Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Thunder rolled across the midnight sky over Manhattan, the ominous rumble strong enough to send tremors through the concrete jungle. Petrichor stained the night air. The city seemed to wait on the edge, holding it's breath, for the fury of the storm.

Raphael scrambled over the rooftops, praying he could make it home before the storm hit. He didn’t mind a little rain, no reptile did, but tonight was supposed to be a gale of ‘unseasonable strength and ferocity’. Least-ways, that’s what Donnie had said on the phone.

If they got half the rain that was expected, there was a fairly good chance the tunnels around the lair would become their own version of the white water rapids. Parts of the city might even lose power. No power, no elevator. Flooded tunnels, no sewer entry. Donnie had taken precautions to make sure that their home would be safe from the flood, but there might not be any getting in or out of the lair for several days while the water levels went back down. Master Splinter wanted his family home, together, and safe.

Apparently so did April.

Which was why Raph’s night out with Casey had been cut short, and he was now scrambling over rooftops to make it home before Mother Nature started throwing her little bitch fit. Only a few more blocks to go. He could do it. He could get underground before the heavens opened up and handed down the flood they had been promising all day. He could do it.

“I’m gonna make it!”

A shrill scream shattered the eerie stillness that had fallen over the city and the turtle skidded to a halt. Only to make an abrupt U-turn and race back the way he’d come when the shriek split the air again.

“Damn it!”

The cries were coming from an alley he’d jumped over only moments before on his madcap race for home. Thunder rolled ominously as he peered down into the ravine between the two buildings, and realized that the scream wasn’t human. A third cry echoed up out of the alley, bouncing off the brick walls. Amber gold eyes narrowed as he peered down into the darkness.

It was a dead end, littered with the usual assortment of refuse he’d come to expect, overflowing from dumpsters that had reached their limit eons ago. The building across from him seemed to be some sort of mechanical shop, using the alley as their own personal scrapyard. Raph made a mental note to tell Don about this place, they could never have too many places to scavenge for the hardware Don needed. One particular pile in the back corner was exceptionally tall, and it was here that the usually hot headed teen’s attention had been drawn. Laying on it’s side in amongst the rubbish was a motionless form. It suddenly lunged, and another cry rang out, before it sank back down to lay motionless once more. Raph glanced at the thunderheads. It would hold just little bit longer.

He hoped.

Praying that he was right, the terrapin scrambled silently down the fire escape. Now on ground level, he could hear frightened whines and pain filled whimpers from the alley’s sole other occupant. Callused feet carried him soundlessly over broken glass and pitted concrete, nimbly skirting around the scattered garbage that would’ve tripped up a less skilled man. His quarry didn’t know he was there until he was a little less than ten feet away.

It was a dog.

Dark eyes stared back at fiery amber from the foul smelling pile, wide and terrified. The dog went still, watching the newcomer warily. Raph forced a smile, fumbling out his shell cell.

“Hey there fella.” He mumbled, flipping the cell open for what meager light it provided.

He scooted closer, playing the glow over the mess. The dog had been scavenging the pile, Raph could see where it had torn into this or dug out that. He could also see where the pile had shifted, sending the animal sliding down to its current resting place.

“Oh shell…”

Twisted, broken, and rusted out metal cradled the dog, several pieces stained crimson. Red gleamed up at him from the puddle slowly growing at his feet. It had to’ve only just happened. Raph shook his head. The dog had landed belly down. It was hard to see through the fur but it looked like the sharp mess had all but shredded it, and its struggles had only made the injuries worse. Lord only knew what sort of harm he'd done his insides with all that thrashing. Gut wounds were always the worst.

He grimaced. Even if he'd known where to go, there really wasn't anywhere he could take the poor mutt. It was late, well past midnight. None of the shelters would be open at this hour, and even if he managed to get a hold of someone and convince them to open up their practice, the dog would be long dead by the time they got there. Squatting there in the squalor, he knew with an absolute certainty that the easiest thing he could do for the both of them would be to put it out of its misery.

A soft whimper and warmth on his fingers pulled his attention back.

The mutt gave another quiet whine and stretched out to nose his hand, gazing up at him with pleading eyes. He fondled the dog’s ear, earning the smallest of tail wags and a quick lick for his trouble. The mutt stretched out a leg to paw at him, leaning harder into the caress at the same time and closing its eyes.

“Damn it.”

Thunder rumbled again, and the heavens finally deigned to open up and dump the rain they had been promising for hours now. Raph glared at the sky, as if it had personally offended him, then turned amber gold eyes back to the mutt. He gave a low growl and stood, fetching a worn and ratty piece of burlap from a dumpster. Wrapping it around the dog, he carefully gathered it up as gently as he could.

“Screw easy. I can’t kill ya, an’ I ain’t leavin’ ya out here ta die in the rain.” The dog whimpered and he hushed it, more gentleness than he would generally allow coming to the surface as he slipped through the shadows at ground level. “Shhh…. It’s alright. I ain’t gonna hurt ya. I’m gonna take ya home and make my brother patch ya up. You’ll be ok.”

The dog settled, letting him carry it where he pleased. But he could still feel it trembling, could feel the jump and tense of muscle under his hand when too much pressure was applied to an injury, or when he wasn’t gentle enough in his handling. And each time he felt it tense he mumbled something that he hoped sounded reassuring.

He was almost home before it occurred to him that he could’ve said anything and the dog wouldn’t have known the difference so long as he said it soothingly.

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At last he stumbled into the warehouse, soaked, cold and exhausted.

The rain beat down on the old tin roof with the rolling rumble of an army on horseback, drowning out the dog’s whimpers and even his own labored breathing as he trudged the last few steps into the elevator and leaned his shell back against the wall. He was going to sleep for a month after tonight. The elevator stopped moving and he braced himself, knowing he was going to get an earful as soon as those doors opened.

Leo didn’t disappoint.

“Raph! Where have you been? Casey said you left for home two hours ago! And then when we tried to call you didn’t answer your phone! Donnie couldn’t get a lock on the signal with the storm and…”

As suddenly as it had started, Leo’s tirade ground to a screeching halt and he stared at his brother in horror. Raph was coated in a fresh flow of blood all down the front of his plastron, sliding down his legs and dribbling along his arms. He was clutching something fairly large against his red stained chest with both arms, his skin pale.

He looked dead on his feet.

Years of training and experience suddenly kicked in and the eldest turtle leaped into action. “Donnie! Get the first aid kit, Raph’s hurt! Mikey, get your shell over here and help me get him to the infirmary! Now!”

The youngest turtle flew over the back of the couch and sprinted to the elevator, his immediate older brother making a beeline for the infirmary. Leo was already helping Raph out of the elevator, and Mikey was quick to slide in on the other side. The warmth of the lair and his brothers wrapped around Raphael, heating up his cold blood and helping him wake up a bit. He muzzily shook his head.

“Guys… guys, I’m fine. I’m just cold.Cold and tired.”

Mikey snorted, flinging open the door to the infirmary and helping Leo hustle Raph through it. “Hate to break it to you dude, but you’re like, covered in blood! Fountains of blood! You’re definitely hurt! Now be a good little turtle and let Doctor Donnie fix you up. Leo’ll put you to bed, and I can read you a bedtime story, and if you’re really good Master Splinter might bring you a glass of warm milk and tuck you in! And…”

Raph planted his feet and cut in on his brother’s frantic babbling. “Will you shut the shell up? I’m tellin’ ya, I’m fine! I ain’t the one bleedin’ it’s the darn mutt!”

“Mutt? What mutt?!” Mikey yelled right back.

“What do you mean you’re not bleeding, you’re getting blood everywhere!” Donatello’s voice grated against Mikey’s as he came bustling over and tried to help manhandle his brother onto the exam table.

“QUIET!”

All sounds and movement in the lair ceased. Leonardo took a deep breath, and slowly let it out.
He could tell Raph was waking up a bit, he was way more alert than he had been. Too alert for someone who had lost as much blood as Raph supposedly had. That and he was fighting them. None of them liked being on that table, but none of them ever fought back physically either. They'd grumble and fuss, but they knew Donnie was only trying to help them, and so they always sat still.

Except for Mikey when he needed a shot, but that was a whole other issue.

“Everyone calm down a little. Clearly we're missing something here.” He looked the hot head in the eye. “Raph?”

His little brother shrugged, shifting his hold on his soggy, bloody bundle. “I'm not hurt Leo, I'm fine! It's this mutt who's all banged up. I couldn't just leave ‘im out there! I figured maybe Donnie could do somethin’, an’ I'd take him to the shelter afterwards.”

“You brought home a dog! And you guys say I’m bad about bringing home strays! ...Dude! What’s Sensei going to say?!”

“Raph, with that much blood loss is it even still alive? And what makes you think I know anything about dogs? I…”

“GUYS!”

Leo shook his head as three sets of eyes snapped back to him. Honestly, sometimes it was like his brothers were still toddlers. The oldest turtle carefully took the soggy bundle from Raph. It didn’t weigh half as much as he would’ve expected it to, given the size. Probably half starved on top of being hurt.

More than likely a stray.

“Give him to me Raph. Donnie, grab what you need. Might as well do what we can. Mikey, take Raphael out of here. He needs a hot shower, food, and sleep. See to it that he gets them, in that order please.” His brothers stared at him. Clearly they hadn’t expected this response. “Guys. Move!”

He didn’t have to tell them again.

Donatello became all business, quickly laying out the tools and supplies he would need with the efficiency of long experience and even more practice. Needles, silk, scalpels, and clamps. All laid out neatly.

Leo laid the animal on the table and pulled the ratty old burlap away. A second set of hands joined him, and he wasn’t at all surprised to see Raphael disobeying his orders and staying to help. Despite his very obvious exhaustion. Leo rolled his eyes and returned his attention to their new guest.

The mutt was still alive.

He was filthy and blood stained, and unconscious. But he was alive. His flanks still rose and fell in swift, shallow little gasps. Under the harsh fluorescent lights of Donnie’s lab come infirmary, he looked even worse than he had in the alley. Scruffy and thin, missing patches of fur that had apparently been torn out, the dog sported several scars in various stages of healing. Underneath all of the dirt and grime, it was almost impossible to tell what color it had been originally. Maybe brown?

Raph laid a hand on the dog’s shoulder. “Shell, pooch. You really messed yerself up.”

Donnie bustled around and gently hip-checked Raphael out of the way. “Go shower Raph, you’re covered in germs. You’ll just be in the way here. Leo, go wash your hands, I’m going to need some help.”

A smile pulled at Leo’s lips as he headed for the sink. “Go on Raph.” He called over his shoulder, doing his best to reassure his sibling. “You’ve done your part. Now it’s our turn. Besides.” He smirked. “I’m sure Master Splinter will be wanting an explanation once you’ve showered and eaten.”

True to form, the hot head snorted and stomped out the door without another backwards glance, Mikey at his heels.

Leo took a deep breath and headed back to the table. He hated this. Poking around in someone else’s guts. At a logical level, he knew that it would be beneficial in the long run, but he couldn’t help the fact that assisting with surgery like this always left him unsettled and sometimes even queasy. He didn’t understand how Donnie did it. Much less be fascinated by it!

Across the table Donnie heaved a long suffering sigh and set to work. “Might as well see what Raph’s given us to work with….scalpel please….”

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Leo grimaced.

In the years since he and his brothers had started patrolling topside, they’d had their fair share of injuries. Thankfully, most hadn’t required surgery. But of those that had, unless he was the patient, Leo had stood in as Donnie’s tool jockey. And yes, after long debate ‘tool jockey’ was they term they had settled on. Raph had been the first one to have to do the job, and had discovered that he didn’t like being called a ‘nurse’. Mostly because of all the bad nurse jokes Mikey had made as soon as he’d gotten the chance. Honestly, as ridiculous as the phrase sounded, Raph was happy to have any other title that put an end to Mikey’s teasing.

Having heard the merciless teasing when he woke up after the surgery, Leo couldn’t help but agree with Raph.
He rubbed the back of his neck. He was tired. It shouldn’t be so exhausting to stand next to a table for a few hours, hand Donnie whatever he needed, and occasionally put his hand in to hold something out of the way. He shuddered at the thought.

Yeah, his dreams were not going to be pleasant tonight.

“How’s the pooch?”

Oh, right. Raph. Leo smiled. His younger brother played it tough, but he had a soft heart. Raph had little to no emotional attachment to this dog. But here he was, camped out on the living room couch with Mikey asleep on his chest. Waiting for word of the animal he couldn’t leave to die in the rain. He leaned on the back of their worn but much loved old couch.

“I guess Mikey misunderstood. I’m fairly sure I told him to put you to bed.”

Raph loosed an undignified snort. “Yeah right Fearless, and pigs can fly.... Ya didn’t answer my question. How’s the pooch? ...Did he make it?”

Leo sighed. Some days he hated being the oldest. Having to be the one to pass along the bad news sucked. “Yeah, he’s alive. He’s holding on for now, but Donnie’s not sure if that’ll last. Or for how long. He lost a lot of blood, and he was pretty weak and underfed to start with. We’ll do our best bro. But he still might not make it. We just have to wait and see.”

Raph leaned his head back against the armrest of their dilapidated couch, oddly proud of the mutt for hanging on.

Mikey mumbled against his chest, nuzzling into the crook of Raphael’s neck. Both of the older terrapins made mock disgusted faces when he promptly proceeded to drool onto the dark emerald skin. Leo gave a soft laugh and produced a cloth from his belt, wiping the mess away. He usually reserved the cloth for drying his katanas after a cleaning or being caught in the rain. But, for a good cause…

“Thanks.” Raph gave Mikey an irritated look. “Chucklehead.” He grumbled affectionately.

“Maybe.” Leo agreed. “But he wouldn't be Mikey if he wasn't.” He checked to make sure that Mikey wasn't going to drool any further, then tucked a corner of the soggy cloth into his belt. He'd drop it in the laundry and grab a clean one on the way to bed. “Do you want me to help get him to bed, or are you good?”

“I'm good. Sides, if we wake ‘im up we'll just have ta listen to ‘im whine about it tonight and all a tomorrow too.”

That earned him a laugh and a nod. He and Leo might be at each others throats a lot, but it didn't change the little moments like this, where they were brothers first and foremost, and everything else paled in comparison. He watched as the eldest turned to leave, then called after him.

“Leo?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

The smile Leo gave him this time was softer, in some way. His smiles were never false, but ones like these were more genuine in a way that no one could ever quite lay a finger on. They said that he understood what his brothers hadn't said. Raphael hadn't put him in an easy position by bringing home that dog. In Master Splinter’s absence, Leo was the head of the clan. The decision to take care of the dog was all Leonardo’s, and if Master Splinter was upset about it Leo would share in the blame with Raphael. It was yet another responsibility Raph had not so much asked him to take as he had dumped on his head. But the leader had shouldered the responsibility gracefully. It would've been well within his right to refuse.

“You're welcome. Night Raph.”

“Night Fearless.”

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Donatello sighed.

It had taken longer than he'd feared to get the dog patched up. In starting in on the surgery, he'd been pleased to find that the majority of the damage had been done at the surface. Skin, fat, muscle; all had suffered enormous harm. But the body cavity and the fragile organs it housed had escaped the extensive injury the rest of the mutt had taken. The ribs had certainly done their job. The organs weren't damage free by any means, and it had been grueling work to repair them. Between injury and blood loss, Donnie was fairly impressed that the dog had made it.

He settled down beside his new patient.

Long jagged lines of stitches criss crossed the dog’s belly. “I've got to say, stitching you up was a job and a half.” He frowned. Muttering an apology, he lifted one of the mutt’s hind legs and peered at the vulnerable lower belly underneath. “Male.” He muttered to himself.

He put the dog's leg down and picked up a wet cloth. The dog was absolutely filthy, and Donnie hadn't had any time to get him clean before surgery. He'd had to dive right it. He was fairly sure he'd heard a surgeon on TV refer to it as ‘meatball surgery’, the only goal being to keep the patient alive. Nothing pretty. He had the dog on an iv now, giving him pain meds and antibiotics. It would've been better if he'd had blood to replace what he'd lost, but with the storm raging on outside this was the best Donnie could do. He'd have to get the dog as clean as he could with a rag and water, and keep a sharp eye on him for infection.

He heaved a tired groan and set to work again.

It never failed. Standing in place and working with his hands wouldn't normally tire him out like this. But the pressure of the situation kept him tense, to the point that actually putting in that final stitch and stepping away from the table was such a relief that it left him physically drained. If the way Leo was shaking himself out when he left was any indication, apparently being Donnie’s “tool jockey’ wasn't any less stressful.

He hated to make Leo do it.

Leonardo’s iron control was a fantastic mask, but Donnie could tell that it bothered him. It was in his eyes at the end of every surgery, that quiet knowledge that he wouldn't sleep well that night. But he was the best choice for the job. He handed Don the correct instrument on the first try, and his hands were always steady. Both qualities he needed in a dicey surgery like to tonight. Raph and Mikey tried their best, but Donnie still had to put the tools in color coded bins to help them out, and Mikey actually had to bolt for a garbage can to throw up his supper that time that Leo had been thrown in front of a car. Raph had been missing at the time, and thus hadn't been the one handing over the tools. They'd never asked Master Splinter to do this. Seeing his son's insides couldn't be very high on any parent’s wish list.

That, and Don dreaded the thought of trying to keep hair from his father’s thick pelt out of the open wounds.

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The dog slept all through the night, and most of the next two days.

It worried them, but Don assured them that it wasn't surprising. He needed the rest to heal. Still, he worried just as much, if not more than his brothers did. He knew more about medicine. He had a better idea of what could go wrong. And so he checked on his patient every hour on the dot, carefully monitoring his vitals for any sign of infection or complication. It wouldn’t have been possible if practice hadn’t been cancelled for the first day, and Donnie was allowed to leave practice to check on his patient in the days that followed. Donnie couldn’t begin to express how grateful he was for that small blessing, especially after the long nights he’d put in. But for the life of him, he couldn’t fathom how Master Splinter had been talked into it. Not that he didn’t like animals. In times of plenty when the turtles were small they had often seen him give a scrap or two to the strays he happened across out on a supply run in the sewers. But at the same time, he had never been overly pleased when one of them brought home an animal and asked if they could keep it as a pet.

Master Splinter, though not exactly pleased by the presence of their new house guest, accepted the situation with surprising equanimity. The storm had intensified on the surface. Though they had yet to lose power, the city above had all but shut down. Only the most stoic or foolish of humans would be out and about today. Even if he would have allowed his sons to go topside in this storm, which he wouldn’t, there most likely wouldn’t have been anyone at the shelter to take care of the dog. And it would be cruel to cast it out into the rain once more. The dog would never survive. No. Until they could place the dog in the hands of someone more qualified to care for it, the dog would remain here.

Speaking of the dog…

Splinter rose and left his room. It was high time that he went to see this animal that had set his home and family into such chaos. Out in the main lair, his sons were going about their daily lives.

Michelangelo was on the couch watching the TV, his cat Klunk on his lap. Splinter still wasn’t sure how he had been talked into letting the cat into his home. After all the trouble he’d had with cats throughout his life as a rat, the last thing he had ever thought to do would be grant his son a feline companion. But the little orange kitten and grown up into a large tabby tom cat under his roof, and had been absolutely devoted to Michelangelo. So the rat had decided to live and let live.

As long as Klunk didn’t bother him, he could stay.

Raphael wasn’t quite at his usual. He was sitting back to back with Leonardo on the rug, a magazine about motorcycles propped on his drawn up knees while Leonardo meditated. If Raphael’s presence bothered his elder brother, Leonardo gave no sign of it. If the little smile on his face was any indication, it didn’t bother him in the slightest. Every now and again Raphael would chuckle at something he read and would murmur to Leonardo, prompting a larger smile and a nod to let Raphael know he had heard.

Splinter peered into the infirmary.

Donatello was looking at the stitches in the dog’s belly. They looked good. No sign of infection so far. The purple clad turtle smirked. Well, that was one advantage to living in a sewer. You learned how to keep cuts clean no matter what. He traced his hand along the mutt’s flank. He would still need a bath when his wounds would allow it, but he was as clean as Donatello could make him for the moment. And now at last his true colors could show through.
He was beautiful.

He had a black saddle pattern running from his shoulders all the way down his spine to about halfway along his tail, draping down his sides to cover his ribs as well. A pale golden tan edged the black; marking his hips, shoulders, tail, and cheeks. Black ringed his eyes and dribbled little lines down either side of his muzzle, and his ears were solid with the color. But what really made him striking? Pure snow white fur. It ran around his neck in a thick ruff, and coated his neck, chest, the entirety of his forelegs, his belly, the insides of his hind legs, his back paws, and the majority of his tail. A stripe of it ran down his forehead to completely coat his muzzle, completing the look.

A small movement caught his eye. The dog’s tale had moved! His eyes snapped up to the dog’s face.
The mutt watched him, curiously flicking an ear his way. Donnie offered his hand for the animal to sniff. He held his breath, hoping that the pain of the dog’s injuries wouldn’t make him aggressive enough to savage his hand. But the mutt did no such thing. He politely sniffed at the offered hand, wagged his tail a little more strongly this time, and gave Donnie’s hand the smallest of licks. The turtle relaxed, a smile warming his face.

“Hey boy.” He murmured. “You gave us all quite a scare. You feeling better?”

The dog made a contented noise and gave that tiny tail wag once again. He was warm for the first time in a long time, and even though his tummy still hurt, instinct still told him he was safe.

These strange turtle humans wouldn’t do him any harm.

Donatello moved his hand up to scratch behind the mutt’s ear, laughing when the dog made an appreciative groan and leaned into the attention as hard as his weakened body would allow. He whined when Don took his hand away, but that was short lived when he realized that Don was offering him a small dish of food. Donnie shook his head as he watched the dog dig in with gusto, ravenous after sleeping for two days. He scratched behind the ears again.

“Well, you’re definitely a fighter, I’ll give you that.”

Silence fell over the lab like a comfortable, well worn blanket. The kind that has been patched, and has strings hanging off of it, but you don’t care and love it all the more because it is so warm and well loved. Don’s machines beeped and hummed softly, and they could hear Mikey out in the lair laughing at the TV, but it didn’t detract from the silence. After the food was finished, water was offered and accepted in much the same manner. Afterwards when Donnie lifted the mutt off of the bed and placed him on the well newspapered area he had set aside for the animal’s bathroom use, the dog surprised Don by standing on his own, and taking the few steps necessary to return to the low cot and climb back in by himself afterwards.

“Definitely a fighter.” The turtle laughed, sitting down on the cot by his patient and checking the stitches again, just to be sure. “We need to find a proper name for you. We can’t just keep calling you ‘dog’, ‘mutt’, or ‘pooch’... Don’t worry, I’ll think of something. No matter where you end up, it won’t be as a Fido or a Rover. I promise.”

Splinter shook his head and moved away from the door. Names now. He hoped this storm wouldn’t keep them contained down here too long, his son was becoming attached to the animal, and it would make it all the harder when the time came to turn it over to the shelter.

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The storm kept up for another week.

In that time, the lair fell into a rhythm. Now that the worst of the danger was over, Donatello no longer had to check the dog every hour. Seeing to the dog’s needs was the first thing he did each day, then to his own needs second. He participated fully during practice, and afterwards he checked on the dog again. He never once had to clean the cot. Once he had been shown where he was to go, the dog took himself to his ‘potty corner’ as the turtles had dubbed it. Don never once had to carry him after that first day. After practice, and a shower, Don would feed the dog and join his family for lunch. Then he would retreat to the lab/infirmary to check on his patient again and work on his projects, the mutt a comforting presence against the wall.

After three days of being awake, the dog began to move around a little more.

At first Donnie was afraid that he would pull his stitches, but he seemed to understand that he couldn’t move quickly right now, and that he needed to take it slow. And so Don allowed him to explore, keeping an eye on him and gently shooing him away from areas he shouldn’t be or things he shouldn’t touch. For his first day on his feet, he was content to amble at a snail’s pace around the lab, nose questing and ears pricking. But the next day saw him standing at the lab door expectantly, looking back at Don as if to say ‘Well?’.

So, Don let him out into the lair.

Again, he watched him closely at first, guiding him away from areas and items he wasn’t to enter or touch. And just like in the lab, he soon found that the mutt was a quick learner. He stayed away from the pool in the center of the lair, and he avoided the dojo and Master Splinter’s rooms. He lay against the kitchen wall during breakfast. And when it came time for practice, he moved himself out into the main lair and settled gingerly against the back of the couch where he could see without being in the way. He returned to the lab with Don after lunch and settled back on his cot, and followed him back out again at dinner. He always returned to the lab and his ‘potty corner’ when he needed to, and he alway came right back afterwards. He seemed determined to keep Donatello in his sights at all times. No one was really surprised when the dog laid claim to the rug by Don’s bed six days after waking up.

One week changed into two.

Now the problem was no longer a storm, or a lack of humans at the shelter. Now it was the fact that there were too many humans on the streets around the warehouse they used as a garage. The storm had caused a lot of damage, and construction crews were working around the clock to get the city back in working order. Meanwhile, the sewers were still flooded. They were just as trapped as they’d been while the storm had raged on over their heads. And the dog. The dog continued to follow Donny everywhere.

They were nearing the end of the second week shut in when things finally came to a head.

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April scrambled to answer her phone. “Hello?”

“April? Hey, it’s Leo.”

She smiled, settling back down onto her couch. It was good to hear from them again, cell phone connection had been pretty patchy during the storm, and the city of new york was still hard at work repairing the damage to several of the towers. Leo’s voice was clear and well defined, he must have been using the hardline Don had installed in the lair for occasions like this.

Well, occasions like this and to make their technologically challenged rat master’s life a little easier. He had a shell cell just like the rest of them, but for whatever reason he just couldn’t seem to get the knack of using it. Don tried to make it as user friendly as possible, but Splinter still managed to accidentally hang up on them as often as not. Or unwittingly put it on silent. Now they usually called them landline if they wanted to get a hold of him. All he had to do was pick it up, and it was impossible to silence the loud obnoxious ring.

“Hey Leo, long time no see!” Worry flitted across her mind, this was the first she’d heard from them since the storm. “Is everyone ok? The lair didn’t flood did it?”

“No, no, nothing like that! We’re all fine. Don’s precautions kept the lair completely dry, we haven’t had a leak yet. And Raph made it back the first night just fine. We do need some help from you and Casey though.”

Worry trailed cold fingers down her spine. Her family had shrunk down to almost nothing in her adult years, and for the most part the turtles and their father were the closest thing she had to family. As far as she was concerned, they were her family, and she would do anything to help her brothers out in any way she could. Her tone became all business. “Name it.”

Leonardo almost sounded embarrassed. “Well, you see, the sewers are still flooded. We can’t open the sewer entrance without flooding the lair.”

She frowned and started pulling on her boots. “What about the elevator? Is it not working? Casey and I can salvage any parts Don needs to get it up and running again. Just give me a list of what you need.”

Leo’s voice was becoming more embarrassed by the second. “Um… that’s not the problem either…”

She paused. It took a lot to make Leo self-conscious about anything. “Leo?”

“...we um...we can’t use the elevator because of the construction workers.”

“What?”

The eldest turtle heaved a sigh and finally came clean. “They’re camped out all around our warehouse trying to fix something or other that broke in the storm. Whatever it is that broke must’ve been pretty important because they’re working around the clock. They’ve got us surrounded and the place is lit up like a christmas tree. We can’t get out without being spotted, even Master Splinter agrees.”

April couldn’t help it. She started giggling.

“It’s not funny April! We’ve been pinned down for almost a week, and we were cooped up for another eight days before that because of the storm! Raph is going stir crazy and if I hear one more ‘Mother Hubbard’ joke from Mikey about the cupboards being bare I’ll deck him myself!”

“So what you’re saying is that you need Casey and me to make a supply run and somehow waltz past the construction workers as if we own the place.” April giggled.

“Essentially.”

She nodded, pinning her phone between her shoulder and her ear as she stood and reached for her coat and purse. “Alright. Hang tight and I’ll see what I can do. We’ll be over as soon as we can, and we’ll bring dinner with us. Sound good?”

“That sounds awesome. We really appreciate this April.”

He sounded so tired, and his gratitude so heartfelt, she wondered how bad the cabin fever had gotten down in the lair. “Not a problem. You know I’d do anything for you guys. A grocery run is the least I can do. I…”

“Hold that thought April.”

She waited. She could hear someone else in the background, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that one of the other turtles was making a request for the supply run. She smiled and quietly hummed to herself, starting to jot down a shopping list to feed for hungry turtles and a rat. She’d have to get Casey to bring his station wagon. The turtles could go through a fair amount of food in a short amount of time, there was no way they could lug that many groceries on foot past a bunch of construction workers and not be noticed, and even the thought of trying to get the two of them and said mountain of groceries onto Casey’s bike was beyond ludicrous.

“Ok Don, I got it! I’ll make sure she picks some up.”

April pricked up her ears. She’d been expecting it to be Mikey, requesting a new issue from his favorite comic book, or maybe a movie rental. What could Don possible want? A smile curled her lips. He probably needed a part. And he’d been told in no uncertain terms by Master Splinter that under no circumstances was he to cannibalize the toaster oven again.

“What parts does he need Leo?” She asked.

“What? Oh! No, he doesn’t need any parts, he was just hoping you could pick him up a good size bag of dog food while you were getting the groceries. He said a large bag would be preferable.”

April blinked. That definitely wasn’t what she’d been expecting. “Um, ok. How much dog food are we talking here?”

“Probably about as large a bag as you can get your hands on.” Leo answered dryly.

“Ok….” She started scribbling on her shopping list again. “Um...did he have a specific brand or age group in mind? They change the ingredients depending on the age group you know.”

“He didn’t specify a brand. But adult dog food should be fine.”

“...should I ask why he wants a large amount of adult dog food?”

On the other end, Leonardo heaved a tired sigh. “It’s a long story.”

“So don’t ask. Got it.” She grabbed up her shopping list and tucked it into her purse. “Alright, I’m heading out. I’ll be there with Casey as soon as I can. Tell the natives that if they can keep their restlessness under control until I get there I’ll bring a surprise.”

“April?”

She paused. “Yes?”

“You’re the best.”

“I know.” She giggled and bid him goodbye. As soon as he’d hung up, she hit her sixth speed dial and put her phone back to her ear. It picked up on the third ring.

“Hey babe, what’s up?”

“Grab your keys Casey. Seems the Hamatos need a grocery run before Mikey drives them all insane with his Mother Hubbard jokes.”

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April huffed out a breath as the elevator doors slid open to the lair.

It had been surprisingly easy to bluff their way past the construction workers. They had pulled up in Casey’s station wagon and she had told the foreman that she was a grad student at one of the local universities. She had rented the warehouse for an engineering project, and she needed to get in to make sure that it hadn’t been damaged by the storm. She had to get back to work on it soon, as it was more than half of her final grade! The foreman had been suspicious at first, but a glance in the back of Casey’s station wagon at all the parts stacked in boxes on his back seat and the fact that she had the key to the warehouse had been enough to convince him that she was telling the truth. He let them through and promised that he would alert the day shifts that they were to let her through as well.

No one had given them a second glance.

She made sure all the windows inside the warehouse were covered, and locked the door from the inside to make sure no one could see the elevator leading down to the lair, then she and Casey proceeded to unload the groceries and faerie them all over into the elevator. That way they wouldn’t have to make several trips up and down, they just had to get the guys to help them get all the boxes out at the bottom. It had been a stroke of genius on Casey’s part to put all the bits and pieces of machinery on top of the groceries to hide them. It had added just the right touch of believability to her story.

“Guys?” She called as they stepped out, arms laden with boxes.

“Yo fellas! Where ya at?” Casey yelled beside her.

A sudden snarl made them whirl, dropping their boxes. A large black, white, and tan gold dog was slowly stalking toward them, teeth bared and hackles raised. April immediately backed up several steps. The dog snarled and snapped, every line declaring that they had exactly three seconds to vacate his territory, and that he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

One way or another, they were leaving.

Casey scooped up a tie rod from one of the fallen boxes, brandishing it like a baseball bat. “Alright ya ugly mutt! I don’t know what you’re doing here, but we was invited, an’ we ain’t leaving till we seen our bros an’ given’ ‘em their grub! So ya can back off right now an’... Aghhhh!!!”

The dog attacked hard and fast, darting in under Casey’s defense and bowling him over as if he were nothing. Strong sharp teeth fastened on the jacket covered arm holding the rod and dug in, trying to shake loose his grip on his weapon. Casey yelled and swore, raining blows with his free hand down on the dog's head, trying to dislodge him. The dog only growled louder and doubled his efforts.

“TUNGSTEN! Stand down! NOW!”

The dog immediately released Casey’s arm and backed away, hackles still raised and ears pinned back, but no longer snarling.

Donnie was at their side in seconds, squatting down by Casey and yanking back his sleeve. Casey’s arm was red, and would no doubt have some fairly impressive bruising on it tomorrow. The tall, dark haired man was shaken, but bruises seemed to be as far as his injuries went. The purple clad turtle heaved a sigh of relief and sat back, thumping down on the floor beside his friend, the rest of the turtles gathered round behind him.

“Shell, I thought he’d really hurt you.” He breathed, running a hand over his face. He reached out for the dog. The mutt wagged his plumed tail, and immediately came to him. He whined happily, thrusting his head insistently under Donnie’s hand with all the enthusiasm of a young puppy. Donnie laughed, rubbing the dog's ears and scratching along his shoulders.

April settled against one of the massive pillars, folding her arms. “Well, I guess now we know why Donnie wanted a giant bag of dog food. Though it would've been nice to know you had a guard dog Leo.”

The eldest turtle blushed and ducked his head under the withering hairy eyeball she was sending his way. “Sorry April.” He offered contritely. He gestured at the dog.

“We never dreamed he'd go after you like that! Up till now Donnie’s shadow has been as quiet and gentle as a rabbit. We didn't… wait, Don, what did you call him?”

The resident genius looked up in surprise. “Tungsten.”

“Don, at what point did you name the dog?”

“What? I've been calling him Tungsten since that first week. Why? Is there a problem?”

Mikey clutched his head dramatically and began to wildly gesticulate in the air. “Donnie, you're not supposed to name it. Once you name it, you start getting attached to it! Now put that thing back where it came from, OR SO HELP ME!” He trailed off, grinning from ear to ear at his incredulous family. “...I always wanted to do that. But seriously Donnie, don't put it back, he's actually gotten you out of your lab more often than usual.”

Donatello rolled his eyes. “Gee Mike, thanks. Sorry he jumped you Casey. Are you alright?”

The large man grinned and offered his hand to Tungsten. The mutt wagged his tail. He wasn't as enthusiastic as he'd been with Donnie, but now that he'd been assured these new humans were ok he was more than happy to make some new friends. And the big human knew a thing or two about dogs! He knew exactly which itchy spots to go after. Casey laughed as Tungsten leaned into his scratching fingers. “Nah, he ain't so bad. He was just protectin’ ‘is home is all. Don't worry Donnie, he didn't hurt me none. An’...Hey! What's with all the embroidery on ‘is belly?”

So, the tale was unfolded while they unloaded the groceries. How Raph had found Tungsten in the alley with his belly torn open, and had carried him home. About the scare that they'd given the other turtles. About Donnie’s midnight surgery, and the days that had followed. And about the way Tungsten had become Donnie’s shadow, following him from room to room, and always keeping him in sight.

“Well, as dogs go it sounds like ya go a good one Donnie.” Casey told his friend, clapping him on the shell.

Don beamed. “I know I did. Tungsten is …”

Mikey’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “DUDES, SHE BROUGHT PIZZA!!!”

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Master Splinter smiled as he watched his small family from the kitchen door as they and their friends inhaled their pizza. Well, three of his sons anyway. He flicked an ear back, smiling as Leonardo came up behind him.

“My son?”

“You’re going to let Donnie keep him aren't you?” He nodded towards the dog laying quietly at his younger brother’s feet. The two smiled when they saw Don slip a hand under the table and give Tungsten a small piece of pizza.

“Yes.”

His son glanced curiously at him. “Why? I mean, I'm glad, I don't think either of them would stand for it if we tried to separate them. But I thought I'd have to work hard to convince you to let Donnie’s shadow stay. What changed you're mind?”

“I have known since the first day he stepped from the lab on his own.” The elderly rat motioned to the newest member of the family. “Look at him my son. See the way he watches Donatello. I know that look all too well. There is no force on earth that could separate them now.” He shook his head at his son's questioning glance and cast a sad wistful smile.

“I know that look, because I used to gaze at my Master Yoshi in the same way. No my son. I lost my master. I will not take his master from him.”

In the kitchen, Donatello glanced up from slipping Tungsten another piece of pizza and met the eyes of his father and elder brother. He froze, caught in the act. Splinter smiled, and gave the smallest of nods. For a moment, Don gazed back, confused. Then Splinter and Leonardo’s smiles clicked and he stared from them to Tungsten and back in astonishment. They smiled wider still, and nodded again. Don felt certain that his face would split in half, cheeks aching with how wide he was smiling. But he only nodded his thanks, and slipped his dog another bite of Pizza under the table.

For his part, Tungsten didn't understand everything that was going on around him, but he understood that his young master was happy. And so he wagged his tail as hard as he could and licked the cheese and grease off Donatello’s fingers.

(The inspiration for Tungsten)

Chapter Text

He’d been in the lair for four weeks.

Four weeks. Four weeks since Raphael had brought Tungsten home, and the stray had all but adopted his younger brother Donnie. Tungsten had definitely made himself at home in the lair.

Signs of his presence could be seen all throughout turtles’ home. A pair of bowls were on permanent display by the wall in an out of the way corner of the kitchen. A large plastic tub full of kibble had taken up residence in the hollow between the kitchen cabinets and the wall. And a thin flannel blanket now constantly covered the cot in Donatello’s lab to keep it clean of dog hair in case he needed the bed for an injured brother.

Tungsten had been on his feet within days of arriving at the lair. And he had stuck to Donatello’s side as if he’d been superglued there ever since.

In the kitchen, Leo smiled and sipped his tea.

Having a dog was good for his little brother. After four weeks, Leo could definitely see the improvement. Don was out of his lab far more often than usual, almost on a regular schedule now. Donnie was eating regularly, and with the family! In the past Don ate sporadically, usually when his brothers insisted and more often than not in his lab. Now he would come out of the lab to feed Tungsten in the kitchen, and waiting for his dog to finish usually reminded him that he was hungry too.

Leo could see Donatello and Tungsten out in the main lair from his spot in the kitchen. In the past several days Tungsten had become more energetic. He was trotting along at Donnie’s side, his plumed tail wagging like mad and his dark eyes focused adoringly on his master’s face. Don just laughed and kept moving, one hand dropping down to play with his mutt’s ears. He’d told them that Tungsten’s energy levels would be coming back and that he would probably start being more active. His wounds were well on their way to becoming just another scar on a body that had far too many.

Don paused, spotting Leo in the kitchen. His eyes darted to the clock. “Leo? What are you doing up so late?”

The older turtle shrugged. “Meditation ran long. I didn’t realize how late it was until I came down for tea. How about you? What are you doing up?”

“Well, I was working on the security systems. Probably still be at it, but Tungsten’s tired and wouldn’t take no for an answer anymore.” He threaded his fingers through the dog’s thick ruff. “Kept yawning, and when I didn’t take the hint he got a bit more insistent. So. We’re heading to bed.”

Well, miracles never ceased.

Donatello often fell asleep in the lab, flopped over his desk, and usually balanced precariously on the edge of his wheeled office swivel chair. The one that seemed to be more duct tape than anything else. Since they’d gotten Tungsten, Don was usually in bed somewhere between one and two thirty a.m. Never any later than three. The dog had laid claim to the rug by Donnie’s bed, and he slept there every night. Provided Don was in the bed. Since he had laid claim to the rug, Tungsten had yet to spend a night anywhere else. He would nose, paw, whine, and once even nip his young master until Donatello took the hint and went to bed.

Leo hid his smirk in his coffee mug.

Three weeks without Don falling asleep in his lab once. It was more than Leonardo, Raphael, and Michelangelo had ever managed to do. They usually had to push, pull, threaten, and pester until he agreed to turn in, and then it was a fifty-fifty shot whether it would actually happen.

Leo stood and followed his brother upstairs. Tungsten was definitely having a good influence on Don.

Now they just had to introduce him to Klunk.

Michelangelo tossed a piece of popcorn up and caught it in his mouth.

At his side, his dark orange tabby was giving himself a bath on the couch. The turtle smirked and popped another buttery piece of popcorn. It seemed like forever ago that he had found Klunk on Christmas eve while foiling a purple dragon heist. The orange tabby kitten had been so tiny. A little animal so small that he could fit him in the palm of his callused green hand. Since then Klunk had grown into a big tomcat, and Mikey absolutely adored him.

He wondered how Klunk would react when he finally came face to face with Tungsten.

It had been interesting, trying to keep them apart. Given that they had both been strays, there was a very good chance that they wouldn’t get along. So, they had kept them apart for the time being. Klunk had been allowed to have the run of the lair for the first couple of days while Tungsten was unconscious and later bedridden. Now, Klunk came out while Tungsten was in the lab, up in Donnie’s bedroom, the the garage on the surface, or out in the sewer tunnels on a run. The rest of the time Klunk was in Mikey’s bedroom, giving run of the lair to the dog.

Klunk had been ok with the confinement at first, but Mikey could tell that Klunk was getting a little restless.

He scratched Klunk’s neck while he channel surfed. Currently Tungsten was out on a walk through the tunnels with Donnie. Had been for the past couple of hours. Mikey huffed. He didn’t like keeping Klunk cooped up all the time, but hopefully that would change soon. Donnie said that Tungsten’s wounds were healing well. Even if he decided to chase Klunk around the lair, there wasn’t much chance that he’d seriously hurt himself. So, hopefully soon they’d be able to introduce them. And hopefully the animals would be willing to coexist.

The sewer entrance grated open.

Mikey sighed and pulled Klunk into his lap. Probably not the best choice but it made him feel better. He stubbornly kept cuddling his cat. Donnie shuffled across the lair to the living area, Tungsten bouncing at his side.

Mikey smirked. “You have a good run dude?”

Don sighed. “How is it I can run all over New York city rooftops all night long with the best of them, but this dog can run the shell right off of me? I don’t get it. I… Tungsten NO!”

He was too late.

Tungsten had darted past his master’s legs and hopped directly up onto the couch to crawl into Mikey’s lap and greet him enthusiastically… except there was already a cat in Michelangelo’s lap.

The two turtles held their breath. Here came the moment of truth.

Klunk let off an irritable warning hiss as the dog tried to shove into the space that was his and his alone.

Tungsten cocked his head curiously, pricking his ears. He’d been able to smell the cat in the lair from the minute he’d woken up, but this was the first time he’d seen it. He crouched low, getting more on the cat’s eye level, and sniffed curiously at him. He’d met plenty of cat’s during his time on the streets, he knew how much cat claws to the nose could hurt. He was wary of letting his sensitive nose get too close.

Klunk flattened his ears, hackles standing up. He stared up at the dog as if he’d personally offended him. Wary and ready for anything, he lashed his tail furiously back and forth and raised his hackles even higher in warning. He’d met plenty of dogs when he’d been a tiny kitten without a home. Big or small, they’d all been larger than him. Some had been nice, but most hadn’t. In fact the majority of them had tried to eat him. He eyed the dog suspiciously. The dog was getting down to his eye level, and was maintaining a polite distance.

Maybe…?

Tungsten’s tail slowly began to wag. The cat hadn’t scratched him yet.

Klunk gave one last little warning growl and turned his back, curling up in Michelangelo’s lap and tucking his face into the crook of his arm. Mikey would never let the dog hurt him. He knew that. And while Donny often shooed Klunk out of the room with all the warm machines, the cat knew that there was affection there too. The turtles wouldn’t bring in something that would hurt him.

Tungsten huffed and sat back up as the cat in Mikey’s lap dismissed him. He licked Mikey’s cheek in greeting and returned to nuzzle his master. The two turtles stared at the animals. Then Mikey started to smile.

“So….does this mean Klunk isn’t on house arrest anymore?”

Don snorted and scratched his dog behind the ears. “Mikey, he’s a housecat. He’s always on house arrest.” His brother grinned unrepentantly and gave him an expectant look. Don sighed. “Yes Mikey, Klunk is off his house arrest.”

He couldn’t help but smile at his baby brother’s victory whoop.

“Guys! Dudes you gotta see this!”

While the exclamation itself wasn’t unusual, the whispered quality of it definitely was. Seriously, it was Mikey! Michelangelo didn’t do quiet, it just wasn’t in his nature! So, when he did something that out of character, you could bet he had his brother’s full and undivided attention.

“Mikey? What’s wrong?” Leo set down his book and stood.

The other two followed.

Michelangelo was standing at the kitchen door, stealthily peeking around the frame. His shoulders were shaking with silent laughter and he had his shell cell out and….wait. Was he filming? Yeah, he definitely had their attention now, anything Mikey found film worthy was something the others immediately sat up and took notice of. Usually because it was hysterical and or blackmail material.

Sometimes both.

All three turtles gathered behind him with a silence only years of training could instill, and peered over his shoulder into the kitchen. And suddenly they understood why he was having such a hard time muffling his giggles.

Klunk and Tungsten were in the kitchen.

It had been three weeks since the two of them had officially met each other on the couch in the living room, and since then they had both been given free run of the lair. The two had kept out of each other's way at first, but as the days rolled by they seemed to accept that they were both here to stay and had developed a sort of truce. Klunk seemed to spend a lot more time on Mikey’s lap, shoulders, or in his arms, constantly rubbing up against his master any time he got the chance.

Making sure the dog understood that this turtle was his.

Apparently somewhere along the line the two had become friends while the turtles’ backs were turned.

Klunk was perched on top of the counter right next to the stove. Below him sat Tungsten, the mutt watching the tabby cat attentively. And as the turtles watched in growing surprise and amusement, Klunk sat up on his haunches, hooked a couple spaghetti noodles out of the pot on the stove with his claws, and flicked them over the side of the counter to the patiently waiting canine below. Who eagerly caught them in his mouth by the way, sucking them down and licking off the sauce while his feline partner in crime cleaned the spatters of sauce off the counter top.

Leo folded his arms with a soft laugh. “Well, I guess they’ve finally settled their differences.”

“I guess so.” Donny agreed.

Mikey smirked and ended the video. “See? I told you it’d be alright.” He stepped into the kitchen to shoo the two delinquents away from the stove, then trotted back out waving his phone in the air.

“Go ahead and dish up guys, I gotta go show this to Master Splinter!”

Chapter Text

“Raph! Get a move on already!”

The red clad turtle chuckled and rolled his eyes. He was up to his elbows in a broken down old bus that would never run again, trying to liberate a part from the stubborn old engine. He was covered in oil, grease, and god knew what else from scrambling around the junkyard all night, and his muscles had the slight but pleasant burn that only came with hard work.

“Raph, ya gonna finish sometime tonight?”

The turtle pulled his head out of the decrepit old bus and smiled warmly at his brother and his best friend. God, he loved scavenging nights in the junkyards with Casey and Don! They were just as dirty and grimey as he was, though the macho part of him liked to think that he’d put in the most elbow grease. Don had a dark streak of grime across his cheek, and Casey’s face was just completely smudged. They both had heavy canvas duffle bags over their shoulders, and sported head lamps and loaded tool belts around their hips. Both were grinning up at him.

He grinned right back and leaned against the bus. “Hey, you think it’s easy gettin’ parts out a this hunk a junk? Thing’s been sitting here since Lincoln was in office.”

Donnie scrambled up the junk pile to peer into the bus, turning on his headlamp. “What part are you so shell bent on… Oh! Good, we needed one of those for the battle shell. Good spotting Raph, I completely forgot about it! You sure the part’s good though?”

“Yeah, if I can get it out. It’s being stubborn.”

“Aww, what’s a matter Raphie? Is a little spark plug gettin’ the better of ya?” Casey laughed, climbing up beside the two turtles to peer in at the engine Raph had spent the better part of ten minutes arguing with.

“Spark plug my shell.” Raph grumbled, pointing out the part they wanted. He stood back, letting his friend and brother take a crack at it.

It was a beautiful night out. The moon hung bright and full in the sky overhead, and a few diamond bright stars had even fought their way through the light pollution to wink down at them. A cool breeze had popped up earlier in the evening, and it wrapped around him now, playing with his crimson bandana tails.

The junkyard was quiet and dark.

No one ever policed this junkyard, and Don had needed all of half a minute to deal with the few safety lights. Tall fences kept out unwanted eyes, and the homeless who lived here were friends. They often kept an eye out for pieces the turtles could use, and the turtles thanked them with warm clothes, blankets, and anything else they had to spare that would make their friends’ lives easier. Unless the Purple Dragons decided to raid the junkyard tonight too, there was almost no chance of someone spotting them.

It was an easy scavenge, and Raphael and his brothers loved this place.

A loud clunk sounded, and was quickly followed by a long string of swearing from inside the bus. Raphael laughed, out and out laughed, and ducked back under the hood with the other two.

“Alright ya knucklehead, what’d ya do now?”

It took them almost an hour of sweat and growling to finally wrestle the part out of the bus. Raph tucked it into the duffle he’d left sitting on the ground, and the three of them kept moving. They filled up the first set of duffels, then returned to the battle shell for empty ones and started all over again.

Another two hours worth of salvage left their duffels bulging, and their bodies covered in more grease and grime than they would’ve thought possible. But they were more than proud of themselves when they pulled the armored truck back into the garage.

Casey toed one of the duffels. “Yo fellas, what’s with the bag a blankets? Thought you guys was wantin’ parts.”

“We do.” Donnie answered patiently. “But you saw our friends at the junkyard. We collect blankets and clothes for them. You’d be surprised what gets left in the trunks and back seats of junkers. If they’re serviceable, but need a little work, we bring them back to the lair for cleaning and repair. We’ll get them into the best shape we can, then give them to our friends the next time we hit the yard.”

“Cool.” Casey grabbed up the straps for that duffel and two others and hopped out of the truck. “You want these here in the garage or you want it all down in the lair?”

“In the lair is fine Case, not all a the parts are for the transportation.” Raph grabbed two more of the bags and stepped into the elevator. Casey and Don were  quick to follow him. “Most a this stuff is for Don’s gizmos down in the lab. We’ll let him sort out what he needs, then bring the rest back up here. And the clothes and blankets go straight to the wash before we even think about tryin’ to mend them holes.”

“Sounds good man.” Casey grinned. “Any chance I can swipe a coffee for the ride home while I’m down here?”

“Nah, help yourself.”

The three exited the elevator together, and none of them were surprised to find Leonardo still awake and waiting for them. He smiled when he saw their beaming faces and moved in to take a bag from Casey and Don, as both of them were carrying more than two, and fell into step beside them.

“I see the tech scavenge went well. You guys find everything you need?”

Donatello bumped the door to his lab open with his hip and set the two bags of parts on the floor by his desk. “I’ll say. Raph even managed to find the part we’d been needing for the battle shell. So no more making due, we can swap it out...Oh, and Raph found some stuff for our friends at the yard. Not sure what condition they’re in yet.”

“That’s awesome Don. But don’t stay up all night sorting this stuff and putting it away. That can wait till tomorrow.” Leo glanced at his red clad brother, a silent request for more information. “Raphael?”

The hothead grabbed the bag of clothes and blankets from Casey and tossed it roughly over his shoulder. He frowned. The bag was a bit heavier than he expected. Granted, he had really packed the stuff in to make sure it would fit, but he knew he hadn’t completely filled it. He shrugged and turned his attention back to the older turtle. Maybe Don had tucked some stuff in there too.

He led the others back into the lair.

“Most of it’s good, but Mikey’ll still have ta break out the sowin’ basket. Just a couple patch jobs. The Professor says hi by the way, and thanks fer’ the blankets. He an’ the rest a the homeless will keep an eye out for us, same as always.” He glanced around curiously. “Where’s Masta’ Splinta and the chucklehead? They turn in already?”

“No, they’re in the kitchen. We figured you three would be hungry when you got home. Casey, you’re welcome to stay as well.”

Casey whooped and did a fist pump as he trotted into the kitchen. “Yes! Yo Mikey, what’d ya make tonight for us returnin’ foragers?!”

Donatello arched an eyebrow. “...returning foragers?”

“Meh, I learned ta just roll with it.” Raph shrugged and lightly socked his brother in the shoulder. “You two go on ahead. I’m gonna go drop these in the washin’ machine and get ‘em going first, then I’ll be right in.”

The lair was quiet tonight, as he made his way to the washing room. Water moved softly through the pipes over his head and embedded in the walls around him. Off in the distance he could hear the subway, the thunderous rumble softened by distance and stone. Even from the laundry room he could hear the rise and fall of his family’s voices all the way out in the kitchen.

The laundry room was warm, it was always warm. Comfortable. As much as they all moaned and grumbled about chores, they honestly didn’t mind doing them, especially when said chore was laundry. The lair was large, the monolithic stones leaching off any heat, and the turtles were cold blooded. There weren’t enough space heaters in the world to warm up the entire lair to a comfortable level. Getting an excuse to spend some time in the little laundry room with the warm air from the dryer was the turtles’ favorite thing about chores.

The red clad turtle set the duffle to one side and peered into the wash.

Whoever had drawn the laundry chore last hadn’t come back to switch. He shrugged and popped the washer and dryer, transferring the blankets and sheets. He made a face at the faded pink stains on one of the sheets and grabbed a bottle out of a cabinet to pre-treat it and throw it back into the wash. Maybe a second round in the washing machine would take out the last remnants of Mikey’s latest prank. He tossed the final few pieces into the dryer and made a grab for the duffel bag. Again, the weight seemed odd but he paid it no mind....That is, until he pulled out the first blanket.

A growl erupted from the bag!

“WHAT the SHELL?!” The turtle dropped the grimy blanket and backpedalled, landing on his shell with a loud smack, back pressed against the open washer. He could vaguely hear his family coming, wanting to know what had happened? Was he alright? He didn’t answer, unable to stop staring at the bag.

Sticking up out of the open duffel was a head!

A pointed black furred head was directed his way, balanced on a long graceful neck and slender shoulders. Large dark eyes set in a somewhat dished face watched him with a mixture of wariness and curiosity. The animal cocked its head, pricking up a pair of tufted ears. Dark chocolate brown eyes locked with fiery amber gold. For one long second, those eyes held. Then three turtles and a massive human came barreling through the laundry room door and that ebony head dove back down into the bag.

“Raphael, are you ok?”

“What happened?”

“Bro, you alright?”

“You good dude?”

Raphael nodded. He slowly sat up and cautiously pulled the bag open a little further. Nestled down inside the grimy clothes and blankets was their odd stowaway. It had swaddled itself in them, only its head showing. The feathery tufted ears were pinned back, hackles along the back of its neck rising when the turtle’s hand got a little too close. The little beast pulled his lips back from ivory teeth, a warning growl escaping his throat.

“Is that a dog?” Mikey asked curiously.

Raph shrugged helplessly. “I think so, but it ain’t like any dog I eva’ seen. Maybe it’s a puppy or somethin’?” He peered into the duffle, minding his fingers when the dog growled again. “...How the shell did he get in there?”

“Given how he’s growling at your fingers, I think a more pertinent question to be asking right now would be how on earth are you going to get him out of there?” Donnie leaned even farther through the door. “And that is definitely a dog. I don’t know what specific breed that is, but it’s definitely canine.”

“ ‘ere, give this a try Raph.” Casey squatted down within easy reach of the red clad turtle and handed him a sandwich baggie from his pocket. “Go on an’ offer ‘im some a that. I ain’t met the dog yet that’d turn down Ma’s homemade beef jerky. Just offer ‘im a piece, an’ let ‘im sniff your hand. He’ll let ya coax ‘im out a the bag eventually. Just be patient with ‘im. If I’d been swung around in a duffel bag like that I’d be kind a cranky too!”

Thinking of the way he’d tossed the bag around throughout the evening, the turtle couldn’t help but wince.

Raphael looked up at the others. When they nodded, he took the bag and pulled out a strip of jerky. Breaking off a small piece, he offered it to the dog in the duffel bag. A wet pointed nose twitched, and the head cautiously rose up out of the bag. A smile crept unbidden over the turtle’s face. He offered his hand a little bit closer. That long nose twitched again, reminding him of Splinter when he was about to catch one of them in the middle of a prank.

Usually Mikey.

“Come on falla, I gotta wash those. Ya can’t stay in there forever.” He coaxed.

The tufted black ears perked up at the sound of his voice. He stretched out his neck towards the turtle’s hand, nose questing after the scent of the jerky and the odd scent of the terrapin who held it. He licked his lips, and finally began to crawl out of the bag. Long slender legs ended in small paws rested firmly on the concrete. A deep chest, narrow shoulders, and a strongly tucked waist all contributed to a streamlined appearance. Long dirty fur covered the animal’s entire body, and a long feathered tail was tucked in between his legs. He was bigger than they would have expected. Raph could see his brothers’ eyes getting wider and wider as they watched the dog unfold himself from the bag.

Mikey’s jaw was almost on the floor. “What is he, a transformer?”

Leo chuckled. “I agree. What is that Raphael, a duffel bag or a clown car?”

“Whateva’.”

Raph kept his eyes on the dog. That nose was still questing after the jerky in his hand. Seeing as how it had been so accommodating as to get out of the bag on the first try, it was only fair that he gave it the jerky. Right?

“Here ya go fella.” he mumbled. “Thanks for gettin’ out a the bag.”

The dog snatched the jerky from his open hand and immediately retreated a few steps. When no one made a move to follow or try to take it, the dog made quick work of his prize. The jerky was gone in the blink of an eye. The dog raised it’s head, pricking those tufted ears again as it took in the strange beings surrounding it. Then those brown eyes focused on Raph again.

The turtle chuckled when the animal licked it’s chops.

He’d apparently established himself as a food source...awesome. Keeping the large piece he’d pulled from the bag, Raph passed the rest back to Casey. He could feel the weight of the dog’s gaze as he broke off another little bit, and offered it to their surprise guest.

Again the dog crept forward, snatched the offered tidbit, and retreated to scarf it down. And again. It didn’t retreat as far the third time, and the fourth it didn’t retreat at all.

Raph took a deep breath and offered a fifth piece. As the dog scarfed at the slightly larger bit of jerky, the turtle cautiously laid a hand on the animal’s shoulder. The dog went tense as a coiled spring, but it didn’t move. Raph offered it another piece of jerky with his free hand. After a long moment’s hesitation, their furry guest accepted it. He slowly began to pet the animal. Again, he felt it tense, and again he rewarded it for holding still and not biting him.

“Raph…” Donnie breathed. “Look at his tail.”

Amber eyes darted down the animal’s streamlined body. The plumed tail that had been tucked between the mutt’s legs the whole time had finally made an appearance. And it was wagging slowly to and fro at a snail’s pace.

Leo smiled and leaned against the door frame. “I think you did it Raph.”

Raph’s face lit up. “Good boy.” he murmured to the dog, prompting pricked ears and a slightly more vigorous tail wagging this time. “Good boy.”  

Raphael studied the stray. It was definitely bigger than he’d thought when he’d first seen it in the bag, and definitely not a pup. Young, sure, but not a pup. Height wise, the dog could almost match Tungsten. Raph estimated that there wasn’t more than a couple inches difference between the pair. But when it came to sheer bulk, sheer muscle , his brother’s dog had this delicate looking thing outclassed. It couldn’t have weighed more than thirty pounds or so. His long jet black fur was dirty and lank and matted. He stank, and he would need a bath or two.

The dog cautiously sniffed at Raphael’s face.

Now that the initial wariness seemed to have faded a little, the homeless mutt scooted closer to the hothead. Then, without any warning it seemed to come to a decision and climbed into the startled terrapin’s lap without so much as a ‘by your leave’ and made himself at home there. He folded himself up into an impossibly small ball and draped his head over Raph’s forearm so that he could watch the others.

“That thing is totally a transformer dude, no way could he curl up that tiny unless he was!” Mikey asserted.

Raph rolled his eyes.

Seeing as his arms were full, Donatello took it on himself to give Mikey’s bandana tails a tug for him.

Raphael smirked. “Thanks Donnie.”

“No problem bro.” He gestured at the dog in Raph’s lap. “Now, what do you say we get your new friend some food? He’s got to be hungry, and…”

“What has happened my sons? Is Raphael alright?”

The turtles and Casey quickly scrambled out of the way to let Splinter through. The elderly rat stopped, his eyebrows rising at the sight of his second eldest sitting on the cold floor with a shaggy looking dog in his lap. He laid his ears back, tail swishing from side to side. It was a warning pose his sons had learned to heed well over the years.

“Raphael, you are developing a bad habit of bringing home strays.”

The turtle ducked his head. “Master Splinter. I didn’t mean ta bring him home. I never even saw ‘im out in the junk yard. He must a climbed into the bag when I wasn’t lookin’. I swear, I didn’t do this on purpose.”

“Hmm…” The elderly rat stroked his chin, carefully considering his contrite son and their unexpected houseguest. At last he came to a decision. “Very well my son. I believe you. It is too late tonight to take the animal to a shelter. It may remain here tonight. But tomorrow I expect you to take it to a shelter while you and your brothers are out on patrol. Until then, it is your responsibility, and yours alone. Am I understood?”

“Hai, Sensei.” Raph inclined his head respectfully.

“Donatello. Michelangelo. Please put your pets away for now. Leonardo. If you and Mr. Jones would be kind enough to help your brother bathe our guest, I am sure he would much appreciate it. The animal stinks. I will not have him running about the lair until he has been bathed.”

“Of course Sensei.” Leo agreed.

The rat nodded and left the room, calling over his shoulder. “Be sure that you bathe it thoroughly. I will see to it that supper is still warm when you are finished.”

“Thanks Master Splinter!” Casey called after the rat’s retreating back. To Mikey he added, “I mean, don’t get me wrong Mikey, I’m sure your tomato soup tastes good cold an’ all. But I prefer it hot ya know? Hot an’ with a side a grilled cheese!”

Mikey snickered. “Nice save dude.”

Leo shooed his two youngest brothers out. “Alright, that’s enough. Let’s get a move on. Don, you and Mikey go and get Klunk and Tungsten under wraps ok? Then go ahead and eat with Master Splinter. It shouldn’t take us long to get this little guy cleaned up.”

The younger two nodded and left, Don whistling for Tungsten and Mikey calling for Klunk.

Casey snorted. “Clearly ya never washed a dog Leo. Ya better hope this one likes gettin’ wet, or this is gonna go about as well as trying ta get Raph ta wear pink ballerina gear.”

Raphael snorted and Leo winced at the idea of trying to get his hothead brother into a tutu. “Yeah, no. Let’s just hope Raphael’s dog likes baths. Raph, you think he’ll let you pick him up and carry him? I don’t want him getting scared and trying to take a piece out of your shell. You’d break his teeth.”

“Very funny fearless.” Raph rolled his eyes and cautiously slipped his arms more fully underneath the dog. He needn’t have worried, the jet black stray just curled further into his strong arms. He smiled and scratched his fingers through the long grimy fur.

“Come on Raph, let’s get your pooch washed up. I’ll run ahead an get the bath started for ya.”

“He ain’t my pooch!” Raph shook his head at his cackling friend as the human raced ahead to the bathroom. “Knucklehead.” he grumbled.

Leo laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. He knew he didn’t mean it.

Raph knew going in that it was going to take time to get the mutt clean. As grimy as it was, he was fully prepared to have to wash it twice. And the matts? Forget about it. They were spending at least an hour and a half in there, minimum.

Four hours later...

“Woah! How on earth did you get all of those matts out of his fur? I thought for sure you’d have to cut it!”

Don set his tea down on the table and stared, taking stock of the tightly curled ball of dog in Raph’s arms. Across the table, Mikey  held up a large McDonald's cup full of kibble.

“Ah, Mike, ya didn't need ta stay up and wait for us. You’re gonna be dragging some massive shell tomorrow at practice.”

Mikey shrugged. “Master Splinter cancelled. Between the tech scavenge and our unexpected guest he said he'd give us tomorrow,  but he expects us to bust our shells the day after. Just a heads up.”

The hot head nodded and set the, now thoroughly cleaned and dried, coal black stray down on his feet and took the cup. “Thanks Mikey. An’ Donnie ya gotta ask Leo an’ Case. They were the ones what figured out how to get ‘em out without cutting his fur… Come here pooch, here’s the dinner I promised ya.”

The mutt could apparently smell what was in the cup.

He yipped, dancing around the turtle’s legs excitedly. He even sat back on his haunches to make himself a little taller, his plumed tail wagging a mile a minute.  Raph sidestepped the dog, having to employ more of his ninja skills than he would’ve expected to keep from tripping over the mutt or spilling the kibble. The dog bounced along at his side to a ceramic bowl set up by Tungsten’s water dish. Tungsten’s food dish had been set up out of the newcomer’s reach. The last thing anyone wanted tonight was a turf war between the two dogs. Raph dumped in the kibble and their canine guest descended on it ravenously.  

“Wow, dudes he was really hungry!”

Raph rolled his eyes. “He’s a stray Mikey. What’d ya think was gonna happen? ‘Least when we take ‘im to the shelter he’ll get three squares a day until they can find him a home.” He cocked his head, eyeing the delicate little mutt. “He’s damn skinny too. The way that waist is cinched in, ya’d swear his belly button would be rubbing a sore on his backbone. I didn’t think it was possible for anythin’ ta be that skinny. The shelter’s gonna have one shell of a job feeding ‘im up.”

Don shook his head. “I’m not so sure Raph. Given the overall look of him, I get the impression he would’ve been more slender anyway.”

“Really?” Raph gave the mutt another dubious look. “What makes ya say that? There's nothing to em’!”

Don rolled his eyes and went back to nursing his tea. Leo had forbidden him to feed his caffeine addiction this late at night. So no coffee. “There’s still bone structure Raph. This dog’s got a more streamlined look to him. If I had to hazard a guess I'd say this is one of those breeds that are built for speed. Maybe a herder or a racing breed.” He shrugged. “Whatever he is, I can almost guarantee he'll be fast, and he'll probably be able to turn on a dime.”

A coughing noise interrupted the genius. The mutt had been eating his kibble too fast and had almost choked on it. The little dog cleared his throat and went right back to scarfing down the food as fast as possible.

Casey shook his head. “Hey Raph, next time ya feed him, put a tennis ball in his bowl. It'll slow ‘im down enough that he won't choke on it.” He thought about it, then added. “Yeah might wanna be careful dude, he might be a little testy around his food. Him livin’ on the streets an’ all.”

Raph leaned over to muss up his best friend's long hair. “Yah got any other pearls a wisdom there Case?”

Casey batted his hand away. “Nah, I think ya got this dude. No worries.” He tipped his chair back onto the two back legs and popped his feet up on the corner of the table away from the others.

Leo chuckled. “Your vote of confidence is much appreciated Casey.” He looked to Mikey. “Mikey, is dinner still warm?”

The youngest beamed and leaped to the oven where a large old pot simmered away on a low heat, releasing wisps of savory steam into the air to tantalize the noses of everyone present.

“Comin’ right up dudes!”

He was so ready to get some sleep.

Raph heaved a tired sigh and slowly trudged up the stairs. It had been way too long a day, and an even longer night. His bed was calling his name, and he was more than happy to answer.

A nearly nonexistent whine sounded behind him. The dog was standing at the bottom of the stairs. Big expressive eyes stared up at him, uncertainty  and pleading mixed in equal measure.

“Right. Dog.” He patted his thigh. “Come on then ya mutt, I ain’t waitin’ all night for ya.”

The dog shot up the stairs past him as if he’d been fired from a bow. He paused at the top. The dog cocked his head expectantly, waiting for Raph to hurry and get up there already.

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’.” The hot head huffed, but there wasn’t any heat in it. The dog trotted along beside him, darting forward to sniff at the bedroom doors. A soft warning growl issued from under Donnie’s door, Tungsten catching wind of a new dog in the lair. The mutt made a quiet growl right back, but returned to Raph. He eyed the door warily, giving it a wide berth before moving on to check out the next door.

“Least you got some spunk.” Raph muttered, and booted his door open.

Held the door long enough for his guest to trot inside, then swung it closed behind them. He didn’t bother turning on the lights, just trudged in and hung his mask and gear on the wall pegs and flopped down on his bed with a tired groan.

He wasn’t getting up for anything short of the lair being on fire.

The clicks of the mutt’s toe nails sounded loudly off the cement floor. It sounded like he was exploring the room. Lord knew there were probably lots of new scents to smell. Something rattled at the other end of the room and the terrapin grumbled. Stupid mutt had better not eat anything. Or pee on anything.

He didn’t remember falling asleep.

He definitely didn’t remember the dog climbing up in the bed with him. But when morning came Raphael woke to find him curled up in a tight ball against the bridge of his shell. He almost fussed at the mutt. Amost. But it looked so content pressed up against him. And he couldn’t deny that he liked the warmth coming off of it.

He hesitantly stroked the dog’s head. It gave a happy little groan and leaned into the touch.

Raph chuckled. “You like that do ya?” He shifted his hand to scratch behind his cuddle buddy’s ear. It earned him an even louder happy moan. “Yeah, guess ya do… Damn you’re warm. Now I get why Donnie likes keepin’ his up on the couch with him. It’s like havin’ a space heater on your lap.”

The dog was waking up a bit more. He yawned, uncurling somewhat from his tight ball. Sleepy eyes regarded the turtle, then swept the room. Not seeing anything threatening, he huffed and put his head back down on Raph’s shell.

The turtle snorted.

He could hear his brothers moving around out in the lair outside his door. The clink and clatter of Mikey banging around in the kitchen while he made breakfast. The soft hush of his brother’s feet as Donnie shuffled out of his room, Tungsten’s nails clicking along at his heels. It was still a bit of a novel experience to realize that Donnie was sleeping in his own bed most nights, not pulling all nighters in his lab. He couldn’t hear Leo, but he knew that he would hear the soft sigh of his blades cutting through the air if he got within fifteen feet of the dojo. Leo always practiced in the mornings.

Wait, was it still morning?

Raph craned his neck to see his beat up alarm clock... Eleven forty-five! Holy shell he had slept in! He groaned and rolled over. The mutt leaning against his side yipped in surprise, flopping over without the turtle’s support. He shot Raph an affronted look, then huffed and hopped out of the bed. Without a backwards glance, he trotted straight to the door. He sniffed at it, then sat up to put his forepaws on it. Testing to to see if he could get it to open. It didn’t bedge.

The dog made a miffed little growl.

“A’right, a’right.” Raph chuckled. “I’m comin’. Just don’t crap on my floor, or you’re spendin’ the rest a your day in the garage. Capiche?”

Apparently he did.

Out in the lair, the mutt stuck close to his side.

Raph was grateful for that. He could see the other three bedroom doors were open, meaning that Klunk and Tungsten were loose somewhere in the lair. He’d have to look out for his temporary pet, just in case Tungsten decided to have a go at him, or he decided to go after Klunk.

The clanks and bangs from the kitchen had let up, and the smell of bacon permeated the still air. Seemed Mikey was almost if not completely finished with a very late breakfast. Raph wondered if anyone else had slept in anywhere near as late as he had.

“Come on pooch. I don’t know about you but I’m hungry. So let’s get this done.”

He opened the door out onto the sewer. The dank air assaulted his nose almost immediately, dampness pressing against his skin. He shrugged it off and gestured towards the tunnel. “Go on then. Do what needs doin’.”

The mutt chuffed and trotted out to relieve himself, the turtle on his heels with a grocery bag. It hadn’t taken them long to realize that a tunnel full of dog crap would be a dead give away that their home was somewhere close. Especially  if one of their enemies thought to realize that the turtles could have pets and would need to take care of them. It was as good as putting up a banner saying ‘ the turtles are here! Come and get them! ’ They now hoarded grocery bags to clean up after Tungsten with.

“Will ya get a move on already?”

The grate of the lair door sliding open was all the warning he had.

Tungsten darted out into the tunnel with a woof, his distracted owner following him with a grocery bag in hand. Everyone froze the second the resident dog’s eyes landed on the new guest pooch.  

“Uh...Don? ...What do we do?”

Donnie made a helpless little gesture. “I don’t know uh...just, let them meet and be ready to pull them apart?”

Tungsten stalked towards the new dog, tail raised high and legs stiff. He stretched his neck out towards the mutt, nose questing after the newcomer’s scent. His hackles were semi-raised. He wasn’t yet fully aggressive, waiting to see which way this skinny stranger would jump.

For his part, the new mutt was on the defensive. He crouched low to the ground, watching the burlier shepherd dog with a wary eye. His hackles were all the way up, tail tucked.

The two cautiously sniffed at each other. Tungsten’s tail slowly began to wag, and the mutt’s ears pricked up. Tension began to bleed away. The skinny stray straightened up, his hackles flattening out. The two sniffed curiously along sides and across rumps.

And then proceeded to ignore each other.

“So that’s… that’s it?” Raph spluttered.

Don stared after the two animals, floored. “I...guess so. Wow, I really didn’t think they’d handle it that well!”

“Yeah, well, apparently ya thought wrong genius.”

The purple clad turtle raised an eye ridge. “You’re complaining?”

Raph smiled as his mutt made a playful nip at Tungsten. “Nah. I’m just glad they didn’t try an’ kill each other. You think he’ll be just as cool with Klunk?”

“I hope so.”

Across the tunnel, the dogs had finally found a suitable place to squat. Donnie sighed. He pulled the grocery bag over his hand and used his bo staff to pole vault across the drain to the walkway on the other side.

“Come on, back to work. They aren’t going to pick up after themselves.”

Having a pet of his own was and wasn’t a novel experience.

On the one hand it was, because he’d never had a pet before. The mutt that the family had dubbed his until further notice followed him whenever he moved to a new room. While he worked out, tinkered with his bike, or vegged on the couch, the mutt would explore the room. But eventually he always ended up back at Raph’s side or, if the turtle was up and active, as close as he could safely get.

He liked to cuddle his warm little body up in a tight little ball against Raph’s side. And Raph definitely couldn’t deny he liked the warmth. It was almost as good as sitting next to one of his human friends. All of his brothers did it, leaching warmth off of April and Casey with varying degrees of subtlety.

On the other hand, it wasn’t novel at all. It was a creature depending on him to look out for it. And he’d already experienced that as an older brother. The only difference here was that the mutt wasn’t anywhere close to as annoying as Mikey.

Didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy it though.

When Donnie eventually emerged from his lab to feed his caffeine addiction, Tungsten made a beeline for the newcomer. Tail high and wagging ecstatically, he coaxed the stray away from Raph’s side. The two rough housed across the floor while their masters, or temporary master as the case may be, looked on.

Donnie grinned. “Tungsten!”

The shepherd’s head snapped up, ears pricked.

“Go get your rope!”

Tungsten gave an excited yip and dashed away. He returned quickly with a two foot length of knotted red and blue rope that Casey had provided two weeks after Tungsten had come to stay. He gave it a playful shake, dancing back out of Donnie’s reach before the turtle could grab it.

Donnie huffed into his coffee. “Either let me play or share with our guest! Make up your mind!”

Raph snorted. There wasn’t any genuine irritation in Donnie’s tone.

Tungsten gave another yip and shook the rope vigorously. The mutt shifted, catching Tungsten’s eye. The shepherd nosed him and dropped into a play position. A clear invitation. He pricked his ears and wagged his tail madly, encouraging their guest to play.

After a moment's indecision the slender little mutt seized the rope and threw his weight back against it.

He definitely took Tungsten by surprise, dragging the heavier shepherd forward several steps. Tungsten gave an excited growl and dragged back, trying to reclaim the ground he’d lost.

“Alright!” Raph cheered.

Mikey jumped over the back of the couch and landed between his elder brothers. “Woo! Perfect timing! Go Raph’s dog go!” He pumped a fist as Donnie began calling encouragement to the shepherd, taking it as the opening shots of an ‘out-yell your brother’ contest. “Come on Raph’s dog, you go for it!”

Raph happily shoved his little brother off the couch.

Mikey wasn’t the least bit perturbed. The youngest turtle grabbed an empty glass and proceeded to use it as a microphone to M.C. the impromptu event. “Yes dudes! Major league tug of war has finally hit town! In this corner we have Tungsten, the defending hometown champ! And in this corner we’ve got the challenger! With his mysterious origins, he...”

Both of his brothers rolled their eyes and calmly planted one foot each against the youngest’s carapace and shoved.

Mikey loosed an indignant squawk.

Donnie and Raph slapped a high five and went back to cheering for their respective dogs.

Raphael shook his head indignantly.

“No, ya can cut it out now! Ya ain't gettin’ nothin’!”

Big dark eyes stared up at him from the floor, unblinking.

“I said no.”

Large dark eyes continued to bore into fiery amber. And the amber gold gave way first.

“Damnit. A’right ya flea bitten mutt, take th’ damn slice before I change my mind!” He tossed the pizza slice into the air and watched the ebony mutt make a flying leap to catch it before grumpily getting another slice for himself out of the box.

Across the room, Leo and Donnie stared in open mouthed shock.

“Did he just get out stubborned by a dog?”

“He totally did.” Mikey sing-songed as he trotted past with a shell cell held high in triumph. “And I  got the video footage to prove it!”

“And I’m telling you, he’s not going to be able to keep up.”

Raph stared at his brother. He’d been gathering up his gear to go on patrol when his genius brother had approached him with a sturdy backpack and pushed it into his hands without preamble. He looked down at the stray sitting quietly by his side.

“Donnie, have ya seen this dog? He runs circles ‘round the lot of us! An’ you’re trying ta tell me ya don’t think he can keep up?”

Donatello crossed his arms. “No, I’m telling you he can’t keep up with the climbing, grappling, and jumping across roof tops. At least not without training, and even then that would be a hard sell. It’ll be better for everyone if you just carry him.”

“You want me to make him into a purse dog!”

Coming out of the dojo just in time to hear the tail end of the conversation, Michelangelo took one look at Raph holding the backpack and the patiently waiting dog at his side and gave a wild cackle.

Raph growled, two seconds away from hurling the backpack at his baby brother’s head. “Mikey, I swear ta God…!”

“Settle down Mikey.” Leo breezed in from lord only knew where, already kitted out for a night on patrol. He patted Raph’s shoulder as he passed, the firm touch settling the hot head. “Let’s get moving, we’re already late. Get the dog in the bag and let’s get out of here.”

Still grumbling, Raph squatted down and gently settled the black coated stray in the pack. Donnie had put a board in the bottom to give him something to stand on, and had padded the bag with a warm fleece blanket. The dog went easily enough into the pack. He curled up into a tight ball at the bottom and cuddled into the blanket with a content chuff.

Raph smiled and shrugged the pack on over his shell.

He’d never admit it to the others, but he was beginning to like the long haired pooch. If Master Splinter were amenable, he wouldn’t mind keeping him around. He’d need a name though. Maybe…?

He hurriedly quashed those thoughts.

Master Splinter had already made his position on the matter quite clear. One of the mission goals tonight was to drop off the stray at the shelter. Hell, the only reason Donnie had been allowed to keep Tungsten was because the dog had all but surgically attached himself to the genius turtle’s hip. And Klunk? Klunk had just moved in, there had never been a question of if the cat would stay or not. Raph snorted at the thought. He would’ve loved to see anyone try to boot the orange tabby out! But this new stray didn’t fit into either category.

Better not to let himself get too attached.

Pushing the depressing thoughts aside, the hothead jogged to catch up with his brothers. Donnie closed the door to the lair behind him, and the four set off through the sewers at a quick trot.

“Jeez Leo, what’s the hurry?”

Leo shot a disapproving look over his shoulder. “That huge weapons deal with the Purple Dragons is supposed to go down at the docs tonight. You really want to blow a month’s worth of work by being late to the party?”

Raphael growled out a curse. He’d completely forgotten about the weapon’s deal they’d been watching. Word on the street was that someone had gotten their hands on some very high powered weapons. Like military grade and military prototype high grade. And they were looking to sell to the highest bidder. Which could only spell bad news for anyone hapless enough to get in the way of their buyers. So it would probably be for the best if the weapons deal were interrupted.

Preferably with extreme prejudice.

Donnie was checking the watch hidden under his wrist wrap. “Leo, if we’re going to make it on time we’re going to have to haul shell.”

Their leader nodded to let Don know he’d heard, already swinging up a ladder to open a manhole. “We’ll make better time topside. Raph, we’ll have to drop your dog off afterwards. Move it guys, we literally have no time tonight.”

Trying to hide how pleased he was to have the dog a little longer, Raph shoved Mikey up the ladder. “Ya heard fearless, haul shell!”

“It’s just a few Purple Dragons, you said! How hard could it be, you said! The sellers won’t be a problem, you said!”

Raphael grimaced.

Ok, he deserved that. He’d definitely earned his brother’s ire tonight. And not just Donnie either. Leo was going to rip him a new one when this was all over, so would Donnie. Maybe even Mikey . And he’d stand there and take it all without complaint, because this was totally, one hundred percent his fault.

They’d arrived at the docks just in time to see the seller’s transferring the weapons to the Purple Dragon’s  trucks, the sale already completed. Leo had wanted to wait. To put a GPS tracker on the trucks and let it lead them back to the Purple Dragons’ main weapons cache. They’d clean up the sellers, then follow the truck and destroy the weapons. Take out two birds with one stone. It was a good plan. It probably would’ve worked. Except Raphael was a hothead.

And apparently he couldn’t even follow the simplest of instructions.

He’d leapt in and started a fight at the first opportunity. And his brothers had had no choice but to follow him into the fray, or risk him getting his fool head shot off. It might still have been ok, but fate is never very kind to turtles.

Apparently she likes to watch them squirm.

Had he given them a chance to finish scouting ahead, they might have seen it, and avoided this mess. They could’ve picked people off a few at a time, and maybe kept them from raising the alarm. But he didn’t. And now they had to deal with the consequences of his blunder.

The Purple Dragons had had reinforcements waiting barely a block away. About fifty of them in fact. That put the number at almost sixty Purple Dragons, give or take. And that’s not even taking the ten sellers into account, who had another twenty people squirreled away in case the Dragons tried anything funny.

So, yeah, they were a little out-numbered.

Raphael ducked under a punch and kicked the man away, slicing at another with his sais. He yelled across the fight at Donatello’s shell.

“Believe me Don, I’m well aware this one’s all on me. Ya can yell at me later.” He caught a length of chain on his crossed sais before it could crack down over his head. “If we survive that is!”

He lost track of how many men he fought. How many dropped like stones at his hands. There seemed to be a never ending ocean of them. Surrounding him and his brothers at every turn. They’d started out fighting back to back, but the push and pull of the fight had separated them. The turtle nearest to him was Donatello, and there was a solid fifteen feet in between them. Fifteen feet, and more bodies than he could shake a stick at. He was just glad Leo and Mikey had wedged the gas pedals and sent the two trucks full of weapons careening off the end of the dock and into the harbor. They wouldn’t have stood a chance if those experimental weapons had been in play.

A knife sliced across the meat of his thigh and he stumbled.

They still might not make it.

He snarled and caught the next slice from the knife in his sai, twisting his grip to strip the  blade right out of his attacker’s hand. The man stumbled back, shocked, and Raph took the chance to turn and bury the blade to the hilt in the shoulder of the guy going after him with a broken piece of pipe. He never even saw the other two guys moving in. He didn’t even feel the twin thuds slam into the back of his head and his neck.

All he saw was black.

“Raphael!”

Leonardo screamed the name at the top of his lungs as he watched three men drag his brother to the edge of the pier, bound hand and foot. Raphael wasn’t fighting them. Leo didn’t even think he was conscious.  The three men each planted a boot against the turtle and shoved him off the end of the pier. Dropped him into the dark depths like so much garbage.

Leo gave an enraged cry and flung himself into the fight.

He could hear the other two doing the same. Their brother was in danger. And just like that, they ceased to be anything other than fighting machines. Willing to do whatever they had to do to protect one of their own.

The fight still took way too long.

Time seemed to move molasses slow, though he couldn’t have spent more than fifteen minutes beating the fear of God into those who tried to stop him from getting to the end of the pier. But finally, Leo was there. He glanced back once. Donnie and Mikey were more than capable of mopping up the last ten or so. They didn’t need his help.

He dove off the pier.

The water was icy. His first instinct was to gasp at the cold, but he muscled the reaction back and held onto his air.

Even for a creature born to be amphibious, visibility was low. Four feet down, the water was black as pitch. His heart was breaking as the tactical side of his brain realized how hopeless his search was. But he still pulled out a waterproof light and started to search the blackness for his brother.

Again and again he gulped air from the surface and dove back down. And each time another small part of him died, as the murder of his sibling became more and more real. He had always known that, barring a freak accident, he or Raphael would be the first to die. It was almost impossible not to. One of them would push a brother out of harm’s way, or Raph would rush in without thinking, and that would be it. It was inevitable.

The knowledge that he was right was a very cold comfort.

Donatello and Michelangelo were waiting on the end of the dock when he surfaced again. Their faces were grim. They knew. But they had hoped beyond hope that maybe, maybe Leo could pull off a miracle. That maybe this would be one of those times when turtle luck would let them catch a break.

He shook his head.

Tears slipped down Mikey’s cheeks, and dripped into the dark water of the river. He hiccuped and looked to Donnie. “Donnie, can you… can you gps his phone? Maybe…?”

Donnie shook his head, but reached for his shell cell anyway. “Mikey…”

The youngest objected vehemently. “No Donnie! We can’t… we can’t leave him out here Donnie. We can’t .” He broke down in tears, resting his forehead on his knees, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Leonardo pulled himself up out of the water and knelt beside him.

He rubbed his baby brother’s shell, trying to offer comfort even though he knew it would never be enough. Michelangelo clung to him, not noticing or not caring that Leo was soaked. The older terrapin cuddled him close, and rocked him.

“GPS his phone Donatello.” He whispered hoarsely. “We can’t leave him out here. I won’t have someone like Saki , or worse Bishop , laying hands on his body.”

Donnie nodded, hands shaking on the shell cell. “Got it.”

Time seemed to drag while they waited for a location. Finally, the phone made a far to cheerful chime. Orange and blue clad heads snapped up, twin looks of determination settling on their faces.

“Where?”

The techno turtle was staring at his phone, olive green skin pale. “He...He’s a couple hundred feet downstream…” He pointed to his left. “This side of the river, about two hundred and eighty feet that way.”

Leonardo stood, pulling his little brothers with him. “Then let’s go get him.”

They hurried downstream toward the bay, the idea that someone might take their brother’s body lending wings to their tired feet. Sharp eyes raked the riverbank, desperate to find him. Hoping that they wouldn’t. And hating themselves for it.

No one saw a thing.

They went farther downstream, thinking that perhaps the phone had fallen out of Raph’s belt, and maybe his body had traveled farther. Nothing. The thought of returning to the lair empty handed. Of going back to master Splinter without even a body to bury spurred them to keep looking. To retrace their steps back towards the pier and the signal from the phone.

Michelangelo froze midstep. “...you guys hear that?”

The others cocked their heads, listening. They expected to hear humans, maybe dock workers, or Purple Dragons come back for another round. The sound came again.

A soft whine floating feather light through the night air.  

The youngest turtle raced ahead, scrambling over debris and around rocks and thick dock supports. His ninja sure feet never once slipped in the dappled shadows. Seconds later he gave a yell, and raced back upstream along the water's edge. The other two rushed to join him.

Deep in the shadows of a pier, tired but hopeful chocolate eyes watched them approach.

Braced against a dock pylon, was the stray Raph had been carrying in his backpack. In his teeth, he gripped Raphael’s blood red bandana. A bandana that was still attached to the unconscious turtle laying in the semi-shallow water. The mutt made another quiet whine and pulled, lifting Raphael’s head up a little higher out of the water that lapped at the turtle’s chin. He wasn’t strong enough to pull the turtle out. But he could keep his head up. He stared at them with pleading eyes, begging them to help.

Mikey flew over the last few rocks separating them and pressed a hand against Raph’s throat.

His shoulder’s slumped and he choked on a sob. “He’s alive!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, relief overrunning his common sense. “He’s alive!”

He shoved his hands under Raph’s shoulders and pulled.

Leo and Don splashed into the river, gripping either side of Raphael’s shell as if it were a stretcher and helping Mikey lift him up out of the frigid water. The stray clumsily scrambled out of their way, hobbling on cold numbed paws. Raphael’s emerald green skin was pale. He was cold as ice, and his breathing was shallow.

“He’s too cold.” Donnie worried.

Leonardo shrugged the muscular turtle across his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. “Mikey, get the battle shell and bring it as close as you can. Jack up the heat while you’re at it.”

Mikey raced away.

Leo glanced at the shivering little dog at his side. “Donnie, if there’s room, put Raph’s dog in your duffel. I know Master Splinter said to drop him off at the shelter, but he saved Raph’s life tonight. We don’t have time to drop him off, and I’m sure as shell not leaving him out here. ”

The stray went easily into the bag, too exhausted to even grumble at Donnie’s clumsy handling. He just shouldered the tech in Donnie’s bag aside and curled up into a ball.

The two turtles climbed back up onto the pier and hurried in between the warehouses. Michelangelo met them three buildings over. The heating in the battle shell had been turned up as high as it would go, and the thick wool blankets the turtles kept in the truck for emergencies had been set out.

As soon as his brothers were in the car, Mikey stomped on the gas and sent them careening back through the city towards home.

It had been touch and go when they’d arrived.

They had rushed Raph into the infirmary the second they’d gotten home, desperate to warm him up before the cold did irreparable damage. Turtles were cold blooded after all, and at best case scenario Raph would sleep for a week and wake up starving and irritable. At worst, he could slip into a coma-like hibernation that he definitely hadn’t been ready for.

It had scared the whiskers off of Splinter the first time his infant turtles had hibernated through the winter, and had always been a source of worry through the winters that followed. They’d grown out of it around age six, but they’d never lost the ability. The family had learned the hard way that sudden extreme cold could trigger the reaction in them as adults. Unprepared, hibernation stripped them of what little fat they had, then stripped away their muscles. It left them weak, and they could potentially starve to death without medical help.

Raph had managed to avoid that this time.

Barely.

But in the scuffle, Donnie’s duffel bag was left forgotten by the elevator. It was only after Donnie had declared Raph stable that Leonardo had remembered the stray that had saved his brother.

No one noticed their leader grab one of the warm towels brought straight from a quick spin in the dryer. They had been meant for Raph, but he was warm and dry and piled under more quilts than Leo had known they owned. One towel wasn’t going to make a difference.

And no one noticed when he slipped out of the infirmary.

Donnie’s duffel was right where the genius turtle had left it. Still zipped up tight. Leo cast a silent prayer to the heavens and opened up the bag.

Exhausted dark chocolate eyes gazed back at him.

Raph’s dog looked pathetic. His long jet black fur was soaked through. It clung to his slender frame like a wet sheet, accentuating the tuck of his belly and the flare of his hipbones. Making him look almost skeletal. Small shivers racked the delicate animal’s frame occasionally, and he curled himself into an impossibly tighter ball at the first touch of cool air, in an effort to preserve what little heat he had left.

The dog was well on his way to hypothermia because of them.

Leonardo gently lifted the pretzel knot of  stray dog out of Donnie’s duffel bag. He wrapped him in the warm towel. The stray whined gratefully. The leader cradled the icy body closer and carried him toward the infirmary.

His family sat around the room, physically and emotionally exhausted after such a long night. Tungsten lay on the floor at Donatello’s feet. Whining occasionally in his worry for his family. Clunk had settled himself across Mikey’s shoulders like a shawl. Leo hated to bring his family more trouble. But he simply didn’t have the knowledge that Donatello did.

“We’re not quite done yet Donnie.”

The genius turtle paled at the sight of the dark head nestled against Leo’s chest. “Shell, we forgot all about him! Is he even still alive?”

“Almost hypothermic from our carelessness, but yes, he’s alive.”

Splinter rose and came to watch as Donatello cared for the stray on a side table. “My son, why is this stray still in our care?”

Leo sighed. “It was my fault Master Splinter. We were running late to the weapons drop, and I didn’t want to miss our window. Raph had the dog in a backpack, and I told him that we could drop the dog off afterwards. That stopping that experimental tech from getting out on the streets was more important. And I stand by my decision. The weapons they had in the trucks were high grade energy weapons. Things I would expect to see Bishop’s people use. If those had gotten onto the street a lot of people would’ve died.”

Splinter nodded. “I understand your reasoning my son. Your logic was sound. I take it then that Raphael was still wearing the backpack when he was cast into the river? And that the dog was still inside?”

“He was sensei. I don’t know how the dog got out, or how Raphael made it to shore. But when we found them, the dog was holding Raphael’s head up out of the water by his bandanna tails. He was ankle deep in icy cold water and could’ve just walked away. But he braced himself against one of the dock’s pylons and stayed there for at least two hours making sure that Raph didn’t drown. He saved Raph’s life. I couldn’t in good conscience leave him out there to die of the cold.”

“Nor should you be expected to.” Splinter agreed. He eyed the stray on Donnie’s tabletop.

The animal’s shivering had increased, his body trying to make up the heat it had lost. He’d refused to uncurl from his tight ball, even with the turtle’s cajoling. So Donnie had started rubbing at the long fur with the towel in an attempt to at least get him dry. Maybe the friction from the towel would help get the blood flowing again and warm him up faster.

The elderly rat gently moved his son aside.

Without a word, he removed the dog from the towel and slid the damp canine inside his robe. Curled into a ball a little larger than an oblong basketball, the dog made Splinter look pregnant once his robes were closed around it. But when dealing with hypothermia skin to skin was always the best policy. The heat coming from his belly and abdomen was more than sufficient for the task, and his thick fur held heat better than any blanket or towel. Arms cradled around the animal, he felt it shift a little, nestling into his fur and pressing closer to his warmth.

“I will look after our guest Donatello. Rest. All of you. You have all been through enough tonight.”

Raphael woke with a headache.

He grimaced, one hand coming up to cradle his aching skull. His fingers didn’t encounter any bandages, so that was a good sign. Given the way his head was aching, he wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find a crack the size of the grand canyon in his skull.

And knowing Donnie, it could be patched up with whatever he had to hand.

Such items could include, but were not limited to: stitching up wounds with dental floss, making a makeshift sling for a broken and splinted arm out of a length of chain and a carabiner clip, and making the splint for said broken arm out of several old boards and some rusty nuts and bolts.

Yeah, that had been an interesting night.

Deciding the resulting migraine would be worth it, Raph turned his head. Michelangelo was fast asleep in an old hardback chair from the kitchen. He had his legs thrown up on the bed, his head tilted back, and an open comic book tented on his chest. Raphael wondered how long Mikey had been there. Probably longer than Raphael would’ve been happy with.

“Hey. Move your fat shell Mikey. You snore like a damn chainsaw.”

The orange clad turtle promptly fell out of his chair. “What the shell happened...Raph! Holy... You’re awake!” He was up off the floor in an instant. Before Raph could say a word, the youngest had rushed to the door and flung it open, shouting at the top of his not inconsiderable lungs. “Guys! He’s awake! Get your shells up here, Raph’s finally awake!”

Finally? That didn’t bode well.

Mikey bounced back to his bedside like a hyperactive kitten, eyes alight with excitement. “How do you feel? Are you feeling ok? Should I go and get Donnie for you? I could, he’s just downstairs and…”

“ Mikey . Chill.”

“Chill. Right. I can do that!”

Raph raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Ya sure about that chucklehead?”

“...maybe…”

Raphael laughed, and then promptly groaned when the laugh made his headache worse. “Do me a favor Mike? Don’t make me laugh for a while. I got th’ mother a all headaches.”

“Not surprising all things considered.” Donatello slid into place on the other side of his bed, already checking his brother over. “It shouldn’t last long. You will feel like you're starving though, you’ve been asleep for almost a week.”

“I already feel like I’m starvin’.”

Mikey scrambled out of his chair again. “I can fix that! I’ll go get food. Soup only, right Donnie?” He didn’t wait for the brainiac to answer, they’d been through this often enough that they all knew the drill. He slipped past Leonardo at the door and raced down the stairs to the kitchen. The three shook their heads.

Some things never changed.

Leo smiled softly and leaned against the doorframe. “You gave us quite the scare. Don’t you ever do that again. Please . That hour we spent thinking you were dead was the longest of our lives .”

“Believe me, I wasn’t tryin’ to scare ya this time.” He cocked his head at his brother curiously. “Where’s Master Splinter?”

“I am here my son.” The elderly rat stepped past his oldest son, a hand tracing along Leo’s arm as he passed.

Weaving gracefully between their legs, the little black stray followed.

He'd made a full recovery in the days following the incident at the docks, and a week of good food had only helped him further. His coat had taken on a healthy shine, and he'd even managed to put on a little weight. Claws clicking on the stone floor, he made a beeline for the bed and hopped up. The little mutt had claimed a spot against Raph’s side on the second day, and nothing but the necessaries had been able to tear him away from it. He definitely hadn't expected Raph to be awake today.

Plumed tail wagging at ninety miles an hour, the stray made a happy whine and cuddled up to the startled terrapin’s chest.

“Hey pooch! What are you still doin’ here?” He greeted.

Donnie grinned, fondling the ears of his own dog seated at his feet. “Seems he took a shine to your crabby shell.” The techno turtle teased.

“What?”

“He saved your life Raphael.” Leo folded his arms, leaning more heavily on the door frame. “He was in the backpack when the Purple Dragons threw you off the end of the pier. When we found you, you’d washed up under a dock downstream. He'd wiggled out of your pack and was braced against a pilon. The mutt had your bandana tails in his teeth and was holding your head up so you didn't drown. He kept you alive for about two hours till we could get to you. And he’s stuck close to you ever since.”

Donnie poked at Raph’s arm. “I think he's decided to keep you Raph.”

“Seriously? Why the shell would ya pick me pooch?”

The stray yipped and wriggled in his grasp, nuzzling the taciturn turtle’s hands. The hothead’s face softened, and he buried his fingers in the stray’s long coat. Almost sheepishly, he looked to Splinter.

“Can I keep ‘im Dad?”

The elderly rat’s whiskers twitched in amusement. “He will need a name.”

Raphael’s face lit up. “Really? You mean it Sensei?”

“Of course.”

Leo grinned at his younger brother’s obvious delight. “So what do you think Raph? What are you going to call your shadow? You only get one shot, so you better pick a good one the first time around.”

Raph grinned and cuddled his new pet. “I think you guys already named ‘im. He’s been shadowing me since he got here, I guess Shadow is as good a name as any.”

Out in the hall with a bowl of soup, Mikey gave a delighted cackle. “Hey Raph, you’re gonna have to work on your stealth once you’re back on your feet! You’re really going to need all the help you can get?”

Donnie sighed. “I’m going to regret asking this… why?”

“Because he’s going to have a shell of a time hiding in a Shadow that small!”

“MIKEY!”

(Inspiration for Shadow)

Chapter Text

Winter brought out the best and worst in people. 

It was almost December. The turtles had been running themselves ragged trying to keep the peace. As they approached the holiday season, the humans of the city became almost frantic to finish their Christmas shopping lists. And of course, the criminals were more than happy to take advantage of the overabundance of cash and careless victims. But that was on the surface.

Down here in the sewers, there was nothing but joy.

Leo smiled as he watched his brothers play. Somehow, they had gotten into a ‘mine is better than yours’ competition over their animals. It had started when Shadow managed to reach the tennis ball before Tungsten could. Raphael had laughed, proudly proclaiming that his dog was the fastest, hands down. To which Donnie had agreed. 

“...but mine is the best trained.” 

The techno turtle had put Tungsten through his paces. Sit. Stay. Lay Down. Roll Over. Shake. All of the usual doggy commands. And Raph looked grudgingly impressed. It might have ended there. But Leo knew it wouldn’t. He could see Mikey standing behind them.

Splinter came to stand beside Leo, a cup of tea in one furry paw.

Leo smiled. “And...3...2...1…” he whispered.

“Hey guys, you arguing over who has the second best pet in the lair?” Mikey launched himself over the back of the couch. Tucked safely away in his arms, Klunk didn’t even tense, trusting that Mikey would never drop him or allow him to be hurt. “I mean, I think it’s pretty obvious to all that Klunk is the most kick-shell pet, let’s be honest here.” 

Donnie folded his arms. “Is that so? And what exactly puts Klunk at the top of the list?”

“Well, for one thing he trusts me completely, no matter what. Watch!” 

The youngest turtle took off, turning one handed cartwheels, somersaults, hand springs, and back flips. Never once did the tabby panic or try to catch himself. The youngest turtle finished with one last barrel roll across the floor back to the others. 

“See? He  totally knows that I would never drop him! And he can hang on by himself if I need my hands free. He just clings to my shell!” Mikey put the orange tabby on his carapace over one shoulder. “Hold on Klunkers!”

The cat immediately flattened himself against Mikey’s shell and dug in his claws. The turtle threw himself back into the impromptu tumbling routine from before. Except this time he added flying leaps, kicks, and punches to the mix of cartwheels and flips, and cut out the somersaults entirely. 

His watching family felt sure that Klunk would let go when Mikey brought out the nun-chucks. But Klunk didn’t. Though the metal capped wood whistled through the air and bounced off the shell barely inches away from the cat, Klunk never once blinked. He just pulled his tail up closer to his body so Mikey could use more of his shell’s surface. The youngest turtle finished his display and retrieved his pet from his carapace. 

Klunk purred, rubbing his head against Mikey’s chin.

“You see guys?” Mikey beamed. “Besides, a cat is the closest you can get to having a ninja for a pet. What with their hidden claws and the way they move so quietly, and how they always land on their feet! Cat’s rule ! End of discussion… Raph on the other hand is the closest you can come to having a grizzly bear for a pet. Hey Donnie, think we could find him a collar and a leash?” He sidled a little closer. Putting on a fake Australian accent, he pointed at Raph and looked dramatically at Donnie, as if his brother were a TV audience. “There he is boys and girls. One a the rarest , most crankiest creatures you could ever hope to find in a sewer! The rare Grizzly Bear Snapping Turtle! One whiff of his morning breath, and I’m dead! ….I’m gonna touch it!”

“Alright! That’s it!” Raphael exploded off the couch, Shadow darting at his heels.

Mikey shrieked and threw his cat back over his shoulder. “Hold on Klunkers!” Adopting the Steve Irwin accent again he raced away, yelling ‘He’s angry! He’s angry!’ at the top of his not inconsiderable lungs. 

Laughing, Donnie raced after them, hoping to at least rescue the cat from Raph’s wrath. Tungsten and Shadow woofed and chased after the whole wild cavalcade.

With all the racket, no one noticed Leonardo laughing so hard he could barely breathe. 

“Ma-maybe we should cut-cut back on Mikey’s animal p-planet exposure.” Leo panted between giggles. 

“That would probably be wise.” Splinter agreed. The two locked eyes, matching twinkles silently promising that neither one really meant it. It was good to have some levity in the lair. The more the merrier in fact. 

The elderly rat twitched his whiskers. “It brings up a question I have been meaning to ask you. Your brothers have all acquired pets in one way or another. Michelangelo takes excellent care of his cat, and Tungsten takes excellent care of Donatello. Even Raphael has found himself an unlikely friend. And it has caused me to wonder: Do you too, long for an animal companion?” 

Leo bowed his head under his father’s shrewd eyes. “I have three brothers. What time would I have for a pet of my own?” 

Splinter inclined his head. “As you wish. However. Should you ever wish to take a pet of your own, I want you to be aware that the option is there. I cannot grant the opportunity to one son and deny the others. Or grant it to the others and deny the one.” His whiskers twitched around his smile. “For what it is worth, this old rat believes that such a companion might be good for you.” 

Leo cocked his head, curious in spite of himself. “In what way Sensei?” 

“That remains to be seen.” The elderly rat shrugged. “Pets can have an odd effect on their owners. I had forgotten that. But I have seen the effect on each of your brothers. Michelangelo embraced the responsibility wholeheartedly. Donatello leaves his lab for Tungsten’s sake, and as a result he has become more engaged with his family. And his health has improved. And Raphael’s outbursts of anger have become less frequent. He sleeps better at night with his dog at his side. And it has given him a topic upon which to bond with Donatello and Michelangelo… The decision is yours my son. I only ask that you consider it, before dismissing the idea out of hand.”

Leo folded his hands and gave a respectful bow. “Hai, Sensei. I will think about it. As you say, I’ve seen the effect the dogs and Klunk have had on my brothers… Maybe a pet wouldn’t be so bad. I’ll think about it.” 

“Think carefully my son. And take your time. Such decisions are not made lightly.” A high pitched shriek resounded through the lair, accompanied by excited barking and Raphael’s yells. Master Splinter sighed and took a sip of his tea. “In the meantime, would you please see to it that Raphael does not duct tape Michelangelo to the wall of the lair again?”

Leo laughed and headed in the direction he’d last seen his brothers. “Right away Sensei.”

Leo dropped the newspaper on his desk with a groan.

Splinter’s quiet suggestion wouldn’t let him be. Had he thought about getting a pet? Of course he had. Every child dreamed of having a pet of their own at one point or another. How realistic that dream might be was up for debate, but they all had dreams. 

He was embarrassed to admit that he had a Ziploc bag full of childhood drawings in the bottom of his footlocker. Some were his, most belonged to his brothers. Mikey in particular, as his youngest brother loved to draw and paint. But among the wild depictions of turtles dressed in all manner of costumes and colorful creatures that could’ve been almost anything, were dreams of pets. Including one dream of his seven year old self, who had desperately wanted to ride an elephant. Raphael had wanted a black and white rabbit. Go figure.

The newspaper pulled his gaze back like a magnet.

He’d opened it to the classifieds. Specifically the pet section. A lot of it was for pet supplies that people didn’t have a use for anymore, and wanted to get rid of. But there were pets too. A lot of reptiles were on offer, snakes and lizards galore in the city that never sleeps. A part of him thought a snake might be cool. But it was a little too close to home, being a reptile himself. The thought weirded him out just a little too much. Maybe another time. Frogs and lizards were just as bad. And a turtle? 

Just...no.

Besides, he couldn’t stop thinking of the way stroking the sleek fur of the dogs soothed him. The way Klunk always seemed to know when he was upset, and drape himself across Leo’s closest stationary body part, purring like a demon. The way Tungsten and Shadow followed Don and Raph everywhere. The adoring look in their eyes. The way Klunk favored Mikey over everyone else and cuddled the youngest turtle mercilessly. A reptile or amphibian wouldn’t do any of that.

He definitely wanted a mammal. 

The terrapin skimmed the entries. There. There were some puppies for sale. He frowned. GSD? What on earth kind of breed was a GSD? He kept skimming. Bernese Mountain Dogs, Yorkies, Staffordshire Terriers. Five hundred, six hundred, a couple thousand dollars for a pup! Leo shook his head and dropped the paper. He had no idea what any of those breeds were, let alone had that kind of cash. And shelter rescues could be just as expensive.

“I could just go looking for a stray…” He muttered. 

For a second, he entertained the idea. Then discarded it with a sigh. They’d been incredibly fortunate with the two strays that Raph had brought home. Neither one had been sick, and miraculously neither one had brought fleas or lice or other creepy crawlies into the house. Donnie had had to remove a tick or two, but that was about it. And both Tungsten and Shadow had taken to the family like fish to water. There was no guarantee that the dog he found and brought home would be the same. He would be heartbroken if he brought an animal home and a member of his family got hurt.

No. He couldn’t do it.

Leo balled up the newspaper and tossed it in the trash can. There would be no pet for him. The well being of his family and their pets was more than enough responsibility without his adding to it. He unrolled his meditation matt in the middle of the floor and settled down cross legged. 

If the thought of warm fur under his fingers was more of a distraction than usual, well, no one would know but him.

Days passed. 

Weeks passed. 

Master Splinter didn’t bring up the subject again. Leo was grateful for that. He wasn’t sure what he would’ve said if Splinter had asked. Now that the idea had been broached, it wouldn’t leave the blue clad leader alone! 

Every time he turned on the television: Bam! A commercial for pet food. Every time Mikey picked a movie lately: Wham! Animal movie. Like Homeward Bound , or One Hundred and One Dalmatians . Leo was dreading the day that Mikey got the urge to dig out their copy of Marley & Me . Every time Leo picked up a book to read: Smack! Surprise, the beloved pet dies heroically saving the protagonist! And every time he turned around: Boom! There was Shadow, or Tungsten, or Klunk. Just laying there, watching him. Or nosing him in a silent bid to be pet.

He couldn’t escape it!

And his brothers had started to notice that something was eating at him. Leo huffed as Don shot him another concerned look from the workbench across the lair. He’d been doing that a lot lately. At his feet, Tungsten caught him looking and pricked up his ears, his tale giving a little wag. 

Shadow was curled up in a tight pretzel in the hollow between Tungsten’s knee and belly, fast asleep. They weren’t sure when it had started, but it was fast becoming a habit. Whenever Raph was training, Shadow would go find Tungsten. He would then proceed to cuddle up with his buddy and take a nap until Raph finished and came looking for him. Even now, Leo could hear Raph going to town on his punching bag. 

Which just left Mikey.

Seeing as how their youngest wasn’t in front of the T.V., and no alarming noises were coming from the kitchen… that just left one place. 

Leo looked up. 

Michelangelo was up near the ceiling on one of the stone rafters. The turtle was flat on his belly, comic book in hand. Assorted junk foods were scattered around, a large bottle of water was close at hand, yet more comic books stacked neatly nearby. And curled up on top of Mikey’s shell was an orange ball of tabby fluff. Leo couldn’t help but smile at the sight. 

He sighed and went to stick his head into Master Splinter’s room. 

“Master Splinter? Is it ok if I go for a solo run?”

The elderly rat pricked up his ears. “Is everything alright my son?”

“Hai, Sensei. I just felt like going for a run.” 

His father nodded. He shuffled around on his mat to face Leo more directly. “Very well. Be sure to take you cell phone with you. And inform one of your brothers of where you are intending to go. Remain below ground. And know that I expect you to return in time to join your brothers on patrol tonight.”

“Yes Sensei.” 

“Then go.” He smiled. “Have a good run Leonardo.”

Leo trotted back through the lair. “Donny, I’m going out for a run.” he called, shrugging on the winter gear he would need to stay warm out in the tunnels. 

April and Casey had gifted them with new coats, boots, hats, and gloves at thanksgiving. Now winter had set in with a vengeance, and they couldn’t be more grateful to their human friends. It hadn’t escaped his notice that they had color coded the gifts to each turtle. For instance, his coat, hat, and gloves were various shades of dark blue. Raph’s were dark shades of red. Donnie’s a deep violet, and Mikey’s a rich orange umber. Even Splinter had received a set, his in beautiful ambers. Nothing bright that would overly attract the eye. Subdued enough that the turtles could hide if need be without too much trouble. Their thoughtfulness was touching.

Donatello looked up from his project. “Oh. Ok… Oh! Hey Leo, hang on a sec!”

Leonardo paused at the door, curious.

Donnie bustled around the workbench, then hurried over. A small plastic bag was in his hands. He dropped it in Leonardo’s outstretched palm with an air of triumph.

“I’m trying out a new set of tracking devices. I’m hoping to increase their range, and make them harder to block. Now I’m ready to test them. I was going to hide them on patrol tonight, but if you’re going to be running around the sewers for a while, could you just hide them out there? They’re completely waterproof, so don’t worry about them getting wet. I just want to see if all the dirt, and metal, and cement will interfere with the signals. I can test for distance later.”

Leo laughed warmly and tucked them into his pocket. “Sure Don.”

“You don’t mind?” 

“Of course not. Do you want me to tell you where I hid them?”

Donnie smirked. “Nope. I’ll wait until tomorrow, then give Mikey the handheld. I’ll tell him that it’s a high tech scavenger hunt. And if he finds all six of them, he gets a prize.”

“So I should really work on hiding them.” 

“You should. I want him to find them because the trackers work, not because he’s just that good a ‘seeker’.”

Leo gave a mock salute.

Then he was out the door and into the tunnels beyond. This late in December, the sewage water that normally ran through the aqueducts was frozen. The smell that always accompanied it was now a barely there whiff in the icy air. 

Not being able to smell was one of the few good things about winter for a being that was semi-cold blooded. 

Leo huffed out a breath, watching it hang in the air in front of his face. Shaking his head in amusement, the terrapin set off into the tunnels. His thick coat, snow pants, and boots, were more than enough to combat the cold. 

Leaving him free to enjoy the winter wonderland the tunnels around his home had become. 

Fantastic shapes had been created in the ice. Where the water would normally be choppy, it had formed into graceful sculptures and frozen there. The tunnels that were closer to the surface had icicles hanging from the grates, and snow had fallen through to blanket the sewer floor in a gentle white cover. Pipes that normally poured little rivulets of water now boasted beautiful white waterfalls frozen in time and space. Hoarfrost climbed up the sewer walls in graceful mossy patterns. Feathers of it coated the pipes in the walls and ceilings.

The one time of the year when the sewers were beautiful. 

Christmas music drifted down through sewer grates and manholes. Leo hummed along as he jogged, eyeing the walls and pipes for places to hide Donnie’s tracers. Besides, it was appropriate for this errand. 

“...jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way…” He sang, softly so the people up on the street wouldn’t hear. The run wasn’t just about escaping the longing for a pet, and the reminder that it was a bad idea. Today, he was on a mission. 

Christmas was just two days away, and he was going to retrieve presents.

As all three of his brothers were highly skilled ninjas, and his father a ninjutsu master, hiding things became a nigh on impossible feat. Naturally, this made things like birthdays and Christmas incredibly challenging. Or at least, hiding the presents was challenging. 

Good thing Leo liked a challenge.

Unfortunately, so did his brothers. Once they’d realized he was trying to hide something from them, they’d immediately set out to find out what it was. Leo had been upset at first, but had quickly gotten over it. Instead he took it as a test of his ingenuity, to him and to his brothers. Him to hide the gifts, his brothers to find them. He could’ve asked Master Splinter if he could store them in his room, none of his brothers would dare to ransack their father’s quarters. But where was the fun in that?

So Leo tried to be creative. 

Secret panels in pieces of furniture were too cliche. And holes in the floor were too difficult or impossible down here in the brick and concrete sewers. 

He'd had to try something a little bit less drastic. 

Like duct taping wrapped presents to the underside of furniture. Hey, it was cliche for a reason. That had worked for a while... Until Mikey and Raph had gotten into an argument and knocked the couch over. Leo had walked in to find all three brothers sitting on the floor with their Christmas gifts in hand. Christmas being three months away (he'd been way ahead of the game that year), it was safe to say that they shouldn't have had them. Mikey had already torn into his. (What? It had my name on it! This is awesome Leo, I love it!) Leo had let the others open theirs as well, as it wasn't fair to make them wait when Mikey had gotten his. 

Thank god they'd found the gifts three months in advance, it had given him plenty of time to find replacements.

He'd tried putting them up in high places next. 

For the life of him, he couldn't understand why he had thought that would ever work. They were ninjas for crying out loud! Raph's birthday present had been found in an hour. To be fair, Leo hadn't exactly expected Mikey to crawl across the tops of the cabinets in the kitchen . 

The rafters hadn’t worked for a similar reason. 

And if he accidentally put a gift somewhere that Mikey’s cat Klunk liked to sleep? The orange tabby had no problem batting it out of the way. Usually right off the edge and down onto the floor where anyone could see it. 

Leo thought Klunk batted the gifts into plain sight just to spite him.

The gift underneath the dirt in the potted plant had made it a month before Donny had decided to re-pot the geranium. April had given it to them for the purpose of 'brightening up' the lair. And heaven forbid they let ‘Jerry’ the pink geranium get even a smidge root-bound.

The box in the garage had been found in a week after Raph's motorcycle unexpectedly broke down. 

The laundry room had been a joke. 

He absolutely refused to even consider hiding anything in the dojo. And his room just wasn't an option. Too sparsely furnished, there just weren't any good spots in there. And his brothers had absurdly easy access to it. If he wanted to beat them in this game, he couldn’t give them an inch of leeway. So, Leo had started looking outside the lair.

The first few tries had been abysmal failures. 

What good was hiding a gift from your family if the hiding place slowly but utterly destroyed the gift? Leo started putting the gifts in plastic bags and duct taping the openings shut. 

Then New York had exceptionally heavy rain one spring. Leo started double and triple bagging, and everything got duct taped closed. 

A floodgate was opened somewhere  else in the sewers, resulting in sudden flash floods. Leo still hadn't found a couple of the gifts that got washed away. Now everything, still double and triple bagged, got put in a plastic tote or garbage sack and tied to a pipe. 

He hadn't had any trouble for some time now. 

The fact that they couldn't find the gifts was incredibly frustrating for his brothers, who prided themselves on their abilities as ninjas. He wasn't even sure they were aware that he wasn't hiding them in the lair anymore. But it was only a matter of time till they figured it out.

Until then, he was going to take advantage of it. 

He slipped into a side tunnel, careful not to leave footprints in the patches of snow. This was the best place he'd found yet, and he knew Mikey would be scouring the tunnels tomorrow for Don’s trackers. He wasn't going to give it away that easily. 

It was a small side room. Sort of an access hatch. A door at the other end had been grated off. He'd never bothered to try and get in, all he could see in there was a rat's nest of pipes. The grate had been welded in, so it wasn’t likely that they’d use this route even if they did need to access that room.

In the back corner was a plastic tote hidden behind some piping. A bike chain had been run through the handle, then fastened to a pipe to keep it from washing away. It was dirty, and a little banged up. But it hadn't broken, and the duct tape around the edges to help keep the damp out was still in place. 

Leonardo smiled and slit the tape. 

Inside the box was a large black backpack. Inside the backpack were seven individually wrapped packages. All of them had been double bagged in plastic bags and duct taped closed to keep their contents safe. He had wrapped them almost immediately, to reduce the chances of his brothers seeing what he'd gotten them. 

He was especially proud of himself this year. 

Seeing as how Don's computer skills were the only skill that was both marketable and had the potential to be anonymous, there wasn't a lot of money coming into the family at any given time. In that way, he just didn't have much to offer. Sure, he and the others were good at scrounging under grates for loose change, but they never brought in more than twenty dollars a night. Usually less. But Don did. And every penny was hoarded against the hard times, because their pride wouldn't let them rely on April or Casey's charity. If their human friends bought them groceries, then they would damn well be paid for them. 

So, gifts were either scavenged or crafted. 

The trick was finding something that your family would find useful, and didn't currently have. Leo had plenty of memories of Splinter smiling and gracefully accepting yet another childish creation when they were young. Ultimately useless, even as a decoration, but he would nonetheless tell them how much he appreciated the gift. And he would carefully take the bit of badly whittled wood, or hodge podge collection of nuts and bolts, or badly folded origami, and put it up onto a shelf where it would be safe. And he would tell them how much he appreciated their thoughtfulness. 

The shelf had become somewhat crowded over the years. Inevitably, things had disappeared. It wasn't until years later that they realized he'd been moving them from the shelf into a sturdy box. Splinter had never gotten rid of a single one. After they’d moved, Splinter had had his sons install a shelf in his room, and all of the bits and pieces had made a reappearance.

Leo counted the packages, making sure he had all of them.

They were all there, just as he’d left them. No one had found them. It would be safe to bring them back to the lair. He and his brothers had worked it out that the challenge was put on hold three days before the birthday or holiday. His brothers wouldn’t search. He didn’t need to hide them. 

Leo reapplied the tape to keep the box clean, then headed for home.

The foot ninja slipped softly into the chamber. 

The oiled hinges made barely a whisper as the heavy door swung open and closed. A dark and menacing pall hung in the still air. Torchlight flickered, and candles littered the floor and dais. Upon the raised platform sat Oroku Saki. The Shredder. 

The foot ninja dropped to his knees and bowed his head.

“Master.” 

The quiet honorific was barely a breath in the silent room. A humble request from a flea, that the god might notice it. But it was enough. The flea had brought something of interest to the god.

“Speak.”

“The turtle leader has been spotted. It is in the tunnels near the bay, and has remained in the area for almost ten minutes. We do not know it’s intent.”

Saki’s eyes snapped open. “Alert the proper personnel. Chase him into the bay. And make certain that nets are prepared to catch him. I want him brought before me alive.”

“Unharmed?” 

“That is not required.”

“Yes my master. It shall be as you command.”

The roar of water was the first Leo knew that something was wrong. 

Leo hurriedly dropped the last of the trackers in his backpack. Chances were good he might need his hands, and he didn’t want to lose Donnie’s tracker. If it got washed down a drain or something, Mikey would have no way of knowing. And he’d probably half kill himself trying to get it. Better to just throw it in the bag and hide it later once he was sure he was safe.

Leo put the backpack back on, eyes scanning for whatever was amiss.

A wall of water whipped around the corner. It slammed into the turtle with all the force of a stampeding elephant. It battered the breath right out of his body, and swept his feet out from under him. The shock of the cold came next, and it stole what little air he had left. He instinctively inhaled, and his lungs filled with water. He choked. Inhaled again.

His backpack was his saving grace. 

His plastic lined backpack, and the plastic wrapped packages it contained. Air had been trapped inside the plastic! And it pulled him up to the surface like his own personal floaty strapped to his shell. Leo hacked and coughed, spitting water as soon as his head broke the surface. Then he slammed into a wall and the current dragged him down again. Over and over. He’d get a breath, maybe two if he could grab hold of a pipe. And then it was stolen from him again. The cycle seemed to go on forever.

With a final thrust and a roar, the flood threw him out into the open air.

Leonardo landed in the bay with a loud crack of shell against water, and then he was drowning again. Tumbling over and over as the current swept him further along into the harbor. Panic bubbled up in his chest. He kicked and thrashed in the murky water, unable to see anything. He didn’t know which way was up! What if he swam the wrong way? He’d drown before he knew he was wrong. What if…

Stop! Calm down, or the panic will kill you!

Leonardo went still. He couldn’t panic. He didn’t dare. Master Splinter always told them that true ninjas were masters not just of their bodies, but of their minds as well. He wouldn’t panic. He would control himself, and he would figure out which way was up. He would make it out of this. 

His backpack tugged at his shoulders. 

Of course! It had bubbles of air trapped inside! He hung there a few seconds longer, making sure he knew which way was up. Then he kicked off. Leonardo surged upward, the backpack speeding his assent. He broke the surface with a gasp. He never thought smoggy New York air would taste so sweet.

“There it is!” 

“Net it! Quick!”

Heavy rope nets dropped over him. They wrapped around Leo’s arms and legs, tangling with his gear. Weighing him down. There were boats on either side of him. Foot soldiers leaned over the side to grab him. Gloved hands grasped at the nets. 

“Lift him up! Lift him up!” 

“Master Shredder wants this one alive.”

Leonardo lashed out. No way he was going to be taken without a fight. They were pulling him out of the water feet first. He took advantage of it. A heel slammed into a foot soldier’s nose with more than enough force to break it. 

“Grab him!” 

“Secure the turtle you idiot!” 

“Step aside.” 

A burly ninja shoved the others aside. With a vicious snarl, he leaned out and struck Leonardo in the temple with the butt of a harpoon.

Leo’s world went black.

A ping alerted Donnie.

He watched as one of his new trackers abruptly started moving at speeds far superior to anything the turtles could manage without wheels. The little blip zipped through the tunnels, and in minutes it had been washed out into the bay.

Donnie sighed and went back to work. 

Leo must’ve accidentally dropped one in the water. He’d have to remember to tell Mikey to discount that one when he sent the youngest turtle out to find them later. As amusing as the idea of letting him figure it out on his own was, it wouldn’t be fair to Mikey. And knowing him, he’d probably half kill himself trying to get the tracer back. Better to just tell him to ignore it.

Donnie didn’t see the tracker start moving back to shore.

The Shredder surveyed his prey.

The soggy turtle was currently laying in a puddle on his hardwood floors. He hadn’t so much as twitched since they’d flopped him down like a sack of grain. A large, purpleing bruise on his temple was more than likely the cause. Irritation nibbled at the villian. The one time a turtle fell into his lap, and he didn’t have the time to enjoy it. Things had come up in the legitimate side of his business that desperately required his immediate attention. He didn’t, strictly speaking, need the cover of his legitimate enterprises. But they were useful, and he wouldn’t lightly lose them.

“Hun.” The word was both summons and command.

The leader of the purple dragons bowed, awaiting orders.

“I have no time today to give Leonardo the attention he deserves. He will have to await my pleasure. However, I do not relish the idea of a turtle infestation in my home.” The crime lord made a dismissive motion. “Take him to our installation outside the city. So long as he is returned to me alive, I care not what is done with him.”

“Yes, my master.” Hun murmured.

Satisfied, Shredder dismissed them.

The massive purple dragon grabbed the unconscious turtle by the back of his shell and hauled him away. Plans were already forming in his mind, things he could do to take his revenge on the turtle. Things that would hurt him, but would leave him alive enough to satisfy the master. Hun had a lot of ideas.

Leonardo slumbered on.

He woke to darkness.

Leonardo peered through slitted eyes. The room was cold and dim. Little light filtered in, but it was enough to show him the bars of his prison. He was in some sort of cage. It had vertical bars attached to a solid steel ceiling and floor. The type of cage you would expect to see a dangerous circus animal in back in the day. The door was bolted closed with an old padlock. 

All in all, things could’ve been worse.

His head throbbing, the terrapin pushed himself upright. He’d been stripped of his weapons, because of course he had. The henchmen that Hun and Shredder typically hired weren’t necessarily the brightest crayons in the box, but even they knew better than to leave weapons in the hands of a skilled opponent. Unfortunately for them, their skilled opponent was a turtle. And he had a trick or two up his sleeve. 

Or shell, as the case may be. 

Thick but nimble fingers felt along the upper edge of his shell. Found the hollow left over from when he and his brothers had still been small enough to curl up inside their shells and hide from the world. Those days were long gone now, but a small part of the hollow remained. Taped to the inside with medical grade tape, was a set of lock picks. 

After all, a ninja was prepared for every eventuality. 

Picking the lock took him less than a minute. He would’ve been done sooner, if his fingers hadn’t been a little stiff from the cold. The cage door swung open, and he cautiously crept out. The room wasn’t overly wide. Tall though. Cement walls rose far above his head in great twenty foot planes.The room was shaped like an octagon, and he could see windows up near the ceiling. In the gloom, he thought he could just barely make out the shapes of high powered spotlights. No way he could climb all the way up those smooth concrete walls. Not without his shuko spikes, and sadly those had disappeared with his belt, pads, weapons, and mask. 

The more obvious route then. 

On the ground level, were three doors. One was a normal sized door, heavy steel hung on powerful hinges. There was no door handle on the inside. But a metal plate welded over where the handle should’ve been. No slot, or peephole. Normally, his next instinct would be to attack the hinges, but the door had been hung on one massive piano hinge. There wasn’t a pin he could pull out. Nor any screws that he could try to work loose, as the hinge had been welded to the door. 

He turned his attention to the other two doors.

They were much smaller, barely coming up to Leo’s hip. But they were made of the same material as their larger counterpart. He could find no handle, nor even hinges. Pushing on them did no good. As near as he could tell, they were set into grooves in the concrete. So unless he could break solid cement like the heroes in Mikey’s comic books, he wasn’t going to get out that way either.

Whoever had built this room, had built a prison indeed.

The lights suddenly flared to life. Leonardo instinctively closed his eyes against the sudden glare, bringing up his hands to shield them. Staring straight down while he waited for his eyes to adjust, he noted the sickening brown stains splashed across the cement floor. There were a lot of brown splashes. 

A loud clang sounded behind him.

Leonardo didn’t think. He just acted. The turtle flung himself away from the sound, tucking into a roll and coming back up onto his feet ready to fight. 

It was just as well he had.

The closer of the two small doors lifted up with a quick slither of metal on cement. A deep chested growl sounded from the darkness beyond. An instant later, something exploded out into the light. Leo wasn’t sure what he was fighting. All he got was a vague impression of dark, and fur, and teeth. The thing made a beeline for him, and he stopped thinking.

 Act, and react.

Pain lanced up his arm. He felt bone snap under his kick. Lines of fire raced down his leg in retaliation. He laced his fingers and brought the doubled fists down on the beast’s back. The animal yowled and came at him again.

The fight lasted hours. 

Or maybe it was minutes. He couldn’t tell. It felt like forever. It probably wasn’t. The animal lay dead at his feet. It was a dog. Mangy and emaciated, Leo was actually surprised it had managed to put up as much of a fight as it had. He wasn’t sure what breed it might have been before. All it was now was dead. 

The loud clang sounded again. 

The first door had closed during the fight. Now the other one slid open with a menacing grind. A snarl and the scrape of claws on concrete was the only warning he had before another dog came barreling out of the dark. Just as vicious and bloodthirsty as the first, there would be no trying to sooth the animal.

Leonardo leapt to the fight.

Hun smirked as he watched the turtle fight. 

He’d been irritated when the turtle had managed to escape the cage. He still wasn’t sure how he’d managed it. His  men had sworn up and down that they’d stripped him of everything he’d been carrying. Apparently not. Next time, Hun would oversee the search personally. 

Though, if the turtle had swallowed the picks, there wasn’t much that could be done about it.

Another dog died.

The leader of the purple dragons laughed. Dog after dog had been thrown into the ring, and so far the turtle had won each time. But it was clear that he hated to put them down. Far above the fight, spectators watched each battle, betting on the outcome. 

It had become clear that the ‘Terrifying Turtle’ was the clear contender. He’d beaten all comers in a matter of minutes, and betting had switched from ‘who will win’ to ‘how fast will the turtle put the dog down’. Hun would have to acquire and train more fighting dogs at some point in the near future. But for now, the turtle vs dog fights were bringing in plenty of cash. Well more than the dogs had been worth.

“Sir…”

The mountain of a man glared at the sniveling lackey. “What?”

“Um… We don’t have many more dogs. We lost more of our stock than we expected during our last brawl. We haven’t replaced them yet.”

“How many do we have left?” 

“Ten.”

Hun considered, then waved a hand dismissively. “Throw another five at him. Then we’ll call it a night.” He grabbed the dragon before he could step away. “Make sure the next dogs are let in in sets of two and three. We’ll see how well he does when the odds are stacked against him. Make sure the cage handlers are ready with the tranqs if he goes down. Master Shredder doesn’t care if he’s hurt, he just wants him alive.”

“Yes sir.”

The doors didn’t open.

It was almost a shock. So many ravening dogs had come flying through those doors, one right after another. It was bizarre to him that it should finally stop. 

Leonardo finally took stock of his surroundings.

The floor had plenty of new stains. Scattered all around him were the furry bodies of his opponents.Some had succumbed to deadly pressure points. Others had fallen to too much blunt force, or strangulation. But most… most had died of broken necks. It was the quickest, kindest death he could give them.

The lights went out. 

Leo slowly dropped to his hands and knees. He panted for breath. He didn’t know how long he’d been fighting for his life, but it had been non-stop since the first mangy cur had cleared the chute.

“Sleep well turtle.” Hun’s voice taunted over a speaker somewhere above. “We’ll have new opponents for you soon enough!”

Leonardo waited, but there was nothing else.

Exhausted, he flopped over onto his side. His carapace bumped one of the corpses. It jerked away from him with snarl. Leo’s blood ran cold. Alive. One of the dogs was still alive ! He slowly edged away, and rolled so that he could see it over the edge of his shell. He couldn’t see it clearly in the dim light. 

But what he could see filled him with dread.

It was big. A long, pale, shaggy coat  stuck up in all directions. It made the animal look like a porcupine on steroids. With a growl that sounded more confused than threatening, the dog slowly rolled to its feet. It glared guardedly around the room, before fixating on the turtle. Yeah, no, Leonardo wasn’t about to be caught lying down for a dog fight.

He slowly rose to his feet.

The growl got louder. Unsure what else to do, but really not wanting to fight again so soon, Leo growled back. He glared at the animal, with all his might, raising his shoulders and holding his arms out a little to make himself look bigger and more threatening. To his surprise, the dog dropped it’s gaze and went to lay down by the opposite wall. Well, maybe he wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to fight anymore. If the dog would stay to his side of the room, Leo had no objections.

He settled down on the other side of the room.

Wary as he was, he could never be sure when exactly he drifted off.

He woke to a scuffle.

Leonardo came awake ready for a fight. He grimaced, furious with himself for falling asleep and leaving himself vulnerable. Any number of nasty things could’ve happened while he was out.

The room had gotten both more and less crowded while he slept. 

There were robots in the room. Most of them looked fairly simple. Crude things, like what Donnie might build for fun. Or the blocky droids from Star Wars. Looking like a bunch of rusty building blocks on treads, they scuttled around the room. Mechanical arms extended from slots to grab the stiffened canine corpses and drag them back out through the small doors.

Seeing one of the doors slide open to allow a robot entry, Leo dove for it.

Electricity crackled through the door. It flung him back hard, his shell smacking against the concrete with a sickening slap. It wasn’t cracked or broken thankfully, but he’d definitely learned his lesson. The little doors were an absolute ‘no go’. The robot completely ignored him, scooting around him to go fetch another dog out of the arena. 

A snarl drew his attention.

One robot was different from the others. It was bigger than the rest, broader, with arms that were far more articulated. It moved faster too. Given its current job, it made sense. The robot had been sent to fetch the dog that had survived. It had managed to fasten a muzzle over the dog’s head, the kind with a wire cage over the mouth rather than the soft fabric ones. One metallic hand gripped the muzzle, while the other gripped a ragged collar around the animal’s neck. It was dragging the dog back towards one of the small sliding doors. 

The dog was having none of it. Growling and snarling, the dog had spread its legs wide and braced its powerful body against the machine. A tug of war, in which the opponents were almost equally matched.

Almost.

Ignoring logic, Leonardo flew across the room in the space of an instant. Precise kicks to the joints of the arms snapped the mechanisms inside. The hands fell open, and the dog stumbled back. Leo kicked the bot once more, just for good measure, then pushed the dog back and away from its would be kidnapper. More snarls and the caged snap of teeth were his only thanks. He ignored the posturing in favor of watching the robot. Dragging its useless arms behind it, the bot retreated back the way it had come. None of the others went anywhere near the dog, but Leo was careful to stay between it and them anyway.

Eventually, the robots cleared the room.

One returned, putting a plate with a small portion of food down on the concrete before scuttling back out. Leo eyed the dish suspiciously. It would be so easy for Hun to drug the food. Or the water, if they decided to provide it. Leo was betting they would. He’d seen the man with the rifle at one of the windows during the fighting. They’d been ready to step in if Leo didn’t win. Which meant that they wanted him alive for the time being. Hurt, or possibly drugged, but alive. 

His stomach rumbled.

From the other side of the room, Leo heard the dog sniff the air. An idea presented itself in a flash. He scooped up the plate and carried it over to the far side of the room. The dog shrank back against the wall, growling at his approach. But it knew just as well as he did that so long as the muzzle was in place Leo had the upper hand. 

The turtle grabbed the muzzle, holding it steady.

With the other hand, he pushed a small piece of bread through the muzzle’s bars. It took the dog a few seconds to understand what he was trying to do. The massive animal stopped struggling. Not seeming to believe what was happening, it swallowed the little scrap of food.

“Good boy.” Leonardo whispered. “Or at least I’m assuming you’re a boy. I should probably check, but I don’t want to freak you out...” 

The dog just stared back at him.

Leo sighed and sat back against the wall, careful to keep hold of the dog so it couldn’t get away. He’d check gender later.

They sat in silence in the dusky room. Now and again the dog would shift, or huff a breath. But it didn’t try to pull away from Leo. He hadn’t tried to hurt it, and he’d given it food. Maybe he’d feed it again. 

For his part, Leonardo’s every sense was focused on that dog. Sight wasn’t much good, and smell wouldn’t help him much in this case. But he listened to the animal’s breathing. Kept a hand on the pulse behind its foreleg, though it clearly made the animal nervous to be touched. And he counted off the time in his head.

Fifteen minutes went by.

The only change the dog had exhibited was that it had eventually calmed down. The food was clean. He clumsily divied it up as evenly as he could. If he was going to use the animal as a lab rat, it was only fair that the canine get half the spoils. The dog seemed to appreciate the gesture. It even went so far as to wag its tail a little near the end of Leo’s hand feeding. 

Plate cleaned, the turtle slept.

Robots came. 

Robots went.

Twice, they tried to take the dog. Leonardo wouldn’t let them. Each time, he could see figures watching from above, and glared at them to get his point across. The dog stayed. End of discussion. He wasn’t letting them take it.

They brought him food once. Leonardo shared it with the dog. Water was a little trickier. They offered it in a plastic cup, one that was far too small to fit the cage of the muzzle in to allow the dog to drink. Leo took a deep breath and put a finger in between the bars. It barely fit. Thank god the bars were only close together up near the nose.

The dog growled a warning.

Praying that he wasn’t about to get his finger torn off, as that would really make it hard to wield his katanas, he pushed it in further. He hooked his finger into the corner of the dog’s cheek and pulled it away from his teeth. A quick shove to tilt the animal’s head back, and he swiftly poured a little water through the bars and into its open mouth. The dog spluttered a little at the surprise drink, but Leo thought most of it went down. He hoped it did anyway. He didn’t really have any better ideas.

He finished off the rest of the water himself.

Leonardo set the cup aside and pulled his knees up to his chest. His stomach gurgled, and he sighed. Given how hungry he was by the time each meal had arrived, Leo was certain they were only feeding him once a day. And only the bare minimum at that. 

Two meals.

Meaning he’d likely been here for two days.

...meaning today was either Christmas eve, or possibly even Christmas day itself. It was impossible to tell time in this dimly lit prison. He was missing the holidays with his family and friends, stuck here in this hell hole. 

A soft whine preceded the press of thin cold bars against his hip.

Leo glanced down in surprise. The dog had wormed its way closer, belly pressed to the ground. It peered up at Leo with dark eyes. Begging attention, but unsure if it was safe to ask more blatantly. 

Leo gave a watery little laugh. 

He might not be home with his family, but at least he wasn’t completely alone. He offered a hand. The dog sniffed at it, as if being polite. Almost shyly, it pushed its nose into Leo’s hand, whining piteously. It was all the encouragement Leo needed. He dug his hand into the warm fur and set about finding the places that made the dog groan when scratched.

The dim lighting made it hard to see, but there were a few things he could make out. The shaggy coat was thick . A pale color, though whether it was a dirty white or a light brown was beyond him. Dark eyes were set in an even darker face. The face was pure black. And it was the only heavy color on the animal, bleeding down into the throat. The tail was a heavy, thick thing. If it’d been clean, it probably would’ve been fluffy. The dog’s whole body was built thick and muscular. It was easily bigger than Tungsten back home, and probably weighed a ton more too.

The dog groaned and leaned into the attention.

Leo laughed and scratched harder behind the big floppy ears. “At least someone is having a good Christmas.” he joked. 

He lavished attention on the dog for what felt like hours. He had nothing better to do, and it warmed his hands. But his thoughts were miles away, hoping his family was having at least a slightly better Christmas than he was.

The lights came on with a loud clang .

Leo rolled out of sleep and into complete alertness in a second. The lights were blinding, and it took several seconds for his eyes to adjust. He almost wished they hadn’t. 

Because the sight wasn’t encouraging. 

There were crowds at the windows again. Even bigger than they’d been that first day. Word must’ve gotten around about the unbeatable turtle freak. They were all pressed up against the glass, and he was pretty sure he could see money exchanging hands. So, it was a gambling thing then. A dog fighting ring. That would explain the horde of raving mad dogs they’d had to throw at him that first day. He wondered what they would be gambling on today.

Will the turtle survive the dogs? 

How long will the dog last against the undefeated turtle? 

A smirk pulled at his lips. Will turtle and dog both survive and form an alliance? 

Yeah, they probably hadn’t seen that one coming.

Speaking of the dog… Leo hurried back to it. As soon as the lights had come on, the dog had pushed itself back against the nearest wall. It’s dirty hackles were raised, and it was growling at everything and nothing. Knowing trouble was coming, but unsure of where. Having Leo close seemed to calm it down a little though.

“Easy.” he soothed. “Save your energy. I’m afraid we’re gonna need it.” 

For several long seconds he debated with himself. Should he take the muzzle off? The dog had tolerated him so far because it couldn’t really do anything else about it. And because he gave it what food and water he could afford. But once the muzzle came off, it could decide that he was still a threat and come after him again. But at the same time, if he left the muzzle on it would be helpless in a fight. He’d essentially be condemning it to death with no chance to save itself.

The sound of one of the doors opening made the decision for him.

Leo hurriedly stripped off the muzzle. Praying he was making the right choice, he turned and threw himself into the middle of the ring to meet the first mad dog they’d sicced on him. It was just as big as his cellmate, but sleek where his was shaggy. 

And shell was it fast !

Leo ducked, barely managing to get under the wild leap. He shoved both hands up against the dog’s chest and belly and catapulted it over his head. It crashed against the wall with a yelp and sank to the floor. Leo took a step forward, only to have another powerful body bulldoze into his side! Teeth scraped across the bridge of his shell, and he brought his elbow down on its head with a loud crack . It dropped bonelessly to the ground. 

It wasn’t his dog.

They were letting in more than one at a time!

His dog had gone after a third dog. It tore into the little pit bull, savage and merciless. Fur flew. Blood spattered the floor. The pit bull shrieked, scrabbling against the concrete. Leo’s shaggy dog didn’t let it get away. It pinned the pit bull down and shook it like a rat until it stopped moving.

One of the other two leapt onto Leo’s shell, and he stopped watching.

The dogs were bigger this time.

Better fed.

Faster.

More vicious.

And Leo couldn’t keep up with them. The room was cold, and it was slowing his reflexes. A shepherd tore into his arm. A sleek black monster ripped into his hip and thigh. A floppy eared dog punched holes in his calf. The world became nothing but a blur of action and bright lights and pain. 

Time was meaningless here.

Finally finally the dogs stopped coming. The bright lights turned off. Wincing with each step, Leo hobbled to the far side of the room. The robots came in. No food or water, just cleanup. 

The catcher bot was back.

Leo gave a sharp whistle. Surprisingly, his dog left off growling at the bots and came right to him. He looped an arm around the shaggy monstrosity and pulled it close. He glared at the bot, daring it to try and take his friend. Whoever was controlling it apparently got the message. After five minutes they gave up and the bot set to work pulling corpses out of the room. 

They didn’t give them food or water.

Leo couldn’t decide if it was punishment or a weakening game.

Either way, the result was the same.

Exhausted, Leo curled up on the cold floor and prayed that he wouldn’t bleed out in his sleep. He was vaguely aware of a fuzzy warmth settling against his shell, but he didn’t have the energy to do much more than lean against it. Darkness took him, and he drifted away.

This Christmas sucked.

The cough rattled out of him.

Leo muffled it in his arm as best he could. It was wet, and deep in his chest. He could hear the rattle with each breath, almost all the time now. But he had to stay quiet. Had to keep pretending he was good. 

Don’t give your opponent an opening. 

Show no weakness.

It was getting harder and harder to stay strong. The cough had set in a day after the second dog fight, and had been getting progressively worse. It had started out as just a little cough. Now it had morphed into chest pains and a fever. He might’ve been glad of the fever, it was nice to feel warm again. But having a fever meant he was sweating. Which in turn meant that the cold room left him chilled and shaking even as he boiled in his shell. 

Leo was sick . 

That was all there was to it. And if he didn’t find a way out of here soon, it just might be the end of him. Because they were almost sure to be planning another dog fight. 

And he already knew he wouldn’t survive it. 

Oh sure, they were ready with their tranq guns to save him if they needed to. But really, what chance did they have? A mad dog could do a lot of damage in a matter of seconds. Leo had seen it first hand. He could just as easily be dead before they even realized there was a problem.

And there definitely was a problem. On top of the fever and feeling like complete and utter garbage, none of Leo’s wounds had been cleaned or tended in any way since the fight. The wounds ached, and they had stiffened, making it hard to walk. His forearm was stiff too. The damage to his hip and thigh had him worried the most. It had already cut down on his mobility, but now it was starting to swell and put off heat. It was becoming infected.

And there wasn’t a blessed thing he could do about it.

The not-human was sick.

The dog pricked its ears as the fast, shallow breathing was interrupted by another wet, rattling cough. The not-human’s whole body jerked with the force of it. He curled back up, sweat covered body shivering. He hadn’t woken up. Not really. He hadn’t been really awake for some time. 

Something was very wrong.

The dog whined anxiously. The not-human needed help, but the dog wasn’t sure what it could do. Another shiver raced through the not-human’s frame. He was so bothered by the cold, even more so since he had gotten sick. 

Maybe that was a way to help.

The dog crawled across the small space between them and curled around the not-human. The shivering eased a little, but didn’t stop. The dog whined and rested it’s head on his shoulder.

On the other side of the room, the door opened.

The dog raised its hackles, a low growl rumbling through the room. The metal animals could not have the not-human. The dog would tear them apart with tooth and claw if they tried. 

The not-human had given food and water. 

The not-human was gentle. 

He was kind.

He was the dog’s to protect. 

The dog would not fail.

Leo woke to warmth.

Not boiled in his shell. Not sweaty sick heat. Just… warm . Warm and comfortable . But, that couldn’t be right… could it? The last thing he remembered was the concrete room. The dog fighting ring. His shaggy fellow prisoner. A part of him could just vaguely recall the dog chasing robots away from him. Gingerly pushing a cup of water his way so he could take his half first. 

Why was he warm?

Where was he now?

And what had happened to his dog?

His body might as well have been weighed down by ten-ton weights for all the movement he could coax from it. He stopped trying to move and focused instead on his senses. The surfaces under his fingers were soft. Everything pressed against his body was soft and warm. His nose could pick up the scent of familiar laundry detergents, weapon oils, and incense. And his ears could pick up on the gurgle of pipes. A radio playing in the distance. The rumble of a passing subway train.

Home.

He was home.

But how?

Brow furrowing, he pried his eyes open. A familiar ceiling met his gaze. A quick sweep of the room just confirmed it. The walls were covered in painstakingly framed sumi-e done by master Splinter and paintings by Michelangelo. He could see where Raphael had helped him mend his dresser, and he could see the alarm clock Donnie had given him last year when his old one had given up the ghost. 

He was home.

Donatello was seated in a folding chair near the foot of his bed. The light from the laptop he was working on lit his face in a pale blue glow. His brows weren’t pinched, and he wasn’t chewing on his lip or the inside of his cheek. But the corners of his eyes were creased, and his mouth pulled tight. Worried then, but not in that ‘I’m running up against odds and time’ sort of way he had when everything was going against them and he was desperate. 

“...Donnie?”

The genius nearly fumbled the computer off his lap. “Leo? Leo! Oh my god, Leo you’re awake!” He dropped the laptop on the foot of the bed and grabbed Leo’s hands. “How are you feeling?”

“Lousy.” Leo admitted. “But… better than I was. What happened? How did you find me? … for that matter, where was I?”

“You’ve been asleep. For far too long. Here, hold on…” Donnie fished his shell cell out of his belt, hit a couple buttons, and put it back. 

“You had a ‘he woke up’ message ready to send?”

“Of course. It pays to be prepared. Saves time.” He grinned. “How long do you think it’ll take them to get up here?”

Leo huffed. “About three minutes, tops. Five if they were in the garage. And you’re changing the subject Donnie. What happened? How did you find me? … and for that matter, how long have I been asleep?” 

“I’m not changing the subject, I’m putting it off till the others get here. Here, do you feel like sitting up? Come on, I’ll help you… here, up you go…”

Leo let him fuss. 

Mikey came careening in three minutes later, just like Leo predicted. The youngest turtle vaulted onto the bed without so much as a by-your-leave and hugged him for all he was worth. Donnie gave an outraged squawk, but Mikey didn’t budge, and neither of his older brothers were really inclined to make him. 

Master Splinter was right behind him at four. Leo would’ve bet anything the delay was due to his difficulties with the shell cells. And Raph came in at five, streaked in grease from where he’d been up in the garage. Leo couldn’t help a flash of smugness. Did he know his family or what? 

Said family who looked far too relieved.

This had been a really close call.

He let his head rest against the headboard. “Hey guys.”

“Hey yerself.” Raph snorted. “What the shell happened fearless?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

That got a sharp look from Donnie. “You don’t remember?”

“Things got a little blurry after I really started getting sick. Mind filling me in?”

Splinter settled himself at the foot of Leo’s bed, Mikey obligingly moving his feet to give their father more room to sit. “Perhaps it would be best my son, if you started at the beginning. Your brothers and I will attempt to fill in the gaps as best we are able.”

“Ok. So, I went for my run. Donnie had given me some new tracers he wanted to test, so I was hiding those as I went. I’d hidden all but one when a water main opened up somewhere. I got washed out into the harbor. And I don’t think it was an accident, the Foot were ready and waiting with boats and nets. One of them knocked me out. When I woke up, I was in a cage inside a big cement room. Octagon shaped, with windows up at ceiling level for spectators.”

“Spectators.” Raph repeated. “The shell were they doing to you?”

Leo grimaced. “Fighting. It was a dog fighting ring. They threw dog after dog at me, all of them half mad with deprivation and trained to kill anything in the ring.” He shuddered at the memory of necks breaking under his hands. “It was them or me. I tried to get it over with quickly as I could. They didn’t deserve to suffer, they didn’t know any better. One of them, I’m not sure how, but one survived. I’d just knocked it out. A big, pale, fluffy thing. They had these robots they’d send in to retrieve dogs. One put a muzzle on it, so I busted the robot and kept the dog. I’d split food and water with it, to make sure they weren’t trying to drug me.”

He ran a hand over the twinging muscles in his leg and pressed on. “I did pretty well that first fight. And the second fight I had a dog of my own. There were a few days in between, and I guess it was enough for us to become friends. If it came at me, so be it. I couldn’t leave the muzzle on, it would’ve been a death sentence. Turns out I didn’t need to worry, ‘the enemy of my enemy’ works for dogs as well as people. But I got torn up that second fight. The cold and damp were already getting to me, slowing me down. Afterwards, when one of the wounds got infected that  was it. I got sick fast, and I don’t have much memory of what happened after.”

Donnie nodded. “Pneumonia is the word you’re looking for. You had it, and it was really bad. You were unconscious for almost a week, and after that you were in and out. This is the first you’ve been awake and lucid. I wasn’t sure how much of your fever was due to the infection and how much was due to the pneumonia. It was pretty touch and go for a few days, and you’ll have to do breathing treatments for a while to clear everything up. But you’re past the worst of it, and I don’t foresee any more complications.”

“Good to know. Thanks Donnie… Now could someone please tell me how I ended up back home ?”

“You didn’t come home.” Raph leaned against the foot board, amber eyes grim. “We followed your route through those tracers you were hiding for Donnie. Took longer than it should’ve to realize the tracer that had gotten swept out to the harbor had been with you, and not just accidentally dropped. By the time we thought to head for the harbor, that tracer had moved and was at Shredders ! And then , when we busted in, it was just a bag fulla Christmas gifts!”

Leo couldn’t contain a chuckle. “Well, at least you got your presents on time.”

“Rather have you than gifts.” Raph growled back. “We were up the creek, an’ no paddle. Kept looking, trying to figure out what they’d done. Eventually spotted Hun convoying out of town, figured it was worth taking a look. Good thing too, he led us right to you. When we found you, you were out cold. There was a dog, a big shaggy monster, in the cell with you. I’m thinkin’ that was the buddy you were talking about. It’d been keeping you warm. It wouldn’t let us close to you. Donnie had to tranq it. We brought you back here, and we’ve been waiting on you to wake up ever since.”

Something in Leo relaxed a little, knowing that the dog lived. 

He hoped they’d left the door open for it, so that it could escape when it woke. Or that they’d taken the unconscious thing and dropped it off with a rescue for fight dogs. Raph said they’d tranqued it after all. They could’ve taken it somewhere.

If they hadn’t… well, maybe he’d take a trip to help out a friend.

Donnie poked at Mikey’s shoulder. “Ok, I think Leo’s gonna drop off again. Get up Mikey, I want to try and get some fluids into him before he dozes off.”

Leo swallowed down everything Donnie handed him, and drifted off to the sound of his family fussing over him.

Raph carefully helped Leo hobble down the stairs.

Behind them, Donnie grumbled and fussed, but made no actual move to stop them. For once, Raph let him fuss. Leo had scared the shells off of all of them. It’d be a while before the worry faded. But in the meantime, the family was going to dote on Leo for as long as he’d let them. Which would be shorter than they’d like, but that was neither here nor there. 

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Raph herded Leo towards the Christmas tree. It was well past Christmas. It was well past New Years for that matter. But still the Christmas tree presided over their living room. Just waiting for the prodigal turtle to come home and celebrate Christmas with the family. 

Mikey bounced around the tree with a tray full of mugs of eggnog. “Merry Christmas dudes!”

Just because he could, and because Mikey knew he didn’t mean it, Raph gave a disparaging snort. “Ain’t Christmas chucklehead.”

Mikey froze in faux shock and horror. “Dude! Who swapped you out for the Grinch? Where’s your Christmas spirit bro?” 

“In last year, where it belongs. I’ll grow a new one next December.” Raph grumbled back. He helped Leo settle on the couch, propping up his injured leg. “You good bro?”

“I’m fine, thanks Raph.”

Mikey turned up his nose. “Fine! No eggnog for Raph then! This family doesn’t tolerate small-hearted Grinches.” He bent down and offered his tray to Leo.

Leo snatched two mugs off the tray before Mikey could stop him and passed one to Raph without spilling a drop. “It’s christmas, everyone gets eggnog. And his heart’s plenty big enough. He’s just a grump.”

“Lies.” Raph teased and buried his nose in his mug. He settled in next to Leo, savoring his brother’s nearness after his long absence and recovery. The longer they’d gone without any sign of Leo, the more likely it’d seemed that Shredder had murdered Leo. Raph had had more than one nightmare about storming Shredder’s home and finding Leo mounted and stuffed. Or something equally horrifying. 

Finding Leo alive in that cement room had been a breath of fresh air. And then he’d gone right back to suffocating when they’d realized just how bad Leo’s condition was. The whole family had been on pins and needles until Leo had woken up, coherent or not. Once he’d woken up actually lucid , the whole family had started to breathe again.

Looking around at the family now, smiling and laughing as they teased each other, he couldn’t deny that it definitely felt like Christmas. The tree was gorgeous, the tinsel glimmering in the gleam of twinkling Christmas lights. The smell of eggnog, the fir tree, and the fresh Christmas cookies cooling in the kitchen gave the lair a festive air that had been sorely lacking on the real Christmas morning. 

Mikey was not so subtly eyeballing the gifts under the tree, and Raph had to work very hard not to snort. 

Yeah, it was definitely Christmas. 

Raph leaned a little closer to Leo and muttered, “You’d think he’d be at least a little bit subtle. I mean, he is a ninja ya know.”

Leo chuckled, sipping at his eggnog. “Wonder how long we could drag it out before he cracked and asked if we could do presents now.”

Across the room, Mikey piped up. “So, can we do presents already?”

Raph stifled his laughter in his mug. “Apparently th’ answer is bout five seconds.”

“Michelangelo.” Splinter scolded mildly. 

“What? I made some awesome stuff this year and I’m excited to see what you guys think of it!” Mikey defended, affronted. 

“I’m pretty sure we’ll love it, just because you made it Mike.” Donnie assured.

“I know, I know! I’m just excited!”

Splinter shook his head, his dark eyes crinkling with amusement. “Very well my son. Distribute the gifts please, then take your seat. We will postpone breakfast until after.”

Mikey whooped and practically dove under the tree. Face alight, he dug out gifts wrapped in newspaper funny pages and started passing them out to the family. “Perfect! The coffee cake’ll be done in about thirty minutes, and then it should probably cool at least a little bit. Scorched mouths on Christmas would be a huge bummer dudes! And no peeking until I’ve got everything sorted!”

His brothers smiled indulgently and waited patiently.

Mikey made quick work of the rest of the gifts. They came in batches, and it was easy to tell which came from who. All of Raphael’s were wrapped in Sunday funnies. Mikey’s were wrapped in the sports pages with big over the top Christmas trees and stars stamped all over them in thin paint. Donatello’s were wrapped up in the classifieds, stamped in purple gears. And Leo’s, a little the worse for wear after their trip through the sewers but still whole, were wrapped in the politics section stamped with big dark blue circles with the kanji for family in the middle. Splinter’s were wrapped in the headlines, stamped in red with the Hamato family crest.

Wrapping their gifts in newspaper had started out as a necessity.

Splinter couldn’t exactly go to the surface and purchase it. But newspapers were always readily available. And if he took the time to locate the Sunday funnies then they would be brightly colored. Then one year, he found a book in the trash on crafting. And one of the crafts they suggested was cutting up potatoes to use as stamps. He didn’t have potatoes, but bits of wood were easy enough to find. 

It had become a tradition, to stamp designs over the newsprint if not using the funnies. And as the turtles had gotten older, they’d taken it as another chance to compete, trying to make more and more intricate designs. As they’d found designs they’d liked, they’d made permanent versions. And they brought them out year after year, either to mix with new designs or to do the whole batch of newsprint alone. Leo was particularly proud of his ‘family’ stamp. But Mikey held the title for most intricate, having won it three Christmases back by painstakingly carving a remarkably accurate portrait of Splinter’s face. 

They’d yet to top it.

And they kind of didn’t want to. What Mikey had created was a work of art. 

Once everything had been sorted and passed out to their respective recipients, Mikey bounced back to his own bean bag chair. “Awesome! Ok, so, how are we doing this this year? Round and round? Or just take turns tearing through our piles?”

Donnie shrugged. “I don’t really mind either way. Whatever you guys want to do.”

Splinter made a staying gesture. “Perhaps, this year we could honor the giver.” He flicked his fingers at the gifts. “Start with those given by Michelangelo, and then proceed in order.”

It was as good a system as any.

As the second youngest, that meant Donnie was first up to open one of Michelangelo’s gifts. Despite egging on by two out of his three brothers to ‘tear into it already Donnie, jeeze’ , he opened it neatly. Raph tore into his negligently, the paper just an obstacle to be overcome. Leo took a moment to admire the paper before he tore it, complimenting his brothers on their various designs or the neatness of their wrapping before opening the gifts. And Mikey, once it was his turn, tore into his with childish enthusiasm. Splinter took his time, and not a one of them dared heckle him. They’d tried it exactly once, and he’d retaliated by going even slower, eyes twinkling with amusement the whole time. Never again.

This year saw several handmade gifts. 

Michelangelo had created paintings for each of them to hang in their rooms. Master Splinter had actually teared up at the portrait Mikey had made of the whole family, the four turtles ranged in a gentle curve with Splinter in the middle. For Leo, a less formal family portrait of the lot of them roughhousing on the couch, watching tv if the lighting was anything to go by. Splinter presided over the melee from his arm chair in amusement. Leo adored it instantly. For Raph and Donnie, he’d painted portraits of Shadow and Tungsten, which were equally well received. 

From Donatello, came useful little techie items. An electric pencil sharpener and a new game controller for Mikey. A screen and computer system to upgrade Raph’s bike to make it compatible with the shell cells and trackers. He’d included a small hands free device to go inside Raph’s helmet too. Leo’s … well, he surprised the rest of the family by gifting Leo with a small mp3 player and a case designed to withstand darn near everything. Music was one of Leo’s secret guilty pleasures, but the beat up CD player tucked up under his bed was almost on its last legs. Leo wasn’t sure how Donnie had found it. But when he powered it up, he was surprised to find that Donnie had already transferred Leo’s CD collection to it.

A lump swelled in his throat. “Thanks Donnie.” 

Donnie shrugged. “Not what I originally intended. But I found your collection and your player when I got under your bed looking for your spare blankets. That’s probably the most beat up thing I’ve ever seen. What on earth did you do to it?”

“Um… I’m gonna plead the fifth on this one.”

Raph snickered. “Yeah, you do that fearless. Least it didn’t bust out in flames like the toaster.”

Ordinarily, Leo would’ve scowled. But… eh, what the heck, he’d almost died a few weeks ago. And it was Christmas besides! Leo very deliberately stuck his tongue out at his brothers and reveled in their startled and delighted laughter. 

“It’s your turn Master Splinter. What did Donnie make you?”

The elderly rat sedately tore off the paper, smiling to find an electric blanket. Donnie’d had to rewire the control, but once he had the blanket was in almost perfect condition. Donnie had been thrilled to find it. Master Splinter took very good care of his, but he’d had it for years, and it was wearing thin. The new one had been quite the lucky find, and it hadn’t needed much work to get the electric bits back in working order.

Raphael’s were next. 

No one ever knew what to expect from their most tetchy brother. Some years he scoured the alleyways and junkyards until he found something , even if it wasn’t much. Other years, he handed them scrawled coupons to be used whenever. Whether it was a ‘Get out a’ trouble without a’ beatin’ card for Mikey, a ‘Wrench monkey without complaining’ card for Donnie, or a “Listen to directions without questioning it” card for Leo, they’d all put them to good use. Splinter had never shared what his said, but he seemed very pleased to get it. 

This year, he’d utilized one of his lesser known skills.

Raphael wasn’t a half bad carver. No one was quite sure where he’d picked it up. But now and again, they’d catch him with a small blade and a piece of scrap wood. Patiently shaving off little bits and pieces to make something beautiful. He thought he was subtle, but Leo knew for a fact that the little wooden animals often found their way into the hands of various disadvantaged children throughout the city. 

“You uh, ya don’t have to take turns. Ya all got the same thing…” Raph offered awkwardly.

Shrugging, they each tore into their gifts. Wooden contraptions, each about the size of a fist or bigger, fell into their waiting hands. Mikey’s was a handle, a baseball bat-like shape above. But the center was hollow, two balls moving freely in the center. To Donnie went one with a square, hollow base, scroll work rising above it to cage a loose ball in the center. For Splinter, an ornate base with hollow scroll work rising up to form an empty oblong cage. And for Leo, a three foot long wooden chain with a hook on either end.

Raph ducked his head. 

“They um… They’re called ‘whimsies’. They don’t, uh, they don’t really have a function. ‘T’s kinda in the name. The point is that they’re all made out of one piece of wood. Made Donnie’s out of a thick table leg. Master Splinter’s was a piece of a telephone pole or somethin’. Mikey’s was a broken baseball bat. And Leo’s was a pine two-by-four.”

Leo ran the smooth wooden links through his hands, marveling at the amount of time and effort that had to’ve gone into making such a long length of chain out of something so rough as a pine two-by-four. The others were equally lovely. Each had been smoothed and polished to perfection. But not stained. He’d left the wood plain so as to showcase the beauty of the grain of the wood. 

Raphael had really outdone himself. 

“Dude, this is totally awesome!” Mikey declared, holding his over his head like a trophy. The wooden balls inside clicked with each shift of his weight.

“They are beautiful displays of your skill, my son. They will improve the beauty of our home, and bring joy to our hearts each time we see them. For those reasons, they do serve a practical purpose. We will cherish your gifts.”

“They’re beautiful Raph.” Donnie agreed.

Leo carefully coiled his back into the remains of the paper. “I might need your help hanging it, I’m not one hundred percent yet. But it’s beautiful and I know exactly where I want to put it. You did good Raph.”

The hothead’s cheeked darkened, and he ducked his head as he mumbled out a ‘you’re welcome’.

Then it was Leo’s turn.

Mikey tore into his, and squealed with delight. Leo bit back a grin into something smaller. He hated dumpster diving. Hated it. He’d do it, and he’d never complain because it was necessary. But moments like this? Seeing their excited faces made all the nasty slime, horrible smells, and all the sharp objects absolutely worth it. 

Mikey was already rifling through the deep box of slightly worn comic books, gushing over the various heroes. If some of them were repeats of ones he already had, he didn’t mention it. Then he found the second part of the gift, tucked down one side of the box between the comics and the sidewall. 

“And you even remembered Klunk! Klunkers! Come here Klunk, Uncle Leo got you some jingly balls!” He skeeted one across the floor, and his cat took off after it, skittering away into the kitchen. They could hear the ball bouncing off of chair legs and cupboards. 

Mikey set the box aside and launched himself across the coffee table to tackle his older brother in a hug. “Thank you! I don’t know how or where you got all of those, but thank you!”

Leo squeezed him tight. “Merry Christmas Mikey.”

Once Mikey had gone back to his seat, it was Donnie’s turn. The genius opened his own heavy box with care, jaw dropping as he got a look at the contents. The box had been filled to the brim with computer parts. 

Now, Leo would be the first to admit that he knew absolutely nothing but the basics when it came to technology. He would also be the first to admit that technology in general and kitchen appliances in particular hated him. Still, it didn’t take a genius to note what parts Donnie was most excited to find when they were out scavenging. And if Leo had been tucking some of them away from each scavenging trip for the past three months… well, that was no one’s business but his own. Leo didn’t know what most of those pieces were, and he’d pulled a couple of them from broken computers with a little alien head on them rather than the usual logos he was familiar with. He hoped those would be ok. But even if they were off-brand, he knew Donnie would be happy to have them, and do amazing things with them besides. 

And tucked into the box with the parts was a cow shin with a big purple bow on it.

“Leo…”

Leo shrugged. “There’s a shop over on Raisin street. Really wasteful, if their dumpster’s any indication. Remind me to show you.”

“Thanks.” Donnie fished out the bone and stripped the bow off before giving it to Tungsten. 

All eyes looked expectantly to Raph.

Leo chewed at the corner of his lip as he watched Raph unwrap his. His irritable brother was always the hardest to find a gift for, if for no other reason than he played his interests close to the vest. Leo wasn’t really sure of this gift. But he’d committed, and there was no going back now. 

Raphael’s gift was smaller than Mikey and Donnie’s. Pulling off the last of the paper, Raph’s eyebrows shot clear to the top of his forehead as three secondhand books and another cow shin tumbled into his hand. Leo was well aware that the other two turtles were shooting him baffled looks, but he kept his eyes trained on Raph.

Raphael slowly turned the hardcovers over in his hands. ‘Jurassic World’ and ‘Pirate Latitudes’ by Michael Crichton, and ‘The Bourne Trilogy’ by Robert Ludlum. He held the third one up. “I haven’t read this one. Seen the movies, never knew it was a book series.” He shuffled the other two to hold up ‘Jurassic World’. “Part of ‘Jurassic Park’?”

“The first book, and the sequel.” Leo confirmed. “Your old paperback was all but falling apart last I saw it. I thought you might appreciate a new copy.”

“It’s more duct tape than paper at this point.” Raph agreed, amused. He stripped the plastic wrap Leo had used to protect the books off of the bone Leo had enclosed and tossed it to Shadow, curled up against Tungsten. “Thanks bro. Lookin’ forward to readin’ these.”

Leo relaxed, now that he knew Raph liked them. “Merry Christmas Raph.”

“Mmmm.” Raph grunted, already reading the synopsis on ‘Pirate Latitudes’.

From Splinter, each turtle received a fresh bundle of incense sticks for meditation in their favorite scent. After passing them out, Splinter held up a hand. “Leonardo. Please remain seated. Your brothers and I have one last gift for you. Raphael, if you please? Michelangelo, Donatello, please take the dogs from the room.”

Confused, Leo watched Raphael disappear to the laundry room while Donnie and Mikey shepherded Shadow and Tungsten upstairs to the bedrooms. Klunk scooted over into Splinter’s lap, with a smug air. They got back quicker than Raph did, and had only just retaken their seats when the door to the laundry room opened again. 

Leo’s heart skipped a beat.

Slinking out of the laundry room was his cellmate. The dog shot many a wary backwards glance at Raph over its shoulder. But it was equally wary of the new space, eyes darting around as it tried to take in everything at once.

“Oh…” Leo breathed, tears welling in his eyes.

The soft sound was more than enough to draw the dog’s attention. Dark eyes pinned him in place. Floppy ears pricked up, and the tail untucked to give the smallest, slowest wag he’d ever seen. 

Leo couldn’t help but choke on a laugh. “Well? Come on then.” He held his hands out to it. The dog didn’t need any more encouragement. The tail came up to curl over the rump, and it shot forward with a deep throated woof. It’d crossed the main room in seconds and collided heavily with Leo, knocking him back on the couch. He laughed, burying his fingers in the thick coat.

The dog looked a lot better than when he’d seen it last. Which made sense. He’d been unconscious that first week, and the second had been spent almost exclusively in bed. Two weeks was plenty of time to get them both on the road to recovery. The thick shaggy coat no longer hung lank and stringy. It had had a bath, and now the dog’s pale tannish-gray fur stood up fluffy and full. Dull eyes had a new shine to them. And unless Leonardo was mistaken, it very well might’ve put on some weight. The thick fluffy tail wagged so hard they worried it might fly clean off!

The dog pressed in close, piteous whines escaping as it nuzzled and licked anxiously at his face and throat. 

“Shh…” Leo soothed. “Shh. I’m ok. I’m ok. You did so good, keeping me alive until my family could find us. Good boy.”

Donnie cleared his throat. “It’s um, it’s a girl actually.”

“Oh?” Leo took a second to let that settle in, then went right back to petting her and telling her what a good dog she’d been. The massive animal climbed right up on the couch and shoved as much of her body into his lap as she could manage, still whining and crying, tail going a mile a minute. “Shh. It’s ok sweetheart. We’re alright.” Leo hugged her close, stunned. “Not that I’m not ecstatic , because I am , but why did you bring her back with you?”

Raph shrugged. “She was bound and determined to protect you at all costs. That kind a loyalty… That deserves to be rewarded. An’ she didn’t deserve to be left with those assholes. We couldn’t leave her behind. Glad to see we made the right choice.”

“Thank you.” Leo sniffled, wiping at wet eyes. 

“She’s underweight.” Donnie put in. “And she’s got issues we’ll have to work through. Lucky for us, I don’t think Hun had her for too long, not given the state of some of the other dogs I saw there.”

“And we made sure someone got called to come and get the other dogs.” Mikey added.

“Right. Anyway, like I was saying, I don’t think Hun had her for too long. So she’s got issues, but it’s not as bad as it might’ve been. She doesn’t do well with other dogs, but she’s weirdly ok with Klunk for some reason? I don’t know, but we can work on it. And we should probably introduce her to Casey and April one at a time. She’s probably not going to have a good association with humans right now. April should probably be first, Casey’s big and loud and that’s going to go over like a lead balloon… It’s a lot of work Leo. What do you think? I mean, you do so much for this family, she’s going to take up whatever spare time you had left. I don’t want you to feel obligated. I’ve already found a rescue that specializes in rehabilitating bait and fighting dogs…”

“The choice is yours my son. If you so choose, you will not be alone going forward with her, but it is to you that she will look most for comfort and guidance.” Splinter put in.

It wasn’t much of a choice, given that he’d already made it.

She’d fought with him, kept him warm, been willing to die for him… There really was only one choice he could make. He hugged her close and rested his cheek on top of her fluffy head. “She’s worth the effort, trust me.”

Raph smiled, leaning on the back of Splinter’s chair. “She’s gonna need a name.” 

“Oh! Oh! It should be a Christmas themed name! You know, since he found her at Christmas time! Like: Noel, or Kringle. Maybe Bell! Angel! Carol! Oh! Maybe Holly or Merry…!” Mikey was almost bouncing as he spouted ideas.

Raph swatted Mikey playfully. “Better pick somethin’ quick, or doofus over here’ll pick one for ya.”

“Hmm…” Leo carded his fingers through his dog’s thick fur, staring down into bright, trusting eyes. Some of the names Mikey had put out had some potential. But they weren’t quite right . Not for her. His eyes drifted to the Christmas tree, and his lips quirked up in a grin. 

“I like the idea of a Christmas name… What about ‘Hope’? People always say this is the ‘season of perpetual hope’...”

Donnie smiled. “I like it. It suits her.”

“Good choice dude!” Mikey concurred.

Leo looked down at his dog. “What do you think? Hope sound good to you?”

The dog just shoved her head into his chest again, tail wagging.

Raph chuckled. “Think she likes it.”

“It’s settled then.” Leo nuzzled into her fur. “Welcome to the family Hope. I think you’re going to like it here.”

“Of course she will.” All eyes went to Splinter, and the elderly rat smiled. “She is safe here, and will be well loved. That is all any of us could ever ask for.”

(Inspiration for Hope)

In case y'all were wondering what the 'whimsies' looked like. Hope my descriptions weren't too confusing!

Donnie                                      Splinter                          Leo                                                  Mikey