Chapter Twenty-One

Sirra had glared and grumbled for hours after Tirren had finished his run around the yard, throwing water balloons at everyone and everything, shrieking with laughter. But she smiled the whole time, and hugged Michelangelo randomly, and used medical scanning equipment on him.

At the kitchen table, Sirra showed them on the small screen where all that damaged had healed and was still healing. The left leg, she explained, might always be a little unsteady as the hamstrings had been affected just as much as the quadriceps. The sabre had in fact nicked his lung just enough to barely go unnoticed. Some muscles and tendons would be permanently scarred and the entire autonomic system was still going to be shaky. Mikey would struggle with chronic pain and damaged nerves after all, as Donatello brought up. Sirra suggested that his "vast shinobi skills" could mitigate the pain during battles. Leonardo mentioned consistent meditation, at which Michelangelo groaned while Raphael snorted.

"Would you like some of my hyperactivity medicine?" Terrin asked, rocking on his heels, standing next to Sirra as the turtles sat around the table.

Raising his head from his hands, Mikey grinned. "No, that's okay. I have my own ways."

Tirren's brow wrinkled. "But… it needs to be medicated! You can't pay attention or concentrate on your lessons. What other ways are there?"

"Tirren!" his sister hissed. But the four turtles just smiled.

"Well," Donnie said, "On our planet, we have medications, but they're only for humans – for now. The dominant species on the planet. We have to hide, remember. We're…mutants. They wouldn't accept us enough to give Mikey a medicine all the time."

"Plus, there are little mental tricks Mikey can do," Leo said, tapping the side of his head. "I know it isn't the same as medicine, but our father has many tea blends that are medicated."

Tirren pondered this. "My medicine tablets have plants and chemicals mixed together. I guess I understand. Anyway!" and he bounced in his seat, and the way Sirra and Michelangelo relaxed signaled that the topic was changing again. "Why are you wearing bandages? I thought you were all healed?"

The turtles blinked. "Oh," Mikey said. "Um. I don't know? I was having nightmares, and when I woke up, some of my scarred-over wounds had opened up."

"Oh, that isn't good," Sirra murmured, coming to inspect him. "Do you remember what happened in your dreams?"

Mikey pressed his lips together, glancing at his brothers, who shared a desperate expression. "I…I dreamed about battling the Alchemist. I dreamed that he hurt me all over, and each time, the blades were tipped with poison…"

Sirra's eyes welled up in sympathy. "I see. Considering that you're the only surviving victim, I guess you're the only one who could reveal that sort of thing. The Alchemist doesn't like loose ends. All of his clients are guaranteed their potions and elixirs to absolution. Even the…" She cleared her throat.

"The what?" Raphael snarled.

"Well, some of his clients are known assassins, is all I can say right now."

The silence stretched out thickly, heavily.

"I have some games we could play!" the little boy said loudly. Michelangelo grinned widely. "I'll play with you, buddy!"

"Sister, please?"

"Yes, Tirren, fine. But I need to look a little further at Michelangelo's injuries, all right? In my actual lab, not just with the small scanner."

"Okay! May I please watch?"

Sirra smiled. "Is this because you wish to be a doctor like you said?"

"A neuropsychologist!" Tirren corrected, folding his arms. "Knowing how my own brain works is interesting enough. I want to know how eveybody's brain works."

"Well," and Sirra poked his snout, "that will require a lot of focus and attention."

"It can be my hyperfocus! All us Cognitive Attentive Tempo Disorder people can hyperfocus. I bet Mikey can!"

"You make a fair point," said Donatello. "Mikey is a very talented artist and storyteller. He can beat anyone at video games. And, when we are practicing our ninjitsu, once Mikey falls into a particular rhythm, good luck snapping him out of it. You should see him out in battle. He can take down six people at once! He gets so focused that he doesn't stop until there's nothing left! But," and he winked, "sometimes he does get too distracted and will go back and forth, but that's still part of hyperfocus shifting his short attention span from one target to another."

As Tirren nodded in fascination, Donnie continued. "On our world, we call it Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. Sometimes, instead of hyperactivity, there is Inattentiveness, which is the opposite of Mikey and you, very quiet, very daydreamy. But many humans don't think it's a real condition. And they don't realize what hyperfocus is."

He smiled at his younger brother, then grew concerned at the look of fear and confusion and almost betrayal. " Mikey? What did I say?"

"I…I…I didn't know that. Do I really focus like that? Is that what hyperfocus is? Do you really mean that about me in battle? I thought nobody wanted to team up with me because I get too distracted and I screw up all the time! Donnie, why are you saying this now? I thought I was the family failure because of my short attention span and my lack of discipline and now you're saying that… that… what are you saying, D?" His voice was close to breaking.

Both Sirra and Terrin sucked in deep breaths. The other turtles made tiny noises and grew pale.

Michelangelo rounded on Leonardo and Raphael. "What about you two?" he cried. "All that insulting and poking at my brain smarts. Making fun of my intelligence and my concentration out in battle. Do you actually mean that? Is it because you're just trying to push me to see if I can focus? Maybe you'd like me better if I were taking medication, huh? Less energy spent on pranks and jokes and leading the Foot right to us because I shout my war cry and get distracted? Do you even know what 'Booyakasha' means? It means 'love to the very moment, celebration to the hour'. I thought you knew that! I made it up to signal victory! Because I always know we'll win! Even if they beat us up! Because we're us, we're the Hamato clan, we are the Mutant Ninja Turtles, there's nobody like us, anywhere! And wherever we are, we need to celebrate, because we're together, us brothers." He took a shaky breath, squeezed his eyes shut. "Sometimes I wonder if…"

There was a pause so long and so intense that Leo hurried to his side and grabbed his hand. Michelangelo jerked away, but didn't pull out of Leo's grasp. His eyes snapped open, crystal blue shiny, his cheeks turned the dark green of a blush.

"No," he gasped. "Never mind. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't yell at you. I can't. I can't say those things. I'm sorry. You saved my life. You watched over me. You healed me. You saved my life, I can't…"

"Mikey, wait," Leo said softly, and tugged on his arm. "Don't. You are right. We have been jerks in the past. And we're sorry. We mock and tease you as the baby of the family, but never because we think you're lesser than us. Never."

"NEVER." And Raphael was kneeling, grabbing Mikey's chin, turning his head, green eyes glaring into blue. "You hear us? We have never thought you were less for who you are. You're our annoying little brother, you're supposed to rile us up. You can't help being who you are, especially with a brain disorder. And we know that. And if we give you grief, it is only because we see your raw power and we really want you to use it. You get me?"

Mike sniffled frowning at him. "Really?"

"Really." Raphael took both of his sais and pressed them to his upper plastron at angles. "Cross my goddamn heart, Little One."

Mikey smiled at the gesture. "Nice turn of phrase."

"Mikey," Donatello breathed, grabbing his brother's free hand, "We mean every word we say here and now. We all get frustrated with each other. Annoyed. Irritated. Sometimes it can feel easiest to take it out on the youngest sibling, but with you it's also because you radiate happiness and joy and exuberance in a way I have never seen. It's like you're surrounded by an aura that just absorbs our worries and spins them into gold. But if our words punch through to you and hurt you, it's so important to tell us. In the heat of the moment, none of us may be thinking clearly. You light us up, you relax us, you remind us that it's all going to be all right. You are our heart, Mikey. Nothing can survive without a heart." There were tears in Donnie's eyes. "You know we adore and cherish you beyond all reason and rationality, right?"

Gulping through his own tears, Mikey nodded.

"Good. Because reason and rationality are not always welcome where love is involved." And Donatello came on Mikey's other side and opened his arms for a hug. All the turtles smushed together as much as their suits would allow.

A few feet away, Sirra and Tirren stood silently, holding each other and crying. Tirren whispered as quietly as possible, "Will Mikey be okay?"

Sirra managed to smile. "With family like that, he will be invincible."

Everyone gathered in Sirra's lab, where Donatello had to struggle to keep from exploring heavily. Sirra saw him twitching and laughed, saying that once Mikey was cleared for playing with Tirren, she would give him a tour. Leo and Raph decided they would spar in the backyard.

Michelangelo lay, half reclining, on a mattress placed on a metal table. His suit was off and a collar around his neck replaced the need while he was indoors. Sirra removed the bandages, caked with dried blood, then set up scanners around the bed, wirelessly linked to a monitor above the bed. In her hand was the portable scanner from earlier. Mikey joked that he felt like he was in an episode of Space Heroes. Sirra said that it sounded similar to an entertainment program they watched, about the crew of a spacecraft exploring the galaxy.

Sirra turned on all the scanners and focused the handheld at his skull. On the wall monitor, the images were far more detailed. Everyone winced at the extraordinary scarring and muscle tearing, the split skin and rebuilding nerves. It was a mess. It was a map of a memory none of them wanted.

"I can definitely give you medicine that will close these reopened wounds and keep your inner tissue along its rebuilding path," Sirra said. "I think you shouldn't have any trouble going up against the Alchemist, or anyone at this point. Although, from what I see on the brain imaging scan, there is a little more work that needs to be done with your new psionic center."

Michelangelo just nodded. "That is totally being taken care off. I have, like, subconscious healing crews helping out."

Sirra smiled. "Ah! Coping mechanisms in active form. That is good. However, if you wish I also have an injectable neurochemical elixir that might speed the process. Those of us Cadranians who have psychic abilities use it when we've burned out. And you have a lot of growing to do."

"I guess that's okay. Donnie, what do you think?"

"I can't see the harm." Donatello had picked up another gadget, turning it over in his hands. He missed the grins and light coughs his brothers didn't pretend to hide.

Sirra applied salve to the wounds, rebandaging only the largest or deepest. The salve would work as a glue-like bandage by itself. She injected the elixir, tested the reflexes on his legs, gave him a medicated drink for pain relief, and pronounced him well. Tirren practically pulled Mikey off the table, and Donatello shifted his weight impatiently until Sirra dismissed the others, the two scientists already disappearing into the vast workshop.

Leo and Raph glanced at each other, shrugged, and raced for the backyward. Mikey and Tirren skipped arm in arm to the playroom.

It had been hours. Once fully indoors, the turtles replaced their suits with the environmental collars. Leonardo and Raphael, shiny with sweat, received towels and were shown to the two bathrooms with showers. Donatello had not quite gotten into everything in the workshop, but close enough to have made Sirra laugh every time. She made them a version of coffee – similar beans from similar plants – and they sat discussing more neuropsychology than anything else. Donatello was keen to learn more about cognitive processing ever since Michelangelo first came out of the coma. His helplessness at being an actual doctor still showed in how his hands and voice shook. He wound up telling Sirra everything about their lives, their family, their city, their enemies. The choices he had been forced to make and the choices he had been forced to abandon. Sirra immediately sat him in a chair and gave a lecture, a class, really, on field surgery and how to use engineering and mechanical knowledge to be a rescue medic. Naturally, the best part was when she filled a large backpack with familiar emergency medical equipment and long term intensive care equipment, "For when you are able to return to Earth, for your infirmary. Gods know shinobi like you will need such things." Donnie flung himself at her in an awkward but happy hug, then apologized.

"Oh, this can't be about your April!" Sirra teased.

"She's not my April! I mean… we're not together… I mean… she doesn't like me back." Donatello rubbed the back of his head. "And I know why. It's unrequited and I understand."

Sirra smiled in sympathy. "The same thing happened with my friend Jarran, when we were young. A few years ago, in fact, when we were your age."

Don glanced up in interest.

"I was in April's position. We were best friends. Jarran couldn't help the way he felt. We both knew it. It took a very long time, but we learned to become even deeper in our friendship."

"So, did Jarren's infatuation ever go away?"

Her smile became painful. "I suppose. He was killed defending Tirren from a gang."

"Oh. Oh, kami, Sirra, I am so sorry…"

"SIRRA! Sirra, help!" came an anguished, panicked scream. The two bolted out of the workshop and ran into Leonardo and Donatello.

"What the hell…" Raphael drew his sai. Sirra held out her arm. "No. Tirren is afraid, but it's not an attack." She paused, eyes closed. She gasped and rushed back into her lab. "It's Michelangelo. Something's wrong!"

She grabbed the backpack she had made for the turtles and led them to the playroom around the corner. Donatello cried out and rushed forward until Sirra grabbed his forearm and held him back. "Wait. I need space!"

Tirren was sobbing, kneeling over an unconscious Michelangelo, his hands pressed to an unmoving plastron. "He… we were playing the hologram game and then we were playing with all my toys, and all of a sudden he was shaking, and he said he didn't feel good, and he just fell over. His fingertips are kind of blue. He's not breathing right, Sirra."

"This just happened?"

"Yes, I called you as soon as he fell."

"Good." Sirra had already taken several things from the bag; she attached an oxygen mask and IV, then placed her hand on Mikey's forehead, muttered a growl, and got her portable scanner.

Tirren backed up and stared up at the other turtles. They glanced at each other. Raphael was struggling to stay where he was. Leonardo was unconsciously clenching his fists around invisible swords. Donatello still had his hands out, eyes wide.

Sirra began growling in a language the turtles couldn't translate, then looked at her brother. "You did not hear me say those words and you are too young to use them."

Tirren just nodded, gulping.

Finally, Donnie broke free and crouched next to her. "What is it? Sirra, I need to know what is wrong with my brother."

Taking a deep breath, Sirra closed her eyes, pinched the skin between her eyes, and looked at him with deep compassion in her eyes. "He is very cold, but I cannot find the source, and he is slipping into hypothermia. His oxygen intake is very poor; we're lucky he responded to the mask at all. Tirren? Did he use telekinesis in any big way during your games?"

Tirren nodded, mouth trembling. "He was levitating my toys around the room and making them dance."

"Damn it," Leonardo muttered.

Sirra glanced at him. "Yes, but how would that cause such a severe drop in body temperature? Is cold a trigger?"

"We…don't know his triggers, other than the telekinesis," said Leonardo. "But his subconscious self told us that they were happening when he reached for a very specific part of the psionic network that is still damaged. I'd assume he wouldn't have done that."

Donatello was gently prodding his brother's skin, wincing visibly. "We need to get him warm, fast. Then we can worry about what caused it."

Sirra told Tirren to get all the heat lamps in the house, the heating pads, and the thickest blankets. Leo went with him. Tirren casually slipped his hand into Leo's and squeezed it.

"We have a lot of things to keep us warm," the boy said, as if trying to make conversation.

"That's a really good thing," Leonardo said just as casually. He took a few deep breaths, but he knew the child saw it. Tirren was unnervingly observant. As they gathered lamps and blankets and heating pads, Leo felt his hands shake. Something pressed against his mind, very gently, like a soft hug. He blinked when he noticed the shaking had stopped.

"Is it better?" Tirren asked quietly. "I only wanted to make your hands calm down."

Leo felt himself break into a smile. "Thank you, Tirren. It's better."

In the playroom, they arranged everything quickly. Michelangelo was panting despite the oxygen therapy. As Leonardo carefully slid a heating pad under his neck, dull baby blue eyes opened and managed to focus on him. "Leo…you're…you're okay…?"

He frowned. "Of course, Mikey. I'm fine. Everything's okay. Can you tell me what happened?"

But Mike's eyes had slid shut and the muscles in his neck tensed. Leo held his hand against the back of his head, frowning. "Could he be dreaming?"

"Not likely," Donnie said, adjusting the heaviest blanket. "Not if he just lost consciousness abruptly. Unless…" He froze, eyes growing wide.

"Donnie?" Raph waved a hand in his face. "Don! What is it?"

Donatello shook himself and stared at his little brother's face, which was scrunching up in pain. "Guys? When he talked about his nightmares, did he ever mention visions?"

There was a sharp intake of breath from Sirra. Leo and Raph looked puzzled. "Visions?" Leo asked. "Like, in meditation?"

"No. I mean, visions. Psychic visions. Clairvoyance. Precognition. Remote viewing. The…the way April does, but stronger."

"Oh." Leo stared down and smoothed a hand over Michelangelo's forehead. "Oh! He's talked about seeing things. I just assumed they were…oh, shit, Donnie, what if this was a psychic vision?"

"I haven't heard of this!" Raph said. "He would've said somethin' to me!"

"He may not have realized," Leo said kindly.

Raph stood there, hands hanging at his sides, looking lost. Tirren came to him and very carefully took one of his hands. Raphael blinked at him. Tirren just smiled. A soft expression flickered across Raph's face, and then he slowly nodded, eyes hooded.

"Tirren," Sirra said, "you know you're supposed to ask permission before using empathic therapy on an off-worlder."

Tirren just looked at his sister, determined. "They need it."

Michelangelo began to moan and twist under Leo's hands. "Donnie," Leo said, "should I get some warm damp cloths?"

Don nodded. "Yeah, that'll help. Sirra, how's his temperature?"

Checking her scanner, Sirra's mouth twisted slightly. "Unchanged. I'm unhappy with his brainwave pattern. He's deeply in theta, but there are small fluctuations toward alpha and long dips into delta. I'd say your theory about psychic visions is correct. He may still be experiencing a psychic experience. And from what I know about M'Kari neurochemistry, there isn't much difference between psychic episodes and partial seizures. The hypothermia, however, is utterly inexplicable. Beyond your cold-bloodedness, I have no idea why his homeostasis would be so specifically affected."

Leonardo returned with warm washcloths and handed one to Raph and one to Don. He settled back in his position at his baby brother's head and began wiping the cloth across his forehead and cheeks. Donatello motioned for Raphael to work on his feet and lower legs under the blankets.

Raphael grasped his brother's right ankle and flinched at the deep chill, like an ice kiss. He could feel the warmth from the larger heat pad beneath the thighs, and rubbed the cloth up and down quickly before wrapping it briefly around Mikey's foot, squeezing a little. He watched Donnie do the same with Mikey's left foot and bit his lip. Visions, then. Why wasn't he looking out for that? Of course Mikey would start having actual visions! What if those nightmares he'd been having…? He wasn't just telepathic or telepathic. And… he had called out for Leo. His vision must have been about Leo getting hurt, right? No. Raph clenched his teeth. He wouldn't let that happen. He looked up at his oldest brother, whose face was both serene and concerned, and growled his name. Leo blinked at him, frowning.

"He called your name," and Raph couldn't help the rasping frustration.

Leonardo just nodded. "Let's hope it wasn't a premonition." He began sliding the cloth to Mikey's neck, just as the seizure began, and suddenly both Sirra and Tirren had their hands on a twitching plastron…

He had adjusted his space suit and was about to jump to a larger rock when he heard Leonardo yell. It was a warning cry; fall back, more of those creatures are coming! He immediately twisted mid-air and grabbed his kagurisama, racing back toward the sound of a battle beginning. Damn it, why now? It was just the two of them here; Raph and Donnie were at least a mile away, exploring the planet, and hadn't heard the call.

Leonardo was gracefully holding his own against just over a dozen goblin-like aliens, katana blades shining and slicing as he danced toward Michelangelo. Without looking, he yelled, "Mikey, more are coming from the rocks behind you!"

Damn it, damn it, damn it! He leaped into the fray and an instinctive "Booyakasha!" tore from his throat, drawing their attention, turning at least some of them away from his brother. The aliens, half his size with arms twice as long, were gaining quickly, and their teeth and their claws were sharp like needles. They were making chittering sounds, long and song-like. Oh, fuck this!

He reached his brother and stood shell to shell; "Dude, did you call the others?"

"They're on their way. Just keep going!"

"There's too many!"

"Mikey, you can do this! Just hit them hard and don't look back!"

He dove into the small, hard bodies and began spinning his nunchaku as hard as he could, not counting or caring how many he took down. If he could just keep them off Leo, that was all that mattered. Sweat formed on his face; he started to feel oddly cold. A shout came in the distance. Raph and Don! They were flying toward the rock formations, and upon landing hit at least half a dozen; Mikey grinned with renewed exuberance and smashed down two more.

And then the scream.

He paused, ice starting to form in his veins. That was Leo. Leo had screamed.

Leo!

Mike ran, swinging, hitting, making a clearing; there was his brother! The leader was down, on his side, and Mikey's heart pounded – he had already failed, Leo was down!

He hurled himself on top of his brother, ready to drag him away. Quickly, he scanned him. There, a slice on his left outer thigh near his hip, blood pooling. "Shit shit shit," Mike muttered, yanking off a wrist pad and pressing it to the wound. "Leo, you okay, can you hear me?"

"I'm okay," Leo gasped, and the determination and defiance in his voice make Mike breathe a sigh of relief. The aliens had claws longer than his fingers!

"It's bleeding pretty bad, dude. Hang on, I need to get you away from here." And without thinking, Mikey scooped up Leo bridal style, his leader protesting, and he ran toward a darker corner near a pile of rocks, where the bizarre wind howled colder. Scraps of discarded cloth lay around, and he used them to create a make-shift bandage. He could hear Donatello yelling his name, yelling Leo's name, but he was too busy focused on the bandage. Sweat beaded his brow, his hands were suddenly freezing. Only when he heard Leonardo say his name, softly, did he look up.

"Mikey," Leo was saying, and had reached out to cup the back of his head, as though it were Mikey injured instead, and the blood was spreading like ink across the cloth, and Mike was so cold, and…

"Mikey? Mikey, hey… open your eyes. It's okay. I'm here, baby bro. Wake up."

He struggled. The strange planet was gone, the rocks, the goblin creatures… and Leo was talking to him. Leo sounded okay. Leo was…telling him to wake up?

A warm, deliciously warm cloth was against his neck, his cheek. He moaned and leaned into it; he felt so cold. Heat was pouring down on him and wrapped around him and he basked and bathed; he was lying on top of heat and heat was lying on top of him. He just wanted to fall into the wonderful bliss of it.

"Mikey, please, you have to wake up! It's been too long. You're scaring us!" Leo again, sounding worried. No. He didn't want to worry Leo. Heat be damned. His eyelids felt so heavy. He moaned again and reached out his arms; his hands were grasped, and he knew one was Raph and one was Donnie. Another hand suddenly pressed against his plastron, this one vaguely familiar. Scaly. A feminine voice was saying "…can remove some of the heat lamps and blankets now." Wait. Sirra!

Very slowly, the world came together. There was a hissing noise and several mechanical beeping sounds; oh, those were familiar. He felt something lying on his face. Air was pushing into his mouth. Yup. Oxygen mask. Oh gods, what had happened? He had been…playing with Tirren. He had been making the toys dance. Tirren had been laughing. And then, a flash of…something. Something loud and harsh. In his head. Like an electric scream full of pressure, about to burst. Something that felt like a muscle inside his brain had strained, stretched, wrenched, twisted. Something that felt like a gateway in his brain had flung wide open and cold had rushed in like an army, cold everywhere, cold piercing him like knives. And, like a movie screen, a different world had blinked into his sight. And he had been so cold.

He managed to drag his eyelids up juust enough to hear a gasp from his oldest brother. "He's waking up! Mikey! Mikey, come on, you can do it. Please. Please!"

Anything for you, Leo. Anything as long as you're okay.

He felt like a very heavy thawing block of ice. He managed to open his eyes all the way, and the first thing he saw was Sirra, both hands on his chest. She was staring at his eyes. And as he stared back, he could feel power flowing from her. It was startlingly strong and it reminded him of when he would soothe Raphael with a touch and a tender flow of empathic energy. This, though, this was both empathic and telekinetic… no, not quite telekinesis. Healing. Healing power.

He was lying on a bed. Blankets were wrapped around him. Wait, not quite a bed. He was in Sirra's lab workshop area again. The pillows were comfortable.

"Oh thank gods, Mikey!" that was Donnie squeezing his hand and leaning closer. "Can you hear me? How are you feeling?"

Michelangelo opened his mouth a little and tried to speak –- even his voice felt cold and heavy. Something wasn't working right. He couldn't make the right connections between his brain and his voice. He wanted to say that was okay, that he was warm and comfortable. All that came out was, "w-w-rm…kay…co'fy…" and he knotted his brow in pure frustration.

He watched poor Donnie's eyes go terribly wide and he felt fear radiating off him so strongly it hurt. Why fear? He was okay! Why afraid, Donnie? He wanted to lift his head and ask if Donnie was all right but it was too hard to move, and his words still didn't feel right. He growled low in his throat and tried again.

"Kay…Dee…ishaaa…" Damn it! He felt tears in his eyes. What was happening to his words?

"Shhh, Michelangelo," Sirra was purring. "It's all right. Don't try to speak until you're ready. What you are experiencing is a type of transient expressive aphasia. Between your seizure and psychic vision, your brain is having too much trouble connecting to what you want to say. Your language centers were affected. It will pass. Can you use thoughts to communicate?" When he nodded, she said, "All right, good. Tirren and I can hear strong projected thoughts, and I understand your family has gotten good at hearing your projected telepathy."

Mikey smiled, and then frowned when his brothers exchanged frightened glances.

"Wait," Donatello was saying, "you're not saying this was a TIA, are you?"

"A what?" asked Raph, sharply.

Sirra sighed and smiled the comforting smile of a nurse. "Transient ischemic attack. It's a brain event similar to a small stroke. It can happen when there's not enough blood flow and oxygen to the brain, which is probably what happened here. I still can't explain the incredible drop in temperature. But the seizure may have pushed something over the edge. It's also possible that his psionic center accidentally activated something else that tripped off yet something else, causing a sort of cascade or domino effect." She shook her head, laughing a little. "This is very fascinating, really. It would be honestly impossible to explain everything happening now that he's got an M'Kari psionic center!"

Raphael stood up and hissed. "That doesn't make me happy, y'know. Always wondering if my little brother's brain is gonna up and kill him one day."

"Raph, easy, I really don't think that will happen," Donatello said. "Look, from what Neural Mike said, the whole psionic center needs to be completely stable, and that there will be some… glitches. So to speak. Hopefully not as, um, severe as this, but…" He groaned, resting his head on the bed.

Mikey was terribly worried now. He lifted his heavy head as much as it would let him, and asked, "H'w lon'…was I…ouut?"

Sirra smiled at him again. "Two days."

Two days? Days? But…no! Shit, Raph must have lost his mind! He must have whimpered, because Leo stroked the side of his face, and Sirra bit her lip. "You're all right," she said, "I was able to stabilize you completely, no permanent damage. You should honestly be fine in a few hours." She patted his plastron. "Calm down, Mikey." And again, that empathic healing flow surged from her.

Donatello looked exhausted. "I'm gonna find something for him to drink." As he got up, a high-pitched voice said, "I got it!" and there was Tirren, holding a bottle of liquid to his mouth. Mikey drank it slowly; it tasted like limes. Tirren touched his plastron and another, gentler flow of energy moved over him. He managed a smile. Can you heal like your sister?

Tirren grinned. "Not quite, but my sister says I'm really good at calming the nervous system!"

"Wait, I heard that," Leonardo said. "I heard you, Mikey."

He rolled up his eyes at his brother. Well, I'd hope so. You've been teaching me!

"Oh. Yeah." There was nervous laughter all around, and at least Raphael looked more at ease.

I'm okay, dudes, I swear! I just need to heal a little. This was met with skepticism and mutters of "you can't even talk right now!"

But I will soon. I can already feel it. Look, I know it's scary. It's gonna be scary! But, okay, I can feel my own brain. I can feel what it's doing deep down. It's gonna recover. I'll heal up enough so that this brain damage stuff probably won't happen again.

"And the psychic visions?" Donatello noted. Mikey realized none of them had asked him about it, and he felt relieved.

They'll still happen, I bet. But I don't think my brain will go apeshit. I don't know what this was, but I know it's not going to keep happening.

Raphael smirked. "And all of a sudden you just know your own head that well, do ya."

Mikey scowled. You try having a whole construction crew in your head while you're using it!

"Good metaphor," Leo said. Mikey just grinned at him. Really, though. He was going to be fine. He knew it in his bones. His weirdly new, altered, psychic bones that were currently cuddled in warmth and family. He could handle two Alchemists and a hundred alien goblins with that strength. He laughed. He couldn't quite laugh with his voice, so he made sure they could all hear him anyway.