Chapter Text
Conscious is not a lull of soft music beckoning his mind forward slowly. It is a crescendo of terror that strikes its chords suddenly, painfully.
Someone is setting fire to his skin, he is sure of it. There are flames eating away at his flesh and he tries to scream, to beg for it to stop with fingers curling and claws unsheathing to dig into the splintering wood underneath him. There is pain and he is terrified, but it isn’t stopping, why isn’t it stopping –
“Hold him! I need to clean –“
“Don! He – blood –“
“Painkillers – nothing –“
“Michelangelo.”
Michelangelo’s throat vocalises the agony raking through him in a shriek and a wail. He thinks he opens his eyes but cannot process the images in front of him, only purples, reds and blues. His body arches and writhes when he begs for an escape. Something strong pins him down, its rough touch adding fuel to the inferno of pain. He can’t move, he can’t get away, he can’t breathe. Breaths are stuttered, palpitations setting the beat of his heart.
“He can’t –“
“Breathe!”
“Donnie! The mask –“
“Breathe!”
“There’s nothing! I’m sorry – dying – “
“Breathe!”
Distantly, he realises something is shoved over his beak. Hands beat against his chest. He tastes copper as he coughs. He chirps and wails again, over and over until, with a stab of agony that feels like hot iron, conscious is ripped from him again. The last thing he feels for a long time is a warm hand clutching his, and salty tears dripping onto his plastron.
~
Knitting needles click rhythmically as an experienced hand weaves orange threads together. The stitches are refined and tight, each one lined with a fierce compassion. Clicking and clicking, the knitting needles perform the same routine, the wood clenched tight within a green set of hands which shake with the force of the grip.
“Someone hold him down!”
Raph’s hands reach out before his mind can catch up; pinning Michelangelo’s writhing arms to the operating table in Donnie’s lab. The genius himself is fixing an oxygen mask to Mikey’s face and shoving an IV in Leo’s arms. Raph feels hot tears break free from his eyes as he hears his little brother’s pained whine shift into a desperate scream.
“Donnie!” Leo is yelling, eyes fixed on the blood splattering the oxygen mask.
He’s using wool for the blanket he knits. It’s a rare find, and he had been saving it for a special occasion, or something. He can’t fully remember. All he knows that it will help create the softest blanket he can manage, coloured in a bright orange.
The figure on the table no longer resembles the brother he had grown up with. Gone is the life humming through every limb in twitches and stims. Deep green scales now look almost grey with clotted blood in each crevice. Ugly wounds litter his skin. Raph feels bile rise in his throat looking at them.
He drops a stitch. Raphael stares the half finished blanket silently for a few moments in a numbed state of mind. He should go back and correct his mistake, but that would mean breaking the shaky rhythm of weaving the threads he had managed to establish, the only thing grounding him from letting his fear release itself in an explosion of rage. Wood splinters in his hands until he lets the needles drop to the ground with a loud clatter.
He knows he will never forget the frightened, agonised baby blue eyes connecting with his own amber for a fraction of a second. He won’t forget his youngest brother’s body slumping suddenly from its seizing state, or the way Donnie – calm, logical Donnie – had grabbed Mikey’s shoulders and shook, tears bursting from his eyes as he begged him to hang on. Genius abandoned in that second, looking up to Leo for guidance as their youngest was dying in front of their eyes, even after everything they had gone through to bring him back –
He wants to snap them. Snap the flimsy wood and stomp on the remains with as much strength as he could muster. But that would mean he wouldn’t finish the blanket, and Mikey wouldn’t be comfortable in resting. Raph settles for gripping his arm hard, feeling the familiar sting of his claws digging into his skin.
And Leo staring blankly at Michelangelo’s body, unsure, insecure. Not their leader but a brother that has witnessed the horror of the youngest falling victim to senseless cruelty.
Four times.
They had to listen to Mikey’s heart stop four times.
The farmhouse had nothing but a first aid kit, a few emergency rolls of bandages and stitching kit. A place for relaxation, it was poorly equipped in the face of tragedy. Mikey had been lay down on the dining table as Donnie worked with what he could.
“I thought you would be here.” Is what Leo greets Raph with when he opens up the wardrobe he had walked himself into. Because Raphael had been a coward, and ran as soon as Donnie placed the final stitch in Mikey’s mauled neck.
Raph grunts, tucking his legs in and gripping the blanket. He was becoming overstimulated with the sudden light that shines through the doorway. He hears Leo hum, and a second later his dorky brother is clambering next to him in the wardrobe and shutting the door. There isn’t enough room for them both at all, but Leo manages it because of course he does. Supreme ninja and all that, he blames.
Still, the steady pressure of Leo’s plastron pressed against his bicep is grounding, chasing away some of the hot anger underneath his skin. Emotions begin to untangle, just a little, paving the way for the guilt that had been devouring him for the past few hours to come fourth once again.
“He’s still stable. Critical, but stable.” Leo answers the unasked question a little too calmly. His expression falters when he sees the scratches on Raph’s arm and tries to take the limb to get a closer look. Raphael tugs away.
“Raph –“
“No.” Raph spits out. He grabs the knitting needles again and tries to rethread them. “Just…no.”
Leo doesn’t press it. Just watches Raph quietly. The hothead is reminded of when they were all still kids, huddled in a box together as Master Splinter was out scavenging. They are the boldest memories he has of their early life; Leo’s arms wrapped around them all, Don’s shell pressed against his plastron with Mikey curled in his and Raph’s arms.
“How…” the question of “how is he” dies in his throat because the answer is obvious. He curses. “Did Don say…?”
“Most of the damage was from the bear trap and the…the dogs.” Leo swallows thickly. He’s looking stoically at the wall as he speaks, his voice dulled. “His neck is the biggest issue – Don said that his throat is pretty torn up, so eating and talking will be hard for quite a while when he pulls through.”
No if. When he pulls through. Raph envies Leo’s confidence, his assurance that only an older brother can provide.
“His leg is also concerning – you saw it.” Leo sighs, lowering his head. “The muscles…it’s bad. Really bad.”
Dread pools in Raph’s chest. The horrific injury of pulsing blood and splintered white bone flickers in his mind until he screws his eyes shut. The subtext in Leo’s answer is clear.
Those bastards. Those fucking bastards. They permanently disabled his little brother, maybe even halted his career as a ninja altogether –
What is Mikey if not racing through the rooftops with leaps and cartwheels. How do you tell someone so active, so energetic that they may never be able to use their leg in the same way again all because some humans were bored.
“You made them pay, didn’t you?” Raph asks into the quiet. Leo doesn’t answer for a long while.
“They met their demise only after slow suffering.” The eldest replies. “They won’t hurt any of you again.”
Silence falls over then again.
“He looked at me. Just before he –“ he died, is what is on the edge of his tongue. Raph shakes his head with a shaky sigh. “He was so scared and hurt and I – I hate it!” Raph snarls. “And I ran instead of staying there like you and Don cos I was too much as an asshole to even –“
Raph screams. Digging his hands into his eyes, he screams for Michelangelo, his youngest brother who never did a goddamn thing wrong besides be himself, but was dragged through hell and back.
“You were scared.” Leo soothes. Somehow he’s managed to shift himself so he’s wrapping an arm around Raph’s shoulders. “You were afraid. But you weren’t a coward.”
“Why does it have to be him?!” Raph can feel tears spill from his eyes now. Emotions are rolling through him like a great storm, plucking up every piece of him and mixing it around until he isn’t sure what is supposed to go where. Leo is in its eye, pulling whatever remains close and piecing him back together.
“I don’t know.” Leo’s voice cracks. “I don’t know.”
“You’re scared too.” Raph says after a moment. The sentence is slightly muffled from the hands covering his face, but heard all the same. His eldest brother stiffens.
“I have faith that –“
“Cut the “I’m the leader so I have to stay strong” bullshit for a minute, yeah?” Raph pries his face from his hands. Leonardo is staring at him, trying to keep his face blank as a weak façade of confidence. “I don’t want that. I want my brother. Not some unfeeling replacement.” Raph hesitates, then presses closer. He’ll make sure to threaten his brother later to never speak of it, sure, but for now they both seek the comfort of each other, physical and emotional. They’re both a wreck, just crumbling in different places.
“I didn’t protect him.” Leo whispers just like they are kids again, revealing secrets under bed sheets in hushed voices. The mask falls almost painfully until Leonardo only remains, the leader persona pulled away and leaving him raw.
Leo breathes a sharp breath and folds against Raphael. Together they rest against each other in a dark wardrobe, trying to push away the crushing guilt that coils around them both.
~
Donnie is collapsed against the bed that Mikey rests upon when Raph enters the room. It’s actually Leo’s, but he had offered his bed up immediately due to it being the largest.
The blanket is folded into his arms tentatively, complete. It almost slips from his hold when he catches sight of his youngest brother lay down so small in the bed, pale and lifeless. His scales looked almost waxen, dark bags under his (now exposed, with no mask) eyes. Thick bandages were wrapped around his throat and body, his leg raised with a cast wound tightly around the compound fracture that lurked underneath. All his gear had been removed, leaving him disturbingly vulnerable.
Raph presses a hand against Mikey’s cheek. It rests for a few seconds before he reluctantly removes it to drape the blanket around his youngest brother’s body. With Don sleeping fitfully beside him, Raph takes a moment to untie his bandanna.
“You kept fighting.” Raph says. The blazing red material is wrapped around Mikey’s wrist. “You better get up soon so I can tell ya how proud I am.”
Donnie shifts. It’s then Raph realises his genius brother isn’t asleep, but shrouded over Mikey in silent vigil. The genius releases his desperate grip on Mikey’s hand to untie his own bandanna and fold it over the youngest’s plastron.
Don looks awful, but Raph supposes they all do. He’s not going to point out how Donnie doesn’t say a word, how he’s still covered in dirt and dried blood, or the fact that his eyes look so worn it almost makes the anger rise in himself again, a rage against whoever decided that his youngest brothers needed to suffer so much. Raphael shudders to think about the horrors Donatello had been subjected to, sewing his only younger brother back like he was a broken toy and cursed with the burden of knowledge that he was the decider of life and death on that cold table.
Donnie looks away from Raph. His gaze is disassociated, distant. He hugs Mikey’s ininjured arm like a lifeline, curling next to it. Raph sees the way Don’s fingers slide so they are pressing on Mikey’s pulse point and remain there.
Finally, a third mask is tied to Michelangelo’s other arm, a rich blue. Leonardo is carefully tying the knot, vowing under his breath.
“If one of us go down, we all go down.” Is all he says.
It’s true, Raph realises. Such a small sentence carries the weight of their entire family, their bonds, their life. They are connected, spirits intertwined and woven into a roaring dragon that few can pass. Unravel the thread and the pattern collapses, growing holes and crumpling to the ground. Mikey is their youngest, their heart – the one that Raph seeks the presence of in those dark nights where the inky blackness is suffocating, his own personal spot of light. It’s hard to explain or to describe. Try to describe a sapling’s relationship with the sunlight, or the tide’s relationship to the moon.
“It is more courageous to overcome.” Leo murmurs as his hand traces Mikey’s cheek. He straightens the blanket and then moves to sit in between Raph and Donnie.
The next sixteen hours are spent in silence, all brothers staying at their youngest’s side.
~
“Mikey!”
Raph snaps from his hazy half-sleep at the sound of Donnie’s cry. His body lurches forward, eyes searching wildly to see if Mikey was okay, please don’t let his heart stop again –
But Donnie is smiling, almost throwing himself at the bed because Mikey’s eyes are open, shining with life.
Confused, injured and exhausted, Mikey probably has no idea why his three brothers pull him into a (very delicate) joint hug. Raph can hear Donnie crying, Leo’s long sigh of relief, his own churr of fondness sounding at the back of his throat because Mikey’s skin is no longer cold.
“Huh?” Mikey mumbles, eyelids already dropping. He winces, a hand fluttering over to rub his neck which is wrapped in layers of bandage.
“Don’t. You’re hurt.” Leo soothes. Mikey is looking around, breathing deeply. Raph’s heart twists at the clear pain he’s in; there is nothing they can do until Master Splinter returns with the equipment they asked for. Their father had been distraught at the news, immediately calling Casey and April to help in obtaining transport save enough for Michelangelo to be moved in.
“Lee…h’rts…” Mikey twists, panting.
“I know, I know. You are not alone, don’t forget.” Leo is once again impossibly calm in the face of his youngest brother. Raph knows better, now; he can see the way his hands tremor, the way his eyes shine with tears that refuse to fall. “We are with you. Rest.”
“‘K…” even in his current state, Mikey doesn’t disobey an order from a big brother. “R’ph? Don?”
“Right here, bro.” Raph says, clasping his shoulder. Donnie gives a small smile.
“Always.” He says. Mikey chirps, which they all echo instinctively.
“‘K.” Mikey repeats. He’s out like a light. Good.
Donnie collapses on a chair like a puppet with its strings cut. He laughs, which turns into a dry sob.
“Geez, Don.” Raph sits at his side and throws an arm around him. Leo stays with Mikey but reaches over with his spare hand to rub Donnie’s shell.
“Sorry – I just –“ Donnie pulls a hand down his face. “I really was scared that – because there is no proper medical equipment here, and the severity of his…condition – I thought –“
“Told ya, he’s fighting. Still fighting, even now.” Never had his red mask been worn by one who deserved the title it held so much as Mikey. It is still on his wrist now, as are the other masks of his brothers.
“He’s still got a lot of fighting to do.” Leo says softly. However, his eyes are light with trust in his own words. “But we will be there to hold him until he can stand on his own again.”
“Damn right. Mikey’s never known the meaning of ‘quit’. He ain’t gonna learn that now.” Raph feels Leo’s confidence lift his own certainty. Mikey doesn’t know when to quit – a trait that is usually an annoyance is now a lifeline.
Mikey’s going to recover, despite all the odds, because Mikey it just wired that way.
~
Wind whips past his face, a biting cold that sharpens Raph’s breath and bursts his body into life. It’s been too long since they’ve scaled rooftops, but it wouldn’t feel right without all of them together as one.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear, Raph recalls as Mikey limps next to him and tugs as his bandanna.
“Why you –“ the insult dies on his tongue at the sight of his youngest brother’s beaming smile – a smile he thought he would never see again, let alone on these rooftops.
“Remember, don’t do a Leo and push yourself too hard.” Donnie scolds when he finishes climbing up the building. Leo follows after him with an offended “I don’t know what you’re talking about” that makes Mikey grin.
“Nah, I’m not that stupid, give me credit!” The taunts of the younger are not as loud as they used to be, not with the damage to his throat. It’s barely heard over the whistle of the wind but Raph and his brothers have learnt to listen harder within the past two months. “Raph’s the dumb one!”
Raph grins. He’s missed this, so, so much.
“Don’t make me push you off the roof, knucklehead.” He playfully growls. Mikey, with all of his theatrics, takes a few steps back whilst raising his arms in surrender. Raph tries not to pay attention to the obvious limb he carries, or the way his leg is tightly bound in support bandages. He knows it has been bothering Mikey, so he doesn’t patronise and tell him to take it easy. At least, not for now.
If Mikey ultimately does something stupid, he might have to reconsider.
“Please don’t push anyone off any roof. At least not within the first hour.” Leo scolds. Still, the hypocrite gives Raph a playful nudge on his way past. Raph almost tackles him.
“Just stakeouts tonight. Hun’s been sneaking around again.” Leo doesn’t say why they aren’t planning on high level activities. He only pauses rather suddenly, staring at Mikey.
“What? Have I got something –“ Mikey begins to joke but sobers up when Leo darts towards Mikey and hugs him tight. Raph steps back, pulling Donnie away to give them a little privacy.
He is relived to see the stoic façade that had been glued back together for the past couple of months fracture again, hopefully for good this time. Leonardo is seeking his own reassurance that only his youngest brother can be. Mikey takes this in his stride, expression softening.
“Hey, I’m okay.” Mikey reads their emotions like a book. No words are needed between them to explain all of Leo’s doubts and troubles. Mikey just hugs, pressing their foreheads together.
“I know, I know. It’s just – ugh –“ Leo pulls away from the hug, placing a hand on Mikey’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you with us again. All of us. Where we belong.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Donnie quietly adds. He glues himself at Mikey’s side again – the genius had basically been Mikey’s new shadow as of late.
“It’s good to be back.” Raph agrees with sincerity.
The moon illuminates the rooftop and they all take a moment to gaze at the view. Leo’s arms wrap around them all, Don’s shell pressed against Raph plastron with Mikey resting against Raph’s and Donnie’s arms. Together as one, as they always should be.