Work Text:
“What about when Bradford had him?”
“The foot clan hadn’t aligned with the Kraang yet.”
“When we first met Leatherhead?”
“Not a long enough time. Besides, it’s pretty hard to hide a freshly impaled thigh when we’re all together like that.”
Raph kicks the couch in frustration. Leo feels like doing the same.
After having his talk with Donnie, Leo entered the living area with his brother in the middle of an array of destruction, curled up sobbing in their father’s arms. The arcade machine, the couch, the punching bag…everything was in a state of disarray. Leo remained silent, willing himself to not break down any further than he already had. Slowly as to not disturb the pair, he went around the room and began to put everything back in its place. He needed to fix something, needed to do something to keep from spiraling. The second his mind was left alone, all that would greet him was a whirlwind of questions.
How could they not know? How could he not know? Why didn’t Mikey tell him? Scratch that, he should’ve realized. What kind of leader…what kind of older brother could let that happen to his baby brother? To Mikey ? Lovable, kind, light-hearted Mikey?
And that just led to him overthinking and overanalyzing any and all interactions he had with the youngest. Searching for signs and clues, searching for the moment he lost him.
At a certain point, Raph had gotten up to help him clean. Splinter told the pair that he would be the one to speak to Mikey when he wakes up, and had since left to be by his bedside. The two begrudgingly agreed, knowing that they were both too emotionally compromised to be an anchor for their brother. They worked in silence. Eventually, the room was in a much better state before Raph voiced the question that Leo’s been forcing down in his mind.
“How did this happen?”
Since then, the only thing that’s keeping the pair sane is trying to figure out the how and when.
“Okay,” Leo sighs, “he mentioned specifically that we were on our way. This had to have happened when we weren’t with him.”
“But that’s impossible!” Raph exclaims. “We train together, we patrol together, all of our missions have been together. When has Mikey ever been left by himself with those tentacled freaks?”
“I think I know.”
The two turn around to their genius brother. Donnie trudges into the living area like a zombie. His eyebags have never been more pronounced, and the fatigue he’s feeling is clearly weighing his body down. In his arms are a clipboard, his laptop, and a familiar handheld device. He lays it all out on the floor before crisscrossing down, opening his laptop and plugging in the silver Kraang symboled device.
“I’ve done the calculations and ran a few simulations just to be sure.This-” he gestures to the Kraang electronic, “-is the portal device we all went through when we went to rescue Leatherhead. The device keeps a log of when it’s used and how many subjects went in, so I’ve been able to tell exactly when we used it. From the time it took since we got the transmission to the time we went into the portal I’ve been able to estimate was about 24 minutes. And as we know, for Leatherhead, he aged 12 years. So every second here is at the very least 5 times faster in Dimension X.”
Leo feels his breathing stop as he pieces together what Don’s about to say.
“Okay, well what’s that got to do with anything?”
Leo’s blood turns to ice. “We didn’t go in with Mikey.”
He can see the exact moment Raph registers his words. His pupils shrink and his mouth hangs open in shock. Don and Leo hold their breaths, waiting for the explosion. He’s still facing the eldest when he addresses Don.
“How long?” Raph asks, voice low and cold.
“Raph-”
“ How long?! ” he roars,head whipping around to face the tallest.
“48 seconds for us. 2 years for Mikey,” Donnie mutters dejectedly.
A labored gasp escapes his lips. Leo’s legs become jelly. He has to stagger onto the couch to keep himself from hitting the floor. His stomach turns nauseous, and he can vaguely feel his hands shaking.
Mikey. His baby brother, his otōto alone on a hellscape for two years.
He curses himself. How had he not figured this out sooner? The things Mikey knew, how sound worked, what creatures were safe, what creatures were food …that’s not something you simply pick up on. That takes weeks, months, years of trial and error. Shell, it was so fucking obvious.
How did-
“How did he survive?”
Donnie rubs a hand down his face, “he barely did.”
A sob heaves its way out of his throat before covering it with his hand. Somehow, he hasn’t run out tears as more make their way down his cheeks. He can feel Shredder’s shadow looming over him which only causes him to curl up even further into himself.
Not now please go away I can’t deal with this-
A harsh and choked breath snaps him out of his thoughts.
Raph’s visibly seething. He’s going through the breathing exercise he learned from his therapist, but it's clearly not helping him. Slowly, and with what’s probably some of the last semblance of control he has, he reaches into his belt. Trembling hands pull out his sais and two shurikens and wordlessly reaches over to the now standing Donnie. The genius takes them cautiously.
“Raph?”
He holds up a hand and closes his eyes, whispering to himself in between each pant. Leo can just barely make out what he’s saying.
“You need to be there for Mikey. This is about Mikey. Calm down, you need to calm down. If you want to be there for him, you need to calm down.”
Leo and Don share a glance before Raph slowly lowers himself to the ground. Despite his attempts, his breathing is still erratic and his body’s stiff and trembling with rage. Leo inches himself closer to him.
“Can I touch you?”
Jerkily, he nods.
Leo slowly reaches over and pulls Raph into his arms. He brings his head into his shoulder. Donnie reaches over as well to rub comforting circles on the back of their brother’s shell. Slowly but surely, Raph’s tense form begins to unwind, and his fury is replaced by sobs of his own. His hotheaded, overprotective brother practically crumbles in his arms. Whispering quiet reassurances, the leader forces his tears back up.
He can’t fall apart on them now. Raph’s barely able to control himself. Donnie’s tired apathy may seem to others like he doesn’t care, but Leo knows he only gets like this when he’s five seconds away from crashing. And Mikey…
His otōto…
With a harsh resolve, Leo buries his sorrows. They need him. They need their older brother, their leader.
“A true leader would’ve realized when their followers have been broken,” Shredder snarls at him.
Gentle steps get their attention. The trio practically shoots up with energy they barely had to race towards their father.
“Is he awake?”
“How’s he doing?”
“He said anything yet?”
Sensei raises his hand to silence the trio. “He is still deep in slumber. I’ve merely stepped out to grab a snack for him when he awakens.”
Their shoulders collectively sag with exhaustion. The burst of worried energy they felt practically drains out of them. Noticing this, Splinter pulls his sons into his arms without a fight.
“I know you all are worried for your brother, but remember what we agreed on, my sons.”
Leo set his jaw in a spark of anger. This is a delicate territory, one that no one is prepared for. Because of that, everyone had agreed that, for the time being, Splinter would be the only one to talk with Mikey in order to prevent any more damage to their brother.
“This is clearly something he did not want us to know about,” he had said. “If all of us are surrounding him, I fear he will only retreat further within himself. That is why it is best if I do this alone.”
It makes sense, he knows it makes sense, but…Leo just wants to see his baby brother.
Their father pulls away and gives them a look filled with care and understanding. He moves to head to the kitchen, leaving the brothers feeling like they’re miles away from Mikey. With a huff, Leo moves to return to the couch when a scream filled with pure fear suddenly erupts from Donnie’s lab.
***
Mikey wakes slowly. It’s a huge difference from his usual routine of practically jumping awake. That’s his first clue something’s off. Bright lights hit his eyelids, and there’s a distinct smell of disinfectant in the air. That’s the second clue. Eyes still closed, he tries to grasp at his memories to figure out when he went up for bed. Drifting days are always unreliable when it comes to remembering things. He had eggs for breakfast, sparred Raph, stayed in the lab with Donnie-
The Kraang.
Panic floods his being as he springs upright with a scream.
The Kraang were here? He remembers crystals, remembers their drone overhead searching for him, one found him, it’s voice tricking pleading soothing-
It’s all blurry, like the whole thing was covered in silhouettes. Mikey rests his head into his hand as the adrenaline fades. Realization hits him in a shock of lightning.
He had a flashback. In front of his family.
One job, he had one fucking job-
“My son?”
Mikey’s head snaps up to meet the worried expression of his father. He gives him a gentle smile before wordlessly offering him a granola bar. Mikey doesn’t move to take it, stuck in his shellshock, and Splinter puts it to the side.
He sits in the chair next to him and gives him a moment to collect himself, which Mikey appreciates. He uncurls himself from the ball he went into, but still slouches over, not directly facing his dad.
“Michelangelo, I want to apologize.”
Mikey’s brow bone shoots up.
His father, always so stoic and upright, slouches slightly with him as he goes on. “This is clearly something you felt you couldn’t come to us about, and I deeply regret any instance of making you feel as if you cannot confide in your brothers and I.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Playing dumb is something he’s always excelled at.
Splinter lets out a soft exhale before gesturing with his eyes to something on his right. Mikey begrudgingly follows his eyeline and…
Oh.
Shit .
There in front of him, clear as day, is his wrappings, his elbow and knee pads, his mask-
His shaky hand comes up to lightly trace the scar on his temple. His other trembling hand is firmly but gently taken by his father. His thumb runs along his knuckles, smooth over the jagged scars that litter it. Sensei’s free hand moves to cup his son’s face and wipes away the quiet tears that spill out.
They knew. They knew everything. How broken he is…how much he screwed up…how weak he is…
If it was Leo in that hellscape, he would’ve sneaked into a Kraang base and gotten out within the hour, no scars to show for it. Donnie would’ve built a portal back with a box of scraps and been raving about interdimensional travel all before dinner. Raph would’ve beaten up anything on sight and gotten out in a blaze of glory.
Mikey…Mikey failed. He couldn’t get out. He couldn’t be a true ninja like Leo. He couldn’t be a genius like Donnie. He couldn’t be a warrior like Raph. He’s just Mikey. Stupid, useless, weak Michelangelo. And each scar on his body is proof of that.
He’s so tired. Tired of constantly looking over his shoulder, tired of jolting awake in a cold sweat, tired of the phantom pains from excruciating burns and white hot electricity, tired of constantly having one foot in New York and one in Dimension X.
He’s sobbing now. His father has joined him up on the medical bench, encasing him like a protective blanket, and whispering reassurances into his ear. Mikey hugs him back out of pure desperation.
A choked “dad?” leaves his lips in between sobs.
“Shh, I’m here, son. I’m here.” His arms cradle the back of his neck as Mikey releases the tidal wave of emotions onto his dad’s shoulder.
***
Tenderly, Splinter tucks Mikey’s blanket underneath his chin. He strokes away the last remnant of tears from his son’s face as sadness stabs heart. He grants himself a few moments of watching his son’s chest rise and fall.
With a careful breath, Splinter composes himself as he gingerly steps out of the lab.
Unsurprisingly, Leonardo, Donatello, and Raphael have yet to leave the living room, needing to stay as close as possible to the youngest. Their heads rise up and they hurriedly stumble their way towards him. Rather than hound him with questions like last time, they wait with baited breath for him to speak.
“Michelangelo is emotionally exhausted. He’s clearly been through unspeakable things, but I believe we’ve made the first step towards healing.”
His sons let out a collective sigh of relief. Sprinter studies each of his sons and can see clear as day the amount of anguish held within them. Raphael’s is the most obvious. He’s always seen himself as the protector of his brothers, especially Michelangelo. Being unable to do which he prides himself for…Splinter understands the pain of failing to protect the ones you love. Donatello holds a mask of emotionlessness above his features. Ever since he was little, the tallest has had a habit of shutting down when mentally distressed. While left alone with him in his lab, Donatello barely held pause as he worked tirelessly to find a cause for Mikey’s pain. Leonardo is clearly putting an effort to be a rock for his brothers, but he can’t hide the pain from his eyes. He always puts on a brave face for the others. Always never let himself feel .
But there’s something else in the air. A shared uncertainty between his sons.
“Sensei,” Leonardo says dejectedly.
“Yes, Leonardo.”
He eyes both his brothers before beginning, “we think we know what happened.”
Splinter knew that his sons would scour every inch of their lives to reveal what had happened to their little brother. And with Donatello’s intelligence, he knew it wouldn't be long until they figured out the truth. That being said, this matter goes far beyond any of them. It’s not simply Michelangelo not confiding in him or his brothers. He deliberately hid every aspect of his trauma. The scars, the nightmares, the flashbacks. Splinter saw his face when he looked at his removed bandages. He saw the fear, the shame, and the brokenness . Michelangelo was aware of his reactions to the trauma he faced the entire time. And yet, he made the decision not to tell his family.
“Michelangelo will tell us when he’s ready. Our need for answers does not outweigh his need for comfort.”
“But-” Raph interjects.
He raises his hand. “Michelangelo did not want us to know what had happened to him. We will still respect his wish until he’s healed enough to face the trauma he endured. As we discussed prior, it is best we approach this with care and patience.”
“Hai, Sensei,” his sons say dispiritedly.
But is that enough? Is he capable of helping his son?
Splinter’s brows furrow in thought. An idea forms as he turns to study his redbanded son.
“Raphael.” His son’s head rises to meet his gaze. “I fear that we are not properly equipped to help your brother the way he needs to be. That being said, your therapist. Do you think it is possible to have her come to Michelangelo?”