Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Fan Fiction ❯ 3 Weeks ❯ 16 ( Chapter 16 )

Alright, you guys, this is Chapter 16, and I'm incredibly excited to bring it in! After posting number 15, I realized that my plans for the remainders were incredibly vague. So I had to go back and try to elaborate on those before continuing. My fingernails are now thoroughly chewed upon. Anyway, let's continue.

 

Disclaimer: I made a detailed check of my bedroom and belongings, and the only turtle-related thing I am in possession of is the one DVD. No copyrights, no trademarks or whatever else it is you put into these things.

 

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Mikey found it hard to believe that Raphael was really alive and back in the lair where he belonged. After the past 3 weeks of endless frustration, of guilt and disappointment and preparing for the worst and going through all-out hell, half of him expected to suddenly wake up, exerting a death-grip on Raph's pillow, having dreamed that particular night's events. That was the kind of luck he usually had, after all. His imagination tended to leave him stranded in all too realistic nightmares involving his brother's untimely demise.

 

When he wasn't dreaming of countless terrible happenings, he dreamed of finding Raph and rescuing him, or that Raph's disappearance had all been a dream to begin with and he was just waking up from it. Michelangelo wasn't sure which of these dreams was the worst to face and which was the worst to wake up from, only that it felt like he'd go completely crazy if he had to put up with them much longer. Which was why, after everything that had happened, it was surreal to be sitting in the infirmary, keeping watch over his unconscious sibling. Dreams could be crafty like that, he figured: even almost 30 hours after bringing their missing brother home, the youngest had his suspicions as to whether this nightmare was really over.

 

Casting cautious glances about the small room, not wanting to get caught in the act, the orange-banded turtle reached forward and gently prodded the darker green hand. His finger met soft, albeit cold, undeniably living tissue. Upon confirming that his brother was, indeed, a solid physical presence, he withdrew his finger and proceeded to give the skin on his wrist a hearty pinch. Not quite smothering a small yelp, the youngest turtle noted with satisfaction that the scenery hadn't vanished or started changing around him, that monsters or aliens or clowns hadn't suddenly popped out of the woodwork, and sat back with a slight smile. If he'd tried that while Raph was awake, the hotheaded turtle probably would have smacked him upside the head and told him how stupid he was being. That would really only be more proof that he wasn't asleep, Mikey considered, pursing his lips thoughtfully: definitely a thought to put aside for later.

 

As it was, that would have to wait until Raph woke up. He shifted in his chair, casting a long, analyzing glance over his injured sibling. Donnie and April had done a phenomenal job with patching Raph up, making sure not to overlook any injuries and taking no chances when it came to infection. The second youngest turtle had been cleaned and stitched and bandaged with the utmost care. Looking more closely, they'd probably overdone the bandages just a bit. From what Mikey had seen of it, Raphael's entire frame from the waist to the neck was completely covered in strips of red-tinted white. Of course, based on prior experiences, he thought it was probably wise to take the `better safe than sorry stance' when it came to any of Raph's injuries. His brother had always had what was referred to as `turtle luck' in spades, which never turned out well when paired with both how often he attracted trouble and how often he simply went looking for it. They'd learned it was best, therefore, to never underestimate his ability to pick up remote infections in the least likely of situations. There was no such thing as too many precautionary measures.

 

Blue eyes followed the line of the IV drip to the clear plastic baggie it was hooked up to. Donnie had gone into some long-winded explanation of what was in it and what it would do, but Mikey hadn't paid attention to what he said. He trusted his genius brother to know what he was doing and not to do anything potentially dangerous to Raph, so he hadn't seen the point in memorizing a bunch of facts that Donnie would just check up on by himself anyway (he'd been coming into the infirmary to check on Raphael every hour on the hour, regardless of who else was on watch). That was usually the case with Donnie's scientific explanations, after all. He didn't take unnecessary risks with his inventions or security measures, so why would he suddenly decide to take chances with his brother's life?

 

What the orange-clad turtle had been more interested in was how his brother had come by professional medical supplies. They'd probably been stolen, but then again, Mikey reflected, he hadn't asked about their origins. The purple-banded turtle hadn't offered any answers on his own, either. He wasn't so concerned, though, because Donatello wouldn't steal supplies without leaving some kind of note or compensation: the genius was way too nice to leave a hospital or ambulance staff-member unknowingly short on something. So the youngest turtle didn't let himself worry about it, even though Leo had cast Donnie a particularly sharp look as the baggie was unveiled.

 

Ah, Leo, Michelangelo thought with a rush of well-intentioned annoyance, smiling to himself. Once they'd been assured that their brother would, indeed, pull through, the leader had gone into full-blown mother hen mode on their asses. When Splinter had emerged from the lab, he'd insisted on taking the next turn watching over Raph, leaving no room for objection. In the end, it had taken the combined efforts of Mikey, Master Splinter and threats of sedation from Don to pull him away from the infirmary bed after his watch ended.

 

If the situation had been different, they might have let him hover obsessively and stew in guilt like he normally did, but there was no denying that he needed sleep and (not that Mikey would have said it to his face) a shower. He had been the last one to wash off the remnants of their brother's blood, and it relieved the orange-banded turtle to no end to see the entire family more green than red when the leader emerged once more. Mike had never been particularly fond of seeing blood on the outside of someone's body. The thought was even more pronounced when his family was involved, and he'd definitely gotten enough of blood to last a lifetime by now. With a shudder, Mikey fought down images of a spreading dark pool around his brother, eyes sweeping over the still, blanket-wrapped figure once again.

 

Still breathing. Good. A small wash of relief swept through the youngest turtle, followed up with a surprisingly powerful wave of burning anger. His fingers curled up into fists of their own accord, eyes narrowing dangerously. As far as Mikey was concerned, he should never have to be so relieved to hear one of his brothers just breathing. Raph breathing should have been the kind of thing they were allowed to take for granted, just like his foul language and quick judgment calls on strangers and the stupid daredevil stunts he pulled on his motorcycle. They shouldn't have had to search the city for 3 weeks just to find him, shouldn't have had to pull him out of the clutches of a psychopath with a knife and hope they'd make it home in time to save him. None of them had ever even heard of Richards, yet somehow they'd found themselves invariably involved with the man, the one man in New York crazy enough to think they were some kind of pet.

 

Michelangelo wondered why it was that life was allowed to be so overwhelmingly unfair, and began to seriously consider the merits of taking the initiative and growing up a little. For as long as he could remember, he'd always been the baby: the one allowed to stay knee-deep in comics and video games, the one with the ability to get himself both in and out of trouble in a matter of minutes, the brother who, even now, was fiercely looked after and protected in battles. He wasn't even sure when the decision had been reached, only that he had woken up one morning and found himself to be dubbed the youngest of the clan. This didn't annoy him as much as the fact that he'd somehow been left out of the decision-making process. All in all, he probably shouldn't have been surprised; it was a natural development, most likely a result of his determinedly carefree nature, and his brothers and Master Splinter had always done everything in their power to protect that.

 

Raph, especially, had the tendency to ignore the fact that he was capable of taking care of himself (for the most part). Despite any loud protestations to the idea, he'd probably taken one of the biggest parts in Mikey's admittedly spoiled upbringing. Sure, he could be rude, blunt and ruthless, and sure he was usually the first to jump his little brother and swap insults when the situation allowed it, but that wasn't all he was good for. There were few things he took as seriously as his position as Mikey's big brother. He'd staked a protective claim over the youngest from day one, always the first to confront imaginary monsters under the bed, always managing to get himself between the orange-banded turtle's shell and an overlooked enemy, a solid wall of defense who made it his business to have his brothers' backs.

 

Surely there was something to be said for being able to protect him in return, Mike considered bitterly, especially when he so rarely needed somebody to do it. The brother who, out of all of them, took protecting the city the most personally, who always tried to separate himself and his problems from everybody else, who tried to ask for help without actually asking. And somehow, when he'd needed it the most, Mikey hadn't been able to do anything. If there was one thing the youngest hated, it was being helpless to do anything for one of his family members when they had always done so much for him. It had always seemed like such a terrible way to show his gratitude; like when they hadn't been able to stop the Shredder from blowing up April's apartment building. After all she'd done to help them out when they didn't have a place to go, they couldn't even keep her from having the same problem.

 

But, he supposed, the past was in the past and there wasn't anything to be done about it now. A small frown turning down the corners of his mouth, he reached forward again, gently straightening Raph's blankets. Just like with April's apartment, just like with Richards; all that was left to do was take care of what they could still take care of. His glance passed over the older turtle's face, dropped to the floor, then shot back up with a sharp intake of breath. He pulled his hand back, scrambling to his feet excitedly as he caught a sliver of amber color from beneath struggling eyelids. Mikey stuttered for a few moments, mind frozen and his capacity for speech temporarily abandoning him before he scraped together his composure once again.

 

“I, uh-Raphie? Can you hear me?” Dark green head shifted slightly, eyes cracking open into little slits as they adjusted to the light. His heart leapt into his throat in excitement, pounding painfully, and the youngest cracked a smile. “Right, just hold on a sec, don't go anywhere- wait, of course you're not gonna go anywhere, what am I thinking, you're home and everything- just stay put, or, uh, never mind, I'm gonna go get Donnie, okay?” He fumbled out, stumbling over his own two feet as he scrambled for the lab door. Raph just blinked rapidly in response, eyes showing a small amount of surprise as they traveled over his surroundings, flickering in recognition.

 

If they seemed a bit lacking in other emotion, Mikey figured it wasn't anything to worry about. He was probably just confused.

 

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There you have it: the 16th chapter! There are either one or two chapters upcoming, I can't decide if I want to add another one in or not. The original plan calls for only one chapter after this, like an epilogue or something, but I'm considering one more between now and then. Sorry, I know I'm rambling, just letting you know that I'm still deliberating, so this is the only chapter I'm posting today. I know, I know *insert sarcasm here* I'm SO terrible about updating lol.

 

Comments, questions, criticism, I appreciate any and all reviews and opinions. Especially wanting to know if my Mikey's too OOC. Never considered myself a very strong Mikey-writer, you know? Anyways, I'd appreciate the feedback, but it isn't a demand. Just having readers is surprising enough lol (^-^)