A/N: Reposted to fix grammatical errors!

Chapter 4: The Reluctant Traveler

Mikey was always moving. From the moment his feet hit the floor until he flopped across his bed in exhaustion, he was a constant force of elated energy. Actually, his brothers would argue that even in sleep Mikey never stopped moving, having experienced his unconscious slaps and kicks when they reluctantly allowed him to bunk with them after a nightmare. Donnie would jokingly refer to an object's velocity and direction at a specific point in time as 'states of Mikey' instead of states of motion.

However, that was before Donnie's second mutation and kidnapping, before the accident left his arm a mutilated mess, and before painkillers and muscle relaxers brought his world to a sloth-like halt. Though the medicine served its purpose of numbing the pain as his arm healed, it came with side effects that left Mikey's senses floating in suspended animation.

For instance, Mikey's pretty sure when Raph calls his name, it shouldn't sound garbled like he's underwater, but Mikey simply yawns as he unsuccessfully blinks the drowsiness from his eyes and trudges into the kitchen for breakfast. With each step, the kitchen table seems to stretch farther away. Mikey frowned. Was he walking backwards instead of forward?

"Mike, what're you doing, bro? Come on and eat."

Mikey blinks slowly at Raphael, before looking down at his feet. Wasn't he just walking toward the kitchen a minute ago? When had he stopped moving? He frowned for a moment, trying to understand through the mind fog. He yawns again as the need to understand is forgotten.

"'Kay," Mikey answers after a slight delay.

Walking to the table and taking a seat feels painfully slow for Mikey like his feet are dragging heavily through thick molasses. He wonders what molasses tastes like. Is it maple syrup? Or is it bitter like—

"Mikey, ya gotta eat something. Those pills will make you puke on an empty stomach." Raph's voice penetrates the fog once again.

Mikey looks up at his red-clad brother, who stares at him with eyes darkened by exhaustion. Raphael is his vigilant protector at night during his night terrors. He feels terrible that he is the cause of his older brother's lack of sleep. Raph told him it wasn't a big deal, that he was only there to make sure Mikey didn't hurt himself when they happened. Mikey doesn't remember the night terrors, but imagines they must be bad based on his sore throat in the mornings.

He looks down at his breakfast. A bowl of cereal, slightly burned toast, and orange slices. A pinch of guilt settles in Mikey's stomach. He knows how much Raph does for him and it's painful to see the look of worry in his older brother's eyes.

"Mikey?" The tone of concern in Raph's voice makes his stomach ache a little more. He plops an orange slice in his mouth to quell the guilt knotting up his stomach and, despite the haze of medication, he remembers how to smile.

"No eggs? I was starting to warm up to the extra crunchy variety," Mikey retorts innocently.

Raph's stern expression softens into a resigned smirk. "Just eat your breakfast, goofball" he grumbles, sliding a glass of water towards Mikey.

Mikey snickers. An annoyed Raph was better than a worrywart Raph. "Can I have some coffee?" Mikey asks casually, eliciting a quirked brow from Raph as he raises his own cup of joe to his lips.

"No," Raph answers flatly, taking a swallow from his mug.

"Why not?"

"You said it tasted like dirt," Raph reminds him.

Mikey opens his mouth to retort but immediately closes it. Why did he want coffee anyway? He racks his foggy mind for an answer but comes up short. "I want to know what molasses tastes like," he offers after a moment's hesitation.

Raph tries not to choke as he gives Mikey an incredulous look. "Coffee doesn't taste like molasses."

"Have you ever had molasses?" Mikey challenges.

"No, but—"

"Then how do you know it doesn't taste like molasses?"

Raph stares at him blankly before sighing. "Eat your cereal, Mikey."

"Fine," Mikey pouts as he resigns to his brother's insistence. The brief conversation leaves him drained, the effort of coherent conversation a taxing endeavor, but it also wards off the blanket of medicine-induced fog, if only for a moment. Polishing off the orange slices with the lick of his fingers, he eats his toast before staring at the challenge before him.

So we meet again… Mikey frowns, not necessarily at the bowl of cereal but the condemning spoon sticking out of it. He never knew such disdain could be reserved for a spoon. Mikey believes in equal opportunity, fostering the same level of contempt for spoons and forks alike since his arm injury turned mealtimes into a cumbersome and embarrassing task. Every spoonful was a struggle to transport food from the utensil to his mouth without making a mess with his trembling limb.

"You gotta start using it more," Raph lectures, noticing Mikey's hesitation.

"You said it needed to heal more," Mikey counters, waving his disfigured arm for emphasis.

Raph rolls his eyes. "I meant no heavy lifting, you know that. Lifting a measly spoon ain't gonna hurt ya." Mikey huffs at his older brother. "I'm going to bring Sensei his breakfast." Raph announces, rising from his seat and draining the last dregs of his coffee. "That bowl better be empty when I come back."

Mikey sticks out his tongue at Raph's departing shell, then turns his attention back to the daunting task at hand. He gives the spoon a suspicious glare before reluctantly picking it up. With the grace of a newborn giraffe, he scoops up some cereal, his arm betraying him with tremors. Just as victory seems within reach of his waiting lips, disaster strikes. Cereal cascades back into the bowl, milk splattering the table like a culinary crime scene. There's only a dribble of milk in his spoon and even that only makes it to his chin with his shaky aim. He lets the spoon clatter to the table with a frustrated sigh. Pity and depression threaten to pull him back into the fog but he bats it away with forced enthusiasm. "Can't keep a good turtle down," he mutters to himself, before cradling the cereal bowl between both hands for stability and lifting it to his lips, relishing the overly sweet nourishment.

Closing his eyes, Mikey's mind drifts, the medicinal fog descending once more, as time slips through his fingers like grains of sand.

A jolt of pain in his arm and he's suddenly in the dojo, Raph guiding him through his physical therapy. The disorienting effect of the medication leaves Mikey struggling to keep up as an hour is mere moments to him.

"I didn't finish my cereal," Mikey protests, his voice tinged with confusion as he tries to shake off the fog.

Raph shoots him a concerned look, but decides to ignore his complaint and focus on the task at hand. "Stay with me, Mike. Push against my hand as hard as you can."

Mikey complies with a slow nod. As they continue, he wills his thoughts to focus in this moment with Raph in the dojo, no matter how painfully fast Raph seems to be moving his arm through a range of motions. Is he in an alternate dimension? It's the only explanation for why Mikey's other hand duplicates into a deck of afterimages as he waves it back and forth. An alternate dimension where everything moved at warp speed and he was stuck in slow-motion. "This really… sucks," Mikey's voice teeters just as the blanket of fog beckons him again.

"I know, little brother," Raph sympathizes as he massages a lump of muscles in Mikey's forearm. "Just one last rep, then you can take your meds and rest."

"Okay," is his quiet response as he yawns, closing his eyes for a moment.

Mikey finds himself in front of Donnie's bedroom door. He doesn't remember walking here from the dojo but somehow he hopes there are answers behind the door.

"Master Splinter?" Mikey whispers as he peeks his head in the room. Sensei started using Donnie's room for meditation shortly after Mikey was released from the medbay. If Mikey was in some parallel universe, then surely this world's version of Master Splinter would be as old and wise as his back home and be able to help him sort everything out.

When he receives no answer, he steps slowly into the room approaching his father's lotus position. "I… I don't belong here. Everything keeps moving so fast and I just want to go home," Mikey explains. "My head feels like cotton candy but without the yumminess. Can you help me?"

With a lazy gaze never known to the old ninjitsu master, Splinter offers Mikey a smile of sympathy. "My little Nikkō* is not feeling well." His voice is a lilting lullaby as he reaches out a hand to touch Mikey's cheek. "Go rest, little one."

"Mikey! What're you doing? I told you to stay in the den." Mikey jumps at Raph's annoyance as he spins Mikey around by his shoulders. "Splinter needs peace and quiet to concentrate."

Raph's face blurs through his teary vision. The weight of confusion presses down on Mikey, squeezing every ounce of happy-go-lucky out of his being. Maybe Splinter was right. Maybe he just needed to rest. Mikey's eyes close without his permission as he succumbs to unconsciousness.

"Going out in broad daylight! Are you crazy, Leo?! "

Mikey groans at the sound of Raph's booming voice. He opens bleary eyes to find himself wrapped in a blanket on the couch. No matter how far he reaches backward through the fog of his memories he can't for the life of him remember what happened. At first Mikey was okay with the ebbs and flows of this new dimension that looked like home but wasn't. But now he's tired, confused, and just wants to go home.

"Don't lecture me, when I'm the only one out there trying to find Donnie."

Mikey whimpers, sinking a little deeper into the worn concave of the couch as Leo's voice is just as loud and angry as Raph's. Blanket over his head, he watches from the safety of a fold in the fabric as his two older brothers continue their heated conversation.

Raphael lowers his voice into an angry whisper. "That's not true and you know it! We're doing everything we can to find him!"

Leo is less concerned about using his inside voice. "That's a joke! Splinter's holed up in Donnie's room staring at the wall, April and Casey are too busy looking for a lost human, and you're just a coward. Big bad Raphael, scared of a fight. Never thought I'd see the day."

"I ain't afraid of nothing! I'm trying to keep us safe but you're too selfish to see that."

"Selfish? Maybe if you actually cared about finding Donnie, you'd understand." And with those cutting words, Leo gives Raph a harsh shoulder-check before disappearing from Mikey's view. A door slams seconds later, no doubt Leo retreating to his room, the sound echoing in the lair, sending a chill through his shell.

Mikey feels like an intergalactic time traveler with a broken time machine as everything continues to happen around him and he, a mere spectator, is forced to watch, too slow to react. He wanted off this ride now. It's not fair because he is the very embodiment of particles vibrating at supersonic speed (that's what Donnie would say), a person filled with unyielding energy. His wit should be sharper, his body should be faster, his soul should feel… lighter.

He sniffs back tears as the blanket is removed from his head. Gentle yet calloused hands shift him into an upright position. His glossy blue eyes meet his brother's steady green ones.

"Mikey, hey… hey… what's wrong? Your arm hurtin' ya?" Raph implores as he takes Mikey's scarred arm into his hands ready to relieve him of any ongoing spasms.

Mikey wipes at his eyes but the tears keep coming. "I can't... I… Raphie?" He stares at his red-masked brother with eyes that are much too wide, afraid if he blinks time will be snatched from him again.

"Yeah, Mike. Talk to me. What's wrong?" Raph begs, his voice tight with fear.

"This dimension is too fast. I know you're not my Raph but, can… can you slow down? I can't keep up. And… and I don't want to be left behind. Don't want you to leave like Leo."

"You're makin' less sense than usual, bro. I am Raph. I'm right here, not going anywhere."

"Nothing makes sense," Mikey whines to this alternate Raph, who's crouched in front of him spitting rapid-fire words at him, causing Mikey's head to spin. "I was eating cereal just a few minutes ago, I close my eyes for two seconds and I was in the dojo, then with Sensei, and now I'm here!" His pitch rises as he chokes on his sobs. "I wanna go home!"

Raph is silent, and his lack of words scares Mikey more than his shouting match with Leo.

"Mikey…" His name sounds miles away as the fog returns.

"April?… Thank God you picked up. Casey isn't answering and I didn't know what else to do."

Drifting listlessly in a sea of uncertainty, Raphael's hushed voice is an anchor.

"Mikey's been acting weird… well weirder than normal and it's getting worse. He's usually good, ya know? Maybe a little depressed sometimes but he's been good. But now he's been completely spaced out. He remembers what he had for breakfast last week but can't remember what happened ten minutes ago. He sleeps a lot and when he's awake he just… sits there. Today he started bawling his eyes out saying he was a lost Intergalactic time traveler, then he… he almost bolted out the lair until I grabbed him… That's what I'm trying to tell you, it's freaking me out. You think your dad can help?"

Mikey lays on his carapace in bed, his head turned toward Raph. His dull eyes follow as Raph paces back and forth in his room like a windup toy that's wound two clicks too tight.

"Yeah, Mr. O'Neil, I'm still here. Yeah, he takes the painkillers and muscle relaxers three times a day. Casey said his mom used to use them." Raph continues to talk into his tphone. "If that's what's makin' him looney, then I'll toss all of 'em out." Raph's eyes widen at whatever Mr. O'Neil is saying to him. "…oh… right, right. That makes sense. So cut back gradually?… Got it. Thanks, I really appreciate this." Ending the call, Raph takes a deep breath before sitting on Mikey's bedside.

"Don't worry, little brother. I'll fix this."

Lethargy leeches onto his awareness and now Mikey can't be bothered to react to his brother's promise as the fog wraps its tendrils around him once again.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty."

Mike grunts at the sensation of knuckles tapping against his plastron as he yawns and stretches. Pushing himself upright, he hisses at the sharp pain that shoots up his damaged arm.

"Easy, big guy," Raph murmurs as he props Mikey against the headboard of his bed. "Besides the arm, how ya feelin'?"

Mikey looks at him for a moment before squeezing his eyes shut.

Several minutes pass.

"Mikey, you're being weird again…" Raph warily trails off, only half joking.

Mikey takes a chance opening one eye and then the other. He was still in his room with Raph. No more time traveling! "Dude, you have no idea how good it is to be home!" Mikey exclaims, ignoring the throb of his arm as he crashes into Raph's plastron. Raph carefully catches his fastball embrace with open arms, anticipating Mikey's jubilant affection.

Raph pats his carapace signaling the end of the impromptu hug. "Glad you're back to being regular weird. Those pills really did a number on you."

Sitting back, Mikey tilts his head. "Huh?"

"Apparently, those painkillers and muscle relaxers had you doped up outta your shell." Raph smirks but there's a hint of relief in his posture that Mikey overlooks.

"Huh. So I wasn't a time traveler?"

"No," Raphael deadpans with a frown.

"And I wasn't in a parallel universe where everyone was moving and I kept getting left behind?"

Raph's eyes soften. "No. No one left you behind. The medicine just had some… side effects, that's all. Mr. O'Neil says we gotta ease off the meds slowly so they don't make you sick."

Mikey nods absently as he tries to piece together what was real versus what was a twisted combo of painkillers and an overactive imagination. "So, you and Leo weren't really fighting then. It was just the meds?"

Raph looks away from Mikey's imploring gaze. "No. That happened." His short and tight-lipped response is enough for Mikey not to press the issue.

In a moment of self-reflection, Mikey feels the haziness that once clouded his senses recede to a light tiredness instead of the heavy blanket of delirium that debilitated him for the past few weeks.

"Dude, I feel light as a feather!" Mikey grins and Raph can't help but smile back.

"Come on," Raph says, cuffing the back of Mikey's neck. "I made eggs and pancakes."

"Awesome! I get to play my favorite game—treasure hunt for eggshells!" Mikey sniffs the air with theatrical flair as they leave his bedroom. "Ah, the aroma of slightly charred dreams. Reminds me of that time we battled the fire-breathing dragon in the kitchen. Good times, good times."

"That never happened."

"Bruh, it totally did!"

The rest of the day went by without incident. Mikey's arm hurt twice as much but he'd take the lesser of two evils if it meant not being weighed down and mentally manipulated by the side effects of medication.

Late that night, Mikey dreams. He dreams of carnivorous teeth tearing through his flesh, heavy clawed hands crushing his plastron, and red glowing eyes that seek the dormant fear within him. He punches and kicks, anything to get away from the teeth, claws, and haunting eyes. When his efforts are futile, Mikey screams.

Mikey opens his eyes and the mysterious creature is gone but his arms are clamped in place at his sides as he finds himself upright in his bed.

"No! Let me go!" Mikey shouts, his throat raw and sore.

"Mikey, please. I know you can't hear me, but please, just stop. I'm tired." The admission is a guilty whisper of desperation in the crook of Mikey's neck.

The words are gibberish as Mikey grapples with his surroundings, but he will always recognize the safety in the one who spoke them. "Raph?" Mikey calls out breathlessly in his lamp-lit room. The bear hug around him loosens as Mikey fumbles around to find Raphael sitting behind him in his bed. The gentle glow of the lamp highlights the harsh lines of exhaustion around his brother's unmasked face.

"Mikey? You're… you're awake?" Raph is just as shocked to see Mikey awake as Mikey is to find Raph in his bed.

Both brothers stare at each other, with only the sound of Mikey's ragged breathing as a backdrop.

"You never wake up in the middle of night terrors," Raphael says more to himself than to Mikey who's currently still shaking, the predatory red eyes searing their residence into Mikey's brain.

"Nightmare," Mikey mutters the word, and it's all Raph needs to hear to pull his baby brother close so Mikey's carapace fits snugly against his plastron. Mikey leans back into the familiar position that only comes during particularly troubling times to offer comfort.

Despite Raphael telling him about the night terrors he suffered since Donnie's abduction, Mikey hadn't remembered his dreams for weeks. Mikey had a feeling he wouldn't be soon to forget this dream of the red-eyed demon.

Several minutes pass as Mikey's breathing finally levels out and falls in sync with the rise and fall of Raphael's plastron. "So what was so bad that you pinwheeled me in the face?" Raph inquires gruffly, giving Mikey's plastron a small pat.

"I was gonna die." Mikey's voice trembles as nightmarish images loop in his head. "If I hadn't woke up, I was gonna die."

"Hey." Raph pats Mikey's plastron again this time in the more authoritative way that big brothers tend to do to ensure they have their little brother's undivided attention. "Nothing's gonna happen to ya. I won't let you get hurt again, I promise."

Mikey wants to ask him what he means by 'again', but he doesn't and simply takes solace in his brother's embrace. As he fights a losing battle against sleep, Mikey worries that maybe being an intergalactic time traveler wasn't so bad, as long as he never had to see those sinister red eyes again.

Translation

* Nikkō = Sunlight/Sunshine

A/N: Thanks for reading! Until the next chapter, have a great day on purpose!

~Poetique