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Chapter Text

Donnie had no time to react before he was being rescued by Leo and Splinter. One moment he had a battle hardened April comforting him by keeping her distance and his brothers strewn on the floor behind them. Then the next he was somewhere unfamiliar with Mikey and Raph while Splinter was caught in a vicious fight. There wasn’t any time to think. Only act. 

It was a relief when the Time Master sent them home. 

They all stumbled as they were placed in their sewer home again; at the exact same second they all went missing. As if nothing had happened. Their home stood firmly around them. Of course it did, nothing was wrong. The smell of burning from Leo’s candles was still fresh in the air. 

Donnie could only stare at it all. 

His brothers as he knew them were with him. Smiling and already making quips about how good it felt to be home. They were chipper considering what they had all been through. 

Their tv was playing adverts for car insurance to itself. They must’ve left it playing when they got attacked. 

It was funny. Donnie hadn’t actually spent much time in the destroyed Lair of that world. Mikey had found him and they never returned to the place. He couldn’t have been there for longer than ten minutes. Yet he stared at his home in amazement. The concrete walls hadn’t slumped into piles of bricks. His lab wasn’t crushed underneath the ceiling. His home was completely undestroyed. 

Everyone else was relieved to be home. He could see that. Mikey let out a whoop as he was still twitchy from the adrenaline rush. Raph uncurled and relaxed against some invisible snow storm only he could feel. Donnie could recognise the emotions running through their smiles and untensing shoulders. 

He should feel relieved as well, he told himself. The nightmare was over and he was back home where he belonged. Happy ending. 

Studying their home and also his youthful, healthy brothers was too much. His eyes flickered madly between both sights. He couldn’t stop staring at them both. His brain was quickly overloading from everything to compare. 

With the same intensity he studied with, he had to take a step back to figure out what he was feeling. He closed his eyes and focused inwards. Everything felt so distant. Home felt like this oddity to experience rather than finally coming home. His brothers were as much a relief to see and anxiety inducing. The emotion he should be experiencing felt like it was happening to some figure way off in the background. Everything was just a little tilted. 

It took a moment to dissect the roar in his chest. 

His chest was tight. If he hadn’t researched shock as much as he did, he would almost think his eyesight had suddenly gone bad. It felt like his vision was blurring and refusing to process any of what he was seeing- despite the fact he knew that wasn’t the case. He gazed across their home with nothing catching his eye. His hands and fingers tingled in a bad way. 

But he knew this must be shock. He had been through a lot in a short period of time and his body was simply having a hard time releasing that stress. 

He felt painfully empty while also experiencing every emotion known to mankind- he settled on. It was closest to understanding what he was feeling as he was going to get. The emotions rolled through him hollowly. His chest was too tight to breathe. Restless energy fizzled across his skin despite feeling bone deep tired. The adrenaline from the mission he was in the middle of thrummed through his veins. It sent his body twitching and rebelling against standing still. 

Yet he was relaxing. His shoulders were also untensing for the first time in weeks. 

He was home and his brothers were okay. A hollow sentiment that he hoped he would begin to believe. Because he was home. Everyone was safe. 

But it didn’t feel like enough. His brain demanded more evidence. But what more could he need! He was standing in their home with his brothers’ chatter swirling around him. 

“Right, well…” Mikey announced with that special tone of younger brother mischief, “Who wants to play some Mario Party after that?”

It was such a Mikey thing to say. 

Donnie let out a hysterical bark of laughter. Yep, that was definitely his Mikey. Play Mario Party. He might as well have suggested they have Christmas in July. His laughter kept tumbling out and he wasn’t sure if everyone else’s conversation was loud enough to hide his own breakdown. 

Don had spent the last three weeks with a Mikey who would never think of doing such a thing. A Mikey who didn’t play video games and gave him weird looks for trying to talk comic plotlines with. Three weeks spent with a Mikey who didn’t smile and tried to hide his grunts of pain from his arm stump. Three weeks spent in silence as they sat next to each other without a single word to say. 

How badly must he have messed up in that world that he had been missing for decades and his little brother didn’t have a single thing to say to him. 

Donnie’s eyes finally broke free of their mad dash to look at everything. They caught on his brother. This was his little brother. Leaning back and looking all pleased with his silly suggestion. Smugly grinning as Raph playfully tried to grapple him. A bright orange bandana. Two arms he used to wrestle back against Raph. 

If he could control his limbs, then he would’ve wrapped him up tightly in a hug and never let go. 

He would love to play Mario Party.

He slapped Mikey on the shoulder and gave him a grateful glance. It was meant to be a challenge to whoop his butt at Mario Party but he couldn’t summon the emotion. 

Mikey was back. His baby brother was back!

As they all turned towards the tv, exhaustion billowed through at the exact same moment. It was lucky he even remained on his feet. He really shouldn’t go to play games. He really shouldn’t play games with everyone right now. If for no other reason but because he was so going to lose. But he refused. He wanted to make the most of this. He was never going to take Mikey’s playful craziness for granted ever again. 

He wanted to play a fun stupid game with his brothers. 

Mikey led them all to the sofa. Leo and Raph were chatting between each other as they followed. They looked so at ease talking to each other. Especially compared to how the other Raph and Leo talked to each other. Their voices were calm and they both smiled as they shared insights from their separate adventures. 

Donnie was probably staring at them but he wanted to commit the sight to memory. 

Mikey leapt up to set up the GameCube and load up the game. 

It was all so ordinary. 

If Don thought the conversation was vibrant already then it exploded between them all as they sat down. Everyone was excited to talk about where they were sent to, what it was like, how Leo rescued everyone, how Usagi was, if they’ll see Drako again, what they were doing for food. All before the loading screen ever finished. It rattled the air excitedly. 

He instinctively sat in his usual corner and everyone sat in their usual seats. Mikey sitting by the foot of the sofa as he never sat still. Him by the far edge, then Raph and then Leo squashed in on the other edge. 

Donnie was stuck between loving every moment and wanting to clutch his head to make it all stop. His head pounded with a headache that he only just noticed. The soft pillows that cradled him made the throbbing migraine stand out even more. 

He was stuck on the precipice of being overwhelmed. Tantalisingly close to falling off the edge into sheer destruction. The adrenaline thundering through his system was not helping things. He was at home and surrounded by family, he should be enjoying this! Not wincing at how much it all was. 

“Dude, who you wanna be?” Mikey nudged him, his elbow jab felt too much and addictive. 

Donnie startled. He hadn’t realised that he had zoned out. His vision had blurred as he sunk into his mind and he struggled to focus back in. The familiar sight of the living room and tv blurred into background noise. His eyes strained to to focus on the blaring colours of the tv. It really felt like he suddenly needed glasses. 

Everyone else had selected their characters. It was just his cursor hovering. 

Luckily they played so often that he had memorised where Luigi was in the selection. He tapped the right buttons and laid back. Just like everyone’s preferred seat on the sofa, they were always polite enough to let everyone have the favourite characters. 

“Are you okay, Don?” Leo asked, leaning forward so he could see him. 

He was really out of it, he could admit that. Donnie nodded his head and gave a jerky thumbs up as he let out a jaw breaking yawn. He was fine but definitely too tired for actual words. 

Someone snorted right beside him. “Yeah, you sure look good.”

Donnie whacked whoever dared give him sass. Not his fault everyone was rearing to go after such an intense three weeks. 

Maybe they hadn’t been gone for as long as he had. That would explain why they all seemed in good spirits. Well, he should also be in good spirits too but apparently his emotions were broken. Maybe they had gone somewhere they could all sleep peacefully through the night?

This time he noticed the awkward, probing silence before someone could prod him that it was his turn. 

“Don? You don’t have to play if you’re too-”

Donnie interrupted him by finally hitting the dice to decide the turn order. 

As tired as he was, as bone deep as the exhaustion ran, he didn’t want to move away. He was playing Mario Party with his brothers. The thought of going to bed sent a nasty jolt of panic through him. His chest stuttered at the thought. 

No. He wanted to be right here. With his family. 

After he rolled, conversation didn’t quite pick up to the same volumes as before. But it did blossom again. Leo and Raph were already getting competitive because in this world their fights didn’t mean much more than little spats. The cacophony of playful banter and the soundtrack blasting through the tv’s sound systems swallowed them whole. It was the best song Donnie ever heard. Upbeat, loud, frantically happy. 

He was nudged again and he mindlessly hit the buttons. Hopefully the right ones to roll his turn and advance down the board. 

Wait, had they already chosen the board? Usually that debate would last half an hour. 

Oh well. At least they had decided. It never mattered to him (as long as it wasn’t Future Dream), he’d still win all the minigames. 

He was relying more on his hearing than his sight to know that he had just taken his turn. The jaunty sound effects of him landing on a blue space was all he needed to know. 

Did the other brothers remember playing Mario Party together? Did it even matter?

He had a feeling that even if they did remember, it wasn’t enough. Leo and Raph had hated each other despite how perfectly they worked together on the 2v2 minigames. Mikey had refused to talk even if he did remember the times Donnie deliberately let him win. 

More jaunty game sounds played around the room but he didn’t feel any staring so it wasn’t his turn yet. He closed his eyes and tried to steady his emotions. 

Mikey leaned back and rested his chin on his knee. 

The one thing he missed the most- beside his family and the world not being an endless war- was the feeling of being warm. 

He hadn’t realised he hadn’t been warm in weeks until that very moment. Maybe that was why his skin felt so tingly and sensitive. Being cold blooded made him appreciate the feeling even more. The sofa cushioned him in its familiar hug. Raph’s leg and side was squished up against his own. His brother’s warmth slowly seeped into him. He startled as someone threw a blanket over their laps. 

Donnie tugged open his eyes so he could stare at it. Dad stroked a hand over his head so it must’ve been him that gave them the blanket. He expected there to be some pushback as he grabbed the blanket and wrapped himself up. It was big enough for him to do that and everyone still have some blanket but all of them were pretty bad blanket hogs. But the blanket came easily and no one tried to yank it over to their side. 

It was the first blanket that Raph ever knitted. He had been so proud of his first big project that he came bursting into each of their rooms to show it off. It had rightfully earned its place to rest on their sofa. The blanket was made from whatever scrap wool that Raph could find. Which was much more than Donnie thought he’d find. It was actually pretty common- kids clearing out their grandparents' stuff meant bags of the stuff got chucked away. It meant that the blanket was a million different colours from any ball of wool that Raph could get his hands on. Glaring colours that didn’t match yet now all woven into this one blanket. 

It was hideous and Donnie could cry at the sight of it. 

It smelt of home. 

Dad came up behind him and gently tugged the controller out of his slack hands. “How about I take your turn, my son?” His voice soothed over his frazzled nerves. 

Donnie was out before he could reply. Head back and soon snoring away. 

He didn’t see everyone’s fond teasing looks. He especially didn’t see Leo drop off not too long after he did. Nor Mikey and Raph giving up on the game and setting up the perfect turtle pile around their sleeping brothers. 

He also didn’t notice that he hadn’t spoken that entire time. 

It would’ve been too merciful that his sleep was nice and dreamless. 

Though it was hard to call it a dream.

It was like he had woken up and being rescued had been the dream. The tent fabric rustled over the top of him like it always did. 

The encampment was sprawled through an old office building that had survived The Shredder’s ‘renovation’ plans. Not that it had survived unscathed. A bomb must’ve been dropped on the building at some point as there was a gaping scrape across its walls. It meant every floor was exposed to the elements outside. His tent waved and shook from the gust coming in. 

His sleeping mat was awful to sleep on with his shell. The floor was unforgiving concrete with thinly laid, old, trodden carpet. His mat wasn’t thick enough to properly cushion a human let alone a turtle. Donnie was forced to sleep on his stomach which wasn’t how he usually slept. 

Not that he was ever going to complain. Every night it was a blessing that they hadn’t been found. 

It felt so real. It truly felt like being rescued and playing games had been the dream. His back twinged from how he had slept and a deep overwhelming grief in his stomach. Being rescued had been a dream. Oh shell, it had all been a dream. 

Donnie stared up at the tent’s ceiling. 

People were already up and about. 

Conversations fluttered through as they walked past him, one person tripping over his tent’s peg. It was probably the night shift coming to swap over for the day shift people. Donnie could only close his eyes. 

His stomach was tight with hunger and he sucked his stomach in and prevent the embarrassing growl. 

The emotion choked him out. It hurt so much to be here that it tingled through his arms and legs. His skin fizzy with his grief. He didn’t want to get up. He didn’t want to be brushed off by Mikey yet again. Another day of having to see April’s bizarre mix of pity and hope as he wrote out correspondence to their other brothers. 

It had felt so painfully real. Painfully real. Raph’s leg pressed against his own still burned across his thigh. 

There wasn’t time to get upset. The resistance needed him. 

Then he woke up. 

Actually woke up. 

The living room greeted him back with its browned brick walls and the cluster of tvs they had scavenged over the years. Raph’s wool blanket was tightly tucked around his arms. He was laying flat across their sofa so he must’ve slept there all night after Mario Party. Just as he had when he had been rescued, he studied everything like he was seeing it for the first ever time. His tiny cozy living room was suddenly a marvel to behold. 

Their sofa was a rusty red colour with a few odd looking patches from where they had to patch it up. A few weird looking splotches from where they tried washing it clean after saving it from the dump. Donnie traced every mark with his finger. Another part of home he hadn’t realised he had missed. 

No draft from a crater in the ceiling. No flimsy tent resting on a concrete floor. 

He was sweatingly warm. It was intoxicating. The sensation filled his head and dampened his thoughts while he felt dizzier and dizzier. Donnie slid further into the sofa-turned-bed and tried not to feel sick at the overindulgence. The warm embrace of the blanket felt sticky on his skin. 

They didn’t often turn the sofa into a makeshift bed anymore. Usually they would happily smack each other awake to send the tired turtle to their room. Donnie couldn’t exactly remember the last time they did so. They usually only resorted to sleeping on the sofa during really hard days. When they were younger they did it all the time. 

Donnie smiled to himself as he could almost hear a younger Mikey squirming frantically in their turtle pile as they waited for santa to visit. All of them giggling and huddled under an endless nest of blankets and pillows. Tummies filled with hot chocolate as they gossiped about how late they were going to stay up. 

Maybe the other brothers never thought about those memories anymore because the sofa had long been destroyed in their world. They would never have the right stuff to have a turtle pile on the sofa. 

He felt sick. A deep uncomfortable lurch in his gut. But he didn’t groan out loud. He wasn’t going to draw attention to himself like that. 

Suddenly it all burned and Donnie hurried out of the makeshift nest. It was overindulgent. Plus he should probably figure out where everyone else was. 

He didn’t dare leave the room a mess so he quickly folded up the blanket. The wool scraped across his fingertips and burned through his palms. As quickly as he could, he tugged the blanket to be neat enough and then ran out of the room. 

He couldn't find the energy to dissect what that was about.

Don quickly realised that the others were up too. The moment he walked out into the main chamber, he could hear the others chatting away in the kitchen. Judging by how loud they were, he reasonably judged that the entire family was there. Even April and Casey. 

Light spilled into the tunnels leading from the kitchen. Golden light with happy booming conversation erupting. Donnie let himself smile. He was truly back home. The Lair wasn't destroyed and was standing strongly as always. 

Don paused just outside the kitchen. He could imagine Mikey sitting at the table, his cereal turning soggy as he got distracted telling some elaborate story. April laughing along to the story he was spinning. Ooh, or maybe Mikey had done the classic Mikey move of trying to make eggs and ever so slightly breaking the yolks and so scrambling everything again. They would all groan at him making scrambled eggs for the fifth time that week but none of them ever minded. Leo and Raph would share knowing looks to one another as Mikey told each exaggerated lie; debating whether or not to call him out. 

They fought the most out of anyone in the family but Leo and Raph had a special relationship. A unique, quiet spark just between them. Something that hadn’t been lost over time or fizzled out after one fight too many. 

“Don?” 

He startled out of his daydream as Casey stuck his head out of the kitchen. 

“You okay there, pal? Boy, am I glad you lot are okay. That dragon guy sounded like a real piece of work.”

Like it was actually Casey. In his usual tank top and jogging bottoms despite it being November. His hair wet from his shower that morning. April was trying to domesticate him enough to use a hairdryer instead of letting it drip all down his back but it had yet to work. 

Don had no idea whether April ever managed to tame him in that other world. Probably not; April had to cut off all her hair to save on water. Surely Casey had to do the same. 

“Wow, you are tired,” Casey obnoxiously waved a hand in front of his face. “Let’s get some coffee into ya.”

Casey’s hand burned as he touched his shoulder and non-so-gently tugged him into the bright light of the kitchen. 

His whole family was crowded by the table as they ate breakfast. April and Leo were leaning in closely so they could join despite the fact there weren’t enough chairs for them to sit. Dad looked tiny in the chair as he propped up his chin in his hand and listened closely. 

If it wasn’t for Casey pushing him through the doorway, Donnie wasn’t sure he would’ve entered on his own. 

He was struck by the sudden need to capture this memory forever. 

He hadn’t quite twigged that he was still feeling overwhelmed by everything as he was laying on the sofa but he certainly realised it now. The light stung his eyes and the earthquake of happy ‘good mornings’ and ‘there’s the sleeping beauty’ rumbled against him. 

It took so much of his strength to bring his hand up to wave at them all. 

Casey squeezed past him and his warm big hand left him and worked quickly to make him a coffee. His hands easily moved too fast for the human eye to see. Or maybe he was still battling his shock and everything felt distant and blurry. 

“Here ya are Don.”

A cup of scorching molten heat was pressed to his hand. 

“I saved ya some brekkie, Don!” Mikey chirped up, “thought I’d go all out! I’m talking toast, eggs, bacon, we got some OJ, some coffee-”

“Someone shut him up already,” Raph laughed as he passed Donnie’s plate over to him. 

The food was piled on thick to the plate. Rashes after rashes of bacon, four slices of toast all smothered with an obscene amount of butter. It weighed heavily against his wrist. He almost remarked on how much food there was. It would be too greedy to eat all this. Don swallowed nervously. Even the plate felt red hot from the food. 

“Here, Donatello. Take my seat. I was going to go meditate soon anyway,” dad offered, delicately jumping off the chair. 

Donnie would’ve continued his awkward hovering if it wasn’t for his dad’s tail curling around his ankle as he walked past. 

Dad always did that when they were kids, usually to get them to go somewhere. Donnie could remember being half asleep from working at his lab and dad’s tail gently guiding him away from the desk to his bedroom. He had so many memories of being unable to keep his eyes open and completely relying on his tail to guide him to his bed. Just like all the times before, Don blindly followed the tail until he was sat on his dad's chair right in the middle of the bustling table.

“Did we wake you up?” Leo asked, “You could’ve slept in as long as you needed to.”

“Yeah, you were pooped last night,” Mikey piped up. 

“Our apologies for being so loud so early in the morning, my son,” dad said with a pointed look at Mikey and Casey. 

Donnie was just thankful to sit down. He stumbled into the chair and finally set down the boiling plate and cup. 

Unlike yesterday, Donnie recognised this mood well. He was probably experiencing the exact same thing yesterday but was just too tired to realise. Every now and then, when he really pushed himself too hard on a project or mission, he would overwhelm himself to the point of being useless. 

Early mornings when he would finally prise himself away from his desk, it was like his brain switched off. Every command and action took too much power. It clogged up the already overworked system. It lagged everything and his whole body was freeze constantly. Even the easiest of actions would have him faltering. It was a constant battle as his overloaded brain tried to do the right action. 

If he was lucky then it would gradually fade on its own in a couple of hours. He would sit in front of the tv and let his brain totally turn off. A hard system reset. A good sleep would also help reset things. It helped that his brothers were good at noticing when he was overwhelmed and help guide him through it. 

This was the first time when he had woken up in one of these moods. Or maybe it had truly started yesterday, and then in that case, it was the first time one had lasted this long. 

He can’t exactly go back to bed to reset now. 

His entire being glitched and faltered. He had the action of sipping his coffee queued up from Casey, but he was hungry so he should be eating first, but then again it was greedy to eat that much food. But it was also rude to refuse food made for you. Eating required effort. Grabbing his cutlery. Cutting everything into manageable pieces. Then prepare to eat eggs or toast first. His brothers were talking to him. Shell, dad apologised for waking him up when he actually didn’t. He had to respond to that conversation. But which conversation did he respond to first?

He should tell dad that he didn’t wake him up. What even woke him up? Oh right, the nightmare. He wasn’t going to talk about that. He had already forgotten about it so it was fine. 

Donnie was stuck with his hands trembling between grabbing the coffee and his knife and fork. His body caught in the crossfire as his brain fumbled over what to do first. He was probably looking like an idiot. In the back of his head, he winced at how embarrassing the whole ordeal was. 

Thankfully, his brothers had many years of this. 

Leo pushed his coffee into his hand gently. He smiled comfortingly. “Just drink. It’s been a stressful few days. It’s okay if you need some time.”

Don stared as the words took longer to sink in. 

There was no pressure. No warzone waging outside a tiny tent. No civilians who’d gossip behind his back if he took too long in the showers or if his stomach rumbled too loudly. Mikey and his whole family didn’t treat him like a stranger. They all faced each other with smiles as they ate. Donnie didn’t need to direct one of the most dangerous missions yet. All he had to do was eat and drink. 

It was a lot easier to do as told than figure out what needed doing first. The mug was heavy in his grip- a sensation that felt unfamiliar. He took a deep sip from the cup. 

He had only gone three weeks without coffee but with the way the taste flooded his mouth and the warmth curled through him, you would think it had been years. It was strong and bitter and addictive. The steam from the cup brushed over his face and closed his eyes in appreciation. 

He opened his eyes again and flashed Leo a thanks. 

“Gee, find someone who’ll look at you the way Don looks at his coffee,” Casey laughed. 

“Ain’t that what you got April for?” Raph joked back. 

“Ha! More like Case looks at me that way.”

“Aw babe. Not in front of the guys.”

Being surrounded by his familiar home and normal family, Donnie relaxed. It was far better than any daydream he could’ve conjured, despite how overwhelming it felt initially. But, just like the men from Plato’s cave, he adjusted to the sunlight and soaked it all in. He sunk into the stiff kitchen chair and let the conversation wash over him. 

The rest of the day went like that. 

Donnie followed his family around like a lost duckling and none of them batted an eye. It was the first time Donnie had to really sit in that overwhelmed mood as it refused to lift. As the day ticked by, it was clear his family wasn’t sure how to react to it lasting this long. But they all followed Leo’s lead in leaving him be and that helped immensely. 

They gave him space, let him just sit and watch as they went about their days. Mikey was a huge help. He kept an arm constantly slung around his shoulder and pulled him through his day. Watching tv with his running commentary, tormenting Raph by explaining the plotlines of his comics, watching as Mikey cooked everyone meals. He had demanded they spent the day together and it was nice. 

Donnie got to sit there and let his brain fizzle away while his family kept him company. It helped chase the lingering thoughts of his other family. 

Can’t feel grief for your family if you’re surrounded by your family!

He had gone to bed that night grateful for how understanding everyone was. 

But the sensation continued into the next day. 

And the day after that. Then the next day. The day after that. 

He would snap awake from such a vivid nightmare that it felt real. It was always a challenge to drag himself out of bed until the guilt came snapping at his heels. Then his brain would immediately frazzle and glitch at having to be normal. Breakfast was always overwhelming no matter how many people were there or how quiet people were. Conversations drowned him as much as they comforted him. 

Don knew his family was worried but he only understood how worried they were when he saw dad try to subtly pull each of them away to train. After they came back from Drako, it was just understood that they didn’t have to train that day. Then when everyone realised how distant he was, they agreed that he needed to feel better before they started up training. It had almost been a week of not training and clearly the others needed to start back up again. 

It was obvious dad’s plan was to pull each of them away to train them in secret so as not to make him feel pressured. But that backfired. Donnie quickly caught on what he was doing. 

It made Donnie determined to join them in training the next day. 

But he woke up the very next day still prickling from anxiety. His whole being tingled maddeningly as the emotion rippled across his skin. Anxiousness thrummed through his veins like it belonged there. The day was yet another write off. 

On the tenth day, Donnie was finally starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Feeling overwhelmed wasn’t 24/7 anymore. The feeling would still strike at the weirdest times. Sitting around for meals with his family. Though that was maybe because he was still having a hard time adjusting from eating nothing to eating normally. Being alone with one brother was a coin flip between soothing and frustrating. He clung to his brothers like a little baby. 

Sitting with his dad felt like sitting next to the boiling, molten, sun itself. 

Each day, he never said a word. Not that he noticed his lack of speech through the storm rattling through his head. 

Donnie had no way to describe it. It was infuriating beyond belief. Overwhelming but that was a redundant thing to say. It’s overwhelming to feel overwhelmed. Great. His family met all of this with unending patience and worried stares. 

It was easing up though, Don assured himself. He could feel it. Each day it got easier. He started training again and it felt fantastic to fight. 

But it wasn’t perfect. 

He couldn’t spar. 

Exercises, he could do. Katas? Too easy. But he couldn’t spar which was a major part of training. The overwhelmed-anxious feeling would grab him and choke him out slowly before his opponent could even move. 

Everyone would spar together while he did the walk of shame to the punching bag. It was humiliating. 

Even dad’s patient soothing to take his time was irritating. 

After they finished training, he had initially disappeared to the garage to finish a project he was working on for the Turtle Tank. In that future world, presumably, every vehicle of theirs got trashed. So he was working hard to make them as indestructible as possible. Obviously that came with the problem of messing up a vehicle’s crumple zones. It was a problem that had done a great job at ensnaring his constantly racing mind. 

Raph followed him up not too long after. He grunted out a greeting as he walked up to the shell cycle. At this point, Don barely ever touched the thing. Raph took to his motorbike like a turtle to water. He watched videos and read maintenance tips in magazines. Don was pretty sure that he was far more knowledgeable on bikes than he was at this rate. 

He settled on working alongside Raph effortlessly. 

It was after a couple of hours that Raph spoke up. He sounded nervous. “Hey, uh, Don?”

Donnie looked up and that alone seemed to rob Raph of the rest of the sentence. Don gave him a look. 

It made his brother even more nervous. “You, uh… you doing good?”

He wasn’t doing anything dangerous. Quite the opposite, he was measuring the chassis of the Turtle Tank (because he never wrote the blueprints with a scale. An absolute rookie mistake that had him cussing away in his head). After he was done, he was going to sit at his computer and do some research. Nothing dangerous in the slightest. 

He nodded his head. 

Raph nodded along with him by instinct. “Yeah. Yeah, good. Cuz… yeah, you’re right. It’s all good.”

He was probably just worried. Don understood. His moods had never lingered this long and, honestly, it was also freaking him out. But there wasn’t anything to do. Just wait it out and trust that he’ll be okay soon. 

Like today! He was actually doing really good. He had a wobble when they trained but the work was helping to fight through that. He felt good. Normal. No sign of feeling overwhelmed. Donnie was choosing to focus on that. 

He turned back to his work but Raph wasn’t done. 

“Y-you’d tell me if something was up? Like more wrong than what’s been wrong lately. You would. Right?”

It was a ridiculous thing to ask. Of course he would. In their family, it was far more likely that someone would notice something was wrong with him before he did. 

He smiled as he thought that. Completely unaware that he hadn’t spoken a single word since coming home.

Chapter Text

What made Donnie finally realise was Mikey. 

The awkwardness and extreme emotion had obviously worn down his younger brother. Which made sense. While him feeling so overwhelmed had died down, it still lingered. He wasn’t acting right. Donnie was yet to return to normal training, the time spent in his lab felt like a haze. And that had to be exhausting for everyone. His whole family had to change how they reacted and keep a constant eye on him. Mikey had always been the most sensitive when something was wrong, someone was hurt or his family was arguing. 

It was what made the Other Mikey so nauseating to be with. That Mikey hadn’t cared. His brothers argued to the point of abandoning each other and yet he didn’t show any remorse. He shared how their brothers had fallen apart with the casualness of remarking on the weather. Shell, he told that story like he wanted to see it hurt. Even when Donnie was writing his correspondence to get their brothers to come home for the last mission, Mikey never asked to read the letter or their responses. He had been cold as he disregarded his family reuniting. 

Donnie didn’t know how Mikey could have ever done that. 

His Mikey wasn’t like that though. 

It had been another day feeling like he was dangling on the edge of being so overwhelmed that all he could do was curl up and beg for it to stop. An infuriating balance as he peered over the edge of obliteration. Like a stray misclick could send the entire system freezing and crashing. 

Nothing new there. 

He started the day by joining Leo as he was meditating with dad. Before the Drako mess, it wasn’t unusual for him to join their session but it certainly wasn’t super common. Sometimes he would join them if he had stayed up last night figuring out a hitch in his projects. The meditation would help lull the thoughts in his head so it was easy to sleep. He joined them more often since being rescued for the same reason. Meditating had gone a long way to soothe the thunderstorm in his head. It cleared his mind of any queued up tasks ready for the rest of the day. 

After meditating, he had tried to emulate his normal routine before the Ultimate Drako. He went to his lab and did some work. Raph trained right outside the train car lab and Mikey watched tv loud enough to be heard throughout the Lair. Those facts alone made it easier to sit by himself and work. He could disappear into a mad scientist frenzy knowing that these reminders of his family were right outside his door. 

It had been a normal day- as normal as he tried. 

If he had been more observant, he would’ve noticed how Mikey kept a keen eye on the lab all day. How he wandered closer and closer, until he could peer through the door. And then he would skittishly run back to the sofa. He had done that seven times before Raph caught him and whisper yelled ‘what the shell are you doing’. 

Don had been dazedly working too hard to hear Mikey hysterically whisper his answer back to Raph. He hadn’t noticed Raph’s own guilty glance at the lab. 

Raph had ended up warning Mikey not to push things. But Donnie hadn’t heard over the memories of a different timeline and the clicking of his own typing. 

Then they all ate dinner. Dad talked about training in a way that made it obvious he was worrying about how far he was falling behind. Donnie nodding along to what he said. He couldn’t think of how to respond. His inability to train had weighed heavily over him. It made eating his food hard. He wanted to fight! He wanted to train as hard as he could. Dad, after seeing his defeat, tried to soothe it over by saying he could take as much time as needed. Donnie nodded just to appease him. 

Mikey had tried to gasp something out after seeing that exchange but Raph stomped his foot under the table. Donnie frowned at the weird behaviour. Leo was staring at them too, so he didn’t know what was going on either. But neither of them looked up. He tried to raise a non-existent eyebrow in question at Mikey. No way he was going to draw attention to him obviously scheming something. 

But Mikey then looked at him funny. His face twisted with guilt and sadness. Most concerning though was the fear in his eyes as they made eye contact. Mikey flinched away from their standoff and stuffed his mouth full of rice. 

Dinner was really tense. Mikey was silent the entire time and Raph seemed to be monitoring Mikey's every breath. Dad probably picked up on the atmosphere too but he knew better than to insert himself in sibling drama at this point. He trusted them to be able to figure it out on their own… or at least to grab him when he was needed. Meaning Donnie was on his own to decide if he wanted to dissect the situation. 

His stomach rolled at the thought. Maybe not. It wasn’t like this was the first time Mikey and Raph had gotten into a spat. 

After that car crash of a dinner, he excused himself and worked on the submarine until it could dive up to five times deeper than before. Not that any of them ever planned to take it that deep but it meant it was stronger and could withstand attacks better. 

By the time he pulled down his welding mask and finished up, the Lair was silent with the lights switched off for the evening. All of his brothers and family was tucked away in their beds. It was tranquil in a way that was impossible during the day. Donnie breathed in the peace greedily. 

His room would be waiting for him. With all of its jarring nightmares. 

Don stretched out his shoulders from being hunched over the sub. He massaged his temples to rub away the indents the welding mask left. 

There was no use in hiding or procrastinating. He had to rest. His family was already so worried about his every little move. He shouldn’t worry them further by refusing to sleep. 

The thought of going to his bed was exhausting. He didn’t want to. Maybe he should tell his family that he was having problems with his sleep. But then, that would only encourage them to push him to sleep. They would get even more worried. Plus, his ruined sleep was probably making his emotions feel even more fried. 

Stop procrastinating, he chided himself. He stretched and yawned as someone watched him from the corridor. 

He retired to his room defeatedly. It should’ve been a welcoming sight after a hard day. But the day hadn’t been hard! All he did was sit with his family and worked on some projects. He had no right to say the day had been hard. The hardest thing he did was trying to breathe through the constant prickling of his skin and reality itself rubbing him the wrong way. Emotions that were just all in his head. Meaningless. 

But hard day or not… he had yet to reclaim the welcoming safety of his bedroom. He paused at the open room and the figure behind him paused as well. 

The bed was neatly made because he was still waking up with the guilt of even having a bed. It clogged his chest every morning. Before all of this, he would’ve happily left his bed sheets in a tangled mess. The desk was cluttered with projects he hadn’t touched since being rescued. He can’t really remember what they were even for. Blueprints tacked to the walls for projects to solve problems he didn’t think about anymore. It was the bedroom of a different person. He had slept in the room since coming back and the weirdness had yet to leave. 

Don sucked in a breath and ignored the sight. He walked up to his loft bed to get the night over with as soon as possible. 

A knock sounded at his bedroom door. 

He stared bewildered for a moment. Not that he had checked the time before calling it quits but he presumed that it was late in the night. 

When he opened the door, Mikey gave him the twitchiest smile. “Mind if I come in a second? Yeah? Cool. Thanks,” Mikey said without a single pause. Not even pausing to breathe.

Donnie numbly stepped aside as his younger brother waltzed into his room. A shudder rolled through his body. His whole body prickled and fizzled intensely at the unexpected guest. He wasn’t sure he had the energy to deal with another person right now. All his preparations for another intense nightmare had to be thrown aside to entertain Mikey. Surely he should feel happy for the excuse not to sleep. But exhaustion crippled him. His whole being rebelled against it. He couldn't do this either.

But he powered through. He had to. Mikey wanted to talk.

Mikey barely said hello before coming in, walking up his bed’s ladder, and sitting on the edge of his bed. And also untucking his covers and sticking his feet under them to keep warm. 

Mikey should thank pizza that he had younger sibling privileges and could get away with that sort of thing. 

That and Mikey seemed genuinely nervous. He was constantly fidgeting and his lack of rambling meant there was an avalanche of words waiting for him. 

“Can we talk?” Mikey spluttered out. 

Donnie climbed up and sat down next to him on the bed. 

Mikey was chewing his lip and was caught between flashes of eye contact and looking away guiltily. 

The first thought Don had was that he had broken something and he had finally developed a guilty conscience. After 15 long years, his brother was finally feeling guilty for a prank he pulled. That must’ve been what he and Raph were being weird about. Maybe Raph had pushed him into apologising. 

He put on his best disapproving look and waited. Hopefully this wouldn’t last long since he did not have the energy to pull his face in the right directions to keep up the disapproving glare.

Mikey swallowed loudly. “Like can we actually talk?”

Don waited some more with his arms tightly crossed. He was going to make Mikey squirm with whatever he was admitting to. 

Though, admittedly, he struggled to think of anything that Mikey could be confessing to. He had been on his best behaviour. Or at least his best behaviour, when around him. He was also not the kind of turtle to confess to a prank he did on someone else. Donnie strained to think back for anything fishy over the past week but came up blank. If anything, his life had been suspiciously prank free since coming home.

But that was probably because he would be pretty miserable to prank lately. He would’ve just sat there blankly. Shell, maybe he did get pranked and hadn’t even noticed it. 

“Can you talk?” Mikey reworded the exact same request he came in with.

He did not have the energy to deal with this. Don rolled his eyes and gestured for him to continue. 

The brimming anxiety finally overflowed. Mikey lurched up and grabbed his arm. “I mean it, Donatello! Can you talk? Please, just say something!” Mikey pleaded. His eyes huge and watering. 

Donnie’s heart stopped. He turned to face him properly. 

“You haven’t talked since you came back from wherever Drako sent you. I know you’ve been feeling weird and all but it’s freaking me out!”

He hadn’t talked?

“You’ve just been silent! Maybe at first it was because you were totally wigged out and that’s fine but you’re getting better but still not talking! I miss my fellow rambler!” Mikey rambled furiously. Hands flailing all over the place to emphasise his point. 

That couldn’t be right? He had been quiet but not silent. Nothing that dramatic. 

“Please… just say something, anything! Call me an idiot for overthinking this! Just- just… say something. Please.” Mikey seemed to run out of energy too. His words crackling from his emotion. He whispered one last begging ‘please’. 

There’s no way he hadn’t talked this whole time. 

Yet the more he thought…

He didn’t remember saying anything when he had been rescued alongside Mikey and Raph. The relief and emotion had rendered him useless. He had just revelled in being rescued. They had all played Mario Party… surely he had talked during that. He couldn’t remember talking but he was really out of it. Surely he had talked then! 

And it’s not like he had been in a talkative mood since coming back. 

Shame curled through him. He had probably been pretty miserable to hang around with recently. Mikey was literally sitting next to him and begging for a conversation. His baby brother begging for anything. Mikey’s wobbling emotions had him choked up. 

He went to apologise for everything. The words bubbling up on their own. 

But a thunderous crash of anxiety slammed into him. 

His stomach lurched harshly enough that he was worried that he would be literally sick. A cold sweat broke out across his palms and shoulders. It came on so suddenly it was like someone had simply typed in the command to turn on his anxiety. No, quicker than that. Someone pressed the button labelled anxiety in his head. He flinched from the onslaught. It wasn’t just a small nervous worry, like the worry of hanging around dad’s room to tell him he had broken something. This was the anxiety of being stabbed and having to stitch yourself up. The anxiety of a mission going wrong. He hadn’t felt this way since Leo went on a run during a thunderstorm. 

But Mikey was still sitting there. Looking lost and afraid. Donnie tried to power through and say something. Anything. His heart thundered against his plastron, desperate to escape. His mouth flapped uselessly. His body became a cacophony of strange sensations and out of control instincts. He tried to force his voice into his throat. But he was scared to push too hard in case he actually did throw up. The panicked clunky breathing took up too much room in his mouth. 

He was left sitting there. Mikey looking up at him as he pointlessly opened and closed his mouth. 

“Don?” Mikey asked. His worried begging tone disappeared. He sounded genuinely confused and worried. 

Which, go figure! He can’t talk. He can’t talk. Why the shell can’t he talk! He was physically capable of it. He can still feel his voice in the base of his throat. Why the shell won’t he talk. 

“C-can you not talk? Were you hurt?” Mikey grabbed his hands. His hands were sweaty from the sudden nerves so it probably felt really gross. “Oh man! That would explain everything! Aw, Don. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. Here. Leo will know what to do. Wait- no. We’ll got to Splinter. We’ll have you speaking in no time!”

If his body was fighting against speaking before, it was revolting now. His mind whited out from the explosion of emotions that caused. He pulled his hands free. His brother’s warm solid grip felt suffocating. His very presence felt abrasive. Donnie had never ever felt this way before. Out of all his weird moods, every instant he felt his overwhelmed moods, he had never felt this violently wrong. 

He flung out of Mikey’s grip and tried to calm down. Turning away from his brother’s burning presence, he wrangled his body into some form of control. 

He couldn’t speak. Apparently! He couldn’t speak but it was definitely not because he was injured. 

He turned back to his brother and stared dumbly. 

Right, time to convey that to Mikey while not being able to talk. 

He shook his head. 

Mikey stared at him. His non-verbal communication seemed to do absolutely nothing to help comfort him. “N-no? No, let’s not tell Master Splinter you’re hurt?”

He shook his head again, much firmer this time. This was so awkward. How does he begin to convey that he was okay but also he has anxiety so bad it felt like he was currently having a heart attack. He gave Mikey a thumbs up. 

Predictably, Mikey continued staring at him incredulously. But after a moment, he took a breath and eased up. “You’re okay. Like actually okay? Not just saying you’re okay so I don’t worry. You’re okay okay?”

Well, not really. Furthest thing from it actually but he wasn’t about to get semantic. Donnie grabbed his shoulders and made intense eye contact. His heart shuddered at the action but he ignored that. He nodded his head. He promised. 

Mikey nodded too. “Okay. Okay. You’re okay.”

They both pulled away and the uneasy silence swamped them both again. 

If they only had some paper then at least Donnie could write him a message. 

His phone! 

Donnie smacked his head as he realised how dumb he was truly being. This whole time he could’ve written down a message and passed it along. His movements were stiff and uncoordinated as his vision swam. It was so hard to breathe through the panic, let alone climb down the bed’s ladder and back up. 

But how does he even word this? He was too scared to talk? That’s ridiculous. Scared to talk to his own brother? ‘ Hi Mikey. Sorry for not talking much. My heart feels like it’s going to explode if I talk to you ’. That’s the stupidest thing he had ever thought up. But that just left him staring at his phone with an empty message pulled up. 

“I didn’t mean to pressure you or anything,” Mikey interrupted his thoughts. 

Donnie broke free of his staring contest with the blank message. 

“Well, I guess I did. I’m sorry, Don. I didn’t mean to come across like this.” His brother looked awful. Downtrodden and guilty. How late had he planned on staying up just so they could have this talk? If anything, Donnie should be thanking him for making him realise. 

It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay! He wanted to shout. But everything hurt. His chest creaked as it tried to tighten even further. 

“Hey, let’s try to calm down and then maybe… maybe you can, I dunno, show me what’s wrong?” Mikey soothed as he gestured his head at his phone. He was probably expecting a carefully researched presentation about why he wasn’t talking. 

But he wasn’t going to get one! He didn’t even know anything was wrong. He can’t talk. Why the shell won’t his voice work! Oh Shell, he might pass out. 

He startled as Mikey grabbed his hands again. His little brother looked deadly serious. “You need to breathe bro. C’mon, in and out. In and out.” Mikey took exaggerated breaths. As he inhaled, he counted on his fingers to six. Then he held his breath for six. Then out for six. 

It was a method that dad taught them to help manage stress during their harder missions. He had told them stories of watching Yoshi do the same. Donnie had a feeling that he taught them six seconds because they only had six fingers. 

He copied Mikey as best as he could. His breakdown made his lungs jittery. He was gasping for breath beyond his control. A spasm of desperation for air kept him hyperventilating. But he tried to keep calm. Panicking further or getting frustrated would make his breathing worse. Despite how hard it was to stick to the timing, he forced himself to keep going. He counted on his fingers like Mikey did. 

The bed was warm underneath him. Everything was okay. His brother wouldn’t be sitting here breathing with him if something was seriously wrong. 

His heart jolted in protest. He couldn’t talk. That was pretty damn serious. 

But he kept breathing. 

It was a problem, yes. But all problems can be fixed. Being quiet won’t ruin his life. Just keep breathing. 

It took a painfully long time for his breathing to finally bow to his control. Every time his breathing slowed to a normal pace, his heart would suddenly jam into his throat. He would calm down then Mikey would rub along his arm comfortingly and he would spiral yet again. Calm then panicking. Finally slowing down then he was dying all over again. A balancing act he just couldn’t get right. 

At some point he called it. This was as calm as he was going to get. He cleared his throat as if to talk… but didn’t. Because he couldn’t. 

Mikey at least seemed to understand that he was ready to hear conversation again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I’m so sorry, Don.”

Donnie waved his hands dismissively. It really wasn’t his fault. 

He felt the panic gripping his lungs but he refused to shake off the six second rhythm. Physically, he was perfectly capable of talking. It was obviously just some mental block spawned from his uncontrollable emotions. He wanted to say that to Mikey. He wanted to say ‘it’s not your fault’. 

Mikey had no reason to apologise and he was going to say that whether it killed him. 

Maybe if he tried talking again. Maybe now that he was calmer, he would be able to…

Donnie pulled in a deep breath to combat the panic. His tongue twitched like it had forgotten how to function. His voice hummed in anticipation in the base of his throat. But no sound came out. It was a struggle to even open his mouth. His jaw had clamped shut. 

Without the feeling of being sick, he desperately pushed. Push any sound from his throat. His mouth was pried open just enough. Donnie knew he could speak. 

But nothing. There wasn’t anything. It didn’t feel like just some mental block. It truly felt like his inability to talk was lost. 

His earlier balancing act between calm and panic had to be taken to new extremes. He would have to perfect the balance between calm and panic and then also find the balance of finding his actual voice. Like he was a waiter wanting to delicately bring over a tray of plates and drinks. But the tray was balanced so high that it touched the ceiling. The tray was so heavy that he couldn’t begin to lift it. 

Same with trying to completely calm down, Donnie had to give in. 

So he sat there. In silence. With Mikey who was miserable now. Two brothers, one of which had been changed by the stuff he had been through but had absolutely nothing to say to the other. 

Now where did that sound familiar. 

He looked up at Mikey. It was useless but he pleaded in his head for him to magically understand what was happening. 

“Okay. So you’re not hurt?” Mikey confirmed. 

Donnie nodded.

“But… you’re not talking?”

Donnie nodded.

He frowned. “Can you talk?”

Donnie nodded. But then he thought about it. Then he shook his head.

“Weird. Do you think… you don’t think that Drako did something to you? Like a curse or something?” Mikey frowned, clearly disbelieving in his own idea as he said them. 

That was a good point though. The moment he was rescued was the exact moment he stopped talking. But then why could the others still talk? They had all experienced the same thing. 

Donnie remembered his phone. With his anxiety no longer trying to kill him, it was easier to pick it up and type out a direct message. It was awkward to type and have Mikey wait for him to finish. He had never noticed his own typing speed but he was painfully aware of it now. 

I just can’t talk. I know I physically can talk. But I just can’t. Donnie didn’t know what else to say. That was good enough. He turned the phone so Mikey could read it too. 

“If it’s hard for you to talk then that’s okay!” Mikey suddenly brightened up. “We can work on it. But if you need a moment to be quiet then you can take that moment. At least now I know what’s going on.”

Donnie wanted so badly to respond to his wobbling optimism but his voice was lost somewhere in his throat. 

Instead he pulled Mikey into a hug. He poured every emotion he could into it. Pressing his every fear and worry but also his love for Mikey. 

Despite saying it was okay, it was obvious that Mikey still felt wrong footed. He clung to the hug that little bit too desperately for him to believe everything was going to be okay. Donnie hugged him tighter, scared to let go. 

But eventually they did. It didn’t magically fix the whole situation. Both of them were still sitting in a silent room. But it made them both feel better. 

The rush of anxiety hadn’t actually left him. His hands felt pathetically weak and his stomach was twisted into a tight knot. 

Usually when one of them was upset, a turtle pile was called. Even if it was just between two turtles, it still counted as a turtle pile. It was something they probably should’ve grown out of. April always lost it when she walked in on a turtle pile and her cutesy teasing look was a little much. They should’ve stopped the turtle piles a while ago. 

Donnie looked over at Mikey like that was enough to convey that he wanted a turtle pile. 

Mikey awkwardly coughed. “I should go. You’ve been really tired these past few days,” he said while digging his feet further under the covers. 

Donnie sealed Mikey's fate by dragging his brother down so they both slumped down into his bed- into a turtle pile. 

They both shrugged under the covers. Don had been exhausted when he came into the room and he almost expected to feel even more tired after that breakdown. But his hammering heart was glad to remind him that he was still breaking down. He slung an arm around Mikey and pulled him under his chin, surrounding his scared baby brother and protecting him. His hands were trembling and he was worried that Mikey could feel his heart through their hug. 

Mikey snuggled deeply into him. 

“You should tell the others too,” Mikey whispered, keeping his eyes closed as he tried to go to sleep.

Donnie hadn’t considered that. He had been the most oblivious turtle in the world lately. The panic, predictably, slammed into him again. The weight of Mikey and the iron gripped panic crushed his lungs. Childishly, he wanted to ask Mikey if he could tell them for him. But he didn’t have enough of a voice to say even that. 

“Sooner the better. The guys might know what to do better than me.” Mikey snuggled again to find the most comfortable spot and his breathing evened out. 

The anxiety didn’t fade for hours. Every time it died down, Don thought about trying to talk. Even when Mikey was asleep, it caused the anxiety to gut punch him. Even as his little brother’s snores filled the room, he struggled to rediscover his own tiredness. 

Donnie was going to fix this. Whatever it was. Whatever caused this. He would fix this.

Chapter Text

It wasn't a very good sleep after his and Mikey’s chat. 

Mikey had fallen asleep quickly, probably unaware of how bad of a crisis he had inspired in him. Donnie tried to steal his attention back from his own unwarranted breakdown to holding his brother. To focus on literally anything else. He clutched his little brother tightly; focusing on his shell that dug into his arms, his heavy gross breath splayed across his shoulder, the fountain of drool Mikey always let loose when he slept. Two arms clutching him back. But it was never quite enough. 

He had been too restless to go straight to sleep himself. The undeniable fact that he hadn't spoken since coming home haunted him. It robbed him of any drowsiness he could find. For probably the 997th time in his life, Donnie was learning that ignorance was bliss just as he lost that ignorance. 

He replayed every second since he came home. Analysing every memory for a single word. A noise he made. Grumbling at everyone as he tried to play Mario Party. Anything!

Don had to give in though. It was harder to keep his eyes open and the night was getting late. He had to accept that he hadn’t spoken a word since coming home.

But that doesn’t mean he has to accept that he can’t speak at all!

It meant that when he woke up, he was determined to go back to normal. He threw himself out of bed with vigour. Which Mikey probably didn’t appreciate as he was flung across the bed in his enthusiasm. It was fine. Mikey could and had slept through much worse. 

Today would be different. He would be totally normal today. So normal. The most normal and ordinary mutant turtle to ever live. 

Somewhere, at the back of his mind, Donnie knew it was unfair to blame himself for how he responded to the world Ultimate Drako threw him to. Everyone had returned overwhelmed and tired. But the stress and worry he had placed on his family was obvious. Every time he allowed himself to sink into his feelings, his entire family had to adapt around him. He needed to be normal. 

It was all in his head anyway. He was stronger than this. Donnie was going to be normal again. 

He would go into the kitchen. Greet his family good morning. And then continue his day like normal. Shell, maybe he’ll actually do his training. He would prove to Mikey that he was okay. 

As he pulled on his gear and tightened his mask, it occurred to him that he should try talking right now. His hands fell from his mask’s knot and stared uncertainly forward. He should try talking now. 

The anxiety didn’t hit him. If he had been too nervous to talk then surely he should be able to talk when he wasn’t nervous. 

But he didn’t dare. 

What if he couldn’t speak even when he was alone…

That would mean something was seriously wrong. 

It was childish but Don didn’t try to talk. He would talk when everyone else was up anyway. His blind enthusiasm dimmed and Donnie ignored that. 

Despite being home for weeks now, it still felt exciting to walk through the Lair. The journey to the kitchen had him grinning openly. 

None of the lights in their entire home were on and it was silent. No one else was awake, he was sure of it. Even dad and Leo would turn on some quiet music if they woke up early to meditate. So it was just him for now. Perfect. 

The kitchen was its usual cluttered self. Just like how it was yesterday. And the day before. And before that. Mikey tried to keep it clean but that was only because it was the only room that dad would yell at him about. Their dad had long since given up on trying to get Mikey to keep his room tidy. The least he could do was ask for the kitchen to be kept clean. 

But that meant the kitchen was kept ‘Mikey Clean’. 

The cupboards would avalanche with food and precariously stacked cups the moment they were opened. But it meant the worktops would be clear. Everything was wiped down, until you looked at the underside of the cupboards and was met with various dried splatters and food chunks from his cooking. 

It was the room where they all got together and ate, complained about hard missions or took breathers from the nightmares waiting for them in their rooms. But it would always feel like Mikey’s domain. His signature left in every nook and cranny. 

Donnie deliberately steered his mind away. 

He took in the sight heartily. It was the most present he had felt in literal weeks. He wasn’t studying the home dazedly as his brain whispered that none of it was real. Everything was looking pretty normal so far!

He was the first up but he didn’t try to make breakfast for everyone. While he wasn’t explicitly banned from cooking like Leo, he knew his expertise was in mechanics, not cooking. Not to say he couldn’t cook at all. He could make the best blueberry muffins in the whole family. 

But he could run a pot of coffee. 

Back when things were normal, he would be able to press the right button on the coffee machine without looking. He tried this morning and awkwardly pressed two buttons at once in his attempt. So close. He double checked pressing the right button which was normal enough. The machine still beeped as it turned on with a clunky whirr. He swung the coffee pot underneath where the coffee would spill from. 

The Lair was quiet but, instead, it felt quiet in a threatening way. Peaceful but when had his home ever been peaceful with people like Mikey or Raph around. The silence was a presence that loomed over him as he waited. It didn’t part way from the loud dribble of coffee. The whirr of the machine failed to overpower how silent it was. 

He was going to have to break that silence. The huge hulking silence that overpowered their entire home was his latest opponent. 

Donnie kept up his rictus grin. He steadied himself with a deep even breath. Silence was going to be easy to beat. He had defeated the Shredder, more than once depending on how you counted it. Nothing could compete with that. Mikey had made him aware of an issue and that made it easier to overcome. 

He waited until the coffee pot was mostly fill before he poured himself a healthy mug full. The coffee burnt his palm through the cup. Silently, he pulled up a chair, sat down, and prepared to treasure  his morning cup of joe. 

While in that other universe, there had been no time to relax, sit down and drink a cup of coffee. There was always much bigger stuff to focus on. Not to mention their lack of supplies. Each day he had woken up and was instantly on his feet and put to work. The Resistance appreciated having someone who wasn’t exhausted or injured to help out. If there wasn’t some big mission to prepare for then there were always smaller tasks to keep busy with. That was his version of a break while he was there. Planning out missions, repairing their vehicles to ensure they were up to scratch, giving medical aid, preparing food, handing out said food. 

The one and only time he didn’t follow that pattern was his last day in that world. He had woken up. Their plan for confronting the Shredder and the late night he had hung over him. Don had kept his eyes closed. He pretended he was still asleep. He didn’t know how long he pretended to sleep. But it was that extra tiny moment to prepare for the day ahead of him. To wrestle with everything he had seen and all he had heard last night. It had been the only day he thought about coffee. 

It felt weird to be able to do that and not face any consequences. That pretending to sleep in and lazing in bed was normal and not a big deal. The idea that there weren't other people who had to rush around for longer just because he was being lazy was an odd relief. 

No one else was up. Mikey had clearly kept sleeping after he tossed him aside. So he let himself slump on to the table and rested his head in his arms. 

He wanted it so badly. For everything to be normal. The desire burned through his muscle and scorched his bones. And the ultimate test was speaking to his family. Maybe he wasn’t able to talk to Mikey last night because he was only just realising how little he had talked? Maybe he would be able to talk easily now?

The very least he could do was stop thinking about his time with the Other Brothers. 

He had been sitting there for only a few moments when he heard Leo’s bedroom door open. Then his sleepy footsteps stagger towards the kitchen. None of them were great ninjas first thing in the morning. 

This was his chance to prove everything was okay. To put into practise everything he had been thinking. He was going to say good morning to his brother. Something that usually brought him joy to think about instead filled him with dread. 

Leo’s footsteps padded through the living room. 

He just had to say good morning. Three syllables. Just two words. 

The footsteps got louder the closer he got. 

While he couldn’t make breakfast, he could at least pour Leo a cup of coffee too. That’s it, he’ll pour him a drink and then say good morning to him. His hands shook as he wobbly poured the coffee into Leo’s mug. 

He could hear Leo pause. He stretched and yawned right before the kitchen doorway. 

His breaths came out harshly and rushed. It felt like he was going to sick up the barest amount of coffee he had drank. His skin prickled so quickly that it felt like his scales grew spikes. 

Three... more... footsteps…

“Morning, Don,” Leo greeted easily. 

He spun around to face his eldest brother with the cup of coffee held forward.

Say something. 

Oh hi Leo, here’s some coffee. Or maybe, Good morning Leo, did you sleep well? 

But nothing came out. He awkwardly continued to hold the coffee out in his direction. 

“Thanks,” Leo said as he grabbed the mug and settled into his chair. He took a dramatic long sip. 

This was the opposite of normal. It was the most abnormal thing he had ever done. In a desperate bid to regain normalcy, Donnie followed his lead and sat back down. It was hard to swallow his drink from how tight his nerves were. His throat closed in protest and it took a moment to swallow his sip. 

Did Leo notice his silence too?

Mikey had noticed it but that didn’t mean that everyone else had noticed it too. Dad definitely would’ve if Mikey had. Maybe Mikey had rambled about it to everyone before going to confront him.

Now he had noticed he hadn’t talked, it felt obvious. He was sitting there feeling like he was carrying a glowing neon sign stating that he couldn’t talk. 

“Did you sleep okay?” Leo asked, now looking a lot more awake with the caffeine. 

He felt like an easily startled animal sitting next to his brother. It was like he was sitting with the battle hardened Leo rather than his half asleep eldest bro. It was the coward’s route but he nodded silently. 

Leo, meanwhile, didn’t react. He just nodded back thoughtfully. As if what he did contributed to the conversation at all! He continued just sitting there and slowly sipping his coffee. Blissful of Don’s harsh panic. 

Leo wasn’t a morning person no matter how hard he tried to be. He wasn’t the most chatty in the mornings and would wait for the coffee to fully sink in before trying to function. Donnie would usually never pay the silence between them much thought. They both enjoyed being quiet together. But there was a difference between quiet and silence. 

What kind of brother can’t even talk to his family!

No wonder the Other Brothers felt abandoned by him if he stopped talking and then left the family. 

Each second they sat together felt like a failure. 

His brain scrambled to fill the silence but his voice refused to cooperate. He wanted to talk. He needed to talk. 

There was no way he could let Mikey be right…

There was no way there was something wrong with him. 

But there had to be. 

He tried straining his vocal cords to make any kind of noise, but it all failed. No matter how hard he thought about it, he couldn’t feel that same humming vibration in his throat. His mouth was glued shut. It was absent from his body. 

Leo was sitting within arm’s reach but he might as well have been in the North Pole. 

The realisation sank in slowly. Mikey was right. He was always right. He couldn’t speak. All the excuses he spent all night thinking of crumbled away like he knew they would. There was no point in putting it off or trying to disprove it another way. For whatever reason he couldn’t speak. There was no use in running away from the problem. Donnie had spent the entire night coming up with excuse after excuse, denying what had happened. He couldn't do that anymore. Denial would never fix a problem.

Okay, so he can’t talk and he needs to tell the rest of the family about that. It wasn’t fair to keep them in the dark and if they had already noticed then he should let them know he was aware of it now too. He needed to let them know.

A fantastic problem considering he can’t just tell them. 

He was stuck uselessly staring at his brother. They were sat right next to each other. Their knees not quite touching underneath the table. In normal life, Don would share every secret he had with him. Every doubt and worry would be whispered to Leo who always seemed to know what to do. Yet he couldn’t summon his voice. 

An enemy’s blockade in his own throat. A sign flapping in the wind that his voice had gone fishing. 

Maybe his family would be able to solve it like Mikey said. Admittedly, he had said that when he thought he was injured but the principle itself was still true. Dad was an endless well of knowledge. Leo was great at simplifying things and creating good plans. Mikey gave the best hugs. Raph would give him a half hearted noogie and tell him everything would be okay. All of them would say it would be okay and he would believe them. 

He needed to tell them. 

They needed to know so they didn’t think he was rude when he couldn’t answer. So they wouldn’t waste their time asking questions that he can’t respond to. Shell, imagine they were on a mission and he needed to warn them of something. 

His stomach lurched. It was lucky he hadn’t eaten yet. 

The silence in the kitchen lingered. Only occasionally broken as Leo took an obnoxiously loud sup from his cup. Donnie had never felt so humiliatingly powerless before.

Anger swirled with his panic into a sickening sludge. 

How does he tell Leo that he can’t tell him anything!

The kitchen had paper!

They kept a notepad for Mikey to write down any groceries they needed since there was no way he could remember it on his own. 

He skidded upright and grabbed it off the fridge. Leo looked very calm considering the situation. Or maybe he was too sleepy to realise this whole thing was weird in the first place. 

Donnie threw the notepad open and quickly scrawled a message:

I can’t talk.

He slid the notepad over to him. That got Leo up and alert. He stared down at the sentence. His eyes flitted around the room. 

Donnie startled as Leo stole the pen out of his hand. 

What makes you think that? Leo wrote.

What? Donnie frowned.

His brother meanwhile looked ready to jump up and go out on a mission. Any sign of sleepiness gone. 

Donnie was making too big of a deal out of this. He didn’t think it was possible but a curl of shame managed to pierce through the thundering anxiety. He was scaring Leo. 

Somewhat awkwardly, Donnie gestured for the pen back and wrote out another message.

Mikey pointed it out. I haven’t talked since coming back.

Leo frowned harshly too and gestured for the pen again. 

Donnie uncertainly handed it over.

Okay, just because he couldn’t talk that didn’t mean that Leo suddenly couldn’t as well.

You think there’s something wrong and you didn’t tell me?

I only realised last night! Donnie defended himself. 

Leo calmed down but was still rigid and alert. 

Who do you think would bug the place?

What? Oh! Donnie snorted and his nerves finally settled. 

No! No! This place isn’t bugged or anything. Mikey pointed out that I literally haven’t talked since coming home from the Ultimate Drako situation. I’ve tried but I physically can’t talk.

“Oh,” Leo said out loud. 

Donnie laughed loudly. You thought I wouldn’t tell you if I thought the Lair had been bugged?

“I did think this was sudden,” Leo defended, his meek embarrassed look disappearing as he laughed too. “This is why I need coffee in the morning!”

I did wonder why you kept stealing my pen when you could verbally respond. 

“Okay, okay. We don’t need to keep talking about it,” Leo chuckled before the weight of his words finally hit him. “So what’s actually going on? Wait. You can’t talk? Are you hurt?”

Donnie was aware he should respond but he couldn’t think of what to say. His laughter eased into a shunned silence.

Yeah. He couldn’t talk. 

He was going about this completely wrong. 

Leo looked so worried and confused and there was literally no answer he could give. He didn’t have any answer as to why he couldn’t talk. Not even any theories. Not a clue! 

There had been glaring red flags that something was wrong and he only became aware of them as of last night. He hadn’t noticed being unable to speak for two weeks straight. His training resembled that of the training he did at 8 years old. 

He should’ve done some research before this. He should’ve come to Leo with the exact problem so they could come together and create a solid plan. 

Instead he had relied on his panic and ran in to panic the rest of his family. 

“Don? What’s going on?” Leo questioned, his brow creasing in concern. He looked up at him pleadingly. Begging for an answer that Donnie only just realised that he didn’t know. 

He can’t talk. 

Why? He doesn’t know.

What was wrong? Not a clue.

How do we fix this? Great question. 

None of which he had thought about beyond telling Leo. 

His pen hovered over the page and Donnie chewed his lip. 

One question at a time. Start with the easy stuff and then that might answer the harder stuff. 

I’m not hurt. I don’t know why I can’t talk. I’ve tried. I don’t know what is wrong. It feels terrifying even trying to talk. 

It was painfully honest. There weren’t many times when he had to hold his hands up and say he didn’t know. 

Leo read his message carefully. “It feels scary to talk? What do you mean?” He asked but Donnie could see Leo finally understanding. 

Leo studied his harsh gulped breathing. His hands were still shaking. Every sign of his panic was carefully picked apart by him. 

I can’t describe it. I feel anxious when around you guys. It feels like I’m too scared to talk to people. 

“People…” Leo reiterated under his breath. He went to say more but Donnie felt his nerves finally give in.

I need to research. He scribbled. Show this to dad and Raph. They need to know too.

His mind was racing too quickly to catch up. It felt rude to leave but he wanted to get his research started. The sooner this was fixed, the better.

Leo read his last addition. He didn’t look so worried anymore. Instead he was reading over all he had written with a creased brow. He looked just as wrong footed as Mikey had. 

Donnie awkwardly gestured behind him to say that he was leaving. He left too quickly for Leo to respond. 

He ran out of the kitchen, accidentally leaving his coffee on the table. No one else was awake so there was no one to stop him from disappearing into his lab. 

Research wasn’t going smoothly. It was awkward trying to figure this out. The right combination of words had to be found first before he could find any relevant results. Article after article listed all these medical disorders he had never heard of. It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to even stumble across the right term. 

Looking at how suddenly he had this fear of talking, his experience seemed to line up with being mute.

Where everything fell apart was the fact that selective mutism was only researched in children. Donnie had been scrolling through every article and research piece he could find. Mutism was either talked about with other serious medical conditions that he already knew he didn’t suffer with or five to seven year old children who stopped speaking at school. It just didn't happen in people his age. But there was nothing else it could be!

Any scrap of deniability he had been clinging to had to be left at the lab door. There was nothing else it could be. Any fear of talking led straight back to mutism. 

Other articles talked about refusing to talk as a voluntary action. And it sure didn’t feel voluntary. 

Disabilities causing someone to lose the ability to talk or struggle to learn the skill in the first place. Definitely not him. 

He had found one story of a little girl who stopped speaking to anyone outside of her mother and father. Her grandpa solemnly recounting that he had never heard her voice. 

The thought of him becoming like that scared him more than anything else. He couldn’t help but imagine his own dad spending hours typing out his grief of never hearing his son again. What was the last thing he had said to everyone?

Would his dad die before he could regain the ability to talk?

So far, Donnie had three hours of research under his belt and nothing to really show for it. 

He sighed as he stretched out his arms and shoulders before reading the next academic paper he found. 

But a gentle knock at his door pulled him free from his research fugue state. The sound snapped through the silence effortlessly. 

Come in, he thought sarcastically as he got up from the desk and opened the door. Raph was standing at his door with Leo caught trying to pull him away from the train car. Both of them startled like they hadn’t been expecting him to answer.

It took one second for them to register him. 

Raph’s face flashed from startled to furious. He held up the paper where he had explained what had happened like it was a search warrant. “What the shell is going on?” He barged into the lab and Leo followed. 

Anxiety stabbed through his stomach with the grace of a professional fencer.

Raph slammed the paper on the desk. “You’ve been quiet but not that bad! It’s just one of your moods. It’ll pass, they always do.”

Donnie was helpless. He literally couldn’t make the words to tell Raph that it was in fact that bad. 

“Raph, I said leave it.” Leo kept trying to tug him away. 

“No, Leo! I wanna know what the shell Mikey said to freak him out so badly! I know these past few weeks have been bad but they’re nothing we can’t handle. Of course you can talk.”

“Nothing happened between them!” Leo scolded and tried to wrangle Raph away with no effect. He desperately checking behind him as he did all this. “Or- I… I don’t think anything happened? You would say if something happened, right Don? Oh, uh. You would not say. He can’t talk, Raph and we’re not helping. We need to leave.”

It was painful listening to them both get so wound up. It wasn’t the best option but Donnie twisted his computer screen to show them the kind of research he was doing. 

Raph wasted no time in swinging around the spare stool and taking a seat next to him. “Mutism?” He asked, mispronouncing the word like it was about a mutt. 

Not that he could correct the mispronunciation anyway. Meh, in honesty, even if he could’ve Raph would’ve just called him a nerd. 

He highlighted a sentence that gave a brief if a horrifically hard to understand definition of mutism. 

“Is everything okay in here?” Dad walked in as well but his openly worried glance made it clear that he already knew what was happening. Leo must’ve already shown dad the paper too. 

“This is ridiculous! You can speak, Don! Right?” Raph’s harsh tone melted into something more desperate, more begging.

Everyone stopped and looked to him. Waiting with bated breaths. But waiting for what? For him to break down in tears about his inability to talk? For him to laugh and shout out that it all had been a long elaborate prank?

He had done a terrible job at explaining things and now Leo had passed that awful explanation to the whole family. Raph was continuing to read down the article that discussed mutism as an effect of brain damage which he wasn’t experiencing. Leo looked one wrong word away from running out of the room. 

It was all so much more humiliating than when he tried to comfort Mikey last night. His jaw locked against his movement and kept his mouth clamped tightly shut. 

That same sensation of too many tasks queuing up in his brain stuttered through him. As Raph had put it, one of his ‘moods’ was striking again. Because of course it was. 

So many people depended on him. Eyes all over the room waiting for an answer. The air thick and unbearable with anticipation. He couldn’t break. He had to be the strong one. Flashes of memories skewered through him. He couldn't afford to break and run away. Drako had literally shown him a world where he ran away from his problems. He couldn't run but it felt like was dying to be here.

“My son.” 

It all snapped away as he was gently brought into a furry warm hug. He instinctively burrowed his nose into his chest before he could register that it was his dad.

Dad would fix this. If he was here then everything was going to be okay. He had absolute faith in him. 

“Oh Don,” Raph, still young, whispered like he had been shot. Both of his eyes wide open in shock.

“Come on!” Leo growled, seemingly more determined to drag Raph out of the room. 

But Raph wrestled to stay exactly where he was and look after his brother. Unmovable rock meets unstoppable force. 

But Donnie continued hugging his dad. When they had all been rescued, he didn’t get the chance to hug before they had to battle. Then they got home and he had been too stressed to know up from down. It was his first hug from his dad in over a month. They weren’t the most physically affectionate family. Dad was partial to a good head pat but that became rarer once he couldn’t actually reach their heads. 

The smell of his dad soothed every worry. It overpowered everything and he tried to tuck closer. He could hear the gentle firm beating of his heart. The silence finally broken consistently. 

He pulled away once he felt ready to. Usually he would’ve said thank you for the hug. That thought sent him sinking back to earth. 

Dad smiled. He grabbed a spare sheet of paper and handed him a pen. “Leonardo said that you were able to write down messages?”

Yes. Thank you for that.

“Of course, my son,” dad frowned at his computer screen. “So it… is a medical problem?”

Kind of?? He answered as he tilted the screen back to himself. While his findings weren’t in any presentable state, he could still show them the rough notes he had collected so far. I can’t find an exact answer but presumably it's a mental thing.

He scrolled past all the brain scan images. In my case. He added.

“Is there anything we can do?” Dad asked, his pleading worry slipping into his speech. 

Raph nodded firmly along with that. 

Donnie shrugged uneasily. He scrolled towards the bottom of the document of rough notes and highlighted his writing. It was a series of bullet points of all kinds of speech therapy exercises and therapies. These are mostly for children but they seem sound enough.

Everyone flinched at that though. 

Don wasn’t happy with it either. None of this was ideal. Research had been tough but he had done enough to understand that this was his only option. There wasn’t any medication to magically bring back his speech. It left a bad taste in his mouth despite telling himself that therapy existed to help people. He was going to have to play the role of therapist and patient with his entire family along for the ride. 

He was going to be doing therapy. 

Dad rested a hand over his. “We will support you with this. You are never alone.”

“Exactly,” Raph barked out. 

His emotions felt just as weak and wobbly as his attempt at a smile. Thanks dad. Thanks everyone.

Dad doubletaked at his words. He tried to chuckle it off but Don caught him.

What? He asked through facial expressions. 

“Oh nothing. It’s just…” He chuckled wryly, “it’s been so long since I’ve been dad and not Master Splinter.”

What?

Don reread his words in disbelief. There was no way he had been calling him dad. He had even called him dad on the original sheet of paper. He hadn’t called him such a childish name in years. But the word continued to stare back at him unflinchingly.

Dad- Splinter chuckled it off and whipped the paper out of sight, tucking it into his pocket. Master Splinter stood up and quickly walked to the door. His jaunty run made it seem like he was joking around. But Donnie wasn’t joking around. 

How long had that been going for? Even thinking of his correct title made a queasy feeling rise up in his stomach. It felt identical to the freezing panic of trying to speak. 

Whatever was wrong with him, it had infected his thoughts. How he thought about the others. It twisted everything he used to express himself into a useless mangled lump. 

Any control he had, over his body or thoughts, vanished. He was reduced to nothing but a passive passenger inside his own head. No talking. He couldn’t get a grip on his emotions. Now his thoughts had been spiralling out of control and he had needed someone else to point that out. 

“I will leave you to do your research but I expect to see you here for dinner?” Splinter asked.

With no other option, Donnie nodded. Splinter smiled sagely as he then left the lab. 

That left him with his brothers. 

Raph tugged him into his own tight hug. “I’m sorry I said that stuff. I just… don’t like to see you like this. If… if therapy is what you need then we’ll do it.” Raph pulled away and all the emotions seemed to exhaust him as well. He chuckled wetly and gently noogied him. “It’ll all be okay.”

As he stood up, Leo snatched him into a tight hold and dragged Raph to the lab door too. “As Master Splinter said, we’ll leave you to it, Don,” Leo rambled out, not looking as he tugged them out of the room. The door shutting with a sudden firm snap. 

Donnie gathered up the papers that had started this whole mess. His mind was too much of a mess to notice that Leo had underlined his words about being too anxious to talk to his family.

Chapter Text

Don had fully planned to work through the night. The more research he had under his belt, then the sooner he could be normal again. But maybe he could admit to himself that it was easier to keep researching than to try and do something. It was daunting to think of putting any of the techniques he was reading about into practice. He had no idea where to even start so surely the solution was to keep researching even more.

Eventually, the lights of the Lair clicked off. Both Raph and Mikey separately poked their heads in to say goodnight. Donnie had waved at them both. The world dimmed as night set in and all noise fell away as everyone fell asleep. 

But he was soon interrupted.

“Donatello?” Master Splinter gently knocked on his door as he walked in.

Don was very deliberate to think of him as Master Splinter. No matter how wrong it now felt. His anxiety picked up. He tried really hard to relax himself by assuring himself that there was no pressure to talk. His dad… Oh, uh, Master wouldn’t expect him to talk. He turned and smiled uneasily at him. Just as he had for his brothers.

“Would you care to join me for some meditation before I turn in for bed?”

Donnie had every intention to work through the night. But now that he was thinking about it, meditation sounded great right about now. He had joined Leo and Splinter’s meditation sessions when he first came back and was feeling out of sorts- and that had really helped. Maybe it would clear his head.

What better way to feel in control of his own thoughts again than to force his brain to go blank?

Don nodded and stood up from his desk. 

As they left the lab, dad-Master Splinter’s tail tucked around his ankle.

The dojo’s equipment had been tidied away for the day which left them the wide open room to meditate in. Usually he would be too busy doing training to pay much attention to the room but this provided a great chance to take it all in. There was already an incense lit with its smell slowly filling the room. The art work hanging on the wall was a mix of some leftover pieces scavenged from Yoshi’s home and some art they had done for Splinter over the years. There was one dramatic landscape of the city coloured in deep blues and blacks that Leo had done when he was about 11. Back when he wanted to be a painter. 

It was a room for peaceful meditation and spilling secrets to their father when their worries got to much. But it was also the room for doing burpees until they couldn’t stand anymore. The room where Mikey would complain and whine at his very worst. It held so many memories. 

Master Splinter sat down into a perfect lotus position and Donnie copied him. 

He completed all the steps necessary to sink into a light trance. Master Splinter probably had a completely different technique but it all led to the same results. He breathed evenly. His hands rested on his knees. He paid close attention to how his body felt. It was hard to pry his attention away from the articles he had been reading but he poured all his concentration into how his weight sank into the floor of the dojo. The chill of the floor. Breathing that slowly filled his chest and gently left him. 

The presence of Master Splinter burned beside him. Not nearly as blinding and molten as it had been when he first came home. But it still felt strange and noteworthy to be sitting beside his Sensei. It was infuriating. Master Splinter shouldn’t be something that makes him feel worried and anxious. This was a perfectly normal situation and yet he was reacting as if this was the first time ever he had meditated with him. His emotions were all wrong. His thoughts continued to betray him. He felt so lucky to be sitting here with his dad. 

Don had no idea how long they meditated for. He never did. One moment he would be deep in a trance and the next Master Splinter would be standing up and declaring it over. The same happened now. Splinter sat up in a way that made it clear that he had finished his own meditation. But he didn’t move away. 

“Keep breathing, my son,” he whispered. 

It had been a very long time since Splinter felt the need to guide them through a trance but Donnie followed his instruction. 

Splinter shuffled with something. 

Don flinched as he unexpectedly grabbed his hand. He handed him a pen and guided him to some sheets of paper he had placed before him. 

“Would you like to try talking now?” Splinter asked, the question barely audible. 

His body rejected the notion quicker than he could shake his head. A sudden spike of ice slicing through him, sending a harsh chill across his body. Whatever relaxation he had found was then shattered. 

At least he had a pen and paper ready this time. 

I can’t. Sorry.

“Ah, that is okay,” he nodded, his ears drooping, “You said it was like an anxiety?”

Donnie nodded.

“I had hoped that keeping you calm and relaxed would allow you to fight through that anxiety,” he said solemnly. 

He was quick to respond, My research actually suggested that too.

Admittedly, those articles had been discussing how to overcome social anxiety but the technique had sounded solid. Exposure therapy and doing grounding techniques to remain calm until you are able to talk without fear. 

Donnie would describe what he was feeling as an anxiety but there was also an element of something else. Fear? It wasn’t as simple as being too scared to talk which would cause him to freeze which then made him unable to talk. It didn’t feel like an irrational fear, it felt grounded and real. But what did he even have to be fearful of? Why was he feeling anxious? What would possibly happen from talking to his father or saying good morning to his brothers?

Master Splinter read his sentence and seemed to ease. “But it did not work this time?”

I think it’s a slow process. No matter what I do to help, it will take time for it to work. Everything I’ve read says that it will be slow and gradual. 

“Yet you don’t seem impressed with that answer?” Splinter chuckled knowingly.

Donnie wanted to sigh. We don’t have time to waste. Every answer I find takes a long time to work- even if it works. What if I spend weeks on a therapy that doesn’t even work on me.

“Why the rush? Why do not have time?” Splinter asked. He asked in a way that made it seem like Don was being ridiculous and he was now going to make him realise how ridiculous he was.

With his brothers, it had felt awkward writing a long answer. Their eyes watched as he wrote out every letter in every word in every sentence. A response now took several minutes rather than seconds to say. 

But somehow with Master Splinter, it didn’t feel awkward.

Both of their eyes were hooded with exhaustion. Their flawless lotus positions had fallen away to slumping over cross legged. As he wrote, Splinter stared dazedly forward without really looking. Something he did when he was really tired. There was no rush so he could take his time to write the right words.

I know there isn’t really a deadline. We’ve dealt with Drako, Shredder hasn’t been a problem recently. But turtle luck says that we’ll run into trouble soon. I can’t do missions if I can’t communicate with the team. I need to be ready. 

It was a very polite way of wording the sense of impending doom that he had followed him since being rescued. Every second not working was a second wasted. Their futures teetered on a delicate balance and he had to work fast. 

“Indeed,” he said gravely, “but you shouldn’t force yourself to hurry either. You may push so hard that it takes longer than if you were patient with yourself.”

Donnie couldn’t really argue with that. He tapped the pen to the page, doodling the cool S that Mikey showed him how to do. You sound like all the therapy pieces I’ve been researching.

Splinter laughed quietly. “I am merely trying to help you as best I know. I am guessing you have learnt a lot then?”

Donnie did a so-so motion. Always more to learn . 

Master Splinter paused as he considered his next words. “There is no need to hurry yourself to be okay again. But… be careful you are not trapping yourself in endless research. You do not need to wait for the perfect moment with perfect knowledge to start recovering.”

Donnie looked away and continued his absent minded doodling. 

How did Splinter always make things seem so simple? In his lab, he had already justified to himself that he couldn’t start recovering yet because all of his research was flawed and half remembered notes. Surely if he tried to recover now then he would just make everything worse. Yet hearing Splinter talk about it made it so easy. 

Don wasn’t a licensed therapist. He never would be. So why would he torment himself for not being one and refusing himself any kind of help. There would never be a perfect moment to start so why waste time. Donnie would swear Master Splinter was a wizard in how he could fix problems. 

Splinter hummed. "So would you want to continue this?”

Donnie startled at that.

“Perhaps if we meditate together in the evenings, complete relaxation and breathing techniques to calm ourselves, make this a habit, it will feel less scary. Maybe one day we could talk after a session together. It could be a good first step to getting better,” his dad soothed.

As he said earlier, the sooner he started then the sooner things would be normal again. He nodded.

“Every evening- say around 9pm- we can sit here, meditate until we are calm, and try talking?” Splinter suggested.

He made it sound so much simpler than the paragraphs of medical jargon did. 

Through their chat, his heart had calmed down again. The anxiety had left him completely. But Don knew it lurked around the corner. It was still present. He didn’t want to stress himself out again so he didn’t try to verbally respond. Donnie just nodded and wrote out ‘yes’. He even circled it. 

Master Splinter smiled. “That is good. Now. Let us rest, my son.”

He stood up and helped his father stand up too. 

That was probably Master Splinter’s plan all along. To drag him out of the lab and send him straight to bed. Donnie chuckled as he was chaperoned right through his bedroom door and to his bed’s ladder. His father was a ninja master; of course he was always planning and plotting something. 

That night his too realistic dream was about fixing up vehicles.

The Resistance had told him to keep any repair work to the sewers, a fair distance away from the camp. Therefore if he made too much noise then he wouldn’t reveal where everyone was hiding. He had loved the Resistance's garage. It was the only part of that world that had felt like home- what with it located in the sewer. 

It took a moment to understand what vehicle he was underneath. It was the Tunneler. Underneath the vehicle was caked in mud and rust with the inner workings slowly crumbling to bits. His dream didn’t exactly reveal what exactly he had been doing to it but he could guess it needed about every repair under the sun. 

Not that he had long to puzzle over what he was doing. 

“Hey.”

Donnie jumped and slammed his head into the chassis. “You could’ve given me some warning,” he grumbled as he wheeled himself out from underneath. 

Raph was waiting for him. Not his normal Raph, the Other Raph. He was smirking victoriously at making him jump. The smirk looked rusty from disuse. His sewn shut eye twitched against the motion. But Donnie ignored all of that. 

“At least help me out if you’re going to scare me like that.” Don rolled his eyes. 

His neck had a terrible crick from craning up at the Tunneler. He had long since stopped wiping his hands clean as he would just get them greasy and gross again. There was a dried splatter of oil across his forehead from where he tried to wipe his sweat away. He had been working for about nine hours straight and he was beginning to lose it. Don would very much appreciate Raph helping. 

That tingle of being too overwhelmed to function was starting. The plan he had created would be put into action at the end of the week. There was a lot more work to be done until they were ready. He had every reason to be grouchy with Raph. 

Plus, it’s not like any of his brothers had tried putting on a happy face for him. 

“Actually, yeah I was gonna,” Raph answered back. He shucked off his coat, grabbed another rolling board and joined him on the floor. “So what were you doing?”

Don was never going to turn down free assistance. He laid back down on the board and wheeled himself back under. He didn’t exactly remember what he was doing, which was weird. He had been working nine hours straight, but on what? “Trying to sort this whole thing out. We need to sort out the worst parts first. See this part here-”

“The motor for the drill, right?” Raph answered before he could explain. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, the motor. Well it’s-”

“It’s been eroded away. Looks like water damage. Meaning something somewhere is leaking. Must’ve been a big leak too for it to do that much damage over several years. Maybe the coolant? The Tunneler needed lots of coolant, right?” Raph pointed everywhere he was going to point. 

No matter how long he had been in this world for, he always found new things to be disappointed by. Life had moved on in his thirty year absence. His brothers had grown up and moved on without him. 

Which was stupid to think. Of course they had. Would he rather see them still grieving and stuck in the same place? It was cruel to even think about. Don scolded himself for how his stomach twisted and churned. 

Back in his own world, Raph was getting pretty good at vehicle maintenance himself. He certainly wasn’t an expert but he knew how to look after his bike and was getting the hang of other vehicles. From the smaller stuff like replacing bulbs and tires to the bigger stuff like doing his own MOTs. But he still had a lot to learn. Most of the time, he would come over and ask if he could double check his work just to be sure. 

This Raph must’ve continued to learn about cars and bikes without him. 

A childish part of him wanted to ask who taught him any of this. 

Raph helped him work. They didn’t use any power tools so they wouldn’t alert any Foot Bots they may be wandering around on the surface. At home, this would’ve been his chance to ramble about whatever came to mind and for Raph to poke fun at him. A task usually filled with playful banter and smudging oil on each other was completed in responsible silence. 

There wasn’t any need to show Raph what to do or explain what went wrong and how to prevent it. He already knew. 

Donnie really wanted to ask how he knew any of this. The only person he could think of was Casey but there was no way he had taught Raph. Casey had remained with the Resistance while Raph left. 

The Tunneler was fundamental for the plan to defeat Shredder for once and all. When Donnie had first seen it, the outside looked intact and fully functional. But the inside was completely ruined. The motor was rusted bright red and had huge gaping holes burned through. Seeing the Tunneler in that state should’ve sent him straight back to Leo to figure out another way. But he was far too stubborn for his own good. 

The fact that Raph had so easily diagnosed what was wrong like that was impressive. Someone had to have taught him that. But who? Why didn't he teach him this? Where had Raph been all those years away from the Resistance? Somewhere with mechanics?

Raph kept to his side of the Tunneler. Only occasionally grunting as he struggled to find the leverage to unscrew a tight bolt. 

He couldn’t help it. He had to ask. “What were you up to before coming here?”

That was casual, right? It was a good question too. No one knew where Raph and Leo had been. Their lives were just one big mystery considering none of the family had talked to each other in the past seven years. 

Raph grunted as he continued wrenching off the motor to replace it. “Eating. Why?”

He had to tread carefully. Every sentence was one step further into a minefield. “I meant before… you came here. To the Resistance.”

He just couldn’t picture Raph doing nothing. There was no way his brother had sat around while humans were enslaved and tortured. While people were being hurt. Killed. 

Raph pulled away from his work but didn’t look over at him. “Why do you wanna know?”

His tongue felt thick in his throat. His heart racing. “Curiosity,” Donnie said lightheartedly. 

“I was here and there.”

“You travelled?”

“Yeah.”

“Where to?”

“Places you wouldn’t know.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Don,” Raph snapped, “why the damn interrogation?”

“I just want to know!” He gasped.

“That’s your problem Don. Always sticking your nose in. Saying too much. How about you quit yapping and stick to what you’re good at.”

Donnie startled awake. 

In the actual memory, he never got that far in his questions. They hadn’t gotten further than Donnie answering that he was asking out of curiosity. Raph then seemed to shut down and told him that it was none of his business. His dreams were warping everything to be much harsher. That Other Raph was blunt and mean but he wasn’t cruel. Donnie was pretty sure he would have never insulted him like that. He was pretty sure. 

Before he walked to breakfast, he grabbed all of his notes from his research. He was going to take Master Splinter’s advice to heart. He wasn’t going to trap himself to endless research. Nothing was stopping him from making right now the perfect moment to recover. 

He knew what was roughly wrong at this point. 

What was wrong? He was mute. A condition where someone either chooses or is unable to speak, typically seen in young children. Why? It must’ve stemmed from seeing that other world. Which made sense. It was a stressful time but he couldn’t get any more specific than that. Why would seeing that make him unable to talk? Don was hoping to find that out as he went along. How to help? Well he had a handful of vaguely good sounding exercises and his own optimism. 

The only way to find out if it would work, would be to try. 

His brothers were sitting around for breakfast. All of them stared at him as he walked in before quickly looking away. The silence around them was the most obnoxious elephant in the room. Leo went to stand up and Donnie shot forward before anyone could leave. He needed to get this out. Sitting down, he laid out his research notes. 

I’ve found a variety of techniques that will help me recover my ability to talk. I want to try some out. He had pre-written out that sentence for this moment and underlined it to draw their attention to it. 

“Right. Tell us what we need to do,” Mikey said determinedly. 

Leo paused but didn’t sit back down with them. 

He had found a number of different therapies and it had been a challenge to pick which one to try first. Master Splinter was going to help with the calming side of things, so he chose to focus on the actual talking side of things. 

Communication from afar, He underlined next. Some patients found it easier to talk when not face to face with others. I.E talking on the phone or through writing things down. 

“That makes sense,” Raph said despite his face saying otherwise, “So you’ll… what? Try ringing us?”

Donnie nodded. I can already talk by writing out messages. So I’ll build on that and try talking to you over the shell cells.

He was genuinely optimistic about that one. It had been the only advice he had found that came directly from someone with mutism. Well, someone with mutism’s mom but that was still really good. But everyone looked at him uncertainly. Leo looked ready to run. 

I have already gone too long without talking. I need to get back into the habit and make it seem normal and relaxing again. Phone calls are a great way to get back into the habit. 

“Yeah but how does that help when the problem is you’re too scared to talk?” Raph asked as he pulled out the paper where he first explained his problem to Leo. The paper was crumpled and greyed now. 

The more I do it, the less scary it will feel. Plus Master Splinter is going to help me with that.

“Oh Splinter’s helping too? Well can we help with that too?” Mikey asked desperately despite having no idea what him and Splinter were planning. If he did then he probably wouldn’t have offered, Donnie thought wryly. 

Leo perked up too.

Donnie considered it though. There was nothing stopping him from meditating with his brothers too and then trying to speak afterwards. But they weren’t as relaxing to meditate with. Mikey especially. Maybe Leo would be nice to meditate with but then Don and Splinter already planned on doing this every day. It would get a bit much if he also meditated with the guys. 

It’ll be easier just between me and Splinter. 

Everyone deflated at that but Mikey nodded in understanding. 

I understand that I’ve made a really big deal out of this. Donnie tried desperately to make eye contact with Leo but his eldest brother was barely looking at his sentences. But a great way to help is not to make a big deal of me trying. Even when I do start speaking, act if it that’s normal.

“Right, that makes sense,” Mikey gasped, “You feel all weird about talking so is making a weird big deal out of it will keep making you feel weird.”

Everyone blinked.

“Sure. Whatever you just said Mikey,” Raph congratulated.

“That’s the only way we can help? Pick up the phone and don’t make a fuss,” Leo asked nervously with frustration bleeding through. 

Donnie nodded. I guess just give me some space. I will sort this out.

And he was going to sort this out. Recovery started today. 

He tried out the phone call idea first. Out of everyone in his contacts, he decided Mikey would be a great first attempt. 

He knew that Mikey was just in the livingroom and he always had his phone on him. Leo and Raph weren’t always great at answering. Plus, there was a guilty part of him that wanted to make it up to him. Mikey had helped him realise that there was a problem and had been the most freaked out about everything. 

He shouldn’t think like this but there was some part of him that hoped to successfully talk to Mikey first over anyone else. To make it up to him. He deserved that. 

Donnie was sitting in his lab, as he always did these days. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t going to work since simply hovering his finger over the speed dial sent his heart racing. A harsh crackle of nervousness skittered over his skin grossly. His hands immediately turned clammy. All from hovering over the right key.

It was like that waiter with the dining tray again. All he had to do was talk. Carry a tray of dishes from one side to another. A bustling restaurant with everyone watching him carry that tray. But the tray was piled too high. It was too precarious. Donnie knew if he tried to pick it up then everything would fall and break. 

His finger jammed the right button. 

The phone rang… and rang… until Mikey picked up. 

“Yelloooooo?” He answered. 

Regardless of how wobbly and useless it felt, Donnie tried to heft up that tray. His voice was gone but he tried to power through. The plates and cups teetered. He tried so hard to balance his breathing. But none of it mattered. The pile of dishes inevitably fell. 

Donnie hung up. 

It was too much to handle. His heart was going to give out if he tried to keep going. He had to stop. It felt the exact same to try talking to their faces. But in that same breath, he was furious with himself. It didn’t feel like he tried hard enough. 

It was a few minutes later that Mikey wandered into his lab and draped himself over his back. “You mind if I read my comics in here?”

His dreams were still an uncomfortable stew of made up dreams and vivid memories. 

He was back in the makeshift garage for the Resistance. Despite how familiar the sight was to him, he found himself staring around in awe. It looked the exact same it always did but it captured his attention ruthlessly. 

It resembled a workshop more than a garage or lab. A very dishevelled one. Outlets dangled from exposed wires in the ceiling, tools were strewn about on every surface and also hanging on every wall. Engines and half built weapons were scattered everywhere. There was a half smashed sink towards the back that seemed to be the only way to wash your hands. Above that was a very empty looking first aid kit. 

None of that was new or surprising but his eyes studied every detail. He wanted to commit the sight to memory. That world had been awful and terrible but it wasn’t all terrible. 

And the garage wasn’t complete without the six figures who were all working away at a buggy like contraption. 

Mikey gestured uncomfortably to the room. “You can probably figure it out better than I can explain any of this,” he said before walking back out of the garage. 

The six figures looked up as he left but none of them stepped forward. They continued working diligently. 

Some tiny part of him expected them to start freaking out at the 5 foot tall turtle who just waltzed into their space. But they hadn’t reacted to Mikey. Why would they react to him?

“Uh hi?” He greeted and walked up to everyone. 

One of the engineers looked up and finally stepped forward. She held out her hand. “Names Chloe. I’m guessing if you were taken here then you know your way around a car?”

Don didn’t recognise her from his own world. She must’ve been in her early twenties, maybe 5’2. Her blond hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. She was pretty scrawny but her shoulders and back suggested otherwise. 

He absolutely knew her from his time in the other world but his brain refused to recognise her until the dream fully played out the first time they met. 

“I didn’t build a submarine from scratch for nothing,” Don lightheartedly gloated. It would be nice to be around other like-minded geniuses. 

Chloe seemed put off by that though. “We don’t do that sort of thing here. We’ll never turn down help but we need you to actually get stuff done, not play mad scientist. To keep your head down, shut up, and get the job done. I say jump, you don’t even bother asking how high.”

Donnie nodded obediently. 

Despite the harshness, he was still eager to work. To finally sink into a project and let his mind quiet under calculating equations and measurements. 

His mouth moved without his permission. “So what pile of scrap is this?” he gestured at the buggy they were working on. 

Chloe glared. Her sunken starved cheeks made her glare harsher. “The project we’re working on.”

“Oh,” Don went to apologise but Chloe bulldozed onwards.

“These are Resistance Buggies. We use them for missions, rescue people or just to drive into Shredder’s bases strapped with bombs. The more we have then the better.”

He knew that. He had helped her with the buggies. Yet he was helpless as he was forced to watch how this played out. 

To call it a buggy was an overstatement. It was like a golf cart that was ‘reinforced’ with whatever car parts people could find. Car doors welded in place over the chassis. Tires tied to the front to cushion any crash. It was very rudimentary. That thing wouldn’t last five minutes in the active war zone New York had become. 

Don was again opening his mouth without his control. “I could design something better. There has to be a better way.”

Chloe whipped around to face him. Despite how skeletal thin and weak she was, he still flinched. “What did I just say?”

Before his eyes, he watched as Chloe waste away. Her fingers peeling from the burns of her hard work. She shrank but her violent aggression never faltered. Despite how her lips and gums rotted away, she managed to snarl at him with just her teeth. “You think you’re better. You think you can magically fix this. This was your fault in the first place. There is no better way. There are no other supplies. This is all your fault!”

Her scream echoed as Donnie woke up. 

He flicked on the light. His covers were uncomfortably wet from how much he had been sweating. Don panted. 

That one had been way more dream than memory. 

It would be exaggerating to say that him and Chloe became friends. They didn’t spend enough time together to truly connect like that. But she was like a really friendly coworker. She was friendly and nice to him amongst the entire Resistance that seemed to bristle against him. During their actual first meeting, she had lit up when he joked about the submarine. She confided later to him that she wished that they had enough parts to make something like that. How much it would benefit the Resistance. How the Shredder would never see it coming. 

She had obviously been starving from the lack of food but she was never skeletal. She could bench lift more than he ever could with just one hand. 

Chloe hadn’t been assigned to that last mission to take on the Shredder. But his gut was confident that she had surely died anyway. She fought so hard for a freedom that she never saw. 

Don scowled and tried to rid his mind of any more thoughts. But it was useless. His skin tingled against the worry. The day had barely started but he knew he would waste half of it trying to escape his own bed. Once again, his head proved over and over again that he was not in control. He was helpless against the most vile and awful thoughts his brain could conjure. 

When Raph’s phone rang, he had completely forgotten about Donnie’s whole exercise thing. 

He had been running around, burning off some extra energy. Things had been tense since the whole not talking thing. He was trying his best to keep active and to exercise through the nervousness so he wouldn’t end up blowing up at someone. The last thing they needed was arguing. If anyone asked, he was simply doing a last minute patrol. 

But that meant his phone interrupted him before he could properly burn out that anger. So he had answered with his patented ticked off, ready for a flight, bluntness. “Yeah, what?”

No one answered the phone. There was nothing. Admittedly, he had to really strain to hear anything on the top of the apartment block he was on. The wind was fierce around him. But he was confident that no one was saying anything. 

“Hello? Anyone there?” He barked harshly.

More silence.

“Mikey. Ya butt dialled me. Again!” He shouted so maybe his brother could hear him. 

It was as he pulled away the phone that he finally noticed the fact that it was Donnie. He just managed to stop himself from hanging up. “Oh shell!” Raph cursed. “Don. I’m sorry.”

Again, there was no response on the other end but he expected that this time. 

Raph shut up so he wasn’t talking over any attempts to talk. 

But a few seconds later, Donnie hung up on him. 

His tantrum that sent him to do this run faded instantly. He was left standing on some random building in the freezing cold, having absolutely blown his chance. Since he was alone, he allowed himself to sigh out another curse. 

He needed to make up for that mistake. 

Pizza was on him. 

Donnie handed Master Splinter the note about wanting to practise sparring again. But, admittedly, he had forgotten to tell his brothers about it too. 

Master Splinter gave him one last look before clapping his hands together. “My sons, we shall move on to sparring next. Leonardo, you shall fight Michelangelo. Raphael, you shall take Donatello.”

“Wait what?” Raph demanded. Even Mikey and Leo had frozen up. 

Donnie nodded and continued walking to the other end of the dojo to spar. 

“But… but you freaked out last- Master Splinter, he freaked out last time,” Raph tattled to whoever would listen. 

His breakdown last time had been really bad last time. There was a reason why he was unhappy but not arguing against training with the punching bag and dummy. 

Master Splinter took a deep breath and parroted the same words he used in his note. “Donatello needs to remain sharp for when he goes out on missions. He has requested to try again and I see no reason to object.”

That was the part that surprised Don. Splinter had agreed with him without much convincing. Which meant that his Sensei also wanted him to start fighting again. Maybe he didn’t even need to ask, maybe Splinter would’ve just asked him to spar one day. 

Raph stared incredulously at him. 

“Don… I mean, I get it. You wanna get better but there’s no need to rush!” Mikey butted in.

Donnie continued standing there ready to face Raph. He could be the most stubborn of brothers with the right argument. 

Master Splinter tried to regain control over the situation and he stepped forward. He clicked his fingers for Mikey and Leo to start their own fight. Both of them looked uncertain but did follow his instruction. Despite Splinter’s command though, they were both obviously half-assing their fight. They fought just enough to fool their Sensei but light enough to also keep an eye out for what happened next. 

As Splinter approached them, Raph exploded into a lecture at him. But Splinter put an end to that by pulling him by his elbow to the side. He quietly whispered that he had partnered them up for a reason. Raphael understood what it was like to fight while being blindsided by his emotions. Donatello needed the same help he did. 

Not that Don caught any of this argument. He kept his gaze set forward. He wasn’t going to let anyone question his ability to fight, not even himself.

His anxiety was already bubbling away from just being near his family. It always reared its ugly head near them since it felt so wrong to be silent around them. The anxiety told him that his family was waiting, expecting, agonising over when he would finally talk. He knew that wasn’t true but it was hard to control his thoughts. 

But his anxiety suddenly skyrocketed the moment Raph actually stepped forward to fight him. 

It took all his strength but he got into position. 

Raph bounced on his toes to loosen himself up. “Let’s try with weapons first, huh?”

He was acting timid. But Donnie was also feeling uncharacteristically nervous too. It was a relief to grab his bo. The feeling flooded and soothed over the anxiety as he clutched his bo in front of his body. 

It wasn’t the deadliest weapon out there- a fact that would surely have to change if their missions kept ramping up like they did. Donnie knew the day he traded in his bo for something that could kill would be one of the hardest days in his life. But he had now seen the consequences of shying away from missions. The Other Brothers had shown him just what happens when you take the coward’s route. Everything could be on the line and he wasn’t placing his brothers’ lives on the efficiency of a stick. 

He and Raph circled each other. It was obvious that Raph didn’t dare to make the first move. 

But his limbs were stuck. His feet refused to move further than his slow, circling crab walk. Panic was blaring in his head. 

But he pushed all of that down. Just like any other time the stakes were life or death. Just like when he entered that Mech with the intention of killing Shredder once and for all. His mind went blank as he forced an uncharacteristic anger to boil his veins. 

With a silent angry yell, he threw himself forward with his bo raised high. He went aggressive. Swinging his bo at Raph’s head, he anticipated his duck and quickly twirled his bo to slam into his shell. 

However, Raph had expected that move too. He ducked and continued forward into his legs. Don didn’t have time to brace himself so he lost his balance and resorted to awkwardly kicking Raph away. He hesitated on his next move.

He hated that he hesitated. What if it had been an actual fight? Any opponent would take that opportunity to kill him where he stood. To kill his family without any hesitation. Don couldn’t make the battle cry he wanted to but the thought rumbled through his chest anyway. 

He stabbed his bo forward before twirling it in front of himself to protect against any counter attack. Don decided to take a leaf out of Mikey’s book. He tried to be fast. Run at every angle. Overwhelm his opponent. 

His riling thought of the Shredder melted against the reality of fighting with his brother. 

Every pause, every misstep, every stupid mistake, he used to power himself up. He had to fight better. Lives were depending on it. Soon, Donnie was in such a mess that he couldn’t tell what was going on anymore. He had no idea who was winning or losing. Just that his opponent was still standing, his family still in danger, and himself too weak to fight effectively. 

Cold metal clasped his wrists. Donnie panicked and threw his weight back to swing his leg into the assailant’s face. He wasn’t holding back as he tried to viciously kick Raph’s jaw. 

This was Raph. 

There was no need to fight like this. He was completely freaking out. Don was going to hurt his brother. He tried to pull back from the motion in panic and ended up throwing himself to the floor. 

He had nearly broken Raph’s nose! And for what! Doing a routine sparring exercise. 

Raph, because he was too caring and loving, leaned down and offered his hand to pull him upright again. 

Donnie’s heart was already racing too hard. He couldn’t tell if it was because he was desperately trying to apologise to him or the adrenaline from the spar. 

Raph heaved him upright easily and took a very relaxed defensive position. He turned to the side to make himself a smaller target and kept his hands up by his chin ready to block any attack. Classic boxer position. He waited for Don to throw the first hit again. 

Still shocked by his own violence, Don shook his head. 

“C’mon Don. We’re training. You’ll just feel terrible if you leave it like this.” Raph bounced on his toes. 

A sudden flash and Raph was on the ground, eye glassy, and chest empty of his breath. His corpse stared uselessly up at him. 

Donnie gasped and the vision disappeared as quickly as it appeared. 

“Splinter hasn’t called sparring to end. Battle through this. You know you’ll feel bad if you don’t fight again,” Raph continued saying.

His limbs were locking up. It was a struggle to force himself to do anything. But he wanted to do better. He wanted to be able to defend his family so he wouldn’t have to see them dead again. Don snapped forward without any plan on what he would actually do. He slammed into Raph and tried to grapple him. Or something. 

It was not any particular technique. He was doing the equivalent of when a seven year old boy tries to fight their brothers by just running into them. Arms and hands flailing everywhere with no actual hitting happening.

Raph pulled him away and clumsily tried to sweep out his legs. 

He was trying to fight badly so Don had a chance. But he just couldn’t get his body to respond to his brother's obvious cues. He fell back on the floor from the world’s worst leg sweep. 

Don couldn’t do this. He just couldn’t. For a moment, he panicked as he couldn’t make himself shout for a time out. He quickly threw up his arms in a T position. 

The moment Raph stopped and dropped all pretences of fighting, Don tried to get up and make a run for it. 

But Raph caught his arm. 

“Wait, wait, wait. Slow down there, Don,” He soothed, his eyes wide in panic. 

Don thrashed against his grip. 

“Let’s… let’s do something different. Okay?” Raph offered. 

He didn’t know why but Donnie paused and listened to what he had to say. 

“We do need to get ya back up and fighting again. Now we’ve burned out that nervous energy, we can do some real work. We just need to go slow.”

That was shortly becoming the story of his life. 

“You were fine throwing punches at the dummy. I’ll get the hook pads and we’ll try just doing some punching and kicking. That sound good?” A touch of nervousness bled into his voice with that last question. Like he was really worried that he was making things worse than helping. 

Maybe that was the reason Don agreed to keep going. 

It took only a moment for Raph to grab the pads to wear on his hands but it was a moment to catch his breath and just exist. They had used those pads a lot as kids which wasn’t helping how babyish and pathetic he felt. 

But Raph came back with them and held them up like an actual boxer’s coach. This time it didn’t feel like he was waiting for Don to make the first move. Instead he was waiting for Donnie to start his exercise that he was helping with. 

Don felt nauseous. Emotions swirled around his head like a sickening cocktail. But he threw a weak strike at the left pad. 

Raph moved the right one forward. 

Don hit that one after a moment’s pause. 

Slowly, Raph morphed his moves into an actual training exercise. He would push his arms forward in a fake strike that Don had to dodge. He would lift his hand above his head and ask Don to kick. 

By their normal standards, it was like taking a light jog as an exercise. But Don still worked up a sweat. 

He left the dojo after training was called to an end not sure if he felt good or terrible about how they went. But Raph had been right. If he had left when he wanted to, he would’ve felt so much worse. 

With days of failures, projects collapsing in front of him, yet another pointless meditation/talking session with Splinter, Donnie was losing it. 

None of it was working. He was trying to be patient. He really was. But he can’t sleep. Nothing was working. He hadn’t seen April and Casey since this all happened. Everyday was spent feeling sick and foreign in his own home. He couldn’t even say hello to his brothers, despite how many times he had pointlessly called them. 

The clock in the lab ticked towards midnight. Donnie was sitting at his desk with his head in his hands. He couldn’t stomach to look at the paperwork on his desk. His fingers were scraped raw from the constant work. He had originally gone to bed after meditating with Splinter but his dreams had sent him upright and running back here before he could think. There was just so much to do. 

He flinched when he heard a light switch flick. 

Thankfully, it came from the kitchen. No one knew he was in his lab. He hadn’t turned on the lights so no one would know he was here. 

Before Drako had stormed into their lives, Don always considered himself a bit of a recluse. He enjoyed his own space. Their lives of living in a sewer was very isolated. But even in that isolated small life they led, he enjoyed sitting alone in his room with his thoughts and calculations. 

But since coming back, he had been proven wrong. He needed other people. It was a hunger deep within his DNA. Disappearing into his lab didn’t feel as healing as it typically did. Going too long without attention felt like he would disappear. 

He spent so long wanting to have any kind of conversation with the Other Brothers. Only to return home and be incapable of talking to his brothers. It was infuriatingly cruel. 

Despite how he couldn’t talk, he just had to investigate who was up too. If it was Master Splinter then he would have some explaining to do. But he was too desperate not to take that chance. 

He didn’t worry about hiding his footsteps. Don concentrated solely on the idea of sitting with one of his brothers. 

It was Leo. 

He must be having his own rough night considering how hard he flinched when he walked in. Leo had paused in the middle of making tea. 

Already, Don could feel his chest loosening. 

He knew what he wanted to say without thinking. 

Him and Leo had this thing. Both of them had their fair share of sleepless nights and if they were both up at the same time, they would play chess together. Both of them would huddle over a board that they could barely see through the dark. They giggled as they tried to play using Chess 2 rules. Both of them would look up the best techniques to impress the other in their next match. Over the years, Donnie grew to treasure those nights. 

Leo probably only did it to keep him happy but it still meant so much to him. 

Playing was like resetting his brain. It was engaging enough to keep his mind focused away from whatever was keeping him up. At this point, they were pretty evenly matched in their chess skills. Their running score was currently sitting at 102 to 105 in his favour. A good number of those matches had been when Leo was too tired to really keep his eyes open. But he always played with him anyway. 

Don had tried to play chess with the Other Leo. It wasn’t the same. 

Forcing those thoughts out of mind, Don waved at him. 

Leo looked like a deer caught in headlights. He didn’t move as Donnie walked past him to grab the notebook. 

Chess?

Leo didn’t even read the note. “I was just heading to bed?”

Donnie pushed it further at him and this time he did actually read it. 

“I didn’t mean to… I’ll- I’ll just go.” Leo gestured behind him and walked out like he was trying to keep his cool while his tail was on fire. 

It was very late. Leo was being completely reasonable in not wanting to play chess. Their games could last hours. 

Leo had left the half made tea on the side. He didn’t want to pour it away in case his brother came back for it. 

Donnie left the kitchen without doing anything else. He had only come in because of Leo. He didn’t have a need to be there.

Don hung up the phone moodily and let his head drop to the desk. He just needed a moment. Curling his arms around his head, he tried to literally hide away from it all. He was glad he was in the lab which was a little more private than the rest of the Lair. While he also despised how far away he felt from everything. For the first time in his life, he wished he could tuck into his shell like an actual turtle. That sounded very nice. 

Tears pricked at his eyes but he blinked them away easily. He was just frustrated. But the mantra that ‘recovering from his mutism would take a while’ didn’t soothe him at all. 

He really wanted to play some chess. Or sit and meditate but without any expectation of talking afterwards. He wanted to chat with his family like it was nothing. Talk about nothing and everything. It was so childish but his heart cried out for it anyway. 

“Mrrp?” Klunk purred as he quickly skittered into the lab. His little paws padded across the floor before stopping at his chair. 

He didn’t have the energy to respond to Klunk. Even a weak chuckle felt like a Sisyphean effort. But he could lift up his head. His arms dropped off the desk down to his sides. 

Thankfully, that was all the invitation that Klunk needed. After a moment of preparing to jump, Klunk managed to leap up to his lap. 

Don then curled back into his defeated position. But this time with Klunk sitting and purring right in the middle of his curled up ball. 

He was warm and tiny in his lap. His little paws kneaded his legs as Klunk looked around the room. Don left his hand dangling off the desk towards his own lap so Klunk could still play while he had his breakdown. 

But Klunk was perfectly content to sit there and purr up a storm. 

Unlike all the past month, there was no pressure to talk or recover. The moment wasn’t ruined by the thought that he ought to be working on his speech. Klunk wouldn’t care if he talked and it wasn’t like he could hold a conversation anyway. For the first time, the silence didn’t feel like an impending battle. It wasn’t silent in the lab. It was just quiet. 

Klunk kept his company and purred loud enough for the both of them. 

Donnie sat there, hunched over and holding back his angry tears, for almost an hour. He winced when he pulled himself up and saw the hour on the clock. His body ached as if he had been laying in that position for hours. The emotional hangover was fulling kicking in but it was a manageable ache. 

Klunk mewed as he moved and Donnie took that as his cue to give him the pets he truly deserved. He had been such a patient and caring kitty. Don lavished him with scritches and pets along the top of his head right to the end of his tail. 

Thanks Klunk, he conveyed through a smile. 

Klunk wasn’t even looking at him but he liked to believe that Klunk understood. 

That night marked the moment that Klunk would always follow him every time he disappeared into the lab. It soothed over his need to be with people while letting him breathe and relax. He would walk into his lab and seconds later Klunk would be sprinting after him mewing loudly. 

Everyone noticed too. Or at least everyone had noticed Mikey’s wailing dramatics as Klunk abandoned his lap every evening. 

Each time, Don welcomed his company. And each time, he would think of all the meaningless conversation and coos he wanted to say to Klunk. He would get to the point where he would mouth along to what he wanted to say. Klunk would look up amazed at him every time he mouthed all his meaningless pet names. 

It happened one evening. Everyone was sitting in the living room and he was working on some blueprints in the lab. Klunk had taken his usual perch on his shoulders.With their shells, it was easy for a cat to lounge across their shoulders without worrying about falling off. Again, the lab was quiet and not silent. 

Don had stuck trying to improve the tech they already had. A potential apocalyptic world hung over him and he needed to get their gear into shape. He was nearly finished but getting all the calculations to line up was always the worst part of tinkering. When all the numbers agreed, then it was the best feeling on the planet. But, until that moment, he was not feeling up to the maths. 

Klunk must’ve sensed his pause. He mewed from his perch like a king waving down at the peasants below. His eyes tightly shut in sleepy comfort. 

Don chuckled. “Thank you for your input.”

It was only the sound of his voice that made him realise he had spoken out loud. If he had sounded like normal then maybe he wouldn’t have noticed at all. His voice had come alive in his throat easily without any effort. As if everything was totally normal. 

The sound of the sentence was quiet but unmistakably his voice. He sounded rough. His voice hoarse from disuse and the sentence half whispered under a voice crack. 

But even though it was croaky, it was still his voice. He still sounded like himself! 

A worry that he didn’t even realise he had until that very moment. He was still himself. Sitting alone in the lab, he smiled widely. 

Klunk scrambled up and purred the loudest he had ever heard as he determinedly rubbed his head against his own. 

But he had to test himself. Could he replicate the results? Can he talk?

Speaking still felt like trying to lift and balance of tray of plates and cups. Only the tray wasn’t piled high. Rather it was like lifting a tray of delicate wine glasses filled with drink. He took a moment to find his balance before he carefully hoisted the tray into the air. 

“Hello Klunk.”

Klunk purred louder and smooshed their cheeks together.

It was the breakthrough he had been hoping for all this time. Donnie grabbed Klunk from his shoulders and gave him the sappiest, most obnoxious kiss he could. It was the widest he had smiled since the whole nightmare had started. 

“Oh Klunk! What a pretty kitty!” He cooed as he swung them both around. 

There was no anxiety. No heart racing fear or clogged up throat. The words flowed out in harsh uncontrolled chunks. Like a drain that was partially unblocked. The tray to balance was easy. It felt like speaking. Normal, perfectly average, speaking. 

And then it clicked just what this meant. With practised grace, Don hefted Klunk back on to his shoulders as he sat back at his computer. He clicked away his tabs of blueprints and opened up that first research document. 

There had been tons of therapy techniques for learning how to talk to other people but he ignored them at the time since they relied on the idea that he could already talk to someone. They aimed to help people with social anxiety by talking to people they trust and building up to talking to strangers. Most of the advice had been along those lines which was infuriating. 

Shell, the techniques he did choose to pursue still followed that logic. Talking to people over the phone presumed he could talk just not face to face. 

But now all those pages of advice could apply to him. Every door suddenly opened up. Donnie reread his notes with dizzying excitement. 

Talking to Klunk while someone overheard- to help him get used to the idea of people hearing him talk. 

Talk to Klunk with others present and sharing their input. 

Learning to talk to other people beside Klunk through a recall game. 

For the first time in weeks,Don felt truly unstoppable. That familiar rush of fixing a problem filled his heart and lungs. There was nothing holding him back now. He would get better. The light was shining at the end of the tunnel. Nothing could stop him now. 

Chapter Text

Mikey slugged his arm over his shoulder and that should’ve been the sign that something was wrong. His touch was foreign and over friendly for someone who hadn’t dared touch him this entire time. He cheered happily as he dragged him away from The Resistance and into the open street. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was drunk. He stank of acidic alcohol and he was pretty much using Donnie as a means to keep upright. 

Before he could panic about being exposed outside the office building of The Resistance, Mikey noisily kicked up the nearest sewer cover. Its metal clatter echoed through the empty New York streets for anyone to hear. 

Leo and Raph peered back up at them from the bottom of the sewer. Their arms crossed and looking expectant. But they both burst into laughter as Mikey gingerly lowered himself to the ladder and tried clambering down. Donnie didn’t dare say a word until the sewer cover was firmly covering them again. 

Then he exploded. “What are we doing- WOAH!” He gasped as Mikey almost fell off the ladder completely. 

“Easy there, Pisshead,” Raph jeered despite Mikey still veered worryingly to the side. 

“I’d like to see you do better. You just jumped down, cheater,” Mikey whinged.

It was the most like his brother he had sounded this entire time. Despite slurring and mumbling away to himself. 

Don was quick to jump off the ladder to beat Mikey down to the sewer floor, therefore he could catch him if he fell. Though he honestly doubted he could catch him even if he wanted to. But he still paused below the ladder and matched Mikey’s awkward movements. It was a relief when he finally got to the final rung and jumped off. 

They all stood around each other. 

“What are we doing?” Donnie repeated, not bothering to keep the exhaustion out of his voice. 

“Celebrating,” Raph said bluntly. 

No one offered anything else. 

“Celebrating what?” He entertained.

“Ending this. Tomorrow we free New York. A last hurrah,” Leo explained. 

All of his brothers gave each other some kind of look before setting off down the tunnel. 

“Wait! Where are we going?” Donnie asked as he scampered after them. 

“To the place where it all began,” Mikey cheered deliberately, “The place we found you. Seems fitting to end this nightmare where it all began.”

The Lair. 

Don really shouldn’t be doing this. It was unfair to leave the other engineers with finishing off the mech suit he started. Not to mention the work that the Tunneler needed. There was so much work to do. If Chloe wasn’t there then the engineers would be happily complaining away about how lazy he was. He couldn’t afford to waste time by waltzing into the sewer to ‘celebrate’ a victory they haven’t won yet. 

But on the other hand… there was no way he was turning away now. 

He did want to see his brothers. To actually hang out rather than just plan out missions. 

They were laughing. Pushing each other as they bantered. Their voices were loud and happy again. Just like how he remembered them. The sight was mesmerising. Donnie followed after them dazedly like he was being mind controlled. 

The mission tomorrow hung over them all. He should take any chance to slip away and enjoy the presence of his family. He should be happy they were doing this. It was a weird point but surely Leo was right. Surely they should be celebrating before things got serious again. 

But his nerves were adamant. It felt bad to be doing this. Even if it wasn’t weird to celebrate a victory they hadn’t earned yet, this was the worst way to do so. They were just going to be hung over tomorrow which was the one day they needed to be at their best. 

None of his brothers seemed to care about The Resistance bustling madly over their heads. Even the danger of the streets and Shredder’s ever looming presence didn’t stop them from making howling jokes at the top of their lungs. 

Maybe they were already too drunk to realise the danger they were putting themselves in. 

Even more reason to follow them. 

He didn’t recognise these tunnels despite them leading home. That should’ve made him panic and worry but it didn’t. Being secluded in the sewers, knowing they were hidden in the dark far away from people and cars, sent a peacefulness through him. A peacefulness only ruined by his churning anxious stomach as his brothers laughed raucously in the middle of a dictatorship that wanted them dead. Not recognising the tunnels added to the foreboding nervousness he was feeling. The knowledge that they should not be doing this poisoned whatever joy he was trying to find. 

Thankfully, the further they walked and the more turns they took, he began to recognise the way home. 

He didn’t recognise the pile of rubble and rebar as the entrance into their home though. 

Raph patronisingly slapped a hand on to his head and turned him to the destroyed entrance. 

It was exactly how it was when he first landed in this world. Walls had crumbled which caused the room to slump over. This wasn’t a targeted attack but a slow decay leading to an avalanche. It was almost unrecognisable if not for the little scraps of their lives left. His lab in the old train car was crushed from the ceiling. The grey rusted metal flattened so completely that it only peeked out from underneath the rubble. 

Don understood the urge to have a last celebration where it all began. To both mourn and celebrate all the happy memories and moments it took to get to this point. But it just didn’t work. The Lair felt cold and haunted in the worst possible ways. It set his teeth on edge. He did not want to be here. It was like trying to throw a party in an abandoned warehouse. 

The emotion was so raw it was like he was reliving the memory rather than dreaming it. 

Mikey ran ahead. He dug around for something before he came running back with two bottles of whiskey. “Who’s thirsty?”

Leo and Raph accepted them easily. 

Don startled when Raph offered the bottle to him. “I can’t drink that!”

“Why not?” Raph answered immediately. 

“Raph, he’s a kid,” Leo laughed off, doing a terrible job of actually telling him off. 

“Oh yeah, you think the Shredder’s police are upholding the legal age?” Raph jeered. “He’s about to take down the Shredder! Or… he’s about to be killed by the Shredder! I say he’s earned the right to drink.”

Raph thrust the bottle to him and he had to grab it or it would fall. 

But he did not drink from it. “No thanks,” he said derisively. 

He couldn’t stop staring at the corpse of their home yet all his brothers shrugged off the sight with ease. They stepped over piles of rubble like they were stepping over dirty laundry. Eventually they all sat down right in the middle of the atrium- it no longer earned the title of living room. The damage was so extensive that the sunlight from outside beamed down through the cracks and dotted over the rubble. It speckled the ground enough so that they could see but not light up the dingy, dark, death trap of a sewer.

Leo plucked the bottle from his grip and the three of them kept drinking. 

It was awkward. Donnie had never really thought about drinking. They had all tried a sip of Casey’s beer once and all of them had immediately grimaced at the taste. Maybe alcohol really did taste better when you were older. 

They had already been drunk before they dragged him here and they were content to keep drinking. Their voices were somehow getting louder as their senses dulled and conversation flowed easier than it ever had before. It should’ve been an uplifting sight to see his family finally getting on but he despised that it took getting drunk to achieve that. Donnie kept silent. 

This had been what he hoped for when his brothers united. For them to chat and laugh like nothing was wrong. For them to act like how they did in his world. For everything to be normal again. But it just made him angry now. Every little difference between his imagined ideal brothers and the situation now made his blood boil that little bit hotter. 

They were all going to be sick and tired tomorrow when they were doing the biggest mission of their lives. It’s all well and good drinking to celebrate but they had nothing to celebrate. Everyone else in The Resistance was still slaving away with preparations and they were here being idiots. 

“Guys. I think we should go,” Donnie grounded out, arms firmly crossed. But he wasn’t the most commanding of figures on a good day and now it was harder to boss around his brothers who were all 30 years older than him. It made him feel like a child in the worst ways possible. 

“One more hour,” Leo half heartedly appeased. 

“A final cheers!” Raph stood up dramatically and waved around the empty bottle. “To ending this shit show! To all those who fell before us! And to Master Splinter, for having a good taste in drink.”

He spat out Master Splinter’s name, complete with a grimacing scowl. 

Leo tensed up at his sudden change as well. “Drop it, Raph.”

“What?” Raph dropped back down to the floor. His chest puffed out. He looked like he was 15 years old again and picking fights with leo. His whole being was tensed and rearing for an argument. “Am I wrong? He did have a good taste in whiskey.”

“Not that it’s hard to impress you,” Mikey snorted.

“He sacrificed a lot for us.” Leo was stuck between growling and keeping the same faked aloof, easy going tone as Raph. 

“And all I’m thankful for is his whiskey collection,” Raph snorted easily, still eager to fight. 

It was a sudden rush of freezing cold water.

“What?” Donnie breathed out.

But Raph didn’t even look at him. 

The image of dad’s grave was ingrained in his mind. “He died for The Resistance,” Donnie defended, the only thing he could think to say. 

“Something I didn’t ask him to do,” Raph rolled the words out. He took a swig and downed the remnants of whiskey. 

The nauseatingly laid back atmosphere had frozen over.

He floundered over how to respond to that. 

“Don’t get involved, Don,” Mikey warned.

“You’re only saying that cuz Don agreed with me,” Leo shot back. 

“Yeah, our Don. This one might actually see sense,” Raph said. 

There was a very obvious piece of the puzzle he was missing. Something that would usually push him to ask questions and understand what had happened. He never liked not knowing something. But yet it stopped him now. 

Maybe they all had an argument with dad? Maybe something really bad had happened? Was it to do with his disappearance from this world? His mind raced and he really didn’t want to know any answers. 

It was ridiculous but his mind raced to understand which side of the argument to take on the argument he knew nothing about. 

Raph was so bitter. Maybe it hadn’t been that big of an argument and Raph was just holding a grudge. That grudge would’ve twisted the argument into something disgusting and unforgivable- far bigger than the argument itself. 

Mikey was watching everyone carefully from where he was kneeling on the floor. 

Leo stared ahead because he couldn’t look at anyone even if he wanted to. The him in this universe had agreed with Leo defending Master Splinter. That had to count for something?

“I can’t believe you’re still mad about it,” Leo sighed, scrubbing his face. 

“I can’t believe you aren’t mad about it,” Raph growled. “About ‘it’. Jeez, listen to yourself Leo. You can’t even say it! I’m mad at him. He messed up.”

“So it ruins everything he had ever done for us!” Leo spat venomously. “He raised us as a newly mutated rat with no home, no food and still grieving Master Yoshi. And he did a damn good job of it.”

“We stopped being his sons the moment Shredder took over!” Raph yelled. He stormed into Leo’s face with his eyes murderous. 

Donnie never really understood what it felt like to overhear your parents arguing. His brothers argued all the time but that was never a big deal. But he felt like he understood now. They were furious and he was just frozen. He didn’t dare say anything. A fight felt like a hair width trigger away. 

This was his dad they were talking about. Dad who, as Leo said, raised them as best as he could with all of his love. 

This whole time, Don had been presuming that dad had been the same in this nightmare world. Throughout it all, the unrecognisable brothers, Shredder’s reign, that dad had stayed the same. Bright grey fur, kind eyes, always exasperated by their misadventures but always listening. 

Raph got angry and upset easily. But there was always a reason. He wouldn’t disown their own dad for no reason. 

“Drop it guys,” Mikey lazily called out from where he sat. 

Leo and Raph stared off. Raph’s hands were paused over his sais. His eyes flickered as he tried to make eye contact with someone who couldn’t. Maybe he was studying his own reflection in his glasses. 

“He was our dad,” Leo whispered to him. 

“He was our Master,” Raph corrected roughly. 

“We should be heading back anyway. It’s getting late,” Mikey yawned casually. He wasn’t bothered by the argument at all. Probably because this was the second time he was hearing it. 

Donnie’s head was spinning. No one made any movement. They were all content to keep standing off. 

Leo tried to back away first but his own emotions were too loud to ignore. His control slipped as he couldn’t let go of what Raph said. “Even if I did think like you, he should still be your dad. He did nothing to you.”

“For fuck sake’s Leo!” Raph exploded. “How many times have we gotta do this? I am upset that you got hurt cuz of him! Of course that’s gonna affect how I see the guy.”

“You took it a lot more personally than I ever did,” Leo spat back. 

“Mikey’s arm got ripped off! You’re telling me that if you had watched Splinter abandon his position and saw Mikey’s arm get ripped apart… that you would still like the guy. That you would still bother to call him dad. Your face got fucked up because you had to cover him!” Raph yelled out. His words echoed across the wasteland that they once called home. 

Leo stepped to him. “And you got away injury free. I got injured and can say that I loved him. Nothing even happened to you. What are you complaining about?”

Raph lurched and Donnie reacted quicker than he ever thought he could. 

He bolted to stand between them. Raph tried to push him away but Don used his shorter height to duck under Raph’s reach and continue to stand between them. It took all his might but he managed to slightly shove them apart. 

He was panting loud from the effort. The only sound in the collapsed sewer was his breaths. No one was saying a word. Even Mikey had fallen silent as he watched. 

Quietly, he had always wondered what had happened to injure his brothers. But now his stomach squirmed. The only thought scorching and burning through his brain was to please not hear this. He didn’t want to know. Please don’t tell him. His limbs were too heavy to move. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself despite being the only thing stopping Raph and Leo from physically fighting. Somehow this all felt like his fault. 

“And I don’t need you getting mad on my behalf, Raph,” Mikey chimed in. 

Raph stepped away and threw an angry punch at nothing. “You don’t get it!” You guys never got it! Neither of you saw the shit he pulled to get you hurt or what he did after.”

“Leo wasn’t seeing much of anything,” Mikey snorted, making the whole situation worse. 

“Mike,” Leo scolded harshly. 

“He left you guys on the field. Then, when you were both practically comatose afterwards in the hospital, he never bothered to visit. The first time he saw you two after what happened was weeks later!” Raph punched out each sentence like he was currently fighting the Shredder.

Leo snapped forward and grabbed his arm. “He was helping to save other people.”

“And that explains why he never visited?” Raph shot back. 

“I never told you guys that. He never saw you guys in the hospital. He didn’t give a shit! I barely saw him. The only visitors you guys had was me and Don,” Raph panted as he yelled out each word. “I never told you that cuz I didn’t want you to feel worse. You needed support and he couldn’t be bothered to do that.”

“Ooh great. I love when people hide stuff from me for my greater good,” Mikey sarcastically rejoiced.

“And all of this justifies what you did next?” Leo leaned back. 

Donnie whipped around to face Leo. The response completely ignored the heart crushing thing Raph just said but he still reacted as if he had just won the argument. Like that was his mic drop moment. 

Donnie wanted to plug his ears and ask what the shell happened. There’s no way dad did that. He was their dad, not just their martial arts teacher. This was dad! Not just Master Splinter. His mind couldn’t reconcile the dad that cradled Leo through his coma at Casey’s farmhouse and this dad that apparently never bothered to visit Mikey with his fresh amputation. But he shouldn’t be surprised. He couldn’t reconcile this version of his brothers with his own. Of course dad should be no different. 

Dad was dead. They should be honouring his memory and talking about him reverently. But he also wasn’t an idiot. Raph had every right to be upset with his dad acting callously. 

Why would dad ignore them like that?

The anger rippled through Raph. His muscles hunched and shook as he stepped forward. The tension was boiling over. “I don’t regret punching the bastard,” he growled out. 

This time it was Leo who lurched forward. 

Donnie wasn’t as quick since he had been waiting for Raph to throw the first punch. He got to Leo just in time for his punch to connect with his jaw. 

The force of the hit threw him to the side. Mikey didn’t stand up quick enough to catch him from falling to the floor. 

His brain blanked out from the pain. He had been punched before; it wasn’t a new sensation. The blinding ache swallowed up his face. It took far too long for his ears to stop ringing. There was no way Leo had hit him hard enough to concuss him, right? But his whole body tingled and fizzed worryingly as he got up to his feet way too slowly. It was like the punch had knocked him into those overwhelmed episodes he would have. 

Everyone was staring. But not for long. Raph shook out his head and walked out. 

With nothing else to do, they all left too. 

At least the walk back would be in silence. No one was hauling him around under their arm. The drunken cheer had sobered up. Donnie couldn’t tell you if he preferred the silence or the uncanny drunken happiness. 

Before Donnie turned to follow them up the sewer ladder, back to The Resistance and the new normal he had found, Raph grabbed him in an iron grip. 

“I get it. In your world, he’s still your dad,” again the title was spat out, “but he only ever saw himself as your master. Nothing more, nothing less. You need to think about how you see him if he sees you like that.”

“Raph,” Leo scolded.

But Raph was already hauling himself up the ladder. 

Everyone else followed him. 

Donnie wasn’t going to pay any attention to that ‘advice’. As Leo said, dad had sacrificed so much to raise them into the capable and well adjusted adults they were. He wasn’t the most openly affectionate person out there but his love shined through everything he did. He would always be his dad. 

Donnie woke up from the flashback quietly. 

He felt just as sick as when he first had that conversation. The overwhelming anxiety was already sitting in his chest. He woke up feeling the exact same as when he stepped through the portal back home. 

That hadn’t been a dream. Every tiny detail of that had been true. Don fought that world’s Shredder with a swollen jaw that he hoped no one would notice. He had carefully studied the other expecting to see them fighting their hangovers. But they seemed fine. Or maybe they weren’t obvious. They all looked the same as ever. As if the night had never happened at all. 

The memory wouldn’t leave. It was sticky as it clung between the folds of his brain. Memories of the words exchanged clung to his skin. The sight of the Lair was buried deep under his fingernails. Even waking up didn’t scrub the sight from his eyes. Their happy drinken yells and the vicious argument rang in his ears. That same stench of whiskey stung his nose. 

He tried to distract himself. To get rid of the thoughts but there was no point in trying. But it was too sticky. 

He had completely forgotten he had gone back to the Lair after Mikey found him. The memory had been totally absent from his mind. Completely gone like his voice. But he had found this memory again far easier than talking again. 

Don flopped back down and curled back into his covers. The overindulgence choked him but he grit his teeth and tried to ignore it. That one memory unlocked a flood of mundane terrifying moments. He couldn’t stop it. 

He didn’t want to be here. But he didn’t want to be back there either. Don missed when everything was okay and normal. He curled up even tighter under his blankets. 

How many people didn’t even sleep with blankets in The Resistance? Too many people were forced to curl up with only their arms for warmth. When he first arrived, there had been no blanket spare to give him. He had been well fed from his own universe so he was denied rations for the first two days. People needed the food more. Every tiny resource had to be considered before being freely handed out. There wasn’t enough for everyone and he wasn’t going to take something that someone needed more. It was an attitude he couldn’t shake since coming back. 

For the first time since being rescued, Donnie cried about what had happened. This whole time he had been too overwhelmed to cry from his emotions. 

He cried for how scary everything was.

How his family had collapsed.

He sobbed loudly for how his brothers treated him. 

For the poor innocent lives ruined by that dystopia. 

For how scared it had left him. 

He cried for it all. 

Had he stopped talking during that argument? Was asking his brothers if they could leave the last thing he said out loud? Was that memory where it all began? Maybe that was why he suddenly remembered this now. His brain was slowly figuring out why he went mute.

Humiliatingly enough, his door was gently nudged open. He flinched under the covers to hide his breakdown. There was no one else it would be but one of his brothers. This world’s brothers. He didn’t want them to see him. Not like this. Whoever it was, their gaze burned. 

Whoever looked in quickly ran away once they realised he was crying. 

On the plus side, at least whoever it was would pass along the message that he was upset. There wouldn’t be any awkwardness as he tried to power through a bad day and everyone accidentally setting him off. At least now he didn’t need to tell anyone he was feeling bad. 

He had fully prepared to just rot away in his own for the day but, a few moments later, his door opened again. 

“I know! I’m not staying for long!” Mikey whispered to soothe him. 

Donnie didn’t dare face him. But he did frown when he felt a weight gently placed on the hump of his shell. 

“I noticed you two have been hanging out more. Now Klunk, you be nice. Best behaviour, young kitty. Don, be nice to him too. Cats are the world's best listeners and that’s scientific.” Mikey ran out of the room the moment he finished talking. 

Klunk startled at the door closing but he did not care about being shut in. He ‘ mrrp ’ed and gently climbed up over his hunched form. Despite how he was curled up, Klunk easily nosed his way to his face. The moment they made eye contact, Klunk flopped over on top of his head and purred like he was trying to heal him with the sound alone. 

It made him laugh amongst his crying. He gently pushed Klunk off his head so they could both lay on the pillow. 

Donnie unfolded himself enough to stroke along the cat’s back to which Klunk purred even louder in appreciation. 

His fur was silky soft. Long and wild. Don supposed he could try to be poetic but it just wouldn’t work for Klunk. He was a ginger cat with all the associated silliness. A cat who cared a lot but was also utterly captivated with a sponge that they used to wash up. He purred so loudly that it rumbled through his tiny body. Don focused so much on stroking along his back that the memory slowly ebbed away. 

As much as he wanted to wallow, he made himself unbury himself. He wanted to get better and that meant putting in the effort. It took a moment for his voice to come to life but eventually he whispered a little hello to Klunk. 

There was no anxiety and Don had no idea why. Maybe because Klunk wasn’t actually a person? Maybe because Klunk wasn’t expecting him to talk? Perhaps he could talk to Klunk because the Other Universe didn’t have a Klunk. 

Knowing how that world functioned, he was sure that Klunk must’ve died in some pretty awful way. The same as everything else in that world. 

He had to keep talking to Klunk. Don couldn’t keep having bad days and letting himself fall sick. He had to be stronger than that and keep talking. Now that he had unlocked the ability to talk to anyone, he refused to let it go. 

Plus, Mikey was right. Klunk was a great listener. 

“I should probably get up,” he whispered.

Klunk gave him the cat equivalent of ‘yeah, you think?’

That same anxiety crawled up his throat. His scales bristled against the very air of his room. Standing up felt like a monumental task. 

Turn on to his side. Sit up. Get to the end of his bed. Move one leg down the ladder of his loft bed. Then the other leg. 

It was dizzying to think about, let alone do. 

Klunk meowed. He liked to think it was because he was telling him to get a grip. 

Donnie was lucky that Klunk was the only witness to him taking an entire hour to get out of bed. But at least he was up. It took all his strength to walk out of his room to the rest of their home. His only plan was to reach the living room and slowly rot away on the sofa rather than his bed. As he got closer, he found himself daydreaming all over again. 

He could picture Mikey hogging the tv as he played whatever video game had captured his attention. Maybe he was trying to beat Raph’s score on Simpson’s Hit and Run? Or he was still trying to pass that one level on Sonic Heroes until someone took pity on him and tried completing it for him. Splinter would be sitting with him, his whiskers twitching every time he got too loud. 

It was too easy to sink away into these daydreams. But he shook himself free. 

There was no point imagining when he could actually live it. He could walk into the living room and see for himself what was happening. So that was what he did. 

Donnie didn’t expect to see everyone sitting around. Everyone was squished in close as they watched tv while Master Splinter pretended to read (in reality, he was watching just as intensely as they were). Trying not to make a big deal of things, he quickly joined them by sitting on the floor by the sofa. 

Someone made a fuss and tried to get him to sit on the sofa with them but he waved their hands away. He didn’t have the energy to sit with them. Even being in the room felt overwhelming. The memory was slowly bleeding through him again. He felt tainted and he didn’t dare sit with them in case it bled through to them. 

Eventually everyone settled back down and he was left to sit there. No longer alone. Yet he still felt alone. 

Leo had hit him and never said a word. 

Mikey spurred the argument on with his stupid comments. 

Dad had… Splinter had never visited his sons when they were hurt. And in doing so, hurt his remaining sons. 

These weren’t truths. They were true in that Other World but he knew, deep down in his heart, he knew that they wouldn’t be true in this world. 

For the first time, Donnie was confident that this timeline wouldn’t become that world. Maybe Shredder was destined to rule over New York but his family wouldn’t collapse like that. He wouldn’t disappear on them. They would stay together. 

A hand settled on his shoulder. Leo was smiling but in that way that he did when he was worried sick and trying to power through. “Is there anything we can do to help?” Leo… begged?

Don stared at him as the cogs in his brain tried to crunch through the words up into something understandable. 

“Uh… sorry. You can’t answer that. I didn’t mean to ask you something you can’t respond to. Sorry,” Leo rambled before harshly cutting himself off. 

Donnie was too busy staring dazedly forward to notice how Leo’s face screwed up in anguish and regret. He only noticed how his brother sat back down uneasily. 

He knew he should say something. His brain fizzed out. Everything turned numb at the mere suggestion. Okay, definitely can’t respond in any way. Maybe try patting his knee to let him know that everything was okay?

But his body couldn’t process the demands. 

Instead, he settled to leaning against the sofa uneasily too. The least he could do was enjoy hanging out with his family knowing that was the right thing to do. 

He took comfort from the fact that he really doubted that his world would become like that other world. It was only a doubt, not something he was confident in. But that doubt was something to cling to. A piece of driftwood to stop him from drowning. 

He took comfort knowing that he had to keep pushing himself to recover. 

He took comfort knowing he could still talk to Klunk. Tangible, irrefutable evidence that he was recovering. 

Don disappeared into his own head as the bad day swallowed him whole but there was relief to know that his family was right behind him.

Chapter Text

After re-remembering that horrible memory, Don felt like he had a major breakthrough. Another piece of the puzzle revealed. 

His mutism was surely caused by that argument, right? He had been scared to talk during that argument with his Other Brothers and then never spoke again! It was the why to his whole problem. Surely now that he knew why he was acting like this, he could fix everything. 

But if that was the case, then this theory came with some uncomfortable connotations. If he was mute because of an argument with his brothers, did that mean he was scared of them? Were his brothers really the root cause of his problems? 

As much as he wanted to say ‘of course not’, he couldn’t hide from reality. That argument had really freaked him out. It genuinely worried him that Leo had hurt him and never even apologised. If the argument caused his mutism then that would explain why sometimes his brothers could send him tumbling deeper into his panic. Maybe that even explained why sometimes their presence helped and sometimes it made things worse. His brain was stuck between being afraid of them and also wanting to be close to them again. 

But on the other hand, he had entirely forgotten that the argument had even happened. Why would a memory he didn’t remember cause him not to talk? Plus why would that one argument set him off so badly? Leo and Raph fought all the time and never bothered him. Shell, since he was back he had seen them argue during training, bicker during meal times and shoot each other death glares across the room. And all those times he never felt scared or anxious. Don wasn’t worried that an argument like that would break out in his own dimension. 

Those Other Brothers were nothing like his own. There was no reason to be worried. 

So, knowing that he had uncovered something but not the whole story, Don threw himself back into therapy.

He had written out a timeline of his recovery and the steps he needed to do next:

Keep speaking to Klunk.

Speak to Klunk and let others overhear- builds confidence to talk to others. - practise this for a week??

Try out phone call technique again? Think of it as talking to Klunk? - practise for another week? Five successful phone calls?

Gradually build up to doing recall exercise until able to talk like normal - how to gradually do this??

Note: can I talk to strangers or do I feel weird about everyone??

That first step he had nailed. He had continued talking to Klunk pretty much everyday. Occasionally he would break his streak with a bad day but he was focusing more on the achievement. Currently, he was on his eighth day in a row talking to Klunk. He had discussed this entire timeline to Klunk already. 

The recall exercise he was fascinated by and that was his end goal at the moment. Obviously his goal was to get talking again but that felt so far off and impossible still. The recall exercise felt more manageable. 

The exercise depended on being able to talk in the presence of other people at least. A speech therapist or other trusted figure would sit with the patient and recall something that could be easily recited by the patient. All the websites he found used the alphabet or counting to ten. Something that required absolutely no thought. The patient and the other figure would take it in turns going through the alphabet or counting. This simulated a conversation- saying something, another person responding, then responding to that- without causing any stress since they were only doing something as basic as counting. 

Don had happily discussed this with Klunk with audible excitement in his voice. That was his aim. The past few days, he joked around trying to do the exercise with Klunk but of course it wasn’t the same. As smart as Klunk was, it wasn’t like he could talk back. 

He could recognise that he was getting ahead of himself but it was hard to contain his excitement now that he was actually talking out loud. 

But the next step he should take was clear. 

Talk to Klunk and let other people overhear him. Teachers wrote tearful blog posts about hearing mute children talk for the first ever time through this method. A speech therapist would go through some exercises with the child and the teacher would be instructed to listen in from another room. The child would be aware of the teacher listening and thus helped them get used to the idea of people listening to them without having to face it directly. 

Don was beginning to realise that a lot of therapy was just creating a slippery slope into a normal behaviour. 

All those hours of research, the new techniques he studied now that he had been talking to Klunk… he should put his theory to the test. 

Which was easier said than done. 

The thought of actually doing this sent a lightning shock through his system. His heart skipped a beat so it could cut straight to jolted hammering. 

He had tried over the past few days, but it was awkward. It was hard to find a situation where he was holding Klunk and also everyone else was around him. Klunk only really joined him in his lab, any other time was spent scampering after Mikey. And even in his lab, the others tended to leave him be. It had always been his space. And a space where he did dangerous experiments on top of that. Sometimes Mikey or Raph would poke their head in but never for long. Mikey would get bored and Raph usually came in to help with something. 

His only option was to orchestrate a moment where he would be with Klunk and for someone to walk in. He grabbed a sheet of paper to start planning out potential plans. It would have to seem natural. Would he rather get everyone in the lab at the same time to get it over with or go one at a time? Hmm, plenty of positives and negatives for both of those options…

“Heya Don.”

Don startled and immediately shoved all of his notes into the nearest drawer with all the panic of a little kid pretending to be asleep. 

Not that Raph noticed anything was odd. He waltzed into the garage with a friendly wave before he headed over to his bike. Totally not noticing anything weird about him since he had stolen Mikey’s headphones and was distracted humming along with whatever song he was listening to. He wasn’t carrying his helmet with him so he wasn’t going for a ride to clear his head. 

It was normal for them both to work together: either in peace and quiet or loud, fun banter. Today Raph was obviously going work on his bike in peace and quiet. 

Of course.

They hadn’t bantered together since he came back. Don partially blamed himself because he couldn’t banter easily when having to write everything down. But also… he had tried. He handed Raph joking notes previously but it was like he had forgotten how to respond. Every moment in the garage together was awkward and forcibly silent. Don hated it.

And Klunk was curled up in the middle of his crossed legs. 

Now would be the perfect time to enact his research. 

No need to organise a moment when it had quite literally dropped in unannounced. 

Like Splinter said, he couldn’t get lost trying to find the absolute perfect moment. If he could try and help himself right now, then he should. 

It was just them in the garage. No one else was likely to come up. He was having a good day in terms of emotions. Right now was the perfect time to try his next step. 

He had to bite down on his guilt that Raph would be the first person to hear him talk. Though surely it was far worst to pick which family member he liked most to talk to first. But his heart genuinely ached that he couldn’t make it up to Mikey. It hurt to know that he was expecting Raph to carry even more of his struggles. 

He was getting ahead of him. This might not even work! It probably wouldn’t work! The most likely scenario was that he works himself up to talk, doesn’t do it, and then that ruins the rest of his day. Plus, this wasn’t exactly how the technique went. Raph was supposed to be in a different room overhearing him. Knowing his luck, he would start talking and Raph would interrupt him with a ‘huh? Whaddya say?’

But he desperately wanted it to work. He wanted nothing more than to talk to his family again (a line of thinking that didn’t exactly match his theory that he stopped talking because he was scared of them after the fight). There was no option for failure. This technique had to work. He couldn’t deal with the heart ache from his failed phone calls. Since talking to Klunk, it had made him itchy and desperate to recover fully. 

Donnie remained stiffly facing his desk with his back to Raph. His brother’s footsteps padded through the garage, his footsteps soft but not hidden. Without looking at him, Donnie mentally tracked exactly where he went. Raph walked over to grab the toolbox and brushed and then back to his bike. 

This wasn’t helping. He shouldn’t be paying attention to Raph. His research said to focus on himself and try not to focus on the person listening in. 

Yet Raph was like the elephant in the room. How was he supposed to ignore him now that he knew he was there! He was this burning presence in the room, filling the garage with smoke and his flames filled the room. He was right there and listening in and he was expecting him to talk and he can’t do this-

Klunk mewed softly in his lap, flopping over to expose his tummy to ask for pets. Because how dare he have a freakout when there was a cute cat that needed petting. 

His fur was smooth and full under his hands. Mikey had done an incredible job pampering him from a matted, scruffy, street cat into the cat today. 

Maybe it was because they never had a pet until now but it always fascinated him how delicate he felt. Don could feel his chest and stomach rise under his breathing. His little paws were tiny against his hand. 

Donnie steadied himself and pried his attention away from his brother. Theory into practice. This was the whole reason he kept talking to Klunk. He can’t chicken out now. 

With a thundering heartbeat and sweaty palms (poor Klunk deserved so much better pets), Don thought of what he wanted to say and tried talking to Klunk. 

Rather predictably, his voice didn’t come easily. The soothing coo he had planned to say to Klunk never came. It was the same sensation as when he tried to talk to his family. Like his voice had simply disappeared. Absent from his body. Nothing. 

Raph had started unscrewing parts of his bike to give it the full clean it needed. He would be cleaning and greasing his chain so he would only be here in for about 20 minutes, roughly. Not much time to battle through and start talking, his mind cruelly reminded him. The clock was ticking and he was wasting time. 

Don struggled to get his thoughts back under control. It wasn’t like Raph was making much noise so it was easy to pretend he wasn’t there. Focus only on Klunk. He had gone over his notes so much that the exercise felt scarred into his eyes. He needed to put theory into practice. 

No matter what, he would speak right now. He would prove that he wasn’t scared of his brothers. That argument wouldn’t define his life. 

He applied the same relaxation techniques that Splinter taught him for meditation. Slow and careful breathing to slow his heart rate and calm his body. Don blocked out all other distractions from his mind and honed in on Klunk’s comforting presence. His warm little body stretched out in his lap. How his whiskers tickled across his legs. The little biscuits he was kneading into his calf. 

Don kept stroking Klunk and thought really hard about what he wanted to say. 

It was like trying to get a match to light. His voice was scarily absent but he kept striking the box. He struggled to find the right grip to carry the overstacked tray. 

He was just speaking to Klunk. Nothing more, nothing less. Something he had done quite a few times now. It was easy. He knew it was easy. Just do it again. 

It took a painfully long time but eventually he felt it again. His voice stuck in his throat. The sensation of being on the cusp of talking. But the words caught in his mouth. The words hummed together into a sticky mass that pressed against the roof of his mouth. He felt physically sick trying to talk. 

He had the tray of dishes balanced on his shoulder. All he had to do was carry it. 

He kept breathing. Had to keep breathing. As Master Splinter taught him, in for six, hold for six, then out for six. 

It took his body a second to obey the command. But he started mouthing along to what he wanted to say. Hopefully it would help unclog the words. 

Klunk batted at his hand playfully. 

Eventually, his voice gained the strength to battle through. 

The piles and piles of dishes on the tray were heavy and balanced awkwardly. All his concentration had to go towards keeping the balance. Not a single stray thought. His entire being was focused on the balancing act to bring his voice back. Wobbling to the left, then overcorrecting to the right. 

The first half of the sentence was lost under the hoarse break of his voice. The other half was whispered out brokenly. It’s no use. I think I “...will have to…” go to the “junkyard.”

Klunk perked up at his voice despite his computer probably humming louder than he was speaking. He stared up at him with his big blue eyes. Encouraging as always. 

Don chuckled. “You do know that means…” I can’t “t-take you with me? You’ll have to get off my lap.”

The work he had meant to be doing before getting distracted with therapy again was getting the resources to reinforce the Lair. In reality, he had come to the conclusion of having to go to the junkyard hours ago but he could pretend that he had just realised that. 

Distantly, he was aware that Raph’s movements had completely stopped.

His voice sounded so bad. It was enough to make him wince at the sound. He sounded so weak and hoarse. A scraping whisper against his voice. It felt weird to mourn a part of himself but it was the closest to how he felt. 

He used to speak like it was nothing. Because it was nothing! Those tiny sentences took almost ten minutes to actually form. Speaking had become this huge burden to fight against. The act ravaged his body and mind. 

He never thought much about his own voice. It got the job done. Wasn’t the prettiest voice out there but he could sing pretty good so that was something. While his croaky voice was stil undeniably his own, it still felt odd. It was a reminder that he was now a sicker, weaker version of himself. He truly mourned his ability to talk.

Which was ridiculous to think about. He was going to recover his speech again. This was all temporary. He would recover. He would get better. One day, he would be able to fill the Lair with his pretty good singing. 

Can’t get trapped “in my own head,” Donnie chided himself. “I need to go…” on a junkyard “trip. I’ll wait to go til s… s.”

Fuck. He was losing it. His anxiety hadn’t let up this whole time and it swelled at that moment. It clogged his throat faster than the words could unclog it. His balancing act was coming undone as he tilted dangerously to the side with the tray. 

He desperately wanted to get the word out. Just spit it out if he had to. The word was right there. Stuck behind his teeth. But his head throbbed. Everything within him was screaming not to. He had already said enough. Please. But also just this one last word. Please, just get it out. It was the same sensation that stopped you from stepping off a building’s roof. Such a strong mental block that it might as well have been a physical brick wall stopping you. 

“S… su- sundown.”

Klunk purred, in agreement probably.

He heard Raph get up.

That was his breaking point. This was so awful. Why was it so hard to talk to his own family? His brain was stuck screaming at him for daring to speak. A cacophony of blaming thoughts yelled at him for talking. He didn’t want to be scared of his family. He didn’t want that stupid fight he had to stop him from his real brothers. Donnie violently tipped over into his anxiety. His voice vanishing into thin air. 

He must’ve jostled Klunk in his panic because the cat stood up suddenly and started climbing up his plastron. 

He was hyperventilating suddenly. His hands shook too hard to properly grab at his own throat. The panic erupted through his body worse than ever before. It punched through his throat and stole the oxygen from his lungs. 

Raph grabbed his hands before he could instinctually put them to his throat. 

His brother looked at him in shocked amazement. He had never looked prouder. 

Not that Donnie was paying attention to that. He tried to turn away from his brother. 

“Easy there, Don. Easy. It’s okay.”

For some reason, the anxiety eased up. The anxiety faded as Raph grabbed his shoulders. His older brother soothed over the angry, petrified thrashing of his anxiety. Raph’s words did actually work to calm him down. It made no sense. Why was it sometimes his brother’s presence sent him spiralling and other times it calmed him down? None of this made sense!

But Donnie didn’t get to question it for long. He treasured having control back over his breathing. His chest loosened. 

Soon he was back looking at Raph, having to confront his look of sheer joy. “That was incredible, Don! You spoke!”

Told you I could fix it, Donnie wanted to say. Hopefully his look conveyed that enough. 

Raph laughed back. “You actually did it! And you spoke like, actual sentences. Entire sentences, not just words.”

I always was an overachiever, he wanted to reply.

Raph didn’t warn him before ripping up from the chair and into a frantic hug. He bounced him awkwardly before deciding to really give up all pretences. Don had no time to prepare before Raph was picking him up and spinning him around. 

In a better world, Donnie laughed and yelled at Raph to put him down. But instead, he slapped Raph’s shell to say the same message. 

Raph dropped him to the floor. His wide grin immediately dropping. “Oh, uh. Shell. I’m not meant to make a big deal over you talkin’, right? Aw, shell. Sorry Don.”

This time, Donnie took immense glee in being the one to body slam his brother into a hug. 

He could do this. He was going to fix this. 

Of course he wasn’t satisfied with letting just Raph overhear him. 

Which meant there were a lot more failed attempts. A lot of him sitting next to his family with the cat before sighing and disappearing back into his lab. Each time he tried to join them on the sofa or to watch them train, he couldn’t block them out enough to talk to Klunk. Plus, the kitty would get too restless with his owner sitting right there. Nothing was working. 

He had to find a way for them to walk in on him rather than him walk in on them. 

You know… actually following the therapy technique he was trying. 

He had asked (through writing down a note, annoyingly enough) that Raph doesn’t tell anyone that he managed to speak. Maybe he was being too cocky but he knew he would talk to the others soon and wanted it to be a surprise. 

His first attempt culminated in Mikey waking up one day with a note on his bed saying that there was a brand new invention that needed testing in the garage. 

The idea being that Don could work up to talking with Klunk and Mikey would walk in on it. 

Mikey, as soon as he read that note, spring up out of bed and immediately booked it to the garage. 

“Testing Don’s new thingy, will make breakfast when I’m back!” Mikey rambled out as he ran past the kitchen. He just managed to see Leo and Splinter sitting there and seeing them deflate at having to wait longer for food. 

With unnecessary flair, Mikey catapulted himself over the rails and through the Lair. Somersaulting into the elevator, he pressed the button for the garage and waited for the door to gently close. 

From Mikey’s perspective, it had been far too long since there was a new invention he could test. Don had been way too busy with boring science like reinforcing the tank and other such stuff. He had been waiting for the moment of new machines and weapons! Because any new machine had to be put through the ‘Mikey Test’. 

Don really should’ve seen it coming. Mikey bounded into the garage like an excitable puppy. There was no chance to go through the build up of talking to Klunk. Mikey had come in way too early.

Mikey kicked down the door and bolted straight to him. He grabbed his shoulders and jumped up and down. “Hey Don! So new tech? What’s the new tech! Oh hey baby Klunk, I didn’t see you there. But Don! Tech?”

There was no way Donnie could do his exercise now. Instead of letting it get him down, he quietly laughed at the whole situation. He waved Mikey over to the new Turtle Tank attachments. 

He would have to plan something out better. 

This time, he focused on getting Leo to overhear him. 

Rather than leaving a note, he decided to leave it up to fate. He had to orchestrate this whole situation but he couldn’t plan it out as detailed as he did with Mikey. It was more natural than leaving a note and similar to how he ended up speaking to Raph. 

Donnie’s grand plan was to work in the dojo all day but not tell anyone what he was doing. Therefore making it very likely someone was to walk in on him. 

This also served a dual purpose. 

He really did need to get to work in the dojo. Weak points in the room had to be assessed and then figuring out how to reinforce all the walls and ceiling. Out of all the work he needed to do since seeing that nightmare world, this was going to be the hardest. It was pretty easy to reinforce vehicles or make stronger weapons. But reinforcing a sewer was going to be interesting. Don was an engineer, not an architect. 

But he couldn’t keep putting it off. The least he could do was take measurements and figure out a game plan. Maybe get round to installing that sprinkler system he had been thinking about for years. It was important to start with the dojo since the room led directly to Master Splinter’s room. If anything happened then he would be trapped.

And that world had shown him that this Lair could collapse. Shell, their very first home collapsed from the Mousers. He needed to make sure this one was stable. 

The other purpose to this was to help himself recover. And this plan was the most likely way for Leo to overhear him. At some point, Leo could poke his head in for his own training regime or to meditate. The added beauty to this plan was the fact that he would have no clue when Leo would come in. He wouldn’t have to block out his presence like he had to with Raph. His brother could appear at any moment.

“Downside. Now I have to keep talking out loud just in case he walks by,” he grumbled to himself. 

This whole plan felt shakier the more he committed to it. He was having to continuously talk just in case and this whole idea hinged on the idea that Leo wouldn’t run the moment he saw him. 

Don wasn’t blind. He could see that Leo was avoiding him. Any time they were together, it was painfully awkward. He was the first to leave the room whenever he walked in. Breakfast became awkward now that Leo refused to look in his direction. It was like Leo had no idea what to say to him now that he was mute. Which was ridiculous. The others had no problem talking to him. Well, okay, Mikey didn’t have a problem talking to him since he mute.

It hurt that Leo was acting like this. Before he discovered the term mutism, before even Mikey told him that he hadn’t spoken since coming back, Leo had been his biggest help in feeling normal again. His eldest brother had been determined to carry him back to normalcy. Whether that be the morning meditations with Master Splinter, always sitting with him for breakfast, wishing him goodnight each night, Leo was there. Leo had been there. He was the brick wall to take shelter behind. 

Until he realised he was mute. Now Leo pulled away at every chance and Donnie didn’t have a voice to ask why. 

But deep down… disgustingly, Don was also relieved that he had kept his distance. It felt like everyone was waiting anxiously for the moment he spoke again. Waiting for the moment he appeared before them fully cured. Which was going to happen any time soon. It felt like none of them realised just how much it hurt trying to speak every time he saw them. Their expectations were heavy to carry. Their stares behind his back stung. 

It was nice to have one less person to worry about. 

Donnie hated that he thought that. He missed Leo. The negatives of never seeing his brother far outweighed any relief he got. 

Klunk was weaving around the feet as he measured the last wall of the dojo. Something a good engineering assistant would not do but Donnie was trying to teach him. 

“Maybe if I keep talking, I’ll lose the frog in my throat,” he said. His voice had been croaky every time he tried to speak and it had yet to alleviate. No matter how hard he tried to clear his throat, his voice remained croaky.

If anything, it felt like his voice was getting sorer from how much he was talking. A ridiculous notion considering he had spoken for less than ten minutes total. 

Before this, he could ramble until the cows came home. Mikey had timed him once and said that he could fill a university lecture. Looking back, maybe Mikey was trying to make fun of him but he had taken it as a genuine complement. 

His throat felt scraped raw by his few words. Someone had better walk past soon because there was no way he could keep doing this. “I’ll have to build that tolerance back up. Should be easy enough if you don’t mind me chatting to you, buddy.” Donnie leaned down and petted Klunk’s head. 

He stepped back from his work before remembering that he needed to keep talking. “Okay so this is a mecurate instrument, it’s used to test if something is aligned up. See that air bubble? If it’s between those two lines then we know it’s straight. That’s called a spirit level.” Donnie pointlessly kneeled down and presented the tool to Klunk. 

Klunk sniffed it. Exactly once. The bare minimum effort to show his interest. 

A set of footsteps padded past the dojo. 

His voice wobbled embarrassingly. “I… uh, we-”

Whoever it was paused outside. 

But his voice was choked out by his anxiety. Someone was actually listening in to him. Actually listening in to his ramblings. Breathing felt impossible. 

Klunk mewed loudly. Really loudly and drawn out. 

He concentrated on his breathing. He just needed to concentrate on Klunk. The little kitty had certainly demanded he finish his sentence. 

“I… I don’t need to use that now. But will do later. When I… Actually start working.” His voice came out barely louder than a whisper. The anxiety refused to let him be louder. Someone was listening to him. 

The anxiety had come on so suddenly that Donnie had no idea how to find the balance act of his words. He just couldn’t find the rhythm of breathing through his anxiety and continuing talking. 

The person listening in didn’t make a sound. Although his mind already pieced together who it was. 

He tried to stop that thought before it could start. He was talking to Klunk. No one else. His words didn’t matter because he was just talking to Mikey’s cat. About all the work he was going to have to do. 

“I would need to rip-” out the “p-plaster.”

Klunk stepped back with him to review the room as a whole. 

He huffed out a weak laugh. “Dad will ha- uh, I…”

The tray of dishes tipped over. He had to dive to grab some of the plates and cups. Glass and china smashed to the floor but he managed to salvage only a few pieces.

He cleared his throat. The pain of his sore throat was sharp and pronounced. “Master Splinter won’t like that much.”

The person listening in approached the door. Don heard their shell scrape against the wall as they slid down to the floor to watch. 

Balancing the tray never felt harder. He had to give up pretences that he was just mumbling to himself as he worked. He too slid down to the floor as his breathing got worse. Klunk immediately pounced into his lap. 

Sorry. He apologised to Klunk. Need to “g-get a grip.”

“This is the most I’ve talked to you. I… don’t want to stop…” Don had no idea who he was talking to with that sentence. Which was his downfall. 

Everything crashed down and his voice fell into the abyss. 

He turned and faced Leo since there was no point in pretending anymore. But he was surprised to see Mikey was there instead. 

Maybe it was the panic but he struggled to process seeing Mikey. Mikey sitting there alone. No one with him. Don could’ve sworn that it was Leo listening in. He thought that he recognised everyone’s footsteps? 

But that wouldn’t change reality. Mikey was the one standing by the doorway. Staring at him sat huddled in the middle of the dojo. They made eye contact and a million different things were said in their gaze alone. 

Mikey stepped into the room with actual tears beading in his eyes. He sniffed theatrically. “That was beautiful.”

That one playful remark zapped the anxiety away so quickly that it left him literally breathless. The crushing weight was lifted as if Mikey had literally plucked it off his chest. Don rolled his eyes playfully back, grinning widely too. 

“Though I do think it’s animal abuse to teach Klunk to be an engineer. My little baby is gonna be an artist!” Mikey waltzed into the room and sat down heavily beside him. He wasted no time in stealing back Klunk and cradling him closely.

It was obvious how much hearing him talk meant to Mikey, but he was playing it off coolly. There was no pressure to talk again. His little brother was poking fun and letting the fact he talked drift away easily. It was exactly what Donnie wanted. The anxiety had no chance to return as they both focused on other things. 

Mikey launched into some ramble and Don pressed into his side. The anxiety had left him utterly exhausted. He couldn’t help but close his eyes and float away with Mikey’s rambling. 

Unbeknownst to Donnie, Mikey was desperate to keep the conversation going. Otherwise Don would surely ask where Leo went. Shell, Mikey was glad to keep talking to him otherwise he would’ve ran after Leo and said something regrettable. It was hard to shake off his anger but he firmly kept up his goofy smile.

“I believe that is the end of our session,” Master Splinter’s deep rumbling voice stirred him from his meditation. 

The routine was that he would wait a few moments to see if Donnie would speak unprompted. That was his window of time to see if this would work. 

Don kept his eyes closed and let himself fall back into his trance. His meditation was always so deep that he lost track of the world around him. He would lose sight that even Master Splinter was next to him. Meaning it would be a great time to push his new Klunk technique to its extreme. 

He had spoken when Raph was across the room from him. Then to Mikey while he sat just outside the room. This time he would talk with Master Splinter right next to him. 

He only had a few minutes until Master Splinter would ask if he wanted to talk. Only a few minutes to sink back under and talk to Klunk. 

Thankfully, the calm abyss like meditation swallowed him whole quickly. Splinter hadn’t woken him from his trance fully. Leo and Splinter often spoke of seeing visions or flashes of someone’s life during meditation but it wasn’t like that at all for him. The only way he could describe it was like if he fell asleep but was conscious that he had fallen asleep. It was endless and deep but none of it frightened him. He treasured being able to make his mind go silent. 

But it was actually really hard to float away in his meditation while also remaining grounded enough to focus on Klunk. There was no way he could try to talk while meditating but he didn’t dare surface from the trance. 

Once again, it was another aspect to balance. To be deep enough in meditation that he wasn’t anxious but not so deep that he lost track of talking to anyone. 

Don was starting to get sick of all these things to balance. 

His mouth remained firmly jammed shut. But the words bubbled up pretty easily. Much easier than any other time he tried to conjure up the words. 

His dad was sitting right next to him. A fact that he just couldn’t ignore no matter how hard he closed his eyes. 

His countdown was still ticking away. He was running out of minutes to start talking. His father would only sit there in silence for so long. 

A bead of sweat rolled down his brow. 

The dojo was silent as they both waited for something to happen. Even Klunk felt tense. For the first time, it felt like Klunk was also expecting him to talk. Another judging pair of eyes watching him. 

He wanted to talk to his dad. An all consuming desire that overpowered him. Don wanted to be the five year old he was acting like. He wanted to run up to his dad and tell him about the nasty nightmare world he went to. 

His skin prickled hard enough to physically hurt. The words stuffed his mouth. His tongue swelled up in his throat. The crack of his jaw as he wrenched open his mouth echoed in the dojo. Another bead of sweat dribbled down his temple. 

He didn’t have to say much. Just a few words. Maximum. Enough to show him how far he had come. Any progress was good. Just say something. Throw the tray across the room if he had to. Whatever it took. 

“Would you like to try talking n-”

“Talking. Just talk already.”

They both said at the same time. 

Donnie threw his eyes open and the real panic began. His body shut down to recover. Although there was no reason to, he started crying. 

Dad… Master Splinter tilted his head to face him. But he couldn’t face the sight. He screwed up his eyes childishly. The anxiety ravaging his body was the worst it had been all week. All month. It didn’t let up now that he had stopped talking. Usually stopping his attempt at talking would make him feel okay again. 

This was the first time he realised that he felt so much worse for talking. It wasn’t just the act of talking. He wished he could take his words back. It felt like he had done something unspeakably evil. Despite no longer talking, Donnie clasped a hand over his mouth. His nervous system screamed at him for doing something so awful. 

He had spoken. The golden rule had been broken. He had actually talked out loud to someone. It felt like he was dying. Like everyone he knew was dying. 

Don just couldn’t get a hold of his breath. He curled up into a ball. 

But Master Splinter pulled at his limbs. “Stretch out, my son. Curling up will only restrict your breathing and make you feel worse,” Splinter said, his own voice panicked and scared.

It was only because of Splinter literally pulling him back open that he followed those instructions. He laid across the floor on his back. Stretching out his body like that forced his panicked breaths to reach deeper. He could feel his body instinctually pulling back control from his panic. 

It was a few minutes later that he felt the fear slip away, leaving him numb and tired. Eventually, he even found the strength to find his dad’s gaze. 

Instead of the joy his brothers had, Master Splinter looked at him with worry. “My son… you should not push yourself so harshly. You were unable to breathe.”

Don looked away. Okay, his freakout looked bad but he should be pushing himself. He would never recover if he went with the easiest route. It wasn’t fair to talk to his brothers and then not speak to Splinter. 

“I am honoured to hear you speak again,” Splinter laid a hand over his chest, “but I would’ve been just as honoured had you waited months. Even years. I ask you again, why are you rushing yourself to get better?”

Master Splinter had already waited months for him to talk. The exaggerated claim he was making had already come true. He was almost at two months of being mute. And there was certainly no way that Donnie was waiting an entire year to speak with his loved ones. He refused.

He shook his head. Shaking his head wasn’t enough to convey what he wanted to say but there was no other choice.

The only sound in the dojo was his panting as he tried to steady his breath. It was silent in a way the dojo never was.

Splinter seemed to pick up on what he meant anyway. He was always magic like that. “My son. I never want to see yourself driven to that point again.”

His hands were gentle on his shoulders. As if he was afraid to grip him too hard or else he’d shatter. It was such a stark contrast from the blood boiling through his veins and thundering heartbeat. Don had clawed and screamed his way into talking. And now Splinter wanted to gently coax out why he had done that. It felt wrong. Dissonant. 

Master Splinter clucked his tongue and tugged him into his side. He was far too big to curl into his dad’s side anymore. Standing up, Splinter barely came up to his shoulder. But somehow his dad never got the memo. 

“I ask you again, why the rush?”

And there was no answer he could give. His answer hadn’t changed since the last time he was asked. He still needed to get talking so that he could go out on missions, so he could defeat his mind telling him that everything was going to end. But feeling each second that passed as he struggled to get better, had given him a much sappier answer. He wanted to talk to his family again. 

Because I want to talk again.

Everything he wanted to say haunted him. Sentences unsaid fluttered around his head; the beat of their wings were obnoxious. 

Klunk mewed and batted at his chest as if he could see them too. It was the only time through this whole ordeal that he even noticed the cat’s presence. 

Splinter sighed heavily. “Donatello. I… have been considering something of late…”

Don sat up to hear this. He had never heard Splinter to speak so uncertainly. 

“I have a friend in Japan. He has helped many through all kinds of struggles. But I’ll admit that I do not know if he had encountered someone who’s unable to talk,” Splinter trailed off, lost to his thoughts. But he soon caught himself. 

“He might be able to help you.”

Don was too emotionally hung over to properly process something like this. It was an offer of actual help. To have someone else help rather than him playing both doctor and patient. But it also sounded like Splinter was sending him away. If his anxiety felt like this with his family, what if it got worse with a stranger. 

“But I have to confess, he may not be able to help. Personally, I don’t think he would be great at handling your unique problem. But I cannot deny that he has helped so many people before,” Splinter stumbled over his words and nervously stroked his own chin. 

Donnie nodded to show he was listening.

Master Splinter shook out his head. “Perhaps it’s something to consider and let me know what you think later.”

That sounded like a good decision. He wasn’t in the right mindset to make that kind of drastic decision. 

Don nodded and nuzzled into his fur before withdrawing from the hug. 

“Good. Will you be okay going to bed?”

Again, he nodded.

“Then allow a sentimental old man to walk his son back to his room?” Splinter weakly joked.

He appreciated the light heartedness of his joke but it wasn’t enough to break the weird atmosphere that swallowed them both.