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Therapy is still weird to think about.
Mikey spent so long hiding behind his jokes and his smiles, trying desperately to go back to who he was before that to routinely needing to open up is…different. He never wanted to worry his brothers. He never wanted to be seen as weaker than he already was. But that ship has sailed. And even if they’ve reassured him that he’s not weak or whatever, he still can’t help but feel like he’s let them down.
“Sometimes I don’t want to be here.”
“What do you mean by ‘here’?”
“Like in my body. In me,” he says, erasing the arm of the hero he was drawing. Laura lets him sketch during their sessions to help him relax, which he’s grateful for. Having to talk about this shit is hard enough. If he had to sit still with nothing to do and only a doctor to look at…let’s just say he would’ve bounced five minutes in.
“Do you wish you were someone else?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes I’m away from my body.”
He hears her begin to write. “Like you floated away from it?”
“Yeah. It’s like I skip time or something. I don’t feel anything that’s happening to me. It’s all far away. And it’s better that way. It’s nice to just float and not remember all the bad. But…there are times where it isn’t. Like I’m fighting to get back, but I just can’t. I’m there, but I’m not. Like I’m a ghost being dragged through it all but unable to really do anything. Sorry, I don’t think I’m explaining it well.”
There’s a pause. Mikey finally gets the arm to Silver Sentry right.
“Mikey, do you know what dissociating is?”
“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’.
“Our brains have an instinct to protect us from danger. Fight, flight, freeze, all of those are states that our mind will delve into to prevent trauma. However, if your brain doesn’t see a physical way to remain safe or remove yourself from the situation, it’ll look at the mental side and disconnect you from your body. That disconnect is called dissociation.”
“And that’s what’s happening to me?”
She nods, “I’m going to teach you some grounding techniques. It’ll make it easier to get back to your body when you’re having trouble.”
“Sounds like a plan, doctor dude.”
“Would you like it if I shared these techniques with your brothers?”
“What?” That gives him pause. Surely him knowing is enough. He can handle it. He has to handle it. “Why?”
“If you can’t find the way back yourself, then your brothers can guide you. Ground you. Having someone there on the outside instead of being stuck drifting alone. You’ve helped Raph by being on the outside. You can let them help you the same way.”
Mikey stares at his doodles. He doesn’t want to put this on them. He doesn’t want to pile on to the list of crap that they’ve already taken upon themselves to do to help him. They shouldn’t have to help him.
But Leo said it’s okay…
“I’ll…think about it.”
***
“Okay, Mikey, let’s take a look at your hands.”
Mikey scoots closer to his brother. Donnie set up this giant lens that makes his eye look crazy big as he examines his hands. He squirms uncomfortably under his gaze.
Even with his brothers now knowing about all of the various injuries he got, Mikey still makes sure to cover each and every scar that he possibly can. All they are are reminders of all of his fuck ups, and he’d rather not have that on display, thank you very much. The only time the scars see the light of day are when he’s sleeping or in Donnie’s lab during his ‘evaluations’. His genius brother has taken it upon himself to poke and prod all of the scars that he got from Dimension X. He says it’s to look at nerve damage, skin atrophy (whatever that is), and other smart people terms that Mikey can’t ever remember.
Personally, he wishes Donnie would just leave it. But his hands have been bothering him, and he knows Don’s been concerned about them too. So, here he was.
“Do they bother you in any way?”
“A bit. They’re pretty sore. It’s kinda hard to bend them now.”
“That’s what I figured,” he says, tapping a pencil to his chin. “If you would like, I can reopen the scar tissue that’s pulling your skin backwards. I’ll then stitch up the area and with careful watch, it can hopefully restore your ability to move your fingers without issue.”
“Reopen as in?”
“I’ll use my scalpel to create an incision along the problem areas.”
Mikey looks apprehensive. He became so used to not needing help, hiding from it, and has had two years completely without it.
“Mikey, this is your call. While I believe it can only benefit you in the long run, I don’t…” Donnie sighs. “I don’t want to cause you any unnecessary trauma. Whichever option you choose will be the correct one.”
Mikey braces himself. He can do this. He’s had worse. If he wants to go back to the Mikey before, he needs to do this.
“Yeah, bro. Let’s get it going.”
Donnie gives him a nod and begins.
The first cut is quick and precise in a way only a ninja could pull off. It doesn’t feel great, but Mikey’s got this. He tries to focus on his favorite comic book and begins theorizing on what’s going to happen in the next issue. Maybe Silver Sentry absorbs the energy from the meteor and gets a crazy cool power up. The Justice Force can use the space rock to make space rock weapons. Tsunami with a meteor trident? That would be insane . What if-
His middle finger is sliced open, the sting breaking through his daydreams. He lets out a hiss. He looks back to the scalpel, but it’s not a scalpel. Don’s holding a silver scalpel a thin, jagged pink crystal.
That’s…that can’t be…
A Kraang airship’s engine roars overhead. Mikey freezes.
They’re here, they can’t be here , but he can’t be there . Time is swirling into a confusing, jumbled mess of past and present, but is it really the past if the Kraang are right there? Pink blaster bolts shoot across his vision as he feels the ragged crystals dig into his fingers as he desperately tries to crawl away. But it’s Donnie that’s causing the cuts?
He can’t be here, he’ll die. He doesn’t want to be there. He doesn’t want to be here.
He steps away.
He’s floating behind his body now. He can feel the panic nipping at his heels, but that can’t touch him here. He’s safer up here. Dimension X fades away and the blaster shots become barely audible as the gray of the sewer walls filter back in. The past and present are no longer rapidly switching between the two. In fact, the present is dulled down to its most muted self. He sees and hears everything, but it’s like he’s watching it play out on a blurry screen rather than the real world.
Donnie’s stitching up the last of his knuckles, tongue poking out the way it does when he’s concentrating. He sees his body lose the tension that he must’ve caused.
“Almost done. Are you still okay?”
“All good!” he says.
***
“How’d it go, Don?” Leo asks, gingerly examining Mikey’s knuckles. He sees his brother run his thumb gently in comfort, but there’s no feeling. It’s like he’s a ghost, only able to drift and watch.
“No complications. Had to go deeper on a few knuckles then stitch them back up, but as long as they remain mobile, he should gain most of his movement back.”
“Atta boy, doc. Knew all those smarts had to be good for something,” Raph grins, barely wrapping his arm around the tallest’s shoulders.
“Keep that attitude up and next time you can fix the pinball machine yourself,” Donnie monotones.
“What about you, Mikey? Are you able to move them better?”
“Yup,” he responds too late to be normal, wiggling his fingers as proof. Or he thinks he does? Something moves in his peripherals, and they look like his fingers, so they must be. He tries to remember what it feels like to move them. The maybe-his-fingers jerkily wiggle again.
Leo smiles at his body and some worry visibly leaves his gaze. “Alright then. Let’s get this movie night going.”
Movie night.
Something they’d all agreed on following Mikey’s recent diagnosis is that if there’s something that’s knowingly going to trigger or upset any one of them, whether that be Raph’s I.E.D. or Leo’s and Mikey’s P.T.S.D., they were going to do something as soon as they could that’s purely for relaxation or fun. Mikey must’ve chosen movies to be his go to, but that memory is so blurry to him.
Everything’s blurry.
His body’s somehow on the couch now, and he can vaguely hear the impressions of that Crognard movie he’s been wanting to see. The screen is…it’s like he’s trying to watch it from another room.
Suddenly his brothers are laughing, his body is laughing, but he’s not. He can’t .
His body is laughing.
He’s screaming.
They’re talking, joking around, throwing up popcorn and failing to catch it in their mouths. But Mikey’s barely registering any of it. How can he? He’s not there .
He doesn’t want to be drifting anymore. He wants his body back. He wants to hug his brothers and feel it and not be an observer in his own life. He wants to be safe and not have Dimension X constantly looming over his shoulder. He wants to be back and not be crushed under the panic that always comes for him after he drifts.
He’s safe here in his home. He doesn’t need to be floating anymore.
But is he safe? If he comes back, will the Kraang be waiting for him? Maybe he should just let his body take the wheel.
But he doesn’t want that.
He wants his brothers.
He doesn’t know what happens. Maybe his body’s a step too late replying, maybe it’s the ingenuine smile, maybe Leo can hear the real him, but suddenly the oldest is looking at his body with a hint of suspicion.
“Mikey? You good?”
“Yeah, bro! Don’t be such a mother hen,” he laughs. Why is he laughing? How is he laughing?
“I don’t think you are,” Leo states as he slowly moves within arm’s reach of Mikey.
“Leo?” Donnie questions.
“What? I’m fine!” I’m not. “You’re worrying over nothing.” Help me.
Leo’s hand moves up, holding his baby brother’s cheek. He’s searching his eyes. Mikey doesn’t know why. He’s not there.
“How many times did I just tap you?”
His body startles, confusion present on its features. “What?”
“How many times did I just tap your cheek with my finger?”
“What,” a shaky chuckle escapes his throat. “I don’t-”
“I just did it again,” he states simply, ignoring Mikey’s body’s voice completely. “You’re dissociating, otōto . I need you to come back to me, okay?”
“Leo-”
“Hey, trauma buddies remember? I’ll help you. Just like what Dr. Bleaker taught you. Tell me five things you can see.”
Mikey focuses. It’s hard, so hard to use his eyes and see when everything’s so far. But he’s gotta try. He tells his eyes to move and he likes to think they listened to him.
“You” he finally manages, “Raph, Donnie, the couch, and Raph’s magazine.”
“Good. Now four things you can hear.”
Down the line they go. With each answer, Mikey begins to slide back into place. Into himself. The blurriness fades, the muffling of the world becomes clear, and the gray switches back into colors.
He can see his brothers. He can hear the pinball machine. He can smell popcorn. He can feel the sting of his hands. Then a tidal wave of terror crashes into him.
He almost topples to the ground, but Leo’s there to catch him. His lungs can barely catch air. Adrenaline and exhaustion both fight each other in his body. That doesn’t matter. None of it matters. All that matters is their safety. He needs to warn them.
“They’re here, Leo. We need to-”
“Shh. It’s just us, otōto . They’re not here, and we’re never gonna let them take you away from us again.”
“I heard them, Leo. You have to believe me- ” he cries.
“I do. I believe you, but it’s only a memory. Remember, Mike, what’s really here.”
“You got this, little bro,” Raph encourages, meeting his side with Donnie in tow.
“Try and focus on the here and now.”
His rush of adrenaline falters as he looks at his brothers. They wouldn’t lie about this…they wouldn’t.
His breathing slows to match their pace. The tension in him that was ready to snap releases. All at once, every piece of him becomes absolutely exhausted.
His head tilts. Leo’s quick to catch him and hold him to his chest. Donnie places a comforting hand on his thigh, and Raph rubs circles into his back. They’re here with him. They’re safe.
“How’d you know?”
Leo pauses in thought before speaking, “your eyes. Felt like I was looking at a mirror instead of you.”
Mikey nuzzles himself further into his chest, shame flushing his cheeks. “I hate this.”
“Yeah, healing fucking sucks,” Raph sighs understandingly.
Donnie moves his thumb in a comforting gesture, but he stays silent.