Chapter Five


The next morning, Raphael was up early, cooking breakfast. Following the sizzling noise and the smell of the cooking pancakes wafting towards his room, Donatello ambled sleepily into the kitchen area, yawning and stretching. "Good morning, Raph," he said groggily, sliding into a chair at the table.

Raph took a moment to study his brother's weary, hunched-over form before turning back to the task at hand. "What time did you get to bed last night, Don?" Raphael asked, flipping a pancake high into the air and deftly catching it in the pan.

"Morning," Donny corrected. With his elbow resting on the table and his head cradled in his palm, he yawned again. "I was up all night studying the contents of that syringe."

This quickly grabbed Raphael's attention. "Did you find anything out?"

Having anticipated the question, Donny explained, "I found out that it's some kind of drug, one that I've never seen before. My guess is that the substance has been either created or genetically modified by some company." He paused for a moment, unsure as to whether or not to disclose one certain piece of information. "There was a great amount of seriously intense, and chemically modified, alcohol in the contents of the syringe."

"Alcohol?" Raphael asked in surprise.

"Right. I'm keeping an open mind at the moment, I mean there were many other chemicals in there, and all of the fluid inside it was modified in some way. It's like nothing I've ever seen before."

"You'll figure it out, whatever it is; you always do," Raph said encouragingly, placing a plate of pancakes on the table.

As he speared a pancake on his plate, the now more-awake Donny realised that something was amiss and remarked, "You're in a good mood this morning, Raph. You're first up, you've made breakfast, and you're being generally nice – what's it all in aid of?"

"I guess I'm just in a good mood," Raph said with a shrug.

"It's amazing what apologising to your brother can do to you, isn't it?" Donny persisted, grinning.

"Don't push your luck," Raphael growled, but as he turned away to reach the jug of pancake batter, he was grinning as well.

Leonardo strolled out of his room at that moment, looking a lot fresher than Donatello had when he'd emerged. Heading towards the kitchen table, he greeted his brothers. "Morning, guys," he said, sniffing appreciatively at the aroma of Raphael's pancakes. He sat down and was represented with a plate. As he took a bite out of the food he asked, with his mouth full, "Mikey up yet?"

"Not yet," Raphael said, preparing another plate of pancakes.

"I'll go get him," Donny volunteered, having finished his first helping of pancakes. He was somewhat surprised that the smell of cooking breakfast had not roused his brother, but he did not openly comment upon it. Instead he added, "he'll go crazy if he's misses out on his breakfast."

Watching Donny walk to Mikey's room, Leo voiced Donny's thoughts. "Master Splinter must have made him work hard yesterday; it's not like him to continue to sleep once breakfast is done."

Donny knocked on the door to his brother's room, and waited for a moment for the reply that didn't come. "Mike? You awake?" He called, before opening the door a crack. To his relief he found Mikey still fast asleep in his bed.

"Rise and shine, bro," Donny said loudly, walking into his brother's messy bedroom. Mikey had evidently kicked the cover to the floor at some point in the night, and Donatello picked it up and folded it as he tried to awaken his brother. He stopped, seeing that Mikey had not so much as twitched at his voice or presence. "Mikey?" He asked, dropped the cover on the end of the bed and advancing towards him. He shook Mikey's shoulder slightly, and received only a murmur for his efforts.

Donatello tentatively placed a hand to his brother's forehead, and cursed at the heat radiating off of it. "Jesus," he mumbled, snatching his hand back. In a split second, questions and thoughts ran through his mind. What caused the fever? When did he develop it? Is it an infection, and is that infection bacterial or viral? And how closely linked is it with the fact that not too long ago he consumed a large amount of alcohol?

He knew that the answers to those questions would have to wait. "Leo, there's something wrong with Mikey," he called loudly, trying to conceal the alarm in his voice.

"He ain't waking up?" Raphael questioned. "Surely he can't still have a hangover?"

Donny swallowed and said, "I think it's something more serious than a hangover."

There was just enough panic in Donny's voice to let Leonardo know that something was not right. He stepped away from the table and walked at a smart pace towards Mikey's room. Raphael too picked up on the hint of anxiety in his brother's voice, and followed Leonardo.

Donatello took charge of the situation for the time being. "Raphael, I want you to go to the cabinet in the bathroom and find the thermometer, then go and get a cloth, run it under the cold tap and bring it back here. Leo, go and tell Master Splinter that Mikey's got a fever."

Raphael was already gone and Leonardo was halfway out of the door when Donny looked up from Mikey to finish delivering his commands. Quickly he had found a thinner cover from under the bed and had placed it over his brother, to retain some heat and avoid any sudden change in temperature.

Raphael returned with the thermometer moments later and hung around long enough to ask, "what's wrong with him?"

Placing the thermometer in his brother's mouth, Donny said, "at the moment, he's got what I suspect to be a moderate fever, but I'm not sure what sort of illness he has."

"Do you reckon he had some sort of bad reaction to the booze or something?" Raphael persisted.

"I doubt that; if that was the case it would have kicked in beforehand," Donny explained. "I'm not ruling out the possibility that it is related to what happened the other night, though. Let's just all keep an open mind; there's the great possibility that he caught an infection from someone when he went topside that night, which would be nothing to do with the alcohol."

"Right," Raphael said shortly. "I'll go get that cold cloth thing now," he said, hastening out of Mikey's room in the direction of the bathroom.

Almost as soon as Raph had walked out, both Leonardo and Splinter hurried into Mikey's room. "Donatello," Splinter said in an ever-so-slightly agitated tone, "your brother informs me that Michelangelo is unwell."

"Yes, Sensei," Donny said, standing to allow his Master to kneel by Mikey.

Splinter studied him for a second, pressing his furry hand to Mikey's forehead as Donny had done some moments ago. After a moment, he spoke, "I fear that we are no longer dealing with a mere hangover," Splinter said gravely. He studied his son, regretting putting him through the intense training the previous day. He wished he'd have waited until Michelangelo had fully recovered from his alcohol consumption before he carried out the punishment.

"I'll take some blood samples to try and find out what we're dealing with," Donny said quietly, leaving the room to fetch the required medical equipment. He took that moment alone to process his thoughts. He had a feeling that the simple fact of the alcohol consumption did not cause such an adverse effect. He suspected that the gang of men with the syringe the three turtles met yesterday had something to do with Mikey's current fever, but he wasn't able to prove it. Not yet, anyway.

As Splinter knelt by Mikey, Raphael returned with a bowl of cool water and a cloth. "Here you are, Sensei," he said, offering them to him.

"Thank you, Raphael," Splinter spoke gently as moistened the towel and placed it on Mikey's forehead. Mikey squirmed a little under the cool sensation, but he quickly settled, some of the frowning muscles around his eyes relaxing slightly. "Rest, my son," Splinter said softly, tucking the cover around Michelangelo.


Donny was quickly in and out of Mikey's room, not wasting a moment before returning to his domain to analyse the blood he had drawn from his brother. He knew how meaningful wasted seconds could be between life and death.

Splinter had excused the turtles from training that day, but Leonardo still performed two hours of martial arts exercise that morning anyway. It kept both his mind and body occupied, as Splinter understood, and so allowed his son to continue.

Raphael, on the other hand, left Mikey's room only to refill the bowl of cool water. He was not known for showing compassion, but he showed some that day, by remaining almost constantly at his brother's side. Donny had tried to convince him that Mikey only had a moderate fever, and that it would not be long before he figured out what was wrong with him, but though Raph nodded, he decided to stay anyway, "just to make sure." He sat at his brother's bedside as he slept, keeping a watchful eye over him.

After an hour or two of reading through some of Mikey's music magazines, (having decided to pass on reading through his brother's collection of comic books,) Raphael stood up to stretch his legs. Mikey's room was fairly small, so when taking into account the junk that was strewn across the floor, there was not a whole lot of room for Raphael to walk around in, but he tried anyway.

Under a large pile of papers he found his brother's desk. He took a moment to actually study the papers, and he then realised what they were. He smiled to himself. "Hey, Mike, anyone ever tell you that these drawings are really good?"

Raph had found some of Mikey's sketches, a few in pencil, others in charcoal. One particularly striking one was of the New York skyline at night, done on black paper with white chalk. Despite receiving no response the first time, he continued anyway. "You do good work," he said approvingly. "How come you never showed any of these to anyone?"

Even though he was having a very one-sided conversation, talking to Mikey felt good, and, he reasoned with himself, it passed the time. He sat back in the chair and continued. "I apologised for one thing last night, but you never know, maybe in the not-too-distant future I might be apologising again. He won't admit it yet, not until he has proof or something, but Don thinks there was more to you getting drunk than meets the eye. And frankly, so do I.

"Remember we told you last night, at dinner, about those guys who we fought in the alley. He said something about 'not the right subject' or something. If it wasn't me, Leo and Don that they were looking for, then there are some pretty high odds that they were talking about you."

Mikey lay on the outside of consciousness, trying desperately to focus and listen to his brother's soft words. He heard him talk about his sketches, and compliment them. 'I must be dreaming,' he thought to himself. He tried to concentrate on Raphael's ramblings, and suddenly he heard the word 'subject.' All of a sudden his body shook and his eyes snapped open, and the sudden movement made Raph jump.

"Mikey?" He said, standing up with a start.

Mikey could not hear him or see anything, despite his eyes being open. He was plunged into the fairly familiar numbness, where all he could see were the somewhat distorted images that he had seen once before.

He climbed down the railings into the dark alley below. It was quiet, but Mikey's ninja senses detected something. He did not even have time to pull out his nunchucks before he was struck over the head, hard, with the baseball bat. He saw a blond man, grinning wickedly beneath his moustache.

"He had a moustache," Mikey murmured. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling and his whole body had tensed. Only his lips moved as he spoke.

"What?" Panicking, Raphael hastened to the door and yelled out, "Donny, get in here now!"

Mikey didn't hear; he tried to focus on the images, desperately wanting to be able to pick out any details that might be relevant. He felt like he was swimming in a thick, black molasses, desperately trying to search for the light to show him the way out. At that moment, he watched as another image was played through his mind.

The moustached-man was leering at him, leaning over him. As well as the one in his eye, there was a glint of an object in his hand. A syringe.

Suddenly darkness flooded into Mikey's vision once more, but he felt the colossal weight from his chest lift as he began to return to a conscious state. He relaxed his entire body, and his breathing slowed and returned to a normal pace. Mikey's first conscious thought was that he felt something odd on his head, so he put his hand up and felt the cloth there. He removed it, wiped the remaining droplets away with the back of his arm. Mikey gradually opened his eyes and turned to look at Raphael, who looked deeply concerned for his brother. "Mikey, are you okay? You looked like you were possessed or something!"

Donny quickly burst into the room, looking at Raphael for an explanation. Raphael could only shrug helplessly as he watched Mikey.

"I'm okay," Mikey said quietly, looking up at both his brothers. As an afterthought, he added, "kinda hot, though."

"You've got a fever," Raph explained bluntly. He took the cloth from his brother, soaked it in the bowl and placed it back on his brother's forehead. "Leave the cloth there, it will help."

Mikey nodded, feeling the comfort from the cool rag. In his already slightly delirious state, he finally realised that he was not well. He did not let on that to his brothers. "Hey, Doc Donatello, have you figured out what's wrong with me? Or did I randomly go out for drinks again last night and forget about it this morning?" Mikey asked, shifting uncomfortably under the sheet.

Donny smiled at his brother's intact humour and said, "No, unless you were quiet about it, which isn't one of your usual character traits," he ignored the half-hearted glare from Mikey, "you didn't go out drinking last night." Donny hesitated a moment, before he said, "Just rest easy, okay?"

"Whatever you say, Don," Mikey said sleepily, rolling over and slipping into a restless slumber.

Both brothers watched for a moment as Mikey slept almost peacefully, before Raph pulled one of Donny's arms and yanked him outside their brother's room. In his usual style, he got straight to the point. "Okay, Donatello, I've seen that look before. What aren't you telling Mikey about his illness that you're about to tell me?"

Donny sighed, wishing he wasn't so easy to read. He knew that the others would have to know sooner or later, but he wished that he didn't have make them understand, or better yet, he wished he wasn't the one that had made the discovery in the first place. It was at times like these that he cursed his intellect. "You want the good news or the bad news?"

"Both, now." Raph was not in the mood for messing around.

"The good news is that I've managed to figure out what's wrong with Mikey. The bad news is, I don't know how to cure it at the moment." If ever, he silently added

Raphael did not like where this was going. "So what's he got? Some kind of infection? A virus?"

Donny swallowed. "Right now, he's slowly being poisoned."