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Searching

Two a.m.

Don, sagging in his chair dozing, jerked fully awake again. He'd been staring at the screen of his computer, trying to map out possible ways whoever had taken Splinter could have left the sewers from where they'd found his walking stick.

It still puzzled them greatly, the fact that there had appeared to be no struggle, no signs of a fight...

No sign of anything...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"It ain't natural!" Raph kept saying in disbelief and growing anger. "Splinter would of fought! He wouldn't of let someone just waltz right outta here with him in tow, just like that!"

Leo, still examining the ground, shook his head.

"There are definitely six sets of tracks," he said, looking at Don. Don, wearing his special goggles, had to agree- these were the prints of six individuals, working as one.

"The trouble is, they came from different directions," Don told his brothers.

"They left in the same direction, though," Leo told them, grimly. "Back the way Sensei was coming. And Sensei was walking with them."

They had tried to backtrack, to follow the faint trail, but after a short distance even Don's technology failed them- the trail had vanished way before the next junction, and yet there was no possible exit close by. God knows how far they had gone or which direction once they'd reached that junction- or the next- or the next- or-

"Could it have been someone he knows, someone needing help?" Mike had asked hopelessly- he wanted to believe this possibility, but he knew the answer better than the others.

"Why leave his stick?" Raph asked again. "It's for sure he didn't drop it- it was laid carefully on the ground. No struggle, no fight, and he lays his stick on the ground!"

"Maybe someone darted him?" Mike again, still hopeless.

"He wouldn't be walking," Don, putting a hand on his brother, tried to comfort him, but there was no comfort at the moment.

"The biggest question is 'who'," Leo said, rising from the ground. "Our choices of known enemies is limited."

"Hun and the Dragons have been strangely active lately," Don pointed out.

"Yeah- and I still don't get why he was hasslin' the homeless the other night," Raph said. "Somethin's goin' on with them. Maybe this is part of it."

Leo nodded.

"You and Casey are the best to check that out- if Casey will help," Leo decided.

Raph, without another word, took off, knowing that Casey definitely would help.

"The problem will be keeping April from wanting to go with them," Don smiled faintly- then had a brainstorm. He quickly dialed her number.

"Maybe Karai and the Foot-" Mikey had started, but hesitated to continue. He knew how touchy Leo was on the subject of this woman.

"I thought the same, Mike," Leo assured him. "Splinter is right- I can't trust her. I don't trust her. I am wary of her, though I will take her word at the moment. But I don't trust her. You and I can check out the Foot."

"That just leaves Bishop," Don, finished with his call, said. "Of the known enemies, he's the last of them."

"Unless some other crazy with a grudge against Sensei has swiped another time scepter," Mikey said, as the three of them prepared to leave. "And sent him to some other dimension."

"That is the least likely scenario," Don pointed out, but not unkindly. "April is going to meet me at the Lair. We're going to go over all the records we managed to salvage from Bishop's last two labs. Maybe we can find something out."

"You should get Prof. Honeycutt to help you," Leo suggested- then laughed at the look Don gave him. "Of course- you've already called him, right?"

Don merely smiled. Then they all looked sober at the walking stick that Don was carrying.

"We'll find him. We'll bring him home," Leo said, always the leader, always the reassuring big brother... with no one to reassure him...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

That had been hours and hours ago. April was sleeping on the couch. Don had gone over the surprising amount of information and files that had escaped Bishop's attempts to wipe clean, but they so far hadn't managed to find anything concrete. There were plenty of promising leads, but both he and April couldn't see straight anymore.

Professor Honeycutt had finally persuaded Don to let him take some of the most promising records back to Leatherhead's place with him.

"Get some rest, Donatello," he advised him kindly. "You will be no help to Master Splinter if you are exhausted."

Don shook his head.

"How can I sleep when my brothers are out searching? How can I rest when Master Splinter is- missing? I've got to do my part from here."

And yet, it seemed for the past hour that his part was sitting, staring at the screens of his computers, half-asleep...

His computers... he remembered learning about them from TV- from the first TV he had successfully repaired. As the world opened up to four young turtles via the TV, he had learned of many amazing things, including computers!

He remembered when he started scrounging parts and old broken computers along with the TVs and radios he'd gather for spare parts, when he'd go with Splinter on salvage operations... he remembered building so much stuff, using information from old books, manuals, and his imagination... inventions... making their lives easier...

Making inventions...

"It's a remote control toaster," he mumbled to himself, dozing in the chair. He felt all warm and loved and happy and comforted and safe.

He felt the strong arms around his shoulders, the warm fur, the ticklely whiskers of his father brushing against his cheek.

He felt like a kid again.

Then he suddenly bolted upright, fully awake. "Master Splinter!" he shouted happily, amazed beyond belief! He'd felt his father put his arms around him, heard his father speak to him. He turned around quickly, a huge, relieved grin on his face-

But no one was there!

Shocked silence. Shocked silence for perhaps a full minute...

"No," he whispered, tears of angry disappointment threatening to spill from his eyes. His breathing was hard, his heart was thumping, first from excitement, now with disappointment and panicked denial. "No! I heard him! I heard him say he was proud of me... I felt him hug me! It can't be a dream!"

The feel of those whiskers still tingling on his cheek, he got up and quickly went into Splinter's room, convinced that he would find his father just waking up from this nightmare.

The sight of the empty bed was too much for the exhausted Turtle.

He slowly approached the sleeping mat. He slowly knelt down next to it- there was the cup he'd brought in the night before, the cup that had held the tea he'd made for him after his nightmare. Mikey and he had done all the dishes this morning, but Sensei must have forgotten to bring out the cup. He picked it up, cradling it in his hands, hoping to feel some warmth, some vague touch of his father's.

"It was a parent's worst nightmare," he could still hear Splinter say, when he wouldn't go into more detail regarding his nightmare.

Why couldn't he tell me about his nightmare? I've been telling him every tiny aspect of mine all this time. Why couldn't he tell me?

He realized that he was crying, but he didn't seem to care. Still clutching the teacup, he curled up on his father's bed, still hearing that voice; still feeling that touch.

"I know I didn't dream it," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "I know I didn't dream it. He's here. I know he's here."

Casey and Raph had been at it for hours, searching as much of the city as humanly- or turtely- possible.

They'd haunted every known Purple Dragon hideout, scrutinized every person they suspected of being homeless, and managed to save a few people from serious injury or death in the process.

And with each battle that ended with no result, Raph's frustration and anger grew.

"Raph- calm down!"

The words sounded odd coming from Casey, but Raph actually heeded them, and let go of the street punk he was about to kill- over a snatched purse.

As the two friends watched the injured punk make his desperate way out of their sight, Raph couldn't help but cry out in frustration!

"I can't take this, Casey!" he yelled, facing his friend. Aside from Master Splinter, Casey was the only one Raph found he could cry in front of, and even then it was embarrassing. It wasn't often, and it wasn't commented on when it happened.

For Casey's part, Raph had seen him shed a few tears during their friendship as well. Usually they supported each other quietly; ie, they ignored it, looking the other way and acting all unaware.

But tonight was different.

Casey actually put an arm around Raph tonight.

Neither said anything, but they didn't need to.

Then they continued their hunt.

A few hours later, they found something.

"Look! Hun and his goons!" Casey whispered.

"They're still hasslin' the homeless- I don't get it!" Raph replied. "Hun is in charge of one of the toughest gangs in the City- why pick on the homeless?"

"Maybe because they're lookin' for someone?" Casey hazarded a guess, as he noticed that one of Hun's flunkeys was holding what appeared to be a picture.

"There's only nine of 'em," Raph said, weapons ready. "We can take 'em."

He got no argument from Casey.

The fight was vicious, bloody and quick.

"Hey, Hunny!" Casey sang in a silly voice, smashing his hockey stick right across the bridge of the behemoth's nose before he could respond. "Did ya miss me?"

"Damn! What's wrong with your recruits, Hunny?" Raph laughed, as most of the "hoods" took off. "Times are tough without ol' Shredder, eh?"

Hun, blood gushing from his nose, led the retreat of his remaining gang.

The homeless they'd been harassing were gone- but a bloodstained photo remained.

Raph picked it up and brushed the blood off against his kneepad. It was an I.D. badge, similar to the type found in government offices, hospitals, labratories, and so on. There was nothing on it, however, to identify the organization or place of business; just the name and a photo. He and Casey gazed at a picture of a relatively young man, African-American, rather frightened-looking.

"Well, I may not be Donnie," Raph grinned, "but I think that this is important to our search!"