Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Casey! When I get to the other side you close that portal!"

Everything stills. The world falls static.

"What..?" A foreign voice enters the fray. Ah. Cj thinks distantly. It's mine.

A series of thoughts shoots through his mind.Faster than the battle drones Uncle Tello used to make, faster than the joy rides Uncle Mi used to give.He sees empty eyes, forced smiles. Screaming voices stained with the weight only grief, hunger, thirst and stress can give.

He thinks of Michelangelo in the brief moments he has met the turtle, so bright and so energetic.And then he remembers his Uncle Mi twisted into something quiet, slow and outwardly peaceful.

He remembers Monty, so stoic and so very angry.Yet so very indulgent when it counts. Out in a blaze of guns and glory. Standard-issue shoulder pauldron shoved into shaking hands. “You will do great things Princey.” He remembers Monty's mother. Whose name he never got, forever in a daze, staring at walls of nothing. A hallowed husk like so many of the living ghosts that wandered their dusty halls.

He remembers Miwa. So tiny, so fragile. So young. Too young. No amount of their anything can ever replace or beat modern medicine.

His Uncle Tello, bitter, grumpy; burnt out and constantly overstimulated from the dirt covered and squishy pink hell they've found themselves in. But sometimes on better days he cocks his head to the side, with a face that almost smiles at Cj and says, "Come Jones Junior; I appear to have some scraps we need to dispose off." Which is code for we're going to give your Pa an aneurysm and make things go boom.

He remembers his family. Tired, thirsty, hungry, eyes on them constantly. Countless sleepless nights in hushed voices arguing, strategising, weeping. They thought he didn't hear. But children always have the biggest ears and the longest standing shelter on earth is only so large.

First and foremost. Cj knows. He knows with heart wrenching certainty. If there was any way to make peace with the present Hamatos it would all be over now. They'll hate him. They will. They will never forgive him for this.

Maybe if this was his Mom, his Auntie April, his Da-Uncle Mi, his Uncle Tello, his Grandpa Drax. Whatever else Master Raphael and Master splinter might have been to him. They might just forgive him but these people are not them. They have not been softened with a lifetime of knowing Cj. He doesn't have that baby of the family privilege. He doesn't have any privilege at all. It's only been a day. Less than that technically.

Even just the thought of being hated by his family. Any version of them, curdles something in his core. Every fiber in his being lashes out and screams at the younger version of his sensei. (Oh but it was Leonardo wasn't it? Oh, what has he done?) In ways he hasn't done since he was 8 years old, because poor 8 year old Casey hadn't quite figured out how to breathe through the hunger pains. I'm a healer. I'm supposed to stop these things. Please, I already let go before you can't make me do this again-

"Leo no! There has to be another way!"

But this Leonardo says;

"We've tried everything Case, he's too strong" And deep down Cj knows that too.

Much like the lies his family told him. "We can win" He knows otherwise too. Just like if he does this, he knows he'll be left with nothing too.

But his family will still be here, surrounded by food, clean water, light, and endless amount of comics or magazines they could possibly want.

They will be free.

They will never know gnawing hunger or sapping thirst, nor will they know the ever present hum of runhidenotsafe. They will never know the unique kind of suffering that comes from having to grasp for strength to just open your eyes and breathe in a world that has already long given up on itself.

Cj has seen the future. He has lived and breathed and sometimes, even thrived in an era where the krang came. Where the sky was a bloody brown instead of this clear dark blue and people were driven to insanity and killed from the common cold. Where the sour smell of rot piled everywhere. No matter how much or how hard you scrubbed.

He remembers his Sensei, his Pa, wise, comforting, always ready with a witty comeback or a brilliant plan. He remembers his Commander O'Neil, his Auntie April, rousing, quick and endlessly enduring, the steady voice of reason where even Sensei's wit dulled. But they were tired, so very tired. The burden of leadership and grief and all the aches and pains of hunger and thirst that can never be quenched, already a fully dressed tomb just waiting for them to hang up their coats and admit futility to the unsurmountable cold.

He remembers how much his family loved him.How hard they tried to scrape together any piece of warmth for him. Tired Golden-Orange heaves himself into the air, to scoop Cj into his arms. Busy Blue who takes any meagre time he has to himself and spends it with Cj. Prickly Purple finds away to colour all his armour a shade of teal, even while his siblings are still decked in occasional shades of grey. Overstretched Green always ready to pull her brothers back and scold; too guilty, too smothering, too harsh.Stop.You're hurting the kid.

If Cj doesn't close this portal, if he keeps this open, if he disobeys-the Krang will just come back through. And they will plunge the earth into a bloody, poisoned hell.

And he knows that if not Leonardo, then someone else in their stupid, selfless, self-sacrificial family will take up the mantle of resistance, unable to stand idly by at people's suffering. Because these people are good, so very good. The Hamatos will fight, they will try. And they will lose.

The force of their ire will break him. The thought alone makes him sob, hiccuping in a way he hasn't done, not since he was found shrieking over a cold Uncle Tello and had to be wrenched away, kicking and screaming. But still holding on.Even to the very last second and beyond.Because he is Cassandra Jones Junjor and a Hamato in every way that matters and he could never leave family behind. At least back then he couldn't feel mom die

But the apocalypse.. that long, slow, painful march to inevitable death, will break him too. It wasn't always bad, they had fun, karaoke nights, hilarious attempts to make birthday cakes for kids like him. But fuck.. that doesn't change the fact that they still lost. That they will all still loose. Cj doesn't know if he can willingly doom them all again because that's what he's going to do isn't it? They were all so tired, so hungry, so thirsty.

How can he let them go through that again?

He remembers how much happier, and how much lighter they always looked in those old scarce photos.

Selfishly, Cj doesn't know if he can survive through another 20 something years or however long they make it this time, through that hell again. Forced to slowly watch again, as the Krang chip away at his family. Chip away at the people he called his friends till everything, bright, lively and kind was carved out;Uncle Hiro I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry-

They will never love you again. A voice thunders, like the death roll of their final march just this morning where Cj was still breathing in corrupted air under rusty skies. If only he died there with them. Anything is better than having to do this.

I know. Cj shakes, trembling fingers wrap around the key. Casey can see the division between young and new, old and worn and knows he cannot let it blur and become one.

"Casey! Urgh-please!"

Anything. I will give anything, Casey weeps.Anything as long as they live. Casey squeezes his eyes shut.

And just like with Uncle Tello,

Casey finally lets go.

The portal to the prison dimension slams shut with a glorious boom.

Leo, I love you. I'm sorry.

I wish I got more time to know you

                              .
                              .
                              . 

They scream at him. It's Muffled, like the sensation of sound in the aftermath of a live grenade. They hurl all manner of abuse and venom at his face. He thinks he might be crying.

Or maybe he's not. His head feels tangled like the heaps of crusty old wires, Uncle Tello will never get the chance to unravel.

The shattered body of their Leonardo lies between them, like territory lines drawn between begrudging survivor groups. Cradled by a shaking soft shell. The blurry shapes of familiar voices once desperately calm and patient now roar, cutting and rightfully angry. It falls on his ears. He tries to grasp it, he does. He's ruined everything, the least Cj can do now is listen.

But exhaustion gnaws at his very bones. Head pounding.

Nothing can explain this.

Nothing will justify this.

Severe head trauma, and shattered, collapsed carapace. Possible bruised and punctured lungs via pieces of loose carapace as the overall structure caved in, resulting in internal bleeding in the lungs and eventual asphyxiation. Conclusion?Patient chocked on his own blood. The field medic in him drones internally, years of experience and training unable to be shut off (or rather, trained to never shut off) as listless eyes drift down to meet the unmoving slider.

It seems the one-sided eye contact is what finally breaks the softshell's stupor. "Don't you fucking dare." The teen snarls, teeth flashing in all the ways he used to bare it at unwelcome visitors.But never at Casey. Never for long.

Wake up Jones. This is not your Uncle.

The rest of the group falls silent, shocked to see their previously silent family member speaking.

"You don't get to look at him." Achingly gentle, the purple branded softshell sets Leonardo onto the tiled floor.

Donatello stands. "You."He hisses, pointing at Cj."You did this."

Somewhere, somehow Cj manages to gather enough of himself to incline his head slightly in agreement. It's the least he can do for them.

"Leave." Donatello orders.

And like the good soldier he is, Cj does.

Disappearing into the tunnels.

No one stops him.

Chapter Text

The air is much chillier today. Once upon a time, that would be the herald of their highly anticipated snow day. Emojis will flood the family groupchat, plans will be made, schedules will be cleared, homework conspicuously forgotten. But that was then. This is now.

Leo's memorial hangs above them like a haunting guillotine. It would be better if he actually was haunting this place. Anything is better than this.

"Hi" Mikey smiles weakly, trying to play off his squeak of suprise into faux causalness. "I saved you lunch."

Raph nods. "Thanks" he pokes at the reheated chicken curry and rice in silence. It's good. It always is. But it feels like ash most days.

"So how was patrol? You're not usually back this early." Mikey bless his soul. He's trying so hard.It hurts as much as it warms the snapper's heart.

His littlest brother, trying so hard to scrap together just a little more light for all of them, like he wasn't crying himself to sleep every night, the 'if l was just a little faster' eating him up alive.

(Dead in the middle of the night, the snapping alligator turtle returns back from patrol and freezes just outside a colourful subway car. Soft shaking sobs, creep out from just beyond the unlit car.

Raph wants nothing more than to walk in, scoop his little brother into his arms and never let anything hurt him ever again. But the memory of pink tendrils and 'if this is the end I want to let you know that I'm sorry' hold him in place. Raph is not sate.

So shamefully, cowardly, like every night before this, the eldest brother turns and walks away.)

Michelangelo deserves better than this.

But Raphael is not safe.

"It was fine just... loud. You know how humans are"The snapper shrugs half-heartedly, sitting across the table from the box turtle. It was more than that. Cheerful music, parading crowd. Raph gets it, he does. By all accounts it's a good thing.A victory over the failed invasion. Humanity won, Yokai-kind won too. And knowing of it or not, the whole of earth won as well.

They have no idea what bled for them that day.What still bleeds for them to this day. Raph tries to stomach it till he couldn't no more. Grief festering in his chest till he punched a hole through an old construction site. That, was when he knew he had to head home to their dojo before he did something he regrets. Which actually... is something he should get back too. He still too angry.. he's not. Raph's not safe.

"Hah.. New York what a town right?" Mikey nudges him shyly, blind to the danger present.

Raph flinches, jerking away. Raph's not safe."Mikey! Careful-!" The red snapper snaps immediately deflating in muted horror at the younger turtle's grimace. What is he doing? He's scaring him! "I-geez, sorry. sorry." The floor is suddenly much more interesting to look at now.

"Raph was just thinking of going to the dojo" The snapper sags.

"Oh okay.. I see" Mikey's smile wobbles, at the corner of his eye, Raph can see it. "That's.. that's ok, big bro. have fun." His voice is pitched just a tiny bit too high. Raph doesn't need to look at Mikey directly, years of growing up togather tell him the box turtle is barely choking back tears.

It's another stab at his already leaking heart, his baby brother always so loud with his emotions has no right being this subdued. You already leave him to cry alone. Mind Raph reminds him, firm but not cruel. Raph would really prefer it if he was. He wants you to stay. You can at least do this much.

"Actually, the dojo can wait. You got lots on your plate right?" Raph quickly pivots, motioning to the half filled sink."Raph will help you clean up" The older teen picks up his plate and starts towards the sink, still keeping a wide berth between them.

The result is instantaneous. The sun breaks through the stormy clouds. Mikey looks like he can damn near combust from how widely he is grinning, trying and failing to hide the not so subtle flutter of his hands in a happy stim.

It makes the snapper's heart want to burst. Once, a long time ago this would be the time Raph would sweep his baby brother, sunshine personified, into a big crushing hug, a playful noogie included. But that was then. This is now.

Instead slowly, carefully, Raph reaches out and briefly pats Mikey's head. Proud of himself for barely shaking this time. It's such a small thing, it used to be so easy. Still Mikey gratefully drinks it all in, like a cactus to water in a desert.

"So you draw anything new?" Raph tries to ask. Immediately grimacing at the awkwardness of it all. Talking used to be so easy. What happened to them?

Luckily Mikey seems to take it in stride. Happy to talk and talk and talk about the new charcoal medium he was trying, the weird Lou jitsu memorabilia he found while cleaning (Since when did Mikey clean?? Willingly??) under the couch and the one or two grocery's hauls done by April.

No mention of Mikey begging April let him go topside with her. No mention of any junkyard trips with Donnie(not that Raph was surprised). No trips outside. No detours. Nothing.

Since when did that happen too? Distinctly Raph can remember many a time spent furiously wrangling a tiny little brother over the phone for him to come home. Because it's getting late, the sun is coming up, Big man that alley isn't going to run away, you can come back later please-

His little brother, for all his box turtle homing instincts, loved to explore, weather it be to discover small family shops in the hidden city or find a new spot for graffiti topside. Discovering new things was his thing, it's what made Michelangelo, Michelangelo.

Then again how much did the snapper really know of his brothers nowadays huh? He pushes that thought aside before he can dwell on it any further not wanting to sour this rare lightness.

"And then I spent the rest of the day trying get rid of those annoying cobwebs!" Mikey shakes his head. "Dad was right we really need to clean our rafters more!" The box turtles huffs as he places a now clean plate into their cabinet.

But the last time Raph remembered dad complaining, or the tell-tale swoosh of a lab door being opened was 14 months ago.

Pizza supreme, Raph blinks, swaying a little. That was why the box turtle drank in any and all touch Raph gave. This poor kid, oh god his poor baby brother, one of their most sociable and people loving family members, technically with Leo gone Mikey was the only one now.

All alone for months on end with the only indication that he wasn't the only living soul in the lair, was the occasional bags of food that appeared by the lair's entrance and the empty plates by Donnie's lab and Pop's room. Mikey must be so, so touch starved. How long has the box turtle been doing this? How did they let this get so bad? How did they not notice? What happened to us? The eldest brother mourns. If nothing else, he resolves to at least try to give his poor, touch starved brother one head pat ever other day. He's already failed Leo and Donnie. He can't fail Mikey too.

Unbidden, Raph can't help but remember a time just last week, where he had punched their punching bag clean off its chain. Only to return an hour later with a new one already in its place. At that time he assumed it was Donnie (with all his all seeing cameras and regular but eerily silent maintenance to all their appliances. No more loudly complaining over who broke their toaster) who replaced it but now-

Тар.Тар.Тар.

"Raphie..? Raphala?" Mikey smiles sweetly but hesitantly. Thankfully, the box turtle seemed to learn his lesson earlier. Instead of touching the older turtle like before, Mikey taps the countertop to get Raph's attention. "Is everything ok?"

"Oh yeh;Raph's good."Raph shakes his head."Was just thinking"

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Big doe eyes somehow get wider. Once upon a time that would have been enough to make Raph cave.

"Your uhm-hands are doing good." Raph cringes, painfully adverting his gaze. Mikey scowls, with narrowed eyes that says 'Boi you are not slick'.

But the days of loud Dr Delicate touch, fearlessly climbing or latching on top of his brothers and pushing,and pushing, until they fess up are far behind them.

So instead, Mikey sighs and with a worn smile, he says. "You know you can always talk to me right Raph?"

"I.. I know." Raph nods, beak quirking into crumpled facsimile of a smile, cuz gosh does he know. All those Dr feelings seminars. Raph shudders to himself. But this, something about their 'this' will always feel too much like a raw nerve or a live wire his other little brother was way too fond of playing with. Shit, he missed Donnie so much. How was it possible to miss someone who was still alive this much? Some days it really did feel like he lost two little brothers instead of one. One was already one too many.

With a shake of his head Raph forces himself back into his body. No need to space out twice now. He already promised himself he'll try for Mikey. If Donnie, April and Dad weren't goinc be here. Raph would at least try, so that's exactly what he was going to do.

"Same goes for you too, big man" The snapper gestures to the box turtle with his chin. And he means it he does.

Mikey hums, nodding. Resuming his task.

The sound dissolves into the quiet clinking of plates and sloshing water. Not quite uncomfortable but not quite comfortable either.

"Is your eye doing ok?" Mikey asks, trying to steer them to more comfortable waters.

"It's fine." Raph answers, happy to take the out."More than fine. Doesn't ache at all actually. Just numb and a little tingly."

"Oh mi gosh! You too?"

Surprised, Raph snaps his head towards an equally wide eyed Mikey. It breaks his heart. His little brother used to be so much louder than this.Raph tries to smile encouragingly, prompting the orange turtle to continue.

"My hands still shake sometimes. But every time I think they're going to start hurting they just don't" The box turtle pouts. "Even Barry was surprised. He says it's supposed to hurt. I just feel tingly and numb too". His face scrunches briefly, disgruntled. "-makes it hard to know when I overdo it though." To demonstrate, Mikey wiggles all 6 fingers in a loose jazz hands gesture. Smiling slightly.

A surprised laughs tears out from the older brothers beak; equal parts exasperated and fond.

He doesn't know what why, it wasn't really that funny. But something about the silly gesture must have reached him somewhere. Because here he is, airy and softer but still,laughing.

Delighted, Mikey giggles back. Eyes wet. How long has it been since he last heard his brother laugh?

If only Leo was here.

If only this could last forever.

But Something suffocates the precious warmth instantly

Mikey's hold on the plate shatters. It drops to the ground breaking into a million pieces.

Speak of the ghosts and the ghosts will come.

(Deep Down, beneath them, inside of them, around them, where the space of

RedPurpleOrangeGreen White swirl around each other so close yet so far. No longer able to bear the thought of intersection but unable bear the thought of tearing away from each other.

Nonono-

Something withers. something dies.

Like the chime of Blue saying Hero moves are totally your style'

Before it winks out from existence, leaving a gaping hole behind. It doesn't even bleed. It would have been better if it at least bled. Now its just empty-

No please we can't go through this again-)

Frantically, head partially in his chest, the box turtle staggers, looking around fearfully, spots glowing orange in alarm.

"Where-?" Mikey starts.

For the first time in months, pure big brother instinct completely overrides his anxiety, Raph grabs for Mikey. Tucking him protectively under his shoulder protectively and races towards Donnie's lab. He'll be there. The softshell never left these days.

For the first time since they laid their Blue to rest.The sliding door to Pop's room bursts open.

”Boys! How-!?" Splinter yells rushing toward them.

"We're all fine! I don't know! " Mikey cries back, slightly giddy over the most physical contact he's gotten in months, despite the current situation.Meanwhile Raph damn near breaks down the softshell's door. His eye twitches. "Donnie!Donnie!!Open the door!"

For the first time in months, an achingly familiar voice answers back. "I'm okay! I know!I know!Sweet Galileo I'm trying to fix it!"

The door opens with a swoosh, releasing a gust stale air into their faces. A frazzled Donnie steps out. Eyebags galore and stench of old coffee stronger than Raph's notorious fear stink. Raph bites down the urge to lecture the teen's bed wrangled state.

The purple teen in question, is typing furiously on his computer wrist, while his phone is tucked between his shoulder and his face. April's voice can heard from its speaker. Yelling confusion.

(Wrong wrong wrong. The shared space of their already off kilter family mystic sways dangerously. It's quiet, too quiet. Large steady Red drapes over his remaining universe tightly, shielding orangepurplegreenwhite in a protective shield.

The colours mix. They reach for each other for the first time in months both inside and outside in shared confusion and terror.

Where?

What's going on?

We're all here.

So.. why?

But then just as quickly as it came. The ringing silence is gone. Their constellation is settles back into its uncertain balance, all is well.

Huh?

Wait. Resilient Green hushes them, listen.

Tentatively, they reach out to where they hadn't thought to do before.

Ba-dump Ba-dump Ba-dump

It's a heartbeat. One of them realises in dawning horror.

But who?

Who else can possibly be here with them that can throw them further off balance now?

An image of similarly decorated kneepads flashes in Orange's mind. He pushes that image to the rest.

Guys. Casey.

On que, the teal heartbeat flatlines.

Oh no.

Before it staggers to its feet. Irregular and slow.

Alien relief washes over them. It wrestles with well-worn distrust and bitterness.)

"We need to find future boy." Pops states, voice raspy from a year of disuse and places a hand on Donnie's arm. The sudden contact nearly startles the softshell into dropping his phone. Not that Raph can blame him. He can scarcely believe dad is here either. "He owes us some answers"

In the end, they decide to split up to cover more ground. Unsurprisingly, the future protoge found a way to disable Future Donnie's comm line. Or at least found a way to undo whatever Donnie did to sync future boy's comm to their comm system.

So contacting him directly is not an option.

It takes two hours. One wild goose chase and trying so hard to listen a nigh invisible heartbeat.

When April(what would they ever do without her)points out,"Hey didn't future boy say they lived in caves?"

Before they focus their efforts solely to the underground. Mikey took the sewers, Raph in the underground maintenance tunnels and April and Splinter in the abandoned train stations while Donnie continued to search the city's database for any more underground structures they could check.

It's been 3 more hours since then and one more cliff-hanging flatline.

The snapper rubs at his unseeing eye, annoyed. If he knew it was going to start aching today he would have taken some pain meds.

A creaking noise grabs his attention.

Raph looks up, seeing a half loose ceiling panel swaying in the drafty tunnel. He can't fit. Maybe April or Mikey can. But they're halfway across the city's underground sector. Do it scared, do it scared. It seems today was just full of pushing past his fear huh?

So standing on his tiptoes, Raph sticks his head up the hole, his breath hitches. The smell alone makes his eyes water.

There, nestled between the tunnel's false ceiling and actual ceiling is his little brother's killer, the one locked the door on his Leo while there was a monster with his little brother on the other side, (nevermind the fact that Leo asked him too) surrounded by rotting rat carcasses and so much more impossibly thin and still, if it weren't for the flagging teal he'd think the boy was already dead.

Raph doesn't know if it's because of the revelation of distant family or the boy's pitiful state or because of his years spent as the eldest brother, the one who is the biggest, the one who takes care of them all. Oh he's too small, Raph can't help but think.

This is their family Ninpo. It runs on love and trust: Even at the height of their ancestor's obession with martyrdom, there had been love and trust buried in there somewhere. The family mystic wouldn't have survived to their current generation otherwise.

But Casey's is not buried in the ground. It is not the kind that martyrs their own at the first opportunity. Not even for good reason.

It wells a confused pity, soured by residual anger. future boy; all alone. Displaced in a timeline not his own and disowned by the only remnants of familiarity.

Gingerly, carefully and trying not to have a panic attack over the prospect of prolonged contact.Deep breaths. Just take deep breathes. You're the only one who can do this. Breathe. You picked up Mikey, and he was fine. you can do it again. It's just for a little while.

Trembling down to a manageable level, Raph then lifts the unconscious human up and down through the rafter hole. The movement causes stained, loosely tied bandages to slip, and the stench goes from bad to downright horrendous.

The overpowering smell of sewer and pus nearly makes him drop the kid into dirty sewer water and gag. Which is saying something cuz Raph grew up in the sewers. The snapper is no medic, but pizza supreme, he knows humans aren't supposed to be this warm nor is their flesh is supposed to leak yellow or swell such an angry red.

Holding the boy at arms length, Raph lifts his comms to his face. "I found future boy. Heading back to the lair now. He's hurt bad." If he sounds a little breathless no one points it out. He doesn't stay long enough the rest of the group's verbal assent. There are too many thoughts in his head.

Raph doesn't know what to feel as he walks back through the dark tunnels.

                             .

                             .

                             .

It's 3am when the search finally concludes, too long since the mutant turtles and rat last ate lunch and too late for April to make the journey back to her apartment.

She stays overnight for the first time since that day. The group stand around the living room in silence. The rush of trying to stabilise the med-bay-bound time traveler is finally over and with it, their crushing spector returns with a vengeance.

"Well, I guess I'll go get dinner started then!" Mikey smiles nervously, ducking out to escape to the kitchen. "I hope you guys don't mind lasagna!" He calls.

Sharing one last glance, the rest disperse. No words need to be said, they all know their roles.

Even months apart and drowning in unnatural silence, cannot wash away the years of laying this foundation.

April grabs the plates and utensils, Raph and Donnie start to round up the assortment of beanbags and chairs scattered across the lair and bring it to the table while Splinter hovers near the kitchen doorway, in case Mikey needed him. He was the only one, save April or occasionally Raph, who Mikey trusted in his kitchen. They were supposed to be banned together. Set of a pair.

"Ah"April chokes up, freezing mid-plate placement. Worried, Donnie walks over, leaving Raph to set the last beanbag."April what's wrong?"

In response, a strangled gasp (it sounds suspiciously like tears) escapes from his older sister, she shakes her head unable to continue. The soft shell frowns and begins counting the plates with his hand. One, Two, Three.. yes, there were six plates. Donnie doesn't see the issue, six plates for six people-himself, April, Dad, Raph, Mikey, Le- Oh. His hand drops. Suddenly the cold tiles beneath him go from unnoticeable to digging pins and needles into his heels. Hurts, hurts, everything hurts.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry" April shakes, She's crying, Donnie is frozen. His heart beats a rabbit quick.

Donnie doesn't know what to do. He can't do. His other half is gone, His big sister rarely ever cries, the faint sounds from the kitchen are too much.I ean't do this. It's all too much.

The softshell doesn't realise he's hyperventilating till a solid warmth rests on his shoulders.

"Donnie? Dee..? Hey. It's ok. Copy me and Mikey ok? Deep breath in, deep breath out"

A deep rumbling churr and a raspingly familiar lullaby, one that he hasn't heard since he was a tot, joins them in the undertone.

He forces his breaths to slow. Safe.You are safe.

Squeezing the tears from his eyes. His vision clears, and somehow the softshell finds himself sitting on the ground with a weighted blanket draped on him. April is kneeled in front to him, Mikey and Splinter beside her. While Mikey and her exaggerate their breaths for him to follow. His father's lullaby draws to a close. Come back

Behind him, his big brother shivers, still churring, a comforting presence no blanket can ever achieve.

Confused, Donnie arches a brow at his younger brother and father. Weren't they supposed to be in the kitchen?

Familiar with his nonverbal gestures, Mikey speaks softy, for the softshell's comfort. "You know how dad is. Pointy ears and all. He heard you hyperventilating, I saw him try to leave.. well you know." The box turtle shrugs. "Dinner's already in the oven, it'll be fine."

It's truly a testament to how off-kilter everyone is, when Dad refrains from using his tail to smack the youngest for the ears comment.

Donnie nods stiffly, still not quite able to push past the weight holding his tongue.

He feels naked, exposed. Yet...somehow his body feels more relaxed and unwound than it has ever been in months, as if finally awoken from a long dream. For the first time, Donnie turns and lets his eyes wander around their lair, truly look at it.

Not shamble through its halls during the witching hours half dead and with a single minded focus on: coffee, fix the occasional appliance, and returning to his lab.

The cobwebs by the rafters are gone. The playstation controllers are neatly stacked, the floor. The floor. A chill creeps back up his feet and into his hands. Gone is the stubborn layer of dust, dirt and crumbs that somehow always managed to coat the floor. It's clean. It not supposed to be clean. Not even with three teenage boys.

I have become a ghost in my own home. The softshell blinks, dazed.How much has he missed? The genius wonders with no small amount of dread.

Mikey cocks his head to the side, cautiously curious. "Do you want to talk about it? Signing works too."

The softshell's feels his shoulders rise, ice all over. gone.gone. Gone. Six plates. A broken set. How he could be possibly explain this? How could he possibly articulate that kind of agony.

Sensing the return of the younger boy's spiral, April shoulder checks him, disrupting the thought train. "It's my fault. I was setting the table but then I realised-" Her voice wavers, but no new tears spill out. "- I realised I grabbed six plates"

Grieving understanding darkens everyone else's face.

"Yeah." April laughs sardonically. "I'm being a terrible big sister right now aren't I?"

Donnie frowns, vermantly. As does everyone else in protest.

"April no.."

"That's not true-"

"Green."

"Guys stop." She holds her hands up, Let me finish.She adds unspoken. They let her. Because when April O'Neil wanted to say something you listened.

"You guys don't have to make me feel better ok? I know." She whispers, wrapping her arms around herself in some modicum of comfort. "You're my family." The 19 year old cries heartbroken, bowing her head in shame. "You're my family, you guys needed me and I avoided this place like the plague. Because it hurt too much to be here."

Unspoken their eyes drift to Leo's memorial before returning back to each other.

"You were hurting..." Raph offers up, no longer churring.

"We're all hurting! That doesn't make it an excuse!" April hisses, snapping up to meet the second eldest's gaze. Her eyes fierce even with a fresh set of tears. The snapper shrinks.

The human crumbles too, instant regret colours her face. "Oh, big guy I'm so sorry." Gently, slowly she reaches out a tentative hand to the largest turtle. He leans into it, only to draw back at the very last second.

She presses lips into a thin line to keep herself from crying harder. April nods, eyes flashing in pained understanding. She sighs, steeling herself and then continues.

"When that void hit our Ninpo.. again"They all shudder in mutual disgust. "Fuck.. I was terrified. it was like being stuck on the ground again where we had to watch Leo, except worse." She cups her hands to her face. "Because this time, I stayed away on purpose."

"What if it wasn't Casey? But one of you ?" She looks off into the distance, haunted. "What if the last memory you all had of me was off the worst day of our lives, instead of me telling you guys how much I love you. Because I do." She says, wrecked with grief. But also love. Always love.

"Splints you're my weird uncle, and you boys are my little brothers. I can't lose you guys."

Unable to contain himself anymore, Mikey loops his arms around her waist and burrows into her side. She reciprocates eagerly, wrapping an arm around her youngest brother and pulling him closer."You're not the only one who was pulling away." The box turtle says sadly.

To the side, the former actor turned father and current Hamato patriarch says nothing, he watches his beloved sons and niece?semi-ward? (bah, doesn't matter she's family) silently. Deep in thought.

"Michel's right." Donnie chimes in, finally able to get his tongue working. They all look to him with varying degrees of suprise. Which is fair, he's not exactly the picture of emotional vulnerability or mental health. None of them are. Donnie swallows down a lump. He does not want to do this. Newton's beard does he not want to do this.

But his home is being warped around him. There is sterility where there should be chaos. Mikey is withdrawn, Raph is touch adverse, April is crying and Papa has not once complained bout missing any off his TV shows. We're breaking. Donnie realises with hysterical dread. They're barreling to the point of no return, and if something doesn't give soon, they might be too far gone from themselves and each other, to ever fit back together.

He's already bleeding out from the space where his twin used to be. Losing them like this, in any form will truly be the final gun shot to his brain.

And they definitely won't survive losing his genius either.

"I don't.. I don't think I know what to do with myself without Leo around." He shifts uneasily, adverting his eyes from his family. "But I don't want to leave you guys alone." He grimaces, picking at his nails in nervous tick.

"And I know.. leaving per se, isn't what Leo would want. So as I'm sure as some of you know." Donnie casts what he hopes is an apologetic look to Raph and Mikey. The ones he was sure felt his absence most keenly, like it or not, his father and him had very similar coping mechanisms, ie:drowning themselves in whatever be it TV shows or inventing to distract themselves from reality. "..Itry to keep myself busy." The softshell finishes.

Raph pales at the implication. "Donnie." he whispers pained, but doesn't make a move to hold the soft shell. Instead his hands brush against the younger teen's shoulders tense and longing. Donnie tries not to take it personally.

He feels his dad's tail wraps around his waist and squeeze. "I am so sorry, my son."

Tearing up, Mikey slowly unwinds himself from April and holds out his arms in invitation. Donnie leans forward and the box turtle pulls Donnie into a hug, squeezing him with all the fierce, warm love only the sun like him can give. "Thank you for telling us. And thank you for staying." His little brother says fiercely.

"I can never leave you all without my genius" He hugs Mikey back. Because it is true. Leo is his other half. But his whole world has always been made up of RaphLeoMikeyAprilPapa and the numerous tiny planets that made up his love for science and mechanical engineering.

It's funny really. The genius locked himself in his lab, threw himself into home security, and chipped away at the backlogs of blueprints that had accumulated over the years, all in an effort to slow the bleeding. There could be no space for grief and the 'just a little left and you can join him' if he worked himself to exhaustion.

It kept him from thinking. It kept him in stasis. It kept him and his katana-sharp grief from spilling out and poisoning his beloved family. But he already did, didn't he? For all his genius he failed to account how his absence was a poison too.

Yet this small pocket of family comforting him, helping him through his recent meltdown has done more to warm the chill and bandage the wrongness of gone gone gone-Something intrinsic to Hamato Donatello is gone- than any machine or programme he worked himself to death making.

Truthfully, Donnie doesn't know if he can ever truly live with being half of a whole or a piece of his world gone, but for his remaining world, he's willing to try. Besides, wasn't Excascale computing becoming global soon? He definitely wants to try and stick around for that.

April rests her head on his shoulder,"Oh Dee.. we are so going to find you a therapist."

"Preferably one with at least 4 doctorates." He quips back, half joking-half serious.

Her eyes blaze determinedly with all the fire she was so famous for. "Consider it done." Big sister of the whole wide world.

"Raph can look in the hidden city too." Raph volunteers. "I'll help too." Donnie feels Mikey nod enthusiastically.

Despite everything, Donnie feels a small twitch upwards at his beak the first touch of a smile since that day. This.. this was still good.

"Actually.." after a brief pause, Mikey pipes up, nervously. "Since we're all sharing something today, is it ok if I say something too?"

”Go for it”

”Of course”

”Always”

“Ok..ok I’m gonna do it.” Nervous,the youngest drums his fingers along Donnie’s battleshell. The softshell tsks, extending two metal claws from his shell to grab the younger’s hands. “Sorry.” Mikey shrinks.

"It's fine. Just grip the claws instead." The purple branded teen instructs, not breaking the hug.

Mikey nods, and then proceeds to white knuckle the offered claws so tightly, the metal begins to creak. It makes the older brother want to shove the younger away and scream my baby! But it's been a literal year since he has last seen his little brother (jeezus how did he let it get this bad) so Donnie resists; just this once.

"So." Mikey takes a deep shuddering breath, "I don't want you guys to take this the wrong way. I love you guys. I love to cook for you guys, I promise." He looks to April,Splinter, Raph pleadingly.

"And I know you're all hurting so I don't mind handling the chores myself either." He smiles wobbly. Shock briefly paints Donnie and Splinter's face. Raph hunches inward and April's looks away, ashamed.

So that was who deep cleaned their floor and cleared out the webs. The mutant rat concludes heartbroken. He gently cups his son's face. Mikey leans into it.

The floor alone would have taken days. How lonely must his son have been? Splinter mourns.

"B-but it gets really hard sometimes and I'm sorry." Mikey hiccups, big fat tears rolling down his face. Forming a damp patch on the softshell's shoulder that he bravely tolerates. "A-and I know I shouldn't be complaining. It's my fault Leo-"

Oh no. Oh hell no. Not their youngest.

The explosion of protests is violent.

"Baby, no." April gasps horrified.

"Don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare." Donnie hisses, wrenching Mikey away by his shoulders and shaking him.

"But if I was just a little faster-" The box turtle shakes.

"Orange, you did everything you could"

"But you guys-" Mikey whimpers.

"No." Raph growls, clenching his fists. " just because we're hurting doesn't mean anything. We are relying a bit too much on you. You cook for all of us. You're the only one who keeps our home clean," Raph places a light hand atop his little brother head. He has to say this, he has to. For Mikey. And.. for himself. "And Leo." His voice shakes, they all flinch. "Leo made his own choices." Raph sags.

"So please, don't hurt my baby brother by blaming him for things out of his control."

"But.. what about you?" Mikey wobbles

"Huh?" Raph tilts his head to the side.

"Do you blame yourself?" Point blank when he wants to be.

There is silence. The snapper recoils back stung. Raph for as big as he is, feels smaller than ever."It's not the same. You were trying to help. But I." he hangs his head low. "I hurt you guys."

A chorus of protest break out again.

"It wasn't you!"

"Literally impossible. You? The guy who feeds stray cats?"

"It was the Krang!"

"I know that!" Raph snaps. "It's so stupid I know.The krang did it, not me." The snapper grips his head. "But I'm the strongest and the biggest. And everything I close my eyes I see." the red turtle shakes ,staring down at his hands. "I don't need mind control to hurt ya guys. If I mess up.." He squeezes his eyes shut, tears falling. " I.. I'm supposed to take care of you bozos."

"Oh big guy.. We're supposed to take care of each other." This time not to be deterred. April wraps her arms around his large arm. It burns, but he can't bear to shake her off, not after so long. "If nothing else, you and I promised remember? We would share." Her eyes glimmer again with new tears.

(A lifetime ago, tucked away in a little corner away from where little brothers are sleeping.

A 11 year old and 10 year old lie nestled against each other. "Thanks for helping to get my brothers to sleep. Raph's really sorry for this. They always get so fussy when they're sick." He grumbles, tucking his head between his knees.

The girl giggles. "Psh~ I already said it's fine. You don't have to do it all by yourself."

"But I'm the oldest." The boy protests.

"Uhh no. I'm the oldest. Im 11." She rolls her eyes. Beaming.” Sides’ I'm always happy to help if you want?"

"Really?" He gasps, eyes sparkling.

"Well duh," The girl grins, not yet realising just how far she will go or the magnitude she will carry for her soon-to-be family. But her mum always said she could do anything. So she will endure, gladly for them. "What are friends for?")

Seeing the lack of protest this time, Mikey and Donnie take that opportunity to pull away form each other and encircle their big brother on either side.

"We're with you always raphie." Mikey hugs.

"Yeah. Yeah What he said." Donnie, opting to rest his hand against his older brother.

"You guys.." Raph sniffs, bending down to be closer to his siblings.

"My sons, my family." Splinter stands and joining the rest of his family at last. They all turn to face him. "This past year has been hard on us all. With our blue..” The elderly man stutters, chest hurting. "-it will likely always be hard on us. Which is why more than ever we have to press in. I know have not been the best father, but as the head of the household and the adult, I should have known better than to leave you all to your hurts."

Splinter kneels, dogeza style. "I am truly and deeply sorry.Please I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me. No matter what happens, from now on I promise, I will do my very best to be here now."

"Dad."

"Pops."

"Oh Splints."

"I don't normally feel things but that one got through."

"Donnie really?" April chuckles weakly, rolling her eyes. The softshell doesn't quite feel up to smiling yet, so he shrugs instead. Leo wasn't here anymore. Someone has to do it.

"Cmon guys, Pop's is right." Raph huffs affectionately, he still doesn't feel quite so comfortable to hug them all back. But he's not pulling away and that means everything. "No more. We have to stick together."

"Anatawa Hitorijanai" Mikey beams, wiping away the tears.

"Anatawa Hitorijanai" the rest of them echo back.

Pressing closer to each other again.

"Wait." Donnie stiffens, pulling away. "Angelo how long has your lasagna been in the oven?"

"My lasagna!" With a shriek and a jump, Mikey tears himself away from the group and races towards the kitchen.

He doesn't get far, stoping just shy of the doorway when the Smoke detector goes off with vengeance. Followed by a BOOM! And the telltale glow of yellow-orange flames lick at the doorway.

"Orange! What did you put in that lasagna!"

"I don't know! It's never done this before!"

"The fire exstinghisher! Someone get the fire extinguisher!"

"FIRREEEFIIGGHTTTINGG LIKE A BOSSSS!"

"Wait! No no no! Raph! That's the turbo mo-"

Peals of laughter break through the halls amidst the smouldering fire and smoke and clouds of demineralised water particles.

For the first in a long, long time the lair feels less a living tomb and more a home.

They think Leo might be proud.

Chapter Text

The human blinks. Only on pure instinct do empty eyes scan the surrounding area. Blurry shapes, White walls, white everywhere, the air does not burn his throat. It’s clean. Something inside him pings. He does not understand why that tibit is important to him. A distant buzz tells him he should focus on his surroundings, absent mindedness meant death. A larger, grieving, grieving, always grieving part scowls and says: screw off. 

"You're awake." A large green-red figure says. Something in his chest aches. But feeling is a behind a metal door 3 layers reinforced and deep underground. The ravenette can only blink. Who is this large green figure? Why does he feel so important?

The large, green-red figure shifts awkwardly. "I uh.. Raph will just get Donnie now." The giant quickly ducks out, heavy curtain swishing behind him.  The name sends a jolt up through the teen’s spine before being smothered by heavy, cottoned numbness.  

A smaller, thinner green shape marches in. He grips a clipboard so hard it dents around his grip. He takes one long look at the bedridden time traveller, pauses, then raises his unprotected fist and punches it into the wall.

“BANG!”

Like most things, it is the sudden loud noise and the sight of split scales that give way that to the familiar metallic smell of blood that jumpstarts his Brain to DANGER DANGERRUNHIDENOTSAFE-

-and banishes the heavy numbness. The room no,the med bay sharpens into definition. White walls lined with cupboards of medicines, bandages, everything the medics, nurses and doctors of the resistance can only dream off. A thick heavy curtain blocks the only entrance. The smell of antiseptic stings his nose. His arms and back are covered in bandages and burn like they’re on fire. Blue.Leonardo. Key. Leave. Purple. Softshell. Donatello. This is Donatello.

With a strangled gasp, Casey lurches upwards and forwards towards the soft shell. Ignoring the hot white shrieking of pain that shoot up his arms at the sudden movement.“How-! Donatello! Why-?! Are you ok?!” The boy cries, scanning with the soft shell up and down with frantic practice for any other additional injuries. On autopilot, rote hands jerk out and grab the bruised and bleeding hand. Disjointed teal ripples skitter across their joined hands. Before it peters out like a cut wire. 

Oh oh.Cj’s breath quickens. Useless. Pathetic. Casey is not surprised. After everything, he's grateful he even has this much. Not even Pa had this much. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. 

With a hiss, Donnie snarls and pulls his hand away as if burnt. The softshell pauses, forcing himself to take a deep breathe. Visibly calmer, he lets out a put upon sigh.  “Well, I guess I was right.” The older teen huffs, casting the boy a side eye. “This is what would bring you back to us.” 

Despite his best efforts, the rejection causes a violent shake through his shoulders. Unsettled, Cj curls into himself, quietly tucking his hands into the folds of the blanket to hide the trembling limbs. Ah. Of course. Why would he ever- and tries not to let the cold reception make his eyes sting with tears. Push it it down. He can’t-

Willing himself not to cry,  the human forces himself to focus on the soft shell’s bruised fist. Greenish yellow patches already blooming around knuckles, nothing purple or black, it wasn’t even bleeding anymore too, good.  No immediate intense swelling or oddly shaped protrusions either, so nothing broken. Just a scrap that will clear up in an hour or two. Courtesy of advanced mutant healing.

Case’s fingers twitch, resisting the urge to reach back for the bruised fist and feel around just to be extra sure, better safe than sorry. But misplaced familiarity and deeply honed instinct tells him that Donatello is barely tolerating him as is. There are so many questions Cj wants to ask, why is he here? What happened to him? Why did they bring him back here? Are they all ok? Have they been taking care of themselves? Eating well? Drinking well? Sleeping well? Please be taking care of yourselves. Please be ok.

But Case bites his tongue down. Doesn’t know if he’s allowed to ask right now. Doesn’t know if he’ll ever be allowed too again. 

It hurts.

Taking his continued silence and downcast gaze as permission to keep talking. Donnie sighs and rolls his eyes. “Can I assume you are lucid and capable of responding to questions?”He asks, brow raised.  The younger teen manages a half shrug in response. Frankly he feels like shit. His entire body feels like one big giant bruise and the mere thought of even talking feels like grinding stones around his mouth in some sad attempt to trick his body into thinking it actually ate. But this isn’t about him right now. So he sucks that up too. Usual procedure. Nothing new.

"Good.” Donnie nods briskly. “It's currently 8pm on a Friday. You're in the lair's Medbay for a severe bacterial infection from some untreated lacerations you sustained in your arms and back and have been experiencing catatonic disassociation for the better part of 16 days."

Casey stiffens. The smaller, sensible part of his brain shrieks, WHAT!? 16 DAYS!? Bacterial infection? Fuck. Nightmare images of pus, glazed eyes, glinting knives and the-ImsorryimsosorryIpromise Iwillmakethisquick-torrent through his mind. Holy shit how was he still alive? Those things are death sentences.

But the larger, morbidly amused part of his Brain, born from being raised by the world’s most chaotic family, quips; Hah! it's catatonic this time? I leveled up! A thing that is totally both normal to want and able to achieve. Which might have unintentionally showed up as slight upward twitch of his face, given the questioning furrow on Donnie’s face.

Cheeks warm, Cj ducks his head down again, mouthing a quiet ‘sorry’ and mentioning for the other to continue. Right. He should have known  even his humour was out of place here.

"Anyways, in lieu of.. this whole situation.” The Purple banded teen gestures with his hand “I have some questions I need to ask." Donnie continues, flipping through pages, with renewed intensity. Which is fair, medical procedure and all. The ravenette inclines his head slightly to let the softshell know he was listening and willing to cooperate. It's the least he can do.

“What year is it?”

"2020." Casey replies promptly, and without hesitation. It was 2020 wasn’t it? Time couldn’t possibly have flown that fast. 

Donnie's eyes flash. "Wrong. 2021"

The ravenette grimaces. Mouthing a silent 'oh’.  And tries to ignore the niggling feeling that he should be feeling a little more than a slight jab at the news. He’ll deal with that later. Preferably never. 

Meanwhile Donnie resists the urge to freak out. One question wrong? fine. It didn't mean anything. Catatonic episode aside, the veteran child soldier had somehow, miraculously just managed to barely avoid going septic. And compounded with the long term ramifications of prolonged dehydration and malnutrition, it was a miracle he wasn’t dead,  much less coherent. He was either very lucky or very stubborn or both.

“Your age?”

”15. I-I mean 16.”

"Skeletal scans say you're at least around 20 to 22" Donnie can’t hide the frowns this time. Did the time traveler have brain damage too? No, his newly installed MRI scans would have picked it up. There were scars yes. But they were old. If Jones was having any recall issues it would have shown up earlier. 

His bioscans were never wrong. Even when he wished it was. Zero brain activity, no recorded heart beat. No sign of life, Nardo, nardo please I swear-

Miraculously, the younger(?) teen somehow finds a way to shrink further into the already swaddling blanket

"There was.. an accident." Casey looks away.

"What kind of accident?" Donnie hisses sharply and jerks his head forward.

Maybe it was harsh but he was still pissed. Plus he had a right to know. For medical purposes if nothing else. No way some "accident" that supposedly aged someone 4-7 years forward had no lasting repercussions. If the human was to be believed, his body was already so fucked. They worked too hard for future boy to kick the bucket over some bullshit that could have been prevented, if he wasn't such a secretive bastard.

The boy hunches further into himself, mumbling something into the sheets. Peculiarly it brings to mind an image of Mikey partially popping his shell whenever startled. It twinges something in Donnie's chest. He ignores it.

"Speak up Jones." His eyes narrow.

In response, the human goes ram-rod straight as if a soldier being ordered to stand to attention before forcing his body to sag.

"It was a Ninpo accident." The ravenette explains at all, still adverting his eyes."I was trying to save.. someone. It didn't work." He slumps further.

Somehow stiffer and more miserable looking than before.

Well shit. Donnie officially regrets asking. Of course, there were mystic shenanigans. Didn't the human call Mikey, Master Michelangelo at some point? That implied some sort of teacher-student dynamic. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Normally, he wouldn't be so quick to take any of this at face value, but it filled in biological discrepancies that couldn't be explained. Like the abnormally high number of stretch marks on his skin and strange puncture scars (as if bones were being grown too fast, too quickly for skin to cateh up it pierced through skin, muscle and fat) and while invisible, to the naked eye, it also made the eerily identical pattern of scarring on a certain box turtle hands and arms make sense.

Oh god, he is Mikey-sized.

But more importantly, not that the brief light show wasn't already proof enough, none of what the present Hamatos had picked up was a fluke after all. Soldier boy has Ninpo. Soldier boy was using Ninpo before he got sent back. And more importantly Soldier boy knows what Ninpo is.Good, this will make things much easier for them.

"Well, you seem lucid enough." Donnie concludes, putting the clipboard aside. "Might as well bring in the rest of earsdropping Calvary."

Eager to move on from the topic. Casey mused.Which is fair, he wouldn't want to stick around himself either.

"The Calvary?"

Donnie doesn't respond, in favour of pushing aside the thick curtain separating the medbay from the rest of the lair."Ahem, family? The hostage is grounded and fit for questioning." The softshell drawls.

Predictably they all try to flood into the medbay at the exact same time. Only to get stuck, tangled together.

"Raph! You're squishing me!"

"Splints I swear if you don't get your tail outta my eye!"

"Enough! You are all crushing my old bones!" It takes a few minutes. One disapproving Raph glare-

(once upon a time the snapper might have even lightly smacked the backside of Donnie's face, scolding something about reckless and what not. But that was then, this was now. He's here now and that's more than they can ask for)

-at the Softshell's injured hand. Before at last, the group finally settles. Limbs untangled and their curtain no worse for wear. And with it, a cloying silences descends upon on the group.

They all stare at future boy, future boy stares back, expectant and waiting. Donnie groans.Urgh, this was getting nowhere. Once again, he has to be the superior turtle and address the elephant in their room.

"The portal to the prison dimension. Why did you do it?" Donnie questions.

Something seems to uncurl yet harden in the teen at the same time. "I'm sorry." The ravenette says gravely, gaze boring to the ground as if willing it to swallow him whole.

"That isn't answering the question." Donnie reminds firmly.

Casey shakes his head, "I don't.. I can't." Because he knows these people. He knows. These people are good, they are so,so good. The last thing he wants is for them to start caring for him out of obligation. He doesn't want their damn pity.

"Knowing isn't going to help anything. It's over it's gone. If I could have taken his place- I swear." Cj wrings his scarred hands togather. "Look, you don't have to force yourself. You have a right to hate me." His face scrunches, as if the words themselves were poison to him. Casey forces himself to make eye contact with them, "you all do." He states, face hard with grim resolve.

"Whether or not we're hate you isn't up to you, it's up to us." Mikey chimes in, if he didn't know better, the turtle sounds almost gentle. Luckily Casey knows better. "But back then." the box turtle winces. "we felt you, Casey we did. Ninpo isn't just a part of us as individuals. It's also the parts from each other that we carry within ourselves. And we didn't know you'd be there. I think we at least have a right to know why." Mikey says softly, his eyes wide and pleading.

For the first time since he's been brought back here. The first spark of emotion beyound from primal fear and fatigue breaks across Future boy's gaunt face. "What?" Casey's eyes widen.No.No.This changes everything. "You can feel me, you can feel me..." His breath quickens, fingers digging crescents into his palms. Bacterial infection, he definitely almost died. Molten golden-orange, static purple, fiery blue, rocksteady red, bubbling indigo and branching green they all were there. But they sputtered out now, he felt them go. They felt him go. Oh god. These younger, squishier, family felt him going.

Casey ducks his head down not wanting them to see him like this. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! If I knew you would feel-! I would have moved further out." He shudders, furiously squeezing his eyes shut to trap the tears in. He didn't deserve to cry. He didn't. Not after what he put the younger variants of his family through. First Blue, almost Teal. They weren't used to this, they weren't supposed to be used to this. They weren't like him. He was supposed to keep them safe-

"Casey." April takes a step forward, careful and measured, a complete 180 to mere 12 months ago. "What where you to future us?"

He makes a choked, strangled sound. In the face of all that, Case couldn't exactly leave them hanging could he? He wasn't that cruel.

"!." the feeling of bile rises up his throat. The ravenette swallows it down. Something old, bloody and jagged tells him there isn't enough food or water to spare if he throws it all up. "I was your son." He fixes a single meaningful eye contact on Mikey, pushing down the full bodied seize of tears that surface at the admission. He has to say it, he has to. Case never truly got to hash this out with uncl- dad. He can't bring himself to lie here. Not when there's no one else to remember them by.

He lingers long enough to see the box turtle's face turn to ash. Before the time traveler quickly looks away again. He feels like shit, he wants to throw up. Every word feels like swallowing glass which 0/10 he will not recommend. But he has too, he owes them the truth: he owes them this much, they deserve to know who exactly ruined their family.

Casey shudders, shoulders hiking up defensively. "And.. I was Sensei's kid too." His voice cracks, balling his hands into tighter bound fists.

He can't so much as see, so much as he feels them recoil back as if physically struck. It hurts, but he's always been good with rolling with the punches. They were his, always would be, never in doubt. But he wasn't theirs anymore. The tension in the air feels like a wire pulled taunt. It's as good as permission as anything.

The teen continues, "My mom, Cassandra. You may also know her as Casey" Casey clarifies. "found me as a baby on a supply run one day. I guess the rest of you must have thought I would make a cute nephew or grandson because you all kept me ever since. There's not much to say to it" Despite himself, Case still smiles wryly. Despite everything, being found by them, being chosen by them, god, it brings such a surge of warmth that will never go away. Being found was the best thing to ever happen to him.

Which was why, even now the teen resolutely refused to look up and gaze at the (definitely) devastated or even disgusted faces of the people standing before him. It would break him, this he knows. In the end, there truly wasn't anything special about him. He was just one very lucky kid. Maybe a little too lucky, if he was still standing here

“..and the portal?" Raph probs quietly.

With a sharp exhale, the human teen runs a hand iver his face. Then cracks his head to the side, releasing the tension stored within his neck muscles. Might as well, he's going to be a while. He grouses bitterly.

Taking in another deep breath, Casey then steels himself and lifts his head high, level with their gaze. Chin up, stand to attention. This decorum is the least he can give."I just wanted to protect you guys." He says softly, the soft voice at complete odds with the boy's stiff posture, squared shoulders and heavy gaze.

Donnie snorts,"protect us? Are you serious?!" He barks out a jagged laugh. "Newtons beard, I-!" The soft shell forcefully cuts himself off, and quickly steps back. "no.. no,no. Donatello you're trying to be objective here." Donnie grumbles quietly to himself, whilst pinching the tip of his snout where a nose should be, were he human. He likely intended for no one to hear him.

Unfortunately, Casey did. He always had sharp ears, that's what everyone always told him growing up. And despite his earlier convictions that final dig of indignation is all it takes for the tenuous hold over the emotionally fraught teenager's emotions-grief,hurt,anger,fear-to finally snap.

Inexplicably, (or perhaps it was a long time coming) a burst of tidal rage, built upon years and years of helplessness, of desperation, of having to choose the worst option, of having no option, because the walls were closing in, the Krang were coming closer, tempers were rising, the bodies kept piling, and food was running out. Raises its shrieking head and screams; How dare you.You know nothing.

"Shut the fuck up! You don't know anything!"Casey roars, slamming his fists into the duvet. "I never wanted to do this! I never asked to be here!"The teen jabs a finger at Donnie. "Maybe your mind is going to shit. But at least your mind is going to shit in peace!"The ravenette screams.

"You never have to worry about food or water, or when you're gonna die! All you have to do is focus on taking care of yourself!" The ravenette snarls."Have you ever had someone you who used to be your uncle, lose their fucking mind and try to kill you in a god damn temper tantrum?! Have you ever seen your uncle go off the fucking rails and almost kill his own brother?! Have you? Have you?!" Casey shrieks, throwing his hands out to the shell-shocked family, wildly.

"CUZ I FUCKING HAVE!!" Casey screams, feeling the breath abruptly leave his lungs. He heaves, suddenly aware of his peculiarly wet cheeks. Huh, since when did he start crying? And just like that, like a switch had been flipped, the anger is gone just as quickly as it came.

Bowled over by the heavy weight of exhaustion, his anger clears, and with it, the human's clarity returns. Oh god. Cj thinks, scanning the horrified and stunned faces of his family. Looking just as horrified as the day he told them about the Krang. What has he done? What has he done?

"I-!" The ravenette slumps. His breath hitches, "I'm so sorry-!" Casey sobs,the grief, shame and guilt, heavy and ever present finally reaching out to choke and steal his breath away. Why does he only ever seem to ruin things? Cj buries his face into his hands, but to no avail. it cannot hide the salty stream of tears flowing down his face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to.." The boy shakes, "I'm so so sorry."

"They were good!" Casey warbles, frantically trying to scrub the tears way. "I swear! My family, you guys, you guys were so so good!"Because they were good. They were.

(Tired Golden-Orange heaves himself into the air, to scoop Cj into his arms.

Busy Blue who takes any meagre time he has to himself and spends it with Cj.

Prickly Purple finds away to colour all his armour a shade of teal, even his siblings are still decked in occasional shades of grey.

Overstretched Green always ready to pull her brothers back and scold; too guilty, too smothering, too harsh. Stop. You're hurting the kid.

Grumbling Oak Red, always scowling, always complaining but never failed to run a soothing hand through Cj's hair or let Cj play with his antlers.

Anxious Indigo, forever trying, forever distracting, forever trying to drag Cj into her games. Never mind that she could have chosen anybody for a big brother.

They tried so hard.They tried so fucking hard.

But none of it mattered.Because they lost.

The Krang won.

And he was still here.

And that hurt-)

"It's just-the war, the Krang!" Overwhelmed, the ravenette withdraws his hands into his sleeves and ducks his head down under neckline of his borrowed sweater whilst tucking his knees to his chest almost like a hiding box turtle. It breaks the present Hamato's hearts to know why. Like father, like son.

Slowly, gently, as if approaching a cornered animal. Calloused hands gently lift the boy's head up. "Master Splinter." Casey hiccups, shame pooling in his gut. No father wanted to hear how his sons went astray. "I'm so sorry, I promise your sons-"

"I know." Splinter cuts him off quickly, his eyes suspiciously shiny. "I know my sons will always be brave and selfless men. And.." he turns slightly, eyeing his sons and April intently. Just so they knew he was addressing all his younger charges.April may not be his daughter, but she was family and he was the adult. He owed it to her as well. "..l know no matter what happens, I will always love my family."

In response, all four (five it used to be five) of his charges immediately huddle together at his declaration, his Orange sniffs trying not to let more tears fall. The old man lets himself feel the first hint of satisfaction he's felt in a long time. If nothing else, at least this he managed to say this right.

One year is not enough. One year will never be enough. His son, his baby blue is gone. As much Splinter wants to shake his fist to the sky and wail- not him,not my baby,take me instead-He still has responsibilities, and staring down this emancipated teenager, skin for bones and fighting off the aftershocks of a near fatal infection. These are not the actions of a desensitised, hardened soldier, but a grieving, traumatised orphan.

And Splinter knew a lot about grieving, traumatised orphans. Heck, he was one. Still is, in fact.

His Go-getter Raphael and his big bear hugs dissolving into hesitant head pats.

His Donatello brave and brilliant who they always joked was more hermit mad scientist than turtle, becoming more hermit and mad than they ever wanted him to be.

His Loud and resilient April now silent as a mouse. Weighted down by the grief and exhaustion.

His Michelangelo more subdued than he had ever been. So full of guilt he quite literally glued to the lair, despite his wandering, carefree nature.

They would never be the same.

Slowly, the elderly mutant draws slow circles along the younger human's cheek. It works like a charm, the human boy calms, blinking away the tears. "I chose to close the portal, because I couldn't put you all through that again." He rasps, his eyes now hazy, drift away from the old man to the rest of the group up, cloudy and unseeing.

"I've never seen my Master Donatello so excited to use his geographical algorithms." Unknowingly Cj cracks a sad, crooked smile. It's achingly familiar, albeit it belonged to a greener more exuberant face. They try not to flinch. The shape is the same. Like father and son indeed.

"No matter how brilliant, how useful his work, at his best he was only mildly content. Before I met you l didn't even know he could talk that fast.Most of the time I think he just started to hate inventing things." Casey chuckles sadly, lost down memory lane. Meanwhile, Donnie can't help but shift uneasily at the evaluation. The thought of ever hating the art of invention was wrong. It was his whole thing. His love language, it was how he coped. It's how he was coping right now.

"Somewhere along the line. The apocalypse took it all away and then he died and never got a chance to get it back." The boy explains stiffly, withdrawing himself from Splinter's hand. He lifts his head up to the ceiling as if he was peering into something they could no longer see.

"And Michelangelo," Casey clenches and unclenches his fists. "you're really loud and bouncy. Big words lots of big movement, Master Michelangelo was never like you. You offered me pizza even when I was tied up."

The kid still remembers that?

"My master rarely spoke above a whisper. I can count the number of times he yelled on one hand.

Even on field it was hard to call his voice a speaking level. He was never that friendly to strangers either." Unbidden; his voice begins to pick up speed; "The Apocalypse turned him into something so quiet; so calm and so tired. If I hadn't seen met you, I wouldn't have believed you guys were ever the same person."

His eyes shift briefly towards April. April gulps, not at all excited to hear all the fresh new ways the universe can break her down. "April, my commander wasn't all that different from you. But she was very tired and become a chronic smoker." The way her face twists in discomfort, already says everything they need to know of her thoughts on that matter.

"Near the end, Master Michelangelo, Commader O'Neil and Sensei was the only ones left. Then you both all died. And it was just Sensei and me at the very end. Then Sensei sacrificed himself. I've never seen him so relieved in my life."

The group suck in a collective breath. A Leo sacrificing themselves hits a little bit too close to home.

"And I don't remember either of you." Cj gestures half-heartedly to Raph and Splinter. Raph can't help but shrink at the mention. "But I saw what losing you both did to them."

"Sensei, blamed himself constantly. He always told me you were both his heros. Whatever he did. He did it to make you two proud. He threw himself into battles, constantly. He was reckless, grieving. Some days it was hard to tell if he wanted to make it back at all. That's how He lost his arm." Casey drones robotically, remembering vividly just how much bloody chaos was wrecked that day.

 If he wasn't already so emotionally spent, that alone would have resulted in a fresh burst of tears. More than anything he just wants to lay down, close his eyes and pretend this wasn't happening. But life was never fair. And he owed the present Hamato answers they asked off him.

"Master Donatello single handedly became fluent in Japanese and he built a robot version of Master Raphael." All eyes dart to Donnie. And Donnie..Donnie is pale. Like a person who looks like they have been caught red-handed.

April breathes, heart stuttering. "No you didn't."

"No!" The softshell snaps back quickly."! would never-I didn't." He shakes his head. "Not this time."

"My son..." Splinter cups the softshell's face, soft and sad.

"Let's just table this for now alright?" Donnie hisses, pulling away from his father. He gestures to the younger boy.

Mercifully Casey continues, "Commander O'Neil and Master Michelangelo were worn so thin trying to manage everyone until things managed to settle. Every second they weren't trying to mediate between Sensei and Master Donatello, or carry out their duties to the resistance, they were trying to taking care of me. If they slept at all." Briefly the corner of his mouth twitches downward, little flash of worn anger peeking through the thick sludge of numbing fatigue. Those hypocrites. Always telling him to take care of himself. Couldn't they see they were worrying Casey as much as they worried for him?

"My family.." Casey rubs his eyes. "They were so tired. it was so bad, you don't understand." The teen wraps his arms around himself. "If I could have taken Leo's place I would have. But I had to.

The war against the Krang dragged on for 24 years. I can't let you all turn out that way ever again." Cj bows his head down in shame, awaiting their judgment. His voice wobbles, betraying the mask of stoicism.

The silence is a thick and palpable one.

Raph gulps.

"Earlier Raph found you in the sewers-" the snapper winces, casting an apologetic look to his dad. "-eating rats, did you ever go to the surface at all?"

Head still bowed, Casey shakes his head morosely. "Im not sure. I don't remember much of anything. I think.. I think I tried to go up once. But I've never been to the surface myself before and it was all was just too much" he laughs bitterly. Figures that the one time the surface was safe to go up to, he would mess it all up.

It takes Donnie a while to notice the others have been casting looks his way the entire time. For a second he's confused. What was he supposed to do? But then he understands. Disaster twins, buy one get one free, do not separate. Two halves of one whole. He is Leo's keeper. And Leo was his.

No one knew Leo better than him.

Aside from dad, the person most shaken by Leo's death was him. Whatever the verdict on Cj, his verdict was the one the family will follow. Though he was pretty sure Raph and Mikey were already in the process of warming up to Cj.

There is just one last thing he needs to confirm.

"Your Ninpo.." Donnie steps forward and leans towards the teen,"it's some sort of healing power wasn't it?"

The rest of the family, save Donatello, recoil as if physically struck.

Casey freezes. Petrified. Going completely and utterly still. No more darting eye movements, not even breathing. Misty brown eyes go straight back from tenuous alertness to glazed and unfocused. For a moment, Donnie fears he pushed the kid too hard. And they have to wait another two weeks before he surfaces from the disassociation.

The apocalyptic grit proves him wrong.

A long keening wail explodes from the boy and he fully curls into himself again like he's trying to retreat into a nonexistent shell. It's high pitched, awful and grating like they just killed his entire family in front of him. And maybe they had

His composure completely shatters. The mask of numbness and fatigue he used to hide other emotions breaks completely, like the breaking of glass.

Casey curls deeper into himself and cries and cries and cries. In between gasps he tries look up at them and form words. Only to start choking on his tears. Repeating the same snotty miserable cycle.

It was uncomfortable and awful to look at. But somehow the Hamatos couldn't seem to look away like being unable to tear your eyes away from an oncoming train wreck.

At some point having had enough, Splinter leaves only to return and hand the boy a glass of water.

His eyes scream 'Can I?", Splinter pushes the cup into the boy's hands insistently, with a huff.

Distantly, Donnie remembers when he was younger. Screaming and failing his arms about in some meltdown, only for a cup of water straw in it to be pressed to his face, and a warm voice telling him 'Drink Purple. It will make you feel better' it was probably some sort of parenting trick to calm crying children.

The teen takes a small, mousy sip, it seems to do the job. "I'm sorry" the human mumbles, still blinking tears. "H-how?" He coughs. Which was fair, all that crying had to have done a number on his already sore throat. Donnie concludes, trying not to think about strange squeeze in his chest that came with the thought. He was not thinking about it. Nu-uh.

"Well;" Donnie starts, retrieving a wipe from his battle shell's compartment to wipe what was definitely not a stray tear from his part. "First off I want to make it clear that you are a terrible healer." He narrows his eyes at the ravenette.

This makes Casey Jones; future son of Cassandra Jones and ward of a long deceased Hamatos find a way to silently cry himself harder into further dehydration. If not for the IV tubes circulating Saline and Antibiotics into his veins keeping him alive that is. "I know." Cj whispers again. Big fat wet tears forming yet another puddle on the duvet, which if it weren't for the situation would have been mildly impressive. Just where was the kid getting all that water to cry from? “I’m sorry.” His voice hoarse.

And it is there here, right there, Donatello Hamato begins to think;

The truth is, he's always been a spiteful and petty person. Ask anyone in the family, they will tell you he can hold a grudge. Leo can blaze for hours, Donnie will simmer for days. Even now, the angry you you you, points accusing fingers at the cursed, bedridden human, You killed my twin.

And probably always will.

But he's tired. He's so so tired.

And he's so sick of losing anymore family.

And unfortunately, brilliant overthinker that he is, Donnie can't help but run back under newer, fresher and yes-loath he is to admit it- less angry, more depressed eyes. He can, urgh-understand Casey's reasonings. It has logic.

He can't speak for the others' behaviours, given his recent lack of presence (he's fixing that).

But a robot raph is something he would do.

Especially since crazed, near incomprehensible blueprints of a robotic twin has made it to his table at the peak of his lowest moments. But one four hour power nap and some coffee later, he always, always burned those blueprints, He missed his twin, god did he miss his twin. But this was A) literally impossible. No amount of programming can ever replace someone, much less a soul. At best, it will simply be a convincing replica not the genuine article. B) Crossing a line even he knows is unacceptable. C) The pain and horror it will inflict on his similarly grieving family will be devastating.

However placed in a world, where his usual crutches of coffee was gone and sleep, which would have been more elusive at the nightmare fuel that was the Krang, added with the stress of making weaponry and whatever else for an entire resistance to survive. Would he, theoretical Donatello, have been levelheaded enough to know or care he was making a catastrophic mistake? No. Definitely not.

To think Cj lived though all that and didn't immediately sock Donnie in the face out for the fury or pain, his Donatello undoubtedly inflicted is already more than Donnie would do if he were in Casey's shoes.

("Donatello, you were the smartest person I ever knew!")

No. Instead when prompted, Casey sang his master's praises, and looks at Donnie, looks at all of them, with all the love, care and steadfast belief that they are people worth trusting in, worth believing that they are incredible, capable and amazing people(possibly a little too much), as well as protecting them. Despite having never met this version of them and witnessing firsthand exactly what the right kind of destitution will twist them into.

This is Casey, who played a role in taking away his twin. But his twin has also always been stubborn, selfless and sacrificial. And a turtle who (still so young, too young) was still old enough to make his own choices and charming enough to get most people to agree with him.

Utimately the one who landed the final blow was the Krang not Casey. Which wouldn't even have gotten to that point if it weren't for the stupid foot clan (he seriously needs to convince Raph to let him make an exception to that no-kill rule for those fuckers. They were too dangerous. Period).

And this is Casey... who has indirectly saved him from making one of the biggest mistakes in his life.

Whose drive to care is so strong, it pulls him from whatever mental horrors that has him staring blankly at walls for 15 whole days and needing a feeding tube to function, to reach out and care for Donnie's self inflicted injury. Jones simply cannot stand well enough to leave them alone. Oh Fibonacci, It was so much like Leo it hurt-

Only their kind of Hamato can love like this.Twisted, bent and pushed-

(A Mikey sized healer stands over countless nameless corpses, a Mikey sized healer stands over their broken corpses unable to staunch the bleeding no matter what he gives up trying. Hey Junior, I think the apocalypse broke you too)

-into learning how to let go. But still it is theirs.

And the Hamatos of their time, do not have an apocalypse to teach them to let go of family like their future counterparts had.

There is already a gaping vacuum where electric, fiery blue used run through their shared space, occasionally egging them into a playful chase.

They don't need another. They can't have another.

No more. They have to stick together.

He's still angry. He'll always be angry and hurt and grieving and whatever else Mikey's manuel on bereaved people should be feeling. Everyone will always be hurting.

Raph might never hug them as freely as he used too. April might never be able to stomach staying over as often as she used too. Mikey might never bounce around the walls of their home or wander outside as freely like he used to. And their Dad might never come around to being present like he was learning too. And Donnie himself.. he doesn't know if he'll ever learn to breathe without a hitch in his step. Always feeling raw, always feeling as if everything was always shifted just a little to the left.

A world without their Blue is hell. But hell can always become so much worse. Can always make people become so much worse.

And this orphaned, displaced, dehydrated, malnutritioned in a way only years upon years of never getting to eat or drink well, kid has seen it, lived it. And gave up everything precious to him if it meant that hell wouldn't become theirs.

Stupid kid didn't even try to plead his case. He didn't demand anything. He asked for nothing.

They wanted him to leave, and he did.

Determined to stay away till it quite literally almost killed him, all because Donnie simply asked him too.

Stupid kid even apologised.

Leo would have loved you.

It's hard to only be just angry in the face of such annoying, almost Leo-and-Mikey-like love. Even for someone as petty and spiteful as him. Donnie can feel the beginnings of something soft and almost worried, start to co-exist alongside the hate, grief and anger when he looks at Junior. I'm angry, The purple branded softshell realises. I'm still angry but you're just a kid too and you don't deserve to be alone.

Leo would have loved to love you.

Two metal claws extend out from his battle shell.

One bearing tissue, and the other carrying his trusty spray bottle of hand sanitizer. His mind made up, Donnie sighs, feeling his shoulder sag from far, far more than just the weight of his battle shell. " -But the attempt you made for my hand was passable, So I suppose you make a semi-decent pain killer."

"Huh?" Casey croaks, big sad wet eyes still watering. Donnie grimaces. And sprays the hand sanitizer point blank at Casey's face. "You heard me." He grumbles.

Cj splutters, ineffectually batting at the air to clear the smell. The surprise breaks the kid from his crying fest. Hm, noted.

"Now blow your nose Junior Jones. You look disgusting." The turtle grouses. Tentatively, Junior takes the offered tissue like it's a trap and blows.

With a final nod, Donnie leans back, and turns to give the final judgement to his waiting family. "It should take another 3 weeks for the antibiotics to run its course. If our hostage tries to move before then, the tranquillisers are in the first cabinet to the left." The softshell announces promptly, marching to the Med-bay's exit. Uncaring to anyone who doesn't know him.

Luckily, his family do know him. Because April laughs, Raph shakes his head fondly, Mikey beams and Splinter curls his tail in amusement.

"Now if there is nothing else to discuss | will be in my lab till dinner. And yes, Mikey." Donnie rolls his eyes. Sensing the box turtle's immediate objection. "I will set my alarm for dinner as well as an auto unlock should I not leave within 15 minutes. Now good day." And with a wave, the softshell leaves the room, eager to retreat back to his lab to take a break from all these emotions. His included.

Then as if this was some unspoken que, the rest slowly depart, throwing one or two shy smiles at Casey's way. "Sleep well." Raph says to him. And then, he is alone. Left to the silence of the medbay, save for the occasional whirring of machines. Alone, yes. But not abandoned.

It doesn't feel like much.

It feels like waiting at the threshold and finally being allowed to cross over.

It will not be perfect.

But Cassandra Jones Junior has never needed much to begin with.

Perhaps, Casey thinks, with a small tinge of barely rekindled hope, as the lights in the med bay automatically dim for comfortable sleeping, that this could be the start of him being finally able to shake off a cold and lonely existence and be called back home.

He lets his eyes drift shut.

Yes, he was finally going home too.

..thank you.