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“Tell me where it hurts,” Donnie demands, goggles already flipped down and scanning Leo, and when Leo opens his mouth, no doubt to brush off Donnie’s very legitimate concern, Donnie gets ahead of him. “And be specific.”
“Chill, amigo,” Leo tries to soothe, despite the fact that he’s barely moved from the spot on Raph’s lap. The same spot he’s been in since they pulled him from the prison dimension. “It’s just a few bumps and bruises.”
Donnie doesn’t believe him, because Leo always does this. So Don falls back on his own observations.
“Scans are showing hairline fractures in the entoplastron and hyoplastron bone plates, as well as—Raph, lean him forward two inches so I can see, there—a few of the pleural plates on your shell. It looks like the neural plates are completely undamaged, thank god, so you shouldn’t have any spinal issues, but if you do , you need to tell me right away. The fractured cheekbone will probably—Raph, you can lean him back now—will probably need—”
“Donnie,” Raph snaps, and Donnie pauses, flipping his goggles back up to take in the chasm of worry on his older brother’s face that looks deeper than it ever has.
Leaning against Raph’s free arm, Mikey has gone pale, eyes wide and hand shaking.
And in Raph’s lap, cradled like something precious, is Leo. Leonardo, his dum-dum twin, who almost—and if Mikey hadn’t—
Donnie forces himself to meet Leo’s gaze. He pushes the longing for data collection to the side—bone fractures, ligament tears, ninpo exhaustion—and takes a shaky breath.
“Everything’s gonna be okay, ‘Tello,” Leo says, and if it were anyone but Leo, using anything but that secretive voice, using that name, Donnie would already be revolting.
But it is Leo. It is that voice.
“I thought you were gone,” Donnie croaks.
Leo reaches out a hand, and Donnie finds himself incapable of not reaching back and taking it. Like if he doesn’t Leo will disappear again, even though the logic of that thought is completely skewed. But Donnie’s brain is at war with his feelings, and he can’t take the feeling of a hole in his soul where a balm of electric blue is supposed to always be. Not a second time.
Donnie’s ninpo pulses when his hand meets Leo’s, Leo’s ninpo humming back tiredly.
Unbelievably angry and also incredibly relieved, Donnie just hangs on and tries to process the fact that they’re all still here. It’s not the end of the world. It’s not the end of his world, even though it almost was. Because they almost just lost Leo forever .
“I’m right here,” Leo says. “I’m not going anywhere.”
You almost did, Donnie doesn’t say, bitterness threatening to rise up his throat and spit out in biting words. Instead, Donnie just clutches his brother’s hand tighter.
“Can—can we go home?” Mikey whispers, breaking the tension by bringing all three of his brothers’ attention to him.
Mikey still looks pale, shaky and wide-eyed, holding onto Raph’s belt like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. His ninpo, usually a crackling flame, is barely an ember, so thoroughly exhausted by everything.
Raph’s isn’t much better.
“Sure thing, hermano,” Leo says in that voice that he reserves especially for the youngest. The only thing that betrays his calm demeanor is the deathgrip he still has on Donnie’s hand.
Donnie clutches back just as hard.
Today was a clusterfuck. He found out time travel is real. Raph was captured. They were all separated and Donnie was solely responsible for Mikey. The world almost ended. Leo sacrificed himself . Mikey almost killed himself to save Leo.
But they’re all here. All four of them have somehow survived this whole ordeal.
“Yeah,” Donnie says, blowing out a breath and leaning closer to the warmth of his brothers. “Let’s go home.”