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Chapter Text

Leonardo stares in horror as pieces of Michelangelo chip away into golden, glittering dust. I asked him to do this, he thinks uselessly, I asked him to–

“Help him, Sensei! I’ve got this!”

Leonardo’s head whips towards Casey just as the boy slices through two Krang hounds as effortlessly as if they were mere air. The resolute glint in those dark eyes makes something in Leonardo’s gut settle and he turns back towards his brother. His little brother, who’s straining and fading and no, he won’t let him die, not now, not ever, and he dashes to his side. 

He flounders just for a second; what can he even do – but then he feels the pull of his brother's ninpo, the sun-like warmth of his soul, and he’s drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Without thinking, he clasps his left hand onto Michelangelo’s shoulder and the immediate surge of energy makes him grunt and involuntarily clench his jaw. Still, he holds on, sharing the pain and the power, and despite the overwhelming force of it all, he manages to catch Michelangelo’s gaze turning on him. 

Big eyes full of surprise, then love, then steely determination. Michelangelo looks back to the growing light and screams louder and the air around them crackles like lightning and– and there it is, the time gateway, shining and pulsing and searingly brilliant. Leonardo is still holding onto his brother’s shoulder, eyes wide, not quite believing the sight in front of him. 

“We need to move, man!” Michelangelo yells at him but Leonardo can’t quite comprehend the words. Michelangelo did it, he made the portal, and he’s still here.  

The younger turtle stares at him, then huffs fondly, and stretches an arm behind his back. Glowing chains spring forth, wrapping snugly around Casey’s torso, and before Leonardo can snap out of it he’s being pushed into the portal, his brother and his apprentice both right behind him. 

–

“Well, this is unusual,” says a distantly familiar voice somewhere above him, and Leonardo forces his eyes open. He’s lying on his plastron on the ground and judging by the limbs he can see from the corner of his eye, squished by… Michelangelo? And Casey? His head is spinning far too fast for comfort. 

“Heeeeey April,” his brother pipes up, and Leonardo shoots up into a kneel faster than the two others piled on top of him – they yelp as they thud to the ground – and his injury would like. The pain is easy to ignore as he’s looking straight into the face of the one and only April O’Neil. Decades younger, but so decidedly her, and Leonardo bursts into tears. 

–

It doesn’t take much for April to believe them. She cries with them, texts her brothers, and cries some more. No one has the heart to pry Michelangelo off of her when he latches on and doesn’t let go, not even when a shimmering blue portal appears before them. 

–

The atmosphere in the lair is definitely odd. Casey seems to be the most put-together out of everyone, only looking a little bewildered, and Leonardo is inexorably proud. Michelangelo has finally stopped sniffling and instead of clutching April like a lifeline, he’s perched on top of Leonardo’s shell, looking at the younger counterparts of their family. His eyes are misty and the slider wouldn’t fault him if he started to cry again. He’s very nearly doing it himself. 

They don’t have time for that whirlpool of violently swirling emotions yet, though. The key has already been stolen, mostly thanks to a certain someone – yet Leonardo doesn’t have it in himself to blame the smaller slider like he’s blamed himself for all these years. Looking at him, fourteen years old and so, so tiny, the only thing Leonardo feels in his aching heart is conviction. 

They can still fix that mistake and ensure that this world will never have to fall.

Chapter Text

The key is safe. It’s safe, the Krang still sealed away, the Foot Clan scattered, and this world… this world won’t ever have to feel the weight of a war that would end everything. There’s still the matter of ensuring that the key won’t be found ever again, but for now, they can finally rest.  

Only Leonardo doesn’t know how to do that. 

Casey had conked out as soon as he sat onto one of the plush bean bags in the TV room and Leonardo had to remove his armour plate and boots, covering him with a warm blanket after. The slider is grateful for it, even if a bit jealous. It feels like there’s an electric current running under his skin, leaving him unable to sit still even for a moment, his body still expecting to spring into action at a moment’s notice. The wound in his side is freshly re-bandaged and the pain has faded into a dull throb, so that won’t offer any distractions either. At the moment he’s fiddling with the wiring of his prosthetic arm, desperate to give his body even a little bit of rest. 

Granted, Michelangelo isn’t doing that much better either, but he’s resolved his problem by attaching himself to either Raph, Donnie or Splinter, whoever is the closest at any given time. There hasn’t been a lack of tears from any of them (excluding Donnie, whom Leonardo has been afraid to look in the eye lest he breaks down completely) and even the Mikey of this timeline seems to be drawn to the natural gravitational pull of his older self. Leonardo just knows that given enough time, those two will get up to plenty of mischief. He can’t wait. 

Leo, however… he’s kept his distance, no doubt slightly weirded out by an older-little brother who’s definitely still his brother, alright. It didn’t help that Casey slipped up and called him Sensei more than once, either. The look on his student’s face was worth seeing, though, as it immediately scrunched up in guilt each time. 

And, well, if he’s just slightly weirded out by a boy and another brother from the future, he must be a lot more so by the sudden existence of another him. Another him who’s decades older, rougher, wrinklier and so, so tired. All those jokes about getting a Raph-chasm must seem too real all of a sudden and Leonardo can imagine the war waging inside of his younger self’s head every time he looks at him. It’s funny, and Leonardo chuckles out loud. 

That draws the attention of Donnie who’s been reclining on another bean bag on the other side of the room, lazily scrolling through his phone. 

“So, ‘Nardo,” he drawls, and Leonardo’s shoulders tense at the nickname he hasn’t heard in… in too long. He doesn’t turn to look at the softshell in fear of falling apart and he forces himself to take a deep breath. 

“Yeah?” he asks gruffly, hoping that the grit in his voice is enough to conceal at least some of the emotions threatening to engulf him. Hearing his twin’s voice after so long, not to mention being in the same room with him for the first time in years without a world-ending threat looming above them, is doing things to his heart that he’s afraid will send him into cardiac arrest. He doesn’t know if it would be a blessing or a punishment. 

“I would very much like to take a look at that arm tomorrow. Is it removable?” a short moment of silence, and he continues, “Oh, of course it is. I made it, didn’t I?” 

Leonardo is indescribably glad for Donnie’s tendency to ignore feelings whenever he wants to because there’s no way his brother isn’t aware of his emotional fragility at the moment and he chances a look at the other. He feels tears in his eyes as soon as his gaze lands on the purple-clad turtle but he can’t make himself look away. 

“You did.”

–

“Is it too optimistic to ask you not to take it apart?” 

“Oh, I most certainly will be taking it apart but do not worry, my brethren, for I’m amazing at–”

“Don’t say fixing things, bro,” Leo barks from behind his ridiculously high stack of syrup-covered pancakes. Leonardo thinks it’s impressive how fast he managed to gulp down a mouthful of food just to be able to annoy his brother. 

“–fixing things, bro!” Donnie claps back at him without turning around, instead cradling Leonardo’s prosthetic arm closer to his chest. 

“Aww don’t worry, you guys,” Michelangelo coos and throws his arm over Leonardo’s shoulder, “it’s Donnie we're talking about! He’ll treat it with the utmost respect and you’ll get it back as good as new!” 

“Thank you kindly, Michelangelo. Now if you don’t mind,” the softshell lowers his voice into a purr, “I have work to do.” He swiftly turns on his heel and makes a beeline for his lab, undoubtedly anxious to get his hands on tech his most brilliant future self had created. 

Leonardo stares dejectedly after him and then deflates, turning his attention to his half-eaten breakfast. His stomach churns uncomfortably and he feels off balance, even sitting down. He honestly doesn’t remember the last time he had removed the arm to sleep, much less for maintenance – most work that needed to be done on it could be performed on the fly, but he does feel a pang of regret for not taking better care of it. It’s one of the only things he has left of his twin. 

“Aw man, he didn’t even finish his boring no-jam-no-ice cream-no-nothing waffles!” comes a cry from his right, successfully distracting him from that line of thinking. Mikey is looking at the unfinished plate Donnie left behind with such pronounced sadness in his eyes that Leonardo almost laughs. Oh, how he’s glad these kids don’t have much to worry about. 

“I CALL DIBS!” Michelangelo yells and reaches over Leonardo’s lap to snatch the plate before anyone else gets a chance. The older box turtle doesn’t waste time piling on every condiment he can reach and digging in with enthusiasm, having already finished his own share of pancakes. Leonardo stares – he’s been doing that a lot, things are tough for him ok, don’t call him out on it – and wonders how his little brother has been able to return to that carefree demeanour so effortlessly. 

“I knew I could count on you, Big Mike!” Mikey grins, the near-tears expression replaced by utter, pure joy. 

“Big Mike??” Leo blurts out, starts laughing, then breathes wrong and starts coughing, and Leonardo is already almost out of his seat but Splinter is faster and thwaps his son on the back with his tail, hard, efficiently resolving the situation. Leonardo sits back down, earning a fond glance from both Mikeys. 

“Thanks, dad,” Leo wheezes and the rat only sighs, pouring himself another cup of tea. 

“Haven’t I taught you any manners? Would have served you right to choke, perhaps you’d have learned something.” 

Leo grumbles unintelligibly as a reply and goes back to his breakfast, his amused shock over Mikey’s nickname for his older self forgotten… but not for long. Leonardo might be world-weary and depressed, but when presented with a chance like this, he’s not one to pass it by. 

“‘Big Mike’, huh?” Leonardo leans towards Michelangelo, grinning lazily, cheek pressed against his left palm. “Small Mike, more like. Maybe you should drink more milk.” 

Michelangelo gasps, offended, and points his fork at him. 

“How dare you! I’m plenty tall, I’ve earned that title!” 

“Still shorter than me.” 

“Don’t you talk about him like that!” Mikey rebukes, matching Michelangelo’s offended tone and circling the table to drape himself over the older turtle’s shell, arms coming up over his chest protectively. They glare at Leonardo with all their might and this time he can’t stop himself from laughing. Oh, God, those expressions are identical.  

“Stop laughing!” Michelangelo huffs but Leonardo can see the delighted glint in his eyes. That only makes him laugh harder and he’s expecting Splinter to chastise him as well, but all he gets from their father is an exasperated sigh. Something big swells in his chest and his laughter tapers off, leaving such lightness in its wake that Leonardo thinks he might just float away. 

He then catches his younger self staring, a forkful of pancake frozen halfway to his mouth, and winks at him. 

–

“Raph doesn’t think you should be trainin’.” 

Leonardo tilts his head to the side to regard the snapping turtle who had almost managed to sneak up on him. He realises he had gotten too deep in thought, staring at the punching bag, so he isn’t too alarmed about it. 

“I wasn’t going to, don’t worry,” he smiles softly, heart twinging at the apparent concern the younger version of his eldest brother exudes. Just like his Raphael did. 

“Can’t really do much with this,” he waves his remaining arm that’s been bandaged from bicep down all the way to his fingertips, thanks to the stunt he pulled with Michelangelo and his gateway, “and your genius of a little brother is holding my other arm hostage.” 

That earns him a low chuckle from Raph and the snapper steps properly into the dojo. 

“So you’re what, daydreamin’ about punching things?” 

“Might be.” 

Raph grins and sits down on the tatami, patting the space in front of him. “How ‘bout some meditating with me instead?” 

Leonardo’s face goes slack. It takes everything in him to not burst into tears the same way he did with April the previous day but even as his chin wobbles, he nods and sits down, facing Raph. The snapper’s grin is gone and he’s frowning, clearly debating something inside his head. 

“How you keepin’ up?” he then asks, sincere and open-hearted, and as much as Leonardo would like to wave his concern away and tell him he’s fine, he can’t.  

“I miss you,” Leonardo confesses, voice thick with emotion and just like that he’s back on the brink of tears. His vision is already hazy and Raph is just a blur of red and green sitting in front of him and it’s Raph, but it’s not his Raphael, and Leonardo finally succumbs to the breakdown he’s been holding off since the previous night. The tears on his cheeks feel so hot they almost burn but he doesn’t have the energy to wipe them away. 

Raph, oh bless him, Raph doesn’t leave him alone with it. He hears the larger turtle (at fifteen, still larger than him, even if Leonardo almost beats him in height now) get up on his knees and then he’s engulfed between two large arms, pressed close to a wide, familiar plastron, and Leonardo wails. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s let himself grieve this openly – probably just after, after Donnie… went… and it feels good, but it also hurts and his chest feels both tight and empty at the same time. He finally manages to gather enough strength to return the hug as best as he can with one, shaking arm. He holds onto Raph as if his life depends on it – it very nearly feels like it does – and cries his heart out. 

Raph holds him firm and steady, not budging, unyielding, like the shield he’s always been for his family. Leonardo is over twenty years older but Raph’s hugs have always felt the same. The slider feels his love, even though he’s not this Raph’s little brother, and he cries for that empty spot in his heart. Anatawa hitorijanai, the Hamato clan’s motto rings in his head, and he hopes his brothers are still there somewhere, even now that he’s been displaced from his own timeline. 

Leonardo doesn’t know how long they’ve been sitting there, just holding each other in the middle of the dojo but finally, his tears run dry and he can breathe. He listens to Raph’s steady breathing – he’s sure the snapper is doing it deliberately – and matches it until he’s sure that he won’t pass out. 

“Sorry,” he croaks, and his younger-older brother chuckles wetly. He's always been a sympathetic crier, and Leonardo appreciates that about him beyond measure. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry about, lil bro,” Raph replies with such warmth that Leonardo immediately hates the thought of eventually letting go of him. He does utter a laugh at the words, though. 

“Not that little anymore,” he mutters, and Raph laughs again, but this time the sound comes deep from his chest. The dearly missed, calming rumble of it almost makes Leonardo cry again but he’s distracted as the snapper pulls away to pat his head with one big hand. 

“Hey, you’re Leo, and Leo’s always a middle child. You just gotta deal with it, like, forever.” 

Raph’s grin is wide and toothy and the tear stains on his mask and cheeks don’t take away from the teasing glint in his eyes. Leonardo laughs, properly this time, and he punches Raph on the arm. Softly, of course, so not to aggravate his injuries, but strong enough to be felt by their behemoth of a brother. Raph raises a brow, amused. 

“Fine, I can deal with that,” Leonardo complies, “but that also means I get to invoke little brother rights whenever it pleases me.” 

“Ha! We’ll see how well that turns out for ya,” Raph smirks, and Leonardo smiles so wide his cheeks start hurting. 

–

Leonardo sighs. He stayed at the dojo after Raph left, wanting a moment for himself, but now he isn’t so sure if it was a good idea. He has moved to sit next to the wall to let his thoughts wander but those thoughts haven’t been very kind, and he’s considering getting up and leaving when he’s interrupted by a voice at the door. 

Leonardo watches as his younger self comes in and promptly eases himself against the same wall he's leaning on, mirroring his cross-legged pose on the tatami. A thoughtful air surrounds the smaller slider and despite the ache in his chest, Leonardo finds himself growing curious. Leo’s been friendly enough with him, but this is the first time he has initiated actual closeness. 

Leo doesn't talk, though. Just sits there, close enough to bump shoulders with if he wanted to. Leonardo shifts his gaze back to his lap and releases the breath he was holding in anticipation. He doesn't feel like talking and somehow, his smaller counterpart seems to have realised that. Leonardo can't help but feel fond. He might act like an airhead when it suits him, but Leo isn't stupid. They are– were the same person. He should know. 

“They’re there, you know,” Leo finally says.

They must’ve been sitting there for the better part of an hour and the older slider definitely applauds the younger one’s patience, even though he’s still not sure if he’s up for a talk. The companionable silence has managed to calm him down some, so he can at least try to listen. 

Leo looks up at him but when all Leonardo does is look right back, he shrugs and pulls his legs against his chest, leaning his chin on his knees. It’s a defensive position and Leonardo feels distant alarm bells go off in the back of his head. 

“Your Raph and your Donnie. And your pops. I know you’re worried about reaching them now that you’re here.” 

Leonardo flinches as soon as he hears his brothers’ names. Those alarm bells weren’t wrong. However, he can’t help but be quietly impressed at the insight of his younger self – credit where credit is due – but he doesn't know if he should feel comforted or offended. Leo is so young, too young. He has too much to learn. How can he say that with such certainty? 

Still, those words made the tiny sliver of hope left in his heart raise its head and Leonardo thinks himself a fool if he ignored it. So, he'll bite. 

"How would you know?" 

"'Cause I can feel them." 

Leonardo's jaw drops. No way this kid is being serious. 

"You're pulling my leg," he scoffs and turns his head away from the smaller slider. 

"No, he's right, big bro," comes a cheerful voice from the doorway. Michelangelo waltzes in, bundled up in one of Mikey's bigger orange hoodies, unburdened and light and looking younger than he has in years. Leonardo's breath hitches. 

"You've just been too scared to reach for them, baby!" the mystic warrior sing-songs and plops onto the floor next to him, then promptly lets himself fall on Leonardo's lap. He looks up at him with a wide grin and a playful sparkle in his eyes that Leonardo realises has been missing from his little brother's gaze for too long, and the slider doesn't know what to feel. He has to try a few times before he gets his voice to work. 

"Wh… why haven't you told me?" 

"You didn't ask." 

Michelangelo's grin morphs into a devilish one as Leonardo only stares. Oh, this little piece of–

"Yeah, that's some littlest brother bullshit for you," Leo snorts beside him and both of the older turtles snap to look at him. 

"Language!" they scold him at the same time, and Leo's eyes widen before he bursts into laughter.

Chapter Text

“Mikey, we don’t have time–”  

“Noooo, I don’t wanna,” the mystic warrior whines and squeezes Leonardo tighter. 

“We just got here and I get that you gotta go and that I’m in no condition to fight but I’ll be so lonely!” 

“Oh! Oh oh oh!!” Michelangelo’s younger self exclaims then, and the older turtles turn their heads to look at him. 

“I’ll text Draxum! He can come and keep you company!” 

Michelangelo’s eyes widen and his hold on Leonardo loosens enough for the slider to escape his embrace and slink off to join the rest of their anxiously waiting family. The fate of their world hangs in the balance but sure, what's a few more minutes when the clock is already ticking in reverse? 

“Really?” the older box turtle’s voice is small and he might be shedding tears again but who cares, Draxum is here and he’s alive and–

“Of course! I’m already textin’ him!” the younger Mikey bounces over to his future self and grabs him by the elbow, pulling him towards his room, blabbering excitedly at the same time as his thumb flies over the keyboard of his phone. 

“You guys can chill here if you want, there’s my comics, my Gameboy, oh and he probably should take a look at your hands, they look nasty– no offense, and…” 

- 

Baron Draxum hadn't been sure what he should expect upon arriving at the lair when he had received the multitude of text messages from the youngest of his creations. Mystic time travel is a feat he doesn't personally have experience with, his interests lying in more practical uses of the power, but he cannot deny being intrigued. 

He hadn't been sure, and yet, it still takes him off guard to see an aged-up version of Michelangelo, pacing in the atrium, a flowy cape billowing behind him and… is that hair? Draxum instantly jots it down into memory – what an interesting side effect of using human DNA on reptiles. This will require some further studies. But, back to the matter at hand. 

He clears his throat to announce his arrival and the turtle stops in his tracks, turns to look at him and the Baron barely has a chance to take a breath to utter a greeting before he's being squeezed in a four-limbed hug, the turtle having barreled into him with the kind of blinding speed the yokai has yet to see from his, uh, the younger Michelangelo. 

"You're aliiiveeee! And you look just the saaa-aaameeee!" Michelangelo bawls into his tunic and Draxum hasn't the faintest what to do. The reaction to latch onto him like a koala and the extreme emotional response confirm that indeed, this turtle is Michelangelo, but while that energy matches him to a tee, Draxum still doesn't know him.  

"Uh. There, there?" he offers, awkwardly patting the crying mutant on his back. 

"Oh, oh no," Michelangelo sniffles and eases himself off of him, "I forgot how stiff you used to be. Heh. Sorry." 

Draxum frowns. This is quite the deviation personality-wise and the scientist deems it a product of the apocalyptic world the turtle used to live in, but it still doesn't suit him. As much as it embarrasses him to admit, he's grown fond of the unapologetic way the orange turtle teen wears his heart on his sleeve, unafraid to show his affection. 

"Do not worry about it," he sighs and takes a better look at the box turtle. The difference between the complexion of the two Michelangelos is startling. This one looks withered in a way Draxum never intended his creations to experience, not even with age. There must be another reason for it. His gaze moves down to Michelangelo's arms and, yep, there's his answer. He quickly moves to grab the turtle's hands and turns them palms up, staring at the numerous cracks marring the green skin. Most of them have faded to lighter-coloured scars but some are still clearly visible and to his horror, fresh. 

"Why have you been using your mystic power like this?" he demands, perhaps louder than he intends, but the turtle doesn't flinch away from him. 

"We got no choice, man," Michelangelo replies, eyes still shining from emotion. "You warned me so many times. But I'm not sorry." Michelangelo takes a deep breath and smiles. It's wobbly and fragile and the yokai hates it. He never wants to see an expression like that on Michelangelo's face. "I still have Leo." 

Draxum is shocked into silence. Whatever the brothers went through in the future that will hopefully never come to pass now (Draxum does feel slightly salty that his help hadn't been wanted on their world-saving mission tonight) has taken an immeasurable toll on his youngest. It had surprised him to eventually realise how tight-knit this family is and he's yet again reminded of the bonds they share. Shared, in this case – since there are just two left, he supposes. There is a twisted kind of pride in that his future self was survived by two of his youngest. 

"I understand," he mutters, "it doesn't exactly surprise me that you would go against my guidance when it comes to your family."

Michelangelo's smile turns warmer and a lone tear rolls down his cheek. Draxum feels a painful pressure in his chest, like a blunt-edged blade being pushed through his ribcage, and this is where he learns that his heart is still capable of breaking. 

"Come," he says and tries to keep his voice level. "We need to treat those wounds, and you ought to be happy to know that some of the damage you've done to your body could very well still be reversible. I do not have my lab with its full resources at my disposal but I've got the knowledge along with plenty of materials stashed away." 

The box turtle stares at him and doesn't move until his eyes spark in a very familiar way and he squeals.  

"You serious? Can you do something about these wrinkles," Michelangelo rubs his hands down his face, "I haaaate looking older than my big bro and not mostly because I have to witness him biting his tongue every time he almost makes a quip about it but God that's so painful and I hate it."  

Draxum raises a brow and he actually chuckles. War scars people, but not enough to fundamentally change them, and the warring warrior scientist is unsurprised by the notion. 

"I do not know yet. Potions, lotions, poultices and therapy, even of the mystic kind, aren't actually magic and cannot cure the impossible. The Hamato clan's mystic powers are strongly tied to the love you share with each other and there's no shortage of that here, no matter how much you have exhausted the reserves your body is capable of handling, so I am optimistic." 

Michelangelo positively beams at him, tears quickly drying and leaving only tracks behind, and Draxum finds himself not minding this unprecedented situation at all. His family is already big, bigger than he ever thought possible, so what are two more turtles to it?

Chapter Text

"Hey!"

Draxum feels a chill run down his spine and as he turns around, he almost drops his teacup. 

"That's the guy who threw me off a roof!"

A taller, wider, most definitely stronger and clearly furious Hamato Leonardo is stomping towards him, eyes narrowed, one finger pointed at him. The yokai scientist is horrified to realise that his fight or flight response has jammed and he's stuck where he's standing, in the middle of the kitchen, forced to await the doom approaching him. 

He just had to pick today to visit. It would have been better to let the dust settle – his youngest (he now has two, even though the other one is decades older and isn’t that a brain-breaking thought) could have just visited him instead – and he also did already know that the red-eared slider isn't one to let go of grudges. While hearing the occasional jab from the younger version has almost become routine for the alchemist, this situation cannot even compare. It is so much worse. 

He watches, helplessly, as Raphael and the younger Michelangelo attempt to stop the steadily approaching blue turtle but to no avail, and he resigns himself to his fate. All he can do is stand straight, chin up, gaze unwavering. If this is how he goes, he'll go with dignity.

Except the killing blow never comes and instead, he's enveloped in a lung-crushing hug – which is impressive, considering the older slider only has one arm – and all the air in him escapes with a sad little whine. So much for his dignity, then. 

"I'm so glad to see you," Leonardo mumbles into the crook of his neck and Draxum doesn't know how to be. Sure, he's relieved to not have been pummeled into the ground in front of his whole family, but this kind of affection from Leonardo of all turtles is unprecedented and quite frankly, mind-boggling. 

He cranes his neck to look over Leonardo’s shoulder to see the shell-shocked faces of everyone else. He’s drawn to one of them especially; the younger Leo. He looks like someone just slapped him, slapped his brothers and then slapped him again for good measure and Draxum would find a smug kind of joy in such a sight if he wasn’t so baffled himself. Older Michelangelo and the human boy are the only ones who have stopped staring and that figures – they actually know what kind of relationship Leonardo had with future Draxum. They're snickering between each other, apparently finding the "prank" hilarious. 

“Are we all seeing this?” Donatello asks incredulously, painted-on eyebrows almost reaching the top of his head. 

“For sure we are! Ohmigosh, Leo, you love our other dad! I knew it!!” Mikey squeals and bounces on his blue brother who has still not recovered from the initial shock. 

Draxum clears his throat but when that does nothing to make the turtle move, he lifts his hand and much like on his first meeting with future Michelangelo the other day, pats him on the back. 

“Yes, uh, pardon me but I am not that partial to embraces,” Draxum says but before he can try to wiggle out of it, Michelangelo is by his side, grinning at him as if he couldn’t be happier.  

“Not yet, you ain’t,” the older box turtle sing-songs before getting in on the hug, squeezing both his brother and the alchemist tightly. 

Draxum hears a snort from his left and a glance downwards shows him Lou who’s leaning on the fridge door, an insufferable grin plastered on his face. 

"Glad to have you as a part of the family," he chortles and Draxum narrows his eyes. 

"Rat," he hisses, "get your sons off of me." 

"Oh, I don't think I am in the position to tell them what to do anymore. They are adults." Lou's grin widens. 

"And they are your sons, too." 

–

They had talked about it after the meeting, just the two of them. One last try, one last attack on the Krang with the full force of the resistance – if it works, they've practically won, but if not, and if there's nothing to salvage, Michelangelo will make a time gateway for Casey. 

Mikey himself had been the one to suggest it. Mikey himself had also been the one to admit to Leonardo, once they were alone, that it would most likely kill him. 

Leonardo sits on a bench near the blast doors leading out of the base, Michelangelo stuck to his side, fast asleep. 

Leonardo can't stop looking at his brother. His baby brother. His strong, brave, determined, brilliant, funny, optimistic and joyous little brother. He deserves the world, and Leonardo will regret forever not being able to give it to Michelangelo. 

Tomorrow could be the last time he ever sees him. Tomorrow could very well be the last time he sees anything. Leonardo holds his brother closer and squeezes him a bit tighter, so, so carefully. He fights back tears even though he already knows it's a losing battle and tries to memorise Mikey's every single feature, every marking and wrinkle and spot of discolouration, burn them into his memory the way he never got to do for Raph and Donnie. 

Michelangelo shifts under his arm and Leonardo is thrust back into the present. 

He's in the lair. Their new lair, an abandoned subway station which they moved into after the old one got destroyed by the Shredder. He's sitting on a couch, in a lame set of worn-out college hoodie and trousers, and Michelangelo is absent-mindedly making himself more comfortable against him while he scrolls through his new phone. 

Content, happy. Safe. The Krang never escaped the prison dimension here. Leonardo feels like he's going to faint and he opens his mouth to say something but his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth and when– when did breathing get so hard? 

"Leo?" comes a concerned query from his little brother, and Leonardo can't really feel the wetness on his face but he knows he's crying and he can't really breathe and–

"Hush bro, it's okay, breathe with me, yeah? In, hold, out." 

And Leonardo does. He knows what to do here, to listen and match the pattern, and Michelangelo is holding his face and telling him with his touch that he's not alone, he's here, here's safe, and finally, Leonardo can feel his body again. He sobs and pulls Michelangelo into his lap, careful not to crush him, and he sobs harder when arms circle around his neck, holding him as tight as he's holding his little brother. 

No questions are asked, not out loud – they don't need to. 

"Casey saved your life," Leonardo chokes out when he has calmed down enough to talk but he's still pressing his face into Michelangelo's shoulder, not looking up. He senses his brother's confusion and keeps talking. 

"I would've just stood there. Let you do your thing because that's what you said you'd have to do. But Casey, he… he yelled at me to go to you and suddenly I couldn't handle what was about to happen and, and…" he hiccups and tries to look for the words, "Casey saved your life," he ends up weakly repeating. 

"Oh," comes the choked-up reply, "I should thank him. I'm really happy to be here." 

Leonardo can feel his smile against the side of his face, and some of that panicked tension leaves his body. Michelangelo pulls away and dries his eyes with the back of his sleeve. 

"You've raised a good kid, Papa Leo," he smiles, and Leonardo's already muddled thoughts grind to a halt. Michelangelo laughs at his stricken expression and uses his sleeves to dry Leonardo's face in turn. 

"Let's go find him and tell him how proud he makes us! Both of us. I couldn't have asked for a better nephew." 

Michelangelo's smile is wide and bright and Leonardo realises that he's alright with this. He never intended to be a parent to the boy but that seems to have happened anyway, and thanks to that, he still has his little brother. The first lesson Splinter ever taught him and his siblings was the importance of family, and for him to have done so with Casey… The corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles and pulls Michelangelo into another hug, gentle and soft unlike the one before, and he's readily hugged back.

"Yeah, querido hermano," he murmurs. "Let's do that." 

–

Leonardo wakes up, feeling disoriented and smothered in a way he doesn't remember experiencing in ages. Why is it so hot, anyway? He grumbles and attempts to tug his blanket off of him but his arm won't move. It's stuck under something and Leonardo is forced to open his eyes. 

The sight that greets him in the dim illumination of his night light almost makes him choke up. Michelangelo and Casey both are wrapped around him, the latter snuggled up to his chest, effectively pinning his left arm against his side, which explains him not being able to move it. They've brought their own blankets and pillows and Leonardo briefly wonders how on Earth did he manage to sleep in the first place with all that extra warmth. 

His brother and his son both look so peaceful and unburdened, sleeping deeply, breathing softly, that Leonardo can't quite believe that this is real and not some far-away fever dream. A quick glance to his right shows him his sword leaning against the wall, red and purple masks wrapped around the hilt, and that's enough proof to tell him that it's all real. 

He then hears voices outside. He recognises all of them. Sleepy good mornings are exchanged between brothers, the clatter of pots and pans reveals that the younger Mikey has started preparing breakfast, then there's the familiar sound of a squabble between twins that's quickly broken apart by a low growl and a hissed warning from their brother in red, and Leonardo's heart feels so full. 

He looks at the ceiling, rapidly blinking to get rid of the tears forming in his eyes. This is what they saved. His original family might be reduced to just him and these two, but for this to be the reality for them, now? Leonardo thinks it just might've been all worth it. 

A warm presence makes itself known on the edge of his mind and he closes his eyes. He reaches for that familiar love, for those distinctly brown, green, red and purple strings woven so tightly together, feels them reach back, and he smiles. 

Chapter Text

Leonardo rubs the back of his neck. He doesn't know how to do this, or if he even can. Casey looks nervous but excited and the slider wants to be excited with him – wants to, but can't. All he feels is anxiety.

"Just... be careful, alright?" he puts his hand on the boy's shoulder, squeezing gently. It does nothing to reassure him.

"We'll be fiiine, big guy," April smiles at him. "I know it takes time to get used to this version of New York, but you just gotta trust the process."

Casey looks up at him, fond but worried, and Leonardo feels so inadequate so fast. Casey shouldn't be worried about him, he should only worry about... what itinerary to take with April, which stores to check out first, where to have lunch. Not about his sensei slash father figure who doesn't know how to live in a peaceful world anymore.

"I know, I know," he sighs and offers a smile to the teens. It isn't as strained as he feared. He can do this.

"Don't be out too late, yeah? I'll miss you," he pulls Casey into a quick one-armed hug and ruffles his hair, thinking that he knows the kind of response it'll evoke.

"Gah! Yeah, yeah, I'll miss you too, dad," Casey laughs and pushes at him to get away, running to his backpack to check that he's got everything he needs. It doesn't register before Leonardo sees April staring, a weird look on her face. Weird, but happy. Wait, did Casey really call him–

"Splints actually has a grandson," April whispers in awe and her face breaks out into a wide grin. Leonardo can only stare, his emotions doing weird things to his insides. It's one thing to privately acknowledge to your sibling and yourself that you’ve accidentally become a parent, but to hear the kid actually call you their father – the slider almost feels like crying.

April seems to catch that, as attentive as always, and she steps closer to gently punch him on the arm.

"Hey, good for you," she smiles, all genuine love and affection, "I know my Leo wouldn't admit to any serious parental urges in a thousand years, so," her smile turns mischievous, "I think Splints' got a new fave Blue now."

That brings Leonardo back from his stupor and he shakes his head, chuckling. April never disappoints.

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"Don't believe me? Just go to him and tell him you've got a son. We'll see which of us was right," she cackles. "Anyway, me and Junior will be goin' now. Try not to worry too much and wear a hole in any of the carpets while we're gone, yeah?"

"I'll try my best to wear a hole in all of them," he grins and earns a huff and another soft punch on the arm, and just like that April's back on Casey's side, linking their arms together and pulling him towards the stairs leading topside.

"Bye, Casey!" Leonardo yells after them and the boy turns his head, grinning.

"Bye! I'll get you and Master Michelangelo souvenirs!"

"Make sure mine's cooler!"

Casey laughs, gives him a thumbs up, and then the two disappear around the corner.

Leonardo's smile disappears with them.

–

"What's got you so down in the dumps?"

Leonardo glances up from where he's sprawled on the sofa and is surprised to see Donnie leaning casually against the backrest. He's gotten more used to the presence of a younger version of his twin but his heart still twinges at the sight of him.

"Don't get me wrong– as you know, I'm not a feelings kinda guy, but brooding isn't a good look on my brother and it certainly doesn't suit you either."

Leonardo huffs a laugh.

"Let me guess, it makes my Raph-chasm worse."

"Bingo. Now, I'm not here for mere pleasantries. I am pleased to announce that I'm finished with your arm. You can have it back."

Leonardo gets up so fast he makes himself lightheaded. He staggers backwards and a metal claw springs forth from Donnie's battle shell, grabbing the hood of his sweatshirt so he doesn't fall right back down onto the furniture.

"Whoa Bronco, it's not going anywhere. I knew you were attached, but wow."

"Can you really blame me?" Leonardo grunts, rubbing his neck where the collar of his hoodie had dug in with the force of the yank. The claw withdraws.

Donnie only shrugs and gestures with his arm for him to follow his lead to the lab. Leonardo can't help feeling a little like a dog, meekly falling into step with his, hm. With his little brother? With just Donnie? He knows he needs to start differentiating between his own and the younger versions of his brothers, otherwise his heart might never settle. Despite everything, it still feels right to call Donnie his twin but Leonardo knows that his Donatello would be jealous, even if he could never get him to admit it. So, a little brother it is, and the slider silently vows to make himself learn it.

As they get closer to the lab, Leonardo's step falters. Suddenly the thought of getting the arm back isn't as appealing as before and he feels a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. It almost feels like dread and Leonardo doesn't know why. He swallows, hard, and follows Donnie inside.

“So, I didn't make many changes because, as expected, the work of my adult self is pristine, but I did clean it quite a bit and adjusted the joints. I have to say, it is absolutely genius how the arm was clearly meant for an automaton, not for a person to use as a prosthetic, and the adjustments to make it work with an embedded socket – my God, the workmanship! Dreamy sigh.”

Leonardo stops in his tracks.

“You knew it wasn't made for me?”

“Well, duh,” Donnie scoffs and circles around a worktable, letting the arm into Leonardo's view. It looks just the same but a whole lot cleaner. The knot in his stomach grows and he has to force himself to walk closer. Where is this feeling coming from? Were these few days without it enough to make him despise it? How even could he despise something that kept him alive all those years and so intricately ties his two late brothers to him? Leonardo feels terrible.

“It hasn't been made to your specifications – the weight and size gave it away at the first glance – and some of the original wiring is still present. Don't worry, I left everything as it was. I did not want to compromise the arm's functions in any way.”

When the slider stays silent, not staring at the arm but through it with an unreadable expression on his face, Donnie raises a brow and tilts his head to the side.

“So, would you like to put it on? I will help.”

Leonardo finds that his mouth won't work. A whole stormcloud of emotions is gathering in his chest and he doesn't know what to do with it – his stomach churns, and that gradually growing knot is now huge and tight, and he realises that he is very close to having a panic attack right here, right now. Donnie starts to look concerned at his prolonged silence and Leonardo bites his tongue to get himself back to the moment. He tastes blood and it makes him grimace but at least it helps him keep himself grounded.

“I–“ he starts, swallows, and tries again, “I think I need a moment,” and he turns on his heel, almost running out of the lab. He feels absolutely gutted to leave Donnie hanging like that but he'll apologise later. Mikey. Where's Michelangelo? The last he saw him he was with the younger Mikey in the kitchen, but that was hours ago. Mikey's room? As good a guess as any.

This new lair is much bigger than the first one and it takes agonisingly long for him to reach the train car with its door and walls covered in colourful, mostly orange graffiti. He can hear laughter inside and the surging waves of panic in his chest subside enough so that when he bursts in, he doesn't completely implode on the two brothers.

“Leo?!” comes a surprised yelp from both of the orange-clad turtles, and he stands there, trying to speak. He can't get a word out and it takes exactly two seconds for Michelangelo to get up from the floor and reach up to twine his arms around his neck, enveloping him in a tight hug. Leonardo's arm comes up to wrap around his shell and he sinks to his knees as he buries his face into the crook of Michelangelo's neck.

Mikey stares, surrounded by a collection of sketches and crayons scattered on the floor, understandably confused. Concerned as well, of course, and he gets up.

“You guys okay?” he asks softly, wringing his hands in front of him. Michelangelo smiles and turns his head as much as he's able to look at the younger turtle.

“C'mon, let's hug the sad out of this poor man,” he prompts and Mikey doesn't have to be told twice. He grins and pushes off the top of Michelangelo's shell with his hand as he somersaults over the two older turtles and immediately reaches over Leonardo's back to latch onto his neck. Leonardo sees none of it, but the airflow following the turtle's stunt tells him enough and he's smiling before he knows it. Always one for dramatics, his little brother.

They settle into their little group hug and Leonardo feels soothed with every breath he draws, the tension in his frame melting bit by bit. The warmth and love around him almost make him tear up but he manages to keep from crying, even if just barely. He's probably on the verge of dehydration anyway with how much he's been bawling his eyes out lately.

“I wasn't gonna ask what happened, but what happened?” Michelangelo then breaks the silence and Leonardo sighs.

“Donnie is done with the arm,” he says quietly, and Mikey gasps against his ear. It tickles.

“I can't help but notice you ain't wearing it,” his brother continues conversationally and Leonardo's hold on him tightens.

“Yeah, I... I don't know how I feel about it.” He stops and huffs. “No, I do know. It makes me feel bad and that in turn makes me feel even worse.”

Michelangelo hums thoughtfully and nuzzles the side of his head. It's comforting and Leonardo lets out a long breath.

“You don't have to wear it if you don't wanna,” the box turtle then says, so matter of factly that Leonardo's eyes snap open to look at his brother and he jostles Mikey, who merely adjusts his grip on him and stays where he is.

The slider is silent for a moment and when he speaks, his voice is fragile. Both Mikeys hold him closer and despite the crushing feeling of guilt in his chest, he feels it fill with warmth.

“It feels like a betrayal.”

Michelangelo snorts. “That makes no sense. It's your arm, you can do whatever you want with it.”

“But D-Donnie and Raph–”

“Wouldn't care. Sheesh. It's not like we have to fight for our lives anymore, ya know? We're allowed to relax and just be. If you feel like having that arm on isn't doin' you any favours, then that's that. Leave it. Move on. You're not obligated to use something just because your brother made it.”

Leonardo hates it when Michelangelo makes sense. Hates it, and at the same time is immensely thankful.

“God, why do you have to be so smart?”

Michelangelo chuckles. “Just call me Mikey.”

That startles a laugh out of Leonardo and the rest of that anxious cloud evaporates, leaving him a little lightheaded. He's glad he's being held by two of his brothers, otherwise he isn't sure if he could stay upright.

The relief is short-lived when he remembers leaving Donnie in the lab without a good explanation.

“Oh, shit,” he mutters and he can practically hear the glee in Mikey's grin against the side of his head.

“Mikey.”

“What? I heard nothin'.” the youngest feigns and Michelangelo, the traitor, snickers. Unfortunately, Leonardo doesn't have the energy to deal with the aftermath of his slip right now.

“I kinda bailed out on Donnie. I need to apologise.” Leonardo grits his teeth. He remembers how Donatello used to be about validation from parental-aged adults and for him to barely spare a glance at the work he had done on his arm and practically running away from him must have not left him in any sort of good spirits. Shit.

“Ya need us to come with?” Mikey asks and Leonardo shakes his head. He is grateful, however, and surrenders his hold on Michelangelo to reach up and softly squeeze Mikey's arm.

“Thanks, but I should do it by myself. I suspect he isn't very happy with me and you don't need to bear witness to my fate.”

Mikey laughs and slides off of him after giving him one last squeeze.

“Sure thing, boss man! We were in the middle of an important conversation d'artiste, anyway. But don't let Donnie kick your butt too badly, the medbay sucks.”

Michelangelo laughs and agrees, squeezing Leonardo exactly the same way Mikey had done – their hugs are identical, even though Michelangelo still has to be careful with his arms – before letting go, and Leonardo stands up. He takes a deep breath and smiles.

“Wish me luck.”

– 

Leonardo finds Donnie where he left him. He’s sitting at the worktable, leaning onto his elbows and staring at the prosthetic. The slider rubs a hand across his face and tries to get himself together. He steps into the lab. 

"So, how would you rate your disappointment? Very disappointed, very very disappointed, ver-" 

"Stop," Leonardo says, "Donnie, no. I'm not disappointed," and he feels like a horrible, horrible person. Donnie's voice was level and his face would otherwise betray nothing but Leonardo knows his brother, knows those subtle lines of tension around his mouth and eyes and he's painfully aware that he's the one who put them there. The softshell scoffs and leans away from the table, crossing his arms over his chest. Leonardo is determined to put an end to this misunderstanding and he walks to him. 

"The arm is perfect," he sighs and tries to look Donnie in the eye but he avoids his gaze. Fair enough. 

"I just…" he doesn't know how to continue and turns to look at the arm, feeling a lump in his throat at the sight of it, and reaches his hand to wrap his fingers around the thumb. His own hand is so small, compared, and he realises that the reason why that is is at least a part of his apprehension towards the prosthetic. His eyes are stinging. 

"It reminds me of the people I've lost." 

That makes Donnie perk up and he no longer looks like he wants to punch something. Leonardo is relieved, but he feels like he needs to explain himself further. If he can get his mouth to cooperate. 

"Donatello made this for a mech," he starts and has to clear his throat from the thickness before he can continue, "a mech bearing the resemblance of Raphael." 

Donnie's eyes widen and Leonardo knows he doesn't need to elaborate. The implication is clear and Donnie is a genius – the slider is grateful for it as he's not sure if he can go on explaining. His fingers squeeze the metal digit he’s still holding onto, not unlike a child squeezing an older sibling’s, and his breath hitches. 

Next to him, Donnie sighs. 

“I’m sorry for your loss. And I’m sorry for assuming your hasty retreat had anything to do with me or my work.” 

Leonardo finds himself surprised by the apology. It’s very unlike the Donnie he knows– knew. Either it has to do with their considerable age difference or this timeline differs from his own in more ways than one and he isn’t sure which way to lean. Nonetheless, he’s grateful, and he manages a smile. 

“Thank you, Donnie. I’m sorry as well. I shouldn’t have left you like that and believe me, I feel terrible for not being able to appreciate the work you’ve done as well as I should. The arm looks as good as new and I’m sure the movement is even better than before, but I don’t think I can wear it anymore.” 

Donnie seems to contemplate his words for a moment and then he shrugs, a grin spreading onto his face. It takes Leonardo off guard. 

“That’s fine,” the softshell says and produces a remote from one of the compartments in his battle shell. He pushes a button and a wide screen lowers down from the ceiling, powering on. 

“I made blueprints from the prosthetic, just the basic functions and structure – the chassis is so not your style, anyway – so if you’d like, and allowed me to study that artificial socket of yours, I can build you a brand new one.” 

Leonardo is speechless. He stares at the screen, the intricate details of the prosthetic’s inner structure on full display, complete with a cutaway diagram and a sketch of a finished arm. The lines are rough and a little messy but the new chassis looks sleek and strong and it’s adorned with three yellow stripes. There are notes scribbled next to it and he attempts to read them but his vision is blurring and he blinks away the tears, shifting his gaze to look at Donnie. As expected, he looks vaguely uncomfortable with his display of emotion and the slider chuckles. 

“Donnie. This looks amazing. I’d love that.” 

It’s a rare thing to see such a light ignite behind the purple-clad turtle’s eyes and Leonardo smiles a watery but wide smile. Donnie is practically vibrating in his seat and he jumps up, doing a fist pump. 

“Yesss! It’s going to be great, mayhaps even my best work yet. There is no limit to my genius, after all!” 

Leonardo watches him celebrate and feels his chest fill with warmth. Donatello had lost his playful passion for his tech somewhere along the way during the apocalypse, basically being the sole provider of life-saving inventions and machines for the resistance, and Leonardo realises how dearly he had missed seeing him so excited to build something new. Donnie is so much more than the tech he makes but in the end, the two are inseparable, and Leonardo is tearing up again, although he doesn’t know if he had even stopped crying after seeing the blueprints Donnie made. 

The younger turtle does one more victorious flap of his hands, then spreads his fingers on his chest and half-bows toward Leonardo with a flourish. 

“Thank you for choosing Genius Built™ Apparel, you won’t be disappointed!”

Leonardo resists the urge to wrap him in a crushing hug and he grins, nodding his thanks in lieu of speaking. 

He could never be disappointed with Donnie’s work, not even if he wanted to be.

Chapter Text

"Which hand?" 

"What?" 

"Which hand! Pick a hand!" 

Leonardo cocks a brow ridge at the smaller slider who's leaning towards him with a gleeful grin, both hands behind his shell. 

"Is it gonna be a booby trap if I choose wrong?" he asks, flattening himself against the bean bag to lean as far away from Leo as possible. He knows that face like the back of his hand, and it never bodes anything good. He knows, because he’s worn that exact same expression more times than he can count. 

"Nope," Leo says, popping the p. "Come on, choose!" 

Leonardo sighs. He's pretty sure this isn't going to end up well for him but for some reason, he just can't say no. That's the dad in you talkin', he hears his Mind Raph helpfully supply, and it almost makes him smile. It's been a long time since the guy's made an appearance. 

"Fine. The right one." 

Leo's grin widens into a Cheshire-cat-like smirk. Leonardo braces himself. 

"I knew you'd pick that one! Congrats on the win, hermano!" the teenager exclaims and pulls out a… gift bag. Huh. It's a big one so it could fit a variety of things in it, including a booby trap, but Leonardo is curious now. He carefully takes the bag but before he can get a better look at it, he's distracted by Leo brandishing an identical bag in his left hand. 

"What are you planning?" Leonardo frowns and Leo honest to God giggles.  

"Just open it! Ugh, I hope I don't turn out as cynical as you when I grow up, that's so not cool." 

The older slider sighs again and peers into the bag warily, squinting. He's prepared to have something explode in his face any second but he gets it all the way open and nothing happens. The thing inside looks like just some unassuming light blue fabric. He's not letting his guard down yet but he puts the bag down at his feet and reaches in with his hand. The fabric is soft and fuzzy and he pulls it out. There's a lot of it, although that's not surprising, considering the size of the bag. 

He freezes. 

Big, soft googly eyes are staring back at him, with a pink horn and a rainbow-coloured strip of fur in the middle, making up the hood of a… onesie. 

Leonardo's throat closes and with his eyes wide, he lifts his head to look at Leo whose bag is now on the floor and its contents triumphantly held in his hands. The garment is identical to Leonardo’s, although much smaller. 

"Matching unicorn onesies, babyyy!" the smaller slider whoops and twirls on his toes, pressing the fabric against his chest. 

"Oh, it's softer than I ever imagined," he coos and rubs his cheek against it. "So worth owing Donnie for this. God, I'm in love already." He then glances down at his older counterpart and is thrown off by the sight in front of him. 

Silent tears are streaming down Leonardo's cheeks while he clutches the onesie in his hand - but he's also smiling.  

"H-hey, buddy, you okay?" Leo stutters, not really knowing what to do. Leonardo blinks and his teary gaze falls on Leo, who flinches. 

"I love it," Leonardo breathes out. "You have no idea what this means to me." 

"Uhh, I think I do, what with that," and he gestures to Leonardo's face, "whole situation. Yeesh, for a second there I thought I'd done something wrong." 

Leonardo chuckles thickly and wipes away some of the tears with the back of his hand. 

"Nah, kid. This is amazing. I wanna wear it like, yesterday." 

Leo's grin is back and he preens himself on the praise. Nailed it. Donnie isn't the only one in this family craving validation from adults and while it's a little weird and maybe even egotistical that it's his future self giving it, Leo isn't going to let that ruin this feeling. 

"Thank you, Leo," the older slider says quietly and the smaller turtle falters at the sincere tone.

"No problem," he squeaks, his face getting warm because of the embarrassing crack in his voice and suddenly he can't handle being in the same room with Leonardo anymore. He turns towards the stairs. 

"Aaanyways, I'm gonna go put this on and when I get back, you better be wearing it too! We'll show the unbelievers how sick these onesies are!" 

Leonardo watches him trot up the stairs and when he's gone, he turns his attention back to the gift in his lap. He sniffles for one last time and then leans his head back against the bean bag and closes his eyes, a shit-eating grin replacing his earlier soft smile. 

"Take that, you two. Rat-flu season: 0, Leon: 1." 

–

– 

"So. "Commander O'Neil", huh?"

Casey's face flushes crimson.

"I said it again, didn't I."

"Yep. It's alright, though. Glad to know I didn't change that much in the future, it’s pretty cool to be regarded so highly!" April grins and plops down onto the bean bag next to Casey. The boy is holding a rectangular cardboard box in his hands, looking unsure. 

"So, whatchu got there?" 

Casey smiles sheepishly. 

"You know that quirky little store we browsed for a bit? I got something for sensei and Master Michelangelo from there but now I'm… Oh, man, these are stupid. What was I thinking?" he groans and puts his head in his hands, dropping the box into his lap. It clinks. 

"Aww Case, I'm sure they're not! Let me see?" April asks with all smiles and leans against his shoulder. Casey chuckles and hands her the box. 

"If you laugh, I'm throwing them away." 

April gasps in mock offense and presses her free hand against her chest. 

"I would never," she vows, and Casey laughs again. 

"Go on, then. Just know that I'll be trusting your judgement here." 

April grins and opens the box. Inside there are two primarily white coffee mugs, cushioned in old newspaper. So far so good! April lifts one of them out and has to suppress a gasp – she only promised not to laugh but she’s not taking any chances with this. The likeness of none other than Jupiter Jim is staring her in the face, winking, printed on the side of the mug. She turns it in her hands and on the other side are the words "#1 Captain". She quickly digs up the other mug and lo and behold, it's got Red Fox printed on it, along with the text "#1 Second In Command". These mugs must've been a part of the failed rebranding that took place after movie 44 was almost scrapped, which probably makes them actual rarities. Good thing the shop owner didn't know that, otherwise there's no way that Casey could've afforded them. 

She's almost speechless. Almost, which is still quite a lot of words for April O'Neil. 

"Casey. Why in the world would you think these are stupid? Those two LOVE Jupiter Jim, they'll go nuts over these! What the heck!" She puts the mugs away to safety and wrangles the surprised teen into a headlock, giving him a noogie. 

"Seriously, Casey Jones Junior! Give yourself more credit!" 

Casey laughs and tries to wriggle out of her hold, with little success. He gives up and opts to go boneless on top of April, which makes her laugh and push him off of her own volition. Leonardo might be the actual strategic genius but Casey has learned from the best, after all. 

"In my defense, I've never bought anyone gifts before! I got nervous," he explains as he settles back into his spot on the bean bag. That makes April's smile waver but she's quick to shake it off. She should've realised that there must not have been many chances for leisurely shopping in the apocalypse. 

"Excuse accepted," she smiles and nudges him with her elbow. "So, you ready to give these to the boys? Can I come with?" 

Casey grins and nudges her back. 

"I'd appreciate that." 

–

Chapter Text

“Now, hold still.” 

Leonardo takes a deep breath and does as instructed. Donnie moves quickly and efficiently, scanning the right side of his shoulder area with a handheld device. Leonardo thinks he remembers that one – Donatello had gone through multiple versions of it, each better than the last. They’d been lucky a beta version already existed before the invasion began, it had made medical work in the field so much easier. 

“Okay, you can breathe now. Please don’t make yourself faint on me.” 

Leonardo lets out the air and breathes in deeply before grinning at the smaller turtle. 

“I can hold my breath much longer than that.” 

“Noted. I wasn’t certain, you’re so old now.” 

Leonardo laughs. He relishes the way Donnie is comfortable enough with him to show him his snark. They are brothers, but the softshell is the only one who’s kept Leonardo and Michelangelo firmly separate from his teenage siblings. Leonardo appreciates it more than he can put into words. It must be confusing enough to suddenly get three new family members but to have two of them be your actual siblings, the same two who already exist here, from the future – it’s not an easy thing to wrap your mind around and the less the younger turtles mull it over, the better. 

Maybe they ought to be thankful that the decades spent fighting an alien race have changed Leonardo and Michelangelo enough to not be actually identical to their younger versions. 

Donnie swipes his fingers across the screen of his bracer and sends the scanned data to the main computer. The large flat monitor flashes awake and Leonardo stares as the results of the scan are displayed on the screen. He finds it slightly disturbing how far into his body the artificial socket goes – he would’ve liked it better to not go through the surgery and have the prosthetic attached some other way, but both he and Donatello came to the conclusion that an embedded base offered superior stability compared to everything else. He couldn’t risk dislodging the arm during battle and the fact that he didn’t even have a stump left didn’t leave many viable options for attachment, anyway. 

“Fascinating,” Donnie murmurs and pulls up a close-up of the socket, tapping away on the keyboard, “this is incredible. I really am a genius.” 

Leonardo watches him fondly, reaching for his hoodie. According to Donnie, it could take him some time to get familiar with the technology required to make sure the new arm works seamlessly with the socket but Leonardo doesn’t mind. It’s certainly been a learning curve to get used to having only one arm but for some reason it makes the slider feel relaxed. Maybe it’s selfish of him, maybe it’s not, but he likes the ease of not being battle-ready. 

“Afore you leave,” Donnie’s voice cuts through his thoughts and Leonardo looks up. Donnie is looking at him over his shoulder with a furrowed brow, a sharp edge to his gaze that almost makes it feel like a glare. Leonardo doesn't like how uneasy it makes him. 

“There’s something I have to ask. I know you would probably rather not talk about it but it has been driving me up the walls,” the softshell huffs, turning away from his computer to face Leonardo. He folds his arms across his chest and suddenly Leonardo thinks he knows what this is about. 

“How did future me die?” 

Leonardo’s stomach drops. There it is. His mouth goes dry and he swallows clumsily. He really had hoped he wouldn't have to have this conversation, but… it would be good to get it out of the way. He knows Donnie isn’t going to let it go even if he was graceful enough to let him leave now and the slider is pretty sure his mental capacity of handling it won’t get any better the longer he waits. 

Donnie is many, many things and stubborn is one of them. It’s a quality shared between all of the brothers but the twins are the epitome of it. 

“You’re not going to like it,” Leonardo murmurs, clenching his fist around the garment in his hand. Donnie tilts his head to the side, looking at him as if he’s stupid. Maybe he is. 

“I do think it is quite healthy to not like the thought of dying,” Donnie replies. His voice is gentle, surprising Leonardo with how it contrasts the sharp furrow of his brow, and the slider sighs. It’s unfair – yet not unexpected – how easily he yields. 

“It was a successful mission at first but then something went wrong. A whole building collapsed on us,” Leonardo says quietly. 

“We got separated from the rest of the group. I was mostly unscathed but D–” he almost chokes on the name, “–Donatello wasn’t. There was nothing I could do.” 

Leonardo isn’t looking Donnie in the eye anymore, instead having fixed his gaze on the other’s shoulder. As soft as he is towards his brothers, it doesn’t make the weight on his tongue any lighter. 

Donnie is silent, waiting for him to continue but when he keeps his mouth shut in a tight line, the teenage genius lets his posture slump. 

“So, crushed under a pile of decaying concrete? Disappointing. I would've hoped to at least go in a blaze of glory.” 

Leonardo’s eyes snap to his. It’s like a cord was cut somewhere inside him, letting the full weight of the memory come crashing down on his heart. Disappointed. Blaze of glory.  

– 

"You're… awfully quiet," Donatello wheezes and swipes his finger across the projected screen on his arm. He looks at the readings and Leonardo sees him go a shade paler. 

"Oh," he says, and coughs, and blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. Leonardo feels frozen. This isn't happening. Everything was going so well. They got the intel, they were almost out of the building, they– 

A sob forces its way out of Leo's mouth and he drags himself all the way to his prone brother. Donatello looks up at him, brows furrowed in the slowly dawning realisation that he might not make it out of here. He sighs and grabs a hold of Leonardo's wrist. 

"Well," he mutters, "that's it, then. Time to go say hi to the fam." 

Leonardo looks at him in shock. "Don't–don't say that! We can still get you out of here, we can–" he chokes on his words and desperately looks all over the space, searching for a way to get the concrete off his brother. He lifts his prosthetic arm in order to punch the slab to see if it’ll move but Donatello stops him. 

"No! This space is not structurally sound, you might bring the building down further. I'm not, hnh, dragging you down with me," Donatello says through gritted teeth and squeezes Leonardo's wrist before letting go. He seems to be getting more coherent so at least he’s not going into shock yet. It’s not a huge comfort, but Leonardo will take it. 

"The others will probably get Draxum ‘n dig you out. Be patient." 

"Dig us out! Why are you like this?" Leonardo laments, moving to lean over the softshell, reaching down to feel the pulse in Donatello's neck. It’s fast. Leonardo moves his hand away, clenching it into a fist to stop it from shaking. 

"Because, my dear brother, I have the data. My legs are pretty much crushed and there's a major spine injury, as– as well as internal bleeding. Sigh. I wanted to go in a blaze of glory, not smothered under rock and concrete. My disappointment knows no bounds." He coughs again and Leonardo unfurls his fingers to wipe off the blood from his cheek. Donatello doesn't even flinch away from the touch.

"This little shelter we have found ourselves in probably also has a limited supply of air, so we should talk as little as possible. So," he smiles, and Leonardo's heart shatters, "SHELLDON will walk you through everything once you log into the system and initiate protocol "In Case Of DD". The admin password to everything is–" 

"Bootyyyshaker9000?" Leonardo sniffles, trying to offer a smile of his own. The muscles in his cheeks spasm and he doesn’t know if he succeeds. Donatello chuckles. 

"No. It's "I love my family". All in uppercase and underscores between words."

– 

A sob wrenches out of Leonardo's mouth and he hides his face in his hand, curling into himself on the stool. He hasn’t thought about the night he lost Donatello in so long, pushing it down, down, deep enough to only catch glimpses of it even on his worst days and now it’s all coming back to bite him in the ass, triggered by four simple words. It’s a tidal wave, cruel and violent, wrenching him away from the safe shores of not-remembering. It hurts, the tears forcing their way out from under his closed eyelids, the sobs wracking his body, the memory– he didn't know remembering could be this painful and he whimpers with each sniffle, effectively falling apart. 

It barely registers when there’s a hiss of hydraulics and the clank of something heavy falling on the floor and he drags in a surprised breath when arms come down around him and press his head against a warm plastron. He hiccups, trying to calm down to make sense of it, but the memory pulls him in again and he’s sobbing against whoever is holding him. The embrace is soft and gentle but firm in a way that reminds him of the very brother he’s breaking down over. 

It's. It's Donnie. Donnie is holding him, his apparent disregard for his own boundaries almost enough to make Leonardo still from surprise. Shame flares up in his core and he presses his fingers hard against his eyes, grunting when white static illuminates his vision. Donnie is still a teenager. A kid. He shouldn’t have to bear witness to this, much less feel like he should offer comfort. 

But Leonardo can’t will himself to talk, nor push the softshell away. The thing about comfort is that it’s supposed to be, you guessed it, comforting, and Leonardo feels warmth slowly spread from his shoulders down, chasing away the ice of the past. 

He hears Donnie sigh and his hand is promptly pried off his face and deposited on the edge of his soft shell. It’s a permit to hold onto him, Leonardo’s thoughts sluggishly provide, and he wraps his arm around the smaller turtle. Donnie goes rigid but he slowly relaxes, returning his own arm onto Leonardo’s shoulder. 

Leonardo holds on. Donnie is so small, much smaller than he remembers but the familiar, smooth give of Donnie’s shell under his arm is unmistakable. It makes him cry harder but each sob and each aching breath makes something untangle in his chest. He knows he has needed this for a long time. It doesn’t make it any easier to ignore the immense guilt he feels about making Donnie of all turtles suffer through this but at least he’s not trauma-dumping on the poor kid. That’d be more Dr. Feelings’ speed (either of them) and Leonardo doesn’t really know if he’d even be ready for that. 

Dr. Feelings. Leonardo almost smiles at the realisation. That’s why Donnie is doing this for him, was even prepared for it – he doesn’t know why he was surprised in the first place. Mikey had a first-row seat to his previous breakdown and must’ve held a meeting with his immediate family. He suspects Donnie wasn’t too happy about the whole “hey so if the old man breaks down on you, hug him” deal, but the fact that he’s doing it anyway is a testament to how much he cares about his family. 

How much he cares about Leonardo. The thought hits him like a brick and his breath stutters, his emotions suddenly all over the place. He’s not crying anymore, thankfully, but there’s a completely different feeling occupying his chest now. 

Family has always been everything to Donatello. Of course he cares about him. A part of Leonardo wants him to believe that he doesn't deserve it but to his genuine surprise, that voice is easy to ignore this time. It floods him with relief and the resulting weightlessness in his chest is new and precious. He can feel a soft smile spread on his face and he nuzzles against Donnie's plastron on instinct, too deep-sunk in his own head to realise it at first. 

Wait. Oh no. He's overstepped. 

Leonardo lets his arm fall from Donnie's shell and he leans back, or tries to – Donnie doesn't let him. 

"Listen," the softshell sighs and Leonardo stills. "Firstly, don't apologise. This is awkward enough as is. And secondly, you are very welcome." 

Leonardo hears the crooked smile in Donnie's voice and when he tries pulling away again, Donnie lets him. 

"I know, we all know, that things are tough for you, so think nothing of this. I don’t–" and here Donnie swallows, then tries again, crossing his arms across his chest. 

"I do not know if I would be able to deal with the loss of my family even half as well as you are. In fact, I'm certain that I'd finally go insane. I am not actually sorry for asking, however. Thought you should know that." 

Donnie avoids his eyes and Leonardo feels a jolt of amusement that isn't his own in his chest. It's a bizarre feeling and he rubs the scutes in the middle. 

"I think… I think my Donnie disagrees?" he says, confused. The softshell looks back at him, equally baffled. 

"What?" 

"You're stronger than you think, is what I mean," Leonardo quickly backpedals, not willing to deal with whatever that was yet. 

"We lost dad and Raph earlier than any of us were prepared for. Donatello kept his wits about him until the end," and his gaze turns fond, "you're so much stronger than you think." 

Donnie seems speechless but only until a flashing dot on his bracer steals his attention. 

"Aaaand we have an eavesdropper. I know you're there, Leo!" the softshell raises his voice toward the end of the sentence and Leonardo looks in the direction of the door. Sure enough, they hear a loud sigh and their surprise guest steps into view, aiming for nonchalant but clearly miffed that he was found out. 

"Ugh, Dee, I hate it when you do that. How did you even know I was there?" 

Leonardo looks at Donnie, raising a brow ridge. 

"You still haven't told them about the–" 

"Thhhedon't worry about it!" Donnie quickly exclaims, nabbing Leonardo's hoodie and pushing it over his head. "We're done here, anyway, so off you go!" 

"Told us about what?" Leonardo hears the younger slider ask suspiciously and he struggles to right the garment and pull it on so he can see again. Leo strides forward to stand next to him and leans his elbow on his shoulder, squinting at his twin. 

“Donald.”  

The softshell is visibly sweating and Leonardo decides to spare him. Why he has to lie about the trackers, Leonardo will never understand, but frankly, he’s too tired to care anymore. He stands up, unbalancing Leo in the process and grabs him by the lip of his shell to throw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The teen in question yelps and flails but Leonardo switches his grip to hold him snugly against his shoulder. 

“Alright, we’re leaving,” he tells both of the kids, “and Donnie. Thank you. No need to hurry with the arm, okay?” 

An emotion Leonardo can’t quite decipher flashes across Donnie’s face but he’s quick to hide it. As per usual. 

“Yeah, sure,” he says, turning back to his computer. “Thanks for taking care of that nuisance for me. Not owing you for this one, though.” 

Leonardo chuckles. “Alright.” 

“Put me down! Hey!” Leo protests but Leonardo pretends not to hear him and leaves the lab. He very much needs a nap. They pass Raph in the atrium and the snapper merely grins at his little brother’s pleas for help. 

“I dunno what you did but I’m sure you deserve that,” he laughs, and Leo crosses his arms, glaring at his brother until he’s out of sight. Leonardo feels light even with the cranky teenager on his back – Leo weighs almost nothing to him – and he walks down the steps to the TV room. The bigger sofa is thankfully vacant and he plops down to sit on it, skillfully arranging the smaller slider so he’s pressed against his chest. He slides down to lay his head on one of the soft pillows propped against the armrest and oh, this is exactly what he needed. 

“What are you doing?” Leo grumbles as he’s trying to wriggle out of Leonardo’s steely grip. 

“Making sure you won’t go and bother Donnie again. You’re taking a nap with me.” 

“I’m not a baby! Nor a geriatric old man!”

“Shhh. I’m sleeping,” Leonardo shushes him as he closes his eyes. 

“I’ll find out what you two are keeping from the rest of us,” Leo hisses at him but then stops struggling, to Leonardo’s pleasant surprise. Maybe he can keep his makeshift weighted blanket a little longer than he thought likely but in any case, Donnie has had plenty of time to lock the door to his lab by now so it doesn’t really matter if Leo decides to flee. 

“Sure,” Leonardo mumbles, already feeling the sweet weight of sleep pulling him down. “Sleep, kid.” 

The last thing he hears is unintelligible grumbling and he thinks it’s making him smile before his consciousness slips under the welcoming mantle of a midday nap. 

Chapter Text

Michelangelo is worried.

His older brother still keeps his feelings bottled which makes it easier for his triggers to cause problems. Of course Leonardo doesn't want any breakdowns to happen, he’s said as much, but it won't get any better if just left alone. The box turtle knows it isn't easy to shrug off coping mechanisms that have literally kept one alive for years and years, but now that they're safe, those meticulously built walls are cracking and leaking and doing more harm than good. 

Michelangelo is afraid that if they let this continue, Leonardo will never be able to let go of the ghosts of their past and he'll stay torn between worlds. He already feels guilty enough for inadvertently subjecting their much, much younger siblings to his issues and Michelangelo is becoming desperate to put a stop to it. They’ve both been through enough and he doesn’t want his brother to shoulder any more guilt than he already does. 

He sighs and steps into the TV room. He spots his brothers straight away – Raph is laying on his plastron completely engulfing one of the bean bags, his limbs hanging off it, Leonardo leaning against his side, head tilted back and snoring, with Leo spread across his lap. They’re absolutely dead to the world, despite the blaring sounds of a game show playing on the widescreen. The bass-boosted EDM beats coming from Donnie’s lab are partly contributing to the cacophony, but… all families have their creature comforts. This, to them, sounds like home.  

Michelangelo smiles and tries to pull a blanket from the back of the armchair but stops when he feels a weight on it. He peers over the backrest and sees Splinter half-tucked in, holding Mikey – who’s currently in his shell – in his arms, both also sleeping soundly. It’s so sweet Michelangelo can only watch for a moment. Tears start to sting his eyes, quickly blurring his vision and he lets them fall. 

He misses his dad, he misses everyone so much, but he’s made peace with his losses. And it’s not like they’re actually gone, either – Michelangelo can feel the gentle hum of their love in his chest every time he closes his eyes, even though it's different now in this timeline. Back in their own branch, Michelangelo had no issues contacting their fallen brethren through meditation. He hasn't really tried to do that yet here, content to just bask in the soft glow of their projected warmth. 

Leonardo has also learned that his family is still with him but he clearly hasn’t grasped what it actually means and the mystic warrior decides that it’s up to him to lead his big brother properly to the path of healing. 

He knows how to make that happen; what they need is a family meeting.

But not a conventional one. 

“Master Michelangelo?” 

Casey’s concerned voice startles the turtle out of his thoughts. He hadn’t heard him come down but despite the surprise, he smiles easily and puts a finger to his lips, tilting his head towards their slumbering family. Casey’s eyes follow the movement and Michelangelo is treated to a sight that’d melt even the iciest of hearts – the boy’s gaze fills with serene affection when it lands on his sensei. 

It’s beyond sweet, but Michelangelo’s baby brother instincts are stirring and he isn’t just going to ignore them. He pulls Casey into a sideways hug and digs around in one of his hoodie’s pockets. Finding what he was looking for, he holds out two markers and grins at Casey’s baffled frown, keeping his voice low when he asks his question. 

“Say, Junior – wanna play a prank on your old man?” 

– 

–

A frustrated groan tears its way through Michelangelo’s airways and he falls backwards onto his bed. He rubs the heels of his thumbs against his eyes. This isn’t working. Why isn’t it working? Do they really need the scroll to be able to– 

The box turtle refuses to finish that thought. Nope, not thinking about that. GramGram and the rest of their ancestors have never actually needed the scroll, so his brothers shouldn’t either! But what if the different time branch is messing with their ability to manifest? What if… what if they just can’t because this isn’t their original timeline. It's a crushing thought because it could easily be true. After arriving here, all he's gotten from the spirit side of his family are feelings and brief, fleeting thoughts – he hadn't spared it much thought before now and he realises his mistake. 

Michelangelo feels like crying. He doesn’t want to. His chest constricts with a dry sob anyway and it hurts, but not for long. A warmth washes over him as the pain is soothed away and he draws a deep breath, setting his hand against his heart. The colour he feels is distinctly purple, which surprises him, although it shouldn’t. He knows that Donatello is as worried about Leonardo as he is and is probably right there with Michelangelo and his frustration. 

Twins 'til the end, and beyond, Michelangelo muses and turns to lay on his side. He plucks at the dressings on his arm. The memory of finding Leonardo in the rubble, barely conscious and clutching Donatello’s body is still as vivid to him as yesterday. It took everything in Michelangelo to pry Leonardo's stiff arms open and off the softshell to wrap them around himself instead. 

None of them slept that night. 

He hears a scoff at the edge of his awareness and he smiles. Donatello has always expressed his resentment over his death loud and clear. Michelangelo is happy to drop the subject anyway and he shifts his thoughts back toward their manifestation problem. 

It could just be an issue of a weak connection and they need more ninpo – therefore Michelangelo alone isn't enough and their brothers need Leonardo's presence, maybe even Casey's. And if that is still not enough, the lair is chock-full of Hamato and since the younger Leo is able to feel his other brothers, so should the rest. 

He frowns at himself for not bringing that up with his own younger self. Mikey might not have awakened the full potential of his mystic powers yet but Michelangelo can feel it just below the surface, swirling and shining and waiting. Draxum has yet to get back to him about Mikey's training – God forbid Michelangelo let the boy go through what he did – so it didn’t really cross his mind. In any case, Mikey is so young and so powerful and his help will be vital if the Future Fam (nicknamed by Mikey, of course) can’t solve this by themselves. 

Michelangelo sighs. Well, they'll just have to try. He tugs on the bandage on his left arm and it comes loose, revealing the scarring underneath. It’s healing well, he supposes – it definitely helps that he hasn’t used his powers, as Draxum instructed. It's been oddly refreshing to walk around instead of floating, he admits, and since their younger siblings have also taken a break from patrolling there hasn't been any pressure on him to be on alert in case something happens. 

It has been lovely, actually. He was surprised at first how easy it was for him to fall into the cheerful little brother role he used to live and breathe before the invasion but soon he realised that he was straight up mirroring his younger self's energy. And how could he not? Mikey's joyful nature is contagious, so contagious in fact that Michelangelo just knew that he used to be that same turtle. The exact same. Michelangelo doesn't know if Leonardo has realised that his younger self is him and not just another version from another timeline but with how fragile his big brother is at the moment, he hopes he hasn't. It's tough to wrap his head around even with all the emotional intelligence Michelangelo possesses so Leonardo might just completely crumble if faced with the truth. Better leave that be for now. 

Michelangelo unwraps both of his arms to let the scales breathe and lays on his shell, settling comfortably among the multitude of colourful pillows Mikey and Leo have procured for him. His body doesn't ache as much as it did before but the extra softness is still very much appreciated. 

– 

“Should we really be doing this?” Leonardo asks across from him for the tenth time, or at least that’s how it feels to Michelangelo. He sighs and tries his best not to let his smile fall. 

“Yes! You clearly need it, and our brothers agree. Now please just concentrate, Leo.” 

“But I–” the slider starts and his little brother sees how the words get stuck in his throat. Michelangelo knows what he's afraid of. 

Blame and judgement. 

Leonardo doesn’t think he's ready to face his older brothers because of the guilt he still carries to this day. The knowledge lays heavy on Michelangelo's mind – and that, to him, is more the reason to go through with this. They need to have better communication with their clan and if they succeed here, Michelangelo is sure that the fragments of their splintered connection will glue themselves back together. 

"Look, Leo," he says softly, "no matter what your dumb brain tells you, you did a great job at leading the resistance. Amazing, even. Not many could have achieved what you did – decades of fighting impossible odds, keeping people alive and fed and as safe as possible and not losing heart while doing all that. I'm so proud of you, Leo. Dad, Draxum, April, Raph and Donnie are too."

Michelangelo sees Leonardo's jaw clench in emotion but his eyes are glazed over and distant. 

"I failed them, though," his voice is raspy and broken and Michelangelo's stomach twists. He hates this, he hates how little worth Leonardo sees in himself, even now. He does understand how even the greatest strides might feel like nothing compared to losing people closest to you but Leonardo can't let himself fall into that abyss. It wasn't this bad back in the apocalypse – they couldn't afford inaction so all Leonardo ever did was hover on the edge, back turned to the yawning chasm of paralysing depression, always feeling the pull but never turning back to look. Now, he's looking, and Michelangelo desperately needs him to step away from the edge altogether. 

"You know that's not true," his reply is sharp and Leonardo flinches. "It was war. People die. You can't save everyone, you shouldn't hold yourself to that standard 'cause it's just not possible. You did everything you could. You did not fail them." 

He takes a deep breath and fixes his gaze firmly on Leonardo. 

"They will tell you so themselves. We can even bet on it." 

There's a touch of a surprised smile on the slider's face and a smug grin pulls at Michelangelo's mouth. 

"I'll bet my awesome new Red Fox mug on it. I'll even go as far as to let you off without betting a thing yourself." 

Leonardo huffs out a short laugh at that and he tilts his head to the side, raising a brow ridge. 

"Alright, then. I have no objections to owning not just one but two rare JJ mugs." 

Michelangelo is grinning from ear to ear. Nothing like weaponising his brother's competitive nature against him. It even seems to have brightened his mood and the box turtle almost chirps in delight. 

"It's a deal! Now, let's get this show on the road, baby!" 

– 

It takes them a few tries. Leonardo is still stiff from nerves and Michelangelo gets distracted by his desire to comfort him – or, alternatively, snarl at him to get it together – but as they keep meditating, Leonardo finds his balance and it gets easier. Their markings flare and settle into a stable glow. They reach out to their brothers, calling them, clinging onto the strings tethering them to their lost family, feeling the connection strengthen. It fills them with warmth and excitement and finally, 

something snaps into place. 

Chapter Text

The swirl of ninpo around them is almost blindingly bright as it grows and grows before concentrating in the middle of the floor into a cocoon-like shape, glowing and rippling and from within, a tall silhouette emerges.  

Donatello's feet touch the ground, and he doesn’t give his form time to fully materialise before stomping over to Leonardo. His approach on the concrete floor is silent but it doesn’t make it any less threatening. The slider feels like his eyes are going to fall out of their sockets, the prickle of tears in them almost burning. 

It’s really his brother. His twin. That scowl is unmistakable.  

Donatello stops one step away and drops into a crouch in front of Leonardo, lifts his hand and slaps him square in the face. Or would have slapped him if the hand didn't phase right through his head.  

The scientist huffs in irritation, flexes his fingers and tries again. 

The resulting sound echoes sharply in the room and Leonardo doesn't even realise his neck made a rather nasty pop as his head was wrenched to the side by the force of the hit before he's being pulled into an embrace that he thought he'd never feel again. It’s a little tingly at first, a little fuzzy at the edges, and he can't smell his brother but it is real. His body doesn't move, rooted in place as if paralysed. The slap felt deserved, but this? Does he deserve this?   

"You can't keep doing this to yourself," Donatello mutters into his ear. "You know I'm here," he moves away enough to splay his fingers on Leonardo's chest, on his heart, firm and warm and there, and Leonardo chokes on a sob.  

"We're all here, you dumdum, and I have no idea why you keep convincing yourself otherwise. You're alive, 'Nardo. Live."   

Leonardo's arm moves on its own to wrap around his twin, squeezing him as hard as he can, and he crumbles. His twin merely holds him closer.  

“I don’t–” he hiccups, “I can’t, Dee. I keep thinking you must be there because I feel you sometimes but, but I–“ 

“Don’t think you deserve our attention, he said, without an ounce of doubt. Sigh. You’re so smart. How can someone as smart as you be so stupid?” 

“It’s probably the depression,” Leonardo chuckles mirthlessly, briefly wondering how the ghostly fabric of Donatello’s cape doesn’t feel that weird bunched up in his fist. 

“Hah. Right,” the softshell mutters. “You should probably do something about that.”  

Leonardo buries his face into Donatello’s shoulder. He knows.  

“Let’s talk about something else,” he murmurs, his muffled voice barely audible. A hand falls onto his shell and the familiar touch is– it’s–  

Heavy, gentle. Wide palms, strong arms, even stronger heart.

Leonardo’s head whips up to look to the side and he sees Raphael, kneeling right there beside them, glowy and ethereal and smiling and the slider’s heart stutters in his chest. He doesn’t know if he can take any more of this. There’s a tug inside his head, towards the back, and he opens that path of his mind without a second thought.

We don’t hafta talk, lil bro, he hears a voice in his head, as clear as the day he last heard it and Leonardo's jaw drops. Ninja mind meld works, even like this? He doesn’t want to let go of Donatello but he also wants to hold his oldest brother, pull him close, close, closer, his armless shoulder already straining for the movement. Lucky for him, he doesn’t really have to move. 

Raphael leans forward and draws both of the twins into his arms, Donatello making a small noise in protest but allowing it, shifting to accommodate the new position. Leonardo lets his head thud against the snapper’s plastron and the sob that escapes him is downright pathetic. Thankfully no one mentions it. 

It doesn’t take long for Michelangelo to join them, wiggling under Leonardo and Donatello’s arms to settle comfortably in the middle of the hug. 

"Isn't this nice?" he coos and Donatello frees his hand to pat him on the head. It earns him a giggle and even Raphael laughs, Donatello’s crooked smile betraying his emotions. Leonardo watches them with a soft smile of his own but there's an odd buzzing in his ears and he feels… he feels a little sweaty, and distant, as if a veil had suddenly lowered between him and his brothers, pulling him away from them. 

The last thing he sees and hears is Donatello’s smile falling as he suddenly reaches for him and calls his name in alarm.

•

•

•

"Leo. Leeeeeo." 

Static. Leonardo is sure he was doing something. What was he doing? Why's there so much static in his head? 

"Leo." 

It's uncomfortable. Go away, static. It… it was important…

"'Nardo, come on." 

His twin’s voice cuts through the muddled landscape of his mind and Leonardo stirs. He opens his eyes to see all three of his brothers peering down at him in concern. They're very blurry. 

"Huh. Whah?" he manages to skillfully enunciate and Michelangelo disappears from view for a moment before he's back with a glass of juice. 

"Ya fainted," Raphael explains as he gently sets Leonardo’s legs down from his shoulders and helps him sit back up. Leonardo feels woozy and while his vision is clearing and the static is thankfully disappearing, his head doesn't feel quite right yet. His little brother pushes the glass into his hand. 

"Drink, slowly. Dammit Leo, you scared me. Us. When's the last time you ate?" 

Leonardo decides to fix his gaze on the badge holding Donatello’s cape closed while nursing the sweet drink. 

He doesn’t remember. 

"I don't remember," he replies truthfully and gets three annoyed groans in return. Almost feels like the old times, he muses. The only glaring difference is that now two of his brothers are glowy ninpo spirits. 

"Oh, I knew I shoulda pestered you about lunch! That's it, I'm dragging you to eat with us every single time from now on–”  

"Wow wow wow wow, Mikes, stop, no. You don't have to. I just didn't have an appetite today!" 

"That does track. He was getting increasingly anxious about helping us get here, which was, may I say, completely illogical, so it is not the worst excuse I've ever heard," Donatello hums. 

"It's creepy how you know that," Leonardo mutters against the rim of his glass. 

"Scoff. As if. I am not there all the time; we’ve got hot ghost shit to do and cannot hover over you 24/7." 

"Ya shouldn't have slapped him, Don," Raphael cuts in with a frown. He's sitting close to Leonardo, clearly anticipating him to fall over again, ready to catch him. It would be sweet if a thin thread of frustration didn't start unwinding at the edge of the slider's thoughts. 

"Not apologising for that," the softshell sneers. "Someone had to do it. 'Nardo needed to be brought back to his senses. Although," he fixes his critical stare on Leonardo, "I’m not sure if it worked. Mayhaps I should try again." 

"No more slapping!" Michelangelo interjects and scoots over to perch himself on Raphael's lap. It brings some of that big-brotherly attention off of Leonardo and he's internally grateful for his little brother. 

The three continue bickering however, the familiarity of it both comforting and maddening at the same time, and Leonardo feels that frustration unravelling until it threatens to snap and spill over. He tries to hold his tongue but when his glass is empty, so are his mental reserves. 

"Stop it! Please!" he grits out, the words sharper than he intended but he doesn’t have the mind to care. His brothers look at him with different levels of incredulity on their faces. He shakes his head and grips the glass in his hand a little too tightly.  

"I almost can't believe you're here and I can talk to you again but why are you– why aren't you cross with me? Why are you acting like nothing’s changed and you're alright with how I have the gall to enjoy a peaceful life that I should have made sure belonged to you?!"

Donatello and Raphael just stare at him. Leonardo feels like he’s going to cry again. 

Michelangelo sighs and bonks the back of his head against Raphael’s chest, waving his arms in a large circle. 

“Y’all see? Tell him!” he groans and lets his arms fall down. “He’s so stuck in that thick head of his. “It’s not about me”, blah blah, sure. He's not hearing himself. It so is about him and he just doesn’t see it.” 

Donatello drags a hand down his face. 

“And I really cannot hit him again?” 

“No!”

“Groan, fine. Look, Leo–” Donatello starts but Raphael stops him by reaching over and tapping on his shoulder, once. The snapper looks at Leonardo and the weight of his gaze immediately pins him down. 

“We are so proud of you, little brother,” Raphael says with all the meaning he can muster behind those words and Leonardo feels like all the air in his lungs was punched out of him. 

“We heard what you told Mikey. We’ve seen what you think of yourself. Yer not bein’ fair to the person you’ve become, Leo. And believe it or not, yer not bein’ fair to us, either. 

“See, lil bro… We love you and we trust you. You should trust yourself, as well. It wasn’t yer fault things happened the way they did. Raph did his part in keepin’ our family safe, as did Donnie and everyone else you lost along the way. You kept Mikey and Casey safe. Ya pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down yet?” 

“Yeah, what he said,” Donatello mutters, clearly itching to have some sort of tech at his fingertips to fiddle with. All that collective time spent dead and neither of the two older brothers seem to have changed a bit. 

Leonardo honestly feels like he’s going to faint again. Somehow, he’s quickly losing the battle of holding onto the self-deprecating thoughts that make it impossible for him to admit that he’s worth something. That he did well. That he’s allowed to go out and enjoy this second chance at life.

That he didn’t fail his family and they’re still here with him, no matter what. The glow of his brothers’ spirits is a strong reminder of that fact especially.  

He draws a shuddering breath and looks down at his lap, blinking stray tears from his eyes. 

“I… yeah,” he swallows, lifting his head and attempting a smile. It goes horribly and he knows he’s probably grimacing instead but it hardly matters as Michelangelo is quickly reaching over, twining his arms around his neck and pulling himself from Raphael’s lap into Leonardo’s. He has to drop the empty glass to get a hold of his little brother’s shell so he doesn’t lose his balance and fall over. 

“Told ya,” the box turtle grins against his cheek, his voice lilting. He sounds like a textbook definition of the cat that got the cream and Leonardo knows what he’s going to say next. Somehow, looking at the ever-patient faces of his long-lost brothers over Michelangelo’s head, it doesn’t make him feel as annoyed as he thinks it should. 

“I won the bet!” 

Yeah. It doesn’t feel like he lost at all. Leonardo still thinks he doesn’t deserve the love and recognition his brothers seem so adamant about pouring on him, but he also thinks he will learn to believe that he does. That feeling is new and light and his chest feels open. His brothers are here – what is there to be afraid of, anymore? It feels true and it feels simple.  

Nothing’s been simple for him in such a long time. He can’t help but laugh. The sound bubbles up deep from his chest, full and free and bright, enveloping him in hope.  

Chapter Text

The last time Leonardo held his brother, his twin, his Donnie, he had felt him grow colder and colder until the body in his arms could have well been made of ice.

This time, he feels the unconcealed, sharp-edged warmth of Donatello’s ninpo against his chest, his neck, his arm – Leonardo would laugh from the joy of it if he wasn’t crying.

And he doesn’t know how or why he’s doubted all this time if Donatello still was with him, because he knows the shape of this energy, knows the warmth it has provided him through sleepless nights in his train car and even during the day, at times, when their emotions have bled through.

He buries his face into Donatello’s shoulder and doesn’t let go. This time, he doesn’t have to. Not until he’s ready.

This time, his brother will still be here when he does.

Chapter Text

"How's dad? April?" 

"Oh, they're just peachy," Raphael rumbles with a laugh, "I just know they can't wait to come visit. Y'all better be ready cuz Raph thinks they ain't gonna leave for a while when they do." 

"Sigh. They miss you so much they cannot stop talking about you and it's nauseating. It'll be good to have them off our backs for a few hours. Oh, sweet relief." 

The expression on Donatello's face changes then, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone. 

"Please don't be in a hurry to join us," the softshell says, quieter, and the look he gives Leonardo is so soft the slider thinks his heart just grew a few sizes by that alone. The scientist must recognise the mirrored expression on Leonardo's face as he coughs awkwardly and lifts his chin. 

"I do know it is already too late for you anyway, but I very much enjoy being the twin with the eternal boyish good looks." 

Leonardo grins. The deflection isn’t unexpected and they all know that his previous words were sincere. 

"You're 37, Dee. Nothing boyish about you anymore." 

"Offended gasp! How dare you. Witness these supple, glowy scales!" 

"Yeah they're glowy alright," Michelangelo cackles from Leonardo’s lap. "Might have something to do with your current form more than your age." 

Donatello narrows his eyes at him. 

"As if you have any grounds to talk, old man.” 

Michelangelo gasps. “I’ll have you know, me ‘n Draxum are working on it. And look!” 

The box turtle pulls up his sleeves dramatically and peels off the bandages covering his arms. He holds them up proudly for all of them to see and both Raphael and Donatello are stunned to silence. 

The deep cracks that used to run across the entirety of Michelangelo’s arms for years have been replaced by new tissue growth, smoothing the surface. The new scales on top are lighter in colour, still showing the pattern of the damage, but they look healthy and vibrant. The wounds caused by his last portal are looking good as well and even Leonardo is impressed. His own scales have healed faster but that’s no wonder – he wasn’t the one at risk of being consumed by his own mystic power. 

“Mikey, that’s– that’s incredible,” Raphael says and his voice is thick with emotion. Donatello sighs but his eyes are glinting with mirth. 

“Alright Miguel, you win this one! Send my regards to Draxum. That is awesome.” 

Michelangelo grins. 

“Two wins in one day! I’m on fire, baby!” he whoops with a fist pump and nearly hits Leonardo on the chin. They laugh about it, all four of them, and Leonardo loves how easy it is to breathe. 

– 

Anatawa hitorijanai. 

It’s 1 AM and Leonardo mulls over the sentence in his mind, feeling foolish. While it’s true that the Hamato way of training and discipline was never right for him and his brothers, proven by the Shredder debacle all that time ago, those words always stayed true. Yet here Leonardo is, just having been forced to learn that all over again. It’s humbling in a way that irritates the part of him that still holds onto his ego and it makes him feel even more foolish. 

His brothers are here. Always have been, despite the timeline-tomfoolery, and the slider sighs. He’s so happy it feels ridiculous – this is the one thing he could have taken for granted in his messed up life and he didn't. Self-sabotage seems on brand for him, though, and he sighs. 

A knock on his wall startles him back to the present and he puts aside the forgotten comic he’d borrowed from Leo, being careful not to crease the pages. He never has the door of his train car closed, instead having opted for a curtain. He doesn’t feel the need for much privacy and it makes it easier for Casey and Michelangelo to sneak in without waking him up in the middle of the night – or whenever he’s been lucky enough to fall asleep. 

The knock is peculiar, however. Only Splinter and Raph knock before coming in and he doesn’t sense them nearby, instead feeling the nervous energy of one certain human boy hovering right beyond the frame of the door. 

“Case?” he calls out. “What’s the matter?”

The boy shuffles in, looking anywhere that isn’t him. It’s worrying and Leonardo sits up. 

“Come here, kid,” he says softly, patting the empty space next to him on the bed. Casey sighs and sits down. He keeps his gaze low and worries the hem of his nightshirt in a spot that’s already fraying. Leonardo doesn’t push it and he shifts backwards to lean his shell against the wall, making himself comfortable. He trusts that Casey will follow suit if he wants to. 

“Sorry for bothering you,” the teen murmurs then and Leonardo feels like his Raph-chasms triple in quantity because of that one sentence only. He reaches up to put his hand on Casey’s shoulder and to his relief, he leans into it. 

“Casey. I’m always here for you. Always. Don’t you ever doubt that. You can come to me with anything, whenever you need to.” 

Casey chuckles but it sounds broken and Leonardo suddenly feels like the ground under his feet has disappeared. This boy, his kid, is so exceptionally strong that there haven’t been many instances he’s come to him, fragile like this – there are so few, in fact, that Leonardo can remember every single one. To see and hear him so vulnerable here is nothing short of heartbreaking. 

Casey pulls his socked feet up to the bed, hugs his knees against his chest and hides his face into the circle of his arms. 

"I miss my mom," he confesses and Leonardo's heart really does break for him. Cassandra was extraordinary. Full of fight and determination and when it came to Casey, her love for him knew no bounds. She was an amazing mother, a little (a lot) intense at times, maybe, but always well-meaning. Leonardo squeezes Casey's shoulder. He misses her too. 

"I… I wish she was here. Safe. With us. But more than that," Casey pauses and sniffles, "I hope that she's watching over me. Is that stupid?" 

A cold weight settles in Leonardo's stomach. Cass' spirit is not with the Hamato. He considers her a sister, just like April, but ever after leaving the Foot she had been carving a path of her own even when sticking close to Leonardo and his family. 

He knows the world’s religions have concepts about life after death and things like that but the harrowing years of the invasion have effectively obliterated any little knowledge he's had about them. He flounders, not knowing if anything he can say would be comforting. 

"No, no kid, of course it's not stupid. I don’t know much about souls but I can bet my left arm that not even death could keep her from you. You remember how stubborn she was, yeah?” 

Casey looks up at him then, his wide eyes shining from tears. 

"Yeah," he breathes out, a wobbly smile on his face. Leonardo wants nothing more than to squeeze him against his chest, shield him from the weight of memories and grief, keep him safe forever. Casey has been through things a 16-year-old should never have to experience and Leonardo hopes with every fibre of his being that someday he'll be able to lead a relatively normal, human life. 

And that stirs up an idea. It’s a gamble but it’s worth it to at least ask. 

"Case. Would you like to meet the Cassandra of this world?" 

The teenager stares at him. Leonardo sees different expressions flit across his face before of all things it settles into a blush accompanied by brows raised so high they nearly touch his hairline. 

“What?” Casey squeaks. “Oh, oh no, I’m not ready! I can’t, is– isn’t she my age? That’s so weird! What if I call her mom? I can’t do that, oh–” 

Leonardo stifles the surprised laughter that threatens to escape his beak and he quickly and efficiently stops Casey from continuing his spiralling monologue by grabbing him from under his arm and pulling him against himself into a tight embrace. The action causes his wrist to twinge but he ignores it. He’s got more important things to think about. 

He shushes the boy, not unlike he would do to a baby, the thought causing him to fail at keeping the amusement out of his voice. “It’s okay, sorry for springing it up at you like this! The thing is, though, that she’s going to visit the lair sooner or later and not to be a party pooper but that choice could be taken away from you. Respectfully.” 

Casey looks very much like the tone of his voice isn’t appreciated but he hums thoughtfully before making himself comfortable on top of Leonardo, smushing his face against the soft hoodie. 

“I’ll… think about it. Appreciate the heads up, dad.” 

Leonardo feels warmth spill into his chest and his grip on Casey tightens. The boy audibly swallows. 

“Is it… is it okay if I call you dad? I never really asked…” 

Leonardo snorts, almost not believing his ears. 

“You kidding me? Case, I’m honoured,” he chuckles and presses his chin on top of Casey’s head, squeezing him closer. 

“You’re the best son ever.” 

–

–

“If we’d have to fight in a battle royale, who do you think would win?” 

Leonardo barks out a short laugh, straightening both of his legs and making Michelangelo grab at the sofa’s armrest so he doesn’t fall off from where he’s lounging on his brother’s lap. 

“You kidding? Me, obviously. It’s already in my name.” 

“Suuuure, mister 'moi means Leo in Spanish'.” 

That makes Leonardo’s face heat in embarrassment. 

“Look at you playing dirty. How long will you hold that against me? I was fourteen!”  

Leonardo pokes Michelangelo right above his ear to emphasise his words but immediately flinches and pulls his hand back. 

“Ouch! Your head bit me!” 

Michelangelo blows a raspberry at him.

“Haha, sure, you’re just a sore–” he stops himself in his tracks and lifts a hand to rub his fingers against the top of his head. 

Stubble. 

He feels stubble under his fingertips. 

He slowly looks up at his brother, eyes shining. He works his jaw but no words come out. Leonardo is staring at him in concern now and it takes a moment but his brain comes back online and he yells. 

“My hair! My hair is growing back!!”

“Wait, what?” 

“Just touch it! Touch my head!” Michelangelo practically drags Leonardo’s hand to his head and presses his palm against it. The slider’s eyes widen. 

“Holy shit.” 

“Right?? Draxum’s therapy is really working! Ohmigosh!” 

There are tears in his eyes but Michelangelo doesn’t really notice. He feels like screaming and jumping and kicking his feet in joy. He has been feeling better and better each day, that bone-deep exhaustion that had made its home in him completely gone by now, and he can’t believe his luck. He’s going to get his hair back. His thick, luscious, black locks (well, the colour is probably subject to change, but whatever). Oh, he’s definitely crying now but luckily his big brother is here to cling to, and he holds onto him with all of his might. 

Leonardo’s hand rubs circles onto Michelangelo’s back and he chuckles above him, the sound soft and fond and it makes the box turtle’s heart swell. 

“I’m happy for you, little brother.” 

Michelangelo laughs wetly and buries his face into the fabric of Leonardo’s hoodie. 

He’s happy. 

They’re safe, they have their family – both in flesh and in spirit. Leonardo is healing, Casey is getting comfortable, and Michelangelo’s body is well on its way to feeling like his own again. 

He’s happy. 

He’s so happy he could burst with it – and he does, as he laughs and cries into his brother’s middle. Leonardo holds him tightly and the future has never seemed as bright as it does at this exact moment. 

Chapter Text

"Are you absolutely, completely, definitely sure you want this?"

"Yes, April! Just do it!"

"Okie dokie, just makin' sure."

The loud buzz of the trimmer fills the bathroom and Michelangelo closes his eyes. It’s hard to sit still on the kitchen stool, his knee keeps bouncing but he can’t help it. April chuckles and places a hand on the side of his head to keep him at least relatively still and gets to work.

The vibration against Michelangelo’s skull is mildly unpleasant but as he hears tufts of hair fall to the floor, he gets giddier with each one. There’s so little of it that this won’t take long and Michelangelo can’t wait to get it done and over with.

His hair is growing back. The stubble seems to get longer every few days and now that it's visible, he's starting to look a little stupid so it was finally time to get rid of the old greyed strands he has clung onto with tooth and nail. It might’ve been redundant, given how many years the grey hair added in addition to his currently not-as-withered complex, but he just couldn’t bring himself to shave it off.

Until now.

“Alrighty, we’re done! Ta-dah!”

Michelangelo throws his eyes open and stares at his reflection in the mirror. He looks younger. He’s smiling. He looks younger.

April is grinning next to him, switching off the trimmer and putting it on the counter.

“Gotta say, you’re looking much more like yourself now,” she laughs, patting him on the head.

“April,” Michelangelo says then, and his face hurts from how wide he’s smiling. The girl doesn’t get any other warning before she’s tackled to the ground, thankfully landing on the fluffy rug at the doorway instead of cold, hard tile.

“Oof! Okay, Mikester, I take it that you like your new do?”

Michelangelo laughs and hugs her tighter.

“April, I love it! Thank you!!”

Suddenly the bathroom door swings open and Leo waltzes in, noticing the two too late and tumbling over them to join them on the floor, scuffing his elbows in the process.

“Ouch, what the heck?!”

“Ouch you, how have you still not learned how to knock?” April yells, releasing her hold on Michelangelo to punch Leo on his arm. “Or like, I dunno, look where you’re going?”

Leo grumbles and gets up from the floor, theatrically dusting himself off.

“Well excuse me for assuming the bath was unoccupied since the door was unlocked, Miss O’Neil,” he bristles but then takes a better look at Michelangelo.

“Wait, I thought– old man? You get a haircut or something?”

Michelangelo chirps at him, earning an odd look from both of the teenagers, and laughs.

“Indeed I did! Looks awesome, right?”

Leo stares for a few seconds and then shrugs, an amused smile rising to his face.

“Yeah. You and Mikey are twinning now for real!”

“For real for real,” April echoes, and the two laugh, and Michelangelo feels like there’s something he isn’t quite getting. It doesn’t matter, though, he’s too happy to dwell on it.

It’s way too early for daydreaming but damn it, he’s already looking forward to getting to tie up his hair, maybe even braid it. Oh, braids would be beautiful. He really hopes it won’t take too much time for his hair to grow long enough for that.

And most importantly – he can’t wait to gloat about it in Leonardo’s face.

–

–

“Big Blue? Do you have a moment?”

Leonardo looks up from the sudoku book he’s been entertaining himself with for the past half hour and meets the worried gaze of his– of Splinter. It doesn’t bode well and he feels a knot in his stomach.

“Of course. What is it?”

Splinter sighs and walks closer, sitting down cross-legged next to him.

“I do not want to assume so… we’re you always the leader in your time?”

Leonardo frowns. He doesn’t know where this conversation is going but it’s clearly important, so he puts the book down on the kotatsu and rests his hand in his lap.

“No, Raphael was the leader first. I was fourteen when dad made me the leader, but the Krang invasion happened just a few months after that and we ended up co-leading until… until it was just me.”

Pain flashes across Splinter’s features and he leans forward to place his hand on Leonardo’s knee.

“Oh, Blue… I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories. I’m so sorry.”

“No, d– Master Splinter. It’s okay. He’s still here,” Leonardo smiles softly and presses his palm against his plastron. Splinter breathes out a relieved chuckle and squeezes his knee before withdrawing his hand.

“Ah, yes. I am glad.” He seems to hesitate then but braces himself anyway.

“There is a reason why I asked about this… if you’re willing to listen. I… I have a request.”

Leonardo frowns and nods. Splinter sighs heavily.

"No use tip-toeing around it. I messed up, big time, making baby Blue the leader. I just sprung it up on him and his brothers out of nowhere, no preamble, no nothing. I didn't even talk to Red about it beforehand."

Splinter seems to collapse in on himself at the confession and Leonardo feels bad for him, yet the emotions starting to churn in his stomach demand his attention as well. It's how his dad made him the leader, as well, and the sudden empathy toward his younger self cuts through him like a knife through butter.

"He is so clever. So capable and brilliant and I am so proud of him, but he doesn’t seem to want to take his new role seriously – which I cannot blame him for. I have you to thank for saving this planet and our lives so he never has to learn it the hard way," Splinter looks into Leonardo’s eyes with plain sorrow, making it clear how he hurts for him, and it makes warmth bloom in the slider's chest. This Splinter cares for him and for what's left of his family as much as he cares for his own sons.

"What I'm asking from you is… Can you guide my baby Blue? Show him what it is that he needs to embrace his role as the leader? You have shown me that potential in bloom, Leonardo, and Lee needs to see that too. I know this is a lot to ask of you and I’m not expecting any miracles here,” he chuckles slightly awkwardly, “but it would be of great help to the family.”

Leonardo certainly knows where he’s coming from, but to be asked this? He isn’t sure what to think. He’s seen the bickering between Raph and Leo and the physical, glaring evidence of their latest tiff in the boarded-up wall of Leo’s train car so there’s definitely quite the issue; the same issue Leonardo himself had with Raphael when he was made leader.

“What’s it gonna take for you to be serious, Leo?”

Leonardo shudders at the memory. It took the end of the world, apparently. But here, this younger Leonardo, this kid… Leonardo thinks about Leo, about himself, about the burden of being in charge – and suddenly, the decision is easy to make. He sets his jaw and nods.

“I’ll help. I suspect he won’t be happy about it, though.”

Splinter chortles, looking relieved, and claps his hands together.

“Oh, most definitely! He’s just going to have to deal with it.”

Leonardo can’t help but grin. A happy Splinter is a contagious sight, despite the uncertainty welling up in the slider’s chest. He tries to convince himself that there’s nothing to actually be worried about, he’s already mentored one kid and done it well, even, so he has the experience.

Except this time it’s himself from another time he’ll be guiding, and he isn’t that confident about how it all is going to go down. Casey Jones Junior is his mother’s kid in every sense, but even the feisty determination of the Jones’ can’t top the stubborn hard-headedness of a teenaged Hamato Leonardo.

Splinter startles him out of his thoughts when he reaches out to cup Leonardo’s cheek and caresses the space below his eye with his thumb. His gaze is soft, he looks exactly like their long-lost father and Leonardo’s heart seizes in his chest. Splinter smiles.

“Thank you, Leonardo.” He pauses, his smile softening even more. “And please, just call me dad.”

Leonardo stares. Blinks once. And smiles back.

–

"C'mere."

"What?"

"Come here," Leonardo repeats and opens his arms (well, arm) in an invitation. “Let’s have a chat.”

Leo looks baffled and he crosses his arms over his chest, eyes flitting between Leonardo’s face and arm.

"I'm not gonna randomly hug you, you weirdo. I've got cool kid stuff to do."

Leonardo sighs and drops his arm. Leo's gaze turns into a glare.

"Dad put you up to this, didn’t he?"

“How did you–”

“I saw him talking to you. I knew it was about me, I felt it in me bones,” the smaller slider hisses. “It’s about the leader thing, right? Well, tough luck, boss man. You’re cool but ‘m not interested. I’m doing this my way.”

Leonardo, unsurprisingly, feels a headache coming on.

“I thought as much. Look, I’m not here to lecture you or anything like that, let’s just… let’s just talk, yeah?”

That seems to ease some of that apprehension Leo harbours towards the topic and his posture loosens just enough to lower his shoulders from his ears.

“Swear you won’t go all Sensei Master Leonardo on me.”

Leonardo grimaces and Leo smirks at his expression as if he’s won something. Leonardo wasn’t aware of any competition happening right now.

“What…? Eugh, I swear. I just want to know some things, so hopefully it’ll be you who’ll do most of the talking.”

Leo raises a brow ridge at that. He shouldn’t be opposed to hearing his own voice, Leonardo is counting on it, and it seems like the gamble is paying off.

“Huh, okay then.”

Leonardo sighs in relief and lifts his arm to point his thumb behind him.

“Let’s go to the dojo.”

– 

Leonardo takes his seat against one of the walls, facing the tatami, and Leo plops down next to him. Here goes nothing.

“How long have you lived in this lair?”

“Uh. Okay. Several months at this point, I guess,” Leo answers, crossing his arms behind his head and leaning back against the wall. “It’s slowly starting to feel like home. Mikey’s hard at work doing graffiti all over, have you seen his latest one in the TV room? Sick. He had some even sicker ones in the old lair but even the big ones we could have moved were unsalvageable after the whole Shreddy thing.”

Oh, it’s so familiar. Leonardo remembers Michelangelo being heartbroken over it but powering through like the endless source of optimism he is, funnelling all that pent-up grief into his new pieces in the new lair. Leonardo regrets that he doesn’t remember those pieces anymore, but looking at Mikey’s art here… makes him feel like he’s seen all of it before. He chuckles.

“I’ve seen it, yeah. Mikey’s amazing.”

“Dang right he is,” Leo agrees with a wide smile but he’s not looking at Leonardo. “Strongest of us all, huh?”

Leonardo’s surprised at the sudden softness in Leo’s voice but really, he shouldn’t be. Despite all of their past posturing and competing his little brother has always been a soft spot for him – and it’s no different in this world.

Talking about strength, though. Leonardo thinks he knows now what to get Leo to talk about to understand him better, to eventually be able to be a proper support for him. Splinter had asked him for guidance but that’s a tall order as things are now; Leo won’t be receptive to anything he could say or do to directly help him.

He smiles and nudges his elbow against Leo’s shoulder.

“You’ve no idea,” he chuckles. “Did yours also throw a whole cargo ship at Shredder?”

Leo’s eyes brighten.

“He sure did! I wasn’t there to see it, which is super unfair, but Donnie showed me a recording. The feed cuts off too quickly tho because he was too busy ogling the whole thing and crashed into a storage crate.”

Leonardo snorts at that so loudly his nose hurts a little. What are the odds? The mental image of two Donnies having suffered the same lapse in judgement is absurd. And funny.

The whole thing with Shredder, though. Not as funny. 

“How did… how did your fights with Shredder go? Are you comfortable talking about it? Losing, mh, nearly everything isn’t a nice memory and I understand if–”

“Ehhh, pish-posh,” Leo interrupts him and swats Leonardo’s bicep with the back of his hand. “I can talk ‘bout it, especially if it gets you and dad off my shell.”

Leonardo grins sheepishly. “You can’t be fooled. Go on, the stage is yours.”

Leo takes a deep breath and starts recounting those days. The more he talks, the more Leonardo feels his stomach sink. It’s all too familiar. Leonardo can’t help but frown at Leo omitting some details, gaps in the story, pieces that wouldn’t make sense to anyone else but him – the fact that it makes sense to Leonardo makes him feel slightly nauseous.

The deal with Big Mama is predictable enough, but everything else… How is it so familiar? How can it be? Leonardo’s stomach twists after Leo gets to their second brush-up with Shredder and everything just… It’s the same. It’s exactly the same, at least the parts which he remembers and some parts he had forgotten but which are now brought into the forefront of his mind, dug back up from the deep grave of repression. Even the delightful comedy of Donnie's “just for hero poses” drill isn’t enough to distract him from the impending realisation.

Leonardo’s chest aches like it’s never ached before.

"We're the same person," he breathes out and looks at Leo, eyes wide. Leo stops in the middle of his sentence and stares back.

"W-wha?"

"We have the exact same experiences, everything up until the invasion happened just the same way to both of us. Everything we saw, everything we did, everything we felt. We share those memories because we were the same person growing up. Oh, God," Leonardo's words taper off and he holds his head in his hand. Yes, they did create the bifurcated time branch but it doesn’t change the fact that this is them. This is their family. Leonardo is reeling.

It takes a moment for Leo to register all that. Sure, he didn’t really think that the oaf-sized slider was actually himself from the future, just some… Some different Leonardo. From a different timeline, with some similarities and some differences between their worlds. Stuff's been crazy ever since the incident with the key happened, so this isn't– this isn't the worst thing that could have come out of the whole ordeal. Right? I mean, the clearly traumatised middle-aged turtle next to him is proof of that. Leo will never go through what he did. He will never grow up to be exactly like him.

New York and on extension the whole world won't get destroyed by a power-hungry alien race because that same traumatised middle-aged turtle made sure to fix his own mistake this time around.

"You know what? That's uh, that's uhhh. Fine. It's fine? Now I really know I won't lose that, erm, face-man potential even when I get old so that's pretty great! Still not thrilled about the Raph chasms but thank God for no dad bod–"

Leo's stress-induced rambling is cut short when Leonardo grabs him and pulls him into an embrace that threatens to squeeze the air from his lungs. Leo struggles on instinct but as the hold on him loosens he calms down. A little.

"What gives, man?! You can't just keep nabbing me like this!"

Leonardo only answers by sobbing into his shoulder and Leo deflates. He doesn’t really want to think about this any more than he has to, it makes his brain hurt and he’s very partial to not getting any more headaches than necessary. Insomnia and five cups of tea per night don’t mix that well but everyone’s allowed to have their vices, yeah? Anyway. He kind of gets the affection, and the emotions, and… yeah so what if he’s also crying a little bit? This wreck of a man is literally holding his own self as a kid, who by all accounts wasn’t able to live as long as Leo has, and the thought is so sudden and unexpected that it feels nearly crushing.

Leo thinks this is the first time he’s actually realising how heavy the weight of his brothers’ and his own mortality is. He could have been this man, he is this man, in a future that no longer exists but was very, very real. He could have been the one to lose his brothers.

It all turned out alright in the end with the Shredder, but how many times did they only barely avoid death?

How many times did Leo choose cool tricks and bravado over communicating his game plan to the team? How many times could he have made a mistake because he was too busy thinking he’s the GOAT?

Why did the big oaf have to make him talk about this and kick him into this spiral of self-reflection? Totes not cool. He might have not been the leader back then but he realises now why Splinter made him take up the mantle afterwards.

All he ever wanted is to be trusted by his family, and here’s that trust, offered to him on a silver platter, and all he’s been doing with it is… nothing.

Now he really has a headache but he feels something shift inside him. Held by the man who he could’ve been, seeing first-hand what a true error in judgement could bring, he sinks into the embrace. He hides his face in the fabric of Leonardo’s hoodie, snot and tears be damned, and holds on. Leonardo pulls him closer, still silently crying, but Leo understands him better now.

Leonardo took responsibility, he built a whole resistance on the ruins of his life, kept hundreds of people alive for decades. He had his family, until there only were three, and still kept moving forward.

Leo understands him better now, and he’s starting to understand himself better, too.

He moves away a little to tilt his head to the side and still clings on.

“D’you think dad would agree to me n’ Raph leading together?”

Leonardo startles at the question, but then sniffles and smiles.

“I think he’ll like that idea.”

Chapter Text

"Ya okay, big man?" 

Leonardo grunts and pulls his blanket over his head. There's a sigh and a waft of Raph's worry stink graces the slider's nostrils. 

"Just, you didn’t come to breakfast. Or lunch. Just checkin' up on ya." 

A pang of guilt makes Leonardo curl up further. Mikey must be disappointed, he was so excited about the recipe he had told them he was going to try today, and here Leonardo is, hiding in his blankets, unable to even apologise. It should be easy, to just open your mouth and speak, but he can't. He hates it when he gets like this, Michelangelo and Casey are kind of used to it but their younger family… No doubt they’ve already been told what’s going on with him, but considering that Raph still came to his room it wasn’t enough. 

There’s a vice around Leonardo’s chest, tightening with every breath he takes. His right arm aches, the hollow pain reminding him of a limb that’s rotting somewhere in the future they abandoned.  

It was easier, at the end of the world. He had no choice but to get up and perform his duty, morning after morning, day after day, night after night, only allowed to crumble in the short reprieves between missions. He and Raphael had thousands of people to take care of. They did their best. Then just hundreds. Then it was just him. He did his best. 

He did his best, and on the days he didn’t want to get up at all, he still did. On the days when words felt like bile and ash on his tongue, he still spoke. On the days his stomach was so full of knots even the thought of food could make him retch, he still ate. He had no other choice but to do his best, and to do his best, he needed to keep his body going. He owed it to dad, to Raphael, to Donatello, to the whole of the resistance, to the lost and the ones still there. 

It’s no longer the end of the world and he no longer has those reasons to keep his body going. He no longer needs to do his best to keep everyone alive – he can just be, rest, and heal his heart. Easier said than done, obviously. He feels like it’s cruelly ironic how it’s simultaneously a relief and a completely new kind of burden. 

He has a family here! He has his dads again, his sister, his brothers. He has Michelangelo, he has Casey. He should still be doing his best for them. 

Just, he’s so tired. He’s so tired and he can’t and he feels horrible about it and he realises he’s slowly but surely spiralling, his shoulders shaking with all the unsaid things, all the unfelt emotions tucked away somewhere deep, all the unconsidered wounds left to fester. 

His arm hurts.  

He needs to get up, go to Donnie, wear the old prosthetic. That usually helps when the ache gets this bad, but he can't make himself move. The thought of wearing it still stresses him out and he isn’t even certain it'd help this time. 

Suddenly loud, clanking footsteps can be heard from outside, getting closer and the noise of someone barging into the train car startles him. Raph yelps (he's still here?) and Leonardo peeks out from under his blankets. 

Shelldon 3.0 is standing proudly in the middle of his room, in his mech upgrade form, holding out an actual scroll.  

"Okie dokie! Ahem. Hear ye, hear ye," the drone-turned-mech starts, "I have the pleasure of announcing The Grand Reveal of the Latest Innovation in the Genius Built family, taking place in The Lab this very eve at six o’clock sharp! Feel free to compliment The Second Latest Creation upon your arrival as well,” and Shelldon does a little spin, showing off his shiny new metal plating, glittering purple paint and black racing stripes adorning his back and the top of his head. 

“Participation is Mandatory. Fare thee well, dudes!” 

Shelldon bows and leaves as abruptly as he had arrived. Raph and Leonardo stare after him in silence until the snapper clears his throat. 

“Well uh, that happened.” 

He glances at Leonardo, looking somewhat sheepish. 

“Ya think you’re well enough to attend whatever Donnie’s planned?” 

Leonardo sighs and feels himself cracking a small smile. 

“I’d better be,” he croaks out, surprised that his mouth actually obeyed him, and the relieved grin on Raph’s face makes him feel lighter. 

Yeah, he can get out of bed by six. If he can manage earlier than that, he’s got some leftovers to take care of. 

–

It’s half past five when Leonardo finally makes his way to the empty kitchen, wrapped in his blanket. He heads straight for the fridge and discovers a huge pot of soup – what kind, he isn’t sure, but his stomach makes its neglect known with a long groan that borders on painful and it hardly matters. 

As he gets ready to heft the whole thing onto the counter without dropping his blanket, someone clears their throat behind him. 

“Ahem,” a familiar voice says, and Leonardo grimaces before turning around. 

“Hey there, Mikey,” he mumbles, attempting a disarming smile. Oddly enough, it seems to work, as the box turtle takes a long look at his face and his sour expression fades into one of defeat. 

“Gee, and here I thought I could be mad at ya for not eating with us,” he laments and shuffles around the slider to grab the pot himself. It’s definitely easier with two hands and Leonardo appreciates the help. 

“I’m–” now he has to clear his throat, “I’m still sorry.” 

Mikey sighs. 

“Don’t be, ya big doofus. I’m just happy you’re here now. And well, it’s soup, so it’s just gonna get better in the fridge!”

“What kind of soup?” 

“Just cabbage. And some secret ingredients I found out about,” Mikey winks as he opens the lid. “But don’t think I’ll tell you what those are! I know you can cook.”  

Leonardo is both amused and surprised at the same time. 

“How do you– ah. Michelangelo told you.” 

“Obvi! I’m his favourite brother, after all!” 

Leonardo grins. 

“Oh, you wound me. I thought I was his favourite brother.” 

“Yea. Was. That spot’s all mine now. Too bad, so sad! You should’ve taken up arts and crafts when you had the chance!” 

“Fair,” Leonardo chuckles and takes out a bowl and a spoon, the lighthearted banter making him feel better. Not to mention Mikey's presence alone – the box turtle in his core is warmth and love, and those things are a constant no matter which Mikey he spends time with. 

The said turtle pours him a hefty helping of soup and Leonardo thanks him, putting it in the microwave. It doesn't take long for a delicious scent to start wafting out and his stomach grumbles. Loudly. 

"Gosh," Mikey laughs, and Leonardo can't help but chuckle along with him. The box turtle leans against his blanket-covered side and Leonardo presses back, soaking up the warmth now that he can bear to be touched again. 

They wait for the soup in comfortable silence, and Leonardo thinks about just how much he loves his brothers. 

–

“Goooood evening, brethren! It brings me great joy to see you here in such numbers – no doubt you cannot wait to see what my genius mind has in store this time! Well, you shall await no longer!” Donnie grins and without wasting any time, steps next to the table in the middle of his lab and pulls off the tarp that was clearly hiding something underneath. 

A chorus of oohs and aahs breaks out as everyone registers what it is that they’re seeing. Leonardo stays silent, however, just staring at the revealed piece of technology. 

It’s an artificial arm. A prosthetic, to be more precise, very clearly meant for Leonardo – the size is perfect for him but what gives it away are the yellow stripes adorning the warm-toned metal. It’s shiny, it’s sleek and cool, it’s everything Leonardo’s previous arm wasn’t, complete with a big Genius Built logo right on top where the deltoid would be if it was a real flesh and bone arm. 

It’s beautiful, and Leonardo can’t look away. He feels Donnie’s eyes on him, feels the pride that radiates from the softshell at his apparent assessment of “he’s completely in awe” (which would be correct) as he starts to go over the arm’s functions. 

“So! As you can see, it is in fact a new prosthetic arm for our big blue brother from the future. I took great care at studying the piece he arrived here with and, no offense to the future genius that is me, improved it in all the ways that matter. It is lightweight but not lightweight enough to be unbalanced, nearly indestructible, and in addition to functioning just like a real limb – with pressure sensors to provide feedback to the brain – it has a modest array of extra features.”

Donnie pauses for dramatic effect. No one speaks up, and he continues, visibly pleased. 

"My engineering prowess ensured that I could fit it with different user modes. There are three: nonlethal, semi-lethal and lethal – and I am working on a fourth one. An extremely lethal upgrade!" he declares proudly. Leonardo sees Raph facepalming at “extremely lethal” from the corner of his eye but the softshell drones on. "The safety switches are located here, here and here but it has a voice-activated complete override for dire situations. You do however need to push a button for that one, as well," he sends a pointed glare in Leo's direction, who shrugs with a cherubic smile.

"Hey, we don't want any accidents, m'kay?"

"That's how little you trust me?" Leonardo asks, raising a brow ridge. As soon as he says that, however, he realises that things could go pear-shaped very quickly if Leo decides to antagonise Donnie instead.

"Yeah, actually," the smaller slider says and Leonardo barely keeps from sighing in relief, "you're old, old man. Gotta make sure you don't accidentally blow us all to smithereens if your arthritis acts up."

"I don't have arthritis!"

Leo deadpans. He slowly looks at Leonardo, then at the wrist brace Leonardo is wearing on his left hand, then back at Leonardo and yeah, okay, while it's just a localised strain injury from suddenly going one-handed, Leo might have an actual point. Leonardo can't help but feel proud.  

“Segway,” Donnie sighs and waves his hand in Leo’s direction. “By the judgment of our beloved leader, the lethal mode only consists of a tactical knife.” 

He doesn’t get farther than that in his explanation as Raph's chair screeches when he suddenly gets up, pointing a finger at the softshell. 

"A knife?!"  

"Yes, my dear Raphaela, a knife," Donnie grins toothily and taps the casing with an entirely unnecessary but delightfully theatrical flick of his wrist. 

"He don't need no knife! What if someone gets hurt?!" 

Donnie scoffs. 

"Scoff. That is precisely what the safety switches are for. Also, do I really have to remind you that we regularly run around with an airhead armed with two actual Japanese katana?" 

Leo's offended exclamation gets ignored by all of them. First a beloved leader, sarcastic or not, and then an airhead. Boy just can’t catch a break, it seems. 

"Yeah but–" Raph then glances at Leonardo, the slider looks back, and the confusion on the snapper's face is visible for a split second before he sits back down and rubs his face. 

"Fine, okay. Fine. I trust ya." 

Leonardo stares at him, feeling like he should be offended but he isn't. He really isn't. How could he be, after such a display of confirming that Raph really thinks of him as his brother? Granted, it’s a little funny, what with Leonardo being twice his age, but still. Raph cares about his family, and he doesn’t want anyone going and getting hurt – he could use feeling less responsible and just have more trust in Leo, though, but that should improve in time when the kids get used to their co-leadership. It’s a fresh new thing for them and knowing Raph (knowing Raphael) it won’t be easy for the snapper to loosen his hold on the responsibilities he’s carried alone for years. 

“Great! Now, without further ado – Leonardo, if you would please?” Donnie gestures to the empty chair in front of the table, not even trying to hide his impatience. 

Leonardo startles, suddenly very aware of all the eyes on him, and he clears his throat. 

“Sure,” he says, smiling nervously and getting up. He sheds his blanket and hoodie, thankful that the lair isn’t that drafty, but before he can take a step forward there’s a hand on his, squeezing his fingers softly. He looks down and sees Casey smiling wide at him. 

“I’m calling dibs on the first hug!” the boy grins, and Michelangelo next to him gasps. 

“No fair! I wanted dibs on that!” 

“Too slow,” Casey sticks out his tongue at him, and the box turtle grumbles. 

“Fine. Ugh. Well, at least I’ll get my scarf back.” 

Casey grabs Leonardo’s hoodie and hands it over to his uncle, nodding serenely. “It’s a very respectable consolation prize.” 

Sighing, Michelangelo starts to work on untying the orange piece of cloth, muttering to himself how it’s all wrinkly and misshapen and will probably need so many washes before it’s usable to him again as Leonardo ruffles Casey’s hair. 

“Looking forward to the hug, kiddo,” he smiles, finding his nerves significantly reduced. God, his kid is the best. Donnie clears his throat. 

“Leonardo.” 

“Yes, yes,” the slider huffs with a laugh and takes his seat before the audience. He’s getting excited now, himself, and can feel the same excitement pouring out in waves from his little purple brother – the feeling emphasised by the violet warmth he feels in his chest. Donatello is keeping an eye on them, obviously keen on witnessing the fruits of his past self’s labour, and Leonardo is happy that he’s here too. 

“Now, the initial connection might smart a little, but it shouldn’t be anything too bad. It has been a while since your nerves have been connected to a prosthetic so don’t try to move the arm right away.” 

Donnie carefully cleans the inside of Leonardo’s port, then the arm’s, and then lifts the new limb with the assistance of his battle shell’s robotic claws. Leonardo braces for the pain but as the ports connect, he nearly bites his tongue. It burns, but it’s over in a flash and he feels no more pain as the softshell adjusts the fit and then snaps the three clasps securing the arm closed. 

Leonardo looks down at his shoulder and lets himself marvel at how seamlessly the new arm slots in with the much older port. It feels firm and good and his balance isn’t affected as much as he expected when Donnie lowers it to hang freely by his side. 

“Oh, I have outdone myself,” Donnie sighs as he steps away and admires the fit. “I truly am the genius of this family. Now, let’s start slow; try to move your pinky.” 

Leonardo does, and the finger twitches. He barely remembers to breathe. 

“Great! Again.” 

Leonardo repeats the action and it actually moves. Mikey whoops, Michelangelo joining him, and soon their whole family is chattering excitedly between each other. Leonardo’s attention is only on Donnie, though. The softshell looks pleased as a bunch and the joy he feels for that sight is only almost rivalled by the elation of having two hands again. 

“Forefinger.” 

“Thumb.” 

“Pinky again.” 

“Thumb again.”

He repeats the movements a few more times as Donnie instructs him, archiving every result into his bracer as they go, growing giddier and giddier with each success.

“Make a fist.” 

Leonardo makes a fist, and he can’t believe how easily the digits move and obey him. 

“Touch the pads of your fingers to the thumb, one at a time.” 

That one is a success, again, and the softshell whistles. 

“Galileo I’m good!” he laughs, and Leonardo looks at him fondly. Donnie types in a few more things and then grins widely at the slider. 

“Alrighty! You can move the arm freely, now. Let’s see what the movement really looks like.” 

Leonardo does that. Effortlessly. He moves it around as if stretching it – it moves beautifully, the range of motion smooth and natural. He lifts the arm to his front, palm up, moving his left one next to it to see them together. Their dimensions are identical. Odd, since Leonardo is certain that Donnie never took more than the approximate measurements of his left arm… He smiles. Ah, classic Donnie. 

Leonardo has to admit that he isn’t that hard to catch sleeping, especially during the day. Fortunately taking measurements of a limb isn’t nearly as invasive as, say, installing subcutaneous trackers, and having gotten used to wartime Donatello’s own special brand of ethics anyway, this realisation is merely amusing to the slider. 

“Excellent! I’ll activate the pressure sensors now,” Donnie says, swipes across the screen of his bracer and taps on an icon. “Do the pinch test again… now.” 

Leonardo presses the pad of his forefinger to the pad of his thumb and almost gasps. He can feel it, feel the pressure. Now that he’s paying attention to the digits, he notices that the underside is made of a different material than the rest of the limb and there’s a slight give under the fingertips. He does it again, and again. And again. 

It’s mindblowing, and he lifts his gaze to look at the beaming softshell. He opens his mouth to speak but the only sound he can manage is a short, huffed-out laugh. 

“Speechless, hm? Fantastic,” Donnie cackles, and Leonardo feels his chest filling and filling with warm pride. His own, and his twin’s. He can’t fight the sting of tears in the corners of his eyes but he really doesn’t want to. 

“Now, the pressure can be turned off but I would rather not do that. It’ll help you be more mindful of the limb and not accidentally wreck it by trying to punch a wall or something.” 

Leonardo chuckles, voice slightly thick. 

“Noted,” he grins. “Donnie… thank you. You’ve truly made something incredible.” 

The softshell preens, excitedly shimmying his shoulders. 

“You are very welcome! Of course, we should–” 

“Dee! When’s the test drive?!” Mikey disrupts his brother from the – surprisingly well-behaved, this far – peanut gallery. Donnie sighs. 

“Can we call it a test drive, though? It’s an arm, there ain’t any wheels,” Raph joins in, scratching his chin thoughtfully. 

“Ohhh, right,” Mikey agrees. “What do we call it then? Test uh. Test grab? Sounds dumb.” 

“Test drive is fiiine,” Leo drawls, hopping up from his chair to join Donnie and Leonardo in the front. He raps his knuckles against Leonardo’s new arm. 

“Ooh, solid,” he whistles and then turns to his twin. “So? Any ideas yet?” 

Scowling but looking less vexed than expected, Donnie clears his throat. 

“Why yes, I do. Obviously the most useful place for data collecting, and therefore the best choice is,” here his scowl morphs into a worryingly devious smirk, “the Battle Nexus.” 

Chapter Text

The lair goes quiet. Even the ever-present hum of the lab’s machinery seems to pause. 

Leonardo pales.

“Donatello. Donnie. My genius brother whom I love very dearly. Donnie.”  Leo steps in front of the softshell, takes a deep breath and puts his hands firmly on his brother’s shoulders. 

“You CAN’T take a war veteran to the goddamned BATTLE NEXUS.”  

Donnie stares at first but then he rolls his eyes and taps the screen on his bracer to dim it, sighing. 

“Sigh. I did not mean the arena, you dum-dum. Big Mama owes us; therefore, she can lend us one of her champions who won’t mind if something explodes into their face.” 

Leonardo stirs, relaxing now that Donnie didn’t actually mean for him to fight in front of a massive yokai audience. He’s still apprehensive about the thought of fighting at all but he’s painfully aware of being too soft for his own good, and he knows he will never be able to refuse Donnie his data. However– 

“I mind if something explodes in my face, though.” 

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Donnie glances at him, shrugging and swatting Leo’s arm with the back of his hand to get him to take his hands off of him. Leo stands back, crossing his arms over his chest, looking thoughtful. 

“That’s loads better but let’s shelf that thought for now, ‘kay? I don’t think grandpa here is even relatively ready for a match, no matter how easy. Full offence.” Leo grins wide at Leonardo and the older slider shakes his head, an amused smile tugging at a corner of his mouth. 

“As much as I’d like to disagree, Leo is right. I’m sorry, Donnie, but maybe we can do that later? When I’m… uh, better?” 

Donnie doesn’t look that disappointed so he must have expected at least some pushback, so all in all, it’s still working in his favour even if he has to wait for a while to get his precious data. 

“That is acceptable. I do expect you to keep a journal on the arm’s performance anyway – daily perceptions are just as important as the in-action ones.” 

“A journal? Sucks to be you, old man,” Leo snickers. “Good luck with that! Anyway, Donnie, are we done here? Can I go finish beating up Mikey in Stepmania?” 

“You weren’t even close to beating me!” 

“Shhh, denial isn’t a good look on you, hermano,” Leo tuts and receives a kick in the shin from the box turtle. 

Donnie smirks at Leo’s yelp of pain and spreads his arms wide. “Yes, you can go. The show’s over, folks! The prosthetic’s battle qualities shall be tested at a later date.” 

Everyone claps, Leonardo included. The feeling in his artificial digits is incredible – the palm seems to have the sensors as well, just not as sensitive – and he can’t wait to start using his ambidextrousness to his advantage again. 

Like giving bear hugs to his family. 

He looks at Casey, waits until the kid notices, then grins and stands up. 

“The first hug, as promised,” he chuckles, opening his arms. Casey laughs and practically launches up to him, Leonardo catching him mid-jump with ease, squashing him against his plastron and spinning him around. Casey’s laughter is bubbly and delighted and infectious; Leonardo laughs, too, and he can hear Michelangelo doing the same. 

“Don’t take too long, I’m gonna be next!” the box turtle reminds him, sounding so fond that one could think his earlier grumpiness was merely just an act. 

Leonardo slows down and stops before he gets lightheaded and then just holds Casey, smiling into his hair. The boy has his arms wrapped securely around his neck but Leonardo squeezes him tighter, as if to make sure he won’t fall, relishing in the feeling of getting to hold his kid like this. It fills his chest with a warmth that makes him feel whole, and isn’t that odd? He’s hugged Casey plenty of times – with the old prosthetic and just one arm – and he has no clue what makes it feel so different this time. It can’t all be thanks to the pressure sensors, even though they’re really helping him keep his grip balanced. 

He decides not to think about it too much and just enjoy the embrace. 

Meanwhile, Leo has absconded with Mikey in tow and Donnie is about to usher the rest of his family out when Raph speaks up. 

“It’s a real cool arm you made, Donnie,” Raph says and stands up, putting a hand on Donnie’s shoulder. “I’m proud of ya.” 

“Yes, well done, Purple!” Splinter joins in, scrambling down from his chair. “Now I can finally ask him to rearrange the TV room without feeling too bad about it, haha!” 

Donnie seems speechless, and Michelangelo notices. Granted, it wasn’t easy to pry his eyes off his big brother and nephew – they look happy, Leonardo looks so happy – but he feels like he ought to thank his purple brother as well. He stuffs the orange scarf that used to keep Leonardo’s empty sleeve snugly tied up into his pocket and leaves the hoodie on the back of his chair. 

“Dee!” he smiles and waltzes up to the softshell. Donnie turns to look at him and Michelangelo thinks he can see the stars in his eyes from the praise he’s just received. Not asking for permission, he swoops in to hug the smaller turtle, squeezing him before letting go, grinning all the while. 

“Thank you so much, Donnie. You’ve no idea what this means to him, to us,” he says, eyes shining. “A new arm will help him in more ways than just one and for you to go the extra mile with all the different functions? He owes you, big time!” 

Donnie clears his throat and despite the slight flush on his cheeks, he proudly lifts his chin. 

“Well, obviously! I could not very well call myself a genius if I didn’t use all the information and technology available to me. One-upping my future self was of course one of the motivations, as well.” 

Michelangelo snorts. He can feel Donatello’s amusement mingling with his own, along with a dash of regret – had their resources not been dwindling, they would have never needed to resort to stripping Raphael’s mech for parts. Donnie doesn’t need to know that, however. 

“You did a great job on that, too,” Michelangelo assures him. “You two should have a showdown sometime! Who would win, Donatello the Warring Warrior Scientist, or Donatello the Teenage Genius Extraordinaire?” 

Donnie’s eyes go as wide as dinner plates. 

“Ohmigosh. I would love that.”  

“I knew you would,” the box turtle chuckles and he can feel Donatello’s spirit almost manifesting on the spot, eager for the challenge. Michelangelo has to reel him back, reminding him of the huge undertaking Donnie has just finished. Let the boy rest, first. Donatello acquiesces but his energy is still vibrating, rippling inside Michelangelo’s chest, and he knows his big brother is doing his hardest not to talk his ear off about all the plans he no doubt is already cooking up. 

Michelangelo just hopes this wasn’t a bad idea and they’d get through it without anything exploding. Still, he smiles. Nothing’s better than happy brothers and he has another great idea to make them, especially the teenage ones, even happier. 

“But let’s think about it later, alright? You’ve been shut in your lab for too long, we gotta have a movie marathon! Tonight!!” 

Raph laughs. “Good idea, Mikes. Y’all can take care of the snacks! Donnie, let’s go see if the two knuckleheads have settled their score yet.” 

Donnie grins and climbs on Raph’s shoulders. “Onward then, dear brother! I wish to see the obliteration of my insufferable twin, or obliterate him myself.” 

Raph snickers. “Mikey gave himself an unfair advantage with that kick earlier, ya might not get the chance.” 

“It is just as well. As long as Leo goes down,” Donnie deadpans as Raph starts walking towards the lab entrance. Michelangelo watches as they leave, fondness swelling in his chest. 

He turns to look back just in time to see Leonardo easing Casey down from his arms. The warm fondness swells even further, and Michelangelo thinks he could cry from how happy he is. 

“Took you long enough!” he laughs and closes the distance between himself and his big brother with steps that feel light as air. He stops right in front of Leonardo, throwing his hands straight up and grinning from ear to ear. 

“I demand uppies!”

Leonardo stares, but only for a second and a half, and bursts into laughter. 

Chapter Text

"That's a cool arm."

"Yeah."

"Wish I'd made it."

Leonardo lifts his gaze and gives his twin a long stare.

"You did make it."

Donatello scoffs. "It's not really the same thing when you're so far removed from Before that the style you would go for has become something completely… different."

"You know everything you made had to be either functional or sleek and stylish, can't really have everything in the middle of an apocalypse. You do know that, right? And you choosing functionality over style definitely saved more asses than I could ever even begin to count. It saved my ass a billion times and thanks to you, I'm here in the past now, still alive – apparently just so that you can gripe at me for being jealous of your own damn teenage self." 

Donatello looks aghast. “I’m not jealous!” 

Leonardo doesn’t even grace him with an answer and turns back to his task at hand, which is finally taking care of his odachi. It’s actually a real real sword, made by an actual blacksmith and not with mystic power, and Leonardo feels a little ashamed. He hadn’t touched the sword after they came back from getting the key from the Foot and it shows, dirt and blood stuck in the blade and the hilt. 

The hilt.  

“...you seem awfully snappy.” 

The slider doesn’t answer, stuck staring at the intertwining masks on the handle, dirty and tattered and important.  

His chest feels tight, even with Donatello’s unwavering presence so close. 

The spirit shifts his weight on his feet and crosses his arms over his chest, huffing. 

"Will you finally get rid of those?"

Leonardo flinches and clears his throat. "No, why would I..."

"You need to let us go."

Leonardo’s expression turns pained.

"But you're here."

Donatello sighs. "See, that's the problem. I don’t think you fully believe that. Something is still making you hold onto the thought that we're gone when we so clearly are not."

"...and you think it's the masks."

"Precisely."

Leonardo pulls the hilt of his sword toward himself, gently running his fingers along the two pieces of fabric weaved on it. He falls silent, thinking.

"No," he finally says, lifting his head to look at the spirit still looming next to him.

"I just need to find a better… place… for them." 

“You do know I would not wear that old ragged thing even if I was somehow brought into a live body again? I guess Raphala would keep his, but not for himself. He would only do it for you.” 

The slider frowns, growing irritated at Donatello’s bluntness, but stays silent and starts untying the masks from the hilt. He knows his brothers wouldn’t wear the masks again, especially as spirits, but they could do whatever they wanted with them. As long as… as long as they wouldn’t be in his possession anymore. The thought of throwing them away makes something dark and heavy grow under his lungs and his hands falter. He curls his fingers into fists and wonders why Donatello is still not leaving. 

“Why are you still here? Don’t you have hot ghost shit to do?” 

The air between them stills and grows cold before Donatello answers. 

“I’m not leaving you when you’re like this.” 

“And why am I like this? Your insistence on making me upset sure helped!” 

“‘Nardo.” 

“‘Tello,” Leonardo mocks before glancing up and sucking in a sharp breath in surprise when he sees his twin’s face hovering centimetres away from his. The softshell is bent at the waist, hands on hips, leaning down and staring at him with a harsh scowl. 

“You really are asking for another slap in the face, are you not.” 

Leonardo leans backwards and looks away. 

“You can hit me as many times as you like.” 

Anger flashes across Donatello’s features before his expression crumbles, not that Leonardo sees it, and he sighs aloud. 

“Sigh. Scoot over.” 

Leonardo sets his sword down, pulls his legs on the bed and flops down to lay on his side. He shuts his eyes, holding his knees against his chest like a petulant child. Donatello follows, settling on his back and folding his hands on his stomach. They’re not touching but Leonardo can feel his brother’s energy and how it seems to seep into his skin. 

It’s comforting to the point that Leonardo thinks he might cry. It’s infuriating. He’s supposed to be upset with Donatello. 

They don’t speak for a long minute and Leonardo starts feeling drowsy. His twin breaks the silence. 

“You haven’t been sleeping again.” It sounds like an accusation. 

“I have... tried,” Leonardo mutters, “I just can’t seem to get any rest.” 

“The phantom pains should not be as big of a problem now that you have the new arm, but if they persist, you should talk to Draxum. Yokai remedies are plentiful in this world. In case you forgot.” 

“Sure.” God, Leonardo is tired. Deciding that his superficially hurt feelings aren’t worth holding onto, he unwraps his arms around his knees to straighten his legs so he can hold onto Donatello instead. 

“What are you doing.” 

“Mhm. What do you think I’m doing?” 

“Being unnecessarily clingy.” 

“Sure,” Leonardo hums and tucks his head into the crook of Donatello’s neck. Holding onto pure ninpo like this still feels funny, it’s solid but not really, and it fills him with inexorable warmth. It’s family, it’s belonging, it’s you’re not alone. Leonardo presses the side of his face against the sheets and maybe, just maybe, Donatello won’t know of his tears. 

—

—

“Aww. I’m taking pics.” 

“Don’t you dare!” Donatello hisses, trying to keep quiet, and his threat apparently goes to deaf ears as his youngest brother already has his phone in hand. 

“Just get over here so I can leave!” 

“You could’ve left any time,” Michelangelo shrugs, thumbing through the photos he just got. They’re adorable. Leonardo, sleeping like a baby, holding his twin hostage in his arms. Donatello’s expression could use some photoshopping, though. Maybe he’ll ask if April can help. 

“No,” the softshell grumbles, “it will not go well if he wakes up alone.” 

Michelangelo sighs and puts his phone away, walking to the bed. 

“I don’t know, Dee. What if he wakes up with me and panics and thinks he dreamed you up?” 

“It is infinitely better than the alternative. You can just calmly explain that we switched places; he knows that I can’t stay here indefinitely.” 

“Mmm. Right. Okie dokie, up you go then,” the box turtle chirps and gently lifts Leonardo’s arm with both hands. Donatello glances at his twin, who’s still fast asleep, and sighs. 

“Fare thee well, space cowboy,” he tells Michelangelo, salutes him and vanishes in a flurry of soft blinking lights. Leonardo doesn’t even stir. 

“Wowie, you really haven’t been sleepin’ that good,” Michelangelo mutters as he maneuvres himself in between his brother’s arms. Good thing he already prepared for bed so it doesn’t matter if he stays here the whole night, but judging from Leonardo’s breath he didn’t even brush his teeth. Ew, but whatever. The sewers smell way worse. 

And… Leonardo is warm. It’s cosy, cuddled up to him like this, and Michelangelo uses just a tiny bit of his mystic power to pull a blanket over them both. 

It’s fine, he’s fine, Draxum will never know. 

—

Turns out Draxum would know. 

“What did I tell you about using your ninpo? To not to use it!”

Michelangelo deflates. 

“It was just a little bit! I was feeling good, Leonardo was right there, I didn’t think it’d be a big deal!” 

Draxum groans, lets go of Michelangelo's hand and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“It is a big deal. You’re still recovering and while dispensing that power in small amounts will no longer cause such adverse effects you have previously suffered, it can and will slow down your healing. I have not spent my time and precious resources just so you can take it for granted.” 

“I– I'm sorry. I'm not taking any of this for granted, I promise,” Michelangelo hurries to placate him. He does feel bad, genuinely, and somehow it seems to get through to Draxum. The yokai sighs and walks to his cupboard where he keeps some of his poultices, taking out a few. 

“What reason did you even have for using it? I doubt you’ve been in any scuffles.” 

“Uhh. I moved a blanket.” 

Draxum turns his head to stare at him. 

Michelangelo feels the prickle of sweat running down the back of his neck. 

“You. Moved a blanket. You used your ninpo to move a blanket.” 

“I didn’t want to move, okay! Leo hasn't been sleeping well and I would’ve hated to disturb him!” 

Mentioning Leonardo seems to weirdly switch Draxum’s mood from exasperated to thoughtful. He hums, suddenly looking… not soft, exactly, but softer. He walks to his desk and rifles through a drawer, producing what looks like a light purple calling card. 

“Here,” he says, handing it to the turtle. “Tell Leonardo to call this person. They are one of the few practitioners in Hidden City whom I trust and I would recommend booking an appointment post haste.” 

Michelangelo takes the card, perplexed. He doesn’t recognise the person’s name but their title says enough. 

“A therapist?” 

Draxum nods. 

“Leonardo would greatly benefit from therapy or at least someone to talk with in order to process his trauma and help with his insomnia, but I am not qualified nor equipped to handle such topics. My area of expertise only consists of the physical. Matters of the mind, on the other hand… If you ever need support in that particular area, you should give them a call as well. Some things are better handled with an actual professional.”

Michelangelo pockets the card and beams at Draxum. He’s aware that his array of doctors isn’t equipped to get to the bottom of anyone’s issues – especially his own – like a trained and licenced therapist is. That, and he doesn’t blame the scientist for not yet knowing that Leonardo has always had his issues with sleep and it's not all to do with the war. 

He’s not going to rat the younger slider out to Draxum, though. 

“For sure! Thank you, Draxy. I can see your sweet side already!” 

The alchemist scoffs but the faint colour rising to his cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed. This version of Draxum might be younger – if that even matters with yokai, honestly – and lacking the character development of his future counterpart but he so very clearly cares for Michelangelo and his family. 

And Michelangelo cares for him. 

“Aaanyway,” he smiles, “what’s for today’s session? Same as last week? Or,” here, he knows to look a little bit guilty, “do we have to do something else because of my lil blunder?” 

Draxum considers him for a moment, then shakes his head and against all odds, breaks into a small smile. 

“No, that changes nothing. Just do not do it again until I give you the clear, alright?” 

Michelangelo nods with a grin almost as wide as his whole face. He really, really likes this softer side of his other dad.