The orange-masked turtle was trying to listen to what Leonardo was saying to the rest of the group, but his brother's words kept running together as Michelangelo struggled to keep his eyes open.
Shouldn't be this tired, he thought morosely.
Mike pinched his own arm in an effort to wake himself up further, and shifted on the couch so he would be sitting up straight. That was when he realized that the entire circle of faces was looking at him.
Shell, you're real subtle, Mikey.
"Sorry, Leo. You were saying?" Mike flashed his oldest brother a goofy smile, but it didn't feel genuine.
"Mike, why don't you get some rest, okay?" Leonardo suggested. "All we're doing here is talking and kicking around ideas."
"Yeah, why would you need me for brainstorming?" The weariness put Michelangelo on edge, and he found himself immediately turning defensive.
"No one said we didn't need you, Mike," the blue-masked turtle replied patiently. "I'm just pointing out that we're only theorizing. We wouldn't make any big decisions without you. With as sick as you've been, you have to take it a little easy."
"No one's kicking you out, bro," Raphael added. "But you have the option to kick yourself out if you need to."
"I'm not going anywhere until we hear back from Greg about Brandon," Mike replied stubbornly.
"You think Heff's not gonna catch up with Brandon unless you stay up waiting for him?" Raphael returned.
"I won't be able to relax until I know everyone's in one piece. I'm fine, so you guys are free to lay off," he finished a little sharply.
Rebecca's fingers played across the surface of the skin on his arm, and Michelangelo felt apprehension in her touch. He met her blue-green eyes without speaking, then glanced back at his brothers.
"I'm grouchy, all right? I can admit it," Mike allowed. "It's been a rough couple of days, and I really don't want to abandon ship until we hear from Heff. If I accidentally nod off, can you resist giving me a tongue lashing?"
Michelangelo tried to ignore the way Leonardo and Raphael glanced at each other, and focused on Donatello instead. The purple-masked turtle looked skeptical, but he didn't make an outright objection to Mike refusing to rest.
That's right, just let me be, and I'll crash when I have no other choice.
"Well, then...as I was saying," Leonardo started once more. "It may become necessary for us to consider shelter that's outside our immediate comfort zone. No one can deny that we're putting ourselves at risk by staying in one of these populated buildings."
"You say we gotta think about leaving, Leo, but where are we supposed to go?" Raphael wanted to know.
Michelangelo watched the red-masked turtle's gaze track over to Karina, who was holding a momentarily contented Olivia in her lap.
"We have the plane," Donatello said quietly. "At least...I think the Gulfstream should be fine. Greg's been keeping it out close to Newark."
"And there's the small issue of getting there," Leonardo reminded him. His dark eyes flicked to Calley.
The young woman cleared her throat. "A lot of the bridges are completely closed to traffic, and even if they weren't...the sheer volume of people trying to escape Manhattan would make it extremely difficult. We heard that motorized vehicles aren't getting off the island yet."
"So we can't go home, and we can't get out of the city. Where exactly does that leave us?" Jenna wondered.
"You guys know that Marc and I will go to any length to protect you," April mentioned.
"And we're grateful, April, but you can't do that forever," Donny said quietly. "There's a good reason we live underground. The stakes are higher now than they've ever be-"
The purple-masked turtle cut himself off as a now familiar rumble overtook the room. Mike was on his feet with everyone else in a flash, ready to run to the closest doorway.
That's what you're supposed to do, isn't it?
Mike's heart continued racing, even after the short tremor ceased. Silence filled the air for a couple of seconds, before Olivia inevitably started whimpering. At the same time, Mike suddenly felt Tiger's claws digging into his leg. The feline appeared to be trying to climb up his limb.
"Ow! Raph, get your cat before she mauls me!"
Raphael bent down near the floor to pry the cat off of Michelangelo's leg, and scooped the animal up in his arms. The rest of the room let out a collective exhale, as it seemed the quake had been extremely minor.
"So was that-" Leonardo began.
"Aftershock. A small one," Donatello filled in.
"Are they all gonna be like that?" Raphael asked.
Donatello shrugged. "I can't predict them, bro."
"It only reinforces the fact that we need to get somewhere safer," Karina murmured.
"Yeah, but how?" Jenna repeated.
"It sounds like we're going to have to wait things out for a little while, until we can find out more about the condition of the rest of the city," Leonardo said thoughtfully.
"And there's the Battleshell to consider too," Donatello offered. "Provided that it's still in one piece, I'd kind of like to find it."
Calley made a face. "I'm sorry we had to abandon the van, Don."
Donatello waved her off. "It wasn't your fault. I just don't want to leave it to the elements indefinitely. It'd be nice to have the Battleshell back."
"Gotta second that," Raphael muttered. "You and I have put way too many hours into that machine, Genius."
"What about a boat?" Mike asked. The thought had occurred to him out of the blue, and he blurted it out without hesitation.
"What about it?" Raphael returned gruffly.
"We could use one to get off the island," Mike replied. "We can't drive. But why couldn't we use the water?"
"We'd have to find a vessel first," Leonardo said slowly, his glance circling the room. "But with some help from the others, it would probably be feasible. It's simply a matter of getting all of our heads together. Obviously we're not going anywhere for right now, so I think we should be getting some rest."
April took that as her cue to begin setting up sleeping arrangements in separate areas of the apartment. The space wasn't enormous by anyone's standard, but it was still generously sized for a New York City apartment, almost rivaling Luke and Kat's loft.
Or it did rival it anyway, Mike thought sadly. I can't believe this has happened to them. Will Luke ever get to keep anything he loves?
Michelangelo's eyes traveled to the gathering darkness outside, while the others started to settle in further to the apartment. The orange-masked turtle wasn't interested in moving presently. The burst of energy that had struck him when the tremor had started under their feet now seemed like a distant memory.
I'm starting to wonder if I'll ever feel completely normal again. I can't stand having everyone up in arms over me, but I can't blame 'em either. If it was one of the other guys under this…whatever it is, I'd be doing the same thing. What I wouldn't give for two days in a row where I could breathe without any issues. There's got to be some kind of relief up ahead. There just has to be. Even if it takes a bunch of needles to get there, I've got to bite the bullet and go through with it. I'm sick of being sick, and I'm sure the docs are tired of it too.
There was a coded knock at the door, and some of the activity in the room ceased.
Greg! I hope he brought Brandon back with him.
Michelangelo braced both arms on the couch to rise, but Rebecca got to the door much faster than he probably could have.
I shouldn't be answering it anyway, huh? I could just imagine a neighbor's reaction to getting a look at me.
He saw Greg enter the room as he'd expected, but the man had come alone.
"Sorry I took so long. Getting anywhere quickly is sort of out of the realm of possibility at the moment," Greg volunteered.
"You look exhausted, Greg. Did you catch up with Brandon?" Rebecca asked.
He nodded. "I'll tell you guys all about it, but I need to do a few things first. I'm dying to get out of these shoes."
As the sandy-haired man took another step, he stumbled precariously against the wall.
Rebecca surged forward at the same time as she cried out. "Donny!"
The purple-masked turtle shot past Michelangelo like a blur. "Greg, are you all right? Do you feel dizzy?"
"I need to sit down," he admitted.
"Before you fall down," Donatello finished. He efficiently guided Greg to the couch that was opposite the one on which Mike had been sitting.
The orange-masked turtle inched closer as Donny dropped to his knees on the floor. "Heff, are you okay?"
The man offered Mike a reassuring smile. "'M fine. I've just been going, going, going...when I probably should have stopped at some point."
Donny shook his head. "Probably, Heff," he said pointedly. "Becky, can you grab him some water?" Donatello directed the question over his shoulder, then turned back to Greg. "Are you experiencing anything besides dizziness?"
"My stomach is in danger of imploding."
"Does that mean that you're hungry, or that you're about to throw up?"
"I couldn't eat anything," Greg said quickly.
Donatello reached for the man's wrist, and timed his pulse. "Your heartbeat is a little irregular, and you look flushed to me. Can you sit up further for a minute? I just want to get your outer layer off."
Michelangelo reached for his friend's shoes, while Donatello helped remove his thicker shirt. Greg fought to sit up completely, but Donatello stopped him.
"Just relax for a few minutes, Heff. Everything else can wait," Don told him.
"I want to fill everyone in," he replied insistently.
Michelangelo saw Becky coming out of the corner of his eye, and made room for the woman to get to Greg.
"Get some water down, and you can tell us what you know about Brandon," Donatello instructed.
As the man sipped out of the sport-cap on a bottled water, Mike felt someone else enter the room, and looked back to see Leonardo.
"Is everything okay?" Leo asked at once.
"It will be," Don answered. "Greg just appears to be suffering from some exhaustion. The prescription for that is pretty simple."
"Sleep," the man croaked.
"Exactly," Donatello said kindly. "Did you get enough water?"
"For now," Greg replied. "Brandon is okay. He's still in the neighborhood of the Civic Center; he crashed at FBI headquarters last night. Bran told me he was waiting for a cab when the initial quake hit. He started off on foot, and got sidetracked helping a few people. After he started, it was hard to quit. He's been working alongside some rescue teams that are focused in that vicinity."
"He's off playing hero," Mike commented. While the rest of us are just sitting. Shell, I wish I was with him, he added inwardly.
"They've kept him busy," Greg continued. "But he's in good shape, and he was happy to know that everyone is okay. Brandon never had any luck getting through on the phone."
Donatello rolled his eyes. "I hope the difficulty with communications can be resolved sooner than later. The lack of reliable contact is only hampering the effort to put the pieces back together."
Greg shook his head. "They're not even close to finding real order. I heard that the National Guard is being called in, and a city-wide curfew has been instated."
"I hope that can cut down on some of the violence," Leonardo murmured. "Then again, after dark we're pretty handy in that department ourselves."
The man pushed his way upright despite the way Donatello protested. "Please don't even think about it, at least, not for the next couple of nights. We just got everybody back together. The last thing I want to do is worry about something happening to any of you out there," Greg finished with a surprising amount of emotion.
Leonardo looked a little surprised, but then nodded slowly. "Given the circumstances…you're probably right."
Michelangelo looked at Greg closely as the man leaned back against the couch.
"You don't know what it was like, thinking that Luke was dead," Greg said quietly. "I can't take any more stress on that level for a while."