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Raph had seen his bros take a lot of hits to the noggin.
Like. A lot of ‘em.
Too many to be kind of, like, good and shit, but the motion stands.
So while he’s fending off the last of the foot, shoving them over the roof, he watches as Mikey gets a direct smash by a bat across the head, only for Donnie to pop out of nowhere and send them flying.
But it’s too late, and the goober is already tripping, splaying across the ground and losing his nunchaku as his gaze-open, now that his mask had slipped-slides up to meet Raph’s.
And for a moment.
For a moment, there’s this…look he has that pisses Raph off.
It’s this dumbfounded look of ‘why did you do that?’, as if Raph himself had stuck his foot out to trip his baby brother, as if he’d shoved him in the path of the bat himself.
What the shell, he wants to scream, his voice caught in his throat. Why are ya lookin’ at me like that! All dumb and stupid and…and…and afraid!
And he does open his mouth.
He opens his mouth and barely gets out “What-“ before Mikey’s eyes roll up to his head, and his body stretches out like he’s trying to do a pirouette on the roof again, and one hand is curled into a fist while the other seems to search the roof, reaching for him, and his teeth clatters and his body’s shaking and-
“DONNIE-! SHIT, DONNIE!” he shouts because this isn’t a little brother about to piss off an older one with a made-up argument, this is something new and horrible that he hasn’t seen before and he’s throwing his sai into the roof before he slams down on his knees (he really shouldn’t be doing that, getting too old to do that) and he’s reaching for his little brother who hasn’t said a word but is violently tremoring-
Donnie’s bo slaps his hand away. “Don’t,” he says, sliding into medic mode before Raph can bite at him protectively. He slides into view as well, and Raph can hear Leo’s swords clanging with the last of the foot. “The bat may have caused some damage, he’s having a seizure.”
He bites down on the what’s and the why’s and the demands he wants to make. “What d’we do?”
“Help me gently guide him on his side, otherwise he’ll bite his tongue out.”
They end up rolling the orange-banded turtle to face them, his legs twitching like a frog as they tuck his hands in. His eyes still stare up at Raph with some question in them, and Raph ignores Donnie trying to tell him not to as he clasps his hand over the searching one gently, muttering reassurances to him as Donnie checks the time, watching over him intensely.
Before even a minute passes, Mikey’s body relaxes into the dirt and grime, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes in a large breath that sounds like it takes every ounce of his energy to do so. Raph feels like all the rocks in his chest have been let loose as Donnie cups Mikey’s cheek. “Don’t shut your eyes. Look. Can you talk yet? Talk to us, Mikey. What year is it?”
Raph’s not sure you do that for a concussion, or a ‘seizure’, but he’s not a medic either so he hears Mikey mumble his way through some answer, his hand lacing with Raph’s as he wheezes into the New York air.
Leo finally joins them, looking over the strange huddled forms with a frown. “What happened?”
“Fucker knocked the baby on the head with a bat,” Raph mumbles, and Mikey shivers violently for a moment, Donnie’s hand on his shoulder before he forces him to roll on his plastron.
“Upchuck coming.”
Raph holds in the instinctual ‘eeewww’ that wants to come out of him as Mikey, quivering and unable to hold himself upright, is held tight to Donnie’s plastron while also holding Raph’s hand as all the udon and pizza comes right back up.
Leo clicks his tongue, heading over quickly and rubbing a hand over his head gently, both calming and to check for a bump. “Get it all out, Mikey. Big bump right there. Might have to pull in Leatherhead, this might be out of our field of knowledge.”
Donnie nods, and they wait for Mikey to quit throwing up, gasping his way through it as he shivers. “…wanna go home,” he slurs out, his head limply laying on Raph’s shoulder when he gets close enough, and that’s just far too much not-Mikey that it makes Raph instantly tug him away from Donnie and heft him up onto his shoulder.
“Let’s get outta here,” he mutters, no quip on his tongue as Mikey shivers violently, reminiscent of the seizure, but it’s only because he’s cold now as he mumbles, weak arms wrapping around Raph’s shoulders, and he’s out like a light before they even hit the manhole.
(Mikey spends an absolutely horrendous week shifting from absolute terror at falling asleep and drugged sleepiness as Leatherhead checks him over. They won’t know entirely the damage the seizure has caused, nor the concussion, but when the end of the week comes and he’s pushing a comic into Raph’s face to whine about how they ‘butchered my hero, he would not freaking say that!’, he thinks their baby brother’s on the road to recovery.
…the bat-wielder of the foot gets his ribs broken by a little too hard swing from a bo-wielding pacifist.
Shouldn’t have messed with the baby, after all.)