Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Raph had been eight at the time. They had been playing football, or at least as much of a game of football as one play have without any goals or a strong grasp on the actual rules. It was more of a game of ‘tackle the person who has the ball as fast as humanly possible.’ Raph had been the reigning champ, much to Leo’s displeasure. His build gave him too much of an advantage at that age - something his brothers would never fully forget.

Donnie had just stopped trying to get Splinter’s attention for the day. If Raph remembered right, it was the day he fixed the recliner in the living room. Splinter had liked that, for what it was worth, and he gave Donnie a pat on the head before he was lost to the TV again.

The only reason Raph remembered that little detail was because Donnie would not stop bragging about it when he found them, swaggering into the main room like he had just met Jupiter Jim himself.

“Why’re you so happy Dee? ” Mikey asked, a cheerful note in his tone even as he was trapped beneath both Raph and Leo.

“Well, I’m glad you asked Angelo.” Donnie ahmed, trying to build up dramatic tension with a voice too young to hold any real weight. “Papa has acknowledged my greatness as his favorite son once and for all.”

“He did not.” Leo chimed in.

“Yeah too! He gave me a pat.”

“You just met his secret twin. Pop doesn’t do pats.”

“Yeah, he does! Just only to me.” Donnie smirked. “Cause I’m his favorite.” Then Donnie scrunched up his face like he smelled something foul. “And Papa doesn’t have a twin.”

“Does too.”

“Does not! And if he did I would know because I would be his favorite too!”

Raph would be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous at the time. He was still on top of Mikey, Splinter's previous favorite, and clutching the football he had just pried from said turtle's fingers. The football that was starting to give under his grip.

He was too young to calm the emotion boiling in his chest.

“Donnie! Catch!”

Leo met his eyes and nodded. Raph nodded back, more on instinct than actually knowing about whatever was about to happen. Well, he had the first step at least. Throw the ball.

Donnie didn’t catch the ball. That was why they never invited Donnie to play; he was just absolutely miserable at sports. It didn't help that Raph wasn’t properly controlling his strength.

It didn’t matter though. Leo jumped up and slammed the ball back down to Donnie. The dazed turtle less caught the ball and more let the ball fall into his arms. Donnie blinked. Leo smirked.

Ah, that was the plan.

Raph was too young to know that he couldn’t bodyslam Donnie the same way he could Leo or Mikey. He liked to think that, if he had known, he wouldn’t have done it. He would have been responsible and left Donnie out of their game.

Whether that's true or not doesn’t really matter.

What does matter is that he hit Donnie square on with all the force of a pro wrestler. Or at least all the force of a eight-year-old snapping turtle with a bit of a temper. Leo jumped on him right after, grasping at the ball Donnie had reflexively clamped down on. Mikey was probably there too, scaling around on his shell like a hyperactive spider as he looked for an opening.

And then Donnie screamed.

Raph jumped away from him like he had been burned. Mikey was brought along as well, the sudden scream making him clamp down on Raph’s shell. Donnie was still curled around the ball, but something about him was wrong. He was gasping. Pale. Tears were gathering at the corners of his eyes.

Raph figured he was faking after a moment. He had done the same thing to Mikey a million times, and Mikey was always fine despite being much smaller than Donnie. Mikey never screamed like that. Donnie was definitely faking.

“Donnie that's not how you play,” Leo spoke first, tone teasing and light. Maybe there was a shake there, but Raph didn’t hear it. Because Leo was confident. He had to be. Because Donnie was definitely faking and he would have to be a total dum dum to fall for it.

“Yeah, Donnie. Get back up. You gotta pass the ball.”

Donnie curled in on himself more.

“Come on Donnie!” Leo said, walking over to him and poking his shell. “It's not a screaming game; it's a football game. You just have to catch the ball and not let us get it, and then pass it to someone else. Haven’t you played before?”

“G-guys... I don't think he’s faking.” Mikey stayed behind Raph. His eyes were wide and locked on Donnie’s form.

“Sure he is Mike,” Raph spoke, “I didn’t hit him that hard. He should be fine.” But did he? He hadn’t really been paying attention to his strength. Had he done something wrong? No he hadn’t. Leo was confident so he hadn’t. He… couldn’t have...

Panic was worming its way into his gut, blowing out all the anger in favor of gut-wrenching anxiety. Oh, the hand Leo was using to poke Donnie’s shell was shaking and Donnie wasn’t moving. Well, he was moving. He was shaking and curling in on himself but he wasn’t getting up. Why wasn’t he getting up? He had already made his point.

“Hey, Donnie the bit is over now. It's not funny.” Leo’s voice was shaking. He wasn’t confident and that realization was enough to solidify another knot in Raph’s stomach. “A-and bit’s are my thing so you should really get up before I sue.”

Raph walked forward. He was certain that it only took a few seconds to get there, but it felt like an eternity. Donnie was still on the ground that eternity later.

“Donnie? Donatello?” Raph tried. The panic was rising to his throat, and he had to struggle to get the words out around it. “H-hey what's wrong? You need to get up now.”

The world was getting blurry and it took Raph a second to recognize the wetness gathering in his eyes. He could barely see the crumpled form of his brother in front of him. His younger brother. The younger brother he had hurt.

Mikey wasn’t behind him. There was a banging from the other room, the strange sound of the TV shutting off as Splinter was pulled into the room. Mikey yelling.

He watched through blurry eyes as Splinter ran to Donnie, shooing away a similarly panicked Leo as he crouched at Donnie's side. Splinter whispered something. Splinter said a word he had never taught them. Splinter wasn’t in front of him anymore. He had already carried Donnie towards the medbay.

Raph was still on the ground, useless and panicking. He made eye contact with Leo. Neither of them nodded. He could see the horror in Leo’s eyes. The blame. The unasked questions.

Raph wished he had said something, rattled off any of the answers he had thought up in the years after the fact. It wasn’t their fault. They couldn’t have known. Donnie would live - he would heal. He wouldn’t play with them for a while or look them in the eye, but that was okay. He wasn’t mad. He was never mad.

But Raph didn’t say anything - not for the rest of the day. They didn’t play for the rest of the day either. Leo made a shaky attempt at starting up another game, a less physical one this time, but Raph wasn’t in the mood and Mikey was glued to Splinter’s side.

He sent Leo away so he could brood alone in his room; and by brood he meant smash.

His room was in tatters by the time Splinter came to get him. Maybe drawn by the noise. He was probably just done helping Donnie.

“Red, I am not getting you a new bed if you break that one.”

Raph looked at Splinter; not directly in his eyes but in the general direction. He would get him a new one, he had even known that at the time. The words were almost a challenge to break the bed in the end - to see how long Splinter would let him share Mikey’s bed before he caved in - but he wanted a reason to stop anyway. The smashing had helped nothing except now his fists were sore and he felt more tired. Donnie would say tired was insufficient for the emotion dragging him down - practically a brick of concrete on both his feet - but he didn’t know any of Donnie’s fancy words do tired would have to do.

Raph dropped the bed frame, letting it crash to the floor. It was loud, but it didn’t break. Not irreparably anyway. He turned away from Splinter before he could see whatever emotion was on his face. Disappointment maybe? Raph looked at the wall instead. It hadn’t even dented when he punched it, but it was cold and hard and it didn’t curl up under his strength like Donnie had so it would do.

“I’m going to have to get you a punching bag aren’t I. Or at least reinforce your furniture”

There was a metallic clang as Splinter kicked something behind him. Debris from his rampage. Splinter was probably surveying the damage - judging him for it - but Raph didn’t want to explain himself. He didn’t talk. Let Splinter come to whatever conclusion he wanted to. He deserved it.

“N-not that there's anything wrong with that! In fact, when I was your age, I had my share of anger as well.” Splinter forced a chuckle. “In fact, I would go through two bedframes per day - no - three bed frames. My grandpa would beg and beg for me to stop, but I was just so angry I couldn't help it. Just so angry at school! And - um - relatable turtle things?”

Raph still didn’t speak. Splinter was a terrible liar.

Splinter laughed. It couldn’t have been unease he heard in his tone because Splinter had no reason to be nervous. Well, Raph was a reason now wasn’t he? He was a danger, and Splinter probably knew that now. He just came in to remind him that. Maybe Splinter would tell him to keep away from the others - it was only a matter of time before he hurt them too.

Splinter waited before speaking again. Maybe for Raph to move or respond, but eventually he gave up on both. “...Purple is alright, you know. It was not a large injury, a bit of bruising is all.”

Raph wanted to ask why Splinter would tell him, but anything he said threatened the tears and emotions he was already beating back so he remained silent. He wanted to smash something.

In the coming years, he would learn to cry better. Not better maybe - still open and raw in all the ugly ways crying tended to be - but openly. Safely. In the comfort of broken company and late-night reruns. But he didn’t cry when he was that young. That was Donnie’s job. And when Donnie stopped crying he would pick up that slack but for now, he didn’t cry. He was the oldest, and the oldest didn’t cry.

Splinter was still at the door; just standing there. Thinking back, Raph would chalk it up to confusion. In the moment, it just felt like scorn.

“I will… be here... Raphael.” The words sounded rehearsed in all the wrong ways. Like Splinter had been thinking of them for ages but never considered he would actually have to say them. “If you want to… talk. Or smash something. I am quite an expert in that.”

Raph still didn’t speak, and eventually, Splinter walked away. Some part of Raph wanted to stop him then; most of Raph did really. Most of Raph wanted to turn heel and run towards him, cry into his fur and scream about what a monster he was. About how he almost killed Donnie. And then Splinter could tell him that it wasn’t his fault. That Donnie was fine. That everything was alright. That he wasn’t a monster.

But Raph didn’t move, and Splinter was already gone.

Chapter Text

Leo didn’t like to reflect on the past as much as Raph did. In particular, he didn’t like thinking about the incident. He didn’t like to spend his time thinking of all the ways he could have acted better for next time. He didn’t like to think of it at all if he could help it. Those recollections were mostly reserved for sleepless nights and the aftermath of particularly bad arguments.

Even on those nights, he never tried to recall too much of the preamble to the incident; he never really wanted to.

He was playing some game with Raph and Mikey in the living room. He was letting Raph win of course, because if he was really trying then he would definitely have won every game they had ever played. It didn’t matter that Raph was twice his size. He could totally take him. Totally.

Donnie never liked to play games with them. Leo had tried pressuring him into it plenty of times, but Donnie was usually too busy trying to impress Splinter. He did that a lot at that age - taking a month to study electrical engineering and fixing up anything and everything around the house so Splinter wouldn’t have to go topside to get something new. Donnie never liked dad going topside at that age. They didn’t like it either, of course, but you didn’t see them picking up a ‘coding for dummies’ book.

Donnie had said something. It had been ridiculous, but not a lie. Leo wasn’t sure Donnie knew what a lie was when he was younger. He reacted to them like a confused robot finding conflicts in its software. It was hilarious.

So whatever he said probably wasn’t a lie. Leo wasn’t quite sure what it was though. All Leo really remembered was a flustered anger. Jealousy maybe. Something that sparked and simmered in his chest like a firework.

He looked at Raph and nodded. He had a plan. There was a place for the emotion in his chest - an outlet.

“Donnie! Catch!”

Raph threw the ball too hard, but Donnie was never gonna catch it anyway. It slipped out of his hands and right to Leo, and from there it was easy enough to just shove it into the dazed turtle's hand. Then Donnie was replaced with a charging Raph, and both of them fell to the ground. Then Leo was in the pile too, and Mikey was somewhere behind him and Donnie was off his high horse.

Mission successful.

Except Donnie wasn’t moving; and apparently he had learned to lie really effectively in the last few minutes because Leo started to believe he was really hurt. But he wasn’t. He couldn’t have been. Raph had done that to him and Mikey a hundred times, and sure it hurt a little but not that much. They always got up after, so Donnie would too. Maybe he just didn’t know how to play.

“Come on Donnie! It's not a screaming game; it's a football game. You just have to catch the ball and not let us get it, and then pass it to someone else. Haven’t you played before?”

Maybe it was a joke, but it wasn’t a funny joke, if that's what he had been going for. And besides, jokes were his thing. He called dibs already. Just because Donnie was his twin didn’t mean he could just ignore dibs.

“Hey, Donnie the bit is over now. It's not funny.” He remembered his voice shaking. Why had it been shaking? He had been so sure that Donnie was just faking. “A-and bit’s are my thing so you should really get up before I sue.”

Donnie didn’t move. Not when Raph talked. Not when he yelled. Not when Mikey ran out of the room. He didn’t move when Splinter called his name either. Not purple, but his real name. He didn’t move. He was just there. On the ground. Not moving.

Why wasn’t he moving. He was a bad liar. Leo could see right through him. He wasn’t a dum dum. Donnie knew that, so why wasn’t he moving.

Leo felt his thoughts buzzing already, pinging around just under the surface of unconsciousness in a tangled mess of panic and blame. It was his plan - his idea. Raph was just going along with it. Of course the blame was his.

What had been his plan - what had it been for? What had warranted any of this? It all felt so distant. Why wasn’t Donnie moving.

Oh. Donnie was already gone. Probably moved to another room by Splinter. Raph was still there. They were alone in the room. Mikey had probably followed Splinter and Donnie out. That was fine. That was understandable.

Leo remembers Raph’s eyes in that moment; wide and unfocused with a silent terror. There were no answers in those eyes. No explanation to whatever just happened. Leo didn’t think Raph released tears were gathering in his eyes. Leo barely realized he was crying himself, so there was no way Raph noticed his own tears.

“H-hey.” His voice was still shaking, but it was enough to make Raph’s eyes focus on him. There was something in his eyes. Leo did his best not to interpret it as blame. “Are y-you okay?”

Raph was there, but too far away. Leo knew that was illogical - Raph was only a step away - but Raph his eyes were somewhere else. He needed to be closer. Or Mikey. Or someone. He just needed someone to be closer. To not be afraid. To not be hurt.

“...Do you want to play a different game?” Raph looked at him, and he tried not to take the silence personally. He tried to ignore the shake of his voice. He really, really tried. “ I bet I could find some paper for tic-tac-toe. O-or we could… do something else?”

Ralph didn’t say anything. Leo tried not to take it personally. It was a really lame suggestion, wasn't it. Yeah, Raph had always liked the more physical games hadn’t he. He could win at those.

“A-are you not in the mood? Yeah. Yeah. That's fair. I’m not really either-” how could he be- “so do you want to watch a movie? I think pops is done with the TV for the next bit-”

Raph didn't say anything. There was something new in his eyes though, and Leo had seen Raph angry enough at that point to recognize it as a threat.

Raph stood up (they had been on the ground?) with a decisiveness and purpose that completely ignored the daze from before. Leo barely had enough wits in him to scramble out of Raphs way before he was trampled. Raph wasn’t paying attention to him anyway. He was far away - too far - but Leo knew better then to ask him to stay.

And maybe Leo was still allowed to be scared of that look in his eyes, even if Raph had just been following his plan. He was allowed to be frozen for a second as Raph stomped away. He was allowed to not go after him. To not move for a while. To just sit there.

No one came to get him; Leo remembered that part clearly. It felt like he sat there for an hour - though he knew it couldn’t have been - and no one came for him. Tears streamed down his face. He did nothing to hush his sobs but no one came. No one called his name. No one checked to see if he was okay. Leo tried to suppress emotion that rose in his chest at that - some mixture of disappointment and dejection. Abandonment maybe.

It still came out in his sobs, spurred to the surface by the rampaging emotions in his chest. He wanted to scream.

He did not want to be alone.

Looking back, Leo didn’t know quite why he went to the medbay of all places. Wherever Raph went was out of the question of course, but the TV room was open. He thought he heard Mikey in there, and Mikey was usually the best at making him feel normal again. Well, maybe he hadn’t known that at the time.

He went to the medbay instead. Maybe he wanted to see what he had done. Maybe he wanted a captive audience. Maybe he wanted Splinter to be there. Maybe he wanted Splinter to tell him that it was alright - that it wasn’t his fault (even if they both knew it was a lie) -that he still loved him (but he knew that wasn’t going to happen, even at seven. Splinter liked to leave his love implied for the most part). Maybe he just wanted to take the longer walk.

Splinter was not in the medbay; or Leo didn’t think he was. Maybe refusing to look up from the ground for more than seconds at a time was hampering his ability to actually check that, but he couldn't bring himself to risk meeting anyones eyes so his guess would have to do. That, and he wasn’t sure if the redness had completely dissipated yet and he really didn’t want to give anyone a reason to leave.

No one wanted to hang around a cry baby.

Well, Splinter would have to come back soon. He wouldn’t leave Donnie alone for too long if he was hurt. He could just wait.

He assumed Donnie was on the bed. He could hear the rustle of blankets, and the part of him that hopped Donnie was already asleep died a little. Donnie didn’t say anything and whatever Leo wanted to say died in his throat. So silence it was then. At least he wasn’t alone. Leo sat in the chair next to Donnies side, staring at the blanket.

He remembered that blanket. It was an old one - twine but not scratchy like the other ones they had. It was easy to clean with water, and it never stayed wet long. It was light blue and subtly patterned. A few years later Mikey took it to use as a painting cloth, staining it red and black and whatever other colors he could get his hands on.

“Are you going to laugh?” Donnie asked while he was midway though tracing the blanket’s pattern, making him jump. “That's why you came right? So laugh already. Get it over with.”

Leo looked up - only for a moment - before forcing his eyes back to the pattern. “Why would I laugh?”

“Cause I cried.”

“You didn’t cry. You screamed Don.” The lines on the blankets had bent into crosses, intermediated with dots. “There's a difference.”

“Not a big one.”

Leo laughed a little. It was a forced thing that got stuck in his throat, but a laugh. “I thought you were the science expert. There's a big difference. One involves water coming out of your eyes.”

“Both are a response to pain.”

Leo scrunched up his face. The dots on the blanket were turning into lines. “Yeah, but yelling is loud and crying is quiet.”

“They don’t have to be.” The blanket rustled, and Leo lost his spot on the pattern. “And what does it matter? You can make fun of me either way.”

“I won’t make fun of you for crying cause you screamed.” Leo said, still not looking Donnie in the eye. “And I won't make fun of you for screaming cause I’m not a bully.”

“Aren’t you?”

Leo flinched a little, speaking with a conviction he didn’t really have. “I’m not.”

“And how do I know that?”

“I’m your twin.” Leo smirked. It was a fake smirk, but it felt better then whatever sullen expression he had on before. “Telepathy.”

There was a beat of silence. “We are not twins Leo.”

“We have the same birthday; in the same year!”

“... We’re not the same type of turtle.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does Leon.” The force in Donnies voice made Leo look up.

Donnie was crying; a hushed sob shoved between his words and Leo was lost again. His smirk fell. He had thought it was just a pleasant conversation. He had thought he was cheering him up. He thought he was making up for causing the whole situation - just a little maybe. No - of course he was making it worse instead. That's all he was doing today. What did he say? What happened? What did he do wrong?

Donnie curled up into himself, pulling the blanket away from Leo again. “I’m not… I can’t…” Donnie took a deep breath through his tears, doing his best to keep a clear head. “I’m a softshell Nardo.”

Leo appreciated that that was supposed to mean something - he really did - but he had no idea what it was supposed to mean. Maybe that was just another way he was grossly inadequate to help Donnie. Shell when was Splinter getting back. “A soft… shell?”

“It means I’m weak Leo.” Donnie’s breath hitched, anger trembling in his voice. “It means I get hurt because my stupid shell isn’t right.”

“I…” What did he say to that? What was he supposed to say? “Not... not right? Shells can be wrong?”

“Mine is.” Donnie was too young for the cynical note in his voice. Or the hate dripping off his words. He was too young. “It’s the reason I get hurt.”

“H-hey! That's not true.”

Donnie snorted. “How would you know. I’m the science expert - not you.”

“I-” he didn’t know- “I just know okay. That's not why you got hurt.“ Leo took a shaky breath. “You got hurt because of my plan, not your shell.”

“Plan?”

“M-me and Raph. We agreed to tackle you… as…” Leo tried to think of a way to phrase it that didn’t sound petty. He failed. “Revenge. We were just…”

Leo was looking down at his lap again, fists clenched as he waited for judgement. For anger. For whatever the punishment was. Dad would have one too. He had been planning to lie about it really - had wanted too at least - but he had already done enough wrong anyway. Maybe he would lie about it to dad; if only for the false assurance that he had done nothing wrong. Unless Donnie snitched, of course.

“That wasn’t a plan. That was how you play the game Leo. You tackle people.” Donnie did not appreciate how hard it was for him to be honest did he?

“No it's not. I-I pushed the ball into your hands D-Don. I’m pretty sure that’s against the rules.”

Leo looked up. Donnie was curled in on himself again, staring at his hands. “Leo, if my shell was right that wouldn’t have mattered. Don't you get it?! It shouldn’t have hurt me at all? I’m supposed to be stronger than that - I’m a turtle - my shell is supposed to do something why doesn’t it -” Donnie took another breath. “It wasn’t supposed to be able to hurt me, Leo. I’m supposed to be able to take that - to play games like that. I’m not supposed to…”

Looking back, Leo had a million prepared responses. He had helped Donnie though too many bad nights not to have the right answers. What Donnie wanted to hear was that he was just like them. That he made up for his shell - that he was more then it - and they loved him regardless. That they didn’t look down on him.

Perhaps there was a more truthful opinion there; that there was nothing for Donnie to make up for. That his shell gave him its own advantages and there was no need to work harder to overcome it like it was a weakness. It was a strength. It drove him to invention - innovation. It gave him a reason to work and learn in a way the rest of them were never able to - either by lack of focus or intrest. But he had the investment to focus; an ability trained from necessity and pride. Maybe that was a strength in itself.

Of course, Leo didn’t have any of these answers at the time. He would have loved them. He would have killed for the right words to say - to do anything but gape like a fish as Donnie looked down at his hands. He would have killed for any of what Donnie said to make sense to him, to magically understand whatever argument Donnie was making. To understand whatever the right answer was - whatever he had to do to stop messing everything up.

But he didn’t. So he settled with refuting what he did understand.

“... that doesn’t mean you’re not my twin.”

Donnie sighed, a disappointed laugh curling out of his throat. “We’re back to this again? It’s irrelevant. Do you not get what I’m trying to say -”

He didn’t, but Donnie didn’t need to know that. “You’re my brother then. Can we at least agree on that.”

“... are we?” Donnie laughed, and it sounded just as wrong as everything else he was saying. “I mean… I can’t play games like you. I can’t fight or wrestle or play or… anything…”

That was, quite possibly, the stupidest thing Donnie had ever said. “Yes. Yes we are brothers Donald.”

“But we're not the same species of turtle.”

“That's irrelevant.”

“No, it's not!”

“Yes, it is!”

“No Leon. It's important!”

“Not to me!” Leo cut himself off there, expecting Donnie to but in again. Donnie didn’t speak. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if your shells wrong or if you can’t play with us or whatever. If you can’t play then you can’t play. You're still my twin.” Ah wait Donnie hadn’t conceded on that one yet. “And my brother, of course. No stupid shells gonna change that.”

Donnie was still crying and looking into his eyes was feeling more intimidating by the second. The blanket was still interesting at least, even if it was balled up in a pile and the pattern was a little obscured.

There was a beat of silence. Donnie’s breathing started to even out. Leo chose to take that as a sign that he said the right thing.

“So is it… bad?” Leo’s foot was bouncing against the floor.

“Is - oh…” Donnie knocked lightly on his shell, testing the waters. “Papa said it was just some bruising…”

“You screamed that loud over some bruising?”

Donnie glared at him. “I thought you were going to drop that!”

“Right, right - I dropped it. It has been dropped.”

Donnie looked unconvinced. The smile forming on his face probably wasn’t helping. “Yeah you try getting a bruise under your shell - it hurts!”

Leo smiled; something slightly sheepish and disarming to over through the guilt in his chest. Why wouldn’t he feel guilty? He had put Donnie in the medbay, brought on what seemed to be an existential crisis, and for what? Nothing. Some petty thought so irrelevant that he had already forgotten it. Maybe it was even worse than that. He could feel relief in his chest - a subtle fluttering thing - that Donnie was too busy blaming himself to care that it was his fault. And what kind of monster was he to feel that way? To watch his brother question his place in the family and feel relief.

Maybe if Leo knew it would become a habit, he would have stopped it then.

But for now, it was fine and Donnie had stopped crying. Leo allowed himself to be selfish; to ignore the guilt pounding in his chest and fall into a shallow relief. Donnie probably wanted alone time, but he didn’t so Donnie would have to suffer his company. At least until Splinter came back

He fell asleep at Donnie's bedside, still waiting for Splinter to get back.

Chapter Text

Mikey had been playing games with his brothers when it happened.

He was losing. He always seemed to lose games when they were younger; something about being small or pulling his punches. Leo had called him on it before, but he could never bring himself to go all out. He knew too much about being hurt to actually try and hurt his brothers; even for a game.

So he was losing when Donnie walked into the room. Donnie looked happy, and Mikey had been emotionally aware enough at age 6 to pin that as an abnormality for the purple turtle.

“Why’re you so happy Dee?” He couldn’t help the happiness in his tone as well. Other people's emotions were just too contagious. Whatever had gotten Donnie to smile had to be exciting.

“Well, I’m glad you asked Angelo. Papa has acknowledged my greatness as his favorite son once and for all!”

He sounded so excited that Mikey couldn’t help laughing before the words registered. Then they did, and nothing much really changed. He had always been dad’s favorite, and if Donnie was also his favorite now that just meant they would be favorites together. Dad had two favorite sons. Wasn't that fun.

Mikey cringes at that memory sometimes - at the childish thought. Donnie would definitely have a lecture ready for him on the definition of ‘favorite’. Even if he didn’t, Mikey would have a lecture for his past self about how all of them were dad's favorites. In different ways maybe, but favorites nonetheless. So he had four favorites, not two.

Well, Leo and Donnie had started with their usual banter. Leo tended to do that whenever Donnie was away from dad, pulling Donnie into a conversation that ranged from playful banter to full-on screaming. It was fun to watch the former at least. The latter usually ended with him getting dad (hopefully before Raph tried to placate them and ended up getting dragged into it. Raph tended to yell the loudest of all of them).

Something happened in that time - the banter - that did something because Raph wasn’t on top of him anymore. He wasn’t holding the football either. Donnie was, despite not playing the game. How he got the football with his abysmal sport skills was beyond Mikey. But he was holding it. Donnie, apparently, didn’t have time to process that he was holding it either because the next second Raph was on him. Then Leo.

Mikey might not have been good at winning the game, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to play. He was on Raph's shell in a second, jumping from place to place and looking for an opening.

He was about to find one when Donnie screamed. He froze on Ralph's shell. He could barely see Donnie, stuck underneath the pile. He looked pale.

That's all he saw before Raph jumped back, bringing him along.

It was common for Donnie to scream at that age. Not when dad was home maybe, but Mikey had seen him screaming at his books before (Mikey never understood why. Maybe the pictures were boring). He had screamed at Leo too - usually out of frustration. Dad had caught him yelling at Leo before - something about him borrowing his toothbrush - and chewed him out for a good hour about inside voices (at least when his program was on). Donnie stopped yelling when dad was home after that. Or, well mostly.

But this scream was strange.

It wasn’t frustrated or angry like Donnies screams usually were. It was raw and torn in a different way - a realer way - that froze Mikey were he perched.

It didn’t freeze Raph the same way though, and he was moving. They were farther away from Donnie in an instant, and Mikey was stumbling off Raph's shell, eyes locked. Donnie wasn’t moving. That didn’t make sense.

He wasn’t moving - not like how Leo played dead sometimes to freak him out or how dad got when he was too invested in a program - no. Donnie wasn’t moving. Something was wrong. He was curled in on himself. His skin looked placid. He was biting his lip. Something was wrong.

Leo started poking him. Hesitant maybe. Harmful probably.

“Come on Donnie! It's not a screaming game; it's a football game. You just have to catch the ball and not let us get it, and then pass it to someone else. Haven’t you played before?”

Was he faking? Leo seemed to think so. Raph was leaning that as well. Maybe he was then. His brothers were smart, and if Donnie had (suddenly and without warning) decided to take up Leo’s pranking habits then he would definitely look really dumb if he fell for it. There were already enough excuses for his brothers to make fun of him (aside from him just being the youngest) so maybe he should just play it safe.

But that scream felt like it was still echoing in the lair and dread was pooling in his stomach.

“G-guys... I don't think he’s faking.”

Raph glanced back at him. That made enough sense, but the fear didn’t. Not on Raph. It was unnatural. He had seen Raph scared, sure, but there was something different in the wide-eyed horror on his face.

He was not in control of the situation. He didn’t know what was happening; and if Raph didn’t then Leo probably didn’t. None of them did.

The feeling in his stomach twisted, knotting itself into a toxic sickness in his stomach.

They were not in control of the situation.

Raph was moving closer to Donnie, and Mikey hesitated between running and trying to help. It took him less than a second to decide that, as a 6 year old, he was in over his head. He wasn’t going to risk his brother because he didn't want to get them in trouble.

He ran out of the room as soon as he could feel his legs again.

His first thought was the living room - but no. Dad broke his recliner that week hadn’t he? Did he go topside to fix it? Oh please, not that. Please, please not that. Mikey checked the kitchen first. Then the medbay. Under the couch.

He wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere.

Mikey thought about screaming for him, but if he hadn’t reacted to Donnie's scream then he probably wouldn’t react to his. What could he do? He should have stayed. If he knew dad was topside then - oh shell why hadn’t he assumed that. Donnie didn’t scream when dad was home so - if he screamed - dad probably wasn’t home. Nevermind how Donnie would know that. Nevermind anything. He had just wasted time better used on Donnie because he couldn’t think straight.

Donnie. Who was probably still on the floor. Not moving. Getting worse.

Mikey ran to the nearest sewer pipe. If dad was topside he would just have to get him. Nevermind the sickening anxiety building in his chest, or the fact dad explicitly banned them from going topside alone. It was an emergency. Dad would understand.

“Orange? Why are you running? You are going to trip over the wires.”

Mikey wasn’t sure if the feeling in his chest was relief or excitement - but it was a cool contrast to the anxiety. Dad was in the house. In the living room (why hadn’t he checked there first. He had been wasting the time Donnie needed). He was on the recliner, staring at him like he was possessed.

The cool emotion was temporary, dispelled at the thought of Donnie. Donnie on the floor. Not moving.

“Dee-” he was out of breath, every desperate word catching in his throat. Why couldn’t he speak? “H-he’s-”

“Purple?” Sprinter stroked his chin. “He was just in here a while ago. If you are looking for him he is probably in his room.”

Mikey's legs hurt. “N-no tha-that's not h-he's not-” It wasn’t working. He was gasping between every word. It was taking too long. Mikey stumbled over to him, trying to pull him off the chair. “J-just come.”

“Ah. If you want to show me something it will have to wait. I have to watch the new episode of lobster treadmill.”

Pulling him wasn’t working. “I-its an emergency. W-we we’re playing a-and-”

“You boys.” Splinter stood up, sighing. He started walking to the others with much less urgency than Mikey would have liked. “I have told you that those games are just a disaster waiting to happen.” Mikey didn’t remember him ever saying anything like that, but maybe he just hadn’t been listening. “What is it this time? A stubbed toe? A missing tooth?”

Mikey was walking in front of him, pulling Splinter's hand in an attempt to get him to move a little faster.

“N-no Dee's not moving - i-it’s an emergency!”

“I thought purple did not like to play with you all.” He had complained about that before - that Donnie was avoiding him or something childish and wholly irrelevant. Irrelevant when Donnie was still on the floor; surrounded by his brothers that were, in all likelihood, making it worse.

At the least dad started to move faster, though still too slow.

Donnie was still on the ground when they got there, despite his worst fears. Leo and Raph weren’t poking at his shell either. They were just… staring at Donnie.

Why was that worse? Why weren’t they moving?

“Donatello!”

Splinter was there. He knew what to do. He was already on the floor with Donnie, picking him up and moving him. Why hadn’t Mikey thought of that? The floor was probably gross. Donnie hated gross things. He wore gloves to read his comics for goodness sake.

Splinter was taking him somewhere too - and as soon as Mikey figured out where he would get right on questioning why he hadn’t thought of it first. He followed silently, peaking over Splinter's shoulders to get a look at Donnie. The anxious energy was still there, humming beneath his skin. It needed some outlet - something. He considered staying for a second, maybe continuing the game or something, but Leo looked out of it and Raph looked like he was about to go off. He made the executive decision that he did not want to be around for that.

When they got to the medbay - the obvious place to go that Mikey definitely thought of before Splinter walked there - he shooed him away. Understandably, maybe. He had spent the walk on Splinter’s heels (literally at some points), peering over his shoulders in hopes he would gain some sort of insight.

He didn’t. What he did gain a seat in the living room, anxiety still buzzing in his chest.

He paced around the room three times before the ache in his legs started to kick in. Then he sat in the (apparently not broken) recliner. He would brag about that rare privilege later, much to his brother's disbelief, but it was the furthest thing from his mind then. He was too busy tapping his feet, chattering his teeth, biting his nails - anything to get the feeling out of his chest.

It crackled under his skin, bouncing and bubbling like poison excitement. The opposite of excitement. Maybe it was dread? But not dread. Dread was heavy and still. This was bouncing, running through his chest like lighting, and all together too much. Maybe it wasn’t trapped in his chest, though; that felt inaccurate. It felt like it was everywhere; like it was infecting everything - making the world big and active and panicked and loud. But not loud. Quiet. Still like dread. Still and heavy like dread, but moving like excitement.

That barely made sense, but nothing around him seemed to make sense so why would he? The recliner not being broken didn’t make sense. He clearly remembered dad complaining about that, and dad hadn't been topside recently to fix it. If he had Mikey would know - it didn’t make sense that he didn’t - and he wouldn’t have wasted time looking anywhere but the living room to find him. Then Donnie would have been helped much quicker and it all would have been fine.

That was another thing that didn’t make sense; Donnie. Donnie didn’t make sense. Not in the normal way Donnie didn’t make sense with his stupid big words and refusing to play with them. No. It didn’t make sense that Donnie fell over. It didn’t make sense that he was in the medbay - that the medbay was being used for anything other than playing doctor or the aftermath of one of Leo’s dumb stunts. It just didn’t make sense.

He was standing again. He was pacing again. His legs were hurting and he sat down again. It didn’t help. His foot was tapping on the floor again. His teeth were chattering again. His shell felt like it was buzzing.

It wasn’t helping. That didn’t make sense. Why wasn’t it helping?

Mikey would call it emotional flooding eventually - a term he stole out of a phycology book Donnie had finished reading. Donnie would stay a self-diagnosis wasn’t very reliable even at the best of times, but there wasn’t much to be done. Even if Donnie read every phycological book in existence, he was never good at picking up on those symptoms in practice. Leo and Raph didn’t have the patience for that stuff in the first place. It was just impossible, and a real doctor was obviously out of the question so Docter Feelings would have to do; even if Doctor Feelings was only nine at the time.

Besides, flooding made it sound cooler than it was. Like it wasn’t just him hyperventilating as the world spun out of control around him.

But it would be three years before he found something resembling a name for what he was feeling, so that didn’t really matter.

By the time Splinter came into the room his head was tucked into his shell. It had been a futile attempt to make the world make sense, retreating into the never changing darkness. He had always hated that darkness as a child - the claustrophobic stillness of his shell that he could barely move in. It was unbearable for a kid that could never seem to stop moving - that just wanted to bounce off every wall - but it still made sense. It still made sense and maybe what he needed was that stillness.

“You are sitting in my chair Orange.”

Mikey’s head poked out of his shell. Dad was back. He shot out of the chair like a rocket, stumbling as he ran to Splinter.

“What happened - is Donnie okay - did he get hurt?” The questions came out in a rush, toppling over themselves in a bid to get out of his mouth. “Is it… Is it bad?”

Splinter seemed surprised for a moment before he smiled. It was a warm smile. It made sense too. “He is fine Orange. There is no need to worry.”

Mikey didn’t realize his hands were shaking until they were clutching Splinter's robe. “You’re sure, right? You're definitely sure?”

“Yes, I am sure Micheal.” Sprinter patted his head. It was an awkward semblance of affection, but it was enough. “Purple is fine. There is nothing to worry about.”

That made sense. He still asked two more times though, just to be sure. Splinter didn’t seem annoyed at that, which was weird cause he was usually annoyed when Mikey repeated himself that many times, but Mikey wasn’t going to bring that up.

He ended up on the recliner with Splinter. It was a tight fit, but Splinter didn’t bring it up so he wasn’t about to.

The anxiety was still pounding in his chest, a snake twisting tighter with every beat of his heart, but that was fine. Mikey didn’t ask if Donnie was fine again, just in case Splinter realized that he could kick Mikey out of the chair. He took deep quiet breaths, letting the shake in his hands die down as he plastered himself to Splinter's side.

It was fine. Dad said so, and dad knew everything so it was definitely okay. He always knew how to help, so it was okay. Everything made sense to dad so it was okay.

He would carry that idea for too long. He wasn’t quite sure if it was longer than normal people per say (Donnie would say that the sample of ‘people’ he had to draw from was too small) but it was definitely longer than Leo, Donnie, or Raph. Probably April too.

It would bite him one day. Hard. It would send him spiraling as he hurried to grow up quicker. To become something that could keep up with his brothers in any way instead of just running off to Splinter whenever anything went wrong. Help them; even just a little bit.

But he felt safe in that moment, chaos riding to a stop under his skin. He didn’t notice when his hands stopped shaking, shoulders unwinding as he sank further into the recliner.

The TV was on. It wasn’t Lou Jutsu or anything animated so Mikey found his eyes glazing over. That was fine. He was more focused on the warmth on his side and the sudden lack of energy in his chest. The sudden exhaustion flooding into his limbs, weighing him further into the couch.

If he noticed, Splinter didn’t complain when Mikey leaned more and more of his weight on him. He just sat there, subtly adjusting for his youngest son as he drifted into a dead sleep.

When Mikey asked about it later, Splinter would laugh saying that's the easiest time he ever had putting Mikey to bed.

Chapter Text

Donnie tended to remember the ‘incident’ the most productively of all his brothers. Raph tended to get caught up in his emotions, Leo tended to ignore it entirely (almost stubbornly, outside of when Donnie actively brought it up first), and Mikey seemed to forget the entire event happened most days. Maybe he was the luckiest in that regard, but Donnie didn’t have the luxury to avoid the memory. He was a scientist, and part of that was reflecting on the past and analyzing what went wrong, even when he didn’t want to.

So for Donnie, the memory started in chairs. That's what the last… about week consisted of for him if he remembered correctly. Dad had broken his recliner at some point, and he was going to be the turtle to fix it. That's what he did as a child, he fixed things. For Donnie that day started in the living room, with a book titled ‘the science of chairs’ on his lap. Well. more of a TV guide than a book (some free thing the channel had sent out that found its way into the trash), but it had a section on recliners so it would work perfectly.

Splinter wasn’t in the room when he started fixing the chair, which had been totally fine because he wasn’t doing it for Splinter. He just liked to fix things.

And when he finished the chair, he did not run to find Splinter. No, he was just looking for a drink in the kitchen. If Splinter just happened to be there then so what? That didn’t prove anything. What are you, a cop? Donnie is, and always was, an emotionally detached bad boy who needs no parental support or affection. That is a scientific fact.

In any case, Splinter just happened to be in the kitchen.

“Hey, pa.” Donnie leaned against the counter. It might have looked slightly cooler if he was tall enough to reach the countertop. “Have you.... been... to the living room recently?” That sounded cooler in his head (not that he practiced or anything).

“...Purple? What did you do?”

The tone felt like an accusation, and Donnie had to take a second to think what he was accusing him of. He didn’t tend to cause too much trouble - he didn’t prank anyone or - oh.

He was thinking of Leo, wasn’t he. Well... Splinter was super old wasn’t he? Sometimes memory went with age. Nothing to take to heart.

“Nothing bad papa. Just come to the living room.”

Splinter stopped for a second before he put his snack on the counter. “If the living room is on fire Purple, we will be having words.”

“I said it was nothing bad!” Well, that didn’t matter. It would just make dad’s happiness double when he found not only was the living room intact, but his recliner was too. Donnie was smiling just thinking of it. “Just come on!”

…Okay so maybe Donnie had fixed the recliner in order to impress Splinter; he could be honest for the sake of scientific reflection and analysis. It was a habit he would grow out of eventually (though maybe not as completely as he would like) but it was a fact of his childhood and he was not one to shy away from facts.

And it was hard to shy away from the accomplishment that filled his chest when Splinter noticed; and he had noticed (despite young Donnies worse fears). It was like fireworks when Splinter gave him a pat on the head. Donnie wanted to go back in time - to take a moment to remind his younger self that Splinter never really apologized for suspecting him, but his younger self probably wouldn’t have cared. He would have doubled down if anything, to used to the occasional comment from Leo to actually consider the criticism as anything more than jealousy.

What mattered was that Splinter was proud of him (even if he didn’t say it) and he was going to rub that in his brother's faces until they were jelly as a PB and J.

It did not take Donnie long to find them. They were in the main room, playing some game between hot potato and football. A very loose definition of football there, but they had a football so that was something… probably? He wasn’t very good with different sports, but he was pretty sure football involved goalposts or something like that. This, most certainly, did not.

Well, that didn’t matter.

“Why’re you so happy Dee?” Of course Mikey was the one to notice, with a stupid smile that was nothing but innocent and charming.

He could never bring himself to hate that smile, but he could bring himself to be jealous of it.

“Well, I’m glad you asked Angelo!” Donnie cleared his throat, gaining the other's attention as well. They might as well hear about how cool he was. It would make it easier for them to compliment him. “Papa has acknowledged my greatness as his favorite son once and for all.”

Maybe it was mean that Donnie wanted Mikey to stop smiling after he spoke. Mikey didn’t, and maybe it was even more mean that that made Donnie frustrated.

“He did not.” Leo lied, sliding off the (turtle?) pile and walking towards Donnie.

“Yeah too! He gave me a pat.”

“You just met his secret twin. Pop doesn’t do pats.”

“Yeah, he does! Just only to me.” Did Mikey ever get pats? Probably not. Donnie was just so cool that he was the only one who got them. “Cause I’m his favorite.” Wait Leo had said something stupid hadn’t he. “ And papa doesn’t have a secret twin.”

It was inane that he even had to tell Leo that. There was no evidence to suggest that Splinter had a twin at all - no hidden TV room or inexplicably missing food every so often. Maybe Donnie was just too smart for his brothers. Or Leo was particularly dumb. That was possible as well.

“Does too.”

Why was Leo focusing on that so much? He should’ve been focusing on how cool Donnie was - maybe erecting a marble bust in his honor - and not focusing on some dumb imaginary twin. “Does not! And if he did I would know because I would be his favorite too!”

Leo finally stopped holding to his inane point, but he didn’t start congratulating Donnie. Or raving about how jealous he was. Raph wasn’t either - he was just sort of staring ahead - and Mikey still had his stupid smile on.

He changed his mind. He could bring himself to hate that smile. That stupid carefree smile that just spelled out how easy the world was for him - how naturally he got everything Donnie wanted.

“Donnie! Catch!”

There was a ball in his hands. Why was there a ball in his hands? He had no idea. He didn’t really have time to think about it before Raph was barrelling into him.

He swore he heard a snap.

Donnie liked to describe the word in concrete facts. The sky was blue, leaves were green etcetera. He had spent days, even as a child, reading about the world - collecting and hoarding information like a magpie - in order to accurately analyze whatever was happening around him. He did not like to use metaphors or similes. Too often they just detracted from a world that should, logically, just speak for itself.

But in that moment there was lava under his shell.

The world was white with pain - hot burning pain that borrowed down to his toes and left him gasping. It nested under his shell like a burrowing snake, twisting and striking out at his nerves until he wanted to cry. He probably was crying. It felt like he was crying.

It felt like he was dying. Oh, shell he was dying wasn’t he.

Donnie didn’t remember how he got out of the room. It didn’t truly matter. Raph or Leo probably carried him to the medbay. Mikey was probably freaking out. Or maybe he hadn’t realized what happened at all. Maybe he was still smiling.

His crying must have alerted Splinter because when Donnies memory picked up he was with him in the room; the medbay. Neither Mikey, Leo or Raph weren’t there. They had probably already started playing in the other room again.

“Are you alright my son?” Splinter sounded breathless, and Donnie would believe he was scared if Splinter ever got scared. But Splinter never got scared so Donnie must have been imagining it.

“I-I’m fine papa. It just feels like a bruise.” it didn’t. The fire hadn’t dimmed in his shell, but he didn’t need to tell Splinter that. He was strong. Or, more to the point maybe, he wasn’t weak; and even if he was Splinter didn’t need to know that he was. “W-what happened?”

Sprinter looked sad for a moment. No, not sadness. It was pity. Why was Splinter looking at him with pity?

“It’s just a bruise that's… That's good.” Splinter took a deep breath, taking a seat beside the cot. “My.. this was my error. I had thought that you could go longer without having to know.”

“Know what?” He was super smart. Chances were he already knew whatever Splinter was talking about. If he did, maybe Splinter would stop looking like that.

“You…” Splinter started. He was looking at the ground. “Are not quite the same as your brothers.”

He knew that - he was smart and talented and amazing - but something about the way Splinter said it sent a weight in his stomach. Like it was a bad thing somehow. He was probably just imagining it.

“Y-yeah I know that. R-Raphs a lot bigger for one. And the patterns on our shells are different. But we’re still family so it doesn’t matter.”

“It’s not quite that simple, Donatello.”

Why was he using his full name? Why was he talking to him like he was made of glass? What was happening - why didn’t he understand any of it? He was supposed to be the one to understand things why didn’t this make any sense?

“You are, well, your shell is less... protective than your brothers are.”

Donnie didn’t understand. He was supposed to understand, but Splinter wasn’t making any sense. “I… I’m a turtle. My shell protects my back. That’s just what it does dad.”

Splinter looked uncomfortable. “Your shell has a slightly different… It is… bad at its job. That may be a good way to put it. Yes, your shell is just a little bad at its job.”

Ah. He meant defective. He meant defective but he was too nice to say it. That was okay. Donnie could read between the lines.

“It is nothing serious. It just means you have to be a little more careful when playing with your brothers.”

It didn’t. It probably meant a lot more than that because Splinter still had that look on his face and the dread was still pooling in his stomach. What did he know about this? What was Splinter holding back? He had read his brothers a book about turtle biology before in an attempt to get them interested in science (did not work) but what was in the book? Mikey pointed out all the patterns that resembled theirs. Wasn’t there one that he -

Oh.

“I’m... a softshell turtle, aren’t I?”

Splinter looked surprised, then relieved. “So you already knew, purple.”

He didn’t. Or maybe he had - somewhere in the recesses of his mind - because he didn’t feel shocked. He didn’t really feel anything. It was sort of like… he was on a rope bridge and someone had cut the rope, leaving him floating there right in the moment before gravity set in. Detached. Despondent. Numb.

Sprinter was talking. What was he saying? It all felt a little foggy. “- I am sure you are already aware of this all then - I am just… -” More talking. He was rambling. “- and I will have to check on your brothers to make sure they are all okay as well.”

Donnies mind was torn between indignation and guilt at that. On one hand, he was certain his brothers weren’t hurt. They were not defective like he was. Their shells would have protected them perfectly well. So what Splinter was really saying was that he didn’t want to deal with Donnie anymore. That he was being clingy. That he was just a defective (not favorite) son taking up all his time that could be better spent on Mikey (or Leo or Raph or anyone else really). Shell, if that wasn’t the last thing he wanted to be. The obstacle.

He was wrong, of course. Donnie would learn that one day.

“Okay.”

Splinter looked at him.

Donnie ignored the way his throat seemed to clamp shut as he spoke. “You should probably go check on them. I’ll be fine here.”

Splinter said something. Something apologetic that stunk of false politeness and pity. He would chalk that tone to confirmation bias eventually, but that hadn’t made it hurt less when Splinter left the room. Left him alone, impossibly small and distant from the world around him.

Donnie didn’t cry. He didn’t panic. He didn’t think, really. He just sat there, feeling the distant inevitable wave of reality stalling in the distance. He just didn’t want to deal with whatever it was yet - whatever anxiety promised to attack him as soon as he could feel anything again.

There was a shuffling at the door eventually. Splinter was back, and maybe Donnie should have known to suppress the hope in his chest but it was the first positive thing he had felt science Splinter left and he was allowed to savor it. At least until it came crashing down at the sight of Leo.

Yeah, of course. Splinter probably had more important things to do.

Leo didn't look at him. He didn't have to. Donnie could already picture the mix of pity and distaste that was there. He probably already knew.

Donnie found his voice eventually; after what felt like an eternity of silence from his usually talkative brother. “Are you going to laugh? That's why you came right? So laugh already. Get it over with.”

Leo flinched. He was still avoiding his eyes. Was he really so (pathetic) (unworthy) weak that Leo couldn’t even look at him? “Why would I laugh?”

“Cause I cried.”

“You didn’t cry. You screamed Don. There's a difference.”

Leave it to Leo to get caught up in useless pedantics and completely dance around the real point. Both meant he was (bad) (cowardly) in pain, and that was the important attribute because it was what he was going to be made fun of for. Because he was (weak) (different) defective.

“Not a big one.”

Leo pretended to laugh. “I thought you were the science expert. There's a big difference. One involves water coming out of your eyes.”

“Both are a response to pain.”

“Yeah, but yelling is loud and crying is quiet.”

“They don’t have to be.” This was stupid, and not at all what they should be focusing on. “And what does it matter? You can make fun of me either way.”

“I won’t make fun of you for crying cause you screamed,” Leo said, still not looking Donnie in the eye. Still lying. “And I won't make fun of you for screaming cause I’m not a bully.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I’m not.”

“And how do I know that?”

“I’m your twin. Telepathy.”

They were not twins. It was as inane of an argument as Splinter having a secret twin. If they were, then Donnie’s shell would be functional. If they were, Splinter would love him just as much as Mikey. He would get pats every day - and hugs. He would get so many hugs. He would have the option to play with his brothers if he wanted to. He didn’t, but he wanted the option.

“We are not twins Leo.”

“We have the same birthday; in the same year!”

That was irrelevant. “We’re not the same type of turtle.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does Leon.”

Leo stopped. Stopped what? Speaking mostly. Reminding him of all that he wasn’t. Of how much easier it would be to be ignorant of that. To fall into Leo’s inane lie and pretend that he was normal. The same. Like the world hadn’t been gutted and flipped on its head.

“I’m not…” Good. Worthy. Functional. “I can’t…” Be like you. Play with you all. “I’m a softshell Nardo.”

“A soft… shell?” Of course Leo wouldn’t know what that meant. Some telepathy that was.

“It means I’m weak Leo.” Donnie wasn’t in control of the frustration in his voice. “It means I get hurt because my stupid shell isn’t right.”

“I… Not... not right? Shells can be wrong?”

“Mine is.” Donnie wanted to laugh. “It’s the reason I get hurt.”

“H-hey! That's not true.”

“How would you know. I’m the science expert - not you.”

“I - I just know okay.” He knew? Was that another one of Leo’s inane lies? “That's not why you got hurt.“ Leo took a shaky breath. “You got hurt because of my plan, not your shell.”

Donnie, as a science expert, was fairly certain that it was his shell. Leo’s plan consisted of -wait for it - playing the game the way it was meant to be played. Just, him being involved in it. Brilliant. Maybe he was being targeted, but so what? It shouldn't have mattered. Donnie couldn’t tell if that was hilarious or not. It felt funny - hysterical almost - but it really wasn’t supposed to feel that way, was it? Maybe that was just another way he was defective.

“Leo, if my shell was right that wouldn’t have mattered. Don't you get it?! It shouldn’t have hurt me at all? I’m supposed to be stronger than that - I’m a turtle - my shell is supposed to do something why doesn’t it -” Donnie took another breath. It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t funny anymore. Whatever sick joke this was it wasn’t funny. “It wasn’t supposed to be able to hurt me, Leo. I’m supposed to be able to take that - to play games like that. I’m not supposed to…”

They trailed off into silence for a moment.

“... that doesn’t mean you’re not my twin.”

Donnie sighed, a disappointed laugh curling out of his throat. Leo really couldn’t stop getting distracted by stupid, irrelevant arguments could he? It was funny. “We’re back to this again? It’s irrelevant. Do you not get what I’m trying to say -”

“You’re my brother then. Can we at least agree on that.”

Was he? If he couldn’t even play like them? He didn’t spend time with them either; he was always reading some book in his room or following Splinter around. What qualified him to be their brother? Just… living with them? Being there? Was he just some kid living with them? Some roommate they had to walk on eggshells around?

“... Are we?” Donnie laughed. “I mean… I can’t play games like you. I can’t fight or wrestle or play or… anything…”

“Yes. Yes, we are brothers Donald.”

Leo spoke with a conviction that made Donnie want to believe it. He wanted to believe that.

“But were not the same species of turtle.”

“That's irrelevant.”

That wasn’t an answer. That wasn’t evidence or a solution or anything. “No, it's not!”

“Yes, it is!”

“No Leon. It’s important!”

“Not to me.” Leo yelled, “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if your shell is wrong - or if you can’t play with us or whatever. If you can’t play then you can’t play. You're still my twin.” Leo thought for a moment “And my brother, of course. No stupid shells gonna change that.”

Donnie was reasonably sure that Leo couldn’t just randomly decide that, but he wasn’t about to mention it. He was allowed to stay, at least. He just needed to make sure they didn’t have a reason to doubt that decision - that they never had a reason to think about why he was still in the family. He was defective, not stupid. He could figure out how to be useful. Useful enough that they wouldn’t throw him away, at least. He could do that.

Leo would tell him that he was being stupid there; very, incredibly stupid. Mikey would too, if he told him, and Raph would probably launch into a lecture about how valued he was. Leo was the only one he would talk to about that particular issue - some mix between having similar anxieties and him just being there - so they would never get the chance to. There was no one to tell him he was being stupid then, in any case. They would fix it in time; after Donnie ignored his limits one time too many and Leo had put up with too many lies and sloppy cover-ups.

There was a beat of silence. Donnie felt tears on his face. Had he been crying. He was lucky Leo wasn’t laughing at him for that, he supposed.

“So is it… bad?”

“Is - oh…” He was talking about the injury. Donnie knocked lightly on his shell, testing the waters. The fire was still there, but he could get used to it. He would have to. He wouldn’t be weak. “Papa said it was just some bruising…”

“You screamed that loud over some bruising?”

Donnie glared at him. Leo was looking at him now, at least. “I thought you were going to drop that!”

“Right, right - I dropped it. It has been dropped.” The smile on his face was not convincing in the slightest.

Leo didn’t ask if he could stay which was good because Donnie wasn’t sure he wanted him to or not. How would that look? Your brother comes in, tries to comfort you, and you send him away because you’re too selfish to share the space.

So it’s good Leo didn’t ask.

Donnie let himself stare at the wall. The emotions in his chest were distant again, replaced again with indifference. It was cold and clear cut. It almost felt like logic so Donnie let it stay.

Splinter didn’t come back into the room. Leo fell asleep eventually, soft snores muffled against the cot. Donnie stayed up, staring at the door until exhaustion forced his eyes shut.