Edited Authors Note as of Summer 2016:
This story and its sequel can now be found on under Archive Of Our Own under BrightLotusMoon

(Author's Note

"Hey, does anyone remember this great fanfiction story from years ago, Cold Fire by Joanna Capello, whatever happened to that?" -Ninja Turtle fans on the internet.
Aw. I still exist. This pleases me.

This is a fanfiction story that is an overhauled total rewrite of a fanfic I wrote in 1998, one that made me popular in the TMNT fandom of the time. I have been getting emails from strangers asking me for "Cold Fire" or to write a new story in the same world, a world in which Michelangelo gains telekinetic and telepathic powers via alien technology but at a nearly fatal price. I was sadistic. Angst, Tragedy, and Hurt/Comfort were my Tropes to play with. Mikey got hurt a lot. But being psionic helps delay death, you know? I wrote two sequels, but only one still exists on the internet, "Shadow Rising" - the inspiration for my choice of title here. Naming the new, contemporary "Cold Fire" the same as it was did not feel right. This a total retelling, with different settings and everything.

This time, I get to play with the 2012 reboot from Nick. Despite my skepticism of the first season, it really grew on me. Especially their individual traits. And Mikey has freckles! And huge bright baby blue eyes! However, of course with that comes Mikey being the comedic prankster, the one seen as least intelligent, the loud silly goofy annoying weird hedonist who has ADHD and natural ninja skills and could be the most powerful martial artist if only he'd concentrate his potential.

It irritated me a bit at first when April O'Neil was brought in as a teenager and a hybrid human with Kraang DNA and rudimentary clairvoyant powers. However, once it was established that in Dimension X, Michelangelo was the Genius King, I realized that potentially, Mikey could also have Kraang DNA, which is why he is able to navigate Dimension X as if it were his natural state. "Hey, in crazy backwards land, crazy backwards dude is king." And it does make me wonder if the showrunners will actually touch upon that. If Mikey really has Utrom DNA, and if it is activated, would he be potentially psychic? I'm not waiting to find out.

This story takes place in the middle of Season 4. I know they're on a strict mission to locate all the pieces of the Triceraton black hole generator, to stop the Triceratons from ever getting to Earth in the first place, traveling back in time to prevent not only the destruction of Earth but the entire invasion. But I imagine they could take a break for a few months to deal with... um... this.

So, think of it as a really weird in media res story with established characters in an established world that you can Google for a few hours. Seriously, this is a fandom that will remain immortal., Plus, Dr Honeycutt is voiced by David Tennant! Looks like The Doctor has some new companions after all.

PS: Warnings for gore, extreme violence, language, descriptions of bloody medical procedures. Hallucinations and creepy nightmares abound. Assault happens, and although it is psychic instead of physical, it is still a thing. I get fairly rough with Mikey and his brain.)


Chapter One


It wasn't even a mission. Professor Honeycutt had let them explore this new planet with ease, like a vacation. Stretching, under a different sun, a new wind rushing at their backs. And they ran, taking in all the oxygen the atmosphere swirled with. This planet was so much like Earth. They didn't need suits, or breathers, or anything.

The living embodiment of joy, Michelangelo cackled and whooped, spinning inches from the sand, arms propelling him higher, his mouth wide in a laugh that echoed through the silver trees. Silver trees!

And Leonardo grinned and shook his head, watching Mikey do backflips and shout about the softness of the sand. He was feeling pretty exhilarated. The air was crisp. The sky had sparse clouds, even. And it all felt so familiar. He sat down and leaned against a tree.

Donatello gazed around, soaking up the sights and sounds, calculating in his head how fast the wind was, how close that sun was, why the sky looked so much like the sky on Earth. His hands worked carefully as he crouched. His brain moved too fast and his body too slow and he was nearly bowled over by his little brother, who was cartwheeling through them, "Watch it, Mikey, I need to take sand samples!" and behind him, Raph grunted.

Raphael was on high alert, twitching, waiting. Danger? What was that? No, trees rustling. Why are the leaves so gray? Why where they here, so alone? This forest... this... place, it felt abandoned, and he growled softly, turning there, punching out. "Duuude, relax! This place is so sweet! Sit down and breathe!" and Michelangelo whirled past him with a giggle. Raphael wanted to slap him. Nobody should be that excited about sand and trees.

"Okay," Leonardo said, "we are going to explore for a few hours and then get back. We're still on a mission."

"Hm." Donatello, distracted, finished collecting samples and stood. "I did see what looked like a bar or pub on the other side of the forest."

Raph let himself loosen. "I'm hungry, yeah. And I smelled good food when we passed that place."

They began walking back through the forest, keeping all eyes on their surroundings. There was an abrupt "Oooh, hey, what's that?" followed by an automatic "Mikey, do not touch anything!"

Donatello let himself relax and smile. This was normal. This was their family. This was-

"Mikey! Put that down! What do you think you're doing?"

"Aww, Leo, it's a rock! See? It's just a shiny stone. It's green. It looks like a turtle shell. Look!"

Don looked up, eyes narrowing. He didn't recall seeing any green rocks...

Michelangelo was holding it in both hands. It looked like a polished, perfectly smooth cabochon. Opal? Emerald? Fluorite? Serpentinite? Why was he comparing it to Earth rocks, anyway? He stepped closer. "Michelangelo, I'll take it. I can always run an analysis on-"

"Nope!" Raphael had pushed himself between them. "None of that. Mikey, just drop the rock and let's keep moving. I don't need to listen to you cooing over how shiny it is, or Donnie playing science geek with it. Put it back where you found it, right now."

Michelangelo blinked. "I... I can't."

"What...?"

Leonardo turned with Leader Face on as Raphael's voice dropped an octave. Donatello frowned.

"No," said Michelangelo, "I mean I can't. It won't let me. It's heating up. Guys? Something isn't right..."

Donatello saw it, opened his mouth, lunged to knock the suddenly glowing thing from his baby brother's hands, grabbed his right wrist – and then Mikey screamed. He screamed like the air was being yanked from his lungs, like his body was a puppet. He jerked back and forth, and then he was glowing, and the screaming rose in pitch, and Don felt Raphael's arm collide with his chest, shoving him back, and his brother was crying now, Mikey was sobbing in that way that indicated fear and confusion and pain, and everything was a painfully bright greenish-gold glow, and a final forced wail was expelled-

And Donatello found himself on his knees and hands, reaching toward Michelangelo, who was lying curled up in the sand, shaking and whimpering. The stone had fallen from his hands and was a lifeless gray with white striations. Just a rock. Just a simple, unassuming, harmless alien rock.

"Mikey!" Raphael had grabbed the younger turtle's face in both hands. "Mikey, it's okay, you're okay. We're here. It's okay. Breathe in. Breathe out. You're okay." Leonardo was gracefully crouched at Mikey's head, gently holding his left hand and massaging the palm.

Donatello coughed and blinked, shaking his head to dispel the pinpoints of light at the edges of his vision. Years of forced medical training snapped into place and he sat up. "Is he injured? Unconscious?"

Raphael was gently stroking the skin between carapace and plastron as his baby brother shivered. Raph was breathing harshly in that way Don knew was Raph's version of "calm yourself, don't fly off the handle." Raphael nodded. "He's breathing, he's not bleeding. I think he's scared. Maybe in shock."

Leonardo nodded. "There are burn marks on both hands. But beyond that he seems okay." Fearless Leader looked up and stared at Donatello with an odd expression. "Donnie? You okay?"

"Me? What?" Donatello rubbed his head. "I'm fine, yeah. I'm fine."

Raph raised an eye ridge. "Because you kind of... passed out for a minute after the glowing started.

"I... but... no, I just..." Donatello shook his head. He felt as though a soft electric current had passed through his arm when he touched Michelangelo, but he shouldn't have...

"Come on, braniac, let's stand you up." And Raphael was gently pulling him to his feet. Donatello's hands twitched. He blinked. "I'm all right. Really. I need to look at him. Raph, move, I have to-"

"Hold still and stop twitching."

"Oh. Oh." Donatello closed his eyes and reached for his ninjitsu training, the meditative exercises they performed when wounded or shocked. After a few breaths, he felt his brother's hands fall away. "Okay, then, I need to..."

A long, whining groan from the ground. Donatello instinctively crouched at Michelangelo's side, feeling all over for burn marks, bruises, cuts, anything. "Mikey, how do you feel? Are you badly hurt? Can you feel my hands? Can you see?"

"Yah...yeah...yes, Donnie, I'm...I'm okay." Mikey coughed. He wiggled his fingers and toes. "I work, I promise. It's all good." He wriggled his shoulders. Donatello helped him sit up. "Let me stand, dude, I think I'm cool."

"You were curled up on the ground, you were screaming and crying."

"Well, it hurt. Now it doesn't." Michelangelo looked at him and slowly blinked those huge summer-blue eyes, the smattering of freckles standing out against skin that had gone a shade paler. He smiled, turning on that Mikey Charm. Donatello automatically smiled back. On instinct, he leaned in and touched his forehead to his brother's, just like they had done as kids after Mikey's nightmares had sent him to Donnie's room for comfort.

"Okay, cool." Raphael's clapping startled them. "Let's go find food. Can the bonehead walk on his own?"

Mikey stuck his tongue out and strode forward, dancing on his toes like a gymnast. "Assholes first," he said, sweeping his arm out.

Raph grumbled, elbowing Mikey as he walked ahead. Mikey just grinned that brilliant sunny grin and softly howled, "Foooood!"

Leo leaned toward Don as they walked behind. "Wanna bet he'll ask for a pizza with jellybeans?"

Donatello grinned. "Or sour candy and chocolate bits."

"He might just barge into the kitchen and make it himself."

"Honestly, I wouldn't mind."

Donatello paused, then knelt and scooped up the dead gray rock that had been so mysterious and frightening. He dropped it into his belt pouch without a word. Leonardo simply nodded. Donnie and his tests, his urge to know everything. Especially on different planets.

The place was huge, bigger than most restaurants. There were sections, a massive curved bar, and empty tables everywhere. The only seated customers were a dozen black-clad reptilian humanoids around a long corner table, and toward the middle, three humanoids that looked like squids, dressed in space suits. The bartender was canine in features. Waiters, cooks, and other staff were a mix of what seemed like goat, cat, and bird.

Leonardo keenly, quietly, and carefully took stock of every face, claw, and foot. They chose a table next to a wall, and a feline waiter with a computer pad came swiftly, offering beverages. Donatello easily explained that they were off-worlders and did know about any food. They all noticed the waiter tap something on his lapel. "It's fine, we get that a lot," said the waiter. In English. "Whoa, cool," Michelangelo said, leaning over. "Is that, like, a galactic translator?"

"Yes," the waiter said, pleased. "The translator immediately recognized your specific language. We get so many off-worlders, because this pub is neutral, that we need translators that are powerfully efficient."

"Wait, neutral?" asked Donatello. "Like... like a neutral zone?"

"Exactly. If you have a beef with your rival, you squash it when you are in here. This is a place to eat and talk in peace."

A derisive snort came from the corner, where the dozen reptilians sat. The waiter rolled his eyes. "Anyway, let me get you some menus you can read. I will help explain the foods. We make sure none of the food here can cause allergic reactions. We are one of the few pubs in the galaxy that caters to as many species as possible."

He lifted his chin, smiled, and went to the bar, returning with four menus. "Now, for drinks, we have... hang on, please correct me if I am wrong. Sodda? Jweese..."

"Soda and juice!" Michelangelo said cheerily. He glanced at the menu. "See? Here. I want this soda." He pointed, and the waiter's eyes brightened! "Yes, okay! That says ginger ale! Good! How about the rest of you?"

"Got anything alcoholic?"

"Raph!"

"Oh stop it, Leo, we're on vacation!"

The waiter moved his eyes back and forth, amused. He leaned toward Raph's menu and pointed. "How about this one? It doesn't contain much alcohol, but it should satisfy you." The photo next to the description was a blue liquid tinged with pale orange. Raphael's mouth twisted. "Gimme that one, then."

Leonardo sighed. "Can I just get seltzer?" Donatello chimed in with, "Ginger ale."

The waiter tapped on his pad happily. "Two ginger ale drinks. One seltzer drink. One Sky Rider mix. Take your time on choosing your food!"

He spun gracefully and moved toward the bar. The turtles scrolled through their menus, and eventually decided to split a dish consisting of varied vegetables, rice, mushrooms, and oily fish. Michelangelo leaned back. "It's not pizza, but I bet I could make it when we get back. I think April will like it."

When the food arrived, they dug in and realized how hungry they were. The food was delicious and filling, and gone before they realized.

"Wow," the waiter grinned as he came to gather plates. "Either it was really good or you were all very hungry."

"Little of both," Raph smirked, patting his belly.

Michelangelo beckoned, and the waiter leaned in. "Dude, I'm the head chef of the family, and seriously, that was amazing. Kudos for the chef. Think I could get a copy of the recipe?"

"Mikey!" Leonardo admonished. "Don't be rude."

The waiter's smile was wide enough to show sharp teeth. "No, I think she would be thrilled that another chef would want her recipes. I will ask. I'll return with it and your check."

As he left, Leonardo counted out the credit bits that Fugitoid had given them. When it was time for payment, he added extra, which puzzled the waiter. "It's called a tip, where we are from," Leo said. "It means that you did a great job. It's yours to keep."

The waiter blinked. "Oh, I..."

"Take it, dude!" Michelangelo patted his shoulder, folding a piece of paper into his belt. You gave me the recipe, so we give you a little something."

The waiter was blushing. "I have never heard of tipping. It sounds very strange, paying extra just because I did my job. But... thank you. I accept." He bowed his head and wished them well, then moved back toward the bar and the kitchen.

"Well." Raphael drained the last of his beverage. "That was interesting. Wanna explore more, or head back to the ship, or..."

A commotion made them all freeze. Two of the reptilians were standing at the squid creatures' table. "Okay, then. Food's been eaten, fun's been had. Now we settle. Where is our money?"

"Oy!" the bartender growled. "Take it outside. At least twenty meters away from the building. Y'know the rules."

Weapons seemed to melt out of the darkness of the reptilians' cloaks, nudging two of the squids. "Up, then. Come on."

Silently, squid and reptile alike shuffled out through the door, which slowly closed.

Donatello looked at Leonardo. "Should we do something?"

Raphael narrowed his eyes. "Do we have to?"

Leonardo paused his eyes set on the door. From outside, there was a scuffling noise, and then a watery yelp. The staff turned their backs.

"Dudes, I think someone has to see what's going on," Michelangelo whispered. "The squid guys might be totally innocent."

Leonardo seemed frozen in place. Then he nodded. "Quietly." He beckoned and began weaving his way through the tables. The others followed, locking into their ninja stealth training. As they approached the door, Raphael glanced at Michelangelo. "Don't say a fucking word, loudmouth." Michelangelo stuck his tongue out and smiled.

Outside, the sky was just beginning to dim, spreading pale yellow light and making everything look old and dusty. The two parties, yelling at each other in English, were going around in circles. Weapons were drawn: Knives, swords, daggers, blaster guns. One of the taller reptilians, in a deep red trench coat in direct contrast to the black of his team, was a few steps away, watching carefully.

"We sent your payment a week ago, Alchemist!" one of the squids yelled. His hand, four fingers looking like tentacles with suckers cut through the air with a damp noise. The other squids angrily murmured in agreement.

The red-clad reptilian cocked his head. "Really? That is not what my accountant told me. Try again, Albelor."

"That is the truth! The payment was sent! I cannot lie about a truth."

"No, but you can bend the truth like a fountain!" One of the black-clad reptilians leapt and grabbed the squid's tentacles with both clawed hands, very large hands, with four fingers and a thumb, and Albelor squealed. His companions appeared too afraid to help. "No, sir, we swear it."

"Then why is it not in our account, salt creature? Why must you lie? The Alchemist has been very generous. He gave you exactly what you needed."

"Y-yes! I am so grateful. And... and perhaps the money... it didn't arrive on schedule."

"Because...?" There was a squelching sound. The squid winced. His hands were being bruised.

"Because he doesn't have to tell you, ass for brains!" Raphael yelled, leaping into the air and coming down hard on the reptilian. The squid gasped and stumbled back, clutching his hand. Raphael glanced at him. "You okay?" The squid nodded shakily.

The reptilian growled and twisted into a sitting position, throwing Raph to the side. Raphael gained his footing and held up his sai, taking a defensive stance. The reptilian's eyes narrowed. "You should not have gotten involved, alien turtle man."

"Too late!" Michelangelo worked his acrobatics and was suddenly right in front, balanced on his toes, grinning without humor. "Let the squid dudes go. I'm sure they'll pay you when they can."

"You think you know..." The reptilian pressed his snout to the turtle's snout before rearing back and headbutting him. Grunting, Michelangelo planted his feet and let his torso bend back, stretching his neck before bouncing right back. "That was fun. Do it again!" He butted the reptilian. His opponent staggered, but without the same agility the reptilian crashed to the ground.

"You do not belong in this fight!" One of the other reptilians rushed at blinding speed; there was a musical whirring in the air, and both Raphael and Michelangelo fell back. The long whip snapped and cracked the air like a snarl. "Leave us! Now!"

Leonardo rushed forward. "Not until you let the squids leave in peace!"

Yet another reptilian, this one with two swords, rose to meet him. "You know nothing of our conflicts, turtle man. Leave, or we will kill you."

The clash of weapons filled the air. Donatello whirled in a dance with his bo, knocking out two reptile men, while Leonardo faced two more against his katana. Raphael, not even caring who he hit lashed out spinning. Michelangelo whooped and sang, jumping and twisting above it all, handsprings and backflips taking down three more before he even swung his nunchaku.

The reptilians were extremely resilient, each rising up and attacking again, the full dozen, minus the so-called Alchemist, who stood a few feet away, arms crossed, smiling. During one of his aerial moves, Michelangelo noticed this and twisted his body, maneuvering and spinning until he landed, cat-like, right in front of the reptile man in the red coat.

"You're awfully quiet, scaly dude," he teased, hoping to get a rise out of him. "What, scared to fight?"

The Alchemist raised an eyeridge, dark golden eyes wide. "Ah, no, not even a little. I'm just... extremely entertained."

Mikey's whole body was itching and tingling to move, the thing Donnie called ADHD sparking in his brain, the parts of him naturally prone to acrobatics and athleticism burning and reaching out to attack with as many distractions as possible. Why wasn't this guy moving? What was so funny?

Mikey took a breath to soothe his overactive nerves, and gave the reptile his most dazzling convincing smile. "I bet I can entertain you a whooole lot!"

The Alchemist laughed. "Please, do, child. Come." He held out a hand and crooked a shiny talon inward. Michelangelo put his weapons in his belt and spread his hands, rocking on the balls of his feet. The Alchemist glanced down and his eyes went very wide. "Fascinating!"

"Heh. What? Am I that talented? You haven't seen nothing!"

A toothy grin. "Oh, child. You don't know, do you?"

Michelangelo frowned.

"Your hands, boy. I know that mark." And the Alchemist began to chuckle. Mikey felt himself shiver. That was not a pleasant sound. And yeah, so that rock had burned him. So what?

"Tell me, boy," said the Alchemist, reaching into his coat, "how did you feel when the stone's power surged through you? Did you cry? Did you scream? It has been a very, very, very long time since the stones have reacted to anyone. So I need you to be honest. How do you feel about it?"

Mikey frowned harder. "I... what? What the hell are you talking about? It's... it was... it was just a shock. Like... an electric shock. Like, all over, deep inside." He paused. Wait, why was he talking? Why couldn't he stop talking? "Like my whole body was... covered in energy. All my insides. And my head. Inside my brain. Energy. It..." He forced his mouth shut. He shouldn't be saying anything to this creep.

But the Alchemist was humming and smiling. "Very interesting! And you were conscious? That's new. Oh, this is delightful. And here you are, fit and whole and ready to fight me like nothing happened. Come, then. Show me. Entertain me."

Like lightning, he brought out a curved dagger and surged forward. On pure instinct and muscle memory, Michelangelo jumped back, curving and curling his body into intense angles and twists, his hands grabbing the nunchucks without thought. As the Alchemist jumped, kicked, rolled, and ran at him, Michelangelo's powerful born skills lifted him, moved him, curved him in ways human gymnasts would be envious of. If it weren't for the shell he could have contorted further. He landed multiple blows without even trying. The rush of adrenaline was so strong he could have flown, could have punched steel, and he crowed his triumph, nimbly dashing forward again with his beloved nunchucks spinning their soprano song-

He paused. Something had stopped him. He jerked, and a flash of pain flared through his torso. Wait, where was the pain? Why was he in pain? Distantly, he heard someone shout his name. He looked down to see two parallel, very long, very deep slashes across his upper plastron. He looked up to see a curved blade dripping thickly with blood.

"Oh..."

He drew in a cold breath. It hurt, it really hurt, like all the way into his chest hurt. Okay. Okay, but this wasn't so bad. He could technically still fight. It was just time for defensive moves, that was all.

There was a blur of red and black, and suddenly his right shoulder was on fire. Another blur, and his right cheek stung. "Stop it," he yelled, or tried to. His arms were stinging. His sides. And now his legs. His left leg felt like it was being ripped open. His right leg felt so exhausted and bruised. The fire along his left thigh was even worse. He felt himself sway. He swallowed, and it was thick, and he tasted copper.

"Hey... hey, slow down... you! Stay!" He struck out and connected hard, and there was a growling yell. "Hah! Not so tough," he called, but it was like yelling down a tunnel. Something was wrong. His hearing felt kind of clogged. "Hey! Hey Alchemist!" he coughed. He spat. Wait, was that blood? How did-

The reptile man in the red trench coat was right there, almost hugging him. He was smiling. So many teeth. So shiny. Oh, what big teeth you have... The Alchemist drew back his left arm. Michelangelo kept staring at that smiling mouth. The smile grew bigger, like a maw...

Something punched him below his rib cage, on his left side. It was a sharp punch, it was a cold, hard punch. It hurt. It hurt! Warm liquid spilled against his plastron. He sucked in a breath and wished he hadn't. Pain erupted and filled him like lava. He wanted to scream. He was trying to scream. He could hear faint screaming. Was it him?

Someone was screaming his name. Someone was shouting words that would have made sailors proud. He heard squelching sounds, crunching sounds, cracking sounds, growling sounds. The Alchemist was holding onto him.

"Yes, little boy, that was very entertaining. Thank you. You have an incredible stamina. You have so much kinetic power. You have a massive wellspring of potential inside you, if only you could learn to focus and direct it all the time. You could be the greatest fighter and athlete in the galaxy. You never will. But you could have been the best."

Mikey sucked in a shuddering gasp. "You... fl-flatterer... you. Does... this... mean... you give... me... roses... now?"

The Alchemist chuckled. "Oh, I enjoy your silly jokes. But enough is enough. We are done here. You, boy, you are done."

Someone was screaming, screaming his name. There were pounding footsteps. They were far away.

Michelangelo blinked; there was something glistening like glass in the Alchemist's right hand. He felt all floaty. Why couldn't he move? The Alchemist brought the object down and connected with Mikey's left shoulder. There was a sting, a very sharp and warm sting. He tried to pull away. "Sshhhh," the Alchemist murmured. "It will be over soon."

The Alchemist released his hold. Mikey felt his body crumble to the side. His right side. He lay panting, while half a dozen types of pain roared through his body. That warm sting in his shoulder was getting warmer. It bothered him more than anything else. In slow motion, out of the corner of his eye, he watched the Alchemist take his curved dagger, completely soaked in blood, drop the shiny glass thing – wait, a syringe, it was a syringe – and call to his men. The Alchemist ran at blinding blurry speed. The other reptilian men, the ones who were still able to move, followed. Someone was screaming.

"-et back here! You cowards! What did you do to my brother! What did you do?!"

Oh, that was... it sounded like Raphael. Good old hothead Raph. He loved shouting.

"Mikey. Mikey, can you hear me? Can you speak? Mike!" Hands on his face. Leathery three-fingered hands. "Oh... oh god, Mikey..."

He breathed, and it was so sharp and so cold. "D-Donnie?"

"I'm here, little brother. Just hold on. Just... oh god, Mikey, just hold on..."

He blinked. Donnie sounded panicked and terrified. That wasn't right. "Duude," he slurred. Something warm trickled down his cheek from the side of his mouth. Was he drooling? How embarrassing. "Don't... no... don't be... s-scared, Donnie?"

He looked straight up, and his brother's dark chestnut brown eyes, like red tiger eye stones, were wide and yes, filled with panicky terror. He felt so confused. He almost wanted to laugh. Donnie? Stoic, logical, rational, scientific Donnie, shaking in what looked like pure terror?

A gentle hand on his cheek. He moaned and leaned into it, blinking. "Leeeooo..." Oh. Oh, his face. His dark blue eyes. Leo was afraid, too. Leo looked so afraid. Horrified, even. Leo couldn't... no. Leo was leader. Leo kept himself calm all the time. This was Leonardo, come on. This was Fearless Leader. So why was-

"L-Leo, w-wh's... wrong? I got... smthin... on my... face?" He was so, so confused. Leonardo's sapphire eyes were so wide, his skin so pale. His mouth was trembling. "Easy, Mikey," he said hoarsely, in a voice that reminded Michelangelo of when Leo had woken up from his coma at the farmhouse. Thick and deep and raspy and tired. Shaky. "You...you've been hurt bad. Really bad. We need to get you to Honeycutt's lab. Just lie still. Don't move. You're gonna be okay. I swear, Mikey. You..." He choked. Mike frowned. Was Leonardo trying not to cry? "I promise, you'll be okay."

Michelangelo relaxed. His brothers were here. They were going to take care of him. He was hurt, but they could fix it. The burning in his shoulder was getting worse and it was spreading. He whimpered.

Immediately, Raphael's face was right above his, deep emerald eyes staring into his. "Mikey," he rasped. "Mikey..."

He tried to smile. "Raph... hey..." A cough moved through his chest, and with it warm liquid. Damn it, he really hoped he wasn't drooling. He kept eye contact. Raphael was staring at him definitely in horror and fear and worry. "S'okay, Raph..." and he tried to lift his arm to touch his brother's face. He felt his entire right arm twitch. Raph did it for him, grabbed his hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing it. Mikey tried to squeeze his brother's hand. He couldn't. His fingers twitched. Why was he so weak?

Raph let out a shuddering breath. "M-Mikey... stay with me. Please."

Michelangelo frowned. He tried. He tried to furrow his brow, raise an eyeridge. "Raph? I'm... right here, I..." he sucked in a breath that was agony. "I don't... unnerstan..." The burning. It was everywhere now. It was in his head. It was in his head. In his - burning - in his brain.

"He's in shock," Donatello said in his "doctor voice." "Whatever was in this syringe... Oh shit. His eyes. His pupils are dilated. Mikey, can you hear me? Mikey, focus on me..."

But the burning was too much. The world was moving away from him, twisting, shifting. His head was full of fire and cold. He blinked. He thought he blinked. Wait, why was everything so bright? Everything was so scratchy. And loud. And...

Wait, was he shaking? He couldn't think. He struggled to look at something. What was right near his face? Yes. His brother. Those tiger eye chestnut irises. It was Donnie. Donnie would help him!

He opened his mouth. "D... D, I...I'm...on fire...I don't...feel good."

The shaking. It was getting worse. He felt his muscles tensing and clenching. He felt his eyes roll back. He heard his own voice cry out and choke. The shaking. He couldn't stop. His brain was on fire. His brain was on fire! Somebody put it out! Help! Donnie, HELP?

The voices were nothing but air.

"What's happening! Mikey!"

"Raph, no, don't hold him down, he's having a seizure! Leo, I need-"

Silence. Just air. Suddenly, darkness. A deep, intense, thick molasses darkness. There was nothing else. He was floating in it and oh it felt so good. Something told him to sleep.

And so Michelangelo slept.