Chapter Text
It had been three years. At some point, the subject became taboo. By silent agreement, they simply ceased to talk about it.
Slowly, things started to gather dust. A mug that sat perpetually unused. Some books that spiders tried to make a home with. A blanket which began to smell musty. Their lives moved on, but these objects stayed trapped in the past.
They kept waiting for their family to fix itself. For some magical solution to come wandering out of the wilderness and make it all better. But none ever did. If they wanted to fix their family, if it was worth fighting for, then they had to fight for it.
They hadn’t fought for him. They stayed quiet and all of them drifted apart.
It had been three years.
Raph told Mikey that he was the Nightwatcher. Casey had maybe nudged him to do it, but Raph was the first brother to really open the door. He always was a fighter at heart.
Soon the Nightwatcher had a sidekick: The Turtle Titan. Which, Raph said, was a super lame name, seriously Mikey. And later the Mighty Shelldon joined them. Which was even lamer, and honestly, why did he have brothers like this.
They patrolled the city like it was old times, and they never talked about how different it was from old times. They never talked about why it was so different. Sometimes it sat like a forgotten fruit, rotting and covered in mold. It was almost mentioned, but nobody wanted to go near the stench. It just sat and festered.
The blanket was musty, the spiders crept in, and the mug gathered dust.
They had never set up a shrine, but these things remained. And maybe it was enough. Maybe if they never mentioned it, it meant there was still a chance. Maybe. One last daring escape.
Since they weren’t going out as mutant turtles anymore, they were less careful. The media already knew about the Nightwatcher, and quickly heard about the other two. Enemies who had wondered where the turtles went became suspicious. Potential threats decided to bulk up or move town.
It was a whole new game.
Mikey actually managed to set up some merch for their characters, much to Raphael’s consternation. Donnie helped him with the tech side of things, setting up a website and shipping, etc etc. Raph thought it was all incredibly embarrassing, Mikey, and juvenile. I mean, advertising about ourselves! Next you’ll want us to start a kids’ show!
Dude, I would thrive in a kids’ show. I’d finally be able to be my entertaining self far away from their little fists. They’d love me! Not sure about Don, though.
Well, maybe I’d help those kids learn to love science, which is more important than making inappropriate jokes, Mikey. Or teaching anger issues, like Raph would.
I’ll show you anger issues!
I guess none of those kids will learn boring things like discipline from our show, huh.
It sat, in the shape of what maybe was once a pear, and it was almost touched. Its skin was mottled black, white, and green, and it screamed in agony. Everyone heard it. Everyone looked away.
Sometimes, though, you could almost see it. Discussions with Master Splinter became more like arguments. His corrections felt more like condemnation. Even Mikey lashed out, I know you want to send me away! I’m too annoying for you, so just get rid of me!
Raph and Donnie lurked by the dojo. Like shell is anyone leaving.
The unspoken words rotted on the counter.
It had been five years. The three had upgraded their costumes, which Raph still complained about like a hypocrite. Mine was cool, Donnie, not whatever this is.
They gained allies, fought bad guys, collected a few new scars. The blanket smelled mustier than ever, but it stayed folded in the corner. The books had been taken over by spiders, but the little guys learned to hide in the shelves where they were hard to see.
The mug had been broken. It was nobody’s fault, but Raph had knocked it down while reaching for a coffee cup, and he’d broken his own mug while fumbling for the dusty one. It shattered, and its insides were blue and gray from all the dust. And it was worn from use and so blue and it lay there broken and rotting on the ground.
And Raph stared. No. Nononono. He backed away, and stepped on the shards of the other mug. Red like rage. Red like blood. Red with blood. He grabbed a towel and there was red mixing with the blue and the gray now and. The mug was broken. It was broken and it was all Raph’s fault.
There was no glueing it back together. There was no undoing the past. No making up for his clumsiness. No making up for his blindness.
And he held a bloody towel in one hand, and a shard of red in the other. And he stared at the broken blue mug. The insides were blue. A little secret for the one who drank from it. The insides were blue and they were outside now and there was no going back.
Donnie, who worked from the lair, called out. Is everything going alright, Raph? And it was progress that they could talk like that. Casual. Asking if someone needed help.
Raph stared at the mug and thought about blue and help and wondered if he had ever asked. Is everything alright? The blue was on the outside now and it was gray with dust and flecked with blood.
Donnie came by to check on Raph and found him staring at the shards of blue, still holding the bloody rag. His words swam the Hudson to reach Raphael. What’s wrong?
I broke it. It’s there, smashed on the floor. And I even bled all over it, just to top it all off.
Broke what?
It’s… you know that mug’s almost the exact shade of blue? Only on the inside though. I always wondered what he saw in that harsh gray clay, but I bet Fearless was just laughing it up inside every time he used it.
Donnie was quiet a moment. He always liked hidden jokes that weren’t funny.
I don’t know about you, Don, but it’s the funniest thing in the world to me right now.
They put all the pieces in a box. It reminded Donnie of a coffin. When Mikey came home, they didn’t say much. Raph just called out from the couch: I broke Leo’s mug. Did you know it’s blue on the inside?
Well, yeah, that’s why he liked it.
And that was all. The mug was cleaned up and put away neatly. The possibly-once-a-pear began to be cleaned as well. They shared stories about Leo, and all he had meant to them. His anger, his support, his strict rules, his quiet humor. His favorite movies, his strategic mind. The way he would smile to himself while watching his brothers. The way he tended to seclude himself.
His love of meditation, and all the alone time he spent. The ways he protected them. The ways he hurt them.
He was a good brother.