Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He knew that they had changed. They rarely spoke to him anymore. Like they spoke to you so often before. His mind supplied. What would they even talk to you about? You’re nothing alike.  Of course, they didn’t have everything in common, they were their own turtles with their own personalities. And his bros had cool personalities. Donnie was so smart. He was a genius since mutation and there wasn’t a day in their mutant lives that Mikey didn’t think that his big bro was the smartest person on the planet.  Leo was stoic. He always knew what to do, the oldest brother was the perfect candidate to be leader in Mikey’s opinion, even if he joked that he should be leader. You would make a horrible leader. 

He had his headphones on, but not even his favorite music could drown out the sounds of Raph beating the absolute shell out of the training dummy across from him. Raph was strong and brave, he never let anything get in his way, even if it was Mikey. Especially if it’s you. You just can’t seem to keep out of his way. 

He had come to know this venomous voice well. No matter what Mikey did, it analyzed his actions mercilessly. It tore him apart, making his eyes water. But, he was out in the common room, he couldn’t risk crying here. He was tucked away in a corner, lounging in the tyre that hung above a deep pool of water. His red-clad brother kept punching and kicking at the dummy, yelling during each and every attack. Every time he made contact with the fake person, stuffed with straw and cotton, Mikey couldn’t help but flinch slightly. Ever since… since. Ugh. Mikey took a few breaths as his bright blue eyes blurred with tears. 

He breathed as quietly as he could, making himself face away from Raph, so he didn’t see the stray tear that moistened his mask slightly. Ever since the four of them lost their father, nothing has been the same. Mikey turned up his music as loud as he could, ignoring the voice in his head that sounded a lot like Donnie. Stop turning your music up so loud, Mikey, you’re going to give yourself hearing loss. Then not only will you have selective hearing, you’ll barely hear anything we do tell you. He sounded condescending and annoyed, as he usually did. And the orange-loving turtle gave himself a pat on the shell for coming up with such an accurate impression. 

The youngest Hamato let himself be lost in the music, following the rhythm and beat of the energetic song instead of following the dark rabbit hole his brain loved to bring him down. But despite his best efforts, he still remembered every painstaking detail of that night. How he held his Sensei -his dad’s- paw in his shaking hands. He sobbed for what felt like days. He cried so hard that he couldn’t speak for a few days afterwards. 

Not like they wanted you to talk. Anytime you tried to open your stupid mouth, they made sure to shut it for you. ‘Not now, Mikey.’ ‘Don’t say a fucking word! I don’t wanna hear whatever dumb shit you have to say!’ ‘I’m busy, Mikey, can’t you go bother Leo or Raph?’ ‘If you don’t have anything insightful to say, can you please keep it to yourself?’ ‘I have a pounding headache; can we please keep the peace and quiet?’ ‘Whatever you’re about to ask me, the answer is no.’ 

It hurt. It hurt really bad that his brothers didn’t even want to hear his voice. Before… Dad. It was bad, yes, they yelled at him. Raph would punch him, tackle him, scream until his eardrums rang. But at least he talked with him sometimes. Donnie would lock him out of the lab, condescendingly dumb down whatever he was saying to the level of a toddler when speaking with Mikey. But at least he would spend time with him. Leo never took into account anything he had to say and he never stopped things when they started going too far. Mikey knew that Leo was perceptive. He would watch as Raph hit him or Donnie disrespected him right in front of his face, and he did nothing about it. But Mikey wasn’t a soft-shell. He could handle it, being the youngest meant that this was just the way it had to be. Keep the natural order of things or something. 

Mikey took it like a trooper in his opinion. Even if Raph ever left him sore after a particular brutal takedown, he was back up and smiling a few minutes later. Even if he gained a new crack on his shell at some point, he kept on. Nobody ever noticed his pain. Leo had noticed, however, his underpar performance during training though, and made sure to give him a long lecture with a heedy look of disappointment in his eyes afterwards. 

Leo never really said anything degrading to Mikey, not like Raph or Donnie did. No, Leo was different. And for some reason it always stung more when it came from his eldest brother. His eyes said everything, their once deep and understanding blue grew cold and distant. He could take a full beatdown from Raph or a screaming outburst from Don, but the look of dissatisfaction and frustration in Leo’s eyes was all it took to bring Mikey to the verge of tears. 

A sharp pain erupted from his arm as something cold and wood hit him. He almost choked on the air in his throat. The wooden plank broke apart on impact, a few large splinters sticking out from his lime green skin. The movement shook his headphones off his head. What did you do this time?

“MIKEY! Turn your god-awful music down or I’ll wring the cord around your neck, ya hear me?!” Raph shouted from next to a completely dismantled training dummy. The sad sack that made its torso was left in shreds on the floor, cotton and straw strewn out everywhere. Raph growled loudly, and started stomping to where Mikey was. The youngest quickly paused his music, stopping the energetic electronic track that was playing. Raph stilled, about halfway the distance he had been earlier. 

Mikey looked down at the water below him, the pieces of wood floating on the top of the small pool. He felt some blood slowly trickling down his arm, the orange turtle finally registering the damage he received. Raph let out a huff, somehow missing Mikey’s injuries. 

“Can’t you go be a fucking nuisance somewhere else?” Mikey stared at his big brother with large eyes. Wow, you don’t even have to try anymore. You can push his buttons just by existing. He could somehow feel the smirk behind the voice. He heard the door to the dojo swing open, and he turned to see Leo exiting. He cracked his mouth open slightly.

“Don’t, Mikey. If you want to bother someone, just go see Donnie or something. I do not have the patience for you today.” 

With that, Leo strode away, Raph turned from him. 

“GO! I don’t want you here!” The hot-headed turtle threw over his shoulder, before grabbing the set of tools and replacement training dummy parts. Mikey slid from the tyre, landing on the grey concrete to his right. He slightly swayed on his feet, looking behind him to look at the rippling water again. A few drops of deep red blood stained the clarity of the pool, the liquid separating into ribbons as it dissolved into the water surrounding it. Mikey gripped his MP3 player with his left hand, keeping his injured right arm at his side. His chest felt so heavy. Like when you eat too much pizza, and your stomach feels so full it makes you nauseous. Only now, it felt like his lungs were full of pizza dough. It rose up his throat, creating awkward lumps for him to swallow down as he mindlessly made his way to the purple turtle’s lab. Pizza dough rose, right? Yes, it had yeast and baking soda. What a stupid question. 

Mikey reached the genius’ door, pausing to take a deep breath. He swallowed the dough, allowing it to settle at the bottom of his lungs, before continuing. He knocked a few times and waited patiently. Mikey didn’t have it in him to make anyone else mad at him today, he’d had enough today. He was tired, but he needed to keep it up, his brothers needed him. He slowly heaved the heavy door as he entered. The lab was almost pitch black, except for the many computer monitors that Don was working on. 

“Mikey.” Donnie sounded immediately ticked off, but he never once tore his eyes off of the computer screens. “I heard something break out there. I’m busy and no, I’m not going to fix whatever it is that broke.” 

“D-Donnie?” Mikey’s voice was rough from disuse, with an added stutter that he didn’t know had developed. He looked warily at the wood chips that were embedded in his arm. He closed the distance between them, now standing only a few feet behind the tallest turtle. “I-I need h-h-help.” Donnie took a deep breath, a slight whistle on the exhale as the breath travelled through the gap in his front teeth. 

“I. Am. Busy. I’m sick of going around behind you and fixing every goddamn mistake you make! Help yourself for once. Now please let me be so I can focus.” Donnie let his anger flare, but he just didn’t seem to have the energy to flat-out yell at his little brother. Mikey felt the front of his mask stick to his skin with how wet it was becoming. He hadn’t even realised that he was crying. He turned, holding one of his hands against his chest, pushing at his plastron, he started to run out of the lab. Only to be stopped as his hip knocked a few items off a metal table. He hadn’t seen it in the pitch black of the room and the blurring of the tears in his eyes. Mikey fell to the floor, the items tumbling down after him. Some of the sharp metal scraped against his shell, making a horrible noise and only worsening the previous hairline crack that was there. A very heavy piece of equipment came next, landing directly on his right shoulder. The hunk of metal plunged some of the stakes of wood farther into his skin and he let out a pained scream. 

“MIKEY!” Donnie had whipped around in his chair, eyes whited out in uncontrollable rage. Mikey panicked through his tears, picking himself up before putting the equipment back on the table he ran into. Donnie watches him, fists clenched and shaking in anger. Mikey quickened his pace, frantically placing all the metal pieces back on the table, starting to hyperventilate. All he had left was the really heavy piece, he wrapped his arms around it, before pulling it up from the ground. But he was shaky, crying hysterically, and exhausted. He fell back because of the inertia of the huge metal chunk. He landed on his shell, the metal landing squarely on his chest. He feels the weight quickly start to crush him. He let out a silent scream. Due to the jostling, the machinery hummed to life, glowing a dim pinkish purple, before suddenly crackling with energy. 

Donnie’s eyes go wide, losing their previous anger. His mouth hangs open before he walks a few steps ahead to help get the metal machine from on top of Mikey. Before he can reach him though, the thing hums dangerously and starts crackling even more fervently before an explosion of bright light illuminates the room. Donnie has to shield his eyes, which were just recently used to extreme darkness. 

Mikey can’t breathe, he cries pitifully, not heard over the scary humming and buzzing of the apparatus currently on him. Suddenly, his world goes white. 

Cover art by KanaliaOFF:

Chapter Text

His brothers and him have been through a lot. The kid has been through the wringer as well, Casey Junior seemed to be acclimating to the best of his ability, but it wasn’t lost on Leon that he still held onto old habits. Casey was anxious, always kept his weapon within arm’s length, and his shoulders were constantly tense. CJ still laughed and smiled along with the rest of his family, but that didn’t stop Leon from worrying about him. 

“What’s gotcha looking like dat, Leo?” Raph came up from behind him, he turned his entire body to face the shorter brother. Leon takes in a deep sigh. 

“Fuck Raph, you’ve got me acting like the worrywart now. I think you gave me the lame disease. I gotta stop hanging around you so much before I fully transition to lame -onardo.” Leon chuckles while he elbows Raph in his plastron. Raph rolls his good eye, cracking a small smile. 

“Sorry Bud, it might be chronic, I don’t think there's a cure.” Raph snorts out, while Leon starts into some dramatic monologue. Angelo and Don look up from their seats to watch Leo fall to his knees. The red-eared slider shuts his eyes, tears rolling out over his cheeks. He squeezes both of his hands into fists, holding them up to the ceiling. 

“Oh, why?! What ever powerful deity hath looked down upon me on this day and decidith that I shall suck for the rest of all time?” Angelo breaks out into a fit of giggles while Donnie looks slightly unimpressed. 

“You call those actor’s tears? Your crying on command is weak, Leon.” Don inspects the bright designs that Angelo is painting onto his nails as he speaks, blowing on them softly. He quirks a drawn-on eyebrow at his twin before continuing with his manicure. 

“Don’t worry Leon, I'm sure that whoever god cursed you will feel bad about it later and take it back.” Miguel beamed before focusing back on Don’s nails. Leon smiles, drying the tear tracks on his mask before smirking at his purple-clad twin. 

“You think my crying on command is weak? I’d like to see you do any better.” Leon mocked slightly, sticking out his tongue childishly. The lair is filled with laughter. CJ was now chuckling while he watched Angelo work. He paused his careful painting and held up a small bottle of nail polish as an invitation. Casey took the bottle before holding the colour up to his other hand. 

“It doesn’t gotta be that one, I have so many colours.” Angelo finished Don’s design with a flick of his wrist as he spoke. His demeanour shifted almost immediately. “Don. Wait for your nails to dry before touching anything. I swear if I see that you chipped my art only a few hours after I put it on you, I won't be happy.” Almost as quickly as the intimidating air enveloped Angelo, it dissipated. Leaving the small paint-covered turtle looking deceptively innocent at CJ and Leon. Casey had picked his colour from the bag Angelo had but was now regretting every decision he had made up to this point. Leon, clapped a hand on CJ’s back nudging him closer to Miguel.

“Good luck out there, soldier.” Leon gives an over-exaggerated salute to Casey before running away. 

“No! You can't leave me at his mercy!” Casey after him as Angelo cackles maniacally in the background. Don pretends to wipe a tear from his eye, flicking it to the ground as he spoke. 

“Oh, Mikey is growing up so fast, I'm so proud. The deranged laugh I taught him is starting to come in handy.” Leon is able to hear the murmuring and laughter of his family fade slightly as he runs farther from the common room. He was gleefully skipping around, hoping to stay out of sight for a few minutes, just to let Casey stir for a big longer. As he passed by Donnie’s lab, he was blinded momentarily. Leon held up a hand to shield his eyes. He shouts in surprise and falls back from the doors. A loud buzzing noise is heard from inside the lab and bright pinkish-purple lightning streaks out from the slightly ajar doors. Leon hears as the laughter almost immediately dies down from the common room. He looks away from the very bright light to see his entire family running down the hallway, their eyes filled with concern. 

The light disappears as quickly as it emerged. The magenta lightning retreated behind the lab doors before the room was plunged into darkness again. Leon feels his youngest brother slide to his side, tears already threatening to fall. Raph is very tense and Casey looks ready to murder whatever was disturbing their relaxing day. 

“Hey guys, hey. I’m alright, I’m good. Look.” He proceeded to stretch out all of his limbs, allowing everyone to check him over for obvious injuries. 

“You screamed.” Raph said unsteadily. Angelo cuddles into his side, gripping onto the left side of his plastron and shell. 

“I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you guys. I was just… shocked was all.” Each member of his family each relaxed their faces in fake annoyance one-by-one. The first was Raph, followed by April, then Casey. 

“If you were shocked by the purple lightning it isn’t something to joke about, you could have nerve damage, can lead to heart problems and OMIGOSH I just realised what you said, and I’m going to kill you!” Donnie’s drawn-on eyebrows furrowed as he facepalmed. Leon’s mischievous smile grows as he chuckles at his twin's response. 

The eldest brother still seems at edge, but he is smiling in relief, his snaggletooth on display. Leon places a hand on Angelo’s splotched shoulder, rubbing soothing circles on the smooth skin. He notices as the scars on his arms slightly glow brighter before dimming, almost in time with his fast heartbeat. Leon’s smile falters. 

“Hey, baby bro. What’s up?” He decides to ask. Miguel raises his head, tear tracks obviously present on his face, his eyes watery, as more threaten to fall. 

“I thought you were being taken away from us again.” Ah, yeah. The prison dimension was not fun, and of course his littlest brother would be worrying about it, he was the one who got him out. A pang of guilt hit Leon before he hugged him. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Angelo.” His hand moved to his younger brother's head, continuing his soothing circles there. They had talked all of this out, after the entire thing, Miguel had made sure that they dealt with their trauma in healthy ways. But they all still felt the aftereffects. 

The younger one wiped the tears off his face before smiling brightly.

“I’m happy you aren’t, Leo.” He saw them all nod enthusiastically. Leon then stood up, pulling Angelo up with him and dusting the both of them off. 

“Now that we all made sure Nardo is fine and all, what the fuck happened in my lab?” Donnie quickly changed topics, slightly uncomfortable with the emotional air that surrounded the family now. 

“Well, there's only one way to find out. Everyone; stay behind me!” Raph heaved the doors open, letting the light from the hall filter into the dark room. He kept an eye out (You thought you were safe from the puns just because Leo isn’t talking? Oh, hell naw.) He had his fists clenched, ready for anything to pop up from the shadows. 

“Why are you…?” Donnie asks, a deeply confused look in his face. Raph turns to him, returning his confusion. Donnie holds his right hand to the wall beside the door, flipping the lights on quickly. Raph seems to immediately heat up, rubbing a hand behind his head in embarrassment with a soft ‘oh’. The others snicker before entering the now decently lit room. Raph turns back and freezes. Angelo begins to run towards where Raph is looking, laughing. 

“So, what are we looking for, guys? Oop-” He is picked up by Raph, stopping him from running any further. “Woah.” He looks on, almost with stars in his eyes. The others gather with them both, each taken aback by what they find lying on the floor. “It’s a… turtle? Like us?” His older brothers all seemed to nod; eyes still wide. The turtle in question was laying on their side, shell facing the group. Miguel lets out a short gasp. “Their shell is so round.” Seemingly sensing the extra noise in the room, the mysterious turtle groans quietly and shifts on the cool concrete. The group freezes, fearing what would happen should the turtle be awoken. 

Despite their best (not really) efforts, the unknown turtle was slowly gaining consciousness. 

Chapter Text

Mikey woke to a pulsing pain in his chest and shoulder. A few murmurs brought his attention to the fact that he was not alone in the room. Raph? Donnie? Leo? That you bros? 

“Their shell is so round.” He hears from behind him. It’s a voice he doesn’t recognise, which is incredibly worrisome.  He stirred and softly groaned in pain, and it fell silent behind him. They stayed like that for an excruciating minute or so, both parties waiting with bated breath. Mikey weighed his options, still a bit confused on where exactly he was. He chose the best option in his opinion. Oh, this’ll be good. 

He raised his hands in surrender the best he could with the impaled wood in his shoulder. He was shaking almost violently from fear and the effort it took to keep his arm upright. He heard a sharp intake of breath like a wince from behind his shell. 

“I-I don’t w-wanna f-f-fight.” Woah you sound so sad and weak. Pathetic. 

“Uh. Little guy, what happened to you? Are you alright?” A warm voice resounded, he felt almost at ease with the palpable concern laced in the words. A warm hand entered his peripherals before he met kind-looking eyes. One of them widens and he comes face-to-face with a red bandana. Panic. 

Mikey screams as he backs away from the green and hulking turtle. He crawls backwards as quickly as his exhausted body lets him. The turtle in the red bandana is fucking huge, with a sharp tooth jutting out the right side of his mouth and sharp spikes protruding from around his shell. This was Raph, but this Raph was big and scary and looked like he could snap him in two if he so much as breathed wrong. 

“Woah woah, no. You’re okay little guy. Nobody is gonna hurt ya.” The voice belonged to this Raph? 

“Yes, if we could not scream again, that would be great.” A turtle wearing purple says slightly sheepishly. The purple-clad turtle, who Mikey guessed was Donnie, and the rest of them came into focus. They all stood behind the giant Raph. The turtle with the blue mask came forward, he had red markings over his eyes, and he was holding his hands out as if trying to comfort an unpredictable and wild animal. 

“You’re hurt.” He gestured to Mikey’ shoulder. “We can help you, if you let us.” Mikey had stopped trying to crawl away, he could feel new wet tears re-tracing the stains the old tears had left. 

“L-Leo?” They all seemed to be immediately taken aback by this, eyes blowing wide that Mikey knew his name.  Welp, you fucked up. The turtle wearing Leo's mask nods his head, like in a trance. 

“Uh. Yeah. That’s me.” He pauses for a brief second. 

“Hey! We have matching masks!” A forest green turtle with yellow splotches and a familiar orange mask pops out of seemingly nowhere. Mikey is able to quell the scream this time, but he flings himself backwards, away from the turtle that got the jump on him. He crashes into a table in his panic. The beakers and fragile items on top of it come crashing down on top of him with a loud shattering sound. Mikey attempts to catch a beaker, only for it to break as it hits his hand. It explodes into millions of tiny painful shards. 

“Oh shit, sorry dude. I didn’t know you were so jumpy.” The forest green turtle crawls closer from where he froze. He stops outside the ring of broken glass that surrounded Mikey. Said lime turtle wasn’t paying attention, instead his focus was on cleaning the shards as quickly as he possibly could. 

“I-I’m s-sorry. I-I’m so sorry. I’ll p-pick it u-u-up. I didn’t m-mean to Donnie, I’m sorry.” He frantically began scooping at the mess, the sounds of crunching glass filling the nearly desolate lab. He was smearing blood on the ground while he continued babbling a long line of ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I’m cleaning it’. 

“No! Little guy! You’re hurting yourself. Stop.” The big Raph ran over, grabbing onto his arms, to stop him from continuing to cut himself on the glass. He freezes once Big Raph’s hands encircle his wrists. He’s hoisted from under the table and set back on the ground that's free from glass shards. 

“It’s just a few beakers, Leo and Mikey break them all the time. It’s not a very big deal. They can be replaced easily.” Donnie speaks carefully. The other him returns with a thick medkit. Mikey hadn’t seen him leave to grab it. Leo takes it from the other Mikey's hands and very carefully crouches in front of him. 

“Hey, April, can you get the broom?” He hears Big Raph’s deceptively nice voice. He can’t see him though, which causes Mikey to visibly tense. Is Raph gonna beat you with a broom? Oh, it's going to leave some marks, if he doesn’t kill you. The girl Mikey guesses is April left the room. Leo had scooted closer to him. 

“I need you to trust me, okay? I need to get all the glass and wood from you before they get infected.” He turns from Mikey to Donnie. “Can you get the numbing? It's probably gonna hurt like a bitch without it.” Donnie nods before turning and rummaging through a metal drawer in a desk. April returned with the broom, throwing it across the room, presumably being caught by the Big Raph. Donnie returns with a small pouch; he unwraps the small cylindrical packaging to reveal a small butterfly needle. Holy shit. How could this get any better? A needle? You already look terrified, but I bet you look like the biggest bitch right now. Leo takes the syringe from Don’s hands, connecting it with the numbing serum in the tiny bottle. Mikey could hear the crunching of glass as it got dragged across the concrete. He wanted to look behind him, watch what the Big Raph was doing, but he couldn’t break eye contact with the needle. Leo obviously noticed his fear, because it’s Leo and Leo notices everything. “Hey, Raph. He’s scared of needles; can you do the thing you do for Angelo?” The sweeping stops and Mikey’s blood runs cold. Every possible thing that Leo could be asking the Big Raph to do to make sure he doesn’t have trouble with the needle. None of them were good. 

Mikey hears the soft but thundering footsteps of the Big Raph coming up behind him. Of course, he freaks out, he turns to face the giant as he approaches. 

“P-please don’t, Raphie. I-I’ll stay still. I-If you h-hold me d-d-down, you’ll c-crush me.” The Big Raph falters, looking at him with an indecipherable look in his eyes. He slows before sitting on the floor and shrinking as small as he possibly could, which isn’t small at all. 

“I wouldn’t hold ya down, little guy. Why would I? When I could introduce you to…” He reaches a hand behind him before slowly bringing it back to his front, a brightly coloured, but dirty sock, now covering his massive hand. It was a baby pink sock with white felt stapled around it, resembling a lab coat. It had two googly eyes and was covered in faded stars. “This is Doctor Ouchies. He comes out anytime you really need him to help you when you have an ouchie.” He switches to a silly voice as he moves the sock puppet around. “I’ll be ya Doctor for today. Aw, look at you.” he moves the sock puppet to look Mikey up and down. “You look like you’re hurt. Don’t worry, the Doctor will make you feel all better.” As he does the silly voice, he moves the sock puppet's mouth. Mikey feels the pain in his shoulder lesson; Big Raph continues with his sock puppet show. The other Mikey came over to watch as well. 

“I love Doctor Ouchies.” Angelo gushes over the heavily worn sock puppet. Mikey’s heartbeat slows slightly, the panic subsiding momentarily. There’s a small clink sound to his right. He sees around half a dozen large splinters of wood in a plastic petri dish, Leo has another in a set of tweezers. They are all soaked in dark red blood. Mikey can’t help as his eyes trail back to his shoulder, a few open wounds bleeding freely. 

“Hey, hey, little guy. Maybe we should focus on Doctor Ouchies?” Big Raph shakes the puppet, making the eyes roll around humorously. “How about a story?”

“Doctor Ouchie’s stories are always the best.” The other Mikey looks over to him, flashing a bright smile. Remember when you were like that? 

“Alright. Once upon a time, there was a magical kingdom with two princes. On the day they were born, an evil wizard infiltrated the castle and broke into the princes’ room. He tried to put a curse on them, but their father, the King, was there to protect them. But the wizard escaped and vowed that he would return. He-” Mikey yelped in pain as it felt like his shoulder was being pulled apart. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. This one was really deep. But it was the last one, it’s over.” Leo put the freakishly large sliver of wood into the petri dish, He started rubbing a damp cloth, that smelt heavily of alcohol, along the open wounds. Mikey flinched, waiting for the sting, when it never came, he looked confused. Leo chuckled a bit. “I was able to numb the area with the needle while Doctor Ouchies talked to you.” Mikey looked on in amazement as Leo expertly wrapped the soft bandages around his arm. 

“Y-you’re the m-medic, Leo?” He nods, a soft smile on his face. “Oh. I-In my d-dimension Don d-does it.” Donnie perks up from where he was sitting. 

“In your dimension?” He quirked an eyebrow. 

“Y-yeah. I-I’m an alternate v-version of y-y-your guys’ Mikey.” He holds up his uninjured arm to gesture to the other turtle sitting next to him. “It s-sounds crazy, I-I know. But, m-my bros and I have gone to other dimensions.” 

“So, let me get this right. You are Michelangelo from a different dimension. Which would be proof of alternate realities as well as ways to transport between said universes. We already knew of the existence of alternate timelines or at least time travel, but adding the limitless possibilities of a multiverse makes…” Donnie trails off, before typing vigorously into the small metal screen on his wrist. He looks up after a minute. “Thank you for confirming the multiverse, you are invaluable.” 

“I kinda gathered that you were Mikey, I just didn’t wanna say something in case I was wrong.” Leo scraps the wooden slivers into a trashcan, before sitting down, in front of Mikey this time. “Now, this is going to hurt a bit, I can’t numb your hands, because you kind of need them, but we will get through this, okay?” Leo takes both of his bloodied hands in his, carefully brushing some of the loose glass off. Angelo pipes up from next to him. 

“You have freckles? That’s so cool, I wish I had freckles, man.” Mikey smiles. “You have dimples too!?” 

“Y-yeah, R-Raph says that it’s b-babyfat. But, I-I’m 16, I j-just l-l-look like this.” 

“Hey, little guy-Mikey- what else does your Raph tell you?” 

“He sounds like a real dickwad.” 

“Leon!” 

“What? I calls it like I sees it.” 

“No. M-my bros are j-just going through a r-rough patch r-r-right now. They’re not usually t-too bad.” Leon hums while he continues working on his hands. 

“And what about you?” Miguel has somehow changed into a sweater vest and glasses and is writing in a small notepad. 

“Yeah, actually, how did you get stabbed by wood chips?” 

“U-uh.” Everyone looked up to look at Mikey, patiently awaiting his answer. “Ha ha. Y-ya know.” he chuckles nervously. “I w-was doing r-r-regular Michelangelo things. B-being a nuisance a-a-and all. And Raph t-threw a w-wooden plank at me.” 

Chapter Text

“I w-was doing r-r-regular Michelangelo things. B-being a nuisance a-a-and all. And Raph t-threw a w-wooden plank at me.” Leon freezes his ministrations on Mikey’s hands, looking up at him. Everyone in the room visibly paled. 

“Your dimension is being attacked by the Krang? Raph got infected?” Donnie asks in an even tone, almost sounding uninterested, despite the fear in his eyes. Speaking of eyes, Leon was looking at Mikey. It’s probably more accurate to say that Leon was looking through Mikey, eyes glazed over and hazy. Mikey swore that if he looked deep enough into Leon’s eyes, he could see the very memory he was reliving in that moment. Mikey stayed still and silent, waiting for Leon to exit his trance naturally. He paused for any signs of distress from the other turtle. The room seemed to shift in the uncomfortable silence. Until Leon exhaled a breath, he didn’t notice he had been holding. 

“Whew, sorry guys. I didn’t mean to space out like that. I…” He trailed off and took a deep breath. “I was just reminded of how when our Raph was infected.” 

“There’s really no need to apologise, Nardo. I should say that I am sorry. I brought up a traumatic topic.” Donnie seemed to shrink into his purple hoodie, playing with the destroyed strings. 

“Leon. Thank you so much for expressing your feelings and trusting us enough to tell us what happened.” Angelo spoke incredibly softly, smiling as he scribbled more notes on a different notepad. He fixed his glasses when he took a moment to ponder what he had written, before documenting further. With that out of the way, Mikey had the time to mull over the question that Donnie had asked him. 

“W-what do y-you mean b-b-by ‘Infected’?” 

“Well.” The Big Raph swallowed hard, clearing his throat awkwardly, before continuing. “I was mind controlled by the Krang. And they made me do horrible things to my brothers.” Mikey saw The Big Raph clench his fists in frustration, only a small amount of fear wafting down his neck. “I had to fight really hard against it in order to not… kill them.” The Big Raph seemed to shake a bit, wiping a small tear that hadn’t fallen from his eye yet. Angelo slowly stands from his spot on the cement floor, dropping his notepad and instead wrapping his brothers hulking shoulders in a tight hug. 

“You would never hurt us on purpose Raph. And, look! We’re all here, in one piece.” The Big Raph turned his head to let his good eye take in the smiling faces of his family. He seemed to relax, smiling goofily, his sharp tooth gleaming in the soft light. “And, Donnie…” Miguel turned his head to face the purple brother, mid-hug. “You do not have to apologise about bringing this up. It’s something our new friend needs to know about, because maybe he can relate.” 

“T-There was a time w-where Raph h-had a b-brain w-w-worm in him. I-It brainwashed h-him to f-fight a-alongside t-t-the Shredder.” The brothers all nodded encouragingly. “There w-w-was also t-the giant, mutant w-wasps a-and P-P-Pizza face and…” Mikey trailed off, his memory failing to conjure up other past situations. He felt a cool hand rest softly on his shoulder, he only tensed for a second, before relaxing into the comfortable hand. 

“You guys have been through a lot, huh, little guy? We haven’t fought those things.” 

“Woah. Wasps? Who’s Pizza face? Those sound so cool!” Mikey let out an embarrassed chuckle as his counterpart gushed over the enemies he had faced. He slowly opened up about both situations, explaining his fear of his brothers in those sole moments. How he surprised his brothers by synthesising the vaccine to the wasp parasites. How he outsmarted all three of them in order to administer the doses needed. Then, he talked about how he felt bad about hurting his brothers. Even if they were under the control of a sentient pile of pizza. 

“You’re practically a licensed entomologist if you were able to create a cure to mutant parasitic wasps. I very rarely venture into the realm of chemistry, and you did something under those conditions was very brave. It fills me with a sense of pride that I do not enjoy the feeling of.”

“N-naw. It was a-all Donnie, h-he told m-m-me how t-to make i-it.” 

“Nonsense, Mikey, you were able to put together a vaccine to save your brothers, pretty much by yourself. You said yourself that he explained the process once and as he went through, he was fighting against the control of the parasite. And you were able to do the very thing he couldn’t fight through himself.” Mikey couldn’t help the blush that grew on his face. He shook his head. Everyone joined the four of them on the floor, except for Donnie, who stayed in his rollie chair. Leon had finished wrapping up his wounded hands long ago and The Big Raph returned Doctor Ouchie back to wherever he pulled it from. He looked over to see a human teenager sitting cross-legged close to him and Leon. He barely noticed him before, but from context clues, he could assume that this was this universe’s Casey. 

“I-It was m-m-my fault a-anyway.” Casey seemed to tsk. Mikey slightly shrunk at the anger. 

“No, I think the fault falls on your leader. Leo, right? He shouldn’t have let the wasp chase you for so long, you said that the thing chased you around that room for minutes without any of them doing anything. He didn’t even listen to you and then made you bait. Looks like I might have to have another talk with another Leonardo about leadership.” Casey looks smugly at the turtle with the blue bandana next to Mikey. Leon’s face morphed from the look of concern he had plastered on his face into a sheepish one. “You had the ability to defeat all three of your brothers by yourself and he chose to make you bait.” Casey chuckles and shakes his head, obviously amused at the supposedly stupidity of Leo. 

“W-Well I h-hadn’t d-done t-that yet.” Mikey bristled. They looked at him with a knowing look. This drove some confusion through Mikey, as he looked between the many sets of eyes that looked at him. He tried to sink into his shell, the unexpected praise and unwavering eye contact rendering him a bit self-conscious. But, he had noticed that the longer he stayed with them, the less the horrible voice talked down to him. 

Chapter Text

The family unit sat on the floor of Donatello’s lab for an indistinguishable amount of time. Leon was able to bear witness as Mikey seemed to bloom. He slowly opened up, his stutter, while still present, was much less extreme than just a few hours ago. Miguel immediately took to him, comparing their likes and dislikes. He searched for the slight alterations in character: Angelo preferred to paint, Mikey liked to draw, Miguel enjoyed fashion, Mikey had an extensive comic book collection, Angelo was a really good cook, while Mike loved to dance. 

It was fascinating to say the least. There were a few hushed reminders to Tello to not ruin the moment by frantically forwarding the research of this interdimensional discovery. He kept asking slightly uncomfortable questions that made Mikey sputter and think about how to answer carefully. Despite the tension that melted from Mikey’s stocky frame, he still seemed awkwardly guarded: avoiding certain questions, shifting his eyes in uncharacteristic alertness, and had less of his own brother’s sunny disposition. 

“You never actually answered the question.” April speaks confidently towards their newcomer. “Are the Krang invading New York in your dimension right now? Should we be trying to find ways to send you back?” Mikey shook his head in a negative response before his eyes widened. He brought a three-fingered hand to his mouth in shock. Immediately everyone in the room was put on edge. Leon couldn’t catch himself from asking something in a slightly panicked tone then cursing himself for his lack of control over his voice. 

“What’s wrong, Mikey?” Raph and Leon both leaned forward with the intent to provide as much comfort to their distressed, alternate, baby brother. Mikey didn’t notice their concern as he wrapped his arms around himself. He didn’t even compartmentalise the reactions of those around him and instead started mumbling to himself. But, he was loud enough and the others around him were quiet enough that he was easily heard. 

“I can’t believe I-I left. I-I haven’t e-even t-t-thought about g-g-going home. S-Sweet Mother o-of Mutation, I-I’m a h-horrible br-brother. F-Fuck…” Hot tears built in his eyes, the sharp pain of a dehydration headache was quickly developing within his skull. He felt a large, warm, and comforting hand settle on the top of his shell. The hairline cracks were impossible to see without incredibly close inspection. He winced slightly as electric pain shot through his back and spine, he whimpered. He was shaken from his downward spiral as the pain subsided and the pizza dough that stuck in his lungs and oesophagus dissolved slightly. He was embraced in an entanglement of green limbs. He hiccupped in confusion as his head was pulled under the chin of the other Leonardo. Angelo wrapped his hand around Mikey’s, and Donnie was stroking a tentative hand on his head. He could tell it was Donnie because of the rhythmic and equal pats. 

“I’m guessing the head shake was meant to signify that the Invasion is not happening currently.” Donnie said coolly, not ceasing his robotic administrations. Mikey preened at all the attention he was receiving, but his gut twisted as that horrible voice in his head broke through his subconscious. Your brothers are back home, worried about you, trying to rectify your mistake in order to bring you back. And you’re seeking comfort from an alternate version of your family. They’re hugging you, why are they hugging you? Mikey’s brain-to-mouth filter was momentarily deactivated as he parroted the question in his head to the turtles and humans holding him in their embraces. 

“W-Why are you h-hugging me?” He hadn’t meant to sound so utterly lost. Like a child left in front of a fire station, not fully aware of the gravity of their situation just yet. Not comprehending that this exact moment was going to impact their life immensely as they watched their parents drive away from the building. Instantly, they untangled themselves from him. He shivered as the brisk air of being underground hit his lime skin and nearly choked out a sob at the loss of contact. Weak. Totally did not ask for your opinion right now dude. 

“Do you... not like physical contact?” The Big Raph tried, keeping himself at a short arm's length from Mikey. “That is perfectly fine, Don isn’t really fond of it either. We can figure out other ways to emotionally support you.” Raphie smiled and sent two thumbs up in his direction. 

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, bro. I thought you were like me and didn’t mind some good physical touches.” Miguel looked genuinely apologetic even though his assumption was a hundred percent correct. Mikey couldn’t rationalise it to himself, he thrived off of kisses and hugs when he and his brothers were younger. But, what has changed? He still yearned for it, was starved for it even, but he couldn’t bring himself to accept their comfort. It’s probably a trap, they’re probably luring you in with things they know you enjoy. You know, Raph, Donnie and Leo wouldn’t give away an emotional embrace like that so freely. Something here is suspicious. That feeling, anxiety he guessed, around his usually iron stomach, made him slightly nauseous. He pushed down his doubts, wanting desperately to see the best in people. But, it didn’t stop that annoyingly persistent voice in his head. 

Leo must have noticed his troubled thought process, because of course. Leo notices everything. 

“Hey, you don’t have to feel bad. We can give compliments and praise, which Donnie really likes. We could just be here to listen if you need someone or spend some time with you. Whatever you need. Also, if I know you like I know my own brother, you do have your differences, but you are a wonderful brother. Don’t tell Raph or Don, but Mikey, you are my favourite brother.” Leon gave an exaggerated wink and smiled brightly, seemingly forgetting that he had an episode earlier that day. Mikey could only curl in on himself; his stomach lurched. It was disconcerting how… emotionally available? Were those the words? They felt right, but also foreign. Mikey didn’t know how to feel; he could see his brother, who wasn’t his brother. 

The emotions pulsing through his veins were novel, new, and awkward. Just as the comfort and hugging had calmed him, the praise lifted a weight off his chest. It dissolved a portion of the dough. He could breathe a little deeper, but each breath stung his sensitive lungs. It was bittersweet and left him with a sour taste in his mouth. It was like finally removing a plastic drink ring from around his neck, but his first unhindered inhale consisted of ash and smoke. It burned; Mikey could practically feel the pain seeping into his ribcage. He just couldn’t decide if he loved being here or despised the torture it put him through. Where is this even coming from? How could he even attempt to describe his feelings if he couldn’t decipher his thoughts on his own? 

Chapter Text

“I n-need to get back to t-t-them. I-I waited t-too long to e-even think about it.” Mikey shook his head, disappointed and ashamed of himself. “I-I don’t want to s-seem ungrateful. Yo-you guys have d-d-done so much for m-me already. D? I-I need your h-help more, though. S-So I can get h-home.” The turtle in question stood up from his chair. Donnie looked apprehensive; his drawn-on eyebrows knitted together in a twinge of concern.

“I… Yeah, I might need an assist from Michael about interdimensional travel.” Don turns to his little brother, a questioning look in his eyes. "I’ve been wanting to harness your mystic powers to see if we could open portals, but figured after… The ‘everything’ that happened, I figured I should wait on it.” Donnie looks uncharacteristically bashful. Angelo smiles brightly at his brother, nodding enthusiastically.

“Hell yeah! Tello, I’d love to lend some mystic powers to help you and my twin out.” Miguel beamed. Leon looks taken aback, placing a dramatic hand over the left side of his chest. 

“You attempt to take twin privileges from Donnie and I?” There’s an intense look in his eye. A look of rivalry, daring Angelo to challenge him and Don. He dared him. 

“Yeah, we can have twin-on-twin head-to-heads. A little competition never hurt no one.” The sticker-clad Mikey shrugged, acting nonchalant while fully knowing what he was doing. The little shit. He was aware that he was poking the insanely chaotic bear that was the disaster twins, but the thought of finally having a twin of his own to have the ability to even threaten this overshadowed any speck of self-preservation in his body. Mikey notices that even if they are pulled off track, Leo is trying to goad them back to thinking seriously. Leo is the one that derailed their conversation, but that’s beside the point. Angelo raised an eyebrow ridge and exuded confidence, a confidence Mikey wished he still had. Mikey felt the ash and smoke curling in his lungs. He forced himself to breathe through it. He was still getting comforted by the Big Raph and Don while the alternate version of himself and alternate Leo bickered playfully. He has tuned out their play-fight to focus on the burn in his lungs. Now the dough was puffing up, getting hot, sticky and humid. His lungs became an oven that baked the pastry, but the searing heat radiated from his chest. 

This was figurative, of course, he wasn’t so stupid that he thought his chest was combusting for no reason. There is a reason; you just don’t want to admit it. Ugh. Shut up. You are horrible, you know that? You know this feeling yet refuse to give it a name. You don’t know how to listen, do you? I do not have time for you, go away. Don’t those words sound oh so familiar? The exact words your brothers would tell you whenever you were being too much of a bother to talk to. Guess you aren’t so different from them. Mikey doesn’t have a mental response to this. Horrible, just like them. My bros are awesome! Not to you. And here you are, watching an alternate version of yourself having the brothers you always wished your own to be. You are a horrible person, Michelangelo. The way I know is because the only thing you feel when you’re here is jealousy. That burn, that blistering heat, is your true feelings. You are horrible because of how you look at a different you. You’re looking at a you that is innocent and happy and has all the things you’ve always wanted. And you hate him just as much as you hate yourself. 

Mikey felt Donnie’s hand on his head again and suddenly he’s pulled out of the twisted conversation with that horrible voice in his head. He’s brought back out into the world to hear and see and smell and feel again. He looks at Leon’s and Angelo’s continued bickering and hears a small huff come from the turtle behind him, the turtle with his hand on his head. 

“I can practically hear you overthinking. It’s weird because that’s my thing, not a Mikey thing. What is going on with you? You are my brother, yes, but you also seem… different.” Don is speaking rather softly, obviously trying to keep this an A and B conversation. Leo notices though. Probably because of the twin connection he has with Donnie. More likely because Leo notices everything. The play-fight seemed to have come to a halt, and he looks concerned for the other Mikey. He hates bringing the mood down, but even Leon knew when a more sombre, delicate touch was needed. He took a stab in the dark at a conversation that might be close to the million possible things that could be bothering the smaller turtle. 

“Miss your brothers?” He asks, trying to be covert in his prodding. Raph makes motions with his hands, trying to tell Leon to cut it off and stop trying to pry. Mikey doesn’t see them thankfully; he’s sitting with his shell to the Big Raph. Speaking of Mikey, those three words seemed to throw him for a loop. The obvious answer was yes. Of course, he did, he wasn’t some sociopathic monster that didn’t love his family and didn't miss them when he was away. Was it sociopathic or psychopathic? Michelangelo, back on track!

“Yeah, of course I do.” Mikey really wasn’t prepared for how his voice sounded, he didn’t sound convincing and there was a sharp stab in his gut. He felt like he was lying. He felt like a liar and that really wasn’t helping his already shaky mental health. If he didn’t miss them, that meant he didn’t love them. If he didn’t love them, even if they were his brothers; even if they were his family, that meant something bad. That meant he was something bad. That meant the voice was right. 

That meant that he was horrible. 

Chapter Text

Mikey really felt fucked in the head. And of course, everyone around him could see that. They could see that he was horrible, they could see his jealousy, his hatred. He didn’t mean to sound like he didn’t miss his brothers, he didn’t mean to reveal just how horrible he was to the others. He was sure they were disgusted with him. He felt like crying again, but Mikey physically didn’t have any more tears. The dehydration headache returned at just the thought of crying. Pathetic, really. You are the monster here and yet you are snivelling on the floor like a child. Monsters don’t deserve comfort. You don’t deserve to be comforted. 

That hurt. Like a lot. But what doesn’t hurt nowadays? 

“We don’t really know you enough to ask more. It wouldn’t be productive to back you into a corner to demand answers.” Angelo spoke with a tone of voice Mikey hasn’t heard from him much. He swore he could hear the fabric of a sweater being pulled on, a pair of glasses opening, and a pencil scribbling on a notepad. He looks up at the alternate of himself, taking in his change of outfit. He was confused. They weren’t angry? 

“Consider it big brother sense, but I know something’s up with ya, little man.” The big Raph was speaking softly. He was so different from Mikey’s Raph, and he really didn’t know how to feel about it. He felt like he could trust him but couldn’t shake the feeling that this was some sort of trap. 

“I-I… It’s bad. I don’t know if I c-can ta-talk about it.” Mikey wrapped his arms around himself in a self-hug. He didn’t want to say anything. If they didn’t hate him yet, he wanted to delay their feelings as long as he could. “And I d-don’t know why I di-didn’t say anything earlier. I d-do really enjoy physical t-touch…” 

The group around him saw this as progress and all, except for Donnie, smiled in joy. Leon whooped and hollered in celebration. Angelo smiled encouragingly. Raph was still concerned but was trying to follow Angelo’s lead and be encouraging as well. Meanwhile, Donnie just studied him further. He disliked that he didn’t have the answers to this equation. Mikey was a bit confused by this reaction of the turtles around him. 

“Donald! If you, me and Angelo can get started on inter-dimensional travel to send Mike back home, we can also work on Mikey’s feelings and get to know him!” Donnie seemed to be taken back from Leon’s excited shout. He thought about the plan and seemed to consider it. Raph from behind him also turned the plan around in his head, coming up with possible strategies to get Mikey to open up. Mikey nodded. This sounded like a plan he could follow. Even if he complained, he always followed any of Leo’s plans as best he could. He respected him a lot. 

The next few weeks of Mikey spending his time in this other dimension were some of the most confusing times in his life. He had people that talked to him and his stutter was almost completely gone. He got comfortable with them and buried his jealousy deep, deep inside him. He hated himself for hating himself. Angelo didn’t deserve that, he didn’t deserve this hatred and jealousy from Mikey. Mikey didn’t like to be hateful, it hurt his very soul to think he hated someone. Especially someone who didn’t deserve the hatred whatsoever. Angelo just wanted to help him, Mikey knew that. Angelo was sweet and caring to him while Mike felt so bitter towards him. He covered it, he covered this feeling more than he masked anything else about him. Well, that and anything about his brothers. The alternate versions of his brothers would ask questions about them sometimes and Mikey would answer them as avoiding as possible. 

“So, I need to know. What is your Leo’s favourite prank to pull? Water balloons are effective and simple, but my absolute favourite has to be the time we used Mrs. Cuddles to freak Raph out. It was amazing, albeit a bit cruel.” Leon looked at Mikey from across the common room. They were lounging, Mikey sitting upside down on a bean bag while Leon read a comic. The question came pretty much out of nowhere and caught Mike a bit off guard. 

“Well. Leo doesn’t really do pranks. He’s really serious, like all the time. It makes sense. In my universe, Leo is the oldest of us and is the leader. So, he can get really mother-hen-like.” Mikey answers carefully, not wanting to reveal too much. Leon mutters something about Leo being ‘The Big Suck™’ and Mikey chuckles. He almost missed Leo. He knew that he had good intentions but was too blinded by his own grief to see how damaged Mikey was. 

“What kind of upgrades does your Donnie’s bo have? I’m hoping that other me would have some cool ideas for upgrading my own gear.” Don asks, keeping his eyes glued to the screen in front of him. Mikey had wandered into his lab to watch him work because he enjoyed it. He was shy about it, half expecting Don to shoo him out of yell at him about being in the way or something. But Donnie never said anything like that, only accepting that he now had an audience and deciding to say all his thoughts out loud. 

“His bo isn’t really upgraded. It’s wooden. He tried to make an upgraded version, but it didn’t really go well. He does more s-sciencey things than technology things. Like chemicals and stuff. He’s really good at building things but he’s a scientist and even a biologist first sometimes.” Mikey answers, reminiscing about his immediately older brother back in his universe. It was bittersweet. Donnie was probably the one brother that Mikey almost missed the most. He was the most caring and emotionally available of his brothers.They were just too different; Donnie was smart, and Mikey was stupid. Mike was just annoying to him. 

“Wood isn’t a very durable material. Note for him: next time make his weapons out of high-grade titanium.” Mikey chuckles. 

“So, little man. How does your Raph usually hold you? Like what’s your favourite?” The Big Raph was sitting at the kitchen table while Angelo was cooking dinner. Mikey was being a cooking assistant to the best of his ability. He was caught off guard by the questions and was almost brought to tears immediately. He almost dropped the bowl he was mixing. Leo entered the kitchen as well, missing the heavy question that preceded him, but of course he noticed Mikey struggling to answer. Because Leo notices everything. 

“I-I… I don’t want to answer that.” Raph didn’t do hugs like how Leo didn’t do pranks. And that reminder stung like salt in a wound. The Big Raph immediately recoiled, trying to stammer out an apology. Donnie entered the kitchen as well, looking at the tense atmosphere and instantly wanting to leave. It made him very uncomfortable. 

Chapter Text

Leonardo was in the dojo; he spent most of his days there after the death of their father and Sensei. He sat cross-legged in Splinter’s bedroom, breathing in the scent of his late father. Lavender, hibiscus, tea and smoke all swirled around him and made him feel like a turtle tot all over again. He had to swallow a lump in his throat as he was reminded of the father that was no longer in his life. Leo found himself emulating him sometimes: meditating even more, drinking Splinter’s favourite tea, going through every conversation he could remember in order to talk more like him, he trained and trained until he practically collapsed. Being the eldest meant that he was now the head of the family, he was who they were expecting to lead them in more ways than just in battle, he had to be strong for them. Splinter instilled in him from a young age that he had a heavy burden and responsibility. He was probably too young, but he took his job as the oldest very seriously. But now Leo felt so small. He felt weak and broken. The anxiety of leading his brothers was overwhelming, whenever he was feeling overwhelmed, Splinter would always have some sort of philosophical speech to make Leo look deeper within himself and find the courage to get past his anxiety. But he just wasn’t here. Leo looks around as the silence becomes unbearable, suffocating. 

It was always quiet. Leo used to prefer it so that he could focus on meditation, but now he didn’t feel the peace that silence usually brought. Leonardo felt his throat tighten and his eyes start to swell with tears. He tries to stifle the sob that heaves in his chest, but the silence made every emotion swirling in his chest and gut so much louder. He couldn’t focus, he couldn’t get a grip on his own emotions, he couldn’t be what his family needed. Leo shuddered and the tears slipped out. His position went from sitting cross-legged to curling in on himself. There wasn’t a plan he could make for this, there wasn’t a pattern to study, or a weakness to exploit. This was just him in his dead father’s room, crying in the foetal position, because the universe had to remind Leo that he wasn’t and would never be- 

Leo felt like he hoisted up by his head after being trapped under a dark abyss of molasses. His neck almost cracking at the force of his focus honing in on the picture on Splinter’s nightstand. All the silence feels electric, buzzing in his eardrums. He can’t even hear himself breathe; he didn’t know if he was. He crawls towards the framed picture, reaching out to hold it in his hands. The hands that were letting his family fall through the cracks and crevices between his six fingers. The tears made his vision blurry, but Leo blinked them away to be able to see this precious family. It was everyone: Leo, Raph, Donnie, Mikey, April, Casey and Splinter. They were somehow able to get Raph to smile for the picture, capturing a rare moment of absolutely everyone being happy. Leonardo missed this happiness. He couldn’t believe he was thinking this, but he missed the noise, he missed the bustling of his family, he missed their lair having life. When Master Splinter died, Leo figured that he took the life of the lair with him. But he remembers the day this picture was taken. 

“Guys! Dudes! We should totally get a family picture! We just did a totally awesome job in kicking those bad guys’ butts; we should celebrate.” Mikey was smiling brightly, pulling on Donnie’s arm in excitement. They were all pretty roughed up, but despite his injuries, Mikey was bouncing and smiling like the sun like he always did. Raph rolled his eyes. 

“Over my fucking dead body, shell-for-brains. Nuh-oh I don’t do pictures.” Raph crossed his arms. Leo responded immediately. 

“Language, Raphael.” Leo reprimanded. It wasn’t condescending, nor harsh. It didn’t even sound like he cared that Raph was swearing, more that it was more of a reflex, an automatic response to hearing Raph cuss. Raph growls slightly anyways, even if Leo’s warning was so hollow. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Leo. Let me know when you get Splinter’s cane out of your ass.” Raph counters and Leo sighs a bit in exasperation. They just got out of a pretty stressful fight; Raph just couldn’t give him a break? They were getting close to the lair, the turnstiles leading into the common room coming into view as they made their way down the sewer tunnel. A voice comes to Leo’s rescue, and he thanks the heavens above. 

“Hey Raph. Booyakasha!” Mikey smiled mischievously and threw a water balloon that he pulled from absolutely nowhere at Raph’s face. The balloon breaks, covering Raph in lukewarm water. Raph immediately turns his rage from Leo to Mikey. 

“Mikey!” Raph looks ready to pounce on his younger brother, his anger flaring. Leo could practically see the steam coming out the sides of Raph’s head and had to physically stop himself from chuckling at the sight. Donnie then steps in behind Raph and redirects him towards his lab. 

“And you’re chosen to get patched up first. And I swear, Raph if you keep yelling, I’ll use the rubbing alcohol that really burns.” Donnie threatens. Raph huffs, sending another glare towards Mikey before storming with Donnie into Don’s lab. Leo just stands in the common room, looking towards his purple-clad brother’s lab, not noticing Mikey getting closer to him. 

“Hey, Leo?” Mikey speaks softly as to not startle his oldest brother. Leo turns to him, his eyebrows creasing in worry. 

“Something wrong, Mikey?” The youngest shakes his head. 

“Can you help me set up the kitchen for the picture?” Mikey asked, still smiling up at his big brother. Leo felt himself start talking before he could even think.  

“No thank you, Mike. I’m gonna go into the dojo and meditate.” Mikey keeps smiling, even if his eyes were a bit disappointed. He nods in understanding nonetheless. Leo felt so worn out, tired, drained. 

“Do you want me to make you your favourite tea?” Mikey offers. He was going to be in the kitchen setting up anyway, he could make Leo his tea to help him relax. Leo was a bit speechless as he looked at his baby brother. No words could escape him. Today just wasn’t the best day for Leo mentally. Mikey must have noticed that he wasn’t doing so hot. Because Mikey notices everything. He looks up at Leo as the older stares at him, smiling softly and waiting patiently for him to talk. He waited until he was ready. Leo looked at him in soft awe. “Leo?” Mike continues softly. 

“Actually, Mikey. I’d love to help you set up for our family picture. It’s a great idea.” Leo is able to smile back towards his brother. Mikey practically beams and grabs his hand gently. He brings Leo to the kitchen, muttering plans about how to decorate for the picture. They find Splinter in the kitchen, and he greets them. 

“Hello Michelangelo. Welcome back Leonardo, hello to you as well. I have heard of Michelangelo’s plan for a family picture.” Splinter strokes his thin beard as he speaks to his sons. He is pleasantly surprised to see his youngest and oldest spending time together. 

“Will you be in it, Sensei?” Mikey asks hopefully, Splinter nods and Mikey somehow gets happier. Mike busies himself with making tea and cleaning the kitchen in preparation. Splinter calmly sips on his own tea and gestures for Leo to sit down across from him. Leo complies and sits down. He usually starts speaking with Splinter, talking about how their mission went, his analysis and what they could improve. But now, Leo could only watch Mikey, still in awe. The three of them sat in silence, well, Mikey was humming a song as he prepared everything with ease. Leo watched him practically dance around the kitchen and almost didn’t notice when Mikey dropped off his mug of tea in front of him. 

“I got something on my shell, Leo? You’ve been just staring at me.” Mikey was a bit nervous, but he still smiled. Leo shook it off and couldn’t help when the truth just came out of his mouth without him being able to stop himself. 

“I admire how you can stay so positive and happy. You knew that I wasn’t feeling well. And even if you are also tired, you made tea for me.” Mikey sat down next to Leo. 

“Sometimes you even need a break from taking care of all of us. You need to be taken care of too. I’m sorry Raph got mad at you. But I speak Raph fluently and I can translate for you. He meant to say, ‘I’m worried about how tightly wound you are, and I would like you to take a break.’ But you know how Raph is with talking.” Mikey does a bad impression of Raph as he talks, making his voice gruffer as he talks as the hot-headed brother. Leo takes a sip of his tea and it’s made perfectly. He sighs. He had to be so serious all the time because it was his job. He is the oldest, the leader. Mast Splinter gave him a duty to fulfil, and he just hated when he failed and cracked under the pressure. But the words Mikey said really sank in. He was still thrown for a loop at Mikey’s maturity. “But here, let me tell you something, big bro. I think you’re amazing and the best. You really are great Leo.” He smiled at his baby brother and the soft smile stayed throughout the night. Raph eventually apologised and they had a nice sparring session to make up for it all. He never really thanked Mikey for that moment. 

Leo’s soft smile was kept and preserved in the framed picture in his hands. The memory made him smile now. Leo could hear himself breathe now, the buzzing and suffocating silence was gone now. Leo didn’t even notice that he was humming the song Mikey was humming as he made his tea. Leo didn’t notice Donnie standing in the doorway, looking at him with tear streaks down both of their faces. 

Chapter Text

Donnie walks in on the sight of Leo hunched on the ground, cradling a picture frame and crying. Except he was smiling. Donnie felt his mask was wet in the front; he made a mistake. Don made a horrible mistake, and he needed Leo’s help and comfort in this moment. 

“Leo. Mikey’s gone. He bumped into a portion of kraang technology. It fell on the floor, and he tried to pick it up, but the jostling must have reactivated the hydrogen fusion cell that powered it. It could contain and sustain fusion reactions capable of generating power in the gigawatts! This enigmatic event traces its origins to the intricate interplay between the energy released through hydrogen fusion and the manipulation of the spatial-temporal continuum. On a theoretical plane, the substantial energy yield of the fusion cell precipitates the genesis of a microcosmic wormhole-” Donnie starts nervously spouting out a bunch of science jargon that Leo can barely comprehend. But Leo does catch on to the important details. 

“Wait, wait, Donnie. Please slow down. You said Mikey’s gone? Where is he?” Leo immediately started worrying but trying to remain calm. He got up to try and physically calm Donnie’s panicking as well, leaving the framed picture on the ground where he was sitting. Donnie tried to calm himself as he tries to explain again, more tears falling down his face. 

“He got teleported to a different dimension. That was a piece of one of the kraang’s interdimensional portal frames. Mikey accidentally activated it. Now he’s in a different dimension. He’s alone, Leo.” Donnie wrapped his arms around himself as he spoke. Their baby brother was separated from them, probably scared and abandoned in a strange and new dimension. Leo wished that this was the first time this has happened. Well, he wished this didn’t happen period, but this reminds him of that time from Dimension X. Mikey never really said much about what happened to him that day, but Leo could tell that it changed him. 

Mikey just wasn’t as happy after getting pulled into that horrible pink dimension as he was before. The youngest always had a knack for bouncing back, but Leo could see it so clearly that this in particular had left a mark on Mikey’s psyche. Leonardo had meant to ask him about it after he thought he had given Mikey enough time to process it, but then they got really busy, and it just got pushed away and eventually forgotten. Donnie was feeling similarly. He could imagine how this situation could possibly reopen old wounds and trauma for Mikey. The genius had so much to say to his little brother, so much to apologise for. Leo saw the look in his eyes and understood immediately. 

“Let’s get Raph filled in and try to figure out a way to get him back.” Leo easily slipped into his role of level-headed leader, speaking in his normal ‘heroic’ voice, but now it was softer. Donnie nodded at him, thankful to have direction in his panicked state. “Also, Donnie, we need to get you calm. I can’t have you stressed like this.” Leo walked over and put a hand on Don’s shoulder in an act he hoped was comforting. 

“Leo. Mikey is in a different dimension. I can’t be calm.” Donnie tried to fight. But he leaned slightly into Leo’s touch. 

“I don’t like it either. But we need you at your A game to get Mikey back as soon as possible. This is your expertise, you got this, Don.” Leo would usually try to express the gravity of the situation, but he did some reflecting about what Mikey had told him that day. Leo put so much pressure on himself because Splinter gave him that role. But that unknowingly made Leo put stress on his younger brothers. If they were to get hurt, then it was his fault, but if he could teach them to be serious, then they were more prepared and less likely to get hurt. But now he saw that by doing that he was unknowingly putting a lot of pressure on Raph, Donnie and Mikey. Leo tried to act more like Mikey would. “You’re great Donnie.” Leo tried the encouraging route, trying to give Donnie support. Donnie looked at him like he lost his mind but also no longer looked to be crying. 

“Wha? Leo, what are you…? Thank you.” It helped and Donnie didn’t know why. He hypothesised that it was because he didn’t get praise often. He was confused but the warmth in his chest and the look in his eldest brother’s eyes told him to just accept it. Donnie took a few deep breaths, following Leo’s calming breathing. They just stood there and breathed together; it was strangely soothing. After quite some time, Donnie brought his head back up and seemed calm. “Let’s get Raph. Tell him what happened and let’s get our little brother.” Donnie spoke with soft conviction and Leo smiled. He gave a few more pats on his shoulder before patting him on the head as well. Leo didn’t know what had him so affectionate, but Donnie hasn’t complained yet. 

The two of them made their way out to the common room, the silence enveloped them, but Leo found that with Donnie by his side, it wasn’t nearly as suffocating. There was no buzzing or electricity in Leo’s eardrums anymore; he could hear his own breathing and Donnie’s breathing as well. It brings a sense of calm and focus over Leo that he hasn’t felt since the death of their father. They try to find their red clad brother; he wasn’t by the training dummy or in the kitchen. They approach his bedroom and Leo knocks on the door softly but loud enough to be heard. Raph doesn’t answer but Leo can hear shifting from inside the room. Him and Donnie wait, knowing how much Raph valued his privacy. After some time, Donnie knocks this time, his knock is softer, but still with some urgency. 

“I hear ya Mike. Damn. Look, I’m sorry for yellin’ at ya earlier, but that doesn’t give ya the right to bother me.” Raph seemed genuine but the apology was half-assed and tinged with some anger. Raph was always angry nowadays. Leo sighed. 

“Raph, come out. Mikey is gone. We need to talk.” Leo made sure to talk with a serious undertone, but his voice doesn’t have the edge it usually has. It’s softer and gentler as he tries to coax his younger brother from his room. Raph’s door swings open immediately, and looks at the two of them with wide, green eyes. 

“He’s what ?” Raph pushed the both of them away from the entrance to his room as he has a serious look on his face. “Where is he? When did he go, why didn’t you say anything earlier?!” Raph looked ready for a fight, his shoulders tense. 

“He was accidentally transported to another dimension by a rogue piece of kraang technology from my lab. We came to tell you so we can form a plan to get him back.” Donnie speaks calmly. Raph whips around, his eyes alight with rage. 

“How the hell did that happen, Don?!” 

“No, we aren’t doing this today, Raph. Nobody is to blame; we just need to work together to get him back.” Leo was determined. They were going to get their brother back. He was coming home.

Chapter Text

They all looked at Mikey. Meanwhile, Mikey stared a hole in the kitchen floor. He had to put the bowl down before he dropped it from his shaking hands. He turned to the counter, his shell facing all of the alternate versions of himself and his brothers. He put the metal bowl down and felt his body start to shake. He hasn’t cried in about a week, he took that as a saving grace, a small mercy to him. But now, he could feel the dough rising up his throat, he could feel himself start to choke on it. He didn’t want to have a crisis right here right now, but all his exits were blocked, and he would still need to answer for his behaviour. Mikey just couldn’t bring himself to think in the long term, only being reminded of the fact that Raph didn’t hold him anymore. None of them did anymore. This was a sore spot for Mikey for years. Once they hit puberty it was like all physical affection disappeared. Leo didn’t rock him to sleep like he used to, Donnie didn’t hug him better after he got hurt, and Raph didn’t hold him after he had a nightmare or panic attack. That was what they always promised whenever he was vulnerable: Leo would calm him, Donnie would care for him, and Raph would protect him. They always promised to never let hurt come to him, murmuring an endless string of reassurances as he countered with any anxiety or fear that floated to the surface. 

Things used to be so good. Then Splinter upped their training, putting more pressure on the four of them for improvement. The stress should have brought them closer together. At least in Mikey’s eyes, they should have been brought together from supporting each other, but instead they separated. Each of them developing their own coping mechanisms in order to deal. Leo would meditate, Donnie delved further in his inventions, Raph focused on working out and getting stronger. They all preferred to be left alone, unbothered, but Mikey needed to be near others. He drew off their energy, thrived off of it, it was just in his nature. Being cut off from his family, his only form of social interaction at the time, felt like he was being strangled. He felt like the life was slowly being drained from him, a decaying leaf turning from a vibrant green to a sad brown. He shrivelled up and fell from the tree, drifting from it, floating on the wind until he landed on the concrete sidewalk. He joined the millions of other dead leaves fluttering through the streets of New York City, tossed around by speeding cars, stepped on by passersby, and dragged down the cement roads. The chill of autumn nipped at him, a cold that he couldn’t ever shake off. It settles in his bones. It wasn’t a hypothermic cold, only a lack of warmth. 

Only now, he felt a flicker of that warmth behind him. It felt like a candle, wafting a soft scent and a gleam of light. He shook and didn’t dare look up. It wasn’t until he felt warm hands pulling at his apron and pulling him from the counter that he actually took a breath. It was a sharp inhale, almost a gasp, but he didn’t fight. He was gently pulled into a much larger and warmer body. He couldn’t help as he clung to them, he felt himself sob. He curled in on himself, the large arms cradling him like a turtle tot. He kept his eyes screwed shut, cursing himself that he was crying again. He felt a hand on his shell, and it didn’t hurt enough for him to wince. 

“Your injuries are healing up nicely, hermano. You’re getting better.” Leon commented, rubbing a gentle hand over Mikey’s recovering shell. Mikey could feel some pressure being let out, like letting the air out of a balloon before it popped. He finally opens his eyes and the first thing he sees is The Big Raph’s snaggletooth. He feels himself being cradled and opens his mouth to apologise. 

“Nuh uh uh.” Mikey stops as Angelo shakes his head. Miguel is now in his sweater and glasses character that Mikey has come to know as ‘Doctor Feelings’. “I don’t want to hear any apologies for needing comfort and support.” Mikey’s alternate fixes his glasses as he speaks. He uses a gentle voice, knowing he’s dealing with a fragile mindset. “Now how about you try saying what it is you’re thinking?” Angelo tried to coax some answers out of his counterpart, hoping that they could finally get some insight into Mikey. 

Mike didn’t understand why he felt like talking. The last few weeks, these brothers have taken him in as one of their own. It didn’t matter if he was technically a stranger. A Mikey was a Mikey and Mikey was their baby brother. Mikey felt Raph’s large, calloused hands around him and felt the comfort they provided. Donnie stayed in the kitchen to show his support which was really different for him, he usually liked to avoid tense emotionally charged situations like these. But he was staying here for Mikey. Leon was uncharacteristically quiet, not spouting his usual puns and quirky quips. He was staying quiet for Mikey. Raph held him so tenderly. Mikey looked up at him, and Raph looked down, smiling comfortingly. He was doing this for Mikey. And Angelo was trying to help him through his issues. He was putting forth so much effort for Mikey. 

The least Mikey could do was try to answer their questions for them. He sniffles and takes a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to get so upset. I-I wasn’t ready to be asked about how I like to be held. I don't really get held anymore, especially by Raph.” Mikey spoke quietly. 

“Well, I’ll hold you little guy.” Raph said softly, he even nuzzled Mikey affectionately and the smaller nearly started bawling again. 

“Ah. I think I understand why you acted the way you did when we all hugged you on the first day. You weren’t used to physical affection. But you’ve spent like a month and a half here, hermano, you should know by now that if you need comfort, support and affection, you are given it. We don’t take that very lightly here.” Leo speaks with a soft encouragement, obviously tuning it down in order to fit in the more fragile situation. Angelo took notes while he observed his counterpart in Raph’s arms. 

“Now, Mikey. When was the last time any of your brothers told you they loved you?” Miguel got right into the meat of it, asking a question he knew would be a touchy subject. Mikey stuttered and stammered a little as he struggled to answer the question. This was all the brothers needed to get a glimpse into the situation. It was sad to hear about a family like theirs except there wasn’t such a strong support system and emotional vulnerability. One in which the youngest suffers the brunt of it. “What about dad? Is your Splinter the same as ours?” 

Mikey fully broke down. 

Chapter Text

When Mikey breaks, he shatters like glass. He felt the cracks forming, every tear was another chip at his glass psyche. First, it’s small pieces of crystal falling from him like painful dust. He fractures, splits and fragments into tiny little pieces that dig into the hands of anyone that tries to hold him. Anyone who touches him or helps him feels the million cuts from cleaning up his shattered remains. He feels so broken. Next is the final fissure, cleaving the largest part of Mikey’s remaining sense of self in two. These pieces are larger, heavier, deadlier. They didn’t cut or dig, they sliced and stabbed angrily. But even these pieces didn’t last long because after just a few seconds they too hit the ground and smashed into millions of tiny slivers and shards. The sound of the crashing beaker from Mikey’s arrival into this dimension fills his mind; fragile and so easily seen through, his thoughts and emotions laid bare. Every part of him scattered on the ground to be observed and retrieved with caution. All of his ugliness is portrayed a million times over as the glass reflects off its sheen surface. There is nothing left, Mikey’s defences are left splintered on the floor. 

“What about my dad? He-he’s gone! He died and now nothing’s right. Before, Raph would h-hit me, tackle me and yell, but it was only when I did something wrong or if he was having a bad day. But it would g-get his aggression out and he would always apologise if he went too far. But-But now being in the same room as him is impossible. My mere existence pisses him off and he’s so angry. It hurts; I stopped trying to make him feel better after h-he stopped apologising for hurting me. Like my feelings didn’t even matter. And-And Donnie…before dad died, we could at least hold a conversation. Now, he locks me out, y-yells at me for even going into his lab. He was always so condescending. Neither Raph nor Leo understood him when he started talking about science, but somehow, I’m the dumb one for-for not understanding. I would ask questions because I knew he loved answering them, but then he would dumb it down to a third grader’s l-level of understanding. He was my best friend next to Leatherhead. But I always felt so stupid next to him. And Leo never took me seriously. I told him ab-about the kraang and none of them believed me, just wrote it off as the usual Mikey bullshit, but I knew what I was talking about! And he a-always makes me bait. It’s always ‘Mikey, pay attention.’ ‘Mikey, fix your form.’ ‘Mikey, you need to be faster.’ ‘Mikey, work on your accuracy.’ ‘Mikey, listen.’ I always listened . He’s under so much stress, so I get it. He felt like he needed to be p-perfect and felt like we should as well. But he always looked at me like I was some sort of disappointment. Like the universe had to remind me that I’m not and I will never be good enough for him. For any of them!” 

Mikey had to force himself to breathe. His mind reeled as he could practically hear the glass shards hitting the ground. He didn’t hear anyone else reacting. He didn’t mean to say anything. He didn’t mean to cry or shout. He didn’t mean to sound so angry . He hated it. All the preconceived notions of what Mikey was were wrong. Mikey wasn’t happy and positive. No. Mikey was harsh and cold and bitter and angry. He was jealous and spiteful, toiling in a toxic spew of negative emotions. The glass wasn’t his defence anymore, it was his weapon. Transparent daggers that tore into flesh and left raw, gaping wounds. Mikey was on a rampage; his emotions were high. He figured that he had already broken this fragile glass, there wasn’t any reason to try and preserve what was left of it. Once glass was chipped or cracked, it lost its value, its purpose. Broken glass is useless. He lets himself break further. 

“My brothers a-are so amazing. Raph is so strong and brave. Donnie i-is so smart and caring. Leo is so calm and fierce. Yet I don’t deserve them to be amazing for me. And it’s so-so fucked because you’re supposed to love your family and I want to, I-I want to so badly. But you ask if I miss them, and I say yes, an-and I feel like a liar . If I don’t miss them, that must mean I don’t love them, right? And someone who doesn’t love their own family has something deeply wr-wrong with them. Something horrible. The way I know I’m fucked up is because of you .” Mikey seems to jump into action. He moves, noticing that in his entire tirade, Raph had put him down to let him pace back and forth in the kitchen. Mikey points a shaky finger at Miguel who pauses from his notetaking. He looks up with a surprised and confused face. “I have such a-a-a burning anger towards you! You have done nothing but try to help me this entire time and yet just looking at you fills me with a seething anger and I-I hate it. You know how much I hate being angry and I hate hating to my very core. But I watch you be able to-to actually have fun with your Leo or spend time with your Donnie or cuddle your Raph and it just makes me so so so jealous. But I’m not supposed to be like this. I want to be happy for you, a good Mikey wouldn’t feel this way. I should be happy that you’re happy, but I’m so selfish that I hate you for having what I never did.” 

Mikey felt lightheaded. He just unloaded months, even years, worth of pent-up thoughts. Every horrible thing he has ever thought gets compounded into five minutes of worth of unending and unbridled rage. In the end he doesn’t feel angry or petty anymore. He feels empty, hollow and broken all over the floor. He practically revealed everything, aggressively laid it all out in front of these brothers. He waited patiently for the disgust, the sneers or even enraged shouting. He deserved that, the things he just said were only the thoughts of a horrible person, unforgivable. 

It was a sight to see, the brothers only able to watch from their respective places at the kitchen table. Mikey eventually lowered his pointing finger as he stood there defeated. The kitchen was dead quiet. Raph, Donnie and Leo all practically held their breath as they looked at Mikey. This was another version of their baby brother and here he was. Watching him like this was surely something. Angelo, on the other hand, let out a big exhale. It puffed out his cheeks as he blew out. He waited for Mikey to continue. He knew what came next and was ready. Mikey eventually cracked under the suffocating silence and opened his mouth with regretful eyes. This time, Angelo held up his finger, this one wasn’t accusatory, this one was accompanied with a ‘shh’. 

“Don’t apologise, Mikey. Thank you for saying all of that.” Miguel spoke calmly, even smiling. Mikey looked up to him, staring at him wide-eyed like he lost his mind. 

“Y-You’re supposed to be angry at me. You’re supposed to yell or something.” Mikey just couldn’t understand why nothing was happening. He had said horrible things that he felt terrible about but nobody else in the room was reacting how they should. They were supposed to feel as horrible towards him as he felt towards himself. Miguel only put down the notepad and stood up. He went up to Mikey and held his twin’s face in his hands. Mikey was just barely shorter than Angelo. They looked into each other’s eyes and then the taller one brought him in for a hug. 

“You should never be yelled at for expressing your feelings. It was a bit explosive, but I’ll take this over you not talking about it at all. You’re okay. Like Nardo said, you’re getting better.” Mikey wrapped his arms around Angelo. He felt warmth seeping into his bones. He openly said that he hated him and yet here was his counterpart, hugging him and telling him that it was okay. And Mikey was inclined to believe him. 

Chapter Text

Mikey opened his baby blue eyes. He still felt Angelo in his arms and could feel him breathe. He saw the eyes of Raph, Donnie and Leon watching the two of them. Miguel was gently murmuring to him, talking him through a breathing exercise. In, out, In and out. 

“Good, good. Keep breathing. You’re doing so good.” Angelo has a comforting hand on his shell, rubbing circles on the hairline cracks, tenderly, lovingly. He watches Leon and Raph slowly rise from their seats, reaching their hands forwards slowly. Mikey is so focused on Miguel's instructions that he doesn’t notice Leon wrapping his arms around his head, pulling both of the Mikey’s into his arms. Then Raph, Mikey stopped calling him The Big Raph, he didn’t know when or why. Raph brought all three of them close to his chest, this was comfort, but also Mikey could feel the sense of protection he hasn’t felt from his brothers in a very long time. He felt the warm hand on his head, stroking in slow, methodical pats. He opened his eyes to see Don standing in front of him, he wasn’t using his robotic hand. He was using the same hand as he did on that first day. He stood unwavering, a silent support, a guarding sentinel. Donnie was incredibly uncomfortable, unsure if he was even doing the right thing, and was making sure to avoid any spots that had a lot of Mikey’s tears or snot. Mikey could respect that, even snorted slightly at Don’s actions and aversion to comforting someone. He chuckles, Leon huffing and starting to giggle. Angelo soon followed. The three of them were a giggly mess that slowly sunk to the kitchen floor. 

The soft laughter subsided, as the silence fell on the five of them, Mikey felt the hollowness return. The candle snuffed out. He is reminded again by the four of them around him. 

“I don’t like crying.” Mikey said, hoping to slice through the thick quiet that had settled on everyone. He feels the need to do something with his hands, rubbing at his wrists and fingers. Rubbing his hands together gives him the tingly feeling of friction against his slightly rough skin. Donnie’s machine claw comes forward, offering him a Rubik's cube. 

“I don’t have any of my other fidgets, they’re still in my lab and room.” Donnie almost seems sheepish, but Mikey takes it gratefully. He starts fiddling with the plastic puzzle cube, moving the coloured squares around. 

“Why don’t you like crying, Mikey?” Angelo asks softly, watching his twin flip the squares of the Rubik's cube around. Mike can only shrug, the feeling of crying didn’t feel relieving like it probably should. He no longer felt the swirling of rage or jealousy, but he guessed it was because he had the brothers around him and comforting him. He was sure that he would need to give a better answer than that, so he focused on the fidget cube in his hands to allow his subconscious to talk for him. 

“It doesn’t make me feel better. I know that it’s normal. It’s normal to cry when you need to, but for some reason I feel like I am not allowed to cry.” Mikey kept going with the cube. 

“Allowed?” Raph questions and Mikey squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head. 

“No. No. I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“We don’t need to talk about it all right now. But here. I’ll say something that you deserve to hear. That you need to hear.” Angelo had his hands on Mikey’s face again, bringing them to lock eyes. Bright blue crystal met warm brown. “I love you, Mikey.” Mikey felt all the emotions flood back into him, Angelo somehow staring through his transparent body. They kneeled in the reflections of Michelangelo, the millions upon millions slivers of the broken boy. Mikey expected blood, he expected to feel the sting of thousands of tiny cuts that Leo would have to pull out of his skin one by one, and Raph would sweep the unwanted and bloody pieces into the garbage, yet he never felt the pain. He was ready for more pain, yet all he could feel were tender hands and warm breaths. They soothed and stroked and rubbed, the same hands that would painstakingly pick up every sharp bit and fracture and reconstruct him. The same hands that shared the same three fingers as he did. Piece by piece by piece, the shards fit together like an unfair and excruciating puzzle. There were gaps, but they were always filled like cracked ceramics that are repaired with gold. Mikey could see that given enough time, his soul could shine as Angelo’s does, like he used to, a brilliant glow as the glass and gold reflects the light all around him. 

“Anywizzle, Mikey. I love you too, hermano.” Leon’s voice and words grace Mikey, causing him to look up from the now finished rubix cube. He felt like he couldn’t believe it, but he looked into Leon’s deep blue eyes, so much like Leo’s yet starkly different, and he can’t bring himself to doubt him. Raph smiles slightly, nudging Leon and muttering something about him being lame- onardo. Leo scoffs with the dramatic flair he always has, and Mikey cracks a small smile. Raph clears his throat. 

“I should clarify. This isn’t me saying that Leon saying he loves ya is lame, I’m saying that the way he said could use some work.” Raph sends a look directed at Leon and said turtle just rolled his eyes. “But little guy. You’ve brought something into our lives I don’t think any of us realised we were missing. And we’re gonna getcha better. I think it’s safe to say that you are one of us now. You are my little brother just like these three are. I love ya, Mike and you too big man. You really stepped up to the plate to help out Mikey.” Raph gave praise to both of the orange-clad turtles, Angelo beamed up at Raph while Mikey just sat there, dumbfounded. He was… one of them? He must not have heard right. But Mikey listens so he knows that what Raph said he meant. Raph smiles, his snaggletooth catching the light and his good eye facing Mikey. Raph said that Mikey was his little brother, welcoming him into his arms and claiming him as a part of their family. He looks around at the others to silently ask if they all agreed. 

“Uh. Yeah. Whatever they said. Feelings and things. You are invaluable and don’t dislike your presence.” Donnie waves towards him, now withdrawing from the situation as he no longer could deal with the sappiness and awkwardness. 

“E-Even after everything I said?” Mikey spoke, his voice sounding strained and nothing like he did just minutes earlier. It was meek and quiet, no longer made powerful by anger and toxicity. “I said horrible things and none of you are acting right about it.” Mikey tries to point out. This is what he wanted. This feeling of acceptance and love from a family, a real family, but now he found himself almost trying to convince them that taking him in was a bad idea. He looks to Angelo, the only one his words would have any effect on and finds him unmoved. He shakes his head. 

“I think we are acting the correct way, Mike. If you actually hated me, would you hide your feelings for weeks in fear of hurting my feelings? Would you feel remorse for hating me or even let me hug you? I don’t think so. You’re confused about your feelings because you’ve barred yourself from feeling them for so long. But that’s okay. It’s nothing wrong with you.” Miguel counters, holding eye contact with Mikey as he speaks. “I don’t think you hate me. And I can’t invalidate what you’re feeling because I’m sure if it were switched around… If I were you, I don’t know if…” Angelo seems to stumble over what he wants to say, trying and failing as his grip on Mikey’s face gets just a tad tighter. “I’m just happy you ended up with us. So we can help you with everything before it was too late.” Miguel finishes, leaving Mikey confused. He wasn’t catching on to what Angelo was saying and with a quick glance at Leon and Raph, he doubted he was going to get much from them either. 

“You’re so strong, little guy. You made it through. Now you can rest easy, okay? I’m so proud of you for making it here.” Raph had tears in his eyes, which Mikey had never seen, and it furthered his confusion. What were they talking about? Him getting here was an accident, a painful accident he would rather not try to remember. 

“I-I didn’t mean t-to get here though. It was an accident. I told you. Donnie’s lab-” 

“No, not the actual way you got here , hermano.” 

“I’m also confused about what we are talking about and I’m afraid to ask in fear of it being more icky feeling things.” 

Chapter Text

“I’m also confused about what we are talking about and I’m afraid to ask in fear of it being more icky feeling things.” Donnie is typing on his phone, a small look of disgust on his face and leaning against the wall in a ‘cool guy stance’. Raph gives him a warning look.

“Donnie. These are not ‘icky feeling things,’ this is the emotional healing that Mikey needs.” Raph shakes his head slowly, softly facepalming at the middle child’s aversion to unpleasant emotions and situations. 

“Disgusted scoff.” Don rolls his eyes, raising his drawn-on eyebrows. He pushes off the wall to stand straight. Raph takes a step towards him, ready to talk him out of his middle child nonsense.

“Please don’t be angry.” Mikey can’t help himself, he sounds a bit quiet, meek and sheepish, all the things he shouldn’t sound. He sounded so small, but it had a hint of desperation. It was so selfish, he knew, but at any semblance of anger from Raph, he felt a shrill of fear underneath his shell. 

It was like he could feel the glass in the cracks of his shell. It made sense, his shell was cracked, just like the shattering of the glass statue that stood where Michelangelo Hamato used to be. The brothers looked at him and Mikey blinked, then he saw them. Leonardo was frustrated and disappointed, Donatello was annoyed and fed up and Raphael was just so angry . Mikey was brought back to his own kitchen, in his own dimension, surrounded by his brothers. They looked down at him with piercing eyes. Slicing like the glass daggers, stabbing like the shards, blinding like the dust. Whole, cracking, breaking, shattering, shattered; he watched them break as well. They shattered just like him, the pieces of Leonardo, Donatello and Raphael flying out and cutting his skin, leaving cuts and gashes along his arms, leaving behind the itching, burning memories of scars. He reached for them, desperately clutching at the shards to reassemble them, but the only thing he could feel when he touches them is ice cold pain. He looks down at his bloody hands, seeing through them to the ground beneath him. He realises that he isn’t cut, he’s scratched, the sharp glass against his smooth surface did less damage but made him less pure. 

“Stop! Please! I get the analogy! Please stop.” Mikey heard himself but didn’t feel the tingle in his throat that usually came after he shouts. He finds that he can’t move, forced to watch with glossy eyes as the him that is made of flesh and bone sobs. He’s kneeling on the ground, surrounded by the broken glass, cradling his head in his hands. He wants to move to him, console himself, but he’s stuck as a statue, posed as if he’s enjoying his existence. He has a moulded smile on his face, unable to move his glass body. He felt whole, the shards in place and the chips smoothed over, but he couldn’t even cry like this. He tried to break free from his prison, watching himself cut his hands on the glass that used to make up his brothers as he tried to scoop them up from the ground. Mikey feels some give, a small glow of yellow, almost white light as he feels his body move slightly. He attempts again and again, pushing himself to move, cry, talk, yell, kick, scream, anything. But after that small nudge, the glow fades back into the abysmal drab of the sewer’s kitchen and Mikey is left as a smiling, inanimate glass statue.

He just had to watch himself get covered in cuts, bruises and scars, gaining cracks until his eyes dry. He no longer cries at each painful hit, doesn’t even flinch or yell. Mikey looks down and the glass is covered in blood, splattered bright red covering the pale, blue crystal. The puddle grows underneath his body, encompassing the mess until not even the glass could be seen in the crimson. Mikey watches himself curl into himself, on his knees with his forehead pressed to the ground, he did not see or hear him breathe, his only sign of life was him slowly reaching to feel through the blood. He eventually finds what he was searching for and pulls the largest shard of glass from his brothers’ remains. 

Leo’s deep blue eyes pierce Mikey’s soul. He was smeared with Mikey’s deep red blood, yet they remained calm. Those eyes haunted Mikey more than the others. Even the rage of Raph or the annoyance in Donnie’s didn’t compare to that cold, disappointed stare. Mikey couldn’t stand it, because he wasn’t looking at the Mikey holding him, he was looking at him. The him in the statue. Those eyes could always see right through him, and he knew it. Leo’s deep blue eyes pierce Mikey’s soul until they are piercing Mikey’s neck. The flesh Mikey holds the piece of glass, stabbing it into his own neck, twisting it. His hands grow weak around the improvised weapon, dropping down as he collapses. Mikey watches himself bleed out, while Leo’s eyes still watch him. No reaction, not even a spark of concern or love, just cold, cold, cold. He looks into those eyes and sees the reflection of Leo in them. Wait, he sees Leo? Wouldn’t he see the pitiful view of himself to accompany the look of disappointment? No, he can see Leo’s own reflection in his eyes, revealing where Leonardo’s true feelings resided. The disappointment was internal, blaming himself for every failure. That was so Leo. 

Suddenly, Mikey feels his body again, he holds onto his head. Now feeling the wounds inflicted on his body, he is surprised he can move and looks down at his bloodied hands. He can’t speak, his throat hurts. He keeps his eyes open enough to see that he isn’t where he used to be. He turns to see the glass statue that used to be his prison had a large shard of glass embedded in the neck. The utter silence is replaced by the deafening sound of glass falling to pieces. The screeching noise as it shatters and crumbles scraped against his ear drums. Mikey grabs his head to try and shield himself from the horrible noise; the puddle underneath him shrinks into nothingness. Time rewinds, each cut and gash being undone in backwards order they were done. The blood disappears, showing the pieces of his broken family. The sounds of crashing and breaking continue, drowning out his own screaming. He looks down at them, catching the eyes of his older brothers as they look at him from the pieces littering the ground. As time keeps rewinding, they start to rebuild themselves. Shattered, shattering, breaking, cracking, whole; his brothers are back, now with small hairline cracks in their visages. Mikey keeps his hands up to the sides of his head, trying to block out the noise, he looks into Leo’s eyes and sees the caring, protective, loving older brother that he remembers from years ago. He spins around to look at the piece that is embedded in his neck, expecting to see Leo’s eyes, instead he’s looking into the beady, deep, reddish brown of his father’s eyes. Not Leo’s eyes. Not anymore . He looks into the judgmental eyes; time fully goes back. He sees them look on in disappointment. Dad. He sees those eyes and suddenly he sees those eyes. 

He blinks and he’s back with the brothers, they look at him with concern, but his eyes are glued somewhere else. On someone else. 

“There is a second Orange.” Splinter says, almost dumbfounded. 

Chapter Text

“There is a second Orange.” Splinter says, almost dumbfounded. 

“Oh shit.” Leo looked at Mikey staring at Splinter with tears in his eyes. Splinter looks incredibly uncomfortable and confused as he looks at the two Michelangelos. Mikey can’t tear his eyes from the mutant rat, staring into his eyes, pale, baby blue boring into reddish brown. Mikey whimpered, seeing this universe’s Splinter in front of him. The mutant rat looks very confused, gazing over the four turtles he knew and landing on the one he didn’t. He took a tentative step forward towards where Mikey is on the ground. Said turtle seems to snap out of his stupor, looking around at the others and taking in his surroundings.

“Someone explain to me why there is a second Orange.” The Splinter repeats, looking at Raph and even Donnie, expecting answers from one of them. Raph sputtered a little while Donnie started speaking.

“Well, you see, Papa. While you were off on your little retreat with Draxum, we have added another brother to our familiar unit.” Donnie says with his usual candour. Splinter eyes him up and down to tell if he was lying. Mikey decides to pipe up with a shaky voice. He noticed that this Splinter was very different from his own late father, but he still saw a part of him in those eyes. 

“I am from a different dimension.” Mikey feels like his throat is raw, he speaks anyway. The brothers, except for Donnie, are looking at Mikey with looks of deep concern. They had heard what he said during his rant. His Splinter, his father, his sensei was dead . Angelo was impressed as he watched his twin straighten himself out so quickly when faced with a different version of his deceased father. Mikey slowly raises himself from the floor, he raises to his full height, still looking at Splinter. 

“Okay. Perhaps we will have better meals now that there are two Oranges. My Orange is now Orange 1 and you, the new Orange, are now Orange 2.” Splinter immediately goes to naming the new Michelangelo. 

“Dad.” Raph softly warned. He was worried Mikey would feel less than their Mikey if they were named like that. But Splinter seemed to not be listening to Raph. He turns and starts walking away.

“Yes. Yes. This will do well. I shall be watching my shows. Do not bother me.” He disappears down the hallway, leaving the five of them in the kitchen. The brothers looked to Mikey to see how he was holding up.

“...” At first, Mikey didn’t have anything to say. “That was… underwhelming.” Mikey eventually says with a small chuckle. He was expecting to see a Splinter that mimicked his own: strict, disciplined, tall, intimidating. The brothers let out a collective sigh of relief. The possible conflict being avoided at least for now. “They are a little alike, but I can’t see much of my father in him.” Even if what he said was true, that small percentage of Master Splinter he did see in those beady eyes got under his skin. He could feel the eyes staring at him and he rubs absentmindedly at his neck. 

“Excited gasp. What is your Papa like?” Donnie turns to look at Mikey with an excited expression. “I bet he is a wonderful and supportive parental figure that gives out praise readily-.” Donnie seemed to just now catch on to his brother’s horrified expressions and realise what he just said and who he just said it to. He slowly deflates. “Ooooh. I don’t usually apologise. But, uh, I am sorry. That was incredibly insensitive of me.” Mikey seems to be barely holding it together.

“I-It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it D.” Mikey could practically feel Raph’s concerned stare at the back of his head. He turns to look at him, offering him a soft smile, showing off his signature dimples and freckles. “Don’t worry so much, Raphie. I’ll be okay. I’ll probably go lay down now, though.” Mikey felt exhausted from the emotional toll of today and the brothers seemed to understand. Mikey then felt a little shocked. He hadn’t realised that he had called Raph ‘Raphie’ until right now. He realises his mistake too late and waits for the yelling that usually comes after calling his older brother the ridiculous nickname, but it never came. Mikey looked up at Raph and saw that he had a small smile on his face, but his eyes were still filled with concern. Raph didn’t seem bothered by the nickname at all.

“Hmm. ‘Raphie’, that’s cute. Has a ring to it; I like it, perhaps a permanent new nickname.” Leon cuts in, putting his thumb against his chin as he mimes thinking deeply about it. Raph smiles at Leon with an amused huff. He was smiling, his snaggletooth no longer menacing at all to Mikey. 

“Raphie likes it. Thank you for the new nickname, little guy.” Raph was sure that Mikey had called him this before, but now he was doing it consciously, not under extreme duress. Mikey seemed a bit flustered. Angelo gently grabs onto Mikey’s arm.

“How about you go down for a nap? You seem a little dead on your feet and today has been really emotionally draining. I’ll finish making our abandoned dinner.” Miguel gently pointed Mikey towards his subway car, hoping he would go down for a nap easily. Mikey started walking, he couldn’t think straight right now, his mind in a whirlwind. 

‘Raphie’ was his brother. ‘Raphie’ was the name he gave to his older brother when he would go to him after having a nightmare. The nickname was created when they were turtle tots and Mikey held onto it for comfort’s sake. As they got older, Raph grew to resent it. He would call it childish, dumb and stupid. But it was the name that Mikey would always consider his big brother as, ‘Raphie’. Now, he was starting to use it for someone else, not his Raph . Not anymore. He could feel the lines blurring in his mind. Everything was moving so quickly. Was he replacing his brothers? Did he consider Raph to be his Raph now? 

Mikey laid down on the mattress on the floor in Angelo’s room. He got comfortable in his temporary bedding. He stared at the ceiling, his mind reeling from everything that has happened today. Between his outburst, the comfort, his hallucination, meeting this universe’s Splinter and the ‘Raphie’ thing, Mikey was exhausted. His mind had a lot to sort through before he could even think of drifting into sleep. 

His mind wandered as it almost always did. He was already convinced that he was horrible. He couldn’t find it within himself to miss his brothers, yet here he was, calling this Raph the name he always reserved for his own brother. It was deeply personal, but this felt weirdly right. His Raph despised the name, so he didn’t really use it anymore, but it felt good to finally let himself feel that familiar comfort. And there were no repercussions, he wasn’t yelled at or hit, a major bonus in his eyes. Mikey could feel himself letting down his defences little by little. They were gaining his trust, slowly easing him out of his shell with comforting words and gentle touches. At first, he wanted to doubt them, deny their help, but now he could see that they were genuine. They somehow enjoyed his company, which Mikey found bizarre. But then it seemed to hit him like a truck as he laid there in complete silence.

They were treating him like family. 

Chapter Text

Sleep did not come easily. He tossed and turned. Left, right, left, right. He is usually a calm, deep sleeper. But stress was mounting. 47 days and 8 hours since Mikey disappeared. He lies awake, staring at the ceiling, his mind reeling from everything that has happened. His sapphire mask hung on the post of his bed frame; the dark circles that encompassed his eyes no longer concealed by the bright piece of fabric. But Leo couldn’t see the bright, vibrance. Recently, the world looked so muted and drained of colours. He looked at the dark grey cement of the ceiling of his bedroom. His world has turned to a mess of dull, colourless listlessness. Like the rose-coloured glasses were pulled from his eyes to reveal the drab black, browns and greys that made up his entire world. Even when looking at his own skin, all he could see was a dark shade of Phthalo. He kept his arms up, looking at his arms and fingers, the same six fingers that let his family slip through them. 

He could tell by the small and echoing noises that it was currently sometimes in the afternoon. Leonardo and his brothers have become almost entirely nocturnal, the only one to possibly see the golden rays of sun was Donnie, as he worked through dozens of hours in his lab. 

Leo let his hands fall down to his face. He rubbed at his eyes, the force spreading a flurry of black splotches in his vision. He opened his eyes, desperately hoping to see a flicker of colour, a gleam of light, anything to pierce the deep hole of darkness that encompasses him. His head hurts. Nearly two months of stress, crying and forcing himself back together to be strong for the remains of this family. He tried moulding himself to be the glue in between the brothers, but he ended up being part of the driving force cleaving the divide between them. 

Raph was just so angry. Anytime he was dealing with a difficult emotion, he lashed out at the ones around him. Usually, Mikey would give him an outlet. Leo noticed that Mikey would target the second eldest for pranks in order to give him a reason to expel some of his aggression. It made sense, Raph wasn’t going to start attacking without a reason, so Mikey would always give him little reasons. Leo noticed. He balls his hands into fists as he keeps a small amount of pressure against his closed eyes. He has the itching urge to dig his fingers into his skull and tear his deep blue eyes from his face. What was the point of them when they couldn’t see the actual important things? He noticed but didn’t see. He was already so blind. He didn’t see the light he now craved in this tenebrosity when he had it. He didn’t see the damage being done, he didn’t see his negligence through his own stress and grief. 

His chest heaves with a sob. His throat is dry. He can’t cry. He can’t physically cry. His body just can’t handle it from the amount he’s been doing. It seemed he couldn’t remember a memory in recent times that wasn’t stained with tears and sorrow. His life used to be a painting: beautiful, colourful and perfectly imperfect. Now his tears smeared the fragile pigments, smearing the colours together in a dreadful blend of murkish browns and gloomy olives.They ran down the canvas, the tints pooling in a disgusting puddle underneath their once peaceful family portrait. 

He pulled his hands from his face and figured that he couldn’t stay in bed for much longer. If he allowed himself to dwell in his depression and hopelessness for much longer, he would never leave his bed and covers. His brothers needed him; he couldn’t stay under his warm covers. His bedding didn’t feel as comfortable as they once did, they felt scratchy and harsh instead of the usual softness they provided. Oh right, he needs to wash his sheets.  

He stands up, his joints cracking and popping. He doesn’t remember when he started feeling so old. He was only sixteen. Leo looks back at his messy bed and sighs. Normally, he would make it right as he got up, folding the top blanket neatly and crisply. 

“What’s the point?” Leonardo whispers to himself. He leaves his bed messy, his bedspread twisted partially in a ball. “It’ll just get messy again.” He mutters with a soft sigh. Leo pulls his dull-looking mask from his bedpost to pull it onto his head. He adjusts it lightly, to allow his eyes to align with the holes. He goes through the motions of tying his gear on. His wrappings and pads cover his dreary skin with equally washed-out tans and browns. He moves slowly, not with his usual gusto. He walks out of his room.

He notices the silence. He tries his best to not let its chill seep into his bones as he makes his way through the lair. He goes into the kitchen, the memories fluttering through his brain, yet he doesn’t let any of them settle. He puts on a kettle, pulling out his mug and his favourite tea from the cupboards. He sits at the table and stares a hole into the wooden furniture. His usual stoic and mature disposition are replaced by anxiety and restlessness as his leg bounces uncontrollably. The chair squeaks softly with each twitch; a steady rhythm that urges him to continue bouncing his leg and the longer he goes, the more the rhythm prospers. An endless cycle really. The kettle warms and then starts to whistle, the horrid sound a welcome change to the suffocating silence. 

He stands up again to prepare his tea. He hears the scraping sound as a pair of doors open. He turns around to see Raph coming into the kitchen with a scowl. He eyes Leo with the kettle.

“What the fuck are you doing up this late, Leo?” Leonardo doesn’t have the energy to reprimand the cussing and decides to do a general movement of his hand to show that he acknowledged Raph’s arrival. Raph looks on at the scene with confusion. Leonardo continues to pour his tea, the clear water turning an amber brown as it runs over the teabag. Leo lets the aroma call him and bring him to a better place.

“Do you want some tea, Raph?” Leo asks, but his voice sounds distant, like a warbled recording of himself. A gramophone playing a copy of his voice, yet the vinyl is warped and slightly skipping. 

“No. You know that I think your tea tastes like shit.” Raph shakes his head, disgust obvious on his face. 

“I didn’t say you had to have my tea. I asked if you wanted any tea.” Leo says gently. Raph scoffs and half snarls. 

“Leo, why are you making tea so late? That fucking kettle woke me up. Couldn’t think to be a bit more considerable?” Raph keeps the scowl on his face. Leo let the first few slide, but Raph was cursing in every sentence. 

“Raphael.” Leo starts the sentence as he always does. And Raph’s pupils dilated. 

“No! Don’t even fucking start with that shit. I can’t even start to comprehend why you choose to be so insufferable.” Raphael growls softly. His eyes narrow at his older brother. Leo takes a sip from his mug. 

“Raph, please. Don’t pick a fight now. I’m not in the mood to fight and bicker over absolutely nothing.” Leonardo sighs, he just can’t take it at the moment. They fight more times than hold actual conversation and it’s definitely taking a toll on their family as a whole. It’s taking a toll on both of them and even more so on Donnie. 

“This isn’t nothing! You act like you’re all high and mighty. We have issues and you just want to pretend we don’t.” Leo hears what Raph is saying with a small frown. He could agree on some fronts. He doesn’t agree with Raphael’s ways but can concede that they have been having issues for much longer before Michelangelo’s disappearance. Losing Mikey just heightened the tensions surrounding them. 

“I hear you, Raph. I’m sorry.” Leo makes sure to sound genuine, he was just so tired. He sounds weary and beaten down, finally letting the younger get an actual glimpse into how affected the eldest is. But Raph doesn’t see it as that. Not at all. 

“Really? ‘I’m sorry’ is all ya got?” Raphael scowls deeper. “Seriously, I try to see things from your point of view, but I can’t physically fit my head that far up my ass.” Leo has to put his mug down and he feels his eyes roll far back into his head. 

The doors to Donnie’s lab slam open. Donnie rushes out, eyes wide and out of breath. He looks around, and then spots both of his brothers in the kitchen. He takes a few strides towards them, his dull, plum mask hanging loosely around his neck. 

“I made a portal.”

Chapter Text

Leon really was worried. He and his brothers watch Mikey walk to Angelo’s subway car to go down for some rest. He looks between his brothers with a crease in his eyebrow ridges. He looks at Raph, then at Donnie, then at Miguel. 

“Soooo. Was I the only one who saw the Mikesters eyes glowing? Like first, they were the baby blue they always are and then they went like a glowy, whitish gold colour?” Leon asks once Mikey was out of sight and out of range of hearing. He has a confused and concerned look on his face. It’s much different from the smug, wise-cracking grin he usually has about this type of situation. Raph looks very concerned and surprised, the red and blue brothers almost looking like carbon copies in facial expression and demeanour. Donnie types all the information in on his hyper-intelligent wristband. Angelo looks to have stars in his eyes, elation brimming from him. 

“Yes, Nardo. That flash of light was definitely undeniable. It would appear that our new dear brother has taken after us. We have yet to explain Ninpō to him and yet he is already showing his proficiency. Based on my readings, he has a lot of energy backed up. It would probably be preferable to educate him in his abilities before it leads to complications.” Donatello speaks matter-of-factly. He continues typing on his wristband, the electronic sound of the software echoing off the walls. Raph sighs slightly, rubbing a palm down his face.

“Donnie, that is not a relief. Little guy’s already going through so much.” Raph seems stressed for Mikey, his bad eye a bit irritated from the tears from today. Leo nodded his head. Miguel was thrown for a loop; Raph and Leon were agreeing ? They never agreed, except for when it came to protecting the family; Leo finally subscribing to their oldest brother’s overprotective mindset. But Angelo’s smile only got wider. Now, he would get to be right against Raph and Leo. 

“Brothers, Donald has made wonderful points. If we don’t tell him, it will just make his issues worse. He needs to know.” Mikey joined the side of his genius brother, wanting what was best for his twin. And to be able to do twin Ninpō moves, but that's beside the point. Mikey spoke in a much more formal tone of voice than usual, trying to jut in with his addition to the argument. His brothers looked at him, one was smug, the others worried. 

“Hermano, he is already shaky in his mental health. I don’t want to add to everything on his mind. He’s fragile.” He chuckles, a bit nervously. He’s trying to cover his vexation with his perceived personality. Leon, the poster child for smugness and flamboyance, has undergone an astonishing transformation. The once carefree spirit who strutted through life with an air of invincibility now stood, his normally confident demeanour shattered. Worries etched lines of concern on his face that had never before seen a frown. His laughter, once ringing with arrogance, had been replaced by the solemnity of anxiety. It was as if the world had turned upside down, and Leon, once impervious to life's trials, now grappled with the weight of uncertainty. The sight of him, vulnerable and anxious, was a stark reminder that even the most confident hearts could tremble in the face of unexpected challenges. Miguel softens his expression as he looks on at the slider. 

“Lee. I’m anxious too. But he’s a Mikey. I’m a Mikey. I think I would know what is best for him. And you wanna know what would add to his fragile mentality? Something happening in his body and him having Ninpō that he doesn’t understand. When he finds out himself, he’s gonna be scared and that’s going to affect him.” Angelo tried to speak softly but defended his stance vehemently. He could see where the two of them were coming from, but Miguel had his opinion in his mind, and he was not about to be convinced otherwise without a substantial fight. 

“Technically you are two separate individuals, Michael.” Donnie doesn’t look up from his wristband. Angelo whips his head around to look at his brother. Don was currently undermining his argument. Sensing the tension in the air, Donnie looks up and his drawn-on eyebrows raise. “But I still agree with you. He needs to be educated of his circumstances.” 

Raph looked between his three younger brothers and sighs. He goes over everything and concedes. 

“Raph can understand. It will do more damage to keep this hidden. He will need support and we will provide it.” He rubs at his bad eye. Angelo shooed his hand away. 

“Thank you. And don’t rub it. It’ll just get more irritated and then Leon will have to give you more eye drops.” He then hugs Raph, smiling widely. He saw this as a victory and pumped his hand into the air. Donnie smiled as this was also his supposed triumph. Leon seemed distraught. He was filled with a protectiveness over the new addition to the family, it was new and burned as brightly as the need to shelter his own brothers. But he was outnumbered and bowed his head in surrender, worrying his bottom lip. Angelo got down from Raph to wrap his arms around Leon. He didn’t need to ask the blue brother to explain his feelings, they just started pouring out. 

“We haven’t had anything good since we saved the world. We’ve just been recouping, trying to recover after that whole fiasco. Honestly, I was getting a bit stir crazy staying down here with you guys, but we were in no condition to be going back up to the surface. Now something good literally drops in from nowhere. He was in really bad shape, and he’s been getting better with us. But what if he wants to go back? We’ve been avoiding the conversation of why we can’t send him back to that place. And I just need him to want to stay here. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if we sent him back voluntarily.” Leon holds onto his youngest brother as he pours out his thoughts from the last few weeks. Angelo holds onto him tightly. He understood completely. The four of them have given him so much care and attention that he needed, and they all knew the unspeakable truth of Mikey’s home situation. It was never said out loud, just shared, knowing looks and the feeling that something is deeply wrong. The emotional attachment was quick as well; Mikey had unknowingly brought the four of them together in a shared goal of building him back up from the shattered pieces. 

Chapter Text

I see you’ve been partaking in fruitless ventures in my absence. It has been a while, huh, Michelangelo? You know what you saw. They are falling apart without you; breaking just like you are. You left it as Donnie’s problem. He was always the one to fix things. He repaired, he built, he revived. Raphael destroyed: he broke, disassembled, and demolished. But he was strong and usually only destroyed in order to protect. Leonardo observed; he could see issues and point them out to Donatello so he wouldn’t have to waste time trying to locate what needed to be fixed. He would point out targets for Raph or make him see the error in his ways. Mikey only sustained. He looked at what Donnie built, saw Raph protect it, and heard Leo give tips on repairing it. The only thing he did was keep it at equilibrium. He could only prevent damage.

Mikey was splayed out on the mattress. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat. He whimpers as images start entering his subconscious; things he doesn’t want to see. He started feeling things. They weren’t his feelings, they felt foreign as they invaded his body. He was sitting in a misty clearing; the air was cold, and silence grated against his eardrums. What caught his eye was the foggy visage of the tree from his home. He stared on in awe. The tree had begun wilting and no longer grew leaves back in his home dimension. No matter what Leo did, without Sensei’s green thumb, the tree wilted after his passing. But now, Michelangelo could bask in its pastel vibrance. He could even smell the soft, wafting scent of its leaves and bark. He feels tears in his eyes as he gazes at the memory that is frozen in time in his mind. The cold air doesn’t bother him anymore as he can lose himself in the pleasant memories that he associated with that tree. 

“Mikey?” A soft voice echoes through the landscape. He is pulled from his fantasy as he looks over. His mouth goes dry. His eyes widen as he raises his head and sees his big brother. 

“L-Leo?” He feels frozen in place, defervescence sinking in. His legs move without his mind being able to catch him. Then he’s running. Leo is outwardly crying and takes a few steps forward. He opens his arms for Mikey to run into, tears streaming down his face. He seems to be blubbering uncontrollably. It has been a month and a half. He hasn’t spoken to his brother in nearly two months. 

Mikey’s snout hits into a transparent barrier right before he can feel Leo’s embrace. His head is flung back by the force, and he cries out. It would be expected for the spot of impact to spread out like a spiderweb, cracking the image of Leo, yet it remained steadfast. He collapses to the clouded ground with tears in his eyes and a throbbing pain covering his face. He gapes up at Leo, a look of betrayal buried in his sky-blue eyes. 

“Oh my god, Mikey! Are you okay?” Leonardo drops to his knees as well, pushing against the invisible obstruction separating them. He desperately clamours against the glass. Mikey rolls back onto his hands and knees to crawl towards him. His hands meet the obstacle where Leo’s rest and can only feel the cold, cold, cold. 

“What’s h-happening?” Mikey holds his snout. He sounds so young now like he has reverted years to when times were easier. He looks up to his older brother, counting on him for answers. He must know, he has to know. He could ascertain what the issue was, he had the answers. Leo was observant; he could take one glance at the situation and understand what was happening. Leo noticed. He had to know. 

But he doesn’t. The only thing he can see is his little brother in a heap in front of him. He couldn’t do his one job. He couldn’t hold him. He couldn’t whisper sweet nothings to him. He couldn’t tuck him into his bed, kiss his forehead, and wish him sweet dreams. He couldn’t cradle him as he soothed his whimpers after a night terror. He couldn’t hug him tight. He couldn’t rub soothing circles against his shell until he fell asleep, churring against his plastron. He couldn’t even feel the body heat of his youngest brother. He couldn’t comfort him like he was supposed to do. He hasn’t been for a very long time. But he was blind. He didn’t notice what he should’ve; now they were irreparably demarcated. Torn apart between separate dimensions. 

“I don’t know. I’m…” Leo struggled to get his thoughts into any semblance of order. “I was meditating.” He practically whispers, yet his voice sounds so crisp in the vacant topography. “The soul leaves the corporeal body, which allows it to traverse across into different realms. But I wasn’t meditating well, I can’t clear my mind nearly enough these days.” Leo speaks with as melodic a voice as he can muster, hoping to give his youngest as much comfort as he possibly can. He pauses, watching the panic in Mikey’s eyes slowly subside. “But is your snout okay? I need to know.” 

Mikey is caught off guard but suddenly starts chuckling. “There’s the Leo I know.” He smiles up at him, but it’s solemn and bittersweet. “I’m fine.” They took a second to just drink in both of their appearances. Both of them looked rough but in dramatically different ways. Mikey was recovering: his shoulder was still wrapped and smelling of rubbing alcohol. Leo was worn, rundown after years of pressure and erosion. After an even longer silence. This time not suffocating, not painful, and bone-crushing. Mikey asks the question he’s been thinking about since seeing his oldest brother in this place. “How did you get here?” 

“I don’t know. I wasn’t meditating. It was like I was pulled into a trance.” Leo ponders. He appears confused and even disconcerted, which is a new expression to spot on Leo’s face for Mikey but was commonplace in the orange turtle's absence. He regarded Mikey and finally laid eyes on the tree in the background. He lets out a gasp at the sight of the emblem that they had come to associate with their father. He finally lets his eyes take in the information around them. The plain, pallid scene that surrounded them. The gentle waft of smoke obscured the floor; its milky expanse gave the impression that it was vast and infinite. “You have the tree on your side. I think… Mikey. I think you brought me here.” 

“I’m no good at meditation or astral projection or the soul energy things Sensei taught us.” Mikey seems dismissive, trying to wave off the accomplishment. It was an accident anyway. 

“No. You weren’t good at sitting still and calming your body in order to meditate. You caught on to astral soul projection much faster than any of us.” Leo speaks earnestly, finally pulling something deep to the light. Mikey’s innate potential and proficiency. He was the first to learn katas. He was the first to master the backflip. He had the best balance. He was the most flexible. He had the hardest-to-master weapon and flung it around with such ease that it used to make Leonardo’s blood boil. It was never spoken. Leo would never let it be known that he was so deeply jealous of his baby brother. But, as he aged, he saw Mikey hold himself back. He watched him lose almost all contention in the dojo. He noticed that he would make more jokes and show less of his talent. He would flip around, manoeuvre, and evade like water. He flowed effortlessly while Leo struggled to keep up. Leo was good, he learned at a normal pace and had the passion, but it came second nature to the youngest and he used to feel such vindictive things towards his innocent and fun-loving brother. He takes in the sight of the little brother he has done wrong for most of his life and finally sees for the first time. 

“Naw. Leo, the meditation thing is your thing.” Leo shakes his head at Mikey’s words. 

“I shouldn’t have excluded you from things. I didn’t mean to at the time, but I should have known better. I treated you so terribly.” Leo began lamenting, desperately trying to string words together to give to Mikey. The orange turtle’s soft smile dropped, and his eyebrow ridges creased in confusion. Leo held up his hand to silently ask Mikey to let him continue explaining. “You catch onto things so quickly. Do you remember that day we took the family picture in the kitchen? I said that I admired how positive you can be. I technically lied. I admire you so much more than I could ever make myself tell you. But I was blinded by entrenched envy. You are such a wonderful ninja. You can soak up training so much faster than me or Raph or Donnie and it made me so angry. I was so jealous of you. You got all of Dad’s praise and attention. I should’ve been happy that you were happy, but I’m so selfish that I hated you for having what I never did.” Leo sniffled and maintained eye contact with his little brother as he spoke. The words lingered in the air; the biting frost settled on both of the turtle's bodies. They had twin tear tracks staining the front of their masks. 

Mikey’s lips tremble as the words echo through his mind, rattling in his skull. He hears it played on a loop. “I should be happy that you are happy, but I’m so selfish that I hated you for having what I never did.” First, he heard it in Leonardo’s voice before he heard it again in his own. Over and over again. They switched around, overlapped, and muddled together until they were indistinguishable; moulded together into a single cry of anguish. He understood. They were on equal footing, equal ground of a shared, deeply disturbed, and deep-rooted soul. 

“I understand.” It was all he could mutter to him. They sobbed in their respective positions on the misty ground. If left undisturbed, Mikey could stay there for hours, looking at his brother. He was so close yet so far. But Leo started to pull himself to his feet. 

“We need to get you home. I have so much to say to you. I don’t know why or how you brought me to your mental space, but I am glad that you did. Donnie has a portal made. We explored a little and it spat us out in the middle of a confusing city. So, we had a plan to keep searching the new dimension until we found you, but if you can search for where our portal opens up, it will be so much easier. We can bring you home .” Leo surveyed him with hopeful eyes, the deep azure sparkling with newfound hope. Mikey’s shrinking smile immediately pumped the brakes on Leo’s muttered planning. Mikey bites hard on his bottom lip. 

“L-Leo. It hurts so badly to say this. But we are being honest together, right?” Mikey locks eyes with him, begging him to understand what he is about to say. He swallows audibly, trying to mentally prepare for what he intends to speak of. “It’s horrible. I know. Leo, I know... But I don’t know if I want to go home.” Mikey realised how much taller Leo was than him. He looked up into his eyes, expecting to cower at the frustration and judgement he normally associated with those midnight blue irises. Mikey noticed how Leo has grown; he notes the image of an older and much more mature eldest brother. His skin had shifted in hue to be a bit darker; his voice was gruffer, and he was taller. He wondered if his other brothers had grown similarly. The silence around them allows his mind to wander, but he is pulled from his spiral by the look in Leonardo’s eyes. They aren’t harsh or cold. They looked at him with deep regret washing through his eyes like a tempest. He looked at him with sombre heartbreak. His lips trembled and he choked on a sob. 

“N-no. Please don’t say that. Mikey. We’ll make it better. I can make it better .” Leo pressed against the impediment, his tears smearing against the clear surface. He tries to scratch at the glass; pound at it and sob as he attempts to push through to get to Mikey. The orange-clad brother can only observe from his side of the wall, feeling his inner turmoil bubbling to the surface. He hiccups and wipes at his eyes. 

The words burned on his tongue, the dough rising from his chest and searing the back of his throat. He didn’t even feel himself mutter the words, they came out a flaming, scorching pain that scorned his oesophagus. “I don’t think you can fix this, Leo.” 

Mikey shot up in his bed, his brain felt like it was being torn in two as he reeled from the astral projection. He grabbed his head and couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. He choked and gagged on the uncooked bread in his throat. He gasped and dug his nails into his scalp. He cried, rocking back and forth on the thin mattress. The pain-seeking stimulus grounded him, but he was still helplessly floating into an abyss. He couldn’t breathe. His vision was splotched with dark, ugly spots that decorated his sight. He scratches at his skin. He stopped being able to exhale, his lungs taking in air, but trapping it in their sticky confines. He whimpers and feels his stomach lurches as his lungs burn and spasm. 

Look what you've done. They know. They know your thoughts. You abandoned them when they needed you most and now Leo knows. Raph and Donnie are going to find out and you couldn't even bring yourself to astral project them in as well in order to tell them to their faces. You can't even look your dear brothers in the eyes when you betray them.  

There’s a soft light in the corner of his vision. A soft, pastel, yet brilliant yellow as three fingers grab each of his wrists. They pull his hands from his head very gently. There's a soft humming floating through the room. Michelangelo still struggled to breathe, he sputtered as if he was trying to breathe with a sticky, tar-like substance filling his airways. His fingers twitch with the need to keep digging into his skin. The hums come right to his shoulder and Mikey can feel the vibrations rumbling softly on his skin. Turtles could hold their breaths for a surprising amount of time, but even then, he was close to the black overtaking his range of vision. 

“Hey. Michael.” In the small window of clarity, Mikey can see bright red and emerald-green coming into view. His first reaction was to kick and scream, fight. Yet he felt the restrictive goop within start to give way. His airways slowly cleared as he focused on those blurry, firetruck red stripes and the song drifting in and out of his conscious mind. It took a few moments for him to realise that he recognised the song. 

Chapter Text

Goodnight my shining star - Please sleep at this midnight hour - Shut your eyes - Heed my words - Wake to the sounds of birds - In the mourn - I’ll kiss your head - Settle down and get to  bed.

Mikey was cradled in warm arms. The now familiar feeling of dried tears stained his face as he brokenly sang along to the soft melody. He felt two pairs of hands, 12 fingers rubbing soothing circles on his shell or head or arms. The feeling of their callused fingerprints was a grounding sensation that brought him back from the teetering edge of nothingness. He felt a tiredness that could only be described as bone-deep and abhorrent. He shook and shivered despite the warmth being pressed into his skin by the two around him. 

Angelo had fallen back asleep in the moments after Mikey calmed down. He couldn’t help the feeling of disdain at himself. It had taken hours to soothe him from the throes of the dire panic attack; Leon and Miguel holding his hands in theirs, so he didn’t scratch at the crown of his head. Angelo had been humming the song that ultimately guided the slightly smaller orange turtle back to a better mental state. Hours of hugging and soft words and cradling and rocking. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Mikey felt as if he was a swinging pendulum. He would swing in one direction, start feeling happiness seep back into him. He would start to feel the reinvigorating sensation of laughter and contentment. Then he would wildly swing the opposite direction and be plunged into cold self-destructive thoughts and his false face imbued with hatred. He was terrified of the new dimension he landed in. Then he started feeling a sense of kinship and familial love from the alternate version of his family. He had the boiling rage at his counterpart that he attempted to keep under lock and key. It exploded out of him during his episode in the kitchen. What followed was the dread of his consequences, what the brothers would think about him in the aftermath. But that too, was smoothed over for the sake of healing; them getting a good laugh out of it. And now tonight: being spiritually reunited with Leo, getting through some trauma and starting to mend their broken relationship. He finally had a positive outlook on his life, then he had to dash his own hopes with his own selfish wants. Leo promised that their family was still salvageable; he said that things would be better. Mikey just had to come home. But of course, Mikey just had to do regular Michelangelo things and not shut his mouth. He openly doubted that their family, the most sacred thing to the Hamato clan, could be fixed. 

He had immediately and abruptly cut their connection and woke with a start. He startled Miguel from slumber with his panicky breaths and sharp sobs. Leon was there shortly after. He didn’t remember much of that panicked blur, but he doesn’t remember Angelo leaving to get help. Leon must’ve noticed. 

Miguel started snoring softly against his shoulder and he almost chuckled at him. That burning, nasty, toxic feeling no longer plagued him. It was weird; the moment he spoke it to his face, his jealousy of Angelo shrunk so much it was practically nonexistent. A small surge of jealousy resurfaced at Miguel able to sleep after this, while rest still evaded him. 

“Still can’t sleep, Little guy?” Leon whispered, which was a stark contrast to his usual bombastic speaking habits. He adopted Raph’s nickname for Mikey in order to more effectively soothe him. Mikey was pretty surprised across the board by Leons current actions and attitudes. Mikey stops singing shortly after.

“I thought you were asleep?” Mikey was genuine, his voice quiet and raspy. He’s found that crying roughens the voice. 

“Nah. Too cool to sleep, ya know? I’m sure I know why you can’t sleep, but you wanna tell me?” Leon kept his movements fluid and delicately as he rubbed and caressed Mikey’s shell. Mikey curled up slightly to get closer to him. Angelo shifted slightly but settled back down into peaceful sleep. 

“This might sound crazy. But I meditated in my sleep accidentally and spiritually connected with my own Leo. He was so… distraught. They have been looking for me. My Donnie finished the portal, but it spat them out in a random place. He wanted me to go back. He l-looked so broken, Leon. He also looks so grown now, and he practically begged me to come back, assuming I wanted to go back.” Mikey paused. His words were soft and tiny; he leaned back against Leon. He kept going, his bright, baby blue eyes slipping shut. “I told him I didn’t know if I wanted to go home. He got almost frantic and said that he could fix it. But Leon. I want to think he can fix it, but I don’t think he can. And I don’t think I want to go back. I feel so fucking bad. I can’t sleep. I’m scared I’ll accidentally start to astral project, and I’ll have to face him again.” Mikey spilled his worries, trying to avoid eye contact with the alternate version of who he was trying to evade. Leon listened with a crease in his brow. “And now I’m accidentally astral projecting and I’ve never done that before.” 

“Is astral projection like Ninpō?” Leon asks softly, seeking some clarity in the situation. He didn’t necessarily agree with Miguel and Don, but now he could see the effects unfold with his own eyes. He saw how distressed Mikey was about the possibility that he was changing uncontrollably and Angelo’s words echo through his head. His concerns were still there, but now he could finally see the merit that his younger brother held. He could catch it early, before this becomes an actual issue to Mikey’s self-confidence. 

“Ninpō? What is that?” Mikey asked with confusion but innate curiosity. His eyes open to look at his older brother. 

“Ooh.” Leon was hit by the task of needing to explain the Hamato’s inner powers and magic through the power of their shared culture and heritage. It was complicated and not the easiest to explain and Leon wished that he had Donnie there to explain it all in technical terms and emotionally devoid jargon. But Don wasn’t there, it was him and he would have to be enough for Mikey. 

Chapter Text

“So… It’s like superpowers that you only get by being a Hamato? Woah, dude.” Mikey looks up with wide eyes, the baby blue practically glowing. No, they were actually glowing, illuminating the darkness of the room with specks of whitish yellow. Michael goes on without noticing his bioluminescence.  Angelo has been conked out for hours and only two awake turtles can hear the bustle of early morning on the surface. Leon gazed into the sky blue, noticing the small pinpricks of golden amber in Mike’s irises. He ran a three-fingered hand over Mikey’s shell, feeling the thin ridges of cracks. He could see gold pulsing in between the fissures, thrumming to the beat of Mike’s heart. He does a quick tap of all three fingers in quick succession before taking a small breath. He had done a lot of talking over the last two hours; meticulously explaining the ways of their universe to his baby brother. 

“Woah, indeed, Michael.” Leon sighs out, letting his head fall on top of Mikey’s, tucking the smaller’s head under his chin. It was ironic, really, how he was against this idea and yet he was the one to walk him through it. But Mikey understood Ninpō and how it worked to the best of Leon’s knowledge now. Leon couldn’t help the worry bubbling in his chest as Mikey was, well, glowing. He has never seen Mikey glow himself, but from what he’s heard from Raph, Donnie and Casey, the two times he’s heard about a Mikey glowing ended with Mikey dying or having to live with permanent nerve damage. So, this was a bit concerning. 

But he was the face man, the charismatic bad boy, not the worrier. Worrying was Raph’s thing, but the big guy must’ve bitten him with some sort of big brother bug because here he was. He cradled Mikey, keeping an equal and attentive watch over Miguel as he was slumped over in slumber. He wished he could go back to how he was before: careless, fearless, seemingly limitless. But old scars were once bloody wounds and Leon could taste pennies. Mikey shifted in his arms to look up at him.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly and calmly. He yawns at the end, but his eyes glow with determination to remain awake. The elder looks at him with glassy eyes, taking a shaky deep breath and holding him tighter. 

He is hurled back towards the ground, his shell groans under the impact and he grips the filmy photograph in his hands. His vision is blurred by salty tears, the only image his eyes can receive is a large pink blob slamming him down into the ground again, again and again. He can distantly hear his own screams of immeasurably pain, yet his body is numb. Leon is flung as he floats through the low gravity of space; small chunks of dirt and debris bumping his shoulders before he scrapes against a landmass. The filmy photo is still clutched in his hand, creasing the faces of the only ones that mattered to him. His strength put into holding desperately at the polaroid the same way helplessness and despair gripped his heart. He faintly hears the thump as the Krang approaches his prone form. Leon’s face was stained with tears, he looked at his family, saying final goodbyes out into the ether. Right as he was about to accept his fate, he saw a spark. A spark of hope, a light in the darkness, a destination, a saviour. He looks past the Krang to see golden light shimmering, glittering in the depth of the inky abyss. 

It wasn’t how he remembered it, this wasn’t Michelangelo’s portal, it didn’t swirl like a fiery and determined comet. The gold grew, cracking the space. The sound of shattering glass fills Leon’s head and he flinches. It was deafening, blocking out what the Krange says in his memory. The cracks spread, spider webbing out like a two-dimensional image in a three-dimensional space. The cracking flakes off, revealing blinding light underneath, the cracks seep into the Krange, eventually shattering his image. Leon watches the object of every night terror he has these nights crumble into shards and splinters. He watches in horror as the cracks get closer to him, he tries to shimmy away, watching the cracks avoid him and shatter the world around him. He is left floating in a white expanse of almost blinding light. He brings his family image close to his chest, seeing the previously bleeding wounds were now healed over. The glass sound fades, and Leon’s left in pure nothingness. He looks to his left then to his right, trying to make sense of this. His gaze catches on a misty form in the distance. He rises from the floor, getting closer with shaky steps. He sees a large, twisting tree, surrounded by fog. It is a vibrant, lively green with its leaves lightly swaying in a peaceful breeze Leon couldn’t feel on his skin. He hears a disturbance and spins around, his eyes meeting deep azure blue. 

Leon shoots up from where he had fallen asleep on Mikey’s mattress. He meets the sparkling twinkles of gold streaking through the swirling pools of sky blue in Michael’s eyes. Mikey was panting with wide eyes. 

“I-I did it again. But with you this time.” He whispers, his voice unsure and worried. “Are you okay Leo?” The glow was dimming as Leo looked on in shock and awe. Mikey watched him raise his hands slowly and hold onto his arms; his thumbs swirled comfortingly. 

“Yeah. Yeah, Hermano. I’m peachy. I was just remembering something, but it was different from usual. Did you have something to do with it?” Leon raises his eyebrow ridges slightly. Michael had said that he had done something? Leon’s mind swirled in confusion and returned to awareness. Usually after a flashback like that, he is wracked by waves of aftershocks, images still floating on the edges of his peripheral, sounds only ghostly whispers in his eardrums and his skin feeling too tight from the inflexible scar tissue that covered him. But this time was different. 

“If Ninpō is like you say, I think I did it by accident. You started doing that thing. You were reliving a bad memory and I just wanted to help.” Mikey seemed bashful, unsure if his unprompted delve into Ninpō would upset his older brother. They both froze as Miguel shifted in his sleep. Angelo was splayed out on the mattress, his head hanging off the side and arms on the cold floor. It would undoubtedly be uncomfortable if he was conscious, and he would need some significant stretching once he wakes up. Leon sighs. 

“I don’t know what you did, but I am feeling better, Mike. Thank you. What did you see when you helped me?” Leon made sure to ask for information to feed to his genius brother to get a hypothesis to what was going on with Mikey. Donnie had gotten on him quite a few times about not gathering information about crises when they happen. 

“I can’t solve an issue I don’t know anything about, Nardo.” He would say with the same unimpressed crease in his sharpie eyebrows. 

Mikey thought for a second. Then answered once he had his thoughts gathered. “You started glowing. But not like your blue glowing when you teleport.” He started quietly. Leon interrupted.

“Like goldish yellow?” He offered, already picking up what Mikey was putting down. Mike nodded, relieved that the task of explaining was made easier for him. 

“Has that happened before?” Mikey tilted his head as he asked. He desperately hoped this wasn’t an occurrence out of the ordinary for his Ninpō wielding brother. Mikey’s thoughts raced with the idea that he was somehow messing with their Ninpō. Somehow his arrival and continued stay in their dimension was creating an inherent instability in the dimensional balance. Like the butterfly effect for timelines, except on a much larger scale. Casey Junior was here without issue, but maybe with him, it was just too much for the homeostasis equilibrium that the universe seeks to maintain. He tipped the scales just a bit too far and it was causing ripples to the other inhabitants in this dimension. Mikey paused. These were some very smart sounding thoughts. Since when did he absorb any of Donnie’s science ramblings? Mikey is quite literally snapped out of his thought spiral by Leon snapping softly in front of his face. 

“Mikey, hey, Little Buddy. I need you to come back to me.” Leon was saying very gently to coax the youngest back to earth. Mikey blinks to see Leon looking very concerned. He chuckles nervously, unsure how to describe what caused his dissociation. Leon seems sympathetic and decides to not pressure Mikey on what that was all about. 

“No. This hasn’t happened before. Because that’s your Ninpō, Hermanito.” This wasn’t entirely what Mikey was hypothesising, but this wasn’t necessarily good news. If Mikey had uncontrolled Ninpō, he would need to be careful to not harm others. He really needed to stop doing these cool things by accident. He wanted to be in control of himself. He was the only thing he can control and that slipping away from him was terrifying. 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

“Mikey!” Leonardo shoots up from his father’s bed, covered in sweat and his eyes frantic. He looks around the dark muddiness that surrounds him. He runs a three-fingered hand over his face, trying to stabilise his breathing. He had him. They were so close. What he wouldn’t give to have his baby brother in his arms, hearing and feeling his pulse in his hands, running his hands gently over Mikey’s shell comfortingly. He feels so cold in his bedroom by himself, stuck once again in the endless abyss of rejected pigments. There are soft thumps from outside the door, someone else had entered the dojo. Leo recounts their conversation in his head; vaguely feeling gentle, guiding hands on his. Blue meets brown as he locks eyes with Donnie. Despite his soft touches, Don’s eyes are cold and distant, analysing and calculating. 

“What’s wrong, Leonardo?” He asks, searching for the issue instead of offering any comfort to the situation. Donnie looks physically exhausted, yet his mind spun in a genius Leo will never understand. “Are you feeling any symptoms of psychosis? Visual hallucinations, shortness of breath, short bouts of unconsciousness, temporary blindness?” Donnie checks him over, his mind obvious in ‘Doctor mode’. 

“I saw Mikey.” Leo manages out. Donnie lets out a sigh. 

“Okay, vivid visual hallucinations, cool.” Leo grabs his hands.

“No, Don, listen to me. While I was meditating, we connected. I got to talk to him. He’s okay…” Leo relays the information with short breaths and tears in his eyes.“He connected us. He actually astrally projected to bring me to him, Donnie.” Donatello meets his gaze with a level look. His eyes soften and he slips out of his role to look at his older brother with hope. 

“Did he tell you where he is? Could we get him now?” Leo deflated somewhat; he shook his head. The words he needed to say clogged up his throat and stung his lungs. 

“We… didn’t get to talk long. But he’s safe. He said he’s okay.” Leonardo assured his younger brother. He held his arms back as he slipped back into the leader and big brother their family needed and moulded him to be. Donatello sighed in relief. His chocolate eyes shone in unshed tears. 

“Thank god he’s safe.” Leonardo watched some of the load of guilt and vexation lift from his olive-green brother. Leo cracked a small smile. 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

There was a light rapping on his lab door, Donnie almost didn’t catch the soft noise cutting through his intense gaming frenzy. Don was in his swivel chair, shrouded in his usual purple hoodie. He watches his character die on screen from the smallest distraction and has to suppress the urge to cuss out whoever had the audacity to interrupt his precious self-relaxation and mental rehabilitation time. He twirls around with a disgruntled look on his face. “Yeeeeeeees?” He drags it out, hoping to convey his displeasure to the other in his lab. He looked to see Raph standing in the doorway. It was pitch black behind him, the eccentric colours from Don’s death screen flickered across his skin. Raph looked him slightly below the eye.

“What did Raph tell you about staying up this late?” Raph chastises very gently. Even with the warning, it means little. Donnie was never good at context clues, but luckily for him, Raph is the easiest to read and predict of his brothers. Raph takes a few steps inside, allowing his large form to enter the doorway. Donnie sighs, dropping his controller onto the side table. He rolls his eyes. 

“Sigh. If I remember correctly, you said that my physical health should come before my need to beat any game I’m playing. And I should set time limits to ensure that I don’t strain myself like I tend to.” Donnie concedes, rubbing at his red and irritated eyes and sinking down in his whirly chair. “Annoyed sigh. Was this the reason you came in here, dear brother?” He softly glares up with an annoyed look in his eyes. Raph cracks a small smile as he shakes his head. 

“No, Don. I wanted to talk with you, something’s been nagging at me, and I can’t sleep.” He shrinks down, bashful as he takes a seat on Donnie’s lab floor. The hooded turtle held his tongue, so he didn’t say anything unbecoming to his eldest brother.

“Well. I’m here for you?” He posed it like a question, unsure of how to correctly give support in what was forming to be a very emotionally charged issue.  Donnie’s eye flicked around the room before finally landing at Raph’s golden eyes. Don’s gaze softened when he saw the scar that marred Raph’s eye, the brilliant golden-amber slightly duller in that eye. The silence blanketed the two of them, discomfort and concern perforated through the thin paper energy of the room. Raph’s shoulders sagged and he hung his head. 

“Have you been working on the teleporter at all?” He looks up a bit, wringing his hand around his wrist in nervousness. Donnie raised an eyebrow, his attention grabbed at Raph’s query about his progress. Donnie gave a quick swirl in his chair before sitting cross-legged in it. 

“Nope. Not a bit. Miguel and Nardo have been working with Michael to harvest their Ninpō and I’ve drawn up blueprints under their watch. I have no intentions of building a teleporter. I am appalled by the supposed living conditions our dear brother was in. I gathered some information from the new addition that in his dimension, they actually have stagnant sewer water in their living room. The stench that must come off of that. Disgusted sigh.” Donnie popped the ‘p’ sound in ‘Nope’. He was straight-up with Raph, mostly because he has no shame in his plan. He continues on his tangent. “I’ve just now have him showering regularly because he was stuck in some sort of rebarbative squalor. Now that he’s up to the preferred and adequate standard of cleanliness, life can be back to the balance and equilibrium that’s needed.” Raph held his hands, spreading out his fingers. 

“Woah, Don, Don! It’s really good that he’s here, but why aren’t you working on the teleporter device thingy?” Raph wanted to know the reasons behind Donnie’s actions or supposed lack thereof. 

“I have said ‘I am appalled by the living conditions he lived in.’” Raph waved his hands to shush Don.

“No no no. What is your plan here, Don? Keep him here? What if he wants to go back?” Raph looked up with pleading eyes. He seemed to tiptoe what brought him to Donnie’s lab. Don clocks it and starts to process the possible words that Raph hides underneath what he says audibly. It takes him quite some time and he quirks a confused look at Red, unsure what exactly he meant. The answer was so obvious. 

“Yes? He is of no right mind to make these types of decisions for himself. Something deeply wrong must be brewing in his mind if he willingly wishes to return to that stank hole he crawled out of! And the suppression of curious minds wishing to learn is something I can never pardon.” Donnie stood up, upright with a fist pumped in electrified spirit. Raph took a second to look blankly at him before bringing a hand to his temple. 

“What? I was there and now… you’ve lost me.” Raph watched as Don huffed. 

“So other Donatello, I shall refer to him as the lesser one, has barred Michael from enriching his dumb dumb brain. Michael has shown actual want to learn and the capacity to but has been stunted. If taught in a way that he can understand, he has great potential to be less dumb dumb.” Donnie moves his arms in an animated way to try and articulate his points. There seems to be a bubbling anger sealed within his seething teeth. He shakes his fists at his sides. Raph raises his eyebrow ridges. 

“Woah. Donnie. Where is this coming from? Ya saying Mike wanted to learn? I remember him saying that he wasn’t allowed in the lab and whatnot. But that’s beside the point right now. I know you are very passionate. Don, I need focus.” Raph gently presses both hands on Don’s shoulders, trying to bring him back to the topic he wants to hear. “I know you care a lot. Emotions are weird for you. I need to know what you were planning, Don. If Mike ever asked you on how the teleporter was doing. What would you say to him?” 

Donnie took a second to switch topics and his eyes glimmered with the light shining from the defeat screen of his game. “I would say exactly what I told you, dear brother. I would: advise against him going back, clearly declare my concerns and disdain, and detail my plan of adequate punishment against the lesser us using my arsenal of favourite banned weapons of war and various pointy objects.” 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Casey Junior didn’t know as much as he thought he did. He was surrounded by his loved ones, but they weren’t who he knew them as. Leon was trying. He has matured drastically after their talk and saving the world and whatnot, but he wasn’t the same as Sensei. It wasn’t anything against Leon, he isn’t there yet and because of the timeline and CJ didn’t think Leon would become the Sensei he knew and grew up with. And he was alright with that; he grieved the ones he lost every day, but still carried their memory. He could finally meet Raph and he enjoys his company. He’s found a home outside of the apocalypse and he thinks he’s acclimating just fine. 

But then bright magenta light had to disturb their comfy afternoon while Angelo was painting his nails; the swirling lime green pigment now peeling from them. They all rushed to Donnie’s lab to find a second Michaelangelo on the grounds. Weird, but okay? The next few weeks he watches the family that adopted him so readily take another soul under their care. He felt a sort of kinship between them, both not where the universe dictated they should be. Casey Junior was not in his timeline; Mikey wasn’t in his dimension. They seemed to have something in common at least and CJ just couldn’t help himself from staring sometimes when Mikey was in the room. He was intrigued in the vast differences between Mikey and Angelo, comparing and contrasting them whenever he could listen in to their conversations. Angelo preferred to paint, Mikey liked to draw, Miguel enjoyed fashion, Mikey had an extensive comic book collection, Angelo was a really good cook, while Mike loved to dance. 

Casey could never say anything. He watched from afar; crippled by the monumental task of approaching him. Casey kept it all inside his head, letting it sit and simmer. It was just another thing to slowly replace the endless boxes of seemingly useless apocalypse knowledge in the attic of his mind. Krang battle strategy and rat cooking knowledge sliding into obscurity. They were replaced by freckles, baby blue eyes, and the light, lime green spots and blotches. Casey memorised everything, committing it to permanent memory. Every small quirk, stutter and freckle was memorised; once he started smiling, each crease in the corner of his eyes and his dimples were burned into CJ’s retinas. 

What the hell is going on? 

Chapter Text

“Mike! Mike! This place is so cool, right? I’ve been telling you about the Hidden City, but you really needed to see it for yourself! You’ve been needing to get out of the sewer, I could tell.” Angelo smirked at him, his brown eyes shining, reflecting the neon colours of the scenery surrounding them. Mikey took a breath, feeling like he was taking in air for the first time. Clean, crisp, chilly and only slightly tinged with smoke. He felt his lungs fill, the sting of cold air causing his skin to buzz pleasantly. They stayed at the top of the building, the bustling of the residents of the Hidden City below them. The vibrant colours assailed his eyes, painting him in saturated pinks, purples, blues and oranges. He had never seen so many colours at once. Unless it was that time with the beavers, but this was different. Mikey let the soft breeze blow his mask tails behind him and he took a steep breath. 

“Angelo. Thank you so much for getting me out.” Mikey looked down at the mutants and yokai hurrying through the streets, he could hear street vendors shouting and the gentle hum of thousands of voices engaging in general conversation. It looks overwhelming down there, Mikey not used to large crowds. Miguel takes his arm. 

“Anytime, Twinny. Now, are you ready to meet Barry? He’s like my second dad.” Miguel giggled, pulling Mikey towards the rooftop’s edge with a mischievous grin on his face. Mikey smiled softly, following him as he whooped and hollered across the rooftops. Mikey soon caught up to him, finally able to stretch his legs. He flipped and somersaulted across the cityscape; the pleasant burn of athleticism burned through his veins. He was finally remembering how fucking rad he was. Angelo joined him, staying close and they even pulled off some cool twin moves, which made Miguel even more bubbly. Mikey was laughing, actually laughing and the sight made Angelo warm inside. He could finally peel back the layers and view the spark catch flame. Mikey saw him staring at him in awe and pushed off from his one-handed handstand. 

“Are… you okay?”  Mikey gently prods, taking a small step towards him. Angelo nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah! Why wouldn’t I-” Miguel cuts himself off, his face slowly drops as he trails off. His chocolate brown eyes move from Mike’s to slightly off to the side, his pupils dilating. Mikey looks more confused and worried, turning to look behind him. He could only see the crazy architecture of the Hidden City, covered in neons and weird billboards. 

“Miguel. What did you see? What’s wrong?” Mike was getting progressively more distressed the longer Angelo remained silent. His baby blue eyes pleading for an answer as anxiety peaked. Miguel blinked before looking at him.

“Nothing important. Just thought I saw something. Let’s get to Barry’s. I think you’d really like him.” Angelo grabbed Mikey’s arms again and started leading him. Mikey was taken by surprise by the change in Angelo’s demeanour. He was sure he suffered whiplash from the switch in topic. Mikey wanted to ask more questions, probe him further for answers. Then he reminded himself that Angelo had almost died, and most likely carried a heap of trauma from that. He was sure his twin had seen something that caused a spike of anxiety that maybe the Krang were back or any other horrible thing he’s dealt with. Mikey doesn’t push, instantly understanding the want to keep some things quiet. Some things were better left untouched and unspoken of yet were known by all the brothers to be true.

The two of them kept running across the sharp and interesting cityscape of the Hidden City, revelling in the unique challenge of scaling difficult architecture. Soon the two were about to revert to hollering and laughing as they flipped in unison towards a destination only Angelo knew of. They arrived and Mikey was taken aback by the imposing building in front of them. It looked large, dark and intimidating. He looked to Miguel with a silent question and the slightly taller chuckled. “He’s a teddy bear, really. Just likes to pretend that he’s scary.” A look of understanding crossed Mike’s face. He nodded and they ventured forth. 

They enter through a loose trapdoor on the roof, dropping into a spacious and evil-looking laboratory. Mikey was getting a lot of red flags from this, but trusted Miguel with his life. Angelo looked around, a smile still on his face. Mikey whispers to him. 

“Are you sure we should be here? I’m sure he’s nice like you say he is, but you think maybe we should have at least told someone we left?” Mikey rubs at his wrist in nervousness. 

“Have faith, my brother. We will be fine. It’s just Barry.” Angelo held Mikey’s hand to calm him and stop him from rubbing his skin raw. He seemed completely fine with the fact they were out without really anyone knowing. Mikey wasn’t usually one to sneak out and needed some convincing. According to Angelo, they are allowed to leave the lair as long as they are with a big brother. 

“I’m a big brother now.” Angelo had said with a smirk. “We aren’t breaking any rules. I am technically a big brother because you are here. No fear, Twinny. No rules are broken, just slightly… bent. Loopholes, baby!” 

Michelangelo really wished they had told someone at least because now, he felt unsafe in this big, malicious-looking lab. Then Angelo sucked in a deep breath, Mikey’s eyebrows raised and before he could stop him, Miguel yelled loudly throughout the entire empty lair. “ Barry! Your favourite son is here!” Mike’s mouth hung open as he sputtered to shush Angelo. There was a loud thump, followed by an echoing curse. And in a matter of seconds, they were face-to-face with sharp, orange eyes. Mike looked up at the imposing figure, taking in the pinkish skin and slightly fussed maroon hair pulled into a half-bun. The mutant sneered at them before his eyes caught both the turtle figures. 

“Axum-dre. Padre! It’s Michelangelo.” Angelo waved at him with a wide smile on his face. The sheep mutant man tsked. 

“What have I told you of those foolish nicknames? My name is the Great Baron Draxum!” He doesn’t spare long defending his pride, before his gaze falls on the second orange-clad turtle. His gaze is indiscernible. “And who are you?” His voice reverberates through the empty space. Mikey was more focused on how his draped white and teal kimono reminded him of his father’s picture of Tang Shen. His wandering mind snapped back to attention at Draxum’s intense leer. 

“This is Mikey, also Michelangelo.” Angelo introduces him, like that explanation was understandable and provided easy answers for all questions about Mike’s existence. Mike takes in the questioning look on Barry’s face. Mikey takes a deep breath, before he can explain further, Draxum’s voice cuts through.

“Did Donatello split you? I tried to advise him against splitting DNA and cloning, it’s a messy process.” Miguel snorted and started laughing. While Mike was utterly lost. He pushes through to explain. 

“I am from a different dimension. You know Casey Jones Junior? How he’s from a different timeline? I’m like that but… dimension.” Mikey really wishes the floor could swallow him fully as he hears the words coming from his own mouth. This guy was obviously scientifically inclined like Donnie, he didn’t need it explained to him. He also was surly and probably could inflict a lot of damage if provoked. He was surely going to take this as a type of slight and dislike him. 

“Is that different dimension the one where Michelangelo is a messy ball of anxiety? Seriously kid, chill out.” Baron deadpans, his face turning unimpressed, and Angelo only laughs harder. Mikey is caught off guard so hard that he loses his train of thought. "Moving on. Different dimension? A dimension hopper is rare, but not unusual. Interesting to see Michelangelo has found himself. Is he gifted in Ninpō as well?” Angelo looked to him and shrugged, still recovering from his laughter. Mikey chooses to speak up, slowly getting less uncomfortable with the large sheep mutant. 

“I think so? Leon was telling me about it and he did a lot of glowy things. And then told me that it was actually me. Which I guess he was right, all his glowy things are usually blue.” Mikey seemed worried and nervous to talk about it and Miguel seemed to look taken aback and surprised at what Mikey was saying. 

“I thought we told each other everything, Twinny.” He whispers, feigning hurt that Mkey could keep something like this from him. Mikey went to apologise when Baron raised his hand to silence the two of them. 

“Show me.”

Chapter Text

Apologies in advance, I'm writing this on my phone.

I absolutely despise Authors notes; I have mentioned this a none zero amount of times. But I believe this is in order. Remember how I said I would update more regularly? I obviously did not. I have broken some readers trust as I know that this is, for some reason, actually important to a few people. So I'm sorry. My main reasons for not uploading chapters are:

1.) I had to withdraw from my Uni

The tuition had been raised for that semester and onward and I just didn't have enough financial aid to allow me to continue going. This was a genuine issue as I was living on campus. Like I had no home outside of my dormitory type beat. I had to take a leave of absence from my Uni. All of my stuff is still in my dorm, two hours from where I am staying and no transportation to reasonably get there to get my things. I'm living with my mum and her boyfriend.

2.) Living with my mum and her boyfriend

If anyone can tell from my writing; I do not have a good relationship with any parental figures. I am fatherless and the relationship with my mum is not ideal to say the least. I would rather not get into it too much; I'm not trying to be psychoanalyzed on AO3. And her taste in men is more questionable than mine is. I will not hold back on my barely contained seething dislike for this man that is my mums boyfriend. Or Ex-boyfriend, It is safe to say they are no longer dating. Very bad and awkward when they live together and I am also in close proximity. 

3.) Being kicked out

Due to them actually not liking each other at all, my mum and her boyfriend had a fight. Alright, standard occurrence, nothing special. No. Their fight started in their bedroom and was so intense they had to migrate out into the living room where I was to continue their quarrel. The fight goes on for quite some time, eventually crescendoing into a shouting match.

"You don't even love me. You just like the idea of me." Says my mum. Funny story about this line. I recognized when she had said this, because this was one of the things that I had said to her when bringing up the healthy heap of trauma she had pushed onto the already sizable lump on my psyche.

"I do love you, even if you support terrorism!" Is the gist of what he replies. Their argument started about America refunding the original down payment Iran made on some missile planes back in the seventies. His argument was America giving Iran back it's money after not supplying said missile jets pretty much gave terrorists nukes. I am getting off topic here, but just to give some background information, it was an argument that was political in nature.

"No you do not love me. You need me. You need me to cook for you, and clean up after you and pay for half of this house." Is her reply. Which I will admit, kinda goes hard.

"No I don't." Everything he had said up to this point was no bueno, but these three words were definitely not going to win her back in any capacity. Him flipping between saying 'I love you' and saying 'I don't need you' made me a Tsundere by proximation. 

"You are such an asshole."

"Get the fuck out of my house right now." He opens the door, gesturing for us both to leave by waving his hand towards the outside like he was wafting some rank stench out. "I want you both out of my house today." Telling someone to move out in less than 24 hours is unreasonable and completely impossible, even when angry.

"Where do you want us to go? We have nowhere to go." 

"Take all your shit out to the street, I don't care." So armed with knowledge that we cannot leave his house, he probably felt a flood of metaphorical Alpha Male hands coming down from the heavens to stroke his micropenis of ego. 

But here's the thing, Mum wasn't playing. We started packing that day. It took at least a few hours for me to convince her that even if he is the human equivalent of Pink Eye, it would not be safe for either of us to lodge in a Homeless Shelter instead of staying here. The best part though, was watching his face as he saw more and more of my mums stuff being packed away and the realization sinking in that if she left, he had no one to weaponize his incompetence against. And instead of forming an actual apology, sent her texts from his bedroom apologizing and asking her to not leave. He is a coward and a twat. Fuck you Stephen, you will never live up to the reputation of the whimsical spelling of your name. 

I apologise for ranting. Anyway. 

4.) Internet Connection

The internet here sucks actual ass cheeks and I can't even start a chapter without fear of losing connection and losing hours of progress. 

I believe that this is everything that I have loaded into my shotgun of excuses. I live in an actual nightmare. My life is an angst fanfiction written by a writer with my levels of cruelty. Which makes sense because only I could weave this story into reality for myself. Anyway, with that entire thing now on the internet forever, a new chapter will be posted as soon as I can get a stable internet connection. Hope everyone else had good holidays and a New Year, because so far mine is shit. 

New updates soon, luv you all Lol. 

Chapter Text

The lair was chaos; furniture was overturned, pillows strewn across the concrete floor. Don stopped in his tracks, rubbing at his tired eyes. He fixed his battle shell, repositioning it to sit better on him. It was uncomfortable, but he preferred it to feeling exposed and vulnerable. He mindlessly pressed the various buttons on his wristband, the echoes of beeps and boops following him through the hallway. He entered the kitchen, stepping over a chair and stopping in front of the coffee machine. A perfect cup of coffee was sitting on the tray, already made to his liking. There was little in the lair that wasn’t connected to the baby strapped to his arm. Sheldon flew into the room, his electronic eyes portraying distress.

“Creator.” The robotic turtle addressed him in his metallic voice.

“Yes, baby boy, my dearest son?” Donnie responded, tired, but lovingly towards his beautiful creation. 

“It seems that Leonardo and Raphael are feeling extreme stress.” Sheldon responds, his voice monotonous, but Don can tell that he enjoys the nicknames.

“Is that the reason for…” The purple banded turtle gestured to the general disarray their home was in, Sheldon letting out a robotic sigh at the carnage he would be forced to repair in the aftermath. 

“Yes.” Donnie nods at the robot confirming his suspicion. He takes a big swig of his coffee, rubbing at his temples. 

“I guess I have to go help them. Annoyed sigh. Why must I be such a wonderful and caring brother, Sheldon?” Don sighs dramatically, swaggering towards the hallway to track down his panicking twin and older brother. He finds them in the orange train car, stressed mutterings can already be heard from where Don approached. “You know they are going to be peeved you went through their stuff, you know?” He says, cocking a hip to the side. Raph first poked his head out, his eyes wide with shock and his hands trembling in anxiety. Of course, Don took notice and noted it as a clue that maybe this was a bigger deal than he anticipated. 

“Thank God, Donnie. Do you know where the Mikeys are?” He asks, hopeful and itching for an answer. Don’s drawn-on eyebrows raise as Leon exits the train car as well. 

“We can’t find them anywhere, Donnie. We’ve checked everywhere.” He seems out of breath with sweat on his brow. 

“I saw. The kitchen table was turned over and every pillow on the couch was in a different corner. Did you two really expect to somehow find them IN THE COUCH?” Don looks on in disbelief, taking another sip from his mug. Raph looks slightly bashful at the absurdity of it. Leon, however, doubled down.

“Of course! Who knows where those little devils could squeeze into. And we are in a panicked state, Tello, check the signs.” He gestures to both himself and Raph with stereotypical overdramatic Leon movements. 

“Well fear no more, dear brothers. The genius Donatello has a solution.” Immediately, Donnie turned on his heel and started to walk back the way he came. With little choice, Leon and Raph followed suit, trading uneasy, concerned looks. Sheldon has two robotic arms out of his metal shell, using a broom and dustpan to clean up the various piles of feathers and fluff from the ripped-up cushions in the living room. “Wonderful work, darling boy!” Don makes sure to tell Sheldon affectionate encouragement as they pass, much to the confusion of Raph and Leon. 

“Um, Don?” Leon asks as they enter Donnie’s lab, stepping into the shadowed and darkened laboratory. He’s met with a hum to signal the mentioned turtle was listening. “What’s with that?” Leon jabbed a thumb behind him to mark his point. Don turned to him and looked directly into his twin’s eyes, his gaze serious and intense. 

“I will be the supportive father I wish I had, Leonardo.” He speaks with conviction. “With all this family healing, I will not allow Sheldon to grow up with the same trauma as I did. The cycle of generational trauma stops here.” Leon backs off, shrugging to Raph. The eldest seemed to smile softly at Donnie. 

“That’s good Donnie. You’re doing really good.” He says gently. Don’s eyes shift from Leon to Raph, dropping the intense blaze behind them. 

“Oh. Um. Thank you, Raphael. Let’s get to finding our little brothers, then.” To avoid the feelings bubbling up, Don jumps into his swivel chair, causing it to spin and letting him face the computer screen. A map of the entire county they lived in popped up on the screen as he typed a bunch of confusing commands into his wristband. “So, by using the tracking chips I definitely don’t have implanted on every one of you, it should be easily to triangulate their coordinates on the X, Y, and D axis’. D is for Donnie.” After a few more taps, a bright icon with Angelo’s face appears on the screen, floating over to a part of the map of New York City. Donnie points at the screen with a wide smile on his face. “Right there! I know I’m great. Applause. Applause. I’m waiting for your applause.” 

“Are you sure? Is that where Mikey is too? I don’t see his icon.” Leon pointed out, his voice giving away how worried he was.

“Well, I haven’t been able to get a tracker on him ye- I mean. There is no tracker on either of you. Nervous chuckle.” Donnie tried to pull it back, trying to convince them that he actually did not implant a tracking device on either of them. Raph sighs and crossed his arms with a gentle smile.

“Just drop it Don, we know you did. It’s fine. It’s been really helpful to be able to know where I or our brothers are. Just next time you wanna do invasive tracking and monitoring procedures, get consent first, yeah?” Raph reached out and hovered his hand over Don’s shoulder, giving the air a few pats like he would comfort any of his brothers but never making contact. Donnie lets out the breath he was barely holding. 

“Thank God. I don’t know how much longer I could keep up the act.” Don puts his hand on Raph's, giving his large hand a pat as a rare sign of affection. The three of them smiled and Leon unsheathed his sword. It came out of its sheath with a clean shhiiinng. 

“Woohoo! Let’s go get ‘em baby!” Leon swung his sword and it hummed to life with blue energy. He cut through the air, and they hopped through an electric blue portal, landing on the concrete on the other side.

Chapter Text

The lights were blinding, light creamsicle sky tinged with puffs of grey smoke. Fluorescent lights blinking, horns blaring, and billboards burned through LED bulbs. They hid behind the metal supports of a billboard, the advertisement barely kept stable with cobbled together metal sheets and supports. The light hum of the advertising board seemed to drill into his very head, the utter silence cut through with the endless droning of electricity. Leonardo looked to the side, seeing the bright purple, orange and blue hues dripping over Raphael’s form. He seemed to be bathed in the lights, looking over the jagged cityscape and staggering skyscrapers. 

“This dimension sure is… interesting.” Donatello notes, looking around at the various blinking lights and bustling in the streets below. “This does look like a place Mikey would like. I mean look at all those different types of mutants! They all live together, unbeknownst to humans!” He slowly creeps around the edge of the rooftop, trying to see as much as he can without leaving his brother’s side. 

“Yeah, yeah. Super cool that we have to try to find Mikey in a sea of other fucking mutants.” Raphael growled out sarcastically, crossing his arms with a grimace. Leonardo looked away from Raphael, the urge to correct his brother’s cursing died on the tip of his tongue. 

“We’ll find him.” Leo said, his voice somewhat scratchy. He cleared his throat and started to walk. “We should get a move on.” After getting the confirmation from the other two, they started jumping across rooftops, professionally jetting between alleys and cracks between buildings. Eyes whited and every move calculated; they traversed the unknown city with ease. Tense silence floated between the three of them. Leonardo hears Raph scoff to his left.

“Think you couldn’t have teleported us closer to where Mikey is, Don?” Raph’s red bandana whipped around behind him violently like a war flag on a battlefield.

“Sorry I couldn’t get exact coordinates when building a teleporter to jump over dimensional lines, Raph!” Donnie bit back, sneering in annoyance. 

“Yeah, bring us to the middle of a city filled with other mutants when trying to find one mutant, real helpful, Don.” Raph continued his attack; Leo can practically feel his eyes rolling. 

“Raph.” Leo muttered out the warning, his voice soft and no longer holding the edge it used to. He was promptly ignored, the other two continuing to squabble and argue. Their words seemed to blend together into a cloud of incoherent mumbling and hums. Leonardo’s lungs burned from the smog hanging through the air, and a thin layer of sweat gathered on his brow. Just run. Cement underfoot, lights whizzed past. Focus ahead. Keep going. Push. Go. Nothing else matters. Keep going. Don’t st-

“Stop Leo!” The voice cut through the blurring tunnel vision that settled over Leonardo’s eyes, making him nearly stop in his tracks, shifting his weight and turning to face behind him. He saw Donatello and Raphael running to catch up to him. He immediately shook his head to try and shake off the fog, looking apologetically at his brothers who slowed to a walk in front of him as they neared. 

“What the fuck was that, Leo?!” Raph shouted, breathing heavily while jamming a finger into the eldest’s plastron. Leonardo looked over the two of them, noting that they were physically fine aside from the fatigue. 

“Sorry. I don’t know. I just… kept running.” The excuse felt juvenile; he felt stupid once the words pushed through his lips. Donnie nodded, seeming to understand, while Raph looked at him with slack jawed disbelief. Raphael’s hands came down on Leo’s shoulders, grabbing him and shaking him fiercely.

“Earth to Fearless! What does that mean? Are you even here?” He snapped in front of Leonardo’s face, earning another eye roll from Donatello.

“Raph, if you don’t stop yelling, I’ll-”

“You’ll what, Don? What will you do? Nothing. I’m trying to get Leo to snap out of whatever stupid muck his brain is in. What are you doing? Nothing.” Raph looked directly at Donnie, glaring with an intense gaze that could petrify the toughest of enemies. Leo staves off the incoming migraine and grabs Raphael’s wrist.

“Raph.” He said, clearly now. The cautionary was real now, the intent behind it apparent. Raph scowls and yanks his hand from Leo’s grasp. Donnie seems to go stark still. 

“This is fucking bullshit. It’s always you two against me; always a two versus one.” He walks away, turning his shell to the blue and purple brothers. His face was morphed in a seemingly permanent seething sneer. Leo could see that he was close to jumping down and disappearing to sulk. “Whatever. We gotta find Mikey, which neither of you seem to be in any hurry to do.” 

Leonardo was taken aback by the accusation, shocked into silence. It felt alien; usually his anger would flare, and he would immediately start yelling to defend himself against Raphael’s targeted words. They cut in deep, digging into tender flesh and tearing through arteries. Leo practically choked on his own saliva, silence flowing into his head. He couldn’t even notice Donatello screaming. 

He looked over to see twin tear tracks streaming down his brother’s face and watched him speak silent words. Donnie’s mouth contorted and trembled as he sobbed, his voice ringing through the crisp air and assaulting Raphael. They stepped forward, face to face, each sporting their own angry glare; acidic green meets burning brown. This is what it feels like. Every time he and Raph were at each other’s throats, this was the feeling that plagued them. It stuck in his throat, silencing him. He felt the gut instinct to do something. Anything. Leo stepped forward. You are the oldest. Fix this. Fix them. Complete your responsibility or it’s just another failure. Leonardo took a few steps forward, trying to come between them. Finally, his world crashed back down, everything surging to the forefront and the shouting echoed at full volume. Raphael’s voice dripped with the same malice it always did during a fight. Donnie’s voice was almost unrecognisable, filtered through the pure agony he screamed with. It fueled him in the moment, the only thing that powered Donatello’s energy was rage. But both of them were drowning in pain. It was undeniable to the eldest now, he heard in every sneer and comment. He saw it in every punch and jab. He felt so useless, standing on the side and not able to pull them apart. He was pushed to the side, both Raph and Donnie too absorbed in their fight to notice. 

Leonardo sighs in defeat, watching with weary eyes as his incomplete family falls apart further. He doubted that even getting Mikey back could salvage them now. They were a lost cause. He had failed so spectacularly. He knew that if Mikey was here, he would probably make a joke about how they looked constipated. And then Mikey would laugh at his own joke. What he would give to just hear…

Mikey laughing? Leonardo whipped his head towards the sound, the noise easily cutting through the ambient racket of the city and his brothers screaming next to him. His legs nearly gave out, tears springing to his eyes. He was right there . It was crystal clear, the curved outline of his baby brother’s shell rooftops away. He stepped forward and realised that Mikey wasn’t alone. He almost ran. He almost sprinted directly towards his brother before he saw who it was. 

Another turtle, wearing the same orange mask as his brother. Their eyes locked and a shrill was sent down Leonardo’s spine. He seemed to be looking right through him. Leo saw how his eyes dilated, even from so far, he could feel the emotions pouring out from the other Mikey, in just a single gaze. Leonardo turned to follow his line of sight, his own eyes widening.

Chapter Text

“You’re the reason he’s fucking gone in the first place!” Donatello pushes against Raphael’s plastron, wet tear stains staining his purple mask dark indigo. He balls his hands into fists, swinging them wildly into Raphael’s chest. His sobs muffled his voice. 

“What does that mean? What are you saying?” Raphael asks, his voice finally losing its bite as his jaw gets tighter. Raph’s shoulders are tense, and he keeps his hands by his side as Donnie beats against his chest. Donnie stops, taking a breath in and standing straight. He looks down at his older brother, his eyes steely. Raph stays silent, looking up at him with a look that could only be described as dangerous. He grabs Donnie’s wrists and the both of them tumble off the side of the rooftop. There was no time to scream; no passing moment for Leo to jump into action. He ran. He could only run. Leonardo dived off the rooftop behind them. 

Raphael claws at Donnie, flipping them over as they land with a sickening crack against the cement underneath. A blur of green, blending into the cacophony of neon haze that surrounded them. A flash of electric blue and the screech of crushing metal. They roll over; a trash can pounds to the concrete and a scraggly cat runs from it to avoid the carnage. Raph cages Donnie to the ground, holding his head down with a three-fingered hand while he strikes at his chest and abdomen. Leo lands on a fire escape, not caring to undo the ladder to reach the ground safely. His knee cracks uncomfortably from the shock of the landing and he continues his downward sprint to reach the fight in the alley underneath. 

Leonardo’s hands reach out and he latches onto his raging bull of a brother, pulling him off of the genius. He tucks his forearms under Raphael’s pummeling arms, heaving him backwards with as much strength as he could muster. Donnie takes the moment of reprieve, slowly sitting up while holding his bruising stomach. Raph shouts out, digging his heels down and flipping Leo over his shell. The eldest is able to stick the landing but is sent staggering down the narrow alleyway by a swift kick. Leo whips his head up, looking frantically at where Mikey had previously been standing. He was already gone, disappeared into the ether. Donatello jumps back into action, tripping Raph with a low blow from his bō. Both of their eyes were still whited out, the red and purple brothers set on putting their years of training to use. Master Splinter would never approve of them using their most lethal attacks against each other.  

“He wouldn’t have been in my lab that day if you hadn’t hurt him. And if he wasn’t in my lab, he would never have left.” Donnie says, quieter now, but still stung with every word. He struggled against his much stronger brother; his words choked. He seethed, ejecting the blade from the end of his bō and buried it deep into the cracking concrete. The sharp steel cuts into the crimson tails of Raph’s mask, effectively ceasing all movement from the three brothers. A paper-thin cut from Donatello’s blade wept a small trail of blood along Raphael’s cheek as they all panted heavily, chests heaving. Donnie can see from his peripheral vision that Leo’s eyes widen and he’s visibly pale. 

“What happened? He was hurt?” He could see the confusion on Leo’s face, his pupils dilating. “I didn’t know this.” Leo looked between the two of them, stepping forward. “Why did nobody tell me?” 

“I don’t know exactly. It was dark in my lab, but there was blood on my floor where Mikey got teleported. Also, I heard something break in the centre room Mikey and Raph were in just before he came to me. I am not stupid. I can put two and two together.” Donnie doesn’t back off from Raph, looking down at him with cold eyes. He used his taller stature to his advantage, glaring down at his older brother.

“I… I didn’t.” Raph starts sputtering, looking away from them before Donnie grabs at his head.

“No. You’re going to look at me and tell me exactly what you did. I was going to be a forgiving brother and not mention it with Leo here, but you went too far and can’t even admit it.” Donatello keeps his shoulders back and primed, gripping his older brother’s head in his hands. He forces Raph to look at him, whispering under his breath. 

The look of shock on Leo’s face doesn’t evade either of their attentions, but this was between them. Moments of tense silence passes, Donnie makes no gestures to signify he will move off of Raph and Leo doesn’t go to free him. They sit in wait for an explanation. Any explanation. Eventually Leonardo’s voice cuts through the adversary fog. 

“What happened?” It was no longer a question. This was an order, a strict order. Raph stiffens under his younger brother. “You were willing to drag Donnie off of a building with you instead of just saying it, so you better start talki-”

“Shut up, Leo! I didn’t even touch ‘im! I was beating the crap outta the dummy and a wooden plank broke and shot off towards ‘im. He must’ve gotten scratched or something. He would’ve been able to get outta the way if he hadn’t had his fucking music up so loud! And I just didn’t want him in the room if he accidentally got hurt, okay?” The air hung heavy with moisture and a drop of water landed on Raphael’s face before sliding down across scarred skin to the cold ground beneath him. Another drop hit Donnie’s bō, absorbing into the porous wood. 

“But what you had said.” Leo murmurs. 

“I know what I said that day. You don’t think I regret it each and every second of my waking hours, Leo?! Mike just couldn’t get it through his thick skull that the longer he stayed glued to my shell the more likely he was to get hurt.” Raph grabbed at Don’s bō staff, pulling it from the ground, but it was at an angle that it sliced right through the thin fabric of his mask tails. He kicked Donnie off of him, brushing loose pieces of loose gravel from his skin. More droplets fell from the heavens, the cement under their feet reflecting the mind-numbing advertisements and LED neon signs from the buildings overhead. Each breath was tinged with heavy mist and the rain stuck to their forms. The passing and going pedestrians all pulled umbrellas and opened them, creating an ocean of black nylon frothing through the streets like the Dead Sea. 

Leo could start to see the colours melding together, mixing and swirling in intricate patterns that clouded each of their vibrant hues. It was like a breath of fresh air, this dimension, but now it was reduced to muddy tones sloshed together in a painter’s water cup. It was just like home. He had seen his brother; he had been so close. But now it felt like he had personally let him slip right through his hands. They had lost Mikey for a second time. 

“I didn’t mean to hit him, ya know.” Raph mumbles, his shoulders sagging in defeat. 

“That one time. You’ve hit him a countless number of times outside of that. It was only that this time he bled instead of bruised.” Donnie retracts the blade of his staff, rubbing his hand along the length as he spoke. “You act as if your actions have been out of nothing but love. Love for Mikey, love for our father. But I can’t possibly see that. I just can’t. And I doubt Mikey can either.” He sheathed his bō, wincing as he raised his arm above his head. He looked to his two older brothers, shaky on his legs yet standing in spite. 

“We need to go back home.” Leo says, his mouth straight and eyes creasing with stress as the rain poured down on them. He watches as Raph opens his mouth to protest and continues. “We are going to get sick in this rain if we stay much longer without cover and you two are battered and bleeding. We’re going home to get patched up and that is final.” Leo left no room for argumentation, no air to speak against him. He goes to Donnie and slings one of his arms over his shoulders to help him limp to an ideal spot to teleport back to their dimension. 

Donatello and Raphael never had any idea just how close they were to their baby brother. 

Chapter Text

“Breathe. In, hold and out. Focus.” Baron Draxum’s voice was deep yet calm as he led instruction. He stood behind Mikey, holding his arms still as he pointed outward, palms outstretched. 

“I have trouble focusing.” Mikey said, his brow creased in concern and embarrassment. 

“I know.” Draxum deadpans, sparing a look towards Angelo who was a spectator at the moment. He waved his arms like a kid on the bench just bugging the coach to put him in. Draxum sighs, refocusing back on Mikey. “I want you to use your imagination. Imagine for me, an egg.” 

“Like the eggs Donnie made smoke bombs out of?” Mikey asks, already imagining the small, fragile vessels that he used by the handful when his genius brother first invented them.

“Sure. Just imagine an egg.” Barry huffed from exasperation, trying to corral the young turtle. The round, white egg appeared in Mikey’s mind, the small mechanisms of Donatello’s smoke bond, fading away and leaving the pristine shell. Mikey nodded as the picture floated in his mind. “Now break the egg. Without your hands, think about it cracking.” 

The request struck as odd to Michelangelo. He tried nonetheless, pushing all of his mental energy forward. He imagined jabbing at it, throwing things at it, yet it remained unharmed. 

“Remember, no touching it.” Baron reminds him, checking over him to watch any changes from his body. Mikey continued his assault on the imaginary egg. He used everything he could think of: ninja stars, other eggs, his nunchucks. He swung his chucks around, feeling the freedom as he swings them around. He attacks the egg with a strong yell. 

"Booyakasha!” Nothing. Not even a scratch on the surface of the brittle shell. He took a mental breather, his brain buzzing with ideas and possibilities. He came upon an idea and built up his determination another time. He focused all of his energy on the imaginary egg, pressing at it from all angles. He slowly compresses down on it from all sides, applying pressure on the fragile outer shell. 

Under his squeezing, the shell starts to falter. Small, hairline cracks form along the surface and Mikey pushes forward. He keeps going, feeling the brittle pieces crumble. He starts to see gold seeping outwards from inside the egg, the cracks shining brilliantly. He sees the white eggshell fade and allow him to see the glimmering inside. The piercing sound of glass shattering fills his ears, and he watches with detached horror as the carefully glued together pieces of his soul were stripped away. He had been the one to crackle through his weak defences, sending them tumbling down. He felt the familiar sting as glass dug into his skin, he felt his breath hitch as he realises where he is again. He was back here, this mental state. 

But this was different. He looked back down, gazing at the fragmented pieces of crystal beneath his feet. Yet now, he saw his own face reflected at him a thousand times. He felt the gashes along his arms open up again, felt the small specks of mirror digging into his palms. He could see the glow of gold and could feel the warmth sweeping over his form. 

“I just want to be fixed.” Mikey says, defeated and weary. “I don’t want to be broken anymore, please.” He pleaded, begging the light for anything. He watches the soft ripples of orange swirl within the glittering phosphoresce. Then he heard his own voice echoed back at him, originating from the sphere. Mikey was taken aback, stepping forward to investigate. He could barely feel the pricking of glass under his feet. They still stuck to him as he moved. “What do I do? How do I fix what I’ve broken?” Again, his questions were redirected back at him in the same mimicry of his voice. His pupils dilated in annoyance. “Stop antagonising me and give me answers!” He yelled. He was met yet again with his own tone; the strong surge dug the glass deeper into his own flesh. His blood pooled out, the same shade of brilliant glitter in front of him. Michelangelo studied himself with a look of disbelief. 

He noticed the cracks in him, his own visage failing like the glass he crumbled. Without a second thought, he started pulling glass out of him, gritting his teeth at the pain and discarding the broken trash that jutted out from him. He spent the time to slowly pull the jagged crystal daggers from his arms, legs, and body. As every glass knife was removed, he could feel the gravity tethering him to the ground lessen. Mikey felt the weight fall away from him, crashing down to the ground as he started to float away. His mind felt blank, he felt… free. He was weightless. He felt the sweet release as everything that previously held him down was lifted from his shoulders, no longer his burden to bear. He spared a look downwards to say a last goodbye to the splintered remains of himself. 

He stopped, caught between the blinding light above him and the stifling darkness that drowned him below. He floated limbo, his eyes wide as he looked down at his family, his brothers, all of them. The pain he felt didn’t feel cutting or gnashing. He no longer had the glass digging into him to feel its sharp bite. But now Mikey could feel his chest filling up with the familiar dough rising in his lungs. 

“No. No, that’s not true.” He shook his head, choking on his words. 

Leonardo sat on his knees; his green skin has flushed to a permanent murky pine. He cradles something in shaky hands, his head bowed in defeat as his shoulders heaved with anguish. Donatello came into view, collapsing to his knees and crawling through the dusty dirt. Leonardo moves, racing to catch Donnie and pulls him away from his supposed destination. Donnie is in a crazed fervour, pushing at his oldest brother and silently screaming. He pounds at the soil ground and pulls up remaining blades of grass. 

Leon steps forward, the scene unfolding further. He looks shaken to his very core, holding himself in a self-hug and walking on trembling legs. He looks down at his alternate counterpart and Donnie, mouthing something indiscernible that makes both of them collapse further. Big Raphie comes in next, carrying a shell covered in bright stickers. He cradles the shell, whispering small words and soft murmurs into the head hole until Miguel pops out, slowly extracting his limbs from his protection. He looks sullen, his usual excited brown eyes dimmed to a dreary grey taupe. Miguel holds Ice Cream Kitty’s bowl in his arms. He crawls out of Raphie’s arms, staggering towards the point they all are staring at. Mikey can’t see where they are looking and can’t move from his fixed point overlooking the area. He can vaguely see April and Casey, standing to the side while holding each other. The other April is holding Mayhem close to her chest and forcing tears back. Junior stands off to the side, misty eyed and shaking his head. He’s also speaking, and Mikey curses his inability to read lips. He can even see Don without his usual battle shell, rubbing at exhausted and weary eyes. His signature eyebrows are faded from stark black permanent marker. His whole family circles around a single point and Mikey can’t get any answers. His yells fall on deaf ears and any attempts to move are futile. Soon their bodies part for Angelo to step forward. His face is stained with thick tears, holding his orange mask in his hands. Mikey can see the pain in him, the strength needed to grip the thin mask fabric with the damage to the nerves in his hands. He stops in the middle of their gathered circle, kneeling down. 

Mikey finally can see it. He watches with stinging breath as Miguel places his orange mask onto a small stone. It was positioned right next to a taller one with a soft carving of Hamato Yoshi. A slightly smaller mound accompanied Mikey’s late father’s, sporting the smaller tombstone. The smaller one already had an orange mask hanging from it, Mikey’s nunchaku crossed at the chains at the head of the pile of dirt. Candles were scattered between the two headstones. Finally sound filters into Michelangelo’s ears, the sound still cloudy and muffled. Ice Cream Kitty looks down at the grave, letting out a bawling cry. Angelo opened his mouth, his voice pained. 

“I do not deserve to share your mask. Let the colour of energy, happiness and love rest with you, Michelangelo.” 

“No!” Mikey screamed, his voice cracking as it felt like glass lined his oesophagus. “Angelo! You love your colour! Our colour! Donnie! You know this isn’t real. I’m not dead!” Mikey screamed into the abyss, watching from his floating point at his own funeral playing out in the broken glass below him. “I’m not dead.” He repeats, whispering. “Am... I?” Michelangelo looks at his own hands, the trails of flowing golden blood still oozing from his wounds, dripping onto the scene below like falling rain. He feels the response from the light, his own voice echoing back yet again. As he hears his own yells reverberate through the recesses of his mind, he comes to a conclusion. 

“I’m not. I-I can’t leave them. I need to stay! The-They… They need me!” As he shouts, the echo gets closer and closer to his own voice, eventually speaking directly in time with him. 

“My name is Hamato Michelangelo, and I am not dead!” Blinding light filters in; Mikey lands on the ground, swiping up the shattered pieces of glass. The ear-splitting noise of crashing glass sounds in his head. Mikey does it again. Just as Baron Draxum had instructed. Breathe in. Hold. And then out. The faded sounds of his family’s sobs fuel him. He yells out into the darkness and his skin stretches to cover his cuts, sealing itself over his wounds. Golden lightning shoots out from the tips of his fingers, leaving a slight burn and tingle along each gash, yet sealing his skin like a surgeon. Energy burned through him, crackling with steadfast determination. He sent out shocks and tendrils of tangled electrical currents, focusing them. Just like the egg, apply pressure. They started to calm, detangling and flowing into each other, they zig and zag along his vision. He holds onto each bolt, the glowing tendrils resembling the very cracks in glass he feared. 

“I…” He was speechless as he saw the power exuding from his fingers. “Was it never glass? Did I just… think it was?” Mikey runs to the scattered remains of glass along the floor, his golden essence clinging to the surface of a select few. “The clues were always there for me. I was leaving them for myself. I always knew what I needed to be whole again and just couldn’t do it.” Mikey rattled to himself while he dug through broken crystals. He started arranging the shattered remains like a sharp and painful puzzle. He started sewing the pieces together, holding it steady with his electricity. The glass bonds together, giving a soft golden glow once connected. He was making progress before reaching for a piece that cut into his palm. He winces and looks at it. This one didn’t fit with anything else, Raphael’s eyes stared back at him, still fiery and angry. Mikey drops the glass on instinct, the mirror shattering on contact with the floor. 

He was still scared. He still couldn’t look into those eyes and piece him back together with his family. 

Chapter Text

“Okay at first, I wasn’t expecting anything from the runt, but now he’s doing something.” Baron had his arms crossed in front of his chest, looking over at Miguel who watched with a look of starstruck awe across his face. Mikey stood in the centre of the room, golden whips and shocks radiated from him and floated around him. It resembled Angelo’s marigold chains, yet they weaved and intertwisted with each other, making vital streams of gold. Miguel reached out, the floating specks running through his fingers like silky sand. 

“Give him some credit, Barry, he’s doing more than something.” Angelo played with the streams, swishing his arms around to affect their winding golden paths. “It’s beautiful.” He murmurs to himself. The mystic magic seems to volute around Miguel, sparking soft speckles of glistening yellow ochre shining in his deep brown eyes. He walks closer to his twin, watching soft watery tears falling down Mikey’s face. Miguel cups Mikey’s face in his hands. “Don’t cry, Otouto. I don’t care about logistics, even if you’re somehow older than me. You are my little brother. And I don’t ever want to see you cry.” 

Slowly, Mikey’s eyes slide open, luminescent crystal blue scattered with flecks of gold leaf. 

“The clues were always there for me. I was leaving them for myself. I always knew what I needed to be whole again and just couldn’t do it.” Mike shudders out a breath, looking into Angelo’s eyes. 

“And what is that, Mikey? What do you need to do?” The taller gently prodded, speaking softly and wiping away hot, salty tears. 

“Piece myself together.” With his words, Mikey grabs onto a line of dust, willing to wield it. He runs it across his right shoulder, the ninpō sent out thin ripples of electricity along the surface of his shoulder, sparking life into the cells of his very skin. 

“Do you know what you’re doing, Mike?” Angelo’s brow was slightly creased in well-masked concern. Mikey shot him a genuine grin. 

“Nope. Just going with what feels right.” Michelangelo chuckles, the little shocks lit up his still-healing scars. The puncture wounds from that fateful plank of splinters slowly smooth over, healing much faster than possible from waiting. Soon the cicatrix and the memories it carried melted away, back into the soft lime freckles along Mikey’s skin. “Woah.” He breathed out, a sense of warm relief flooding his veins. “Not gonna lie, I’m surprised that worked.” 

“Twinny!” Angelo tackled Mikey, wrapping his arms around him. “You just did that! That was incredible! And it’s all so pretty.” Mikey chortles nervously, holding Miguel’s wrists in a tender grip. He smiles at Miguel before he looks down, running his thumbs over the carved ridges of damage running up the taller’s arms. 

“I think I can fix you too.” Mikey held their hands together, palm against palm. The same three fingers that picked him up after he shattered. Now it was his time. Angelo smiles warmly, but slowly shakes his head. 

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to.” Mike interrupts him, adamant and steadfast. “I want to help. I want to be useful. Please just let me do something for you.” Mikey looked into soft brown eyes and still sees the answer. The clouds of golden dust whorl around them, a tornado of gilded magic with two orange brothers in the eye of the storm. “Let me say thank you. For everything you’ve done. Not just for me. I remember that you said that you love to paint, yet I have not once seen you touch your paint brushes. I see the way you look at them and, with how difficult it is for you to do basic fine motor functions, I know why. I want you to be able to paint again, Angelo.” Mikey watches Miguel get teary eyed, his gaze lingering down to their abutted hands.

“My powers will only do the damage again. I push myself and I’ll get hurt again, you know that.” 

“I’ll be with you. Maybe I can heal you while you do it. Or you can always come to me anytime you hurt yourself too much.” Mikey lightly argues. His eyes glimmer with obdurateness. 

“Will you always be here?” Miguel’s hold along Mikey’s face tightens slightly. “Leo is our medic. He has done all he can to fix my hands. And what about your brothers? Are you saying that you aren’t going back to them?” Angelo’s eyes flick from leering into Mike’s eyes to drifting just behind him before snapping back in attention. Mikey gaped for a few moments, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping in open air. The golden glow slowly drifts on the wind and fades from around them. 

“I love my brothers. I-I just want them to learn to love me back like yours have.” 

“Our.” Miguel snickers, smiling brightly. Mikey sent a confused expression Miguel’s way. “Our brothers.”

“That is completely right, hermano! There’s no leaving us now!” Mikey feels long arms wrapping around his shell, squeezing them both against a sharp and strong plastron. Leon grinned down at both of them, his smile shined charmingly. “Now.” His face immediately fell, and both of the brothers were held by their mask tails as Leon’s eyes widened in stress. 

“What were you two thinking?!” Raphie came into view, looking similarly three seconds from cardiac arrest. But the red oldest was doing his best to contain himself. He was trying to further himself from the overprotective big brother stereotype, but his attempts were laughable. You could never take that out of him, it was a piece of his soul. 

“What? We followed the rules!” Miguel protested. “Also, how did you find us?” 

“This does not look like any rules we made, Angelo. And we followed the tracker Donnie implanted in you.” Nardo switched from sounding dramatically angry and dramatically matter-of-factly at the turn of a dime. 

“Well… Loopholes.”  Mikey tried, shrugging sheepishly. Raph looked from the both of them, slowly coming down from the edge of sheer anxiety at seeing that they were fine. Leon kept his arms around both of them, providing comfort, but also ensnaring them for answers. 

“Yeah. The rule was that there is no leaving the lair without a big brother. Annnnd, since Mikey is here, I’m a big brother now.” 

“Mikey- the man of symbolism and extrapolating meaning from dumb details, now is taking things at face value.” Leo releases the two of them to theatrically swivel his weight and jut his hip out, his hands resting on his sides.

“I don’t know why you’re upset Nardo, they very clearly followed the rules.” Donnie types away at his phone, not sparing a look in their direction as the robotic hand emerges from his battle shell and points at Angelo. “It is on you and Raph for not making the wording in these arbitrary rules airtight.” 

“Oh, thank you, Tello. I’ll be sure to listen to your valuable input when I ask next time!” Leon lays the sarcasm on thick, Don not giving him the pleasure of a reaction. Mikey giggles, his eyes creasing shut in his mirth. 

“Leon, if you would have listened to my always invaluable input, as you so lovingly put it, this would never have happened. If you would have come to me, I would have our entire myriad of rules written up with addendums and hotfixes for every conceivable loophole. But noooooo, Leonard and Raph make the rules.” 

“Donnie, to be frank, if we let you make the rules, the world would probably end.” Leon continued, putting emphasis on certain words. Mikey turned to the red-eared slider. 

“No, Leon, to be Frank, you’d probably have to change your name.” 

Chapter Text

Mikey felt overwhelmed. It wasn’t a new feeling, usually the pit settled in the depths of his stomach was something he considered normal. The overhanging feeling of dread lurking behind every corner and smile. Angelo had said something about it, calling it a name he couldn’t bring to the forefront of his mind at the moment. His lungs burnt, but it was a crisp, sweet burn as he ran alongside his family. He didn’t whoop and holler as he usually did but was content taking in the sights around him. Mikey was overwhelmed but was not very mad about it. I gave him something to chew on, thoughts flowing through his untapped mind like a flowing sink. He could watch Miguel flip across rooftops or observe Donnie utilising his jet pack attached to his battle shell or Leon stretching his limbs with every leap or Raphie launching himself across the sky. 

So effortless, carefree and happy. That last one was important, because it was a word Mikee wasn’t sure he fully understood the meaning of. He thought he did, he was sure smiling and cracking jokes and hugging close to his brothers constitutes as happy, but now… things were more complicated. There was a lot to sort through now, sifting through himself and his feelings. Leon’s voice cuts through the air, bright against the deepened purple skyscape.

“We should swing by Señor Huesos for food, huh, huh?” He tries to gather support for the idea, trying to gauge if they mirrored his feelings.

“We should be getting back home soon, Leo. It’ll be light soon, we can get Huesos tomorrow night.” Raphie says gently, smiling at his younger brothers. “Sound good?” 

Leon pouted a little but nodded. Angelo and Mikey nodded and smiled, ready to go along with anything that appeased the group.

“Yeah!” Miguel grins like the sun, Mikey smiles like a shiny little star, not as bright, but sparkling still. He was just happy to be out with them, feeling the wind against his skin and the air filling his lungs. He took a deep breath to feel the air, closing his eyes. The breath shifted, his mouth and jaw opening in a deep yawn. He stretches his arms above his head through the yawn. He felt a large, warm hand settling onto his shoulder. He rubs at his eyes through his mask. 

“Sleepy, Little man? You’ve had a big adventure today.” Raphie says gently, his palm moving up his shoulder to the top of his head.

“He did a lot of ninpō things today, makes sense he’s probably wiped.” Angelo says, slowing down to walk up to Mike.”You want Raph to give you a turtle shell ride?” The largest asks, eyes bright. Mike chuckles.

“I can walk, Raphie. Thank-” Before he can defend any more, hands were tucked under his armpits, hoisting him up to settle between Raphie’s spines and spikes. He holds on with a light chuckle. “I said I could walk.” He complained half-heartedly. He still held on, gripping the spikes in fisted hands, his head lolling to the side and resting against the snapping turtle’s head. He nuzzles into him, a content chirp sounding through the open air. The brothers gasp, actual turtle animal noises were rare, especially rare between Leon, Angelo and their brothers. But Mikey seemed content enough to let the noise slip. 

Next time Mikey opens his bright blue eyes, he finds himself swaddled in a soft, fleece blanket and curled up in Angelo’s hammock. He slowly moves his head and sees Miguel completely knocked out on his mattress on the floor. Mike tried to swing in the hammock to stand but was still tangled in the soft fleece. He just sleepily conceded that he wasn’t going to be getting out any time soon and let out a small, disgruntled groan. He watches a little surprised as Miguel shoots his head up.

“Hey, twinny.” He says, smiling. He tucks a hand under his chin to look up at his twin in his hammock. 

“Hey.” Mikey says gently. “Why am I in your hammock?” He looks around, not fully able to get out of his current entanglement.

“It seemed more comfortable than this shoddy mattress.” Miguel answers like it was easy. Mikey hangs his head down, looking at Angelo upside down, his mask tails hanging off the edge like small bunny ears.

“But it’s your hammock.” Mikey says defensively. Miguel just giggled and shook his head. He was sure to say it wasn’t a bad thing at all and that he didn’t mind. Mikey continued. “Maybe we can lay together?” It surprised him, the words came out of his mouth without his brain could catch up from his slumbering state. “If you want to, I mean. You don’t have to do anything.”

“Do you want cuddles, Mikey? You know you can just ask for it, right?” Angelo gets up from his position, padding over to Mikey swaddled in the blanket. He turns the turtle burrito in his hammock and settles in next to him. He fixes the blanket to curl further around Mikey.

“Do you want the blanket?” Mikey asks, half wanting to share the warmth and half wanting to be untangled from his soft trap. Miguel shook his head, nuzzling his head over Mikey’s. He wraps loving arms around him, stabilising him in comfort and care. 

Mikey was overwhelmed, sights and soft and touches. They breathed together, huffs of breath against the stagnant air surrounding them. He was overwhelmed but it was good. It made his fingers feel tingly and his lips forced into a gentle smile against his will. All he could do is slip back into sleep with a smile on his face. 

He woke up again to Raphie’s hand shaking him gently to wake. He mumbles but opens his eyes. He knows it’s Raphie before seeing him, feeling the large, warm hand against his head. 

“Hey, Raphie.” He mumbles, still clouded in a haze of sleep. He definitely overslept. He could feel it pulling at his eyelids. “Is it time to get up?” Angelo snores from beside him, practically coiled around Mikey in his sleep. Mike chuckles as he looks down at him. Raph joins him.

“Really don’t know how he can sleep so much. But yeah, we are going to Señor Huesos for pizza.” Raphie then tried to carefully untangle the folds of blankets and limbs of the orange brothers. Mikey breathed a sigh of relief as he was eventually freed of his warm, soft web. 

“We’re waking Angelo up for food?” Mikey asked, ninja sneaking out of the hammock to not wake his brother. Raph chuckles.

“Well after you knocked out last night, Leon had a little talk with him about putting you in sticky and potentially dangerous situations and effectively grounded him.” Mikey’s nonexistent eyebrows shoot up.

“He can do that?”

“No. Not really, but I think Miguel’s playing along anyway. I’m guessing he understood why Leo’s freaking. I was really worried for a long time, and angry when we found you two, but I am trying to understand that you two will need independence eventually. He’s… He struggles with letting things go after what happened.” Mike nods along. He thinks he understands.

“I’m grounded too, then?” He asks and Raphie chuckles.

“No, it would appear that Leonard has found himself a beautiful, innocent angel that can do no wrong.” Donnie leans against the doorway, watching the two of them with an eye roll. His tone is heavily sarcastic.

“I was equally at fault. That’s unfair.” Mike notes and both of them nod along.

“Which is why I effectively grounded Leon.” Raphie says and Mikey almost snorts in laughter. He facepalmed at the absurdity.

“So, it's just us?” Mike catches on to what was going on. He was met with two bobbing heads, them nodding. He smiles. “It’ll be nice to hang out, just us, huh? Let these two talk it through with each other?” Donnie shrugs. The three of them start to make their way through the entrance of the lair, chattering back and forth with random things. They settled into comfortable conversation, walking rather than sprinting and jumping. It was weird, but calm and normal. 

They made it back to the Hidden City within an hour or so, taking longer than usual, yet they all seemed content to stroll around. Mikey looked in curiosity at the ‘Run of the Mill Pizzeria' restaurant they seemed to be closing in on. Raphie opened the door for them, Mike saying a quick thank you while Don walked in while typing on his phone.

“Ah, las tortugas. Where’s the azul one?” A skeleton wearing a red pinstripe pants suit seems to appear from nowhere in front of them. He looks at Mikey. “Wait, naranja looks different.” He looks closer at Mike.

“Yeah, he’s from a different alternate dimension, long story, tell ya later. Can we get a table?” Donnie says deadpan, brushing off the multi-dimensional travel that brought Michelangelo to them as if it were nothing. Hueso seemed to stammer for just a second before gathering a few menus in his arms. He led them to a table, settling them down to enjoy a meal. 

“So, Leon wants meat lovers and Big man wants a margherita pizza. What kind of pizza do you like, Mikester?” Raphie puts his phone away to look at Mike, absentmindedly scratching at the scars around his eye. With a look from Mike, he catches himself and pulls his hand away. Mikey looked to Don who was still on his phone.

“I’m getting cheese, because I have taste and don’t need so many toppings messing up the texture.” Don waves his hand and Mike smiles at his explanation.

“Understandable.” Mike looked down at the menu, eyes practically glazing over at all the options. There’s a splash art at the bottom of one side. ‘Make your own Pizza! We have ANY topping you want!’

“What kind of pizza are you looking at, Little man?” Raphie asks with a gentle smile.

“Uh…” He trails off, still looking up and down from the menu. The waiter comes over, grabbing all of their orders before looking expectantly at Mikey.

“This is gonna sound weird.” Mike chuckles nervously. “Can I have a pizza with anchovies, jellybeans and jalapeños?” After the request leaves Mikey’s mouth, the waiter looks at him with a complete deadpan look. The waiter seemed to wait for him to laugh and say that he was joking, but he was fully serious. After a long pause, the waiter wrote it down and Mikey turned his head to see Don looking at him as if he’d just killed a baby. The look quickly morphed to pure confusion and suspicion. 

“What type of demon are you?” He asks, scraping his eyes over Mikey’s body and face which makes Mike laugh.

“I just like it. I have weird tastes I guess.” Mikey is nervous, yet Don doesn’t let up just yet.

“Are you a masochist?” Donnie blurts out and Raph sputters on his own spit. 

“You can’t ask that, Don. Especially in public.” Raph whispers and Mikey nearly turns bright red. He gently slides down in the booth, tucking his head into his shell. He wishes he could be sucked into the cushions of the booth they were sat in. 

“I’m gonna pretend I don’t know what that means.” He says, the words echoing through the emptiness of his shell. Raph looks like he’s going to bite Donnie’s head off. Silence falls over them, yet not truly uncomfortable. The food comes and covers the table in rich sauce and melty cheese, the smell making Mikey’s mouth water. The other pizzas are put away in boxes for Leon and Angelo while Donnie and Raphie dig into their own pies. He sees his pizza, the bright colours of jellybeans practically stuck into the eyes of the anchovies with the jalapeños put around them cutely like little wreaths around their little bodies. Mike pulled a steaming cut of his ‘za and stuffed it in his mouth. His crystal blue eyes gaze towards the windowsill he leaned against. The steam of the pizza hit the glass, fogging the pane.

Mikey stares at his own reflection through the haze, taking another bite before swallowing and lining a smiley face into the condensation. Through the lines he drew, he can see clearly to the town square outside. Don and Raphie’s chit chat falls on deaf ears. 

Mikey’s slice slips from his hand and his eyes widen, nearly popping out of his skull. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, the reflective surface of glass allowing him to see out, but also see his own face struck pale with shock. The sounds of the restaurant dim to a lull nothingness, Raphie’s and Donnie’s voice tuned to faint murmurs in the back of Mikey’s mind. Colours blur together as forms of Yokai speed through the centre of the Hidden City. Yet three colours in specific stick out, clear and sharp.

Blue. Purple. Red.

Mikey swears he can hear the echoes of shattering glass in the recess of his mind, but he forces it down. They were having a nice day; they were comfortable and domestic, and nothing was going to ruin this. Michelangelo was stuck in a staring contest with coloured masks, gulping down tears as emotions swirled around his stomach and squeezed at his intestines.

“Not very hungry, Little man?” He hears, finally something cuts through the deafening silence that clouded his head in dough and fabric.

“No, but I’ll definitely eat it later.” Mike manages to tear his eyes away, looking up at Raphie who smiled gently at him, but with the touch of concern he seemed to carry permanently.

“Now, I was hoping to stop by the mystic techno-gadgets stall in the mart centre before leaving. It’s the only reason I even said yes to this whole forced familiar bonding in the first place. Shall we go?” Donnie was already standing, ever so impatient. Mike was hesitant but stood next to him. Raph tucked the leftovers and other pizzas under his arm while they started to make their way outside. Mikey looked around frantically, within the few minutes he looked away, the masks seemed to have vanished, whether that appeased his anxiety or heightened it, he wasn’t quite sure. 

Mikey was almost glad for Donnie’s nature as he power walked through the crowd to get to the only stall he saw value in. They weaved and dodged around Yokai, trying to traverse such populated territory.

“Hey, Don, wait up!” Raph says, his massive figure getting swarmed by the passersby and the purple turtle streamlined the best path around or even through some people.

More passed by, shadows and clothing blurring together. Alarm bells were ringing and soon Mikey couldn’t see anyone. He felt the rough pushing and grumbles of Yokai that he inconvenienced as he desperately tried to get his head above the waves before he drowned in the Hidden City populace. Colours and skin and fur all mesh into an ever-changing sea that whirls around him in a tempest storm. Where was Raphie? Where was Don?

“Donnie?” He tried to call out, hoping the tech whiz had some sort of tracking device implanted on him without his consent. It was fine, as long as it saved him. “Raphie?” The Big Raph was always attentive, he came running anytime any of the brothers uttered the smallest ‘ow’ under their breath when they stubbed their toe or something. 

Mikey was overwhelmed, but not in a good way. Not this time. He spun around, searching frantically before he felt a warm hand on his arm. He started to be pulled and he thanked whatever higher power or ancestors that decided to smile down upon him. He was led by the arm away from the crowd, sequestered away into a dark alleyway. Before Mikey could question why they had brought him there, he was wrapped into the tightest hug he had ever received. It was warm and comforting. But something was off. He counted the breaths around him, the arms holding onto him desperately, as if for dear life. One breath, two, three, four… wait no, that can’t be right. He must’ve counted either Raphie’s or Donnie’s breaths twice. Arms: One pair, two, pairs… three pairs all around him. The next he noticed were eyes, teary and bloodshot yet bright with intense emotion.

Blue. Brown. Green.

Blue. Purple. Red. 

Chapter Text

Mikey felt hands holding his cheeks more than he saw the brother they were attached to.

“Otouto…” He hears Leonardo’s voice right against his forehead, cracking with the emotions between them. “We-We found you. We finally found you.” He sounded as if on the verge of tears and he felt the eldest’s hands tremble. Mikey’s attention was grabbed by a different voice.

“I’m so sorry, Mikey. You were stuck in a different dimension without us again. Are you okay?” Mikey nearly gasps at the state of Donatello, seeing the bruises littered his body as well as the bandages wound around his limbs. Donnie was crying, immediately looking over Mikey’s form and examining him for wounds or injuries.

Mikey felt himself looking up at them, as if he were still having to account for the frankly ridiculous height differences between him and his brothers. He felt small, smaller than usual, which surprised him. Even without Raphie looming over him or Leon leaning an elbow on his head, he felt the same height as a little bug crawling about on the pavement. Raphael would probably squish him if that were the case. Mikey’s throat was dry, sapping out any possibility of talking.

Donnie lets out a dental click. “You look thin, Mikey.” He notes, his brown eyes downtrodden. Mike looks down at himself, wondering what the hell Donnie was talking about. He still ate the same as he used to, and he thinks he looks the same. His eyes wash back over his older brothers, soaking in their appearances. Leo looked roughly the same since he last contacted him with astral projection, but he never got to see Don or Raph. Donnie looked beyond tired, burnt out and every movement he made seemed shaky. Mikey was very conscious of the complete and utter silence from the red older brother.

“Dudes.” He finally manages to croak out, sounding soft and his voice cracks.

“We’re here, Mikey. Don’t worry, big brothers have you now.” Donnie won’t let go, pulling Michelangelo’s head and tucking it under his chin. Mikey finally realises how much bigger they had grown in his absence. Their skin is no longer soft and gentle. Rough scales scraped against him, like sandpaper. They all tower above him now, even Raph growing a few inches taller. Forever the littlest brother. The runt. Despite this, Mikey can see the despair they swam in. The usually calm waters of Leo’s eyes swirling with salty tears. 

“What happened to you?” Is all he can whisper. The injuries between Raph and Donnie tells him that they had fought something. There was a battle that he had missed. Raph had a patched-up gash along his arm. He hears Leo suck in a quick breath between his teeth. 

“It’s… complicated. But we’re okay now.” Before he can speak further, Raph jutted in, speaking for the first time. His voice is gravelly and rough.

“Yeah, we got ya back and now we can go back home, and everything can go back to how it should be.” He leaves no room for argument. No possibility that this wasn’t going to happen. Mikey’s eyes widened. He takes in everything, his older brothers looking at him with a specific look of desperation. Their greens look murky, darker and slightly cracked along the scales. They looked like poor reflections of themselves from his absence.

They need him.

They need him to be there, be their sun. He needed to be Mikey again, he needed to be with them. Miguel was sunny and optimistic, just as he used to be. Just be like him and his brothers will be back to okay.

“Time to go home.” Leo says, rubbing a hand over Mikey’s head comfortingly.

Mikey’s home was here. He felt as if he belonged with his brothers, snoozing in the hammock with Angelo or eating ice cream with Raphie. He should be player two with Donnie as he plays video games or reading comics with Leon. That was his life, that’s where he felt like he truly belonged. Yet, his older brothers pulled at him, urging him back with them.

They need him. He needs to go.

Mikey had left a void behind him in his wake, that only Mikey could fill. He can heal their wounds, hold them in their weakness. He saw the broken family surrounding him and came to a conclusion. He shattered them. They were okay, they had been okay, then he left and now they were obviously not okay. All he wanted was to make them okay again. He was Michelangelo Hamato and he loved his brothers more than anything. 

Even himself.

He was better now. He had a pretty bad rough patch and was even ashamed of his behaviour during that time. But he was better now. He felt like shit before, but working with Angelo and his family, he managed to gain progress. He felt better now. He knows that Angelo would say something along the lines of ‘ Just because you feel better doesn’t mean that it's alright. It just means that it’s less bad than it was.’ 

Mikey says nothing as they pull him up to a rooftop. He can’t manage a word as Donnie fiddles with the teleporter to get them back to their dimension. The machine hums to life, spitting a swirling magenta portal into the air in front of them. Raph’s hand stays attached to Mikey’s arm. He never let him go, almost bruising in force, yet still mindful to be cautious and gentle. Mikey followed mindlessly. Why? He was going to be back to being miserable. He finally found happiness, or at least the closest equivalent as he could achieve and now, he was going to throw it all away. What if it’s different? What if they’ll hug you and kiss you now? What if they can work together to be better? Mikey considered the thought. Maybe he wouldn’t be miserable, maybe he could be there for them, and they treat him with the softness and care he needed. 

He’s pulled from his haze with a shout.

“Mikey! Hey…” He froze.

“Little man! Woah.” Raphie and Donnie flipped over the edge of the rooftop and landed next to the rest of the turtles. Once they caught sight of each other, it seemed to click. Raphael’s grip on Mikey’s arm tightened and he glared up at the much larger version of himself. Donnie looked on curiously at himself.

Donald raised a sharpie eyebrow at him. “What the hell happened to these guys? You guys look like shit. Eh, whatever.” Donnie shrugs, pulling his titanium staff from it’s holder.

“Hey, Donnie.” Leo says, trying to retain some semblance of peace between them. “There’s no need for that.” He holds out a hand to hopefully dissuade his alternate purple brother to put his weapon away. Raph is still glaring up at Raphie while the larger is busy looking very concerned at Raph’s hand around Mikey’s arm. 

“No can-do, Nardo. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a few months now.” Donnie cracks his neck while he readies his finger near the button on his staff. Leo looks a bit bug-eyed.

“Huh?” Is all he can mutter before Donnie presses down on the button. The machine whirs to life, extending his staff with intricate technology and purple surges of power. Its end starts to build, self-constructing at the edge before gaining the shape of a comically large hammer. Donatello watches it with mouth sightly agape.

“Oh, this is gonna be good!” Don waves the hammer above his head, a fire being lit behind it like a rocket. Michelangelo’s brothers seem to be between shock and panic. The tip of the hammer sharpens to a point, spikes spinning around it menacingly. The fire casts a deep red shadow along the side of Donnie’s face as he grins maniacally. He goes to swing the hammer, Leonardo finally jumping into action. He dodges with incredibly quick feet as Don shears bricks from the corner of the building, sending debris toppling down to the street below. They all seem to jump into action. Donnie swings his staff out of its holder, Raph finally releasing Mikey from his hold.

“These guys are fucking crazy.” He says, sharpening his deadly sais against each other. Donnie is quick to hold onto Mikey again, as if he lets him stand without touching him to feel he’s real, Mikey will disappear again, floating on the wind like discarded autumn leaves. Raphie doesn’t seem to be too worried as Raphael approaches him, eyes focused on Mikey.

“Hey, Little man.” He tries before Raph shouts.

“Don’t talk ta him, just fight me!” Raphael’s eyes white out in rage and concentration and he runs towards his larger counterpart. Raph notices the injuries sustained on his body and can’t find it in him to make anything worse. He remains in a completely relaxed stance. Once Raph closes in, he gets a solid base before grabbing Raphael by the back of his shell and tossing him into the portal with ease. Donnie swings with the hammer again, singeing the edges of Leonardo’s mask with his attacks. The eldest ducks just in time.

“Look, we’re just getting our baby brother and then we’ll be gone, Don! You’re making this a bit difficult.” He manages between ducks, dodges and rolls.

“That’s the point. Glad to know I’m succeeding.” Donnie replies, seemingly dead set on destruction. 

“Leo!” Donatello calls out, he holds Mikey’s arm, just as Raphael had and starts pulling him to the portal. “It’ll close soon, we have to get through it or we’ll be stuck for a few hours.” Leo falls back to follow them. All Mikey can see after a moment is the magenta light obscuring his eyes. He can just make out the looks on Donnie’s and Raphie’s face as he’s swallowed into the closing portal and transported back. 

Chapter Text

This is where he was meant to be. He was surrounded by his family, the familiar calloused hands, and slight must from the sitting water of the sewers. Their family portrait hung on the lowest bough of the tree planted in the dojo so that every training session could be under the expectant eyes of their sensei. Forever over-analyzing every landing, kick form, and balance from his perch in the picture frame. Mikey was back, secure in the arms of his older brothers. He was home. 

What was he even saying? Every positive thought fought to surface as he lay motionless, staring at the ceiling. 

But it just felt numbing; a drab, draughty old subway station that smelled like shit. Three months had passed by. Every day is just as gruelling and draining as the last. Staring at the same four walls as he had his entire childhood left him lost for words to describe the feeling of hopelessness. Grey, black, what was that ? Looks like a suspicious mildewy green that should have been cleaned years ago.

Mikey blinked, his eyelids feeling wet against his lower eyelashes. Had he been crying? He couldn’t even remember if he had been, moments and seconds of his days melded together into a blurring mush of nothingness. He raised a hand slowly to rub at his eyes, his fingers retreating with a gross white, filmy substance that looked like snot. Eye snot. Ew, gross. How had he ever convinced himself that things would be different? That they would be different? Donnie was in his lab more often than not, and Raph was probably punching something or out with Casey. Leo was in the dojo, trying to be closer to Sensei’s spirit.

Practically strangers bumping shoulders in the halls or the common room with dreariness floating through their conversations. He wanted to stop thinking about how he had hope in the beginning. He got about a week. They played games, joked, hugged, and treated each other as normal siblings. He had an entire seven days where he thought things had been brighter, even in their cement hole under the ground. Now he felt the cold stone closing in, suffocating him in the depressing box under the dirt. He dropped his hands to his chest, and they landed with a soft plop against his plastron. Just put a tombstone over him now. He was practically lying in his grave. 

In the three months, he was officially back longer than he had been away. Yet that time spent with Miguel, Leon, Don, and Raphie felt so short. It was the one small spark of sweetness among the bitterness of dark coffee that emanated from the kitchen. Mikey scrunched his snout. Even from here, with his bedroom door closed, he could smell Donnie’s coffee brewing; the familiar smell swirled his usually iron stomach. Everything felt so gross, coating his mouth with a layer of filth on his tongue and a film of acid in the back of his throat. 

He wanted to throw up, maybe give himself a real reason to deep scrub his bedroom. 

What is stopping him from getting up and doing it anyway?

Apathy mostly. He couldn't be bothered to do anything that would help him feel better about the situation. 

What if Miguel saw this room of yours?

Mikey’s breath seemed to be still. What if they came for him? He silently hoped they would. At least make contact so he could see them. But what if it really was a dream? Just some sort of depression-fueled hallucinating daydream. He seemed to be having more of those, slightly rocking back and forth while staring at the space between the atoms of the air or the specks of dust that hung in the stagnant air like bubbles underwater. He felt like he could see entire galaxies and dimensions in them like tiny snow globes floating around that swirled with puffs of bright confetti. He hoped they would come to see him.

He shifted again as his stomach surged, his body physically reacting to the smell in the air. 

Okay, like actually what the fuck is happening?

He staggered up, a hand low on his abdomen, and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. His eyes landed forward, dragging from the ceiling now to the floor of his bedroom. The dark grey was only covered with layers of spoiled pizza boxes, previously white underwear with questionable stains, and… what even was that? The air felt thick and he jumped up, heaving it in as if he were drowning. He was always messy, wanting to fill any void with clutter, trash, and bright decals, whatever he could do to soften the gloomy, cold coffin he slept in. 

He was so sick of it. 

Mikey stood up, taking a conscious step forward. He wanted nothing more than to collapse back onto his bed and sleep for a while longer. But, once he got down, he wouldn’t move for hours, and he still felt his chest lurch with need. He turned to his shelves and desk, filled with action figures, stacks of drawing notebooks, comic books, canvases, crayons, and anything he could care for. He could tell when his brothers started turning in for bed, the soft padding of tired feet along the stone into their bedrooms. 

Mikey listened quietly, calming his movements to be as quiet as possible. He didn’t want to disturb anyone after all. He organised and organised, looking through every page of each comic and book. He checked for damage, bubblegum between the pages, corrosion on his action figures, or splitting wood in his pencils. The paint rubbing off for some of his oldest toys. He wiped everything with care before putting them all back on the shelf.

Before Mikey could question what he was doing, he was out, holding his breath as he passed the kitchen and grabbed an entire roll of trash bags. He was back in his room with stealth that Sensei would be proud of. He unrolled a bag from it, flapping it up and down to open it more. Without much more, he sat down and started squashing fistfuls of junk into it. He didn’t put on gloves; no mask or safeguard between him and the unknown under his feet. He couldn’t bring himself to care about whatever was evolving in the cardboard. He quickly filled the first bag, tying it off and opening a second. His skin gleamed with a layer of sweat, his breath huffing as he jammed each fistful into the bag with ferocity.

He didn’t scrutinise anything in the trash, not trusting himself to not get distracted by each old drawing he found. There wasn’t a drop of nostalgia in him as he saw old papers with crude crayon drawings of his family. He cared for them once; before they were so loved they got buried under everything else he loved. They were imbued with growing yellow mould and stained with age. Drawings of Leo; bright, pink juice dribbled onto the edges of the paper. Donnie, splotches of growing fungus crawling up the pages and feeding off the wax of the crayons. Raph, the page haphazardly taped back together where it was torn in half. 

He slowly revealed the blacktop of his bedroom floor, the cracks, and scrapes looking like bright lightning in a cloudy thunderstorm. He left again, turning on his heel before returning seemingly just as quickly, holding bottles of cleaning supplies. No idea what they did, but he needed the stains to be gone, the smell to be gone. He needed the taste off his tongue. 

Mikey dropped to his knees, his joints letting out cracks of protest as they hit the concrete without his knee pads. He grabbed a bottle and a rag and went to work scrubbing at the spot on the floor. His sweat got worse, yet the smell of coffee was drowned out by the intense smell of orange disinfectant. He pressed on, his arm was sore, and his lungs stung. The foam that flung off his cloth was a deep brown colour, bringing a strange sense of satisfaction. He never enjoyed cleaning. He scoured, moving inch by inch as he felt his current strip was finished. He could have mopped. He could have let the cleaner sit; he could have made it easier for himself. But he needed this. He needed to move until he couldn’t anymore, needed to control something. Tears started to pool from his eyes, mingling with the droplets of sweat as it dripped from his forehead down to the floor, leaving circular splotches in the foaming cleaner.  He stood up, the floor now a good few shades lighter than it had started. 

Next, he stripped his bed, moving the frame to the middle of the floor and working on the ceiling. The spray sprinkled over his skin every time he used it, covering him in little uncomfortable spots all over his head, shoulders, and arms. The green spot that he slept under slowly came off, replaced with the same pasty colourlessness. His bright baby blue eyes stayed narrowed as he looked around his room, filled with nothing more than the bags of trash piled on the floor. 

He found himself only breathing once every 15 minutes, holding it for as long as his lungs allowed him to. Mikey turned, sucking in another breath and not sensing a lick of coffee, the sole scent of citrus assaulting his snout. 

He changed the sheets of his bed and then stared down at the soft pattern of his blanket. 

What would Miguel say to do next? Do something he found joy in? 

Well, he knew that Don would tell him to shower, the only thing that smelled horrible to him in this room now was him. He walked mindlessly to their shared bathroom. It was an old subway station, so it didn’t have a shower. But with four boys all living in the sewers, it didn’t take long for Sensei to drag a mostly intact bathtub to the lair for them all to bathe in. 

Mikey ran the sink, feeling the water rush between his fingers. He felt it run warm, then hot, steam quickly filling the room. He could barely feel the blistering heat along his scales. He poured bucket full after bucket into the tub before stripping what he wore and dipping in. 

He sat there for much longer than he usually would, basking in the warm water and letting his thoughts flow out of him like the water from the faucet. 

They were coming. They were real. 

If he closed his eyes, he was right back. It felt so… real. It was almost like he could feel the warm arms of Raphie around him and the slightly chapped lips of Leon as he kissed his forehead covertly. It scared him, the thought, the even possibility, that he dreamt it all. What if he was back for longer than he thought? It could explain why his time in Miguel’s dimension felt so far away, tracing the edges of his memory and stuck behind a wall of glass. 

Mikey cleaned himself, rubbing his skin raw until he felt he was clean, and he carried the scent of fresh on every inch of him. No coffee or mould or sewage. He ran a hand over his shoulder, his skin tingling in memory of the healed scars. The divots and slight discoloration looked close to the freckles that covered him. He felt his eyes sting again as he nearly choked out a sob. Yet he held in. He cried so often. 

He was so sick of it. 

But he was just a crybaby, and it was a part of him to cry. Just like it was a part of Donnie to be intelligent or a part of Raph to be angry. He cried when he was happy, cried when he was sad. He cried for no real reason it seemed, just that he remembered something he pushed away for so long. His head sunk back to the back of the tub, landing on the lip and starting to slide down. His head went under the surface of the water, his eyes slipping closed as he felt the air bubbles shift and float to the top, dancing along his stinging skin as they rose. It reminded him that he should join them to the surface soon. 

But what if he didn’t? 

He stayed down for a tad longer, the water starting to turn cold. He felt Raphie’s arms unfurling from him, the chill settling along his body. The warmth withdraws, leaving him with a sense of loneliness. Even surrounded by who had been his life for as long as he had ever known, he was alone. He had a taste of orange between the coffee, colour breathed back into him and his little grey, glass snow globe. 

Just stay down.

He jerked up, gasping and flailing with outreached arms and a burning need for air in his lungs. His fingers gripped the edge of the tub. He breathed in the air, water sloshed from the side and dripped across the bathroom floor in a considerable puddle. That’s enough bath time, Mikey decides, standing up to step out. He stepped out on the floor with shaking, unstable legs. He turned to drain the tub, feeling numbness settle in his gut. 

But it seemed that his luck had other plans for him, all years of ninja training leaving his body in that moment. His mind was somewhere else, distracted and weighed down. His footing gave in, slipping on the pool under him and sending Mikey crashing forward to the concrete. He catches himself with outstretched hands. It takes a second for his mind to catch up to the blooming ache in his hands and arms. He moves and sees the blooming pinpricks of blood red forming along his forearms. He decided that falling on concrete wasn’t fun and actually hurt like a bitch. 

What the fuck was that? 

Guess trying to drown himself, chickening out, and then falling to the floor is just his reality. 

How pathetic. 

We have been over this before. Not too long ago, yet Mikey just couldn’t seem to get it through his head. Suicide won't get him anywhere really and is a very permanent solution to his temporary problems. But fuck did his crises feel eternal in the moment. He slowly and more carefully this time, shuffled his way to the sink to swab up the droplets of blood dripping down his arms. His injuries weren’t bad at all, inconsequential scrapes that would heal within a few days. But he still dreaded the days of scabs. He had half a mind to let them bleed and just go to bed, but that would defeat the purpose of his bath entirely. So, he stood at the sink, rubbing alcohol along his scrapes, barely hissing at the sensation. The smell was weirdly calming, a safe reminder to ground him to the earth. His mind conjured the image of alcohol-soaked cloth Leon had used on him before to clean his wounds and could only passively make the connection in the awkward comfort. 

In the middle of his ministrations, he froze. His blue eyes stuck on a flourish of colour against his lime-green skin. The bright yellow, pink, and orange flaking off in small patches along his skin. He followed the trail to the hand holding the cloth, his fingernails chipped almost beyond recognition, yet the nail polish still held strong in some spots. 

When did he paint his nails? When did he even get nails?

Leo didn’t have nails, and neither did Raph or Donnie. Miguel had nails and liked to keep his painted. He also painted Don’s a lot to spend time together. His brow scrunched in confusion. He had never had nails, yet here they were, very real and brightly coloured. How they got painted, he couldn’t remember, but his chest soared.

It was all real. He wasn’t crazy and hallucinated a beautiful family just for him to slot into. They were real and painted him in their colourful glory. They let him in their snow globe, tucking him into bed with the smell of cleaning alcohol, nail polish, and sweet orange soda (or excessive energy drinks in Don’s case).

He yearned for it again, wanting to feel soft hands holding him as he slept or soft mutterings of just how proud they were of him. He loved his family, loved them more than anything, but just not more than he loved to be held. 

Chapter Text

They had reconciled from their bickering earlier that day, lounging across each other.

“When are Don, Raph, and Angel gonna be baaack?” Leon asked dramatically, lying further against Miguel. The latter blew air out of his mouth in annoyance. Their shells were pressed together, and the older one splayed out over his brother. 

“They’re at Señor Hueso’s, Lee.” He says, trying to remain calm as he is crushed under the weight of the larger turtle. “They are getting pizza and will be back soon.” He says a little out of breath as the weight gets progressively more and more unbearable. “Now, can you please get your ass off of me?” Leon completely ignores his question with a pointed stare down at him before throwing his head back again with dramatic flair. 

“But I am starving now!” He shouts in mock outrage. He whines like an inconvenienced toddler with a temperamental behaviour problem. Angelo lets out a groan in response, trying to wiggle out from underneath the giant lump stuck to his shell. He huffs at the effort.

“Oh, I'll take it back. Please get your fat ass off of me!?” Miguel started to snarl at the end, trying to buck off his brother like a bronco. Nardo starts squealing and it doesn’t take long before they both turn to each other, plastron against plastron. They wrestle, biting back insults and giggling through half-meant verbal jabs. It ends with Leon in a soft headlock, gnawing at Miguel’s arm with sloppy teething. Angelo lets out a theatrical cry but keeps Lee’s head in the crook of his arm. It wasn’t anything harmful, just playful biting. They both take in a breath, sighing out in content. They lean against each other again, shell to shell with flashing smiles.

“Little shit, affectionate,” Leon mutters with a giggle, adding the tone meant to be conveyed through his words. 

“Jackass, loving,” Angelo answers, catching his breath from their entanglement. Soon, silence falls over them, wrapping them in its soft embrace. It wasn’t uncomfortable, scary, or lonesome. Just them. And it was enough, at least for a few seconds or so. 

“But, like, seriously, where are they? They’ve been gone for hours and I’m literally so hungry. I’m also worried.” Leon then deadpanned, pulling out his phone and tapping on Raph’s contact. 

“We probably should check in, I’m a little worried too,” Miguel added in, turning to look over Leon’s shoulder and watch him type out a message to Raph. “Way too casual, Lee. You wanna show that you are worried and not only that you care about the food.” The younger turtle commented as Leon deleted the words, biting his lip in concentration. He typed out a new version, the taps and pleasant sounds of the digital keyboard clicking gently in the quiet air. “Okay, way too overbearing now. You wanna show you’re worried, but not overwhelmingly so.” The orange one tacked on, yawning as he non-committedly gave his advice. 

Leon let out a huff before deleting the second message. He showed the final draft to his younger brother, who then gave it a nod of endorsement. With a sigh of relief, Leon sent the message, the text box turning a blue colour to show that it had been received. 

They both jumped practically out of their shells as the door swung open with a heavy thud. Incomprehensible garbles and shouting arrived to shatter the fragile quietness. Donald trudged into the room, muttering with his hands twitching to latch onto something. 

“He’s gone!  He’s gone, he’sgonehe’sgonehe’sgone.” Raph was immediately chanting as they entered the lair, Leon and Angelo bolted up from their seats. 

“What?!” They shriek in unison, fumbling over each other in their haste.

“Oh, they… OH! Them. ” Don practically growled, still holding his mechanised bo staff in stiff hands. His knuckles were nearly lime in his effort to grip the piece of titanium alloy. “I should have put a tracker on him, god Dammit! ” Don’s mechanised arms of his battle shell slapped the boxes of leftover pizza onto the table, gritting his teeth with a crazed look in his eyes. 

“Woah, hey, hey. D-Did something happen to Mikey? We cannot understand what happened if you guys are both freaking out.” Miguel stammered out, both of his arms out in front of him to placate his brothers as they panicked. Raph took a calming breath as Don tried to copy him, inhaling, yet he still visibly fumed.

“We were out, and somewhere in the crowd, his brothers somehow came from their dimension and pulled him away when we turned our shells for five seconds. We needed to hunt him down and they were pulling him away.” Raph started to recollect, his fingers twitching in agitation. “I was gonna try to get Little Man, but his Raph and Donnie were holding onto his arm with a vice grip.” He continued trying to mumble, but Don was still going mindlessly feral in the background. 

This was not good. This was not good. Mikey was gone? Like gone, gone. He was taken by his brothers. Don and Raph had fought them, seeing what they looked like, and ran back to the lair with haggard breaths. Leon opened his mouth before Don had cut him off.

“If only the mystic tech merchant that promised me my quantum lithium 10k Ultra HD Technicolour blast Graphics cards actually had prime time shipping so I wouldn’t have had to go to his booth to pick them up. We lost Mike in the crowd on our way from Hueso’s to the merchant and that’s where they must have snatched him. Based off of their rather dreadful appearances, a general absence of alacrity, and our base walking speed at an estimated 8 kilometres an hour, with the area of abduction being 0.3 kilometres from our location, he was pro-”

“Don, Don! You’re spiralling. Remember; breathing is necessary to live.” Miguel interrupts him, reminding him with worry creasing his soft, brown eyes. Donald is stupified, rubbing at his temples, now with his hands free and losing tension in his joints. He no longer resembled a cat on the verge of pouncing on unwitting and annoying prey. 

“I could have saved him.” He finally landed on his thought, defeated, and finally put his bo staff away. His shoulders sagged with the collective weight of his trauma. “I was right there, and I just saw Mikey being taken through that portal and I was losing a brother to the prison dimension all over again.” 

They all looked at him with soft eyes, guilt swimming in Leon’s deep blues. Don gags at the reaction. “Ugh, ew, family bonding. I am over it. I have a need to tear each of them down atom from atom and reconstruct their dumb brains in perfusion fluid.” 

“Yeeeeah, about that Don. Probably don’t,” Leon chuckles. 

Chapter Text

Cold. Everything was cold. The draft from topside settled down into the sewers; stagnant water and dripping moisture freezing over in the biting winter months. He sat in the dojo, the leaves usually surrounding the healthy boughs were gone, leaving frosted bark and dreary wishes for warmer weather. The walls are frostbitten. Sheets of ice reach towards the centre of the room and a chandelier of icicles hanging down from the grate up above. Steady snowflakes flutter down from the serenity upwards. He breathes out, a steady plume of fog expanding from his lungs and dissipating into the algid atmosphere. He breathed in, his lungs set alight as the cold rushed in to fill him. The bitter cold stuck to him, lightly dusting him with snowflakes that spatter his skin like freckles. 

Leonardo opened his eyes. His meditation was going fucking nowhere, and he couldn’t sit and pretend for any longer. As he moved to stand, his skin felt uncomfortably tight, his bones and muscles screaming in protesting agony. He breathes out again, the warm air puffing out again like a seething dragon. He exited the dojo to the centre space. The heart of their lair slowed in its beating, nearly to a stop. He mechanically walked down the stairs; the concrete was glacial against the bottoms of his bare feet. 

Winter had never once felt like this. Every year that passed by never bit like this. It had never stung and stuck to his skin like this . It was never the best part of the year. Leonardo had every reason that this should be the time where he was overjoyed. The cold allowed him to cuddle up with a good book and a cup of hot tea without sweating through his shell. The cold meant slightly less crime, the ice fought off some of the smell that permeated the sewers, the holidays meant the time for gift giving and family. 

Family. Everything was about family. It was the thing that Leonardo always fought so hard for. But staring at the vast empty room he stood in, the picture-perfect family he defended for so long started to shatter. Splintered into millions of tiny pieces that he could only pick back up piece by piece. He was the oldest, they were his responsibility now. And within a few months of him being the head of their household, Mikey was transported from them. Under his watch, Raphael and Donatello worked themselves to the bone to get Mikey back. He watched Donatello stay up night after night. His chocolate eyes always held warmth, but then they burned with intensity. But now all of Donnie's machines and inventions were still and silent. Tarps and sheets draped over them; they sat cold in disuse. All of the time Donatello used to spend in his lab, he now spent in his room. 

Even just thinking about it, Leonardo start walking mindlessly to his purple brother’s room. He softly knocks on the door, the gentle rapping echoes through his head. His only response is silence, as usual. Donatello was usually sleeping nowadays, not even having the energy to drag himself out of bed most days. It was an obvious cry for help, a red flag stuck into the building pile of responsibilities on Leonardo’s shoulders. But every time he thought he could answer, Leonardo paused. His hand on the doorknob, the metal burning cold in his hand. He feared he would walk in and see the fire put out from Donatello’s eyes. He feared he would collapse in on himself and see the ice reflecting nothing but Leonardo’s own visage back to him. If Leonardo goes in there, he will break down. He would join Donatello in his bed, and they would freeze there together until the end of time. 

Leonardo had long since stopped sleeping in his bed in order to avoid this. The fear wracked his mind that if he ever slipped into the warm covers, he’d never be strong enough to leave. His hand drops from the doorknob, the call for help coming from within him and ringing through his ears. His voice mixed with Donatello’s, nearly identical in their pleas. 

He moved from the door, trying to silence the cries. He wanted to turn around, to run back to Donatello, curl up under the covers with him and hold him. Yet his mind stopped him, he couldn’t get himself to turn back, the fear pulling at his limbs like a marionette puppet. 

He crossed by Raphael’s room, not even bothering to knock on his door. Since they got Mikey back, the second oldest rarely has been home, always out with Casey or on his own. Leonardo wondered if that was another of his responsibilities to stack on the pile. But it was no wonder Raphael was gone so often; he would rather be out doing God knows what instead of being home and dealing with this bitter family. He stuck yet another flag onto his pile. Yet another problem for him to fix. He kept on, one foot in front of another. 

He paused in his path, taking a look to his left. He shivered. It felt like all the cold, the frost and ice all started from here. He looked at Mikey’s cracked door. Mikey always had his door open, completely open to anyone and everyone to venture into his trash jungle and talk with him for a while, as long as they could stand his room. Well, Mikey used to always have his door open. Leonardo was frozen right in front of his room, staring at the mostly closed door.

“Hey Mikey?” He called out, his voice sounded scratchy and echoed as if he was asking from down the hallway. “Can I come in?” Leonardo continued. He was hopeful, even as the waves of cold draft flowed out from behind Mikey’s door. He’s met with deafening silence. Yet the rime eats away at his bones. Leonardo needed warmth; he needed to feel sunlight on his skin. He needed his brother to melt away the covering of verglas that had encompassed him. 

He pushed at the door, opening it to see his sunshine. He stumbles over his feet for a moment, having to duck into the shorter doorway. Before him, he can actually see the floor, he can still feel the cold concrete under his feet. Leonardo can’t find a single piece of trash in Mikey’s room, the shelves organised and bed made. It was striking, an unexpected sight. He finds Mikey sitting at his desk, earbuds pumping loud music directly into his little brother’s head. Leonardo could hear the harsh beats from the door.

“Mikey.” He tries again, still failing to grab his attention over the deafening music. Stop turning your music up so loud, Mikey, you’re going to give yourself hearing loss. Leonardo can hear in Donatello’s light voice. Leonardo shook his head, leaving the issue alone. It seemed so small with everything else he had on his mind. Leonardo used his height to look over his youngest brother’s shoulder, catching the sight of pens and pencils strewn about the desk, a few scattered papers scribbled with failed attempts. Leonardo pauses, anxious even his breath could alert Mikey, he holds his breath. Mikey worried a trench into his paper as he went over the same line in his drawing over and over again. It never got any darker. 

Leonardo looked around, trying to find something. He needed to see what Mikey was drawing, trying to not let guilt burrow into his skin. How could he forget that Mikey liked to draw? When was the last time he even asked to see his art? He always made sure to try and connect with his brothers about their interests, Donatello’s science, Raphael’s pets and sports. But somehow Mikey’s artistic talents fell through the cracks. 

Leonardo took a hold of a small eraser, used down to the last of its life. He paused as he looked at it, a glint in his deep blue eyes. Before a second thought, he tossed it to land on Mikey’s desk. The youngest jumped slightly before turning in his chair. He pulled the left earbud from his head, looking up at Leonardo. Mikey’s mask was down around his neck, his face bare. Leonardo froze as he gazed into Mikey’s eyes. The eyes that used to hold so much boisterous energy and bubbly laughter looked up at him with something akin to disinterest. It suddenly hits Leonardo, a stab to the gut from Shredder’s Tekkō-kagi. The Mikey they got back from the alternate dimension wasn’t their Mikey. He wasn’t the Mikey he remembered so fondly. Their Mikey would never have let the lair get this cold.

“Leo?” Mikey asks, his voice soft in whisper. “Did you need something?” He continues, stuck in the staring contest between them.

“What are you drawing?” Leonardo blurts out, stumping the younger.

“You can’t have come in here for that, Leo, why-”

“I want to know. I want to hear you talk all about it.” Leonardo insisted. Mikey’s foot taps on the floor from where he sat. His eyebrow ridges creased together but he twirled around again.

“Okay, if you want, I guess.” Their Mikey never would have been this unsure of himself. It cut Leonardo deeper as he tried to bring forth the last time Mikey had sought him out to show him his latest art piece. He looked over Mikey’s shoulder, tucking a little closer than he normally would, close to a hug as he looked over at the paper covered in pen and graphite. It was a bit muddy, but every stroke was looking painstakingly placed. It looked like a city, even without colour, he could see the brightness from all of the bright lights. Mikey was never one for drawing architecture, always preferring to draw natural shapes instead of sharp angles. Yet it tugged at Leonardo’s memory. The city they found him in, the bright signs and flickering lights were nearly overwhelming with the colours.

“Do you miss it there?” Leonardo asks, the words flowing from him without him able to stop them. His lungs burn from the frigid air around them. “All the colours, the lights and sounds.” He continues while Mikey whips his head to look at his face. He can feel the youngest trying to pick apart the feelings hidden behind each of Leonardo’s words. Mikey can’t even respond, but he sputters out.

“Leo?” Mikey feels his anxiety spike as Leo reads directly into it. He hadn’t expected Leonardo to be able to tell exactly what he had drawn. “I-I’m home… I’m home now.” He says, spreading a lie across his tongue and hoping Leonardo doesn’t notice. 

 “I don’t blame you. I can’t blame Donnie for not wanting to leave his room, or Raph for never wanting to come home.” Leonardo sighs, letting his head fall as his breathing stutters. Mikey finally feels how cold Leo’s hand feels on his skin. “You told me, you fucking told me that you didn’t want to come back. I’m guessing you were happy where you were. And if I loved you more maybe I wouldn’t have helped drag you back… But I’m selfish, Mikey, you have to understand. I need you; I need you to be here and look at me with understanding every single time I fuck up. I need you here to make dumb jokes and cook foul food for us because it shows you care.” 

Mikey’s eyes go wide as Leo just keeps going. And he swore. He swore twice. 

“I tried so hard for so long to be exactly like Sensei when I needed to be more like you. I haven’t been showing that I care for so long, I’ve been so preoccupied with trying to fix everything because it felt like we needed to be fixed, like we were all broken. But now we are broken. And I can’t fix myself enough to be helpful to anyone.” 

Leo’s vision in Mikey’s mind cracks. Silently, he wrapped his arms around his eldest brother. It felt surreal, holding Leo in his arms as he shook. But it felt strangely right. Leo held him just the same, contorted a bit uncomfortably to fit his lankier body around Mikey’s short build. They stay in comfortable silence, Mikey’s earbuds left forgotten on his desk and finally a spark of warmth in the room. 

“I kinda just walked in here and poured all of my issues on you. Sorry Mike.” Leo started, chuckling dryly.

“I don’t want to hear any apologies for needing comfort and support.” Mikey smiles, his dimples creased in his cheeks and Leonardo could finally feel the sun’s golden rays on his face at the sight. Mikey raised his hands to pull down Leo’s mask, pooling it around his neck like his own. Leo grabbed his hand, deep blue eyes roving over his hands smeared with ink and pencil lead. But his eyes narrow.

“How do you have fingernails?” 

Chapter Text

There’s something disconcerting about waking up. The air was cold, yet his blanket stuck to him. His room was dark, yet it still felt incredibly too bright. He hadn’t eaten in some time, yet he could only taste acid on his tongue. He groaned, mumbling quietly as he forced his body to move; finding the discomfort of getting up to be less than the discomfort of rotting away in bed. That was the word to perfectly describe him; rotting. His body decomposes while his mind stayed frustratingly active.

His mind still whizzed with thoughts. But he had no energy to act. Donatello didn’t have the energy to feed himself, let alone do anything he found joy in. Was it even joyous anymore? Had years of needing to make things, needing to provide, finally caught up to him? The short answer was yes. But the long answer? Donnie didn’t even want to think about the long answer. He staggers onto his feet, swaying as his head buzzes. He can hear whispers from down the hall, wondering if they were even real.

Coffee will help.

He shuffles out into the lair, spurred on by caffeine and caffeine alone. Donatello is draped in his blanket, still feeling the ugly brown fleece sticking to his scales. His eyes squinted from the somehow brighter lair. The light filtering through the grates above somehow attacked his eyes. Hushed voices still floated into his ears, and he swatted at the air.

The kitchen was as drab and grey as he remembered, his brown eyes slowly getting accustomed to the brightness. It wasn’t even well lit, just a shift from the pure inky abyss he’s been occupying for the past few weeks. He started the coffee machine, wincing at the soft squeal it lets out after so long without use. The old thing detests him, he’s sure. Donatello had kept it on life support for years, adding upgrades and fixes to every problem it had. Eventually, he ran into an issue with the old thing's hardware. It could only be kept alive for so long before the hardware gives out. Donnie thought they were alike in that way. He could only be held up, quick fixes and switching burnt coils for new and improved ones before he either ends up with a completely new machine than what he started with, or the stupid thing gives up entirely.

Donnie opens the fridge, staring blankly at the assortment of food on the shelves. Nothing sticks out and he felt nauseous anyway. He shuts the door without grabbing anything, nearly jumping out of his shell from Leonardo’s keen eyes looking at him from the hallway.

“Jesus, Don.” He breathes out, his eyes wide and... wet? “You look dead.” He comments with much less tact than he usually has.

“Getting coffee, Leo.” Donnie responds. His voice sounds so foreign, scratchy and barely above a whisper.

“You need more than coffee, Donnie. Come on, you know this.” Another voice sounds from behind Leonardo, Donnie almost snapping to attention.

“Didn’t see you there, Mike.” He said, straightening enough for his blanket to fall to the kitchen floor in a heap. Mikey steps out, looking so small among the giants his brothers have grown to become.

“I’ve told you more than once that you need to take care of yourself.” Mikey continues, walking up and picking up the blanket with a far-off look in his eyes. Leonardo looks on from the side, witnessing the interaction with new eyes. Mikey leads his genius brother to the table, sitting him down with a huff.

“I know. You don’t need-”

“Well obviously I do need to.” Mikey says, sounding a little cold. He didn’t mean for any of his anger to seep out, but he had to recentre himself. He takes a breath. “I’m sorry. I’m not meaning to be snappy. It just... It feels like you don’t listen to a word I say about taking care of yourself. You don’t care about yourself and don’t care about anyone else that does care about you.”

Time seems to stand still, both taller brothers looking at the youngest like he had said something outlandish. In a way he did, mumbling in a foreign tone they’ve never heard from their baby.

“I’m sorry, Mikey. What?” Donnie asks, now wide awake and straightening his spine, the bones cracking and popping from the posture shift. Leonardo is left speechless.

“I’m serious, Donnie.” Mikey says, looking at them with soft yet indignant eyes.

“Yeah... that’s the problem. You’re not usually serious. Where is this coming from?” Leonardo questions, suddenly feeling even more stranded than beforehand. He thought he understood. He was finally peeling back the layers of who he considered his simplest brother to find even more he didn’t know.

“Well, yeah. This is... This is the way to healthily communicate.” Mikey says off-handedly, turning around to put a kettle on to boil. “I’m telling Donnie how his actions affect me and how they make me feel. You guys should try it sometime.” He says, cracking his neck as he focuses on meddling with the kitchen gadgets. He seemed to be forming a plan on making food for the three of them.

They look to each, both wearing matching faces of consternation. Donnie opens his mouth just to close it again, failing to form any words. Mikey himself, leaned forward on the counter. He felt their eyes on him, suddenly the nippy air felt heated around his skin under their piercing gazes. He took the kettle off the stove when it started to whistle, holding onto some noodles he settled on with a barely contained grimace. With the hot water, he swiped three mugs, Donnie’s favourite coding mug, Leo’s Space Heroes™ mug and a plain one to pour into. He drapes an herbal teabag in Leo’s. A scoop of instant coffee into Donnie’s and a final normal teabag into the plain mug.

Mikey worked on autopilot, muscle memory kicking in as he remembered just how many cream and sugar each of his brothers preferred in their drinks. It was until he got to the last, stalling as he stared down into the browning liquid in his own supposed mug. It occurred to him that he didn’t know how he liked his tea. He hadn’t ever had it enough to form a preference. If he had tea, it was to Leo’s or Sensei’s likes. He swirled in a random amount of sugar, passing on the milk altogether.

“If you guy’s keep your mouths open any longer, you’ll catch flies.” Mikey commented as he continued with his task, still feeling those eyes and knowing they were still staring at him in shock. “Which wouldn’t be hard, given we live in a sewer.” Mikey continues to grumble, he put the mugs on the table. He finally looked up to see his assumption was absolutely correct.

“Mikey, what the fuck?”

Chapter Text

“My nail polish is chipped!” Miguel exclaimed, gasping in faux horror at the missing chunks of colour from his fingernails. The air puffed out from his mouth in comic-like wisps, looking far too out of place along the black and grey landscape. 

“Not to invalidate your struggles, hermano, but I’m pretty sure we have larger issues here.” Leon adds on, pulling the zipper of his puffy jacket further up. It rides up the zipper tracks with a satisfying sound. Donnie is much too focused on the device strapped to his wrist to care about any of the trivial matters his brothers were squabbling about. 

Angelo gasps again, this time in real offence. 

“I genuinely hope you don’t think I would truly value my nail polish over looking for Mikey. It was just… I just noticed it.” Miguel says, losing all the wind in his sails. Leon also physically deflates, his eyes immediately turning sombre. 

“Miguel, I would never insinuate that.” He says, voice soft and intimate between the two of them. The now singular orange looks to him with a gentle smile, the gap between his teeth adding to his charm. 

“That’s good.” They share a side hug, the both of them starting to trail behind the others. Angelo turns to Raph and Don as they speed walk away from their brotherly bonding moment and sucks in a breath that burns his lungs. “Hey! Wait up!” 

“We will leave you two in this godforsaken trash dimension if you can’t keep up!” Don says, a certain tightness to his voice that was hard to place. 

“Don, we can’t leave them here. In… this.” Raph says, looking around the overflowing dumpsters and ratty alley cats. Don pauses for a moment to sniff the air before grimacing. A cat meows below them, echoing off the walls of the thin space between buildings. 

“Correction, I will leave all of you in the trash dimension. Oh, all of us are going to smell dreadful, especially Mikey. When we all get home I’ll hav-” Donnie stops in his track, looking below. He seemed finally aware of his surroundings for the first time since they started looking through the dark dimension. All four of them stood over the precipice of the rooftop. Below was a rusted fire escape, the bright red blotched copper with age. Separating the cracked concrete was a large grate, the few gaps allowing some lines of light through down to the sewer below. 

“Where are we going next, Don?” Raph asks, silently hoping that the brainiac knew their next move. He didn’t mention his reservations about squeezing his hulking frame into the grate below. 

“It says that he’s right here… Down there.” Donald sighs, his lips pulled tight in discontent. Still, nevertheless, Don took another step forward, using his battle shell to slow his descent to the blacktop. His robotic arm reached forward, cautiously prying the grate up from its resting place. Leon and Angelo follow behind him with Raph bringing up the rear. 

“Raphie isn’t gonna fit in there.” He mutters, scratching his bad eye in habit. Even if Raphie could theoretically fit into the space, he wouldn’t enjoy the tight squeeze. Miguel nodded in understanding. 

“I’ll stay up here with you.” He immediately offers sweetly. Leon shook his head.

“We have no idea what state we’re gonna find Mike in. We may need you there.” He says, putting his hands on his hips, sticking it out with his usual flair. Angelo met his eyes and sighed. Before he can talk again, Raph interrupts with a gentle tone.

“I’ll be okay by myself. Just make sure you bring our baby brother home, yeah?” He says, smiling with that charming snaggletooth. Donnie fully removed the sewer grate and the three of them stood around the edge with matching looks of concern. 

“We’re stalling.” Leon states softly.

“It’s going to be so gross.” Donnie adds almost immediately. 

“Our brother is down there.” Miguel says, catching the taller two with his soft brown eyes. They all nod in the silent understanding pact. 

Raph sat down on the cold pavement, snowflakes starting to float down from the heavens. The three then jumped down one by one, landing on a set of circling steel steps, the ones near the bottom snapped off somehow. They snuck around as quietly as the frozen air allowed them. The cold felt even more biting under the streets, the draft curling around their limbs even through the jackets they wore. The bright sunlight filtered down above them, casting inky shadows along the sewer floor. They felt naked, even under scarves, gloves and sweaters, it was almost like there was ice flowing through their respective veins. 

Leon took point as the leader, the other two following him through their short exploration. They crept through the hall, thankful concrete was under their feet to keep their footfalls silent. Leon stops and turns to his brothers, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder so they could all see. They were met with an abysmal looking kitchen, a dirty refrigerator, appliances a few decades out of date, and the stagnant smell of sludge still stuck in the air. But in the middle of the kitchen, a damaged shell faced towards them, deep green scales marred with scars and a blood red strip hanging from the back of his head. 

“You need to stop trying to sneak everywhere, Leo.” The turtle grumbles, his voice gruff. Leon’s eyes go wider and he turns to Don and Mikey. 

‘How does everyone know me?’ He mouths.

“And what are you even doing up?” He continued, his voice sounding wrecked, like he just spent hours previously screaming. He still had his shell turned to the three. Leon sucked in a breath to speak but he’s stopped in his tracks. “And I’m not in the mood to be chastised, if that’s what you’re about to fucking do.” 

Leon’s wide eyed gaze turns once again, now lined with bafflement. 

“I think you do need some chastising, actually. You look, smell, and sound like you’ve been gone for days. What if you were needed here? You really feel okay shirking all of your responsibilities and hiding?” 

Don said, his voice cutting through the air and echoing off the walls. The battle hardened Raphael whipped around, acidic green meeting the group in the hallway. His voice sounded deafening among the stark silence. Raphael gaped at him like a fish. 

“Shut up Donnie.” He grumbled, easily recognising his brother’s counterparts. Donnie cocked his black eyebrows, taking the statement as a challenge, a personal one at that. “What are you even doing here?” Raphael spat. His eyes looked around the space frantically yet his hackles were firmly raised. 

“Would you believe us if we said we were just visiting?” Leon asks, grinning.

Chapter Text

Snowflakes flurried down from the heavens, leaving a light dusting over Raphie’s arms and shoulders. His eyes were glued to the grate his brothers had disappeared down, intense focus on the inky abyss below. Every descending snowflake and drifting speck of dust carries the weight of the deafening silence. Raphie watches as movement bubbles just under the surface, kinetic energy simmering in the stillness. 

There was a special type of calming in the way snow stuck to his jacket and chill rushed over his scales. The anxiety that coiled through his veins seemed to still, frozen under the brisk pressure. Separation from his family always filled his gut with cement, making his head spin with worry and doubts. But the snow was a fluffy blanket that covered him. The stinging, chilly bliss somehow calms the raging storm. His brothers were strong. They were capable and fierce and driven. He shouldn’t have to worry. His thoughts would usually war with his logical thinking, suffocating him with anxiety and fear. 

They were his. It was so hard to not see the little turtletots that he raised when they look up at him. Now with Little Man, it was so hard to let him slip through his fingers, to not crush him in his beefy claws and hold them close to him. No, in a way, he needed to go. And the snow was a beautiful reminder of why. The flakes slowly accumulate along the cement, covering it in a protective blanket. It lay over the dark dreary alleyway in a pristine coating of white. 

“They should have gotten him by now.” Raphie’s own voice mingles with the falling snow. It’s quiet, like the flakes that float down from overcast skies. “Something happened.” He concludes as he continues staring down to the sewer grate that taunted him. If they truly needed him, he could squeeze himself down there. Did he want to? No. Would he in order to save his family? Absolutely. He’s done and gone through much worse for them. But still he sat in the gathering frost and waited. If they needed him they would call him.

“Raphie?” He heard and the spiked turtle popped up. The snow dusts off of him as he spins and looks up, golden eye widening as he looks up. He sees him, soft lime with chestnut freckles. Bright baby blue eyes that usually brimmed with tears. He stood on top of the building behind him, looking down at his brother with a creased brow. He wasn’t wearing his mask, his clementine face covering nowhere to be seen on him. His gentle, rounded face was out for all to see.

“Wait, Raph's out?” A taller figure walks up behind Mikey’s form, peering over the edge. Raphie sees electric blue. Leonardo freezes as he sees the hulking Ralph below them. “What? W-”

“You’re not our Ralph.” Donatello says from behind both of them, looking over Raphie with evaluating brown eyes. They all stand in awkward silence. The events of their last meeting replaying through all their heads.

“You guys came for me?” Mikey asks softly, looking down at Raphie with a joyous kind of affection that has the red turtle melting like a snowman under the brilliant sun. Mikey looks around the alleyway, confusion morphing his features. “Where’s Miguel, Don and Leon?” He asks, slowly making his way down the fire escape. Leonardo and Donatello follow in his footsteps. 

“They went to get you.” Raphie says, pointing at the smaller turtle as he approached. He then booped Mikey on the snout, causing Mikey to giggle. 

“Went to get me?” He asks, stepping closer. He brushes snow off of the spiky shoulders of the large Raph. Leonardo and Donatello still seem wary, but not nearly as aggressive as their first encounter. “Where?”

“Don’s been tracking you - well I guess not you - probably your mask. And they think you’re down there.” Raphie points down at the disturbed grate, now piled with a healthy helping of snow. Mikey chuckles. 

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” He smiles and Raphie can’t help as he wraps his large arms around him. He can’t stand being so close after so long without holding the baby of their family.

“You’re okay, Little Man! Don, Leo and Angelo have been working nonstop to get you back! Oh, they’re gonna be so happy to see you.” Raphie spins Mikey around in his arms and the unmasked turtle was smiling. But Raphie saw those glimmering tears as they welled in his diamond eyes. “Hey, hey. You’re okay.” 

Leonardo’s jaw dropped as he watched the large Raph cradle his baby brother. Donatello blinks as if he thinks the image is an illusion. Then to hear Mikey crying jumpstarts them both forward. Raphie looks at them and has half a mind to pull Mikey away from them. But then Mikey reaches and when he does he’s pressed between three steady heartbeats.

“I-I didn’t think you would come for me.” Mikey hiccups, his hand tangling with Donatello’s for support. The blue and purple seem a little tense but fuss over him with the same attention Raphie can recognise. Before he can respond, Leonardo is quietly nuzzling Mikey.

“Of course they came for you, Mike.” Leonardo’s voice sounds scratchy. 

“We came for you. It was only a matter of time.” 

It was only a matter of fucking time for this to happen.

“You’re here for Mike.” Raphael grunts out, already sneering at the unwelcome visitors. “I don’t fucing know why, you already have one.” He gestures to Angelo who stands behind Leon in the narrow hallway. 

“We want our brother?” Leon starts. It comes out more like a question than a statement, treading lightly with Raphael’s patience hanging by a thread.

“Like I said…” Raphael grumbles, his green eyes hold all three under a dangerous gaze of scrutiny. “You already have a Mikey. You don’t need two. He’s ours.” He says. He pulls his mask tails back. One was shredded down to the threads and much shorter than the other. The three can only speculate how that happened.

“Possessive much?” Don asks, cocking his head and raising one of his sharpied in eyebrows. The red turtle growls in irritation. 

“His family is here. This dimension is where he belongs and I’m not gonna let you try to steal him away.” Raphael says, determination glinting in those acidic greens. He crosses his deep green arms, scars and chipped scales displayed for the purpose of intimidating. 

“Oh, we won’t be trying. We will be succeeding.” Donnie quips. Angelo and Leo look between the two of them, heads like oscillating fans swinging attention from one to the other.

“Bullshit. I’ll fucking kick your ass, Don. Any time, any day, rain or shine.” Raphael scoffs, taking a few aggressive steps forward.

“Oh no, what ever are you gonna do? Throw a wooden plank at me?”

Chapter Text

Somehow this felt familiar. Dodge, duck, counter. It had always been a three versus one, a battle to keep his stance. Leo, Mikey and Donnie, all against him. Raphael was always in the wrong; always too angry, always too brash, always too brutish. Now it was real, more than just his view of his family. Donnie spun his Bo staff over his head, side stepping close to Raphael before swinging it down quickly. Roll, jump, crouch. Donnie knocks the overhead light, it sparks and rains bits of glass down on them. The kitchen is plunged into low light, flickers of electricity from the open wiring above. He evades him to be met with Leo’s twin katanas, watching the luminescent blue reflecting in his eyes. Deep navy shadows are drawn along the stone walls. Dip, lean, sweep the leg. Leo makes a small yelp as he’s knocked unbalanced and topples on top of Donnie. The both of them fell in a mass of limbs and shells. 

“You sons a bitches don’t stand a fuckin’ chance.” Raphael tuts, his eyes whiting out. He unsheathes his sais, scraping them together. He moves his head to the side, it lets out an audible crack as the broken light sparks from above. His deep red mask flows in the dark like blood stained banner. He scrapes the metal of his weapons again, sharp in the air. It nearly looks as if he has flares flying from his hands. 

He’s met with Miguel. He flips up onto the table, landing swiftly and facing Raphael. His nunchaku is already in his hands, rotating faster than they could see. Pause, evaluate, strike. Raphael surged forward, stabbing his sais into the wooden table. He tucks his feet in as he props himself on his arms. Raphael chuckles darkly as he uses his immense forward momentum to piston out his legs. His feet make contact with Angelo’s plastron. 

The alternate of his orange brother is flung back, air knocked out of his lungs. His breathing shudders from the impact and he lets out a huff. A loud thud sounds through the quickly ruined kitchen as the back of Miguel’s head clunks against the wall and he slides down the cement. He has enough sense to spin on his shell and roll away from Raphael as he lands where he used to be. 

Leo gasps behind him, giving off his position. Raphael whips around quickly, meeting Leo’s attacking katana in his sai. It’s a quick job to flick the sword out of his grasp. The katana loses it blue glow as it clatters against the floor. Raphael growls and juts his head forward, clunking their skulls together. Leo staggers back. He holds his head. The sound of whirring metal to his right garners Raphael’s attention. He turns his head. Donnie is on the other side of the table, a manic grin splitting his face. It's unnerving in the low light, flutterings of sparks showering over the mad genius' shoulders. He wrenches his staff underneath and flips it with force against Raphael, who grunts under the weight of the hefty wood. He heaves it off of himself. Push, push, push. The old table creaks as Raphael benches it and it groans as it's dropped on its side. Raphael manages to grit himself up to his feet to see the three alternates of his brothers had regrouped next to their Donnie. 

“Do you guys even know how to fight?” Raphael grimaces as he regards the trio. His frustration builds. The table shouldn't have hurt that much. 

“Probably not the way you fight, Raph.” Miguel answers him. He has an unreadable expression across his face, which was weird to see on a Mikey. But it just ticked Raphael off more that an alternate Mikey wasn’t an open book like he should be. 

“‘The way I fight?’” Raphael repeats his wording, questioning him with a rumble starting in his chest. “Oh, right.” He rolls his eyes glaring at Leo. “Not all respectful combat and disregards the fuckin’ art of ninjutsu.” He spat. 

“I don’t give a shit if you’re respectful, Raph. In fact I plan on being very disrespectful to you.” Leon has a rare look of sternness across his face, a deepening yellow bruise crawling across his face where their heads made contact. He readies his other katana, wielding it with both hands. It lights up the room in electric blue, flickers of orange blooming from Miguel as he flings his nunchaku around, a soft roar of flames gathering at the tips. Raphael should have stuttered, but he took a step forward, ignoring their shows. He gripped his sais so tightly his knuckles were lime in colour. The edges of the panels of Donnie’s staff revved with a biting magenta. Angelo flicked his eyes to the purple destructive energy gathering in Don’s fingers.

“Don, remember restraint. This is Mikey’s home too.” He says through tense jaw and gritted teeth.

“Fuck it isn’t, Michael. I don’t see any home here. Only a concrete coffin smeared with shit.” 

Raphael saw red. 

“I need to stay, Raphie.” Mikey whispers, curled up in the hulking red brother’s arms, small snowflakes fluttering into the cracked ridges of his healed shell. “They-They need me.” He hiccups. He was overcome with emotions. They came for me. It swirled in him like boiling water, bubbling up before the heat overflowed. Leonardo rubbed a calloused hand over his head, swirling his thumb along his forehead.

“Mikey…” He sighs, unsure of how to proceed. Goes to show how rusty his comforting skills are. But Raphie swoops in, nuzzling against Mikey’s head and resting his chin on Leonardo’s hand. He churrs softly which catches a weird glance from Donatello. But both the blue and purple brother jump as Mikey churrs back happily.

“How are you doing… that?” Donatello inquires, stepping closer to listen to the rumble between the two. Leonardo matches his ridged brows, mouth pulled tight in a straight line. 

“Doing what?” Mikey asks, peeking one of his eyes open to look at them. Leonardo can feel the gentle vibration from Raph’s chin pressed against the back of his hand as the sound reverberates through them. 

“Churring.” Donatello answers. “I figured our human mutation didn’t allow for our more animalistic vocalisations like trilling or stridulation. We don’t have hard enough beaks to make many inhuman noises.” Donatello continues. Mikey holds out a hand along his chest, plastering his chipped painted fingers along his plastron. 

“You have to feel it in your chest, Donnie. I hope one day you can be happy enough to find yourself doing it too.” He smiles, the warmth of Raphie around seeming to pull at his heavy eyelids.

“Maybe I will if you stay.” Donatello sighs, joining the coil of limbs with feeble, shaky hands. “You know I need you here… I-I didn’t know until I lost you a second time. But… I can’t handle a third.” Donatello sniffles. Mikey lowers his head, his lips trembling as his expression sours. He should say no. It’s on the tip of his tongue. He meets Leo’s eyes, their spiritual reunion from months back replaying in their minds. Mikey pleads with his eyes as his churr halts. Leo, tell him what I told you. Please. 

His breath catches as if he had been kicked in the chest, that dough rising seeming to block every airway and suddenly the arms around him felt suffocating. 

“No, no. You don’t have to stay. Remember you can choose to come back with us. You can leave." Raphie urges. Despite his soft tone Mikey can only feel like the rope in a game of tug and war. Yanked between them until his edges fray. Ropes don’t have thoughts, they are useful, inanimate objects. Stay here to keep me happy. Come back to be our project. Stay so we can fix this. Come back so we can fix you. Back and forth, the tension rising and the fibers thinning. Arms wound around him, hands grabbing at every inch of exposed skin. 

Images flash in his mind. The kindness of the family that took him as one of their own. But there was always that underlying feeling. The seeping poison underneath the beautiful paint. Nothing more than a project. A brother through pity. The need to save someone again. 

When him and his brothers were young they would sleep in the same bed to conserve warmth. Mikey, being the smallest, was always in the middle. The heart of their family, thumping with a steady beat as they wove their fibers around him. They all tethered him to them like a small floating balloon, running out of helium and bobbing in the breeze. 

No matter what there was an expectation. Be happy, show progress, prove you’re worth helping. Or else all of this effort and care to piece you together will be for nothing. 

All of this glass for nothing.