Nirvana

The Right Effort...
Mike? Be careful...

Tell them...I love them...

Come on Raph...come on...

I...I killed him...

NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Don bolted upright in bed, sweat dripping off his forehead. He shut his eyes again quickly, trying to force the images out of his mind. They played before him, one by one, a haunting scene of terror and agony--his warning to Mike...Mike's last request...the two of them pleading at Raphael to come back to them...Leonardo's tortured confession...a half-dead Raphael, staggering into the lair, tears streaming down his face as he cradled his brother's corpse. It felt as though his heart was breaking all over again as he relived this anguish. The dream had continued to torment him until he could take no more.

It was the first time in days that he dared to try to sleep, and his efforts had proven to be more harmful perhaps than beneficial. He threw the sheets back and left the mattress hastily, stumbling to the kitchen to perform his morning ritual.

"Chet--"

^^COFFEE?^^

Suddenly, he was bathed in soft light. Squinting toward the large monitor on the wall, Don couldn't help but smile. How proficient Chet was, and to think, he'd built it himself.

"Yes, please. And make it black."

He slumped into a chair at the table and glanced out the window. It was still dark. The sun probably wouldn't be rising for another couple of hours. He propped his head up with his hand, staring at the tiny pinpoints of stars. No constellations were recognizable from this distance, but Donatello knew they were up there somewhere--Orion, Scorpio, Pegasus...

Again, he recalled Mike's reference to Leo and Raphael as the 'Great Hunter' and the scorpion. The winged horse--heroic and free, reminded Don of Michaelangelo. The thought of his brothers sent the pain rushing back at him full force. He closed his eyes, trying desperately to think of something else--anything to take away the anguish.

Ding

^^YOUR COFFEE IS READY, DONATELLO.  WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO--^^

"I'll get it. Thanks, Chet."

He rose to pour himself a cup, not bothering to sit as he drank it greedily. Once the mug was empty, he poured himself another and made his way back to the table.

Sometimes I think I should have taken up something stronger...

Then the haunting memories of all that had happened as a result of Raphael's drinking came rushing back to him, and he thought the better of it. What a frightening, terminal turn life had taken. Again, he saw his brothers, both covered in blood--one nearly dead on his feet, the other cradled limply in his arms, and he shuddered.

"We buried him out at the farmhouse." His voice was barely above a whisper. "It was a cold day...so very cold..."

The drive had been long and agonizing, but they'd finally made it. Doing his best to hold back his tears, yet failing miserably, Don helped Splinter and Casey lift the coffin out of the back and carry it to the porch. The entire ground was covered in snow. It numbed Donatello's feet painfully as he walked, but he ignored it. His soul, too, had been dulled with hurt and loss, like the icy paralysis of the frozen landscape around him. Nothing mattered anymore.

Raphael stayed far behind the others, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, head down. The only reason he'd come at all was because Splinter had made him. He wished he could be anywhere but here. This place brought back too many memories. Seeing the coffin that contained his brother carried too much pain. He looked away, keeping his distance, trying to focus on the freshly falling snow.

He couldn't face them. He'd allowed his brother to be killed. Worse yet, it was over something not worth fighting for. He realized now what a fool he'd been. But it was too late. Michaelangelo--his little brother was dead, and he was responsible for that. If only he'd listened. If only he'd heeded their persuasions. He should have known that Mike wouldn't let him go out alone. His brother died trying to protect him. His stubbornness had gotten in the way--the intense longing to succeed...to overcome.

**I'm just like Leonardo...**

The thought sent chills up his spine. He pulled the collar higher around his neck and stomped off toward the woods, wanting nothing more than to be swallowed up within its isolating depths.

"We stood around his coffin for the longest time, just staring at one another helplessly. None of us knew what to say or do--we didn't know where to begin. I couldn't even gather my wits about me enough to form a coherent thought. I think the finality of it all is what really got to me. He was dead...gone, and nothing any of us did could ever bring him back.

"I glanced from face to face, trying to find some comfort, some solace, but only anguish greeted me. Shadow's face was a mask of hurt and regret. Her cheeks were streaked with a flow of never-ending tears. Her grief seemed unrelenquishable. I longed to pull her into my arms, to tell her that everything would be all right, but that was impossible. The truth was already too tangible. Things would never be the same again.

"Casey seemed to be holding up rather well. He had put on his best apathetic face, but behind those hardened eyes, I saw sorrow and compassion. He and Mike had shared many adventures, and although he wasn't as close to him as he was to Raph, the emptiness of his loss was something he simply could not deny. Mike had always seen us through the hard times. Where was he now when we needed him most?

"April was completely distraught. For all practical purposes, she'd helped raise us during the last of our teenage years. She was like a big sister, a surrogate mother. She and Mike had been very close. His death impacted her as powerfully as if it had been a member of her immediate family.

"Damien was still young, but he was old enough to understand the concept of death. He realized that Michaelangelo would never be returning. He was solemn, saying nothing as he stood near the grave. His silence was almost deafening. My heart broke for that kid. Finally, his wish for a family had come true, and now the one he was closest to--the one who loved him like a father, was gone. And it had happened so suddenly.

"Then there was Splinter. I could barely manage to look into his face, let alone form the words to speak to him. There were so many things I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him...how much Mike had loved him, how sorry I was that all of this had happened. I think deep down, he knew those things anyway. Although he tried to keep that calm air about him, inside, turmoil was brewing. He'd come so close to losing Raphael, only to see another of his sons die so violently.

"The world isn't fair." Don lowered his head. "Why us, ya know? Why did it all have to happen at once? When would it end?"

April handed Donatello a box of kleenex. Her eyes were red and puffy from all of the tears she had already shed. Between her and Shadow, an entire box had been used up before they ever reached Northampton. As the container was passed, it emptied quickly. Many tears were shed that day over the kind-hearted, joyous soul they'd known as Michaelangelo.

As Splinter moved to stand before everyone, a bitter snow began to fall, adding a sense of despair to it all. Don stared at his sensei empathetically, watched the sorrow fall over his face. His voice was gentle, yet lined with edginess--an unrelenting anguish that filled them all.

"Michaelangelo was a very special person, indeed."

A chorus of sniffles and sobs rose amidst the small gathering.

"Not only was he a loving and caring student, but his gentleness and compassion branched out to touch all that knew him. He was a brother, a friend, and a son, and he shall be greatly missed."

It was all Splinter could say before he broke down. Donatello and April rushed to his side as his legs gave way, nearly sending him to the ground. They lowered him gently to the snow, embracing one another, seeking comfort in each other's arms. Casey held Shadow tight while she sobbed into his shoulder, her wails of agony echoing across the frozen landscape. Splinter reached for Damien and pulled him close, reassuring him as best he could that things would be okay. April wasn't so sure she believed that. She'd seen what had happened when Leo disappeared and when they thought Raphael was dead. Now that one of their own was actually being buried, she couldn't help but wonder what would become of them all.

Far in the distance, among the maze of moss and leaves that shadowed the woods, Raphael stood, leaning against the trunk of a giant tree. His heart wrenched as he witnessed his family's torment. He longed to go them, but he couldn't. He couldn't face what he'd done. He couldn't let them see the overwhelming emotions he was carrying inside. Instead, he remained where he was, alone, his cheeks burning with fresh tears.

**It'll never be the same...**

Don reached into the box Chet had dropped on the table the previous night, and wiped his eyes with one of the tissues. "As we lowered his coffin into the ground, Splinter chanted a few things in Japanese--prayers for his soul mostly. I always wondered what it would feel like to die, to feel the psyche leave the body. I guess Michaelangelo was finally able to answer that age-old question. Too bad he couldn't come back and share the secret with the rest of us.

"I remember the last words Splinter said before we laid him to rest, and they're still a comfort to me, even to this day. 'Death is just another stage in the cycle of life. Though he is gone, he will live forever in our hearts...' And he always has."

"We decided to stay at the farmhouse for a while. It was expected that the break from civilization would prove beneficial to us all. I was grateful for the retreat. It gave me time to collect my thoughts, to get to know myself again after all I'd endured. The nights were the hardest. The air up there was so still, I could almost hear my own heartbeat. It was an empty, lonely quiet that gnawed at my very soul. With silence came thought, and with thought, bitter reminders of what I had lost. If not for the company of the chirping crickets, I might have gone completely insane.

Raphael stayed away entirely during the daylight hours, only returning home at night after everyone else was safely tucked into bed. I presume the turmoil over losing Michaelangelo was just too much for him. He blamed himself, and despite our reassurances to the contrary, he wouldn't allow himself to accept anything but his own failure. To be quite honest, there was something inside of me that held him responsible too, a deep-rooted sense of betrayal that wouldn't allow me the freedom to forgive him. It's taken me all of this time to finally realize what I'd been carrying around for all of these years. I think now I might finally be able to set the hurt and blame aside. It was never Raphael's intention for Michaelangelo to be wounded. He was his best friend for godsake."

Donatello stared down at the table, a war of emotions battling inside of him. "I understand now what it was that killed my little brother. It was us...all of us--our constant fighting, our carelessness, that brotherly bond we seemed to have lost somewhere along the way..."

A sob racked his body, and he buried his face in his hands, allowing the warm tears to wet his palms.

"We were so strong once, nothing could tear us apart. We were a team, a family. God...what happened to us?"

After draining two more cups of coffee, Don stood and paced to the window, glancing out at a slowly lightening sky. It carried with it a new memory, one that brought more hurt and sorrow.

"When we returned home, nothing seemed to change. Raphael remained distant, even cold. Whenever I tried to talk to him, I was met with silence or a foreboding look that told me not to press the issue. That was on the rare occasion I even saw him. As time passed, he made himself more and more scarce. Sometimes he stayed closed up in his room all day, music blaring, as if he was trying to shut out the entire world. I attempted to go to him, to make peace, but each time, I was greeted with either opposition or renunciation. Trying to get him to open up was a lost cause. Most of the time, he left us by ourselves. He would stay out for days, not even bothering to call or drop in so we would know he was okay.

"Splinter made the effort to talk to him a few times, but it was clear that Raphael was only listening out of respect. The words didn't penetrate. He couldn't absorb them. He never said anything in response, even in his own defense. As soon as the lecture ended, he would stalk off again to be alone somewhere. My master eventually gave up. Not that I blame him. He was getting too old to deal with such stress. It was pointless anyway. Raphael refused to listen.

"That was my biggest pet peeve about my brother." Don sighed. "He was so selfish. Why couldn't he have seen the way we were hurting? He should have known he wasn't alone. Why couldn't he have at least made the effort to help us salvage what little there was left of our family? How I longed to piece things together again, to feel that bond--that strength we once had. But it was no use. Things were destined for disaster. Such is the way of my life.

"He and Shadow disappeared almost simultaneously. Some said that the two of them ran off together, but I never believed that was true. Now that I understand what went on between her and Mike, I can only theorize that it hurt too much to be around us. Even her own parents were a reminder of him.

"The day she left, she gave no indication of her intent. She got up, ate breakfast, kissed Casey and April goodbye, and went to school. The day dragged on with no sign of her. Soon, the afternoon turned to evening, and as darkness fell, we began to realize that she wasn't coming home. April was an awful mess after that. She worried that Shadow had been kidnapped--or worse. We were all concerned for her safety. She was only fifteen. Casey must have had half the police force in New York searching for her. About three weeks later, she finally phoned. She told Casey that she loved us, but there were things she needed to work out. She refused to tell him her location, and always called from a different pay phone so it wouldn't be easy to track her. She insisted that she was safe and in no danger. He tried to persuade her to come back, and she finally promised she would some day soon." Don bit his lip. "She never did.

"I know Casey and April passed from this world years ago. Human beings don't live as long as turtles, and the stress they went through hindered their health. But my hope is that Shadow, and her brother Justin, are still alive somewhere. I've spent the last thirty years of my life trying to track Shadow down. I can only hope that this time, my lead was accurate.

"Speaking of which..." Donatello glanced at the desktop computer. "Any word yet, Chet?"

^^NO DONATELLO...MY INTERNAL MEMORY INDICATES ZERO NEW EMAIL MESSAGES^^

"Damn..." He sighed and stared longingly at the blank computer screen, desperately hoping that all was not lost. Thirty-nine years was an awfully long time.

"A couple of days following Shadow's disappearance, I awoke to find that Raphael was not in his bed. That was no real surprise. It was the fourth time in two weeks he'd vanished without an explanation. This time was different, however. Both of his sai were gone, as well as his coat and hat. At first I figured he'd gone topside during the night and had been forced to seek shelter when the sun began to rise. If that was the case, he would probably find his way home soon enough. But then I realized that some other things were missing too--the old pair of spare nunchuks Mike kept in the lair, three or four cans of food, a couple of blankets. Aside from those few belongings, he'd left everything relatively untouched. An eerie feeling crept over me, an overwhelming sense of deja vu. I'd already lived this nightmare when Leo left. Something that told me Raphael wasn't coming back.

"His disappearance filled me with anxiety. I couldn't be sure of his intentions, but I had a nagging suspicion he might try to end it all. He was the most irrational person I had ever known, and with the severity of his depression, I knew he was capable of just about anything. Still, there was a glimmer of hope inside that he wouldn't commit seppuku as Leo had most likely done. Although outwardly, Raphael was a mask of bravery and audacity, I wasn't so sure that those attributes reached deep enough to enable him to take his own life.

"As days went by, I decided he wasn't dead. He couldn't be. I could still feel his essence somehow. Our mental connection, no matter how strained, would never be completely severed. We were still brothers after all--brothers that had once been so united, nothing could tear us apart. Once in a while, I would find a quiet place away from everything and everyone, and meditate on him. I managed to find a link on occasion. I would feel just a hint of anger or frustration, but it was enough to tell me that he was still with us. Slowly, those sensations began to fade, until one day, I could feel nothing of him at all."

Don paused, gazing out at the sunlit hillside.

"I assume he died of loneliness, or maybe severe depression. I'm not sure. For all I know, he was murdered. He always was quick tempered and fast acting. He probably got into a fight, and, still weakened from his injuries, was unable to fend off his attackers alone. In any case, it saddens me to think that he faced death in solitude, refusing his own family to surround himself with strangers."

"Damien stayed down in the sewers with me and Splinter for several months. I knew he deserved better living conditions, but April and Casey already had their hands full, and I didn't dare step foot in Mike's apartment. Living there would be impossible for me. There were too many things to remind me of him. The underground tunnels where we'd once laughed and played as children weren't much of a comfort in themselves, but at least it was familiar territory.

"I took care of him during that time, nurturing him when he needed attention, making sure he ate his meals, bestowing upon him my academic knowledge. I had made a promise, the day we buried Michaelangelo, to protect Damien from harm and to raise him like a son. God, how unsuccessful I was. Somehow, Child Services tracked him to April's house where he was playing while I napped. Despite April's harsh protests, they took him away. I never saw him again.

"Splinter was still with me, yet I was alone. The child I'd begun to grow attached to had been stolen right out from under me. My brothers were gone. I was the last of my kind. What an eerie, terrifying feeling to know that after I died, my breed would cease to exist. I began to have mad fantasies about trying to reproduce the mutagen that transformed us. I could gather up some baby turtles--but no...it was nonsense, all of it. I finally had to come to terms with myself and realize that this was it--I was all I had, and it was up to me to decide where things would go from here.

"Splinter was getting steadily worse. He had no discernable disease as far as I could tell, but old age was taking its toll. His bones and organs were beginning to fail him, and he was tired all the time. He grew quiet toward the end, almost melancholy. My heart broke whenever I looked into his eyes. I could see all of the pain and regret they contained. He told me once that he blamed himself for all that had happened. If only he hadn't raised us to be warriors. But I thanked him. He had given us a purpose, a reason for being, and that to me, was the greatest gift I'd ever received.

"Sorrow was getting the best of both of us. Our underground home was so empty and void of life. Every day, I relived memories from my past--parties, practical jokes and laughter, mixed with battles, arguments and death. The pain seemed to outweigh the joy, and I sunk deeper into despair.

"'A father should never outlive his sons.'" Splinter kept pointing out. I knew his pain. I'd certainly never figured I would be the last one living. In my mind, that had always been Leo's job.

"As the weeks passed, I witnessed Splinter's slow descent. It was only a matter of time before he would leave me as well. I begged him not to go. I did everything possible to prolong his life, but in the end, you cannot avoid the inevitable. One evening, when I went into his room to bring him dinner, I realized he was gone. He was laying against the pillows, his head hanging limp by his shoulder, eyes shut. I could feel nothing of him but a calm silence. It was the most peaceful I'd seen him in a very long time.

"My master died on a cool February evening, fourteen months after Michaelangelo left this world. With his death, my destiny was complete. I was the last living member of my clan. I thought back to a time, years ago, when Splinter told me that someday, I would go to Japan to bury him. I hadn't realized then that he was telling me I would be going alone.