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MIT: Denial	By : Ghost-of-a-Chance Category: +S through Z > Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Views: 1181 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own TMNT, Hellboy, or any mentioned music, movies, etc; I make no money from this. I DO own Alesha, Maggie, Dante, the Willows, and Amber...and coffee. LOTS of COFFEE.

Chapter List
- 1-MIT: Denial
- 2-51: Secrets, Solutions, Certainty
- 1
- 2
Warning: This oneshot contains strong language, questionable (childish, absurd, and caffeine-provoked) humor, alcohol use, adults behaving immaturely, and mild UST.
Like all of my stories labeled "MIT," this standalone oneshot occurs during my Elementals series, and can be read alone or otherwise. "Denial" takes place long before "Tornado Warning," and several months before Donatello and Alesha are sent to Missouri. The alliance between the BPRD and the Hamato family is still young, and the brothers are in training. Raphael and his mentor Dante are making progress, but Donatello was assigned to Alesha - for every step in the right direction, several more are taken in reverse. A word of warning—I blame this entire thing on COFFEE and SUGAR.

In the 2014 movie, when Raphael reveals that his shell's been cracked, Donatello uses the word 'Badass;' based on Raph's skeptical 'you're kidding, right?' expression, I find it hard to believe that Donnie's prone to frequent cursing. Finally, I do NOT promote cursing—it's a nasty habit, and tends to repel people, but it can be less nasty than other habits...for instance, shooting drano, kicking puppies, and posting excessive drama on social media. OY.
Hope y'all enjoy, and have a great day.
Suggested listening:
[Survivor – "I Can't Hold Back"]
[Imagine Dragons – "Demons"]

Denial
Friday's last mission before lunch had started out as a simple, no risk, in-and-out courtesy visit–so much so, that Amber had only sent Donatello and Maggie. Then the two-some stepped through the front door and found themselves in a cluster-fuck of the worst sort.
Records had indicated that they would be checking up on an inu-youkai couple who had missed several appointments with their caseworkers. When the Citizenship Support Division finally got them on the phone, the husband explained they'd been under a lot of pressure, and had lost track of time. Per CSD policy, a duo of BPRD agents had been sent in lieu of a CSD caseworker, just in case; their orders had said nothing about a hostage situation.
The wife had been snatched by the Purple Dragons, who had been recruiting from the emerging More-Than-Human population finally eligible for citizenship. Accompanying them had been a twelve foot troll, an incredibly ill-tempered lycan, and an Oni with an unusual fondness for spiked leather and throwing knives; every one of the three were on the BPRD's watch list. Rather than risk his mate's life, the sandy-haired youkai had bowed to their demands, certain the Bureau wouldn't step up if he told them the truth. After a dragon switched off their trackers and cellphones, smashed them, and threw them down a storm drain, they had no way to call for backup. To make matters worse, the Oni recognized Maggie, and was watching her like a hawk. The slightest hint of distraction or concentration--anything that might suggest she might be using any of the multitude of nature-type skills at her disposal--she was left ducking kunai and punches. As they scrambled for options and tried to reason with their captors, another team unexpectedly burst into the small apartment: Mikey, Raph, Alesha, and Raph's mentor, a control type Spirit Elemental named Dante.
One tense, chaotic hour later, the captured criminals were carted off – many with several bullet wounds apiece and three with severe cases of the 'poison whatevers' around their necks, wrists, and ankles. The oni wasn't expected to live; even if he did wake up, though, the brain injury, broken back, and bullet wounds combined gave him a grim outlook. The youkai couple were unharmed and had been brought in for evaluation and statements, and the team's injuries had been treated. Four o'clock found everyone gathered in Alesha's apartment, weary, sore, and too tired to think. The kitchen counter had been partially buried under empty pizza boxes and dirty dishes from an impromptu meal.
Mikey and Maggie had taken over the tv and PS3, and were playing co-op on Diablo 3. Dante lay sprawled out in a recliner with his grungy ball cap over his eyes, snoring to beat the band. Raph lounged on the sofa with a couple cans of cheap beer, leafing through an automotive magazine he'd found on the coffee table. Alesha and Donatello sat around the kitchen table, armed respectively with a chilled IPA and a huge mug of coffee, half-heartedly considering the mess of parts strewn over it. It was still as cluttered as the first time he'd carried her unconscious self to her bed, but the contents had changed. Some things were missing, some new ones added, and if he wasn't mistaken, there were far more peppermint wrappers in the mix.
"Any luck?" Don asked, indicating the still taped shut roll-out dishwasher. He needed to top off his coffee, but his throbbing feet disagreed.
"Meh," Alesha answered. "Heatin' el'ment's cracked, an' the agitator parts vanished in Arkansas. Replacements're late. Pump's fixed, though, an' it doesn't leak anymore - step forward, step back an' all." Silence stretched on a while, punctuated only by Dante mumbling "moves like Jagga, Doll," in his sleep.
"Hey," Don pointed out something half-buried in a pile of hardware and peppermint wrappers. It looked like a fuse for some vehicle's something or other. "That's not from the dishwasher." Alesha scrutinized the small bit of plastic and metal, just as lazily as he did.
"Oh," she answered off hand. "No wonder the Kraken's radio kicked the bucket. Fergot to put the fuse in."
"That'll do it."
"Guess I better quit tellin' Vega it's her fault for traumatizin' it with Garth Brooks, huh?" Don shrugged lazily, tempted to poke the stray fuse from boredom, but too tired to actually do it.
"What a day," he mumbled after a long silence. "I'm pretty sure this is what excrement feels like."
"Donnie," Raph groused. "Just say it—ya feel like shit. How HARD is dat?"
"Got ya beat, Bo-dacious," Alesha quipped at Don, the nickname startling him. "I feel like dead excrement."
"Dead road-killed excrement," he one upped her, his deer-in-the-headlights expression melting into a lazy grin. She'd been trying to cut back on her habit of cursing like a sailor, and had been getting creative with 'non-profane' curses; he doubted 'dead excrement' would have anymore lasting power than 'dead shit,' but whatever, E for Effort.
"Dead road-killed excrement flattened by a diesel."
"An' dere dey go again," Raph snarked as he turned a page. "I'm gonna need more beer at this rate."
"Dead road-killed excrement flattened by a diesel with a possum on top."
"Yeah?" the brunette smirked, a competitive gleam in her dark brown eyes. "Beat THIS! I feel like dead road-killed excrement flattened by a diesel with a possum on top, cooked into a tar patty from a whole summer's worth of Texas heat durin' El Nino!" Don considered what he could possibly add on, while Raph, Mikey, and Maggie all gaped, Raph in disgust, the other two in awe.
"Ya two make me SICK," Raph grumbled. "Ya even flirt like nerds." Alesha winced, her gaze fastening on the trio of wedding rings displayed in the curio cabinet.
Of course, Don thought tersely. The minute things started getting better between them, the elephant in the room got restless and it got tense again. Why did Don feel so intimidated by a dead man he knew next to nothing of, when she didn't even see him that way? His good humor squelched, Don picked through the pile of spare parts to hide his reaction. A moment later, he dug out a long, tangled charge cord, passing it to Alesha.
"Oh, hey!" she grinned, picking apart the knots. "I wondered where that went–my pager's almost dead."
"The things one can find if they clean the table, right?"
"Lemme know if ya find my sense'a humor," Raph snarked. "It ran away ta join the circus durin' the dead shit contest. You two need someSERIOUS THERAPY."
"Ain't that a bit of the cat callin' the dog a hairball?" Alesha fired back, telekinetically flicking him between the eyes. "Ramona says she found you an' Vega in the sparrin' room in an…incriminating situation." Sure enough, Raph exploded. At his nonsensical sputtering, dark blush, and blustering glower, Mikey and Maggie burst into giggles.
"'AT AIN'T WHUT HAPPENED!" the hotheaded terrapin bellowed, startling Dante awake, and sending him to the floor in a heap. "Da BITCHCHEATED! She NUT-CHECKED me!"
"Day-yam," Dante muttered, hoisting himself back into the chair. "Touchy?"
"Young love," Alesha beamed smugly. "She took yer breath away AN' drove ya to yer knees at the SAME TIME…I hear weddin' bells." He chucked the nearest throw pillow at her head. When she ducked, Don caught it in mid-air and lobbed it right back.
"Simmer, Big Guy," Dante grinned, peering slyly out from under the bill of his hat. "Only an idjit starts a pilla' fight with a telekinetic troublemaker. Just ignore'er. As for you, Al," She winced at the stern gleam in his blue eyes. "Behave. You ain't too big for a whoopin', an' yer mother ain't too old to give ya one." Humbled, she muttered an apology to her cantankerous guest, and ducked into the kitchen to refill drinks.
After three hours of lounging, whining, and horsing around, the party officially broke up. When eight rolled around, Donatello and Alesha sprawled out on the sectional, only half-way paying attention to the movie they'd put on. Honestly, Don couldn't even recall the title–when she'd bent down to put the DVD in, he'd been a little too distracted by her plump backside to hear a word she was saying. He didn't quite understand why, but Alesha kept shooting him unreadable glances. About halfway through the movie she ducked into the kitchen, staring into the open fridge, clutching the door in a white-knuckle grip. She spoke suddenly, never turning around.
"You okay?"
Startled, he turned to her; she hadn't moved a muscle, and her shoulders were drawn painfully tight. Where had that come from? "Are you?" A brief shudder ran through her shoulders. "Al–" Before he could get her full name out, she rushed to his side, pausing the movie as she sank into the sofa beside him.
Coffee brown eyes focused on the worst of his wounds–a long, deep gash in his right shoulder that had needed several stitches. Naked worry clenched her brows, pain welling in her eyes. His heart thundered against his plastron when she absent-mindedly smoothed dusky fingertips over the gauze wrapped wound, stilling on the dark bruising surrounding it. Her throat clenched painfully, recalling the moment it happened. A mere moment sooner, and the airborne blade would've slit his throat; a moment later, and he'd have lost his arm below the shoulder. If she hadn't fainted from over-exertion when she had, that foul oni would have been dead rather than comatose.
"A…Alesha?" Donatello's confused stammer snapped her from her musings.
"Sorry," she muttered, smoothing the bandage tape back down as she silently contemplated the reason he and Maggie still lived.
"How did you know we needed backup?" he asked seriously. A slight wince confirmed his assumption that she'd sounded the alarm. "They ditched our trackers and phones. We weren't able to call for backup. So how did you know we needed help?" The dark-haired woman stared through his bandaged shoulder, off in another world.
"Ya know," she murmured. "Bein' an Elemental ain't all it's cracked up to be. People expect us to use our skills to the greatest advantage–like Spirits should control the stock market, an' prevent crime, or Earth types should prevent natural disasters, or somethin'. It's not so simple as all that."
As she had so often before, she glanced over at the curio cabinet, where the two wedding rings and engagement ring hung on a wooden ring holder carved into the shape of a bare tree. "If it were so easy as all that, Da–He, would still be alive. I'd…" She scowled in frustration. "I'd've woken–I'd have been able...to…."
Nothing had changed during her time with the BPRD…she still couldn't even say her late husband's name without shutting down. She still couldn't talk about it, still let the painful memories define her life. Frustrated, she changed the subject.
"They meant to kill ya both," she stated dryly, remembering the premonition that had driven her frantic with fear. "Someone has a grudge against your brothers–"
"Who'd have thought," Don muttered.
"They'd expected Amber to send ya alone, or with one-a-yer brothers, not with Maggie. Even I hadn't expected to see Maggie with you."
"I think it was a last minute decision," he answered. "I'm cleared for unsupervised missions, so Amber planned to send Mikey with me. Then he put ink in Amber's tea." He studied her troubled countenance, thinking back on the day Mikey's heart stopped…and why she'd been there when it happened. Flooding, Electrocution, Mikey's death followed by his own, was what the premonition had shown…all on the night of her favorite team's first loss of the year. "I guess Notre Dame's gonna lose tonight?" he asked with a wry smile. Sure enough, she answered with her signature half-smirk.
"Lose?" she joked. "Hell, those poor saps're gonna get CREAMED." For some inexplicable reason, she blushed heavily. "The premonition didn't show Maggie. Just…just you." Flustered at what she was admitting, she slipped back into the kitchen. Standing before the fridge, she silently considered the multitude of magnets commemorating the multitude of cities, states, and countries she'd traveled to while she was still doing more fieldwork than maintenance. To be able to use her element without exhausting herself and fainting, she thought wistfully. Oh, to have her stamina as it once was, and be off the backburner…what she'd give to see that day….
Don silently considered her words, and what he already knew of her premonitions. She'd told him before that she never saw anything about people she wasn't close to, unless they were related. He and Alesha were most certainly NOT related. Startled at what he'd realized, he recalled her words from the night he found out about the premonitions. 'Fer such a genius, ya sure ain't got 'nuff sense to see what's right in front'a ya.'
Had he really missed something so big, for so long? How could he have not realized? The premonitions had revolved around HIM! Stunned, but quite satisfied, he quietly slipped into the kitchen, pausing at her side. Aware she was no longer alone in the tiny kitchenette, she startled, whipping about to meet the suddenly hazel eyes almost a head higher than her own. Her heart raced as he reached up to her cheek, brushing an errant lock of dark brown hair behind her ear.
"Thank you." His voice had come softly, tinted with affection and warmth. She forced a swallow, her pulse racing. Instead of answering, though, she ducked backward, holding the fridge door open. Taking the hint, he glanced inside; tucked between leftover pizza and two neat rows of beer bottles, two cartons of soda waited expectantly.
Big Blue cream soda…his favorite. How HAD she known?
He turned back to her, inwardly grinning at her dark blush and how she gnawed her lip into submission. She stiffened when he cupped her cheek in his large palm, brushing the pad of his thumb across the emerging blush. "Don…?" she attempted hesitantly, confused. He wasn't her husband…he wasn't David…so why did her heart feel ready to burst from her ribcage for the whole world to see? When he curled his free arm around her, pulling her into an affectionate embrace, all thought of who he was and who he wasn't went right out the proverbial window. She nestled into his arms with a contented sigh. Neither noticed the door of the fridge drift closed.
A loud, frantic knock at the door shattered the moment, sending them scrambling apart. Flustered, Alesha rushed to answer the door. Mikey greeted her on the other side, inviting himself in.
"Hey, Allie!" he greeted cheerfully. "Have you seen Donnie? He didn't show up for–oh." Finally noticing his elder brother in the kitchen, focusing unusually hard on an unopened can of his favorite soda. "There you are, Bruh! Leo's been frantic, trying to get ahold of you–he says you aren't answering your phone!" Don rolled his eyes.
"I see you forgot to tell him the Dragons CHUCKED it down a DRAIN."
"Oh…" Mikey grinned sheepishly. "Yeah…they did, didn't they? Sorry, Donnie." At that moment, he noticed that his brother and Alesha were avoiding one another's gazes, shifting awkwardly on their feet. "Did I interrupt something?"
"NO!" they answered in unison, then blushed at the awkward moment. Not at all convinced, Mikey scrutinized their postures and guilty expressions. They were hiding something…and he had a feeling he knew exactly what they were hiding. 'About time,' he thought smugly.
"Know what?" he said suddenly. "I don't even wanna know. I'll just go tell Leo you're busy."
"We're not-!"
"It's not-!"
"Have a great night, you two. Don't do anything I wouldn't!" As he ducked into the hallway, Alesha chased after him.
"What exactly wouldn't you do, Asshat?!" she barked at his retreating back. In the kitchen, Donatello heaved a frustrated sigh. So much for no cursing...Mikey was sure to tell their brothers he'd walked in on something–the odds of that 'something' being much juicier than reality were over 90%...9% chance that Mikey would forget before he got home. The odds that he'd do the mature thing and keep it to himself were about as high as the odds of Raph and Vega getting along. He'd be hearing about this for WEEKS.
When Alesha returned, locking the door with a grumble, coffee brown met greening hazel through scratched lenses. The moment was over as quickly as it had begun, leaving a pang of regret and awkward silence in its wake.
Later that night, she sat at her computer armed with an Imperial Stout and a bowl of pretzels. Messenger had been pulled up, but none of her friends had signed on. Missouri was silent-Sunny's photography business was booming, and Sander had been working overtime at his construction job. Japan was silent as well, to her surprise. Dakota hadn't been online, nor Bernadette or her mat-haired brother "Beezus." Even her step-sister Rosemary and her cousin Nessa had been mysteriously silent, and those two never went off the radar—they practically needed a twelve step program for Spotify! Dakota's niece Crystal had gotten online just long enough to set her current location to "Ginger Town" and say "Frozen needs to die, and NO, I don't wanna build a fuckin' snowman!" Alesha snickered at that, certain the cryo-kinetic Elemental was being pestered again. Her grandfather, Sebastian, had been online for hours, but she really didn't feel like another lecture from the Spirit Hybrid elder. She was lecturing herself enough for both of them, after all.
Her mind drifted back to the brief moment in the kitchen, when Donatello held her so closely, so tenderly…as though she were something he'd long cherished….
No. It didn't bear thinking about. She was a widow, a woman existing in a time not her own; she couldn't bear the idea of outliving another mate, and thanks to the Willows' screwed up, magic-tainted genetics, she WOULD. Nearly everyone back home believed her dead, and she was happily married to her work. She existed only to serve the BPRD, now—saving the world one maintenance form at a time…SIGH. Still, it was easier to step back, keep Donatello at arms' length, and support him the best she could, than to let him in, and hurt him by doing so.
As she was about to sign off and at least make an effort to find the sleep she knew wouldn't come, someone signed on. Scanning her contacts list, a grin broke out on her face. 'BeatItWithAStick'…the mysterious more-than-human she'd met through her blog…just the person she wanted to talk to. As the two chatted back and forth, her stress from the day melted away. She'd never considered just who the person was, and was content to assume he was just a fellow nerd who liked turtles, purple, inventing advanced machinery, and working on computers. A mere corridor away, a certain purple-clad terrapin sat at his desk, chatting with the mysterious "ClassifiedVioletWoods."
'If only I could meet this Vi Woods,' Donatello thought wryly, relating a joke he'd heard from Mikey that afternoon. Violet's late husband had been a werewolf, and she'd never judged Donatello for his eccentricities. Alesha had never judged him, either, and was clearly as attracted to him as he was to her, but she was either unable or unwilling to move beyond the husband she'd lost years before. He'd seen tonight - seen it in her eyes; she cared for him, wanted him, but she'd still pushed him away just as she always had. Vi, on the other hand, was an open book, even though she admittedly changed names around to protect those she loved. If he could meet Vi, could get to know her in person, could he learn to love her, or would he push her away, as Alesha pushed him away?
When Don and Alesha both signed off the next morning, he stumbled off to the shower, and she turned to fix a cup of borderline-toxic coffee, considering words that began with the letter "D." David, death, Donatello, development, daylight, dumbass….
Night was over and day just begun, but work waited for no one, whether they'd slept or not – especially at the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense. Though the snarky Spirit type still resisted the idea, it was only a matter of time before her resolve wavered, and her troubled friendship with Donatello became much, much more.

A few terms to fill in blanks:
A case of the 'poison whatevers' – allergic dermatitus--occurs as a rash that itches like Hell, hurts like fuck, and spreads like wildfire. Can result from exposure to irritants like poison ivy/oak/sumac, and in some folks, ragweed.

Bodacious- Commonly recognized as surfer lingo, its meaning is something like "'excellent, admirable, or attractive,' or 'audacious in a way considered admirable.' Consider the fact that Donatello fights with a bo staff.

The CSD/Citizenship Support Division- A fictional government agency. After the BPRD successfully secured "non-human entities capable of communication and civilized/peaceful existence" the option of applying for US citizenship, the CSD was founded to handle such affairs. CSD caseworkers help applicants through the process, thus locating applicants who need help, protection, etc.

Elemental – A person who was born with the ability to control/manipulate one of the five elements–water, air, fire, earth, and spirit–or in some cases, a combination of multiple. Those who are a part of the Willow clan also have other oddities—their cellular growth is about half the rate of the average human--they grow slowly, age slowly, heal slowly, etc; not all Willows are born Elementals.

The Kraken – An armoured vehicle Alesha built from a half-size school bus. It is frequently used for agent transport.

MTH/More Than Human- A generalized term used for any sentient inhuman entity, including those with human blood.

Type – Can be used to describe either the element such a person is gifted with, or in the case of Earth and Spirit, a specialty. Earths include Nature, Terra, and Hybrid types, and Spirits include Control, Sensory, and Hybrid types.
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MIT: Denial