Turtle out of Time

April’s shirt was so damp with sweat that she wondered if perhaps Mike did have an argument, after all, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. Besides, they were in the sewers. Everything was damp, and in her experience it was best not to think too much about why.

She pressed her aching back flat to the wall at first, hoping the cold cement would offer some relief, but all it really did was make her shudder. So when Mike made his inevitable offer, she gently faceplanted into his shoulder, gingerly shielding her broken arm with the other.

April was so tired, but everything that hurt was shouting at her. Finding a comfortable position didn’t feel humanly possible right now.

“Don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep,” she mumbled, letting her eyes flutter closed anyway. “Even with my favourite turtle pillow.”

“Well, even if you don’t manage to sleep, just resting some will hopefully help,” Mike pointed out practically. “But... here, maybe this will improve things a bit - just breathe steadily for me...” He shifted carefully so he could reach April’s back and neck without jostling her too much, then began to gently massage and manipulate the pressure points there, trying to ease some of the tension out of April’s frame without aggravating her bruises. “Let me know how this feels, all right?” 

Even as he worked, Mike continued to listen warily for any stray sounds, and tried to plan their next move. Sooner or later they’d have to get going - they were still dangerously close to the Shredder’s territory, and a long way from safety. Neither of them were in any real shape to fight or to run, so if they encountered any Foot, they’d be in serious trouble.

The more he thought about it, the more Mike had to admit that he likely wouldn’t be able to get April home safely by himself - not without much more danger than he was willing to risk. 

Sooner or later, he’d have to call someone for help.

Shadow laughed aloud at Mike’s deliberate misinterpretation of their cohort’s colourful decoration. Seeing him in high, comedic spirits was a boon for the soul, but she was glad he didn’t complain about eating the stew; he’d been in that stasis tube a long time, and needed more than sugar if he was going to get back on his feet.

“But I stole them both for you!” she mock-pouted, fishing out the spoon from where it had skittered underneath the edge of one of the plates. Her solemn expression was threatened by an encroaching grin as she handed it over to Mike and helped him with the tray, ejecting a dramatic sigh from her lungs. “I suppose I can help you in fudgey brownie duties, if you insist. In war, sacrifices must be made.”

She wouldn’t be mean and chow down on her treat before Mikey was ready for his, though - or before she’d earned it in the information trade. His brothers had undoubtedly filled him in on the high level details, but they were no substitute for information about the people. Leo and Raph weren’t close to the resistance, so Shadow launched into an overview of that final operation from the perspective of those on the ground outside. Perhaps only a handful of her family had been directly involved in killing the Shredder, but only because a carefully networked effort of the entire resistance had kept the worst of his forces divided and at bay outside his citadel.

“-and the numbers were insane out there, every squad had its work cut out for them. Enforcers, Karai-bots, the works. We all did such a great job, though.” Shadow faintly glowed with pride. “Stuck to the plan completely - draw out and distract, not attack and destroy, but it was tough going. We couldn’t retreat so easily, not if this was our big chance. It’s lucky you guys were able to finish your part so quickly, or we would have been overwhelmed before long.” 

She paused briefly, thinking about the squads and squad members who hadn’t made it. People who needed honouring but whom she wouldn’t name, not right now. Mike needed good news, not more of the bad. “Once the Shredder went down, you could pretty much see the news travelling around the enemy. Some seemed to get a second wind, but others started to break away from the fight. Of course, not long after, the sky was full of Utrom! Suddenly we had a whole lot of unexpected backup and the enemy leader was dead. I’d have run like hell, too, if I were them!”

Shadow grinned, seesawing a hand. “Not gonna lie, though, when they first showed up? We didn’t know if they were friend or foe. I remember me and Josie looked at each other like ‘Oh God, what now?’. Most of us haven’t had the greatest experience with alien invaders, you know? But it became obvious enough once they started fighting at our side.”

Mike snickered as Shadow’s laughter turned to a plaintive pout. “Key word there being stole,” he pointed out sagely. “We need to dispose of the evidence swiftly before we’re caught red-handed, and that’ll go much faster with both of us working on it.” He winked as he accepted the spoon and settled the tray comfortably across his lap with Shadow’s help. “Your wartime sacrifice is greatly appreciated.” 

His first few spoonfuls of the chicken stew were slow and careful as he tested the steadiness of his hand and his general coordination, as well as his stomach’s receptiveness to food. There were no issues though, fortunately, and though he still ate slowly to properly savour the stew, Mike was able to turn the majority of his attention back to Shadow’s words as she described the final operation from her viewpoint. 

“Lucky indeed,” he murmured in quiet agreement. He knew better than to assume that they’d made it through without any losses - there were almost always losses - but he didn’t want to think about that right now, and he was grateful that Shadow didn’t bring it up. He’d find out later, and pay his respects as he always did, but that was a future him problem. For now he was content to eat his stew and enjoy the way his niece practically glowed with pride at her team’s performance.

April wordlessly took Mike’s lead - and his help - with the tape. Between them they tore off longish strips and cross-hatched the cheap field supply over the dressing, binding it to anything that would stick (turtle shell was not a great sticking surface for surgical tape, she already knew from long experience). It certainly wasn’t her prettiest handiwork, but she had long since stopped concerning herself with aesthetics. 

And there was no longer blood pumping out of the turtle’s side. That was really all that mattered.

When the job was done, she tossed what was left of the tape in the general direction of her bag. Then, and only then, did she finally reach for the water bottle. She rolled perhaps a third of what was left of the contents inside her dry mouth, and savoured the long swallow. If only there were painkillers to go down with it.

“Rest is yours,” she mumbled softly, shifting herself with effort into a boneless sitting position next to her companion. “Don’t argue, Mike. Might be roughed up, but I haven’t lost any blood.”

Once the dressing was taped into place as securely as they could manage, Mike rolled his shoulders and neck to ease some of the tension, then shifted around to lean back against the wall. He stretched his legs out before him and absently flexed his toes, trying to get his circulation going as April drank and settled at his right side. 

Her words made him frown slightly, and for a moment his expression was almost mutinous - but then he sighed, unable to reasonably argue with her logic. “All right, fine,” he conceded with a faint, lopsided smile. “Can’t really argue that you’ve sweated as much as I’ve bled, I guess.” He accepted the bottle and took a slow sip, then set it aside again, saving the remaining water for later. If ‘later’ also involved getting April to have another mouthful, well... that was a Future Them problem. 

Shadow was reluctant to leave him, even with his reassurances that she wouldn’t be so easily displaced, but this was a mission of dire importance. Needs must!

When she returned some fifteen minutes later, she was carrying a tray with a couple of covered dishes on it. Shadow’s eyes swept the room quickly to ensure Mike had made good on his promise, and then she booted the door deftly closed behind her, wearing a victorious grin as she marched back to her bedside seat with her culinary treasure. She set it down carefully on the edge of the mattress.

“So here’s the deal. I may have acquired for you not one, but two of Cecil’s recently-famous sweet potato brownies.” Shadow lifted the lid off one plate, unveiling a pair of sizeable slabs of glistening chocolatey fudge goodness beneath it. One had the letter ‘S’ traced on it in a thick trail of syrup, and the other an ‘F’. “The man can bake. I think it counts as celebratory since he’s been writing ‘RIFP SHREDDER’ on every batch of twelve. I’m sure you can imagine what the ‘F’ stands for.”

Shadow gave a mischievous chuckle, but she dampened her enthusiasm as she unveiled the second delicacy - a small bowl of chicken stew, still steaming from the collective kitchen pot.   

“Buuut it would make me feel a whole lot better if you also ate this. Gotta build your strength back up, and all, and two bricks of pure sugar probably won’t cut it, you know?”

Once Shadow had slipped out, Mike let himself sink back into the pillows, eyes sliding closed as he focused on conserving his energy without falling asleep. Fortunately, whatever his brothers were up to, it was keeping them well occupied - they remained absent for now, so he didn’t have to kick them out. 

As soon as he heard Shadow return, he blinked his eyes open again and returned her victorious grin with a look of anticipation. Said anticipation swiftly morphed into delight as Shadow unveiled the chocolate fudge, and Mike took a deep breath, savouring the sweet scent. Her comment about what the ‘F’ stood for made him snort a short laugh though before he looked back up at her. “I bet it stands for ‘Fudge’, right?” he replied, all exaggerated innocence. “Rest in fudgey pieces! Mmmm, fudge.” 

Poor Becky and her cohorts in unrequited affection, indeed. It was almost a shame; Mike’s mind was made up on these propositions, and she respected that, but April still couldn’t help imagining how adorable it would be for him to be besotted with a cute partner. He had so much love to give, after all … but perhaps that was the blocker. Far too much love for him to pick just one person to dote on. 

Beckett would definitely be a bigger blocker, that was for sure. April grinned weakly as that joke landed perfectly with Mike - she valued her life and livelihood too much to ever ask the taciturn commando for real. 

As they finished up the last of his stitches, Mike suggested a break. He sounded genuine enough, but the tilt of April’s eyebrows was all suspicion; Mike never stopped until he dropped, which meant he was either really hurting, or he had an ulterior motive. Either way, it wouldn’t change the outcome.

“Well, good,” she agreed quietly. “Because once you’re patched up, I need one, too. Not stopping until then, for anything.”

April would go for the water after they were done. It was less a matter of being stubborn, and more the knowledge that the next time she stopped would be the last until she had rested a while. The urgency and momentum of the operation was all that was keeping her going. The shock of her fall had long since worn-off, and her arm was a gravity well of agony that kept sucking at her concentration.

So she pressed on with helping him tie off the last suture, which was painstaking enough between the two of them, and then scrambled around for the supplies to dress the awkwardly-positioned wound. Keeping the dressing in place was the real problem. She didn’t have enough bandaging to wrap Mike’s entire waist, but she did have one small roll of surgical tape that might do the job if she wound it all the way around him. The only other alternative was to stick it liberally to his plastron and carapace and hope the whole thing held.

“Can you sit up for me?” April gestured tiredly. “Think we’re almost done.”

Mike let out a silent breath of relief as April agreed to a break - her suspicious look was simply met with an innocent expression - then focused his attention back on working with her to finish and tie off the last suture. Once that was done, he let his arm flop back against the ground, absently flexing his hand to work the cramps out of his fingers and waiting for the pain in his side to die down a little. 

He still kept a concerned eye on April though, watching her rummage around to drag out a few more of their meagre supplies. The small roll of surgical tape was regarded dubiously for a moment before April made her request. “Can do,” Mike replied with a lazy thumbs-up. He braced himself with his arm, then slowly eased himself up into a sitting position, being careful not to strain his side too much.

raphaelredbrother​:

Raph couldn’t quite smile, but he couldn’t help softening at April’s teasing. “I guess,” he said, slightly grudging out of habit, but also doubting that he’d actually be able to rest well in Mike’s room. He looked up when she started asking him a question, but stilled at the sound of a knock.

His heart gave a leap when he saw Shadow but he didn’t move, watching her talk to April. He wished he could ask her to stay but he didn’t have the right to…but then she hesitated, looking back at him, and he couldn’t ignore the tiny spark of hope. “He’s - yeah, Klunk’s fine, but…” He swallowed. “I don’t mind if you - I mean, you can stay if you want to.”

---

Shadow instantly beamed, but she still cast a cautious look at her mother before letting herself get too excited. 

“If Uncle Raph’s okay with it,” April nodded, much to her daughter’s delight; at this point, fighting Shadow’s interest in her uncle would only do more harm than good. If Raph opted not to stay for long, at least the girl would have been able to spend some time with him before he disappeared again … even if it meant dealing with the emotional fallout afterwards. “I’ll leave you in charge of taking care of him for me, okay?”

Shadow accepted this onerous duty with a giddy smile and another salute. As she started to make her way over to the bed, April turned back to Raph one last time.

“If you need anything at all, Raph, just ask. Shadow will know where to find it on the base,” she reassured him, then grinned and ruffled the girl’s hair when she darted past. “Whether she’s supposed to know or not.”

“I’m resourceful,” Shadow explained, patting her hair back down with great dignity. She hopped up on the bed, and her small hands made a beeline for the lump of fur between her and Raph. “Aww. Klunky’s so happy! Listen to him purr. Hey, stinky-kitty, did you miss me? Does Uncle Raphie give good pets?”

April gave Raph a little farewell wave, and left him in the indelicate but affectionate hands of her daughter.

After the short walk back to her own quarters, she slipped quietly inside her room, on the off-chance Mike had nodded off in the meantime.

“Hey, you,” she whispered to the familiar shape taking up all the room on the sofa. “Still awake?”

Despite his exhaustion, Mike hadn’t yet succumbed to sleep. He cracked his eyes open at the sound of April’s voice and offered her a slanted smile. “Hey yourself. Still awake, unfortunately,” he replied wryly. “No rest for the wicked.” 

He gingerly shifted sideways a little, freeing some space on the couch at his right side and stretching his arm out along the back of the couch in a silent invitation for April to sit with him. “Been thinking though - Raph mentioned he and his squad were trying to intercept a weapons shipment - likely the same one I was out there to scout out. His intel source didn’t let him know that said shipment was a bunch of already-functional Karai-bots though. So now I’m wondering if that omission was simply an innocent lack of available info... or malicious intent.” He let out a faint sigh, his brow furrowing. “Was thinking we should get Connie to get in touch with Tyler ASAP, see what they can find out about their intel source between them. Don’t want something like this happening again. If I hadn’t been in the area at the time as well...” 

Leo chuckled at Mike’s comments, struck by the similarity between the older turtle and his own brother. “Don’t worry, I probably won’t shove you into raw sewage,” he said lightly. “Just make sure your personal gravity doesn’t pull us in.”

He smiled sheepishly when Mike asked about the name Marius. “It’s from Les Miserables. Jean Valjean rescues Marius by carrying his unconscious body through the sewer. But, uh - well, you seem like you’re planning to remain conscious. And, like you said, I’m no Leatherhead.”

He made sure Mike seemed steady on his feet before slipping silently ahead a handful of paces, peering through the crumbling wall to the darkening street. “Things look clear for now,” he said quietly. “We’ve got a little ways to go until we reach the nearest manhole. It’s not far, but we’ll need to be quick. We’re on the edge of Purple Dragon territory. Stay close, okay? I’m counting on you to tell me if you need help.”

MIke raised a brow at Leo. “Probably?” He paused for a moment, then let out a huff of amusement. “Fair enough. And I make no promises about my personal gravity, but I’ll do my best.” 

Leo’s response drew a hum of recollection from Mike. “Ah, right! Been a long time since I last experienced Les Mis. And you’re absolutely right - I have no intention of winding up unconscious any time soon, so no worries there.” He flashed Leo a wink before following after him, also pausing at the wall.

“Will do,” he murmured in response to Leo’s instructions, taking a moment to scan the surroundings again before following silently in Leo’s wake. This part of town was sparsely populated, run-down and derelict - which was likely to blame for the wall collapsing in the first place - so there was nobody visible nearby to spot the turtles as they ghosted from shadow to lengthening shadow.

They were only a couple of blocks away from the manhole when the skin on the back of Mike’s neck began to crawl - he hesitated, looking around warily, but he couldn’t spot anything out of place in the growing darkness--

“Get ‘em!” 

rebelmatriarch​:

April covered her eyes and mock-groaned at Raph’s comparison to Tyler. “Please, god, don’t tell her that,” she chuckled. “She’s already decided Ty is her rival, with or without his participation. If she gets taller than him, she’s going to be incredibly obnoxious about it, mark my words.”

When Klunk stirred she was tempted, as always, to give the cat a few scritches of her own. But it seemed inappropriate to intrude on this little reunion, so she kept her hands to herself for now, clasped warmly in her lap as she indulged instead in the novelty of watching Raphael … well, exist in her line of sight, but especially being soft and gentle with the old feline.

“Seems like Klunk’s just as happy to see you as the rest of us,” April smiled.

—

Uncle Mikey might only have one arm, but being squished between it and his solid plastron was always the safest feeling in the whole world. Shadow laughed as he reminisced about Raph’s kitten-plagued workouts, still young enough for the sound to be an infectious, childish giggle. Of course, poor Klunk was a little too grey and tired for jumping up and down on things relentlessly now, including Uncle Raph - more often than not the lazy cat would simply wait for her to pick him up and move him to the level he wanted to go with a whole lot of meowing in between - but she didn’t like to think about that too much.

“I think Uncle Raphie can handle him,” Shadow grinned, and carefully wriggled her way out of Mikey’s affectionate grasp. It would have been very easy to stay there all day, but she had been given a job to do. Certainly it was that, and not an anxious desire to make sure Raph was still on the base or anything. 

She gave Mikey a kiss on the cheek before she moved to leave him, though, and a warning accompanied by a stern finger-wag. “Make sure you rest, okay? I’ll know if you move!”

—

Raph couldn’t help an involuntary snort of laughter a the description of Shadow’s one-sided rivalry. “Well if it’ll take some of the wind out of her sails, you can let her know Ty ain’t really all that tall to begin with.” 

Klunk licked his hand and leaned into his touch. Raph huffed a little and scritched under his chin before moving to Klunk’s favorite spot in front of his ears. But when April mentioned being happy to see him, the motion of his hand slowed and he felt the faint smile fade from his face. He hadn’t even realized he’d been smiling. His expression shifted to its habitual glower. “Don’t think you can speak for Mike, there,” he said brusquely. “’Happy’ ain’t how I’d describe it.” Klunk let out an indignant mrowp and butted his head insistently against the hand that had fallen still. “Damn it, you dumb cat, what the shell do you want?” he growled. But he resumed his gentle scritching even as he glared at the floor.

Shadow’s childish giggles coaxed a chuckle of his own out of Mike, as they usually did. He let her wriggle free, but not without ruffling her hair affectionately on her way out. “Perhaps, perhaps,” Mike drawled, “but you should check anyway. Just in case.” 

He grinned at the kiss on the cheek and booped her nose in response, then nodded solemnly in response to her finger-wagging. “Yes sir, ma’am, sir! I promise I’ll rest - I won’t move an inch!” His smile remained in place as he watched Shadow slip out of the room, but once the door clicked shut behind her, the smile faded. Mike breathed out a heavy sigh and let himself sink deeper into the worn couch, his eyes sliding closed. The painkillers had taken the edge off, but his head still throbbed dully, and he wearily rubbed his hand over his face before letting his arm drop back to settle in his lap.

Leo grinned at the way Mike’s expression brightened. “I’ll even make sure you get a rubber ducky.” 

His grin turned into a laugh as he steadied Mike on his feet. “I would think a pretty princess like you would prefer being swept off his feet and carried into the sunset. Or, at least, into the sewer. I know you’re used to it but I was most concerned about walking through the sewer with open wounds, even though it wouldn’t be the first time.” 

He gripped Mike’s belt to provide support as he helped him over a fallen beam. “You’re not kidding about the weight,” he said with a wink, “but don’t worry, I think it’s all in the shell.” 

Leo wasn’t surprised that Mike wanted him to call ahead - it was why he’d made the offer to begin with - but he couldn’t help the regretful ache that came with the answer. “You know it’s impossible for us not to be worried,” he said quietly, “and I hope you know we’d never think you were an inconvenience. But I’ll make the call. Hang on, we’re out of the worst area now. Just sit tight for a few minutes and then we’ll be on our way.”

He helped Mike sit on a pile of bricks that looked sturdy, then stepped a short distance away and pulled out his shell cell. His thumb automatically hovered over the speed dial for Raph, but after considering a moment he shifted and pushed a different button. The phone only made it through one and a half rings before Don picked up. Leo smiled to himself. He knew Don was likely busy with a project, but he never failed to answer. “Hey, Leo, what’s up?”

“I ran into a bit of an unusual situation,” Leo said, speaking quietly. “Mike’s back. Everything’s okay, but we had a bit of trouble and he got banged up a bit. I need to get him back to the lair to get him patched up.”

“Okay.” There was a brief pause while Don let that sink in, then Leo heard shuffling and a clang, and he could picture him pushing himself back from his work station. “Okay, sure. What can we do? Do you need us to come get you?”

Having his brothers show up in the Battle Shell would save a lot of time and spare Mike an inconvenient and potentially difficult walk, but Leo knew he’d never accept, and he wasn’t hurt badly enough for Leo to insist. “No, we should be able to get home without issue. But listen, the reason I called is…well, Mike would prefer not to see anyone. I thought you should gather everyone and head out to one of our satellite locations for a bit.”

There was another pause before Don very quietly said, “Oh.”

“He hasn’t met you yet, Donny,” Leo said gently, keeping his voice low so it wouldn’t carry. “And even if he had - from what you’ve told me, I think it’d be too painful for him to see everyone. But I thought you should be the one I call about this.”

“Yes. I know. I understand.” Don was quiet for a moment longer before he took a deep breath and erased the sorrow and regret from his voice. “All right. I’ll get everyone together and we’ll be out of here in 10 - 15 minutes. Good enough?”

“That’ll be fine. Thanks. I’ll let you know when we’re gone.” Leo put his phone back on his belt, straightened his shoulders and turned back to Mike, giving him a lopsided smile. “Okay, Marius. Let’s get you into the sewers so we can go home.”

“A rubber ducky? Oh man I haven’t had a rubber ducky in years!” Mike exclaimed gleefully. “Talk about your silver lining!”

He grinned at Leo’s laughter and offered him a cheeky wink. “Well, if you were the size of oh, say, Leatherhead... then I would absolutely insist on being carried off into the sewer sunset!” He looked over himself briefly again, then smiled reassuringly. “And I don’t think I’ve got anything open enough to worry about now that the gash is covered up, so unless you actively shove me into raw sewage I should be fine.”

He snorted as Leo helped him over the beam - he didn’t really need the help, but he could tell it made Leo feel better to provide it, so he accepted the assistance without comment. “A good chunk of said weight is shell, yes, but the rest is all grade-A, high-density turtle beef, thank you very much! It contributes to the magnetism, y’know.” He paused, then added thoughtfully, “Or possibly gravitational pull.” 

Leo’s quiet words made something twist deep in Mike’s chest, but he simply nodded with an understanding little quirk of his mouth. “I know,” he murmured as he sat down on the pile of bricks that Leo had steered him to. As Leo stepped away to make the call, Mike watched him for a moment, then turned his attention to scanning their surroundings for potential threats. Leo’s conversation was little more than a quiet background murmur, and Mike didn’t bother trying to eavesdrop on it. They’d been lucky so far - nobody else seemed to be around this area, but it wasn’t entirely dark yet and Mike wasn’t going to let his guard down. The last thing they needed right now was to get spotted and wind up in a fight. 

If she was glad to have all those gross feelings off her chest, Shadow brightened even more the instant Mike mentioned food. It made him sound the most like himself since before the almost-doomed mission, and she flashed him a delighted grin when she heard it.

“Well, unless you’re hungry for water,” she smirked with a shake of the utilitarian bottle that had been left by his bedside, “I’m afraid I’m gonna have to go hunting to fulfil your challenging dietary requirements. Don’t worry, though, Uncle Mike - if anyone can find you the good stuff, it’s me.”

She gave him a gentle pat on the plastron - specifically the belly, since she was pretty sure his heart and soul rested there and not the chest - and twirled away for the room’s tiny door. Shadow paused before she could swing through it, however, turning back to her uncle.

“Oh! But it was pretty difficult getting solo visiting rights! You’re way too popular lately,” she warned with a good-natured finger wag. “So if those two crusty old brothers of yours come back before I do, do me a favour and tell them to wait their turn.”

“I have every faith in your ability to find me the best stuff,” Mike agreed with a grin, relieved to see Shadow’s mood lift so much. He had, after all, been the one to teach her how, and she’d been a diligent student. His grin softened at the affectionate pat against his plastron, then he watched with amusement as Shadow spun away before pausing at the door.

Leo chuckled. “You definitely could do with a hose-down. But fortunately we won’t need to use a hose when we get back.”

He gave a small satisfied nod at Mike’s confirmation that the bandage had helped. “You’re welcome. And yes, I think we should head underground. I’d apologize for the less-than-tidy travel route, but, well…” He gestured vaguely at the layer of dust and grime covering Mike’s skin and shell. “Come on, let me help you up.” He crouched next to Mike and braced himself to take the older turtle’s weight. “And, listen,” he went on, speaking carefully, “I know last time we met you preferred to…keep your distance a bit. If it will help, I can call ahead and ask the others to head out for a while.”

“No hose?” Mike brightened, and it was only half in jest. “Does that mean I can get an actual hot shower? Oh goodie!” 

He then snickered and grinned at Leo. “And since when have I ever been concerned about less-than-tidy? We live in the sewer!” As Leo offered his support, Mike blinked, then gave him a sly grin as he leaned lightly against Leo’s shoulder, careful not to rest too much weight against him. “Careful there, Leo. I may just end up insisting on you sweeping me off my feet and carrying me home - and I’m not as petite as I used to be! With age comes wisdom - and weight, apparently.” 

Leo hmm-ed at Mike’s comment about architecture. “That is rather inconvenient. I guess you’ll have to work on toning down your sparkle in certain situations.”

A little furrow appeared between his eyes at Mike’s reaction. “Well, nothing’s displaced or dislocated,” he said slowly, “but I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve got a cracked ulna. And yes, this is going to need stitches. I’ll have to get you back home to take care of this properly, but we can patch it up for now.” He pulled a compact roll of bandage material from a pouch on his belt and wrapped several layers around Mike’s forearm, wrist to elbow, before tying it off neatly and tucking the ends away. “There. It’s not much, but maybe it’ll help stabilize your arm a little and cut down on the pain.”

“Very inconvenient,” Mike deadpanned, then grinned. “And I’m not sure if it’s even possible to tone down my sparkle - I’m a shining star of terrapin perfection!” He looked down at the dust and dirt coating himself, paused for a beat, then added wryly, “although I will admit I’m not so shining at the moment. Gonna need a hose-down, at least.”

He let out a sigh at Leo’s diagnosis, confirming what he’d already suspected. “I really hope it’s not cracked,” he grumbled even as he automatically held his arm out for Leo to bandage it. “Still, no dislocation or anything is good - I’ll take what I can get.” He deliberately avoided Leo’s mention of home, not wanting to think about the possibility of encountering any of the rest of the family that would likely be there. Instead he focused on the bandage being wrapped around his forearm, keeping the limb as steady as he could while Leo worked. 

“I think the point of magnetism is you can’t control your raw appeal,” Leo said mildly, carefully cupping his left hand beneath Mike’s forearm. “But you are the pretty one.” He gently manipulated Mike’s fingers and wrist before moving his touch slowly up the injured limb. A gash along the outside of the forearm was sluggishly oozing blood, and he could already see angry bruises forming beneath a broad scrape on the outside of Mike’s upper arm. He flexed and extended the elbow before moving up to his shoulder. “Tell me where you feel pain.”

Mike huffed out a short laugh, grinning. “Well, at least you acknowledge my magnetism and raw appeal. And prettiness.” His grin quirked wryly. “I still would prefer if they didn’t work on inanimate architecture though.” 

twinbladeturtle​:

Leo had been expecting Mike to argue with him, so when the older turtle agreed without putting up a fuss, he wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or worried. He decided to settle on relieved as he picked his way over the broken cinderblock to where Mike sat. “I’m glad it’s not broken, but you’d better let me take a look at it.”

He gave Mike a quick once-over as he approached, trying to smile a little. “You’re blaming Turtle Luck? Here I thought you’d claim it was your irresistible magnetism.” He stopped at Mike’s right side. With his own Mikey, he wouldn’t need to ask, but he thought Mike would appreciate it. “Will you let me check your arm?”

Mike let out a snort at Leo’s ‘irresistible magnetism’ comment and gave him a wry little grin. “Man, I don’t know if I want to entertain the idea of being irresistibly attractive to walls,” he deadpanned with a roll of his eyes. “On the plus side, at least nothing hit my beautiful face! For once.” 

Mike blinked and regarded Leo searchingly from where he was perched on a chunk of debris, then gave the younger turtle a slanted smile. "That's fair," he conceded wryly. "Can't really argue with that." He gingerly attempted to move his badly bruised, battered and scraped arm, then winced and aborted the movement with a faint hiss. "It's not broken, and I don't think it's fractured, but definitely out of commission for at least a few days. Damn. That's inconvenient."

“Oh, she counts,” April smiled thinly, going through the stiff, mechanical motions of flicking the safety back on her handgun and returning it to her waistband. “Just because she never plucked up the courage to ask me directly, doesn’t mean I couldn’t tell she wanted to.”

She fished around for the flashlight, fingernails scraping against concrete before she managed to get hold of it and switch it on. After such a near miss, leaving it pointing upright again made her nervous, but there was no way to hold it and guide Mike’s hand through the remaining few stitches at the same time. She was flagging, she knew; the urge to stop and rest and close her eyes for a while clamped down on her like a vicious dog’s jaws, dragging her towards the inevitable, but once the suturing was done she still needed to dress the wound …

At his bait comment, she gave a breathy laugh, though it was starting to feel like someone else was doing the talking for her. “I guess the enemy finds you as irresistible as some of the rebels do, huh. Maybe I need an aide exclusively to deal with propositions. Hmm. I’ll reassign Beckett as soon as we get home.”

“Alas, poor Becky and her lack of courage,” Mike intoned solemnly. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” He let out a wry huff of amusement. “Not that she would’ve gained anything anyway, so maybe it was just as well.” 

He blinked slightly as the flashlight clicked back on, then waited for April’s guiding hand to settle back along his own. He could tell how badly she was flagging just from the way her hand trembled against his, how carefully she was moving, how ragged her breathing was getting. But he also knew that she wouldn’t be convinced stop to rest until she was satisfied that his injury had been tended as well as they could manage out here. She could be just as stubborn as he was. Once that was done, though... 

April’s breathy laugh made him grin lopsidedly. “Oh man, if you seriously suggest that to Beckett, I won’t have to worry about her killing me - she’s gonna be too busy chewing you out,” he teased. “Not to mention nobody would ever be game enough to approach her anyway, and I’d hate to lose my occasional little doses of ego boosting.”

April’s chest threatened to buck with a burst of ill-timed laughter, and she bit her lip hard to keep it trapped inside. Aside from the fact that it would give away their position, it was mean and she felt bad, given how angrily Mike tensed up beneath her, but it was just so … absurd. 

Her planet was being ruled by an alien dictator and somehow she was the leader of the human resistance in NYC and her family was largely a collection of eclectic mutants she ran into by chance one day and she and Mike were wounded and on the cusp of a potentially fatal firefight except the enemy was making fat jokes and her entire life was so incredibly absurd, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry about it. And right now, she could afford to do neither.

So she held her breath until the voices receded and her heart rate began to drop, and the distant lights faded, plunging them back into the gloom. Only then did she sag against Mikey, smiling tiredly at his dark grumblings.

“Of course it is,” she indulged him, fondly patting his shell. “Everybody who matters knows it. Now, c’mon -  let’s finish up. Gotta make sure that perfect ass can actually walk out of here, right?”

As April sagged against him, Mike let himself finally start to relax a little, though he still kept his arm around her waist for the moment. “At least you acknowledge the perfection of my ass,” he murmured with increasing amusement as the absurdity of the situation gradually sunk in and his indignation began to fade. “Along with at least... shell, were we up to eleven or twelve propositions now? I’ve lost track. Wait, would Becky count? I’m not sure if Becky would count.”