Earth And Oxygen: The Underestimated And The Underappreciated
Friends can help each other. A true friend is someone who lets you have total freedom to be yourself - and especially to feel. Or, not feel. Whatever you happen to be feeling at the moment is fine with them. That's what real love amounts to - letting a person be what he really is. - Jim Morrison
Kindness in words creates confidence. Kindness in thinking creates profoundness. Kindness in giving creates love. -Lao Tzu
They walk hand in hand down silent sewer tunnels that only they know. It was like fate, the first time, although one might refer to it as physics and the other as luck. The moon is strong shining through the grates and illuminating their path.
He breathes deeply and enjoys the silence, but honestly he would prefer the noise. Just a tickle of air across the steady earth, curving, curling, tunneling into a sound carrying with it the laughter of water and the call of fire. He tightens his grip, smile loose and shy, and then there is soft movement next to him.
His little brother is looking at him, head tilted, and under the light the colors across his face shimmer like polished gemstones. A smirk curves so naturally on his mouth that it is permanently etched into the dimple on his cheek, across which that smattering of freckles dance like mathematical equations against the lime green skin. His bright eyes are now the blue of a sky promising dawn, making the orange mask around them brighter. Blue and orange complement each other, of course.
He wonders about purple.
The tech strapped to his belt and shell isn't heavy, it never is, he is used to it like limbs now. He pulls out the GPS he fixed up during a scavenge and simply points left; his brother merely tugs and spins on a perfectly balanced athletic heel.
Too quiet. He's too quiet. He's never quiet.
Should there be a conversation starter? Should it be his turn? There is ice and it's thick and he thinks of the best way to break it. Well, maybe not the best, because he's not...that area is...he just...
He clears his throat. "So..."
His brother slows down. "Hmm?"
"S-So...did you know there are only ten types of people in the world? Those who understand binary, and those who don't."
His brother stops, and turns to him. Those huge blue eyes blink very slowly a few times, like a cat expressing affection. There's no confusion, just patience and an attempt to follow the line of thinking. He's still silent.
"It's...you see, it's more of a visual joke...b-because the ten is really meant to be a one and a zero, and..."
His brother suddenly smiles, widely, and his teeth gleam, and his dimple deepens, and his freckles shift, and his azure eyes gleam.
"I think I get it, Donnie. I think. It's...it's a math joke, right?"
He nods more enthusiastically than needed. He opens his mouth to explain more, but is interrupted.
"I mean, you've got code, duh. And code, it's always binary, it's one zero zero one one zero, right? So, so, you put that sort of thing together and..." And then Mikey gestures in the air, a straight line and then a circle, "so by ten people it's really one zero, which is binary code! Yeah. Yeah, that's funny, dude! That's really funny. Man, I love it when game developers sneak little easter eggs and codes into my games like that."
Donatello finds his mouth agape, and suddenly it hits him that Michelangelo really is much smarter than anyone gives him credit for. Of course. Of course. He's a gamer. He's a hardcore gamer geek. He would have to teach himself eventually, and oh, that must have been how he broke into Don's laptop last week and created that annoying virus with the dancing hamster...!
Mikey is laughing, the sound bouncing off the tunnel walls and bouncing off Donnie's mind, and he giggles "You should see the look on your face, Dee, it's like you're buffering. Come on. Aren't we almost there?" And he squeezes his immediate big brother's hand and pulls, just a little, gently enough.
And Donnie just wants to wrap him him a hug at that moment, because oh, Mikey, you understand, you really get me! And he thinks, it's not so bad now, I'm not alone, I'm not alone at all, because your brain is one of a kind, isn't it? Just like mine. Complex and forever complicated. We're the same, we're sides of a coin. It might not look like it, but we are the ones who hold everything together.
It's all masks, isn't it, Mikey, you like to play act, role play, wear masks. You mispronounce words on purpose. You make us assume you are ignorant. You touch the shiny button because you can't help it, but you also know exactly what happens with the button. Oh, Mikey, I am so sorry we've been underestimating you. You're a master of illusion and deception. And suddenly I feel more appreciated.
As they walk closer and closer to the basking room right under the huge grate, Donatello loses himself again, like always, and his thoughts stumble over themselves. He cannot help having a wide expanse of mind that absorbs everything and begs for more, information pouring in and spreading randomly like falling leaves in autumn. His brain automatically sorting through all that random science, compartmentalizing, carefully sorting into piles, pushing neatly into corners. He can't help knowing, just all the knowing. He can't help wanting to build things and rebuild things and fix things and learn and learn. Their father begging him to go to sleep, their oldest brother insisting too much coffee isn't healthy, their middle brother making soft threats if he didn't stop with the technobabble in the middle of a mission, their little brother-
His only baby brother grinning so widely that his jaw must ache, cheering him on, "You're awesome, Donnie, you can do anything!" and skidding gleefully into his lab while the flasks and beakers are simmering and the computers are calculating and "Donnie, what are you working on? Donnie, can I see? Ooh, this is shiny, what's it do?" And his snapping, his own sass exploding, "Mikey, NO, don't TOUCH those, what are you DOING, get out of here, these are highly unstable, get OUT!" And honestly it's less pure annoyance and irritation than it is instant fear and worry- Mikey, stop, that might hurt you, no, Mikey, no, that's acid, it'll burn you, oh please Mikey for the love of physics, I don't want you to hurt yourself, I'm not prepared to treat whatever horrific wounds you'll get - but all that comes out is exasperated frustration and stress and yes sometimes anger because what else can he do?
The family needs him. Needs him desperately to hold them together in one place but free to move, the way the earth pulls the water and the fire and the air close to its bosom, the way gravity is the strongest force and is commanded by the interplay of nature. He is the only scientist, engineer, medic...he really must do something about that, he should not be the only medic...without him, the family would not exist. And at the same time, he will perform scientific impossibilities, saving their lives again and again, and they say "Thanks, Donnie" the way one says "Hey, thanks for the coffee" because they always know Donnie will be there. Donnie pulls though. Donnie fixes it. Don't worry, Donnie's got this. Impossible? Not for Donatello. Donatello stares impossible in the face and smirks.
But.
How often has Donatello been told how appreciated he is? Could he count on his fingers? And his toes? It's not like he has many. It's just a thing. He doesn't dwell on it; he can't, because another idea comes up and he starts working on a project and there's no time to dwell on being underappreciated. He's not overlooked, just...maybe taken for granted a little? Maybe? Just a little? But he wanted it all, he always wanted to build things and do things and think about things, and Dad did his very best to collect textbooks and computers to connect to the internet, and Donnie couldn't help having a brain that just knew, that just knew everything, it wasn't is fault that Mikey liked to call him a technological genius who is technically a genius and...
Mikey.
He bites his lip.
Sweet, innocent, underestimated Mikey. The most natural fighter, the one who possessed preternatural skills and Olympic level talents. If he would only hone his focus enough, Father says, he could be stronger, better, faster, more skilled than all of them. But that's just it. He doesn't want to focus on honing his warrior skills, does he? He wants to be a teenager. He wants to be a young boy enjoying life, playing, joking, loving his family. He might be potentially the greatest ninja, but that's not his goal and may never be. Leo says it's a shame, Raph just wants him to stop pulling pranks so much, Splinter hopes he can be the ideal student. But Donnie sees the ADHD, the learning disabilities, the autistic traits like his own but a little different. Mikey sees the world through a lens of hope and goodness and pure raw optimism. One day, the bad guys will be defeated. One day, everyone will be happy. One day, they will have so many friends.
And so when Mikey had developed severe depression, when he came so close to dying just because his body crumbled and allowed physical weapons to slice through his force fields of speed and agility and raw power, Donnie had honestly thought he might forever lose the one thing in the universe that could make him really smile, with real joy and real love, real comfort like soothing plush blankets and hot chocolate on a cold night. Donnie didn't cry often. He cried more than ever during those times when Michelangelo was losing his battles to his own darkness.
It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, it shouldn't happen. Those shards of nothing, empty hollows piercing his baby brother's heart and brain like glass, they shouldn't have gotten so deep. And he had to keep thinking of those quotes about the brightest hiding the most darkness, the happiest hiding the most sadness, the ones who love the most hurting he most, how those who genuinely love everyone they meet do so because they never want anyone to go through the pain they feel. And he had to make it his mission to show his only little brother that love came in all forms, and that the fiercest, most loyal kinds of love always stay...
They are here. Mikey skips ahead, then naturally folds his legs up and plop lands in the soft sand, letting out a mewl and coo of pure happiness. He looks up at his immediate older brother and holds out both hands, and Donnie takes them, tears in the corners of his eyes, and he kneels, sitting seiza next to his agura sitting brother, and they wrap their arms around each other and stare up beyond the grate, at the clear starry sky above that is almost dark blue, the vast dots fading like solved equations on a cave wall.
He looks closely at his only little brother and he sees the long deep scars. The one on his right side, where that Foot Clan katana slid in noiselessly and a depressed Mikey was too silent to alert them. The slices and punctures on his upper plastron, which he took in place of Donnie, pushing his brother down and catching two kunai in the chest that cracked ribs and spilled blood and bruised lungs, and that had been a nightmare that lasted an agonizing month before Michelangelo had opened his eyes, breathed on his own, smiled cheerfully as though nothing was wrong. It had been another long month before Donatello made himself clear Mikey for regular activity, terror filling his veins every time his only baby brother gasped for breath or seized up in pain or stumbled with the crutch. But then the depression took over again and Mikey sunk deeply, and Donnie devoted months to helping him push through, and the memories became the taste of chocolate mixed in coffee on his tongue, the sound of Mikey quietly reading books out loud to show he was still there. Donnie had read so much psychology and neurology text that April teased him about having a degree in name only. But it had worked, it had worked so well because he loved Mikey and because Mikey loved him, and Donnie would mentally train to be able to pull Mikey up with more strength than he knew how to handle. And seeing that smile, feeling that tight hug, it was worth everything beyond the laws of physics, and it was all that mattered.
Humming and trilling, Donatello squeezes tightly and Michelangelo chirps and nuzzles his collarbone, sighing with utter contentment.
"You know, Donnie," Mikey said in a soft voice thick with relaxed sweetness, "I'll never underappreciate you. I know exactly all the wonderful things you do for us. How you always save us and keep us safe. Without you we would be lost."
Blinking, Donatello moves his head until his chin is pressed against Mikey's head. "Mikey, how did you even know I was worrying about that?"
Cuddling even closer, Mikey giggles. "I can sense it. It's easy. Sometimes I see it, like colors. Sometimes I feel it like sensations. Sometimes I just know. Don't you have that happen?"
Donatello frowns. "No. Never. Really? You can sense what we're feeling?" His mind begins to race. Empathic connections. Interpersonal Intelligence, obviously! But he has never, ever heard of interpersonal intelligence going this far. Is this... extrasensory perception? Could Mikey be taught to expand this ability? What if-?
"Shhhh, Donnie, shhh," and that adorable freckled face is tilted up until it fills his direct line of vision, and that sunny grin is sparkling. "Come on, get out of that head for a minute. Be with me. Right now. Right here. We can totally talk about whatever you want, but right now isn't for thinking, it's for being."
Being. Not thinking. Just being. Yeah. Yeah, he can just be. Maybe. "Show me, Mikey," he says softly. "Show me how to just be."
The grin softens, and the freckled beak touches his lightly. "If you'll teach me medical science stuff. I want to be able to contribute to the team, too."
Don inhales shakily. "Mikey, little brother, you contribute more than you will ever know."
And the tears threatening to fall are caught by a swift, small brother's finger, and its owner whispers, "First rule of being: Let yourself go. Let it surround you. Don't push it away, don't fight it. Just exist in the moment. Let everything come into you and breathe. Just breathe."
Donatello smiles, and as he settles into a slow meditative breathing, staring into his brother's sapphire sunshine eyes, he finally feels a long, deep weight begin to lift away, and that is okay. It is all okay. They will always be okay together.