A/N: So this oneshot is all Lil Ole Me 97 's fault. I was content and happy with writing Raph and Leo's rooms when I get this review saying how I just can't leave out Don and Mikey… and so here we are. I really hope that you all enjoy!
Michelangelo dashed into the room, just barely managing to stop himself from slamming the door in his haste and fear. He slid to the floor and attempted to quiet his desperately gasping breaths. He did not want his pursuer to find him, not here, cornered and without weapons. The turtle shuttered.
In the hallway behind him heavy and menacing footsteps slowly stomped their way past the room. There was a slight pause before the door behind which the orange banded turtle had taken shelter. He was sure that he would be discovered and stopped breathing as the footsteps had approached, but the footsteps continued past the door, taking his attacker away from him further down the hall. He all but collapsed with relief only to quickly sit back up and gasp as he was forcefully reminded of the need to start breathing again. He fearfully pressed his ear to the door and, when satisfied, turned to survey the room in which he had taken refuge.
It had been a calculated risk ducking into this particular room. There had been the chance, slight though it may have been, that his pursuer could have followed him, or even that the room could already have been occupied. But if there was one rule in his life it was that you did not go into Donny's room without permission.
Well, okay, that wasn't the only rule, but it was up there.
The fact of it was, Don was one of those turtles that you never wanted to get on the wrong side of, no matter how easy going he usually was. You know what they say about the quiet ones? Well, they were obviously talking about Donatello.
Still, with Raph out for blood, quite literally, unfortunately-not to mention hot on the younger turtle's trail- Michelangelo had been understandably more concerned with his red banded brother. But Raph was meeting Casey tonight for some 'street cleaning', and what Donny didn't know wouldn't get Mikey into trouble. As long as he didn't break anything. Or mess anything up. Really, all he had to do was hang out here for an hour tops and not get caught. Or break anything. He could do it. He was the Turtle Titan after all!
His plans laid he pushed himself away from the door and deeper into the brainiacs chamber.
The head of Donatello's bunk bed faced the door, the trailing edge of a vaguely purplish sheet marring its otherwise neat appearance. Underneath the bed a desk had replaced the lower bunk. He remembered that once, years before, that now gone lower bunk used to belong to him. The mismatched twin to this bunk had been shared by Raph and Leo, but had been destroyed in the forced evacuation of the old Lair. He felt slightly sad at the memory but stepped forward all the same.
He didn't touch the desktop computer that took up most of the desk's surface. He wasn't that crazy. And besides, he was convinced that even if he breathed on it wrong, magical flashing lights would set off warning bells in Donatello's brain. Sometimes, very rarely, Don would let Mikey or one of his other brothers use the computer in his Lab- usually after much begging from the former- but never, ever onto the one in his room. In fact he never even mentioned the thing. That's not to say that it was a big secret or anything. In fact, Donatello had been dragging around and upgrading that heap since they were, like, nine or something. Mikey would compare it to his old panda, Rufus, but then he'd have to sit through a three hour lecture on the complex circuitry and hours of work that went into making the computer what it was today and how it should never be compared to a much patched security animal. Though to be fair the last bit would come though more in Donny's slightly sad/offended presentation rather than his actual words. He tended to be rather more tactfully then other turtles who shall remain nameless. 'Raphael.' But in the end it was much easier to remain silent, and for goodness sake, not to touch the computer! 'Creepy ninja geek brain alarms,' he thought as avoided the key board and reached for the drawers.
The top held a stack of loose leaf papers, a roll of tape, a stapler, a ruler, protractor, several pencils and a variety of pens in different colors. 'Boring!' thought Michelangelo with an eye roll. 'Eeee! I must have this perfect pen!' he squealed in an abrupt turnabout as he scooped up a pen of bright orange ink, snuggling it up against his cheek. Recalling himself, he slid the drawer shut, but not before he slid said pen into his belt.
The second drawer was much more promising in the young turtle's mind. He slid it open and was met with a neatly organized filing drawer. Now normally this would have caused no excitement whatsoever, in fact, normally such a sight would put him straight to sleep, but these files were anything but normal. They had their family's names written all over them.
Now, if the files had been Leonardo's they would have been all tactical stuff. Strengths, weaknesses, weapons, techniques- Mr. Obsessive's compulsive ordering tendencies would have everything cross filed, indexed and color coded. Raphael would probably have kept track of every single time that any of his brothers had ever crossed him and, for an added bonus, just how Raph had managed to get back, pummel, or otherwise maim them in return. And, Mikey didn't even want to think about what Raph's villain files would look like. And if Leo ever ran into Raph's filing system then Mikey's dearly loved but slightly spastic older brother would probably finally have that coronary that Raph had been prophesying for the last several years. But that was beside the point. Right now Mike wanted to see what Donny had to say about them.
Naturally the turtle grabbed his own file first. Biting his own bandana tails to keep the squeal of excitement from exploding and giving his position away, he plopped down on the floor and opened the folder. 'Um, that's not quite… well, I suppose maybe it is like Donny.' He was more than a bit disappointed to find himself staring at medical files. At the moment he was looking at notes on the sprained ankle he had gotten when he had tried to do four summersaults off of his skate board and hit the ground… wrong. Don had said that it was a miracle that he hadn't shattered his whole leg. Mikey insisted that there had been an imperfection on the takeoff ramp. Anyways, none of it had been the younger turtle's fault, Raph had dared him to.
He decided to flip through it anyway, just in case it was a blind and there was some juicy stuff later on. But there was not. Just pages and pages of notes on injuries and illnesses contracted over the years. And it did go back years.
Michelangelo pulled out Raphael's file, one that was significantly bigger than his own. Raphael seemed to need stitches at least once a week, and of course there was the occasional broken rib, and- 'Ooo, I remember that concussion, that was fun!' He remembered Raph babbling about his motorcycle, and he was pretty sure their old GI-Joe, Sergeant Killer, who had been lost in the sewers of duty when they had been, like, eight. Mikey had also had fun saying absolutely anything he wanted and having Raphie boy agree with him.
Unfortunately it seemed that Don had significantly less fun at the time. Apparently he had considered brain damage to be a real possibility. Honestly, Michelangelo hadn't even considered the possibility of such a thing out of the context of Master Splinter's stories. Which he did not watch. Nope.
It also seemed that Raphael had this tendency of not bandaging up 'minor' cuts as soon as he should. Sometimes when Casey brought Raph home a little tipsy it wasn't because he was drunk. Mickey hadn't known that. He didn't even know if he wanted to know that.
But that didn't stop him from pulling up Leo's file. It was a tough call to say whose was thicker. It looked like Raphael's definitely had more entries stuffed in the folder but Mikey couldn't help but notice that Leonardo's injuries were almost always severe. That made no sense to the younger turtle; he would think that someone good enough to avoid the smaller injuries would also be good enough to avoid the larger ones. Then he ran across several notations in Donatello's notes about smaller injuries that Leo had apparently taken care of himself. In the beginning apparently a few had become infected before their older brother had gotten the hang of it. And there were a few more that just had notes on how Leo needed to improve his technique, to leave smaller scars and what not. There were even some fairly serious wounds that Michelangelo honestly did not remember Leo getting. These balanced with those that Mikey definitely remembered him getting, usually because he was protecting his younger brothers. He made sure to skip the little bit involving Leo being thrown through April's second story window. He remembered his oldest brother almost dying- he didn't want to know just how close it had actually been.
As he pulled Don's file, somewhat against what little better judgment he possessed, he could only be thankful that they were a generally healthy bunch as far as illness went, otherwise Donny would not only need a bigger desk, but would also have absolutely no free time. Then he actually opened Don's file.
Donatello had never been the fastest or the strongest of the turtles. In fact, he had been a little sickly when they were younger. Nothing huge, but he seemed to always be the first to get sick and the last to get over it. Michelangelo had thought that he had outgrown it. But then they had all grown up, stopped making sick beds out of cushions and blankets in front of the tv, stopped doting when someone got the sniffles. They all had their own preoccupations, and Don obviously wasn't too keen on everyone finding out.
And it wasn't like Donatello was running around over rooftops with pneumonia or anything, but he certainly seemed comfortable doing so with a cold. He'd even gone to practice with a fever before, at least, he had according to this. If Mikey had tried that, he would have gotten such an earful. Not that Michelangelo would ever go to practice if he was sick. He had even tried to fake being sick to get out of practice, but Master Splinter saw through everything. He was still trying to figure out if that was a ninja, or a father thing. But that really was beside the point.
Mike was pretty sure that Don would never do anything to endanger himself or his brothers, but the orange clad turtle decided to keep a closer eye on his brother anyway. He'd wait and see if he needed to pull out any of the 'elder figure' cards later.
He glanced briefly at the innocently hanging folder titled 'Splinter' before swiftly gathering everything up and shoving it back in the drawer- and yes, neatly. There was only so much he wanted to know, and he would really, really like to avoid any and all possibilities of crying today. Saltwater totally washed out orange.
He turned away to survey the rest of the room. Bookshelves basically took up the entire wall to his right, the one across from the door. He went to peruse the titles, but gave up after the first twenty all had quantum, anatomy, chemistry, or some sort of 'ology' in them. 'Seriously, ever hear of light reading, Don?' He almost ran away, but figured that he was a ninja and as such could handle some seriously brainy books. As long as no one tried to make him read them.
He did notice, as he retreated, that several shelves held inventions as opposed to books, and several more were filled with a mishmash of different styles of notebooks. He would bet his extra rare, almost mint condition, copy of Silver Sentry #45, The Master of Evil, that all those notebooks were filled with bunches and bunches of numbers and letters and symbols that somehow explained all the nifty stuff Don made, while at the same time making absolutely no sense. Unless you were a genius, apparently.
Anyway, he hoped that there was something less confusing and terrifying on Don's counter/ drafting board then what he had found in here so far.
The counters had a plethora of gadgets and appliances in various states of disrepair. There was the toaster that Leo had accidentally fried and the controller that Mikey had crushed when he had fallen asleep while playing his video games last week. There was even the shellcell that Master Splinter had tried to answer after it was already open. And there was the TV that Raph had put his sais through when the city had given Saki that humanitarian award the other day. Mikey congratulated himself on his foresight when he made their media monolith with upwards of seven screens- with this family, it was hard to tell what would happen. He supposed that was what Donny thought as well, considering the diverse but neatly stacked and catalogued parts that lined the table and the bins underneath that held every nail, nut, and screw in what seemed like the entire world. Well, at least all the junkyards in New York… He made a mental note to keep this place in mind if he ever wanted to pull a major complex prank.
After fiddling with a few things, he turned his attention to all of the overlarge sheets of paper littering the slightly slanted side of the table. There were some more random sizes of rulers and another one of those protractor things as well as a whole bunch of writing utensils. The paper's themselves were full of detailed schematics of the Lair with all of the defenses marked and annotated. Mikey had no idea that they were so well defended. He had always assumed that Don was just being obsessive, what with always checking the things, but it probably just took him that long to make rounds of all of the sensors.
Beneath that there were plans for either a new shellcyle or some major upgrades to the current one. It was filled with all sorts of scribbles about 'containment' and 'suspension' and a big 'tops speed' with a question mark. Man it looked cool.
He leafed through some more plans, some of which he recognized, and some witch he didn't, but all of which had notes indicating their various uses in and around the Lair, for its own working or that of its inhabitance. Down near the bottom of the pile he came across the original plans for the Battleshell. Attached to it by a paperclip there was his original stick figurish representation he had presented to Donatello, only now with Donny's chicken scratch all over it noting all of the crazy additions the younger turtle had wanted. The larger plan for actually modifying the captured armored truck also had some of the wanted modifications, but others were in the margins surrounded by equations and scribbles that obviously meant that they were impossible to add onto the vehicle, even for Donny.
But what really struck Michelangelo was the fact that Don had tried. A real and serious effort to do as he had asked. Mikey never figured that their genius brother ever took him so seriously. Sure, Don indulged him from time to time, more then the others, probably on account of Mikey being the only one he could baby. But usually it felt like being just that, indulged, pacified. When he had pestered Don into trying to build the car, he hadn't expected even what he gave them, let alone all of this obvious effort. In fact, as the turtle thought back through everything he had seen in his brother's room, he realized that Don spent a lot of time thinking and working for them, the family. He knew things about them, but kept their secrets, all without being asked, acknowledged, or in Mikey's case, even realized. True, Leo was always obsessing about them and planning for every possible apocalypse, though in his defense, some of them actually had tried to come about already, but that was just Leo being Leo-like. The Leader and all that jazz.
Just then he heard a heavy stomping and an all too familiar voice muttering curses as he made his way past the door. All musings forgotten, Michelangelo stood stock still as Raph pounded angrily down the stairs. He crept stealthily up to the door and pressed his ear against it to try and hear what was going on.
"I'm goin' out," Raph informed abruptly, "I got my cell, an I'm jus going with Casey. Do tell Fearless not to freak out next time ya see him."
"Um, sure, Raph," mumbled Donny distractedly before apparently realizing what was being said, "Oh, wait. I was going to try and get some work done in my room tonight, so if you and Casey run into… trouble, just make sure to stop in, alright?"
"Yeah, sure, whatever," returned Raph as he slammed the door behind him.
Michelangelo let out his breath and breathed in deeply. He was home free. He opened the door, ready to run out and grab the remote for the night, but paused in mid step. He looked back on the room and thought again about all that it held. Maybe he could get Rpah and Leo to be a little more careful. Maybe they could all help a bit more with the easy stuff around here. And maybe he would invite Don to watch one of those boring documentary movies the older turtle loved so much instead of vegging out with his favorite toons.
'After all,' he thought as he closed the door, 'no one should have to live in such a heavy room.'
A/N: heh, I just realized that Raph is the reason that the featured turtle went into a room all three time (even if one of tyhose times it was Raph). Weird. Anyways, please leave a review!