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It starts small, as these things always do.
They’re all exhausted after the whole Winters thing, especially after they have to haul the wrecked van out of the building before the police arrive. No one thinks twice about passing out and leaving the clean up for another day.
Leo wakes up in an unfamiliar room. It takes him a handful of minutes to realize it’s his room. In the lair. In the sewers. At home. In New York City. He’s home.
Everyone is slow to get moving, trying to stretch out the aches and pains from a hard won victory. Mikey opens the same cupboard three times, each with growing confusion as if he expects something different to be there every time. The fourth time he opens the same cupboard, he scowls and nearly slams it shut, catching it at the last second.
“Where’s the friggin’ bowls?” He grouses, sounding more like Raph than himself.
“Uh, where they’ve always been?” Donnie points to the right cabinet, “In there.”
Mikey blinks, “Oh. Right. Yeah. Guess I’m still tired…”
At dinner, Leo finds himself starring at the food being presented, trying to figure out what it is.
He thinks he should know, but no matter how he wracks his brain, it just doesn’t look at all familiar. And yet his brothers are devouring it no problem.
“Hey Leo,” Mikey’s talking with his mouth full, clutching a half eaten wedge in one hand, “If you don’t wanna eat your share of pizza, can I have it?”
Pizza.
The word rings a bell and tips over the chain of dominoes in his head.
Leo snatches his own slice from the box with a huff, “Absolutely not.”
He finds Donnie in their training dojo, staring at his own b ō staff like he’s never seen the thing before in his life.
“Donatello?” Leo ventures closer, “You all right? Something up with your bō?”
“I…” Donnie’s brow scrunches the way it does when he’s trying to figure out a particularly vexing problem, “This...isn’t mine. Is it? Mine’s...it’s supposed to be made of titanium and…”
“Donnie…” Leo folds his hands over Donnie’s, searching his brother’s face, concern fluttering to stir anxiety in his heart, “Don, you carved this bō staff yourself. Just like you carve every staff you use. You made this with your own two hands.” He rubs a thumb against Donnie’s knuckles, “But...if you want something less traditional, I’m sure Sensei would be fine with it. Do you want to take a trip to the junk yard?”
“Um…” Donnie blinks, looking from Leo back down to his staff, “I...actually, s-sorry, Leo, I need to check something.”
He shoves the weapon into Leo’s hands and dashes out of the room. Leo watches him go, considers chasing after him. But Donnie doesn’t like them hovering over his shoulder when he’s working.
So Leo puts the bō staff away and draws his own swords to practice his katas .
“I think the tear in reality affected us,” Donatello says over breakfast and everyone looks up at him.
“Care to clarify, brainiac?” Raph grumbles into his toast. Leo elbows him and Raph makes a face.
Donnie shoves his barely touched plate away, “The portal that Winters opened, it was a hole in the universe. And it—think of it like a wound. You get a cut and it bleeds. The universe got cut and it bled on us .” He braces his elbows on the table, pressing his fists to his snout as he speaks, “There’s a residue of some kind left over from that portal being open and it’s stuck to us. Surely you’ve noticed something weird going on; one or more of us forgetting things, acting oddly, remembering details wrong.”
Leo remembers how Donnie had looked yesterday, how he’d questioned the bō in his hands. How Mikey had forgotten how the kitchen was organized. How Raph sometimes stops in the middle of what he’s doing like he’s forgotten why he’s doing it. How sometimes even Leo himself feels like something is...off.
“So what’s that mean? This universe blood is messing with our memories?” Mikey asks with worry on his face.
Donnie shakes his head, “It’s hard to say. We might experience shifts in reality or time acting out of sync. I think for sure it’s altering what we remember about our own reality. It’s like our own personal realities are shifting but only in our own minds. “
“And how long are we gonna have to deal with our heads goin’ topsy-turvey?” Raph is leaning forward with his arms crossed on the table, wearing a scowl to hide the unease Leo can see in the set of his shoulders.
“I...I’m sorry, I don’t know…” Donnie sighs, finally slumping back in his own seat, “Based on my readings, it seems like the intensity of the shifts are increasing, so they might last longer and have more impact. But I don’t know when this will stop. Or...if it even will…”
“Then we must be on guard,” Master Splinter says from the head of the table, “You have done well to notice something amiss, Donatello. We should stay close to one another and watch for any strange behaviors.”
“Mm,” Donnie nods, sitting up straighter now that there’s a plan in motion, “If you feel like something’s wrong or off, tell someone else immediately. We should keep track of what we’re experiencing and log it, see if there’s a traceable pattern that will allow us to know when and how these shifts are happening. Maybe I’ll even find a way to stop them!”
Raph abruptly stands up from the table, “I gotta call Casey. Him and April were both exposed to that hole too so they gotta be experiencing the same thing we are!”
“Good idea, Raph,” Leo gets to his feet as well, “Tell them they should stay here in the lair for a while until this gets sorted. I’m going to do a supply run so we have enough to hole up for a long time. Mikey, you’re with me. Don, finish your breakfast and then take a break. I can see the bags under your eyes, you were at this all night.”
Donnie sputters but ultimately pulls his plate back towards him and pokes at his breakfast.
“Be careful, my son,” Splinter reaches out and rests his hand on Leo’s arm, drawing his attention, “Do not forget to look after yourself as well.”
“I’ll be back soon,” Leo promises.
He walks at a steady pace through the sewers until they’re away from the lair. Then he races Mikey through the tunnels and into the fresh air of the surface.
Their lives become a tangle of confusion and false memories.
There is a day where Raph forgets himself entirely; does not know his name nor who his family is. He is lost and hides his fear behind the usual barricade of attitude and hostility.
April spends three days convinced she is the one who raised the turtles and that Splinter has never existed. It’s odd and jarring; she has always looked out for the brothers but has never been so maternal to them. She’s embarrassed and apologetic when her memories return to normal.
Michelangelo wakes them one morning with an anguished cry, the likes of which Leo has never heard from his brother before.
They all spill into the main atrium of the lair and Mikey staggers out of his bedroom, hugging himself , tears streaking down his face. He sags against the wall, raises his head, sees them, and looks even more devastated than before.
“Please…” His voice cracks, whimpers into a feeble plea, “I can’t…”
“Mikey,” Leo hurries over to prop Mikey up and is alarmed at how hard his brother is shaking, “Michelangelo, it’s okay, it’s okay, we’re right here. What’s wrong?”
“Dead—” Mikey gasps and wraps his arms around Leo as tightly as he can, tighter even than when Leo had finally come home, “You’re dead! I—all of you! That bitch Karai—and the Foot—”
“As you can see, we are very much alive,” Splinter says softly, coming to rest his hand on Mikey’s arm. Mikey drops to his knees, pulling Leo down with him, and presses his face into their father’s robes, “Shhhh, my son, it is all right. We are safe here. You are safe here.”
Leo clutches at Mikey, holding him as tightly as he can, and looks helplessly up at Donnie. The desperate desire for an answer must show all too clearly on his face because Donnie looks heartbroken. Instead of saying anything, he grabs Raph and drags him into the hug with Leo and their father.
Mikey spends a week with a reality in which his family is dead and he is the only one left alive.
“It’s getting worse…” Raph mutters hoarsely, scrubbing a hand over his face. He’s sitting at the kitchen table with Leo and Casey, nursing a cup of coffee even though he should be getting some sleep. But Leo’s not going to badger him about it; sleep has been difficult to come by for all of them since the shifts started ramping up.
“Man, if this is the cost of saving the world, then I dunno if I wanna do anymore saving...” Casey grimaces and takes a swig of lukewarm beer. Another thing Leo would normally protest, if only to save face. He knows Casey pulled it from the stash Raph has hidden in his bedroom, the one they all pick from when things are just That Bad.
If Leo didn’t have other things to worry about, he might have dipped into the stash himself.
It’s been a month and then some and no one is doing well. They’re exhausted and drained. Donnie’s running himself ragged trying to track everything. At this point, they’re just waiting for the residue to burn itself out, for everything to stop on its own.
Leo doesn’t know how much more of this he can take.
Something’s wrong and Leo knows it the second he wakes up. It settles on his shoulders like an ill-fitting skin, prickling uncomfortably against his sense . His shell itches, hackles raised with apprehension. Something woke him and Leo’s not sure what it was. Only that is was wrong.
Leo rolls out of bed and dons his gear with the silence of a ninja master. His reforged katana slide into the sheaths at his back with a whisper. Then he carefully, slowly eases his door open just enough to listen through the crack.
From below , he can hear scuffles and m uffled yelling. He frowns and peers around the door into the main atrium of the lair, just in time to catch a glimpse of a pair of green feet disappear into Donatello’s lab. The door to the lab slams shut.
Silence.
It takes a quick trek around the lair to confirm what Leo already fears; everyone’s missing from their rooms.
Mikey’s bedroom and Master Splinter’s room appear relatively normal, aside from the disturbed bedding and open doors. The temporary room Casey and April had been staying in is a little rumpled, blankets dragged to the floor and Casey’s sports bag tipped over, spilling some of its contents like someone’s tripped over it. Donnie’s bedroom is untouched, the bed still made.
Raph’s bedroom shows signs of a struggle.
One of his sai is embedded in the stone wall, the other discarded across the floor. The rug is scrunched up, his blankets tangled all around the room, and a whole shelf has been tipped over. Leo thinks that must be what woke him.
The only clue he has is the door to Donatello’s lab.
So he draws his swords and hops down to the lower levels. Something in his stomach is going all lumpy and cold and he tries very hard to ignore it.
“Whoever you are, you had better not have harmed my family!” He calls in warning, picking up speed as he charges towards the lab door. Even if it’s locked, Leo knows he has enough strength and bulk to plow through it.
He crashes into the door, wrenching it from its hinges, and tumbles into the lab, rolling with the fall so he’s back up on his feet in seconds.
And he freezes.
The cold thing in his stomach turns into shards of ice that freeze his lungs and seize his heart. His eyes see one thing but his brain refuses to compute it.
April, unconscious in a cage with her arms and legs bound. Casey beside her, with a welt on his temple, equally shackled.
Michelangelo, tied to a chair, head lolling in drowsy confusion, wires stuck all over him with sticky pads .
Raphael, wide awake but strapped down to a stretcher, furiously writhing as much as he can and shouting into the gag wedged into his mouth.
Splinter, nowhere in sight.
And Donatello, standing over Raph with a small saw inches from Raph’s plastron, the blade spinning and hungry.
“Don—” Leo chokes, eyes wide, unbelieving. His hands are numb where they clutch his swords.
Donnie sneers, snout curling to flash his teeth in a way Leo has never seen before in his life. It’s mean and bitter and full of disgust and hatred. The saw in his hand powers down but it’s a small relief.
“Well, well, well,” Donnie’s voice is so angry when he speaks, full of poison and toxic waste, “The prodigal son returns. Finally came home, huh? Is this what it took to get you back?” He gestures at the room, at his captives, “You think there’s a threat to everyone else and you come running back. But when I called…”
“Donnie, what are you doing!?” Leo gasps and takes a step forward. Quick as a flash, Donnie’s pressing the teeth of the tiny saw to Raph’s neck and Leo freezes. So does Raph, his eyes bugging out as he stares up at Donnie.
“What am I doing?” Donnie echoes and gives a twisted, bitter laugh, “God, Leo, I don’t know? What am I doing? Maybe I’m doing what you couldn’t—what you wouldn’t—do!”
“Hurting our family—!?”
“Making us better!” Donnie snarls and Raph flinches when the saw digs into his neck, “You never came home! You left! And then you didn’t come back! And guess who Master Splinter put in charge? Me!”
“Donnie, I didn’t—”
“I didn’t want this! But you were gone and then there were monsters—” Donnie sucks in a deep breath and glares at Leo. It’s a dark look, full of fury, a look Leo’s only seen on the faces of their enemies. It turns his stomach to see it reflected on his brother,
“I waited, Leo. I waited four fucking years for you to come back. But you didn’t and we almost died because you didn’t. So now I’m in charge. And I’m going to make us better and stronger than you ever could.”
Leo shakes his head in disbelief , trying to find an opening. He’s realized what’s happening; another shift, another bad one that’s twisted poor, honest, heartfelt Donatello against his family. Are they all doomed to experience something like this? Leo feels sick remembering the nearly four days he’d spent thinking he was aligned with the Foot Clan and that the others had kidnapped him to their lair. He’d been violent and uncontrollable, trying to escape, and they’d had to tie him down until the shift had passed. He’d said and done awful things to them all during that time. And though they’ve all shaken off his apologies, told him it wasn’t his fault, it still weighs in Leo’s heart.
“Don’t do this, Donnie…” Leo murmurs, trying, reaching for his brother before things go downhill.
Don’t do this, Raph.
“I don’t take orders from you, Leonardo,” Donnie hisses.
I’m done takin’ orders.
They’re in a stalemate, neither of them willing to move.
“Muh…” Mikey blinks slowly, trying to lift his head, his voice rusty with sleep, “Don…? Was’ happenin’…?”
Donnie’s gaze flickers away from Leo for a second and that’s all Leo needs.
He’s across the room in a flash, knocking the saw away from Raph’s neck and shouldering Donnie backwards. Donnie lets out a furious, animal sound and swings the saw at Leo instead. Leo blocks the blow and stomps his foot into the power chord, yanking the tool out of Donnie’s hand, and then kicking Donnie again to make him stumble backwards.
“That’s enough, Donnie, you need to stop this!”
“You just hate being wrong!” Donnie starts grabbing tools from his work table and hurling them at Leo with a ferocious intent. His eyes are blazing, a snarl twisting his features, more rage in him than Leo has ever seen before, even in Raph.
Leo knocks the tools aside, pressing closer. Donnie keeps backing up until he’s at the end of the workbench. When his hand hits empty air, an angry terror flashes across his face. Then he charges at Leo with bare fists.
Leo doesn’t even need to think about his next move.
He drops his swords to the floor and leaps forward to intercept Donnie. He wraps his arms around his brother and presses close to him, holding him tightly.
“I’m sorry,” His voice is hoarse and cracking, “I’m so, so sorry I wasn’t here for you Donnie. I...I was so busy trying to find myself, trying to be a better leader, that I forgot where I was really needed.” His eyes burn and he squeezes them shut, his snout in Donnie’s shoulder, fingers catching on the familiar shape of his shell, “I thought staying away was the answer...but...but I was wrong…”
“You abandoned us,” Donnie’s voice trembles around the hissed accusation, “You left.”
“I know, and I’m sorry,” Leo repeats but he doesn’t feel like he’s said it enough. He never does, “But I knew...Don, you know I came back because of you guys, right? Because it hurt being away from you for so long.”
“...I hate you.”
“Okay,” Leo’s heart hurts and he has to force his words out past the iron spike in his throat, “Okay, that’s—that’s okay. You can hate me. But—but Don, you can’t...you can’t do this. Not this. Not to our family.”
“I’m just—”
“Look at what you’re doing, Don,” Leo implores, still holding Donnie in a hug, afraid that if he lets go then it will all slip away again, “Really, really look.”
Silence for a long moment.
And then Donnie lets out a broken sob. He clutches at Leo, his legs shaking, and Leo eases them down to the floor, holding his brother and rocking him gently. Donnie shatters, collapsing into babbling apologies and pleas and gasping for air between his cries.
Leo just keeps holding on and tries to assure him that everything will be okay.
Master Splinter is freed from the closet where he’d been bound in more ropes and chains than Leo had possibly thought were in the lair.
The others are released from their bindings and any injuries are quietly tended to. Donnie is barred from his lab. But he seems to want to avoid it anyway.
The next several days are difficult.
Casey is pissed that Donnie tried to experiment on them and gives Don a hard time until April reminds him of the shift where Casey was convinced he was a cop. Casey shuts his mouth.
Donnie is skittish and snappish, lurking around the shadier corners of the lair and hiding in his room. He lashes out as easily as Raph does, only remembering himself later and mumbling out apologies. He staggers every time he sees Leo and scrambles out of the room before Leo can try to talk to him. Mikey either doesn’t remember what was happening, or has chosen to ignore it, because he keeps up a smile and acts like nothing’s different.
Leo passes Splinter’s room at one point and catches the tail end of their father apologizing to Donatello for putting such a burden on him. Leo runs back to his room and sits on his bed until his stomach can stop churning.
He’s still sitting there when Donnie comes in.
They stare at each other. Donnie looks startled to find Leo there at all. Then he blinks, swallows, and crosses the room to tentatively sit down on the bed beside Leo. His hands are shaking when he laces his fingers in his lap. Leo stares at the floor and doesn’t say anything.
Donnie clears his throat, “I’m still mad at you. I still...hate you. For leaving and not coming back.”
“That’s fair,” Leo says quietly, “Pretty sure Raph feels the same way.”
“Raph’s feelings are just hurt,” Donnie replies, an edge of that chilling bitterness creeping into his voice again, “He doesn’t—” He pauses, takes a deep breath, and starts again, “I called you. I wrote you letters. I tried so hard to get in contact with you.”
“...I’m sorry,” Leo whispers and wonders if his Donatello did the same thing, “I never got any of it.”
“So why did you come back now? We needed you. I didn’t want to be in charge, I never wanted to be leader! I don’t—Leo, I can’t—”
“Hey,” Leo grabs Donnie’s hands and then quickly lets them go when Donnie jerks back, “Sorry. Just...I didn’t know that Master Splinter put you in charge. I know it’s not your forte. But, Donnie, for what it’s worth? I think you did the best you could.”
Donnie scoffs, looking away and sniffing wetly, “My best wasn’t good enough."
Leo’s heart sinks to his stomach and burns in the ache of regret,
“Neither was mine.”
When the shift fades from his mind, Donnie is mortified.
He goes pale and hides from them for several hours. It’s Mikey who manages to weasel Donnie out of his hiding spot by reminding him that the shifts have made them all do dumb things. Leo doesn’t know what magic words he’s said to get Donnie to rejoin them again, but that’s Mikey’s thing.
They can all fight, sure.
But Mikey’s got a smile and a way with words. Donnie’s got his tech and his wits. Raph’s got a fire that never goes out and the strength to back it.
And Leo?
Well, Leo’s got them.
And what else could he needs besides that.