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It takes time, but Leo does come around. He never meant to offend or insult his brother - that much he remains adamant about - but he acknowledges that he did.
After a deep session of meditation in the early parts of the evening, he realizes the need to actually, truly apologize to his brother. He knows his confusion comes across as a pointed accusation without his meaning to and he knows that his stubbornness rears its head at the worst of times.
He’s always had a tendency to think in black in white. There are no moral gray areas, only right and wrong. People don’t try to do things, they either do or they don’t. It’s an over simplistic, naive method of thought and he knows that it’s inaccurate, but he prefers to think that way. Captain Ryan, although Leo can now admit that the Captain himself is amoral, thinks and acts in absolutes. It’s all he’s ever wanted to be as sure of a leader as him - even if he could never stomach the ruthless sacrifice of others that he was so fond of.
Still.
Captain Ryan rules with an iron fist and absolute confidence (he can almost hear his brothers quoting, “Only a Sith deals in absolutes”). But he likes things to be simple.
Raph is strong and a ferocious fighter, quick to anger and slow to forgive. Donnie is smart, almost impossibly quick-witted, and a tenacious worker, but overly cautious in a fight. Mikey is supposed to be - and for a long time was - carefree. Flexible in a fight and good at keeping up morale, but overall too flighty, too unconcerned, and with an unfortunate tendency towards laziness.
Leo forgets he’s not the only one who goes through changes. His voice may have deepened and he definitely didn’t come out of the coma unphased - it reasons that the same would be true with his brothers, but he’d never had a reason to think deeply on it.
Even after the whole memory incident, he had a hard time conceptualizing it. Mikey had been through something deeply traumatic and now that he wasn’t working so hard on hiding, Leo could see the differences. Mikey used to be the most energetic of his brothers, predictable in his unpredictability. But the unpredictability was always in the form of harmless pranks, unprompted jokes or questions, and other various ways of goofing off.
Now he gets this intense focus. His face develops this stoniness, a flat expression that sends a shiver down Leo’s back and makes the back of his neck tingle. He isn’t clingy. In fact, there are times where any physical contact makes him snap at the closest person and where his attention used to feel suffocating, Mikey has become a specter during the night.
There isn’t time to apologize now. They’ve been planning a mission for weeks to hopefully fully stop whatever remnants of Kraang forces are still at work.
As usual, planning happens in Donnie’s lab. Raph peers over the plans while Leo explains and Mikey is in his newly chosen spot - sitting on the lab counter, his mandated snack in hand. His expression is serious as he listens and his fingers tap restlessly against his leg.
April is next to Raph, asking questions as he begins to explain the nitty-gritty infiltration strategy (that may or may not be taken from an episode of Space Heroes: To Infinity and Within , a poorly received spin-off of the original show, only eight episodes in length). Her questions are the needed feedback he relishes and he moves the pieces on the gameboard accordingly.
“The main command center is going to be the problem,” he’s explaining, as April asks why she and Casey don’t just go by themselves while he and brothers destroy the supply of Kraang-bots holed up in the connected warehouse. “It doesn’t look like the other ones we’ve seen on Earth and we’re afraid it might be rigged with traps.”
Leo pulls up the blurry photo on his phone, taken during their scout of the building the night before. It’s got three separate stations while the ones they’re used to have one sphere in the middle. They can’t tell which one is the central database or what specific features each display might have.
Mikey leans forward and plucks the phone from his hand, “I’ve seen this before. One of the factories I raided in Dimension X had this. It’s set up so there have to be three different people using the thingies. If one person tries it sets off this alarm.” He places the phone down on the game piece and moves his piece (an orange building block with a smiley face written in sharpie) from its previous place as look-out to the center room, along with April and Donnie’s.
Leo resists the familiar urge to ignore Mikey’s suggestion and focus on his original plan. Even though he hasn’t apologized, that doesn’t mean he can’t change his behavior. Everyone else seems to be watching him too.
Raph’s not taking the trouble to hide his glare. His gaze dares him to disregard Mikey’s suggestion and the stubborn part of him is tempted to take the challenge, but he shoves that part down. Donnie isn’t watching Leo, but he’s completely given his attention to the board instead of splitting it between planning and making minor repairs on some of their equipment. April nods her head while Casey whispers something in Raph’s ear.
“Well,” Leo says into the silence. Mikey’s eyes are the ones he avoids. Lately they’ve been piercing and almost unnerving to look at. He thinks it’s the guilt. “That does mean we’d have to adjust. Why you, April, and D?”
“April’s part Kraang. She’s not gonna set off an alarm like any of us might. And I’ve dealt with one of these before. I know at least a little more about it - and Donnie’s the tech guy,” Mikey explains.
Raph raises his hand, “What do we do ‘bout the look-outs then?”
“That’s easy enough,” Donnie answers, “We split into two groups. Team Look-Out and Team Command. Team Look Out will consist of everyone not needed to work the control system - you, Casey, and Leo - and make sure no Kraang get to Team Command before we’re done with the sabotage.”
“Oh! And we could regroup after we shut down their defenses,” April adds.
Leo nods, moving the pieces on the board accordingly, “In the connecting tunnel between the warehouse and the center room. From there we set the charges and get out.”
It makes sense. It’s easy and simple. It places their best fighters on the outside while the others work on getting into the center room, but doesn’t separate them completely. Raph and Casey can man the northern and east entrances together. The entrances are closer together and Raph and Casey work well as a pair. Their fighting styles are very complementary.
Plus, those tunnels are more narrow. Not made for his katannas to slice easily through the air. It’ll be better for him to man the southern entrance - it’s wider, but closer to the control room. It’s also the one with the straightest path to the warehouse.
“I like it. Efficient and thorough. Donnie, how much time do you need for the repairs?” he asks.
“Give me thirty minutes. Tops.”
“Perfect. We leave at midnight.”
The night is oddly quiet. The ever-present ambiance of New York City feels oddly muted, but Leo chalks it up to the distance from the actual city. They’re in an urban dead zone, warehouses and large construction sites devoid of any human life.
In the dim night, the Kraang’s pink lights stick out. Like blood on pale skin.
He can feel his brothers flanking him. The steady presence of Raph on his right paired with the nervous energy from Donnie to his left. Behind him is the silent buzz of electric energy he associates with Mikey. It feels focused, honed in. He takes a breath, lets his lungs empty completely on the exhale.
Breathes in.
“Let’s move.”
They spring into action as a well oiled machine. Every movement is one the others are aware of, silent and in sync. To his left is April, moving with her special brand of grace. Her presence is louder than his brothers, less adept at being hidden. But next to Casey, she’s practically a shadow.
His boots squeak slightly with every step, but the darkness disguises him well. You can feel him, but you can’t find him. His presence makes the hairs on your neck stand up - or Leo imagines it would. Casey feels like a jump scare waiting to happen. You know it’s there, you can feel the suspense hang in the air, but you don’t know when it’ll strike.
Raph is similar. His movements always release an air of inevitable violence.
They infiltrate the building, dismantling the outer security system with ease and Donnie fiddles with the cameras while they lie in wait.
Eventually, he gives them a thumbs up and they move to the next phase of infiltration.
They filter into the building, ready to take out any Kraang that stumble into them.
Leo takes down a lone drone, his swords slicing cleanly through the metal with a slick swish . The metal clatters to the ground and Donnie quickly raids it for any needed parts.
It goes quickly. Leo finds his place to look out at a fork in the tunnel, plants his feet, and reminds them to carry on the plan. His brothers, Casey, and April melt back into the shadows.
He waits patiently, his comm buzzing in his ear with little updates on the mission.
Raph and Casey start a meaningless fight over the comms until Donnie snaps that hacking into foreign alien tech is actually a little difficult and asks them if they could knock it off.
Leo snorts quietly at the bickering before reminding them that this is a mission , they need to take it seriously.
“Yeah, yeah,” Raph says, “We’re just killin’ time, fearless leader. I’m pretty sure this place is abandoned anyway. That Kraang musta just been left for dead.”
“You don’t know that, Raph.”
There’s no response, which Leo chooses to take as it is instead of getting on his brother’s case. It’s a new thing Splinter recommended he try - picking his battles. That and overall trying to be less rigid. Allowing change to come without fighting it every step of the way seems impossible, but it’s something he knows he needs to learn.
It only takes about ten minutes from Donnie and company to work their way into the mainframe or whatever computer thing that they need to hack. He can hear Mikey give some halted instructions when Donnie gets stuck. His knowledge of Kraang tech may be useful, but it still twists Leo’s stomach to think of his youngest brother alone in Dimension X, embodying the phrase adapt or die .
He vows to make any Kraang they find pay. Retributive justice will be served.
But the Command Team finishes their work without issue. The mission is all going swimmingly and it makes his heart happy that such a thorough plan is being brought to fruition.
Raph and Casey meet the team and all Leo has to do is wait for the rest of his team. Then they set the charges and “get the hell out,” as Raph so eloquently stated.
The group is a bit disjointed when he finally sees them making their way down the hallway. The sharp pink light creates long and oddly shaped shadows. It catches weird planes of their faces and that, combined with the eerie quiet, makes him tense.
Mikey’s tense too. Leo can see it in how he moves. He lacks his usual languid energy. Every movement calculated, an overabundance of energy being carefully funneled.
They don’t wait to move into the warehouse. Donnie quickly dismantles the lock and the wide black doors slide up with a hiss.
The room inside is dark and the only light streams in from thin windows near the ceiling. There’s hundreds of drones. All without power, simply lifeless metal bodies standing in perfect rows, each with a gun in hand. Some, Leo notices, have a cavity in the stomach, meaning they are intended to be piloted.
Raph brushes past him, bomb in hand, and slides effortlessly between the drones. Casey, who had somehow wheedled his way into getting to set the other charge, followed suit, but his movements lacked the effortless grace that Raph’s had.
While they wait, Donnie retrieves a small handheld device from his bag, which according to his rambling, would respond as soon as both of the charges were set.
Within a minute or so, one light pops up on the small screen.
Leo opts to watch his group instead of the drones while they wait. The dead metalic eyes are unsettling, especially without any power. Besides, he can see Mikey staring at them out of the corner of his eye.
He can relax a bit. April moves next to him and he idly asks her about a government assignment she’d been stressing over before. She explains the project in great, painful detail and the dramatics are enough to draw his youngest brother’s attention.
“Hey, D,” Casey says through their comms, “Where exactly do you want me to plant this?”
Donnie exhales and mutters something unkind under his breath. Luckily the comm doesn’t pick it up, because Raph only speaks up to say that he knew Casey wasn’t paying attention.
“The charge should be planted on the opposite side of the room. I know where Raph’s is, but not where you are. Can you find him?”
Sensing Donnie’s rising irritation and the lengthy process that is problem solving with Casey Jones, Leo leans back and attempts to remain unbothered by the disruption. Really, the mission was going so well something had to go wrong. Nothing is ever perfect.
April begins talking again and Mikey chimes every now and then to ask a question. It’s so inane that Leo almost imagines them back at the Lair, but the glare of pink and silver from the hallway forces him away from that image.
Just as Donnie and Casey begin to reach an understanding, a loud clang echoes through the air. Lights, bright and neon, flash on and a collective mechanic beep sounds.
Leo flips back towards the drone army. Their eyes flash and suddenly they’re moving, aiming their blasters and firing wild shots in every direction. He dives to the side, catching April by the arm and dragging her with him as a laser burns the spot she’d been standing before.
He catches Donnie’s eye from where he’s hunkered down and gives him a nod.
“You finish telling Casey where to go,” he calls, drawing his sword, “I’ll keep the fire off of you.”
He doesn’t wait for Donnie to agree. Lunging into battle is almost as natural as breathing and he falls easily into the rhythm. His sword slices cleaning through the torso of the first row of drones and he flips back to avoid the onslaught of laser fire from the row behind.
Mikey is a blur in the corner of his eye. His kusarigama soars through the air and connects cleanly in the side of a Kraang droid. He yanks and the droids topple into each other.
A blast catches him in the side and singes the outer edge of his shell. He returns the favor viciously, but the sheer number rapidly becomes overwhelming. For every drone he downs, another five fill its place.
Donnie’s voice shouts through the chaos, “They’re in trouble!”
Leo grits his teeth, “So are we! They need to handle it.”
Mikey springs into view, clearing out a whole hoard of drones with a well timed yank on the chain of his kusarigama. He doesn’t say a word as he vaults over the growing pile of machine bodies and takes the handheld screen from Donnie’s hands.
He looks up and meets Leo’s eyes, “I’ll set it.”
Not a good idea. Everything in him is screaming to reject this, but Mikey moves through chaos like a knife through butter. He’s best at getting out of tight spots and evasive maneuvers. But, his brain screams, it’s Mikey !
“Don’t mess up.” It’s a compromise.
He imagines his father’s face if this goes poorly. He can hear the words like phantom whispers and almost buckles. This is the burden.
Raph and Casey are in trouble, Donnie can’t help them, and they’re about to be overrun. Mikey is the best at getting out of tight situations and can fight with startling brutality. Think logistically. Splinter would say leaders have to have to make the tough decisions, the close calls, and they have to deal with the consequences.
That’s the burden. This is the decision.
“ Mikey, do it. Don’t mess up,” he orders.
Mikey’s face goes blank, but he nods and disappears off into the fray. Leo knows he did it again. Undermined Mikey’s autonomy and maturity by not expressing confidence in something he knows he should be able to do. Trust is difficult to extend and easy to lose.
Some of it is lost between them as his youngest - maybe oldest now, technically? - brother glides between droids.
“Mikey, we need to close the drones in the room,” Donnie almost yells into the comm, “We need to shut the door.”
Only the sound of metal on metal and laser fire answers them for a few seconds. Leo’s heartbeat jacks up. He just sent his little brother out to die. Mikey’s a good fighter, but he can’t destroy a whole army of drones.
He’s dead.
Leo killed him. A modern day Cain.
The comms spark to life.
“Window,” Mikey pants, “You guys get out.”
In a desperate attempt to drive back the droids, Leo sweeps his katannas out in a wide arc. The pile grows.
Donnie’s face is creased with panic. He can’t make that decision.
He can’t. But Leo must (this is the burden).
Mustering every bit of Captain Ryan confidence that he requires, he gives the order, “Do it.”
Raph appears out of the hoard with Casey’s arm clamped in his hand. The side of Casey’s sweatshirt is darker than the rest and when Leo goes to pull them forward, his hands come away slick with blood.
Casey rolls his eyes at his concern, “Barely a scratch, dude. I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
There’s no time to unpack that. April grabs Casey by the back of his shirt and hauls him away while he and Raph hold up the advancing Kraang. Donnie gives the word and they retreat hastily to behind where the door was. Donnie jams his hand into the lock, pulling out a large chunk of tech. The door falls down. Newly severed droid arms spark and jerk.
“It’s set,” Mikey says.
“The door’s closed and we’re leaving. Meet us on the rooftop,” Leo says. His voice doesn’t waver like he was afraid it would. His heart feels tight and absent at the same time. It’s like his body can’t decide if the ache is from his heart being too large or the cavity where it should be.
Please, he prays, please get out alive.
The roof access opens without issue and the group races towards the warehouse. April tends to Casey, ripping off a portion of her sweatshirt to put pressure on the partially cauterized laser wound in his side.
“I’m tellin’ you,” he argues, “it’s not even bad! It’s hardly hurting!”
Raph moves from where he’s crouched on the roof to stop Casey from struggling. “Jones, you idiot, that’s not good!”
Glass shatters to their left and Mikey bodily pulls himself through the small gap. Even from far away, he can see the blackened marks of lasers and the way blood drips sluggishly down from a gash above his eye. His chest takes on a new ache, but Mikey himself doesn’t appear shaken.
With glass sticking out of his forearm, blood dripping down his face, and fresh burn marks on his shell, he looks almost at ease. The surplus energy has been dispensed. At least some of it has.
Leo can’t stop himself from running forward and wrapping his arms around his brother. Mikey squirms and peels himself away, but he lets himself be looked over. He only turns his head away when he tries to wipe away the blood and carefully detaches Leo’s hand from his shoulder.
“You guys don’t have to worry, I’m fine!” he assures. His voice is the same as it’s always been, if maybe a smidge deeper, flippant and light.
Donnie grabs the tails of both their bandanas to get them moving, “For now maybe, but if we continue to waste time on this roof, we will not be!”
Raph throws Casey over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and takes a running start towards the edge of the roof. They follow suit.
Leaping over rails and exposed pipes like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Leo pushes off the edge of the warehouse roof, feeling his stomach jump as he crests through the air, and tumbles onto the edge of the neighboring building. His brothers all move in a similar fashion, each with their own unique movements. He slides under an overhanging billboard, the rings of metal and neon lights flashing before him and comes out the other side with a loud, triumphant yell building.
The boom in the background shakes the building beneath him.
Donnie’s movements are jerky as he swings from a fire escape onto a window ledge. His steps nimble as he zigs and zags across the backlit city skyline. He doesn’t perform unnecessary flips or flaunt his agility even as he performs a series of jumps that would make an olympic gymnast shudder. He’s efficient and calculated. His long limbs pushing him forward in large, galloping strides.
Raph is slower than he would normally be. His jumps are softer and less risky than he usually prefers. He’s careful to keep Casey relatively still, even as he whoops from his back when they reach the peak of a jump. But even now, Raph’s short stature does not keep him from the same gravity defying feats they’re used to. His body is built nearly entirely of thick, corded muscle. He bends the environment to his whims, using clothing lines to slide along and open doors or windows as aids to gain leverage.
Mikey performs when they scale the skyline. Even now. He flips as many times as he wants, his grace and flexibility shining as he contorts his body through a series of hand springs. He vaults off of billboards and chimneys, turning in the air and landing already in preparation for another stunt. It’s easy to miss in other circumstances, but there’s an inert grace in all of his movements. His sense of balance serves him well as he sprints across thin power lines and unstable railings or ridges.
Leo releases another shout as he vaults off of an electrical power box, landing beside Donnie as they approach the Lair.
They enter through a sewer tunnel and fall into line. The atmosphere is a mixture of relieved and worried as Raph carries Casey with a rare amount of tenderness. It makes sense - Raph and Casey have always gotten along and lately it seems they’re closer than ever. Casey still remains unconcerned about his wound, although, as Leo watches the interaction, he realizes it may be more for Raph’s benefit than it is the actual truth.
Regardless, their return to the Lair is met by Splinter scolding them for making the news. The explosion is on all the major networks. But, he thinks, there really wasn’t a way to avoid that.
Raph takes Casey to Donnie’s lab and Donnie is quick to disinfect and stitch up the charred and sluggishly bleeding skin. He reassures Raph that it really does look to be relatively harmless. Beyond the pain of the shot and the basic wound itself, there doesn’t appear to be anything wrong.
With Casey in the clear, Leo breathes a sigh of relief and goes to sit down as Donnie turns his attention toward Mikey. Mikey, who is already sloppily patching himself up with what meager supplies he gathered for his own first aid kit.
He swears he can see Donnie’s blood pressure rise.
It’s as Donnie rubs his forehead at the coming headache that April sits up beside him. He can see in her face that she too is looking forward to the show that is Mikey and Donnie at odds with each other. It doesn’t truly happen often, as Donnie has an insane amount of patience for their brother and Mikey appears to function as a sort of rubber ducky for Donnie to bounce ideas off of, but it does occasionally happen. It’s been happening more and more after the Dimension X incident.
They watch as Donnie painstakingly explains the need to disinfect the cuts and to get actual medical treatment while Mikey ignores him entirely.
“Relax, D,” he says, “I’ve done this before and I’m still alive.”
He says it so nonchalantly that everybody almost lets it go, but the words are heavy when they sink in. Donnie looks pained at the revelation.
He sucks in a breath, “Just because you had to do it when you were alone doesn’t mean you have to do it now.”
“I know. But you’re making a fuss over nothing.”
“Not nothing,” Donnie chides, “Your health and wellbeing are not ‘nothing.’”
Mikey rolls his eyes even as his shoulders hike up in defensiveness, “I know that.”
The argument continues until finally they reach a compromise. Donnie patches up and looks over his shell and legs, while Mikey treats his face and arms under his supervision. It takes longer than just letting Donnie handle it would have, but he figures it must matter to Mikey. That he must hate being physically vulnerable.
He didn’t see the memory. He doesn’t understand some of Mikey’s triggers as immediately as his other brothers do, but he can guess what effect being weak in a lab might have. Kraang facilities always have a distinctly medicinal smell, like bleach. Donnie’s lab is clean. Cleanliness is a matter of pride, but that means it has that very same smell.
He doesn’t know much science, but he knows memory is connected to smell. The Shredder has a very unique smell. On rare nights, he still wakes up from a nightmare and is convinced he can smell him.
Candles are good friends.
Mikey cringes away from some of the care and part of him falls into that habitual annoyance. He has to remind himself that he needs to be more patient.
People change. They have different needs and boundaries. It’s not an insult to listen.
They all eventually relax in the common area, Donnie not included. He grabs some food from the fridge and then disappears into his lab. They’re all too tired to argue with him.
April and Casey excuse themselves, promising to be back tomorrow. In the silence after their departure, the three of them remaining decide to watch one of the old TV shows they’ve stock piled. Leo makes his usual case for Space Heroes and the others must be feeling generous because they only grumble a little before giving in.
Sitting with them, it’s almost like nothing has changed.
Almost.
Even now, after a successful mission, Mikey is not hollering with joy, but remains seated in his designated spot on the couch, an old re-run of Space Heroes filling the quiet.
Part of it is his fault. Mikey seems louder, more at ease around his other brothers.
Leo knows that he and Raph were almost inseparable in the weeks following the memory incident. And even though Mikey and Donnie’s relationship can be strained between brother and therapist, he knows Mikey doesn’t force himself into a box like he does with Leo.
For all the times that Mikey seems listless and foolish, he really does observe. Leo notices it now. If he’s not directly involved, he becomes passive, watching intently but not wanting to join. So, it makes sense he’s noticed how Leo is uncomfortable with change - relies on people following the same patterns and behaviors they always have - and tries to force himself into something predictable.
It makes sense, but even he can see it’s not healthy.
And.
And. This is the part he’s bad at.
And. He knows it’s his fault, that his reactions were hurtful and this rift between him and his brother exists because of him and him alone.
He needs to talk with Mikey. Not in the short, stilted way that’s slowly becoming normal, but without the barrier of his stubbornness and Mikey’s drive to fit into whatever people expect of him.
The TV flickers and the bad animation flashes in the low light of the Lair. There would have been a time when Mikey would have shot up from his seat, mimicking the dramatics of the villain and Leo would have responded in turn, copying Captain Ryan as he led his crew to victory.
Now Leo mouths the words under his breath and tries not to let them feel stale in his mouth.
Raph is conked out beside him and Donnie is away in his lab. There would be no one to come in between him and Mikey if he tried to talk now.
He breaks his gaze from the TV and turns to look at his youngest brother.
Mikey immediately notices him staring and meets his gaze evenly. He does not say anything. His eyes are flat. The bandage on his forehead is glaringly white against Mikey’s dull expression.
If they’re going to talk , his gaze seems to whisper, you’re going to have to start.
He wants to. He feels the words budding on his tongue and the nervousness pooling in his chest, pressing his knuckles together to still himself. He has a plan for this. A script. And the time is perfect, all he would have to do is speak.
Captain Ryan laughs on screen and Raph jolts awake.
Mikey breaks his gaze and slips away. Silent.
Raph yawns loudly enough to break up whatever strange atmosphere had begun to cloud him and Leo rolls his eyes as his brother stretches in front of him, deliberately blocking his view of the TV.
“The episode was over anyway,” he says.
Raph stretches an arm over his head, “Don’t know what you’re talking about, fearless.”
Leo scoffs, “It’s late.”
“Yeah, yeah, Splinter already has us on a strict schedule, don’t need you adding a bedtime.”
Raph turns off the TV while Leo straightens up the displaced pillows and blankets (courtesy of April and Casey).
“Someone has to. A ninja can only perform their best with proper rest.”
“Jesus, it’s like you’re a recorder.”
He ignores the jab, “Night, Raph.”
Raph waves away his words, yawning again, and splits off to enter his room.
He’ll talk to Mikey in the evening.
Evening comes faster than he intends. He wakes up early, the clock on his T-Phone blurrily reading out a quarter before five. Even with his usual routine, it’ll be some time before group interaction is mandated.
He gets up anyway. A part of him doesn’t mind the early start. It allows him to think through what he needs to say. Rehearse his apology, because otherwise he’ll forget and he knows his improvising comes off as arrogant and defensive. Plus, it gives him more time in the bathroom to enjoy their limited supply of hot water.
Showers are useful. Like meditation or going through his katas. They’re centering. The repetitive motions let him think fully, through the past battles and through the upcoming interaction.
He leaves the bathroom and elects not to wear his bandana yet. He’s about as relaxed as he gets, going as far as to slip on an oversized sweatshirt to stave off the cool evening air.
There’s a light on in the kitchen and the gentle hum of their electric stove mixed with the dull sounds of someone cooking.
Mikey’s watching the pan on the stove, two eggs prepped and ready beside him. On the counter is a small set up for the whole family’s breakfast, something he must be timing to happen after he has his own.
The old Mikey would have never gotten up so early. The old Mikey would sleep until you physically dragged him from bed, but on the rare occasions where he willingly got up to make breakfast (or dinner? Being nocturnal is weird for meal time terms), he would have music playing and would be making so much noise you would know immediately that he was cooking.
This new Mikey is quieter. Leo knows this, but the silence at an activity that used to bring so much happy noise makes his heart hurt. He doesn’t think it’s because Mikey’s unhappy.
Donnie explained some of this once, after Mikey had finally admitted that he felt smothered by some of their concern.
“I’m not… like depressed, or anything,” he’d said.
Donnie had shaken his head, likely editing the statement in his mind, but didn’t disagree, “He’s not. There are just some behaviors that used to signal he was upset that are just habitual behaviors now and not indicative of any emotional distress. He’s just gotten used to being quiet. It used to be for survival and now it’s just a habit.”
There were other things too. Like Mikey’s sudden reluctance to accept physical affection or his insanely good hearing. Donnie also said something about that. That it’s something they all have to some extent due to their training, but Leo and Mikey have a more intense alertness due to their specific traumas.
His hatred of the Kraang, too.
Leo doesn’t know how he didn’t see it. What used to be a general distaste is something acidic and burning. In Leo’s worst moments, it reminds him of the Shredder’s hatred towards them. He knows enough not to say that.
As it is now, Mikey looks up as he enters the kitchen. He’s also maskless, but the orange cloth is tied loosely around his neck. Judging by the way his hands keep on twitching up towards it, it must be some sort of therapy thing Donnie suggested.
“Good evening,” Leo says. He runs through his lines from the shower. This is important. He’s not gonna be the reason his little brother can’t connect with him. He may not be the best with comfort or apologies, but this is his brother. He’s done more for less.
“Evening,” Mikey returns, “Hungry? I’m gonna start with all of this once the pan’s hot enough.”
“No rush - I just couldn’t sleep. Thought I might as well get a head start.”
Mikey nods, the action making his bandana bounce and he makes an aborted motion to grab at it again.
Olive branch , Leo thinks to himself, you’ve gotta extend an olive branch .
He risks a question, “Can I ask about the bandana?”
Mikey’s back is to him once again and there’s a pause as he rummages through the fridge. He emerges, a stick of butter in hand and slices off a chunk that sizzles and spits as it hits the pan. He lowers the heat.
“Donnie thought it would help with my, you know…” he trails off, tilting the pan as the butter melts.
“The whole neck thing?”
Mikey snorts, “Yeah, that.”
The neck thing. Otherwise known as Mikey will try to decapitate you if you touch his neck. Sparring with him after the whole Dimension X thing resurfaced was a dangerous time.
“He thinks it will help me get used to the feeling of things touching it.”
“But you don’t like it.”
“Ugh, I know D’s probably right, but I hate it!” Mikey groans.
He remembers some old relationship-advice quote. Vulnerability is a two way street. He clears his throat and forces out, “I get it. I used to hate it when people would touch my knee.”
“It just feels wrong.”
“Then don’t do it.”
Mikey blinks at him, “Uh, dude, if you wanna tell Donnie that you think I shouldn’t follow the treatment plan, that is your hill to die on.”
“I didn’t mean that - I just mean that, you know, maybe this is too much to do for like a first step thing. Like,” he tries to figure out how to articulate it, “my knee. When I first started trying to get over my whole aversion thing, I went too big too quickly and it was counterproductive.”
He remembers trying to force himself to not care. He remembers how it only made every touch burn more, every weakness more exacerbated.
“I haven’t had to deal with what you have, but I know enough to know that sometimes Donnie wants to get things done faster than they can be. I know that it’s super tempting to buy into that. But sometimes, sometimes you just need to go slow.”
“Then what would I do?” Mikey asks. He’s not defensive or accusatory. Just curious to hear what Leo might say.
“I don’t know. You could set a timer. Do short periods of time first. Maybe with something a little less collar-like?”
His brother hums, rubbing the bandana’s material between his fingers. He fumbles with the knot, but when it comes undone, he can physically see some stress leave his body. He places the bandana down on the island and tilts the pan. The butter leaves streaks as it melts.
“I just feel-” Mikey starts.
“Like what?”
He looks up. From where Leo’s sitting, he can’t see his expression. “I just feel like sometimes Donnie thinks I’m, like, better. Than I am. Like, he thinks if I just listen to him, then everything will be okay.”
“But it’s not like that.”
“No.” And God, he sounds so sad. He doesn’t know how to help. “He doesn’t like to say stuff like ‘crazy’ or ‘weird,’ but. I don’t know. Maybe I am. Or maybe I’m a different normal.”
“How do you mean?”
“Like if you all lived in Dimension X, you’d get it. It’s not weird to me. It makes sense. But at the same time, I would never want you guys to really understand. Because it would mean you felt and experienced all the same shit I did. And that’s not fair.”
Leo lets this sit. Process. This is unscripted, but he reigns in the natural defensive response. Instead he says, “It’s not fair to you either.”
“No, but life’s not fair.” He pauses again, “I guess I don’t want Donnie to realize some of his stuff is just wrong.”
“I get that. Not completely obviously, but… I get a little.”
Mikey huffs, “It’s enough.”
Leo takes a breath, “Speaking of, you know, being wrong.”
Mikey nods his head to show he’s listening, but otherwise remains focused on the stove, cracking an egg and stirring it as it cooks. He picks up the seasonings they’ve managed to “borrow” from local grocers and gives liberal shakes of everything.
“I wanted to apologize. For how I acted when you first told us about Dimension X. I know it doesn’t make sense and it was wrong of me to say the things I did, but I didn’t mean to invalidate or accuse you. I was hurt that you didn’t tell us, but more than that, I was scared for you,” he exhales, refusing to stop or look up as he speaks, “You’re my little brother and the thought that this happened to you because we just waited a few minutes - it terrified me and I didn’t know how to express it. Of course you take the Kraang seriously. I’m sorry that I implied that you didn’t. I just - I had this idea of what could happen and that something this big and impactful had happened without me even realizing it - and that you’d been dealing with it on your own - it made me angry and scared on your behalf. At the Kraang and at myself. But I didn’t handle my emotions properly and let my own fear cloud my judgment when I should have been focusing on you and what you needed. I’m sorry, Mikey.”
He lets the words sit and forces himself to stand. When Mikey finally turns around, he folds himself at the waist into a low bow.
“I’m sorry,” he says again.
And Mikey has changed. He’s quieter and more intense during missions. He has spots you don’t touch, areas of conversation you steer clear of, and a weirdly cynical sense of humor, but he’s still Mikey. He still makes them breakfast in the evenings and watches shows with them and zones out during training. He still drools over pizza and laughs loudly when he wins at any board game.
He’s changed and grown, the jagged line on the front of his shell the most damning piece of evidence, but he’s still Mikey.
And Mikey is entirely too forgiving for his own good.
It’s as he’s buried in a now-rare Mikey-hug that he realizes this. Mikey had forgiven him the moment the words left his mouth, he just hadn’t been able to shake them.
Leo gently hugs back, rubbing his hand along the back of Mikey’s shell like he used to do when they were kids, feeling the edges and grooves. Mikey’s hold is firm. His wiry, lean arms are deceptively strong.
Usually Leo would be inclined to break up such a dramatic moment, but it’s been so long since Mikey and him had interacted like this. Without those words hanging over them. He’d missed his brother.
The hug lingers until the smell of burnt eggs fills the air and Mikey jumps back to the stove, hurriedly removing the skillet from the heat.
Leo helps him throw away the burnt eggs and apologizes for distracting him (two in one day, Raph would never believe it), but Mikey waves him off once again. He restarts the eggs, careful and attentive this time. He even hums quietly as he flips the omlet.
Once again Leo is reminded that Mikey forgives far too easily. He may have brushed off the words, but Leo’s not such an easy critic. He has a new standard to hold himself to.
Mikey asks him to start the coffee, pointing haphazardly with a spatula. He obliges.
Breakfast comes together quickly. Easily. And later, Mikey responds to his Space Heroes quote with a Ultra-Mega Force one.
He can’t help but conclude with an equally nerdy sentence: balance is restored.