Dear Readers,

Currently without anything to do and my Internet us down. This seemed like the only thing that could kill some time before the computer people show up at my dorm door and attempt to fix my computer.

Been meaning to write a TMNT fanfiction for the longest time. I started a few, but never really got into one long enough to stick with it. We'll just have to see where this one takes me. smiles

Enjoy the read!

.: KareBear :.

"Stuck in the Middle with You"

Chapter 1

Contrary to the title of this tale, the story is not about the middle child of a certain reptilian family. In the family of four brothers, there was no middle child. No, this story is about the youngest child. The dreamer, the idealist, the passive, and the purest in a family of very serious turtle New Yorkers. This child's name was Michelangelo, and he was the youngest of four mutant ninja turtles and one father figure rat living in the sewers of the Big Apple. This family, with fear that they would be discovered in the outside world, had lain dormant and led a secretive live in the sewers they called home. However, this was not the life for the youngest son. He dreamed of soaring the skies, sailing the seas, and traveling the lands in search of something greater. What that "greater something" be was a mysterious, but he believed in his heart that it was out there, and he only need leave the sewers to find what it was. However, every day he awoke from his dreams, he found himself slowly getting pulled down. He would awake in the same bed, the same place, the same sewer that was hidden from the world.

Though he longed for a life away from crime fighting and sewer drains, he did love the people he was with. Loved them more then even he himself knew. His family of three older brothers and his sensei were the only things he had in the world, and treasured them more then his very live. Though his brothers tended to tease him for his child like ways, he still loved them unconditionally. It was heart breaking sometimes; the way they would go on and nag him about his dreams and wishes, yet he stilled loved them with all his heart and soul. Sometimes naivety can be the like ignorance, blissful until realization.

Our story started off like any other day. To be more accurate, it was night. The sky was clear, the roads were semi empty, and, for once, the streets seemed to be clear of crime and destruction. This made the second oldest, Raphael, very uptight and rambunctious. This didn't help the family at all as everyone knew that when Raphael was restless, he had a tendency of snapping at the first person that lit his very small fuse. The third oldest, Donatello, was quite ecstatic over the recent lessening of crime and was now given the optimal amount of time to work on his scientific projects and discoveries. The oldest and leader of the group, Leonardo, neither ecstatic nor rambunctious, had taken the time to mediate and focus his thoughts on improving his mental abilities. Michelangelo, who didn't exactly enjoy looking for fights, had taken the time to position himself on the couch with his sketchbook and half used pencil and let his imagination run wild across the page.

Raphael, who had yet to exert all his energy into the nearby punching bag, banged away furiously upon the large bag of hanging sand. Between the noise of his grunting, the mumbled uniformities, and the sound of the bag being impaled upon over and over, was enough to make any civil person a little testy. Donatello wished for some piece and quiet so that he may continue his work, Leonardo wished to have peace in order to concentrate, and Michelangelo wished for peace in order to hear his imaginations suggestions on his current piece of art. After about two hours of this, the three other turtles had, had enough. Michelangelo, being the closest to the noise however, broke first.

"Raph!" Mike being in a loud voice so as to get the attention of his older brother. It worked and Raphael stopped to listen while panting for air. This time Michelangelo spoke more commonly "Think you could tone it down a bit dude? I'm trying to draw and the bros are trying to concentrate on their stuff."

Though not eloquently put, that was basically what everyone wanted to say and both Don and Leo sighed a breathe of relief when the noise had stopped.

Raphael, however, angry enough as it was, was not in the mood to be stopped for such an infinitesimal triviality. Though taking into account how Mike had asked him, he continued his practice without answering Mike (in order to assure himself that he wouldn't snap at his youngest brother).

Mike, who felt slightly hurt at his older brother ignorance, had gently laid his paper and pencil upon the makeshift coffee table and, jumping over the couch, walked over to speak to his brother.

After getting about two feet away from, Mike stopped and spoke.

"Come on dude." He said in a little louder voice then normal to get through the grunts and mumbles his brother was making. "It's been about two hours, can't you relax for a bit?" Mike, suddenly feeling that this would give his older brother reason to snap, decided to lessen the blow a bit "Let's make some popcorn and I'll throw on a...."

"QUIET!!!" Raphael finally snapped at him and brought away from his practice to verbally snap at his brother. "By the shell, you are annoying sometimes!!"

Mike, taken back, began in a little lower, yet slightly scared tone

"Dude, it's okay bro! We just want you to relax a bit, you been pounding away at that thing for a while now. Aren't you tired?"

"No, I am not tired!! I peeved as shell cause I gotta sit here and listen to you gripe when I could be fighting some thug!" Raphael walked away a bit to practice some of his ninja skills by himself.

Mike, not done with the conversation yet, stood where he was and continued.

"But Raph, we looked all over the city tonight and it's clean! Don't you think you should take it easy? I mean, how many times does New York have no crime!" Mike said with a smile and a soft laugh.

Raphael, however, was not amused and turned to his brother with a sour look on his face.

"That's what's weird!! New York is NEVER this quiet. Something must be up." He said turned towards the door. "I'm going to have a run through again."

He went to walk away, when a hand touched his shoulders. He turned to see Mikey smiling at him.

"I'll go with you!" he said with a helpful smile.

"No you won't." Raphael said in a huff and shook his hand off his shoulder.

"Why not??"

"Cause you'll get in my way!" he said turning back to him sharply

"No I won't!" Mikey replied with a angry, hurt expression.

Raph turned to his brother and took a few steps to get close to his face. He then took his left index finger and began poking Mikey hard against his left shoulder after every sentence.

"You will get in my way! Just like you ALWAYS do! When the going gets tough, you're ALWAYS the first to get cold feet! Just stay here and keep doodling in that stupid sketch thing of yours and LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Mikey needed a moment to pause and think all this over. He felt a rush of sadness sweep over him from his feet to his eyes and stay brimming at his eyes. He suddenly could feel how cold the floor was and the misty air that lurked around him.

He felt the urge to yell at Raph, to tell him that those were lies, but he couldn't find the words, and could only say a few words in a low voice.

"It's...." he said as he took a gulp of salvia and tried to suppress the large lump that had formed in his throat ".... it's not a stupid sketch book...."

"It's NOT???" Raph asked angrily as he walked over and grabbed the book.

Mikey instinctively raised his arms, as if to grab it from thin air. His face became worried and he froze in fear for what Raph might do in his state.

Meanwhile Leo had cracked his eye open and listened to his brothers ranting. Don leaned back in his chair to watch. Both were ready to pounce on Raph at any moment.

Raph took the book and shook it like a rag doll.

"All you do is sketch, eat, and sleep! You don't contribute a thing to this family. And this stupid sketch book is just one of the reasons!"

"Raph, please don't ...." Mikey was getting increasingly worried for the safety of his sketchbook. He had his most scared treasures in there. His love and sadness, hatred and fears, sketched across those pages. "...please give that back, Raph!" he took a few steps forward, but was cautious. He didn't want Raph to do anything Mikey would regret.

"You need to get your mind out of your fantasies and DO SOMETHING USEFUL FOR ONCE!!"

Mikey stopped and starred at Raph. Why was he saying all this? Was this what Raph really thought??

"And this....stupid....piece....of....CRAP!..is just one the causes for all this!"

There was a tearing noise that echoed throughout the entire lair. It was echoed out deep into the far reaches of the sewers and seem to last forever. It echoed and touched every part of the underground drains and pipes, walls and cracks, and every ear that could catch just a hint of the sound knew, instinctively, that it was wrong.

Splinters eyes snapped open as he sensed something wrong suddenly course through the walls and touched his soul with the sound of tearing paper.

Don slowly got up from his chair and starred in shocked amazement. Not able to move or speak, for he felt the sound and felt the eerie presence that came with it.

Leo had stood and found himself able to take a few bold leaps and bounds, but just stop short of his two brothers for he two felt something about odd about the way the paper sounded as it was teared to shreds.

Michelangelo stood in silences as he watched the pieces of teared paper fall around like fallen leaves in the days just before winter. He too heard the strange sound that came from the tearing of paper, but unlike the others, he immediately knew what was causing the sound. The paper wasn't just paper, it was his imagination and inspiration, his feelings and heart.

Raphael wasn't ripping paper....

....he was ripping apart of Michelangelo's soul...

Raphael was too blinded by his rage and too deaf by his own anger driven thoughts to hear the true sound of the tearing paper.

"This is what I think of your stupid sketches!" he through the pieces of his brothers work into the air and watched as they slowly fell to the ground.

Michelangelo watched them till they had gently touched and lay delicately upon the ground. He didn't lift his head; he didn't want to, he couldn't look his brother in the eyes.

Raphael was about to continue, when he felt something grab him from behind and put him into hold even he couldn't escape from. He turned quickly to see it was Donatello, with an expression he had never seen before.

"Do...."

Before Raph could finish, he felt some suddenly slam into his stomach. Something swift and strong, powered by the unknown force of anger. Raphael quickly jerked his head forward as the air escaped his lungs and the pain of the impact took its place. His eyes caught sight of Leonardo with the same expression as Donatello.

"w.....wh....why did...." Raph gasped as he felt his legs go numb as Donatello released him and let his limp body fall to the ground.

Raphael grabbed his stomach and clutched it in anger as his eyes watered every so slightly from pain. He slowly looked at Leo, waiting for his explanation. Leonardo delivered.

"How dare you call yourself a ninja...."

At these words, Michelangelo snapped back up. He looked at Leonardo, who stood with his back to him just a few feet away and Donatello in back of Raphael.

"...how dare you call yourself our brother...." Leonardo finished with a tone that was oddly calm and composed.

Michelangelo wouldn't hear any of that, and before he could think, he felt the words rushing to his lips.

"STOP!!!!!!!!"

Leonardo blinked and, the unknown expression leaving his face, turned to his youngest brother. Donatello quickly looked up and, the expression also leaving his face, starred at him as well. Raphael, who had been slowly getting up, stopped half way to hear what his youngest brother had to say.

Michelangelo felt something strange rise in him. Something that stopped all his thoughts of the words he wanted to speak. He felt the air sucked away from him and his body go strangely numb. Something wrapped tightly around him, as if strings were attached to his body and they were suddenly being pulled. It's as if his body wasn't allowing him to say the words he intended to say. He drifted his head down and smiled. Why couldn't he do this? What was stopping him from saying what he wanted to say?

....it was...

He laughed, lifted his head, smiled at his brothers, and lifted up in his hand as if to wave off the whole event.

"You guys! Don't do this! It was my fault anyway...." He didn't open his eyes; he didn't want to see their faces. He felt that he had to keep them closed, for opening them would open up something else he wanted to keep deep inside.

"Michelangelo...." Leonardo began, but was quickly stopped as his brother bent down and began to gently pick up the pieces to his destroyed sketchbook.

"Really, it's okay. It's not Raph's fault. It's my fault. He's right. He's right about a lot of that stuff. This sketch book was distracting me...."

He picked up the remaining pieces and looked down at them. Absentmindedly, he placed them on the coffee table and stood back up with his eyes closed to his brothers.

"...I guess it's better that it's gone! Right guys?" he felt himself slowly inching away from them.

"Mikey, you know that's..." Don began, but was also cut off by his brother.

"...I guess I needed that thing gone. I can focus on my training and stuff...Ummm..." he suddenly felt the large lump forming back into his throat. "...I think I need some air. You guys want anything from the surface?..." without waiting for them to answer, he started off. Not running, but in a heightened pace.

Donatello reached out and tried to call his brother back, but found that he was too chocked up to find his voice.

Michelangelo walked until his felt the presence of his master up ahead, and stopped when he was next to him.

"Hey Master Splinter!" He tried to exclaim in the most cheerful voice he could muster.

"Michelangelo..." he could feel his son's pain and was almost brought to tears by his son's inability to be angry for the injustice that had been placed upon him; Michelangelo simply loved his brothers too much.

And with a turn of his head and a slow opening and closing of the door, Michelangelo was gone.

Even after he was gone, there was a eerie air that lurked about the room and everyone's eyes laid fixed upon the door, as if any moment now he would return into the room and shed tears of sadness and cry out in a loud voice for what had happened, but it never happened. After a long time of silence and waiting, Splinter was the first to break the silence with a long sigh and a turning gaze to Raphael.

Raphael had watched the event in silence, his left hand still gently placed upon his stomach. He wasn't sure how to react and didn't know how to respond to his brothers' "happy" exit.

When he noticed Splinter staring at him, he felt his heart twist worse then it already was. It wasn't a look of anger or disgust, but one of pure sadness. As if he was expressing Mikey's sadness for him.

With a slow turn, Master Splinter turned and entered his quarters once again. He simply was too saddened to speak with his son at the moment.

Leonardo and Donatello were also too upset to argue with their brother and simply walked away and towards their designated rooms, both peering at the door as they passed it in the hopes that Michelangelo would open it at that moment and cry upon their shoulders. Unfortunately it didn't occur, and Donatello and Leonardo slowly trudged to their rooms and closed the door quietly.

And then there was Raphael.

Michelangelo walked along with his head lowered in contemplative thought, but as his thoughts became more enraged, he felt his feet becoming more and more quickened. It was slow, but steady. His thoughts were growing more and more depressing and desperate, and as they did his pace became more and more quickened. He was soon flying full speed down the sewer pipes, flying further and further away from his home.

Raphael felt his legs turn back into jelly and he upon his knees. As he did so, there was a loud thud and the surrounding objects shook a bit from the impact of his fall. The table shook enough that the light pieces of torn paper were gently lifted into the air and floated gently in front of him upon the floor.

Michelangelo couldn't tell how long he had been running for, and didn't know when he would stopped, but just knew that he wanted to keep going and that the destination didn't matter. He's feet were cut from shards of broken bottle glass that he carelessly stepped on and his eyes were misty from the air that circled around him. He needed to get out. Out. Out from here. Away from this.

Raphael slowly and with quivering hands picked up the pieces of Michelangelo's torn dreams and the dawning realization of what he had down was slowly setting upon him. He was putting the pictures together in his mind and saw why his brother treasured this so and as more and more pictures from his brothers soul came into view in his mind the more the sadness began to grip him.

Michelangelo continued still as his feet bleed a trail along the way. His limbs were tried, his head was swirling with thoughts and emotions, but one thought drove him on. He had to get away, he had to get away ...... far away.

Soon he found himself coming up upon a dim and distant light. He didn't bother to think what it was; all he knew was that he had to keep going.

Then the light of the moon rushed upon him and he came to a quick and hastened halt. He was at the end of the tunnel. He was overtopping a large and open field filled with, strangely enough, wild flowers that basked brilliantly in the moonlight. Far in the distance was the city; far away were the people they so feared, the people they hide their faces and existence from.

He was tired of running

Tried of hiding.

The world was just as much his as it was the humans.

He wanted to be free.

Free from the sewers.

Free from the people.

Free from the pain.

Free.

Free.

FREE!

The thoughts overwhelmed his head and he suddenly felt like he was going to burst and something took hold of him that he couldn't explain. For so long he had never showed his emotions. He was the clown who hid behind the painted mask. He wanted to tear the mask off. He felt his hands reaching for his bandana and he began to unconsciously try to tear it off his head as he fell to his knees. He was hiding. All the time hiding. From the world, from the people, from....his brothers...

Finally the bandana broke and his hand fell to his knees and with the "painted mask" off, he lifted his head and let out a cry. The cry echoed throughout the fields of wild flowers, through the sewers, and through the city. The tears poured out from his eyes and the harder he struggled to regain control, the harder it was to stop. He tried to grin his teeth together, but this only enabled his breathing and made it even harder to stop. The liquid that poured from his eyes fell like large droplets upon the ground and when he shook his head uncontrollable, the concentrated liquid sadness flew and sprinkled upon the flowers below. The flowers sprinkled as the moonlight shined upon the newly watered buds.

And Michelangelo continued still.

The tears pouring from his eyes.

This wasn't about the sketchbook.

This was about his feelings,

his dreams,

and the part of the soul that had been broken.

He suddenly wanted freedom more then he could bare and the thought that he couldn't have it drove him deeper into despair.

He wouldn't have this. The world truly was just as much his as anyone else's.

He felt himself slowly stand and take a step into the moonlight.

He had done this so many times before while coming above ground from underneath the city, but this time was different.

The moon light feel upon his shoulders and the wind blew against his reptilian skin. It was fresh, new and foreign. The flowers blew and tried so hard to touch this new and unique creature.

He stood there for what felt like forever. Basking in the moonlight, the tears still pouring down his face. In that moment, nothing mattered. Not the fact that he may be spotted, not the dangers that could be around, nothing mattered. All that mattered was at that moment, he felt....free.

He felt his arms being lifted up mysteriously, but he was unconsciously spreading his arms out, as if wanting to bask as much of the moonlight as possible.

The moon answered his prayers and shone more brilliantly then it had in a long time. The stars too, shined extra brilliantly, and the clouds responded by parting away and letting the sliver streams of light sparkle down.

Michelangelo wanted one thing, just one thing. He repeated this thing, over and over again in his mind until his voice caught on and spoke it aloud.

"...I..."

The clouds circled around him, but still the moon shone brilliantly upon his body.

"...Want..."

The stars shone and began to dance across the sky.

"...To be..."

As fast as lighting, something griped the hearts of the brothers Raphael, Leonardo, Donatello, and their Master, Splinter. From each position they were in, they immediately bolted up. This feeling was wrong, and they knew it. It grasped their souls quickly and left just as quickly as it came, leaving a feeling of horror and panic in it's place.

Alone in the living room, Raphael spoke the words on everyone's lips.

"....Michelangelo?..."

The flowers blew wildly in the wind, until their very petals began to break off and dance around Michelangelo. Something was happening, and even he knew so, but it didn't matter, for at that moment, he felt that he was being lifted up and believed that whatever he wished for at that moment, would truly come true.

He then spoke the words that finished his prayer to the higher beings above.

"...free..."

And with this he suddenly felt the warm lift from his toes through his body and out through his forehead. His tears instantly stopped and all that was left was the small traces of the liquid trail from his outburst. His hand gently opened and a small orange tattered object left his hand with a gentle brush of the wind.

His body stumbled and began to fall onto his shell, the grass and flowers doing their past to soften the landing.

The petals that were dancing about in the wind suddenly stopped and fell upon his fallen body. The clouds came and covered the brilliant moon and all was as it was once more.

The small tattered pieces of cloth flew in the wind and flew away.

It was his painted mask.

End of Chapter 1

Okay, I know this was kind of dramatic, but it's really supposed to be. And NO! Mikey isn't dead....or is he?

HA! Not telling, you'll have to wait to find out.

Hope you enjoyed it everyone x3