Mikey's hands are shaking. He presses them between his knees.
"You sure we don't need to stop at a clinic?" Casey asks, glancing at Mikey in the rearview. His voice breaks the uncomfortable silence that settled inside the car.
"Sure I'm sure," Mikey tells him hoarsely. Just talking shoots pain through his jaw, and he has to clench his teeth for a second before he can add, "Nothing broken. Jus' sore."
He's staring out the window, counting street signs, aching to be home. Donnie is right next to him, and his presence is as reassuring as it's always been, but Mikey can't feel him.
Mikey is cold in a way he's never been before, right down to his bones. He's adrift without the anchoring touch of someone he trusts, someone who can grab him and hold him and keep him from disappearing again, the shape of their hands on his back or his arms or his hair keeping him where he belongs.
Casey lingers for a second longer than he really needs to at the last intersection. But it's only for a second, and then he's turning in the direction of Mikey's apartment, and Mikey texts Leo eta 2 minutes.
Turns out the text is unnecessary. His friends are waiting in the parking lot. They've probably been waiting there since Mikey called nearly half an hour ago, despite the chill.
Woody is sitting on the front steps of the building, tugging his sleeves over his hands with anxious little yanks, while Leo paces with military precision back and forth through the damp grass. They both jerk their heads up when the station wagon's headlights pass over them.
Mikey barely makes it out of the car before Leo's there, wrenching him into an embrace while the back door just sort of hangs open behind them.
He's warm and solid and safe, the farthest possible thing from that frightening creature in that old farmhouse, and the only thing Mikey wants in the whole world is to just… stand here for awhile.
But he immediately recants that sentiment, because Woody sounds so afraid when he says his name that Mikey draws back immediately to look for him.
Woody makes this awful, quiet noise. Leo's eyes are like ice, tilting Mikey's chin with a careful hand to get a good look at what feels like a pretty ugly bruise.
"I'm okay," Mikey attempts.
"'Course you are," Woody says with a pale smile. "You're the best."
"But you're frozen solid," Leo adds. He lets go of Mikey's chin to rub briskly at his shoulders. "Let's go inside. We can talk about what happened to you in the morning. Capisce?"
"I capisce."
He missed Raph and Casey getting out of the car, but he glances over when their doors snap shut. Casey leans over to shut Mikey's, too.
"Mind if we sleep on the pullout?" he asks in the tone of someone assuming their welcome. It's how he used to ask Donnie if he could stay over. He hasn't used that tone with Mikey in nearly two years.
It feels like an olive branch. Mikey slides a surreptitious glance at Donnie, who is watching his old friends with approval and something else— something bittersweet and affectionate. He smiles at Mikey and nods. Whether it's because he truly doesn't mind their company or he just wants Mikey to feel safe, it's impossible to tell.
"Sure," Mikey croaks. He's careful to avoid Raph's eyes when he looks back at Casey. "Leo and Woody usually stay in my room anyway."
Leo doesn't surrender Mikey for even a second, one strong arm curled tight around his shoulders, as if daring any invisible enemy to try and snatch Mikey away again. Woody touches Mikey's hand tentatively once they're all crammed into the elevator, as if uncertain whether or not his touch will be welcome. Mikey twists his wrist and clasps Woody's hand immediately. It seems to make them both feel better.
Donnie takes point. The lights all hum a little brighter as he passes by. The rest of the trip to Mikey's front door takes about a minute, but it feels like the longest trip of Mikey's life. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, he hurts. His legs are wobbly with over-exertion, and his feet are sore, and his whole head is pounding.
He must have walked those twenty-some miles to that old farmhouse when that grudge possessed him, for all that he doesn't remember it. Thinking about that blank space in his memory is enough to make his heart beat faster, so he does what he does best— he compartmentalizes.
Puts everything out of his mind except the most immediate, harmless things: relief that he gave his friends spare house keys, as Woody leans in and clumsily unlocks the door with his left hand. Affection as Klunk immediately crosses the room to thread around Mikey's ankles, and Archimedes wags her tail at Donnie so hard her whole body wiggles. The sense of safety as the door closes behind them and Raph slides the deadbolt in place.
"Home sweet home," Mikey says. It comes out a croak.
Shower, Donnie signs. Warm up first. Hot shower will make— Here, Donnie pauses, obviously stumped on a word, and then finger-spells, B-R-U-I-S-E-S worse. But will help with pain.
They've been learning ASL together for the past couple months, through an online course. It's nice to be able to talk to Donnie again without a phone between them.
"I'm gonna shower," Mikey announces to the room at large. His voice seesaws out like a rusty gate. He rubs at his throat with a grimace and tries again. "Can someone order food?"
"On it," Casey says, sliding his phone out of his back pocket with the hand not busy scritching Archie behind the ears. "That Thai place on 44th is open all night."
Donnie is lingering in the room despite the painful proximity to Raph and Casey, watchful and protective.
He catches Mikey's eye and signs, It's okay. He smiles, and adds the name sign he came up with, the letter M and then the sign for 'sun'. Mikey. It's okay.
And with that, for the first time since Mikey woke up in the farmhouse, he figures it must be.
Woody squeezes his hand before letting him go. Leo holds on for a second longer.
Klunk keeps pace beside him when he heads down the hall, the little bell on her collar jingling merrily. They stop in Mikey's bedroom first for clean clothes, and then move through Donnie's room to the half-bath in there. The standing shower is about all Mikey feels capable of right now. If he has to clamber over the tub in the big bathroom, he'll probably fall on his face.
Klunk hops up onto the bathroom counter to supervise while Mikey starts running water to get it hot. She settles into a loaf, green eyes alert, as if she's decided to take up the mantle of sentry. Mikey smiles at her, rubbing her soft orange forehead with the backs of his fingers.
"Don't you worry about me," he tells her. "I always come home."
When he peels off his dirty shirt, Mikey catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and almost swears. Leo says swearing doesn't suit him. But in this case, Mikey would be well within his rights.
One side of his face is entirely black and blue. It's no wonder his jaw is so sore. What did that ghost do to him, bounce his head off a brick wall?
He winces his way out of his jeans, shaky legs protesting the exercise, and then proceeds to spend about ten minutes standing listlessly under the spray from the showerhead, letting the water bill rack up because it feels so good to chase that persistent cold away. Only then, and only because he seriously doubts his ability to stand upright for much longer, Mikey scrubs coconut shampoo into his hair and squirts too much body wash into a flannel he only drops twice.
Mikey feels scoured when he steps out onto the mat, and dries mechanically. Manages to wrestle himself into a long sleeve T-shirt and sweatpants, and then sits on the lid of the toilet and rests his head against the side of the counter.
The room is warm and fragrant and full of steam. There's food and company waiting for him just down the hall. He's safe. He knows he's safe.
But he still hurts. His legs are sore, and his head is pounding, and even his arms and hands are covered in what looks like road rash.
And he's still scared. What's to stop that thing from coming back and taking him again? What's to stop his friends from throwing themselves into danger they can't even see, and getting hurt or ending up d— ending up like Donnie?
In fact, a tiny voice in the back of Mikey's mind admits, he's always scared.
Klunk is purring by his ear, projecting comfort, but he doesn't lift his head. He buries it a little farther instead. He's still shaking, even though he isn't cold anymore.
There are two quick knocks on the door. Mikey's about to say "come in," and then realizes his face is wet with tears, and chokes back the invite just in time. He snatches up the terrycloth handtowel laying by the sink and scrubs at his eyes with it, calling out, "I'm coming— just a sec!"
The door opens. It wasn't locked.
Mikey finds himself looking up at Raphael, of all people, who lingers in the doorway as if he's unsure of his welcome.
"Hey, kid," he says quietly. "Can we talk?"