This has to be a bad dream, right? I used to get fever dreams all the time when I was sick as a kid. I thought I grew out of them, though. What goes around comes around again, right? I don't remember having such a hard time breathing during them, though. Huh. Fever dream... they were always super realistic. And I saw Abe and Chuck during my coughing fit. So,maybe I knocked myself out and now I'm having this nightmare. Yeah. That could potentially make sense...
"Mikey! Michelangelo, calm down!- what's going on, Don?"
Leo? Good question there bro, I would ask myself but I'm sort of...at a loss for words, heh.
"I think he's hyperventilating."
Hyperventilating? Well...that's always another option. I'll pin that next to fever dreams. Although, I'm pretty sure I'm awake right now. My dreams have never been this realistic before. Somehow you could always tell they were at least a little fake. If not in the moment then afterwards.
"Hyperventi-! Don! What do we do?"
Denial. I am SO in denial right now! There's no way a simple cough could have destroyed my voice! I mean, c'mon! I know my voice was botched before but it was just a coughing fit. I've had so many of those the past couple days. I... shell. I really lost my voice. But that's temporary...right? I wish I could ask Don- OH WAIT.
"We need to calm him down-"
If I had any breath right now, I would have snorted loud and proud. Calm me down? After I just found out my new life calling is being a mime? Yeah, good luck with that. I always preferred stand up comedy. Preferences and all that, y'know?
"This will distract his mind enough to allow his breathing to settle." Donny explained as he quickly took charge of the situation by dumping a mysteriously acquired cup of ice-cold water upon the panicking turtle's face. "This is the first time he's had an attack like this, so there's not much we can do since we don't have any of the needed resources or equipment."
"Equipment? Don-?"
"Relax, by equipment I meant an inhaler. Nothing as drastic as a heart monitor or anything. Besides, a panic attack is entirely different." Don replied in full doctor mode, kneeling beside Mikey as he rubbed comforting circles on his shell.
...And suddenly I'm sopping wet. What the shell was that for, exactly?! Whatever it was, it worked. Michelangelo thought as his mind began to clear and his breath came easier with each greedy gulp.
Eventually, Mike was reduced to a small hiccup. Once his breathing was mostly-normal, Raph began to grow restless for answers to his questions. "Damn, what the shell was that? Hey, ya alright there, Mikey?" Don and Leo looked intently at Michelangelo, each equally curious.
Well this will be entertaining.
With his brothers' undivided attention, Mike finally wiped the water from his eyes happily accepting the hand towel Leo offered the dripping turtle.
Okay, deep breath. His breathe hitched. Maybe I can do this now.
Opening his mouth, Mike attempted an answer only to be met with the same results as before.
That's so not cool.
Clearing his throat with confidence, Mike tried again. Nothing. Water didn't help. Clearing away any throat gunk didn't help. Screaming didn't help. Nothing seemed to work. Not even a hushed whisper escaped his throat. Here I am with no voice and life doesn't have the decency to provide a a magical sign that appears with my thoughts written upon it. Wiley gets one but apparently I, Michelangelo, am not worthy of such an honor. Damn mammals.
This time it was Don who asked, doctor mode on full power, "Mike, I need you to tell me what's wrong, okay?"
I hate it when Don uses that voice on me. I'm not dumb, I know the situation, alright? Is it too late to blame Klunk? Apparently cats have a tendency to steal tongues or whatever. With a nod of his head, Mike looked around at his three brothers. Each wore their worry on their faces as they anticipated Mike's response. Where's that quadruplet telepathy when ya need it?
"Can you hear us, alright, Mikey? Don, can he hear us?" Leo assumed after seeing my confused stare. Which, of course, resulted in Raphael's sarcastic, "He's not deaf, numb-nuts. You're not deaf, right Mikey? See he shook his head no, just let him-"
"Raph, you're not helping. I was just suggesting a possibility and-"
Suddenly frustrated, Mike clapped his hands to silence his brothers before an argument arose. Once again holding his brother's undivided attention, Mike pointed to his throat with a shrug of his shoulders, his lips mouthing the words he wished he could speak.
If their confused expressions are anything to go by, they still don't get it. Mike mentally griped.
Pointing to his left eye then shaking his head emphatically and making a makeshift puppet mouth out of his hand, Michelangelo mouthed to his older brothers, locking eyes in a desperate attempt for them to understand. Well, there goes my theory of Leo having Jedi mind-reading powers. Several gestures later, Raphael finally understood. With a deep chuckle, Raph declared, "I don't believe it! Guys, he lost his voice!"
"Impossible," Don countered ignoring Michelangelo's rapid head nods, "People don't just lose their voice, Raph. I mean, they can, but they'd have to be constantly ill...all...the...time. Shell, Mikey, you mean you really can't say a word?"
Mikey immediately shook his head with a curt nod, motioning a cross over where his heart would be then holding his right hand up mimicking that of a boy scout. What followed this discovery wasn't exactly shocking as Leo, Raph and Don burst out in uncontrollable laughter each brother sharing cheesy one-liners at their little brother's expense.
Frustrated and more than a little embarrassed, Mike made to leave the room. However, one step was all he took before dots swam around his vision, the sudden movement giving the orange-banded turtle an all too familiar sensation of flight. Strong hands caught him just in time, the laughter silencing just as abruptly.
"Mikey!"Leo and Don chorused, each staring intently at the limp form in Raph's arms.
"I think it's the illness making him do that." Don said, breaking the tense silence.
Finally shaking off his initial shock of the situation, Raph piped up, saying, "Is he gonna be alright, Don?"
"Yeah, of course, as long as he takes things slow. This illness seems to be effecting his respiration and he's probably dehydrated. Standing up too fast just sort of knocked him out, I guess. "
Raph adjusted the small turtle so that he held him, ready to carry, his worried eyes locking with Don's calculating gaze.
"Take him to my lab. I'll need to test him, anyways."
"Don?" Leo called after Raph had left the room, "How serious do you think this is?"
Silence penetrated the kitchen as Don weighed Leo's actual intentions. "I don't know, Leo. It's probably just a nasty illness. He's had worse and you know it. I don't think it's anything we can't handle." Don watched Leo nod his head in humble defeat before following his brothers into his lab, Leo trailing close behind.
By the time the latter two turtles entered the lab, Mike was already coming to. Raph coaxing him with practiced ease.
"Welcome to the land of the living, Mikey." Don said, immediately checking the orange-clad turtle's temperature, "And it looks like you're gonna make it, after all. Fever finally broke. How do ya feel?" He asked, doing his best to sound casual. Being the medic of the family, Donatello had learned how his brothers would behave in the makeshift infirmary. For instance, Leonardo would never admit to pain. Raph was the same, only, where Leo would try to cover it up by worrying about everyone else or taking a self-inflicted guilt trip, Raph would cover it up by using his 'tough turtle' attitude and would be a pain in the shell the whole time. As for Mikey, he hated the infirmary with a passion. Seeing as how he spent so much time inside, Don understood how the positive turtle hated the negative attention, so he would always try to make it quick and casual. The casualty really helped in most cases, giving Mike a sense of normalcy. Ever since Don could remember, Mike always took change of any sort the hardest, and though he could handle it better as the years went on, it couldn't hurt to ease him in. If nothing else it would keep him calm.
Mike opened his mouth to reply then quickly snapped it shut, settling for a sideways thumb.
"Uhuh..." Don commented shoving some ibuprofen into Mike's hand, a glass in the other. "This ought to help your head for now."
If I was embarrassed before, I'm mortified now. Passing out like a little damsel in distress. How much more pathetic can I get? I downed the pills and water- happily might I add. Something out of the corner of my eye stood out to me but when I turned it was just Raphael...staring at me, like he was trying to read me or something all the while having this stupid smirk on his face. Irritated, I stared back. I could practically hear the old western music playing as we continued our standoff. Only one will win. And, admittedly, Raph had the better ammo this round. I mean, my voice is one of my greatest weapons, after all. Not that I couldn't beat him without it, but why pull at a door marked push, right?
Walking between the two warring brothers, Don began to explain, "Laryngitis. That has to be it. It... it would explain your..." Don paused, searching for the right words to say, "...spontaneous verbal vocalization deficiency or in medical terminology, your suddenly developed aphonia."
Did I detect some amusement in there? Aw, c'mon. I mean, I know I'm not the perfect patient and all, but sheesh.
"I'm sorry Mikey, it's just the irony of the whole thing. You have to admit, it's funny..." Don consoled, pausing to try and bite down on his laughter.
And apparently I really am as easy to read as an open book...
Finally gaining control over his laughter, Don continued his explanation, "Laryngitis has a possible chance to occur when one has been sick for quite some time, especially when the illness is in your chest like it was." Don explained, locking eyes with Mikey. "I'm willing to guess that since you weren't really resting up to the extent I told you to paired with the harsh coughs you contracted caused enough strain in order to create a rather harsh inflammation within your larynx. Which is also because of an overuse of your vocal chords when it was already causing too much strain. The results, of which caused you to, well, lose your voice entirely. Of course, this is probably only temporary."
Probably?! How long is this gonna last, Don?!
"Okay, so how long do you think this will last?"
Maybe Leo is a Jedi, after all...
"I think the real question here is how long will Mikey last. I mean, just look at him! He's about to blow a gasket already!"
"Voice-wise" Don said, giving a half-hearted glare towards Raph, "...Well, it depends on whether Michelangelo's case is acute or chronic."
Leo nodded his head as he absorbed the information.
"And, before you ask, no. There is no quick fix. Unless Mikey's health takes a downward spiral, medications and rest is really the only treatment but even that is simply for the laryngitis. His aphonia is likely to be less forgiving."
An awkward silence invaded the room as Mikey shifted uncomfortably in the old cot. It was really the only thing besides the scattered medical supplies, that doubled Don's lab as an infirmary.
Leo and Raph, understanding their presence was no longer needed for the time-being, hastily retreated from the suddenly sullen room.
With a quick swig of his cold coffee, Don began compiling all the necessary supplies to further diagnose Michelangelo. He was almost done setting up the experiment when a timid knock garnered his attention. "Mikey? Are you feeling alright?"
Mike gave a small nod, sitting himself in Don's swivel chair before Don could claim it for himself where he spun himself once then stopped and stared at his older brother. Opening his mouth, Mike paused, his expression turning sour as he contemplated his means of communication. Might as well try lip-reading. So with a sense of confidence, Mike slowly mouthed his thoughts. And then again. And again. And apparently, had the turtles been human, Don would never understand anything people said across a classroom. He could read anything and everything but lips.
"What are you trying to say, exactly?"
With an overly exaggerated shrug, Mike threw his hands up releasing a frustrated sigh in the process.
"Oh. Are you confused? Like, about the test?"
Suddenly perking up at the spot on guess, Mike placed his finger to where his nose would be, a giant grin nearly splitting his face in two while nodding his head in the universal sign of 'yes'.
"Want me to start from the top? You have laryngitis. More than likely, you talking in the kitchen earlier caused you to cough and that cough just so happened to be strong enough to rack your already strained vocal chords, which is one of the main causes of laryngitis- strained vocal chords and coughing. Then, the mixture of your sickness and shock made you hyperventilate. Twice. But difficulty breathing is also a common sideffect to laryngitis." Don explained, "All I need to do now is test you to see whether your laryngitis is acute or chronic. Acute would mean this will only last a couple of days where as chronic would mean it's a little more severe and can last anywhere from three to four weeks. So... ya ready to figure this thing out?"
Thirty minutes and a couple medical tests later, Mike and Don were both sitting on the desk waiting for the results.
"So, you can't even whisper?" Don asked curiously.
Mike shook his head no, frustration clear on his face.
"Hm... ya sure?" Mike only stared indifferently. "Okay, okay. I believe you. Sheesh... if looks could kill..."
Mike huffed, placing his hand underneath his chin in the perfect thinking position. "What are you-?" Don's question was interrupted by the snapping of Mike's fingers as he practically jumped off the small desk and began rummaging through the many filing cabinets and drawers.
"Can I help you find something there, Mike?" Don asked half in fear for his lab and the other half in sheer morbid curiosity, if not for what he was looking for then for how he would try to explain so without the use of words. A few frightening clanks later provided a small, satisfactory gasp from Mike as he seemed to find what he had been looking for.
As it turns out, it was a spare notepad Don hadn't used yet. Mikey eagerly grabbed a pen from the cluttered desk, writing, 'May I?'
Don chuckled at the sheer excitement he saw in Mikey's eyes, "It's all yours."
'Yes! :)'
"So..." Don trailed hesitantly, his voice full of brotherly concern, "How are you handling this, Mikey?"
Mike blinked, his eyes searching the floor as he contemplated a response. With a twirl of the pen, Mike finally scribbled down a reply, lifting the pad up for Don to read:
'In a word...it sucks. But I'll manage. Thinking of taking up miming.'
Don snorted at the reply, a smile illuminating both boy's faces.
"I always forget that you're left-handed. It suits you."
Mike smiled at that, slowly marking the paper before passing the pad to Don. Shooting his brother a curious glance, Don looked down onto the pad, chuckling as he grabbed a pencil from behind him. Planting a big 'X' in the middle of the grid, Don passed the pad back to Michelangelo.
"You know I always win these things, right? Undefeated champ, right here!" He boasted with a playful shove. The look he received needed no explanation. Mike was up for the challenge.
Thirty minutes later, Don's floor was covered in crumpled papers. Mike was furiously scribbling about cheating and evil brothers when a loud chime broke both brothers from their competition. Offering his brother a hand up, Don calmly walked over to his laptop, Mike hovering just about his shoulder.
The sudden stiffness of Donatello's shoulders didn't escape Michelangelo's scrutiny as his brother turned to look him in the eye.
"I'm sorry, Mike, the results say it's chronic. You better hold onto that notepad for a while."
A/N: Dun dun dun... REVIEW PLEASE!
