Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Splinter never told his children where they came from. They’d asked, of course. Of course they were curious. Of course they wanted to know how he’d found them, where they’d appeared from, why they were so different, but he never told. Whenever they’d ask, he would go pale and turn angry, snapping at them not to ask such questions or just turning up the volume on his TV show.

The three turtles had stopped asking years ago. They didn’t stop wondering, though.

Sometimes, late at night when he couldn’t sleep, Raph tried to remember. If he laid very still and strained his memory so much that it hurt, he could almost see something green, glowing, his tiny hand reaching for a small, formless shape in the shadows. A shape that he never reached.

Mikey sometimes awoke from nightmares that he just knew were about before. He’d sit up, gasping for air as he blinked away murky memories of green and fire and whispering, ‘You’re leaving him, don’t leave him’. He never knew who he was talking about.

Leo sometimes found himself feeling strangely lonely, like there was a piece of their family missing. He’d look up and expect to see someone standing next to him, only to see nothing. He felt something missing from his chest, a presence that he remembered but had never existed. Sometimes he worried he was going crazy.

The brothers never shared these thoughts with each other. Maybe if they had, they’d have found that missing piece sooner. But they didn’t.

“Land safely!” Leo cheered, landing in a graceful flip from the unexpected fall.

Mikey groaned and sat up. “Where are we?” he muttered, rubbing his head. “And where’s April?”

“Guys!” April called in a hushed voice, waving from behind a pillar. “Over here!”

“April!” Raph crowed, pushing Mikey off of him and hurrying to his feet. The three brothers tackled April in a hug. Mikey was just so relieved she hadn’t been hurt in the fall, he barely even noticed his surroundings until they pulled away.

Leo glanced around the dark, cavernous chamber. “So. . . where are we?” he ventured hesitantly.

“I’ve been looking around,” April explained excitedly. “We’re in a secret magic city under New York!”

“Coooooool!” Mikey gasped.

Raph cocked his head. “So, where’s the little guy?”

April tilted her head back towards an ominous lab, backlit by some murky green light. “He’s in there,” she murmured anxiously, eyes flickering over the intimidating structure. “I wasn’t able to follow him in. But,” she added, grinning deviously, “I found a huge room full of weapons, so we’ll be set!”

After the four of them had selected their new glowing weapons, they snuck into the terrifying building.

“Whoa,” Mikey whispered, eyes roving around the room. “This is so cool!”

“It looks like the setting of some Jupiter Jim-Dracula crossover,” Leo observed with a languid grin.

Raph shushed them and pointed to the console at the center of the room. The delivery rider from earlier was locked in a cage of vines, with the odd magical creature from earlier next to him. “There’s the little guy!”

Leo leaned forward. “What’s that guy doing?” he muttered, nodding to a huge monster (mutant?) striding into the room with two gargoyles perched on his shoulders. He leaned over the cage with the human and began speaking, but Mikey was watching the doorway he’d walked out of. Another figure lurked by the doorframe, eyes reflecting the glow from the central console. Mikey leaned over to point it out to his brothers, but a scream distracted them. He jumped and returned his attention to the human.

The human was gone.

In his place stood a grotesque fish creature. Long, floppy fingers, bulging eyes, slick scales. Even his voice turned to a gargled scream as he fled from the building.

April clapped a hand over her mouth. Raph’s eyes widened in horror. Mikey felt his stomach flip.

“Oh, that’s messed up,” Leo whispered.

The sheep creature straightened up, rubbing his chin. “The mutation worked!” he murmured in shock. He paused and turned back to the doorway. His smile was almost mocking. “Good news for you, I’d expect.”

Everyone’s attention turned to the doorway. The figure gave only a muted ‘Hm’ in response.

The sheep grinned. “Soon, all Yokai will praise the name of Baron Draxum!” he crowed triumphantly. He paused and turned back to the cat-creature in its cage. “Now, what to do with you?”

“Hey!” Raph shouted, standing to his full, intimidating height. Leo, Mikey, and April quickly took the cue to join him, posing with their new weapons and hoping they looked threatening. “Hand over the little guy,” Raph barked. “And nobody gets hurt!”

Leo tilted his head. “Shouldn’t we also stop him from making fish guys?”

Raph nodded. “Good note, good note. Okay, stop making fish guys –”

The dark figure in the doorway stepped into the light.

Mikey felt his stomach drop. “Guys,” he whispered.

Raph ignored him, pressing on. “– Give us the little guy, and –”

“Guys!” Mikey hissed. Leo finally turned to see what he was looking at. His eyes widened, red markings stretching with the movement.

“Raph,” Leo whispered, resting a hand on his brother’s arm.

Raph turned, looking annoyed and ready to scold the other two, when he froze, eyes locking with the figure on the floor below.

A turtle.

A mutant turtle.

He looked about their age.

He wore gauntlets and greaves, forged in a style similar to that of Baron Draxum’s armor. His broad shoulders were burdened with some sort of armored shell, outlined in maroon to match the mask over his eyes, though they clashed with his geometric purple markings. A couple sashes crisscrossed over his plastron. He carried a simple bo staff.

The four of them stared at him, and he stared back, cartoonish eyebrows drawing together slightly.

“Interesting. . .” the stranger murmured. There was no malice in his gaze or voice, just curiosity, fascination.

Mikey felt sick, looking at him, at the scars poking out from under his mask, the bruises partially hidden by the black bandages on his arms, the way he seemed to subconsciously lean away from Baron Draxum.

Mikey stood from his crouching position. A million questions ran through his head, and the one he asked didn’t seem like the most important. It didn’t even seem relevant. It barely made sense. But it was the only one his tongue could seem to form. “What happened to you?” he whispered.

The turtle returned his gaze. After a moment, he shrugged.

“Turtle!” Draxum snapped, glaring at him.

The stranger straightened up, appearing at Draxum’s side in a flash. His staff, which had before been held loosely at his side, was held in a ready stance. His eyes were narrow, fixed on the brothers and sister on the ledge.

“Do you know him?” April whispered.

“I. . .” Raph squinted. “I don’t. . . know. . .”

“Impressive, isn’t he?” Baron Draxum drawled, resting a hand on the stranger’s head. The turtle stiffened but didn’t move. “He’s the only one of my creations that wasn’t stolen by that cheat,” he snarled. He turned his gaze back to them. “You could be just as strong as him,” Draxum continued. “Join me, turtles, and we will rid the world of the human blight of the surface! We will free the Yokai from our prison!”

“Wooooow,” Leo drawled. “You just said so much, and I only understand like a third of it.”

“So, let’s cut the talk,” Raph suggested brightly, “and get to smashing!”

“Finally!” April shouted, leaping off the ledge, club swinging, with a great battle cry.

Draxum tucked his hands behind his back. “Get them.”

The turtle moved fast, almost too fast to see. In a moment, April was on the floor, the stranger having swept his bo staff under her legs. He stood over her and turned his curious, questioning gaze to the others.

“April!” Raph shouted, diving forward. He roared in anger as he flew towards the attacker.

The stranger sidestepped, twirling his staff. In another moment, Raph was stumbling, rubbing a sore spot on his head.

The stranger turned back to Leo and Mikey. “I wouldn’t recommend it,” he said, pointing a thumb at their two struggling companions. “You’ve got a 0% success rate so far.”

“Never tell me the odds!” Leo shrieked, leaping from his perch. His sword flashed in the dim light, blocking the attacks from the mystery turtle. Eventually, however, he too ended up rolling on his shell, groaning in pain.

Mikey gasped. “Guys!” he cried, jumping to the main floor, though he remained a good distance from the stranger.

The turtle turned to him and raised his eyebrows. “Up to you,” he said simply.

Mikey hesitated. He lowered his weapon. “I don’t think I want to fight you,” he said quietly.

The stranger tilted his head. “Why not?” he asked lightly.

Mikey shrugged. “I think we’re the same,” he continued, stepping forward slowly. The other turtle gripped his staff more tightly. Mikey stopped moving. “Maybe you came from the same place we did,” he suggested slowly. “I think we should help each other.”

The stranger frowned, tilting his head in confusion. “Did you not know?”

Mikey froze, brow furrowing. “Know what?”

“Stop this chatter!” Draxum snapped. He whipped his hand out from his sleeve and threw a couple seeds to the ground. Giant pink vines sprouted from where they landed, writhing in the air before plunging towards the four intruders.

The turtle ducked away, expertly weaving between the moving vines without even having to look. He locked eyes with Mikey, determination and sharp focus glittering in his gaze.

Mikey yelped and ducked out of the way of the staff, swinging for his head. “Whatever happened to ‘up to you’?” he shrieked, jumping onto a vine to avoid another blow.

“It’s not up to either of us,” the stranger replied flatly. He ducked away from Mikey’s weapon and swung again. Mikey tripped, stumbling back off of the twisting tendril and hitting the ground hard. He groaned, blinking away the fuzz in his vision, just in time to see the stranger jumping off the vine, staff held aloft.

Mikey rolled away onto his plastron just as the staff slammed into the ground where his head had been just moments ago.

This guy was good.

The attacker turned to face him again, only to be struck by some sort of glowing red energy. He tumbled back, rolling across the hard ground with a stifled cry of pain. His staff skittered from his grip.

“Get away from my brother!” Raph roared, jumping into Mikey’s field of vision. The tonfas he’d selected earlier now glowed with an eerie red light, flickering with energy.

“Whoaaaaa,” Mikey gasped, pressing his hands against his cheeks. “Magic weapon!”

Raph chanced a glance back at him, eyes shining. “Right?!”

The attacker groaned, struggling to his feet. Leo lunged at him from the shadows, sword flashing a strange blue in the light.

“Take that, you –” Leo paused, looking down at the glowing blue patch that had opened at his feet. He began to sink in, slowly at first, until another blue circle appeared above him. He yelped in surprise as he fell through, then appeared again out of the circle above him.

The stranger stepped back as Leo screamed, cycling through the portals. “So, you all took magical glowing weapons from the armory,” the stranger said, turning to Raph with a quirked eyebrow, “and none of you thought to test them out first? You didn’t think that’d be beneficial?”

“Hey,” Raph snapped, pointing at him accusatorially, “I don’t need to take this from you! Why are you helping this guy?”

The stranger shrugged. “It’s what I’m meant to do.” He aimed a well-timed kick at Leo’s flailing form, knocking the red-eared slider out of the cycle. Leo rolled across the floor towards Mikey and Raph. Mikey gasped and knelt by his side, anxiously checking him for injuries. Luckily, he just seemed dizzy.

The portals closed as Leo rolled onto his back, gasping for breath. The stranger walked towards them slowly, pausing to pick up his staff. Draxum threw another seed behind the turtle. It grew into a writhing, giant plant mech, sharp teeth glittering in the light. The mech lunged, swinging a clawed hand at the turtles.

Mikey jumped, fumbling with his new kusari-fundo, and instinctively threw the chain, keeping his hands around the handle. The weapon snapped out much further than should’ve been possible, wrapping around the mech’s arm. Mikey gasped, eyes widening, as it burst into flame.

A huge grin split his face. “Magic weapo–!” Then, he was gone, whipped along as the mech swung its arm. He screamed, thrown roughly against the wall, then dropped to the ground. He groaned and rolled onto his stomach.

A familiar battle cry rang through the room.

“Apriiiiiiiiil. . .” April’s form leapt from the ledge to the top of the mech’s head. “O’Neil!” She drove her club between the mech’s eyes. The monster roared and reeled back, crashing into the column in the center of the room. The glass at the top cracked and the room swarmed with mosquitos for a moment. The swarm vanished out the door. Draxum roared in anger. Mikey struggled to his feet, watching as Raph summoned more mystic energy to smash the monster’s head. April rolled off the writhing form as it collapsed.

Mikey ran back to his brothers, clutching his weapon.

The stranger from before jumped over the fallen mech, landing in a crouch, eyes fixed on the small group with an expression even Mikey couldn’t read.

“Ok, seriously,” April snapped, appearing at Raph’s side. “Who are you?”

The turtle stood and drew his shoulders back, waving a hand. “I’m the one you left behind.”

Mikey felt sick.

Don’t leave him.

A beat.

“Ok, wow,” Leo groaned, sitting up to rub his head. “That is literally the most ominous yet cheesy thing you could’ve said – what are you, a 90s supervillain?”

Then, the stranger smiled. Not the mocking, cruel smile that Baron Draxum had given him, not malicious or mean-spirited. An amused, genuine, almost surprised smile.

“Oh, perfect! That’s what I was going for.”

The sight made Mikey dizzy. This was not just some weapon or crazed assassin. This was a kid.

Mikey felt his heart plummet as the stranger met his eye again.

This was their brother.

He didn’t know how he knew. He didn’t even know if he was right. But he had to be, right? This sheep guy makes mutants, has a mutant turtle around their age that can fight better than them – he had to be. This stranger had to be their brother.

Something at the console started beeping loudly, drawing away the stranger’s attention briefly. His eyes widened. “Master Draxum!” he called, stepping towards the console. “It’s overheating!”

Draxum turned his attention briefly to the central pillar. As he did, the little creature they had been attempting to rescue, that Mikey had admittedly forgotten about, appeared in the air over April’s head. April caught him, and in a flash of blue, the four of them were once again standing on the streets of New York.

They were all silent for a long moment. Leo gripped the hilt of his sword with both hands, staring wide-eyed at nothing. Mikey twisted his sash in his hands, lip trembling.

April glanced between the three of them. “Did you know him?” she asked again, quietly.

Mikey bit his lip. Before he could answer, Raph spoke up.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I did.”

Leo hefted his sword onto his shoulder, glaring as the portal closed in the wall. “I think," he muttered, “we need to have a talk with dear old dad.”

The turtle watched the mutants flee with the human. The teleportation creature whisked them from the dangerously overheating lab, out of sight. The turtle tried to ignore that it stung.

The beeping stopped as Draxum stopped the overheating, plunging the lab into a heavy, dreadful moment of silence. Turtle tensed, glancing halfway over his shoulder so he could see the Yokai out the corner of his eye.

Master Draxum roared in fury. He snatched a piece of debris from the console and hurled it towards Turtle. The teen, luckily, was well used to his outrage and dodged easily. He twisted away and crouched, eyes fixed warily on the form of his master.

“Years of work,” Draxum snarled, eyes fixed on the cracked terrarium on the top of the central column. “It will take months to rebuild all this, not to mention my mosquitos!” 

Turtle slowly stood. It seemed the anger was no longer directed towards him. Still, he was wary. He caught sight of the two gargoyles fluttering near the ceiling, watching from afar, out of the line of fire. While Turtle sometimes resented the way they could just leave these situations, he couldn’t pretend he wouldn’t do the same if he had the ability to fly away.

Draxum took a deep breath and rubbed a hand against his chin. “Another setback,” he muttered. “But I’ve faced setbacks before. I will rebuild, and find my mosquitos.”

He turned to face the turtle, who instinctively straightened up, tucking his weapon away and clasping his hands behind his back. Turtle kept his expression flat, neutral, trained on the opposite wall.

“Now, turtle,” Draxum began, crossing his arms, “I expect you have some questions.”

The turtle nodded once. “I do.”

“You may ask three.”

Turtle hesitated, chewing his lower lip carefully. Master Draxum was already angry over the damage to his lab. He hadn’t even mentioned that Turtle failed to capture his targets. In short, he was already in a bad mood. ‘Three’ questions meant ‘two’ right now, so Turtle had to choose very carefully.

“They were the ones you told me about,” he said slowly. Draxum nodded. “Are there any others I should be aware of?”

“No.”

Turtle silently cursed himself for wasting one of his questions on something so foolish. Of course there weren’t. Draxum would’ve told him. He took a deep breath.

“What is the difference between us?” he decided finally.

“Difference?” Draxum echoed, tilting his head. “Be more specific, Turtle.”

Turtle chewed on his lower lip again. He felt the skin split, tasted blood, but ignored it. He could focus on breaking his bad habit another time. “Why are they. . . there, and I’m here?” he murmured slowly, drawing out the thought carefully.

Draxum shrugged dismissively. “Because you were forgotten,” he replied bluntly. “When they were stolen, you were kicked off into the shadows and left behind. That is all there is to it.” He stepped forward, slowly circling Turtle’s perfectly still form. “Of course, you are not the one I would’ve selected to have kept,” he muttered. Turtle felt his throat close, but he knew better than to interrupt. Or cry. “The snapper or box turtle would’ve been better. Hell, even the slider. But, no, I got stuck with the soft shell.” He knocked a knuckle distractedly against the armored shell hanging on Turtle’s back. Turtle stiffened. Draxum stepped around in front of him again and raised an eyebrow. “Any other questions?”

Yes. A hundred. A thousand. Too many to count and not enough to articulate. “No, Master Draxum.”

“Good. Help Huggin and Munnin clean this mess up.” He swept towards the doorway. “I need to speak with the Council.”

Turtle bowed slightly and turned back to the mess around the central pillar. He groaned inwardly at the chaos, chunks of concrete and shards of glass littering the ground, broken vines and beams scattered about, the body of the mech slowly disintegrating. How did they cause so much damage in so little time?

He heard the door open and close behind him, signaling Draxum’s departure. Turtle felt his shoulders relax, only slightly, as he stepped forward.

“Wow!” Huggin said, swooping in from somewhere above him. “What. A. Mess.” He alighted on the edge of the console, beady red eyes roving over the wreckage. “Man, sure wish I hadn’t rescheduled that dentist appointment.”

“Can’t even imagine how you’re feeling right now, Mini-Boss,” Munnin added, landing on the tip of Turtle’s staff. Turtle shook him off with an irritated glare. Munnin took no notice, choosing instead to settle next to his friend. “Seeing all those people who left you behind? Must be rough!”

“I mean, it’s good though, right?” Huggin added. “Once Draxum gets a hold of them, you’ll all be together again!”

“That doesn’t matter,” Turtle pointed out, heaving a dead vine out of the ground. “I’ve survived this long without them, why would I care if they’re here in the future?” He shook his head, tossing the vine away to begin a trash pile. “I don’t care what happens to them. This has no effect on my abilities.”

“Woof,” Munnin grimaced. “Sounds like someone’s in denial!”

Turtle shot the two of them a scathing look, reaching for his staff. “Who don’t you two do your job?” he snapped.

“Alright, alright,” Huggin muttered, fluttering towards a pile of broken glass. “Sheesh, touchy.”

Turtle rolled his eyes and returned his attention to his own section, ignoring the gargoyles chattering in the background. Honestly, even after fourteen years, he had a hard time with them. He’d learned that they would very rarely report him to Draxum if he misbehaved or messed up around them, which was the only reason he responded to their conversation at all. They weren’t technically supposed to talk to him, but they did. It was nice, sometimes, to have someone to talk to. Still, he could never bring himself to fully trust them. They didn’t seem to be ‘on his side’, as it were. More of a neutral force, there to jab or encourage whenever it took their fancy. Often, Turtle noticed that their role was that of simple observers, simply retelling recent events in an almost comedic tone. That, he could live with, most of the time. But he tried not to let his guard down with them.

After a few hours, the lab was relatively tidy, and Draxum still hadn’t returned.

“Geez, I think we deserve a treat,” Huggin sighed, rolling onto his stomach as he lounged on a nearby ledge. “What say you, Munnin? Ice cream?”

“Can’t have ice cream on an empty stomach,” Munnin pointed out, patting his round belly. “I say nacho fries from that taco truck, then ice cream.”

“Oh, you are so right,” Huggin crowed. He sat up, shaking out his wings. “What about you, Mini-Boss? In or out?”

Turtle dusted off his arms, ignoring how some old wounds still hurt under the bandages. They’d heal in time. “I haven’t been given permission to leave the lab,” he replied flatly. “Anyways, it’s abhorrently unhealthy.”

“Nothing wrong with being a little unhealthy every now and then!” Munnin said brightly, fluttering towards him. “C’mon, you’ve had a hard day!” He landed on Turtle’s shoulder. “Just a–”

“Do not! ” Turtle yelped, jumping away and instinctively swatting the gargoyle away.

“C’mon, Mun, you know he doesn’t like being touched.”

“Right. Sorry, Mini-Boss.”

Turtle squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head sharply. His head was ringing, like his skull had suddenly gotten too big and every little noise was bouncing around. He hated when this happened. “I’m not going. I need to train.” And be somewhere quiet.

Huggin sighed. “Well – alright. Don’t push yourself too hard, Mini-Boss.”

Munnin hovered in front of Turtle’s face for a moment. “We’ll bring you back something, yeah?”

“There’s no need.”

“We’re gonna.” He waved as he followed Huggin out an open window. “See ya!”

Turtle groaned and ran a hand down his face, pressing the heel into his eye. God, his head hurt. He was tired. He wanted nothing more than to curl up on his little bed and sleep, but he couldn’t. He’d failed today. Miserably.

He picked up his staff and made his way to the training room, deep in the back of the building. It was dark, dim, but it was a sanctuary. Turtle took a moment after flicking the lights on to just bask in the silence.

What a day.

He stretched and began running through his training regimen.

He wasn’t upset. Of course he wasn’t. Of course he didn’t really care about the turtles that had suddenly appeared in the lab. Why would he? It was like Huggin said, this was a good thing. Returning to their creator to fulfill their purpose, just as Turtle was.

So why was he so agitated?

Was it because he let them get away? Because he hadn’t been good enough? Because of that little one with big, anxious eyes who’d insisted they shouldn’t fight? Because of the way they all defended each other without a second thought? Was it the human that made him nervous?

It was very possibly the human. It wasn’t like he’d ever seen one before.

I think we’re the same.

Of course they were the same. What did that have to do with fighting? Why were they even trying to fight Master Draxum? They were mutants, not quite Yokai but definitely not human. They should’ve been on his side. He was trying to cleanse the surface to make the world safe for Yokai. That was a good thing, right?

Right?

Turtle shook his head sharply, swinging his staff through his practiced movements. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need to think about things. All he needed to do was follow orders.

His mind finally, mercifully, blurred as his body continued the muscle-memory regimes. Like this, he could relax. He could work out complicated problems that arose with Master Draxum’s experiments. He could think of new inventions to suggest. Sometimes Master Draxum gave him spare parts and tools to fiddle with in his downtime. He never accepted anything he made, though. He was contemptuous of it, saying that it wasn’t as good as magic.

“Try all you want, turtle,” Master Draxum had scoffed in disgust one day, turning away from Turtle’s latest invention. “You cannot mimic the might of the Yokai. You are not one of us.”

Turtle had been seven.

He wasn’t a Yokai. But he was one of those turtles.

He didn’t know how long he was there. He knew the bo started leaving blisters on his palms. He knew his armor was rubbing his shoulders and shell raw, again, but he refused to remove it. He knew he was tired and sore by the time he finally straightened up and let his bo fall to the ground with a clatter.

He knew he was tired.

“Heeeeey, Mini-Boss!” a voice crowed from the hallway. “Where are you at?”

Turtle groaned and began adjusting the bandages on his wrists. “Training room, Munnin.”

“What?” the gargoyle cried, voice becoming clearer as he entered the room. “It’s been three hours, you haven’t been here all night?”

“I have.”

“Yeesh. Eaten yet?”

“Obviously not, if I’ve been in here all night.” Turtle finally turned to see Munnin hefting a plastic to-go bag towards him, a bright smile on his rounded beak.

“Well, you definitely need a treat, then,” he said, hefting the bag towards him.

Turtle reached for it, then hesitated, his eyes flickered to the doorway. “Where’s Master Draxum?” he asked in a low voice.

“Not here yet. I’m not dumb enough to give you this while he’s around,” Munnin replied, following his gaze over his shoulder. “He might be out late. He was pretty mad.”

Turtle winced. That didn’t bode well for him. Still, he accepted the bag with a nod.

Munnin returned the nod and fluttered back out. “There’s ice cream in there too,” he added over his shoulder, “so don’t leave it too long.”

“I won’t.”

“Night, Mini-Boss!”

“Mhm.” Turtle glanced at the contents of the bag – a Styrofoam takeout container and a plastic cup of ice cream, chocolate syrup sticking to the lid. He nodded appreciatively and slipped to his room. It was barely a room, really. A small, grey closet with just a cot and a tiny desk and chair. A small window sat high up on the wall, too high to reach unless he stood on the bed, which was pointless.

Turtle sat cross-legged on the floor and began eating.

He did appreciate Huggin and Munnin. He didn’t know why they took such a liking to him, constantly trying to engage him in conversation or convince him to sneak out (he never did). Maybe it was just because he was there, an easy target, someone with nobody else to talk to. Maybe they did have some weird ulterior motive.

Turtle didn’t know. But it was nice to have ice cream.

Chapter Text

The walk back to the lair was dead quiet, the air tense and stiff. April kept the cat creature, whom she’d dubbed Mayhem, huddled in her arms. She kept glancing between the three turtles, brow creased in concern. Leo kept his new sword hefted on his shoulder, scowling thoughtfully at the dark tunnel ahead. Raph was tapping his hands together as he did when nervous or agitated.

And Mikey? Mikey still felt sick.

That was their brother.

It was all he could think. Brother. Brother. Brother. Over and over again and again. He tried to imagine if his place had been swapped with one of his more present brothers. He tried to imagine seeing Leo or Raph down there, looking up at them with a curious gaze. In that world, then, the other-brother would be sitting next to him. What color would he have on his mask? Who would he be? What would his name be?

Did he even have a name right now? 

Draxum had only called him ‘Turtle’. He seemed to answer to that.

Mikey felt dizzy.

The four of them stepped into the lair, which glowed with the sunlight of early morning. The sounds of some stupid TV show echoed from the living room. Leo gritted his teeth, grip tightening on his sword. Raph frowned, brow lowering over his eyes.

April hesitated before speaking. “Should I. . . leave?” she asked.

Raph blinked and turned his gaze to her. “Huh?”

“This just feels like a family conversation.”

“Oh.” He glanced hesitantly at the doorway to the living room. Splinter’s loud laugh echoed about the atrium. He shrugged. “I mean, you are family. You can stay if you want to, but. . .”

“I’m gonna leave,” she decided firmly, hefting Mayhem in her arms. “This is a you-guys thing.”

Raph nodded ruefully. “We’ll fill you in tomorrow.”

“Oh, you’d better,” she agreed. “I’m not staying for the talk, but there’s no way I’m not helping with whatever’s next.” April turned to leave, then paused. She rested a hand on Mikey’s shoulder, squeezing supportively. 

Mikey managed to meet her eye and smile weakly for a moment. She returned with a sympathetic look before she released him and patted Leo’s back. She gave him a knowing look, and he looked away and nodded guiltily. Satisfied, she waved and began making her way back home.

The turtles stood for a moment, uncertain of what to do. Leo was the one who moved first, eyes glittering with a determination that the other two had never seen from him as he marched towards the living room. He let his sword lean against the wall outside before glancing back at his brothers. Raph and Mikey shared a look. Mikey could see, under Raph’s concern, that same determination. He knew his gaze reflected something similar. 

The three strode into the room. Splinter sat sprawled out on his easy chair as always, laughing loudly at the mindless game show playing in front of him. Leo switched off the projector as he marched in.

“Hey!” Splinter yelped, sitting up to give his sons a glare. “What do you think you’re doing? So disrespectful!”

The turtles stood resolutely in front of the screen. The room was dark, illuminated only by a weakly flickering lamp in the corner and the sunlight bleeding in from the atrium.

Leo crossed his arms. “Where did we come from?” he demanded coldly. Mikey cringed a bit. He thought they’d be approaching the situation a bit more delicately.

Splinter’s face went slack for a moment. His brow lowered dangerously over his eyes. “I’ve told you not to -” 

“Okay, sure,” Leo interrupted loudly, waving a hand. “Different question, then: How many of us were there when you found us?”

Splinter’s face paled, eyes widening. “What?” he asked breathlessly.

Raph sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We. . . we just saw another turtle mutant,” he explained.

“About our age,” Mikey added softly.

“He said we left him behind,” Leo finished bitterly, eyes narrowing as his fingers dug into his arms. “Dad, who was he?”

Splinter slowly lowered himself back into his seat. His eyes were wide with horror, hands shaky as he pressed one against his forehead. “I. . .” He shook his head. “I thought I miscounted!”

Mikey felt his stomach plummet as his jaw dropped in horror. Raph gasped.

Leo seemed to jolt. “There was another one of us?” he shrieked, eyes widening. “And you left him ?!”

“It is not that simple!” Splinter cried. “There was fire, everything was collapsing - I didn’t even get a good look at you! I thought I just miscounted for another one!”

Leo paced away, hands pressed against his head. “This whole time, we’ve had another brother,” he muttered. He laughed, almost deliriously. “I’m not crazy!” he cried. “There really was someone else!”

Mikey pressed a hand against his stomach. The queasy feeling he’d had all day only continued worsening. He hated everything about this. The entire thing. The lost brother, the mad scientist who’d had him this whole time, the strange hidden city and mutating mosquitos and everything felt so wrong. 

Life had been so much simpler the night before, before his nightmares became real.

“Boys,” Splinter said in a low voice, sitting forward. “Where did you see this turtle?”

Mikey and Leo hesitated, glancing at Raphael. The snapper paused, glancing to the side. “We. . . we saw him on the surface,” he decided slowly. “Chasing after some weird little cat thing. We ran into each other for just a second before he ran away.”

Mikey bit his tongue and looked away. He didn’t like lying. Never had. He hated it. But, Raph was probably right. It felt like a bad idea to let Splinter know that they’d discovered the Hidden City.

Splinter’s eyes narrowed at his sons. He slowly settled back into his seat. “I understand this must be a lot to process,” he muttered. “But you must not pursue this any further. It could be very dangerous. Understood?”

The three of them nodded.

“Good. Now, I must finish my show.” He leaned over to the table and flipped the projector back on, bathing the room in a sickly bright glow.

Leo seethed quietly as he led the way out to the atrium. Mikey wrung his hands, glancing over his shoulder at the TV room.

“What do we do now?” he whispered fervently. “We can’t just leave him there, can we?”

Raph sighed heavily, collapsing onto the couch in the game room. Leo took to pacing, scowling at the ground.

“I don’t know, Mikey,” Raph said slowly. “He didn’t seem upset at all. If this Baron Draxum guy raised him, he’s probably on his side.”

“He didn’t want to fight me!” Mikey insisted. “He said it was up to me whether or not we fought, and then Draxum told him to, and he was covered in bruises and he - he didn’t have a name, Raph!”

That made Leo pause. “He just called him ‘Turtle’,” he recalled, rubbing his chin. 

Mikey nodded frantically. “I don’t think he wanted to fight at all,” he pressed. “That Draxum guy made him!”

Raph groaned and leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. “I. . . I don’t know, guys,” he muttered. “I need to think about it.”

“He is our brother,” Leo said, though with less conviction than Mikey. “I think we should at least try to talk to him again.”

Raph shook his head, digging his fingers into his skull. “Guys, we don’t even know him!” he cried. “He could be. . . I dunno, a total sociopath, or a mad scientist, or something!”

“We don’t know that!” Mikey retorted, gritting his teeth. “What we know is that Draxum sucks, and hurts people for fun or science or whatever, and that he’s been stuck with him for all his life!” He thought of the blank, curious stare of the stranger, the faint marks up and down his arms, the way he moved without thinking when Draxum ordered it. He felt his stomach turn. “Do you really think Draxum hasn’t hurt him?” he hissed.

Raph looked up, surprise written across his features. After a moment, he sighed and stood. “I need to think,” he murmured. “And we need rest. We’ve had a long night.”

Mikey and Leo shared a look, both wrought with exhaustion. Leo looked away and nodded. “Alright,” he muttered. “But we should tell April about this, as soon as we can.”

Raph nodded. “Yeah, I was gonna fill her in,” he agreed. “We’ll see if we can meet up later and talk about it.”

Mikey felt his shoulders slump and sighed. He was too tired to continue this fight. He just nodded in surrender and made his way to his room. The floor was still littered with paper and markers from the night before. Half-finished works cluttered the walls and desk. He sprawled out on the floor and pulled a blank sheet towards him.

He couldn’t think of what to draw. So, he just let his hands lead him.

Mikey lay on his stomach for a long time, markers and pens sweeping back and forth over the blank space. When he finished, there was his usual family portrait, the same thing he always drew when he had no ideas. Himself, Leo, Raph, April, Splinter.

And a fourth.

Mikey had drawn him with the maroon mask he’d been wearing, although it felt wrong to do so. He’d also added the cartoonish eyebrows he’d noticed. He wondered how that worked, if he drew them on his mask or had somehow been mutated with them.

Tears fell to the paper, smudging the drawing. Mikey wiped his eyes and stood, swaying as he walked to his hammock and collapsed in. He buried his face in his pillows, trying not to think about the stranger’s face, the way he’d smiled, the way he’d seemed almost surprised that he was smiling. Mikey was suddenly struck with another image. A vision of looking up at the stranger sitting with Raph and Leo and April on the ledge while Mikey stood on the ground. Nameless. Alone. Abandoned. 

That could have very easily been him.

I’m the one you left behind.

He couldn’t take it anymore. The silence in his room was too much. He couldn’t bear being alone, alone like the other-brother was. Mikey stood and trotted out to the main atrium, wiping his arm over his eyes. He passed Raph’s room, but he could hear him talking to April inside. Anyways, Raph needed space to think. This wasn’t where Mikey was headed.

Mikey stopped outside Leo’s room and knocked on the doorframe.

“C’mon in, Mikey.” He sounded tired.

Mikey brushed the curtain aside, stepping inside. Leo was sprawled out on his bed, phone in hand, face illuminated only by the faint blue light of the screen. He squinted at Mikey, then smiled ruefully.

“Had a feeling you’d be coming by,” he sighed, shifting over on the bed and patting the extra pillow he’d picked up. 

Mikey twisted his hands anxiously. “You don’t mind?” he asked sheepishly. He felt embarrassed, frankly, needing to be coddled like a little kid. He wasn’t a baby anymore. He shouldn’t need to go to his big brothers for a nap.

Leo grinned tiredly. “C’mon,” he insisted. “I could use the company.”

Relieved, Mikey made his way over and clambered into the bed, curling up against his brother’s side. Leo wrapped an arm around his shoulders, still focused on his phone. Mikey squinted at the screen. “What are you looking at?” he murmured.

“Hm?” Leo glanced at him, then back at his phone. “Oh, nothing really,” he shrugged, switching off the phone and setting it aside. “I was just. . . I was looking at other turtle species, trying to figure out what he might be.”

Mikey felt his lip quivering, but tried to press through the tightness in his chest. “What do you think?” he prodded, trying to add a light tone to his voice.

“Definitely not a slider,” Leo grinned languidly. “He wasn’t nearly handsome enough for that.”

“You’re right,” Mikey retorted, flicking the side of his head. “He was way too tall to be a slider.”

Leo poked him sharply in the shoulder, then shrugged. “Maybe a soft shell?” he suggested. “The markings look similar, and he did have that armor. I guess it doesn’t really matter what he. . .” He trailed off and turned to face his little brother. His face softened. “Aw, Mikey. . .”

“Hm?” Mikey wiped his eyes, surprised to feel tears. “Ugh, sorry,” he mumbled, scrubbing his face aggressively. “I didn’t - I didn’t mean to -”

Leo just reached his other arm around to hug him. Mikey sniffled, hiding his face in his shoulder.

“That could’ve been any of us,” the box turtle whispered. “That could’ve been you or Raph or - or me.” He shuddered as the thought resurfaced again. He was again alone, cold, nameless in that cruel, dark lab. “I don’t know what I’d do without any of you.”

“I know,” Leo said quietly, rubbing the back of his shell. The motion helped drag Mikey back to the present, warm and safe and here with his brother. He was okay. “We’ll talk to him,” Leo continued. “We’ll try to help. There’s gotta be something we can do.”

Mikey nodded, but didn’t pull away from the hug. To his relief, neither did Leo.

Turtle awoke with a sharp start, right at 6 am. He sat up, rubbing his eyes with a yawn, and winced slightly. Still sore from yesterday, and with barely an hour of sleep. Brilliant.

He’d either forgotten or neglected to remove his armored shell before he fell asleep. He couldn’t remember which. Either way, now his shoulders and shell were rubbed raw, sore, but he’d dealt with this a thousand times before. He didn’t like taking it off if he could help it. He quickly donned the rest of his armor and tied his mask around his eyes. He glanced at his reflection in a hall mirror as he passed, pleased to see that the eyebrows were still visible.

They were a strange addition to his appearance. He must’ve been nine when Huggin and Munnin decided to play some stupid prank and draw them on while he left the mask sitting out. He’d been distraught at first, certain that Master Draxum would be furious, but the Yokai had only scoffed and rolled his eyes upon noticing. Turtle wasn’t so sure why he kept drawing them on after that. Perhaps it was the individuality, the unique thing that he had added. It was something that Draxum didn’t order, didn’t even fully approve. But it was there, and it was his, and it was something that he did that was outside the realm of Draxum’s control.

It wasn’t, really. He could tell Turtle to stop drawing them on at any time, and he would. But for now, Turtle liked the quiet, subconscious reminder that there were a few things - very few - that he still had full control over.

Turtle strolled into the kitchen, reaching for the bag of bagels on the countertop.

“Mini-Boss!” Huggin called, fluttering in to land on top of the fridge. “How’s it going?”

“It’s barely started,” Turtle retorted flatly, dropping a bagel into the toaster and flicking the switch. It still stuck as he pushed it down, as it had for weeks. He wished he could fix it. His hands itched for something to fix, take apart and put back together in the way he wished he could do for his mind.

“Haha, very true,” Huggin grinned, finger-gunning at him. “Also, I just wanted to say about yesterday - ‘I’m the one you left behind’?” He nodded approvingly. “That was, like, ten out of ten.”

Turtle couldn’t resist a small smile. “Well, it was my big debut,” he replied airily, waving his hand as he leaned against the counter. “Had to make a good impression, y’know?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Huggin continued, resting his chin on his spindly arms as he laid down on his stomach. “I mean, just, the delivery, the suspense, all of it? No notes. It was great.”

Turtle grinned proudly and removed his breakfast from the toaster. “Where’s Munnin?”

“Talking to Big Boss,” the spiny gargoyle replied, nodding out the door. “Getting the agenda for today. Y’know, after everything yesterday, it might be getting pretty busy.”

Turtle winced slightly but said nothing.

Huggin shifted, rustling his wings restlessly. “Did you eat the stuff we brought last night?”

Turtle cast an anxious look to the doorway. Draxum, luckily, wasn’t around, so he nodded.

“You like it? We had to go to a new place, so we’re trying to figure out the verdict.”

Turtle shrugged and turned back to the food in front of him. “It was enjoyable enough,” he answered delicately. 

“See, I thought so too, but Munnin said it was -”

“Mini-Boss!” 

The aforementioned gargoyle fluttered through the door. Turtle was quietly relieved at the interruption. He had no interest in whatever petty debate Huggin had been about to relate.

Turtle glanced at him and raised a quizzical eyebrow, mouth full of his breakfast.

Munnin settled next to his friend on the fridge. “Baron Draxum wants to talk to you,” he announced, elbowing Hugging. “All of us, actually,” he added. 

Turtle cursed inwardly, settling for disgruntled grumbling outwardly as he picked up his bo staff. He scarfed down the rest of his breakfast and he hurried down the hall, wiping butter and jam from his face. He paused for a moment, double-checking his appearance in another mirror on the wall outside the living room, before he took a deep breath and stepped in.

“Master Draxum,” he greeted with a bow. Draxum, sitting in his big armchair in front of the fire, didn’t even turn to acknowledge him. He flipped through the papers he was holding, frowning. Turtle straightened up, clasping his hands behind his back, trying to ignore how the movement grated his armor against his shell. He heard the gargoyles flutter into the room behind him. They perched on the mantle.

Draxum finished whatever he was working on and looked up. Turtle kept his gaze fixed carefully on the opposite wall. His heart was thundering under his plastron. He was fully aware that they hadn’t yet discussed his failure from the night before. This little meeting was no doubt in reference to that. He wasn’t looking forward to whatever punishment his master had in mind.

“Turtle,” Draxum began, resting his chin on one hand. “Do you care to tell me why you failed to capture your targets last night?”

Turtle flinched. He really hated being right, sometimes. He squeezed his wrist behind his back, digging his fingers into the rough bandages in an attempt to ground himself. “I’m sorry, Master Draxum,” he said, struggling to keep his voice flat. “I believe I was. . . caught off guard by their presence.”

“Hm.” Draxum straightened up, twirling his pen in his hand. “So you allowed yourself to get distracted by unexpected circumstances? Is that what you’re saying?”

Turtle hesitated. He nodded slowly, dropping his gaze to the thick carpet on the floor. “Yes, Master Draxum,” he said softly. He squeezed his arm so tightly that the tips of his fingers went numb. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, uselessly. If Draxum didn’t want his apology, he wouldn’t take it.

Draxum observed him critically for a moment, then turned back to his work. “I’ll work out a punishment later,” he muttered. “We have more pressing matters.” He sighed and set aside his work, frowning at Turtle. “We need to retrieve those turtles, and my mosquitos.”

Turtle perked up slightly. “I was actually thinking about the mosquitos last night,” he said, shoulders hiking up slightly with excitement. “If we still have some of that web-goo, I could make a device to -”

“I was not asking for suggestions,” Draxum interrupted sharply, standing from his chair. Turtle recoiled instinctively, curling in on himself. Draxum clenched his fists as he continued. “I allow you to assist sometimes with the alchemic work, but I have no interest in your - your tech .” He spat out the last word like a curse, contempt dripping from the syllable. “Those devices are nothing more than pitiful attempts to mimic the magic of the Yokai. Do not insult me by suggesting it.”

Turtle quailed back, ducking his head. “Right,” he mumbled, cursing himself quietly. “Forgive me, Master Draxum. I spoke out of turn.”

Draxum sighed and rubbed his brow. “I have plans for the turtles,” he muttered. “For all of you. But you must follow my command and not argue.” He rested a hand on Turtle’s shoulder. Turtle tensed but didn’t look up. “Turtle, I only want for you to reach your full potential,” Draxum said in an almost encouraging voice. Almost. “That is what matters here. You understand?”

“Yes, Master Draxum.”

Draxum crossed his arms, frowning. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Hm.” He turned away. “No more food today. That is your punishment.”

Turtle’s heart sank, but he was careful not to show it. He just nodded and repeated his ‘Yes, Sir.’ At least it wasn’t physical.

Draxum hummed thoughtfully, tapping his fingers against his arms. “We need to get those other turtles,” he muttered. “I expect you to be training for that. I don’t expect another failure.”

Turtle nodded, gripping his arm more tightly in determination. “I won’t fail you again, Master Draxum,” he said firmly, brows lowering over his eyes. “I promise.”

 “Good.” Draxum nodded once. “For now, go finish cleaning up the lab. This afternoon, you will go with Huggin and Munnin to retrieve some orders in town.” He nodded vaguely in the direction of the ruined lab. “We need to rebuild, after all.” 

Turtle felt relief flood his chest. He bowed again and turned to leave. The gargoyles fluttered and landed on his shoulders. He normally would have shrugged them off, but he was so relieved to have escaped the interaction that he barely even noticed their weight. 

“Man, that was intense,” Muninn muttered.

“But, hey,” Huggin added brightly, “we get a day out of the lair! How about that, Mini-Boss?”

Turtle shrugged them off as they entered the lab. “It’s been a while since I’ve been out,” he agreed. “I’m looking forward to a break.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to that next Battle Nexus game,” Muninn announced as the three of them continued tidying the destroyed laboratory. “Did you see the last one? That squid guy nearly. . .”

Turtle tuned the conversation out as he continued his work. He needed to catch those turtles next time. He needed to make Draxum proud, for once. That was all he really wanted. All his life he’d fought, striven for his approval. He never got it. He was always falling just shy of the standards and expectations set of him. He refused to fail again.

And yet, perhaps ‘catch’ wasn’t quite the correct term. Surely, if the turtles simply heard Draxum’s plan, they’d come willingly. They’d probably had to live in hiding their whole lives. The idea of a safe world should appeal to them! Turtle was certain that, if he just talked to them for a bit, they’d understand.

Of course. Just a talk. No need to fight them again.

Turtle kicked aside a piece of broken glass. He didn’t want to fight them again. He tried very, very hard not to think of why.

Raph was agitated. He had been pacing all morning, waiting for April to alert him that she was ready to meet. He’d given her the basics of the story as soon as they heard it, but they both agreed they needed to talk in person to discuss their next move. But, unfortunately, April still had school. And waiting made Raph very, very antsy.

He needed to think, but his mind just kept going in circles. He took a deep breath and slowed his pace. He needed, first, to sort out the facts of the situation.

Fact: there was another turtle mutant who had been left behind with Draxum. Mikey and Leo had both called him their brother, but. . . was he really? None of the three of them were sure there was anything biological connecting them. They weren’t even the same species. They were brothers in the sense that they were raised together, loved each other, fought for each other, but they didn’t know if there was a more solid foundation to that label.

Fact: Raphael needed to protect his brothers. That was his job. That had been his job since the first time Splinter had been unable or unwilling to move from his bed for days, leaving the boys to fend for themselves. That was what Raph cared about, making sure his brothers were safe and cared for.

He thought of the stranger in the lab, the way he’d attacked April, Leo, lured Mikey into a false sense of security before springing a trap. Raph seethed, gritting his teeth. This guy had hurt them! He’d attacked and tried to - to - to something. He wasn’t clear on whether they’d have been killed or captured, but still.

Fact: the stranger had hurt his brothers.

So, from those two pieces of information, it made the most sense to treat him like an enemy, right? He had attacked them, he was likely on Draxum’s side, he probably hated humans or wanted to kill the turtles. Why should they try to help him? Who’s to say he even wanted help?

Then Raph remembered his smile, the split-second where he’d just looked like a kid. Just a kid dressed in armor. A kid with a perpetual curious tilt to his head, with a mischievous glimmer deep in his eyes, who had stared at the people who looked like him - the only people in the whole world who looked like him - with a sense of near wonder, fascination.

A kid with a smile like Mikey’s. A kid with a sense of humor like Leo’s. A kid with determination like Raph’s.

A kid.

Fact: this kid was their brother.

Raph always protected his brothers.

The snapper stopped pacing and took a deep breath. He drew his shoulders back resolutely. His mind was made up. They’d help him.

As if on cue, his phone chimed. He looked down to see a picture of April, sitting on a familiar rooftop. Ready when you are, the caption read.

Raph sent a quick on our way and trotted to Leo’s room. As he suspected, Mikey was curled up in his older brother’s arms, both of them fast asleep.

Raph cleared his throat. Leo, ever the light sleeper, lifted up his head, blinking sleepily at him.

“We gotta go see April,” Raph explained, holding up his phone. Mikey sat up too, rubbing his eye and fixing Raph with an anxious, questioning look. Raph took a deep breath and answered the unspoken question on everyone’s tongue.

“We’re going to help our brother.”

Chapter Text

“This place is crazy,” April whispered, gaze dragging over the outline of the Hidden City rising around them. “I can’t believe this has been under New York this whole time!”

“For real,” Mikey agreed, grinning at the various mystic creatures milling about them. “Nobody even looks at us twice here.”

“Except for Baron Draxum,” Raph hissed, grabbing the edge of Mikey’s shell and dragging him back to the shadows of the alleyway. “Which is why we need to stay out of sight!”

Mikey scowled, but he and April followed the other two up a ladder to the top of a tall building. He leaned over the edge, scanning the street, as Leo leaned on his sword behind him.

Raph sighed and pinched the bridge between his eyes. “I still think it was a bad idea to come back here,” he muttered. “We could’ve set a trap on the surface or something.”

“We don’t know if he can come to the surface,” Leo reminded him, frowning at the crowd of people milling below them. “It’ll be easier to track him from somewhere we’ve already seen him. And,” he sent a terse look at Raph, “we’re not trying to fight or trap him. He needs to hear us out and come willingly, otherwise he’ll freak out.”

“I know that!” Raph huffed, crossing his arms. “I just - I dunno, I don’t like fighting on his turf.”

“ We’re not fighting! ”

“Besides,” April interrupted, “setting a trap on the surface in the middle of the day would make it really hard for you guys to stay out of sight.”

Leo nodded and glanced at the looming form of Baron Draxum’s abode in the distance. “Well, then,” he continued lightly, smiling cheekily, “time for some light breaking and entering!”

“No need,” Mikey replied, pointing to the street. “There he is!”

The other three rushed to the edge, following his gaze. Indeed, bobbing among the various unknown creatures, was a maroon mask. The Other-Brother, as Mikey had silently dubbed him, was carrying a bag on his shoulder, talking to two gargoyles who fluttered alongside him. The spiny one said something, and the turtle cracked a small smile.

“Alright,” Raph murmured, cracking his knuckles. “If we can get him alone, we’ll be able to talk.” 

Mikey nodded firmly. “And then we can save him!”

The older three shared an uncertain look. Raph cleared his throat. “Mikey, I know you want to help him,” he began, “we all do, but you need to get that if he doesn’t want help, then it might take a while to convince him.”

Mikey scrunched up his face. “What do you mean, if he doesn’t want help?” he echoed. “Why wouldn’t he want help?”

April shrugged, resting a hand on Mikey’s shoulder. “Sometimes, people in bad situations don’t understand that they’re bad,” she explained gently. “We get that Draxum is bad, but that’s because we were taught that, like, experimenting on people? Abusing kids? That’s wrong. But we think that because that’s what we were raised to think.”

“Right,” Raph agreed. “If this guy has been taught right and wrong by Draxum, he might not even see that he’s being mistreated.” 

Mikey scowled, crossing his arms. “We’re going to help him,” he pressed stubbornly.

“We are,” Leo agreed. “We’re just saying it might be a bit more complicated than swooping in to take him away.

Mikey just shook his head and looked away. Why were they all making this so difficult? Their brother needed help, and they were going to help him.

Whether he liked it or not.

“Our guy’s on the move,” Leo announced. He grinned and held his new odachi in a ready stance. “Time to test this bad boy -”

“No!” Raph yelped, lurching forward to stop him. 

Leo scowled, lowering his weapon. “Oh, come on,” he huffed. “I get a cool magic weapon and I can’t even use it?”

“We’ll practice with our new weapons later,” Raph said placatingly. “Right now is not the time!”

“Ugh,” Leo scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You never let me do anything fun.”

Mikey and April ignored the bickering behind them to hop to the next rooftop. Other-brother was walking into a one-story building with a bright sign advertising ‘Parts and Pieces’, the gargoyles close behind. Raph and Leo decided to leave their argument for later and finally joined the others. 

Raph signaled to drop onto the shop’s roof, leading the jump. Mikey landed lightly on the narrow, dark rooftop and crouched over the open window. Leo sat at his side, sword resting on his shoulder. Mikey strained his hearing to catch the voices inside.

“. . . word is someone heard some big commotion going down,” a raspy voice said, followed by the sound of clattering. “Did the ol’ Baron get himself in some trouble with Big Mama again?”

Other-Brother snorted. “Nothing of the sort,” he said stiffly. “Not that it would be any of your business, anyhow.”

“I still can’t believe the guy won’t accept her deal,” the shopkeeper continued. “Last I heard, she offered a very impressive partnership for some of his weird little freaks for the Nexus.”

“Perish the thought,” Other-Brother said derisively. “Master Draxum has much higher aspirations than that tourist trap.”

Another clatter. “Still don’t explain the noise.”

“Science is a dangerous occupation.”

“I’ll say,” chirped a bright voice, who Mikey assumed was one of the gargoyles. “Man, the number of times I’ve gotten my spines singed from some crazy explosion is insane.”

“Nothing compared to Mini-Boss,” another new voice added, amusement tinging his tone. “This guy would’ve had his eyebrows burned off a million times, if they were real.”

“Hardy har,” Other-Brother scoffed, although there was some amusement in his voice. Mikey could almost see the eye-roll that accompanied it. “Irregardless of what happened, we need to rebuild. Hence, why I need the order.”

The first voice huffed. “Man, can you blame a man for wanting a little gossip? Ain’t nobody talks to me anymore.”

“Have you considered that it’s because you’re nosy?”

“Very funny.” A clatter, then the clink of coins. “Anytime you wanna tell me the juice about whatever’s going down in that castle, I’m all ears.”

“I’ll bear it in mind,” Other-Brother replied dryly. “Afternoon, Pik.”

“Afternoon.” 

Mikey shared a confused look with his brothers and sister. The whole conversation only dredged up more questions. Who was Big Mama? What was this Nexus thing? What did Baron Draxum have planned? 

Raph pressed a finger to his lips and pointed to the end of the shadowy alleyway beside the shop, where Other-Brother stopped to check a sheet of paper. Mikey and Leo shrank away from the edge of the roof, though they kept an eye on him. 

“Man, I’m about beat,” the rounded gargoyle groaned, sitting on a trash can in the alley. 

“But we got through in record time!” his spiny counterpart added. “Boss won’t expect us back for, like, half an hour at least. We’ve got some time to hang out before he gets mad.”

“That’s true,” the round one agreed, sitting up. “Mini-Boss, wanna grab some food before we head back?”

Other-Brother (Mini-Boss? Turtle? Mikey’s head was starting to hurt) tucked away the paper and glanced out into the street. “If we have time,” he said slowly, “I’d like to check out the junkyard for some parts.”

“Ugh,” the spiny gargoyle groaned, even as he fluttered over to sit on Other-Brother’s shoulder. “I will never understand why you like digging through that junk.”

“Hey, if it means we get to stay out longer, I’m down,” the second gargoyle replied, fluttering after the others as they left. “Anything specific we’re after? I saw something. . .”

“Okay, they’re moving,” Raph hissed, straightening up. “Let’s go!” 

They made the rest of the way in relative silence. They had to pause a couple times as they lost their target in the crowd, but April and Mikey both spotted him again. As the crowds began thinning towards the edge of town, it became easier and easier to keep track of him. Unfortunately, it also became harder to stay hidden as the buildings became further apart. Eventually, the group dropped to the ground and followed on foot, ducking behind buildings and carts on the street. 

The junkyard, it turned out, was an accumulation of human junk that seemed to have fallen into the Hidden City. As Other-Brother and the gargoyles pawed through the piles of odds and ends, Mikey spotted old computers, plush toys, a cracked lava lamp, shards of ceramic, car parts. It was interesting, honestly. There were so many hidden treasures. Mikey could certainly understand why the stranger liked spending time there.

Raph waved the group behind an old trailer and crouched down. They all paused as Other-Brother’s voice began on the other side.

“If you two want to head back,” he said casually, “I’d like to stick around here a little longer.”

“Oooooh!” the spiny one crowed gleefully. “Muninn, I think we’re finally seeing the start of Mini-Boss’s rebellious stage!”

“Can’t believe it’s starting so you can dig through garbage for longer,” the round one, Muninn, sighed. “But, hey, it’s a start! We’ll work our way up!”

“Oh, for sure, you’ll be sneaking out to the Nexus with us in no time.” 

“Ok, give us the stuff.” There was a muffled clatter as the bag was transferred from the turtle’s shoulder to the claws of the two gargoyles. “Huggin and I will stall for you. Head back whenever you’re ready!”

“But not too late,” Huginn added, voice strained as he struggled to lift the bag. “Let’s be realistic. We can buy you, like, fifteen minutes at most.”

“That’s true. Mini-Boss, head back in fifteen minutes!”

“Understood,” Other-Brother replied. “I appreciate it.”

There was a moment of silence as the gargoyles fluttered away. 

Leo grinned. “Alright, now’s our chance,” he whispered, straightening up and stepping out from behind the trailer. “Let’s rescue a - and he’s gone.”

“What?” Mikey cried in dismay, leaning around the wall. Indeed, the junkyard was devoid of life besides the four of them. “He was just here!”

“Where could he have gone?” April muttered, resting her hands on her hips with a thoughtful frown.

From behind them, a voice spoke.

“You four are very loud.”

The siblings screamed and reeled away from the voice, whirling around to see Other-Brother standing behind them with his arms crossed. In one hand, he held an old, broken GameBox. A smile tugged at his lips. “Do you know that?”

“Dude!” Leo snapped, standing from where he’d tripped over an old microwave. “Not cool! Don’t do that!”

“Don’t make it so funny, then.”

Mikey’s heart ached, from pounding so hard or from seeing this stranger smile again, he wasn’t sure. 

Leo scowled, but Raph stood and held out his hands placatingly. “We don’t want any trouble,” the snapper said firmly. “I don’t know what you’ve got against us, but I really think we should just talk for a few minutes.”

“Agreed,” Other-Brother replied calmly, settling cross-legged on the ground. He gestured for the others to follow. “Let’s talk.”

Raph blinked in surprise. He clearly hadn’t expected this to be so easy. Mikey, on the other hand, was relieved. He knew they’d be able to help him. If he was willing to talk so easily, surely he was about to tell them he needed help, right?

Mikey was the first to sit, shifting the junk around him to be more comfortable. The others followed shortly after. 

Other-Brother sent an apprehensive, annoyed look at April. “Does the human have to be here?” he muttered.

“She does,” April replied firmly, crossing her arms. “You got a problem with humans?”

Other-Brother rolled his eyes with a shrug. Something uncertain flickered in his eyes.

Mikey cleared his throat and forced a smile. “So, first of all,” he began, “my name is Mikey.” He gestured to his older brothers. “In the red is Raph, he’s the oldest, and in the blue is Leo, and that’s April.” He smiled hopefully at the stranger, anxiety building in his chest as he asked the question he’d been wondering all day. “What’s your name?”

Other-Brother waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t have one,” he replied airily.

Mikey’s heart sank. He’d suspected as much, of course, but he really, really hoped he’d be wrong. No such luck, apparently.

“What?” April cried incredulously, eyes widening. “You’ve gotta have a name!”

“No, I don’t,” the turtle replied, squinting at her inquisitively. “It has no effect on my abilities. It doesn’t matter what someone calls me.”

“You’ve gotta have something you’d like people to call you,” Leo replied, brow furrowing with concern. “We all chose ours when we were kids. You really got nothing?”

The turtle shrugged. “Master Draxum calls me Turtle. I don’t need anything beyond that.” 

“But it’s part of your identity!” Mikey insisted helplessly. “It helps you know who you are!”

“I know who I am,” Other-Brother said flatly. He looked genuinely confused by their concern. “I’m a warrior made by Baron Draxum. I’m a turtle. I’m a mutant.”

“That’s what you are, buddy,” Raph said in a gentle voice. “Not who. ”

Other-Brother paused. He sputtered for a moment and waved his hands, clearly agitated. “This isn’t what we’re talking about!” he huffed. “You can call me whatever you want, I don’t care. We’re here to talk about -” He gestured vaguely to the assembled group. “ - This whole situation.” He tented his fingers in front of him. “I think you’re fighting Master Draxum because you’re confused,” he continued. “He’s trying to help Yokai and, by extension, us, by clearing the surface of the human threat.”

“Human threat?” April echoed skeptically, raising an eyebrow. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Other-Brother sighed and rolled his eyes. “I shouldn’t be telling you this,” he muttered. “But there’s a prophecy about a threat to the Yokai, and it’s very obviously about humans wiping them out. Anyhow, Master Draxum intends to mutate every human and make the surface safe for Yokai and other mutants like us.” He tilted his head. “You’ve had to live in hiding, haven’t you? Wouldn’t you prefer a safe world? Master Draxum is -” He broke off and grimaced as his stomach growled loudly. He wrapped an arm around his torso and continued. “He’s trying to -”

“You hungry?” Raph interrupted.

Other-Brother shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Raph pressed, retrieving a granola bar from his pocket. “We’ve got snacks.” 

Other-Brother stared at the brightly-wrapped snack. His eyes shimmered, and he bit his lip. His stomach growled again, and he shook his head. “I shouldn’t,” he mumbled. “Master Draxum said I can’t eat today. That’s my punishment for failing last night.”

Mikey felt his heart break. His chin quivered as he felt tears pooling in his eyes. Food should never be a punishment. He wanted to scream, to grab this brother and drag him back to the lair where they had pizza and Chinese food and the soup he made two nights ago when Leo thought he was getting sick. He wanted him to be okay and safe and he hated that he could do nothing but watch as he suffered.

Raph held out the bar a little more. “Well,” he said quietly. “Draxum isn’t here now, huh?”

Other-Brother didn’t move for a moment. Then, slowly, he reached for the snack. He hesitated a moment, as if worried it would burn him, then took it from Raph’s hand. He unwrapped the bar and took a hesitant bite. He grimaced a little as he chewed, looking guilty. His grip on the bar was loose, like he was hoping he’d drop it, like if he didn’t hold it too tightly he could ignore that he was disobeying orders. “Anyways,” he continued, “Draxum is trying to make the surface safe for Yokai. That should be a common goal of ours.”

Raph sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not that simple,” he said slowly. “By mutating people, Draxum will really hurt them. These are people with families, lives, that could be entirely destroyed by being mutated. Plus!” he gestured to April, “not all humans are bad! There’s some really great people up there, people who don’t deserve to be hurt like this.”

Other-Brother wrinkled his beak slightly. “Well, Master Draxum says that the only good human is a mutated one,” he replied dryly.

April bristled. “You know what -”

Mikey frowned, tilting his head. “And what do you think?” he interrupted. April broke off and glanced at him with a scowl, but didn’t attempt to continue.

Other-Brother shrugged, tossing aside the empty food wrapper. “Master Draxum has taught me that -”

“I’m not asking Draxum,” Mikey pressed, leaning forward. “I’m asking you.”

That made the stranger pause. He blinked for a moment, staring at Mikey blankly. After a few seconds, he dropped his gaze. “It doesn’t matter what I think,” he muttered.

Mikey smiled encouragingly. “Yeah, it does,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t have asked if it didn’t.”

Other-Brother remained quiet for several moments. Everyone waited, tense, anxious for his response. 

“It doesn’t,” he insisted quietly. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. “I was made by Baron Draxum, to follow his orders, and carry out his vision. It doesn’t matter what I think of his plan. It doesn’t change my purpose.”

Leo leaned back on his hands. “Well,” he said casually, “if it doesn’t matter, then it doesn’t matter, right?”

Other-Brother looked up. “What?”

Leo shrugged. “If it doesn’t make a difference what you think, then it doesn’t make a difference. You can think whatever you want, and nothing will change.” He gestured towards him. “So. . . what do you think?”

Other-Brother frowned thoughtfully. “I. . . I suppose that’s true,” he muttered.

Raph tilted his head. “So what’s up?”

Other-Brother chewed on his lip. Mikey noticed a cut where he bit and silently prayed that Draxum hadn’t caused it.

“I think humans are. . . smart,” he said finally. “I think it’s crazy what sort of inventions they come up with. Master Draxum always talks about how they’re inferior because they lack magic, but -!” He held up the GameBox he’d set down beside him. He cracked open the chipped casing and flipped it around to show them a circuit board nestled inside. “But look at this! They’re almost on par with Yokai now just with things they’ve invented! ” He was talking faster now, getting excited, as he held the board to eye level and skimmed his gaze along the surface. “I mean, they can fly and make moving images on screens and shoot fire out of sticks, with no magic! This thing is supposed to transfer information in the form of pure energy! That’s - just -” He looked up at April and held up the circuit board. “How do you think of this? How does this work ?”

April shrugged, a small, surprised smile tugging at her mouth. “I mean, I don’t understand that side of things too well,” she admitted, “but I bet we could figure it out!”

Other-Brother nodded animatedly, eyes shining, as he set down the board again. “It’s incredible!” he continued. His hands began fluttering in front of him. Mikey leaned forward, fascinated just by his enthusiasm. “There’s a million things I could make just from the stuff within five feet of us! The things that humans come up with - the ways they expand on things that already exist - I mean, microwaves? Pure radiation just to reheat food? It’s -” He broke off. The light in his eyes seemed to extinguish, his face falling perfectly blank again, as he dropped his gaze to the ground. “Sorry,” he mumbled, picking at a piece of plastic near his knee.

“What for?” Leo asked brightly. “That’s what I asked! You don’t have to stop.”

Other-Brother shook his head and cleared his throat. “Anyways, it doesn’t matter what I think,” he said yet again. “Master Draxum’s plan will succeed.”

Mikey frowned, fidgeting with his hands. “Maybe it does matter,” he said quietly. “If - if you didn’t want to hurt people, you could. . . come with us.”

Other-Brother stiffened. He looked up. “What?”

Raph shrugged. “Mikey’s right,” he agreed. “We’re brothers. If this guy is hurting you, or making you do things you don’t want to, we can help.”

Leo nodded. “You’re our brother,” he said firmly. “We’re here to help you. You’ll be safe with us.” He hesitated, then reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. There was something shimmering in his eyes, something sad and anxious that Mikey didn’t quite recognize. Other-Brother glanced at the hand on his shoulder, then at Leo.

Leo smiled sympathetically. “And you won’t be alone anymore.”

Other-Brother stared. He blinked rapidly and looked down, to the side, up at the ceiling of the cavern, seemingly anywhere to avoid looking at the others. He shook his head. “I need to fulfill my purpose,” he mumbled. “That’s what matters.”

“Nobody else can define your purpose but you,” April said, leaning forward. “Even if this guy made you, you’re still the one who should get to decide what happens with your life.” She smiled softly and tilted her head. “You deserve that.”

He met her eye for a hesitant moment, then dropped his gaze. His next words were so quiet, so helpless, that Mikey almost didn’t hear it.

“Do I?”

Mikey sat up straighter, about to protest that yes, of course he did, when Other-Brother rubbed a hand aggressively over his eyes and stood.

“I need to get back,” he said stiffly. He glanced over his shoulder, then rested his hands on his hips, eyes on the ground. The others stood, and he sighed quietly. “Master Draxum can explain this so much better,” he mumbled, pressing a hand over his eye. “If you just come with me and listen to him, you’ll understand.”

Raph’s gaze hardened, his hands resting on his flickering red tonfas at his side. “Not happening,” he said firmly. 

Other-Brother kept his eyes fixed on the ground. After a moment, he slowly lifted his hand to his back, reaching for his staff. Raph began pulling his tonfas from their place on his belt. Mikey tensed, but before he could react, something whistled behind him.

Energy hummed through the air behind Mikey, then he felt himself falling backwards into cold, bright void. He felt his stomach drop, eyes widen, mouth open in a soundless scream, before a split-second later he was lying on his shell on rough concrete. He blinked in the sudden sunlight, squinting at the bright sky.

“What was that?” April shrieked, sitting up and fixing her askew glasses.

“I portaled us out of there,” Leo said boastfully, twirling his sword to rest on his shoulder with a bow. “A-you’re welcome.”

Raph sat up, rubbing his eyes in the sudden bright light. “Why would you do that?” he snapped, pushing himself to his feet. “We could’ve taken him!”

“First of all, evidence suggests otherwise,” Leo reminded him flatly.

Raph grit his teeth. “Leo!”

“Because, we can’t fight him, Raph!” Leo shouted, turning to face him, brow low over his eyes. “If we fight him, he will keep seeing us as the enemy, which is not what we want! Draxum wants him to see us as an enemy!” He growled in agitation and turned away, hand fluttering in annoyance over his chest. “I just - we just need to talk to him a few more times, but fighting him will make it harder to convince him.”

Raph sighed, rubbing the back of his head. He glanced around the rooftop. “Where did you portal us to ?”

Leo frowned and turned to the side of the building they stood on. He squinted and shaded his eyes from the setting sun. “Maybe Brooklyn?” he suggested. “Or Boston. One of the two.”

Mikey sat up, heart still pounding from the fall. “Leo’s right!” he cried, a grin splitting his face. “Did you see? He wanted to leave! He let us go! We can help him!”

Raph’s face scrunched up. “I dunno if ‘let us go’ is the right term. He was about to attack.”

“We’ve seen how fast he can move,” Mikey insisted, scrambling to his feet. “He moved that slow on purpose, to give us time to get away before attacking.”

“He’s got a point,” Leo agreed, turning back to face them. “If he wanted to hurt us, he could’ve before I even had time to register what was going on.” 

April nodded. “I think we were getting through to him,” she said softly. She sighed and stood, dusting off her leggings. “It’s your call,” she continued. “But I think it’s worth another shot.”

Raph rubbed his chin and shook his head. “I just can’t stop thinking about being alone that long,” he murmured. “I go crazy when I can’t see you guys for a few hours.”

Mikey sighed and rested his chin in his hands. “He doesn’t have a name,” he mumbled forlornly. 

Raph nodded slowly. “We’ll help him,” he promised quietly. “We just need to figure out how.”

Turtle watched for the second time as the other turtles and the human disappeared into a portal. He stared at the empty space left behind by them, hand still gripping the staff on his back, before he dropped his arm by his side and sighed. He rubbed his eyes and turned to begin the trek back to the castle. The gargoyles were probably just getting back. By the time he returned, Master Draxum would definitely notice his absence. 

Turtle was tired. He was confused. He was hungry and yet the granola bar that Raph had given him churned in his stomach, making him sick. He’d known that the others were following him since they first landed on the roof of that shop. The trip to the junkyard had just been a ploy to try to talk to them. But, he thought, glancing at the human device he held, luckily it hadn’t been a total waste.

Their concern with his name was confusing. He truly didn’t understand why it was such a big deal. He’d experimented with a couple names when he was younger, whispering them to himself in the mirror, but nothing stuck. He’d stopped caring years ago. Or, at least, he stopped thinking about it.

Turtle ducked around a corner and checked his reflection yet again in a shop window. He had been checking on every reflective surface on the walk, ensuring that no crumbs or evidence of his snack remained. If Master Draxum realized he’d eaten, the punishment would be severe.

That was the other thing. ‘If this guy is hurting you,’ ‘You’ll be safe with us’. Why on Earth did that matter? He’d made it perfectly clear to them, his thoughts on the situation didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if he was. . . sad, or gloomy, or something. The plan was what mattered. The plan would secure the safety of the Yokai forever. That’s what was important. 

Turtle just had to play his part. Just play his part, and everything would be fine.

That assurance didn’t carry the same comfort it usually did.

Turtle shook the thought away as he finally stepped into the lair. It was quiet, aside from the disgruntled noises of Master Draxum’s less intelligent experiments, down in the lab. Turtle grimaced. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to feed them. That was always tiring, and he was shaky enough as it was.

“Turtle!”

The teenager jumped and whipped around. Draxum loomed in the entry hallway, glowering down at him. Fear clamped down on Turtle’s chest, tightening his throat. He’d caught him. He’d caught him, he’d caught him, idiot, he should’ve known better, of course he’d caught him, there was no way he wouldn’t, he -

“Ah, see, Boss!” Muninn said brightly, fluttering into Draxum’s field of view. “He was just outside, checking for damage, like we said!”

“Yep!” Huggin agreed, alighting on Draxum’s shoulder. “Checking for foundational damage .” He gave Turtle a meaningful look. “ Outside. Right, Mini-Boss?”

Turtle’s heart was thundering so hard he was sure the others could hear it, but he straightened up and nodded quickly. “Yes, of course,” he agreed hurriedly. “I just wanted to make sure the near meltdown last night didn’t damage any of the foundation!”

Huggin nodded approvingly. Muninn fluttered to Draxum’s other shoulder, eyeing Turtle anxiously.

Draxum glared down at him for a moment. His eyes flickered suspiciously over Turtle’s form. He nodded to the softshell’s hand. “Where did you get that?” he asked. His tone was light, as though making conversation about the weather, but a dangerous tone lingered underneath.

Turtle felt his stomach flip as he slowly turned to look at the human device in his hand. Shit. Shit, shit shit shit. He’d forgotten to hide it.

“Pik’s,” he lied quickly, holding it up so Draxum could see it better. “You know how he has human junk, sometimes? He gave it to me for free, because nobody wanted it.”

Master Draxum’s gaze pierced through Turtle, making him feel sick and feverish. Of course, that could have been the hunger. 

Draxum held out a hand. Turtle hesitated for less than a second, but handed the device over. He felt his heart pounding, throat closing, as Master Draxum turned it over and over in his hands.

Please, please, don’t.

Suddenly he was again six years old, watching with tears on his face as Draxum broke a colorful picture frame Muninn had brought from the junkyard to show him. 

Please, please, just let me keep it.

He was nine, fighting sobs as the Yokai tossed aside a machine he’d worked so hard on. Draxum had been disgusted by it, heedless of Turtle’s explanations of how it would help in the lab. Huggin had dug it out of the trash later, but it was too late.

Please, please, it’s so small.

He was twelve with a little clock he’d found in Pik’s shop. He’d hidden it in his room for weeks, enjoying the steady ticking and tocking, until Draxum found it and threw it against the wall, shattering it into a million pieces. Huggin and Muninn hadn’t been there that day. He’d had to pick up the broken glass and tiny gears all by himself.

Please, please, please, please.

Master Draxum scoffed condescendingly and handed it back. Relief flooded Turtle’s chest, so much that he nearly snatched it back from his grasp. He gripped it so tightly that he nearly broke the screen himself, just so grateful that it had escaped the scrutiny. That he had escaped the scrutiny. Surely, if Draxum hadn’t broken it, then he didn’t know about his little chat with the turtles? Right?

“Go put that in your room,” he ordered, turning away. “Then report to the training ring.”

The relief was quickly replaced by dread. Turtle hated the ring. Hate, hate, hated it on a good day. He was already shaky and sore, not to mention exhausted. He’d gotten barely an hour of sleep the previous night, and the night before hadn’t been much better. And starving. That granola bar had staved off his hunger for a few minutes, but it did very little overall. This was going to end very badly.

Draxum glanced over his shoulder. “Now, turtle,” he snapped.

Turtle fumbled slightly, bowing quickly before he turned to hurry to his room. The lair seemed more quiet than usual, even with the growls of the experiments in their cages. Turtle knew now why they hadn’t yet been fed.

He quickly stashed his device, gently tucking it under his pillow, and hurried back through the maze of hallways to the so-called training ring:  a big, empty room, dug slightly lower into the ground to allow any observers to look down at the fights from the windows lining the walls. There were two doors, a small one for Turtle and larger one for whatever Master Draxum selected as his opponent. If Turtle was lucky, the opponent wouldn’t be too big today.

Draxum was already stood at the window, frowning into the empty ring when Turtle approached. The Yokai tilted his head vaguely, acknowledging the teen’s approach, but didn’t fully turn. Turtle paused at the top of the short staircase to the door, which was still closed. If Draxum hadn’t yet opened it, that meant he wanted to talk.

Draxum lifted his chin. “Do you know, turtle, what separates you from my other experiments?” he asked casually.

Turtle frowned in confusion, tilting his head. “Separates me?” he echoed.

Draxum nodded. “Why I allow you such freedom and independence,” he explained, gesturing vaguely to the wall behind him, through which the growls and howls of the mutated animals could be heard, “while they are locked in cages. Do you know, turtle?”

Turtle turned the thought over in his head. Eventually, he shook his head. “I. . . I don’t, Master Draxum.”

“Intelligence,” Draxum said, rubbing a hand against his chin as he continued observing the empty ring. “That is the odd thing, isn’t it? Intelligent life, as it were. Beings with something like their own thoughts and autonomy, control over their actions rather than relying on base instinct.” He hummed. “Although, some say that this intelligence is what causes beings to do wrong in the first place. It’s wrong for a person to kill, for example, but bears only follow their instinct when they commit the same act.” He finally turned, fixing Turtle with a piercing look. “Interesting, isn’t it?” he murmured. “Right and wrong?”

Turtle only squinted at him. He knew his bemusement was clear on his face, but he couldn’t hide it. “I. . . suppose so, Master.” What did this have to do with anything?

Draxum hummed and turned back to the window, pressing a button. The door slid open at the bottom of the short staircase. Turtle hurried down into the ring. At that moment, he’d take even the ring over whatever the hell this conversation was. The door slid shut behind him. 

Turtle took a deep breath and twirled his staff easily in his hand. He crouched in a ready stance, eyes fixed on the large door across the ring. For a few seconds, there was silence. Then a bellow. The door slowly rose, and a monster lunged into the ring.

It was huge, and Turtle’s least favorite of Draxum’s experiments. A bull-like creature, with huge horns, razors-sharp hooves, and a scorpion tail. It huffed, fixing its beady black eyes on Turtle.

Damn, Draxum was in a bad mood.

The bull charged, and Turtle jumped away, spinning his staff. It landed a satisfying blow on the side of the bull’s head, but the creature reacted as though it were nothing more than a fly. It whipped towards him, froth dripping from its mouth. Turtle backed away, crouching. The bull charged, and he jumped, flipping over the creature’s head. Unfortunately, his shaky muscles didn’t seem to be as strong as usual, and he got too close to the horns.

The bull roared and whipped its head. Turtle’s arm got caught in the horn and he was thrown roughly against the wall. He couldn’t keep down a yelp of pain as his back hit the wall, his battle shell digging viciously into already-raw skin. He winced, scrambling to his feet just in time to leap aside as the bull charged again. Turtle stood shakily, gripping his staff. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, setting every sense on high alert. The bull rammed into the wall and, luckily, disoriented itself. 

That would’ve been great, if it wasn’t for that goddamn scorpion tail.

The barb whipped towards Turtle. He barely ducked in time, luckily avoiding any injury, but he did lose his chance at attacking. The bull turned again, pawing at the ground. Turtle growled in anger, meeting its gaze with just as much animosity as it held. 

He shifted across the dusty floor, carefully positioning himself in front of the open gate to the cage. The bull, predictably, charged once again. Turtle leapt away, but one of the horns did catch his leg. He cried out in pain as he hit the ground, but it was worth it. The bull hurtled into the cage. Turtle ignored his pain to lunge towards the lever on the wall. He yanked it down and the cage door slammed shut.

Game over.

Turtle slumped slightly, sighing, and pressed his hand against the new bruises on his ribs. Ribs, arms, leg, back. Everywhere.

He was a failure.

He should be able to get through these fights without injury. He was supposed to be better at this. Why was it so difficult? This was supposed to be easy. He should be faster. He should be stronger. He should be better. 

The adrenaline must have been wearing off. Turtle had never felt so drained. He heard his door open behind him, and he turned to trudge up the stairs. He could barely put one foot in front of the other, but he did, swaying as he walked. He was not looking forward to this critique, but that’s what this exercise was for. To allow Draxum to see what Turtle needed to work on or improve. And after the past couple days, there must have been a lot.

Draxum waited at the top of the stairs, arms crossed, frowning thoughtfully at his creation. “You know what the strange thing about intelligent life is?” he drawled.

Turtle fought a sigh as he mounted the stairs and stopped in front of him. “No, Master,” he murmured. “I don’t.”

“Inevitably,” he said, slowly, menacingly, “in spite of any intelligence, there must still be power structures. The weak yield to the strong, the creations to creator.”

His hand shot out. He grabbed Turtle’s upper arm in an iron grip. Turtle flinched, instinctively dropping his staff. He squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth, breath and heartbeat quickening in sync. Even in his panic, he knew better than to try and pull away.

“Turtle,” Master Draxum hissed. His fingers dug into Turtle’s skin, adding to the mosaic of bruises. “Don’t. Ever. ” He jerked his arm painfully. Turtle gasped. Draxum continued. “Lie. To me. Again.”

Then, he pushed. Hard. Turtle’s eyes snapped open in horror as he realized he was falling back, back towards the ring, back towards the monsters. His eyes flickered desperately to the staff he’d dropped.

He landed on his back, hard, with a yell of pain. He sat up, eyes wide, heart humming with fear, and reached towards the staff that lay at the top of the stairs. “Wait!”

Too late. The door slid shut, leaving him trapped and unarmed. He froze for just a moment, horror and dread clogging his throat and mind. Then, the screech of the cage opening. 

Turtle scrambled to his feet and turned, trembling, eyes wide, towards the door. From the shadows lunged a hulking, black shape, all sharp teeth and razor claws, at least three times Turtle’s size.

Bears only follow their instinct.

Turtle wanted to cry.

The giant bear creature turned to him, white eyes staring with pure malice. Turtle stumbled back and lost his footing. He scrambled away, but the bear attacked, claws swinging.

Turtle rolled out of the way. Another attack. He could do nothing but shield his face as the huge paw swiped. He felt the blood on his skin before he felt the pain in his arm. 

The bear reared back, opening its maw in a deafening roar. Turtle stumbled away, dodging another blow as he sprinted for the cage. Surely, surely, the same trick could work? Just get it to chase him in?

Something caught his leg, the same one that the bull had injured. He felt his knee twist painfully as he fell. Another swipe, heavy claws tearing into his battle shell. Turtle felt numb with fear. He couldn’t even tell if the claws had pierced his actual shell or not. He could barely think, only claw at the dirt as he fruitlessly attempted to escape the monster. The creation of his creator, made by the same person as himself.

The bear batted at the panicked Turtle. Once again, he was thrown against the wall. The breath rushed from his lungs, leaving him floundering and desperate and weak and he couldn’t fight and the monster was lumbering closer but it was so fast and he couldn’t fight.

Turtle curled up, shielding his head with his arms. Tears pooled in his eyes, fear or shame or helpless anger at himself.

“Enough.”

The bear roared in anger. Turtle shifted his arm just enough to see giant pink vines curling around the creature, dragging it back towards the cage. The big door slammed shut, and the little one opened.

“Turtle,” Draxum ordered calmly, “return to your room and wait there until summoned.” The faint sound of footsteps signaled his retreat. Turtle was alone. His punishment was over.

Alone, in pain, and so fucking hungry. 

Turtle stared in blank horror at the cage for a minute longer, half-expecting it to open again, but it didn’t. Slowly, he forced himself to his feet. He swayed as he stood, blackness creeping in on the edge of his vision. It felt like the longest walk of his life, but he made it back to his room.

Small, grey, empty, lonely.

Turtle shut the door behind him. He stared vacantly at the wall. As if from a million miles away, he heard his staff fall from his grip and hit the floor.

Turtle fell to his knees. 

Don’t cry, don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry.

Stupid, stupid stupid stupid. Of course he couldn’t lie to Draxum.

He wasn’t a Yokai, wasn’t a human, wasn’t even an animal. He was some sick twisted thing that Draxum had made - unnatural, unreal, barely alive. He didn’t have a name. He didn’t have a choice in what happened. They had called him their brother, as they called each other. But they had left. They had been rescued and become people. Turtle was left behind, and was hardly anything.

Could hardly anything have brothers?

“It doesn’t matter,” he whispered, pressing his hands over his ears and shaking his head. Blood dripped to the floor. “It doesn’t - doesn’t matter what I think.” His breath caught in his chest, heaving like a scream but sounding like a sob. He keeled forward, curling in on himself, skinned elbows pressing against cold, gritty concrete. “It doesn’t matter what I feel,” he whimpered. He barely even noticed as he fell, curling up on his side, back pressed against his bed. His breath was coming in quick, shallow gasps. Blackness curled in from the edge of his vision.

“It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter how I feel. Nobody -” He shuddered violently. “Nobody cares.”

It was as if something in him finally cracked, some shield he’d built around himself crumbling and whatever he’d been fighting crushed him. 

Turtle broke down in helpless tears. He buried his face in his bleeding arms in an attempt to muffle the sound. His entire body shook, spasming with the sobs. He was just so confused. He didn’t know what was right or wrong anymore, didn’t know what he was supposed to do or believe.

It didn’t matter.

He didn’t matter.

He was hardly anything.

Chapter Text

Howdy my dear friends!

First up, the chapter is probably going to be a little later this week. I am experiencing something known as "the consequences of my own actions" (I procrastinated a big paper and now don't have time for anything else) so it might be coming a few days later. Sorry lol.

But! I did finally make a Twitter just for this account! So, if you have a Twitter and want to come hang out, I am @1ExploringEarth

Thanks again for all the support, y'all! I'm so glad you're liking my story! Hope you're all having a good week! <3

Chapter Text

Turtle didn’t sleep that night. He lay awake on his bed, picking thoughtlessly at the bandages on his arms and leg. Huggin had brought the medical supplies to his room shortly after the fight, but Turtle wouldn’t let him in to help patch him up. Muninn had been by not long after with something to eat. Again, Turtle had waited until he’d left to open the door. He didn’t want anyone to see him.

Despite his hunger, he’d hardly been able to finish the food.

Turtle had briefly considered removing his battle shell to assess the damage, but he cringed and shuddered at the thought. He hated not having it on, hated to be vulnerable, even alone in his room. Anyhow, the creature hadn’t damaged his actual shell. The paw had just swiped through the outer hull, not even piercing the whole thing. There was no need to take it off until he had access to the lab and the tools to fix it.

As of noon the next day, Turtle was still banished to his room.

He’d spent the whole night and morning trying to ignore the conversation from the day before, forget about everything they’d said. 

We can help.

Help with what? He was fine.

I wouldn’t have asked if it didn’t.

Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up.

You deserve it.

Nope. No, he clearly did not. If he did, Draxum would let him choose what he wanted. Baron Draxum was a genius, a warlord alchemist who would be the salvation of the Yokai and save them from extinction. His name would be remembered forever. 

As far as Turtle was concerned, his word was law.

He could never leave with them. Every encounter with them would have to end in a fight.

So why did he so badly want to see them again? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about them? It felt like he’d finally woken up from some lifelong haze, and now all he wanted to do was reenter it and forget about his confusion and conflict. He was so tired of fighting himself, tearing himself apart. He wished he could go back to following orders without a thought. He longed for when he could follow Master Draxum with unwavering faith.

He was so, so tired.

Turtle sat on his bed, turning the human device he’d taken over and over in his hands in an attempt to occupy his mind. He studied the circuit board, memorizing the patterns and lines and comparing them to others he’d seen. The library had painfully little on human technology, but he’d found a pamphlet on computers once. It mentioned that the computer ‘read’ the circuit boards, like a book. Turtle often wondered if these strange patterns were some sort of language, something he could learn and understand.

Oh, how he wished to understand.

There was a tap at his door.

“Hey, Mini-Boss?” Huggin called hesitantly. “Baron Draxum wants to talk to you.”

Turtle sighed and tucked the device away again, reaching instead for his staff. He leaned on it heavily, trying to keep the weight off his injured knee, as he opened the door. 

“Did he say why?” he asked. His voice sounded strange, weak, reedy, even to him. God, he was tired.

Huggin winced a little and shook his head. “No, he, uh. . . no.” He hesitated and looked away. “Sorry.”

Turtle shrugged and stepped into the hallway, limping towards the front of the castle. “He rarely tells anyone what he wants,” he muttered.

“Not for that,” Huggin corrected, fluttering slowly alongside him. “For. . . for yesterday.” He sighed and looked away. “Just, for encouraging you to stay behind. Or for not stalling well enough. We really thought -”

“Don’t,” Turtle muttered, rubbing his eyes. He couldn’t bear to hear this, couldn’t bear to hear again about his crime. “Please, just don’t.” His head was spinning.

Huggin paused. “Right. Sorry.” He cleared his throat and nodded down the hallway. “Anyways, Muninn and I’ll be cleaning out the cages,” he said, forcing a brighter tone. “If you want to hang out after.”

Turtle thought he’d rather die.

“Okay.”

Huggin fluttered away and Turtle continued on, still using his staff as a cane. When he reached the front room, he tucked the bo away and forced himself to straighten up. He didn’t want Master Draxum to see he was in pain.

Turtle took a deep breath and stepped into the room. “Master Draxum,” he greeted quietly. “You wanted to see me?”

Draxum looked up from the calculations in front of him. Turtle tensed a little under his gaze, but, to his surprise, Draxum’s expression softened when he saw him.

“Yes,” Draxum agreed, gesturing to the armchair across from him. “I think we should talk.”

Turtle froze. That was the second time he’d heard that recently, and the first had not ended well. Plus, it had been years since Master Draxum had called him to just talk. It had been more frequent when he was younger, when Draxum was more active in his life, way back when they both thought Turtle would grow into the great warrior Draxum had made him to be. But as the years continued on and Turtle failed to meet his expectations, over and over and over again, Master Draxum had drawn away.

Draxum chuckled slightly. “I promise, this is just a talk,” he said, as though reading Turtle’s thoughts. “It’s been too long, and for that,” he smiled a little, “I apologize.”

Huh. Well, that was a rarity.

Turtle stepped forward and settled on the edge of the armchair Draxum had indicated. He kept his eyes on his bandaged hands, shoulders hunched, elbows resting on his knees.

“How are your wounds?”

“Fine, Master Draxum,” he said hurriedly, clasping his hands together to keep them from fidgeting. “I patched it up.”

“Have you been resting?” he continued. “Sleeping okay?”

No. “Yes.” 

“Good.” There was a long pause, in which Turtle felt his chest tightening. He waited for the other shoe to drop, for Draxum to reveal that he’d discovered something else wrong that Turtle didn’t even remember he’d done. 

His hands began to shake and his knee began bouncing, without him even noticing. He didn’t know how long he could handle this.

Draxum sighed. “Turtle, I’m sorry.”

Turtle’s gaze snapped up, wide with dismay. “What?!”

Draxum smiled ruefully. “I’m afraid I’ve been. . . distant, lately,” he continued.

Sure, if by ‘lately’ he meant the last three years.

“I’ve been distracted, and. . .” He shook his head and his voice softened. “These last few days have been hard for you. I didn’t understand that at first, but, well,” he chuckled and nodded back towards the doorway. “The gargoyles may be motormouths with no regard for what they say, but sometimes they make good points.”

Turtle chuckled nervously as his mind raced. Had they stood up for him? “Well,” he ventured slowly, “a broken clock is right twice a day.”

Draxum laughed. “Indeed. And two broken clocks, twice that many.”

“As long as they’re broken at different points.”

“Precisely.”

Turtle felt his shoulders relaxing, a hesitant smile forming on his face. Maybe, just maybe, this could be okay.

Draxum waved his hand slightly. “All this to say,” he continued, “I should have been more aware of the position you were in. I imagine that suddenly seeing the creatures made alongside you was. . . disortienting, to say the least.” He frowned. “Of course, that’s no excuse for acting out yesterday.”

Turtle ducked his head. “Of course,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t like punishing you, turtle. It’s not something I enjoy.” He sighed. “But if you lie to me, you must be prepared to face the consequences for your actions. It’s not the fact that you stayed at the junkyard, it’s that you lied about it. Do you understand?”

Turtle nodded quickly. “Yes, Sir, I do. It won’t happen again.”

There was another long pause. Draxum leaned forward. “Do you have any questions?” he asked.

Turtle looked up, chewing on his lip thoughtfully. “How many?” he asked softly.

Draxum shrugged. “As many as you have,” he replied lightly.

Turtle’s jaw dropped. “Any of them?” he pressed in dismay. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been granted unlimited questions. He didn’t know if it had ever happened. “As many as I want?” This was remarkable. Monumental. Unbelievable. As many questions as he wanted?

“Well,” Draxum amended with a chuckled, “preferably ones relating to recent events, but yes. As many as you need to ask to feel certain about things again.”

“Wow.” Turtle huffed and sat back, pressing a hand against his forehead. “Wow, okay, just - gimme a second to - any of them?”

“Any of them. And,” Draxum rested a hand on his heart, “I promise to not get angry.”

Turtle wasn’t so sure he believed that. Even now, with Draxum in such a good mood, he knew he still had to be careful. If he’d learned anything from his lifetime under his care, it was to be wary of his mood swings.

Turtle shook the thought away and rubbed his chin. His mind raced with a million questions, every one he’d ever wanted to ask piling up. With the option of apparently limitless inqueries, he suddenly couldn’t arrange them in a manageable form. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, mentally tallying through each one. Draxum leaned back and waited patiently. 

Eventually, Turtle took a deep breath and looked up again. “If we do convince them to join us,” he said slowly, “we’d be a team, right?”

Draxum nodded. “That has always been the plan,” he agreed. “Of course, you’ve grown up separately so it might be a bit more of a challenge. But, yes, I believe you’d be stronger working together than as independent agents.”

Turtle nodded slowly. “What exactly would our role be?” he ventured. “I assume you built the plan with the four of us. Once we get them all, would we be able to fully enact the plan?”

A smile twitched at Draxum’s mouth. “Well, turtle, I’ve had thirteen years to make up for my loss,” he reminded him with an ironic smile. “Believe me, I’m more than prepared to enact the plan with you alone, if it comes to that.” He sighed and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “As for the first question, well. . . you’d largely be enforcement. Clearing the way for my mosquitos, stopping any resistance, finding any humans who escaped the mutation.”

Turtle thought suddenly of the human girl from the day before. April. He’d been so rude to her, yet she still smiled and told him he deserved better. He tried to imagine hunting her down and killing her.

He felt a little sick, again.

Draxum shrugged. “You understand. It sounds simple in as many words, but it will be a big job.”

“Right.” Turtle returned his gaze to the bandages on his arms. He picked at the edge of one and chewed on his lip. Slowly, he looked up. “You promise you won’t get mad?” he whispered.

Draxum nodded. “I will just explain the answer,” he agreed.

Turtle took a deep breath. “There are good and bad Yokai,” he murmured. “There must be good and bad humans too. Why should the good be hurt with the bad?” His shoulders hiked up a little. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

Draxum sighed. “Ah, one of the biggest issues in war,” he murmured thoughtfully. He pondered the question for a moment, then sat forward. “Picture a forest fire,” he began,

Turtle looked up. “Huh?”

“Humor me.” Draxum waved his hand. “See, on the surface, forest fires were historically used in what humans call ‘controlled burns’ in order to clear old, dead vegetation from a landscape, so new things can grow without being suffocated by the old.” He raised his eyebrows. “Are you with me so far?”

Turtle nodded.

“Well, in that dead or overgrown vegetation there may be some that is perfectly healthy. But their contribution is negligible when compared to that of the dead material, which must be cleared in order for the ecosystem to survive.” He tented his fingers. “It is much the same with humans,” he explained. “The Yokai must survive and rise to power again. In order to do so, humans must be cleared from the surface. It’s unfortunate, yes, that some may be inadvertently harmed, but. . .” He shrugged. “Such is life.”

That didn’t make much sense. The fire couldn’t control what it burned, but Draxum had sentience and choice. Why should he compare himself and his carefully constructed plan to something uncontrollable, raging?

And April had been so nice.

Turtle twisted his hands together before he settled on his last question, the one that had concerned the others far more than himself. “Why don’t I have a name?”

Draxum shrugged. “Well, I considered giving you one at first,” he admitted, “but I never got around to finding one I liked. Then, you started answering to ‘turtle’, and I suppose I just forgot about it.” He raised his eyebrows. “Would you like a proper name?”

Turtle shrugged. “Maybe.”

“What name would you like?”

He shrugged again, eyes on the floor. “I’m not sure,” he mumbled. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“Well, if you think of one, just tell me. I don’t see any reason you shouldn’t have one.” Draxum tilted his head. “Do you have any other questions?”

Turtle carefully mulled over his disordered thoughts, picking through each one. He felt more confused than ever, but he couldn’t articulate what he wanted to know. “No,” he said finally. “I don’t think so.”

Draxum nodded approvingly and stood. “Then let’s get something to eat,” he suggested. “I’m starving.”

Turtle grinned and stood.

Draxum rested a hand on his shoulder. “Turtle?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“I hope we got this whole mess sorted out.”

Turtle didn’t know what changed. He didn’t know if Draxum’s grip tightened ever-so-slightly, or if his smile was just a little too wide. He didn’t know. But he knew that the feeling of safety he’d been harboring through the conversation suddenly weakened. 

He couldn’t get too comfortable. He had to remember that.

“Of course, Master Draxum.”

“Good. I have a few missions for you after lunch.”

Turtle fought a sighed and nodded, limping obediently along after him.

Leo peered out from his room. It was dark, the entire lair quiet. He slipped out to the atrium, tense, alert for any sound.

Unfortunately, Mikey was very sneaky.

“Where are you going?”

Leo jumped, barely choking back a yelp of surprise as he whirled around. The box turtle stood, frowning. One hand rested on his hip, the other held an old book. He was in his pajamas, dark circles under his eyes.

“Mikey!” Leo squeaked, scrambling for a more casual tone. He shifted his sword in his grip, as though he could somehow hide it from view. “Just, y’know, heading to the kitchen. Midnight munchies, amirite?”

Mikey scowled. “So you changed out of your pajamas and got your sword to go get a midnight snack?” he pressed skeptically.

Leo shrugged. “Well. Y’know, figured I’d get an early start to the day.”

“It’s 1 am.”

He pressed his lips together and nodded. “Yep.”

“You can’t fool me,” Mikey hissed, stepping forward and jabbing a finger into his chest. He looked angry, much angrier than he usually did when Leo snuck out. “You’re going to talk to Other-Brother again, aren’t you?”

Leo sighed and waved his hand away. “Ok, fine,” he admitted, “but can you blame me? We’ve been sitting around for a whole day doing nothing!”

“No, but I can blame you for doing it without us!” Mikey’s brow furrowed, hurt shining in his big eyes. “Why are you sneaking out? We all agreed we’d try again tomorrow!”

Leo hesitated, glancing away. “I know,” he mumbled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “I just think I should try to talk to him alone.”

“But why?”

He sighed and rocked back on his heels, frowning at the graffiti littering the skate ramp. Mikey stepped back and waited as he carefully considered his words. 

“I don’t know exactly how to explain it,” Leo began slowly. “But. . .” He finally looked up to meet Mikey’s eye again. “You ever heard of that twin telepathy thing?”

Mikey startled, brow furrowing. “What?”

“There’s this thing people say, that twins can, like, read each other’s minds or something,” Leo explained. “I’ve even heard stories about twins who’ve been separated at birth feeling super lonely, like they were missing some important piece of themselves, before they even knew they had a twin.”

Mikey’s face softened. “Have you been looking into this?” he asked softly. “The last couple days?”

“No, Mikey, I’ve been looking into this my whole life,” Leo said desperately. “Because I’ve felt it ever since I was little - this missing piece, or something, that I remembered but didn’t remember, and I needed to know why . And then yesterday, when we talked to him, it was like - like - like it fit, suddenly.”

Mikey tilted his head. “Like a missing puzzle piece?” he pressed.

Leo shook his head slowly. “No,” he murmured, rubbing his chin. “I didn’t feel incomplete. More like - salt and pepper shakers!” He snapped his fingers and grinned as the idea came to him. “Like, I’m still a whole salt shaker, right? But without the pepper shaker, it just looks wrong. And maybe I’d only had salt and never seen pepper, but when I see the pepper shaker, it’s a matching set! So I saw the pepper shaker, and even though it didn’t look exactly like me, a salt shaker, the pepper shaker completed the set!”

Mikey stared blankly. He shook his head. “You’re losing me.”

Leo groaned and pinched the bridge between his eyes. “I just need you to trust me on this,” he mumbled.

Mikey frowned, looking down at the book he held. “Why didn’t you ever mention this sooner?” he asked quietly.

Leo bit his lip and looked away. “Because I thought I was going crazy,” he murmured.

The moment hung between them for a moment, tense and quiet, before Mikey sighed.

“Alright,” he said finally. “Fine. But be careful.”

Leo grinned and pulled him into a one-armed hug. “Thanks, little man.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Big man,” he corrected, pulling away from the hug before Mikey could avenge the perceived insult. “Alright, I’ll be -”

“Wait!” Mikey hesitated, then held up the book. Leo felt himself smile as he recognized it, soft memories of lying on the floor and flipping through the worn pages with his brothers resurfacing. 

Renowned Artists of the Renaissance. 

“Can you bring him this?” Mikey asked. “So he can pick a name, too?”

Leo nodded and accepted the tome, tucking it under his arm. “Sure thing.” He rustled the top of Mikey’s head and turned to leave. “I’ll be back by morning,” he assured him with a smile.

Mikey nodded, but didn’t turn away before Leo ducked down the tunnel.

The Hidden City really was beautiful. Leo didn’t have much of an eye for art (that was always Mikey’s forte), but he could appreciate an impressive skyline when he saw one. The slider crouched on the roof of a taller building, looking down on the crowds milling below. He could see no sign of the Other-Brother, as Mikey had called him, nor the Baron or his gargoyles. Leo frowned, eyeing the looming silhouette of Draxum’s lair out on the edge of town. He hadn’t really thought this far ahead. 

Leo spent a few more minutes watching the crowd of late night adventurers before he sighed and stood. Looked like the only option was some good old-fashioned crime. He twirled his sword in front of him, willing for a portal, but the only thing he managed to create was some paltry sparks. Scowling, he made the trek on foot.

The castle was dark and deathly quiet. Leo crouched behind a stalactite across the moat, skimming the grounds and walls for any traps or alarms. He couldn’t spot any, but something stopped him from moving forward.

“You’ve got to learn to be stealthier.”

Leo clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle a scream of surprise and he jumped away from the voice, heart jumping. He landed on his shell and scrambled away. Other-Brother quirked an eyebrow. Amusement glimmered in his eyes, but he didn’t smile.

Leo sighed in annoyance and stood, leaning on his sword. “Again,” he pointed at the other turtle, “don’t do that!”

A half-hearted, tired smile twitched at Other-Brother’s mouth. “Again: don’t make it so funny.” His hint of a smile fell, and he glanced over Leo’s shoulder at the castle. “What’re you doing here?” He raised his eyebrows. “Have you come to join us?”

Leo winced a little at the hope in his voice and shook his head. “Uh, no, still not interested.” He glanced at the box tucked under Other-Brother’s arm. “What’re you doing out so late?”

“Hm?” Other-Brother followed his gaze to the box and shrugged. “Ah, just taking care of. . . something.” He cleared his throat and glanced away. “Business for Master Draxum.”

Leo looked at his face again. The dim light had mostly obscured it at first, but he looked, in short, like shit. He was shaky and wobbly, and his armored shell seemed badly damaged. Dark bags hollowed his eyes, fresh bruises and cuts marred his drawn face, and Leo suspected there were more hidden under his mask. His eyes were anxious, flickering around even as they seemed to droop with exhaustion. Blood-stained bandages cocooned his arms and one leg, and he was heavily favoring his weight on one side of his body. 

Leo frowned in concern and met his eye. “What happened to you?” he whispered.

Other-Brother shrugged. “Training.” He sounded so, so tired. “Why are you here?”

Leo shrugged hesitantly. “To talk, I guess?”

“So you can try and convince me to go with you?” Other-Brother surmised, sounding unimpressed. “Why are you so concerned with making me leave?”

“Because! You -” Leo gestured vaguely at him. “You’re being hurt! And he doesn’t give you any freedom!”

“Ah. I see.” Other-Brother crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “So, your solution to me quote-unquote ‘not having freedom’ is to continue harassing me until I cave? How does that make you any better?”

Leo shrank back and looked away. “Well, when you put it like that. . . ” he muttered sullenly. He sighed and looked up again. “Can we just talk, then?” he ventured anxiously. “If you don’t want to, I - I’ll leave.”

Other-Brother relaxed, only slightly. “What do you want to talk about?”

Leo smiled and shrugged. “I guess I want to get to know you better,” he admitted. “Our last talk wasn’t a very good introduction.”

Other-Brother frowned intently at him, then the dark castle behind Leo. He chewed on his lip, clearly fighting an internal debate, before he sighed and tilted his head toward an outcrop of rocks. “We can hide better over here,” he mumbled, trudging towards the shelter. Leo rested his odachi on his shoulder and followed.

Other-Brother set down the box on the ground and carefully shifted himself to sit next to it. He winced as he did, hissing in pain. Leo noticed that he kept his bandaged knee straight out in front of him. 

He tilted his head. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Just tired,” Other-Brother mumbled, rubbing his eyes with one hand. “I haven’t been sleeping much. Master Draxum went to sleep right after sending me out on this mission, though, so we should have some time.”

Leo bit his lip, but decided not to press. He sat next to him and leaned back against the rock. “City looks nice from here,” he said brightly, folding his hands behind his head.

Other-Brother nodded. “This is my favorite spot,” he admitted quietly. He glanced at Leo out the corner of his eye. “If you’re caught,” he added, “it won’t end well. For. . . either of us.” He cleared his throat and looked away, absent-mindedly scratching at the bandages on his arm. Leo winced as a fresh blood stain sprouted from the disturbance. “So, I can’t talk for too long.”

Leo forced a smile. “No problem!” he agreed.

Other-Brother tugged at his bandages. After a moment, he glanced at Leo. “Did you know about me?” he asked quietly. “About. . . any of this?”

Leo bit his lip and looked away. “No,” he murmured. “We had to go back and ask our dad about it.”

“Did he. . . say why he left me?” His voice cracked on the last word.

Leo’s gaze snapped back to his, jaw dropped in horror. Other-Brother wasn’t looking at him, focused fully on the bandages on his hands.

“No!” Leo gasped, reaching over to rest a hand on his shoulder. Other-Brother flinched away. Leo hesitated and drew his hand back, shaking his head. “No, no, it wasn’t like that,” he said quietly. “It was an honest mistake. He didn’t realize you were there.”

Other-Brother nodded slowly.

Leo tilted his head. “Ok, personal question,” he began slowly. Other-Brother nodded again, and Leo continued. “Do you agree with Draxum’s plan?”

Other-Brother groaned and ran a hand down his haggard face. “I’ve already told you,” he mumbled, “it doesn’t matter what I think.”

“Well, pretend it does for a second,” Leo pressed, leaning forward. “Pretend you could walk in there and say ‘Hey, new idea!’ and ol’ Draxy would go,” Leo dropped his voice to a gruff impression of the voice, “‘Of course, why didn’t I think of that before!’” He dropped the act and leaned back against the stone. “What would you suggest?”

Other-Brother chuckled a little, then shrugged. “I guess. . . I’d want to deploy diplomats or something to the humans,” he decided. He glanced up at Leo. “Or, even - our magic and alchemy has advanced so much since we were driven underground. There’s got to be a way we could make a colony aboveground. Maybe even make cloaking talismans more common, easier to access - there’s got to be a way.”

Leo tilted his head. “But you don’t want to hurt humans?” he asked softly.

Other-Brother dropped his gaze. “I guess not,” he whispered.

Leo leaned forward. “Then come with me,” he insisted desperately. “Come back with me, and you won’t have to! We can help you. We’ll protect you. You’ll be safe with us.”

The other turtle squeezed his eyes shut. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“Because - because you’re you, ” he said weakly. “Because you’re Leo, and you know who that is. You’re a person on your own. I’m just Baron Draxum’s experiment, or his muscle, or his. . .” He poked the box next to him aggressively. “His errand boy .” His voice dripped with disgust at the title, with weak, tired anger. He shook his head and looked back up at Leo. “I’m nothing without him,” he whispered. “I only exist in his vicinity, my relation to him. Do you get it?”

Leo felt as though he could cry. He hated everything he was saying, hated Draxum for hurting him and making him believe this about himself. Part of him still hated Splinter for leaving him at all.

But that didn’t matter right now. One step at a time.

Leo forced a smile and nudged the other turtle. “Well, he’s not here now, and you haven’t dropped dead. I’d even say you’re pretty cool!”

Other-Brother rolled his eyes. “You barely even know me,” he muttered. 

“C’mon, there’s gotta be something else there. I know there’s more to you than you realize.”

Other-Brother tilted his head. “How would I even know?”

Leo hesitated. He wasn’t as sure about that. He wasn’t terribly prepared for this conversation. More than anything, he’d come down because he wanted to see him again. He hadn’t been lying to Mikey earlier. This Other-Brother did seem to fill some gap that Leo had always felt, the ghost that had haunted him his whole life now flesh and blood.

His eyes flickered yet again to the bandages.

A lot of blood, apparently.

Leo had mostly just wanted to see if that strange peace was a fluke of some sort or a real feeling. He wasn’t exactly prepared for these questions.

He frowned and rested his head back against the cool, gritty stone. He didn’t want to overwhelm him with any more big questions, but Other-Brother needed to realize he was his own person. What was the simplest way to do that?

Leo grinned and glanced at the turtle - his twin, he decided - beside him. “How about a good old-fashioned game of ‘What’s Your Favorite’?” he suggested. “You already said this is your favorite spot. So, my favorite spot is the top of April’s apartment building on a summer night, when you can see people out on their balconies and stuff hanging out.”

Other-Brother nodded slowly. “That does sound nice,” he murmured.

“Ok.” Leo crossed his arms and shifted and little to face him more. “My favorite color is blue. Yours?” 

Other-Brother tilted his head thoughtfully. “Purple,” he decided. He pointed to a spot on the ceiling. “Sometimes the theater near here lights up the ceiling purple when they’re doing some special sort of show. I always look forward to it.” 

Leo grinned. “Hell yeah.” They lapsed into silence for a moment. He nudged the other turtle. “Your turn, dude.”

Other-Brother shrugged. “I honestly don’t think about my favorite things too often,” he admitted. He kept his eyes on his hands, fiddling with the sparse vegetation that sprouted through the gravel. “It’s not something I concern myself with.”

Leo winced. This just kept getting worse and worse. The quicker he could convince him to join them, the better. He took a deep breath and nodded. “Well, my favorite food is Hawaiian pizza.”

“Hawaiian?” Other-Brother echoed in disgust, fixing Leo with a horrified look. “What possesses you?”

Leo grinned. “So I’m assuming yours is not Hawaiian pizza?”

“Scoff! Never!”

He burst into laughter, pressing a hand over his mouth to muffle it. “Did you just say ‘scoff’ out loud?” he wheezed, tears brimming in his eyes.

“Oh, coming from the guy who just openly admitted to eating pineapple on pizza!” Other-Brother retorted, flicking a balled-up leaf at Leo as the slider continued laughing. “What kind of unholy union is that?”

Leo wiped his eyes, grinning. “Alright, then, what’s yours?”

Other-Brother waved his hand. “The gargoyles sometimes bring me nacho fries,” he replied. “Those are pretty good.”

Leo raised his eyebrows. “You’re going to judge me for pineapple on pizza when your favorite is nacho fries?” he clarified incredulously.

“That’s correct. Yours is an abhorrent crime against whatever god there is, mine is cheese and potatoes. The two were born for each other.” He elbowed Leo sharply. “You’ve got no room to judge me, Pineapple Guy.”

Leo brightened up. “Oh, that reminds me!” He sat up and pulled out the book Mikey had given him from where he’d stashed it in his bag. “I brought you something!”

Other-Brother frowned and shifted closer. “For me?” he echoed, sounding confused. 

Leo nodded and held up the book so he could read the title. “See, the names we told you are actually our nicknames,” he explained, flipping to the table of contents. “We chose our names after artists from this book. Here.” He pointed to one chapter title. “My full name is actually Leonardo, Mikey is Michelangelo, and Raph is Raphael.” He handed Other-Brother the book so he could look it over. “Mikey asked me to give this to you. In case. . . y’know, in case you want to choose a name like we did.” He kept his eyes on Other-Brother’s face as he studied the book. He didn’t know how he’d react. Given his confusion the last time they asked for his name, it was unlikely he really even cared.

Other-Brother flipped through some of the paintings and sculptures on the pages. His eyes seemed to drink in every detail, every word, hungry for knowledge, wanting to learn. After a moment though, his face hardened and he shut the book. “I shouldn’t,” he mumbled.

“Why?” Leo asked bluntly. He was getting a little sick of philosophical debates.

Other-Brother shook his head. “I’m not one of you.”

“Yeah you are.”

“No!” He shook his head sharply. “Because I’m - I’m here, and you’re out there.”

“Well, we’re both here now.” Leo reached across him and opened the book again. “C’mon, just something you like the sound of. We’re getting tired of calling you ‘Other-Brother’.”

“Why? It’s catchy.”

“It’s a mouthful. Plus, it sounds like the name of a bad metal band.”

“I’d call that a plus.”

“Dude.”

Other-Brother gave him an annoyed look, but turned his focus back to the list in the book. His fingers, knuckles dark with bruises, traced over the words. He hesitated, then picked up the book and passed it back to Leo. “Can you read them?” he asked nervously. “So I can see what sticks?”

Leo smiled and squinted in the dim light. “Okay, we’ve got. . . Botticelli?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Second that.” He tilted his head. “Brun - Brunesch - no, wait -”

Other-Brother smiled a bit. “If you can’t pronounce it,” he said, “it’s probably not a great choice.”

Leo laughed. “Alrighty. . . Oh, this one’s fun: Jan van Eyck.”

 Other-Brother snorted. “Eyck,” he echoed. “Sounds like someone about to throw up.”

“We could call you Jan Van.”

“ That sounds like a bad band name.”

“True.” Leo flipped to the next page. “There’s Vasari, Bosch, Bellini, Donatello -”

Other-Brother sat up slightly. “Say that last one again?” he asked. Something hopeful flickered in his eyes.

Leo looked up eagerly. “Donatello?” he repeated.  

Other-Brother nodded slowly. “Donatello,” he said quietly.

Leo grinned. “Donatello,” he echoed. “I like it.” He tilted his head. “What do you think? That fits?”

The turtle nodded. “That’s me,” he whispered, eyes shining. A grin stretched across his face. He nodded and turned to look at Leo. “I’m Donatello!”

Leo’s grin widened, heart almost jumping with glee. He shut the book and held out a hand. “Good to finally meet you, Donatello!”  

Donatello accepted the handshake. “We’ve already met.”

“Yeah, but now we know your name.” He folded his legs under him and rested the book on his lap. “Can I call you Donnie?”

Donatello grinned. “Nicknames seem to be the norm, so yes.”

Leo was practically vibrating at this point, but before he could say anything else, a deep voice cut across the moment.

“Turtle!”

Donnie froze and whirled around, eyes wide with horror as he scrambled to his feet. Leo instinctively pressed his back against the cover of the boulder, craning his neck to get a view of what was happening.

Baron Draxum loomed, standing on a broad pink vine, over the outcropping. Donnie trembled, clutching the box he’d been carrying.

“Master Draxum,” he whispered. He cleared his throat and straightened up. Leo still saw him shivering. He grit his teeth and gripped his sword, but Donnie waved his hand. Subtly, almost too minute to see, but clear nonetheless.

Stay hidden.

Donnie drew his shoulders back. “I settled that debt you wanted,” he said, holding up the box. “It took a while for them to find everything. That’s why I’m so late.” 

The silence was deafening. Leo shuddered, gripping his sword so tightly that his knuckles turned white. In that moment, his phone buzzed with an incoming call.

Leo froze. He saw Donnie stiffen.

Baron Draxum finally spoke again.

“Now, turtle,” he drawled. “What have I told you about lying?”

Chapter Text

Raph awoke with a start and sat up, frowning into the darkness. His eyes narrowed. “My older brother senses are tingling,” he whispered. There was no reply. Of course. He hadn’t expected one. Still, something was wrong, and Raph needed to get to the bottom of it. 

He brushed aside the piles of teddy bears that he always slept with and stood, trotting out to the atrium. It was still and silent. He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. Almost 2 am. Hopefully the others would just be asleep, and he could relax. Well, relax as well as he had been able to the last couple days. The discovery of the Other-Brother had set him on edge, constantly anxious. It had been easier to reassure himself when he could see that his brothers were safe. With the new guy in constant danger, somewhere Raph couldn’t help him, he hadn’t been sleeping as well. 

Raph paused outside Mikey’s room. The box turtle was curled up on stomach in his hammock, shell rising and falling with steady breaths. Raph could tell that he wasn’t quite asleep. He’d check on Leo and April first, then come back and make sure Mikey was okay.

The lights were off in Leo’s room. Raph knocked lightly on the doorframe to see if he’d respond. After a few seconds of silence, he brushed the curtain lightly aside. His heart dropped, and he swept it open.

Empty.

Raph felt his chest tightening, but forced himself to take a few deep breaths and step back. Ok. Ok. Leo had trouble sleeping on a good night. He was probably just up somewhere in the lair. No need to panic.

Raph poked his head into the game room. Quiet, empty but for April’s sleeping form on the couch. She had decided to crash with them after they had spent all day discussing possible plans to convince Other-Brother to join them, so they could get an early start the next day. Raph was relieved to see that she was still in place, but his heart began pounding even harder at the lack of Leo.

Kitchen. TV room. Gym. Every nook and cranny in the lair. All empty.

Leonardo was nowhere to be found. 

Now Raph was panicking.

He paced from one room to the next, frantically wondering what he had missed, where he could be, when he passed Mikey’s room again and froze.

Slowly, Raph stepped into the bedroom. Mikey was still curled up on the hammock, desperately trying to feign sleep. But Raph knew better.

He crossed his arms. “Mikey.”

Mikey’s breath hitched for the slightest moment, but it was enough confirmation.

Raph flicked the lights on. “Michelangelo,” he continued, “where is Leo?”

Mikey made a big show of stretching and yawning before he sat up and rubbed his eye, blinking at Raph. “What?” he asked innocently.

Raph glowered at him. “Where. Is. Leo?”

“Oh.” Mikey fidgeted with his hands. “Is he, um, not here?”

“Mikey. . .” Raph’s voice was warning, low. 

Mikey grimaced and looked away. “He, um. . . went on a walk?”

Raph’s grip tightened on his arms. “Where?”

Mikey’s shell hiked up a little. “. . . Other-Brother,” he mumbled.

“Uuuugh!” Raph roared, turning away as he pressed his hands against his eyes. “That idiot! Why would he do that?” He turned back to the box turtle curled up on the hammock. “Why did you let him?” he snapped. “Why didn’t you come get me?”

Mikey shrugged. “It made sense when he explained it!” he cried. “Like a ghost, and he was a salt shaker and Other-Brother’s the pepper!”

“What?” Raph groaned and shook his head. “Mikey, you should’ve come to get me!”

“Oh, what,” Mikey scoffed, hopping out of his bed, “so you could yell at him, we’d all go back to bed, and he’d sneak out anyways?”

Raph scowled, but he knew he was right. Leo was nothing if not a stubborn bastard.

There was a loud groan from the atrium. “Why are we yellingggggg?” April shouted. “It’s two in the morning!”

Raph groaned and stepped out to the main room. April was leaning against the doorframe of the game room on the level above, glaring. Mayhem sat between her feet, looking equally disgruntled.

“Leo snuck out!” Raph called, pulling out his phone.

April rolled her eyes and turned back to the game room. “Of course he did. . .” she muttered. 

Mikey appeared at Raph’s shoulder, already dressed and tying his mask around his eyes. “I think we should trust him,” he said firmly. “He sounded pretty confident.”

Raph shook his head. “Confident doesn’t matter,” he muttered. He glanced at his little brother. “I’m assuming he took the portal key?”

Mikey shrugged. “Probably.”

Raph growled to himself. “We leave in five,” he muttered, stalking to his room. By the time he was ready, April was already standing next to Mikey, leaning on her baseball bat with a concerned frown, Mayhem on her shoulder.

“So Leo went to talk to Other-Brother by himself, and took the only way we know of to get down there,” she summarized. “How the hell are we going to go after him?”

Raph hesitated, then shrugged. “Let’s just get to the surface,” he huffed. “I’ll figure it out.”

The air was cool with a late autumn breeze. Cars honked, somebody laughed on the street, but Raph was too angry to enjoy the beauty. He peered from the rooftop, part of him still hoping to see his brother just lounging on a chimney somewhere, but of course he wasn’t. 

Raph pulled out his phone. He pressed it to his ear and listened to the ringing chime. 

“Do they even get reception in the Hidden City?” Mikey queried, crouching on the wall and looking up at Raph curiously.

Raph shushed him as the ringing stopped.

“Hellooooo my dear admirers!” Leo’s voice sang from the phone. “Unfortunately, I’m probably out saving the world or breaking hearts, so I can’t answer the phone! Tell me who you are and what’s up, and if it doesn’t sound boring, I might call you back!”

Then a beep.

Raph seethed. “Leo!” he snapped. “Where are you? I swear, you’d better -”

April grabbed his arm. “Raph!”

Raph paused and turned to follow her gaze, towards the harbor. Mikey was already looking, eyes wide.

A blue portal flickered in the distance, over the tops of the cargo ships, then a familiar voice yelled something they couldn’t make out. Pink vines sprouted from the ground, writhing towards a darting target.

Raph gasped. “Leo!”

Mikey pointed at another figure running through the chaos. “Other-Brother!”

April hefted her bat. “Mayhem!” she called, turning to the creature lounging on the wall. “Can you help us out?”

The creature purred and jumped to the air. A blue flash later, Raph found himself standing in the middle of the shipyard. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. 

“I’m never gonna get used to that,” he muttered.

Leo’s voice echoed off the metal around them. “Look out!” he shrieked.

Raph ducked, April and Mikey dove out of the way, as a shipping palette crashed where they had been standing moments before. Leo yelled as he was thrown to the ground from. . . somewhere. Raph’s mind was having trouble catching up with his surroundings.

Leo rolled to his feet, just as Other-Brother appeared from the carnage, bo staff twirling. Leo blocked his attacks easily. Almost too easily. Other-Brother looked slower, sluggish, like his strength was flagging.

That, or he was holding back.

“Leo!” Raph shouted, stumbling to his feet and running to join the fight.

Leo turned, eyes wide and panicked. “Guys just - just wait a sec!” he called. 

Other-Brother landed a blow on the slider’s shoulder.

Leo reeled back, rubbing the strike. “C’mon, man!” he groaned. “We were bonding! Cut it out!”

“It’s not up to me!” Other-Brother snapped. His voice sounded a little higher, like he was scared, but his face was a mask of anger. He raised his staff again. “How many times do I need to say that before you dumb-dumbs get it through your thick skulls!? ”

Mikey dove from the shadows, knocking Leo out of the way before the other turtle could hit him again. They both fell hard to the concrete. The pink vines reappeared over the stacks of shipping containers, casting sharp, threatening shadows on the group.

“I grow tired of this,” Draxum snarled, striding over the stacks. The gargoyles fluttered alongside him.

“Yeah, that makes two of us!” Leo shouted, pushing Mikey off of him. He stood, dragging Mikey to his feet, and ran towards Raph and April. “Sidebar!” he hissed, shoving them into the maze of palettes and cargo.

“Leo,” Raph growled as they ran. “You are in so-!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m dead, listen!” Leo ducked into a hidden corner, crouching with the shelter to his back. He glanced over his shoulder, but it seemed the attackers had lost them in the maze. “I talked to him,” he hissed, “and he chose a name.”

Mikey gasped, eyes shining. “From the book?” he whispered hopefully.

Leo nodded with a smile. “He’s Donatello,” he announced. “And I think he wants to leave, but he’s scared to. We’re so close, we just need to be careful here!”

Raph growled, running a hand down his face. “Okay,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. “Okay. Cool. Fine. You snuck out. We’ll deal with that later.” He took a deep breath, struggling to push his anger down. Right now, Othe- no, Donatello, needed their help. He was what mattered at the moment. “So how do we convince him?”

 Leo hesitated. 

“There you are.”

Everyone whirled around to see Donatello looming at the entrance to their hidey-hole, blocking the way out. His glare wavered as he looked at each of them, and he glanced over his shoulder.

Raph stood slowly. “Look, buddy,” he ventured tentatively, “we really, really don’t want to fight you.”

Donatello met his gaze for a brief second. He looked almost guilty, though for what, Raph couldn’t guess. Donatello dropped his gaze and backed away. 

“Look,” he mumbled. “If you go now - if you run, before Master Draxum comes back -”

“Then what?” April snapped, standing up. “You weren’t allowed to eat the other day because you didn’t catch us. What’ll he do this time?” She stepped forward. 

He stepped back, twirling his staff to a defensive grip as panic flickered in his eyes. 

She stopped, her gaze softening. “We don’t want to keep leaving you behind to get hurt,” she said quietly.

Donatello shook his head. “You have to go,” he insisted, grip tightening on his bo. He glanced over his shoulder at a disturbance somewhere in the shipyard. “You don’t have much time.”

Leo stepped forward, reaching for their brother. “Donnie. . .”

“Stay back!” Donnie yelped, cringing away from the threatened touch. He was shaking now, eyes wild. “I don’t have a choice, but you do! Just go!”

Raph stepped between the two of them. “You do have a choice,” he said firmly.

Donatello shook his head. “I - I can’t,” he hissed. “If he sees you, he’ll - I don’t want to be hurt again.”

Raph felt his chest tighten and had to stop his hands from instinctively curling into fists. He had to stop himself from running to find Draxum and tear him apart himself. He felt he could’ve pummeled the Yokai until nothing was left but that stupid helmet and those stupid horns. But that wouldn’t help right now. Raph forced himself to remain calm, to meet Donatello’s eye with a steady gaze. 

“You can come with us,” he offered, yet again.

“I’m nothing without him!” Donatello swung his staff. Raph blocked with his tonfas. He barely even registered the blow, it was so light. 

“You’re not nothing,” Raph pressed gently. “You’re Donatello, right? That’s something.”

The turtle shook his head sharply and stepped back. “Stop it,” he whispered. Tears pooled in his eyes.

Mikey stepped forward. “You have autonomy here,” he insisted. “You get the final say over your own life.”

Donatello turned and swung at him. Mikey ducked. Donatello lost his balance and fell to his knees, gripping the staff to his chest. He tried to push himself back up, but his knees gave out and he fell again with a hiss of pain. Leo stepped forward, looking worried.

“I - I can’t,” Donnie whispered, eyes squeezed shut. His breath was quickening. He curled in on himself, trembling, and Raph noticed for the first time the dramatic gash in his armored shell. It had been awkwardly wrenched halfway back into its proper form, but it was far from fixed. Donatello still hadn’t stood. He was shaking, tears welling in his eyes. 

Raph knew the signs of a panic attack. Donatello was tearing himself apart from the inside. He was in bad shape. This might be their last chance.

April stepped forward. “You can,” she said softly. “Donnie, you have a choice here. You can control your own actions.”

Donnie looked up, tawny eyes shimmering with desperation. His chin trembled. “You don’t understand.”

She knelt in front of him. “I understand that you’re a good person,” she said softly. 

He stared blankly.

She continued. “I understand that you don’t want to hurt us, and that nobody - look at me,” she gently took his hand and squeezed it in her own. “ Nobody should be forced to do things they don’t want to. For any reason.”

Leo knelt next to her. “Donnie,” he said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t pull away. “You chose a name. That alone shows you have autonomy, right? You made your own choice there.”

Donnie shook his head helplessly. 

Mikey sat and took his free hand gently. Donnie dropped his staff as he did. “We can help you,” he said softly. “You’ll be safe with us.”

Raph finally joined them and rested his hand on Donnie’s other shoulder. The turtle turned to him with teary eyes, fear and anger and helplessness shining. He looked so, so lost. So, so scared. The look broke Raph’s heart. He felt so guilty for leaving him for so long. Even if he hadn’t known he’d existed, he couldn’t help but blame himself. He was supposed to protect his brothers, no matter what, and here was one of them in tears, bruised, bloody, scared of his own family. Raph couldn’t help but feel like he’d failed him, somehow.

“You’re our brother,” Raph said firmly. “You’re Donatello. You are someone, and you can make that choice. I know it’s scary to make that jump, but we’ll be there to catch you.” He gently tightened his grip, just enough so the teen knew he was being serious. “You deserve to be okay.”

Donatello stared at him for a moment. He dropped his gaze.

“Okay,” he murmured. “I need help. I -” He broke off and shuddered slightly, then steeled himself, gripping Mikey and April’s hands tightly. “I’ll come with you.”

Raph felt relief wash through his chest like cold water. Leo grinned. Mikey looked close to tears, but he was smiling. April smiled warmly at him.

“Okay,” Leo hissed, scrambling to his feet. Everyone else followed suit. Raph had to support Donnie, as he wobbled a bit, but the younger turtle pulled away as soon as he was on his feet.

Leo held his sword out in front of him and took a deep breath. “Haaaaachi. . .” He twirled the weapon above his head. “Machi!” He slashed the weapon in front of him. Nothing happened. He tried again, and again. Still nothing. He scowled. “Shit.”

“Language!” Raph snapped. Mikey giggled, and Donnie chuckled hesitantly. 

April waved at them. “I saw a manhole cover this way,” she hissed, glancing at the tops of the shipping containers for the shadow of Baron Draxum. “We’ve gotta hurry!”

The turtles nodded and fell into step behind her as she led the way through the maze. Donnie was still shaky and limping, eyes flickering about with fear, but he was walking, willingly, freely, alongside them. Once they got out of this, Raph would be the happiest turtle alive. 

“How disappointing.”

Everyone whirled around, readying their weapons, but it was too late.

Giant pink vines lashed towards the ground. Raph barely managed to duck away from an attack, but one clipped him and knocked him off balance. The group was scattered as everyone ducked for cover and stumbled to regain their balance. The attacks didn’t slow, the vines swinging and shooting relentlessly, driving them apart even further.

Everyone except Donnie, who was dragged backwards. He grunted as the vine wrapped around his torso, lashing his arms to his sides, and lifted him into the air so his feet were dangling off the ground, no matter how much he kicked. Draxum approached the trapped teenager slowly. Donnie’s face went deathly pale with fear.

“Donnie!” Mikey shrieked, diving forward. He, too, was snagged. The vine flicked him away, sending him flying into the great walls of metal surrounding them. 

Raph felt his blood boiling with rage. Mikey rolled to his knees and attempted to stand, but he was shaking. April ducked through her own obstacles to his side and reached to help him up.

Raph wanted to rush to his side, but Draxum was now nose-to-nose with Donnie, too far away for Raph to reach, and speaking.

“After everything,” the Yokai snarled as Donnie tried to shrink away. “I created you, I cared for you, I raised and trained you, and this. ” He gestured scornfully to the turtles and April. “This is what you choose?”

Donnie shook his head. “I -” He gasped for air as the vines squeezed more tightly. “I can explain!”

Draxum growled. More vines sprouted from the ground just below Donnie, wrapping tightly around his legs and snaking up to cocoon him completely. 

Donnie shrieked, bucking and kicking uselessly against the restraints. Raph punched away an attacking vine and began sprinting for the two of them.

“Wait, wait!” Donnie yelped, twisting against the vines. “I can - I know I - please, I’ll do better! I swear, I swear!” There were tears running down his face as the vines reached his neck. Raph ducked under another attack, but it caught his shoulder. Raph ignored the blow and kept running. 

Donnie was still talking, gasping through his tears. “Please, please, I’ll do better, please don’t -” Too late. The restraints wrapped around his mouth, silencing him to helpless, muffled grunts.

“Disappointing,” Draxum repeated. He clenched his fist. Donnie’s eyes widened as the vines tightened, squeezing him ruthlessly. He gave a muffled cry of pain, but Draxum continued unabashed. “I suppose there’s still some improvements to be made.”

Donnie’s eyes began to roll back in his head as the vines continued constricting, tighter and tighter, cutting off his air.

Finally, Raph lunged. The feeling of his fist connected with Draxum’s head was, he decided, the most satisfying feeling in the world.

At the same moment that he knocked the Yokai away, Leo rushed in from the other direction. With an angered shout, he swung his sword at the base of the vines that held their brother. They collapsed, and Donnie fell to the ground, head hitting the concrete a bit too hard. The vines went slack and coiled back on themselves.

Raph felt his heart go cold.

Donnie wasn’t moving.

He didn’t have time to consider it further as Darxum attacked, drawing all his attention to defending himself.

Leo glanced at Donnie anxiously, hesitating. He was clearly torn between taking up his role as the medic helping him, or defending against the infuriated Yokai. Luckily, like an answer to the silent question, April rushed to the two of them, bat held at the ready.

“Leo, help him!” she shouted, taking a defensive position between them and the Baron. “I’ve got you covered!” She knocked away an attacking vine with a battle cry as Leo rushed to Donnie’s side.

Raph landed another punch on Draxum’s face. The Yokai roared with anger and threw a handful of seeds to the ground. They rose as a dark mass against the stark streetlights behind him, lifting him to the sky.

“You fools think you can defeat me?” he snarled, readying another handful of seeds. “You untrained, uncouth, completely useless brats!” He threw the seeds to the ground, waving his hand as they sprouted. “I will crush you like -”

Before he could finish his speech, however, something came flying from behind Raph, something huge and heavy. Draxum fell, howling with anger, thrown across the shipyard by the attack. His vines fell slack as he was knocked away.

Raph stared in shock for a moment. He turned slowly. Mikey stood behind him, kusari fundo still swinging in his hand, staring dumbfounded after his attack.

Leo, from where he crouched by Donnie, sputtered in shock. “Did you just throw a shipping container?” he shrieked. 

Mikey shrugged. “I guess?”

Raph shook himself out of his stupor and ran to rejoin the others. Leo turned his attention back to Donnie, fussing over him as April cradled his head. Donnie was still unconscious, twitching, his face twisted with pain. April stroked his brow, her own scrunched with worry. Mikey hovered behind them anxiously.

“How is he?” Raph muttered.

“We need to get him home muy rapido, ” Leo said sharply as he stood. “Can you carry him?”

Raph nodded. He gingerly picked up the unconscious form. He felt light, way too light, and so breakable. And very warm. No doubt some sort of fever. He’d have to be gentle. As he wrapped his arms around his new little brother, Raph made a silent oath.

Nothing would hurt him. Ever again. 

“Here,” April murmured, waving them down a narrow alley between a couple low buildings. “This way.” They followed her off the pier and down an alley and, to everyone’s relief, found the sewer entrance. Unfortunately, it was partially obscured by a dumpster.

Distantly, Baron Draxum’s infuriated roar echoed. “Find them!” he howled.

Raph growled in frustration and gently handed Donnie off to Leo, who knelt and continued checking his wounds. “Mikey,” Raph hissed, “help me out here!”

The two of them strained against the massive dumpster as April heaved at the manhole cover. Just when it was starting to budge, however, she froze. Her eyes were fixed on the end of the alley, wide, her whole body tense.

The others followed her gaze.

At the end fluttered the two gargoyles.

Raph stared at them. His gaze hardened, hands drifting warningly to his tonfas. Leo glared and held his brother more tightly, hunched protectively over Donnie’s form.

Huggin looked from them, over his shoulder to Draxum, to his companion. Draxum said something else, and the gargoyles looked at each other and nodded. They fluttered forward.

Mikey grabbed his kusari fundo, snarling. “We’re taking him,” he snapped. “You can’t stop -”

“Yeah, shut up,” Huggin hissed, sitting on a trash can and glancing anxiously over his shoulder. “He’s allergic to shellfish, and he can’t have sweets on an empty stomach or he’ll get sick.”

“Not just candy,” Muninn added. “Soda, sticky rice, sweet juice - anything sweet, if he hasn’t eaten before, he’ll get nauseous.”

“He hates the feeling of velvet and the texture of tomato soup and yogurt, and he needs total silence to sleep.”

“But he needs music to focus on stuff when he’s awake, but loud noises stress him out.”

“Yes. And,” Huggin leaned forward, raising his wings in what he must have thought was a threatening way. “You may think we’re scary now, but I swear -”

“You hurt him,” Muninn continued, drawing his shoulders back, “and we will become the gargoyles of your nightmares.”

“Capiche?”

Raph blinked in surprise. This had to be a trick of some kind, right? These guys worked for Draxum. They must have aided in this abuse, if nothing else just watching silently. There was no way they’d just help him now, right?

But, Raph couldn’t help but notice the way they eyed Donatello anxiously, the hint of guilt in their gazes. They were really worried. Maybe this was them trying to make up for their complacency. What else could they do but trust them?

Raph nodded firmly. “He’ll  be safe with us,” he vowed. Leo, Mikey, and April all nodded in grim agreement.

The gargoyles returned the gesture and fluttered back to the entrance of the alleyway. Munnin paused and glanced back at Donatello’s unconscious form, a worried look in his round red eyes, before following Huggin out. “We’re looking, boss!” he called, voice faint by the distance. 

Raph quickly shifted the dumpster and they all dropped to the sewer. Mikey carefully replaced the manhole cover above him before he dropped to the ground. Raph held Donnie as they trekked back to the lair in relative silence. Raph focused as much as he could on the sound of Donnie’s raspy breathing.

He was okay. He was going to be okay.

It was dead silent when they entered. Splinter was no doubt asleep. It was, after all, barely three in the morning. 

“Medbay,” Leo said sharply, leading the others to the room. Everyone knew where it was, of course, but Raph didn’t point this out. Leo was the medic, and he needed to know he was in charge at the moment.

“Set him here,” the slider instructed, shifting a pile of bandages and braces from the only bed in the bay. He hesitated, then glanced up at everyone. “I, uh, might need help,” he added.

April nodded firmly. “Just say the word,” she assured him.

Mikey forced a smile and gave a shaky salute. “Nurse Michelangelo, reporting for duty!” he said brightly. 

Leo smiled and ruffled the top of his head. “Alright, nurse, I need you to find the aloe and antibiotics in the medicine cabinet.”

Raph tuned out the rest of his directions to the other two as he carefully settled Donnie on the cot. The smaller turtle was still out cold, although he was twitching a bit. His face twisted in pain and fear, then relaxed, and then he flinched again. Raph held his hand in the hopes of giving him some relief from whatever nightmares he was facing. As he did, he finally noticed the bandages coating his arms, stained with freshly bleeding wounds. There were new bruises poking out from the tops of the bandages and the bottom of his mask, including an especially dark one on his bicep that looked suspiciously like a handprint, as though someone had held it in a vice grip. He looked exhausted.

Raph felt a new wave of anger at Draxum, but forced it down as Leo approached.

“What should I do, doc?” he asked, forcing his voice to be level.

Leo removed Donnie’s maroon mask, revealing a black eye and a cut on his temple. The black eye looked old, but the cut had clearly reopened when he hit his head. A dark bruise was blooming around it, partially obscured by congealed blood. Leo winced at the new wounds, but set the mask aside. “Can you keep him sitting up?” he instructed.

Raph nodded and carefully shifted Donnie, adjusting him so he was leaning back with his head resting on Raph’s shoulder, with the snapper supporting most of his weight. He felt uncomfortably warm, a thin sheen of sweat shone on his face.

Mikey deposited his findings onto the table at Leo’s elbow, and Leo selected a bottle from the pile and began cleaning the cut on Donnie’s head.

April peered around him from where she was setting up bandages. “Is it bad?” she whispered anxiously.

Leo shook his head. “No,” he said slowly. “It’s pretty shallow, I think he’s unconscious just from being so. . . tired. . .” He paused as his hand brushed Donnie’s temple. He set aside the cloth he held and pressed his knuckles against Donnie’s forehead. His brow creased with worry. “He should be awake soon, but. . .”

“He’s feeling kinda feverish,” Raph finished, frowning at Donnie. He was practically radiating heat, and he looked pale and clammy.

“He might have an infection somewhere,” Leo muttered. He gently pressed a plaster against the wound on Donnie’s head. “April, help me with his arms.”

After the two of them unwrapped, cleaned, and rewrapped the nasty wounds on his arms and wrists (Raph almost didn’t want to know where they came from), Leo took a deep breath. 

“I need to take off his armor,” he murmured. “Lay him back for a second.”

Raph did as he instructed, careful to support his head. Leo undid the belts and sashes holding the shell in place. They revealed more scars on his plastron that made everyone grimace, but as they were long-healed, there was no point in making a fuss about them. It took some readjusting, but Raph was able to shift so that Donnie was leaning forward against him, still sitting up, but giving Leo access to his shell.

Raph settled Donnie against his shoulder. Leo nodded to Mikey. “Can you help me out with this?”

Mikey nodded and stepped forward, on the opposite side of the bed from Leo. Both of them took one side of the armor and slowly lifted it away. It took some work to pull it away.

Raph had to fight a gag. April didn’t succeed as well as him.

Under the armor was a bloody, sticky mess. Where it rested on his shoulders, the skin had been completely worn away. His shell was a mess of blisters, pus, and blood, sticking to the armor as it was pulled away. Mikey looked like he might be sick. 

April groaned and pressed a hand over her mouth. “How long has he had this on?” she whispered. 

Donnie twitched and groaned, his face scrunching up with fear.

“Hey,” Raph murmured, resting a hand on his head. “It’s okay, Donnie, I gotcha.” He gently stroked the younger turtle’s head in slow, soothing motions. “You’re okay. I’ve gotcha.”

Donnie relaxed a little, but not completely.

Leo grimaced. “At least we know where the infection is now.” He looked queasy. 

“And you were right about him being a softshell,” Mikey whispered. Leo passed him the full weight of the armor, and Mikey stepped back. He looked like he wanted to chuck the armor across the room or toss it in the nearest dumpster, but after a moment’s hesitation, he carefully settled it in a corner. He stepped out for a moment, and when he returned he held a roll of paper towels and a bottle of disinfectant. He sat and began carefully cleaning the dried blood from the armor. 

Leo doused a soft cloth in antiseptic. He moved slowly and gingerly, clearly afraid of injuring his brother further. The moment he touched Donnie’s mess of a shell, however, the softshell began muttering and twitching again.

“Hey,” Raph said again, attempting to settle him as he had before. “It’s okay, Dee. You’re safe.”

Donnie whimpered and squirmed away from the touch on his sensitive shell. It seemed Raph’s comfort didn’t work as well now that there were people actually touching the afflicted area. 

“We need to clean him up,” Leo said firmly. Raph had rarely seen Leo look so stressed as he turned to him. He was desperately trying to feign confidence, but he was horrified. “Raph,” he said sharply, “I need you to hold him still.”

Raph felt his chest tighten, but he nodded. He readjusted so that he could hold Donnie’s arms still. He held one of his hands in his, hoping to still provide some semblance of comfort in this nightmare that he was no doubt experiencing.

Leo continued working. Donnie’s whimpers progressed to violent shudders. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, but despite his best efforts, he couldn’t pull away. Raph felt sick, holding him like this while he tried so hard to escape, even in his sleep. But he needed treatment. He couldn’t continue on with his shell like this.

After a few minutes, Donnie’s eyes fluttered open. “Wha. . .?” He blinked, eyes bleary and confused.

“Hey,” Raph said quietly. “You’re okay, big guy, remember?”

Donnie blinked at him, eyes wide with fear. “Wh-what’s going. . .?” A single tear traced down his face as Leo pressed the cloth against his shell again. Donnie flinched, trying to pull away. “N-no, I’on. . . I’on wanna. . .”

“Sorry,” Leo whispered fretfully.

“We gotta take care of your shell, buddy,” Raph reminded him. He attempted an encouraging smile. “You’re gonna be okay, alright?”

Donnie whimpered and tried to pull away, but Raph held firm. “P-please, I just. . .” His eyes fluttered as he went limp again. “I just wanna. . . please. . .”

Leo looked like he might cry, but he continued his work.

Eventually, Leo finished and began wrapping Donnie’s shell and shoulders in thick layers of bandages. April left as he worked and reappeared in the doorway holding several pillows and a soft, fleecy blanket.

Leo gave her a grateful look as she set up the pillows on the bed and then spread the blanket over them, providing a soft surface for the damaged shell to rest on. At his word, Raph gently laid Donnie back and settled him among the cushions. Leo covered him with the extra blankets April had picked up, fussing as he tucked them around his shoulders and checked his temperature for the umpteenth time.

When Leo was finally satisfied, Raph stood from the bed and stepped back. Donnie looked so small and pale in that cot, bundled in every spare blanket in the lair. He still looked ill, but he didn’t seem quite as distressed. Raph chose to take that as a good sign.

He rested his hands on his hips and glanced at Leo, who had just finished scrubbing his hands vigorously in the sink. “Now what?”

Leo shrugged and collapsed into a chair beside the cot. “We wait,” he said tiredly, voice heavy.

Mikey and April glanced at each other. April tilted her head toward the door, and the two of them marched from the room. Raph glanced from the doorway they disappeared through, to Donnie on the cot, to Leo hunched over in the chair.

He sighed. Part of him still wanted to yell and scold. Leo had snuck out. He’d broken a rule and put everyone in danger, including Donnie. Yet Leo looked so tired, so guilty hunched over in that chair, hands still stained with blood, knee bouncing, shoulders shaking slightly.

Raph knew there was nothing he could say that Leo wasn’t already telling himself. 

He dragged another chair over from the corner and sat, leaning his shoulder against Leo’s. “You alright, buddy?” he asked gently. 

Leo shook his head slowly. “It was stupid,” he muttered. “He wouldn’t have gotten hurt if I hadn’t gone.”

Raph wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Leo leaned into him gratefully. “We don’t know that,” Raph muttered. “I don’t think Draxum needed much of an excuse to hurt him.”

Leo shook his head again. “He was just. . .” He shuddered. “Raph, he was so scared. He couldn’t name his favorite food, and he didn’t - he didn’t even think he was a person.” He stood and began pacing, hands fluttering anxiously. “He was so convinced that he only existed around Draxum, and now -” He paused and glanced back at Donnie, still lying still and quiet under the pile of blankets. Leo bit his lip. “He’s going to be okay,” he said firmly.

Raph nodded and stood. “He is.”

“Because he can’t be right,” Leo continued, muttering more to himself than to Raph. “Because he can’t be right about needing Draxum to survive.”

Raph walked up and wrapped Leo in a hug, as tight as he could bear. Leo winced at the touch, hissing in a sharp breath through his teeth. Raph pulled away quickly. “What’s wrong?” he checked anxiously.

“Nothing,” Leo muttered, rolling his shoulder. “Just landed weird when ol’ Draxy threw me. I’m fine.”

Raph frowned suspiciously.

Leo rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, ” he insisted. He crossed his arms. “What about you, huh?” he challenged. “You got hit too.”

Raph shrugged. “It’s -”

“Nothing. Sure.” Leo pushed him back towards the chair. It wasn’t hard enough to actually prompt Raph to move, but he did anyways. He was too tired to argue.

Leo disappeared behind him and reappeared a moment later with a first aid kit, cold compress already in hand. Raph let him fuss over the black eye he felt forming as he watched Donnie rest. As he was treating him, Mikey and April reappeared in the doorway, doubled over as they struggled to drag a pile of beanbags and pillows into the medbay.

Mikey forced a smile as Raph met his eye in surprise. “We figured we should camp out in here,” he explained, depositing his load on the floor along with an armful of art supplies and fidget toys. April followed suit, dropping a few teddy bears on top of the pile. 

She frowned at Leo, who was still cleaning a cut on Raph’s arm. “Is everything okay?” she checked. “You guys weren’t hurt too bad, were you?”

“Just the standard post-fight check-up,” Leo assured her, with all the confidence as though this was a common occurrence. He pointed at Mikey. “You’re next, Mr. Heavyweight Champion.” He moved his point to April. “Then you. Were you hurt?”

“Only my pride,” she sighed, collapsing into one of the beanbags.

Leo clicked his tongue sympathetically. “The worst wound of all.”

April snorted. “I’m just not a fan of rolling around to get away from crazy moving vines.” 

Leo finished patching Raph’s minimal injuries and moved on to Mikey. Raph had been worrying about him since he’d been thrown against that container, but he miraculously seemed okay.

“My shell took most of it,” Mikey shrugged, settling back into his beanbag after Leo declared him okay. “I was just rattled.”

“Alright, O’Neil,” Leo said sharply, turning to his older sister. “Status report?”

April gave a tired salute. “All systems functional,” she assured him. “Only damage is a scraped elbow.”

Leo gasped dramatically. “A scraped elbow?” he echoed in exaggerated horror. He grabbed the afflicted arm and gasped dramatically at the injury. “A scraped elbow?” he cried. April smiled and rolled her eyes as Mikey giggled. Raph smiled as Leo continued. “Oh, O’Neil, this is calamitous! Thank your lucky stars you’ve got such a skilled and handsome medic here to help!”

“A very humble medic,” she retorted.

He grinned and pointed at her. “I forgot humble, that too.” He picked up the first aid kit and settled by her side. “Alright, people, I need some room to work here!”

April rolled her eyes again, but peeled off her jacket to give him better access to the wound. He hummed thoughtfully and held out a hand toward Mikey.

“Nurse, aloe.”

Mikey leaned over to the table and passed the bottle to his waiting hand. Leo applied the gel and bandaid in silence after, muttering to himself about ‘steady vitals’ and other medical jargon that very clearly did not apply. Raph chuckled a little. He was grateful for the relief that Leo was trying to provide. While nobody ever fully looked away from Donnie’s still form, it provided some much-needed levity. 

By the time Leo stood, Mikey and April were already passed out. After cleaning up the remains of the medical supplies laying out, Leo returned to the sink. When he returned to Donnie’s bedside, he carried a bowl of cold water and a washcloth. 

Raph frowned at him. “You should get some rest,” he said gently. “You’ve been up for a while.”

Leo snorted as he wrung out the cloth into the bowl. “Yeah, but it’s my fault I was.” He gently set the cloth on Donnie’s feverish forehead. An edge of tension bled from Donnie’s face, proving that the cloth provided at least some relief from his fever. Leo sighed and settled into his seat. “I’ve gotta take care of him.”

Raph rested a heavy hand on his shoulder. “I’ll stay up with him,” he assured him. “Get some sleep, Leo.”

Leo shook his head.

Raph raised an eyebrow. He almost always won this fight. Leo should know better by now. He shifted his chair a bit closer to Leo’s. Settling again, he leaned over so that his shoulder was pressed against his little brother's.

He felt him shift a little, leaning more of his weight on him. As time passed, more and more of that weight was transferred to Raph’s shoulder. In ten minutes, Leo was fast asleep.

Raph smiled ruefully and picked up the cloth from the bowl, gently pressing it against Donnie’s face. He could still feel the heat radiating from his skin, but the softshell relaxed a little more at the touch.

He’d be okay.

Everyone would be okay.

Chapter Text

Turtle was hot. He was cold. Everything hurt and he was scared to move, surrounded by an unfamiliar weight and strange noises. His breath rattled in his chest and his back and shell burned with pain.

What had happened? He couldn’t remember. His mind was murky, like the liquid in the test tubes in Master Draxum’s lab.

Master Draxum.

I suppose there’s still some improvements to be made.

Turtle felt his heart go cold. He tried to move his arms. They were heavy, leaden. He couldn’t.

Turtle’s heart pounded. His breath quickened, and the motion made his ribs ache. He tried again to move. The syrup in his head made it hard.

No. No. No, no, no, no no no no no no.

Suddenly he was seven sitting on a table in the lab.

I just need some samples.

When he’d started crying at the continuous intrusion of the needles, thick vines had sprouted to hold him still.

He was eight, watching from a doorway as Draxum injected something into one of his mutant experiments.

What’s he doing? he’d whispered to the gargoyle fluttering next to him. He couldn’t remember which one.

Says he’s ‘improving it’. 

It sounds scared.

It probably is. 

The creature had torn itself apart a week later, after screeching in rage and clawing at the walls of its cage until blood was smeared on the walls.

I suppose there’s still some improvements to be made.

Turtle tried to speak, tried to move, tried to beg for forgiveness and plead that he didn’t need to do this. He didn’t need improvements. He’d seen what happened to the experiments that got ‘improvements’. 

All that came out was a weak whine.

The noises around him stopped, and he realized that they had been voices. Strange voices. Huggin and Muninn? No, Turtle knew what they sounded like. This was somebody else. Strangers. Why were strangers in the lab? Master Draxum never let anyone in the lab.

He was ten, after accidentally knocking over an assortment of test tubes, Master Draxum looming over him with a fury so intense that Turtle could feel it radiating off him. Draxum turned away with a mutter.

I should’ve sold you to the Nexus when I had the chance.

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Not after everything. Would he?

Turtle twitched and attempted again to speak, to sit up, to at least see what Draxum had in store for him. He couldn’t. All he could do was breathe, and even that took all his effort. 

Something cool and damp pressed against his face. It felt good, and provided a little relief from the nauseating murkiness and the pounding in his head, like a flashlight in a dark room providing clarity.

Turtle pried his eyes open. They felt sticky and swollen. He could hardly see anything but a confusing blur of blue, green, and red in front of him. A few more green blobs hovered behind.

The blue one tilted its head. “Donnie?”

Oh. That’s right. He was Donnie now, wasn’t he? Donatello. It sounded much nicer than ‘Turtle’. Where had that come from? He couldn’t recall.

He needed to tell Master Draxum he’d decided on a name. He’d be so pleased.

Donatello.

Donnie closed his eyes, and everything went dark again.

There was something in the lab. Donnie didn’t remember waking, he just knew that he was sitting up and reaching for his staff, which was gone , and trying to run, but he couldn’t, he was all tangled in something, but there was something loud and dangerous and it was going to hurt him. He was shouting, hyperventilating, reaching for the open air, straining to escape. A thick vine wrapped around his shoulders and pinned him back to the bed.

Panic lurched in Donnie’s throat as he struggled uselessly. His injured knee screamed in pain, his shell was practically on fire, his head was pounding, his skin felt raw and feverish, but he was in danger.

The vine. The vine holding him down.

Master Draxum was going to do it. The ‘improvements’ he was always muttering about, always inflicting on the less intelligent experiments. Donnie would be subjected to more experimentation, more tinkering, and end up lost and mad like all the others.

He couldn’t breathe. There were tears on his face, useless pleas that he couldn’t hear, something holding his arm and someone talking and he couldn’t move.

Something was clamped into his mouth.

Instinctively, Donnie bit down as hard as he could with his sharp teeth.

It was sour, pulpy, rubbery, tart juice and bitter acid spreading through his mouth at the bite. The shock of sensation seemed to redirect his mind. Donnie sputtered and coughed, rolling over to spit out the intrusion. His mind was slowing, trying to figure out what had just happened, when someone spoke. 

“Take a deep breath,” someone said to his right.

Oh, he could understand the voices now. That was a relief. Deep breath. Okay, that was easy. He managed to ease his breathing enough to take a slow, shaky gasp. He held it for a few seconds, then released it slowly.

“There you go!” The vine around his shoulders released him.

It was not a vine. It was an arm. A strong, broad arm connected to strong, broad shoulders and a spikey shell and -

Oh.

Right.

Donnie blinked at Raph in a stupor. He turned slowly and squinted at the rest of the group. His shoulders were still shaking from the nightmare, but he managed to steady himself enough to sit up on his elbows.

The little orange one, Mikey, was holding his hand, rubbing it slowly. Donnie instinctively matched the rhythm of his breathing to that. At least that was something he could keep track of.

Leo was stood next to Raph, watching Donnie with wide, anxious eyes. April stood next to him, looking relieved. 

She held half a lemon in her hand.

Donnie squinted at her, then glanced at whatever he’d bitten and spit out onto the floor. He looked back up at her. 

“Did you just forcefeed me a lemon?” he demanded in dismay.

April grinned in relief. “I heard it’s supposed to stop panic attacks,” she said proudly. “And it worked!”

Well, there was no denying that. Donnie sat up slowly, then stopped with a groan as his head spun.

A hand landed on his shoulder. “Just take it easy,” Leo said gently. “You got pretty banged up.”

Donnie shrugged him off and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, despite how much one hurt. “What happened?” he mumbled thickly, 

“What do you remember?” Mikey ventured.

Donnie frowned at the folds of the blankets in front of him. “We were. . . fighting,” he muttered. “I was telling you to leave, but I. . .” He raised his eyebrows and sat up. “I left with you.” His blood went cold as he remembered Master Draxum’s snarl, the vines cocooning around his body and constricting so tightly he felt his joints popping and thought his bones would break. He shuddered. “M - Draxum, he. . .” The world had gone dark and cold and he couldn’t move or breathe. His battle shell had cracked and warped, digging into his back. It felt as though the entire Earth had collapsed on him, leaving him trapped and suffocated and crushed and - 

“Bite down.”

Donnie recoiled and smacked the lemon away. “Absolutely not ,” he snapped, perhaps more harshly than necessary.

April just rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she muttered, setting the lemon wedge on the table by his cot. “If you need it, it’s there.”

Donnie rubbed the back of his neck. “I left with you,” he mumbled. “Then Draxum caught me. That’s what I remember.”

“You passed out after Draxum got a hold of you,” Raph explained. “We just took you with us.”

Donnie shook his head. This was wrong. This was all wrong. He barely knew these people. He couldn’t trust them. This was all just a trap, a way to get more info on Master Draxum’s great plan. They were only using him. Of course they were. That’s all anyone did. Everyone had an ulterior motive. Everyone wanted something and were willing to do anything to achieve it.

They didn’t agree with Master Draxum. They’d never made any pretenses about that. This was all just to distract him, to try and disrupt the great plan, or to get information from him. This would undoubtedly turn into some good-cop-bad-cop game in no time. Donnie had to get back. He had to sneak out and get home and -

And what?

His heart went cold.

Master Draxum had tried to kill him. He’d tried to kill him. He’d nearly done it! Donnie had only been saved by these other turtles.

“Donnie?” Raph’s voice was gentle. “You alright, buddy?”

Donnie shook his head. The room seemed too bright. “I can’t go back,” he whispered. He shuddered violently. “He - he tried to kill me! I can’t - it’s all gone!” He curled forward on himself, clamping his hands against his head. “Everything. My purpose, my role in the plan, my whole life - that’s what I was made for, and now it’s all gone!” He shuddered again. “He -” His voice cracked. “He tried to. . .”

His Master. The closest thing he’d ever had to a father. The one who raised him and taught him how to fight and read and about his place in the great master plan. That Yokai, Baron Draxum, had tried to kill him. 

But then, would Draxum have hurt him, if he hadn’t first tried to leave? Donnie had betrayed him. Of course he was punished. 

This was all his fault. Donnie - Turtle - whatever he was - had failed.

Something shifted on the mattress next to him. Donnie looked up to see that Mikey had shifted from his chair to sit on the cot with him. Donnie’s brow furrowed. Before he could ask what he was doing, Mikey leaned forward and wrapped him in a hug.

Donnie stiffened.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had hugged him. He couldn’t remember if anyone ever had. Mikey was careful to avoid injured areas. For that, Donnie was grateful. He almost leaned into the hug, almost reciprocated, when another thought shot across his mind like an electrical shock.

He jolted upright, grasping over his shoulder. His eyes widened in horror. “My shell,” he gasped. “Where’s my shell?”

“Your shell is still attached to your back,” Leo replied brightly. “Right where you left it. We did have to take your armor, though.”

Donnie shuddered and pulled away from the hug. The thought of anyone touching him without his shell was nauseating. Of course they had disarmed him. It was common sense. It would also explain the distinct lack of bo staff anywhere in the room. He didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed the second he awoke. “Where is it?” he repeated sharply.

Mikey pointed to a corner of the room. “I cleaned it off as best I could,” he added as Donnie spotted the brass and maroon shield. “But it was pretty nasty.”

‘Nasty’ was one way of putting it. It was almost crumpled into a ball of scrap. Draxum had crushed it like a soda can. It looked borderline irreparable, all jagged cracks and sharp edges. Still, it was a shell, and Donnie couldn’t not have a shell. That was out of the question, especially surrounded by people he didn’t know.

“Yeah,” Leo added sympathetically. “You’ve got a pretty bad infection on your shell. How long have you had that on?”

Donnie shook his head and pushed aside his blankets, eyes still fixed on the armor. “I need to -” He broke off as he tried to push himself up to stand. Searing pain tore through his muscles, the shredded skin on his arms, the bruises on his ribs. He collapsed back again with a strangled gasp of pain. His head was ringing and his vision went white.

“. . .nie? Donnie!”

He felt the cool cloth on his face again. Despite the relief it provided, he flinched away. “I need my shell,” he mumbled insistently, prying his eyes open to the bright lights again. He hated how desperate his voice sounded, bordering on pleading. “I need it!”

“What you need, ” Leo retorted sharply, pulling the cloth away with a frown, “is some real rest. You’ve got a mild concussion, twisted knee, injured arms, multiple bumps and bruises, probably a couple cracked ribs - not to mention the festering Petri dish that is currently your shell. Your body’s working triple-overtime to try and keep you in one piece, and you need to let it work.” His gaze softened, and he reached out to help Donnie sit up. “You can’t keep wearing that armor for so long without any breaks,” he added softly. “It’ll probably take a few weeks for your shell to heal. Until then, no armor. Doctor’s orders.”

Donnie frowned suspiciously at Leo’s outstretched hand, then his eyes. This was all wrong. But he was stuck. Like it or not, Donnie was too injured to move, much less to fight. He didn’t know these people. He didn’t know what made them tick, made them angry, how long they’d keep up this game until he did something to really piss them off.  Sure, he could just try to get the shell after they left, but there was no telling how mad that would make them. And then what? If he had to leave, he had nowhere else to go. Right now, all he could do was try to keep them happy.

At the very least, happy with him . 

He took Leo’s hand and leaned heavily on it as he readjusted against the blanket and pillows again. Raph helped as best he could without touching any injuries. When Donnie settled, he finally got a good look around the room. It was small, just enough room for his bed, a few chairs, and a couple cabinets and counters. The grey concrete walls were adorned with posters of turtle anatomy, labeled skeletons, and a couple cartoons that would probably be funny if Donnie could read the text from so far away. Beanbags were tucked in the corners and around his bed. They must have been staying with him, he deduced. To keep an eye on him, make sure he didn’t try anything when he awoke.

“What is all this racket?” huffed a gravely voice from the doorway. Everyone snapped around, Donnie included. “I’m trying to sleep! It’s -” The voice broke off.

In the doorway stood a small, stout rat mutant. He wore a dirty, tattered robe, and his fur was heavily matted. His yellowed eyes met with Donnie’s. Donnie instinctively shrank away from the gaze, although he watched warily.

The rat just stared for a moment. His face flashed through a million emotions - shock, anger, sadness, regret, anger again. Donnie didn’t know what was aimed at him. He couldn’t risk asking any questions. 

“Oh,” Leo said stiffly, turning away from the door to busy himself tidying up the side table. “You’re up.”

Mikey cleared his throat and finally stood from the bed. Although Donnie had initially resented the closeness, he found himself wishing he hadn’t left.

“Donnie,” Mikey began with a nervous smile. “This is our dad, Splinter. Dad, this is Donatello.”

“Our brother,” Leo added. A menacing tone lingered under his words. Donnie shivered and quailed back even further. He needed to make himself as small as possible. He wished he could melt into the blankets surrounding him, dissolve like sugar in water. All he wanted was to disappear. He glanced anxiously at Leo, but the slider just glared at Splinter, who was looking angrier by the second. Donnie half-wanted to warn him somehow, or maybe distract the rat so Leo might have a chance to slip away or back down before he got in too much trouble, but he stayed silent. He did not want to be on the receiving end of that anger.

Splinter blinked at Donnie. His brow lowered over his eyes. He turned back to the assembled group. “Boys,” he said quietly. “A word.”

Mikey winced slightly and followed him out. Raph gave Donnie a reassuring smile as he passed. 

“We’ll just be a sec,” he said brightly.

Leo pressed the cloth into April’s hand and muttered something to her. She nodded, and he smiled wanly at Donnie. “Get some sleep, huh? You need it.” Then, all three of them were gone, leaving him alone with April.

The human slumped into the chair that Leo had previously occupied. “You should rest,” she agreed. “But I get if you’re kinda freaked out right now. If you have any questions, I can answer.”

He did. Donnie had so many questions and so many fears. He couldn’t trust these people. He wasn’t safe. But he was so, so, so tired, and the blankets were so, so warm, and the air was so cold, and if he fell asleep, then nothing would hurt. At the moment, all he could do was go limp and let the world descend again into inky darkness.

Mikey wrung his hands together as he followed Splinter into the hallway. Raph patted his shell reassuringly, but he seemed distracted. Leo was fuming next to him.

This was not going to be a fun conversation.

Splinter finally stopped in the game room, far enough from the medbay that the others wouldn’t be able to hear them. He turned back to the boys, eyes closed, and took a deep breath.

“Is he going to be okay?” he asked quietly.

Leo nodded. “If he actually sits down and rests, then yes,” he muttered.

“Good.” Splinter took another deep breath, although he still didn’t open his eyes. “Tell me the truth,” he hissed. “How did you meet him?”

Raph tapped his hands together distractedly, curled into loose fists, one over the other and over again. “We found a hidden city under New York,” he explained. Mikey thought he was remarkably calm, considering everything. Anger rumbled below the surface of his voice, but he didn’t indulge it. Yet. “We found him with a Yokai called Baron Draxum.”

Their father flinched at the name and opened his eyes quickly. “I told you not to go after him,” he said sharply. “Do you know what danger you’ve put us in?”

“ He was in danger,” Leo informed him coldly, shoulders hiking up. “He’s been in danger his whole life.”

Splinter’s eyes narrowed. “I barely managed to get you three out alive,” he said in a low voice. “I didn’t even realize he was there.”

“And after you did?” Raph pressed, brow lowering over his eyes. “Why didn’t you do something when we told you about him?”

Splinter crossed his arms. Anger glittered in his eyes. “Baron Draxum is dangerous.”

“Exactly,” Leo snapped, leaning forward. “You seem to know that. Your response to that should have been ‘We need to get that kid out of there’, not ‘Hope he ends up okay!’”

“Don’t take that tone with me!” Splinter said sharply, pointing a claw at him.

“I’ll take whatever tone I want,” Leo retaliated icily. “Because I’m mad. I’m really mad, and I want you to know that I’m mad. ”

“You have no idea what that monster has done -”

“Okay. You and Draxum don’t get along. He hurt you. I get that. But whatever you had to deal with for however long, he ,” Leo pointed out to the atrium, “has been dealing with his whole life!” 

Splinter growled in frustration and shook his head. “That is no excuse for going behind my back like this! For disobeying me!”

“Well,” Leo said flatly. “We couldn’t leave him behind. Unlike you.”

Mikey froze. He felt Raph stiffen next to him. It felt like all the air had left the room.

Splinter grit his teeth. “Don’t you dare -”

“Oh, don’t what?” Leo snapped, throwing his hands in the air. “Don’t say you left him? Don’t act like we’re mad at you? Don’t worry about this guy, our brother, who’s been abused his whole life? Don’t what , Dad?”

“Don’t - don’t act like I had a choice in the matter!” Splinter blustered. “Don’t act like I left him willingly! I didn’t even realize he was there!”

“I don’t care about that!” Leo shouted, pressing his hands over his eyes. His voice wavered a little. “Dad, I do not give a shit about that! I care about you telling us not to go after him! I care about the fact that when we told you about him, you did nothing to try to help him!”

 “He could be leading Draxum here,” Splinter countered. “He may very well be lying to you to ambush us!”

“Donnie’s not lying,” Raph replied hotly. “He needed somewhere safe, and we helped him. Isn’t that what you’re always saying we should do?”

“How do you know you can trust him?” their father pressed, digging his fingers into his hair. “How do you know this isn’t some sort of elaborate scheme?”

Leo moved his hands from his eyes over the curve of his skull, as if pushing imaginary hair from his face. “Do you have any idea what state he’s in right now?” he hissed. “What he was like when we found him? What Draxum did to him right in front of us ? Nobody would do that to themself intentionally.”

“Draxum would,” Splinter snarled. “If this boy -”

“His name is Donatello!”

“If Donatello was raised by Draxum, I have no doubt that he’d be just as determined to accomplish his goals!”

“Donnie’s not like Draxum,” Mikey said, speaking up for the first time. “He let us escape from Draxum, like, three times! He wouldn’t do all that and risk getting hurt just to lie to us now.”

Splinter crossed his arms. “There’s got to be some ulterior motive here,” he muttered, more to himself than the others. “I doubt he’d leave willingly.”

“Well,” Leo huffed, “you wouldn’t know that, would you? Because we’re the ones who talked to him, while you hid in front of that stupid TV!”

“I was trying to protect you!”

“And we want to protect him!” Leo cried. “What about Donnie? Draxum hurt him, Dad! What about him? Doesn’t he matter?”

“I want to keep my family safe!” Splinter bellowed, pressing a claw against his chest. “ My family! My sons, you! What does this - this boy have to do with that? He is not our problem!”

Mikey felt his heart skip, something burning hot and hateful flaring up in his chest. Leo tensed, eyes blazing. Raph’s gaze grew furious, his fingers digging so hard into his arms that Mikey distantly worried they would bruise.

Splinter inhaled sharply.

“Donnie is our brother,” Leo hissed. His voice wavered, as though tears of rage were bubbling just under the surface. He stepped forward threateningly. “Don’t - how dare you-”

“You barely know him,” Splinter snarled.

“And whose fault is that?” Raph snapped.

Mikey saw something flickering in Splinter’s eyes, under the anger. Regret, bordering on grief. Mikey looked away guiltily. He didn’t want to be mad, didn’t want to see his family tear itself apart. He hated everything about this. Everyone was quiet for a long moment.

Raph dug his fingers into his arms. “There must’ve been something you could’ve done,” he hissed. “Why did you tell us not to go after him?”

Splinter shook his head. “I was trying to keep you safe,” he muttered. “Baron Draxum is not a merciful Yokai.”

Leo snorted and turned away. “Don’t need to tell us that,” he muttered sullenly. 

Mikey rested a hand on his arm. Please calm down, he begged silently. Please, don’t make this a bigger fight than it already is.

“Leonardo,” Splinter sighed wearily, rubbing his brow. “You boys are my first priority. You always have been. I wanted to keep you from getting hurt.”

“ He’s hurt,” Leo hissed. Mikey saw tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “He’s our brother and he’s hurt. Do you know what he’s dealing with right now?”

“Leo,” Raph said tiredly. 

Mikey squeezed his arm. “He was looking out for us,” he murmured. “Donnie’s safe now, that’s what matters.”

Leo ignored him, turning back to face Splinter fully. Mikey let his hand fall from his arm.

“Right now,” he began hotly, “his arms are ripped to shreds and his knee is twisted, and almost completely popped out of place, by what he called ‘training’. He was still walking and fighting with those, which is bad enough, but y’know what else?”

“Leo,” Raph repeated. 

“I’m sorry,” Splinter interrupted. “I understand your anger, but -”

“He’s also got an infection on his shell,” Leo continued loudly. “He’s sick as hell, because he was wearing this armored shell for - for weeks, judging by the looks of it, and even now he’s terrified to not have it! Because he’s scared that he’s in constant danger! Because Baron Draxum hurt him, and if we’d listened to you, he’d probably be -”

“Leo!” Raph snapped, tensing. “That’s enough!”

Leo finally broke off and glanced at his older brother. His frown deepened, but he stepped back and looked away.

Mikey felt sick. He couldn’t meet his father’s eye. 

Raph shook his head and turned away, storming off without another word. 

Leo followed him out. “I need to stay with Donnie until his fever breaks.” Then he was gone.

Splinter sighed. He glanced at Mikey. “What about you?” he asked sharply. “Do you hate me, too?”

Mikey bristled, scowling at him. “That’s not fair,” he muttered. “I was trying to defend you. Did you forget that already?” He couldn’t help the acid leaking into his voice. He didn’t really care to stop it at the moment.

Splinter winced and rubbed his brow. “Of course. I’m sorry, Michelangelo, I just -” He took a deep breath and met Mikey’s gaze again with a softer look. “How do you feel about all this?” he amended.

Mikey frowned. How did he feel? He wanted to keep the peace in his family, but he couldn’t help but hear the grain of truth in what Leo and Raph said. Splinter had tried to make them forget about Donnie, to leave him behind a second time. He didn’t want to resent his father for fearing Draxum. Clearly, he’d suffered at his hands. Mikey couldn’t blame him for wanting to keep them safe.

So why was he so angry?

He pushed the thought aside. All that mattered was keeping the family together. They couldn’t lose that now that they’d finally gotten them all together.

Yet he couldn’t bring himself to tell Splinter he was okay.

Mikey shook his head and turned away. “I just want Donnie to be okay,” he said, truthfully. “That’s what matters.”

A distant crash snapped him from his thoughts. Mikey frowned and padded to the atrium. Another noise, from the gym. He made his way down to the room and stopped in the doorway. 

Raph was clobbering the punching bag that hung in the middle of the room. He was seething, snarling in anger, every hit sending the bag swinging harder. A couple dumbbells already littered the room, concrete cracked on the walls where he’d thrown them.

Mikey wrapped his arms around himself and pressed himself against the doorframe. He hated when Raph got like this, when all the anger inside became too much to handle. He had kept it packed down remarkably long today, but still. “Raph?” he ventured.

Raph ignored him, sending a few more blows at the bag. Mikey winced.

Raph turned and seized a medicine ball.

Mikey stepped forward. “Raph!” 

He hurled the ball against the wall. The concrete cracked again, and the weight fell to the floor with a clang.

“Raph!” Mikey rushed forward. Just as his older brother finally registered his voice and turned, he tackled him in a hug. His arms barely wrapped around his front, hardly even reaching his shell, but he tried. He just squeezed him as best he could manage.

After a moment, Raph reciprocated. He could envelop Mikey with ease, his huge, strong arms cocooning him. Mikey relaxed. Safe from the world, safe in the arms of his big brother. 

“I’m sorry, Mikey,” Raph mumbled. “I didn’t want you to see that.”

“It’s okay,” Mikey assured him. He paused. “ He’s okay. He’s safe now.” Safe as Mikey was, with Raph looking out for him.

He felt Raph shaking slightly around him. “But he got hurt,” he whispered. “ You got hurt. Everyone’s been hurt, and I couldn’t do anything to help.”

“You didn’t even know about him,” Mikey insisted. “You couldn’t have done much until now.” He pulled back a bit, just enough to look him in the eye. “We all knew what we were getting into,” he said solemnly. “We knew there was danger, or that we might get hurt. Now, he won’t be hurt like that again.” He smiled. “That’s what matters.”

Raph nodded hesitantly.

Mikey leaned against his brother, nestling into the hug. “I’m okay. And I don’t blame you,” he added. “None of us do.”

Raph sighed. “I know.”

They stayed like that for a little while longer. Eventually, Raph pulled away, wiping his eyes with a smile.

“Wanna help me with something?”

It had been hours since the argument. April, unable to stave off her parents any longer, had had to leave. She had plodded out in the early hours of the sunrise with a promise from all of them to send updates in the family chat. Leo said that Donnie had only woken up in a few short snatches, sometimes confused, sometimes just quietly sulking. Mikey didn’t like the sound of it either way. He kept glancing at his phone, lying on the counter beside the stove, as he stirred the big bubbling pot in front of him. He knew all he could do was wait for the text that Leo had promised to send, but he hated waiting. 

The day had somehow kept growing colder as it wore on. Dark clouds and heavy rain covered the sun. The sting of the space between late autumn and early winter filled every corner of the home. As cozy as they’d made it over the years, winter was a stark reminder that it was still a concrete hole in the ground. Mikey had bundled up in his hoodie and sweatpants hours ago, but he still stood a bit too close to the stove in an attempt to stay warm.

Eventually, just as he was about to take the pot off the heat, his phone buzzed. He snatched it eagerly.

NeonLeon: he’s up and talking a bit, said he’s hungry

OhNoONeil: How’s he doing?

NeonLeon: Quiet, think he’s still a little spooked but he’s awake

Mikey grinned in relief and quickly slid the pot to a dead burner. He carefully ladled some of the contents into a bowl, almost to the brim, and picked up the dish with a towel to keep the ceramic from burning his fingers. Finally, he ducked out to the atrium. He could hear Leo’s cheerful voice as he approached the medbay. 

Mikey took a deep breath and brushed the curtain aside. Leo and Donnie both looked up as he entered. “Hey!” He walked forward with a smile. “I made some soup, if you’re hungry. It might make you feel better.” He held the bowl towards his ailing new brother.

Donnie eyed the bowl suspiciously, then Mikey. 

Mikey shuffled his feet. “It’s, uh, cheddar broccoli with some chicken-noodle stuff,” he explained. “It usually helps when we’re sick.”

Leo nudged Donnie’s arm. “Mikey here’s a bit of a culinary artist,” he said with a languid grin. “Trust me, you’ll love it.” Mikey tried to hide a prideful blush.

Donnie hesitated and looked as though he wanted to ask a question but, after a moment, he reached forward and took the bowl with a muted mumble of thanks. Mikey carefully adjusted the towel so Donnie could hold it without getting burned, then settled into the chair next to the bed.

Leo, in the seat next to him, stood and stretched. “Well, I’m gonna get something to eat,” he declared. He raised an eyebrow at Mikey. “Don’t suppose you saved any of that for me?”

“I made it for Donnie,” Mikey replied stubbornly. “You can’t have any.” Donnie tensed, but he kept his eyes on his bowl.

“C’mon, I love that stuff,” Leo pouted. “Not even a bowl?”

“It’s the Sick-Soup. You can only have it if you’re sick.”

He gagged slightly. “God, why do you insist on calling it the Sick-Soup?” he groaned. “Makes it sound like someone puked in it.”

“Because it’s the soup for when you’re sick!” Mikey replied brightly.

“He’s got a point,” Donnie mumbled. “Sick-Soup, soup for the sick.”

“See?” Mikey grinned, elbowing Leo. “He gets it!” He glanced at Donnie hopefully. “How is it?”

Donnie nodded. “Very good.”

Leo groaned loudly. “Oh, no, the light!” He draped himself over Mikey’s shoulders, resting his chin on the laughing box turtle’s head. “Oh, everything’s spinning!” he moaned, pressing a hand against his forehead. “I feel weak! Ailing! Ill!”

“Liar,” Mikey countered with a laugh, pushing him off. He heard a soft, hesitant laugh from Donnie. His chest warmed at the sound.

Leo continued whining when he hit the ground, picking up an English accent as he continued. “Oh, dear, I believe it’s the consumption! Contact the apothecary!” he gasped. “Dear brother, carry me to the garden that I might see the birds once more!” He pressed a hand against his heart. “I fear I’m not long for this world! Oh, woe of woes!”

“Uuuuuugh,” Mikey groaned, rolling his eyes as he sat back. “Fine, you can have some soup.”

Leo grinned and rolled to his feet. “Hey, that might do the trick!”

Mikey stuck out his tongue at him. Leo shrugged smugly. He patted Donnie’s shoulder as he walked past, carefully avoiding the bandages, and smiled. “Let us know if you need anything, alright, hermano ?”

Donnie nodded wordlessly. Leo slipped from the room, then Mikey’s phone buzzed.

NeonLeon: Lmk if he gets sicker/anything happens @McMikey

RiphRaph: And come get me when you want a break. I want to finish here before I head up but if you need a break hmu

RiphRaph: Also what was all that shouting

NeonLeon: Im dying of consumption

RiphRaph: Word

OhNoONeil: See if I had consumption, I’d simply not die

NeonLeon: @OhNoONeil ur out of the will

OhNoONeil: Rude

Mikey sent a quick affirmative to Raph’s message before setting his phone on the table beside him. Donnie sipped the broth from the soup.

Mikey tapped his hands together. “Are you feeling any better?”  

Donnie nodded. “Fine,” he said softly. He cleared his throat and eyed Mikey warily. “I need your help.”

Mikey sat up straighter. “For sure!” he agreed eagerly. “What’s up?”

Donnie hesitated, poking at the chunks of chicken floating in his bowl. “Can you answer some questions for me?”

“Sure thing!”

“What’s the pecking order here?”

Mikey blinked, tilting his head. “The what?”

“Like. . .” Donnie waved his hand vaguely. “Who’s in charge?”

“Oh.” Mikey shrugged. “Raph’s the oldest, so he’s kinda the leader. Dad is technically ‘in charge’, just ‘cuz he’s our dad, y’know? But Raph is the one who really took care of Leo and I.”

Donnie’s eyes narrowed. “Why?” he pressed. “Did Splinter have other work or something?”

Mikey hesitated, twisting his hands. “No. . .” He chewed on his lip. “I did some research,” he said quietly. “Because I thought he was sick. I think it’s probably depression or something. Once we got old enough to sorta fend for ourselves, he kinda checked out. He’d just sit in front of the TV or in his bed for days or weeks, never talking or anything. Raph had to step up and take care of us.”

Donnie nodded slowly. He took a small bite of the soup. “And what happens when someone messes up?” he continued nonchalantly. His voice was light. He was trying to be casual about it, but he was tense. 

Mikey felt his chest twist. “Well, usually, we help each other fix it!” he replied with a tone of forced brightness. 

Donnie raised an eyebrow skeptically. “No punishments or anything?” he asked cynically. “Even when you break a rule?”

Mikey shrugged. “I mean, Dad might yell at us,” he admitted, “or Raph, sometimes. Usually if we make a mess or break something, we have to clean it up. Sometimes we’re, like, grounded for a couple days or something. But nothing bad, no.”

Donnie eyed him for a moment before returning his gaze to his bowl.

Mikey shifted forward and rested a hand on the side of the bed. He’d noticed that Donnie didn’t seem too fond of his hug earlier and especially didn’t want to press him now. “Donnie,” he said quietly, “nobody’s gonna hurt you here, for any reason.” He smiled warmly. “You’re safe here. I swear it.”

Donnie met his eye for a brief second. Mikey could tell that he didn’t quite believe him. He couldn’t really blame him. Still, it hurt. He wished he could explain to him just how okay he was. How he and Leo and Raph and April looked out for each other, how they’d let the world fall before they let anyone hurt the other, how Donnie was now included in that rule. Mikey wished he could explain how safe Raph was, with his strong, warm hugs and big laugh and constant fretting. He wished he could explain how secure Leo was, with his penchant for making people laugh and easy confidence and constant presence during nightmares. He wished he could explain how steady April was, with her strong self-assurance and loud encouragement and steadfast reassurance. He wished he could explain how safe Mikey felt with them, like the entire world could collapse outside their lair and he wouldn’t know or care as long as he had his brothers and sister. He wished Donnie could understand all that, just from his gaze, that they would let the world burn before Draxum ever laid a hand on him again. Before anyone ever hurt him like Draxum had.

Apparently, he couldn’t.

Donnie dropped his gaze again. “What are the rules?” he continued. 

Disappointed, Mikey shifted back to his previous position. “Mostly little stuff: don’t interrupt Dad’s TV unless it’s important, no loud noises after people start going to bed, if you make a mess then clean it up, no food in bed-”

Donnie jolted at the last one, turning to Miky with wide eyes as he held the bowl at arm’s length.

“No!” Mikey amended quickly, waving his hands. “No, it’s okay since you’re sick! We can eat in bed when we’re sick!” He laughed nervously. “I’m not going to set you up to get in trouble, dude. You’re fine, I promise.”

Donnie squinted suspiciously. He glanced at the doorway, then lowered the bowl to his lap again. He continued eating, but more quickly now. His eyes cut to the doorway several times, anxiously watching for anyone new arrivals. Mikey quietly kicked himself for not thinking through his words.

Donnie set the empty bowl on the table by his bed and leaned back with a weary sigh.

“You need anything else?” Mikey prodded. “More soup? Water? Tea? I can make some tea. Raph has this ginger tea that helps when I don’t feel good.”

“I’m okay.”

He tilted his head. “You sure? It’s no problem.”

Donnie hesitated. “I’m actually pretty thirsty,” he mumbled. “If it’s not any trouble.”

Mikey nodded. When he returned with the glass, he noticed Donnie shivering. He couldn’t tell if it was just from the fever or, more likely, the pervasive chill in the room.

“Thanks,” Donnie murmured as he accepted the drink. “I’m sorry.”

Mikey frowned as he sat again. “Sorry?” he echoed. “Sorry for what?”

Donnie shrugged as he sipped the water. “Being so useless, I guess,” he muttered. “I can usually take care of myself. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately.”

Mikey shifted forward once again and rested a hand on his brother’s arm. Suddenly remembering Donnie’s aversion to touch, he almost pulled away, but he didn’t seem too distressed by it. In fact, he almost leaned into it. He felt uncomfortably warm, still, but not quite as bad as before. Mikey smiled gently. “What’s wrong is that you got hurt,” he said. “And your body needs time and rest to make you not hurt. That’s not your fault. You just need to rest and recover a bit, okay? We don’t mind helping you out.”

Donnie smiled wanly. It was strained, and definitely forced. He was still scared. Mikey could tell.

“Thank you, Mikey,” he murmured. He shivered again, then set the glass aside and pulled his blankets up to his chin. After a moment, his eyes drifted closed and his breathing steadied.

Mikey sat back again and watched him for a moment. He was sleeping, but fitfully. Mikey couldn’t even imagine the nightmares he faced. He picked up his phone.

McMikey: I think he needs a space heater in here. It’s getting pretty cold.

NeonLeon: yea im looking for 1 rn

RiphRaph: I think the spare’s in the storage closet

NeonLeon: thx, found it

McMikey: Can you get my heat-up plushie from my room too? It’s the frog.

RiphRaph: That’s a good idea. I’ve got an extra he can have.

As Mikey typed his response, the curtain swished open and Leo plodded in, rolling the discussed space heater behind him. He held a half-eaten slice of pizza in one hand, though he transferred it to his mouth as he began wrangling the cord of the heater.

Mikey rocked his chair back on two legs and leaned back. “We need to ask his favorite color,” he whispered. 

“Burble,” Leo mumbled around the pizza in his mouth.

“What?”

He plugged in the heater and picked up the pizza again as he switched it on. “Purple,” he repeated. “He told me.” The heater hummed as it started up. 

Mikey grinned. “In that case,” he said brightly, jumping up and grabbing Leo’s arm, “Raph’s on duty. I need your help.”

Chapter Text

Donnie awoke slowly. His head felt watery, and he didn’t remember falling asleep again. He knew he’d briefly awoken a few hours after the conversation with Mikey and had a second bowl of soup, but his memories from that bout of wakefulness were fuzzy. He wasn’t even sure who had been sitting with him then. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. The room was darker than before, though it was a little warmer. He shifted to sit up and spotted a new space heater plugged into the wall next to him, glowing a warm red as it hummed. The white noise was sweet, soft, against the silence. 

“Hey, man.”

Donnie jumped and turned to the other side to see Raph’s hulking form in the chair, watching something on his phone. How did he miss him? That was foolish.

Raph smiled apologetically and held up his hands. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Donnie pushed himself up to sit up against the cushions and blanket against his back, trying his best to ignore his pounding heart, still fluttering from being spooked. He peered through the slit in the medbay curtains at the dark and quiet atrium beyond, though he made sure to keep watch on Raph from the corner of his eye. “What time is it?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. His head still felt sticky.

“Pretty late,” Raph said with a rueful smile. “Everyone else turned in about an hour ago.”

“How long have I been out?”

“You’ve been on and off all day, but last time you ate was ‘bout six hours ago. You weren’t too lucid during that, though, so I dunno if it really counts as being awake.”

Six hours? Dammit. He was really off his game. He couldn’t keep letting his guard down like this, especially with the constant monitoring they had him under. He half-wanted to tell Raph that he didn’t need someone to sit with him at all times - after all, it wasn’t like he could do much - but he thought better of it. He didn’t want to start anything.

He reached for the glass of water on his nightstand. As he did, the blanket slipped off his arm, and he shivered. The space heater definitely helped the situation, but it was still cold, and getting colder. 

Apparently, Raph noticed his discomfort. “You cold?” he asked lightly.

Donnie took a sip of his water and shook his head. “I’m fine.” According to Mikey, Raph was the one ‘in charge’. Donnie needed to watch his step around him. Anyways, he already had a space heater and enough blankets to build a fort. It’s not like there was much else they could do.

“Well, if you need it,” Raph continued, reaching for something by his side, “there’s this little guy!” Donnie tensed at the movement, then paused when Raph held up a little pig plushie. He frowned at it and tilted his head in confusion. “He’s a heating plush,” Raph explained. “You stick him in the microwave for a few minutes, and he warms up like a hot water bottle.”

A microwave! Did they actually have one? Donnie hadn’t even considered that. He would’ve loved to see it in action. Maybe he could even take it apart to see how a functioning one worked! Did the turntable in the middle work? How fast did it spin? Did it glow when activated like the space heater or toaster? That would -

Nope. Nope, back to reality. He needed to keep his head on straight. Exploring human technology could wait for another time, after he’d figured out the rules here.

“Do you want me to warm him up for you?” Raph offered.

Donnie hesitated. This was a conundrum. Warming up the plush would be inconvenient for Raph. Agreeing would make him go out of his way to help Donnie. But then, he had offered. Perhaps he wanted him to agree? If he turned him down, would that be rude? Would it be taken as rejecting their hospitality? Or if he agreed, would it be taking advantage of that same hospitality? Hospitality that he hadn’t even earned in the first place?

“Donnie?” Raph tilted his head. “You okay?”

Shit. Just choose an answer, deal with the consequences. 

Short answer: Donnie was cold.

He nodded. “Yes, that might be beneficial,” he mumbled. “Thank you.” He tensed in anticipation for whatever immediate response he might have invoked, but nothing came.

Raph just nodded and stood. “I’ll need to go down to the kitchen,” he added. “I’m gonna grab a snack while I’m there. You want something?”

Donnie groaned inwardly, bunching his blankets in his hands. Now, simply ‘grabbing a snack’ while already in the kitchen was marginally less inconvenient than getting up and going to the kitchen just for it. It wouldn’t be nearly as difficult, but how abundant was food here? Would he be wasting resources, or -

Raph patted his shoulder, making him jump. “I’m gonna grab you something.”

Donnie blinked. “Oh.” Well, that was solved. Still, despite the fact that he hadn’t made a choice, he couldn’t help but feel he’d chosen wrong. “Thank you,” he added hastily.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Donnie fought an ironic laugh. Too late for that.

As Raph trotted to the door, he glanced at the table by the doorway and paused. “Oh, I almost forgot!” He picked up a bundle from the table and handed it to Donnie with a smile. “Mikey and Leo picked these up for you today, and April brought over the book.”

Surprised, Donnie accepted the bundle. He didn’t know how to react. By the time he thought to repeat his thanks, Raph was already gone. At the bottom of the stack was something heavy and firm, likely the book. He slipped it out and squinted at the cover in the dim light. Even with the big block text, it was too dark to read, and his head was still soupy enough that he couldn’t quite get his eyes to focus. He set it next to the water on his nightstand and returned his attention to the rest of the gift. He squeezed the warm, thick fabric between his fingers, soft and comforting. Clothes, probably.

Leo had shown him where the bathroom was earlier that day, luckily right next to the medbay. Donnie still hadn’t seen the rest of the lair. He didn’t know when - or if - he’d be allowed to. He had stumbled over a couple times already, so he stood unsteadily from the cot. He shivered again as his feet hit the cold concrete, but he leaned against the wall and crept forward through the dark room, hugging the bundle to his chest. Hopping to keep his weight off his injured knee, he peered out from the doorway and did a quick scan of the area. All clear. He worried that Raph might get mad at him for sneaking away like this, but he’d said the plush would take at least a few minutes, not to mention the snacks. Surely that gave Donnie enough time.

His head was still spinning as he slipped to the bathroom and shut the door, locking it behind him. He jiggled the handle a couple times to make sure it was firmly locked, then flicked the light on. After his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, he continued investigating the bundle.

Indeed, clothes. A soft pair of sweatpants, a few thick pairs of socks, and a sweater. Donnie set the other clothes on the sink and held up the hoodie in front of him. It was big. He’d practically be drowning in it. But the inside was soft, soft enough that it likely wouldn’t irritate his shell once the bandages came off.

And it was purple.

For some reason, that made Donnie’s eyes misty. His throat closed up a little as he looked at it. He didn’t know why. It was just a hoodie. Just a purple hoodie, almost the exact shade as the markings on his shoulders. Nothing special. Just purple.

As he looked at it, something fell from the pocket. He frowned and knelt to pick up the scraps of fabric.

His maroon mask, cleaned of blood - and, he noticed begrudgingly, his eyebrows - and a new mask, cut in the same style, but in the same purple of the hoodie. He turned his attention to a small piece of paper that had fallen with it.

Thought you might be cold! - Mikey

A heart, a couple lightning bolts, and a smiley face followed the signature.

In case you want some more color in your wardrobe - Leo

Leo had clearly attempted to draw something, but ended up scribbling it out. Donnie chuckled a little at the sight. He sat on the floor, staring at the note in one hand, the hoodie clenched tightly in his other.

He felt tears falling to the tile. He was confused. He didn’t know what he was feeling, or why, and he hated, hated not knowing things. He felt blind and lost. He’d left with these people because he wasn’t safe with Draxum. The scars lining his arms and plastron were clear demonstrations of that, and those were afflicted long before his most recent attack. The entire point of betraying his master was to be safe.

So why was he still so scared? Did he really believe they would hurt him? They’d gotten him warm clothes because he was cold, made him soup because he was hungry, taken care of him because he was sick, opened up their home because he was in danger. And yet, it was all so unfamiliar. He wanted desperately to believe that this kindness was genuine, but he couldn’t trust it. He was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, the coin to flip. All he knew was wariness, tension, constant vigilance. Even the gargoyles had had their limits, as far as safety went. He couldn’t fathom kindness for the sake of it. He couldn’t wrap his head around total security. 

Mikey and Leo didn’t seem to fear Raph. So why did he? When Raph and Leo pestered Mikey for a share of the soup, he had relented with a smile. So why was Donnie so afraid of asking for more, when he was still hungry? Leo was cheerful when he tended his wounds and checked his fever. So why did he feel the need to insist he could do it himself?

But then, this might just be their facade. Everyone had rules and limits. Theirs may be different from Draxum’s, but they had them all the same. One day he would mess up, and then he’d see. He didn’t know what would make them that angry, but there had to be something. Everyone had rules, silent, unspoken regulations for interacting and living in peace. He just had to figure them out. 

Donnie had first heard the phrase ‘walking on eggshells’ as a small child, listening to Draxum and some investor complaining about someone else. He liked the phrase. It explained human interaction so well. Every interaction and relationship seemed to have a rulebook - safe places to step, where you wouldn’t break the eggs. First meetings were clumsy as people tried to map out the safe ground, but after some time, they could waltz through without even looking at the shells - without even noticing they were there. That seemed to be where the other three were at, calming walking along, so used to the minutiae and regulations of their interactions that they didn’t even see the shells. Then there was Donnie, clumsily tripping along, stumbling through every minute, helplessly blind to the obstacles, and desperately praying that nothing would break under his next step.

He’d been lucky to avoid angering them so far, but that wouldn’t hold out. Eventually, something would break. And only then he’d begin to learn how these people worked. That was the worst part - the only way to learn how to be safe with them was to put himself in danger. He wouldn’t find out what to avoid until he hit it. 

But then, Mikey had told him, sworn to him, that he was safe. Mikey didn’t seem like a liar. 

The evidence was all mixed up. He had no solid ground on which to form a theory, no hypothesis to test. Even if he had, there was no way to test such a hypothesis without risking himself. If  he made them mad, he didn’t know what could happen. He didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Donnie took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. Best to play it safe for now.

As he finally composed himself, he heard footsteps outside in the hallway. He froze, tense, waiting for Raph to knock on the door and demand to know why he’d left. But he didn’t. He just walked past. 

Donnie silently cursed himself for losing track of time and quickly pulled the clothes on. It was difficult, still so stiff with achiness and with his knee protesting every movement, but he managed. They were warm, and very soft. The hoodie almost fell to his knees. He stood before the mirror and picked up the two masks again. He missed the feeling of wearing one. He hadn’t realized how much he’d grown used to it. Besides, all the others wore one too. 

He picked up his old maroon mask, then paused as he held it before his face, staring at the reflection in the mirror. All he saw was Turtle, staring back at him. Turtle, Mini-Boss, Other-Brother.

He set it down and picked up the purple one, tying it around his eyes. He smiled.

Donatello.

Purple was much more his color, anyways.

Still, it was missing something. As much as the eyebrows had started as a small mark of freedom, or perhaps more of an inside joke with himself, they had proven useful. Draxum had often been frustrated with his lack of facial expressions, and the eyebrows had aided in expressing his emotions more efficiently. 

Part of him wanted to get back to the medbay before Raph got too angry, but another part of him pointed out that he was already late. What was a minute more? Anyways, if he was going to be in trouble for this, he wanted to put that off as long as possible. 

There were a few cups with toothbrushes lining the sink - red, blue, orange, and a yellow one that he assumed belonged to April. In the yellow cup were a few other items, a couple makeup brushes and what must have been a spare pair of glasses. Donnie distantly wondered how often she stayed over to justify keeping her spare glasses here.

What he was more focused on, however, was the eyeliner.

To hell with it. 

When he finally limped back into the medbay, two thick black eyebrows adorned the new mask, though they were shadowed by the hood pulled over his head. Raph was seated in his usual chair, focused on some video playing out on his phone as he finished off his snack. On the nightstand sat a plate of toast with jam, next to his refilled glass of water. The pig plush sat on the cot, leaning against the pillows and tucked into the blankets as though it had been sleeping. The sight would’ve made Donnie smile if he wasn’t so afraid. He paused at the doorway, huddled deeper into his hoodie, suddenly aware again of his nerves. If nothing else, at least he’d finally see how Raph would react to Donnie messing up.

Raph looked up and flashed a toothy grin. “Hey,” he greeted brightly. “Lookin’ good, Dee!”

Donnie relaxed a bit. “Well, y’know,” he shrugged hesitantly. “Compliments to the stylists!”

Raph laughed. It was a big, round, full laugh. Nothing cruel could hide in that laugh. Donnie felt the tension in his chest easing. “You’ve gotta tell Mikey and Leo you like it,” Raph added. “They spent forever deciding on the color.”

“I will.” He perched on the edge of the bed and picked up the plate left for him. He would’ve much preferred to lie down again, but he didn’t want to test the ‘no eating in bed’ rule Mikey had conveyed to him earlier. He probably shouldn’t even be sitting on the edge like this, but he didn’t want to sit in the beanbags in case they qualified as ‘bed’ and he’d get in trouble. “Thank you,” he added, “for the snack.” 

“Anytime,” Raph shrugged. “I hope it’s enough. If you’re still hungry, I can get you some more.” 

Donnie took a nibble of the toast and nodded. “It’s good.” He cleared his throat and shifted a little. “Y’know,” he said slowly, trying to ignore the pressure rebuilding in his chest, “you all don’t need to sit with me all day. I’m not going to try anything.”

“Well,” Raph shrugged, “Leo’s worried ab-” He paused and squinted at Donnie. “Wait, what was that last part?”

Donnie dropped his gaze and shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not going to try anything?”

“Try. . .?” 

“Like, try to leave. Or something.”

Raph stared blankly at him, his brow creased in concern. “Don, you’re not. . .”

“I’m sorry,” Donnie mumbled, ducking his head even further into the hood so that it blocked Raph from view. He felt his heart thundering against his plastron.  “I’m sorry, forget it. I shouldn’t ha-”

A hand landed on his shoulder, and he flinched so hard that the plate skittered from his grasp. He watched in horror as it hit the ground, as sticky jam splattered on the floor, as the plastic plate clattered as it rolled away. Raph gave a cry of surprise. His hand disappeared from Donnie’s shoulder as he sidestepped to avoid the mess.

His hand was in the air and Donnie couldn’t see him his hand was in the air his hand was over Donnie he was going to HURT HIM -

“I’m sorry!” Donnie yelped, raising his arms over his head as he curled up on himself even more. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t - I’ll -”

Shit, shit, apologizing wasn’t going to do anything, he knew that, the mess was still on the floor. He jolted to his feet and reached for the roll of paper towels sitting on the nightstand. He winced as his head throbbed in protest, his knee twinged, his back stung, but he didn’t stop moving, he just had to clean it up, clean up before Raph got too mad, he’d see that he could fix his mistakes.

“I’m sorry, I’ll clean it up, I didn’t mean to, I -”

“Donnie!” Raph grabbed Donnie’s arms, right over where Draxum had grabbed him before throwing him in the ring. The dark bruise flared with pain under Raph’s grip. Donnie flinched again, dropping the paper towels. They left a trail in their wake as they rolled away, mocking his panic with their leisurely pace. This was it. He’d been too slow, too clumsy, too jumpy, too stupid, and now he’d messed up at last and he’d have his questions answered. He just squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the blows, the shouts, whatever it was that he’d finally evoked. Everything seemed to go dark and quiet, his entire body seemed numb with fear.

Something was pressed to his mouth, and he bit down. He gagged at the familiar taste of raw lemon peel.

“Breathe, Donnie, just breathe!”

He cracked his eyes open to find himself sitting on the floor, leaning back against the nightstand. Raph knelt in front of him, eyes wide. It may have been a trick of the dim light, but it almost looked like there were tears in his eyes.

Donnie removed the lemon from his mouth and wiped his beak with his sleeve. He stared at the fruit in his hand. “Do - d’you just carry these around?” he panted. “Did you just have this?” It would’ve been funny, in other circumstances.

Raph smiled sheepishly. “Grabbed it while I was in the kitchen. You seemed a little jumpy.”

Donnie’s gaze strayed to the mess, right beside where Raph knelt, and he winced again. “I’ll take care of that,” he mumbled, aggressively wiping the tears from his eyes as he attempted to stand. “I’m sorry.”

“Donnie.” Raph once again rested his hands on Donnie’s shoulders. “Buddy, just slow down for a second, okay? Please slow down.” 

Donnie instinctively sat back, stiff, and awaited further instructions.

“Take a few deep breaths, alright? And stop apologizing, you don’t have to apologize for anything.”

He decided to focus on the first bit at first. Just breathe. Nice and easy. A few deep breaths. 

“I’ll clean it up,” Raph assured him softly. “It’s just some toast, Donnie, it’s fine. Really, really fine. I cannot express to you how fine it is.”

Donnie eyed him suspiciously. “But I made the mess,” he mumbled. “It was my fault.”

“No, I shouldn’t have startled you like that,” Raph assured him. “I should’ve been more careful. I’m sorry, Don.” His voice wavered a bit, and he wiped his eyes. “Shit, Donnie, I didn’t mean to scare you. I - I wasn’t thinking. I’m so sorry. ” 

Donnie bit his lip. “So I’m not in trouble?” he whispered. It seemed too good to be true.

“ No, ” Raph answered firmly. “Donnie, you will never be in trouble like - like that. Not here.” 

Donnie felt his chin quivering. “Oh.” He dropped his gaze to his bandaged hands. He felt tears dripping from his eyes, down his new mask. The purple mask. Because he was Donatello now, not Turtle, and maybe Donatello didn’t have to be as scared as Turtle had.

“Here, c’mon,” Raph murmured. He hesitantly held out a hand towards Donnie. “Let’s get you back in bed, okay? You need to rest.”

Donnie took his hand and pushed himself to his feet. Immediately, his vision went white and his head spun, and his knees buckled before he’d even fully stood. Before he could fall, Raph scooped him up and gently set him on the cot. Donnie didn’t bother arguing. He was so tired of arguin. 

Something warm was placed on his chest. The heating plush. He’d totally forgotten about it. Donnie rested a hand on the faux fur. It was pleasantly warm, and it smelled of lavender. He closed his eyes and hugged it tightly to his chest. He rolled onto his side to get the pressure off his sore back and buried his face in the warm fabric.

Raph pulled the mussed blankets up and tucked them around Donnie’s shoulders. “You’re okay. Just take it easy,” he murmured. “Let me know if you need anything, okay? I’ll be right here.”

Donnie nodded. Raph reached forward, like he wanted to pat Donnie’s head, or wipe away the remnants of his tears, but then he hesitated and pulled away, turning back to the paper towels in the corner.

Despite everything, Donnie half-wished he hadn’t pulled away. That just made him more confused.

He didn’t want to fall asleep just yet, but he couldn’t quite stay awake either. He just laid there with his eyes closed, listening to Raph shuffling around the room, the telltale tearing of paper towel perforations, something that sounded suspiciously like sniffling, but could’ve easily been the paper towels swishing over the concrete. After a minute, a new voice joined the quiet atmosphere.

“Raph?” Leo whispered. “What happened?”

There was a pause. “Leo, I. . . I messed up,” Raph mumbled. Donnie heard the two of them leaving the room, then muted mutters outside the curtain.  

Donnie couldn’t fight it anymore. He finally allowed himself to fall asleep, with the last thing he saw being a scrap of blue as the curtain swished open.

Chapter Text

Donnie rubbed his eyes as he blinked awake again. The pale light leaking in from the atrium cast the room in weak shadows. Not yet bright enough to read by, he noted, glancing ruefully at the book on his side table. Leo was sprawled out on the beanbag on the other side of the room with a comic book. He was watching Donnie from the corner of his eye, but clearly waiting for him to speak first.

Donnie cleared his throat. “Morning.”

“Morning, hermano! ” Leo flashed him a smile and flicked on the lights. The circles under his eyes seemed darker than before, but he was cheerful. “How are you feeling on this lovely day?”

“Fine.” Donnie felt the irony as soon as he said it, the pervasive ache from the past days arching up his back the moment he tried to sit up. Between the physical injuries, the fever, the infection, and his suffocating anxiety, he knew it would be a long time before he was actually ‘fine’. 

Leo was at his side in a flash, gently helping him to sit up. “Take it easy,” he murmured reassuringly. Donnie settled back with a sigh. “Here,” Leo added, holding up a thermometer, “I need to check your temperature.” 

Donnie grimaced, but didn’t protest. He turned the thermometer over in his mouth as he stared vacantly at the wall, eyes drooping. Leo took it back and frowned, humming discontentedly. Donnie instinctively bit his lip. He sounded disappointed. Leo handed him a few pills. “These’ll help.” After he took the meds, Leo cleared his throat. “So, uh, Raph told me what happened last night,” he said, almost apologetically.

Donnie looked up anxiously. “Is he mad?”

“No,” Leo assured him quickly. “He feels pretty bad about scaring you. He never meant to make you uncomfortable.”

Donnie dropped his gaze and nodded. “I know,” he mumbled. “It’s - I know he won’t really hurt me - I don’t think he will, anyways -”

“He won’t,” Leo assured him quickly. “None of us will.”

“Right,” Donnie agreed hesitantly. “I know that now, but -” He groaned and pressed a hand against his eyes. “I don’t know why I freaked out like that last night,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Leo said gently. “I get it. We both just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Donnie winced and set down his glass. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Good, good,” Leo murmured distractedly. “He said that you mentioned we don’t have to sit with you because you won’t. . . try anything?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

There was a pause. “Donnie,” Leo said slowly, sitting in the chair by the cot, “why do you think I’m here right now?”

Donnie’s eyes shot open. He instantly regretted not trying to hide his fear, because Leo immediately backpedaled.

“There’s no right or wrong answer,” Leo added quickly, holding up his hands. “I just want to know what you’re thinking - it’s fine, whatever it is, I’m just trying to understand the situation.”

Yeah, that made two of them.

Donnie cleared his throat and looked away. “You’re staying here to make sure I don’t try to leave or sabotage anything,” he mumbled, picking at the bandages on his hands. “Surveillance.” 

There was a pause, then Leo took a deep breath. “Okay,” he murmured. “That’s not. . . Don, we’re not sitting with you to, like. . . keep you in check, or something. You’re sick.”

Donnie squinted at him. “I know. I’ve been sick before. What does that have to do with it?”

Leo blinked. “Have you never had someone stay with you while you’re sick?”

“No?” He’d been ill like this before, bad fevers and headaches and nausea that made his head spin every time he sat up. Usually, he was just set up with some medical supplies in the clinic and left to take care of himself until he was well enough to get back to his room on his own. The gargoyles would bring him food, but beyond that, it was just lonely waiting. If he needed anything, he’d just had to get it himself.

Leo’s eyes fluttered slightly, and he took another deep breath. “We’re not. . . you’re not a prisoner here, Don,” he explained gently. “We’re sitting with you to make sure that you’re okay. If your fever gets worse or you, like, pass out or something, and there’s nobody here, it could be really bad. And you need to rest as much as possible, so if you need something, it’s better for one of us to get it rather than you tiring yourself out.”

Donnie frowned and looked away. “Oh.” He continued fidgeting with his hand. “Okay.”

After a moment, Leo stood and stretched. “Mikey made waffles,” he said brightly. “I’ll get you some.” After a pause, he grinned. “Maybe they’ll make you feel batter !”

Donnie gave him an unimpressed frown.

“Get it? Like -”

“Yes, I got it.”

Leo laughed and patted his shoulder. “Yeah, you’ll fit in just fine.” He yawned widely as he strode out, the curtain swishing behind him.

Donnie turned his focus to the book on his side table, finally reaching over to pull it into his lap.

Intro to Computer Science: Construction, Circuitry, and Coding - 5th Edition.

Donnie felt his heart leap. He practically ripped the cover open and grinned as he read through the first few pages, coding and history and software. “Phenomenal,” he whispered.

He had finished the introduction by the time Leo reappeared, holding two plates piled with steaming waffles. The slider laughed. “April thought you’d like the book,” he said brightly. “She got it from her school’s library, so you’ve got it for a few weeks.”

Donnie grinned at him, eyes shining. “It’s fascinating!” he cried, holding up the heavy tome. “Did you know that the first computer was made by someone called Ada Lovelace in the 1840s? That’s almost two centuries ago!”

“I did not know that,” Leo admitted, setting the plate on the side table. “How did she do that?”

“She created an algorithm to act in a machine built by this other guy, Charles Babbage,” he explained around a mouthful of food. “She was a mathematical genius.”

Leo grinned. “She must’ve been great at Ada-ition!”

Donnie scowled at him again. “Do you always do that?”

“Yep. Kinda my thing. You’ll learn to love it.” Leo collapsed into his beanbag again with a sigh and continued eating his own breakfast. “Also,” he added, gesturing at Donnie with a half-eaten waffle, “noticed you’re sporting the threads Mikey and I found you! How do you like them?”

“It’s very comfortable,” Donnie said agreeably. Recalling what Raph had told him the night before, he quickly added, “And I like the color.”

Leo grinned proudly. “I’m glad you like it,” he continued. “Very chic, yet functional - my inspo for this design was simplicity, y’know?”

“It’s sweatpants and a hoodie.”

“Exactly!” He kicked his feet up on the chair in front of him. “See, you get me. Plus, I gotta say, purple suits you great .”

Donnie rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. He propped the book open next to him, and they continued eating in silence as he read. He’d devoured almost the entire plate when Leo cleared his throat.

“So,” he began slowly, “whenever you’re feeling up to it, I need to replace your bandages today.”

Donnie tensed. “Is there any way to convince you not to?”

“Nope.”

He sighed and set the book and his empty plate on the side table. “Alright, then, let’s get it over with.”

Leo nodded and stood. “Do you want me to talk you through what I’m doing?” he offered. “That usually makes Raph feel better, if he knows what’s going on when I’m helping him.”

Donnie shook his head sharply. “No, that sounds like a nightmare.”

“Fair enough. Do you want me to call in one of the others to distract you or something?”

He shuddered. “No.” He didn’t want anyone to just sit there and watch while he was so vulnerable. He perched on the edge of the bed and peeled off his hoodie, shivering in the cold as he did. “Please just do it quickly.”

Leo nodded and reached out to pat his shoulder again, then paused and dropped his hand by his side. “If you want to stop and take a break, just let me know,” he instructed, walking around to Donnie’s back. “And tell me if I accidentally hurt you.”

Donnie just nodded and squeezed his eyes shut.

Removing the bandages wasn’t too bad. Leo chatted lightly through the whole thing, telling him about some old action movies he liked and drama happening at April’s school - clearly nothing that he expected Donnie to react to, just white noise to fill the silence. He would occasionally pause with instructions to move an arm or lean forward a bit, but it was mostly just light chatter. He didn’t need to touch Donnie’s shell too much, so it wasn’t terrible. 

Then, came the new dressing.

Physically, the antibiotic cream should have felt good on his stinging wounds, but every touch made him shudder and cringe. The fact that he was letting someone this close to his biggest vulnerability made him sick. Every nerve screamed that there was danger , pressing him to defend himself, push him away from his wounds, not to let this person so close to his biggest weakness. It took everything in him to just sit still and let Leo work. He would’ve still preferred to avoid the procedure entirely, but he recognized that he needed it. He couldn’t sit with his shell festering like this, and it wasn’t like he could reach it to treat it himself. 

Still, he felt sicker with every touch. He dry-heaved once or twice, hand clamped over his mouth, which prompted Leo to stop and take a step back.

“Sorry,” he murmured frettfully. “Do you need to take a break?”

Donnie shut his eyes and shook his head. He just wanted it to be over with. Leo hesitated, but continued his work. Donnie could tell he was trying to be gentle and quick, but it didn’t help much.

“I’m almost done,” Leo whispered fervently. “Sorry.”

Donnie almost gagged at the next touch, digging his fingers into his knees to keep himself from swatting him away. 

“Okay, that’s done, time for new bandages,” Leo sighed, sounding relieved. “Arms up.”

Donnie shook his head, jaw clenched tightly, eyes shut.

A pause. “Donnie, I need to get your bandages on. Can you move your arms?”

He shook his head again.

“Do you need a few minutes?”

Donnie grit his teeth. He couldn’t move, couldn’t respond, couldn’t will his arms to move out of the way. He wanted to speak, but the words seemed stuck in his throat, the air trapped in his lungs. If anything or anyone touched him, he felt he’d implode.

“Donnie, look at me.”

Oh, great. That always ended well. Donnie forced his eyes open to see Leo in front of him. He expected to see frustration or annoyance in his gaze, but there was none. Leo just smiled sympathetically at him.

“Hey, you’re doing really, really well,” he said softly, taking Donnie’s face in his hands. “I know this must be tough for you, but you’re pushing through like a champion. You’re almost done. I just need you to trust me for a few more seconds, okay?” He grinned. “You’re lucky your medic holds the speediest mummy-wrapping title for four years in a row! I promise, this’ll be over in a flash.”

Donnie bit his lip. Just trust him for a few seconds more. He could do that. He nodded slowly. Leo leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together, just briefly, before returning to his previous position. The gesture gave Donnie an odd sense of reassurance. It was strange that the comfort came from a touch. With Draxum, touch was never comforting.

“You ready?” Leo prodded gently. 

Donnie shuddered, but lifted his arms to allow him to wrap the bandages around his torso again. “Did - did you know the fastest surgery in recorded history ended with three deaths?” he whispered shakily.

“No, I didn’t!” Leo replied brightly. “How did they fuck up that badly?”

“It - it was in the early 1800s, before anesthesia,” he explained, voice trembling at the continued touch of the gauze against his back. “Surgeries had to be done really quickly, like under a couple minutes, because the patients were awake for the whole thing.”

“Yikes.”

“Yikes indeed.” He broke off and bit his lip to swallow a protest before continuing. “The guy, Doctor Liston, he was famous for record-time surgeries and amputations. One day he was amputating someone’s leg because it had sepsis, then the contaminated knife cut two other people in his rush, and all three of them died.” Draxum had showed him that story in a history book once, and they’d both laughed over the incompetence. It was a nice memory. 

Donnie felt sick.

Leo made a vague noise of disgust. “Well, he should’ve taken some lessons with me!” He fastened off the bandage and stepped back proudly. “Fastest bandage-work this side of the Mississippi!” 

Donnie sagged in relief. “Oh, thank God,” he sighed, reaching for his hoodie. “Glad that’s over with.”

Leo cleared his throat. “I’m, uh, probably gonna have to do that pretty often,” he informed him.

Donnie paused, looking at him with dismay. “How often?”

“Once a day, at least for the next few days.”

He groaned and buried his face in his hands.

“Hey, you made it through!” Leo insisted brightly, rounding the cot to stand in front of him. “And now you know what to expect, right?”

Donnie shrugged. He couldn’t get himself to talk anymore. His voice felt like molasses.

Leo held out his hand, and Donnie gave him his own. The slider continued his story about somebody in April’s school newspaper giving her trouble as he quickly unwrapped and redressed his wounds. Donnie just silently nodded along. This was much less uncomfortable than his shell and shoulders had been, but he still wished it wasn’t necessary.

Leo tied off the last bandage. “There.” He lowered Donnie’s hand to rest next to the other and looked up at him with a blinding smile. “Record time! I could take ol’ Liston anyday.”

Donnie smiled wearily and shifted back to lie down again. He pulled the blankets up to his nose and rolled onto his side, grateful for the layers between his skin and the outside world.

Leo picked up his half-empty water cup from the nightstand and turned to the sink. “You need anything?”

Donnie just shook his head.

Leo nodded as he set the refilled glass back in its spot. “Do you want me to reheat that plush for you? It’s gonna get pretty cold today.”

He hesitated, then nodded and handed him the pig that was still resting on his pillow. He tried to voice his thanks, but all that came out was a strained hum.

Leo didn’t seem to mind. “Alright, back in a flash.”

As he turned to the door, Mikey tossed the curtain aside and breezed in. “Mornin’, Donnie!” he sang. He paused upon seeing him cocooned in the blankets and tilted his head. “You okay?”

Leo glanced briefly at Donnie, who nodded. “Had to change his bandages,” he explained, picking up the empty plates. “It was harrowing.” He grinned at him as he strode out. “But definitely could’ve been worse!”

Donnie wrinkled his beak in a dry smile and rolled his eyes. 

Mikey frowned at the curtain. “What’s that supposed to mean?’

Donnie just shook his head.

“Don’t feel like talking, huh? That’s cool.” The box turtle held up the stack of comics he held. “You ever heard of Jupiter Jim?”

He shook his head again.

“Do you want to?”

He shrugged.

Mikey grinned. “Oh, just wait,” he said eagerly, hopping to his bedside. “You’re gonna love it!” He rested a hand on the mattress, then paused and pulled back. “Can I sit on the bed with you?”

Donnie chewed his lip thoughtfully. Usually he tried to avoid physical contact. With Draxum, touch usually meant hurt . Even little pats on the shoulder were almost always undercut by some sort of anger or threat. Recently, though, he found that had been changing. When Mikey had hugged him the other day, he’d been disappointed when he’d pulled away. Leo’s head-bump had been comforting. Even Raph, with as much as Donnie had feared him, had been nothing but gentle. Maybe all touch didn’t have to hurt. Maybe he wouldn’t mind some company.

Donnie nodded. Mikey grinned and snatched one of the blankets sitting on a beanbag and clambered onto the mattress. He settled down next to Donnie and snuggled against him, tucking his head against his shoulder. Donnie stiffened slightly. This wasn’t what he had pictured. And yet, he didn’t hate it.

“Okay, so, this is Jupiter Jim,” Mikey explained, holding up the comic so they could both see the pictures. “He’s a space explorer, right? And then this is Atomic Lass, she’s an alien supergenius made from a supernova.”

Donnie nodded occasionally as Mikey prattled on. Leo reappeared after a few minutes to return the warm plush before disappearing with a distracted mutter about returning soon. Mikey continued with the story. It was very interesting, intricate, and Donnie enjoyed it. He wanted to hear more. After a bit, he found himself too tired to even nod to show he was listening, but Mikey didn’t seem to mind. So, Donnie just rested his head against his and listened. He didn’t need to do anything else. That was all he asked of him.

“Raph!”

Raph groaned and ran a hand down his face. So close to escaping. “Yeah, Leo?”

Leo jogged after him down the sewer tunnel just outside the lair. “Where’re you going?”

He gestured vaguely to the sewers. “Just. . . checking.”

Leo’s face scrunched up. “For what?”

Raph crossed his arms and looked away. “Just, what Dad said the other day,” he mumbled, “about Draxum looking for Donnie - for us - I just want to make sure everything’s clear.”

“You sure that’s a good idea”’ Leo pressed, resting his hands on his hips as he frowned intently at him. “You look exhausted. Did you even sleep last night?”

Rap scowled. “None of us are sleeping, Leo,” he muttered. “Even Mikey was up and down all night working on the other thing.”

“Yeah, but he’s resting now, ” Leo huffed, rolling his eyes, “rather than trying to patrol the tunnels.”

“I just think it’s a good idea to check,” Raph hissed.

There was a pause. Leo crossed his arms with a frown. “You’re avoiding him.”

Raph glared. “I am not!”

“Am so.”

“That’s not - no I’m not!”

“C’mon, I know you saw me trying to wave you over,” Leo pressed. “Raph, what’s going on?”

“Nothing!” he snapped, throwing his hands in the air. He wasn’t fully lying. As much as he believed that rescuing Donnie had been the right thing, he hadn’t even considered that Draxum would try to track him down. Ever since Splinter had mentioned it, he hadn’t been able to get the idea out of his head. He’d spent the whole night before, after leaving Donnie, circling through the sewer tunnels, listening for any odd noises, any fluttering of gargoyle wings or click of hooves. He hated the thought of those vines tearing the lair apart, hurting his brothers, dragging Donnie away into the darkness while Raph was useless to help - again. He couldn’t let that happen again. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Donnie in that shipyard. He saw the terror in his eyes, the only thing visible above those vines as Draxum squeezed the life out of him like some sadistic boa constrictor.

The same terror that had been in his eyes when he’d looked at Raph.

He shook the thought away and rubbed his tired eyes. “I’m just doing some basic patrolling,” he said sharply. “I just want to make sure we’re safe. Donnie needs to feel safe, that’s what’s important.” 

Leo’s gaze softened. “Raph, is this about last night?” he murmured. 

Raph just grit his teeth. He couldn’t bring himself to answer.

“What happened last night?”

They both looked up to see April walking towards them, a plastic bag with the logo of a nearby drugstore in one hand, and a pair of crutches hefted awkwardly on the other shoulder.

“Where did you get these?” Leo asked in surprise, taking the crutches from her.

She waved her hand vaguely. “Swiped ‘em from school when I hurt my ankle a few months ago.” She tucked her free hand in her pocket and eyed Raph. “What happened last night? Is everyone okay?”

Raph bit his lip and looked away as Leo briefly recounted the story to her.

“Everyone’s fine,” Leo finished firmly. “Donnie was just jumpy, is all.”

Raph grit his teeth as heat flared in his face. He couldn’t stand the way he made it sound, like he’d just startled him after rounding a corner too fast. Leo hadn’t seen the way Donnie had flinched, hadn’t heard the desperation in his voice. 

“I scared him, Leo!” Raph snapped. He dug his fingers into his arms and squeezed his eyes shut. “I - I scared him so bad. He was - he’s terrified.”

“Oh, Raph,” April murmured, resting a hand on his arm. 

“He’s scared of me,” he whispered, shaking his head. “I can’t be around him. I’ll only scare him.”

“Raph, I’m sure he’s not afraid of you,” April assured him. “It sounds like he would’ve reacted the same to any of us in the mom1ent.”

Raph just shook his head again. They didn’t understand. They hadn’t seen. They hadn’t seen the way he’d looked at him, warily watching Raph’s every move until he’d dropped the plate, and the pure horror in his eyes after. They hadn’t seen the way he’d gone limp, hyperventilating, shaking, when Raph tried to keep him from hurting himself after he’d jumped up. They hadn’t seen the way he’d flinched away, shielding himself as though he thought Raph would. . . like he’d actually. . . 

“He thought I was gonna hit him,” he whispered. He heard his voice crack, felt tears running down his nose, and wiped his eyes aggressively. “God, April, he thought I was gonna hit him for dropping some stupid toast.”

April wrapped her arms around him as well as she could, resting her head on his shoulder. Leo leaned the crutches against the wall and joined her. Raph couldn’t bring himself to reciprocate. He just pressed the back of his hand against his eyes and desperately willed himself to stop crying. It didn’t work. He hated it. Hated how Draxum had hurt him, hated that Donnie feared Raph like he’d feared him, hated whatever it was Donnie saw in him that reminded him of that monster. He didn’t know what it was about him, what he’d done or said that had drawn a similarity, but he hated whatever it was.

“Raph, we knew he’d be a little messed up,” April reminded him. “He’s just come from a lifetime of being hurt for stuff like that, and now he’s surrounded by people he hardly knows. This has got to be scary.”

“Yeah,” Leo insisted, stepping back from the hug. “I really don’t think he’s scared of you, I think he’s just. . . scared. Especially if you really did hear him crying in the bathroom last night, like you thought. He was probably just stressed and confused. I don’t think it was you specifically.” He patted Raph’s arm and smiled encouragingly. “That’s why we all need to hang out with him now, so he can learn that we’re all safe.”

“Right,” April agreed, stepping back and crossing her arms. “If you try to avoid him now, he’ll probably just think that you’re mad at him or something.”

Raph cringed. That was definitely the last thing he wanted.

“Raph, we know that you won’t hurt Donnie,” Leo pointed out, hefting up the crutches again. “You know that you won’t hurt him. He just needs a little more time to catch on.” He held out a hand. “C’mon. If he gets upset or nervous, you can give him some space.”

Raph sighed and nodded. “Yeah,” he mumbled, swiping a hand across his eyes one more time. “Yeah, okay.”

April smiled encouragingly at him and patted his arm one more time as they began the short walk back. “Leo, I got those meds you wanted,” she said, holding up the bag. “Some fever meds, painkillers, antibiotics. Was there anything else?” 

“That sounds about right,” Leo replied, glancing into the bag. “I’ll let you know if I think of anything else. How much was it?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about the money,” she assured him. “I got it covered.”

Raph frowned. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I got a new job at that record store,” she replied with a grin, “and it pays pretty well!”

“What happened to the movie theater?” Leo cried in dismay.

“Didn’t work out,” she shrugged airily. “But I’ll tell you, it was a great learning experience!”

“Oh, yeah?” Leo grinned. “What’d you learn?”

“That there’s at least three ways to blow up a popcorn machine.”

The three of them laughed as they made their way back into the lair. Leo slung an arm over her shoulders.

“God, I love you,” he muttered. 

“Yeah, love you too, nerd,” she teased, shrugging him off. He stuck out his tongue and slipped into the medbay. Raph could hear Mieky talking brightly from inside, then he and Leo laughing. It sounded like they were having a good time. Raph didn’t want to ruin that.

He rested a heavy hand on April’s shoulder. She paused and looked back at him with a frown.

“Something wrong?”

“No.” He paused. “I mean, yeah, but. . . thanks.” He smiled shakily. “Thanks for everything, April.”

Her gaze softened, and she smiled, hugging him again. “I’m glad you’re my brother, Raphael,” she whispered.

He felt tears welling in his eyes, and he hugged her as tightly as he could without hurting her. “I’m glad you’re my sister, April O’Neil.”

She pulled away and nodded to the medbay. “Now let’s go make sure this guy knows how lucky he is to be part of the best family in the world.”

Raph nodded nervously and followed her in.

Leo was already lounging in his beanbag. The crutches had been deposited against the wall by the cot. Donnie was bundled up like a caterpillar, buried up to his nose in blankets. Mikey was snuggled next to him, flipping through his comics. They both looked up at Raph and April’s arrival.

“Hey, guys!” April greeted, setting the bag on a counter. “How’s everyone doing?”

“Great!” Mikey chirped, waving his comic. “You’re just in time for the good part!”

Donnie met Raph’s eye and quickly looked away. His brow furrowed and his eyes crinkled, but with the rest of his face hidden, it was hard to tell if the look was apologetic or fearful.

Raph waved hesitantly and settled into a free beanbag.

“See,” Mikey continued, “and then Jupiter Jim finally confronts this guy, Polonium Porter.” Donnie shifted and made a vague noise that Raph could barely hear. Mikey laughed. “Yeah, the name’s kinda dumb,” he agreed. “But it turns out she was the mastermind behind everything, not Venus Vic!” Another noise, and Mikey nodded. “Yeah, she was the informant Vic mentioned! Good catch.”

Leo, Raph, and April shared a bemused look. Raph could hardly even hear the vague sounds that Donnie was making, but Mikey seemed to understand as though they were full sentences. It was almost uncanny.

“So, then Jim goes,” Mikey dropped his voice to a low rumble as he continued, “‘Ah, Polonium Porter! Or should I call you -’”

“Ugh, your Jupiter Jim impression still sucks,” Leo groaned, pushing himself to his feet. “There’s more bravado to it, like -” He straightened up and struck a dramatic pose, pointing at an imaginary enemy in front of him. “‘Or should I call you, The Gamma Ray!’”

Mikey looked annoyed, but nodded. “Alright, fine,” he muttered, “you do it better.”

Donnie hummed, and Mikey grinned at him.

“Yeah, I do a better Venus Vic, and we all know he’s the real hero!”

Donnie squinted and hummed again.

“Atomic Lass? Really?” Mikey flipped through the comics and shrugged. “I mean, yeah, she’s pretty cool. I guess she did save them from that star whale, didn’t she? Anyways,” he turned back to his previous spot. “Then Polonium Porter turns around and goes, ‘So you’ve finally solved my little game, Jupiter Jim!’”

“You’re Porter also needs work,” April scoffed as she stood. She rounded to stand in front of Leo. “She’s more like,” she pointed at Leo with a grin. “‘You’ve finally solved my game!’”

Mikey scowled and tossed his comic at her. “Fine, if you guys just want to read it,” he grumbled, snuggling deeper into his blankets and closer to Donnie. 

“Don’t mind if I do!” Leo chirped, scooping up the comic from the end of the bed. He held it in front of him and pointed a finger gun at April. “You’re surrounded, Gamma! Surrender before it’s too late.” He tossed her the comic. 

She caught it easily and continued reading. Mikey laughed loudly, and, if Raph wasn’t mistaken, Donnie seemed to be laughing too. April flounced her hair and shrugged. “Why, Jim, I thought we’d given up this whole charade! We all know who really holds the firepower here.” She froze, then turned and hurled the comic book at Raph.

He yelped in surprise as it smacked his face. “What the hell!” he cried, rubbing his nose. “April!”

“Sorry!” she squeaked, pressing a hand over her mouth to hide a giggle. “I didn’t realize there was another guy!” The others cackled at the sight, Leo doubled over with his hands on his knees to keep himself upright as he laughed. 

This time, there was no mistaking it. Donnie was laughing too. Fully, really laughing. He pulled the blankets up a little further over his face, as though trying to hide it, but he didn’t seem quite as scared anymore. The sound made Raph’s chest warm. He glanced at his siblings, and he knew they all felt the same thing. They’d make him laugh as much as they could. He probably hadn’t gotten enough of that.

Raph stood and cleared his throat, holding the comic in front of him. “Delta squad, ready to fire on your command, ma’am!” he droned.

Leo gasped dramatically, snatching the book back. “Why, Nova Nix? My old partner? You’ve betrayed me!” He scooped up a box of bandaids from the counter next to him and pointed them threateningly at Raph. “You’ve gone too far, I can’t forgive you for this!”

“I’ve got no choice, Jim,” Raph sighed forlornly.

April caught the book. “Yes, Jup– oh, shoot, I’m over here now,” she hissed, ducking past the others to stand behind Raph. “When did I move over here?”

“Three panels ago, April, keep up,” Leo groaned with an exaggerated eye roll, snapping his fingers.

“Not my fault you only have one copy!” she defended. “Anyways - Yes, Jupiter Jim, I think you’ll find I’m very persuasive.”

Leo gasped. “The mind control chips!”

Mikey and Donnie both gasped in horror, Donnie’s eyes widening.

“Now you’ll learn not to cross me again!” April crowed, pressing an imaginary button in her hand. Raph groaned and flopped to the ground.

“Nova!” Leo shrieked, falling to his knees. “Nova Nix, no!”

Raph gasped. “Tell. . . my wife. . . I love her,” he whispered, then flopped back dramatically.

“What wife?!”

Donnie laughed again. Raph and Leo both grinned proudly.

Leo stood. “You’ll pay for this, Polonium Porter!” he cried, whirling around. “You’ll answer for your -” He gasped. “What, where’d she go? She’s vanished!”

“Oh, shit,” April muttered, ducking behind a beanbag. Mikey and Donnie giggled, and Raph had to fight a laugh from the floor.

“J-Just gone without a trace!” Leo cried, clearly fighting to suppress his own amusement. “I’ll find you, Polonium Porter, or my name isn’t Jupiter Jim!”

Mikey cheered and clapped. “Bravo!” he crowed. Donnie nodded enthusiastically. Though the blankets still covered most of his face, he was definitely smiling.

Leo dragged Raph to his feet. April reappeared from her hiding spot, and all three of them took a bow.

“Told you you’d love it,” Mikey grinned at Donnie.

“There are movies, too,” Leo added. “Though the acting isn’t quite on that level, so don’t get your hopes too high.” 

Donnie nodded again, but his eyes seemed to be drooping.

Raph caught Leo’s eye and nodded to Donnie. The slider caught on immediately and nodded.

“Hey, Don,” he said quietly, stepping forward. “I know you’re tired. You can sleep in a sec. I just need to take your temperature one more time, alright?”

Donnie nodded. Leo picked up the thermometer, and Donnie pulled the blankets from his face and opened his mouth, holding it tightly between his teeth when Leo handed it to him. Leo turned to the bag April had brought and began sorting through the supplies. He turned back with a few pills in hand and took the thermometer. He squinted at the numbers and frowned.

“Alright, just take these,” he instructed, holding out the pills. “Then you can sleep. Promise.”

Donnie sighed, but sat up with Mikey’s help. After he managed to take the meds, he laid back down. He glanced at Raph through half-closed eyes. “Raph?” he murmured, voice gravelly.

Raph sat up in surprise. “Yeah, Donnie?”

“‘M sorry ‘bout last night,” he mumbled. “Didn’t mean to make you upset.”

Raph felt tears welling in his eyes, chest tightening, yet again, but he smiled. “It’s okay, Donnie,” he assured him quietly. “I promise.”

Donnie nodded and turned back to his previous position, slumped against Mikey. Within seconds, his breathing was slow and steady. Mikey snuggled against him, and before long, he was asleep as well.

Raph smiled and sat back in his beanbag. April patted his arm before flipping open a school book and leaning back with a sigh. 

“Both of you, get some rest,” she instructed firmly. “I can keep watch for a little while.”

Leo shrugged, returning from the sink with the washcloth and bowl again. “I can -”

“That was not a suggestion, Leonardo,” she drawled, raising her eyebrows at him. “Get some sleep before I knock you out myself.”

Leo pouted, but he didn’t argue anymore. He made his way to the pile of beanbags and collapsed next to Raph, leaning against his shoulder. Raph wrapped an arm around him and closed his eyes. He heard April shifting. She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, and he heard her do the same for Leo. When he opened his eyes, she was seated in the chair next to Donnie, cool cloth in one hand, textbook on her lap.

“Thanks, April,” Raph murmured.

She looked back and smiled at him.

They’d be okay.

Chapter Text

Leo leaned against the wall outside the medbay, frowning at his phone as he texted April. She’d texted a few minutes ago to tell him she was coming over early, after a big fight with her parents. He’d slipped out to keep in touch with her as she walked. He knew they’d been butting heads a lot lately, plus with her having such a hard time at school - both in classes and making friends - well, she needed someone to vent to.

OhNoONeil: It’s like, I try so hard, y’know? ‘Oh, if you applied yourself’ and I AM!! Do they know how hard I’m trying here?! And they don’t even know about you guys, and Donnie, so sure maybe it looks like I’m being lazy because they don’t know all that I’m doing with you but I swear I’m at the end of my rope!!!! Would it KILL them to trust me a little??!!

NeonLeon: smthn tells me that even if they knew about us that wouldnt make them feel better lol

OhNoONeil: My buddy my bro my bestest bud my player two I know you are trying to be funny but I am in legitimate emotional distress rn

NeonLeon: sry

Anyways, Donnie appreciated the time alone. Leo knew that, even if he never explicitly said it. His condition had improved in the past few days, so Leo was trying to leave him alone for longer periods to demonstrate that they trusted him. Of course, he stuck close by, within earshot of the medbay in case something happened. Still, Donnie seemed to enjoy the time alone to read the stacks of books April delivered.

Leo looked up as Splinter shuffled by, then scowled and returned his attention to his phone. They hadn’t spoken much since the fight.

Splinter stopped walking and cleared his throat. “Blue.”

“Father.” He very pointedly did not look up.

A beat. “How is he?”

Leo relaxed a little, but still didn’t look up from skimming the paragraphs that April was typing out with remarkable haste. He tilted his head vaguely towards the curtain. “Getting better. Still got a fever, but not as bad.”

 “Good,” Splinter murmured distractedly. “Good, that’s good to hear.” He paused, then cleared his throat again. “Could I. . . speak with him?” 

Leo frowned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He tapped on the screen. Annoyingly, Splinter didn’t leave.

“I’d like to speak with him,” he insisted firmly.

“And I’d like a head of luscious blond hair,” Leo said with a deadpan smile at his father. “But, y’know.”

“I could do without the attitude.”

“I’ve got a whole list of things I could do without. Are we comparing?”

Splinter rolled his eyes. “Leonardo, please. I just want to -”

“Yeah, I know what you want,” Leo interrupted sharply. “Only problem is, I don’t see any way it’ll play out well.” He tilted his head to the room behind him. “Either you’re going to interrogate him about Draxum which, no, or you’re going to insinuate that he’s putting us in danger which, no, or you’ll just stress him out or threaten him or something, which -”

“I get the message,” Splinter muttered. “I don’t appreciate the disrespect.”

Something shifted in the medbay. Leo didn’t pay it any mind. “You’re not talking to him,” he repeated firmly.

Splinter pinched the bridge of his nose. “You cannot keep us separated forever,” he added. “Eventually, he and I are going to need to talk.”

“Yeah, well,” Leo muttered, “it can wait until he’s not jumping at every little noise and running a fever of 103.”

Splinter frowned at him. Leo finally met his gaze, steady, challengingly. He wasn’t going to get to Donnie, to say to him the awful things he’d said to them. Leo wouldn’t let him. 

Eventually, Splinter dropped his gaze with a sigh and trudged on to the TV room.

Leo glared after him. Back to his stupid shows in front of his stupid TV, which were apparently so much more important than keeping their family safe. Leo shook his head and tucked his phone away after a confirmation from April that she was safe in the sewers and would be there shortly. He took a deep breath and plastered a smile to his face, sweeping the curtain aside and striding into the medbay.

“Hey!” he chirped cheerfully. “You still up?”

Donnie was sitting up in his cot. The book he’d been reading when Leo had stepped out sat abandoned on his lap. Instead, his hands twisted the blanket in front of him, and his eyes were fixed anxiously on Leo’s. 

“Did I get you in trouble?”

Leo paused. “Huh?”

Donnie nodded to the curtain, dropping his gaze. “I overheard,” he mumbled. “I - if you’re in trouble, because of me, I didn’t -”

“Hey,” Leo interrupted, perching on the edge of Donnie’s cot. “Don’t worry about it. Believe me, it’s nothing. Just Dad being a little grumpy about having his feng shui upset.” He grinned at Donnie. “You know rats, always so pesty!”

Donnie’s face dropped from concern to an unimpressed frown.

Leo’s grin widened at the reaction. As long as he was distracted, he’d accomplished his goal. “What’re you working on there?”

“Hm?” Donnie glanced at the assortment of paper on the nightstand beside him. “Oh, just some, uh, designs I want to build.” He handed them to Leo. “Mikey always wants to draw, so I started sketching some out.”

Leo flipped through the drawings and raised his eyebrows in surprise. Drones, cameras, weapons, all with very detailed notes. It was impressive. At the bottom of the stack was a design for a new battle shell. That was. . . a bit concerning, but could be addressed another time. Donnie shifted uncomfortably when he got to that, his eye flickering nervously at the ruined armor still sitting in the corner of the medbay. Raph had tried to get rid of it, but Donnie had gotten so distressed that he’d agreed to leave it.

Leo handed the sketches back. “Man, maybe you should’ve been named after DaVinci. He was the inventor!”

“Mhm.” Donnie glanced out the doorway. “Do you know what he wanted to talk about?”

So much for distractions. Leo deflated and shrugged. “I dunno, dude, honestly. He’s just a little weird right now.”

“Because of me.”

He hesitated. “Because of us, going to get you.”

“So, yes, because of me.”

“Indirectly!”

“That’s hardly relevant.”

He sighed and tugged at the hem of his mask. “Dad’s not mad at you ,” he said slowly.

Donnie frowned. “But he is mad.”

Leo shook his head. “You don’t need to worry about it,” he assured him. “And you do not need to talk to him if you don’t feel up to it.”

Donnie scratched at the bandages on his arms. “Would that make him less mad?”

Leo chewed on his lip thoughtfully and looked away. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “And anyways, that’s not your responsibility. You don’t need to worry about regulating his emotions for him. He’s an adult, he can do that himself.”

Donnie glanced at him briefly before looking back at his sketches. He ran his fingers over the battle shell design. The graphite blurred under his touch.

Leo frowned and leaned back. “Did you have to do that with Draxum?” he ventured slowly. “Try to field his emotions?”

Donnie shrugged. “Mas - um, Draxum, he was. . . unpredictable.” He set the drawings aside and picked up the heating plush, tugging at the ears. “I could never tell what was going to change from one moment to the next. His emotions fluctuated constantly. One second he’d be happy and laughing, and the next he was yelling at me for something that seemed too small to matter.” He leaned forward, wrapping his arms loosely around the plush. “I always had to be on guard,” he mumbled. “Even if I was safe, I wasn’t. Everything could change in a split-second and I never even knew why.”

Leo felt his eyes welling up with tears as he continued talking. When he finished, he reached out and took his hand, squeezing firmly. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he vowed with a smile. “One thing about Dad, he wears his heart on his sleeve. Once he feels something, he’ll be stuck in that for a while.”

Donnie met his eye and nodded slowly. He forced a shaky smile, but didn’t reply.

“Hey, guys!” Raph called cheerfully as he plodded inside.

Donnie straightened up and quickly wiped his eyes. “Hey.”

Leo scrubbed at his face and looked up at Raph. “Is April here yet?”

Raph nodded back to the doorway with a sympathetic smile. “She was kinda teary when she came in, so Mikey snatched her up for a Doctor Feelings talk before I could even say hi.”

Leo snorted.

Donnie frowned. “Who’s Doctor Feelings?”

“It’s a whole thing,” Leo said dismissively, waving his hand. “Don’t worry, you’ll probably meet him soon enough.” He looked back at Raph. “How’s the other thing going?”

“Great!” Raph replied brightly. “It should be finished in no time!”

Donnie grimaced. “Really wish you’d tell me what that is,” he muttered.

“Don’t worry about it,” Leo yawned, leaning back against his legs. Raph sat in the chair by the bed and produced his tablet, already loaded with another Lou Jitsu movie. Donnie shuffled closer to him so they could both watch more easily.

Leo tugged out his phone and texted April to see if she needed a rescue. She declined. He smiled.

“Steady. . .”

“I am perfectly steady, Leonardo.”

“Easy, steady.”

“Stop saying ‘steady’!”

Leo made a face at Donnie. “Well, forgive me for wanting to make sure my brother isn’t going to fall and crack his head open!”

“Saying ‘steady’ over and over isn’t going to make me any more so,” Donnie muttered, readjusting the crutches under him as he attempted again to stand from the bed. “Anyways, I’ve used crutches before.”

“You’ve been bedridden for a week,” Leo reminded him. “It’s not about whether you know how to use them, it’s about whether you’re going to pass out if you stand up too fast - again.”

“I didn’t pass out , I fell over, there’s a difference.”

Leo shook his head. “I’ve gotta get my hands on some iron supplements,” he muttered.

“You’ve got this, Donnie,” Mikey encouraged from the doorway, smiling hopefully. “Don’t push yourself too hard. Just take it at your own pace.”

“I am,” Donnie huffed, pushing himself to his feet. “Believe me, I’m much more invested in getting myself out of this bed than you are, I’m not going to push myself and get another week of bedrest.”

“Fine,” Leo said tersely, stepping away, though he still remained close enough to catch him if he fell. Secretly, Donnie appreciated it.

He returned his focus to the crutches, readjusting them under his weight before he shifted them forward and stepped after. His head did feel a little fuzzy, but he was determined to at least make it out of the medbay today. Leo had suggested that he just try to circle the room at first and see how he was feeling after, but Donnie was tired of the same view.

“Does that height feel okay?” Leo checked, following his movement. “Is it too short? Or too tall?”

“It’s good,” Donnie replied. He attempted to circle around the bed, but the crutches were awkward in the cramped quarters. He growled in frustration.

Leo nodded approvingly. “Alright, then,” he said slowly, “you ready to try walking around the lair a bit?”

“Very ready,” Donnie agreed with a relieved smile.

Mikey clapped his hands, clearly delighted. “Can we show him the other thing?” he prodded hopefully.

Leo shrugged. “If Raph and April have finished it, then I guess so.”

Mikey cheered and ducked from the room, calling for his older brother and sister.

Donnie glanced nervously at Leo. “Any chance you could tell me what this ‘other thing’ I’ve been hearing about all week is now?”

“We already told you,” Leo chided, “it’s a surprise!”

“And I told you that I don’t like surprises,” Donnie retorted as he carefully maneuvered the crutches around the cot.

“You’ll like this one.”

“It’s not the contents of the surprise that’s a problem, it’s the fact that it is a surprise that makes it disconcerting.”

Leo frowned. He opened his mouth to answer, but before he could speak, the curtain was tossed aside again and Mikey burst in.

“Tour time!” he sang, leading Donnie out to the atrium. “C’mon, the other thing awaits at the end!”

Donnie frowned, chewing his lip. The cut from before had never quite healed with how much he’d been biting it, and he tasted blood yet again. He was sure that this surprise was nothing harmful - he was beginning to learn that most words had very different definitions here than with Draxum - but not knowing what they were about to spring on him made him very nervous. 

He glanced helplessly back at Leo, who shrugged.

“You’ll see it soon enough,” he reasoned. “Come on.”

Donnie scowled, but followed the two of them out of the medbay. He blinked and squinted in the sudden change of light, bright sunlight flooding down from a window in the ceiling. He squinted up at the opening. “How do you keep that hidden from the surface?”

“We just set up some junk around it,” Mikey explained. “And it’s tinted, so people can’t see if they look down, anyways.”

“Huh.” He lowered his gaze and raised his eyebrows. “What is that? ”

“Skate ramp!” Mikey cheered, throwing his arms up triumphantly. “Can you skate?”

“Can’t say I’ve ever tried. . .”

Leo nudged his arm. “You’ll love it,” he assured him. “As soon as that knee heals up, we’ll get right on that. It’s a bit of a staple in our household.”

“Hey, Don!” April called from a doorway on the first floor. She wiped her brow and grinned at him. “It’s good to see you up and about.” Raph appeared behind her and waved.

“Good to be up,” Donnie agreed with a smile.

Mikey leaned over the ledge. “Is the other thing done yet?”

April nodded to the doorway the two of them stood in. “Just finished!”

“Perfect! Alright,” Mikey began leading Donnie to the side. “Over here is the game room, gym, then the dojo up here.” 

Donnie peered into each doorway as they passed and nodded at each as Mikey prattled on. Leo chipped in with his input occasionally.

“Most of our rooms are on the first floor,” Mikey explained, pointing downwards.

Donnie followed his gaze, then tensed. 

Splinter stood in one of the doorways. His eyes were fixed on Donnie, though it was hard to read his expression from so far away. Donnie felt queasy under the intense stare, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. To do so felt like admitting weakness, or yielding in some game he wasn’t aware of. Splinter didn’t look particularly aggressive, but he couldn’t take any chances.

His brothers wouldn’t hurt him. They wanted him to be safe and okay. He had no clue where Splinter fell in that dynamic. 

Donnie felt something shifting at his shoulder and looked over to see Leo, glaring at the rat with a fierce venom. Mikey, on his other side, crossed his arms and frowned at Splinter. Even Raph and April, on the first level, looked tense. They seemed wary, like they couldn’t predict his next move. Donnie shuffled back, his hands gripping the handles of the crutches so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Leo shifted to the side a bit, placing himself between him and Splinter.

Splinter opened his mouth, closed it, then hung his head with a sigh and shuffled back into the dark doorway from which he’d come.

Mikey cleared his throat. “That, uh, that’s the TV room” he explained. He cleared his throat again, and a brighter tone returned to his voice. “Next to it is the kitchen! That’s where I usually hang out.” He nudged him towards one of the many ladders around the room. “C’mon, let’s head down.”

It was a bit of a fiasco getting Donnie down the ladder to the first floor. Raph worried that he wasn’t well enough to try climbing up and down the short ladders, Leo suggested that Donnie be the judge of his own abilities, and Mikey was insistent that he needed to see the ‘other thing’ on the first floor. While they argued, Donnie passed his crutches to Mikey and clambered awkwardly down the ladder. The other three didn’t notice. April grinned at him as he landed on the first floor and leaned against the wall. He waved and returned his attention to the other three arguing.

April plodded to his side and leaned against the wall next to him. “So, you liking those books I brought?” she chirped. “Raph says you’re getting through about two a day.”

Donnie nodded. “Very much,” he agreed brightly. “Thank you!”

She grinned. “I’ll bring you over a new shipment tomorrow,” she offered. “Any in particular you want to read more on?”

Donnie hummed thoughtfully. “The one on AI systems was especially interesting, although I am enjoying reading about hydraulics and mechanical assembly, as well.”

April shrugged. “No idea what that means, but sure thing!”

They continued chatting for a couple minutes until Mikey realized he was holding the crutches and all three of them noticed Donnie on the first floor. Leo and Mikey laughed, and Raph fretted that he shouldn’t wear himself out.

“I’m fine, ” Donnie insisted, taking the crutches as Mikey passed them through the gap in the floor and fitting them under his arms again. “Honestly, I can handle walking around for a few minutes.”

Raph frowned. “Well, if you’re sure. . .”

“Come on!” Mikey called, snagging Donnie’s arm and leading him forward again. “Here’s my room.” He swept a curtain aside to reveal a cluttered room with a hammock in lieu of a bed. Markers, pens, and paints littered the rug and desk. An assortment of spray cans were lined on the shelves, apparently the only organized thing in the room, along with various figurines and a CD player. Posters, both homemade and professional, were plastered over the graffiti-covered walls. Most of the light seemed to come from a lava lamp and an assortment of glow-in-the-dark moons and stars, along with a neon sign that looked like it had been stolen from a restaurant. Donnie felt a little dizzy at the sight. 

Mikey pulled him away again. “This is Raph’s.”

This room was a bit tidier, but most of the space was taken up by the massive bed. Piles of teddy bears and plushies were piled on the bed itself, almost covering the whole thing. A set of weights were lined on Raph’s bookshelf, and a vast collection of Jupiter Jim comics was neatly sorted on the shelves underneath. His desk was very messy. He clearly didn’t use it much. Jupiter Jim and Lou Jitsu posters papered his walls, much like Mikey’s, although Raph’s were accompanied by somebody called Ghost Bear. Donnie couldn’t deduce his significance from the posters, though they looked like the merchandise he’d seen for the Battle Nexus champions in the Hidden City. The similarity made him feel a little nauseous.

Again, Mikey let the curtain swing shut and dragged Donnie to the next room. “Here’s Leo’s.”

This one seemed much nicer than the others, somehow, though the grandeur lay more in the structure of the room than the disarrayed contents. The posters and figurines likened it immediately to the other two rooms. Like the other two, Jupiter Jim and Lou Jitsu posters were plastered over the walls. A large rug covered the floor, though it was hardly visible with the piles of dirty clothes and comic books littering the space. A couple teddy bears were tangled in the mussed blankets on the bed, and an electric guitar leaned against the wall. On top of the bookshelf, a row of pristine plants sat. They almost looked out of place, so big and green in the mess of the rest of the room. The clutter made Donnie’s skin crawl. 

“And. . .” Mikey drawled, pulling him to another doorway. “Can I get some fanfare!”

Leo cupped his hands over his mouth and imitated a triumphant trumpeting tune. 

“The other thing!” Mikey crowed, taking hold of the curtain.

Donnie cringed and leaned away. “You know, I don’t know if I should -”

Too late. Mikey flung the curtain aside triumphantly. “Your room!”

Donnie blinked. “What?”

“Well, we figured you couldn’t stay in the medbay forever,” Raph pointed out with a proud smile.

“It was Raph’s idea,” Leo added. “He gets credit for this.”

Donnie stared in, then turned to look at the others. “Could I. . .?”

“Of course!” April encouraged, taking his arm to lead him in. “It’s yours!”

Donnie stepped into the room and looked around in amazement. There were a couple Jupiter Jim posters on the wall, and one of Atomic Lass, who had quickly become his favorite character in the franchise. Graffiti and some homemade posters, all clearly in Mikey’s wild and dynamic style, adorned the walls. The lighting was soft and calming, emanating from a lamp shaped like a glowing moon and a lava lamp on his nightstand. His bookshelf was already full of comics and books on science and technology. He ran his hand over the thick spines of the books, skimming the titles. His attention drifted to the huge desk in the corner. It was already adorned with a shelf of tools, along with piles of scrap parts. 

He picked up an old motor and turned it over in wonder. “What’s all this?” His voice sounded far away, shocked.

“You kept drawing tech designs when we drew together,” Mikey reminded him, bouncing excitedly, “and you always write notes on them!”

“So April and I ventured up to the junkyard nearby,” Leo explained, slinging his arm around her shoulders. “Thought we could  get you set up with some of the stuff you needed for all that cool jazz!”

Donnie set down the motor and turned to the bed. A big, comfy-looking bed, with a purple bedspread and a couple other blankets folded at the foot. A few plush toys - a cat and a bear and a frog - sat on the pillows, set up with their arms around each other as though they were posing for a photo. 

“The plushies were donated by Raph,” Leo added. “Mikey did the art - of course - and April got you the books, but the posters were from me.” He grinned and pointed to a full-length mirror on the wall. “And the mirror,” he added. “So you can do your weird eyebrows.” April elbowed him sharply.

Donnie turned in a slow circle, taking in every detail. Every item in that room, from the comic books to the little box of screws on his desk to the purple rug on the floor, came from someone who cared about him, because they cared about him. Love was woven into the very walls of the room. It was his because they made it his, because they had decided he deserved it, because they wanted him to have his own room. Not just his own room, a room full of comforting and fun and interesting things.

It all felt so big. It felt bigger than he could process, bigger than he could understand.

Bigger than he deserved.

He shook his head. Baron Draxum was wrong. Keeping him in that tiny, empty cell, with nothing of his own, that was wrong. This was good. This was okay. He deserved this.

Donnie chewed on his lip, his eyes dewey. He wanted to voice his thanks, but it felt too big to say, as big as the room, too big to fit in his words.

Raph rescued him from the silence. “So. . . do you like it?” he asked hopefully.

Donnie turned back to the assembled group with a wide smile. “Yeah.” His voice was small, but he hoped they could hear how much he appreciated it. He’d never been good at expressing things. “It’s really great.” He hated that that was all he could say, that he couldn’t properly explain how much the gesture meant to him.

Judging by their faces, they seemed to get the message.

“Told you you’d like it!” Leo crowed, tackling him in a hug. Mikey joined next, then April. Finally, after hesitating for a long moment, Raph gathered all of them up in his own tight embrace. Donnie closed his eyes and snuggled into the embrace.

Safe. Safe in the arms of his family.

Donnie awoke the next morning in his own bed, in his own room, bundled under his own blankets with his own soft plushies in his arms. He buried his face in the fur of the heating plush, which Raph had insisted was now his, but it had long gone cold. No matter. He sighed and rested his chin on his arms, ignoring the way they still dully stung as he reveled in the silence. He could hear people up and talking somewhere in the lair. After a few minutes of listening to the faint laughter and music, he got up and got dressed. 

Before donning his sweater, he stood in front of the mirror and smiled for the umpteenth time at his purple mask. The bruises on his face and arms were finally fading. Even the dark one where Draxum had grabbed him had finally begun shifting from ugly mottled purple and blue to a dull grey. The wounds on his arms had finally stopped bleeding at every little movement, and Leo estimated that they and the ones on his back would be removed very soon. His knee was still a little sore, but he could hobble around his little room well enough. 

Overall, he felt different after the nine days with his brothers. Better. Like a person, not a weapon. Donatello really, really liked who he was. He liked who his siblings were. He liked his new room. He liked a lot, and he was happier than he could ever remember being.

Humming the Jupiter Jim theme to himself, Donnie pulled his sweater on and flipped the hood off his head. He scratched at his bandages absentmindedly before he fitted the crutches under his arms and flicked his curtain aside, stepping from his room.

“Good morning, Purple.”

Donnie jumped. It felt like his stomach leapt to his throat as he whirled around. Splinter stood in the doorway of his own room, looking at Donnie with a strained smile. His eyes were unreadable.

“I’m sorry,” the rat amended. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

“Uh.” Donnie’s crutches skittered back against the concrete. He leaned back against them. “Good morning, S - S. . .” He’d heard the others refer to Splinter by his name, as Dad, and as Sensei. None seemed appropriate. “S. . . ir.” He cast a fervent glance at the kitchen doorway, where light and laughter and his brothers and safety waited. 

Splinter chuckled. Donnie shuddered at the sound. “There is no need for that,” he assured him. “Just Splinter is fine.”

“Ok.” If only one of them would look outside, hear them talking, see them! He wanted to call for one of them but he didn’t dare offend Splinter like that, especially on the chance that they wouldn’t hear him.

“You’ve chosen Donatello as your name, yes?”

“Yes.” God, where were they?

“A fine name.” Splinter stepped forward. Donnie shuffled back. Splinter looked hurt by his reaction and didn’t attempt to move closer. Donnie looked again at the kitchen. His grip tightened on his crutches until his fingertips went numb. If Splinter attacked, could he defend himself? Would they hate him for that? Splinter was completely outside his realm of data. Donnie had nothing on him.

“Donatello,” the rat continued slowly, “I think we should talk.”

No. No, no, no, not that again. Not that living room again, under his Master’s intense gaze, right after being torn to pieces because of his own failure. Turtle felt his breath quickening - no, no, he wasn’t Turtle, what was he? Whatever-he-was felt hazy. Where were they? Who was ‘they’? Who was he hoping for? Who could possibly save him from Draxum-Splinter? 

He knew he wasn’t Turtle but he couldn’t remember what else he was and the lair-lab-medbay-ring swirled around him and the ground was falling out from under him and -

“Donnie?”

That was it! “Yes!” Donnie gasped, delighted at the answer. He turned quickly to the kitchen, where Leo stood in the doorway. He was watching the scene with a piercing gaze, eyes flickering from Donnie to Splinter and back again. 

Donnie cleared his throat. “Yes?” He kept his eyes on Leo, but he was painfully aware of Splinter, just out of his field of view.

“Are you okay?” Leo’s voice was low. It wasn’t an arbitrary question. He was genuinely concerned. Donnie was right to be afraid, it seemed, but he was unharmed for the moment.

He nodded. “Yes.” He glanced halfway towards Splinter, who looked disappointed, deflated as he stepped back. 

Leo hurried forward, arm outstretched. “Here, c’mon.” He wrapped an arm around Donnie’s shoulders and sent a scathing look at his father. Splinter held up his hands in surrender and shuffled to his TV room.

Leo huffed under his breath and turned Donnie towards the kitchen. “Mikey’s making omelets,” he said, forcing a cheerful tone to his voice. “You hungry?”

Donnie nodded faintly, leaning awkwardly against Leo’s shoulder. The entire world seemed so hot, suddenly.  “Thanks,” he mumbled.

Leo patted his back wordlessly as they entered the kitchen. Mikey and Raph were already inside, Raph sitting at the table, Mikey stirring something at the counter with a chef’s hat on. He hummed to himself and flicked the brim of the puffy hat out of his eyes.

Raph smiled distractedly at Donnie, then did a double take. “What happened?” he asked in surprise. Mikey whipped around to see what had prompted the question, his eyes wide with concern.

“Nothing,” Donnie said, waving his hand dismissively as he settled into a chair. “Don’t worry about it.”

Raph turned his questioning gaze to Leo. 

“Dad ambushed him outside,” the slider replied sullenly, collapsing into his own seat. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back with a sigh. Donnie chewed on his lip and scratched at his bandages. His arms felt oddly itchy.

Raph frowned. “So. . . what did he say?”

Donnie shrugged. “Nothing really, he just said he wanted to - to talk.” He shuddered again at the thought. 

“You okay?” Mikey checked, setting down his bowl to walk to his side. He patted Donnie’s shoulder with a worried look. “Dad’s nice, Don. He’s just a little confused right now.”

Donnie shook his head. “Talks with Draxum never ended well,” he muttered. He swiped his hand across his forehead. It seemed so much warmer than in the atrium.

Mikey frowned. Before he could reply, something started sizzling on the stove. He cried out in dismay and rushed to snatch it from the burner. 

Donnie cleared his throat and tapped at the table. “So, is April coming over today?” he ventured, desperately hoping to change the subject.

“I’m here!” April called cheerfully, striding into the kitchen. She hefted a stack of books onto the table and collapsed into an empty seat with a sigh. “Got some more books on AI for ya.”

Donnie grinned and reached for the top of the stack. “Thanks!”

Raph still seemed concerned, but he didn’t pursue the subject any further.

“Donnie, what do you like in your omelet?” Mikey called over his shoulder. “I’ve got bacon, onions, chives, tomatoes, peppers, cheddar cheese, parmesan cheese, mozzarella cheese, some fancy cheese I can’t remember the name of -”

“Gruyere,” Leo interrupted, eyes still closed.

“- Gruyere cheese, havarti cheese.” He paused. “Havarti?” He opened the fridge. “Wait, no havarti, sorry.” 

Donnie chuckled as he flipped the book open. “Just bacon, onions, and cheese, please.”

“What kind of cheese? I’ve got, like, twenty.”

“Uh,” he waved his hand vaguely, already distracted by the book. “The, uh, the first one.”

Mikey nodded. “Cheddar it is!” He continued humming his tune as he busied himself with the meal. “April?”

“I already ate, thanks,” she declined, tugging her homework from her bag. 

After a few minutes, Mikey set the plate at Donnie’s elbow. “It’s hot,” he warned.

Raph stood. “Leo, Mikey,” he said quietly. “Can I talk to you?”

Donnie tensed and glanced at Raph. The snapper smiled reassuringly at him and shook his head. “You just eat,” he said. “We’ll only be a second.” Leo finally opened his eyes and frowned at his older brother in confusion, but he stood and followed him out. Mikey whipped off his hat and dropped it on Donnie’s head.

“Be back in a sec!” the box turtle called cheerfully as Donnie swatted the hat to the table. 

Donnie frowned, but returned his attention to his book. He wiped his forehead again. It was really hot. But he had other things on his mind. 

“I don’t get what the problem is!” Leo snapped, throwing his arms in the air.

“You’ve got to stop being so cagey about Dad around Donnie!” Raph repeated, driving his fist into his open palm to emphasize each word. “He’s already so nervous about him, and when you get all defensive around him, he gets even more worried!”

Leo huffed and kicked at the punching bag swinging from the ceiling of the gym. “You heard all that stuff Dad said last week,” he retorted. “Do you want him to say all that to Donnie’s face?”

“No, but -” Raph rubbed his brow and groaned. “Leo, eventually, they’ll have to hash it out, but Donnie isn’t worried about mean words. He thinks Dad is actually going to hurt him!”

“He knows he won’t,” Leo scoffed, rolling his eyes. “He knows he’s safe here!”

“He knows we’re safe to be around,” Mikey corrected him. He stepped forward and rested a hand on Leo’s shoulder, turning him from the punching bag to face him. Leo scowled and crossed his arms. 

“Try to see it from his perspective,” Mikey explained pleadingly. “He’s come from this authority-slash-father figure that’s hurt him his whole life, right? Now he’s here, with his brothers, and he starts to feel safe around us, but we aren’t authority-slash-father figures. That’s probably why he’s able to trust us so quickly. The only context he has for authority-slash-father figures is fear and mistrust. So he meets Splinter, our authority-slash-father figure, and of course he’s wary of him. Then, when we, the ones who’ve grown up with Splinter, start acting defensive around him, he thinks he’s right to be scared of him!”

Leo looked away hesitantly. When explained like that, it made more sense. Still, he wasn’t giving up so easily. All he wanted was for Donnie to recover, to become the happy and smart person he should’ve been, the person he would’ve been if he hadn’t been left behind. If Splinter got to him, he was certain it would only harm his confidence. Since he’d started getting more comfortable around them, Donnie had become someone else. He was smart, and funny, and nerdy, and witty, and curious, and genuinely cool. It hurt knowing that he was so scared to be that person.

It hurt Leo knowing that, in another universe, he’d been that person his whole life.

Almost as if he heard his thoughts, Raph stepped forward and rested a hand on Leo’s back. “We all know you have good intentions, Leo,” he said quietly. “I know you’re just trying to protect him, but I think Dad needs a chance to say his piece at some point.”

“His piece being that Donnie’s putting us all in danger and that Dad doesn’t think of him as his son,” Leo deadpanned. “Right?”

Raph sighed. “Leo, I get it. I’m still mad about all that, too. But, maybe it’s time for all of us to talk again. He seems pretty remorseful. I think the silent treatment has done its work.”

Leo scowled and shook his head. “Not until he apologizes.”

Mikey shrugged. “The big thing right now is that Donnie needs to know that he’s safe with Dad,” he pointed out. “We don’t need to do anything big, just - let’s try not to get so jumpy around him, okay?” 

Leo sighed and dropped his gaze. He nodded. “Alright, fine.”

Mikey hugged him tightly for a moment. “C’mon,” he called brightly, breezing to the doorway. “I want to show him Road Racers today!”

Raph patted Leo’s shoulder again, and the two of them returned to the kitchen. Donnie was still reading, halfway through the omelet by his side. He squinted at the pages in front of him, tracing along the lines with a finger as he read.

Leo sat down and pulled out his phone. “Whatcha reading, Dontron?”

“Artificial intelligence programming structures.”

“Yawn. What does that entail?”

“There’s several different basic frameworks for programming AI,” Donnie explained, tilting the book towards Leo. “The one with the most success in the Venn diagram structures, but they’re very complex. Simpler ones are things like ladder sequences or archive codes, but they -” He paused and glanced at Leo. “Am I being annoying?”

Leo made a face at him. “I asked, dude. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to hear.” He nudged his arm. “Archive codes. What’s wrong with them?”

“I was just getting to that bit.” He held the book closer to his face and squinted at the page. “‘Archival coding systems present issues in their inefficiency. While Venn diagram and ladder structures build on previous knowledge automatically, archives must take time to sift through previously obtained information to find one relevant to the current situation. As such, while more easily programmed, they are much more limited.’ Huh.” He set the book down. “Cool.”

Leo thought it all sounded phenomenally boring, but Donnie definitely seemed excited about it.

April looked up and tilted her head at Donnie, frowning at him for a moment. “Hey, Don,” she said. “Can you do me a favor?”

Donnie looked up. “Hm?”

She pulled off her glasses and handed them to him. “Can you try these on for me?”

Donnie squinted again, this time in suspicion. “Why?”

She held them out more insistently. “C’mon, I wanna see something.”

Donnie rolled his eyes, but took the glasses. “What could you possibly see with me trying on your accessories?” he muttered, turning to awkwardly fit them on his nose. “Honestly, it -” He jolted and blinked in surprise. “Wha -” He blinked and looked around in amazement. 

April laughed triumphantly. “I knew it!”

Donnie turned to her in shock, one hand awkwardly holding the glasses in place. “Is this what everything is supposed to look like?” He looked at Leo. “Is this what you guys see all the time?”

The kitchen echoed with laughter, including Donnie’s. 

“This is amazing!” he cried, pulling the glasses off to examine them more closely. “Oh, I see, the glass is shaped to refract the light! Incredible.” He held them level with his eyes and grinned. “This is what I mean, how bad could humans possibly be if they come up with all this stuff!”

April held out her hand. “I do need those back,” she said apologetically. “But I’ve got a spare pair here you can borrow.”

“Thanks,” Donnie said, passing them back. “I’ve gotta say, though, I’m not sure the red cat-eye is really my style - no offense.”

“Oh, none taken,” April agreed blithely, flouncing her hair. “It takes a lot of work to pull this off!” She tapped her chin thoughtfully, then grinned. “I know! My mom keeps ordering me contacts, even though I never wear them. Looks like we’ve got similar prescriptions, would you want to try those?”

Donnie’s face lit up. “Absolutely!”

“Great,” Mikey said impatiently. “Hurry up and eat, I want to show you some video games!”

Donnie rolled his eyes at the interruption, but finished his breakfast and followed the others to the arcade. The rest of the day was whiled away talking, playing games, arguing about cheat codes. Raph spent most of his time on the dancing game that Donnie wasn’t feeling quite well enough to try. The others took turns placing the different games, co-op and competitive. Donnie wasn’t as good at the racing games as he’d hoped, but after just a few tries on a street fighter game, he was able to beat Leo with ease.

“Haha!” he crowed gleefully, standing on the couch. “Yield to the might of superior intellect!” 

Leo scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Oh, yield to this!” He picked up the pillow from his side and hurled it at his gloating brother. It hit him in the face with deadly accuracy, and Donnie fumbled back to his seat. He pulled the pillow off and returned to blow with a vengeful grin.

Leo laughed and snatched the blanket from the back of the couch, ready to add another weapon to the fight, but paused. “Hey, you alright?” he checked, brow furrowed. “You’re looking pretty pale.”

“Hm?” Donnie wiped his brow and nodded. “I’m fine, I think I’m just tired.”

“Wait, are your arms bleeding again?” April asked in surprise, gently taking his hand to examine his bandages. “I thought they’d healed!”

Donnie frowned at the bandages and shook his head. “I don’t see anything.”

April’s brow creased. “I could’ve sworn I saw something,” she muttered.

Mikey shrugged. “Might just be the light,” he pointed out. “It’s kinda weird in here, with all the screens and everything.”

April’s frown deepened, but she released Donnie’s hand. “I guess.”

“Anyways,” Leo shrugged. “This is the longest you’ve been up in a while, right, Don? I’m not surprised you’re tired.”

Donnie nodded wearily. “Yeah,” he mumbled, wiping his brow again. “I think I might head to bed.”

Mikey smiled at him. “If you wake up hungry later, you can grab something to eat!” he encouraged. “It’s almost dinnertime.” 

Donnie nodded again, scratching distractedly at his bandages. 

Leo frowned. “Stop doing that.”

“Sorry.” Donnie said his goodnights and made his way to his room, still leaning on his crutches.

“Wanna play, Raph?” April called, picking up a controller and settling on the couch. “You’ve been over there all day.”

“Sure!” 

It was a good day.

Of course the next day was when things would take a turn for the worse.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Mikey?”

Mikey looked up from his latest art project sprawled across the kitchen table. “Yeah?”

Raph held up the plate of breakfast food. “Do you want to wake up Donnie before I put away the leftovers?” 

Mikey glanced at the clock, surprised. “Oh, it’s getting pretty late!” He stood and stretched. “I’m surprised he’s not up yet.” He brushed the papers aside to clear another space at the table before trotting out to the atrium, humming tunelessly to himself. He knocked on the frame of Donnie’s door. “Hey, Don! You up yet?” 

There was no response.

Mikey frowned. “Donnie? We’ve got breakfast stuff out. Are you hungry?” Again, silence. “I can get it for you, if you’re not feeling up to moving?” Still nothing.

Mikey felt uneasy. “Can I come in?” No reply. “I - I’m gonna come in, okay?” After yet another moment of silence, he brushed the curtain aside and hesitantly peered inside. His heart dropped.

Something was very, very wrong. Donnie was lying on his stomach, arm hanging limply over the side of his bed, and his breath was coming in rapid, shallow gasps. His eyes were half-closed, rolled back in his head, and his face was pale and sweaty. He looked like he would have been shivering, if even that movement didn’t require so much effort. An acrid smell filled the air, like rot. Like death.

Mikey’s jaw dropped in horror. He stepped back and whirled towards the atrium. “ Leo! ” he screamed. He hurried into the room and knelt by his brother’s bed. He could almost feel the heat radiating off of him, even from that distance. “Donnie? Can you hear me?” He gently took his hand, eyes flitting anxiously over his slack face. “It’s ok, Don, you’re gonna. . . be. . .” He trailed off as he looked down at the bandage in his hand. It was stained, but it didn’t look like blood. The discolorations seemed to shift, like light on the bottom of a pool. A patch of the faint pink substance would appear on the bandages, then shrink into nothing while another sprouted in another spot. Everything about it was wrong.

“What happened?”

Mikey stumbled back as Leo appeared next to him, waving him back to get a better look at their ailing brother.

“I - I don’t know, I just came to get him for breakfast and he was like this! He just -” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Is he gonna be okay?”

Leo lightly brushed Donnie’s brow, his own creased with worry. “Okay, Mikey, I need you to get me some stuff, alright? I need some peroxide, hot water, and clean washcloths and bandages. Can you get that for me?”

Mikey nodded and stood, swiping his tears away as he fled. He heard Leo behind him, speaking gently.

“Donnie, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I need to take your bandages off, okay?” 

As he sprinted up to the bathroom, Mikey found himself running headlong into Raph’s solid plastron.

“Whoa, Mikey!” Raph cried in surprise, catching his shoulders. “What’s going on? What were you yelling about?”

Mikey shook his head and pushed past him. “Something’s wrong with Donnie!”

“What?” Raph cried, eyes widening in horror. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I dunno, but Leo’s worried!” He ducked under the sink and gathered up an armful of towels. His head smacked the top of the cabinet in his haste, but he barely paused digging through the mess. “Where’s the peroxide? Isn’t it here? It’s supposed to be here!”

“Medbay, I’ll get it.”

By the time they returned with the supplies, Leo had gotten the bandages off of Donnie’s arms and shell. Mikey couldn’t look. From the brief glance he got, the shell looked mangled and bloody, like that first night in the medbay, but much worse. It looked like the wounds that had been healing had reopened, and somehow spread. Something about the sight was unnerving, unnatural. 

“This isn’t a normal infection,” Leo murmured anxiously as he dabbed the afflicted area with antibiotic salve. “Look at his wounds.”

Mikey gagged and turned away, but Raph didn’t shirk.

“Are they - are they glowing?” he asked in surprise.

“It looks like it,” Leo agreed. Mikey handed him the washcloths he held and finally turned to look hesitantly at the wounds. Indeed, Donnie’s shell and arms seemed to be glowing, a sickening pink. The strange light emanated from the wounds themselves, and the glow seemed to be spreading up his arms, judging by the web of veins that shared a similar hue.

“Guys?” April poked her head into the room, Mayhem at her feet. She looked confused until her gaze landed on Donnie. Her face morphed to horror. “Donnie!” She stepped forward and reached for his hand, then hesitated and pulled away when she saw the discoloration. “What happened? I thought he was getting better!”

“So did I,” Leo whispered, rubbing his eyes. “I should’ve noticed something. . .”

Mayhem hopped onto the bed and chirped inquisitively. He rubbed his face against Donnie’s before curling up at his side.

“What is it?” Mikey whispered in horror. “Some kind of mystic infection?”

Leo shook his head fretfully. “I don’t know, it’s -”

Donnie’s eyes fluttered. He mumbled something into his pillow.

Leo paused in his work and leaned forward, eyes wide. “What was that?”

Donnie’s head lolled to the side, so his mouth was no longer buried in the pillow, and spoke again. “New. . . vines. . .” he breathed hoarsely. His eyes fluttered, and he trembled with the effort. Every word seemed to take all his strength. His voice was thready, barely audible. “Toxin. . .” He shuddered. Raph patted his head encouragingly. Donnie leaned into the touch. 

“New vines?” Leo muttered, sitting back on his heels with a look of befuddlement. “What does that mean? Those vines were magic, weren’t they?”

“No,” April said, snapping her fingers. “Draxum threw seeds, remember? He made those!”

Raph nodded slowly. “So of course he’d make different kinds,” he muttered.

Mikey groaned, wrapping his arms around his stomach. “So he made these new vines to fight with that had special venom in them -”

Donnie’s eyes flickered. “Toxin,” he whispered.

Mikey winced. “Try to rest, Don - but yeah, toxin, whatever, but why didn’t the rest of us get it? We were all hit by them at some point!”

“Hit,” Leo agreed, “but none of us had anything beyond bruises. Donnie had open wounds. It probably went directly to the bloodstream.”

April froze and glanced at her arm. “I scraped my elbow,” she murmured anxiously.

Leo’s eyes widened. “Do you think any got in?”

She peeled back the sleeve of her jacket and examined the scarred-over wound. “It doesn’t look like it. . .”

“Alright, toxin,” Raph agreed, rubbing his brow. “But why is it just showing up now?”

Leo frowned thoughtfully.

Donnie mumbled again, though this time his eyes remained closed. “Dormant. . .” he breathed. “Dormant toxin. . . new vines. . . forgot, didn’t thi. . .” He groaned quietly. His head lolled forward, into the pillow. His breathing got more rapid, almost frantic.

“Donnie!” Raph whispered, gently readjusting his head so he wasn’t smothered by the pillow. “You still with us?”

Donnie gave a strained hum. His fist curled around the corner of his pillow.

“Can you get him on his side?” Leo murmured. “It’ll take the pressure off his chest and open his airways.” 

Raph got him resettled. Donnie was shaking again, shivering against the cold. Raph tried to pull back, but Donnie grabbed his hand and clung to it tightly. Tears pooled in Raph’s eyes. He traced his thumb lightly over Donnie’s knuckles. Mayhem resettled against his side.

April crossed her arms, a contemptuous look on her face. “So Draxum made these fancy new vines,” she muttered, “with a weird magic toxin that doesn’t show symptoms until it’s -” She broke off, but everyone could hear the ‘too late’ lingering in the air. She took a deep breath. “And then he used it on him,” she hissed, teeth clenched tightly.

“That’s what it looks like,” Raph growled. Mikey bit his lip and looked away, wiping his eyes. Crying wasn’t going to be productive. At least their anger had a target.

“Should we rewrap his shell?” April ventured hesitantly.

Leo shook his head hesitantly. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, wrapping and unwrapping and rewrapping the bandages around his own hand anxiously. “I’ve already cleaned it up, but I don’t want to trap all that stuff in there, but I don’t want it exposed to anything else. . .”

Donnie’s eyes fluttered. “‘M sorry,” he murmured deliriously. “‘M s’rry, sir, ‘m s’rry. . .”

Leo’s eyes widened with alarm. “Donnie, it’s okay! You’re with us, remember? You’re safe.”

Mikey finally shuffled forward, crouching by the bed. “Donnie, do you remember where you are?” he murmured.

Donnie’s unfocused eyes flickered to his, briefly, before rolling around the rest of the room. He looked confused. He gripped Raph’s hand more tightly.

“‘M scared,” he whispered.

Leo leaned forward and took his other hand. “I know,” he said quietly, “But it’s gonna. . . we’re. . .” Mikey could hear the bitter regret and fear in his voice. Leo cleared his throat. “Listen, you’re being so strong right now. I need you to be strong for a couple seconds more. I need you to think really hard, okay? Can you think of any cure for this toxin? What can we do to help?”

“Hm?” Donnie tilted his head to the side, eyes rolling towards the ceiling. “Anti. . . dote.” He broke off and coughed. It sounded jagged and rough, like his lungs were full of broken glass. The motion was so sudden and violent that it made Mikey jump. Donnie shook his head. “Lab.”

Mikey’s heart sank. His hands curled into fists at his side.

Raph nodded and stood, dropping Donnie’s hand. “Then we go to the lab.” Leo nodded with determination. April and Mikey glanced at each other, the same grim resolve reflected in each other’s faces.

Donnie groaned. He squeezed Leo’s hand. “Danger,” he whimpered. “Danger, don’t. . . S’okay, ‘m okay. . .”

Leo squeezed his hand tightly. “We’ll be okay, Donnie,” he whispered, pressing their foreheads together. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Donnie groaned and shook his head again. “Don’t,” he hissed. “Dra - Drax, he’ll - s’okay. Don’t.”

Leo squeezed his hand tightly in both of his own before standing. Donnie didn’t let go, showing remarkable strength given his state. Leo gently pried his hand away and stepped back. 

April stepped forward and took Donnie’s hand, stroking his brow with a warm smile. “We’ll be back before you know, okay?” she promised him. “And then you’ll be all better. Don’t worry.” He didn’t look very reassured.

April stood. “Mayhem, come on! We’ve got to go.” The little creature sent a hesitant look at Donnie, but hopped to the floor and followed her out.

Mikey took his chance to shift forward and gently rested a hand on Donnie’s shoulder. “Just remember Jupiter Jim,” he said quietly. “He had to be strong too, right? Remember the moon with Atomic Lass and Nova Nix? He had to let people help him, even when he didn’t want them to get hurt. But everything turned out okay! We’re going to help you, just like them, alright?”

Donnie met his eye, his own clouded and teary. He shook his head. “S’okay,” he mumbled.

Mikey leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. He was burning up. “We’ll be okay,” he whispered. “We won’t leave you to die, Donnie.” He pressed a kiss against his forehead and stood, following the others out to the atrium, just outside his door.

“One of us needs to stay behind,” Leo said. “Someone has to stay with Donnie and make sure he doesn’t get any worse.”

“Shouldn’t that be you?” Raph pointed out. “You’re the medic.”

“I’m also the one with a portal sword heading into the den of our greatest enemy,” Leo pointed out, twirling his odachi into its sheath to prove his point.

Raph frowned. “Alright. . . April?”

“Teleporting pet,” she pointed out, hefting Mayhem into her arms. “In case the portal sword fails.”

“Hey!”

She held up her hands defensively. “Just covering all our bases!”

Raph sighed and rubbed his brow. “Alright, Mikey,” he sighed. “It’s up to you.”

Mikey bristled. “I’m coming too!” he insisted. “I’m not a baby, you can’t leave me behind here while you all go into the most dangerous place in the universe!”

“Mikey, someone needs to stay -”

“He’s our best fighter,” Leo pointed out. “Plus, his magic weapon is the most versatile out of all of ours, he should be there.” 

“Well, I need to be there to protect you all!” Raph retorted. “I’m the oldest, I’m the leader, I’m going!”

“You all go.”

Everyone turned sharply to see Splinter standing behind them. His hands were tucked behind his back, shoulders drawn back, a grim remorse in his eyes. “I will take care of Donatello,” he continued. “You should stick together. You’re a team.”

Leo’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’ll take care of Donnie?” he echoed sharply. “Why? That’s a pretty sharp change from wishing he’d never been here.”

Splinter hesitated, then bowed his head. “It is the least I can do,” he murmured. 

Leo’s gaze softened, but he didn’t look away.

Splinter sighed. “I shouldn’t have said all of those things,” he admitted. “I was wrong. I’m sorry. It was very brave of you to rescue your brother, all of you. Of course I’m glad he’s somewhere safe now, I just - I was afraid.” He shook his head. “I do not want Baron Draxum to hurt our family.” He looked up sharply. “Which is why you must all be very careful , understood? Be quiet, stick to the shadows, and if you are spotted , make sure you are not followed, alright?”

Mikey nodded sharply. They were going to get that antidote if it killed them.

“We’ll be in and out in no time,” Raph promised, cracking his knuckles. 

April nodded wordlessly in agreement.

Splinter chuckled, wiping his eyes. “Of course, I wish you wouldn’t go into such danger at all,” he mumbled. “But I suspect there is nothing I can do to stop you.”

Mikey shook his head.

All eyes turned to Leo. The slider studied Splinter for a moment. He dropped his gaze and nodded.

“Thanks, Dad,” he whispered.

Splinter nodded and took his hand. “Show me what I must do before you leave,” he said quietly. “I’ll take good care of him.”

His brothers were gone. The room was fuzzy and frightening and he was alone with someone unknown and dangerous. Shadows and light warped oddly, becoming claws and sharp teeth and cruel laughing mouths against the walls. Everything was hot and it hurt hurt hurt. His muscles felt slack and weak, like unraveled yarn. Something was burning and his brothers were gone. Donnie buried his face in the pillow and closed his eyes, blocking out the whirling light and strange visions. He felt tears pooling in the fabric. He didn’t care. His brothers were gone.

The Hidden City was busy, bustling with morning commotion. The small team racing silently across the rooftops didn’t stop to observe. They were on a deadline. Even Leo didn’t make any wisecracks. 

Raph held up a hand, signaling them to stop. Everyone came to a halt a few rooftops away before the moat surrounding the castle. Mikey dropped into a crouch, peering through the shadows at the intimidating structure.

“There’s gotta be a way in,” Leo muttered. “Drainpipes or something, right? Even underground cities need sewers.”

“Yeah, but can we fit through?” Raph countered. “We could get through the underground fine, it’s actually getting in that’d be hard.” 

Mikey peered through the thick shadows, eyes skimming over the windows and doorways. “Maybe nobody’s home,” he suggested. “Then we could just break a window?”

“He’d probably have it booby trapped,” April pointed out. She rested her bat on her shoulder. Mayhem circled her neck to avoid the weapon and sent a fervent glance at the bustling crowds below.

“We should circle and see if there’s any way in,” Raph decided, straightening up. “Let’s go.” 

It wasn’t until they reached the back of the building that Leo spotted a small door, just above the moat. “I’ve got this,” he said confidently, swinging his odachi in front of him. He sent a cursory look at Raph, who just nodded. Leo smiled proudly and twirled the blade before him. After a few unsuccessful attempts, a glowing portal sprang to life before the group. Mikey felt his heart leap as a matching one appeared before the door across the moat. Despite everything, he grinned.

“You did it, Leo!” he cried gleefully.

Leo nodded in disbelief, eyes wide.

“Let’s go!” Raph hissed, pushing them through. Once they got to the other side, April was able to jimmy the door with her metro card in seconds. Everyone held their breath as the door creaked open. Mikey peered through to the shadowy kitchen, nervously looking for any tripwires or bear traps set out on the floor. Nothing seemed immediately apparent.

Mayhem chirped and curled against April’s head, wide eyes peering around the interior of the castle.

“Hey, bud,” April said quietly, lifting a hand to pet his head. “You gonna be okay?” 

The small creature hummed uncertainly, but didn’t bolt, which Mikey chose to take as a good sign.

“Alright,” Raph muttered, punching his fists together. “Stealth mode.”

Someone was humming. It was a tune that was so familiar and yet so distant, a voice that he almost remembered. Donnie felt his chin trembling, more hot tears falling down his cheeks. It was a voice that had only been there for a moment, long before he’d had conscious memories. In a box, warm, happy, with others like him, a voice that had sung a quiet, comforting song. ‘Such cute little turtles,’ it had said. ‘Do not worry, I will not let him make you monsters.’ Then, fire, falling, landing hard on his soft shell as he reached for someone being carried away, someone who was reaching back with a tiny hand, crying in distress.

Donnie felt a broken sob escape his lips. The singing stopped.

“Donatello,” the quiet voice said, “can you hear me?”

He was mocking him, toying with him. Again, that song, that voice, and again, his brothers were gone. They were always gone, they’d always been gone. Why was he so upset? He’d never had brothers before. He could have no brothers again. Right?

If that’s what made them happy, maybe.

The burning on his shell abated slightly, just for a moment, as something was placed over it.

“I am sorry, Donatello,” the voice whispered. “I will not fail you again.”

Mikey crept behind Raph and April through the hallways, Leo bringing up the rear. Five minutes already and they still had no idea where the lab was. The castle was apparently much bigger than it looked on the outside, and most of it was cloaked in shadow. The larger rooms they’d seen - the kitchen, dining room, a spacious library - were all in shambles, clutter and dirty dishes littering the lavish spaces. This disturbed Mikey. Baron Draxum seemed like a lot of things, but a slob was certainly not one of them. That, plus Donnie’s almost skittish aversion to clutter, led Mikey to believe that this mess was a recent development.

Raph eased another door open and waved the others in. Mikey scampered inside, then paused when he stepped onto what looked to be an observation deck. He frowned in confusion through the scratched glass at the dusty ring below. It was empty, adorned only by a large barn door on one end and a smaller door on the other. Something dark stained the walls.

Mikey’s stomach turned.

“Not here,” Raph muttered, grabbing his arm and pulling him back through the door. “C’mon.” He resettled his arm to rest around Mikey’s shoulders. Mikey leaned into him, just for a moment. He’d never wanted this window into Donnie’s life. 

The next door they opened revealed a small dojo, full of training equipment. An assortment of bo staffs stood in a barrel at one end. Shards of a couple broken staffs were piled in the corner, gathering dust, clearly kicked away without a second thought.

April shook her head in frustration. “We’re getting nowhere!” she hissed, glancing out the door. “Once we get to the lab, how are we even going to know what the antidote looks like?” Mayhem, still sitting on her shoulder, sent a fervent look around.

“We’ll just take everything there,” Raph suggested.

“Oh, what?” Leo scoffed. “Just give them to Donnie one by one until something works?”

“Well, what’s your idea, genius?”

Mikey held out his hand to stop them. “Arguing isn’t going to get us anywhere!” he hissed. “Let’s just find the lab and -”

“What are you doing here?”

Everyone froze and turned slowly to see the two gargoyles fluttering in the doorway. The spiny one shot forward, slamming into Mikey’s face so aggressively that he barely had time to stumble back.

Huggin grabbed Mikey’s face. “Where’s Mini-Boss?” he demanded, eyes wide. “Is he okay?”

“Why are you here?” Muninn added, crowding into Mikey’s view. “Are you going to sell him out to Draxum?”

“Hey!” Leo snapped, grabbing Huggin’s wings and pulling him off Mikey’s face. “Personal space, bub!”

Huggin twisted from his grip and circled to face him again. “Where’s Mini-Boss?” he repeated, more urgently.

“Donnie’s back home,” Mikey explained, rubbing his face where the gargoyle’s claws had gripped him. “He’s hurt.”

Muninn nodded fervently. “Draxum’s been in a -” He paused. “Wait, ‘Donnie’?”

Raph nodded. “That’s his name,” he replied quietly. “Donatello.”

Huggin alighted on a  rack of weapons and paused, tilting his head. “Donatello,” he echoed. 

Muninn nodded approvingly. “I like it,” he decided. “It’s refined, y’know?”

Huggin nodded proudly in agreement. “Sounds very dignified,” he added. “Just the thing Mini-Boss would pick.”

“It suits him.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Hey!” April hissed, snapping her fingers. “Focus, please!”

Muninn jumped. “Oh, you said he’s hurt!” he gasped. “Right, Draxum’s been talking about these vines he used -”

“Toxic vines,” Leo agreed sharply. “He’s really, really sick, and he said there’s an antidote here.” He crossed his arms with a frown. “If Draxum hasn’t destroyed it or something.”

“Destroyed it?” Huggin echoed, fluttering from his perch. “No, he’s been in a tizzy all week trying to find him so he could give it to him!”

Mikey paused. “What?”

Huggin waved them towards the door. “C’mon, it’s over here.”

“Uh, no,” Raph interrupted, holding up his hand. “How do we know we can trust you? How do we know this isn’t a trap?”

Muninn rolled his eyes. “We risked our wings to get Min - er, Donnie, out of here. Do you really think we’d circle back on that now?”

Mikey frowned suspiciously, eyes narrowing. He shared a look with the others. Lying to give them a few extra seconds to escape was one thing. Leading them through the very den of their greatest enemy was quite another. The gargoyles could very easily lead them straight to Draxum. No doubt he had some way to sniff out their home and find Donnie himself, back into the monster’s clutches to do who-knows-what, or just let him suffer and -

No. No. No, Donnie was not going to die. Mikey simply refused to entertain the idea. No matter what, they would get that antidote. Even if these gargoyles led them right into Draxum’s claws, they would fight their way out and save their brother. There was simply no other way the story could end. 

But the only way any of this happened was if they trusted the gargoyles. They were already trapped in the castle. They had no other choice. By the looks on their faces, the others had all reached the same conclusion. 

Raph sighed and looked away. “Alright,” he muttered. He looked up again and pointed warningly at them. “But one weird move,” he hissed, “and you’re - you’re goyle-burgers, got it? I’ll crush you!”

Huggin nodded and waved them forward. “Got it, now come on!”

“We know it’s somewhere in the lab,” Muninn added, fluttering alongside the group as they traversed down the hall, “but Boss’s got a lot of stuff in there - bottles and jars and a billion different weird brews. We’re not sure which one it is.”

“Does he keep lab journals?” April suggested. “Stuff to keep track of his experiments?”

“Oh, yeah!” Huggin recalled brightly. “A whole shelf, right in -” He paused and held up a claw. Everyone halted at the sound of hoofsteps on tile.

“I’m not implying anything,” Baron Draxum snarled around the corner. “I’m simply saying, if you happen to see some mutated turtles wandering about, I’d appreciate it if you alerted me.” A pause. “Well, I thought they’d been killed years ago, but it turns out they’re alive. I simply want to - What business - Lost the one I had? As if. . . Yes, I sent the gargoyles, the turtle simply had more important business to attend.” Another pause, then a scoff. “Believe it or not, Big Mama, you are not, in fact, the center of the universe. Some of us like to diversify our portfolios, as it were.”

Mikey raised his eyebrows. There was that Big Mama again. He and Leo shared a look of equal surprise.

Draxum continued, sounding more annoyed by the second. “If you’d do me the enormous honor of using real words, I would be much obliged. . . Well, seeing as how I made them, and they are my property, that makes anyone who plays ‘finders, keepsies’, as you so eloquently put it, a thief.” He barked with laughter. “Oh, please don’t play the moral high ground, we all know that most Nexus champions aren’t there out of their own will. If nothing else, it’s no secret what Lou Jitsu’s real situation was.”

Mikey clapped a hand over his mouth. Raph jumped. April sent back a bewildered look, questioning if the others had just heard the same as her. By the look of it, everyone had the same question.

What in the fuck did Lou Jitsu have to do with anything?

Draxum continued talking as he trotted away, snapping something about battle matches and webs. Mikey glanced at Muninn, fluttering behind him.

“Did he say Lou Jitsu?” he whispered in dismay.

Muninn, however, had other things on his mind. “He’s calling Big Mama for help?” he hissed, moving to catch up with Huggin. He looked horrified.

“He’s getting really desperate,” Huggin agreed grimly, waving them to follow him again. “This is definitely going to bite him in the ass.”

“And us with him,” Muninn muttered, pushing against a huge, heavy door. “Think we oughta quit before those consequences circle around?”

“Ah, Big Mama barely even glances at us,” Huggin scoffed. “I doubt we’ll be in any actual trouble with her. Personally, at least.” He pulled a lever by a door. “Plus, if we quit now, we won't get any severance pay.” 

“True.”

Mikey’s head spun. He didn’t know what to ask about first - who was Big Mama, why was she so dangerous, why was Draxum so desperate to find them, and Lou Jitsu? But he didn’t get the chance to ask any of them. The door before them swung open to reveal the familiar sight of the lab. The central pillar had been cracked, and the buzzing flock of mosquitoes in the terrarium was noticeably absent, but it was unmistakable. This room, too, was a victim of the clutter that seemed to have swept over the base.

Leo grimaced as he sidestepped a broken test tube on the floor. “Jeez, we really did a number here,” he muttered, smiling wryly to himself.

“Oh, no, this wasn’t you,” Huggin dismissed airily, apparently unconcerned that he’d missed the joke. “Baron Draxum’s been a mess since Mini-B - ugh, what’d you call him, Danny? Since he’s gone missing. He’s just been looking for him, every waking second, and sends us out to look too, so we haven’t had much of a chance to clean up.”

“Anyways,” Muninn added, fluttering to a bookshelf, “Mini-Boss did most of the cleaning. He always hated messes.” April joined him as they skimmed through the handwritten markers on the spines of the journals. 

Mikey paced around the room, careful to avoid the broken glass, examining the cases and cabinets of glowing bottles. Why was Draxum going to all this trouble to search? If he only saw Donnie as a weapon, couldn’t he just make another? Then again, thirteen years was a lot of time to dedicate to a new weapon. He now knew that the three of them had survived, as well. Perhaps he was looking to reclaim all of them, now that he had the chance. 

Or maybe. . . maybe there was something else. Maybe, deep down, he did care about Donnie, in his own weird way.

Mikey shook his head sharply. This wasn’t love. Forcing someone to live like this - that sick training ring, the bruises, the scars, the brutal fights and work he’d had to do from such a young age - there was no love in that. That was cruelty. They couldn’t coexist. One canceled out the other.

“Here!” Muninn cried, heaving a book off the shelf. April slid it the rest of the way off and flipped it open. She thumbed through the pages frowning at the headers and page numbers.

“Here!” she breathed in relief. “Ok, ‘toxin formula yaddaadada, successful, dadadaddaa, antidote, cabinet C, bottle numbers 16 through 24!’” She snapped the book shut and tucked it into her bookbag. 

Mikey glanced around, but Leo reached cabinet C first. He flung it open and knocked the bottles aside in his haste. 

“Got it!” he hissed, holding up a handful of glowing blue vials. He dropped them into the pouch on his belt and cinched it shut. “Alright, let’s get out of here!”

The door swung open. Everyone froze and turned in horror to see Baron Draxum, looking bedraggled and exhausted, standing in the doorway. He stared back. His eyes narrowed, sharp teeth clenched in fury.

“ You. ”

Donnie still couldn’t move, but the pain was subsiding a little. Whoever was with him (he couldn’t remember his name or face or where he was or why) was pressing cool cloths against the wounds on his arms. Donnie wasn’t looking at him. His gaze was fixed on Draxum, standing just behind the stranger, watching Donnie with eyes that looked a little too big, a little too malicious.

“I’m sorry for leaving you, Donatello,” the stranger said softly. “I didn’t know you were there.” He chuckled sadly as he peeled the rags away. Donnie would’ve cringed at the pain if he’d had the strength. “The boys - your brothers - they were inconsolable after we escaped. For weeks, all they did was cry.” He replaced the rags. Donnie relaxed a bit, though his gaze never left Draxum. “I thought they were just frightened. They were just infants, after all, and we were in a bad situation. I thought perhaps they were just afraid.” A gnarled hand rested against Donnie’s face. He didn’t know how to feel about the touch. “Now I see. They were missing you, my son.”

Son? 

Draxum grinned. His teeth were long and sharp and then he laughed and it was loud and cruel and it made him hurt. Donnie couldn’t look away, couldn’t close his eyes. He knew that as soon as he did, Draxum would attack. He’d already taken his brothers. Clearly, he had, otherwise they’d be here. Draxum had taken his brothers and now they were somewhere hurt and alone like Turtle had been and he couldn’t do anything but watch.

Turtle had betrayed him. He deserved this. He was dying and he deserved it.

He closed his eyes. Someone called a strange name. Turtle didn’t respond. 

Mikey swung his kusari fundo out, snagging it on a shelf that he attempted to bring down on Draxum’s head. The lab was a veritable jungle of writhing vines, glowing red fists, electric blue portals, the occasional crack of a baseball bat. Draxum hadn’t even done his whole ‘Join me and kill all the humans’ speech. He’d just launched right into attack.

Mikey spotted Mayhem, out the corner of his eye, ducking through the mess with surprising ease. The small creature leapt onto Mikey’s shoulder and chittered loudly. Mikey cringed as his claws dug into the skin of his shoulder, but he nodded.

“Get everyone together so you can portal us out,” he shouted over the noise. “I got it!”

Mayhem nodded and hopped from his shoulder.

Leo shrieked as a vine obliterated the wall just above his head. 

“Where is he?” Draxum roared, eyes wild. “Where is the turtle? Where have you taken him?”

“Oh!” Mikey called brightly, swinging his weapon towards the yokai’s head. “You want a turtle? You should’ve just said!”

Draxum dodged his attack and turned to face him, seething. “ My turtle,” he snarled. “Why is he not here?”

Their eyes met, and Mikey faltered. His arms went slack by his side. He tilted his head, confused. There was genuine fear in those eyes, fear and regret and remorse and anger and pain.

Did he. . . Did he really miss Donnie?

A glowing red fist landed on Draxum’s face, and he tumbled away. He roared with fury and returned his attention to Raph. Leo attempted yet again to make a portal, but it was useless. Mayhem was too tired to portal to the lair more than once, after bringing them all to the Hidden City to begin with, so they only had one shot to return if he couldn’t get his sword to cooperate. 

Leo swung his sword again, uselessly. Before Mikey could run over to help him, a vine snagged the slider’s ankle and swung him into the air. Leo yelped in surprise, twisting to get a better view of the trap.

“Leo!” Mikey yelled, running after his flailing form.

Leo twisted in the air, then straightened out, holding his bag. “Mikey, go long!” he shouted. Mikey’s eyes widened, but he held up his hands. Leo hurled the bag with all his might. Mikey dove and caught it just before it hit the ground. His chin smacked the tile floor, his teeth clacking together painfully. He ignored it in favor of listening to the jingle of the vials inside, relieved that none of them seemed to have broken. 

He looked up and his heart sank. April, Leo, Raph, even Mayhem were tangled in the writhing plants. Despite the flickering mystic energy, they were trapped.

Draxum turned his mad gaze to Mikey. He threw a handful of seeds to the ground and they exploded into vines, encircling the turtle, rising high to the arched ceiling. Mikey felt so small next to them. Any moment, they would strike, and it would all be over.

Mikey steeled himself and stumbled to his feet. He let his weapon hang limp by his side. He could hear his siblings desperately calling his name. It was a shot in the dark but he had to try. If anything meant anything, he had to try. The vines began arcing downward, straight towards him.

Mikey held out the bag. “Our brother is dying!” he screamed. “He’s dying and if you care about him even a little bit you’ll let us go and let us save him! ” 

Everything stopped. The entire world, the very air, seemed to freeze. Mikey cracked an eye open. He didn’t remember when he’d closed them. Draxum was staring at him, eyes wide, wild, unreadable. The vines had frozen midair. Mikey opened his eyes and didn’t look away.

He could practically feel his siblings shaking their heads, waiting for the surprise attack, begging him to do something, anything but this. But he didn’t move. Nobody moved.

Mikey continued returning Draxum’s gaze, unflinching.

He knew what he’d seen. 

Draxum made no movement, but the vines snapped open. The others tumbled to the ground with a cry of surprise. Mikey still didn’t move, didn’t look away from Draxum, even as he saw his brothers and sister sprinting towards him, Mayhem leaping forward, even when they grabbed him and he heard the hum of energy sparking through Mayhem’s fur. 

Only when the world disappeared in a flash of blue did he close his eyes.

Suddenly, he was sprawled on his back, blinking at the ceiling of the lair. He heard the others groaning around him and sat up. The four of them looked at each other in silence for a moment.

Mikey gripped the canvas of the bag tightly between his fingers. “Should we. . .” he whispered. “Should we tell Donnie about that?”

There was a long pause.

“Not right away,” Raph decided finally. It was good enough.

“Boys!” Splinter called frantically. “Are you back?”

Leo stood and took the bag from Mikey as he passed towards Donnie’s room. “We’re here,” he called, pushing the curtain aside. The others scrambled to their feet to follow after. “How is he?”

Splinter looked distraught as he futilely held a rag against Donnie’s face. “Very bad,” he whispered. Indeed, the glowing wounds had spread almost all the way up his arms now, and his shell looked almost deflated. It made Mikey sick, but he didn’t look away this time.

“Did you get the antidote?” Splinter pressed.

Leo nodded grimly as he knelt by Donnie’s bedside. April dug into her bag and withdrew the lab journal, flipping through the pages.

“It says to apply the even-numbered vials directly to the wound,” she read. “Then have him drink one of the odd-numbered ones.”

Leo nodded and picked up a clean rag. He spoke softly as he worked, gently cleaning Donnie’s shell and arms. As the cloth swiped over the wounds and the pale blue liquid trickled in, the sickly glow began to fade. The color slowly returned to Donnie’s face and his breathing slowed and steadied.

Mikey sighed in relief and collapsed into a beanbag in the corner. April curled up next to him, resting her cheek on the top of his head. He snuggled into her side, grateful for the comfort after the long and frightening day. Mayhem curled up on his lap with a yawn.

“What Draxum did,” he whispered, “letting us go like that. . .”

April sighed forlornly. “Yeah.”

Mikey hesitated. “What does that make him?”

After a long pause, she shrugged. “Human.”

Mikey frowned. That didn’t quite answer his question.

“Alright, Don,” Leo said softly, supporting his brother’s head. “I need you to drink this, alright? Then you’ll be okay.”

Donnie’s eyes fluttered open, and he managed to swallow the contents of the vial held to his lips before he closed his eyes and slumped back again. Leo gently settled him on the bed and busied himself checking his pulse, breathing, temperature - anything he could check, because he needed to know he was alright.

“Is he okay?” Raph asked hoarsely, slumped on the desk chair.

Leo nodded and straightened up. “He will be when he wakes up.”

Splinter nodded and stepped forward again, resting a hand on the curve of Leo’s shell. “Get some rest, my children,” he said quietly. “I will keep watch over him.”

Leo hesitated, then turned to the beanbag where April and Mikey huddled. He paused and glanced back at Splinter. “You’ll wake me if anything happens?”

He nodded.

Leo nodded in return and joined the two of them, sprawled out on Mikey’s other side. Mikey reached out and took his hand. Leo squeezed it gratefully.

“Raph,” Mikey called. “Get over here, we’re cuddle-piling.”

Raph chuckled weakly, but he left and returned with his own beanbag to add to the pile. In minutes, they were out again.

Donnie groaned quietly and rubbed his eyes. He blinked groggily. God, what the hell had happened? He felt like he’d just been hit by a truck.

“Donatello?”

He stiffened and followed the source of the voice. Splinter sat by his bedside, leaning forward with an anxious look on his face. Donnie instinctively scrambled back, then froze with a strangled gasp. His shell was burning again and the wounds on his arms felt like they’d been torn open.

“I’m sorry,” Splinter hissed anxiously, holding out his hands placatingly. “I didn’t mean to startle you - please try not to move too much.”

Donnie stared at him for a moment. Splinter made no move, nor did he look particularly upset, so he slowly resettled to rest on his stomach again. A quick glance around the room confirmed that his brothers and sister had returned safely from their mission. They clearly felt safe enough to let their guard down. He should be fine. 

“Donatello,” Splinter continued softly, “do you remember what has happened?”

Donnie closed his eyes and nodded. “Draxum used the toxic vines on me,” he mumbled. “Since I’m not dead, I’m assuming the trip to retrieve the antidote was a success.”

Splinter chuckled weakly. “Indeed.”

Donnie shook his head. “It was stupid,” he muttered. “They could’ve died. They didn’t need to risk that for me.”

After a moment, Splinter rested a hand on his arm. “Yes they did, Purple,” he said quietly. “Because you are family.”

Donnie opened his eyes and met his gaze warily.

Splinter sighed and dropped his gaze. “I am sorry, Donatello.”

Donnie bit his lip and looked away.

“I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry I left you behind, that you were hurt - I’m sorry I was so afraid.” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “And I’m sorry that I didn’t welcome you into this family - your family - the way I should have.”

Donnie didn’t respond for a few moments. “It’s - it’s fine,” he said finally, softly, afraid of waking his brothers. “I’m here now. I guess that’s what’s important.”

Splinter cleared his throat. “Did. . . did Draxum ever. . . continue his experiments?”

“On me?” Donnie supplemented wearily. Splinter nodded hesitantly. Donnie shrugged. “For a bit. Little stuff, mostly. He tried to make me stronger, a lot, but nothing ever took.” He rested his chin on his arms and sighed through his nose. “He stopped a few years ago, though. He gave me something to make me tougher and it messed me up really bad. I don’t even remember that week, but he said I was just laid up in bed and seizing up.” He shuddered at the thought. “After that, he stopped tinkering with me so much. Said he couldn’t afford to lose me.”

Splinter tilted his head. “Couldn’t afford?”

“I guess. It took him so long to raise me, he probably just didn’t want to start over.”

Anyways, that’s what he’d been telling himself the past few days. It was easier to think.

Splinter shook his head mournfully. “I’m sorry. I was just so afraid,” he murmured. “Draxum - he - I was afraid that he would hurt our family again.” He rubbed his eyes and shook his head again. “It was selfish,” he muttered, “being so cold to you.”

Donnie hummed. “To be fair,” he mumbled, lifting his chin from the pillow, “I wasn’t making it terribly easy.” Splinter looked up in surprise. Donnie shrugged. “I mean, I was scared too,” he continued. “Scared that he’d find me, or - or that you’d all hurt me like he did, or just sell me out to him if I made you upset. Maybe I wasn’t fair either, being so afraid of you. I understand.”

Splinter smiled sadly at him. “Oh, my son,” he murmured, squeezing his arm. This time, Donnie appreciated it. “You carry so much sadness. You do not need to feel badly for being frightened.”

Donnie closed his eyes and rested his head on his arms again. Splinter moved his hand from his arm to his head, stroking his brow.

“Are you. . . still frightened?” he continued hesitantly.

Donnie shook his head. “Not anymore,” he mumbled.

Splinter sighed in quiet relief. “Good.” He didn’t pull his hand away. Just kept stroking his head in slow, soothing rhythm. Donnie felt himself beginning to doze when he began singing again, softly, the same lullaby from earlier. The memory was soft, this time.

Someone stirred in the corner. “Donnie?”

Donnie blinked and sat up on his elbows. “Mikey?”

“Donnie!” In a blur of orange and green, the box turtle was suddenly crashing into him, encasing him in a crushing hug. “Don’t ever do that again,” he sobbed. “You scared us to death!”

Donnie chuckled weakly. “Sorry, I’ll warn you next time I’m planning to get infected by a deadly toxin.” He wrapped his arms around his little brother.

Mikey sniffled. “You’d better!”

“Mikey,” Leo groaned, rolling off the beanbag, “be careful! You’ll hurt him again!”

“I’m fine,” Donnie assured him quickly, tightening his grip around his little brother. He didn’t want to lose this embrace. “It’s just a little sore, nothing bad.”

“Really?” Leo stood and trotted over. “Oh, wow, it already looks worlds better!”

“That’s probably the magic stuff in the serum,” Donnie yawned. “With this stuff I should be back on my feet in a few days.”

“So, you’re feeling better?” April prodded anxiously. Mayhem hopped off her shoulder and onto the bed, curling up on Donnie’s pillow.

He smiled and nodded. “Much better.” He frowned as Raph stood, eyes flickering over his brothers. “What about you guys? Any trouble?”

Everyone hesitated. Just for a split-second, but it was long enough to notice.

“We ran into Draxum for a second,” Raph admitted.

Donnie jolted and sat up a little. “Draxum?” he echoed. “What did he say? Did he do anything?”

“We didn’t talk or anything,” Leo said quickly. “We got away okay, just some bruises.”

Donnie frowned, but nodded. Mikey wriggled out of his grip and sat up, quickly turning away. Donnie tried not to feel too disappointed. 

“I’m, uh, gonna order some pizza,” Mikey mumbled, hurrying from the room. Leo frowned, but waved to Donnie and followed after. Mayhem took the opportunity to move to curl up by Donnie’s chest. He rested a hand in his fur, grateful for the warmth.

Raph glanced anxiously from him to Splinter and back again. “So. . .”

“We talked,” Donnie answered with a small smile. “We’re good.”

Raph grinned in relief and nodded. “Good.” He hesitated. “Can I, uh. . . can I give you a hug?”

Donnie nodded and sat up. Raph’s arms completely engulfed him in the embrace. Donnie closed his eyes and returned the hug as best he could. After the feverish hours when he was convinced they’d all abandoned him, he was grateful for the reassurance. He’d never have to be alone again.

Chapter Text

Weeks passed. As per his prediction, Donnie’s shell and arms began healing much more rapidly after receiving the antidote. Within a week, he was walking around on his own, the bandages removed. Ten days and he was training with an improvised bo staff. He was pleasantly surprised to see that their training revolved more around games and friendly competition than precise forms and repetitive regimes. He was thrilled to discover that he was easily the best at ninja hide-and-seek.

He began building, first a new battle shell and then a pair of goggles to hold the lenses of the glasses April had given him. He began modifying his bo staff to transform into different weapons, a flamethrower and a hammer and even popping out a blade at one end. He modified his battle shell to carry medical supplies and tools. His goggles could now analyze complex images and track heat signatures.

Donnie had never been creating so much. And everything - everything - was done in purple. He loved it. Couldn’t get enough of it. Because it was his, he alone had chosen purple as his color and now nobody could stop him from making his kneepads and bo staff and the rims of his goggles and everything he touched mauve or plum or lilac or mulberry because there were no consequences to it. Wearing the color still made him giddy. In purple, he was himself. Nobody made him wear it, and nobody made him stop.

Often someone would sit and chat with him while he built. His siblings would tell him gossip or ask about what he was building or explain some difference between the Hidden City and the surface world. Often they’d set up a Jupiter Jim or Lou Jitsu movie or turn on some mindless show to watch together while he worked. 

He baked a cake with Mikey and sat with him in front of the warm oven, reading and drawing. The decorating had quickly dissolved into a five-way frosting fight. He played video games and air hockey with Leo and quickly got better and better at Roads Racers and tried to figure out the magic tricks he showed him. He watched crummy detective TV with April and ruthlessly criticized the characters and proof-read her articles for the school paper. He trained with Raph and leaned back against him when they rested and watched wrestling and listened to his music. It was nice. It was safe.

While he enjoyed being around his family, this time spent together and open conversation gave rise to a new problem. Donnie had accidentally started a little game he liked to call ‘No, That’s What We Call Trauma!’ It always started with him telling a funny story about his childhood, or passingly mentioning something that he’d thought was a standard experience, only to look up and see horrified looks. This opened the door to such fun conversations as No Donnie, withholding food is not a common punishment, it can severely fuck you up physically and mentally, and No Donnie, having to settle conflicts for a crime boss since you were eleven is actually pretty messed up, and Holy shit you had to fight a what for training?!

It was great. Very fun. The first few times he’d gotten fidgety and uncomfortable, but as time went on and it kept happening, he just got exasperated.

“Is that weird again?”

Unlearning all of the horrible things he’d been raised to think were normal was exhausting. Donnie was exhausted. And every time they had to explain something that seemed like it should be so obvious, it felt like some weeds deep in his chest were uprooted, or like some crumbling wall he hadn’t noticed had been torn down. Sure, the weeds were bad, but he’d gotten quite used to having them there. Sure, the wall was crumbling, but maybe he liked it that way. Added a little rustic charm. At least he knew what to expect from a crumbling wall. But, no, it was a safety hazard, wasn’t it? Having the weeds cleared and the wall cleaned up was exhausting and unsettling but, then, things were cleaner. It would take some getting used to, but he had to believe it was really for the better.

But some nights, for some reason, he did miss those weeds. If only because he understood them. 

Donnie awoke with a jolt to an earth-shattering roar. He sat bolt upright, heart pounding. His room was dark, the entire lair quiet aside from the echoes in his head from the roar. His head spun with memories of the bear in the training ring. The healed wounds on his arms ached, his heart racing and adrenaline singing in every nerve. He couldn’t hear any chaos in the lair, but surely something had happened. That sort of noise didn’t come from nothing.

He was just beginning to wonder if he’d imagined it when it came again, twice as loud, three times as long. It sounded like the world was caving in. The very walls seemed to tremble at the noise. Something was wrong. Draxum had found them. 

Donnie stumbled from his bed. He snatched his bo staff from where it leaned against the wall. “Guys!” he shouted frantically, rushing to the atrium. “What’s going on? Is anyone hurt?” 

“Donnie?” Leo groaned, stumbling from his room. “What -?”

“Something’s wrong!” Donnie shouted, grabbing his shoulders, eyes wide. Leo instinctively jolted back, blinking rapidly in an attempt to wake himself up. “Where are the others? What’s that noise?”

“Don!” Raph cried, resting a hand on his shoulder. He turned sharply to see him and Mikey standing by his side, looking tired and confused. “We’re right here, what’s wrong?”

Donnie glanced between them. “Did you not hear -?” Again, a great roar echoed from above. He jumped and stumbled back, hitting the wall, eyes wide as he stared at the ceiling, terrified that it would cave in any second, followed by Draxum and whatever monsters he’d brought to ambush them. “That!”

Realization dawned on Leo’s face. “Don.” He rested his hands on Donnie’s shoulders. “Donnie, you’ve never been to the surface before, have you?”

“What?” Donnie dropped his confused, anxious gaze from the ceiling to his brother’s red-framed eyes. “Not really, no.”

A slow, relieved smile spread across his face. “So you’ve never heard thunder before?”

Donnie raised his eyebrows and looked up again. “ That’s thunder?”

“Oh,” Raph cried in relief, pressing a hand against his brow. “Of course, this is your first thunderstorm! I didn’t even think of that.”

“You couldn’t hear it in the Hidden City?” Mikey asked, tilting his head.

“I mean, I’ve heard people mention thunder,” Donnie said, straightening up. He dusted off his pajamas, now quite embarrassed by his display. “Like, in phrases and stuff. ‘Thunderous, heart thundering’, stuff like that. I just didn’t think it sounded like -” Again, the thunder roared above their heads. He flinched again. “Like that!”

“You’ll get used to it,” Mikey assured him with a smile. “We hardly even notice it anymore.”

Leo patted his shoulder distractedly. “Y’know, if you’re feeling up to it,” he said slowly, “maybe it’s time to show you the city tomorrow.”

Donnie looked up in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah, we’ve been cooped up in here for a bit,” Raph agreed, rolling his shoulders back with a grin. “I think we’re all ready to get out.”

“Why wait until tomorrow?” Mikey piped up, bouncing in place as he held up his phone. “The storm’s passing! Let’s go now!”

Leo and Raph smiled hopefully at Donnie. 

Donnie’s gaze drifted back to the ceiling as he hummed thoughtfully.

Twenty minutes later, the four of them were climbing the slippery ladder to the surface. Raph took the lead, then Donnie, Mikey, and Leo. Donnie was focusing on not slipping on the slimy grime on the rungs when a stream of water trickled over his head. He yelped in surprise and swatted it from his mask.

“Sorry,” Raph called down. “Rain, forgot. It’s a bit flooded out here.”

“It’s fine,” Donnie said, clambering out of the sewer into the alley as he checked his goggles. “Doesn’t look like anything was -” He paused as he stood. Water fell all around him. Of course, he’d heard of rain before. He understood the concept. He knew how it occurred and why. But he’d never actually experienced it. Donnie held a palm up, watching as the droplets gathered on his skin. “Huh.” He tilted his head back, staring at the sky. If he squinted, the falling raindrops made it feel like he was falling up.

“Oh,” he murmured. The rain was cold, a deep chill lingered in the air. He closed his eyes. The water soaked into his mask, trickling down his face. He took a deep breath of the cool, damp air. It stung his lungs. He loved it.

“We’ve gotta keep moving!” Leo prodded, grabbing his arm and dragging him to a fire escape. Donnie jumped, stumbling after him. “C’mon, we can’t let people see us.”

“Besides,” Mikey added as they all hurried up the rickety structure, “the best view is up here!”

Donnie was too focused on regaining his balance and keeping pace with the others on the slick metal to get a good look around the alley they’d emerged into. As they neared the top, Mikey stopped and turned around with a grin.

“Close your eyes.”

Donnie paused and frowned suspiciously. “I don’t like surprises.”

“I know, but you already know what it is! It’ll be super cool when you see it all at once, trust me!” Mikey pouted. “Please?”

Donnie sighed and pressed a hand over his eyes. “I hope you appreciate this.”

“Oh, I do,” Mikey assured him, taking his free hand and leading him up the last couple flights. “Ok, now. . .” He took Donnie’s shoulders and carefully angled him. “Open!”

Donnie removed his hand and blinked in the dimness. His eyes widened, jaw dropping. Before him rose a city of neon and glass, rising into the misty rain clouds. Bright color radiated from the windows, the street, from the very ground, reflected in the oily puddles. Graffiti art and posters were splayed on every surface. People milled on the sidewalks below, cars honked on the streets. Someone was playing guitar and singing on a street corner. Someone was unlocking the shutter over the entrance to their bodega, yawning as they entered and turned on the lights. Someone was eating a bagel as they walked and, as he watched, she tore off a small piece and tossed it to a pigeon at her feet. A group of laughing people passed just below them. 

“Well, there she is,” Leo said, a wistful smile on his face. “New York City.”

“What do you think, Donnie?” Raph grinned.

Donnie shook his head. He couldn’t get himself to speak. Could hardly form coherent thoughts. What could one say about something so big, so beautiful, so alive?  

“What a town,” he whispered. At that moment, the clouds parted. He looked up at the sky. The stars he’d read so much about were mostly drowned by the neon lights of the city.

It didn’t make the sky any smaller, though.

Donnie couldn’t wrap his head around how big it was. He felt like he could drown in it. His head spun with the sheer size of the dome arching above him, swallowing everything. His world really had been so small before. He’d never even thought to question it, but now? There was so much.

Donnie turned slowly, trying to take in every bit of the grey sky, when he spotted something between the buildings and paused. “What’s that?”

“That’s the Hudson River,” Mikey replied, scrambling onto Raph’s shoulder for a better view. 

“Can we get closer?”

Donnie was quick to catch on to their game of jumping from rooftop to rooftop, swinging from flagpoles, rolling when they landed, though none of them were faster than Mikey. In the five minute run, Raph warned everyone seven times that everything was slippery.

Donnie rolled to his feet after landing on the roof of a warehouse. He had to pause and catch his breath, which was embarrassing. It had been a while since he’d moved this much. He needed to get back into shape. Finally, he straightened up to follow everyone else’s gazes to the water.

“Whatcha think?” Leo asked, eyes fixed on the inky expanse of water.

Donnie’s gaze trailed along the river, down to where it wound away. “This goes out to the ocean?”

“Sure does,” Raph agreed. 

“And that’s just water? Forever?”

“Pretty much.” 

Donnie shook his head slowly. “It’s so. . . big,” he murmured. “And so dark.”

“The sun’s gonna rise in a bit!” Mikey said hopefully, bouncing on his toes. “Maybe we can stay and watch!”

“Hell yeah, we can!” Raph grinned.

Donnie nodded. “Yeah.” After another moment of silence, he shook his head in awe. “So big,” he repeated softly. Leo leaned on his shoulder. The four of them sat at the edge of the rooftop and talked about nothing in particular as they watched as the sky began to fade from soft navy to a watery grey, then pearly blue. Gold shimmered at the edge of the horizon.

“Don’t look right at the sun,” Raph warned.

Leo laughed. “Yeah, I think your eyes are screwed up enough.”

Donnie elbowed him with a wry smile before turning his attention back to the sky.

He’d heard about the sun. He knew it was a star in the center of the galaxy, knew it provided heat and light and energy to the planet. And it was amazing. He was careful not to look at it directly. He’d read enough to know that, but he couldn’t quite drag his eyes away either. It was warm and radiant and everything he’d imagined it would be. The blue sky above was brilliant, breathtaking. He could hardly catch his breath.

The others gradually stopped talking when tears began falling from Donnie’s eyes. None of them commented on it, but he appreciated the silence. 

An hour after they’d first sat down, he wiped his eyes and stood. “So,” he said with a grin. “What do we do for fun up here?”

Mikey squealed with excitement and somersaulted to his feet. “Follow me!” 

Donnie turned to follow him, then froze. He saw something out of the corner of his eye, something familiar in the recesses of his mind.

Orange and blue and green shipping containers were stacked in neat rows, forming walls and mazes and winding pathways. Donnie stared at a space in the middle, ringed by orange traffic cones and caution tape, where the concrete was still ripped up. He felt as though the vines were constricting around him yet again, the leering face of his master inches away from his, as he stared at the shipyard. Where Draxum had nearly dragged him back to the Hidden City, where he’d tried to kill him, where he’d captured him and crushed him until his armor was nothing more than a crumpled mess of scrap and - 

Raph rested a hand on his shoulder. Donnie jumped and looked back at him. He was looking at the same spot, face pensive and drawn. Mikey and Leo followed their gazes. Everyone looked tense.

“You alright, Don?” Raph checked quietly, meeting his gaze.

Donnie nodded. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry. Yes.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“I know, but - but sorry.” He shrugged and turned away from the shipyard. “Where were we going?”

The rest of the day was fun, but Mikey seemed distracted.

Donnie yawned as he trotted to the kitchen a few days later, scrolling through the phone that April had found for him. He’d refurbished it with relative ease, as well as upgrading everyone else’s. Leo had added him to the family group chat, but that wasn’t what he was looking at. He was scrolling through an article on new AI advancements, conversation bots and the like. He was so enthralled in the details that he almost didn’t hear the conversation in the gym.

“. . . have to tell Donnie!” Mikey said.

He froze just before the doorway, luckily still out of sight. He switched his phone off and pressed himself against the wall.

Leo sighed. “Mikey, we’ve been over this - he doesn’t need to know.”

“We can’t keep lying to him!” 

Donnie felt his chest tighten, eyes widening. They were lying to him? About what?

“We’re not lying! We haven’t provided any false information, that’s not lying!”

“We’re withholding information,” Mikey pressed hotly. “That’s the same thing.”

“It’ll just stress him out,” Raph interjected. “Anyways, he never asked!”

“He wouldn’t, because he trusts us! And now we’re lying to him about -” Mikey broke off, then lowered his voice. “About Draxum! ”

Donnie clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle a gasp. He felt sick. The world seemed shifty, like he was trying to stand on a tumultuous sea.

“It was weeks ago,” Leo pleaded. “Please, Mikey, just forget about it.”

“Forget?” he cried in dismay. “How could I possibly forget? He should know!”

“Why?”

“Because it’s about him! It’s important!”

“What should I know?”

Donnie didn’t even realize he’d stepped into the room or spoken until everyone turned to him in horror. He felt dizzy, distant. His hand gripping the doorframe was the only thing keeping him upright. 

“What should I know?” Donnie repeated in a shaky whisper.

Raph and Leo hesitated. That was long enough for Mikey to jump in.

“When we went back to the Hidden City for the antidote,” he said breathlessly, “Draxum caught us and when I told him you were dying and we needed to save you he - he let us go.”

Donnie’s stomach dropped. “What?” It was barely a breath.

“The gargoyles said he’d been looking for you since you left,” Mikey continued, tears welling in his eyes. Raph stepped forward to grab his shoulder, but Mikey shrugged him off.

“Gargoyles?” Donnie echoed, shaking. “You spoke to them? Did they turn you in? Is that why he caught you?”

“No,” Mikey said shakily, wiping his eyes. “They helped us get the stuff because they helped us get you out of the shipyard which I’m - I’m just realizing we also didn’t tell you.”

The world spun. Donnie’s thoughts were an amorphous blob, streaked with colors that were too bright and sounds that were too loud and emotions that made him sick. He leaned on the doorframe and pressed his free hand against his head. “He’s looking for me?” he whispered.

“Donnie,” Leo said slowly, reaching for his shoulder.

Something snapped in his chest as the realization hit him.

“Don’t!” Donnie yelped, wrenching himself from his reach. Everything seemed so bright, the colors sickly and saturated. Every breath smelled foul, nauseating. “You - you lied to me!”

Leo stepped back. He looked hurt - heartbroken, even - but Donnie could hardly register it. He had lied. They’d all lied.

“Donnie,” Raph said gently. “We were just trying to -”

“Trying to what ?” Donnie shouted, stumbling away from him. His back hit the wall. “To keep me here? To stop me leaving? To - to - you lied to me! ” He pressed his hands against his head, eyes wide with horror. “How - you - you promised! You never - I can’t - Why, why else would you lie? Why would you do that? What was all this, just some sick trick?” Of course it was. How could he have been so foolish? He never should have left. He should have trusted Draxum. They had been trying to get into his head, turn him against his Master, but he was looking for him! He wanted him alive and safe and they had lied!

“Don, slow down!” Mikey gasped, his voice squeaky with fear. “You’re going to hurt yourself!”

“Why do you care?” Donnie snapped. “You lied! You - he’s looking for me! He wants me to come back! He wants me alive! He wanted me back and you - you -” He dug his fingers into his skull. There was something in his head, something sick and dark and soft and if he could crack it open and dig it out it would all be better. “You took that away from me!” His voice cracked, his chest hurt, the world was screaming. “He wants me alive ! He cares about me, and you hid that!” 

“No!” Mikey insisted helplessly, wiping his eyes. “No, Donnie, that doesn’t - that’s not what love is! He hurt you!”

“He cares about me! He wants me back!”

“He hurt you!” Mikey shouted, shoulders hiking up. “He doesn’t love you! That’s not love!”

Donnie looked up sharply. “You don’t know anything !” he screamed. His voice echoed back off the chilled concrete walls, hollow and stark. “How the fuck would you know anything about either of us?” He stepped forward, fists clenching at his side. “It’s not like any of you were there! ”

Mikey stepped back, eyes wide with horror. “Donnie. . .”

“Hey, take a deep breath.” Someone grabbed his shoulder. He couldn’t tell who, whose voice it was, who was next to him. He whirled and pushed them away roughly.

“Don’t touch me!” he screamed, reeling back towards the open space of the doorway. He stumbled, the open space a void at his back, gravity nothing but a distant theory. He felt nauseous and vague, like he himself was nothing more than a thought, a bad memory, a nightmare. “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me, you lied to me! Everyone lies, why did you lie?” He knew there were tears running down his face, blurring his vision. “You said you wouldn’t lie!”

“Donnie!” Whoever it was sounded hurt. They were probably all hurt. He was hurting them. Everything hurt.  

Donnie turned and ran. He could hear the others calling after him, all ‘Wait!’s and ‘You shouldn’t go out alone yet!’s, but he didn’t heed the warnings. He couldn’t tell if they were pursuing him. He couldn’t stop to check. All he knew was that he was in danger. All he knew was that they lied. 

He sprinted through the sewer tunnels, scrambling around the sharp corners and ducking through the narrow openings. He finally found the ladder to the surface and scrambled up. His wrist caught in one of the rungs and twisted awkwardly, but he couldn’t stop. He had to keep moving. They couldn’t catch him.

Donnie heaved the cover off of the manhole and didn’t even bother to replace it before he was clambering up the fire escape, tripping and sprinting across the rooftops. His path was illuminated by the neon and streetlights around, streaking into nothing in his mad sprint. The city that had once been so beautiful and bright was now abrasive, assaulting, too bright and too loud and blurring in his tears and all dangerous.

He finally stopped when he rolled in a landing and couldn’t push himself to his feet in time to keep his momentum. He tried, but just fell to his side. He scrambled back behind a utility box and wedged himself into the corner between that and the rooftop door. Donnie curled up, gasping for air. He hugged his knees to his chest and buried his face in his arms. Tears were still running without pause, heart thundering in his ribs, breath heaving in rapid, shallow gasps.

They’d lied. They had lied to him.

Draxum was looking for him. He wanted him back. He wanted him alive and okay and back.

It was all Turtle had ever wanted, being noticed and appreciated by his Master. It was all he’d ever dreamed of. After a while with his brothers, Donnie had just assumed that Draxum had forgotten about him and moved on. He’d thought he had moved on to new projects, new experiments, something other than the disappointment that he’d turned out to be. But no. Draxum was actively searching for him.

And his brothers. His brothers had lied. They hadn’t trusted him with that information. Why? Why would they not tell him about that? It was important. He needed to know. Draxum was looking for him, and his brothers had lied about it. How could he ever trust what they said again? How could he believe anything they told him? How did he know they had ever been genuine? Maybe he had been right at first. Maybe he really was just a pawn in everyone’s game. They hadn’t wanted him to return to Draxum for fear of losing that pawn. How was he any safer with them than he’d ever been with Draxum?

No. Donnie corrected himself. Slow down a bit. They’d never hurt him. That alone was safer than Draxum. He dropped his hands into his lap and stared at his purple wristbands. Purple. Like him. His color. That was different. They let him be purple.

“Donnie!”

Donnie froze and burrowed himself further into the alcove where he hid. It was faint, distant, but definite. Raph was calling for him. As he waited, tense, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out to silence it.

NeonLeon: @DonTron where are you

NeonLeon: @DonTron Donnie I get it im so so sorry but please just let us talk

NeonLeon: Please you shouldnt be on the surface on your own yet @DonTron you could get lost where are you

NeonLeon: Donnie please im so sorry

NeonLeon: Are you okay

NeonLeon: @DonTron please

OhNoONeil: What’s going on?

OhNoONeil: @NeonLeon is everything ok? What’s wrong?

OhNoONeil: @DonTron what’s he talking about? Are you okay?

NeonLeon: @OhNoONeil call me ASAP

McMikey: Donnie please just tell us you’re okay

McMikey: @DonTron if you don’t want to see us that’s fine please just tell us you’re okay

McMikey: Donnie I’m so so sorry please just wait don’t do anything yet please

Donnie lowered his phone to his lap and rested his head back against the cold concrete. Raph was still calling for him in the distance. They were all afraid he was going to return to Draxum. That couldn’t be allowed to happen, apparently.

Some other part of his mind chided him for being so harsh. But he was tired. He was confused. He was scared. They had lied to him. What could he do? Who could he turn to?

He heard Leo, faintly calling for him in the distance. His voice was strangely hoarse. Donnie shuffled further into his hiding spot. He rested his chin on his arms and closed his eyes. His tears had long been spent.

Donnie sat in that alcove for a long time before he could be certain that they’d all left. The chat was still pinging with messages, April now joined in their pleas for some response from him. He couldn’t bring himself to look at them again. He stood, wincing at the stiffness from the awkward position, and made his way to the open rooftop again. The sun was just beginning to breach the horizon. He’d been in there for a while. They were still out searching for him, he was sure. He’d need to find somewhere safe.

Donnie ticked through his options as he walked. He had his staff, luckily, collapsed and tucked into his battle shell along with some tools and other junk. Donnie hadn’t been to the surface much, but he knew all the locations of the Hidden City portals. Draxum had been firm that it was essential knowledge.

Returning would be risky. Maybe too risky. But Mikey had said something else that Donnie had hardly even processed at the time.

He had to visit some old friends.

Donnie crouched low behind the trim on the roof of the theater. The lights were illuminating the ceiling purple again, just as he used to love. It was strange to think how exciting that used to be for him, how small his life had once been. He’d spared the display a wistful glance when he’d first dropped into the cavern, but now his focus was on the streets below. It was Thursday, which meant Draxum was in a gathering of the Hidden City’s authorities, which meant that Huggin and Muninn were out somewhere enjoying their night off.

Of course, that could be different now that Draxum was looking for him.

It was foolish to return, but Donnie couldn’t let this issue lie.

The softshell crouched over the relatively sheltered lookout post. He blended in quite well among the stone gargoyles lining the corners, as he scanned for the smaller, living gargoyles on the streets.

Score.

Two small black forms, bobbing along with the throngs. Donnie smirked, pleased with himself even in the midst of his stress. He’d had the foresight to track down the location of their favorite taco truck, on the corner just below him. It seemed he’d been correct in his predictions. Now just to get their attention without alerting anyone else.

Donnie shrank back behind the short barrier and bit his lip, glancing around. He could throw something? No, too risky, someone else could see. He couldn’t wave or call for the same reason. If only there were fewer people, maybe he could just sneak down, or whistle, or something. He could hear their voices vaguely below him now. He needed to act.

Muninn’s voice strayed up to him in a quiet second. “. . . loved those lights, huh. . .”

His eyes strayed to the floodlights splaying the purple light onto the ceiling.

Donnie took a deep breath and slid forward, sidling silently up the slight slant of the roof. The tiles were gritty and grimy, but he managed to ignore how the texture made his skin crawl. He reached for the dirty lens and held a hand over it. He glanced up. A sharp shadow was sprawled against the jagged stalactites. Three fingers. He grinned and waved his arm over the light, causing it to flicker against the stone, then held his hand out again.

He drew his hand back and waited.

“Mini-Boss?”

He turned at the familiar voice. Huggin and Muninn fluttered over the edge of the railing, eyes wide, jaws hanging open. Donnie straightened up.

“Hello.”

“Mini-Boss!” Muninn crowed, diving for his face. Huggin followed moments later. Both of them slammed into Donnie’s face with enough force that he stumbled back. “You’re okay!” He pulled back, grabbing his face. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” Donnie grunted, pulling away from the touch. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“C’mon, Mun, he doesn’t like touch,” Huggin said anxiously, fussing his friend away from the distressed teen.

“Sorry, sorry,” Muninn said hurriedly, fluttering back. “Just - geez, it’s good to see you!”

“Yeah,” Huggin grinned. “You look good, Mini-Boss. Really good.” He paused. “Or, no, it’s something else now, right? Donnie?”

Donnie smiled wearily. “Yeah, but. . . but you can keep calling me Mini-Boss. That’s fine.”

Muninn laughed. “Okay, good, because I wasn’t going to stop.” He paused and frowned, alighting on the railing around the roof. “Why. . . are you here?”

“Hey, yeah,” Huggin added, frowning at him. “Where are your brothers?”

Donnie sighed and slumped into a cross-legged position. “It’s complicated,” he mumbled.

The gargoyles glanced at each other. Huggin sat next to Muninn and shook out his wings. “We’ve got time.”

Donnie glanced away. He leaned over to rest his elbows on his knees. “I presume you witnessed my bothers’ attempt to find the antidote for the toxic vines?”

“Oh, yeah!” Huggin chirped. “We helped them!” 

“They only just told me that,” Donnie muttered. “That you helped them find that, that you helped get me away at the shipyard, and. . . and that Draxum let them go.”

A beat.

“Oh, shit,” Muninn murmured.

“And I asked!” Donnie added, throwing his hands up. “It’s not like they didn’t have a chance to tell me! They lied to my face, is what they did! And now, how could I possibly trust them?”

“Whoa, slow down,” Muninn cried, holding up his hands. “I mean, sure, that was pretty crummy of them to do, but do you think there’s a reason they did it?”

“Oh, I don’t know, to keep me there,” Donnie began, ticking off his fingers. “To keep me from seeing the full picture, so they could keep an eye on an enemy pawn, to make sure I didn’t get any ideas about returning to -”

“Mini-Boss,” Huggin interrupted. “You’re thinking of Draxum.”

Donnie paused and squinted at him. “Huh?”

“That’s reasons why Draxum kept stuff from you,” Huggin explained, leaning forward and resting his chin on his claws. “I know we haven’t exactly had time for a heart-to-heart with your brothers, but they don’t seem like Draxum.”

Donnie stared at him, then dropped his arms and looked away. “They’re not,” he muttered.

“Well, then, why would they hide it?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. But they did.”

“And you just found out? That’s why you’re back?”

Muninn frowned. “You’re not looking for Draxum, are you?”

Donnie shrugged again. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

He shook his head. “That’s a really bad idea, Mini-Boss.”

“Well,” Donnie snapped, “maybe it’s better than staying with people who lie to me about stuff like this!”

Muninn tilted his head. “So, you think they should’ve told you from the start?”

“Yes!” he cried, throwing his hands up. “Is that so much to ask?”

“Would you have reacted any better if they had?”

He scowled. “Whose side are you on?” he snapped, pushing himself to his feet. He stalked to the railing and slumped against it, glaring at the throngs of people below. “You can’t trust people who lie. That much, I know.”

“You’ve lied,” Huggin pointed out, turning to face the same direction as him.

“That was different,” Donnie muttered. “I lied for my own safety.”

“Well,” Muninn drawled, rolling onto his back, “maybe they lied for your safety, too.”

Donnie frowned but didn’t look at him.

Muninn sighed. “Look, Mini-Boss, people lie sometimes, okay? For a lot of different reasons. You lied for your safety. Draxum lied to keep you under his thumb. And I think your brothers lied to keep you sane.”

“Yeah,” Huggin agreed. “It’s the classic ‘means justify the ends’ thing.”

“It’s ‘ends justify the means’,” Muninn corrected. “Y’know, the whole wrong things for the right reasons. Classic drama trope.” 

“Exactly,” Huggin nodded sagely. “You’re a mess and a half after finding out and now you’re talking about finding Drax again because, what, he let them go once?”

“Yes?” Donnie cried, finally turning to them again. “Because he wants me back! He wants me alive!”

“‘Alive’ doesn’t mean ‘safe’,” Muninn said quietly.

Donnie paused for a beat. The silence was filled by the noise, laughter and chatter and shouts from the crowds below. It was like liquid, like the rain he’d experienced for the first time just a few days ago, falling into empty space and filling every crevice and crack in the air. He sighed and rested his chin on his arms.

“I don’t know if I’m safe with them, either,” he mumbled. “They lied. I can’t be safe with someone who lies.”

After another long bought of silence, Huggin sighed. “Look, Mini-Boss,” he muttered, “we don’t see eye-to-eye with your brothers on much. We still follow Baron Draxum and his whole thing.”

“Job security, y’know?” Muninn added, unhelpfully.

Donnie nodded.

“But, I think we all agree on one thing,” Huggin continued. 

Muninn nodded. “You should not go back to Draxum.”

Donnie sighed and looked away.

“You’re not safe with him, Mini-Boss,” Huggin pressed. “C’mon, you’re a smart kid, you know that. You shouldn’t go running back to him just because you got upset.”

Donnie frowned and straightened up a bit. “Why are you trying to keep me from going back?” he challenged. “If you’re still loyal to him, and he’s looking for me, why don’t you just tell him I’m here?”

Muninn sighed and rolled back onto his stomach. “We don’t want you to get hurt again.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “I mean, we watched you grow up, kid. There’s only so much we can watch you go through before it gets to be a bit much.”

“I’m honestly surprised you paid that much attention to me.”

Huggin shrugged. “We love to talk and you were just. . . there, I guess. So we talked, and you talked back, and that just kept on going,” he said thoughtfully. “We. . . well, I guess we care about you, Donnie.”

Donnie stared, eyes wide, brow furrowed. Something in him seemed to finally settle. He sighed and turned back to the scene before him. “Well, thanks, I guess,” he mumbled. “I probably would’ve died in that shipyard if it wasn’t for you.”

Muninn chuckled. “Don’t waste that effort by running back to ol’ Barry now.”

Donnie gave him a wane smile and returned his gaze to the Hidden City. “I’ll go back to my brothers.”

“Good,” Huggin sighed in relief.

They all stood in silence for a moment more. Donnie took one more look at the city, trailing over the buildings that he’d likely never see again. He looked at the Yokai and mythical monsters milling on the streets below him, the creatures he’d never fully belonged to but were more familiar than the humans above. He watched the magic sparking through the air, listened to the unique music that had sprouted in those streets like a weed. He took one long, final look at the city that had once been something of a home. He’d been kept imprisoned from those streets, yes, and often when he was out it was just to hurt or threaten others, but it was once his.

He looked up at the ceiling, the purple light shining above. He leaned back against the railing and held up one hand to the light, encased in a purple glove. 

Donnie could be who he wanted now. His brothers loved him. They had lied because they didn’t want him to hurt more. Sure, maybe they had inadvertently hurt him anyway, but it didn’t seem there was any way out of the situation where he wasn’t hurt. They’d done their best to ensure his safety and happiness.

Maybe he deserved that.

And maybe they deserved an apology. 

“I can try again,” Donnie murmured.

Muninn nodded. “That sounds like a good plan.” 

Donnie plodded to the other side of the roof, followed closely by the gargoyles. “This might be the last time we see each other,” he mused. 

“Oh, man,” Huggin groaned, dabbing his eyes. “Don’t say that!”

“If we do meet again,” Donnie pointed out, dropping to the alley below, “it’ll likely be as enemies.”

“I guess so,” Muninn sighed. “Doomed to be enemies, began as friends.”

“Classic tragic hero.”

Donnie turned to face the two of them, briefly turning his back on the entrance of the alley. “Well, then,” he said formally, “let me take this opportunity to properly say - thank you.” He shuffled his feet. “For being there, and treating me like. . . like me, and. . . and thanks.”

Huggin smiled. “Just take care of yourself, alright, Mini-Boss?”

“We don’t want all that work to go to waste,” Muninn added with a crooked smile.

Donnie smiled. “I will,” he promised. And even if he didn’t or couldn’t, he knew he had people who would help now.

Then, a new voice.

“There you are.”

Donnie felt his stomach drop. His heart fell, his head spun, everything seemed to go dark and hazy at the sound of that voice.

He turned slowly, trembling, eyes wide with horror.

Baron Draxum loomed at the end of the alley. The neon and soft yellow lighting of the street set him in stark shadows, comforting light splayed against a monstrous figure. His fists were clenched, shoulders drawn back, eyes cold and vicious, glowing with a triumphant glee that made Donnie sick. 

“Baron Draxum!” Muninn squeaked. “We were just about to come get you!”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, of course,” Huggin agreed, fluttering up to the roof again. “But, uh, seems like you’ve got it handled!”

Donnie turned betrayed eyes up to the two of them as they fled. All that talk, and they still turned tail and ran when he needed them. If either of them saw him, saw how much they’d hurt him, how much he needed them, neither of them paid any mind. Within seconds, they were gone.

Baron Draxum stepped forward. “Turtle. . .”

Donnie jumped back. He swept his staff from its compartment in his shell, twirling it to its full size and wielding it defensively before him. “S-stay back!” he shouted, eyes wide.

Draxum stopped moving. He tilted his head. “Impressive,” he mused, eyeing the weapon. “Did you build this yourself, turtle?”

Donnie shook his head. “That’s not my name,” he whispered shakily. “That’s not my name anymore. I have a name now. A real name.”

“Do you?” Draxum prodded. “What is it?”

Donnie wanted to lie, to hide it, to scream that he didn’t deserve to know his name. You don’t get this part of me, he wanted to shout.

“Donatello,” was what he said instead. 

“Donatello,” Draxum echoed with a faint smile. “It suits you. I’m glad you found one you like.”

Donnie didn’t respond. He didn’t move.

“Donatello, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

He squinted. “You have?”

“Yes!” Draxum cried. “I’ve been worried sick! Are you hurt badly?”

Donnie tensed again. “You mean, did you hurt me badly?” he hissed.

Draxum sighed. “Donatello, I understand now that I was too hard on you,” he lamented. “I see now, the error of my ways. I see that I hurt you.”

Donnie frowned. His staff lowered minutely. “What?”

“I only wanted to make you stronger,” Draxum continued mournfully. “I wanted you to reach your fullest potential. You must understand that!”

Donnie blinked and shook his head, shuffling back. He hadn’t even realized Draxum had stepped closer. “You hurt me,” he hissed. “That doesn’t make people stronger.”

“I understand your perspective,” Draxum continued, “but look at you! You are strong, are you not?”

Donnie hesitated. “I guess. . .” he murmured, frowning.

“You can’t argue with the results, tur - erm, Donatello.” Draxum stepped forward again. Donnie didn’t move. “I know you,” he continued quietly. “I am your family. I only ever wanted what was best for you. Please, understand that.”

Donnie hesitated, glancing away. “But you hurt me,” he repeated lamely.

“I overestimated your abilities,” Draxum half-agreed apologetically. “I let myself get lost in obtaining that strength. But now, Donatello, you have it! You are strong!” He stepped forward. Donnie, once again, didn’t pull away. “When you come back with me, things will be different. We will be ready to embrace our destiny.”

Donnie blinked. “Destiny?” he echoed, nearly a whisper.

“The destiny I’ve been planning for decades!” Draxum agreed with a triumphant grin. He moved forward. This time, Donnie did step back. His shell hit the wall with a dull, metallic thunk. “Finally, we will rise! Yokai on the surface, the rightful heirs of the earth! I, leading, and you,” he smiled with something almost like pride, something that Turtle would have killed to see in his master’s gaze, “you, Donatello, at my right hand, leading right alongside me.” 

Draxum stepped closer. Donnie tried to retreat, but only succeeded in cramming himself closer to the wall. They were too close together. His escape was effectively cut off, especially if Draxum utilized the seeds that Donnie knew were tucked into his sleeves. 

It was everything Turtle wanted. It was everything that, just a couple months ago, he would have killed for. Ruling the world at his master’s side, knowing that he was strong enough, the approval, the praise. Donnie stood frozen, back pressed against the brick wall behind him, as Turtle begged him to agree.

Was he strong enough to reject this?

Draxum wanted to rule the world with Donnie by his side. Together, they would conquer the surface. They would destroy anyone who stood in their way, they would raze cities to the ground - New York City, his city - they would conquer the humans - April O’Neil, his human, his sister - and none, young or old or good or evil or strong or weak, would be spared from the righteous might of Baron Draxum.

A wildfire.

Unpredictable, destructive, and blind.

“Donatello,” Draxum said quietly, extending a hand towards him. “Come home.”

Donnie took a deep breath and looked up. Tears welled in his eyes, his stomach twisted in fear, his chest felt full of lead, but he looked him in the eye. “No.”

Draxum froze. “What?” He didn’t even sound angry. Just surprised.

In thirteen years, Donatello - Turtle - whoever he was or had been - had never told him ‘No’.

Donnie stood up straighter, gripping his staff more tightly. “I said no ,” he repeated, more loudly. His voice bounced back from the walls around them, reverberating in the air. Nobody outside the little alley knew what was happening, the life that was collapsing, the child’s once-small world turning in on itself. “I said I won’t.” 

Baron Draxum’s gaze turned cold. He bared his teeth, shoulders hiked up. Whatever paternal kindness he’d been masquerading vanished in the moment between one unconcerned passerby and the next. “You dare defy me?” he snarled. “I, Baron Draxum, the one who created you? The one who raised you?”

“I dare!” Donnie replied hotly. He spun his staff from a defensive to offensive stance, the same way Draxum had taught him, the same efficient and skilled movements that had been sent against his enemies now turned on him. “I, Donatello, the one who builds, who creates, who is stronger than you, who is no longer afraid of you.” His voice rose, in pitch and in fervor and in volume, as he continued. “I am Donatello Hamato!” he shouted, unafraid and proud and angrier than he’d known he could be. “I am the third brother of the Hamato clan! I, the one who likes technology and science, who loves his brothers and is loved by them! I am Donatello!” 

Draxum stepped back in surprise. Donnie stepped forward, twirling his staff over his head.

 “And I am sick!” He swung the staff behind his back. “Of!” The ends of his staff bloomed into great heavy hammers. With all the strength he’d gained with his brothers and mastered under the baron, Donnie threw it.

“Your bullshit!” 

Fire flumed from the hammerheads on the ends of the staff. The weapon spun through the air, roaring with power. Draxum stumbled back as it spiraled away over his head. Donnie used the opportunity to leap with agility he’d spent years honing, springing from the ground to the wall to the rooftop again. 

Draxum snarled as he regained his balance and moved to run after him. Then, like some superpowered boomerang, the staff came spinning back. It smashed into the Yokai’s back, sending him sprawling on the ground with a great flash of purple.

Donnie whooped and jumped to catch the staff as it shrunk back to its functional size. “How’s that for useless human tech?” he jeered proudly. Draxum pushed himself to his knees, seething with rage. Donnie turned and bolted across the rooftop, ignoring the infuriated scream of rage that echoed behind him. Part of him ached, betrayal still tinging his heart, at the sound of that cry. The roots of the weeds were deep, clawing at the soil and refusing to be pulled. But the wildfire that was Baron Draxum had burned those weeds himself. The crumbling structures and choking weeds had been reduced to ash at his own volition. And now Donnie finally had room to move. Room to grow. 

Room to run . 

Donnie sprinted across the rooftops, down into the back alleys, the twisting old streets. People jumped and ducked away from him, shouting in annoyance before the crowd converged back on itself behind him. He ran and ran until he reached the ladder reaching up towards the swirling blue vortex above. Donnie jumped and scrambled up. He reached the portal and everything turned light and dizzying, like his brain was pumped full of static.

And then, he was rolling to his feet on the gritty asphalt of New York City. It was dark again. Donnie had spent the whole day skulking in the Hidden City, wallowing in his misery and then looking for the gargoyles. He didn’t know where his brothers and sister were, if they were out looking for him or waiting or what. But he knew he had to get home.

He spent no more than a few short minutes sprinting across the surface before diving under a sewer lid. Up from the Hidden City and down again to the underground, he thought as he walked briskly through the cold, damp tunnels. His pace slowed as he drew closer to home.

They would be angry. Undoubtedly. They’d want an explanation, they’d be mad at him for worrying them. Donnie wasn’t sure how to explain this, how to properly apologize.

But he didn’t stop walking.

He wanted to get home.

Donnie’s mind was still spinning with words as he stepped into the atrium. It was still tumultuous with half-baked apologies when he heard the soft voices echoing from one room. And, when he pushed the curtain aside to see everyone huddled on Raph’s bed, it was completely blank.

“We’ve looked all day,” Leo was saying tiredly, rubbing his eyes. “Right now, the best we can do is rest.”

“But Donnie’s still out there!” April insisted. “We need to keep looking.”

Donnie shuffled his feet and waited for them to notice him.

“We’re exhausted,” Raph sighed. “We can’t keep -”

Mikey gasped. “Donnie!” he cried, eyes widening.

Everyone gasped as they followed his gaze. Donnie shifted his feet and waved awkwardly.

“How long have you been standing there?” Leo cried in dismay.

“Not long,” Donnie mumbled.

“How did you -” Mikey shook his head in dismay. “You’re so quiet!”

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” April added, holding out her hands. “Where were you? We couldn’t find you!”

Donnie’s lips twitched with a small smile. “Yeah,” he said dryly. “Because I actually know how to be stealthy.”

Everyone stared at him.

Right. Bad time to joke. Noted.

Donnie cleared his throat and dropped his gaze. “I want to begin by saying I understand why you withheld the information,” he began slowly. His voice was clipped, formal, the same as when he’d delivered some report to Draxum. “I know you must have been worried about me, and for that, I apologize. Running away was irresponsible.”

“It’s okay, Donnie,” Mikey said softly.

“No, I - I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that,” he pressed. “I should have reacted more - more rationally. I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I know now that you weren’t trying to hurt me, either. I’m really, really sorry for yelling and acting like that.” He wiped his eyes roughly. “Two ‘really’s,” he added lamely.

“We get it, Donnie,” Raph assured him quietly. “You panicked, y’know? I get it.” He smiled ruefully and looked away. “Feelings get too big, sometimes.”

Donnie nodded briskly and cleared his throat again. He still hadn’t looked up. “Now, I know that I’m not in any place to be making requests,” he continued, voice wavering. “I don’t know if I’m in any position to be asking this, but I think it would be beneficial if. . .” His voice faltered.

“Donnie,” Leo said gently.

He finally looked up and met his gaze.

Leo smiled through his concern. “Just say what you’re thinking.”

Donnie stood for a moment, stock still. He lifted his arms halfway, hands shaking. “Could I. . .?”

In the next moment, he was engulfed in a hug. Everyone was crammed tightly around him, squeezing with all their might, as if afraid he’d disappear again if they let go.

Donnie broke down.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, burying his face in April’s jacket. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“We’re sorrier,” Mikey whimpered, clinging more tightly to him. “We never should have lied, Donnie.”

“Mikey’s right,” Raph murmured. “We’re so sorry, Donnie. We all promise, we won’t lie again. Ever.”

Leo bumped his chin against Donnie’s face. “Just don’t run off again, Dontron,” he added with a forced lightness to his voice, cracking with tears. 

“Yeah,” April mumbled, “we were worried sick.”

Donnie chuckled tearfully. “I won’t.”

They stood like that for a minute before clambering back to Raph’s giant bed. The mattress was swathed with hordes of plushes and stuffies, but Raph brushed them aside to make room for everyone else as he settled down.

Donnie curled up next to his side. Mikey snuggled against Donnie’s chest and wrapped his arms around him, tucking his head under his chin. Leo sprawled out on top of them. April rested her head against Leo’s chest, then reached out to take Donnie’s hand. 

It was safe here. Nothing could possibly hurt him here. Not even the truth.

Donnie took a deep breath. “I saw him,” he whispered, voice trembling.

Leo froze and shifted to look at him. “Draxum?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“I - I fought him,” he continued. “I told him no, and I fought him.”

After a moment, Raph’s arms tightened around all of them. They all snuggled just a little closer. Nobody said anything. Nothing needed to be said. He’d fought him, and now he was safe. He was himself. Donatello had defeated the monster who’d imprisoned him, and now he was free with his family.

And that was that.

Two weeks later, the lair echoed with laughter as the five of them trooped back inside.

“Man, that hippo didn’t know what hit him!” Leo cackled.

Mikey rolled to the front of the pack, turning to walk backwards. “And did you see that sick move I pulled off?”

“When you hog-tied him twenty feet in the air?” Donnie clarified with a grin. “Indeed, very impressive, Angelo.”

April laughed proudly. “And I scared him so bad when the lights went out!”

“Guess he needs to work on his fright of hand! ” Leo crowed. Everyone groaned in response. Leo bowed deeply.

“Nice hero work, everyone,” Raph lauded proudly. “We’re on the way to becoming real heroes at this rate!”

“We just stopped a mutant magician from robbing a jewelry store,” Donnie pointed out, flopping onto a beanbag. “I’d say we already are.”

April collapsed next to him and pulled out her phone. After a moment, some bright, upbeat music started playing from it. Donnie found himself tapping along to the beat, nodding with the drums and guitar.

“Oh, this is my jam !” Mikey cried, rolling to his feet. “C’mon, let’s get it!” He flipped into a couple breakdancing moves. “Oh, check me out!”

Everyone laughed. Leo joined him with a few embarrassingly bad moves of his own, then April and Raph.

“C’mon, Dontron!” Raph called brightly. “You can’t be the only one sitting down!”

Hesitantly, Donnie stood and joined them.

Donatello was still growing. He was still trying new things and exploring new interests and discovering new things about himself. Maybe it would take him a while to catch up with his brothers. Or, maybe, people never stopped growing. Maybe it was something that never stagnated. Like evolution. Constantly changing due to new factors, always adapting to new environments. Maybe he would never be ‘finished’ growing. But that was alright, because now, he was right where he was supposed to be. With his family, growing alongside his brothers.

Every day, Donnie learned something new about himself. And that day he learned he loved to dance.