Chapter Text
“Man I forgot that the rest of your family had powers,” Michelangelo said. “Hey Leo, why don’t we have powers? That’s so unfair.”
“I don’t think the guy that can turn into a dragon gets to talk,” Angelo said, frowning. He stared at the little cyan portal with longing.
“What?!” Leonardo said. “Mikey?!”
Michelangelo smiled up at him sheepishly.
Leo shifted his grip on Mikey, and then jumped to his feet, sword confidently in hand. Mikey clung to him, partly because he was beyond relieved to see his brother, partly because he knew that if he tried to stand or walk by himself, it was going to end with him falling on his face, and the last thing he needed on top of everything else was a broken beak.
Leo slashed at the air. A portal big enough for them to walk through rippled into existence. Leo kicked his pack through it, and then gestured with his sword.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said and then jumped through.
And then Mikey was finally home. He eyes watered.
The lair was a bit of a wreck. Weapons and gadgets and random doodads were strewn everywhere. It smelled stale. Cleanliness had clearly been the last thing on anyone’s mind. Leo stepped forward, avoiding all the things cluttering the floor with ease. He kicked his pack further to the side.
Angelo hopped in next. He whistled. “Nice place,” he said, admiring one of Mikey’s murals.
Leo walked towards the living room. He went to put Mikey down on the couch, but Mikey clung to him, stubborn despite the way his hands really weren’t able to clench correctly anymore.
“Right,” Leo said, a hitch in his voice. “Okay.”
He didn’t try to pry Mikey off. He settled on the couch with him, leaving plenty of room for Leonardo to set Michelangelo down. Michelangelo settled into the cushions agreeably.
“Don’t close the portal yet,” Leonardo said. “I’m going to help Big Mike in, and get my stuff.”
“Sounds good,” Leo said.
“Finally,” Michelangelo said. An arm twitched like he was going to reach for a pillow. “No more stone floors for us. Ha!” He slumped over to Mikey. “See? Everything worked out. Now it’s just the recovery period, and listen, kid. You got to be ready to milk it for all it’s worth.”
Mikey peered at him blearily.
“I don’t think I like where this is going,” Leo said. Leonardo’s pack flew through the portal, and following it, was Leonardo, supporting Michael as best he could.
“We’re the injured party!” Michelangelo said. Leonardo helped Michael into a nearby chair, and then he turned at the sound of his brother’s voice, an unimpressed look on his face. “Come on, kid. This is the time to force your family to bend to your whims. No demand is too crazy! I’m gonna make Raph make me breakfast in bed for the next-”
He paused. In a flash, Leonardo was there, shoving a trash can under his mouth. Michelangelo coughed hard, blood spewing down his chin. When he was done, his geniality dropped, and a truly miserable look crossed his face. He stayed limp, forehead pressed against the rim of the trash can as he tried to breathe. Leonardo set a comforting hand on his head.
“Get the Dons,” he ordered Leo grimly. Leo, still letting Mikey cling to him, leaned over to the side and slashed. In between blinks, his Donnie was there, chest heaving and with the wide, twitching eyes of a madman.
“What took you so long?” he snapped at Leo. His eyes fell on Mikey. His face spasmed. For a few seconds, Donnie looked almost incandescent with rage.
Mikey finally let go of Leo.
“Donnie!” he said, teary eyed. He reached out, and Donnie lunged for him, pulling him into the tightest hug Mikey thought he had ever received in his life.
“Hey careful, his arms are fried,” Leo said. Donnie ignored him.
“Don’t ever do that again,” Donnie snapped, shaking him gently. It still kind of hurt, but Mikey didn’t mind. “This isn’t allowed, okay?”
Mikey huffed a laugh, tucking his face into Donnie’s neck. “I didn’t get kidnapped on purpose.”
“We got to get him to the lab,” a new, soft voice said. Mikey turned, as much as he could in Donnie’s fierce embrace. Other Donnie, looking very much identical to his brothers, was crouched at Michelangelo’s side.
“Nice to see you too, Don,” Michelangelo wheezed. It was not so reassuringly accompanied by a mouthful of blood. Other Donnie’s lips pressed together in a grim line.
Mikey was thrust arms distance away from Donnie. He made a plaintive sound. Being held up by the metal battle shell arms wasn’t the same as a hug.
“Please tell me you’re not also coughing up blood,” Donnie said, examining him closely. In the corner of his eye, Mikey saw Leo slash open another portal. This time, two Raphs came barreling through, both of them jammed together like they couldn’t stand to wait their turn.
“No? Not yet.” Mikey said to Donnie. “It’s just my arms.”
The metal arms set him on the couch. Donnie crouched at his side, very gentle in how he maneuvered Mikey’s arm for all his frantic energy.
The Raphs made it in. A blur rushed towards Michelangelo, helping Leonardo support him as the four of them rushed for Donnie’s lab. Mikey watched them go, his insides tangled into sharp, worried knots. He felt like he had swallowed glass.
His view was blocked by his Raph. Mikey was plucked off of the couch, away from Donnie’s examination, something that made his brother squawk.
Raph was trembling hard, and Mikey had never felt quite so small in his brother’s arms before.
“Man,” Angelo said thickly. Mikey had almost forgotten about him. He could just barely see him around Raph. Angelo was sitting on the arm of Michael’s chair, leaning against Michael. “I’m feeling kind of homesick now.”
“Don’t I know it,” Michael said, subdued.
“Don’t worry hermanos. Nobody is going without help,” Leo said, not looking away from Mikey. “Just- just give us a minute.”
Raph shifted. Mikey lost his view of his other alternates as Raph nuzzled at his head. Raph was shaking because he was crying. Mikey’s brain stalled.
They were all here. They were finally home, and he was surrounded by his brothers, and he was being carried by Raph, and they all knew that that was the safest place to be. Mikey breathed hard, a sharp pressure building in his chest.
“Hey!” Donnie said. “We need to take care of his arms.”
He could feel Donnie and Leo hovering, both of them talking rapid fire about all the medical attention Mikey was going to need. They were all there. They were all really there. And they were going to fix his arms and stop all the pain that had been his constant for what felt like forever.
Mikey’s breath hitched, and suddenly Raph wasn’t the only one crying. Mikey hiccuped, pressing his face into Raph’s plastron. He knew that Raph wanted to pull him into one of his famous, bone crushing hugs, but he remained almost painfully gentle.
Donnie made a strangled noise, never one to know what to do in times of extreme emoting. But he was there, hovering, and trying to comfort him even as Mikey was mostly engulfed by Raph’s arms.
“Let’s get him on the couch and calmed down,” Leo said, firmly. “Here, pass him-”
Raph growled.
“Ok fair enough, big guy,” Leo said. Mikey was moved. Raph settled on the couch with him on his lap. “Hey Mike? I know everything must have been really scary.” The calm cracked, but stabilized. “I need you to breathe with me, okay? Wait. Breathe with Raph. In. Out.”
Raph breathed. The motion so obvious it should have been easy for Mikey to follow, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t even really sure where this storm of tears had come from. Even in the cell, he hadn’t cried this hard, but now it felt like he was physically incapable of stopping.
There were voices clamoring around him. Familiar hands rubbing at his head, offering comfort where they could, but it didn’t matter. Mikey couldn’t calm down, and it was getting harder and harder to breathe, and he was so tired, and the spots were growing in vision, and-
He was kind of glad that he fell unconscious. Then he didn’t have to deal with anything. By the time he woke up again, surely his brothers would have fixed everything.
——
It sort of felt like a betrayal when he woke up and things still hurt.
He was comfortable at least, tucked away on a cot surrounded by pillows and the softest blankets that they owned. He shifted, and his arm remained stuck. There was an IV in place.
He supposed in many ways he did feel less yucky. He felt cleaner for one, and the IV was doing its part to combat his pesky dehydration and, hopefully, his starvation. He blinked his eyes open.
He had known that he had made it home, but it was still comforting to see the ever present purple of Donnie’s lab. It was dark, only lit was by the little ambient purple lights Donnie had set up ages ago, and it was a cozily sort of cramped, with loved ones and Donnie’s wide rotation of projects scattered everywhere.
His alternates were scattered about. Michelangelo had his own cot, but Micheal was settled on the floor in a nest of blankets and pillows. Angelo was perched near him, slumped over one of Donnie’s inventions in a way that was probably inadvisable. He had a fresh cast, already scribbled with signatures and little doodles, and it dangled near a big red button on the machine he was sprawled over.
Donnie’s lab wasn’t big enough for the number of people crammed into it. Donnie was asleep at his desk, his laptop in front of him still lit up on what looked like an article about burn treatment. April sat on the floor next to him, leaning against his leg as she slept.
Raph was curled up on the floor, one of his faithful teddy bears in hand. Leo was sprawled on his shell, and Dad was curled up in a little furry ball in a chair nearby.
Michelangelo’s brothers were also resting near him, all in various, rather uncomfortable looking poses, taking up whatever space they could. Michelangelo’s neck and chest were swathed in bandages, and Mikey cringed.
But if he wasn’t stable then Mikey doubted his family would be comfortable enough to sleep. Whatever was wrong with him, while serious, wasn’t serious in a really, really bad way.
He could work with that. All and in all, this was pretty good. He squirmed, trying to get more comfortable and noticed that Raph had placed several of his teddy bears around his head. His arms were a dead weight, so Mikey had to bite at one of the bears to bring it close enough to snuggle.
“Orange?”
Mikey whipped his head around.
“Pops!” he cried. Leo twitched in his sleep. “Oh sorry,” he whispered. “Pops!” he said again but quieter.
Pops uncurled from his chair. He settled at Mikey’s side, reaching out to rub his head. Mikey beamed. Everything was really going to be okay. Dad was here. His family was here. He was home, and he was going to be okay.
“Do not worry,” Dad said. “I am sure that nothing will be able to wake them. Even when they are not exhausted, they sleep like the dead!”
Mikey chuckled. “Yeah they do! It’s all those years of sleeping through your snoring, old man!”
Dad laughed. He leaned in and gave Mikey a careful, warm, fuzzy hug. “You had us all very worried Orange.”
“I know, sorry Pops.”
“Not your fault,” Dad replied. “But if you want to make it up to us, then you just focus on getting better, eh?”
“Will do!” he said. “Side’s I promised the other mes that I would show them the Hidden City before they went home. And- and- we’re throwing a party, right? I was totally planning on throwing a party when I got home. With ice cream! And pizza!”
“Anything you want.” Pops sounded real serious. There was a voice in Mikey’s head, one that sounded like Michelangelo, that told him he should see how far he could press this. He should follow the wisdom of his older alternate. He shouldn’t let his sage advice from earlier go to waste.
“Anything you say?” Mikey said, batting his eyes. He was thinking of that last round of rat flu, the precious opportunity that Leo had so masterfully blown. “You know, Pops. This aught to be a real special pizza party. And the best pizza is homemade, and the best homemade pizza needs a very particular, brick pizza oven that would conveniently fit in that one empty corner we have in the kitchen.”
Dad squinted at him. Mikey stared up at him, trying to look weak and pathetic and in need of cheering up.
“I will talk to Purple about it,” he said. Mikey couldn’t actually pump his fist, but he did it mentally. He grinned. A whole new culinary world had opened up for him.
“Thanks, Pops!” he said, happy. Dad made a show of grumbling, but he leaned forward to tuck Raphs’s bears around Mikey’s neck and make sure the nest of blankets and pillow around him were as cozy as possible.
“Yes, yes. But to use it, you need to heal! Get some rest!”
“I am! I am!”
——
The next time Mikey woke up, there was a lot more hustle and bustle. He blinked his eyes open, turning to rub his face into the pillow to get rid of the crust that wanted to glue his eyelids together. The bears had fallen to wayside, dislodged during his sleep.
“He lives!” Angelo thundered. Mikey yelped. Angelo was perched near him, sprawled on the chair Dad had slept in with a smattering of Leo’s comics strewn around him. There was a certain carefulness in the way he looked at Mikey.
Mikey had already broken down way too many times about this whole situation. He didn’t want to be treated fragilely. At least for now. Later, he would probably appreciate it, but there was a clarity came after crying, and he was tired of feeling frail.
“Hey!” he complained, making sure he sounded playful. “Give a turtle a minute to gain his bearings!”
He sat up, feeling creaky. The room was emptier. Michelangelo was still sleeping on his cot, Donatello at his side, but their other brothers were gone as were Michael, Raph, Leo, April, and Dad.
“Give it to me straight,” he said to Angelo. “How long was I out? What year is it?”
“You were out for about eighteen hours,” Donnie said, materializing at his side. He poked and prodded at Mikey, peering into his eyes, taking his temperature. Mikey flinched away. When Donnie stopped his examinations, he leaned against his brother, looking at what Donnie was doing on his little wrist computer with interest. He did not understand any of it, but it looked all medical.
“Huh, that’s not too bad,” Mikey said.
A thought occurred to him.
“So it’s morning right?” he asked.
“More or less,” Donnie said. He was focused on his little wrist computer, looking between Mikey and the screen. He was tense. Worry was giving him a Raph chasm. Mikey didn’t want Donnie to be tense and sad.
“You know what that means,” Mikey said, brightly. He had the perfect distraction. “Breakfast! It’s the most important meal of the day!”
No one could be sad with breakfast. It was the best and most important meal of the day. Mikey was thinking eggs. Mikey was thinking bacon and pancakes and waffles and parfaits. It would be perfection.
Angelo slumped. Donnie froze. Based on their faces, apparently some people could be sad about breakfast.
“What?” He looked between them.
“None of us get to eat real food,” Angelo said. “Not even me! It’s terrible. Haven’t we endured enough cruel and unusual punishment?”
Donnie hunched. A complicated expression passed over his face.
“But- but-,” Mikey said, feeling genuinely upset. Food was going to be the ultimate sign of not being in a prison cell anymore. “Donnie I haven’t eaten in a million years!”
What exactly was he supposed to do? Continue to starve?
“Exactly,” a soft voice interjected. Donatello was there. He gave Mikey a warm smile. “It’s been too long. Solid food would be too much of a shock to your system and it could be really serious. The IV should be giving you all the nutrients you need for now. We’re going to start with some light broths then work you up to eating solid food.”
“Man,” Mikey said, dismayed.
“Makes me feel like some kind of baby,” Angelo said disgruntled. “Trust me, Doctor Don. I can take it. Let me at the pizza. Just let me at it. I’ll show you. It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”
Donatello shot Angelo an exasperated look. “We’ve been over this, Angelo.”
“And that lack of control is why you are locked in here,” Donnie informed him.
“Hey! Locked! Have a little respect for the trauma, dude! I’m scarred for life after all that.”
Angelo nudged Mikey with his foot. “Back me up, mini me.”
“Yeah!” Mikey piped in. “Uh. What he said. It was scary being locked in the cell, and real food it better than-”
“It could send you both into organ failure, so no, I am not letting either of you hurt yourselves. It’ll happen over my decaying corpse,” Donnie snapped. “You will not be getting pizza, or anything else until I say so, and that’s-”
He cut himself off. Mikey knew his eyes were moonwide, shocked at the outburst. Donnie looked away. On his little wrist computer, there was a dizzying amount of medical data.
“Sorry, Donnie,” Mikey said.
“No, no. You don’t have to apologize,” Donnie said. “I-”
“I know I worried you, D,” Mikey said, softly. He pressed against Donnie’s side, a substitute for a hug.
Donnie closed his eyes. He backed up abruptly, and Mikey fell forward a bit before he stabilized himself. “I need to check on the Raphs and Leos.”
“What?!”
Donnie turned and rushed out of the room. Mikey turned to Donatello, baffled. Also worried about Donnie. He hadn’t meant to upset his brother, but he had gotten lost in the levity of his banter with Angelo. Of course making light of the situation was upsetting for his brother, especially since Donnie was the one who prided himself on expecting the unexpected and countering it.
Angelo scratched at his cast. “My bad. Did not mean to upset the frazzled Donnie. Though granted, my Donnie is way more frazzled. You should hear the pitch he hits when he gets overwhelmed or angry. It’s amazing.”
Donatello sighed.
“We may be your brother’s alternates but perhaps you could treat the fifteen year old a little more gently,” Donatello rebuked.
“Right, yeah, no. That’s fair.”
“I didn’t mean to upset him,” Mikey said, crestfallen.
“This is an upsetting situation,” Donatello said.”He’ll be fine. The first kidnapping is always tough on the family.”
“You know that doesn’t make me feel better. Don’t call it the first kidnapping. It makes it seem like there’s going to be more,” Mikey said, frowning. Donatello winced, his face twisting with apology.
“Yeah, well, based on turtle luck and how our timelines have played out there’s-” Angelo looked at Donatello’s unimpressed face. “There’s no chance it’ll happen again. None whatsoever. What’s kidnapping?”
Donatello sighed
“Nice save, goofball.” Donatello gently cuffed Angelo on the head. It looked more like a head pat to Mikey. Angelo stuck out his tongue.
“Hey! Abuse of the invalid! Not cool!”
Mikey laughed despite himself, and Angelo turned to grin at him. In the corner, Michelangelo snoozed on. Mikey wasn’t sure if he was just sleeping or unconscious, if he was able to wake up at all.
“Is your brother okay?” he asked Donatello.
Donatello nodded, still smiling. “It was one of those cases where it looks worse than it is,” he said. “Don’t worry.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Donatello confirmed. “Leo said that he had turned into his dragon form right?”
“Yeah!” Mikey said, enthused. “It was incredible! I was all tied up in the soul sucking ritual circle thingy, and Sybil the evil goat yokai was like ‘Ahhh I’m going to harness your power for evil’, and I really thought I was a goner, and then all of a sudden. Bam! Michelangelo is a dragon and tearing up the place! He was really cool and he saved my life!”
“Rub it in why don’t you,” Angelo complained. He stretched out, legs draped over the arm rest and face twisted in mock anguish. “I can’t believe I missed it.”
Donatello’s smile got a little tight. “He is cool, isn’t he? But don’t tell him I said that.” He winked at them. “It’ll give him a big head.”
“I promise!” Mikey lied.
“Our dragon transformation happened for a very specific battle,” Donatello said. “We haven’t been able to access it since. Now your dimension is filled with this mystic energy. My working theory is that even though Michelangelo isn’t from this dimension, the mystic energy gave him the boost that he needed to be able to transform.”
Mikey nodded. That made sense so far. More or less. Just because he knew how to use mystic energy didn’t mean he knew how it worked.
“But,” Donatello continued. “We really weren’t supposed to regain access to those forms. They were supposed to remain dormant and inaccessible, so it resisted Michelangelo’s attempts. Even so, he brute forced it, so it didn’t happen as seamlessly as it should have. He, well… He got stretched.”
“What?”
“Our dragon forms are a lot bigger. And our necks especially elongate. It happened aggressively enough that it split some tears into his esophagus.”
It took a second for that to sink in. The mental images of soft, internal skin splitting was not pleasant.
Mikey squealed. “Oh I don’t like that! What! It stretched his neck till it split?”
“Essentially yes.”
Mikey shuddered. “That’s worse! How is that not the worst. I hate that.”
“The tears were relatively minor. It was bleeding into his stomach. I’ve since sewed them up, and they should heal.”
"How could he even talk?"
"Michelangelo doesn't do quiet," Donatello said dryly.
“That’s why he couldn’t move either! All his muscles got spagettied,” Angelo interjected. “Like on those medieval stretcher torture racks.”
Donatello nodded. “Close enough.”
“Do you think he’s taller now?” Mikey asked before the insensitivity of his words caught up with him. He squeaked, retracting his head into his shell a little bit.
Angelo cackled. He rolled in his chair, crushing one of the comics. For his sake, it better not be one of Leo’s favorites.
“I hope not,” Donatello said, but he was also amused. “I’ll be sure to bring up the possibility.”
“Oh man! Oh man!” Angelo said. “That would be amazing. Hey I want to be taller. Teach me the way of the dragon. I’ll also accept learning your mystic power, Mikey. Can someone please just give a super power. Please.”
“Michelangelo’s throat split open!” Mikey squawked. “Don’t go dragon!”
“I said I’ll also accept learning your limbo!”
“It’s ninpo!”
——
As much as squabbling with Angelo was entertaining, Mikey couldn’t help but notice how much time had passed.
“So where is everyone else?” he asked.
“Oh, the Raphs and Leos and I think your April, Splinter, and then some other guy went to explore the compound and double check that…” Angelo said. Donatello hummed in assent. He had long left their conversation and was pouring over medical research next to Michelangelo.
Mikey’s heart lurched. “I don’t want them near those yokai. I mean. Raph and Leo can take them on no problem, but-”
Donatello froze. He pushed his research away and then he and Angelo exchanged a glance.
“What?” Mikey looked at them looking at each other.
“Well,” Angelo hedged. He fiddled with his cast, pulling at the uneven edges of plaster. Donatello left his research and his brother to join them again, and tugged Angelo’s hand away.
“Mikey,” Donatello said gently. “You collapsed the compound.”
“Yeah?”
Mikey stared at them. They stared at him.
“Man,” Angelo said. Mikey narrowed his eyes at him. He knew that tone. That was the ‘I know something you don’t, but I really think you should already know about it already’ tone.
“Angelo said that you had left the yokai trapped inside,” Donatello said delicately.
“So?”
“So don’t you think they’re a little… squished?” Angelo said. Donatello sighed. “Though granted. It’s never clear cut with the bad guys. They always seem to wiggle their way out.”
“We do too, at least,” Donatello said.
“Oh true! But it’s funny when we get to surprise a villain with our survival. It sucks when they do it.”
“I wasn’t trying to kill them!” Mikey cried out, finally getting it.
“Buildings collapsing usually kills people!” Angelo said, not helping.
“They’re yokai! We collapsed Draxum’s lab and he was fine. I threw a cargo ship at Shredder and he was fine. I threw the Empire State building at the Krang and he was also fine! The compound wasn’t even very big. They’re still alive! I didn’t want to kill anyone!”
Donatello reached out, rubbing at Mikey’s shell in sympathy. When the words sunk in, his hand froze.
“Empire State Building?” he said, bewildered.
“We are so outclassed in this dimension,” Angelo said, but then he grinned, bright and excited.