(Author's Note: I suppose this is a spiritual successor to "CFR 4: Crossfire" except that 2003 Mikey got psychic on his own. It is a follow-up to "Laugh It Hurts" featuring Mikey becoming Donnie's assistant and becoming proficient in psychology, neurology, and small medicine.
Warnings for self-injury and cutting at the end.)
Phoenix Rising
We can be legends after all
Hey woah
We can be legends after all
Hey woah
Do you remember being young
The world in our hands, your heart in a song
Do you remember being young
(Remember, remember)
Nothing's ever what it seems
Forget who you are, forget how to dream
I think it's time that we believe
(Remember, remember)
We can be wild, we can be free
We can be anything in life we want to be
We can move mountains, we can break walls
We can stand tall enough to fight and never fall
We can be legends after all
Hey woah
We can be legends after all
Hey woah
We can be legends after all
Do you remember growing up
Standing all alone, your back to the sun
Do you remember growing up
(Remember, remember)
Tell me how it's gonna be
If we win or lose wear your heart on your sleeve
I think it's time that we believe
(Remember, remember)
We can be wild, we can be free
We can be anything in life we want to be
We can move mountains, we can break walls
We can stand tall enough to fight and never fall
We can be legends after all
Hey woah
We can be legends after all
Hey woah
We can be legends after all
We can be legends, we can be legends
We can be legends after all
We can be legends, we can be legends
Stand up and shout it out if you want it
(Remember, remember)
Reach out and touch the sky 'cause you got it
We'll be here forever
Stand up and shout it out if you want it
(Remember, remember)
Reach out and touch the sky 'cause you got it
We'll be here forever
-Sleeping With Sirens, "Legends"
Maybe it was the traumatic brain injury that started it.
No. It began long, long before that.
He was twenty years old and he was going to die.
The cyborg mutant had grabbed him right in the middle of rain-soaked battle, lifted him above its canine head with long glinting teeth, and began to crush his torso with its massive hands. He had no idea what was fractured and what was broken, but he was on fire. Blood ran down his plastron and sides in rivulets; there were deep gashes starting in the flesh right above his plastron and stopping in the middle of his plastron. Gouges that would leave deep scars. The rain caused the blood to flow down across his legs.
The dog mutant's metal hand grabbed his throat and started to squeeze. A claw caught the side of his neck and blood began to pool into his collarbone. Spots formed in front of his eyes. When he coughed he tasted blood. He kicked out hard with his left foot, striking the mutant in the shoulder so hard that it stumbled. His ankle snapped violently and sent shockwaves up his leg. He shrieked and it echoed across his body; he could literally feel all the ways the bones in his lower leg were cracking.
The mutant roared in pain, suddenly. Distant thunder roared with it.
He could hear someone yelling his name. Raph, probably.
He struggled, teeth clenched, determination surging.
Another heavy metal fist connected deeply with his right temple, sending crashing lightning bolts of pain all through his head. There: a second canine cyborg mutant, who was stabbed at by Raph and brought down with a howl. The canine who held him increased its pressure. He felt his body giving in. He could hear his heartbeat, straining.
Everything fell away for a millisecond and something deep inside him yelled at him to stay, to fight. His fists tightened around his beloved nunchucks, and even as his rain-blurred vision darkened, as his breath was lost, he swung hard, connecting violently and deeply with the creature's face. He felt flesh squelch and bone shatter. The cyborg dropped him as it crumpled, slamming its metal fist against his left shoulder as if in a last attempt. Electric, shattering pain flooded down his arm; his skin broke open and he felt bone rip through it. The pain swamped every sense he had.
He was falling too fast. He felt his caparace and the back of his head crunch against the wet rooftop concrete. To his pain-ravaged mind, his body seemed to go numb, and he sank into nothing. He became nothing, he was nothing.
There was a glowing thing, azure and amber, intertwining like a knot, and it swept over the universe inside him.
Something burst inside his brain, electricity exploding, shattering something massive and mountainous. Walls crumbled into dust. The ground erupted, and more azure-amber light flooded the world. Somewhere, there was screaming, and then he fell.
He was eight years old and he was sitting with Sensei in the dojo, meditating deeply. In his mind, Sensei's voice encouraged him to reach out to the strange, pulsing sphere of light in his mind, to become familiar with it. He could almost touch it, it was going to merge with him. Beautiful shades of blue and orange reached for him and the energy sang like a lullaby; he began to laugh. He managed to press his hands against the force, which felt like a ray of sunshine on his skin. Humming flowed through his body; he felt lighter and stronger, and the energy whispered to him, the energy told him things about the world. The energy told him that it would help him know things and touch things. His sensei's aura radiated with pride, wonder, love, and astonishment. He started to turn around, ready to grin at his happy sensei.
The meditation was broken by a strange noise. He gasped and Splinter growled. And then a hole ripped in the air, and a very round-bodied man with a small beard stared at them out of the hole.
Master Splinter stood, grabbing his hand so he had to stand too. "Why have you contacted me, Ancient One?" Splinter demanded.
"Because of him," the round man smiled, pointing a finger right at him. His eyes widened and he squeezed Splinter's hand in worry.
"I could sense that awakening power inside him all the way from Japan! Do you really want to unleash that kind of ability on a mere child? Do you really think he can control it right now? You know how he is prone to distraction and attention difficulties!"
Master Splinter's eyes narrowed. "Michelangelo may not have good focus in general, but if it is something that interests him, it is nearly a hyperfocus, something the humans call Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, as I have been reading. It is an odd term for such a condition but it can be managed despite any deficiencies and disorders. I believe he will master his psionic abilities in time."
"And yet you are still unsure where those powers came from. The mutagen, perhaps? Were the abilities mutated into him? Did they alter his very neurology? Was it spirits, maybe, did spirits invade his mind when he was a baby?"
"That does not matter right now. If we need to know, we will find out later. Right now, I am his sensei and his father He is my son and my student, and I shall take that responsibility to train him!"
"Listen to me, Splinter. I know what I am talking about. He is a young child; he may always have the mindset of an eternal child. Even as an adult he may not have the mastery it takes. I admit that he has the brightest fire I have ever encountered in a soul. However, even the bright ones burn out. It would be best to lock these powers deep down until he is ready to control and master them. Allowing them to break free will be more destructive that you think."
The hole in the dojo suddenly closed up, the round man was gone.
He stared up at his sensei, mouth open.
"But Daddy, I'm good at all the ninja training so far! You said so. You said I could be better than Leo! I could be super good at the psychic stuff too! Like a superhero!"
Smiling, his sensei made him sit again. "Michelangelo…I think the Ancient One has a point. Your abilities are far bigger than you. You were able to save me from being crushed by all that debris during our walk in the tunnels, but it caused a very severe headache for you. You were shaking in pain. I do not want you do endanger yourself. I believe you will need to grow up and be much older before you can handle such a responsibility."
He pouted and frowned and thought. He sighed. "Yeah, I guess. Okay."
And they went back into his mind, into his spiritual plane, and all by himself he formed a wide, deep pit under that beautiful glowing shining orb that just wanted to embrace him. Then he made a wall spring up to hide it. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "Maybe in ten years I'll see you again."
Master Splinter helped him seal the hole, and drew him into a strong embrace. He grabbed his sensei's robes and sobbed, his heart broken.
He was fifteen years old, and he had completely forgotten. His mind chased dreams of heroics, he joked for his brothers, he became a comedian to keep their spirits high. His sensei never said a word, whether out of lost memory or keeping secrets.
He was sixteen years old, seventeen - he simply assumed he was athletically gifted and occasionally insightful; his brothers often marveled at his emotional intelligence, his boundless energetic optimism, his capacity for empathy.
He was nineteen years old, and depression hit hard suddenly, a hollow empty pit yawning inside him, and as the months went by his smile was a mask.
Picking up the blade and pressing it to his arms was the norm. It was easy. It was a quiet release and a relief. He had so many battle scars anyway.
He was twenty years old, and he was dying.
He could feel hands on him, suddenly, in the dark. He could hear faraway voices. They sounded like his family. He was being held down, he could sense the ground moving under his body. There was pressure on his head, his shoulder, all over his chest. Hands grasped his left foot. Pain exploded in him and he screamed, but it echoed as a tiny whimper. His lungs went into spasms. His whole body started to shake.
A hand was pressed to his cheek. A shaking voice that sounded like Leonardo very clearly said, "It's okay, Mikey. You're going to be okay. We'll take care of you. Just hold on. Stay with us. Breathe. Mikey, come on, keep breathing."
He couldn't move. His heart strained, his lungs shuddered. Every breath he drew in was fire, every exhale was ice. His body was still shaking, his body wouldn't stop shaking. His whole brain was on fire and being struck by ice. His brain was being electrocuted from the inside. He screamed again, and the echo was a weak, mewling whine.
Another voice, it sounded like Donatello, was yelling. "-having a seizure! Leo, hold him gently, keep his neck and head steady, that's it. Raph, just drive!"
A hand slipped gently, so gently, under his head. Something soft was pressed to the back of his head, then something else soft was pressed to the side of his head. The same voice – Donatello, definitely – was saying, "Head wounds bleed more, so it always looks bad. But I guarantee he's got a severe concussion and possibly a skull fracture, he probably will have some sort of brain damage. I'll need that scanner that looks into the brain, I think Leatherhead has it."
Raphael was snarling something, and he could hear his name in that panicky ferocious jumbled yell.
The words slipped and slid together crumbling into the void. The dark surrounded him again, a blanket of cool tranquility. He didn't feel anything and nothing was happening. Nothing happened for a long time.
Time didn't have any meaning.
His body came back to him very gradually, slightly burning, slightly freezing. He felt everything but he couldn't move. He knew he probably could move; his mind wouldn't let him. He let his senses roam. There were tubes up his nostrils; he could feel crisp air pumping down his sore throat. His entire head and neck felt inflamed, achy, and bruised. His left shoulder felt like ground meat and his entire plastron was on fire and unbelievably achy, tender and sore and bruised beyond comprehension. His left leg from knee to foot throbbed and stung, a stabbing sort of agony that made him want to sob.
And then, like a soothing wind, all that pain began to dull, like background noise. It was enough to grant him the power to sigh in relief, even though it felt more like a distant whine. But he was no longer consumed. His body was his, for now. He was now able to feel a mattress under him and he could now feel gauze wrapped around him, bandages pressed to his skin, his head and neck and sides, gauze and plaster and the memorably thrilling sting and pull of stitches here and there. That meant, logically, that he was in the infirmary, hooked up to an IV, doped up on painkillers, sutured and bandaged and made as comfortable as possible. The multiple pillows under his head confirmed it. Yup.
Now, he just need to drag himself all the way to consciousness and hope his family was around to greet him.
Another small whimper bubbled up from his sore throat. As it reached his lips, he managed to form it into "Ow…"
Something near him moved. "Wha- Mikey? Mikey? Are you awake? Can you hear me? Mikey!"
Raphael sounded raw and full of despair as though the whole world had been destroyed and slowly pieced back together around him. "Holy shit. Mikey? Mikey, c'mon, you gotta wake up, bro, wake up for me, please!"
Dark fog rolled through him and it was like being made of concrete. He pushed.
Aand…nope. He couldn't. He was done. It was too hard. Exhaustion swept over him. Regardless of how dull, the pain was still sharp enough that he wanted to beg for something to end it. But his poor brother's voice was pleading and desperate and it terrified him. He needed to answer. He needed to wake up. He needed to wake up. He breathed out "Hhhe-lp…" and found that his eyelids were lighter than they had been. He felt them flutter.
"Shit! Shit! Donnie! Leo! Sensei! Get the hell over here, Mikey's wakin up, I swear, he's awake!"
A presence loomed over him, comforting and powerful. A hand grabbed his and squeezed. "Mike. Hey. Hey, little brother. It's me, it's Raph. We're all here. Can you open your eyes? Please, you gotta open your eyes. Please, Mikey."
As if on their own, his eyelids lifted halfway and he whined at the light. Lights around him were dimmed. He managed to focus. Raphael was the first thing he saw, his face filling his vision, amber eyes wide with relief, fear, exhaustion, panic, love.
"Rraaph," he croaked. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, hot.
His older brother grinned, huffing out a laugh. "Hey there. Hey. There you are, Mikey. There you are. We missed you, we really missed you."
He swallowed. It tasted like burning. "H-h-hurts."
"I know, Mikey. I know. Donnie and Sensei will help. April and Leatherhead are here too. We'll make it hurt less, 'kay? Just…just don't leave me again, just stay with me."
His vision cleared a little more. He opened his eyes all the way. He could now see Leonardo's face, pinched with fear and worry. "Mikey," Leo was saying. "Hey. Do you know where you are?"
He blinked. "H-home. Brrotherss. F-friends. L-Leo…s-safe? All…safe? Okaay?"
Tears were in Leo's eyes. "Yes, everyone is safe. We're all okay, we're healed up."
"H-how…how…h-how l-lo-ong…"
"Six weeks, Mike." That was Donnie. He held a bottle of water with a straw in it. Mikey couldn't move his head and was so grateful for the straw that he almost cried. He drank slowly, savoring it. Over a month? Shouldn't he have healed?
"There was a lot of damage," Donnie said gently, probably sensing his question. "No wonder your body shut down for so long. Your broke eight ribs and your right lung was bruised and scratched Your left ankle was shattered, your left shin bone was snapped in half and the muscles and tendons were damaged. Your left shoulder was dislocated and broken and sliced open. We have mainly been concerned about your massive head injuries. Severe concussion. There was an open linear fracture in your skull on the right side. On that side and the back of your head were heavy gashes. You also were strangled to the point of oxygen deprivation." Donnie paused, swallowing. "O-Once you can move, April and I will give you some neurological tests. Luckily linear fractures are less concerning than compound." His voice remained gentle throughout, though shaky. Donnie had gotten into the habit of quickly explaining the extent of their injuries while they were waking up, so they could process the pain and information without unknown fears. Mikey knew it soothed him at least. Donnie had never sounded so upset before, so Mikey knew it must have been serious.
Listening intently and patiently, Michleangelo just hummed in agreement. He didn't feel frightened, only annoyed. He just wasn't sure when he'd be able to even sit up, let alone eat a slice of pizza. His left leg felt both numb and burning, his left shoulder throbbed, sending tingles down to his fingers, and his right side ached with each breath.
He honestly could not recall the last time he had been this epically injured. Not even after that fight on the Utrom ship with Ch'rell.
And then there was the…thing…in the back of his mind. That expanding glowing pulse of blue-orange energy. It was a different, shivery kind of headache. The sheer lack of knowing stole his breath. He stared at his hands, which had started to shake.
April's small hands appeared and covered his warmly. "Breathe, Mike. It's going to be all right. We will take care of you. Really, we expect you to be milking this once you've recovered more. You know you'll be waited on hand and foot for weeks!"
Mikey managed a trembling smile for her. "Th-th-anks, A-April." Even his voice seemed shaky. He was so tired. Why was he so tired? He'd slept for six whole weeks! He felt himself yawn.
Donnie suddenly smiled. "Looks like the extra pain relief I just injected into your IV is finally taking effect."
Mike blinked and then realized that the worst of the pain had been fading into the background. He managed another slight smile. "Yay, Don, you're…the best," he rasped. "But…I don' wanna sleep…"
Master Splinter was there, stroking his forehead. "My son, you need to heal. Now that you are out of your coma, we will be able to aid you in recovery. You must pay attention to your body and let us know what is needed, you mustn't hide anything."
Mikey whined slightly, but Splinter's warm paw on his head was so soothing…
"We'll be here," he heard Leonardo say, "We'll take care of you, Mikey. You'll love it."
He fell asleep with the corners of his mouth turned up.
He sat up. He had been lying on a checkered tile floor, but it was warm, and there was warmth all around him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a fireplace, stone carvings of faces bordering the screen.
"Hello," a woman said.
He whipped his head to the right. "Uh, hi?"
Her skin looked like alabaster, nearly bloodless, inhuman and uncanny; her hair was long and inky black, and her floor-length sleeveless dress looked like midnight in starlight. She smiled. "You're always so friendly. I like that."
Mikey blinked, frowning. "Hey, have we met?"
The woman just laughed a little. "No. But I know you. I'm Hecate. You're Michelangelo."
"Uh. Yeah. Um. Hang on, isn't Hecate the name of a Greek goddess?"
She grinned. "Indeed."
"Oh. Ohh. Oh wow. Whoa. I…you…you're a god? You're…you're real?" He stumbled trying to stand up, threw out his arms to balance. His hands were glowing. Why were his hands glowing?
He looked back at the woman. Her eyes bore into his. They were black, they were glowing, a ring of silver around the irises, a ring of gold around the pupils.
Transluscent energy formed around her body, taking on the shapes of two more women, one very old, one very young, before pulsating and becoming an aura.
"Whether I am real or not doesn't matter," she said. "You are. You are here, in your mind, at the crossroads. I am here to guide your choices."
His eyes were burning; all he could see was light. "I can't…I don't understand."
The light burned through his body and he yelled in pain. What looked like spiderwebs, blue and orange, branched across his sight. A network of webbing, electricity sparking across.
"You know what this is," came the woman's voice. "You know everything. Reach for that knowledge."
He swallowed. "Neural network. My brain. The neuroplasticity is…changing, the amygdala is growing bigger. My whole limbic system is changing to accommodate…how do I know all this?"
"You know," was all Hecate said. "You've always known."
No, I never knew ANYTHING, he wanted to cry. He was the clueless one, remember? The clown, the fool, he was the one who never understood Donnie's techno-speak or…
Wait.
"You get it now, don't you?"
His eyes snapped open and he stared at her. "Heh. I guess listening to Donnie as background noise for a decade really did pay off."
"Donatello was not so much interested in psychology or neurology," Hecate told him quietly. "You were. You didn't realize it. You had placed yourself into a role."
"Yeah, well…" He rubbed his neck, sighing. "We're not kids anymore."
She nodded. "You don't need to play a role anymore."
"But that's all they've known of me…"
The whole room began to shake suddenly, and then Hecate was right there, cool pearl hands on his face. "It will be all right," she murmured. "Believe in yourself."
He felt himself shake and spasm, crashing to the floor while the tiled ceiling trembled and cracked. The webs inside his head were sparking desperately. Make it stop, it hurts, I can't move, why can't I move?
"…help me…" And his voice was ripped away by the roar in his head.
"…easy, Mikey, easy, we've got you. It's okay. You're okay."
That was Donnie's voice. Wait, what? Where…?
He couldn't move. But his limbs were trembling beyond his control, his breaths stuttering.
Arms embraced him very gently; he recognized Raphael's musculature. Donatello was murmuring something. Raph was nuzzling his good shoulder and breathing steadily, he was whispering, "Mikey, if you can hear me, do mindful breathing with me. Breathe with me, little brother, you can do it…"
A choked sob escaped him and he felt control slam back into him. Gasping, he peeled open his eyes and looked right into Raph's terrified face.
"Mikey?" Terror turned to shock, and then confusion. "Your eyes…what's with your eyes? Donnie! His eyes changed! Seizures can't do that, can they?"
Donnie's face came into view, and his eyes widened. "Holy shit. I don't understand. He's got gold rings around his eyes!"
Mikey almost stopped breathing.
After the initial alarm wore off, Mikey managed to ask for a mirror. As he suspected, his blue eyes were brighter and the same gold he'd seen around the goddess Hecate's eyes were ringed around them. He felt robbed of breath until everything came back to him. The memories of his childhood discussion with Master Splinter and the Ancient One. Pushing down his psychic abilities. The head injury. The room inside his mind. His conversation with Hecate.
His head was pounding.
He groaned, panting, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them, Leo was staring at him, sitting on the edge of the bed. Time must have passed; he must have fallen asleep.
"What?" he moaned. "What…what is it? S-somethin' on my face?"
Leo was chewing his lip. "Mike…we…we left something out before, when you first woke up.
Something in his mind whispered but he couldn't make it out. It sounded like Leo's voice. He tried to concentrate. His head hurt too much.
He suddenly caught a flash of something; a vision. His brothers screaming. Blood in his mouth, blood all over. Pressure on his chest over and over. Being cradled in Leo's arms, his brother sobbing. Rain splattering against him, washing away the blood.
His left hand twinged and twitched and he forced it up until it was in the air. Leonardo saw and grabbed it with both hands.
"We…we took down the mutants, after you went down, and we went to grab you to get to the Battle Shell. You…Mikey, you weren't breathing. You didn't have a pulse."
Michelangelo just stared at him.
"I grabbed you close and I…I started screaming. Raph pulled me away and made me think straight. D-Don and I performed CPR. It took a long time. We probably broke more of your ribs. When you finally started breathing again, we couldn't move. I grabbed you again and I just held you, I was sobbing. I know we had to get you home but I couldn't let go. I couldn't let my baby brother go." His head was low, he wasn't looking at Mike. "I'm…I'm sorry, Michelangelo. I was paralyzed. I was terrified. I was concentrating so hard on finishing off the enemy that I didn't allow any of us to reach you and you technically died. It's my fault. You have brain damage because of my actions."
Mikey felt Leo's hands press his hand so hard it was nearly crushing. He inhaled, his head throbbing even harder, emotions he couldn't identify sweeping through him. He fought, squeezing his hands, tensing his feet.
"Leo," he whispered. "Leo, look at me."
A few seconds passed. Leo's face was streaked with tears, his lower lip trembling. Mikey had never seen him this upset. He felt tears in his own eyes.
"It's okay, Leo," he said, his throat still raw. He was sure he sounded horrible. He pushed as much love and calm into his voice as possible. "It's okay, it's not your fault. Stop…stop blaming yourself. Stop it."
He panted, his throat burning. He watched Leo grab a glass of water with a straw and he joyfully drank. He didn't look away from Leo. "Leo…stop bein'…guilty. Stop…with the…guilt. It hurts."
Huh?
"Huh?" Leo asked. "What hurts Mikey? Where does it hurt?"
"N-no. No," he said, shaking his head. "I-I mean…your guilt. I…I feel it. It hurts."
Leo's eyes narrowed and he cupped Mikey's cheek. "Mikey, you can feel what I feel?"
I can? Well…yeah. I guess I can. Because…because those powers are unlocked.
"Y-yeah. S-so quit it." He managed a trademark goofy smile. But Leo didn't smile back.
"Maybe your spiritual intuition got kicked up a notch when you took the brain injury," he murmured, halfway to himself.
Bro, you have no idea.
"I should get Splinter," Leo was saying absently. "He'll know how to help you."
Mikey said nothing, just lay back and breathed, grateful for the water in his stomach. He wasn't even sure if Splinter would remember what he did all those years ago.
The dark crept toward him. "I don't wanna be alone," he squeaked suddenly, startling himself.
Leonardo blinked and grabbed his hand again. "You won't be, Mikey. Give me one second." He hurried off. Mikey didn't want to blink, he didn't want to fall asleep again.
Leo yelled out something. Someone yelled back. There was movement in the distance. Leo was back, running a hand over Mike's head and cheek. "Master Splinter is on his way. Can I get you anything? More water?"
He was so gentle, Mikey wanted to cry. "Please."
Leo turned away and produced a large bottle, tipping it to Mikey's mouth. Mike felt it slide into his mouth and coughed, water dribbling down his chin. Leo quickly produced a straw. Mike drank down half the bottle before Leo took it away. "Leatherhead said you shouldn't eat solid food for a while, so Raph is going to bring you some of his protein shakes. And applesauce. And you're hooked up to a liquid nutrient IV feed. But this will put something in your stomach."
Mikey smiled. "What, no tomato and cheese soup? It's like liquid pizza."
Leo smiled back, and Mikey thought Score! Finally! He smiles! "Maybe in a few days, once you're stronger."
A shadow fell over him. "Hey, you," Raph said, a plastic bottle in his hand. He was shaking it. "Leo, gimme a straw. This one's chocolate fudge."
"Awesome," Mikey rasped. Raph started to bring the shake to his mouth. Mike managed to shakily lift his right arm enough to grasp the bottle with his fingertips. "Hey now," Raph said, "Let us baby you right now."
"Awww," Mike groaned, but felt himself grin. "Am I that weak?"
Raph shoved the straw between his lips. "Basically, yeah, knucklehead. You kinda shut down for a month. It's only been a day since you woke up. You should be lovin' all this attention."
Mikey merely sucked on the straw and winked. When he had drank everything, he settled into the mass of pillows and grinned. "That mean I can beg for more comics?"
Raphael actually grinned back. "Hell, I'd call Silver Sentry himself if it'd make you better."
"Dude's number in my Shell Cell, ya know."
Raph tilted his head. "Really? Really?"
If he had been strong enough, Mikey would have folded his arms. He just pouted. "It is kinda my occasional every few months day job, you know."
Raphael merely blinked at him.
"Well…okay, I'm on call. I'm, like reserve. Third Wednesday of every fourth month, and also, like, leap year. I-"
"Mikey, shut up," Raph said kindly, putting a hand on his plastron. "I can call the Justice Force guys for ya."
Mikey made a rasping squealing sound, which became a coughing fit.
"But not now," Raph said, moving to help sit him up more and to pat his carapace. "You're a fuckin' newborn kitten, Mikey."
"Make a joke…about bottle feeding," Mikey coughed, "an' I'll scratch your eyes out."
"Wouldn't dream of it, twerp." They both knew Raph would. Mikey turned the cough into a weak chuckle.
Raph gave him more water, then fluffed the several pillows and propped him so his shoulders were elevated. "You gotta sleep, little bro. Ya need to repair. I know we heal faster than humans, but you took worse blows than all those times when we fought Shredder combined. It'll be a few weeks. Soak it up. Use your shell cell like a call button. Jus' don't call me more than ya have to."
Mikey felt the love and care radiating, yet he smirked and stuck out his tongue. Appearances, after all.
Master Splinter arrived and took a chair next to the bed. "Leonardo mentioned that you were able to sense his emotions."
Mikey sighed. "Hai, Sensei, that's true."
"He is somewhat shaken. He thinks it may be part of your head injury." The rat's head tilted. The question sat there between them.
Mike closed his eyes. When he opened them he looked calmly at the ceiling. "Sensei, what do you remember about me as a little kid? Like, say, eight years old?"
Splinter smiled. "Do you mean our meditation session with the Ancient One?"
Mikey's eyes widened and slid to him. "You remember."
"I do. Meditating upon the situation over the last month helped me recall the details. I began to sense a huge change in your spirit during your coma. I could not reach you, but I could feel the power that was growing inside your mind."
Mikey took as deep a breath as he could. "'Kay. That's…that's really all I wanted to know right now."
"You are tired," Splinter said, stroking his cheek.
He smiled. "Mmm. They keep sayin' I need to rest."
"Rest, my little one. You are cared for."
Mikey closed his eyes, felt his body sink into the softness, and stayed comfortably in the darkness.
The darkness lifted when he felt his legs moving.
"Mmrmph. Wazzit? Oww, wha?"
"We're exercising, Mike," came Raph's voice. "Welcome to day three after coma. And don't complain. You never did when we did this durin' yer coma."
"Tha's because it was a coma, dude." Mikey yawned and opened his eyes. He found that he could lift himself higher onto the pillows, which he snuggled into. Raphael was gently massaging his legs, lifting and moving the right one.
"I put m'self in charge of keeping you fit and stretched every day," Raphael explained. Mikey nodded, wiggling his fingers and toes, grinning when Raph grabbed his righ foot and flexed it. "So you can feel pressure like this?" Raph asked, pushing and pressing hard enough to make Mikey yelp.
"It feels all bruised and sore, but yeah." Mikey nodded at his left leg. "How's the broken one?"
"Broken. Like, lots of broken. Tendons and muscles got torn up. Donnie and LH think you'll be okay with enough rest and therapy." Raph leaned forward, flexing Mikey's foot and ankle even more. "What do you say, bro?"
Mikey frowned. "Pardon?"
"You were asleep for almost three days. Splinter told us about your, ah, your brain injuries. Ya know, the shit you and him kept locked up for a dozen years?"
"Oh, that. Uh. I, uh." Mikey tried his goofiest smile. His head started aching. "I…I just woke up, Raph, c'mon…"
Raph grinned. "I'm teasing, Mikey, nobody expects ya to do jack shit right now."
Mikey swallowed. The pounding in his head was worse. He realized his hands were shaking.
Raph was frowning, walking toward him. "Hey, it's okay, really, I was just teasing. You okay?"
He groaned. "Head hurts. Sorry. I dunno why-"
The swinging lamps over head began swinging on their own, rapidly, and a bulb went out. Some of the headache faded.
Mikey managed to lift his right hand to press against his head. "Feel kinda sick." The world was spinning now.
Raphael turned and grabbed something, pushing it against Mikey's chest: a plastic bowl. Mikey took deep breaths; determined to steady himself. Agony burst behind his eyes. One of the table trays flipped over and crashed loudly. Mikey's head exploded and he retched, crying out. Raph's hand was lightly gripping the back of his neck and his carapace as he bent over the bowl. It was painful, burning his throat. He didn't think there was anything in his stomach. But his stomach stopped spasming as the pain in his head faded. He fell back, gulping in air, taking the water Raph offered.
"Ugh, gross, dude."
"Don't worry about it, Mikey. We've all been there." Raph took away the bowl to be washed, and rubbed Mike's arm.
Groaning again, Mikey massaged his forehead as Don and Leo ran in. "Everything all right?" Don asked. We heard a crash and Mikey being sick."
"Telekinesis activating, I guess," Raph said. Everything echoed in Mikey's head. "Our little bro's a certified superhero."
Swallowing, Mike managed a faint smile. "You gotta fill me on that conversation, guys."
He kept his eyes shut as Donnie's hands moved over his head and neck and as Raph moved around, stroking his arms. There was rustling; he felt the IV line move. "I'm giving you a little more pain relief," Don said. "I'm not surprised you're nauseated. Concussion plus seizures plus even more electrical activity in your brain."
Mikey opened one eye. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Don smiled at him. "You've been my assistant for the last few months, what do you think?"
"Ugh, Doonnniieee, I'm not in the mood for games."
A sigh. "It just means that you'll be having some side effects as your abilities start to really kick in. Migraines. Seizures. Vertigo, maybe. Syncope, even."
"Blah blah, headaches and fainting, yeah. Seriously, epilepsy, dude? You sure?"
Donnie looked at the others and bit his lip. "Possibly a reactive epilepsy, yes. Your entire limbic system has been altered, particularly your temporal lobes and amygdala. Your amygdala is acutely enlarged."
"Aww, you're cute too."
Don giggled. "You'll probably feel a lot more emotional."
"I loooove you guuuys!"
"Now you're just playing."
"Damn right."
"Ah, Mikey," Leo smiled, "Always finding the positive in everything."
"That's why you love me!" Mikey could feel his headache fading even more as the morphine swept over him. His body was buzzing pleasantly. He almost wanted to get out of bed and dance. "Hey, put on some music, let's have a dance party."
Donnie grinned. "Yeah, he's high on the good stuff. Mikey, listen to me. You are not to leave that bed without someone supporting you. Trust me, it's bad."
Wiggling, Mikey stretched his arms and managed to roll onto his side, ignoring the distant ache, and waggled his eyeridges. "What if someone does a slow dance with me? It's supportive and there's hugging."
The turtles just exchanged glances. They smiled. "Mikey," Raph said, tucking him in, "give it a few weeks. Then we can fuckin' ballroom dance all ya want. Just…be good and listen to the doctors' orders."
Pouting, Mikey rubbed his hands over each other. "Ohh-kay." He yawned. "Just tell me when I can eat pizza."
His eyes closed without his meaning to. By the time he opened them, the infirmary was dark and the lair was silent. He went back to sleep.
They told him he had slept in and out for another three days; they told him his body was working hard to recover and kept pulling him down into a healing sleep. He started to read between the lines.
It wasn't a healing sleep, it was a healing sleep. The telekinesis was repairing him. Every so often he would find Leatherhead and April hovering over him with tablets and devices, sometimes wires attaching to his skull.
Michelangelo fled to his inner mind and found himself in an astral plane that was nothing but white and emptiness, except for a massive bonsai tree that seemed neverending.
"Yo, what about that checkerboard tile place?"
A figure stepped through a nowhere door, a tall golden blond man who looked like every beautiful human in history, his eyes the same azure shade as Mikey's. What looked and felt like sunlight haloed his body. Mikey immediately wanted to bask.
"That was your specific healing place. This is where everyone comes while they're healing."
"Who are you?" Mikey breathed.
"Apollo. Hi!" And the man held out his hand. Mikey took it, and an incredibly soothing energy flew through his body at lightning speed.
"Whoa. Dude. You—you're a god?"
The golden man shrugged. "Well. I am a personalized modified manifestation of an incarnation of a god. Every deity is. Humans call us gods because they don't have the words. We're more like interdimensional entities."
Mikey absorbed this carefully. "Cool, cool. Okay. Did you bring me here?"
"Hecate did. She's your…well, your spirit guardian, for lack of better human words. She watches you. I got roped into it. Hermes did too. Mostly because he likes you. You'll see."
"Soo…I'm here to…to heal?"
"To wait while you recover, yes. To make sure you don't feel bored or scared. We know you're afraid of the dark and of being alone. Why don't you manifest something you enjoy?"
Mikey's brow furrowed. "Um." And then it was if the white place pulled the first thought suggestion out of his head, and there was a sofa, a table covered in comics and games, and an orange tabby curled up on the arm of the sofa.
"SWEET." And Mikey bounced into the chair, running a hand over the small cat, which merely purred loudly. "Wait. What's the catch?"
Apollo lifted his hands. "Just stay here until your brain decides you're healed enough for the moment, it's just a sleep, you'll wake up on time. The healing will continue until your body improves. But right now, you need this rest. So just enjoy it." He turned and vanished, and there was quiet, save for the rustling of the leaves.
Michelangelo could only shrug. That was fine with him.
He settled down in a meditative pose on the sofa and picked up the controller.
According to his family, Michelangelo wandered in and out of consciousness for another week, mumbling about the astral plane, the deity manifestations, his powers flowing through his neural network and whispering to him. When he fully woke up, finally able to sit up and stand, Raph's knowing smirk was back, and he gripped Mikey's shoulders in excitement.
"So, do ya know what you can do? Can you show us?"
Mikey found his smiles becoming shy. "Yeah, I guess. But Donnie wouldn't want a demonstration here, around all his shiny toys."
"That's cool." Raph handed him a crutch. "We set the dojo up for a playground." He seemed almost abnormally happy, as if he knew something good.
Mikey tilted his head. He has missed out on a lot. It had now been two months since his injury. He had barely been awake for any of it.
His left shoulder was almost healed, and he could move his arm without too much agony. His ribs still ached. His left leg was still healing slowly and had been put in a walking cast. His concussion, though, was still a serious problem, and the aftereffects were pronounced. Don had to give him medication for the vertigo, and his speech slurred when he was exhausted. The anxiety and mood swings were more pronounced right before a psionic event. Luckily they had prepared for that.
"Dudes," Mikey muttered, staring at the dojo, clinging to Raph as he tried not to put too much weight on his left leg. "What was I doing while I was semi-conscious?"
"Some fascinating things," Master Splinter said, adjusting the balance blocks. "You were in a dream-like state, able to eat, speak, and move with our help, but you did not respond unless we spoke to you in a specific manner. Even then, you spoke in monotone, hesitantly, only a few words. You seemed to be astral projecting halfway into a spiritual plane that not even I could reach. You told us what the psionics were changing inside your brain and nervous system. It was a bit like listening to Donatello Lite, with creative slang."
Raph snickered. Don smiled, ducking his head. "Seriously, Mikey, you really have been paying attention to what I'd been teaching you. You had everyone stumped. You sounded like a basic neurology textbook."
"Plus," Leo said, sounding excited, "you were moving stuff around the lair. I'd ask you to help organize my room and you'd sit on my bed while everything was in the air."
Mikey frowned hard at him, then gasped. "Wait. What did I do to my room?!"
A vague, airy memory came to him; sitting on his own bed with Leo next to him holding an open garbage bag. In his ear, Raph chuckled harder. "We'll show you later. Splinter wondered what you could do if he made it a command."
Mikey gave Splinter a wounded look. "Sensei, how could you?"
Master Splinter smiled gently. "My son, we did not take advantage of your mental state, we merely tested your powers. You could have refused. The fact that you did not showed how willing you were."
Mikey huffed. "My action figures better still be around."
"Trust me, my son, everything you enjoy is most definitely still there."
Raph began to gently lead him forward, and he pulled back with another snarl. "Wait, wait. Uh…you didn't record any of that, did you?"
Raph coughed. Donnie looked away.
"You did! Okay, I deserve to see it!"
"Yes, you do," Leo said, putting his hands on his shoulders. "We didn't cause you harm, although Raph did attempt to pull you into pranks. I admit, we wanted to see just how much of your personality was intact. It wasn't at all like mind control, Mikey, you were literally in a heavy trance, you were in a dream state. You wouldn't respond, but after about two days, some part of you seemed to understand what we were saying to you. You would perform basic tasks as long as one of us helped you. But those tasks were almost completely psionic, it was as if that new part of you overtook your body. It was how you ate, drank, you even tried to walk on your own. We had to hold onto you or your injured limbs would give out and you'd collapse."
Mikey rubbed his left shoulder, biting his lip.
"It really was the strangest thing I'd ever seen," Leo continued. "April and Leatherhead actually stayed for a few days to help monitor you. Casey admitted he was scared you might hurt him." Leo smiled softly. "It's funny, but you had no instinct for battle or training, even if we asked. Raph would ask you to throw a punch, and then he'd be flying through the air and he would land on the floor but gently. You never touched him. Donnie tossed shuriken at you, they'd stop inches from you and fly into the nearest wall. You didn't want to hurt us."
Mikey just stared at him. "Damn, you guys, I can't believe that happened."
Donatello smiled. "We started putting you through clairvoyant and clairsentient exercises too. You blew through the Guess The Cards test. You read Raph's thoughts like an open book. Luckily, you also eased his emotions." Mike stole a glance at Raph, who cleared his throat and shifted his eyes, blushing. "You seemed to do it whenever Raph started getting irritated, you would touch his arm and suddenly it was like his entire body relaxed."
Mikey found himself smirking.
"We have no idea about any telepathy," Don continued. "You weren't in the proper mental state."
Mikey looked at the dojo, set up with all kinds of things he remembered from their childhood, when they were first training. There was an abrupt feeling of delight…but it was not his.
Blinking he reached automatically. It was like reaching out his arm, just inside his mind. The source was a purple sphere, and as soon as he poked it, Donatello let out a yelp.
Mikey looked at him. "Cool!"
"That was you?"
"Yeah, that was me!"
Donnie stared at him. "Fascinating."
"Thanks, Spock!"
Leo folded his arms. "What was that?"
Grinning, Mike called up that mental image of colorful spheres, then reached out and poked the blue one. Leo shuddered and his eyes went wide. "Mikey, stop poking my aura."
"Heh! Poke."
Raph widened his eyes. "Whoa, 's that how he calmed me?"
Grinning even wider, Mikey nudged the red sphere with his fist and felt Raph jump.
"Damn. I…I felt that. It felt orange. It felt like Mikey."
Mikey cackled. "Dudes, that is so cool."
Raph tightened his hold on his brother. "You…you'd better not pull pranks on me with this shit."
Mikey smirked. "Yoouu don't really mean that, Raaaph! I can feeeel iit!"
The sound of Raph's teeth grinding could be heard easily. "Mikey, I swear…" And he fell silent. His other arm came up to wrap around. "Look, I'm just glad you're okay enough to be a goofball. It would've been weird as fuck if you came out not being you."
Blinking, Mikey leaned back into him. "I…yeah, okay. Thanks, Raph. That…means a lot."
"Mikey, that week when you were in that fucked up trance was just…too much. It freaked me out. You'll probably figure it out anyway, but I love ya, okay? I missed you."
Mikey squeezed his eyes shut. Sincere, red red red emotion surged through him like an ocean and he couldn't speak. The hand not holding the crutch grabbed Raph's arm and held on, and he buried his face in Raph's shoulder, sniffling. Raphael was scared for him. "M'sorry, Raphie. I'm all right. Promise."
Raphael sighed. "I know. I know."
There was silence, except for the low rushing and buzzing in Mikey's head that almost seemed to be words. He wondered if they were the thoughts of his family, or the very environment around him.
Raph hugged him a little tighter. He basked in it for a moment. He pulled away and turned toward Splinter. "Okay. I wanna see what you guys set up for me."
Stepping into the dojo was like stepping under a wave of nostalgia. A lot of childhood "play equipment" from when they were first starting ninjitsu was laid out in patterns, things balanced carefully. Several balancing blocks were set up in a domino pattern. Even their old training weapons were there. Mikey felt himself smile, ideas coming instantly. He knew exactly what they had been thinking when they did this.
He raised his good hand, almost dismissively, and the balance blocks fell, knocking against each other. A pleasant tingle started in the base of his skull. "Cool," he breathed.
By the time he got the wooden ninjaken mid-air and spinning, his entire head was tingling. It felt almost too good. A wide grin was plastered to his face.
"Well," Donnie's voice came, "now we know what he's like fully aware."
"It's not as much as it was when he was in his trance," Leo was saying. "But it's still extremely impressive and effective."
"Guys," Raph snapped, "Stop giving him a big head; remember how he was when he got the Battle Nexus trophy? And the medal?"
"And those, like this, are well-deserved," Master Splinter said quietly. "Michelangelo knows well enough that he does not need to boast."
Mikey felt his teeth clench. They don't even know. They never knew.
His wrists were itching again. They hadn't done that in weeks. He hadn't felt the need to do that in weeks.
He let everything go; the tingling faded. All the objects dropped to the floor, and the sounds of crashing wood and plastic were unexpectedly loud. Mikey took a few deep breaths and remembered to count them before turning to his family and putting on his best fake smile.
"Okay! I'm done. That was excellent, thanks!"
Splinter frowned at him. "Is everything well? I felt your spirit falter for a moment."
Crud. I gotta ask Hecate about building walls or something. "Of course, sensei! I just think that was enough. I'm kinda tired. I mean, I finally got out of bed, right?" He fake smiled again, widely and cheerfully, even added a little lightness to it.
The self-made master of laughter; I can do this.
Splinter tilted his head, then bowed. "Naturally. Why don't you go to your room and rest?"
Mikey perkily hopped out of the dojo. "Yes! Plus I can see what trance me did to it."
He skipped past his brothers, as Donatello called out, "When you're done resting, come to the lab, okay?" And he called back cheerfully and almost felt guilty. But he'd been doing this for a year, and his head really was pounding.
When Mikey opened his door, he stood there and gaped. His room was clean. Really clean. No food, nothing littered on the floor, things stacked on shelves and on his desk. But the familiar smells of pizza and ink and paper still lingered. He let out a breath. He inspected the comics first. They were put in reverse chronological order; at least his trance self knew what was sacred.
On the desk were a few fresh cans of energy drinks, energy bars, and bags of chips. Okay. Good. So even tripped out he knew to store snacks. Then again, he usually stuffed those things in his closet.
He checked the closet. It hadn't changed. But he appreciated his trance self for organizing like that.
He dug into his closet for the small, hidden box, grateful that his trance self knew where to stop. He grabbed the container of anti-bacterial wipes. He knew he really should take it to the bathroom, to clean everything under running water, but not now, not when everyone assumed he was napping. The wipes would do. It hadn't been that long, anyway.
His wrists were itching harder.
On his bed, Mikey opened the box and took out the kunai and wiped it down several times, until it was gleaming. Pushing back the wrist band on his left arm, he wiped his arm. A smile broke out at the feeling of the damp cloth against his skin; he'd always been more physically sensitive, seeking out sensory thrills. It was why human food was such a pleasure.
Still smiling, he pressed the kunai hard against his wrist, relishing in just the sensation of sharpness. Usually he didn't need to draw blood unless the darkness was really bad. Now it almost relieved the stress. The darkness always pushed in hard whenever his brothers talked about his Battle Nexus win. It always overwhelmed if he thought about his time in that alternate dimension, with the superhero turtles. He hated that it even bothered him; what Donnie had gone through had been much worse. But he could never shut away that image of Sliver and what he had done.
Mikey shut his eyes sighing. It still hurt, and his throat was tightening up. The knot in his gut was growing. He felt cold. His right hand moved on its own, pressing harder, deeper. He didn't even flinch when the blade bit his skin and started to pull. He was a ninja. This was nothing.
The scent of fresh blood, the feeling of it beginning to run down his skin, was nearly intoxicating. He wanted to fall back against his pillow and giggle. As long as he chose it, everything was perfect. He wanted this, he needed it. And right now, today, after everything he'd learned, especially after the exhilarating rush the telekinesis had left…this felt like a fountain of joy. He tilted his head back, smile widening.
He pushed the kunai just a little deeper; it felt too good not to. He needed that feeling back. Guys, stop giving him a big head.
You won the Battle Nexus Championship by sheer dumb luck! Emphasis on dumb!
Worthless. Useless. Burden.
See? He's good for something after all.
I think you've got your mask on too tight, Mikey. The oxygen's not making it to your brain.
Michelangelo heard a growling and realized it was coming from his throat. He sucked in a breath.
He heard another sound. His own name.
"Mikey, hey, I…MIKEY! What are you doing?"
His eyes flew open. His hands unclenched and he dropped the kunai. Donatello's shout rang in his ears. Oh shit oh shit oh shit, I didn't lock the fucking door!
Dizziness slammed into him. He looked down to see blood dripping more than he was used to. Had he really cut that deeply? That wasn't supposed to happen!
"Oh god, oh god, oh my fucking god, Mikey…" And Donnie was right there, right fucking there, he had grabbed a towel and was holding it tight against Mikey's wrist and Mikey could barely breathe. They had found him out. He'd been caught. Go away, I just wanted to…I needed…but it hurt and I…please…
"Mikey, Mikey, breathe, take deep breaths, it's okay, you'll be okay…"
He was being pulled off his bed. Someone was cradling him and carrying him, his towel-wrapped arm slung across his torso. He forgot how insanely strong Donnie was, running full-speed through the lair like this. Actually, he couldn't really think at all.
"What the hell, Donnie, what—what the fuck happened to Mikey? Is he okay? Leo! Leo, get over here!"
No. No, please, not Leo. Don't do this. Put me back in my room. Leave me alone. You're making it worse. Go away.
He was lying on the infirmary bed again. Donnie was unwrapping his arm and yelling things, not at him, he was yelling for things like antiseptic and gauze and, wait, why needles and thread, why a suture kit? Mikey felt even colder and closed his eyes.
He woke up suddenly, startled by a sudden movement, or maybe it was nerves twitching along his left arm.
"Hey, there." That was Donnie. He was sitting in the chair. Watching.
He cringed.
Slowly, he looked his brother in the eyes. Eyes that were soft, sad, terrified, not at all angry, and so exhausted.
"Mikey, we need to talk."
"No we don't," he said instinctively.
Don sighed, rubbed his face. "Obviously you need to talk to somebody. How long has this been going on? I saw scars."
Mikey bit his lip. "A year."
Slowly, Donnie nodded. "Okay. Makes sense. Do you want me to talk to Raph for you?"
Mikey blinked. "Why?"
"Because you and he insulted each other the most over the years. Leo and I didn't help, but still, Raph threw the most hurtful stuff at you. I don't care if it's how he showed affection, I know it hurt you."
Mikey squeezed his eyes shut, feeling them burn. "Not, um, not really?"
"Mikey, come on."
He whined. "Donnie, look, can I go back to my room? I forgot to lock the door. I don't need help or therapy. I don't want to kill myself, okay?"
"Then what do you want?"
He froze.
"Uh, Leo, maybe you should come back at a better ti-"
"There is no better time, Don." And Leo took the other chair. Mikey kept his eyes closed. He waited for the lecture.
He heard Leo sigh. And then he heard Leo choke back a sob.
Wait, what?
He opened his eyes wide and looked.
Leo was crying. Leo was crying. Leo was grabbing Mikey's other hand and holding it tight, breathing hard, struggling to talk, and Mikey had rarely seen him like this. He stared at him.
"What did we do wrong, Mike? What did I do wrong? How can I make it stop hurting? How can I make it better for you?"
And Mikey kept staring, mouth open. Leo just held onto his hand tighter.
"I know you didn't think about dying. I know it's a release. I know that. But the fact that you feel you need to self-harm, that in itself is…Mikey, it's you. You're our ball of sunshine." Leo was gasping, his voice oddly high and tight. "How long have you really been feeling like this?"
"I…" Mikey swallowed. What was he supposed to do now? "Leo, I…"
"I told Raph not to come it unless you asked for him," Leo rushed on, as if he desperately needed to get it all out before he crumbled. "I wasn't sure if…I mean, he's always been the first one to push you around, and…but Mikey, he's upset, he's panicking. He thinks he pushed you to this. He's scared he'll trigger you just by being near you."
"No!" and Mikey sat straight up. "No! Fuck, no!" Leo pulled away, panting.
"Raph!" Mikey bellowed.
Donnie touched his arm. "Mikey, wait-"
"Fuck that. Raph! Raphie, get in here!"
He sensed him before he saw him. Red tinted with gray, fear and sadness and shock and confusion. Raph slowly inched into the infirmary, toward the bed, eyes wide and dilated.
He stood there, at the foot of the bed, as if frozen.
"Hey, Raphie."
Mikey watched his brother swallow, his muscles all twitching. "H-hey, Mike. How…how're ya feeling?"
Mikey managed to smile weakly. "Shitty. But it's not your fault."
Raph did not move. "You sure?"
Closing his eyes for a moment, Mikey took a very deep breath. "I'm sure. It's my fault. I, uh, internalized. You know. Pushed it all down and it got twisted up so it was worse."
"Oh." Raph nodded. "Yeah. I get that."
"I know you do."
"Is it because of my comment about your head getting big?"
Mikey looked down and smiled wryly. "If I say yes, are you going to blame yourself?"
"Duh. Yes."
Mikey pulled his hand from Leo's and put his hands over his face. "Fuck. I really fucked up."
"Maybe. But so did I," Raph said quietly.
Mikey couldn't help but laugh. "Damn bro, we're all fucked up. Come here and hug me." He glanced up and grinned when Raph practically tumbled into his arms, breathing heavily, burying his face in Mikey's neck.
"Fuck, Mikey, you scared the shit outta me."
"I guess I did. I'm sorry."
"Damn right you are. The fuck you wanted you go and do that for?"
He rubbed his brother's carapace, resting his cheek on Raph's shoulder. "It…felt good. Felt better than the pain inside."
Raph hugged him tighter. "Like…bashing on criminals, except on the inside, and to yourself?"
"Yeah. Like that."
"I get that."
"I'm still sorry."
"Sorry you did it? Or sorry you got caught?"
Mikey pulled away and stared at him. "Dude."
Raph's amber eyes gave off their own light. "We all have our ways of handling this kind of pain." There was no judgement or anger in his voice, or his eyes. "Yours is just a little more…directly self-destructive."
Mikey wordlessly nodded.
"And Mikey, for what it's worth, I'm sorry for all these years of giving you shit for just bein' you."
"You know I deserved most of it, Raph."
"No, you didn't. I was shitty to you for no reason, most of the time." Raph sighed and frowned. "Every kid brother is annoying and goads on the older brothers. I had – I have – lots of anger issues and poor impulse control. Doesn't mean I should have taken it out on you."
Mikey didn't say anything; he couldn't.
"Well," Donatello said. "I did not expect an actual therapy session to happen right away in my infirmary, but this is pretty good."
Leo smiled. "Well, when the family empath and therapist is the one going through the depression and self-injury, what do you do?"
Mikey laughed, genuinely. "Dudes, should I book this session or what?"
"In pizza and ice cream, maybe," Raph said, "my treat."
"Seriously, though," Leo said, "Mikey, if you even consider going back to cutting, I'll work you in the dojo so hard you'll be too tired to pick up a knife."
Mikey grinned at him. "You know it's not that easy."
"I'm not gonna make it easy. I'm gonna help. We all will. And help means pushing you through." Leo folded his arms, his dark brown eyes hard and glittering. Mikey knew that look. He turned to Donnie, instinctively putting on the puppy dog eyes.
Donnie's hazel eyes were already snapping with mirth and Mikey knew it wouldn't work. "Trust me, Mikey, Splinter and I already cleared out your room while you were asleep. I'm glad you only had the kunai, frankly, it shows that you don't have much to hide."
"How psychological of you," Mikey sighed. "Yeah, okay. Um. Where is Splinter, anyway?"
"Meditating," Leo said. "You ready to talk to him?"
Sucking in a breath, Mikey looked at the ceiling. "Not…not yet. I need to think about what to say."
"He's not mad," Raph said softly. "He just wants you to be okay."
"I know that. But he's a dad." And Mikey smiled ruefully. "He'll be worried."
Donnie leaned over and rubbed Mikey's scalp. "This soon after you recovered from a life-threatening injury, we're all worried. But we also understand. You've gone through a massive upheaval. And the neurochemical actions and reactions aren't helping. I bet the psionics have been giving you a hell of a buzz."
"Aw, how could you tell?"
"Your eyes. Pupil dilation, brightness. The rush of dopamine and serotonin would be intense, quick, and probably too strong at first."
"Hey," Mikey said, "That reminds me of something I read. How LSD mimics the way a baby sees the world. Like, how the brain, like compartmentalizes so you see with all your senses and stuff."
Leo raised an eyebrow. "Is this how you feel with the telekinesis?"
"What, like I'm on drugs? Maaybe?" Mikey rubbed his neck. "Look. You know neurology—wait, maybe you don't, I'm the one reading those books. Okay, look, drugs is just one way to work the mind like that. It's about, y'know, receptors and neurotransmitters and the brain's own chemicals."
Raph looked thoughtful. "Freaky. But, hang on. Maybe we can use that to help you start feelin' better."
Donnie nearly shot out of the chair. "That's an idea! Redirect Mikey's brain chemistry using his own newfound psychic abilities. Neuroplasticity and everything."
"I like that," Mikey said. "Plus, Leo gets to make me meditate."
Leo propped both elbows on the bed and put his chin in his hands. "Remember all that dojo work I mentioned?"
Mike rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, work work work, train train train."
He found himself caught up in Raph's arms again, the embrace heavy and warm. "So, you'll be okay, right, Little Bro?" And Raph's voice was heavy, slightly cracked.
Mikey managed to nod his head. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I'll be okay."
He felt Donnie on one side and Leo on the other and tried to wrap his arms around them both as they leaned on him, nuzzling him.
"We'll be okay, brothers," Mikey smiled.