Michelangelo shot Raphael a winning smile as the red-masked turtle finished cleaning his plate, and nodded appreciatively at the younger turtle.
"That's good stuff, Mikey. I gotta say it's nice to have you back; I've been itching for some of your cooking."
Mike's grin deepened. "You know what I'm itching for? Another shot at you."
Raphael gazed at Mike skeptically. It had been nearly two weeks since the worst of his brother's symptoms had dissipated again. Raphael was more aware of Michelangelo than he'd been in months; but then, he was living just down the hall from him again. Raphael's senses were already on high alert because of listening for Olivia in the next room, and he'd inadvertently caught himself listening for Mike too.
Michelangelo had returned to training with the medical team's blessing days ago, but sparring had yet to be attempted.
Raphael shot his brother a smirk. "I don't know if you're ready for me, Mike."
Michelangelo crossed his arms with a gleam in his blue eyes. "You're not scared to get back out on the mat with me, are you, Raphy? I know it's been awhile, but I still remember how to kick your shell."
"You and what army, Chucklehead?" Raphael pushed back from the table, and dropped his dishes in the sink. "But we probably ought to check with Donny first, make sure he's got no problem with it."
"Why would he have a problem, bro? He's used to patching you up by now."
Raphael rolled his eyes. Yeah, bonehead, I'm the one he should be worrying about.
"I'll go find him - Donny needs to get eat something to eat anyway," Mike pointed out.
Raphael settled against the counter top as his brother disappeared from the kitchen. It felt much quieter around the Den than normal, with three out of the four women gone for the weekend to Pennsylvania. It was the first such trip that Rebecca had been comfortable to take within the last couple of months, and it made him feel like things really were getting back to normal.
The other girls had gotten into the habit of accompanying Rebecca when she left the state in her fund-raising efforts for the Congo. Karina was the only one who hadn't made the trip with them, mostly because of Olivia. The bronze-haired woman was on the surface this afternoon with Kat and Luke, leaving the four turtles underground with a napping Olivia.
"...it's called a 'break', Donny, have you ever heard of it?" Mike's voice traveled through the door, before his brothers even entered the kitchen.
Donatello bore the typical sheepish expression he got whenever someone had to remind him to eat. "It does smell good, Mikey," the purple-masked turtle confessed. "I'm sorry I didn't come the first time you called, I've been a little caught up in debugging this software."
Hearing that Donatello was distracted by some computer program rather than Mike's health was comforting to the red-masked turtle too. Mike took a minute to set him up with a plate, before fixing him with a hopeful smile.
Donny didn't notice it right away as he was occupied with the food, but a hovering Michelangelo didn't escape his notice for long. "All right, what do you want, Mikey?"
"I wanna spar with Raph. Is that okay, Don?"
Donny left his fork suspended in mid-air as he considered it. "Well...I guess...I mean, you're feeling up for it?"
The orange-masked turtle nodded eagerly.
"Then it should be fine; just stay aware of yourself, okay?" Donatello looked at Raphael as he finished, and the older turtle nodded.
Raphael intended to keep Donny company for awhile while he ate, until Donatello reached for his vibrating phone. He tapped a button on the screen with a secretive smile, and his gaze remained riveted as he typed a message.
"Don't forget to eat, Donny." Mike said firmly.
"I'm not-I mean, I won't..." Donatello faltered with a chuckle. "You guys go ahead, okay? I'll clean all this up when I'm finished; it's my turn anyway."
Raphael repressed another smirk as he left the kitchen with Michelangelo.
I don't think it ever gets old with him and Jen. I sure hope the same can be said of all of us when we've been together that long. I sure don't see myself getting bored with Kari.
He was grateful to see his normally exuberant little brother being careful to move quietly through the living area. Olivia was sleeping soundly in her playpen, and Raphael paused beside her to listen to her breathe for a couple of seconds before following Mike to the dojo.
As Mike stretched out his legs on the mat, Raphael was once more painfully aware of the weight his younger brother had lost over the last couple of months.
This stuff has taken more of a toll than he wants to admit.
Raphael plunked down on the floor beside him, and began running through familiar warming up exercises. Mike was in his typical jovial element, running his mouth in a way that simply begged for a shell-kicking. Despite Mike's eagerness, however, he still felt the need to take it easy on his youngest brother.
After a couple of minutes on the mat they got up to face each other. Raphael wasn't expecting the speed of Mike's lunge that caught him squarely in the stomach, and threw him off balance. The red-masked turtle nearly fell, but lightning reflexes enabled him to correct his form, and he shot a sweeping blow at his brother's feet.
Michelangelo barely evaded him, leaping just out reach. The grin on the orange-masked turtle's face made it that much harder for Raphael to hold back his force.
But I've been outta commission enough times to know how good it feels to get back on the mat...he deserves a little leeway today.
Raphael didn't make an immediate move against his brother, letting Mike attack him instead. Michelangelo feigned one direction, and then whipped the other way so fast that he became a blur. Mike's foot hooked behind Raphael's leg, and brought the red-masked turtle down on one knee.
Michelangelo snorted as Raphael darted upright. "Would you quit going so easy on me? How am I supposed to have any fun?"
A savage glint entered Raphael's eyes as he erupted off the mat. His powerful lunge propelled his younger brother backwards, and carried both of them head over heels onto the mat. Raphael landed in the dominant position on top of his brother, and gave him a grin.
"Are you having fun yet, Mike?"
Michelangelo squirmed underneath him. "Rematch!" he demanded.
Raphael popped up from the mat. "Have it your way, bro."
Michelangelo got to his feet, looking none the worse for wear. They slowly circled each other for a few seconds, before Raphael sensed Mike's spring. He spun out of his younger brother's reach, and lowered his shoulder to thrust a softened blow into Mike's jaw.
Michelangelo faltered but didn't go down, staggering backwards a couple of steps. Raphael stayed in the ready position, not bothering to pursue him.
"Still taking it easy, huh?" Mike challenged. "I'm gonna make you regret that."
"Then quit running your mouth and get your shell over here, Mikey.'
The orange-masked turtle darted at him, instantly making himself vulnerable. Raphael tripped him up, in a way that almost felt too easy. He pounced on top of Michelangelo to keep him down, and was surprised when his brother rolled onto his side, and forced his elbow under Raphael's chest.
Mike used his shoulder for leverage, and had both arms around Raphael's biceps in the blink of an eye. The orange-masked turtle shoved him sideways, and slammed Raphael back down on the edge of the mat with a triumphant cry.
"Now I'm having fun, Raphy!"
Raphael growled in irritation as he rose, and Mike's expression suddenly changed.
"Shell, you're bleeding, Raph."
The red-masked turtle swiped a hand across his stinging cheek. He'd struck the corner of the mat the wrong way when Mike flipped him, but it didn't feel that bad.
"No biggie, Mike. What's a little blood between brothers?"
"I'm sorry, bro."
"Let it go, okay? Throw me that rag, would you?"
Mike's chest was heaving as he scooped a small towel off the nearby bench.
"Hey, Mike, just chill for a second, all right? I'm gonna go rinse this off, and I'll be right back. I ain't through with you yet," Raph finished threateningly.
Mike still seemed to be breathing a little too quickly as he leaned against the wall, and sank to the mat in a cross-legged position, but he waved Raphael off to go ahead.
Raphael exited toward the living area, and noticed that his blue-masked brother was downstairs now, leafing through his current book. Leonardo glanced up when he heard him coming, and then gave him a double-take.
"What'd you do, Raph, get in a fight with yourself?"
"Nah, Donny cleared me and Mike to go at it, and he got a little...excited. It was an accident. I just hit the edge of the mat."
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, sure, Leo. I'll be back."
Raphael trotted upstairs to the bathroom, and set to work washing the small gash in his cheek. Donny would insist on looking at it later, but right now, he didn't want to be fussed over. He kept pressure on the wound just until it stopped bleeding, and then cleansed it thoroughly.
Raphael came back downstairs quietly, and checked one more time on Olivia, to find that she was stirring. A cry started to escape her before Raphael scooped her out of the playpen.
"Want me to take her, Raph? I'm not doing anything," Leo offered.
The red-masked turtle shook his head. "No, it's okay, Fearless. I think she'd enjoy watching her daddy beat up on her Uncle. He's got it coming."
"Take it easy on him, Raph," Leo reminded him.
"Why do you think I'm the one bleeding, Leo? I ain't gonna hurt him," Raphael said defensively, and turned back toward the dojo.
Raphael hadn't expected a spirited welcome from Mike, but his brother's lack of reaction was still strange. His brow furrowed as he put Olivia down on the mat, and ambled toward the orange-masked turtle.
"Mike? C'mon, you're not done already, are you? I'm fine, bro, I shook it off. Now get up, and let's finish this."
Michelangelo's head was lolled against his shoulder for support, almost like the turtle was asleep.
"Mike? Quit messing around." Raphael nudged his brother with a hint of exasperation.
The shoulder supporting his head flopped lifelessly so that his chin slumped forward, and Raphael tugged on his frame more insistently.
"What the...Mikey? This ain't funny - get your shell up."
But if his brother was faking it, this was a world-class manipulation. Mike's body was unrelenting as Raphael turned him over onto the mat. The red-masked turtle patted his cheek, and felt a layer of cold sweat.
Why the shell would he be cold? We were both pushing ourselves in here.
Confusion turned to alarm as he rested a hand on his brother's ribcage, to check for the most basic of life-signs. He hesitated for a long moment, before leaning his ear closer to his brother's chest. Mike wasn't breathing.