Chapter Text
At least he was still alive. Small comfort to Raphael when it had been his brother holding sword, dressed in the black of a Foot regular.
The cell was small, lit by a bare, buzzing bulb overhead. Raphael sat on the floor, shoulders slumped, fists clenched by. Every part of him ached…the gash along his plastron, the bruises all over his legs, the throbbing pulse at his temple from the blow from the sword hilt that had taken him down.
The gag in his mouth, thick leather locked behind his head, made his jaw throb, and no matter how he twisted his neck or yanked at the binding, it wouldn’t budge.
He wanted to put his fist through the walls, but his knuckles were already bloodied.
The iron bars of the cell’s front wall were thick and cold, scarred with scratches and dents. Beyond them, the hallway stretched into darkness. Keys hung from a peg on the far wall, glinting in the light, but without his gear—not even his belt or mask—escape was impossible.
Leo holding the blade
Leonardo, cold and unflinching, pressing the flat of his sword against Raphael's throat, threatening running the edge across his skin. The past had flickered between them so briefly--Splinter’s condemnation, the confused shouting in the dojo.
He squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to remember.
Then, a voice—quiet, curious.
“They said your name is Raphael.”
His heart skipped a beat and he looked up. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his older brother watched him intently.
A black hood framed Leonardo's face half in shadow. His hands, wrapped tightly in black athletic tape, idly flipped a shuriken between his fingers.
A short black cloak hung from his shoulders, frayed at the edges, moving faintly with the stir of air. A katana rested at his hip in a simple leather sheathe on the belt strapped across his waist. His legs were wrapped at the ankles and lower thighs in black tape, with a small Foot sigil at the thigh like a stamp.
Raphael swallowed hard, his gag pulling tight against his jaw. He made a muffled sound, motioning at the gag. His eyes locked with Leonardo’s, demanding he come closer.
Leonardo’s lips curved into a sad smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“I wish I could,” he said, his voice soft. “I heard your voice when I caught you… when you yelled.”
His gaze swept down Raphael’s body slowly, lingering for just a moment too long before rising back to meet his gaze.
“It was… I don’t know. It just drew me to you.”
Raphael shuddered. His brother had looked at him before—with anger, with respect, even with affection—but never like this. Never with this quiet hunger.
He grunted, jabbing a finger at Leonardo and dragging it across his throat, then pointing back at himself. Was this what it had come to? Execution? His own brother delivering the final blow? His throat tightened, but he refused to look away.
Leonardo tilted his head, the hood shifting slightly to reveal more of his fac. His eyeridge lifted.
“You’re going to kill me?” he asked, amused.
Raphael shook his head fiercely, frustration making his shoulders tense as he spun his finger in the air once. The universal gesture for keep going.
“Oh,” Leonardo said, understanding now. “Am I going to kill you?”
Raphael nodded, his head bowing slightly as if his anger took a physical effort.
Leonardo didn’t answer right away, watching him. Studying him. Smiling at what he saw.
“You…” Leonardo began, his voice light, “you’re my prize. My reward.” He shifted, standing upright now. “My master has generously allowed me to keep you as long as I want.”
Raphael's eyes widened, the full weight of what Leonardo was saying sinking into him. He shook his head, smacking his hand against the wall.
Leonardo’s smile didn’t falter. If anything, he grew far more interested.
“I know it’s also to keep me in line,” he admitted, glancing to the side as if speaking to himself. “Something my master can hold over me. That’s fine. I serve him loyally.”
Raphael’s breath hitched, his hands trembling. This couldn't be his brother. Not anymore. The face was the same, the voice familiar, but the soul behind them…
What had happened? After his brother fled into the darkness, driven away by their father?
Leonardo stepped closer, stopping just shy of the bars, close enough that Raphael could see the scars crisscrossing his exposed skin, the pale streaks of new wounds under the hood, edging out from under the wraps around his arms and legs.
Raphael jabbed his fingers toward Leonardo, then at his own head, his frustration obvious. He tried pulling at the gag again, shaking his head violently trying to wrestle it off. The leather strips just bit harder into his skin.
Leonardo closed his hands around the bars, watching intently, trying to interpret the gestures.
“Am I…crazy?” he guessed.
He shifted slightly, the dark cloak draping over his frame rustling faintly. When Raphael shot him a glare, the smallest chuckle escaped his brother, quickly muffled behind his hand.
“I wish I could take that off you,” Leonardo said. “I’m not allowed. Although… maybe I’ll earn that right. I’d like to hear your voice again.”
Raphael let out a muffled groan. He slumped back on the floor, sitting heavily with a dull whumph.
Leonardo pressed close to the bars, the faint light casting shadows across his face.
“Did I know you before?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Everyone says you’re my brother, but…”
Raphael slowly lifted his head, his weary, bloodshot eyes locking with Leonardo’s. It confirmed what he'd suspected, what Donatello and Michelangelo had suspected for days.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” Leonardo pressed.
Raphael nodded once.
Leonardo drew in a sharp breath, his fingers tightening on the bars.
“And the rat, he—” he began, only to stop abruptly when Raphael’s expression shifted. His glare was sudden, sharp as a blade, cutting through the cold air between them. Leonardo stepped back instinctively, his hand raised.
“Oh,” Leonardo murmured, his voice tinged with both curiosity and something else. “You don’t like that.”
His face curled into a faint smile, his teeth catching the light as his gaze flicked back to Raphael’s face.
“But… wow. Wow.”
Raphael frowned Leonardo’s expression changed. Then it clicked. His brother was enjoying this—the anger, the fire in Raphael’s eyes. It thrilled him in a way that made Raphael tense up.
“You don’t like how the clan calls him, do you?” Leonardo continued, his tone casual, as though discussing the weather. He leaned his head against the bars, watching Raphael intently. “But I don’t know any other way. Did I know him?”
Raphael’s breath hitched. He paused, then slowly noded once. Yes. He had known Splinter, known their father, known the one who had cast Leonardo out into the cold. What could Raphael say now, when his brother stood on the other side of the bars?
Leonardo tilted his head, studying him with an almost childlike curiosity. “Did he hate me?”
Raphael flinched.
Leonardo shifted, staring at Raphael, but the answer didn't come immediately. Raphael warred inside himself. Reduced to a simple yes or no, he had to confront the question himself.
You couldn't hide it anymore—that you loved us. Not as a brother. And he couldn’t handle it.
Finally, Raphael nodded once.
"Did I deserve it?" Leonardo asked.
Raphael could only stare at him. That answer was beyond him. Had been beyond him for days now. He knew what Splinter thought. But what he thought…was still too new.
Giving up on that question, Leonardo frowned, staring through him as another question struck him.
"And you?” Leonardo asked, gripping the bars so tight that his knuckles had turned pale. "Do you hate me?"
Raphael’s breath caught in his throat, the lump there threatening to choke him. He closed his eyes and turned away, but with a slow, deliberate shake of his head, he answered.
Leonardo exhaled softly, the sound a mixture of relief and something else—something Raphael couldn’t quite place.
“Why not?” Leonardo whispered. His voice was so quiet now, so unsure, that it made Raphael’s chest ache all over again. “If he hates me…and I deserved it…why don’t you?”
Raphael didn’t answer. He couldn’t. All he could do was sit there, his head bowed. Even if he hadn't been gagged, he couldn't have answered.
The faint flicker of the bulb caught Leonardo's face, highlighting an expression that Raphael couldn't quite read. It wasn’t cold anymore, but it wasn’t warm either.
“Why not?” Leonardo asked again, tilting his head in genuine confusion. “If I did something…I don’t even know what it was."
Leonardo leaned more heavily against the bars now, his hood pulled low over his face as if to shield himself from Raphael’s gaze.
“Maybe that's why Master found me,” he murmured, more to himself than his brother. “I must have failed.”
Raphael shook his head furiously, his muscles straining as he tried again to yank the gag loose, as his frustration turned into a muffled growl.
“You’re mad,” Leonardo said, looking up at him again. “Good. Anger looks good on you.”
Raphael shot him a scathing look, his teeth grinding behind the gag.
Leonardo’s smile faded, and he tilted his head to the side, as if trying to piece together the thoughts flashing in Raphael’s eyes. “Do you think I’m wrong?” he asked quietly, almost gently. “About him? About us?”
Raphael paused, his breath coming in heavy through his nose. He nodded once, sharply, and then again, more deliberately. He locked eyes with Leonardo, willing him to see the truth there.
“I wish I remembered,” Leonardo said. “I wish I knew what it was like...to be your brother. But I don’t.”
Raphael made a noise of protest, his shoulders tensing as he gripped the edges of the bench. Don’t leave, he wanted to say, Don’t go back to them. But Leonardo was already stepping away from the bars, giving Raphael one last appraising look.
And then he was gone, leaving Raphael alone in the cold cell.
The next day, Raphael heard no sounds but the occasional distant voice or footstep. The cut along his side healed slowly and stung more than he wanted to admit. The ache in his jaw from the gag hadn’t lessened. He flexed his fingers, willing the soreness from his body, when a shift in the room’s air made him made him tense, look up, and startle so that his shell hit the wall.
How long had Leonardo been watching him? Raphael felt a small lift of pride. Even caged, gagged, and stripped of every weapon, his brother still found him dangerous.
“They’re looking for you,” Leonardo said.
Raphael nodded once, the motion clipped and tense. They’d be coming for him. They wouldn’t leave him here. They couldn’t.
Leonardo’s expression didn’t change, but his gaze seemed distant for a moment, as though he were looking beyond the confines of the cell.
“They’re even more fierce without you,” he continued. “They’re…absolutely stunning to watch.”
Raphael’s stomach twisted at the words, the bare openness in the way Leonardo described them. He shifted uncomfortably, his fists clenching at his sides. Stunning. He hated hearing them described like that, knowing how Leonardo’s interest had changed. Intensified.
Leonardo noticed his reaction.
“That’s why I left, isn’t it?” he asked. He didn’t sound angry, just resigned.
Raphael lowered his gaze, turning, but Leonardo had seen his expression.
“It is,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I knew it.”
He pushed off the wall, pacing a step closer, his fingers brushing the hilt of his katana as though for reassurance.
“Can you imagine it?” he asked, his voice shaking slightly despite its even tone. “So disgusting that your family has to throw you away.”
Raphael flinched, but Leonardo’s words came faster with growing certainty.
“Am I disgusting?” he asked, searching Raphael’s face for an answer. “I don’t feel like you’re my brother. Maybe I didn’t then, either.”
The anger in his voice was clear. Raphael’s heart clenched as he met his brother’s eyes, pity softening his glare despite the tightness in his chest.
Leonardo’s expression hardened instantly.
“So I am disgusting,” he said coldly.
Raphael shook his head, trying once more at the gag and growling, glaring at Leonardo, trying to will him to take it off.
Leonardo didn’t relent, his growing smirk aimed at wounding Raphael. “But the rat thinks so,” he said, watching Raphael’s fists tighten at his sides. He chuckled softly, humorlessly. “The rat hates me.”
Raphael’s glare burned hotter, and Leonardo’s smirk deepened, feeding off his anger like fuel.
“I imagine I must have served him as faithfully as I serve Master Saki now. So that means I must have hidden it from him… for years, probably. Years of hiding how I felt. That I adored you.”
Raphael turned, refusing to look at him
“Did you even have a clue?” Leonardo asked.
Raphael closed his eyes tightly. He hated this—hated how his brother’s words crawled under his skin.
Leonardo nodded to himself, as if Raphael’s silence was all the confirmation he needed.
“So I hid it that well… for years. And that wasn’t good enough.”
"Oh." Leonardo's voice dropped lower, quieter, almost a whisper. "Oh, that hit a nerve I didn't know about. Not good enough… yes. I know that feeling.”
After a pause, he nodded to himself once, his voice growing more confident.
“But my master let me keep you,” he said. “He lets me keep you. I earned that. He values my service.”
The words crushed Raphael. His fists shook, and he couldn’t stop the tear that slid down his cheek, wiping it away angrily. That his brother could find value in this—the phantom pain of that final night lingered in every word Leonardo spoke, his memory loss no shield against the scars inside him.
Leonardo stepped closer, his hands curling around the iron bars, his gaze fixed on Raphael’s hunched shoulders.
“I wonder,” he murmured, almost to himself, “will he let me keep the other two? They aren’t as powerful as you, but…they’re so…”
Raphael turned sharply, his head jerking away as if he could physically escape the words. This was too much. All of it was too much.
Leonardo sighed, his breath fogging faintly in the cold air.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to hurt you. I don’t have anyone else to say these things to, and…” He laughed bitterly. “I guess I never did before, either.”
Raphael didn’t look at him.
Leonardo took a deep breath, stepping back from the bars as he reached into his knapsack.
“I’m not allowed to stay for long,” he said, his voice steady again. “I have duties… responsibilities. But… I wanted to bring you this.”
Raphael looked up briefly, his stomach sinking at the faint smile on Leonardo’s lips. His brother set the book carefully inside the cell before picking up his knapsack and retreating toward the shadows. By the time Raphael gathered the will to look at it, Leonardo was gone, as silent as when he’d arrived.
The 36 Stratagems. Raphael stared at it for a long moment, his chest tight with unspoken grief and frustration. Slowly, he crossed the cell, his hands shaking as he picked it up. The leather binding was cracked, the pages old and brittle.
He flipped it open, his breath catching when he saw the familiar scrawl of Leonardo’s handwriting in the margins. Notes, underlines, highlights—all of it meticulously thought out. Each page carried fragments of his brother’s thoughts, snippets of examples from history tied to each stratagem.
Raphael’s heart ached as he read, the notes drawing him in despite himself. It was a window into Leonardo’s mind, a glimpse of the brother he’d known before everything fell apart. For the first time since Leonardo had reappeared, Raphael felt something like hope. Small and fragile, but there.
He turned the pages slowly, carefully, needing to see what was left of his brother in the words scratched into the yellowing paper.