Cold Fire Rising

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

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Of course they still hadn't found the pieces they needed. Of course the Triceraton black hole generator was scattered through many planets. Of course they needed their space suits to travel.

Leonardo missed the planet with the silver trees and golden sky, and the incredible food. He couldn't remember its name.

The only strong memory was Michelangelo's blood pouring everywhere, and the mystery injection, but Mikey had asked for that recipe and...

At some point during those seven hours in the infirmary, April had come out to the main area, her hands shaking, fingers gripping a blood-stained piece of paper. Shakily, she had asked if anybody had wanted to try cooking the meal that Michelangelo had so happily queried after at the pub. Nobody volunteered. Nobody wound up making the meal.

Everybody was going to wait until Mikey wanted to make it himself, because everybody knew Mikey was the chef, and nobody wanted to eat a new recipe that Mikey had not made.

Everybody was desperate for Mikey to wake up. Honeycutt said that was not going to happen, not for a while. How long was a while? Nobody answered. When Donatello muttered that due to the average turtle's need for hibernation when wounded, it could be as long as three months, the same amount Leo spent in the farmhouse bathtub after Shredder's brutal attack. But Leo's wounds had not actually been this terrible. For Leo, it had been about recovery, which was how he had been active the day he regained consciousness.

When Michelangelo eventually regained consciousness, he might be unable, incapable, of leaving the infirmary at all for a long time.

Leonardo swallowed hard. These lumps in his throat were getting harder and harder to push down. These tears in his eyes were getting harder and harder to stop from falling.

He had listened to Raphael angrily sobbing in the holodeck when Raph didn't know Leo was there. He had listened to Raphael fearfully crying in the infirmary, a completely different sound for Raph. The hothead hated to cry at all. Angry tears during a fight was one thing, letting out frustration and letting in relief. But crying openly, out of worry and fear and pain... Leo admitted that even he didn't like it. It felt too much like weakness. And warriors could not be weak. They were Ninja.

They had lost their sensei.

They had lost their home.

That day, they had cried. Yes. Not even hot cocoa helped, not really, even though the wide smile on Mikey's face was Leo's calming focus. For all the teasing, the insults, the irritations...

Leonardo shook his head, as a memory surfaced forcefully.

"I don't want him and I'm in charge!"

"Why am I always stuck with Mikey? Raph you take him."

"Over my dead body..."

"Y' know, I'm startin' to think nobody wants t' be with me. Fine! I'll just go on my own. Heh. That's a closet."

"And that's why nobody wants to be with you!"

Leo squeezed his eyes shut and a tear finally slipped out. They should never have been so harsh. Yes, Mikey was impatient, impulsive, often immature, impetuous, random, distracted, noisy, nosy, sometimes thoughtless. He did have ADHD, after all. But their words had been hurtful. Mikey was brilliant, joyful, stunningly intelligent in much different ways than they were, playful, agile in thought, consistently positive, managing to pull the family together with a joke or two, able to take the worst situations in stride. Leonardo recalled how Mikey was determined to accompany him during the battle with Mega-Shredder, how horrifying it had been to watch Mega-Shredder swallow Mikey whole. When Mikey emerged from that gigantic mouth, breaking teeth and howling victory, it was like exhaling a breath Leo hadn't realized he had been holding. Mikey was good at what he did. Mikey was the best at what he did. And what he did was magic.