I've been wanting to do a piece that focuses mainly on Mikey, since I've given so much attention to Donnie, Raph, and Leo. So this would be it. I have a feeling this is going to turn out longer than initially planned, and I'm not sure how consistent I'll be with updates, but I wanted to go ahead and get started on it, so here's chapter one :)

Disclaimers: No, no, no, no ... They are not my turtles.

Also: Love You Forever was written by Robert Munsch. In no way shape or form is the story mine, but it was one of my favorite children's books growing up and if you haven't read it, I implore you to. It's adorable!

Housekeeping is done. As always, read and review, but most importantly enjoy!

"A mother held her new baby and very slowly rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while she held him, she sang: I'll love you forever—"

"You have to sing it!"

Donatello sighed and Mikey could feel the burst of warm air brush across the top of his head. It was an expression he was used to though. His brothers often did a lot of sighing around him. He never knew why.

Instead of acknowledging it, he burrowed closer to his brother's side, resting his head against the bridge of Donnie's shell and pressing the threaded crown of his teddy bear up to his nose. It had a damp scent to it, much like the ever present mustiness to the air of their home, but with it, it had always carried the hint of something sweet, something warm, something nurturing. He imagined that, before he'd found it nestled in a heap of trash blocking a barred runoff, it had belonged to a child his own age whose mother kissed the bear's head every night after kissing her child, rubbing her scent off on its cotton skin to be infused with the bear's ever-lasting existence.

Donnie cleared his throat and sang in soft, melodious, seven-year-old tones:

"I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living
my baby you'll be."

Mikey smiled against his bear and watched as his brother turned the page of the picture book, the arm he had around Mikey's shoulders pressing him close.

"The baby grew. He grew and he grew and he grew. He grew until he was two years old, and he ran all around the house. He pulled all the books off the shelves. He pulled all the food out of the refrigerator and he took his mother's watch and flushed it down the toilet. Sometimes his mother would say, 'this kid is driving me CRAZY!'"

Donnie flipped the page again and Michelangelo's wide blue eyes followed the movement.

"But at night time, when that two-year-old was quiet, she opened the door to his room, crawled across the floor, looked up over the side of his bed; and if he was really asleep she picked him up and rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. While she rocked him she sang:

I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living
my baby you'll be."

"Hey, Donnie?"

"Hm?"

"Is that what she looks like?"

"What who looks like?"

Mikey reached out and pressed a finger to the page of the book, indicating the illustrated picture of a woman with soft brown hair and affectionate eyes, peeking over the edge of her baby's bed, a smile in her cheeks, loose strands of hair framing her fair face.

"Is that what our mommy looks like?"

Donatello went quiet.

Mikey stared at the picture for a moment longer before peeking up at his face. His brother's intelligent eyes stared back at him as though he'd just seen a cockroach crawling over the top of Mikey's head. He said nothing.

Instead, he withdrew his arm from around Mikey's shoulders, set the book face down on the mattress and climbed off of the bed to disappear from the room, leaving the door cracked open.

Mikey pursed his lips then looked down at his bear and smiled at it, petting its head. The bear stared back with shining black eyes, and Mikey could imagine that the smudge on its forehead was a stain of lipstick left by its previous owner's mother. He wondered what color she used: classic red like the women in the commercials? eccentric purple to match her spontaneity? or maybe she just swiped on a neutral-colored lip gloss every morning before taking her son or daughter to school. Maybe she was a simple mother. He'd have liked that as much as any other.

Donnie rushed back into the room, clutching something in his hands, and shut the door quickly behind him. He paused, as though listening for movement, then turned, walked over to the bed, and dropped Spike onto Mikey's lap.

Michelangelo smiled at the little turtle and tickled its head with a finger, just as he'd done his bear. Then he looked up to his brother, blinking once or twice.

"I imagine she'd look something like that," Donnie said, indicating the turtle now nibbling on the teddy bear's ear.

Mikey looked down at Spike, gently tugging the bear away, and then back up at Donnie. "Like Spike?"

"More or less." Donnie shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I don't think we're the same breed of turtles that Spike is, but, in a general sense, yeah."

Mikey furrowed his brow. "But Spike's a boy!"

A tiny smile perked up the corner of Donnie's mouth. "Well, with most reptiles it's kinda hard to distinguish between male and female."

"But we don't look like Spike."

"That's because we're different, Mikey. Remember Master Splinter said that the ooze made us special?"

Mikey shook his head and set Spike in Donnie's lap. He picked up the book to point at the picture. "I think our mommy looks like that, since Tang Shen wasn't our real mom."

"Mikey." Donnie sighed, gazing at him with that look he sometimes got when Mikey asked him certain questions, his brow furrowed and the corner of his mouth slightly pulled back, as though he smelled something sour but didn't want to acknowledge it. "We came from the pet store. Remember?"

Mikey nodded with a wide smile. "Uh huh. That's why Tang Shen couldn't have been our real mommy. But we had to come from somewhere didn't we?"

"Well, yeah but—"

"Spike!"

Donnie stiffened, cupping the small turtle in his hands as though to hide him from the frantic voice coming from the hall. His wide-eyed gaze flickered from the door back to Mikey and he stood up and urged Michelangelo to lie back in his bed. He pulled the covers up to his chin, cradling Spike in one palm, and used his free hand to tuck Mikey's bear in next to him.

"We'll talk about this later." He set the book on the stand next to Mikey's bed and began to shuffle away.

"Donnie!"

The older turtle turned with one hand on the doorknob, anxious to get out of the room and return Spike to his owner before any damage was done.

"What?"

"You didn't kiss us goodnight."

Donnie's lips pressed into a thin line, and then he sighed and hurried back across the room. He leaned over and planted a quick kiss on Mikey's forehead.

"Goodnight, Mikey."

"Don't forget Bearington!"

Donnie kissed the bear on the head. "Goodnight, Bearington."

Mikey smiled and pulled his brother forward to return him a kiss on the cheek, and then Donnie held out Spike so that Mikey could give him a peck on the crown of his head.

"Goodnight, Donnie. Goodnight, Spike."

"Mikey!" came Raph's voice, approaching the door now.

"I didn't do it. It was Donnie!"

Donnie made a face as Mikey smiled up at him innocently and wiggled deeper beneath his blankets.

His immediate older brother turned and hurried out of the room, closing the door behind him, but Mikey could still hear the bickering that took place just outside the door.

"Donnie, you jerk—"

"Mikey asked me a question."

"How many times have I told you? Spike is not a prototype."

"That's not really what a prototype is, Raphie."

"Whatever. Go to bed. And stay away from Spike. Splinter says you're not allowed to use him for science anymore."

Michelangelo's smile spread and he picked up the book on his nightstand and flipped to the page Donnie had stopped at. He stared at the picture, peering through the shadows his nightlight hung like streamers around the room.

Though the woman's face was half hidden, he still thought she was beautiful, and he could almost picture her smile, white and warm, comforting and loving.

If he had a mother, she would look just like the mother in the book, and she would sing him lullabies and kiss him and Bearington goodnight every night, and she would separate his siblings whenever they started to argue, and she would laugh tenderly at Donnie's turtle-mother theory and pat him on the head, and she would smell exactly like the sweet, nurturing smell that had been weaved into the fabric of his bear, and she would love them all so much that she'd cry at the thought of them ever living without her.