Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed last chapter. I was blown away by the overwhelming response! I appreciate each and every one of you more than I can say! You totally keep me motivated.


The chaos caused by the gang war down in the Bronx was all over the morning news.

The police had cordoned off the area until full order could be restored and their investigations completed, but that of course didn't stop the reporters and their camera crews. Almost every local channel was plastered with the words "Breaking News," and featured pictures of burned out buildings, smashed store fronts, glass littered streets, and vandalized cars and buildings. It looked like coverage straight from a war zone, and the cameras caught the look of shock on the faces of the emerging residents as they struggled to comprehend the violence that had erupted right on their front steps.

Early casualty reports varied widely as each news station reported whatever information was passed along to them, giving little regard to the reliability of the source, nor taking the time to sort fact from fiction. All that seemed absolutely sure was that there had been injuries, and there had been deaths, and the police had made dozens of arrests already, with more expected as the day progressed. News anchors speculated on the cause and motives behind the eruption of violence, while the police chief and city mayor attended early morning press conferences to try to ensure the city they had everything under control.

Casey Jones had seen and heard it all before. After all, he had lived in this city since he was a kid, and while gang wars were thankfully rare, they were still an inescapable aspect of life in the Big Apple. The news would focus on it almost exclusively over the next couple of days before finding something else more interesting to report on. In a week or two it would be all but forgotten by most of the city's residents. Only those most closely affected would continue to remember, carrying the mental and physical scars with them in silent testimony.

Lifting the remote, Casey muted the TV in the middle of the mayor's speech thanking and praising New York's officers for their role in curtailing the violence. Leaning his head against the back of the couch, he rolled his neck until he was staring at the silent doorway leading into the lab. His friends were gathered in there, tired and hurting, four unappreciated lives that would never be added to the official casualty report. The city would never know what the four teenagers had done for it. There would be no speeches thanking them for their bravery and sacrifice. There would be no special news reports highlighting their acts of heroism. There would be no top notch medical care offered to heal their bodies and minds.

Casey didn't usually allow himself to dwell too much on the unfairness of the world, but right now he couldn't help the bitterness swelling in his chest. He knew the guys had never asked for recognition. They did what they did and they never complained about the lack of thanks. But that didn't make it any easier to swallow, especially when their involvement kept taking more and more away from them. What made it worse was that he was the one who had called Raphael last night. He was the one who had involved them in this whole mess in the first place, and now they were in very real danger of losing one of their own. Again.

If Fate had a physical form, Casey would have been the first in line to kick its ass.

Pulling in a deep lungful of air, he released it on a gusty sigh, then began to push himself to his feet, ignoring the aches of his tired and abused body. He'd been steering clear of the med lab to give the guys some room, but supposed a quick peak around the doorjamb to check in on them wouldn't hurt anything. He didn't like how quiet everything was.

He had taken a single step from the couch when April appeared in the doorway, her hair mussed and her eyes ringed red with exhaustion. She didn't even seem to notice him standing a few yards in front of her as she turned and made a beeline for the kitchen, muttering softly under her breath. Casey altered his course to follow her, stepping into the kitchen to find her riffling through doors and cabinets in a hurried, if somewhat distracted, manner.

"Can I help?"

April started at his soft question, turning to look over one shoulder at him even as she began to pull dishtowels from the drawer in front of her. "Hey," she greeted, offering him a tired smile, "I didn't know you were up."

Casey shrugged, then winced as the movement pulled at his bruised shoulder. "Been awake for a while now," he admitted, before asking softly, "How are the guys?"

A shadow fell across April's face, and she quickly turned away. "About as can be expected, I suppose," she answered, her voice soft and weighted with worry. "Leo's fever is getting worse. Donnie's got him on the strongest antibiotic he has, but so far it doesn't seem to be helping much."

Casey felt his stomach sink, but he forced his voice neutral as he replied, "Sometimes it just takes time for the drugs to kick in." It sounded lame and desperate even to his own ears, but he wanted to offer something to take the hopelessness from April's voice.

She sighed, moving over to the freezer and pulling out several ice packs and tucking them into the bundle of towels she already carried in her hand. "I guess," she answered tiredly. "Until then, we'll just have to try and keep the fever down the old fashioned way." She brandished the pile in her arms.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Casey asked, walking with her from the kitchen and back toward the lab.

April frowned, seeming to honestly consider the question before slowly shaking her head. "I don't think so. It's just a waiting game right now. But you can come in and see everyone if you like."

Casey followed her a step into the room, his eyes immediately drawn to the bed in the far corner and the four shapes surrounding it. Once again the unnatural quiet of the place hit him, and his stomach did an odd little twist. He'd experienced this quiet before…in a tiny hospital room on the far end of town the day he had sat beside his mother's bed as she drew her final breaths. It was a moment forever burned into his mind, the pain dulled by the years but still very much present, and he found himself pulling up short, suddenly unwilling to go any farther.

"I think I'll just wait out in the living room," he whispered, his eyes still glued to the scene across the med lab. "If you need me, just give me a call." It was a coward's move, but he knew he wouldn't be able to do anything even if he stayed. It was after that he would be most needed. No matter what happened.

April paused, regarding him with understanding eyes before stepping back to his side and rising up on tip toes to kiss his cheek. "I will," she promised, before turning and hurrying with her bundle over to the bed.

Casey backed out of the lab, then returned to the couch, slumping down on the cushions with a small grunt. He didn't bother un-muting the TV, but continued to let it play on silently. He barely saw the pictures, his mind's eye too full of the mental image of the med lab, and his extended family sitting silently as death hung heavy in the air around them.

With a low moan Casey let his head drop into his hands and did something he had not done in a very long time; he prayed.


Mikey hated the med lab.

In general he loved their home, despite it being located deep in the bowels of the earth. When he thought of the lair, he thought of warmth, of family, of safety. Each room in their home held a special meaning and special memories for him, most of them good.

The med lab was the one exception to that. This was where they always came when they were sick, hurt, and bleeding, and the memories associated with that weren't so great. He'd watched a TV show once where the main character had hated hospitals with extreme prejudice. Though not quite as dramatic, Mikey had compared those feeling with his own distaste of the med lab, and he avoided the room whenever possible.

But here he was now, his own aches and pains all but forgotten as he stared down at a brother struggling to hold onto life. He felt like he was in some sort of trance, in one way completely aware of everything going on around him, but at the same time distanced from it all, like his brain simply refused to fully engage. It was probably some kind of unintentional defense mechanism he had thrown up in his own mind, because he was pretty sure if he took the time to think about everything, he would completely lose it.

Leo shifted on the bed, letting out a soft moan, his head tossing restlessly across the pillow, and Mikey had to consciously loosen the tight hold he held around his brother's hand. Leo muttered something incomprehensible, his eyes rolling wildly beneath his lids, his mind obviously trapped somewhere unpleasant.

A fever dream. That's what Donnie had called it. Mikey didn't care what its name was, he just wanted Leo to wake up. But this wasn't like other dreams. Leo wasn't just asleep, he was unconscious, and no amount of calling his name or shaking his shoulders would pull him from whatever terror his subconscious was forcing on him.

"No!" Leo suddenly cried, his whole body arching up from the bed. Mikey quickly leaned forward to help hold his brother down while Raph did the same on the other side, their grip strong yet gentle, mindful of Leo's injuries. Their brother had already torn the stitches in one arm earlier by thrashing around, and now they were all careful to keep him as immobilized as possible when he grew too restless. Splinter bent down and began to smooth one furry paw across Leo's brow, murmuring softly in Japanese in an attempt to soothe Leo back into a more restful state.

It was a scene that had replayed itself over and over again within the last several hours, ever since Leo's temperature had skyrocketed and he had begun to toss fretfully. Donnie had done everything he could with his limited medical supplies, and now they could only sit around Leo's bed and watch and wait, trying to keep him as calm as possible so he wouldn't injure himself further. Listening to his big brother's harsh breathing and unintelligible mutterings, Mikey couldn't help but think he had somehow fallen asleep and gotten trapped in his own nightmare. One that he couldn't seem to wake up from, no matter how badly he wanted to.

The machine monitoring his brother's vitals kept flashing numbers, but Mikey barely paid it any attention. He didn't really understand what the numbers meant anyway, but judging by the way Donnie and April kept glancing at the machine and frowning, he knew it couldn't be anything good.

"Please…"Leo suddenly whispered, the word coming out clear but strained, a desperate edge to his tone.

Mikey's gaze snapped to Leo's face, half thinking his brother might finally be awake, but Leo's eyes were still firmly shut, his head still rocking back and forth in the throes of the fever dream.

"Please," he repeated again, this time whisper soft and barely audible. "…don't leave me."

Across the bed, Raph jerked as though struck, and beside him Donnie made a small noise in the back of his throat, a cross between a gasp and a sob. The mental barrier in Mikey's brain crumbled, and he gripped Leo's hand so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"It's just the fever talking, guys," April whispered from her spot at the foot of the bed, the shakiness in her voice belying her efforts at sounding calm. "It's just a dream."

No one answered. There was nothing to say. Whatever horror Leo was reliving might just be a dream, but that didn't mean it hadn't really happened. That didn't make it any less real, or Leo's pleas any easier to listen to. It didn't erase the dead look that had crept into Raph's eyes, or the hopelessness that bowed Donnie's shoulders. It didn't ease the guilt and desperation slowly creeping over Mikey. As hard as he tried not to think about it, he couldn't silence the little voice in the back of his head that reminded him over and over again that twice now Leo had acted to protect him, and had faced death as a result. He knew there was nothing he could have done to change the situation, and that acting the hero was just a part of who Leo was, but that didn't help him to feel any better. It didn't make him feel any less responsible.

As the morning wore on, Leo's ramblings died away to barely audible mutterings, his restless thrashing giving way to only the occasional twitch. Mikey wanted to believe it was due to his brother finally getting some real rest, but suspected it had more to do with Leo's body weakening to the point it could no longer sustain the more aggressive movement. It was a grim observation that left a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach. He was suddenly glad he was gripping his brother's hand so tightly, otherwise he might have given in to his sudden wild desire to turn and bolt from the room and not look back. To escape into the sewers and just start running and never, ever stop.

It wasn't the first time he had felt this urge.

Against his will his thoughts turned back to those first horrible days all those months ago when their family had thought Leo dead. Mikey had been caught in an uncharacteristic depression that had almost torn him apart from the inside out. He had fought the urge to run then, too, and only the weakness caused by his head injury had stopped him. Instead he had locked himself up in his room for several long weeks, lying on his bed and counting his breaths as a way to keep his mind distracted from unwanted thoughts.

He still wasn't entirely sure how he had managed to pull through that dark time. His family had helped, despite being trapped in their own grief…but even with their presence and support, Mikey had struggled to pull himself free from the suffocating sadness and depression that continually tried to pull him under. Things had gotten a little easier with the passage of time, but every new morning Mikey had been forced to fight back the pain and grief all over again.

Now, with the very real threat of losing Leo hanging over all of them once more, Mikey couldn't help but doubt his ability to survive going through all that a second time. He could barely even comprehend it. He'd always known that Fate was an uncaring mistress, but bringing his brother back from the proverbial grave, only to snatch him away again, was a cruelty he couldn't even begin to fathom. The world shouldn't work that way. His father was always talking about karma; do good things, and good will happen to you. Well, if that was truly the case, than Leo shouldn't be in this hated room right now. He shouldn't be fighting for his life. It just wasn't fair.

"Leo?"

Raph's soft voice pulled Mikey from his dark thoughts. He glanced over to find his red banded brother staring intently down at the bed. Mikey followed his gaze, his heart picking up speed when he saw Leo obviously struggling to open his eyes. As one, they all leaned forward, hovering over the bed as they waited anxiously to see if their brother would win the fight for consciousness.

"Come on, Leo," Donnie murmured, his gaze flickering back and forth between Leo's face and the machine monitoring his vitals. "You can do it."

"My son," Splinter murmured, one hand still resting lightly across Leo's forehead. "We are here with you."

Mikey wanted to add his own encouragement, but his throat was suddenly too tight. If Leo really was struggling to wake up, that had to be a good sign, right? It had to mean his brother was doing better? Maybe they weren't going to lose him after all. His heart wanted to soar at the thought, but a niggling sense of doubt continued to weigh him down. Leo still looked so incredibly weak and drawn, struggling simply to open his eyes, and Mikey knew it would take more than just wishful thinking to bring his brother back from the edge he was currently teetering on.

After what seemed like ages to his anxiously waiting family, Leo's eyelids finally peeled part way open, revealing the barest slit of navy blue. A second later their ill brother drew in a deep and shuddering breath, his eyes opening slightly further, his gaze somewhat glassy from fever, but otherwise alert and aware as he slowly looked up at all of them.

"Hey there," Raph was the first to greet him, his voice uncharacteristically soft and gentle. Mikey found his own voice blending in with Donnie, Sensei, and April as they all called out their own soft greetings.

Leo blinked slowly, his throat working as though he were trying to speak, but no words coming out. His eyes were still heavy lidded, and it looked like it was taking a monumental effort just to keep them open at all.

"Easy," Donnie soothed. "Just relax Leo. You don't need to talk right now." His eyes continued to flick back and forth between Leo's face and the monitoring equipment in a way that was beginning to drive Mikey crazy. "We're just glad to see you awake."

In response Leo's eyes drifted closed again, then just as quickly darted back open, his breathing quickening. Once more his gaze flickered to each of their faces, and Mikey got the distinct impression that his brother had something he wanted to say. His suspicions were proved correct a moment later when Leo gathered enough strength to rasp out a weak, "Need…to tell…"

He never finished his sentence, and Mikey was caught between the desire to back Donnie up and urge him to keep quiet and reserve his strength, and the need to hear him keep talking. It was painful to watch how hard it was for him to simply speak, but at the same time as long as he was awake and trying to communicate with them, he wasn't unconscious and drifting further and further away.

Across the bed Donnie and Raph exchanged a quick look, before Raph reached out a hand and gripped Leo's shoulder tightly. "It's okay," he stated softly. "If you'd like, I can tell them for you?"

Mikey frowned, not sure what Raph was talking about. How would his brother know what Leo was trying to say? What exactly was he missing here? He opened his mouth to ask what Raph was talking about, but then his gaze met Leo's, their eyes locking, and the words died on his tongue. Leo had always had the ability to communicate a wealth of information with just his eyes, and right now there was something intense in his oldest brother's look, even as the navy orbs reflected a soft fondness that Mikey hadn't seen since…

His breath caught, his heart fluttering wildly inside his chest, a desperate hope and longing igniting somewhere deep inside his soul. He stared down intently at his brother, unable to look away, reading more from Leo's single look than he could have gained from a hundred words.

With a soft sigh, Leo gave the barest hint of a nod, his gaze flickering over to Raph before returning to Mikey.

"He remembers you Mikey," Raph stated without preamble, confirming the suspicion already growing in Mikey's heart. "He remembers all of us. He told me on the way back home, and when I quizzed him he answered every question correctly. I don't know how, but he really does remember." Raph's tone was soft, but the lingering wonderment and joy underlying his words was undeniable.

At the foot of the bed April made a sound that sounded like a soft sob, but Mikey couldn't tear his gaze from his brother to look at her. His own heart was exploding with joy, and he realized distantly that he was squeezing Leo's hand so tightly that his fingers were beginning to cramp. His vision was blurring from unbidden tears, but he didn't bother trying to wipe them away. He merely leaned in over the bed and lowered his forehead to his brothers, portraying without words the overwhelming emotions sweeping through him. All the pain and worry of the last several hours instantly dissolved in the face of this new joy, and he wanted nothing more than to gather Leo up in a bone crushing hug. But he knew that would have to wait until later, when his brother wasn't so…fragile.

"I suspected this might be the case," Splinter was saying from above them, his own voice filled with a soft pride and joy. "When he returned from the spirit plane and insisted on going after you all, there was something different about him. I had hoped this was the reason."

Spirit plane? Mikey wasn't sure what his father was talking about, but there would be time enough later for explanations. Right now all that he cared about was that everything he had been so desperately wishing for had come true. Leo was returned to them, fully and completely, and Mikey couldn't remember ever feeling happier.

He leaned back, grinning down at his brother widely, feeling so light he was surprised he wasn't floating. The sensation didn't last for long. While Leo was doing his best to return his smile with a weak one of his own, there was something in his eyes that immediately caught Mikey's attention. His gaze shone with love and relief, but beneath it all Mikey also detected a hint of sadness and resignation, and something else as well…

Acceptance.

In his euphoric state it took him a moment to piece it all together, but once he did he felt a coldness sweep over him, dampening his joy as quickly as it had come. He suddenly understood why Leo had fought so hard through his obvious pain and exhaustion to wake up. Why he had seemed so desperate to speak, even when they had urged him to rest and save his strength.

Telling them that he remembered them was Leo's way of saying goodbye.

Tearing his gaze from his oldest brother, Mikey looked desperately around at the rest of his family, wondering if they too realized what had just dawned on him. All it took was one glance to know that they had. Splinter was smoothing his hand across the top of Leo's head, staring down at his son while tears dampened the fur beneath his eyes. Both Raph and Donnie had their heads bowed, their expressions hidden from Mikey, but their body language spoke volumes. Both had reached out to grip some part of Leo's body, as though they could physically hold him back from fading away from them. At the foot of the bed April stood with tears running freely down her face, her expression one of despair.

Mikey's gaze snapped back down to his oldest brother, watching as Leo released a deep sigh, his eyelids fluttering as though about to close.

Something deep inside him snapped, and before he even realized what he was doing he had reached down and grabbed Leo by his shoulders, giving him a sharp shake.

"No!" The single word tore from his still bruised and swollen throat in a hoarse shout, causing those gathered around the bed to jump in surprise. But Mikey wasn't paying attention to them. All his attention was on Leo, who had reopened his eyes and was staring up at him in confused surprise. "Don't you dare, Leo," Mikey snapped, his hands tightening on his brother's shoulders, distantly aware that he was probably hurting him, but unable to stop regardless. "Don't you dare give up!"

"Mikey…" Donnie started to say, but Mikey just continued right over the top of him. He couldn't stop now. It was as if some sort of dam had burst inside, and he couldn't keep the words from flowing as quick and furious as the tears running down his face.

"If you give up now, I'll never forgive you. Do you hear me, Leo? Never! I'll hate you to my dying day!"

As soon as the words slipped from his mouth, Mikey felt something deep inside burst in a fiery explosion of pain. He suddenly couldn't say anything more…couldn't even breathe. He was dimly aware of the gasp of surprise from the rest of the family, and the way Leo's eyes had widened into huge, dark pools of pain. It looked like he was trying to say something, but Mikey couldn't stay and listen to whatever it was. The fierce ache in his chest demanded movement, and before he was even aware of what he was doing he had released Leo and turned and fled from the lab.

He heard them calling him, but he ignored it, barreling from the room and nearly colliding with Casey who was standing a few feet from the door, a concerned look on his face. Mikey darted past him and then up the stairs, careening into his room and slamming the door behind him. He threw himself onto his bed, burying his head in his pillow just in time to muffle the sobs tearing free from deep in his chest.


Leo stared after the retreating shell of his youngest brother, wanting nothing more than to jump from the bed and race after him, but too weak to even call out. Instead he closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing, struggling to remain conscious and not give in to the darkness trying to drag him under. Mikey's words echoed over and over again inside his head, but that wasn't what hurt the most. The look on his little brother's face was seared into his memory, and even with his eyes closed he could clearly picture the pain and betrayal written clearly in the sky blue irises.

He wished Mikey could understand. He didn't want to give up. He wanted to stay here…with his family. But he just wasn't strong enough. He had fought as hard as he could, but he could feel the cold fingers of death closing in around him, and he was powerless to stop it. He was just so tired. Tired of the pain. Tired of the memories that haunted him in the darkness. Just…tired.

He heard his family talking above him, their words lost to him but not the pain and worry in their voices. Knowing that he was the one responsible for that pain was almost unbearable. He felt like he was somehow letting them down, and it hurt…damn but it hurt! He couldn't help but wonder if they all shared the same feelings…the same disappointment in his lack of ability to fight off death. Did they think he had given in too easily?

'Am I giving in too easily?'

A small voice inside his head denied this thought vehemently. He had fought. Fought hard. And now he deserved to rest. He deserved a little peace. He deserved an escape from the pain and nightmares. Couldn't his family understand this? Couldn't they just let him go?

'Would I let them go if our positions were reversed?'

As much as he might not want to face the truth, he knew the answer without a shadow of a doubt. He would urge them to fight until the last breath…to never give in, no matter how inevitable the end result may seem. And if even for a moment he thought they were giving up too soon…well, his reaction would make Mikey's seem tame by comparison.

So how could he do any differently?

He was weak and tired and in pain, but he would just have to keep fighting. He owed that much to his family. It wasn't a battle he believed he could win, but if death wanted him, it would have to take him kicking and screaming…at least metaphorically. It was harder this way…but it was all he could offer his family; an inadequate apology for the pain he was causing them. And when it was all over, he hoped they would know he had fought until the bitter end.

'I'm not giving up, Mikey,' he whispered silently to himself. 'I promise, I'm fighting.'


He should be used to it by now, but Donatello was still amazed at just how draining worry and grief could be both physically and mentally. Add to that a body that is injured and exhausted…not to mention of few pints low in the blood department…and he was more than a little amazed that he was still conscious, let alone standing. As it was, he knew his brain wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders.

Exactly how long had he been standing in front of Mikey's door now?

With what seemed to take far more effort than it should, he raised his fist and knocked, unsurprised when he received no answer. "Mikey," he called, lowering his hand and leaning his shoulder and side of his head against the cool wood. "I'm coming in."

No reply.

With a tired sigh, Donnie reached for the doorknob, pushing the door open while part of his weight was still leaning against it. The result was a half fall, half stumble into his brother's dark room, and it was only by some miracle that he didn't end up flat on his face on the floor.

"Ouch," he muttered, his battered body complaining about the sudden jolt.

Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he looked up to find Mikey staring at him with wide eyes from where he sat cross legged on the bed, a pillow clutched tightly to his chest as though it were a shield. Mikey's eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed, and the pillow clutched in his hands looked suspiciously damp.

Carefully navigating the piles of junk on his little brother's floor, Donnie moved until he could sink down on the end of the bed, releasing a long and weary sigh as his shell met the wall with a dull thunk. He turned to observe his brother, unsurprised when Mikey avoided meeting his eyes, his gaze locked on the bedspread beneath him. Everything about his posture screamed of tension, his body held stiff and unyielding, the muscles in his arm standing out in sharp relief beneath his green skin.

"Are you alright?" Donnie asked softly, already knowing the answer but hoping he could get his brother to open up and speak to him.

Mikey flinched, his eyes darting up to meet Donnie's before quickly looking away again. "Don't," he ground out, his voice painfully horse and gruff. "Just…just tell me, okay. Don't…" he paused, swallowing hard, "d-don't d-drag it out."

Donnie frowned, for a moment not understanding what Mikey was talking about. Then his tired mind belatedly decided to work, and it dawned on him what his brother was waiting for. His heart gave a painful thrum, and he reached out to grip Mikey's forearm. "Leo's not dead," he stated simply, grateful he could relieve his brother's fear quickly. "Quite opposite actually. His fever broke a while ago and his vitals are back in the normal range. He's resting peacefully."

Mikey's head snapped up, his expression a painful mix of disbelief and raw, desperate hope. "He's alive?" he whispered, his shimmering eyes locking on Donnie's and searching intently, as though afraid to fully believe what he was hearing.

Donnie merely nodded, offering his brother a gentle smile. "Yeah, he's alive."

"And he's going to be okay?"

Donnie hesitated, thinking about how weak his brother still was and all the things that could still go wrong, but… "Yeah, Mikey, I really do think so. It's going to take some time for him to recover fully, but I think the worst of the danger is behind us now."

Mikey made a small sound in the back of his throat and all the tension seemed to drain from his body, leaving him hunched over, his head dropping down to bury in the pillow he still clutched to his chest. Donnie completely understood his brother's reaction, and he squeezed Mikey's arm before releasing him and slumping back against the wall.

It had been close…so very close. Donnie could only hope he would never have to go through anything like that ever again. Standing helplessly by and watching his brother fight for each and every breath had been pure torture. He had been so certain that they were going to lose Leo that he wasn't sure what to think when his brother's temperature had finally dropped and his vitals had begun to creep back toward normal ranges. It had taken over an hour of watching Leo sleeping peacefully before he'd finally allowed himself to believe that their big brother really was going to make it after all.

The relief in that moment had been immense, and after all the hours of tension, the exhaustion that followed was even greater. Master Splinter and April had taken charge, forcing Raph to lie down on the second bed in the lab and insisting that Donnie get some rest as well. Knowing his family would come and get him if he were needed, Donnie had made the trek up the stairs to check on his little brother before getting some much needed rest himself. After seeing the state Mikey was in, he was glad it was good news he'd brought with him.

"I shouldn't have yelled at him," Mikey stated softly, drawing Donnie from his thoughts. His voice was muted, both by emotions and the pillow in front of his face, but Donnie still heard him.

Releasing a soft sigh, Donnie let his head fall back against the wall behind him, watching his little brother out of the corner of one eye. "You were tired and scared, Mikey. We all let our emotions get the better of us in those kinds of situations. Besides, I think it actually helped."

Mikey let out an incredulous sound, lifting his head to stare at Donnie accusingly, obviously thinking his brother was trying to console him with empty words.

"It's true," Donnie defended. "You know how Master Splinter is always telling us the mind and body are intricately linked? Well, I think mentally Leo had already given up, and so his physical body was dying as well. When you yelled at him, you gave him a sort of jump start to get him back fighting long enough for the antibiotics to finally kick in and do their work. That's no small thing, Mikey. You probably saved his life."

Mikey looked as though he couldn't quite bring himself to fully believe what Donnie was saying. "I…I still wish I hadn't said those things," he admitted, dropping his gaze back down to the blanket. "As soon as I left I wanted to go back…to apologize, but…"he trailed off, his throat working as he fought to control his emotions.

Donnie understood. If things had ended up differently—a scenario he didn't really like to contemplate at all—Mikey would have had to live with the knowledge that his last words to Leo had been harsh and spoken in anger. It was that kind of guilt that would quietly tear a person apart from the inside out…had obviously already been tearing Mikey apart. He had sat in here all alone for hours, waiting for someone to come and tell him Leo was dead. Donnie couldn't even imagine the kind of pain his little brother must have been in.

Without thought, Donnie scooted in closer, throwing one arm around Mikey's un-bandaged shoulder and pulling his little brother in for a fierce hug. Always the most physical of all of them, Mikey didn't even try to resist. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Donnie's waist and buried his head against his shoulder. His entire form was trembling, and Donnie felt his heart ache for his younger brother's distress. The day had been nothing but an emotional roller coaster for all of them, and quite honestly he wasn't sure how he had managed to keep his own composure for so long.

"I didn't mean it," Mikey choked. "I could never hate him. Never! No m-matter what h-happened."

Donnie nodded, his chin bumping against the top of his brother's head. "I know, Mikey," he whispered, his own voice tight with emotion. "And Leo knows too."

Mikey sniffed loudly against his shoulder but didn't say anything in reply. Donnie knew his brother wouldn't feel completely better until he had a chance to talk to Leo, but the fact that he would actually get that chance was nothing short of a miracle, and Mikey had to know it. Relief and regret were strange bedfellows, but Donnie knew brother had to be feeling them both in no small measure.

Eventually Mikey pulled from the embrace, wiping one hand self-consciously across his swollen eyes. "Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to get all weepy on you."

Donnie grinned, giving his brother a gentle shove as he removed his arm from around Mikey's shoulders. "There's nothing to apologize for," he retorted lightly. "And I think we're all feeling a bit weepy right about now." He didn't tell Mikey about the tearful hug he had gotten from their most abrasive brother right before leaving the lab. Raph might not be in any condition to pound him now, but eventually his wounds would heal, and Donnie didn't want to risk it.

Mikey's face lit up in a sudden grin, the old familiar sparkle returning to his eyes once more. "I still can't believe he's going to be okay," he breathed, the excitement and joy in his voice obvious, as though the full impact of the news was just now dawning on him. "I…I think I'd like to go see him now, if that's okay?"

Donnie nodded, smiling at his brother in understanding. "Of course," he replied easily. "He's sleeping now, but I think he'd want you there." He knew Mikey needed to get some rest as well, but after seeing the torture his little brother had been putting himself through, he knew Mikey needed to see Leo was alright with his own eyes. He could rest after.

Mikey didn't need any more encouragement than that. Dropping his pillow he jumped from the bed and hurried to the door, pausing only long enough to turn and offer a quick but heartfelt, "Thanks, Don," before disappearing around the jam.

Donnie stared after him, the smile still playing around the edges of his mouth. Just like Mikey he was still struggling to comprehend how quickly things had gone from hopeless to hopeful. He knew they all had a lot more healing to do, and not just physically, but as long as they were all together…as long as they were whole…he had no doubt that they would heal.

Deciding the ten steps across the hall to his room were ten steps too many, Donnie stretched out across Mikey's bed, grabbing his brother's discarded pillow and flipping it to the non-damp side. His eyes were closed before his body had even completely settled, and less than a second later he was fast asleep.

TBC

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