Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

   Donatello bit back another pained groan.

   The wound was really starting to throb now, every beat spilling more stark red over his olive-green scales. The sight oddly reminded him of oil gushing from a busted engine. The only difference was, he wasn’t a machine; there was only so much fluid he could lose before the damage became unfixable.

   Pressure on the wound was only helping to slow the bleeding. His brother’s vibrant mask was a poor substitute for a bandage or sutures. The red seeping further and further into the orange felt wrong on so many levels.

   “…Mikey,” Don gasped, fighting to speak past the pain and the woozy sensation rapidly overtaking him, “…I need… tourniquet…”

   Michelangelo blanched, his face going almost as pale his brother’s.

   “B-But Don!” The youngest turtle objected, and his fearful tone cut even deeper than the blade had, “You said those were dangerous! Y-you said they could cut off the-”

   “…I… I know.” Donnie normally hated interrupting anyone. It went against every polite, respectful, considerate bone in his body. But desperate times called for desperate measures. “…No choice… Have… to…”

   Even if he had the strength to say it, Don couldn’t have given voice to the very real risk that, if they weren’t careful, a tourniquet could do irreparable damage to his limb. He could even lose the arm altogether.

   There was no need to say anything. As Mikey’s features swam in and out of focus, Don saw the understanding in his little brother’s eyes. He knew.

   Something brushed against his face, covering his vision for a split second, before cool air flooded across Donnie’s exposed temples. The next moment he felt a familiar fabric loop around his bicep, the material pulling tight into a biting grip. He failed to stifle another grunt of pain.

Chapter Text

   It was all Don’s fault.

   He was supposed to be the smart one. His brothers looked to him to provide the tech and the knowledge they needed to not only achieve their mission goals, but to make it out the other side in one piece. His whole family was counting on him to give them the intel to get in, get the job done, and get out again.

   And he’d failed. He’d messed up, big time.

   He should have seen it was a trap from a mile away. They hadn’t heard from Sydney since they’d succeeded in curing the crystal mutation in the underground city and freed all the people. It stung a little that she hadn’t tried to get in contact with them again or even left them a message at the manhole cover where they’d brought her back into the light – the real light – for the first time in years.

   Mikey reasoned that she was probably busy. Raph suggested she could be in physical therapy, still adjusting to being human again. Leo said maybe she was making up for lost time with her family. Splinter wondered if she’d left the city and all its associated trauma altogether.

   They all made logical sense. But their arguments did little to ease the betrayal Don felt that someone he’d considered a friend had apparently walked out of his life the moment she no longer needed him.

   Maybe his brothers would have harboured a grudge. Maybe they would have been suspicious to suddenly receive a message (seemingly) from her out of the blue. Maybe they would have told someone where they were going.

   Not Don. He’d been too caught up in the joy that his friend had (again, seemingly) reached out again. Too excited to see her after all these years. Too happy that she still wanted to know a mutant freak like him.

   He should have been more cautious. And now he was trapped in a crystal cage, his head throbbing from the surprise blow he’d taken, surrounded by a splintered cell of enraged Y’Lyntians blaming him for the destruction of their underground city.

   And no rescue in sight.

Chapter Text

   Not these guys, again!

   This was supposed to have been a meditation retreat. A chance to get out into the forest in Northampton and spend some time reconnecting with nature as a family.

   It had been Leo’s idea (because of course it had). But ‘getting back to their spiritual roots’ meant something very different for his brothers. Donnie had insisted that tinkering with the ancient tractor he’d found in the back of the barn was meditative, for him. And April had only just introduced Mikey to the exciting textures of gauche paints, so he was in full hyperfixation mode with his latest canvas.

   Raph had seen the way Leo’s shoulders drooped, the crestfallen look in his eyes, and the resigned sag of his brow. There was no way big brother was going to disturb their hard-earned downtime, especially when they were engaged in hobbies that made them so happy. But he couldn’t hide his disappointment, either.

   Raph always hated to see one of his bros looking like a kicked puppy. So, he’d thrown Leo a bone and offered to join him for some real meditation out in the woods. The grateful smile on his brother’s face was reward enough.

   Except, it hadn’t lasted. Turtle Luck really had it out for them, didn’t it? No sooner had Raph and Leo found a good spot and settled in for some deep breathing exercises, when a bunch of humans stormed into the forest, hooting and hollering and discharging their weapons into the air. Not just any humans, either. These guys were Humans Against The Extraterrestrials.

   H.A.T.E. was the right acronym for them. Either they couldn’t tell the difference between a space alien and a mutant turtle, or they didn’t care.

   Normally, the two highly trained ninjas would have vanished into the treeline long before anyone could have seen them. But a stray shot from a H.A.T.E. rifle had caught Raph in the calf, and now there was a blood trail for them to follow. Leo had jumped to his brother’s defence, only to catch a cracking swing to the head that left even Raph seeing stars.

   With his brother crumpled to the forest floor, Raph dug his heels into the dirt and stood his ground between Leo and the humans. They wanted a fight, did they? Well, bullet wound or not, Raphael was gonna give them one!

Chapter Text

  The force of their collision nearly knocked them both off their shaky legs.

   Quivering hands gripped cracked shells and flaking skin in a bruising embrace. Snouts burrowed into the hollow dips of shoulders that were far too angular, far too thin. Heaving, retching sobs took the place of the tears they were too dehydrated to cry anymore.

   Fingers shook, atrophied muscles could barely grip anymore, but still the brothers clung to each other with a fury that dared anyone to try to part them again.

   Leo wasn’t sure where Raph’s trembling ended and his own began. Prolonged nerve damage had a lot to answer for. So did Bishop. But it was finally starting to sink in that this was real.

  They were rescued.

  They were safe.

   The words wrapped his swollen tongue up into harsh knots. Even if what little air there was left in his crackling lungs wasn’t being forcibly ejected from his body via his hacking sobs and Raph’s crushing embrace, Leo wouldn’t have been able to say them out loud.

   They were safe.

   The words were so fragile, so delicate. They were a trembling deer that you caught sight of out of the corner of your eye: move too quickly, or even just let it know that you’d seen it, and it would bound away like smoke on the water.

   But here, in his brother’s arms – the brother he almost let himself believe was dead – Leo could finally let his crumbling walls down.

   They were safe.

   Against all the odds, they’d both made it out alive. Their family was here. It was over. It was finally over.

   They were safe.

Chapter Text

   The moment the ground beneath him dipped, Mikey knew.

   He’d watched enough movies, seen enough shows, read enough comic books to know what happened next. The shifting of the tile under his bare foot. The squeal of scraping metal. The hollow lurch of his poor stomach. He could almost imagine the camera jumping to a close up of his wide, panicked eyes as he realised the shell he’d just stepped into.

   That said, if this had been a story, he would have gotten time to deliver a one liner. Maybe something witty and clever about their current predicament. Maybe something fearful and urgent. Maybe a brave warning to his brothers to get back away from the danger. Maybe just an ‘oh no’.

   The writers must have been phoning it in today, because all Mikey got a chance to utter was a startled scream as the floor opened up beneath him.

   “Mikey!”

   “Michelangelo!”

   “Mike!”

   By some miracle, his brothers’ shouts were the only things that fell with him. Mikey just had time to make out the sharp, smooth walls of the pit – definitely constructed deliberately – before darkness overtook him.

Chapter Text

   It all started with a movie.

   “Man,” Mikey sighed wistfully, right as the Tyrannosaur burst in at the end of Jurassic Park, “I wish I had a pet T Rex.”

   He didn’t have to look to see the incredulous expression on his brother’s face.

   “Are you out of your shell?” Raph barked, lifting a hand up at the TV, “Are we even watching the same movie?!”

   The on-screen dinosaur hurled a velociraptor – a deinonychus, actually, as Don had so insistently pointed out the first time they watched this movie, and every subsequent time since – into the fossilised display in the entrance hall. She lifted her massive head to emit her iconic roar right as the soundtrack reached its sweeping crescendo.

   “Uh, yeah dude!” Mikey shot back, also gesturing at the screen, “Rexy is awesome! Just imagine what we could do if we had a dino pal to swoop in and save the day.”

   “First off, we don’t have to imagine. We spent three months in the Cretaceous, remember?” Raph emphasised with a flick to the back of Mikey’s head, “And I seem to recall everything there was far more interested in eating us!”

   He gave a snort at Mikey’s peeved look, but didn’t give him a chance to jump in.

   “And secondly, you wouldn’t be saying that if you’d read the book.”

   Michelangelo rolled his eyes.

   “There you go again,” he affected a mock imitation of Raph’s gruff accent, “’Oh, the book is better than the movie’. Yeah, right! Does the book have an epic score by John Williams? Does the book have live action dino models brought to life on the big screen? Does the book have real life dinosaur roars?”

   “It’s not ‘real life’, you numbskull,” Raph threw his hands up in frustration, “They made those noises up based on whatever they thought sounded cool!”

   “Whatever,” Mikey huffed, “The film is still iconic.”

   “…Never said it wasn’t,” his brother grumbled as the end credits rolled.

  Everything had gone wrong in a blink.

   Somehow, Raph and Mikey had ended up separated from Donnie and Leo at the worst possible time. Raph had no idea where they were. He could only hope they were ok. He still couldn’t figure out how the Purple Dragons had managed to get the drop on them. But that was something for Fearless to worry about later.

   Right now, Mikey needed help!

   Raphael heard his brother long before he saw him. Mikey had always had a quick wit, and an even quicker tongue. Even backed into a corner, with his shell against the wall and four punks with guns aimed at him, the turtle still couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

   “Aww, c’mon guys! Is this really fair?” Mikey patted his empty belt in show, “You’ve all got weapons. At least let me retrieve my ‘chucks.”

   “Hands where we can see ‘em!” One of the Dragons snapped. Another one scoffed.

   “Do you think we’re stupid, or something?”

   Don’t answer that, Raph silently pleaded. He shifted ever so slightly in the rafters above, trying to find an opening. This would all be over already if only those goons didn’t have guns pointed at Mikey’s head. Raph may be fast, but even the greatest ninja in the world couldn’t outrun a bullet.

   The only indicator that Mikey knew he was there was the way his brother’s eyes looked anywhere but up into the rafters where Raph was sneaking up. But Raph had no idea what to do next. Even if he took a few of the Dragons by surprise, he couldn’t take them all out before they gunned his brother down!

   “Y’know, that’s a nice tattoo,” Mikey suddenly shifted gears. One of the gang members had a prominent purple dragon inked on his exposed bicep, “Kinda reminds me of a velociraptor.”

   …What? Why was Mikey talking about freaking velociraptors all of a sudden?

   “Jurassic Park really made velociraptors famous,” Mikey continued, seemingly at ease, “Man, I love that movie. The raptors in it are so smart. They could open doors and everything!”

   What was that idiot doing? Had he totally lost the plot??

   “They’re almost as smart as my cat,” Mikey boasted, “She’s such a clever girl. I tried to distract her with a hat, but she saw right through me!”

   Ok. Mikey had officially gone crazy. Maybe he’d been hit upside the head one too many times. Babbling about a movie was one thing, but getting his beloved pet’s sex wrong was just unheard of! He knew Klunk was male. It’s not like it wasn’t obvious, or anything.

   And what was with the weird inflection he’d put on ‘clever girl’?

   …

   …

   … Oh.

   Ok, maybe Mikey hadn’t lost it after all.

   “Do you want to see some photos of my cat?” Mikey asked, reaching slowly towards his belt, “I’ve got some great ones on my shell cell.”

   The Purple Dragons weren’t buying it for a moment, but with their full attention on Michelangelo, Raphael was able to quietly slip into position. His brother continued to stare dead ahead at the gang members, but Raph knew Mikey had seen him.

   “I said hands where I can see ‘em!” the first Dragon snapped, lifting his gun to shoot.

   “I’ll show you hands!” Raph snarled into the man’s ear. His fist shot out of the shadows and clocked the man right in the jaw.

   Chaos erupted. The remaining three Dragons swung towards Raph’s hiding spot, leaving Mikey wide open to jump in with his own knuckles. He took another one down with a whoop. The other two began firing, but their bullets went wide. The turtles were already on the move.

   Now that the odds were much more even, Raph and Mikey were able to make short work of their attackers. They didn’t wait around to see if the Dragons were out for the count or not. Better to get as much distance between them as they could. Hopefully, Leo and Donnie would have heard the gunshots, and they would be on their way to investigate. With any luck, Raph and Mikey could intercept them on the way.

   “What was that about the book being better than the movie?” Mikey shot his brother a grin as they took off running.

   “Shell-for-brains,” Raph rolled his eyes, but couldn’t keep the smirk off his own face.

Chapter Text

   For a family with four teenagers forced to live in hiding in the cramped sewers together, there were surprisingly few arguments between them. Oh, they quarrelled and bickered with each other almost nonstop. But it was rare that these disagreements devolved into true fights.

   Rare, but not unheard of.

   “It ain’t our business, Leo!”

   “Since when do you walk away from a fight?”

   Two raised voices echoed off the brickwork of their subterranean lair. One gravelly and deep, rolling like rapidly approaching thunder. The other sharp and brittle; a blade forged of solid ice.

   It wasn’t often that cold winds smashed into hot air.  But when they did, the result was always a colossal storm.

   “Since you started drinking idiot juice! I may be a hothead, but I ain’t stupid! And I ain’t about to throw my life away in a battle we can’t win!”

   The remaining members of their family exchanged uncomfortable glances. Don winced as the shouting got louder. Mikey fidgeted anxiously. Splinter looked bone tired.

   They all knew how difficult it was to mediate when Raphael and Leonardo were at each other’s throats.

   “Raph, the greater good-”

   “No. You do not get to stand there and preach to me about the ‘greater good’. The greatest good I care about is the safety of this family!”

   “Oh, and I don’t?!”

   “You sure got a funny way of showing you do! Tell me: how is running headfirst into a war supposed to keep our family safe??”

   “If we let these warring factions hurt innocent people and tear the city apart, then nowhere will be safe for us!”

   The entranceway to the dojo was wide open. The brothers might as well have been fighting in the middle of the lair, for all the privacy they had. Neither of them seemed to care.

   “Whatever happened to minding our own business?”

   “Whatever happened to finishing what we started?!”

   “Oh, this’ll finish us, all right! Finish us once and for all! Forget the ‘greater good’. We won’t be able to do any good by the time this all blows up and takes us with it!”

   The problem was, they both had a point. Leo was right that if they didn’t step in to quash the power struggle in the city, a lot of innocent people could get hurt. But Raph was also right that this war was bigger than any of them, and the chances of them making it out the other end unscathed were slim to none.

   Unfortunately, they were both well past the stage of being able to see each other’s point of view.

   “We have to try, Raph! We can’t just turn our backs on the city when we were the ones that caused this mess in the first place!”

   Leo always did have something of a White Knight complex. Unfortunately, it did tend to come hand in hand with a rather high horse.

   “No, the Shredder caused this! He’s the one responsible for the mess up there, not us!”

   Raph’s world began and ended with everyone he considered to be his family. Honour could take a flying leap as far as he was concerned, just as long as they were safe.

   “And we took him out!”

   There was a long, sudden pause. The rest of their family stiffened apprehensively. It was so quiet that they could hear the water in the tide pool rippling against the surrounding brick. But before anyone could make a move towards the dojo, Leo’s voice came again, softer and rawer than before.

   “… I took him out.”

   There was so much guilt weighing down that one statement that it was a surprise they hadn’t heard Leo crash to the floor under its mass. He always did have the bad habit of trying to shoulder far more than it was wise to carry.

   No one seemed able to get it through to him that none of them expected him to carry it alone.

   “…Raph, I… I have to do this. It’s my responsibility.”

   The screaming had been replaced with a far more chilling murmur, but their brother’s sombre voice still carried to the rest of the silent lair.

   An even longer pause hung in the musty air. Had the storm blown itself out, or was it just the beat between lightning’s flash and thunder’s roar? No one dared move.

   At last, a deep, weary sigh echoed from the dojo.

   “Alright. Fine. Come on, then.”

   “…What?”

   “Well, I don’t wanna go alone! You’re the leader. So, lead the way, Fearless.”

   “R-really?”

   The sound of a palm slapping onto shell rang out through their home.

   “Yeah. For the record, I still think it’s nuts. But, if it means that much to you, then let’s go. Besides, you bozos will be much safer with me there to watch your backs.”

   The static pressure in the air dissipated. The storm was gone.

   “Thanks, Raph.”

Chapter Text

    Even though it had been years since they first started to come here, the novelty of the farmhouse never seemed to wear off for the little mutant family.

   Maybe it was the fresh air. Maybe it was the soft grass beneath their feet. Maybe it was the wide-open spaces that they could move around freely in, without constantly having to worry about who might see them. Maybe it was the regular access to sunlight that their reptilian bodies craved so much.

   The future of 2105 had been similar in a lot of respects. But while they did miss Cody and Starlee (and, ok, maybe Serling, sometimes), nothing could beat the privacy of their retreat in Northampton.

   Raph and Donnie were engrossed in tinkering with an ancient tractor that Casey had found in the back of his grandma’s barn. The man himself was busy picking up groceries in town. April had taken their four-year-old daughter for a walk with Grandpa Splinter to the orchard. They were hoping to find some early apples to turn into a pie for dinner. And Leo had sat himself out on the grass to bask – or, as he claimed, meditate – in the summer sun.

   That left Mikey with the farmhouse all to himself. With no one within earshot to tell him to keep it down, he’d cranked his music up to full blast and danced to his heart’s content. Not to brag, but Mikey had some incredible moves, if he did say so himself. Why, he could have gone pro, if it wasn’t for the whole ‘mutant turtle’ situation. Alas, the world would be forever robbed of his creative vision.

   It was pleasantly cool in the farmhouse with the windows open and the electric fans Don had installed going. Still, it wasn’t long before Mikey had built up a healthy sweat. As the last song ended, he decided it was time for a well-earned break and a cold drink.

   Mikey grabbed a towel to mop his brow as he entered the kitchen and strode up to the fridge. Was the day warmer than he’d been expecting, or had his workout just been a bit more intense than he’d realised? Either way, he was parched, and some ice-cold juice sounded heavenly right about now.

   He was just pouring himself a second glass when he heard a thump from the back door. He turned, expecting it to be Raph barging in with his usual disregard for property, or Donnie misjudging the width of the doorframe as he tried to haul his latest project inside. Or maybe even Casey, back early from the store and juggling far too many bags at once.

   But it was none of them. To his surprise, it was Leo.

   Aside from Master Splinter, Leo was the last one any of the family would expect to be clumsy and heavy footed. Ok, there was that one time with the landmine in the sewers – and didn’t Leo wish his brothers would forget about that! – but normally their fearless leader was as graceful and fluid as a rolling river.

   “Wow, Leo,” Mikey smirked, raising a brow at his brother in the doorway of the kitchen, “All that sun seems to have burned the ninja training right out of your head.”

   He was expecting a glare, or perhaps a humourless laugh in response to his jibe. What Mikey was not expecting was for his brother to groan and clutch the doorframe as if he was going to fall over if he didn’t hang onto something.

   Mikey was at Leo’s side in a flash. “Woah! Take it easy, bro!”

   Now that he was closer, he could see the sweat beading on his sibling’s forehead. And when Mikey grabbed his arm to guide Leo over to sit in one of the kitchen chairs, he could feel how weirdly clammy his brother’s skin was.

   “Dude, you’re way too hot!” Mikey didn’t even make a joke about the fact that he was the pretty one, thank you very much, “Have you drunk, like, anything since breakfast?”

   Leo could only manage a faint shake of his head but quickly abandoned that to screw his eyes shut in the telltale wince of a headache. His breathing was far too shallow for Mikey’s liking, and Leo’s pulse under his hand was rapid but concerningly weak.

   “Hold on. Let me get you some water.” Part of Mikey worried that if he let go, Leo would topple headfirst off the chair. But he was able to keep his balance with the help of the table while Mikey dashed to the sink, filled a glass, and hurried back to his brother’s side. “Here you go. Slow sips, now. April will kill us if you barf all over her clean floor.”

   Leo didn’t react to the joke, but it did give Mikey an idea. The lino floor was somewhat cool underfoot, and the kitchen was currently on the shaded side of the house. If he dragged one of Don’s electric fans in here, the breeze should help to bring his brother’s temperature down.

   “Keep drinking, Leo. I’ll be right back.”

---

   “You really think you can get it running again, Don?”

   “Oh, easy. The real trick will be figuring out an alternative fuel source for it. Old engines like that were built to run on a much more lead-based gasoline mix than we have nowadays. I’ll have to tweak the-”

   Raph and Donnie pulled up short in the doorway to the farmhouse kitchen. Leo and Mikey were sprawled out on the floor at their feet. Leo had a damp cloth over his forehead, and an electric fan blowing cool air on his skin. Mikey was propped up at his side, happily chatting away as he read one of his comic books out loud.

   “Uh, guys?” Raph cleared his throat.

   “You ok?” Don added, a note of concern entering his voice.

   Mikey put his comic book down and looked over at them as if it was the most natural thing in the world for their two brothers to be lying on the kitchen floor in the middle of the day. “Hey, dudes. How’s the tractor?”

   Leo scooped the damp cloth off his forehead and propped himself up slightly so he could see the others better. “We’re fine,” he answered, though he sounded slightly fatigued, “I just spent a little too long in the sun, so Mikey was helping me to cool down.”

    “Mikey?” Raph couldn’t resist raising a sceptical brow, “Being responsible? You two switch places today, or something?”

   “Ha ha,” Michelangelo shot back, sarcastically.

   “How do you feel now, Leo?” Don ignored them both in favour of kneeling by his stricken brother and checking him over, “Any nausea or dizziness?”

   Leo allowed him to fuss, knowing it would help to ease his mind. “Not anymore. I’m feeling much better now.”

   Mikey was pleased to hear his brother’s familiar, confident tone coming through again.

   “That’s good,” the worried pinch to Don’s eyes eased somewhat, though it didn’t fade entirely, “But I’d still like to monitor you for a few hours, just to be safe. We may be built to bask in the sun, but even we can get over hot.”

   “You’re telling me,” Leo groaned as he tried to sit up properly, “Can I at least get up off the floor, now?”

   Donnie considered it. “You seem steady enough. Just take it slow and stop if you start to feel woozy again.”

   He and Raph slowly helped Leo to his feet, careful to make sure he was balanced before they let go.

   “Man, Fearless,” Raph huffed, but there was no bite to his tone, “Who’d have thought too much meditating could be bad for you?”

   It showed how much Mikey had been worried for him that he didn’t immediately stick up his hand and yell “Me! I did!”.

   “At least in these temperatures, anyway,” Don agreed, “We might have to implement some kind of buddy system if we know we’re going to be out in the sun for a while.”

   Leo didn’t argue. “Good idea,” he mumbled, still looking somewhat drained. His brothers noticed immediately.

   “How about a movie?” Donnie suggested. Leo could rest on the couch while they kept an eye on him, without him feeling too self-conscious. Hopefully.

   Everyone agreed. Raph followed Leo to the living room, trying to look like he wasn’t hovering in case his brother stumbled.

   “Ah yeah!” Mikey punched the air happily, “This calls for some brewskis, broskis!”

   “No alcohol,” Don shook his head, seriously, “It heightens the risk of dehydration, and makes it harder for your body to regulate it own temperature. But fluids in general are a good idea.”

   By the time they came through into the living room with a pitcher of lemonade and four glasses, Leo was settled on the couch with Raph at his side. Don was pleased to see that Leo was already looking more like his usual colour. It looked like Mikey had taken good care of him.

Chapter Text

   It had been a good night.

   Mikey had just returned to the lair after his third Wednesday of every fourth month shift as the Turtle Titan with the Justice Force. His duty had been a breeze, and he was still hyped up from helping to stop a burglary with Silver Sentry and Ananda. He was very much looking forward to telling his brothers all about it, and, of course, how Turtle Titan had absolutely saved the day yet again. Please, please, hold your applause until the end of his story. Why, of course he’ll sign your bike helmet, Raphael. It would be his pleasure.

   Michelangelo was so caught up in his daydream that he almost missed the voices coming from Donnie’s lab.

   “-just can’t think of a good enough idea! I need to pass this class, Don.”

   “Well, what about the supersonic frequency of the Y’Lyntian crystals from our old lair? There’s bound to be no one else writing about that.”

   “Uh, yeah. Because it sounds totally made up. No offense, Donnie, but if I bring a paper about magic crystals to class, the professor is gonna flunk me for sure!”

   Mikey padded softly up to the open door to his brother’s workroom. Sure enough, he found Donatello sat at his desk, with Angel perched beside him. She looked utterly frustrated, though he guessed that was more to do with her homework and less with Don’s suggestions. From the crumpled-up papers littering the floor, he could guess they’d been at this for some time, now.

   Mikey decided they could use a break. “Hey, guys,” he called, as he stepped into the lab, “Who’s up for a movie?”

   Two heads – one turtle, one human – turned to look at him. Don looked relieved to see him back unharmed. Angel’s eyes, on the other hand, widened at the sight of his get up, before a massive grin broke out over her previously tired face.

   “Yo, Mikey! You holding out on me?”

   Turtle Titan could take anything in stride. Dr Malignus’ nefarious mind control bots? Easy. Big Bad Binky Boy’s de-aging beam? Child’s play (pun very much intended). An evil alternate dimension version of his father? Ha! Just let Sliver return for a rematch!

   But this? Mikey was forced to admit defeat.

   “Uh…what?”

   “This!” Angel hopped up from her chair and tugged lightly at his cape. “Have you been to a comic book convention without me? Dude, I’m hurt! And here I thought we were friends…”

   The twinkle in her eye and the smirk on her lips revealed that Angel wasn’t actually offended. Realisation slowly dawned on Michelangelo that he’d never told Angel about his part time gig as a superhero. In his defence, it hadn’t really come up. And he had no reason to believe she’d even be interested, before. But now…

   “Angel?” he gasped, eyes sparkling wide with hope and excitement, “Do you like superheroes?”

   Angel scoffed, playfully. “Like them?” She tossed her purple locks sassily over her shoulder and shot him a wink. “I love them!”

   “Me too!!!”

   Poor Donnie could only shake his head fondly as his private tutoring dissolved into a debate over which superhero was the best.

   “Silver Sentry’s got all the powers!” Mikey boasted, showing off a signed autograph he’d gotten from the caped crusader himself.

   “Nobody doesn’t even need powers to be a hero,” Angel shot back, hands on hips, “And he’s way cooler!”

   Mikey gasped in mock offense. “No one’s as cool as Sentry!”

   Don could see this devolving into a full-blown argument if he didn’t step in. “So, about that movie…”  

   To absolutely no one’s surprise, Mikey and Angel immediately picked The Avengers. Donnie didn’t object, even though his brother had forced the whole family to watch this film a dozen times in the last six months alone. What? It was a good movie! So, what if Mikey could recite the entire thing in his sleep? That just went to show what a modern-day classic it was!

   There was nothing better after a day of fighting crime than being tucked up on the sofa beside his brother and one of his good friends, with a bucket of popcorn and a great movie on the TV. And, even better, he could totally nerd out about all things superhero with Angel! Mikey was so taking her to his next comic book convention!

   “Y’know,” Angel commented, right as Bruce Banner revealed the secret to how he transformed at will, “If they wanted to make, like, a new evil Hulk clone, or something, they could just spell ‘Hulk’ backwards. The Indomitable Kluh, Pulveriser of Bone. Kinda cool, right…?”

   The world lurched violently. All he could hear was the roar of the crowds. Blood thumped through his head. His palms were almost too slick to hold his nunchaku. Sweat and grime mixed with the dust of the arena to coat his tongue in a vile paste. The sun was in his eyes. How did the Battle Nexus even have a sun, anyway?

   A flash of purple. He flinched back before he even registered what he was doing. The movement yanked at the spiderwebbing cracks growing across his plastron. It hurt. Shell, it hurt! His chest was so tight! Every breath was agony. Mikey found himself doing a surprisingly good impression of Leo’s tea kettle with every searing inhale.

   A scowling purple face filled his vision. Kluh. Now Mikey remembered! He could see Kluh’s fist, drawn back for another strike, little fragments of Mikey’s plastron clinging to the clenched knuckles like sprinkles on a horrible, disgusting donut. Great. Now he could never eat donuts again. Thanks a lot, Battle Nexus!

   The grip on his arm tightened. He struggled to pull free. No, please! Don’t hit him again! Mikey didn’t know if he could take another punch. His whole body felt so taut he’d surely break into a million pieces if he was struck just one more time. Mikey didn’t want to be a pinata! He couldn’t be the Turtle Titan anymore if he was reduced to tiny little Mikey pieces!

   “-ikey!”

   No! Please, stop! His family was counting on him! They were all going to be so disappointed if he lost. And after Leo put in all that effort to train him, too…

   “-ike!”

   He couldn’t help it. He squeezed his eyes tight, bracing for the blow that would turn him into the turtle equivalent of a busted window…

   “Michelangelo!”

   …That…that wasn’t Kluh’s voice…

   …It almost sounded like…

   “Mikey, it’s me! Donnie. I’m here. You’re ok. You’re safe. Please, just breathe.”

   The room faded back in, slowly. The roar of the arena muted, replaced with the familiar sounds of creaking pipes and drafty tunnels. The blinding sun eased back to the flickering television screen, now silenced and paused. He could still feel the cool tiles under his feet, but now it was joined by the texture of their scratchy old sofa against the backs of his legs.

   “That’s it, Mikey. In, and out. Nice and slow.”

   He blinked, and the purple in front of him retreated to a thin band across an olive-green face. Donatello. His brother. But where was…?

   “You’re ok, Mikey.” A female voice. April? No, younger than April. More purple, but this time framing a tan face. Dark, concerned eyes scanning him anxiously. Angel. “Just breathe, ok?”

   But… But his chest… His eyes swivelled downwards before he could stop them, narrowing in on… His plastron. His solid, complete plastron. Only the faintest of scars remained to tell the story of what had happened a few years ago.

   He was whole. He was complete. He wasn’t about to become turtle confetti.

   Clarity returned like a rush of cold water. Mikey was home, in the lair. Don and Angel were sat on either side of him on the sofa. They’d been watching a movie with him. Donnie had put Mikey’s hand on his chest and was guiding him through some deep, exaggerated breaths in and out. Angel was rubbing his shell.

   They were here. They were safe. Mikey’s plastron wasn’t splintering into a thousand tiny shards.

   It still felt a little like he was trying to breathe through a straw, but every inhale that his brother took with him was a little easier. In, and out. Everything was ok. Just breathe.

   It was funny what random things came to mind during moments like these. The words were out of Mikey’s mouth before he’d finished processing them.

   “…Did you know,” he asked, around the rhythm of inhaling and exhaling that his brother was guiding him through, “…that turtles …can breathe …through their butts?”

   Silence. Two pairs of eyes could only stare at him in response.

   Angel blinked. “…What?”

   Perhaps Donnie was more used to his brother’s random statements, because he recovered much faster.

   “Only in water,” he reminded Mikey, “And it’s not a very efficient process. I’d rather you stuck to breathing with your lungs, right now.”

   Angel wasn’t able to brush off the non sequitur quite so easily. “I’m sorry, what?” Her gaze flicked between Don and Mikey, and back again, demanding answers.

   “It’s a process called cloacal respiration,” Don explained, easily able to infodump while he continued to help his brother calm down, “There are special organs called bursae, located next to the intestines, that draw oxygen out of the water and exchange it with carbon dioxide. But it’s not something that all turtles can do. Mostly just species of river turtles.”

   Another long pause followed. Their human friend eyed them both cautiously. “…So…Can you guys…?”

   Mikey burst into laughter.

- - -

   “Hey, Mikey,” Don called from his lab as his brother passed the open door. Michelangelo dutifully stuck his head into the room. “Angel’s coming over later. We’re going to celebrate her getting a B on her paper.”

   “Awesome!” Mikey cheered, punching the air, “What did she end up writing it about?”

   A wry smile crossed Donatello’s face.

   “Cloacal respiration.”

Chapter Text

  It wasn’t often that they got to hang out, just the two of them. But Mikey was laid up in bed with a twisted ankle – a new skateboarding trick gone awry – and Raph was out with Casey tonight. With a marathon of Master Splinter’s soaps on TV, April off staying with her sister for a few days, and Leatherhead busy fixing up his new home, there really wasn’t anyone else to ask.

   Don had tried to insist he didn’t need the help. It was just a junkyard run. Just a trip for a few components that he couldn’t order online, or their human friends couldn’t easily pick up for them. He wasn’t even after anything bulky or heavy, this time. He could manage on his own.

   But Leo wasn’t having any of it. Perhaps it was because they’d grown up having to hide their very existence in order to remain safe. Or maybe it was a combination of all the crazy high jinks they seemed to effortlessly get themselves into, paired with that phenomenon that Raph liked to call ‘Turtle Luck’.

   Of course, it didn’t help either that Don had recently been taken captive by the Triceratons when they invaded the planet. To be fair, a lot had happened in those few short days – aliens attacking the Earth, Don getting captured, Bishop strapping them to dissecting tables, Leatherhead’s torture, the Professor’s sacrifice…

   So, maybe Don could understand his brother’s anxiety about letting him leave the lair alone. If he was honest with himself, Donnie wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to go out on his own right now, either.

   But Leo? It was so rarely just the two of them. Not that Don didn’t enjoy his stalwart brother’s company; of course he did! They were alike in many ways. Both very studious. Both prone to quiet introspection. Both used to picking up after the others when Mikey got one of his harebrained ideas or Raph let the ‘hit first, ask questions later’ impulses win.

   But outside of missions, or whole family activities, Leo and Don didn’t really spend that much time together. Leo’s hobbies tended to be rather isolative – reading and meditating and perfecting his katas. And Donnie always had his beak in some gadget or project. There just… wasn’t a lot of overlap.

   Besides ninjutsu, and being brothers, what did they really have in common? Don could always talk vehicles with Raph, and Mikey was almost as excited for the latest tech as their resident engineer was. But what did he share with Leo, other than being the quiet ones?

   “Talk to me, bud.”

   Don jumped as he found his brother at his side. Sure, they were ninjas. But Leo took the whole ‘silent as a shadow’ thing to a whole other level. Donnie wasn’t normally this oblivious to his surroundings, though. Maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t alone, after all…

   “Is it your head?” Leo tried again, glancing worriedly at his brother’s temples, “Do you need another dose of painkillers?”

   Of course, Leo made sure to bring some meds when they went out. Always thinking three steps ahead, that turtle.

   Don’s fingertips ghosted over the points where the Triceraton mind probe had infiltrated his skull. The resulting migraines had eased to moderate headaches by now, and he was hopeful that they’d continue to lessen as time went on. But he couldn’t be sure that he’d ever be completely free of the mind probe’s side effects.

   It could have been a lot worse, Don reminded himself, ruefully.

   “I’m ok,” he replied, with a gentle shake of his head, “Just… thinking.”

   His hands fell back to the circuit boards in his lap. He’d dug them out of a pile of broken electronics at the dump and sat down in a sheltered spot to sort through them. Most of them seemed to just need a simple fix. There was one with a black and white pattern on the other side that seemed nearly new. But his heart wasn’t in it right now.

    Leo could tell. “So, what’s up?” he pressed, gently, “I can see something’s bothering you.”

   That was another thing about family: you learned to read each other pretty well over the years. Especially when you only had each other for company growing up.

   “I…,” Don wasn’t sure how best to express the storm clouds brewing in his heart. But he might not get another opportunity like this. Perhaps it was best just to spit it out? “Leo, would… would we be friends if we weren’t siblings?”

   Leonardo made it a point of pride to never get taken by surprise. He trained for hours every day to hone his senses and sharpen his mind, in order to be prepared for any eventuality. Their very lives often depended on it.

   But he clearly hadn’t been expecting that.

   “Don, I… Where did that come from?”

   Donatello couldn’t meet his brother’s eyes. “I know it sounds stupid, but… I just… We rarely hang out, just the two of us.”

   “We’re hanging out right now,” Leo pointed out, evenly.

   Don shook his head. “Only because it’s not a good idea to go topside alone at the moment. I as good as dragged you away from your book to come babysit me out here.”

   Leo’s eyes softened. “Watching out for each other is not the same thing as ‘babysitting’. I like hanging out with you, Don,” he assured his brother, putting a hand on his shoulder, “And I would have put aside whatever I was doing for any one of you.”

   “But that’s my point!” Donnie threw his hands in the air, “It’s always me pulling you away from your hobbies to go on a scavenging run. Or you calling me away from the lab to train or go on a mission. We never just do something together because it’s what we both want to do.”

   Leo opened his mouth to protest further. But he must have seen something in Don’s expression, because his jaws shut again without a word. His eyes scanned carefully over his brother’s face, taking in every minute detail. A little part of Donnie’s mind couldn’t help wondering if this was what his gadgets felt like when he studied them…

   “This really bothers you,” Leo said, at last. It was a statement, not a question, but it wasn’t unkind. “Don, of course we’d be friends. Even the best of buds don’t spend every moment of every day together. There are other ways to be friends than sharing the same hobbies and interests. We don’t have to be around each other all the time to enjoy each other’s company. And just because we don’t like the same things all the time, that doesn’t mean we don’t have any common ground.”

   A comforting smile lifted the corners of Leo’s beak. “But maybe we should hang out more, just the two of us. I’m sure we can find things we’re both interested in.”

   A little of the worry and doubt churning in Donatello’s gut lifted. It made him feel better to hear that Leonardo wanted to be his friend, as well as his brother.

   “I’d like that.” In fact, the checkerboard pattern on the other side of that circuit board had given Don an idea. “Hey, Leo. Have you ever wanted to learn how to play chess?”  

Chapter Text

   Scars were just a part of life when you were a teenage mutant ninja turtle.

   They all had them. There was the most obvious one, of course: the chunk of Leo’s carapace that had grown back gnarled and misshapen, despite their advanced mutagen healing and the Utroms’ otherworldly medical treatments. But you didn’t have to look far to see that all four brothers bore the permanent reminders of past battles.

   The spiderwebbing cracks on Mikey’s plastron from Kluh’s fists. The puckered scar on Don’s thigh where a secondary mutagen had been introduced into his bloodstream. The myriad nicks and cuts they’d all endured over the years from everything from enemy weapons to environmental hazards to sheer dumb luck.

   Raphael may not have had any large, notable, outward scars that immediately drew the eye, but he made up for it by easily having the most scars out of all four of them. From repeated splits across his knuckles and beak, to the various gouges and chips in his shell, to the silvery scars running across his body like natural kintsugi. If he was human, he’d probably have a broken nose and cauliflower ears by now.

   And every scar he wore with pride, because every mark on his body was a blemish his brothers had been spared. As long as he could shield them from harm, Raph didn’t care what happened to him.

   The same could not be said for his family.

   “Hold still,” Don chided. His tone was stern, an edge of frustration poking through, but his touch was infinitely gentle as he dabbed at his brother’s wounds, “This is going to need stitches, I’m afraid.”

   Raph only just suppressed the instinct to shrug. “Worth it,” he grunted.

   Donnie’s hands stilled. Leo may have been the brother infamous for his lectures, but the family sometimes forgot that Donatello could dish them out just as effectively when he wanted to. Raph braced for impact.

   “I’m sorry,” Don’s sarcasm bit like a cold North wind, “I missed the part where chasing down and single-handedly fighting six Purple Dragons with knives was a good idea!”

   Raphael bit back a hiss as he felt cooled boiled water irrigate his wound. “Six is nothing. I could handle twice as many with one hand tied behind my shell.”

   “They were leaving,” Don stressed. From his tone of voice, Raph could imagine the genius would be pinching the bridge between his eyes if he didn’t already have his hands full. “You didn’t have to fight anybody!”

   Patience wasn’t a virtue that Raphael Splinterson was known for, even on a good day. Tonight, it was already worn thin by adrenaline, anger and exhaustion.

   “Yeah, I did,” he barked, turning to meet his brother’s glare and disrupting his attempts at first aid. The injuries could wait, “They insulted you, Don! I couldn’t just let them walk away!”

   “Yes, you could!” Donnie stood his ground, his voice as pinched as his brow, “They were just trying to get under your shell. Who cares if they say those kinds of things about me?”

   “I care!!!”

   The fraying cord snapped, leaving a brittle hush in its wake. Don’s face was a mixture of such confusion and surprise that it cut Raph deeper than any blade.

   “I care, ok? I care when people spout lies about ya’, because even though I know you know they’re not true, I still see the way they eat at ya’.”

   Donnie’s face fell. “Raph…”

   But the bruiser didn’t let him finish. “No one has the right to say stuff like that, especially not about my brother! I don’t want you believing any of it, not even for a second. So, if a couple a’ stitches is what it’ll take to prove to ya’ that what those bozos said about ya’ is wrong, then so be it!”

   Don’s eyes were soft again. His hand rested reassuringly on Raph’s forearm.

   “I know they’re wrong, Raph. Trust me, I know. And I don’t need you throwing yourself in harm’s way to prove it to me.” His expression softened further, all trace of frustrated anger long gone. “But thank you. For sticking up for me.”

   Raphael’s shoulders eased, and he breathed out slowly. A smile tugged at the edge of his beak.

   “Anytime, bro.”

Chapter Text

   The moment Mikey heard the crack! was the moment everything changed.

   Truth be told, he couldn’t tell if it had come from Raphael’s rib, Hun’s fist, or both. Mikey was only concerned about one of them.

   He’d been out with his brothers on a routine patrol of the city. It had been a night just like every other. There’d been banter, the usual sibling bickering, and even a little bit of friendly competition. Donnie had left half his brain back at the Lair on his latest project. Mikey had revelled in winding up his bros, until Raph had predictably snapped and lunged for him. And, of course, Leo had rolled his eyes, sighed his Big Brother™ sigh, and attempted to corral his team back into order.

   And then the Foot had struck.

   It wasn’t a surprise to be ambushed by the Foot. 3 out of 5 patrols led to a run-in with the Foot clan, these days. Those sneaky ninja seemed to love bursting out of the shadows to attack. Which was totally awesome when the turtles did it, but, like, really uncool when the Foot did it back to them. Leave the ninjutsu to the turtles, come on!

   Unfortunately, the Foot now had a turtle of their own. Ever since Hun had been exposed to that ooze from the parallel dimension those other versions of Mikey and his bros had come from, the former leader of the Purple Dragons had been turned into a mutant turtle.

   An angry mutant turtle!

   The Purple Dragons had kicked him out, which wasn’t really a surprise. Hun had lost all his street cred the moment his skin had turned green and his back had morphed into a shell. He’d allied himself with the returned Utrom Shredder, but after Ch’rell’s defeat, there’d been nowhere for Hun to go. Human society would no longer accept him. He’d lost everything.

   What the turtles hadn’t expected was for Hun to stay with the Foot clan. He’d made it abundantly clear that his allegiance was to Oroku Saki, not the Shredder’s adoptive daughter. But Hun seemed to hate her successor, Khan, even more than he’d hated Karai.

   Now, with Karai back from Japan and having ousted Khan, she’d resumed leading the Foot clan, though this time not under the mantle of the Shredder. And that could only mean one thing:

   Karai had plans to bring her father back again.

   Donnie guessed that Dr Chaplin, the head of the Foot’s research and development division and Karai’s right-hand man, was probably working on a way to restore Hun to his former self. It was the most logical explanation for why Hun would tolerate working for the Foot again, without the Shredder in command.

   Of course, Donnie was also working with Leatherhead to find a way to reverse Hun’s mutation. Because, hello!?! Hun was seriously harming the name of reptiles everywhere! It was bad enough that the Foot gave ninjas a bad reputation in the city. Now Hun was totally painting turtles as the bad guys! There was no way they could leave him like this!

   Unfortunately, Hun’s mutation seemed to have left him even stronger than he was before. The turtles had agility and years of training on their side. But Mikey reckoned Hun’s already formidable strength now rivalled Traximus, Kluh and Triple Threat combined!

   Which was fine. The Battle Nexus Champion – certified best warrior in the Multiverse, thank you very much – could easily take on this fake turtle!

   …Who, for some reason, seemed intent on ending Mikey personally.

   ...

  OK, so maybe it wasn't a complete mystery. Mikey might have said something about always having wondered what a turtle with hair would look like, but now that he'd seen Hun he wished he didn't know. In Mikey's defence, it was just smack-talk. They all did it. And they'd all dished it out to Hun numerous times before.

   But his mutation must have been a touchy subject for the former Purple Dragon boss, because the next thing Mikey knew, Hun was chasing him across the rooftops.

He wasn't worried about leaving his brothers to fight the rest of the Foot ninjas. There weren't that many of them, and his bros could more than hold their own in a fight. No, at that point Mikey had been more concerned about staying out of reach of Hun's new sharp mutant claws.

   Unfortunately, Mikey ran out of roofs. Unless he spontaneously grew wings (if only those flight packs Don had invented hadn't gotten destroyed in the Y'Lyntian Lair), Mikey was trapped. But that didn't mean he was helpless.

   Hun saw his quarry was cornered. He stalked forward like a hound stalks a fox. But this fox had teeth.

   With a roar, Hun lunged at Mikey. His new form may have come with extra strength and lethal claws, but it also came with extra weight in the form of an oversized shell. He hadn't learnt how to work with the weight yet, so Hun's strikes were slower. And Mikey was all about speed!

   Mikey easily ducked under Hun’s swinging fist, bouncing up nimbly out of harm’s way to crack the bruiser over the bicep with his nunchaku. The impact only seemed to enrage Hun more. He rounded on Mikey, narrowly missing the ninja and receiving another ‘chuck to the face for his trouble.

   His wise mouth might have got him into this mess, but Michelangelo couldn’t resist taunting his enemy. Asking him not to throw quips during battle was like tying Mikey’s hands behind his shell and asking him to still dual wield. It simply couldn’t be done!

   “Dude! Green is so not your colour!”

   Hun bared his sharpened fangs, and lunged at Mikey, missing by an inch.

   “Hey, so, out of curiosity,” Mikey jeered, “Can you retract back into your shell? And stay there!”

   Hun’s snarl was even more of a growl in his new form. The sound rippled in his throat, raw and animalistic in its fury.

   “Hah! Guess it’s true what they say,” Mikey danced out of the way of another attack, “Some turtles really are slow. Oh wait, that’s just you!”

   Ok, ok. Maybe that last one was a bit much. Or maybe Mikey underestimated Hun’s new uber-strength. But in a blink the tables had turned. A solid green fist barely missed taking Mikey’s head clean off. The glancing blow that did clip him still sent him reeling, stars dancing a nauseating ballet before his eyes. The roof shook as Hun advanced to finish him off.

   “Mikey! Move!”

   A blur of red, and Raph’s hands were on his shell, shoving him out of the way. Where had his brother come from? Raph must have followed after Mikey when he noticed he was missing. Michelangelo was just about to make some quip about being late to the party when he heard it.

   The sickening, bone-crunching crack!

   His head shot up just in time to see Raph fly across the rooftop and slam into a ventilation shaft with a resounding clang! He lay there, dazed but still very much alive. Mikey could practically see the cartoon birds flying around his brother’s head. But that was where the comedy ended.

   Hun’s jagged beak split into an ugly smirk. He rolled his enormous neck and shoulders, cracked his oversized knuckles, and rounded on the downed turtle. Before Raph could pick himself up again, or even get his bearings, a fist the size of his own thigh closed around his throat and Hun lifted the turtle off his feet.

   Hands scrabbled at the grip on Raph’s neck. A horrible, gasping gurgle slipped from his beak. Hun gave a bloodcurdling chuckle.

   Michelangelo saw red. The red of his brother’s mask. The red of the blood drip, drip, dripping from the back of Raph’s head. The red peeking through Hun’s fangs as he grinned at his opponent’s misery.

   And the red mist that descended across his own eyes.

   It felt as though a switch had flipped inside Mikey’s head, from ‘goofball’ to ‘gladiator’. Memories of his rematch with Kluh filtered through his mind, particularly the righteous fury that had consumed him when his opponent threatened his family. That same spark surged through him anew.

  Mikey hurled himself at Hun. Gone were the wisecracks. Gone were the taunts, and feints, and leading his foe on a merry dance across scenic downtown New York. In their place were whirling weapons of wood and chain, a rain of blows striking true against mutant green flesh. The staccato of whacks that promised just one hit in the right place and it would all be over. Permanently.

   Hun immediately dropped Raphael, his arms swinging up to defend himself against Michelangelo’s onslaught. But he could only block. Mikey was a thunderstorm, furious and unstoppable. His nunchakus were a blur of orange and brown, leaving black and blue in their wake. He pelted Hun with strike after strike, each one angrier and more painful than the last.

   Hun tried to fight, tried to push back, but Mikey was a force of nature that could not be quelled. The gloves were off. Michelangelo wasn’t playing around, anymore. Not with his brother’s life on the line.

   Hun only realised he’d been forced backwards when the backs of his legs met the parapet of the roof. Mikey didn’t hesitate. With an enraged roar, he brought both nunchakus cracking round to hit at the same time. The force pushed Hun’s torso back. He may have been a brick wall, even before his mutation, but the literal brick wall behind his legs was sturdier. Like a tipping lever, the giant overbalanced, pulled down by the hefty shell on his back. He careened over the edge of the roof with a yell.

   Mikey didn’t wait to see Hun hit the ground. Maybe he’d survive. Maybe he wouldn’t. Mikey didn’t care. He was already dashing back over to his fallen brother.

   Raph had propped himself up on one elbow, his other hand rubbing at his bruised throat. Already, Mikey could see dark bruises blooming under his brother’s green skin. But Raph was alive. That was the important part. Raph was alive.

   “Take it easy, bro,” Mikey kneeled at Raphael’s side, and tenderly inspected the wound on the back of his head. A sizable bump was already forming, and it was still bleeding where the scales had split. They were all much too familiar with how much even a simple headwound could bleed, and concussion was a very real danger right now. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

   Raph swatted the hand in front of his face away. “Three. Now, you gonna help me up, or you gonna continuing asking stupid questions?”

   His gruff reply was just as reassuring as his correct answer, even if his voice did croak as he spoke.

   “Sorry, Raph,” Mikey heard a little of his usual playfulness bleed back into his own tone, “But I think we’d better keep you on your shell, at least until the others get here.”

   Leo and Donnie were bound have heard the colossal thud of Hun hitting the street. They’d be there in no time.

   Raph grumbled but didn’t try to get up. As Mikey gently pressed his orange mask to the back of Raph’s head to stem the bleeding, he sucked in a sharp breath, which quickly devolved into a hacking cough. Mikey helped to support his brother so he could draw more air into his battered lungs.

   “Thanks, Mikey,” Raph wheezed, when he finally got his breathing back under control, “I owe ya’ one.”

   “No sweat, bro,” Mikey replied, his tone uncharacteristically soft, “What are family for?”