I'm Fine 2

Michelangelo squirmed out from under his behemoth brother and shook his head like a cat with itchy ears. "Still not funny, Raph."

He heard Raphael grumble in his Brooklyn Batman voice. "Welp, I tried. Yer turn, Donnie."

Mikey blinked. What turns?

He lifted to his knees, frowning, feeling that familiar soothing touch of the family scientist's fingers on his face.

"Come on, Mike, you didn't even laugh," and Donatello sounded so disappointed that a burning lump formed in Mikey's throat to join the block of ice in his gut.

He swallowed painfully and made himself stare directly into those golden green eyes magnified by tortoiseshell glasses. "S-sorry, Donnie. Guess I... I just have a... a h-headache." He had a violent headache. It threatened to hammer him into oblivion.

"Bullshit," Raph coughed.

"Raph," came Leonardo's growl.

Donnie's doctor stare became more intense. "Well, depression often causes headaches. It's an illness, after all. In the brain."

Mikey screamed in his head. He'd been doing that too much. He wanted to yell, again, that he Was Not Depressed, For Pizza's Sake, Leave It Alone, but Leo had figured him out and now nobody would leave him alone and he just wanted to scr-

"Damn, never heard the kid growl like that before." And Raph sounded far far away.

"Mikey, you're shaking," Don murmured.

He was shaking. His head hurt even more. His skin was tingling. His whole body was suddenly light and floating. His brothers' voices were clouds.

"Something's wrong," Leo said tightly. "I think he's gonna pass out."

Donatello had flipped down his goggles. "More than that," and his voice was high with alarm, "I think he's having a seizure!"

Michelangelo almost burst out giggling. Oh was that what it was? Was that why he felt like bursting out of his skin violently?

He felt his eyes roll back in his head, felt his whole body go sideways, and then he felt absolutely nothing.

It was bliss.

He pried open his eyes, seeing the blurry living room ceiling, feeling scooped out and utterly fatigued. His muscles ached and trembled like he'd spent a whole day in the ha'shi in rotation, with two hundred backflips. Michelangelo heard himself moan and decided it was pathetic.

A cool damp cloth was wiped over his face. "Easy, Mikey," came Donnie's voice, soft and frightened. "Don't move too much." Donnie's face came into view right above him, and he looked desperately worried.

Michelangelo scrunched up his face. "Cn't move anyw'y. Wwhy hurting?" His raw voice startled him.

He felt Don slip a hand under his head and he blinked, barely registering the sports drink held to his lips.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched his older brothers approach carefully. Then he realized he was lying on the couch with his head in Don's lap. Donnie was trembling a little. Why was Donnie trembling?

The voices of Splinter, April, and Casey came through clearly. And then Casey was crouched right in front of his face, staring staring at him.

"Yeah," Casey said. "He definitely had a seizure. He's made himself physically sick... I've seen it before with the mentally ill kids we pick up. How long did you say he's been depressed?"

Mikey frowned and wanted to snap that he wasn't depressed but Raph was there, making him drink that orange electrolyte drink.

"I... at least two weeks," Leonardo mumbled. "I finally talked to him last night and he denied everything. But he's been quiet and tired, he's either sleeping too much or barely sleeping at all, he feels feverish after training. And. And he hasn't been eating much."

Casey bit his lip and ran his hands up and down Mikey's arm. Mike felt too weak to question it. Nobody joked about the food thing and he found he didn't care. Casey's warmth was soothing.

"His skin is dry but there's also dehydration. Do you guys regularly moisturize?"

"Got a few bottles of olive oil an' a big jar o' coconut oil," Raphael spoke up, "and Mike's the one who reminds us."

The new detective shook his head. "There's no evidence of oils on his skin or shell. Neglecting personal care is a major symptom. Could lead to cracked skin."

Mikey gritted his teeth. He was *not* depressed, it was *not* making him sick, he was *fine* - and he found himself too weak to protest, damn it.

He had finished half the drink before the raging headache slammed into him and he began to cry.

"Aww, Mike, no, hey," and Raph lifted him into his arms as Don hugged him from behind. Leonardo grabbed Mikey's hands and pressed their foreheads together.

Michelangelo just sobbed hims elf into deeper exhaustion.

Maybe he wasn't fine after all.