Chapter Text
Mikey sat in the medbay, watching tiredly as everyone's injuries were tended to.
Leo was undoubtedly in the worst condition, he had a concussion, contusions, broken leg and ribs and fractured skull who knew what else.
And Donnie had some lacerations on his softshell from the ship; open sores and wounds that were starting to ooze gross pus and plasma. Yuck.
Raph also had some tearing around his eye and definitely some injuries inside his eye too. Not to mention the gaping hole in his nuchal scute and the long crack in his plastron.
April had some bruises and a few scrapes, same as Casey Jones Jr. But nothing terrible.
Splinter had that one injury earlier, but it seemed to have healed itself long ago. Gotta thank Barry for the mutations whenever they get the chance...
And Mikey?
Mikey felt... fine...
...for the most part.
Okay, okay, he was kinda frazzled. His arms ached and his hands burned like he'd been roasting them in a pizza oven for an hour, and sure his head pounded after that one hit that the Krang Prime gave him (and even though Donnie had been shielding him, the Krang's fist came crashing through the ninpo force shield like it was glass, sending both Mikey and Donnie reeling in the sky, knocked unconscious for a few moments before waking up again on Staten Island with Raph's ninpo arms surrounding them), and his chest kinda hurt from the impact too.
But mostly he was tired. Absolutely bone-dead exhausted.
And weirdly warm. It was a little hot in the lair, which struck him as odd. But then again, the Prison Dimension -- at least, from what Mikey could feel through the portal and from the few ramblings Leo gave about it -- was soul-chillingly cold. Mikey could feel shivers just thinking about it.
He couldn't stop shivering. Huh.
But mostly Mikey was tired. Really tired. Like he might actually... uh... ffffall assssleep.............
"Mikey?"
"Mikey?? Yo, Michael!"
Mikey's head snapped back, causing him to snort as he gasped. He blinked several times before his vision refocused. Donnie was standing in front of him, waving his hand over his face.
"Michael? You okay?"
Mikey blinked again. The words weren't wording. What had Donnie asked him?
"...Uh-huh," he mumbled. "I'm good. Just sleepy. I think I wanna lie down..."
Donnie peered at him, eyes squinting with suspicion.
"I don't think that's such a good idea yet, Mikey. You may have a concussion, we need to check first."
"Mmmmkay," Mikey hummed, his eyes already drooping closed despite his best efforts. "Jus'... jus' wake me up when... when you..."
"Mikey," Donnie scolded, grabbing him by the arm.
Donnie reeled back, gasping as he inspected his hand. Dee touched Mikey's arm again. It was hot. He pressed his hand against his cheek. Mikey hummed at the cool touch, leaning into it drowsily. He really didn't feel good. Mikey whimpered in discomfort as Donnie's brow furrowed.
"Mikey, you have a temperature."
Mikey blinked slowly at him.
"Uh... a temp'rature? Hhhhow bad is it?"
"We'll check. April, can you find the thermometer? Mikey seems to have caught a cold."
"A cold?" Mikey heard Casey Jr. ask from across the room. He sounded nervous. "So soon after the attack?"
"I don't know for sure. He's burning up. He might have just overworked himself to the point he caught something. Doesn't that happen to humans sometimes?"
"Yeah, but not you guys," Casey retaliated. "Your immune systems are too strong for that."
Mikey was too tired to keep his eyes open. Mikey was too tired to keep his head up. He slouched over, head dangling loosley to the point his chin was tapping against his plastron. After a few minutes, he felt someone bring his face up and squish his cheeks with their fingers.
"Come on, buddy, open up for me..."
Mikey opened his mouth. A cold object of glass with plastic is gently pushed into his mouth and under his tongue. Mikey closed his mouth around it, his teeth gently keeping it in place as it bumped uncomfortably against the part of his tongue that connected to the floor of his mouth... what's it called... Leo would know. Or Donnie.
Mikey's head rolled to the side, tipping him over. Someone caught him.
"Whoah, woah bud! You need to stay awake for just a bit, m'kay? Just sit up for me... there we go, that's it... Keep the thermometer in place..."
Mikey mumbled something at her. At April. It was April holding him up.
"Yeah, I know it's kinda uncomfortable in there. But just a little bit longer. Then we can take it out and get you something cold to drink."
Mikey's hand pointed to his mouth as he mumbled again.
"What?"
"He's saying it's poking him in the underside of the tongue."
"...lingual...frenulum..."
"Thank you, Nardo, now lie back down."
Ah. Thank you Leo for knowing what that was.
Unless that was crazy-concussion-mixed-with-wildly-powerful-painkillers talk.
Sounded like it. Could be. What even was a bilingual fremulon?
A moment later, the glassy-plastic bit of the thermometer was pulled from Mikey's mouth. Mikey managed to open his eyes just long enough to see April and Donnie's reactions as they looked it over.
Wide eyes and pale faces. April pursed her lips before her jaw dropped, she gasped quietly and covered her mouth. Dee's jaw was set, he swallowed nervously. They looked at Mikey and then at each other. And then back at Mikey.
Mikey didn't hear what they said. He was... too... tired......
Mikey fell over. This time, no one caught him.
Or he passed out before he could feel someone catch him.
Mikey woke up covered in sweat, raspy breaths escaping his exhausted lungs. There was something wet on his head. It had been cold once, but now it was getting a little warm.
Water dripped down every part of Mikey's face. Droplets rolled into the cracks of his eyes, the corners of his mouth, down his cheeks and across where his nose would be if he had one.
Uggggghhhh, he did NOT feel good.
His head.... hurt.... pounding relentlessly, it ached... all of him ached....
His ARMS....
There was a white-hot burning sensation in his hands and arms, growing all the way up to his shoulders. His chest felt pretty hot, too.
He felt sickly. Gross, churning sensations in his stomach that threatened to make him gag if he moved the wrong way. Yet he could do nothing but writhe uncomfortably as the aches and pains that filled his entire being slowly drove him insane.
Mikey's eyelids were heavy as lead. It was a painful challenge to get them open.
Everything was too bright. Everything was too blurry.
Everything stung.
Mikey closed his eyes again, hoping that would fix it. It didn't. The painful stabbing sensation was now stuck under his eyelids. Tears started pooling and spilling down his red-hot cheeks.
Someone must have heard him crying, because a hand was cupping his cheek and wiping the tears away as they replaced the damp cloth with an ice pack.
"...when did he say he'd be here..."
"...couldn't get here soon enough..."
"...the line's busy..."
"...Barry..."
Mikey could just barely catch bits and pieces of conversation. They'd... called Barry? Baron Draxum.
Mikey loved Draxum very much. He was like a second father to him. Technically he was a father, since he'd been responsible for their creation. Did that make him a... a step-dad? Surrogate father?
"More like a doctor who delivers newborn babies, but yeah."
Who said that?
"Just me. Hang in there, Mikey, Draxum is on his way here, he'll figure it all out."
Figure... what... out?
Why did Mikey ache so much? Why did his head hurt? Why was every inch of him scalding hot? Why.... wwwwhy was Mikey so...... tired.....
"You're okay, you'll be okay. I promise."
Thhhhhhhat'snotananswerrrrr....
Mikey could feel the hand return to his cheek. It pressed against his face, holding it gently and rubbing the long square thumb over his skin.
It was so cool against the flames under Mikey's skin... please don't let it leave...
"I won't leave you. Don't worry."
Mikey didn't even know who this was...
It made him cry.
"I told you, it's me."
Mikey cried some more. That didn't tell him anything, he --
There was a loud sound, like a door being slammed open. A new, deeper, gruffier voice came into the room, demanding answers.
"Where is he?!"
"Ah, Barry. So glad you're here. You know, the point of giving you a cell phone is so you'll answer it when we call you in emergencies --"
"Where is he."
"Aggravated sigh, he's over here."
"What's his temperature at now?"
"106º. If he reaches 107º --"
"That's when brain damage begins to occur. Yes, I know. When did he start showing symptoms of fever?"
"Just a few minutes ago, when we got back from Staten."
"Let me look at him. Move aside."
Mikey heard Donnie huff angrily and mutter something about 'please and thank you never hurt...'
Baron Draxum's clawed hands began to scan over Mikey's body, gently lifting his arms and tracing over the cracks that had started growing all over him. Mikey managed to open his eyes enough to glance up at him.
"hhhhiiiiiii, barry....!"
Draxum turned his head and offered a meagre grin. It was barely reassuring. Mikey grinned back, lifting a hand to reach for him. Draxum took Mikey's shaking hand, which was glowing bright gold and yellow sunlight and hot as a fire poker.
"This is mystics at work," Draxum announced.
"Duh. Hence why we called you," Donnie snarked. "What we want to know is how do we stop it."
"It's a mystic fever caused by overuse of mystic abilities," Draxum explained, matching Dee's snarky tone. "There are different side effects for everyone based on the nature of their mystical abilities. For example, someone with water-based abilities could undergo severe dehydration after overworking themselves. Michelangelo's ninpo primarily revolves around mystic flames and fire, so it seems his body's reaction is intense fever, burning him from the inside out. A sort of heatstroke."
"That's great, how do we heal him??" Donnie retorted.
"The same way you treat any other fever," Draxum explained. "Just... much more so. Keep his body cool as possible. Fever reducers may help, but not the human kind. They aren't strong enough. We'd need Yokai medications, I can quickly run and check if there are any heavy-duty ones..."
"How long would this last?"
"I doubt his fever will last any longer than 24 hours at most. It should break by tonight if I stay on top of it."
"You?" Donnie asked. "Are you playing nursemaid tonight?"
"I assume that you have your own injuries to tend to, correct? You need to be checked on yourself, I am the only extra set of hands available, and I know what to do in this situation."
Donnie sighed and nodded.
"Okay. Okay. Thanks, Draxum."
"Of course. I can't have my creations getting damaged now, can I?"
"lllloveee youuuu tooooo, barryyyy," Mikey murmured.
Draxum tightened his grip on Mikey's hand. The corners of his mouth turned up, and the furrow in his brow relaxed gently.
"Go get me the human child."
"Which one?"
"Which -- how many do you have in your home? Never mind, whoever is less injured."
Donnie squeezed Mikey's hand before dashing away.
Wait, where was Dee going?? Mikey wanted him to stay, M-Mikey wanted --!
"He'll be back soon," Draxum comforted.
Mikey must've said that aloud...
Mikey's head rolled around on whatever he was laying down on. A bed. A table. A cloud. The floor.
"It's a cot," Draxum interrupted.
He said that out loud again, huh?
Draxum pat his hand gently. A reassurance that his rambles were okay.
Mikey's hands were so hot. Everything was so hot, hot, hot...
"I know. We'll take care of it."
Casey Jones Jr came into the room, lead by Donatello.
"Who are you?" Draxum asked curiously.
"Casey Jones," he answered.
"We already have one of those."
"Huh?"
"Never mind. Donatello, stay by Michelangelo's side while I fill in the human on what to do. Then you can leave to have your own self attended to."
Donnie nodded and went to take Mikey's hand, talking to him and replacing his ice pack with yet another damp cloth.
Mikey couldn't stay focused, lost in the sound of Donatello's voice mixing with the soft mumblings of Draxum and Casey in the corner. The room kept tilting and spinning. His thoughts were all over the place, not one tangible or easy to hold on to.
Mikey drifted in and out of reality. He wasn't sure when Donnie left, but eventually he realized there was no discernable pressure surrounding his palm, which meant no one was holding his hand, which meant no one was there which meant that no one existed which meant no one loved him which meant which meant which meant which which which meant whicn meandt wnhicna mdewnag whichna emeabd meant nyeha
"Get him some ice, quick!"
whihc meahn hwhicn meant wgich meant qwuich meang
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh
why was mike y lke thisssssss
hot hot hot hot hot hot jot ho t obg
"Okay, I got the ice now what --"
"We need to cool him down! Start wrapping the ice in hand cloths and mini towels, put some on his head and the rest around his body."
"Wait, where are you going?!"
"To get a bath started!"
"What?!"
mikeys hands hurt. evreyhting hurt. ccccant fefefeel hands anymore. ow. ow. ow. ow.
whne did the worlf dtstart distorting??
ow. ow. ow. haed hruts. ow. ow. ow.
mikey crying. mikey shivering. cold. cold. cold. helps.
cold hurts. but cold helps.
head stull hirts.
"I got you, Michelangelo, don't worry... does that help the headache?"
yyyyyyessss? Sort of. It's still cold.
It helped the outside of his head. The inside of his head still hurt a lot.
"Okay. I'll see what kinds of pain relievers we have --"
"Casey Jones, help me carry him to the bathroom."
"Wha-huh? Why?"
"We're giving him an ice bath."
Mikey's body was jostled and half-carried, half-dragged through the hallway.
Why was it so bright? Caaaaaaaan ssssomeone turn down thhhhe lights?????
"It's not the lights. It's you."
It took Mikey until they reached the bathroom to realize what Draxum meant.
Mikey was glowing so much, he was blinding himself.
Uhhhhhhh... that's probably not good.
The bath faucet was running. It was so loud.
The noise didn't hurt, but it was agitating. Stressful to hear. It sounded like an angry monster.
Mikey's heartbeat sped up, he lifted his hands to his tympanum to muffle and mute the noise.
He couldn't stop shaking.
His body constantly shifted from far too hot to far too cold.
But mostly hot.
It was just inconvenient. Annoying. And so overwhelmingly painful that it became his entire existence.
Every moment was a temperature that engulfed him.
Burning.
Melting.
Fire.
Molten lava.
The surface of the sun --
COLD.
FRIGID.
REALLY REALLY --
Hot again.
"Okay, get him to the tub."
Hands grabbed Mikey by the arms and helped him to stand. Take one step. Two. Three. Into the water --
OH GOD IT WAS SO COLD.
Mikey's body became shivers and nothing but. His vision spotted over and he crumbled into the water like shattered ice.
Casey cried out for him, nervous. Draxum insisted he was okay. Mikey didn't know who to believe.
The bath was so cold. It's too cold. It hurt. It hurt. It... it...
...It helped.
Mikey calmed after a while. His hands, which had been burning the most, are comforted by the chill. Mikey was made to lay down a bit more so that his whole body immerses into the water. Draxum said something about how they need to keep his core cool, that the bloodflow from his hands will affect his heart so they need the blood in his heart to be cool first and blah blah blah blah echo echo echo fourscore and seven dreams ago...
Mikey drifted again.
The bath was nice.
Soothing. Quiet, after the faucet of evil noises had died.
Casey and Draxum discussed things amongst themselves.
Mikey wished he could sleep. But his brain buzzed around uncontrollably. He tried to focus on anything other than his own thoughts. If he listened to his delerium-riddled brainwaves, he'd get lost in the garbled nonsense and have an anxiety attack again.
Mikey always got anxiety attacks with these stupid fevers and delirium. His thoughts were already hard to keep track of, random junk just popping in and out at the speed of sound. But at least when he wasn't sick, they were comprehensible. Usually. But not when he's sick. When he's sick, whatever filter that his brain used is gone and...
and, uh
uhhh
too many thoughts.
try not to think.
...how, exactly?
Oh yeah. Listening.
You can't think if you're paying attention!
Mikey forced himself to listen to what Draxum and Casey are saying. Listen to the water splish and splash around him. Listen to the AC vents gently blowing cold air into the room. Listen to himself breathe.
After several minutes, Draxum reached over and felt Mikey's head.
"He's doing better. But we still have a lot of work to do. Human child, go find something for Michelangelo to drink."
"Anything specific?"
"Cold drinks. Water, preferably. But anything works. We need to keep him hydrated. Avoid anything with caffeine or sugar."
Casey noded and dashed away.
Mikey exhaled deeply.
He was... just so tired...
Casey came back in and he and Draxum forced a straw into Mikey's mouth and told him to sip. Mikey was too tired to sip. He sipped. Begrudgingly.
Draxum and Casey discussed something and Casey left to go get some fever-reducing painkillers for Mikey. Draxum would get some stronger Yokai medication later. Mikey's thoughts wandered in the silence that followed. He writhed in the cold bath from the pain and shivers. Casey returned with a few pills and more water to drink, as well as a plate of crackers. Mikey couldn't have the pills on an empty stomach, apparently. He almost choked on the crackers, but managed to eat three. He was allowed to take the pills. He drank the whole glass of water.
Draxum had Casey get more water. Mikey waited for the meds to kick in. Why couldn't they be instant? Casey re-entered the bathroom with the items Draxum requested. They made Mikey drink some more.
Draxum sent Casey out for something. Mikey tried not to go insane from the delirium or the pain. Casey came back. They took care of Mikey.
Draxum sent Casey out for something. Mikey tried not to go insane from the delirium or the pain. Casey came back. They took care of Mikey.
Draxum sent Casey out for something. Mikey tried not to go insane from the delirium or the pain. Casey came back. They took care of Mikey.
They took care of Mikey. Casey sent Draxum out for something. Mikey went insane from the delirium or the pain. Draxum came back.
Mikey sent Mikey for Mikey. Mikey tried not to go Mikey from Mikey or Mikey. Mikey came back. Mikey took care of Mikey.
Hot, cold, hot, cold.
Draxum sent Casey out for something. Draxum sent Casey out for something. Draxum sent Casey out for something. Draxum sent Casey out for something.
Mikey tried not to go insane from the delirium or the pain. Mikey tried not to go insane from the delirium or the pain. Mikey tried not to go insane from the delirium or the pain. Mikey tried not to go insane from the delirium or the pain.
Casey came back. Casey came back. Casey came back. Casey came back.
They took care of Mikey. They took care of Mikey. They took care of Mikey. They took care of Mikey.
The bath was emptied.
...When did that happen....?
Mikey was lifted up and carried bridal style to his bedroom.
There were six fans already blowing in the room. Ice packs were waiting for him. A special cold-retaining pillow had been placed on his hammock.
Mikey was laid down. The painkillers finally kicked in.
Michelangelo started to fall asleep...
Draxum gave some final instructions to Casey before leaving to get the special supplies from the Hidden City. Play some music or a trashy TV show for Mikey to listen to. Nothing too engrossing, just something he can focus on to help with his delirium. Keep him cool. Keep him hydrated. Keep his legs elevated higher than his heart. Mikey doesn't understand that part.
He didn't have to.
Mikey drifted away and fell asleep.
Hours later, Mikey woke up, once again drenched in sweat. But this time, he was doing better.
For one thing, he wasn't excessively glowing anymore.
The cracks that had threatened to spread all across his body had vanished. Only the small remnants of the wounds on his arms remained, though they too were quickly disappearing.
The aches and pains that had wracked his body were gone, too. There was a slight headache, but nothing too terrible.
Mikey slowly sat himself up, balancing on his elbows as he looked around the room. It was empty. The fans were still going. To be honest, Mikey was now chilled to the bone. He got up and turned all but one of the fans off.
There was a blanket on the floor. He couldn't remember if he kicked it off while sleeping or if it was thrown there before he got into bed so that he wouldn't overheat again. Either way, it's there. And Mikey wanted it. He shakily picked it up and wrapped it around his shoulders like a cloak.
Mikey wondered where everybody was now. The lair was so quiet... Did Draxum ever come back? Where did Casey go? Was Donnie doing okay? The events of the day prior slowly came back to his memory.
Oh, pizza supreme.
Mikey... Mikey felt so bad. Immediately after an alien invasion, Mikey upheaves everything and gets the worst fever of his life. Just perfect.
He meandered out of his room, shivering and quivering as he trembled away.
The whole lair was dark and silent. Mikey poked his head into the medbay. Leo was asleep on the gurney with Raphael snoring beside him holding his hand. Splinter was also in the room, cleaning up. Mikey thought he should say something instead of just... creeping. But he wasn't sure what to say, and didn't want to get in trouble for sneaking around or make another fuss after all that happened. So he just left.
He kinda wanted something to eat. Something cold. Maybe a pizza slice... that sounded good... cold pizza. Yum.
Mikey waddled sluggishly into the kitchen and started rummaging around. There should be some leftover 'za in there somewhere...
"Mikey, what are you doing up?!"
Mikey bibulously turned his head around to stare at the origin of the voice. The speed caused him to go a little lightheaded, and black spots prickled at the edges of his vision. His head rolled limply on his noodle neck as he tried to stand upright. It was Donnie. Mikey smiled gingerly.
"Heeeeyyyy, Dee-Doodles...."
"Mikey, why are you up?"
"...Hungry."
"Go back to bed, Mikey."
Mikey 'awwwwww'd at him before Donnie came over and gently guided him back to bed, turning the fans all back on and helping his little brother climb into the hammock.
"Blank't," Mikey mumble-yawned. Fortunately, Donatello was able to translate and wrapped him up like a softshell taco. He pat his head, cautiously checking for any out-of-the-ordinary temperatures.
"Your fever's almost gone," he whispered with relief. "Congratulations."
"M'sorry I got sick n' stuff," Mikey mumbled into the covers, snuggling deeper into his cocoon.
"Wasn't your fault, don't worry about it. Just get some rest."
Mikey nodded and shut his eyes.