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Donnie couldn’t help the sigh that poured past his lips.
The mess in front of him was enormous.
It couldn’t have been helped. Don logically knew that, but it didn’t remove the sting one bit. Yet being in a new home, having to rebuild from scratch again? It was making his fight or flight kick in.
Strongly.
Especially when there was so much to consider. The Water Pumping Station needed so much more work than a simple clean up and patch job. Mold was always a concern wherever they had lived, but here there was a real potential for a major problem. It was cold now, because of the cooling fall weather, but there was no telling how warm it would get come summer. And with the simple fact that there was no ventilation whatsoever, it was anyone’s guess at how humid the space had the potential to get. Which would just encourage the mold growth.
Of course there was always the building material to consider. Lord, it gave him a headache just thinking about it. April was digging into the city archives for the blueprints for Don, but his best guess was that this station was built sometime in the 1950s which definitely meant the use of asbestos somewhere in the place.
Honestly, all concerning things for any family member, but Raph’s asthma was the current hamster wheel running in his mind. Testing for the mold wouldn’t be too hard, but asbestos would be more of a process. He was going to have to pull some samples for April to send off, and that would take longer than he wanted. It would mean they couldn’t do any major repairs or remodeling until they knew for sure.
Then of course, he’d have to talk to Leo about doing a pharmacy “run” to try and snag some more albuterol to have on hand. They needed to restock on all of their first aid supplies, but having Raph’s medication on hand was imperative.
As much as he hated stealing it from the pharmacy, his brother needed to be able to breathe.
Oh, damn. He remembered that he really needed to make sure there wasn’t alive exposed wiring, especially with-
Before the thought could fully form in Don’s mind, he felt a sharp tug on his mask tails, tipping his head up before the assailant twisted it around to blindfold him.
Immediately, all thoughts left Donnie’s brain. All that remained was the annoyed buzzing created by a little brother.
“Hey! Mikey I swear to go-”
“Wrong brother, Donathan. I’m offended, really. My steps were quite light.”
Donatello was midway to reaching the knot of his mask when he froze. That… that was the last voice he was expecting actually. It took a few minutes for his brain to connect the dots before his body came back online.
“...Leo?” His hand went back into motion and grasped the knot, pulling his mask down around his neck before setting curious chocolate eyes on his brother.
Sure enough, Leo stood there, hands on his hips and a smirk on his face. The curiosity and confusion melted away at the sight of it.
“What gives, Leo? Now I gotta completely redo my mask!” Don huffed, reaching back up to the fabric in question and untying it from his neck.
Leo had the audacity to laugh.
“Awww, you’re so cute when you’re angry.”
“Cute?!” an angry squawk, which only made Leo’s smirk grow deeper, “Leo, we’re almost 19. Cute is not really a qualifier anymore!”
Leo hummed. “Pretty sure Dad would disagree with that, Don.” he let out another amused sound before relaxing his posture a bit. “But you looked like your thoughts were going a mile a minute. Thought the ol’ mask grab would be best to give you a reset.”
Donnie’s face just twisted into something even grumpier.
“Are you taking a page out of Mikey’s book then? Because that’s not your typical style.”
It was minute, but Don caught it anyway. The slightest shift in facial muscles. Leo’s face had gone from a warmer radiance to something slightly more somber. It didn’t completely diminish the joy his brother had, but the words had caused some type of a blow. A guilty little feeling setting into the center of Don’s chest, because it wasn’t meant to be a true barb.
But before he could apologize for it, Leo reached out and grasped his shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze.
“Heh, maybe. Alright, little brother, what’s turning in that big brain of yours?”
That question apparently included a lot more thoughts than Don appreciated. Because once he started relaying to Leo about what was on his brain, he found other worries he hadn’t realized were even there. Leo listened patiently, only asking the occasional clarifying question.
By the time he finished rattling off the list, he noticed three things. One, he was feeling mentally exhausted. Two, despite the exhaustion, he was feeling lighter having shared the burden. Three, he realized how much he had missed his older brother.
Leo’s trip to Japan and his absence had been felt by everyone, of course, but truthfully, it only added a physical component to that absence. Leo hadn’t really been with them for months at that point.
And, if Don was truly honest with himself, maybe the absence started to form before they even set foot on that ship.
“Alright, Donnie, what can I do to help?” Leo asked simply, as if it was helping fold the laundry instead of the massive task of rebuilding another home.
Don thought about it for a minute, before looking sheepishly at his brother.
“For starters, could I have a hug?”
Leo just smiled and opened his arms.
[ ]
Mikey really did not want to get out of bed just yet.
Donnie had always described the baby of the family as the prime example of Newton’s first law; “an object in motion will remain in motion at a constant speed and direction unless acted upon by an external force.” And, it was true. The minute Mikey set foot on the floor in the morning, his body fully booted awake and he didn’t stop again until the energy finally tapped out for bedtime.
However, as long as he could stay in bed, Mikey could ignore his body’s natural state of energy. It was the best of both worlds, really. When he was ready to be up for the day, there was no need to wrestle to get his body awake. If he wanted to sleep longer, he could.
And right now? He was the epitome of comfy. Nestled in a perfectly piled blanket nest, warm and on that edge of drowsy that cradled your senses just enough so you could appreciate how comfy you really were.
His stupid bladder wasn’t getting with the program, unfortunately.
Absolutely rude.
He groaned loudly as he flopped over to the other side, hoping the act of reposition would be enough to quiet it down. To his absolute aggravation, he found it made it worse instead.
Defeat, he sourly realized, would have to be admitted
He let out one massive groan before setting his foot to the floor..
When Mikey finally made his way out of the bathroom and headed towards the kitchen, he glanced at one of the many VCR clocks from the wall of TVs, to see he had only managed to make it to 8:30 before needing to get out of bed. Which got a little harumph out of him. Saturdays were a slower day in the lair, allowing for its occupants to physically recover from whatever strain of activity they had expended the previous week.
It became a mandate not too long after their first stint up at the Farmhouse, when they had a chance to breathe for the first time since the Mousers had destroyed their home. It brought into startling clarity to their father how little his children had prioritized rest, how little he had prioritized it. So, unless there was something that absolutely needed their attention, they were to take the whole of Saturdays off.
To absolutely no one’s surprise, Leo had taken the longest time to adjust to their father’s ruling. Which, to be fair, at the time had very much been informed by the being beaten within an inch of his life by Shredder. His ability to relax had been just one of the many things stolen that day, and it took some time to kick in for the oldest.
OK, it never kicked in. Right up until Leo’s stay at the closest thing to in-patient therapy he could get with the Ancient One, he struggled every single Saturday that rolled around.
There was just always an anxiety that sat with his oldest brother. As if he stopped, something would jump out and grab him unaware. The only remedy it seems that Leo could reckon with was training when he could. At first he tried to pass it to their father that it was just as much a passionate hobby as it was a lifestyle.
Dad saw through the bull immediately. Leo wilted at the withering look he received before slumping off to find something else to occupy his time.
In the moment, it was easy to give Leo grief about it. Tease him for being a goody two shoes; a teacher’s pet.
They couldn’t see the response for what it was. Fear of what he had endured. Pressures he was silently taking on without them noticing.
Mikey swallowed thickly at the thoughts. It was hard to not hold onto some shame about the whole thing. April more than once had assured him that they did the best with the information that they had. No one was out to fail Leo, and in the end he got the help he needed.
Still… he loved Leo. Mikey just wished his poor brother never had to go through it in the first place.
He crossed over the kitchen threshold and was greeted with the wonderful aroma of coffee in the air. Mike huffed out a pleased little chur, looking over to find the subject of his previous thoughts sitting at the kitchen table. Leo had a book laid out before him, his own cup of coffee* nestled between his hands. The eldest still got up first on a Saturday, but since they had settled into their Water Pumping Station home, he was much better on the whole “resting” portion of their father’s edict.
If Mike was honest, it did wonders for his morale to see Leo kick back.
“Ah, Leh-ah-nard-o” Mikey bowed deeply, using the voice he specifically reserved for when he was mimicking their father, “You honor me with your gift of caffeine.”
Leo let out a little pfft, smiling at his brother. “Good morning to you too, Mike. You're up early.”
Mikey, who had made it to the counter and was filling his mug, paused mid-pour so he could dramatically toss his head back, drawing his shoulder down as he arch backwards with a loud groan. “Bruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh it’s the worst. I had to pee so badly.”
Leo just chuckled “Aww, sorry Mikey. That’s probably my fault, getting that 12 pack of Code Red for you.”
“Tut tut, big brother.” the orange turtle began “Code Red is a way of life, one I am fully committed to.” Michelangelo replaced the carafe, “Despite the protest of our older sister about the dangers it poses to my health.”
By this time, Mikey had grabbed the sugar canister, proceeding to scoop his customary two heaping spoonfuls into the dark liquid. Another wrinkle of worry for April, he mused. A cheeky little grin had formed on his lips as he continued to prattle on about her misguided attempts to alter his diet.
In fact, he was so deep in the weeds of his monologue that he missed entirely that Leo was eyeing him like a hawk. And by the time Michelangelo had turned around to face his older brother again, the blue terrapin had schooled his face into a much more neutral look.
“And that is why, big brother, I will win the war in the end.” Mike raised his cup in a toast, casting that same chipper smile as he finally drew a long draw of his glorious prize back.
Only to be met with an acrid taste that managed to create a searing burn through his nasal passage.
Later, when Leo would describe the scene in embarrassingly high definition to the twins, the way he painted the picture of Mikey’s spit take sounded like one of those classic Looney Tune moments. His eyes impossibly big as a huge geyser of hot, salted coffee sprayed from his mouth and all over the kitchen floor.
The yowl of displeasure that Mikey made in the present moment, however, was nothing compared to the peals of laughter out of Leo.
The orange brother just stared in unmasked disbelief.
“Leonardo Splinterson,” He squawked, the strong taste of salt still clinging to the inside of his mouth. “Did you just set me up?!”
Leo only responded by laughing even harder.
[ ]
Not too long after Casey Jones had joined the family, it was determined by Splinter that Raph getting out with him to “bust some heads” would be a good extracurricular for his hotheaded boy. Their dad never hid the fact that he wished for a different outlet, but knew a losing battle when he saw one.
At least if Raph was going to insist on using that extra energy to clean up some crime activity, he could have a trusted friend to keep an eye on him.
There had been many questions from a concerned group of brothers if Casey was actually a good fit to keep Raph out of trouble, but Splinter insisted that it was the decision he would be making.
In the end, that decision turned out to be one of the best ones Splinter would ever make. It created so much emotional balance for all of his children. The old rat’s hunch about Casey was right on the money. While the man could be reckless, he understood the assignment he was given. He encouraged Raphael without letting him cross a line. Exactly as he did with Angel, Casey looked out for him.
And the dividends at home were undeniable. Raph got much needed time independent of his bale, and in turn that bloomed a much less terse relationship between all of them. Calmer, more compassionate, slow to blow up when irritated. Things he was always capable of, but didn’t quite have the tools he needed to operate at full capacity.
And Raph would never in a million years stop thanking his father for giving Casey Jones that chance.
Tonight’s workout was a damn good one, too. Some fresh punks working for the Grasso Mafia had decided to cause some trouble down in Chinatown. A young shop owner and his wife were being roughed up for protection money. Casey’s favorite kind of dirtbag to take down, and Raph definitely wasn’t complaining.
The kids were no match for them skillswise, but had some fun tricks up their sleeves. One little freckled punk who couldn’t have weighed 120 lbs wet had chains. The cardio alone Raph got in while toying with him broke out a solid sweat.
No guns tonight, which was helpful. A lack of firearms with the new initiates was a common theme. Raph had made a comment about it once, to which Leo pointed out the reasoning behind it.
”Raph, a bunch of these guys are 16-17 years old. The last thing any experienced gangster wants to do is give a gun to a highly emotional kid who’s frontal lobe hasn’t fully developed. That’s going to bring unnecessary attention to their operations.”
That conversation was before the Edge Lord phase. At the time, Raph was so annoyed with his brother. Because it made so much sense. How the hell did Leo always figure these things out anyway? Raph was smart.
Okay, not Donnie smart. But April was the only one who came close to competing there.
But Leo? Leo could walk into a room and get a full pulse on a situation in seconds. It was as creepy as it was annoying.
It wasn’t until Fearless’ mental breakdown that Raph really began to put two and two together. Leo knew these things because he never stopped thinking. It was apparenting in times like when the three younger ones would goof off during a patrol, and Leo would crack a half smile while keeping an eye on the surroundings.
Or the endless hours of working with their father in sense training. A blindfold and a hard set grimace as he tried his damndest to dodge Splinter’s bokken.
Or the night after night Leo would say goodnight when the others would start a movie just so he could make sure he would be able to be fresh and ready for an early morning rise.
Stuffy. Goody Two Shoes. Brown Nose. Teacher’s Pet. These were all the things that Raph and his brothers would toss Leo’s way. Teasing him relentlessly while Leo took it with a quiet shake of his head.
When really it was their oldest brother trading his boyhood in order to be ready and any scenario for their safety.
It still bothered Raph that it went unnoticed for as long as it did. But it had, and that couldn’t be changed now. All he could do was change what he could now.
Still… there was always the wonder of what it could have been like if Leo got the support he needed.
These were the thoughts glancing through Raphael’s mind as he crossed the threshold of the lair. It was almost enough to keep him from noticing the small sound of a breath, followed by the nothing of it being held in.
Speak of the devil, came the thought.
Sure enough, entering the living room, the brother in question sat in their father’s arm chair, burrito’d in his comforter and looking exhausted.
Leo, upon realizing he had been had, gently released the breath he had been holding and sagged deeper in the chair.
“Hey bud, good night?”
Raph chuckled humorlessly, rolling his shoulders back before crossing his arms across his plastron. “For sure. Bad night?”
Leo huffed at that. “Just can’t sleep.”
“Nightmares?”
His brother just shook his head minutely. “No, just… can’t seem to fall asleep.”
Code for ‘You were gone, and I couldn’t help but to worry.’
Except Leo wouldn’t allow himself to say it that way. For a multitude of reasons. Because he didn’t want Raph to perceive he didn’t trust him, didn’t want to be perceived like a mother hen, should be beyond this habit (as if healing should be a linear line).
Raph internally sighed deeply, hurting for his brother. Externally he yawned.
“Yeah, well, I’m exhausted. Ya up for a pile on the couch?”
Leo startled slightly at that, obviously surprised by the offer. Raphael rolled his eyes.
“What? Yer a comfy pillow. All that hot air from yer lectures puff ya up nice.”
That got a laugh out of his brother.
Twenty minutes later, they were situated on the couch, wrapped up in a few throw blankets and Independence Day playing on the tv wall on low volume. Leo’s head rested on Raph’s shoulder, full weight bearing as his body began to finally succumb to the fatigue.
A deep and long yawn stretched out of him before he spoke softly. “Thanks Raphie.”
It was Raph’s turn to be startled. Raphie was a constant name heard from Mike, and usually a frequent flyer with Don.
With Leo?
“Raphie? Ya haven’t called me that since we were kids.”
Another yawn as Leo settled deeper. “Then I better start using it more. Since, you know, we still are kids.”
Raph couldn’t help but to smile.
[ ]
It was a Friday evening when Splinter finally felt the puzzle pieces of their family slot back into place.
It wasn’t a night that was extraordinarily different from the rest. Normal routines had taken place. The family did their regular training regiment. Michelangelo made a well balanced lunch. Donatello had run off to help April with some computer programming. Leonardo and Raphael took the opportunity to do some extra light sparring (well, what should have been light, at least. The two of them were so competitive in nature, nothing was ever done in halves).
Originally, the boys had plans to go out for patrol at night, but a cooler rain had settled in, and in the end they opted to stay in. When they first broke their way to the surface, things like rain had been a constant fight between Splinter and his children. A father who had been informed by one to many winters with turtles against sons who were ready to stretch their wings.
Learning through experience won out in the end though. Little turtles, no matter how big they got, still were bound to their natural instincts for the cold. And one brumation close call too many did wonders to supplying sage wisdom.
Splinter secretly always loved when the forecast called for rain. Last year on Father’s Day, Donatello had gifted him a little digital calendar. Besides daily updating what day it was, it also would pop up a little icon with the predicted weather for that day**. So when Splinter saw the little rain cloud as he brew his tea, he hummed a pleased little sound.
The house would be full of his energetic boys, just how he liked it.
Incidentally, Splinter was brewing yet another cup of tea when his ears picked up the sound of play in the other room.
“Ok, boys, the game is keep-away. The rules are simple.”
“Gotta be if yer able to keep track.”
“Hardy har, har, Raphael.” came the sarcastic retort. Splinter heard his Sunshine loudly clear his throat before continuing. “As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, the rules are simple. He who can keep the ball in hand for one full minute wins.”
Splinter heard next the tuttling of his Sweetness. “Well, Mikey, maybe we could add no biting?”
“C’MON DONNIE THAT WAS ONE TIME.” growled his Delight.
“Once is enough, Raph. Poor Don had a good mark on his bicep for weeks.”
Ah, and there was his Joy.
Little words that Splinter had always associated with his suns as infants. Descriptions of their personalities before they even said their first words, and ones that followed them into their teenhood. Four distinct little Turtles, who all grew and took on additional qualities, but always kept those first ones.
Well, almost.
Splinter’s ears flatten at the thought, the sounds of play fading in the background.
The seismic shift in Leo felt so sudden. At first, it was easy to dismiss it as stress. They had been so close to death’s door, it was overwhelming for Splinter to consider. Let alone a 17 year old boy.
But then a month passed, and the surly new attitude Leo had adopted remained. Splinter was patient, and life continued as normal as the new normal would allow.
But still, as the months crept by, it was getting hard and hard to dismiss the disparity between the fact that Sunshine, Delight, and Sweetness still filled their home.
But it was absent of Joy.
It wasn’t until three weeks after Leonardo had been sent off to Japan that the old father wondered if the shift had been so drastic as it had felt. Or if his little Joy had been chipped away little by little over the last few years.
It was hard for Splinter to not carry the burden of the damages done. He was their master, yes, but their father first. He had lost much sleep in those two months of his absence wondering if he had permanently damaged the mind of his beloved child. He constantly played over the days events, wondering if he was doing the same to his remaining beloved children.
He sighed, shaking his head. While in Japan during the boys’ time as acolytes, he had gone over this time and time again with the Ancient One, and the result was always the same.
His grandfather reminded him that he did the best with the information he had, and could continue to do so in light of the new information now.
He would have to trust in that guidance, he supposed.
His tea long finished steeping, Splinter took the warm porcelain into his paws and wandered into the other room to see what chaos awaited him.
The rat took a long draw of his ginseng blend from the door of the kitchen, seeing the theatre of his children before him. Michelangelo, it would seem, had possession of the prize they all were looking to claim, and by the maniacal cackling echoing from him, he was close to meeting the conditions of victory.
The twins were in hot pursuit of him, seemingly working in tandem to try and blockade their youngest brother. Splinter could help but the muse that the minute if one of them managed to get the ball from Michelangelo, that their alliance would quickly turn to betrayal. The shouts that would arise from such an outcome would be no doubt amusing.
But that accounted for only three of his children.
Scanning the room, Splinter was not surprised to find Leonardo sitting in wait, the sharp gleam in his eye waiting for the right moment to pounce.
Ahh, ever the tactician, his little turtle.
He took another draw of tea and waited.
The wait was not a long one. Donatello was hot on Michelangelo’s trail, trying to grasp at his mask tails. As he rounded the corner of the coffee table, Raphael came barreling in from the direction Michelangelo had been fleeing, so naturally he diverted.
So preoccupied was he by his two brothers, he failed to noticed the third was in his current path.
In a way that Splinter could help but to smile at, Michelangelo was holding the ball out directly in front of him, much in the way he used to do as a small child. He fully anticipated that Leonardo would simply pluck the ball out of his hands and take off with it.
Except, he didn’t. His orange turtle was tossing out a taunt towards Raphael when Leonardo suddenly struck. In one fluid motion, he shot up from his crouched position and squarely kicked Michelangelo into the hip.
Sending him and the ball flying directly into one of the living room lamps.
The vignette of chaos abruptly stopped at the shattering of the lamp. One turtle lay in a massive lump on the floor, broken glass a few feet beyond him, while three others stood frozen around him.
Suddenly, Leonardo started laughing.
“You should have seen your face, Mikey!” He reeled, laughter becoming harder at the bewildered look on his youngest brother’s face. It wasn’t long before all of his brothers joined him.
Quietly, Splinter cleared his throat. And right on command, his boys came to the attention of their father.
A wry eyebrow lift, Splinter regarded his oldest son for a moment before speaking.
“Perhaps my son, if you have that much energy, you could take it to the dojo and give me 20 flips. Then after, come clean up after yourself.”
A bright little smile still sad on Leonardo’s face, nodding his head before reaching out to offer Michelangelo a hand up. “Hai, father.”
As his Blue boy retreated into the dojo, he cast an eye to his other three boys. “I trust you boys can find a less physically enriching activity?”
Donatello sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. “Mario Kart?”
“Mario Kart.” Came the stereo response.
Once his children were off and settled with their new directions, Splinter made his way over to his chair, feeling warmth from more than just the cooling tea in his mug.
It would seem that, little by little, Joy had come back after all.