Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

TMNT Universe: 2003 4Kids Cartoon

Prompt: Author's Imagination

Chapter One: Who Cares? I Do.

They knelt there for a long long time, and the only sounds were the wind and Mikey's muffled sobs. Donnie was staring a little too hard at the blood crusted against the woman's wrists.

"She promised she wouldn't," Mike whispered, startling him out of his introspection. "She called me beautiful. She promised she would stay because I was there."

Donatello licked the cold sweat off his upper lip and rested his hand on his gentle brother's head. "It's never simple, Mikey. The part that pushed her to hurt herself was incredibly strong. You've been there."

Mikey ran his thumbs over the bloody slits. "I guess... I always had parts in me even stronger."

"You had us," Don nodded. "This woman had just learned that she had no one, that her friends were fake and actively trying to hurt her. It's a harsh blow. She was in a very horrific state of mind when we found her, nothing you said could have brought her out of it."

"I wish she hadn't done it when we looked away," Mikey said. "At least wait til we were totally gone or something. Now I only feel guilty."

Donnie flinched when his brother growled.

Mikey was backsliding. 

The coldness in his voice was back, that flat dark tone that warned the family of another slide.

Don was already mentally setting up the futons in his lab, preparing that very particular nootropic herb tea. If the episode lasted longer than usual he would need to get Leatherhead involved. His hand, still touching his brother, moved to his hand and grasped it until Mike dropped the dead woman's arm and weakly squeezed back.

Don sighed. "Mikey, look, we can't do anything, and there will be police here soon. I want to get you home."

Michelangelo looked right into his face and Donatello caught the pure understanding in those glimmering eyes.

"Okay," Mikey whispered, on the verge of crying. Donatello had to physically pull him up and start walking him to the manhole cover. Once underground he grabbed Mikey's hand tightly, and breathed in relief when he felt a strong squeeze .

They didn't let go of each other's hands, not even when they entered the lair and the others stared at then, expressions shifting from confusion to fear to comprehension to worry.

This time it was Leonardo who brought in the futons and Raphael who took Michelangelo by the shoulder to distract him with movie choices while Donatello prepared the anti-depressent tea. They sat in the living room and watched movies until Mike began to fall asleep. Raph turned off the television.

During that very first night one year ago, they had all slept in the lab, that had become the unspoken rule for the past year.

Donnie suspected what Mikey's nightmares would be about, and he made sure to keep his little brother pressed close to him. It hadn't been their first suicide victim but it had been the first to see one of them. Mikey's deep sensitivity and his empathic nature wouldn't let him forget. But they could help him let go.

Chapter Text

TMNT Universe: 2016 Paramount Film

Request: Author's Brain

It took a long time, but finally there were footsteps and a soft knock on his door, and Mikey grabbed a pillow and crushed it to his face so he wouldn't scream when he cried again.

"Mikey, I'm coming in," and it was Leo, and he was not really surprised.

Michelangelo kept the pillow against his face and jerked when gentle hands tried to pull it away.

"You need to look at me, Mikey," Leo said. "Please."

He sucked in a breath. Leo's voice was hoarse and too quiet, too raw. It wasn't asking for obedience at all. Leo was in pain.

Michelangelo whimpered. He had caused all of this.

He let his brother take the pillow and then fresh tears welled up when Leo wiped his eyes with his thumbs. "I'm sorry," he gasped, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Leo sounded like he was smiling. Mikey finally opened his eyes, and yes, Leo had a tiny smile there. It made Mikey even more miserable.

"For screwing up!" His molars ground together. "For goofing off to make that woman laugh and letting the crooks get hits in, and for you guys getting hurt, and..."

"Hey, no, stop." Leo's arms were around him, pulling Mikey's chin to his shoulder. "Raph is all right. I'm all right. Cuts and bruises. And you saved that woman's life. You saved her from a panic attack. You got her name and number. And that's one more human who accepts us. That's a good thing, Little Brother."

Nuzzling his shoulder, Michelangelo sniffled. "So you're not mad? Raph's not mad?"

Pulling back just enough to bump foreheads, Leonardo grinned. "Right now, Raph is lounging on the couch enjoying painkillers and watching a boxing match. He's the one who asked me to check on you. Nobody's mad. Donnie is worried."

Mikey blinked. "About me? Why?"

Leo tilted his head. "Because you've been depressed."

Mikey jerked back, eyes wide. "What? Pfft, no. Dude, I don't get depressed."

The look Leo gave him was heartbreaking. "You have no idea, do you."

Mike scowled at him. "I'm not sick, Leo. I'm fine."

Leo didn't even blink. "No, Little Brother. You're not fine. You can't even see how you're falling apart."

And now Mikey was feeling angry, and the new tears felt like fire in his eyes. "Shut up, Leo, you don't know what you're talking about."

He wanted... he wanted to hit something. He didn't want to be here anymore. The hollow numbness was being filled with a strange prickling heat.

"At least let Don check you over," Leo was saying.

"I'm not sick!" And he was yelling and to his ears he sounded cracked. "I'm not depressed! Shut up! Leave me alone!" And those images came again, the knives against his skin, the rush of wind and miles below to the ground. He scuttled back onto his bed, dropping his head into his hands. "Leave me alone, I'm tired."

He heard his brother get up and whisper his name and it sounded like a sob. He listened to Leo leave. He drew his knees up to his chest and rocked back and forth. He felt himself start to shake.

"I'm fine," he whispered to the silence. "Everything is fine."

Chapter Text

Donatello was dangerous. It was something Mikey always knew and never forgot, but sometimes it still surprised him. 

Being both ninja and eclectic scientist seemed to make Donnie a superhero, although the last time Mikey brought that up, Don just grinned and waved it off as another comic book fantasy. 

"Ugh, you like fantasy too, dork," Mikey had huffed under his breath. 

Michelangelo guessed he'd never truly known how dangerous until Don saved his life one February day, from a bizarre new predator in the sewers. 

They had argued. Mikey had wanted to drag Donnie out of the lab, Donnie had wanted to finish some work. Raph hollered at them both. Don literally shoved Mikey out of the lab. Leonardo thrust a skateboard into Mike's hands and told him to get some exercise. 

Rude. Mikey hid his deep hurt under a scowl, trotting out of the lair. 

Deciding to take a whole new path down tunnels might've not been a good idea, but his head was cloudy, his emotions clogged and writhing behind pain and frustration. 

This new tunnel was freezing and its atmosphere purred with supernatural energy. Mikey rarely bragged about his empathic clairvoyance, built up during his teens after that Ninja Tribunal deal, content to bother his family with being the Turtle Titan and - shout it! - Battle Nexus Champion. The psychic stuff was for hero work, even though it came in handier with ninja stuff. It rose up from the depths of his limbic system and swept across his mind, drawing in the abstract strangeness of the foreign tunnel and making him pause. There was something alive down here. Sentient. 

Intelligent. 

Michelangelo had a bright yellow flash of warning in his head a second before something warm crashed into him, knocking him off his board. 

The back of his head and the lip of his shell hit the ground first, straining muscles in his neck and shoulders. Consciousness flickered as vertigo struck, and that was all it took for his "secondary" nervous system - the newly powerful Chi that ran through his spiritual body and fueled his ESP - to kick in and take over. He found himself halfway conscious and halfway in the astral plane, with a reptilian beast the size of a wolf pinning him, growling down into his face.

"Guess I stumbled into prime territory," Mikey whispered, slowly moving backward while projecting an aura of calm. The ground was like ice. The creature must have a unique physiology to live like this-

His senses bounced around. Oh. It had fur. It gave off heat. 

It was a mutant, his psychic mind supplied helpfully. 

"Donnie would get a kick out of this…"

He'd scooted all the way against a wall, when the creature shook its head and snapped at the air. It looked like a komodo dragon crossed with a gray fox. It turned narrowed yellow eyes up to him, licked its jaw, and sprung forward, claws gleaming. 

Michelangelo barely had time to yell, and then pain speared him across his plastron and the world whited out. 

His spiritual body fell unguarded into space. 

-

Mikey became aware of himself floating in a world of whiteness, stripes of color fluttering around. He felt completely stripped and realized he wasn't in his body. 

"The lair," he murmured. "I need to get to the lair. I need to tell Donnie."

The universe sped towards him and folded. Don had talked about how it worked, after they had read books about tesseracts that April had given Mikey to feed his need for fantasy. Mike opened his mind and saw the lab, saw his exhausted brother slumped in his desk chair, massaging his head. 

"Shouldn't have yelled at him, why did I actually push him? I just… I shoved him, I hurt his feelings… "

Mikey moved toward him. "It's okay, I forgive you."

Don inhaled sharply and looked right at him. "Mikey… you're astral projecting." He seemed awed.

Mike's form faded slightly, a deep full pain bursting from somewhere and manifesting as red slashes on his spirit body. "Don... something bad happened. I need you. I need-"

Pain exploded.

Pain.

He screamed. Donnie screamed. Everything went black and he felt like he was being thrust backwards through a vaccuum. 

There was agony. His plastron felt cracked open, flesh torn. He couldn't see. Voices. Donnie. Donnie sounded furious. Donnie's chi was dark and blazing and he could sense danger. Donatello was fighting something, beating it back. 

Michelangelo slipped down into nothingness.

-

Mikey was dreaming.

He watched as Don ran out of the lab yelling Mikey's name, startling Leo and Raph. Don grabbed a duffel bag and led them to a Sewer Slider. "Mikey astral projected, he's hurt, I've got his signal!"

They found the tunnel, the creature, they battled it off Mikey who was in a pool of blood. Don's face twisted in a rage and his bo connected with the monster until it was unconscious. Or dead. Its chi had gone dark.

Raphael had set the duffel next to Mikey and was applying gauze that soaked red. His entire plastron was red.

Leonardo assisted, his chi calm but tight. "This is the first time he's astral projected like this, isn't it. It appears it takes a severe emotional push. All that training and all it took was a mental emergency." His mouth quirked up. Leo rambled when he was scared sometimes, worse than Don.

They carefully lifted Mikey's body into the vehicle. Donnie took the wheel, still looking enraged and upset. Michelangelo's astral form folded and appeared in the in infirmary. He looked at himself on the medical bed, finally realizing how the pain connected. His brothers worked quietly, their chi tight and flickering with deep worry. Mikey just stared at his body, skin grayish, blood pumping with alarming speed.

He recalled Donnie's rage, sensed it now as a current under his chi fueling him. Mikey gently pulled on their mental connection, that unique link he had only with Donnie, and pushed the power of their love into his weakening body, to slow the bleeding, to speed the healing. Donatello's fury, the science in his brain pushing every action and reaction, the logic and reason nudging aside emotion enough to work, to be dangerous.

The rational terror of losing his best friend.

The energy in the air rippled and Mike's chi responded by humming loudly until he shivered, his form turning misty and cold. He let himself fall back and be plunged into white silence.

-

And after a while, he opened his eyes.

Mike didn't realize he was in his body for a few seconds, and didn't register the voice of Donnie, the hands of Donnie, more frantic as the milliseconds ticked.

The pain struck, like a flash flood through the painkillers. His mouth opened and his throat vibrated with a wheezing whimper.

He tried to cough.

Someone lifted his head and then a straw slipped into his mouth. Reflexes ordered him to suck, and the cool water was like a salve. He hummed his appreciation.

When the water was gone, he sighed and finally focused.

"Can you hear me?"

He smiled, hummed again. "Yeah, Don, jus' needed a sec."

"Too much astral travel, huh?"

"You know me, I'm a curious cat."

Donatello grinned down at him. "You must be satisfied then, because you're back."

Mikey chuckled dryly, then coughed. There was the patter of desperate feet.

"Is he awake? Mikey! Fuck, you scared the shit out of us."

A gentle hand on his head. "Gods, Mikey, it is good to see your eyes open."

Leo hadn't even reprimanded Raph for cursing. It must have been bad. Really bad.

Don's hands were running along his torso. "... probably did some psychic healing. We all donated blood but your body has been recovering faster than I'd anticipated. It's amazing, Mikey, you're amazing."

Raph gave a low chuckle, but his voice was wet and cracked. "Knew you were always holding back."

Leo had taken a seat next to his head, palm still pressed to his forehead. "You've been in a coma for three days but I've sensed you floating around. Little trickster. You'll run spiritual circles around us soon."

Michelangelo soaked up the praise and it settled into the grooves of his pain like opium. That was all he ever asked for. After the death of Master Splinter, his need for emotional validation had grown, and so had his maturity. Meditation, ADHD style, had let him finally uncover that surprising psychic force from deep within, something that not even The Ancient One had realized. All he'd wanted was to be acknowledged. His own brain wiring had done that, after nearly two decades of mutation. The side effects of migraines and seizures were vaguely manageable. They kept in contact with Fugitoid who helped provide treatments. Life had calmed down and intensified and he kept riding its wave to stay in the flow, something his brothers were finally realizing fully.

His fire had been noticed. His light was shining through the dark. He was the beacon.

"Ey, Donnie?" he whispered, still floating on love.

"I'm here, Mike."

"You're still a superhero."

A soft laugh. "Get your rest, bro, I'll be testing that super brain of yours later."

"Of course you will." Mikey just smiled and reached for his hands, which Donnie grabbed and squeezed, tickling his fingertips along the palms like a secret code.

Dorks.

Chapter Text

(-There is nothing more to learn. Return the body.-

-To the above?-

-The above.)

A platform appeared from beneath the underground, carrying a shape.

-

Donatello programmed in more sensors and lights at least ten miles beyond the lair. Should have done it last week after the disappearance, but schedules had conflicted. April and Casey on their honeymoon, Splinter going to Japan. No one had expected this.

He always came home, after all. He always called. His Shell Cell was always charged, after that time he had scared everyone by leaving it uncharged when they were sixteen and the upgrades hadn’t happened…

There was movement in one of the most distant tunnels.

Donnie’s entire body tensed.

Last time it had been rats and homeless humans. Something in the back of his head tingled now, that weird inexplicable intuition of pure knowledge. Not like Mikey’s telempathy, or Leo’s intuitive tracking, or Raph's kinetic instincts. Pure knowledge. He knew. He knew!

Maybe it had been a childhood spent together waiting for their brothers to stop butting heads.

Donnie jammed his headset on even tighter.

“Leo, I need you back at the lair. Raph, go to Tunnel 237.”

He felt his voice shake.

His blunt muscled brother growled in his ear. “You kidding? That’s what, how many miles? Thought you said--”

“I was wrong. Raphael. Please.” He hated to beg. “I. I see something.”

There was sheer silence. He and Casey had tweaked those headsets so not even static could happen.

In the past week, Donatello had not said that he had seen something with conviction.

Leo came through, gentle and firm and exactly like a big brother. “Donnie. We’ve never been near Tunnel 237. It’s a completely unknown danger. I need you to be certain.”

In the hidden spotlight, a shape began to twitch against the ground. There was no mistaking that curve.

“Leo, I am ninety-eight point nine percent certain. Raphie, please.”

He heard Raph inhale sharply, because only their little brother called him that.

The twitching stopped.

He held his breath.

“I’m heading there,” and he heard Raph’s motorcycle as it growled with him. “Probably take thirty minutes.”

Half an hour, was that enough time? Donatello didn’t believe in faith. He believed in his brothers. He believed most in one brother. That was his version of faith. His brother smiling.

“I’ll be at the lair in ten,” Leonardo added. “Are you sure you need me there and not with Raph?”

Don swallowed. “I need to stay at the monitors. I can’t leave, I don’t want to miss anything. Someone needs to maintain the lair. And someone needs to…needs to…”

“Easy, Braniac take a breath,” Raph rumbled in his ear. “If it’s…if it’s him, I’ll find 'im. Ya know I will.”

Donnie squeezed his eyes shut until hot tears streamed from them. “Couple days ago, I modified the Shell Cycle so the engine will go even faster.”

He heard Raph’s grin, he heard it.

The cycle roared smoothly in his ears.

“Make it twenty minutes.”

Donnie covered his face with one hand, reached out to press his other hand against the screen. “Thanks, Raph.”

Through the headset, he heard Leo say, “I’m home, Donnie. I’m coming in.”

He didn’t turn away from the monitor that held all his hope, not even when his oldest brother's steady hand carefully landed on his shoulder.

-

Raphael had understood exactly what Donatello had meant and it had made the chill shooting up his spine that much colder. It was the second to worst case scenario.

"What if we find him and he's hurt? What if he's hurt so bad we can't fix him? And the helmet was already fogging with his tears and frantic snarled gasps. He went faster. "Please, Mike, be okay. Be okay…"

He was there. 

Light from… somewhere, he wasn't sure, illuminated the obvious body of his little brother laying on his side, his carapace scratched, chipped, and scarred in new ways. Raph nearly fell off his bike in his scramble to reach him. 

"Mikey… holy shit, kid, where were you? We've been worried sick and-"

Turning his brother onto his back, in the soft light, Raph let out a soft curse and swallowed the bile that rose to his throat. 

Michelangelo was covered in scars. 

Surgical scars. 

"Oh, fuck. Oh, no, Mike, no no no no."

The very thing they had been warned of their entire freaking lives, twenty years of "Never get caught" screaming in Raph's mind. He gathered Mikey to him like a broken doll, his face crumbling at the sight of so many sealed wounds, pock marks all over Mikey's arms. Injection sites. Mikey was fully unconscious, skinny, pale. 

Raph managed to get his brother on the Shell Cycle and fumbled with his helmet. 

"Don," he rasped. "I got him. I'm on my way."

"... how bad?" Donnie's voice trembled. 

"Bad." Raph swallowed. "He… He was experimented on."

"Oh god," and Don sounded broken. "We'll prep the infirmary."

Grunting in affirmation, Raph began a much slower ride, carrying the most precious cargo in the world. 

-

Leonardo paced near the lair entrance, trying to control his breathing. Had they ever come up against this? What if it was even worse than Raph had said? 

He barely stood at attention when Raph came in carrying Mikey bridal style. He just felt the color drain from his face as Raph looked at him with such helplessness. 

"Oh, Mikey," Leo breathed, running a shaking hand across his little brother's head that was dark with bruises in various colors, dents and marks. 

Donatello peered out from the doorway to the infirmary, set up in a corner of his lab. He moaned at the sight. "Get him in here."

They laid him on the gurney, all three knowledgeable in enough areas of first aid to do something. The equipment they had procured from junkyards, abandoned clinics, and even the Utroms would hopefully be enough. Mikey was hooked up and breathing slowly, and under the harsh lights he looked even worse. His plastron had been cracked and sealed several times, his limbs had been cut into and sutured, even his tail looked bruised and scraped. And that by itself made Raph growl. 

"They… they raped him?"

Leo closed a hand around his arm. "Let Donnie check."

The mutation, the unpredictable mix of turtle and human DNA, had given them a strange mix of anatomy, the cloaca splitting into a pouch for their genitals along the soft cartilage between their thighs and an anal opening that their tails covered for protection. Why they had kept their tails was still a mystery. Donnie examined the bruised tail, and then the ring of muscles which did appear inflamed. He gently spread open Mikey's slit, to check to make sure his penis looked all right. 

There were signs of sexual manipulation. Donnie had to breathe through his mouth to keep from crying. 

"They're dead," Raph snarled. "I'll kill them."

"We need to find them," Leo murmured. 

"He needs to wake up," Donnie whispered. 

They gathered around the makeshift bed and held their brother's hands, stroked his face, talked to him. 

Mikey didn't wake up.

- 

Five days after Raph brought Mikey home, the machines in the infirmary began blaring. Donnie was there first, and when he made the noises stop, he noticed that Mikey's eyes were open. 

His own eyes widened, tears gathering. He grabbed his brother's hand and leaned in. "Mikey? Mikey, can you see me?"

Mikey smiled, his own smile, the soft languid grin that had always set them at ease. "Hi, Donnie. I knew you bros would find me." His voice was raw and hoarse and Donnie had never heard anything so beautiful. 

He yelled for the others, who appeared as if they'd been waiting. Mikey had rarely gotten such tight desperate hugs. He just smiled throughout, and told them he loved them, and thanked them for bringing him home. 

But his breathing was shallow and his hands were shaking and his fingers curled in on themselves, and his voice was too soft and every muscle in his body was far too tight. Leo was the one who realized and understood that something was horribly wrong. 

-

Chapter Text

It was the way they moved, he would later realize, that gave away their inhuman nature. 

...He shivered in his sleep and felt his brothers squeeze in even more tightly...

...One of them, white gloves past the elbow, is coming at his face and he jerks against his restraints. But the latest sedative is still flowing through him swift as a river. It's useless, resistance is futile - heh, references are fun - and his scream is just a whine. The hands that look human hold his head to the metal and ugh it's cold cold cold and someone else is coming at him with wait is that a scalpel oh shell no no no no nope nope nope noooooo-

-He jolted, mewling awake, a hand slapping to his forehead to feel the scar, and a brother slapped a heavy arm across his plastron. Felt like Raph. Wait, it was a little too long… Donnie. 

Indeed, soft hazel eyes blinked open and gazed at him as Donatello lifted his head. "Mikey, you okay? Nightmare?" When he didn't get a response, Donnie shuffled up a little so Leo's arm fell away from his waist. He reached out to close his hands around the scarred fingers pressing against the scarred forehead. "Mike, stop, don't rub it too hard, remember? You don't want to break up the cellular structure like last time."
Michelangelo cleared his throat, sighing. "Third degree burn, yeah."

"See? You are learning." Donnie's smile was so kind it almost hurt. "Hang on, lemme get that bottle…" He reached over their heads, over the turtle pile, grabbing a half full bottle of green Gatorade. Nearby, on the array of screens, there played an infomercial for exercise equipment, an adult cartoon, an old Kung Fu movie. Mikey blinked dully and just barely noticed the lip of the bottle in his sight. He sipped until Don took it away. It just burned his throat. 

Donnie carefully touched the triangular scar right in the middle of his forehead with a practiced fingertip made for delicate precious and fragile things. "The drugs appear to have cleared your system, but you said you still feel like something is in your brain?"

Mikey swallowed. Ah, yes, the moment he hadn't been waiting for. 

"It's a lot of somethings," he whispered, still hoarse. 

"I'm listening," his brother said. 

That made him smirk. "I think I can read minds. I think I can make things move. I think I can see things with my mind."

"W-what?"

Michelangelo smiled wearily. 

On TV, an anime style telekinetic blast leveled a building. 

The other two channels abruptly switched to static and flicked off.

Donnie stared at his eyes. For the first time since he was rescued, Mikey found himself grinning in that sly, knowing way, his pupils widening.

A vein in his forehead twitched. The bottle slid against the floor in a way it couldn't have, hitting Donnie's foot, cycling back to Mikey's hand.

His head began to hurt. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to his brother's, as much as it stung.

"Fascinating," Donnie whispered.

Mikey tried not to cry.

Chapter Text

Michelangelo squirmed out from under his behemoth brother and shook his head like a cat with itchy ears. "Still not funny, Raph."

He heard Raphael grumble in his Brooklyn Batman voice. "Welp, I tried. Yer turn, Donnie."

Mikey blinked. What turns?

He lifted to his knees, frowning, feeling that familiar soothing touch of the family scientist's fingers on his face.

"Come on, Mike, you didn't even laugh," and Donatello sounded so disappointed that a burning lump formed in Mikey's throat to join the block of ice in his gut.

He swallowed painfully and made himself stare directly into those golden green eyes magnified by tortoiseshell glasses. "S-sorry, Donnie. Guess I... I just have a... a h-headache." He had a violent headache. It threatened to hammer him into oblivion.

"Bullshit," Raph coughed.

"Raph," came Leonardo's growl.

Donnie's doctor stare became more intense. "Well, depression often causes headaches. It's an illness, after all. In the brain."

Mikey screamed in his head. He'd been doing that too much. He wanted to yell, again, that he Was Not Depressed, For Pizza's Sake, Leave It Alone, but Leo had figured him out and now nobody would leave him alone and he just wanted to scr-

"Damn, never heard the kid growl like that before." And Raph sounded far far away.

"Mikey, you're shaking," Don murmured.

He was shaking. His head hurt even more. His skin was tingling. His whole body was suddenly light and floating. His brothers' voices were clouds.

"Something's wrong," Leo said tightly. "I think he's gonna pass out."

Donatello had flipped down his goggles. "More than that," and his voice was high with alarm, "I think he's having a seizure!"

Michelangelo almost burst out giggling. Oh was that what it was? Was that why he felt like bursting out of his skin violently?

He felt his eyes roll back in his head, felt his whole body go sideways, and then he felt absolutely nothing.

It was bliss.

He pried open his eyes, seeing the blurry living room ceiling, feeling scooped out and utterly fatigued. His muscles ached and trembled like he'd spent a whole day in the ha'shi in rotation, with two hundred backflips. Michelangelo heard himself moan and decided it was pathetic.

A cool damp cloth was wiped over his face. "Easy, Mikey," came Donnie's voice, soft and frightened. "Don't move too much." Donnie's face came into view right above him, and he looked desperately worried.

Michelangelo scrunched up his face. "Cn't move anyw'y. Wwhy hurting?" His raw voice startled him.

He felt Don slip a hand under his head and he blinked, barely registering the sports drink held to his lips.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched his older brothers approach carefully. Then he realized he was lying on the couch with his head in Don's lap. Donnie was trembling a little. Why was Donnie trembling?

The voices of Splinter, April, and Casey came through clearly. And then Casey was crouched right in front of his face, staring staring at him.

"Yeah," Casey said. "He definitely had a seizure. He's made himself physically sick... I've seen it before with the mentally ill kids we pick up. How long did you say he's been depressed?"

Mikey frowned and wanted to snap that he wasn't depressed but Raph was there, making him drink that orange electrolyte drink.

"I... at least two weeks," Leonardo mumbled. "I finally talked to him last night and he denied everything. But he's been quiet and tired, he's either sleeping too much or barely sleeping at all, he feels feverish after training. And. And he hasn't been eating much."

Casey bit his lip and ran his hands up and down Mikey's arm. Mike felt too weak to question it. Nobody joked about the food thing and he found he didn't care. Casey's warmth was soothing.

"His skin is dry but there's also dehydration. Do you guys regularly moisturize?"

"Got a few bottles of olive oil an' a big jar o' coconut oil," Raphael spoke up, "and Mike's the one who reminds us."

The new detective shook his head. "There's no evidence of oils on his skin or shell. Neglecting personal care is a major symptom. Could lead to cracked skin. We'll need to get you guys more products and keep him hydrated and moisturized regularly."

Mikey gritted his teeth. He was not depressed, it was not making him sick, he was fine - and he found himself too weak to protest, damn it.

He had finished half the drink before the raging headache slammed into him and he began to cry.

"Aww, Mike, no, hey," and Raph lifted him into his arms as Don hugged him from behind. Leonardo grabbed Mikey's hands and pressed their foreheads together.

Michelangelo just sobbed himself into deeper exhaustion.

Maybe he wasn't fine after all.

Chapter Text

And he didn't dare listen to the shouts from behind him, he just ran, that was all he could think of, running and running. He needed to get away from all the pain inside him: his head, his stomach, all his joints: weights and chains of fire and ice, and he hadn't asked for it, he didn't know how to stop it...

Michelangelo tripped over a jutting pipe and stumbled, his legendary balance utterly failing him. In that desperate moment he didn't know what to do, so the fall was too hard. The way his hands and face slammed down with pulsing force scraping against the sewer wall and sewer ground was rough and dragging. 

He exhaled in a defeated whine. He couldn't even run away properly. He couldn't do anything right, not even take a fall. He failed at everything now, even failing.

Pushing himself up, Mikey sat back and wheezed, tears slipping into his mouth. Why did being so sad have to hurt so much? His head rang and began to pulse violently. His brain felt shaken. Flashes and shadows swam through his skull, causing strange little shivers. 

A violent throbbing sting rang up from his hands and cut through the fog to get his attention. He brought his hands up and stared. They were bleeding intensely, fingertips to wrists covered in a thick sheen oozing down his arms. He sniffled and tasted more blood. His whole face hurt.

He blinked. The pain... felt good. It was sweet. Like a warm blanket. It felt like a comfort. He licked around his mouth, his own blood like chocolate on his tongue. It was a beautiful beat, welling up from his veins, a drum playing a lullabye.

Michelangelo smiled.

When his brothers' voices reached him, he remained completely still, laughing inside. He felt the body pains fading slowly to the background in favor of the new whispering pulse in his mind.

The sound of rushing water was like static and music. 

Donatello realized he had already failed when they stumbled into a random tunnel and found Mikey. Cold water was ankle deep and there was blood swirling in whirling patterns.

His only younger brother, their baby brother, was sitting with his knees to his chest in bloody shallow water that almost reached his knees , his hands flowing blood over his arms. His nose was bleeding profusely, and Don noticed bloody scrapes on his chin and upper lip. There was a gash on his head, split diagonally between his eyes, ripping his soaked orange mask.

His bright blue eyes were glazed, dilated, and spacey. 

If he hadn't been sitting up... he might have drowned. 

Raph muttered a soft curse.

Swift and silent, Leo moved in, murmuring, arms gently around Mikey carefully, since that memory of his feral panic right before he ran away was fresh in all their minds. Mikey merely smiled, as if telling himself a private joke. A chill ran up Donnie's spine.

He watched Raph go help their little brother stand and walk through the rising water, since he knew that once back home, Don himself would be the one to administer the care. He took the lead back to the lair, and he swore he could hear Mikey whispering nonsensical things, but the others didn't say anything so he stayed quiet. The sloshing of water made the echoing silence worse. 

In the lab, they sat Mike on the cushioned table, Raph acting like a stabilizing pillar when Michelangelo swayed a little. Donnie swiftly took care of the facial wounds, but felt himself tremble a little when cleaning and wrapping his only younger brother's hands. Leo was cleaning the forehead gash, commenting about stitches. Mikey had not made a sound and Leo was worrying about concussion, infection. Donatello drew in a deep breath and went to examine. Yes, it would need stitches. Yes, Mikey had a mild concussion. Don wanted him to stay in the lab for a while.

And Mikey just smiled.

They helped him lie down and he was quiet as Donnie numbed the wound and began suturing. Raphael said something was wrong because Mikey was never quiet.

Donatello looked deeply into the clouded, faraway, wounded eyes of his baby brother, his only little brother, and he tried not to cry.

Because he knew that Michelangelo had welcomed the pain, had enjoyed it, had wanted it, and was hurting even more.

And Donnie knew he might lose his only little brother if they didn't do something quickly.

And Mikey just looked back at him, looked through him, and smiled. And his glassy eyes rolled back and slipped closed and he relaxed into unconsciousness.

This time Donnie cried, and Leo and Raph wrapped their arms around him.

Chapter Text

Donatello had finished typing in the most recent notes when his tech scanners gave a gentle alert. Relief flooded him and he turned, walking to the medical bed, smiling automatically.

His “patient” wasn’t smiling. It was to be expected. Don sat in the chair and kept his hands in his lap. “Welcome back, Mikey. How do you feel?”

Michelangelo gave him a deeply sad look that had become disturbingly familiar, eyes glazed. “Tired. Th-thirsty.”

Donnie nodded and grabbed a nearby water bottle. He slid one hand under his brother’s head, lifting it, and helped him drink. Michelangelo had always had a habit of not hydrating enough after his skateboarding adventures. Don giving him water was pure instinct.

When half the water was gone, Mike’s head lolled against Don’s hand, so the scientist set the bottle aside and lightly massaged the poor concussed scalp, and with his free he felt Mikey’s burning forehead, just to confirm the biosensors.

Mikey squeezed his eyes, groaned, clenched his teeth, and then widened his eyes. “Dude, I feel like shit. All I did was fall on my face.”

Donnie didn’t let his smile waver. “Well, you’ve got a high fever, since as it turns out, couple of your scrapes got infected. Including this one.” And he ran his finger down the diagonal stitches on Mike’s forehead, which the orange mask wouldn’t quite conceal.

“… oh. Is that why my right hand is throbbing?”

“Yup. Casey got us plenty of medicine.”

Mike licked his lips and swallowed a few times. Donnie bit his lip, took some deep deep breaths, and prepared.

Michelangelo stared at him, dilated and glassy and clouded eyes working puzzles. “I… kinda remember having another seizure?”

Breathe out, breathe in. Donatello smiled gently again and took Mikey’s hand in both of his. “Yeah, it scared Raph shitless and Leo lost color. April and I had to kick them out of the lab. That-that was yesterday. I think Raphie is calm now.”

Mikey jerked upright, before Don easily pushed him down. “Wait, a whole day? Doonnniieee, what did I miss? You guys didn’t eat all the pizza? Am I in toble fr running way? Will Sensei pu me ih the Ha'Shi? I don’t feel good, I don’t wanna!”

“Whoa, hey, hey, easy! You’re not in trouble, little brother, I promise. There’s plenty of pizza. Splinter is really worried for you. I mean, you came home with a gash in your head and a heavy concussion, you’ll be on bed rest for a while.” Mentally, Donnie was already cataloging those obvious slips in his brother’s language processing; that was very bad, and there was no way he could tell his family until he could get more information. He squeezed Mikey’s hand a little harder.

“Something else is up, dude,” and Mikey’s solemn voice jolted him. “You leaving somethin’ out, Donnie. There’s something really wrong with me and you nnn-know wuh-what it probly is.”

Oh damn it, why was Mikey so… so empathic? He had to choose his words carefully; Michelangelo had the weirdest intuition and creepily uncanny cunning insight. “Mike…Mikey, there’s a bunch of tests I still need to run to confirm, and and with our mutations there’s no telling how your neurology will respond…”

Those summer blue eyes narrowed and seemed to crack around the edges. Mikey grinned in a way that seemed predatory. “Yeah but you do got a theory. You have that look, Donnie. You already figured it out, it’s what you do. So spill. Tell me.”

He bit his lip harder. “Mikey, I really don’t think I can…”

But Michelangelo cleared his throat. And then his little brother pulled a trick from Don’s own book.“Do it, Donnie, tell me.” Shaking, sweating, horribly pale, still grinning, Mikey pushed himself up on his elbows and fixed Don with puppy eyes brightened by fever. “Do it, do it, do it, not gonna stop til you do it!”

Donnie’s mouth dropped open. “You cheeky brat, you… Okay, fine.”

Mikey produced that famous cheeky grin and lay back with a light huff. “I always get my way.”

Donnie kept both his hands over his brother’s hand, and he felt his mouth tremble. “Epilepsy, Mikey. Temporal Lobe. You know what that means, right?”

Mikey blinked very slowly and did not move. “I watch medical dramas, dude, I read books. I know what it is.”

Donnie let out a long breath and pinched the bridge of his nose."Good, right. Okay, and as I said, this is my theory as family medic but…"

“Don,” Michelangelo said softly. He had settled back against his pillow, and his gaze was huge, dark, full of an emotion Don couldn’t quite read. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I… I kinda already know.”

Donatello stared. The corner of his mouth twitched up. “And how could you already know you might have epilepsy when I only just told you?”

Mikey’s next smile managed to be bashful, anxious, arrogant, and overly knowing at the same time.“I… Um, I dreamed about it? For a week?”

Donatello was still staring unsure of what to do, right up until the voice of their hothead brother carried into the lab, calling Don’s name, furiously asking about Mike. Donnie’s shoulders instinctively straightened and his eyes narrowed.

Mikey shot him a worried look and gripped his hand.

Raphael sounded downright terrified.

Chapter Text

“So, wait, that doesn’t make any sense,” Raphael grunted. He leaned his elbows on the table and grit his teeth. “Mikey can’t have depression, he’s Mikey. He’s too optimistic, it’s not in him to be so sad for so long.”

“That’s just it,” April said, tenderly. “It’s not about being sad, it’s about being overwhelmed and drained, which brings up feelings of sadness multiplied. Feeling worthless and…”

Raph slammed his fist, making her and Casey jump. Leonardo blinked and Donatello frowned.

“He’s not worthless, though,” Raph growled, “why would he think that?”

“Depression is an illness,” April said, “in the brain. It takes over and makes you feel these things. Mikey can’t help it.”

“So… so we help treat it. I dunno, herbal tea? Meditation?” Raph looked and sounded lost.

“Well,” Casey spoke up, “most people take medication and go to therapy. You guys don’t exactly have access to those things. But I bet April and I can help. Some people do take herbs. And you guys are already so close, you could talk to him and listen to him.”

“Without dismissing his concerns or mocking him,” April added quickly.

The brothers exchanged guilty looks.

“He’s just… so optimistic,” Don murmured. “He bounces back from everything.”

“Maybe back before you got so involved with humans,” Casey said carefully. “Remember what happened all those months ago, at the station.”

Raphael exhaled and shuddered. “The cops called us monsters.”

“Mikey was really upset,” Leonardo added. “Not even Dad could soothe him. But he seemed to brush it off. He was so happy when we got keys to the city.”

“Well, obviously,” April smiled.

“He didn’t say a word about his injury from Kraang,” Donnie sighed, “not until the next day during training.”

April winced, nodding. The week that followed was truly scary. Michelangelo had been trying to hide two broken ribs, deep tissue bruising all around his upper chest and arms, half a dozen hairline fractures along his upper arms, and pinched nerves in both arms. Donatello had swallowed urges to yell at his little brother. It had been extraordinary how Mike had managed to conceal so much pain.

And that had been the problem. He had smiled and laughed and pretended nothing was very wrong, for five whole days, until the morning he had woken up and fallen out of bed, screaming.

As one, the three turtles flinched and grabbed each others’ hands.

“I still hear him yelling in pain,” Raph whispered, “and that was eight months ago.”

“We took apart your bunk beds and put them side by side,” Leo swallowed. “So you could help him more easily.”

“You know, that might have been the worst morning of my life,” Don said. “Having to check our little brother over while he was shivering and trying to insist it did not really hurt when I could literally see how much he was hurting.” He fiddled with his goggles. “Why would he outright lie about that?”

April sighed. “He didn’t want to burden you. It’s common among those starting to display symptoms of depression. He genuinely believed that it would be bothersome, that his injuries weren’t so terrible.”

Raph spluttered. “That’s… that’s crazy!”

April offered a weak smile. “Crazy is mentally ill. And most patients have no idea how they’re affecting the ones they love.”

Raph snarled. “That isn’t Mikey, it can’t be. He’s too damn happy, how could he not know? How?”

Before the humans could respond, Raph pressed his hand to his face and said shakily, “I can’t stop thinking’ about that day. I thought he was dying. I couldn’t do a damn thing other than hold him…”

Leonardo looked at Casey with a naked fear. “I’m failing my family. What if he…what if he deliberately hurts himself?”

Raph sucked in his breath. “When he ran off yesterday. He was bleeding. That…that wasn’t on purpose. W-was it?” He clenched his fists and glanced at his engineer brother. “Donnie…?”

Donatello met his strong sibling’s wounded stare, and somehow the clinical persona inside him surged forth and locked. “No. It was an accident. However, once he realized that his perception of the pain brought a sort of comfort, the…well, the ideation was created. We need to monitor him.”

“You’ll need our help,” Detective Jones said. “Chief Vincent will want to provide accommodation.”

Raphael winced. “Humans are bigots no matter what. Who’re we s'posed ta trust?”

April bit her lip. She looked at Casey, who said, “tell them.”

April folded her hands. “Remember…remember when you stopped that jewelry shop robbery, and Mikey helped the cashier calm down and she gave you her number?”

The teens exchanged glances.

“Aevalyn is a friend of mine and Casey’s. And she’s worked with Chief Vincent, she’s a nurse in training. She’s autistic and she works with occupational therapists to help other adult autistics compromise and modify their environment so there’s less sensory panic.”

Leo frowned. “But Mikey has ADHD.”

Donatello tapped his chin. “I’ve researched it. Autism and ADHD are cousins in neurodevelopmental disability. Mikey displays many autistic traits.”

Raph smirked and shrugged. “Well, cool, more reading. He’s got an amazing brain.”

“Regardless,” April continued, “Aeva has seen you and not screamed or fainted. She’s fascinated. She told me she wanted to meet the heroes of New York. And she’s an intuitive.“ When Leo perked up, April winked. "She connects to emotions. She…she knows stuff. She’ll really know what you’re all going through. Mikey could even stay in the lair and they could do a video chat. He needs to talk to someone who gets him, literally.”

Leo glanced toward the lab, where Michelangelo was still sleeping off his concussion and bloody head wounds from yesterday. He’d had seizures, which had horrified Raph to the point where he had pressed himself against the wall so he wouldn’t hurt his little brother with his shaky embrace. Don had printed out pages of information to ease the family’s shock.

They really did need help.

"This would be top secret,” Casey encouraged.

“We…we need to trust humans,” Leo sighed. “We can’t do this on our own.”

April smiled at him. “And Casey and I will be here, no matter what. Mikey is precious and necessary. We’ll make sure he believes it.”

Chapter Text

Leonardo was having trouble meditating.

That hadn’t happened in years.

A muscle in his cheek twitched.

His father’s soft voice echoed in the chamber.

“I feel your exasperation, my son. Perhaps it’s time for a break.”

Leo sighed and blinked, automatically rubbing his hands on his thighs. “The thing is, I know exactly why. And I know exactly why I need to relax and get past it.”

A small, tight pause, and Splinter’s shining eyes met his, widening. “There is no ‘getting past’ a mental illness and a permanent disability, Leonardo. Not for your brother, certainly not for his family.”

He tensed, teeth grinding. “I know. I…I didn’t mean…I mean, I meant for me and my mind and…it…that came out really wrong, Dad.”

“I understand your intent,” his father smiled.

Leo exhaled, feeling his face heat up. “I think…maybe…I’m scared?”

Splinter just tilted his head and nodded.

“I’m…afraid for Mikey, not of his depression or his seizures, but afraid that he’ll be…too hindered as a ninja, as our clan mate, and it’ll hurt the team and our missions, our entire dynamic…”

“Do you feel compelled to keep Michelangelo from joining you on missions, even going topside at all?”

Leo blinked. “A…a little. Aren’t you? His episodes are completely uncontrollable and random, and even if we could find help that’s not a therapist friend of April and Casey it’s not like we could get prescription drugs and we wouldn’t even know how they would affect him because–”

“I’m sure Donatello is more than willing to do heavy research,” his father said, “and perhaps Miss Gold - ah, Avalyn - can explain how her own antidepressants and anti-epilepsy drugs work for her personally, as she seems to have formed a strong bond with Michelangelo.  Plus, we do have a kind, generous police chief on our side who has access to medical needs.”

Leo shut his mouth. Did Splinter just wink?

He worked his jaw from side to side. All he wanted was for Mikey to be better. To be healthy again. But Casey and Ava kept saying this was a new normal and that it would take so much time and space and work, and would Avalyn need to be in their lives forever? She was just a student, she had her own life, she probably couldn't…

He remembered the day they had saved her from the burglary, Mikey joking as he held her to keep her from panicking. How every time they had their video chats his face lit up like the sun. How when she started actually visiting, he’d wiggle like a puppy. He never quite did that with April. He even made up new pet names.

Leo smirked. His little brother had a big crush.

“I just feel out of my depth and kind of helpless,” he shrugged. “This this isn’t some bad guy we can punch, or…or an object to grab, it’s nebulous and it’s inside my brother’s head. It’s inside him, it’s his brain. Raph’s right, how do we fight an enemy like that?”

Sighing, Splinter shook his head and rested his hands on Leo’s shoulders. “First of all, you must stop thinking that there even is an enemy. Disabilities are not a terrible fate, my son. They are part of life. Eventually, most everyone falls ill to a point where it cannot be cured. And a great deal of people acquire permanent disabilities whose syndromes can be well managed all their lives. Many people are born that way. You know this. Life is lived regardless of hindrances. Joy is lived in. We must constantly monitor our perceptions of one another as we grow and move about the world. Every individual has their own feeling of identity. We need to respect how they feel.”

Sitting back but still touching Leo, Splinter smiled softly. “I spoke with Avalyn this morning, while Michelangelo was resting from his seizure. She is quite proud of what and who she is, and I believe she has many things she could teach you.”

Feeling chastised, Leo nodded. Splinter pulled away and folded his hands.

“Michelangelo has always been extremely sensitive and in tune with his environment, and he may be picking up on your doubts. Do not let your concerns cloud your pure love. Help him mitigate his pain, soothe his fears. But do not overwhelm him, do not hover with anxiety that he cannot heal. It’s not your place to try to cure.”

Leo licked his lips, wanting to smack himself. “I mean, there literally is no cure, anyway. Yeah. I feel childish.”

“You have ignorance,” Splinter said. “You lack the information and knowledge. Your own fears caused pain and you stumbled in your quest to understand what’s been happening.”

Rubbing his neck, Leonardo grinned. “Think Raph’s been doing this too?”

Splinter’s eyes became distant. “Raphael is his own story. He has been very passionate and confused, lashing out, desperate and needy. Casey and Avalyn have been speaking with him.”

“I guess I haven’t noticed…I’ve been caught up.”

“Yes, I know.”

Beginning to stand, Leo bowed. “Thank you, sensei. I think I can sort this out now. And I should definitely have my own chat with our new friend.”

Splinter grinned cheekily. “As Michelangelo once said of Casey, we should invite people over more often.”

Leo laughed, finally lifted.

Chapter Text

This was new. 

Wait. 

Everything was new. 

Michelangelo had never broken so many bones. Or at all? Wait. Hadn't he? What about childhood? Probably. 

He couldn't remember.

He couldn't think. 

Raph would make fun. Donnie might say something about lacking in cognitive faculties. 

Wait. 

Where was Raph? Where was Don? 

Where was anybody? 

His legs hurt.

Fuck, his legs hurt so much, ankles to hips, little fires everywhere, freezing and twisting and deep deep throbbing stabs, and worst of all the cracks branching through his bones, digging into soft tissue like metal claws, circling his knees and hips waiting to squeeze. 

Someone was talking to him. 

Suddenly his legs stopped hurting. 

He opened his eyes, blinking against the brightest whitest lights ever. 

Oh. He was dead. Okay. 

Voices said he was alive, they just increased the painkillers. 

Why, though? 

Well, they had to open his legs up, set all the bones that could be set, insert the technorganic implants for the totally shattered bones plus the tendons and ligaments and set each joint back in and inject more steroids and keep the hip joints from grinding and and then he started drifting. Where was Donnie?  He'd love this. 

Donatello was being prepped nearby, said the voices, for his arm and shoulder. 

Michelangelo suddenly remembered something terrible. The Shredder hurt his oldest brother. The Shredder hurt all his brothers. And his father. And him. 

Oh. Oh no, oh, no, no no no wait what happened how were they here and where where was here and what was this place and why was he-

Hands on him, strange cool metallic hands, pushing him down, and then finally he saw the Utroms. 

"Oh," he mumbled. "Okay. Got it." 

He did. He didn't know how. The information was just there. Like when he was younger and he just felt things, things his brothers didn't believe and his father dismissed. 

He had dreams all the time about things he shouldn't have known. 

He knew he wasn't dreaming now, his legs hurt too much, even through the drugs, because there was a burning pressure he couldn't explain.

That was his knees, they told him, knitting back together, because knee breaks were particularly devastating and they had to be extremely careful. 

The Utroms kept assuring him that he would heal, all his family would heal, he just had to relax. 

Mikey tried to relax. 

An image came, like a television channel, the way it always had, before the visions had randomly stopped way back when they met Casey. This image was super intense, Leonardo angry and stressed, fighting Splinter in the dojo and almost cutting his ear. 

Mikey couldn't let that happen. 

So he had to relax. 

His legs went numb and he forgot he had legs. 

The only thing he remembered was that he couldn't let Leo fall. 

Somewhere during his thinking, he fell unconscious. 

Michelangelo found himself floating in a void, forced to stare at a dozen screens showing different things happening to his loved ones. He knew, organically, that all he could do was try to change some of them a little to have better outcomes.

He realized he didn't care if it would hurt. 

He reflexively reached out to one screen, he didn't have a body but he had energy, so energy became his hand. 

There was a keypad and he didn't understand what he was doing but that had never stopped him. As he typed, the scene changed. 

Instead of being fatally stabbed by Kluh's glaive, the Mikey on the screen moved in a way that should have been impossible so he could avoid death. On another screen, he typed out that Donnie would be cured of his second mutation instead of dying. On another, April and Casey got married successfully without being murdered by Shredder. 

Pain seared through him but the tiniest changes were important. Butterfly wings. He was a butterfly.

The screens dimmed. Exhaustion swept through him. A little voice whispered that he wouldn't ever remember this. He felt as if he'd had this conversation many times before. 

He felt himself starting to fall. The voice assured him he would be fine. It was getting harder to think.

"Who are you?" he murmured. "Have you always been with me?"

A slightly older version of himself, dressed in a silver and gold version of his cowl and cape that April would never be able find in a fabric, bowed and grinned. "Of course. I'm Titan. You named me. You named your superhero persona after me even though you didn't remember me. You've always had me when you needed. I'll always be here." 

There was another Mikey, glowing lit from within, amber gold veins like lightning across his skin. Lichtenberg figures somehow streaked across his plastron and Mikey wasn't even sure that was possible but he decided he as a mutant was already impossible. This other him was scarred on his upper arms and legs. There was a diagonal silver scar across his forehead, his eyes glowed a fierce blue, and his palms were marked with black and silver bursts that matched the burn scars of electricity. He whispered something but it was drowned out by sudden roaring. 

Titan grinned. "Empath says you're getting too close to the truth, it would be too much, that's why you're tired and foggy. Also, you're about to wake up. Hear the blood rushing through your skull? The painkillers are doing their best, but you're gonna have some chronic pains, arthritis in your legs, and we're truly sorry for that. Can't fix everything."

Mikey opened his mouth to express his confusion, but all that came out was a rising echoing wail as burning agony rushed up his legs and stabbed at his spine. He actually couldn't remember being in worse pain. 

The world turned white.

Slowly, the fog in his head cleared, and he felt a warm hand on his forehead, and he heard a soft voice say, "Everything will be all right, my son. Do not worry."

He wasn't worried. He had made sure everything would be all right. 

Michelangelo opened his eyes slowly and everything in his head vanished. Titan and Empath didn't exist, of course. 

He frowned. A tiny jolt of pain struck behind his forehead. 

Who didn't exist? 

What had happened?

His sensei stared at him in worry.

And all he could do was smile shakily.

"It's gonna be okay, I know it."

The head pain was replaced by cooling tingles.

And Splinter squeezed his hand and said, "Thank you,  Michelangelo. We will need your optimism and determined heart more than ever."

Deep deep inside him, a tiny voice he finally recognized cheered, "Shine on."

So Mikey would shine on. 

But he still needed to figure out who Titan and Empath were.

Chapter Text

1.

Mikey shuffled to the couch, pizza in one hand, massaging the stitched wound on his forehead with the other. Don had given him the go ahead to eat whatever, and Michelangelo was beginning to suspect Donnie was hoping he would just eat something at all. Raph had started commenting on his weight loss. Pfft, like he didn’t need to lose. He had been eating three slices at a time back when they met Casey. 

Nibbling, Mike grabbed the remote and found a nature documentary. Dolphins were cute and fun, sure. The pizza tasted like sand. Maybe the pizza place had changed their recipe. He finished it and flopped his head against the back of the couch. 

The cushions sank next to him. “Just one slice?” Leo asked, so casually it hurt. Mike tried not to roll his eyes. 

“Already had,” he lied, because Leo was easy to play. 

His oldest brother’s eyes narrowed. “Right.”

Michelangelo turned on the innocent eyes and blinked. “Did you want the TV?”

Leonardo just stared at him. Then he sighed. “No, it’s fine. I just wanted to hang out.”

Shrugging, Mikey shifted to make room. Leo wound up wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him in. Mike had a second of surprise before happily cuddling against Leo’s shoulder. There was comfortable silence for the next twenty minutes.

“So, how have you been feeling since your last therapy session with Aevalyn?”

The pizza in his gut suddenly felt heavy. Why did talking about her to Leo feel wrong? “I’m… um, feeling good. She’s really helpful, she’s got this weird patchwork of knowledge, you know, like Donnie but not all science and tech and math, like…”

He paused. He swallowed. His face felt hot. “She… she says I’m autistic and my ADHD is, um, treated with ninjitsu… and, and… she says I should meditate more.”

Leonardo seemed to light up. “Oh really? Does she know you have trouble?”

Michelangelo tried not to roll his eyes. “Well, yeah, duh. She suggested that I do it like she does, fidgeting and stimming and-”

“Stimming?”

“S-self stimulating behavior.” The blush deepened. 

“Ah! Understood. Like when you clack your chucks together when you're nervous.”

Mikey breathed out in relief and tapped his fingers on his thighs. 

“Or when you tap your hands like that,” Leo said kindly. 

Mikey glanced at him. There was nothing but love in his oldest brother’s eyes. Did Leo really get it? Finally? 

He took another deep breath and clenched every muscle against the anxiety. 

“April thinks she can bring Aeva down soon, so everyone can… can meet her.”

“Oh, wow, okay,” and Leo grinned. Mike blinked slowly, unsure. 

He watched Leo’s face, and abruptly the new mental skill surged, the weird sense of everything around him, like psionic superheroes in his comics. Leo was startled and pleased and relieved and very curious, and words were suddenly in Mikey’s head, in Leo’s voice. Words that wondered if Mikey had a crush on this mysterious fascinating human who was saving his life. 

He was hearing Leonardo’s thoughts. 

Didn’t Aevalyn say she could do that? 

Blinking, Michelangelo let the power roll around in his mind, poking it. It felt like a separate entity, purring and stretching in his head, and at the same time sunk deeply into the meat of his brain, tendrils of electric energy burrowing like tree roots and sparking neurons to fire. He was eternally grateful for his time spent with Donatello, flipping through textbooks to ease boredom. Between that and Aevalyn excitedly discussing her studies in Neuropsychology, he felt almost smart all on his own. 

And then he felt his arms twitch. His head and shoulders jerked back as if shocked. 

“… Mikey? You okay?”

Leo’s voice was muted. 

He was plunged under. 

Michelangelo barely felt every single muscle in his body begin to spasm as his brother began to yell and pull him close. He heard Leo whisper something comforting. He heard Donatello, in the vast distance, something about laying him down. And then the seizure had him and he was down the rabbit hole.

…..

2.

Donatello had finished typing in the most recent notes when his tech scanners gave a gentle alert. Relief flooded him and he turned, walking to the medical bed, smiling automatically.

His “patient” wasn’t smiling. It was to be expected. Don sat in the chair and kept his hands in his lap. “Welcome back, Mikey. How do you feel?”

Michelangelo gave him a deeply sad look that had become disturbingly familiar, eyes glazed. “Tired. Th-thirsty.”

Donnie nodded and grabbed a nearby water bottle. He slid one hand under his brother’s head, lifting it, and helped him drink. Michelangelo had always had a habit of not hydrating enough after his skateboarding adventures. Don giving him water was pure instinct.

When half the water was gone, Mike’s head lolled against Don’s hand, so the scientist set the bottle aside and lightly massaged the poor concussed scalp, and with his free he felt Mikey’s burning forehead, just to confirm the biosensors.

Mikey squeezed his eyes, groaned, clenched his teeth, and then widened his eyes. “Dude, I feel like shit. All I did was fall on my face.”

Donnie didn’t let his smile waver. “Well, you’ve got a high fever, since as it turns out, a couple of your scrapes got infected. Including this one.” And he ran his finger down the diagonal stitches on Mike’s forehead, which the orange mask wouldn’t quite conceal.

“… oh. Is that why my right hand is throbbing?”

“Yup. Casey got us plenty of medicine.”

Mike licked his lips and swallowed a few times. Donnie bit his lip, took some deep deep breaths, and prepared.

Michelangelo stared at him, dilated and glassy and clouded eyes working puzzles. “I… kinda remember having another seizure?”

Breathe out, breathe in. Donatello smiled gently again and took Mikey’s hand in both of his. “Yeah, it scared Raph shitless and Leo lost color. April and I had to kick them out of the lab. That-that was yesterday. I think Raphie is calm now.”

Mikey jerked upright, before Don easily pushed him down. “Wait, a whole day? Doonnniieee, what did I miss? You guys didn’t eat all the pizza? Am I in toble fr running way? Will Sensei pu me ih the Hashi? I don’t feel good, I don’t wanna!”

“Whoa, hey, hey, easy! You’re not in trouble, little brother, I promise. There’s plenty of pizza. Splinter is really worried for you. I mean, you came home with a gash in your head and a heavy concussion, you’ll be on bed rest for a while.” Mentally, Donnie was already cataloging those obvious slips in his brother’s language processing; that was very bad, and there was no way he could tell his family until he could get more information. He squeezed Mikey’s hand a little harder.

“Something else is up, dude,” and Mikey’s solemn voice jolted him. “You leaving somethin’ out, Donnie. There’s something really wrong with me and you nnn-know wuh-what it probly is.”

Oh damn it, why was Mikey so… so empathic? Donnie knew he had to choose his words carefully; Michelangelo had the weirdest intuition and creepily uncanny cunning insight. “Mike…Mikey, there’s a bunch of tests I still need to run to confirm, and and with our mutations there’s no telling how your neurology will respond…”

Those summer blue eyes narrowed and seemed to crack around the edges. Mikey grinned in a way that seemed predatory. “Yeah but you do got a theory. You have that look, Donnie. You already figured it out, it’s what you do. So spill. Tell me.”

He bit his lip harder. “Mikey, I really don’t think I can…”

But Michelangelo cleared his throat. And then his little brother pulled a trick from Don’s own book.“Do it, Donnie, tell me.” Shaking, sweating, horribly pale, still grinning, Mikey pushed himself up on his elbows and fixed Don with puppy eyes brightened by fever. “Do it, do it, do it, not gonna stop til you do it!”

Donnie’s mouth dropped open. “You cheeky brat, you… Okay, fine.”

Mikey produced that famous cheeky grin and lay back with a light huff. “I always get my way.”

Donnie kept both his hands over his brother’s hand, and he felt his mouth tremble. “Epilepsy, Mikey. Temporal Lobe. You know what that means, right?”

Mikey blinked very slowly and did not move. “I watch medical dramas, dude, I read books. I know what it is.”

Donnie let out a long breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.“Good, right. Okay, and as I said, this is my theory as family medic but…”

“Don,” Michelangelo said softly. He had settled back against his pillow, and his gaze was huge, dark, full of an emotion Don couldn’t quite read. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I… I kinda already know.”

Donatello stared. The corner of his mouth twitched up. “And how could you already know you might have epilepsy when I only just told you?”

Mikey’s next smile managed to be bashful, anxious, arrogant, and overly knowing at the same time.“I… Um, I dreamed about it? For a week?”

Donatello was still staring unsure of what to do, right up until the voice of their hothead brother carried into the lab, calling Don’s name, furiously asking about Mike. Donnie’s shoulders instinctively straightened and his eyes narrowed.

Mikey shot him a worried look and gripped his hand.

Raphael sounded downright terrified.

…..

3

“So, wait, that doesn’t make any sense,” Raphael grunted. He leaned his elbows on the table and grit his teeth. “Mikey can’t have depression, he’s Mikey. He’s too optimistic, it’s not in him to be so sad for so long.”

“That’s just it,” April said, tenderly. “It’s not about being sad, it’s about being overwhelmed and drained, which brings up feelings of sadness multiplied. Feeling worthless and…”

Raph slammed his fist, making her and Casey jump. Leonardo blinked and Donatello frowned.

“He’s not worthless, though,” Raph growled, “why would he think that?”

“Depression is an illness,” April said, “in the brain. It takes over and makes you feel these things. Mikey can’t help it.”

“So… so we help trelat it. I dunno, herbal tea? Meditation?” Raph looked and sounded lost.

“Well,” Casey spoke up, “most people take medication and go to therapy. You guys don’t exactly have access to those things. But I bet April and I can help. Some people do take herbs. And you guys are already so close, you could talk to him and listen to him.”

“Without dismissing his concerns or mocking him,” April added quickly.

The brothers exchanged guilty looks.

“He’s just… so optimistic,” Don murmured. “He bounces back from everything.”

“Maybe back before you got so involved with humans,” Casey said carefully. “Remember what happened all those months ago, at the station.”

Raphael exhaled and shuddered. “The cops called us monsters.”

“Mikey was really upset,” Leonardo added. “Not even Dad could soothe him. But he seemed to brush it off. He was so happy when we got keys to the city.”

“Well, obviously,” April smiled.

“He didn’t say a word about his injury from Kraang,” Donnie sighed, “not until the next day during training.”

April winced, nodding. The week that followed was truly scary. Michelangelo had been trying to hide two broken ribs, deep tissue bruising all around his upper chest and arms, half a dozen hairline fractures along his upper arms, and pinched nerves in both arms. Donatello had swallowed urges to yell at his little brother. It had been extraordinary how Mike had managed to conceal so much pain.

And that had been the problem. He had smiled and laughed and pretended nothing was very wrong, for five whole days, until the morning he had woken up and fallen out of bed, screaming.

As one, the three turtles flinched and grabbed each others’ hands.

“I still hear him yelling in pain,” Raph whispered, “and that was eight months ago.”

“We took apart your bunk beds and put them side by side,” Leo swallowed. “So you could help him more easily.”

“You know, that might have been the worst morning of my life,” Don said. “Having to check our little brother over while he was shivering and trying to insist it did not really hurt when I could literally see how much he was hurting.” He fiddled with his goggles. “Why would he outright lie about that?”

April sighed. “He didn’t want to burden you. It’s common among those starting to display symptoms of depression. He genuinely believed that it would be bothersome, that his injuries weren’t so terrible.”

Raph spluttered. “That’s… that’s crazy!”

April offered a weak smile. “Crazy is mentally ill. And most patients have no idea how they’re affecting the ones they love.”

Raph snarled. “That isn’t Mikey, it can’t be. He’s too damn happy, how could he not know? How?"

Before the humans could respond, Raph pressed his hand to his face and said shakily, “I can’t stop thinking’ about that day. I thought he was dying. I couldn’t do a damn thing other than hold him…”

Leonardo looked at Casey with a naked fear. “I’m failing my family. What if he…what if he deliberately hurts himself?”

Raph sucked in his breath. “When he ran off yesterday. He was bleeding. That…that wasn’t on purpose. W-was it?” He clenched his fists and glanced at his engineer brother. “Donnie…?”

Donatello met his strong sibling’s wounded stare, and somehow the clinical persona inside him surged forth and locked. “No. It was an accident. However, once he realized that his perception of the pain brought a sort of comfort, the…well, the ideation was created. We need to monitor him.”

“You’ll need our help,” Detective Jones said. “Chief Vincent will want to provide accommodation.”

Raphael winced. “Humans are bigots no matter what. Who’re we s'posed ta trust?”

April bit her lip. She looked at Casey, who said, “Tell them.”

April folded her hands. “Remember…remember when you stopped that jewelry shop robbery, and Mikey helped the cashier calm down and she gave you her number?”

The turtles exchanged glances.

“Aevalyn is a friend of mine and Casey’s. And she’s worked with Chief Vincent, she’s a nurse in training. She’s autistic and she works with occupational therapists to help other adult autistics compromise and modify their environment so there’s less sensory panic.”

Leo frowned. “But Mikey has ADHD.”

Donatello tapped his chin. “I’ve researched it. Autism and ADHD are cousins in neurodevelopmental disability. Mikey displays many autistic traits.”

Raph smirked and shrugged. “Well, cool, good for him. He’s got an amazing brain.”

“Regardless,” April continued, “Aeva has seen you and not screamed or fainted. She’s fascinated. She told me she wanted to meet the heroes of New York. And she’s an intuitive.“ When Leo perked up, April winked. "She connects to emotions. She…she knows stuff. She’ll really know what you’re all going through. Mikey could even stay in the lair and they could do a video chat. He needs to talk to someone who gets him, literally.”

Leo glanced toward the lab, where Michelangelo was still sleeping off his concussion and bloody head wounds from yesterday. He’d had seizures, which had horrified Raph to the point where he had pressed himself against the wall so he wouldn’t hurt his little brother with his shaky embrace. Don had printed out pages of information to ease the family’s shock.

They really did need help.

"This would be top secret,” Casey encouraged.

“We…we need to trust humans,” Leo sighed. “We can’t do this on our own.”

April smiled at him. “And Casey and I will be here, no matter what. Mikey is precious and necessary. We’ll make sure he believes it.”

…..

4.

Leonardo was having trouble meditating.

That hadn’t happened in years.

A muscle in his cheek twitched.

His father’s soft voice echoed in the chamber.

“I feel your exasperation, my son. Perhaps it’s time for a break.”

Leo sighed and blinked, automatically rubbing his hands on his thighs. “The thing is, I know exactly why. And I know exactly why I need to relax and get past it.”

A small, tight pause, and Splinter’s shining eyes met his, widening. “There is no ‘getting past’ a mental illness and a permanent disability, Leonardo. Not for your brother, certainly not for his family.”

He tensed, teeth grinding. “I know. I…I didn’t mean…I mean, I meant for me and my mind and…it…that came out really wrong, Dad.”

“I understand your intent,” his father smiled.

Leo exhaled, feeling his face heat up. “I think…maybe…I’m scared?”

Splinter just tilted his head and nodded.

“I’m…afraid for Mikey, not of his depression or his seizures, but afraid that he’ll be…too hindered as a ninja, as our clan mate, and it’ll hurt the team and our missions, our entire dynamic…”

“Do you feel compelled to keep Michelangelo from joining you on missions, even going topside at all?”

Leo blinked. “A…a little. Aren’t you? His episodes are completely uncontrollable and random, and even if we could find help that’s not a therapist friend of April and Casey it’s not like we could get prescription drugs and we wouldn’t even know how they would affect him because–”

“I’m sure Donatello is more than willing to do heavy research,” his father said, “and perhaps Miss Gold - ah, Avalyn - can explain how her own antidepressants and anti-seizure drugs work for her personally, as she seems to have formed a strong bond with Michelangelo. Plus, we do have a kind, generous police chief on our side who has access to medical needs.”

Leo shut his mouth. Did Splinter just wink?

He worked his jaw from side to side. All he wanted was for Mikey to be better. To be healthy again. But Casey and Ava kept saying this was a new normal and that it would take so much time and space and work, and would Avalyn need to be in their lives forever? She was just a student, she had her own life, she probably couldn't…

He remembered the day they had saved her from the burglary, Mikey joking as he held her to keep her from panicking. How every time they had their video chats his face lit up like the sun. How when she started actually visiting, he’d wiggle like a puppy. He never quite did that with April. He even made up new pet names.

Leo smirked. His little brother had a big crush.

“I just feel out of my depth and kind of helpless,” he shrugged. “This this isn’t some bad guy we can punch, or…or an object to grab, it’s nebulous and it’s inside my brother’s head. It’s inside him, it’s his brain. Raph’s right, how do we fight an enemy like that?”

Sighing, Splinter shook his head and rested his hands on Leo’s shoulders. “First of all, you must stop thinking that there even is an enemy. Disabilities are not a terrible fate, my son. They are part of life. Eventually, most everyone falls ill to a point where it cannot be cured. And a great deal of people acquire permanent disabilities whose syndromes can be well managed all their lives. Many people are born that way. You know this. Life is lived regardless of hindrances. Joy is lived in. We must constantly monitor our perceptions of one another as we grow and move about the world. Every individual has their own feeling of identity. We need to respect how they feel.”

Sitting back but still touching Leo, Splinter smiled softly. “I spoke with Avalyn this morning, while Michelangelo was resting from his seizure. She is quite proud of what and who she is, and I believe she has many things she could teach you.”

Feeling chastised, Leo nodded. Splinter pulled away and folded his hands.

“Michelangelo has always been extremely sensitive and in tune with his environment, and he may be picking up on your doubts. Do not let your concerns cloud your pure love. Help him mitigate his pain, soothe his fears. But do not overwhelm him, do not hover with anxiety that he cannot heal. It’s not your place to try to cure.”

Leo licked his lips, wanting to smack himself. “I mean, there literally is no cure, anyway. Yeah. I feel childish.”

“You have ignorance,” Splinter said. “You lack the information and knowledge. Your own fears caused pain and you stumbled in your quest to understand what’s been happening.”

Rubbing his neck, Leonardo grinned. “Think Raph’s been doing this too?”

Splinter’s eyes became distant. “Raphael is his own story. He has been very passionate and confused, lashing out, desperate and needy. Casey and Avalyn have been speaking with him.”

“I guess I haven’t noticed…I’ve been caught up.”

“Yes, I know.”

Beginning to stand, Leo bowed. “Thank you, sensei. I think I can sort this out now. And I should definitely have my own chat with our new friend.”

Splinter grinned cheekily. “As Michelangelo once said of Casey, we should invite people over more often.”

Leo laughed, finally lifted.

…..

5.

Touching a human woman like this was a strange, unexpected, extraordinary dream. Michelangelo took deep breaths while his head pounded too heavily. He was sure the girl could sense it through that… that bond she’d formed with him. He shakily reached out with his own mind and hit a thick wall.

He heard a breathy giggle and looked up, away from their tightly clasped hands. He blinked. Avalyn was gazing directly into his eyes as if she was searching. She smiled.

“Okay.” she squeezed his hands. “Eye contact isn’t so bad, as long as I focus and don’t talk much. Thanks for humoring me.”

He frowned. “Okay, but I really was paying attention. I love listening to you.” Internally he flinched. That was flirting. He didn’t have his confidence anymore. It hurt.

“Hey,” Avalyn said, “it’s all right. Clinical depression is a monster in lots of ways. But sometimes you can cuddle with it.”

He nodded and bit his lip. “So, like, since you’re like me with all the… I mean, like, the depression and epilepsy and the ADHD… what about your telepathy? Am I gonna pick up on that too?”

Cocking her head, she smiled in that slow way that made his heart flutter. “You already have enough of your own but I can help. Like just a minute ago when you touched my shields.”

Mikey squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah, sorry, that was rude.”

Her giggle was sultry. “Pfft, I was accidentally hitting people’s natural shields since before the psionics kicked in. If everything I’ve ever done is rude I dunno where I would be. You’re fine. It’s just in our neuropsychology to be curious about everything. Besides, you guys are ninjas, ninjas build strong psychic walls. I can crumble them if I wanted to.”

Mikey raised an eyeridge.

“I won’t, of course. But I could.” Avalyn gave him a sharp smirk.

He snorted. “Is being blunt a thing all autistics share?”

“For me to know and you to find out, silly. Now seriously, we’re here to meditate on your ideations.”

Michelangelo scrunched up his nose. “I think I hate that word.”

She was in his surface mind. She knew what he thought. “But that’s what you did,” and she stretched her hands so they circled his bandaged stitched wrists. He felt the warmth of her palms radiate into the clumsy knife wounds and tried not to tremble. It was still a sore subject. Literally, he still felt bruises from where he’d grasped his own arms too hard, from where Raphie had been tightly holding each of his hands while a scared Donnie had yanked thread through his skin and that had been just last week and still…

“I didn’t mean to, though,” Mikey scowled.

Avalyn sighed and suddenly she finally looked much older than twenty. Mikey realized his hands - maybe her hands - were shaking.

She looked right into his eyes again like a well of secrets uncovered. He sucked his a breath at how that bright hazel was made brighter by the gold rings. Why did she have to be so beautiful, it made him ache.

“Mikey…” this mysterious disabled psychic human girl sounded sad and tired and he wanted to hold her, and the way she said his name was honey and rushing streams and so so patient and kind and gentle and he wanted to cry… “You asked me to help you. You understand what’s happening to you very well. You know it can’t keep going like this. Your whole family is in a panic over you. I think you finally need to stop denying things.”

He swallowed. He could feel her mind, gently paused right in front of his like a hesitant hug. All he had to do was let down the wall and she would connect with him and they could begin this strange recovery process that even Casey didn’t understand.

And he was afraid.

She was doing something to him and it took his breath away, sweeping him up in a fluid joy, moonlight shimmering over rippling water. He felt like telling her she was a poem.

“Yes. I want you to help me,” he said firmly. “I don’t want to keep watching my brothers suffer over me.”

Avalyn grinned. “That’s a fantastic step, Mikey.”

…..

6.

“DONNIE! LEO! SHIT… DAD!” Raphael was panicking now. He hated panicking.

He gripped Mikey to him like a broken doll, shaking almost as much as his baby brother, except he was sure he could soothe himself… What the hell had April said? The seizures could last anywhere from a few seconds to over ten minutes and were completely uncontrollable? Oh God, oh fuck… He inhaled sharply.

“Okay, Gotta calm the fuck down, calm down Raph, your panicking shouldn’t be a problem, because you gotta take care of Mike, you gotta pull it together to take care of Mikey, talk to him, keep him breathing… haahhh oh hell, Mikey, Mikey, I’m here, big brother’s here…”

And he’d already forgotten if he was supposed to let Mike lay there or if he should hold him or what, all he knew was that Michelangelo was fucking trembling and his sky blue eyes were rolled up and dilated and glazed and it was freaky and scary and he was scared and–

“Raph, it’s okay, breathe deep, I got him!”

And there was Donatello, lanky body stretching from a crouch to take Michelangelo from him, and Raph’s instinct was to hiss and snarl (don’t touch him he’s mine he’s hurt) and then Leo was holding his shoulders from behind, gently, so gently, and a shuddering cooing whine slipped from Raphael before he was aware.

His sight suddenly filled with fur and robe, his nose filled with the smell of love comfort warmth father. Splinter cupped Raph’s face in his hands, stared at him, then nodded. He moved back, to Donnie, and Raph watched, leaning into Leonardo’s arms without realizing.

Don had laid Mikey on the floor with a cushion under his head. Blood was still flowing from Mike’s arms, glass shards protruding. Splinter, with his slender claws, was carefully lovingly extracting them, bits of blue colored vase and dried flowers.

“I didn’t see it,” Raph said hoarsely. “I just heard him yelling, and then the crash, and then he was on the floor and the vase was broken all over him and there was a lot of blood, and he was convulsing.”

Donnie was stroking Mikey’s head and peering into his eyes, goggles clicking. “So do you have an idea of how long he’s been seizing?”

Gulping, Raph turned his head to glance at Leo, though he didn’t know why. Leo shifted to sit beside him, keeping an arm around his shoulder. Raph felt calmer. “Maybe like… twenty seconds. Um. I held him so he wouldn’t bang his head on the floor and I yelled for you guys, and that was, what, ten more seconds?” He realized he was still shivering. Leo kept massaging his arm.

And Mike was still in the damn seizure.

Splinter had finished removing the glass and debris and was cleaning the wounds. A roll of gauze was in one hand.

Don had pushed up his goggles and was lightly holding Mikey’s shoulders, murmuring against their little brother’s ear slit. Splinter was wrapping his son’s arms and hands and squeezing his left hand, the one closest to Raph. Raph leaned forward, feeling Leo follow.

“Come on, little bro,” Leo said tightly, “come back to us.”

A haze of worry, edging on fear, began to rise in the back of Raph’s mind.

Thirty more seconds.

Sweat had broken out on Michelangelo’s forehead.

Splinter was nuzzling his cheek, whispering.

A gasping guttural purr rolled over them and Raph jerked back. Mikey sucked in a deep breath, gasping harshly again, and Don automatically cooed and purred back. Sheer instincts made Raph let out his own loud soothing purr, which Leo echoed.

Mikey cried out, ending with a sobbing rolling trill. Splinter moved back and Raph filled his space, running his hands over his brother’s face. He sensed Leo grasping Mikey’s hands while Donnie stroked Mike’s plastron with one hand and supported his neck with the other.

Mikey tensed all his muscles, then went limp, eyes fluttering. He panted, squirming slightly, and turned his face to Raph. He blinked a few times. His eyes went wide, blue getting clearer and stronger as liquid pooled and fear made his eyes glitter.

“Mikey?” Raph felt like crying too. He framed his brother’s confused fear with his thumbs, smiling as he stroked away the tears that were starting to fall. He remembered - seizures were scary and confusing and sometimes humiliating.

“Raphie?” Mike sounded like a little kid. “Wh-wha happened? Why’s everyo- am I on the floor?” His eyes widened even more, tears getting huge. “Did I seizure again?” He ended on a high whine, horrified, mortified. Raph found himself smiling steadily, wiping the tears and breathing easily. He remembered that seizures caused aphasia, that condition where words got mixed up.

“Yeah, Mike, you had a seizure, but don’t worry, it’s okay. I got help, we helped you.”

Watching Mikey cringe broke his heart. “You… you sure it’s okay? Did I do anything embarr'sing? Was I bad?”

This time Leo leaned in, squeezing his hands, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “No, Mikey, we promise, you’re all right.”

Doubt and unease flickered across Michelangelo’s face. “My arms hurt.”

“You were holding a big vase,” Donnie said. “It shattered and the glass cut you up.” He quickly started massaging Mike’s neck and plastron, just as Mikey began breathing too harshly, eyes roaming in fear.

“I broke the vase, oh my god, I broke it, Dad, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

Splinter leaned into him, the boys making room. “Shush, my son, you did not do it on purpose. It is all right. That vase was old and faded. I know you didn’t mean to. It’s your illness.” But Mikey had burst into tears, and Raph swallowed hard, watching Splinter gather Mikey into his arms.

“Oh, my little one, it is all right. Sshhhh, you did nothing wrong. I only feel worried about you. I feel only love. It is all right, Michelangelo, everything will be all right. I love you.”

Muffled, Mikey’s voice was cracked. “… love you Dad…”

Don had flipped on his goggles again, looking Mikey up and down with fierce determination. “Panic attack. Exhaustion. Muscles are overly tense, heart rate is through the roof. He needs rest and a sedative. And a lot of reassurance.” He grinned. “I recommend cuddles.” That made Splinter chuckle as he rubbed Mike’s back. Mikey let out a breathy giggle between sniffles.

“I can brew some of that special tea Dad made when we were kids and Mikey had night terrors,” Leo said. He stood fluidly. Raphael followed, talking deep breaths.

“I might go for a cup o’ that,” he whispered.

Leo eyed him as they moved to the kitchen. “Raph, you’re pale. Maybe you should have some. Hell, maybe we all should.”

Raph managed a smirk and a weak shrug. He would tuck Mikey into bed if that was what it took to soothe everyone’s nerves. And then he would go online with Donnie and look up how to deal with an epileptic sibling, before his heart exploded.

…..

7.

But Michelangelo was shaking his head again, his whole body still shivering. “Leo, no, you don’t get it, I just want to be home, really home. With my family. And I’m not home. Not… not where it counts.” And he thumped his plastron with his fist, right against his heart, and Leonardo felt the violent weight of full understanding crash into him. He drew his little brother into his arms and exhaled deeply.

…..

8.

Michelangelo floated in that deep cobalt space between sleep and wake, where the pain stretched a little too far a little too sharply. His whole face hurt in that soft smashed way, concrete patterns etched into well worn skin, more tiny scars with better tattoo stories. He tried to smile. His whole face hurt.

His forehead throbbed specifically. It felt knife-like. Was he cut? No…no, this was bigger. A gash, even. He felt the little stitches and decided he probably fell while boarding and then Donnie-

Wait. He hadn’t fallen off his skateboard since he was fourteen!

Pain burst through his head and his body clenched. His upper lip was warm and salty suddenly, liquid pooling. His eyes shivered and opened without him, and he stared at the blurry ceiling of Don’s lab.

A familiar, furry hand touched his face.

“Michelangelo,” his father said quietly. He moved his eyes until Master Splinter’s face with frightened eyes came into view.

Mikey didn’t trust his voice; his throat felt too raw. He opened his mouth and blood dripped in. His eyes widened.

Splinter’s other hand came up and pressed a gauze pad against his nose. He was bleeding. His nose was bleeding.

“Sensei?” he rasped. 

“Do you remember what happened?” his father asked kindly. Mikey blinked. He wasn’t in trouble, was he?

“I…I fell?”

“Something like that, according to your brothers. You do not recall running out of the lair yesterday, my son?”

Wait, so he was in trouble? Mikey shook his head. The rat was blurring around the edges.

“Michelangelo.” Splinter’s face came even closer. He removed the bloody gauze. “Michelangelo, focus on me. Can you do that?”

Mikey felt tears pool in his eyes. He couldn’t. He felt himself shake. “I can’t.”

There was a moment of gray.

Voices echoed.

“…worse. It’s stopped for now.”

He blinked very slowly. He was staring into the oversized golden green eyes of his techie brother, magnified and highlighted by the ever present goggles. And he was still crying?

“It’s okay, Mike, it’s okay,” Donnie was saying, “take a breath. Can you breathe with me?”

Mike whimpered until it became a sob. Extremely familiar hands dug into his shoulders from behind and he inhaled shakily.

“It’s okay, Raph,” Donnie spoke again, glancing up over Mikey's head. “Head injuries can make anyone cry. Just keep him steady.”

“Hey, Little Bro,” Raphael said, close to his ear, sounding terrified and young. “Deep breaths. Stay awake, yeah? Can ya stay awake for us?”

Michelangelo clenched his teeth. His breaths came out like a scared child's. “I’m so sorry. I can’t remember what happened!”

And suddenly there was April, smiling hopefully, as Leo appeared with her. “That happens with concussions, Mikey,” his favorite human said gently. She was holding his hand. He remembered months ago when just her smile flipped his stomach. She was his friend now, his best friend, and he sniffled at her, hoping he was smiling. His oldest brother gave him a very relieved grin, so he figured April had made him smile.

She smiled at him a little wider. “There’s that smile. It’s okay that you can’t remember. It might come back. Even if it doesn’t, we’re here for you. We will help you, okay?”

Help? What did he need help with? It’s not like he needed help to hate himself…

Oh.

Oh gods.

He remembered.

They had kept calling him depressed, calling him sick, and he wasn't sick, he couldn't be depressed, he was MC Mikey, he wasn't sick, he wasn't!

And then the shaking episodes, Casey calling them seizures, and the dreams about wounds slicing open his arms, about falling off high buildings, about seeing how useless and pointless and worthless he was, breaking mirrors all around him, cursing his existence, shaking so hard he fell out of bed…

"You're sick," they kept saying, "your brain is sick and you need help." And he screamed at them and ran.

Mikey felt that grayness seep in as his limbs took on their own life again, his hands clenching, his body spasming in a long agonizing convulsion, curling up and nearly folding in half off the medical bed. He couldn’t hear, he could barely feel Raphie holding him up against his plastron. Mikey knew he was crying and he was pretty sure he was having another nosebleed and all he could see was the sewer walls closing in while he tried to run away from himself.

……

9.

Raphael found himself pacing in front of the lab and he really really need to punch something. But… there was his dad, right there, and Leo was watching him, watching him in that damn way, even Casey was standing rigid with his face set in “cop face” and he couldn’t exactly blow up because Donnie and April would just send him further away and how dare they kick him out when his baby brother was–

“Raph?”

That was April. He spun and lunged with wide eyes. He pulled up, seeing the exhaustion on her face. He couldn’t breathe. His baby brother had been in a seizure after being unconscious for a day and everyone but Don and April had to get out and now…

“Well?” he burst out. “Is he okay?”

April massaged her neck. “He’s running a fever. Don says more than one of the scrapes on his face and hands got infected, so we’re keeping an eye out. Also he hit his head harder than we thought. That might… um… change things.”

“Change things?” Raph heard his own voice go up a couple octaves. He also felt Splinter take him by the forearm with both paws.

Leonardo, ever collected, folded his arms and worked his jaw. “Are you talking about brain damage, April?”

Raph thought his head had fogged up, or the room had started to spin. He heard Casey speak up and say something about kids with depression who got head trauma and concussions, something about chronic headaches… and something starting with e? Epilesty? Something about developing brains and neuro-something something. All Raph could think of was how Michelangelo, his sweet little brother, had had two seizures in one week and-

“Epilepsy,” he barked out as the word fumbled into place, the room lurching forward. “You saying Mikey is gonna have epilepsy because of his head injuries?”

They all startled, and stared at him. April looked blatantly horrified for some reason, slowly coming at him with her hands out. “Raphie, god, sit down, you’re about to pass out.”

“Am not,” he snapped, but was surprised at how docily he followed his father’s urgent tugging to the couch.

“I will make calming tea,” Splinter said. “Leonardo, look after your brother, he may be in emotional shock.”

Raph grit his teeth and wanted to say something, but his older brother’s hands massaging his shoulders in that familiar way had him already relaxing into the couch; Leo and Mikey had gotten this massage routine perfected since childhood, since Raph and Don were always stressed in their own ways. It was almost hypnotic. “Breaths slow,” Leo said. “Visuals. Light and energy, top of your head, bottom of your feet, all the way, with the flow in between.” That weird singsong mantra Mikey had invented that Leo had improved on just a few years ago.

Nimble fingers danced on hard muscle knots, pressing in with flawless accuracy. Raph found himself exhaling long and hard and then it was over. “Fuck you, you’re too good at this,” he muttered.

“That’s amazing,” April said from somewhere.

“I gotta try that on my coworkers,” Casey mused.

Leo let him up and Raph cracked his neck out of habit. Splinter appeared with tea. “Ah, the mantra massage. Good. Now, Mr Jones, what were you saying before Raphael’s question?”

Raph would have snarled, but the tea tasted like honey and sunshine and he was way too relaxed.

……

10.

Raphael was approaching a limit he hadn't realized he had. None of his brothers had ever acted like this. Actually, out of all of them, he could have been most likely to act this way. 

Of course, everything about what was happening was downright wrong. 

Michelangelo was yelling at them, angry and upset and crying. He was crying, worse than at the police station incident, long ago, worse than every scraped knee or skateboard tumble in childhood. A steady, raw, breathy sobbing in between words, words that lashed out at each of them, words that were true, and that was the problem, they were words that Raph couldn't deny. 

It had been months since the Krang battle, since Mikey's injuries, and he was fine now. He was fine! He'd made a friend, sort of! That human girl. Not girl. Young woman. Raph's brain couldn't remember her name. But she had a limp and purple hair, and made everyone smile.

Mikey hadn't smiled, not genuinely, since they came home from saving her at the jewelry store. Something was really wrong. 

And Raph found himself standing taller, nodding, barely feeling his bruises and cuts from a gang member's lucky hits. But Mikey was snarling, gesturing, "-still happening because of me, I wasn't watching his shell…"

Raph's auditory processing faded a little again. The fuck was that about? Mikey had gone into the jewelry store to check on the only person inside, and Raph could take care of his damn self thank you very fucking much and-

Mikey was staring at him, mouth open. Shit, had he said that out loud? His ears were still ringing. 

"...no good," Mikey's raw voice was saying. Raph's heart was pounding. 

"I'm not good enough, I just make things worse," that raw voice scraped, and then it was like a bad dream in slow motion. Mikey turned and ran, too fast to catch, out of the tunnel space beyond the lair, and Donnie and Leo were calling his name, yelling for him to come back.

The rain from the last few days had been slowly flooding the tunnels, and the splashing of distant cold water echoed in his ears and through his head. 

The world around Raphael sped up, and he lunged, howling his little brother's name. 

...

Chapter Text

Prologue

The day Michelangelo disappeared, Raphael yelled at Klunk for sleeping on his set of weights. 

It reminded Mikey to go to that one bodega, the one where the employees literally don't care that they're mutant turtles, where Mike actually made a friend and new comic supplier in one of the cashiers: a young guy who works all night and always smiles, breaking out in a dance after some transactions, who adopts stray cats and keeps the ones he can't rehome so now he and his husband own five: two gray brown and two orange tabbies that somehow all get along.

Who found Klunk after he ran away last month and gave Mikey free canned food, litter, and medicine because he sensed Mikey was different in several ways, and because Mikey always paid in crumpled damp small bills and coins, and the times it was a note bigger than a twenty were rare.

It was impossible for Mikey to hide the excitement and pride, and his cashier friend saw so much. He knew Mrs Morrison, for example, and he studied kickboxing and tang soo do, which got Raph visiting. Which alerted Don and Leo. Who received, respectively, a refurbished tablet of the latest high end model and a large bottle of sword cleaning oil.

They tried not to question. The young man quietly gave them discounts on everything.

He chirped with delight when Michelangelo called to say he was coming over for cat supplies.

He went to the back and got the newest issue of the comic they had both been desperately waiting for, the issue introducing a character Mikey had hoped for so much that one day Raph came into the bodega and grumbled that Mikey wouldn't shut up about the character and it was annoying, and so the bodega employee became something of a counselor, because he had the same kind of mind that Mikey had and the same passion Raph had, and he understood both of them.

His bodega was a powerful liminal space, Mikey had said once, which surprised Donnie, who didn't know that Mikey understood liminal spaces.

Mike, looking a little insulted, had said that contemporary comic books had become just as strong and heavy in how it applied words academically with just as good terminology, linguistics, and descriptions as any popular novel.

Plus, the beautiful sequential art, the colorful pictures created by talented visual artists just as valuable as the writers, enhanced the exposition in ways faaancy novels didn't.

Which had made Raph's jaw drop and Leo's head tilt. Donnie, with a huge grin and a shining expression, demanded a fist bump and asked if he had seen a graphic novel version of a popular chemist's work.

The bodega employee waited twenty minutes after Michelangelo was supposed to show up, and then he called Raph. 

Raphael went out to the living room and frowned at his brothers, who muted their movie and looked at him with concern. 

"Keno called me. Mikey's missing. He didn't show. Keno says there was no evidence Mike was around the bodega." 

Their friend was never wrong. 

They geared up to go on patrol. The search might take a while.

……

Beginning

Watching the young Mikey But Not Mikey vanish through that bizarre fizzling electromagnetic force field ripped through the air was absolutely not one of the weirdest things Raphael has seen in this long miserable life. 

But it was one of the saddest. 

One of them. 

The look Young Mikey gave them all right before, the I love you in his eyes and his smile, in the nervous lift of his hand, had been obvious even to Leonardo's poor vision, and at least the man had taken off those damned Matrix sunglasses for the farewell. At least they saw his clouded eyes and Raphael could finally forgive the agony that had replaced the arrogance. 

Even bitter, paranoid Donatello, hollow cyborg somehow emotionally revived by an alternate version of his beloved baby brother, had tears streaming down his face. 

It was heartwrenching, is what Raphael is trying to say. 

But fuck if he didn't feel so many beautiful emotions that were damaged twenty years ago. 

Mikey will go home. 

And soon, his Mikey, their Mikey, will be coming home to him. 

Sorry. Them. 

He has a Them for the first time in fucking ages. Leo and Don are right beside him. 

It's almost like they never separated. 

He supposes that is the whole point. 

One of the kittens he brought to the base is rubbing against his leg and he purrs back at it.

-

Donatello is so anxious it's becoming a low level terror. 

Raphael can feel it. 

Donnie's hands shake as he operates the portal controls. The technology they haven't been able to use during the reign of The Shredder is dusty and intimidating but stuff like that never seemed to bother the family scientist,  so why now? 

Raph wants to kick himself. Mikey, of course. Not just that precious sweet sunshine boy that had come to them from out of time but his Mike, their Mike... 

Leonardo is sucking in a breath as the portal finally opens, it's white and spiraling and Donnie is saying something but Raph can't hear it over the blood rushing through his head. 

It happens within three seconds. 

Donnie leaps to crouch right at the portal arms out, the light glinting off his prosthetic left arm and leg. 

Something bursts through, a figure, a form, a familiar shape that looks like his heart-

Donnie wraps his arms around the collapsing form,   to the floor, now cradling and... screaming? 

Raph blinks. 

Mikey is covered in scars and blood and black ichor and he's convulsing, and April is barking out orders and suddenly there's medics with a gurney... 

And all Raphael  can do is stand there and tremble. 

Michelangelo is home. His baby brother is home-

Raph doesn't realize he's crying until he's wrapped in Leo's arms, his brother trembling. 

Raph squeezes his eyes shut, presses his beak to his big brother's shoulder, and thanks the spirit of Klunk that Mikey is home.

-