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“JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!”
The lab door had slammed inches from Leo’s face, leaving the blue-clad turtle to stare at the reinforced metal barrier. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. Growing up as four mutant turtle kids, they were always pushing each other’s buttons, seeing just how far they could until something broke. It was stupid and dumb, but they were bored little kids with no dad telling them that someday they would regret it, that some day no apology would be enough.
Donnie was always slamming doors, shutting them out, even as kids. They preferred the company of books and tidy workspaces compared to the messy slobbering of their brothers. Still, Donnie loved to wrestle with them and hear themself talk, always willing to join their brothers in the Atrium and even having an open door policy. Donnie was a walking, talking contradiction, but they were Donnie and no one knew Donnie better than Leo.
At least, that’s what Leo used to think.
His tympana still rung from the force of the bang, screams and weaponised words the only sound getting through anymore. A whimper tried to claw its way out of his tight throat and the slider raised his hand to bang on the door or just touch it, Leo didn’t know, but either method would get Donnie’s attention, draw them outside and they could just talk, make things right again (not good, can’t make something good from something worthless-)-
Leo did neither. He just stood there, feeling his throat burn as he kept all the sounds he wanted to yell and scream contained (don’t give it the satisfaction of hearing you talk- it doesn’t deserve your words), hand shaking as it hovered.
Pest!
Donnie didn’t want him around. Leo had already driven his twin to kicking him out, he couldn’t- not when he would only be allowed in to stop this. Donnie deserved an apology, not this shaking turtle that was one wrong move from shattering. His softshell sibling could fix anything, but Leo didn’t want them to fix this, fix him.
Leo wanted to break.
Why did he push? Why couldn’t he just sit and listen? Why did he have to play with Donnie’s stuff? He knew that was against the lab rules, he knew that. Leo had been going into Donnie’s lab almost every night since it was first made and Donnie moved out of their shared room, hating the silence that came with sleep. Donnie always rustled, always muttered, always snored and drooled. There was never any silence and Leo was never alone.
Leo had been alone before, completely alone and he didn’t like it. He almost preferred the metal punishment raining down on his already broken body, cementing his fate.
Almost.
At least when he was alone, he could look at them. He could cry.
After the darkness, the emptiness, the eternal loneliness that wasn’t so eternal, not with siblings that would break all the laws of the universe for those they thought worth it, Leo could push. Boundaries could be tested, some pushing further than before, others being shut down immediately. Leo could see all the lines in the sand, but he couldn’t stop himself from stepping over them, from forcing them to just look at him.
A joke about fish with no eyes and Raph was staring at his neck.
A joke about pottery cracking and Mikey was staring at his plastron.
A joke about ten-tickles and Donnie was staring at his head.
But Leo kept pushing and they refused to push back and Leo couldn’t stop.
And eventually, something was bound to give, no matter how they’ve grown, how they’ve changed, how they’ve lived. At the end of the day, the four mutant turtles living in the sewers of New York City were just kids and kids could be mean.
Donnie was right to kick Leo out. They were right, so stop hovering, Leo. Go. Leave them alone, like they want.
The slider took a hundred and eighty degree turn, stalking away from the scene of the crime, his crime. His issues were his own and Leo was going to deal with them like any mature adult would.
———
Maybe hiding on a rooftop in the middle of New York City to ride out the panic attack was not Leo’s best idea, but the turtle blamed the black encroaching on his vision. It was kind of hard to be rational when your vision was blurring and you couldn’t breathe.
In.
But Leo could breathe, if he would just try. Two. He had done it before, consistently, every day of his life, hundreds of times per day. Three. Leo could breathe, he wasn’t missing a lung-
Blood flew from his mouth. That wasn’t good, right? Blood was supposed to be inside his body.
-Leo was fine. Three- He wasn’t good, no one could be good when they still had to limp around their own house, but Leo could move on his own, something stolen from him for months, but in those months, Leo could always count on the fact he could breathe whenever he was awake and aware. Four.
Hold.
There was no stickiness in the back of his throat that Leo could still recall. Two. Nothing holding him down other than the thin blanket and his own exhaustion. Three.
Out.
There was one thing Leo could rely on to remain consistent, despite all the pain that faded with time, despite the stiffness in his knee that had never existed before or slowed him down without gravity, despite the way his throat could not produce words when his family was too loud or too cold. Two. He could always breathe, an action that had been with him since childhood, one that was his to control. Three. Leo may have struggled with breathing on occasion, when his throat was tight or sticky or forcefully restricted, but he was always able to count on it. Four.
In.
He was always able to count it. One. Leo was intimately aware with how his body functioned theoretically, since he couldn’t open up his family and find out, and he knew how breathing and respiration worked. Two. He could feel the air flow into his nose, down his trachea, into his bronchi, separating further into his bronchioles until it was absorbed by the blood flowing around his alveoli. Three. It was an ever present motion that was second nature to everyone, yet, on occasion, Leo would be forced to regulate the process manually. Four.
Hold.
And he was good at it, good at managing how his chest got tighter, his lungs became too enlarged, his trachea too stiff. One. All Leo had to do was pull the air in and down and then push it out. Two. It was a simple, easy process. Three.
Out.
Leo could handle something as simple as breathing, heh. One. He could cope on his own, without bringing anyone in and making them worry. Two. Leo did that once and he saw the cracks that spread up Mikey’s arms, neck and even most of his entire upper body, the same cracks mirrored on his older brother’s and twin’s arms. Three. Worrying only led to sacrifice and unnecessary pain and Leo would never do that to his family. Four.
Leo sighed as his entire body went limp against the slightly walled edge of the roof he was leaning against. He would never do that to his family, again. What he needed to do was figure out how to deal with this excess energy now that he wasn’t trying to pick fights with Raph to get things to go back to normal, now that there wasn’t a big bad metal monstrosity threatening everything and everyone Leo loved, now that Leo could breathe and think without an alarm going off. Ignoring the problem was getting him nowhere, only leading to his current situation, cast out by his sibling for being too much.
Leo had always been too much of everything, too annoying, too energetic, too loud-
You ruined everything!
-too in the way, with there only being one time where him being too much worked in the favour of the world, not Leo, like it should always be. It wasn’t about him, no matter how much he would make it about him, a lesson he had been forced to learn the hard way. Leo would never forget that, could never forget that. The teenage mutant turtle finally understood Atlas’ burden. Donnie would be proud that he had listened to their lecture on Greek Mythology at 3am, when it was just the two of them awake. At least Leo wasn’t alone in his burden like Atlas, with his family there, always ready to catch him and make up for his failings.
Leo would always need his family, but did they really need him when they could do the work without him?
He refused to think like that. The red eared slider placed his hand onto the lip of the roof and pushed himself onto unsteady feet. He glanced over the edge of the roof at the people meandering below and watched them for a few moments, his world consisting of only the sounds of his own breathing that had quietened enough for the sounds of car horns to leak through. There was an entire world out there, one scarred and broken that had quickly rebuilt and returned to its spite and irritation at poor traffic.
Some things would never change, no matter how much someone would wish they would.
Had Leo really changed? It wasn’t about him and he tried to remember that, he did, yet all Leo could do was watch as another two cars swerved to avoid a head on collision and just see everything that he could have done, but he never would do, things he never would have done before. He hadn’t changed, not really, not deep down where he was still Leo.
Leo was still that selfish, stubborn kid that cared more about himself than the people around him.
He didn’t want to be that person anymore. Leo had taken his punishment and he hadn’t resisted. He had been fully aware of what he was about to do and he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, even now. The slider hated it, hated that place, hated him, but he couldn’t make himself regret it. It was Leo or the world.
Leo or his family.
That choice had always been so easy, but it wasn’t, not in that moment, not when there were so many words he should’ve said, so much he had said that never should’ve existed, so much stuff he did that was so Leo that he wished he could take back, but he didn’t. Being Leo got everyone into that situation and Leo had to get them out, but he wasn’t alone this time.
He would never be alone again once it was all over.
Except there was never an over. There was pain and cold and then there was warmth and relief that he hadn’t expected.
He was here and he was okay.
The turtle pushed away from the side of the roof, bending over to pick his sword up and ignoring that whispering voice that told him he had regretted it, in those moments of weakness when all he could focus on was the cracks and the blood- that was why he forced himself to look at that picture and remind himself of the why. His family always chased away any doubts in both himself and his decision, just another decision they hadn’t supported, but Leo went through with anyway. So what if they didn’t trust him? Leo had never needed their trust to follow through with his plans and watch them work.
Leo would always be Leo and that meant he didn’t listen until he was out of options. That plan was teamwork, teamwork his family had been missing for years, that had taken them so long to perfect, especially with new powers and the tensions those past few months after the Shredder destroyed their childhood home and they were forced to move. Their home wasn’t the only thing lost, nor was it the only part of their family gone.
Leo wouldn’t think about that.
He stood up to his full height, blade in hand as he curved his back the best he could with a shell in the way, listening to it crack as he stretched his arms over his head. The slider moved his head side to side and cracked his neck. Leo sighed, knowing he shouldn’t linger, that Raph and Mikey would be home soon and they would pester Donnie into making use of their trackers the moment they realised Leo wasn’t in the Lair or with April.
He shouldn’t linger, but Leo’s eyes turned upwards at the eruption of orange across the sky.
The turtle leaned against the side of the roof access building, staring up as the colour of comfort and determination spread, chasing after the blue of the sky, almost like they were playing a game. He resolutely ignored the creeping pink contaminating it. Orange was safe, happy and smiling, returning from the trip to the Hidden City to stock up on supplies that the recovering Surface City was still rationing. He was and Leo could just go home and hug him and remind himself he was here, they were here, they actually came-
A scream and crash came from an alleyway what sounded like two buildings over.
Leo sighed and slashed his sword down, watching reality split, ignoring the sudden dryness of his throat as the cool mystic power spread over his skin, “A hero’s work is never done.”
Thank Pizza Supreme in the Sky that his siblings weren’t here with pizza. Leo would never admit it to Raph’s face, but hero was a good word, their word.
He stepped out in between the fallen human and the mutilated body of what was once a member of the Foot Clan, spinning to swipe with his sword and remove a sharpened tentacle targeting the human behind him. The Krang extension hissed, but didn’t back off, only rearing up onto hind legs- legs that should’ve been its- their only legs. Leo spared a momentary glance behind him at the currently mostly unharmed human. No injuries putting a time limit on this encounter, but they were awake, knocking grabbing them and running away off the list of options, not when they would potentially struggle and make Leo drop them.
Leo couldn’t afford to make a mistake, here or ever again.
Keep them alive. Don’t let the Krang win, don’t let them kill anymore. Injuries healed. Death did not. Too much blood was soaked into Leo’s hands, permanently staining them with a red he could never be rid of, a reminder of what he had cost so many people, of how many people lost their Leos, their Raphs, their Donnies, their Mikeys, their Dads, their Aprils, because he just couldn’t back down.
Ironic.
This time Leo refused to back down, swinging his swords into a familiar grip to allow him his full range of motion. His opponent roared and Leo blinked away the gaping maw of infinity behind a metallic reaper coming to claim Leo’s penance.
The Krang tried to strike first, but Leo was fast, not as fast as he once was, a speed now unachievable to him, but he was fast, faster than anything from this planet.
But the Krang aren’t of this planet.
Their abilities were limited by their hosts, slowing the parasite enough for Leo to keep up with each blow. Sharpened tentacle against dulling blade, a reflection of their current combat abilities. Leo could fight, he had been fighting his entire life, he was literally made to fight, be the perfect soldier, but so were the Krang. This Krang may not be one of the Krang, but it was still a Krang.
Leo bent backwards, watching as the tentacle swung where his face was, missing by half an inch. He kicked out, sending the Krang back a few steps, a sign that the host was not a good fit.
Leo ignored how his carapace twinged as a reminder that the glue would not hold in a fight.
The two soldiers stared each other down, quiet hisses escaping both of them. Leo wasn’t backing down and neither was his opponent, an opponent that was faster, stronger, sturdier and not still recovering from lasting injuries, but…
Leo didn’t spare a glance backwards, but he twitched to the left, allowing him to see the human out of his peripheral. They were finally standing up on their own, staring at the two hissing warriors in front of them, obviously terrified, but they were moving, edging away.
Good.
Leo shifted again, watching the parasite follow his movements, edging around so more of its back was to the human. Throbbing flesh that didn’t belong on those bones rippled, the poor imitation of a head tilting as its eyes moved down Leo’s arm. The slider fought down the instinctual full body shudder into a shiver, swallowing down the urge to obviously gag as it expanded and stretched, sharpening into an actual blade.
Leo’s blade.
The slider’s grip tightened around the handles of his weapons, too wide grin twisting into a snarl. He made these blades with the mystic power of his family and this parasite dared to make those imitations from its infectious flesh?
Rude.
Leo ran his tongue over the tops of his teeth, an anxious habit he regretted as his opponent swung, twisting its body to slash down. The turtle swung up, catching the blade, teeth gritting as his tongue retreated from his teeth. One of the parasite’s weapons slid off Leo’s swords, raining down sparks upon him. Leo fought the urge to flinch, instead using it to power his turn as he dropped a sword to his foot. The turtle grunted as he stood, cracked shell exposed to the Krang as his eyes darted around. He was in a bad position, one foot raised, holding a sword to hold off a blade, his other arm over his head.
Leo took a deep breath in and in a split second, he brought his weapons to his side as he ducked, sending the Krang flying over his shell. The turtle grunted at the scrape of scutes by sharpened tentacle, but stood to his full height as the parasite shook its head, slowly rising to its hind legs, once more. Leo hissed, a threat and a challenge as he spun the swords in his hands to readjust the grip, staring down the opponent.
In.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Leo smirked and the Krang’s long, wormlike tongue flew out of its mouth, whipping through the air, a hiss following closely behind.
Crash.
The crash just outside of their range of vision pulled both the turtle and the Krang out of their battle lust filled haze, breaking through the tunnel vision as both turned to face the human that had tried to escape, only to catch their leg on a box and stumble into a dumpster, knocking them to the ground again.
The world blurred as the two inhuman creatures moved, crossing the short distance before the human could comprehend their position.
Then, the world froze and everything became too fast, too much as both humane creatures fell. The human screeched something and the patter of feet and more thuds against alleyway walls told Leo they were running.
Good. That was good.
His head turned to his right where the Krang slave was slumped, run through with the blade powered by Leo’s life force and his ancestors. He watched the blue glow entwined with the blade flicker and wondered were they displeased? Leo shouldn’t have killed them, not when they were just another victim, but wasn’t that a kindness? Their biology and magic had protected Raph from his different mutation, leaving his body as his and not warped beyond recognition like the Foot Clan, but these were still people. People Casey loved and Leo wanted to help, he did, but never at the cost of anyone else.
Heroes didn’t trade lives. Guess Leo wasn’t the hero he was supposed to be. That was okay. His siblings were the heroes the world needed. They were so good.
Not like Leo who always managed to mess everything up.
Except this. The human was safe and that was what mattered. It had to, otherwise what was all this for?
Leo released his sword and positioned his upper arms under his body, pushing himself up, only to release a scream.
There was something inside of him.
Leo panted as he lifted his head to stare at the steadily bleeding wound through his plastron that adrenaline had numbed.
Not good. Not good. Not good.
Get it out get it out getitout-
The slider bit his bottom lip, ignoring the metallic taste in his mouth as shaky fingers grabbed the spear-like vine. He hated this. He hated this. He hated this. In the back of his mind, behind the barrier of mental static and screaming, Leo was yelling at himself to stop, to just leave it-
But Leo was always so good at not listening to orders he didn’t like and Leo didn’t want that inside him, where it could spread and infect-
Leo didn’t know if he screamed as the tentacle was yanked free of his plastron. Tiny pieces of the slider’s plastron snapped off, falling into the new chest cavity and floating in the tiny pool building there. The turtle sat there, watching it swirl, feeling his carapace get coated in something sticky that wasn’t just the typical NYC alleyway floor, panting, counting breaths once again.
He didn’t have time for that, but he didn’t have the energy to do anything else.
In. Two. Three. Four. Hold. Two. Three. Out. Two. Three. Four.
The panting slowed to wheezing breaths and Leo’s head stopped ringing, giving him the mental capacity to think. He couldn’t do this alone, he could barely move and they had promised.
“If you ever need bailing out of whatever you’ve gotten yourself into, just call,” Donnie had murmured, “I will always answer.”
Leo’s phone was in his pouch, just reach down and grab it and he’d be one call away from getting out of this sticky situation, heh. Every reach made his body twinge- only a twinge, just a twinge, nothing else, he’d dealt with worse- but he needed-
There.
Leo’s hand wrapped around fabric and he could’ve laughed out loud if he didn’t feel so close to crying. His hand inched into the pouch, pulling the device out of its secured holder within the pouch, easy to slip it out of, but difficult for the phone to dislodge itself when a certain teenage mutant turtle was moving around.
Tap the screen twice and hold the power button for one. Two. Three.
The phone began to ring and Leo tried to swallow down the lump in his throat, force the sides of his mouth to stretch into a smile. It didn’t last as Leo made the mistake of glancing down at the red bubbling over the edges of the hole in his plastron, leaking down the sides to join the growing puddle beneath him.
“Th-that’s a lot of blood,” Leo chuckled, head dropping back to stare at the bright void, the contradiction that was New York City’s night skies, “heh. Gu-guess I finally got that personal swimming pool I always wanted.”
The slider let loose a ragged cough that further scratched up his aching insides. He refused to acknowledge the liquid dribbling down the side of his cheek. If it was blood, it would dribble down his chin- after all that’s how it worked in movies. Leon ignored the internal timer his medically trained brain created, counting down until this whole situation was irreversible, when hope finally ran out for him.
His own personal death clock. Leo was getting all his own stuff today. Donnie would be so jealous, if they would. Just. Pick. Up-
Leo’s entire body shuddered and he felt the device slip from his hand, banging against the concrete. The sound echoed, another nail in the coffin Leo had never wanted to lie in, but was far too aware of its existence, watching as he was lowered into the rotting wood. It had been waiting for him for a long time.
Leo was never meant to have survived this long.
More liquid leaked down the sides of Leo’s face, this time streaming from his eyes. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. He was cold and he was alone and he was scared. Leo didn’t want to admit that, but he didn’t want to die.
Please.
Donnie, pick up!
That damned pre-recorded message Leo was ever so familiar with played, one that Leo remembered helping Donnie record when they turned ten. It was Leo’s birthday gift for his sibling. Leo wasn’t a technological genius, but he wanted to give Donnie something special, something just for them, a twin-cording.
“This is Donatello’s phone, a place to record all your needs and desires that only the great and almighty Donatello can fulfil!”
Once again, all Leo could hear was his own voice. The same infernal voice that got him into this mess, made his twin unwilling to pick up. Leo hated that voice. He wanted to crush the phone.
Beep.
Leo internally cursed, using a few choice words Raph would never approve of, as he, of course, went to voicemail. Donnie must have been really mad. Leo just had to leave a message and then Donnie would listen and everything would be okay. Leo grunted as he tried to stretch his arm towards the device, swallowing back a whimper as he felt his shell shift, scutes rubbing together in a way they should never, but Leo swallowed it all down. He could do this. Just grab it, hang up, call Raph or April or someone, just please-
“‘onnie?” Leo hated it, hated that stupid voice he could hardly recognise anymore, the way it shook, the way it barely existed- if it was going to force itself into the world, it had better be worth it, “‘t’s ‘eo. Dumb dumb ‘eo. ‘onnie. Hur’ssss.”
Words were heavy and difficult, both physically and mentally. Only one thing kept repeating in Leo’s head and Leo grabbed onto it with all the desperation and spite and hope a teenager’s small body could hold.
“‘onnie?” Leo repeated again, “‘onnie? ‘onnie?”
Predictably, there was no answer.
Leo wanted his family, his twin, but he didn’t know if they wanted him.
“Do you ‘member?” Leo wasn’t quite sure of the details of the memory, feeling them slip through his fingers like the red leaking down his plastron, “You ‘member, ‘onnie. You always ‘member.”
There was still no answer, no story being told to fill the gaps of his fractured memories, no crazy specific details to add the final touches to the painting of the past. It was just Leo, Leo and his dumb dumb words, his broken mind.
“‘tis ‘kay. Dun need answer. I know.”
Leo’s entire body spasmed as he spluttered, dislodging his hand that had been barricading the escaping liquid from the wound, a hand he didn’t remember lacing there. He resolutely didn’t look, stretching his arm out weakly to try and find the phone out of view as his mind flickered back to the first time they got a phone.
“Papa didn’ know, bu’ you did,” Leo chuckled, chest stuttering as his cheeks became damp, “You were ‘ma’ing. You ‘ade your own, ‘ade us ours. You bes’, ‘onnie. My ‘win. Bes’ ‘win.”
Leo could almost hear Donnie’s tirade about how Leo only had one twin, making Donnie Leo’s favourite and least favourite twin at the same time. They would always follow it up with a head bump, their twin head bump and a reminder that no one else spent their nights with Donnie in their lab almost every night. Leo would always argue that April tried, but Donnie had a fierce ‘stop-that-dumb-dumb-line-of-thought’ glare, one they would argue was their softshell biology finally shining through.
The same glare that was directed at Leo without any of the masked warmth that Donnie glares usually held however long ago it had been since he was kicked out.
…
Pizza Supreme in the Sky, Leo didn’t want to die.
But he couldn’t get himself to yell out, to scream and sob out apologies and cries for help. There was a lump, blocking Leo’s airway that he wasn’t sure was purely a mental block. Leo- Leo needed to- he needed to just talk- say something, he was good at that. Stop being a big baby, Leo. He was a teenage mutant ninja turtle, he had defeated Baron Draxum, the Shredder, even the Krang. Leo could handle a little bit of blood. It wasn’t the first time Leo had been hurt, he would be fine.
Leonardo always bounced back!
The slider ignored how he had never been hurt like this, how his siblings were always nearby to prevent something like this and the one time they weren’t- the one time Leo expected them to never be by his side again- they came for him. They would always come for Leo, no matter what, breaking every rule to ever exist, because that’s what you did for family. Leo could trust that, trust them, like they trust him.
Anatawa Hitorijanai.
Leo choked and coughed up a sob, the first of many to escape. His head banged against the street as he stared to his right where his precious phone was, where it was still recording a message. He whined as more sobs were ripped apart by coughs, finally unable to ignore the red splattered across the pavement. The colour of his older brother, of safety and comfort, worn by his future student, a reminder of loss and hope, the same colour that framed his own face, something that he wore with pride, that was fundamentally a part of him, even before his mutation.
But now, that colour scared Leo.
“I dun wanna die,” Leo almost flinched at the wobble of the voice echoing through his ears, feeling his tongue move through molasses, “‘onnie. ‘ease.”
A shaking sob escaped him, more paint splattering the floor by his face, framing his head with a halo of blood. The colour that was so fundamentally a part of Leo and his family was trailing away, escaping the confines of his body. Maybe it would be okay? Red was the colour of the Hamato, it was the colour of his family on this side and the other side. Everything would all be okay, it had to be.
“‘ease!” Leo screamed, his throat being set alight once more, a sledgehammer being driven through his brain, but Leo couldn’t stop, “‘ease! ‘ease, ‘onnie, ‘ease!”
The cold from the frozen New York alleyway floor was slowly seeping into Leo’s bones, draining all his remaining energy, but he had to stay awake. He couldn’t feel his hands or his feet anymore, but he needed to stay awake, count his heartbeats, something-
Raph was going to kill him. Donnie was going to kill him. Pizza Supreme in the Sky, Mikey was going to kill him.
“I dun wanna die.”
I’m sorry.
Two drips of water leaked out of dull, empty eyes, joining the red pool bathing the turtle within its inescapable grasp.
“Your message has been sent. Thank you for using GeniusBuilt™ for your transmission.”
———
“I dun wanna die.”
“Press one-“
Tap.
“I dun wanna die.”
“Pre-“
Tap.
“I dun wanna die.”
“P-“
Tap.
“I dun wanna die.”
Tap.
“I dun wanna die.”
That was Donnie’s brother, crying, begging, because he was dying. That was Donnie’s brother, the one that called them for help, the one they had just yelled at mere hours beforehand, the one that they had seen pop up on their phone under the name Dumb Dumb Twin 🌈🦄 ✨ and ignored.
Donnie should be feeling something, anything, but it was like they were nothing but that emotionless windup doll that would far too often resemble their father’s bad days during their childhood.
It was like they had forgotten how to feel all over again, like there was no input for them to process and output an appropriate response. When the Shredder had torn through their tech, all of their tech, even the piece on their shell, Donnie had been terrified, vulnerable, weak- and they had responded appropriately, their response continuing for several weeks as the memories were fresh, eliciting that response on repeat. Their brother, their twin, would always compare them to white blood cells and how they always remember past infections so they could fight them easier the next time they showed up. He was smart like that, using logic and facts to quell the illogical emotion threatening to overwhelm Donatello’s operating system.
When the Shredder became the source of too much input once again and Donnie wasn’t completely sure how to process what was going on emotionally, they simply went through the motions. Motions they saw in their siblings that they would mimic, motions familiar from months ago when Donnie was the present to be ripped open not Gram-
Motions where they could fight, something that had been constant since their early childhood, one familiarity they would never lose.
Even when the Krang made their move and Donnie lost their older brother, their source of stability and protection, and watched as their twin tore himself apart. Even when Donnie felt their own being merge and become so much more than a simple Earthling, becoming part of a greater whole, a cog in a machine, no longer having to watch themself lose, watch their family fail and fall away from their grasp- Even when the sky was bathed in oranges and reds and purples and greens, when it was lacking such a vital colour that it only looked incomplete as the debris of Donnie’s entire world rained to the Earth around them.
Donnie could feel. They did feel. Donnie hated feelings, but feelings were a part of them and Donnie would never regret that when it would let them hold their siblings close and know they would do anything for them, to protect them from any threat that came their way.
But right here, right now, Donnie had forgotten what feelings were. An old friend long since buried, yet there had never been a burial. There was no liquid fire burning their cheeks, no shaky hands reaching out for someone out of reach, no screams of any form.
The world was silent with its grief and Donnie wished they could relate.
Tap.
“I dun wanna die.”
Donnie should scream right? Cry, yell, beg, bargain, something. There was supposed to be a pained emptiness in their chest that they just couldn’t fill, that they would relentlessly try to scratch it and drag it out of themself, but there was nothing. They could barely feel the pressure of the keys of the keyboard under their fingers, hardly smell the overwhelming grease that was the staple of their lab that should drown out the metallic tinge tangible in the air, barely hear the click clack that was supposed to shatter the frozen atmosphere.
What were those stages of grief Miche-Mikey was always going on about? Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance, right? Donnie knew they applied to most people, that they were common and expected as people came to terms with what had happened, but Donnie wasn’t most people. There was no denial as they stared at the truth scattered across every screen they owned. All of the burning rage had drained out of Donnie’s body, trying to warm up the far too cold brother that always had been the most sensitive to the cold, always wrapped up and complaining about the chill lingering in the sewer.
They pulled the blanket next to them further over their brother, resisting the second nature urge to use those metal limbs that he hated.
Donnie didn’t beg or hope, that wasn’t them. They worked with facts and truths. Begging, deals, hope were all their brother’s thing, the one that wouldn’t stop talking until the problem was over and dealt with and then some. He wouldn’t stop talking and it didn’t always end well, but it had gotten them out of so many sticky situations (sometimes literally, heh) and given them the motivation to keep going with both passion projects and pursuing their duty, a duty that was quickly losing its appeal, no matter how much Raph would try to convince them otherwise.
So depression? Was that what this lack of anything was? Donnie didn’t know and they didn’t care.
Their brother was dead and Donnie knew that. It was a fact.
Did that mean Donnie had skipped grief all together straight to acceptance? That meant they were okay, that they weren’t hurting over this anymore. That seemed about right. Donnie didn’t need to do emotion right now, not when there was work to be done.
There was work to be done. Donnie just had to find it.
Six trackers blinked away on screen, two separate from the rest, a tiny crack that had never felt like an endless chasm before.
Donnie leaned back, shell bonking against their exhausted twin brother’s patterned, tougher shell, listening to the cries slowly cease, “Are you still mad?”
Donnie turned to the coding they had been rifling through for over a year at this point. They had lost more than just their tech when the Shredder raided the Lair. Donnie could rebuild that tech, improve it so it couldn’t be shredded (heh) like that again, but they needed to preserve what was inside him. An AI that learned and grew, Donnie’s little one of their own, their golden child that was more than happy to learn about having other accidental siblings.
The only one lost.
“No. Couldn’ stay mad at Dee,” Leo had been the last of them to speak with words, never having any need of them, but once he started, he would never stop, “No… No stay mad?”
No. That wasn’t quite right. SHELLDON was the only AI lost, protecting their family and Donnie had never been prouder, but…
His voice shook and Donnie felt their breath catch in their throat. They turned and wrapped their arms around their brother, squeezing him tightly in a hug, “Never. Twins always have each other’s shells, right?”
But the cost was too high.
Teary laughter came from Donnie’s arms as tiny hands clenched around Donnie’s wrists, securing them both in place. Donnie didn’t care how Leo’s shell was pushing against their plastron, because he was crying and he needed this.
They didn’t trade lives. That was not how family worked.
“If you ever need bailing out of whatever you’ve gotten yourself into, just call,” Donnie murmured, swearing upon their own soul, “I will always answer.”
But Donnie wasn’t good at family, were they? They couldn’t give big bear hugs like Raph that made everyone feel grounded and invincible. They couldn’t get everyone to open up with a few well placed words like Mikey. They couldn’t run into a fight without any hesitation and just whack someone with a bat like April. They couldn’t come up with ridiculously complex plans hidden behind a well placed smirk and a few choice puns like Leo.
“Always?” So quiet and unlike the now talkative turtle, so scared, so trusting.
Donnie was the tech person. They made cool machines that kept them all alive and effective, but they were obsolete now. Mystic powers could do what took Donnie weeks and months of straight work in literal seconds. It didn’t matter if it was their own mystic powers or a stranger’s. The pursuit of science that Donnie had followed for almost their entire life had proven to be completely pointless when compared to the overwhelming glow of the mystic arts that simply eradicated the shadow science thrived in. Donnie didn’t do emotion, especially not the excessive emotion necessary to master mystic powers, so unlike the logic required to master their science.
“That’s what older twins are for!” Donnie had declared, squeezing Leo like Raph always did to reassure them of the truth, just like the great and amazing older sibling Donnie clearly was.
Why did Donnie have to be so Donnie? Why couldn’t they just- just-!
“You’re not older!” Leo had protested, because he just always had to fight everyone on everything, because he was Leo and he was opinionated and strong- Donnie loved that about their incredible brother, the same brother that pushed his way out of Donnie’s arms to point at his own chest with his thumb like he was making an announcement, “I’m taller now! That makes me older!”
“That’s not how age works!” Donnie pouted where they still sat, crossing their arms.
“Besides, I’m Leonardo Splinterson! I’ll never need to call! I’m awesome and awesome people don’t need bailing out!”
The huge computer screen shattered, static dancing across the screen, spreading out from the cracks formed by the thrown phone that continued to play that damned voicemail on repeat.
“Die. Die. Die. Die. Die.”
An unwitnessed screech reverberated throughout the soundproofed lab.