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There was no calm before the storm, no time to catch one's breath. It happened quick, it happened loud. One moment they were with their party, victorious and relieved, and the next buried under stone and rubble.
"Anyone there? Mikey? Donnie?" Leonardo coughs, pushing a boulder off of him and struggling to get his bearings. It's dark. He hears a groan a little ways from him and the slider's heart drops into his stomach.
"Donnie! Donnie, I'm coming," he says and has to cough again. The air is filled with dust.
Leonardo crawls toward his brother, making his way through a tight space lined with hunks of concrete and debris and when his left hand touches something warm and soft, he stops.
"Donnie? You okay?" he asks, trying to look his brother over but finding it impossible with practically no eyesight.
"Stuck," the softshell grunts and Leonardo is so relieved he could cry.
"Can't feel m'legs. You?" Donatello continues and that relief morphs into dread. On top of that, the slurred speech indicates a concussion or at least a minor head injury.
"Okay, okay," the slider breathes out, "let's just stay calm. I'm fine. Can you move at all?"
Leonardo feels his brother wiggle, then hears him hiss in pain, and suddenly the soft glow of Donatello's wrist screen illuminates the collapsed space around them.
At once, Leonardo sees why his twin is stuck and his eyes widen in horror. He shudders and can't seem to stop shaking. No. No.
A giant, thick slab of reinforced concrete has Donatello’s lower half pinned against the ground, broken steel rods sticking out of it. He can't see any blood but the sudden waft of copper in the air is unmistakable.
He swallows and inches closer.
"You're… awfully quiet," Donatello wheezes and swipes his finger across the projected screen on his arm. He looks at the readings and Leonardo sees him go a shade paler.
"Oh," he says, and coughs, and blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. Leonardo feels frozen. This isn't happening. Everything was going so well. They got the intel, they were almost out of the building, they–
A sob forces its way out of Leo's mouth and he drags himself all the way to his prone brother. Donatello looks up at him, brows furrowed in the slowly dawning realisation that he might not make it out of here. He sighs and grabs a hold of Leonardo's wrist.
"Well," he mutters, "that's it, then. Time to go say hi to the fam."
Leonardo looks at him in shock. "Don't–don't say that! We can still get you out of here, we can–" he chokes on his words and desperately looks all over the space, searching for a way to get the concrete off his brother. He lifts his prosthetic arm in order to punch the slab to see if it’ll move but Donatello stops him.
"No! This space is not structurally sound, you might bring the building down further. I'm not, hnh, dragging you down with me," Donatello says through gritted teeth and squeezes Leonardo's wrist before letting go. He seems to be getting more coherent so at least he’s not going into shock yet. It’s not a huge comfort, but Leonardo will take it.
"The others will probably get Draxum ‘n dig you out. Be patient."
"Dig us out! Why are you like this?" Leonardo laments, moving to lean over the softshell, reaching down to feel the pulse in Donatello's neck. It’s fast. Leonardo moves his hand away, clenching it into a fist to stop it from shaking.
"Because, my dear brother, I have the data. My legs are pretty much crushed and there's a major spine injury, as– as well as internal bleeding. Sigh. I wanted to go in a blaze of glory, not smothered under rock and concrete. My disappointment knows no bounds." He coughs again and Leonardo unfurls his fingers to wipe off the blood from his cheek. Donatello doesn't even flinch away from the touch.
"This little shelter we have found ourselves in probably also has a limited supply of air, so we should talk as little as possible. So," he smiles, and Leonardo's heart shatters, "SHELLDON will walk you through everything once you log into the system and initiate protocol "In Case Of DD". The admin password to everything is–"
"Bootyyyshaker9000?" Leonardo sniffles, trying to offer a smile of his own. The muscles in his cheeks spasm and he doesn’t know if he succeeds. Donatello chuckles.
"No. It's "I love my family". All in uppercase and underscores between words."
Leonardo draws a shuddering breath and starts crying. Donatello's eyes are shining, too, and he takes Leonardo's hand. The slider threads their fingers together, lifting their joined hands against his chest.
"You can't go yet," he hiccups, "you can't. We'll get out of here, together. Then you can make cool new legs for yourself and be even more insufferably amazing than you already are."
"'Nardo. As much as I dislike invalidating your sudden optimism and praise, I don't even have hours before I'm all out of the red juice. We don't know how long it'll take for the others to find us, of course taking into account that it's quite possible for them to be as stuck as we are. There are so many possibilities that none of us will make it out of here alive."
Leonardo knows his brother is right but he doesn't want to believe it. First dad, then Raph, and now… Leonardo can't do this without his family. He's nothing without them. His thoughts turn dark and he's sure he would much rather perish here with his twin than go on without him, but as soon as he thinks it, an image of Michelangelo flashes across his mind. If there’s even the slightest chance that his baby brother is unharmed– He can’t leave him. God knows this world is abhorrent to live in, even with family, and without it… Leonardo would hate himself to the grave and beyond if he left Mikey to do it alone. He bends down, lowering his forehead onto his twin’s shoulder.
“So, we wait,” he mumbles as the tears keep coming, “I’ll be here, Donnie. I won’t leave you.”
The softshell squeezes his hand and his cough is pained but when he talks, he sounds amused.
“Not like you’ve got many options there, o great leader.”
Leonardo snorts and the dusty air hurts his nose, but he doesn’t care. He still has Donnie. He hopes with all of his being that Mikey and the others are alright and that they’re on their way.
There’s still time.
They wait.
And wait.
It’s quiet around them and Leonardo can hear each time Donatello’s breathing grows more ragged. He can feel the rise of his chest get more laboured and the grip on his fingers loosen, but he’s still holding on. The light from Donnie’s bracer dims down. They don’t talk.
Leonardo doesn’t know if there’s anything to say.
The minutes drag on and eventually blur into meaninglessness, both of the turtles too heavy-hearted to keep track of the time. It doesn’t matter anyway – all they have is this. Leonardo takes note of the air getting thinner, making a conscious effort to slow his breathing to preserve whatever oxygen they have left.
Donatello coughs again and this time he struggles to draw breath after, his grip on Leonardo’s hand tightening. Leonardo feels ice starting to spread from his stomach up to his chest, and he lifts his head jerkingly, afraid of what he’ll see.
His brother has his eyes closed, he looks pale and in pain, definitely still alive. Leonardo feels a wave of nausea lap at him at the thought of but how long.
“Leo,” Donatello rasps, then, and Leonardo presses their hands closer to his chest.
“Don?”
“It’s cold,” the softshell says quietly and opens his eyes. A tear rolls down his temple and Leonardo feels moisture on his own cheeks in response. He quickly moves to pull off his cape and tucks it around Donnie, trying to cover him as well as he can. When he’s done, he’s startled as his brother’s hand is seeking his own again. He grasps it and feels his lip tremble.
Donatello is looking at him with love and such deep-set sadness that Leonardo’s already broken heart shatters further, into pieces so small they’re practically dust to be swept away by the gentlest of breezes.
“I’m… scared,” Donnie whispers, and Leonardo suppresses a sob.
“I’m here,” he whispers back, carefully slipping his prosthetic arm under Donnie’s head and pulling him close.
“I’m here, and I love you,” he says, barely keeping the tremble out of his voice. Donatello actually sobs into the crook of his neck, his fingers twitching around Leonardo’s, and the slider feels the ice inside him spread, and spread, and spread, and he knows they’re out of time.
They’re all older than Raph, now, outgrown their eldest brother by years. If Leonardo and Michelangelo survive long enough, they’ll outgrow Donnie, too.
Leonardo rearranges their hands to splay his twin’s fingers on his own plastron right above his heart, keeping his hand there to give him whatever comfort he can, desperate to let him know he's not alone as he listens to Donatello’s quivering breath, his struggling heartbeat.
Silently, he weeps, and holds on.