Cold Fire Rising

Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

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"I'm here. I love you. I don't care if you need to stay up crying all night long, I will stay with you. If you need the medication again, go ahead and take it—I will love you through that, as well. If you don't need the medication, I will love you, too. There's nothing you can ever do to lose my love. I will protect you until you die, and after your death I will still protect you. I am stronger than Depression and I am braver than Loneliness and nothing will ever exhaust me." ― Elizabeth Gilbert

"Pain is a pesky part of being human, I've learned it feels like a stab wound to the heart, something I wish we could all do without, in our lives here. Pain is a sudden hurt that can't be escaped. But then I have also learned that because of pain, I can feel the beauty, tenderness, and freedom of healing. Pain feels like a fast stab wound to the heart. But then healing feels like the wind against your face when you are spreading your wings and flying through the air! We may not have wings growing out of our backs, but healing is the closest thing that will give us that wind against our faces." ― C. JoyBell C

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Michelangelo felt happy. He felt like he could be happy. He didn't know how long he had been doing this, hauling each little black square from the pile and adding to the neat stack in the corner. It felt like no time and forever. It didn't matter. The cubes glimmered with rainbow iridescence that called to him, and he found that he could ignore the thrumming as long as he focused on something positive. Anything. Even Raph catching him after a prank.

The little dungeon-like room was starting to feel comfortable. The rectangular cut in the ceiling, into which moonlight shone, had gotten bigger. He liked it. He hummed gently while he worked. If he could just stack as many blocks as he could, he would be able to, well, block it all. He could spread a happier light, maybe sunshine. All he had to do was stack them up, hide them well, shut the door, lock the door. Then happy. Happy happy.

Behind him, two voices coughed in unison, and he had whirled around and blended with the shadows before he realized.

One voice, low and androgynous, said, "You don't have to hide, you know."

The other, a rumbling sexually charged baritone, said, "What in Hera's name are you doing anyway, Sunshine?"

Melting out from the shadows, Michelangelo stared. "You guys? What are you doing here?"

Loki pierced him with those icy blue eyes and raised a slanted slender red eyebrow. "You first."

Sighing, Mike stepped in front. Loki was much, much taller than the first time he'd seen him. Maybe eight feet? He craned his neck. "Putting away the bad memories, duh."

"Seriously?" Pan rumbled, stepping in front and glaring. He was maybe an inch taller than the turtle, and had lowered his head so his ram horns were in a threatening position. His bushy brown eyebrows were raised, his furred arms were crossed, his goat legs were tapping a frustrated little dance. "You really think that works?"

Michelangelo shrugged. "It's always worked."

The two trickster gods stared at each other, then at the pile, then at the stack, then at the turtle.

"Mmm...nah. I don't think so." And Pan suddenly reached behind his back. Mikey tilted his head.

And he blinked. Wait...why was he drenched in cold water? And why was Pan laughing?

Another splash, and again, water dripped off his plastron. He didn't even have time to—

Ohhh.