Chapter 14: Pancakes

Mikey's POV

I wake up all warm and cozy next to my big brother, who's still asleep, and for a moment I forget why I'm in Donnie's bed instead of my own. Then the events of yesterday all come crashing into my mind. A huge lump forms in my throat and I squeeze my eyes shut and snuggle back under the covers. Part of me just wants to stay there and hope it was all just a horrible dream. But as I listen to Donnie's even breathing I calm down a little.

No, it's real. My voice is gone and Donnie can't see and it totally sucks. Like, more than anything that's happened to us before, and that's saying something. But staying in bed pretending it didn't happen won't fix it.

With a sniffle I pull the covers back off my head. I sit up carefully so I don't wake Donnie and rub the sleep and the almost-tears out of my eyes. Stretching to get the kinks out, I glance at the clock. 6:30. It's still early, so Leo might not even be up yet. With sudden determination I stand up and head out into the hallway. I might not be able to fix this situation, but maybe I can help everyone feel a little better. This calls for homemade blueberry pancakes!

By the time I reach the kitchen my heart already feels lighter at the prospect of cooking up some steaming plates of deliciousness for me and my bros. And Sensei, too, if he wants some, but he usually just sticks to tea in the morning.

As I pull out the flour and baking powder and eggs I start to hum a little tune as I usually do. Then I remember you need a voice for humming. I almost let myself feel all sad again, but then I start whistling instead, and it's all good.

Just as I'm mixing the blueberries into the batter and getting the frying pan hot, Leo comes in. Baking therapy has been working wonders on me, so by now I can offer him an almost happy smile along with the tea bags and the cup of already hot water from the kettle I prepared for him. He smiles back, but his smile is less real because I can see the deep sadness in his eyes.

"Hey, Mikey," he says in a low voice as he dunks a tea bag into his mug.

I smile wider and give him a stupid little wave because I can't say "hey" back.

"How's your leg this morning?"

I give Leo a so-so motion with my hand and show him that I'm barely limping on it. He seems satisfied. Honestly, it feels loads better than it did last night.

I go back to whistling as I pour the first three pancakes into the pan. Oh, and I'd better get the coffee pot started for Donnie. He'll be up soon and he's, like, not an actual, functioning person until he's had his coffee.

I glance back at Leo, who's still just sitting there quietly, staring sadly into his tea. I can't stand to see my brothers sad, even when they have a really good reason to be. I flip the first pancakes onto a plate, douse them with syrup, and place the plate in front of Leo with a flourish and an encouraging grin.

He looks up at me then, but his half smile is still sad. "You know, Mikey, you don't have to pretend to be happy just to cheer everyone up. It's okay to be sad sometimes."

"I'm not pretending." My mouth is moving before I remember I have no voice, so when the words don't actually come out, I just frown in a frustrated sort of way.

I don't think Leo gets it. I'm not pretending to be happy. I'm not faking it, or acting like everything's okay. I know it's not okay. But being sad really sucks. And when all of us are sad, it sucks even more. I don't think anyone ever really wants to be sad. I think, really, we want to be happy. It's just a lot harder when really bad stuff happens. It's times like these, when the big stuff sucks so bad it makes you want to cry, that you have to find little things to be happy about. Little things that make you remember that life isn't ever completely one-hundred-per-cent all bad. Little things like blueberry pancakes.

I wish I could say all that to Leo, but I left my phone in my bedroom and it would take too long to try and text something like that anyway. So I just hand him a fork and hope that the blueberry pancakes will do their job and cheer him up at least a little.

.o0o.

Donnie's POV

I lie on my back staring up at where the ceiling should be. I blink a couple times experimentally, but I know it won't do any good. My vision will not be restored and my room will forever be devoid of light. Granted, our windowless underground bedrooms have always been rather dark, but I can usually see the glow of my alarm clock and the little green power light on my computer and the red light on the surge protector under my desk. And in the morning I can usually see a faint glow coming in under the door from the main room because I'm never the first one up.

Today, however, none of those tiny illuminations permeate the blackness. And I know that when I get off my bed and open the door, I won't be greeted by the welcoming lights of the lair - not the neon sign in the kitchen, or the sunshine from the dojo, or even the blinking pinball machine. No. Everything will be dark. Forever.

I still make no move to get up. This gloomy train of thoughts is not succeeding in sparking motivation in me. I know that last night I told Mikey that everything was going to be fine, but I only said that to cheer him up. The truth is, I'm terrified. Sooner or later, though, I'm going to have to get up and face the darkness.

Come on, think, Donatello, think! When the body is deprived of one of its senses, the brain compensates by redirecting more neurons to the sections of the brain devoted to the remaining functional senses, thereby increasing their capacity and functionality. I need to stop focusing on all the things I can't see. Instead, I need to redirect my brain activity and learn to observe things using my four remaining senses. Just how much can I observe on my own without others telling me what I can't see?

Okay, let's start with touch. Mostly right now I feel the bed. No, not good enough. I need to be more specific. I can feel the soft and only slightly scratchy blanket on me, pulled up to my chest and bunched up a little under my left side. I can feel the pillow beneath my head and the mattress - hey, here's an observation. The empty spot beside me is slightly warm. That's where Mikey had been sleeping, apparently not too long ago.

Now for hearing. I can hear the rush of water through the pipes above my head. That's a constant when you live in the sewer. I can hear the steady whir of the case fans in my computer on my desk, and the occasional click from the hard disk drive. And if I listen very carefully, I can hear the clinking of dishes in the kitchen.

And as for smell - the deliciously invigorating smell of coffee is wafting in through the door, which therefore must be at least partly open. Not just coffee. I can also smell. . . pancakes!

The conclusion of my observations: Mikey is up and has made breakfast.

As if on cue, my stomach rumbles. Yeah, pancakes and coffee sound really good right now. I think I found the motivation I need to get up.

In a moment I've reached my door, which is indeed ajar. Walking to the kitchen won't be hard. I've walked the lair in the dark countless times before and I know exactly how many steps to take and where to turn.

I continue to make observations as I walk. To my right I hear the sound of muffled snoring. Conclusion: Raph is still asleep. What about Leo? I pause for a moment, and then I smell it. Peppermint tea. Leo's definitely awake, probably in the kitchen with Mikey.

Okay, I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

Well, I successfully make it to the kitchen doorway without falling in the pool. The scent of pancakes and tea and coffee is much stronger here, as are the noises. I can hear Mikey moving about the stove, and there's the clink of a fork on a plate off to my right. Leo must be sitting at the right end of the table. There is no one else in the room. That means the stools on the left must be vacant.

As I sit down on one of them, I greet my brothers with a "'Morning, Mikey, Leo."

"Good morning, Donnie," answers Leo.

Suddenly a steaming, aromatic mug is shoved into my hands. Mmmmm, coffee! "Thanks, Mikey." The next second I hear a clunk as something rather heavy is placed down on the table by my arm. I reach out to feel what it is and discover a warm, full coffee pot. I smile. Mikey knows I'll need more than one cup today. After that I hear a plate, smelling of blueberries and maple syrup, being set in front of me and a fork placed in my hand.

I take a deep breath. Okay. This is the first time I've eaten a real meal since . . . everything. I mean, I ate some toast, and some cold slices of pizza yesterday, but anyone can eat toast or pizza without seeing it. This is the first meal requiring plate and fork coordination that I've attempted.

Leo must've seen me hesitate because he immediately jumps up. "Here, let me help you with that, Donnie."

I feel my face flush with embarrassment as Leo intercedes and begins cutting my food like I'm a small child. Before I've made up my mind whether to stop him or not, Mikey is there. I can feel him put a hand on Leo's arm and Leo stops attacking my food.

Mikey must be giving Leo some sort of nonverbal sign, but all I hear is Leo saying, "What, Mikey? But he can't see! He needs help."

"Leo," I interrupt, touching his shoulder. "It's fine. I can do it."

At last he concedes. "Alright, Donnie," he says, sitting back on his own stool. "I was only trying to help."

"I know."

I lift my fork and move it around the plate, surprised at how much I can "feel" through the utensil.

I can do this. I can do this.

Okay, these pancakes are seriously the best I've ever tasted. Thick and fluffy and popping with warm, fresh blueberries. Mikey really outdid himself this time. "Wow, Mikey," I say out loud, a smile forming on my lips despite my anxiety. "These are really good!"

"Mikey says, 'Thank you'," comes Leo's voice from my right as I place another successful forkful of pancakes in my mouth.

I frown thoughtfully. Communicating with Mikey is a problem that is going to need a workable solution soon.

I am just finishing the last bites of my breakfast when Master Splinter enters the room. I don't think I actually hear him come in, because his feet never make any sound, but I am somehow aware of his presence before he speaks.

"Leonardo, please awaken Raphael. Training begins in ten minutes."

"Hai, Sensei."

Leonardo obeys without question, but I can't help a surprised "Wait, for all of us?" from escaping my lips.

Sensei merely answers with a calm but stern, "For all of you," before leaving again.

I just sit, silent, on my stool for a few minutes. I had really hoped he'd let me off the hook for training today. I don't know if I'm ready for this.