Thirty-Third and a half Theory [Action/Illusion]

[i_speak_softly]

[Today Donatello is lying on the couch in House 55, staring into space. He's sick and he knows for a fact that he's hallucinating, so he will not be at all disturbed by anything that might present itself to his vision. It's only a product of his feverish brain, after all...]

((Go on and barge into his house, fourth-wallers. Replies may not be entirely coherent, but they will at least be agreeable.))

Comments

[hiddenbadass]

[Sorry, Donny. He needs to know. Now.]

... Stealing Bishop's train car? But he isn't--

[And then Mike goes extremely silent, but eventually almost whispers.]

When he captured Karai?

[i_speak_softly]

Yeah... [Something that's been slowly seeping through his fever-fogged brain finally reaches his consciousness.] Mike, you have no arm.

[hiddenbadass]

[And Mike goes stalk still, just staring down at Donatello with what could only be described as a horrified look because Donatello doesn't remember him. And, until the last few moments, he thought he did.]

[i_speak_softly]

[Don pulls back. It's a sensitive subject, obviously, but he couldn't not ask.]

... Mikey?

[hiddenbadass]

You don't remember.

[i_speak_softly]

No... Maybe Raph does...

[hiddenbadass]

[Mike's just quiet. Again. Until....]

Don, the last thing you remember happened over thirty years ago.

[i_speak_softly]

[Congratulations, Mike, you just made Don's brain explode.]

You're forty- -- [His ability to do math fails.] Over forty?!

[hiddenbadass]

[That somehow makes him feel a little better, having Donatello react in shock like that. It was kinda funny.]

Almost fifty.

[i_speak_softly]

[He grabs compulsively at Mike's other arm.] And the rest of us?

[hiddenbadass]

[Mike jumps slightly, but doesn't jerk his arm away.]

Raph and Leo are older, too. You just came back without aging a day.

[i_speak_softly]

[His head drops forward to thump against Mike's plastron. Alive. His brothers are all nearly fifty and still alive. Somewhere, sometime, he must have done something right.]

[But still.] That's not supposed to happen.

[hiddenbadass]

[More like that's the one thing that they managed not to screw up. Staying alive, if even sometimes only barely.

Slight snort.]

You're telling me.

[He does shift his arm back around sickly Don so he doesn't fall over. Or something. Now that Don's pretty much curled up with him, he's remembering he used to love physical contact like this.]

[i_speak_softly]

And you don't remember being here before?

[hiddenbadass]

No, I don't. Don't remember the wings, either.

[He was in another place before this. But he was human there. It didn't make any sense.

Also, he might be shifting his arm just enough that he can poke one.]

[i_speak_softly]

Ow. [Apparently being sick makes the wings even more hyper-sensitive than they already are. He pulls them flatter against his shell.]

[hiddenbadass]

Sorry.

[Very slow blink.]

... Those are weird, Donny.

[i_speak_softly]

Everyone has them. [He casts a glance over Mike's shoulder.] ... You don't have them.

[hiddenbadass]

[There's the briefest of smiles.]

'cause I'm unique.

[And then it's gone.]

[i_speak_softly]

[If his brain were working, Don would be extremely worried by this. As it is, he accept Michelangelo's explanation.]

You always were.

[Just cuddling now, please?]

[hiddenbadass]

[Mike is not used to all this cuddling, but he isn't pushing Don away, either. He makes himself a bit more comfortable.]

My own turtle.

[It's weird, saying these things after so long. And so he grows quiet.]

[i_speak_softly]

[Mike may be thirty years older and minus most of an arm, but his heartbeat is the same as ever. Don drifts off the familiar rhythm.]

[hiddenbadass]

[It takes Mike a few moments to realize that Donatello has fallen asleep on him, and then he just stares at his brother in surprise. But even after all he's been through, after all that has happened, still feels natural. Like it's supposed to be.

As the shock wears off, and where no one can see him, Mike's eyes slowly soften. He shifts Donatello just enough so that the sickly turtle won't fall over. Mike knows he'll probably end up sick, but for now, he doesn't give a damn.]

... I missed you too, Donnie.

[He leans back with his brother and doesn't plan to move anytime soon.]