Work Text:
When you grow up with something around you all the time, it’s easy to inadvertently take it for granted. Case in point: Cody Jones.
Despite his love for technology and inventing, Cody had never really thought about what life must have been like before humanity had widespread access to all of these everyday innovations. Not until the Turtles were pulled forward into his time, that is.
Everything was new and amazing for them. Not just the extraterrestrials walking around freely in New York City, or how the Turtles didn’t have to hide in the shadows anymore. But little things, too. The things that 22nd century residents of Earth just accepted as ordinary.
Donatello was predictably enthralled by all the gadgets and gizmos that Cody had simply grown up with – everything from robotic assistants to make his food or aid his personal grooming, to comparatively everyday things like gyro-wrenches and graviton regulators. Don spent a whole day just happily disassembling the ion-toaster to see how it worked (much to Serling’s lament).
Mikey was drawn like a Rigellian moth to an astro-flame by the 3D holovision screen and immersive games console. It took a while for him to get his head around the fact that one console could play any game on the market (Cody had to look up what the ‘console wars’ Mikey was talking about were) but he picked up the controls as if he’d been playing since he was a tot. Helix was a huge hit with the orange-accented turtle (perhaps too much…).
Raph was much more resistant to what he called ‘future’ tech. He grumbled about holo-pads and robotic chairs, and twice Serling had to repair the Sani-Lav 2150 after it jump-scared Raphael in the bathroom. Though strangely enough, Cody heard no gripes from the hot-headed brother when it came to his energy sais made by O’Neil Tech’s transcendental lathe …
Even Master Splinter adjusted to his new surroundings with relative ease. Where Cody had half expected the traditional rat to prefer physical media and simplicity to 22nd century innovation, the old sensei adapted remarkably quickly to his new normal. The built-in massage lounge chair and on demand streaming of every episode of his favourite soaps probably helped a lot.
Of the whole family, Leonardo was the hardest to get a read on. He made appreciative noises whenever Cody, Donnie or Mikey excitedly showed him a new device. And he embraced their new tech-enhanced weapons and holo-dojo with all the adaptability of a true ninja. In fact, when he wasn’t training in the dojo, he could often be found meditating in there with the waterfall program running.
And yet, when Cody presented Leo with a holo-pad already downloaded with a whole library’s worth of reading material, the Turtle politely turned him down.
“Thanks, but it’s not the same,” he’d tried to explain, prompted on by the confused look on the boy’s face, “I like to feel the book beneath my fingers. To smell the paper. To get that rising expectation as you start to run out of pages towards the end of the story.”
Cody couldn’t say he understood, but the normally reserved turtle’s face had briefly softened into something more open, more honest, as he spoke about his love of reading. It was the kind of look Donnie got when faced with a new machine, or Mikey got when he held a new comic book, or Raph got when he talked about wrestling. It was a spark of passion, of love for something other than ninjutsu.
It was the same spark that Cody felt collecting memorabilia about the Turtles.
He made sure the penthouse’s shelves were stocked with physical books after that.
And yet, such unfiltered emotion was rare to see on Leonardo’s face.
It wasn’t that he was emotionless: far from it. Leo still laughed and joked with his brothers, still rolled his eyes when Serling tried to put a stop to their fun, still commiserated with Cody when his attempts to get the time window to work failed (again). But the more Cody saw of Leonardo, the more he started to realise that the turtle in blue never got truly angry, never lost his cool, never got openly upset or visibly scared.
“Fearless leader,” Raphael called him, but Cody wasn’t so sure. To the boy, Leo’s performance felt more like… well, just that. A performance. A carefully curated presentation of Leonardo. A figurehead, more than a person. A representation with ideals to uphold at all times, as opposed to someone… real.
Everyone wore a mask (and Cody didn’t just mean the Turtles’ colour-coded bandanas). The boy himself knew far too well what it meant to be the face of his late parents’ company: always presentable, always polite, always perfect in the public eye. He knew what it meant to have responsibility and expectation thrust upon his young shoulders.
Maybe that was why he noticed it in Leonardo. But where Cody could let the persona drop once he was back inside the privacy of his own home, Leonardo did not. Admittedly, the penthouse wasn’t exactly ‘home’ to the mutant family; not like their lair had been. But even among his brothers and father – the people he felt most comfortable with – Leo still never let the iron control on his exterior slip.
And that bothered Cody. He did everything he could to make sure Master Splinter and the Turtles were comfortable in his home (after all, it was his fault they were stuck here). And though they were very much outside of their comfort zone, the little mutant family seemed to be making the best of their situation.
All except Leonardo, who never seemed to show how he really felt.
Cody tentatively approached each of the family with his concerns.
“That’s just Leo,” Don had assured him, “Just give him his space and he’ll be fine.”
“Don’t let it bother ya’, kid,” Raph had grunted, dismissively, “It’s nothing personal. He’s like that with everyone.”
“Yeah, that’s Leo, alright,” Mikey had grinned, “Hey, did I tell you about the time I snuck up on him while he was practicing his katas…?”
“How am I supposed to know what goes on inside their puny reptilian minds?” Serling had scoffed as he swept up yet another broken vase.
Master Splinter hadn’t said anything, at first. He had just observed Cody with those piercing dark eyes of his. The boy got the distinct feeling that Splinter could see well beyond his surface.
“Why don’t you ask him, young Cody?” the old rat had said, at last.
“I, uh…” Cody floundered, caught off guard by the question, “I didn’t know if he’d want to talk about it. With me, I mean…”
Master Splinter’s look was unreadable. “One can only ask,” was all he replied.
It seemed that if Cody wanted answers, his only option was to go directly to the source.
And yet, actually confronting Leo felt like an impossible task. Where did he even start? What could he say that wouldn’t sound accusatory or intrusive? The last thing he wanted to do was make any of them feel uncomfortable or like they were being forced to open up. So, Leo kept his feelings close to his chest. Was that really such a bad thing?
And it wasn’t as if Cody had experience with delicate conversations himself. Not when he could count on one hand the number of people he actually knew to talk to, before the Turtles had shown up. His largely isolated upbringing did not go hand in hand with developing glowing communication skills.
Cody hesitated. Maybe the others were right, and he should just leave Leonardo to his own devices. He wasn’t hurting anyone. And they were all entitled to their privacy.
…Though, was it really privacy when he had his great-grandparents’ journal full of personal anecdotes of the Turtles’ lives?
Cody had grown up with the heroic accounts of the Mutant Ninja Turtles that had been so integral to Casey Jones’ and April O’Neil’s lives. As far back as he could recall, he’d been hearing tales of their adventures.
About everything that happened to them through the years – the first-time humanity had irrefutable proof of alien life when the Triceratons followed the Turtles back to Earth. How his great-grandmother co-founded O’Neil Tech with Donatello. How April and Casey had met in the first place thanks to the Turtles. How Donatello’s early inventions had formed the baseline for a lot of modern technology – from reliable subterranean communication networks to crystal-based vaccine serums. How the Turtles had saved the planet numerous times, only to receive no recognition as they were forced to hide in the shadows, revealing themselves to only a select few that they could trust.
Stories stemming all the way back to how the Turtles had saved his great-grandmother’s life in the sewers on the day they met.
It was an odd feeling to think about how Cody wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for the Turtles…
Cody had been hearing their stories before he learnt how to read. He’d grown up with them. Even though they’d lived 100 years into his past, it had felt like they were right there with him.
Almost as if they were his brothers…
Of course, actually meeting them in person had been eye-opening. His great-grandparents’ diary had been comprehensive, but it couldn’t capture the nuance of who the Turtles were in everyday life.
It hadn’t mentioned the little giggle-snort that Michelangelo gave on the rare occasion when a joke genuinely caught him off guard. It couldn’t accurately describe the way Donatello’s eyes sparkled as the idea for a new invention struck him. It didn’t talk about Raphael’s tell of scratching the back of his neck whenever he wanted to say something heartfelt but was worried about coming across as ‘cheesy’ or ‘sappy’ to his brothers.
And it hadn’t mentioned the way Leonardo sat with silence as if it was a close friend, the waters of his mind running impossibly deep behind his unreadable eyes.
Finally getting to meet the Turtles in person had been like meeting a childhood idol (in a way, they were). But that also meant that the way Cody felt about them was not the way the Turtles felt about him.
To them, he wasn’t a lifelong companion and adoptive brother. He was just a distant descendant of their human friends – one they had zero way of knowing about, especially as he wouldn’t even be born until a good 86 years into their future!
They’d welcomed him into their family with open arms, of course – the same way they’d welcomed others the diary mentioned such as Leatherhead, Angel and Professor Honeycutt. But there was still that disconnect – of Cody knowing so much about them when they knew comparatively little about him – that could only be resolved with time.
Cody couldn’t throw himself at them and expect the Turtles to treat him like a long-lost friend. They were friendly enough, sure, but in a reserved, polite kind of way, like meeting a distant relative for the first time. As much as it pained him, Cody couldn’t expect them to feel the same way about him. And, though Serling and Uncle Darius shielded him from the worst of them, as something of a public figure and celebrity himself, the boy was sadly no stranger to the realities of parasocial relationships. He didn’t want to be that to the Turtles.
It was tricky. This whole situation was… unique.
But unique situations sometimes present unique opportunities.
It had been a busy day, with Starlee eagerly giving the family a guided tour of O’Neil Tech, and then the Turtles’ first real opportunity to experience a meal out at a restaurant in New York City. Okay, so maybe it had been a fast-food restaurant rather than a fine dining experience, but it still made a change for them to be able to sit inside the building with all the other customers.
Through it all, Leo had smiled politely, joined the conversation where appropriate, and otherwise seemed engaged with the activities. But now that Cody knew to look for it, he spotted how Leo’s smile was just a bit plastic, how his additions to the conversation were just a little too rehearsed, how his engagement never quite seemed to reach his eyes. It was strikingly similar to the mask Cody wore whenever he had to make an appearance at a company event:
Artificial.
When they returned to the penthouse, Mikey had called dibbs on the 3D holo-screen, Don had hung back to tweak the Hovershell’s gyrostabilisers, Raph had settled in his room to read an article he’d found about the annual Centri-Fuze Road Rally, and Master Splinter had retreated to his rooftop garden. Cody hadn’t even noticed Leo slip away until he looked round and the turtle was nowhere to be seen.
“The blue one is in the dojo,” Serling sniffed. His tone might have sounded haughty to others, but Cody had known the robot practically his whole life. If ever there was an opportunity to talk to Leo, it was now.
“Thanks, Serling,” he’d flashed a grateful smile and hurried off to find the turtle.
…Only to falter when he finally reached the doors to the dojo. What was Cody even supposed to say? Should he really interrupt Leo in the middle of his training or meditation session? Their leader deserved to unwind just as much as his brothers did.
Cody lingered. Maybe another time would be better… Maybe he should-
He turned to walk away, and the motion accidentally brushed his hand over the door’s sensor panel. The system registered his bio signature immediately and the doors slid open with a soft hiss as the pneumatic locks disengaged.
A wall of noise almost knocked him off his feet.
It was chaos. The buzz of flying arrows was rivalled only by the ringing clash of metal on metal. Sparks lit up the dark room in bursts of violent light, briefly outlining the shapes of dozens of figures. It was impossible to get a feel for just how many there were.
For half a second, Cody felt like he’d walked into the middle of one of Mikey’s Helix playthroughs. But the environment was wrong, and there weren’t any laser guns being fired. This was far from the meditative waterfall or composed training room that he’d been expecting.
In fact, this almost looked like… old downtown New York…?
A stray arrow whizzed past his head, rudely snapping him out of his thoughts. Cody knew there was no actual ammunition in the dojo, but his instincts still reacted to the hologram as though the threat was real. The boy threw himself to the ground, hands over his head as though they could provide him any protection. Unfortunately, the movement caught the attention of several of the room’s occupants.
Two figures, clothed in black with a distinctive red symbol on their belts, broke off from the main crowd and turned on him. Cody yelped and scrambled to his feet as his eyes fell on their weapons. Their sharp, deadly looking weapons.
It’s not real, Cody tried to tell himself. None of this is real. But his sympathetic nervous system wasn’t listening. His heartbeat was almost louder than the battle exploding around him. Sweat already plastered his hair to his forehead. His mouth was dryer than the surface of Mars.
“C-computer!” he yelped, backing away from the shadowy figures advancing on him, katanas raised to strike, “H-halt- argh!”
The blade narrowly missed his head as Cody leapt out of the way. It’s just a hard-light hologram. It’s not real, his mind pleaded, but his body wouldn’t believe him. He tripped over his own feet as he landed awkwardly, forced to roll out of the way of another swipe. He couldn’t do anything like this. He had to get away. He had to get to cover.
Without thinking, Cody scrambled to his feet and ran. He could feel the two ninjas on his heels. He had to shake them. He had to hide. Where-
He collided with something solid and immovable. His face met steel, and his back hit the floor. The jolt barely registered as his eyes fell on two
long
curved
sharp
blades
that glinted in the low light, protruding from a gauntlet that was lifting towards the blackened sky.
A gauntlet, attached to a suit of metal armour, with a distinctive spiked helmet…
…And glowing red eyes.
The Shredder.
Cody gasped, vision frozen on that bladed gauntlet, as it swung towards him. All he could do was squeeze his eyes shut and brace for impact-
“Computer! Halt program!”
The noise stopped like a gunshot: one moment it was there, the next it was gone, replaced with an echoing silence that made Cody’s head spin. Or maybe that was his stomach turning. He couldn’t quite tell. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears. Was it his heart? Was he even still alive?
“Cody!”
The shout made him snap his eyes open. He knew that voice. He turned his head, and there was Leo, kneeling beside him, hands poised to grab him.
“Are you hurt??”
Cody barely registered the question. Leo was there, and the Shredder was…
…The Shredder wasn’t moving.
No one else was moving.
The battle had stilled; it’s combatants immobile. Paused in time, as if…
… As if none of this was real.
Cody slumped. It wasn’t real. It was just all just a hologram. Just a simulation.
Just a program.
“Cody?”
Right, Leo was talking to him. The unfiltered concern made Cody wince. He’d really messed up this time…
“I…I’m ok. I’m not hurt,” he gasped, only now realising how ragged his breaths were.
Calloused hands touched him gently, careful movements and practiced eyes checking him for injury, nonetheless. Relief was heavy in Leonardo’s voice when he spoke again.
“What were you doing here, Cody?”
The boy couldn’t help cringing, slightly. Even though there was no accusation in Leo’s tone, Cody could still hear the unspoken reprimand.
You could have gotten seriously hurt.
“I, I’m sorry, Leo. I didn’t mean to interrupt your training. I was just coming to find you, and…”
His voice petered out. They both knew how that had almost ended.
Leonardo gave him a long look. It was so hard to figure out what was going on behind those stoic eyes. Was he angry? Upset? Disappointed? Insulted? Cody couldn’t tell.
“Computer,” the turtle said at last, “End program.”
The environment dissolved instantly, holograms winking out to reveal the bright lights of the holo-dojo instead. The Shredder and his Foot ninja also vanished, faceless battle bots left standing motionless in their place. The only trace of the program left was the sweat on Leo and Cody’s brows.
Leonardo stood in one fluid motion, his hand extended to help Cody up. The boy accepted the help, surprised at how his knees wobbled slightly once he was back on his own two feet again.
“Take it easy,” Leo advised, not letting go of his arm just yet. Cody could only offer a chagrined nod of thanks.
“Come on,” the turtle tugged at his arm gently, and Cody followed him out of the dojo without a word.
“Here you go,” the teacup clinked softly as Leo set it down on the table in front of Cody, “Something sweet will help with the shock.”
The aroma of honey tea curled around Cody like a soothing blanket. Though not normally his beverage of choice, he couldn’t deny that it had a calming effect on his nerves as he carefully sipped the hot brew. Tea was one of the first things Leo and Master Splinter had insisted on getting when it became clear the Turtles would be here for the foreseeable future.
A fond smile nudged at Leonardo’s beak. “You know,” he said, softly, “I made some sweet tea for April the first time we met, too.”
Cody knew the tale well. How the Turtles had saved his great-grandmother from the Mousers and brought her back to their lair to recover. It had been one of his favourite bedtime stories growing up.
He’d never expected to have a similar experience.
“I’m really sorry, Leo,” he sighed, setting his cup down on the table in front of him as he spoke. “I messed up your training, and now you’re looking after me instead of doing what you want to do.”
Leonardo looked at him with that same unreadable expression again. “What makes you think I don’t want to be here with you?” he said, at last. There was no bite or edge to his voice, just simple, honest question.
Cody shook his head, roughly. “You shouldn’t have to be. I disturbed your training. I wandered into your program like an idiot and almost got myself hurt. I know not to go into the dojo when there’s a program running, yet I did it anyway. I’m so stupid!”
“Hey,” a hand on his arm, and somehow Leo’s voice was even calmer, “Anyone would be disoriented to walk into the middle of a battle like that. I’m just glad that you’re not hurt.”
“…thanks to you…” Cody’s voice was small, meek, humbled. He didn’t like having to be rescued, especially not from a situation he’d caused himself.
“Anytime,” Leo said, gently.
But the sentiment hung heavily in the air. How could he promise to be there for Cody anytime, when the Turtles didn’t even belong in this time to begin with? What would happen when they finally got home again? Who would protect him then?
There were no easy answers to that. Cody stared down into his cooling teacup. Leo shifted ever so slightly.
“You said you were looking for me?” he asked, eventually. It wasn’t a subtle change to the conversation, but it was relevant.
“Yeah… I was,” Cody still hesitated. Was now the right time? After what just happened? But they had the kitchen to themselves, and he already knew that the turtle wasn’t going to let him go without finding out what was on his mind. This seemed like as good a chance as any. It was now or never…
“…Leo? That… that program you were running… Was that… the Shredder?”
Leonardo paused. They both knew that Cody didn’t have to ask – he had one of the Utrom Shredder’s suits in his memorabilia room, after all. The real question lingered unspoken.
“Yes,” Leo answered, eventually, “It was.”
For a moment, the room was quiet. Sounds that the brain normally filtered out, like the slow drip of coffee into the pot, or the quiet hum of the refrigerator, took over to fill the weighted silence. From the living room, they could just hear the faint noises of Mikey’s videogame.
“…Why were you fighting the Shredder?” Cody’s voice fell to barely more than a whisper, but he knew the turtle heard him. “That didn’t look like training…”
Leo sighed, his shoulders sagging wearily. For a beat, Cody worried that he’d pushed too hard. Leo was entitled to his secrets. He didn’t owe Cody an explanation. He had every right to say, “that’s private” and end the conversation there.
But he didn’t.
“You’re right,” Leo’s voice was quiet, his tone subdued, his eyes fixed on his own hands, “That wasn’t my training program. I was… I was running a battle simulation of the Foot clan.”
That much was evident. The real answers flickered just below the surface, like the silhouettes of fish in a pond. Cody was all too aware that a wrong move now would scatter them entirely.
“…Why?” he prompted gently, when no more was said.
Leo’s eyes closed, the only sign of tension being the crease between his brows, and he drew a steadying breath. “Because… it gives me purpose.”
Now it was Cody’s turn to frown. “What do you mean, Leo?”
Leo sighed again, the words clinging stubbornly to his tongue, fighting to remain unspoken. It seemed to be a real effort to get them out. “The future… It’s so… safe.”
Wait, what? The Turtles hadn’t been here long, and already Mikey had nearly been caught up in an alien trafficking ring, and Viral had attacked them in their own dojo.
“I know there are still threats,” Leo clarified, as if he could read Cody’s mind. Or maybe he was just reading the confusion on Cody’s face. “But it’s not like our time. We don’t have to keep to the shadows or only venture out at night. And the Foot Clan and Purple Dragons are history here. Ordinary people can see us in broad daylight and not even bat an eyelid.”
“… I …thought that would be a good thing?”
“It is!” the turtle hurried to assure him, “Don’t get me wrong; it’s great that we don’t have to constantly watch our backs or keep out of sight here. …I just…”
Leonardo trailed off, his voice getting caught in his throat. With a start, Cody saw something like pain flash across the turtle’s face. For a second, he feared it was physical pain. Was Leo hiding an injury? Was he the one that had gotten hurt?
And then, like a cog clicking into place in a machine, Cody realised what Leo was trying to say.
The reserved exterior.
The dojo simulation.
The way he never truly let his guard down, even among the safety of his own family.
Leonardo couldn’t relax, because he kept expecting trouble to find them.
“…You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop,” Cody said. No judgement. Just understanding.
Leonardo still winced, anyway. “I know we’re safe,” he stressed, “Or, at least, as safe as we can be. And I’m not doubting your security or Master Splinter’s training. It’s just…”
A phrase from the journal bubbled to the surface of Cody’s mind. It was something he’d seen mentioned again and again, as if it was some sort of universal truth. “Turtle Luck,” he quoted, simply.
Leo blinked at him, momentarily taken aback. The surprise faded as a rueful smile tugged at his beak. “…I keep forgetting you have that diary…” His voice held no accusation or resentment; he didn’t begrudge the boy his knowledge. Still, it was another reminder of the divide between them and him.
“I’ve spent my whole life fighting for my right – my family’s right – to just exist,” Leo explained, as if he was confessing some deep, dark secret, “And now, all of a sudden, we’re here, and nothing is out to get us. I don’t…
He trailed off, shame flickering across his eyes. Cody again felt his inexperience weigh upon his shoulders – should he reach out to give a reassuring touch? Offer a hug? Or would it be more appropriate to hold back? He simply couldn’t tell.
“…I don’t know who I am if I’m not fighting to keep my family safe,” Leonardo admitted, quietly.
And there it was. No more mask, no more shield, no more wall to hide behind. Just the bare, exposed reality of what Leonardo was struggling with. His raw anxiety laid bare for examination.
A fish out of water.
If Leonardo wasn’t a warrior anymore – didn’t need to be – then who was he?
Cody’s heart hurt for the turtle. To have his whole identity tied up in being a ninja, only to suddenly have the need to be a ninja stripped away from him without warning, must have been disorienting, to say the least.
Cody could only imagine what it would feel like if he suddenly wasn’t an inventor, anymore. Machines and technology were his passion. To lose the very thing that he felt defined by, the very thing he built his identity around, must be crushing.
Yes, Leonardo’s brothers and father were ninjas, too. But they were also so much more. Donnie was a genius, an inventor, an engineer. Mikey was a joker, a creative soul, a social butterfly. Raph was a boxer, a mechanic, a supportive pillar to his family. And Splinter was a father, a provider, a confidant. They were ninjas, yes. But ninjutsu didn’t define them.
Not in the way it did Leo.
And yet…
“Your fight doesn’t make you who you are, Leo,” Cody stepped carefully, afraid to press on the exposed nerves that the turtle had laid bare, but desperate to lift his mindset, “You’re more than a ninja, especially to your family. You’re a brother. You’re a son. You’re a good friend. You don’t stop being any of those things just because you don’t have to lead them into battle now.”
Leo smiled ruefully, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Cody grabbed his hand, suddenly worried that he’d pull away and close himself off again.
“And more than that. You’re a reader, Leo. You’re a thinker. You’re a planner. Those skills can be turned to just about anything. They’re not limited to fighting.”
Hesitant eyes met his, and without the façade now, Cody was almost taken aback by the fragile hope reflected in Leonardo’s gaze. It was raw, and delicate, and uncharacteristically timid for the fearless turtle. But more than anything else, it was desperate.
Leo needed to be more than just a ninja.
And Cody Jones knew how to help him.
“When you talked about books,” Cody offered, gently, “I could see how much you loved reading. That… passion, it was so good to see. I felt like I was meeting the real Leo for the first time.”
The turtle’s brows lifted in quiet surprise. Cody watched as the realisation filtered into Leonardo’s brain, as the sediment of his mind shifted around this new truth.
“You don’t have to be ‘just a ninja’, Leo. You’re more than that. It’s ok to be more than that.”
Cody knew it would take time. He’d never been much of a horticulturist before, but since Splinter had set up his rooftop garden, Cody had learned a thing or two from watching the old rat. Any change would disrupt the system, even minutely. The soil had to have a chance to settle, the roots to sink in and anchor themselves properly. If they wanted it to survive, the plant would have to be nurtured, tended to, cared for.
But with help, it could grow stronger than ever.
Leonardo had help. He had his brothers. He had his father. And now, he had Cody, too.
Those eyes – those previously guarded, unreadable eyes – turned to him, and Cody saw an inner peace he hadn’t even realised had been missing until now.
“Thanks, Cody,” Leonardo said, softly.
And Cody knew he meant it.