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Chapter Text

Slurred Speech / Duct Tape / Darkness

The room is unbelievably stuffy.

“Mngggh…” He groans, but the soft exhale doesn’t help. It makes the pressure on his lungs worse, drawing attention to the fact that the weight is there at all. “Whha..?”

It makes it hard to breathe. There’s a heat in the air that has settled uncomfortably on his skin. When he shifts, the bed feels more like hard ground. Donnie opens his eyes. The room spins and his head pounds, so he closes them again to get his bearings.

His first coherent thought is that he needs to get up.

His second is that he can’t move his hands.

His shoulders are locked in a tense position. He forces his eyes open again to try and get a look at his wrists. He can’t see anything. He squints and squirms and scans the entire perimeter, but the black is too intense to see through. He focuses on the sensation around his arms. Sticky and firm when he tries to shift it, pinching when the skin moves. 

It’s duck tape. Whoever he is, it's not safe. 

He swallows the thick saliva in his throat. 

“Ghhyyss?” He squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t know how it’s possible that the darkness is moving, but it makes it hard to think. “Hhe -hlllo?”

No one answers. Nothing moves.

He tries to breathe, manually. 

Every breath feels harder than the last.

He needs to get up. He needs to do something.

His arms don’t move like he wants them to. His legs are stuck together too. He doesn’t know how he didn’t feel that.

His body deposits him back on the floor. His stomach rolls.

He curls up, hands to his stomach. Sweat beads over his palms.

All he can think is that if he throws up, he might be stuck laying in it.

He can’t breathe.

He can’t throw up.

He can't move.

The heat is suffocating.

He's not safe.

He's not safe.

A small whine fills the empty space.

Chapter Text

Infection / Protective / Confession

Raph can hear Splinter and Leo talking.

He can’t hear what they’re saying, but the low murmur of voices in Donnie’s bedroom reaches Mikey’s open door. His eyes leave his lap when the door opens, tilting to see Splinter walking out of his room. His father’s steps are fluid, moving with intent.

A few minutes pass and Leo doesn’t follow. The door closes.

Raph gets up from his bed, slowly separating himself from a clinging Mikey. Mikey nestles into his pillow, a deep sleeper once he manages to get down. He’s careful not to touch any of the bruises, creeping over to the door. He stays with his hand on the wood, debating what good his presence would be. He wants to see Donnie. He doesn’t want his older brother to see him. If he waits too long, Splinter will come back.

Eventually, he resigns to the fact that Leo has no plans to leave.

He goes up to Donnie’s door.

His hand rises. He lowers it. It rises. He lowers it.

He shakes his fist in front of his chest. Quit being such a baby. 

Raph knocks, already regretting breaking the silence.

Leo opens the door. His older brother is mid-word when he sees him, expression hardening into something that has Raph’s hackles raised. “What do you want?”

“Well, I’m at Donnie’s room knocking on his door.” Raph snaps back, wishing he’d just stayed with the one brother who does want him around despite everything. “What do you think?”

“He’s asleep,” Leo softens a bit. “How’s Mikey?”

“The same,” He tries to push open the door but Leo regains the firmness. “He doesn’t need you around right now.”

It’s probably true. “His words or yours?” Raph’s in too deep to give up now. 

“Objective fact.” Leo’s cold tone doesn’t change. “Go back to Mikey.”

“Your words.” Raph confirms bitterly. “You don’t get to speak for him.”

“I’m trying to speak for his best interests.” 

“I thought we were cool.”

“Yeah, well, that was until I heard about all the things that you told Spike you wanted to do to us so he went ahead and did it for you.”

Leo pushes on the door but Raph doesn’t move his hand. He can’t think past the words ringing in his head, past meaningless threats that were taken seriously. “I didn’t… I didn’t actually…”

Exasperation slips through, shimmering with pity and pinching his brow. “I know, Raph, I- just, go back to Mikey. Please?”

Raph thinks maybe he should. He moves his hand. 

A slurred voice calls Leo’s name.

Leo goes to it. Raph puts his hand on the door and pushes it open. 

Leo’s at their brother’s side, sitting down next to him. Donnie relaxes at his return, closing his eyes and leaning towards him. Raph glances at the foot propped up by the pillow and the yellowish color sliding up his ankle. He looks at his older brother. 

Leo brushes the mask tails from Donnie’s shoulders. “It’s infected.” 

“Does it…” He glances back at it. Leo admits, “He says it doesn’t. Just that it’s hot.”

Raph sits and listens to his little brother breathe. 

Leo says, “You tell us some pretty messed up stuff. How much did you tell Spike?”

“Everything.” The thought has his heart racing and his insides twisting. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. “He was, he was harmless. It was supposed to be harmless.” 

“It was,” Leo whispers. Raph locks their gaze, startled. “It was harmless. He was harmless. He would have stayed harmless…”

“You,” Raph hesitates, “You’re mad I took the mutagen? But Donnie-”

“Donnie blows stuff up everyday, but Donnie would never have spilled it. Donnie had it safely put away- you took it. You took it when you could have just made him close the door.” Leo breaks their gaze, touching the likely feverish scalp. “You should have just made him close the door.” 

That never even occurred to Raph. Everything he said, every dark thought that lived on in his pet’s brain, he put them there. He thought he’d made a mistake, letting them fester in the brain of another- the mind of his pet. He hated that he ever voiced them, but he’d been voicing them for years and nothing had happened. Nothing happened until he acted on the anger.

Until he hurt Spike, turned him into something terrible. And Slash hurt his brothers.

“I shouldn’t have taken it.” He repeats quietly. “I should have made him close the door.”

Leo exhales shakily. Raph bunches the fabric beneath his fingers.

“If Slash got me, instead of Donnie…” Goosebumps prickle down his arms. Leo was better off than his brothers, but he sounds weak. “Would I… Would he have…”

Raph can’t breathe. He can’t move. He’s done an excellent job of blocking that out.

He doesn’t want to stop now. He doesn’t want to know.

“He needs know.” Leo says finally, “He needs to know he didn’t make Slash.”

“He didn't.” Raph tells his awake older brother and the sleeping little brother and the father that has paused right outside the door to listen in. “I-I mean, he shouldn’t have…” 

He catches his tongue, stopping the instinct to shift the blame.

“I made Slash.” He’s tired of getting angry at them. “I killed Spike.” 

Leo leans forwards. Splinter comes into the room.

Raph’s eyes are burning so he doesn’t look at either of them when he runs.

Splinter’s hand goes out. He dodges around it because it’s an offer, not a trap, and he doesn’t want to accept it. He doesn’t feel right accepting anything but punishment. 

He goes back to Mikey and closes the door behind him. His baby brother stirs at the slam, demanding his hug without fully waking up. Raph gives him what he wants; anything to make something better. He squeezes down, churring absently at the new connection.

Raph holds him and stares at the bruises across his head.

Mikey falls asleep against his plastron. 

Raph shuts his eyes and refuses to move.

He hopes the pillow dries before Mikey wakes up.

Chapter Text

Kidnapping / Murder / Prisoner

“NO!”

Her dad’s body hits the floor.

The burst from the laser has drilled a hole in his head but the coffee table prevents her from seeing if anything comes out. She doesn’t want to see anything come out. She wants him to get back up and tell her that he’s okay. She wants the Kraang to stop smiling at her like he’d hit the jackpot at a game on Coney Island. She wants him to get out of the suit. The one that looks exactly like her best friend.

When she darts forward, the Kraang grabs her arm and throws her back into the wall.

Her head slams into it as Subprime shouts for them to be more careful. She’s dragged up from the wall, listening to the frustrated rant, “Just because the runaway’s the worst doesn’t mean we damage the kid. Did you idiots forget we need that brain intact?! I swear, you guys make the Utrom look competent! What are you even good for?!”

“Dad!” April tries to go to him but the Kraang bot holds tight. The fabric of her pajamas does nothing to prevent the pain from such a tight grip. She kicks at it but it doesn’t let her go. “Dad! Dad, get up!”

“Forget about him, kid!” Subprime is grinning at her again. “He’s gonna be the least of your problems, trust me.”

She screams at him, deep, rage-filled grief, and he rolls his eyes. He turns back to the other Kraang like she doesn’t even exist. “Hey, one of you dumb droids got the phone from her bedroom. Charges the thing next to her bed.”

April can’t even begin to process the fact that she’d let this thing in her bedroom for more sleep-overs than she can count. The bot moves to go.

There’s a rap on her window.

They all freeze.

Then, she opens her mouth and the Kraang’s hand inserts in to cut off her cry. She gags around the taste of metal, listening to Donnie’s soft, “April?”

None of the Kraang makes a sound. April prays to hear one of his brother’s interjections.

A few beats. Donnie knocks again, nervous voice speaking a little louder. “April?”

Subprime grins and raises his gun in spindly hands. 

“Goody.” He whispers. “Just one. This’ll be quick.”

He winks as April’s heart stops. She shouts, muffled by metal and the sound of Donnie muttering awkwardly to himself outside. She can feel the hot tears running down her face, wondering why she never told him that Irma was coming over.

He never would have come. He wouldn’t be there.

“Awe.” Subprime cooes. “Well, since we’re friends...”

He gestures to the Kraang behind him and then slowly moves to her bedroom.

She waits to hear him cry out, run, fall. The third Kraang turns to her.

The last thing that April feels is a blaster to the chest.

Chapter Text

Crutches / Denial / Whimper

Leo doesn't know what he was thinking.

It hadn’t seemed like a big deal before- making a bet with Raph about how long he’d last without his crutches. He just wanted him to see that it wouldn’t be fun to walk around without assistance so he’d stop complaining. He thought he’d give up after five minutes of struggling. He thought it would be funny. 

He didn’t think that he’d run off in the stealth bike to still make his rendezvous with Casey, or that he’d find him minutes after a legion of Footbots. 

Leo heard the tearing of tires as the Footbot managed to rip him out of the vehicle and toss him. It crashed into a light pole, leaving a sizable dent that would probably have given him a concussion right along with the broken bone.

He charges across the rooftop, leaping down to remove the closest threat to his younger brother’s vicinity. A quick swipe of blades has one problem solved.

He turns his attention to the others as Raph snaps, “What are you doing here?!”

“Saving your shell!”

“I don’t need your help!” 

“You look it!”

“I got it covered!”

Raph hops to his feet, only for a pained sound to punch out of between his teeth. He falls down to a knee as Leo takes on the following bots, reducing them to the scrap metal that they were born from. One manages to get the slip on him, tripping him up and knocking him onto his carapace. He grits his teeth as a blade goes to his throat.

“Leo!” 

Raph’s sai embeddes in the bot’s head, perfectly aimed despite the burst of panic. Leo kicks the swaying body away and moves back into battle. 

He processes too late that Raph is missing one sai until he cries out.

He spins and spots the mutant fish that’s pressing down on his injured bone like he knows exactly where the weakness is. His younger brother is lying on the ground, one arm trapped by his own weapon, trembling as pain courses through his system.

“Ah-ah-ah.” Fishface waggles a finger at Leo. “Drop it.”

Leo hesitates. Raph’s entire body spasms, gasping desperately. 

He drops the katanas. Fishface lifts his foot, partly.

A Footbot comes up from behind to shove Leo to the ground. Another snatches his weapon. Raph stares up at the sky, ragged pants seeming shorter and shorter every time that he inhales. Fishface grinds his metal foot enough to make him shut his eyes and whimper.

Leo’s blood boils. “Get off of him.”

“No.” Fishface preens. “Didn’t you hear him, tortuga? He’s got it covered!”

Fishface stomps down and Raph screams.

Chapter Text

Rash / Hypothermia / Bully 

Leo watches Donnie hit the snow for the third time.

He should have seen this coming. He should have known something was off about this small band of aliens. Size of the individual always has to be taken into account before the size of the group. He shouldn’t have put the team in this position. He should have seen the danger. He should have assumed that their offer to help wasn’t genuine. Decided that trusting them wasn’t worth the risk of being betrayed.

But they’d been desperate. There were a lot of things in this wide universe that they could handle, but three hours in these temperatures weren’t one of them. 

The rest of them were still in their spacesuits. Donnie had been chosen as the special target, stripped off everything that could have possibly provided warmth. They thought it was hilarious, dunking him in the snow and watching him crawl back out of the storm.

If Leo was freezing, he couldn’t imagine what Donnie must have been feeling.

One of the Yeti-like creatures was near the entryway, coaxing Donnie back in, promising that this time, this time, they’d let him near the fire. Leo wasn’t sure that they would, certain that they just wanted to see if he could go another round with motivation. He wasn't sure that Donnie was fully present, playing into their hands and putting himself through that, but when the choice was between humiliation or death, Leo couldn't find it in him to blame his brother for trying. 

He wanted to cheer him on for an entirely different reason, but he couldn’t speak through the lump of terror in his throat.

The other two fluffy-coated aliens were sitting beside them, cackling like they hadn’t seen anything funnier than a helpless, struggling turtle fighting for his life. 

Donnie faltered, slumping with his face in the snow, a few feet outside the cave. Leo flew forward but the alien batted him back into the wall like he was nothing.

Raph and Mikey stared at him in horror, the youngest shaking hands tightly gripping the wound on Raph’s arm. 

Leo got back up, looking between them frantically for an inch of sympathy or reasoning, “He’s going to die!” None of the Yeti’s react, but he presses on anyway, “If he doesn’t get up, now, he’s going to die! Please, please, I won’t try anything! Let me help him!”

The Yeti’s growled at one another, purposefully speaking so they couldn’t understand. He could tell that they were amused. He was too stricken to be mad. 

“Please!” He begged. He didn’t know if he was shaking from the cold anymore. “Please, he’ll die! Please!”  

The Yeti near the door smirked and waved invitingly.

The other Yeti let him pass, snickering when a gust of wind knocked him over as soon as he exited. He got right back to his feet, stumbling to get to him. He turned him over, patting his face rapidly, not caring if it stung as long as Donnie reacted.

He did, coughing snow and spit onto Leo’s plastron, and Leo could have cried.

“Ohmmmost ‘heer.” His eyes open, glaze and lost. “Mm-most…” 

He dragged him back inside, talking to him the entire way. He took him as close to the fire as they could safely be and none of the Yeti bothered to stop him, chuckling amongst themselves as he cradled his taller brother.

Green skin was tainted with painful streaks of muddy brown, but Leo could feel him breathing. 

He could feel him breathing. 

“Donnie,” He pleads as his eyes go half-lidded, “Donnie, Donnie, stay awake for me. Donnie.”

“Doh-nne dohne d’nn,” Donnie hadn’t been shivering before, but he suddenly starts now, violently shaking and tucking himself against Leo. “nnnnn…”

“Yeah,” Leo’s voice breaks. “You’re done. You did it.”

“Didddnn,” Donnie puts up a swaying fist, “mmmyesssss.”

Leo gently pulls down his hand, taking frozen fingers in his own.

His little brother's teeth and bones clatter in the cold.

Around them, the Yetis snicker.

Chapter Text

Hopelessness / Pliers / Bargaining

The pliers slip from shaky hands.

One of the Footbots pounces on him immediately, kicking him down when he reaches for them.

He throws his hands up from the floor, terror lurching to his throat as the Footbot grabs his sheath belt to hoist him into the air. His world swims, steadying to reveal Bebop’s grin as he leans against the worktable. “Trying to get away with something, are we?”

“No!” He gasps. “I w-as working- I-I just dropped-”

“You were told not to move.” He tsks as he strolls over to pick it up. “You really telling me that the tech genius doesn’t know how to hold a snippy thing?”

“Pliers,” He can’t help the correction. Years of it have the habit ingrained in his social cues. He knows he made a mistake when the mutant’s eyes narrow. Then the pliers are hitting his plastron, knocking against his scrapped knee and clanging to the floor. 

“Think you’re so smart?” He snaps. “Think that makes you better than mwah?”

“No, no-” He pleads. “I was just- they’re pliers, I wa’only-”

Bebop snaps his fingers and the Footbot slams his head into the desk. It lets go so he can tumble to the floor, gasping as his world tries to reorient, blurred and fiery and sticky. His hand touches the side of his head, tremors smearing the blood. He whines at the sensation, looking up to the warthog leering over him with hands on his hips. 

“Told you I’d give you worse than a black eye if you mess with me. Mmm, mmm, mmm, you turtles are always trying your luck.”

“Pl-ease,” His voice cracks. “I’m just, I’m tired. I hhhav’n’t slep-” 

“Does that sound like my problem? It’s my turn to get goodies and I’m not gonna have you napping ‘stead of working.”

“A fe-hew minutes, I’ll be better, faster- I-”

“Shut uuup, dawg. Save it for someone who cares.”

“I cah-I can’t, please-” 

“I want. My. Stuff!” He grabs Donnie, lurching him to his feet and throwing him into the desk. “And you’re gonna give it to me or Imma use these on one of those fat, freaky fingers.”

He tosses the pliers down on the table. They barely miss his hands.

“Get to work, brain boy.” He grins. “And get your act together. Rocky isn’t as nice as me.” 

Donnie forces himself to stand, waiting for the triple pliers to become one.

Satisfied with his intimation, Bebop goes back to his chair and phone. 

The rigid Footbots return to their placement, noting his every movement. 

Hot liquid inching down his skull, Donnie resumes his work.

Chapter Text

Explosion / Crush Injury / Trap

Donnie watches Leo hit the wall.

He watches a lot of things happen in a span of seconds. He watches the laser blast hit the console. He watches the console explode. He watches the room get spattered in metal and smoke and hot flame that left with the pieces. 

He didn’t watch Leo try to get out of the way.

He did watch the explosion take him to the other wall. 

“LEO!” 

He registers Mikey’s voice nearby and Raph’s voice farther away.

He doesn’t look at them. One thing at a time.

He doesn’t know if he cried out with them, too focused on knocking out the Kraang that stood between him and his brother. A piece of metal had joined Leo in his flight, smashing down on his hand when they hit the wall. He was struggling to remove it, but it wasn’t budging.

“Leo,” He snaps as soon as he reaches his side. “Leo, stop moving.”

Leo completely ignores him, carapace arched in the way that only their brand of mutant can accomplish. Donnie grabs his wrist to stop him from blindly pushing, keeping his expression disapproving when terrified eyes look at him. “Donnie- Donnie, it’s-”

“Stop talking,” Donnie sets his attention to the metal because if Leo keeps freaking out then he’s going to lose it too. “Close your eyes. Focus on your breathing. I’ve got this.”

He can’t worry about anything but the wound. One thing at a time.

“But-”

“Leonardo.”

He steels his voice in a mimic of their father's. His older brother turns his head away. After a few minutes, he can hear him taking shaky, chopped breaths. His eyes probably aren’t close. Donnie will count his miracles. 

He runs his hand over the block, cutting his fingers along the graspable edges. It’s charred and still hot, but he locks his hands over it and drags it off of his older brother. Leo cries out and distracts him from the pain slicing into his palms. He throws it, letting the wrapping soak up the brunt of the sticky damage as he kneels to check on the state of his brother’s hand.

It’s broken. It’s way broken. How’s he-

Not the time. Donnie narrows his eyes. Not the time.

There’s plenty of time to worry about a fix later.

He needs to focus on now. 

Leo’s not looking his way anymore. He’s breathing heavily, almost hyperventilating, whimpers shoving out of between gritted teeth. He must have looked.

Donnie needs to get him home, give him something for the pain.

One thing at a time.

Leo tenses and Donnie’s hand goes for his weapon- Raph roars.

Donnie doesn’t need to look to know that his brother just tackled whatever tried to sneak up behind them.

The crash makes it sound big. Maybe one of the gorilla bots.

He trusts him to handle it.

“Leo.”

His older brother doesn’t look at him. He’s forced-breathing again, so he’s listening. 

“I’m going to stabilize your hand with the wraps. You cannot, under any circumstance, move it. Not unless you want any of these broken bones to go stabbing through your skin.”

His older brother shudders. Donnie holds his arm, keeping the hand still. 

He starts wrapping. He starts wrapping even though there are more important matters to take care of, even though the room has been locked down by metal doors and they’re being surrounded. He keeps his attention on Leo when Mikey and Raph begin to realize exactly what he did when the explosion went off and the alarms started blaring.

“Okay,” He breathes even though it’s not. “Okay.”

Some of his blood is on Leo’s hand. Mikey is calling his name.

Leo’s face is wet. He’s in intense pain and there’s nothing Donnie can do about it.

Donnie will finish wrapping his hand. Then he’ll get them out.

“Donnie,” Leo blinks against the pained haze. “Your hands.”

Donnie shakes his head. He can’t think about that now.

One thing at a time.

Chapter Text

Concussion / Mugged / Drugged

Donnie has prevented many human muggings in her lifetime.

An alien mugging was a first, but she supposed that she should get used to them since they’re living in space now.

She’s not complaining about the ability to walk around the universe without someone screaming at her or to go into a store and have the clerk offer a smile.

It was nice. So even though she wanted to go tech scouting, she let Mikey drag her into a cute little shop to browse what they had. She tried on the hats that he insisted on, pretending to care about all but one dress- which, honestly, she could pull it off with a shell? Marvelous-  and experimented with make-up on his face because she wasn’t about to put anything on her face if she didn’t know the names of half the chemical contents.

But the idea of being her guinea pig had him beaming so she messed around until they were threatened by the storekeeper to actually make a purchase. 

Leo had purposefully refused to give them a lot of spending money because Mikey was known to spend every cent in any store and Donnie couldn’t resist shiny things of the tech variety, so Mikey grabbed a random scarf off the shelf to pay with what they had and they scampered out with their tail between their legs, unable to stop laughing.

The scarf was all kinds of ugly. The only positive was that it had purple streaks, but those were mixed with a number of other colors, along with far too many sequins and floating hearts.

“Donaaa! Dona, Dona, Dee please! Please!”

“No way!”

“Pleasepleasepleasepleaseeee!!” 

She absolutely hated it but he made her put on anyway, gasping and crooning about how pretty she was. She was determined to ditch it before they could get back to the ship because she’d rather die than let their older brothers see her in that atrocity. Thankfully, it was getting dark enough that if she chucked it at the last second Mikey wouldn’t be able to see where until she was safely on board and scarf-free.

She had to admit that she was having fun though, which was why she let herself get dragged out there in the first place.

Their smiles only faded when they saw the women being harassed in the alley, however. 

All it took was one look for them to come to a decision. And then they were one with the shadows, popping out to take out the two guys in the back.

The woman was thrown to the ground so the man could open the cute bag. Donnie had seen a few in the store.

She swooped in to grab it and that was Mikey’s cue. When they shouted, he shrieked in Mikey-fashion, jumping the three in front to give Donnie time to get her safely away.

The blue and black skinned woman took off without so much of a thank you, bag clutched to her chest, but Donnie was used to such reactions by now.

She turned to get back into the fray just as one of the aliens snuck up behind her brother and pulled a thick object from their belt to smack Mikey right over the head with it. 

He crumbled on the spot and all she could see was red.

“Hey, you!” She returned the favor, swooping in to smack him in the face so hard that if he had teeth, they were likely in a pile in his throat. “Back off!”

She dropped next to her little brother, checking his head for fractures. “Aww, Leo’s going to kill me…” 

Mikey groans and she shushes him. “It’s cool, Mike. You're good.”

She finds the bruise but nothing feels broken. She picks up her staff, trying to remember how the professor taught her to alert the ship of an emergency. Relieved at seeing his friendly, robotic face, she hits the red button. 

“Okay, we need to get out of here.”

She grabs his arm, ready to lift him and get moving because there was a limited amount of time before their older brothers would go from panicking on the ship to tearing apart the marketplace to figure out where they were hiding.

She senses the movement too late. An arm crosses around her throat, digging the sequins of the stupid scarf into her throat and forcing her to release him. She’s dragged away from his body and heat sears her chest. She goes to throw her captor off but her legs are kicked out from under her and she’s abruptly released. 

Something pricks her arm and she goes to tear it out. Her wrist is grabbed, a smirking figure staring down at her just before her world starts blurring around the edges. With a seething glare, she rips free and kicks out to catch him in the chest, tossing him into the wall. She gets up but the world sways, causing her to stumble awkwardly.

Then she’s on the ground, chest pressed into the pavement, and a high voice is whining, “Oh, come on. You wasted it.”

“No way! I like this one."

"Why?"

"Fiery.”

"Ugh."

"What do ya think, girly?" She winces when a sudden weight drops down on her, feminine voice cooing near her ear. “Wanna come home with us?”

Donnie struggles to get up, but she’s having trouble feeling her limbs.

A hand runs down her arm. “I think she doooes.”

Her heart is pounding, nausea crawling to her throat. The unwelcomed touch stays against her skin and she can feel her body shaking because she’s stuck and vulnerable and Mikey is right there and he’s hurt. They’ll take her and leave him and he needs help.

“She’s shelled, Carla. They sell like garbage."

“Not if you know the right people.” A deep voice, a hand on her face, squeezing painfully on her cheeks and jawbone. She wants to get it off. She needs everyone to stop touching her. “I think I could make do.”

“Awesome. You’re the douni ever.”

"Everything's business with you guys."

"Oh, please, we'll let you have fun."

“Hey! What about that guy?”

One of them kicks Mikey. She hisses, tongue too heavy for words.

“Leave him. Think I broke him.” 

“Oops!”

Loud laughter; the weight leaves her carapace. 

Her vision is spotting. She can’t move. She can’t breathe. 

She’s lifted off the ground.

Someone shouts.

Her vision goes black.

Chapter Text

Injection / Hammer / Hunted

This was not how Fugitoid saw this going.

He knew the plan was risky, sure, but really, what plans aren’t?

That’s what made an adventure fun. That’s what made the game worth playing.

Even if it did lead him on his knees in front of a dangerous, bloodlusting warlord, he had no blood to shed and they would not dare snuff out the mind that could give them what they wanted. Not that he would serve them. Not again.

If he could glare, he would be, a displeased sound triggered at the sight of the massive Triceraton. He didn’t even bother to turn around, dramatic and smug as he is, opening his arms as if they were old friends. “Professor Honeycut, welcome.”

He didn’t feel very welcome. He would have snipped as much, but his attention was caught on the four fighters down in the area. He did not have a heartbeat, but his mind was doing all the racing for it. Oh dear oh dear oh dear.

“Witness the destruction of your turtle friends.” 

One of the turtles points to him. He’s surprised that they can see him when he’s this far up, but he supposed his stark white contracts against the Tri-Arena’s browns and greys. He can only partly make out the brothers, their strides strong and their weapons on hand.

At least they allowed them their weapons. They didn’t always do that.

Leonardo points to him. He thinks- he can see the blue? He can’t know for sure.

He feels the shame like heat in his hardware.

They might all be in similar situations, being captured and all, but he is the grown up and they are the children. They should be able to count on him to get them out of this mess. 

He glances at Zanmoran and then back at them. He can still be of use. He can still get them out. Maybe when this match is over, he can find a way to get them all out of this. 

Outlines appear in his vision, plans written out and crossed off in the span of seconds. He needs to use this time to his advantage. The announcer is speaking and the crowd is screaming, but he doesn't spare a moment. The brothers are fighters. They will handle the…

A roar echoes through the area. He blinks back to see what monster the brothers will handle, and realizes that it’s worse than that. Very few who have faced the Triceratons have not heard of Zeno. They have not been there long. How is time to face the greatest?

They must not intend on keeping them around.

They are not warriors; they are the sacrificial lambs. Fresh meat only used to entertain the cheering crowd. 

This is not good. This is so not good. 

Donnie was starting to worry Leo.

Everything about this situation was worrying Leo, but he knew they could handle it as long as they stayed on their A-game. Raph was angry but focused, Mikey was jittery but active, and Donnie was so in his head that he never acted unless he was ordered too.

Leo did not need this. Leo needed him to spit out every idea in his brain so he could shoot them down until they found the perfect escape plan. Leo needed him to pace the floor until it was annoying or state facts that aren’t helpful now but might be in the long run.

Donnie curled up unless he was prodded. He gave up before their escape plan began. 

At least he managed to lock in, take out the Spazzmasore before anyone could get seriously hurt. But even that was just because Zeno told them too, and because he was a few feet away from getting eaten. He knows- he knows this is not the time to pick fights with his brothers.

As a good leader, he should wait, talk it out later, but Donnie almost got eaten.

There was too much going on, too much that Donnie didn’t know, and his brother was going to get himself killed if he didn’t snap out of his funk. 

Then Zeno walks in, massive and impressive, and the one thing that they did know- they had a friend in this crazy, messed up arena- became just another uncertainty, another threat.

Leo peeks back at Donnie, sees the way his stance loosens, his head rises as he processes the loss- and knows that he’ll need to find an edge if they are going to survive this. To confirm his panic, Zeno roars loud enough to throw them off balance and insight the crowd.

Mikey tries to reason with him and Leo lets him, ready to fight but more than willing to stand down if they could avoid the battle. Then he tries to slam their little brother with the hammer and he loses any chance of the oldest brother’s forgiveness. They pull out their weapons, letting the ringing in their ears settle. Leo can sense Donnie on the ground beside him, locked up and staring at the sky like it’s about to come crashing down.

Then he moves, and Leo lets out his breath, and Raph yells, and the hammer swings.

And Leo doesn’t even think about it.

He jumps out of the way, expecting all of his brothers to do the same. It was a wild swing, easy to avoid with the right speed and precision. Mikey and Raph get out of the way.

Donnie takes the full force, and Leo hears a horrifying crack.

Nobody makes a sound, not them, not their brother, not even the crowd reacts when he flies. 

Then he hits the ground, and he doesn’t move, and the crowd goes wild. Leo finds himself screaming too, not with the euphoria of the onlookers, but the horror that’s drenched his soul in a biting, icy film. He can’t go to him because Zeno’s hammer is still flying, trying to take out the next brother who lets his guard down. 

They all get their turn to be flung around like dolls, unable to get a second to think before they are greeted with a new flavor of pain. Someone in the crowd screams, and Zeno throws them into the wall, letting them land on top of each other. He starts ambling away.

Leo doesn't understand why until the pulse in his brain calms enough that he can hear a giddy crowd chanting, “Finish him! Finish him! Finish him!” 

“Donnie!” He gasps, triggering their brothers to shake their haze away and train their attention on the distance. When Leo gets up to run, they frantically follow their leader.

Zeno takes his sweet time. They get there ahead of him. Donnie’s half present, lost and confused with a massive, painful line up his plastron, and Leo chooses to be glad to see him awake. Leo and Mikey stop in front and Raph drops his body over him, readying to take whatever damage comes their way. Donnie squeezes his eyes shut and whines.

Zeno stops in front of them, raising his hammer.

Leo has his blades ready but Mikey’s hands are waving. Leo doesn’t know what he’s doing, but his brothers have the right idea. He’s too big, too fast, too experienced. They can’t stop him with force. They need another approach. So Leo’s willing to follow their lead on this one.

 “Wait, Zeno, we’re friends!” 

Professor Honeycutt is closer to the edge than he should be.

He’d moved as soon as Donatello hit the ground, begging for the boy to get back up to his feet. The chaos reigns and he doesn’t move, and then the crowd forgets about him for a short while, too short a while. Someone points him back out, starts a chant that quickly spreads.

Zeno approaches the child. The general snags his arm and does not release. 

Then all of the boys are in the way, protecting their fallen despite having no feasible way of staying alive themselves. Emperor Zanmoran chuckles behind him, “There is a way to make this stop.”

Honeycutt won’t look at him. He’s watching the boys drop their weapons.

Emperor Zanmoran scrambles to his feet, irate, “Do it Zeno! Finish the aliens and you have earned your freedom!” 

Zeno throws the hammer.

But not at the turtles.

The arena falls still when Raph holds a blaster to the Emperor's head.

Fugitoid can’t help but be impressed with their cunning, brazen and smug despite everything that they had just gone through. He peeks over the edge to where Donatello is still on the ground, leaning heavily on the warrior who had tried to take his life moments ago.

“Let the Fuitoid go,” Honeycutt looks up, startled. “And we walk out of here.”

The general relents and he bursts to their side, “My friends, I was just formulating a most excellent rescue plan buuuut!” He looks down to where all the Triceratons stand, where Donatello has landed on his knees with a hand to his chest. “Since you have given us an opening, allow me to finish it off!”

He goes to Donatello’s side. The brothers look at one another.

Raph grins, digging the gun into his neck, “Jump, dino, jump.” 

They make it to the halls.

Mikey runs alongside Zeno, keeping a close eye on Donnie. His breaths have started coming out in little gasps and the long crack is spilling the tiniest stream of red. The big guy is holding him because they need to move fast and he could barely lift his arms to hack the hover machine. With his chest… not the way his chest should be, there’s no way they can carry him like this, not unless they were really, really massive. Like a dinosaur.

Mikey’s glad Zeno changed his mind. He’s super, super glad.

“I will stop in here,” Fugitoid says suddenly. “I need Donatello.”

“Stop? Professor-”

“This is an arena guard med bay!” He calls as he runs in. “Few places better stocked than this!”

“We don’t have time-”

“Leo,” Mikey wrings his hands. “Just for a minute?”

Leo gives him an exasperated look before his gaze shifts to Donnie. Then it melts away as he sees what Mikey sees. Mikey whispers, “He’s in pain.”

The Emperor grunts and Raph growls at him. Leo nods, “Just a few minutes.”

Zeno goes in after the professor. No one asks Mikey to go in so he stands close to the door, looking after their two friends and his brother. Fugitoid is fussing over the cabinets, shoving things in a bag. Zeno’s gravely voice cuts in, “He is right. There is no time for this.”

“You get no say,” He snaps. “Beat up a child. Just like a Triceraton.”

“I am a warrior,” Zeno speaks slow. “As are they.”

“They are children.” Fugitoid spins to face him. “Adolences fighting to save their world. And you were ready to tear off their limbs. Have you no shame?”

Zeno doesn’t say anything. Mikey shifts uncomfortably, not entirely certain what there was to fight about. Sure, they’re kids, but kids with mad skills! They beat up tons of adults all the time!

They just couldn’t beat this one.

Leo’s yelling for the approaching rescue team to stay back. Fugitoid is wiping down Donnie’s arm, putting something in it. Donnie’s eyes fly open. A hiss escapes as he squirms to get away. 

Mikey bursts into the room.

He hurries to his side and startles both adults, taking his free hand and squeezing it. “It’s all good, Dee. It’s all good. Fugi’s helping.”

Donnie stares at him with glassy eyes, squeezing back as the liquid goes in.

After a moment, he goes limp, a brief, grateful churr running through his system.

Mikey smiles and pats his hand before he quiets again. Fugitoid and Zeno follow him out as he bursts triumphantly into the hall. “All good!”

Leo looks at Fugitoid and he nods enthusiastically.

He relaxes, just a smidge. “Then lead the way.”

Raph wasn’t normally one to weep over a plan gone awry, but when his brother gets slammed by alien metal made by the jerkiest jerks to ever walk the known universe, he tends to make it his priority to get everyone out alive first and punch everyone responsible if he has the time. 

The plan was to find April and Casey. The plan was not to collide with April, Casey, and the giant bubble of Black Hole Generator piece. 

When Donnie hits the floor, Raph doesn't even think twice about getting to him. He’d already lost his weapon and the Emperor had put distance. They weren’t gonna get the jump on the guy again, not this soon. He flips his little brother over, scanning his face.

He stares up at Raph, reaching out a hand with a dazed little chirp, unbothered by the shouting behind them. He takes it and tries not to think about the weak grip.

Whatever he's on is definitely strong. And probably dosed for a Triceraton. Eugh, boy.

Raph scoops his arm around his shoulder. He stands them up. Leo shouts for them all to move, and Zeno decides now is a good time to play the hero. Mikey tries to argue with him, but he’s already roaring and Leo is grabbing their little brother’s arm like he didn’t notice him trying to follow- he noticed, they both knew he would-

He catches his eyes. They’re hard. Leo tugs Mikey in the opposite direction.

Together, they all take off down the hall.

“Hold your breath, guys!”

“You have got to be kidding me-”

April slams the button and Raph slaps a hand over Donnie’s mouth in case he missed the memo. He chooses to trust this insane, completely insane friend of theirs to not kill them.

And then they’re out in space. And then they’re rolling into the stealth ship.

Mikey runs up the window and Leo drops by Donnie’s side with him and their friends' eyes widen when they see his plastron and Fugitoid’s eyes glow a bright orange.

Raph braces his brother as the ship takes off.

“Do you think you can help him, professor?”

Leonardo is pacing next to his brother, letting April sit at the top of the bed. Raphael is leaning broodily on the other cot across from them, their youngest brother swinging his feet nervously. 

“Oh, I have no way of knowing,” He admits quickly. “But I certainly think I can try.”

This answer doesn’t seem to satisfy him. He goes over to his brother, taking his hand.

Donatello admits a rumbling sound at the contact that has all of the turtles in the room melting. April doesn’t say anything, gentle hand still on his forehead. Casey Jones stops messing with his equipment to glance over in his direction, frown pulling his mouth tight.

“But he’s not in any pain,” Leonardo looks tired, his hand grasping his brother’s. “Right?”

They all look tired. Every single one of them upright because of the adrenaline in their systems.

Even when they deserve to celebrate, they are being reminded of the price of winning.

Fugitoid cannot fix his past, but he can prevent it from taking more lives.

“Yes,” He assures them all, “He is not in any pain.” 

Chapter Text

Buried Alive / CPR / Flashback

He was right.

He was right he was right he was right he was right-

“That is a terrible idea.”

“You’re a terrible idea.”

“I’m not a concept. I’m a reality. And if you follow through with this concept, your reality is going to include an ambush or a trap.” 

“She wouldn’t do that to me.”

“You don’t know that she left this.”

“I came here for a decryption, not your permission.”

“You’re seriously doing this?”

“You promised not to tell Sensei.”

“I won’t tell him, but if I might be in trouble by association then I might as well earn it.”

For once in his life, couldn’t he be wrong? 

The chunks of roof tests his strength as he drags it upright, uncovering the little brother that had thought to save Leo before himself. He should have reacted faster, pulled him behind the train car with him. He should have recognized the bomb when Donnie did, put it down when he told him too, obeyed when he said to move. 

Something in the air gets in his lungs when he throws it and he doubles over to hack them up, spitting any gunk out of his throat. It doesn’t feel better, just leaves it sore and dry, but he can’t waste time on that. He turns to the brother that had taken the blunt of fallen roof, dropping to his knees and brushing the debris off his plastron. 

“Donnie,” He pleads hoarsely, “Donnie- Donnie, wake up. Wake up- wakeupwakeup- ”

He coughs, shaking his head, inhaling.

He puts a hand on his little brother’s throat, finding a pulse that’s pounding as hard as Leo’s is. He puts a hand next to his mouth and then his cheek- no air he’s not breathing- and scrambles to remember what Donnie told them about CPR.

Hands on chest- interlocked fingers- thirty compressions two breaths- thirty two thirty two- please be right please be right-

“We’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive-” He doesn’t know how long he’s supposed to do this. He doesn’t know what else to do. “Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin’ alive- c’mon Donnie, stay with me-” 

He leans over and they touch lips and Donnie’s entire body jerks. Leo throws himself away because that’s not a position that anybody wants them to be in or either of them want Donnie to wake up to, hovering as he gasps.

“You’re okay, you’re okay-” Leo keeps him on his carapace when he tries to move. “You stopped- you stopped breathing for a second s-so you need to take a minute.”

Donnie does, wheezy and loud, coughing when more than oxygen comes with the air.

Leo looks around them, scanning the chaos. He’s glad there are no Footbots checking in to see if the job is completed. He doubts that they would have waited around to see if the CPR worked. They should still leave the area sooner than later. 

“That…” Leo's attention locks on his brother. Donnie exhales heavily. 

He nods, encouraging, “Yeah?”

“That sssong wwas for Myhkey.” He shakes his head. “Can’t b-believe you used…” 

He coughs, shoulders ticking as he shoots him an exasperated look.

“Shut up,” He bats at his eyes, dust making them water. “We’re gonna move.”

“Haf-have too?”

“We have to put some distance between ourselves and this area.”

Donnie shifts, winces, and then puts a hand on the side of his plastron.

“Th-think somethin’s brok-broken.” 

He falls back and closes his eyes, brow knit in pain. 

Guilt clears the leader to make room for the brother.

“Right.” He acknowledges quietly. “Duh.”

Donnie opens his eyes, glancing at him.

Leo pulls out his t-phone.

“I’m calling the guys.”

Chapter Text

Cold Sweat / Begging / Experiment

They wake up when Mikey screams.

It’s the kind of scream that says something bad happened- that if they weren’t at his side now then he might not have a side to come back too. They all knew where he was and they all knew that there was a slim, slim chance that he was in any real danger while tucked into his bed, but that didn’t stop them from charging through the lair and shouldering open his locked bedroom door in an effort to check.

They spilled into the room, disheveled from the couch, bed, and lab table that they’d passed out on. None of them was fully awake but they quickly realized that they didn’t need to be.

Mikey was still screaming, sweaty and pale and kicking his covers into a pile when they come barging in. “NONO- PLEASE-”

“Mikey!” Raph interrupts, incapable of not interrupting, even when their baby brother is in a half-crazed panic and looking at him like he’d swallowed Icecream Kitty whole. “Calm down!”

Mikey throws his pillow. Raph’s hands doesn't come up in time to keep it from hitting him dead in the face. Donnie watches with wide eyes and Leo side-steps him to circle around to Mikey, hands up in a pacifying gesture. “Woah, woah, woah, hey- it’s cool. It’s fine. It’s just us so no more throwing pillows, okay?”

Mikey does not throw a pillow. He throws a teddy bear.

And as Leo blankly lets it drop to the floor, he quickly snatches the comforter pile and drags the blanket over himself to hyperventilate under it. Donnie crawls up on his other side, putting an arm around the back of his burrito brother and tugging him to his plastron. Mikey curls up small, staying under the blanket as his hyperventilating shifts into hitched crying.

“There we go,” Donnie mutters, rubbing the fabric over his upper arm. “That’s it. That’s it. Just remember to breathe.”

He places his chin against his shoulder, looking up worriedly between his older brothers. 

Leo picks the bear off the floor and lifts the blanket so he can slip it underneath. After a moment, he pulls his hand back and sits on the side of the bed, nodding for Raph to come and join them. After a glance at the door, he gives in, walking to the bottom of the bed and stretching out, carapace steady against the wall. 

They stay with Mikey until his crying quiets. Then, when big sniffles start slowing, Leo taps a piece of the ball. “Mikey. Can we talk?"

“No,” Mikey whines like the six-year-old that he mentally is. “Go away.”

A pause, “But not Donnie.”

Both older brothers look at Donnie. He shrugs awkwardly.

“Why not Donnie?” Raph demands, determined not to sound like he’s taking it personally. Leo schools the face that Mikey can’t see to make sure only disinterest shines through.

Donnie rolls his eyes at the both of them. Mikey shifts and then humfs, “I’m mad at you. And Leo’s plan was stupid. ” 

“What did I do?!” 

“My plan was what?!”

Donnie pulls his arm back as Mikey shoots up, throwing the blanket back on him. He pulls it down as he glares at their older brothers, snapping, “You heard me! You stole that turtle's pet and then you left me behind! It’s both your faults!" 

And with that, he grabs his blanket and throws himself at Donnie’s plastron. The brainy brother hugs him out of impulse, returning to the deer-in-headlights look, not entirely certain which side of this argument he’d rather be on. With the youngest brother huddled against him and their older brothers glaring him down, it didn’t seem like he had much of a choice. 

“What was their faults, Mikey?” Harder glares, but he only looks at the blanket. “The nightmare?”

“Duh! What else?!”

“Ohhhkay, well.” Donnie hesitates. “Wanna tell us what it was about?”

A long silence, uncharacteristic for the turtle who took every opportunity to tell them about what went on in his brain. Finally, an uncertain, “...No.” 

The glares melt away. Donnie rubs his arm, “Might make you feel better.”

“Nothing could make me feel better.”

“Pizza would make you feel better.” Raph points out dryly, but Mikey’s quick to snap, “Nu-uh! Pizza's made by humans. Humans are dumb.”

“Humans are not-”

Once again, Donnie’s vision is consumed by blanket as Mikey whirls to face Leo. “Yes, they are! They strap you to tables and shove stuff in your mouth and try to cut you up and stab your brains even though you keep telling them that you’re the good guy and not a martian !” Glassy eyes stinging, he adds with finality, “Humans. Are. Dumb!”

His brothers stare at him, one of them with his blanket in hand. Unable to hide, he sinks against the bed with his arms crossed, voice dropping, “They don’t even know a handsome turtle when they see one...” 

He wipes at his eyes. Leo says, “When Bishop said the general was harassing you guys, I didn’t think… Did they- did they really-”

“Told him not to say anything.” Mikey grumbles. “‘’knew you guys would get weird about it.”

“Weird?!” Raph snaps, nails and fists crushing the pillow. “I’m going to kill them!” 

“It was a few hours!” Donnie gasps, somewhere between anger and horror. “Did they even try interrogation?! Of course not- of course they went right to experimentation-”

“I can’t believe they would actually do that. Sure, they were trigger-happy, but Bishop told them about us how could they-”

“UGH!” Mikey throws out his arms. “SEE!”

With that proclamation, he throws himself back at Donnie to tear free the blanket to burrow, and snaps, “You guys are being WEIRD!”

Another brief silence before a clipped, muffled, “Donnie.”

Donnie puts an arm over him. Raph accuses, “Aren’t you mad at him too, now?”

“I’m out of brothers to give me hugs.” Mikey says indignantly. “And I need a hug.”

“For the record,” Leo puts in. “I think those were some pretty normal reactions to what we just heard.” No response. “Didn’t you just tell us that they held you down and tried to cut you up?”

“...With a chain saw.” He mutters reluctantly. “A big one. And then tried to stick a needle in my brain, way bigger than April’s I bet-”

“And I’m not allowed to want to kill them?!” Raph demands, high-strung but unwilling to leave the conversation to release the pent-up anger. “Why?!”

“Because!” They wait for a follow-up. It takes a moment before Mikey admits, “Because we’re the freaky turtle guys. And we snuck in.”

“That doesn’t give them a right to cut you up.” Donnie insists furiously. “Humans are more humane to the mice and raccoons they find in their basements!”

“Or robbers.” Leo points out. “They stick ‘em in a room and yell at them. They don’t strap them down and stab a needle into their brains.” 

“It was messed-up Mikey.” Raph growls. “We’re allowed to be weird about it.” 

“And angry.” Leo puts in, followed by Donnie’s helpful, “And slightly murderous.”

“I am going to kill all of them.” 

“I don’t want anyone to die.” Mikey whines. “I just want humans to stop being so dumb .” 

“Good luck with that." Raph hands the pillow off to Leo and the leader sets it at the top of his bed. He stares at it and then says, “...Mikey.”

Mikey sniffs under his covers.

“Are you still mad at us?”

“...Not Donnie.”

Donnie smirks and Raph gives him a dirty look.

“How about we make things up to you.” Leo peels back the blanket to smile down at his tear-streaked face. “Turtle pile tonight?”

Mikey bounces up, wrapping his arms around his older brother’s neck. “Yes!” 

Leo returns the hug. Donnie sits up.

Raph sighs, “Yeah, alright.” 

“And Raph has to carry me there.”

“There is no way I’m-”

“I’m tired!”

“C’moon.”

“Just do it.”

“For the love of shells-”

Chapter Text

Locked Door / Carry / Lost

Donnie doesn’t know where he is. 

There’s a tool against his skin, cold and metal to the touch, and he chucks in a wild attempt to get it out of his hands. There’s no one around him. Why is there no one around? He’s glad there’s nobody there- nobody nearby or they would have seen him, would have stopped him or yelled at him or hurt him for even daring to consider-

“What are you doing over there?!”

It hits the ground and he screams.

The combination of sounds drives him to action. If the tool didn’t end up attracting anyone, his terror would. That’s going to get him caught. If no one is here now then someone is sure to come after, so he blindly scrambles to find any opening, anywhere to run, anywhere that he can go to hide until they get bored of the search, until he’s dragged out by someone who doesn’t know what he did.

He spots the metal door. As he spots it, he slams into it in an attempt to stay upright on jelly legs.

It doesn’t open.

Of course it doesn’t open. Idiot, idiot, how stupid could he be to think it would?

“Aren’t you supposed to be a genius?!”

There’s an opening. Massive, large, like a wall is supposed to be there but it’s not.

He runs through, just as the door opens, as a voice calls after him.

He doesn’t know how he manages to stay on two legs and he doesn’t know where to go but he needs to get away. So he runs. He gets as far as he can without looking back because if he slows down for even a moment then- then he’ll-

Then he’ll be found- caught.

He’ll have to go back- He can’t go back- he’s tired.  

“Look at that! Can’t even tighten a screw! Pathetic.”  

Frigid, slimy water clings to his feet. Every inhale scraps at his throat and lungs.

He trips, tumbling against the wall with a weak cry.

He stays where he is, breathing and whining and taking this second of reprieve- he’s tired. He’s so, so tired. Just a few minutes, he needs a few minutes, he’ll be- he just- he-

Something touches him.

He screams, flying into consciousness, falling to the ground.

His hands are on his head, protecting his head, please not his head not his head not his head-

No one’s touching him

No one hitting him or smacking him or kicking him or yelling at him.

He gasps and keens and cries and waits.

He waits, and nothing happens.

He breathes until the terror stabbing into his gut relents enough for him to open his eyes. Still nobody hits him, so he looks up, risking it all to get a peek.

Mikey stares back at him, crouching on all fours next to him, forehead pressed against the ground.

“Hey,” He says gently as Donnie trembles through more tears. “You tired?”

Donnie sobs, nodding desperately. He’s so tired, so tired, please, don’t make him get up he can’t get up he can’t he can’t- 

So Mikey gets up and Donnie’s heart stops because he’s bigger and stronger and angrier and louder and he’s going to hurt Donnie unless he works- move move move move- LET GO-

Mikey pulls him up. Donnie doesn’t fight him because fighting makes it worse. 

Mikey scoots ‘till his carapace is against the wall and maneuvers him against his chest. Donnie doesn’t fight him, waiting for the instruction, for the project, for the pain, but his brother's arms are wrapped fully around him. He’s restricted, trapped, he can’t possibly work this way. 

“I ca- I can’t-”

“Shh,” Mikey rubs his carapace. “We’re staying here. Right here, bro. We don't gotta do anything.”

Donnie doesn’t know what that would accomplish, but if that’s what they’re doing then- then-

He doesn’t know. He wants to go home.

Donnie almost tells him that, but he keeps it to himself, curling tight since he doesn’t have to stand. His vision is fuzzy around the edges, breaths hitching in short, panting bursts.

Mikey’s saying something in a calm voice. Donnie can feel the rumble of it.

The voice continues and his world hazes as his eyes close, struggling not to nod off but they’re only sitting there so what if he- couldn’t he for a minute-

Donnie stirs in and out of reality.

He can’t be caught off guard. He needs to be ready.

“...ed…nd lab…ow why…eak…oking…”

His head hurts. His body is shaking.

“..s alri...” 

“..ure, sens…”

He’s being released. He has to get up.

Donnie tears himself away, faster than the arms are ready for, faster than his legs are ready for.

He tilts and falls, grabbed before he hits the ground and taken off his feet. 

“No-nohho- ” 

“It is alright.” Donnie takes a shaky breath. “Rest, my son. You need it.”

He needs it. He needs it, needs it, wants it.

“Pahh-pa,” He shivers, “‘mmm.”

“Sleep,” His father coaxes, “I will wake you when you’re needed.”

Oh.

“But-”

Okay.

Donnie stops listening.

Chapter Text

Sprain / Amputation / Electrocution

“Where do you keep going?” 

Donnie huddles down in his corner, looking warily at the human who leers over him. He tears the shock box out of his lab coat as he stomps up to him, ignoring the guards that are exiting the room altogether. 

“You said you have nowhere to go. You said there’s no one for you to escape too.” Donnie’s vision goes spotted, throwing his head against the wall as fire travels from his throat and down his body in a cascade. He gasps for air when it stops, looking up at the human who’s bent down. “So where are you going?”

“N-nowhere- nowhere, I-I-” 

A harsh sting spikes up his ankle when he shifts and the pain interrupts the frantic lie. The human’s head tilts curiously, crouching in front of him. Donnie could knock him out in that position, but he wouldn’t get far out those doors. The facility is already on alert. It would only make things worse. 

The human touches his skin and a soft whine admits when pain snakes up with it. The human eyes him, increasing the pressure. Donnie arches his back, every muscle taunt in his effort not to pull away and earn something worse. The human finally releases. 

“Don’t feel broken. Just sprained.”

Donnie doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, barely dares breathe. 

“If there’s nothing waiting for you out there,” He continues icely. “Then why do you keep trying to leave.”

Donnie isn’t sure if that’s rhetorical.

The human holds up the shock box and panic sets loose in Donnie’s brain like fireworks. “I-I just don’t want to be here anymore! There’s- so many tests and rules- an-and it’s cramped.”

“It’s cramped?” He sounds flabbergasted, furiously so. “We took you off the streets. A monster running around collecting from garbage cans- we’ve given you a bed, a room, plenty of food, and all we ask is your compliance. This-” He hits the button and Donnie chokes on the agony, tremors throttling him until the current stops hitting his spine. “-Is because of you. Is because you just can’t seem to listen to simple procedure. Because you keep making us tighten your rope.” 

He gestures to Donnie’s leg, “Because you won’t stop hurting yourself.” 

“I didn’t-”

“You did,” He sneers. “When you decided that your home wasn’t good enough for you. You're a freak. You don’t have a place out there. You look in through the wrong window and some citizen with a shotgun isn’t going to think twice about blowing out your brains. Is that what you want?”

His finger is on Donnie’s plastron. His thumb is touching the button. “To become another dead body on the street- a waste of a life, another meaningless, rotting husk to be put away? If that’s what you want, I’ll call a guard in and we can give it to you right now- ”

“No!” He panics, “Please, wait, don’t-”

“Here, you have purpose. Here, your preservation matters. We saved you.”

“I know,” Donnie nods frantically. “I know- I know, It was wrong, I was-”

He raises his hand. Donnie flinches away, eyes closed. 

“...You are unnatural.” He touches the bruise on the top of Donnie’s head, gentle. “A child built like a man. Your existence is dangerous all on its own, but paired with your selfish, immature, idiocy …” His hand moves down his face. Donnie’s skin crawls. “You’re a child. You do not get to make the adult choices. We are the adults. We know what is best for you.”

He pats his cheek. Donnie only opens his eyes when the hand retracts. “You are needed here. But since you won’t or can’t stop trying to get yourself lost in a world that doesn’t want you…”

He stands up and Donnie shrinks in on himself, trying not to let his face reveal just how wrong he is, just how much is waiting for him. His friends. His brothers. His father.

The rest of the world might not want Donnie, but he doesn’t want the rest of the world either.

He doesn’t want to advance science anymore. He wants to go home.

The human presses the button attached to the top of his labcoat. 

The guards come in, immediately zoning in on Donnie’s position. He tries to make himself as small and unassuming as possible, gaze locked on the scientist who has yet to call out his verdict. The chosen punishment for his crime. 

“Knock him out,” He instructs confidently. “We’re taking the leg.”

His heart stops, “NO-”

A guard swings in his peripheral. 

Donnie hits the ground.

Chapter Text

Memory loss / Adrenaline crash / Knots

Waking up feels like falling.

He comes up fighting, clawing at the air and flailing back on the mattress, rigid muscles locking as his body trembles. He might have been able to sit up if he wasn’t held down, ropes tight around his wrists as alarms start ringing in his brain. The panic that had woken him up increases when the unfamiliar figure comes towards him, hands out in a pacifying gesture, like he would ever really trust someone who stands by while he’s tied to a bed.

“Hold on hold on- calm down-”

He doesn’t. If one of his hands were free, he might be able to get at the knots, but he’s not sure how possible that is in his current position. He jerks his body up and sinks his teeth into the rope, trying to see if there’s any possible way to cut through it with what he has. 

The figure grabs at him, smashing under his jaw to force him to release, “Woah, dude, quit-!”

He thrashes at the contact, breaking free of the hold and then trying to catch his fingers between his teeth. “-HEY!”

“Let me go!” His mouth tastes like what-ever-the-heck rope tastes like and his heart is pounding so hard that he’s pretty sure it’s going to break free from his chest. “LET ME GO!”

“Well, I would but you’re pretty insistent on trying to kill this morning!” 

He strains and tugs and panics when another bigger figure appears in the doorway, but all he gets for his troubles is new pain thrumming around his wrist. “Raphael-”

“I didn’t do anything!” Angry Figure cuts in, “He tried to bite his ropes and then he tried to bite me! He’s the one being crazy today-”

“Bringing gasoline to a fire will not put it out. Lower your aggression or leave the room.”

“AHHG!” His hand doesn’t come free. His feet have kicked up the cover, pulling it free from the top corners, but he’s getting nowhere with his hands. The feeling of impending doom worsens when all eyes go to him and he wishes that they had tied his arms together instead of to the wood because at the very least he could have tried to choke one of them out. 

The taller figure approaches and adrenaline hits his brain hard enough that the room blurs. “DON’T COME ANY CLOSER GET AWAY FROM ME-”

He’s going to die. He’s one hundred percent certain that he’s going to die, even though the figures aren’t getting any closer. They must have done something to him- making it hard for him to breathe even as he takes in air. The sweat is sticky against his skin, connecting him to the sheets that he doesn’t want to be on, blanketing his body in an unnatural heat.

They’re talking to him. They’re talking to him and he’s screaming back, words and phrases that sound so bold compared to how he’s feeling. He needs to find a place to hide-  

“Sensei?”

Donnie’s head shoots for the door as a familiar set of eyes peek uncertainly around the doorframe. There’s a small bandage on his cheek, faint red telling them how much fresh blood must have been getting collected by it. They hurt him. They hurt him.

“It is alright, Leonardo. Only a bad day.”

A hesitant step in. “Do you want me to get a sedi-”

“Leo!”

Everyone in the room goes still. Leo looks at him with wide eyes, like the fact that he could speak was a miracle. He strains to sit up as much as he can, shoulders aching and eyes watering at the first not utterly terrifying thing to exist. His voice cracks but he pushes past it, begging, “Leo- Leo, let me out. Make them let me go. Please, please, Leo, help me.” 

Leo strides forward. The tall figure doesn’t stop him, but the angry one snaps, “He’s could be faking, you can’t-”

But Leo does, because he won’t ever choose some bossy, kidnapping jerk over him.

When his wrists are free, Donnie throws himself at him and into a hug. He clings to his carapace, eyes shut and brain spinning like he’d been violently shaken and was still trying to acclimate to sitting still. Leo returns the hug, tight and protective, and Donnie knows that if they try anything, they’re going to have his big brother to deal with.

He’s still not safe, but it makes him feel safer. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Leo mutters as if confirming his terrified, whirling thoughts. “Just breathe with me. Breathe with me.”

Donnie blinks away the tears, spotting the new face. He keeps his chin against his shoulder, glaring at them in harsh warning. If they try anything while Leo’s back is turned, he’ll kill them. 

The eyes continue to stare back, wide and scheming.

“Donnie,” Leo coaxes. “You’re not breathing with me.”

“They’re everywhere,” He snaps, not looking away for a second. “They’re everywhere- they’re gonna get me.”

“You woke up in a scary position,” Leo says slowly. “Surrounded by people you don’t recognize. But they’re not out to get you.”

“No, they-” 

“They just want to make sure you don’t hurt anyone.”

“No they don’t-”

“Donnie-”

“They’re lying-”

“No, Donnie-”

“They’re lying!” He shoves away. “They’re lying- they’re lying to get me and you’re letting them! You can’t let them, Leo, you can’t- I’ll stop them- ”

“Donnie!” Leo’s holding onto his wrist, other hand pushing his face towards him, trying to look him in the eyes. “Look at me- look at me-” Donnie does, even though it’s a terrible, horrible defensive strategy. “-yeah, there we go. There we go. Listen, just listen, I’m not going to let anybody hurt you. Okay? Okay?” Donnie nods, quick. “But- you can’t lash out. You have to work with me. No hurting anybody unless I say so. Do you hear me?”

He nods again, lump in his throat making it hard to swallow.

Someone moves and Donnie has to curve the impulse to react. He throws himself at Leo, burying his face against the side of his neck and struggling not to look. “That’s it,” he rubs the back of his carapace, up and down, a soothing motion. “That’s it. We’re okay.”

“I don’t understand- when did he reset?”

“Must’ve been when you knocked hi-”

“We don’t need to have such discussions here.” The commanding tone interrupts. “We do not need to risk misunderstandings.” A long silence. “Leonardo.”

A hiss escapes his throat on instinct- how dare use his full name what right-

“I think he’s overwhelmed," Leo says over him. “It might be better if he has space.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah,” Leo leans his head against Donnie’s. Donnie nuzzles closer. “Just give me a few minutes to calm him down.”

Donnie sees what he’s doing. Getting rid of them so they can figure out an escape plan without prying eyes. Leo’s always thinking on his feet.

He can hear them moving. Goosebumps litter his arms but he refuses to open his eyes.

“There we go,” Leo says carefully. “They’re gone. Just us now. Just me and you.”

The energy zips out of him so fast that he can feel gravity throwing him down. Every muscle loosens without his permission; the adrenaline drop is as dizzying as the adrenaline high.

“Woah- woah, Dee.” He keeps them upright. “That’s better. There we go.” 

Donnie lets the vulnerable whimper hit the air, breaths easier in his lungs now that he’s found relative safety again. Leo’s voice drops, “Oh, buddy.”

“I don’t know what’s happening,” He reveals in a shaky plea, “We have to get out of here.”

“We can’t-”

“Leo-”

“Trust me, Dee.” He pleads. “I need you to trust me.” 

Donnie thinks about the cut on his face. He wonders what Leo knows that he doesn’t- what they can do that he’s risking by ignoring the warnings. Maybe he’s playing some kind of long game, maybe he already has a plan and Donnie’s messing it all up.

He swallows, nails scraping carapace, “I wanna go home.”

“I’ll help you find your way back,” Leo whispers. “I promise.”

Chapter Text

Blindfold / Fall / Touch Starved

They hadn’t seen Donnie in eight days.

That is, if he was right and they did have them on a three meals a day schedule, that’s how long it would be. He was taken away when he managed to get into one of their computers, hacking straight in and shutting everything down long enough for them to escape.

It had been part of Leo’s plan. Mikey had thought it was a really good plan.

Donnie had too. He’d done everything that he was supposed to do.

Then the plan failed and they took Donnie away.

Leo hadn’t made any plans since he left.

Not that anything was happening. They left them to sit in the room. It was a nice room, with steady meals and not-terrible cots on the floor and small pool of water to soak in. But Mikey couldn’t enjoy it while knowing that Donnie was somewhere else.

Leo threw his food at Raph and Raph screamed at Leo and they fought and fought and it went on like this forever.

Mikey sat near the cameras, eating like he was supposed to and begging to see his brother. Just to make sure that he was okay.

Then Donnie came back, shoved in by the robot hands during one of Leo and Raph’s fuming sessions. He stumbled as they both jumped to their feet.

He stopped. He stayed put. 

He stood with a blindfold on his face and hands held tightly to his chest. He didn’t speak or move. It didn’t even look like he was breathing. Leo and Raph exchanged worried looks, unsure what to do or how to approach him. Mikey walked right up and removed the blindfold.  

Donnie winced when presented with the bright light, sinking into himself.

“Donnie?” Mikey scanned him. He looked unharmed. “Hey, bro.”

Donnie stared at him with round eyes. Mikey smiled and held out his hand.

His older brother grabbed it with both hands, yanking in a way that rocked Mikey's balance and threw him forward. This was definitely not the first time that Mikey had taken a tumble onto him, but Donnie acted like it was, as if it was an attack, screaming and scrambling away.

Only, he didn’t run, because Raph caught his arm before he could go far. “Woah! Calm down, Donnie, it’s us!”

Donnie stared at the hand on his skin and then looked up at Raph like a deer in headlights. It only took a few seconds for Raph to get wildly uncomfortable. Uncertainly, he let go of his hand and Donnie pulled it back. He rubbed the skin, blinking rapidly. 

“Donnie,” Leo asked carefully, “What happened?”

“I…” His voice cracked immediately. “I, roh-room,” He rubbed his arm.

“This room?” Mikey asked curiously. Donnie shook his head.

“They took you to a room,” Leo prompted. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“Uh,mm.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t- huhm, no. No, I just. I was tehre- there, uh.”

Donnie held out his hand. They stared at it and then at him.

He brought it back to his chest and rubbed it with a small, heartbroken sound. 

“Donnie…” Leo trails off and Donnie shakes his head. “S-ssorry, sorry.” 

The concern on their older brothers’ faces is prominent. Donnie doesn’t seem to notice, stuck on trying to sandpaper his skin with his palm. Mikey’s not even sure that he’s fully aware of what he’s doing by how jerky and uncertain his movements are. He walks up to him again, watching his hand until it slows to a stop, and then his brother looks up.

Donnie stares at him, breath caught, and Mikey opens his arm, “Need a hug?”

He doesn’t move or react, but Mikey is pretty sure he needs a hug, so he wraps his arms around his older brother and lays his head against his plastron. With a soft whimper and a timid grip, Donnie holds him back. A weak sob escapes. His impossibly stiff form trembles.

Mikey pats his carapace, “You’re okay, bro.”

He knows he’s not. And he knows his brothers know he’s not. And he knows that the people behind those cameras know that he’s not. None of them are, really.

But as soon as Donnie lets go, and Mikey gets his hands on the blankets on the cots, and the bots come in to handle the kidnappers newly blackened screen, and he stabs his fork in the way of the sliding door, and Raph and Leo get a chance to use all their pent-up anger to smash and trash and remove everything that gets their way-

Then Donnie will get home. Then things will start to be okay again.

In the meantime, Mikey hugs him and waits for Donnie to let go.

Chapter Text

Handcuffs / Humiliation / Interrogation

They watched his knee crash into his jaw.

None of them saw it coming, crying out at the same moment that their brother hit the ground. He might have cried out with them, but everything happened too quickly for them to really see. One of them tried to stand but the chains attached to the floor kept him in place. The agent behind them knocked the legs out from beneath the prisoner, sending him down.

“I just want to know-” The voice is tense in forced calm, body turning away from the turtle on the other side of the glass. A boot collides with the plastron, once, twice, more and more, hard and fast. “-the location of the rat…” 

“Stop! Stop it! ”

The man stops kicking him, as if he heard. Then he raises the metal bat in his hands.

“It’s not up to me to stop it.” It goes down. The body spasms, mouth open in gasps that go unheard through the soundproof barrier. He could turn on the speaker, but there's always the risk that the prisoners wouldn't be able to hear him.

“It’s up to you.”

The turtle's body rocks through choking coughs, metal chains trembling with cuffed hands. The man takes calculated steps away, scanning the helpless form.

One of the prisoners looks to the other, terror shrinking pupils, "Maybe we-"

A frantic head shake, "He'll hate us, he'll-"

The man comes to a decision. The bat connects.

The turtle's mouth opens, agony painted in an unheard scream.

It doesn't change much about the prisoners' reactions.

“No-”

“You can’t-”

“Please-”

The bat continues swinging, like a hammer on a nail, until the leg is visibly detached from the hip.

“NO!”

“PLEASE PLEASE -”

“HE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING-”

It crashes on his knees for the sake of one more blow. The man is speaking, walking around to get down on one knee and hold him by the throat.

The agent wonders what’s being said, resigning to watch the feed later.

One of the prisoners is crying, a quivering, quiet ordeal. His head is bowed to the floor, unable to keep watching the horrors.

The agent approaches from behind, grabbing his mask tails and forcing him to lift his head.

The turtle is unable to get a grip on his arm, twisting his broken body and scratching black fabric in his fight to get air.

The man roughly releases and stands.

His foot shoves against the plastron, knocking the turtle on his shell. His arms are locked straight out, pulling at his shoulders. It looks uncomfortable, but the agent has to admit that this is the least of any of their concerns. 

“You can stop this,” The agent assures carefully, letting go. “You three are the only ones who can.”

He stands up. The bat connects with shivering arms. The prisoners are screaming.

None of it solves their problem. None of it is useful. All desperate, pathetic sounds.

“The brother or the father.” He muses, mostly to himself. “What a choice.”

The bat flies across the room, hitting the glass. 

All the prisoners jump, finally quieting for a moment. 

The man straightens, taking the blade out of his pocket.

The turtle doesn’t move, eyes glazed by the drugs in his system and the tears streaking his face. There’s no way he can fight back, even if he could think past the pain enough to try. 

“Are you really going to watch this happen?”

The man drops it. They cry out. 

It hits the plastron, as harmless as a dart on a dartboard. 

He gets down and grabs the handle. He presses down.

The pain jolts the turtle’s body. 

Two hands on the handle-

“WAIT!”

He hits the button on his belt. 

On the other side of the glass, a small sound stops the man in his tracks.

He stays where he is to reinforce the threat. The turtle is shaking violently, eyes closed and turned away.

The agent watches the prisoners. One of them is back to pressing his forehead to the floor. 

The other has his gaze locked on the glass, on the brother lying helpless on the other side. 

“I’ll do it,” The turtle promises, breathing like he’d been the one to take the beating. “I’ll tell you- I’ll show you, whatever you want. Just don’t hurt him anymore. Don’t hurt him anymore.”

The agent can work with that. “If I take you to him now, you will tell me everything I need to know. If I find out that anything that you reported is a lie, I will make him pay for it. His death will not be pretty. It will not be painless. And you will watch.”

Both prisoners are staring at their brother. 

They don't argue. They don’t interject. 

He doesn’t look at them.

He nods briefly and awkwardly, head bowing with the weight of a selfish betrayal. 

The agent waves for the guards to disconnect the cuffs from the chains on the floor.

The prisoner stumbles when he stands. The agent presses the gun to the back of his neck and drags him to the room right next door. The door opens. The man takes away the blade. 

Once they’re near the body, he releases the prisoner’s arm and steps back.

He bolts and falls to his knees in the blood next to his brother, touching the broken arms like he’s afraid to do them more damage. The turtle doesn’t speak. He chirps, tiny and small, and the prisoner leans over him with the same response. The turtle presses their beaks together with a whine. The prisoner brushes trembling hands against his chin, responding with soft clicks.

The agent looks at the man. “Get me a map.”

His underling nods, the bat in hand.

"We have a rat to find."

The agent allows him the few minutes to dwell in the connection to his brother. The prisoner needs to be convinced that he made the right choice so he won’t make the wrong one. Perhaps he could arrange for further cooperation in return for medical treatment. There are more than five mutants in this city, after all.

The man leaves. The agent stays.

In the other room, the last two turtles watch.

"No, no, no-" The prisoner pleads suddenly, the broken sound filling the silent room. "I couldn't let them. I couldn't. You're not- this isn't-"

He drops the human tongue, inhuman noises as gentle as the hand that brushes the blood and tears.

The agent stays in the background, studying the weakness, noting the words.

First, they will focus on collecting the biggest threat.

Everything else will come in time.

Chapter Text

Bruises / Noose / Mercy

He knew he was stupid.

In the same way that a person knew how to breathe and a bird knew how to fly and a dog thrown in the deep, deep water managed to swim to the surface- he just knew. He always just knew, even when he was too small to properly grasp the concept. 

He knew something had to be wrong with him, abandoned for hours and hours on end when Karai got to run at the heels of the foot soldiers. They didn’t look at him in the same way that they looked at her. It didn’t take long until she saw the world through their vision.

She was a warrior, a powerful protege, a young woman built for greatness. 

He was a thing, malformed and ugly and stupid, only kept because Shredder commanded it.

For years, all he knew was cells and cold rooms and the feeling of something hard hitting him until his skin changed colors. He painted walls and floors in his spit, blood, and bile, and then he was moved somewhere else to spread his filth and stain.

He always thought Shredder hated him. He never spoke to him, never found it worth his while unless he was reminding him that there’s only one reason that he’s still alive.

He was that reason. He should be grateful for it.

(He wasn’t, stupid, stupid as he was.)

They took him when they went to the city.

Karai gave him new words- van, plane, box, city- and he added them to the list that never came out quite right when they left his brain. He collected them anyway, a notetaker of what he could make of his universe, scribbling over the pain with the interesting.

Everything was interesting. Everything but him. He wanted more than him.

He wanted everything. (He deserved nothing.) 

He wanted, wanted, wanted until the air in his lungs wasn’t enough anymore. 

He fell, and he glimpsed the sky, and he wanted.

But he was a thing, and things weren’t meant to run. Things were meant to stay, even when they wanted and reached, because their deserving was right around the corner to drag them down. 

He’s thrown into the room. 

He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want it. He can’t stop the wants.

(He wants and he wants and then he wants to stop wanting.)

(Like everything in his life, it’s a vicious cycle.)

The Foot soldiers are a distraction. Their pain passes the time.

Their words are cruel and loud when in the room, much more vocal about his flaws.

He notes everything that is said, filled even without his feedings.

The words don’t mean anything to him. But they means something to them.

He keeps them to remember.

He keeps them to forget about his wants.

(He doesn’t forget.)

He’s taken out of the room.

He’s not supposed to, never supposed to leave without Shredder’s command. 

But the noose closes in on his neck and he’s dragged out anyway. The old soldiers used to think that he was funny, but these soldiers hate him. They seethe and spit and force him onto the ground like he had done wrong, like he will forever pay the price for wanting.

He looks for the words to tell them to please stop please but he knows that repeating their speech back to them makes things worse. They hit harder and draw blood, dragging him to his feet to prolong the punishment. He’s too scared to speak, drowning in the weak, distressed chirps that take the place of anything with meaning. 

There’s blood in his throat and his chest hurts in a way that it’s never hurt before and he doesn’t think he’s going to be able to want ever again if they don’t stop. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe that’s the only way.

He needs the words but he’s not smart enough to know them.

He falls and blood splatters on the floor. Everything hurts, hazy and distorted and something grabs his shell- 

The body goes. Flies away in a blur as his eyes close.

Smears of sound- no talking, only hitting, silence of warriors- and then a cold hand is on his face.

He flinches away from it, whine squeaking from his throat. (please)

A new tone, speaking in a way that he doesn’t know, using words he doesn’t recognize.

The hands are cold, but that body that he's pulled against is warm.

He breaths rattle in his lungs. He’s being moved.

(Something is wrong.)

He opens his eyes. He sees the sky.

(He’s dreaming. He wants to stop.)

The whine is wrong in pitch. When he breathes, blood comes out.

Someone shouts. Pain is coming. Death isn’t far behind.

The world is cold. The pressure is warm.

There’s something on his face.

He goes to remove it but something else stops him.

He lets his hand go limp, waiting to see what happens to it.

He’s let go. Shuffling movement. Soft voice. 

He watches the roof. 

He waits for them to leave.

They don’t.

A hand is ghosting over skin, stopping to examine the bone that never healed quite right.

He doesn’t need to breathe. Air is pushed into his throat.

Hands on the side of his face, adjusting it until something is blocking his view of the room.

A face greener than his skin. He stares, at another useless reject that demands his attention. Someone who’s healthier, someone who must be worth more to have the door behind open in invitation. The reject mutters, “Hey...”

There’s no shouting, slammed doors, mocking entrance.

It’s calm. It comes with a small tremor.

The voice continues on with words that he notes. The hands release his face as the words are repeated, as if to assist him. He lets it sag, watching the hands move to the lap. That skin is green too, glaringly so against the red, greys, and yellows that have worn down his scales.

Full lungs exhale, long and choppy. 

The machine breathes for him.

Everything hurts. But his chest more than anything else.

He watches the door, ignoring the want tangled behind his plastron.

(Never grateful, never good enough, stupid, stupid.) 

He closes his eyes. He needs sleep.

He hopes it’s allowed.

Nothing hits him. No one shouts.

He can taste his own blood.

Chapter Text

Stabilization / Left for Dead / Flare

Donnie should have predicted this.

He should have seen this coming when they camped out- they were too close to the castle. It was reclaimed by the knights of the past and the future tech eliminated, but it had been an in-and-out operation. No one from the past was allowed to know they existed. No one could know who saved their kingdom from the tyrant. 

They had to solve the problem and get out before the timestream was damaged. Nobody here knew that they were friendly, that they’d saved the timeline as they knew it. All they knew was that their little group had been inhabiting their lands. 

Much like the humans of the future, all they wanted was to remove the monsters.

They hadn’t even noticed them until they were right on top of them. They were too relieved, too comfortable, too complacent to huddle around the fire and take a breather until Renet appeared.

Their only warning had been the aggravated horse.

Thanks to their idiocy, Donnie didn’t have much time.

He knew that the second that the blade pierced his older brother’s stomach, cutting deep into areas that are supposed to be protected by shell. There was blood on his chest and coating the inside of his mouth, released with each harsh, unforgiving cough. There had to be an insane amount of internal bleeding- something important was leaking into the rest of his body, coming up through the mouth like the blood on his plastron wasn’t enough. 

How was he supposed to fix this?

“Donnie-”

“I don’t know what to do.” It was a stupid thing to admit to a suffering brother, but it pops out of his mouth anyway. “I don’t know what to do- there’s too much blood-”

“Donnie-”

“I’d- I’d have to cut you open and we’re in the middle of nowhere- I don’t have the tools or the tech for this, it’s too dark, even if I use the flare we wouldn’t have very long. T-phone's light isn’t bright enough for this-” He moves his hands and blood flow immediately kicks into high gear. He frantically presses his hands back over the wound, pretending not to notice as Leo’s body trembles underneath him. 

“Dee, please.” It’s weak. His voice cracks. Donnie looks at him, wasting precious seconds to meet his glassy eyes. “There’s no time.”

“I have to do something. I have to or yo-”

“Donnie.” More blood, a small trickle dropping off his chin. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Don’t WORRY ABOUT YOU?! ” He shouldn’t be screaming. He shouldn’t be telling anyone out there that he's huddling up in this poor excuse for a cave with his dying brother, but the terror corrupts his tone without any remorse. “YOU’VE BEEN STABBED!”

“Donnie-’’

“You’re losing too much blood- how can I not worry about that?! It’s the only thing to worry about right now- I can’t fully stop the bleeding like this and if you keep bleeding-”

Donnie was probably hurting him with the amount of pressure that he’s forcing on his plastron.

It’s the first thing that he thinks when his older brother grabs at his wrist, squeezing it with a weakness that he’s only ever had once before. Donnie can’t think about the coma. Donnie doesn’t ever want to think about the coma. 

“You have to get them out of here.”

“I can’t move you like this.” Donnie snaps back, scarlet sticky between his fingers. “It would be incredible dangerous and stupid-”

“Then don’t bring me.”

“They’re not going to ditch us, meathead, are you concussed too?”

“Not us- Donnie-” 

He’s squeezing with a newborn grip. Donnie dares a glance to the side and sees the helpless glaze to his eyes and for a brief, merciful few seconds he gets to live in a niave world where he doesn’t understand why.  

Then the world ends.

“No.” He gasps. “No- no- I won’t. I won’t do it.”

“There are too many.” He begs, “Someone else is going to get hit.”

“Someone did get hit,” Some of the numb terror gives way, denial shoved in after a heavy, dangerous boulder of realization. “And he’s loopy from blood loss.”

“You can’t fix this.”

Donnie’s resolve cracks in a way that he’s not used to. “You don’t know-”

“Yeah, we do.” He loosens his grip. “You can’t.”

“Shut up,” His eyes are watering. Useless, pathetic, choking emotions getting the better of him. “You can’t know that. You don’t.”

“You do.” Leo holds his stare. “You can’t risk them.”

“I’m not-”

“Gehht them-” He coughs, turning his head away and splattering it down his arm and off to the side. Donnie’s brain replays the loop of it before his eyes. His hands shake.

“I can’t,” He says, an admittance and a plea. “I can’t.”  

“You can,” Leo promises, tears wiping at the stain on his mouth. “They need you.”

“They need you.” 

“You don’t think I know that?” Donnie wants to see the fire in his glare. He wants it to spark life. The look that he gets is devastated, like his words cut more than the blade. He didn’t mean to make this worse. “I-I don’t want to die.”

“I know,” He whispers. “I-”

“I don’t want you to watch.” One last squeeze. The parting affection feels burned into his skin. His older brother’s hand slides, hitting the ground. “Don’t make me do that to you.”

I love you.

Leo listens to Donnie’s sob and croaks, “Please.”

So he stands up. And he stumbles to the entrance, hand staining the rock.

He looks back. His older brother stares after him.

His voice shakes, “Okay,” 

Love you too.

Leo’s body slumps, surrendering to the agony.

Somewhere in the distance, Raph cries out and Mikey shouts.

Without looking back, Donnie leaves a piece of him behind to save the rest.

Chapter Text

Natural Disaster / Illness / Immortal

Mikey kept sneaking out.

Didn’t matter the time of day or night. Leo asked Fugitoid to report back and their guardian did, waking him up even from a deep sleep to alert him that Mikey had exited the ship.

Leo doesn’t stop him.

He lays awake or paces the ship and worries, but he doesn’t prevent him from going out.

Mikey was eighteen years old, practically nineteen, and if he wanted to spend his time with a friend before they left the planet then he wasn’t going to stop him. Leo wasn’t his dad. His dad was back home on earth with their future selves. There would be too much risk to- some complex time continuum to risk seeing him. So they were on their own with Fugitoid.

Leo regretted that sometimes, how fast they left without saying goodbye.

Had they even asked permission to go? Did he get a say?

He hopes that he’s not too mad at them for ditching him, but- space.

It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. 

Leo was Captain Ryan, having the time of his life. He liked the journey, the command, the stars and planets at his fingertips.

He enjoyed the freedom. 

So he let his crew be free too. As long as they came back.

Whatever was going on with their brother, he knew that Donnie knew too.

He almost never left their guardian’s side, so of course, Fugitoid would fill him in on Mikey’s activities. 

Leo found this out when he heard Donnie talking to Mikey in the holoroom.

“How long are you going to keep doing this?”

“He needs a friend, dude. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“He’s part of a cult that believes there’s some kind of immortal octopus god living in their waters.”

“It’s not a cult, dude. It’s, yk, his fam. They’re kinda nutty. ‘Sides you believed there was a monster living in the lair water making it ripple.”

“I was four! I didn’t understand capillary waves!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t stop playin’ with you ‘cause you were nutty.”

“Look- I’m just. I’m only-” Frustrated mutters as their smarter brother tries to piece his thoughts together. “-anyone who asks you to keep secrets is bad news.”

“Oh yeah? How about when you made me promise not to tell Raph about-”

“Do not finish that sentence, this place is filled with cameras.” 

“Just ‘cause nobody’s asking me doesn’t mean I'm hiding something.”

“Lie of omission, Mikey.”

“No missions, bro. We just mess around.”

“That’s not-” A heavy sigh. “Just be careful, okay?”

“I got it, bro. Chillax.”

Leo’s not surprised that Donnie got Mikey to open up. They were always closer.

He wasn’t sure if Mikey would share anything with him if he pressed, so he left it alone.

Mikey would tell them if something bad went down. They’d know.

“Leoooo, tell Raph he’s overreacting!”

“Mikey, it’s Leo we’re talking about.”

“So my temp’s a little hot! I don’t even feel bad!”

“Leo!”

Leo moves his arm from his eyes, giving his brother a tired look.

Raph’s always picking the most inconvenient times to make a fuss about things.

“I was sleeping, you know.”

“We had no idea.” Leo shifts his glare to the brother leaning on the edge of the couch. The smile that he gets in return is not remorseful. “Don’t mind me. I’m just watching.”

“Seem a little involved for someone who’s just watching.”

Leo sits up as Donnie shrugs, “No dogs in the race.”

“-not going out like this!”

“Seriously, there is no ‘like this’, dude!”

“Leo!” “Leo!”

“Okay!” He snaps, “Okay, okay- Raph, why can’t Mikey leave?”

“He’s sick! Donnie said so!”

Leo looks at Donnie.

“He has a very mild temperature." Their resident doctor admits. “Nothing that would stop Raph from gallivanting with Casey.”

“This ain’t about me!”

“Oh, that’s messed up-”

“Mikey,” Leo interrupts peacefully. “How long have you had a fever?”

“Not even that long!” He huffs indignantly. “I told Donnie to make sure it wasn’t a crazy alien disease! Very responsibly! Wasn’t it responsible, Donnie?”

Once again, Leo defers to his younger brother. He says, “It’s not a crazy alien disease.”

“Can I go now?” Mikey folds his hands. “Please, Leo? Please?!”

“Sure,” Their youngest fist-bumps the air as Raph’s face goes red. “You’re kidding me.” 

“I win! Bye Donnie! Bye Leo! Take THAT, Raphie!”

Cackling, Mikey runs from the room. 

He had a furious Raphael to deal with. So once again, Leo let him go. 

He’d gotten so used to letting him go that he forgot to ask where that was.

“Professer?!”

“It is only a- ah, what would you call it?- an earthquake, Leonardo.”

“Only an earthquake ?” 

Holding onto the seat, Raph sneers but he’s ignored by everyone else in the control room. April hovers a few inches from the ground, just enough so the movement that had knocked most of the crew off their feet doesn’t phase her. “Does this planet commonly have those?”

“Oh, yes.” Fugitoid says, quite pleased. “From time and again, the land masses move. The only danger comes from when the pieces collide but it’s a very rare…”

He trails off. Nervous, Donnie asks, “Professor?”

“...I think we should move the ship.”

“I can’t believe we’ve been on a deadly earthquake planet and nobody thought to tell us!”

“Technically, it’s classified as a-”

“Shut up, Donnie!”

Water splashes as they hop out of the ship and hit the ground. Leo’s grateful for the sturdy mass that catches him, glancing back at the clock on his wrist. Their more than a half-hour had become twenty-two minutes and Mikey’s dot still had yet to move. He looks to the few inches of liquid beneath his feet, a supposedly non-toxic purple color, listening to April’s firm, “I know this is stressful but maybe we should all just-”

“I told you not to let him go!”

She doesn’t stand a chance. He glances up, meeting Raph’s glare. Ugh. Seriously? 

“Yell at me later.” He takes off in a run. He can hear his crew following behind, bickering between themselves. The earthquake stopped. Why wasn’t Mikey coming back? 

And where were they? 

It leads them to a cave. His team quiets down, perhaps sensing the same bad juju that had Leo’s gut curling. Their glowing gear lights the way as they head inside.

The interior shrinks down before opening up, revealing a large area with glowing plants lining the walls. There are objects inside of it painted like sea creatures, set against the walls along the floor. The centerpiece is a massive picture of a fish-octopus-man up on the wall and beneath it is obviously some kind of altar.

There’s a body in front of it. It looks like an alien resident, muttering to itself, hands placed over some kind of- coffin? Box? It was decorated in a way that took time and effort.

“Creepshow.” Raph mutters as he comes up behind Leo. He nods, voice low. “You said it.”

Donnie reminds, “Where’s Mikey?”

The universe hears him. 

The lid gets thrown open. The alien’s hands go up.

“Great master!” He shouts. “Accept my offering!”

Mikey’s in that coffin.

There’s a knife over his head.

April gasps and Casey starts, “Hey-!”

The brothers move as one.

Leo crosses the space and grabs the lifted arm. Shock fuels the struggle, distracting long enough for Raph to tackle the alien to the ground. Donnie is already by Mikey’s side, hand on his neck and his wrist.

“Steady pulse!” He shouts as April stops by his side. “Help me get him up!”

“No!” Casey and Raph force the alien to the floor when he tries to break free, neither giving him any slack when they hold him down. “You can’t do that!”

“Just did,” Raph snarls. “Now stay down, twerp.”

“Leo!”

Leo turns as Mikey is carefully lowered out. His eyes are lidded but open. Leo rushes to his side, feeling the heat radiating from his skin as soon as he touches it. 

“Little brother,” He breathes as he cups the side of his face, watching his eyes shimmer in the soft lighting. “It’s me. It’s Leo. You’re going to be okay, now.”

“Mmm-hu?” He mutters, lost and dazed. “Leo?”

He slumps forward and Leo hurries to bear his weight. April lets go and Donnie nervously hovers, hands on his shell as the eldest tucks him safely against his chest. He can feel their youngest curling against him, every heavy breath in a body that got too sick too fast.

Leo doesn’t bother to look away, "What did you do to him?”

“I got him ready.” The alien snaps, lacking any remorse. “His soul will satiate the great hunger! I will stop the quakes!”

Clipped, Leo states, “Raph.”

The body slam gives him a small, sick bit of satisfaction. 

“Do we got five minutes?” Casey demands as he walks up to the altar. April checks, “I’d say so. Why-?”

Casey starts swinging. Leo hoists Mikey up to carry him away from the damage. 

Donnie follows after, guilty stance looking every bit like how Leo felt inside.

“Leo,” He starts, “I need to tell you who-”

“I know.”

He stares at him. Leo looks at the pale freckled face, wondering what would have happened if he was one minute later. If he’d never let him go out. If he’d stopped him from sneaking out in the first place. Would Splinter have let this happen?

“It’s okay,” He says. “We got him.”

They leave the planet as the quakes start again.

Leo hopes the cave feels the full brunt.

Chapter Text

Wound Cleaning / Salve / Examination

The tightness in Donnie’s chest doesn't loosen until the blade hits the water.

It doesn't entirely go away, making his steps heavier and his breaths a bit more manual than they usually are. He was grateful that his brothers didn’t notice him lagging behind a few steps, talking and grinning and walking as he watches their hands, their eyes, their body language in general.

Leo abruptly raises his hand to gesture at Donnie.

Donnie flinches, catching himself and playing it off as a full glance over his shoulder. 

They're looking at him when he turns back. He realizes that he probably should have been listening, doing more than tracking their tone, waiting for the relapse that would hint that he absolutely should not have been bringing them back to the lair. 

He chuckles nervously, offers what he hopes is a believable smile, and then keeps going.

He passes them up, hating the prickle along his nape when their eyes stay on him.

Their normal eyes, their non-glowing eyes- they're fine. 

Ho Chan is long gone. His haunted blade is deep under water.

His brothers are fine. He is fine. April is fine. Everyone's-

“Woah,” Someone grabs his arm. Donnie jabs swiftly, removing the grip, putting distance between them. Raph puts his hands in the air, “Don!”

Donnie relaxes his stance. “Sorry, you, uh, surprised me. That’s all.”

The judgement radiates and Donnie’s grateful for it. “Was just gonna ask what you did to your arm.” 

He looks down to the arm that Raph had grabbed. The scales and skin above his elbow had started peeling off, faint smears of red all the way up it.

He hadn’t even felt a thing.

Leo comes around Raph’s shoulder as Mikey sucks in a sympathetic breath. “Yikes. We do that?”

“Kind of.” He moves his arms, scanning the area. “Must have scraped it when you knocked me out of the tornado. More of the concrete's fault then…” 

He looks between his brothers. Their eyes are wide.“What?”

“The tornado?” Mikey's somewhere between awed and confused. “There was a tornado?”

Donnie rubs the back of his neck. The movement stings, annoyingly. “Yeah? You guys… Do you remember anything?”

“Pizza,” Mikey offers as Leo shakes his head, “You said we fought. I thought you meant, like, fisticuffs or with weapons- where do tornados come in?”

“You guys made one. Sucked me and Casey up, threw us around- originally, I thought it was a tactic to unbalance us, but then you got rid of Casey and then it was me and you and the tornado and the electricity and… Everything else and if I didn’t know any better I’d think it was personal the way you all… Ganged up on me…”

He laughs, awkward and uncomfortable. His brothers stare at him, all with their own brands of shock and- Something else. He looks away too fast to guess what. He doesn’t want to know- worry, concern, pity, he doesn’t need any of it. He doesn’t want it.

“We should get back.” He turns away with a calculated effort to not look their way. “Sensei’ll want to know where we’ve been.”

“Donnie-”

“Don’t,” He starts walking, arm stinging. “It’s fine.”

Donnie turns up the music when they reach the ShellRaiser.

Leo’s communicator screen is switched off. He ignores the looks that Mikey and Raph keep exchanging, fingers messing with controls to make himself look busy. Every time that a brother looks tempted to speak, he pretends to be so engrossed in the screens and too close to the speakers to possibly hear them. How did we make a tornado? Donnie? What else did we do? I didn’t hurt you, did I? How long were we under? Donnie? Donnie? Donnie? 

They reach home and Donnie lurches to his feet, out the door before his brother can bring the ShellRaiser to a full stop. He pushes through the turnstiles, calling out, “Sensei, we’re home!”

He strides to his lab. It’s a normal pace to walk in. He wasn’t running. There wasn’t anything to run away from. He had to take care of his wounds. Sensei needed to be filled in. His brothers could be the ones to do that. The sooner he knew, the better.

Donnie locks the lab door behind him.

He goes over to his desk, slumping down in the chair. He's exhausted.

A nap might do him some good. Maybe in his room, where his brothers would be less likely to bother him.

The computer is open to the pizza place. Donnie leaves the website.

Ho Chan’s page is open.

Donnie closes out that too.

His hand quivers around the mouse. He pulls it to his lap.

Back of his head against the chair, he closes his eyes and takes a moment to breathe.

He senses the movement before he hears someone riffling through his stuff.

Donnie groans miserably, hands on his face.

He doesn’t need to check to know he left the garage door open.

He does reluctantly look when someone takes hold of his wrist.

Leo’s sitting on his desk, turning the limb so he has a better view of the wound. Mikey leans on the side of Donnie’s desk as Raph stands straight up, arms crossed. Their eldest brother runs an alcohol wipe over it and Donnie winces at the sting. His chest is tight again, more concerned with the obvious surrounding tactics that his brothers are employing.

Mikey suddenly shifts to crouch by his side. He yanks at his plastron and pulls out a flat, cracked, black object from his shell.

Leo pauses and Raph leans around him.

“There was debris in the tornado.” He speaks before Mikey can, cheek against his shoulder as he studies it, wondering how he didn’t feel that either. “All over the place. Must’ve hit me.”

Raph’s jaw is locked as he pulls out of sight. Mikey puts it on the desk.

Leo pulls out some of the salve that Splinter makes and begins carefully smearing it along the reddened area. It hits Donnie that he actually had been hurting as he experiences the relief. 

“Thanks,” He acknowledges as Raph stops hovering long enough to hand Leo a roll of bandages.

Donnie tries to scoot back his chair and Raph's hand stops him.

He glares up at him. He meets his gaze, immovable.

“Yep,” Leo says distractedly, almost solemnly. “Least I can do.”

He rolls his eyes, “Don’t be like that.”

“Be like what?” His gaze sharpens but his hands stay gentle. “Guilty for throwing my brother out of a tornado?”

“Yes.” He states firmly. “There’s nothing to make up for.”

“Dude, we attacked you.” Mikey pushes. “Isn’t that why you’re mad at us?”

“I’m not mad at you.” 

“You seem mad.”

He throws up his free hand. “Well, that’s because this conversation is maddening.” 

Raph challenges, “If you’re not mad, why are you acting like this?”

“I’m not acting like anything! I just don’t want to talk about it!"

Leo finishes so Donnie takes his arm back, “Now if you’re done interrogating me about...”

He doesn't actually know how to finish that sentence. He trails off, looking somewhere over his shoulder, wondering if he forgot the words or if he never had them at all. Then his older brother shifts and Donnie returns his attention to him.

Leo leans over, hands on his knees, squinting at him. Donnie has no idea if it’s supposed to be a poor attempt at intimidation, but he does feels very, very uncomfortable.

Leo smacks him. Quick, abrupt, fairly light and right on the plastron. 

Donnie’s hand doesn’t come up. His body jumps, a second after the blow.

“Your reaction time is slow.” His older brother decides, softening. “I think you’re in shock.”

“Oh,” He blinks. “I don’t feel like I’m in shock.”

“I think that’s normal.”

Raph nods assuredly, “So he could be mad.” 

Donnie can’t stand his brother sometimes. “How could I be mad at you when it was my fault?”

“Your fault?” Mikey comes in closer. “How was it-” 

“My sons,” Splinter enters the room. His gaze falls on the bandage up his arm.

He frowns, concern visible. “Where have you been?”

Donnie grabs the conversation change. “It’s a long story, Sensei.”

“I have time.”

Donnie recounts everything that he can remember. His brothers chime in with interruptions until he gets to post-spiritual-brainwashing, then they quiet down long enough to hear him recount the fight. He does, voice strong despite the pressure on his chest. He looks only at his father, grateful for the unreadable expression so he doesn’t have to have someone else wigging out over something that is over with.

Splinter goes to each of his previously brainwashed sons, placing a hand on their forehead and closing his eyes. Whatever that’s about, he seems calmed by it. Then he has Donnie stand up and looks him over, checking for any other injuries that nobody noticed. 

He tells Donnie to rest. Donnie takes the excuse to lock himself in his room.

He lays on his sheets and stares at the roof.

There are dead human bodies on the floor.

There are three living bodies glowing with ethereal power.

Ho Chan hovers over him, grinning like a man who knew he’d won.

“It was three measly goons!” He cackles. “Complete idiots!” 

Donnie wants to move but he can’t. He tries to scream but nothing comes out.

His brothers put their hands up, catching the light that comes down through the roof.

“Oh,” He preens. “Thank you for the replacements.”

His brothers take aim at him, eyes hard. Ho Chan moves aside.

“Couldn’t have done it without you!”

Blazing blue leaves green skin and consumes his vision.

He wakes up in his brightly lit room. 

He doesn’t stay in it- walls closing in, breaths sharp and painful, vision blurring, burning up his throat- for very long, sweaty hands struggling with the knob until he can throw the door open. 

He only gets a few steps before the burning is on his tongue. He hits the floor and the awful, awful taste follows his cue. It splatters against his hand and an aching sob punches out, words and images smashed into the little space left in his skull. He can’t get them out.

They tried to kill him. He should have stopped them. He let it happen.

Someone’s hand is on his arm, pulling him up from the ground.

One of his legs gives way, but he’s not allowed to fall again.

Something flickers, giving up, black consuming and then spitting him out.

He’s sitting on the couch. His face is wet and his body is shaking.

Fabric against his mouth pulls away.

Two hands on his shoulders. “Donnie. Donnie, look at me.”

Donnie is looking but he’s not seeing, so he sinks his nails into the bandage until the pain sends a shock to his brain. His hand is removed but the job is done, dead bodies filtering to the back of his brain so he can see the older brother restraining his wrist.

Leo stares at him, half-worried, half-stern, “Donnie?”

“I’m sorry.” He says through the crackles in his throat. He clears it, looking to the brothers hovering off to the side. “I shouldn’t of- I should of- I let him take you.”

“It’s okay,” Mikey scoops him in for a hug, simple and straightforward and warm. Donnie wraps an arm around his little brother, mouth hidden again in his shoulder. He stares at Raph’s anger, more baffled than actually angry, as he demands, “You let him? Are you kidding me?” 

“Let who?” Leo asks, fingers tight on Donnie’s arm. “What are we talking about?”

“The brainwashing, right?” Raph watches him nod and scowls, “Are seriously playing that you had any part of that? How would any of us have seen that coming, huh? Or were you somehow in leagues with this guy the whole time?”

He's not taking this seriously. Donnie pushes away from Mikey, nauseating lump of guilt getting bitten by hot embers, and insists, “I let the Purple Dragons get away. This whole ordeal never would have happened if I had handled them!” 

“But you did handle them.” Leo lets him go. “That’s how we got free.”

“You shouldn’t have been brainwashed in the first place and you know it!” 

Raph looks ready to clap back but Donnie doesn’t give him the chance. “I had the opportunity to prevent this from ever happening and I blew it! I let April get taken and let you guys get brainwashed- I get why you singled me out- I do! I got you trapped under a madman’s control, you have every right to be mad at me- I’d be mad at me!”

“But we’re not mad at you!” Mikey tries to reach for him but Donnie pushes himself away. “Not even a little bit!” 

“Yes you are! You have to be!” 

“Don’t you think we’d know how we feel?” Leo demands critically, in a tone that is bordering on exasperated. “As emotionally constipated as Raph is, he’d know if he was mad. He’d make sure the world knows that he’s mad!” 

“And I’m not mad!” Raph tacks on, furiously. “You’re the one that should be mad! We tried to kill you!” 

“But- but then why?” His voice drops, smaller and more unsure. “Why were you guys…” 

“Why were we what?” Leo scoots closer, a cautious hand on his knee pad. Donnie stares at it and then up at him, swallowing as he earnestly continues, “What did we do?” 

“You singled me out.” He whispers. “You singled me out and tossed Casey and you-" surrounded me attacked me blasted me hurt me- None of it didn’t sound accusatory. None of it would do anything but hurt them. He doubles back, trying not to victimize himself. He didn’t have someone in his head, controlling his every action, forcing him to do things that he wouldn’t do. What if they actually didn’t? Everything happened so fast. All he has is a scrape. Does he have any room to be complaining? “-I-I guess, I could be. Remembering wrong.”

“Maybe you’re remembering right but interpreting wrong?” Leo suggests lightly, “You gotta keep in mind… It wasn’t up to us. Or- or even if it was, it wasn’t because we were blaming you, because we don’t." Donnie has a hard time believing that and it must show on his face. “It- it could have been strategic. You know? Since we were his-his minions and all.” An edge of distaste is mirrored with twice the amount of disgust on their brothers' faces. “Take out the weakest and focus our efforts on the strongest. We probably didn’t even see Casey as a threat worth chasing when we threw him.”

“But…” A needy, hopeful, somewhat awed voice in Donnie’s head smashes all other thoughts to pieces. His hands are by his chest, fingers fiddling as he tries to find the words. “You… Think I’m stronger than Casey?”

“Duh,” Raph puts in dryly. “I could kill that kid easy if I wanted to. ‘specially with super powers. Might actually have to break a sweat with you.” 

Donnie thinks that’s the closest thing to a compliment that he’s ever gotten from his brother and he wishes that he had something out and recording it.

“Also I think I’d want you dead first.” Mikey agrees, thoughtfully and seriously. “I mean, if I was evil and Casey kept showing up to thwart me, it’d be annoying and all, but I’d bet it’d really get in my head if I had to fight you all the time.” 

“He raises a good point.” Leo says, equal amounts thoughtful. “There are a lot of reasons to kill you, actually.” 

Donnie scoots his knee out from under his hand. 

Leo gives him a sheepish smile, adding on, “And none of them have anything to do with blaming you.”

“Because we don’t,” Raph ends with finality. “So stop making stuff up and be mad at us already.” 

Wiping at the corner of his eye, Donnie lifts his finger to point towards the roof. “If it wasn’t my fault a madman made you hurt me then it’s not your fault either.”

“I’m okay with those terms.” Leo says as Raph grumbles, “Fine, but you better not be repressing anything or I will terrorize you with a tornado myself.”

Leo raises an eye ridge. “Where are you going to get a tornado?” 

“You don’t know everything about me.” 

“I know enough to know you don’t have a tornado maker.” 

“So no one is mad at anyone?” Mikey cuts in. “And I can hug Donnie now?” 

“Yes, and…” Leo looks at Donnie. Donnie lifts an arm. Then he gets a solid tackle against the back of the couch before Mikey leans against his plastron with a happy little sigh. He hunkers down with him, thankful for the grounding weight, listening to their brothers bickering in the background.

Mikey eyes them, muttering, “Are you really okay now?” 

The acid taste lingers in his mouth, his arm stings where Mikey’s shell is digging against the bandage, and he knows that for the next few days, he’s going to have to watch his brothers kill him without batting an eye, again and again.

But, only ever in his dreams.

Because that blade is far, far away from his family. He made sure of that. 

“Yeah,” He breathes around the pressure in his chest. “Everything’s okay now.”