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Chapter 10
Looking up from dumping ketchup on Leo's plate, Mikey was not surprised but still saddened when Don arrived in the kitchen alone.
"He's gone back to bed" was all his brother said as explanation.
"He looked like he needed some more beauty sleep," Mikey said, trying for humour.
A small smile tugged at Don's mouth. "In that case, I think we all need some more beauty sleep," he retorted as he grabbed an ice pack from the freezer, wrapped it in a tea towel, and applied it to his bruised left hand before taking a seat at the table well out of Leo's messy reach. "Hey, Sensei, do we still have that remedial tea for low immune systems?"
"Does Raphael require a cup?" Splinter asked, his question innocent but his eyes sharp.
"I think we all need a cup," was the quiet reply. "These last few days have drained us of energy."
"Maybe Leo ate it?" joked Mikey. He nodded to the toddler in his high chair who enthusiastically devoured his scrambled eggs with sausage, cheese, and lots of ketchup.
"Yeah, maybe." His brother looked down at his ice-pack-covered hand.
"I will set the kettle on," Splinter said, taking Don's shoulder comfortingly. "Would you like some sausage with your eggs, Donatello?"
"Please, Father. Thank you."
Mikey sat next to his older brother. "How's your hand?"
"It's feeling better. Thanks, Mike."
He hesitated and then broached the subject weighing on his mind: "Raph sure was something in training, huh?"
"Yeah."
A monosyllabic answer from Don? The genius chatter-box who couldn't speak plain, dumbed-down English to save his life? Was the world ending? "It was…kind of freaky. He moved just like Leo used to."
"Yeah. I know."
"…Is he okay?"
Don sighed and looked up at him. Mikey searched his eyes, desperately wanting to understand what his hot-tempered brother was thinking. "He's…conflicted. He's not doing so great." He looked away, fingering a corner of the tea towel. "The guilt is going to kill him if we don't fix this," he informed the near-silent kitchen, the spat of oil in the pan and Leo's happy munching the only sounds. He glanced at Splinter who watched him with intense, onyx eyes. "He's too tired to be angry."
One pair of black eyes and one pair of baby-blue widened with shock, and Mikey's thoughts went through a loop. Raph wasn't angry? Not at himself? Not at the Foot? The world really was ending. Everything had been turned on its head. Raph was always angry. Even when he was happy, he was angry. He was their perpetual, hot-headed and foul-tempered brother, something they could almost always count on. But these last few days had erased that part of him, leaving, according to Don, soul-eating guilt and a bone-deep exhaustion that was not helped by obviously sleep-less nights.
"All done!" Leo announced, grabbing the air between himself and Mikey. "Mikey, down!"
Mikey went through the motions of cleaning up the toddler absentmindedly, his focus all for the worry for his immediate older brother. He barely noticed when Leo ran happily away. But he did notice when the child paused and sniffed the air.
"Mikey, burning!"
"It's just Sensei cooking, Leo," Don answered. "You can smell the stove and the sausage."
But Leo shook his head, sniffed again and wandered farther away from the kitchen. "Daddy, burning." He pointed up at the second level towards the bedrooms.
Splinter's low ears shot upward as he, too, sniffed. "Michelangelo, watch the stove!" he nearly shouted as he raced out of the kitchen.
"You know, I can smell something burning, too," Mikey said nervously. He dashed to the stove, turned it off, took the pan off the burner, and followed Splinter, Don right behind him.
They arrived at Raph's door which was flung wide. Peeking around Sensei, Mikey's jaw dropped open. Raph sat on his bedroom floor, his back to them, with two meditation candles and a stick of incense. The unexpected scent of sandalwood filled the room, and the orange-masked turtle's heart sank an inch or two in his chest. Last year for Christmas, Leo had gifted everyone with individual meditation kits, complete with candles, blown glass holders and a box of incense sticks: Mikey had gotten magnolia incense, Donnie honeysuckle, Splinter Nag Champa, and Raph sandalwood. He knew for a fact that everyone had used the last of their incense a month ago, except Raph who hadn't even used one stick. Raphael didn't exactly hate meditation but he didn't like it either. He never went out of his way to do it, preferring to have it asked of him during training rather than enjoy personal and private sessions; but there he sat, as unmoving as stone, putting Leo's gift to use, and quite possibly unaware that he had an audience.
Mikey grabbed Leo when the kid tried to squeeze past Splinter into the room, and dragged him away with a finger on his lips to keep him quiet.
Splinter turned away and closed the door soundlessly, and together the four family members returned to the kitchen.
"He really isn't okay, is he?" Mikey asked solemnly as he plopped into a chair and let go of Leo who, instead of running away to play, stayed where he was and watched the conversation with wide eyes.
"I've never seen him meditate on his own time," added Donnie, his gaze averted.
Splinter returned the pan to its burner and set a full kettle on to boil. "At least your brother is seeking a more constructive remedy than turning to his usual outlets."
"Like tearing apart the punching bag or sneaking out topside or beating me to a pulp?" muttered Mikey.
"You may notice that those require physical activity," Splinter pointed out, flipping over the eggs. "And while I can appreciate the advantages that come with working through problems via physical exercise, sometimes the mind requires more careful attention. It appears that Raphael is figuring that out, just as Leonardo did."
All three pairs of eyes fell on the toddler who smiled up at them.
"What can we do, Sensei?" Mikey asked, his eyes filling.
Splinter sighed and looked away, and a pang of anguish tore through Mikey's heart as he watched his father struggle to be strong. "We can only remain watchful over each other," he said at last, quietly.
Mikey hesitated for a moment, biting his lower lip, then got up from his chair and went to the old rat. He wrapped his arms around his dad's shoulders and ignored it when Splinter stiffened in surprise. "That means we'll watch over you, too, Dad," he murmured.
Sensei's whole body relaxed and he bowed his head, patting Mikey's arm. "Thank you, my son," he said, and Mikey could have sworn that, even though he couldn't see Sensei's face, the weary rat was crying.