Keeping a Promise
[[ Note: This is set in the middle of the super-amazing post-SAINW fic Waking Up by @dawntreaderflynne <3 in which the turtles survive . . . by the skin of their teeth. ]]
Shadow wasnât there when Michelangelo finally woke up from his uncertain coma. Sheâd been kicking ass and taking names in an old apartment building some leftover Foot had chosen as their desperate last stand - and if her efforts had been a little more single-mindedly vindictive since the final assault at Shredderâs HQ, her small squad of commandos passed no comment.
It was in the aftermath that she got the radio call. The joy and relief in her motherâs voice had been infectious; Shadow bolted back to base and rushed into Mikeâs small infirmary room, sweaty and with her blue eyes blazing eagerly out of a face covered in dirt - but she was too late. Mike was flat out again, his injuries wearing him out within minutes. And by that point, two old turtles had become permanent fixtures by his bedside.
Shadow stayed put for the next few days. She dropped in to check on Mike multiple times a day . . . though she never had the room to herself. She had nothing but smiles for her wayward uncles, and spending time with Leo and Raph together or at all after so long and so close a call buoyed her soul, but . . .
But Mike still looked so ill. Tired and worn and grey, and it was so hard to keep the cheer on her face when she looked at him that she never overstayed her welcome. Shadow wore the cheer like armour, and she wasnât yet comfortable taking it off in front of Leo and Raph.
When Mike woke again, she was in the shower, scrubbing the stress out of her dark hair. It was still dripping when she lingered in the corridor outside, listening to the hushed sounds of the three brothers talking. She knew they had a lot to sort out.
She left them to it.
It wasnât until the next day, with Mike resting again in deep slumber, that she was able to coax Leo and Raph away to stretch their legs and grab a proper bite to eat. The door clicked closed behind her, and the armour fell off. Shadow studied her sleeping uncle with a tired, sad face.
There were two empty chairs beside the bed, separated but angled toward each other in an awkward attempt at dialogue. Shadow sighed, but the action was accompanied by a fond half-smile; it was still the closest sheâd seen Uncle Raph and Uncle Leo together in years. She lifted one, turning it quietly closer to the bed, where she sank bonelessly into the seat and dropped her head and arms onto the edge of the mattress. Mikeâs hand rested at his side, and without an ounce of hesitation Shadow covered it softly with her own.
There hadnât been a lot of time to think in the past few weeks, and Shadow was glad of it. It had always been easier to throw herself into combat than it had been to sit around listening to the disconsolate beeps of medical equipment in an infirmary. Picking away at the remaining pockets of Foot had been more productive than hovering around Utrom stasis tubes, watching family members who had just taken the barest steps toward reconciliation cling to life by a thread.
Life was cruel. Shadow had learned that early on. But theyâd beaten it, hadnât they? They were still breathing, and before long, the sound of Mikeyâs began to lull her into a doze.
