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It was impossible to miss the scar carved out of Leonardo’s shell.
Among the only four beings of their kind, the imperfection stood out like a sore thumb. Three symmetrical carapaces (albeit covered in nicks and scratches from many a battle).
And one forever marred.
Cody knew the story, of course. His great-grandparents’ journal had talked at length about how it had happened and the lasting effects of that day on the small family. In fact, that battle had been the catalyst that inspired April O’Neil and Casey Jones to start writing a record of the Turtles’ lives in the first place.
Coming so close to losing the whole mutant family for good had been quite the wake-up call. For everyone.
So, there was no need for Cody to ask. He already knew the full account. He’d seen the family photos included in the journal. He’d read about the pain and suffering – both physical and emotional – that had resulted.
By the time Cody actually met the Turtles, Leonardo’s scar was just another factor in their lives. It was there – healing slowly with new growth, though unlikely to ever fully disappear. His family didn’t ignore it. But it wasn’t made a big deal out of. No one treated Leo as if he was any more fragile than the rest of them because of it.
The family simply did what they did best: adapted.
So, Cody tried to, as well.
There were a lot of other things to focus on – from helping the family adapt to and navigate life in 22nd century New York City, to keeping an eye out for the trouble that seemed intrinsically drawn to the Turtles, no matter what time period they were currently in. Cody’s life had certainly never been livelier!
And yet, his eyes still strayed to the gash of missing keratin from Leo’s shell. It was hard not to look at it and recall all the pain and turmoil that the journal had recounted. But Cody always tore his eyes away again quickly whenever he caught himself staring. The last thing he wanted was the turtle thinking that Cody pitied him.
But, like a lot of things nowadays, it didn’t stay that way for long.
Their night out had not gone how any of them had planned. When Mikey had promised an authentic horror movie experience in a real traditional cinema, Cody had not been expecting to actually experience the horrors for himself! But thanks to the timely arrival of Turtle X, and the brothers’ own skills once they had found their feet, they soon sent that shadow creep Sh’Okanabo packing.
It was a sore, tired and considerably sticky group (no one had been spared the dark goop that Sh’Okanabo had fought with) that returned to the penthouse, but at least they were all in one piece. Master Splinter and Serling were not amused. Baths and bed were ordered all round.
Cody used the shower last. As Serling pointed out, it was only good manners to let his guests go first. Though, Master Splinter had also felt the need to remind his sons not to use up all the hot water on their turns. Dressed in fresh pyjamas and with the mint of his toothpaste still lingering on his tongue, Cody Jones headed for bed.
But something stilled his feet as he neared Leonardo’s room.
Maybe it was the crack of light still peeking out around the door. Maybe it was the gentle snores coming from his brothers’ rooms, while Leo’s was absolutely silent.
Or maybe it was a lingering unease from the night’s events.
Leo was probably just reading or meditating before bed. It wouldn’t be the first time. They all wound down in different ways, and he probably wouldn’t appreciate his routine being disrupted. Cody should leave the turtle in peace.
And yet, some unknown compulsion still lifted Cody’s hand to the door. He paused just before touching the smooth surface, memories of interrupting Leo’s training in the dojo replaying before his eyes. But still, he could not shake the strange feeling in his gut.
His knuckles rapped meekly on the door. Somehow, the quiet apartment grew even quieter, as if the walls were holding their breath.
“Leo?” he called softly, so as not to wake anyone else, “It’s me, Cody. Can I come in?”
There was a long pause. Cody was just starting to think maybe Leo was sleeping after all when the door’s lock disengaged with a soft hiss.
He waited, but no one came to the door. Tentatively, Cody waved his hand over the sensor pad, and the door slid open.
Leonardo’s room was identical to the other guestrooms in Cody’s penthouse. Truthfully, the apartment hadn’t been built with 5 separate guestrooms: there simply had never been the need for so many, especially as Cody rarely had guests to fill them. But the moment he realised he’d pulled the Turtles and their Sensei forward into his timeline, Cody had set the spare server-droid to refurbish the spacious guestroom into 5 small individual rooms, knowing the time travellers would need somewhere safe to stay until they could go back home, while Serling had taken the car out to retrieve their misplaced guests. He’d ended up having more time to oversee the building work than he’d originally expected, but it had worked out in the end, and now each of the Turtles and their Master had a private space to rest.
Each room was just big enough for a bed, a small nightstand and lamp, a desk and a chair to sit at. There had been little point in giving the Turtles any wardrobe space (Cody knew all too well how they felt about clothing). Their host would have liked to give them all more room, but at least they had the whole penthouse to roam. And if he could just get the time window working again, they wouldn’t have to put up with the cramped living space for much longer…
Leo was sat at his desk with a self-heating compress clutched to his left shoulder. His bed was still immaculately made, untouched from the morning. In fact, his room was so tidy that the assortment of long-handled brushes and washcloths on his desk were immediately obvious as out of place. He’d made no attempt to hide them.
“Leo?” Cody asked, concern replacing caution as he stepped into the room, “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine, Cody,” Leonardo’s voice was tight as his eyes lifted to give the boy an apologetic look. “It’s nothing to worry about.”
He didn’t look or sound fine. His brows – much more noticeable now that he’d removed his signature blue mask – were pinched, and his eyes were heavy and tense. A light sheen of pained sweat glossed his green scales.
“Just cleaning up,” he tried again.
Leo had been the first to shower. He should be long finished. But the brushes and cloths were soiled.
It looked like he’d been at this for hours.
Cody hesitated to mention the heat pad still pressed to Leo’s shell, but they both knew he’d seen it. “Is it your shoulder? Are you having a flare up?”
He’d read about those in his great-grandparents’ diary, too. It had taken a long time for the family to realise that the broken scute over Leonardo’s shoulder had left him with lasting pain and sensitivity in that area: mostly because he’d kept it strictly to himself. No one had been happy when the truth came out. His scar was especially susceptible to cold, but pressure in just the wrong spot could make it hurt, as well.
“Can I see?” Cody asked, gently.
The turtle had every right to refuse, but he didn’t. Leo hesitated, but then wordlessly removed the hot compress from his shoulder and turned to give Cody a better view. The exposed part of his shell – the ‘basal lamina’ Cody’s bio scans informed him - had a pinkish undertone where the heat pad had been opening up the blood vessels to flow more easily. But it was something else that caught his eye.
Where part of the epidermal layer had been violently ripped away by Karai’s attack, leaving the scarred basal lamina open to the elements, there were telltale lines of dark purple smeared in between the crevasses. Sh’Okanabo’s goop was embedded deep into the exposed grooves. The inflamed ridges and long-handled brushes told a damning tale of a turtle who’d tried to sort them out himself, but the angle must have been impossible to reach them properly on his own.
“Why didn’t you ask for help?” Cody was not trying to sound accusing, honest! But Leo winced, and Cody was reminded of how a lifetime of growing up as the sheltered heir of a billion-dollar company had left his social skills somewhat lacking.
“I can handle it,” he murmured, gaze drifting back to the cleaning supplies on his desk, “It’s fine.”
The evidence suggested otherwise. Cody didn’t want to make the situation more awkward, but he couldn’t just drop it. Not when his friend looked to be in distress.
“What about the Sani-Lav 2150?” The robotic personal grooming assistant in the bathroom would at least have a better chance of reaching the spots Leo couldn’t get to by himself.
“It’s, uh… not working.”
Cody couldn’t suppress a small sigh. “Raph broke it again?” That would mark the second time this week. He was starting to wonder if there was much point in continually getting the droid repaired.
“In his defence,” Leo pointed out, weakly, “We’re not used to hearing anyone else’s voice in the privacy of the bathroom.” Add in ninja reflexes, and the results spoke for themselves.
The turtle winced again as he shifted but otherwise didn’t make a noise.
Cody couldn’t help wondering how long Leo had been suffering in silence. “Have you taken anything for the pain?”
Leo nodded. “Good to know ibuprofen still exists in the year 2105.” From the tightness of his voice, it hadn’t completely eased all of the sharp ache. Cody would have to look into something stronger that would be safe for the turtle’s metabolism.
Cody’s eyes strayed from the scar tissue on Leo’s shoulder to the brushes and cloths on his desk. He dithered, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. The turtle had been at this for hours. He was already hurting, and he hadn’t had a chance to rest properly from the fight earlier. Cody’s gaze returned to the embedded goop deep within Leo’s shell. His mind was made up.
“Can I help?” he asked, and then quickly added, “I’ll be gentle.”
Leo wilted slightly before his eyes. The journal had talked candidly about how hard Leonardo found it to ask for and accept help, even before his injury. His misconceptions about being self-reliant and not a ‘burden’ on others were much more deeply ingrained than the dirt in his scar. And, whilst he’d made a lot of progress with the help of his family and The Ancient One, it was not unusual for anyone to fall back into bad habits in times of stress.
“I didn’t want anyone to worry…” he explained quietly, eyes downcast in defeat.
Cody opted not to point out how that had backfired. Instead, he chose to take that as permission. Wordlessly, he chose a brush and positioned himself behind the turtle’s chair where he could reach the scar properly. “Is this ok?” he checked as he rested the bristles against the exposed ridges of basal lamina.
“You can scrub quite firmly,” Leo assured him, without turning to look, “You won’t hurt the new keratin.”
Cody was much more concerned about hurting the turtle himself. He started off lightly, barely brushing over the scarred grooves. But when Leo didn’t react, and the dirt refused to shift, Cody began to apply a little more pressure to the brush.
Slowly, slowly, the purple-black goop began to lift and pull away. It was still tacky underneath the hardened outer surface, and Cody found that he really had to dig to dislodge it. No wonder Leo hadn’t been able to do it alone. As globs of the stuff peeled away, Cody used a washcloth to wipe them off, before returning to scrub with the brush. Thankfully there was no sign of infection underneath, though he made a mental note to run another scan of everyone in the morning, just to make sure they hadn’t been affected by the alien material.
Leo remained silent throughout the process, but every so often he would wince as the bristles caught a particularly sensitive spot. Cody apologised each time, but the turtle waved him off.
“I’ve had a lot worse,” he insisted.
That wasn’t particularly comforting. Cody was acutely aware that the versions of the Turtles that he’d accidentally pulled forward into his time were very much still teenagers, barely a couple of years older than himself. To think that they were already used to pain was disturbing, to say the least.
Cody deliberately chose to focus on what he could do about it.
“Y’know, modern medicine has come a long way in the last hundred years,” he offered, injecting a more positive note into his voice, “While we haven’t yet reached complete limb regeneration, the technology is there to regrow small patches of tissue. Like your scute, for instance.”
The suggestion hung heavily in the air. Like Leo’s scar, Cody was just as compelled to fill the awkward silence that followed his suggestion, but he bit his tongue to keep himself quiet. The mutant family barely had access to medical care in their own time, and what they did have was extremely limited by their circumstances and unique biology. The thought of seeking external aid here in 2105 probably hadn’t even occurred to any of them. Cody was careful not to rush his friend’s thought process.
But when Leo finally replied, it was to shake his head.
“I appreciate the offer, Cody. But I can’t accept.”
“Why not?” Cody was stunned, his cleaning stilling as he objected, “You wouldn’t have to deal with situations like this anymore, and while the nerve regeneration may not completely cure the pain, it would be sure to significantly ease it.”
Leonardo sighed audibly through his nose. “It’s not that simple…”
“Then why?” his young host asked, incredulously, “I don’t understand. Don’t you want to be in peak condition as a ninja?”
The turtle winced again, though this time the brush was no longer touching him. “I’m aware that my injury makes me… vulnerable,” he admitted, biting down painfully on the word. Without his mask to obscure his eyes, the ache within was all too obvious. “But I… I can’t.”
“Leo…?” Cody’s voice softened in sympathy as he moved round to face the turtle properly.
Leonardo’s next sigh was full of immense weight and grief. It buckled his shoulders and pressed down on his stiff neck, lowering his heavy head. He wouldn’t meet Cody’s eyes, but the boy still saw a deep sorrow and regret within that rarely, if ever, was allowed to show through the self-built mask. He’d certainly never seen the turtle look so… broken.
Leo’s right hand lifted to clutch his left shoulder, fingers covering the silvery scar that etched his skin. Hiding it. Protecting it. Reliving it.
“This scar…,” he explained, “… It’s a reminder. …Of everything that happened.”
Cody frowned. “Your scar doesn’t define you, Leo,” he argued. He thought the turtle was passed blaming himself for that fateful last stand, “What happened on Saki’s ship wasn’t your fault.”
“I know,” Leo replied, sincerely, “Trust me, I know. Don’t worry, I’m not falling back into that dark spiral.” But his gaze remained averted.
Cody frowned. He wasn’t entirely convinced. “Please,” he urged, the pain in his chest pouring out in his voice, “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Don’t shut everyone out again.
Leonardo grimaced, every muscle bunching under the strain. In the thick silence, his enviro-pack hummed gently from its recharging port on his desk. When he spoke at last, his voice was barely more than a whisper, a hushed confession.
“…I put my trust in the wrong person,” he admitted, as his finger traced the notch in his shell where Karai’s blade – his blade, in her hand – had run him through. “And it nearly cost me my whole family. Twice.”
Cody opened his mouth to object. There was a hollowness – a lasting grief – in Leonardo’s voice that gave him pause. It was the grief of old scars, of friendships ended, and regrets that couldn’t be erased.
But the turtle continued before he could speak up.
“This scar…” Leo explained, hesitantly. Was he struggling for the right words? Or – more likely – struggling to give them voice? “It’s became a part of who I am. …They say every scar tells a story. This… this is mine.”
Finally, his eyes lifted to meet Cody’s. In a rare retraction of his nictitating membrane, Leo’s pupils were raw and honest, a view into his soul that he normally kept hidden even from those closest to him. In most lights the Turtles’ irises looked black or dark brown, but up close like this, Cody could see the deep, vulnerable green at their centre.
“…It’s proof that I survived to tell the tale. That I’m still here. The real me, not the me that came back from Saki’s ship. It’s my reminder of what – who’s – really important.”
And finally, like a coin dropping down to activate a mechanism, a sense of understanding clicked into place for young Cody Jones. Truthfully, he could never wholly understand what the turtle was talking about; because he wasn’t there. He could know about it, through his great-grandparents’ recount. But he hadn’t lived it. As often as he’d read those entries, and imagined himself there, Cody Jones hadn’t been on that star ship. He hadn’t been about to die with the mutant family. He hadn’t been in the position to make that impossible choice.
But still, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t understand what Leonardo was trying to say, on some level. His scar didn’t define him, but it was a part of his story. A reminder of what he’d overcome. A reminder that he could still be the kind, honourable individual he’d always been, despite what he’d been through. A reminder of what, and who, mattered to him. Not just his family (though that wasn’t to undersell their importance), but himself, too.
It was more than a mark of failure, or a point of weakness, or even a badge of honour.
It was a reminder, carved into his own body, of what he was fighting for.
“Ok,” Cody breathed, afraid to raise his voice and shatter the fragile air that had settled over the small room. He still struggled to understand Leonardo’s viewpoint fully, but he could respect the turtle’s wishes. “I won’t push it.”
“Thank you,” Leo sighed, the tension bleeding out of his body at last. With it gone, he suddenly looked absolutely exhausted, as though he could sleep for a week straight. He could get all the rest he wanted soon.
“Come on,” Cody picked up the brush again, “I’m almost finished.”
Nothing more was said about it in the morning.
When Cody got up, Leonardo was already in the dojo, doing his morning katas as per his usual routine. By the time he finished and trailed into the kitchen for breakfast – still ahead of his sleeping brothers – his literal and metaphorical masks were both firmly back in place, perfectly ordered and presentable again. Cody couldn’t see any leftover signs of the vulnerable turtle that he’d witnessed last night.
It was almost as if none of it had ever happened.
But Cody knew better. And his mind – well rested from the tiring day before - was already tripping over itself with thoughts and ideas and blueprints.
Leo didn’t want his shell fixed. But with the lives the Turtles lived, his unprotected basal lamina was going to get exposed to dirt and contaminants that he couldn’t reach to clean by himself. It was inevitable. Besides, that scar painted a literal target on his back for enemies. He may not like to admit it, but their foes were bound to focus their attacks on such an obvious weak spot. And all the training in the world wouldn’t protect him from a lucky hit.
What if there was some way to better protect the scarred area, without erasing it? Fibreglass would be too permanent. Maybe some kind of patch, or brace? Or perhaps…?
Cody got to work as soon as he’d finished eating. He couldn’t help it; inventing was in his blood. He locked himself away in his lab, reluctant to share his ideas with anyone else before he had something to present. When the Turtles asked, he merely claimed to be working on the time window. Don offered to help, but Cody turned him down. This was private; for Leo only. It was up to him whether he shared it with his family afterwards (if he even accepted Cody’s idea in the first place).
By the evening, Cody had a working prototype. He’d tested it out with hard light holograms. But the real test would be presenting it to the turtle in question.
He purposefully waited until Leo was alone again, without the risk of any of his family bursting in on the private moment. Cody didn’t want Leo to feel pressured by anyone else to accept the gift.
And so it was that the young heir to the O’Neil Tech foundation found himself in front of Leonardo’s bedroom door for a second night in a row. And, just like previously, he found himself hesitating.
Would Leo like what he’d made? Would he be offended? Would he feel that Cody had betrayed the trust he’d shown him yesterday? Perhaps this was a bad idea. Maybe he should just-
“You can come in, Cody.”
The boy jumped at Leo’s voice from behind the closed door. How had the turtle even known he was there? Ninja training, no doubt. Despite himself, Cody felt his excitement and awe bubble at the thought. But now wasn’t the time to, as Mickey would put it, ‘geek out’.
Steeling his nerves, Cody waved his hand over the sensor pad and opened the sliding pneumatic door. Once again, Leo was sat at his desk, though this time he had a book in his hands. He placed it facedown on the table to preserve his page and turned to look at Cody with his usual polite smile.
“What can I do for you, Cody?”
The boy dithered in the doorway, and Leonardo’s observant gaze was drawn to his hands that remained conspicuously hidden behind his back. The turtle lifted a brow in quiet suspicion.
“Do you have something to show me?”
Welp. There was no backing out now.
“You know what we talked about last night? About your, you know…” Cody gestured with an awkward shrug of his own left shoulder.
Leonardo’s expression didn’t change. “My scar,” he said simply, without accusation or embarrassment. A fact plainly stated: no more, no less.
Cody felt shame heat his own cheeks. If Leo wasn’t embarrassed by his scar, then Cody shouldn’t be, either. “R-right. Your scar. W-well, I know you said you don’t want to get it repaired, and I respect that. I would never push you to do something you don’t want to do. I’m not-”
“Cody.” Leo cut his growing rambling off, not unkindly. “Just tell me.”
Cody took a deep, steadying breath. It was now or never.
“I’ve never made something like this before. I usually work with moving parts and computer code. I made it to your exact measurements from your bio scans, but this is just a prototype. If it doesn’t feel ok, or if you want anything changed, just tell me.”
Slowly, he brought his hands out from behind his back to reveal the object he was holding. It was roughly triangular in shape and painted almost the exact shade of pale green as the turtle’s own shell.
“It’s a custom-built carbon fibre scute,” he explained, “Designed to fit exactly over your scar to form a seamless connection with your shell to keep out dirt and debris.”
Leonardo was staring at the artificial scute in stunned silence. His frozen reaction stirred up Cody’s nerves again.
“I’m not trying to erase your scar,” Cody explained, hurriedly, “You’ll have to get used to wearing it gradually, and you’ll need regular time with it off, so it doesn’t chafe or rub. You’ll also have to take it off to wash underneath it. But in day-to-day use, and especially in battle, it should keep the scar clean and help protect it from knocks and attacks.”
Slowly, carefully, he stepped forward and placed the custom scute into Leo’s palms. Cody had deliberately made it lightweight yet durable. Hopefully it could stand up to a ninja’s lifestyle. The material was clearly different to the mottled texture of Leo’s real shell. It would probably feel really weird to have something covering the basal lamina on that part of his shell after so long with it exposed. But the artificial plate should blend in almost seamlessly. Like a replacement puzzle piece completing a jigsaw.
Leo was still staring at the custom scute in his hands. He hadn’t said a word since Cody revealed it. Did he hate it?
“You don’t have to wear it,” Cody hastened to say, “It’s just an idea. I won’t be offended if you don’t like it.”
Finally, Leo’s gaze slowly rose to meet Cody’s. Gratitude and appreciation shone like tears in his eyes.
“Thank you, Cody,” he said quietly, but with utmost sincerity in his voice.
He… he liked it? The revelation took a moment to sink in. Cody found himself doublechecking the turtle’s expression, almost like verifying the results of a computer program. Had he misinterpreted the data? No. This wasn’t like any of those times when Cody politely accepted a gift from his uncle that he didn’t really want, but couldn’t bring himself to say so.
Leo’s reaction was genuine. He really liked it.
Cody rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. “It’s, um… you’re welcome.”
A gentle weight alighted on his shoulder. When he looked up he found that Leo had carefully set the scute down on his desk in order to place a warm hand on Cody’s arm. The smile on his face was soft and authentic.
Cody couldn’t help smiling back.