Chapter Text
The silence is telling as they stumble back into the lair, thick and cloying in a way that makes all of their scutes tingle with the need to break it even as they try to ignore it entirely. Mikey knows, logically, that it’s his job to ease up the tension and start slowly lowering everything back to reasonable levels of quiet, instead of this roaring silence, but the scene from earlier keeps replaying in his head and he can’t quite get it to stop.
It’s not like they’ve never faced guns- shell, the Kraang shot them with alien laser rifles nearly every time they went out- but it’s never pleasant to have an actual pistol pulled on one of them. The Purple Dragons weren’t exactly known for playing fair, and it shouldn’t have been that big of a surprise, but it still sent a tremor of fear through Mikey when he saw the glint of dull metal too dissimilar to a blade. Said tremor turned into full blown panic once he realized it was aimed at Leo.
Before the trigger was pulled, Donnie had bodily shoved Leo out of the way, yelping almost as loud as the gunshot as a spray of red bursts from somewhere- somewhere too close to his head but Mikey couldn’t see, couldn’t tell if his brother was still-
Leo’s katanas clanged as he dropped them, practically teleporting back to Donnie’s side and he shouting something at him. Once the first edges of terror cleared, Mikey had been able to see that the bullet had just grazed the top of Donnie’s shoulder, even if it was dangerously close to his neck. Raph had, of course, proceeded to make the Purple Dragon who took the shot regret it in very short order, along with the rest of the gang, before barking out a retreat order.
No one disagrees with Raph when he calls a retreat order simply because it doesn’t happen unless it’s bad. If he feels the need to force them to fall back, even Leo listens. They had quickly sheathed their weapons, Raph grabbing forgotten katanas as Leo pressed a hand to Donnie’s wound and rushed to a manhole cover. The walk back was just as silent as the lair is now and everything still feels overwhelming and-
“Leo, take Donnie to the lab, get him checked and disinfect the wound. Mikey, you wanna take first shower?” Raph’s voice brings everything back into focus, breaking the silence. Immediately, as if snapping out of a stupor, Leo leads the way to the first aid supplies. Donnie trails after him without complaint as he holds a hand to his shoulder, though he does pause to give Raph and Mikey a reassuring smile. The way he follows it up with a badly stifled wince does not really help.
While Mikey does sort of feel like standing under spray for a few hours before crawling into bed, worry drives him to follow his retreating brothers instead; desperate to help, desperate to see that Donnie was just fine. Raph didn’t take long showers, anyway, so he’d just go second.
“Shower’s all yours, Raph!” He calls, barely waiting for the vague affirmative hum in return before he slips into the lab as well. Leo is, of course, on top of everything now that he’s settled back into his rhythm. He’s sitting on a chair next to the cot Donnie is on, muttering something that is no doubt a litany of reprimanding. Making his way over to grab Donnie’s hand and give it a comforting squeeze as antiseptic is poured over the graze, he tunes into the scolding Leo is giving out.
“Donnie, please, never take a hit for me again. Ever. I can take it just fine, you should never put yourself in that position.” The concern and barely restrained anger dripping from the words are enough to have Donnie wincing, and not just from the burn of rubbing alcohol on his shoulder. Still, he can’t exactly let that slide.
“He was aiming for your head, Leo. Why do you think the bullet hit my shoulder, not my plastron or a limb? I’d do the exact same thing a million times over.” Leo shifts back, some cotton in one hand and bandages in the other as he stares at Donnie, a scrunched up frown on his face. He looks seconds away from crying, and Mikey figures he should do something about that.
Once he sees Leo put everything down, he kicks a foot out, connecting with his shell and sending him a weak smile when he turns to face Mikey. The right words aren’t forming because hearing how close they were to losing Leo, how close they were to losing the vital heart of their team, has brought back some of that panic he felt earlier. His mouth blurts something out anyway.
“We’d all do the same, Leo. We can’t lose the glue holding us all together, you know?” Donnie turns to him as he says that, eyebrows twisting in thought. Leo’s mouth thins, a slow shake of his head drawing Mikey’s attention towards him once again. He watches him pick up the bandages for lack of anything else to focus on.
“Yes, we can’t. Which is exactly why Donnie shouldn’t have done that. I can’t imagine how we’d survive if . . if something happened to him.” This time, Donnie makes a noise of disagreement, while Mikey tilts his head and frowns at him. That didn’t make any sense, any which way or order he put the words in. Somehow, he gets the feeling that they’re all arguing about completely different things.
“Leo, this attempt to guilt trip me by placing undue importance on my role in our lives would be more effective if I wasn’t well aware how little I actually do around here. I’m not Mikey, by any means.” Everyone is definitely arguing about different things because there’s no way Donnie is trying to imply that he thinks Mikey is important in any way, shape, or form. Leo grunts in annoyance, although his hands stay gentle as he starts wrapping cloth around Donnie’s shoulder.
“I- no, dude, I have to agree with Leo’s wordless grunt here. I’m not anything special- unlike him.” Mikey makes sure to gesture to Leo very obviously, trying to catch his eye and force some of his message through. He has no idea how this misunderstanding started, but he needs to try and correct it right now. This time Leo sighs, aggravated.
“Who builds everything we use in the lair? Who hacked us into the police radar, into the Foot’s communications? No one can do even a fraction of what Donnie does with his tech, but you were all fine without me when we were at the farmhouse!” The words almost have physical weight, a flinch going through all present, but Mikey refuses to back down. He needs to find a way to make Leo see that he’s important, that he’s what keeps them all functioning and together, when everything feels wrong, just by mere unconscious presence.
“You weren’t gone , though. You were still there, and that gave us hope. If you had actually-” He chokes on the words, failing to force them out and instead staring at his feet. He can’t even imagine how quickly everything would have fallen apart if Leo hadn’t still been alive, if they’d known there was no chance of him returning to them. From the corner of his eye, he sees Leo’s hands falter where they’re bandaging Donnie.
“Technology isn’t everything, Leo. Especially not the inventions I make, that break and malfunction every other attempt at using them.” Arms crossed, Donnie stares somewhere off to the side, clearly choosing his words carefully. His tone is soft, but stern, and then he turns to Mikey and keeps speaking.
“But during the . . situation at the farmhouse, I can’t even begin to describe how instrumental you were, Mikey, in keeping the peace. Even before that, you’ve always been the first to figure out what’s making any of us feel down. You shouldn’t discredit the work you do to keep us all together.” Mikey feels oddly- oddly something, some weird squirming in his stomach- at the implication that he’s “the glue,” as he’s internally dubbed their key team member. Which is Leo, he just can’t make him see it!
“That’s not the point.” Leo interrupts, making a noise of dissent as he shakes his head. They’re getting no where with this arguing, and master Splinter would probably have had him train until dawn and then some had he known he was trying to elevate one team member above the rest, but it’s just the truth. Donnie does more than just keep the lair, their home, running- he’s something else entirely, something that keeps everyone together and functioning in a way even Leo can’t comprehend.
A deep growl cuts everyone off, heads turning to find an angry Raph standing in the doorway and very much not showering as he said he would be. His expression is thunderous, but before anyone can say anything he marches into the room, door closing behind him with a slam, and stares them all down.
“You’re all idiots.” His tone is harsh, and even Leo winces at the fury almost visibly pouring off of their brother. He seems to be taking a moment to prepare for something, but whether it’s a screaming match or a beat down is impossible to tell.
“None of you are the glue- there is no damn glue in a team! You guys are dumber than I thought if you seriously think there’s only one person whose loss will shatter us. We can’t lose any of you.” The words are snarled, Raph starting to pace as he continues to glare at anyone who so much as twitches.
“Yeah, we knew Leo wasn’t dead when he was lying in that bathtub. That’s the only reason none of us fell apart irreparably while waiting for him to wake up.” He gets right into Leo’s personal space, jabbing a finger into his plastron as if willing the words to stick, to be understood.
“You’re our leader, Leonardo. No one else. Not me, not Donnie, sure as hell not Mikey- you balance us out, you work with our strengths and our weaknesses on a level so deep I doubt it’s even conscious.” Leo gapes for a few seconds before taking a step back and stumbling back into his chair, floored by the passion pouring off of his brother and even more so by the fact that it’s for him.
“There’s no one else who can run the lair but Donatello. Not a single one of us knows how to do what he does. Beyond that, his tactical insight into plans is unparalleled.” The currently bedridden genius suppresses a jump as the conversation towards to him, swallowing roughly at the sound of his full name. It’s not that he has bad self-esteem, he just knows that he’s not that important. And yet, hearing Raph’s words . . .
“And so is his calm disposition. When you want someone to listen to you, to really understand you, you go to Donnie. There’s no argument about that.” Donnie stares at him silently, hands clenching into the sheets as Raph talks on about him. He feels . . seen, in a way he’s not used to having directed at him.
“And Michelangelo? I know damn well we wouldn’t be the team we are without him tempering us out because we wouldn’t have survived a day without his positive outlook to keep us going, and the fact that he does this near instinctually?” It’s Mikey’s turn to jolt, mouth opening and closing uselessly as he tries to rebalance himself. The vehement way Raph states everything, as if instructing reality how it’s supposed to turn out, leaves him no choice but to nod along dumbly.
“His fighting’s like no one else’s, and the way he gets into an enemy’s head has gotten us out of more than one sticky situation.” For once in his life, Mikey is speechless, but seeing as the rest of his brothers can’t make any attempt to speak, he figures he’s allowed a pass just this once. The silence prevails as Raph’s words sink in.
“I don’t want to hear any more of this talk about one of you being more important to the team. That’s not how this is gonna work. There’s not any one person we can’t live without; the team would shatter the moment any of you three went down.” Something about that final sentence pings Donnie’s mind in a weird way, but he’s honestly still too shell-shocked over his hotheaded brother giving such a heartfelt speech to puzzle it out.
Leo’s hands have completely dropped from the still untied bandage, Donnie lying down now that he’s not being held up by the need for it to be secured. No one speaks, although Raph does give them all an extra glare, seemingly daring someone to say something and disagree with his statements.
“. . and what about you?” Mikey stares at Raph, wiping at his slightly misty eyes after the earnest declarations from his older brother. There’s a bit of genuine curiosity about how Raph sees his own role in the team, but it’s mostly a deflection. He gets a growl for his trouble.
“ I’m done bein’ sappy. Now all of you quit your yapping and let a turtle get some rest.” He stomps off before anyone can ask any other questions, not that anyone really could as their thoughts brew. The silence is deep and brooding.
Leo slowly gets up from his chair to finish tying off Donnie’s bandages before excusing himself, feet taking him to the dojo on reflex. No one really questions his need to meditate. Mikey gives Donnie a final wobbly smile before slipping out of the door to finally go take that shower and maybe draw something to deal with the sudden influx of emotions. Donnie, for his part, simply lowers his head onto the pillow, fingers tapping out a random rhythm as he replays the words from his brother over and over again in his head.
-
The door clicks shut quietly behind Raph. His usual routine for returning home- involving carefully cleaning his gear, beating a punching bag into submission, and preparing for bed- is forgone in favor of collapsing face-first into the mattress, lying down that way for a few minutes until he finally flips over and stares at the ceiling in silence.
He meant every word he said, of course; his brothers are worth more than the Earth and the sun and the moon to him. He should’ve been more careful, more attentive, more prepared during that fight- he should’ve noticed the gun, or at least taken the hit so that his brother didn’t have to. Donnie, Leo, and Mikey are irreplaceable, integral parts of the team.
But Raph ?
He lifts a hand, glaring at the limb before letting it drop back to his side. He’s nothing special. He’s just there to punch things- and he doesn’t even succeed at that every time, who would’ve thought? Half of the time Mikey spends managing the mood is just calming him down, and the number of times he argues with Leo over something so stupid and small and inconsequential- shell if Donnie doesn’t deserve a bit of downtime without Raph either breaking something or getting injured or bothering him with something.
He’s not just useless- that would be heartrending, sure, but then there would at least be a chance of improvement. No, he’s a hindrance, taking up time and space and effort and- worse than nothing- creating more problems. Anyone with a pair of fists and working legs would be better than him. Less temperamental, less problematic- less him.
Yeah, there’s no “glue” in the team- he doesn’t know where they got that ridiculous notion- but that doesn’t mean there aren’t spare parts. Broken, jagged parts that clog the machine because they’re too willful for Leo to lead, too temperamental for Donnie to cool, too furious for Mikey to calm, too much in all the wrong ways-
He shoves a hand over his face, growling at the empty air of his room and pretending he’s not furiously blinking away tears. He’s being stupid. He may not be as important as his brothers, but he can damn well make himself useful, at the very least. He’ll force himself to calm down, break his own arms if he has to, and he’s not letting Donnie take a bullet for anyone ever again- he’s not letting anyone take a bullet again period.
Anyone aside from himself.