TMNT are owned by Mirage. The doggie is mine.

Don was a seven-year old. Don was a seven-year-old genius. Don was a seven-year-old genius who was injured, lost, and in a lot of trouble.

It didn't take a genius to figure that out.

He knew that since he was lost, he should try to go back home by traveling against the flow of the water. He knew that it was getting later and later, and he was already off course.

He knew all of this.

And yet he STILL decided that he would risk the junk yard.

"After all," he reasoned, as he sat there in the sewers, deciding between left and right, "Splinter is probably out looking for me now. If he figured out that I was going to the junk yard, then I know which way he would be going- but he doesn't know that I took a short cut. So, if I go to the junk yard, I can get into the right tunnel- maybe he's there right now!"

Don smiled, proud that he had reasoned out a good excuse to go to the junk yard instead of trying to head home in the opposite direction. With a bit of effort, he got back up. His knee was stiff and painful, but it held his weight. His ankle was not happy, but he found if he stood on the toes of that foot quickly, then it wasn't so bad, especially when leaning on the Jo stick like a crutch.

It was several minutes of painful, slow, yet steady progress when he remembered the dog.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

The dog! The large, fierce, powerful, gray and white shaggy-furred, bared teeth snarling and snapping and vicious dog!

So he settled for sticking his tongue out at Raph, who laughed at having bested Leo in the war of words.

"Anyway, I have a weapon now," Don said aloud, tightening his grip on the Jo. "And I just have to get to the right tunnel! I'm just going there to get home! I'm not even going to look for anything for the game system. Honest. I'm not. Not even one controller so Mikey will like me again... not even one..."

Determined, he started out again. His speed was even a bit faster, though he took care not to injure his ankle any further. Soon, he would be in the right tunnel, and Splinter would find him, and would pick him up and hug him and kiss him and call him "My son" and "Akio" and carry him home and bathe him and fix all of his owies and spank him and ground him and...

Briefly he stopped again, and gulped. Yes, there was a spanking in his future.

"Man, Donnie, you sure asked for it!" he imagined Raph guffawing as Splinter administered the smacks in front of the others. "And you didn't even bring back one controller to make it all worthwhile. I KNEW you didn't know Adventure..."

Don went on, more determined than ever to get that controller- NO! TWO controllers! If he was going to get the spanking of his life and grounded for ten years, he would at least get the controllers! Dog or no dog!

"Wow! Donnie, I never knowed that you was so brave!" he could hear Mikey saying as he stood in the corner (cause the spanking would have made it hard to sit) of the dojo. "And you did it all for me? You are the bestest, BESTEST brother in the whole wide world, and I'm sorry I got mad at you and I'm not gonna play that new game system until I can play with YOU!"

"Here I come, Adventure! You aren't rid of me yet!"

In what seemed like no time, Don was at the end of the tunnel. Cold night air surrounded him, wrapping him in an icy blanket of shivers. The sky was clear of clouds and the moon was waning as it approached the new phase; stars, unhindered by Nature and Man, littered the dark above as plentifully as the tantalizing mountains of junk that covered the ground.

Don looked around. The place looked very deserted. He had no way of telling the time, but he knew the routine. The lone guard would be safely in his little room, watching TV and eating something tasty.

The dog, hopefully, was with him, begging a few treats even as he prepared for his evening of guarding all this valuable junk from curious turtle boys.

Stealthily (within reason, considering his injuries) he slid into the shadow of the closest pile of treasure, eyes and ears on the alert for any four-footed shaggy sharp-toothed guardians.

From pile to amazingly tempting pile he made his way to the main mound. From there he knew that the entrance he needed was just a few yards away.

Success! He made it without encountering the dog- and there was the entrance! YES! Home was that way...

... and the pile where he had the most luck finding stuff for the game system was just a few more piles to the left...

Go home, Donnie! Go home! You've been lucky so far! What are you trying to prove?

Don hesitated. Home. He had to get home.

You and Mikey could share one remote, and Leo and Raph could share the other! Go home!

Leo and Raph- SHARE?

He knew he was going to do it before he even actually thought of it. To the left he went. A quick look, an even quicker find, and he would be gone! Nothing would distract him in this single-minded mission, nothing would take his attention away from- HEY! That bike looks brand new!

Don-a-tello! He makes sure we can play!

The "sound" of Mikey's voice filled his head as he located the gold mine of his past forages. Nothing stood between him and his quest- sprained knee, possibly broken ankle, most of the skin scraped off of his leg, and freezing cold to boot- he had succeeded!

And there! There in the carefully concealed glow of his flashlight was exactly what he needed! Just there, just buried a tad under that larger stuff, was a wealth of various controllers, waving to him from the pile of even more tantalizing items!

His hand went out; his fingers lovingly and carefully brushed one of the prizes.

"GggrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr..."

Silence, except for the rapid beating of a turtle heart, loud and fast and sounding the alarm. Sweat stood out all over his body, the cold sweat of FEAR. Frozen, unable to move, to think, to even swallow, his ears strained to hear what his brain did NOT wish to listen to.

"GgggrrrrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRR..."

Move slowly... no sudden motions... don't run, he'll just chase you... move slowly...

Don withdrew his hand and gripped the Jo, and at the same time he turned in the direction of the sound. All of his actions took on the quality of a really slow-motion film scene, like in all those martial arts movies they watched all the time where when something climatic is about to take place in the final battle, and everything is slowed down to an impossible crawl just before the hero lands the final blow to defeat the evil opponent!

Don forced himself to look into the fiery eyes of this one-headed Cerberus.

"H-h-h-hi, doggie. Nice doggie!"

"GggrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrr..."

Slowly limping backwards, never taking his eyes off the dog's, Don moved as carefully as he could, Jo stick held in a defensive position, as if he were facing Raph in the dojo. Come to think of it, this dog's growling kind of reminded him of his brother...

Don moved backwards, hopefully in the right direction. The dog slowly followed, head lowered, eyes on this intruder, teeth showing and looking more deadly than ever. Don could see the fur along the dog's back standing up straight and bristling; he could almost smell the dog's breath, though Don kept a respectful distance between the two.

Slowly, Don, slowly, and do not break eye-contact...

"Nice puppy! Cute puppy!"

"GgggrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"

Oh, boy-

Don's bad leg came in contact with something behind him on the ground; stepping on it caused him to retwist the ankle! Pain beyond pain shot from his toes to his tail, and he was off-balance just for a brief, frantic moment!

But it was enough of a brief, frantic moment to set off the dog.

With a final vicious growl that turned into lots of vicious barking, the dog leapt at the child-

Splinter was unsure, which was not quite usual for him.

He had reached the first tunnel to branch off in the direction parallel to the "short cut" of Donatello and taken it immediately, moving with surety; but he had been this way many times before, and as he went along he began to go slower and slower, his doubt building. He never recalled seeing any boarded up sections branching off of it. It did move off to the left as one entered it, steadily left. But he was certain that nothing branched off of it until the end, where one either went left or right.

He stopped and closed his eyes, as much in frustration as in concentration. What had he seen when looking through that small opening? The gigantic hole where the floor used to be; and beyond? Try as he might, he could not recall if there was anything that would tell him if the tunnel went straight or bent again to the left or right. All he was sure of was that it was an access tunnel to help the workers get from one section to the other... short cuts...

"There are no such things as short cuts," he muttered ruefully.

He tried shouting again- something he hated to do in case there were human workers around- but the sound of his own voice echoed back up to him, and nothing else.

What should he do?

Or rather, what would Donatello do?

Assuming that his son had actually escaped that death trap, Splinter would like believe that his son was remembering the basics for getting home, and would be following the runoff channels against the flow. That is the logical thing his son would do-

But then, the logical thing for his son to have done would have been to wait until Father came home so they could go to the junk yard together to replace the damaged parts! The logical thing for Donatello to have done would have been to gather up the broken pieces, hide them from the prying eyes of his brothers, and await the return of Splinter. There was no hurry. Why had he acted so? Why leave the lair, dressed in his fighting gear and carrying a weapon?

He knew one thing- he could not count on Donatello acting logically. He had acted like- well, like a seven-year-old! His son who seemed to be more "grown up" than the others was showing that he was just as much a kid as they were.

"Think, Splinter," he murmured to himself. "Think like Donatello- NO! Think like a seven-year-old!"

The father in him said that Donatello would go on with the original plan, and follow against the flow in an attempt to get home.

But the part that concentrated on the actions of all his sons told him that his son might try to continue his trip to the junk yard...

Long precious minutes were spent in this strange type of meditation. He could not afford to take risks- it would be hard enough finding Donatello in all these endless tunnels.

Unless his son went to the junk yard anyway... there are several ways to get there, though Splinter had only shown them the one. Donatello could have found himself close enough to consider going there anyway, rather than trying to find his way home through unfamiliar tunnels. From the junk yard he could find their usual entrance, could already be on his way back home...

Splinter nearly swore in frustration! Any choice he made could be the wrong one! He was risking his son's recovery no matter what he decided!

"I will ground him for the rest of his life! He will still be grounded even after I die!"

From here, he was about fifteen minutes from his original route. Further ahead this tunnel ended in a left and right turn... the left turn was straight until it reached a bend that curved to the right, and emptied out into a drainage junction... and one of those pipes eventually lead to the dump.

"He could end up at the junction. He would probably wait there for a bit; he would not want to try to choose the direction from so many possible ways," he said to himself. "Unless he decided..."

That was it.

Splinter immediately turned around and headed back to the original tunnel. He would go to the junk yard, and then he would enter the one pipe he was certain that would lead to the junction. He would risk it. And he would search all night if he had to, but he was not going home without Donatello!

Five minutes away from the main tunnel a faint sound echoed up the system, to be detected by his sensitive ears- barking!

Splinter ran, fear for his son giving added energy to the tired Rat, Splinter ran as fast as he could run!

Now he was in the main section, with another ten or so minutes between himself and his goal, running without stopping, straining to hear any sound of a crying child. Again some barking greeted his ears- but nothing else!

Bursting out into the cold night air, he frantically searched with his eyes and ears and nose, trying to locate the dog- and his son!

So many sounds of the city, so many smells of stagnant water and oil and various leftover fluids that dripped from the junked cars and the stink of the nearby river and cooking food from somewhere nearby- honking horns, occasional music from a radio-

Barking! There, to the right!

Pile to pile the Rat moved, wanting to shout out to his son but not daring to. The barking sounded like the dog had not caught whomever it was after, more like it had trapped its prey...

Rounding the next pile, Splinter saw the dog standing in front of another entrance to below ground, barking but daring not to go in.

Splinter threw a rock at it, and the animal, turning to meet this new challenge with much snarling and barking, suddenly shut up, confused. NO one was behind it! There was a scent, a scent of that rat it had chased after before, but the creature was not there!

The dog carefully approached where the lingering smell was the strongest- and found nothing!

Turning back to its original goal, it suddenly caught a whiff of the rat- it had got past the dog and entered the tunnel!

Much indignant barking ensued, but the dog did not go after either one. After several more minutes of expressing its doggie frustration and making several doggie threats, it wandered back to the guard's shack, feeling that it deserved some sort of reward for a job well-done.

"Hey, fella," the old guard greeted the dog. "Been chasing the dump rats again? HEY! What happened? HOW did you get that lump on your head?"