A/N: I really should have been doing homework for my reference class...instead I wrote this...It's meant to be fluff - honest and for true, but I dunno, you'll have to tell me and please do!

She

"If you eat the rest of that you're going to get sick."

"Nuh-uh," Mikey said around a mouthful of popcorn, unpopped kernels and all. Several fell over his plastron and bounced down to his folded legs. He brought his head back, tipped the bowl to allow the last pebble-like, butter-covered jewels to rattle around and finally scatter and skip into his awaiting open mouth. He sat crunching, one eye open, considering the texture.

Without looking at him, Donatello warned, "You know if you break those molars, I can't fix them."

He paused in his munching and eyed Don, then shrugged, continuing to chomp and grind the rock-like snack into mush. Raphael appeared from the kitchen; sat another bowl filled to the brim and spilling over it, next to him. Mikey grinned, half-chewed bits of popcorn clung to his bottom lip and chin. Raphael gave him a pat on the head, then settled onto the couch and reached down into the bowl. He dug out a large handful and smashed it into his mouth. The crunching, crackling, smacking sound of him chewing filled the air.

Through the mouthful, he said, "Let's get this movie started!" But it came out more like, 'Lus geddis mobee darded.'

Donatello stopped typing on his laptop and stared at Raph with a look of long suffering frustration and disgust.

"Do you have to eat like that?"

"M?"

"Like a half-starved moose?"

"Sorry," Raph said, then added with a sneer, "Mom," and snickering, stuffed another handful into his mouth.

Donatello narrowed his eyes. "Just because I'm the only one around here with a modicum of simple table manners . . ."

"Hey," Leo said as he dried himself off. He'd just finished showering and had come to join his brothers for a movie marathon. He glanced at the greasy, empty bowl in Mikey's hand and sighed. "The movie hasn't even started yet," he complained.

Raph rolled his eyes, he tipped his bowl into Mikey's empty one and gave Leo a 'satisfied now?' look.

"I'm not sharing with Mikey," Leo said with a slight curl of his upper lip in disgust. "He hasn't washed his hands in over a week."

"That's . . . Mikey, that's unsanitary and really unnecessary. We have fully operational facilities for personal hygiene and grooming."

Mikey lifted his palm out of the bowl, dropping the handful of popcorn back down into it as Leo grimaced. He wiped his hand on the outside of his opposite arm. It left a large swath of shiny grease where he rubbed. He glanced at his palm and held it out for inspection.

Donatello cocked his brow. "I think you only made it filthier. Go jump in the shower, we'll wait."

"I don't want to."

"Yeah, I want to start the movie already," Raph said. "Besides, he only has to if Splinter says."

Donatello set his computer to one side. He pointed to his palm with one finger as he explained, "Do you realize the amount of bacteria that is crawling around that hand? We could easily contract any number of -"

"Okay, Mom," Raph shook his head. "We don't need a lecture. It's bad enough we have to hear it from this one all the time. We don't need a Mommy on top of Splinter Jr. here." He jabbed a thumb towards Leonardo.

Leonardo bristled. But instead of lashing out at Raph, he spun on Donatello, redirecting his embarrassment on his brother.

"He's right, Don. You do act like our mom or something, sometimes," he muttered, quickly losing steam. He didn't really want to tease Don, but his brother did get under his shell at times with his badgering over domestic issues. Like burning the toast . . . and setting the toaster on fire the other morning. It wasn't his fault that the bread got stuck and wouldn't come out until he used the end of his tanto blade to pry it free, resulting in a spark which ignited the rag that he'd been using to keep the toaster still while executing his operation 'save the toast'.

Donatello's mouth hung open as his gaze snapped from Raph to Leo and back again.

"Just because I want this place somewhat clean and tidy, just because I want us to stay healthy-" he sputtered.

This time Leo rolled his eyes and Raph, catching onto Leo's aggravation, he decided that his big brother was up for joining in on the fun. He jumped up; spilling popcorn all over the floor. He wasn't about to let this opportunity pass. Leo was usually so stuck up on himself, it was refreshing to get him on his side for a change.

"I've heard of Mama's Boys before, but you're just a Mama," he snickered and threw a handful of popcorn at Don who batted at it ineffectively. "Better get your apron on, Mom. Looks like I made a mess."

Leo chuckled and added, "Yeah, uh, Mommy, you better, um, tell us a story before bedtime."

Raphael stopped what he was doing and gave Leo a disbelieving look before pelting him with popcorn. "Man, you are really bad at this."

It was an all-out kernel flinging war before they became aware that Mikey was standing to one side with his head down; quiet, not looking at any of them. Leo was the first to notice. He dropped the pillow he was using as a shield and held up his hand. Raph called to Don a few more times, taunting him with titles of Mom, Mama, Mum, and Mother Dearest, before realizing that something was wrong. He twisted around where he knelt next to Don. Donatello peered out from under the bowl on his head. Errant puffs of yellowed kernels rained down over his shoulders.

"Hey," Leo ventured to Michelangelo, "something wrong?"

He shook his head. Then to everyone's surprise, he bolted from the room. The three remaining brothers exchanged confused glances.

"What was that all about?" Raph asked.

Donatello set the bowl down and stood up. He wiped the grease from his forehead with the back of one arm. Leo crossed the room; Raph and Don followed close behind. They clustered around Mikey's door. Leo rapped on it with the knuckle of one finger.

"I'm busy right now," came the muffled, slightly strained, response.

They considered this only for a moment, then barreled into the room. They found him on his bed, clutching a pillow to his stomach, staring at the floor between his feet. Nose pressed up and wrinkled from leaning hard on the pillow. His eyes were wide and glassy. He gave them a fleeting look before he buried his full face into the end of the pillow. They stood like that, unsure, for another minute or two before Leonardo took the lead. He cleared his throat and crouched down before his youngest brother.

Gently, he asked, arms resting on his knees, "Mikey, you want to tell us what happened out there?"

He shook his head, keeping his face in the pillow. He mumbled something and Leo inched closer. Raph reached over and plucked an errant kernel from the edge of Donatello's shell and after glancing around for a trash can and finding none available, flicked it into his mouth. Donatello gave him a disapproving look which he ignored and moved to sit on one side of Mikey. Raph leaned his shoulder against the wall, cocking one knee and crossing his legs at the ankle.

"What did you say?" Leo asked.

Mikey came up for air, eyes clamped shut. "It's stupid." Then dropped back down.

"We were just kiddin' back there, Mikey. C'mon, why do you have to get like this?"

"Like what?"

Raph shrugged, then realizing that Mikey couldn't see it, said, "I dunno. You know, all goofy on us whenever . . ." he trailed off and fidgeted.

Donatello and Leo were gazing at each other. A silent conversation of inquiry and response. A wordless communication built upon years of living with only one another; all of them developing an uncanny understanding of each other's thoughts, closer than twins in many ways; the bond of the tight-knit family, of love and patience, of aggravation and arguments, of forgiveness and empathy. A wave of remorse washed over Leo's face as understanding dawned. Now he knew what the problem was, the instant that Donatello understood as well. By the sudden rigidness behind him, the message was received by Raphael as well.

This again.

"Mikey," he said, some pleading note in his voice. "We didn't mean anything by it."

He surfaced again and gave them a nervous laugh, "I know." His laugh sounded like an effort to remain light while a sob weighed the edges down. He sobered and stared at Leo; bottom lip trembling slightly.

"I know it's stupid, too. To get . . . upset." Leonardo only shook his head in denial of Mikey saying he was stupid. "But I just . . ." Mikey lowered his mouth and chewed on the edge of the pillow. Between the fabric he said, "How can you guys tease about . . . about having a mom when . . . when we don't have ours around. I mean," he added quickly, looking up and around at each of them, gauging their expressions but lurching onwards before they could interrupt him. "I know she'd just be some, some turtle out in the world, or-or worse, trapped in some pet shop fish tank somewhere," his eyes took on a distant, lonely haze, he went on in a low voice, "But, she's still . . . she'd still be ours."

"You have to forget about that," Raph said impatiently. He cut the air in front of where he stood with a chopping motion. "That was before our lives were changed from the mutagen. That life . . . that primitive, non-life, whatever you want to call that . . . well, that ended when we became what we are now. And I wouldn't change a thing."

Donatello nodded and draped his arm around Mikey's shoulders. "He's right, Mikey. I guess we're sort of like orphans, but," he added in haste, after seeing Raphael's face clearly darken, indicating that he was not helping, "it's not so bad. We have our intellect. Our compassion. We have each other."

"And we have Splinter," Leo added firmly.

"And our friends," Raph added, standing up straighter. "Casey, Mr. Murakami, too."

Donatello added quickly, "And don't forget about April."

Mikey gave him a watery chuckle and rolled his eyes. They all laughed after that, including Donatello, at his own expense, but not minding. Mikey sniffled and chuckled some more before he ducked his head in acknowledgement of their comforting words. They were doing their best. He knew. And he knew they weren't wrong, despite the hole remaining firmly in place, aching whenever he let his guard down too long. Their concern helped it feel a little less gaping. Until the next time he thought too long about her. And the possibility that was her. The unknowing of what she'd be like. The strange yearning, hurting that accompanied his wandering thoughts whenever he watched Mary Poppins or Dumbo or worst yet, Bambi. He really thought April was secretly out to kill him emotionally by bringing those last two over for him to watch.

"Yeah, you guys are right," he said with a deep, wavering exhale. Then, "But, could you . . . could you just . . . not - tease about that anymore."

Raph nodded immediately. "You got it, bro."

Leo stood up. He nodded his agreement as well. Raph put his arm around Leo and gave him a pat on the chest. "Splinter Jr. along with Splinter is enough authority figures around for me."

Leo gave him a half-hearted glare and he shrugged. Without looking at him, he added, "You know you're a total Splinter wanna be. Emphasis on the wanna part." He ducked and scrambled from the room as Leonardo swung at him, then chased him.

"As leader, I order you to respect my authority!" Leo hollered from the living room.

Donatello smirked, then by inches, it faded. His expression turned more serious; thoughtful; watching Mikey from the corner of his eye as he wiped at his not-quite tears forming at the creases of his cheeks and eyelids. Quietly, he said, "It would have been nice, though."

Mikey looked at him and dropped his eyes. One trailing line of moisture escaped. Donatello watched it make its way down the curve of his little brother's cheek. He knew if they had a mother, she'd have whisked it away on her fingertip, soothing Mikey's hurt with a single smooth gesture. Don felt his heart pinch for all that they were missing. It was not the first time.

Mikey made a soft noise and bobbed his head. Donatello's hands tented and he rested his chin onto his thumbs; head full of imagining what it would have been like. If they had a mother. Things certainly would have been different. Would they even be the same? If she mutated with them, what would she have looked like? Would he turn to her to ask about how to talk to April? Could she have helped him understand April better? Would she have married Splinter? Would she have loved them as he did? Or more? Would she . . .?

"Yeah," Mikey agreed, interrupting Donatello's train of thought, and flopped back onto his bed, hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling with glassy eyes. "You know . . . I think it would have been great."