A/N: Sooooo, I haven't written anything in awhile. I really love the new TMNT show and I had this random little idea pop in my mind after suffering a pretty bad concussion last week. I realized that human beings are ridiculously fragile and despite their shells, the turtles are probably just as fragile. So then, how is it they can get knocked around so much and suffer no lasting damage? I felt like addressing that after the most recent episode, "Slash and Destroy" aired since they all get pummeled pretty good. This story takes place before the very end of the episode. There's no real plot to this fic - it was just something I wanted to get down and since I haven't posted anything in forever, I figured I'd upload it.

Disclaimer: Don't own, but oh, the fun I'd have if I did!

"Mikey, sit still." Don grumbled irritably. He only had one good arm and that one was currently holding a tiny flashlight. Normally he'd use his other arm to forcefully hold his youngest brother down, but that currently wasn't an option since it was resting in a sling.

"Don, I'm fine. Really."

Donatello sighed. "No. You're not. You've been off since we got back to the lair. You can't seem to walk without weaving every which way and you look like you want to throw up. Now hold still while I check your eyes." He shined the light into Michelangelo's eyes and watched as his pupils constricted.

"What are you looking for?" The youngest asked.

"Brain damage."

There was a loud snort from across the room. "You're a few years too late, Donnie," Raph forced a chuckle.

Mikey leaned forward to stick out his tongue and nearly fell off the stool on which he was perched. "Woah, dude, the world's spinning. Make it stop." He turned a darker shade of green and looked ready to lose his dinner.

"Turn your head to the left," Donatello ordered.

Michelangelo didn't move. "I can't, my neck is crazy stiff right now. Hurts, too."

"Hm, well, that's to be expected, considering the pounding you took. You've probably pulled more than a few muscles, though, as far as I can tell, there's no serious damage. However, you do have a mild traumatic brain injury."

"Wait, what?" Mikey's face fell.

"It's the technical term for a concussion. And you've got a pretty bad one. You're going to need to lie down and rest."

"Aww," the orange-clad turtle whined. "I don't wanna."

"Rest? Donnie, are you sure?" Leo took that moment to approach them. "I thought the worst thing to do after suffering a concussion was to rest."

Donatello turned to put his flashlight down, wincing as he accidentally bumped his injured arm against the table. "Actually, that's totally false. Doctors used to believe sleeping with a concussion might cause you to slip into a coma or even die, but more recent studies show that sleep is actually required to help the brain heal."

"Huh. Well, you heard him, Mikey. Get to bed."

"What? Nuh-uh. Raph and Donnie were smacked around just as much and you're not making them go to sleep."

Don adjusted the sling that held his arm. "I've already looked Raph over and he's bruised, but not much else. And the only thing really wrong with me is my arm."

"Speaking of which," Leo looked him over, "how's it feeling?"

"It's pretty painful, actually, but my pain killers should be kicking in soon. Initially I thought it was sprained, but the amount of bruising and the level of discomfort suggests that I've suffered an incomplete fracture to the ulna." He was met with blank stares and he heaved a sigh in exasperation. "There are two bones in our forearms, the ulna and the radius. The ulna is the longer of the two bones and runs along the side of the arm opposite where our thumbs are."

"What about the fracture part?" Raph asked. His eyes were downcast and it was obvious he was still beating himself up over the night's events.

"An incomplete fracture is just that: incomplete. The bone is cracked, but not separated. It's painful, but it should heal fairly quickly. It's really not that big a deal."

"Yeah, no big deal..." Raph crossed his arms over his chest and looked away from his siblings. Leo placed a comforting hand on his arm, but he rolled his shoulder to knock the offending hand away. He turned and walked away without a word.

"Raph-"

"Let him go, Leo." Don helped Michelangelo down from his stool and steadied him before he could fall over. "None of us understand what he's going through right now. His pet tried to kill us and he needs to come to grips with that."

"But it's not his fault!" Mikey shouted. "He knows that right? It's not like he told Spike to attack us."

"I know," Don placed a hand on the youngest's shoulder. "But Raph is still going to blame himself and I don't think there's much we can do to change that."

"Think if I give him some of my comics he might cheer up?"

The two older turtles smiled at that.

"Not likely," Leo replied, "but the gesture certainly couldn't hurt."

"Awesome!" Michelangelo bounced in place, exuberance written across his features. It was a short lived emotion, though, as the world started spinning around him with the movement. Leo and Don steadied him.

"You can try cheering him up later. Right now you need to lie down before you make yourself worse. Leo, can you handle him?"

"Sure thing, Donnie." The oldest turtle wrapped his youngest brother's arm across his shoulder and helped walk him towards his bedroom.

Donatello watched them walk off before looking over at Raphael. He was clearly punishing himself mentally. He would get that way every so often, retreating into his head and becoming overly sullen. Not a single one of them blamed their brother for what happened with Spike, but the hotheaded turtle could not view the situation as they did. Forgiving himself for what had happened would be a slow process, but Donatello had no doubt his brother would get there.

There was an old saying about time healing all wounds. While it wasn't completely accurate (let's face it, mental scarring and anguish sometimes only get worse with the passage of time), it wasn't entirely false, either, and they had each other to lean on. There was a pattern with Raph. He would withdraw from his brothers and either become more hostile than he already was or become downright sullen.

The sound of the video game across the lair caught Donnie's attention.

"Leo, I told you he needs to rest!"

"I can rest when I'm dead, bro! This game isn't gunna beat itself."

"What? Mikey, that's not how that works! Our bodies need constant rest and recuperation, you can't just-"

"Let him play this one round, Donnie. How much damage could it do?"

"How much damage? Seriously? All those flashing lights could make his concussion wo- you know what? Never mind. This is a battle I'm clearly not going to win. You get twenty minutes, Mikey, and then I'm going to unplug that machine, gut it, and hide said guts in my lab where I know you'll never find them.

"Awww, seriously, dude?"

"Seriously. Woah, use the eye beam!" He ran up behind his brothers, fully intent on giving his advice on a game he wasn't altogether good at. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Master Splinter approach Raph. He couldn't hear what either was saying, but judging by the smile on Raph's face, Master Splinter had said exactly what needed to be said. While time didn't necessarily heal all wounds, for them, family certainly did.