Chapter Text
It took a whole day for Donnie’s desktop to become usable again.
The thing was glitching so much Donnie was worried that a virus had somehow wormed its way through his multiple iron-clad firewalls. The screensaver became unrecognisable as it jerked and seized, full of bright colours that did wonders (he thinks, sarcastically) for his growing headache. But every time they tried to fix it they just made it worse. It had started after they had returned to the lab after their not-panic-attack, and since then every screen he owned had dissolved into an impenetrable wall of static that flickered in time with his ragged breaths.
So yeah, he knew what was causing it, but that didn’t mean he had to acknowledge it. As frustrating as it might have been. With a roadblock such as this there was no way to complete any of the tasks he needed to. That also meant that any chats with Vincent were also off the table, at least for now. Ugh, his emotions negligence was causing their family to lose money now too. Ridiculous.
And it was just that: ridiculous. While he may have come around to the use of mystic abilities, Donnie still wasn’t incredibly enthused with the entire idea of it just yet. Especially when it had such adverse side effects. He could bond with a machine, bend it to his will with the wave of a hand without the need for an interface to slow him down. But sometimes it caused things like this to happen too. While yes, the synergy of magic and machine combining was enthralling, it was still magic at the end of the day. The ying and yang of technology and mysticism, the line between objective and subjective… that was still incredibly difficult to understand. Especially when magic, at its core, relies so heavily on emotion.
…Aaaaand a secret second thing because there was no way that Donnie was feeling anything strongly enough to brick his computer.
So he decided to do one of the jobs on his list (not that he could even access it at the moment to check) that involved no technology at all: fixing the walls. They had been badly damaged when the Sister Krang attacked, and this had caused the structural integrity to decline a bit. And by a bit Donnie meant whole-ass cave-ins and half of the lair being buried under the rubble.
In the days after the invasion, Donnie and Splinter had gone around saving as much of the space as they could while Raph moved debris and Mikey, April, and Casey sorted through their belongings and rescued as much of their lives as they could. Donnie had produced some supports, moulding rebar and other metals littered around the partially-destroyed New York with his ninpo, bending them into shape and reinforcing them and the sewer walls in the process. His ninpo still lingered on them now, strengthening them.
They needed to be replaced.
So that’s what they had been doing all morning. That and avoiding Leo, but that was a given. They didn’t want to see that look in his brother’s eyes again.
"Heeeeeello up there!"
Donnie let out an undignified squeak in surprise.
They extinguished the blowtorch that they had been holding and rolled over, flipping up their goggles to reveal Mikey waving frantically from the base of scaffolding.
"Michael? What are you doing here?"
Mickey stuck his tongue out, "Let me up there and I'll tell you!"
While Mikey was usually the most welcome company out of his brothers (Raph tended to turn conversations into worry-laced lectures and well… Leo was Leo), Donnie really didn’t feel up to being around anyone at the moment. Even his self-proclaimed favourite brother.
“As you can see I’m ensuring that none of you get mortally crushed by the roof caving in. Please take a number and come back later.”
Done with the conversation, Donnie moved to flip back around, but before he could do so he heard the tell-tale sign of sniffling float up from below.
Oh no.
Reluctantly, Donnie turned back to see Mikey on the ground, eye brimming with tears. He looked so sad but- no! Donnie would not back down!
A couple of extra sniffs and a weapons-grade-level dose of puppy-dog eyes later and Donnie’s will crumpled like a wet paper bag under the assault of a handful of New York pigeons.
"Fine, come on then," Donnie huffed, "we can talk while I work.”
They stared down at their little brother who made absolutely no move to join them on the platform whatsoever.
"...I'm confused. I said you could come up?"
Mikey grinned, "Yeah but I want you to carry me. Make one of those fancy mystic platforms. Or a ladder! Oh! Or a cool reverse slide!"
Mikey wanted him to use his mystic abilities? That was pretty par for the course after he had unlocked them after the Shredder fight. Mikey always needed something or other materialised for him, and Donnie was usually happy to oblige (after a quick pantomime of reluctance). After all, he did get the coolest powers out of all of them, it made sense that his brothers would want to make use of them. However, with everything going on, using his ninpo to create something that would be the only barrier between his littlest brother and a sheer drop?
Yeah, not today.
But Donnie didn't want to articulate all of that, so they settled on:
"I... don't think reverse slides are a thing. I haven’t quite cracked that particular Newtons law but I’m working on it. Can't you just climb up yourself?"
"Yeah, but I'm having a bad arm day and I'm tired. Plus you're my big sib so you've got to- legally."
Mikey seemed one more refusal away from unleashing another round of begging. Donnie sighed, there was no way of getting out of this was there?
"Mmh, fine. But when you go on the next supply run you're keeping an eye out for extra flavourless juice boxes."
Donnie shuffled around until he was on his knees overlooking the edge of the platform. They took a deep breath and concentrated- looking within himself for that familiar hum of energy. It was... wispier, than usual- for lack of a better word. There was less substance to it, like its viscosity had significantly decreased. Brushing his mental fingers through it he found his hold on it slipping through like a fine mist. Although he wasn’t particularly fond of the mystic arts, he had most definitely become more reliant on it over the past two years. Reaching for his ninpo was more of a reflexive action than an active effort by this point, and not being able to connect to it fully felt like missing a step on the stairs from your childhood home.
It took a second, but that flow of mystic energy rose to the surface. Weaker than they’d have liked, but still causing their markings to glow and effervescent neon purple. They raised a hand, and with a flick of a finger a platform (with safety rails- he'd rather be within OSHA regulations than Geneva ones) appeared beneath Mikey with a crackle of static electricity.
The platform rose- slower than usual. The effort of creating and maintaining a construct was far more than he’d experienced before, even in the first few weeks of unlocking his powers. The closest feeling to this had been after a couple of particularly bad meltdowns or after the Krang fight, but even then he hadn’t felt this drained.
The glowing square made it to the top with barely a flicker, depositing Mikey safely on top of the scaffolding next to Donnie. As soon as Mikey was clear of the platform, Donnie released his hold on their mystic energy, letting it dissipate into a mass of rectangles and static. Their arms trembled slightly as they covertly breathed out a sigh of relief. Hopefully Mikey hadn’t picked up on that.
Said turtle sat on the edge of the platform, dangling his legs over the edge as Donnie desperately tried to assess his brother for a motive. Easier said than done, Donnie thought as he watched Mikey sitting there innocently. Perhaps too innocently…
"So, are you going to tell me what you're here for?" Donnie asked as they turned their attention back to the wall, switching out the blowtorch for a power drill to save Mikey's poor unprotected eyes. He’d been trying to get them all to wear matching goggles for years- for both style and protection- but according to Leo they’re a ‘crime against fashion and Donnie should be burned at the stake for even suggesting it.’
"Well, Raph's worried about you so he wanted me to do a quick check up and go all Dr Delicate Touch on you so that you'll sort yourself out," Mikey swung his legs back and forth while he added, "Oh and he also told me not to tell you that I was doing that."
Donnie lifted his finger from the button of the drill, "If Leo were here he’d definitely cuss you out for your narc behaviour and- wait. Raph's... worried? About me?"
"Hyeah! Also so am I, but Raph's suuuuper worried. Like, if he had hair I'm sure it'd be falling out by now between you and Leo."
Donnie sat up, discarding the power drill and twisting around to face Mikey.
"Me and Leo? Leo's the one with- you know what? I don't have time for Dr Delicate Touch right now and- what are you doing?"
With an insufferable grin that rivalled Leo's own, Mikey slowly pulled out a pair of round-rimmed glasses from behind his back.
"No, NO. Anything but him, please-"
“’S too late, bro," Mikey placed the glasses precariously on his snout, "It's already in motion. Dr Feelings is back, baby!"
Donnie dragged a hand down his face, exasperated.
"Ugh I would have preferred beach balls to this."
"Well, I'm glad that my exposure therapy is working. Now, are you ready to begin seminar 1.2: Healthy Coping Mechanisms for Dummies and/or Traumatised Teens?"
The only reply Donnie could come up with was an undignified groan.
"I'll take that as a yes! I can't drag the projector up here so I'm not going to have the slides I prepared, and this platform isn’t big enough for the choreography, but please imagine how great this would be with them."
Donnie huffed in dismay.
"Michael, I love you dearly, but if I have to go through one of your feelings seminars I'll push you off this platform. I’ll deal with whatever repercussions that comes with it."
It was an empty threat. Hiding Mikey's unicorn figurine collection was a much better alternative. He'd never see it coming.
"Yeah yeah, you can push me off after the seminar," Mikey pulled a clipboard and pen from behind him (where was he getting that from?), "Now, how about we communicate openly about how we're feeling right now? I'll go first.”
Mikey cleared his throat, “I feel happy that I'm here with you right now. Your turn!"
Donnie took a deep breath, "OK... I feel like… this is a waste of time."
Mikey scribbled something down on the clipboard, "Great! And why do you feel like this is a waste of time?"
"Because everything is fine, and this is unnecessary."
"Mmh mmh, ok, and why do you feel like this is unnecessary?" Mikey wrote some more. What was on that paper? Donnie attempted to take a peek at the paper on the clipboard but Mikey drew it close to his chest. They continued apprehensively.
"Ugh because I have a lot of work to do (-scribble scribble), the walls are literally collapsing (-scribble)," Donnie eyed the clipboard in his younger brother's hands again, "You and Raph won't get off my case, (-scribble) we're running out of money and I don't know what to do! (-scribble scribble) And what are you writing? Give that here!"
Donnie snatched the clipboard away from Mikey as his younger brother protested, flipping it around to face them. It was... doodles. Of him, of Raph, of Mikey himself. Little flowers dotted the page. Anything but actual notes.
Donnie flipped it back around and pointed accusingly at his brother.
"What's with the note taking, Michael? What is this?"
"I was putting pressure on you to open up about your feelings and it's wor-kinggg," Mikey said in a sing-song voice, "So what's this about your crippling desire to be needed fuelling your tendency to overwork yourself?"
Donnie spluttered, "I- what? I don't know what you're talking about!"
"I've noticed that you've been retreating from us, a lot more than usual,” Mikey fixed him with a knowing stare over the brim of his glasses, “You barely talk to us, even April. Don’t worry, she’s told me all about it. Whenever I see you you’re either working or acting shifty. And every time I talk to you about it you either lie to me or push me away. Hell, if I asked you why your ninpo was acting up just now would you actually tell me?”
A snappy retort died on Donnie’s tongue because no, he realised, he wouldn’t tell Mikey the truth. Even though their lies were abysmal at best it had become a reflex over the past month. A shiver of cold ran through them when they realised that lying had come to him easier than his ninpo had.
This was really not good. That panic from earlier that they had managed to quell to a low buzz had reared its ugly head again. Their chest felt tight with it.
“I… how- how did you know?” The words came out forced, Donnie’s throat seizing around them. Shit now was not the time.
“You haven’t touched your phone in 2 minutes, which if you don’t know is a new record.”
…Touché.
“Look, I’m worried about you. And the best thing to do is to talk about your feelings. Feelings? Feeeeeelings. Wow, I’ve said that word so much it doesn’t even sound real anymore.”
Donnie opened his mouth to speak but… nothing came out. He knew what he wanted to say, the word were there. But trying to drudge up the effort to actually say them felt like swimming through molasses. He switched to sign.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why? I want to help you.” Mikey responded in stilted sign, his movements jerky and hesitant. While Mikey was better than Raph at the adapted ASL they had devised, (Raph had never been one for learning languages, though he had managed to learn as much as necessary), he was no where near Leo and Donnie’s level of fluency. The twins brothers could have long, complex conversations with just their hands, and while Mikey could understand it well enough he struggled with translating his own sentences into signs. Especially now. Donnie glanced down at the cracks that were etched in Mikeys arms. They gently pushed their brother’s hands down, then motioned for him to keep speaking.
“Oh, ok. Well, what’s the problem? Why don’t you want to talk about it? Is it because you think I won’t understand?”
Donnie slowly shook his head no. Out of anyone he’d think that Mikey would understand him the most. He was the self-proclaimed therapist of the family, after all. What Donnie was struggling was admitting that there was a problem in the first place. They knew that there was a feeling swirling in his chest, sitting heavy on his ribs. He’d felt it after the invasion, but if he was honest with himself it was there even before then. Not as harsh, not as raging. But still there. Like an ever-present cloud hanging over them- signalling doom. What kind of doom they weren’t sure what. But even if there was a gun to his head or a Krang tentacle wrapped around his throat he still wouldn’t be able to tell you what that feeling was.
“I-,” Donnie started, desperately trying to move their hands into shapes that their mind didn’t have the ability to describe, “I don’t know where to start.”
Mikey thought for a moment before answering resolutely.
"How about we both ask each other questions but we have to pinkie-swear to tell the truth?"
"How do you expect me not to lie?"
"First of all: the sanctity of a pinkie-swear is something that you can never betray, and second we both know that we're shit liars."
Donnie had the good sense to pretend to be righteously offended.
"Scoff. If you don't leave me be I'll tell Raph that you swore."
"And if you do that I'll tell Raph about the time with his prized stuffed bear when you-"
"M-Mikey!” Donnie cried, both the shock and the familiarity of the conversation finally loosening the feeling in his throat enough to speak, albeit scratchily, “That is straight up diabolical, I'm proud.”
Mikey preened at the praise.
“OK... fine. I will... tell you... about my..." After a frankly mortifying amount of time Donnie finally managed to grit out, "Feelings."
They gagged- the word left a bad taste on their tongue.
“Great!” Mikey exclaimed sincerely, holding out one of his digits for a pinkie swear.
Donnie usually liked to have their lawyers present when they entered such an important legal contract, but he resigned to his fate and raised his “pinkie” as well.
“Thanks! Now we’ve got that out of the way, how about you ask me a question first?” Mikey folded his hands in his lap.
Well, Donnie had pinkie-swore…
“Let’s start with something I’ve been getting a lot of recently:” Donnie tried to channel as much middle-child spite into his words as possible (hey, he’d promised to tell the truth, not to make this whole process easy), “How are you feeling?”
Mikey’s expression changed away from the picture definition of pure optimism and back in a split second before answering, “Worried about you, I suppose. And Raph. And Leo. And Casey. And… well everyone. Lots of worrying going on at the moment,” Mikey started to list everything on his fingers, “Oh, and how we don’t see a lot of each other anymore, but you already know that. I’m scared that I won’t be able to draw like I used to. That my arms will be all out of whack forever. Hmm… what else… oh! And I feel happy because we’re talking to each other!”
That was… a lot. Probably too much to address right now. Mikey looked at Donnie with no expectations in his eyes, but he was tense. Their brother’s finger clenched tightly around each other in a way Donnie inferred must have been painful, especially with the barely-healed scars marking his skin. He wanted to reach out but… Donnie thought back to a certain seminar that related to expressing your feelings.
“I’m… sorry? That you feel that way, Michael. I didn’t know that was something you were going through. That must be… tough?” Donne silently scolded himself for the choppiness of their words. Ugh why was this so hard?
Despite the lacklustre (in Donnie’s opinion) words of comfort, it actually seemed to have done the trick- at least partially. While is didn’t relieve all of the tension from Mikey’s shoulders, (which now Donnie was actually looking for it seemed to have not disappeared completely since before the invasion) his digits relaxed, and if Donnie didn’t know any better they would have said that Mikey breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thank you Donald, I really appreciate that,” Mikey gave his sibling a genuine smile, “Now, time for my question, I’ll start with something easy… what are you working on at the moment?”
Donnie’s expertly-pencilled brows furrowed.
“You’ll have to be more specific. Do you mean right this second, or in general?”
Mikey tutted, “Ah ah ah, that counts as a question, D. Just interpret the question how you like.”
“Dramatic sigh. Fine,” Donnie pulled up his to-do list from his wrist, “Here’s everything. It’s ordered both by most pressing and by time the request was received. I’ve been working through them accordingly.”
Mikey’s face fell as he took in the uniformed rows upon rows of tasks, “That’s… a lot, D.”
Donnie laughed, a short thing full of a bit more bite than they intended, “That’s not that half of it my dear sweet Angelo, you haven’t scrolled down.”
Mikey leaned around the glowing projection to look his brother in the eye.
“Is that everything you’ve been trying to fix recently? All by yourself?”
There was something in the expression Mikey had shot his way. Something eerily familiar. But of course Donnie had recognised it, he had seen it just yesterday. But that time it had been from behind a blue mask, not an orange one: Pity.
The screen flickered.
“Now Michael that was 2 questions, and apparently you’re a stickler for the rules now so…” Donnie interrupted quickly.
“…O-kay. In the spirit of the sacred pinkie-promise I won’t push, for now. Your turn.”
Time to direct things towards...
“Raph. Why are you worried about him? I mean, he’s fine,” Donnie quicky corrected themselves, “Not fine-fine. But fine.”
Mikey fidgeted with the edges of his compression gloves, his brow furrowed.
“He’s been working really hard on giving us all space lately and not mother-henning us. I’ve really appreciated it, to be honest. He’s always treated me like the baby, I mean, can you believe him?”
Donnie thought back to the time he’d caught Mikey in the kitchen at 2 in the morning with his head stuck in the peanut butter jar because he’d been trying to desperately lick the last bits from the bottom. That was last week. It had taken them 2 hours, an industrial saw, and 3 blocks of real butter to get him free.
“Nooooo I most certainly can’t I have no clue what he’s talking about. Go on.”
“He’s been trying to let us handle things on our own and not crowd us. Especially Leo. And I completely get that and respect it. But sometimes I just need Raph you know?”
Donnie definitely understood that sentiment. Now that he mentioned it, it had been a long time since Donnie had been on the receiving end of a Raph hug…
“Besides that, I think he’s also struggling too. But he doesn’t want to talk to me about it other than the surface level stuff he’s dealing with, there’s got to be a whole heap o’ things he’s repressing. That’s all our family seems to be, a big ball of repression and self-loathing.”
Donnie gave a low whistle.
“I’m going to be honest, I’m not sure how to unpack all that. I only have one comforting line prepared and I’m not willing to sound like a broken record. That was definitely a lot of unauthorised questions though.”
“Ugh that’s not fair! It’s completely impossible! I mean, can you even have a conversation without asking questions?”
“I don’t know, can you?”
“Umm… no?”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I don’t know what you mean?”
“What? Do you not understand what I’m trying to do?”
Mikey gasped, “Deception! Fooling your own brother! For shame!”
Donnie laughed, a real laugh this time.
Mikey huffed and crossed his arms, pouting, “I should still get to ask my question though. It’s a doozy.”
“I’m scared but continue.”
Mikey’s eyes gained a gleefully menacing look, like a tiger ready to pounce.
“Why have you been acting so shifty all week, hmmm?”
Donnie blanched, “Shifty? I don’t know about shifty. Mysterious? Yes. Totally cool loner bad-boy? Also yes. But shifty-?”
Donnie cut themselves off when Mikey levelled him one of those looks. The kind that says if-you-break-your-pinkie-swear-you’ll-feel-my-wrath. Donnie gulped.
“What I meant to say was…”
Eugh boy they were really doing this weren’t they? Donnie took in a deep breath, then spoke quickly. Best to do this as fast as possible.
"I've been talking to someone online."
"You mean, like a therapist?" Mikey gazed at him, curiously, "I mean, I'm proud for you sib, but as my client I feel a bit betrayed with you talking to another doctor behind my back-"
"No no, it's not like that. The exact opposite," Donnie says, then quickly adds under his breath, "no matter what it feels like sometimes..."
Mikey was quiet for a moment. Too quiet. Then:
“Well shoot, I owe Leo five bucks.”
Donnie spluttered, “What?!”
“Raph, Leo, and I had a betting pool going. Raph had money on a secret partner, and I wagered on you joining an improv comedy troop and that you were too embarrassed to tell us about it for obvious reasons. Leo guessed that it was ‘literally anything else other than that those are both impossible’ so he wins!”
Donnie supposed that if he were more human than turtle they would have been blushing right now.
“I could totally have a secret partner!” Donnie said defensively, “You’re wrong about the improv though I’d never stoop so low. I’m frankly mortified that you’d think that of me.”
Mikey shrugged, “It was the only thing I could think of that you’d be embarrassed enough about not to tell us. Is that why you kept it secret? Because you thought it was embarrassing?”
“No! I mean, kind of. Yes. I’m not the feelings guy. I’m the opposite of the feelings guy. It was the only option I could think of to get us some extra cash. It was necessary, ok? Even if I had to take on a role that I… don’t usually have to fill.”
Donnie looked at the floor in front of him like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Both out of a quite shame and knowing that the look would be there to greet them if they didn’t.
“Is this… is it about the-“
“I don’t want to talk about that,” Donnie said quickly, then added softly, “Please.”
Donnie quickly steered the conversation back.
“I really want to help this guy- Vince. But he’s so- so stubborn! It’s infuriating, every time I try anything he just changes the subject, it feels like we’re getting absolutely no-where! It feels more like a casual conversation on his end than actual therapy, if you can even call it that! He barely even admits he’s got a problem! He’s just so… so…”
“Hard-headed?”
“Yes! That’s it!”
“Emotionally-constipated? Obnoxiously narrow-minded?”
“Obviously!”
“And oblivious?”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“I had a hunch.”
Donnie sighed, regaining some of their composure.
“We made a bit of a breakthrough. A small one. He promised to try- at least. And I should be happy right? That he actually wants me to help him now. But what’s stopping him from not being honest anymore? Or closing off again? There’s too many variables that are unaccounted for.”
“And? So what if he does?”
Donnie stopped in their tracks, “What?”
“What if Vince goes back to deflecting and turning down your offers to help?”
Donnie thought on that for a moment. What would Mikey do?
“Probably… keep trying? I mean, he’s still messaging me, right?”
“Yeah, exactly. He’s still coming to you. So something you’re doing must be working. You said that it feels more like a chat than anything?”
Donnie nodded.
Mikey readjusted his glasses and stated evenly, with a practiced sageness that he definitely got from Splinter, “Well then just talk to him. Even the playing field, let him feel like he’s also in control. Make it feel more like a conversation and he might be more inclined to open up. Emphasise the chat part of the programme rather than the therapy part.”
“And how do you know that will work?”
Mikey gave him a smug grin that was usually reserved for when he’d just nabbed the last pizza slice and knew it. He placed a hand on Donnie’s arm.
“Because, Donald, it just has.”
And suddenly it was like everything had snapped into place. All of the meagre training, the research, it had meant nothing. Mikey had just managed to get him the closest to spilling his guts than that one Witch Town episode. Donnie hadn’t even stopped to put his guard back up before he’d realised it had been down. He couldn’t believe it. He’d been so caught up in the fixing part that he hadn’t even bothered to stop and listen.
“Boom baby! Dr Feeling strikes again, giving you well-meaning emotional support without you even realising it! I’ve truly outdone myself!”
“Yes, yes! Why hadn’t I thought of this before?!” Donnie squished the sides of Mikey’s face and looked him gleefully in the eye, “Michael you’re a genius!”
“Um… fank ooo?” Mikey said confusedly from between his brother’s hands.
Donnie released Mikey, pulling a notepad and pen from his battle shell and standing up to pace.
“In all of my research I’d never even thought to-! Yes, this should work perfectly! The data’s adding up! Ohohoho I’m going to rub this in Vincent’s face so hard and he won’t even see it coming!”
“Well, maybe ‘rubbing it in his face’ isn’t the most healthy way of going about this-“
Donnie laughed manically as they furiously scribbled on the paper, their hand flying across the page a mile a minute. Donnie stepped off the scaffolding, his feet meeting a glowing platform that had just materialised- solid and strong beneath his feet.
“I’m going to therapize him so good that my boss will have to give me a raise! Whoever that is and whatever that means!”
The platform flew towards the ground, Donnie barely waiting for it to stop before they sprinted off in the direction of their lab, the hiss of static emanating from it having been replaced with a calm, reasonable silence. Mikey watched Donnie retreat back into his lab, hopefully this time without the intensions of locking himself in there and away from the world again.
“Woo hoo! Go get them bro-bro! I believe in you! Another successful job completed by the one, the only, Dr Feelings!”
…
“Wait Donnie how am I supposed to get down?”