The sun was casting bright when he awoke. He narrowed his eyes at it as he shifted away, lying still more until he smelled something amazing and resolved to investigate. He pulled himself up gingerly, still aware of the ever-fading pain in his muscles, and glanced around. He hadn't expected his brothers to leave him alone in here. They hadn't stopped bothering him last night for sure.
They hadn't left though; he heard them in the Big Room with some other indistinct noises. It was mild enough to not be of concern.
He heaved himself completely to his feet with a laborious huff, stretched, and then plodded over to the tree. It traced patterns with its thin, twisting, bare branches, and when he peered up through the winding design, the bright ball of light was at its zenith. He had slept a lot longer than he meant to after his brothers woke him up early. He blinked away with a disappointed snort and made his way to the opening a bit cautiously.
He poked his head out, following the sounds of his family to tip his head. He spotted them on one of those colorful oblong rocks, backs to him. Tantalizing scents drifted from their location. The urge to explore the Tree Room made his claws itch, but his brothers and their food called to him more. The uniform stone ledges that led into the Big Room confused his paws. He simply settled to jump.
His grunt and the click of his claws must have alerted the turtles—they whipped around on their bizarre rock to stare at him. Their alarm pulsed like angry teeth through the air, but then it softened with recognition and indecipherable kind words. He straightened stiffly, relieved at their ease, and wandered over, taking his time to better inspect his new surroundings.
He meandered with his nose hovering over the ground; it smelled traveled, thick with scents of all the turtles and Rat and… something like those Above creatures his family feared. He picked his head up, tipping it at them in question. If they were so wary that they hid away in an uncomfortable stone trap, why were the creatures' scents so prevalent? He rumbled at their perplexed features and bowed his head, resuming his snuffling. It smelled only to be two: A male and a female. They would need to be present a lot to have such an impact around here… He determined a trail and made his way along it, all the way to the rock. He bumped into its soft surface, then gazed up, huffing his query. He got no answers but strange looks.
He swallowed a sigh and sat himself down. Whisperer rested closest to him at the near edge of the soft rock. In his paws was the source of the curious food smell. Triangular with some sauce that smelled tomatoey, it was covered in a yellow-white coat. It had a lot of other questionable choices sprinkled on top also, but it couldn't be too awful if Whisperer consumed it. He was hungry anyway, and he didn't know the next time he would be able to eat. Even if his only current option set off every alarm in his head.
His bent his neck, leaning forward to snap it up before Whisperer cried something out and shoved his snout with a greasy paw. He gave his own noise of displeasure, scuttling away and rubbing at his muzzle. What kind of evil stuff was that?
He glanced up; Whisperer was finishing the last of the triangle greedily—and Red and Blue just stared. He puffed a rumbly growl, lifting a paw to lick it and swipe it one final time over the afflicted area. So, Whisperer had food aggression, and that had been his. Noted.
Whisperer hopped off the rock and padded over to him. He wore a smile that looked only a little more genuine than last night's as he reached out to pat his head and get that nasty stuff on him again. He spoke with a broader grin, eyes without such a shine—which he thought was good, so was he faking now?— and put his paws on the sides of his shell as he waltzed off back to the little passage. Blue and Red got up a bit reluctantly while Whisperer vanished into the Food Room. With that seemingly the destination, and with his empty stomach, he trotted after.
Red and Blue disappeared past a screen after giving him a glance. He scrutinized the curtain at a distance until he spied a part; he came closer and nosed at it. It felt a little like an extremely thin Soft Rock upon brief contact. Brief since it'd been driven back by his muzzle. It was safe, anyway, so he pushed himself through until he no longer could. He just slid down then, cocking his head to study the room…
And it really just smelled like the triangles.
Whisperer rustled through a large, smelly greenish container with a cold bite and some unnatural food (it had to be since he knew he smelled it) within. Blue leaned near, now patting his head, and Red stood a bit away, probably communicating with Whisperer. (He wished he could understand.)
Whisperer stepped back then, cradling in his arms a much smaller container whose inside walls were coated with condensation. He popped off the top and brought it to his nose before going to another holder at length. It opened like all the weird boxes in this den. And he just… put it in there. Casually. Pressed some things with a digit, then backed up, smiling at him. The box hummed with some unnatural life, and he shuddered. It unnerved him, that noise, all these new things. His claws involuntarily unsheathed and tried to sink into the stone.
Blue stroked his head and neck a little more vigorously, murmuring now. He soaked it up, a small purr even daring to build in his chest before a loud beeping cut through the air—he jumped with a wail, hitting his head on the wall as he scuttled out and retreated. His brothers were laughing as he evacuated to the Tree Room.
Be careful guys. I'm not sure he even knows who we are.
Casey's eyes burned as he glowered at Leo's text in the group chat. It wasn't from the heat, not from the smell, and conflicting emotions about this fact warred in his head.
He and Don had been caught not long ago, exploring their feelings pretty tentatively. There was anger, shock, disbelief; then acceptance later after it dissipated. Boyfriends, Mikey had called them. Donnie started too after a few days, and Casey followed shortly for the hell of it. It wasn't anything formal, and he'd never thought about the implications. Not until now, when images of Don slobbery, spiky-shelled, sharp-toothed, and razor-clawed loomed and roared in his mind and it clenched his heart and made his stomach angry with a different fire.
He couldn't tell what to name the fire that now had knives at the backs of his eyes, and he decided he just didn't want to as he tried to casually rub his face.
"Hey, Casey," April murmured next to him, "you realize this is Donatello, don't you? He has to come around."
Casey didn't have to be psychic to sense the fabricated hope in her voice. "Do you really believe that?" he asked dryly, dragging his eyes away from the screen. "I ain't stupid."
"You're not stupid, and Donnie isn't either. He has to realize something isn't right. You have to trust him in that."
"How can you still think like that?" tugged at his tongue with all the bullshit that had happened, but, for once, he decided it was best to not shoot back; Donnie didn't need them to be more upset. Casey turned his head away, shoving his phone into his pocket.
As silence constricted them, Casey's legs were caught between urging him to hurry there and screaming to turn around. Dread turned them to weights, and then concern jolted them to life. It made the fire in the pit of his stomach sick. Sick with all the emotions he'd conditioned himself to think were weak.
Donnie said those feelings were natural. Normal. Human. Casey remembered his wistful eyes, his face tilted up to the bustling city above, and it only struck him now that he had brushed it off like it was nothing. Like Donnie hadn't been upset in the least.
It shouldn't have taken Donnie mutating into a monster for him to care.
Casey choked the instant his phone went off as a savior. He clumsily fumbled for it and withdrew the device, nearly tripping in the process. He felt April's second eyes probing him—the slight tingling sensation that ghosted on the back of his neck. He withheld a shudder as he tried to focus on Mikey's message.
Hey guys i dont know where you are but if you're close you should wait. Ds chomping down on some hamburger rn and prob wont appreciate you guys barging in
It took a second for Casey's legs to comply and halt, but he soon could lean on the wall as he turned his ringtone off and swallowed grumbling complaints in his throat. April came by him too, quiet as a cat. Among everything else, jealousy bubbled.
"I think I can pull him back," she said at length. "Like how I did with Splinter."
"You think he'd let you?"
"When we get him to trust us." She paused. "If he can't come back on his own."
Casey hummed, leaning his head away down the path they came. His legs were in the stage that yelled for him to run home. He swallowed temptation, rolling his head the other way, to the lair in which Donnie with his friends sat, doing who knows what, hoping beyond everything he would come back…
Bile rose steadily in Casey's throat, and he swallowed fiercely.
April put a hand on his shoulder, softly, and it proved enough to ground him.
For Donnie's sake, he decided. Casey needed to make it up to him.
Casey and April resumed shortly after Mikey had given them the okay. It was close, so close, and now Casey was trapped in a perpetual cycle of needing to hurry and needing to leave. His legs felt weightless, prepared to sprint either way. He didn't though, because April's hand was around his wrist, tight and warning.
He felt ill. Ill from his apprehensions, his utter weakness. He had basically failed them; the one patrol he hadn't joined went to shit when he could've done something. Anything.
The night he decided to care about his fucking reading assignments.
They were at the corner now, about to turn, with April urging him on silently with tugs. He grappled his emotions one more time, and then he complied.
For the slightest, barest moment, Casey saw the image of a lean figure hunched, surrounded by the turtle brothers, but it was only for a flash before it had surged forward and swiped both him and April down.
Pain lanced up Casey's spine as Donnie towered over them, his head lowered and jaws stretched in a roar. His breath still carried wafts of coffee and mint—the familiar tang. But it did nothing to ward off his boiling horror, as Donnie had reared back without the slimmest look of hesitation, pale talons outstretched. Casey met the livid blue eyes without honor, begging, pleading—
Casey hadn't realized he'd soon shut his eyes to brace himself, and he pried them open again to see the guys fighting Don down with care, patting and murmuring. Donnie had released an indignant cry, but he wasn't fighting. Not anymore. Casey inhaled sharply, wrestling his heart rate down. He was disgusted by his display of weakness and his apparent inability to defend himself. Next, he was ashamed, because that was Donnie; then he was frustrated at the fire in his abdomen that had burst into an inferno.
Casey took another deep breath and tried dousing it as he inched closer. Donnie jerked his head up, his lips pinned back, a guttural, rolling growl in his throat. Mikey grimaced, patting Don's snout and subtly pushing it to the ground. Glancing up, he said quietly, "See if you can get him to smell ya."
Casey relucted, staring into Don's icy eyes for a long time before April brushed past him first. Donnie snarled, made an attempt to weasel forward, but April kept her hand still. Not advancing, not backing up. And, finally, Donnie extended his neck, flaring his nostrils. Something like recognition flashed on his features, but it was far from friendly. He pulled back, and he looked to be studying her hand, then her face. His stony expression melted just slightly, and he had put his attention on Casey. Waiting.
He sat dumbly for a few seconds, yet clashing with his stupid, stupid emotions. Casey watched Donnie's face drop; his head broke free from Mikey's grasp to shove forward, huffing irritatedly. He registered April's nudge and her following attempts to push his hand closer—it took that for him to blink free. He was sure his cheeks were tinted already, but he even more so felt the warmth and blood rushing to his face as he shakily complied.
Fuck, it wasn't a good day.
Donnie lingered a lot more for him, his eyes sharper than a blade. He cycled through a snarl, a neutral expression, confusion, and something like a grimace as he scooted back. Donnie voluntarily looked Casey in the eye, like he expected something, and it killed him to admit he had no idea what he wanted.
Casey slumped while Donnie encouraged the guys to let him free. He heaved himself up, alternating his attention between him and April until she offered her hand out. Donnie whuffed, and his tail thumped once as he bunted it. She scratched his cheek; Casey barely heard her breathed, "Hi, Donnie," as he stared. He noticed that Donnie's build wasn't so svelte anymore; his arms had filled out well, his shoulders were broad, his neck was long and thick—though his abdomen sloped upward into a comparatively thin tail.
That tail with its pale tip flicked up upon the owner catching Casey's eyes. He gave April a last nudge before he situated himself closer to Casey. He found the power somewhere to hold out his palm. He dragged himself out of it because, hey , this was Donnie (the big markings around his eyes said so, even though the eyes themselves screamed the opposite), and, at least, he wasn't attacking anymore. He was actually rubbing his freakishly cold nose on Casey's hand, chirring an unspoken question quietly. Casey regained control of his limbs and shifted, holding Donnie's head with both hands and scratching. Donnie practically went cross-eyed with pleasure, and Casey fought every molecule in his being to stop himself from pushing his face into Donnie's neck and sobbing.
"You said you didn't think he knows who you guys are," Casey said in a low voice, aware of the meditating Splinter behind them.
"I don't know," Leo said, fidgeting. "I think he knows he can trust us—" he brushed the bridge of Donnie's snout with his knuckles "—but I don't think he actually… knows."
"Poor D," Mikey murmured, stroking Donnie's neck as he glanced around at all of them, a kind of puppy smile on his face. It was like a mixture of something human and a snarl. A very toothy grin. It was almost cute, Casey decided.
"My dad can help him," April said then. "He will. He's… He's always wanted the chance to return the favor."
"Yeah." Leo nodded. "We've been thinking about asking Dr. Rockwell too."
As they spoke, Casey's attention focused on Raph. He had his eyes down, burning fiercely, staring at the floor like he wanted nothing more than to make it crumble. Casey meant to make a move, but Donnie beat him. He'd dropped his head down and was nuzzling Raph's knee. The turtle remained frozen for a long moment, but he finally sighed and humored Don. The guys gave Raph sympathetic pats and looks, and then the conversation continued.
"So, last night when you guys were tracking down that mutagen," April began softly. " What happened?"
"I… I don't really know. We just heard a splash and Donnie scream and…" Leo gestured mildly, if not a little jerkily, to the dappled super mutant. His face was bluer than his mask as he twiddled his thumbs.
"That fucking sucks," Casey muttered, and he hated the way his voice broke.
"Yeah, but… at least he's finally out of his lab." Mikey's smile was like glass.
"After it was over, Donnie tried to, uh, run away, and…" Leo fell off.
"I tackled him."
"Yes, Mikey, you did," Raph said, Donnie still under his arm, "and we had to jump in so Donnie didn't bite your head off."
Donnie whined like he understood. Casey knew it wasn't like that though; Don just comprehended the anger. Casey had quickly discovered Donnie didn't even know his own goddamn name.
"Stop; you're scaring him. And seriously, dude, we can't have him running around. He's big and dumb —" Mikey's gaze went fond "—and he'd get us in trouble, y'know?"
"So he's calmed down a lot, huh?" April broke the subsequent silence, leaning forward to pat his shoulder.
"Yes…" Leo's eyes were narrowed.
Casey knew what was coming next, and the slightest, smallest, scantest drop of hope condensed in his stomach.
"I've been thinking, and I… think I can bring Donnie back. What I did with Splinter."
"That… sounded like it really hurt," Mikey said slowly, dragging his palm over Donnie's neck, almost protectively.
"And Splinter went batshit on me," Casey added hesitantly. The drop sizzled.
"Not after Splinter returned…" April sighed. "It'll help him, in the long run. I love him too, guys; I don't want to hurt him."
"You should wait," Raph grumbled. "See if he can do it on his own."'
"I'm not saying we do it now." April sounded tired. "Some other time, yeah…"
"Give him until the end of the year. New Year's is soon," Mikey said, petting Donnie's head. He'd pulled his head free and was glancing around again. Without the smile. Confused.
But, then, Casey imagined Donnie's face wasn't much else.
"Yeah…"
At this point, everybody was touching Donnie, and he seemed to had just given up on puzzlement.
"Hey, dudes," Mikey spoke after a long minute. "I've been thinking, and some nature doc comes on soon, and… you think Donnie would enjoy it?"
"Oh, maybe," Leo said. "If we get him to realize something's even on."
"It might even nudge him a little!" Mikey sounded optimistic. Casey's mouth was dry at the thought. Donnie had a look dumber than ever as he stared down Casey—he'd just noticed—with a downturned muzzle and slit eyes. Casey gazed back, and then Donnie averted his attention as he stared up at the sorry-looking tree.
"Well," Raph said lowly, eyes narrowed, "if we wanna try, we better hurry 'cause I saw that too, and it comes on pretty soon."
"And maybe… you think Donnie would want popcorn?"
"Probably, but we shouldn't."
"Yeah, I guess, but..."
Mikey's voice faded as Casey's mind wandered. Casey had wanted to find a way to sneak Donnie into a movie theater for months, long before Donnie even had looked at him differently, but, when he'd, at last, suggested it, Donnie had laughed. Good-naturedly, maybe sadly. He was prepared to paint Donnie and stuff him in a massive trench coat if he had to; Don said he could pirate a movie just as easily without risking everything. "Who'd come down to the sewers to arrest a giant turtle man for downloading Moana?" he'd said.
"I don't want Moana ," he had replied tartly. "It's not even in the movies."
"I can almost guarantee it's better than anything there right now. We're watching it."
Then shit had gone down, and they never did.
And then this.
Casey would kill to get the chance, he thought.
Casey only roused when everyone stood. He followed immediately, trying to conceal the way his head spun promptly. Donnie looked to be sitting himself up when Splinter spoke suddenly, and Casey jumped.
"I wish to speak with Casey," Splinter said, gazing at him. "It should not take too long. You may go on." He signaled to the guys and included April.
Casey's heart jumped into his throat.
The words subsequent were a blur, and they were beckoning Donnie. He watched as Don began to resume pulling himself up, reluct as he glanced at Casey, and then inch himself over, slowly, toward him. He trilled at his brothers before he was eye-level with Casey.
Splinter hummed once they had left. "Donatello cares much about you."
Casey tried to swallow his heart as he rested a palm on Donnie's neck. "...Yeah."
The next inevitable question was like a bee buzzing in Casey's ears.
"And how do you feel about Donatello?"
Splinter's eyes burned into his skin, and he felt the ever-mounting need to hide . He just bit back a shudder, staring a hole through Donnie's neck to avoid the contact. I'm such a goddamn coward.
Donnie's nose brushed Casey's shoulder as the big turtle chirred. It was a quiet noise, and when Casey dared to look at him, his face wasn't so dumb anymore. His eyes were big, brows furrowed, expression intent—Casey snapped his head down before his eyes started to burn too much.
"Do you still believe you feel the same way, Casey?"
"... No."
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
He seemed to gravitate naturally to Donnie's goddamn giraffe neck, shoving his forehead against the more sensitive lighter scales. A deep inhale traveled through his throat, and then Donnie was pushing himself closer. Purring, oh so quietly, just enough to rumble faintly in Casey's ear. It was as though it was enough to shake the drops of wet around his eyes; then it was trailing down his cheek.
Casey bared his teeth like he could fight all the emotions rising up and slashing at his eyes. If this is what it's like to be human, Donnie, then I hate it.
A paw landed softly on his shoulder—a silent prompt or comfort, he didn't know, nor did he care. But the answer was humming in his mind, and it slipped through his lips in broken phrases.
"I-I care more … I… appreciate him m-more—I-I was an asshole for no fucking reason… more than we play—played—" His rant still flowed in his brain, but his body was racked by a shuddering gasp.
Donnie whimpered in Casey's ear. He felt Donnie bring his jaw to his back, felt him trying to get an arm around his waist, and, maybe, Casey thought through all the turmoil, their Donnie wasn't as gone as he'd thought.
It didn't lessen the tears, didn't douse the fire in his stomach, didn't ease the sobs biting his chest, but it did, just slightly, revive the drop of hope.
But that didn't matter as he completely crumbled; everything little weakness he stored behind a dam that had defected a little more every day until it broke and surged. He was only faintly aware of Splinter rubbing circles on his back, below Donnie's nose. He was still purring, louder than ever.
It was the only thing in Casey's ears as he succumbed to human nature.
Mikey lingered in the doorway of the dojo, fingering the mirror in his hands lightly. It was Leo's, the pastel red handheld one, and Mikey'd learned not to ask.
Donnie laid around the tree, curled up around it with his shell to him. Mikey was about to step forward for the tenth time before he hesitated again. Donnie'd been kind of pissy since they'd tried to get him into T.V. He'd eventually understood the documentary and even tried to chase the rabbits, but anything else… Mikey was certain it was frustration that made Donnie snap at them, but it still… hurt.
Mikey'd tried to give D time to chill, but since the documentary hadn't been as provocative as he hoped, his chest felt fuzzy with hope as he, at last, took that step forward. Then another. And another. And Donnie wasn't actually asleep; he'd shifted his head to peer at Mikey, rumbling.
He waved, offering the best smile as he brought himself closer and then kneeled. Long before then, Donnie had noticed the mirror, and his eyes gleamed with renewed energy as he sniffed.
Mikey still had yet to turn it around. Some coldness started to seep into his stomach, and he tightened his grip on the plastic object. He sucked in a deep breath and extended his arm to pat Donnie's neck. He sniffed the mirror pretty thoroughly before butting it and turning a questioning stare at Mikey. His fingers shook suddenly, and doubt struck him. What if Donnie…
No, it didn't matter, because he was trying, and any try was a good try. So, slowly, he flipped it around.
Donnie flung back like he'd been hit. Mikey tried so hard to keep himself steady, but he faltered when Donnie roared , deep and guttural and angry. Mikey whipped the mirror around before his brother could lunge, clutching it to his chest. Donnie absolutely froze, staring with eyes on fire. He whipped around, huffing and snorting, flexing his claws, and it made Mikey's heart ache. Mikey called out quietly, but Donnie didn't respond, back still heaving and stance prepared to fight. His mouth went dry, but he forced his tongue to click instead because at least Donnie recognized that as a call for attention. Donnie twirled as though he expected the enemy to be there like he thought Mikey'd clucked for help, as funny as it sounded. But there was no battle to fight; Donnie's snarl faltered, he sniffed the air, and then his muscles loosened as he glanced around, more subdued.
"It's okay, dummy," he almost laughed, almost smiled. "C'mere."
Donnie watched for a long moment, then began slinking forward. Whether he understood or it was a coincidence was undetermined.
Probably just him deciding all by himself, Mikey decided sadly. But Donnie wasn't quite the one to listen anyway when he put his mind to something.
But whatever. Donnie was here now, so it was best to keep his attention.
"This is a mirror, bro. It's you." He tapped the back with a finger, and Donnie raised a paw and imitated him, in a more rough, struggling sense.
"Yeah, see? Not gonna hurt you!" Mikey patted the back once more, then turned it back around and did the same to the reflective surface. Donnie jumped back and screamed.
"Dude, it's okay." He waved his hand almost frantically in front of it. "It. Is. Okay." Donnie remained crouched, flattened to the ground, but his eyes were contracting from their saucer size. They almost recaptured the curious gleam; but he spotted himself again. But it wasn't as intense, and he perked up again, slightly. Soon he inched himself up. Some hope roused in Mikey's chest, and he gestured him over, mindful to keep his posture mild.
D did come over, without much more urging. Mikey noted his taut muscles, the way he held his tall head high, how his tail loosely (only because it didn't have the freedom, he assumed) curled over his shell; how his lip pulled back, his teeth bared. He stomped up to him and the mirror and huffed angrily at his reflection. A weak laugh bubbled in his chest. Donnie stared at him, head tilted, then glanced back down, his eyes softening. Mikey watched as Donnie bobbed his head experimentally, up and down, left and right. His light eyes returned again to smoldering, were doused, then lit up again, and he cycled through emotions as he persisted in considering it. The desire, the need, to say something boiled in Mikey's chest, but he bit his tongue because interrupting him now would utterly ruin it. This prompted provocation; it was stirring; Donnie needed to think .
And, looking, D definitely looked like he was thinking. His eyes were intent on the mirror; he wasn't moving anymore, except for the rise and fall of his chest and his pupils shifting as they took it in. The mirror and he flashed in the black almonds, but Donnie took no notice of him any longer. It was all his image cast, and, at length, he gingerly reached forward and nudged the surface with his nose.
The movement pushed Mikey a bit, but the pulling away of the mirror was his own. Donnie stared at him, surprised, suddenly acknowledging his presence once more as he whispered, " You don't get it."
Donnie tipped his head, chittering lowly, almost cautiously. Mikey's head swam with fire, and a sick knot had bound itself around his heart. "Don-Don," Mikey murmured, imploring Donnie's head down, "what can we do ? We're trying so hard and… We don't want it to hurt you. That's the last thing we wanna do. Donnie, what can we—" He halted because he knew his words fell on deaf ears. It was just hurting Donnie, letting him hear this… this bullshit. He needed positivity, so what was Mikey, the beacon of hope, the light at the end of the tunnel, the glue, doing talking to D like this? Mikey collected all the pieces of his heart and reassembled them, simultaneously pushing everything else back. He laughed (though he admitted it was feeble and that he could do better) and grinned at him. "It's okay though, 'cause we're gonna keep trying, and we're not gonna give up!"
Donnie squinted at him. His lips were pressed into a tight frown, but shortly they parted. He heaved a giant human sigh and shook his head. His eyes were dull when he looked up again, and Mikey's raveled heart was tugged tighter. His poor brother was clearly tired. Tired of all the confusion, all of the pain he couldn't grasp. And it was their fault.
"It's okay, Donnie." Mikey kept his voice softer, hopefully more genuine.
"Everything's gonna be fine."
"Hey, Raph, where's the remote?"
"Goddammit, you had it last, Mikey!"
"Well, I can't find it."
"We missed the ball drop last year, and I swear to god if we miss it again—"
"Uh, guys... it's right here."
"Thank fucking god, Leo."
April sat silently on the couch, watching the fiasco conclude. Mikey had been running around for quite a bit now, and April had helped at first. But she took note that Donnie seemed on edge, and she'd retired to pet his neck and tell him it was okay. His head was in her lap now; his eyes fixed on his brothers. They were all settling on the couch too as Casey exited the kitchen with a bottle of water.
Donnie snuffled at Casey and his bottle as he fell onto the couch. The boy smiled lightly at him and patted his snout while he said quietly, "So, I'm guessing Mikey found the remote?" Donnie had shifted to dedicate his attention to Casey; Donnie's head lay in Casey's lap now as he stroked his jaw.
"Oh, yeah…" April watched as Donnie pushed himself suddenly closer, then asked, "So, you and Donnie are a proper thing?"
Casey remained mute for quite a few beats, fondling Donnie's neck in a more subdued manner, until he replied, "Well, I sure as hell hope so with all the shit I gotta deal with. You guys have no idea how hard I gotta fight my old man to stay over this long anymore. He's real pissed I ain't gonna be over for New Year's, and I feel kinda bad, but, hey…" His eyes went fond on Donnie. "Whatever."
Casey's conflict pricked like needles at the back of her conscience, and she smiled sympathetically. "I think he'll appreciate you being here," she said.
"He does." Casey paused for a second, then resumed his caressing, eyes narrowed just a bit. "You're still gonna do it tonight?"
"He still hasn't—"
"Five minutes!" Mikey said abruptly. He had a grin that looked a bit too wide, and his suppressed pain rumbled oh so faintly in April's head. "I kinda wanted to see it in person this time, but, like, this is cool too." His eyes were on Donnie.
"Beats not seeing it at all." Raph's eyes, on the other hand, were locked on Mikey and sparking with intent.
"It's really cold, anyway." Leo, eager as ever to diffuse.
"Yeah," Mikey said absently.
It was constrictingly silent for a few moments before April asked, "Is Splinter coming soon?"
"He should be," Leo said. "He's probably meditating right now, actually. I'll go… get him." And Leo left.
"Hurry!" Mikey called after him. "Two minutes!"
"God," Casey said, "this year's really gone by slow."
"Really? I felt like it went by pretty fast," Mikey replied.
"You didn't have to deal with school shit."
"Well, yeah…"
And it was quiet again, all except for Donnie's dog groans. It remained that way for a minute and a bit until Leo returned with Splinter. Donnie picked his head up promptly and warbled an enthusiastic greeting; he butted Casey's hand before slinking over and shoving his forehead against Splinter's chest.
"Raph, scoot over so Splinter can sit down," Mikey said then, leaning forward with some of the familiar glow in his eyes as he kept a close eye on the countdown.
"Right."
Donnie followed Splinter closely all the way to the couch, at which he just laid down at the base and put his jaw on the cushion. He seemed completely oblivious to the anticipation buzzing in the room; that, or he didn't care. It was surprisingly difficult to reach Donnie's emotions, and, even when she succeeded, she could only grasp it for a split second before it slipped away again. Donnie had erected a mental barrier, she knew, before this, to challenge her, but she doubted it was still present in his… state. She didn't quite understand why, though she had a few theories.
But it didn't matter now. There were thirty seconds left until midnight.
The crowd on the television hummed with intensifying life as it grew nearer and nearer, and so did her group, more subtly. Donnie watched them now, head slanted.
Ten seconds, and Donnie was huffing now. Just for a moment, the air tingled with curiosity and frustration.
Five seconds, and he was about to put his head down again.
At midnight, he yelped as the T.V. roared and the guys clapped; as Casey grasped Donnie's head and pecked him on the nose. He looked utterly flabbergasted, his eyes round, his jaw parted. His expression pinched at Casey like he was considering long and hard before he slowly nudged Casey's neck. The boy's ears were red; he averted everyone's eyes and stared at Donnie's neck, scratching his chin. And Donnie seemed to forget everything that had just transpired, and he purred.
April waited for a bit until Donnie had gotten comfortable and relaxed again. Until everyone had, really. He was a bit away from her in the same location, his eyes clearly heavy, his forelimbs tucked under him. It appeared uncomfortable, she thought, but he didn't seem at all bothered by it.
She was preparing to open her mouth before relucting. He looked so peaceful and calm and… did she really want to disturb him? Yes, because we'll get our Donnie back, her mind said, but her heart tugged. She mulled for a few seconds, then clicked for him.
Donnie blinked a few times, raising his head subsequently and flitting his eyes over everyone. Again she clicked, and Donnie yawned before dragging himself to her.
She sensed everyone's eyes burning into her, hope mixed with hesitation and uncertainty. All except for Splinter's and Donnie's, the latter of which were fuzzy and content as she gingerly settled her palms on Donnie's temples. He wasn't the least bit concerned and even nuzzled her wrist. She felt his gentle pulse under her fingers while he stilled. He met her stare with hazy blue eyes, cool as ice, with shimmers of trust slicing occasionally through the mist to gleam at her.
Grief tugged at her heart with the knowledge she would have to disrupt this. She wished he didn't have to be so unaware, that she was doing this with consent, that she didn't have to hurt him. But it would only help him later, and the idea mustered enough will.
"Hey, Donnie," she said, using a free finger to brush his cheek, "I'm sorry I have to do this, but I promise it will only hurt for a minute. Just bear with me, okay?"
He chirred obliviously.
April heaved a sigh and collected all of her energy—
And Donnie screamed.
