Power Struggles

Donatello tossed and turned in his bed. The covers were too warm, the air too cool. His brain wouldn't shut off. He glanced at the 80's glowing digital alarm clock on his bedside table. It read 2 A.M. Medes pulsed and hovered up from its position at his feet, lighting the room as he sat up.

"It's not gonna happen. Sleep is definitely not on the cards for tonight."

Several thoughts floated past the front of his mind. Options for gaining the rest he so desperately needed. Melatonin tablets, Sensei's special tea, even a change of scenery. Maybe he could crash on the cot in the lab.

"Medes, stop. I'm tired, but there's something else going on. Something..."

Don hated when a thought hovered out of reach. The persistent feeling of something he needed to do annoyed him and nothing was going to help him sleep until he figured out what he missed.

The soul gave a little wiggle he interpreted as the equivalent of a shrug. A sort of 'suit yourself.' They were so connected it didn't need to speak to say volumes. Obviously, Medes wasn't convinced he needed to get up.

Donnie shook his head and rolled out of bed. The lab was as good a place as any to think his way through whatever bothered him. Out of habit, he veered into the kitchen and reached for the coffee machine, but Medes swept through the door and swatted his hand away.

"Alright. ALRIGHT!" Donatello said in frustration as the little purple light made another pass, this time at his head. "I get it. No late night caffeine." He poured a glass of water instead and rubbed his eyes blearily as he trudged on to the lab.

He flopped into his chair and waited as his monitors glowed to life, absently flicking through the security feeds. Just as absently, he twisted his fingers and a pen appeared, spinning between them, glowing violet before solidifying completely.

The cameras were clear and the system fully online. Medes rested at his side as he checked the structure of the shield and sent a brief surge of energy to make sure it functioned correctly. Even with less power in the central crystal after Luna's desperate grab, everything appeared ok. The barrier should hold for some time.

He leaned back in his chair, tapping his foot with the pen. Possibly this agitation came from the goddess herself. Despite the rescue of Michelangelo and the recovery of her final soul, she was still fragmented. And the guilt didn't help. Their youngest sibling was scarred. His smile had disappeared. He moved through the day on autopilot and he didn't sleep well alone. Most nights Luna stayed beside him, even though his brother couldn't bear her touch.

Don sighed.

Emotional recovery was a long process and they were all suffering with him. The goddess assumed guilt because she did not arrive in time to save him from the assault, but Donnie knew the blame lay with himself. Mikey only acted and got caught because he didn't react. Too stubborn to rescue Medes and do what needed to be done.

Donatello tried to keep his own regret cut off from his beloved. He didn't want her to feel any worse, but the internal shield he erected kept him detached from her feelings. Now, he deliberately dropped the barrier and probed at the bond like a sore tooth. Endless exhaustion and sorrow overwhelmed him.

He shot Medes a glare. "Why didn't you say something? She's beat."

Luna needed to rest. He could sit with Mikey tonight. He pushed himself to his feet and sleepily trudged toward the infirmary. As he crossed the main room, Raphael descended the stairs, trailing a red glow as Fina swooped in behind. Donnie raised a brow.

"You feel it too?" Raph asked.

"Restless? Exhaustion pushing at the back of your eyes, but not sleeping by dent of pure willpower?"

His brother nodded.

"Yeah," Don said. "It's time she took a break." He glanced around. "I'm surprised Leonardo isn't down here too."

The hot-head grunted. "Leo is part of the problem."

"Oh? I wasn't aware we had one. Besides, you know: a homicidal king, a traumatized brother, a soul-stealing demon godling, and whatever else the universe decides to throw at us."

Raphael gave him a level look.

"Don't, Don. You don't do sarcasm well."

Mikey slept but Luna straightened in her chair as they rounded the corner. The brothers exchanged a loaded glance. She was a mess, drooping and wired by turns. Her hair was limp, her clothing rumpled. Silver light pulsed and spilled out as fatigue undermined her control. And she pressed her fingertips to her temples in response to an ever present headache.

Donatello nodded to Raph who, without a word, scooped the goddess up in his arms.

"But-–"

Donnie cut off her brief protest with a kiss and laid a hand on her arm. In seconds, her skin and hair were clean while her clothes shifted to a comfortable, cotton, thigh-length night shirt.

"Get some sleep," he commanded.

Raphael met his eyes, a silent question lurking in their depths. Don nodded and Raph strode rapidly with her from the room. Donnie checked on his sleeping sibling, patting his shell briefly and settled himself in the nearby chair.

Luna's shields were weak with weariness, so he wasn't surprised to sense what happened next. Raphael had been... hungry. And the change of her clothes sparked a natural reaction. Passion flared in an instant. Their lips were locked before they reached Raph's room. In the next half-hour, his brother wore her out completely, ending her restlessness in the best possible way.

Donatello's eyes drifted shut and he let himself enjoy the situation vicariously without shame. He could have re-raised his own internal shields and blocked them out, but he didn't feel the jealousy Leo did. At least, not anymore. That emotion died sometime during his own painful transformation.

Perhaps because he wasn't her first bonded, or possibly because he had chosen her anyway, knowing she would end up bound to them all, but since the moment of his acceptance, he understood. They belonged to Luna and she to them. Pleasing each other was natural and necessary. Eventually, such feelings would spill over and there was no use getting bent out of shape over it. Besides, it wasn't like he experienced Raph's side of things...

The tension in Don's body faded as a dreamy lassitude crept over him. He chuckled at the satiated feeling and, as Luna drifted into the oblivion of sleep, he opened his eyes.

Michelangelo sat straight up, staring at him. His eyes were huge, his face flushed, and from the uncomfortable way he shifted, his shell was way too tight.

Crap. Way to go, Donnie. You should have shielded him. He doesn't have enough control to raise his own yet and he DIDN'T need an explicit reminder.

His eyes darted around seeking Trine. It wasn't in the room and it hadn't gone with Luna.

Why didn't the soul protect Mikey from this?

He scanned his brother's face to see what reaction his mistake had triggered.

"Mikey, I'm-"

"That was nothing like what happened with Serra."

Don blinked. His brother had not spoken at all of what occurred in that cursed room and no one wanted to force him to talk. But from the state they found him in and his current behavior, they assumed the worst. If he wanted to share, admit what occurred, it was a good sign. He focused, giving Michelangelo his full attention.

"Luna is not Serra," he said, knowing it was obvious, but deliberately expressing the comparison to reassure Mikey and keep him talking.

"She did some of the same things, though."

Shit. Oh shit. I've probably set him back months of healing time. I don't know if I can fix this...

Donnie stared him straight in the eye, chocolate brown offering unwavering support to fragile baby blue.

"I'm sorry, Mikey. Luna is fairly aggressive with Raph, but he likes aggressive. She's not going to pressure you into anything you're not ready for. I'll talk to her and we'll make sure you're doubly shielded–"

"I know," Michelangelo said with a shake of his head, "That's not the problem. I want to want Luna."

"Oh. So..."

"I didn't want to want Serra," he whispered, staring at the floor. His face filled with tension and his lips trembled. "But it happened anyway."

It? What does he...

Don's eyes narrowed then widened as Mikey gestured to his lower torso. Because his body responded to Serra's sexual abuse he thought he was responsible.

"Michelangelo," Donatello said, voice low and fierce. "Look at me. Nothing was your fault. You hear me? Nothing."

"But I couldn't stop it, Donnie!" he said, words bursting forth in a heedless flurry. "She touched me and it felt- I don't know!- disgusting. And yet... She used her tongue and I fought, Donnie! I fought! I tried those techniques Splinter taught us, but she hurt me. Shoved her thumb into my thigh." He whimpered and his eyes glistened with unshed tears. "And I still couldn't stop myself from... Why? Why couldn't I stop, Donnie?"

Michelangelo's pleading broke Don's heart. Obviously, he'd asked himself the question for quite some time and there was an explanation. But scientific descriptions of physiology would probably be too complex, so instead he asked a query of his own.

"Mikey, when we spar and Raph clobbers you, what happens?"

His brother looked at him like he had lost his mind at the change of subject, but he answered anyway.

"I hit him back."

"No, I mean to the spot you got kicked?"

"It hurts for a little while. Sometimes turns into a bruise if he landed a good one." He raised his brows confused and his eyes cleared a little. "This going somewhere?"

Don nodded. "Can you stop the pain with those techniques Splinter taught?"

"Uh, well they help me ignore it some, but I can't say the pain actually stops. They focus me on something else."

"And can you keep the bruise from forming?"

"Of course not."

"Why?"

"The damage has already been done. Blood is escaping under the skin. I can't do anything about that."

"Exactly right. There are certain ways your body reacts to a physical stimulus you can't consciously control. What you're asking about is the same thing."

"No, it's not. Bruises don't come from emotions, but this does. I-I must have secretly wanted her. I-I betrayed Luna. So I-I can't let her near me."

"I can see how you might think so, but we're not talking about physical attraction here. The sexual response is triggered by sensations; touch and pheromones. This was something done to you, Mikey, just like the bruise."

Raphael paused to wipe the sweat from his brow before turning again to the bag in front of him and unleashing another round of intense strikes. He precisely placed each blow, as muscles long used to such demands flexed smoothly in response to his commands. He fell into a light trance, lulled by the repetitive rhythm of the motions. His thoughts drifted.

Somebody had to say something to Leonardo. His older brother's moodiness and self-imposed isolation were hurting Luna. Raph understood his feelings and would usually let him deal on his own terms, but the second the goddess became involved he made it his business.

Approaching any of his brothers to talk seriously about emotions was not something he enjoyed contemplating, but after his success with Mikey this morning, it might turn out ok.

He was surprised to find Michelangelo in the dojo after breakfast. His brother usually avoided their training room unless ordered in, but today the orange-banded turtle occupied Raph's accustomed space; beating the crap out of a suspended punching bag.

He raised a brow but didn't interrupt. He grunted a brief mornin' before heading to the back to throw himself into a set of pull-ups. His brother drifted nearer, moving his own workout to the open mat in front of Raphael.

It didn't take a genius to figure out Mikey had something on his mind and needed to work up the courage to spill it. Raph dropped to the floor with a deliberate thump, making the younger turtle glance up from his stretching.

"Wanna spar?" he asked.

The eagerness with which he agreed was almost frightening. When Michelangelo wanted to fight he was a force to be reckoned with, but that didn't dissuade Raphael from taking his place on the mat opposite.

With a formal bow, they began.

Mikey dove into the session with no hint of his former playfulness. He struck hard, pushing the boundaries of the safety rules they practiced with to minimize injuries, but Raph met him blow for blow.

As the intensity of the encounter increased, the hot-head smiled. He knew his little brother could be lethal but rarely did Mikey let out his feelings on the dojo floor. Today, if his face was anything to go by, he was furious.

It was a step in the right direction. For weeks, Michelangelo had been a ghost of himself and they all worried about his withdrawal, despite Trine and Luna's constant reassurance. But Raphael understood fury. Channeled correctly, it could cleanse.

Twenty minutes in, they were both starting to flag as the non-stop movement took its toll. Raph pushed him hard, but though the workout allowed for the venting of some anger, Mikey needed something more.

On the next round, Raph let his foot slide slightly out of place. The position was a minuscule breach of form, but Michelangelo pounced on the mistake and laid him out with a complex series of attacks ending in a sweeping kick. In seconds he landed atop the older turtle, pinning him in place, the gleam of victory in his eyes.

Raphael grunted sourly and scowled up at Mikey before he tapped out, but inside he smirked. His brother simply needed a little reassurance, proof he wasn't helpless anymore. As Michelangelo pulled him to his feet, Raph clapped him on the shoulder in congratulations.

The younger turtle's eyes widened. Such a move equaled a hundred 'good jobs' from Leonardo.

"Raph, I-" Mikey began, but emotion overcame him.

Liquid pooled in his baby blue eyes and trailed down his cheeks. He dropped his gaze rapidly to the floor and grabbed one elbow, trying to hide the weakness of tears. He hadn't cried since they returned. He thought only Trine knew about the pain he held inside.

He was wrong.

When the larger turtle's arms wrapped around him, engulfing him in a bear hug of the type they hadn't shared since childhood, he gasped. Abandoning all propriety, Michelangelo began to sob, burying his face in his brother's sweaty shoulder as Raphael pulled him close.

"It's gonna be ok, Mike. Everything's gonna be alright."

Leonardo relaxed from his stiff meditative posture with a sigh. He had been concentrating all afternoon, but no matter how hard he tried, true peace was destined to elude him. Even the quiet and soothing incense of the meditation room didn't help.

Every time he closed his eyes the rage and guilt rushed in to overwhelm him.

He had thought himself beyond such issues, but he never had to contend with the immense force of Luna's out of control frenzy before. Madness that could have been prevented. But as guilty as he felt about losing his cool during the battle for Michelangelo, it was nothing compared to the regret of failing to protect his little brother in the first place.

The remorse ate away at his emphatic shields until he couldn't keep the sentiments of the others at bay. Luna, Donnie, and Mikey were consumed with guilt and Raphael with anger. Each day their emotions weighed a little heavier on his soul and he slowly succumbed to despair.

A light tap on the entry surround made him turn though he might have predicted the visitor from the disturbance which preceded him. His youngest brother crouched stealthily in the doorway, altered so much by recent events he was almost unrecognizable.

The innocent little turtle who always wore a cheerful smile and brightened their home with his light had disappeared. In his place lurked a suspicious being who hid in the shadows and jumped at the slightest provocation.

Leo hated seeing him this way, yet as Trine swooped into the room, he was reminded Luna's soul chose Mikey anyway, despite the tragedy. As if reading his thoughts, Michelangelo offered him a small, wry smile and a tiny wave.

The expression was a pale reflection of the past but more than Leonardo had seen from his brother since their return. Perhaps his light still burned; trapped under the pain and sorrow. Hope swelled in his chest. If that was the case, Leo swore he would not rest until he had unburied it. With an answering smile, he turned and beckoned his brother in beside him.

"I do not know how to help him."

Luna spun as she reached the end of the small room Splinter claimed as his own and stormed rapidly back toward the other side. Worry and pain evident in her every motion.

The wise rat's head tracked her movements as she swept back and forth, a wild bird seeking an escape from a cage. Her frustration battered at the walls like frantic wings and her voice fluttered with concern. Each stride consumed a quarter of the space so her pacing was extremely curtailed, adding to the tension.

Silver light seeped from her form, pulsing and flaring with her temper in waves she could not seem to suppress.

"He is steeped in guilt. He believes I do not see , but it shadows his eyes every time I am in his presence," she said, a note of panic in her voice. "He won't even stay in the same room with me. His mind and soul are in chaos and he burns himself with shame."

She drew in a deep breath and collapsed on the cushion in front of his tea table, dropping her head into her hands and pressing her temples in pain. Splinter narrowed his gaze and engaged his second sight, scanning his daughter carefully. The light shone even brighter to his inner eyes, the pulsing rapidly, out of control.

"The headaches persist?"

He kept his tone calm, despite his deep concern. Not about his son, for he knew why Leonardo felt guilty. That would work itself out in time. It was not her problem to solve. No, his anxiety existed solely for the goddess in front of him, because a quiet word with Hades confirmed what the old Master already guessed. His daughter was suffering.

She regained full access to her immortal life force and all her strength with the addition of Michelangelo's bond. Perhaps even eclipsing her premortal levels of energy, if the old god could be believed. But the excess took an extreme toll on her physical form and he feared what would happen if her mortal body, created by another, ceased to be.

Would she be free to return to her life as the immortal goddess she once was? Or was she now something completely different? If so, would she, could she retake human shape to remain with their family?

And what of her soul?

Sol, Fina, Medes, and Trine though reunited were still parts of a whole.

He sighed, uncertain what outcome to hope for. With Zeus revealed as the architect of her misfortunes, it was unlikely he would honor the conditions of her banishment and allow the fragments to properly recombine.

But if they did, could his son's manage without them?

Though occasionally a nuisance, the little ones had become a vital part of their lives. Bestowing adoration and wisdom wherever they went in slightly unequal measure. He smiled at the thought. He was fond of each of them.

They stopped by to 'speak' with him several times a day. Sometimes with words, but mostly with sincere projections of love, determination, reassurance, protection, honor, and hope. The manifestation of his family's ideals.

In his eyes, their clan was no longer a small unit of five but had grown to a staggering total of ten. Losing them would cause consternation and grief. He hoped recombination wouldn't be necessary for Luna's redemption.

None of the little ones currently graced the room. As usual, the goddess requested their absence so she might confer with him in private. It was the sole time she allowed herself to vent, to articulate her very human fears.

In the past, this practice left her effectively blind, but now... At full power, she no longer needed one of the fragments with her to see. Luna stared up at him with beseeching silver eyes. They were striking, the embodiment of the stars.

Splinter's heart melted as she winced and nodded in answer to his almost forgotten query. Donatello had diligently sought the cause and reluctantly reported after several scans the most probable reason her power remained in such flux was... Michelangelo.

Two weeks had passed since the bonding but it had not been consummated. Luna was not about to rush him after his ordeal, but she could not truly share her burden until he accepted her.

Splinter sighed. As a father, he could not bear to see her continue in such agony, yet he was as unwilling as she to pressure his son into something he for which he was not ready. Perhaps he could offer a partial solution; temporary relief from the overbearing energy.

The answer lay below them, singing in the depths of the ground and reverberating with the deceptive calm of his eldest, its creator. Luna could no longer touch the crystal structure beneath their home without instigating a destructive wave of feedback. Her aura pulsed with far too much strength. But he could.

He closed his eyes and stretched out with his thoughts, reaching toward the vast pool pulsating under them. The power welcomed him, greeting him as family and promising seductively to fulfill whatever wish he desired. When he requested, a small siphon connecting to Luna it acquiesced immediately, forming a link which drained off a small portion of her excess.

Having access to such a vast resource almost frightened him, tempting him in a most unhealthy way. He was old, feeling more so every day and this power could redeem him. Restore him to his prime so he could offer his children more than simply wisdom.

He shook off those thoughts as unworthy and turned his 'sight' back to his complex daughter. Already, some of her pain eased and she stared up at him with grateful, surprised eyes.

"I believe that will help for a time, my child," he murmured with a smile. "And will ensure the battery which powers our protections remains charged."

It wouldn't last forever. The node held a finite amount, the benefits would fade as it reached capacity, but perhaps it would be enough to carry them through this final hurdle. He patted her hand with affection. As for her other difficulty, conceivably the couple would be best served by some time alone.

"I will speak with Leonardo. In the meantime, I suggest some air. It is most confining underground for long periods of time, and I believe it will be a beautiful night out tonight."

"Out?"

Her eyes grew dreamy at the thought of being under the stars. Feeling the soothing presence of her mother and breathing in the open.

"Wouldn't that be tempting fate?"

"My child, you are no longer weak. The humans offer you no danger. And cowering in terror of what might be is not living. After dinner, take Michelangelo and go enjoy the night."