Song: Lost - Red

I eat dinner with my brothers in the kitchen. Master Splinter simply inhaled his food and left; he seems to have a lot on his mind lately. It worries me, because it's never a good thing when our sensei is troubled. I know he won't tell me anything, however, so I don't interrogate him. Master Splinter will confide in me in his own time.

   Silence owns the room, except for the clicking of chopsticks. I can sense wariness coming off of my brothers in waves. Ever since I lost my temper, they've kept their distance. Even now, they have their chairs placed as far from me as they can without making it too obvious.

   I'm ashamed of yelling at Elizabetta. It's possibly the most embarrassing thing I could have done as a leader. Just the thought of it makes me feel uncomfortable, like my shell suddenly doesn't have enough room for my body. Every time a glimpse of the memory flashes through my mind, it takes ten minutes for me to forget about it again.

   But I don't regret what I said to her. She needs to stop acting like revenge is the only thing that matters. Her behavior is dangerous; suicidal. I had hoped to destroy the game plan she is developing, but I know deep down that I only spurred it on.

   I put another sushi piece into my mouth and try to focus on that. It doesn't work.

Finally, I don't know what possesses him to break the silence, but Michelangelo does. He looks at me solemnly as he asks, "Do you think she will come back?"

I can't even look at him. She was his best friend and I practically sent her away. "I don't know. It's only been three days," I reply, more irritably than I intended. Truth is, I don't want to talk or even think about her. Period.

Michelangelo apparently doesn't notice that, however. "That's a long time, though! Do you think she hates us now?" he presses on.

"Probably," I say bluntly. Can't he see I want to avoid the subject?

"Maybe I can find her and bring her back here," Michelangelo suggests hopefully. "Then you can apologize and everything will be normal again."

I feel a bit of anger rise inside me. I won't apologize for trying to save her life! "I'm not apologizing," I tell him sharply.

"Why?" the orange-clad turtle asks in confusion.

"Because I didn't do anything wrong."

"Then how are we going to get her back?" Michelangelo questions sadly.

I'm done with this conversation. I stand up and shove my face in his. "She's not coming back, Mikey!" I snap impatiently. "She's gone! Just accept it!"

Michelangelo disappears inside his shell and it clatters to the floor. Donatello and Raphael look at me with wide eyes.

Instantly, I'm embarrassed again. I yelled for no reason again. What is happening to me? Why am I suddenly so mad all of the time?

With humiliation evident on my face, I turn away. "I'm going to the surface for a while," I say. My brothers don't attempt to stop me, and I make it out of the sewers unchallenged.

I spend half of the night trying to find comfort in the unforgiving city. I search every crease and crevice, looking for something to distract myself from my recent failures as leader. Nothing soothes me.

I didn't plan to send my brother's best friend away. He has wanted one for as long as I can remember. Raphael has Casey, Donatello has April, and I guess in a way, I have Master Splinter. Michelangelo has no one.

Once that thought breaches my mind, I can't dismiss it. It weighs me down, like I have a thousand rocks inside my shell.

It makes me wonder where Elizabetta is. Is she safe? Is she broken? Does she even care? Did she forget all about us and move on with her life? Is she training by herself to attempt to defeat the Shredder? The last question makes me shudder. I will it away, afraid my thoughts will transmit to her and give her ideas.

Eventually, the harsh streetlights make my eyesight next to useless. I decide to go back to the lair. Sleep will help me recover. Enough sleep will make all of my fiascos fade away, until they just feel like a dream. I can only hope that during that time, my brothers will forgive me. Especially Michelangelo.

The lair is dark and quiet. Everyone must have gone to bed early. I don't blame them; they probably wanted to forget what happened, too.

Knowing who might still be awake, I head to Donatello's laboratory. Sure enough, the purple-clad turtle is sitting at his laptop with a concentrated look on his face. He writes on a notepad and types at the same time. It amazes me how well his mind works.

"Donnie?" I greet him cautiously, afraid of interrupting him.

Donatello looks up at me. He develops an anxious expression when he recognizes who it was. "Leo! I was waiting for you," he says. Surprisingly, he doesn't sound mad. Actually, he sounds terrified. "I finished my research, and I think I know why the Foot messed up Elizabetta's memory."

An equal measure of shock and joy explode inside of me. "Really?! Why?" I press.

"It's complicated," Donatello closes his notepad and jumps to his feet. "We need to go find her. I'll explain then. She's in danger."

My stomach twists with fear. "Danger? What do you mean?"

"If my calculations are correct, the Foot aren't done with their experiment," Donatello replies. "We need to find her, Leo. Right now. Where's Mikey?" he suddenly asks, looking at me in confusion.

I mimic his confused look. Why is he asking me? "I don't know. I only just got back from the surface."

Donatello doesn't seem to believe me. "Earlier, Mikey left the kitchen a minute after you did. I thought he was going after you," he insists.

I start to feel slightly panicked. "Maybe he just went to his room?"

Donatello shakes his head. "I went in there earlier to make sure his T-Phone was still functioning properly, and except for the usual mess and cockroaches, it was empty. I checked the rest of the lair, too, and he was nowhere to be found."

Oh no. That only leaves one option. Michelangelo went to the surface alone. And I don't have to acquire Donatello's brain to know why.

"He's looking for Elizabetta," I blurt out. "He'll be in danger, too, if he finds her."

"Let's call him," Donatello decides as he dials Michelangelo's number on his phone.

As he holds it up to his ear, I hear the familiar T-tone playing faintly. I step out of his laboratory and follow the sound to the sofa in the main room. There is Michelangelo's T-Phone, forgotten on one of the cushions.

I show it to Donatello, who has an irritated expression on his face. "Guess we're gonna have to find him the old-fashioned way," he mutters as he hangs up.

Donatello starts running with me hot on his heels. We burst into Raphael's room, yelling for him to wake up.

The red-clad turtle sits up abruptly and looks at us in unmistakable annoyance. "What's the big idea?!"

"Mikey's missing!" I gasp. My heart pounds with apprehension.

"He went to the surface!" Donatello blurts out as well.

"We need to find Elizabetta and him!" I add breathlessly.

"Before the Foot harm them both!" Donatello finishes ungracefully.

"I can't get any sleep around here anymore," Raphael mumbles as he got out of his bed. However, he recovers from his grumpiness quickly. "Let's go find our little brother!"

We leave Raphael's room, but before we get any further, Donatello stops us. "Wait. We don't know where Elizabetta lives."

He's right. "How do we find them, then?" I question.

"I prepared for something like this," Donatello begins. He pulls out a little round gadget from his sash. It has a screen that glows blue. White words flash across it every now and then. "If I could get some DNA from Mikey, then I can put it into my tracer. It can detect anyone within a three hundred kilometer radius."

"One problem," Raphael comments gruffly. "Mikey isn't here to get DNA from."

"But there are already things here with Mikey's DNA on it," Donatello points out. "Like his saliva on a leftover piece of pizza."

Raphael and I stare at him with disgusted looks on our faces. "You're kidding?" the red-clad turtle finally asks.

"Nope," Donatello replies. "Now, who wants to go get it?"

I'm not going to touch Michelangelo's slobbery food, so I look over at Raphael. After a few seconds, I realize Donatello is eyeing him, also.

The short turtle caves in. "Fine, I'll get the pizza." He unceremoniously disappears into the kitchen.

"Make sure you find one with the most saliva possible!" Donatello calls after him.

A thought suddenly hits me. "Can't we just get Mikey's DNA off of his T-phone?"

"Yes," Donatello answers me. I can see mischief sparkling in his brown eyes. "But I thought making Raph dig through Mikey's spittle would be a lot more entertaining."