Colors of the Dead

Tremble

Mikey's eyes blinked tiredly above his cup. He sat at the table, leaning his arms against the surface, hand wrapped around the glass he had yet to drink from. He moved it in small circles on the table, making a quiet grinding sound against the ceramic. Sometimes his eyes would close long enough that Raph would wonder if he dozed off before they finally opened again, slow and heavy.

Raph understood the exhaustion, as he was sure Mikey hadn't gotten much more sleep than he had last night. Raph smiled weakly in an attempt to fight through his fatigue; this way of moving through life more asleep than awake had become commonplace for both of them. What little sleep they did get was rarely ever peaceful. It was easier to just stare at the ceiling and try to fight off the memories that were inevitable if they were to fall asleep.

Raph's fingers tapped against the wood, slow and rhythmic phump-ump-ump, phump-ump-ump. He held his head in his other hand and tutted out small beats on his breath. He looked at Mikey to see if he would initiate the conversation that was on both their minds, but he seemed more interested in the way his drink looked sloshing against the sides of his cup than anything else.

"I'm worried about him." Raph decided to speak and begin the conversation. The way he looked at Mikey told him that he wanted to know what had happened last night after he had gone back to his bedroom.

With a sigh, Mikey said, "He's set on trying to get him back."

Raph rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head back and forth. "I miss him, too. And I wish we could bring him back. But..." The silence that followed the trailing off of his sentence said it all.

"Yeah," Mikey agreed quietly, disappointment and understanding in his voice. "We gotta get him to stop this somehow. This isn't healthy." He ran his finger along the rim of the glass. "I don't want to let him go, Raph. But I don't think this is how we should be handling this."

"I know," Raph nodded. "I don't think I'll ever move on, yaknow? But this ain't right." He leaned forward and lowered his voice as he asked Mikey, "Did he ever go to sleep last night?"

"I didn't hear him leave his lab at any point after going to bed. Maybe he slept in there?" They both knew that was hopeful thinking, but they couldn't be upset with him about it. One look at each other told them that they hadn't slept much last night – or any night, for that matter. But they had at least laid in bed and given their body a semblance of rest; Donnie hadn't done that in who knows how long.

Their cue to fall silent came as they heard Donnie's footsteps shuffling down the hallway in heavy slumps. He walked past his brothers, made himself a cup of coffee, and began to walk back towards the hall. Mikey and Raph both assumed this would be the extent of their interaction with their brother this morning, but instead, he stopped, facing away from his brothers. "I know what you're talking about."

"What do you mean?" Raph said, his voice immediately going up in pitch as he began to sweat. "We weren't talking about anything, right Mikey?"

Mikey had stiffened up, staring straight ahead. He produced a sharp laugh and said, "Yeah, nothing."

Donnie's voice was pained as he bit back, "You guys don't understand how close I am to fixing this."

Raph quickly abandoned his lie and stood to address his brother. "Donnie, there is no fixing this. We can't change the past."

"I'm going to fix this," he stated, more forcefully this time. "I'm so close to finding something that works. I can feel it."

"Donnie." Raph's voice, too, grew more forceful. Mikey knew this tone, and he stood to approach Raph to try to make him back down from this conversation, but Raph was set on sharing these words. "You are not going to find anything that works. We can't bring him back. There is no fixing this."