Donny could only stand, rigid as if his feet had grown roots, as he stared at the letter trembling like moth's wings in his shaking hands. April and Casey were huddled together, his strong arms over her narrow shoulders and both of the humans looked lost and helpless. Raphael was silent and glaring at the closed door where Splinter had swept Leo away.
Normally, the terrible moment would have been broken by Mikey's goofy empathy, a bad joke, that bright, forgiving laughter.
But Mikey's gone now.
The thought rippled through Don's brain like a sledge hammer for the hundredth time. Wearily, he scrubbed his temples, trying to massage away the dull ache that had taken refuge for three days now behind his eyes. Donny was honestly too numb, too scraped raw, too drained to feel, to make sense of any of this. Dumbly, he stared down at Mikey's corpse again, scowling at the withered lips, the wan skin, and the serene face that revealed nothing of the violent ending.
Three days ago, I stitched up Mikey's head, held him down during the convulsions. Three days ago, he was alive and breathing and we were four, not three. Four days ago, we were all eating pizza together and laughing. These are simple calculations. Four became three. That's what happened. It shouldn't be this hard to understand.
Donny winced as the pain in his head sharpened to a spike. He always got headaches when he was stressed, had too little sleep, or was going through some emotional turmoil. The last few days had been flooded with all three. He stared at the letter in his hand, ran a loving thumb over it, and reverently sat it down.
I can't read this.
The small curl of resolve was comforting, tethering in the flood of emotions he could not analyze and the agony he could not even voice. Mercifully, Raphael grunted behind, giving him a wonderfully perverse distraction before his tears started trickling.
Turning to Raph, Don stared and pondered.
At first, I thought that we were broken because of Mikey's dying, but now, it's as if the universe itself is fracturing beneath us. What in the hell happened to us? I'm the angry one, Leo's helpless. And Raph….
Don swallowed hard.
Thank God Raph is still pissed off, and bitter and angry. Thank God that there's something that makes some sense. Something that's unchanged and familiar, even if's only Raph's temper that's left.
Donny had never thought that Raph's anger issues would ever have any redeeming quality, but now, he was almost grateful.
Almost as if reading his thoughts, Raphael tensed under the weight of Don's open gaze, and met his eyes with a curt nod. Shrugging, he crossed his arms over his plastron and gave the door another glare.
"You gonna read Mikey's letter?" Raphael tossed the words over his shoulder, and did not turn to face Don.
Donny bit his lip and shook his head. "No." He breathed out. "No. I can't. Not yet."
"Why not?" Casey blurted out from his corner, startling both Turtles. The regret flickered over his features even as Raph tensed and turned to him with dangerously narrowed eyes.
"These are Mikey's last words to me. After this….." Donny helplessly flung up a hand. What in the hell did come after that?
Don's sigh was heavy as he continued, quietly. "After this, there's nothing. No more words, no more moments, nothing but memories. I can't-" He choked, and continued, "I can't face that. Not yet."
To Donny's shock, Raph very gently folded Don's fingers over the letter, and clasped Don's hands between his own.
"Then don't read it. Mikey wrote to you, Don. It's your letter. If ya can't read it, then ya can't."
Raph gave him a sad, understanding smirk, before letting him go.
Don could only stare at his brother's shell, both touched and bewildered. Of course, Raph cared for his brothers, and loved them. But when the hell did Raph get such …kindness? Was this a trait long buried under his grunts and snarls, or was this another change triggered by Mikey's loss?
Don sighed again. The world he knew-with four living brothers-was too shattered to return, or rebuild. He couldn't go back. It was as gone as Mikey was.
He ran a finger over the envelope, letting it linger over Mikey's neat penmanship. Very gently, he pulled out the papers, and unfolded them, smoothing them out at the creases and staring at the looping swirls of Mikey's writing. It was strange, and shameful for Leo, but out of the four of them, Mikey had always had the "prettiest" hand-writing. Raph usually wrote in block letters, and used quick words, because he had little patience for writing. Leo wrote slow, precise cursive in even lines. His penmanship was always legible. Anything penned by Don was erratically scrawled, and barely passable as language. Nobody could read anything that Don wrote, simply because Don scribbled out his ideas as quickly he thought of them, and did not care if anybody else could read it. Even when he forced himself to slow down, his own handwriting was disjointed and rather sloppy. He glanced through Mikey's handwriting, but set it down.
"I think that everybody should hear it." Don said softly.
Raph shrugged. "However ya want it, Donny. You know that."
Don squinted at him, curiously. Normally, Raph would have snarled, picked a fight, something. And now, he did nothing but keep a troubled vigil over Mikey's corpse and sending those worried glares to the door.
"What the hell happens when we go home without him, Don?" Raph's question was raw and quiet.
"I don't know." Donny shrugged, helplessly. "I mean, Mikey would want us to carry on, live our lives. In some way, Mikey will always be with-"
Raph flinched and whirled, growling, "Don't say that."
Donny winced, bewildered by the outburst. "Don't say what?"
Raph snarled. "That crap about Mikey being in a better place, or resting or looking down from the clouds, or being at peace! I hate that crap!"
From her corner, April exhaled so quickly that she nearly hissed. "What do you mean by that, Raph? You really think that your brother isn't in a better place now?"
Donny blanched as Raphael rounded on her, furious and wounded. "Mikey should be here, damn it! He should be alive! How in the hell could there be a better place if it ain't with his family?! Ya really think it's a good thing for him to be dead? That it's somehow better for him to die and leave us than it is for him to live and stay here? You think he's in heaven?! Come off it. We ain't nothing but turtles. We don't have souls or an afterlife, or anything better than what we got now."
April paled, as she weakly asked, "You really believe that, Raph? That once you die, that's it?"
"What makes you think you don't have souls?" Casey barked out. "You really think you just rot in the ground when you're done down here? That there's nothin' past that?"
Raph snarled out, softly, "Mikey's dead, and he ain't coming back. That's all I know."
Donny tensed at the brewing theological argument. Of course, his brothers had all had speculations about what happened when they died. Splinter had given them the rudiment teachings of what he remembered from Japan, and some ideas from religious tracts that had been swept down the sewer. Mainly, though, the old rat emphasized living with honor, and combating the fear of death by leaving nothing unfinished. He let each of them pursue their own spirituality, as long as they respected the beliefs of their brothers.
Of course, it had always been an issue. With the lives they lived, and the risks they took, there was always the chance that one of them wouldn't make it home. It was also a reality they all ignored to stay sane. None of them had ever, ever expected to bury Mikey. But, Donny loathed the idea that all that was left of any of them was a fleeting memory and a decaying body that was slowly reclaimed by the earth.
"We have souls." Don said quietly.
Raph shook his head, and raised tired eyes to Don. His voice was almost subdued. "How do you know that, Brainiac?"
"How do you know that we don't?" Donny regarded Raph with narrowed eyes, as he gave Mikey's body another glance. He never thought that an argument with Raph would be such a gift, but he'd take any sort of distraction over the piece of paper that had his brother's last words.
"Raph, we're here in the first place." Don whispered. "I mean, think about it, Raph. That can of ooze could have missed any one of us. These sort of mutations, the amount of changes we went through physically, not to mention our intelligence level? I know you don't see it that way, Raph, but the gift of an intellect is exceedingly rare for life forms. What we went through should have killed us, but it didn't. It gave us a family. That ooze gave us each other, and I'm grateful for it, even if it means going through this now. The odds of all of these events being random are too astronomically high to simply be left to chance. Somebody put a lot of effort into making sure we came into existence. It makes no sense to me to believe that we just end after all of that."
Raphael squinted at that, and did not hide his scowl of disagreement. Here they were, burying their baby brother, and Donny was trying to make it sound as if they were all somehow lucky for that damn can of ooze.
Raph sighed. Sure, it was a hell of a lot more comforting to envision Mikey healed and whole, and waiting for them, in a heavenly paradise. It was much better than surrendering Mikey's body to the dirt.
Shaking his head, he stared at them all, seeing April and Casey still huddled together, and Don's nervous figiting. Brainiac always did that when he didn't know else to do. Made sense. He couldn't fix Mikey.
"I need some air. Get me when Master Splinter comes out with Leo, will ya?"
After waiting for Don's nod, Raphael walked out, not bothering to stop the screen door from slamming behind him.