Look At Us Now
Donnie isn't sure exactly what fascinates him so much about the youngest in the family. It was always that way. He thinks his very first memory was of all four of them lying on a huge quilt on the floor, where their father set up random toys. Mikey grabbed the teddy bear immediately and then looked directly at Don, and Don remembers hobbling unsteadily toward the bear and the grinning face above it. He fell to his knees and Mikey giggled, a sound that echoed over the walls, a sound that made the other two brothers a few feet away stop tussling for a moment. Then the bear was shoved into his curious face, followed by a "DAH!" and so he smiled and said "MI!" and there was that giggle again.
As they began to grow, they seemed to be psychological opposites. But where Mikey babbled until he couldn't find the words, Donnie was silent until he could fill in a word, and it would earn a brilliant grin and sparkling blue eyes, and at that point the toddlers would grab hands, and little Donatello decided it would be one of his best inventions ever, this bond, this pact, where he would assist his younger brother when he needed it, and where little Michelangelo would entertain his older brother when he needed it.
He remembers that shortly after they all turned seven, Mikey started having nightmares and night terrors, and Splinter could not figure out why. But Donnie's fascination with science and the world was growing and growing and he knew instinctively to wrap his arms around his only little brother, making soothing sounds until the tears slowed, until Mikey begged him to keep the nightmares away with his "smartest brain" and Donnie promised, and when Mikey fell asleep Donnie looked up and saw the older brothers watching him, and all three nodded firmly at each other, a wordless pact to keep the nightmares at bay, be it with brain, with muscle, or with skill.
He remembers the science textbooks Splinter brought to the lair, when they were eight or so. He remembers escaping to a quiet room, reading through the books so thoroughly that most of the time he had no idea what was happening around him. But at some point, a cheerful, scratchy, rounded-guttural tenor voice called his name in the loudest, whiniest way possible, and he looked up for an instant, seeing his wide-eyed fidgeting brother at the door before returning to the book. Then that grinning face was a couple of feet closer. And a little more. And a little more. Until a green three-fingered hand plopped down to obscure the pages; he sighed and looked up directly into summer-blue eyes that begged him to play.
Sometimes Donnie put the book down with a very exaggerated fake groan, making Mikey laugh in delight. Usually they immersed themselves in a role-playing game, Mikey's wild imagination conjuring all kinds of worlds. Sometimes they wrestled or played tag. And sometimes Mikey sat on the bed or couch or big chair snuggled up to Donnie, and asked to be read to.
Donnie decides those memories are the most treasured.
He pulls up one such memory as he bites his lip hard enough to bleed and continually whispers "I'm so sorry" while pulling the straps just a little tighter. He doesn't think he's actually heard; the fever is rich and roaring and the infection took root hours and hours ago; all he can do now is keep irrigating and cleaning the massive wound and checking the fluid bag and the antibiotics and listening to the same whimpers of a boy terrified of nightmares, now terrified of his own mind in the daytime.
A month ago they began small rituals with Splinter, the two of them, privately. Donatello wasn't sure if Leonardo knew, as he had been so proud to be Mikey's "psychic lesson teacher" from the start. Sometimes Leo was too proud. Sometimes Raph teased him about it just to start a scuffle, which inevitably Mikey or Splinter broke up, unless Don actually heard them from his lab.
But Don kept to himself how he felt about Mikey's development over the last year. He knew that Raphael had become a little smothering in his desperate promise to keep their baby brother safe; he knew that Leonardo had gone a little overboard in wanting to train with their baby brother's supernatural skills. Master Splinter had wisely stepped back unless Michelangelo called for him, especially since that first telekinetic spar and its consequences. Splinter had been filled with guilt for days.
But then Mikey came to both Splinter and Don for a chat, asking if Don could help him learn about medical science with supervision from Splinter. That is, a telepathic session where Don would allow Mike access and describe and explain along the way.
It was going wonderfully, this personal little session with just the three of them. Mikey even started casually assisting Donnie in the lab, ignoring Raph's teasing about clumsiness and explosive screw-ups. Don looked forward to the once-weekly rituals. Mainly he enjoyed listening to his brother chatter on about absurd things, and the newest comics, and the small devices around the lab.
Up until one day ago, Donatello's world had been somewhat perfect, if he considered being a giant mutant turtle living in the sewers average. A day ago, the fight against a Purple Dragon gang was going well. And then one Dragon had run at Donnie with a suspiciously shiny kunai, and at the last second, Mikey jumped in front and took the dagger in the side up to the hilt.
The world slowed down and Donnie watched with horror as the man yanked out the dagger, now slick with blood, and went for Don himself again, to be tossed away by a growling Raph. In slow motion, Raph let out a roar and took down another Dragon aiming another kunai right at Raph, while Leo did the same to yet another one with another kunai. Donnie didn't even have time to wonder why they specifically had shiny, iridescent kunai daggers while his little brother collapsed against him and blood splattered and flowed and both his older brothers were yelling and battling furiously. Donnie's mind was autopilot overdrive, and he dragged an unconscious Mikey backwards to the roof's edge, out of the way, and found a clothesline and grabbed what clothing he could, pressing against the long deep slice and watching each colorful cloth item turn red; he managed to call out to Leo about getting home. And he barely listened anyway as he took Mikey in his arms and ran and jumped and he didn't quite remember how he got home, just that at some point he was running through the lair with a battered Raph and Leo behind him, and then he was in the infirmary shouting at someone to keep pressure on the wound while he grabbed a suture kit and that he needed a blood donor.
His medic mind took over completely. He watched his fingers work, stitching the wound, hooking up IVs, pulling blood from Raph. He watched his hands skillfully bandage and wrap as a tiny bit of blood seeped through. He was callous and business-like, as he worked the oxygen because the patient wasn't breathing properly, no time for fear or panic, and Leo would have to make Raph calm down and stop shouting because Don, well, he was too busy saving lives to soothe anyone right this second.
And then suddenly, that adrenaline began to drain. He felt his legs shake so he held on to the edge of that makeshift hospital bed. He finally allowed himself to look at everything through the eyes of a brother instead of a scientist.
"I need," he gasped, "for both of you to leave and calm yourselves down. Let me get Mikey fully stabilized. You come back in when I say so." And his voice was firm, despite his limbs shaking, and then there was silence, and he looked at Mikey, really looked at him, and pulled up one of those memories and clung to it.
It's a day later and Donnie is crying because he's not sure if the straps around his thrashing brother's legs are too tight, and he's trying to avoid being struck by hands flailing in hallucination, so he doesn't tighten the torso straps, yet, but at least Mikey isn't throwing himself off the bed and his frantic sobs are finally turning to whimpers as the sedative kicks in. Donnie wrings out the cold washcloth and presses it to his brother's sweat-soaked face, rubbing his shoulder, shushing and humming. He has left Mikey's arms free for personal reasons; he doesn't like having to fully restrain any of his family, and Mikey isn't a danger, and Mikey really hates being tied up. He asked that nobody come in for at least a couple of hours, and it's only been one hour. So he has time. He feels the shaking and jerking stop, feels the ragged breathing even out. He keeps wiping the cloth, and when his brother's head turns to him and stays, Don takes a deep breath and smiles, looking directly into glassy bright blue eyes, probably reacting to the IV painkillers and sedatives as much as the pain breaking through.
"It's okay, Mikey," he said, and he thinks it too, just in case, although he isn't sure if Mikey's psionics are even available in the state he's in.
The venom, identified as Xever's, coating those kunai blades, was meant for all of them. It was meant to kill them slowly, as their father watched.
And Mikey's body is still reacting, and he uniquely most likely still feels like burning from inside out even as Donnie has been carefully flushing it. One of the stranger side effects of Mikey's psionics is how infections and toxins affect him while the psionics work to get rid of them. Mikey's nervous systems apparently go into overdrive, and the overwhelmed neurology amplifies his sensory processors, his pain receptors, his anxiety. The psionics apparently take over for neurotransmitters responsible for pain relief. The psionics amplify attacks on the foreign substances. The psionics overwhelm in their attempts to fight back. At the same time, Mikey's brain, unable to keep up, isn't given an opportunity to let out natural pain relief like endorphins, dopamine, or serotonin, leaving him raw and vulnerable to pain and shock. For his body, it is either shut off and lose consciousness quickly, or suffer unbearably until his brain can pull consciousness away or manage to release any pain relief. Donnie knows that he needs to keep fast-acting painkillers and sedatives in his medical bag, because if a person's natural pain relief is blocked or shut down, it can be gruesome. And, they learned, with these alien M'Kari psionics, there is little opportunity to allow the mind to set up defenses or offenses before that unusual alien neurology takes over, startling parts of the brain in the process. In response, the mind is forced to shut down, or give in and be pulled along, which, as Donatello discovered, leads to hallucinations and very bizarre reactionary movements, physically and telekinetically. When it comes to Michelangelo being infected enough to cause fevers, the family has learned to restrain their poor brother and make sure nothing caught on fire, flew across the lair, or exploded.
"It's okay, Mikey," Don repeats, out loud and in thought, and Mikey seems to respond to one or both, because he draws in a shuddering breath and blinks very slowly like a cat, and his eyes seem to clear up a little.
His hand seeks out, and Don grabs it, and keeps his hand with the cloth cupped against his brother's cheek.
Michelangelo shivers and groans. "D-Donnie…"
"I'm here, Mikey, I'm right here. I won't let anything happen to you. Can you understand me?"
"Y-Yeah…" And Don breathes, relieved, and smiles. "Good. Okay. I'm flushing out Fish-Face's toxins from your body and I'm keeping the wound as clean as I can. I had to pull out the stitches once the bleeding stopped so I could irrigate. Do you understand?"
Mike nods, weakly, and smiles a little. "Your brain is so awesome, Donnie," he whispers, and as his smile widens, the cannula tubes shift just a little. Don grins widely and says, "I know," hoping to make his only little brother laugh a little.
That laugh is more like a huff but it lifts Don's spirits just enough, and he works the wet cloth down, wiping Mikey's neck and shoulders, because he knows how awful it feels to be so hot and feel cool relief.
"You're really hot," he mutters.
"You're not so bad yourself."
And Donnie laughs, because he was waiting to hear a joke, and joking means that Mikey is doing better, that maybe the psionics gave him back his body's ability to release endorphins and dopamine and serotonin.
There's a knock behind him. "Time's up, Donnie," Raph says sternly. "You can't keep him all to yourself."
"Flatterer," Mikey coughs out, and that brings three sets of footsteps running, and Don finds himself surrounded by two turtles and a rat, and he gently releases Mikey's hand. On the other side of the bed, Splinter takes Mikey's hand and nuzzles his cheek. "My son, thank Quan Yin you are awake."
"Probably," Mikey tells him jovially, weakly. "I saw her in a couple of dreams. Visions. Whatever."
Splinter is pressing a hand to Mike's forehead. "Have you managed to bring down the fever, Donatello?" he asks, just like a worried father.
"I'm working on it, Don says. "I'm pretty sure the poison is just now clear, judging from the way Mikey's acting."
They all nod, knowing all about how the psionics will put battle before defense in Michelangelo's body.
"I'll be fine," Mikey says softly. "This is nothing."
Raphael, in a now familiar move, puts his hands on both Mike's shoulders and stares into his eyes. "It is not nothing. And I don't give a shit how many times it's nothing, kiddo. You need ta quit getting yourself halfway killed all the time."
"No pinkie promises, bro," Mike says. "I can handle it." As a growl starts low in Raph's throat, Mike adds, "Besides, if Donnie had gotten stabbed, it'd have been worse. I'm not totally up on my medical education by Donnie Brain yet."
Raph and Leo glance from him to Don, eyeridges raised. "Whoops," Don shrugs. But he grins.
Sighing happily, Mikey closes his eyes. Don immediately checks pulse and breathing, sensing what is coming, and thirty seconds later when the seizure starts, he automatically slips one hand under Mikey's neck, remembering how Mikey somehow linked them enough for Donnie to be able to sense when something was wrong with his only little brother, he supposes the same way Raph got linked to telepathically speak with Mikey the strongest and the way Leo got linked to meditate with and soothe Mikey during lessons. Don leans in directly above Mikey's head and whispers comforting words, thinking them as hard as he can, and he feels it all rush out and get pulled into his only little brother, because he suddenly senses that the seizure is ending and that Mikey will be exhausted and chilled, so he quickly asks Leo for a second pillow and then he rubs circles on Mikey's plastron, humming with voice and thought.
A memory comes, and it is one of Mikey asking him to "translate" a physics textbook. They were twelve years old and Mikey just kept smiling no matter how big or strange the words became. He just kept smiling, no matter what, and it made Donnie throw an arm around his only little brother and pull him closer until Mikey's head lay on his shoulder, and he felt so protective and smart and happy and good.
Don now feels the muscles under his hands relax almost too eagerly, and as Mikey pushes against the restraints and begins to cry and apologize for things so far beyond his control, he presses his forehead against his only little brother's and murmurs that once he is well, they will go over that new copy of Gray's Anatomy that April brought, and compare it to turtle anatomy, and then go practice on a dummy.
In his mind, there is a whisper as soft as a breeze, and it says, Your brain is so awesome, Donnie. Love you. And he thinks back, Your brain is awesome too. Love you Mikey. And when his only little brother settles into a slightly uneasy sleep, Donnie sits there all night and keeps the nightmares away.