Slowly, Leo rose and walked over to the sword, picking it up, feeling the weight of the handle and the metal. It was like the difference between running and sprinting, he guessed. Or maybe he was remembering something Mike had told him again. That it was easier to pick up something heavy in a sudden, quick burst, then to pick up something light in careful consideration. It didn't make much sense. Maybe the analogy of...picking something up with two hands as opposed to one fit better. Picking up the sword with both hands made it easier.
He grasped it now in both, letting it dance, watching it glint softly, then moved back to the center of the room and began the exercises again.

Dropping to a cat-like crouch, Raph watched the mugger stumble off into the trees of Central Park. The woman Raph had tossed the purse to looked around wildly, as if searching for something, then ran off, pulling her jacket more tightly around her. In the depths of shadow, Raphael waited until the coast was clear, then slipped away toward the nearest manhole.
Adrenaline was still in his veins, and he leaped down the ladder and began to run. It felt satisfying, knowing he could stop at least some of the crime that went on, that he could at least protect without being seen. That was what was important. Protection of the innocent.
But Mikey's not so innocent now, is he?
Stopping, he rested his hands on his knees and took several deep breaths. Innocence had nothing to do with it. He only wanted to help his brother through some rough times. Mike hadn't been the same since that battle in the fortress. None of them were.
Lifting his head, Raph caught the distant sound of a subway rushing into darkness, lights flashing past like whispering ghosts.

"Hai!"
The yell catches him off guard, and then Raph finds himself sprawled on his back, staring at the training room's ceiling. A second later, Mike's face comes into view.
"Had enough?"
"Hell no!"
He flips up, grabbing Mike by the shoulders, leveraging himself and delivering a swift knee to his brother's midsection. As Mike doubles over, Raph grabs the fallen sai and stands ready.
Catching his breath, Mike flicks his wrist so that his fingers wrap around the wooden sticks of the nunchucks, and moves into a cat stance, body held low, eyes direct on Raph's face.
Drawing in a breath, Raphael lunges, and then suddenly Michaelangelo's hands are in an iron grip around his wrists, body turning, ready to throw, and Raph pulls back, or tries to, teeth clenched. Mike abruptly lets go and crouches, arms crossed in front. Raph stands there, hands up like knives, until he realizes the problem. Mike had let go, but not because he was giving Raph a break.
"Mike?" he asks, confused.
Michaelangelo doesn't move. The cat stance takes on a stone-like quality, and his eyes are--not blank, Raph muses. Aware. But seeing something else.
"Mike," he says again, shaking him. "Hey!"
A slight shudder ripples across Mike's shoulders and he blinks, shaking his head. "What?" he demands, looking up.
"You spaced out on me," Raphael says.
"I did?"
"You don't remember?"
Michaelangelo stands up, clearly confused. "We were sparring. I grabbed you by the wrists to keep from getting hit..."
"...and then you fell to a crouch and blanked out," Raph continues. "So?"
Mike blinks again. "I think...I was in your head for a sec. I mean, in your mind."
Raphael's eyes flash. "'Scuse me?"
Shaking his head, Mike puts a hand to his eyes. "Sorry. I don't know what happened. I just...I think when I touched you...I mean, you were in fighting mode, you were leaking it, and I just..."
Raphael nods, understanding now. "You got sucked in. Guess I should be the one apologizing..."
"Nah." Mike touches his arm. "I'll probably be doing that a lot. That's just the way you are."
Raph just looks at him. "It's the way you are too, you know," he says.
Michaelangelo says nothing. But then he steps back and readies another stance. "Let's try it again."
Nodding, Raph reaches for his sai.

He reached the door to the lair and opened it, stepping inside and tossing off his hat and coat.
"Raphael?" Splinter's voice. He headed toward his sensei's room and looked in.
"It's me," he said.
Splinter nodded. "Where were you?"
"Out," Raph said quietly. "Just...scouring the streets."
Another nod. "You were careful not to be seen?"
"Oh, yeah, of course." Raph looked over his shoulder. "Are the guys here?"
"Donatello is at the public library. I believe Leonardo is in the dojo."
"And Mike?"
Splinter nodded toward him. "I think he is in the bedroom."
"Okay, thanks." Raph left and went to the bedroom, opening the door slowly.
"Hey Mike," he called, flicking on the light.
Silence.
"Mike?" Frowning, he moved into the room, toward Mike's empty bed. And stopped short.
"Holy shit--"
Michaelangelo lay on the floor, eyes open and staring blankly. He wasn't moving, and Raphael's first thought clamped down on his neck like a hand made of ice.
Oh no, he thought, horrified. He can't be--
"Mikey," he gasped, dropping to his knees. "Answer me!"
But the empty eyes continued to stare, devoid of consciousness, and somewhere in his head, Raph could hear screaming...

Jensen saw the car first, the blond boy behind the wheel, the dark-haired girl beside him.
"Now," he said.
Fuller pointed the gun and shot, blowing out the back left tire. The car skidded and careened toward the tree. Not too much damage. But they weren't moving.
As Fuller got out and ran toward the small wreck, Jensen picked up the cell phone.
"We got them," he said.
"Thank you," Hatcher said. His voice smiled. "I'll be waiting."