Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“No.”

“We can’t wait any longer,” Leo insisted.
 
“Absolutely not.”

The slider wasn’t backing down. “We have to act before it’s too late.” 
 
“He’s not ready,” Raph countered, crossing his arms. 
 
They’d been arguing for ages.
 
“We will not repeat the same mistakes we made with Donnie!” 

Raph winced. Leo was being unfair, but he couldn’t deny the truth. It was his fault. He had failed them. 
 
“So young. So innocent,” his little brother rubbed it in. “And now? Gone!”
 
“Quit telling everyone I’m dead,” Donnie complained half-heartedly without looking up. His eyes were glued to the pages of 'Chain Reactions - A Hopeful History of Uranium'.

“Sometimes I can still hear his voice.” 

Leo blew a raspberry at his twin, but Donnie wasn’t paying attention and did not intend to do so any time soon.

“Dee?” The snapper turned for help. 

“Yeah, yeah. What Nardo said,” the softshell agreed, his thoughts clearly occupied by nuclear nightmares and nuclear dreams. 

Leo grinned triumphantly. “I concur. What Nardo said,” he added, just to be a jerk.

“Urgh!”

 “I get it, boss man. Change is scary,” he intervened before a Raph-chasm could fully form. “But it’s in the best interest of our family.” Empathetically, Leo patted him on the back.
 
“Are you sure?”
 
“Of course. Don’t worry. I got this. He has to learn eventually.”

Raph had a bad feeling. It was a slippery slope. However, Leo’s mind was set. When the chips were down, the slider’s schemes came through. And if Leo proved to be right - it was a big IF - the benefits would be unfathomable. 

What would Lou Jitsu do? 

Raph dragged a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. “Fine,” the turtle with the red bandana said glumly.

Leo’s face broke into a slow smirk with too much teeth, and Raph felt tricked. 

“Okay, Mike. Ready or not, here I come! It’s time for you to learn the most important skill in life!” 

Oh, this would be so much fun. Heheh. Leo rubbed his hands together, a devilish glint in his eyes. 

Mikey sat on the floor, no worries on his mind. Happily, he tried to shove his entire fist into his mouth. Drool was dripping down. There was nothing going on in this cute temptingly empty head of his.  

“And guess what, your favorite bro will teach you.” 

With a particular pep in his step that indicated he was about to do something infuriatingly stupid, Leo drew near their sweet lil baby. 

Raph followed, teddy bear in hand. It calmed him to have something to protect. 

“It’s called a 'please face',” Leo explained. “All you have to do is pout. Super easy, right? I’ll show you. Cause I am awesome!”

The corners of Leo’s mouth pulled down and all of a sudden he seemed terribly upset.  

“Can you do that too, Mikey?” Leo asked. Just like that the misery and heartbreak were gone.

Mikey laughed and applauded his big brother’s theatrics. He took a deep breath and concentrated real hard as he tried to copy him.  

“Not bad,” Leo complimented. “And then the eyes, but make them big too. Bigger!”

Mikey did as he was told. He was giving it his all.

“Great. Now look up. Tilt your head. Almost.” 

Leo stood and mused. Their lives would never be the same, however, they could do better. 

“I am going to need to see tears.”

“Leo!” Raph protested, but Mikey was already on it.

“That’s good. Now hold that.” Leo snatched Dr. Huggenstein from Raph’s arms and pushed him into Mikey’s. 
 
“Hey!” The snapper exclaimed, but his voice instantly softened at the picture presented in front of him. It pierced his heart straight through. “Awww, Mikey~,” he gushed.  

“Perfection,” Leo breathed, as he marveled at his masterpiece.

Mikey sniffed, and his big brother couldn’t have been prouder. This was everything he’d hoped for and more.

“You're a true natural!” Finally, something to work with! The starving turtle had been given water. 

Mikey kept his glassy eyes on Leo, and Leo gave his baby brother the biggest hug. He picked him up and twirled him around in a hurricane of sunshine and sparkles. Mikey giggled and so did Leo, thrilled and a little dizzy by all the possibilities. 

“You did it! Here, have a cookie,” Leo cooed.

Michelangelo smiled and the world was at peace. 

Raph’s jaw dropped. Even Donnie put his book aside to do a double take. A beat of silence pulsed between them.

“Dark magic,” their leader whispered in awe. Raph was sure his brother didn’t even notice the gravity of what he’d just done - of what had just happened. Leonardo never shared his cookies. Not with anyone. Period.  

“Did you just…,” Raph couldn’t finish the question. The very thought was too absurd.

Leo’s eyes widened in shock as he realized, that yes, he did indeed. 

“NO!” He refused to admit. “It’s not like that. I- It’s, it’s like training a puppy!” Leo fumbled. “You have to give treats! Everybody knows that! Dee, what’s it called?” He whined.

“Operant conditioning.”  

Leo’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “Right. I am a conditioner.” 

Donnie rolled his eyes. “That’s a hair product.” 

“You think I could get hair?” 

Leo deflected and Raph stopped listening. He was watching Mikey, who munched on his well-earned cookie. Oh boy, they were in big trouble. The slider could deny it all he wanted, but Raph saw, saw the grin on Mikey’s mischievous face. They’d created a monster.

Chapter Text

An ocean of fog obscured the world, not a single sound to be heard under its heavy curtain. 

“Finally,” the worm disturbed the silence and rubbed his hands together. 

Glass cracked in the museum’s black halls. Both Warren and Hypno held their breath. When the alarm failed to go off, they grinned deviously. The magician continued carefully cutting a circle in the case that housed a delicate little box. They had to hurry. 

“Ta-da!” Hypno exclaimed proudly as he showed the mystic artifact to his friend/roomie/magical assistant. A smile spread across his face when Warren’s eyes grew wide and starry.
 
It looked beautiful, the quality superb. Dark silver plating glowed on its own as if it neither wanted nor needed the light. In the center, the casket depicted a scene of despair and misery. The downfall of humanity. A battle between gods and mortals, framed by two pillars, behind each of which lurked a demon, mouth wide open in a quiet chant, honoring the forgotten deities of old. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” Warren cheered gleefully, making grabby hands at his partner in crime. This was almost too easy. One more lock to pick and - 

“Not so fast, Hypno!” bellowed a deep, begrudgingly familiar voice from above. 

The roof came crashing down, along with four annoying turtle brats ready to foil their plans. 

“When will they ever learn to quit with these dark occult exhibits? It’s like every other Tuesday we have to stop these wackos from trying to take over the world,” the purple one quipped, but Warren barely listened. His attention was reserved for the soft click to his left that told him the deed was done.

“Too late,” the former news anchor announced with a wicked laugh. “Tonight’s headline: You shall fall at the hands of your greatest foe, Warren Stone!” 

“Who?” The blue-banded turtle dared, casually leaning on his sword. 

“ME!!!” Warren yelled in a fit. However, he snapped out of his anger when an ornate lid opened. It revealed a red silk interior, decorated with trailing vines and wilted flowers. 

“Exceptional,” Hypno whispered in awe. 

It also came with a vintage-looking spray bottle. The thick glass felt strong and durable in the hippopotamus's grip. He wasted no time squeezing the soft and fluffy tassel attached to it and a cloud of yellowish, brown liquid sprayed right into his mouth. 

“Ewww! Expired mouthwash!” The slider took a step back in disgust while his big brother lifted his weapons in return. 

“Fools, with the power of this mystic enhancer we will become invincible,” Warren roared. 

“Do-Re-Mi-Fa-Sol~~~” Hypno cleared his burning throat. He could already hear the police sirens from the ruckus they’d caused and turned towards the largest of the bunch. It would be a 2-for-1 deal with Little Orange perched on top, he thought before exclaiming as loud and powerful as he could, “MEZMER-ROO!!!” 

The magician smiled satisfied when his sound waves closed in on its surprised victims, just to have it slide right off his face. 

In the nick of time, the small box turtle had flung himself over Big Red’s head, blocking what Hypno assumed were the snapper's ears, successfully nullifying his hypnosis. 

Warren cursed behind him, but Hypno took it in stride. One out of two was better than nothing. 

Chapter Text

“Mikey!” Raph screamed. Terror sunk in his gut when his little brother got hit by the Hippo’s melodic command, lulling him into a deep trance. 

In one swift motion, the orange-banded turtle flipped from his back, putting himself between the villains and his family. Like a pendulum his chains swung back and forth, rattling in the sinister silence. The tension was almost palpable. 

Raph’s blood turned cold. 

“No!” 

He could not - Would not!

Involuntary, the snapper shrank back. It was wrong. All wrong. He knew his baby brother by heart. And this… the emotionless expression didn’t belong on Mikey’s face! 

Hypno merely smirked. 

“Attack, my loyal minion!” Warren ordered his new toy, and Raph wanted to break something.

The worm man pointed in his sibling’s general direction and the snapper paled at the realization of what he had to do to protect them. He braced himself, yet his hands wouldn’t stop trembling. His breath quickened and his whole being started to shake uncontrollably. Raph felt like throwing up. He was going to hurt him. 

Everything went too fast when Mikey moved. 

Raph froze. He couldn’t. He was such a goddamn coward. 

Relief and shame mixed inside Raphael’s chest as Donnie pushed past him when he himself couldn’t bring his body to act. He never meant for him to take on this burden, forcing his younger brother to step up due to his own weakness, and yet…

Donatello seemed to have no qualms whatsoever with the current task. He was perfectly fine handling his baby brother. Almost too well, in fact.

The softshell raised his Tech Bo, going for Mikey’s weapon first. He smacked it right out of the box turtle’s hands. With a loud clatter, the Kusari-Fondo fell to the ground, but the other didn’t even bother to pick it up. In his single-minded attempt to carry out his master’s command he only knew one direction. Forward. 

Donatello scoffed verbally as he lifted his Bo once more. He placed it in the center of Mikey’s plastron, efficiently putting some distance between them and stopping the tiny turtle zombie. With his swirling eyes and little rivers of drool trickling down his mouth, he looked as threatening as a kitten. Either way, Mikey was as sharp as a marble. 

“I literally see no difference between before and after he got hypnotized.”

“Awww!” Leo cooed. “Don’t be mean, Dee! Isn’t he the cutest thing ever?”

“Graahhh!”

“Who’s a good zombie?” Leonardo couldn’t help but laugh at the scene - Mikey was the picture of indignant anger, struggling to get closer. 

In the background, the faint noise of the biggest brother’s face-palming could be heard. 

“Guys, can we please take this seriously?” He begged but got ignored by both of his siblings. This was way too fun!

“Oh, me-me-me, lemme try!” Excitedly, the slider bounced up and down. He held his arm out and squashed his palm against Mikey’s forehead, before switching positions with Donnie.

“Adorable!” Leo squealed when Mikey’s hands came up and tried to grab him, but ultimately were too short.

“You will not get away with this, Hypno!” Raph declared, desperately trying to get his team back on track. 

“Ouch, he bit me. Bad Mikey! Bad!” 

Raph had no sympathy whatsoever. He was so done with his brother's antics. 

“Anyone remembers when he got his last rabies shot?”

So done.

“Playtime is over,” the Hippo announced as blue and red lights broke the twilight. The police had arrived. 

“Retreat!” He yelled and grabbed his worm. Taking a deep breath, he threw a smoke bomb on the ground and was instantly enveloped in a thick cloud of purple that obscured them from view. 

The turtles coughed and gasped, eyes stinging with tears before Donnie typed a few commands into his wrist computer and three giant fans appeared from his battle shell. 

“Sooooo… how would you rate this mission?” he asked as soon as the air was clear.

Raph groaned.

“Well,” Leo chimed in, “Did the bad guys get the super gross relict and successfully escape?”

A huge chunk of debris from the roof collapsed next to him. 

“And did we cause a moderate amount of structural damage?” Leonardo added nonchalantly kicking against it. “Technically, yes. But on the bright side, we’re all still in one piece.” 

“4 out of 10?”

“That’s the spirit,” Leo nodded, before Raph wondered, “Wait, where is Mikey?” 

Oh. Oh no. 

“Adjustment: 2 out of 10.”

.
.
.

“Uhm, babe?” Warren asked sweetly.

“Yes?”

“Why is there a turtle in our living room?” The worm man shouted at the top of his lungs.

Hypno turned around. 

“What the heck?!?” 

Right behind him stood Little Orange. He waved his hand in front of the turtle’s face. No reaction. The elder regarded him with quiet fascination. The boy still seemed hypnotized. Weird. Usually, the effects of his magic didn’t last that long. Hypno twirled his mustache. Perhaps the mouthwash did work after all. 

“He must have followed us,” he mused.

“Well, no shit Sherlock,” Warren replied annoyed but dealt with his partner's mishap quickly. 

“Hehehe. How about we teach those pesky loser turtles a lesson? Breaking News: This is the last time they’ll mess with our plans!”

Chapter Text

“… now!” Raph grumbled to no one in particular as he ventured through the lair. “Why aren’t we…?” His words were swallowed by the thunderous stomps of his own feet crunching the concrete beneath.

“Would you please calm down!” Leo snarled at his brother when he nearly bulldozed over him. 

The snapper had spent the better half of the day pacing up and down, muttering incoherently and stressing everyone out. 

“Who knows what they are going to do to him? Little guy is all alone, probably scared out of his mind!” 

“Relax Raph-a-doodle, I’m sure he’s fine.” 

“You don’t know that!” Raph growled. “What if he’s hurt, or afraid? What if they-” Mikey’s tear-filled eyes flashed before him, followed by echoes of pained whimpers slowly morphing into full-out screams as he was coated in bl-

“Raph!” Leo yelled in the most authoritative voice he could manage. Thankfully, the sharp tone was enough to snap him out of it. And softer, “Hey, easy there big daddy. Breath. That’s it. In and out.” 

Gently, Leo pried the hippo costume out of Raph’s hands and placed it on the table next to an orange-painted rock with googly eyes. 

“Don’t worry. Mikey has his tracker. Donnie has his location. And I have a plan.” 

“I am already terrified,” Donnie deadpanned and Leo shot him an angry glare. 

“Not the time, Donald,” he mouthed. 

“Rushing in and lucking out at last second isn’t a plan,” Raphael said. He had no right to sound so small. 

“Always worked so far,” Leo joked halfheartedly. “Listen, I don’t like it either,” he admitted, focusing on his older brother. “But we have to wait. Can’t risk being exposed to all of NYC, right?” He bit his lips. “Just until the sun goes down. Promise.” 

The tight knot in Raph’s stomach still wouldn’t lose, not until Mikey was home. “But-”

“Nuh-uh.” The slider put a hand on his big brother’s shoulder. “Trust me, we got this!”

.
.
.

With a deafening battle cry, the brothers crashed through the thick stone wall of the villainous apartment. 

“Mikey!!!”

There, in the middle of flickering projector lights, stood their missing brother. He wore his Dr. Feelings outfit, while next to him Hypno and Warren sat on their knees, snot on their faces and eyes ugly and red from crying. 

Mikey stepped out of the tilted image on the wall - the last slide of an uncomfortable, familiar PowerPoint presentation. 

As soon as the young turtle recognized his family, a huge grin replaced his businesslike expression, so wide that Raph’s cheeks hurt just from looking at him. 

“Ups, guess time is up,” he chuckled as he was unceremoniously tossed over his big brother’s shoulder. 

“Remember, honest and clear communication is the key, and don’t forget to Hug. It. Out!” Mikey winked playfully as he was carried to the newly made, turtle-shaped exit.

Neither the Hippopotamus nor the worm dared to intervene. All three older turtle brothers had quite a menacing aura around them.

The slider was the last to leave. He took the snack bowl from the dining table as well as a full soda can for good measure, before pointing his fingers to his own eyes, using a V-Sign, and then back at the villains/roomies/it’s complicated. 

The couple swallowed thickly as they watched him moonwalk to the hole in their wall and jump out of the building to follow his brothers. 

Chapter Text

“I wonder what he’s dreaming about?” Michelangelo flopped over his big bro, arms folded around Raph’s shoulders and chin propped up on top of his head, grin present in the bright tone of his voice. 

They both look at their father. His whiskers twitched and a river of drool dripped down his lax mouth. He moved in his sleep, tossing and turning just enough to make the leftover crumbles of we-do-not-want-to-know on his robe crunch.

Mikey giggled when his leg jerked back and forth, searching for purpose in the air. It reminded him of Indiana Bones and his cute lil puppy naps. 
 
“Chop-chop!” Leo clapped his hands. “¡Vamonos, hermanos!”

Mikey’s head lifted.

“Rumor has it that the last one there is a slowpoke,” Donnie stated, not looking up from his phone.

The box turtle pushed himself off his brother. The familiar rush of going exactly where you’re not supposed to go filled him. 

“Oh, yes, baby!”

Raph rolled his eyes and followed.

***

“You did so great today! Let’s go tell Dad!” Draxum smiled. His eyes sparked with pride as they followed the young terrapin. 

Lil Michelangelo almost toppled over with excitement as he rushed towards his father. 

“Dad! Dad! I did my pullover!” 

He gave the rat mutant a big hug. 

“Okay, that’s nice.” Splinter absentmindedly patted his head before he disentangled himself from the child’s clingy limbs. “Go get your shoes so we can go home.”

“Okay,” Mikey chirped carefree. 

Everything inside the Yokai screamed to pounce however he kept his smile intact at least until the boy was gone. 

“Lou.” 

In a fraction of a second all warmth was gone. 

“Coach Draxum,” Splinter replied brusque.

“Are the words ‘I’m proud of you’ just not in your vocabulary or do you just think it’s fun to not give a shit about your kid?”

How dare! The audacity! Yoshi put his hand on his hips. 

“Do you always shame all the parents you talk to or are you just in a bad mood because of that ugly rash under your nose?” The former movie star countered.

“You know, your son is so kind and smart and fun to be around. It’s such a relief he doesn’t take after you.” Draxum smirked triumphant. 

Petty asshole. 

Insolent bastard. 

The father of four straightened. 

“Well, enjoy his company while it lasts because the second - “ Splinter emphasized his words with a perfectly timed snap of his fingers. “…he expresses even a hint of disliking gymnastics I am pulling him from your awful class and telling everyone that this entire building smells like feet.”

“Oh no! What will I ever do losing one rude client that nobody can stand?” 

Draxum feigned disinterest as he inspected his fingernails, but Yoshi knew he hit a nerve. There was something primitively unreasonable inside him that still hadn’t enough.

“I hope this building burns down and you die in the fire.” He dropped all pretense. 

Draxum stared into his opponent's eyes, deep down to the very core of his soul. Two could play this game. 

“I hope you get in a car crash on your way home and you die but your son survives and then I adopt him and he slowly realizes how much happier he is with me and how awful you were and then he’s glad that you’re dead.” 

“Damn.” Splinter’s voice was soft but sad. 

The goat-man inhaled through his nose. “That was too far,” he admitted and ran his hand through his hair.

“It was.” 

“I am sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” To his surprise Splinter meant it. 

“Tell your son you’re proud of him.” He massaged the back of his neck.
 
Lou didn’t hesitate. “I will.”

“See you next week.” Coach Draxum forced himself not to look. He was not getting paid enough for this shit.

***

Splinter scratched the sleep grit from his eyes. The fat woman on TV was still yelling at the 10-year-olds. He stared at the patterns of light and shadow, before taking the remote to shut it off. 

The rat sighed into the silence of the lair. 

He glanced to his right. Orange’s family portrait was still on the table. Right there where he left it. Bright colors and lovable lines made him yearn for simpler times.

He looked at the yokai in the picture and the yokai in the picture looked back at him.

Chapter Text

“Rock-Paper-Scissors!”

“Yes!” Donnie cheered. “I am gonna pick my dearest twin.”

“Coward,” the snapper muttered under his breath. Of course he did. Raph would do the same.

“Nuh-uh, winner’s choice,” Donnie replied smugly.

“I called dibs on him first.”

“Dibs are only considered official if they involve pizza, skate ramps, or my stu-” Donnie shut his mouth just in time. 

The genius cleared his throat. 

“Anyway, good luck with Angelo.” He was going to need it. Don loved his baby brother to pieces but damn was Mikey a mood. He winced. So was Leo lately.

“Thanks.”

***

Raphael shifted from one foot to the other. He felt real awkward. Should he knock? No, that's stupid. He had never knocked on the kitchen door before. 

“Uhm,” the snapper announced his arrival and entered. “Hey, big man, buddy, I don’t wanna bother you, but-”

“Then don’t,” Mikey interrupted, facing the fridge. Its fading light shone on his petite frame as he skimmed through yesterday’s leftovers. 

Raph grimaced. Great.

“I’ve come to notice you’re acting a teeny, tiny bit odd.”

“Is that so?” Mikey clicked his tongue. 

“Not just you, Leo too,” Raph hurried to add. “I… You’ve been pretty prickly these days.” 

Sweat pooled at the back of Raph’s neck at the first signs of annoyance on his lil brother’s face. Though Mikey was still focused on the contents of the refrigerator. 

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that! You went through a lot. We all did. And I -we were wondering why-”

“Can we please talk another time? I’ve got a headache,” Mikey warned. 

Not for the first time Raph had heard that excuse. “Uhm, you want one of those?” The snapper spread his arms in a gentle invitation of a hug. 

“Mikey?”

A few moments passed. 

“No,” his little brother said at last. He wasn’t looking or deliberately chose not to. 

“Oh.” The corners of Raph’s mouth pulled down. “Yeah, sure. I understand,” he replied, stinking of guilt. “I’m good at listening, too,” he tried again.

“Really?” The box turtle questioned. “It might be best if you listen to someone else.”

“Mike please, I can help.”

“I doubt that.”

“Just tell me what it is!” His voice rumbled heavy with emotions. “Are you in pain? Are your arms-”

“My arms are fine, Raph. I am not a baby.” 

Which was clearly a lie. 

“Are you tired?”

Mikey huffed. “I think I’ve slept enough for the past month.”

“Then what?” Frustration filled the snapper’s chest. “What could it possibly be?” The bigger turtle pushed knowing he shouldn’t. 

Mikey felt so far away, and Raph was never particularly good with words.  

“I- would you at least look at me?!” The snapper leaned forward. With a loud bang, he shut the fridge door. Big mistake. He’d demanded his brother's attention, and now he had it. Raph gulped. 

.
.
.

“How did it go?” Don asked.

“He bit me.”

“Oh, wow.” This was new. “At least he didn’t throw a bedpan at you. Apparently, medical scans without consent are ‘bad’ now.” 

“I wish Dad was here,” Raph admitted. 
 
“Sigh. Me too.” 

Chapter Text

Sleep wouldn’t come. Tangled in sweat-soaked sheets at 4 a.m., staring at the ceiling, Leo tried and failed not to count the minutes until morning arrived. He was better than that. 

Leo covered his eyes. The lair was too quiet and his thoughts too loud. He was so tired.  

A knock echoed through the dark. The slider blinked and turned his head. With a discontent whine, the door creeped open. Halfway through it stopped. 

Mikey stood in the doorway, rigid and shaking, almost afraid. 

Minutes went by and neither of them spoke - they’d exchanged enough words for today, none of them pleasant.

Leo sighed and lifted his blanket.

Wasting no time, his little brother stumbled into bed. The mattress dipped, and uncharacteristically cautious, the box turtle snuggled up to him. His warm forehead pressed against Leo’s plastron and he wrapped his arms around him. 

He felt sick, sick from trembling shoulders, from hot tears dripping down, and the weak grip with which he clung to him oh so desperately. 

Mikey chirped and Leonardo’s arms tightened. Once again, he did the opposite of saving the day. 

Chapter Text

It was no secret that Leo was the diva of the family. His Sexy-Getting-Ready playlist was feared among all Hamatos. The utensils he deemed necessary for decent skincare looked like they belonged to a torture chamber, not the small cabinet behind the mirror. Even Splinter avoided the bathroom during those horrifying hours. And yet… Donatello was just as bad as his twin. At least time-wise they were at the same level. But there had to be order. Structure. A routine. 
From the way the soft shell brushed his teeth to how he showered - ideal temperature 101.5 degrees, rinse twice, top to bottom, 8 minutes and 34 seconds. Everything was maliciously planned to guarantee maximum efficiency and productivity, ensuring THE perfect start to the day. 

Someone kicked against the door. Hard. 

Donnie flinched. He growled at his reflection and placed the black Sharpie on the rim of the sink. His brothers knew better than to disturb the process. It would mess up his whole day. Now he had to restart, do it all over again. 

All the more surprising when another kick followed. The wood shook on its hinges but held firm.

Enough was enough. Donnie’s Me-time was not only sacred but essential. He marched over and turned the key, fully intending to give whoever a piece of his mind as he yanked the bathroom door open- And backed away. 

In front of him stood his little brother, a nasty scowl on his face. 

“OUT,” Mikey hissed. 

“Eek!”

Chapter Text

“What’s up with that?” Raph pointed at the detective hat. 

“What about it?” The soft shell lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug and locked the lab door behind him. 

“It helps set the mood,” he added when his big brother shot him one of those looks.

“It belongs to Mikey.”

“You’re just jealous.” 

He was. 

“Besides,” Donnie continued as he sat down at the table. “I reserve all rights to Michael’s worldly belongings after he threatened to draw a mono-brow on my mask.”

“And the monocle?” Raph asked. “Is that really necessary, Don?” 

“Do not question the monocle!”

“Fine,” Raph huffed and took the seat next to him. “So, demo-possession?” He opened their meeting.

“Perhaps we save the ‘Leo-Logic’ as a last resort and try a more scientific approach first,” Donatello suggested mildly annoyed. 

Raph raised a brow.

“Sigh. All right then, let's go through the data. Two weeks ago, our brothers mutated from the sweetest lil cuddle bugs into passive-aggressive gremlins, and now I fear Angelo is going to dunk my head in the toilette for breathing wrong. What changed? What unknown variable are we missing? Is there any reason he could be mad at us?”

“You stole his hat.”

“That he knows about,” Donatello clarified with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“Hm.” Raph rubbed his chin as he mulled over the events of the last days. He’d broken the rice cooker, stepped on Mikey’s favorite crayons, ate the last slice of pizza, and nearly squashed the little guy by sitting on him.   

“No. I got nothing.” 

“Me neither.”

“Think one of them is a zombie-super-spreader and the other got infected? My money’s on Mike. Oh no, what if I’m next?”

“Raph,” Donnie interrupted and the snapper stopped his rambling. “Rational ideas, please.”

“Like what?”

“Maybe he’s sick?”

“Mikey doesn’t get sick.” The only exception was the occasional rat flue. “What else?”

“Fact is, he’s rude, sleeps in late, has a piss-poor attitude combined with a shorter temper than Draxum’s redemption arc. His behavior ranges from confrontational to downright aggressive. He literally snapped at you.” 

Raph winced. He didn’t like the way Don spoke about their youngest and yet he was right. There was no denying it. 
 
“You think it’s a,” Donnie trailed off. He took a deep breath, gathering his wits. “You know…”

“No. What is it, Don?”

“A puberty thingy?”
 
“Mikey’s too young for puberty.”

“He is 14,” the genius emphasized.
 
“Exactly.”
 
“Urgh. Leo is right, your math is seriously screwed,” Donatello argued, not willing to abandon his thesis just yet.

“Speaking of Leo, your theory doesn’t explain his behavior.”

“Fair enough.” 

“More important, what are we gonna do about them?”

“We tried talking, now it’s time for action! Muhahaha!”

Behind Raph’s back Shelldon readied the disposal unit.

“No, not this kind of action. Not yet.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

The Snapper turned around but all he could see was Dee’s innocently whistling drone. 

“Donnie,” he warned in a mockery of patience. 

“Don’t worry, you will love my plan. It plays right into your area of expertise.” 

Chapter Text

“Hello?”

The lair was dark. Dark and quiet. There was something in the air that made Splinter feel… uncomfortable. 

Flee, a voice whispered inside his head. 

Splinter kept going. Past the hallway. Past the kitchen. Past the- 

There was light in the living room. It shriveled beneath the door crack. 

“Boys?” 

The door swung open and the rat went through.

He tensed his shoulders. Little Orange sat in front of a muted TV. Mr. Snuffle-Puffle and his royal army of teddy bears held watch over him. They hovered in a close-drawn circle, either defending or containing. It was hard to tell in the dim light. On-screen, Jupiter Jerk sailed the seven galaxies, beating space pirates with a far too high special effects budget. His youngest wasn’t looking. A mess of colored pencils and markers sprawled around him. Engraved in each was the ‘Genius Built’ logo. 

“Orange?” 

Splinter’s gaze zeroed in on the All-Time-Champ mug next to him. His whiskers twitched as he witnessed a mountain of marshmallows drown in a sugary grave of hot cocoa.

Michelangelo cocked his head. Ever so slowly, it turned, rotating to a full 180 degrees. His big, unblinking eyes glowed in the dark. 

“Woooaaah!” Splinter lifted his hands, taking a step back. 

A grinding sound filled the room. 

Before he could decide whether it was a good idea to approach his tiny tangerine or not, two voices yelled simultaneously: “Nooo!”

Splinter was tackled to the ground. With a loud crash, he landed on the floor. The weight on his chest was restricting yet familiar. 

“Red? Purple?” He panted at his sons who had fallen into his arms. 

“Pops, thank God you are home!”

“What happened?” 

“Nobody died,” Donatello replied instinctively after a lifetime of ethically ambiguous experiments. 

“What kind of answer is this?!” Splinter asked as he wiggled out of his son’s death grip.

“Demon-possession,” his eldest offered an explanation to his previous question.

The rat man rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he dismissed by default. 

“I am feeling an odd mixture of pride and mortal terror,” Donnie muttered to no one while their father stood up. 

He shoved Red and Purple aside in order to flip the light switch. 

A nasty growl emerged from Orange’s mouth. 

“Point and case!”

Splinter raised his brow. “Let me see.” He walked over to the highly agitated turtle. 

“Careful!”

He ignored their warning and loomed closer. Gently, the rat pressed his hands to Michelangelo’s cheeks, only to jerk away when sharp teeth snapped at his fingers.

“Hmm,” Splinter frowned. He rubbed his chin. His gaze wandered around the room. 

Both Raph and Donnie held their breath, waiting for their father's verdict. Finally. 

“Orange is hungry. That’s all.” 

“Wait, what?”

“Orange is hungry,” Splinter repeated, patting the round head of his youngest son. A hiss emerged whenever his palm made contact. It was like playing a very angry bongo.

“Impossible,” Raph breathed flabbergasted. 

That couldn’t be it. Mikey got borderline feral when hangry, like 10 out of 10 on Donnie’s doomsday scale. And their baby brother was way too civil for that to be true, right? Right? Sure, Mikey hissed and headbutted and whatnot, but- 

“Oh, snap! He IS hungry, isn’t he?” 

How could Raph miss this? When was the last time he had actually SEEN him eat? 

“Pizza Supreme in the sky, help!”

“Calm down. Everything will be fine,” Splinter reassured. “Michelangelo just needs to eat.” 

“I don’t wanna.”

Chapter Text

The fam had assembled in the kitchen, including Leo.

“Son, what do you mean, you don’t wanna?” Splinter pried once more. 

“Mike, you have to at least eat something!” With full force, Raph unleashed his biggest-brother voice.
 
Nope. Not gonna happen. Mikey shook his head.
 
“Why?!” The snapper asked harshly, and Michelangelo retracted a tad into his shell.
 
Donnie grimaced. Way to go, Raph. In his humble opinion, Donatello thought the conversation was handled rather poorly, and with Dr. Feelings apparently on vacation, that wasn’t about to change soon. 

As expected, their baby brother remained stubbornly silent.
 
“We can’t help you if you don’t talk to us - your words, not mine.” Donatello reasoned before Raph could lose his temper about the situation in general.
 
Mikey’s lips quivered, and his terminal case of babyface disease took center stage.
 
“Orange?” Splinter placed his paw over his small trembling hands. 

Mikey shot a brief glance toward Leo, who’d been annoyingly quiet so far. Weird.

“I…,” Mikey swallowed against the razor blades in his throat.
 
Things were getting too much for the little guy, Donnie could tell. 
 
“My tummy hurts,” he finally admitted. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.
 
“Oh, Mike.” Raphael, ever the softy, pulled him into a big hug. 

Tears rolled down the box turtle’s cheeks as he nestled his beak into the crook of the other's neck. He hated the weakness shining in his cloudy eyes. Then, very quietly, “ ’m sorry.” He had been an awful brother, he knew.

“It’s okay, bud, Raph’s got you.”

Aww. The scene was distractingly cute. Donnie’s hindbrain cooed before his vocal cords could interfere. Yet the fuzzy feels were not meant to last. The softshell’s eyes shifted toward his other brother. Leo’s face was a blank mask. He hadn’t said a single word. No jokes. No quips. As if - 

“Did you know?” Donatello asked his twin. 

The atmosphere changed.

“Well, the early bird gets the worm.”

“Not an answer.”

Leo shrugged. His cold expression had nothing in common with his brother’s usual demeanor.
 
Donnie’s mouth went slack. He did! Of course. It made perfect sense. With a medical problem, Mikey would come to Leo first. 

“You knew.” A statement not a question.

Anger coiled inside him. Because Mikey was hungry. Because he was crying. Because they promised: never again! 

"What is wrong with you?!" The softshell snarled.

"Loaded question. Elaborate," Leo replied clipped.

Donatello had had enough of his brother's BS. He glared at his twin and his stone-faced killer impression and… oh. OH.

His eyes widened. Leo was hungry too.

Leo was hungry too!

When Mike got hangry he turned into a literal spawn of hell, Leo though, he became surprisingly cold. Emotionless. Withdrawn. All silent assassin. 

Donatello shuddered.

"Look, side effects are to be expected," the slider interrupted his thoughts.

"Side effects?" Donnie echoed. Side effects from what? It was unfair. He felt like he was missing some crucial information. 

Leo sighed defeated, and the softshell hated everything about it. 

"There is nothing we can do," he said, jump-starting Donnie’s brain. 

He gritted his teeth. Over and over he checked the data points, subtracting and adding facts as he filtered through past observations, recalling every little detail. Gastrointestinal dysfunction. Headaches. Fatigue. Could it be? 

"I am a medic, not a pharmacist and you are neither. No offense." 

Donnie bristled. Plenty of offense was taken. He opened his mouth to retaliate when it finally clicked.

His stomach reeled at what his twin was implying. With the amount of painkillers these two were on, their digestive system must be WRECKED. Hunger or pain. Either was horrible in its own unique way. And Leo had to choose not only for himself but for Angelo as well. 

"You are a dum-dum, that's what you are, for I am a genius," he declared. “There is nothing I can’t fix.” 

Chapter Text

“Purple? What’s going on?” Splinter asked suspiciously. 

“And why am I allowed to be in the lab?” Leo wondered, looking from one confused face to another. 

“Destiny in the making, Bebehh~” Donnie replied incredibly smug while he swooshed past his twin. 

“Jones, would you do the honors?” 

“Huh?”

The purple-banded turtle pointed to the see-through box sitting on his workbench. It had a hole on top with the exact same shape and form as THE key to the Prison Dimension. 

All eyes turned to Casey Jones Jr. 

Hesitantly, the boy from the future reached into his duffle bag. His shaking fingers positioned the relic in its intended place. It reminded him of the shape-sorter cubes from his childhood. Just, you know, made for an especially dense toddler. Casey wasn’t sure whether to feel insulted or not. Perhaps, it was for the best that it had only one option instead of several, he thought before he raised his chin and let go. He tended to fail in big moments. 

With the heaviest of thuds, they watched the key fall to the bottom. 

Donatello pulled down his goggles and cackled as he rubbed his hands together. 

“So, this is it? We are finally witnessing Don-Don’s villain-origin story,” the slider whispered loudly. The comment drew out a series of giggles from his baby bro. Leo loved the sound. 

“Offended Cough!” the softshell exclaimed before continuing with great dignity, “Friends and family, we are gathered here today to celebrate the victory of science over magic.” 

Leonardo cringed. Not this again. Donnie in speech mode was pure nightmare fuel. Maybe he could sneak out and - 

“Kneel before my might! For I will singlehandedly accomplish what no one has even dared to dream. Watch me destroy the key to the prison dimension!!!”

Donatello pressed a large red button on a remote, while a menacing laugh escaped him. 

Waves of pink acid poured into the box, flooding its contents and slowly dissolving everything in lazy clouds of green smoke.

“And done. Initiate clap-sequence.” He tipped something into his wrist computer and balloons rained from the ceiling, followed by a gigantic neon sign of Donatello’s face, that read ‘Donnie is our number 1!’. 
 
“You are welcome. And you are welcome. And you are also welcome.” One by one he pointed at his brothers and sister. 

For a moment, all was silent.

A satisfied smile formed on the genius’s lips when he saw the stunned look on his father’s and Casey’s faces. Wide eyes and jaw dropped. Oh yeah, that was the good stuff!

“Well done my son,” Splinter praised, still fighting for words. He was sure they’d tried acid already. Perhaps they shouldn’t have picked the green stuff. Simultaneously two voices behind him expressed their utmost disappointment. 

“Buuuhhhh!!!” Leo and Michelangelo gave him a thumbs down.

“Boring! I thought we agreed to throw it in a volcano.” April sided with them.

“That was… aggressively average,” the biggest turtle brother admitted bashfully. 

Not Raph too. “Scoff.” Donatello rolled his eyes. “And suddenly everyone’s a critic.”

“Where’s the pizzazz? The flair? The dazzle to my razzle?” Leo wanted to know. 

“Urgh.”

“We didn’t even get an explosion,” the youngest complained. 

Donatello blinked. “Oh, I forgot.” The turtle in purple pressed another button and two giant confetti cannons went off. “There you go, Angelo.”

“Oooh!” Mikey’s eyes began to lighten up as colorful snippets of paper danced through the air. 

“Miguel, no, don’t applaud that! It’s still lame.”

Donnie pouted. “You're all just a bunch of five-year-olds in the bodies of grown morons!” 

“Boohoo, cry me a river!”

The twins continued to bicker before a soft voice ended their quarrel. 

“You did it.” Casey sounded like glass. “You really did it! They’re gone. Forever.” He laughed, laughed so hard that his stomach hurt and he felt like throwing up, even though he’d barely eaten. He laughed until he began coughing from choking on air. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he hated how his eyes burned. Angry, he wiped his hands over them, missing the gentle smiles of his family in the process. He must look like a lunatic, yet he couldn’t stop laughing. It wasn’t even funny anymore. 

Mikey nudged his brother’s side and oh yeah! In an instant, the slider wrapped his arms around the other teen. 

“It’s over,” Leo whispered as he let the kid cry on his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles along his back. “I got you. It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re home. You’re not alone.”

Casey let out a heavy breath at the well-known chant. His whole body trembled, he could feel everything, every subtle movement Leonardo made. If he squinted his eyes just right he could tell himself it almost felt the same. Almost. 

“Awww, group hug!” Mikey announced a couple of moments later. More arms joined in and hauled them into the ultimate turtle pile. 

This was it, wasn’t it? They’d won. But why couldn’t Leonardo shake the feeling that they were missing something? Something important. But for the love of god, he couldn’t figure out what.

Chapter Text

It gnawed at the back of his mind. 

Something was wrong. Well, many things were wrong, but the past week had been weird - even by his standards. 

He was having these dreams. And yes, Leonardo was no stranger to nightmares, however, this felt different. Locked doors, fleshy tendrils, and hushed voices filled his head almost every night. He couldn’t describe it, but there was a sort of urgency implanted inside him, that made his steps restless.

He shuffled through the lair while he looked for something, except he didn’t know what it was. 

The space between his eyes furrowed. He stopped outside the living room. His mouth pressed into a thin line, tension engraved into each inch of his face. 

Michelangelo lay fast asleep on the couch, right where he’d left him after their movie marathon. Apparently, Raph had returned for a second round of cuddles. Hardly unusual. Still, the knot in his stomach remained tight. 

His gaze shifted to his older brother’s massive arms wrapped around the small box turtle as he hulked over him. 

Leo couldn’t quell the bad feeling that emerged at the picture. Which was crazy! Raph’s arms were the safest place he knew, and yet… 

Mikey stirred, trying to shove the bulk off that had him trapped underneath its weight, but the snapper just squeezed closer.

He looked uncomfortable as he struggled against the iron grip, almost painfully so. A little more and it might even leave bruises.

“Room for one more?” Leo asked as his lil bro rubbed the sleep from his eyes, attempting to relieve him of the position as personal stress ball. 

Raphael’s lips pulled back in a hiss. He hissed. At. His. Own. Brother! It was a low, dangerous sound, born from the thing inside furthest away from human.

The room went very quiet.

“Rude,” Leo laughed into the tension before anybody could say anything.

“Sorry.” His older sibling was quick to apologize. He seemed confused, still slightly drowsy, with his body not willing to let Mikey go. 

“Raphie?” 

Instantly, Raphael flinched. He removed his hands, scrabbling away from his brother like he’d been burned.

Both younger turtles frowned as they watched him flee the room. 

“How about we all go to bed?” Leo suggested uneasily, and Michael nodded. 

“ ’kay.”

Weird. Definitely weird.

Chapter Text

Leonardo was drowning. He couldn’t breathe. His body had been plunged into cold, murky water, obscuring his vision as purple lights swirled around him. 

In search of sweet, sweet air he went in the only direction that made sense. Up. 

After what felt like an eternity, the turtle reached something solid. Gently, he pressed his palm into it, but the silent barrier didn’t move. Of course not - life had a personal vendetta against him. He was surprised, however, at how warm the lid felt, as warm as his hands. His fingers lingered until his mind couldn’t tell where his skin ended and the smooth surface began. A strange sense of familiarity embraced him, swaying him slowly from left to right. Inch by inch it lulled him in.   

He blinked against the static roar in his ears, realizing he wasted precious time. Time he didn’t have. There was air above him. He knew. He pushed harder against the cover, shoved upward with all his might. Nothing. It wouldn’t budge. Calm and steady, his prison held firm. He was trapped.             

The reality he was now in, gradually settled between his lungs. Leo wanted to cry out for help but obviously didn’t. He could hold his breath for about 30 minutes. He had 21 left. 

With all the focus he could muster, he let his fingers wander. There had to be an out, but the smooth top remained unrelenting. For the longest moment he thought that this was it, but the universe had other plans. In his darkest hour, he found the crack in the armor. A line scratched into the flat surface far too deep to be by accident. Slow and deliberately he traced along, following the rectangle edges. He could feel its purpose. This was his exit. A door.

Eagerly, he looked around and was relieved to discover its lock. Right in the middle, a small black hole shone ever so brightly. But where was the - 

His lungs began to protest. Something was off. His body turned cold and his guts spasmed. Thinking clear became ridiculously difficult. For a confused second it felt as if something wanted to get in instead of out. He shook his head, trying to concentrate. All he had to do was find something, anything, to open the lid with, to escape.  

…key. 

A key. Find the key. Where was it? Where was the key? 

Leo dove down, submerging himself deeper into his watery grave. 

With each stroke, the liquid darkened. The faint purple shimmer that pierced through his surroundings faded into a dim red while the pressure inside his chest increased. Soon nothing would be able to illuminate the shadows, and all he could see was black.   

A shiver ragged his body. He looked below at the endless pit waiting to swallow him, yet he kept going, pushing into the cold beyond.

The lack of oxygen slowly caught up with him. How long had it been? 10 minutes. 15. Almost half an hour had passed, and the bottom still wasn’t in sight. How much longer could he hold out? 

Find …key. 

Dread made him sink faster. His lungs screamed under the building pressure. He was running out of air and he felt the burn. His hope started to crumble as he grew more and more desperate. There had to be - 

He saw it! A glimmer of orange in the distance. The slider forced his body to move, kicked his legs as hard and fast as he could, dragging himself through the heavy water as he followed the faint scent of light.

…key.

An eerie darkness greeted him at the bottom of the tank, hiding the thing that lured him in. The spark was gone.
 
He dipped his hands down into the grim sludge. A terrified yell escaped him and he coiled back at the sensation of hungry tentacles slithering around his limbs. For a second, he was enveloped in a cloud of oh-so-precious bubbles. He watched them flee, and all he wanted was to do the same. 

Key! Where? Bring …key. It was his only option. 

Leonardo steeled himself. He jammed his hand into the jungle of vines, quelling the feeling of nausea that arose when those things wrapped around him yet again. His arms quickly went from side to side. It had to be here somewhere. 

A sickening ooze accumulated on the floor and billowed up under him. He could barely see, but he continued his search. He couldn’t give up. Not now. He was so close.

One hand clasped over his mouth while the other frantically dug through the disgusting mass of dissembled dread. Fear crept into his bones. His hand clamped tighter around his lips and nostrils as he struggled to hold it together. He needed to get out, needed to get home, needed the key! 

Once more the hazy flash of gold appeared. 

Yes, yes, yes! The key!

A noise erupted from somewhere. He felt as if something was trying to suck him out of his body and it took all his effort to stay within. His lungs spasmed painfully. It hit him like a full-body punch that cleaved him in half. There was no air left inside him. He couldn’t breathe, he was going to die. His panic intensified. He fought for every last bit of oxygen. His throat was on fire while a thousand needles drilled into it. The urge to breathe became unbearable until it finally overwhelmed him. Leonardo reached his breaking point. Trashing inside his invisible prison he forgot just what it was that kept him gripped so tight and let it in. His mouth snapped open and he invited the impossible cold into his lungs. 

The reprecation was brutal. It filled him with inevitable, unstoppable horror as it passed in from all directions. There was only one thing worse than suffocating: breathing in water. 

It was pure torture. Every cell in his body was ripped apart. In pure agony, he curled into himself. He wanted to peel the skin from his bones just to feel something else besides the hot white pain scorching through him.

He was burning. 

He was drowning. 

God, it hurt so bad.

He needed it to stop… go home. Needed …key

For one last time, his hand slid across the ground and reached out. 
 

“Leo!”

With a stuttering breath, Leo jolted awake. His plastron was heaving with each greedy gulp of air he took. 

“Earth to Leonardo.” 

The voice sounded distorted as if he was still underwater.

A hand waved in front of his face.

“Huh?” 

“I asked what you would like for breakfast?”

“Miguel?” He blinked through his confusion, yet the world kept spinning. 

His eyes darted around the room. Where- Was he in the kitchen? How had he gotten here? 

The small turtle frowned. “You all right?”

It felt like his brain was barely able to catch up like he was two steps behind.

“Yeah sure, don’t worry Hermanito. I am fine.” The lie came easy and he patted his brother's head.  

Michelangelo didn't look convinced, but thankfully granted him some space as he turned towards the stove. 

“Pancakes it is.” 

Chapter Text

Leo’s eyes were fixed on the ceiling, his body calmmy and sweaty. He couldn’t sleep. It happened from time to time. Nothing new. Nothing to worry about. Just his insomnia acting up. Everything was fine - He was fine. Better than fine. They’d won. They were safe. Nothing there that could hurt him or his family. He repeated the thought over and over, trying to convince his racing heart until the room got too small to hold the chaos in his mind. 

He took a shallow breath. They’d gone through a lot in the past couple of months. It was totally normal to feel a little on edge. Besides the others would have said something if - 

A wave of relief rushed through him as his pondering was cut off by the sound of a lab door opening and closing. Donnie. Thank the almighty pizza supreme. Leonardo skipped the meltdown he was about to have and swung his legs out of bed. His brother was the perfect distraction. Carefully, he danced around the pile of comics on the floor. He wouldn’t want to step on his newest addition - Jupiter Jim 358 - The Man on the Moon. 

A sly smile stretched over his face. It was time for some lighthearted brotherly fun. After all, annoying his twinny-twin-twin was one of his biggest passions, and if he was lucky he’d get some sweet blackmail material out of it. He deserved a special treat, and hearing the 'Great Donatello' scream like a little girl always managed to cheer him up. Mikey would be so proud of him, he was doing the self-care thing. Besides he needed a new ringtone anyway. 

Quietly, the slider snuck out of his room, readying himself for a good old jump scare. His chest was filled with giddy excitement. He shifted his weight and focused in on his approaching prey, mindful to stick to the shadows. 

The ‘boo’ froze on his lips when he met his twin’s eyes. 

“Dee?”

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. The alarm bells blared inside his head. They were not allowing him to be ignored again as Donnie walked past him, weapon in hand and eyes hidden under the milky membrane of his third eyelid. 

Did he even realize Leo was there? He just kept on dragging his feet one after another further away from him. His mouth moved, forming words that didn’t make sense, mumbling something about his lost keys and getting them back. 

Leo felt dizzy and confused and suddenly there was ice in his veins and curling around his chest. It was cold and it hurt and he had to stifle the dread that accompanied the sounds of Donnie scuffing in the distance. 

He moved on autopilot when he noticed in which direction his brother headed. The cold in his stomach subsided and was replaced with an empty pit. 

He stopped at the entrance of Michelangelo’s room and peered inside the train car. It looked like a scene straight out of a horror film, Donnie looming over their youngest, his Tech Bo raised high, ready to strike down. 

And that's when Leonardo decided he’d seen enough. He lunged forward, grabbed the weapon before it could land, and tackled his brother to the ground. 

With a hard thud, they both hit the floor. Donnie’s body convulsed painfully as he fell back and Leo winced. He wasn’t wearing his battle shell. The genius’ struggled to get out of the other’s grip, yet the uncoordinated mess of movements died as soon as a sticky liquid emerged underneath them. 

“Ewww!” Donnie’s voice dripped with disgust, and Leo could have kissed his big beautiful forehead. 

“Donnie!”

“What the?” Donatello shoved against a cloud of frustration and fear. “Nardo?” His eyes were finally clear and wandered down to the substance he’d fallen into. Was that paint? Why was he in Angelo’s room? Even dumpsters had higher hygiene standards than his brother’s quarters. He would never -

“What am I doing here?” The softshell asked. 

“You know, nothing special, besides trying to maim our beloved baby bro in his sleep,” Leo jibbed stressed. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, oh.” 

The silence grew cold between them. Something shifted and without a warning, Michelangelo stared down at them with a calculating look. Still cuddled in his hammock, a deep frown was engraved on his face. He was eerily quiet and for once his expression was unreadable.

“Uhm,” How to explain? 

The box turtle’s eyes dipped shut for an agonizingly long moment before he opened them again. Unfocused and gaze heavy-lidded, he tilted his head. There was an unnatural stillness within him that made Leo’s heart rate pick up. Was he all right? What if not? What if… The slider swallowed around his queasy feelings. 

“A penny for your thoughts dear brother,” he said the first thing that came to mind.

Michelangelo hesitated for what seemed like another eternity. 

“You two would make such a great carpet,” he yawned idly. Lazy amusement layered over his face, not particular bothered by his sibling’s odd behavior. 

The easy trust from his little brother was as reassuring as always and Leo relaxed. He’d dealt with this kind of crazy all his life. “You know what, I want my money back, Miguel.”

.
.
.

Even tho Leo loved good drama as much as the next turtle, this called for an intervention. Right now. He’d gathered his brothers around the kitchen table, with Mikey flopped against the back of Raph’s shell. He grimaced at their grumpy expressions. It was 4 in the morning and neither looked particularly happy with their current out-of-bed situation. Which was fair. However, Leo wouldn’t postpone the matter. He wasn’t an idiot, he’d seen enough movies to know where this was going. Besides, after the previous ruckus caused by the twins both his brothers were up anyway. 

“So, anyone having strange dreams lately?” He asked chipper and successfully sidestepped all sense of tact. 

“I do,” Raph admitted with a frown while rubbing his thumb over his chin. “For the last week or so. But what does this have to do with anything? We all get nightmares from time to time, right?” 

Donnie shifted uneasily in his seat. Could it be…? He pressed the tips of his fingers together and brought them up to his lips. No. Impossible. 

Leo scowled at his twin, trying to not look shady at all. He willed himself to calm down and squeezed his eyes shut. Of course. This had evil-science-guy written all over it. “Donnie? Donnie-Tronnie. Big D. - My Man~” Leo looped his arm around Donatello's shoulder before pulling the younger turtle closer to his side. “What. Did. You. Do?” Leo’s hand clasped tighter around his twin. 

An indignant scowl formed on Donatello’s face. “I beg your pardon?” He replied at his brother’s accusatory tone. “I didn’t do…“ Self-consciously, he thinned his mouth into a grimace as he mulled over who knows what in his head. “On second thought I kinda...” 

The softshell leaped to his feet. 

“It has to be the biomatter sample I’ve grown.”

Without another explanation, Donatello rushed into his lab, while the rest of the Mad Dogz followed him hot on his heels. 

“Yuck!”

“Are you kidding me!?!” Leo clenched his jaw so much it hurt. 

Right on top of Donnie’s workbench stood a sealed glass tank with a nasty fleshy pink tentacle in it. The thing curled sluggishly like a dying eel in the purple light. Leo was going to be sick.

“Why would you?” Raph stuttered with the pensive look of someone who wanted answers but didn’t know how to ask questions. 

Donnie lifted his arm to drag a hand down his face. There were a lot of layers to the question and right now he didn’t want to get into any of them. “Listen, I understand this may seem bad, but I have everything under control. The probe is most likely responsible -”

“You have KRANG Prime Leftovers!” Leo yelled at Donnie. He was barely keeping himself from punching him in the face. 

Donatello flinched at his harsh tone. Leo looked furious. “Let's stay calm here.”

“I AM CALM!”

“Demon possession!!!” Mikey pointed at Donnie’s cursed pickle jar and Leo grinned feral. At least one of his brothers got his drift. 

“Leo wait!”

Too late. The slider swung his odachi and slashed right through the giant tapeworm. As soon as the blade hit, his eyes flashed blue and his mouth opened in a silent scream. 

For a couple of moments, nobody knew what to do. 

When his sword clattered to the ground, the chaos emerged. 

“Leo!” 

Since when was he on his knees? Right beside him was his family, worry and fear engraved into their faces. His little brother was next to him and Leonardo’s hand shot up, holding on to his wrist in a desperate white-knuckled grip before squeezing him into a hug.

“Okay, this one goes definitely in the volcano,” Leo groaned before passing out.

***

Leonardo’s world was bathed in fuzzy shades of blue. The scent of empty space hit him so sudden, it almost gave him mental whiplash. Once more he’d been pulled into the abyss of fallen titans. And he wasn’t sure if he could take it. 

In a way, he was back, but at the same time, he wasn’t. Just a flickering specter. That’s all. Barely there in the first place. Never enough for the lurking shadows to get a hold of him. 

“…KEY!” A low inhuman sound wormed itself in between Leo’s ears. It cracked his ribs wide open in hollow terror. Krang Prime.

The slider bit back his crazed laughter. This couldn’t be true. He gritted his teeth. Not again. 

“My …KEY!” The creature of his deepest nightmares hollowed. It waited. Patiently and greedily, waiting and waiting and waiting for some awful event to unfold that would bring its freedom and their demise.
 
It was only natural for Leo that in the face of overwhelming doom spite was the thing that had found its way on his lips first. 

“Yeah, yeah. We get it. You want your stupid key. Hate to break it to you Mi Amigo, it’s gone.” Leo snarled worn and desperate. 

“We destroyed it. Not a single piece left.” Donnie made sure of it, the slider grunted happily at the thought. You’ll never lay a hand on my family again. Not now, not ever. 

The suggestion of a smile began to form on Leo’s face. “You’re stuck in here for all eternity,” he taunted, but oddly enough didn’t make him feel any better. 

In the depths of the empty void, the atmosphere trembled with rage. A big wave came screaming. It shrieked across a wild and angry ocean of darkness, hitting him full-on. 

Yellow eyes glistened menacingly as reality broke all around him.

“MIKEY!” 

Chapter Text

“Dee!” An overjoyed chirp greeted, accompanied by a bone-crushing hug from his little brother. 

“Welcome home!” 

Mikey nuzzled his squishy, green cheeks up against Donnie’s.

“Have I ever told you how brave and strong you are?”

Donatello raised an eyebrow. “No, but I’ve always thought so.”

“You’re such a dreamboat!” 

“Say what now?” Raph sputtered almost dropping the bag containing the loot of their top-side run. ‘Jupiter Jim The Movie: Alpha Command - Lights on, Atomic Lass!’. An all-time classic. “Raph is confused.” 

Leo bit his lips to suppress a gleeful cackle. There was only one explanation. 

“How about a snack?” Mikey asked as sweet as sugar. He took his clueless victim’s hand into his own shaking ones and lured him toward the kitchen. 

Leo and Raph glanced at each other and tagged along. 

“Tempting, why not?” Donnie shrugged as he got dragged into the box turtle’s domain. He could go for - 

“Ooohhh! Is that Artisan Flatbread?” Donatello rushed towards the table. The smell was divine.

“Course! And flavorless juice,” Mikey beamed and nodded enthusiastically. An adorable expression adorned his face, paired with the most sunshine smile in his arsenal. “Anything for my favorite bro.” 

The turtle in purple paused mid-bite. The cogs turned and slowly he put the slice down. 

“What did you do?” 

Donnie's blunt question earned him a laugh from their youngest. 

“Nothing!” Mikey pulled back, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. 

Donnie squinted his eyes. The air around his baby bro reeked of guilt.

“Angelo?” 

The box turtle picked at the wrappings around his arms. “Can’t I just be nice to you?”

“If you tell me now, there shan't be any consequences~” 

“Uh,” Mikey shot Leo a nervous look.

“Don’t fall for it,” the slider whispered, munching on the neglected food. It tasted delicious. 

“Tell me the truth. Promise no hard feelings.”

“Remember our seminar, ‘Hug It Out’? There is a sequel - ‘The best things in life aren’t things’.” Mikey had the decency to not make any eye contact. “Followed by ‘Mistakes Happen’.”

“Oh. Oh no.” Not again.

“Dee wait, ”Mikey squawked as Donnie shoved past him, heading for his lab, his three brothers in tow. 

The genius stood in front of the open iron door. His mouth moved in silence, eyes trailing over the mess. “How?”

“Holy guacamole,” Raph exclaimed baffled behind him. 

The laboratory was trashed, totally wrecked - ripped-out cables, smashed monitors, vicious sparks emitting from Donnie’s super collider as it took its last breath on his workbench. The tragedy. The damage. The destruction. 

“You!!!” Donatello shrieked and spun around. “You reckless, irresponsible-”

“I-”

“No! This is it!” How many times did he have to rebuild? To watch his belongings burn? To lose everything that granted him the slightest bit of solace? Of normality? 

“But Dee -”

“No. I had it with you,” Donatello growled. “ You.” He drilled his finger into Michelangelo’s plastron, pushing him away with each word. “Are. A. Bad. Brother!”

Ouch.

“I hereby ban you from my lab. Forever!” 

His word was final. A line had been crossed. There was no turning back now. 

For the rest of the day, Donatello showed the box turtle the cold shoulder. He was angry. Rightfully so. 

The softshell skipped lunch, and instead of having dinner with his brothers as per usual, he opted to take his share to go. But not without shooting a dirty look in Michael’s direction. Hmph! 

Later, when his brother entered the living room to join movie night, Donnie had already made himself comfortable on the couch. The second he saw orange, he rose from his seat. No way would he - 

“I, um, it’s fine,” the youngest hurried to say. “I’ll - I’m not in the mood for a movie anyway.” 

Mikey left, an anxious smile on his pale face. 

“Really, Donald?” Leo glared at his twin. It was rare for Donnie and Mikey to fight. Not unheard of, but they hadn’t done so in years. In a strange way, their two crazies just clicked. With Donnie’s rough edges and Michelangelo as soft and malleable as needed to be. Together they were an unstoppable force to be reckoned with. Unfortunately, they also knew exactly how to get under each other's skin. Mikey gave as good as he got, and Donatello wasn’t one to pull punches, using every opportunity to make the other feel bad. However, something weird was going on. Maybe Leo should intervene before Donnie accidentally set the house on fire.

“You saw what he did with your own eyes,” Donatello countered. “Wherever Mikey goes, chaos and calamity ensue. Everything he touches comes to ruin, and we, the innocent, are left to pick up the pieces.”

“You’re being dramatic, Don.” Raph rolled his eyes. 

“Annoyed scoff.” Of course, they would take Mikey’s side. “He didn’t even say sorry!”

“True, but to be fair, you barely gave him a chance.” 

“Well too bad.” Donatello folded his arms. “He did this to me. It was his doing. And now he must reap what he has sown!” 

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“Dee?” Mikey hovered outside the lab. His eyes strained against the pressing darkness. Leo and Raph had gone to bed hours ago.

Shifting from one foot to the other, he called out again, voice hushed and gravelly. 

“Go. Away.” 

The box turtle winced at the rejection echoing through the empty hallways. 

“Please.” He waited for a couple more moments. Just in case. 

His shoulders slumped when the door remained shut.

Left with no other choice, he retreated to his room. He curled up in his bed, hiding under his blankets. Faint sniffles and whimpers escaped from under the bundle, morphing into full-blown sobs. Pain continued to throb up his arms to his chest as the long night wore on.

It hurt. Real bad.

Chapter Text

“Step away from the counter!”

Leo did as he was told, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Good. Hands where I can see them.” 

Slowly, the slider lifted his arms while turning around. 

“Raph-a-doodle,” Leo greeted with false bravado. “Buenos dias.”

“Quit joking,” his older brother growled, not having any of it. “Now drop those.”

“Killjoy,” Leo pouted.

His big bro jerked his chin in his direction once more. He didn’t dare take any chances. 

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he warned. 

“Fine. Whatever.” He opened his palm. Two slices of bread landed on the floor, butter-side down. 

“What were you even trying to do?” 

With the imminent disaster avoided, Raph’s shoulders relaxed. 

“Toasting?”

Raphael frowned. His gaze wandered from the hysterically peeping microwave back to the perfectly fine working toaster. Dear spirits, sometimes his brother was dumb as shit. He groaned, ready to point out the error of his way, yet thought better of it. He swore the freaking tin can had just hissed at him. Ever so often Raph yearned for simpler days - before Donnie’s ‘fix’ - when toasters were still toasters and not petty weapons of mass destruction.   

“You know you’re not allowed to use any kitchen appliances since the infamous incident from 2012 of which we do not speak of in this house.” The snapper opted to play it safe. He wasn’t willing to deal with a mental breakdown on an empty stomach.
 
“Excluding the coffee maker,” Leo piped up.
 
“Excluding the coffee maker,” Raph parroted dutifully. He fell silent, waiting for an explanation from the younger turtle. When nothing followed, he added, “Mikey will have your head when he finds out.”

“IF he finds out,” Leo corrected with a sly grin. “Speaking of dear Miguel - great segue by the way - where is our beloved baby bro?” 

Raphael made a confused sound. Unlike him, Mikey tended to be an early bird. 

“Haven’t seen the little guy,” he admitted. “Not since last night.”

“He was rather upset,” Leo agreed while pouring himself a cup of coffee instead of torturing the innocent cooking utensils. 

“I am sure he’ll come around eventually.” 

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.
.

Morning had come and gone with no sign of the box turtle.

“Let's check on him,” Raph told Leo when he couldn’t take it any longer. “My big-brother-senses are tingling.”

“Mikey?” The snapper’s huge form lingered at the doorway. “Buddy, are you -”

“Coming through, Mike,” Leo announced as he squeezed past the snapper, and entered the room. 

At first, he thought it was empty, but a huddle on the hammock caught his eye. Small and familiar.

“Oh, honey~” Instinctively, he picked up Mikey’s shell and pressed it close to his chest.

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Donatello walked down the corridor. He could hear his brothers fussing inside Michael’s room and gritted his teeth. 

Mikey was used to getting what he wanted. Well, not this time. His cheap tricks may work on Leo and Raph, but he wouldn’t cave. Crocodile tears and puppy dog eyes only got you so far in life. Even if they had a 98% success rate. 

“I ain't swayed that easily, buckero,” the softshell muttered. Hard as nails! 

He was just doing it for the attention anyhow. And as always the universe bent backward for the spoiled brat. He was acting like a total baby. It was getting old real fast. For far too long, his family had indulged his careless attitude and coddled poor lil’ Angelo. That would stop today. His cutesy act wouldn’t cut it. The arrogance with which he approached the world was insufferable. He had to learn, had to grow up. Actions have consequences! He wasn’t invincible. Far from it - if anything, the opposite - and their brothers wouldn’t always be there to bail him out. 

Donnie steeled his face and went on whilst continuing his silent treatment. Payback was a bitch and he had work to do. Thanks to his brother now more than ever. 

“D?” asked Shelldon, who’d waited by his charging station. “Um, I am sorry. It was an accident.” 

Chapter Text

“You did what?!?”

Shelldon flinched at the harsh tone. 

“What were you thinking? We’ve talked about this! No drone races in the lair. Seriously.” Donatello pinched the bridge of his nose, more tired than angry. “You know how delicate my tech is - delicate being a synonym for highly explosive.” 

“I didn’t mean to.” The robot looked dejected at the floor. 

“Please understand, I am not saying this out of spite, I am telling you because I only want what’s best for you. I don't want you to get hurt. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I know.”
 
“If something happened to you, I don't know what I'd do.”

”I…” Shelldon hesitated. “Sorry D.” 

The softshell took a deep breath to clear his thoughts and waited for his creation to explain. 

“I wasn’t racing. I was working on a project and… “ He turned his face away. “Sorry,” the drone repeated. 

Donatello winced, channeling his inner Dr. Feelings. 

“How about we get you your own workspace then?”

“Really?” he asked, his voice quiet and filled with hope.

Donnie nodded. “Really, really.” 

“Thanks, Dee! You’re the best!” Shelldon did a somersault midair before once again floating unsure up and down again. 

“Eye role.” The turtle in purple spread his arms wide. “Come here!” 

He closed them in a tight embrace as Shelldon accepted the invitation with a happy beep-beep-boop. This was as good as it could get. Mikey would be very pleased. Speaking of which, he owed his little brother an apology and from the sound of Shelldon’s excited coding a thank you as well. 

.
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.

Donatello hated being wrong. It didn’t happen often, not counting his many failed inventions, cause that’s not being wrong it's just not getting it right on the first try - which was totally different - and yet here he was. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. There was no way around it. He’d royally forked up. Mikey had nothing to do with anything. 

“Sigh.”

Time to swallow his pride and face the strangely twisted perfectionism rooted inside him, because real men take accountability! 

Donnie lifted his chin and balled his hands into fists. He’d been stalling for long enough. Besides, he had a little brother waiting for him. 

“Angelo?” The softshell asked as he stepped through the mouth of the cave directly into the dim shine of the dancing fairy lights his baby bro loved so much. 

With the colorful buckets of paint and spray cans on the ground, Mikey’s room always felt more like an atelier than an actual place to live in.

“It’s me, your favorite brother.” 

He ignored the ominous shadows drawn on the walls and went further in.

“I talked to Shelldon.” 

The mutant turtle stopped in front of the hammock.

“He told me everything. How you came to his aid.” He was so bad at this. “I think an apology is in order,” the genius addressed the box turtle’s shell. His brothers haven’t been able to coax him out. 

“I am sorry.” 

Donnie sunk down onto the soft orange fabric next to him. Slowly he pulled his upper body back while putting his legs forward and then tucked in his feet. He repeated the motion to build up momentum as he freed some of his pent-up energy by gently swinging the hammock back and forth. 

“I should have verified my data before conducting an analysis and reach my conclusion. I promise it won’t happen again.” 

Donnie drew in a long breath when Mikey didn’t reply. It wasn’t much fun being on the other side. Oh well, he probably deserved it. 

“Also, I don’t think you are a bad brother. I’ve been a real jerk. Sorry. I should have listened to you and not just assumed, well, the worst. I hope you can forgive me.” 

No reaction.

“So, how would you rate this once-in-a-lifetime experience?” 

Silence. 

“Right.” Donatello hung his head. “I’ll, um, leave you to it then.”

Mikey’s shell rolled downward during Donnie’s not-at-all-awkward struggle to climb out of his sibling’s ridiculous sleeping arrangement. The carapace tipped over. It brushed against his leg and Donatello’s eyes narrowed. 

He hadn’t noticed before, but the shell was closed. Completely closed. He’d never seen it sealed all the way up. Usually, there was always a pair of eyes peeking through the darkness, however right now the slit appeared almost airtight. 

“Hey Angelo, I understand you’re mad at me, and that’s cool and all, but I need you to come out for a sec.” 

His brother still refused to emerge, and something cold settled in between his rib cage. It was strange, Donnie noted as he continued to stare at him. Mikey wasn’t one to hold grudges, especially not toward his brothers. And most certainly not when they said sorry. He was a rather peaceful turtle, out of their siblings the most forgiving and accepting one. 

“For realsies, Michelangelo.” 

The softshell’s heartbeat picked up. Why wasn’t he coming out? 

“Mikey?” 

His hand reached forward. 

“Please.” 

He could feel faint trembles beneath his fingers as he scooped him up and cradled him to his chest. God, his little brother was so small. He felt like he weighed nothing. Less than nothing.

“Angie it’s okay.”

Small whimpers mixed with the sounds of wheezing and sporadic breathing, and Donnie’s stomach turned. Shit! 

He was such an idiot. Nothing was okay. Mikey was hurt - actually hurt. How could he be so blind? When was the last time he’d taken his pain meds? After the invasion, the genius devoted a huge part of his attention adjusting the drugs to fit turtle-anatomy better. Needless to say, he’d succeeded. As if the fields of biotechnology and pharmacology could be a match for his supreme intellect. The results of his labor were stored in a super special refrigeration unit in his lab - the amount of energy the baby needed to be powered was too great to set it up anywhere else - and last night he’d just… Spirits, what had he done? 

“Please.” 

Too late. 

He tasted the bile on his tongue when he realized his baby bro was stuck in an infinite loop. When stressed and hurt, the box turtle retracted into his shell, to get out he needed his painkillers, but he could only take those when he wasn’t in his shell and… It was impossible. Mikey was literally locked in by his turtle instincts. His mind was racing. The system was not responsive to the signals sent in regards to the process and he couldn’t safely interrupt the processor. Not without shutting it down. 

Donatello didn’t know how to fix this.

“LEO!!!” 

Chapter Text

“Ground control to Major Don, you there?”
 
Leo snapped his fingers in front of the softshell’s face and Donnie blinked out of his trance. He opened his eyes, which had closed themselves. The harsh light of the infirmary welcomed him. His gaze drifted toward his twin. Leo’s expression told a story of apathy, indifference and a splash of contempt. Again he felt like throwing up. 

“Okay, everyone stay calm and nobody has to die.” 

The joke fell flat as red images stained themselves on the inside of Donatello’s mind. There had been too many close calls over the past year and he was still shaken up by the ‘what ifs’ of it all.  

Raph shifted on the stretcher with Mikey on his lap. His grip tightened around their lil’ brother’s shell. One last time, he tried to lure him out. Donatello’s heart was beating so loud he couldn’t understand a single word he said. It didn’t matter though. He failed anyway. 
  
“Are you sure -”

Something between annoyance and genuine hurt crossed Leonardo’s face, immediately silencing their former leader. 

Leo’s attention returned toward his twin and Donnie swallowed around the lump in his throat.  

“Hand me the hedge shears,” the slider continued chipper.

“Charming.” 

Rust covered the heavy garden tool while its blunt blades screeched pitifully. It could have been worse. At least he hadn’t asked for the crowbar.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Leo lied with a grin as he took the thing out of Donnie’s violently shaking hands and into his own. 

His smile grew tense, but his grasp around the handle was steady - or perhaps clenching too hard to tremble. 

Donatello’s eyes trailed behind him as he walked over to their baby bro. Logically, he knew the only way was through. He knew Leo would never hurt him. He knew that! And yet… he worried. It was risky. There might be permanent damage.    

“Last chance Miguel.” 

Leo could have talked to a wall. 

“Keep him still,” he warned Raph in a tone that told him in no uncertain terms to goddamn trust him. 

The slider put the tip of the hedge shear between the small space of carapace and plastron. 

Breath in. Breath out. A silent prayer to the pizza supreme above. He would not mess this up. 

Carefully, he wiggled it inside his brother. Just a bit. Just to get enough leverage.

Three more breaths.

He twisted the shear, turning it to pry his baby brother’s shell open. 

There was a pop. It felt like the cheery on top of this nightmare cake. White noise eclipsed Donatello’s auditory perception. Someone spoke - Leo, he was certain. Who else? He couldn’t hear a single word, couldn’t hear the hum of the machinery, could only hear the static of his brain short-circuiting. Mikey’s plastron was pushed down. Inch by inch, the slit widened, exposing an inky darkness as it was forced to expand with every beat of his heart. 

“There you go, lil bro,” Leo gritted through his teeth, still smiling somehow. 

This was his fault. 

“I’m gonna insert the tube now.” 

Leonardo reached behind his back and all the softshell could do was stare. He fought a panic attack he couldn’t afford to have and put the rubber tubing in his waiting hand. 

Leo shoved it through the gap inside Mikey. 

“Almost done. You’re doing great,” he encouraged. “Next nurse Tello will turn on the gas.”

By some small miracle, Leo resisted the temptation to make a fart joke, and Donatello was forever thankful for that.

“Don’t worry, he mixed up some good stuff for ya,” Leo carried on. “All you gonna do is take a deep breath and the pain will go away. Can you do that for your big bro? Just inhale, I know you can.” 

Leo nodded and Donnie flipped the switch on the ventilator, releasing sublimated painkillers into the air. 

An eternity later and they removed the tube as well as the hedge shear that kept the shell open during the application process. Both carapace and plastron appeared fine. No breakage or cracks. It also didn’t close again. That had to be a good sign, right? Yet their youngest still didn’t emerge.
 
“Let's make him more comfortable,” Leo suggested tired. He clapped his hand over Donnie’s shoulder. “You got this.”

“I…” The genius looked unsure. “Yeah.”

When they were little they had done this quite a lot, pillow forts, cuddles, heat lamps, whatever Mikey needed he’d be there for him.

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Mikey woke to the sound of tapping. He felt warm and safe and so very, very cozy. One by one his stiff limbs stretched, reaching for the sweet light above. He yawned and smacked his dry lips together. 

“Angelo?”

Not willing to let go, he nuzzled and purred deeper into the welcoming heat of pillows and blankets. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been such a dum-dum,” the voice said. 

“Hmmm,” the box turtle hummed content as he wrapped his arms around something smooth and soft. Donnie, his mind provided. 

Michelangelo tensed. 

Before he could pull away, soothing circles rubbed over his shell and he relaxed again.

“You with me?” Donnie chuckled. It sounded like a mixture between a sob and a laugh, and Mikey nudged his cheek into his brother’s gentle hold, finally opening his eyes.

What a silly question. 

“Always,” Mikey smiled at him, warmer than Donnie deserved.

Chapter Text

“Is he ready?”

“Don’t!” Leonardo begged as he struggled against his bonds. There was blood on his tongue and gravel biting into his flesh. He didn’t care. All he cared about was in front of him.

“Yes,” Hypno replied reluctantly. 

“Then what are you waiting for?!” Sister Krang hissed. She stared at the youngest turtle like he was the last slice of pizza in the box. “Do it!”

Hypno lifted his huge hand and placed it on the kid’s forehead. For the past 3 days, he had him under his spell, preparing for this very moment. 

Ever so slightly, he tilted his head backward. “Sorry, kiddo.” He averted his gaze, unable to look at Little Orange. So skinny. So tired. So… He straightened his shoulders. It didn’t matter. 

“Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop!” Hypno repeated the words like the dirtiest of secrets. He had no right of knowing them. 

Behind him captured in a cage, Leo could hear the exact moment Raph’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces. His instincts leaped to comfort, but he pushed the urge aside. Later, he vowed. He’d deal with it later. Once they were back home. 

“Only you can save him now,” the magician whispered and gave his command.  

“Please, his body can’t take it!” 

Leonardo’s eyes widened in terror when his little brother stepped forward. Tears streamed over his round cheeks, however, his expression was one of grim determination.  

“MIKEY!!!” 

Again and again, Leo yanked at the tendrils tying him to the ground. He hadn’t been there last time, but Casey had told him… 

At the very edge of darkness, Mikey raised his arms, and a golden glow emanated from them. He looked straight ahead. His body trembled faintly, yet his hands remained steady, ready to move heaven and hell for his family. A spiral of flames shot up, burning the orange fabric of his hoodie along with his mask.

“Son, you have to snap out of it!” Splinter’s voice barely held any strength - a last desperate attempt to prevent the inevitable. 

Anger filled Leo as he watched the trapped rat hide his face, clutching a bleeding Donatello closer to his chest. This wasn’t over! Their father may have given up, but he wouldn’t! Failure was not an option, he thought, and the night ignited. 

Mikey screamed as hot iron pressed onto his skin, slowly melting down to the bone while liquid fire pulsed through his veins. He didn’t stop when his body cracked under the pressure. 

The pain on his face mirrored in Leo’s own eyes - the pain of losing a brother. Leo knew he wouldn’t quit. Never. Not when he was back there. Not as long as one was missing, not as long as they weren’t whole. He wouldn’t leave him behind. Never. He’d do the same. For any of them. 

“You’re killing him!” The slider sobbed hysterically, vision blurring at the sound of Mikey’s pitiful cries. 

“Stop it! Please stop!” 

It was hopeless. Mikey couldn’t see them. Couldn’t hear them. Too far away. The fissures on his hands raced higher and higher, over his elbow, up to his shoulders, and onto his plastron. He dug his finger deeper into reality preparing to rip it apart while his arms burned to cinder. 

“Leo,” Mikey said the word with such a desperate finality, it caused something inside the slider to snap.

Oh god, he was going to die.

Maybe it was his heartrendingly powerless cry of “Noooo!!!”. Maybe the villain spontaneously developed a conscience, or maybe he got cold feet. In the end, the ‘why’ was irrelevant when the hippopotamus charged. 

A swift chop to the back of the neck was all it took to knock the box turtle out, and Leonardo’s face fell into a sort of miserable relief as his precious little brother collapsed in the dirt, arms still aglow.

“You wretched little pest!”

A thick tentacle shot up from behind. With a furious blow, it sent the magician flying. 

“Come on, come on!” The creature towered over the unconscious teen. It squeezed its limbs around his throat, shaking him violently. “Get up! You’re not done yet!”

Nothing. 

A howl born of anger and frustration escaped from behind her sharp teeth. Like a whip her arms slammed down, lashing across Mikey’s face and oh so desperate to wake him up. 

“Open the portal! Open it!”  

The monster’s deadly rage grew with each stroke, but turtle’s body remained defiantly still. 

Before Leo could comprehend, multiple things happened at once. Hypno’s iron rings cut through the air as well as his bonds. The slider was free. To his left, something moved, and the familiar battle cry of his older sister blasted in his ears, accompanied by the righteous roar of a chainsaw paving its way through.   

Leo smiled. How he loved the murderous expression both humans wore. There would be hell to pay. April took the lead and jumped in head first. Her baseball bat smashed into the pink alien blob, peeling the disgusting creature right off their baby brother. 

“April O'Neil!!!” 
 
The Krang hissed at her, and the fight was on. 

Now that April and Casey had arrived, Leo barely paid attention to his surroundings. He focused solely on the figure laying on the floor. 

Half running, half crawling, Leo hurried over to Mikey’s side.

He leaned forward on his scraped knees, shuffling closer.

For several long moments, he didn’t know what to do. His brother looked so fragile as if the softest touch could break him. 

Screw it, Leonardo decided, before cradling him into his arms.

"Hey, Angelo, buddy?” He could feel the overwhelming heat seething beneath the skin and scales. “I'm here, can you hear me? I am right here," the slider babbled, too many words forcing their way from his mouth at once. “Please,” he begged. “We- Your family needs you.”

Mikey’s body stirred. 

Yes! 

Laughter bubbled inside Leo. Everything was going to be all right. “There you… are?”

Michelangelo opened his eyes and terror gripped Leo’s heart at the orange light still shining in them. 

Chapter Text

“Red, take care of your brothers! Lady Brain-Face is mine,” Splinter growled the second Future Boy hacked through the prison bars. He’d settle the score with the alien scum once and for all. And this time it would be permanent. 

Raphael grunted in agreement. With a grim understanding, he watched his father join April and Casey in battle. He turned around and glanced at his younger brother. The blood on Donnie’s temple had dried, but his limbs remained sluggish and uncoordinated.

“Here goes nothing,” Raph warned and slid a hand under Donatello’s arm, pulling him up. There was no way he would abandon a most likely concussed Donnie with the enemy this close by. Though every fiber of his being screamed to rush towards their remaining siblings - hurt and scared, he paced himself. Luckily, they weren’t far.  
  
“How are we doing?” Slurred the softshell as he leaned heavily on the elder. 

The green on the genius’s face looked a little too green for Raphael’s liking. “Fine! Everything is a-okay!!!” He channeled his inner Leo. “How many fingers am I holding?”

Donatello shoved the hand out of his face. “You are lying,” he accused. 

Busted. 

Raph rubbed the back of his neck. “To make you feel better!”

“Thank you!”

The snapper chuckled. Only Donnie could make gratitude sound like a declaration of war. 

“Almost there, buddy,” he encouraged and pushed forward, urging him to move in the hope to build up some momentum.

“Raph?” Leo hiccuped. 

His frightened voice made Raphael’s heart ache and his steps speed up.

“Right here, bro. Just a second.” 

Raph let out a harsh breath, finally being able to put his hand on Leo’s trembling shell. He looked down and cursed. How he wished he hadn’t. 

Nestled on the slider’s lap sat their youngest. 

“Mike?”

Dread pooled in Raphael’s stomach. His little brother stared right through him, his expression empty, eyes flooded with gold, burning as bright as a dying star.  

“I… he isn’t responding.”

“Hey, Mikey? Can you look at me? Mikey?” Raph cooed gently.

Mikey didn’t even blink. 

Why wasn’t he responding? Why did his hands keep on glowing? Why - the snapper struggled to process what was going on. 

“We need to get him back to the lair,” Donatello interrupted as he went over the data from his freshly performed scan. 

When did he-

“His vitals… are not good.”

“Portal?” Leo asked, relieved to have something to distract himself with. His hands itched for his odachi. 

Raph nodded.

“I don’t know.” Uncertainty never suited Donnie. “Mixing mystic energies might be not such a great idea in his current state.”

“Let’s take the turtle tank,” Raph hurried to suggest.

Oh so carefully, he picked his baby brother up and winced. Mikey felt almost weightless in his arms. And then, because he had to try, Raph chirped. Low and tender it vibrated in his chest. 

Leo’s and Donnie’s heads snapped around at the call. It’d been so thoroughly integrated into their souls, it was impossible for them not to answer.

Mikey didn’t move a muscle.

“Draxum might be able to help,” Leo conceded a heartbeat later. 

No one objected.

Chapter Text

“Why don’t you, I don’t know, bind his Ninpō?” April threw her hands up in the air. They were running out of ideas. 

In the glaring light of the medbay, the girl appeared much younger than usual. 

“Don’t be ridiculous child.” Draxum rolled his eyes. “You just don’t amputate the heart. And even if such feat was possible, in the end, it would only marginally delay his fate.”

Leonardo’s tongue clicked briefly. 

The scientist ignored the sound. “Besides, you can’t just ‘bind’ the parts of your brother you don’t like,” he continued not risking to look the slider in the eye. 

“Blah, blah, blah, we already learned the lesson in season 1,” Donatello dismissed the sheep’s moral objections. Who was he to preach to them anyway? 

“I am sorry,” Draxum said, and he meant it. “There is nothing I can do.” 

“Explain,” Leonardo demanded.

The Yokai sighed. It was only fair, he supposed. After all, the other had played exposition monkey for him earlier.

“Right now, Michelangelo’s mystic energy is like a flamethrower, when all it’s supposed to be is a candle.”

“That would explain his crazy readings,” Donnie muttered as he entered the new data into a file on his wrist computer. Their baby brother tended to butt heads with the laws of physics on a regular basis, so he kept track. 

“What are you trying to say?” Raphael inquired, his tone the perfect reflection of their growing agitation. 

A long pause followed. 

“Your brother is dying.”

Donatello's claws tensed and scraped his touchpad, sending chaotic lines of text flying across the screen. 

“Liar!” 

Leo's voice cut through the screaming white noise pulsating through his skull.

“Nardo, no!” Donnie yelled out, Raph a beat behind him. 

Dutiful, the elder caught the slider by the back of his shell as he launched himself at their beloved creator. 

“He’s here to help,” Donatello reminded.

“Well, he’s doing a crappy job!” Leo accused.

“There has to be something you can do - anything.” Raphael turned towards Draxum. 

“Hmmm…” The Yokai wandered over to Michelangelo and the firestorm of raw orange energy that drained his life force invisible to the untrained eye. 

The head of his little box turtle pillowed on the rat’s lap, his pliancy a blessing in disguise. He frowned at the golden hundred-yard stare and the bright glow of his scars.

“Please.”

Draxum shuddered at the desperation in the mighty warrior’s voice. 

“I can’t save him, but perhaps there is a way to help him help himself.” 

“I swear to God, if you’re playing semantics I’ll let Leo end you.”

“But I can’t do it alone,” the Baron pondered before turning on his heels. “I have to call in a favor.”
 

Chapter Text

A portal snapped into existence and with despicable confidence, the Spider Lady entered their den. 

“Big Mama! What?” 

“Well, hello there, my Snuggle Muffin Beefcake,” she sing-songed, and Splinter adjusted the hold on his youngest son.
 
“An itsy bitsy birdiely doo told me you could use a hand.” Big Mama smiled without looking. “Or perhaps eight?” 

“We need her,” Draxum scorched the turtle's inevitable protests as he followed behind the purple-pinkish veil. An upcoming headache tingled already at the back of his skull. The Warring Warrior Scientist hated dealing with the woman. 

Big Mama chuckled. “So, where’s our - good grief!” 

The air buzzed with tension, and the crime boss ignored the hisses when she strode over to the family’s broken baby. 

Gently, she cupped his face. The little one did not stir. His expression blank. There was no hint of recognition.

“Oh my Turtly Poo, what have you done?” The Spider tutted. “Don’t worry, Big Mama is here to fix you.” 

“Then let’s begin.” The Baron crossed his arms over his chest. 

They placed Mikey in the center of the inner circle of runes the Goat Man had drawn on the floor of the living room. Like a puppet whose strings had been severed, he sat there. 

April, Leo, Donnie, and Raph took their seats around him. 

“Second time’s the charm, yeah?” teased Leo. He sounded hollow, but at least he tried. It had to count for something. 

“Not really.” Draxum put the hourglass in its designated spot to complete the spell. The symbols hummed approvingly and with that, they’d finished their preparations. 

“You will be transported into your brother’s brain,” he repeated the words from so long ago they might as well have come from another life. “You’ve done this before with the rat, but be careful no two minds are alike.”

Draxum’s eyes drifted to the child soldier at the edge of the room. A first aid kit rested in his hands. Their eyes met, and the boy clutched it tighter against his chest. So far, the use of Jones Jr.'s medical expertise had hardly been worth mentioning, and he hoped it would remain that way. Nonetheless, the infirmary was ready for the worst. Better safe than sorry. 

“Once inside, you must find Michelangelo. Only he can seal the mystic energy leaking out of his body,” the Baron continued. “Meanwhile, we will keep his powers in check.” 

Splinter flopped down onto a cushion close to the magic lines, cracking the bones of his old spine. 

“Don’t worry, my sons, we’ll buy you as much time as we can,” he assured and glanced at Big Mama. 

The Spider Woman purred compliant. 

“We don’t know what his mind is like, but in his current state it could be dangerous.”

“Pff, I bet he has nothing but Play-Doh between his ears,” April snorted. 

“Noise of agreement. It’s Angelo we’re talking about. How bad can it be?” 

“That sounds about right,” Raph said, a hesitant smile tugged on his lips at the thought of the fever dream laying ahead. Unhinged, wild, free - Mikey was a thousand little things all added up into one. His crazy, awesome little brother… 

“Only one way to find out.” The slider filled the silence reserved for him. He wasn’t so sure. 

“Good luck and don’t mess this up!” was all the warning Draxum gave before he slammed his hands down, activating the spell.

All around, light exploded.
 
Leo’s eyes shot open, glowing and sizzling as he beamed through the dark. 

It yanked and pulled at him like a bungee cord stretched far too thin. His soul was being sucked out? In? The world twisted and turned in a confusing whirlwind of colors and sounds. God, he was gonna throw up. From underneath his feet, the ground fell out, and fear gripped his throat as he toppled backward into nothing. His pulse picked up, breath ragged inside his chest while he struggled against a limbo of ambiguity. He was reduced to a helpless passenger in his own body. Panic threatened to overwhelm him. 

Leo. 

Raph’s Ninpo flared at the edge of his being. Sturdy and solid. April and Donnie were there as well. Right. He wasn’t alone. His family was with him. Leo fought the dizzying urge to pass out, and suddenly he was flying, his siblings right beside him. A high-octane rush of momentum and excitement swept through him, eliciting an involuntary laugh. Together they moved forward. Mikey was waiting. 

A grin spread across Leo’s face. He’d be lying if he wasn’t at least a tad curious about the wacky wonderland that lived rent-free in his bubbly brother’s brain. Mikey had once described in excruciatingly detailed a dream in which his ice cream kitten was stuck in a pizza tree. There was no telling what his lil’ Bro’s massive and freakishly powerful imagination could come up with. Unicorns skateboarding on rainbows, a puppy ballet, lazy rivers made out of peanut butter - you name it! Mikey’s mind was a bright and colorful playground drenched in pure orange. And although the severity of the situation was not lost on him, he couldn’t quell his excitement for the childlike wonders and vibrant fun his brother attracted as easily as a magnet. Yeah, he was ready to face anything that would be thrown at them! Come what may. 

What he wasn’t ready for was the white, frozen wasteland greeting them upon their arrival inside Mikey. There was nothing, no smell, no sound, no color or movement. Just an empty void where his baby brother should have been. 

Leo felt cold beyond cold.

“So… One thing’s for sure, we now have evidential proof that Magic Mike’s head is empty.”

“Annd there we go.”

“Leo! Not funny.”

“Tough crowd.” The slider shrugged. 

“Let’s get moving!”

They would find him. 

Chapter Text

Save for a few candles that served as focus objects, the room had been darkened. 

Big Mama admitted the ambiance was rather nice. It reminded her of the early days with her Huggypoo, the date nights they shared, minus the five teenagers with glowy eyes. 

“Concentrate!” Draxy growled when the white shine of the spell was gradually replaced by orange. 

Well, they couldn’t have that, could they? Her Prickly Petey wouldn’t be happy if anything happened to his precious turtley boos. 

She smirked and pushed back. 

Lil’ Orange’s mystic energy slowed. So far so good. With a little luck, they would be able to contain the small creature until the deed was done. 

Her eyes wandered to the flaring bright marks on his shoulders. Such a shame. So much potential flushed down the sewer. The spider licked her lips. What fools to waste a delicious treat like this. He would be perfect in her - 

A burst of flames shot up. Chains rattled through the air and the turtle-boy began to soar. 

“Urgh!” The leader of the Battle Nexus took in a sharp breath. What the? How?

Sizzling hot it gnawed at her spirit as raw power surged up in another vivid wave of light. 

They redoubled their efforts. If they didn’t watch out, the kids were not the only ones at risk to be swallowed up by the devastating force of their precious baby brother. 

Wisps of steam rose from his eyes before orange spread like wildfire.

Big Mama grunted. She struggled to keep her hands from trembling. Sweat clung to her skin, dripping down her neck. There was no telling if from the searing heat in the room or her own exhaustion. From the looks of it, Draxum wasn’t doing any better. It felt like pressing her fingers against a hot stove, but it was too late to back out now. Oh, her Fuzzy Cuddlelupagus owned her big time! They had to give it their all or else… 

It was like a drop in a bucket. 

Michelangelo’s arms lit up during their cruel game of tug-of-war. 

“For fucks sake,” Big Mama cussed. Impossible! The sheer amount of energy - the child was a ticking time bomb. “I mean, oh dear!”

A glow slid off his skin. The tiniest bubbles, acorn-sized, leaked out. One by one petite flickers of floating goo played over his knuckles before blending together into small droplets of light.

Ah, she should have known better. They were doomed from the beginning, the spider lady thought, as orange took over. They couldn’t hold out any longer.

Chapter Text

Days? Hours? Minutes? Donatello couldn’t tell how much time had passed. It felt like an eternity, like a heartbeat, like the buzz of energy called the present. In the endless white depth, waves and matter spiraled into a sense of distance and space without past or future. Only the ‘now’ filled the ether, a concept that slowly consumed him. The continuing sequences of his existence blurred together and events that once occurred in an irreversible succession became one. What was he doing? There were no directions. He should stop… searching? He didn’t know, didn’t remember what he was looking for, and yet the clock was ticking.

“Caramel~!?” 

Donnie blinked. 

Leo’s whines filled his ears and without missing a beat he retorted, “What’s sweet and sticky and crosses the desert?”

“You complete me!” His brother grinned. 

Donnie shook his head. The softshell would always be the joke to his punchline. After all, he was the funny one. Lightly, he flicked Leonardo on the forehead. Perhaps it was a good thing they didn’t split up like he’d suggested. Covering a wider area would have been beneficial, but well… his eyes trailed back. It was easy enough to lose track in this bleached-out world as it was. They were leaving no footprints. 

He took another step and collided with Raphael’s broad carapace. 

“Over there!” Raph jerked his head in the direction of… Mikey!

They found him! 

A rush of excitement filled them and they sprinted towards their missing brother. There was no stopping them at the sight of the box turtle. 

As soon as they reached him Raph’s large form hunched over their youngest in a protective embrace. The boy was hidden in his shell, but it was definitely him. He would recognize his baby brother anywhere. 

“Oh god, Mikey!” April chocked. 

Raph purred gently, rubbing over Mikey’s bright and brilliant patterns, the color a painful contrast to the vast abyss. He looked so displaced in this world.
 
The little box turtle didn’t react. A movement that would usually trigger Mikey to giggle and pop up was powerless now. 

“Hey little man, Raph got you.” He rocked them both gently. “You don’t hafta be scared. You can come out,” his brother coaxed on the verge of tears.

He turned to his siblings for help when Mikey didn’t emerge.

“It’s okay Angelo,” Donnie added, patting his back. He could feel the tremors beneath his fingers.

Leo grimaced. “You are safe.” The promise strangled by emotion. He lowered himself to his knees. With a reassuring churr, he nuzzled his beak against the unyielding plates of Mikey’s armor.

They became quiet, the only noises pained whimpers that resounded out of the shell in Raph's arms. 

“Everything is alright. You’re not alone,” April assured as the high-pitched sobs got louder. She placed a protective hand over his shell and shifted closer, completing the turtle pile. 

Gradually, their warms bled over, with Mikey in the middle. 

They collectively held their breaths when their little brother moved and a small voice answered.

“Leo?” Mikey sniffled. 

Slowly the young turtle resurfaced, head peeking out and his arms and legs curling around his big brother’s body.

He craned his neck. His wide, tear-ridden eyes skimmed over the returning colors of his family, blinking out of his hundred-yard stare. 

The world blew up in orange. 

A weighted-blanket pressure and endless warmth surrounded them with so much golden light that they couldn’t see their own limbs anymore. 

Chapter Text

An ocean roared between Leonardo’s ears. His thoughts felt muddy, his breathing shallow. Weird bubbles of orange goo hovered in the air. The glowy things were everywhere. They reminded him of the Lou Jitsu lava lamp his brothers got him for his 10th birthday - fiery, swirling orbs rising through the dark, merging together in a mesmerizing dance. 

He wasn’t 10 anymore, and the lamp had been broken last year - shredded along with their home. 

Instinctively, Leo lifted his arm to shield himself, but somehow it only burned brighter behind his eyes. 

He blinked and the light was gone.

For a fraction of time, the world stilled before a hollow darkness replaced the spark. 

Donnie’s sprinkler system went on. Thick blobs poured down. It felt like rain, like taking a warm shower, extinguishing the flames around him once and for all. 

A heartbeat later and it stopped. 

Confusion wailed inside him. 

That’s what they wanted, right? The fire was out. 

Leonardo frowned. 

What fire? 

He felt dizzy - more drained than ever. 

His eyes adjusted to the lack of light, while the wet, sticky liquid on his scales grew cold. 

His brows furrowed deeper in concentration.

He looked down. 
 
“What…?”

Inc covered his fingers, his hand, his arm -

“Master Leonardo!” 

His head shot up at the panicked cry. 

Memories came crashing down. His glassy eyes swept the room and landed on the figure in their midst. Like a collapsed star, Mikey lay there. Motionless. 

Someone hit the light switch. Bile rose in his throat. Leonardo’s mind connected the dots. This wasn’t ink. No. He was covered in blood. His little brother’s blood. They all were. There was so much of it. It was everywhere. The whole room looked like a murder scene. Fuck. Mikey had been literally crumbling - turning into dust right in front of them. There were freaking pieces coming out!

Without a moment to spare he got to his feet. He ignored his protesting limbs and cloudy vision, couldn’t afford to stumble, not with Mikey on the ground, dead or worse. Leo pushed forward, wading through the scattered puddles around him. Each step, leaving a crimson footprint.

Chapter Text

Casey knelt over Mikey’s body - dressings and bandages forgotten as his fingers pressed against the pulse point on Michelangelo’s neck. The calm focus the boy from the future usually displayed was gone in the face of the stiff and icky skin beneath him. He swallowed and readjusted his grip. Quietly, he counted the seconds, yet felt nothing but his own thundering heartbeat. 

“Major blood vessels first!” Leonardo redirected his attention. 

He steeled himself and nodded.

“This one’s bad. Press here.”

His hands moved automatically. 

“Raph, the stretcher!” Leonardo demanded, not hesitating to yell out orders as he quickly assessed the situation. 

“His plastron is cracked. We need a read on his vitals.” 

Without a word, Donnie stepped up while April darted toward the medbay. 

Raphael bent down to scoop Michelangelo into his arms, gently as he could.

Casey followed. It was second nature, a normal born in chaos. 

They placed the little turtle on the infirmary bed whilst Casey kept on putting pressure on his wrist. Fading scars had opened up into weeping cuts and broken flesh.

“Master Leonardo…” Tears swirled in his eyes. His skin was so cold.
 
“Not now!” Leo looked at him with a surprisingly hard-to-read expression.

Casey watched him stitch his brother back together, hands as steady as he remembered. 

The smell of reheated glue filled his nose. Blood bags and IV fluids dangled from the stand. Casey’s teeth dug into his lower lip. The sight of the oxygen mask on the pale face did little to quell the dread.

“Please.” His voice was high with anxiety. “Sensei, he isn’t -”

“ENOUGH!”

Casey jerked back. Leonardo never raised his voice at him. At least not like this. It felt like a full-body punch. 

“Hey, um, I…” Raphael was at a loss of what to do. “Could you perhaps…” His fingers were visible shaking as he fiddled with the peelable paper of the electrodes. “It would be best…” Donatello took them out of his hand, tearing the flimsy paper off the backside. “I need you to check on Pops, can you do that for me?” He finally asked. 

Casey took a few shallow breaths. “Sure.” 

.
.
.

The radiating heat inside the room had cooled down. 

“How… How is my son?” Splinter sounded weak and tired, but somehow found the strength to rip through the silence.

All eyes were on him, and the knot inside Casey’s stomach expended up to his chest. His throat tightened. He swallowed at the familiarity of it all. 

“I…” His eyes burned. There was red on the edge of his vision, twisting and churning. 

His mouth moved. He tried to find the right words. There were none. His jaw clenched so tight he could taste the copper. Why? 

He couldn’t look at any of them. His gaze was glued to his feet. He’d done this before. A thousand times. He could do it again. It might take a couple of tries, but he would come through for them. It was the least he could do. He clenched his fists to stop them from shaking, however, nothing could stop the tears rolling down his face. Pathetic. 

“He isn’t breathing.”

***

Donnie found Leo sitting on the ground beside Mikey’s sickbed. His body slumped, his head pressed against the metal frame. 

It was strange. Donatello came to associate his twin with a sly grin and broad hand gestures, but maybe that’s what the constant sound of the stretched beep did to you. 

Without a word, he slid down next to him. 

For a long time, neither of them said anything. Leo’s eyes didn’t stray from the monitor looming dizzyingly high above.

“You should get some rest,” Donnie spoke like the true hypocrite he was. 

Leo kept quiet.

“Did you know a turtle’s heart can beat up to five days after it died?” He ultimately asked.

Donatello pulled back his shoulders and sat up straight. Right. He’d read the paper too. Published in 1957, by a rather questionable journal called ‘The American Biology Teacher’. Donnie didn’t note that the test subject had been an Alligator Snapping Turtle, captured and decapitated, her organs stored in a rusty old fridge.

“That’s reassuring,” he lied voice raw and dry. 

Together they sat there for another 7 minutes and 42 seconds before the flat line on the screen was interrupted by a single spike. 

Chapter Text

It was a quiet night. Or rather it was supposed to be a quiet night, a simple topside supply run, and pizza. Nothing more. Well, things tended to escalate quickly when the Mad Dogz were loose. Tonight was no exception. 

“What do we have over hyaaa~” Donatello adjusted his goggles, zooming in as he leaned over the rooftops’ edge.

Mikey peeked up from behind, curious about what managed to get his brother’s attention.

Down at the street and across the entrance of the ‘Run of the Mill Pizza’ a brawl had broken out. Ten Foot Clan members against one mysterious dark hooded figure. 

Mikey grinned, providing Donatello with just enough time to roll his eyes, before he jumped from the multi-story building to join the fight, because of course he did.

The softshell followed with a curse on his lips. Hot on their heels, he could hear Raph doing the same. 

At the end of the day they made quick work of the thugs and to be honest it was a fairly unremarkable encounter. That was until the stranger turned around. 

“Not another one!” Donatello shrieked while he jabbed his finger in the guy's direction. He hadn't gasped, squawked, or made any other embarrassing noises in months - there was one exception involving Mikey, Nardo, and a giant octopus, but he was practicing selective amnesia - however, given their current situation, this seemed to be an appropriate response. At least it was the only one his brain could come up with as it short-circuited.

“Sensei?” Casey’s breathless voice echoed in the ally. 

Perfect. As if the traumatized boy from the future hadn’t had enough fun for an entire lifetime, the turtle in purple thought. Between shock and confusion, he hadn’t noticed Leonardo’s return or how the pile of pizza boxes landed on the ground. But Leo’s face said it all. If things went south those two wouldn’t be much help. They were compromised by their emotions. 

“Eeeeuboy…”

Casey was about to fling himself at the giant mutant before Leonardo had the surprising foresight to stop him. 

“Case wait!” He put his arm out, blocking the teen from potential harm. “This could be a trap! A clone, zombie, robot, alternate EVIL universe…” Leo went down the whole list, and while future-boy paused in his movements, his eyes were speaking a different story.

“Don-Tron, back me up here?!” 

“Not a robot,” Donnie replied without missing a beat, his grip tight around his Tech-Bō. It was hard for him to decipher the mood of those around him on an average day, but this was highly advanced stuff. Begrudgingly, Donatello had to admit it was a bit above him. Judging by context clues there were lots of possibilities of how this could end and he wasn’t sure -

“A future-brother!!!” Mikey squealed in delight. “Does that make you triplets?” 
 
Ah. Donatello relaxed. So this was the path they were taking.

“Nope. Totally not,” Leo vetoed, hastily trying to interrupt Mikey’s train of thought before it could spiral any further. “That can’t be me. Look at him! How could this-” He pointed at his own glorious face - eyes theatrically big as he blinked up through his long lashes. “Become, well, that?” The slider made a displeased sound. “So many wrinkles. So OLD,” he said, emphasizing to hopefully get his point across. 

“I am telling you!” Casey stood his ground against Leonardo and well wasn’t that a first.

His brother just scoffed.

“I could run some tests in my lab,” Donatello offered at the stalemate of dubious facts. 

“Hello~? Stranger-Danger!!! We are not bringing el creepo here home. You remember what happened last time?”

“Touché.” Donatello winced. Yeah, that hadn’t been pretty. He hurried to repress another memory.

“Enough!” Raph’s no-nonsense voice cut through their bickering, and their mouths snapped shut. They were wasting precious time. 

The biggest turtle brother had been quiet so far. He must have felt the weight of the situation as well, carefully navigating through the pros and cons of compromising his family's safety. 

“The pizza is getting cold!”

Right. He was a dum-dum too. 

“Mikey!” 

Enthusiastically, the youngest nodded, understanding immediately what his big bro had in mind. He smiled from ear to ear, bright and cheerful, before he retreated into his shell. 

“Plan double B!”

“Raph, what? No!” 

Too late. The snapper gave the order for the wildfire to be set. 

“Brother-BALL!!!”

In one wide motion, he threw the mystic warrior at the turtle man. Like a football, he flew through the air, and without thinking twice Leonardo’s future version caught him. Duh. 

Mikey plopped out of his shell, hanging limply in mid-air. The smirk on his face was still intact, but now a spark of mischievous shimmered behind his eyes as well. Free and bold it promised trouble of the best kind. In a bug-like motion, the tiny orange gremlin wiggled out of the grip and crawled all over the grown mutant. 

“This is ridiculous,” Leo complained behind him.

Mikey ignored his brother’s huffs of disapproval, and continued his investigation, taking everything in. As soon as his curiosity was satisfied, he effortlessly somersaulted off the large carapace and right in front of the visitor from a different world. Stretching his arms out, his small hands reached up, motioning to come closer. 

Future Leonardo complied, not sure why he was so nervous all of a sudden.

Their eyes met, and the infinite melancholy swimming within them felt like rain on Mikey’s heart. He tilted his head. His shaky fingers carefully cupped Leonardo’s face, redirecting his thousand-yard stare away from future and past, and anchoring him in the now. In slow soothing circles, he rubbed his thumbs beneath the slider’s eyes, tracing the edges of his crescent marks. A golden spark at the beginning of the end. 

Mikey’s gaze never strayed. Leonardo didn’t know what it was that he was looking for in his brother’s reflection or how he did it. He was the spunk, the razzmatazz, a light so bright it was sometimes blinding, but at moments like this, when he stilled, the whole world was holding its breath. A part of him feared that it wasn’t there anymore. The ghost of what he used to be. Unfamiliar. Lost. Too far gone. He knew. He had to. 

The box turtle’s expression softened as Leonardo let his cheeks get smooched and squished by his sea-green hands. It was for dramatics only, he had long found what he’d been searching for. 
 
“Leo!” Mikey declared with a happy chirp, his smile warm and kind. Like always. 

Leonardo let out a wet sob before wrapping his arms around him, engulfing him in a gigantic bone-crushing hug and vowing to never let go. 
 
There was no hesitation when his younger brother returned it just in kind. He scooted closer to throw his arms around Leonardo’s neck, holding him tight. One hand eased around his shell to keep him from trembling and with a reassuring churr he nuzzled against his head. 

The lonely drifter laughed - short and wheezy. Suddenly, he found himself in the middle of a group hug as Raph and Casey joined in. 

“Dangit! For the record: I still don’t trust him, and I hereby officially reserve me an ‘I-told-you-so’ when this inevitably blows up in our faces.”

Chapter Text

“You worthless piece of shit!” 

Again and again, his fists collided with his face. They were soaked in blood. Leo didn’t care. Wet and sticky it dripped down his fingertips, painting the white tiles red. There was a joke there somewhere, he was sure. Under any other circumstances, he wouldn’t hesitate to laugh about his current situation. Not right now. Right now he was seething with pure rage.

“Sacrifice my ass!”

Like a hurricane, it roared between his ears. Blindly, he lunged for another swing. There was satisfaction when he felt bone shatter beneath his knuckles. However, the other wasn’t moving, wasn’t defending himself, wasn’t fighting back. He just took it. His expressionless mask remained blank, devoid of any emotion. It only added fuel to the fire, and Leo’s blood was already boiling. He hated himself. 

“He’ll do anything you ask! And you -” He rocketed forward, knocking the wind out of the both of them as they crashed into a nearby shelf. The metallic thud of scalpels, retractors, and other surgical instruments clattering to the ground, filled the room. 

“How could you?!?”

His future self - Leonardo - kept quiet. 

Something inside the younger turtle snapped. His eyes burned. All he wanted was to hurt, make him pay, inflict as much pain as possible. He was a master at the art. 

“You told my brother to kill himself! You told him. This… you…” Leo’s body wouldn’t stop shaking. “Mikey… It was you. Under your order. You killed Mikey.” He couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. “You killed our baby brother!” The hot tears at the brim of his eyes threatened to spill. “And for what?” Leo was panting hard, his vision blurry. “So you and your boy-toy could escape? Live happily ever after?”

Every word pierced through his fractured heart. Leonardo still refused to look at him and suddenly all Leo felt was the cold creeping through his veins. His eyes flickered to his future self’s sword. He should have never asked. Why had he wanted to know? But it was the truth. Wasn’t it? That’s what he did.

“I-”

“Leo!” 

The door swung open as his brothers burst into the room.

“Bro, what’s going on?” 

However, Leo wasn’t done. The other was still breathing. Like an animal, he pounced at the monster he would never become. 

“Nardo, calm down,” Donnie tried his best but his twin wasn’t listening. 

“Omigosh! Leo, stop hitting yourself,” Mikey shrieked. “Raph, do something!!!”

In a matter of seconds, his brother’s strong arms wrapped around him, and he was carefully plucked off the larger turtle. 

“Let go of me!” He shouted, struggling to break free. 

“You’re alright?” The box turtle rushed to Leonardo’s side. He was about to put his hand on the traitor’s shoulder. 

A feral hiss ripped itself from Leo’s throat. “NO!” He bellowed. 

Mikey flinched away, instantly wanting to retreat into his shell. 

“You don’t get to touch him,” his brother spat. “You don’t deserve to.”

“Leo?” Sorrow and fear tinged the youngest Hamato’s voice. He sounded so very small. 

Guilt swapped over Leo mixed with the innate need to comfort. Worrying everyone was the last thing he wanted. “I… He… I am not allowing it.” His decision was final. “Never again.” 

Leo’s eyes fell on Raph and Donnie, who exchanged a weary glance over his head. At least it was their choice. At least he wasn’t… but Mikey - He specifically told him. He sent him to his death. Leo shook his head, starting to crack beneath the pressure. “It’s not fair,” he whispered broken. “Why are you here, nearly unscathed, and they…” 

“Dee?” Raph asked. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Donatello waved him off, already reaching for the first aid kit on the ground. “I’ll take care of it. Just get him out.” He frowned. Future Leonardo would need stitches.

The snapper's shoulders relaxed yet his grip remained firm. He turned, ready to leave the med-bay, as Leo wriggled again.

“Miguel! Please!” He whined and failed his limbs in Raph’s hold. Leo needed - 

“Hey, hey. I am here. I am safe.” 

Mikey put his hand over Leo’s. His touch was gentle, a steady beating pulse. He was alive. 

“How about a movie?”

***

The air smelled like popcorn. 

Leo didn’t remember who’d popped in the DVD and who’d washed the blood from his bruised knuckles. Soothing and silent, he floated between comfy clouds of fluffy pillows and blankets, cushioning him from the rest of the world. For one last time, Lou Jitsu winked at the camera before the credits rolled. The weight in his lap shifted and the slider looked down. A smile tugged at his lips. Mikey. His little brother. The younger one snuggled deeper into his lap. Warm, it shot through his head and he purred, while Raph’s soft snores tickled the back of his neck. He relaxed further, leaning against his big brother’s plastron. Safe. 

Warm and safe. Leo clung to the feeling, never wanting to let go as he slowly drifted off. 

“What was it Leonardo said to you?” 

He winced. Leo could lie to the little box turtle, tell him he didn’t want to talk about it, that he wasn’t ready, that he was tired - postpone the conversation. With a bit of luck, Mikey might even forget. 

“He told me how you died.” He desperately tried to cover the rising sense of dread in his gut.

“Oh,” Mikey replied and quieter, barely above a whisper, “How?”

His brother wasn’t cruel by nature, but he might as well have twisted a knife into his heart. 

Leo took a deep breath.

.
.
.
 
“I am sorry,” he finished. The wet sheen over his eyes was back and Mikey hugged him closer on instinct. 

For a long time, nobody said anything. 

Absentmindedly, Mikey played with Leo’s fingers. He had taken his hand when the words became too heavy, lacing them together. They matched. His little brother still wore bandages of his own, from when he tore the fabric of time and space apart for Leo. The cracks on his skin a permanent reminder that the universe had ripped right back into him. 
 
“Future-Me is super rad.” He looked up at Leo in all earnest as he proclaimed, “I am going to be a genius!”

What the heck? The slider covered his mouth with his hand to stifle a laugh. Mikey? A genius? 
 
“To pull it off - getting the wheres and whens right - I had to be!” 

Leo frowned. “What are you trying to say Hermanito?”
 
Exaggerated Mikey rolled his eyes. Sometimes Leo could be rather dense. “That this was a team effort,” he continued, not giving Leo the chance to interrupt. “The fallback plan nobody wanted. It took two dead brothers to even consider.”

Leo blinked. 

“Don’t be so hard on yourselves.” The slightest hint of Doctor Delicate Touch shone through his demeanor before he blew out his cheeks in the cutest way possible. 

“Fine,” Leo sighed defeated. “Just promise me to leave the portaling to the pros from now on.”

“Gladly. As long as you got it, you shall be the only portal turtle of the family,” Mikey smirked. “Still, opening a time gate, fixing the past. It’s super cool.”

Leo snorted. “You can’t even fix your own shoelaces,” he joked weakly.

Mikey counted it as a win. 

“To be fair, we don’t wear shoes that often,” he giggled and Leo laughed out loud. 

The slider cuddled up closer, eternally grateful for his little brother. Who knows maybe he was a genius? Leo himself was yet to give in and attend one of Doctor Feelings’ seminars, but Mikey’s sneaky and somehow even manages to pack a therapy session into a game of Mario Kart. Most of the time Leo didn’t even realize what was happening until he pauses an hour or so later and wonders why he feels a little lighter than before.

And when the next day future Leonardo shifted from one foot to the other, trying to keep his distance, Mikey wouldn’t have any of it. He turned around towards Leo, put on his most obnoxious smile, and stuck out his tongue, before he finally inched forward, giving Leonardo an extra big hug to soothe tomorrow's pain. Leo wasn’t the boss of him. None of the Leos were.

Chapter Text

Raph happily bashed his action figures together. Commercials played in the background, mingling with the faint sounds of their father’s snoring.

“Stop it!” yelled Donnie.

“Make me!” Leo laughed and stuck out his tongue. 

Raph swore he could hear the impact as Leo struck a particular nerve. He sighed in the face of their middle-child nonsense. When will they ever learn? 

He cast one last longing look down. Would the Grand Commander ever be able to rescue Princess Cheech?  

Raph got up to put an end to their bickering before a fight broke out. It was important to de-escalate their depute in time, otherwise, he would have to explain yet again why the kitchen was on fire. Dad was not amused.

He walked past his baby brother. Mikey was coloring quietly, humming along to some tune inside his head. Why couldn’t they be more like him?