Yeah! I'm back! Thanks for reading! TMNT, including Dr. Stockman and a few others, are the property of Mirage. Any OCs are mine- for good or for ill.

Conflicts

The woman stared at Dr. Stockman, then at the "body" lying on the slab. It had been carefully preserved all these months to the point that nothing had decayed, but it was still a body; damaged beyond all thoughts of repair.

And yet...

"Can it be done?"

She had posed this question several times, and each time the "good doctor" had hedged in answering. She was beginning to realize that either it could be done but he was incapable, or else it was completely hopeless.

Stockman had tuned her out after the fourth time. These people, he sniffed, as he continued to study not only the mass of matter before him, innumerable tubes and fluids and other things feeding into it in a bid to stave off decomposition; but also the various notes and computer-generated data she had overwhelmed him with. These people watch too many movies! Always expecting the genius doctor to answer them within minutes of presenting him with the information.

Working for Bishop had exposed him to information beyond his vast imagination- though the most important information to him, i.e. generating a new body to house his magnificent brain and returning him to "human" status still eluded him- all Bishop's fault, he had dangled that carrot for too long, and now he was not in a position to fulfill his initial promise to Stockman. He had learned many things, including the truth behind Bishop's long life- it was amazing what Agent Bishop had accomplished, considering the fact that when he'd first become aware of "alien life" it had been well over one hundred thirty years ago!

Yes, Agent Bishop had been a unique person, learning, developing, researching, inventing and reinventing (including, it appears, himself)- and yet, in the end, all of the knowledge, all of the technology, all of the genetic manipulation hadn't done him much good against two determined and deadly mutated Turtles.

Stockman had had quite an education under Bishop, and megalomaniac that he was, he truly had appreciated the genus that had been Bishop. It seemed that there was nothing he hadn't thought of.

But what this woman wanted?

Stockman finally shook his head.

"I simply do not see how it can be done- not the way you require it," he finally had to admit. "And I do not get the feeling from reading all of this that he was able to find a way, either. There might be a way to technically 'bring' him back- but judging from his own notes and research, it would not be the same. At best you would have a sort of copy- but without the memories, the abilities, the intelligence- indeed, without the soul if you will, of the person you are trying to regenerate."

She did not wish to admit defeat.

"But it could be done?"

Stockman looked at this woman half in disbelief, half in awe. And he thought he was obsessive...

"You're going down this time, Mikey!" Leo promised. It was the afternoon, and Splinter had told the other two to fight at full strength according to their own judgment. He had had to when Leonardo, before the session, had confronted his Sensei regarding the topic.

"You told them to fight at half-strength. You wish us to regain ours, and yet you continue to coddle us so we can't. Don and Mikey need to stop holding back!"

Oh, his tone had been very, very, very respectful, but the accusation was there nonetheless. Leonardo was not happy that Sensei was treating them as if they'd just gotten out of their death beds.

"Yes, I have," Splinter had readily agreed. "I have and I am not ashamed of my actions. I have my reasons. But if you will not regain your strength unless your brothers spar without holding back, then I will not stand in the way. But when they stop holding back, do not come crying in frustration to me again!" And he turned with a flick of his tail and stalked off to his spot in the dojo where he usually observed the bouts.

Leo hated to be reminded, even in a subtle way, of how in the early days of their return to the dojo both he and Raph had complained that Don and Mikey needed to "hold back" a bit during bouts, because they had not regained their full strength.

Leo took a deep breath; he'd had to do it! Sensei was smothering them! They needed to be-

"Leonardo and Michelangelo! Begin!" came the sharp command, and before he was prepared, Mikey knocked him on his tail with one quick sweep of the legs.

"Damn it, Mikey!" Leo shouted in frustration- and then swallowed his anger down quickly as he felt the all-knowing gaze of Splinter boring into him like Mikey into a chocolate cake. Quickly he arose and began the bout in earnest.

From the sidelines, Don and Raph watched with equal interest for different reasons. Don had a bet with Mikey on how long it would take for him, at full-strength, to win the bout over Leo- nanoseconds were mentioned, and Don kept one eye on the timer in his hand, one on the match.

Yes, Mikey was definitely performing at full-strength. And Leo was managing to hold on, though all could see that within five minutes he was laboring, breathing hard. His veins were standing out on his forehead in anger and determination, but Don was confident that Leo would soon fall. All he had to do was hold on just a few more minutes, and Don would win the bet.

"Go, Leo!" he cheered from the sidelines as his older brother, sweating and panting, approached the time limit Mikey had chosen as the exact moment Leo would be going down. "Don't let him beat you! You can do it!"

Raph took his eyes off the match and stared hard at Don; an angry light of understanding began to flicker in his eyes as he observed the delighted expression of his brainy brother.

"You guys are betting on us, aren't you?"

Don cheerfully ignored Raph's pissed tone. Leo was still on his feet, and it looked like Don was going to win!

"Woo-hoo! Way to go, Leo!" he shouted as Mikey's estimated time came and went. "Take him down! LeeeeO! LeeeeO!"

"Donatello, enough!" Splinter snapped, eyes never leaving the bout.

Leo was gasping by now, but he was not going to lose to Mikey! He refused to lose to Mikey! The Great Outdoors was calling! He could hear it, smell it, taste it-

With a feign of his katana, he suddenly rolled behind his brother's attempted block, lashed out with both feet, and landed his most powerful kick against Mikey's shell, wondering how far he would fly!

Mikey barely staggered, spun quickly, and with deft swings of his 'chuks disarmed Leo before he could blink.

"Match goes to Michelangelo," Splinter announced, as Leo lay there stunned and weaponless.

I kicked him! I kicked him with both feet! He should have been knocked to the other end of the dojo! I kicked him!

"Great bout, bro," Mikey grinned, holding out his hand to help Leo stand up. "You almost had me, there."

Leo stared in disbelief at the hand being offered to him. With a sudden surge of embarrassment and anger, he knocked the hand away, turned over onto his hands and knees, and with great effort made his shaky, exhausted way to his own feet.

"Leonardo!" Splinter snapped.

Leo swallowed hard, turned and, with a much calmer expression that did not match his inner feelings, he bowed to Mikey and congratulated him on the win. Then he retrieved his katana and carefully made his way to where Don and Raph were seated. It took all of his inner strength to not collapse on the floor in an exhausted heap as he lowered himself to join them.

Raph passed him a towel and some water, and he gratefully accepted both, spilling some of it as he shakily held the bottle to his mouth to drink.

"Twelve minutes, thirty-three point seven seconds," Don smiled at his oldest brother. "I'm so proud of you!" He patted Leo's head as if he were a clever child!

Leo studied his brainy brother's beaming visage.

"You bet on us," he said simply.

"No dishes for me for the next week!" Don confirmed, getting up and getting ready to take on Raphael. Both of them saw him pass the timer to Mikey with a cheerful "I plan on eating a LOT of things these next few days!"

"Raphael and Donatello," Splinter's overly cheerful, overly grim voice called out.

Raph got up, determined to defeat this smug younger brother.

"Don't let him psych you out," Leo warned. Raph nodded grimly. He was NOT going to lose to Brainac! He was NOT!

"Begin!"

Ten minutes, fifty-three point seventeen seconds later, Donatello was declared the winner.

"And now, meditation," Splinter announced, and four turtles spent the session joined in thoughts by groups of two: Leo and Raph were plotting revenge, Don and Mikey were planning a trip topside.

When Splinter dismissed them from the dojo, Mike and Don wasted no time in gearing up and heading out. They didn't want to risk being delayed- or being ambushed by their already humiliated brothers.

"Do not be late for dinner!" Splinter called after them as they bolted from the lair on their way to April's.

Leo and Raph plopped down onto the couch in unison. Splinter, to their chagrin, joined them in the living room, sitting in his chair.

"Come to keep an eye on us?" Raph groused, still nursing his arm where Don's bo had cracked him a good one across the elbow.

"Of course," Splinter responded honestly. "I have to keep an eye on my two 'babies'. That is what a good father does."

Leo rolled his eyes. He was still "smarting" from his inability to kick Mikey to the curb- literally.

"Sensei, we both promised on our honor to stop trying to escape. What do you want from us, blood?"

"You both did excellently this afternoon," Splinter said, ignoring the rude remark of his son. "You both showed improved stamina and more of your old fighting skills. You both fought as you used to, before your battle with Bishop. But you are still holding back."

Leo, taken by surprise, looked puzzled; Raph even more so. Them, holding back? Them?

Splinter nodded thoughtfully at them, going over the bout- indeed, the past few bouts in his mind.

"Yes, this afternoon you have shown more of your old skills, your old styles. You did not hold back as you have been doing. You both have a fear about you when you are sparring with your brothers, a fear of hurting them. I can see it in your moves, in your attacks- in your faces. You were not aware of this?"

Leo, stunned, kept thinking and rethinking every move, every humiliating match he'd had since Splinter had allowed him and Raph to return to sparring. Holding back? Fear? No way! Splinter was imagining it! He certainly hadn't feared hurting Mikey today when he kicked him-

Yet Mikey had barely staggered. Leo had put it down to lack of strength. But now...

Had he held off? Had he pulled his kick?

"You think we've been holding back?" Raph's harsh voice cut into Leo's thoughts. "How have we been holding back? I've been close to cutting them time and again! How is that holding back?"

"Yes," Splinter agreed. "Close to it- but never close enough to actually put them in any danger of being cut. You have been reluctant to press home your attacks with your weapons- both of you. Today, Leonardo, instead of sweeping in with both katana and disarming Michelangelo, you feigned the attack, then rolled behind him to kick him in the shell. You stood a better chance of winning had you attempted to disarm him. Instead, he disarmed you. And, you pulled your kick. He should have at least gone down on his knees."

Then he turned his attention back to Raphael.

"In your bout with Donatello, you never got in close enough to disarm him," he continued. "You used to be able to take his bo from him with both sai. Today he was able to crack you across the elbow, and to take both of your weapons with little effort. You both fought well, and showed your old skills- yet you are both still holding back."

Splinter got up and looked at his sons. They both wore such odd expressions, as if they wanted to vehemently deny their father's observations, and yet realized that he was speaking- well, certainly not the WHOLE truth, but some- yes, some of what he was saying made sense- they guessed- but they were NOT holding back! It had been the others, the others at Splinter's directions- well, except when Leo had mentioned it before- but that was months ago- and still- they were NOT the ones- well, maybe a bit- but STILL-

"I am going to make some tea. Remember your promise."

And without another word or glance, he went into the kitchen, smiling all the while. That ought to give them much to think about he chuckled to himself.

Though they all loved the sunlight, the best thing that could be said for winter was that dark came earlier, and they could move around easier. Still, they had stayed too long at April's, and they knew they'd better not be late for dinner, or they would be joining Leo and Raph in being cooped up below ground for some time!

"And so Sensei said all that I need to do now is choose a date," Mikey was filling him in on his plans for a memorial for Victor. "We're gonna do it sort of like the traditional Japanese way- I think he would have liked that."

Don nodded, eyes on their surroundings. Though the weather had brought a lot of activity down, there was still activity. And their last encounter with the Foot was still fresh in Don's mind.

"Um, Don," Mikey, after several minutes, hesitantly said.

"What?"

Hesitant sigh; fidgeting.

Don looked at his normally chatty brother.

"What?"

"When you and Leatherhead blew up that place," he slowly dragged out. "Um, well, no one was in there that was still- alive- right?"

Don stopped in his tracks. They were on a well-shadowed rooftop, close to their entrance into the sewers. It was freezing, and the feel of snow was in the air. Despite their cold-weather gear, they ran the risk of becoming too cold, too sluggish. And yet Don could tell that this question of Mikey's needed to be addressed now, not when they got home where it was warm.

"L.H. and I made sure no one alive was in that place," Don affirmed, a hand going to his little brother's shoulder. "Only bodies remained in every room we wired. Only bodies."

"Even Victor's?"

"What?"

"Even Victor's? Did you see his body lying there? You know, in that room where we found Sensei? You made sure those poor guys strapped down had escaped... did you see..."

Don sighed, long and deeply. He guessed that Mikey had overheard some of his theories regarding Bishop; had perhaps entertained some vague hope that Victor-

"Victor's brain was destroyed by that fail-safe device," Don told him, kindly but firmly. "There was no way he could have survived that kind of damage. Bishop may have found ways to regenerate the body, but the brain is too highly complex to-"

"Did you see the body?" Desperate; insistent; he needed to hear the word "yes" from his brother! His eyes were pleading with Don for a "yes"! He had to hear it from Donatello!

The truth was- Don honestly did not remember seeing the body upon his and Leatherhead's return to sweep the room of survivors and to destroy it along with the rest of the facility. He'd had so many things on his mind, how could he remember this one small detail?

But Mikey needed to hear it. He trusted Don- he trusted all his family, but for some deep reason he could never explain, Don's word meant the most to him.

Don put both hands on Mikey's shoulders. He looked him in the eyes.

"Yes," he lied sincerely. "Yes, I saw the body. He did not regenerate. He was dead. I'm sorry, Mikey."

Mikey sagged partly in defeat, partly in relief. He nodded, forced a grateful smile on his face.

"Let's go home. I'm freezing."