His heart pounded against the plates on his chest and his blood roared in his ears. A small bead of sweat dripped down his neck and slid under his carapace. He'd never snuck out, not really - maybe once in his entire life. Sneaking out was for rebels and troublemakers and Raphaels, and Hamato Donatello simply did not fit any of those categories.

And as such, his conscience was having extreme difficulty with allowing him to walk out of the Lair's entrance. Every step made him cringe and guilt was surging through his veins the farther he crept, but Vince was waiting for him at the top of the Byerly Building and he was not going to let him down. He'd promised, after all.

Okay, strictly speaking, the odds of Vince actually still being at the top of the building were slim to none (after all, it was well past midnight now, and all sane people were in bed). The way the teen acted right before he hung up the phone should've been answer enough, but Donnie had to be certain. Vince's life could quite literally be hanging in the balance, and if something happened, Donnie would never be able to forgive himself.

So he took a deep breath to steel his nerves and then bolted down the tunnel, straight towards the surface.

Exactly four and a half minutes later, Donnie was standing in a shadowed corner, anxiously scanning the graveled rooftop. There was nobody else to be found.

Simultaneous feelings of relief and dread welled up in his gut and he inhaled through his nose in an effort to try and calm himself. Okay. Okay. You figured that something like this would happen. He's probably fine.

Just to be on the safe side, though, the genius turtle checked the sidewalks surrounding the building. Nobody there, either. And nobody was screaming, so he figured that Vince had probably chickened out entirely.

With a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, Donatello turned and headed back to the Lair, feeling much older than his nineteen years proclaimed him to be.

Mikey met him at the door.

The youngest of the turtles had a frown on his face and his arms crossed as he tried, and failed, to look tough. "Where did you go? You realize it's, like, three o'clock in the morning, right?"

Despite himself, Donnie couldn't help but retort. "Did Leo send you to check on me?" he asked, the words coming out sharper than intended. He brushed it off as exhaustion - not disappointment - and pretended not to notice the hurt in his brother's eyes.

"Leo's asleep," Mikey said coolly, following the genius upstairs. "Has been for about an hour now."

"Great. He'll get three whole hours of sleep and then ride our shells in training."

"Actually I was going to ask Dad for a day off." That revelation was enough to stop the lankiest turtle in his tracks and he found himself turning to face Mikey again. "What?" Mikey asked, tone growing a bit defensive. "You could use the rest, too. We've all been going way too hard lately, and I really think it's time for a break."

Donnie snorted and shook his head. "Even if Splinter says yes, Leo'll never go for it."

I'll string him up by his toes until he does, the freckled ninja thought. A grin cracked into his "tough guy" façade as he imagined a wriggling Leonardo calling to Raph to help him down from the pipes that lined the dojo ceiling.

"It'll work," Mike replied instead of sharing that particular mental image. It has to. "Now go get some rest."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Mom." But Don didn't protest any further. Mikey made certain that the genius actually climbed into bed before pulling the door shut with a soft click.

Finally alone, a weary Michelangelo headed downstairs and slumped onto the couch. His shoulders sagged and he breathed a long sigh. Man, acting like a big brother is a lot harder than it looks. No wonder Leo's so tired all the time.

Slowly, the turtle's eyes closed and he fell asleep on the corner of the old, worn-out couch.