Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The unmarred sky was something Casey was still getting used to.

No thick clouds hiding the moon away. No Technodrome looming above them all. No crumbling ruins and swathes of barren wasteland littered with remnants of war.

Instead, his eyes were graced with tall spires of glass windows and fields of lights and the ever present murmuring of people doing their own thing. He couldn’t recall there being so many humans and had never seen this large a crowd in his life. The Resistance meetings looked meagre in comparison to these sheer numbers.

And not seeing any mutants wandering the surface reminded him that this wasn’t his world. There was no sense of unity and he missed seeing it, even as the Krang had been bearing down on them with murderous fury.

Most of all, he missed his lost family, especially the one he considered a father.

“Heads up!”

A yell had Casey turning his head to the small gathering further from the edge of this rooftop.

“Nardo!”

Leo was laughing, seemingly unbothered by Donnie’s scowl, as the purple masked turtle held the flung pizza. His face was covered in bits of sticky cheese and a piece of sliced mushroom. Mikey had his hands over his mouth with bright eyes while Raph chuckled.

They were exactly as his mentor’s picture had captured them, young and free of all the anguish that had engulfed the world in another timeline. And Casey should have been grateful for it, he should feel thankful that he got to live here with a version of his family, whole and together again.

But they weren’t his . They weren’t the ones he grew up with, the ones who had shaped him into who he was now, the ones that had been there for him through everything.

The turtles here weren’t his father and uncles. And yet, they were: a very real reminder that this was who his family had once been before he was even born.

April had talked to him about going to school, mainly because since he was now no longer in an apocalyptic future, he had the chance to experience a normal life.

Normal.

Normal was going on hazardous supply runs and hiding from the Krang. Normal was training in preparation for the next major battle. Normal was having his father there to be the pillar of hope for all that remained, to be a hero when the world had needed him most.

He had said he would think about it but the idea wasn’t too thrilling. Curiosity was certain, however, it paled in comparison to his need to be by the turtles, to live alongside them as opposed to other humans.

Because even if they weren’t the family he knew, they were the only mostly familiar things in this world he had barely gotten a grasp of. And he didn’t mind waking at night - those had been the safer times to do anything in the future, when the skies were dimmer and the Krang could barely spot them in the denser ruins without advanced scanners.

“Hey, Casey, you okay?” Mikey asked, having pulled away from the squabble Leo and Donnie were now engaged in.

“Uh, yeah,” he said lamely. “Just thinking.”

The orange masked turtle sat himself down beside him, crossing his legs like how he remembered Master Michelangelo doing. He supposed it was a thing that wouldn’t change with time.

“About what?”

“Oh, you know, how different everything is here.”

Amethyst eyes barely dimmed, the young turtle’s smile unwavering.

“So, am I gonna get to hear any stories?” he asked. “You tell them to April whenever she wants to know.”

Truthfully, he was very vague with his recollections of the life from whence he came. No big details or personal anecdotes, just basic retellings of things that had happened. He admittedly wasn’t the best at spinning tales.

“I don’t think I have any you would like.”

An understatement. From what he had gathered over the past months, the kinds of stories he deemed ‘alright’ were pretty bad by this world’s standards. April had made it pretty clear that a number of them sounded like the basis for a horror book.

“Come on! There has to be at least one!” Mikey pressed with barely contained excitement.

Casey hummed, touching his hand to his chin. What could he tell him? That time Master Donatello had to chase one of his spider shells around the base? Or maybe when Master Michelangelo snuck in a can of paint and they had made a mess of the meeting room by accident? Or...

“I think one time, we found Master Leonardo asleep in Master Donatello’s lab with a wrench.”

That certainly piqued his friend’s interest.

“How did he get there?”

Casey tapped his fingers on his knees.

“We weren’t really sure and asking everyone else didn’t tell us anything. When Master Donatello came back, he checked the security cameras for us and it turns out he was kind of woozy. He wandered around like…” He took a moment to sway and flail his arms in a pretty bad imitation of what he had seen. “And tried to fix his arm with a wrench. Master Leonardo passed out before he could though.”

Mikey was biting his lip. He wasn’t laughing but he was definitely amused.

“That must have been real funny.”

“Master Michelangelo and Donatello thought so,” Casey said with a small grin. “Sensei wasn’t too happy about it when he woke up though.”

“Sounds like Leo.”

He hummed in agreement.

“ You’d better not have a recording of all that.”

“Brother dearest, you know I can’t let such a precious memory fade away.”

“If you show that to anyone, you’re taking the next supply run alone.”

“Scoff. As if your constant worry would ever let us do that. You need to work on your threats.”

“Mikey, help me out here.”

“No, Dee’s right, Leon. You should come up with something better.”

“Maybe I will once you stop laughing.”

“Aren’t you laughing too?”

“Only because you guys are infecting me!”

“Hey, guys,” Raph called. “Donnie’s picked up something. Let’s roll.”

Casey and Mikey both turned to the red masked snapper, quickly hopping to their feet.

The chasing of a goal was familiar to him and he found a sort of relief in whatever patrols he could join. It was easier for him than April, given his natural schedule was to be up at night with the turtles.

Maybe this was another minor yokai scuffle; those had been happening quite a bit as of late.

Either way, he would do his best to help.

“According to the coordinates of that mystic energy surge, this is where the point of interest should be.”

It was a large area of metallic waste, old and rusting automobiles piled up high behind the metal sheets barely called walls. Tires, more bits of steel and all that could be seen scattered about.

“But why Repo’s scrapyard?” Leo asked with a raised brow.

Casey had no idea who that was.

Mikey slid in beside his brothers, “Maybe he got another mystic item?”

“Then shouldn’t we be seeing lasers in the sky or something?” the blue ninja countered. “Donnie’s sensors usually only pick up mystic stuff from far away if it’s being used.”

“Not everything mystic is bright and flashy, 'Nardo,” said turtle huffed.

Leo waved a hand.

“But it is usually pretty obvious when something mystic is going on.”

Donnie grumbled while his twin smirked.

Casey was still not quite used to the frequency of the two having such interactions. But then again, the Leonardo and Donatello he knew had been much older in his memories, usually keeping their troubles behind closed doors.

He noticed Mikey scanning the scrapyard as Raph tried to mediate between his brothers in the background. The orange turtle’s lips were pulled into a thin line, eyes focused on something he couldn’t see.

“Is something wrong?” Casey asked.

“I think someone’s there but I can’t tell who.”

“Well, duh, it’s probably the mantis who somehow hasn’t been eaten by his own cat,” Leo quipped.

Mikey shook his head, “No, not Repo. I think… I think it’s another Hamato.”

“But aren’t we the only ones?” Raph cut in. Leo and Donnie had fallen silent too, eyes on their youngest brother.

“I mean…”

There was a tingling in the air, one that Casey couldn’t quite put his finger on. But it was familiar. He knew this presence yet it couldn’t be possible.

He was the only one left.

There couldn’t have been anyone else who made it back here too.

“Ohmigosh,” Mikey whispered.

The box turtle pointed a finger just past Raph’s shoulder, making them all turn to follow his gaze. Casey saw the other’s eyes growing wide and mouths dropping open. He peered around and…

Amethyst purple eyes, framed by wrinkles, found him and that smile with freckled dimples graced a face he had last seen turn to golden dust. Grey sideburns on either side of a spotted head; simple cloak of dull oranges with patterned edges draped over lean shoulders; bandages wrapped tightly around his arms and shins.

“Hey, kid.”

“Master Michelangelo…”

Illuminated by golden light, the greatest mystic warrior they had ever known winked at them, a warm smile on his face as he finally tore open the portal, body scattering into particles of glowing dust...

Casey found himself jogging forward and his mind finally caught up as a familiar scaly hand placed itself atop his head. His vision was swimming and words got caught in his throat. One moment, he was looking at his uncle’s face and the next, his face was pressed into a dulled green shoulder with the warmth of a plastron and arms encompassing him.

“Uncle Mikey…”

“Easy, Case,” the purple-eyed turtle murmured. “I’m here, bud.”

He clutched at the fabric of Michelangelo’s cloak, relishing in the familiar scents that clung to the mystic warrior who had helped raise him.

“Uh…”

Casey startled as the voice of young Leo cut through the bubble he hadn’t realised he had been in. He pulled away from his uncle and hastily wiped his face, moving to stand to the side of the turtle who now stood on the dusty ground.

“Nice to meet ya, past me and bros,” Michelangelo said with a small grin.

“OHMIGOSH, that’s me?!”

Well, at least Mikey looked excited about this.

Chapter Text

The last thing Michelangelo remembered was his body falling away as he finally opened the time gateway.

He did it.

It had taken everything but he had done it.

Leo could handle the rest.

If anyone could turn this into a miracle, it was his big brother. And he had Casey with him.

The two of them would save their world.

But instead of finally joining his brothers in the afterlife, Michelangelo had woken on a sandy floor. Piles of metal carcasses were stacked around him and upon a quick exploration, he realised where he was.

Repo Mantis’ scrapyard, one of many places that had been razed in the war against the Krang.

The sky, the sky was clear of foreboding clouds. It was cooler than the hot air that had become normal after the many fires that ravaged their home. Distant lights - not Krang searchlights or the eyes of hounds - were cutting through the dark, making things brighter than they should be.

And it was the voices that had drawn him out of his hiding spot, ones he recognised from long ago, making his heart clench and warm in equal measure.

He saw himself and his brothers as they had been as teenagers, and Casey Jones Jr right there beside them. The kid had run towards him and began crying right there.

A hug was naturally the best cure he knew for those tears.

Though it wouldn't be able to make up for his dying right in front of his nephew.

Any questions he had were left on hold as his younger self immediately bombarded him in the hyperactive way he remembered being. Spirits, had he really been so bouncy? It felt odd to see with how he was now. But it gave him hope, seeing as this version of him was still so happy, still together with all his big brothers.

Little Leo had been the one to get them back to the lair, reasoning that they should leave before Repo came by to ruin the mood. As horrible as it may be, Michelangelo still thought Repo was not the nicest guy. Any ideas of the guy becoming nicer in the apocalypse were dashed when he was listed as one of the deceased in the early war.

And now?

“You have to teach me how to float,” his younger self whispered, stars in his eyes.

A smile tugged at his lips, “Not sure I have to, little me.”

“But why not?”

“There can only be one floating turtle in this city, sorry.”

Mikey - it was probably easier to just call past him that - pouted and crossed his arms.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the display.

Up ahead, Little Leo and Younger Raph led their group along towards the gate that led to their lair. The former was small, as lean as he remembered, nowhere near as wide as his own brother had ended up becoming. As for the latter, he seemed small in comparison to the eldest brother he had last known before his death - if only this Raph knew just how massive he would be in time. Little Donnie looked disinterested but he noticed him glancing back at him every so often, curious and probably vibrating with questions.

Casey was walking beside him and Mikey, not having anything to say. If he was anything like his father, the boy would keep his questions and all else to himself until they were somewhere safe. But at least he was more emotionally adept than the person he idolised the most.

The security system allowed them in without issue. They never found fault in Donnie’s work in that, given how secure they had been for so long, even before they found this abandoned subway tunnel to call home and their new lair.

“IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS?!”

Michelangelo blinked, floating over behind the scrambling of the others. He followed their gazes to see what had caused such an outburst from the young version of his genius brother.

“Sweet coat,” Little Leo whistled.

There, on the main platform between the atrium and the various carriages that made up the other rooms, stood a brother he knew was supposed to be dead. His chest suddenly felt so tight as those red eyes landed on him.

“Dee…” he breathed.

Michelangelo blinked and found himself within arm’s reach of Donatello. A mystic visor replaced the goggles that had been broken early on; the breathing mask with a specially built filter hid what he knew was a purple ‘stubble’ that marked the softshell’s chin among other things; a deep purple scarf kept his neck warm as that long dark trench coat, buttons done up, kept him warm. Specialised socks covered his feet, stretching up to where the fabric of his pants had been bunched up mid-shin - his left leg was silver and metallic. Even with his hood up, he could recognise him anywhere.

A scarred hand, larger than he remembered, touched his shoulder.

“Fancy seeing you here, Michael.”

He threw his arms around Donatello, burying his face into his big brother’s shoulder. And his heart leapt in his chest as his embrace was returned.

“I see I was well missed.”

The deeper voice of the softshell was monotone and would have been seen as detached but Michelangelo knew he was glad to see him too. The genius had always loved his brothers more than he usually let on and none of them ever doubted that, especially in the war.

“Of course we missed you,” he rasped.

“Casey, can you…?” Raph murmured behind him.

“Oh, right.”

He pulled away from hugging his brother to face the young version of the ‘Mad Dogs’, the student they collectively mentored clearing his throat.

“This is Master Michelangelo, and Master Donatello,” the boy said with a gesture to each of them. “They were my teachers.”

Mikey’s eyes were even wider, more starstruck than before, and Donnie had what seemed like an exaggerated gasping expression. It was a funny sight to see, honestly.

“Before I answer any questions, I will unfortunately have to inform you that I do not have those lottery numbers we agreed on.”

It was relieving to know he wasn’t the only turtle in the wrong time.

And as much as Donatello’s info dumps still made him want to run away, the familiar droning of his brother’s voice was a balm on the wound left by his death years ago. Even with two, Michelangelo had no compulsion to leave yet.

Little Leo had gone off to his room and Younger Raph remained as a soothing presence of sorts, watching both of his remaining little brothers. Mikey was still begging him for answers while Donnie was having a field day in his conversation with Donatello.

But now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen his Leo at all.

“Hey, Case?”

“Yeah?”

“Where’s Leo?”

Casey’s face paled and the teenager averted his eyes, biting his lip.

“I think he went to his own room,” Mikey said. But that wasn’t the blue masked turtle Michelangelo had been referring to.

“Casey?”

The boy’s shoulders began to tremble, tears once again falling from his eyes. Nearby, Donatello had paused in his talking and was likely laser focused on them. And distantly, he knew Raph was herding himself and their younger selves into the atrium.

“Casey, where is Leo ?”

“He…” His nephew needed a moment to gather up enough breath to continue. “After you opened the portal, he threw me in. I-I watched, I saw it. The Krang’s laser, it… it got…”

Michelangelo had never felt so cold.

No...

He was hollow as he reached over and pulled the quietly sobbing teenager into his arms, vision flashing with a memory that felt so old now.

“Leo?”

“Yeah, Miguel?”

“Can you promise me something?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Promise you won’t give up.”

“You know I won’t-”

“Promise me. Promise you won’t stop fighting, no matter what.”

“Mikey…”

“Please…”

“...Alright. I promise, little bro.”

He should have known.

He should have known his brother, so guilt ridden and weary the last time he had seen him, would give up his life in a stupidly noble gesture.

But he had hoped, had hoped both him and Casey would go through together.

A low growl came from next to him even as a hand settled on his shoulder again. Donatello’s brows were pulled tight, eyes boiling. Even without a word, he knew what his brother was thinking, and for once, Michelangelo agreed.

It had been a while but a visit from Dr Delicate Touch was long overdue. And his first patient was a certain dumb self-sacrificial slider.

“If we’re here, he must be too.”

Michelangelo looked over, hand still stroking Casey’s head.

“I am going to hunt him down.”

“Let me know when you find him,” he called after his retreating brother.

“Roger that.”

With the steps of Donatello fading away, he focused back on the boy in his arms. Like this, Casey looked almost exactly like that young child Leo had held at his hip, letting small fingers and teeth pull at his then less ragged scarf.

“Why did he do that?” Casey whimpered.

Michelangelo tightened his embrace.

“...Because he loved you more than himself.”

Stupid big brother, always putting others before yourself...

The keyboard was smaller than he remembered, but then again, perhaps it was him who had grown and not the console he was now commandeering.

It was a small miracle that he had never thought to change the way his systems worked, practically identical to the ones he used at this age. And they still worked like a charm. How gratifying.

Even so, his number one priority was to find his idiotic twin and give him a nice punch to the face. After that, he was to be the victim of Dr Delicate Touch, and rightfully so. It was only fair given the stunt he had pulled while the rest of them were by all rights dead.

Leo had supposed to keep living, and was meant to keep going for a good few years before joining them. He had a world to save, and yet he had chosen to die right after Michelangelo had opened the portal. The fool gave the boy who had essentially become his son a mission and threw him to the past to complete it alone.

Had he not considered how difficult it would be for Casey to navigate a world he had only ever heard about in stories? How was a boy raised in a war supposed to properly find his way around New York City before the Krang had torn it down?

A moron, a real dum-dum his twin was.

And yet, beneath his boiling anger, his heart ached. He sorely desired for it to cease but emotions would afflict him no matter what he did.

Because this was his brother, the twin he had spent the first quarter of their lives actively disliking.

Donatello’s eyes passed over the screen with ease, scanning them for what was most important at this very moment: his Leo’s location. The tracker he had installed so many years ago should still be functional, if not the subcutaneous one then the chip in the robotic arm. And if his twin had lost either of those things, he would be getting double the comeuppance for being so dumb.

The opening of the lab door alerted him to his younger self’s entry.

“I take it you are not having much luck at the moment?” Donnie asked.

“Unfortunately,” he hummed. “Can I help you?”

“Well, aside from the numerous remaining questions I have, perhaps I could lend a hand?”

Donatello paused in his typing to glance over at his counterpart, taking in the smaller softshell and recognising all too well the hopeful glint in those eyes.

“I suppose, just this once, I can accept the extra help. That is, if you don’t mind the idea of an older version of your Leo being brought here.”

Donnie pinched his brows, “As horrible as that sounds, I will do what I can.”

With two geniuses, this should go much faster now. And as strange as it was to be working with a past version of himself, he could simply think of it as having a like-minded little brother.

Yeah, no, still weird.

But it was nice nonetheless.

A blip finally appeared on the screen, but it wasn’t Leo.

Donatello had to take a step back.

Then he bolted out of the lab.

Chapter Text

Raphael stared up at the unclouded sky, standing within the shadow of an alleyway.

It was not a bad sight to be greeted with but he wondered just how he was here, alive again.

His right eye was still gone, sure, and he was covered in scars as expected. However, his plastron was whole, if marred by the new scar of the fatal wound that had claimed his life. His hand brushed against it.

That wound…

His little brother was staring up at him with wide eyes.

He looked so scared.

It’s okay. Raph will protect you.

“...Raph…?”

He sounded so small.

Don’t cry.

His own lips tugged into a smile, even as everything grew dark.

Amber-gold eyes were swimming in tears but his brother was safe.

He had protected him.

“Raph…!”

You’re okay.

His hand touched the lime green cheek.

That’s all that matters…

Leo...

Where was his little brother? Where were all his brothers?

Even as they had gotten older, he hated being apart from them.

What if he wasn’t there to protect them when they needed him most?

Though… it was probably years too late for that line of thought, given he had watched them all from the afterlife with the rest of their family, all their ancestors, especially Dad and Gram-Gram.

Of all of them, he was most worried for his blue brother.

How was he now? Where was he? And most importantly, was he okay?

His last memories before waking here in what looked like the past were blurry, jumbled and hard to untangle.

But that was unimportant when he had brothers to find.

And first things first, he needed to figure out where he was.

Spotting a nearby fire escape, Raphael quickly scaled up to the rooftop of the building it was connected to.

The skyline was painfully familiar and reminded him in no uncertain terms that this was what they had once had. It was a shame that he never got to see the world get rebuilt, gone too early in the war against the Krang.

But he was sure his brothers paid those monsters back tenfold for it.

Back on track, he scanned around for any sign of a place he knew they once frequented. Hmmm...

Wait, that was Roosevelt High, April’s school.

Had he really been so close to it upon landing here?

And it was late enough that no one should be inside. But should he sneak in?

Was there any point if April - his fun-loving big sister before everything went bad - wasn’t there right now?

Raphael had been so deep in thought he almost missed the familiar whirring of blades. It was the sound of Donnie’s hover shell, and it was fast approaching.

He turned and watched as the figure became clearer in the moonlight.

The softshell was taller and had packed on some more muscles over the years but those red eyes, he couldn’t help but remember when they had been part of a rounder face, once covered by glasses before the thick frames were abandoned in their teens.

“Heya, Donnie.”

Those thick brows pulled tight across his forehead, eyes glaring with what was surely a scowl under that mask. He hovered forward and with fists balled up at his sides, Raphael blinked as his younger brother forcefully bumped his head against his own.

“Ow,” he said reflexively.

His purple sibling pulled away as quickly as he had initiated that touch.

“What, no ‘hello’ for Raph?”

“After that stunt you pulled, no, I don’t think so.”

Ah. Of course. Donnie wasn’t the type to forgive and forget so easily.

“Now come along, our baby brother needs something good today.”

He grinned, “Lead the way, little brother.”

Raphael should have figured they would find their way back to the old lair.

Why hadn’t he thought of that?

But as soon as he walked through the gate, which looked much smaller than he remembered, his spotted baby brother immediately tackled him with a hug.

Some things never changed.

And to hold the box turtle in his arms again was just what he needed to help clear his mind.

Loud ugly sobs were muffled into his plastron and Raphael didn’t mind at all. Mikey had clearly needed this for a long time.

He couldn’t help noticing the wrinkles that had accumulated over the years, his baby brother looking decades older than he actually was. It was probably from the constant use of his mystic powers, and a consequence of pushing to learn such advanced skills so quickly.

His chest tightened as he stared, holding his brother as close as possible without crushing him, letting him slowly calm from crying his little heart out. And their genius softshell was right there beside them, a hand on his arm - he never was the hugging type, usually.

Raphael spotted a dot of orange out of the corner of his eye and glanced over to see a smaller box turtle peeking at them from behind the atrium’s arch.

So they really were in the past.

Spirits, was Mikey really that small back then?

He smiled at the little counterpart of his baby brother which sent the kid scampering off, maybe to get past Raph?

Actually, now that he had time to look himself over…

“Yes, you are indeed older than you were when you, you know.”

“Oh. Thanks, Donnie.”

“Please, call me Donatello. It should help distinguish us from our younger selves.”

“Ah, right, got’cha.”

Yeah, this was good… Even if it was still weird to be here in the old lair.

A small shuffle came from the stairs and there was a teenage boy walking down towards them, though he paused halfway there.

Casey Jones Jr, the boy he barely knew for more than a year or two. His nephew.

“Case, this is Raph,” Michelangelo said to the boy with a warm smile.

The teen’s face was still uncertain before he returned the smile and directed it at Raphael. He couldn’t help but return it.

“Nice to see ya again, kid.”

“Me too” - his smile wavered - “even if I don’t remember you.”

“Ah, don’t sweat it. You were only a toddler at the time, you’re good.”

He opened up an arm to the boy and his heart leapt as Casey entered the embrace, smaller than his baby brother but just as huggable.

His family was all back together.

Wait.

He looked around, letting his ninpo feel out the surroundings.

“Where’s Leo?”

Michelangelo and Casey flinched while Donatello’s scowl returned full-force.

“Guys?”

“We don’t know,” the box turtle murmured into his plastron.

“What do you mean?”

He stared down at the two he held, watching as they exchanged pinched looks then turning to meet him with watery eyes.

“We had been planning it for weeks…”

Mikey continued to peer at the future gang - because they were all from the future, duh - from the safety of the atrium arch.

He couldn’t help but notice the way his awesome future self who could float clung to Big Raph or the way Tall Donnie got angry when their Leo was mentioned.

But mostly?

Future Raph was HUGE! He somehow looked like a kaiju compared to the Raph he knew. He had an eyepatch over his right eye; the snaggletooth was sharper somehow; he had so many scars all over him like the others but a massive one that he couldn’t help staring at for longer; claws on his hands and a long tail that looked fun to cling to. And from the hug he could see, he was just as much of a softie as the eldest brother he had.

“Mikey, you shouldn’t be spying on them during a private moment,” his Raph chided.

“But come on, Raph, don’t you wanna know more about them?”

“I’m sure we have plenty of time to get acquainted with the peepaws,” Leo said with a wave of his hand.

“They’re not that old,” Raph said. “...Are they?”

“Do you think we will meet their Leo soon?” Mikey asked, moving to climb on his snapper brother.

“Well, with what Casey says, I’m pretty excited to meet future handsome amazing me,” the red-eared slider grinned.

“The idea of a second 'Nardo is already giving me nightmares, he says completely seriously,” Donnie deadpanned.

“I am hurt, Dee,” Leo gasped with a hand to his chest.

“Then suffer.”

Mikey snickered into his hand at his blue brother’s even bigger dramatic gasp.

“WHAT?!”

The thundering voice startled Mikey so bad he blanked out.

One moment, he was there and the next, he was in his shell. Large hands held him, stroking his carapace.

“Mikey, you okay?” Raph asked with clear worry.

He poked his head back out, forcing his lips up into a smile.

“Yeah, just got spooked for a sec.” Mikey looked around, popping his limbs out again. “What was that?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, scrambling over to perch atop Leo to peer out at the future gang with him and Donnie.

Big Raph was towering over them all, teeth bared and claws ready to tear into something. Future him was hovering near his face while Tall Donnie moved over to Casey’s side after the human took a step back.

“Raph, easy,” Future Mikey said. “We’ll find him.”

“But he could be dying out there!”

“Nardo has been through worse,” Tall Donnie added. “He wouldn’t go down so easily.”

Mikey couldn’t hear the next words, all sound muffling and vision growing distant.

“Casey, listen to me. When I get to the other side, you close that door.”

“...What? Sensei, no!”

“Casey, it’s the only way. He’s too strong. He’s not gonna stay on the other side unless I keep him there.”

“There has to be another way!”

“We’ve tried everything, Case. This is the only way.”

“Leo, please don’t do this. Leo!”

“Heh. You’re one to talk, Big Bro. Hero moves are totally your style.”

He could see the gaping tear in the sky, a colourless world just beyond the shape of the Krang ship. The prison dimension.

Everything was cold as he listened to the feed from his big brother, his bright spirited brother.

The Krang. The crumbling of stone. The cracks. His brother’s grunts and cries of pain-

“Leo, please , I can’t lose you again!”

“Hey. Future me would be real proud of you. I’m proud of you.”

More cracking. More signs of his big brother, of Leo getting hurt by that monster.

Then a blade sliced into flesh, clear even over the comm.

“What you failed to understand is: I missed on purpose!”

His heart was pounding.

“Casey, close the portal now !”

There was a pause. And Mikey dared to hope.

“Casey! Ugh- Please!”

The explosion of colours did nothing but send his heart plummeting to the depths of the ocean, all the way to the bottom as the connection to their brother turned to static.

His eyes were glued to the sky, scalding tears trailing down his face. Hand to his mouth, he wanted to throw up.

He… Leo was-

“Hey, Miguel, buddy.”

Mikey blinked, finding himself looking into the face of Leo, in the lair. He took in the unmarred lime green scales, the bright red crescents, the amber-orange eyes.

He was here.

He was safe.

His big brother wasn’t gone forever.

“You okay?” the slider asked gently.

Mikey nodded, eyes still stinging but the smile was real. Then he remembered the future versions of them. He looked over to see the other two and Casey struggling to keep Big Raph from storming out of the lair.

That angry fear was one he now knew. Maybe less the anger, and more of the fear.

The older snapper turtle was scared for his missing brother.

“We should help them,” Mikey said.

Leo blinked, “Come again?”

“Our future selves. We should help them find their Leo.”

He pointedly looked at Raph and Donnie.

“Even if we don’t know what happened to him, we have to do this.”

Because we know how it feels to nearly lose a brother.

“Alright,” Raph said. He looked to the red-eared slider. “Well, leader?”

Leo blinked before nodding, the familiar look of determination gracing his face.

“Come on, team. Let’s go get their brother back.”

“Yeah!”

The stone was cold against his shell, scales still scorching from the laser that should have killed him.

His side burned and even the slightest twitch shot liquid fire through his entire being.

Moving was no longer an option once he had fallen here.

His body refused to listen to him.

He liked the sky. It wasn’t covered in clouds or dotted with alien spaceships. There was the moon, a nice whole circle of silver.

Everything sounded muffled and it began to grow darker.

Ah.

Was it finally his time?

He heard someone laugh but they sounded far too tired.

Raph, Donnie, Mikey…

He would see them soon.

People were coming closer, but he couldn’t seem to care.

Let them find him.

Blurs appeared around his vision, warm palms soothing a deep chill that had seeped into his bones.

He knew these hands.

A smile - the first real one in ages - pulled his lips up.

“...Raph…”

His big brother had come to take him home.

And as his eyes finally fell shut, he allowed himself to lean as close as he could to that warmth, even when the muffled voices fell further and further away.

“...Sorry…”

I’m sorry for everything, and… I love you.

Chapter Text

The silence between them in the ‘lobby’ was deafening.

But it wasn’t unexpected, given Leo was currently patching his own future self up in the medbay. And the brothers from the apocalypse didn’t seem surprised by the thought of the older slider being on the verge of death.

Casey had curled up in Raphael’s lap, arms wrapped around himself and his eyes down. Michelangelo hovered next to his shoulder while Donatello leaned against a wall, eyes closed with a frown.

The sight of future Leo was something the young turtles hadn’t expected, were not prepared for.

He was big, about the size of Raph but maybe an inch shorter, and muscled; wrinkles lined his forehead in a Raph-chasm Leo swore to never get; his right arm was made of metal and looked eerily like it was modelled after Raphael’s limb; dark navy pants with silver knee guards were held up to his waist by a minimalistic belt, equipped with two pouches; his mask was a deeper blue with tattered tails; the well-worn scarf large enough to be a cape on the older slider; a sword with purple and red cloth tied to the handle...

And he had been slowly bleeding out from a severe wound to his plastron.

Raph saw the familiar fear for his brothers’ well-being reflected in his future self’s eyes, knew what it was the moment the massive snapper had pulled the injured slider into his arms - still so small compared to his big brother.

Mikey tasted the sorrow of his older self at the sight, breath caught in his chest until all saw the slider breathing - shallow and laboured but alive.

Donnie observed the impassive mask of his future counterpart, the apathetic display broken by the balled fists at the tall softshell’s sides that shook ever so slightly - enraged but controlled.

The shuffling of cloth and claws from the atrium was cut off by a voice the older turtles had not heard in years.

“Boys? What is going on here?”

In the archway, atop the stairs, stood the diminutive form of their rat mutant father Splinter. The brown and gold trim robe; his grey fur and whiskers; small twitching ears and long pink tail; those dark brown eyes that had carried over from his human life as Lou Jitsu; his accented warm voice.

“Purple,” Splinter said, pointedly staring at Donnie. “What did you do?”

“It was not me this time,” the softshell protested. “Why does everyone assume it was I who did this?”

“And Blue?”

“In the medbay,” Mikey said.

The rat turned to observe what looked to be the older, adult versions of his sons. Red had gotten massive and was scarred beyond belief; Orange had grey hairs and looked too old compared to the others; Purple had a metal leg and now stood so tall. But most of all, they all looked at him like he was a ghost, tears in their eyes and silent.

Adult or not, these were still his sons. And as a father, what else could he do but open his arms up to them?

Michelangelo immediately lowered to his knees, burying his face in a shoulder, shuddering as those whiskers tickled his scales. Raphael was right behind the box turtle, lowering to rest his forehead atop their father’s head. Donatello touched his own head to the back of Splinter’s shoulder, not minding the tail that brushed his back.

“My boys…”

Raph, Mikey and Donnie all exchanged looks. So they had lost their beloved father in the future, and in a way, they dreaded the thought of knowing how Splinter would have died. It frightened them but at this moment, they couldn’t help but pity their older selves.

Casey’s smile was a little forced but he was happy for his uncles. And he had never known his grandfather so getting to see the man who had raised the family he knew... It was nice.

The door to the medbay carriage opened, Leo poking his head out. All heads snapped to him, the embrace around Splinter pulling away.

“Blue, is everything alright?”

“Well, first things first, he’s stable,” Leo said, still in medic mode. “I stitched and bandaged the wounds. But I need some help getting the right arm off. Don, Future Don? Do you mind?”

Donatello smoothly made his way over and Donnie followed, both disappearing back into the medbay with the young slider.

Casey opened his mouth to call after them but thought better of it, rubbing his arm. Raphael pulled him into a side hug which helped ease the tension in his shoulders a bit.

“I sense there is a story to tell,” Splinter hummed. “Come. We can talk in the living room.”

Keeping some details from the story, for the sake of their younger selves, the future turtles explained what had happened to them prior to arriving here in the present.

Raphael had been the first to die, fatally injured from protecting Leonardo. He was upset that he couldn’t be there for them more but had watched over them with Gram-Gram and the others of the Hamato clan. The snapper was unsure how he was alive again.

Donatello was the second of the brothers to go, infiltrating the Technodrome and then going out in a blaze of glory, taking a good number of the Krang fleet with him. Both of them were sure the softshell would use this second chance at life to cause more problems for people he didn’t like.

Michelangelo gave his life to open the time gateway that brought Casey Jr back to stop the Krang invasion. He went out with hope in his heart, believing wholly that his brother and their student would save the world. The box turtle had much to do now that his life was returned to him.

Mikey clung to the older snapper’s tail while Raph sat in the lap of his older self, smiling in spite of himself because he was being held. He hadn’t experienced this in years, having quickly outgrown Splinter’s physical limits long ago - even as a child. It was strange because Raphael was basically his older self from an apocalypse but still.

“Casey told us stories about you guys,” the smaller box turtle said. “Never told us how you died though.”

Said teenager flushed from ear to ear, tugging at his scarf cape.

“We don’t blame ‘im,” Michelangelo chuckled wearily. “Would you want to know that?”

Mikey thought over the idea before shuddering, “I guess not.”

They looked up as Leo, Donnie and Donatello came in to join them.

“How is he?” Casey asked, back straight and eyes wide.

“Nardo should be fine,” Donatello said. “Angelo, how are the children?”

“Little us are alright,” Michelangelo smiled.

“Okay, yeah, this might be confusing,” Leo cut in. “If you guys are staying, we need a way to tell you guys apart from us.”

“Isn’t calling future us by their full names enough?” Mikey asked.

“It can still be confusing.”

Michelangelo perked up, snapping his fingers.

“How about we use our original names?”

“Original names?” Casey asked.

“Oh, yes, we never told you,” Donatello hummed. “Father originally named us in Japanese as opposed to the colours and names you know us by.”

“Mine is Shuiro,” the older snapper rumbled.

“Mikan,” the floating box turtle added.

“Sumire.” He placed a hand on Casey’s head. “And 'Nardo’s is Aoi.”

“I like it,” Mikey chirped.

“It’ll do,” Leo hummed. “Not sure how future me would take this decision.”

“He has no choice,” Mikan said with an almost eerie smile.

“At least wait until he’s better before going Dr Delicate Touch on him,” Shuiro sighed.

“I vote as soon as the dum-dum wakes,” Sumire deadpanned.

“As the only medic here, I say you guys need to chill,” Leo said. “But I will consider letting future DDT take the reins as long as he keeps it non-physical.”

Mikan averted his eyes, “No promises.”

“Can’t believe an apocalypse did nothing to change how you will act, Miguel,” Leo sighed.

Mikey simply grinned over Shuiro’s shoulder.

There was no change to Aoi’s state over the course of the next three days.

Leo, despite his own feelings for the whole situation, continued to care for the unconscious slider. Casey Jr wanted to see his sensei but was limited to a few hours per day so he wouldn’t hurt himself sitting at the bedside for so long.

Mikan, Shuiro and Sumire settled for sleeping in the living room - at least until they could figure out how to accommodate four adult turtles, one of which being almost eight feet tall. But for now, the three weren’t complaining, especially if Casey’s occasional remarks about living conditions in the apocalypse were to be believed.

One good thing was that the previously dead turtles came back properly nourished and in good health, capable of eating their weight as opposed to Casey when he first started living at the lair. Mikey didn’t mind and having more mouths to help eat the results of the box turtle’s stress baking helped. Mikan lended a hand in cooking for the family.

Shuiro spent time with Raph in the dojo while Sumire worked with Donnie in their shared lab. They got along pretty well, and were quickly attached to their counterparts.

Now, they just had to see how things would play out once Aoi woke up.

“Um, Professor?”

Sumire looked over from his tinkering at the door, Casey lingering just behind it.

“What is it, CJ?”

“Master Le- Leo asked me to come get you. I think he needs some help in the medbay.”

The softshell could only raise a brow at that but stood from his seat. He and Donnie didn’t bother one another unless it was something of utmost importance, though Leo or the others would come in for small chats.

As they neared the medbay, the faint sounds of distant crashing could be heard.

Now, who could be stumbling around so loudly?

“NonononononoNO-!”

A loud thump followed by a squawk more so than a yelp.

“Leo, are you okay?” Casey asked as he barged into the medbay.

Sumire stepped inside and immediately, his eye twitched.

Aoi had evidently woken up and the first thing the big slider did was flop onto his younger self, trapping the smaller turtle on the floor. Leo clawed and squirmed but was hopelessly stuck. His older counterpart - Sumire’s twin - stared at nothing with half-lidded eyes, a short rumbling churr from his chest.

“Mind helping?!” the svelte slider squeaked. “He’s gonna crush me!”

Casey shook himself out of his stupor and immediately knelt down to try and move Aoi. Said slider grumbled but upon catching a whiff of the boy’s scent, he simply pulled the teenager against his shoulder with his remaining arm.

“Aw, come on!” Leo moaned.

Sumire huffed, “Dum-dum, trying to kill your past self by crushing him is not a good idea.”

The softshell knelt down and allowed the metallic arms to extend from the battle shell he wore over his coat, prying Casey from his twin and then hauling the slider up. Aoi pressed his snout into Sumire’s shoulder but pulled back sharply, amber eyes becoming a little more aware.

“Oh, no. I will not be letting you fall all over the floor, especially since you nearly crushed the only other available medic here.”

Leo sat himself up and stretched as Sumire helped his twin back over to the bed.

“Are you okay?” Casey murmured.

“Other than my back, I’m fine, CJ,” Leo replied.

As he moved to pull away, Aoi’s hand grabbed his shoulder, leaning forward to press his head against the softshell’s plastron.

“I suppose the drugs are making you touchy today,” he hummed.

The slider mumbled unintelligibly, tightening his grip a little more.

Sumire sighed and patted his younger twin on the back of the head. He quirked a brow when Aoi bumped his head against his plastron.

“CJ, come here.”

Casey, as expected, made his way over to the softshell’s side.

“Yes, Professor?”

Sumire pushed Aoi back onto the bed, the slider protesting tiredly in low mumbles. He then used his metal arms to push Casey onto his brother’s chest.

“P-Professor?!”

Aoi immediately wrapped his arm around the boy, holding him close and placing his chin on his son’s head.

“Humour him for us,” Sumire said. “I know you like hugs from your papa, dear nephew.”

Casey’s face flushed a bright pink but he didn’t argue.

Leaving the pair be, the tall softshell ushered himself and Leo out of the medbay, if only so the small slider’s dramatic whining about his back would become everyone else’s problem.

Aoi could do with some more sleep until the drugs wore off.

And Sumire absolutely recorded everything.

Chapter Text

The first thing that registered to Aoi was how warm and comfortable he was.

He assumed himself dead - at last - but that was quickly discarded at the pressure of someone smaller than himself on his plastron. The familiar scent of smoke and ash from the battlefield clashed with the more overpowering smells of recently used antiseptics, and the sound of machines humming. His hand prickled slightly. The usual weight on the right side of his body was gone, his prosthetic missing.

With a low groan, he forced his eyes open, squinting at the bright overhead lights. Someone shifted on top of him and he quickly recognised the voice that followed.

“Dad, you’re awake!”

“Casey…?” he rasped, turning his gaze down to look.

There he was, his star pupil and baby boy. As his eyes focused, he noticed that Casey’s slicked back hair was no longer grimy but fluffy and soft like he had just finished having a shower; his cheeks were full, no longer gaunt from malnutrition and a desperate diet; armour gone from his person - though he did notice that the hockey weapon of his was leaning on a chair nearby, likely with the aforementioned armour. In all, Casey looked cleaner and healthier than ever, and he couldn’t have been happier if not dumbstruck.

“H-hang on.” Casey hurried to hop off him. “I’ll go get the others.”

He watched as his son vanished through the doors.

Wait…

Looking around, a creeping horror as well as a long-thought dead yearning crawled up his chest to seize his heart. The pale walls, the machines, the beds neatly arranged with shelves and cabinets fully stocked, the turtle anatomy poster on the far wall alongside a bunch of stickers.

He was in their lair’s medbay.

Then it all came back to him.

His supposed final stand, falling, a clear night sky, warm hands...

A sharp throb pulled a hiss from him. He turned his head down and with his remaining arm, he poked the fresh bandages around his midsection.

Muffled footsteps approached the carriage and he blinked at the young slider that walked in with Casey. He knew that face, had seen it for years in the last family photo they had taken together. His past self stared right back with unreadable eyes.

Following on the heels of that, he noticed that Casey was about the same age as him, and was just as... small. Spirits, the other slider was just a kid. No matter how long he had directed his ire towards the grinning face of his past self in the photo, he couldn’t find it in himself to do anything but marvel at the boy.

Did he used to be so untouched, so innocent of the horrors of war?

“Hello to you too, peepaw,” Leo drawled.

His brow furrowed. Peepaw?

“FYI, you’ve been out for about three days, and I need to check you over,” the young slider continued. “The Dons are outside with a list of questions until I let them come in, after making sure you don’t pass out within five minutes.”

“...”

“Casey, you sure this is the great leader of the Resistance ?” Leo asked with an unimpressed stare.

“He just needs time to adjust,” Casey huffed. “Like the others.”

Others? What others? What did Casey mean by that?

“Uh-”

Leo held up a finger just inches from his mouth and got to work: running his hands over his midsection, applying pressure every so often - which was unwarranted - to previously wounded areas, scribbling on his clipboard. He didn’t mind the lack of chatter, eyes unexpectedly drawn to just how young his past self looked, seeing the roots of who he had become in the apocalypse already there in this identical teenager.

The slider checked his tongue and with a frown, he added more notes to the rest. Leo turned to Casey.

“Let Don in first,” he said. “Keep your uncle outside until I say so.”

His son nodded and in the next minute, the lanky teenage version of his twin walked in, face set in a bored deadpan like usual. As he stared, he noticed that his past self and Donnie were about the same height but the softshell was close to overtaking the slider in height. Those red eyes sent an invisible knife into his heart and he couldn’t hold that gaze for long, finding more interest in the blanket that covered his legs.

Wait. Uncle?

“Greetings, Future ‘Nardo,” Donnie started, “I’m sure you are quite confused about how you got here, and so are we. And given that we have little answers from the others that had arrived with you, perhaps you can provide more insight.”

Others. That was the second time they had alluded to there being other people - possibly other survivors from the apocalypse? But that was impossible. Mikey’s gateway had only stayed open long enough for Casey to go through. There was no way.

“Okay, peepaw looks like his brain broke,” Leo hummed.

“He isn’t that old,” Casey protested weakly.

“Yeah, yeah, just bring him in already. Let’s see if he can unbreak future me.”

He watched as Casey moved to the door and spoke in hushed whispers to someone outside. A tall figure made their way in and...

Everything was still. Everything felt far away. Everything except the sudden lump in his chest.

No.

It couldn’t be.

He had to be dreaming, or hallucinating.

Red eyes, narrowed and framed by deep set wrinkles, under an achingly familiar visor pierced into his own.

Was he floating?

Why did everything feel like it was spinning?

Someone grabbed his hand, pressed it against something warm. There was a touch to the top of his head, a familiar touch that he had learnt to live the last few years without.

“Breathe.”

The deep baritone of a voice modulator, partly reflecting the owner’s true vocals, was calming.

But he couldn’t believe it so easily.

It wasn’t the first time he had awoken with ghosts in his eyes.

He clung to that touch regardless.

“In, out. In, out.”

There was little else he could do but obey.

Slowly, but surely, the crushing grip on his chest released and his gulps for air became less desperate. The steady thumping of a heartbeat was beneath his palm, a hand stroking his carapace, careful of all the cracks he knew were there.

Bale. He was being comforted by someone in his bale, the fading scents of ash and fire but they were the smells of the battlefield he had known for years.

“There you are.”

He stilled.

Then, with what little courage he had left, he looked up into the face of his big brother, his very own twin - the very softshell that had been at his side through the war until his final sacrifice.

His eyes burned and his vision began to swim.

Drawn brows pinched but the amused red irises made his heart flutter.

“Years without me, and you still remain as dramatic as ever, Aoi,” his brother huffed.

Aoi chuckled pathetically, “That how we’re doing this? Going back to colours for names?”

“It was Mikan’s idea,” Sumire shrugged.

He should have figured as much.

A quiet clearing of the throat had him turning his attention to his younger self and Donnie who was looking over his question list.

“If you two are settled,” Leo said, “how about we start before Don comes up with more questions?”

In retrospect, his clinging to Sumire hadn’t helped his image as the Resistance leader. But that wasn’t really important now, was it? Because the invasion had been stopped in this timeline, by all of them, especially Leo.

It was a bit of a shock for him to see the faint scars, freshly healed, of what the kid had gone through that fateful day. And the shadows of that pain still clung to both him and Donnie, no doubt Raph and Mikey too.

There were some heavy steps outside the medbay at some point. He must have flinched as Sumire’s arm tightened against his shell, though their younger counterparts paid it no mind.

“Okay, all done,” Leo declared. “You’re clear to leave the ‘bay but not on your own, unless you want to pull those stitches.”

Aoi winced. He knew all too well that would result in staples instead of more stitches, especially if the medic was cranky - he had been said medic before the war. His nod appeased Leo well enough, though Donnie didn’t look convinced.

“Well, we might as well get this over with,” Sumire said, moving to help Aoi up onto his feet. “Up you go.”

His head admittedly spun a bit as he stood, leaning on the tall softshell for support. But he would be fine. He had experienced worse over the past two decades.

“A certain someone has been anxious to see you.”

Aoi blinked.

“And no, I don’t mean Junior.”

Casey had a smile he knew well: the kind that was barely restrained with some kind of emotion. He had years to read his son and deduced it was a good smile, nothing like the weary or pained ones back in the apocalypse.

His steps were slow but no one complained, surprisingly. Leo and Donnie exited with Casey ahead of them. Sumire tapped his snout and Aoi closed his eyes, trusting his brother - even if he still had doubts this was real - to hold him upright.

More familiar scents came, the same fiery ash of his apocalyptic bale as well as the young fresher smells of their past selves.

“Okay, peepaw, time to open your eyes,” Leo said, voice oddly soft. “Shuiro’s been waiting.”

Aoi’s eyes shot open, and there he was: the giant snapping turtle he remembered, eyepatch over his right eye, scarred to hell and back. His legs were so close to buckling as he stared into that sky blue iris. He must have looked like a mess as Shuiro’s face softened into such concern he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“Little bro,” he rumbled, opening his arms.

Sumire passed him over and in a blink, Aoi was cradled against a warm plastron, embraced in a hug he thought he would never experience again - one he didn’t deserve.

An ugly sound came from somewhere - was it him again? - and Shuiro nuzzled the top of his head, deep churring vibrating from a large chest. It quickly dispersed his fear - grief, regret? - and his entire body felt warm for the first time in so long.

Somehow, it felt more empty around them, less people about. He could have sworn there were more before.

Shuiro stroked his carapace, holding him gently but tight.

“I’m proud of you.”

He choked on another sob.

“It’s okay. Raph’s here now.”

There was a gentle swaying. Shuiro was rocking him?

“We’re all here, Lee,” his baby brother murmured.

“ Anata wa hitori janai ,” Shuiro rumbled.

The tears came faster, overflowing, sobs quiet and gasping.

Aoi wept.

By the time Splinter came by to check on his older sons, he was greeted with a sight he would never get tired of, no matter how old said turtles were.

Aoi was cradled in Shuiro’s lap, fast asleep after hours of weeping - judging by the faint trails on his cheeks; Sumire leaned against the snapper’s arm, relaxed in a light nap; Mikan perched on the oldest’s shoulders, arms crossed atop his head, resting his face upon them with soft snores; Shuiro looked content, more than the past few days, now that all his brothers were there in reach; Casey was curled up atop Aoi’s plastron, careful of the slider’s injuries.

He couldn’t resist taking a picture.

April would appreciate it, he should think.

But for now, he would let them rest.

They all earned it.

Chapter Text

When Aoi woke up after the deepest sleep he ever had in a long time, he spent a good few minutes to an hour staring at the atrium ceiling - at least, that was how it felt to him. Despite the persistent dull ache of his side and body, he was surrounded by the warmth and scent of his family. His apocalyptic family who had died from his mistakes and orders, alive again and all around him in a time that was not their own.

Now that he had the time to process the insanity that was his not-afterlife, in the safe arms of his biggest brother after a dreadful eternity without him, Aoi had many questions.

Shuiro looked older than when he had died, as in his actual age if he had managed to survive as long as Aoi himself had. The same could be observed in Sumire, however Mikan remained as elderly as he was at the end, so whatever brought them back could not reverse the side effects of ninpo overuse. And that was not to mention the question of how they all came back from the dead, and ended up in this saved timeline. It was not Mikan’s doing if he recalled the brief conversation he overheard, when he had been a sobbing mess in Shuiro’s arms. He was certain that Sumire would get right to work on research, data collection, and making solutions. Aoi wondered briefly if he should warn their younger selves.

“Morning, peepaw.”

He turned his gaze from the ceiling to the smaller teenage version of himself. Leo had a little amused smirk and warm tea in hand - how long had it been since he saw that unicorn mug? For what he went through, according to Casey Junior, the young blue ninja had less scars to show for it. But then again, perhaps being bonafide super soldiers saved Leo’s life and Draxum did something unintentionally good for them this way.

“Morning,” he replied quietly. He was not acknowledging the ‘peepaw’ comment.

“Have a nice sleep? Because those eyebags of yours have bags of their own,” Leo hummed. He sipped from the mug. “That, and the double Raph-chasms.”

“How flattering,” Aoi drawled neutrally. “I slept fine.”

A yawn came from above him and he knew Mikan had woken up, hearing the little cracks as the box turtle stretched his unnaturally old bones. Casey shifted on his plastron but remained blissfully asleep.

“Good morning, Mikan,” Leo grinned. Oh, so he was being polite to Mikan and not his own future self? Aoi honestly could not blame the young slider - he did not make a good first impression.

“Morning, Leo,” his mystic brother replied. “What time is it?”

“About 3PM.” Unusually early, it seemed.

“Okay then, might as well get started on breakfast,” Mikan murmured. Aoi watched his brother float up off Shuiro’s shoulders.

He felt the need to chime in, “Do you remember how to use a stocked kitchen?”

“Oh, yeah, right. Casey told us you guys ate leaves and rats,” Leo winced behind his mug.

“We didn’t run out of ingredients immediately,” Mikan huffed. He turned a glare onto Aoi. “I’m simply rusty with my gourmet cooking skills.”

“Right, sorry,” he said unapologetically.

“Oh, and Aoi? Don’t think Casey didn’t tell us about what you did.” What was he referring to? “We will be having a talk about the time gateway thing after breakfast.”

Oh. Oh, he was referring to when he threw Casey into the portal, and how he did not follow his son through it.

Mikan gave him a terrifyingly bright smile before disappearing out of sight, flying towards the lair’s kitchen. Leo had the nerve to snicker and Aoi wished he had the energy to punch a teenager.

Breakfast passed far too quickly.

Everyone else was clearly familiar enough with each other for the early meal to be comfortable, though Aoi opted to remain silent throughout the whole thing. His injury had been bad enough that Shuiro refused to let him move around on his own, and Leo - as the only other medic - had betrayed him in agreeing to it. He was not keen on being treated like glass but he tolerated it for Casey’s sake. His son happily eating right next to him brought a smile to his face.

But now?

After a check up from Leo, he was trapped in Shuiro’s lap and being stared down by his entire bale, even Junior. He could tell the younger turtles were watching all of this from just around the corner. Was this even fair?

“So!” Mikan began with a clap. He looked suspiciously calm. “Does anyone want to go first?”

“Given that we will be restricting this to verbal only, I do not see any reason to stop Dr. Delicate Touch from going first,” Sumire intoned.

Forsaken by his own twin.

“Good!”

Aoi swallowed silently as Mikan turned boiling purple eyes onto him. There was an agonising moment of silence that followed.

“YOU STUPID, SELFLESS DUMBASS! I DID NOT RIP MYSELF INTO FUCKING SPARKLES FOR YOU TO DIE RIGHT AFTER ME! WHO SAID YOU COULD THROW YOUR SON INTO MY GATEWAY AND DIE BY YOURSELF, HUH?”

Aoi had flinched back so hard his head audibly bonked against Shuiro’s plastron.

“You were supposed to have gone with him! I wanted my only big brother left to live with the only kid we could save! You weren’t meant to die by yourself, you idiot!”

“It was a poor decision to leave your child alone,” Sumire added. “Casey Junior never knew a world before the apocalypse. He was ill-equipped to navigate New York pre-devastation.”

“You were damn lucky it worked,” Mikan huffed. “You were so lucky that CJ was trained so well.”

Aoi’s head had partially sunk into his shell, half hidden by his scarf. His gaze fell to Casey Junior who stared back with a painfully lost face.

“I watched you die,” he muttered. His heart grew cold with guilt. “I didn’t know what to do when I came here. I needed you, and you weren’t there.”

His son, his precious baby boy, had tears in his eyes and was seconds from crying again.

“I wanted my Dad.”

Oh, that whimper stabbed his very being. It hurt so much more than the loss of his arm, of being the one to start the apocalypse and end the world.

Aoi, as much as he did not deserve it, lifted his only arm to offer a hug. And Casey wasted no time in falling against his plastron, curling up in his lap and clinging to him. He placed his hand on the back of his son’s head, stroking the clean and fluffy hair with no small measure of guilt and love. This child was his entire world and he was so sorry that he was the reason for those tears.

“You worried us, Aoi,” Shuiro rumbled gently. “When we found you on that rooftop, seeing all the blood on you, I was so scared.”

He opened his mouth to speak but found he could not, closing his beak again with shameful eyes directed back to the floor. A flick to the forehead startled him into meeting Sumire’s red gaze, taken aback by the softness in those red eyes.

“You were a dum-dum, a selfless moron. And as much as we need to fix that martyr complex of yours, alas, we are more relieved that you are alive with us.”

“Been talking to Dr. Feelings?” Aoi whispered.

“As surprising as it is, yes,” Sumire shrugged. “I cannot deny the wisdom of our dear brother.”

“Did he hunt you down in the Hamato afterlife?”

“You bet I did!” Mikan grinned.

Aoi chuckled, and felt his heart grow warmer when Casey joined in with a little laugh of his own. He blinked when a large hand stroked his own head and he was half tempted to pull away, and lean into the touch. Was he so touch starved that a head pat was doing this to him? Sadly, the answer was yes.

And Shuiro had the last word.

“Oh, and Aoi? Raph is putting you on house arrest.”

Honestly, fair.

“I cannot believe I have a grandchild!”

Casey Junior giggled as Splinter held his face with a teary smile, eyes so proud and full of love. Even with the time the future boy had spent here, finding out he was a grandson obviously got to the old rat.

It did not mean Splinter did not ground Aoi, but his father - gosh, he was so short and warm - had given him the best hug and told him how proud he was. This hurt so much even if it made him feel so wonderful inside. The apocalypse really ruined him.

And like that, Casey Junior was on the way to being spoiled absolutely rotten - even more than before. Aoi could not deny his son hugs or praise or anything, his boy deserved the world. He could not care enough if Leo was watching him with a face of pure shock or if Sumire was smugly recording him being a complete dad. All his pettiness had been erased with the Krang and the apocalypse.

Most of it, anyway.

He was not allowed to train or do anything. Leo continued to threaten him with the stapler, and he could not say no to Casey’s sad face. His brothers happily carried or floated him around the lair and he did not tempt a second round with death by trying to move on his own. But at least the younger turtles were nice enough to give him some forms of entertainment, mainly in shenanigans but it worked.

Aoi did not argue whenever they pointed out how tired he looked, and they did so multiple times. He had been carrying the Resistance on his back for years and had done so alone for some time before he was supposed to have died. The sad eyes from everyone made him feel unsettled. Angry? Frustrated? He was not sure.

The blankets and warm tea was appreciated though. He forgot how comfortable this was, and wondered how he lasted so long without it. Even with his own reservations and feeling less than deserving of this, he would not deny his family this - whatever their need to coddle him was meant to be.

A turtle could not make a dying decision for hope of a better world without being judged, it would seem.

Admittedly, after Sumire pointed out how frequently he threw himself into harm’s way, it might be a problem. Keyword: might.

“You’ve been staring at that chart for an unusual amount of time.”

Leo exhaled with a furrowed brow, still fixated on his clipboard. Or rather, what was on it. He could tell Donnie was giving him a curious stare.

“It’s just odd,” he muttered. “Even with what we know of them, this isn’t right.”

“Elaborate, ‘Nardo.”

He held the chart out so Donnie could examine it as well.

“Compare this with the one we took the first day. All the little scratches and stuff are healing as fast as they could, considering he’s malnourished and sleep deprived as heck. But look at that massive side wound.”

He pointed to the injury in question on the chart, Donnie’s eyes flitting between it and his copy of the first scan on his tablet.

“That is… concerning,” his twin said. “It has barely healed at all.”

Leo glanced at the medbay doors, hearing the muffled sounds of Casey Junior laughing with Mikey and Mikan. He had a bad feeling about this.

“I don’t like this. I’ll obviously keep checking on him and I hope I’m wrong, but…” Leo paused before continuing. “If there’s no improvement in the next week, we need to find out what’s wrong with it.”

“That is doable,” Donnie frowned. “I too hope you are wrong. But given how frequently you are right about things, and how often something bad happens to us…”

Leo nodded.

Later, he found himself staring at Aoi during movie night, the older slider half-asleep against Sumire’s shoulder. He saw the dark tired circles that were often hidden by a deeper blue mask, saw the slight paleness to lime scales and the placidness that could be mistaken for low energy.

He really hoped he was wrong.

He was right.

He was painfully right as he stared down at a chart where that side wound, the one that he had stitched together with his own hands, remained unchanged.

Leo raised his comm with a heavy heart.

“Guys, family meeting in the medbay. We have a problem.”

Chapter Text

It was no surprise that the apocalypse bale knew about it, given that they were almost always together. And it was a mercy that Aoi was asleep when the meeting was called, though Shuiro had to stay just outside the medbay due to his size.

Mikan sat on the bed, the injured slider’s head in his lap, fingers smoothing over his big brother’s face. Sumire stood tall beside them with an unreadable expression, Shuiro peering worriedly in through the doors. And the addition of Leo’s brothers with Splinter, April and Casey made the space very crowded. Said future boy was holding his father’s hand with a quiet nervousness, no doubt scared and worried - it had been a constant thing to see regarding Aoi and the apocalypse family.

“With the scans taken between Donnie and Sumire, we can rule out anything physical causing this,” Leo said. “And I don’t think the… Krang can curse people.”

“No, they certainly cannot,” Sumire confirmed. “Though perhaps we should scan for mystic irregularities within his body. I recall Draxum mentioning that in our case, mystic energy is integral to our overall health.”

“Ah, alright. Don, Sumire, can you both check that for us? And Mikan, can you parse out mystic stuff or is that not your field?”

“I can,” Mikan said quietly. “I’ve not done so in a while, but I can feel deeper to get a better idea of what’s going on.”

Leo took a step back to let the purple softshells do their thing, and they all waited with bated breath. Splinter was just next to Casey now, patting his grandson’s elbow. Aoi’s breathing had a slight tremble to it, he had not noticed that detail before.

“His mystic energy is dangerously low,” Sumire frowned. “Only just enough to sustain him while at rest, and that is a generous estimate.”

“The wound is pulsing with it. His body is indeed trying to heal it but the flow is not at all like it should be, according to compiled data,” Donnie added.

Leo frowned and nodded to Mikan. The older box turtle closed his eyes, both hands on each side of Aoi’s head, a soft orange glow enveloping his arms as he probed and searched. He could not help clenching his hands into fists as Mikan’s face changed from calm to confused to concerned, eyes flying open and a hand shooting up to cover his mouth.

“W-what’s wrong?” Mikey squeaked.

Shuiro could be heard shuffling, clearly worried like Raph always would be for his brothers.

“Michael,” Sumire called. “Report. What did you find?”

Mikan turned his gaze to the older twin and Leo hated the cold that rooted itself in his blood, seeing the fear in usually serene purple eyes.

“His ninpo. It’s dying.”

Immediately, a collective flinch passed through all of the family.

“What do you mean his ninpo is dying?” Shuiro barked, voice trembling.

“I could barely find it, but when I did…” Mikan fixed his gaze back onto his sleeping brother, the peaceful expression only eliciting more distress for the box turtle. “It’s embers, not even a flame anymore. It… it’s so small, and hollow.”

“What else?” the future softshell prompted. Leo could see emotion building in the tense line of Sumire’s shoulders.

“I think his body is draining his ninpo to make more mystic energy. His reserves are all dry, there is nothing else to draw from. And there’s something foreign in the wound, faint but it’s not supposed to be there.”

“Leo,” Sumire said sharply. “I respectfully ask you that we reopen the wound for examination.”

His voice sounded angry, and Leo did not doubt there was rage burning in the older softshell. But he had a feeling it was also fear, a deep worry for his brother.

“Yeah, we need to see if we missed anything,” he agreed reluctantly. Leo turned to address the others. “I only need Sumire and Mikan here so everyone else needs to wait outside. We’ll update you when we can.”

“Please,” Casey pleaded. “Please help him.”

“We will,” Leo promised. He placed a hand on the future boy’s shoulder. “You keep everyone else company, especially Shuiro. Trust me, okay?”

A nod was his reply and in short order, everyone not needed in the medbay shuffled out. Many worried and scared glances flitted to Aoi in passing, and Leo contemplated using staples to reclose the wound as punishment for all the scares. But that could wait for later. He had to save the dumb slider first - he sincerely hoped he would not end up like this as an adult.

Leo took a deep breath and got the morphine ready, hearing Sumire meticulously remove the bandages and gauze. He knew better than to ask Mikan anything at the moment. Later, he decided. All else could wait for later.

.

.

.

.

.

His side hurt more than it did before when Aoi woke again.

He had not remembered falling asleep. But it was not the first time his body had decided he needed a nap. And last he could recall, he had not been swaddled into a blanket burrito when he fell asleep.

The warmth was nice, and he was surrounded by family. He had long since lost the ability to sense their ninpo but their scents provided comfort enough. Aoi nuzzled into the soft blankets, a quiet churr bubbling from his chest. A steady heartbeat picked up just by his tympanum and he knew it to be Shuiro. The snapper must have been holding him again.

“Aoi…”

His brow furrowed at the waver in his big brother’s voice. He blinked open heavy eyes and stared up at Shuiro’s face. There were tears and so much worry, a vice grip on his heart to match the rush of concern. He hissed as he wrestled his arm free from the blankets, ignoring the twinge in his side and the pained whine Shuiro made, lifting his hand up to wipe at the tears he could reach.

“What’s wrong?” he rasped.

Shuiro just held him closer to his chest, cradling him like he was actually about to break into pieces. Like Aoi was somehow a precious thing he could not bear to lose.

He registered warm hands taking his own, turning his attention to Mikan. The box turtle had such a face of sorrow that Aoi sorely wished to comfort him, however he could not find the energy to move or speak as his baby brother tenderly pressed his face against his limp knuckles. There was no sign of Sumire so his twin was either hard at work or...

“Did something happen?” Aoi tried to ask. This made the two with him still and silent. “Guys…”

“Sumire is with Donnie. Me and Shuiro wanted to keep an eye on you, after Leo let us take you from the medbay.”

The medbay?

“You’ve been out for three days,” Mikan continued. He tightened his grip on Aoi’s hand. “You’ll be okay. We’re not letting anything happen to you again.”

“What? Mikan-”

“Something’s hurting you,” Shuiro rumbled. He pressed his snout to the top of Aoi’s head. “And I can’t fight it for you. That scares me.”

Aoi took a minute to process this. So his wound not healing was actually a thing, not him imagining it. His condition was not good, worrying enough that his family was beside themselves with fear for him once again. And if he could guess right, he was on borrowed time - dying, so to speak.

“How long do I have?”

His big brother flinched while Mikan lifted his head from Aoi’s hand.

“About five days, maybe less. And that’s if you rest and don’t strain yourself.”

That sounded like a tall order, for someone like Aoi. But in the face of his very scared and worried family, he would try.

“No promises,” he said with a sheepish smile.

“We know,” Mikan sighed.

He wondered what Sumire was up to.

Even after two weeks, having an older version of himself in his lab was surreal. He would savour all this more if not for the pressing issue of a dying Aoi.

Donnie was not an expert in mystics, he still did not fully comprehend nor understand how mysticism worked. He worked with numbers and evidence and code, not emotions and magic - things that could not be explained with a graph. And perhaps that made the older softshell’s skill in crafting mystic tech all the more incredible, making him desire to learn to do the same. The pursuit of science was a noble thing, and necessary for the advancement of his tech.

Their latest collaboration, among others, was a bracelet crafted with mystic metal that had been acquired somehow. It was for Aoi and would absorb ambient mystic energy, however it was only a temporary fix - to give them more time to find a way to save him. Losing his ninpo could damn Aoi to eternal limbo, never to join the Hamato afterlife, or disappearing entirely due to how closely tied to their souls it was.

“All trials have been passed and our mystic bracelet should be good to go,” Sumire grinned. “Come, my fellow genius. Let us give this to my dum-dum twin.”

He ran out ahead and came to a stop near the huddled trio, Shuiro and Mikan perking up with surprise. His eyes caught on how slow Aoi reacted to his and Sumire’s arrival.

“Sumire? Did you find anything?” Shuiro asked.

“Research is in progress, however! To give us as much time as possible, my older self and I collaborated in making this!”

He gestured to the bracelet that Sumire proudly displayed on his palm.

“A bracelet meticulously crafted from mystic metal that absorbs ambient mystic energy that can help a certain someone’s low energy levels.”

Sumire moved to Aoi’s side, leaning down as he took his twin’s hand from Mikan. The older softshell was almost jarringly gentle as he clasped the bracelet onto the slider’s wrist. Donnie did not experience a quote unquote mind explosion when he saw Sumire touch his snout tenderly to his brother’s own - practically nose-to-nose!

“You’ll be alright as long as you’re with us, you hear?”

There was no verbal reply but Sumire seemed satisfied with whatever answer he got from Aoi. He pivoted on his heel and led the way back to the lab. Donnie eagerly followed, feeling so light when the older softshell spoke up on the way.

“Well done, Donatello, excellent work. How about we get started on data collection now?”

Anything for more validation from a parent-aged adult.

The lair geniuses had definitely bought them much needed time.

Mikan gladly released small waves of mystic energy into the air around them, especially when Aoi became visibly less sluggish thanks to the bracelet. Dulled brown had brightened back to a honey-amber, closer to the suns he knew to be his brother’s eyes.

“Shuiro, I can feed myself.”

The snapper simply smiled and held the spoonful of soup up to the slider’s beak. And Aoi, weary and guilt ridden Aoi, could not deny his big brother this little thing. Mikan found joy in seeing his blue brother humour Shuiro, obediently accepting the soup.

Since their arrival to the past, each of them had made some changes to their attire. Supplies were scarce in the apocalypse and what they wore prioritised function and practicality over style - though they still pulled it off and looked cool, if their younger selves’ reactions were any indication. A wash for their clothing was definitely in order at the start, especially for Aoi who might not have even died and still carried the fresh horror of the battlefield with him.

Shuiro was too large for any clothes in the lair and had stuck with his tattered cloak, beads still tied to his mask. Sumire had been too focused on science and all that to change his clothes but perhaps once a certain slider was out of danger, he may join them in getting fresh comforts. Mikan had chosen to hold onto his mystical cloak but craved large clothes, such as those that belonged to his big brothers. Aoi had been fitted with robes they ‘borrowed’ from Draxum to help keep him warm and comfortable, taking some strain off his not-quite-healing body and because he honestly deserved this. He got to keep his scarf cape because Mikan knew it held many memories and was one of the few things Aoi had allowed himself to have in the apocalypse.

When asked, Mikan was happy to hear that Aoi would like a sweater after this whole debacle was taken care of. The slider was the last one standing at the end of the world. And Shuiro was more than happy to care for Aoi after so long of being unable to, eager to give the former Leader of the Resistance a long-overdue break.

In fact, there had been more of those tired quiet smiles in the past two weeks here than the last year in the apocalypse. Not the wide grins Mikan knew were for performance and appearance, to mask all that weighed on his big brother’s shoulders. The shy upturned lips, a reserved love in the line of his jaw and cheeks. Smiles that had vanished as they became teenagers, ones that Mikan found more precious as time passed.

“What’re you smiling about, Mikan?”

He turned to Aoi, his blue brother lovingly surrounded by pillows and blankets on the couch. Leo had dropped off a stack of comics for his older self to read before heading out of the lair. The living room projector played TV shows nearby, the occasional chuckle or noise from Splinter. It was a comfy space and the younger counterpart of their father had no issues with them being here, so long as they did not disturb his shows - though he did not spend as long on the recliner as they remembered. It likely had to do with the almost invasion that they managed to get details about, after much struggle with the younger turtles.

Mikan understood trauma a little too much at his age. But some bandaids needed to be ripped off.

“Mikan?” Aoi asked again.

He gave his brother a warm grin and patted his leg.

“Just appreciating the peace,” Mikan said. “And thinking about how I missed your smiles.”

Aoi huffed with a shake of his head, splaying the open comic on his lap to poke him in retribution for sappy feelings. But it was much weaker than it would have been years ago. They definitely needed a family talk sometime, once they dealt with this whole situation.

“I’ll be glad when this is all sorted out,” Aoi murmured. He fiddled with his scarf. “I would honestly ask to do chores right now.”

“That bored?”

“You know I hate sitting back, little brother.”

Mikan was more than aware of Aoi’s dislike for being helpless, “lazy” after years of carrying the Resistance on his back, the leader who could not rest and had endless work to do in an ever active base of survivors. It was hard to break years of habit, and even then, the slider found comfort in busying his hands like anyone else.

“We’ll have to see if Leo clears you for folding laundry at least,” Mikan teased.

“I can’t just sweep the floors instead?” Aoi grumbled.

“Nope. You’re not allowed to exert yourself right now.”

“Sweeping is not even that hard-”

Mikan snorted and muffled his own chuckles into his hand as Aoi turned his head away with a rare pout, a half-irritated huff alongside it. But the slider really could use some fresh air, having been confined to the lair for the entire time he had been here.

The younger Hamatos would certainly not agree, especially Leo due to medic obligations - among other reasons. So the only option would be to sneak Aoi out, and he needed to discuss it secretly with Shuiro and Sumire. They were apocalyptic veterans in a world that was more peaceful than the life they had led for the past decade at least. In all likelihood, Sumire needed to stay behind to keep doing his thing.

It had been a while but Mikan would need to abuse his youngest brother privileges once again.

The two oldest turtles were less than pleased when Mikan suggested it. However, after some deliberation and persuasive puppy eyes, they relented as Aoi really needed the fresh air. They were only granted a few hours out for recreation, and must return at the first sign of danger - Aoi’s well-being was the priority.

Shuiro carried his slider brother with one arm, the leader once again dressed in apocalypse garb and partly covered with the snapper’s cloak. Mikan perched himself on his biggest brother’s free shoulder as they easily slipped out of the inhabited subway. Utilising their ninja skills, it was all too easy and much more relaxing now that there were no parasitic aliens hunting them down.

“Think we can stop by Run of the Mill?” Aoi suggested. “Just to grab a slice? I have had nothing but soup since I got here.”

“Definitely!” Shuiro grinned. “Fearless deserves a pizza.”

“Wonder how Hueso’s gonna react to us.” Mikan chirped.

The slider shrugged, holding onto Shuiro’s cloak as they bounded across the rooftops. He was nervous to see another face that had been lost during the apocalypse and his brothers likely knew it. But they thankfully said nothing about his more recent quietness. It was nice to not be so loud and be heard.

All three landed in that familiar alleyway with the mural they had not seen in years. Mikan made the open gesture for them and in they stepped, stunned with nostalgia at the decorative and warm interior of the restaurant. Aoi rubbed his eyes to clear the tears that had gathered in his eyes. The music was just as they remembered it and the quiet bustle of patrons and staff was a strange comfort.

Hueso was taken aback momentarily by them, even as they gave him teary smiles. But as professional as ever, he collected himself and directed them to a booth - the family table the Hamatos always reserved since they began eating here. It had been a long time since they had pizza and Aoi had no problem getting plain cheese, he honestly just wanted something besides soup.

And by pizza supreme in the sky, all three of them were in tears as they took the first bite in a long time. This was good, really good. And Mikan was so pleased to see Aoi relaxed and enjoying himself, making quiet jokes with them and even reminiscing together. He could see the big brother he loved in those golden eyes again, the compassionate slider that had hidden behind the serious resistance leader.

They needed this, and Sumire needed to join them after Aoi was cured of his mystic ailment.

Then they could truly enjoy this peace that they more than earned.

Chapter Text

Waking up after being dead for less than a week was an experience. Time was odd in the Hamato afterlife but a certain Commander O’Neil had seen far too much insanity to question it. And what a welcome she found herself with: on a rooftop and the view of a changed but familiar skyline, a minute to gain her bearings before her idiot younger brothers skid onto the very roof she stood upon.

And not even the younger versions, given this must be the past. No, it was her much larger, adult, apocalypse veteran brothers. Three of them, anyway.

The red masked snapper with his massive cloak and beads, tail lashing with alarm as they came to a stop. A mystic box turtle as elderly as she remembered lashing out at whatever was following them with glowing chains. Her leader, a certain selfless slider with a billowing scarf, held protectively to his older brother’s side and directing the battle.

Oh, they were fighting right now. Okay.

Pulling out a long-loved tech bo, she leapt into the fray and smacked a good few enemies that tried to land on their rooftop. They weren’t Krang but she did not care to recognise who was pursuing her brothers.

“April?”

She turned and gave her idiot boys a grin, heart softening as she saw their teary faces.

“Hey, boys. Still getting into trouble, I see.”

“Yeah,” the mystic warrior laughed. “We didn’t mean to but ya know.”

Oh, didn’t she know all too well.

“As nice as it is to see you again, we should head back to the lair before they notice we’re gone.”

“So this is the past. Well, you heard our leader.”

Maybe there, in the safety of the underground, she could get some answers and catch up on everything she had missed.

.

.

.

Of all the nicknames she could go by, Riley was not the worst. And she could not say no when Casey Junior was the one who suggested it. How that boy had changed since she last saw him, stumbling along with his injured father.

It said a lot that she was not surprised that Aoi was in bad shape. His ninpo was literally almost gone and his mystic energy was abysmally low, his side wound still as fresh as it was when she died. That did not mean he was spared from a much deserved lecture that she had been holding in for months, and a tearful hug.

Leo definitely knew they had snuck out and grumbled as he checked Aoi and then her, hands nowhere as calloused as her apocalypse brother’s but still gentle and steady. Riley saw fit to remark how impressive she thought it was, how even as a young turtle, her blue brother was so skilled at maintaining his composure and getting a task done. Leo had made a sound at that and quickly finished up, scampering away with a noticeable stammer that was honestly cute to hear.

“So, we’re just waiting for the Purples to find a cure, huh.”

“Hopefully, but I could ask Mikey to call Draxum over for extra help. We could use the knowledge he has,” Mikan hummed.

“I’d rather not,” Aoi interjected.

“Considering it’s your life on the line, you’ll have to deal with it, Blue,” Riley chuckled. “And it would be great for us to not lose you now that we’re all together again.”

The slider pulled a face when she pressed an obnoxiously loud but loving kiss to his wrinkled forehead.

“You’ll have to suffer being pampered by us until then,” she teased.

Aoi let out a long-suffering sigh but did not protest, feigning annoyance as he relaxed against Shuiro’s plastron. His frown fell into a small smile when the snapper churred and hugged him close. Mikan snickered from his cross-legged position just next to them.

“Tell you what, once you’re all better, we can spar again to see if you still got it,” Riley offered.

“Sure, I’ll think about it.”

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.

.

She couldn’t fathom how she had survived so many years without coffee or hot water. Yes, there was the apocalypse and a war against genocidal aliens, but Riley never wanted to go another day without sweet, sweet caffeine and a nice hot bath. That, and her veteran brothers who were never far.

Admittedly, she was just as bad as them about sticking close, within earshot at the very least. Seeing Splinter again had been an ordeal and props to him for dealing with it so calmly - even if she did hear him talking in hushed panic to Donnie or Leo. Whenever there was trouble, it was usually the twins who caused it or could fix it. That much had become apparent again very quickly.

Jupiter Jim Pluto Vacation Four was playing on the projector wall and while still her favourite of the series, she found her gaze drifting to her brothers and nephew. Aoi was once again bundled up in a thick comforter and sleeping soundly in Shuiro’s lap; the large snapper watched the screen while his hand continued to idly stroke the slider’s head. On a beanbag next to her, Mikan was flopped over Sumire’s lap while the softshell - face unobscured for the first time in so long - idly made notes on ninpo screens between their favourite scenes. Casey rested against Shuiro’s legs, head on the comforter that swaddled his father.

A loud sound had her turning her head towards the stairway leading out of the TV room. She heard the ringing, infectious laughter of Leo and the scampering of more than one pair of feet. Ah, he must have messed with one of the other kids, and it was Mikey this time based on the bubbly threat of violence that trailed behind the two chasers. Good old Doctor Delicate Touch.

The sounds of peace; it had been a while since she heard such unrestrained laughter or the playing of a Jupiter Jim movie. Her brothers all relaxed in a quiet lair without the constant murmuring of survivors at work, seeing them all together again eased something that ached deep in her heart. And with a smile, Riley turned her attention back to the projector screen in time for her favourite scene in the entire movie.

The lair would need to be renovated if they were going to be housing five more Hamatos. It was obvious that their future selves plus Riley were used to a shared living quarters, or at least being close by to one another. And given the size of Shuiro, they had to find a room that could fit the dinosaur of a turtle and a giant turtle pile. Casey all but told him away from the others that his family used to sleep together after they had to give up rooms to survivors, or to repurpose for the war.

They were fine with the living room as a temporary spot but they would need to give Splinter his TV back at some point. Hence, that left Leo and Raph to debate how to go about it, given Donnie would be busy working with Sumire to cure Aoi. The older slider was looking better than before despite his side wound still being worryingly fresh. But Leo was sure he and everyone else would feel better if he actually healed and wasn’t actively at risk of death.

One of the upper terminals was chosen since there was no train car that could comfortably fit Sumire, let alone Shuiro. It was a wonder they managed to grow so big but given their new bodies were not exactly one-to-one of their original apocalyptic ones, Leo decided not to question it too much. After securing all exits and making sure it was cut off from the surface, since it was meant to be a bedroom, the war veterans were allowed to make the space their own.

While Riley had the option to live above ground, she declined for similar reasons as Casey: too used to living underground on a nocturnal schedule, wanted to be close to family, being unused to a world where they were not at war with genocidal aliens. She helped Shuiro set up the nest of comforters, blankets and pillows in a corner of the terminal, while Mikan levitated Aoi to hang some fairy lights around together with Casey. The veteran slider had not done much else besides eat and sleep for much of the time and looked quite happy as he helped.

He could see care in the gentle way Mikan set Aoi down in the nest once they were done. He saw acceptance in how his older self did not fight as a blanket was pulled up to his chin with a kiss on the head from Riley. He couldn’t ignore how love coloured each little action and word made for an unwell brother. Because though he was looking in from the outside, was this not the same as when he had been recovering from the Invasion? Wasn’t it how they loved and cared for him despite his own doubts and fears and uncertainty in himself? Even if he had nothing to offer at the time, bedridden and dependent on them for basic things, they stayed.

Leo left the veterans to settle into their new room, taking two steps at a time down to see how the local geniuses were doing. They had to have made even a little progress by now.

.

.

.

Sleep did not come easy, even as he observed the time on his phone.

7AM.

His family had long since gone to bed. Even Donnie must have, since Mikan would have dragged Sumire to the nest and persuaded the younger softshell to rest. It was likely for the best that Leo did not know how.

Rubbing his eyes, he waited for the kettle to finish boiling. Nothing like a hot beverage to help convince his body to actually sleep. He scrolled on his phone at the table, not really paying much attention to what he was seeing. There were still a few recurring posts linking to news articles about the Invasion; posts from various users about it, both in and out of NYC; lack of government confirmation about the attacks or some kind of damage control. Pretty sure an alien invasion was not something they could sweep under the rug, not with the death toll it caused.

Great, back to that line of thought.

Leo grumbled, placing his phone down and digging the heels of his palms against his brow. Stupid brain. Stupid him, remembering that now when he was trying to relax enough to actually sleep. Sometimes he wanted his head to shut up, at least for a day.

The sound of freshly boiled water being poured caught his attention. His hands lowered and he saw a certain slider stood at the counter, mixing two mugs of hot cocoa with a little sprinkle of tiny marshmallows. When had he gotten here? There was no one else around-

“I thought I made it clear that you’re not supposed to exert yourself,” Leo said with no small amount of irritation.

Aoi gave a slight shrug, likely trying not to agitate his wound, and inviting more warranted wrath. “Been feeling restless.”

“I get that, but you barely have enough mystic juice to stay alive, let alone stand or walk. Draxum even agreed to help make a cure when Mikey told him about you, and that’s saying something.”

“It’s not as bad now with the bracelet.” The older slider placed both mugs onto the table, sitting across from him. “And yes, I know that doesn’t mean I can walk around on my own. I just needed some space too.”

That was understandable, especially given how crowded Aoi had been since he was brought back home. His family was always there and while that was likely a great relief for his older self, that did not change the need to be in a space by themselves to simply think or relax. Leo loved his family but he still needed some time to read or chill by himself every so often. Aoi likely needed it even more after leading an entire war.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but, have you considered telling them you need some time to yourself?” Leo asked. He took a sip of hot cocoa. “Or is this a case of not feeling like you are allowed to ask for that?”

Aoi blinked, silent as he took a shaky sip of his cocoa. His hands had been shaking quite a bit for the past day.

“It’s not that, at least not completely.”

“Well, what other reason could you have for ignoring your own needs?”

A quiet filled the kitchen, his question hanging like a hook in the air between them. But under that dulled amber gaze, no matter how unwell and frail the larger turtle was, Leo felt like he was the one about to be caught by it. The older slider lifted a shaking hand between them and he almost winced at how visible the quivering was, relief exhaling out of his chest when the hand was placed back onto the table - it still twitched a little. Something twisted in his chest when he noticed even holding his arm up for those few seconds tired Aoi out; already browning eyes lost more of that amber hue, even in the dimness of the fairy lights outside, and his breathing was audible now.

Leo moved to take the seat next to the ailing turtle, taking his older self’s hand and massaging the strained muscles under calloused scales. Despite the steady diet and rest, Aoi’s arm had thinned from what it had been, fresh out of the apocalypse. And that only made more frigid stones drop into his gut.

“Enjoying what time I have left with them.”

Leo flinched. He tightened his grip on Aoi’s hand, turning his head to meet those painfully dull eyes and that accepting smile. It made him sick to his stomach.

“You’re not going to die,” Leo bit out.

Aoi did not waver, smile still so sure and far too kind.

“Come on, you survived the end of the world, right? If the K-Krang couldn’t kill you, why would you…”

“I’m not giving up, kid,” said the former Resistance leader, gentle and perhaps a bit firm too. “Impossible odds or not, I trust you guys.”

“But you said-”

“I don’t know how long I have left. That doesn’t mean I’m ready to leave, does it?”

He pursed his lips and glanced down to see Aoi turn his hand to hold one of his own, squeezing with what little strength he had remaining. It was still warm and strangely comforting in the way a song or company could chase away nightmares. Was this something he had done with Casey?

“ Anata wa hitori janai , right?”

Leo huffed, unable to stop himself from smiling weakly. “Yeah. You’re sure we can do this in time?”

“Without a doubt,” Aoi affirmed. “The Krang couldn’t stop you. This won’t either.”

“Wow, when did we end up being so good at pep talks?” he laughed.

“We’ve always been good at talking. And it helps that I’m you.”

The almost cheeky smile lifted Leo’s worry, if only a little. His older self, for all the trouble he was in and how close he was to death, still kept his head up and managed to inspire him in a single talk. It was no wonder that the Resistance in that future lasted as long as it did - from what he heard in passing.

But he did not forget the very obvious signs of physical fatigue in the other turtle. Aoi needed to return to bed, and he was unsure if the large slider could even walk at the moment.

“You need to go back to the Nest.”

“Already got an idea, don’t you?”

Leo hopped up from his seat. “You know it. Be right back.”

He scampered out to his train car, locating where he had left his katanas, the blue-hilted blades leaning against the improvised bed frame. Swiping them up, Leo stepped out and paused when he heard a loud thump and the distinct sound of dropped ceramic. He broke into a run back to the kitchen and froze in the doorway. His breath was stolen right from his lungs, heart being crushed by an invisible hand, the ground under him on the verge of giving out.

Aoi lay crumpled on the floor, pale face lax with a pained furrow to his brow. The mug of cocoa had cracked, teetering on a rounded side, tiny bones swimming in old blood spilt from within. A flickering blue glow from the bracelet, barely tinting the silvery ivy helix that wound around the wrist, was all that spoke in the silence.

Leo gulped.

He sucked a shaking breath into protesting lungs.

His wrist flicked.

A portal dropped his belt into his hand.

Leo slammed the panic button as hard as he could.

And he knelt helplessly next to his dying brother, hands numbly lifting the other’s head onto his lap, as the far sound of panicked footsteps trampled the fragile peace.

He curled over Aoi’s head, biting his lower lip.

There was a murmur of movement and voices behind him. It sounded like the veterans had arrived first, and he almost felt the distinct spark of Sumire’s ninpo on his shell.

“Call Draxum,” ordered Riley. “Mikan, Sumire, you get Blue on life support. We’ll look after Little Blue.”

Leo whined in protest as he was pulled away from the dying slider. A pair of arms, much larger than his big brother’s, held him close and a five-fingered hand rubbed his head in an attempt to soothe him.

He looked up at a lone blue eye and almost broke from the fear coiled in his muscles, heart, mind. Shuiro cradled him to his plastron, seated just outside the kitchen, and placed Leo in his lap. Riley knelt beside them with a reassuring smile that was definitely her mother’s - he remembered it from a photo April showed them once.

“Is he…?” he tried to say.

Riley was quick to answer. “Aoi’s in good hands. You did the right thing, Leo.”

“But I panicked.”

“The panic button woke Sumire, and us right after. We’re used to emergencies so we can move quickly. Even scared, you made a good decision.”

Leo tried to bury himself further into Shuiro’s scarred plastron. The snapper’s arms tightened around him in a much needed embrace.

“I know you’re worried, but you need to sleep,” Shuiro rumbled, voice soft. “You can’t help Aoi when you’re tired.”

“How’d you know?” pouted Leo.

“You already know the answer to that.”

He grumbled, curling up within Shuiro’s lap, and closing his eyes. His racing mind was powerless to the steady beat of the eldest turtle’s heart and the humming of his oldest sister.

“I’m not giving up, kid. Impossible odds or not, I trust you guys.”

No pressure.

Chapter Text

“You’re a fucking dum-dum, you know that?”

No reply.

“Of course you do. But it’s still true. The data proves it.”

Silence.

Just a slow beeping rhythm and the wheezing of breath.

Sumire inhaled deeply, running his hand over his face, visor deactivated for now. He stared numbly at their joined hands, an IV line taped to the back of a lime one. Floating between them was the glow of multiple ninpo screens where he could monitor his twin’s vitals and view the data that was almost complete. They had gotten so close to figuring out what was causing this but mystics were still a weak point for him. That field of study was always Draxum’s specialty, not theirs.

The bracelet had only bought them a week at best. Even with Mikan’s mystic energy output, his body was consuming it too fast. Whatever was going on mystically was killing his twin like a parasite, sucking the life out of him before their very eyes. It was likely in its final stages hence why the mystic energy consumption was at an all-time high despite the body being at rest.

What did he miss? Was there a data point he hadn’t noticed? Had he forgotten something? Maybe it was a detail so inconsequential at the time that he didn’t think it worth noting. But what if that could have prevented this? What if he had studied mystics more thoroughly? Maybe he would know what to do, or what was wrong. He should have called Draxum sooner, before his twin needed to be hooked up to life support. Maybe Aoi would be okay by now if he did.

He didn’t know what to do or how to fix this. And Sumire hated that fact.

Because he knew that Aoi trusted him to fix this.

It was what he and Donnie’s specialty was: to fix things, make solutions. To prepare and have just what they need at any given moment.

But there was none of that this time.

No amount of scientific knowledge could combat the ridiculous logic and essence of mysticism. It defied all known laws that he believed to be true. He could not fully understand it, not like he could with technology, and he was so scared of that fact. There were things in the world he didn’t understand, and his brother’s life was in the realm of one of those things.

How could one make a cure for an illness when they didn’t even know the basics of what was making the victim sick?

His hand buzzed as he continued to idly feed the bracelet with his own mystic energy, as Mikan had coached him to do. The orb pulsed steadily as it converted the energy for Aoi’s body to use but there was no signs of improvement - only the same weakening vitals and an unresponsive twin.

He looked up when the medbay doors slid open, a pair of hoofsteps clopping into the carriage. Baron Draxum had arrived quicker than anticipated - within less than fifteen minutes. Sumire was silent, still holding his brother’s hand while the goat yokai examined his comatose twin with a critical eye and some mystic tools on hand. Mikan hovered behind him and placed a hand on Sumire's shoulder in silent comfort.

“A curse has formed inside his body,” Draxum reported shortly after. “One of his own making, from the looks of it. A rare ailment that is notoriously hard to diagnose until its late stages.”

“A curse,” Sumire echoed flatly.

“It formed inside his body?” Mikan questioned. “Barry, what does that mean?”

“Negative emotions in great enough amounts can become a curse. Most would direct it towards others, but some direct it inwards toward themselves. With enough mystic energy in the body, it can grow in strength and eventually drain the yokai dry.”

“So, are you saying that my brother cursed himself somehow?”

“No…” Sumire turned to see Mikan staring at Aoi with wide, tearful eyes. He could easily recognise a familiar helpless horror on his little brother’s face. “The residue from my time gateway… It brought the curse to life?”

“The exposure to your energy in its raw form only increased the faulty energy consumption within his body. From what I can glean, it has been happening for far longer than the time you’ve spent here.” Draxum hovered what looked to be a mystic viewer over Aoi’s chest, and they could all see the dark writhing void sucking up glittering blue veins of energy - thin, near dry rivulets. “Despite his mystic ability being less heavy-hitting than others, the blue one has always had a larger mystic pool to pull from. Portals and near-instant teleportation are some of the hardest magic to perform, much less as freely as Leonardo does. It requires more energy than many would believe.”

“Am I understanding that, this whole time, my dum-dum brother’s feelings have been literally eating away at him from the inside out?” Sumire asked, a forceful hiss on his tongue. “No metaphor, but literally. He is being killed by his own feelings. That’s what you’re telling us?”

Draxum nodded. Bile tickled at his throat but he forced it back down as he shot up from the stool, tearing his hand free to grip Aoi’s shoulders and shake him hard. Mikan’s worried cry was but static to his tympana.

“ You ! I can’t believe you, ‘Nardo! You absolute imbecile! You selfish, fucking -!”

Mikan tore him away and pulled them both to the opposite end of the medbay car. Sumire shook, breaths heavy with a familiar tremble in his fists. His vision blurred and heat carved its way down his cheeks. His little brother stared before embracing him like he was glass on the verge of shattering. Together, they sank down to the floor, and grieved as one.

In the end, they had done nothing wrong, no matter how it felt or whether their roles affected the outcome.

Because Aoi did this to himself.

How could he?

Sumire hated being helpless.

Of course his twin would piss him off one more time.

“Is there still a way to save him, Barry?” Mikan asked, still hugging Sumire close.

Draxum replied, “At such a late stage, I would ordinarily say no. But given your unique situation, there is a way.”

“Tell us,” Sumire rasped. He stared right into the yokai’s eyes from across the room. “Tell us what to do.”

Leo shuffled in place beside his twin and big brother, watching Mikan and Mikey draw out quite an elaborate ritual circle onto the platform with Draxum. He had no clue what some of those runes were and the amount of books opened around them was concerning. Sumire lingered by the warrior scientist, making notes and scrutinising the process as he tended to do with most things - like Donnie would do whenever mystics were involved. Said twin was holding his hand and Raph had a hand on his shell, palm over the thin crack that cut across the hump.

He glanced toward the closed medbay doors, knowing all too well that his future counterpart lay dying on one of the beds. Whatever it was they needed to do in order to save him involved Leo. And for all the fear and worry that clouded his head, he wasn’t about to let someone die - especially not family. Aoi was Casey’s dad, a brother, and even a parental figure for them. One that was terminally ill since his arrival, but hopefully never again. Was it strange to both aspire to be like his future self and to be horrified by who he could have become? He supposed only his brothers and sister could understand to some degree.

After all, not everyone had to live with what could have been standing right before them.

He was nervous, sure. Scared? Maybe a little. Okay, a lot. Mystics was not his ballpark, not at all, no matter how much he secretly wanted to learn - one never knew when it could come in handy. He could trust Mikey and Mikan, Barry not so much but still. They had yet to explain what this ritual was for and how it could help Aoi. All they had said prior was that they had a way to save him and only Leo could do it.

A familiar thought came to mind as he continued to shuffle uncomfortably between his big brothers. What if he messed up? What if this didn’t work? What if Leo did it wrong and Aoi died? Could he live with himself for letting family die? Would his family even still want him around for that?

But a quick glare from Mikan snapped him free of that spiral pretty quickly.

His insecurities, for that’s what they were, mattered little in the face of this task. It wasn’t about him, at least not completely. Aoi’s life was at stake here and he’d have to breathe in deep and face it head-on. He did it once before to save the world. He could do it again to bring his future self back.

After all, both of them had flirted with death before. This wouldn’t be anything too new.

There’s still hope. And Aoi was the world’s greatest ninja. Leo wanted to be that kind of ninja. So he’d cling to that greatest weapon with his bare teeth and hands, no matter what waited ahead.

“It is ready,” Draxum announced. “Leonardo, come sit.”

“Shuiro.”

Sumire walked past them to enter the medbay, the larger snapper following to stand by the doors. Leo padded around the circle to Draxum’s side and settled himself onto his knees in the designated spot. Mikan floated in over the carefully drawn lines and took his right hand into his own.

“This ritual is going to send you into his mind. Think of it like the memory spell you used with Dad but your goal won’t be to find a specific memory. You need to find Aoi, wherever he's hidden in there, and beat some sense into him.”

“Is that Doctor Delicate Touch talking?” Leo joked meekly.

Mikan grinned a little, “Nope, just me. And you got this, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he echoed, sitting up a bit straighter. “I do.”

There was a pause, a hesitation, as he saw Shuiro cradle his comatose counterpart. Sumire was carrying the portable ventilator out after them. Aoi was still so lifeless, and so small.

“So, I just gotta drag him back home?” Leo asked. “Out of whatever… prison he’s locked himself up in?”

“Basically. And if anyone can do it, it’d be you. After all, you’re both Leo, our fearless leader.”

He turned to meet Raph and Donnie’s gazes, finding great comfort in the reassuring smile and encouraging nod that met him. Mikey grinned at him from just beside them with an unshakeable faith that he could do it. And Leo would hate to disappoint, so he won’t. He would do this and drag his dumb future self back to proper life.

This family had been dealt enough grief.

Aoi was placed gently into the centre of the circle, ventilator settled by the edge of the drawn lines. Leo stared and saw in his mind how much his future counterpart had deteriorated. From the muscled if malnourished apocalyptic warrior to a thinner, terminally ill turtle. But not for much longer. Not on his watch.

“When you’re ready, activate your mystic energy. Mikan and I will send you in,” Draxum instructed.

Leo closed his eyes and took deep breaths, calling up the magic settled deep within his body. It responded swiftly with a flare of flame. The voices of his family fell away as the ritual began.

“Good luck.”

That sounded vaguely like Draxum.

.

.

.

Explosions and gunfire was what greeted him as he opened his eyes into what had to be Aoi’s memory. He stood unnoticed on an active battlefield, scorched earth and bloodied sky but a backdrop to the hulking silvery beasts that shambled ever closer from each horizon, their red eyes firing lasers at targets Leo could not see. Fire, lasers, metal creaking, rocks crumbling, screams cutting through the ashen air. The Technodrome was up above the ruins of skyscrapers, hovering where Metro Tower once stood.

He could barely draw breath as he watched a bright purple helicarrier come crashing down. Turning his head around, Leo caught sight of two figures stumbling their way uphill. Their destination was the decapitated head of Liberty where the only non-combat zone lay. He took off to meet them at the crest of the hill, eyes widening when he recognised them to be Aoi and Casey Junior.

Leo slid to their side as Aoi stumbled onto his knees but the Krang hounds that had been pursuing them were quickly demolished by flaming chains. Mikan’s voice rang out.

“Bad doggies!”

Aoi grinned as he turned onto his side, sword in hand. “Impeccable timing, little brother. Very dramatic.”

Leo’s eyes went wide as the mystic warrior made his appearance, floating cross-legged with a ferocious glow. The box turtle threw his arms outwards and several chains impaled all the Krang beasts nearby. He stared in awe at how effortlessly Mikan had done that, at the sheer power that he knew Mikey had the same potential for.

Aoi was laid down against some rocks by Liberty’s head, Casey hovering nervously at the sight of whatever wound the elder slider was keeping pressure on. Mikan floated over with visible worry and Leo scrambled to get a look for confirmation.

“Help him, Michelangelo. He’s hurt bad.”

It was that side wound, nearly exactly how it had been when Aoi was found that first day, and how it had stayed even when it should have healed. A treatable wound but in the apocalypse, it may as well have been a death sentence. Leo watched Aoi look past them, out at the battlefield, and he saw those molten eyes take on a deep sorrow that almost made him sick to the stomach.

“That’s it. The Resistance failed. The Krang won. But-but it isn’t over.”

A glimmer peeked through the sorrow and Leo listened as his older self put a smile onto his face, turning towards the others as he spoke.

“We’ve still got a ninja’s greatest weapon: hope. That, and a badass mystic warrior.

Mikey, we need a time gateway.”

“It’ll take everything I have,” Mikan replied, almost as though he accepted the order. Maybe he had. Clearly, he did.

“I know. But this is our last chance. It’s our only chance.”

Mikan floated away, face set and rolling up imaginary sleeves. Casey looked incredibly confused as Aoi waved for him to crouch down and listen. Leo turned away from the pair to watch as Mikan planted his feet onto the ground, spinning to outline a circle around him with a leg. The mystic master gathered up mystic power within his palms and thrust them out in front of him as an unseen draft picked up within the folds of his cape. A golden fissure began to open before the box turtle and cracks crept up along green scales.

Leo startled when a heavy thump came from behind, turning to catch the sight of a titanous mech, its red searchlight harsh upon Casey and Aoi. He heard Mikan strain himself more and watched more and more of the gold eat up the mystic warrior’s body, a ferocious yell as he put everything into the time gateway. Casey yelled something from behind them and Aoi was silent but Leo couldn’t look away as Mikan turned to give them a final wink.

And thrusting his arms wide open, finally tearing the portal back in time into life, he watched the box turtle explode into golden dust. Gone.

He could feel tears rolling down his cheeks. This had already happened. It was no secret now, and the adult turtles had told them how they each died - albeit not in detail. But to see it himself, he was nearly overwhelmed with a deep grief that almost crushed his heart. There was the slightest sigh of sorrow from behind him. And more mechs began to converge on the golden gateway, another titan aiming its eye at the remaining two.

“Casey.”

Leo turned to see Aoi give Casey a strained but bright grin.

“When you’re done saving the world, do me a favour.”

The large slider then threw the boy towards the gateway with that prosthetic arm in a near dramatic flourish.

“Grab a slice!”

A hound attacked the arm but was thrown down, another cut by that sword with a hilt of red and purple memorabilia. Leo heard Casey’s wail of pure loss as the red laser slammed down with only the silhouette of Aoi visible.

Someone else was screaming too as the world shifted in a blur of colours, and the ever present taste of anguish. The battlefield where the last stand had taken place was gone like sand swept up by the wind. He entered freefall as the ground vanished from beneath his feet.

Belatedly, as he found himself being drawn toward a purple light, Leo realised it was his own voice crying from the void.

No, not him.

Aoi.

Chapter Text

From the chaos of the last stand to this...

The sky was not yet dominated by red. It was stormcloud dark with the tint of old blood. Lightning flashed behind the clouds, a large rounded object with long tentacles silhouetted above. The Krang’s ship, no doubt. But there were more dotting the stormy skies, smaller yet all the same disgusting shape. The worst part was the fact that more than one existed.

Skyscrapers lay lifeless and tilted around him, countless mounds of debris and rubble where homes and stores once stored. No sign of any greenery but at least the air smelled less like fire and ash.

Leo startled when someone landed beside him, then realised it was Aoi - only a handful of years younger. He still had that bulky Raph-inspired arm, and a red bandana tied to his lone katana’s hilt. Golden eyes scanned the area before turning skyward.

“No hostiles here,” his older self reported as a second figure landed on Leo’s other side. “Should be a clear shot up there.”

“You know I could have gotten here on my own,” Sumire said.

“Humour me for this, Don,” chuckled Aoi. But there was a shake in it, something that clearly didn’t escape the softshell’s notice. “...So, an hour, you said?”

“At most. If I’m not back by then, well, I don’t think I need to say it. Unless you want me to-”

“No, no. I know.”

“But you’re worried.”

Aoi grimaced and Leo gulped. This conversation felt oddly private, but then he shook his head. He had to brave through it.

If his older self had somehow managed to see this moment through, he could too.

“...We don’t have to do this.”

“It’s a bit late to turn back now, ‘Nardo. And you know we won’t get another chance like this.”

The adult slider reached a hand over to fiddle with the bandana on his sword. And Sumire closed his eyes, shoulders slumping back, before he closed the distance between them. Leo stepped aside and watched the older twin place his hands on both the other’s arms - robotic and organic. Their snouts brushed but that was more than he had ever gotten from his own twin.

He could never imagine Donnie letting him that close, or maybe he just hadn’t figured out how yet.

“When you get back, head to my lab and use the code 037. Think of it as an early birthday present.”

Aoi opened his mouth to speak but Sumire locked him into place with a stare that snapped his jaw shut, the softshell pulling back and away. Leo thought the motion looked almost painful and stilted in a way he couldn’t quite describe in the moment. Neither of the older turtles could look away from each other.

“Go join Michael and the others,” Sumire said, voice dry but light even through his mouthpiece. “You’d have a better view of my genius from there.”

His older self continued to stare helplessly before he finally broke his gaze away, prosthetic hand lightly wrapping around his sword hilt. Not to tug it free or anything but simply just comfort of habit - from the look of it.

The smile that he gave Sumire in return did not reach those golden eyes.

“Knock ‘em dead, Dee.”

“So it shall be done, Leader.”

Aoi turned and slid down the rubble, jogging rather than sprinting away. Leo turned to see Sumire close his eyes with saddened digital brows. But determination soon set itself upon the softshell’s visage, turning to face up toward the Krang’s mothership.

His battle shell’s jets activated and he shot skyward in a burst of bright purple light.

As much as he hoped the softshell would return, Leo already knew this may be the last time Aoi ever saw his twin prior to dropping into the past.

And as the ground fell out from under him again, the world once more melting from colour to nothing, he tried not to think on the choking sobs that echoed around the void as a red light came up to meet him.

.

.

.

There was grass here.

This was far enough back that the sky had no red, the clouds weren’t as thick, and the moonlight peeked through. But the sight was marred by the looming shape of the Krang’s main ship just above the horizon. Even if the world still held onto its beauty, the genocidal aliens were hard to forget.

A roar drew his eye somewhere deeper into the city, the red of Shuiro’s mystic construct breaking the darkness of the lightless skyline. Leo took off toward it regardless of whether this was a bad idea or not. Almost like when he had dove out of his pod to get the Key back during the Invasion, huh.

He skidded into the flattened park to see both Aoi - with two flesh arms and closer to him in build - and Shuiro fighting fiercely against one of the three Krang that had escaped the Prison Dimension. Leo shuddered at the sight of that metallic mech with its lashing tail and glaring red eye. He was almost taken aback by the lack of forehead wrinkles on Aoi whenever he caught a better look at his older self. Just how old was he when this happened?

“Haha! Missed me!” Aoi taunted as he fell back. Shuiro slammed a heavy punch into the head Krang’s face.

“Leo, this isn’t the time to joke around!” the snapper grunted. “You almost lost your eye there!”

“But you got my back. And it’s not like we gotta beat this guy today.”

He spotted the bulky bag bouncing against Aoi’s hip, a diagonal strap going up to vanish under the scarf - though it was long enough to be a cloak on him here. It looked like one of those supply sacks that Todd would have sitting around the puppy rescue for whatever reason. So was this a supply run? Or some other mission?

“We still can’t afford to be careless,” Shuiro scolded. “Now, will you help shake this guy off our tail already?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it-”

Leo found himself moving before he even registered the giant mech of his nightmares appearing above Aoi, already in striking range of the older slider. And while the claws phased through him, he could only watch as fate repeated itself - or showed him something he never thought he’d see again.

Shuiro bent over a trembling Aoi, wide and terrified golden eyes staring into the face of his big brother. But this time, instead of the shoulder, he had been struck clean through the shell and out the plastron. They were a mere inch from grazing his other self’s own.

“...Raph…?”

Aoi’s voice was tiny.

Shuiro smiled weakly as tears filled the slider’s eyes.

“Raph…!” he squeaked out again as his cheek was caressed by a large hand.

Leo trembled in place, his own vision starting to blur and swim, but not before he could make out Shuiro’s arm moving. He saw some kind of magenta seed drop onto the ground below. And Aoi cried out as he vanished through it.

Shuiro slid off the Krang’s claws through the portal right after him before it closed.

A piercing wail had Leo clasping his hands to his tympana and slamming his eyes shut, the world around him shattering like glass, broken into countless shards.

Back in the void. There was no light to fall towards. At least, not that he could think of.

But Leo continued to fall further and further down.

And as the crying grew steadily louder, he straightened himself out, clenched his fists, then dove down toward it.

Just a little more.

Aoi, the real one, had to be close.

.

.

.

He was back where it all ended.

The end of the world where Liberty’s head lay forgotten and broken in the wasteland, ash and fire replacing where life once thrived, no water left to be seen. But there were no towering mechs, no lasers or beasts, no screams of war.

Only deafening silence, and the Krang mothership watching from high above.

And there was a small shape curled up just under the shadow of Liberty.

Leo padded closer and stopped a few steps from the teenage visage that looked exactly like him. Of course it would.

They were the same person - once.

Aoi, the spitting image of him, had his head pressed to his drawn up knees. Fabrics of orange, purple, and red were clutched desperately between his hands. Slim shoulders shook violently and only the faintest whimpers broke the dead whistle of wind around them.

In this, Leo couldn’t help but face what everyone else saw.

He looked so meek from the outside looking in. Small, grieving, and deeply lonely. A big heart that was too scared to ever face the world head-on with all it could feel.

But that wasn’t true, was it?

Because if nothing else, Hamato Leonardo never gave into despair. Never.

He never shied away from pain if it was for family.

And Aoi should be no different.

“Is this where you’ve been hiding?” Leo asked casually.

The other stiffened before lifting his head, red rimmed eyes widening at the sight of him. It seemed he hadn’t been expecting anyone to find him here.

“Do you know what’s happening right now? Or do I need to catch you up a bit?”

He didn’t expect an immediate answer. For stuff like this, if Leo knew himself even a little bit, he’d think on the question before answering. It was the complete opposite of his faceman act that needed him to chatter on the fly, mouth moving as fast as his brain - or was it the other way around?

“How… did you get here?” Aoi murmured.

“Some mystic spell stuff that Mikan and Draxum drew up. Do you know what’s happening to you, out there?”

“Out there?”

“Okay,” Leo sighed. “Unless you’re genuinely not sure because of your current situation, I think you already know what’s going on and why I’m here. We’re not stupid, or that unaware of things.”

Aoi’s frown deepened, shifting to clutch the fabrics to his chest. “...I’m dying, right?”

Of course he knew.

“Yeah, and I’m the only one who could come here. Because I’m you.”

The other’s frown twisted into a grimace and his gaze turned to the ground. He looked like he was ashamed. But if weeks with him had told Leo anything, those sorts of feelings were always directed at himself. Aoi never blamed him for anything and had been nothing but kind, caring, and almost like a parent none of them ever knew they wanted in their home.

As much as he could be while slowly dying.

“No, you’re not.”

“Why not?”

“You’re already better than I’ll ever be. You’re Hamato Leonardo, savior of the world.”

“And guess what? You’re also Leonardo. Master Leonardo, the greatest ninja the world has ever seen.”

“Casey exaggerates.”

“I don’t think he did. And I’m right because I’m not the one in a self-pitying spiral right now.”

Aoi bristled and met Leo’s gaze again, the glare almost challenging. Good.

“I saw, you know,” he said, pointing to the colourful fabrics. “Had to make my way through them to find you here.”

“Then, how can you still say those things? I’m not that great.”

“Well, your opinion’s pretty screwed. Not like mine isn’t either. But you can at least trust Casey’s word, can’t you?”

“I…”

Leo braved the gap and slumped down to sit beside Aoi, legs splayed out as opposed to curling up into an identical cowering ball. But as infuriating as it was to see his older self so down, he smiled at the other.

“For a Hamato, you sure do hide from family a lot,” he joked lightly.

“I’m not much of a Hamato,” Aoi shrugged. “Haven’t been for years.”

“Now that’s a lie. You know you’re still one of us.”

“I don’t have my ninpo.”

“Pretty sure I got an idea why. Mikan, Sumire, everyone knows about that part. Why do you think we’re doing this mystic spell thing?”

“For closure? Spite? …To drag me back home by any means necessary.”

“There it is.”

Aoi was silent, thoughtfully so as opposed to simply wallowing in grief, so Leo continued.

“Yeah, I am basically here to do that. But you gotta want it too.”

“Huh?”

“I can try and pull a Doctor Delicate Touch all I want, and drag you back whether you like it or not. But… I know that won’t work. Not with you.”

“It’s worked before-”

“And what? Look at yourself. Look at me. Look at where we are right now.” Leo gestured out around them with an arm. “You’re at my age, at the end of the world, crying over the past while our family is out there waiting. They’re scared, man. I saw them.”

“They… are?”

“Dude, Sumire and Donnie were researching for almost two months, sometimes pulling several all-nighters. Mikan’s been keeping you alive with as much mystic juice as he could spare. Shuiro doesn’t sleep some nights, not even when Dad asks him to. Yes, they’re scared for you.”

“And what about you?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I came all the way here, didn’t I? You think I wouldn’t care either?”

“I… I know you do. I know they do. I just…”

“Can’t believe it?” Leo sighed and closed his eyes. “Yeah, I get that. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s real. And shouldn’t you know this, being a grown up?”

“Not much of one even after an apocalypse,” huffed Aoi. But there was a slight smile on his face now.

“Still a grown up. And I’ll ask for real: do you want to come home?”

“Of course I do.”

“Come home to everyone, even like this? Like the worst version of yourself?”

“They’ve dealt with me for years as a terrible brother.”

“Lie number two,” he sing-songed. “Your opinion doesn’t count.”

“Are you trying to save me or kill me?” Aoi deadpanned.

Leo laughed, “I think I can do both. Metaphorically for the second part, for the record.”

“Give it a few years, they’ll figure out how to record minds.”

Wait, what? “Are- are you joking about that?”

Aoi had the nerve to shrug. But that smile was wider, the other’s eyes had brightened. The fabrics were now cradled loosely in his other self’s lap.

“Whatever. Well, Draxum and Mikan told me that if we want you to stop dying, then I guess we got one option left since that feelings talk didn’t really work.”

“And that is?”

“Find the source of the curse and smash it.”

“Simple. I like it.” Aoi tied the masks to his arn and picked himself up. Leo followed him to his feet, and let the other slider lead the way. “I… think I know where to find it. I know what it is.”

“Well, lead the way, Fearless.”

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Yep!”

And across the wastes they ran, triple colours bound to Aoi’s right arm, with Leo right behind.

Chapter Text

It had been an hour already since the ritual circle was activated. And there had been little to no change observed in both sliders. Leo's head had drooped but the meditative pose remained unchanged, and uncomfortably still with only the rhythmic rise and fall of his shoulders. Aoi's chest did the same but it had become shallow and slow as the hour had dragged on. The brief fogging of the breathing mask over the older slider's snout did little to ease the uncertainty that hung over them all.

Most of them had stayed around the ritual circle, Draxum and Mikan both overseeing the spell itself without any break. Shuiro had taken to hugging the rest of the kids close while Casey had long since planted himself right into Sumire's side after getting permission to do so. Splinter and Riley occasionally brought in a needed drink, snack, plushie, what have you. But they too spent some time observing the ritual.

The tears that streamed down Leo's face had initially caused great alarm for the kids. He supposed it made sense, as the slider - both of them - were never the type to openly weep before others. They only ever cried alone, quiet and hidden.

Sumire only knew this when he had stumbled upon Aoi doing it sometime in the war. It was unbearably rare for his twin to find enough time to even grieve after a certain point in the apocalypse. But he had been taken aback by the fact that, for all his showmanship and jokes, Aoi wept silently in the shadows. It was basically opposite to how Mikan had always been an open crier, loud and unashamed. He could only guess how shaken this little revelation would be for the kids whose blue leader was still acting the class clown whenever possible.

Not to say Aoi didn't have his moments. It had simply been buried down over time due to their circumstances, and him subconsciously embracing the roots of his actual strengths with age. That being, subterfuge and unrelenting hope.

His ability to endure and adapt was nothing to scoff at. And it was no wonder he would be the only one of them to have survived it all, if just barely.

"Little Blue had better hurry," Mikan murmured, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Sumire's frown deepened. "How much time is left?"

"Maybe another fifteen minutes," his mystic brother replied. "Aoi's barely hanging on as it is. Me and Barry can't keep this up for much longer either."

He clenched his fist, feeling Casey sink even deeper into his side. His nephew was rightfully distressed, perhaps even more so than the rest of them, at how close his father was to death at the moment.

But if there was one thing Sumire had learned to accept as fact, it was that Leonardo would cut through insurmountable odds with nothing but hope and love for family on his side. And always at his side, they would be there to make miracles happen with him in the lead and to make sure he came home.

All they had to do was keep watch and trust in Leo.

And Sumire almost smiled at how easy of a thing that was to do.

There was none more worthy of such faith.

In the ruins of the conservatory, altar and doorway half-covered in Krang biomass, was that dreaded Key on the pedestal. Even the way the darkness and moonlight fell upon this place was picture perfect to the night it all went wrong. Emptied of the Foot Clan or even of anyone else, this place felt eerily like an ancient temple fallen to ruin with nothing but unspoken tragedies lingering within the air.

Tragedies rooted in guilt.

The air was filled with a palpable regret that had Leo wetting his beak without thinking. If he had human lips, they would have become so chapped from this entire experience thus far.

Aoi, still in the form of a teenager with his brothers' masks bound to his upper arm, stared up at the Key with something unreadable in his eyes. At least, it would be if it were anyone other than Leo observing him.

Apprehension. Guilt. Fear.

Regret.

It was one thing when he himself was drowning in it. But there was a strange clarity that came with seeing the same in a mirror of his own self.

"That's it?" Leo asked. "The source of this curse thing."

"Yes."

Of course that was the shape it took.

He leapt up onto the platform and strolled toward it, Aoi following right behind him after a moment's hesitation. Leo stared down at the thing and took in every detail that he knew quite well. Memories were funny, remembering the things that struck a chord far more than the everyday that dominated their lives. The pain always stood out compared to the joy or peace.

"You only saw it this close once. But you could still remember what it looked like even after so long," he murmured. His mind thought back to the sketch on the back of that family photo, the one that had survived the apocalypse, and remained safely hidden under Leo's pillow. "Yeah, no wonder it's this thing."

Leo reached out to pluck it off the pedestal but tensed up as his hand phased through the totem. He pulled his hand back and turned it about in front of him. No, he wasn't a ghost, or at least he shouldn't be.

Wait, it had happened before, when he saw Shuiro's sacrifice with his own eyes. Krang Prime's claws had phased through him harmlessly. It stood to reason that he couldn't touch the Key simply because this wasn't his mind.

They were the same people on a technicality. But the differences, the lived experiences and memories, had already changed that on a fundamental level.

He stepped aside to see if Aoi would have any better luck with it. And Leo's heart dropped when the other could barely reach halfway for the dreaded artefact before snatching his trembling hand back, clutching it to his chest like it had been burned.

So that was the problem.

"Why won't you grab it?" Leo asked bluntly.

Aoi shot him a terribly confused look before turning away with a grimace. "I don't know what you mean."

"You do. I know you've already come up with multiple answers, or better yet, excuses."

The other shot him a glare over the shoulder, still keeping his shell - as unblemished as his own once was - to Leo.

"You're the only one who can deal with that thing directly," he continued, watching Aoi hug himself. "And we both know there's no magic or mystic stuff to stop you here."

It was almost like how Casey confronted him after they were separated from the others. But he was on the other side this time. The other could hear him just fine, was thinking over the words no doubt, but being a stubborn jerk about it.

"Are you really going to make me say it?"

"What's stopping you?" Aoi bit back, a slither of irritation slipping past what should have been a more mature calm. "There's no one else around to hear any of this."

"Oh ho, I know that."

Leo stormed over and forcefully turned the other around, locking their gazes together with hands planted firmly on his mirror's shoulders.

"And that's exactly how you want it to stay, don't you?"

Aoi's brow furrowed, "The past is the past."

"You're literally in my time, bub. In a bifur-whatsit timeline that happened because Casey came back to warn us. Because you " - he jabbed a finger against the centre of the other's upper plastron - "told him to."

"That doesn't change anything-"

"Like heck it doesn't!" Leo growled, giving Aoi a hard shove back. He felt a little satisfaction to see the other stumble a bit and that deceptive calm starting to crack. "Everything I have now, everything we have now, is because of you."

"Yeah, and all it took was for me dooming the world twice over," Aoi said with a scoff that was too reminiscent of Leo himself at one point.

"Okay, first off, don't you dare think that you're the only one who did that." He jabbed a finger right at the slider's face, glaring and rightfully annoyed. "Second, are you forgetting that the only reason I have this apocalypse-free world is because you made it possible?"

"I didn't do jack to help here-"

"So Casey is jack now, huh?"

Aoi flinched violently, teenage body shifting just for a moment into the middle-aged apocalyptic warrior he first met months ago, before that mirror of himself twisted into a snarl.

"That's not-"

"No? Because that's what this whole thing sounds like," Leo cut in. "Me, me, me. What was it you said to him, huh? It's not about me. Doesn't sound like you learned that lesson yourself-"

He didn't flinch as the other got right up in his face, right hand grabbing his upper plastron like Raph sometimes did when at his wit's end. And there was a cold fury in the other's golden eyes.

There was the Aoi he was looking for.

"You really think you're in any position to judge me for that?" hissed the spited slider. "You?"

Leo met that glare with a smarmy smirk. "Who else will?"

Aoi inhaled audibly before shoving him away, storming over to slump onto the platform's edge, between the bent guardrails. He was very much the image of a sulking teenager with just a little too much weight on his shell.

"We're our own worst critics. I know that, you obviously know that too," Leo said, smirk falling away. hand brushing over where he had been grabbed. "And you know what else? We're good at seeing through people's lies."

He stepped closer but stopped a few paces from the other's back, the empty space silent and abandoned. The pink light of the deformed gateway cast Leo's shadow over Aoi's shell. It only hit his right arm and bathed the three fabrics in it too.

"And who better to crack that mask than me, the version of you that you created."

"You say that. But what does that even mean?"

Wow. He really did need to just outright say it, didn't he? Was he truly so oblivious to this?

"I'm you. You're me," Leo started. He sighed and tried to find the words but decided to just wing it this time. That was the only way to get through to this doofus. "And you know what? If it wasn't for you and Mikan sending Casey back in time, I wouldn't exist - not as I am now."

"And who are you now?"

"The leader of the TMNT. The guy who fumbled the Key, and saved the world. Someone beloved enough that Mikey ripped open a hole in reality to bring me back home. And… a kid."

Leo let the silence hang between them before continuing.

"You were a kid too. And you forgot that."

He was never supposed to have the world on his shoulders alone. No person could bear such weight by themselves. Raph had almost broken from that weight, and Leo tasted it himself. His future self had handled it well, no denying that, but there was no need for such burdens anymore.

Because it was over.

He had saved the world. Not his own perhaps, but this one. All because he managed to hold onto hope long enough, survived long enough, to send Casey back to them.

So why couldn't he just acknowledge and accept that?

"…I'm trying to save you, you idiot," he muttered, head drooping to stare at his own feet. His fists clenched at his sides. "Why do you have to make things so hard?"

A soft sniffle. Then another. And another. They trickled out like a cracked dam finally succumbing to the raging river.

Aoi curled more into himself, hands coming up to hold his own face. Those slim shoulders shook as quiet breaths hitched. And Leo watched in silence because he knew. There was no point in keeping his distance here.

The way his other self gasped softly as he wrapped his arms around the shoulders, forehead pressed to the back of the other's neck. A hesitant hand lightly grazed over his knuckles. And he waited.

Tension lining each muscle melted away. Regret fell around them as silver moonlight overpowered the pink, casting both of them back in sweet and gentle light.

"It had to be my fault," Aoi whispered, voice wet but uninhibited. "Because if it wasn't, then my brothers died for nothing. And I didn't want it all to have been for nothing."

That hand dared to hold onto his.

"I don't know how to let go of that. I… I don't think I can forgive myself, not when I caused all this."

"What about them? Do you think they'd blame you?"

"Never," breathed Aoi. The chuckle that followed was weak and drowning in guilt. "They'd never even think it, not sincerely."

Leo tightened his embrace ever so slightly. "…I don't either, you know."

A tear landed on the back of his hand.

"You're a better kid than I ever was."

"No. It means you're good too." He felt Aoi squeeze his hand. "Always have been. They're just waiting for you to get it."

"…I think I'm starting to."

"Good. Because it's not about you, or me. It's about all of us, together."

Anata wa hitori janai.

"You forgave me when you didn't have to, and never blamed me for my part in the invasion. So let me do that for you. Let me thank you for saving all of us."

Aoi chuckled again, life returning to his voice. "That sounds like something the world's greatest ninja would do."

"It is. After all, I learned that from you."

He pulled back and blinked, the teenager now replaced by the grown turtle he had come to treasure as family. Wrinkled Raph-chasm, tired and loving golden eyes, right arm a scarred stump, and shell cracked in places. All of that with his beloved scarf on his shoulders and the robes they had lovingly dressed him with for the past months.

They both stood, Leo unable to help his own smile when Aoi held him to his plastron for a one-armed hug. A gentle kiss was planted upon his head that made his entire self bloom with warmth.

"…Thank you, for loving me."

"You can thank me by coming home," he replied in kind.

Aoi nodded, letting Leo go, to walk back towards the pedestal where the Key waited. The pink of the gateway increased, malicious light trying to drown out all colour, and scare them back. But the older slider paid it no mind.

Leo's smile widened as the other's large hand ripped the totem off its altar. It was thrown to the ground and then shattered into stony splinters under Aoi's foot, vermillion soon consuming everything around them.

Once more, he fell down through the void.

And this time, they weren't alone.

.

.

.

"Leo? Leo! Leo, answer us!"

He groaned in response to the noise, hand reaching up to rub at his temple. Someone - Donnie - was holding his other wrist, checking his pulse as taught. There was warmth cushioning his shell and legs. Raph's lap, most likely. And then the hands on his knees had to Mikey.

Leo squeezed his eyes and opened them, blinking rapidly to clear his vision, before he saw the relief on his brothers' faces. He smiled up at them.

"Hey, I wasn't gone that long, was I?"

The hug they gave him almost forced the air out of him but he managed to return the affection with a few nuzzles and pats.

"How's Aoi?"

They loosened their embrace and Raph helped him get a view of the veterans crowded around the sickly slider. Shuiro was cradling a limp Aoi - now bereft of a breathing mask - in his lap, Mikan knelt to the side with hands planted on either side of their brother's head. Sumire, like Donnie, held a wrist to check for a pulse. Riley was right beside him with a hand on the softshell's shoulder.

Then, after a dreaded minute, Aoi's chest stuttered. It was quickly followed up by deeper inhales and weak, dry coughs but his eyes, more brown than gold, opened. Shuiro's tears fell unabated, Mikan bowing his head with a wide smile to touch his forehead to his brother's. Riley handed Sumire a glass of water that he quickly helped his twin drink.

Aoi was breathing on his own without need for a ventilator. He was awake and with them again.

Leo slumped against Raph's plastron with a sigh.

Splinter cooed over him shortly after, nearly squishing his face between clawed hands, while Draxum checked Aoi for any mystic complications. But from what he could see and hear, the older slider was expected to make a full recovery with proper care. Mystic supplements would be required for the first month or so, though.

The veterans rushed back to the med-bay as soon as that was done and Raph carried him after them, Splinter riding on the snapper's shoulder. Sure, he could walk, but not right now. The cured turtle was settled back into the bed by Sumire with Mikan making sure to fluff the pillows for extra comfort.

When he managed to catch the eye of his future self, Leo offered him a smile. And Aoi returned it weakly.

Yeah.

They were going to be okay.