Mikey jerked awake with a stifled gasp, his body twitching beneath the light blanket covering his bed. He stared blankly up at the darkened ceiling for a few moments before his brain caught up and registered where he was - the spare room on the second floor of the Jones farmhouse. He relaxed slowly, his body recovering from the reflexive knee-jerk reaction of the dream-fall, then sighed softly and brought his hands up to rub at his face.
Only one hand actually made contact though, and Mikey let out a quiet, muffled curse, his palm still over his face. He'd forgotten again that his left hand and arm from the elbow down no longer existed, even though he often felt like it was still there. Phantom limb, April had called it, and the sensation irritated Mikey more than he'd ever actually let on.Â
Some days, it did more than irritate, but Mikey never let on about that, either. His family already had more than enough to worry about.
He lay there for a while, trying to drift off again, but he was wide awake now, and sleep wouldn't come. The  farmhouse was quiet, save for the occasional creak of old, settling timber; there was no sound of Raphael pacing sleeplessly in the attic above him like there'd been so many nights before, no sound of Leonardo drifting through the house to check up on everyone and make sure they were okay. It seemed that for once, everyone else was asleep.Â
Mikey finally succumbed to his own restlessness and hauled himself out of bed, taking a moment to stretch before glancing around thoughtfully. His wounds had healed, and Leo and Splinter had finally let him start some light training, though they were careful to keep Mikey from pushing himself too hard. But Mikey's strength and energy were returning day by day, and the light, limited training wasn't enough.Â
His mind made up, Mikey headed over to the window and carefully slipped through it onto the roof of the porch, then from there down to the ground. He was still trying to get used to his new centre of balance, and the lack of one hand, but this was a route he'd taken before, and there was no real difficulty to it. Once on the ground, the grass soft beneath his feet, Mikey paused to look back up at the house and make sure nobody had heard his exit.
The farmhouse remained dark and silent, and with a sigh of relief, Mikey ghosted across the yard and slipped into the barn. He closed the door behind him before turning on the lamp, filling the space with a soft golden glow and illuminating the makeshift exercise equipment the brothers had pieced together in the weeks they'd been at the farmhouse.
He considered them briefly, then shook his head and moved to the cleared area in the middle of the barn and settled into the starting position for one of the modified kata that Splinter had been working with him on. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, focusing himself before he began the pattern of movements that was meant to help him re-train his muscles and adapt to the lack of a limb. It was frustrating, so frustrating, having to unlearn moves that had become instinctive over the years, having to fight against what his body wanted to do because he no longer had that arm to do the moves with.
He repeated the kata, over and over; slower at first, then gradually picking up speed. But as much as he tried, the moves didn't flow like they'd used to; he kept losing his balance, kept trying to catch himself with a hand that was no longer there. Every time he hit the dirt though, Mikey just got back to his feet, let out a long, slow breath to settle himself, and started the kata again.Â
