"...Based on the severity test and his current condition, I'd say the most accurate guess is three weeks minimum. Four weeks max."

The kitchen was silent for a moment as Raph and Leo took in the news. Then, as sudden as the news came, all eyes were on the orange-clad turtle each brother waiting to assess Mike's initial reaction.

Mikey's face stayed frozen leaving his brothers clueless to the panicking dialogue inside his own head.

Okay Mikey, pressures on now. They're waiting for your response. Why, I have no idea. Actually, they're probably waiting for me to have another panic attack like the last two times... which would be a nice exit right now, but my airways feel very nice, thank you. Probably those meds Don gave me...and right when I need it, too! Great, Raph's laughing now. Okay then, ya wanna play it that way Raphie-boy? I'm game...Man, I gotta stop watching day time television.

With new found determination, and pizzazz, Mikey nodded his head, still unsure as to what was expected of him. Raph finally bit down on his laughter after multiple unapproving looks from Don and Leo, not that he was doing them a favor. No, he just needed them to remain on his side for the month. A second later, Mikey was still nodding his head, albeit more subtly now, but a grin was growing on his face. It started with the slow upward pull of his mouth, steadily climbing it's way up until Mike's cheekiest smile was plastered to his face.

"Mike? You alright there?" Don asked, concern peeking it's way through his voice. A nod of the head and a thumbs up was the response as Mike's smile turned into a pained smirk. "You sure?"

"Don, he's fine! Look, he thinks it's darn funny as well. Right, Mime-y, I mean, Mikey?" Raph mocked, moving so that he was now face to face with Mike, who responded by raising a single eye ridge, frowning at Raph's shark-like smile.

With a grim nod, Leo asked, "Don, are you certain? An entire month seems like a long time for something as little as this-"

"Except you seem to be forgetting that this wasn't a little illness. If I remember correctly, he was actually very ill. Not to mention, as I have stated before, Mikey's just prone to more illnesses. His immune system has always been on the shakier side. In fact, it's actually quite amazing that we three aren't as bad as Mikey. Considering our residency and our shared cold-blooded nature. It's not like our childhood was all peaches and roses, either. Honestly, it's a miracle we ever survived those brutal winters before electricity." Don finished with a gesture to Mike, who at this point was scribbling madly on the notepad in front of him, glancing up only when he heard his name.

With a quick frown towards Don, he continued his scribbling trying desperately to finish his thought process before the conversation took another turn. Just as Leo opened his mouth to speak, Mikey threw the pen straight towards him in a rather improvised 'dibs'. Years of practice allowed for Leo to catch the pen mere inches from his beak.

"Nice," The turtle in blue commented dryly, "I'm guessing that's your main form of communication for a month?" Mike nodded an affirmative, hesitating ever so slightly as he tapped the notepad impatiently.

Sighing, Leo grabbed the pad of yellow paper and began to read silently:

"Rule #1 when conversations aren't 1 on 1 then read OUT LOUD, I'd like to be heard, thank you.

Rule #2 don't ignore rule #1"

"Seriously, Mike?" At Mike's frown Leo read on, bypassing the rules entirely and picking up where they ended. With one quick glance up to his brother's pleading face, Leo continued, "Mikey wants to know when he'll be able to join us on our training runs again."

Ignoring Raph's snort, Mikey looked to Don, his eyes practically begging him to allow him this one freedom. Donny cleared his throat, "Well, its only been about a day since his diagnosis. He's been getting better, but I'm not sure if I'd be willing to risk it just yet. I'll keep checking up on him and maybe- key word here, Mikey, is maybe," Donny emphasized before continuing, "then he could potentially join us the day after tomorrow."

Don glanced to Mike, who was practically bouncing in his seat, continuing his innuendo,"and given he'll rest when necessary so his respiratory system remains normal. As in the careful consideration that Laryngitis can -and already has- made breathing an issue, hm?"

Mikey nodded his head, stifling a sudden urge to cough up his one remaining lung. Then, in one fluid movement, Mikey had jumped from his seat, snatched the pad and pen from Leo's grasp, and darted into the living room- smacking the back of Raph's head in the process.

"Why you little-!" Raph roared as he sprung after Michelangelo.

"Raph-!"

"Ah, leave him Leo. Mike knew that would happen." Don said as he fixed himself another cup of coffee. Once he had taken a sip, Don sat down at the table looking over the results intently.

"So, what else do you know about Mike's condition?" Leo asked slowly, fixing his eyes on Don who looked up enough to make eye contact.

"I know that it really isn't anything to worry about too much. Honestly, the worse case here is Mike has another go at hyperventilating and even that should clear up within a week or two. My biggest concern is the obvious torture Raph will be giving Mikey now that he can't squeal." Don replied. Leo always was the mother hen of the four boys.

"I know, Don, honest. I don't mean to sound so doubtful. I'm sure your assessment is right," Leo trailed off, his gaze landing on the hidden Shoji doors just beyond the bend of the hall, "It's just that after what happened with Sensei-" Leo practically whispered the last part, taking a moment to gather himself before continuing his statement, "I just worry, Don. Whenever anyone gets sick, I worry."

"I know, Leo, so do I." Don said just as quietly.

The two sat in silence for a moment, each thinking back to their own dark memories until it was broken by Leonardo, his hand landing upon his brother's shoulder. "Don, I know being the medic is hard on you. You've said it yourself, you're an engineer, a mechanic-not a doctor. If there's ever a way I could help, please, don't hesitate to ask. We've only have each other. You, me, Raph, and Mike. It's been a hard year for all of us, but don't carry it all on your shoulders, okay? I... I know that never works out so well in the end."

Looking up, Don held Leo's gaze observing how much older he seemed to be. Just five minutes ago they were all the same age and suddenly here stands his brother. Still seventeen, but so much wiser. So weathered.

"Thanks, Leo. Same goes for you. Even the leader could use some counsel every now and again."

A soft laugh erupted from the turtle in blue, "Then it's a deal." With a sympathetic smile, Leo stood to leave, stopping as Donatello fondly added,"It is Mikey, Leo. He always bounces back." And with that, Leonardo grabbed his tea, heading off for his morning meditation.

Don watched as Leo exited the kitchen, then got up as well stopping in the doorway for just a second.

"I hope so."


"C'mere shell fer brains!" Raph shouted as he followed Mike into the kitchen. Though Raph hated to admit it, Mikey was the fastest of the four. The fact that he is as sick as he is and can still lead Raph on a wild-goose chase throughout the Lair was evidence to that.

Raph lunged towards Mike, frustration evident by his very facial expression, and just like before Mikey danced out of the way. Then, right as the red-banded hothead was about to grab the energetic turtle in orange, Mike's shell cell rang effectively freezing both turtles mid-step.

Well that's unfortunate. How, exactly, am I supposed to answer a phone call?

The ringing continued as Mike glanced to Raph, his eyes imploring for his help. With a nonchalant whistle, Raph slowly backpedaled to the doorway of the room, leaving a particularly frenzied younger brother to his own devices. Remembering a particularly long lecture on the importance of answering her phone calls, Mike flipped his shell cell open with a quiet click. Spotting Raph still smirking in the hall, Michelangelo gave Raph the best kicked puppy face he could muster while holding the phone out. Smirking, Raph put his hands up while walking further out of the silenced turtle's reach.

Oookay then. Think fast Mike, she sounds pissed.

Peering in from the doorway, Raph had to hold back a laugh at how helpless Mike looked. His face was utterly priceless. It was the epitome of a gaping fish on a sugar high. His face showed the shock of the predicament where as his body language showed that he was in the middle of an inner battle of sorts.

The muffled sounds of April on the other line was all Mikey could hear as he tried to think of a way to communicate. With an audible sigh, he did the only thing he could do and ran straight to Don's lab. He knew Don hated it when he did that, but he was convinced this was an emergency. The twenty-four-year-old was like a sisterly mother to the turtles and held a power of authority that was both friendly and intimidating. April was certainly a force to be reckoned with. And currently? Mike would rather not reckon.

Skidding to a sloppy halt, Mike's feet slid a couple extra inches as he missed the doorway to the lab ever-so-slightly. With a quick change of trajectory he ran into the room, bumping into the swivel chair that was sitting idly by. This got Don's attention, to say the least, as it rolled it's way into some rather fragile boxes filled with spare parts resulting in a loud crash.

"Mikey! Dammit, I've told you not to- what are you doing?" Mike interrupted Don by flailing his arms before shoving the small communicative device into the Brainiac's hand.

"It's the shell cell, Mikey." The younger turtle face palmed, sighing loudly. Seeing that his immediate older brother was clueless yet again, he stuck his two fingers out mimicking a phone.

"Call someone?" Don guessed. He never was very good at charades. However, seeing as how Michelangelo just stopped entirely and stared at him, Don found it safe to assume he was incorrect. Looking down told him how, as he could see the phone was already answered and waiting for someone to...and then it clicked.

"Oh! I see..." Don said sheepishly.

Finally! Bro, if I'm gonna spend a month like this, you're gonna have to learn to play Guestures...Who would'a thunk. Our resident genius can't understand simple charades.

With his adrenaline still pulsing through his veins, Mike entertained his fidgety hands by fiddling with the random trinkets and thingamajigs sprawled around Don's desk, only half-listening to their conversation. After all, she did call for me- not Don.

"Erm, uh, hey April. Oh, yeah, we're all fine. Mike just, sort of..."

Here goes...

"...contracted a rather severe case of laryngitis..."

Cue a motherly freak-out session.

"No, no. It's alright April, he's fine. Well. Mostly, he developed a type of aphonia... Well, think less psychological and more like a result of his perpetual illnesses... I gave him antibiotics for the viral end of the illness. There's really nothing I can do for the inflammation at the moment... An old family recipe, huh?"

And as long as I'll be forced to down yet another one of Aprils family's poisons- I mean remedies- I'd rather not know the ingredients. What's so wrong with a couple Tylenol and cinnamon tea?

With a casual salute to Don signaling his departure, Mike left for the currently uninhabited living room. After flipping through the channels enough times to figure out nothing was on, Mike turned the television off. Reaching for his notepad and pen, which until recently, had been sprawled out on the floor from his previous altercation with his crankiest brother.

Ah, boredom. My old friend. Heh. With a tired sigh, Mike allowed his mind to travel randomly, his thoughts drifting off as he absently twirled his pen.

Silence. It carries a mystery many have yet to discover. There's a heaviness about it. A power. It's rare use creates a raw potential. The over-use of such an ability strikes fear into the hearts of even the bravest of men. Lonely. Desolate. Dark. Cold. Mad. Maybe that's why sound has penetrated every thought within society these days- to avoid the silence. I mean, it's silence which begs questions too difficult to answer. It' draws you in. Makes you doubt. Makes you think. Maybe that's why Don and Leo wish for it all the time. They're so serious, it sort of suits them. The mystery. Though, I'm not sure how mysterious they could be to me. I mean, we grew up together. There's not a whole lot of mystery when you know someone's entire life story. Yet... what if? Silence is a mystery but it's often brushed aside as simple. Maybe it's silent for a reason. Maybe silence has something to hide. Maybe it doesn't want to hide it. What if silence wants to speak and to answer and it tries, simply incapable of answering. Unable. Silenced. The an even scarier thought would be if it chose to be silent, a somber vow, of sorts. Guess I'll have to get used to it either way.

Man, I wish Raph were out here. He says I'm the one who can't be quiet, but he obviously hasn't ever thought about how loud he is. The guy doesn't even shut up in his sleep, he's like a chainsaw or something. Annoys the living crap out of me, but that's kind of a brother thing, I guess. We get on one another's nerves. Sometimes it's on purpose and sometimes it's not, but I'd be willing to think that it's something in our subconscious that makes us want to irritate each other the way we do. If you think about it long enough- it sort of makes sense, too. That we annoy each other in an effort to stay close, as if in order to acknowledge the existence of one another we have push the one shiny red button we initially know better than to push. It doesn't matter, though, because in the end, we do this as best friends. The cool thing is that we can do whatever to each other because we're not just friends- we're brothers and we'll have each other's backs no matter what. I couldn't really imagine life without either of my brothers. I wouldn't want to. We've lost enough, lately.


"Mikey, April said she'd be happy to-oh," Don paused upon seeing the young turtle sound asleep on the couch. A small smirk adorned his face as he grabbed one of their spare blankets tossing it over the slumbering turtle. Then, as quietly as possible he disappeared back into his lab. It was about time Mike got some actual rest.


I know, it's a slow moving train here, but some interesting things should start up soon enough... so please REVIEW!