Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Branding / Scarring / Collar

Leo considered himself a lot of things. 

And some days, patient is one of them. 

But on other days… 

“Leo. Leo. Leo. I’m bored. So bored. Leo. Leeeoooo. Leo, I’m dying. Leo, I’m so bored it’s killing me-“ 

“Mikey!”

His little brother giggles and swerves out of his reach, ducking behind Raph. Hands on his carapace as he peeks over the rim of his shell, he insists, “There’s nothing happening! Less than nothing! Not even a little bad guy plotting! Let’s go hooome.” 

“We are not going home until we know what the Foot are planning.”

“They aren’t planning. They’re chilling! Like we should be!” 

“Not. Going. Anywhere.”

“Raph! Talk sense into Leo!” 

Leo scoffs. “Mr. Short, Dark, and Broody only has time for himself.”

Raph gives him the stink eye, but remains on his perch, watching the alleyway. 

Mikey steps out from behind him, giving the two of them an uncertain look. “Are you guys… Fighting again?”

“No. Raph just can’t handle being wrong.”

“Right. I’m the one who can’t handle it.” 

“Sensei said-”

“Do I look like I care?” 

“Look who’s suddenly talking to me!” 

“Look who’s suddenly out of comebacks.”

Leo scowls and turns away, sinking his head into hunched shoulders. Mikey rubs his arm, glancing between both brothers before warily walking up behind Leo. “Is this about the leader thing-?”

“No!” Leo whirls. “It’s about his attitude! And the fact that neither of you listen to me!”

Mikey taps his fingers meekly. “I listen.”

“When you’re inches away from dying, suuure, you’ll listen, but before that, it’s all- you’re so bossy, Leo, stop telling us what to do, Leo, you’re a terrible leader, Leo!” 

Mikey shrinks back. Raph stares at the street below. “You forgot the part where you tell us you were all that and then apologize.”  

“Why am I the one apologizing?!”

“If you don’t know, I ain’t telling you.” 

“How about you say that to my face?”

“How about you throw yourself off the roof?”

“Maybe I will!”

“H-how about you… Don’t?” 

Leo shoots him a scathing look. “Stay out of this, Mikey!” 

Mikey clams up and Leo turns back to the source of his troubles, “And you- you speak all tough but you won’t even look me in the eyes and say it.”

“Don’t got nothin’ to prove.” 

“I swear, you’re impossible.”

“Raphael, actually.” 

“Oh, he’s a joker now!” He barks out a false laugh, bring a hand to his forehead and then throwing out his arms, “Funny! Real hilarious- man, just once! Just once I’d like one of you to listen to me.” 

“Maybe if you didn’t nag so much, we would.”

“And maybe if you two weren’t so thickheaded and selfish, I wouldn’t have to!”

Leo watches Raph’s mouth open to release a response before closing, head perking slowly, attention narrowing to the alley below. That’s all the prompt he needs to move to his side, peeking down at the ground. Mikey comes up beside him as they watch the Kraang park their vehicle, one leaves the van as the bay door opens. There’s a brief exchange between an impatient Stinkman and the Kraang bot, and then a robotic hand motion. 

They watched in resounding silence as Kraang bot exists the back of the van, dragging a stumbling, ill-appearing creature with it. The shell is the first thing to pop out beside the pale green skin, shaking legs carrying the scarred form where it’s led. He senses Raph’s shift next to him, straightening from the crouch to get a better look. 

A Kraang prods it with its rod, sudden and aggressive, and the turtle mutant looses its footing. It lands hard enough the Leo experience second-hand pain, curling up and wheezing, bridge of it’s shell too loose to possibly be healthy. The Kraang shocks it and Leo instinctively steps towards his baby brother, sympathetic to the whine that splits the air from down below, but ready to prevent his compassionate brother from getting himself hurt. 

The creature is forced to its feet and Stinkman gestures them all in, momentarily scanning the alley, closing the bay doors behind him. 

Leo lets out his breath, looking to his pale younger brother. Mikey looks back, eyes wide. He sets a hand on his arm. “Now we go home.”

“But-“

“I know, but we have to tell Splinter. With the Kraang mutageon and the Foot’s teachings- that turtle may be the first of many. We might have a real fight on our end.”

Mikey stares at him, anxious, and Leo faces Raph. “We’re going. Now.”

Raph doesn’t respond, a foot on the parapet, body tilted forward. Leo’s eyes widen as he recognizes that look in his eyes.

“Raph, no. No. No! Raph- RAPH!“

***

He doesn’t fight as he’s dropped on the operation table, cuffs locking over reddened skin, table moving to allow the human a better view of his body. He can see unfamiliar black shadows; lurkers of darkness posted around the room. A slumped, broad, tanish creature oversees the events. Their gazes meet and the creature bares his teeth.

He ignores the way his body trembles, darting brown eyes to the hovering Kraang, certain that as long as his masters were nearby, nothing too horrific would happen. 

They needed him to stayed intact. A turtle with no limbs can’t obey. A turtle with no brain can’t serve. He fights to control his breathing, struggling to understand the human that talks way too fast and way too weird to possibly be using the language correctly. 

“He who is known as Stalkman must not do that which as known as debilitate subject three-six-nine as promised by he who is know as the Shredder-“ 

Stalkman responds with something high and rapid, outrightly dismissing the Kraang. 369 picks up on a few words he recognizes- experiment- useful- genius- end- turtle- but he can’t match them into a sentence, so they flutter around in his brain.

He diagnoses the meaning of the words- experiment, turtle, useful- they have to relate to him. They are what he is. Genius- end- that seems more of self directed, a compliment and a threat, maybe what that human is and what the human will use him for? 

He doesn’t understand why he can’t just say that. 

The Kraang and the human have discussed much more by the time that he processes the first sentence, so many words and declarations that he misses entirely, and he panics when he sees the scientist pick up a needle. He knows he should be used to it by now, but the Kraang always ramble to each other about his uses-

He always knows what they plan on doing- he doesn’t know anything now. 

The table had moved again, fleshy, unfamiliar hand resting on scaley arm. His breaths come out in short pants, trying to control himself, trying to remain still as something wraps around his arm. The human is muttering- to himself or 369, he can’t tell- and the room swims a bit, telling 369 that he needs to breath or he’s going to pass out again.

The Kraang hate it when he passes out and this human might too- might be worse with him, might be cruel to him-

Needle enters flesh. Tears prick, he gasps, a whine escapes.

“YOU LET GO OF HIM!” 

A blur of motion, a flash of green- two Kraang bots hit the ground and one of the black lurkers jumps at it. The lurker hits the ground, a blade removed from sparking skull. The green being- green shell turtle?- removes the blade and sneers at the human. The human squeaks and removes the needle, dashing off in the other direction.

”BOOYAKASHA!”

Cries ring out in the background but the warrior doesn’t even flinch, slamming a button on the console. The cuffs release, and he scrambles upright, frantic to find his masters and get away from the new threat. The turtle surveys him- strong, firm, dangerous- and steps forward. He panics, falling off the edge of the table, side screaming in agony as he hits the floor. He ducks under the movable surface, making himself as small as possible, desperate to be unnoticed and forgotten.

Green eyes peek under the table, landing on him. Their eyes meet, and his fear tangles in his throat, blocking his airway.

The turtle’s face disappears; a crash echoes and then one of the lurkers slides across the ground, ramming into a wall. He stares at it in shock, and then to the green feet that circle the table. The turtle kneels, brown pads resting against the floor, holding out hand, opening and closing his fingers. “Come ‘ere.” 

He whines anxiously, pressing further back. 

The turtle’s expression changes, softening into something 369 doesn’t recognize. He speaks even, slow, in the weird way. “I know. Scary, huh? But I won’t hurt you. I’m a good guy. Promise.”

He can still hear the battle, the cries, the sounds of blades clashing. He speaks like the scientist, like the humans. He’s dangerous and bladed. The intruder is clearly not with his masters, so how can he be good? 

He lays his chin on his hands, body hunch in, submissive, but unmoving. 

The turtle considers him for a long moment. Then-

chirp (safe)

He perks. 

chirp click (safe friend)

He scans his expression, creeping closer. chirp (friend strange like me?) 

An eager gesture. (here safe friend)  

The turtle scoots back, allowing him to peek his head out. He looks him over, flinching when he reaches out his hand, letting three fingers rest against aching skull. (friend? Who?) 

“There you go.” Gentle fingers move over his scalp, a touch without malice.

He moves forward, exposing himself, leaning into it. One hand cups the side of his face, brushing his cheek. The other hand trails over faded scales, down his neck, pausing on the metal collar, tapping the breaks in carapace lip. He lets his eyes slip closed, a churr vibrating in his chest, pressing into the touch without pain. (hi nice safe friend stay stay) 

“Hey!” 

Friend is torn away, tossed far from 369’s reach, slamming into the wall. He whirls but is too late for escape. He’s hoisted into the air, meeting the snarling gaze of the tan creature. He panics, kicking and squirming, and the heavy grip slams him back onto the table, pain spiking up his carapace like lightning, erasing the nice for an all-to-familiar terror. (no no no friend help scared threat friend help help-) 

***

“Where’s Raph?” 

Leo is ticked. No, Leo is beyond ticked. Leo is I’m-going-to-make-sure-Sensei-grounds-Raph-to-the-sewers-for-the-rest-of-eternity ticked. 

Mikey flips over a mace, borrowing it from vice fingers and slapping the bot’s head off. He puts a hand over his eyes as he watches it go, musing, “No idea. Where’s the mutant?”

He turns as Leo slices the bot through the head with his own staff, probably the same thing he wants to with Raph. Mikey better warn him. “I’ll go find him!”

“Mikey, wait-!”

Mikey is already on the move, too fast to be stopped, and he swerves around Kraang and Foot alike, heading to where Raph had disappeared in his less than stealthily rampage. He doesn’t find his brother, but he does find the mutant that he set out to save. Dogpound leers over him, frantic little sounds leaving the turtle’s lip, and Mikey instantly knows that he’s terrified. With no Leo to stop him and no one else to do it for him, Mikey bounces off a pillar and kicked the betraying dog in his stupid snout.

He releases the turtle to grab at Mikey, but the youngest Hamato is too quick for him. 

Raph appears out of nowhere, barreling into Dogpound from the side, knocking him away from the evil cut-people-open table. As they brawl, Mikey spots a needle with a vial of who-knows-what that was likely going to be used on the shivering turtle. 

He snatches it, darts over to the dog mutant, and jabs it into his arm. He cries out as Mikey swerves out of his path, letting Raph connect a finishing blow that takes him off his feet. 

Dogpound falls and does not get back up. 

“And I hope that hurts.” Mikey decides with hands on his hips. “Jerk.”

He looks to the side and finds that Raph is no longer there.

He takes out the bot coming up from behind and then hurries to his older brother’s side as he leads the turtle mutant off the table. The mutant presses into him like some sort of puppy, pleading and- oh, chirping, that’s what that is- as his animal-whisperer older brother pets and coos at him.

“Awww.” He gushes as he reaches out to touch his head. The turtle stiffens, staring at him with wide eyes. “Don’t worry, big guy. I’m not gonna hurtchya.” 

The turtle chirps, bumping his hand. Mikey melts. “What a good turtle you are, yes, you are, such a big boy.” 

“Uh- HELLO?” Leo, spoil-sport that he is, comes up behind them. “I don’t know if you guys forgot but we just broke into a Foot base and there are deadly ninjas everywhere?!” 

As Leo shakes the limb from his katana, Mikey gets to his feet and Raph scoops up the turtle. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Raph takes off and Leo sputters, “Wha- you’re not- taking the- Raph-!”

“Come on, bro.” Mikey takes his arm and urges him forward before releasing to trail his older brother and his new animal friend out.

Since he basically has no choice in the matter, Leo is quick to follow. 

***

Raph only breaks when he finds an alley with a manhole. He leaps down onto the dumpster from the fire escape, sliding and dropping on the ground. The mutant squeaks in fear, clinging arms around his neck, face buried in it. Raph kneels to set him on the ground. The shaky creature unfurls from around him, looking to the surrounding with wide eyes, turning back to him hesitantly. 

He smiles, setting a hand on the side of his face, watching some of the alarm fade. He glances down his plastron, to the TCRI symbol pressed into shell, ugly and charred around the edges. He bites down on the anger, letting the turtle lean closer to him, scratching the back of his neck, collar cold against his hand. “That’s it. You’re good now.”

“RAPHAEL!”

Here we go…

Two solid thumps behind him. Mikey eagerly dashes to his side, so Raph lets him take over, crooning loving words and pet names to the abused mutant. The hothead stands his ground, looking to the fuming older brother. “What. Were you. Thinking?!” 

“That he needed help. And we’re heros. So I helped him.” 

“You put our lives in danger.” 

“No one told you to come after me.”

“I wasn’t going to let you get yourself killed!”

“I wasn’t going to let them hurt him anymore.”

Leo threw his katana, blade hitting the ground. “Holy mother of mutations- it’s not some sad animal you can just adopt, Raphael! It belongs to the Kraang! The Foot!” 

“He’s not an animal cause he’s a mutant.” 

“We’ve talked about this-” 

“I wasn’t going to leave him to suffer!”

“Its not another Spike, Raphael-” 

“Don’t you-” 

“Its injured, malnourished, and possibly ill! What makes you think it’ll turn out any different? Just cause you didn’t stumble on it in the sew-“

Leo hits the wall, and Raph bares his teeth, heart pounding through his brain and adrenaline flushing his blood through his ears. “Not. One. More. Word.” 

Arm against his neck, Leo knows when to shut it. He seems to consider this a very good time to implement that skill. 

He breathes heavily, arms shaking, eyes stinging. “We’re keeping him. That’s it. You don’t like it? You can deal. He’s. Staying.” 

Leo grits his teeth, looking away. 

Raph releases him, stomping over to the manhole, practically flinging the cover. 

He moves over to the shivering turtle in Mikey’s arms, their youngest brother shushing and squeezing him. Raph kneels, shaky wrist brushing at his eyes, and then reaches out. “Hey. Don’t worry about him. Okay? You’re safe.”

Brown eyes peek out at him, round and anxious. His expression is so- so miserable. So sad, but weirdly adorable. A small smile creeps up on him. He huffs a wet laugh. “Come ‘ere, you sadorable thing.”

The turtle pushes away from Mikey and his little brother lets him go. He hurries over to Raph, hands on his lap and face pressed into his neck, and Raph pulls him into a hug. “There we go. I got you. You’re okay.” 

A small chirp, a weak churr, and Raph lets out a breath, feeling the steady warmth of a living being under his fingers.

“You’re okay.” 

***

He senses when his boys reach home, the discontent in Leo’s spirit, the sunshine that flows around Michelangeo’s, the turmoil that battles with calm morphing Raphael’s. 

It shakes him from his thoughts, leading him to his feet. He knows something must have happened out in the field and he worries on the strain that it places on his eldest sons’ relationship. He’s glad that Michelangeo bond with both has yet to dim. 

He forgets the picture in his hand, smooth film pristine as he leaves the dojo, stopping at the stairway to the main room. 

Leonardo pauses on his bitter trek to find him, his brothers behind him. Raphael sets down a creature much like his sons, and Michelangelo laughs when the creature fails to catch his balance, falling onto all fours. Curious eyes take him off guard, unease settling over his soul, another emotion blocked by pain.

Splinter brushes past his eldest, green arms crossed in satisfaction. 

His hotheaded son wraps an arm around the new mutant, glaring with a defiance that Splinter hasn’t seen spark in some time. 

Michelangelo backs away nervously as he kneels. 

He cups the side of scratched cheek, taking in the wary gaze that scans him. Brown eyes blink, a questioning chirp. He bumps his hand with his beak, leaning into his touch as a photo slips from quivering hands. 

He brings the other hand up to his face, giving him the affection that he craves, taking in the impossibility of a hope that died years ago. 

“Donatello?” 

Chapter Text

Scar Reveal / Lab Rat / Presumed Dead

“Sensei?”

Mikey watches Leo’s confident stature drop, uncertainty clouding his expression. He looks to the youngest but Mikey has no answers for him, moving closer to the little huddle now that he’s relatively certain Splinter has no plans on kicking the turtle out before he has a chance for a tour.

”You… Know him, Sensei?” Raph asks skeptically as he loosens his grip.

Mikey spots the small film on the floor next to him, lifting the picture as their father lets out a shaky breath. “I did. For a brief time. As did you all.”

“What?” Leo steps up closer, scrutinizing the turtle before him. Mikey turns over the picture, his world clanging to a stop. Leo’s fuzzy voice is high is disbelief, insisting, “I think I’d remember meeting another tur-” 

“We had a brother?”

Mikey looks up to find all eyes on him. He holds up the picture, flipping it so that they can see. He knows what they looked like as babies. His father has shown them pictures as they grew up, though Raph and Leo had a lot less interest than he did. He loved flipping through the albums created from the camera Splinter prized for reasons unknown to them. He knows how to separate the little tikes, using the crack on Raph’s shell, his adorable freckles, and Leo’s signature smile that became few and far between after the age of eight. 

The picture had all of that and more.

They were cuddled into a box used as a makeshift bed. Leo and Raph slept in the middle, with two turtles at their sides. Mikey knew he was by Raph, his older brother practically holding him down, arm over his carapace as baby Mikey snuggled into his plastron. Leo was sitting up, beaming up at the camera, a scratch-free, pear-shaped head snoozing against his shoulder, three fingered hand clutching a small circular object, bottom half on his tiny body blocked by the blanket that covered all of them. 

Leo snatches the picture and Raph looks down at the turtle that he supports.

Mikey thinks he can see similarities now, placing a hand on the carapace skinnier than his, maybe a darker shade of gray, or brown. He trails it down skutes that he compares to Raph’s. The turtle pulls away from Splinter to check on what Mikey’s doing, and the youngest recognizes the same brown of their father’s gaze coating his.

Splinter has yet to answer. 

He doesn't need to. Mikey knows he’s right.

“Hey, bro.”

The turtle chirps, leaning away from Raph, stretching out in a lazy effort to reach Mikey.

Mikey rubs the side of his head, looking to their eldest when he drops to his knees by his father, bursting, “No- no, this can’t… I don’t understand, Sensei- there was another turtle? Another- brother? I- All this time? How did I not know? How did we-"

“You were too young to remember.” Their father watches the turtle with impossibly soft eyes. “It happened so suddenly…”

“What happened, Sensei?” Raph's question comes out as more of a demand, a bite of betrayal linger behind it.

Their father sighs deeply, letting his hands fall to his lap. He watches the turtle a moment more as he pulls free on Raph’s hold, bumping into Mikey plastron, tucking his head under his chin. Mikey scratches above the ugly collar, earning faint churring, audible with every breath as Mikey's other hand continues the pets. 

“I told you how we found ourselves on the run before we found our home, how those creatures-“

“The Kraang.” Leo says automatically, his controlled gaze on the turtle. 

“They were hunting us. I did my best to stay one step ahead, but they cornered us in a sewer junction. I fended off many, but one came upon you boys. We fought. The cart that I kept you in was hit and fell into the water. I never noticed that one of you had fallen out, not until it was far too late to retrieve him.”

Mikey thinks he can see it. A dark shadow leering over all of them, glowing eyes taking them in, a large hand reaching. The shadow leaves, only to be thrown into the cart, removing the weight of a brother from his back, an alarmed chirps from the others. 

He remembers water and their protection becoming a metal cage, body swept up and then down, whirling around in murky pools and finding the panicked eyes of the two brothers with him.

He remembers the nightmares. He remembers waking in the dead off night, thinking that his brothers had been scared because of the danger. He remembers the empty feeling that he explains away as late-night hunger. Sometimes he finds Raph getting snacks. Leo drinks tea.

“I went back. I searched the area for... Many nights, whenever you boys slept. I hated to hear you cry, to see you awaken and search in fear for what I couldn’t give.” Splinter slips the picture from Leo's fingers, brushing over the slumbering tots. “I had to turn to other necessities. Food and better shelter. Evenings were cold and you were all so small. I couldn't... Every time I went back, I risked bringing the danger back to you. I… I truly thought him lost.” 

“Fine.” Raph's consent is harsh, laced with a bitter edge. “But why didn’t you tell us? You wanted to make us forget him? Our brother?” 

“Donatello’s memory faded on it’s own.” Splinter admitted quietly. Mikey mouths the name. “I simply did not interfere with the process.”

“You know that’s not better, right?”

“Raph!” Leo snaps on instinct, though his eyes say the same. 

“He made us forget our brother!” The turtle looks up, taking in the surroundings, muscles stiffening. “We could have- you wanted to leave him there! If I had listened to you, we would have left our brother because we didn’t know!”

“We don’t even know that this is him!” Leo challenges as his eyes flash. “That was fifteen years ago! Anything could have happened! I mean- look at him!” He gestures at the turtle that’s pulled away from Mikey, looking between them all anxiously. He shies away from Mikey's hand. “He acts like some kind of wild animal!” 

“I bet you’d be screwed in the head if you had aliens torturing you for fifteen years!”

“Or, I don’t know, if I was whipped up in a lab last week?!” 

Splinter looks between them in concern, “My sons-“

Leo looks at him, desperate. “Sensei, we have no proof-“

Raph looks away, fists clenched. “Your both insane! I can’t believe-“ 

“Donnie.” 

It’s simple, a-matter-of-fact, and somehow breaks the course of the conversation.

Mikey’s heart rams his ribs as he avoids his family’s gaze, glassy eyes scanning the way-to-skinny and hurt brother that he’s going to make a feast for, spinning mind finally slowing as he locks onto something that makes sense.

He brings his hand back to his chest, trying to exhale the weight in a long stream of logic. “It’s got to be Donnie. Donatello is too long and we all have nicknames and he’s our brother so he’s got to have one too. Tello is good, but doesn’t work because ours are all from the beginning of our names, and Dona is to girly, so it can’t be like Leo’s or Raph’s, but mine is Mikey instead of Michael, so his could be Donnie instead of Dona and then he can have a nickname and then we could match.” 

The silence rings, spreading thickly over all of them and into Mikey’s skin.

Maybe they don’t like it. Maybe it’s dumb.

Maybe he should come up with a different one.

“Donnie.” His grumpy brother mutters as he settles beside him. He reaches out a hand and the turtle obediently pushes his beak into it, chirping meekly, calming once Raph makes contact. “Sounds good to me.”

“Yeah?” A genuine smile forms as faces the others, blinking away the moisture.

His father offers a small smile, nodding his approval. Leo looks away, but Mikey usually counts his silence as a “yes” anyway. Mikey turns back, heart rate settling, testing the word on his tongue. The weight leaves his chest as something different slots into place, something that had been missing for far too long.

“Welcome home, Donnie.”

Donnie chirps, as if recognizing what now belongs to him, glancing at Mikey.

He beams, “You hungry, bro?” 

***

Splinter has to explain three consecutive times that greasy, cheesy pizza is not good for empty or ill stomachs. In the time it takes the youngest to realize that he could potentially hurt their new brother if he tries feeding him anything heavy before they understand how much and how often he ate, Raph has already chopped up lettuce and lunch meat, sprinkling some cheese over the plate. 

The turtle- Donnie, that’s his brother’s name- sits next to him the entire time, sniffing and poking anything within reach, peeking over the island. Raph has to bat his hand away from the knife multiple times because words didn’t seem to be reaching. He doesn't want to attempt turtle language with Leo hovering nearby, because each sound and emotion translated differently, and his older brother would know, instinctively, if he misspoke. 

He’d gotten lucky at the base. He wasn’t going to risk saying something wrong now.

”AHHH, I’M LATE THE PIZZZAAAA!”

Without so much as a bid goodbye, Mikey escapes from the lecture and dives out of the kitchen, assumably to go get the pizza that he ordered. His screams trails after him, leaving a heavy silence in the kitchen. 

Raph cleans off the cutting board, setting it in the sink and refusing to look at his father. He picks up the plate, balancing it in one hand, and then faces the mutant crouched at his feet, opening and closing the pantry door. 

“Hey.”

Donnie looks up. 

“You hungry?” 

A curious held tilt before he notices the plate. His gazes shifts between it and Raph, eyes round and hopeful. Raphs smirks. “Thought so.”

An answering trill. 

Raph takes his arm and brings him to his feet. He’s unsteady, one leg quivering a bit when he puts pressure on it. He doesn’t bothering meeting Leo’s gaze as he leads him along, anger swelling in his chest when he recalls his words in the alleyway, how firm he was to leave their brother behind. 

They make it to the pit and he gently pushes him onto the couch. Donnie doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself and quickly shifts to the floor, settling into a crouch.

Raph shrugs. “Suit yourself.” 

He plops on the floor next to him, setting down the plate. Donnie looks between him and it. 

“It’s for you,” He stabs the lettuce with a fork, lifting it up. “See? And now you put it in your mouth.”

He holds it out for his brother to take. He earns an furrowed brow.

“You ever use utensils?” He immediately realizes that this is a dumb question. They were clearly treating him like some animal. Why would they give him utensils?

“Look, see, to eat this, you gotta-“ 

The second the word “eat” leaves his lips, Donnie lights up and then slams his face forward. He straightens with a whole mouthful of leaves, salad dropping from his face onto the plate and the floor. Raph stares as he chews, brown eyes alight.

“Sure. You do it your way.” 

Raph eats what’s on the fork and looks over to his father as he rounds the couch, a large bowl and washcloth in hand. He kneels down next to him, dipping the washcloth in and draining it some, running it along the green arm. 

Donnie looks up, pulling his arm back. Splinter’s voice is gentle, posture loose. “I am only trying to remove the grime, my son. Enough to make you more comfortable.” 

Donnie stares, likely not getting a word of it. He leans over, sniffing the rag, deeming it acceptable. He goes back to eating, letting Splinter run it over his arm again. Raph gets up and heads to the kitchen, bumping Leo’s shoulder as he passes by, retrieving a sponge. 

Leo has conveniently moved out of bumping range when he returns. He doesn’t look his way, settling by his brother and the bucket, dipping the unused sponge within. 

It’s not a bad idea to get some off so he doesn’t get sick. At least until he’s comfortable enough around them that they can explain things like showers.  

Raph begins scrubbing the grime off his carapace, stomach churning when bits of crimson flake off. He swallows the unease, using tense muscles to get more off, revealing far more, deeper cracks in carapace. 

He traces one. “What did they do to you?”

Mouth full, Donnie doesn’t answer. Raph goes back to scrubbing

Mikey arrives home as they finish, because, of course he does. Anything to get out of work.

Sensei is trying to wipe him off with one of the good towels, but Donnie’s too busy nuzzling into the fabric to make his work easy. He chuckles lightly, relenting to let him shove his face into it, a churr filling the air. “I’m glad you like it, Donatello, but I’m sure I can find much softer material for you.”

“Awww.” Mikey cooes. “I bet he would like one of Raph’s stuffies.” 

“Collectibles.” Raph corrects heatly. “They’re collectibles. Not for wild turtles.” 

“Is that any way to make our newly discovered bro feel welcome?” Mikey gasps as he frisbees a pizza box. It lands smoothly by Leo, lid flicking open. The scowling leader reaches over to grab a slice. Donnie abandons the towel to investigate the other box. 

Mikey waggles a finger in his face. “Ah-ah-ah. Not for you. Sensei’s orders.” 

Donnie chuffs. Raph grins. “Yeah, I bet he feels real welcome now.” 

Mikey baps his forehead with the pizza box, sitting down across from his as Raph growls, musing. “So is he a big brother or a little brother? ‘Cause he’s totally giving me little brother vibes.”

“He is not.” Raph takes a slice, watching Donnie watch him eat it. “You’re just saying that because you want me to stop calling you a big baby.”

“I’m saying it cause it’s true.” Mikey bristles. “…And it would be nice perk, I’m just saying. And a very nice thing for you to do.” 

“Never gonna happen.”

“Sensei!” 

“I do not know where he belongs.” Splinter bundles the towel. “I suppose, in time, we shall have to see where he shapes in with our family.” 

“Oooh, what if he’s the oldest? He looks like he could be tall.”

“That’s taken.” Leo grumbles into his pizza. “He can be anything else but that.” 

Mikey kicks out his legs. “WHOO! I’m not the baby anymore!” 

Leo chokes, “That is not what I said!” 

“WHOOO!” 

Raph sneaks a pepperoni to Donnie while his father and eldest brother stare at the youngest. When Mikey’s finished making a fool of himself, Splinter turns back to his second eldest. “Tell me. How did you come across your brother? I believe Leonardo mentioned surveillance?”

Raph is all too ready to fill him in on everything, aware of exactly what his father will think about a certain leader’s choices that evening, but then he sees the way Mikey deflates and Leo shrinks in shame, ready for the calm of the evening to crumble. 

He looks to Donnie as he nudges his arm, offering that stupid sadorable look. He pushes him back, setting the pizza out of his reach, and despite knowing that he’ll regret not using the advantage for his father’s favor, he relents to the guilt trying to squirm it’s way up. Leo needs to learn his lesson, but… Uuugggh, Donnie doesn’t deserve to deal with more tension. Fine. Fine!

“We were doing a stake-out on a Footbase when we saw Donnie here get dragged out of a Kraang van and inside.” Leo cringes. Raph extends an olive branch. “He looked in bad shape and I think they wanted to make it worse. Leo and Mikey backed me up as I got him out of there and we gave Dogpound a solid whackdown for his trouble.”

Leo stares at him, eyes wide. Splinter contemplates this, lifting a hand to lay Donnie’s head as he trades subjects, nudging against his robe, to test the fabric or beg for attention, Raph couldn’t tell. Maybe both.

Splinter runs his thumb up and down the side of his head, considering, “You mentioned something about almost leaving him behind?”

Ah, well. He tried.

“Leo was wigging out a little. He thought we should leave Don behind, told us to get out. It… Was a dumb order. So I ignored him.” 

It’s not a total lie. It’s better than the truth. He’s sure Splinter would see through him if his attention wasn’t partly on the content turtle settling on one of his legs, chin resting on hands and eyes half-lided. Splinter rests a hand on his head, tracing one of the bruises, but Donnie seems content. 

“I can see the merit to a quick retreat, but why leave one in need?” Splinter turns, questioning, and Leo looks at his lap. “I-I don’t know, Sensei, I… w-we were outnumbered… I wasn’t really…”

“You must consider all angles, Leonardo.” Splinter chides. “Not only those that protect yours and your brother’s lives, but those that will endanger the lives you intend to save.”

Leo’s eyes dart to Raph and then away, half bowing from his seat. “Hai, Sensei.” 

“Now then.” He traces the sleepy turtle’s forehead. “Let us find your brother a place to rest.” 

***

“What are you doing up?”

Big brown eyes stare back to him as he peeks a head through the curtains. The turtle that’s supposedly his brother sniffs the air. He’s on all fours, low and wary. “Curiosity killed the cat, you know.” 

The turtle freezes again. When nothing comes of Leo’s stare, he continues his investigation. Leo sips his tea, watching him from his island seat. He’s too tired to deal with any more drama. Messing with Raph’s new pet project is only going to backfire. 

He investigates the boilers, undoes the fridge, and then stands to poke around in the freezer, hissing at the cold that seeps into his fingers as he lifts an icepack. Leo watches in a deadpan as he drops it, only to pick up another one, only to get the same result. “Not the smartest, are you?” 

The turtle moves on from the freezer, leaving both doors wide open. Leo takes another sip, getting to his feet and wandering over. It isn’t the first time that he’s had to clean up after messy teens. He doubts this will be the last. He yawns, dropping to a knee and picking up the milk, putting it back where it belongs. He grabs the dumped apple bag and a few apples, walking past the turtle that is now unpacking all of the pans, rinsing them off and then returning them to their rightful place. 

He throws away the carrot that he’d bitten into and grabs the rest of them, rinsing that pack off as well. As he’s setting them with the rest of the veggies, he hears the sink turn on. 

He looks up to find the turtle rinsing off one of the pans. 

Leo stares. The turtle chirps. He drops into his crouch, inserting the pan back into the cabinet in satisfaction. Leo rolls his eyes, “You’re going to ruin the cabinet like that.” 

The turtle repeats the process and Leo shakes his head. He retrieves a dry dish towel, going over to the turtle and drying the pan, showing both side to him. “See? Now it gets put away.” 

He sets it down, placing the towel on his leg with zero faith that this will change anything, and then returns to packing the fridge.

He’s interrupted minutes later with a head directly next to his arm, watching him intently. Leo frowns, “What. You here to watch me clean up your mess?” 

The turtle chirps. He pushes him back. “Just stay over there.” 

The turtle remains where he’s put. Leo gets back to work. 

When he finishes, he gets up to take care of the pans and finds that they are exactly where they’re meant to be, stacked and dried. His brows furrow as he looks to the turtle who had yet to move from his placement. “Did you-?”

The turtle blinks. He relents. “Alright, fine, maybe you’re not totally feral.”

He wanders over to his tea and takes a sip. Ew. Cold.

The turtle creeps over, nudging at his hand. Leo puts a step between them. “Nope. I’m not petting you. That’s a box of weird I am not opening.”

Imploring brown eyes stare into his soul. He sighs, distinctly uncomfortable. “Look, you’re only here because Raph just had to go and get Mikey emotionally attached, and Splinter thinks he sees someone that’s probably long dead by now. And… Raph could have ratted me out. So. I guess I owe him. So you can stay.”

He settles into a glare, staring into the tea. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like you. And if you being here endangers my family…”

He looks up as the turtle slips through the curtain.

”Right.” He mutters to an empty room. “Good talk.” 

***

369 doesn't understand the fascination with monitors. 

His masters messed with them constantly, whenever he was strapped down, long wires leading from him to them. They messed with large, angry-sounding contraptions and fiddled with knobs and buttons. He never liked the machines because they always came with pain. 

It made him wary for when Friend began fiddling with a monitor. He knows it’s one because it switched on for a moment, filling with room with loud roaring and the screen with gray squiggles. Friend seemed to like that, growling his frustrations when it switched off. The noise hurt, loud and scratchy on his brain, so he doesn't trust it around Friend. 

He hopes to encourage him away from it, but quickly gives up when Friend simply pushes his plastron back, snapping something in a rushed, annoyed tone. He slinks away and drops on the blue soft, keeping an eye on Friend and the machine.

He doesn’t worry about Friend’s plan with it. Friend would never cause harm to him, or the others there. Friend is too kind for that.

He does worry about what it could do to Friend. 

Friend works with far more frustration than his masters did. He thinks Friend doesn’t fully understand that this could hurt him. He needs to be here if it tries anything. 

It does, at one point. Friend yanks his hand away with a grunt, putting his finger in his mouth. 369 zips to his side, hissing at the box, warning in to play nice.

He’s pushed away once more, but the monitor does not bite again. 

He settles on blue soft to continue his watch, halfway to a doze when he hears his syllables. 

“Hey, Donnie! Check what I got!” 

He looks up, tilting his head at the bright-smiling turtle waving at him, swiftly translating, Donnie- designation for attention, got- retrieved person, object, thing, and then looking around the room. Does he want him to retrieve a thing? Friend? 

He turns to Friend. (Wanted. Needed. Go.) 

“Don’t get him worked up. I’m doing something.” 

Friend doesn’t look up from the machine. 369 decides that this is wise, considering they don’t know what to expect when they turn their back. He looks back to the approaching turtle. (Busy Friend busy.) 

“Check it out, bro! Now we can finally get that thing off your neck!”

Out- leave, go. Get- retrieve, but what? Thing- object. Neck- throat. 

He doesn’t particularly want to leave… But maybe he was saying he left? He left and retrieved- maybe the object in his hand? But what does that have to do with-

“Snip it right off!”

The object opens and closes, metal snapping shut near his face. Panic surges as the realization sinks in and he scrambles back. (Friend! Friend friend friend help threat-) 

“The heck are you doing?” 

Friend is on his feet now and 369 dives off the couch and to him, sliding on smooth floor, ducking behind his legs. His heart pounds as Bright approached with the threat-object in his hand and he looks up to Friend, desperate for him to understand that new danger.

“Darn it, Mikey- he just calmed down!” 

“I didn’t do anything! I was just-“

“Where did you even get barb cutters?” 

“I found them!” 369 can see the Alpha come in from the hall, watching the proceedings critically, blue eyes shifting down to him. He ducks down a little more, staying submissive as to not risk his support in Bright’s plan. “Online says we can use them to remove the collar. So that’s what I’m gonna do.” 

“You’re going to take that to his neck?” 

“That’s dumb even for you, Mikey.” Alpha chimes in to the discussion, gaze sliding over 369. There’s too many words being passed around from 369 to interpret and follow, but he processes tones and watches Friend’s stance, anxious to see what comes of it. 

“We can’t just leave it there!”

“No one said we should.” Alpha approaches the pit. “I believe the point you’re missing is that you shouldn’t be using these around anyone’s neck.” 

“You do it then!” 

Bright shoves threat-object in his grip and Alpha frowns, “I wasn’t saying that either.”

“Either you do it or I will.” 

“Why do you care so much?” Friend sounds disgruntled, but the threat has left his voice. “It ain’t bothering him.”

“Yeah, well, it bothers me.” Bright crosses his arms, pouting. “He’s not some pet. He’s our brother. They can’t own him. He’s not theirs.” 

Alpha and Friend look to one another. 

“I really don’t care.”

“Figures.”

“He won’t let me get close anyway.” 

Friend kneels down, settling on the back of his legs, drawing 369’s attention to him. “Hey, Donnie. Come 'ere.” 

369 obeys, pushing his beak into the outstretched hand. (Friend threat gone safe?)

He turns to look, to check on its location, but Friend’s hand cups the side of his forehead, blocking his vision and leading his face back. “You’re okay. Leo’s not gonna hurt you or I’m going to behead every Space Heroes figure he has and put them under his pillow every morning for him to find.”

The words are many but the tone is playful. A giggle next to him, a hand on his shoulder, another on metal that protects an otherwise vulnerable neck. He whines and tries to pull away, fingers gripping into the ground, breathing coming in short pants. (Threat stop bad scared scared Friend scared-) 

“Raph.”

“Let him go.”

“How am I-”

“Mikey.” 

The grip releases, he practically falls forward, looking up to Friend in panic. Friend adjusts his stature, holding out an arm, inviting comfort nice safe. He doesn’t hesitate, lurching forward to feel that safety, hands on plastron and face pressed into his neck, soft whines escaping. (Scared scared scared Friend safe) 

“That’s it, Donnie. You’re okay.” Friend breathes steadily, without fear. There’s a hand wrapped around the back of his head, arm tight around his carapace. He shudders and curls in more, trying to calm that panic that shakes his limbs.

“No one’s gonna hurt you.” Friend’s voice is gruff and clear, words soft and caring, ringing with honesty and a promise never to be broken. “You’re safe here.”

The panic bleeds from his system, warmth sinking into skin. The thumb makes gentle motions along the back of his head and he lets it sink in, tracking the motion, letting his breathing follow the pattern.

The pattern pauses, “Okay. He’s good. Careful.” 

Donnie swallows, the feeling at his neck again. He whines at the flash of pain and he’s shushed, metal pressing against the front his throat, loosening the pressure on the back. He squirms, but Friend’s hold traps him. Terror seeps in, stealing the comfort and readying for the pain. (No hurt no hurt Friend scare scare Friend hurting no-) 

“I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

“Keep him still.”

”What do you think I’m doing?” An edge to the tone, before it softens. “You’re doing so good, Donnie. It’ll be over quick. Just gotta stay still.”

(stay still, stay safe safe?)

Friend doesn’t answer. He settles at the warning, squeezing into protective grip, refusing to breathe in case that counts as movement. Fingers against the back of his neck, a cold chill down his spin. Nervous muttering, a soothing voice. He whimpers. A solid snap directly by his head. 

And then Friend is releasing, pulling away to set him down, the metal falling into their laps. Friend traces the skin of his neck and he winces. “His skin’s all… Yellow.” 

“We didn’t do that, did we?” Bright moves into his field of vision, anxiety-ridden, reaching out and then closing his hand as if denying himself contact.

“No. This bruising looks old.” Alpha crouches near them, the threat-object in hand. “He’s had that thing on for a while.”

Friend tosses the metal. “Now he’s not even gonna look at anything like that ever again.” 

Green eyes meet his, “Donnie? Hey, breathe for me, big guy.”

He exhales harshly, the shivers taking over his body, tears pricking as he waits to see what Alpha plans to do with that threat-object now that his neck is unprotected. He doesn’t dare move a muscle, even though he breathes like Friend commands. Friend follows his gaze to Alpha before placing a hand on the side of his head, grumbling, “Get rid of it, Leo.” 

“Right.”

Alpha moves away and 369 almost slumps in relief, pushing against Friend’s hand. (safe safe stay Friend still safe thank you thank you) 

“Nothin’ to be scared of.” Friend leans forward, letting their heads bump. He churs, tears streaking. He knew what to do, how to stay protected. 369 should never have bothered him, never should have fought his grip. (Never never never here safe Friend safe thank you) 

“Let’s get some cream for that.” Friend mutters as he pulls away, bringing him up to his feet. “How’s that sound?”

(leave yes go get) 

He glances over Friend’s shoulder, quickly giving the monitor the stink eye, a soft hiss, and then lets himself be led away. He squeezes warm hands, sniffling as Bright comes up from behind, all worry gone from his posture.

“How’s the tv coming?”

“Don’t ask.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Shut it.”

***

Some nights, Splinter couldn’t help the urge to check on his sons after they settle in bed. His little boys deem themselves to old for tuck-ins and forehead kisses, but it’s something he can get away with once they’re tuckered out. Raphael had made quite a few comments about him doing so for Donatello, but his newfound son didn’t seem bothered at all. It hurts to think about how many years he spent without a warm and loving touch.

When Raphael had proudly exclaimed that he would never let his father get away with such things, his fate had been sealed. 

Splinter entered the hall, passing the meditation room that was still being cleaned out so they could make Donatello a room of his own. 

For the time being, Donatello takes refuge with Raphael, happily at home on the floor on a bed of stuffed animals, pillows, and blankets. He seems perfectly content, but Splinter swears to find him a clean mattress soon. 

He opens the door and finds Raphael sound asleep, snoring away with a turtle plush tucked under his arm. Worry stirs when Splinter realizes that Donatello is not in his place of rest, immediately turning to his youngest’s room to see if he had crept in. The room holds only one turtle, and Splinter has to take a moment, instructing himself to calm down. Do not panic. Find him, Yoshi. 

He heads out into the main room, every inch of his body on alert, and then he picks up on a voice. He recognizes his eldest’s tone, startled to hear it so late in the afternoon, leaking out from the kitchen. He follows it and peeks within, finding Leonardo sitting on the floor near the island, a plate of slices apples near his legs, and Donatello nibbling on one, his attention trained on the frustration in the eldest’s tone. 

"-and then he said I was the problem! Me! What did I do?!" Leonardo turns to Donatello, who chirps in response. “Right?! And it’s like- yeah, sure, I’m better than you, but only because I take training seriously! There’s a lot more to ninjitsu than punching people or knowing how to fling a chain! Of course he made me leader- it’s basically been my job since forever! But now I have the title and it’s like it doesn’t even mean anything. I do everything to keep these guys safe and it’s like none of it matters! Neither of them respect me or take me seriously! I’m always the bad guy!”

He sinks in his spot, arms crossed and an irritable pout darkening his features. Donatello swallows the apple, nudging his shoulder with his forehead, churring lightly.

Leo's shoulders smooth out, hand coming up to rest on his head, brushing over healing scars. "You get it, right? It’s not like I wanted you to be hurt, I just… I have to protect them. I dream about it all the time. Of them being hurt and I can’t do anything to stop it. I can’t sleep. I can’t relax. I have to be ready for- for anything. For them to be taken away, I… Some days I feel like…” His voice quiets, eyes on his brother, heavy in pain. “Like it already happened.” 

At this, Splinter steps away. 

His son deserves his privacy to be vulnerable. He does not have a right to eavesdrop, even though he categorizes his son’s words, planning to meditate on them and see if there’s a way to help his son heal. He knows Leonardo sets to much pressure on his own shoulders, takes training for more seriously than his brothers, but he never imagined- 

It seems that the memory had faded, but it’s effect on his boys had not.

He heads back to Raphael’s room, refitting Donatello’s makeshift nest, and giving Raphael his dues. He heads to Michelangelo next. Both boys relax in their sleep, snuggling with their respective animals. He returns to the kitchen some time later, deciding to send his boys to bed before they find themselves worn by lack of sleep.

He finds them both participating in just that. Leonardo is curled on his side, carapace against the island. His younger brother’s shell to his plastron, a protective arm over the bridge that’s finally filling in. They breath in perfect sync, apples forgotten on the floor, two long-separated pieces connecting to make the brothers whole. 

Donatello stirs, chirping sleepily when he moves to lift his peaceful eldest. He hushes him gently. “Let him rest.”

Donatello follows as he heads to his room, carefully laying his son onto themed sheets, tucking him in and watching patiently until he settles. He presses a kiss to his forehead, turning to lead Donatello back to his nest, but the young turtle scoots himself under the blankets. He crawls up until his head pops out, wrapping his arms around his brother, snuggling into his warmth. Leonardo leans into it in sleep, resting his head against his plastron, responding to the soft churr with one of his own.

Splinter leaves them, heart full.

“Oyasumi, my sons."

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Held At Gunpoint / Failed Escape / Abandoned

Mikey takes it all back.

Donnie is so right. Being ignored is the worst.

Mikey's never been good with dealing with his brother's arguments. He's even worse at knowing what to do when they delve into the suffocating silence that might as well be a fourth brother all its own, standing between Leo and Raph to keep them from ever getting close.

His hotheaded brother is glaring a hole into the invisible nuisance, but Mikey doubts that'll do anything to get rid of him. He's far too entertained with the quiet, only leaving Leo to climb on Mikey's shoulders and make him feel small every time his mouth opens. Mikey keeps shrugging him off, smiling while his heart races, speaking despite the dead-eyed stare. 

Even if they won't talk to each other, he tries to get them to talk to him, to make things a little more normal and the atmosphere less toxic. He shoots his shot with as many icebreakers as he can stomach.

They manage to ignore him for a while, but Raph suddenly lifts his head to give him a solid thwap on the back of his head. He stumbles forward, bumping his older brother.

Leo pauses to pass him a dark look and he giggles in the face of what he refuses to interpret as hate, anxiety festering when he doesn't get a vocal reprimand. He's smothered, unable to get the thick, ugly feeling out of his chest as he presses onto topic after topic, earning a shove into the walls for his troubles. 

Leo is out the manhole by the time he gets his footing. Raph glares at him, hissing, "Read the room, Mikey. No one cares." 

"But we're in a tunnel." Mikey responds with a nervous laugh, yelping when Raph throws a punch and darting for the open manhole.

He hoists himself up as his brother growls, welcomed above with bright lights and a gentle wind. The feeling in his lungs is replaced with cool breeze and distant music as he rises to his feet, hopping a few steps as he makes room for his older brother, spinning to get a reading on Leo's location.

"Where'd he-"

"There he goes!"

Mikey takes off, not even bothering to look back. He throws himself to the top of the roof, giddy as he takes off at his top speed, following Leo's distant steps. He leaps onto a water tower, sliding off the side of the roof, grabbing onto a pole light to swing himself over the street below and flip onto the rooftop. He whoops on the top of his lungs, fists in the air and heartbeat wild for a new reason, wonderful city air filtering through his lungs.

Raph lands beside him and Mikey doesn't wait to see what snide remark is about to leave his mouth.

"Onward, my ninja!"

Mikey has no idea where they're going, but he keeps Leo within view as he races through the bright city and pushes the limits of what his impulse will allow. He scares a cat, kicks a beer can to the alleyway below, and accidentally destroys some poor New Yorker’s laundry line. Raph never lets him leave his sight, so Mikey always has an audience.

After spooking an entire flock of pigeons, Mikey looks back at him to gauge his reaction, but he only rolls his eyes.

At least one brother’s mood has been lifted. 

He changes direction and charges for his older brother. Raph reluctantly slows for the offered full-body momentum two-handed high-five, and then they're running again, side-by-side like brothers should. 

He obliges him without words exchanged when Mikey wants to be swung to the next rooftop.

There's a definite chance that he's going to slam into the billboard, but Mikey doesn't, because Raph wouldn't let that happen.

Leo looks up, just in time to skid to a stop and double back, catching his outstretched hand as his heel slips off the parapet and his limbs flail.

He laughs at the panic, not at all concerned by the fact that he almost pitched off the side of the roof because his stance was ever-so-slightly off.

Leo drags him away from the edge, wide eyes hardening in exasperation before he throws down his arm and is taking off again.

Mikey looks back as Raph catches up, beaming as he rejoins his brother, cartwheeling to his side.

Leo stops, and eventually, so do they.

Raph lands next to Mikey and watches his younger brother dash away, coming up behind Leo to sling an arm around his shoulder. The hothead can’t understand how he can play nice when Leo clearly deserved some choice words, but no one ever asks his opinion. Their fearless leader continues to peer down through his monocular, neither acknowledging nor removing the nuisance.

Raph plants himself nearby, close enough to hear but far enough to remove the temptation of pushing him off the roof. Plus, if Leo wants to fight, he’s going to have to cross the distance.

“So.” He states as Mikey squints at the ground below, trying to see what Leo must. “Do we get to know why you dragged us out here or what?”

“I told you.” Leo adjusts the lens. “Mission time.”

“Sweet!” Mikey pulls away as the eldest straightens. “You haven’t been very mission-y since we brought Donnie home.”

Leo frowns. Heat flares in Raph’s gut.

“You guys were preoccupied, so I was following leads on my own.”

“Bro.” Mikey whines, a real disappointment under the pout. “The solo gig is getting old.”

“A leader needs to minimize danger.” Leo announces as if they should care. “I collected you when you were needed.”

“Didn’t answer the question.”

Leo looks at Raph. Raph watches the flies ravage a trash bag. 

“Remember that girl?” Leo peers at the large building, gaze hard when Raph gives him a disgruntled look. There have only ever been two girls that his brother has brought up more than once, and only one of them remains nameless. “The one the Kraang took back when-”

“We first started beating bot butt, yeah.” Raph grumbles bitterly. Kinda hard to forget a loss that bad.

“She was so scared.” Mikey says quietly. The mood drop instantly has Raph’s eyes narrowed, accusation broadcasted loud and clear in their leader’s direction.

Leo ignores it, like he does with everything and everyone else that he doesn’t want to be bothered to deal with. “I’ve been keeping an eye open for that van. I found it the other day. Interrogated the creep inside.” Raph bristles as Leo takes an object out of his belt, cracked along the edges so it would fit. All that’s left is a hexagon shape. “This logo was everywhere inside. I knew it was important, somehow.”

He points at the towering building, lined with the letters TCRI, a large hexagon underneath them. “Tonight, while I was… Clearing my head, I saw that, and I knew.”

Raph has a couple better choice words for his tantrum, some of which Leo has used on him in the past.

“Knew what?” Mikey asks, always five steps behind. Leo sighs, “If there’s any way to find her, it has to be in there.”

“Says who?”

Again, ignored. “There are too many Kraang for me to go in alone. I need back-up.”

Leo seems uncomfortable admitting this fact. Raph has no sympathy, grumbling, “If you want back-up, get Splinter.”

Mikey picks up what he puts down. “Yeah, dude! We aren’t your back-up. We’re your team.” 

“You know what I mean.” Leo presses on the monocular so it folds in on itself. “Now let’s survey the place. Perfect ninja stealth. If this doesn’t check out, Snake gave me some more. There’s a mechanics place a few blocks from here that might be worth a look.”

“You’re going to an awful lot of trouble for some rando human.” Raph comments as tight knuckles grip the parapet. “Sounds like fearless has favorites.”

“It’s completely different.” Leo shoots firmly, because they both know what he’s challenging. “Half the danger is gone, and they aren’t wired for battle. They have no idea that we found their secret base.” 

“It shouldn’t matter.”

“Yes, it should, especially when the thing we’re saving has the potential to be dangerous to us.” 

“He is not a thing and he’s not dangerous.” 

“Which you only discovered after taking every stupid risk imaginable!”

Raph wonders how hard Leo would hit if he were to slam him off the roof right then and there. With his thick skull, probably not hard enough to knock sense into him.

“You saw what they can do.” Leo’s stance stays strong. “I don’t want to imagine what they might be doing to that civilian.”

“Don’t you turn this around on me.” Raph growls. “Don’t play like you’re the hero. Heroes try to save everyone.” 

“I may not be a hero, but I am your leader. And it’s your duty to follow me when I say we have a mission. All your insolence is doing is putting her life in jeopardy. Now who’s picking favorites?”

“I am not.”

“So you’ll come?” 

Raph grinds his teeth. Mikey looks over from where he leans on the parapet, too close and far to be safe. “She’s really in there?”

For a brief moment, the leader’s arrogance falters. “That’s the hope.”

Mikey turns to Raph. Raph hunches over, growl leaking out as soft baby blue bore hopefully into him, pleading and demanding in ways that he’ll never forgive himself for resisting.

He stands tall, words only for Mikey. “Been waiting to get these suckers all week. Pay back’ll be sweet.”

His little brother’s eyes light up and Leo nods his acceptance. “First, we survey. If the break out happens and things go south, then you can go buck wild.”

“Finally.” He can’t help if his grin is slightly sadistic. “A plan I can get behind.” 

Casey Jones wakes up with a groan. 

He drags himself up from the ground, sweaty gear clinging tightly to skin. He rubs his face when his world spins around him, looking at the empty alleyway. The blur slowly sorts itself as he rises to sit, leaning heavily on the dumpster.

The hockey stick blade is cracked in half, scorch marks along the intact edges. He tosses it to the side, quickly running his hand along his chest with a wince. The cheap chest protector that he ‘borrowed’ from school took the blunt of the damage. There's a massive black splotch on it now, rust peeling off. 

He’s not looking forward to explaining that.

His chest burns lightly when he moves, but he’s alive, so that’s a plus.

He rubs his eyes, hand reaching out before him, trying to locate his hockey sti-

A large shadow comes out of nowhere.

His gaze shoots up in alarm.

He hits the nearby wall, tight grip bunching the collar of his shirt and jacket. His arms go out, locking over the limb that keeps him against the wall, skin pressing against- fur?

His heart skips a beat, and then stops.

That's a rat.

That's a giant, leering, angry rat.

His scream is cut off with a hand- paw??- over his mouth. And the rat, not finding itself to be terrifying enough, decides to see how close it can come to ridding his soul from his body. "Where is my son?" 

He removes his hand. Casey squeaks, braver than he thought he could be in the face of the literal Demon Rat. 

He flashes back to every moment that he'd swatted, kicked, or swung an object at a rat- and knows instantly that this is the day that the infamous Casey Jones dies.

"He is large, green, and do not attempt to lie. His scent is faint, but it is on you."

Casey doesn't know a lot about the Demon Rat, but he's never heard legend of it having- a turtle kid.

He phases in and out of shadows too- which was, weird? What about the Demon’s red eyes peeking out of the dark, taunting hisses echoing before it strikes? This rat was invisible until he wanted to be seen, and definitely not some crazed, mindless animal. He was like a shadow, or- a ninja.

Casey can feel the shivers slowing as he takes this in, replaced with more questions than he can process and a stubborn determination to get answers.

As long as he doesn't pass out.

Or die at this massive rat's hands.

The grip tightens. His heart bangs his ribs.

"I didn't hurt 'im!" Casey gasps because that's probably what he cares about most. It's the first thing that his pops always asks, whenever he disappears. "He’s okay! I just- gave him food. My sandwich. Got him away from some creeps. He ran off!"

"Where was he headed?" The rat seems skeptical, but it's easier for Casey to breathe now. Evidently, it was not only from the panic crushing his lungs.

"I-I don't-" Casey pauses, thinking to the flash of pink that had consumed his vision before the black. He squeezes his eyes shut, to avoid looking into deadly glare and to focus. He traces the evening's events back to the ones blasting a similar color. 

His eyes open, wide. "They got him."

He doesn't consider how this might affect the rat until he's pressed firmly against the alley wall. "Who?"

Casey doesn’t know if he’s more freaked by the rat man or the idea that the creeps got their hands on the turtle. "W-Weird guys, I dunno! They got suits and the same face and lasers ah-and walk around w-without heads or- or arms-"

He's released, falling on his rear, spine knocking against the wall.

Casey scrambles to expand the little distance, knees to his chest and a hand flat over his heart. He's pretty sure this is what a heart attack feels like. Blurry vision, painful heartbeats, wheezing breaths- yep, definitely dying. He stays curled and shaking as the rat man moves away from his position-

-moves- moves away?

Casey blinks as his surroundings clear. The rat isn't looking at him anymore. He's looking off into the distance, kinda like his dad does when...

"No." He breathes. "Not again."

He's massive and terrifying and probably also wants to eat him, but he suddenly seems more human than most of the idiot humans Casey's ever talked to.

"Um." Casey swallows. "Are you-"

The rat looks at him. Casey's hands shake. His eyes dart for his hockey stick.

And then, he hesitates.

"I- uhm, I can help."

The rat stares at him, suddenly expressionless.

This is such a bad idea. Such a bad-

Casey clasps his hands. He pictures the trembling shell and terrified brown eyes.

"I can show you where I found the freaks." He blurts. "Maybe they'll take him there. It's pretty close."

Silence stretches.

His voice goes high. "Please don't eat me..."

Casey wonders if he's really doing this, teaming up with one of the germiest, most horrifying balls of fur to take on a undead army to save a green mutant he'd just met. Woah. That would be such a cool comic book. An even cooler movie. Man, why won’t this rat guy hear him out? 

"Very well."

Casey's eyes widen. Whaaaaaaaaaaat?

"Lead the way."

Casey flicks down his mask, and grins.

“Booya.”

Scarred plastron slams the table as his masters force him in place, cold metal locked over his jaw to keep him from moving his head. Pressure remains on his shells, tight grips locked over his arms, and bad-bad-pain crackles behind him.

It sounds higher than it normally is and his masters were more aggressive with transportation so they must be mad at him. It swirls terror in his chest and he has no way to stop it because he’s been bad and he knows it. 

They only have the bad-bad-pain when they think he won’t be perfect-obedient-good and he knows he won’t be because he hasn’t been practicing in so, so long but he has to try. 

He doesn’t dare move as one of his masters screeches. A door opens as something cold touches his plastron, feeling the bone. It slides shut as the hand travels upward. Another hand touches his side. There’s a second hand at his head. The first forces open his mouth; the second scraps against his teeth.

He squeezes his eyes shut, forcing his breath not to hitch. No movement. Don’t move.

A needle enters his arm. He can feel it taking something.

The hand in his mouth leaves. He swallows the welling saliva, metallic taste on his tongue and down his throat. He’s determined to be as perfect-obedient-good as he can be. They continue the examination and he tracks the different steps, missing the warm contact desperately.

The hands finally pull away, leaving only the contact of the masters holding him down.

They turn away from him, and the room descends into clinking glass and the silence of humming machines. He knows better than to think that means no communication. Whatever they’re think-saying, it must be bad if they don’t want him to know.

He lies there. He lies there and lies there and stays perfectly still- wasn’t this easy? Didn’t this use to be easy?

His fingers twitch, and he immediately tenses them, eyes darting to make sure none of the Kraang noticed. Be good be good- he could be good- it’s hard so hard- he’s too use to the new easy, the easy with more reward than not getting hurt- soft eyes, gentle hands, filling snacks, low voices, soft nests-

He chirps low, wishing Friend was with him, aching to hear his voice. He shouldn’t wish for that, he knows, because he shouldn’t want anything at all. He shouldn’t want to go back so deeply that everything twists and hurts knowing he never will.

He sniffles, watching his masters work, wondering if there was a title for a room- a cell- a place that safe, that calm, that comfortable. A place that someone wants to go back too.

A place he never should have left.

Something cold touches the base of his neck. 

He flinches at the unexpected contact.

He knows he’s made a mistake even before his world becomes an overwhelming sensation of fire and agony. He can’t scream- never never never- or they’ll do it again so he presses his skull into the frigid metal and fights to keep his back from arching, releasing the whine only once the bad-bad-pain pulls away.

It’s hot and achy and bad all over now. He falls limp with a sound that wells against his throat, breathing fast- stop stop- as warm sorrow streaks his face. He didn’t mean to- never means to- but that doesn’t matter when the bad happens anyway.

The door opens and the usual clank of feet is replaced a slam of rapid steps. “Kraang!”

A screech echoes and 369 opens bleary eyes at the alarm in it.

“Kraang must not allow those who are known as turtles to do that which is known as leave.”

“The ones who are known as turtles might be after that which is designated Subject 369.”

The Kraang over him speaks. He looks up, careful not to movie his head, heart pounding in new confusion. They’re here for him? Why? He was bad, so bad- he left.

“The Kraang might consider completing that which is known as handing Subject 369 over.”

His breath catches, eyes wide, hope tangled in disbelief.

“Kraang cannot be serious with the thoughts Kraang shares with Kraang.” 

“Kraang is very serious with the thought that Kraang shares with Kraang.”

A cold hand at the back of his neck. 369 stays as still as possible, silently pleading that the Kraang obey. He doesn’t care how the turtles punish him for leaving. Any pain they give is earned. He wants to go back. He’ll be so good, this time. He’ll do anything.

“If those which are known as turtles want that which is known as Subject 369, Kraang will grant the prize that is sought.”

There’s a prick against his neck and his world immediately swirls into a fog of colors.

The pressure leaves and he’s being dragged off the table. He can’t feel his limbs as he attempts to rise, only to blink and find himself on the ground. His shoulder aches and his head throbs. Blurs move and his neck itches, sensation prickling down his spine.

(Friend) He tries to stand and topples on his side. (Friend help) 

“Kraang is that which as known as a genius.”

A leering shadow, a familiar terror, and he remains on the floor.

He can’t stand. He can’t think. It’s wrong. (Scared)

“Kraang knows how to best serve Kraang Prime.”

Something in the distance beeps.

The world goes dark.

Chapter Text

Conditioning / Mind Control / Forced to Hurt Someone Else

Raph hates the color pink.

He never really cared before. It was just a color, a color that was technically nicer than red. Red meant pain and bleeding and anger- pink was supposed to be sunsets and flowers and all those nice things that gave a sense of calm. Red was everything he was; pink was everything he's not.

Today, as he makes swift Kraang ka-bobs with two sparking skulls, he decides that pink is worse than anything red can be.

The bodies slump over as his brothers come up behind him. Leo delicately plucks one of the skulls at Raph’s over-the-shoulder offering, annoyingly careful considering it already had a stab wound. He turns the corner and puts it up to the scanner.

The door slides open and the brothers rush through as one.

They make themselves scarce as a Kraang bot looks over its shoulder to the closing door. It goes back to its work, unconcerned by the mystery.

Other bots litter the room, presiding over their screens.

“Look,” Leo nudges him, pointing down from the rafter and to one of them under a scrawl of Kraang writing. There's a girl on it, skinny, bruised, in desperate need of a shower, but otherwise untouched. He can’t believe that she’s alive. And still human.

Was she a side project? Kidnapped earlier and left to rot?

Is that what they did to Donnie? Left him scared and alone in some cage until they got around to brutalizing him?

Sensei said they were small enough to cup in his hands. Too weak to flip over when they got stuck on their shells.

Raph wonders how long they waited before tormenting the literal baby. He wonders if they even hesitated, if there was any part of them that saw the infant for the fragile creature it was. How long it took before they stopped caring. 

Was he always the timid mutant that shivered under blankets when he slept, or did he have some spirit in him before they bled it out through the cracks in his shell?

He wants the Kraang to find out what it would be like to take his place. To get stuck under a stronger, more heartless species' thumb. He can play scientist too- see how long it takes for them to bleed, test their durability when something five times their size crushes them, examine how much effect their electric weapons have when pressed against pink flesh. He wondered if they breathed, if squeezing a fleshy part would make them choke and gasp for air.

They’re not the only ones who can introduce new definitions to the word pain.

“Raph.” 

He whips his head around, malicious rage locking on cool judgement.

Leo looks him up and down. Raph realizes that he’s completely locked up.

He forces the visible tension from his bones, exhaling in a soft growl. The Kraang continue to work, only able to keep functioning because he’d get an earful if he gives into the lava boiling his blood. He doesn't really care, lectures are a part of life, but Donnie already had to deal with so much tension. Seeing them come back home only for Raph to get reamed for endangering something or another would only stress the poor kid out.

The door opens.

Raph looks to his brothers, as Leo disappears and Mikey jumps down after him. 

A Kraang chirps in alarm. As attention shifts, Raph unleashes a spray of throwing stars.

Most lose their heads and Raph is quick to throw them into one another, knocking the balls of disgusting slime out cold. The last has its hand stuck in the console. Raph tears off the other one, and then slams it into the screen behind it, drilling the mechanical shell into the sparking machinery.

He leans over, leveling his sai in front of the living, breathing part. 

It squirms as far back from the sharp point as it can, eyes wide in panic. He taps the metal. “Since your kind isn’t the brightest, you get two tries. That girl-” He gestures to the screen. “Where is she?”

“Those known as the turtles cannot-” 

There’s no warning when he hoists it up and slams it into the screen with all the fury that it’s voice triggers.

It caves inward and the Kraang screeches.

Raph grins as it panics, resting the pointy edge against it. “Let’s try this again.”

The Kraang stares at it’s reflection in the blade, shaking.

“Where. Is. That girl?”

April paces her cell.

She can feel the Kraangs’ unrest. It started out as a bare prickle of sensation, like the itch of a mosquito bite that won't go away.

It’s stronger now. And it has something to do with her. She thinks.

She rubs her forehead, trying to lock down on the Feeling. To explain it.

There has to be an explanation.

The Kraang think she should have so much more power unlocked. They jabbed a needle into her brain and everything. So why doesn’t she? Why can she feel them but not their specific emotions. Why can she hear their thoughts but not communicate back? What’s the point of being some kind of crazy telepath and not get the perks?

She sure gets the headaches. 

She peeks out the tiny window. The hall is empty.

She wishes one of the Kraang would come get her if she’s really the issue here. Then she could scan its mind and find out what’s going on. There aren’t any alarms blaring, so nothing has escaped. She goes over to the cot and sits down.

She brings a hand to her forehead, trying to concentrate on the impending Feeling.

She can feel the Kraang all around her like one solid presence, a single song- their minds echoing similar lyrics with slightly different tunes. She can feel tiny dots of other consciousness amidst them, fear and anger a haze when she reaches out. Scared of what? Angered why?

She still can’t feel her father. She doesn’t know what that means.

April takes a deep breath, ignoring the way her heart decides to start beating in her brain, loud in the silence, palpitations sinking in when she thinks about him.

They use him to get to her. They won’t kill him as long as she lives.

She inhales, and then goes back to the Kraang.

She focuses on the tunes, sorting them out in the melody, catching onto the dips. Fear, fear, fear, surprise, fear- oh.

Several tunes cease. She’s taken aback.

She tries to remind herself that this doesn’t mean death, but a small part hopes for it. Serves them right, alien freaks. 

A bigger part knows that they keep all kinds of creatures here, and a lot of them don’t mind killing whatever they can sink their teeth into. She doesn’t want to be a snack for a run-away monster.

Something slams into the wall.

It startles a shriek out of her and she falls off her cot, head swiveling towards the door in frantic anticipation. She feels it- the flicker before silence of a mind right outside her door. A Kraang gone unconscious. And before she can decide if she wants to look, she hears voices.

Non-Kraang-ones.

“Jeez, Raph, drag them all down here, why don’t you?”

“Oh shut up. He practically saw us.”

“He did not- you just wanted an excuse to punch him.”

April rises to her feet, taking careful steps towards the door. 

“So what if I did?”

“We’re on a mission.”

She looks out the window. Two creatures are standing outside it, facing one another, teeth bared and weapons in their three-fingered hands. They’re green, massive shells on their backs, and April has the weirdest Feeling-

“Yeah, and I’m the one who knows where we’re going ‘cause I’m not wasting time being over-controlling.”

“Oh, I’ll show you over-controlling-”

A face takes up the entirely of the window.

“Hi!”

She screams, throws herself back, and lands pretty painfully in her rear.

“Mikey-”

“I found her! Tada~!”

“You scared her-”

“I found her-!”

“How do we open the door?”

April knows those voices. She stands up again, walking tentatively over to the window.

“This, maybe?”

Their backs are to her, opening the panel.

Red mask shoves blue mask out of the way. “I got this.”

“What are you-”

He stabs it. April watches in utter bafflement as he decides to stab it several times.

Even more baffling, is that as Blue Mask drags Red Mask away from the sparking panel, the door actually slides open. Orange mask swoops in immediately, “Hi again!”

“I know who you are.” She blurts, scanning them. “We’ve met… Kind of.”

Blue Mask releases Red Mask, turning his attention on her. “Yes. We're the good guys. We tried to save you.”

She looks at Orange Mask’s open arms and frowns, “You came back?”

“Of course.” Blue Mask responds immediately. “We’re sorry it took so long.”

“You came,” She mutters to herself, quieter. Then she forces a smile and holds out her hand to Orange Mask. “I’m April.”

“Mikey!” He gives her a high-five which, um, okay, and then rushes over to his friends.

He presents Blue Mask with open arms and a wide berth, “My brothers Leo-” He circles around to sling an arm around Red Mask. He doesn’t move, arms tightly crossed, staring her down. “-and Raph!”

“Hi.” She smiles awkwardly when Leo bows. “Still April.”

“We don’t bother you?”

She looks at Raph, considering. “You’re the first non-human things that I’ve met who haven’t growled at me, shot at me, or tried to take a bite of me.”

“This whole green and brown situation…” She waves at them. Leo shifts uncomfortably. “I’m not too worried about it.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “You screamed.”

April levels him with disapproval. Even if she is in some distress, she's not a whimpering damsel, and she's definitely not about to take sass from a heroic Martian. “He came out of nowhere.” 

“Gonna ask what we are?”

Leo shoots him a look. “Raph.”

Raph doesn’t budge. Mikey looks at her, wide-eyed.

“As long as you get me out of here.” She juts her chin, “I really don’t care.” 

A beat of silence, and then he nods, “Cool.”

“Great.” Leo moves over to her. She can feel the anxious disapproval radiating off of him. He doesn’t want to be here. “Let’s get moving, shall we?”

He makes a sweeping motion for the door and she starts walking, “Do you know where my dad is?” 

“No.” Mikey answers as his brothers rush down ends of the hall. “Do you?”

“I haven’t seen him in a while.” Her heart thuds. She swallows thickly. “You’re- you’re going to save him too, right?”

“Sounds like fun!” He beams as Leo calls, “Can’t go back the way we came!”

“This way!” Raph calls back.

“Coming!” Mikey, without a word or look or hint of warning, quite literally sweeps her off her feet. This time, she’s able to swallow the cry before it can escape, caught in his arms and then flying with him down the hall. “Precious cargo!”

He slides around the corner. Leo’s rushing next to him, arms out behind him.

A part of her wants to insist on being returned to her feet, but she also knows that these are clearly well-trained individuals. With how nauseating the passing walls and turns are making her, she's pretty sure would never be able to keep up.

She squeezes her eyes shut, “Where are you going?!”

“I don’t know!” Mikey sounds ecstatic. “That’s what makes it interesting!”

“We are looking for an exit!” Leo cuts in, halfway through his final exclamation, their voices colliding harshly. “Don’t worry. We know what we’re doing.” 

He sounds confident, so she chooses to believe him, right up until the second where the alarms start blaring.

Mikey skids to a stop, dropping her to her feet, and her arms fly out in a swift attempt to return her very disrupted core balance. 

“What’s happening?” She breaths.

“Is that us?” Raph demands at the same time.

They look at each other. When he looks at Leo, she does too.

“We have to assume it is.” Leo decides. “We can’t keep going around in circles.”

“How do you suggest we get out?” Raph throws at his arms. “Ask nicely for directions?!”

“Maybe we should double back.” Leo looks over his shoulder. “I saw a patrol but maybe they’re gone by now.”

“Or maybe they’re on their way here!” Raph snaps. “Got any big ideas, fearless?”

“There’s a ship pad above us.” April offers, wishing the world would top spinning for three seconds. Did she miss a feeding? “Like, Kraang ships. They put me in one once.”

Leo frowns, “You want us to steal a ship?”

“Making suggestions?”

Mikey throws up his hand, “I vote we steal the ship.”

“We are not stealing a ship.”

Raph shrugs. “I’m on board for that.”

“We’re not stealing an alien space ship-”

Mikey whines, “Why not?!”

“Because we have nowhere to stick a-!”

“…Fourth turtle?”

They all stare at her. She points across the hall, trying to work out if her vision is still messed up. “There’s a fourth turtle?”

Their heads whip to look. They all tense. “Donnie?!”

The fourth turtle stares at them, completely unmoving, on all fours.

The brothers around her are explosions of emotions.

He doesn’t feel like anything at all.

She has a Feeling. And it’s not a good one.

She opens her mouth.

Leo looks at Raph. Raph doesn't move.

Mikey bolts towards him.

The turtle reacts.

“MIKEY WAIT!” 

She finally feels something.

Hate.

If Mikey's guard had been even slightly up, he might have been prepared to dodge.

Why would he need to?

This was Donnie. The sweet, silly, wide-eyed mutant who loved games and cuddly hugs and smacking the comics out of Mikey's hands when he tries reading for more than five minutes because the big baby can't survive without attention. The brother who somehow managed to get past Raph's rough exterior on day one and convinced perfectionist Leo to give him talking lessons without anyone else knowing when or how. It's Donnie.

It's Donnie. The brother who should be home. The mutant that's lurking in Kraang halls. 

The creature who's launched himself at Mikey with more bloodlust than he's ever seen.

Mikey gets enough time to force a stop and think, he's going for the throat, before he's on the ground.

He hits the floor with a thud, landing hard on his elbow, looking to the side in shock as Raph and Donnie collide. They go rolling across smooth tile and Donnie's snarl rings through the air. They come to a stop and Raph manages to kick their brother off with a frustrated cry. He doesn't go far, but Leo still drags April away from the tussle. "Raphael!"

Raph rolls to a knee. "Busy!"

Leo looks toward Mikey as he unravels his nunchucks.

Mikey faces their angry brother. "Donnie!"

Donnie ignores him and launches himself back into the fight. Mikey tries to think of a way to separate them, but then Kraang fire is crossing the space and he has to change trajectory.

He moves for the crowd that have planted themselves at the doorway and releases his blade to swing his chucks. It embeds into one Kraang head and he tears the skull off the body, using it like a makeshift flail to take out the others. The Kraang's fire comes too close, radiating a flicker of heat across his shoulder, and he flips back to avoid it, tearing the skull off and chucking it like a baseball. One Kraang hits another that hits another and Mikey grins, until he realizes that more are incoming.

Another shot barely misses. "Leo-!"

With a frantic cry and a quick step back, he tries to come up with a better plan because that is a lot of Kraang.

Then his big brother is by his side and shoving him into the hall. He grabs a Kraang weapon, hits the button to slam the door shut, and then fires at the keypad. He ducks through the door right before it shuts and then fires at the pad on their side. Mikey flinches as a Kraang slams into it but Leo throws down the gun, turning back to their brothers and the abandoned civilian. 

"We are out of- Raph!" The bitter anger gives way to shock and Mikey's heart jumps to his throat.

The brawl has not taken a good turn. Raph has managed to restrain him safely onto his carapace, but Donnie doesn't seem too grateful for the care taken. He snaps his teeth at Raph’s face and he rears it back, blurting, “What has gotten into you?”

“I told you.” Leo speaks up, grabbing Mikey’s arm when he goes to join them. “Must have turned the second that he got into their hands.”

“But how?” Mikey asks, at the same time that Raph argues, “That doesn’t make sense!”

 “Must be some kind of conditioning. It doesn’t matter. We can’t take him home like this.”

“We can’t leave him!”

“He’s clearly not stable!” Leo’s voice goes high, “Look at him!”

Raph does, indignation speckled with conviction. “I’m not leav-”

“We cannot risk-”

“No!” Raph jolts up, targeting a glare directly at Leo, barely freeing any room at all. And yet, Donnie manages to get enough force to buck underneath him. Raph’s hand slips, shocked gazed lurching back to the restrained turtle, hurrying to lock him back down.

Donnie doesn’t hesitate to act, and then Mikey gets a perfect view of teeth locked over flesh, sharp talons dragging lines along tough plastron as scarlet streams drip onto scarred skin. Leo gasps, and Mikey takes advantage of his surprise to free his arm.

"Donnie." Raph spits through gritted teeth. Mikey expects him to be furious. He expects him to lash out. Raph stays still, pupils pinprick small and eyes blown wide with pain, and breathes, "Donnie, it's me."

Donnie growls at him, and Mikey can't find a hint of remorse in his glare. 

He creeps to their side as Raph tries again, begging, "Big guy, it’s me. You're-"

Then Donnie chokes, a quick, coughed gurgle, and Mikey realizes that any blood not sticking to skin must be streaming past teeth and down to his throat. He does it again. Raph bites his bottom lip to muffle his cry as he latches on harder. 

"Donnie!" Mikey snaps as he grabs at his face. "Bad Donnie! Stop it!"

Donnie only chokes again, waterlogged and harsh, blood smearing around his mouth. Mikey presses into the sides of his jaw, trying to find some way to dislodge, and Leo snaps, “Pressure point!”

"Where?!"

"Don't h-hurt him." Raph gasps, only for Leo to rebuke, "He's hurting you!"

"He- doesn't- want t-to!"

"Guys?!"

"JUST LET ME-"

Leo darts forward. Donnie jerks his head to tear the skin. Raph screams. And Mikey reacts.

He slams a hand down on his atom's apple and Donnie gasps in pain, giving Raph precious seconds to tear his arm away. He coughs violently, blood flying out from his lips as he curls on the floor. Mikey instinctively reaches out in concern. Donnie hacks and spits and then rears around on Mikey, startling his grip loose. Mikey lands hard on his carapace and Donnie is prevented from going with him when Leo grabs his shoulders and throws him into the wall.

Then Raph is weakly shoving Leo away, shouting, "Don't hurt him!"

Leo looks frazzled. "He was hurting Mikey!"

"It's okay." Mikey says as he gets up. "I'm okay."

Raph drops at his side when Donnie doesn't move. "Donnie? Donnie!"

Donnie gets up then, slow and shaky, dilated eyes a confused kind of glazed.

He coughs, little, pained chirp slipping free, splattering the floor with red.

Raph grips his shoulder, tight. "Hey, it's okay. Come back to me. Come back. It's okay."

A moment of pause. Donnie looks up. The cloud fades.

Then his arm shoots up to grab Raph's skull and slam it into the wall. Mikey can hear the collision, a solid crack.

Raph barely gets the chance to cry out, hitting the floor before Mikey can process the return of the fury.

His body stays limp as his sane brothers’ cries mingle as one. "Raph!"

Raph doesn't move. Donnie sprints away as they run for him. They drop by his side.

"RAPH! RAPH!" Mikey shakes him. "Wake up! WAKE UP!"

Raph doesn't react. He doesn't slap Mikey away or tell him to shut up. He doesn’t glare or grumble. He lays completely limp, slumped in Mikey's grasp, and the youngest can't stop shaking him. "You're okay! You're okay! Please! RAPH!"

"What did you do?"

Mikey looks up, heart pounding in his chest. He expects Leo to find some way to twist the blame on him. He was the one who ran towards Donnie. Raph said to wait. He told him to wait. Why didn't he wait-?

Leo isn't looking at him. He's looking at Donnie.

And he's mad.

“What. Did. You. Do?” 

Not the normal mad. Not the annoyed mad or the self-righteous mad. Not any of the mads that have reigned supreme over the years.

Mikey's never seen this mad before. Yet, instinctively, Mikey knows he should fear it.

“He trusted you!”

It's radiating off of him, somehow sizzling in the air despite being aimed for one single entity. “They trusted you and YOU-” 

Donnie snarls, low to the ground, and then Leo's moving. "I warned you! I WARNED YOU!"

Leo swings his blade, and it scraps the cracked carapace as Donnie runs. He fails a lunge, hissing, ugly, vile notions as Leo aims to stick his blade through his shell. 

Mikey should stop this. Right? He should stop this. 

But he's holding Raph. And he's still not moving. And Donnie did this.

He pulls his older brother against his chest, and blood drips onto his leg. Mikey can hear the blood rushing through his head as he quickly undoes his wrist wraps, giving them all to the awful wound. His eyes are burning as he works, whispering, “You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.” 

Somewhere echoey and far away, Donnie yelps when Leo's blade cuts against his arm.

"What was your game?" Mikey looks up at the tone, goosebumps along his arm. Their brother's blood crawls down his katana. "Huh? Do you even know? Or are you a good little pet, following orders?"

Was he? Mikey wonders, replaying every argument between his older brothers. They took him home. All this time…

Donnie sprints when Leo lunges for him, dashing around his expert blade like the wound didn't exist. Mikey watches Leo take off after him, not comprehending anything but the warm body against him.

Someone enters his peripheral. His nunchuck comes out, blade extended

April lays a hand on Raph's head, gentle. Mikey blinks away the tears, lowering his hand. 

"He's unconscious, I think. Not in any danger yet." She murmurs as she brushes his forehead. Mikey sniffles, "How do you know?"

"I... Feel things." She says slowly. April looks tired. Her frail wrist is bruised. He needs to get her out of here. "He's not okay. But he'll survive."

"Oh." Mikey squeezes him lightly. "Thanks."

She looks over to the battle. "He feels wrong. The... Turtle who did this. Is he normally violent?"

"No." Mikey admits, not quite listening. "Or, yes? I thought he wasn't. I thought..."

"The Kraang have these machines." She interrupts. "They used it on my dad. To control his mind."

Watery blue eyes widen. All senses click into gear. She looks back at the battle. Leo has landed a kick, slamming Donnie into the closed door. "They put it on the back of his neck."

Mikey never been a thinker, and he doesn't waste a second to think about this.

He latches onto the possibility and gently lays Raph on the floor, readying his chucks with stilling hands. The uncertain fear is gone, replaced with the horror of seeing Donnie's sliced arms and the way Leo's foot has clamped down on one of the wounds. He holds this katana to his neck, voice getting louder as Mikey charges for them. "-ot nearly as naive. If Raph hates me, so be it. But I will not let you hurt my family. Not again."

Mikey's chains lock around Leo's body, dragging his arms to his chest, off his feet, and to the ground. Donnie bolts at the brief freedom.

Leo looks at him, furious as he brings his chain back. "MICHELAGELO!"

Mikey focuses on the turtle that's debating attacking the fallen leader. "Hey, Donnie!"

Donnie snaps to attention, hissing as air brushes the open wounds. He readies his stance. "Come here, big guy!"

"Mikey, don't-"

Donnie agreeably responds to his call. Mikey catches him as he leaps, flipping him and slamming him into the floor. Donnie snarls and Mikey reaches under the lip of his shell, fingers bumping something notably metal. He yanks on it and Donnie howls, blindly lashing out.

Mikey is thrown away, metal firmly between his fingers, and a blur of turtle knocks him away. "Leo, don't!"

Donnie lands on his side, dizzy eyes trying to refocus, spotting Leo as he stalks up.

Mikey sees it. The pain in his gaze, the confusion that shakes his limps, and the relief that overcomes it all.

Then Leo raises his sword and swings down. And Mikey watches it die.

The nunchuck chain wraps around his wrist, forcing Leo's grip to faulter, blade falling from his hands with a clang. Leo spins to face him and he holds up the mind control device. "It wasn't him! It wasn't his fault!"

Leo stares at him, seething and baffled in a safe kind of anger, and then looks down at Donnie.

Donnie has scrambled back, looking down to his limbs and then back at Leo. He's beyond terrified, low to the ground like he was on the day that they brought him home.

Mikey steps forward and his gaze locks on him. It finds its way along the room, to the blood on his nunchucks and then to the motionless body by April. He whines, high and loud and so, so scared, and Leo whispers, "What?"

The horror doesn't go away. It doubles. He crawls away, shaking as Mikey calls, "Donnie-”

The door explodes. The Kraang step out from behind it.

In a burst of motion, Donnie takes off down the hall and then knocks through the one in front. It flails as he turns the corner, dashing deeper into the base. Mikey's heart jumps to his throat. "Donnie!"

None of they Kraang stop him. Maybe they don’t feel like they need to.

Instead, they turn on them and opened fire.

Leo expects to die.

-earthquake shakes the world-

He probably deserves it.

-drowns out the tiny yelp-

He definitely deserves too.

-reaches out but he falls the wrong way- 

He forced his brothers to follow his lead. He led them into the den of the enemy. His choices led to that head wound and the tears drying on freckled face. He sliced those gashes into flesh and splashed this blood on his sword. He didn’t even hesitate.

What kind of leader would do that?

Leo might have deserved to die, but they didn’t.

It’s why his knees almost give way when April flicks her hand and- screams? 

It sounds downright awful, too high and grating on the ears. The Kraang all scream with her, but while hers is strong, theirs sounds- agonized. They fall over like she’d personally punched every single one at once, crumbling into a heap on the floor. 

She lowers her hand, panting and swaying unsteadily.

Leo moves with the impulsive that failed him minutes ago, catching her when she falls.

She weakly punches a fist at the air as he cradles her, rasping, “How’s that for a weapon.”

Leo doesn’t respond. He doesn’t think he can.

And that notion is challenged with Mikey’s weak, “Leo?”

His little brother has found his way to Raph’s side. Maybe ran there while Leo was frozen, not doing what a brother is supposed to do. Protect. 

He’s looking at Leo for guidance. Because Leo is the leader and he isn’t leading.

He’s failing his own mission. He’s putting his team in danger. A civilian. His brothers- 

He looks in the direction of the unconscious Kraang, somewhere far past them and after the turtle that had left his sight.

-small body hits the ground, water- 

He tries to swallow his doubts. They clog his throat anyway.

Leo looks to the girl in his arms. He breaths, “Can you walk?”

“Yeah.” She takes a deep breath. “I think so. Maybe not run, but, walk?” Another heavy inhale. “Sure.”

Leo gently leads her back to her feet. He looks to his brother. “You have to get them out.”

“Me?!” Mikey gasps. “How am I supposed to-!”

“Every hover room has an emergency portal in it.” April says breathlessly. “They go to the ships.”

“Fine.” Leo nods. “But nothing directly to the lair. They can’t know it’s location. Hear that Mikey? Keep distance.” 

Mikey’s gaze darts between them, then locks on Leo as he strides past. “What about you?”

“I’m going after him.”

Leo doesn’t need to fill in blanks. Mikey shakes his head. “It was mind control! He wasn’t- didn’t- he didn’t mean too!”

“I know.” He picks up his sword. “If we leave now, he’s as good as gone.”

“Maybe- I mean, the Kraang-” 

“Aren’t the only ones who are going to keep him far from us.” Leo refuses to glimpse the hilt. “And Raph’ll hate us for it.”

“Maybe I should-”

Leo’s heart skips a beat. “No! No, get Raph home.”

“But-” 

“He’s in no condition to fight! Get him home.” Where it’s safe.

“Leo.” Mikey won’t look at him. “What if I can’t?”

“You can.” Leo heads for the door. “I’m counting on you.” 

“Leo-”

“For once in your life!” He spins. “Would you listen to-!”

He pauses when he releases that Mikey has hoisted Raph up. April is looking at the back of his head, brows furrowed in concern.

He loses the words and the fury at the sight. He's always losing everything. The one thing he's good at.

Mikey’s scans his face and whispers, “Bring him home.”

Leo blinks rapidly and then peers down the corridor. “Trust me.”

-tall figure, glowing eyes - 

Mikey’s voice shakes, just a bit. “I do.” 

Leo can’t blame him for it.

-falling screaming splashing-

Steeling his shoulders, Leo walks over the metal droids.

-where did you go-

Once he’s touching the cold floor again, he runs.

369 slides down the hall. 

Blood dots the floor as he does, ears ringing and limbs burning with the passing air.

He stops himself at the corner, only because his vision swims and he can't see straight. His limbs give out beneath him, everything mashing dizzily before his eyes. The colors give out and then return with his sharp breath, air choked down in a desperate fight for consciousness. He breathes with wheezy breaths, finding no relief against the metallic ground, chill seeping in the cuts that exposes his weakness. The sharp scent of it reaches his nose. He rises in a weak fight to not smell it anymore.

He sways on unsteady limbs, finding no sense of safety along the pink hallway.

His masters must be dealing with the intruders. He hopes they can detain them before they find him again.

His brain continues to beat in tune with his heart as he takes a step, trying to remind his body that he'd suffered under worse conditions before.

"Wait!"

369 does not. He sprints without looking back; a command ignored in favor of freedom.

He can hear Leo coming up behind him. He knows what his master's would have him do, but- but he can't. He can't.

He doesn't want to fight. And they aren't here. He can be bad one more time.

Then he'll prove he's good. Then he'll be obedient.

Leo is calling out, too fast, too muffled, too garbled. 369 focuses on staying awake. 

369 dives through the door to his destination, determined to make this work in his favor.

The masters behind the door raise their weapons in shock. He tries to stop, but it glows pink as they prepare to fire.

Leo's weapon cuts through the distance, slicing through the skull of the one in front. 

Horrified that Leo would use such a method against him and his master was forced to take the blunt of the blow, 369 moves further into the room.

The air thrums around him, filled with objects that hurt and stab and burn fire up his limbs. His heart thuds in his ears as he reaches the back shelf to grab the world-changing-escape. He sets it on the ground and watches it thrum to life, the pink glowing welcoming as Leo cries out.

369 looks despite himself, as Leo removes his blade from a master's chest, moving for him.

The turtle jumps through the pink and ends up in the Walkway, where more world-changing-escape beckons for him at every side. He'd always wanted to explore those places- the Sectors that had his masters' attention, but his masters' never allowed it on the few trips through. He doesn't look now, taking off down the Walkway, panting as he scans the area. He doesn't need to know what lies in each Sector to recognize the place where he was fed and trained.

He wants to go back. Where things were normal. Before Friend was hurt and Leo wanted him to hurt too.

369 spots a familiar area and dives into it.

The world-changing-escape opens and spits him out. He lands dizzily on the ground in another room full of thrumming and buzzing and harm. He tries to get up but the spinning room has become violent. He lays on the ground, forcing himself to move before-

The portal spits Leo out. Donnie can't afford to stay still. He lurches forward, the acid rolling in his chest expelling at the rapid movement. He drags himself behind a large creation of his masters'. It curves into the corner, pressing uncomfortably into his side. It doesn't immediately bite so he trusts it to protect, slumping onto the floor, curling as small as he can. It's not good enough. He can still be reached. He can still be hurt. He trembles with slack limbs, a keen crawling from his throat when Leo comes closer.

The turtle tries pulling in his limbs. His arm burns when confined in the small space. Another whine, tears streaming as he gives in.

Was this the punishment? He said he'd take it. He said he'd let him. He didn't know. He was scared. 

Everything hurts. He doesn't want to be scared anymore.

369 stares at his own reflection in the metal of his blade, ready for the suffering to end.

It leaves his hand. It clatters to the ground.

He continues forward and stops a few inches from the machine.

Leo goes down to his knees and... 369 doesn't understand.

(Sorry) He promises weakly. (Sorry)

Leo doesn't respond. He doesn't move. 

369 wonders if his barrier was better than he thought. 

Neither of them move. What is he waiting for?

Is- it Donnie? Is Donnie suppose- suppose- is he disobeying?

He tries to make it easier. To rid him of the frustration that crumples his face.

He falls before he fully rises. Again, again, only agony.

He can't get back up. He failed.

The failure makes his head spin worse.

He can't think. He only hurts.

(Hurts) He admits. (Sorry)

Leo makes a pained sound, deep and guttural, eyes glassy before he covers them with his hands.

The turtle blinks sluggishly, wondering at the anguish that fills the silence. Did he do that? 

(Sorry) He tries again. The pain doesn't stop. He swallows thickly, knowing his preference.

He can do this right.

"Le-Leeo?"

Leo crumbles inwards, hands curling into fists against his face. 369 doesn't know what he's doing wrong.

He lays his head on the ground. He watches as the pain consumes him.

Then it abets, allowing him to suck in air like it's for the first time. He wipes furiously at his eyes, shaking his head, reigning in the suffering that still reflects in his eyes.

"I'm sorry." Leo says, beyond broken and barely piecing himself together. "I'm sorry. I'm so- I'm-"

369 doesn't answer. He doesn't want to make things worse.

"I'm sorry." Leo repeats again, as if by saying it enough times, the turtle might learn the word. He's not pointing. How is 369 meant to recognize? 

"This is my fault." His arms fall slack at his sides. "It's my fault."

369 doesn't say anything. Not when he looks at him. Not when his face hides again.

Not when one of his masters' comes up behind Leo. 

Not when he falls. Not when his masters come to drag 369 out. 

They lift both limp bodies from the floor. Their cold metal clamps over his wounds. He's overcome by fire.

The ground falls out from beneath him.