Smile; It's Only Fire

As she began to resurface, the first thing she registered was heat. It rolled around her in waves, transforming to liquid on her skin, to nausea in her gut. She was so thirsty, but somehow not. Her head pounded, and it wasn't just heat, she felt bruised. She managed to part her lips and her throat hummed, and she heard a feeble cry, and oh god was that her?

"Hey, sweetie." That was her father. Where was he? It was too hot to open her eyes. "Honey, can you hear me?" her father asked. She desperately tried to nod her head, lift her hand, something, anything. All that happened was another moan. It was something.

Her father's hand was pressed to her forehead. "It's all right, April. Don't try to move. You're burning up. Donnie and Mikey will be back soon and they'll help bring the fever down."

Fever? For how long? She couldn't remember anything. She breathed out what she hoped was a question mark.

"I bet you want to know what happened, huh?" Ahh, thank you, Dad. "Well, you and the boys got cornered by some Purple Dragons. You fought so well, it was amazing, Leonardo was so proud. But then one of them stabbed you in the shoulder and kicked you into a wall. You lost consciousness. The turtles brought you home to me instead of their lair because of our first aid supplies and so you'd be more comfortable. Then Michelangelo did that…you know, that psychic telepathy thing he has with you? And he realized you had been poisoned."

Poisoned? What? Why…why would they…

Her dad sighed. "So, Don's been working on an antidote and Mikey's been using his powers to see if he can bring your fever down and purge the poison. The problem is, it's, well, I guess it's affecting him, because he's developed a fever and you know how bad that can be for them…"

No! No, no, he has to stop! Dad, tell him to stop!

"And so they went down to the lair to gather some things. Don's equipment, herbs, I think? Leo said something about a…a vessel for Mikey to move the poison into. It's the least scientific thing I've heard, but we've had stranger things happen."

She listened to the small chuckle at the end there. She felt relieved. Mikey shouldn't take on her illness, she should try to get rid of it on her own. She whimpered again, breathing heat, and a cold washcloth was pressed against her face. It felt wonderful.

"Kirby?" That was Donatello. "Any change?"

"She might be trying to wake up," her father said. "She groaned a few times. I think she can hear us now." She heard him stand. "Michelangelo, you look terrible. Come sit here, you're about to fall over."

There was some shuffling. Mikey spoke just above her, and the weak rasp in his voice shocked her. "It's cool. Splinter gave me a chunk of rock. Said something about energy transmuting. I think I can manage that."

Oh, Mikey, April thought, what have you been doing to yourself?

He let out a huff of laughter and then his hand was on her forehead. "Ease up, April. I'm fine. Let's get you better first, 'kay?"

No! It wasn't okay! She need to fight this heat and help him!

"Don't even think about it," he said, "you did good enough."

Her father spoke up. "Are you reading her mind? Is she talking to you?"

"Heh. She's trying. She's stubborn. She can hear us and she's trying to fix herself. Silly."

"April," her father said in his "dad" voice. "You listen to the turtles. All right? Just rest. I don't want you putting any strain on yourself."

But Daaad!

Mikey laughed roughly. "Dude, she pulled the But Dad whine on you!"

"I figured she would. That's my little girl."

From her other side, she heard Donnie grunt. "Okay, here's some IV fluids. Mikey already closed her shoulder wound up, nothing's infected. But getting her hydrated and cooled down is imperative. Mikey, you got that malachite stone?"

"Right here, dude." Suddenly, he coughed and gasped for breath. Then there was Leonardo's voice. "That doesn't sound good. Don, you don't happen to have an extra oxygen mask, do you?" There was an odd, intense thumping sound. Mikey sounded awful as he seemed to struggle on an inhale.

"I got it." That was Raphael. There was more movement. The only sound was Mikey's breathing. "Donnie, gimme that. I know what to do."

More shuffling, more movement, and then something hissed, and she listened to Mike take a shuddering breath. Then another, and again, until he sounded okay. "Cool, okay. Thanks, Raph."

"I'm keepin' this nearby," came the tense reply. The hissing turned off.

"Whatever keeps you happy. Donnie, lemme know when you're set."

April felt the edges of plastic on her lower face, then more hissing. Air flooded into her mouth and nose. Cool, beautiful oxygen! She breathed, and breathed, and it was much less scorching.

"There we go," Don said soothingly. "Deep breaths, April. Okay, I'm going to give you the IV fluids now. You're going to feel it here and here," and he tapped the inside of her right elbow and the back of her right hand. She wished she could nod. She hummed instead. Why couldn't she open her eyes? Oh, right, it burned.

The tiny bites from the needles were nothing compared to the heat inside. Mikey laughed grimly. "Dude, the needles hurt less than her fever. She's, like, on fire. She can't even open her eyes." April felt the coolness of the washcloth again and moaned in near delight.

"Okaaay, aaand we're good," Donatello said. "Mikey, do your thing. Leo, can you-"

"I got it. Mikey, I need to keep my fingers on your neck to check your pulse. Raph, keep that oxygen on hand. Everyone ready?"

Her father's voice sounded small and scared. "It'll be okay, right, guys?"

"Yup," came Mikey's immediate reply. "Okay, I'm holding the malachite in my left hand; Splinter said pull with the right and flow out with the left."

"You sure you don't need me to do the mantras?" Leo asked, as if it were a frequent question. And Mikey responded as if it were. "Dude, no. Not unless I pass out totally. Really. Lemme do my thang." And April wanted to laugh.

She heard him take a deep breath and exhale, and then she felt his mouth close to her cheek. "Here we go, sis. Let me in easy, okay?"

In her burning mind, April nodded.

There was silence. A long, hot, heavy silence. April felt herself crouched lower to escape the waves of heat. She was in red darkness. She burned. She felt her breaths turning to panic. And then a familiar leathery hand was gripping hers.

"Hey, there!" Bright blue eyes peered into hers. "I found you!"

She grinned and stood and threw her arms around him. "Mikey, I'm scared. What do we do now?"

Gently pulling away from her, he held out both hands, cupping a shiny deep green striated stone that was slightly bigger than one of her hands. "Put your hands on this. Cup it like I'm doing. Capture all the heat you can and channel it. I think the stone can take it."

She frowned. "Can you? I mean, aren't you acting as the channel between me and the stone?"

He gave a lopsided grin. "Does it matter? You're in trouble. We need to help you. That's all that matters."

"Oh. Oh, Mikey, I don't think-"

"Hey!" he said, in a low, sharp tone that made her instantly stand straighter. "Don't go pulling that on me, April. I'm a ninja, I can handle myself. 'Specially with this sort of thing. Don't you dare back out on me just because you're worried for me. You're family." And his eyes turned a shade darker, and he was frowning at her with a scary focus.

"Okay," she said in a tiny voice. When he grinned, she felt relieved. She placed her hands on the wonderfully cool rock and breathed deeply.

She could feel all that heat gathering at the back of her head, and she stared at the malachite so she wouldn't have to look anywhere else, and she felt a small, steady line of heat drop through, down her arms, through her hands. A tiny, faint red sheen began to overcome the green on green shine of malachite. She bit her lip.

"Keep going," Mike was saying. "Keep going, because Donnie is administering an antidote right now."

"I don't want to hurt you," she gasped, burning and burning.

The malachite was tinted red all over now.

"You aren't hurting me. Stop it." But his voice was getting weak, and her own psychic senses were screaming at her. She wanted to yank the stone out of his hands and do it all herself. He snarled and tightened his fingers. "Mikey!" she snarled back.

"Just keep feeding it, April!" And his voice was definitely weak, something was very, very wrong. She glanced up and felt horror slam into her.

Mikey looked almost gray; his eyes were glassy, his teeth gritting in what looked like agony, his breaths coming short and fast. A sob of fear almost choked her. But he leaned forward, touching his forehead to hers, and she struggled to calm herself. The heat inside her was building, but so was the heat inside the malachite. She watched as the skin on Mikey's hands began to blister slightly.

"Mikey, I can't…" she gasped. "Please, you're in pain, I can't…"

"April," he panted, "Shut up and keep going."

And she had rarely if ever heard him so serious. Somewhere beyond everything, she heard Raphael yelling, heard Donatello yelling, and right in front of her Mikey was shaking so badly that she grabbed the stone and moved some of her fingers to his hand, stepping closer, trying to lend him strength she didn't have.

"We're almost there," and his breaths were coming out in small gasps. She felt his psychic form begin to fade; she realized the others, in the physical world, must be trying to pull him away from her.

April gathered as much energy as she could and screamed, pushing that heat out into the stone. There was a sound like thunder, and a flash of white, and a sudden burst of blue electricity, and she felt nothing at all.

April's eyes flew open without her control. Sweat was cooling on her skin; there was a hissing in her ears. She pulled off the oxygen mask and coughed. Her father was there, taking her by the shoulders, but she squirmed to sit up. Fighting against him, she gasped, "Mikey! Mikey! Is he okay? Guys?"

Her father looked pale and alarmed and grateful all at the same time. She felt her arms go around him. "I'm okay, Dad, I'm okay. I just need…where is he? He helped me…where's Mikey?"

Pulling away reluctantly, her dad helped her sit up and look at what was happening. April screamed, and he had to grab her arm to keep the needles in place.

"No!" she yelled, "no no no, Mikey, no! I told you…I told you!"

The malachite was on the floor, slightly melted on a couple of edges and slightly cracked through the middle. Three turtles were huddled around the fourth, administering oxygen. Michelangelo looked, well, dead.

"It's okay, April," Leo was saying, and she had to shake her head to clear it. "He's alive. He'll be okay. Donnie's got antidote to spare."

"Wait," she gasped, "did the poison…was he…"

"Yeah, just enough," Donnie said, a syringe in his hand. "But it's okay, I prepared for this. Mr. O'Neil, can you please prepare a cold bath?"

Her father glanced at her and ran out of the room.

April felt her head spin. Raphael was reaching up and touching her forehead. "Fever's broken," he announced.

"Mikey's got a high one," Leo added. "But you're feeling better, right, April?"

She could only nod.

Her father peeked back in. "The bath is ready, guys. I added plenty of ice."

"Good," Leo said. "April, you lie back down and let the IVs keep working. Raph?"

With a grunt, Raph reached out and gathered Michelangelo in his arms as Don pulled away the oxygen mask. Leonardo took the malachite stone. The turtles hurried out of her bedroom.

"Oh, honey." Her father guided her back down and stroked her hair from her face, "it'll be fine. You know they've had worse."

April just frowned and burst into tears.

He let out a breath and scooped her up, rocking her against him.

Two hours went by. Donnie came back in. He disconnected the IVs. Her father helped her eat a small bowl of soup. Donnie left. Leo came in and sat with her. She didn't feel like chatting, but he talked to her about their training, and Don's recent inventions. He summarized the latest episode of "Space Heroes." April knew he was trying to distract her. She just sighed and nodded a few times.

Leo reached out and squeezed her arm. "Mikey's being set up in the guest bedroom. Same treatment as you. But it'll be shorter and quicker. Raph still has his special connection, and he thinks Mikey expected all this and is working from inside himself."

April frowned. "I want to see him."

Leo shook his head. "April, you can barely walk. You need to rest." He glanced at her father, who nodded.

"I'm not on IVs anymore," April insisted. "I had soup. Someone help me get to the guest room or I'll just hobble there myself."

"April," her father warned.

She shot him a look. "He's family."

Her father and Leo stared at each other, then shrugged. "Well," her dad said, "I'll get dinner started for all of us."

With a smirk, Leo picked her up. She firmly set her jaw and looked out toward the hallway. Leo walked. At the entrance to the guest bedroom, April wiggled until he set her down. She approached the bed slowly, so as to not startle Don.

"Hi, April," Don said, not looking up from hooking up an IV. "Why are you out of bed?"

"Because I'm fine." April folded her arms. Raph grinned at her.

Sighing, Donnie stretched and turned to her. She maintained her stubborn face as he checked her temperature and pulse. She only had a headache, and she maintained it was "nothing." Don just sighed again, a light blush to his cheeks.

April sat on the edge of the bed and brushed the back of her hand against Michelangelo's flushed face. "Hey, you," she said softly. "I know you can hear me. You'd better be fine. Or else I'm coming in there and kicking your metaphysical ass with that rock."

His skin felt too hot, way way too hot. The malachite rock was on the pillow, and she picked it up, running her fingers along the crack.

"Mmm…don't touch it too long," Mikey's exhausted voice said. "'S'vibrating."

She could feel it. A literal thrum and a psychic hum that almost roared. Physically, the rock was still hot. "Ow," she muttered.

Mikey's eyelids cracked open and he hissed. "Mmmgh. Hot. Yeah. Put it down now."

She did, not sure if Mikey was referring to the stone's heat or the fever's. She recalled how her own eyes had burned. She turned and found the bowl of water and the washcloth, and she dutifully wiped him down from forehead to just above plastron. He sighed, eyes closing. She glanced at the IV needles. "Antidote and fluids?"

"Yes," Don said. "Should be probably half as quick as you. Then again, you were out for about two whole days and nights. Your dad said you started waking up late this morning. So, if the pattern repeats, we'll be overnight guests."

The smell of marinara sauce, melted cheese, and a melody of spices was strong. "Oh, Dad's making Mikey's recipe! Aww!"

"Yay" came Mikey's very tired voice.

"You're not getting any," Don reminded him.

"Save me a bowl, then," he croaked out, before hitching on an inhale, causing his upper torso to spasm. Donnie grabbed the oxygen.

"Uh, Donnie, did you remember to bring the-"

"Of course I did, Leo, it's already in my bag. It's always in my bag nowadays."

April bit her lip at the resignation in Donnie's voice. And then she realized he was talking about Ativan, which had stopped the seizures back on the spaceship. She swallowed her question but it chewed at her too fiercely. She just sighed. "How often does he have them now?"

The three turtles looked at her, eyes narrowed, and she knew that her question easily translated to Should we just call it epilepsy by this point? And nobody was exactly ready or willing to face that.

There was a long pause. Donatello rested his hands on Michelangelo's plastron, almost absentmindedly tracing the two horizontal parallel scars that hadn't faded. "I…for now I just want to call it a seizure disorder brought on by a specific trigger. He doesn't seize without cause, it only ever happens after he pushes the psionics too far or becomes overemotional during a session. Like when he sparred telekinetically with Master Splinter the first time. Raph about lost his shit."

"Only a little." Raph actually sounded apologetic.

"You threw yourself on him and wouldn't let us check on him," Leo pointed out.

Ah, April thought. That makes sense.

Her father walked in. "The pasta is ready. It's probably not exact. Michelangelo is the type of cook who doesn't always measure precisely when it comes to spices." He looked around, frowning. "Is…is he going to be okay? Can I do anything? I mean, I didn't just take psychology. I went to medical school. I studied neurology."

April smiled proudly. "We were actually discussing his seizure…disorder, I guess we're calling it. It only happens with the psionics."

Kirby just nodded. "So, how often does it happen?"

"That's just it," said Leonardo. "We can't predict. If he uses his powers, an episode may or may not happen. It could be twice a week, twice a day, twice a month!"

Kirby nodded wisely. "Okay, actually, that sounds exactly like Acquired Reflex Epilepsy. It's very rare among epilepsies, but from what April told me about how Michelangelo became psionic, it fits that diagnosis."

Silence filled the room. There was a cough, and on the bed Mikey was weakly pulling at the mask. Don helped him get it off and turned off the oxygen. Mike turned his head to Kirby and smiled. "That your pro-profess'nal diagnosis, then?"

Kirby shifted. He began to walk to the bed and the nods encouraged him. He stood, looking down at Mike, who looked up at him patiently.

"Well. I did take neurology courses, after all. And… it does sound right. This isn't official, mind you. It's not like I can put it in my professional notes, and you aren't my patient. But if you guys want my honest psychologist opinion… there are dozens of types of epilepsy based on reflex alone, even from internal mental processes. And it sounds like Michelangelo has one. Epilepsy is a very wide-open condition, you have to realize. It's so much more than what people assume."

Donatello looked yielding and slightly guilty. "Yeah. Thanks. I really am not a doctor. Thanks, Kirby."

Mikey pulled in a harsh breath, smiled widely, and held out a hand. "Yeah, Doc, much appreciated. I'm glad we know you."

Flushed, Kirby took the proffered hand and winced. "Your skin feels like its burning."

"Been through worse. Ever electrified yourself from inside out?"

Startled, Kirby looked at the others, whose eyes had gone dark and sorrowful.

He sighed, figuring he would hear the story another time. He shoved his hands in his pockets to avoid stroking his beard; he did that when he was nervous. "My recommendation is to just keep the Ativan handy, and maybe meditation sessions? Or some of those teas that Splinter makes? I'm sure there are plant extracts out there that calm seizures and migraines, right?"

Mikey, who had sunk into the pillow, breathed, "Bacopa…"

Leo blinked, "Wait, really? The Ayurvedic tonic?"

Mike smiled again. "Sensei…made some tea with it…after I told him I dreamed about it. Said I should drink it…every day."

He fell silent, and Donatello jumped to check his pulse. "Shit," he muttered, and got the oxygen mask again, checked the IV bags. He changed the saline fluid bag and hooked in a new bag.

"What is it?" April cried.

"He's just sleeping," Don said, relief flooding his voice. "It's a type of healing sleep Splinter taught us. We will automatically use it if we're in enough pain. The antidote is in his system completely. He just needs rest. Kirby, mind if we all crash in this room tonight?"

"Of course you can stay!" Kirby's stunned reply startled them all. "Like April said, you are family. Now, come eat. After all…it's a family recipe."

As they shuffled out, April stopped and turned back, running her hand over Michelangelo's forehead. His skin was slightly less hot. She sighed and pressed her lips to his freckled cheek. "Thanks for saving my life, little brother. You're so good to me."

His voice in her mind said cheerfully, Smile, April; it's only fire.

She smiled widely and squeezed his limp hand. And you, Mikey, are the sun.

In her mind, she sensed the ghost of his bear hug, and she watched his mouth for a small smile under the plastic mask. Yup, she decided. Family.

(Author's Note: I honestly have no idea how Kirby O'Neil is qualified beyond simply psychology, so I decided to expand his character. Makes more sense to me. Plus, he probably would know about all the mental delicacies that exist in the brain. I am hoping his actual professional knowledge is utilized in canon. The boys certainly have a lot of...issues that he could help with.)