Refuge

Disclaimer: I do not own TMNT, even though I wish I did.

Shouts echoed through the lair, as well as the sounds of things being thrown across the room and hitting the floor. Mikey sighed. Leo and Raph were at it again, fighting like there was no tomorrow. Just another typical day.

Mikey silently waited for the fight to end as it always did. However, unfortunately, it escalated into a shouting match of grand proportions, and, to make a long story short, Raph went storming out of the lair.

Leo was still there, and he looked none too happy, so Mikey slipped out as quietly as he had slipped in. He hated it when any of his brothers fought with one another. He hated fighting with his brothers.

The youngest turtle sought refuge in his room, as he always did. It was not the room itself that he found comforting; it was what lay in it.

Mikey slowly and carefully lifted his mattress, and even more carefully removed his drawing pad and drawing pencils. He opened the drawing pad to a blank page and began a sketch of his brothers; Don, the brainy one, with his intelligent and gentle face, Leo with his watchful eyes, protecting them all, Raph with his passion and fire; more importantly, his good and noble heart. Mikey also drew Master Splinter, with his wisdom, strength, and kindness.

Finally, he added himself, the goofy one, the childish one. He was the odd one out. His brothers and father were so much more serious. They'd all played vital roles in their various successful battles against their enemies. What was he? Leonardo was the leader, Raphael was the fighter, Don was the brains, and Master Splinter was their guidance. But where did he, Mikey, fit into the picture?

Mikey stared at his now finished picture, studying his own goofy grin. He was so different. Sighing, he put down his sketchbook, his refuge, and left his room, the door remaining wide open.

Unseen, Donatello, or Don, also called Donnie, watched his little brother leave; wondering what was going through his head. Mikey looked strangely thoughtful, almost as though he were pondering something.

Although he knew that it was an invasion of privacy, Don entered his little brother's room, curiosity ruling him from within. A drawing pad lay open on the bed, along with a box of fine-quality drawing pencils. Had Mikey been drawing?

Don slowly paged through the sketchbook, silently marveling at his little brother's skill. Mikey was a wonderful artist. He not only drew, he captured emotions, the very essence of the people he drew. He captured the people themselves.

When he reached the last drawing, the most recent one, Don was rendered speechless with awe. Mikey, with a pencil in his hand, had completely captured Leo's strength and honor in such a simple, beautiful way that it almost brought tears to his eyes. Raph was there, too, the fire in his eyes that glowed in reality magically cast onto the page. He, Don, had a place as well. Mikey had portrayed him as strong, with deep, intelligent eyes and a soft-spoken exterior. However, Mikey truly outdid himself with his drawing of Master Splinter, with his kind face, and the keen intelligence and hidden strength glowing in his eyes.

When he got to Mikey's depiction of himself, however, his pleasure faded. Above the sketch of himself, he had written, 'the dumb one'. Don grimaced. He hadn't known that Mikey felt that way. His little brother was a great deal deeper than anyone could have guessed. So this was how Mikey dealt with everything. He released it through his art.

Don closed the book, leaving the room. He had to tell Mikey what he really was, how he was their light in darkness. Mikey had to know that for all his dumb jokes, he still had a golden heart that was as big as a New Mexico sky.