TMNT are the property of Mirage. I own no property at the moment, but I do own Baker.

Cautions

And if the strangers from earlier found him again- he would not allow them to live.

Mikey's illness kept him bedridden and babbling for several days. He would seem to be fine, and rational, and then the fever would spike up and he would insist that Victor had been in the warehouse; that Victor was controlling the rats; that Victor was alive!

"I'm telling you, Don! I saw him!" he insisted the third night after they'd brought him home. His eyes were bright and shiny with fever, and he couldn't seem to lay still, he was so restless.

Splinter had gone with Leonardo to April's for more supplies ("Sensei! Really, I can-" Leonardo had started, but the fiery look in Splinter's eye alerted him to the fact that he had better not risk another humiliating spanking), and Raph was busy in the kitchen making a mess in his attempt to fix something special for Mikey to hopefully eat. He'd not been taking in enough nourishment, and that worried Raph to no end.

"Mikey, we've been over this," Don patiently tried again to convince him of his hallucination. "Victor is dead. You only thought it was Victor because-"

"No! No, Don, I'm not crazy and I'm not stupid!" he vehemently insisted. "I know what you and Sensei keep telling me, but I also know what I saw! It was Victor! Only he looked a bit different, but then, he probably would... I mean... that kind of injury... and when I called him 'Victor', he got all strange-looking, and started yelling and holding his head..."

Mikey's voice trailed off into uncertainty, and he stared past Don at something that only he could see, something in his memory of that night.

Don sighed, and got Mike to drink some water.

"Mikey," he said carefully. "The device that Bishop put into Victor's brain would have-"

"Don! I know what I saw!"

"Hey, bro! Calm down," Raph's unusually mild voice chided Mikey as he came into the room with a steaming bowl of "look what I got for you! Chicken noodle soup! I made it myself! And no, Don," he quickly cut off the smart remark that he knew was coming from his brainy brother, "I don't mean that I opened the can without help! This is your recipe, Mikey!"

Mikey sniffed it suspiciously as Don made an incredulous face.

"Are you out of your mind? Mikey's recipe calls for cayenne pepper and Tabasco sauce!"

"It clears out your cold in a damn hurry," Raph pointed out.

"It clears out a lot of stuff in a damn hurry," Don retorted. "Or have you forgotten what it's like to have fiery hot diarrhea?"

"That was a fluke," Raph shrugged. "Come on, Mikey! Eat some of this while its good and hot.

Mike took a tentative spoonful. With the critical eye of a master chef, he examined what was in the spoon, sniffing again. He blew on it, and carefully sipped a bit of the broth into his mouth, his tongue swishing it much the way the most skilled taster examines for some prize a really fine bottle of wine. Swallowing, he went ahead and ate some of the soup to Raph's delight.

He didn't eat much, but it seemed to help. His fever was beginning to recede again, and his eyes didn't look as- irrational- as before.

"Thanks, Raph," he finally said, too tired to eat any more. He'd not made much of a dent in the contents, and had kept to the broth more than the extra wide noodles and lovely chunks of chicken, but he'd eaten enough to calm his mind. As he settled back in bed, he seemed more focused on reality.

Don tried once more.

"Mikey," he said carefully. "That guy you saw..."

Mikey sighed deeply.

"Don- drop it. I know what you keep saying. I know what I thought I saw. Just- just leave it at that," he said, closing his eyes. "Victor is dead; but that guy looked like Victor. And I'm too tired to argue."

So Don dropped it. For now.

"The place is deserted now," Leonardo was reporting to Splinter the fifth night since bringing Mikey back. He, Raph and Don had gone with Leatherhead and the robotic Professor Honeycutt several times since that night, to set up surveillance, but after a few days they realized that it was a futile exercise. The five of them toured the warehouse earlier that night, and no trace of the rats or their human commander could be found.

"Even the corpses of the ones we'd killed were gone," Leo continued. "The only thing we found were some human remains. Don placed an anonymous call to the police to alert them to the fact, but there's not much I think they'll be able to do. This guy and the rats have gone to ground somewhere else."

Splinter sighed. He had not gotten that strange "calling" sensation out of his mind since that night. Something about that experience haunted his dreams, interrupted his usual meditations.

Something about that night- that man- was familiar to Splinter, but he had not been able to figure it out just yet.

"Perhaps we are safe for the moment in not knowing where he has gone," he said, thinking of Michelangelo. He was finally recovering from this illness, but though he insisted that they were right, that he had probably hallucinated that this guy was Victor, Splinter knew his son. Michelangelo would, if the man was still in that warehouse, be tempted to once again find out if it were true or not- merely to convince himself.

"Perhaps," Leatherhead said, as they rose to depart for home. "But I am sure we will hear of this being again."

The next morning, Mikey was almost ready to be released from bed. Though the fever was finished, he was still weak from lack of appetite. The only thing he'd seemed interested in eating was the soup that Raph had made for him from his own recipe. They indulged him in this limited meal, however. Anything to get him up and on his feet again. He'd reached that stage in his recovery where he'd become annoying to the point of losing all sympathy from his loving brothers.

"So, there I was, hanging from that wall with literally dozens of rats crawling around and under and over my poor little tootsies!" he was relating to April, who had come to visit her "poor Mikey" with flowers and candy, as well as take her ongoing lessons with Splinter.

"My goodness!" April shivered involuntarily. "Don't get me wrong, Master Splinter, no offense, but I would totally have freaked seeing that many rats running around like that."

"Believe me, my daughter, when I say that it was a very disturbing sight to myself as well," he replied without going into detail. "Now, let us go begin your lesson."

As they left the room, the others noticed that Don had a strange look on his face.

"You say they were swarming around you, right?" he questioned Mikey, who was examining the candy, looking for a choice piece to begin with.

"Yeah! I remember them crawling all over me on the roof," he said, gleefully popping a caramel into his mouth. He just loved the way the chewy treat slowly squished and almost stuck to his teeth as he chewed vigorously. "I was being dragged, and I kind of woke up, and I remember feeling their little claws on my legs! Talk about creepy!"

And he shivered at the memory, while searching for yet another delicious piece of candy to rebuild his strength with.

Don looked concerned. He'd examined Mikey when they'd gotten him home, but hadn't noticed anything unusual- still, that illness was more than a normal cold- that was some infection, and Mikey still wasn't ready to get out of bed for more than a few hours at a time. He fixed his baby brother with a serious stare.

"You weren't bit, were you?"

Mikey tried to remember. He hurt so much as it was with this illness that it was hard to recall...

"Yea, I think on my toe," he smiled, pulling one foot out from under the blanket and wiggling the digit in question under Don's nose. "Are you gonna kiss it and make it all better?"

Don just shook his head and disappeared from the room.

Raph exchanged looks with Leo.

"Oh-oh!" he said, looking a bit concerned. "Rabies! What if them rats had rabies?"

Leo frowned, looked quickly at Mike- who was suddenly frozen against the pillow, his foot still sticking up in the air.

"Ra-rabies?" Mikey gulped, staring hard at the toe, trying to see if there were any strange signs that would indicate that he might be in danger. The candy box slid to the floor, where it miraculously did not spill its contents; but Mikey could have cared less.

"Yeah," Leo said to Raph in a worried tone. "Damn! I hope Don has something in the infirmary that can deal with it. If it's not too late, that is. After all, it's been over five days..."

"Rabies vaccine isn't something that even Brainac could get hold of," Raph shook his head, eyes scared. "And if he did... well, it's like you said... already been five days."

And they both looked at Mikey as if studying him for some sort of sign.

"I remember seeing on that one documentary that it's like what, six shots?"

"SIX SHOTS?"

"Calm down, Mikey!" Raph soothed, moving to the bed and attempting to comfort his baby brother. "You don't need to worry about any old shots! Don probably doesn't have the stuff anyway."

Now Mikey was getting ready to panic- he just couldn't make up his mind which bit of news to panic over.

"Yeah, I mean, just think," Leo said, coming closer. "It's one shot in or near the wound"- here Mikey grabbed his foot protectively, covering his toe with both hands as if trying to keep it from hearing this horror story- "and five follow up shots during a twenty-eight day period."

Raph shook his head, pity welling out of his eyes as he looked at his brother.

"No need to worry 'bout it, though," Raph said sadly. "You know Don ain't got that kind of stuff in his magic infirmary." He suddenly looked hopeful, and turned to Leo. "Hey! He has penicillin! That might help! I mean, it helped with his illness! Maybe it... maybe it already..."

His voice faltered, faded to nothing. He looked as if he were about to cry, yet was trying to keep it together for the sake of his brother.

"I- I mean," his voice cracked, as he struggled to hold onto his composure, "it HAS to help! Right Leo? We aren't gonna lose-"

"SENSEI!" Mikey screamed, diving under the covers and wondering if the memorial that he had planned for Victor would now be for him.

"Be strong, Raph," Leo, too, sounded teary to Mikey as he cowered under the blanket. "Be strong- for Mikey!"

Then Mikey heard what sounded like muffled sobs coming from his brothers. NO! This can't be happening to him! This can't be happening!

He heard Don reenter the room.

"Mikey, I need to- what? What's so funny? Why are you guys laughing like that?"

Laughing? LAUGHING?

Mikey pulled his head from under the blanket to see tears on his brothers' faces all right- tears of uncontrollable mirth!

LAUGHING?

"So- not- funny!" he pouted, slouching down in the bed and turning his back on his heartless brothers.

"Jeeze, Mikey, where'd your sense of humor go?" Raph laughed as Don sat on the bed, pulling the cover off of his brother's feet. But Mikey would not respond. He'd been so sick, and scared, and had almost become rat-chow, and they were making jokes about rabies.

"Mikey, let me look at that bite closer," Don, also ignoring his two still-laughing brothers, tried to get Mikey to cooperate, but he was unwilling for Don to touch it.

"No! You want to stick an old rabies shot into it, and it's sore enough," he huffed into his pillow, trying to will them to go away.

"Rabies? Mikey, only mammals can get rabies," Don said, using an old trick Master Splinter taught him. He tickled Mikey behind the knee, and as soon as the foot shot out in reaction, Don had caught it in a viselike grip.

"Don!" Mikey, turning over again, protested- and then paused. "Hey! We're not mammals, are we?"

"Nope. Only mammals get rabies," Don soothed him as he started wiping down the now noticeable red mark on the bottom of Mikey's toe with an antiseptic pad. "Hmmm... some infection, but nothing serious I'm sure. Yeah, and the other thing is, rats rarely if ever get rabies as well. In fact, there is no documented case of rabies from rat bites in the United States."

Mikey sat up a bit more, relief replacing his anger at his brothers' heartless and cruel joke.

"So that means nothing is wrong!" he grinned.

"Well- there are other things that an untended rat bite could cause," Don said, as he got out the iodine and a Band-Aid. "But that penicillin I gave you during your illness probably will take care of it. Still-"

And before Mikey could react, Don had carefully applied the burning red medicine to the still raw spot and quickly slapped a Band-Aid over it.

"Damn it, Don!" Mikey yelled, trying to blow on his poor toe without removing the Band-Aid. "I thought you said-"

Now it was Don's turn to laugh.

"Better safe than sorry," he said through his chuckling. "And I don't care how sick you are, don't you ever do such a stupid dumb ass thing again!"

They were getting closer. Baker had had to change locations too many times in the past five days to not realize that they were closing in on him. He'd been unable to contact his one and only friend, and his funds were running low. He'd not been able to return to the mission where he sometimes volunteered; the place was being watched by too many people.

The weather was still cold, but since the snow, it had not been as bone-chillingly freezing as it had been; still, finding a warm place to sleep was becoming impossible.

He roamed further away from "safe" areas. His main goal at the moment was to try to lose these three sets of people looking for him! The one group had pulled back a bit, while this rumored group of ninja (NINJA! For a moment he felt as if he'd been dropped into a really bad martial arts film!) had picked up the pace.

And knowing that Bishop's organization was still searching for him after all this time made going to the authorities almost a death sentence. They would get him there in no time, and nothing he could say would convince the police to not turn him over to the "feds", as they would represent themselves.

The warehouses by the water were a dangerous hiding place, but tonight he was tired and desperate. He'd noticed it earlier on the news- he'd been hanging out in an appliance shop and had seen the report of the discovery of skeletal remains in an abandoned building- the police were baffled, the deceased had been identified through an id found close by to be some gang member- his fellow gang members, rounded up as suspects in his death, wouldn't talk except to spin some horror story about a monster who controlled rats- and an unnamed source in the coronor's office backed up part of the gang members' story; the dead person had been pretty much eaten by rats.

Baker scouted the place out. The police tape was still in place, and though no one was around any more to guard the scene, he had noticed that the patrol cars made frequent passes, keeping an eye on it as it were.

He was able to enter the building easily. The eeriness of the place was strong, but his fear of being found was stronger. Here, he reasoned, he would have at least one night's sleep without having to worry if anyone was looking for him. No one would think to search this place, espeically as the police still seemed interested in it.

Swallowing down the knowledge of what had apparently taken place in here, he searched for a way to the upper level; found one, and after a brief and careful examination, chose an empty office that still had an old, battered couch in it as well as a door that would close (though not lock).

He stared at the dust-covered, stained couch. It would not be comfortable, but it would be off of the floor. Wedging the door shut with bits of debris and then blocking it with the empty desk that no one had wanted, he prepared to finally get some rest. He noted that there was a window here- as much as he hated the thought of having to leap for his life, at least he had a way out.

He lay down on the filthy couch, bundled up in his coat, and fell asleep.