Chapter Three
"Do you think…I mean...do you think it's really him? I mean, we saw-"
"We saw the Kraang take him. We didn't see what happened after, but whatever happened wouldn't have been good. I don't think that we should believe-"
A peal of laughter rings through the Lair, interrupting the hotheaded turtle's train of thought; his expression turns sour as Mikey's warm voice is complimented by a smooth baritone a few seconds later. Donnie snorts.
"We shouldn't believe Mikey's freakishly good empathic abilities? He would've ratted out an impostor in seconds."
"Well if that's really Leo, then why wouldn't he talk to us?"
"Maybe because you were going to gut him the second he walked in the door?" the genius suggests dryly. "You want to know what I think? I think you're jealous."
"I'm not jealous."
"Yeah, you are. You're jealous as hell. And it shows."
Raph spins around and fixes that fiery green gaze on his brother's face, sneering. "Like you're not? If Mike is perfectly capable of patching Leo up, then why are you still here?"
It's a low blow, and both of them know it. Donnie doesn't rise to the bait, instead choosing to finish his coffee and take the mug over the sink. He pauses on his way out of the kitchen to offer a response. "I may be jealous," he says coolly, "but at least I'm not letting it eat me alive."
Truth be told, both turtles are feeling the sting of rejection from the oldest, though neither of them will truly admit it. It rubs them both the wrong way to know that Michelangelo and Leonardo have been holed up in the former leader's room together for the past three days - and the only time the youngest emerged was to hurriedly pull some foodstuffs from the kitchen before disappearing again and locking the door.
His suspicious actions finally tug at Raph's thoughts long enough to raise a red flag. "Something's going on in there," the hothead mutters. "If Mike ain't gonna share with the class, then I'm just gonna have to find out myself."
"Don't do anything stupid," Donnie calls over his shoulder. "The one person you don't want to piss off is the insanely powerful psychic."
And just as the purple-clad ninja predicted, the second that Raph reaches for the door to the forbidden room, there's a searing pressure in his head. He squeezes his eyes shut, stumbling back a few paces, and a low growl rips from his throat as Mikey's voice echoes through his mind.
Don't try it, Raph.
"I do what I want," he snaps back, pinching the space between his eyes in an effort to ease the pounding headache. "You're not the leader."
No, I'm not. But Leo is, and more than that, he deserves privacy. Like I said before: don't try it. This is your only warning.
And just like that, Mikey goes silent. The headache remains, though, a palpable warning of just what could happen if the most volatile Hamato crossed a line - and more than that, for Raph, a painful reminder that he wasn't able to be there for his oldest brother before, and now it might just be too late to make amends.
As Raph stomps away, I turn guilt-filled eyes to my baby brother. He smacks me lightly over the head with a rolled-up comic book by way of an answer. "Stop that. You deserve privacy, Leo. You said yourself that you weren't ready for them to know about him yet, and to be completely honest, I don't think you are either. They need to respect that boundary. Okay?"
"Okay," I mumble, glancing over at the person in question. My lips curl upwards when I notice that the baby has fallen asleep in the small nest of blankets and pillows Mikey made for him yesterday. It's no crib, but it seems to do the trick. A thought occurs to me and my gaze lands on Mikey's face again. "Did- has Sensei asked about me?"
"He's having a hard time coming to grips with reality," Mikey says after a long moment. "You were gone for so long that they all really just...gave up hope. And now that you're back, none of them know how to handle the situation. Give him time. He'll come around."
Because Sensei's definitely known to radically change his opinions on things. And I'm the Queen of England.
A sudden wave of exhaustion hits me and I sink back against my pillows, sighing as Mikey pulls the quilt up around my shoulders. He starts humming a soft melody and traces a pattern on my shoulder as my heavy eyelids drift shut. The last thing I'm aware of is the gentle touch of his calloused fingertips on my skin, right before sleep claims me, and I sink deep into oblivion.