eyes was pulled tight as he faced into the wind; those scarlet eyes squinted to protect his eyes from the wind. A long staff was held erect to his right, crowned by a broad flat double-edged axe blade.

When a flash of light and a clap of thunder tore through the sky, he narrowed his eyes to mere slits and slammed his staff onto the ground three sharp times. Rain started to tear downwards, cutting through the air and pelting all who stood below with immense force, enough to cause bruises to exposed and unprotected skin. Car horns now blared loudly from all around the city, in a rush to get to their destination or crashing. More lighting brightened the sky in a dazzling show of electricity and thunder clapping from all around, shaking the buildings with the pure power of sound.

"Those turtles are still living in the sewers, under the streets and buildings that we, The Foot, own! Under roads that we rule and apartments we control! They are a pest, and need to be eliminated!" He slammed his staff down again, one loud hollow sound that cut through the pounding rain and thundering storm like an arrow slicing through the air.

The rows of dogi clad warriors all chanted in unison three times, "Haw! Haw! Haw!" slamming their foot down on the roof at every loud exclamation. They all stopped and, as one, stood straight once more, all eyes on the red-cloaked figures.

Another crimson clad warrior stood forward, his weapon a short staff with who slightly hooked swords tipping each end, like twin gleaming machetes. "They are taking from our territory, stealing what is rightfully ours! This must be ended, and the only fitful end is death!" He slammed his weapon down, a sharp metallic sound echoing to the city below, the grey torment of sky.

Another chant of "Haw! Haw! Haw!" and foot slamming, a clap of thunder, and realigning later another crimson cloaked figure stepped forward, a trident gleaming in the thunder ridden sky, "They must die! We know where they dare to tread the surface and it is there that we shall launch our ambush! It is there that we shall reclaim what is rightfully ours and gain our revenge!"

"HAW! HAW! HAW! HAW! HAW!"

Don't forget to check out Willowfly's fics, and Ming's new story 'Miscommunications'. The Power of Fanfiction compels you!

Yep. We're sorry that this chapter took ages to put up. And I would like to thank Willowfly for helping me with that last part, your totally awesome!