Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Casey huffs, the beam currently balanced on his shoulder causing his feet to sink into the loose dirt. Sweat rolls down his back, a low ache building.

They’ve been at this for hours; Casey along with the turtles, hauling the last bits of the rubble surrounding the remnants of the Battle Nexus. (April was most regrettably in school).

His hands, blisters gone after months of work, have grown hard—calloused in a way entirely different from the apocalypse. He’s filled out, too. From regular meals and physical labor, to sparring with his brothers, and man, are they different from their future selves. Wily and quick, no holds barred—where Sensei and Master Michelangelo and even Uncle Tello were grounded and thoughtful in the ways they fought, the younger turtles are just. So. Unpredictable. Casey’s been punched in the face by a swarm of Jupiter Jim comic books, almost crushed in a giant purple mouse trap, chased by a small army of Raph-clones through the subways.

Safe to say, Casey’s stronger and faster and healthier than he’s ever been.

(happier?)

(are you happier?)

Casey shakes his head, as if to free himself from the dark thought.

He is happy—he is safe and alive and has a rowdy tornado of brothers and a sister to keep him busy, quite literally, all hours of the day. Casey loves Donnie and Raph and Mikey and April, and Leo the most of all.

(And if he feels like every day he forget a little more of what Sensei sounded like, that’s between him and him only. Maybe Leo, too, if Casey can bear to say it aloud.)

So many things, foreign, strange.

If he could only find his footing...

But Casey doesn’t mind. It’s actually kind of nice. To wake up in the morning, head down to the Hidden City through one of Leo’s stomach-turning portals, or if he’s lucky, through another one of the countless entrances to the home of the yokai. Through dumpsters and behind graffiti, under manholes and submerged in fountains. From there, they spend the better part of the morning clearing stones, debris, wreckage, bringing the salvageable parts to new construction projects or dumps. Raph’s massive, red limbs are the best—he can move so much crap, and sometimes he’ll let Casey ride on his shoulder for a fully body projection. Slowly, but surely, they’ve gotten most of it out of the way, if not almost all—that’s the reason for the massive push today, of all days.

They’re almost done.

The ground is hard, cracked, only a few weeds sprouting triumphantly. Donnie spends a lot of time cataloguing local flora and fauna that hopefully will return to this part of the Hidden City, even though the pictures he’s shown Casey look terrifying.

As a sign of respect, primarily to his father but also the other fallen champions, Leo has begun designing a monument along with Mikey. It's...mostly Mikey doing the brunt of the work. Leo, bless his heart, is not artistic.

They hope for a dazzling explosion of trees and flowers and plants of all kinds—a garden, lush and verdant, whose life represents the stubborn resistance to the culture of death in Big Mama’s business. It’ll be amazing, once Donnie figures out how to transport the plants (and to get along with the yokai farmers.)

Regardless of some of Donnie’s less...notable interactions, leagues of yokai jump to the chance to help his family, utilizing a multitude of mystic powers to assist. Bears and goats and herons and slime people all ready to begin the change for better. Transports and caravans, machinery that looks like it’ll collapse after one strong wind, large beasts and wacky pulley systems, have made the remains of the arena their own personal stomping ground, constantly hauling away debris for further transport.

The Hidden City is massive. Its underground caverns are endless—strange carvings in the wall depicting otherworldly faces, sky-machine floating lazily, sprawling forests belching green dust, towns and markets and miniature cities boasting arts and sciences and who knows what. The fact that they’ve been able to reshape even this huge plot of land is staggering. Casey sometimes worries—what Leo did was amazing no doubt, but when he faces the sheer size of the yokai’s lands, he wonders if the hustle and bustle will swallow up his brother’s good deed and continue on, a tireless machine.

(he wonders if leo thinks about it too.)

A piercing cry spears through the light-hearted atmosphere.

Leo halts, about twenty feet away from Casey, his gold eyes scanning the skies. His brothers halt their actions, taking defensive positions.

Relations between the Hamato’s and the yokai are usually warm and kind, Casey amends.

There have been…some problems.

Said some problems hurtle through the sky, on winged bikes and motorcycles, yokai dressed in dark leathers with a pink band around their left arms.

Casey is forced to let go of the wreckage he’s moving, as Leo sends him a On Your Guard You Punk look. He’s very familiar with these nuisances—they bring productivity into the negatives.

Last week, one of the gang members plucked him from the ground, like he was nothing better than a wildflower, and soared off, cackling and threatening to splatter him on the ground. Casey wasn’t really scared—these guys are mostly bozos, but dangling hundreds of feet in the air isn’t great. Anyone would agree.

It took only seconds for Donnie’s mystic guns to nail the sucker, for a blue portal, spinning and safe, to open and catch Casey.

Still, they’ve gotten bolder, especially in these last weeks.

Casey knows it weighs heavily on Leo—the slump of his shoulders and the exhausted tone he uses more often than not. Leo takes it personally, these upstarts and rebels, because he was the one who brought the Battle Nexus down, but everyone’s (their family and the decent yokai) made it more than clear that what he did was good and just. The Winged Terror—Casey hates their name—is not representative of the Hidden City.

They’re just really freaking loud.

“Hamato Leonardo is a fraud and he’s only leading you to ruin! You think someone that waltzes in and destroys a major way of our lives is benevolent? That you can trust him?”

It doesn’t matter that Leo’s spent almost every day of the last several months toiling away alongside the yokai, meeting families and playing with children, doing his fair share of work. He might have leveled a building, but geez, the guy stuck around at least.

"Do they ever take a break?" Leo mutters as he reaches Casey. He spins on a heel, shooting a plastic smile up at the gang. “We’ve been over this! I’m not trying to be some tyrannical ruler hell-bent on ruining your lives! I’m literally just picking up garbage!”

“Right,” a griffin yokai snarls back, throwing down a warped mystic object, immediately mirrored by several other members.

Leo cuts open a portal, effectively turning the dropped weapon back onto the Terrors themselves.

They all shriek as if being lit on fire. They weren't. It was another stink bomb.

“See!” one screams. “Hamato Leonardo is bad news! He will be the downfall of us all!”

He sighs.

Casey lived through the apocalypse. Staring at one gang member pulling at the roots of his feathery hair all in the name of unwanted Stank is severely depressing.

The yokai around him continue their work, well aware the fight is over before it’s even begun. Everyone knows that the Terrors have morphed into little more than a joke these days.

Donnie’s disgusted voice flutters through the comms. “This is embarrassing, even for them.”

"Agreed." A bright and sunny quality lights up Casey’s armband. Mikey.

Raph’s tiny form suddenly grows a towering red arm, gently herding the Terrors away-less of the glowing giant that fought the Krang and more of a tired preschool teacher.

A low buzzing sound signals Donnie’s presence, landing in a purple cloud as his jetpack powers back down. He nods to Casey with a grim smile and heads over to his twin, who continues to watch with crossed arms and a frustrated expression, mouth twisted.

They stand together, watching. Casey can't hear any words aside from the occasional chirp, the amused gleam one shoots the other's way.

Twins. Figures.

Even knowing Sensei and Uncle Tello, he’d always wondered what having a twin was like. Reading each other’s minds, knowing needs that haven't been expressed, shutting cabinet doors before the other one hits their head without looking, a limitless supply of inside jokes that no one was allowed in on, and always having one another's back.

Casey used to be jealous. It would have been great to have another Casey growing up, who could bear the enormous weight of being a child in the end of the world.

That was until he saw Sensei cope with a crippling, debilitating loss one horrifying day in the war. 

Until he saw what it looked like to rip two inseparable halves apart.

And Casey very quickly realized that his lack was not a curse.

He hefts a warped piece of metal over his shoulder, probably an old handrail, determined to drag it over to the junk caravan when something else happens.

One day.

It'd be nice to have just one day without interruptions.

Casey feels a distinct quaking, might and jarring enough to hollow out his ears. It’s all too similar the destruction of the arena; the crumbling stone, the roaring of the water, the teeth-rattling shaking.

A quick glance at Leo’s paling face suggests he’s thinking the same.

Leo adjusts his grips on his swords.

Gasps rise from the construction site as the yokai stare in horror at the horizon, pointing to where a cloud of smoke mushrooms in the distance, blurring the bright green atmosphere where it reaches out with swollen fingers for the ceilings of the cavern.

The Winged Terrors squawk and hover anxiously on their bikes.

Whatever just happened was huge. Casey might have a poor grasp of this place, but even he knows the Battle Nexus is miles away from any major part of the Hidden City.

“What was that?” he asks incredulously, a Bad Feeling raking light claws down his back.

“I dunno—but I’ll be right back. Stay here and watch the Terrors,” orders Leo, Leader voice out to play.

He grabs Donnie’s arm, something fierce passing through the twins, mirrored gold eyes flashing. Donnie nods, twirling his staff, shaking out his legs in preparation.

“Let’s go,” Leo says, jerking his head over to the portal he’s sliced open. The dragon stretching across his shell offers Casey little encouragement.

The two of them step through, leaving behind only a few blue sparks.

Casey turns back to the thin veneer of order held together by Mikey and Raph, both the yokai and the Terrors a teeming organism ready to panic if the leash slips even a little.

(aquamarine casts a net—looking for orange and red.)

guys—you okay?

(red sighs.)

i’m not paid enough for this.

(orange hums in agreement.)

defo not. but also-are we paid at all? are leo and don checking it out?

(offering an image of blue and purple disappearing, aquamarine nods.)

watch if any of the terrors react weirdly—leo wants to see if they’re connected.

(red and orange send back salutes.)

That young fox yokai, brave enough to speak up amongst a crowd—Juniper—bounds over to Casey, worry written across her face.

“Do you have any idea what that was?”

Casey shakes his head, grim.

“No, but Leo and Donnie went to check it out. I’d say Leo will inform you in a few minutes. Do you know where the explosion took place?”

Juniper narrows her eyes in concentration, scratching a pointed ear.

“It looked like it was near Witch Town," she says slowly. “But I don’t know any group stupid enough to target the witches, aside from your brother Donatello, of course.”

“He’s...got this thing with magic.” Casey shrugs, content to be left out of that standing disagreement between magic and science.

“From my guess, it was just outside of the city, close to the southeastern waters. All that’s out there are some abandoned buildings and real fringe characters,” a tall deer yokai supplies as he reaches the two of them.

“Interesting.” Casey makes a mental note. “Thanks man. I guess we’ll call it for today’s work then. I’d imagine the guys are going to want to investigate more.”

“That’s probably a good idea. I’ll go check in with the others—send Leo over when he gets back, okay?” She shoots him a quick smile.

“Got it, Juniper,” Casey calls as she scampers off.

The other yokai in charge gather under her lead, murmuring alongside one another as they discuss the safety threats and potential fallout of the combined attacks of both the Winged Terrors and the mystery explosion. Juniper signals around the old arena’s site, letting them know it’s time to pack up and regroup later.

You win today, trash, Casey thinks as he looks down at the debris he’d been hauling.

He feels a rush of air, hears two pairs of feet land on the dusty ground behind him.

Leo and Donnie.

“Nardo, that was an empyrean reservoir."

"So that's why it smelled so weird..."

"Beside the point-"

Leo makes a funny sound. "How'd you know that was an empyrean reservoir?"

His twin says nothing..

"..."

"Speak up, bitch."

"I said." Casey can hear the scowl in Donnie's voice. "Draxum showed me."

Leo groans. "Since when have you two been off doing illegal things?"

"You'd be surprised how many similarities there are between empyrean and uranium.”

"Oh my god."

Casey hides a smile.

"Look, Leon, all I know is that it used to be there and now it's gone. That's what the explosion was for. It looked like pretty rudimentary blasting agents which I wouldn't have been caught dead with-"

"Beside the point," Leo echoes Donnie from earlier, sounding like a proud toddler.

"Right. I think the question we should be asking now is: what else does the empyrean do, other than creating the yokai."

"Big Mama said that it's the source of yokai power that one time too," Leo adds. "So does that mean there's a souped-up yokai about to go ham on the city?"

A brief pause.

“No way,” they say, simultaneously.

One of them must shiver. Casey feels it crawl across his own neck.

“The Winged Terrors are imbeciles! They’d sooner off themselves on accident before they actually do harm anywhere else.”

Donnie snickers. “For sure. And besides, none of them seem smart enough to have figured out how to be in two places at once. Unless one of them can portal?"

"No way," Leo says vehemently. "I'd be able to tell. None of them can."

"Let's regroup at the lair." Donnie decides. "And you, sneaky brat." He tweaks Casey’s ear lightly, snout peeking just over his shoulder. "Keep this to yourself until then."

Casey swats at him. “I can't help that you landed right here, Tello. Try picking a more clandestine location to share high security clearance information,” he snarks back.

Leo watches him with a fond smile.

"How'd it go here?"

"Terrors seemed just as surprised."

“Hm. Good work.” Donnie's praise is brief but genuine before he heads over to inform Raph and Mikey.

"Any advice for me, kid?" Leo ruffles his hair.

“You got any advice for me, kid?” Leo reaches his side, hands on his hips.

"Wheels fall apart when we underestimate the enemy. I think we should be wary of them." Casey inclines his head toward the Terrors.

(There’s a lot more he could say, examples he could recount. Things weren’t always bad in the resistance, but mixing together bloodthirsty aliens, low resources, and poor planning had gotten more teams than not in serious trouble. It drove Sensei crazy—but what choice did they have, other than to bite off more than they could chew? It was the apocalypse. Desperation was their name.)

“Yeah?”

Casey looks over, allowing some of that war-torn grief rise to the surface.

How many wars has he fought in, now?

How many more?

Leo sees that and more.

He nudges Casey's side. i understand i will try to keep us from the same mistakes you’re safe here i’m glad you’re here.

All that comes out is: “Yeah.”

Attention drawn back by a wave of Raph’s re-formed projection, Leo winks at Casey and disappears in a flash of light, trying to sneak up on his older brother.

(aquamarine reaches down the bridge to blue.)

almost forgot—juniper asked if you’d fill her in once you got back.

Leo waves a tiny thumbs-up in the air from where he’s trying and failing to wrestle Raph.

Casey briefly wonders if his ninpo could act like some kind of x-ray bad guy vision. He’s about eighty percent sure that this isn’t one of the usages of the Hamato Clan’s ancestral power, but it doesn’t hurt to try.

As Leo begins shooing off the Winged Terrors with the help of a friendly looking purple bazooka looming over him, Casey sinks into the aquamarine—a begrudging surrender to the name after a valiant battle—sea thrumming beneath his skin, constantly nearby ever since that day in the Battle Nexus. There’s no reaching for it, no fumbling around in the dark—his ninpo is just there, and it’s not the first time he wonders if something can be too quick to be natural.

Like a shimmering film has been laid over his vision, armed with his ninpo, Casey easily finds boundless blue, spiking purple, cartwheeling orange, and thundering red. He smiles at how they glow brighter as they near one another, searing the landscape, a clear warning to any stupid enough to dare. They thread together and flow apart, one great organism made of family and love and trust, so unlike anything Casey ever saw in the apocalypse.

Not that Sensei, Uncle Tello, and Master Michelangelo weren’t family, but…without Raphael, things couldn’t be the same. They lost a part of themselves, that day long before Casey could remember. They lost a part of themselves, and emerged radically different from the turtles Casey now looks at—Master Michelangelo busying himself with the mystic arts, Uncle Tello unleashed in a feral way, Sensei never, ever, ever portalling again.

Casey can almost see the way Sensei would ask for a lift from Uncle Tello in this situation, hurtling up toward the Winged Terrors with a wild grin, one bone-white katana leveled straight at them, yelling some ridiculous battle-cry as they scatter in fear. Emphasis on almost.

(The sound of Sensei’s voice slips between his fingers, the manic sparkle in Uncle Tello’s eyes now watery, vague.)

(Casey has trouble remembering the sharper details, and wonders if he constantly thinks of them, they’ll be safe in his mind.)

(But it’s at the cost of constantly thinking of them, and the ache that will never dull.)

His temples throb. That is the first warning. He releases his ninpo, feeling the awkward jolt in his navel, blinding that awareness of the mystic realm.

At long last, Donnie’s bazooka, flaring bright as it readies to fire, convinces the Terrors to leave the area, and finally relieve them of one piece of chaos. 

“We’ll be back, turtle scum!”

One breaks from the pack and swings her bike into a final warning loop. “This is just the beginning,” the serpent yokai hisses, jade eyes harboring a dangerous glint. 

She earns a pause from almost all of them.

“What…?” Leo squints, flipping his katanas restlessly.

The serpent smiles, sharp and watchful, tinged with…

An ancient arrogance, some part of Casey supplies.

None of the other gang members seem to be aware in the same way; they continue their odd posturing and empty threats, yelling at uninterested yokai.

But that serpent yokai…odd.

Casey wants to pick his brothers brains later, and ask if she made any of their skin crawl, too.

Leo looks as though he's debating giving her a personal sendoff when she guns it, and the Winged Terrors streak off in a cackling storm of jeers and insults.

A heartbeat of defeat, shoulder-slumping, foot-dragging defeat simmers in his eyes. Knowing Leo, he probably blames himself for the irritating skirmishes.

A sparkling, charismatic grin replaces it like quicksilver, there for the yokai. Looking as if he’s never encountered a problem, as if he’s entirely unafraid of the slowly deteriorating situation at hand, Leo straightens and sheathes his blades in one graceful movement. 

Casey has to give him credit, the guy's a great actor. If he didn’t know exactly where to look, he never would have seen a sharp flicker of guilt as Leo heads over to Juniper and the others, gesturing to the skies and the arena’s remains as confidence limns his body, steady and engaged and unafraid.

Leo spends a couple extra seconds chatting with the kitsune as her fellow yokai break off into their respective crowds before Juniper flaps her paws at him with a chuckle, bushy tail flitting back and forth. His eyes are filled with an earnest worry as he insists one last thing, easily dodging the fox’s small, swatting hand.

"Fine, fine, June." Leo blows her an exaggerated kiss before half-turning to their brothers. “Let’s pack it up guys.” He winds a finger in a circle, stopping only as he notices Casey's expression. “What? I said we can help, but you saw—she literally shooed me away! Feel free to second guess her up close, Case.”

Though, they had been there since early this morning. The prospect of actually finishing the job brought a second wind around noon, but thanks to the Terrors and the pile of trash still surrounding them, it seems as though that second wind had been for nothing.

That doesn't stop Casey from primly saying, "Just making sure you aren't slipping.

Leo mutters under his breath.

"What was that?"

"I said, asshole."

They laugh at one another, good-naturedly. 

Mikey comes swooping from above, gold chains trailing gracefully like streaks of sunshine. True to form, there's paint smeared across his left cheek, and Casey cannot even begin to guess how the guy found the time to paint down here, but, as he's learned with many occasions, it's best not to ask.

Raph and Donnie join, engrossed in an argument about whether or not they should teach Buddy the Hibernator move.

“But Raph thinks it could really add a new layer to our sparring sessions!”

“Sigh. If only my big brother would remember that one time in the bandana factory when Buddy suddenly went into full berserker mode and grew fifty feet,” Donnie deadpans.

“…Raph acknowledges your point.”

Scrolling through his gauntlet's displays, Donnie asks, “Anybody need anything on our way out? My scanners say the refrigerator still looks decent, even with Papa at home all day, but one never knows."

True that, Casey thinks. Splinter can do some serious damage on their food stores, a kind of damage that no one in the apocalypse could even dream of.

Despite how uncomfortable it is to ask, Casey cannot stop imagining one dreamy fruit he'd tried recently. "Can we please get some more of those moon plums? They were maybe the best thing I've ever had, like, ever."

Mikey casts him a sidelong look.

"I mean, obviously after anything you make," Casey stammers, even as Mikey breaks into a grin.

"Uh, yeah big man!" His oldest brother shoots him a duh look, as if it would be strange not to head back to that market and buy more of that delicious, delicious fruit.

Atop Raph's shell, Leo waves his hands indignantly. “Um?? Hello?? What are moon plums and have we been going on exotic fruit tours without me again??”

Casey sniffs at him, sketching a mock bow. “Oh, mighty leader of the Mad Dogs, all-time Champion of the Battle Nexus, infamous pineapple-on-pizza lover, we simply were not sure if someone as honored and respected as you would stoop low enough to spend time with us commoners in the markets.”

Silence.

Mikey slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes betraying his amusement.

Leo’s gone completely still. “Now you’re gonna get it,” he mutters, eyes like gold fire.

Casey wastes no time running towards the smattering of stalls. He doesn't need to watch to know exactly what happens next.

Hysterical laughter bubbles up from his stomach, sweet orange soda coloring today in warm fizziness.

“While I can’t argue with how you got there, I must say, Junior—you brought this upon yourself.” Donnie scrolls on his phone as Casey sprints past.

He hears Leo launch himself off of Raph, battle-cry loud and fierce, footsteps pounding into the ground.

Casey runs harder, enchanted forests lining the remains of the arena blurring by, glowing mushrooms and curling trees looming overhead, soft trills of fairy laughter filling the pockets of his harsh breaths.

“I don’t take it back!” he giggles, giving way to full-bellied laughter that costs him a few strong steps.

Unable to help himself, Leo lets out a laugh. “You will!”

As his other brothers catch up, the five of them hoot and holler their way to the yokai markets, pushing and shoving their way in as a storm of arms and legs. It’s funny and stupid, and Casey almost gets a mouthful of a green elbow more than once, but they’re his family and even with the missing empyrean and the Winged Terrors and his struggles with ninpo, he still finds a reason to smile.

(happier?)

(are you happier?)

Yes, he thinks, grinning over at Leo as he teleports through the air, gaining speed.

(And if it kind of sounds like he’s lying to himself, that’s between him and him, only.)

~

“Head’s up!” Mikey shrieks, a second too late as he crashes down just inches away from Casey. Objects lined in bright, glowing orange fall like the world’s strangest hailstorm, hitting the sparring ring with a terrifying amount of force.

Is that a bust of Tello’s head? Casey startles as the stone piece thuds, bouncing against the training floor’s forgiving material. A serious expression complete with his classic eyebrows responds yes. of course i am a bust, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

This Tello is much different than the other one he knew—knows.

“And that might have been your best time yet!” Leo calls out like the world's premier sports announcer. The turtle’s hanging upside down on a swing several feet in the air, rocking back and forth to the faint music Donnie put on earlier.

Initially, Raph had shaken his head and sighed. "You're gonna get sick."

Leo stuck out his tongue and replied, "Ninjas do not know that word."

Casey rolled his eyes then and is currently still rolling them at the green blur now. Leo's probably, he squints, twenty seconds away from complaining about nausea.

“For uh, ...three? Three whopping minutes, my baby bro just made himself and a bunch of crap fly!” Leo tries and failing to orient himself enough to read the clock, muttering something under his breath about dizziness. Bingo.

"Calling it crap really helps, Leon." Mikey grumbles, slumping ever so slightly.

Leo flips off the swing, backtracking instantly. “No, no—Mike, it’s amazing! And you’ve never done any of this before. Three minutes is a long time to keep yourself and other things hovering in the air! That’s nuts." He rubs his knuckles into the head of a now giggling Mikey.

They’ve been practicing for a while, stretching long into the evening. And even though Casey has to stifle a yawn behind a gloved hand, he has to admit that it's been fun training with the turtles.

He sparred with Leo until they both had a new set of bruises, a red mark on the back of Casey's neck one from a katana, a new set of swear words leaving Leo's mouth after a hockey stick happened to collide with his shins. They grinned at one another like idiots after each time, Mikey groaning to himself.

And, as Casey led himself through a series of techniques with his hockey stick, a combination of Donnie's moves with his staff and the sense-memory of his old life, he was treated to a match between the two brothers, unleashing themselves in orange and blue blurs, no holds barred as they leapt and spun and kicked faster than light.

Casey would have joined in, but…that’s a different story.

Swigging from a bottle of water, he remembers Donnie announcing that he'd be looking into empyrean some more, as well as finding security footage of that serpent yokai.

("there's something off about her," leo notes on their way back to the lair.

his eyes gleam like hammered gold. his mouth twists in discomfort.

mikey twirls a glowing chain through the air, watching its flaring trail.  "then why don't we try and ask around for her? i'm sure someone knows who she is."

leo puffs out his cheeks, briefly considering. he's rattled. casey nudges his side, drawing him back.

"that'll just give her the spooks—dee, do you think you could try and hack into the hidden city...wait. do they have computers?"

"nardo. just because they live under new york doesn't mean they're barbarians. honestly." donnie scoffs, shaking his head back and forth.

"sweet." leo shoves a hand into his twin's snout. "let's start there. i can't even begin to think how the winged terrors and that explosion were connected."

raph hums, lost in thought. leo's been shooting occasional looks over at his big brother, willing to seek guidance.

"what if they were there to distract us from the empyrean theft?"

donnie shakes his head again. "aside from the inability of the terrors to remove themselves from the barely-a-nuisance category, they seemed as surprised as everyone else."

everyone gasps at the same time.

they all speak at once. "except for the snake lady.")

Whatever the situation, Casey's glad for a brief chunk of time where they can pretend like things are normal. Almost. Almost normal.

Leo whirls around beneath the dimmed lighting, beak scrunched with mirth as he wrestles his younger brother, giving Casey a glimpse at the beauty of Mikey's handiwork.

Starting at the tip of his scars from the prison dimension, a dragon’s snout reaches up towards Leo’s right shoulder, grinning a wicked set of fangs, gold eyes sharp as a knife's edge. Its long, slender body curves down, gracefully twisting around healed cracks, wings flung out across the apex of his shell, extending past the edges. They look gossamer-thin, the entire effect luminous and enthralling. The dragon’s tail, bejeweled with those same white horns, disappears beyond the lowest part of Leo’s carapace—Mikey had considered continuing the rest of the tail down his left leg, but Splinter stiffly suggested that was enough for then.

And of course, it’s blue.

Blue and blue and blue—a touch of green, like the sea (which makes Casey’s insides warm)—but to the end of the day, this brilliant, fearless dragon is blue to its bones.

Blue as the sunburned skies, blue as Mikey’s gaze, blue as the mystic portals Leo leaps into, careless and free. As if the embodiment of this dragon embodies a shift in him.

It's a little weird that the dragon's eyes follow you everywhere (even now, scouring Casey's soul), but hey, that's magic.

Overall, the painting is beautiful and terrifying.

(four turtles and a human sit in the arched pathway of an abandoned subway.

buttery rays of sunshine pepper the space, beams of light and warmth.

the afternoon is sickly sweet; time slides by, suspended in syrup.

casey fights his heavy eyelids, the siren song of sleep,  but the smell of the paint and the softness of his worn sweatshirt lure him away.

can’t—must stay awake—casey reminds himself, blinking blinking blinking. he watches mikey pore over leo’s shell, completely and utterly concentrated.

“and…voila!” mikey finishes, gesturing with a flourish of his paintbrush.  greens and blues streak his face. his mosaic hands a work of art on their own.

an otherworldly gleam in his eye draws the others near. everywhere he has placed his hands, glows orange—beating, living. threads of flame wind themselves around the scutes, lining it with that...living force.

they have all been waiting.  no one wants to miss this.

the painting of leo’s shell—the defiant move against the darkness.

leo, long since asleep, continues to snuffle quietly, softness rounding his clever edges.

casey has watched the entire thing. and he is still shocked how this came to life beneath mikey's attentive hands.  for a long stretch, all he could see were swaths of cool colors and beautiful linework. 

and suddenly—silent, no warning—something rises from the blur.

“wow,” raph whispers.

the dragon seems ripple across leo’s shell, wings like blossoming sails on a great sea.

“wait. is it...moving?”

casey looks closer. 

the beautiful, terrifying dragon blinks back.

“i got a little…carried away.” mikey shrugs, pressing his lips together. “but it’s not, like, dangerous. just my good ole razzmatazz.”

“razzmatazz.” donnie trails off as he stares in awe. “you’ve outdone yourself, angelo.”  a metal claw rubs mikey’s head affectionately.

the ethereal glint in the youngest turtle's eyes fades, as the orange limning leo’s shell follows in suit.

“someone should wake him, you know how he gets,” donnie says, knowing exactly how leo gets.

sweet, and excited for leo to see, mikey crouches by his face. and pokes him hard between the eyes. "lee. leon. leo i'm done. WAKE UP."

“ack! mike. the face, watch the face—wait? it’s done?”  he scrabbles to his feet, nearly head-butting his brother in the rush to the mirrors.

leo gasps. gasps at the dragon that looks back at him—that same, steady golden gaze.

“this is so girl with the dragon tattoo, angelo!" he gushes, giving his reflection a shimmy.

“well isn’t that something,” splinter muses, one clawed hand on the doorway. “it is a little scary, no?”

leo looks again in the mirror. at his younger brother, gaze deep as the ocean.

he sobers, the line of his shoulders straightening—impenetrable, thoughtful.  “i love it.”

what he doesn’t say, what casey hears is—it looks scary, yeah. it is dangerous and kind of terrifying but it’s also brave and willing to fight. it’s me. i am that dragon and that dragon is me. it is who i am at my core—where i am the truest, the ugliest, the fiercest. everything that dragon stands for is me.  and what i will do for my family.

mikey nods. he heard. he understands.

gold eyes—leo’s, meet casey’s in the mirror.

aquamarine and blue face one another, unafraid.

“me too,” casey agrees, breaking the silence, breaking the thin layer of ice that grows whenever one turtle grows cautious. "it's super badass."

mikey’s smile outshines the sun.)

So, yes, the dragon is alive, but once the initial shock of its synthetic movement faded, they realized that it doesn't actually do that much. It'll flap its wings, stare at you until you look away, but that's about it.

(No one says it, but they all look forward to when the dragon finally goes to sleep and takes its blinding stare away. It's especially bad to sit behind Leo on movie nights. Casey swears on his life that the dragon has something against Jupiter Jim. He knows that he didn't burn the popcorn in the microwave.)

Painted scales undulate, hidden light bouncing off the scales. A phantom wing ruffling the outstretched wings.

And despite it all, Casey loves it.

Sens—Sensei would too. He always talked about getting a tattoo, but Master Michelangelo was always so busy with his mysticism and making sure they all didn't die in an explosion to ever do it. Not that it mattered. Sensei could barely get away from the next bloody wave at the front lines. Especially at the end.

Watching Leo and Mikey jabber about playing pranks on poor unsuspecting full-humans very unlike themselves, sends a sharp pang through his chest. 

They look so much like their future selves, heads together, poring over a new strategy against the Krang or the next base they can secure their operations at. Not wondering how many water balloons can be popped before someone calls the cops.

Those nights were dark and strained, but the soft glow of the lanterns and their hushed voices were a comfort in of themselves, especially from the nest of blankets Casey conveniently made nearby, just to be near. They knew, of course, but never called him out on it.

Ride it out, Case. Let the thought come and go. It is a wave, you are the rock, Leo once told him, advice Casey chants over and over and over in his head, holding on to it with two, white-knuckled hands.

His throat burns, fighting grief and its questions about when it'll hurt less.

(blue brushes against the unstable cyclone of his mind.)

case, you good?

(aquamarine shudders, reaching out.)

just remembering.

(memories flood into blue—so bittersweet it edges on painful.)

i see.

The soaring blue presence, open as the sky, leaves his mind.

“I think that’s enough for today, Mike. You good with that?” Leo asks, though it doesn't exactly sound like a question.

Mikey looks back and forth, mouth forming a small o. A wave of comfort, orange as a sunburst, bolsters Casey’s spine. “Totes. Your match with Casey gave me a few ideas, I gotta dip before I forget them." He bounces away, an endless source of energy. 

Further down the hallway, Casey hears a boo! and a hilariously high-pitched squeal that sounds an awful lot like Raph.

Silence falls, and with it, a sort of paralyzed effect.

Leo spins toward him, expression wary, ready for anything. “You need a moment?”

The room blurs. His muscles lock. "No."

Casey will not lose to his panic. He won't.

He inhales on a four count, he holds his breath for another four, and releases it slowly, all a part of April's breathing work. Casey does it again and again, as Leo begins to stretch, patient and flowing movements saying i am here with you, as long as it takes.

He breathes and breathes and breathes, even as the sparring room no longer swings back and forth and his hummingbird of a heart slows to a syrupy thump.

On the last cycle, Casey shuts his eyes without fear of nausea. The aquamarine sea that characterizes his ninpo blinks back, awake and mercifully calm.

A curious blue presence stops. “Do you want to try practicing with your ninpo again?”

Casey opens his eyes to fine a bright gold gaze from across the room.

“That’d actually be nice,” he admits, walking away to lean his hockey stick against the wall.

“How are your memories?”

A while ago, that would’ve been too frank, even for leoandcasey—but, given the situation with Casey’s ninpo, it's entirely warranted.

Unfortunately, ever since they'd started working with the Hamato's spirit magic, the barriers between Casey’s memories of the future turtles and the younger turtles had become wafer thin, the different lives he’s lived becoming difficult to separate. More than a brief flash of something sad, these were violent, mind-and-soul-ripping-apart memories that left Casey pale and shaking, unsure of where he was.

To put it bluntly, there's some lingering trauma of Being Thrown Into A Time Portal As Your Beloved Mentor And Also Father Figure Was Incinerated.

But what's more strange is how debilitating ninpo is for Casey. It shouldn't result in a sickening mush of memories. Leaning into Hamato ninpo should yield a deeper, truer understanding of their essences. Leo knows it, Casey knows it, they all know it. And the more time that passes, the worse it gets. The worse he feels.

(somewhere, deep deep deep down, casey can feel a great, ageless, something hunting him in the wake of the invasion and the rebuilding.)

(he’s kept his head down, not wanting to screw with the mystic realm.)

(the blasted headaches he seems to get say otherwise.)

Despite those frustrations, the bridges between all of their minds are wide open, a bright spot in Casey's everyday life.

Even if Leo spends an egregious amount of time saying the stupidest things to him.

“We can also draw strength and encouragement from one another,” Mikey instructed one day, the gap in his smile showing. “Let me show you.”

Casey suddenly felt a rush of orange-tinged happiness, like the fizzy drink Tello made him try the other day bubbling inside of him. He could almost taste Mikey's constant energy, fluttery and kind and adaptable.

“Dude!” he exclaimed, gasping as the world glowed like liquid sunshine. “You think I could jump to the top of that building?"

“I’d advise against it, but you get the gist,” Mikey laughed, throwing a small arm around his shoulders.

So, as Leo asks about his memories, it's more than just a check-in.

It's a question of where Casey is, in the great, tangled, and complicated timeline of his life. Of Casey's pain levels. Of whether or not Casey can currently bear the weight of having his losses yanked to the surface like an exposed nerve.

(the answer is always no, no, never.)

"Here." Casey sets his jaw. He's fine, and could use the practice. And with what's going on in the Hidden City, he needs an edge. “Let’s do it.”

Leo doesn't miss a beat. "Great. You remember what we did last time?"

“It was literally two days ago.” He rolls his eyes, knowing his brother's tricks.

“Are you sure? I might need a reminder…”  Leo keeps an impressively straight face.

Casey sighs. “We tried making weapons, and I made a fork into a spork.”

"And it was a wonderful spork." Leo hides a smile with a cough, before grabbing a box of random items, the designated source for Casey-practicing-ninpo-weapon-generation. According to Donnie, who was probably just trying to do some preventative damage control. "I talked to Karai after our last session, who was more than ready to tell me that I'd been going about this wrong, which, okay. Like we all know I'm no ninpo expert."

"Dude, focus."

Leo smiles wanly, debating whether or not to sock Casey in the shoulder. "Anyways, I've been telling you to envision your hockey stick while you hold the object because that's the way my brain works. Karai says that it's not a matter of forcing a desired shape, more that you're guiding your ninpo to make something new. Basically, it knows what's up and you have to trust it. Or respect it. Both, probably."

He holds up a broken thermometer between them, gold eyes melting into brilliant blue. The thermometer glows and fades, revealing a small throwing knife, complete with its own red stripes that make Casey smile. “Wow, okay, so that works. Did not know I could do that. And, apparently I’m a knife guy too. Let’s try with you, kid.”

Casey inhales, nerves fluttering. He's half-sure this is going to end badly.

Regardless, he grabs one of Mikey's old spatulas, carved with a huge M and everything. Closing his eyes to visualize the descent towards his simmering ninpo, he dives into the ocean within. Gentle waves ripples throughout the water, housing his memories, his connection to the turtles.

okay. okay, here we go. weapons.

He scoops up a kernel of aquamarine, feeling it spiral upwards into the spatula as a warmth builds in his hands. Despite his reluctance, Casey breathes and holds the connection, letting the ninpo fill the spatula, allowing it to unfurl shimmering wings. He thinks of summer mountains, steady and gentle, a rich display of flowers and sunshine—he thinks of peace and humility and trust. He thinks of Raph, kind and gentle.

Opening his eyes, he sees that a sea-green glow rests in his hands. Its weight grows heavier. 

A sai.

“Leo!” Casey breaks into an uncontrollable smile. “Leo, you did it!”

Leo is twice as excited as he is, bouncing all over the place, fist-pumping the air. "That's all you, Case!" He beams, eyes sparkling with glee. “And you made a whole ass sai! Raph’s gonna be thrilled. This is amazing, well done.”

He made a weapon. Casey Jones Jr. made a weapon and he actually worked with his ninpo to make something, while Leo was there to see it.

Well done, Leo said.

Welllll doooonneeee.

The room tilts sideways.

(sensei offers him a crooked smile.

“well done, jones.”

casey just bested him in capture the flag: resistance base edition.

he is nine years old and thrilled.

like usual, sensei left his bandana in uncle tello’s lab, and though he’d triggered an outrageous amount of uncle tello’s inventions to target him, casey managed to evade them all, and return to his side of the base, without having his own bandana stolen.

it has taken many, many tries for casey to avoid sensei’s random attacks, uncle tello’s machines, and hide his bandana cleverly enough, but casey gets back up more determined every time.

“thanks sensei,” he beams, twirling the bandana around like a blue banner.

casey does not know it at this time, but capture the flag is practice, is training for the real missions when it is time to rescue humans from labor camps, time to steal resources from krang occupied locations, time to be able to adapt under severe, life-threatening circumstances.

casey does not see it at this time, but sensei’s smile is edged with hardness, mourning the ticking clock before casey is sent out with the others into a ravaged world.

“well done.”)

The sai clatters to the floor with what seems like a deafening roar as Casey collapses.

His head swims, a blur of gold and green and white smearing across his vision. Nausea angrily churns in his stomach, curling inward. What's worse is the piercing ache driving nails into his temples again and again and again.

Fingers digging into the floor, Casey loses himself in the pain.

(blue pushes back against the rioting aquamarine sea, stretching calming hands over the roiling waves.)

(blue looks around frantically, trying to find the source of the agony.)

(blue curls up against him, a soothing presence against aquamarine.)

When Casey comes to, he’s curled on his side. He's shaking so much that Leo braces his forearms, grips like steel.

He blinks groggily.

Leo pales considerably as they make eye contact.

"You're bleeding," he bemoans, pupils shrinking in horror.

Casey mumbles where with a thick tongue. Did he stab himself on accident? What a great addition to the situation.

"Your nose—how bad was that headache?”

His fingers come away streaked with red as he brings an unsteady hand to his face.

Letting go only to grab him a rag, Leo wordlessly sits to his left. Casey wipes his nose, exhaustion hanging from his neck like a sea bird.

He leans his head back, wincing at the cold greeting of cement. “Pretty bad,” he breathes. The pounding has not quite dulled.

The two of them look forward, erratic heart rates slowing.

Leo’s weight rests against him, grounding. “I’m sorry, Case, I shouldn’t—”

“Not your fault. Just wish I knew the cause." Casey nudges his shoulder. A flash of gold at the corner of his eye. Gratitude.

"Maybe I said something?" Leo asks, aware that actual words often trigger the memories.

Casey stops, and tries to remember the moments before the episode. He hates this part, how it feels like looking into a spinning well, upside-down. (How it hurts Leo.)

What did Leo say…

Oh. Well done.

He nods, but glares at Leo when he wilts. “How could you have known that would happen? You can’t just not say things to me.”

Leo pauses to consider that, clever eyes narrowed. "Fair. Can I ask what you saw?”

The low ache in Casey's skull says no.

“I’d won a game of capture the flag—hey, don’t laugh, it was my first win! And when Sensei said 'well done', I remember being so happy. Like I could do anything. Don't get me wrong, he kicked my ass in training later, but I knew deep down, he was impressed." Casey smiles into his lap, the wonderful things so easy to recall. His right hand bears a scar from that day, a small star-shape courtesy of Uncle Tello's defense drones. "It's weird now, seeing it differently."

"What do you mean?"

Casey pokes his cheek with his tongue. “It was always a game, then. But, now I know that he was also preparing me for future missions."

"He was trying to make it work. To have fun and prepare you—poor Raph always tried that tactic with us." Leo offers as he begins to stand.

“He did a good job of raising you—of letting you have fun and play games and be a kid,” Leo offers back, as he begins to stand.

"S'just strange to grow up."

He earns a wry grin, enough to crinkle red stripes. "Don't I know it."

Casey takes the outstretched hand Leo extends, only to immediately teeter off, Leo having to right him.

“Okay, okay, there you go grandpa, back on your own two feet.” His brother laughs, annoyingly charming. "Wait, you good?" The grip tightens, serious in an instant.

"Yes, mom." Casey rolls his eyes, at how ridiculously overprotective Leo can be.

He mimics him with a stupid little sound, shaking his head and muttering something along the lines of kids and being ungrateful.

"Let's call it for the day, then. Go wash up before you bleed all over us, loser." Leo sniffs, giving him a few encouraging pats toward the door.

“As if you aren’t a walking germ cell,” Casey snaps, triumphant as gold eyes narrow.

Before the two of them head off to their respective destinations, the kitchen and the shower, Leo stops. "Case."

The stone in his voice is unsettling. “Yeah?”

“You can always talk to the other guys if you need to.” He smiles, a thin and sad thing. "I don't need to have Exclusive Casey Rights."

It hits Casey like the unholy love child of a stone, brick, and a kick to the gut.

you can always talk to the other guys you can always talk to the other guys—

Leo is a lot of things, but rarely does he use that facial expression with that tone. As if he's setting a stray cat free by way of shutting the backdoor, locking it.

Uncertain and more than a little hurt, Casey replies, "Uh, yeah. Okay."

Distantly, he understands that he's probably overreacting because he's a) worn out and b) recovering from a mental overload, but neither of those factors ease the stomach-turning sensation of potentially being told that he needs to go bother someone else.

Leo meant well. He’s not trying to unload me. Practice wasn't great and that's fine. We're fine.

Right?

The blue dragon on Leo’s carapace stares back. Its expression says up to you, brother.

~

Casey stares at the smooth metal doors, his reflection wrapping arms around itself.

“Tello? Tello, are you in there?” He knocks, wincing as the sound unfurls and scours the darkest corners of the lair, letting everyone know exactly where he is.

Though, it's not like ninpo doesn't already do that.

"Who goes there?" Donnie's faint voice sounds. 

“Just me.” Just your loser little brother who isn't your brother, who...is having trouble knowing who he is.

Violet races around the door's edges as it slides back.

Stepping into the lab, Casey relaxes in the scent of the crisp air, the calming atmosphere Donnie takes pains to maintain. It’s wonderful. Not even Uncle Tello could manage this, and he did his best with cheap imitations of scraggly flowers that Master Michelangelo would scavenge for.

Swerving out of the way of chittering robots, dodging chemical experiments that seem to have a mind of their own, Casey picks his way over to the lab's hub, bright and glimmering and fascinating. Donnie’s bent form is hunched over scattered pieces of metal, but Casey can tell he’s entirely keyed on him, knowing how to read even the bend of his elbows.

He clears his throat.

Gold eyes blink at him from an oil-smeared purple mask. They’re the exact shade of Leo’s, and it’s disconcerting really, to feel as though the twins are always looking through one another’s eyes.

(They probably are, given how they will sometimes exchange secret smiles, entirely in their own world.)

Donnie’s fingers, stained with dark ink that Casey knows he can't wait to wash off, tap a rhythmic beat along the counter. His markings flicker rapidly, unconsciously powering his electrical system and the lair beyond. He’s constantly doing so much for his family, to keep them safe, to make badass new tech, and Casey undeniably thinks he's the coolest. Donnie was initially standoffish, hesitant to allow him into the lab. 

Initially standoffish, Donnie was hesitant to allow him into the lab. That was only because he wasn't aware of the nerd wearing Casey's skin.

(“you’ve worked some kind of voodoo on him,” leo marvels.

“i was interested in his work,” casey shrugs. “he’s brilliant.”

blue—fierce and fond—flashes across leo’s face.

it says—you understand. he is so much and you understand.

aquamarine—quiet and steady—flickers in kind.

it replies—i do.)

“Casey Junior, to what do I owe this pleasure?” He stretches with a startling number of cracks and pops, wringing the kinks from his neck.

Knowing that Donnie tolerates nothing less than getting straight to the point, Casey says, “I know this probably sounds stupid, Tello, but does Leo only hang out with me because he feels guilty?”

Donnie blinks at him incredulously. “My twin will speak to you kindly, with beautiful words that sometimes go on for too long. You needn’t expect that from me; I will speak more plainly.” He inhales. “That is stupid."

Casey blushes right to his hairline.

“There are many things in this world to worry about—unqualified pet owners that continue to have pets, the price of popcorn at the movie theater, parallel parking on the Upper East Side—but one thing you never, ever, ever have to worry about is how much Leo cares about you. Might I inquire as to what brought this on?”

Leo, earnest and sad, echoes in his mind—you can always talk to the other guys. The bottom of the spiral seems to be filled with cement.

Thickly, Casey says, "He said that I could always talk to the other guys, and I..." He stops, blinking hard.

Donnie rolls his stool closer, searching eyes reflecting the purple displays. It’s a strong gaze, no doubt—and to the wrong person, it would seem like he could scoop out their soul with one look.

To Casey, it’s strangely comforting. Like how Leo beholds him, unafraid.

“Can you give me more context?” he asks carefully.

“We were practicing ninpo, and he helped me to make this totally sick sai, which wait, I meant to show you." He swears, before realizing he's wandered off topic. Donnie blinks owlishly. "Long story short, I had an episode. Really bad and there was a nosebleed and..." Casey looks down at his open hands, stomach fluttering. Why does it feel like betraying a national secret?

“Junior.” Donnie's tone is clear. “He isn't trying to rid himself of you. The idiot was worried that you're getting tired of his teaching, which I wouldn’t blame you if that were the case because bless his heart, Leo is not my choice for the mystic arts."

Light seeps into the cracks formed by the thundering of his heart.

"In summary: Nardo thinks he's why you can't tap into your ninpo, whether that's the disproportionate amount of time he spends with you or something else." 

Leave it to Donnie to perfectly and unabashedly bring him up to speed.

Gold watches him, amused. “I swear, the two of you are the same person sometimes. So dense. It's a miracle you guys understand anything the other says." Donnie sounds exasperated, but it’s tinged with affection, tooth-rotting sweetness and Casey can’t help but shoot back a healthily chagrined smile. 

The turtle cringes, teeth bared in an awkward grimace, a metal arm patting his back. "I'll look into that nosebleed situation before Leo the Nag comes along.. Though, Junior, you know in his own misguided way, he’s right. If you're tired of his stench, you can always come and sit with one of us.  We might bite a little, pizza-supreme-in-the-sky knows I will not coddle you like my twin, and most importantly, we are always always always here for you. You’re a tough kid, a weird little brother, and part of this family. I'd never trade you for the world. If you ever want a skateboarding sesh, let Angelo and I know. We’d love to get you on some wheels.”

Casey beams—Tello called me his brother and he invited me to skateboard.

“Yes, yes, brotherly affection. Moving forward, you may remain, but I will continue with these stealth bombs. I'm savoring the brief time that my brothers do not know about them," he says wistfully.

A huge yawn overtakes Casey out of nowhere.

Donnie raises a painted brow. “Unless the child needs to sleep."

(i am so tired but i don’t really want to be alone.)

He must see something in Casey’s eyes, because he wordlessly points to a small nest of pillows and blankets close to his worktable. “Leo,” he says, as if that’s enough.

It is. Casey pads over to snuggle into the cocoon, heart warming with the image of Leo laying here, watching Donnie with sleepy eyes and a knowing smile.

Sleep beckons.

“I am sorry for the way that ninpo feels like a wedge, in some ways."

That wakes Casey right the hell up. “How’d you—”

“Leo. He’s more perceptive than you think. He can tell it’s taking a toll on you.”

Casey slumps into the blankets, hand pressed against his forehead. “I don’t want you guys to feel bad when I have these episodes.”

“He’s here for you, and is always ready to listen. He literally cannot get enough of it.” Donnie sighs. “Shit’s tough. We take it day by day.”

He can't trust his wobbling voice to thank him. Casey blinks tears away, nodding gratefully.

“Goodnight, Casey Junior.”

Purple dims, as if Donnie adjusts the levels of his ninpo to make sure he can get some shuteye.

Casey is a palimpsest of different realities, different worlds, and can’t help but see New York, the turtles in the same way too. He sees Uncle Tello curved over an invention, humming to himself; he sees Donnie curled above his creation, head moving to a rhythm only he can hear. It should hurt, right? The memories? But they don’t.

(it’s because he isn’t sensei.)

I am the worst, Casey groans, hating himself for thinking that.

Anyways, Uncle Tello let him get away with so much—sleepovers and testing new equipment, always with a generous smile and crinkled eyes, more than happy to unleash chaos on the base in the quiet hours. The hours when things almost seemed normal, even when the occasional scream sliced through the perfect veneer.

Donnie is different, but Casey remembers how Uncle Tello interacted with people outside of their family. Closed-off, straight to the point, slow to grin and even slower to laugh.

But things are changing, and you'd have to be blind to miss the soft spot that Donnie nurtures for him now. He especially can't wait to tell Leo about tonight.

Embarrassment curls into a ball in his chest, hot and hurting.

In a matter of seconds, he somehow forgot about his misunderstanding, and the way he owes Leo an explanation for his odd behavior of late.

He'll make it up. He will.

…

As Casey drifts off to sleep, he thinks of what Leo said, that one day in the rain—that one day he needed to hear something—full of love and defiance and understanding—so badly.

(you may not think it, but you’re family. you’re my family. so hate me, kick me, say whatever you like. there’s nothing you can do that’ll change it. i’ll always be here.)

Chapter Text

Leo lies facedown on his bed, running through his recent interactions with the kid.

Obviously, he's already dissected it all with Donnie, but doesn't quite know how to confront Casey about it. Leo isn't mad, per se, he's just a little hurt.

don’t push the kid don’t push the kid don’t push the kid—

It doesn’t help a quick purple thought nudged his mind, yesterday evening, saying he came by and seemed troubled. Donnie didn’t say anything else, wanting to respect the kid’s privacy but it gnawed at Leo’s self-control. Just a bit.

Leo is going to go crazy.

It’s ten o’clock at night, and even though he spent the whole day training and patrolling and going over different maneuvers with Raph (and should be sore and exhausted), he’s wide awake. He keeps seeing Casey's nosebleed, his pale face, the pain he won't speak up about.

Rolling over, Leo dispels those images as he squints at the bright screen of his phone. Opening his favorites, he shoots a quick text, asking to crash.

is now good? April responds instantly, always ready and by his side. Like last week when Mikey started that water balloon fight right in the middle of a Jupiter Jim movie.

They were crouching side by side, behind an overturned chair, giggling as they filled a massive ballon through the portal Leo had cut to the garage.

“I am with you,” April tried to say seriously, the edges of her eyes crinkling. “Let’s do this.”

I am with you, she said.

I ammmmmm wiittthhhhh youuuuuuu.

(“i am here! leo—i am with you,” april screams, face streaked with ash.

she’s got both her arms locked around leo’s…

what?

he looks at his arm, at how it bulges and has spikes and it much, much larger than his own.

april has two shaking hands gripped on his not-arm and she’s pulling with all her might.

leo is dangling of a cliff, smoke and fires surrounding them.

where is he?

he should be afraid but he is not.  his mind fills with a cool blankness.

“i’ve got you, leo, and you aren’t dying anytime soon.” she pants, beginning to tug him back up with a herculean strength.

in the seconds he was hit by…something? and thrown off a cliff.

april was there, april was ready to catch him, april is with him.

“thanks, apples,” leo breathes, locking on to her dark eyes.

she looks…older. tired. weary.

but he still knows she’s there, she’s always there.)

Leo freezes, paralysis winding through him. That was not the memory he was thinking of.

Also—did that belong to him? Is he haunted by a ghost?

Weird. 

(If the Hidden City and Casey weren’t such glaring worries on the forefront of his mind, he’d pay more attention to the fact that that was not him and not April.)

He'd been thinking of April, and that vision showed her, so. It’s probably fine.

(is it?)

Sure. Yeah. Whatever.

ugh yes. b over in ten, he writes back, giving his head a firm shake.

can’t u portal over??

let me enjoy my youth apples.

omg.

Then, see u in a bit, drama queen.

Leo clambers out of bed, grabbing his katanas and skipping out of the train car, the thrill of leaping throughout the city spreading throughout him like a drug.

Reaching down and finding his ninpo looking back, Leo summons that sensation of free-falling through the sky. He can almost taste the freedom of the city on a lively weekend night, the wind and the moon and the stars at his back. How it tempers the jumpiness immediately.

Thankfully, it's dark (as this city can get), but it's not like people are that afraid of seeing Leo's strange-looking figure flipping above. The Krang have encouraged even blinder eyes.

He feels power race down his scales, goosebumps singing along with open skies. It'll never get old.

The dragon rumbles in anticipation, but that might just be him.

Unsheathing his swords in one gliding movement, Leo slices a portal, tearing a new rip in the family room. It bathes the lair in shifting, watery blue—he realizes as an painful afterthought how it reminds him of their old place, flickering water underground painting the walls.

“Going to April’s—if you guys eat all Mikey’s cookies, I can’t promise you’ll make it to tomorrow morning!”

“Do I hear a little mouse?”  Donnie's mouth is obviously stuffed with chocolatey goodness.

His baby brother chucks a bag at Leo's face. "Take these!" It just misses his forehead as he swerves away, grabbing the weaponized cookies.

“K, thanks bye, losers!” Leo tips backward into the portal.

A chorus of byes and smell ya later’s and don’t die’s follow him, his brothers’ voices a familiar and calming presence.

He rockets through the swirling blue vortex, eyes watering, wondering where and how he wants to get to April’s place, if he feels like hopping rooftops or something a little more exciting. Raph hates when Leo surfs traffic, but if he had portalling ninpo, he’d probably hold his tongue. 

At the beginning of their mystic journeys, before the Shredder and their ninpo, when it was just Leo and his ōdachi and his inability to ever make a reliable portal ever, he went through some severe self-doubt and embarrassment. (Especially when Raph and Mikey were such naturals.)

But day after day, mission after mission, trial and error, Leo clawed his way to an understanding with the sword. For so long, he’d just waved the thing around, his pride and arrogance stunting the powers. When he realized the blade was more than just that, Leo took the time to build a bond, respect the ōdachi for its strange abilities, and treat it like a friend, he found that the mystic weapon approved of him as well.

Then again, the thrill of the ōdachi was nothing like tapping into Hamato ninpo and forging two katanas out of gardening spades—the instant connection, extensions of himself that whispered and guided him, saying look, look what you can do—see how far and fast and free you can be.

Rocketing out of the portal onto a speeding eighteen-wheeler, Leo howls into the city—look how far and fast and free i can be.

He takes off at a sprint, leaping off the edge of the vehicle at the last second, katana a white blur. Leo materializes, swinging around a streetlight as graceful as a gymnast before disappearing back into traffic, the portal like cool water.

Again and again, he weaves light between cars and buses and trucks, laughing and racing through the night. His bones bark with the landings and there's definitely more than one close-call that leave his ears ringing, but the freedom like wings beneath his skin are something that no one can take away.

It's the best when Donnie can give him a speed boost, coupled with the near-fatal speeds Leo's already built up from his portals and he all but flies, weightless, before tumbling back into his pocket dimension, safely encased in his mystic powers. The only thing better is when Donnie tags along, their laughter the only sound in a world made of stars.

Leo will never, never take this life, his family for granted again. Acting like an idiot with one healed body, two swords, and three turtles is a gift every day—one he might not deserve (though he's been working on that language), but one he’ll cherish like precious gold.

Breathless and practically vibrating with energy, Leo lands on the roof of April’s apartment with a pair of jelly-legs. Traffic surfing the awesome but exhausting, and April's couch  has never sounded better.

(he’s already forgotten about the not-memory.)

One final portal to her front door—he cartwheels through and narrowly avoids slamming into her neighbor’s wall.

April’s voice, though muffled inside her apartment, rises at his arrival. “Leo, you know how I feel about you almost destroying the building—”

He cuts her off as he enters, chunking the bag of cookies onto a table. “The p in portals doesn’t always stand for precision. Next time I’ll take the stairs.”

“Smart ass,” April mutters affectionately, tugging on his mask tails as she passes by. She gestures to the pillowy pajamas swaddling her. “What do you think?”

Leo’s currently on a quest to finding the all-around best pajamas sets with April, rated for softness, comfiness, Can I Still Take On The Foot Clan-iness…you know. The typical criterion.

“A strong contender.” The fluffy green fabric is a nice touch. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous.”

April winks at him, a sparkle in her eye. “Guess I’m in the lead then!”

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” Leo warns, sinking into a crouch before lunging and tossing April over his shoulder, spinning around in dizzying circles.

She shrieks with laughter, thumping a fist against his shell, and he twirls again, unable to keep from laughing himself. The soft, welcoming colors of her apartment blur around them, the moment warm and bubbly and worry-free.

He can almost forget about the Winged Terrors, about his doubts, about Casey’s pale face looking up at him, exhausted.

“Where’s all the big talk now?” He smirks, setting her down.

April wobbles for a bit but shoots him a glare, smacking the hand he reaches out to help stabilize. “Don’t you think this is over, little man.”

Leo gasps. “Little man?!" He stares down his beak at her for exaggerated effect, as if the nearly two feet between them isn't enough. “Now you’re gonna get it, Apples.”

Quite a bit of chasing and bragging ensues, as April insists on her pajama superiority and Leo complains about the injustice of it all, ducking into the kitchen to tuck the cookies into a slightly broken cabinet, hoping that she doesn't know he's the reason for that particular oopsie.

He looks out of the window above her sink, how Mikey's always wished for one of those, despite the fact that they live underground.

Their new place isn't so bad, now that they’ve finally had time to unpack and settle into the abandoned subway. Initially, it was a matter of learning the network for safety and maneuverability, but in the lulling months, Leo’s developed a closer familiarity with the lair, tracing the curving tiles with his mind. He knows where to step to avoid the uneven lips of the steps, where to find the best patches of sunlight in the late afternoon, where to make the loudest echoes and where to be as silent as a butterfly’s wings. If Donnie wasn't blessed with such wonderful eagle-eyes and the world's most sensitive hearing, Leo could probably sneak out.

They’ve made the subway their own, and though the memories of their original home are a painful walk down Wow We Really Got Spanked By Shredder That One Day lane, they know home is more than a tube underground.

April reappears, zipping up a large coat, tucking her curls into a beanie. “How about we go for a walk?” She fluffs her bangs. “I’m detecting some zoomies from you.”

Leo’s cheeks burn as he takes the jacket, left by either Donnie or Raph, from her outstretched hand.

“Zoomies? Haven’t heard that one in a while.” He turns away, face flaming. Leave it to April to really wind the clock back a few years.

Maybe he feels a little jumpy, and maybe he could run a couple of miles right now, but that’s beside the point.

Isn’t it?

—

April rolls her eyes, stuffing her feet into the nearest shoes.

She can practically see the jittery, spastic energy emanating from Leo a mile away, especially with all the wrestling.

He’s my brother but wow, that was a lot.

Not to mention the stress that blinks a pair of too-stressed eyes once in a while, pleading silently, whether Leo is aware of it. (And the fact that he completely did not check the weather before leaving, showing up with nothing but a bag of cookies.)

"Yes Lee. Zoomies. I don't exactly feel like Bob the Builder-ing my furniture back together tonight." She shoves him back out the door, grinning at how his blades peek through the altered coat, Donnie having previously made sure that Leo's swords wouldn't shred the poor thing, and how what should be ominous weapons are seriously sidetracked by the sparkly sewn-on patches.

The guys are always leaving crap at her apartment—clothes and weapons and snacks. Pick your battles.

"Fair point." Leo tips their heads together with a smile.

The small gesture squeezes her heart. It seems like just yesterday he was small enough to carry.

(april is ten.

leo is eight.

she’s had four little brothers for two years now, squirmy limbs and toothy grins and band-aids.

they pull on her hair and they try to scare her by hiding around the corner and they drag her into their brotherly fights.

donnie chipped her front tooth two weeks ago.

they’re getting bigger—raph’s the same size as her now, but the twins and mikey can still all fit in her lap. raph will sit by her, or worm his way under her arm.

she loves them, more than she thought she could.

they’re her little brothers and she’d do anything for them.

it’s summer, finally, and they have movie nights every friday night. they’re sticky-sweet with melting popsicles and buttery soft with the later sunsets.

april is curled in a beanbag with mikey and donnie, raph resting nearby.

leo, all of a sudden, has disappeared in a flash from where he’s been sitting at raph’s feet.

her brothers begin to giggle.

she thinks she hears someone whisper “zoomies”.

“what? what’s a zoomies?”

mikey’s smile unfurls, devilishly adorable.  “lele, he gets crazy at bed and bath,” his young voice replies, not quite at full sentences.

it’s okay. april’s in language arts now, and she’s got a lot to teach these boys.

raph, nine and ready to grow up, heaves a long-suffering sigh.

“leo has this new thing where he runs like, so much, at night or after he gets out of the bath. i don’t know where he got this idea, but he goes so fast. and usually runs into something, so…watch out.”

april squints her eyes at the little smile she always imagines on leo’s face, endearing and shy.

where does all that come from? she wonders.

a blue-streaked blur passes by the television again. it zigzags around their beanbags, the coffee table, small feet pitter-pattering about the apartment.

april remembers the race cars she saw with her mother, that one time in a crowded, hot stadium, where the cars flew in a crazy, dangerous circle, stealing her breath.

this is similar.

every once in a while, she can see the white slash of a smile, brilliant gold eyes. and then he scurries away, a whisper of laughter curling around her.

“he’s just got a lot of energy, guys. don’t be jealous he can run faster than you,” april defends, ready to protect her red-striped boy.

raph puts a hand on her arm, green gaze gentle and grown. it says—we’re not making fun. we love it too. he’s our brother and we love him.

things are different, now that they are older and know her better, know one another better.

“well…alright then,” april gives her nod of permission, making sure to make strict eye contact with each of them.

they cringe back, always afraid of letting her down.

that’s the way it goes.

leo winds down eventually, shoving his brothers out of his way to curl up in april’s lap, hogging all the space to himself as he snuffles on, lost to the world.

april lays a hand on his shell, tracing the pointed pattern.

one day leo will be big enough to fight his own battles.

one day he’ll look into her eyes, sharp edges and clever smile, and insist on handling it himself, chest puffing with pride.

one day leo will fight his own battles.

one day he’ll lock himself in a prison dimension, flashing blue and boundless courage, determined to win a fight no one thought they could.

but it doesn’t matter, because april is his big sister and she will always be there to fight those battles, whether or not leo stubbornly pushes her away or comes to her with faceless shadows hiding in his eyes, whether they’re up against mutants or aliens or themselves.

april will never leave leo alone to fight.

not today, though.  and not tomorrow.

not ever.)

Leo unravels their arms, and April hides a frown at the wild pulse hidden concealed by the easy gait and happy voice.

He's a great actor, complete with sparkling smiles and jokes that cover pain with laughs, but if anything, his behavior forced April's own hand, and now is she rarely fooled.

They step out into the street without being harassed by other tenants on the way down, Leo for once ducking before bumping his head into that one spot between the second and third floors. He must really be out of sorts, April realizes, especially as he makes small talk about whether Barry will ever move from the building.

“But who would send my fan plummeting from my ceiling?” She gasps, hand pressed over her heart.

"I hear Casey's available on Thursday nights."

April only laughs, pressed close to him as the bitter cold grabs her throat and squeezes.

She's a badass and can definitely take care of herself, but there's something undeniably nice about having someone like Leo at your side, who will literally scare away everyone.

Leo cuts an impressive figure, broad shoulders and otherworldly eyes a far cry from the tiny turtle that she could cradle in her arms. He's strong, too, impossibly so. She's seen him throw shipping containers like they were baseballs. (Admittedly, it's difficult to pin down any one of her brothers' strength because of the whole "we have mystic powers and one time Mikey threw a building" but...you get the point.) And, ever since the Krang, Leo has a particular Don’t F With Me aura that ends fights before they begin.

Her brother immediately breaks his cool image as he giggles at a pile of trash that apparently "looks exactly like Donnie's face in the morning" and April returns to reality.

They're a funny pair. The mutant and the human on an evening promenade in the blustering cold, hunkering together in piles of winter wear. 

It's not funny enough to stop her from wondering about the heavier things, about the dark shadows beneath Leo's eyes, and the slight wall of aloofness between them.

She also weighs the cost of staying up way too late, gossiping about yokai drama, the night before her essay on ancient seafaring techniques is due.

(April loves Leo. She really does. But she knows if he sought her out, he wants to talk.)

“How’s future boy?”

If Leo wasn’t an actual ninja, he probably would have stumbled at the blunt question, especially when he knows exactly where it leads. Instead, an almost imperceptible shiver passes through him. April catches it, regardless.

“Do you have any tips for…dealing with grieving humans?” Leo asks flatly, shoving his hands into his coat, expression carefully blank.

April really wants to follow his train of thought but, like, what?? What is going on?

She notes, “Oh, so we’re just ignoring that you’re part human, now?”

As they turn the corner, making their way towards a park—one of their more frequent night walk locations—Leo shifts uncomfortably, as if he’s trying to stop himself from sinking away.

“I’m being serious, April. Something’s going on,” Leo huffs, some of that fire returning to his eyes. 

“Then tell me without beating around the world’s largest bush, baby.”

“It’s just…the more Casey tries to connect to the Hamato Clan, the worse his memories and raging headaches get—you should've seen the other day. He got a whole ass nosebleed from it, and was on the ground. And I can’t help but feel like this is just another that I cau—” he cuts himself short, breath coming out in short, erratic bursts.

Leo reaches out to grab a light-post, the metal warping under his clenched hand.

“Leo, have you been thinking of the invasion again?”

He stops, staring at the ground hard. April catches a brief glimpse of the swirling fear and guilt in his eyes, blotting out the light.

He’s got himself all worked up again and now I’ve gotta bring him down to earth, she sighs to herself.

She’s spoken with Splinter and Raph on multiple accounts, immediately following the Krang and after the breakthrough with Leo months later, checking in on his emotional state and how he’s been dealing with everything. Progress is slow, as one might expect with that kind of trauma, but with happy hearts, they’ve been able to notice a healing attitude.

Every once in a while, and especially around topics surrounding Casey Jones, though, Leo gets…flighty.

(“I suspect it will take a long time for Blue to fully accept that the child does not blame him for the way things unfolded,” Splinter noted one night, as April watched Leo and Casey arguing over a card game. “Blue’s heart is too big for his own good, I sometimes fear. The more he tries to empathize the inconceivable loss that boy’s gone through, the more he will try and rationalize his ongoing culpability.

“One day, he will have to reckon with the difference between his guilt and his love for this new brother.”

April swallowed, mouth dry.

That will be quite the day, indeed.)

“You know how I feel about that,” Leo says quietly, every word more forced. “Any way you look at it, I’m the reason his life’s the way it is.”

April blinks at him innocently, insides churning with frustration.

“Is that why you care about him?”

That snaps Leo out of it.

“No,” he looks horrified, letting go of the pole, wincing at the handprint left behind. “Not at all—he’s smart and brave and he was there for me when I needed it the most. The kid’s not my brother because I feel bad for him, he’s my brother because he’s family and I love him.”

April smiles at how affronted Leo is, at the way he missteps from the path into the grass, at how he’s currently looking at her as if she’s grown two heads.

“Just remember that when you start worrying, okay?” she begins. “It doesn’t do anyone good to get lost in a spiral. If that’s what you think about him, chances are, Casey thinks the same. He isn’t angry with you because his ninpo is acting up—it’s probably something he needs to work through. Though the bleeding is worrisome—we should try and do something about that. He survived and a whole world didn’t. I don’t think survivors guilt comes close to addressing that kind of situation. And if he sees his Sensei when he looks at you, well, I’m not sure there’s much you can do about that.”

All she can see in the park’s poor lighting is that little, red-striped turtle, blinking those wide, gold eyes, listening intently. Rarely does April get to see the vulnerable sweetness of Leo’s youth on display; he keeps it under lock and key.

“Lee, you’ve walked through the fire with him, and that’s all he needs you to keep on doing. Trust yourself,” she presses a hand to his cheek, feeling her ninpo rise to the surface, green and effervescent, as she calls on that Hamato family bond. “We all learn to fight our own battles eventually, but we aren’t alone. Seek Casey out, let him come to you—it’s your decision, since you know him best. But I promise you, things will work themselves out.”

April watches as he chews on that thought, some color returning to him.

“And maybe try lightening up a little bit? Bringing some of that classic Leo?” she emphasizes, fingers forming air quotations. “I get it, Casey’s been through some tough shit, but don’t forget that you’re both stupid teenagers and can do stupid teenager things.”

Leo smiles gratefully, edges softened. Whatever’s been eating at him has abated, somewhat. He shakes out his arms and legs with one big shiver, cracking his neck for good measure.

“You always know what to say, Apples,” he chirps, bounding over to the playground.

And maybe that is why he reached out—because she has experience bringing new people into her family, new people that become her family easily. Leo’s just trying to figure things out with Casey, and it definitely doesn’t help that his future, alternate self was the kid’s dad.

He grabs the monkey bars and swings on top of them, easily.

“That’s what big sisters are for,” April calls up to his towering figure. “But…is there something else, Lee? I can tell something’s still bothering you.”

He hangs upside-down from his knees, suddenly years older, Raph chasm returning.

“Things are getting worse in the Hidden City…”

Leo goes on to explain the other day, with the guys and Casey—when the Winged Terrors' impromptu visit mysteriously aligned with a robbery.

(It sounds too convenient, too connected.)

Something rattles in the bushes close to the slide, silencing him.

Leo’s eyes flash blue and he’s back on his feet, shoving April behind him.

There’s a dim glow coming through the copse of trees—but that could be a lot of things. A glow-stick, a flashlight, some of Donnie’s tech that ran away again. 

(Point is: it might be nothing.)

He pushes the branches back, April peering over his shoulder and…

“What is that?” she breathes, an odd feeling crackling down her spine. New York’s got a lot of weird going on, but not like this.

(It’s not nothing.)

A small pool of green, burning bright, lies in a clearing blocked by the initial view of the park. Against the growing shadows of the night, the substance shines as blindingly as the sun. April shields her eyes, skirting around Leo to take a closer look.

“Leo…” she warns, shooting him a glare as he reaches out an arm before her.

“Right, right, I’m sorry,” he raises his hands in defense, giving her some space. Leo doesn’t go far, rankled by whatever unseen force he can sense.

There are spots of the green liquid on nearby plants, but a majority of it remains on the ground, where the pool feeds into an unnatural looking pattern. It looks so familiar, but she can’t exactly place it. Her adventures with the boys involve a lot of moving parts, and she simply cannot remember every single last detail.

This…green stuff, though. Would be nice to know.

April watches as Leo squints at the pool, before stiffening, face paling in recognition. His eyes, gold flares, search this way and that, for the unseen threat.

“Leo? What is it?” she asks, intrigued by why Leo would be having such an intense reaction to something she has no idea what is.

“That’s empyrean—what I was talking about earlier,” he breathes, body tensed, still scanning the park. “It’s here though, the surface.”

Oh shit.

April whips out her phone, snapping a few pictures of the large circle and the symbols etched within. She almost thinks she can see an image of—

A low hiss curls like smoke in the dark.

Her heart is in her throat.

Leo reacts seconds before a shrieking rush of energy flies through the air, right at their heads.

“SHIT!” he barks as he lunges toward her, marking like blue streaks, burning her eyes.

April experiences the next sequences of events in flashes.

Leo, hands outstretched, eyes filled with that battlefield readiness against the flaring green above them.

His arms, tucking her against his shell, as they fly through the air and hit the ground in a tumbling roll.

Her head spins, Leo scrabbling for purchase on the cold ground, blasts of energy raining down on them.

His breath, coming out in harsh pants as he gets back up, katanas unsheathed.

April, disoriented by the burning green and the impact, still lying on her side.

Through blurred vision, she swears she sees a serpent’s tail, slow and deliberate, twining through the trees. It’s streaked with the green, bright and revealing.

Soft and unforgettable at the same time, a low laugh echoes throughout the wood.

A rusty sound, skating along her fear, ratcheting up her heart rate. Rusty not from disuse but from…

From age.

This is an ancient laugh, dipped in moonless nights and pure dread.

Leo fades into the darkness, hunting the snake thing, his body lined in blue as he summons his ninpo—ready to bring their attacker to their knees.

It’s definitely not Hypno, a part of April tries to reason, tries to slow the furious pounding of her heart.

April can barely catch glimpses of Leo's stripes, bursts of his ninpo threading between the trees.

But whatever it is, it’s gone now. Only the breeze and the shifting leaves and occasional car cut through the thrumming silence, through Leo’s patrolling. He flits through the trees, scours the earth, checks the pond and the playground before heaving a frustrated groan.

And then she sees it.

A smile, horrifyingly wide, fangs as long as her forearm.

A serpent woman, green as that strange substance, peering out from the black night—eyes lost in a sickly yellow sheen. She holds a sharp object—a knife, and it’s coated in green. April does not want to know what’s been going on in here.

that snake is wrong it should not be here what is that knife why can’t i move i am stuck she will get me i am so afraid where is leo wHERE IS LEO—

April’s faced a tiny worm man, a papier-mâché army, a sheep guy trapped in demon armor, and her Dead Languages professor.

She was not afraid of them.

She is afraid of this.

April is locked in place, hands trembling on the cool, damp ground. Every part of her body is screaming to get moving, get going but she can’t. Heart pounding enough to make her wonder if it’ll burst, April attempts to summon her ninpo.

It remains just out of reach, a slippery rope.

A forked tongue flickers out, tasting the air, tasting her fear.

it’s going to know what i taste like it’s going to find me it’s going to—

“Lee,” she whispers, voice caught in the brambles. “We need, we need to go, we—we need to go now—”

Leo’s stepped back into existence, crossing over to her with nothing but urgency, and with one sword hurled a nearby building, the other hand clasping her own, they disappear. 

April blinks and they’ve teleported to a rooftop, clean and open and far far away from whatever just happened. 

She shivers, the night unflinchingly cold.

Leo’s face fills her vision, concerned, as he wraps his coat around her like a second skin.

“What’d you see?”

Her arms and legs are numb, she can’t move them, and these tiny pinpricks—ants are crawling up and down them. April wants to throw herself on the ground, hide in a shadowy corner, scream. Who was that snake lady and why is April so afraid of her?

“A yokai—or, not. A woman and a serpent—”

His eyes fall shut, the slump of his shoulders revealing his dread.

“I’d hoped it wasn’t her, but all that stuff I told you about earlier? She was there. What was that thing? And was she following us?”

April clenches her teeth, willing her body to stop trembling. The longer they stay away from the park, the lesser the horribly off-putting effects of the serpent become, but she still feels wrong.

“I—I don’t think so. It seemed more… more like we stumbled upon whatever she was doing and she—she uh, flipped. Whatever she was doing, though—it had some bad juju. I’m no wimp, Leo, but like, damn. That bitch was messed up."

“Believe me,” Leo raises his brow as he walks over to yank one of his moonlight katanas out of the stone, mouth twisted in consideration, “I know. She was off the other day, and it felt like my whole body was locking up without my control. I could barely speak.

Sheathing his swords, he takes one last long look down at the park, obviously wondering if the serpent was still down there. The dragon on his shell thrashes, agitated.

April just now notices the warmth of the extra jacket, how its pushes back those cold fingers of dread.

Turning to her, Leo asks, “Did you see what she’d been drawing in the ground?”

“Yeah, I got a photo.” she sighs, the image of that strange circle burned into her brain. Those symbols and the empyrean—what could it mean?

“I hope Don will have something by the time we get back. He’s been looking into this stuff, and something weird might’ve popped up.”

Draxum’s face flashes across her vision. She quickly texts her favorite upstairs neighbor, requesting that he get his big pink butt over to the lair asap.

She can almost feel his exasperated sigh, grumbling about the lack of respect these days. However funny, it’s a balm on her frayed nerves, knowing that his knowledge of the mystic arts might help them.

At first, tonight promised an evening walk in the air cold enough to refresh your lungs.

Now, it seems they’ve bitten off more than they can chew again, and this time they weren’t even looking for trouble.

Guess I’ll have to ask for another extension, she thinks glumly of the concluding paragraph awaiting her. April understands there’s probably a potentially world-ending plot at work, but it definitely could’ve waited for Thanksgiving break.

Just saying.

Leo’s on his phone as well, fingers flying as he messages presumably Donnie.

She’s cold and cranky and bone-weary and so lost in her own pity party, it takes Leo several tries to draw her attention.

“…app…Apples—April,” he waves his arms, gold eyes searching deep deep deep. “Are you hurt?”

“Tired, that’s all.”

She releases the breath she’d been holding, taking off her glasses to rub at her aching eyes.

“Ah,” Leo smiles, tucking her under his arm as he summons a portal, brighter than any of the city lights.

“Look, Dee’s already gone and picked up your stuff—laptop included, I know you’ve got work due—and I was wondering if you’d be okay with spending the night in the lair?”

He doesn’t say because a terrifying serpent woman is on the loose.

April nods, leaning against his side. Her eyelids feel heavy, insides a stone.

“One of us will help you finish that paper and then you can rest. I’m sorry you got dragged into this, but we’re gonna figure it out soon,” his soft tone promises i’m here and it’s okay.

In a matter of seconds, Leo carved out a shining pocket of hope and comfort and safety, free from the dark night, without breaking a sweat.

“Who are you and what have you done with Leo, Mr. I Make Everyone Feel Instantly Better?”

“I had a great teacher,” he winks, leading them over to the spinning blue portal.

April barks out a laugh, relishing in the way it breaks the thin layer of ice spreading across her senses, in the way it reminds her of the rowdy, hectic family they’re returning too.

Nothing ever seems so bleak, when she remembers them. 

“You’re my boy, Lee.”

“Always have been,” he sings, squeezing her tighter.

—

They’re sitting around the kitchen table, poring over the blown-up image April took of the symbols, green casting a sickly gleam on everyone’s faces.

Leo has brought his brothers up to speed, once he got April squared away in a fluffy blanket and one of Mikey’s mugs of hot chocolate before her, steaming curling upwards/

Raph: nodding along, unfazed by the growing problem.

Donnie: scrunching his beak, hands tracing idle patterns on his legs.

Mikey: clinging to hope with a firm smile.

“Empyrean, as we all know, comes from the Krang.”

Everyone collectively cringes, thinking of the corpse found in the Crying Titan.

(Leo thinks of the alien he was locked away with.)

Barry continues.

“This substance is highly patrolled by the Council of Heads—who have been very lenient with your actions of late, blue one. Regardless, empyrean is what gives the yokai their power, what allowed me to mutate humans, what harmed your power during the invasion.”

Everyone flinches.

“But there is one other thing.”

He pauses, purple ears flickering.

“It is the only substance that can kill a Krang.”

Leo’s pulse hammers in his ears, drowning out the shocked gasps of his family as they take in the information. He’d already been freaked by the mention of the invasion and now the Krang? In the middle of this whole mess with the Winged Terrors?

This can’t be happening.

“…what?” he asks faintly, gripping the edge of the table, barely noticing the rush of purple swirling around him.

“What’s wrong, Lee?” Mikey asks, painfully sweet, blue eyes rounded with concern.

Leo feels a million miles away, adrift in a cold, dark place where the light has long forgotten to visit.

“If someone’s stealing the empyrean…and that’s the only thing that can kill a Krang…”

His words are an anchor, choking the kitchen and dragging its occupants down to the bleak, endless hell Leo thought he escaped for good. He doesn’t even care if his reaction is uncalled for, because the ramifications of what he’s just said are already spiraling off into every which way in his mind.

“Then…then,” whispers Mikey, clinging to Raph’s arm. “Then, is the K—”

Raph quiets him with a hand over his mouth, shaking his head.

Something is howling.

It might be Leo’s mind.

Donnie’s at his side, one stable hand breaching the darkness.

(purple pulls back the curtains, lets in the light.)

nardo. nardo, they’re not here. they can’t hurt you.

(blue is curled in on itself, obscured by a shadow. if blue could speak, it would say—i don’t know if i’m strong enough to face it. not like this.)

(purple winds around blue.)

you are and more. come back.

(orange and red and aquamarine and green flare to life.)

come back.

They light the way back to himself.

Leo allows his family to strengthen his spine, shaping it into iron. He feels their pride, their love, and it is a shield against the dark cloud those pink bastards sometimes send his way.

I can do this. For my family, I can continue. Game plan—figure out what those symbols were.

Another part of him sighs, I cannot stress how much this is truly my worst nightmare.

Leo clears his throat, offering a small smile at the encouraging looks on his family’s faces.

“Thanks guys. We’ll circle back to that later,” he says, wobbly at first. “Empyrean—alien pesticide, yokai power-ups, the oozequitos’ mom. Next: those symbols,” Leo points at one curling icon. “Barry—have any ideas?”

This time, however, it’s Mikey who responds. His hands, time portal cracks almost invisible, fly out in front of him, as he begins to explain.

“I’ve been working with Barry on the mystic arts, and I remember that from a tome a couple weeks ago. It’s a rune for summoning, but at that size, it wouldn’t be for much…”

Draxum looks pleased, as Mikey draws a small orange symbol with a finger—one that matches the image projected.

Donnie claps a metal hand on their baby brother’s shoulder, “Well done, Michael.”

“Yes, well done, Michelangelo. But, as we can see, it repeats multiple times throughout the whole pattern, it routinely appears by the rune for rebuilding, or healing.”

Internally, Leo rolls his eyes. Of course Barry calls Mikey by his name, and not orange one.

Donnie peers closer at the circular image, carved into the grass.

“So…the serpent was summoning…healing? Was she hurt guys?”

April shakes her head, humming.

“She didn’t seem so to me, but it was dark.”

Leo makes known his agreement, trying and failing to remember what the snake woman looked like. But just as she did in the park, the memory slips and fades like smoke in the wind.

“We still don’t have the complete picture, everyone. I might be able to do something—could grab the enchanted ink from my bag?”

No one moves.

Leo exchanges a wary look with Donnie.

Remembering the last time one of them tried to rifle through Barry’s stuff, looking for a spare pen or piece of paper, only to almost incinerate Splinter’s favorite chair, Barry pushes himself up from the tiny stool, abruptly, and stalks out of the room.

“I’ll go and grab it myself,” he amends.

He’s gone for a heartbeat before bursting back into the room, nostrils flared in alarm.

“Who made this?” Draxum demands, holding up what seems like a regular sai with pinched fingers.

Leo squints at it, trying to place the object. It seems…familiar…

But it’s also just a weapon. Could be Raph’s.

Everyone shrugs, not understanding Barry’s point.

“I did,” Casey peeps up, setting down his mug. (Oh, right, Leo remembers. That was us.) “Why? Is there something wr—”

“Wrong??” he questions, incredulity sharpening his expression. “This is a highly unstable mystic weapon capable of terrible things.”

Woah woah woah, enough of that.

“I mean, is it really that bad?” Leo considers out loud, trying to deescalate the quickly unraveling situation.

Casey looks frightfully pale, taking a step away from the table and Draxum. His reaction stokes the climbing flames in Leo, the part of him says not today, not this kid.

“This could sever your soul from your body, make you forget your own name, open a wound that will never heal, boy. So, I suggest you not make jokes about it,” Barry snaps, setting the sai back on the table, only for everyone to lean in and take a closer look. Raph pulls April backward, noting along with Leo the way her intrigued expression says this could be a great new addition to my flaming bat arsenal.

Donnie’s got his goggles flicked down, and he appears to be silently dictating the notes he is currently taking on the weapon, some of the claws from his battle shell fumbling around with a notepad. He tilts his head in concession at Leo, signaling he’s not wrong. this thing’s got some pepper. Leo wants to slap a hand over his face and go to sleep, probably forever. Draxum’s prickly at best but whatever’s going on is out of character—Leo wants to cut him some slack, but the distress he sees in Casey overrides that.

“Barry, we’ve talked about overreactions,” Mikey says slowly, brow lowering in severity.

“Yeah, look Barry—that sai is from when Casey and I were going over creating weapons with our ninpo, not trying to become the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor,” Leo mouths back, unwilling to take shit from his crabby extra dad.

Mikey’s white flag ultimately does nothing.

Something comes alight in Draxum’s eyes.

“From you, I would expect this, but the child? What are you doing to him?”

Leo takes a step back; Barry’s words have pierced a nerve. He hates that the raging sheepman might not be wrong. It’s all of his worst fears of late, laid out on the table. 

Something is wrong, and Leo’s involved.

“Uh…” is all he’s able to manage, thrown off his game by the venom.

His brothers and April are similarly surprised into silence—save for Casey. Leo doesn’t even need to unfurl his ninpo to feel the raging aquamarine cyclone hissing and snapping around the kid.

Casey snarls, slamming a hand on the kitchen table with a brutal crack!

“Back off,” he says in a voice that is more than one. Unnerving and ancient and unstable.

Something is severely affecting his ninpo.

As Leo makes eye contact with the kid, a tiny gap opens.

(aquamarine huffs between clenched teeth.)

here. for you.

(blue reaches out a hand.)

you alright, kid? maybe thinking barry’s got a point? feeling a nosebleed again?

(an affronted squawk, tinged with sea-green, smacks blue in the face.)

no to all of it. it’s not you.

Despite the relief he feels at Casey’s conviction, Leo’s stomach plummets in contrast, as he notices the sai writhing on the wood, to the tune of Casey’s ragged breathing, his shoulders rising and falling. 

Casey blinks, the flames parting in his fierceness just enough to show Leo that he’s here he’s okay and while it’s weird it’s not the end of the world. trust me, his firm mouth and short nod say.

Draxum remains calm, unsurprised by the outburst. He watches Casey with a cool, appraising expression, glancing back and forth between him and Leo.

“My apologies for the blunt method, but I think we can all point out the obvious. Leo’s a liability to your mystic signature,” Barry looks down at Casey, low tone cutting through the wildness. “He should keep that wild mystic power of his under wraps."

Leo’s ninpo, hisses at that, growing its own pair of fangs. He doesn't need to look down to see his stripes crackling.

(it’s probably not a good time for him to bring up that he saw a memory that wasn’t his.)

Casey is back on the defense, hackles raised at Draxum. Aquamarine begins glowing at the edges of him, thrumming, shifting the atmosphere of the room.

Mikey, ever sensitive to mystic matters, winces at Casey’s revving ninpo.

Leo’s still too stunned to respond, to do anything, after the Krang revelation and now this?—could he really be the one hurting Casey? He would never want to, couldn’t bear to. 

Risking a glance up at his big brother, Leo searches for something, anything, in Raph’s green gaze.

Help me, a part of him begs. I cannot speak.

Raph crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at the sheepman.

The subtle, yet intimidating movement is all it takes to slice through Barry’s incensed mutterings.

“Sorry big guy, but that’s not gonna work around here. We’re not fans of tough love, and especially not with this subject. Leo’s not a liability—he’s a pillar of courage and strength for Jones, and vice-versa. Just because willy-nilly stuff’s acting up and maybe there’s a scary little weapon floating around doesn’t make it okay for you to act like this.”

Leo’s eyes become watery.

Mikey, suddenly clad in a turtleneck and spectacles, nods along.

“Agreed. What they’re going through is something I call, trauma.”

“Angelo, everyone calls that trauma,” Donnie rolls his eyes, monotone.

“Hush, patient.”

Leo’s never loved his brothers more.

“Back to what I was saying,” Raph pushes them aside. “I get you’re worried, but we can’t let our panic about the empyrean and the Krang fuel start hurting our relationships. We’re gonna work together on Casey’s ninpo,” he shoots a Look at Leo, “And not suppress our mystic powers. We figure this out, together.”

April slings an arm around Casey’s shoulders.

“Mad Dogs style,” she concludes.

Casey is a mixture of dark stares and tensed shoulders, fisted hands and unyielding stubbornness.

That is, until Leo gives him the i’m okay, and he unwinds, ceasing his You’re Gonna Regret That glare aimed at Barry. The churning aquamarine see they all feel quiets, its waves shrinking and abating.

Leo presses gratefully into Raph, savoring the gentle rumble of his brother, thankful for the way he’ll always stand up for him, glad he trusts Raph to do so.

“Well,” Barry sniffs, lightly surprised by his family’s defense of Leo. “If that’s how you feel, then I suppose I will do the same. I may feel reluctant about calling you turtle humans my children, but that does not mean I will abandon you in this. I will return to my lab and begin join the purple one’s exploration of the rest of those runes. There must be something—even if I have to break into the Council of Heads’ private collections.”

Raph face plants on the table.

“Don’t encourage Donnie,” he groans.

“Too late,” shrugs Leo’s twin, probably knee deep in the leaders’ ancient archives.

Leo grins at him, excited for whatever shit they dig up. Maybe more gossip material. April winks, her laughing expression saying she knows exactly what’s going on.

The brief break of his family’s jokes soothes the verbal punch from earlier, reminding Leo that Barry’s just doing what he thinks is right, even when it so clearly isn’t.

I’ll cut him some slack. If he thought throwing a child off a building, he probably isn’t great with confrontations or stress.

Barry offers an apology in his pale yellow eyes to Leo, the expression wildly foreign.

Leo nods, slightly. He’s okay, and he understands.

That seems to melt the tension from the sheep.

“I must return to my home, before you fools throw any more curveballs at me, though I can’t imagine how you would top this evening,” Barry pinches the bridge of his nose. “Goodbye, children; remember, empyrean messes with your ninpo, so if you begin experiencing anomalies, you might be close. And tell Splinter I said hello, when he awakes at three tomorrow afternoon.”

“Bye extra dad! We will!” they chorus, much to his chagrin.

As if Draxum’s departure sucked all the energy from the room, Leo watches as his siblings wilt, various stages of exhaustion setting in.

Poor April looks like she might pass out at any moment, dark smudges under her eyes only growing.

Mikey appears to be seriously considering forcing Raph to carry him back to his subway car when Donnie, as he passes by April, says plainly, “You should get some rest.”

“I can’t,” she sighs, heaving her bag onto the kitchen table. “I’ve got just a little bit left, and I won’t be able to sleep knowing I haven’t finished.”

Bleary-eyed, everyone comes to surround her, hissing at the bright light of the laptop.

“What is it—is it about?” Mikey yawns, stretching and rubbing his eyes.

“Boats in the ancient world. You know, the Pharaoh and his sun vessel, Mesopotamian kuphar…”

Leo can’t help but smile at the fascination sparkling all around Donnie, the way he leans into gobble down the new information. But, as fun as his reaction is, it’s ultimately unhelpful. Because if Donnie doesn’t already have something to offer in the knowledge department, it’s not like the rest of them can.

Raph and Mikey blink tiny eyes, mouths barely open as they barely follow.

It’s not looking great.

“The Phoenicians had a maritime religion,” Casey supplies helpfully, his sweet smile and willingness to help extremely endearing—maybe even more than Don.

I was wrong, Leo thinks.

Along with him, everyone’s staring, hard, at the kid, trying to figure out why he would know such random, specific information.

“Uh…how do you know that?”

“I had a book, well, you know…” he trails off, running a hand through his hair.

Leo does his best not to cringe, thinking about Casey’s past life, especially after tonight’s events, hoping his family manages to avoid doing so as well.

“And we weren’t always fighting or on the run. It was a history book, and it had a section on the Phoenician people and their ease with which they sailed the Mediterranean, and I can't believe I'm actually talking about this with you guys, and I'm actually using what I learned,” he realizes with widened eyes.

Why does all of this sound familiar, all of a sudden?

Leo has no idea who these phone people are…why…

he’s falling backward.

(he’s pushing a tattered rug out of the way.

it covers…

hm.

it’s a door.

a door to where?

casey. casey’s room, he remembers.

his hand is shiny and metallic and not his own.

a tiny voice trills.

leo steps into the room.

casey’s eyes, wide and dark and worried, lock onto his.

“sensei?”

…

sensei?

casey looks younger, less scars.

still the same raven’s down hair, tipped nose.

the way he looks at leo.

it is far more loving and open and affectionate than he's ever seen from the kid.

“please don’t be mad, i had a nightmare and uncle tello found me this book…”

“not mad, case. just checking in,” leo says, softly, settling down by casey’s tiny cot, squished into a corner.

where are they? what is this strange room?

“can i read to you?” he asks, toothy grin losing its hesitancy.

“dazzle me, kid.”

these are things leo would say.

these are things leo has never said.

“the phone—the ph,” casey stumbles.

“phoenicians,” leo corrects, wondering who the hell these people are.

“the phoenicians would bring their anchor to the temple of the sea god, a sacrifice. and they would pour out wine into the sea—sounds like a waste.”

“you’re too young to say that,” laughs leo, mussing the kid’s hair.

casey sticks out his tongue.

“they would pour out wine into the sea, lest they wish to submit themselves to an eternal, watery grave.”

sheesh. where did donnie get this book? leo wonders.

“sounds easy enough. pour some stuff out and bring a heavy rock somewhere.”

“agreed.” leo huffs, curling against the cot. “keep on reading, big man. you’re doing great.”

he almost cries at the tiny hand on his shell, going pat, pat, pat.)

Casey’s still talking animatedly, bringing random information out from the cobwebs in his mind.

No one seems to notice what just happened, Leo realizes. And it literally happened again—that’s twice in one day.

“They had to sacrifice their anchor to sea god’s temples, as well as pour out wine into the sea…”

The memory works its way out of Leo’s mouth before he knows what’s going on.

“Lest they wish to submit themselves to an eternal, watery grave,” he finishes, in a daze.

Casey stiffens, painfully, staring at Leo as if he’s seen a ghost. His eyes flick back and forth, rapidly, gathering tears—mouth opening and closing, wordless.

Everyone else gapes, open-mouthed, at him, rightfully wondering where the hell he got that from.

“Um. Correct me if I’m wrong, anyone, but when did Nardo become an expert on ocean religion from thousands of years ago?” Donnie wonders aloud, frowning.

Scratching his neck, Leo blushes. If he wasn’t sure about whose memories those were after earlier this evening, he knows now. The Casey from his vision called him Sensei.

There was only ever one Sensei in Casey’s life.

Just please let it not be demon possession, Donnie will never let me hear the end of this.

Leo groans internally, and extends his arms out in surrender, trying and failing to conjure a grin.

“There’s something else I need to tell you guys…”

Chapter Text

What in the fresh hell is going on today?

The kid looks like he’s about to be sick, Leo is clearly terrified he’ll upset Casey more, Mikey’s completely absorbed by the strange symbols, and the rest of Donnie’s family glances back and forth between the sai, each other, and the projected runes.

"So... we're just gonna put this away," Donnie grabs the sai with a metal claw, much to the chagrin of Raph and April, "And you're gonna spill the beans, Nardo.”

(purple plants himself right by blue.)

and i will be with you. the whole way.

Leo sighs, eyes fluttering shut as he begins to recall his visions.

His twin’s recollections—the unsteady sensation of being thrust into a memory that is so similar to your own, but so clearly not—gnaws on Donnie’s understanding of how the mind works, how anything works.

This evening—gah, everything has been such a topsy-turvy ride that keeps throwing him for a loop.

Donnie can’t imagine how Leo or Casey feel.

Leo casts one more pleading look at the kid.

“I swear, the first time, I thought it was just some weird happening and I didn’t pay much attention, but the second. I knew it wasn’t me, it was your—” his words cut off, harsh and unexpected.

Casey, to his credit, offers nothing but clear-eyed encouragement, a gentle tone.

“It’s okay, Leo. No headaches, no bleeding,” he assures.

Donnie once again finds himself thinking the kid’s got guts, as he tries not to gape. If the roles were reversed and suddenly Donnie was faced with the possibility of one of his deceased sibling’s memories showing up so close to him…he’d probably scream, cry, shake the shit out of Leo’s shoulders. Any connection to his family, even if it is an imprint of a time long ago, reduced to nothing in the grand scheme of everything, would be like a handful of diamonds.

Shining and precious and sharp.

“What I saw were your Sensei’s memories—you reading to him at bedtime. I’m not sure what they triggered—”

A light goes off in his eyes; Donnie leans closer.

“It was what you were saying—just like the other day. Words. Words triggered the memory."

The two of them—the turtle and the human—stare at each other, as if a thick, stone wall no longer exists between them.

If Leo wasn’t his twin, Donnie would never have noticed the tension leaving his shoulders, the shine returning to his gold eyes, the ease of his sheepish grin.

Even Casey looks better—

As if they’ve returned to equal footing, equal understanding.

Donnie would be lying if he said the kitchen didn’t feel lighter.

(it doesn’t do anything to make the blow of casey’s next words any lighter.)

(any less painful.)

“Guys—there’s something I have to say, and I don’t want to sound like a party pooper,” Casey begins, in a voice way too serious to be saying something like “party pooper”.

Mikey nods solemnly, “It is a terrible burden to bear.”

Casey, fortunately, cracks a smile at that.

“We’ve got to find these empyrean sources before…um. Whoever does.”

Frowning, Raph scratches his head.

“Raph doesn’t think that was much of a downer.”

Casey balls up his fists, staring straight at Leo, his anchor.

“We need to find them, because that’s what the Krang went after first in my world. At least, after their initial strike.”

It sounds like an apology. And it probably is, given the pale expression on Leo’s face.

Powering on, Casey adds, "Sensei and the rest told me this later on—I never even saw a drop of it, so there wasn’t much talk of the Krang-killer. I think it’s why the resistance could never truly win against them.”

He ends there, the rest too loud, too harsh, too horrible to say aloud.

Donnie imagines that a giant wet blanket has been thrown over the room, suffocating everyone in a miniature damp hell. This news is bad to say the least, and his family appears to be in various states of shock.

(Raph, subconsciously touching his ruined eye; Mikey, rubbing his hands together; April, gripping the blanket tighter.)

(And Leo.)

(Nothing. Nothing at all.)

(It hasn’t caught up to him yet.)

No one wants to say Casey’s a party pooper…but. Like. Damn.

Vibe killer, and that’s saying a lot, given tonight.

Barry will be sad to hear his adult tantrum has been eclipsed.

Leo exhales, harsh, as if summoning his strength. Swishing his cheeks back and forth, he looks around the room slowly, cataloguing everyone’s reaction. Donnie and the others wait with bated breath—whether in respect or fear, each most likely glad to be free of the burden of moving forward.

“We have to face the facts,” he starts, tone low and gravely, filled with shadows. “From this point onward, we must assume the Krang could be back.”

And there it is.

The horrible, ugly thought everyone tried skirting around.

“We know the Sister was taken by those government-looking creeps, but did anyone have eyes or ears on the smaller one? From the Technodrome?” Leo asks, grimy, rusty, awful memories rising from the ashes.

Donnie imagines the control center of the Krang’s ship and the idiotic toothpick outfit the smallest alien wore.

(donnie does not think of the technodrome’s tentacles on his shell.)

Donnie wonders what happened to that Krang when he slammed it into the wall.

(donnie does not think of being ripped away from the console with the brutality of a butcher.)

Donnie cannot remember if he saw any movement from the alien afterwards.

(donnie does not think about the thousands of knives skirting along his skin, along his insides, along his mind as he reels in the wake of becoming a ship.)

In the end, like everyone else, Donnie assumed that one Krang died in the ship’s destruction. And was content to think that.

Already disoriented by the trauma of the invasion, a blue wave of fear beyond all reasonable understanding hits Donnie’s ninpo.

Cold—freezing darkness and bleak hopelessness fill his mouth. It chokes him, pulls the light way, yanks the floor from beneath his feet.

Donnie is lost, floating in a world that is not his own.

No family.

Nothing.

He will disintegrate into a scattering of ashes and no one will remember his name—

Leo’s ninpo flips, blasting the immersive memory away with gritted teeth, with that resolute, iron, unbreakable will of his.

It is the upward sweep of a jetpack, the wild hoots and hollers of rooftop cannonballs, the deadly precision of a perfectly executed kick.

Sure there’s a sharp edge to it all.

Beyond the shimmering blue sky of his twin’s ninpo, there is the lingering hurt of the past.

But it is not without stubborn gleam.

Leo’s gold stare radiates, a flare in the darkness that draws them in, signaling we’ve been hurt but we did not break—we will not give up. 

“Yeah, they got us good last time—but this isn’t their comeback story. It’s ours. They hit us? We hit back twice as hard.”

“Tell ‘em Leo,” Raph calls, the vibrations of his rich voice bouncing throughout the kitchen.

Leo gains speed, gains confidence, gains force. His trust and faith in his brothers and sister is contagious; it lifts the corners of Donnie’s mouth, steels his spine, fills and fills and fills his chest with the thundering purpose of protecting his family, of fighting back, of remembering who they are.

“No matter what, we’re in this together.”

Their siblings’ ninpo stretch and flex, coming alive; if Leo, bent and bruised and haunted, can rise up and say these things, so can they. There is no room for darkness or nightmares—the hope that Leo has in his family is too big, too great, too wonderful to ignore. 

Donnie watches as Leo falls back into leadership, into the role of the one brave enough to look the mounting odds against them with a fierce grin—fierce enough to cast away the entire team’s doubt.

Pride for his twin sends goosebumps up and down his skin.

Leo becomes that golden warrior, blazing and triumphant, leading the charge.

“We show ‘em round two, Mad Dogs style,” his grin morphing into a baring of teeth.

A challenge.

(Donnie’s the older twin, Raph the oldest brother.)

(Donnie can’t help but feel young, tiny, standing there before Leo’s…sheer determination, for lack of better words.)

(It’s like the reverberations of a shockwave.)

“Alright—ideas people. Anything you can think of.” 

Donnie smiles to himself—this feels familiar.

All at once, everyone begins speaking, morphing the kitchen into some cracked-out Socratic seminar.

“The demon sai??”

“The serpent—”

“What about our ninpo? What if we all—”

“Barry said those symbols—”

Leo cringes, clearing his throat roughly.

“Okay, okay—ha, I’m loving the enthusiasm, but we could work on coherence,” he says, with no small amount of patience.

“The empyrean is way too connected to everything,” Casey mutters, thinking aloud. “Our flashbacks, the summoning circle, the way my ninpo’s been acting up.”

“Casey, you make a fair point. We should all be on the lookout weird shit happening to our ninpo, and what’s more so—if the Krang are back, we cannot let our guard down and have our powers locked away again.”

“Not to mention that one day with the Winged Terrors and their conveniently timed explosion,” adds Mikey, helpfully.

“Clearly finding the remaining empyrean sources before the Winged Terrors or the snake lady or the Krang is our top priority,” Raph states, hands flat on the table. He exchanges an unreadable, yet welcomed look with Leo. “But there aren’t enough of us to try to protect each of the sources around the clock, but maybe if we try and check out the ones we know about, ahem, Dee,” he frowns at Donnie, who shrugs in turn. Look, any of us could’ve asked Barry about it, he thinks. “There might be clues about what they’re doing.”

“And maybe we’ll catch more snippets of that serpent lady,” Leo nods along.

“That damn snake,” Donnie growls. “I bet you if we could just figure out a little bit more about her, a lot of this puzzle would open up.”

They all hum in agreement. Donnie has to give it to Leo—their morale was sinking and drowning, the late hours of the night whispering doubts and exhaustion, but with just a few touches of guidance and support, he can almost see a way out of this.

“Great, guys. Given the rushed timeline to…whatever Great and Awesome Things the Krang has planned, I think the best course of action is splitting up.”

Leo stares at Casey for a second longer, probably considering his words from earlier. Donnie agrees with the kid—their ninpo, though a spiritual power rather than mystic, was all-but extinguished by the Krang. It’s better they know the aliens can do this, but do they really have the strength to muster another emotional breakthrough to get it back?

Donnie spots the instant that Leo concocts some crazy plan—fleeting as a shooting star.

“Mikey,” Leo calls, gesturing for him as he backs away from everyone. “I’ve got an idea.” 

Their baby brother stands immediately, adorably ready to help. Donnie squints his eyes, trying to figure out what’s going on.

(blue flares to life.)

trust me, don.

(purple sighs.)

okay…

(blue whispers by.)

the less that know about this idea, the better.

(humming, purple retreats.)

understood. i’ll distract the others.

He watches Leo’s shoulders shake with laughter. Leo turns, revealing one gold eye filled with mirth, seeming to say—committed to the cause now, aren’t we?

Scrunching his beak, Donnie sticks out his tongue—never half-ass it, nardo.

"What are they up to?” April wonders aloud.

Donnie shrugs, honoring Leo’s request, “Need to know basis.”

“Oh, really—”

“Yup,” he smiles, tapping her on the nose. “But seriously, I don’t even know. Typical Leo plans.”

That seems to get through to her. She nods with a sigh, letting it go, and returning to the task at hand. (Not without a flick to his forehead.)

“Some of us interrogate—I mean, ask the Winged Terrors nicely,” he amends under Raph’s withering stare, “if they know anything about that snake.”

“That’s not going to be a fun task,” Casey grumbles, most likely remembering when he was dropped midair by one of the gang members.

“Have any of us actually even looked into their hideouts?” wonders April, getting out her notebook to begin jotting ideas down.

On a second thought, she begins to sketch a rough outline of the Hidden City, labelling popular landmarks, towns, and different features with surprising accuracy. As April continues, Donnie points about three illegal sources of empyrean, possible places that the Terrors would occupy, and anywhere else they think they should check into.

“The Crying Titan is destroyed, right?” Raph brings up again, anxiety peeking an eye.

Donnie mulls over that, for a heartbeat.

“No, I think the Council of Heads just put up Do Not Cross Tape. I’m actually not sure what’s there at this point,” he replies, watching as April circles it in bright yellow.

Casey snorts, cracking his knuckles, “Like that’s gonna stop anyone.”

“Stopped me,” Raph shrugs, sniffing. “Guess none of you have respect for the law.”

In unison, April, Casey, and Donnie chorus, “Nope!”

Before they know it, the map becomes a somewhat messy, but mostly strategic reference of the places needing investigation. April passes each of them an array of highlighters, beginning the process of delegating different locations.

Donnie resists the urge to chew on his purple marker as he stares and stares at the Crying Titan, wondering why he never thought to look back into it. After defeating the Shredder, the palm platform was absolutely nonexistent, and he thinksthe gargantuan statue of the Titan itself is no longer standing…

One part of him seethes. He hates not remembering crucial information that comes back to bite you in the butt.

(But probably everyone hates that.)

Casey traces a finger along the outer edges of the map, eyes wide as he takes in all the different parts of the city he apparently didn’t know about.

It looks a lot smaller on there, Donnie internally winces, thinking about the scope of the underground caverns—how the rock ceiling seems miles away.

Large-scale missions always look daunting on this side of things—with little information and a long ways to go, especially now, staring down the barrel of the gun that a Krang is potentially wielding at them. Donnie doesn't doubt his family’s scrappiness, their refusal to give up, the random luck they seem to always have on their side. 

(He also doesn’t doubt each and every member of his family is dragging full size pink-alien-themed-baggage behind them, that’s only growing with recent news.)

Zoning back into the conversation, Donnie starts when he notices Casey’s wide dark eyes, pinning him down.

“Tello, what do we do with the weapon?” that i made… he doesn’t say.

Donnie’s metal arm comes back down to hold the sai between the two of them. It appears completely normal now, no movements, no anger, no inclination that it might start spitting sparks again.

“Try something for me, Casey Junior,” Donnie begins, slowly and carefully and gently. He’s not going to spook the kid. “Hold this.”

Casey takes the weapon with trembling fingers, eyes never leaving Donnie’s.

“What I don’t understand is…how you could make something like this if your ninpo’s been acting so oddly. Can you tell me what you were thinking when you made this?”

Brightening, Casey glances over at Raph.

“Sure! I was thinking of Raph—how he’s strong and patient and not scary, even though he’s spiky. He’s like a warm summer day, the kind you look forward to in the middle of winter.”

Donnie holds up a hand, pressing a finger to his temple.

(Raph, a ways away, looks mightily pleased.)

“Okay, wow. Elaborate description alert. Save that for Leo. But—if you weren’t having weird juju during the creation….it must have occurred afterwards.”

Casey shrugs and nods, “Well, yeah. That’s when I had my nosebleed. And, we were just in the training room the whole time, if that helps.”

Squinting his eyes, Donnie racks his brain for any explanation of the kid’s episode with the powerfully charged mystic weapon. His mind leaps and bounds between possibilities, picking up the previous weeks’ occurrences and discoveries with careful hands.

“Donnie—say something. You’re freaking Jones out,” April waves her hands, bringing him back to reality once more.

“I think that it is reductionistic to deduce that proximity to empyrean is the only thing affecting you, kid.”

Because the training room is nowhere near any sources of that junk—I would know. I scan the lair and its nearby surroundings almost constantly.

Casey blanches.

April thuds her head onto the table with a groan.

Donnie can feel Raph’s gaze on him, quiet and assessing—ready to step in, but willing to give his younger brother the space to be himself.

(purple sends red a grateful rush.)

He receives a red thumb’s-up back, bright in his mind.

“No, no, it’s nothing to worry about. I just, I don’t want to settle there, and have us let our guards down. Stay alert, and if more episodes happen, try and remember the circumstances, where you are, and what it feels like.”

Donnie leans down to eye level with the kid.

“Hey—hey, remember what I said in my lab,” he mutters, only for the two of them.

always always always here for you echoes between the turtle and the human.

A tiny smile blooms on Casey’s face, removing the pained lines that are far too early for his young face.

(purple raises a brow.)

i know i make the situation sound worse than it is.

(aquamarine blinks awake, happy chirp trailing along.)

you don’t. it’s just how you process. i know you.

Donnie, taken by surprise, chuckles.

This kid, he thinks, looking at the firm will, the compassion, the i know you that Donnie would never admit he loves to hear.

Mikey and Leo’s conversation fades back into their range of hearing, as everyone lulls into silence.

“I’d have to start right away…” whispers Mikey, big blue eyes searching Leo’s. His stickers glow with nervous energy.

“Do whatever you need to do. We’ll keep you posted, and make sure you get some sleep, somewhere, Angelo.”

Leo flicks a sword through the air, opening a sparkling portal, for Mikey to steal away into, gone without another word.

“Alright guys, what are we—oh wow! This map looks great!” he exclaims, holding up the well-marked paper. “I mean…it’s definitely homemade—ow!”

He yelps as April smacks him upside the head, a little fire returning.

“If you weren’t over there being Mr. Clandestine von Sneaky Pants, maybe our resident artist could have helped us. Alas, I took it into my own hands. Besides—we were working with the splitting up idea, and have tried to start assigning different parts, but…” she yawns. “We’re losing some steam.”

“Right. Let’s call it for the evening, we’ve done a lot already.”

“But—um…what about…finding the, ah—serpent lady?” April asks, like a broken record, shivering as a chill works its way up her body. Donnie looks at her more closely—she’s pale as a sheet and seriously wound-up from her previous encounter, if she keeps bringing up that reptile with that blank look.

Uncharacteristically quiet—and lacking that surprising bloodthirstiness…

Donnie checks his armband, where he conveniently monitors his family’s vitals. April, obviously, is included. His scans reveal an unholy amount of cortisol and adrenaline coursing through her bloodstream, pumping viciously.

That’s odd. April is scared of virtually nothing.

But her cortisol levels, according to my scanners, are suggesting potential adrenal failure.

Donnie’s shell quivers with something like…fear.

(purple knocks on the door to blue’s mind, failing to hide his alarm.)

leo. LEO—april cannot, and i repeat cannot go near that serpent again. her cortisol levels are around 360 nmol/L.

(blue comes to a screeching halt.)

what??

(purple raises his hands in defense.)

you’re the medical expert! i’ll let raph know—donnie out.

Leo levels a Thanks A Ton glare at him.

Raph spaces out for a second, eyes glazing over as he tunes into a purple-tinged message. Their older brother shifts, curling towards April imperceptibly, as if to shield her from invisible threats. 

She’d probably push him away if she weren’t so tired, so shell-shocked.

It’s a bad sign.

“Apples,” Leo murmurs, leaning down beside her. “Trust me, we’ll figure it out. But right now, why don’t you rest? Or…rest after you finish up your work with Casey. Don’t give me that look, you know you’ll be mad if you save it for Morning April. You two can use the family room, or the next most scholarly place.”

April thaws, the corners of her mouth tipping.

Still far too much like a ghost, she drifts through the kitchen, tiny hands still clutching the blanket to herself.

Casey, held together by possibly one more braincell, moves to gathering April’s remaining stuff into his arms. He hesitates only a moment when he goes to pick up the laptop—revealing his peculiar aversion to computers, even though Donnie knows his future self used technology.

Whatever. Donnie will acclimate him to the wonders of computers soon enough. 

And the internet. 

Definitely that.

As he passes by Leo, they exchange something unspoken.

Normally, Donnie would abhor the idea of Leo sharing a bond similar to their own as twins. He hoards memories of shared late nights and burned coffee, testing out new inventions in old shipyards, laughing until they’re sick like a dragon protecting its gold.

But things have not been normal for a long, long time.

Casey is a serendipitous blessing—he pokes fun at Leo, calls him out for his bullshit, and has stuck at his side through thick and thin, especially when Leo’s own family couldn’t understand.

(that and donnie knows he can trust the kid to love leo not as a father but a brother.)

Whatever the two say to each other, it’s definitely got to do with the single braincell they play hot potato with, and Donnie’s more than happy to not be a part of that approaching conversation.

Leo stretches and yawns, removing his mask to rub his eyes. The gilded sheen fashioned by his leadership fades; this is now just Donnie’s younger twin, young and tired and sagging beneath the responsibility.

“Wow. Raphie, I have no idea how you did that all the time,” he slumps into Raph, as if their older brother is his personal fainting couch.

Raph snorts, wrapping an arm around him.

“Proud of you, little brother. Raph thinks that was amazing—he’s not sure he could’ve pulled us back together. But Raph doesn’t want you to think you’ve gotta do this all on your own. These things aren’t your fault and none of us think like that. And I know,” he squeezes Leo tighter. “I know the Krang hurt you. That the thought of them is painful. Don’t lock us out, Lee—we’ll come and drag you back out kicking and screaming. You don’t have to be strong on your own.”

Donnie clenches his teeth, holding back tears as he watches those carefully chosen and desperately needed words hit Leo like a truck.

As if he knows this is a safe place to let go, to stop holding himself together so tightly, Leo’s face folds like a house of cards, as he softly cries.

The ghosts of his past swirl between them, loud and malevolent and already planning a long-term stay.

“I’m—the Krang—how can they be back?” he breathes, only seventeen.

  (donnie sees big red stripes that cover wide eyes, donnie sees a smile missing its two front teeth, donnie sees tiny hands reaching for him as they run down the hall.)

(donnie sees his little brother, clever and quick and carefree.)

“I thought they were gone, I thought we were okay.” I thought I’d sacrificed enough, Leo doesn’t say.

Two green hands curl around Raph’s arm.

“I don’t know if I can bear it,” Leo whispers, barely louder than Donnie’s heartbeat.

Raph hunches over him, drawing Donnie in as well.

The three of them fit almost perfectly—just missing their bright orange sunburst.

“I don’t know, Leo. But you said it earlier, this is our comeback story. We know who we’re fighting, we have more time, and we have a plan. Our family is our greatest strength—that’s something the Krang will never understand.”

Donnie smushes his chin into Leo’s head, nodding.

Screw the ghosts of the past. Screw the Krang. I’ll rip them apart with my own hands, if I have to.

“We’re in this together. And we will never let them take you away from us again,” he says fiercely, as if each forceful word fights back against those memories of the Krang.

Something blue and sparkling brushes against his ninpo.

It says—i trust you i hear you i will not shut you out.

Leo’s muffled voice staggers upward, through the mess of turtles.

“Love you guys.”

“We love you too, Leo.”

Donnie inhales.

“I’ll even commit what the humans consider a ‘war crime’ if necessary, Nardo.”

Raph and Leo groan.

“Oh, that’s rich, Don. Pretending like you don’t know what a war crime is. As if you’d need the excuse of protecting your brother to commit one of those.”

“Ugh, fine, fine," he grumbles, petulantly.

“But thanks. I’ll let you know when I need a favor,” Leo quirks a grin.

Donnie smiles at the lights winking in his twin’s eyes.

“Of course you will.”

—

Casey stares down into the harbor, at the beating waves, at the roiling water.

Fitfully would be a nice way to describe how he slept last night.

He dreamt that he was on a topsy-turvy platform, one that buckled beneath his knees, constantly sending him sprawling in a sea of fog, never being able to see far in any direction. He dreamt of the younger turtles, all standing perfectly fine on their own pedestals, watching him with varying expressions he couldn’t decipher.

He dreamt that they were just out of reach, anytime he extended a hand for help.

It’s simple, straightforward, and painful.

Casey knows because he’s had this dream more than once.

What’s worse is that this dream isn’t something he can escape from upon waking—the dream describes how he feels, constantly. Adrift, unbalanced, alone—not in the sense that no one else is there, but in the sense that no one else can truly understand.

And now that all this weird shit has been happening…

Casey knows it’s more than just the empyrean that’s making his ninpo misbehave, sending him to a world he can never return to. He completely agreed with Donnie, even when everyone else acted like the guy was being insensitive.

But Donnie doesn’t know what Casey already suspects—what Casey think is messing everything up.

It’s his grief.

A single thought rises.

That thought takes him far, far away.

(i can’t do this alone.)

The words don’t hurt him—at least not so much anymore. But he will never shake the feeling of peering down this long, endless life, and knowing that the family that raised him is gone. Ever beyond his fingertips.

(grab a slice!)

Why was that the last thing Sensei said to him?

Why are goodbyes so stupid and hard?

(i did everything you asked and i still feel lost.)

Grief is a familiar friend. It knows its way around, leaves its shoes at the door. It puts the dishes away and fluffs pillows and sits with Casey, silent, unblinking. He rarely acknowledges it, in a way that is destructive and fiery and hurtful—the kind that wounds Leo, though he’d never admit it.

It never leaves, but sometimes—most of the time, almost all the time—Casey can forget about it.

Forget about the way it chokes his throat, burns his eyes, drops his stomach, and live.

But there was one day about a month ago, when he was sitting with Mikey at the kitchen table pouring over April’s laptop. 

(“At least show the guy the internet, Mike, don’t be an animal,” she’d said.) 

Mikey, ever unfolding random corners of this Krang-less world in a way so different from Leo, brought up a website describing those heart-wrenching, yearning, fringes-of-your-consciousness feelings.

One caught Casey’s eye, and never left.

It described far too well his reality—at least in most senses.

Dead reckoning.

Sensei’s presence was that lighthouse you could pass by for years until the night it suddenly goes dark; Sensei’s absence left him with one less landmark to navigate.

The weightless, alarming sensation of living in a time that is not his own leaves his future, his present like uncharted waters, and he wonders if it’s just him, or if that is how life feels without the ever-present threat of giant pink aliens.

I wish you were here to tell me, Sensei.

He couldn’t help the thrill that first ran through his body, as Leo spoke about the memory.

Can Sensei see me? Through his eyes? Could he really be that near?

A cruel, wizened part of Casey snaps, no you fool. Sensei is gone. Grasping at air leaves an empty hand.

His skull throbs in response, low and aching, another thing to carry with him. The stupid nosebleed from the other day, the rager building his head since their family meeting.

But Casey is a child of the apocalypse, and those things will not slow him down.

Casey sucks in a deep breath, letting the bite of the air sting his throat, cleanse his lungs.

These moods, these spiraling thoughts come and go like the waves beneath him, and he knows—with the same clarity he knows the sun will rise—that he’s got the turtles, his family, to swim through even the most turbulent of waves.

Especially Leo.

In spite of Casey’s misinterpretation of his words the other day, of the craziness of their discovery about the ninpo, of the impossible occurrences of Sensei’s memories butting into his, Leo has remained steadfast. Casey hears no complaints, no interruptions (unless there’s a perfect opportunity for a dad joke)—Leo listens attentively, attuned to the way Casey reacts.

Casey used to wonder where the patience to sit through his episodes, but he spends more time with the turtles—especially with Raph, it’s clear where Leo got it from. Leo, whether or not he realizes it, goes out of his way to absorb everything Raph does like a blue sponge, gathering his gentle, even-tempered mannerisms as if they are precious stones.

(he mourns for the way sensei would sometimes look out in the midst of a panic or problem in the resistance, searching for something, and never finding it.)

The sun shimmers on the water, blinding, sparkling. It cleaves the waves in two.

Casey sympathizes.

He feels cleaved in two, as well.

It rocked his world, more than he cares to admit, Leo’s revelation about his shared memories.

Ugh, why.

As if the situation weren’t already a complex web Casey struggles to extract himself from every day, this empyrean situation has gone and really made a mess of things.

(The footprint of Sensei fresh and raw and aching just behind Leo’s gold eyes.)

(The sai he will most definitely not be thinking about.)

(The Krang.)

His ninpo jerks and rears and scrabbles, desperate to get away. The world closes in on him, lost in a storm of swirling aquamarines that beg him to hide away.

oh the krang the krang the krang didn’t i pay enough didn’t i escape them didn’t we win finally i’m so tired i’m just so t—

“Hey, kid.”

Casey wraps his hands around the cold metal of the railing, grounding himself. He blinks sea-green from his eyes.

“Hi, Leo.”

The turtle hops atop the railing, balancing precariously above the waters below. Casey glares at him and his disregard for safety, but if anything, that only eggs Leo on more.

The water glitters. A seagull caws.

Casey has so many things to say and he has never had less to say.

It’s stupid, right? After last night, you’d expect him to understand the situation with Leo and the memories and everything that keeps coming back to bite, but there’s still something thorny and uncomfortable that lingers in the dark corners of Casey’s mind, but not so far in the shadows that he cannot see it.

He knows what’s been truly bothering him.

But does he have the strength to say it aloud?

Leo, as it seems, breaks the silence first.

“I thought it’d be a good idea to show up in some ridiculous costume, even add a fun accent, but I quickly realized that might not be the best idea,” he admits, head inclining toward a trashcan further away.

Casey winces at the…is that a cowboy costume?

(He shouldn’t know that much about cowboys, but…Todd had a moment in the apocalypse with them.)

(Don’t ask.)

Shivering, he replies, “Good instincts. Your British accent is sorry enough as it is.”

Leo narrows his eyes, darkly.

“You wanna tell me what’s bothering you?”

“Uh…no?”

He straightens, all comedy leaking from his body. His shoulders tense, an unnatural stillness settling. 

(Casey thinks that it is totally unfair whenever Leo uses his Lethal Fighting Machine mode to wring the truth out.)

(Leo thinks it’s smart.)

(It’s an ongoing debate.)

“You sure about that?”

“It’s stupid, Leo, don’t worry about it, okay?” Casey huffs, looking back out into the harbor.

“Nothing’s too stupid to talk about, you hear me? Case? I discussed the way pepperoni changes shape in a brick oven for an hour yesterday with Mikey—nothing is too stupid.

"Besides, you’ve got those gears working so hard in that noggin of yours that I can almost see smoke filling the sky. This is basic fire safety, Jones,” he insists with no small amount of mock-seriousness. The dumbass joke is just so Leo, Casey can’t help but crack a smile, savoring the outstretched arm he always offers.

He feels something wet on his face.

Distantly, Casey realizes he’s crying.

“I’m sorry Leo—I was fine, everything was fine, and then I started thinking about it too much.”

“Take your time,” he says patiently, watching the water with a serene expression.

“Well…” he mumbles, anxiety like a stone in his throat. “I, you see, the whole, ninpo thing—”

Casey breaks off, blush like a fiery brand. This is so embarrassing—why has he been acting like a child? Stubborn and unwilling to listen to reason? To even try?

He inhales, shame hazing his vision, leaving Leo and his uncomfortably understanding expression, open and awaiting.

“You remember how I told you I never saw Sensei—” his voice breaks. Dammit, this is way harder to say out loud.

A wave of comfort, familiar and sky blue, runs through him.

“I never saw Sensei use his ninpo, back then,” Casey continues, squeezing his eyes shut. “He didn’t need it—he was an amazing fighter. I wish you could’ve seen it, even though…that would probably mess up the space-time continuum. Anyway, he never used them and was still the badass leader of the resistance and I figured, I didn't need to either. And—and, now that I am, I…”

His eyes burn, tears rolling down, dripping onto his clenched fists. It’s just so…awful to talk about Sensei sometimes and he hates that he gets this way. Sensei was his father, a decorated war hero, a devoted brother, a bright light in a sea of darkness and Casey can’t even form proper sentences about him—can’t honor his memory.

“Now that I am, it feels like I’m abandoning another piece of him. Like I no longer have this thing in common with him.”

Casey bows beneath the pressure, inescapable weight of it all.

“What if I mess it up? What if he’s gone forever and—and—”

all i am is grief. all i have is grief.

Comfort, cool and gentle and safe, rises like the tide, enveloping him.

“Kid—Casey, breathe. Breathe,” Leo hushes, the weight of his hand on Casey’s back an anchor he follows back to the shore. “I knew something was up with that—hey, don’t give me that look, I know I’m right. You were thrilled about all this ninpo shit months ago, and that’s changed so much.”

Cringing, Casey looks up into gold, relieved and guilty.

“It’s not the memory episodes or the weapon—I mean, that’s kind of freaky—that I’m so bothered by. I’m terrified of doing something wrong. And you’ve always been so supportive—and after the other day, when you said I could always talk to the other guys, I thought the worst,” he admits, heart still thundering. 

Leo clenches his jaw, a muscle moving in his cheek, the hurt in his eyes not quite covered up.

“You know I’d never purposely hurt you.”

“Duh, Leo. You’d probably let me get away with murder,” Casey laugh-sniffles, rubbing the palm of his hand against his cheeks. “I know you didn’t mean it like that. That was just me being stupid.”

“Brat,” he tweaks Casey’s ear. “I’m sorry, regardless.”

“Case—look. I’m not here to tell you not to hurt or just move on. That stuff hurts. And grief’s a touch bitch. We’ve firmly established that I am not your Sensei, but…kid. They sent you back to save the world, sure, but save the world so you can live. I’m not saying you have to keep practicing your ninpo—if it’s too much, then don’t. But I don’t want you punishing yourself.

"You’re brave and loyal and worthy of this. You hear me? You are worthy of this. It’s like you’ve been holding your powers like they’re a baby bird for weeks, but Casey—you’re not gonna hurt your connection to the Hamato Clan, not going to hurt your Sensei.”

“Are you sure?” Casey mumbles, shoulders rising to his ears. Everything seems like such a lesser deal now.

“Your feelings and your experiences are a big deal, dude. Don’t be embarrassed. You’ve seen me at my worst. I would never blame you for this, never be weirded out.”

“I might get angry,” Casey warns. “It could get ugly.”

Leo grins at him, all unchecked fire. The edges of him line with blue, as he releases his hold on his powers.

They flicker and sparkle in the bright sun—a beckoning.

you can do it, jones. come on.

His headache recedes, abates.

“I’m ready for it. I know there’s a temper under there—you think I never fought against your mom? Stripes for life, Jones—not stripes until you get mad.”

Rolling his eyes, Casey tugs Leo’s mask, skewing his eye holes.

As his brother squawks indignantly, Casey laughs and replies, “Stripes for life.”

They don’t scare each other, they won’t turn their backs on one another.

Maybe I can do this, Casey thinks, as he plunges back into that sea of aquamarine. Sensei would think this is like, super badass.

caseyandleo are two sides of the same sword—sharpened by what would kill ordinary people.

“I’m sorry about the Krang,” Casey mutters into the harbor, stuffing his hands into his hoodie.

Leo sighs, heavy and choppy—not unlike the water below.

“It’s not that I don’t believe what I said earlier—I do. This is our family, and we can do this. We’re stronger together. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified. My knees won’t stop shaking, my mind won’t stop racing, my heart won’t stop thundering. I thought this was something I would at least grow out of…more, but I’m right back to where I started. Is it wrong to still feel like this?”

Casey hates how tiny the Krang make Leo feel.

“No,” he replies, so vehemently that Leo stumbles. “No, Leo. Sensei was one of the bravest people I’ve ever met, and he even told me that he was afraid every day—of losing us, of the Krang winning, of a thousand things that could go wrong at any minute. It’s not wrong to feel like that—there’s always something to be afraid of, but what ultimately matters is what you do with your fear.”

With something like awe shining in Leo’s eyes, he says, “Your Sensei would be so proud of you. Every day. You’d knock his socks off every day, and I’m sure you did back then.”

Casey laughs—a strained, bittersweet thing. Still…it feels good to talk about Sensei freely.

“He’d kick my ass in training the next day for all this emotional constipation,” he manages, facing that terrifying black wall of grief that becomes interested with any mention of the past.

Leo places a hand on his shoulder.

“As he should. I won’t but that doesn’t mean I don’t disagree. Now let’s get home. I’m a turtle boy out in broad daylight and fingers-crossed that Dee finally caved into pineapple pizza,” Leo shudders, unsheathing his swords carelessly.

“Gross, Leo. Fruit doesn't go on pizza,” Casey groans, flicking the side of his head, as they both go to stand, shivering in the dropping temperatures.

“Tomatoes are fruit, bonehead. You like pizza without sauce?” snarks Leo, all bark and no bite, mirth glittering in his gold eyes—beyond happy to see his brother cheered up.

“Of course you’re one of those ‘tomatoes are fruit’ people. I should’ve guessed,” he sneers back, rolling his eyes.

Leo throws his hands into the air, exasperation lining his features. (Casey can’t really tell if he’s still joking.)

“Casey. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“It’s the principle, Leo. I guess you wouldn’t understand,” Casey sniffs, turning away from the turtle.

“Fine. Here I was, about to offer you a first-class portal home. Instead I say, walk, bitch.”

Casey can taste the charging portal, a staticky shift in the air, and thinks with abundant clarity, I will certainly not be walking home.

“Oh no you don’t,” Casey barks out laughing, and with a running jump, tackles Leo as he begins to teleport out of existence, sending the two of them careening, laughing, free falling through that sparkling, blue pocket dimension to home.

~

Sometimes, Casey imagines the veil between him and Sensei is stretched so thin, it would take only the barest exhale to pierce it.

A pinprick of a headache blossoms in his temple, sending him flinching into Mikey’s shell.

Maybe he should stop with the flowery language. Or prodding at whatever flares up. He thought his cathartic conversation with Leo would’ve stopped this nonsense, but clearly not. 

“Dude, are you okay? Is it those headaches again?” Mikey asks worriedly, scanning Casey for any other warning signs.

“Yeah, maybe we’re near empyrean?”

Mikey chews his lip, eyes creased at the corners, “Hm…I don’t think so. I thought Don said that there was nothing left.”

The youngest turtle had met them here, in the Hidden City, after being dismissed by Draxum on whatever secret project they’d been working on.

(“I think he just wanted some alone time,” Mikey smiled.

“What do you think he does in there?” asked Leo, head tilted.

“Well, I found an old CD player, and inside of it was a Britney Spears album. So,” he shrugs. “Maybe dances? I don’t know.”

Casey laughs behind his hands at the horrified look on Leo’s face, the blood draining.

“I don’t need to think of Barry dancing,” said turtle cringes, covering his eyes.)

Currently, Casey, Mikey, Raph, and Leo are surveying the recent explosion outside of Witch Town, looking for any remaining signs of the Winged Terrors or the snake woman.

Literally anything.

Though it’s turned into…something else.

Casey chuckles to the scene unfolding before him. Leo’s out and about with a few children from the town along with Raph, laughing and twirling with them as they giggle at the strange turtle people near their home.

As he watches Leo pick up the child to place him on his shoulders, he can’t help but be thrown into the past.

“Astronaut Miko, to what reaches of the universe shall we venture to next?” he booms, stately voice charting the imaginary stars.

“To whoever needs us the most,” she calls back fiercely, a touching reminder to him.

“Then it shall be done!” Leo decides in his best Jupiter Jim impersonation, zooming off into the clearing, narrowing avoiding other children and yokai.

It’s a hilarious sight, really—Leo and his scars and the watchful blue dragon on his back, the fearsome champion of the Hidden City versus the loud, effortless laughs that fall out of him, the gentle care with which he swings the little swan girl around, allowing some of his ninpo to bleed through so as to infuse the air with glittery blue sparkles.

Casey imagines that’s what he looked like with Sensei, years and years and years ago.

Mikey sighs, sweet, round face gone wistful, gooey around the edges, as he watches Leo dance around with the young yokai. It’s the ever-shifting kind of facial expression that says that was me once—not mournfully, just…achingly reminiscent. 

(Casey wishes his feelings ended there.)

(Casey wishes he could say he’s more terrified about the Krang’s return than forgetting his old life.)

(Casey wishes he has better priorities.)

(But he doesn’t and talking with Leo about his grief has chipped away but a kernel of its raging sea.)

(He’s a fool to think he’d be right as rain the next day.)

Casey squeezes his eyes shut and imagines looping the blinding cord of his ninpo around his hands, holding fast as he dives deep into himself, pleading to a force he knows not.

Sensei—I miss you so much. And I’m so scared. I wish you were here.

He’d give up…he’d…

(would you sacrifice the younger for the old?)

(would you give them up for a ghost?)

Casey reels back, horrified. His heart wants to burst from his chest, beating wildly. From the ocean he imagines his ninpo, he no longer is alone. There are a pair of eyes, blinking out from beneath the waves.

No! Not in any lifetime.

He’d never. Casey misses Sensei but he’s no fool.

He doesn’t care if he’s facing the most terrifying spiritual force ever (which he might be)—Leo and Donnie and Mikey and Raph and April are his family and he will do anything for them. He will unleash that jagged, toothed, wild thing and fight for this life he’s carved out with the help of one turtle’s big fat heart.

I am scared and lonely without Sensei and them…but I am not selfish. Not foolish enough to be so hateful to my second chance.

(hm.)

Whatever that was…it seemed satisfied by his answer. His sea of green and blues goes quiet.

At his side, Raph snorts.

Initially, Casey thinks his brother’s laughing at his dark thoughts, his desperate pleas, his insides hot with shame.

But that wouldn’t make sense because this is Raph and he’s not even looking at Casey—he’s caught in his own memories as he watches Leo.

Raph begins to hum, a haunting melody that grazes at something deep within Casey—it yawns blearily, stretching its legs, shaking the age-old dust from its hide.

What is that? he searches, combing through echoes of the past.

Raph murmurs on, and Casey catches just a snippet of words—shining star…

The world comes to a screeching halt.

Images of a life—existing only in his mind, swirl across his vision, the playful joy of the mystic park, the turtles, the darkening sky lost to the sands of time. 

Casey sees himself chasing after Master Michelangelo’s trailing cape, lined in runes.

Casey watches himself wiggle in between Uncle Tello’s arms to watch his newest project.

Casey gazes at himself be twirled around in a circle by Sensei, giggling and shrieking, flying through the air, soaring with his favorite person.

A faint strain, Raph’s music weaves its way into the memories, guiding Casey up and away. 

He now stands in a dimly lit room, save for one purple nightlight casting a soft glow over Sensei’s features, as he crouches before a small, patchwork bed. A younger Casey blinks wide, scared eyes up, two tiny hands barely covering one of his own.

Casey remembers this.

(he was six, and the krang had just exploded into their old base.

they killed and slashed and maimed, and casey saw far too much.

“sensei,” his voice sounds, too heavy for a child. “i—i don’t want to go to bed, i’m scared.”

his sensei curls his fingers around casey’s hands.

“scared? my brave little warrior?”

a violent tremor runs through casey, tears gathering, mouth wobbling.

“hey, it’s alright. we're safe now, casey—we’re safe and all alive. i won’t let anything bad happen to you, squirt. do you think you could get some sleep if i sit right here?” he asks, settling down against the bed, resting his head near casey’s curled form.

trying and failing to drag his mind from the horrors of the pink aliens, casey shakes his head. he is caught in a swirling vortex of screams and anguish and the fear of being separated from his family.

“okay,” sensei mothers, burnished eyes searching his own. “well, how about this. i used to get scared—a lot, if you can believe it, but there was a song i once knew, and it always helped me to stop thinking about those dark, scary things.”

casey tilts his head, curious. pleased, sensei sucks in a breath.

“do not be afraid, my bright shining star,

your family is near, and will never be far.

and remember this too, for of course it is true.

wherever you go, i am always with you.”

lulled to sleep by the enchanting lilt of his sensei’s voice, a young casey succumbs to the exhaustion of the day with the barest smile, hands still on sensei’s own. sparkling threads of blue loop around the room—around this brief, single memory—)

Back in the present, Casey sings under his breath, a lump in his throat,

"do not be afraid, my bright shining star. your family is near, and will never be far…”

Raph’s reverberating voice, soft as a blanket, firm as a steady mountain, shifts ever so slightly into the fading memory of Sensei’s rich sound—one Casey’s now-throbbing mind barely clings to.

“and remember this too, for of course it is true…”

He looks over at Casey, affectionate green gaze, surprised yet glad to join in.

“wherever you go, big brother is always with you.”

Casey gapes at him, light-headed, carpet ripped out from beneath his feet.

“I’ve never heard that ending. You know this song too??”

Confused, Raph replies, “Um. Yes? Raph used to sing that to Leo all the time when he was little—when him and Don stopped sharing a room, because Don wanted his own lab, Leo had trouble sleeping those first few days. Or maybe weeks…”

He smiles to himself, laughter in his voice as he watches a now-grown Leo pretend to run away from the child. So much, there is so much Casey never knew about Sensei’s older brother, gone before his earliest memories, that he has learned in the past. “I haven’t thought of that forever. Wait—how do you know that?”

“Sensei sang it to me when I was young. He told me—” Casey's voice breaks, gripping his hockey stick to hide his trembling hands. “I remember he told me it helped him to stop thinking of dark and scary things. He would—would sing me to sleep at bedtime, even when I was being the worst and, ha, I would run circles around the base, making him chase me. I thought I’d forgotten,” he laughs incredulously, brushing a tear away. “Uncle Tello and Master Michelangelo—even Commander O’Neil would make fun of him for so many of the stupid things he would do to cheer me up or entertain me, but never this song. They knew it was something different.”

(he had never known.)

(never even came close to understanding what the famed, mysterious, unknown raphael meant to sensei.)

(what raph means to leo now.)

Raph used to sing that to Leo, so Sensei sang to Casey. Instead of being crushed beneath the horrible, phantom limb loss of a brother, Sensei yanked that memory of love away from Death and kept it alive in Casey.

Sensei really kept all those things precious to him so close, Casey thinks with a faraway feeling. Drifting. Numb. Shocked.

But above all, amazed. This family is crazy—their love for one another transcends time and space, folding in on itself to bloom somewhere else, be rooted in alternate versions of themselves and yet continue to beat on, familiar and known.

“I used to think I didn’t know you at all, and I’m sorry for all those times I would get so awkward around you,” he begins, shooting an apologetic look Raph’s way.

His big brother snickers.

“Raph gets it, you didn’t know him in your world.”

“No—no, that’s just it. I thought I didn’t know you, but…I do. In so much of what Sensei did—his songs and stories, he brought you to life the only way he could. Yours was a loss Sensei couldn’t bear, so he fought tooth and nail to make sure we remembered you.”

Casey hugs one of Raph’s massive arms, resting his head on a gently curved spike.

“You are, or were…ugh tenses—the greatest big brother to him. He loved you and—and mourned you every day. I didn’t understand at first, but I know you, Raph. Everything you do for your brothers is never missed—they carry you, in their hearts.”

Raph’s hand comes to rest on Casey’s forehead.

“Huh,” he rumbles, speechless. “Thank you, Casey. Raph gets so focused on taking care of these boneheads that he forgets that his younger brothers see him too.”

“Dr. Feelings has nothing else to add to this beautiful moment,” Mikey inhales, rubbing the tears running down his face.

They sit there, huddled together on the grassy hill.

And…

It all comes rushing toward Casey like a speeding bullet. The bright green skies, the ethereal flowers, the playful laughter of the children melting away as his mind pieces together a fragmented picture.

He gasps, shooting out of the turtle pile with hands outstretched, head swiveling around wildly.

My wish and Raph’s memory—it must be the empyrean!

“Woah, Casey, what’s wrong?” Raph cries as he clambers to his feet, mighty arms pushing him up.

Mikey wobbles, trying to keep his balance atop Raph’s shoulders.

“Your memory—the song! I know what triggered it.”

Raph guesses, voice rising at the end, “Um…a lifelong relationship as brothers?”

“That helps, definitely,” Casey agrees with a wry smile. “But I think it was triggered by an empyrean source nearby.”

I know because my grief makes the bad things happen. Not the good. Or…at least I think Raph’s memory was a good one.

That and there’s no headache to be found, Casey realizes, a hand pressed to his head.

“But that’s crazy. The twins said this was run dry!” Raph exclaims, searching around for that mystery empyrean.

Casey swerves out of the way, barely missing his spiked shell.

“Raph, I have literally no idea what’s going on. But I do know that empyrean messes with my memories of the apocalypse world, and my ninpo messes with yours. Leo saw Sensei, and maybe…you’re hearing something that Sensei loved. Even if it was just an echo,” Casey rushes out, hands before him as he tries to explain. His skin feels odd—humming with electricity. “I wished for Sensei to be here, and something spoke to me. And I think I impressed whatever it was, and then you had that memory. It can’t be a coincidence.”

“Isn’t empyrean what made your weapon all coo-coo bananas?” Raph asks warily, green eye searching. “How do we know crazy mystic thing won’t happen?”

“We don’t, but I don’t think this is like that. Raph, please. Trust me.”

His oldest brother remains skeptical, as if he is afraid of breaking the news to Casey.

(Casey’s well aware of this face, you see.)

(People often wore this expression in the resistance.)

(When yokai or humans didn’t return from a mission.)

(When someone succumbed to their wounds.)

(The day Uncle Tello died, Sensei had done his best to be strong for Casey, but he couldn’t help the heartbreak, the emptiness, the sorrow etched into his face like permanent lines.)

He gets why Raph’s holding back—every step they take, every decision they make, it draws them closer to the alien freaks that took Leo so close to the edge, he almost didn’t come back. Casey can see the worn-out fear, the exhaustion that follows Raph like a ghost—the responsibility he places on himself regardless of who the leader is. This isn’t some dinky mission against Repo Mantis’ frankly gross junkyard.

In the span of one day, this mission has become Life or Death again, and it hasn’t quite set in for everyone.

Casey counts the heartbeats it takes for Raph to come to a decision, shuffling his feet in the soft grass, willing his body to cease its trembling.

one…

two…

three…

Apparently, the sheer desperation in Casey’s voice worked some kind of magic, because Raph finally nods—approval like the sun on a winter’s day—and gets Leo’s attention, shooting off what looks like a red arrow towards the jumping turtle.

Raph’s voice unfurls with a mighty rumble, a tanker that parts the waves.

“How do you think we should start looking, then?”

“Mikey,” Casey replies firmly, already moving on to the next part of the plan. “You’ve got an insane connection to the mystic arts—surely you could try and…see the area? I don’t know.”

Leo arrives, slinging an arm around Casey’s shoulder as he waves bye to the Witch Town children.

“What did you say that’s got everyone’s feathers ruffled?”

Casey shoves at him, “Nothing, Leo—I think there’s empyrean nearby.”

“What?—”

Mikey hops down from Raph, interrupting Leo with a wave of orange energy.

“Could my future self do it?”

Leo glances between his brothers, his best Don’t Tell Me I’ve Almost Got It face on.

“I never saw him do anything like this, but I know you can,” Casey declares with a conviction that surprises him. “You’re talented and brilliant and creative. You’ll figure it out.”

“Thanks, CJ. Hooooooo boy, heere goes nothing,” the youngest turtle winks at him.

Mikey takes a couple steps away to kneel in the grass, legs tucked beneath him. Placing his hands, palms to the ground, he inhales and exhales, a steady rhythm that takes him far away from this dimension—to somewhere that the rest of them cannot follow.

(aquamarine knocks at blue walls.)

the way this guy didn’t even hesitate to start doing it.

(blue laughs—bright and echoing.)

right?

Gasping, Mikey’s eyes fly open, a bright, gold light pouring forth from them.

“Is that normal??” Leo whisper-yells, shaking Casey aggressively, gold flaring.

Raph sinks, crouching defensively around Mikey.

“Ow! Leo, I don’t know?? He isn’t screaming, though, so he’s probably okay.”

Leo rolls his eyes, muttering probably okay to himself before quieting—waiting for Mikey to speak.

Come on come on—don’t let this be a false lead…

“Guys—I see, I think I see something over there,” Mikey points, eyes still glowing with that blinding light. “Under that boulder.”

Raph races over to the stone in question, heaving it away with a grunt.

His expression whitens.

“There’s a path into the ground.”

“Where do you think it leads?” Casey asks, peering into the gaping hole.

No light emerges. No sound echoes.

Nothing.

With a second thought, he flicks his mask down to scan the area, thanking Uncle Tello for what feels like the millionth time for his Genius Built tech.

When he sees it, he flinches, jolting hard enough his knees buckle.

Raph and Leo are instantly at his sides—twin pillars to ward off the threats. A low growl comes from his oldest brother, threading through the tunnel’s darkness.

His voice is like a dull whisper in his ears—heart pounding and vision darkening at the edges.

“Snakes…snakes molt right?”

Leo stiffens as he sees the shed skin clinging to a root, drifting in a phantom breeze.

“Bingo,” he singsongs, equally faint.

“Guess you were right, Casey,” Raph admits, staring into the musty, dank tunnel. “But…Raph doesn’t like the looks of this. Why couldn’t we have a nice, friendly path through a garden to the empyrean?”

That’d be nice.

Mikey’s gleaming eyes narrow in thought.

“Wherever it goes, it’s to a lot of empyrean. I can barely stand to look at its signature. It’s…blinding.”

“Snake lady was here…but…how did she get all the way back to the Battle Nexus? Wasn’t she there the whole time? And where does this tunnel go?” Raph asks, questions after question, hackles raising at the plethora of new mysteries unfolding.

“Only one way to find out,” Casey shrugs, jumping into the passage’s beckoning darkness—stomach dropping as he plummets.

…

(casey thinks he hears sensei’s song.)

(he quickly dismisses it.)

(it’s just a weird memory.)

“wherever you go, i am always with you.”

…

(a trickle of blood falls from his nose, unbeknownst to him.)

…

(is it just a memory?)

Chapter Text

Casey plummets into the tunnel, a breathless laugh breezing out of him as his stomach cartwheels away, waving sayonara like the traitor it is. The burrow extends far deeper than it seems on the surface—of course it does, nothing ever is as it seems in this weird-ass place, he grumbles—and he keeps falling, wondering when he should be worried about hitting the ground, any ground. The curious and apprehensive sounds of his brothers faded away instantly, as if the Hidden City’s underbelly devours sound like a delicacy.

(one slitted eye pops open.)

(the human does not notice.)

Feeling lightheaded, Casey blinks several times in the growing darkness, peeling his mask back ever so slightly to allow himself room to breathe. It doesn’t help that the odd, musty air keeps shoving its way down his throat, the oppressively close walls reminding him you are small you are nothing you are just a speck in this cavern.

Casey removes his mask.

And he touches something wet.

Ew!

Wait.

It’s…blood?

His blood?

Damnit—another nosebleed already?

Distracted by the blood smeared across his face, Casey rubs and rubs at his nose, trying to get the worst of the mess away before the turtles see and freak the hell out.

(Because he knows they will.)

Almost finished with what he thinks is a good job, Casey slams into hard-packed earth, groaning as his bones bark, his head spins. His mask clatters out of his hand, bouncing off the now smooth, marble-like walls.

Should’ve used the grappling hook, he thinks faintly, thoughts barely strung together. Casey wonders if his teeth have been rearranged, his mouth rattling like a jackhammer. There, on the ground, he allows himself a few seconds to wallow, body singing in pain.

Leo is definitely going to make him practice landing drills when they get back.

Speaking of—where are they? Casey definitely should have heard the turtles coming by now, because he had not been falling for that long.

(a forked tongue tastes the air.)

(the human is near.)

Something long-fingered and unnatural runs a hand along his neck.

Casey yelps, the sound an arrow into the gloom. He turns back and forth, praying it was just some weird ninpo prank Leo was pulling on him.

Where are you guys?

Was it a bad idea to jump in, headfirst, with no other thoughts?

Maybe.

Casey isn’t willing to entertain that yet.

“…hello?” he whispers, looking back and forth. “Leo? Mikey? Raph?"

(the snake smiles, wide and wicked—fangs like a moonlit whisper.)

(the human should have said goodbye when he had the chance.)

In the end, Casey does not even have a chance against the tail that flicks out, snapping against his head quick and clean and brutal, does not even have a chance for his fear to bleed into terror—does not even have a chance to yell leo! before a true blackness stretches across his consciousness and he is no more.

—

Raph leans over the abyss, frowning slightly as he peers into the darkness.
“First jumper, Casey Jones,” he booms, crossing his arms in some smug-ass fashion.

Oh—did he really just—

Leo hisses at Raph, scrunching his beak, “I knew you liked Divergent. You told me you didn’t but I know what I saw left on the projector that one night.”

Shrugging, Raph replies sagely, “We will never know.”

“Dude, I knew it, I knew—”

Mikey pushes at Leo, sticking his tongue out.

This only enrages him.

Flames fan towards that part of him, the I Love My Family But Could Also Kill Them At Any Moment part.

He bares his teeth, batting Mikey’s stupid little hands away.

(leo, it seems, has forgotten all about his anxiety watching casey disappear.)

“Leon—don’t try to make this the same as when we found you crying, watching Breaking Dawn: Part II.”

Leo squawks, most righteously, cheeks growing hot. How dare they try and belittle that masterpiece. Of course he was crying—he just saw Carlisle die!

“Don’t try and put that film in a box—”

Raph and Mikey wheeze, “A film.”

His brothers hug their stomachs laughing so hard, and Leo prepares to really let them have it, rolling up invisible sleeves, when he feels…

(a lick of fear.)

Leo pauses.

(it is fleeting. surprised?)

“Did you guys feel that?”

His brothers have stopped, mid-taunt as well—looking for something that isn’t there.

Leo gazes into Raph’s milky eye for a heartbeat (Raph’s milky eyes which understands way too much), which turns into a heartbeat too long because Leo knows, Leo feels, that fear was sea-green and familiar, that fear was from Casey Jones, Casey who jumped into that abyss with no other questions Casey who is down there with the snake and is afraid—

Something cracks.

(no one notices.)

Something cracks and it sounds like a behemoth shifting, ancient and slumbering and brimming with power.

“Casey,” he gasps, his arms and legs alight with fear—oh that long-enduring fear, the one he felt when he looked at Raph trapped in the Krang’s thrall, the one he felt as Donnie and Mikey sailed across New York’s sky, the one he felt when his family swung along Big Mama’s puppet strings.

It’s an old friend and Leo wraps its iron chill around his bones like the horrifying reminder that it is—this is what happens when you let your guard down, this is what can happen on your watch.

His brothers alarmed voices and frantic gestures fade into nothingness, blurred out by the pounding of his heart, the roaring of his blood.

(red blooms across blue’s consciousness.)

leo wait—

Jokes forgotten, Leo races towards the tunnel and swan-dives into the earth, cutting through the musty air like a blue arrow.

casey hold on please!

~

Faster and faster he falls, a speeding bullet, whizzing past the hardening dirt, the cooling temperatures, the sparse roots and strange skeletons a haze.

Hold on Casey, Leo thinks desperately—a myriad of horrible scenarios running through his mind, as the seconds stretch long, far too long for his liking.

Without thinking, he lands with preternatural grace, body coiling into a defensive crouch. He’s got his katanas out—shining like moonlight—before he knows what’s going on.

(if every part of him weren’t drawn, taut as a wire in his panic, he’d notice the low humming in the air, the way his ninpo feels as though it is being emptied and it is being filled—leo would notice a greater, older, and more powerful presence has stepped onto the stage.)

(he does not.)

(all he hears through the roaring of his mind is hold. on. casey.)

He spins, searching for threats, diving further inward—sharpening himself into a blade. The parts of Leo that used to grow silent and lethal, that knew where things would go and fly before they went, that terrified his brothers.

Something pricks, a warning, at his side.

Leo jolts when he sees the circle to his left, carved into the wall with wicked precision. There, lines flowing, are four concentric circles, glowing in a green that says i am not like you i am not from this world.

No, he thinks, desperately. How can this all be lining up too well? There are too many coincidences—they keep unfolding another layer of the puzzle and dammit, they aren’t even trying that hard to do it.

The roaring grows louder in response to his panic. 

Crack.

Crunch.

Leo jerks, the odd sensation growing. 

For a second, the desire to find who’s behind all of this and make them pay nearly bowls Leo over, narrowing his vision, electricity coursing through his veins.

(To be completely honest, Leo didn’t think this would happen.)

(His plans all those months ago were a calculated risk, though.)

Leo decides to fight the wave a little while longer, clinging to his lucidity. He takes a couple photos of the runes, hating the way his stomach drops as he recognizes the symbols for “summoning” and “healing” etched across the marble’s surface. Still, no signs of clear struggle, or even a trail of the empyrean. Only the circle.

The longer he goes, waiting for his brothers, dreading their arrival, agonizing over Casey’s disappearance, the bigger the strain, the entrance on his body to give up and give in.

Oh pizza-supreme-in-the-sky, I should not have done this.

He digs his feet in and pushes back, against himself. He needs to be calm and cool—needs to keep his head to get his family back out and safe.

Leo has never been able to hold out, to withstand the numbing storm and immense strength and deathly calm. He has never been able to hold out, and he figures that this is a bad sign, that whatever is coming (whatever he has locked away) is worse and stronger and he’ll be a lucky, lucky turtle to walk away from this any time soon.

(but what was he supposed to do? the episodes were growing more frequent, more terrible, more difficult to hide.)

(he couldn’t live that way.)

But what if I get stuck like this?

Jaw clenched, Leo inhales shakily, mind returning to the Krang’s hateful smile and his family’s fear.

And he thinks, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

Green flares from the corner of his vision.

His head will split open.

The screaming will come.

But Leo fights—tries to fight, and he is beginning to forget why…

The wave grows and grows and grows, and Leo will be sucked into it, and he will never come out—

Faintly, he remembers that empyrean is what gives the yokai their power, Draxum’s voice bouncing off the walls of his mind.

Leo jerks away from the substance, well aware of the fact that his current problems do not need a helping hand.

Staggering a few steps away depletes almost all the energy he has left to fight what is coming. He is most definitely ready to admit this was a bad idea, that you can’t stop an ocean, you can only let the waves wash over you.

His shell grows warm and cold all at once.

A tiny voice inside him whispers, i’m sorry raph, i’m sorry mikey; a louder, angrier voice thunders, YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE DONE THIS.

Because when he thinks of Casey, caught or cornered somewhere, the shrieking in his ears grows louder and the invisible leash yanks him, and Leo is torn in two—a piece of paper tumbling in violent winds.

He turns and freezes.

It is Casey’s mask, discarded to the side.

Leo sees the blood smeared across it.

The blood spattered on the walls.

(the final tether snaps.)

(leo’s head sinks beneath the water.)

(everything is muffled.)

Crack.

Skreeeee.

It is the scrape of talons on shell.

It is the low growl of a creature in the night.

It is the roaring static of the prison dimension and the weight, the burden that Leo will always carry no matter how far he goes.

It is months and months of anger and fury and terror, condensed into a mighty wave that not even Leo thinks is safe. He senses the beast rearing up from behind him, wings outstretched, flaming eyes narrowed.

It is the dragon, stretched out across his back, that holds those moments of lethal strength after the invasion—those episodes of unbridled power that scared Leo’s brothers, that scared Leo’s sister, that scared Leo. The dragon that has buckled beneath the strain of Leo’s unadulterated fear for Casey’s life and sent all that vengeance and fury and rage bellowing forward.

And it may not be safe, but he opens his arms—unwilling to hold back any long.

The beast curls around him, scales and sun-kissed skies and steel.

Leo inhales and exhales, and something shifts.

That part of him, that is vengeance and death and rage, prowls forward, calling the shots.

And off to find Casey it is.

That part of him rumbles in agreement, even as his brothers land behind him.

—

“Leo, this isn’t the time to panic…” Raph begins, approaching him slowly with his hands raised.

It took until now just to stop falling, to find Leo in this dirty, musty cave. But... but something is wrong. And Raph doesn't need to be the oldest of four brothers (and counting?) to sense the shift into something a little darker, more dangerous. Stormy alleyways and blood crusted between the mountains of your knuckles.

There, between Leo's white-knuckled hands—Casey's mask. Splattered with red.

Raph doesn't quite recognize the tense line of his brother. But maybe there's still a chance to reel this back in.

That is, until his little brother turns in the lowlight. His gold eyes gleam, feline—predatory.

"This is not panic." Leo growls in a voice at once both undulating and odd. Nothing left of their joking, smiley brother.

(It might be too late to reel things back in.)

Raph levels a stare that could crumble mountains at Mikey. "You better start explaining."

A single green finger rises in the air as he opens his mouth, but quickly snaps it shut as Raph cuts in, "On second thought? Don't. Unless you aren’t going to give me some Leo-sprouted shit.”

The finger falls. Mikey shrugs sheepishly, doing a shitty job at disguising the iron-clad will he's sworn to a different brotherly code. He won't talk, not at least quick enough to handle the building nightmare.

Raph stomps over to Leo, hard enough that the walls of the tunnel shudder with his might. In all his otherworldly glory, gleaming with power Raph can only see out of the corner of his eye, breathing unevenly, swords—swords now in his hands, trembling with how tightly he's gripping them, Leo may be a real piece of work, but he's still tiny in comparison to Raph's bulk.

Big Brother Business replaces any flicker of fear, trepidation. Raph peers down his beak. "Leo?"

“Yes, Raphie?” And if that isn't a wild thing to hear out a voice that shifts and warps, preternaturally melodic, mystic power churning beneath his scales. 

The fire burning both gold and blue banks in Leo's eyes, a burst of understanding weaving between the flames. That's his brother, not living rage, nor a sword cut from fury, blinking back at him.

Somewhere deep inside of himself, a place he hides lest he upset his brothers, Raph sags with relief. It's enough to be happy that his brother is in fact not lost to the eternal darkness but is instead going through something else.

(Which is the new baseline for Doing Okay these days.)

(It’s better than being dead.)

It reminds him of when they were younger, and could hide more easily in Splinter’s robes—where he’d follow the sound of Leo’s soft giggles to the rustling fabric, and a pair of luminous eyes would peer out at him, laughing and gentle and sweet.

Raphie! he would shriek happily. You found me!

Feeling himself smile, Raph allows the tiny voice to guide him back to where Leo now stands before him. He sets a heavy hand on his shoulder, prickling at how small Leo still is, the bones of his collar very real beneath his fingers, but ignores that as he stares frankly into the older, tired gold and summons his award-winning I Am Your Big Brother aura.

"Do whatever you have to for Casey. But only for Casey. None of that batshit crazy out there. I don't care who or what we find." Even if it is the snake or a Krang. "We go in, we get the kid, and we're out. Donnie and April aren't here. We aren't on the top of our game. No unnecessary risks."

(red grabs blue by the collar.)

and we are having a talk about this situation later.

(something like guilt blossoms from blue.)

sorry to scare you, raphie.

(red sighs, patient and enduring.)

it’s alright, lee. go—do your thing.

Leo's grin is all wild wickedness and he disappears in a blue flash. Raph swears he hears a distant roaring—a dragon’s roar, flowing and rolling and cartwheeling through the underground passages. Freed, finally freed.

Years tick off his life. This kid is going to give him a heart attack.

~

“Wow, he is fast,” Mikey calls, sprinting alongside Raph down the tunnels, arms and legs swinging out in exaggerated movements as they approach a larger cavern.

Raph's stomach plummets even further than the Hidden City as he notices the congregation of Winged Terrors, teeming like one dark, hateful mass.

Leo rises from behind the Terrors like liquid shadow, utterly silent—nothing but glittering fury in his eyes, his mouth an unfeeling slant.

This must the beast that lives under Leo’s skin. The beast that awoke in the prison dimension—beaten and broken and furious.

The one Mikey wondered about so long ago.

Without the slightest hesitation, Leo spears into the gang, cleaving their forces apart beautifully, a knife in the water.

“You better leave some for us, big man!” Raph shouts so that he won't start screaming about safety. Throwing himself into the battle helps, too. In a matter of seconds, he's cleared the distance between himself and the Terrors, the cool metal sais woven around his fingers in their usual, comforting embrace, and he thinks he even lets out a whoop as red and orange surge forwards, past him and Mikey, bowling over at least a few of the yokai.

Momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer numbers, a bull yokai knocks him down good, with a one-two punch of his club and his horns, surprisingly quick for his size. Raph winces at what should be the bone-shattering impact of the weapon, blocking the blow with his arm guards.

Even Leo is sent flying backwards into the rocky wall, where he slams against it with unbelievable force. The kind that rattles the teeth of everyone in the room. Cracks shoot out like a lightning strike from the impact of his shell, and for a hair-raising sequence of heartbeats, it seems as though Leo has been permanently dazed, his eyes glazed, unfocused. Blue flutters, and goes dark.

The badger yokai chooses to strike then, tiny but sharp claws outstretched toward Raph.

The vision of Leo crumpled, unconscious has Raph letting out a lethal volley of punches seared with red, mystic and very much so real, so potent that once the yokai slams into the ground, she does not move again.

Raph almost feels sorry. Almost wants to pat her head. Then again, maybe not.

These are the Winged Terrors, after all.

A part in the swarming crowd reveals Leo still slumped against the wall. It takes years of willpower and self-control not to break away from the fight and rush to Leo's side, but that's usually when the worst of injuries happen. When any of them are distracted by the other, who nine times out of ten, can get the hell back up.

And in the end, there's no need for panic.

Blue flickers, revving before Leo shifts with a groan.

It attracts a pair of Terrors that begin advancing toward him, claws scraping against the ground as their glee builds.

Blue shines. Bright, brighter.

The side of his head tingles and Raph ducks, letting a well-aimed kick go wide, still watching, still waiting to see Leo rise.

That is, until he groans again. Coughs out something wet and dark.

Blood.

It’s blood.

Good grief.

Leo coughs blood, hacking it up like the best of them. It fans out in a dark spray against his hands, the stone below.

Raph stares and stares, the yokai who'd missed stalking closer and closer. If Leo can’t get up, he’ll go over and he’ll handle this. But he knows Leo—this Leo, toothed and armed and dangerous, will be angry if big brother tries to fix it.

Trust him, he tells himself. He can do this.

Just as Raph thinks he can't wait any longer, Leo gets back up. He wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth, hand balled in a fist.

And he grins, like a maniac, like a gold-eyed demon—one who walks between spaces and carries a pair of swords. One this world isn't quite sure what to do with, yet.

Raph blinks.

No Terrors remain.

What?

Raph blinks harder, unable to comprehend what the hell just happened.

One moment, he was holding the fish-man and a chicken-yokai in each fist, both of them having snuck up on him, ready to club their heads together until they forgot their own names. The next? Nothing. Nothing but a thundering jet soaring past his ninpo.

He gapes. Had that been Leo?

The brother in question stands with his moonlit swords just listing downwards, panting. Gaze locked on nothing.

Movement catches Raph’s eye: Mikey has moved to a new ledge, crouched like a cat ready to pounce with his nunchucks out, ready to attack.

Before him, one Terror—a small, actual cat, remains. She's unhurt, instead curled up beneath a fallen member. Orange stripes, like a tabby prowling the city streets above, line her coat, her weapons long discarded, cast out of reach.

“Please,” she begs, trying to make herself smaller. Her paws scrabble against the floor, pushing herself into shelter. “Please.” Pale purple eyes widen considerably as Raph and his brothers draw closer. "Not all of us wanted to go along with her." She gasps at the awful weight of the entirety of Leo's attention on her. He needs nothing else, no weapons, no threats. Only that terrible gaze.

The cat continues, desperate. “She—she had some kind of spell or power, and it made us follow her. Do as she wished. Some of us obeyed her willingly, but not all of us.”

And that... complicates things.

Now that he can recognize the change, Raph watches as the cat's colors return to her, as though the dark magic no longer stifles her. The poor thing looks unbearably grateful, tears springing into her eyes.

Raph wishes it were as easy as blinding marching on, picking off the Winged Terrors and the rest of those aiding the return of the Krang one by one, sparing nothing and no one, but he can’t. If there are truly yokai out there, terrified and bespelled, he cannot in good conscience, wipe them away as he would do the Krang.

There is a line. One they all know.

Even Leo, whose shoulders tense, fractionally.

(if there is one thing in this world that leo cannot bear, it is those enslaved.)

(those preyed on, those too weak to defend themselves.)

(it lights a new flame in leo.)

(raph hopes he stokes it well.)

Firm, though not unkind, Leo asks a not-question.  "Where is he."

The cat shakes so hard that when she opens her mouth, nothing comes out.

Leo inhales. That ancient, great force thunders past them, rattling Raph’s bones.

Blue and angry and merciless; it will be the yokai’s only warning.

(Raph knows better than to get in Leo’s way right now.)

(But they are going to have a huge talk later.)

A katana flips over and over in his hand. Flashes, like the dangerous thing it is. "Time is of the essence."

"There." The cat points with a small, trembling paw. "That tunnel, she took the human boy there. To... to the Crying Titan."

Raph's head snaps toward the path they'd missed earlier, before starting as he realizes Leo is now only inches away from the cat.

"This leads to the Crying Titan?" How can his voice be so quiet, so muted, and yet fill the entire cavern?

The yokai nods furiously, a few tears leaking out, streaking down her orange fur. Everything about Leo seems to terrify her.

And then, the impossible happens.

He bows his head to suck in an unsteady breath. Tension bleeds from his shoulders. And he offers a hand to help her up.

Out from the lethal fighter comes Leo. The big heart he tries so hard to hide.

“I was ready to wipe your entire shitty club right off the map," he admits, the intensity of the sentiment hilariously absurd in his normal voice. "But I understand—and thank you for telling us. I won't forget this. When it's all over, and trust me." Leo straightens. "It will be over because we end it, I will remember the ones trapped against their will. And I will spare them." His face darkens. “But no one else.”

Despite himself, Raph shivers.

(orange pokes red’s brain.)

why does he talk like he’s a medieval knight?

(red shrugs, hiding a smile.)

raph has no idea. must be part of the badass murder ninja package. 

Mikey fights to maintain a straight face, pressing his lips together. Always—their baby brother can always bring some sunshine even to the darkest mission.

“Understood, blue one." The cat bows, unexpectedly.

Leo blinks, the only indication that he's surprised.

"Let's roll." He raises one shoulder casually to Raph and Mikey, blurring down the tunnels once more, blue sparks trailing desperately.

—

Just like the orange cat had said, Leo and his brothers arrive at the Crying Titan, emerging somewhere near its foot as they quickly scan the area for any sign of Casey.

There’s no way I’m going to find him, even like this, worries Leo, raking their surroundings like a hawk. He could be anywhere—the snake could be doing anything—NO—

A sound pierces the air. Curdling.

And there, struggling against the uneven surface of the Titan's curled arm, is a tiny human form.

Leo throws his sword at the statue’s beard, and reaches out for Raph and Mikey, so that they can get a better vantage.

What he sees, what he hears curdles Leo’s blood.

Casey is screaming, pulling at the chains linking his hands as hard as he can. Some kind of muzzle is wrapped around his face, but it does nothing to dim his utter terror—he continues to shriek into its metal, the sound begging for help.

Leo’s ninpo approaches him—far too quickly, and careens into an unintelligible mass of swarming fear and panic. Calm, Leo needs to remain calm, when Casey needs him—not just as freaked out as he is.

(blue pierces through the thick cloud surrounding aquamarine.)

kid—kid breathe. i’m here, i’m here!

Shocked by his own levelheadedness, Leo continues to speak into Casey’s mind, trying to draw his attention out.

Casey’s eyes are dark and wild, blinking at his rapidly.

(aquamarine reaches out for help, but is dragged backward.)

collar—collar—COLLAR sensei, the co—

His thoughts are silenced, muffled by another wave of that oppressive force.

Collar? Leo wonders, scanning Titan’s body. He squints at where the serpent now drags Casey toward the vibrating dais, where something…

Shit.

He was talking about a literal collar, one that’s obviously been made of Krang matter. Disgusting, pulsing, pink goo fashioned into a necklace that’ll do the job the Krang have always wanted—total enslavement, total control. The hateful things are tucked into the lower parts of the Titan’s hand, the very hand that the snake woman is dragging the kid toward, up the raised arm.

(terror—pure, undiluted terror keeps aquamarine under its thumb.)

Casey is sobbing—from relief or fear?—still fighting as hard as he can. The serpent marches on, oblivious to Leo and his brothers, ready to follow through with whatever horrible, nefarious plan she has concocted in the Hidden City’s underbelly.

Leo sees red.

He takes a step through time and space, graceful, shedding one location like a second skin.

Flying out from nothing, Leo rams the butt of one sword into her serpentine face, propelling her away away away from the kid, tail tumbling over herself—a savage snarl ripping out of his mouth. Skidding to a stop, swords up and angled at her, Casey safely tucked behind him. Spitting out a mouthful of…something, the snake woman glares at Leo, lips curled back in a sneer of her own, hostility and darkness radiating off of her like waves.

“Sensei?”

Leo glances behind him, and.

What.

Now that he’s got a good close-up, Casey’s eyes—holy shit—Casey’s eyes are bright green, the color of empyrean.

What, what is it, what’s wrong—talk to me, he frets, searching the kid for any recognition of what’s going on.

Nothing.

Face, blank besides the fear.

Leo does nothave the time to bring him back to this world right now, but…he can stand upright, so. That’s the new baseline.

Figure out how to get the kid out and safe, he decides in the midst of his swirling rage. We’ll figure out the rest later. Just have to free him now.

Right on time, Mikey and Raph clobber the snake with twin forces of brute strength and whipping chains, swinging her up and around into the Titan’s middle, the crunch of stone brutal and utterly deserved. They leap off the arm, fearlessly, diving down gracefully to collide with the serpent woman once more. Red flares and orange sparks dazzle the cavern, shining brilliantly in the midst of the place they once fought the Shredder, the place that once bowed down to the Krang.

Good, Leo thinks.

Let them bring this place down.

Focusing back on Casey, Leo picks up the metal shackling Casey—staring at its odd sheen. Nothing a mystic sword can’t take care of.

Right?

He is about to bring his katanas down on the chains circling him, when runes flash bright and dangerous—digging into Casey’s arms.

The kid yelps, thrashing some more, green eyes darting around.

Leo swears colorfully, drawing a raised brow from Raph as he battles the snake woman.

(blue rolls his eyes.)

if the situation ever called for it…

(red raises a white flag.)

i know, i know.

His baby brother is in the middle of slamming part of the Titan’s chipped off face into the serpent, groaning when the woman merely punches through the rock, unscathed.

“Mikey—you’re up!” Leo yells, voice leaping throughout the cavern. He glances down at the vicious fight between his brothers and the serpent, hisses and yells, red and orange and green sparks flying around chaotically. “This has got some weird-ass mystic stuff, and you know I’m no good with it!”

(blue links arms with orange and red, gritting his teeth.)

switch with me in three.

One.

Mikey loops his chains, shimmering and strong around the serpent, spinning around to gather speed.

Two.

He sends her careening upwards, uncontrollably, buying them valuable time to reorient themselves. Even Leo whistles at the force with which Mikey hurtles the snake woman, the way she becomes a tiny pinprick.

Three.

Raph lunges toward Casey, wreathed in his giant projection, grabbing Mikey along the way. At the same time, Leo flips off the platform, sailing through the air to land where his brothers once were, sinking into a deep crouch.

His left leg twinges with an old pain, whispering dark memories.

The serpent lands, spiderwebbing cracks shooting out from her scaled legs, her long tail. She flicks out two taloned hands, razor-sharp—they could carve through a shell like warm butter.

A shiver worms its way up Leo’s shell.

He bets the dragon painted there would shudder, if it were alive.

The snake woman hisses, low and menacing, its sound curling in Leo’s ears. She begins to coil, drawing her strength, her wits, her hate.

Leo bares his teeth back, katanas angled dangerously.

He has drawn a line, unseen to any eye but his own.

It separates his siblings and the snake.

The Titan’s leg from the Titan’s arm.

He will not back down an inch. Will not cross that line.

The serpent smiles wickedly.

She can see it.

“Territorial, are we?” she purrs, forked tongue cleaving the air.

Shooting her back a grin just as wicked, just as wild, Leo hums, “A little.”

For his brothers, he will not yield an inch.

Crossing his swords, Leo sinks into a defensive stance, ninpo like a wide, open, sunburned sky—bright and thrumming and ready to go down swinging.

“You think you can take me on, alone, boy? I chose this form for a reason,” the snake woman snarls, fangs sharp sharp sharp. “I am no snake yokai as you like to think. I am a naga…”

Leo heaves a great, internal sigh.

For the love of—Leo will pay for villains to attend a seminar on Succinct Speeches And Why They Are Vital To Keeping Your Adversaries Engaged.

Tuning her out, he lets a whisper of ninpo soaring towards the upper reaches of the cavern, brushing against the spikes hanging precariously.

(blue peers over orange’s shoulder.)

how are we looking angelo? i’m running out of time…

(steady and determined, a mountain towering over the storm, orange hums.)

done soon. a—few more—minutes.

Despite the confidence and assurance in Mikey’s voice, the strain, the pauses in his words say this is tough and i am nearing the end of my powers.

Leo returns to where the snake, or naga, as she so proudly calls herself, is still. Talking.

“…when your pathetic planet was learning how to walk. The naga are swift and strong—poisonous as one hundred adders and ancient as the seas.”

He yawns, audibly. "Long-winded way to describe an old-ass bitch."

Yellow eyes flare with rage.

“And yet your brothers were unable to leave a scratch on me.” The naga-Krang waves a taloned hand over her shining green scales. Pink pulses between them like Donnie's lab when he's got that synthy, bass kind of music on. "But for you, Blue Warrior, I reserve the worst part of that naga. We are ferrymen of fear, and I will rip apart your mind before you even lift a finger.”

Leo frowns at that. Sounds... serious.

(it also explains casey’s violent reaction to the chains, april’s frightening medical scan.)

(those are things not to be ashamed of then, and never now.)

Dread lashes up his spine, as though preparing him for what's to come. He grips his swords, the wraps fitting into the grooves of his hands.

Not a second too late. She opens her mouth, wide, like way too wide. Even for a mystical snake demon lady thing. It unhinges her jaw and everything, her face blooming like a flower (the world's ugliest flower) to reveal rows and rows of wicked teeth lodged randomly in weeping gums, foaming with venom.

Her dental insurance alone should be the nightmare, Leo laughs to himself.

He stops laughing the second the sound—

Leo swears hard enough that if Raph were next to him, he'd probably cuff the back of his head.

He doesn't care. The sound is awful.

Grating. Horribly loud. Think one thousand pots and pans clanging together, a fire alarm right outside your bedroom waking you from the best dream, his dad singing his horrible rat-man ballads—the lair when S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. took over and blasted that cheer for Donnie over and over and over.

Leo braces himself for the next wave, the fear, the crippling agony that had taken both April and Casey down. Teeth-gritted, feet planted.

He watches it crest up and over, having blinked his ninpo into place, the mystic realm a storm of energy and colors and...

What?

It comes, yeah, but, like, super slowly. A gnarled thing that leaps up and over the screaming naga, a shadow much larger than her. A wash of mind games, filled to the brim of illusions and nightmares, wastelands and toppled empires, toothed blackness and unblinking eyes, creeping closer and closer, and just as Leo thinks maybe he should brace himself, the magic just... doesn't do anything.

He blinks. Looks left and right.

What the hell?

Leo looks a little more closely at the writhing storm.

And... well. To be honest, it's nothing he hasn't seen before. He isn't afraid.

Leo inhales a little too quickly, sharply, awarding himself with a head-rush.

I'm not scared. I'm not scared. I'm... I am not afraid.

The world falls away, or freezes. Dims. That single thought coats his spine like steel straight from the forge, hot—hot enough to stand ram-rod straight, jaw set, locked on only one target. The best kind, too. The kind that underestimates him.

He could laugh, or worse, cry. The Krang thought she could terrify Leo, but she's too late.

She's eleven months and sixteen days too late.

Leo leans dangerously on a sword. "Is that it?"

The naga stops abruptly, the echo of her scream still bouncing around the cave. Loud enough that even the Titan probably wishes he could cover his ears. She stares at him, taken aback.

“How are you resisting this?” Her tail lashes against the ground in an agitated pattern, kicking up dust and small pebbles.

“What, your cute little mind trick?” Leo chuckles, wrinkling his beak. He leans even further, letting a slow smile overtake his features. “Did you really think that would work on me?”

He begins walking toward her, purposely dragging his blades against the Titan’s leg to draw sparks. Making his own terrible sound.

"You must remember, since you're so fond of that whole Blue Warrior schtick." Leo quirks a brow. "I went into the prison dimension with your ugly-ass brother, you hag." Closer and closer and closer he approaches. Visible doubt begins to line the naga's long, coiling body. Leo tilts his head just enough to show her everything churning beneath the fine veneer of calm. The naga falls utterly silent, and his blood begins to thrum, brighter and stronger. "I was trapped in there with him for hours. There is nothing you could throw at me. Nothing you could do to show me fear that comes even close to that," he snarls in a voice that is many, letting himself fall back into the rage that's always there, the lethal instincts he can't quite shake, as though it were nothing but his own bed behind him.

Leo doesn't need to look to know that his brothers have been brought to their knees beneath the weight of the naga's screams, their minds slowly being shredded by whatever terrors she's woven together. He doesn't need to look because he can see their ninpo scattering and reforming under constant duress, splashes of color skittering across a great wind pushing them in all different directions, never quite able to come back together.

And as he sinks near the bottom of the raw emotion, Leo doesn't let himself chicken out at the last minute, buck against the sheer power of it all. No, he throws himself into it, marveling at the way his ninpo twines with the darker parts of himself to bring out something entirely new and dazzling and untamed.

With one single thought, he's moving, leaping up into the air, teleporting until he's right there, inches from the naga's crinkled, snarling face.

"I am what you made me," Leo hisses, and slashes his swords down down down.

A burst of green energy swells and spears for him. Too slow. Leo disappears in a flash and steps out behind her in a sickening whirlwind, carving a katana deep into the wall of her spine.

No holding back.

More of the green liquid pooling around the Crying Titan leaks out.

Empyrean.

His stomach plummets. Bitch really is the Sister.

Leo would've settled for a clone, even a pathetic imitation for the bit, but the bright green keeps his gaze in a tunnel vision. There's only one place that shit comes from, and it's the Krang.

She's missing the pink tentacles and the oddly quick strength her more... rectangular alien form had. And Leo just, like, doesn't need to know the finer details about how she stumbled upon an ancient snake person and you know. Became a bodysnatcher.

Need-to-know basis. Leo can compartmentalize like the best of 'em.

And if there’s more of this naga nonsense running around North America—New York, well, he doesn’t want to know that either.

He loses himself in the familiarity of the fight. Leo parries and slashes and strikes, faster and faster, delighting in the way the world becomes a blur and yet moves around him in slow-motion, the scene falling into place. He flicks a hand and one sword goes spinning, Leo melting into a flash before stepping back out from nowhere, nowhere at all, to take the place of the katana, clipping off the end of the spear-like tail.

His body is a machine, a finely-honed weapon. It knows what to do faster than Leo can think, fluid movements graceful and deadly.

It's a testament to the Krang's unnatural power that not even Leo in this heightened state has a full leg-up on her. They both manage to wound the other. Leo hacks off her scales brutally enough to make her shriek, a few new scars running down her face. The snake digs her claws deep enough into his calf that a yell shatters out from him. The tattoo makes it just barely an evenly matched fight, one that Leo can keep up with where his past self was crushed into a pulp. 

But the sharp ache in his leg slows him, takes Leo down a notch from the blow-for-blow, quicker than sound, speed. He throws everything he has into hiding it, teleporting faster, favoring it, never standing in one spot long enough to let himself actually wince.

And it's only a matter of time before the naga, the Krang, senses the building weakness. She's got thousands of years, knowledge, fighting, everything on Leo, and he won’t make a dent on her anytime soon.

Through the blood-mist haze, turning the stone beneath them slick, Leo remembers Raph's words. No unnecessary risks.

He's here so Casey and his brothers can escape. He's here for time.

(red and orange line his arms and legs, saying—stronger together.)

His ninpo lets out one, two, three proud roars. At its best, its purest, the kernel of light and love, his ninpo is to protect his family.

He grins through the pain. Leo knows he can be quite the distraction.

The snake's face transforms into the picture of revulsion, disgusted by his smile, ready to wipe it away the same way you pluck a thorn from your side. Quickly, plenty irritated. He smirks even more. Leo can work a lot with that.

He rotates his wrists, katanas whirling in slow, rhythmic circles. A waving red fabric. The center of a bulls-eye. Stoke the flames, stoke the rage.

The naga coils, then swift as a shooting star, gleaming fangs out she pounces. Years of training have Leo falling back onto a hand—everything suspended in time—before he's slicing out with a sword, the bone connecting hard enough that he can't help but let out a small laugh at the sound of a tooth clinking on the ground. Actually, a few teeth, followed by a horrified hiss.

At some point, Leo takes a chance and dives in a perfect arc from above, his katana angled for the removal of One Fresh Snake Woman. He'd been hiding in his pocket dimension, wrapping darkness and mystic energy around his body, savoring its coolness against the bruises and scrapes he hadn't had enough time to begin feeling, plotting when and where to reappear.

And it probably would have been a good idea, you know, if the naga had been… literally anyone else.

She darts out of the way as though she were expecting it, talons digging into the Titan. But when Leo lands a few feet down from her, not bothering to hide his panting, he starts at how her yellowed gaze perfectly tracks his brothers' retreating forms.

An unnatural smile stretches wide across her face, green rippling down her scales, body literally shaking from her sick glee.

“He screamed for you, insolent pest. I wonder who he will scream for when I wipe you from memory.”

“Funny." Leo sinks into the ground, a portal shimmering beneath his feet. To her left, he emerges, landing a neat, nasty kick right where he'd managed to cut deeper than the first layer of scales. She screams as he snaps, "He didn’t mention you once.”

(they both know he talks about the krang rotting in hell.)

Her shriek is enough to make Leo's vision go white for a moment.

Ears begging for mercy, when he comes to, there's a red projection of a fist waving far off, desperately trying to grab his attention.

“Did you have to be so petty?” Raph calls out, laughter laced in his tone. Up near the Titan’s clenched fist, Leo notices a freed Casey, and his heart removes itself from his throat. Shaken, pale, but free.

(blue hurtles toward aquamarine on a phantom wind.)

casey—casey are you okay?

(aquamarine can only lean against blue, laced with green.)

He's okay. He's okay. Leo decides, locking his worry away somewhere it won't distract him from the Krang. Because phase two of their slapdash, Fight The Snake Lady And Save Casey And Also Maybe Land A Debilitating Blow On The Krang Hopefully? needs to begin, like, yesterday.

Exhaustion wears at his thoughts, though not enough for one risky plan to weave a trap, one that'll give him the time to slow her Potential Invasion II down. 

Until—

Bad bad bad idea to stop and think—she's got Leo pinned against a sharp groove in the stone like a butterfly, pushing and pushing with her strong tail. His swords are useless in the close confines, his arms unable to maneuver them in any damaging way, or even to escape. He's a close-combat guy in short bursts, not... not like this. 

Leo does his best not to think of how the stones grinding into his shell are similar to the prison dimension—the Krang crunching him slowly in hell.

(It doesn’t work.)

He gasps as she wraps a clawed hand around his throat, tight enough to break the delicate scales there. He scrabbles for a handhold, a foothold, anything. He wants to swear or snarl, because, duh, he knows better than to be caught off-guard, and the frustration has him roaring, lethal instincts refusing to give up, to back down. Even exhausted, injured, as he is, they won't stop him from fighting, struggling shifting into weakened squirming.

Her hot breath washes over Leo’s face, and every cell in his body begins to shriek, lit on fire. What does she brush her teeth with???

Just as he begins to choke, dark spots waving hello at the corners of his vision, he prickles slightly, the barest warning and—

Leo cringes down and away at the same time a stone, a smooth and sharp-edged stone, sinks cleanly into her eye in almost slow-motion, burying itself in the organic matter like one of Donnie's spiraling drills, followed by the tell-tale squelching sound of nothing good. One perfect shot.

(leo laughs at the irony of the sister losing yet another eye.)

A ferocious wave of aquamarine nips at the heels of the rock, but Leo already knew that could’ve come from one human only. Light bends and warps around the kid as he sucks in deep breaths, gripping his hockey stick fiercely—and angrily, so very angrily.

Leo lets out a whoop so loud it makes him dizzy.

"Hell yeah Casey!”

The naga is nothing but a meteor plummeting from space, the force of the stone as it drilled into her skull sending her body hurtling into the lake surrounding the Crying Titan's ancient lake, a gargantuan splash glowing with empyrean arcing high in the air.

She’s down for a count, he decides, hurrying away into a portal, not wasting a second.

—

Casey, now free of the chains and the suffocating muzzle, breathes and breathes and breathes, the stuffy air of the cave suddenly transformed into the purest, cleanest air from the arctic north.

The empyrean continues to pound through his bloodstream, the snake—or naga’s bite, his muscles seizing to a rhythm that only he can hear.

“…case—”

“……h..eear….us?”

Vision slowly clearing, Casey lifts his head towards Raph and Mikey’s vague forms, as they carefully approach him, with arms ready to catch him.

Mikey’s leaning heavily on Raph, orange spluttering out like a snuffed flame now that Casey’s restraints are no more, the runes melting away. His heart softens at the concern on their faces—these turtles aren’t important to him because they are Leo’s brothers, but because they are his brothers.

(swallowing happy tears, aquamarine sinks to a knee.)

thank you thank you thank you—

(as one, orange and red lift him up, echoing—always, brother.)

Wait.

Where's Leo? And did he call him... Sensei?

Casey shudders.

Mikey points to below as if to answer his question, where blue flashes and arcs and thrashes further down the Titan's body. A lightning storm atop the giant's knee, taking out chunks of the statue in two's and three's.

One minute, there's Leo beaming up at him. Bright gold eyes shining true from his overpowered state as Donnie so dryly puts it.

The next?

Less... less good.

Nothing but a butterfly pinned to cork, the snake seizes the opportunity formed by his distraction and has Leo down with a punchy burst of strength that takes him off-guard, enough that he can't move, not even as his feet scrabble against loose rocks and his hands dig into the statue at his sides.

Something begins to build.

Casey sees the way his brother threw himself at danger without the slightest hesitation, the way he put everything on the line to face their hereditary enemy again just so that their brothers could squirrel Casey away, the way he's been using the power that terrifies him knowing full well it's the only thing keeping the naga from attacking the rest of them, the way he's still fighting even when the tides have shifted so obviously in the other direction, and it still isn't enough. It still wasn't enough.

He seethes, burning and the second he finds a pocket through the venomous fear, one pocket just large enough for enough of him to jump through, Casey takes it. He leaps through and now, out on the other side, the world sharper in focus, he finds his every thought is lined with a cold, clean, calculated kind of earth.

One arm extends. Casey keeps his eyes trained on the naga.

His hand grasps nothing.

A whisper of power twines itself along his arm, warming the skin as it goes. Sluggish at first, waking up from the snake bite, it takes a few seconds to build and build and...

The next series of events happen in snapshots.

A hockey stick slams into his grip.

Casey kicks up a stone, the nastiest he can find.

As the rock suspends midair, he cocks him arms back.

He doesn't have to look at the naga to know his aim is true.

Casey strikes the stone, body twisting in perfect coordination, harder than he ever has before.

(He swears that he sees an aquamarine sparkle swirl around the streaking stone, guiding its path down a mystic path, lined with family and protection and love.)

Supernatural senses has Leo wrenching himself away, covering his face an instant before the stone spears neatly through her right eye, the matching blow to April's calling card on the alien. The force of the hit knocks the snake all the way off the Titan’s knee and into the black waters, washing away the wretched scum she is.

Good.

Casey burns and burns, and it might be his ninpo eating away the venom, but it also might be his rage, tempered by his smugness, sharpened by his family. 

Which, speaking off... he has a hell of a lot of things to tell them about the snake.

The Sister.

—

Leo emerges from a pocket of space to rejoin his brothers. Up here, in the crook of the Titan's wrist, he scowls at the hateful dais as he tucks his katanas away, scowls at the terrible place filled with terrible things made by a terribly alien. The colors gleam with unseen light, thrumming with the telltale pink substance that's just waiting for its next victim, to open up a host of jaundiced eyes and sink their teeth in.

Mikey glows as though he's just emerged from a forge, the air around him hot enough that it wobbles and shimmers. It doesn't take a genus to know that his little brother's mystic expenditure takes the form of swallowing the sun itself, but Leo swallows down his guilt, knowing the work still isn't done.

With two flicks of his wrists, he's holding a couple throwing knives he'd knocked off the Winged Terrors. A quick scan of the Titan tells him what comes next. And no, thank you very much, he's no Donnie, but Leo can do quick maths and finagle a bit of physics on the spot.

It'll hurt like hell and he'll probably wish he hadn't done this when he wakes up tomorrow, but... 

"Leo? Big man? Wanna tell Raph what you're doing?" Raph hisses at him, flapping his hands in a clear the train is leaving NOW gesture. "I'm not trying to cramp whatever style you've got going on, but just in case you forgot, time is of the essence!"

Leo drags his leaden, hurt leg beneath him. "Raph, let me focus." He snaps his gaze back to the Titan and begins to channel his dwindling magic.

The knives buck, as though resisting his power, before they shudder and in a flare of light, return to him as full-sized swords. Gunmetal grey. A little more wicked looking than his own. Wilder too.

Raph peers over the ledge anxiously. "Leo, you have seconds."

The water rumbles below, foaming in response.

"Angelo." Leo pants between clenched teeth. He chews on the inside of his cheek as he begins to aim. "Need you to hold her."

"On it." From the corner of his eye, Mikey replaces Raph at his position on the ledge and begins a series of broad, sweeping motions with his arms. Mikey's always lent himself to more of a mixture of martial arts and dance when it comes to his mystic powers, and it's clear now that he does so because it's almost as though his powers are a large sea monster hiding part past where most ships go, something he has to coax out gently, carefully, never showing his own belly lest he be consumed by it.

Mikey punctuates one flowing arm with a sudden snap, one that conjures the great, gleaming chains he so favors, circling the cavern, the Titan's body, before shooting downwards, anchoring the Krang beneath the lake's surface.

Leo sends out a silent prayer that his jello arms can do this one last thing before hurling his newest swords, chittering sounds only he can hear, followed by his own bone-steel ones, letting a flicker of magic guide them up, up, up.

Each lands better than he hoped for, blades sinking deep into the statue’s curling horn. And, just as he'd planned, cracks snake out from where each sword has taken a bite from the Titan. Leo clenches a fist to help them along, splintering now audible, blue leaking into the rock like poison.

At his side, Raph gapes upwards. But, true to his word, he trusts Leo.

“The other yokai—she’ll just target them!” Mikey gasps out. He can't quite point to the collars, but his terrified gaze says enough. "The Krang? Shouldn't we be stopping her?"

And, like, yeah. Leo would love nothing more than to wrap this shit up now. He'd give anything.

(Not his brothers' lives.)

But like Raph had said, and because Raph is standing here, now, letting Leo's plan unfold, Leo knows and reminds himself that this is a rescue mission. That it's already mostly a losing battle, since, you know, it's the Krang.

"Can't win this fight right now." Leo swallows down a bleat of pain as his powers scrape against... against nothingness. They're running out of juice and Leo isn't exactly willing to find out what they'll start feeding on after his uncontrollable fury bleeds out. "Casey's down, your magic's depleted, and me?" He coughs slightly, but sends even more into the spiderwebbing cracks, leeching from his muscles, his willpower. "I'm not gonna be like this much longer. We'll finish this, her, later. Together. But..." Leo winks. "I wouldn't worry about the collars. You just make sure you're on the other side of the portal when I say now."

Mikey slowly looks upward to where Leo's power eats away at the Titan. He pales, significantly. But nods and inhales the chains back into himself and hurries back to Casey's side.

Leo stomps his good leg into the ground, squeezing his eyes shut, and rips open a portal. Without his weapons, they're a little more chaotic, rough around the edges, but nothing like the desperate panic for your family's survival to make the magic happen.

"Guys—" His ninpo stretches the portal wider. He sees stars. Leo can't keep siphoning his power in two directions. "NOW."

Despite the plentitude of injuries and the very real fact that he's swaying on his feet, Casey digs his heels into the ground and refuses to move another inch; Mikey practically face-plants with the abrupt stop. Casey stares and stares at Leo, plain as day that he knows there's always wool to be pulled over their eyes, that Leo will always surprise his family at the last minute.

(if leo were in the right mind, he'd hate his family thinks like that.)

His voice is barely a whisper, raw from screaming, one Leo hears anyway. "What about you?" Casey glares with that familiar stubbornness, cut from the same cloth as Leo. His eyes shine in the blue light of Leo's ninpo, Leo's waning ninpo, warning him no funny business.

Leo loves the kid, duh, but now? Yeah, now he could kill him.

"I will be right behind you. I will be right there." Leo stresses, muscles trembling with the effort. "I just have a few things to tie up, but I'll be right there, annoying you before you even have time to miss me." He smiles around the fire climbing up his throat, burning the rest of his words to ash. His ninpo won't be able to take much more, not with all the fighting, with the weight he keeps placing on it.

But it’s fine. Everything's gonna be fine.

He'll end this, jump into the portal, and land home safely, after his siblings. Easy as pie.

Something else flickers.

Fear, maybe.

(for a heartbeat, blue really and truly dreads being left here, in this pit with the naga.)

Leo grasps a little tighter onto his slipping ninpo with a snarl, having almost lost his concentration.

But Raph, oh Raph didn't miss the slip-up. The way Leo was seconds away from begging don't leave me here before he crammed it down into the box he puts all the ugly, lame things he hates addressing, like leading when he never wanted to, like realizing he's incapable of thinking of himself, too.

A steady stream of red light falls over him, casting strange shadows.

"Don't be thinking Raph is gonna let you off that easily." His grin is all snaggletooth, blurry between the fuzzy spots. "We do this, together."

His knees consider buckling, but Leo can only manage a grateful nod at his big brother, the raging fire, charring bone has taken away his ability to speak. It's all he can do to keep the portal open, to tunnel deeper and deeper into the Titan. Leo's breath runs ragged in his ears.

Committing Casey’s matted hair and sweaty face to memory, Leo breaks off a morsel of his power to push aquamarine and orange forward, a tiny flame nipping at their heels, telling them go go go, go now. It costs him, too. One of his swords wobbles slightly, debris cascading beneath it.

Mikey wraps an orange arm around Casey’s waist once more, finally releasing his hold over the naga. “Come on, CJ, Leo’s right behind us. He can’t do this if you aren’t safe—trust me," he begs. "He'll be okay. Right after us. Then you can kill him."

One last furious glare and Casey limps after Mikey toward the portal. Slowly. So slowly.

A scrap of breath is all Leo's awarded with, once the last bit of Mikey's leg sinks into blue and he slams the portal shut, and just in the nick of time, as the naga's jaws snap shut around the residual sparks. His mystic energy keeps raging, sanding down the bones in his fingers, the edges of his spine. 

Nothing but a bedraggled cat caught outside in a storm, the Krang heaves as water sheds from her flaking, torn scales. She tilts her head mechanically, as though her form isn't quite cooperating.

Leo and Raph hold their breaths.

"A shame the other two got away," she purrs. Claws extend into shining daggers. She shudders again. Two hoods fan out from the sides of her head, warping and stretching the cavity of her missing eye wide, too wide—gross—transforming her look from cracked-out Krang snake to cracked-out Krang cobra.

Alliterations be damned. She's terrifying.

As she slithers closer to the collars, they blink open bright, seething eyes, her proximity bringing them to life.

“But you two, you will be my new—”

“NOPE!” Leo grabs Raph, turns and runs down the Titan's arm. It's a slipping, sliding mess down the stone, blood and water turning the surface slick, and Leo can't quite get his body to cooperate with him, bones heavy, rubbery, muscles exhausted. It takes all of his will to keep moving, to hold his head up, to blink back the tears at how his ninpo, overtired, jumps out beneath his scales in a chaotic mess. Even his markings dim with every pump of his arms, the color slowly disappearing.

Only the strange force that allowed him today to do the things he never could before bites against the work of the panic wondering how they've survived this long against the Krang.

Raph looks a little more green than usual, though.

“Don’t you want to know about my plans for the collars?” The Krang calls after them.

(Scary evil people with their scary weird plans that take way too long to get through.)

Leo hacks up ash, or is that blood? and yells back, "Seems pretty self-explanatory. We're good!"

“Seems pretty self-explanatory if you ask me!” Leo calls back, sprinting towards the portal.

(He’ll get the scoop from Casey.)

(Shit.)

(Bad moves to call torture techniques, the scoop.)

Leo's pretty sure Raph takes the chance to hurl something over his shoulder at the naga, but he can’t be positive, since, you know, they’re running for their lives.

He can barely see straight at this point. The leg that he's been using regardless of its injury is near its breaking point, the wound weeping. Though the dragon tattoo was able to do something with his strength of mind, or some shit like that, it's the rest of him that's fading away, breaking off in small pieces that flutter away the longer he funnels and sends and shoots his ninpo into the statue. 

Distantly, Leo wonders if this is what Mikey felt like when he opened his own portal back on Staten Island.

No longer too proud to ask for help, Leo reaches a hand out to Raph, miles and miles of words traveling between their locked eyes. And the green gaze smarts as if it knows, because it did, it already knew before Leo moved.

Raph swings Leo's body onto his shell without missing a beat. "Whatever I have, use, brother. But use it so we can get the hell out of here."

"Is that a curse word I—"

"USE IT LEO!"

Leo balls up one fist made of blue and the other, red. It's warm, strong, and... bossy. Leo can feel it snapping at his own power.

If he were truly alone, he would have been too empty to escape. A drained husk on the ground. And he is not going to be thinking of that, thank you, no, he concentrates on one more portal, just... one... more.

Raph jerks at the sudden loss of his mystic energy, gobbled up by Leo's portal, and a quick glance over his shoulder asks does it always feel like that and what is Leo supposed to say? No? Of course it feels like that, but they're different, built different. If Leo were to try and make a fist like Raph does, he'd probably sleep until the next year.

Leo claps his hands together and yanks a door from nothingness, one strong enough to bring them all the way back home.

"Down there!" He points to the Titan's knee, illuminated by splash of blue hovering above it. “Gotta warn you, thing's are gonna get messy before they're better, but just stay on course." Leo tugs Raph's bandana lightly and off they go, nearing the edge of the Titan's arm.

With one measly, strung-out thought, Leo calls back every sword, each one back from where they tremble and shake and growl at the stone they've been trapped in.

He... maybe could have done that part better.

Leo fumbles around with four swords, narrowly taking a chunk out of both Raph and himself, before his brother plucks a pair from his grip with a sigh, never slowing once.

And... shit.

The stretched-out, taut, white hot pain of keeping himself pinned to the swords vanishes immediately. The pressure, all of it. Leo can breathe real lungfuls of air, see straight, straight enough that he lets himself smile at the last phase of the plan, working like a charm.

“What was that supposed to do?” Raph yells without turning around.

“Hold your horses, mi hermano.”

Besides, the creaky, ancient groan does all the explanatory work for him.

Just as he predicted, just as he planned, just as he spent so much of himself to do, the outcropping of rock forming the Titan’s horns above the dais begin plummeting down, weakened by the collective force of his swords wedging into vulnerable parts, his power worming its way in through rock as old as shit to weaken the structure, to whisper enough, let go, fall. As if the very pizza-supreme-in-the-sky was looking out for him especially, that part of the statue jutted out like a stubborn chin, primed to be brought down.

Crouched atop Raph's back, Leo watches, one hand on the lip of Raph's shell, the glorious disaster he wrought on the dais, the crunching, squealing of stone against stone, the collars reduced to dust.

He lets out a scathing, proud laugh.

Good, he sneers, thinking of the bone-deep terror etched across Casey’s face. Good.

With the dais gone, the weapons to enslave the yokai gone, the statue's structure has been compromised. Everywhere Leo fought with the naga, each place the other was slammed into, punched, kicked, is another weak spot, one that begins to bring the entire Titan down.

The Krang screams a plume of fury that rattles the cavern, unable to do anything as she's hit with a heavy stone that propels her back into the lake, one big enough to keep her down.

This is some Wipeout shit for real, Leo laughs, his laughs shifting from giddy to almost hysterical. He's tired, okay?

That's when the Titan's leg itself starts falling apart, beneath Raph's very feet.

"Jump!" Leo bellows, and it's all he can do to hold on to Raph as his brother leaps off the statue, the two of them weightless before being sucked into blue, cramped into not-space and not-time, the portal expanding and contracting to the beat of Leo’s uneven, tripping heartbeat.

The dropping sensation of his stomach, the familiar embrace of his mystic powers are a blessed respite.

"Two for two." Raph slants a sly look back at him. The portal seems to relax the further they travel. “Reshaping the Hidden City, huh?”

Leo stifles a yawn. Why is it so hard to keep his eyes open?

"Someone should." He slumps further. "S' a Krang shrine."

Raph responds with a mere hum.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? The rest of his family, of course, except for Casey, will never have the same intrinsic recoiling from the aliens, deep-running hatred of them as Leo does. They'll never know the extent of his revulsion, the way he can't stand the thought of any of them still alive. He wants them gone, their dark stain erased from this world, and what lingers in his tattoo is a constant reminder of what Leo still struggles with every day, what Leo is willing to do to make sure that happens.

A somber mood drapes over the turtles. Maybe it's that the Krang are back. Or that Leo went batshit over Casey’s kidnapping.

(the way every part of him says you failed casey you almost lost him do you deser—)

Or, it's probably the conversation Raph kept warning him about. It'll be an ugly one. Hard, too.

Leo rests his cheek against the edges of his brother’s shell. Lets himself begin to drift.

One day at a time.

Chapter Text

Raph crosses his arms.

“You wanna tell Raph what that was all about?” he asks Leo’s back.

The dragon on his little brother’s shell yawns in response, tail flicking with the same disarming nonchalance Leo wields like a sword.

Leo’s grip on his knees tightens, fingers digging into his scales. Raph’s heart flutters with nerves.

It’s okay.

It’s fine.

Raph is totally prepared to handle this and he isn’t feeling stressed or worried or helpless about his brother’s emotional state. Not at all.

(He waited until they got through the portal, falling through space and time to reach the lair, safe and dark and warm. 

He waited until they raced to the medbay, where Donnie was already hooking an unconscious Casey up to several scanners and other machines.

He waited until Mikey waved his hands over the kid, eyes glowing a dim orange as he murmured to everyone that the empyrean was still very much so in Casey’s body. 

He waited until Leo stared and stared and stared at the kid, eyes full of guilt, probably fretting like a fiend on the inside. Raph hoped he wouldn’t have to drag Leo away.

He waited until Donnie snapped at Leo—“You should’ve waited to at least hear a little bit of the Krang’s plan instead of shooting out like the loose cannon you are!”.

He had waited, but not a second longer, the instant Leo tensed, began to tremble.

“Alright that’s enough—” Raph said cautiously, breaking the two up from each other.

Climbing over his arm, Leo snarled back, “She had Casey, what was I supposed to do—let her—”

Donnie practically flattened him with the force of his purpling glare.

“I don’t know, maybe not let her take him?”

Sigh. The twins. No one could hurt them like each other, no one knew better where to press the knife in.

It appeared as though Donnie’s fuse had blown first—not that Raph was entirely surprised by the fact, but, it was alway regrettable when his brothers began snapping at each other's heels. Worse, when in the same breath, they wanted to take everything back, when backtracking only had them sinking further into the quicksand.

Raph didn't even have to use his disappointment face. Or stink.

“Shit, Leo—I’m sorry, you know I didn’t mean that. I’m tired and I’m stressed and I’m sorry.” Donnie was quick to bite, quicker to apologize. It was almost heartbreaking, how earnestly he was trying to scoop his words back in.

Leo, preferring to fall apart in solitude, jerked a short and swift nod, spinning on a hell to leave the medbay without the slightest whisper, and the horrible thought that what Donnie had said wasn't any different than what was constantly driving nails into Leo's skull couldn't leave Raph's own head.

“You guys don’t have to say it, I know that was bad, I—”

“We get it, Dee.” MIkey had a knowing, if not a little sad, smile on his face. “We’re all family and we all get on each other’s nerves when things are tense. But you should’ve seen him down there—it was like his old Crazy Ass Ninja self was back!”

Donnie batted at a spare wrench.

“I should’ve been down there with you guys…”

Raph hip-checked him. "No one could've know what was about to happen. What matters now is that we regroup and lie low for a bit.” And, as Donnie continued to frown, Raph tried joking, "And maybe not bite each other's heads off."

Weaving together the briefest memory spell, as thin as butterfly wings but strong as the ocean current, the cement floor melted away, transforming into a rippling image of the entire fight. Even from Mikey's view, bone-steel swords and a terrifying grin were visible white pinpricks against the murkiness of the Titan.

It was breathtaking, even then.

But Donnie, calculating and clever and cautious Donnie, remained unsure.

Unaware of his brother's apprehension, Mikey let out a bright laugh as Leo sunk a vicious kick into the Krang's side, eyes as glued to the magic as though it were a real Lou Jitsu movie.

"Wasn't he amazing?"

"Yeah..." Donnie nodded slowly. "But... after the crazy shitstorm going by the moniker of an alien invasion and our sweet, sweet emotional reunion, I had assured him that his ninpo episodes, for lack of better words, were fading. And I thought they were. I have the numbers and everything, and I had told him he had nothing to worry about." His jaw worked, a new furrow at his brow. "So what the hell is all this?"

Psyching himself up for the mental acrobatics that was prying information out of Leo (seriously, prying was the only word even close enough to describing the haunting and sometimes demoralizing experience), Raph sighed.

Donnie and Mikey shared twin expressions of doubt.

"You sure he's gonna talk?"

Traitors.

"Yes," Raph hissed. "And Raph thinks he knows how to get through to him."

His brothers held up their hands in defense as though to say whatever you say, chins tilted low in mock deference, before they turned back to Casey and continued their fretting over the boy.)

Now, Raph's caught up to Leo, who, fortunately enough, is waiting at the base of the subway stairs, the string lights of their family room just illuminating his expression enough to tell Raph he isn't exactly looking forward to this interaction either.

He clears his throat. The sensation of floating in limbo, staring at a vasty array of starry night, unsure of where to begin, hits him out of nowhere.

Gold eyes, lost in an almost manic sheen, pass over him briefly. Bored.

"About the Krang. Yeah, so I've already got a couple plans for that, and we need to get started on them now—”

“Leo.”

“I mean it’s not great that Casey’s not awake right now and that we have to wait to see if he learned anything about the Kr—”

"LEO." Raph sharpens his tone into something that'll break through. "You know what I meant.”

Smoke and mirrors—that is who Leo can be. Smoke and mirrors, leading you where he wants you (and in the end, none the wiser).

Visibly deflating, Leo continues to him carefully—as if he’s still trying to find the best way to approach this, poking around all the possibilities he can predict, still trying to hide something. Raph can see it, pinched at the corners of his brother's mouth, the too-perfect posture. But what?

Raph plants himself like a tree and prepares to weather the storm that is Hamato Leonardo.

Considering his silence for a second, Leo rolls his eyes and begins picking at a hangnail.

“Don said something about thinking my episodes were gone, didn’t he?”

There are times that Raph really, really finds using the label Twins for leoanddonnie severely misses the mark. Twins doesn't describe the way those two just know what the other one does or says with no explanation, with no warning save for the years they've spent attached at the hip.

Regardless, he nods.

Leo's expression darkens a shade.

"Long story short, Raphie dearest, after that heinous bitch kidnapped all of you, I had asked Dee if these crazy overpowered moments, which I'm still workshopping the name of, would keep happening to me. He said his scans seemed to suggest that no, I wouldn't, that my mystic ninpo mojo was calming down and I was going to be okay, that I wouldn't scare you guys anymore."

Raph starts at the way his brother's voice breaks beneath his desperation.

Leo shudders, markings lighting up as if electrical currents run below.

"They haven't." He grabs Raph's hand with both of his own. They simmer with energy, flames of power beneath his scales, strong and fierce and intense enough that Raph feels it rattling his teeth, fuzzing the outermost edges of his brain, churning like embers in his stomach. “Let me show you.”

Raph lets himself fall into the chaos and turmoil his little brother keeps himself in.

(he’s breathing hard.

there is a chainsaw is in his throat.

leo has no idea what woke him up, but it must be bad, because his ninpo is jerking back and forth like a wild thing, and he sees everything with crystal detail, a smooth veil blanketing his emotions, leaving only hawk-like precision and bared teeth, sharp like a dagger in the night.

he is numb and screaming and splintering apart from within.

leo bangs his fists on the walls of himself, his body like a cage.

what is going on? he thinks, terrified.

am i back in the prison dimension?

no, he realizes, looking around.

i am here and i am home, is a mantra that slices through the damp panic, the cotton stuffed into his mouth.

it keeps the shrieking in his bones quiet, but only for a heartbeat.

returning, that mighty force hits him so hard, leo bows over, falling to the ground.

i can’t live like this.)

(his family is playing hide-and-seek in central park.

the swiftly moving shadow of one of his brothers triggers that animal instinct.

leo dives into a thick copse of trees, heart beating fast fast faster.

nerves alight with energy, his blood sings—danger and pain and warning.

something is screaming within him.

leo realizes it is him.

he is the one screaming.

the shadows and the dark stretch of the night sky are too similar—

leo shuts his eyes, breathing in and out.

mikey tries sneaking up on him. whatever force it is that lines his body in bellowing blue traces every last movement, hyperaware of his little brother slinking around.

soundlessly launching himself upward into the trees, leo crouches atop a branch, completely still.

away from the surprise, away from the coming fists, away from the gleaming mech of the kr—

what? he thinks, banging on the cages of his mind.

the krang will not sneak up on us up here, another part of him whispers.

with every approaching footstep in the trees, mikey shifts and warps into something from nightmares.

no, leo begs—that’s my brother. mikey is my brother and why am i still so scared? shouldn’t i be okay now? what are the guys gonna think?

lost, arguing with himself, leo does not notice himself reaching back to draw his katanas, against the threat against the kr—

“leo! are you trying to cheat again?? you can’t just portal out when i’m about to find you!” mikey yells up at the tree, hands propped on his hips.

somehow, someway, mikey’s voice frees him from the spell.

wrestling control of himself at the last minute, leo chokes out a laugh. “next time, you won’t catch me!”

“you’re it, you sore loser,” donnie calls, glad to butt in.

leo forces himself to stare at mikey until orange bleeds out across his vision, his brother’s ninpo a light to follow through the waves.

“alright, alright, i’m gonna start counting!” leo yells, a touch more steady now as he lands on the loamy ground.

but he spends the rest of the game in the shadows, where no one can see the tears in his eyes, the tremble in his hands, the way he walks on eggshells, terrified he'll draw his swords on his brothers again.

am i going crazy?

the howling emptiness returns.

i can’t live like this.)

(it is happening again.

leo cannot control it.

does not know where it comes from or why.

it is crawling up his throat, molten hot and violent, screaming to be let out, to escape the shadows, to fight the unseen enemy.

leo wonders if it is the glint of mikey’s fork in the light. what that glimmer triggers.

he has to excuse himself from the table before the murderous calm casts its spell on him, and he is no longer the leo his family knows, but the leo that is dangerously unflinching.

and he hates it.

it is scary and ugly and fierce. and not in a good way.

as if something dark and shadowy and evil rises up from the depths of his trauma and takes over, and all leo can do is helplessly stand by and hope he doesn’t do irreversible damage.

he is numb and screaming from within himself all at once.

leo presses his lips together, wrapping his arms around himself as he sprints deeper and deeper into the lair.

all he can think is, i can’t live like this.

i can’t live like this.

i can’t live like this.)

(it is a warm, fall afternoon.

they’re sparring on a rooftop, sunning their scales with the last bits of sunshine before a long, long winter.

mikey has been practicing spells with barry—and can now entirely conceal himself from sight.

the spell zings in their nostrils, bright and citrusy when he waves his hands, a barrage of strange symbols spinning around him like a tornado.

they ask for mikey to weave the magic so they can practice above-ground, with the wind in their shells and the chattering symphony of the city.

leo is fighting against donnie, taunting and teasing a reaction out of his twin.

it snaps like a rubber band across leo’s insides, stinging and hot.

no no no no—he thinks. not him, not donnie, not here, please no no no.

donnie’s bō comes swinging down at him out of nowhere, impossibly fast as it sails along a purple wind.

leo snatches it from midair, arm not even close to trembling.

he is terrified of the little effort it takes.

a fire roars.

he distantly wonders if his whole body is wreathed in flames. if it's visible, the way he's being consumed.

surprised, donnie lets out an awed yelp. “nardo! woah! that was like, awesome…”

heart in his throat, leo watches his twin, petrified that he’ll realize something is wrong.

donnie said that i would be fine, and it has been weeks, leo thinks. donnie never makes mistakes about calculations so… it must be me. i’m messing things up.

“... nardo?”

leo jerks, falling back into reality.

along the way, something keeps screaming—shrieking to fight and to defend.

once he has returned to the warm sunshine and the windy rooftop, his stomach drops.

donnie’s staff is still in his hand, wood beginning to groan beneath his grip.

“shit! sorry, dee.” he panics, letting go. “got a little carried away, didn’t i?”

donnie narrows his eyes for a moment, purple gathering at the edges.

leo yanks the leash on his ninpo, on that living force within that answers to no one, and begs it to heel.

his brothers cannot see this.

whatever it is, it quiets, satisfied. leo is too scared to be relieved.

momentarily placated, donnie spins the bō and resumes his fighting stance, beckoning leo with a swaggering hand.

“you’re so on,” leo forces himself to say, voice far away.

i can’t live like this, he doesn’t say.)

(he has got to do something about this.

that leo—teeth and darkness and malice—has to go. all it does it remind his family of the bleak, bad days after the invasion, when things were so terrible, but everyone tried so hard to see them as good.

so one day, leo steals away into the hidden city to find something, anything to stop this.

he finds a jar that reads “containment spell” and an idea, not great and open to failure but better than nothing, pops into his head.

leo remembers that mikey is to paint his shell in a couple of days.

he looks at the small jar, smooth and rounded in his hand, containing something clear and viscous.

“i’ll take this, sir,” he announces, passing it over to the yokai vendor. “can you tell me how this works?”

“should i be selling this to someone who doesn’t know how to use it?”

“should you be denying my money?” leo waves the coppers in front of his flashing eyes, coppers that barry probably won’t miss.

“no,” he grumbles. “alright, kid. this is how you do it…”

and within minutes, leo finally has a solution to his bloodthirsty, lethal problem.

his family will understand.

more than understand.

leo will be the leader they need and his family  will be happy and unafraid and safe.

and then he can rest.

then he can live like this.)

Raph pops back up to the surface, sucking in a huge breath as the barrage of memories finally slow, the clumsy tidal wave of Leo's panic and fear and uncertainty stronger than he would've guessed.

“See?” Leo asks, the blue glow of his eyes fading alongside their mind-meld. “It kept happening and I didn’t tell any of you because—”

Holding a hand up, Raph stops him.

“Because that’s exactly the kind of boneheaded idea that I’d put a stop to!” he snaps, taking a step forwards. “Leo, why would you do this?!”

Leo’s breath hitches. A flash—younger, scared.

“Raph.”

The I Can Fix This written across his face is more than Raph and his rapidly constricting throat can bear. How can he want to throttle and hug Leo at the same time?

Probably because it was a horrible idea. Picking and choosing parts of yourself to show to the world, and locking the ugly parts away?

There are many, many things that Raph does not know, but one truth that lives deep in his bones is... this is not how this family works. The Hamato's know the ugly and the funny and the tough and the raw bits lingering in each of themselves, in one another, and that’s how they make all this work.

Raph arms himself with his three strongest weapons as the oldest brother, patience and love and gentility, and takes a deep breath.

“It doesn’t always have to be like this, Leo."

"Like what?" Leo asks, having mastered himself in the short seconds that have passed.

“Like planning ten million steps ahead, like you always have to be on guard all the time—like the only thing that matters is getting a good angle on things.”

That knocks him off-kilter.

He shoots him a scandalized look, shoulders rising defensively. His eyes glow in the lair’s evening light, wide and searching.

“Why not? That’s my shtick, my strength. I figure things out.” Leo extends his arms, unsure of what's going wrong. "I didn't think that was a crime."

His paper-thin excuse crumbles between them. Raph is not amused.

“Don’t play dumb with me. This is different from you being our strategist.”

“Raph, please, we need to make a game plan for the Krang. The Sister is back!” Leo cries. “We can’t just sit here—”

“Leo. You collapsed a mountain shaped like a man on top of the Sister. We have time," Raph replies evenly.

He scowls and crosses his arms, beak wrinkling as he realizes that Raph will not budge.

And then come the claws.

“Quick little reminder then. I’m the leader, in case you've suddenly forgotten, and, um, yeah I can't be the leader if I've got a raging case of Batshit Ninpo, Raphael. So sue me, then, for seeing a problem and finding a solution that worked." 

For the love of—

“Until it didn’t!” Raph explodes. He gestures to the whole of Leo, the haywire bursts of ninpo slithering around his limbs. “Until it came back!”

He scours his brain for something, anything to break through to Leo. The darn kid's tougher to crack than Donnie after three whole coffee pots, and that says something. If Raph had a resume, Out Maneuvering Leonardo would be at the top of his skill set, would be his proudest accomplishment, and most days he barely knows what he's doing. But... honesty can work. Has worked. There's a paradigm for that.

Raph places a hand on Leo's trembling shoulder, bringing out his best I Am Your Big Brother And You Better Fess Up Voice.

“Leo, tell me what’s going on. I saw your memories, I felt your pain, but I can't piece them together—just talk to me.”

He shakes himself out of the grip. Even from his downturned expression, Raph has the sense of being looked down upon.

“It’s nothing, Raph. Just let it go.”

“No." Raph envelops him in a mystic hand, the red nearly swallowing the whole of him, save for a pair of furious eyes peeking out. "I won’t let it go, I will not let you go. We can do this the quick and easy way, or the long and hard way." He arches a brow. "And I'm guessing you're pretty tired after all that fighting."

Safely ensconced in his grip, Leo can't help but relax, imperceptibly.

There. A hairline crack in the mask.

(leo is tired and scared and trying so very hard to ignore all the warning bells screaming in him.)

“You wouldn’t understand,” he blurts, voice threading to shred apart into the chorus of many, the unnatural melody seeping in.

Raph unfurls his hand like a flower and Leo immediately covers his face, practiced breaths cleaving through the storm.

Turning away, he reveals the dragon on his shell—curled and forlorn, as if the weight of what is to come from his mouth is more than it can bear.

"Those parts of me..." Leo begins softly, emptily. "Those parts of me are never going away. I am never going to be the same person. This is—was the best way to hold them back. I can’t be who you guys think I am and have that lurking around the corner. It's ugly and awful and one day, I'm going to end up hurting one of you."

“Spar with Raph, then.”

Leo rears back to blink what the hell eyes back at Raph, mouth twisted in confusion.

“What?”

“You heard me. Sparring time. Now.”

Raph knows his tone leaves no room for argument.

Bewildered, Leo rubs a hand across his teary face, and assumes a defensive position, fists up. He’s upset, sure, but trusts Raph enough to obey.

They go at it, and for a while, he dances around like some dumbass ballerina, never quite landing anything substantial. He darts forward and pretends to kick a foot out, or send an elbow at Raph’s head, but it falls… flat. If Raph didn’t know him so well, if Raph hadn’t seen the insane show Leo put on earlier at the Crying Titan, he’d think nothing of it.

Losing my patience, he fumes, batting a half-hearted sneak attack from above. Fine. If this is how it's gonna be...

(He might also want to kick his brother's ass.)

(For only the most valiant of purposes.)

He lands a sneaky kick to Leo’s bad side—the part of him that returned not quite right after the Krang—to bring out the part he so fears, hard enough to shake out that beast he keeps under lock and key. To make it mad.

Raph grins (it is more snarl) and laughs, rumbling and dangerous, the sound echoing throughout the abandoned subway.

“You gonna do something about that, Fearless?” he taunts, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Something snaps in Leo’s eyes.

Blue lines his body.

There you are.

He lunges, teeth bared, and the real fight begins.

Everywhere Raph steps, evades to, Leo is already there—gold eyes razor-sharp. He circles and disappears and blurs out of focus, kicking and striking and punching constantly, tirelessly, endlessly. (Quite a few of them will leave a bruise.)

Leo steps out from a patch of darkness, sweeping his leg out. And Raph actually stumbles and almost falls, his knee digging into the subway tiles. He growls and sends a fist hurtling towards the quick bastard, but misses by feet, which makes him grit his teeth harder and try again.

Every time Raph thinks he's about to close in on Leo, his brother is twirling back into a spinning portal, sparks skittering across the ground, ten steps ahead in anticipating his older brother's moves. Leo is a storm of brutality and might and it’s not the first time that Raph thinks to himself, he’s really something.

The subway cars take a couple hits, metal groaning as one or two turtles slam into them, dents that'll take a week to buff out, but it’s nothing the lair hasn’t seen before.

There, even in close quarters, Leo is amazing. All reflexes and grace and speed.

Not something to be afraid of.

Not something to shut away.

Not something that will hurt his family, that needs to be stopped.

No.

His memories say monster, say this one must be suppressed, but all Raph can see are his brother’s flight-or-fight instincts locked in an impossible dance, one that has led him deeply astray, but even now, fighting him, Raph knows he's in no danger.

Leo's his brother, clever and witty and brave, vanquisher of the Krang, Protector of Earth; cut from the sky, fierce as a storm, faster than a bullet.

And maybe, just maybe, if he has lost his way, then Raph is here to guide him back.

So Raph blocks and dodges and ducks—he exchanges a few blows as well, knocking Leo to the ground, roughing him up along the edges. Leo may have an edge but Raph has experience. And he never balks, never backs down.

Raph looks into that living force swimming behind Leo’s gaze, at the self-proclaimed Super Murder Mode, and he only sees his brother.

After what feels like an hour, breaths sawing from each of their throats, movements more sluggish with every punch thrown, Raph figures he’s made his point. They each have their own share of bruises and scrapes from the fight.

Worked up into a frenzy, Leo pounces at what he believes to be Raph’s vulnerable middle, left open on purpose.

Fast as lightning, Raph sweeps an arm down, sending Leo sprawling to the floor, where he pins him with a single foot, presses hard enough to cut through the mindless haze, but no more.

(the setting is agonizingly familiar.

one brother pinned by the other.

desperately reaching out, searching for anything familiar to grab a hold of.)

“Leo—Leo, look at me.”

For a second, only pure defiance glitters in those eyes. Thrown to the ground, defenseless, beaten, and still that iron will bleeds out from him, saying i will fight.

Raph hides a smile—that’s my Leo. Fighter to the end.

Unspooling a thread of his ninpo, Raph guides a red spark towards Leo, winding through the blue flames snapping and roaring.

“Leo,” he repeats, red snuffing the fire with cool, gentle hands until...

Like a cannon, Leo hurtles out of his stupor with a bang, chest heaving. By the time he looks up, all threats have receded, bared teeth gone, only pure apology left.

(red sees a wave like a dark, angry mouth begin to close around blue.)

“I’m—I’m sorry, Raph, I—” he gasps, hands scrabbling around, scooting back frantically as he clambers to his feet, trying to place himself in the middle of this mess. Leo blinks in utter confusion, as though seeing the lair for the first time, and it breaks a special place in Raph's heart to see him so off-balance, panicked. “Are you okay? Did I—”

“Dude. I’m okay, slow down. You got me good in a couple of places, I’ll give you that, but you didn’t kill me. You weren’t even close, ya nerd.”

Leo still looks terrified.

“But you—”

Raph shakes his head, temper about to blow over—again? Really?

But in the precious seconds between his burning fuse and Leo’s uneven breaths, Raph realizes something. His way in.

It’s so obvious he could kick himself, wants to kick himself for not realizing it sooner.

(red crests the wave triumphant. he can see the other side.)

“What—Raph still doesn’t understand? You really think out of everyone in our whole family, Raph wouldn’t understand what it feels like to be stronger and faster and more dangerous than the rest of you? Raph wouldn’t understand what it feels like to have to check yourself and remember that your brothers are smaller than you, weaker than you, more vulnerable that you are?"

Raph leans close, his own pain, his own fire coming to the surface.

“Leo, I might be the only one who understands how that feels. It’s a burden, sure, but I learned. So will you. You’re my fighter, Fearless. I’ve seen you do things no one can do, survive things no one should. You get knocked down, you get back up.”

A lifeline, burning bright and true, sails across the divide between the brothers.

A blue hand, carrying that spark of wildness, freedom, reaches out.

And takes it.

(blue crosses the wave, spluttering and splashing, but alive.)

Helping Leo to his feet, Raph softens his expression.

“Raph understands why you hid this away—he really does, but you can’t lock your trauma away, Lee. That’s when it explodes out and that’s how it hurts others." He wraps his arms around Leo, holding him tight enough to break through the dark clouds clinging to Leo’s mind, the words he hurts himself with. “The pain may never go away, Leo, but in the end, that’s what makes you a better leader. You know the cost of what we do, you have scales in the game, and those parts that are scared? That bite back? They’re reminders of the great and terrible responsibility that those of us in charge have.”

“I hate this,” Leo mumbles, completely still. “I want to be okay." His voice breaks. "I hate who I am when I’m like that.”

(something like a blue heartbeat begins to thrum.)

“I don’t.”

His brother fixes big watery eyes on him.

“When you first started having your Murder Ninja outbreaks, Mikey wondered if they happened because you weren’t able to fight in the prison dimension, and you locked everything away. And then you were freed and safe, but not all of you had caught up to that fact, yet. I think he’s right, so I’m not scared. Leo, you’re a fighter who doesn’t give up—those parts, the ones you think are scary and crazy? Those are the parts that refused to back down. They are that big, fierce heart of yours saying i am not done yet.

“You’ve got guts and dedication and love—and even though your little tattoo plan literally imploded in all of our faces today, what I saw afterwards was nothing to be ashamed of. I saw a turtle who would do anything for his family." He takes Leo’s face in his hands, marveling at how someone so small can burn so bright “Raph saw you, Fearless,” he says softly, chanting the challenge, remember who you are remember who you are remember who you are.

Because unlike I Wish I Came Up With The Feelings Wheel Myself Mikey or Unwilling To Admit He Has Emotions But Will Eventually Come Around To The Idea Donnie, Leo is proud and stubborn and will never, ever be forced to do anything—especially not open up to how he really feels. But, Raph has learned after eighteen long years that the way to worm through the walls Leo puts up is a finely tuned combination of raw understanding and, to put it crudely, provocation. No pity, no anger.

Just igniting the fire. Because in the same way that Leo can do extraordinary things for his family when the time calls for it, Leo can also rise to the challenge of remembering who he is.

And it works like a charm.

Even though the Krang are back and Leo’s got a broken magic spell on his back that'll probably be more trouble than it's worth and they’ve got a kid from the future living with them and whatever kind of unspeakable trauma that is, what Raph says works.

Leo plucks the words from the shimmering space between them, turning the words over like a smooth rock in careful hands. His torn expression crumbles, and suddenly he’s smiling and its wobbly and teary but it's a smile and it's real.

“How do you always know exactly what to say?” He laughs wetly—pent-up fear receding, the lowering tide revealing the bright star of his brother.

Raph swears he sees the dragon’s tail, blue scales shimmering, curl over Leo’s shoulder towards his hands.

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“You might have a magic tattoo,” Raph nuzzles his chin on Leo’s head, “but Raph has magic big brother powers.” He doesn’t say years of practice and saying the wrong thing before saying the right thing and learning who my brothers are like the back of my hand.

Leo snorts like he heard that anyway, wrapping his himself around one of Raph’s arms again, in the way that Raph knows he loves to be held.

(Fun fact: Raph used to hate being so much bigger than his brothers.)

(Until he learned that his little brothers love how big he is, and how he can hold them and carry them and protect them.)

(Now, Raph is proud to be the owner of the Best Bear Hugs trophy for nine years running.)

Leo stays there for a few seconds, allowing Raph to enjoy the embrace before squirming and worming his way around, all elbows and knees, to face him. Raph almost laughs at his expression—face screwed up as if he’s going to war, clearly mustering the strength to talk about what has been bothering him, but he stops himself.

Because this is Leo trying.

The Leo right now, who is accepting the hand offered, is not the Leo from a year ago, not the Leo who hid behind silver smiles and clever words, big displays and flashy distractions.

“I’ve…” He sucks in a deep but shaky breath, shooting a nervous smile at Raph. “I’ve been putting a lot of pressure on myself, lately. With the Hidden City stuff and learning to heal,” Leo admits, an unwarranted blush rising to his cheeks. “I'd bitten off more than I could chew, and for while it made the bad thoughts go silent. It's a bad habit—stretching myself so thin. But... I had this-this image of what a leader should be, and whenever I looked in the mirror, that wasn't what I saw.”

Glancing back towards the medbay, aging sorrow turning his markings dull, Leo sighs.

“But when the kid was taken, everything I’d been pushing down just… punched straight through the spell and it was kind of insane, but you know when your stomach is really upset and you kind of want to die, but you finally just hurl and it feels so much better?” Leo laughs to himself, a hiccupy, hoarse thing. "Man, I sound so corny right now."

“That’s not corny or weird. Raph thinks there’s a lot to be said about getting rid of what festers inside of us. He’s happy that you feel better. And before you even think it—it’s not stupid for you to say that the spell was causing all this hurt. That’s magic mystic nonsense, and you and I know very well that we are not the mystic geniuses of the family. That’s Angelo.”

Pure joy radiates from Leo.

(red shrugs casually.)

i know how you think leo. you don’t have to take all the blame on yourself constantly.

“I got caught up in this weird spiral of guilt and frustration,” Leo says.

It is amazing to see how he gains confidence, his voice strengthening, posture rising—how the oppressive layers of doubt and guilt have shed with the spell and his family’s love curls at the edges of his smile. Raph sees a brief glimpse of that shining hero from that day at the Battle Nexus, compassionate and steady and luminous.

(He doesn’t think he’s hallucinating that. Raph imagines that his brother probably feels a great deal lighter—now that his tattoo isn’t carrying that pent-up… everything, a hopeful power has come back to fill in the cracks left behind by the dumbass magic spell.)

Poking one of Raph’s spikes, he hums. “Things don’t seem so dark anymore. So dark and hopeless and somehow constantly my fault. I mean, I’ll always feel like it’s my fault the kid’s life is the way it is—just a little. It’s something I have to work through, I know. That’s a big part of the reason I got so intense earlier. But even when the tattoo broke—wait, Raph is it okay!? I completely forgot, oh no.” He flinches, turning his head this way and that to try and check on the dragon.

Raph jostles the arm Leo clings to lightly, breaking up the panic.

“It’s fine.” He glances at the snuffling dragon, gold eyes sleepily regarding him. “The spell didn't do damage on the way out. And... I think it likes me,” Raph chuckles, watching as the dragon shifts closer to him along Leo’s shell, blue rippling.

“Of course it likes you, it’s me.” Leo sniffs. “Or at least I think so. Honestly, I’m not really sure what the tattoo is gonna to do now, without all that juju.”

“And it's completely gone?” Raph asks, tapping Leo’s shell.

“Yeah, I felt the last residual energy fade away when—don’t laugh, but when you called me Fearless. You reminded me that I didn’t want to live like that, afraid of myself and what’s happened to me. It took a bit to feel less shaky and weird…but, there’s not that heavy, awful weight anymore.”

“Do you think it'll just... go back to normal?"

"Dude. The spell was ten different kinds of crazy shit. I don't think it's ever going back to normal, and Mikey's super mystic mojo definitely did... something. I don't know. Stupid mystic vendors,” he mumbles. His eyes flicker up. “Don’t trust them, Raph—they’ll twist their words and you’ll end up with some—”

Raph shushes his entire face with one finger.

“I am not the one who needs to hear that. And Raph better not ever hear of you going and pulling shit like that again. Capiche?”

Leo nods, reddening.

"Yes, yup, definitely, affirmative. I’m the portal guy, not the wizard." Leaning back into him, his little brother hums, a sad and soft tune. "Sorry, Raphie."

"We gonna talk about Casey?"

"Oh. The kid. To be frank, I'm worried about him. He called me Sensei, earlier. You know that? And he's still... he's still so sad." Gold eyes shine impossibly brighter with unshed tears. "Casey was such a champ after the invasion, and I just want to make sure he doesn’t feel alone.” Leo curls against him tighter.

(Raph can sense some kind of trouble brewing there. Casey is a sweet kid, but he knows how similar he is to Leo, and if Raph knows anything about Leo—it’s that there’s always some kind of emotion explosion at some point.)

“You’re doing a great job, Leo. All you can do is be there for him. Besides, you’re his hero and he looks up to you so much,” Raph replies, hoping to not sound as grave as his thoughts. “I know you’d never try to be his Sensei, but I want you to think about boundaries. He needs to relearn how to live too," he adds with a knowing look, a part of him sighing in relief as Leo’s expression takes on that i understand even though it is difficult quality. “I’m proud of you, Lee. I’m always proud to be your brother, but especially now—Raph is so excited to see the turtle you’re becoming. I love you, big man, and whatever the Krang throws our way, I’ll be with you, every step of the way.”

A tear drips onto his arm. A blue spark, raw with emotion and bursting at the seams with love, brushes past Raph’s ninpo, no longer than thundering demon train, but something long and graceful and filled with purpose.

Maybe that’s the best part of their Hamato connection.

When their throats close up and their eyes burn with tears, when words fail, they always have that part of themselves, bound by some impossible force and yet entirely unique to each one, to reach out and say what they cannot.

(blue cries—thank you i love you i was scared but you’re here i was lost but i remember the way.)

(red smiles, bright enough to keep the way alight—i will always be here to show you the way.)

That’s a promise, Raph thinks to himself.

A promise to those sick pink aliens and rebellious yokai and crazy magic and whatever else tries to stick their unwanted snouts in his family’s business. Raph will always be there to show his brothers the way home—a lighthouse, a mighty rock in the dark sea that his family lives in orbit around.

Leo, pacified and safe, rests his head against a spike, breaths evening out. Gold eyes grow heavy-lidded.

Oh no no no, this lecture isn’t over sleepyhead.

Raph locks one arm around his neck in a chokehold before Leo has time to move.

Squawking and struggling with surprising strong arms that push and push and push, he yells, “Dude! What??”

“It’s time we have the ‘Why We Don’t Murder’ talk, a talk that I, to be completely transparent, never thought we would have—”

“Oh my gosh, Raph—I used that nerve technique Jupiter Jim did, I didn’t kill them—”

“Reason number one: murder is Bad.”

Leo groans but sags bonelessly.

In his head, Raph laughs hard—happy to have his bossy, flashy, heart-of-gold Leo back, as he rubs his knuckles into his head, making him flail.

“Reason number two…”

And he begins to tickle Leo, right where he hates, and Leo’s desperate laughs and Raph’s own guffawing chase away the last kernels of darkness lingering.

—

“So are you gonna take care of that or…?” Raph asks, their wrestling match cut short by Leo’s shoulder wound opening up once more.

Damn Krang snake lady nails. So freakin’ sharp.

Leo dusts imaginary dirt from himself, ignoring the lick of fire shooting down his right arm. Three long claw marks wrap around like red bands, stinging like a bitch.

“Yeah. I meant to swing by there, and check in with Dee.” He offers a hand to his brother. Raph blinks with no small amount of surprise as he heaves him up to a standing position. “Guess I’m still… strong?” Leo shrugs, too tired to go into the minute details of his tattoo. “We’ll just have to wait and see how super special I am now.”

Raph rolls his eyes, shoving Leo lightly. He sticks his tongue out.

“Keep us updated, bonehead. Raph’s going to sleep, unless you want moral support in there.” Raph yawns, exhaustion lining his face. Leo can’t help but look at his colorless eye, scarred permanently.

Leo hugs him one more time, pressing his face right into Raph’s plastron and squeezing his eyes shut.

“No, that’s okay. You’ve done… so much,” his voice breaks. “I love you, Raphie. And I won’t let the Krang get you again—so don’t be afraid.”

A red current—like coming home after a long, hard day knowing with crystal clarity that there are open arms waiting for you—twirls around Leo, soft as down, sweet as sugar crystals. His own ninpo unfurls like a pair of wings, wide open as the sky.

“After seeing you today? If I was the Sister, I’d be terrified.” Raph crooks a snaggletoothed grin, chirring a familiar rhythm.

Instead of blushing or hiding behind a saccharine joke, Leo feels a rush of pride—a heady feeling that says i protected my family and those parts of me aren’t all bad. i went to hell and back and i am not all bad.

Waving his big brother off, Leo slinks away into the shadows of lair, winding his way back to the medbay. The edges of his vision grow fuzzy as he goes, his legs suspiciously heavy. This day has been an Ordeal, to say the least—and Leo cannot wait until he can find somewhere to curl up and just. Not exist for a while.

A thought flickers across his mind, the pain abating for a moment.

The spell is broken, some part of him realizes. 

Another part laughs, incredulously.

Leo has been hiding it for weeks, ignoring the odd strain on his ninpo, like something was caught in his teeth or his mask was on too tight—as if that wide blue sky, sparkling and free dropped off, real boundaries caging in his mystic powers.

It wasn’t that the spell had destroyed his ninpo or ruined it while active, but Leo knows now that in choosing to hide his pain in an admittedly dangerous manner cramped some intrinsic part of him, in a cage large enough to pretend to be free in, but a cage nevertheless. Trapped in there with his spiraling thoughts, the inability to let the part of him forever changed by the prison dimension stretch its legs, every part of life was cast with a darker, hopeless, fragile reality. The longer that lethal, eagle-eyed version of himself stayed contained, the more he began to hate himself, albeit unknowingly. The spell was a slow and steady damper, spreading lies and deception.

But when it broke free, when he faced the Krang with a pair of swords and his Certified Irritating Smile, Leo realized that he didn’t abhor that part of him as much as he thought.

Because at that time, crouched atop the Crying Titan, holding the line between his brothers and the naga, Leo knew that it was only because of who he became after the prison dimension, a little rougher, a little fiercer, that he could protect his family and hold his own.

And that wasn’t so bad?

Was it?

Holding up a hand swirling with blue, Leo smiles to himself. No.

A short while ago, he would’ve crumpled and begun to complain about the injustice about the situation, the fact that he cannot live like this, but Leo knows better. Thanks to the unwavering patience of his older brother and the healing effects of time. This is his life—fighting the Krang, growing up, and being the leader that he needs to be.

When he gets knocked down, he gets back up.

His shoulder barks, impatiently reminding him that it needs care, like, now. 

Geez, can’t a turtle give himself an inspiring speech?

Trudging up the last set of steps, he feels himself sag with relief at the familiar lighting of their medical room, a warm, buttery shade of globe-like lights Mikey picked out to try and ease the experience of whoever’s stuck in there, stringing them low over the beds. (There’s a harsher, strong light to check wounds with. Leo loves ambiance as much as his little brother, but as the team medic, he had to put his foot down somewhere. Especially when shrapnel got embedded in Donnie’s shell after the Shredder.)

Leo knocks softly on the doors to the medbay, sensing a purple interest flickering. He could cry—he has no idea how he got through that fight without Donnie among his brothers, but Leo’s home and his twin is here.

"You still awake, Don?" he asks, craning his neck around the corner, unable to help the smile on his face.

"Don't pretend like my being asleep would stop you from coming in here anyway." His twins sarcastic tone curls out of the room, tinged with the fondness he saves only for Leo.

Figuring that's a good an invitation as any, Leo slips in, hissing softly at the freezing temperature the bay is kept at, rubbing at his scales.

“I have an extra hoodie over there.” Donnie points without looking at Leo or the piece of clothing, typing some last bits of information on a purple screen hovering in the air. “When you let me patch you up, brother dear.”

Just like Raph. Mother hens.

(purple pinches blue’s side.)

i heard that, brat.

Donnie waves a hand, and the glowing displays fade, leaving an alert, gold gaze that passes over him once, twice—gathering all the information he needs. He sweeps around the room, a whirlwind of grabbing bandages and antiseptics, finding a lamp to crane over Leo’s body, as well as a bucket and a rag.

Leo extends his arm out carefully, a bird stretching out its broken wing, trusting Donnie to take over.

Which… doesn’t quite happen right away.

“Doctor? The prognosis?” Donnie asks as he takes his right arm in his hands, staring down his snout at him with expectant eyes.

(leo knows this is part of his apology, part of the ‘i’m sorry i yelled at you but i am having trouble saying it out loud right now.)

(he can hear the waver in donnie’s voice.)

“Uh. Donnie? It’s like, right there in front of you. I think you can—”

“I’m so sorry, Doctor, but we won’t be able to proceed with the operation if you aren’t—”

"Dee." Leo rolls his eyes, before falling back into that place as team medic, easy as falling water. “It’s three lacerations, about an inch deep each, maybe check a little more on the third one. Unclear if I need stitches—I can’t see from this angle, but I don’t think she had anything toxic on her claws, so I should be okay without antibiotics.”

The line of tension slowly bunching Donnie’s shoulders smooths away, and he gets to work, cleaning the wound. Leo swallows the yelp that rises in his throat as something bright and burning brushes over his shoulder, the pain way too tethering to reality. Donnie leans down, scouring the claw marks with a sharpshooter’s eye.

What seems like hours pass.

Thankfully, Barry actually made his family a motley bunch of super-soldiers, and Leo bets that by tomorrow afternoon, he’ll be back up and running—raising hell with two swords once more. And facing whatever shitshow’s apparently been happening beneath their noses this whole time.

“I think you’ll be fine without stitches, Nardo.” He flicks his goggles down. “As usual, our Defies All Scientific Logic ninpo is already knitting the gashes back together. Unless you want stitches…?”

“Who wants them, Donald. Who.”

“I am going to start wrapping now,” Donnie finishes matter-of-factly, purple wreathing around his hands.

He unwinds the bandages with smooth, methodical motions, wrapping Leo’s shoulder with just the precise amount of pressure to protect the wounds from the outside without causing any pain. If he wasn’t so squeamish about blood (the fact that Donnie’s willing to do this speaks leagues), Donnie would have been a wonderful candidate for the medic.

His twin gives Leo’s shoulder a lame pat, face carefully blank.

Even his ninpo, purple and crackling, waits at the wings.

Leo can't stand this shit a second longer.

“Dee—I hope you aren’t thinking about what you said earlier. I know you didn’t mean it and I forgive you. Honestly, I hadn’t really thought of it too much until I got here, and you started acting like a stick was caught in your butt.”

Donnie shoots him a withering glare.

“I forgive you, Don,” Leo tries again, the corners of his mouth upturning with affection. “You were worried, and I’d do the same thing.” He hides a smile with a knowing look. “And I know how cranky you get in the evenings…”

Exploding into motion, as if he couldn’t stand holding it in any longer, Donnie shoves Leo over to clamber into the seat to get all up in his business. A purple wind comes to curl up against his own blue self, purring in that not-place.

“Of course I was worried! The four of you came busting in here like a small army of buses ran over your bodies back and forth for fun. I was mad, but I didn’t have to be mean. I’m sorry, Nardo.”

Leo pokes his beak cheerfully. Donnie’s lip curls.

(on the bridge between their minds he says—i forgive you. how could i not forgive the other half of me?)

“Someone’s being so nice to me, today,” Leo sing-songs, grinning broadly at Donnie’s scowl.

His twin smacks Leo in the face with the promised hoodie.

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Not planning on it, asshole,” he quips back.

Slipping into soft and worn and slouchy piece of clothing, Leo snuggles into Donnie’s side, tucking his feet underneath his body. They fall into a comfortable silence.

This is when Leo allows himself to finally look at the kid—heart hiccuping, ignoring the voices in his head whispering is this your fault who could know—

Casey, dead to the world, snores with no abandon, swaddled in a couple of haphazard, non-matching blankets; bruised scraped and definitely in need of a shower, but safe in the care of his family. Leo sinks into blue, ninpo swirling into his vision, an iridescent film washed with purples—an impressive amount of Donnie’s ninpo fanning out across the medbay, powering the different machines, light, security.

And…uh. Green?

Not April. Not a dark green, a forest at night, beneath a blanket of sprawling stars.

A bright and burning green that hurts to look at, that regards Leo with a calculating cool.

He stands his ground. Casey Jones is his brother.

The green curled around the kid remains a heartbeat longer, before pulling back and revealing a sea of aquamarine, dimmed, but alive. Still rolling with different shades of green and blue, past and present.

Leo sends a single thread of blue arcing toward the sea. Wherever the kid is, he’ll be there too. Just to be sure.

He resists the embarrassing urge to rush to the kid’s side and smooth down his hair. Barely.

Maybe he’ll settle for never letting Casey leave the lair ever again, which seems, like, totally reasonable.

Donnie rubs at his snout with the back of one hand and pushes his mask up to get a better look at Leo, even though they’re only inches apart.

“They got in right before you and Raph, and he basically stumbled over to the bed and collapsed face down. He wasn’t hurt too bad, other than the snake bite, which, ouch and gross at the same time—mostly exhausted and overstimulated,” he recounts, eyes going unfocused as he runs through his recent memory. “And I didn’t leave his side once.”

Leo didn’t even have to think about how much he’s freaking out about the kid, and Donnie just knew. Knew that Leo would want someone there to make sure Casey wasn’t alone when he woke up, even though his condition wasn’t critical, even though it wasn’t of massive importance.

Donnie says it because it is what Leo would have wanted. Simple as that.

His eyes prick.

“About the bite—was that the Krang just flooding his system with empyrean?”

“Based on what we know about the stuff... yes? But, the more I research I’ve done—which, I should’ve known something had gone wrong because the lair was too peaceful for too long—empyrean might not be inherently evil. I was talking with Mikey, and even he said that it might not be good or bad—it’s just a major source of power. It bends and molds itself to the bearer, and because the snake lady is... evil, its presence in Casey nullified his ninpo and stifled who knows what. But if Barry said that it powers all yokai, and even though the kid’s a human, now that the snake’s gone, the empyrean is having a chance to bend itself to Casey’s body. And if this stuff is called a Krang-killer.” Donnie taps his chin. “Then if we could get our hands on some, then we could maybe make a weapon powerful enough to handle business.”

Leo sits there, stunned.

He hadn’t even begun to approach the problem of how to defeat the Krang permanently, as he very well remembers, it took everything his whole family had and he’s almost entirely sure that all of them are still alive.

But to have Donnie so clearly and confidently lay out a plan that just might work…

It is as though his twin grabbed the dark clouds with two mighty hands and yanked them away, letting pure, undiluted sunshine sweep through the medbay.

“You’re a genius, Dee,” Leo breathes, every bit the awed, amazed younger twin from their youth.

A ghost of a true smile flits across Donnie’s face.

“I almost forgot. Casey Junior did say one thing, and it was, word for word, ‘I wish you could’ve seen him out there.’ I must say—seeing what Angelo had to show, I agree,” Donnie finishes stately, leaning forward to unhook his battle shell with ease.

“I should’ve told you a long time ago,” Leo winces, trying to turn a grimace into a grin. A couple parts of his body shriek back at him.

Swallowing his pride, the part that insists you thought you were doing the right thing, Leo looks at his twin straight in the eye and says, “I am sorry. I should have let you in, and I didn’t, and I hurt you.”

Donnie nudges their foreheads together.

(the space between blue and purple is tender, the hurt of not being told thrumming.)

(but it is not a great and unfixable hurt. it is flexible and yielding and purple will not walk away, not ever.)

“You still can.”

(Leo must be hallucinating. Donnie is being way too nice.)

(Or maybe this is his family following through on their promises, to understanding with compassion and patience that Leo’s journey towards healing is anything but linear.)

As Leo walks his twin through the last couple of months with his episodes, cheeks flaming with guilt over not telling Donnie about what was happening, Donnie grows silent at times and questioning at others, prodding Leo for more information—his mirrored eyes clear as day, only that i am your twin and if i don’t know you then no one does glimmering in them.

(Questions included, but were not limited to:

1. At what point did you think a magic tattoo was a good idea?

2. Do you go shopping in the Hidden City a lot?

3. Did you kill those yokai or just maim them for life?

4. What if you turn into some kind of dragon turtle now? I can’t see that being a good look for you.

And.

5. Why do you think you have to bear these things alone?

Answers included:

1. Shut up, Dee.

2. Enough to have a few punch cards at some places. I’ll take you sometime.

3. I’m not a murderer, if that’s what you’re asking. Raph already lectured me within an inch of my life.

4. Shut up, Dee.

And.

5. I wish I knew, Donnie. It shouldn’t be such a hard lesson to learn.

Just as Raph, strong and faithful Raph, promised, there is no disgust or fear anywhere in Donnie—no flinching no swearing no balking. He sits there with a keen gaze and tempered features and tapping fingers, wholly keyed into Leo’s story.

“I was still so afraid of the Krang, and ready to do anything to erase the last parts of me affected by them, but…then that.” He waves his arms around, to demonstrate his overpowered self. “Happened, and I realized that kind of desperation brings nothing good.

“And it is not an excuse, but I truly didn’t want you to be wrong, Dee, especially after you were so hopeful and excited to tell me that I wouldn’t always be like this.” Leo brings his winding story full of bad plans and worse consequences to a close.

“Leo, my brother. As much as I appreciate you being sensitive to my hatred for being wrong with statistics—if being wrong means that I can help and understand you more, then by all means, I would love to be so.”

“Well I hope you remember saying this, long into the future.” Leo winks cheekily.

“You’re lucky there’s so much going on with the Krang and the Hidden City, because otherwise I would be verbally processing this much more with you, and I think you know full well it wouldn’t be pretty.”

Leo flashes his most charming smile.

Donnie melts, just like he knew he would.

(but leo will remember this, indeed long into the future. he will remember the brief hurt flickering over raph’s face, donnie’s face—pinched expressions and downturned mouths asking—why didn’t you let us in? why do you have to do things alone?)

(and leo will remember in the early mornings, the long afternoons, the late nights. he will remember that it never feels better to shut himself in—that red and purple, orange and green, and aquamarine are like pillars of stone and iron, strong enough to waistband whatever leo might throw their way.)

“What did the Krang seem like?”

A bolt of that long-standing fear, a familiar friend to Leo, shoots through his body, fluttering in his stomach, his heart skipping a beat.

And he rides it out.

He acknowledges the visceral reaction that those pink bastards create within him, and he lets it go.

“Just about as unhinged as last time, but she was… a snake? The snake lady, and I have yet to understand how that happened. Oh—and her main power is… fear? Whatever that is. She went on and on about choosing that form, blah blah—you know how much I hate long villain speeches. It seems pretty gnarly, whatever whole situation is.”

Donnie chews on this for a moment. “If I were to say anything, it’d be that usually those long villain speeches provide useful context to the plan.”

“If the cost of knowing their plan is listening to that horrible excuse for public speaking, then I’m content to fumble around in the dark,” Leo snaps back, lifting his chin petulantly.

“There is really no one like you, Nardo.” Donnie's mouth quirks with a not-grin. “Thankfully, Plan B over there can maybe fill in the gaps.”

“Hopefully,” Leo echoes, trailing off. “I wish you’d been there Dee. I know I had my Super Murder self alive and well… but—”

“I know what you mean. Next time, I will be, and it’ll be all of us against the Krang. Twice as hard, right?” His twin wraps an arm around his shoulders gently, purple flashing through his markings.

Leo takes in his brother’s sharp as glass expression, the stubborn set to his jaw, the I Will Go Down Swinging eyes.

“Together,” he agrees, feeling that part of him stolen by the Krang’s shadow come back slowly, drawn back by the raw understanding, the fierce protectiveness, and aching love of his twin—of his whole family.

“Woah!” Donnie exclaims, gasping with no small amount of amazement as the dragon’s tail slinks down Leo’s arm to draw as close as it can to where his twin now sits. The tail undulates, a smooth and peaceful river of shimmering scales and white spikes, followed by a gentle purr. Leo thinks there might be a matching pair of gold, winking eyes, peering over his other shoulder.

“It does that now—for Raph too.” He shrugs, pleased at the visible wonder stretching across his twin's face. “I think it couldn’t really move that much with the spell weighing it down, and now that’s gone… who knows. Maybe it’s in a better mood.”

“It is distinctly less terrifying.”

Leo laughs. “That too.”

“Do you think it can move over your whole body? Maybe detach??” His twin’s hands are itching toward the goggles, ready to begin cataloguing all the new abilities and powers of the dragon that curls comfortably against Leo’s back.

“You’ll have plenty of time to figure it all out.” Leo yawns, resting his head on Donnie’s shoulder.

(“I will make you love me more than our other brothers,” Donnie hisses at the dragon. “Just you wait.”

Leo rolls his eyes.)

They continue to sit together, squished tightly against one another, watching Casey take even breaths in his sleep. Back before everything went bananas, Leo would just… sit with Donnie for hours, neither of them speaking. Leo would read comics and Donnie would tap away on his phone, each content to be around the other.

Drinking in someone else’s presence, someone else you know better than the back of your hand is a different kind of speaking, of communicating.

“I should be angry with you,” Donnie whispers, nudging Leo’s side with an elbow.

“But you don’t have to be,” Leo sing-songs back, grinning ever so sweetly.

His twin harrumphs and curls into a ball, pressed against Leo, the string lights illuminating that face he knows so well. Intelligent and angular and proud—just as proud as Leo, and fierce. Fiercer than a tempest, than the Krang today. Leo can’t wait to loose Donnie on the snake woman. She won’t see it coming.

“I should be angry with you, but I am actually so damn proud that you came and talked to me…eventually. After a few weeks so minus a couple points for that. But you did it, you faced your fear in your own, chaotic Leo way, and I’m proud. But if you keep something like that from me again, I’m burning your comic books.”

Leo blinks, his twin’s encouragement a whirlwind of love and threats—like usual.

“Warranted. But it won’t be without repercussions to something you love.”

“Fair.”

They shake on it.

And collapse into giggles.

“We’re such idiots.” Leo wipes a tear, laughing hard enough to hurt his stomach.

Donnie shakes with his own giggles, his mirth casting a softer, younger quality to his usually alert, stony demeanor.

“Affirmative, brother mine.”

~

“I think today was a win for random scanning.”

“Donnie—ugh no—”

“No, I think I actually have proper grounds for it now. Random scans are back, baby. Deal with it,” Donnie interrupts with ease, a purple display stretching a soft glow across the medbay. His fingers begin to fly through the air, weaving a song of coding and information and circuits like a conductor before his symphony.

One mystic screen bumps into Leo’s head, hard enough to make him hiss.

He thinks that was on purpose.

And Leo whines about it for a bit, but who’s he kidding? Most people only meet one or two people in their whole lifetime that fuss and look after one another like his family does, and he ended up with four. Or five? Six maybe?

(Does Barry count?)

(Day by day basis for that one.)

Yeah.

He can deal with it.

Chapter Text

Casey yawns, stretching. A few of his joints give satisfying pops.

Blinks his eyes open to a hazy, blurry world.

Somewhere inside him, a voice asks should i be worried what is going on i don’t remember falling asleep—

But there is no distant screaming, no blaring alarms, and he is more than happy to relax into the drawn-out process of waking up.

He is sixteen years old and very much so allowed to want to sleep in.

Briefly considering drifting off again, Casey notices a blue strand tethering him here, holding fast and strong.

I guess that isn’t an option.

Casey stretches out his arms, sore and tight, doing his best to ignore the phantom chains hanging weightily on his wrists. His thigh throbs with an odd sensation he should know…

“She got you good,” someone notes, wryly.

“Leo,” Casey breathes, everything coming back into focus. A glimmer of memories—a mask fitted over his head, terror like he’s never felt before, pokes out a curious head from a corner in his mind.

His brother smiles and scoots closer to the bed, placing his head near Casey’s right hand. His cheek squishes out, and with his gooey soft eyes, Casey almost wants to laugh—Leo looks so young there.

(blue holds the clawed memories back.)

(but not for long.)

“You okay, kid?”

Taking a deep breath, Casey nods gently, allowing himself to face the full force of what happened in the Hidden City—at that large statue of a horned man.

The Krang.

“Hey—hey, it’s alright. It was scary, but you’re here now, you’re safe,” Leo says, his expression swimming under the film of tears stretching across Casey’s vision.

He almost feels separated from his body—like one part of him watches calmly from a distance, whilst the rest of him buckles beneath the residual horror of the Krang that is also a snake and a woman finding him, chaining him up, threatening to do—

Oh.

“Leo, Leo—the collars, she’s going to start using them on the Terrors and from there start conquering the Hidden City and, and, they’re back the Krang are back and—”

Casey hurtles back into himself, a shooting star, burning bright and painful. There’s bad news, Mikey eating the last slice of pizza, and then there’s this, the reality that they will have to fight their worst enemy all over again.

(they barely survived the first time.)

Burying his face in his hands, Casey begins to cry, defeat palpable. Sensei sent him all the way to another world, sent him to start his life over in one of the hardest ways possible, and it was all for nothing. 

He remembers yellow eyes and the bite to his leg, an alien fire sweeping thorough his body and eddying his every thoughts.

He remembers a fear like he’s never known, ripping up his throat and shattering out of his mouth like broken glass.

He remembers begging leo leo hurry with fading aquamarine, being snuffed out by that alien green, swarmed with the violence of the Krang.

He remembers still reaching out, searching for anything—a quirk in his side as that green stops burning so brightly, and just looks at him, letting in a new wave of terror as Casey realized, i am locked in this body with it.

(he does not remember that green something taking a closer look at him.)

He thinks he imagined Sensei, smile sharp as a knife, features cloudy as a thunderstorm pushing through the veil, finding him. Or was that Leo?

Casey is falling, he is plummeting, there is no end in sight, only his dropping stomach and his aching body and his heart sinking sinking sinking—

A blue hand, sparkling like the rich night sky, stops his free fall in one confident, yet tender movement. It wraps a cool sensation around him—watching sunsets and somersaulting off of skyscrapers and being awoken by your brothers’ snoring during a sleepover.

Like a bungee jumper strapped to a tiny cord, Casey bounces back into reality, head spinning only slightly from the snapping sensation of Leo plucking him from a dangerous spiral back into his own hands. 

The bed dips beneath a phantom weight, but he’s too busy counting his heartbeat to notice anything beyond basic bodily functions.

Casey runs his hands over the fluffy comforter draped over him, flexing and point his feet. He blinks at the string lights looping and twirling, just barely scraping his head. And finally, he counts Leo’s yellow stripes, which are only inches away from his face, oddly enough, just like he always does to calm himself down—one, two, three…

“…case…?”

His brother’s voice emerges from silence, or perhaps not silence, but Casey’s mind blocking out his senses in a desperate attempt to calm him down.

The world fully returns, once more, plunging Casey back into the cruel reality of time looping itself over and over and over again with no escape—no escape from aliens from his lost family from himself.

“Casey? You back with me?”

Shivering, he realizes Leo now stands at his bedside, green hands encircling his wrist—as if he couldn’t decide what to do, besides being close by. Arm wrappings disheveled, mask discarded, Casey watches as his red markings glow—ninpo humming a song only aquamarine can hear.

A beacon, to guide him home.

Exhaling and puffing out his cheeks, Casey nods gently. Leo runs a pair of gold eyes, simmering with concern over him, before releasing his grasp and sitting atop a stool, rolling it closer to the bed—clearly not appeased yet.

“Yeah,” he sighs, rubbing feeling back into his face. “S’what you said, snake lady really did a number on me.”

Expression too grave for his young age, Leo clears his throat.

“What…what do you remember?”

(blue almost feels…scared? apologetic?)

(aquamarine reaches a hand out.)

(reaches a hand out and smacks blue right across the face.)

Leo yelps, jumping in his seat, giving him the stink-eye.

“Ow! Casey!”

“Leo. Tell me you didn’t skip over the villain speech.”

Unbothered, Leo shrugs as he checks his nails.

“Is it a crime, Case? Is it a crime to challenge that narrative?”

Casey could strangle the guy.

“The narrative—Leo it’s so we know what’s going on! Context!”

“You sound just like Donnie—”

“With good reason! If I wasn’t here, then you’d really be in the dark, you loser!”

“Brat,” Leo bitches.

“Jerk,” fires back Casey.

The stare-off begins.

Leo breaks it first, grumbling without venom something like i know you guys hate those speeches too.

“Ugh fine. Maybe it was dumb, but I had other priorities,” he mutters, gold gaze going dark as he crosses his arms. Ever the petulant child.

“You did, and I’m glad Leo. Thank you for coming after me.”

Neither the human nor the turtle need to say anything to that, for the only thought in both of their minds is—always of course no matter where you go i will find you.

“She must have gotten me shortly after I landed in the tunnel, because everything went dark pretty fast. When I came to, the Terrors were there, holding me down so she could get those chains around me,” Casey barrels on, the words rushing out, a fast stream. “I tried to get away, kicking at them, and that’s when…she bit me? Maybe? Things got fuzzy after that for a while, but once we got to the Crying Titan, I was fully awake and then she gave me the lowdown. Apparently, the tiniest piece of herself managed to worm itself free in the EPF containment center and there were other supernatural beings locked alongside her. It was luck that she found a being as powerful as the ‘naga’, and she did her whole, Krangify thing.”

Leo squawks indignantly, “She told me that she chose that form specifically!”

Casey shoots him a blank look.

“Why did you believe her?”

“…fair point.”

“Anyways,” Casey moves on. “The Sister escaped without any news coverage, which actually makes sense because I’m sure the EPF wouldn’t want that getting out. She found her way into the Hidden City, started bossing around the Winged Terrors with that fear power, and…okay, this is where things get bad. Just stay with me Leo. Her main plan is to resurrect her little brother, using the corpse in the Crying Titan.”

The awful, ugly, gruesome truth hangs between them, suspended by grief and fear.

Casey wishes he wasn’t the one who had to break the news to Leo; Leo, who was forever changed by those pink bastards.

Pale, pupils shrunken, Leo whispers, “I should’ve remembered. That corpse is where the Shredder got the empyrean he needed. Dammit, and after that fight we just left. Why didn’t we destroy it?”

His brother digs his fingers into his sides, bending beneath the weight of it all.

“You can’t think like that, Leo. You guys just defeated like, your biggest family enemy ever. You guys didn’t know about the Krang yet, right?” Casey asks, leaning down to catch Leo’s gaze. “But the little Krang is the reason for those circles and symbols we keep finding—it was the Sister beginning the process of raising her brother. And the collars? The collars are for the yokai powerful enough to be sacrificed for the final spell. They keep the yokai under her control while also concentrating their mystic powers. That part of the plan woke me right the hell up, and you guys finally got there when she decided to put one of them on me,” he reaches a hand up to his throat, the horror inexplicable.

How did he get all of that out without breaking down?

Because of the glassy-eyed, distant state Leo goes into—not to plan or to scheme, but to bear the full burden of just how shitty this situation is, because one of them has to be the anchor for the other. 

His brother opens and closes his mouth, no words emerging.

(blue stumbles, hard.)

“It’s alright, Leo. It’s alright to be scared. It’s just me.”

(blue crumbles.)

Bowing completely, head in his hands, Leo warbles, “This is so much worse than I thought it was. How are we going to be able to do this?”

Casey isn’t…quite prepared enough to comfort Leo, the leader of their family, the one who always has a plan. He never really had to for Sensei…but that’s an unhelpful way to think, he decides, because he never could have expected to be in a situation like this, either.

Summoning the strength of mind and will his family has taught him day after day, month after month, he grabs a hold of Leo and stares at him clear and bright.

“When the others wake up, we’ll figure it out. We beat them once, and we can do it again. You destroyed the collars and hurt the Sister enough to slow her down for a few days, which is huge. But you and I aren’t going to solve there, here in the medbay, exhausted and beat-up. We wait for our family, and take it one step at a time, together.”

Leo nods, faintly.

(aquamarine chants—come on blue.)

(blue alights once again.)

“Together,” he parrots, returning to himself. He sharpens, a sword in skilled hands, gold fire in his eyes.

“So you wanna tell me about the Unhinged Leo I saw down there?”

Snorting, cheeks flushed, Leo perks up a bit at the amusement in his tone, clearly happy to be focused on something else.

(the thought of two thirds of the krang returning is simply. too much for the two of them to continue to discuss.)

His brother begins to babble, yet another sign of his nervousness, quick words and broad hand gestures filling the silent medbay with a vibrancy and energy neither really feel. Casey strings together Leo’s words along a frail thread, trying to keep up as best he can. As Leo draws to a close, Casey marvels at what his brother did for him, facing just as traumatizing an enemy with a pair of swords and a reckless spirit.

Casey figured the tattoo had something going on with it, but he couldn’t have imagined Leo would resort to magic.

(Sensei…wasn’t great with it.)

But hiding your pain like that? For your family? Casey knows exactly what that feels like because he’s been having to do it more and more, and he is beginning to wonder if the turtles can see it anyway, and they’re biding their time before they bring it up to him. Little things, Donnie wearing his goggles a certain way, Mikey floating around, Leo doing almost everything because everything reminds him of Sensei have become harder and harder to ignore to brush off to move on from.

He would be more sad if he wasn’t so angry about his reactions to it. Hasn’t enough time passed with his family? Hasn’t he had enough to process and to mourn? When will the pain dull?

Will it ever?

Grief will tear him to pieces.

An oily, bitter taste fills his mouth.

No.

I am grateful for my second chance.

It lessens the cracking sensation, if minimally.

Because Casey is grateful and he’s got some whoop-ass stored for Leo, because hiding your ugly parts was not part of their deal.

Elbowing Leo as he sits up, Casey glares at him—his own problems sinking beneath the weight of my brother better not pull that kind of shit again.

(aquamarine and blue are toe to toe.)

Gold flares back—equal the fire, twice the stubbornness.

“I thought we agreed that you don’t scare me! When are you going to understand that?”

Raw, undiluted emotion flickers across Leo’s face, temper hesitating.

“When I thought enough time had passed for me to almost lose it! But that never came, and I realized, there will never be enough time for me to get over it,” he fires back, beak scrunched up. “I know it was a bad idea, I was just…desperate.”

A part of Casey seizes up at the i thought enough time had passed because that is precisely his own problem with the loss of Sensei and Uncle Tello and Master Michelangelo. He’s sure someone out there somewhere is laughing at fate’s irony, the way that Leo mirrors him so well.

Casey isn’t laughing. But he isn’t mad, not really. Not when his struggles are similar, too similar and he will not be speaking up any time soon.

And he has to say something, quick—the woe is me is creeping up and around Leo, and he is one hundred percent sure it will stick around.

“Well, I hope you learned your lesson you blockhead—”

Leo rolls his eyes.

“Damn, okay Charlie Brown—”

Casey shushes him with a finger, nose turned up in the air.

“It was a bad idea, but it doesn’t mean you should feel bad about it. I know it seemed like it would be safer to be around us like that, but maybe we don’t want safe, Leo. Maybe we just want you,” he grins, genuinely. “No matter how stinky and gross and weird and—”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Leo snipes, a smile hiding at the corners of his mouth.

(aquamarine nods firmly at the wavering in blue.)

i mean it.

(the gaping chasm closes in blue.)

i’m not sure what all it can do.

(exhaling softly, aquamarine presses on.)

we’ll just have to see.

“How is the dragon now?”

Leo reaches a hand to him, wordlessly.

Casey gapes as something moves across his scales, fluid and graceful, twining around his arm like silk. It is the dragon’s head, sleek and elegant and fierce, gold eyes holding him 

“It…moves around now. Ha! This is hilarious, Dee and Raph only got its tail. You earned some more interest,” Leo watches in amazement as the dragon curls around his wrist, its snout peeking from his hand as if to separate from the scales—to take flight.

Casey wiggles his fingers, delighted to see the dragon follow with undivided attention.

“Can I?”

“Go for it, kid.”

Brushing a hand against the tattoo, Casey gasps as his own fingers turn the same shade of blue as the dragon.

Not a bad blue.

Not the blue gathering at the edge of the resistance during the harshest parts of winter.

No.

Blue like the perfect cannonball in that rich guy’s pool last summer, blue like the way Mikey’s blueberry muffins melt in your mouth, blue like the way Leo’s roaring laughter settles around your shoulders like a worn-in coat.

“What does it feel like?” Leo asks quietly, not moving out of fear of ruining the moment.

“Kind of ticklish. Maybe a feather? This is wicked cool, Leo. Like, I already think you’re a badass, but this really cements it.”

“Oh really, and here I was thinking I was a jerk!”

“Those things aren’t mutually exclusive,” Casey rolls his eyes—such a drama queen. “Has anything happened since I’ve been out?”

“No,” Leo shakes his head. “Donnie headed back to the lab a little bit ago and everyone else is asleep.”

Casey knows, the same way he knows the sun will rise each day, that Leo—exhausted and bleary and worn-out, has patiently waited at his side, to make sure nothing goes wrong, to make sure that he does not wake up alone. Leo complains quite a bit, and is every bit a mother-hen, but it warms something cold and long-dormant inside of Casey to know that this turtle, no matter in this reality or another timeline, will always understand him.

Leo keeps a bright eye on him, attention undivided.

“Can we talk about that million-dollar shot?” he suddenly asks, eyes earnestly widened with excitement.

An embarrassed laugh bubbles out of him before he knows it, and Casey raises a hand to his flaming cheeks.

“I saw the snake had you pinned, and I thought to myself, who the hell am i gonna say ‘stripes for life’ with if this idiot gets killed?” he manages to get out with a straight face, voice flattening into a monotone.

Leo roars with laughter, the sound punching through the quiet tranquility of the lair.

Wiping an imaginary tear away, he chuckles, “As self-proclaimed president of the red-eared slider club, I suppose you do make a valid point.”

Casey shoves at Leo, scoffing—ignoring the angry red of his wrists from the manacles. Leo’s gaze flickers down to them anyway, the smile in his eyes snuffing out.

“When she bit me, that empyrean junk got into my system and everything—including my ninpo—go absolutely nuts. It was like grabbing a powerline,” he shudders, remembering those brutal moments suspended between blacking out and bare consciousness, something forked and dangerous and electric coursing through his body. “Somehow, once Mikey got me free, it lessened and when I saw you, I just…pushed through it, I guess. I did what I had to do,” Casey admits softly, falling back against the pillows.

Leo nods with nothing but crystal-clear understanding.

It is the Hamato way, to do what you must to protect your family, to protect innocents and young ones and those unable to protect themselves. It is what Sensei taught him in stolen moments and borrowed time, before the sun and after the moon, hushed whispers and reverent gazes.

There, in the noblest actions of the Hamato’s, does ninpo break free of the bearer’s limitations, skimming another reality.

“How is it now?” Leo wiggles his fingers in the air as if to signify Casey’s own ninpo, and its state after the Krang’s tampering. 

A thrill of anxiety winds its way down Casey’s spine.

What if something is wrong?

Clenching his jaw in concentration, Leo lines his body with blue, readying himself.

(blue lends some of that famous iron will to aquamarine.)

then i will be right here.

Trusting Leo to be his anchor, he dives down into his envisioned ocean, a free-fall into his powers. At first, the waves rumble on, aquamarine shimmering at the surface, darker tones swimming underneath.

Seems fine to me, Casey decides, beginning the ascent to the surface.

Something strange happens.

Time slows down to a crawl. He stops, floating, suspended, caught.

Seized mid-exhale, eyes fallen shut, Leo becomes a statue, blue flickering up and down.

Strange. His ninpo isn’t affected.

(your spiritual essence does not bend so easily to the manipulation of time. fear not, though, he cannot see this.)

Casey’s heartbeat swerves, hammering painfully in his chest.

Um.

What.

(i have watched you, timeless one. i have watched you leave your time to another one, and stay.)

(there have been others who have left their times, but they always return.)

He is but an ant, standing before the tremendous force.

Casey stands his ground. 

There’s nothing for me to go back to.

(hm.)

(do you know what i can do?)

Uh, quite a bit, from what I’ve heard.

Casey folds his hands together to stop their trembling.

(it is true. i am the source of the yokai’s power, i am the source of wonderful good and terrible evil. beings have used me to heal and to rip and to mend and to break.)

The kernel of an absurd plan forms. An absurd, foolish, possibly damning plan.

Are you what forms our ninpo?

(no. though i may have sway over it, as you saw the one called the sister wield me for. the spiritual essence of the hamato clan lies beyond my…realm.)

Good. Good, he can hide in his ninpo. The green does not see him there.

But you know that I’m not from this time. So how does time work with you?

(i am not bound by its constraints.)

Somewhere in-between waking up from yesterday’s disaster and this very moment, a cord snapped within Casey and he decided that if the Krang get to try and have their way a second time then I will not let this opportunity pass. If the empyrean is as powerful as everyone says, is not bound by time, then Casey knows what he has to try.

The green begins to fade, as if bored.

Wait!

Green flares, a supernova; his mind erased white for a single heartbeat.

(you dare grab a hold of me?)

I’m not, oh shit, sorry.

He sees an aquamarine hand wrapped around the roiling green and lets go, as if scalded.

The muted shrieking stops instantly.

(what is it that you wish to say, child outside of time?)

Maybe you could help us fight the Krang?

(i see. i am, as you say, the krang-killer.)

(what might you offer me?)

Think think think think.

The chance to experience exactly what you call me. A child outside of time.

Casey shoves the wild, foolish hope deep beneath the waves of sea-green, hiding in the cloudy sand at the very bottom. He prays that he has molded his mind so that the green can only see a desperate human trying to win a war.

Green does the equivalent of tilting its head, an intrigued predator.

(perhaps i will help you, timeless one. you are odd. and you hear my voice.)

So you’ll stay with me?

(for now. the one you call leonardo will break free of the time soon. he is strong. stronger than i thought.)

Shit. Leo will definitely know something is wrong. He can sniff out Casey’s secrets from a mile away (current issues excluded) and there is no way that he will be on board for this crazy plan. He’ll get that pinched little Raph chasm and his eyes will go all dark and Casey hates to let him down.

Okay.

Casey can do this himself.

He is calm.

Until he sees blue markings glow, brighter. Time lurches forward, albeit slowly. Leo’s ninpo slams against the wall baring him in, his body still motionless.

The radiant green remains too obviously bound to Casey’s ninpo.

(blue is coming blue will see.)

Casey spools up the burning green with trembling hands, shoving it down down down, hoping and praying please stay hidden just for now please.

(as you wish, child outside of time. take caution, though. my presence will irrevocably alter your spiritual essence.)

Wait what—

Like the night falling, the green fades away, safely tucked into the cool recesses of the sea. And just in time, too. Leo blinks at him expectantly.

“My ninpo,” he starts, wincing at how his voice breaks. What is going to happen to it?

His brother frowns.

“My ninpo…” Casey whispers, cupping his hands together, the lie a molten brand in his throat waiting to erupt. “Is fine.”

Imagining the aquamarine of his powers funneling forward, without warning, a bright spark falls carelessly into them, as easily as breathing.

Casey could barely make a weapon without it turning into a WMD.

Now he can summon a physical manifestation of it?

He prays that his resolve will hold.

Gold widens at the kernel floating in Casey’s hands, widens with awe and shock and joy—everything Casey isn’t sure he deserves. Leo gravitates toward the spark, watching with no small amount of curiosity as it leaps back and away from him.

The dragon’s head rears back and away, winding seamlessly out of sight, to Leo’s shell.

“Fine seems a little incomplete for what I’m looking at,” Leo notes wryly, gaze flickering up to meet his.

“Fine is what you get,” Casey retorts, half-joking, half-serious. “Though, I’m not sure why the dragon didn’t like that.”

“It’s probably just unimpressed with your little fireworks show. Try harder next time.”

“For the love of—I think it’s time for us to go to bed too, Leo,” he says with a note of finality, rising from the bed to head back to his room.

He’s got one leg swung off of the cot before Leo hurries back into his field of vision.

“Wait!”

“What is it, Leo?”

“I meant to say it earlier,” Leo mutters, looking anywhere but at Casey. “I’m sorry the Krang snatched ya, kid. I’m your big brother and it’s my job to keep you safe—”

Casey holds up a hand. He’s tired, yes, but not too tired to stand up for Leo even when he himself won’t.

“I’m gonna stop you right there. I see that dark place you’re trying to go to, and—Leo, stop it. It was my choice to jump in with no plan, might I add. You should be the one lecturing me,” Casey admits fiercely, insides burning with a combination of embarrassment and indignation. “You jumped in there after me, for Pete’s sake. I know you’d never hurt me. So don’t get all worked up about your tattoo or what happened, because I’m back, I’m safe, and I’m with you guys.”

Leo swallows. The string lights glow in his eyes.

Something swims in them between one blink and the next.

A thick silence settles.

Finally, he cracks a grin.

“Speaking of the guys,” Leo winks conspiratorially, “I’m sure your brothers will have a lot to say.”

Casey groans.

“They’re just worried, Case. Family: comes with the territory, right?”

Comes with the territory.

Just worried.

Comes with the territoryyyyy.

Familyyyyyyyy.

He tips backwards, the lights spinning into oblivion.

(“casey! what were you thinking?” master michelangelo cries, gray streaks shining.

he only wanted to see the stars, casey grumbled to himself. uncle tello told him about pretty shiny things up in the sky, like jewels.

casey is eight. he thinks he’s at least old enough to steal a glance at the night sky.)

(“casey junior, tell me you did not just come back from sneaking out on a mission,” uncle tello warns low and threatening.

“you guys were saying that recruits are dwindling and you know i can help!”

“yes! on missions that aren’t freeing slave camps! where the krang are the most concentrated!”

he grips the edges of the table, imagining the wood breaking beneath his fingers.

like uncle tello does, sometimes. mostly when they lose fighters in the war.

casey is twelve. he can handle himself. sensei kicks his ass like, every day.)

(“you could have been killed, jones!” sensei yells, face in his hands as he slumps over casey’s cot.

casey scowls, flames loud and crackling beneath his skin.

that would be from the krang monster almost gutting him.

“the hound was right behind you, sensei! i couldn’t just stand there!”

casey is fifteen. he sees the way death stalks sensei on the battlefield. a shadow just out of sight. casey will not let it come any closer. uncle tello and raphael are already gone, and sometimes sensei loses himself completely. casey will not let sensei be lost to death.)

(…)

(and always.)

(“i was so worried,” master michelangelo whispers, cradling casey in his small arms, resting his chin atop the crown of his head. “you’re our star, casey, and we just don’t want your light to go out.”)

(“i am not mad, junior. i was scared. the thought of you being out there on a big mission makes my insides flip like a rollercoaster.”

casey doesn’t know what a rollercoaster is, but he assumes they’re not great.

“i just want to help, uncle tello.”

“i know. i’ve been talking with leo and we’ve decided that it might be time to start taking you out on specific missions, different coordinated attacks against the krang—but only under our supervision. and don’t get too excited, momnardo is gonna be all up in your biz the whole time.”

casey feels a rush of…excitement and maybe dread.

he wants to fight the krang, he does.

but they’re scary.

“you see why i was worried, then,” uncle tello notes, missing nothing.

casey nods with wide eyes.

“worry is good out here. it makes you sharp,” the turtle taps his head. “we’ll be right at your side, casey junior.”)

(“squirt, i love you more than anything. if something happened to you, i wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

casey’s lip wobbles.

he hates letting sensei down.

nestling underneath sensei’s real arm, casey tucks his knees to his chest.

“that’s how i feel about you,” he whispers back. “i get so worried every time you walk out onto the battlefield, whether i’m right there or not. what if the roles were reversed? what if the hound was after me? you’d do the same—i know you would.”

sensei sighs, smiling ruefully.

“i hate that you’re right. well. sacrificial moves are a last-ditch effort, okay?”

“then watch your back, old man,” casey snipes back, grinning like the devil.

“what are we going to do with you, casey jones,” sensei murmurs, fondness spilling over. “what are we going to do.”)

it comes with the territory it comes with the territory it comes with the territory—

Bursting out of the cyclone of his past, Casey sags into himself.

“Another spell?” questions Leo, anxiety only partially concealed.

Casey rubs a quick hand under his nose.

It comes away a shiny red.

He cannot speak.

That was too many memories all at once, as if he was plopped before several movies happening all at once at different times, images flooding into his brain like a broken dam, his family that is gone gone gone—will he shatter beneath the weight?

Leo shifts at the grief rising like the tide within Casey.

He thinks he knows where this is going, because this is their routine now, but…

It’s not.

It’s stronger and more violent than ever before.

(casey does not think about the empyrean for more than a second when he realizes.)

(he realizes he may have made a very, very poor decision.)

If he couldn’t keep it together even being near a source of empyrean, sucked into a memory—then what the hell was he thinking when he hid it in his body?

Casey almost can't stand to look at Leo.

So like Sensei in his proud visage and heroic deeds and dumbass quips and deathly calm.

He can’t stand to look away.

So like Sensei in his gentle caring and unbreakable spirit and fierce love and selfless action.

Everything in sight warps and bends and melts together, bathed in that green, and Casey knows that Leo can’t see what is going on and that should be some kind of comfort but it isn’t there is no comfort in this green wasteland where nothing is as it should be and Casey is nothing—

(child. you must learn to calm yourself. my presence thins time.)

What do you mean? What is going to happen?

(existing around one living being in different realities is difficult enough as it is. but to have a bond, a connection such as you do. i am sure my presence is shredding the weak barriers within you.)

What happens if I can’t?

(then your mind will be the grape, and i will be the boot that crushes it.)

The funny thing is, Casey doesn’t even need a mirror to know he’s gone completely white.

It’s too much, too much to contend with the catastrophic problem he’s landed himself into, too much to try and process his memories, too much to…

Casey is going to throw up.

Because the memory of Sensei inflames the raw wound he’d been ignoring.

Thrown back without warning into that heart-wrenching moment atop the Crying Titan, Casey remembers the bewildering seconds where an achingly familiar face swam before him as he was locked in those rune-painted chains. It was the sensation of waking up from the best dream to realize your life isn’t that perfect anymore as he realized it wasn’t Sensei who was there to free him, somehow back from the dead, but Leo. 

Seeing his face so beaten and bloodied up had been a yank on Casey’s time-addled brain, and before he knew it, Casey was gasping Sensei? and the name was awkward and ugly and hard to look at, but it was stuck between the two of them like a neon sign.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t Sensei who was there to save you,” Leo whispers, though it sounds more like a deafening gunshot in the quiet hours of the night.

Of course he knows who I’m thinking about, what I’m thinking about.

Leo’s too perceptive for his own good, for Casey to keep up with.

Casey swallows, concentrating on steadying his breathing. As his heart eases from insane jackhammering to finishing a mild sprint, he wrangles the nerve to broach the subject.

“Leo, you don’t have to say that. I was confused and I had the snake’s gross venom toxic disgustingness inside me. I didn’t really know—”

(be wary of who you call gross venom toxic disgustingness.)

Sorry sorry.

“Don’t trivialize your pain, kid. I’ve got the same face, the same name as the guy. I can face the music—I know it’s hard for you.”

“I’ve been thinking…maybe it’s best if I spend some time away from you.”

What? No!

“Dude—I already told you, it isn’t you who’s doing this.”

“Then what is?”

Casey’s breath catches in his throat.

I can’t tell him.

Leo’s face bravely remains calm.

“I’m just saying, until this thing with the Krang blows over,” he flaps a hand, as if the Krang are a storm that will pass. “I should try and stay away. Your memories are making you sick, and I know who they’re about. So let me try, for you, kid. Let me try and see if this makes anything better.”

It’s not you, Leo, he thinks desperately. This won’t make it better.

But the pragmatic part of Casey, honed by years of bare survival in the apocalypse says if he stays away, then the chances of him finding out about the empyrean lessen.

“Case?”

Eyes blurry, he bobs his head.

“It’s not forever, kid,” Leo says softly. “Just for now. Think of it like an experiment—we’re just trying to sort out all the hidden variables. Oh, wait, gross, I sound like Donnie.”

Mouth wobbling, Casey stares down, miserable.

He thinks I’m upset because he’s staying away—but I can’ tell him, I can’t say it’s because I’m hiding this huge thing from him.

“Okay,” he feels himself agree from far away, a touch louder than a whisper.

The situation makes Casey want to rip his hair out—the green in his veins bending and warping Leo and Sensei’s images together, confused in the midst of seeing how similar the two are in their willingness to do anything for him. His insides burn, the aquamarine sea boiling from the green thundering and stomping around.

(you will burn yourself out if you cannot stop.)

Casey throws his arms around Leo, eyes squeezing shut.

They don’t hug often, so Leo must know how dire things are.

The weight of Leo’s arms settles around his shoulders easily, grounding him outside of his haywire ninpo, his endless stream of thoughts and grief, back into the orbit of his family.

His brother rests his chin atop Casey's head, humming slightly.

He’s not sure how much time passes before Leo moves, leaning back just enough to lock a pair of gold eyes with his own.

“Tomorrow, if you’re feeling up to it, why don’t you go and hang out with Dee and Mikey. Donnie was just telling me about how you haven’t taken him up on that skateboarding sesh,” Leo scrunches his beak with amusement. “The nerve of the youth these days, he says.”

Despite his inner turmoil, Leo’s impression is so perfectly accurate and hilariously offensive that he can’t help but laugh.

(leo knows how to get a smile out of the kid.)

Sucking in a trembling breath, Casey tearily admits, “That’d actually…be nice.”

Confident and assured, Leo smiles at him as if this entire conversation wasn’t a shitshow.

“This isn’t me leaving you—you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Casey ignores the green continuing to singe the edges of his being.

He hopes Leo is right.

—

Casey is laughing, breathlessly. His arms outstretched at his sides, the night sky running cool fingers through his hair, he is on top of the world and weightless and free. Up here, where he could touch the stars, nothing can hurt him—not the Krang, not his memories, not the empyrean mixing and meshing with ninpo…

Nothing.

(not the cleaving of his heart in two after leo’s idea.)

(not the horror of his decision to keep the empyrean.)

(not the weight of his lies.)

Currently siting atop Donnie’s flying battle shell, Casey’s got his feet firmly wedged beneath the pedals, his hands streaming through the blues and purples and blacks of the night—daring gravity to say something, do something.

Nothing can touch him, that is, until Donnie’s voice cuts through the illusion.

“Junior, would you be a darling, and tell me why exactly Leo skipped out on this again?” Donnie calls, from below.

Suspicion thinly veiled in that curling voice of his, Donnie somehow manages to throw Casey off balance—forcing him to grab onto the handles with a gulp.

Staring up at the smoggy stars, as if they could help him, Casey wracks his brain on what to do. 

Does…Casey tell him?

Yes, one part of him insists—his mind, probably.

Right?

Yes that makes sense, they’re twins and it’s not like anything Sensei ever said to him went over Uncle Tello’s head.

Literally ever.

“Um…his arm was kind of bothering him…” he cringes, falling back onto the half-truths he practiced alone earlier.

Dammit Casey Jones. You’re a traitor to yourself.

No, his heart says. You just want to protect Leo. You know this might make things awkward. Besides, it’s not like Leo doesn’t have an arm injury.

Casey doesn’t have to see Donnie’s face to know there is a particular stone-cold stare down there.

“The real reason, if you please,” the turtle drawls, leaving no room for any other option.

“I think it’s because he wanted to give me space, since I was upset about Sensei earlier after the Krang and all,” he mumbles, shoulders rising to his ears.

The words, though quiet as they leave his mouth, wash the sky with that stilted, grimy feeling Casey had felt earlier in his exchange with Leo. It does not help that there’s also the inescapable yet hidden fact that Casey’s gamble with the empyrean now sits like a giant, spiky cactus (a plant he recently learned about) between him and the turtles.

He’s terrified they’ll find out.

He’s terrified they’ll never know.

Donnie’s jetpack falters for a moment, Casey’s heart leaping into his throat as the glowing streets of the city below become a very possible final resting place.

(a purple, winged thing hurtles past aquamarine.)

are you okay, casey? you can talk to me.

(aquamarine nestles against purple—shoving the thrumming green down down down.)

yeah, tello. you don’t have to worry.

“I’ll always worry about you, Junior, even if Leo wins the award for most gray hairs about a human child,” Donnie says back in the real world, returning their flight back to its smooth arc, violet streaks tracing the air gracefully.

Heart rattling in his ears, Casey grips the handles with bleating fingers, figuring he managed to slip under the radar. He had not anticipated that kind of reaction from Donnie, but hopefully they can all chalk it up to a crazy last twenty-four hours.

So.

Great.

Everyone deals with it differently, Casey tries to convince himself.

(“Junior!” Donnie had explained as Casey walked into his lab, sent with a kindly-worded message from Mikey—casey, you are doing great, but would you please tell dee i’m not gonna wait for his purple ass forever.

“Tello, are you almost ready? I think Dr. Delicate Touch is…getting impatient,” announced Casey, shooting a nervous glance over his shoulder, as if the youngest turtle and his terrifying fire-eyes was right there.

“Don’t worry about him,” Donnie flapped a nonchalant hand, turning back to a wall of glittering buttons and levers, which Casey found to be a bold move. “I was on my way, but remembered this battle shell,” he flicked a switch with no small amount of flourish, “and how April would sometimes ride on this version of the flight shell, and thought—maybe Junior would like this.”

Casey stared in awe at the invention as it unfolded, four rotors fanning out, along with a shining set of handlebars and even foot-pedals. It was probably at this point that Mikey’s demands were completely forgotten.

“Tello!” he breathed in awe, utter glee rising uncontrollably to the surface. “That’s amazing! Can we go, can we go now, let’s go I think you’re ready.”

Donnie, pleased as ever, nodded with a wide smile, the same glittering lights of the lab now twinkling in his eyes.

“What powers it?” Casey asked reverently, crouching beside the tech to get a closer look at its quiet system, its expert design.
“Well, now my ninpo, but why don’t you tell me what it used to?” Donnie raised an eyebrow, an expectant sort of pride stretching across his face.

Grinning back at him, Casey ran a skilled hand and a quick eye along the flight shell, peering into the rounded thrusters, looking for its fuel tank, mind racing at the possibilities. Fingers finding a latch, Casey blinked at a bright, shiny silver metal within the shell, different from Donnie’s violet creations.

“No way,” he wheezed, staring at Donnie awed—no, more than awed. Completely bamboozled. “Where did you get your hands on a palladium core, Tello?”

His brother laughed, a dazzling, infectious thing, gold eyes crinkled with delight.

“You’ll sleep better if you don’t know,” Donnie winked, guiding the tech onto his own shell with a purple wind, hands flowing through the air. “But, I’m impressed, Casey. Well done.”

“I had a good teacher,” Casey replied honestly, allowing the hurt of Uncle Tello’s absence flow flow flow through him and leave, a bird free from its cage.

His throat might have burned.

But he grounded himself in the concrete, steadiness of Donnie’s lab, of Donnie himself, of crackling, spiking purple.

See? That wasn’t so hard.

Leo’s pinched expression flitted across his mind.

Sensei’s grieved face, from those final moments in his past world, shattered the image, green pulsing across Casey’s ninpo, his memories, everything—leaving nothing behind.

“Or maybe, you’re a good student,” Donnie took the acknowledgment in stride, breaking Casey from his thoughts. “Now let’s go, before Michael blows a gasket,” he guided Casey toward the glowing lab doors, the two of them hiding their anxious I Hope Dr. Delicate Touch Is Out Of Office Still expressions from one another.

“Too late!” Mikey singsonged menacingly from the entrance, smile unhinged in the way that only a youngest sibling’s can be.)

Now, the orange maniac happily swings by, suspended by a glowing chain connected to what actually appears to be nothing, having a blast pretending that he is Spiderman’s long-lost turtle sidekick, flipping and shooting out orange bursts that look suspiciously like webs.

“…just wait until we get there, Casey! It’s amazinggg…..!” he yells in the brief seconds their paths overlap.

He becomes a little orange fireball blurring further and further away before he can go on.

Master Michelangelo would have loved to do this—be his ridiculous, mystic self out in the open, no Krang to worry about, no gray streaks and frail limbs holding him back.

The waters of his ninpo shift, waves rippling.

(what would you do for the past?)

Something green weaves up his body, parting the aquamarine sea.

…

No.

(does the child between times hesitate?)

No, he answers back firmly. Not today.

(what about tomorrow?)

No.

He imagines himself summoning the waters and flooding the green out, expelling the tantalizing whisper, the barest inclination that he might be able to do something.

Casey’s ninpo might have lulled itself, but…that force did not leave without an odd twinge to the sea, the feeling of something not quite fitting right. The eyes linger beneath the waves.

Right as he considers full-blown panicking, right as he decides to reach a hand down and just tell Donnie about his stupid choices about his big mistake about his wavering heart, Mikey rises once more.

Hurrying this time, Mikey screeches, “it’s a skatepark on top of a building! It sounds so dangerous because it is! Humans are craaaazzyyyyyy!…” he screams into the sky, flying and soaring and shining, carving through the city’s lights like he belongs there, like he isn’t a turtle teen.

Apparently, instead of visiting a regular park, Mikey has to show Casey what he considers to be a top-tier venue worthy of a human not from this time.

Casey’s just glad to be here.

He inhales a deep lungful of the scathingly cold air, savoring the way it clears his mind, tempers the smoldering green crawling up his spine.

Breathe, Jones.

He inhales.

Exhales.

i love my family and i am grateful for a second chance i love my family and i am grateful for a second chance i love my family and i am grateful for a second chance—

The green fully recedes, finally.

Every part of Casey’s body wants to remain stock-still, paralyzed beneath the weight of what have i done, petrified that the empyrean will return with a vengeance.

It does not.

New York City’s sky remains hazy and scorched by its lights; Donnie flies on; Mikey continues to cartwheel like an orange sunburst.

Donnie switches to the comms, a crackle sounding in Casey’s ear. An eye-brow raising smile colors his staticky voice.

“Should we race him?”

“Isn’t that kind of unfair, since we have a jetpack and he has a pair of nunchucks?”

“Do not be fooled by the babyface. Now, just like I taught you…”

“No mercy!” Casey cheers, lifting a brave fist to the sky.

(he will ignore his fear, he has decided.)

Donnie’s ninpo revs, growling—earth-shaking in the way it fans out beneath Casey, drawing a massive source of power from wherever the guy keeps it.

And he punches it.

Casey’s answering howl probably shifts the orbit of the moon.

—

The kid is hiding something.

And it does has to do with Blue.

Not in a cutesy caseyandleo way.

(Not that Donnie didn't believe Leo. But. It seems a little more Dire given Casey's current state.)

Donnie’s no mystic prodigy or emotional genius, but even he can see something is wrong, when Casey Junior clams up about Leo, when his ninpo goes taut and far away all at once.

Donnie will find out, because Donnie is the older twin, the one who looks out for Leo, because Leo took the time to actually open up and share this burden.

It’s not that he doesn’t think Leo is capable of figuring things out.

Leo is plenty capable.

Capable of getting into trouble.

Especially with the way he wears his heart on his sleeve. His twin is soft and squishy, a great big marshmallow beneath the smirks and the bravado and the flash.

(and dammit if donnie hasn’t already hurt leo enough.)

Casey is family, and Donnie loves him too.

But Leo is his twin and the rules are different.

Everyone knows that.

Don’t worry Blue. I’ve got your back, Donnie promises to himself, as he thinks of the uncontrollable, foreign sensation of the kid’s ninpo from earlier, like a fish-tailing car.

And whatever it is, the kid better hope to pizza-supreme-in-the-sky things don't go south.

Because I will be there, when they do.

—

“Shit!”

Falling head over heels again, Casey almost splits his chin open on the unforgiving cement of the rooftop. Twisting at the last second, he manages to protect his face, at the cost of his shoulder slamming brutally against the ground. Though mostly healed by Mikey's crazy mystic mojo, the snake bite is still tender, made even worse, as the impact of the fall runs up and down his arm. Stars loop and zigzag across the sky; his body making its grievances with his failures loud and clear, growing stiffer by the second.

Not to mention it’s super embarrassing to fail so hard at something that seems very easy.

Especially when you were raised by the leaders of Earth’s Resistance.

Scowling at the skateboard now rolling away, Casey wonders who is supposed to be able to do this.

Donnie winces, audibly; Mikey comes to a squealing halt on his skateboard, panicked worry in his eyes. He rushes over to help Casey up, eyes blue and sorry, sweet as ever.

“Dude! Are you okay? That was a bad one!”

Hissing, Casey pushes himself up from his knees, resting heavily on Mikey for a moment.

“I guess we really didn’t have much time for skateboarding in the future…” Mikey wonders with a thoughtful expression, rubbing his chin.

“No. Saving the earth keeps you a little busy” Casey snaps a little too aggressively, fire coming out of nowhere.

Except, it’s not out of nowhere.

The green hiding within his ninpo chafes at his memories his patience his temper, and he finds that people even mentioning the apocalypse kickstarts this ugly, angry demon out of him. Casey has to get it under control, but so far…

He hasn’t.

Mikey blinks, at a loss, grin frozen on his face in a way that says oh no what did i say i did not mean to hurt you. He looks…so small, there, with his hands clenched together.

Donnie is the shadow at the corners of the room, so dark you have no idea what the hell is in there.

He rises up behind Mikey, glare saying can it.

(is this protective older brother donnie or i know what you did donnie?)

Half of Casey wants to growl back at Donnie.

The other half yanks the leash, everything going quiet.

“Sorry Mikey,” he says honestly—because it truly is not Mikey that he is angry with. “I’m just…frustrated with this wheeled thing and can’t stop worrying about the Krang.”

Everyone frowns.

vibe killer vibe killer vibe killer—

“I know. But Leo really wrecked that place, and definitely set them back some. And besides, we’re kids. We need time to blow off some steam!”

Casey grimaces at the skateboard. His skull spins.

“And…what helps is that Donald actually brought up a back-up, which I was wrong, I’ll admit Dee, you win this one. But maybe you could try this…” he gestures to his older brother, smile wide and encouraging.

Shadows now dispelled, Donnie steps around Mikey smoothly, holding up a pair of…boots with wheels he pulled out of his shell, probably.

What the hell? Why would you put wheels on your shoes?

As confused and slightly disgusted as he is, Casey is intrigued.

Laughing, Donnie waves them around, chuckling harder at the way Casey cannot tear his gaze away from them, trying to figure out the idiotic contraption.

“They’re rollerblades—kind of like ice-skates? They're also called inline skates.”

Casey remains clueless, staring blankly.

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Mikey gasps, horrified, spots flaring a bright orange.

“Tell me you know what ice-skates are. Your weapon is a hockey stick. Casey’s—present Casey’s sport is hockey. You wear a hockey mask. How did we make it through a whole winter and not take you ice skating??”

“Because we’re turtles and we live in an abandoned subway?” reasons Donnie, flipping his hands.

“That’s hardly a reason, Dee. Well—we’re not giving you those right now, but they’re basically the same thing, just with a blade thingy on the bottom to let you glide across the ice. These,” he grabs the “rollerblades” from his brother’s arms, “Will let you do that, but on regular surfaces, no ice needed, baby!”

“For fun…”

“For fun!” Mikey and Donnie chorus.

“I’m trusting you guys,” he warns, widening his eyes and jutting out his chin. He heads over to an arched skylight, settling against the lip of the window and begins to take off his own shoes.

Casey laces up the skates, apprehension growing. He’s no wimp, but crashing several times a day on a moving platform messes with your mind, messes with the spirit of Getting Back Up. 

Not to mention putting wheels on shoes is not normal, no matter what anyone says.

Get it together Jones.

He is going to enjoy this moment with his brothers, just like Leo said. He is going to be a sixteen-year-old, even if it’s for a couple hours.

Casey yanks on his composure, forcing his jumpy nerves to calm.

The skates come together nicely—sturdy and strong. And they’re a perfect fit, no squeezing, no gaps. (That doesn’t surprise him. Donnie notices everything.)

He thinks he sees a flash of sea-green around the eyelets.

He probably hit his head.

“Okay, they fit great, Tello. I’m gonna try them now.”

Casey begins the daunting task of rising to his feet, knowing he can’t trust the moving nonsense beneath, no matter how tight he did the laces.

“You want help?”

“No,” he shoots daggers at his brothers. He can do this, and he’s not going to chip a tooth or fall down again. His name is Casey Jones and he will conquer the rollerblades.

Everyone sucks in a collective breath as he lifts off of the edge, into a standing position.

Not a wobble.

Not a falter.

Casey stands, glancing down in confusion. There weren’t words for his performance with the skateboard and….now this? With both his feet strapped into tiny concussion machines? He’s fine?

(he is more than fine.)

His ninpo rumbles.

(it seems as though you have found your way.)

Maybe.

He’s still a little wary of the running commentary, bathed in green.

Standing there, it’s as if the world has been righted, as if its proper axis was found. Casey is steady and confident—this is a moment he will remember forever; this is the moment he learned something new about himself for a change.

“You’re gonna want to try and move, Junior,” Donnie informs, goggles down as he observes the scene. Mikey has his hands clasped beneath his chin, actual stars in his eyes.

“You look great! I’ll have to add some stickers, of course, and I agree with Dee—you gotta skate around! Test those puppies!”

Casey doesn’t need to ask.

He pushes forward, legs gliding out, slicing through the air effortlessly. 

It’s just so…natural.

Without a thought, he’s going and turning, one foot weaving in front of another, his weight instinctively shifting to balance as his body leans to and fro. Around and around and around his brothers he goes, high-fives and fist bumps galore. Casey’s incredulous and elated and has no room for arrogance because this is all some crazy dream—he could never have though to something like this in the apocalypse.

He flows and skates and flies—the rooftop his personal sky, and cannot imagine the clunkiness, the slowness of mere walking. It is almost as if he’s left time, drifting outside of what’s all around him, to skim across the unknown.

Why doesn’t everyone move around like this??

Casey barks out a laugh, bright and loud and entirely uncontrolled.

It’s so fun.

(i think you are ready.)

Hello, what was that?

(green plunges down into the sea, propelling green from his heart straight to his feet.)

Casey, well aware of the feeling of ninpo, freaks out.

What he’s experiencing is a little more than mind-melds with Leo—more than detecting the Hamato’s presences.

The rollerblades warm.

It takes all of Casey’s concentration to not stumble when he sees it.

The wheels glow brighter, spinning faster than it seems possible.

He suddenly hears his brothers shouting warnings, growing strained.

“Mind the gap!” Donnie calls through cupped hands.

Casey looks up, tugging his attention away from the sparking wheels beneath him, the thundering, waking force within.

A little too late, though.

He careens forward, stupidly fast, and just. 

Sails.

Right off. The building.

—

“CASEY!”

…

Mikey and Donnie exchange terrified glances. One second, Mikey’s got Casey in his eyesight, the next, he sees his dark head disappears over the ledge.

"Leo is going to kill—”

A roaring, exhilarated yell cuts him off.

“WOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Flabbergasted, Mikey sprints over to the side, heart in his throat, stomach somewhere hundreds of feet below. How could he have been so stupid? Why would they skate on top of a building??

Well, we are in New York City… one part of him argues, raising a brow earnestly.

He. Is. A. Human! Dr. Feeling yells back, tearing out nonexistent hair. A human on wheels!

As he reaches the edge, something—ferocious as a wildfire, howling like a tempest, spirit as vast as a great sea—shoots upward, throwing Mikey back onto his shell. A surprised shriek rushes out of him—what the hell was that??

“Holy shit,” Donnie yells happily, zooming in on the sky with his goggles, gaping. He flips Mikey back over, entirely preoccupied, a few digital displays provided by his ninpo running tests on the phenomenon.

“Is that…Casey?” asks Mikey, squinting, shaking out his hands, powering up his mystic mojo in case this goes…sideways.

Finding the streaking blur of aquamarine, Mikey finally pinpoints Casey.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, echoing Donnie.

Casey is skating on air.

No euphemism, no figure of speech.

His legs push and glide, glowing rollerblades hitting some kind of solid pathway that forms as his feet touch it.

“It seems as though gravity doesn’t affect the speed or difficulty,” Donnie notes, as Casey impossibly climbs, blades hitting the generated ground, going faster and faster.

He slices through the air like a rocket, hair streaming behind him.

Casey has never looked so…without abandon.

(And Mikey has seen the way he gets about pick-up basketball.)

Even though Casey has no markings like Donnie, Leo, or himself, Mikey notes how his skates glow with that brilliant sea-green, like tiny shooting stars above the city.

“Higher further faster, baby!” he screams, voice catching on the wind like a parachute.

“Hell yeah!” Mikey yells back, caught in the high of the moment, thrills running down his shell. Casey loves that movie, love the inspiring moment when Carol Danvers breaks free from the Supreme Intelligence, kicking some serious ass.

On the bright side: Casey’s alive.

On the other hand: Leo is going to be so pissy he wasn’t here to see it.

In their defense, they didn’t think this would happen.

However awesome and sudden Casey’s ninpo is, it is very short-lived. As he thunders down on another sea-green pathway, it begins to fracture, distort, and ultimately disappears from beneath his skates. Casey would have met an ugly landing had Mikey not thrown out his hands and caught him on an orange breeze, heart pounding, sweat rolling down his back.

“Did you guys see that?!” Casey exclaims, unfazed by the rescue, and simply tossing his mask and hockey stick aside, stripping himself of the sweatshirt to cool off in short-sleeves. 

As he looks up, Mikey starts at the aquamarine radiating in his eyes.

None of the turtles get like that.

It’s a human thing.

Probably.

“Affirmative, Casey Junior, that was legendary,” Donnie nods in a dignified tone, exchanging a single fist bump with him. “Aside from the part where we thought you died on our watch.”

“This totally matches with how you nailed that Krang at the Crying Titan! I…don’t know that much about hockey, but…you’ve got it, Jones. You’ve got it in your blood! The hockey stick, the skates! Who knew ninpo could be so cool!”

“I can confirm, the Hamato ancestors are probably rolling over in their graves trying to figure out what that sport is,” jokes Donnie, goggles back up atop his forehead, slinging an arm around Mikey’s shoulders.

“Leo is going to flip when he hears about this,” Mikey gushes, imaging the hilariously dramatic tantrum his brother is going to throw.

Casey laughs, though the smile doesn’t quite touch the corners of his eyes.

Weird.

Mikey doesn’t feel like spoiling the moment with whatever’s going on there, so he quickly flips the subject, pointing to the air.

“What should we call those?” he waves a hand back and forth to symbolize those platforms Casey would skate on.

Casey hums, deep in thought, eyes going back and forth.

“Good question. Maybe…just the ice? Like hockey? I’ve already got the stick and these skates are basically the same thing.”

“Okay…yeah. Yeah! Ice. That’s easy and more importantly, dope. Damn, Jones! You’ve got your mystic powers! You think you can make them on your own, or do you need to be skating? And does it only happen when you put your skates on?” rattles off Mikey, question after question as his mind bounces back and forth, ready to unlock all the new possibilities.

It’s not that his brothers’ mystic powers are boring—no, they’re all great, but.

This is new! It’s Casey!

Casey raises his hands in defense, “Woah, woah, woah, dude. I barely even understand what just happened.”

Mikey blushes, backtracking.

“Right.”

“But, I’m ready to start finding out now, if you’re up for it…” Casey wiggles his eyebrows, a few lights winking back on in his eyes.

“Yes,” Mikey pumps a fist in the air, wrapping orange around him like a cloak.

Like the daredevil he is, Casey tips backward off the roof, falling back onto the ice almost effortlessly, spiraling upward for Mikey to try and jump onto.

“Wait for me!” Donnie cries, flight shell powering up, hurtling upwards.

Here goes nothing, Mikey thinks, sending one end of his chain shooting towards Casey, guided on a golden wind. It finds him easily, wrapping around his middle, orange and aquamarine singing together.

“Oh shi—” he shrieks as Casey yanks him off his feet, flying uncontrollably until he lands atop the glowing ice, his feet skidding this way and that.

The city streets are mere lines below him, but Mikey knows the cement will hurt.

(aquamarine steadies orange, firm and planted.)

i won’t let you fall. don’t worry.

(orange relaxes.)

show me what ya got, big man!

Heart full, ninpo bright and sparkling, Mikey laughs and laughs and laughs, as the guy drags him through the starry night.

—

Hands on his knees, catching his breath after trying and trying and trying again, a thought—horrible and sinking slams into his head.

The empyrean spoke right before his powers manifested.

Casey feels like one big, fat walking—or skating—lie, tucked away amongst this family of turtles.

Peering into the sea of his ninpo, he asks a single question.

Was it real?

Green bubbles instantly.

(what was that, child?)

Were my mystic powers…real? Or was that some artificial thing you created?

(i see.)

(no. they were there, but i gave you the push, the push to stop holding yourself back.)

Green, solid and steady, no longer burns so brightly.

In fact, it settles nicely against his ninpo.

He should not get comfortable.

(i agree.)

For what it’s worth, thank you.

(it was in my own best interest. it was…crowded in here with your stifled powers.)

Casey grins to himself, feeling a warmth in the tone he hadn’t heard before.

Skating along the sky, flying across an inconceivable bridge fanning out below his feet, Casey felt invincible. Was it what he needed after the Krang and his talk with Leo? He has to admit, he does feel lighter.

Maybe things will be alright.

Maybe he can find Sensei again, wield some sick as hell mystic powers, and keep his family.

Maybe, he thinks, linking an arm with Mikey and Donnie, whooping into the night.

…

(aquamarine strains. the connection to the other colors weakens.)

Chapter Text

Walking back to his subway car in the dead of night, Leo runs through everything he spoke about with Casey—over and over and over again, trying to pinpoint the exact moment everything went wrong.

When the kid’s eyes grew a depth, murky and cool, that said—i have secrets and they are mine.

Leo’s no idiot.

If anyone knows what it looks like to hide something, it would be him.

And this soon after finally telling his family about the tattoo?

As if responding to his shift in thoughts—though he is well aware of his complete lack of control over the thing—the dragon slides down his arm to stare at him questioningly.

Wish I knew, buddy.

If he didn’t know something was wrong after the lights winked out completely in Casey’s eyes, after a feeling—so cold it burned, the very marrow of Leo’s bones aching, he knew when his tattoo fled from the kid, similarly scalded by the terrible sensation.

Just because he knowswhat it looks like, doesn’t mean Leo knows what to do.

A red-hot flash of embarrassment courses through him—he is the one hiding things usually.

Leo worries his lip, lumbering down the steps, wishing only for the sweet quiet of his bed.

Do you confront someone?

(no because if someone approached me i’d get defensive and angry and hurtful.)

Let them come around?

(no because if the krang hadn’t returned i don’t know when i would have said something about my tattoo.)

Both scenarios possess equally difficult rebuttals.

Clang!

Leo starts, cringing at the empty soda can he’s just knocked down the rest of the stairs, its metal barking loud and clear throughout the lair.

(purple pokes blue, lazily.)

must you be so loud?

(blue slumps.)

sorry. lost in thought.

(edges sharpening from a fuzzy sleepiness, purple stands taller.)

about what?

If Leo wasn’t so torn up about the situation, it would actually be funny how quickly his twin sniffed out the issue.

But he already decided a few seconds ago that he would respect Casey’s privacy, for now, at least—given the bigger pink-alien-sized problems at hand. He is going to give the kid some time and Leo is pretty confident that Casey would come and talk to him.

(And once Donnie figures out the whole Let’s Give Each Other Space plan…it won’t take much for his twin to turn Casey into his interrogation victim.)

(blue dances away.)

about your big-ass forehead.

(purple snarls down the bridge.)

(blue waves a white flag.)

just worried about the kid and the krang.

And it’s not like that is wrong. Leo is worried about those two things, even if it is a vast generalization.

(one long, exasperated sigh rumbles out of purple.)

please go to bed, nardo.

(somehow, some way, they both know that blue’s sitting on something big. painful. ugly. purple trusts blue to tell him soon.)

(blue will not let him down.)

Scowling (albeit fondly) into the dark, in the vague direction of the lab, Leo continues to make his way to bed, feet dragging against the cool concrete.

Like one of those wounds you’re afraid to look at, afraid to leave alone—he thinks about the raw heartbreak on Casey’s face; and worse, the bleak acceptance hanging around the kid like a dark cloud, gloomy and inescapable.

Every which way he looked at the near future, Leo could not, for the life of him, figure out a way in which this outcome was not inevitable, where Casey’s body wouldn’t slump in that waking nightmares way, where things wouldn’t be strained between the two of them, where the kid would have some strength to fight the Krang, because that’s where this all leads to isn’t it?

Leo looks up to the ceiling, imagining the stars—how they laugh and twinkle and leer at the irony of fate.

He stuffs his hands further into Donnie’s hoodie, hurrying the last few steps to his room, crossing over into the familiar blue lanterns and scattered posters welcoming him home. Sinking into the messy pile of blankets and pillows, he exhales long and slow, pretending to release everything from today.

If only it were that easy.

Some nerdy-ass book Casey was reading the other day lays discarded further away, its bright cover an unhelpful reminder.

Big fat tears rolling down the kid’s face.

His arms, wrapped around Leo, trembling.

All he can see are Casey’s tears.

Did he do the right thing?

(who can know? raph once said, on a late night just like this one. sometimes we just have to make choices. sometimes they’re good ones and we keep going. sometimes they’re bad ones and we get back up and try again.)

Leo inhales.

He exhales.

It’s gotten all so hard and complicated and strange—the days of traveling to a weird mystic library seeming so far away, so untouchable.

Leo lays on his side, curling in as if to staunch the sorrow of—what? growing up and changing times and bigger responsibilities—flowing out of him.

Part of him wants to think, just last week, the kid and i were goofing around waiting for our order at run of the mill.

Just yesterday everything was fine.

But that part of him isn’t exactly correct, because things have never been quite right for the kid—because every day, yesterday, today, and tomorrow will be a reminder of all that he has lost, a scathing, slapping, scorching reminder in his face, the shape of leoanddonnieandraphandmikey.

(leo had been waiting for this day. when the kid couldn’t take it anymore. he knew. he always knew in the back of his mind.)

Knowing that may be an awful wrench down his spine, a well of regret and deep-seated ouch, but it isn’t impossible to look at.

One tiny detail, an almost imperceptible shift in Casey’s face continues to be the outlier in the situation.

When Leo initially proposed the Stay Away Plan and his possible role in Casey’s pain, something flashed in the kid’s eyes—pure, responsive emotion. It wasn’t that initial sadness you might expect from such an idea, but…flat-out disagreement.

As if every fiber of Casey’s being said no. You’re wrong.

And even though it despaired between one blink and the next, melting into the anticipated distress…

Leo can’t ignore that. It might not be enough evidence, but it makes no sense for Casey to have had that visceral of a reaction to something that seems so obvious. There must be something more going on, something bigger.

(leo cannot help but feel as though something has irrevocably changed.)

All these threads flying around all over the place, blue and purple and aquamarine and green and orange and red, slipping out of his fingers, tangling up. There’s no way he’s going to sleep tonight, not with his racing heartbeat, not with his mind unable to stop envisioning every bad scenario coming to life, not with his ninpo, sky blue and questioning, awake and thrumming.

He is the weary, lone traveler lost in a forest. It is dark and confusing and only a little bit scary, but Leo is strong enough to find his way out himself—determined to fight his way out no matter how long it takes.

Leo lays there for a few minor minutes, fingers tap tap tapping the blankets, an incessant rhythm.

His mind wanders down one path, covered in vines and dusty boulders.

He turns over in bed.

His mind skips down another trail, bumpy and uneven, leading to nowhere but treachery.

Dragging frustrated hands over his face, Leo sits up in a huff.

He’s not going to figure this out lying in bed, unable to sleep.

He can’t sleep and there are far better things to do than mope around in bed.

Before he was the Leader, he was the planner, the strategist, the…manipulator, which sounds worse admitting it to himself than he thought, but he might as well call it what it is.

The Mad Dogs have got another alien’s ass to kick, and this time…

Leo grins in the night.

This time, they’re ready.

(he hopes that somewhere, hiding in a gross little hovel licking her wounds, a spineless freak hiding in a snakeskin is afraid. fears him for a change, fears what is to be delivered by the swift and terrible blow that will be his family.)

If there is one thing Hamato Leonardo can do, it is making a plan.

That clears his mind.

Pulling down his curtains, shutting his door, Leo rolls out his whiteboard, grabs a fistful of markers, and begins.

~

Leo falls into a steady groove, ambient music thumping in the background, his foot tapping along to the beat.

Letting his mind stretch out to cover contingencies and backups and alternatives, he runs through any possible scenario, jotting some pieces down, highlighting others. It helps, the brainstorming and the music, to bring him away from the sheer panic of not knowing what to do about Casey, to help him, what to do in the coming time.

He’ll bring his brothers in later to bring in their own perspectives, shift the list of items, but for now, Leo jots ideas down in his own secret code because they are sneaky little shits and he’s learned the hard way with that one.

He makes plans on plans, body swaying at the music’s rhythm; a sticky note here for…this, a dotted line, and a pin there…and—

Someone clears their throat.

Startled, Leo hurls the blue marker at the intruder.

Donnie ducks gracefully, matching gold eyes glaring in the low light.

“It’s not like you’re asleep either,” Leo snatches the words right from his twin’s mouth, turning his beak up into the air.

Clad in a purple hoodie, goggles wonkily placed atop his head, his twin waltzes into the subway car, scanning the area as if on a perimeter check, as if he’s the Secret Service.

Leo heroically resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“What could you even be doing at this hou—oh,” his eyebrows go sky-high at the arts and crafts planning explosion. “Wow,” Donnie adds, a touch breathless. “One of those kinds of nights?”

Refusing to back down, Leo nods, mouth stretching into a firm line.

He won’t be bullied into going to bed, not at this hour, not at a time like this.

Donnie is unfazed.

Shrugging, his twin presses a button on his arm only for his tech to suddenly appear in the room, unfolding from walls, rising from the floor, bathing the two of them in a violet glow.

“What?—”

“Nardo, my twin. You’ve got your little nighty-night corner in my lab, I’ve got my own personal workstation installed in your room. It’s basically the same thing.”

Not the same thing.

Leo gestures to the tech helplessly, mouth opening and closing. He’s not that surprised Donnie would do something like this, but damn—a turtle wants his privacy, sometimes.

“It’s funny, really, to make you speechless,” his twin laughs, brandishing a blowtorch—out of nowhere, might Leo add. “But, you’re clearly working and I have stuff to do, so why not make the most of the productive aura?”

The i don’t think you want to be alone and i don’t want to leave you alone rings loud and clear.

The twins stare at each other, gold flashing.

He’s doing his best, Leo realizes.

Donnie wants to know what’s bothering Leo without pressing too much, and he is doing his best. It is a little jarring for him to barge into the middle of a hardcore scheme sesh, but he’s right. Leo doesn’t want to be alone when he’s trying to keep track of his ninpo and the kid and the Krang and the Hidden City and what seems like the fate of the entire planet all over again.

Part of him wants to push Donnie away—take the burden wholly upon himself to protect his family, to shield them from the darker part of this mission but…

That can’t be right.

Leo’s stomach turns.

He sees Raph—earnest and patient and steady—waiting for him, no matter what.

He sees Donnie—fierce and dependable and bright—at his side, no matter what.

He sees Mikey—sweet and kind and insightful—cheering him on, no matter what.

Maybe growth, maybe healing, means Leo doesn’t push his family away to figure things out himself, because it usually ends up only hurting them. Maybe it means letting them in.

(it doesn’t feel easy or nice, but that isn’t the point.)

Leo loves the kid, but not telling Donnie goes against everything he promised his family.

Staring at his feet—because like, okay, just because he decided to tell the truth doesn’t mean he’s automatically the best at it—Leo forces the words out before his dinner crawls back up his throat.

“There’s something going on with Casey,” he says quietly, willing his heart to calm. It shouldn’t feel like he’s betraying the kid.

But it does.

Leo goes on, anyway—nerves thrilling up and down his shell.

“I don’t know the full extent of it, but…it’s something. I need you to keep an eye on him.”

Donnie’s brow furrows, a soft frown growing. The edges of his twin harden, sharpening the sleep haze into the weapon that lingers at Leo’s back, has lingered at Leo’s back ever since they were young. Leo was the upset one, the scared one, the shy one—Donnie was the blade protecting Leo from the bugs and the shadows and the nightmares, there to do what his brother could not.

All of his brothers would stand up for him, but Dee?

He’s scrappy.

He’ll take a chunk out of you, he’ll honest-to-goodness beat the shit out of you, and make sure you learn your lesson the first time.

Case in point: at Leo’s periphery, a bright purple begins to glow—not the tech, but Donnie’s ninpo, gathering like a storm, rising like the tide. His inventions rattle and shake with the influx of mystic energy, gaining lives of their own with his flaring emotions.

And as much as Leo loves the Ride or Die energy, things are a little more complicated than that, and iconically unhinged violence isn’t the move for interfamilial dynamics. Casey is…Casey. Their brother and the kid from the future, doomed to live a permanent shadow of his former life. That kind of trauma, losing everything—it’s not something that Leo’s family can even begin to understand, begin to address.

(and leo may have been a fool to not have ever truly come to grips with that.)

Point is: Donnie can’t just…whale on the kid until his secrets crack out of him like an egg.

The situation is sensitive, delicate; Leo conveys that with a glare reminding him—i love you and i see you but that is not what this situation needs, dee.

Cutting through the red alerts and narrowed gaze, his look calms Donnie back down, the tech resuming their quiet slumber. Purple sweeps through the subway car one last time, melting into his body. Leo doesn’t miss the—maybe not now, but i’ll be ready—lingering in his twin’s stare.

“And he didn’t tell you?”

If Leo hadn’t already felt shut out, he did now. His face grows hot under the unreadable scrutiny of his twin.

He shakes his head, shrugging.

Leo waits, tensed, for the i told you so, the what did you think was going to happen, the this is what you get to burst forth from his twin’s flat voice, but…

They never come.

(purple curls up beside blue.)

A light appears in the forest, accompanied by a hand—a guide in the dark.

Flipping over the blowtorch in small, precise circles, Donnie fishes for a response, somewhere in that head of his. It’s almost stupid, Leo realizes, how much better honest communication works amongst his siblings—how instead of the explosion or the barbs or the insults he’d expected from his twin (which Leo admits, was stupid of him), here Donnie is honoring how difficult it was for Leo to do so with genuine kindness and comfort.

(again and again and again purple does as red taught him, again and again and again no matter how unsure he feels, no matter how scared he feels, he reaches a hand out to blue—no strings no shame no fear, and blue slowly learns to take it. again and again and again purple reaches a hand out to teach blue nothing nothing nothing is too bad that i cannot bear. and though blue still hesitates, his nerves settle quicker.)

(purple will do it again and again and again because red said that is how they beat the silence and the pain and the fear.)

“Then I’ll keep an eye on him,” Donnie decides matter-of-factly, sitting up with a stretch.

Grateful beyond measure, Leo smiles at him—not a flashy, irritating grin, but pure and true, relief curling at its edges.

my twin my person my brother—

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves Leo off, growing distracted by his open project atop the table once more. Cracking his knuckles nonchalantly, he asks, “I shall hazard a guess, and wonder, do you wish for me to take him out?”

Leo gapes at him.

“Donnie—”

“Out in the city, dumbass—probably to teach him skateboarding. He’s my brother too, I’m not going to kill him,” Donnie snaps. “And before you wonder, you’ve got I Have A Crazy Plan written all over your face.”

It’s all a little whiplash, going from sharing tough knowledge to Donnie’s immediate acceptance back to his planning, but Leo pulls it together and remembers what he was doing.

“Yes. I’m going back down to the Hidden City tomorrow—there’s something I’ve got to do before the Sister is able strike again, but it shouldn’t be too dangerous. And before you wonder, I’m bringing Raph so don’t get your battle shell all up in a twist,” Leo informs, turning to his crazed wall of plans. Crossing his arms, he traces the lines he’s drawn between locations and yokai, between his own family members and their own abilities.

Donnie scoffs from behind him.

“As the older twin, I will always have my battle shell in what you call a twist,” he forms air-quotes. “But…I trust you, and I trust Raph even more to get your ass out of whatever idiotic situation you get into. Just…keep me updated, okay?”

A shit-eating grin spreads across Leo’s face before he even knows what he’s doing.

“Shouldn’t the tracking chip you put in me do that?”

“Good Galileo—go back to your cracked out doomsday planning, Nardo. Let me work in peace,” Donnie flaps his hands at Leo, shooing him away.

Craning his neck back over what looks like a…circuit? of some kind, Donnie resumes his work, readjusting tools and materials precisely to aid the speed of his efficiency.

From a distance, Donnie and Leo have little in common.

Leo with his silver tongue and his proud bravado and his corny jokes; Donnie with his laser-like focus and his exhaustive work ethic and his quirky peculiarities.

In truth, they are equals, two sides of the same coin that flips and flips and flips and never lands on one side for too long. Where Leo goes, Donnie follows; where Donnie points, Leo ends up. They understand one another, speak and think and listen to a frequency only they know, waves only leoanddonnie can sail.

There, spending time in one another’s presence, not quiet speaking but not quite silent, Leo and Donnie find rest. The rustling of papers, the low hiss of a soldering iron, the gentle hum of Leo’s music forms its own symphony, a song that leads him out of the dark forest and back to familiar land, where his family gives evil the Finger and Leo a hug.

(purple offers his spirit to blue.)

(blue draws strength from purple.)

Part One begins tomorrow.

Leo faces the whiteboard with a grim smile.

He’s got work to do.

—

It’s a tough mark of his developing leadership, that Leo would ask Donnie to keep tabs on Casey, that this could potentially shift his relationship with the kid, because Leo is having to decide what to sacrifice, what personal convictions he has to put aside for the wellness of the whole team, the whole family.

Leo is still that shining figure, a hero of old.

His family’s champion.

But Donnie can’t help but bear the pangs of hurt in his chest, as he watches a multitude of grief and loss flicker across Leo’s face, as he grapples with the slowly approaching reality that maybe…caseyandleo understand one another in many ways, but not every.

And that lack of understanding…

It is a growing shadow, lingering behind his eyes, trailing the glint of his swords.

Donnie will be there, for when the shadow becomes a storm, and when the storm that is no longer inescapable breaks.

He will be there, unlike the times he wasn’t, for Leo.

Stealing a glance over his shoulder, Donnie watches fondly as Leo juts out a hip, tossing a marker up and down as he stares at a photo of a Hidden City village, humming to himself.

I will be there.

—

Bright and early the next morning, Leo sashays across the platform toward Raph’s room, a strange mixture of trepidation and excitement swirling around his stomach. There’s a bit of that deathly calm that spikes whenever it’s time to Handle Things, but not so much that he forgets himself—as if the broken spell has once again tempered the onslaught of…everything, for lack of better words.

Speaking of, as Leo finishes the wrapping on his left arms, he laughs to himself as a dragon’s snout curiously peeking out from under it, chuffing ever so delicately at the way Leo ties it off.

In the…less than one day period that it’s been free, the dragon appears to have gained a healthy dose of confidence, or at least, enough confidence to leave Leo’s shell. He can’t feel its movement, or even dictate where it goes, but he doesn’t really mind.

The dragon is him. Scary and sure…there were illegal magics involved in its inception (no doubt), but its sparkling scales and inquisitive eyes—gold as his own—remind Leo that not everything that left the prison dimension was bad.

That he went through hell and the changes wrought to his body were not all bad.

I will get back up.

Stepping lightly into the subway car, Leo chuckles at Raph’s massive form curled around his teddy bear, snoring quietly.

Leo eventually crashed last night, and was able to fall asleep for a few hours, into a blissful nothingness. Something out there knew Leo did not need some kind of crazy-ass mystic dream vaguely telling him about a prophecy that somehow perfectly fits in to his life right now.

No thanks.

Crawling atop Raph’s shell, Leo taps him gently, knowingly dodging the sleep-addled punches and slaps that his older brother throws haphazardly into the air.

“Rapppphhhhh,” Leo croons, poking each side of his brother’s face, laughing harder at how the teensiest growl rumbles out of his mouth, warped by his retainer.

“…Leo…that better not be you trying to wake me up this early,” he pops his good eye open, green flickering back and forth. Despite his grumbling, the affectionate exasperation reserved for only for little brothers rings loud and clear, letting Leo know he can keep going.

“It’s a Red-and-Blue-mission kind of day, mi hermano, so let’s get moving,” Leo gestures with a growing urgency, finger guns pointed towards the door.

“Hold up, Leon. Whaaaaat kind of mission?” Raph tries to ask around a yawn. He begins to move around, slowly shifting, though to Leo it feels more like the earth shaking.

Stretching, he reaches for his mask hanging near the doorway. Leo snatches the bandana out of Raph’s hands impatiently, tying it around his head.

He smiles wide and sparkling, leaning down to meet Raph’s expression upside-down.

“Just an easy-peasy one, down to the Hidden City—we’ve gotta tell June about the collars and the Krang’s plan to kidnap more powerful yokai. Think of this as a…prelude to an evacuation.”

The heaviness of their current reality settles in fully.

Raph blinks awake, alert and sharp.

“Raph wonders why you didn’t start out with that,” he notes wryly, shooting Leo one of Those Looks.

“Next time I will, then. None of that gentle leader nonsense—I’ll have Dee install one of those ear-bleeding alarm systems—”

Leo is shoved out of the car by a giant red hand, tripping and stumbling onto the train platform. Even with the nerves, the confusion, and the anticipation of this next stage of fighting the Krang—(not to mention Casey)—something as mundane as bothering his older brother grounds him, reminds Leo what he’s ultimately fighting for.

“Give me five minutes, brat. Then we roll,” Raph calls from the bright red lights shining from his car, doors bent and misshapen from his large form.

“Meet me in the sparring room,” Leo yells back, hurrying off to grab a few extra throwing stars, just in case. Everyone feels better with a couple of those, and if you disagree, you are lying.

This is kind of weird, Leo decides, flicking on the lights in their training room. Having Raph involved in one of my plans…

But Leo has promised to be a different leader than he originally thought he needed to be. Secretive and prideful stubbornly insisting on bearing all the weight are the things he is trying to move on from. It’s easier said than done, and Leo definitely isn’t doing this perfectly, but trying is better than nothing.

Rummaging around a spare bin for weapons, he remembers the sai Casey formed, the sai that Barry threw a record-breaking bitch fit over. What was that thing he said again? Cleave your what from your what?

Doesn’t look like any cleaving is happening over there.

Laying atop a shelf, innocuously, most likely in between testing periods by Donnie, the weapon sits.

A gleam—impossible given the lack of light in this corner, runs down the largest prong…almost…

Blue?

Gasping, he takes a step back.

An uncomfortable thrill wings its way up his shell.

Leo would have expected aquamarine…or something, but blue?

Not the sunburned skies of his ninpo—but close enough that it required a double-take.

He should walk away, and distantly, Leo can hear himself saying bad idea you know what barry said even though he’s weird and very abrasive to say the least he knows about this don’t touch—

Leo picks it up. Cradles it between two hands, two hands that prickle at the cold, whispering metal.

“You don’t seem that bad to me…” he mutters, holding the weapon up closer to his face.

(yeah, well. that’s what they all say.)

The world goes dark.

(he is leo and he is not.

he is young and he is old but no matter what age he is still tired, still bone-weary and if it were not for his brothers, his best friends would be loss and death and grief.

but leo, as all leo’s will always do in any universe, pushes on, his diamond-bright smile promising a strength he might not feel, but…who? the resistance? his family? needs to see.

he is watching young recruits train.

…they are young because they keep having to lower the fighting age.

…

who are they?

who is he?

yes. he is leonardo, the leader of earth’s resistance.

he is checking their progress and donnie is there beside him. his twin—foreign and familiar, purple as ever, right at his side, one knee pulled close to his plastron.

they are perched atop a balcony, battered infrastructure sagging. there is chipped paint and letters that leo doesn’t let himself read.

he does not think of new york and what it was.

only for casey—the younger casey, the happier casey—does he reopen than wound, to tell him stories of lights and people and music.

it is only for casey—the headstrong and curious and questioning and bubbly casey—that leo does. 

things he never thought he would do again.

songs and stories.

…why not?

casey understands.

which casey?

leo blinks, inhaling the stale, underground air.

he moves to point at casey, whirling like a storm, talented and skilled.

his mother in so many ways.

he moves to point but nothing moves—there is nothing at his right side what happened—

of course.

there is no arm there. his prosthetic is charging. leo only forgot.

“look at him,” leo says, pride filling his voice.

donnie nods, just as engrossed.

casey, eyes like a hawk because he is a child of the apocalypse, catches them easily.

he grins, like the tiny terror he is, unleashing himself on an unsuspecting instructor.

leo and donnie wince.

it is funny in here, in the training room—where the stakes are low and the smiles are quick but it is quite another thing to imagine…

these young adults, these children fighting against the horde of krang-beasts.

donnie, his twin in this universe and every universe, senses his mood and shifts accordingly.

“it worries me what junior might do if something happens to you.”

leo, older and wiser and exposed to the end of the world, knows exactly what donnie means.

…

leo, younger and clever and having avoided one end of the world, understands just as well.

casey is bright and blazing and would never take death’s choice as the final answer, as so many others would. he might not be related to leo, but he took that part of leo—the part that will go to hell and back for his family and made it his own, painted it along his bones, wrote it across his heart.

casey would burn the world to the ground for leo, and leo doesn’t know what to do about that, other than take that knowledge and hold it in his hand, like a bird he’s afraid will escape. it’s one thing when you are the one like that, but when it is someone else?

leo…

leo could never be afraid of casey.

but for casey?

for how he might destroy himself?

casey would do anything casey would do anything casey would do anything—

“that’s why i have to live forever,” not leo and leo shrug, unsure of what else to say.

donnie nods, faintly. he too is at a loss.

down below, casey starts laughing with another kid.

…in the lair—

no in the base—

he is laughing and—)

Leo flies violently out of the memory, his mind hacking and coughing as it fights to remember where and when it should be.

(what would he do and what would you do and how can he take this when will he break—)

Phantom laughter and deep-seated unease and the oddest twinge in his right arm bear down on Leo like lead as he quickly lets go of the weapon.

The whispers disappear, drowned out by the clattering of the metal on the floor.

Legs buckling, hand gripping a wooden shelf so hard it groans, he breathes and breathes and breathes—until the pounding of his heart becomes a dull noise, until the room slows from a chaotic spin to a dizzying lull.

That memory…

It didn’t seem like some random flash from the past.

Intentional even, because Leo had been worrying about the kid and his recent behavior, albeit at the back of his mind as he picked up the weapon. The older Donnie from Sensei’s mind may have made a good point, too.

Casey, ever the little fighter, rarely took no for an answer.

He certainly didn’t when Leo did his best to hide his ugly, scarred self from the others after the invasion.

No.

He grabbed Leo with two strong hands and yanked him back into the light, repeating over and over and over again—i am not afraid of you.

That fire…that determination…

Unchecked, it could seriously hurt someone.

But what is he supposed to do with this information, this memory? Not even Sensei knew what to do back then—so what the hell is Leo supposed to do now?

“Okay, boss man—Leo! Leo, what happened? Are you hurt?” Raph’s certified Panic Mode sets in as his older brother presumably sees the mess happening.

Squeezing his eyes shut one more time, searching for a strength to pull him out of this rattled state, Leo straightens. He holds a hand out to stop Raph’s mother-henning, brushing imaginary dirt from his shoulders, loosening kinks from his neck.

“Yeah, so, I’m willing to consider the possibility that Barry was right, and that little sai over there is…haunted,” Leo laces his hands together.

Raph covers his face with his hands.

“He told us how dangerous that was—”

“It’s Draxum,” Leo juts his chin out stubbornly, scowling back at his brother. “What was I supposed to do?”

Personally, Leo thinks that Raph does the best I Am So Worried I Am Going To Kill You face, but Donnie insists that Mikey’s, albeit rare, truly takes the cake. His bad eye goes all pinched and frustrated, mouth curled downwards in disappointed frown. 

Leo goes on to quickly explain that yes he did ignore the warnings but how was he supposed to know that the sai would read his mind and that yes he learned his lesson and he will not be touching the thing again as well as raph, you need to know that i spoke with casey after he woke up and i think that something is very very wrong and the memory i saw from the sai is confirming it with its own freaky magic way.

Raph did not like any of it, at all.

But he didn’t appear surprised; knowing his insane big brother instinct, Raph probably picked up on some weird juju a while ago.

(it helps and it hurts.)

(it helps because maybe blue isn’t crazy, blue isn’t seeing things.)

(it hurts because not only is blue maybe right, but red noticed.)

“Raph thinks there’s bigger things than us happening, outside of our control. Raph doesn’t like it,” he shivers, looking over a shoulder for a ghost that isn’t there.

“I don’t know what to do,” Leo says, a tad strained, staring staring staring at his good eye, bottle-green not revealing any of the answers he so desperately wants. The drowning sensation is beginning to return, from those stretched months between the invasion and Big Mama’s defeat, a low hum promising the familiar roaring static.

Leo is the leader and he can do this, easy—he can lead his family to fight the aliens that almost shredded them apart and he can face the magical powers plaguing Casey and he can somehow fix the shredded bond separating the kid from his past family and he can make sure they can all emerge unscathed and the list piles higher and higher and Leo will bear it, Leo will carry this weight because he must, because he has to—

Raph’s hand comes down on Leo’s shoulder, stopping the bad thoughts with a stubborn red glare.

Far off, in that place that is not real, blue and sparkling and wide as the sky, something red and safe and familiar takes a stand, says—i will not let you carry this alone, brother.

(without being asked, orange and purple plant their feet, strong and steady, sharing it too.)

Leo’s eyes burn.

“We do exactly what your plan was originally, before this memory business. We set this aside and do the next step of defeating the Krang. Do you think that something is going to happen to Casey any minute, or will he be okay with Don and Mikey for now?” Raph asks patiently, unfolding the plan like one might a new rug, unfurling it with practiced care.

Pushing his way out of the storm in his mind, Leo focuses.

“Right,” he squares his shoulder. “Let’s go down and find Juniper. Obviously we need to tell more yokai, but we have to start with her since she already trusts us. We don’t have enough time to sit around and root out what’s going on with the kid.”

And that’s the truth.

With the Sister breathing down their necks, and the threat of another alien invasion—from…below?—around the corner (and the problem of not all the yokai entirely on his side), Leo hates to admit that Casey’s secrets won’t matter much if there is no world for them to explode into.

There are things that I want to do and things that I have to do and I will learn the difference.

“Let’s go,” Leo nods, unsheathing his katanas with ease, savoring the way the bone-white blades slide gracefully through the air.

As he charges up his power, reaching and grabbing fistfuls of blue, he remembers Donnie and the annoying-yet-endearing promise he made.

(blue yanks at the line, spearing off towards purple.)

heading out. i’ll let you know what happens.

(purple sends a thumb’s up back.)

i’ve got the kid. find us when you come home.

Smiling at the genuinely sweet idea of his brothers doing something so regular with Casey, as simple as skateboarding, Leo searches the lair for aquamarine, a blue wind sailing forth from his mind.

He…doesn’t find anything.

Leo’s ninpo reaches out and grasps at nothing.

What the hell?

Donnie just said that they’re together—Leo can feel the violet glow of his twin, the orange sunburst radiating out from Mikey. He can see the red aura around Raph, even and flowing, but no aquamarine, no boundless ocean, nothing.

Leo squints at the sai twirling in Raph’s hands, red curling around the points like a playful fire, growing brighter and dimmer to a beat only he can hear. He doesn’t seem to know that something—

Something is wrong.

Something is wrong and scooped-out from his ninpo, something missing amongst the colors he keeps close to his heart, bright and fierce and beautiful, missing like the rushing wind, missing like an unfettered sky, missing missing mi—

something is wrong something is not there something is wrong something is—

Pull it together.

Pull it together and try again.

Leo stretches back, and releases a blue arrow one more time. It arcs out and away.

Brushes past something that had not been there.

He starts.

Aquamarine, beating and strong, stands right by purple.

As if it had never left.

no time no time no time—

Leo’s tired, and he probably just missed Casey’s ninpo the first time. They have all been under a crazy amount of strain and Leo is more than happy to admit that with given the whole tattoo shenanigan and fight with the Sister.

Slicing his swords in a tight circle, Leo smiles at the spinning blue portal winking open in the training room, smiles at the way his powers sing and unfurl their wings, smiles at the dragon’s purr—loud enough only for him.

“After you, Fearless,” Raph sketches a mock-bow, mask tails fluttering through the air as he leans forward.

In the span of mere seconds, Leo shoves him over laughing, and flips backward into the portal, still laughing as he watches Raph sputter and clamber to his feet with narrowed eyes that say—now you’ve done it.

…

a wave, towering and ancient and unknown brushes past the blue searchlight.

(hm.)

(interesting that he would sense me so soon.)

…

Please work.

Like a cat with a bell, Leo—faster than the eye can see—bats at the strong and sure portal leading the way to the Hidden City, compromising the magic ever so slightly, overriding the programmed destination with what appears to be a wayward suggestion.

Nothing too crazy—just enough for his plan.

It works like a charm, the pocket dimension shaking at the corners, a low groan rumbling throughout the bright tunnel.

Out of nowhere, the portal stops (which was, Leo has to admit, more abrupt than he expected) and they careen out of the sky down down down towards the seedy Pirate Bazaar, stomachs dropping as the vivid greens and unearthly purples of the city’s underbelly wrap unnerving arms around them. The waters surrounding the towering structure, skulls stretched into warped laughter, leer at Raph and Leo as they plummet.

From hundreds of feet in the air, the Hidden City captivates Leo, its sprawling lands and floating cities and ghoulish architecture—it is beautiful and terrible all at once, yokai everywhere, one living mass and there is no way that Leo is going to be able to protect them all from the Krang.

If it weren’t for Raph’s frantic red projection wrapping arms around him, Leo would have smashed into the ground, a little turtle pancake that had been too busy spiraling. They crash into the tower holding the market, but thankfully, the structure still holds—most likely by some dark magic promised by the original owners.

The landing is rough. Leo’s teeth jam together as his head snaps forward against his brother’s mystic powers. A massive wave of debris and dust and terrible fish smell upstarted by Raph, flows toward the stalls, the disgruntled shopkeepers and shoppers alike—who have all chosen this very moment to glare at the two turtles standing right in the middle of the market.

(good, blue thinks. that got their attention.)

“Leo—what was that? Do you think those portal-pirates were trying to attack us?” Raph asks as the projection shatters apart, red flying in every direction. “Or were your powers…?”

(good, blue sighs. he doesn’t know.)

Shrugging, the portrait of utmost innocence, Leo widens his eyes worriedly.

“I don’t think that was from portal-jackers. That felt different than another time when they stole my ōdachi. It must’ve been me,” he makes a show of looking down both his arms, at the markings glowing with residual power. “My powers must still be getting back together after the tattoo.”

It’s not a lie. Not really.

He did say it was his powers, and he did use his powers to stop the portal.

Raph will understand.

“Where are we?” Raph asks, looking around nervously, yelping to himself as he make eye contact with a few shady-ass looking dudes—octopus assassins and dog bruisers and antelope swordsmen.

Leo jumps at the chance to scan the area, eyes picking apart, turning over every stone as he searches for what he’s looking for. He only has a few seconds, before Raph figures it out…

Nothing yet, save for a sea of pirates—ha, he thinks to himself.

“The Pirate Bazaar…” Leo offers both a cheeky and apologetic look, wilting a bit under his brother’s why the hell are we here expression. His shell grows hot, palms sweating as he feels the ticking clock bearing down on him.

Adapt and move on, adapt and move on, he chants to himself, mind already racing to the next possible thing he can try out.

Raph gestures urgently at his katanas, where they hang loosely at Leo’s sides, his body lined in red as he grows more anxious.

“Well, do you think you can get us all the way to Glass Hollow?”

His question rings loud—maybe too loud in the still-muted bazaar; several patrons now looking over at them with a variety of expressions, intrigue, disgust, confusion.

Over Raph’s shoulder, Leo catches a flash of color, flitting around a corner; another, hiding behind a seafood stall.

His heart lurches into overtime, thumping thumping thumping.

(good, blue decides. his work here is done.)

Leo makes a show of taking a deep breath, rolling his shoulders, and pressing a good luck kiss to each of his swords, ignoring Raph’s exasperated sigh. The feeling of narrowly landing a front flip, of just sliding beneath an enemy’s blade, of sneaking back in before Dad notices he’s gone won’t be leaving him anytime soon.

“Let me try again, Raphie. Here goes nothing,” he mutters, pretending to draw a massive wave of power. (And if Leo burns bright and blue for a few seconds, that’s no one’s business.) “One First Class Portal to Glass Hollow and its very powerful denizens!” Leo announces, annoyingly proud and noisy, prompting an embarrassed cringe out of his brother.

A new portal, a twin to its predecessor, opens a glowing mouth in the Pirate Bazaar, no less strange than anything else going on, and yet, new enough to raise a few eyebrows.

“Raph wonders if you had to say it like that,” he scowls, darkly, rubbing at one of his arm spikes nervously.

“I am nothing if not a showman,” Leo sniffs back delicately, bowing forward to allow him the honors of entering the portal first.

Raph rolls his eyes and steps through, disappearing without a blip.

Leo grins to himself, not a sweet and sunny thing. A wild and wicked one, one that watches pieces click into place from far away, a smile that says i am not playing the same game as you.

As he leaps into this portal, Leo hopes with all his heart, the dragon splayed across his shell opens its maw, sharp and dangerous, a warning and an invitation.

~

Spat out ungracefully before the town’s wrought iron gates, the two of them coughing from the impact, Leo realizes with wonder that he has way more control over the type, length, and quality of portals than he realized.

Being able to create wormholes and teleport objects are not exactly the offensive weapons his brothers wield—creating massive weapons and mechs, Raph’s own projection of himself, mystic arts beyond your wildest dreams—but if Leo can at least make the ride uncomfortable…

Forget what Raph says about his need for angles.

Leo will take any edge he can get in this coming fight.

Standing right at the edge of the town’s limits, the two of them gaze at the tiled roofs and hanging lanterns peeping out from over the walls. Glass Hollow isn’t a massive place—it’s got enough yokai and business to be more than a Podunk settlement, but no where near the numbers of the more congested areas of the Hidden City. Named for its local flora, the Hollow boasts a variety of flowers made from literal glass (much to Donnie’s delight), jewel-toned blossoms that sparkle in the light.

(Fun fact: Leo actually bought a bouquet for April one day, a jaw-dropping cluster of what looked like peonies, but he forgot that she was having college friends over later that night, and one of the botany students got a little too interested in the mystic flowers and…)

(It wasn’t great, that’s for sure.)

(The humans were uncomfortably close to discovering the Hidden City…is all Leo will say.)

Oh wow, Leo’s getting distracted.

It’s just…so peaceful here—the occasional laughter of a child, the warm scent of cinnamon…

Leo wants to hide in here and not come back out. Like. Ever.

Stay focused. There won’t be places like this if we don’t keep it moving.

“That was a…bumpy ride,” his brother rubs his head, one eye falling shut in pain.

“Sorry Raphie,” Leo chirps, rising from a crouch. Part of him is genuinely guilty—he doesn’t want to hurt him, but…there’s more at work right now.

“So…what's the plan again? I distinctly remember when you woke me up—only thirty minutes ago, might I add—I was not informed of much.”

Leo levels a glare up at him.

“Because there wasn’t much of a plan—just updating June!”

Raph throws the glare right back down, doubt gathering at the corners of his mouth.

“Then why did you bring me along?”

(red thinks to himself—i have never heard blue say there isn’t much of a plan.)

Thankfully, Leo’s got a quicksilver grin sliding into place before Raph grows more suspicious.

“Moral support? Dude. With the Krang out there, I figured it would just be best for us to not go off on our own,” he reasons, slinging one katana across his shoulders. Leo steels himself, and the voices muttering—i hope you know what you’re doing under his brother’s I Detect Bullshit Gaze.

A rustling, whisper of movement has both Leo and Raph whirling around, their weapons back at the ready—skepticism momentarily forgotten.

(Thank goodness, Leo sags in relief. Anything to take the heat off of him.)

“Leonardo?”

Curled along the metal prongs of the gate, the fox sits perched, tail bobbing back and forth.

“June! J-Dawg—how are you?” Leo calls up, almost skipping over to the town’s entrance, ignoring Raph’s huff.

The kitsune does not reply.

Um. Hello?

“Juniper?” he asks, hating the way the slightest bit of doubt, of worry, of insecurity slips into his tone. But what else is Leo supposed to feel when all he can see on her vulpine face is this isn’t a great time.

Well, there never is, he concludes to himself before disappearing with a flash.

Stepping out onto the admittedly wobbly gate, Leo balances next to Juniper with a smile—one part concerned, one part confident.

A slash of his sword, and Raph walks out of a portal, better supported by the stone walls.

“So, I’m definitely picking up a Vibe from you right now, but what Raph and I came to say was that there’s been some…updates with the Winged Terrors situation,” Leo begins slowly, watching as her violet eyes gain an edge.

Pursing her lips, June says, “Well, there have also been some…changes since the Crying Titan’s destruction the other day.”

Leo freezes.

Raph curses under his breath.

“That was you, wasn’t it?”

Leo stops and his heart skips a beat, and yeah, it was the right thing to do but he hadn’t…exactly thought of the future ramifications of it.

Too busy saving the kid, a stubborn voice insists.

Too busy being stretched too thin, a smarter voice adds.

“Yes,” he blinks. “Yes, it was."

Juniper smiles, a sad thing. Leo’s stomach squirms, an icky feeling spreading. 

“Leonardo, I’m sure it was necessary, and whatever evil you spared us from—I am endlessly grateful for. But…there are a few, who are less than willing to see it like that.”

Leo furrows his brow, gaze scraping across the town rooftops as he imagines who could be spreading these rumors.

“It’s what we came here to tell you about,” he says, the bad feeling running cool claws down his shell only growing with her silence.

(who put out this young fox’s light?)

(she believed in making this place better.)

Why is everything so quiet all of a sudden?

Leo swings his head back and forth, trying to find any trace of that sweet cinnamon, the glittering flowers, the peaceful sounds of a life lived without fear—

Nothing.

He fans out his ninpo too late, a sky-blue net, sparkling and searching—

“Well look who’s showing their ugly mug here,” a slippery and sly voice says, the very thing that slinks around dark and damp places.

The cold, clawed hand wraps around Leo’s throat.

He tenses, but does not reach for his swords.

Not yet.

Not even when a trio of yokai step out from an alleyway, just below Leo, Raph, and Juniper, cracking their knuckles, shaking out their arms, his ninpo ringing the alarm a little too late.

—

For the love of—

Raph groans, eyes going skyward. June echoes the sentiment.

Of course, in this moment right now, out of everyone they could’ve encountered…

It had to be the Mud Dogs.

“The Mud Dogs?” Leo asks, since apparently Raph said that aloud.

“Yeah…remember that time we split up in the Hidden City?” he asks sheepishly, rubbing his neck.

Leo, alert and taut as a bowstring, markings a warning glow, tracks the guys’ movements like a hawk. A slight breeze ruffles his mask tails, lifting them in the wind.

“Um. Yes?” he replies, still watching them.

“We all had very different days. I got stuck with these fools on some sort of crime spree.”

Maybe they don’t remember me.

Leonard, Mickey, and Danny all look up directly at him.

They remember me.

His brother whistles, low and slow, his smirk entirely at odds with the severity of his expression.

“Damn, Raphie. Didn’t know you had it in ya,” he laughs, empty and metallic. “You wanna tell me anything I should know?”

“Names: Loathsome Leonard, Malicious Mickey, and Dastardly Danny. They worked for Big Mama,” Raph adds as Leo’s glower grows, and a part of him shrivels on the inside, because with the Mud Dog’s reputation and Leo’s absolute…you know, today might eat yesterday’s events with the Krang for breakfast.

(blue is gobsmacked, shaking red’s shoulders.)

those are their names?

(red shrugs.)

wish i was kidding.

“Leonardo, they’re the ones most unhappy with your actions. I fear they’ve swayed many over to their side, in the Hollow alone,” June whispers anxiously, slinking off of the gates to creep on the wall, away from the fallout zone. She wilts under not only their scrutiny, but the gathering yokai.

Her reaction to the Mud Dogs is all the go Leo needs, as he launches off the wrought iron, sheer grace and preternatural strength earning him a safe, quiet, and impressive landing on the cobblestone streets.

Why so silent though? Raph wonders as he leaps down.

It is when he lands—when the impact shakes the town, Mud Dogs stumbling (though just a hair), the other yokai flat-out falling over, he feels a blue presence in his mind.

(blue snorts.)

presentation matters, raphie.

And yeah.

Presentation does matter because they might not be the ones with all the bargaining power, but Leo isn’t going to come across as some punk-ass bitch. Not over his dead body. With his massive brother towering at his back, Leo has a place at the table.

“You rang?”

Leonard prowls forward, lips pulled back in a snarl as he exposes jagged teeth.

The two leaders examine one another, sizing one another up—their red stripes, their penchant for blue.

Neither like it, particularly.

“You’re the little smartass upstart that’s been destroying our city,” Loathsome Leonard snarls.

To his credit, Leo keeps his cool. He holds his hands up, unarmed.

“Look man, I’m not trying to start something. I’m here to warn you guys about the Kr—”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Dastardly Danny leans far too close to Leo’s face. Raph barely suppresses the urge to shove him back. “You see, I’m not sure why anyone should believe you when it’s obvious that your presence in this city has only brought us more problems. The Winged Terrors have been making some good points lately. And…”

Malicious Mickey hisses, curling around Leo—his tail slinking around. The dragon on Leo’s shell growls menacingly at the Mud Dogs, but they don’t seem to notice.

“You got rid of our biggest gig.”

Gold eyes hollow out.

Still, Leo keeps his powers down.

“Big Mama? Are you serious? You guys were robbing from these yokai for her and you’re telling me that I’m ruining your city?”

“Yup,” Leonard pops the p. “Because at the end of the day, we are the yokai and from the looks of it, you are some lab mutant gone wrong. Now, if you be so kind—leave the Hidden City before things get any worse.”

Raph’s heart sinks.

“No, you listen to me. I don’t have to be here, but the Winged Terrors are not your friends. They’re working with the Krang to start kidnapping yokai to help her world-ending plans. You need to leave.”

The Mud Dogs advance on Leo, and if Raph weren’t right there, snarling back, who knows what might’ve happened to Leo.

“No, I don’t think so. And it’s real rich that the guy who first brought the Krang would try and tell us something like that.”

Leo steps back, shocked.

Any remaining blood in Raph’s face is long long long gone—all he can see is red. How dare the Mud Dogs say that, as if they understand what happened, as if they were up on the surface fighting for their lives?

(red is almost flattened by the roaring static erupting out of blue.)

Glass Hollow murmurs and whispers and gasps—hamato leonardo brought the krang? he took down big mama, how could he do that? he is just as bad as they say… what if they are wrong? who can we trust?

“I—”

“You what?” Loathsome Leonard snarls. “Do us a favor, kid. And leave before we really get angry.”

Glass Hollow wonders—who is hamato leonardo really? why is here now?

His little brother’s mouth flattens into a line, something snapping and living and fanged in his gold eyes.

But he backs down.

What?

(red reaches out.)

(a roaring silence echoes.)

“Yeah, run back along to your little turtle mommy! Why don’t you go release some aliens elsewhere!” Dastardly Danny cries, earning a few weak-willed laughs from the townsfolk.

Raph literally cannot believe his eyes. These boneheads have no idea what’s going on, and they’re laughing their way towards doom.

Leo doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t stop stalking away from the gates, but Raph can feel the effort it takes for him to leash his temper, a wave of fury so bright and so mighty it momentarily stuns his own ninpo.

Raph sends the Mud Dogs a crystal-clear threat in his eyes, teeth baring in a terrifying snarl.

You’re lucky he’s walking away. You wouldn’t be, if things were switched, he thinks, protectiveness for Fearless snapping viciously at the idiotic yokai.

He waits until they’re back out of the town, at least ten minutes away, trying to imagine a scenario where it doesn’t look like they’ve been kicked out, tails between their legs when he speaks up, nerves fluttering.

“Leo—I’m so sorry, how did they know—”

His brother spins around, an unreadable expression on his face.

“A mouthy bitch, that’s for sure,” Leo replies—not really focused on Raph, but rather slowly breathing in and out, as if preparing himself for something.

As if waiting for something.

Wait. Why are we just standing here? Raph realizes, looking back and forth at the bright orange meadows surrounding the walls. And why is he so calm?

He would’ve expected Leo to at least lose it a little, with the way the Mud Dogs were speaking to him…

“Uh…Leo? Are you going to make a port—”

A cry pierces the air.

“Raph,” Leo says urgently, pointing upwards.

A dark cloud of hate and vengeance swarms over the tiny image of Glass Hollow, cackles and jeers its own symphony.

The Winged Terrors, Raph realizes, his stomach switching places with his feet.

He watches in horror as they begin diving down towards the now screaming yokai of the town, yellowed eyes like demons straight from hell. The small town responds with its own song of screams and fear as the Terrors the begin tearing families and neighbors from one another.

Leo is already racing back when Raph looks down on him, blue blurring against the countryside.

Punching his fists together, Raph plunges into his powers, erupting with a deafening roar that stops at least a few of the Terrors, his massive red form rearranging the horizon. Leaping into the giant portal summoned by Leo, Raph lands smack-dab in the middle of the town, accidentally smashing through a glass florist’s stall, sending deadly shards of every color flying in every which direction.

The Winged Terrors watch with glee, their yellowed eyes devouring the future destruction.

“NO!” his scream shatters out of his throat, the glass spearing towards the innocent yokai cowering from the Terrors.

“I got ya,” Leo yells, landing on his avatar’s shoulder.

Throwing his sword like a boomerang (like a boomerang), the katana arcs out in a circle around Raph, its blade ripping open that place between worlds to catch the shards.

In mere seconds, the devastating flesh-rending wave is gone, and Leo’s already jumping away into the fray, swords like slivers of moonlight.

His body, wreathed in blue, cuts through the melee, and instantly draws several of the Terrors onto his trail.

Leo meets every single one of them with graceful slashes of his swords, powerful kicks to sides and legs, a wicked smile that says—i am the one to be afraid of out here.

Yeesh, Raph thinks.

And though he’s got an awesome tattoo at his back (that sometimes actually reaches out???), his brother isn’t invincible.

Leo roars with pain as a Terror catches his still-healing shoulder, knee buckling for only a moment.

The look Fearless gives his attacker can only be described as living fury, red hot and scathing as he unleashes himself upon her.

Double yeesh, Raph decides, going back to his corner of the fight.

“We are merely searching for some food,” a Terror croons towards a mother and her children, scrabbling away.

“Gross,” Raph yells at the guy, his avatar nailing him in the side.

“How else do you think we get our power, mortal?”

“I don’t want to know! I didn’t ask!” he bashes the head of the talkative antelope into another yokai, sending them crashing into the ground hard, cracks spiderwebbing out.

Leaping in and out of his vision, lightning-fast, is Juniper, an orange blur with that unique battle cry. Raph gets the hell out of her and her sharp daggers’ way.

He spots the Mud Dogs, fighting against the Terrors with unmistakable confusion, shocked that Leo may have been right about what’s going on in this city. Mickey lashes out with his tail and fins, Danny and his strange tricks. For every Terror that tries to take or harm a yokai from the Hollow, there’s a Mud Dog, snarling and scrappy, taking them back down. 

But…the more he looks, it seems like Leonard is solely defending something behind him, only striking when a Terror draws too close.

Probably money, Raph rolls his eyes, but he kicks away the pink-banded yokai before they take too big of a chunk out of the Mud Dogs.

“Did you lead them here?!” Loathsome Leonard cries, dark eyes flashing.

Raph shakes his head, no.

Something like gratitude—albeit resentful, flickers across his face.

Losing himself back into the song of battle and punches and mystic powers, Raph fights and fights and fights, twisting and jumping and kicking, his breath ragged in his ears. Sometimes he grows large and sometimes he multiples himself, surrounding a particularly nasty yokai. And even when his body aches, his muscles scream, and his vision fluttering, he thinks—protect protect protect.

Thanks to the townsfolk that chose to fight back, Leo and Raph were able to beat back the Terrors, subduing them before any real damage arose.

There was a small fire further away as a goat-man panicked and crashed into a fire-light, but other than that…

A job well done.

As the last Terror is knocked down, the pommel of his katana straight to their head, Leo turns pleading eyes to the townsfolk and begs them, “Please, go while you can, escape this—the Winged Terrors are not just an annoying nuisance! Some of them have sided with the Krang, a bloodthirsty alien that will stop at nothing to wipe this world out.”

The yokai of Glass Hollow begin to look at one another, something like begrudging belief dawning on their faces.

One rhino yokai, loud but spineless, bursts out of the crowd—teeth bared and flashing. He grabs a fallen sword and begins swinging it around dangerously (the townsfolk are more at risk from him, Raph sighs).

He mouths back at Leo, “And you became the commander when?”

Raph is making sure that Leo will be taking a long, long, long break after all of this.

Just as he’s about to come up with a devastating retort (Raph knows, he can see the way Leo’s winding it back in his head), a Winged Terror, yellow eyes bulging, veins crackling with green, cackles.

The sound, awful and discordant and grating, slices through the chaos.

“See how they still do not believe! The Sister will slaughter them, suck their bones dry to bring back the Brother and still they choose to walk towards that fate!”

Leo clenches his jaw in frustration, flashing right out of sight.

All at once, he lands atop the shocked yokai, one knee digging into his chest as he falls; simultaneously, Leo cuts an arm down, and the shrieking griffin disappears in a flurry of blue sparks.

The crowd falls silent—not even a child’s cry sounding.

Even the Mud Dogs watch, wordless.

Glass Hollow takes a collective inhale.

Paper lanterns swing in the breeze.

“When I got up and decided to. Tell me, when would you have gotten up? When the Krang breached the city and smoke filled the sky? When the Krang took your village and you heard the cries of your neighbors? When the flames of your burning home shone in your eyes?"

Leo leans down, close as a lover.

“When would you have gotten up?” he whispers, loud as a storm, powerful as an earthquake.

The yokai is unable to do anything but glare daggers, having given up the fight.

Leo climbs off of him, offering a hand—bloody knuckles, bruised fingers and all.

Fight almost entirely wiped out, the rhino yokai snuffs, though more of an All Bark No Bite situation, and takes Leo’s hand. And because Leo is Leo, stronger than he seems—pulls the guy up easily, not breaking a sweat.

“I’m not here to ruin your lives, to take charge, to become the new Big Mama or whatever you all seem to think I want. I’m here because I am trying to fix my mistakes.”

The bare-bones honesty, the horrifying and cleansing reality of owning up to your failures—in such a public way would break a normal being.

Would bend them beyond repair.

Not Leo, Raph thinks proudly.

Not his Fearless Blue, who can do what no one else can.

“Haven’t any of you ever done something you wish you could take back, and then suddenly the opportunity to try and make things right appears right in front of you? Tell me—what would you do? Would you get up? Would you fight?” he asks, equal parts the gentle leader and unyielding commander. 

A few yokai actually incline their heads to him out of sheer respect. (That snaps Danny and Mickey back into their senses as they roll their eyes, muttering to themselves about do-gooders.)

Leo’s gaze, golden and firm, sweeps across them.

“I’m not here to fight you.”

He shudders, blue rippling across his body.

“I’m here to tell you, that this,” Leo gestures behind him. “Is only the beginning if you stay. My family can beat this, but not if the Krang find you—if the Krang take you and raise more of them. Please. Escape while you can.”

Not his Fearless Blue, who leads as well as he breathes, who shows the way, the Right Way even when he doesn’t realize it.

“Theodora? Theodora!”

Loathsome Leonard bursts out of the crowd, panicked, searching back and forth.

“My kid—my little girl, does anyone see her?”

“You have a child?” Raph exclaims, jaw dropping. 

“Yes,” Leonard hisses back, practically tearing his hair out. “Why would I have told you that?"

Fair point.

They join the search for this Theodora, a young bear with bright green eyes, Leonard describes. Raph does his best to ignore the way he knows this feeling all too well—losing someone you are supposed to be in charge of, whether it was Donnie or Mikey or Leo, it always felt horrible and slimy and heart-poundingly terrifying.

June covers her mouth with her hands, violet eyes like saucers.

“She’s up there,” she whispers, pointing.

The bear cub is caught in the clutches of a falcon yokai, a cackling Terror with a pink band around her left wing.

Raph sees the moment it hits Leo—his pupils like pinpricks, the intake of breath.

Unlike his blasé attitude in the Pirate Bazaar, outside the Hollow’s limits, his little brother seemed relaxed. At ease.

Seeing that a child has been taken.

It changes something.

A force, unearthly and fierce and mighty, swims beneath Raph’s feet, gathering to Leo. Only Raph can see it, a blue shimmering film around Leo, but the yokai can sense something big nearby.

They step away from Leo. Blue dances along the intricate glass windows of the town, skittering across the cobblestones, swirling around the townsfolk, a blanket of protection from the Hamato Clan as he prepares to do something both very brave and very stupid.

Leonard cries out, Mickey and Danny rushing to his sides.

“Someone—someone’s gotta get me up there, someone please anyone,” he begs, clawing at his brothers.

No one volunteers, no one moves, because the falcon and the cub are so far away, are becoming like dots on the horizon, and Raph does not want to know what the Sister could possibly need from a child.

Leo cranks a shoulder back, sheathing his swords, face set with grim determination.

“I got her,” Leo growls.

“You??”

“Yes, me. Trust me, I will get your child back,” Leo promises, his courage, his steadiness extending to the Mud Dog.

His hands open and close, markings bright, jaw set firmly.

“Raph?”

Raph opens the palm of his hand, brushing away the warning bells, the don’t let your little brother do this, instead summoning a mystic version of his hand for Leo to climb into. From there, he winds back and throws his brother as hard as he can, aimed directly at the falcon and the child.

Leo flies through the air like he was made for it, soaring clear and true and strong. Sounds of awe and worry unfurl from the crowd, including the Mud Dogs, everyone watching the shooting blue star, burning hot—burning bright.

“Why doesn’t he use some of that fancy portal work?” Malicious Mickey asks, sidling up against Raph.

“There’s a child involved,” he says simply. “Leo won’t risk any kind of mystic powers until he’s got her safe. Too much of a risk.”

“…”

Raph turns, squinting at Leonard.

“What?”

The ogre looks up at Raph, eyes shining with tears.

“He didn’t even hesitate. He just went.”

Raph doesn’t reply to that, because there is no need. Everything he would say about Leo is unfolding before their very eyes, Fearless: big-hearted and brave.

—

not a child not a child not a child are they insane—

Leo tears through the Hidden City’s sky, and if he could see himself, he wouldn’t be surprised if the green atmosphere had been rent in two by a blue spear. He ignores the part of him that wants to sink into a dark cave and never come out—the ugly truth of his involvement with the original Krang invasion undeniably out in the open.

(blue can’t help but feel the smallest inch of relief at not having to hide.)

Closer and closer he flies, momentum still gaining—whether from Raph’s throw or a desperate wish to save the child, his body tensed.

if this were mikey if this were casey if this were donnie if this were raph—

He shakes his head, tears streaming from the wind.

Can’t think like that.

The red current winging beneath him begins to fade, distance waning Raph’s powers.

Closer and closer he nears, and at this point, he can hear the child crying, sobbing for her father, beating tiny paws against the eagle’s claws.

“Help!” she shrieks.

I’m almost there, Leo screams in his mind, arms readying to grab to take back to protect.

The falcon turns her head, yellow eyes meeting his own.

He looses his ninpo, ever so slightly, a toothed and dangerous and wild thing unfurling behind him.

She sees him—a blue leader, racing after the lost child.

She knows the threat—a blue demon, rising to bring her down.

She can tell she won’t win—a blue fighter, with nothing to lose.

She does not let go.

(blue searches, for anything that doesn’t come from pink and slime and evil, but finds nothing. no part of the yokai that once was.)

(blue recoils.)

(there is only the willing silence.)

(this yokai chose the dark.)

(blue does not does not DOES NOT think about how this silence feels like the muted blanket thrown over aquamarine.)

Tightening her talons around the bear cub, she beats her wings and flies on.

This bitch, he rolls his eyes to himself, an inappropriate chuckle rising. Yeah—she’s got the kid, but the thing is…Leo’s had seventeen long years to perfect the art of keep-away—both in protecting the object and disarming his brothers.

Teleporting the last few feet, risking a collision, he jabs at the place where her wings meet the rest of her body—tender and vulnerable.

(Leo knows because that’s exactly where he has to poke Dee to get him to take off his battle shell—especially when he’s been wearing it for too long.)

The eagle releases the child with a mind-melting scream, stabbing through Leo’s skull.

He grits his teeth, and without drawing a sword, he rips open a portal, wide and sparkling beneath the bear cub—one that brings her right back to her family’s arms.

Her cries wink out, the doorway shut.

Leo hurls a katana, a white streak, toward Glass Hollow as he feels the signal from Raph—safe and sound.

The Terror snarls viciously as she realizes the child has been stolen back, and rears against Leo; she bucks and fights and thrashes, but he’s got an arm wrapped around her neck in a chokehold, his breath fanning out against pink-tinged feathers.

They fall and fall and fall, meteors from the unnatural sky in this underground city. The world becomes a kaleidoscope of blurred colors, floating objects, and flying creatures, rushing past them without abandon.

(red clucks at blue.)

self-preservation much?

(blue shoos red off.)

presentation matters.

“Let go of me, you fool—or we’ll both perish!” the eagle yokai bellows, flapping her wings to no avail, pinned as they are beneath Leo’s body.

He says nothing, clenching his arm tighter, the luminescent ground brighter and brighter as they draw dangerously close to it.

It might seem like he’s lost in that savage calm, that eerie state of his, but Leo is fully in control of himself and he is angry.

Leo made a plan and the plan went…well, but even best laid ones can go awry and this? A child getting lost in the mix?

Not the plan.

So, instead of working through it (because he has no time for that), the birdbrain is going to receive what they deserve. The dragon at his back snarls in agreement.

Caught in a death spiral, they twirl down like two bullets, and before Leo kisses the grass with his face, he reaches through space and time for his sword, fading out of side as he teleports away.

Leaving the eagle to splatter into nothingness, a dark stain across the ground.

Or at least so Leo thinks, as he flies through the pocket dimension—pure adrenaline like a white-hot brand in his throat.

Not my circus, not my monkeys.

—

His brother is shaken.

Not obviously, but enough that anyone who grew up with him would be able to tell.

As the yokai of Glass Hollow thank Leo for bringing their young back, instead of the bright and golden smile he’d normally offer, he gives them something that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he yanks a sword from the ground, tucking it away.

Lost.

Stale.

But why would he act like that? When he got to kick butt alongside Raph, rub it in the Mud Dogs’ faces, his little brother pulled off a rescue like that?

That’s when it clicks with Raph.

presentation matters presentation matters presentation matters—

“Oh Leo…”

The world slows down.

As if he heard it (which he probably did), Leo glances over his shoulder, golden gaze coolly assessing him.

It hadn’t been an accident, earlier, when Leo’s portal only took them as far as the Underground Market.

He should have known.

There are no accidents with Leo.

There are only plans and back-up plans.

Don’t play the same game as everyone else, Raphie, he said once, long ago.

His ferocious little Blue.

He wonders when this happened, when he went from sweet, wide-eyed child to ruthlessly strategic—Raph wonders that but more importantly he wonders if this is who Leo has been all along, sharp as a knife, clever as a fox, determined as all get-out.

(blue opens the line, honesty rippling toward red.)

i hoped that they’d listen, but i knew they wouldn’t. the stakes were high but not close enough to the losers.

(red whistles across the bridge, the sound echoing into the dull silence of blue.)

you knew they would refuse to see the truth, so you made them see.

(blue stands, firm and tall. ready to be put in his place, ready to bear the consequences red might deliver.)

(beyond impressed, red reaches out, swirling around blue.)

not mad, lee. you’re a brilliant and clever bastard. 

Raph remembers something he once told Leo: Sometimes we just have to make choices. Sometimes they’re good ones and we keep going. Sometimes they’re bad ones and we get back up and try again. But at the end of the day, that’s all we can do. Make choices and own them.

(red brings blue up to his feet.)

this is how you roll, leo. own it. we had a problem and you handled it. shit happens and we keep going. i won’t tell.

(relief, tinged with blue, floods red.)

(somewhere distantly, a dragon rumbles affectionately.)

“Um…so what are we supposed to do with these guys?” June calls over, nudging one of the Winged Terrors with a hesitant paw.

Leo clenches a fist.

The tattoo on his shell flares bright.

As if they’re standing above ice, watching a monstrous creature swim below, his brother’s power skitters beneath their feet, jaws rising up and around the city.

Every single last one of the Terrors fades from sight, blue sparks skittering across the ground.

“You won’t have to worry about them again.”

(red hums expectantly.)

(blue sighs and answers.)

i'd been exploring the hidden city, or…breaking and entering. you caught me, raph. and i found a place they lock up the super-baddies—a kind of mystic-powers-cancelling-oubliette, cool word right? near the council of heads. they won’t be coming out any time soon.

(leaning back in surprise, red isn’t sure what else to say.)

(blue shrugs, a bit of that emptiness lingering.)

there isn’t anything else to say.

Leo casts Raph a glance—both appreciative and somber—before facing the approaching Mud Dogs, shifting ever so slightly on his feet.

The only sign of his nervousness.

The only sign of his guilt and his worry and his i didn’t mean for things to get out of hand and his i knew things would get out of hand but what was i supposed to do?

“That tattoo you've got ain’t half bad,” Loathsome Leonard admires openly, leaning back and forth as he watches the dragon track him. “You mind tellin’ me where ya got it done?”

Leo blinks.

And he bursts into excited action, wariness falling like water from his shoulders.

“My little brother actually,” Leo replies proudly, glowing from within. The dragon’s head slithers over his neck, gold winking at his collarbones.

“You think he’d rig us up?”

Leo beams, more than happy to bring his brother more canvases, more yokai willing to see his gifts in action.

Raph watches on, pleased to see more of his chirpy Fearless emerging.

That is until…

“He’d be over the moon. When this all blows over—”

His face darkens at that, mouth snapping shut.

Loathsome Leonard runs a hand through his streaked hair, taking a deep breath.

“Kid, about this situation. We saw what you did to the Battle Nexus, how you defeated Big Mama. I’m not gonna say it didn’t hurt our purses, but…I can’t deny the good it did to this place.”

The fish yokai steps up leans against Leonard.

“We wanted to ignore what was happening, brush off the Winged Terrors…and it seemed easier to blame you for the unrest,” Malicious Mickey said apologetically, gripping his tail.

“But we see now.”

Leonard hoists the bear cub onto his shoulders, a tender smile—saved only for the little girl on his lips.

“And you saved my darling, my Theodora. I owe you a debt as good as any.”

Leo shifts, off-balance for once, blinks owlish gold eyes. He hadn’t expected this, Raph notes with a certain smugness, happy to see his wily little brother surprised for once. Sheathing his swords, Leo places his hands on his hips as if to steady himself.

(red supports blue, steady as a mountain.)

let them help you.

(blue chuckles, color returning.)

my morally grey brother who?

Raph heroically manages to not shove Leo onto his face—instead shooting him a glare that says—you said it yourself, the stakes are high and we got things to do.

His brother hides a smile like a champ, pursing his lips as he offers Leonard, “Um. You could just, like, not publicly hate me anymore.”

“We was thinking, and decided: whatever help you need in the fight, we’ll be there,” Leonard settles firmly, no room for objections. “When you call, we’ll fight. And in the meantime…”

Dastardly Danny picks up where he left off, “We’re gonna let the city know. Tell them the truth—make them listen.”

Each of the Mud Dogs grin threateningly, smashing fists together, twirling weapons.

Daybreak, beautiful and blinding, bursts out of Leo, his face crumpling with raw gratitude.

“What…?” he laughs breathlessly, swiping a lightning-fast hand across his tears.

“We’re with you, kid. You and that souped-up family of yours. No batshit-insane alien freak-show is gonna take this place. Not on our watch.”

“But, I didn’t come here to ask people to fight. I wanted you guys to leave,” Leo says almost helplessly, hands falling open in supplication.

“And that’s why we want to help,” Mickey replies earnestly, cuffing his brother in the shoulder.

“We’ll even add in a little extra for that moxie we saw back there. You wanna put a hit out or anything?”

Leo actually considers this, lip jutted out.

“Leo,” Raph freaks, feeling that chasm or whatever appearing on his face. It’s a really good thing that it was Raph who got stuck with these fools instead of any of his brothers, because he’s pretty sure the entire Hidden City would have been demolished had that happened.

Loathsome Leonard glances up, smirking.

“This one yours?”

(He knows. He’s just being a little shit.)

“Yeah,” he replies, a hint of glass, sharp and bright lingering in his tone.

Don’t mess with him.

The ogre gives him a knowing look, something like—wouldn’t dare. just saying, it’s a full-time job.

Raph blinks, taken aback. Then nods, exhausted and appreciative—it never stops.

Clearing his throat, Leo’s mouth firms, and it is no longer a dumbass sixteen-year-old joking around with former (or not?) gang members, it is a leader, Fearless and gold, carrying himself with dignity and grace.

“I don’t know how this’ll end,” Leo warns—i don’t know if we walk out of this, he doesn’t say.

“None of us do, brother,” Leonard replies, cheerfully—there’s nothing if we don’t try, he doesn’t say.

Leo clasps a hand with the ogre, their grins like twin hazards, bright amongst the debris.

“For your home above,” Leonard begins.

“For your home below,” Leo finishes.

—

Leo’s comms roar to life as he steps outside of Glass Hollow, readying a portal for Raph and himself.

“…lee! nardo!”

His heart skitters, skips a beat. Donnie sounds too manic too flustered—

“Donnie? Donnie, are you okay?” he asks breathlessly into his wrist, exchanging a terrified glance with Raph.

The Krang couldn’t have regrouped this fast.

Right?

“Nardo, we’re fine. I apologize for the urgency. But Junior’s unlocked his mystic powers! They’re oddly specific to his character and…the thing we talked about earlier? Come back and see, if you’re done overturning the poor denizens of Glass Hollow.”

A stone, spiky and heavy, drops into his stomach, pulling Leo down down down.

He should be happy, he should be glad, he should be thrilled that the kid finally found his way amongst the Hamato ninpo but he doesn’t.

It makes no sense.

It is all his fears coming true, every last little whispering voice at the back of his mind saying—you were right and now what?

Focusing on the task at hand, Leo raises his arm, eyes narrowing in thought.

“How’d you know what we were doing?”

Donnie’s smug-ass voice filters out of the device.

“Tracking chip. And I know more of that secret code you use than you think.”

Leo scowls at the comms, deflating. He continues to ignore the questioning look on Raph’s face.

“Copy that, we’re on our way back,” he reports, lowering his wrist, unsheathing a sword.

Raph stops him, a What The Hell Is Up With You expression. He crosses his large, spiked arms, planting himself between Leo and the spinning portal.

“Why don’t you seem more excited about this?”

Leo sucks in a breath, squaring his shoulders.

“Haven’t you seen the kid? He created some wacky-ass weapon that even Barry was afraid of, he’s stuck in these painful memories that give him nosebleeds, and this morning, I couldn’t even feel his ninpo for a few seconds. And now Donnie’s telling us that Casey’s unlocked his mystic powers? Something that took you jumping off a cliff to unlock?” Leo asks incredulously, hating the way his own doubts ripple across his brother’s face. “The thing Donnie was talking about was what I told you too—something’s wrong and I mean it. Even Dee felt it and you know how he is with mystic stuff.”

I will be strong for my family.

“Do you need a minute, Lee?” Raph asks, achingly tender, ready to throw up some kind of red barrier between him and the world that demands to be carried.

“Not here,” Leo shakes his head, because no he can’t fall apart out here.

Because no, he doesn’t have time to.

Leo steels his spine, gaze flattening out into the strange and horrific countryside.

“Be on your guard. What I felt in that eagle…it wasn’t different from what I felt in the kid. I don’t think he’s hiding something bad, but it’s enough to keep us out."

“Got it, big man,” his brother chirps affirmatively.

Leo twists his mouth, looking to the side.

Today brought less victories than he hoped.

Get back up and try again, Mind-Raph offers helpfully.

It takes a Herculean effort to jump into the portal back to the lair.

It shouldn’t.

Chapter Text

Casey stumbles to the side, his mind screaming.

The horrible nothingness of the pain paints the hallway a blinding white, and as he thumps a fist into it, shockwaves the opposite of color ripple outwards hard enough to sear his own brain.

Where did it go wrong?

Who is he kidding?

He knows exactly how it went wrong.

The downward spiral away away away from purple and orange and red and green and blue, a downward spiral so slow it was unnoticeable until it wasn’t, a downward spiral that led him nowhere but rock bottom and part of Casey is afraid to admit that he knew it wouldn’t end well, but how could he not try how could he not try how could he not—

Casey collapses, hands plunging into a freezing stream, letting the water cool his mind.

He kept it in for too long but where was it supposed to go?

Where does grief go?

No one told him—Sensei certainly didn’t.

Sea-green skitters out, leaking from his hands like a dying pulse.

He inhales and it returns to his body.

Right back to him.

Nowhere.

It goes nowhere.

The horrible nothingness of it all beats in his chest, staticky and sharp, needles poking and prodding, saying—you had it all and you gave it up.

Secrets and secrets and secrets; turtles all the way down.

He remembers what he once said before he thought any of this would work.

“All I am is grief,” Casey whispers.

He says it now because he is a fool to have thought any of this would work.

“All I have is grief.”

~

Casey shifts on his feet, nervous but excited.

The sea of aquamarine thrums just beneath his skin, a live wire aching to have its way. It yanks at the bit, straining against the hastily erected boundaries Casey had to place after that day on the roof, prowling around the walls like a caged predator.

At first, it was a quiet murmur, a whisper in the night.

let me out.

And Casey ignored it, because. Well. He wanted to.

Again.

let me out.

And again, and again, and again.

let me out.

That was when Casey built the confines, when his powers turned a sharp eye back at him, when the voice molded and warped, when it learned how to be stubborn.

It croons at him day and night, let me out let me out let me out—

More than a whisper, more than a hushed secret, Casey shoves at his powers, at the tangle of green and aquamarine that churns in the sea below, that turns its water into fire and his lungs into ash.

(no part of aquamarine is foolish enough to think he could control it.)

Whenever he pauses for a second too long to stare at his powers—that’s when it really starts.

That’s when he hears let me out let me show you what you could be you don’t have to be burdened with grief if you let me out you will feel so much better you could be so much more than grief let me—

The line between aquamarine and green is blurry at best, and the sooner Casey figures out what the hell he’s supposed to do, the sooner he can go on his way and not be steamrolled by potentially the multiverse’s most powerful weapon.

What would he think of me now? part of him wonders.

He’d call me his cutthroat little demon, and be proud of my cleverness.

Would he?

Casey shakes his head, dispelling the thought.

Okay, okay. It’s okay. I’m okay. I am in control and it’s okay, he tells himself, squashing his panic beneath a firm boot. The empyrean did tell him that it would “irrevocably alter his spiritual essence” but. In a good way, probably.

A chill wind stings his cheeks.

So, no. He isn’t sure how bad it is for him, but Casey does know that he has to keep the empyrean a secret from his family, and he has to keep his true mission from the empyrean, and he has to figure out how to move on and keep those threads untangled, and all of it seems a little easier said than done.

But as soon as his plans are through—as soon as he kills the Krang, he adds for good measure, he’ll let go of the empyrean. However that goes.

And Casey will be fine.

let me out.

He does not respond, because the one time he did (the one time he was more curious than a longer glance), Casey was swept so far and wide by the mighty force that he couldn’t walk straight for ten minutes.

(Donnie laughed at him and asked, “Rough night?”

“You have no idea,” Casey laughed weakly.)

(he missed the dark look shot his way by purple that morning.)

(keeping secrets can be…distracting.)

Now, standing in the sun-dappled forest, he breathes in the cool air, the crisp mountains, the babbling stream and allows himself to genuinely feel nervous to learn about his family’s ninpo. He slept a few more hours than usual last night, and Leo is finally done with being dragged down to the Hidden City for several hours at a time. (After apparently what was a super crazy time involving the Mud Dogs. Casey heard them mentioned briefly by Uncle Tello once. Something about discount options getting worse every year.)

Casey feels refreshed.

Awake.

Confident that his ninpo won’t spiral out of control anytime soon.

His family is scattered about, stretching and flexing, sunning themselves in the rare winter light, swaddled in cold weather gear.

Regardless, Casey is appreciative of the fact that the last piles of snow from the storm a few days go have finally melted, exposing the grass below (where he will inevitably be face-planting in very soon).

April and Donnie are currently huddled together, peering into the bright screen of Donnie’s armband, chattering away about some new invention he’s figured out. Mikey’s busy trying to win a push-up competition with Raph which will end soon than later, but…Casey’s having a good time watching.

Laughing helps with, you know, ignoring the empyrean hanging around.

Unlocking his own mystic powers with Donnie and Mikey might have been…synthetic in nature—not that he’s complaining, the empyrean (though terrifying) did him a solid. No doubt about it.

But, when he finally manifested his own powers, something beyond the reach of the green in his veins occurred.

The veil was lifted.

Casey all of a sudden could reach out and speak to his brothers, pluck their crackling and bouncing ninpo from the air to cradle in his hands. In startling detail, he felt their thoughts, the way they lift and support one another, their fierce love and for a little while, it was enough to cover the gaping hole in his own heart.

Until the voice whispered again.

let me out.

(Casey wishes he knew it comes from.)

Focus, he berates himself. Wait, where is Leo?

A wave of blue streaks past him.

Phasing into focus, glowing like a blade emerging from the forge, Leo steps out into the middle of the clearing. Arms outstretched, he clears his throat as if he is the announcer of some great show, bowing and curtsying to his brothers and sister—despite their eyerolls.

Presentation matters, Casey mouths along with Raph, the two of them remembering Leo’s number one code of conduct.

“Ladies and gentle-turtles, I do believe it is time for the moment we’ve all been waiting for,” he calls out, voice strong and clear (and maybe a little forced, because there’s something lingering in the corners of his gold eyes, the line of his shoulders). “I’ve gathered you here today for a full Hamato Clan ninpo training crash-course abridged version special, or FHCNTCAVS for short.”

April’s already Over It.

“Nardo—entertain me for a second. You know what acronyms mean, right?” Donnie asks through a pair of squinted eyes, one fist covering his exasperated smile.

Leo flaps a hand at him, making some snobbish scoff in response.

Casey hides a grin at their antics.

It’s not missed by Leo, whose gold eyes flicker with something like yeah yeah.

The Elephant Between casey and leo comes rushing back between the two of them, and each look away.

“Glad to see you exercising your right to be disrespectful, Don. Anyhoo, I do believe a formal congratulations is in order for our own Future Boy in figuring out his mystic powers just in time for a second Krang invasion. Applause later, everyone,” Leo hushes them, jutting a hip out. “For today, I’m thinking we each show Casey a basic run of our ninpo and mystic powers, so that he can learn how to integrate himself into that while fighting.”

Mikey nods encouragingly, beaming in the sunlight.

“It’s a lot, at first. Trying to sort out your own and lean on someone else. But you’ve got the razzmatazz in there, Case. I believe in you.”

Casey smiles gratefully, unable to find the words.

(it might be the green powering up under his skin keeping him silent.)

Clearing his throat, Donnie walks away from April to approach Casey, hands linked behind his battle shell. He cuts an intimidating figure—gold eyes and plain gaze and unimpressed attitude.

Casey does his best not to shrink.

“I hope you don’t mind my asking, but, didn’t you learn some of this before?” he asks honestly, dragging Casey right back to the place he never leaves, even if he wanted to.

No, he thinks, but it’s not his voice. It is older and piercing and so, so very tired.

No.

He’s not looking at Donnie anymore, the clearing anymore, the bright winter’s day.

Noooo.

A war-torn landscape, a shattered pink sky—

My final answer is no.

(“casey. my final answer is no.”

“sensei—please,” casey is about to beg on his knees, tired of this fight, tired of this argument, tired of losing.

“no.”

he scowls darkly, digging his toe into the ashy dirt.

dawn illuminates the warning look on sensei’s face, immovable, unyielding.

he wants to stomp his foot, feel the sting of the ground sing up his leg, but sensei has taught him better than that.

casey settles for clenching his jaw, instead.

settles for reigning in that impossible temper.

“why?” he asks, throat clogged with tears as he tries to understand why sensei would shut him out from this.

he’s so angry he could cry, which should be embarrassing but it isn’t.

not when sensei’s dismissal hurts this bad.

it is not as though casey never saw sensei or master michelangelo or…or uncle tello wield their mystic powers, never saw their eyes glow like the sun when they tapped into their ninpo.

sensei snaps, blue erupting.

“because it a death sentence! have you seen what happened to raph? to dee? being a part of the stupid-ass hamato spirit club isn’t the sunshine experience you think it is. it is a target on your back, a promise for a bad ending,” his tirade fades into a fluttering whisper, the agony of being one of two brothers left a wound that will never close.

it is the raw scrape of a knife on glass.

fourteen years since raphael disappeared.

two years since uncle tello died.

casey can barely see the brilliant dawn, he’s crying so hard.

“sensei,” he warbles. “they didn’t die because of who you guys are, they died because this is a war. and don’t start with that ‘it’s my fault’ shit. you were my age when it happened.”

for dramatic effect, casey flings a hand out to the sky, where the technodrome sits lazily beside the rising sun, blessedly dormant…for now.

“and that, isn’t? everything that’s going on everyday isn’t? sensei. i’ve survived this long, and you aren’t going to push me away like that, not this easily.”

sensei is stunned, hilariously so. the worn edges and harsh countenance utterly surprised.

staring at him, mouth in a firm line, casey thinks—

“you’ve got me again, jones,” sensei’s face breaks out into a grin—casey’s favorite kind, eyes crinkled at the corners, some of that youthful slyness he never quite lost peeking out.

casey can’t control the elation, the weightlessness beneath his feet blossoming at having finally won.

“well, first things first—”

an alarm, shrill, slices through the air.

it cannot dull this win.

“casey, i—”

“later, old man. we’ve got a world to save,” he cracks a wild grin, turning to jump into the fight.

because as soon as they fight the krang and get back, then sensei will finally teach him, will finally lower that final barrier.

“casey, wait.”

and he waits, patiently, heart beating to the rhythm of the resistance’s pounding footsteps.

“this is what it could feel like,” sensei murmurs, a flickering blue drifting around his fingertips. gold eyes, tired and fond, watch him carefully.

a star blossoms in casey’s chest.

blue.

sparkling and wild as the open skies.

it is sensei and casey could weep from the beauty of it all, from his sensei’s proud and resilient spirit, living inside him.

“thank you.”

“i love you, squirt.”

“love you too, d—sensei,” he barrels on over the word-stumble, all but dragging sensei out to the battle.)

Didn’t you learn some of this before?

No.

He only knew what Sensei’s felt like—that’s why Casey always felt like he was on solid ground around Leo.

That single glimpse, blink-and-you-miss-it.

That is all it ever was.

Because that was the day it all ended. The day the Krang began their final assault, wiped out the resistance, and shattered Casey into a million pieces, scattered about the earth.

It almost would have been kinder to never know it at all.

Leo once asked him how he figured out the Hamato ninpo. 

Maybe I knew about it all along, Casey thinks to himself, the grief as fresh as if he had just stepped out of the apocalypse yesterday.

“The same day Sensei was going to, I was sent here,” he manages hoarsely. 

The turtles’ and April's faces each go carefully blank, one by one.

They hear the pain in his voice.

Unimaginable.

All-encompassing.

An old friend and a new friend all at once, grief is.

“We’ll go from the beginning, then,” Leo speaks up, tone as gentle as down. Break or No Break from each other, Casey can trust that his brother will sense his pain and walk alongside him, no questions asked, no pity, only patient guidance through the dark.

(blue inhales, the slightest tremble in his breath. a sort of bleak acceptance lingers nearby.)

we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. you say the word and we try again another day.

(aquamarine does not startle at the intensity, the conviction in blue. blue looks out for him, and regardless of the green hurtling through his veins, he is thankful for a big brother.)

no. i can do this.

—

(purple explodes into blue’s mind.)

what do you mean, he said no? we can all see from a mile away that he is clearly not capable of this right now. this better not be you feeling responsible for the way things turned out for him.

(blue snaps.)

and what if it is, dee?

(sighing, blue deflates.)

it’s not, i’m pretty sure. but i sure as hell have no idea what to do, and i’m pretty sure raising an obvious alarm isn’t going to help the situation.

(grumbling, purple takes a seat on the ground.)

i wish this wasn’t hurting you as much as it is.

(blue kneels next to purple, the sure quality of a true leader settling in.)

it’s hard to tell the people you love how you really feel, sometimes. i would know. i’m just trying to give the kid a chance.

(huffing a laugh, purple looks over, fond and weary all at once.)

you don’t have to be mr. perfectly large and in charge about all of this. i know junior’s important to you and this can’t be easy.

(blue shuts his eyes—a rush of exhaustion and hurt and gratitude washing over purple like a tidal wave.)

if we didn’t have to worry about the krang too, i'd probably be able to process this more. but…

(purple lays a hand on blue’s shell.)

i just hate that i’m going to have to pick up the pieces when it all goes to shit. because you know this doesn’t end good.

(blue remains silent. the i’m sorry louder than a gunshot.)

(purple exhales slowly.)

but i will. you know i’m with you, always.

(shuddering beneath a deep breath, beneath the weight of so much unsaid, blue nods.)

i know.

—

Casey schools his face into pleasant vacancy as he watches the silent conversation between Leo and Donnie.

It might be a weird little leoanddonnie thing, but…

If it were just Leo, Casey would have no idea. He is a master at hiding a mind-meld, seeming perfectly engaged and focused on the world around him. Casey’s even seen Leo hold an entirely different conversation with one of his brothers at the same time he’s talking to Casey in his head.

But…

It’s Donnie’s face. Beak scrunched imperceptibly; gold eyes slightly unfocused.

(You don’t grow up on a resistance base full of tight-lipped adults without learning how to read their faces.)

He’s gone rigid, arms pin-straight at his sides.

Casey peeks, quick as a mouse, at the green buried beneath the sea of his ninpo. He does not, in fact, wonder about his foolish, wild, desperate plan, locked as it is with a piece of his mind deep down.

(one might wonder based on the amount of times you have visited me that you need something, child outside of time.)

Oh shit, Casey pales.

Green stretches and rumbles and it shifts the very waters of his ninpo, reverberations shooting out every which way. Casey is…pretty sure the empyrean won’t kill him, but even this small movement, this small output of its power reminds him that he is the butterfly caught in the net, and not the other way around.

Splashing some more in the sea of aquamarine, the green continues to do whatever the hell it’s doing, and Casey—the sinking feeling in his stomach alive and well—knows that there is no way the others don’t feel the echoes of this ancient, living force in their own ninpo, the simultaneous joy of unbridled freedom and terror of untamed wildness.

Casey can barely stand to look at his family, his heart is racing so fast. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches the very moment that Mikey straightens, snapping to attention as the smile falls from his face.

Awesome.

Out of everyone, it had to be the mystic badass.

(the orange one possesses a natural talent. i was wondering when he would sense me.)

The youngest turtle cocks his head, as if he heard that, too.

Something ripples across the grass.

Casey’s mind goes blank, terror erasing everything.

Right now, he is the prey and Mikey is the bloodhound on the scent, eyes like orange suns. They scathe everything in their path, and when he figures out what’s Casey is hiding what Casey is doing who Casey has become he will tell the others and they will never forgive—

Casey buries his hands in his cloak to hide their shaking and pulls himself together, refusing to balk beneath the terrible odds.

“Is something there, Mikey?” Raph asks, always in tune with his little brothers, ready to weed out the threat.

Too bad the threat is Casey.

Donnie and Leo are still busy in their conversation, thankfully, and April’s begun to throw tiny pebbles at Donnie’s head, needling away at his patience.

Raph makes sure to tower over both Mikey and Casey, prepared to shield them at any second, and that kind of makes Casey want to shrivel up even more—the pure protectiveness of his oldest brother something he doesn’t deserve, something that almost makes him fess up.

The forest’s clearing settles into focus, too sharp and too bright and too much, the pounding of Casey’s heart fracturing his vision, the red-hot fear of being discovered drawing a sweat to his brow.

You need to hide.

(what was that?)

He bites down on his frustration. 

He will not force the empyrean to bend and move.

not yet.

Trying again, Casey implores the pair of eyes blinking beneath the waves.

Please, they can’t know you’re here.

(and why is that, child? are you not all working towards the same goal? are they not your family?)

Something shrivels in Casey as the tone sharpens, question after question shedding the layers of almost…warmth that had built up in the past days.

They’re my family, yes. But this is…a surprise.

(a surprise.)

Green sounds…skeptical.

Casey has to think think think the time is fading the time is falling the time is—

Orange rays, sharp as a blade, fan out around him as Mikey’s ninpo readies to shred apart the intruder hiding in Casey—the One That Does Not Belong. To anyone else, the severity, the finality, the ferocity would seem ill-fitting to Mikey. He’s the sunshine kid, the baby of the family, always willing to find the good in things.

No, Casey disagrees.

If anything, the kind, downy soft exterior of the guy masks the…creature wearing his scales.

The creatures wearing all of the turtles’ scales.

To be fair, the surviving members of the Hamato Clan are brave and loyal and selfless—Casey trusts them with his life. There is literally nothing they would not do for their family, for those who cannot fight for themselves, for a world that does not think of them.

That being said, the surviving members of the Hamato Clan are also terrifying.

Fanged, ruthless beasts lie in wait behind their glowing eyes and gleaming weapons.

None of the turtles walked away from the invasion without becoming a little monstrous themselves.

Not entirely a bad thing, except for right now.

Right now when Casey is the cuckoo in the nest and the weight of his secrets has never been more spine-breaking.

How has Mikey not found him out yet?

How has Mikey not discovered him?

(tell me again why i should be hiding from such frightening mystic warriors then?)

Casey suppresses a flinch, locking his knees—don’t think about the plan…

You saw Leo earlier—he likes a presentation. I’m hoping that you…could be a gift, a surprise later when things seem dire. You could bring us hope.

(i see. you wish for a grand reveal.)

Yes! Yes, is that alright?

(you are a strange one, child. but i will do as you ask. they will not discover my presence.)

(…yet.)

Just as Mikey closes in on the green twirling around, an orange maw filled with glistening teeth ready to tear, the empyrean vanishes without a trace.

(maybe not…entirely without a trace.)

(in its wake, green left a door cracked.)

(ajar.)

The sea of aquamarine shimmers, menacingly. Casey looks anywhere but Mikey, instead focusing on the wisps of clouds spanning the bright blue skies.

“I guess it was nothing,” Mikey mutters to himself, the disbelief in his tone uncomfortably present. It turns hot and ugly sensations in Casey’s stomach. “I thought I felt a crazy spike of power, but I think we’re good. Leon chose the place well.”

Casey might pass out, dizzy with relief.

The sweat running down his back is so cold it burns.

That was too close of a call, he worries to himself, as the ethereal orange halo around Mikey fades, revealing the artist the visionary the dreamer once again.

let me out.

He is not going to think about how the more he talks to green, the stronger the let me out becomes.

let me OUT—

Casey startles, the sensation strong enough to buckle one of his knees.

Get it together, man.

The twins break up the tensed pause stretching between Casey, Mikey, and Raph as they shove each other, sticking out their tongues and narrowing their eyes with fond annoyance. Something bruised and tender flutters in Casey’s chest at the way Leo’s stripes crinkle as he laughs, and he forces himself to remember it’s not for forever, it’s not for forever, but hearing those words and believing them are two entirely different things.

Where were the days when he would play tag across the city’s rooftops with Leo, cackling and tripping and dodging as his brother would explode out of portals, swiping right at his feet like the sneaky bastard he is?

Where were the days when he would reprogram Donnie’s speakers to start playing aggressively loud George Strait at random times throughout the day, Leo laughing so hard he would cry when Donnie swore (like a literal sailor) as the country music exploded out, startling him from whatever he was doing?

Where were the days when he could have fun and be himself and live with his brothers, where he wasn’t hunted down by this incessant, gnawing pain of missing something that is never coming back?

They’re still there, it’s not for forever, Leo’s voice echoes again.

But isn’t it?

Isn’t the grief that Casey tugs and pulls and bears always going to be with him?

Always going to be there?

he can’t live with it—he has to—he cannot—he must—

His vision distorts, green flickering across the clearing, the turtles and April stretching and warping to the unsteady rhythm of his bleating heart. The trees ringing the glade become an advancing army, ready to close ranks in on Casey and he has to get out he has to get free he has to let his—it has to get out—

let me out—

Standing there, unmoving, Casey digs his feet into the defrosting grass, ignoring the voices in his head arguing asking pleading for him to let a little bit of his power out—just to take the edge off—it has to leave—it has to go somewhere—

Antics fizzling out, Leo’s attention flickers over to Casey, checking up on him in that silent, relieving, stifling, way.

Even through the green eating away at his sight, a strong, gold gaze flashes.

Leo can tell he’s losing it.

(green crawls up aquamarine’s throat, swift and scalding.)

(blue claws away at green, unknowing of the true threat.)

(he carves away just enough.)

Casey looks at Leo and wonders where the familiar scars and the I Know What You Did smirk and the crooked grin went.

Casey looks at Leo and does his best to stop his heart from falling as he is met with a youthful glow, a spirit that has not been crushed by the end of the world—because that kind of spirit did not raise Casey, that kind of spirit did not train Casey, that kind of spirit did not know Casey the way he so desperately wishes.

Casey looks at Leo, and he realizes he’s only looking for Sensei.

(it might not have always been this way between casey and leo but right now it is, and casey does not have the strength to stop thinking this way.)

(casey never stopped to think of the…emotional side effects of carrying the empyrean.)

(then again…has a human ever carried it for this long?)

That’s when he remembers.

When he remembers why he must follow through on his mission, why the secrets are worth the agony of today. They are worth the fracturing mindscape, the cartwheeling regret, the terrifying unpredictability of his ninpo.

Are they? a more sensible part of Casey wonders.

Can it, Jones, a more unrecognizable part of Casey snaps back.

The ocean of his powers trembles.

(aquamarine will crumble to ashes, swept away by the roars of green.)

“Case?” Leo asks, breath fogging in the air.

Yanking himself from the spiraling reverie, Casey plasters a smile on his face, too confident too forced too cheerful. 

If you took a longer look, you’d see the cracks beginning to form. Tiny and dangerous.

(and when a gentle blue hand reaches out, aquamarine shies away.)

Something in Leo smarts—gold shuttering closed, the green of his scales paling.

Casey knows if he lets Leo get too close, it will all come tumbling out, so until…until it is finished…

He jerks a nod.

Donnie might be about to say something, but Leo glares at him, the order stand down painfully obvious. A purple haze swells and subsides in response, but that is the extent of his insubordination. 

The chilled quiet of winter stretches on.

“Can we start now?” Raph asks warily, glancing between everyone, shifting his large form on uncomfortable feet.

“Yes! Let’s do it,” cries Casey, clapping his hands together. The resounding crack makes everyone flinch, echoes spearing off into the trees.

Leo takes a deep breath, rolling his shoulders back, widening his eyes to the heavens.

The sun offers little solace.

“As you know, being a part of the Hamato Clan means you can access the Hamato ninpo, a spiritual essence that, among other things, ultimately allows you to manifest a unique mystic power. After meeting Karai,” Leo pauses, mouth pressed in a white line. His brothers nod respectfully, eyes faraway. “After meeting Karai, we learned that it takes trusting and protecting your family to unlock it—ow!”

April crosses her arms, mimicking Leo’s yelp. 

“Geez—sorry, okay. After meeting Karai and thanks to our wonderful, beautiful, way too good for us sister, April, we were able to unlock our ninpo.”

They exchange quick grins, and it scrapes at Casey’s insides knowing that he is on the outside of that closeness, exiled by his own doing.

But…

It took the turtles trusting one another to unlock their ninpo? What kind of sick joke are Casey’s powers then? He wasn’t trusting anyone—he fell off a roof, and the empyrean had to step in.

Leaning against his staff, Donnie hums—probably in agreement with Casey’s panic.

“That’s why I find it odd that you just…randomly unlocked your mystic powers the other day, Junior.”

let me out—

let me out and show him what talking to us like that brings—

Mouth dry, Casey stares back at him blankly. His brain flits and jumps all over the place, and when it becomes clear that no one else is going to jump to his defense (thanks, guys), Casey prays that his response will slide by the family genius.

He might as well tell as much of the truth as he can.

“Well…I already had known, and maybe was a part of the Hamato ninpo from the Bad Future, but I never fully unlocked it. And I think that going through a time portal kind of…messed with things, so it’s taken me longer to connect. Maybe.”

Casey holds his breath, linking his hands together in front of him. 

“You think?” Donnie asks suspiciously.

let me out—

The same green flames flicker up, scorching Casey’s lungs, clambering for his heart, his mind. But instead of the immense sadness, the heaviness of loss, there is only anger.

That can’t be good, Casey worries, the feeling of everything snowballing out of control too apparent.

(It is becoming less of a case of ignoring the let me out.

And more of a containment situation.)

Without thinking, Casey replies—almost brusquely, “It doesn’t really seem like there’s an exact science to all of this."

Why did I say that, why did I have to bring up science—

Donnie squints, turning his head ever so slightly so that one gold eye beats down on him.

“There are scrolls, if you’re looking for a preciseness you feel is lacking here,” he states, that monotone of his taking on a sharper edge. Jutting out his chin stubbornly, he melts into a demeanor that Uncle Tello would often adopt when he was upset with new recruits, the I Am About To Put You In Your Place You Fool state, as Sensei so lovingly dubbed it.

(this would have made aquamarine sad in any other situation. right now? it only feeds the growing fire.)

“Have you read them?” Casey asks, raising his eyebrows, unable to stop the building frustration with his brother. Donnie has…always been a little more callous, but he really thought they’d gotten past a lot of this.

Ire flashes; Donnie’s beak wrinkles. Casey catches a mere glimpse of a fang.

“No, but—”

“Wow. Okay—my guys—save this for sparring. Leon, would you like to continue?” Mikey—or rather, Dr. Delicate Touch concludes, soundly clapping his hands together to snap Casey and Donnie out of the increasing tension of the moment.

Whatever is screaming inside of Casey is mirrored in Donnie, teeth and claws retracting ever so slightly as they both acknowledge Mikey, deflating—only a little.

Leo, heroically, ignores this. Somewhere, during Casey’s…spat? moment? with Donnie, clear-cut shoulders and an assessing gaze took him over, as he begins to prowl around the team, hands linked behind his shell.

Turning to Casey, Leo stares down at him.

No joking familiarity, easy smiles, gentle fondness remain.

(it seems as though leo finally learned his lesson as he watched donnie and casey size one another up.)

(this will require a closed fist.)

Posture ramrod straight, Casey stands at the ready.

“Donnie will begin. Pay attention,” he states clearly—a leader preparing for battle.

(“pay attention!” sensei barks—a leader preparing to storm the krang shredding their base apart.)

A mask, fine and porcelain, has settled over Leo’s face, blank and unfeeling.

Casey wonders if he’s got the same one on.

The memory overlaps Leo—his frame growing and shrinking simultaneously.

(green fills the cracks in casey’s mask.)

Sending an edged smile at Casey, Donnie extends his arms out sideways. A myriad of artillery and ballistics and weaponry fan out like angular wings, proud purple sweeping into the night. “As you know, Junior, my powers chose to manifest in weapons generation.”

(“as you know, junior, my powers chose to manifest in weapons generations,” uncle tello boasts, blowing off phantom steam from a pair of pistols.)

He levels a look at Casey, saying nothing.

Something in the contact between the two says—(this is what stands behind blue.)

Casey would never hurt Leo.

That he knows to be true.

(green presses outwards, the cracks in casey’s mask growing.) 

“Seems pretty bold of the Hamato Clan to give those powers to the guy two steps away from committing a war crime at all times,” April observers while laughing, either unaware of the strain between Donnie and Casey, or unwilling to engage with it.

Flicking her scarf out of the way, she waltzes forward, swinging that blasted green bat.

(green pulls aquamarine down down down and away from the bat because it remembers it feels the sting of the girl the girl with glasses the girl who made it burn—)

Casey stumbles. Barely.

Focus, he yells at his bucking powers, looping the leash once, twice. Don’t give it up now.

As she flips the bat, it comes alight under April’s touch. Flames burn but do not destroy the wood, and though Casey is caught in a haze of fear, thick as syrup (and not his own), a kernel of curiosity becomes apparent.

Bright and sweet, Casey latches on to the spark—the part of him (the part of him) that has always wondered if April, also not a Hamato in the sense the turtles are, has ever felt that same…separation Casey sometimes feels looking into his ninpo?

(a soft evergreen, fresh from the first peeks of springtime, smiles.)

yeah, jones. it gets better.

Shocked, Casey shoots her a grateful look. Though brief and not spoken aloud, April’s kindness glows—glows in Casey.

And it triggers something.

Forgetting his iron grip on the voice, he allows himself to think of a world like that, peaceful and difficult but worth it and not lonely.

Maybe things will get better, maybe he will be okay—

no.

no.

let me out.

let me out now.

The ear-splitting barrage of hate and might and guilt scrambles Casey’s brain, wracking his body with an unearthly pain.

He swallows a gasp and buckles down on the fire raging in his veins, using every ounce of fight through the pain and keep on going jones and you are stronger than this he heard in the apocalypse day after day.

Casey survived the apocalypse, he survived his family dying, he’s survived the Krang three times now, and he will be okay.

(did he survive those things?)

Lost, adrift, caught in the spiraling vortex of Now and Then, Casey gazes silently at April as she enters the middle of clearing.

“If you would do the honors of telling us your powers, madam,” Donnie bows, hand gesturing forward in a courtly manner.

“I’m strong as hell with this thing,” April flips the bat with one hand. “Boys?”

Leo flings a staggering number of pinecones far into the air, mere pinpricks against the pale sky.

April kicks up a few stones with her foot—lightning fast—and cracks countless swings of her bat, shooting the rocks off like firecrackers, nailing each and every cone out of the air before they even come close to landing. 

She sketches a bow, tucking her bat away, leaving the center of their circle.

“And I never miss,” April croons over her shoulder, feline grin stretching as Donnie whistles.

(“and i never miss,” commander o’neil croons over her shoulder, fierce and wild grin shining. krang hounds lay in pieces at her feet.)

Leo inclines his head appreciatively, the ghost of a smile a white slash on his face.

(green seizes and bleeds, the cracks in casey’s masks linking together.)

Raph exhales as Leo motions to him, and a dozen copies of himself form a ring around all of them, each with their own snaggletooth glinting in the moonlight. At the same time, he is bathed in red light, swallowed by the larger projection of himself, towering against the treeline. 

“Mine focus mainly on duplicating myself—I’m not sure how many copies I can make, but so far, I only begin to feel strained around twenty. I can also do all this,” he waves a massive hand around his avatar, ripping a whole-ass tree from the ground. “I call it my Power Jutsu.”

Everyone cringes at the sound of the tree trunk crashing into the forest further away.

Casey hopes Todd wasn’t in office.

Leo steps out of sight and reappears with an arm slung around Donnie’s shoulders, eyes crinkling at how his twin flinches.

“I used to only be able to make portals and teleport with my swords…but ever since the Krang…” he lifts up two hands wreathed in blue. “Things are a little different.”

He snaps a finger and Donnie disappears, flashing back into existence atop Raph’s shell, clinging on for dear life. At the same time, Leo tosses a katana to Raph, white steel cartwheeling through the air. As Raph catches it, they switch places, each curtsying to one another.

“The same idea remains,” Leo finishes indifferently, brushing past Casey.

(Maybe that was it, Casey will later wonder.

What made him decide.

What made him decide to follow through on his plan, despite all of his last-minute misgivings and apprehensions.

The foreign aloofness from Leo. Not burning anger, not freezing rage.

Nothing.

Maybe that was what made him snap.

What made the mask he’d been wearing break into pieces.

Or maybe Casey was just tired and unable to regulate his emotions—unable to see the way Leo wept internally, because chances are, Leo probably knew the terrible choice Casey was about to make.

But Casey was exhausted from the constant, inescapable weight of his grief.

He was only sixteen.

No sixteen-year-olds imagine losing their family.

Not really.

Even in the apocalypse.)

The voice whispering let me out slinks by, unaware of the inexplicable change that had overtaken him.

Casey snatches the voice and all it promises.

His ninpo like a viper; its strike a blur.

The voice yelps—startled by his savagery, but only for a moment.

Smiling wickedly at the barbed claws and callous intent, the voice sinks beneath the fiery waves of his ninpo, silencing each and every last bit of what will leo think, how could i do this to my family, and am i forsaking my second chance?

His powers ripple and swell, and sing back to him—no. you are tired of losing and you can do something about it.

Casey welcomes the knife of his vision, the intoxicating rush of energy, the flash of heat up his spine. For a brief moment—a brief eternity?—he cannot feel the buttery sun, the crisp air. There is only nothing, soothing, quiet, peaceful nothing.

(timeless child, i fear my presence is too much for you.)

…

At last, it is Mikey’s turn to speak up. Separated from his body, Casey watches on—unaffected and still and endless.

His ninpo, warped and hissing, a sea serpent rising from the depths, arches over the orange sunburst radiating around Mikey.

“I’m guessing you probably understand my powers the best,” the youngest turtle begins carefully, blue eyes thoughtful.

(master michelangelo winks at him before shattering into thousands of pieces.)

The memory comes even with the voice’s promises—stabbing right at Casey’s stupid, weak heart.

He will continue. He must continue.

Something warm trickles in his nose.

Casey—or…not Casey replies hoarsely, “Yeah. They’re a wonder of their own.”

Mikey places a small hand on his shoulder, searching for something Casey knows not.

The roiling sea of aquamarine and green rears at the touch, a tsunami rushing toward orange with no signs of stopping.

“Do you think you could show me, anyway? Maybe a portal?” he asks, steadier this time around.

None of the turtles realize, yet.

(the sea of aquamarine shudders and trembles, green threading through the waves, dark and dangerous fins cresting.)

Hands lifted to the sky, Mikey’s eyes fall shut and a tiny, secret smile graces his face as he summons the powers that changed this family’s world. Orange streaks gather like ribbons around him, a glowing circle high above them all.

Plunging into his ninpo, Casey blinks open to that shimmering film, revealing Mikey’s actions on the only plane that matters now—the mystic one.

(child? are you…still there?)

no.

And the second the orange portal reaches its zenith, strength ebbing and flowing, Casey lashes out two-fold.

Once: At the green slumbering in his veins, siphoning its bottomless power all at once.

Twice: At sunny and gentle orange, dancing around in the light without the slightest knowledge of the threat closing in.

(how dare you betray me—i thought you were different—)

Screaming into his mind, Casey takes the golden portal, shimmering and spitting sparks into the air, and begins to channel his heartsickness toward a reality where he doesn’t have to feel that way anymore.

Towards a reality where Sensei could be here to fix it all.

despair and rage and power—i am flying between worlds i am lost forever i am holding bridges in my hands i no longer have an end—

An orange wind spears at him directly, confused and hurt, but Casey flings out a hand and Mikey is thrown by an invisible force, crashing into a tree with a resounding thump.

A symphony of cries and yells crescendos around him, and all Casey can do is grit his teeth at the nosebleed coming in full force and tear continue to tear the portal through time—not space.

Find Sensei find Sensei find Sensei—

His hands crack and split, gold lining his skin like a living flame, but Casey can’t feel it, he cannot feel anything but the maddening, glorious, terrifying euphoria of the empyrean calling higher and further.

give me more i need more we are almost there—

“Casey—Casey what are you doing?!”

nothing.

“Casey!”

stop.

“Junior—what the hell?!”

ugh.

“Case! Stop, please!”

…

There is no sea of aquamarine anymore. It has burned away, flames fanning out, eating away at any last traces of what once flowed with a great and terrible beauty.

Only fire.

Fire and ash and smoke.

I can’t.

Not now.

—

Leo…hoped he would not have to do this.

But he knows what today is.

And watching Casey unleash himself like an unholy demon on his baby brother, Leo prays that it will be enough.

—

“Is it because today was the day that Sensei died?”

Casey freezes, hands paused in the air.

What?

A year…since Sensei—

Since—

Krang hounds tearing through the last of the resistance, Master Michelangelo shattering into a million, burning pieces, Sensei hurling him through the portal, Sensei being reduced to a pile of ashes, a pile of nothing after years and years and years of fighting and brawling and crying and losing and AND—

His breath comes out in short, constricted pants, the clearing swirls.

He thinks he hears Raph curse, “Shit.”

Casey puts his face in his hands, trembling uncontrollably, and lets go. He forgets all about the portal back to Sensei, the empyrean, the voices in his head calling for retribution of any kind.

He hadn’t thought about it being a year since Sensei’s death, since he lost the last thing he could hold on to—how could he have been so narrow-minded, self-focused when the only date he should ever think about has already passed—

“Casey—”

(red and blue and orange and purple circle aquamarine too fast too soon, aware of the storm building, cautious and angry and guilty and sorrowful.)

Casey just wants it to stop.

let me out—

(i couldn’t remember sensei my old life i forgot about them, i failed him, i don’t deserve this—i don’t deserve a new family i deserve nothing—)

He buckles down and yanks his ninpo away from the growing mass the turtles, twisting and fighting this way and that, forcing it down down down. Getting it away from Raph and Mikey is easier, he simply pulls himself away, ties unfurling like a sail; with Donnie, it grows more difficult—but in the end, he kicks away purple and its enraged cry. Green flames crackle and burn, severing the links permanently, eagerly.

It is almost impossible with Leo.

let me out—

(it occurs to casey then, that it’s not some random force saying it.)

(the voice saying let me out is casey.)

He tugs and wrenches himself away from the blue force, but it won’t budge.

(blue screams in his mind.)

casey! don’t do this!

Watch me, a part of him snarls, half-crazed with grief and who-knows-what.

let me—

Fine.

Wrapping green around himself, plunging into its madness without the slightest thought, Casey yanks the empyrean up and draws out a blade, final and heavy and costly.

With all the finesse of a cracked-out butcher, he slices through his link (his connection his anchor his brother) with a dull-edged knife, love and recognition and hope and understanding giving way, remainders floating like torn strands of gossamer in the wind.

(as it fades, blue shrieks as though set on fire, heartbroken and yet still reaching for him.)

He turns away.

(it is only a sea of greens and blues that remains. not sparkling and effervescent, but murky, dark, and endless.)

All I am is grief.

The firestorm of green and aquamarine rages on, hissing as it makes contact with what’s left of his Hamato ninpo, roiling and raging and crying out.

A wintry wind bites at his skin; all too cold, all too painful.

Green calls out from where it is pinned beneath his thumb.

(is this how you treat second chances, timeless one?)

Casey’s too lost to care.

Lost in the wrongness of it all, lost in the five phantom limbs swirling around him—his ninpo is stinging, raw, aching.

It searches back and forth, for a connection to any Hamato—anything to stop the staggering pain, the woozy haze cast over his vision, the realization that there’s nothing beneath his feet but the infinite void he always imagined without Sensei.

Casey’s head reels and aches and wails—he needs to sit down, he needs to keep going, he needs to say sorry, he needs to scream and scream and scream.

All I have is grief.

He fights through the nausea, the voices in his head begging stop this—go back, they are your family. The edges of the clearing gradually sharpen, the turtles swimming into view, albeit surrounded by a haze of green, unnatural and bright. Raph’s got one of his red auras building up; Mikey’s gilded chains circling around his feet, snakelike. The turtles are no longer clamoring voices in his mind, no. That is long gone, but physically present, angry and shocked and very much so looking for answers that Casey does not have and cannot give.

“What the hell, Junior? Have you lost your mind?” exclaims Donnie, pushing his way to the front of the turtles. Wounded pride and utter surprise fight for control across his face, contorting his snout, contracting his pupils.

All Casey sees through his jagged, torn ninpo is a threat threat threat.

“You wanna go, Donnie? I know you’ve been wanting that all day. Let’s have at it, then!” Casey yells, spreading his arms out, aquamarine gathering at his fingertips.

Donnie hisses and crouches down, gold eyes bleeding into purple.

Leo bursts through, frantically pushing his siblings away, his markings fluttering and alive—he’s probably trying to suppress his powers to try and protect me still, Casey thinks, thoughts fragmented. 

But he can’t know, not really. He isn’t connected to him anymore.

His ninpo—his not-ninpo swirls around him, curling protectively, and at least he’s not alone—fully.

But.

The silence…is louder than he would have expected.

He should feel embarrassed about this, right? About his plan being exposed? About the total failure?

No.

He doesn’t.

There is nothing.

Only fire and ashes and smoke.

Approaching Casey much like one would a wild animal, Leo holds his hands out, cautious and slow and careful.

“Casey—please, I’m sorry that I said I should stay away, but our family—”

“Ugh Leo, our family this and our family that. Haven’t you stopped to consider that we’re not family?”

Leo flinches, eyes wide and tear-filled.

“I know it’s the anniversary of your Sensei’s de—”

(he cannot think about sensei right now, and he cannot bear for anyone else to bring up his failure to remember.)

“Be quiet,” Casey snarls, his not-ninpo looming like a great tsunami, in those precious few moments before the water levels a city. Where that mountain of waves and froth and fury looks and looks and looks, callous and unfeeling and fathomless. 

“Be quiet you miserable pest,” he snaps, the savage and hurtful words arising from a place deep within the green forking down his veins like lightning, a place deep within the green that is dark and cold and remembers what it is to be imprisoned.

A place deep within the green that lingers in blue.

Leo goes white.

Donnie is livid, nothing but murder in his eyes.

“Why do you think I tried to open that portal—why I hid the empyrean from you guys? It’s not because you are my family—it’s because you are the stand-ins,” he pants harshly, fists opening and closing. 

His headache threatens to split his skull, not-ninpo beating pain and chaos through his veins.

He is blazing, he is a wildfire, and if he’s already burning, then might as well burn some others too.

“My family is gone—they are dust on the wind in a world that doesn’t even exist anymore. You think I want to be a part of your family? Your dysfunctional, idiotic group of clowns that let the Krang in? Stop trying to take care of me—we all know it’s just a power trip for your bruised ego.”

Somewhere, far away, someone gasps.

Turning to the side, eyes falling shut, Casey spits out the last of his venom.

“You may have won, Leo. But I lost. I lost everything.”

“You don’t mean that—”

“I do.”

His tsunami of hurt and loneliness crashes; the bright waves of flame recede, and only Leo’s face, devastated, remains. The migraine in his head lessens, as if it too is surprised. Casey is so caught up in the unending blur of it all that he misses the strangled noise shattering out of Leo.

Donnie, the fiercer of the twins, the scrappy one, the deep shadow to Leo’s burning light, decides he has enough with Casey’s unbelievable outburst.

He leaps between the two—teeth pulled back in an animalistic snarl, pure threat glittering in his eyes.

Donnie releases part of that violet beast that prowls beneath his skin.

It says you will come no closer, dark as the night sky, glittering and dangerous.

“That’s enough,” he growls, backing away as he pushes Leo behind him. “Leo might have an endless supply of chances for you, but I do not. Back off, now.”

It is clear, even then. 

How could they all be family? 

Leo’s siblings certainly understand that it is Casey who is the outsider.

Unwilling to call a spade a spade, Leo reaches around Donnie for him, voice breaking—filled with pain and tears, dull gold begging i can still fix this.

Casey will incinerate, he will crumble into a smoldering pile of nothingness if he does not let the green out, if he does not do something—

“No, Don—stop, please Casey! I know this isn’t you—”

“Stay away from me,” Casey yells, eyes squeezing shut, hands flung outwards.

He imagines green fire spewing from his mouth.

Through the roaring in his ears, he almost makes out a small yelp, a thump, and several Leo’s! rising like a frightened chorus.

Good, something toothed and furious and ruthless thinks, as he watches Leo stare back at him from the ground, where a flood of Casey’s power threw him to the ground. Donnie crouches at his side, seething—a living mirror of the violent storm raging in Casey.

All around Casey is an extending blast-site of power, the grass the rocks the earth flying out and away from him—all of it edged with the green fire Casey was stupid enough to think he could keep inside of him.

He even leveled a few of the towering oak trees, their trunks groaning and creaking as they fall away. The turtles and April slowly get back up from their crouched positions, having shielded themselves from the unstable explosion.

They blink at him with open mouths, a myriad of expressions—shock and horror and guilt and worry.

But above all, pain.

Pain at the corners of Leo’s mouth, tucked at the edges of his gaze, lining his shaking body.

Raw, unfettered, as if Casey’s words sliced him to the bone.

(he has never seen leo like this. not even when raph was taken.)

Casey stares and stares and stares, green flames dying, their imprint a brand on his soul.

Good.

Now he knows.

Two, great red hands, tinged with disappointment push everyone back—Casey on one side, everyone else on the other.

It's hard not to see it as a direct alienation of himself.

(but that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it, child?)

“Just leave me alone,” he grumbles—unsure of who he’s speaking to as he stalks away, disappearing into the ruined edges of the forest.

No one tries to stop him.

~

The let me out was never another being inside him.

The let me out was Casey, the broken and despairing and desperate parts of him warped beyond belief by the empyrean.

He should have known.

Empyrean bends itself to the bearer and someone like Casey, blinded by his refusal to let go took in that ancient power and instead of it brining about some miracle, it amplified the ugliest parts of his soul.

Gone are his powers, or the sham of them, the skating and the ice mere artifices of things he can never have.

Worst of all, he lost his family in the process.

(was it worth it, child outside of time?)

(were the pain and the heartbreak and the seconds of false relief worth it?)

Casey ignores the green, chanting away to himself.

“All I am is grief. All I have is grief.”

All I am is grief. All I have is grief.

All I am—

—

Everyone blinks in shock as Casey storms away, the forest caught in a pregnant pause.

Raph guides Leo to a fallen tree, away from the epicenter of chaos. If Leo weren’t so shaken, he’d be more irritated by the way everyone is walking on eggshells, worried they might send him over the edge as well.

For now though, he's glad his family understands.

“Oh my gosh,” Leo whimpers, sinking onto the tree trunk. “Oh my gosh.”

That was…horrible. That was an utter disaster. Even when he tried reaching down the mind-meld—the torrential downpour of fire and brimstone coming from the kid could be felt from miles away.

face smeared with scarlet, the nosebleed amplifying the destructive, manic breakdown, casey yells, eyes screwed shut.

The way Casey ripped their link, all of their links, to shreds.

Mikey still looks like he has a splitting headache.

be quiet you miserable pest—

Leo lurches forward.

The dragon at his back murmurs.

A hot rush of shame sears through his insides—he shouldn’t have said what he said, but what was he supposed to do? The kid was…I’m going to throw up—the kid was trying to rip a portal open back to his Sensei?

Using empyrean and pizza-supreme-in-the-sky knows what else?

Had he been hiding this since the fight with the Sister?

I should have known I should have known I should have known—

How did he ever think he could be a brother to this apocalypse kid?

Leo’s beak aches from where Casey’s ninpo sucker-punched him. He doesn’t blame the kid—if anyone knows about out-of-control mystic bursts, it’d be Leo. 

Still. Damn.

His face.

He’s the prettiest out of all of them for a reason.

Donnie stands before him, a little too close—a helicopter twin if that exists.

(purple flies down the bridge between their minds, steady and clear-eyed, exactly what blue needs.)

(a murderous calm paces around purple.)

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Dee’s quiet.

Too quiet.

Leo was there—he heard the final warning promised in Donnie’s voice.

He sighs.

Leo cannot say he wasn’t grateful for the way his twin stood up for him, the way he pushed through his own pain unlike Leo.

(blue looks up from the shock and the pain and the questions of wheredidigowrong.)

“Yes.”

His twin searches his eyes, a strange sensation when they match so well—looking for something, anything that he can try to fix. It’s sweet, really. Leo might annoy the shit out of Donnie, he might disrupt his sacred quiet time, he might make fun of his forehead and nerdy goggles, but his older brother will always always always be there for him, ready to beat the hell out of anything plaguing Leo.

(blue whispers—it is the creaking of an old forest, the hissing of a foggy lake.)

i’m okay, dee. for real. 

“Then what were you thinking you dumb-dumb?” he snarls.

“What?? Why are you on my case? I feel responsible for this whole thing, but usually I can get through to him—”

“Was that before or after you got smacked the face by literal empyrean?” Donnie flips, arms waving in the air. “He was clearly deranged and then you throw gasoline on the fire? He could have killed you Leo. Couldn’t you see it in his eyes?”

Leo flinches—remembering the way green swallowed up the dark eyes he’d come to know so well.

“I, I just thought if I could get to him, maybe he’d stop it—”

Donnie sags onto the trunk next to him, wrapping an arm around him. Through the film of his tears, Leo can see a blue tail, sparkling scales shooting straight for his twin.

“He…he wasn’t in a place where talking would have been able to change things.”

Mikey sits at his feet, April curling around him.

“I know you said that to distract him, and save me, Leo. Don’t let Dee bully you too much,” he coos, his sunshine a balm to Leo’s pain.

“We love you, Leo baby—we’re here for you,” April adds, brushing away one of his tears.

Donnie places a hand on his shoulder, gaze softening. He begins, sincerely, “Nardo? Aside from the unbelievably stupid way you handled that last part, don’t blame yourself for Casey’s actions. How could we have known that he would keep the empyrean—that he would try something as crazy as that? He was sad, and the empyrean warped it. Changed his feelings and brought him to a place that,” Donnie inhales, calming himself. “A place that I don’t believe he ever intended to get to. That doesn’t excuse his actions, but they weren’t out of ill will. Honestly it sounds like someone else I know to plunge headfirst into a bad mystic plan.”

Raph elbows Donnie, hard. He almost falls off the trunk.

Leo cracks a teary smile, seeing the lengths to which Donnie is going to make him feel better. To try and show him that Casey might be gone now, but the kid Leo came to love isn’t gone. If anything, he pulled a Leo.

“We always knew something was coming down the line. Stirring up old memories and linking the good ol’ Hamato’s together? Casey had a Moment, but you’re a good guy, Nardo. And a better brother. Things will…work out. After I kill the kid.”

Everyone glares at Donnie.

“Kidding.”

(Leo isn’t sure if he’s kidding.)

Purple glows, lining his body in a fuzzy haze, seeping into Leo. It brings strength, a resolve that Leo does not have now.

But, if Donnie believes in him, then things can’t be so bad.

(edges crinkling with gratitude, blue shoots thanks over to purple.)

don’t be too hard on the kid.

(purple hesitates.)

leo. i—

he is—was—is my brother too. but. i let him in and he hurt you. i should’ve known, i should’ve been more careful—and you—

(bowed beneath the weight of sorrow, blue links with purple.)

don’t put that on yourself either, don. if i can’t, you can’t.

Back in the real world, Donnie tightens an arm around Leo, trembling.

Mikey butts in, waving a hand as if to dispel their mental conversation.

“The more we dove into ninpo and Hamato stuff, the more Casey would tense up or get all jittery. I think doing that brought up too many memories, too many things he’s lost. You were doing your best, but…some things never heal, I guess,” he sadly notes, attune to a frequency the rest of them simply weren’t.

“Honestly, I wasn’t really here for a lot of this—thank you college. That being said, you did a great job Leo, and I agree with Angie. Grief and PTSD aren't things that a couple of turtles guys in an abandoned subway are going to be able to get rid of. Not to enforce a glass ceiling or anything,” April pipes in, pressing her lips together.

Raph chuckles lightly, sitting down and leaning against the tree.

“What’s so funny?” Leo whirls on him, frustration spiking out of nowhere. Or perhaps, not nowhere—merely a place simmering beneath the surface, barely soothed by his twin. Now stretched across his arm, Leo's rewarded with a front row seat of the dragon's response to his irritation—its tail flicking back and forth, scales catching the light.

Doesn’t Raph understand what just happened?? That was a total shitshow!

“You, knucklehead. You’re acting like that’s the first time a child has yelled at their parent, or older brother, or whatever important person in their life,” his big brother rolls his eyes, casting a knowing look over at him.

Leo’s ninpo churns, as if it too agrees with Raph.

“But, but those things he said—” he cuts himself off, one terrible realization dawning, bright and cold and heartless. He looks at Raph, horrified. Oh sweet pizza-supreme-in-the-sky. “Is that how I talked to you?”

A twist of a smile stretches across Raph’s face, knowing and sad. It’s everything Leo feared, everything he used to spend hours repenting for, everything he has done his best to stop and move on from.

“He’s angry and hurting, and said those things because of how close you are. He knows he can pull something like that because at the end of the day, it won’t scare you off. He knows you love him, deep down.”

Leo stares open-mouthed at him. It’s stupid how much sense his older bother is making.

(red hums. it feels like a hand, gentle and kind, rests on the curve of blue’s cheek.)

and it will be difficult, lee. it is hard to separate knowing that he did not mean it, and hurting from the sting of his words. be gentle with yourself. it is not wrong to feel hurt.

(blue twines their colors.)

Curling atop Raph’s shell, Mikey chirps—distressed and high-pitched. Of everyone, he is the quickest to return to that not-language, that way of communicating that goes beyond speaking and reaches into a secret, innate well only the four of them understand.

“What about our ninpo? He’s totally severed himself.”

(blue faintly remembers a high-pitched shrieking sound, a white-hot flash of agony. this is not being shoved into a box by those pink invaders, this is being left behind, being thrown off a cliff, cast away, discarded on purpose on purpose on purpose.)

“I mean, the kid figured out how to join in the first place, so I’m sure he’ll come back around.”

“You’re acting remarkably sane about all of this, Raphael,” Donnie observes, narrowing his eyes. Leo thinks he feels a metal claw brush ever so slightly atop his head. “Might I ask, why?”

“Raph is the oldest of four rowdy, messy, hectic, ninja mutant turtles. Raph has watched a set of demon armor resurrect itself, been possessed by an alien race—Raph knows how to keep it together.”

“As the oldest of all of you, I resent that statement,” April sniffs snobbishly, shrieking when Raph messes with her hair in retaliation.

Long ago, Leo’s temper would have boiled over and spilled onto his brothers and sister like a scathing blow at those words. Now, after months of healing from trauma and self-hatred and learning to communicate, he sees the shining thread of truth in Raph’s steady voice.

Leo breathes and does his best to let go. 

He grabs on and allows it to guide him to the surface.

“What would I do without you Raphie?” he grins, a croon of a smile.

“Probably act like you’re the only person in the world who’s had to deal with a difficult child,” he responds sagely, trapping Leo in a squawking headlock.

They laugh, though one of their own is gone, alone. It is a strained feeling, building up in the corners of the room, the spaces between heartbeats.

Donnie’s got a lock on the kid already, muttering to himself as he looks into his arm-piece. April braids his mask tails, the way Leo always loved as a child, rhythmic and soft movements lulling him. Mikey is weaving a weather spell to try and stave the frigid bite of the air off, and Raph watches over them all.

And Leo.

Leo…

Leo worries, snickers quieting in the passing seconds. He should go and ask if Casey wants to join—

Casey.

What if—what if Casey never comes back, what if Leo pushed too hard, Leo should have never pushed the kid into the ninpo practice, never should have assumed he would be enough for Casey, never should have said what he said to the kid—

How did the kid keep this massive secret so well, why didn't he feel like he could tell Leo, was everything they went through together a lie—

What is he going to do about the Krang and the yokai gathering in the Hidden City to help them—how is he going to pull it together when nothing makes sense and this day has shredded his ninpo beyond belief—

His heart beats in his throat, blood thundering in his ears—he just wanted to be there for him, there for the kid whose entire upended life is somehow his own fault.

No, a part of him says. I will not think like this. These thoughts tear down. My family builds up.

But, is that really what Raph went through constantly? What I did do him? another part whispers, overwhelmed with the sudden, unwanted experience in his older brother’s shoes.

It’s too much, trying to power through the warring sides of himself, all clamoring for attention.

i cannot do this alone i cannot do this alone i cannot do this alone—

Leo is still chanting that when he turns to Raph and flings open his arms, desperate for the way his older brother blocks out the world, his thoughts, and every last little thing that threatens to drag him under.

—

Raph feels the waterworks before he sees them.

Leo turns to him, gold eyes terribly large and filled with tears, mouth wobbling uncontrollably. A myriad of emotions flutter across his face—helplessness, fear, betrayal, fury, lit by the shining sun, crystal clear in the bright day. The dragon curls around his collarbones, body disappearing behind him, its eyes blinking at Raph asking for help.

Raph knows exactly what Leo's thinking, because although they only spoke of it briefly, he knows its gnawing on his brother’s insides, hitting a nerve that goes dark some days, and others becomes so bright it could power a city.

Like a child, like it hasn’t been ten years since he's done so, Leo reaches his arms up toward Raph. For less than a heartbeat, Raph pauses, and wonders what to do—if he should keep comforting or something else.

But his younger self, the one who would have done anything for someone to just hold him when things got hard (the very one who was held by their father on those days defeat was bitter and strong), wins.

Raph bends down to encircle his younger brother. There are many things he can no longer protect Leo from—aliens and demons—but there is one thing he can help with, and it’s reminding his little brother that he doesn’t have to fight this alone.

(raph curls into the smallest ball he can.

he still takes up his entire bed.

they just got back from a failed mission—bruised and singed. halfway through, rampant miscommunication finally led to raph losing his temper.

leo kept conveniently forgetting to loop the rest of the team into his plan.

mikey and donnie kept running into one another, mystic weapons tangling and causing explosions of their own—raph more than once completely missing the spot they were trying to lure the foot clan into.

leo took it as a personal attack on everything he held dear—as he always does, and his silver tongue lashed out, disrupting everything, causing chaos.

raph loves leo, but sometimes the little shit makes him see red.

and not the good kind.

trying to ground himself, raph traces the curving lines of his tunneled room, imaging his heartbeat slowing as it crests.

a sound, whispering and hushed, sweeps past his doorway.

“my son, may i come in?”

he exhales in relief. it’s dad, his heart sings.

raph hums his permission, near silent, and a few soft footfalls brings a weight, dipping the mattress ever so slightly.

“what is the matter, red?”

“we flopped and the foot clan got away, but that wasn’t the worst of it. leo was furious and said—said…” tears well in his eyes, an awful churning in his stomach. “he said, ‘what kind of brother are you?’ i was just trying to get the mad dogs back into shape.”

“raphael. perhaps it is not you he is angry at, but rather you drew too close to a nerve. he lashed out.”

leo's bared teeth, body tight as a wire, flashes across his vision.

“but he never gets like that with donnie or mikey! what am i supposed to do?”

raph wants to break down and cry, sink to the very center of the earth and never try ever again. so many days seem like uphill battles with leo—nothing he says gets through to him. it is only anger and moodiness and arrogance.

his dad sighs, stroking his beard contemplatively.

“that’s the burden you will always carry as the oldest. you are his big brother, his hero. he looks up to you, and when he thinks he’s disappointed you, well…how do you feel when you’ve disappointed me?”

raph cringes, thinking of the tired eyes, the slumped shoulders, the defeated sound of his father in those moments.

his dad smiles anyway—a small, resilient thing, one that says i have walked this path myself and it did not break me.

“you see, raphael? blue does not hate you. he hates that he lets you down. but you and i know more than anything, blue keeps his cards close. do not be discouraged. keep reaching out.”

“thanks dad,” he croaks, closing his eyes as his father gently places a clawed hand on his head.

“you are welcome, red.”

…

leo finds raph later, eyes round and upset and so very sorry.

“i’m so—i’m sorry raphie,” he cries into his hands, shoulders shaking uncontrollably. “i didn’t mean any of it! i was angry and i never should have said those things. i was wrong and i’m sorry.”

“lee, raph forgives you. raph thinks you’re a real piece of work sometimes but he forgives you. he is your big brother and loves you more than anything in the whole world.”

and this is how it goes in a family.

they get on each other’s nerves and say terrible things to each other and they realize they’re wrong and apologize and fix things, because living in close quarters with siblings is difficult and wonderful and irritating and confusing and fun. they do this dance for the big things and the little things and everything in between, and raph learns every time how to be a little more patient, a little more compassionate, and a little bit of a better brother.)

Leo—clever and loyal, braver than anyone Raph knows—casts a large shadow, his loud laugh and stupid jokes and unwillingness to do anything half-hearted.

(Raph will never forget that day in the Battle Nexus. He never outright underestimated his badass little brother, but…what Leo did, what he said? On that day, every single one of Raph’s suspicions of the person Leo could be, of who Leo is were confirmed. It was a good day.)

But Leo—sensitive and perceptive, Mr. I Wear My Heart On My Sleeve But Don’t Point It Out—sometimes just needs a hug too.

Raph won't lie to himself, the rage abs might that Casey wielded against Leo made him see white, but that isn't the whole story. The whole story began long time ago, when the kid's world came crashing down. When a kid thought he could pull off some crazy plan. (When a kid, so different from Leo and so achingly the same, tried to carry too much weight.)

Raph will probably just have to give Casey a lecture. It's Donnie he's more worried about.

The dragon snuffles against him, soothed into sleep. Everywhere the blue scales brush against his own, Raph feels tiny sparks, bits of lightning—not painful, but alive. Kernels of Leo and his spirit, that part of him that will always get back up.

“It will be alright, Leo,” Raph sighs onto his brother’s head, heart breaking for him.

“How do you know?” Leo warbles, voice muffled by his plastron.

“Because big brothers just do,” he replies, a careful combination of finality and gentleness.

Their whole family, sans Casey, gathers around in the open, sunny clearing, forming the world’s first nature turtle pile, or whatever Mikey’s calling it.

It will be alright, Raph swears to himself, love for his brother, his fighter, his Fearless blue swelling. If anyone deserves that, it’s Leo.

Chapter Text

Tears long dry, Leo looks up and winces at how the sun’s arc now falls just beneath the trees. Donnie scans the weariness of his face, the softened lines of grief, the echoes behind his eyes that had not been there this morning.

“It’s getting late,” his twin murmurs pensively, the gears of his mind already at an inconceivable speed.

On Donnie’s left, April shoots to her feet like a bullet, a pray tell expression on display.

“Late? Tell me you aren’t saying that,” she points up at the midday light, “is late.”

Her attempt at a joke relieves the pressure warping the clearing by a hair.

Mikey and Raph cough to cover their laughs, a valiant attempt to match the gravity of the situation. Despite himself and the hurt that renders him almost paralyzed—(Donnie would know, he can feel it pressing down on his lungs)—Leo almost cracks a smile.

Donnie also sees the exact moment the Big Bad flashes across his memory, an arrow loosed uncontrollably.

(casey, desperate and falling apart.)

The smile crumbles before it’s fully formed.

Leo’s eyes slide over to April, tortuously slow.

“Very funny, Apples.”

His voice, tempered by the lingering shock, flickers and fades.

Too hurt, or perhaps more likely, too tired to hide behind quicksilver wit and ironclad walls, every step his blue spirit takes is along a knife’s edge, reverberating down all of their ninpo.

A spike of rage, blindingly violet, wipes away all of Donnie’s thoughts.

(donnie remembers this sensation well. it is the lip-curling, unbridled wrath that burst forth all those months ago.

leo, frozen in an endless time, heartbreaking confession confirming donnie’s worst fears.

fool me once.

casey, searching for a lost time, hateful words doing the exact same.

fool me twice.

it’s all mixed up and his hands are lost in this seething mass, the tangled threads and—

casey is his family, casey is his little brother, casey is funny and clever and—

casey is too clever, casey hid big secrets from his family, casey hurt leo—

leo is too clever, leo hid big secrets from his family—

casey and leo are two sides of the same sword, destined to slice and tear where the other one goes.

donnie remembers this sensation well because the hurt he felt then, staring at leo, gold like a dying sun when he said that he gave up.

the hurt he felt then is the hurt he feels now, reeling at the poisonous green eating away at casey junior when he said that he has no family.

something in donnie, a purple creature as foreign as the stars above, flicks its claws out and demands blood. it is the part of him that lashes out and asks questions never.

something in donnie, a spark of might and determination, quiets the roar and asks for patience. it is the part of him forged by love, by the light that his family cannot put out.

i was angry at leo then and we forgave each other.

i am angry at casey now—)

Donnie jerks his head to the side.

(i am angry at casey now and i will forgive him.

i will forgive him because if that was me, if i was the lone survivor of a world shattered into inconceivable pieces, stuck with a family that is and is not mine, who knows what i would do.

but damn.

the way they hide and scheme…

their resemblance is uncanny.

this is more than casey looking up to leo, eyes filled with an ocean of awe.

too similar too natural.

and for the first time, possibly ever, donnie thinks that maybe…maybe sensei wasn’t an adequate term for who leonardo was to casey.

and he mourns for the kid’s loss, more than he ever has.)

Leo tenses, and a hot rush of shame flares throughout Donnie. Each and every member of the Hamato Clan has a bridge linking their minds, but the one he shares with Leo is so close that he often forgets it is there, forgets to shut off his own thoughts before they fly down the bond and yank Leo into whatever purple chaos swirls within Donnie.

(blue stops the wave of guilt with a silent hand.)

dee, it’s okay. i know it was hard for you too.

Donnie despises the heaviness that lingers at Blue’s being, despises the way they blindside one another, despises the way that Leo is expected to gather himself together in the wake of Casey Jones because unfortunately, alien conquerors actually don’t care about family drama.

He is a man, caught in a housefire, trying to make sure everyone else gets out safe while he watches so many things he holds dear go up in flames.

But sitting there, his twin in need of a lifeline, Donnie decides that he is not powerless.

Where a rush of sky blue reaches out and grasps at nothing, not yet realizing that the aquamarine presence, at first foreign but eventually family, has gone, Donnie sends Leo every ounce of i am here and i am with you through whatever comes next whatever you do next.

(almost snuffed out by shock, something lights up in blue.)

Placing a small hand against his cheek, their sister presses a chaste kiss to Leo’s forehead.

“It’s getting late for what, Leo? What do you want us to do, baby?”

Donnie’s heart aches as he watches his twin—his little brother, his very best friend—lean into April’s hand, eyes falling shut. The dragon purrs and slides off his shell, curling around his collarbones like a necklace.

Leo brushes his fingers against the shimmering scales, summoning a kernel of strength.

Sliding out from Raph’s arm, Leo faces his family with an expression uniquely combining sorrow and calculation and poise—one they saw many times in Raph's face before they knew to call it leadership.

“We need to regroup in the Hidden City—I don’t like leaving them down there for long, especially when things have been a little too quiet since we last saw our ever-so-lovely alien friend. I’ve currently got the yokai planning to fight divided up into about five groups, roughly patrolling the southeast quadrant of the city, since that’s where Witch Town, the Crying Titan, and other activity with the Winged Terrors has been spotted down there.”

(as leo talks, the insecurity and doubt shed like an old coat. he falls into this role as easy as breathing—organizing and delegating, and donnie thinks to himself, how did my twin ever think he couldn’t do this?)

“Why Witch Town?” April asks, glancing at Donnie, sly and joking.

A bright, purple mystic finger flips her off in the space between their minds.

“After Raph and I fought the Terrors in June’s town, and made sure there weren’t any yokai over there for the Sister to…um. Harvest,” Leo cringes, an apology in his eyes as the rest of them shiver. “A former witch told me that their town is one of the most highly concentrated areas of yokai power—and thus empyrean.”

(four turtles and one human all look in different directions, equally affected by that one word.)

“To be completely honest, I’m not sure if it’s the best move for us to stay around there, but I have a bad feeling with how many incidents have involved that part of the city so…yeah.” he finishes, pressing his lips together.

Raph places a hand on Leo’s shoulder, nothing but trust emanating from him.

“Trust your gut, Leo. It’s gotten us this far.”

Donnie may have the whole Twin Thing to lord over his siblings, Mikey can make Leo do anything with his self-proclaimed Baby of the Family eyes, but Raph…

Raph is Leo’s hero.

His approval alone draws out the star-bright smile that transforms Leo’s face into the toothy, laughing, big-hearted brother their family knows and loves.

Beaming, his cheeks as red as his stripes, Leo waves Raph off.

“Alright, alright. We good with this?”

A chorus of hell yeah’s sound in response, spirits rising as their collective focus shifts towards a clear goal in the wake of…the kid.

“Schweet,” Mikey shoots to his feet to stretch, bright and happy and ready to move. “Maybe we’ll have some time to really get settled down there without something bad—”

Donnie’s wrist begins to buzz, frantically, worse than he’s ever felt before. Programing the alert system to grow with intensity the bigger the problem seemed like a great idea upon initial design, but now, with the vibrations numbing his arm…

They all look at Donnie expectantly, expressions cautious and frustration.

Donnie, in turn, glares daggers at Mikey.

“You just had to say something, Angelo.”

His baby brother’s shoulders rise, all the sheepishness of a kid caught drawing on the walls.

What Donnie reads in the frantically typed message makes him stagger back. 

The world opens a black maw beneath his feet, his stomach dropping and flipping, and he sways—a kite caught in a maelstrom of where is up and where is down.

All the building laughter, the shimmering cast of the sun, the feeling we can do this shatters like a thin pane of glass.

A blur of speed, his twin is there, a hand out to steady him.

Leo reads over his shoulder; his sharp intake of breath wizens their family, all at once.

(face covered by trembling hands, purple whispers.)

i can’t tell them.

(comfort, soft as down, swaddles purple.)

you don’t have to.

Vision barely pieced together by his thundering heart, Donnie watches as Leo straightens and begins to share the news—the horrible awful devastating how could this happen news.

“It seems,” his twin says quietly, each word a cost. “It seems as though in my absence, the Sister has chosen to strike.”

Their family move in unison, as if one great being. Shoulders slump, heads bow, gazes flashing a brilliant array of colors: the brilliant flames of red and orange, the cooler depths of green and blue.

“Not your absence, Lee. Not your fault,” Raph reminds, features firm but gentle.

Devastated, Leo looks back up at him, a keening wail lost in his eyes.

“How bad?” April asks, popping her knuckles nervously—no time to beat around the bush.

Leo flinches at the crack crack crack.

“She took the Council of Heads.”

A wind cuts through the forest, biting and shrill. Raph and April pale considerably, the gravity of the situation dawning on them.

Clearing his throat, Mikey purses his lips in confusion.

“I mean, that’s sad for sure. But…they’re just a bunch of old people, right? Like, what did they even do?”

Donnie chokes—good grief Mikey, have some tact.

Pressing a hand to his forehead, Leo replies with no small amount of exasperation, “They were in charge of the whole Hidden City, Mike.”

“But like…were they though?”

Confusion dulling the panic, Leo squints at their baby brother and says, “What?”

“I mean, did we ever even see them bringing the hammer down?”

Everyone pauses, proverbial thought bubbles forming. Running through his mental database of the underground city, Donnie just barely remembers seeing something about where the Heads were located, but nothing else. Why didn't they pay more attention to all those Hidden City tours?

“You know, he actually makes a good point—”

“To be completely honest, I thought Big Mama was the president—”

As much as I want to laugh at Raph, I can’t deny it. She did seem to be the one who ran a lot down there.

“Like I was saying, who even were they—”

Leo flaps his hands in the air, drawing Donnie and the others back into the loop.

“Guys. Guys, like, sure they’re not gonna be missed, but the fact that they were the leaders of the government down there, I think we can assume they were pretty powerful and it is not a good thing that the Sister sucked their souls away or whatever she does.”

“Damn. Like, why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” Mikey asks irreverently, breath fogging into a little cloud.

Pure murder glitters in Leo’s eyes.

Shoving Mikey’s head back into his shell, Raph chuckles nervously, motioning for Leo to continue.

“Things must be pretty bad down there if that’s all June said,” Leo notes. “New plan: you guys head down now and figure out the situation. Be prepared for anything—the Sister could be well on her way to raising the Brother, she might not be.”

Despite it all, Leo keeps his cool, mastering the poisonous fear striking at their ankles—a hidden enemy.

“I’ll grab the kid, and when we all regroup, we kick ass.”

Leo leans in towards his family, markings glowing, sunlight glinting off the steel of his katanas—he is their own beacon of hope, a defiant stand against threats to their world.

“And we win.”

A force, blue and bright, thunders past green and purple and orange and red, a call to arms. Faster and faster, Leo’s ninpo rushes, roaring to his sister and brothers for our family.

The fear blurts out of Donnie’s mouth before he even realizes, taking a shadowy shape.

“How do you know?”

“Last time, we had to win. This time, I want to win,” he replies unyieldingly.

Mikey fidgets with his nunchucks, the chain sliding between his fingers.

“Is there a difference?”

Leo looks at Mikey, the great and terrible force of all Hamato’s living in his gaze. No longer the paralyzing something that once swam behind it, but the galvanizing confidence that promises we can do this.

Holy shit.

“There is,” Leo murmurs, an air of finality cutting through the tension.

A low growl reverberates from his shell, the dragon voicing its agreement.

Pushing his way to the front, Raph extends a hand, the ghost of a smile revealing a snaggletooth. 

“What do we do when we get knocked down?”

Leo clasps his hand, gold locked onto green—fierce and stubborn.

“We get back up.”

Whatever secret language voodoo those two have going on, it’s pretty damn inspiring, Donnie decides.

Unsheathing his swords in one fine motion, Leo slashes them down in a graceful arc, ripping open a portal. Spitting blue sparks, usually the wormholes are exciting—whether it means less cardio for Donnie or something else, but today? When another full scale Krang invasion might be starting again?

Detecting his hesitation, Leo draws Donnie away, assurance flowing out, “We figure it out, together. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“You better, brat. I’m saving first hit for you.”

“Just what I wanted,” his twin laughs, cuffing Donnie’s battle shell.

“Got some whoop ass saved up for Jones?”

“Donnie.”

“Not kidding,” he singsong.

Leo begins to walk toward Casey’s general direction, head shaking, specific location downloaded to his armband from Donnie. Against the towering trees, fallen trunks and boulders, he already seems so tiny—one light to stand up against the Krang.

But one light that outsmarted them once.

One light that has shown us we can do it.

Rejoining the others, Donnie rolls his shoulders, cracking his neck.

“How do you think that’ll go?” April whispers to Mikey, tucking her bat away into its sling.

“Who can know,” he responds sagely, Dr. Feelings peeking open a curious eye.

“I really hope you all aren’t still standing there talking about how awkward things will be!” Leo calls without turning around.

Donnie shoves everyone into the portal, ignoring their protests.

But before he steps into the space between worlds, he whistles, grabbing Leo’s attention.

Stopping, Leo looks at him, quizzical but patient.

Pressing a hand against his heart, Donnie nods.

Leo mirrors the action, the sun catching on the silver building in his eyes.

(twin brothers huddle close together, cradled by secret laughter and soft fairy lights.

the thrill comes from being awake together, when no one else is, hidden beneath a blanket strewn across leo’s room.

“are you sure that means twin?” donnie asks, seven years old and hilariously skeptical for his age.

“deeeee,” leo laughs, seven years old and shy and sweet, saving up most of his words for donnie. “yes, it means twin.”

“how do you know?” presses donnie, smushing their foreheads together until his glasses poke leo’s face, and his twin lightly pushes him away.

“well. i made it up, but we are the only two twin turtle kids, probably in the whole world. so. it’s not like there’s anyone else."

donnie…can’t really argue with that logic.

leo sits up, tucking his legs beneath him, voice hushed as if he is about to spill something strictly confidential. confidential like dad’s secret cookies.

“it means more than just twin though,” leo whispers earnestly, gold eyes wide. “it means ‘stronger together’.”

tilting his head in confusion, donnie hums, waiting for more explanation. he knows leo will give it to him because he knows leo understands him and is patient, even when raph and mikey and dad don’t know what to do.

“do it with me,” urges leo. “and you have to mean it, dee.”

tiny hand pressed against his plastron, beak scrunched in concentration, leo’s eyes fall shut.

donnie’s never seen a star, outside of jupiter jim movies, but what explodes open in his heart must be one. bright and fiery and filled with love—so much donnie might topple over. he could jump to the moon, he could do ten backflips in a row, he could beat raph in a race to the edge of the sewers.

donnie will grow up to be a great inventor, a brilliant mind, a genius unappreciated in his time, but nothing that he will ever make can compare to this moment, in this secret space where leo’s strength is donnie’s strength, where donnie’s strength is leo’s strength.

so he grabs on and takes the gift, the mystery of a pair of twins decided by themselves, and gives it back to leo.

the star pulses in him—stronger together stronger together stronger together.

leo opens firelight eyes and smiles.

“no matter what i’m here for you, you’re here for me.”

“twins,” donnie whispers.

“twins,” leo parrots.

“i hope that is the sound of my boys are laughing and whispering in their sleep!” dad’s voice filters in from the base of the lair.

twins—they mouth at one another, one last time, the gravity of this moment not lost on either child.

donnie shuts the lights off quickly, tiny giggles fading into snuffles and snores.

stronger together.)

It has been ages since either of them have signed that, but the truth of the matter stands. It means i am here for you in the hard conversations, it means i am here for you in the terrifying battles. 

Who knows what’s going to happen when Leo finds the kid; who knows what’s going to happen when Donnie and the rest enter the Hidden City.

Stronger together, a purple current sings.

Stronger together, a blue wind echoes.

—

Giving in to your anger may feel exhilarating, the heady rush of venom that spews from your mouth, chasing the whispering voices down the rabbit hole, that promise it doesn’t matter what you say to them, don’t think of them, don’t think of them, think of the fire—think of how it burns. 

And yeah, there’s a rush.

But it fades. Pretty quickly, actually.

Anger perpetually chases the fight, the adrenaline, the next best place to ruin lives.

Rising from the frigid brook, the inferno blazing down his spine goes out like a light.

One minute, Casey is the dragon on Leo’s back, mighty and powerful and the next, he is a single ember, drifting to the pitiless ground—left with the bleating agony of his severed ninpo, a splitting headache, and enough shame to move a mountain.

A terrible weight settles on his back.

Casey sinks to his knees, eyes welling with tears, the disappointment the fury the what the hell is going on expression from the turtles circling and circling and circling around his brain.

(at the same time, a weight has lifted from his shoulders.)

(leo and donnie and mikey and raph have finally seen the stray demon lurking beneath casey’s skin.)

(it seems friendly, and it’ll even let you pet it. it may even hide its fangs when you do.)

(but it’ll always remember the home it’s been cast away from.)

(eventually it will lash out.)

(and it will make you bleed.)

He should have known, it was too far-fetched, the apocalypse was too terrible too strong to let anything good live.

Not even himself.

Casey buries his head in his knees and weeps.

He feels all the stone walls, all the all the fading strands of his ninpo—every last little hurt that he’s shoved down down down—clamoring for his attention, shrieks and yells clanging about his mind.

It didn’t do any good to keep it hidden then, so might as well let it all loose.

It explodes out—an ocean kept in a tin can.

Casey muses, distantly, whether it could have leveled a mountain.

(miles and miles and miles away, the pentagon is almost worried. an intern’s checking into the weird energy surge near nyc. he wishes this was a paid internship.)

Searching for the otherworldly green, no longer caught in his selfish claws, Casey cries harder. There’s…quite a bit to feel guilty about—the bruise on leo’s face the heartbreak he caused the lies and the pain and the way he struck mikey’s powers like a poisonous adder—

The empyrean blinks back at him—cold, foreign.

Still, it remains.

Summoning the courage—just like Sensei always taught him to, Casey bows his head and opens his hands.

I’m so sorry, he whispers to the rippling green, the voice in his mind a mere husk. You told me—you warned me about your power, you told me about how others have used you and even though you never said it, they hurt you. And I am no better. I wasn’t grateful for my second chance and I hurt you.

I am sorry.

And I set you free.

Green pauses, relents even. A spark of curiosity flickers.

I set you free.

(do you know what that means?)

Casey swallows down his nerves. He has literally no idea what he’s doing, but if loosing the empyrean from his body might offer him a shred of redemption, he’ll do it.

It seems like the right thing to do.

I…no. But if people are always using you, you can’t be free.

Something like warmth—small at first—begins to grow from the vivid green.

(i have been alive for so long.)

(it is true. i have been used for good and true and bright things. for things far better than i have seen today.)

Casey shrivels. How could he have gotten so wrapped up in—

(i have been used for evil for terrible and wicked things that would make the skin crawl off your bones. for things far worse than i have seen today.)

(they all ignored my voice.)

His heart thunders uncontrollably—each beat a deafening crash. The empyrean has never spoken in this tone before.

Clear and assessing and—

(yet you, child from many times, you heard my voice.)

(you heard what i said and what i did not say.)

(timeless child, because you heard my voice, from your heart you apologized, because you have freed me, i will hear your voice.)

(i will remain with you, a gift for The One Who Listened, until the time comes.)

(you will know the time.)

(but no longer.)

Wait—what?

It is too late.

Bright and unnatural and living green has faded from his mind’s eye—leaving him alone, once again.

Alone in his mistakes.

And without the empyrean’s terrifying otherness distracting him, everything comes rushing back.

Unable to bear it, Casey loses himself in the sea of grief—closer than a familiar friend, doggedly pursuing him to the ends of the earth. No matter how much light he finds, this shadow will never fade away.

He supposes he’s earned this.

Instead of the green flames scorching his throat, it is the buckling, awful, unyielding drone of they are all gone and i am alone.

(what casey does not notice, what casey does not feel as he weeps is a mere blip. something curious. something that pokes and prods at the walls long gone.)

(that something breathes in. it is blue. it is sparkling and wild as the open skies. not the open skies of a crisp, spring morning—endless and sunburned. it is the open sky of a long winter’s day—it has seen the leaves fall, it has seen flowers wither. it knows the lethal beauty of a snowstorm, the wind that cuts to the bone. it is old.)

(this blue something has been looking for a way in, for a very, very long time.)

(and it was ageless green who saw its searching.)

(who left the door cracked.)

Casey sinks to the bottom of the well, his heart thumping like a dead weight as he hits the ground.

A damp cool meets him. 

His ninpo quivers, weak. It will not last, though it is in shock. Without the others, without red and orange and purple and green and…blue…it will snuff out.

He should be sad. 

Disappointed in himself. 

Maybe even angry.

But Casey cannot bring himself to be any of those things because in the name of ugly and vulnerable and terrible honesty, he is tired. 

What is the point of having these brilliant, beautiful memories of the Hamato’s from the future when the turtles he lives with now will never grow up to be like the ones Casey knew—when they are gone and Casey is still alive and maybe it’s pathetic that he can’t move on and maybe it was actually a shitty idea to hide the empyrean and maybe if he just got a better night’s sleep he wouldn’t have exploded at Leo like that but he misses his dad so damn much that he would give anything to see him again.

(After leaving…Casey had tried ever so hard to only think of Sensei…as Sensei.)

(Not his dad, not his father.)

(Calling him Sensei guaranteed the turtles would only ever refer to him as a teacher, and never brush against that raw wound.)

(Calling him Sensei felt like it would dull the knife’s edge.)

(It did not.)

He misses his dad.

“I miss you so much, dad,” he cries, shoulders curving forward.

(that’s all this blue something needs.)

“Hey Squirt.”

…

This has got to be the cruelest joke my mind’s played on me yet. 

I guess there is something deeper than rock bottom.

…

“So overdramatic.”

Casey raises his head, tears cooling in a phantom breeze.

…

Holy shit.

“Casey Jones, is that how you speak to your dad?”

…

He’s on his feet instantly, tripping and stumbling into the massive arms, scarred shell, and wide, familiar so familiar smile of Sensei.

And his voice, a river and a song, close to Leo but more…musical and rippling and entirely its own.

Heart in his throat, Casey cannot believe what’s going on, his mind is blank, his lungs are heaving—did he die? Did he cry so hard he died??

His dad chuckles, a low rumble that runs throughout Casey.

He’d forgotten, forgotten the sound of his own father, his sarcastic grin, the safe comfort of his embrace.

I’d forgotten so much.

“Casey, Casey, it’s okay,” Sensei laughs softly, clutching him even closer. Casey feels him rest his chin on the crown of his head, and starts ever so slightly. 

(Leo hugs him the exact same way. Maybe some things aren’t lost.) 

His voice, the knee-buckling relief of hearing Sensei outside of his wayward memories—