TMNT Shell Shots

That's What Brothers Are For

*Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles franchise.

*Incredible fan art created by my amazingly talented friend, Kastanie31. I love it!

*'That's What Brothers Are For' Summary: Leonardo may have just come out of a coma, but he's not the only turtle still struggling to heal.

*Author's Notes: At long last, I'm back with a new 'Shell Shot' and this one takes place about a week after the episode 'Within the Woods.' I had numerous requests for a story along this line. Apparently, I'm not the only TMNT fan who wanted more closure after the episode 'The Invasion.' I hope you all like what I came up with.

Thanks so much for reading, everyone. I sure do appreciate it.

CJ

-----------------------

That's What Brothers Are For

For the third day in a row, the screechy sound of a rooster crowing is trying to pull me out of my slumber way, way too early for my liking. I let out a groan and crack my eyelids open just a sliver, only to be blinded by the sunlight pouring in through the window. Something I never had to worry about back in the sewers.

It makes me realize just how much I miss the lair. . .

Yanking my covers up over my head, I attempt to go back to sleep. Not that I really need more sleep. After being in a coma for three months, I should be plenty rested. Yet, I feel as though I'm a walking zombie. Well, maybe a crippled zombie would be more accurate. I still can't actually get around without the aid of a crutch.

My eyes drift towards the wooden stick leaned up against the footboard of my bed. Just seeing that dumb crutch makes my chest tighten with dread. I can't help but wonder if my injuries are ever going to fully heal. What good is a ninja who can't –

I stop myself mid-thought before I get too caught up in self-pity, again, reminding myself that I only regained consciousness a little over a week ago.

I can just hear Master Splinter's voice telling me, 'You must be patient, my son.'

The memory of my father causes my breathing to become ragged, like my throat is suddenly closing up on me.

In a matter of a few hours, my brothers and I lost nearly everything. Our home, our city, our father...

Granted, I don't remember a whole lot about what happened. I had been unconscious for the lion's share of it. All because I had been foolish enough to walk straight into a trap and get my shell whacked like a piñata.

A competent leader would've seen that coming...

Okay! Could you possibly be any more negative?

Realizing a change of scenery would do me some good, I grab hold of my crutch and clumsily make my way downstairs. Once on the first floor of the farmhouse, I hobble inside the kitchen, where my senses are instantly greeted by the familiar smell of bacon and eggs wafting in the air. Too bad I'm not the least big hungry. Nauseous, mostly.

"Morningmikey." What should've been two distinct words come out as one, like it's too much effort to pause between the 'g' and the 'm.' My voice doesn't sound right anymore. Not just this morning, but all the time. The irreparable damage done to my vocal cords courtesy of Shredder and his goons left me sounding like a total stranger. Almost as if someone's doing a voice-over whenever I talk. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it.

That's not the only thing I can't seem to wrap my head around...

Feeling somehow heavier than just seconds ago, I settle my weight onto a dining room chair with all the grace of a three-legged hippopotamus. I then turn to see Mikey's bright, blue eyes beaming at me. The smile on his face is far too cheerful considering how early it still is.