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Chapter Text

The weirdest bit of being the city’s ‘heroes’ was trying to go back to normal afterwards. How do you just go back to being regular teens when an army of murderous robots had rampaged through the city? When you’d just accidentally blown the docks sky-high? When you’d been chased through the subway, avoiding death by a hair’s breadth, all the while wondering if your brothers had managed to survive the explosion that blew you all apart from each other, or whether you’d ever see them again?

The turtles’ solution, apparently, was Netflix and re-heated pizza. That was why Mikey was in the kitchen slapping slices of cold ‘za onto baking trays and singing to himself. And why Leo was cross-legged on the sofa with Donnie’s laptop balanced on one knee, digging through Netflix for a movie they’d all enjoy watching (or, at least, enjoy falling asleep to).

And Donnie? He had retreated to the cool, quiet, dark sanctuary of their shared bedroom, day-dreaming quietly about chasing tablets of ibuprofen down with a glass of foul-tasting fizzy paracetamol. He'd love nothing more than to bury himself in his tent with a snack and his Crunchyroll subscription. But that was hard to do without your brothers being all over you, worrying.

Then again, it wasn’t like he didn’t have a reason to mope. It’s not every day you get your shell cheese-grater-ed against the subway walls from the window of a moving train. He had no idea what the wound looked like, or how much of his shell had been torn away, but he assumed if it was as bad as it felt, then someone else would have noticed.

Still hurt, though.

As he reached the first-aid box down from its place on Leo’s bunk, his ears picked up the tell-tale shuffling of feet by the door.

“So… has he beat the record yet?

“Not yet. But never say never.” The voice belonged to Raph.

The record for the longest time choosing a movie from Netflix was set by Leo himself just a month ago, and sat at 20 minutes 48 seconds. When his turn to choose came around, his brothers knew they probably had time to grab a shower, a snack, and maybe revise for the next school pop quiz before they actually got to indulge in the joy of cinema.

When he looked up, he was surprised to see Raph staring blankly across the room, deep in thought, and leaning heavily against the doorframe. And he realised with a jolt that his brother's arms were wrapped, uncomfortably tight, around his middle.

“Some day, huh?” Raph said quietly, when he noticed he was being watched. There was sweat gathering above his eyebrows.

Donnie bit his lip, lowering his voice. “Raph… what's wrong?”

His brother looked at him sharply, hackles up. Then, with a grumble, he softened again. “It's… nothing.”

“Oh, okay, so you won’t mind me doing this-”

Donnie dropped the box and lunged at him. His hand didn’t even make it as far as touching Raph’s shell before his brother snatched his wrist in an iron grip. The sudden movement elicited a sharp yelp of pain, which Raph tried unsuccessfully to stifle.

His brother stumbled backwards, feeling a shock of fear run down his spine. In all his 15 years, he could count on the fingers of two hands the amount of times he’d encountered an injury that could make Raph yell like that. The concern must have been plastered all over his face, because his brother quickly turned away, glowering, and it felt as though an invisible wall had gone up between them.

A wall that Donnie was not going to allow to stand.

“What have you done?” He narrowed his eyes insistantly.

Raph took a long time to reply. “I… think I’ve broken some ribs.”

Biting back the shout of indignant surprise was hard work, but Donnie steadied himself with a breath, digging his teeth into his tongue.

“That’s bad, Raph.”

“Whatever.”

“You do know our ribs directly connect to our shells, right? I mean, they pretty much are our shells.”

“Nerd.”

“Ugh. Could you take this seriously? Show me.”

Raph pursed his lips tightly.

~

The first-aid kit consisted mostly of a lot of painkillers because, especially when it came to shells, there wasn’t much more that could be done. They didn’t tend to bleed, and didn’t really benefit from bandages. In fact, before Super-Duper-Fly, they’d never managed to actually crack them badly enough to need anything more than a few days of pain management. But, beside the pills, there were also bandages, rolls of tape, bottles of saline solution - the usual.

Donnie scrabbled around the pile of blister packs for the right combination of drugs. Meanwhile Raph, who had been awkwardly lingering in the doorway with two glasses of water, finally tip-toed closer, and slid uncomfortably down the front of Donnie’s sock drawers into a sort-of seated position. His groans of protest did not go unheard.

“Can I look at you now?” Donnie murmured softly.

In response, Raph simply placed the water down and pointed.

A hairline crack ran up the left-hand side of his plastron, following the lines between the plates, where the keratin was weaker. What was causing the most pain, Donnie realised, was the area where the crack split in two, where the corner of his plate was free and… moving.

“Does it look… bad?” Raph was staring intently at the ceiling above his brother’s head.

“Uuuh…” Donnie hoped the sick-feeling in his stomach didn’t show on the outside. “That’s probably gonna hurt for a while, dude”

Raph let out a long groan. “But I’ve got wrestling practice on Wednesday…”

“Do you know what would happen if-”

“No, and I don’t want to,” his brother snapped back sharply.

Donnie leaned forward and put his finger ever-so-gently on his brother’s plastron, and Raph finally looked down, cringing as he did.

“Look, Raph, you’re not gonna like it, but if you push it too hard before this crack sorts itself out, you’ll be looking at a case of flail-chest. Which is not good.”

“Sounds kinda cool though…” Curiosity got the better of him, and Raph pushed Donnie’s hand away and grimaced as he pressed his own finger into the free edge, just to see how much it would move. Which was great, because Donnie was curious himself, but he knew he’d probably end up concussed if he tried.

“You don't want that plate to detach fully, bro. Your guts are behind there, you know.”

Raph leaned back against the chest of drawers, swallowing thickly, his face growing pale.

“You’re not getting dizzy, are you?” his brother frowned.

“No,” Raph replied, like a liar. Then he quickly changed the subject. “Leo’s asking where you are.”

Donnie chewed his lip uncomfortably. “What did you tell him?”

“Nothing. Just getting some stuff. He’ll have a heart attack if he finds out.”

“I think you should say something. He’ll find out eventually, and then he’ll be mad you didn’t say anything.” Donnie turned his back on his brother, stooping down to collect the packets he’d set out so carefully on the floor behind him.

And that’s when Raph saw it. The awful, raw, weeping mark across the centre of his brother’s shell, like someone had pinned him down with a belt sander. The light from the doorway perfectly caught the ragged edge, giving the wound a sickly golden halo.

His mouth opened faster than he could bite his tongue.

“Dude! What the hell, Donnie?!”

His brother startled and whirled around. “Wh-What I do?!”

“Your shell, man! What happened?”

“Oh. Uhm…” Donnie went oddly quiet, wrapping his arms around himself, his face growing paler as he chewed his lip again. “It’s bad, isn't it? Be honest”

“It’s pretty gnarly,” his brother deadpanned unhelpfully. “Does it hurt?”

“What do you think?” Donnie scowled, probably more curtly than he meant to. It is a stupid question, though.

When he glanced at Raph, though, he realised that his brother wasn't impressed. He didn't think it was cool. No, he was actually worried, for once.

Which made him feel even more anxious.

“... The mechazoid smashed me through the subway train window and pinned me against the wall… while the train was still moving.”

“... Damn.” So, yeah. Like a belt sander.

They were quiet for a long time, each stewing in their own thoughts. It was almost impossible to believe how much had happened in just a few hours.

Then, Raph took another look at his brother’s injury. “You're… actually still bleeding, Dee.”

Donnie wrung his hands uncomfortably. “Do you… think you can clean it for me? Maybe stick a bandage over it or something, I don’t know.”

“Painkillers first,” Raph pointed back to the packets. With a hum of approval, Donnie grabbed a blister pack, then pulled Raph’s hand towards him and deposited the highest safe dosage into his palm.

“What am I taking, exactly?”

Donnie smirked. “Paracetamol and Ibuprofen. You can take them together. Should take the edge off until your shell fuses together again.” He pinched his chin for a moment. “If it doesn't, I guess I can try something stronger.”

He then popped a few ibuprofen for himself, before grabbing his own stash of fizzy paracetamol from his tent and dropping a couple of effervescents into one of the water glasses. When he looked up, Raph was eyeing him curiously.

“It's exactly the same as you've got, I just can't swallow those massive paracetamol tablets!”

“Seriously?”

“Aw, come on! You don't remember the time I almost choked on one? Dad had to dangle me upside down ‘cos you can't Heimlich a turtle! Oh yeah, thanks Raph. Laugh it up. It's so-o-o funny that I almost died.”

To his credit, it was clear Raph was trying to keep his chortling to a minimum, but whether that was kindness or the pain in his ribs, Donnie couldn't be sure. Instead, he busied himself taking the ibuprofen (for some reason, because they were smaller and round, they passed more easily) and then chugging the rest of the effervescent like a Mountain Dew. Not that it tasted even slightly like one.

“Hah! With that form, you're gonna be real popular in college,” Raph quipped.

“Shut up and get this over with,” Donnie replied, handing him the bottle of rubbing alcohol and a handful of cotton wool, then turning his shell towards him.

His hoody was discarded on the floor nearby. As he listened to Raph clearing his throat and beginning to soak the wool, he reached out and drew it towards him, burying his hands in the soft, strong purple fabric.

Then his brother hesitantly pressed on his wound, and sharp, searing pain spiked through him. Yep, that scute was definitely loose. The liquid seeped in around the sides and stung like an electric shock.

Donnie pressed his face into his hoody to muffle the yelp that escaped him.

His brother jumped back at the sound. “You okay?! I can-”

“Just get it over with, Raph!”

“Okay, okay! But I'm just saying, there's a lot of subway crap stuck in here.”

Raph held out the cotton wool so he could see that it was stained black with filth.

“Then it's got to go,” his brother whispered bravely.

After a while, though it still made his eyes water, he sort of numbed to the stinging sensation. He just kept his focus on breathing heavily into his jumper and willing the swabs to finally come up clean. Eventually, he found that the way he'd curled up was indeed quite comfortable, and he could rest his chin on his arms and let his eyelids droop.

“Donnie? Hey, are you still with me?”

It probably took him longer than it should have to reply. “Mmh… still here.”

“Your turn to go dizzy, huh?”

“... ‘m just... Really tired.”

Raph leaned forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, me too. But I'm done now, okay?” He squinted into the first aid box by Donnie's knee. “Do you need, like, a dressing, or…?”

The next moment, he felt his brother fall against him, his head heavy on his shoulder. Panic ran through him like a tremor, until he realised Donnie hadn't fainted. He was just… leaning there. Too tired to pretend to be cool about it.

And Raph realised that, at that moment, he felt the same way. So he wrapped his arms around his brother and let the gratitude flow unspoken between them.

Chapter Text

At age 5, you might learn to expect your sons to wake you in the middle of the night, whether asking for water, or for a hug, or because they've been sick. But at age 15, a night-time call for assistance was a whole other ball game. 

It was the sound of a soda can being knocked off the living room table that initially broke through the veil of sleep. Splinter barely even opened his eyes, knowing full-well that it could be one of the Mutanimals moving around out there, raiding the fridge in the night. And if it was, then they were old enough that it wasn't his problem. 

The next moment, he heard the curtain that separated his room from the living space rattle on its metal pole. And with a jolt, he recognised those staggering footsteps, that ragged, haggard breathing. 

“Leo…?”

The silhouette of his son dropped to his knees a few steps into the room, his breaths coming in sharp, painful gasps. Splinter's heart damn near dropped out of his chest at the sound of it. He scrabbled for the toggle switch of his lamp. 

As warm amber light washed the space, Leo’s terrified, clammy face came into full view. His body trembled terribly, as if with fever, and his arms were wrapped tightly around his chest. Without his blue mask, there was nothing to cover the pinch of his brow above his wide, shining eyes. 

“My son!” Splinter exclaimed, scrabbling off his mattress towards him. “Are you choking? Did someone hurt you? What is happening?” 

His hands stopped inches away from his son's arms, hovering, unsure. 

“I-I-I don't know, Dad!” Leo gasped, his voice fever-pitched and cracking. “I was just… sleeping… and then…”

It could be asthma, Splinter realised, just like Donnie. He remembered with bitterness the day he'd had to send three of his sons, still so young at the time, to ‘borrow’ their brother’s first steroid pumps; remembered holding him tightly, wondering if each painful, wheezing breath would be his last. 

Splinter flapped his hands at Leo until he unfolded his arms, then placed an ear against his chest. But, despite the gasping, it didn't have the right wheeze. There was no other way of explaining it - it just didn't sound right. 

“Dad…” Leo whimpered pitifully. “I… I think I'm dying… ”

Splinter froze. I think I'm dying. Something about that felt familiar. 

He looked his son up and down again. It dawned on him - he recognised this. 

He remembered this . 

One night, not long after the transformation, a young Splinter tucked his tiny turtle sons into their beds, one by one, planting a gentle, whiskery kiss on each forehead as he went. He was exhausted, his stomach twisting at the thought of the night to come. Which one would it be tonight? Would it be Raphael’s sensitive stomach, or Michaelangelo’s night terrors? Donatello’s sleep-walking or Leonardo’s anxious fits of crying? 

He'd never considered what would happen if he ever became a father. He'd never even had the time to prepare. And all he could see was that, so far, he was doing a lousy job. They were unruly, hurt themselves daily, slept badly, and only Donnie had even attempted a first word. 

Admit it. I'm probably ruining these children for life . 

And then, his chest just… closed up. Just like that, he couldn't breathe. A well of dread bubbled up from within him, took him in its arms and twisted until he snapped. 

Somehow, he managed to make it out of the boys room before he collapsed against the wall. Not like he could get any further, with the room spinning so badly around him. 

He just couldn't catch a breath, no matter how hard he tried. He had the horrible, sinking feeling that this was the end. That his final, pitiable act of parenthood would be to die and leave his boys to fend for themselves. 

He had no idea how long he sat there, curled around his legs, with his chest aching and his head between his knees. It felt like forever. 

Until a soft little hand touched his. 

Splinter’s head whipped up, and he came face to face with the big, shining, dinner-plate eyes of Leonardo. 

“...Dad-dy?” 

Stunned silence. 

And then, the floodgates opened. Splinter snatched his son up in his arms and held him tightly, allowing the tears to pour down his cheeks. 

That's right. That's who I am. 

I'm your Daddy. 

“Leonardo, my son… You're going to be okay.”

Splinter held his hands out. It took a long moment for the glassy-ness to fade from Leo's terrified eyes, but slowly, slowly, his trembling hands ceased to claw at his stomach and instead reached out to hold his father's. 

“Everything is alright, I promise you. You're not dying.”

“B-But-”

Splinter squeezed his hands tightly, speaking slowly. “Leo. You're having a panic attack.”

His eyes suddenly locked on to his father's, studying him carefully. “This… This is a panic attack?“

“Mhm,” Splinter nodded. “That's all it is. You're not dying, my son. You're going to be okay.”

“Wh-What do I do? How do I…?” 

“You have to ride it out,” his father crooned in his best I’m-your-dad-so-I-know-things voice. “You just… breathe deep, like your meditations. I do it with you, okay? Like this.” 

And so, Splinter took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air. His son copied, but his painfully twisting chest landed him in a coughing fit instead. The second time, though, he managed almost a full lungful. And together, they released that breath slowly, slowly, until their lungs were spent. And then, they did it again. 

It took a few minutes, but Leo's eyes drifted closed, and finally, the tension began to ebb away from his shoulders. Splinter took the opportunity to look him up and down, noting the exerted trembling that remained in his arms and knees. He let go of one hand to retrieve his handkerchief and dab Leo's damp brow. 

“That better be clean, Dad,” his son chided, half-joking, in a small voice. 

Splinter quickly put the hanky away again. 

“How do you feel now?” 

“I… I actually still feel awful, Dad. Like I'm gonna puke.”

“You need a bowl?” 

“Uh… No. Thanks.” Leo stared at their intertwined hands for a long moment. “Is… this gonna happen again?” 

“Maybe, maybe not. But now you know what to do, yes?” Splinter gave his best, most enthusiastic smile. 

Leo didn't look convinced. He took another of those long, calming breaths. “I don't wanna do that again. Ever. That was horrible. It still is horrible.” 

“You get used to them eventually.”

Splinter froze as, for the second time that night, his son's shocked eyes snapped onto his. “Wait- you get them too?!” 

A warm smile came over his face, which was clearly not what Leo was expecting. So he placed a hand on his son's cheek and cradled his beautiful, precious face. 

“You don't remember it, do you? It was you who helped me through my first. But you were so tiny, you couldn't possibly remember…”

That realisation - he understands me - hit him like a freight train, and all of a sudden, Leo began to well up. Which, his father realised, he hadn't seen him do in many, many years now. His son clapped his hands over his eyes and looked away from him, like he was trying to hide it, but the strangled, hiccuping sobs quickly gave it away. 

The boy who'd grown to nearly twice his father's size suddenly looked as small as the day Splinter found him. 

So Splinter stood and gathered his son into his chest, wrapping his arms around him, like he could shield him from every harmful thing, with one hand on the back of his neck, and the other rubbing circles into his warm, shaking shell. And after a while, Leo reached out to wrap his arms around his father, balling the fabric of his pyjamas up in his fists as he let the sobbing overtake him. 

Splinter pressed a gentle kiss into the top of his head. 5 years old or 15, it didn't matter to him. 

I will always be your father.

Chapter Text

The shriek that issued from the bathroom cut straight through everyone's Sunday afternoon chill. As did the banging and crashing that followed. 

The shock made Raph drop his deadlift directly onto his chest, where he couldn't quite get his arms back underneath it, and the bar pinned him into the bench. Mikey leapt up from where he’d spread his homework on the kitchen table to assist his brother. 

Donnie, however, sat cross-legged on the sofa, headphones on, gazing between the screaming toilet door and his struggling brothers with a look of bemusement on his face. 

A moment later, the door slammed open and Leo came tumbling out, limbs flailing, another scream tearing from his lips. 

“Get it off, Get it off-! ” 

And then… something came flying off his shirt and plopped onto the floor. Something dark, hairy, and covered in legs. And it moved fast. 

Straight towards the sofa. 

“Donnie, look out-!” 

The living room became a cacophony of shouting, from Donnie giving a shriek and abandoning his laptop in order to stand up on the sofa cushions, to Leo scrambling to the kitchen for some sort of receptacle to catch it in, to Mikey wailing don't hurt it! while Raph roared at him to concentrate on the weights, dummy! 

Leo had at least three cupboards open, tupperware spilling everywhere as he shouted, “Don't let it get near you, I think it's poisonous!” 

“It’s venomous , not poisonous!” Donnie couldn't help but correct him. “If it bites you and you die, it's venomous! Wait, where did it go?” 

The next second, the - quite frankly enormous - spider clambered up the sofa cushion and sprinted across Donnie’s bare toes. 

“ Aaaah! It touched me! ” 

Leo, who had finally chosen a plastic jug as his weapon, had no time to react as his brother, in full, panicked flight, made the leap from the back of the sofa and landed directly on top of him. The two of them hit the ground with a hearty thump!

Across the room, Mikey was doing a lousy job helping Raph with the bar. Although, granted, not through lack of trying. But his brother insisted on trying to bench ridiculously heavy loads, and Mikey just couldn’t get a proper grip on it. Honestly, it was no surprise he was trapped. 

“Mikey! For the last time, just lift it! ”

In a last ditch attempt, he hopped up onto the bench, straddling his brother’s torso. Then, he grabbed the centre of the bar with two hands and heaved. 

“With your knees, Mikey, your knees! You’re gonna hurt yourself, man!”

“Hey, I’m trying, okay?!”

He chanced a glance across the room. Donnie was now up on the kitchen counter, backseat-driving the spider’s capture as Leo danced around on his tiptoes, the jug clasped in his hand, trying to work up his courage enough to lunge and trap the poor creature. 

“Come on, Leo! Just do it already!”

“I don’t see you helping!” Leo bit back. 

“If you can’t catch it, then get a shoe and squash it!” Donnie squealed. 

“ No!” Mikey gave up his attempt to lift the bar from the middle, instead dropping down to one side and doing the thing he knew he really shouldn’t - sliding the weight off one end of the bar. 

Raph didn’t have much time to protest as the whole thing flipped up and off him, coming down onto the floor beside him with an almighty crash. His seething glare fell upon his little brother, who actually couldn’t have cared less, for once. He was too busy launching a rescue mission. 

“Just get me my Bo, I’ll deal with it!” Donnie was yelling. Leo was still pressing his back hard into the kitchen cabinets right under his brother’s feet, courage failing him, flapping his hands and muttering encouragement to himself as he stared at the spider just feet away. It had come to a standstill just behind the sofa, probably contemplating its next move. 

Mikey swooped in, snatched the jug, and stooped down, carefully shepherding the creature into the receptacle with the help of his free hand. 

“It’s okay, little guy. I got you,” he soothed. 

Silence reigned. 

And then, slowly, one by one, his brothers gathered around him, their eyes fixed on the creature he held, contained in plastic between his hands. 

“Is it a Brown Recluse?” Donnie asked hesitantly. 

Mikey took another look. “Nah. It’s too hairy. Probably a wolf spider or something.” 

“So… it’s harmless?” Leo ventured uncertainly. 

“Almost definitely!” Mikey beamed. 

Neither Donnie nor Leo looked remotely convinced. 

Raph, on the other hand, looked just about ready to hit all of them. “It’s official, you guys are idiots. I can’t believe we fought a giant kaiju, and killer robots, and a team of mutant super-criminals, and you’re still afraid of that. ”

Leo gave a whine of protest, and Donnie clapped back, “It’s called a phobia, Raph!”

And Mikey’s face lit up in a devilish grin. 

“So you wanna hold it, right?” he waved the jug at his brother, watching the annoyance turn to nervousness. 

“Uh, no thanks. Just get rid of it or whatever.”

“Aw, come on, Raph! It’s kinda cute when you see it up close.”

Mikey took a step towards him, waving the jug near his brother’s face (which, of course, caused the spider to begin to flail wildly for a foothold) and Raph leaned away. 

“Hey, seriously, stop it.” 

“But you said you weren’t scared!” 

Raph glanced at Leo and Donnie, who were both looking like they were enjoying this too much.

“I-I’m not scared! It’s just a stupid spider, it can’t hurt us.”

Mikey wagged his eyebrows encouragingly. His brother shook his head. 

Mikey took another step- 

And caught his toes on the rug. 

As if in slow motion, the turtle, jug, and spider all went flying forwards. Mikey fell - jug flew - spider launched from jug - and landed directly on Raph’s forehead. 

The howl that ripped from his throat was unprecedented, and on instinct, Raph recoiled, hands flailing to free himself from the sudden eight-legged embrace. And once again, the poor creature was airborne, until it landed halfway across the room and zoomed off towards the door. 

Where it ran into Splinter. Who stepped on it with a clawed foot, then bent down and ate it.

Chapter Text

“Your brother's butts will be kicked… and all because you couldn’t save them.” 

The docks were completely obliterated. All around, the husks of shipping containers loomed up out of the smoke. The sound of the explosions still rang in his ears, and there was fire all around him, sparks of green, yellow and pink spraying off in all directions. 

Raph stood at the heart of the explosion, and for 100 yards all around him, there was absolutely nothing left. 

Except for Leo, Mikey and Donnie. Lying, crumpled, blackened, unmoving, like islands rising from a turbulent, scorched sea. 

This isn't happening. 

But there they were, right in front of him. 

This can't be happening. 

He was frozen in place, fear rooting him to the ground. He found he couldn't even speak. 

His brothers. 

They're… 

They're dead.

Aren't they? 

And it's my fault. Because I couldn't save them. 

-

The second Raph could move again, he jolted upright so hard his head connected with Mikey's bunk above him. Teeth bared, fists clenched, shoulders tight, he glared out into the darkness as though, in a moment, something might leap out and try to take him down. 

His brain screamed fight! You have to fight! 

And then it reminded him why. 

A flash of an image replayed in his mind. His three siblings, laid out like broken toys on the floor. 

Dead. 

Only then did it occur to him that he was breathing way too fast. His chest ached tightly, like something was wrapped around it. 

Raph span and peered into the darkness. From there, he could see into Leo's bunk. His older brother was resting comfortably on one side, his shell facing him, snoring softly. One foot poked out from under the covers and twitched in his sleep. 

Not dead. 

Raph felt the breath seep out of him. 

So it was a stupid dream. Obviously. I should have known that. 

He pressed his trembling fingers into the new, sore bump on his sweaty forehead, trying to rub away the mark. There wasn't much point trying to go back to sleep for the moment, so instead, he hopped out of bed and poked his nose over the edge of Mikey's bunk. 

To check he hadn't woken up, of course. Definitely not to check that he was still alive. 

Mikey slept on his front most nights, and this night was no different. With his face buried in his arms, a stuffed toy on each side, and blankets piled high and heavy on his shell. Just the way he liked it. His face was soft, relaxed, at ease, and he was mumbling something about pizza. 

Raph sighed. 

Well, I've checked on everyone else. May as well complete the set. 

There was still a light on in Donnie's tent, although that wasn't unusual. He often fell asleep while reading manga or comics, or sometimes even drawing. Once or twice, he’d woken up with the pages stuck to his face. Raph often wondered how he managed to concentrate on anything, let alone books, at such a late hour. Didn’t everyone get to the end of the day and just… pass out? 

Luckily, his brother never fully zipped the tent door up. There was a gap near the top. Raph bent down to peer though… 

… and their eyes met. 

Raph broke out in a cold sweat. The look on Donnie's face suggested he probably felt the same way. 

“Uh… hi,” Raph whispered falteringly. 

“Hey,” his brother almost silently replied. 

Raph glanced down. In his hands, Donnie gripped a thick volume of - you guessed it - manga. Not that his brother could read the cover from here but… he could see the black and white pictures. 

“... What are you doing up?” Raph asked. 

Donnie narrowed his eyes. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He looked away. Something in Donnie's eyes was a bit too knowing to be comfortable. 

“Yeah, okay, well… good talk,” Raph muttered, rising and heading for the kitchen. Maybe he'd feel more like sleeping after a glass of water. 

-

He wished his brain would chill out. He just found that awful image kept replaying itself over and over. That, and the nagging anxious feeling just wouldn't leave his chest. He kept feeling like something was… wrong. 

The glass of water sat untouched in front of him, in pride of place on the ceramic hob top that he was currently using to keep himself upright. He gripped the edge of it the way someone grips a bucket before they puke. 

It didn't matter how many times he told himself it was just a dream. Something in him was determined to keep asking, but what if, one day, it really does happen? 

What if one day, you let them down and they get hurt? 

What if one day, you end up alone? 

‘Alone’ was something that Raph quickly realised he wasn't. There was a nagging feeling of someone watching him, and when he turned, he spotted a silhouette in the darkness, leaning nonchalantly against the fridge. Jumbled numbers from the microwave’s digital clock were reflected in a pair of square-ish glasses. 

“What do you want?” He grumbled, in a harsh voice that he was way too tired to control. 

Donnie didn’t flinch, though, to his credit. “Just… observing,” he replied cryptically, plucking a chopstick out of the utensils pot on the counter and beginning to twirl it around his fingers like a mini version of his Bo. 

“Donnie, it is way too late at night for your I'm-the-smart-one-I-know-everything nonsense,” he spat. 

That made his brother's calm expression falter. “Okay, fine. If you wanna be like that - I heard you have a nightmare and I wanted to see if you're okay. Which you're not, B-T-W. So don't bother messing with me.”

Raph bristled, in spite of himself, and squared his shoulders. “Oh yeah? Well, while we're practicing interrogation, what's your excuse?!” 

The chopstick paused mid-spin.

“Raph,” his brother responded gently, in a way he'd definitely copied from their dad. “You don't have to fight me over this. I just wanna help. Trust me, you can talk to me. I've done this with Leo, like, a million times now. ”

That caught Raph by surprise. He stared blankly at his brother, and as the seconds ticked by, the controlled expression melted slightly from Donnie's face. 

“... What? You thought you were the only one?”

Raph stared at the floor. To be honest, he hadn't thought about it at all. 

Donnie reached beneath his glasses to rub at his eye, his brow knotting in the uncomfortable silence. “You seriously haven't heard us waking ourselves up at all hours of the night? No, I guess you probably haven't. You've always been a heavy sleeper.”

Scuffing his toe into the floor, Raph wracked his brains. The only thing he could really remember was the night none of them would forget, just two weeks after Super-Duper-Fly, when Mikey had a nightmare bad enough that he screamed the whole sewer awake. Something about TCRI and the milking machine. It took them hours to calm him down afterwards. 

But other than that? Nothing. 

You're not even there for them when you're sleeping in the same room as them, his mind taunted him. 

He caught sight of his brother leaning towards him, trying to catch his eye. “Just… tell me what you dreamed about. It'll help. Probably.”

“I'll do you a deal,” Raph said quietly, eyes set like stone upon the stove-top he was leaning over. 

Donnie scoffed. “Seriously?” 

“I'll tell you about my dream if you promise to stop staying up so late.”

It was Donnie's turn to fidget for a moment under his brother's piercing gaze. The chopstick spun fast through his fingers. “... I know, I know. It's just… so quiet at night, I can actually concentrate, you know? And then I get lost in it…”

A yawn caught him unaware, pressing up and out of his throat, and across from him, Raph raised his eyebrows pointedly. 

“Fine. I'll… set a reminder or something. Try to get to sleep earlier.”

His brother nodded, satisfied, for the moment. Then, he turned on his heel and began to wander off across the room, slowly, deliberately. 

“Hey, Raph, you promised-!” 

“Yeah, yeah, I'm… getting there.” 

He snatched up a baseball that was lying on the ground, tossing it in his grip a couple of times, before bouncing it off the wall and catching it. 

Donnie winced. “You're gonna wake Dad up.” 

“Urgh!” his brother snarled, spiking the ball directly into a box of junk. His brother was right, of course, but… his body just needed to do something. 

So he hopped up onto the pull-up bar that Beebop and Rocksteady had bolted above one of the door frames and did a couple of reps instead. 

“This is… not how I imagined this conversation would go,” Donnie's voice carried a hint of amusement from somewhere behind him. 

Raph dropped to the floor. 

“I dreamed you all died in that dockyard explosion, and I was the only one left.”

Behind him, he heard the clatter of the chopstick hitting the tiles. 

When he turned, Donnie was cross-legged on the sofa, a pained expression on his face. 

Pity. Just what I need. 

But then, his brother chewed his lip, his eyes glazing over. “... You too, huh?” 

Raphs's stomach sank as he watched his brother sinking into himself, abandoning his glasses completely to dig the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. 

“I knew it,” Donnie murmured, his voice husky. “I knew I heard you call for us. It's always the same, for Mikey, for Leo… for me. Now you too.”

Raph tried to pretend he couldn't hear the way his brother’s breath was hitching. Instead, he kicked at a crumpled piece of paper on the floor, sending it scurrying under the coffee table. The movement swung the heavy weight of his phone around in the pocket of his sweatpants, and on instinct, he wrapped his fingers around it. 

“Hey, Donnie?”

His brother didn’t look up. 

“Hey, earth to Brainbox? You wanna watch a Let’s Play with me?”

Donnie perked up at that. A moment later, the two of them were side-by-side on the sofa, gathered around Raph’s phone, with a Minecraft Chill Survival playlist running. 

“Raph?”

“Yeah?”

“We’ll have a seriously hard time dying in battle with you around. You know that, right? You’re, like, super tough, and so are we. So… quit worrying about it, ‘kay?”

“...Okay.”

At some point about 5 minutes in, Raph’s eyes began to droop, and his brother had to take over holding the phone. He could feel sleep calling him, his head falling against Donnie's shoulder. And he had to admit to himself that, actually, he didn’t really mind being propped up by his sibling, just this once. 

The next thing he knew, his father was waking them for school with the threat of confiscating his phone.

Chapter Text

Another school day, another headache. Donnie put his glasses on the lunch table and dug his thumbs into his temples. It felt like a cluster of spikes was sitting right behind his eyeballs, and the lunch room cacophony was only making things worse. 

Another shoulder bumped into his own, vying for his attention. “Hey. You okay?” 

“Headache,” he rasped. No point in trying to hide it. 

“Again?” He could see the concern on Leo's face without even having to open his eyes. “Isn't that every day this week now?” 

“Keep reminding me, why don't you?” 

Donnie tried to ignore the uneasy little noise his brother made. The last thing he needed was to be constantly bugged about it. Or anything else, for that matter. 

“You're gonna be okay for your appointment though, right?” 

His brother's response was to fold his arms on the table and drop his forehead onto them with a pointedly loud groan. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Leo lowered his voice a little. “Hey, listen, why don't we go to the library? It's quieter there, and I heard the book club have finally convinced the school to get beanbags.”

The ultimate shell-friendly seating? Hmm. That does sound tempting. 

Maybe his brother wasn't great at taking hints, but Donnie would be eternally grateful to him for his knack for thinking things through. And, if he was honest, the library sounded pretty good right about now. 

This was why Splinter chose Leo as their leader. It wasn't about age or ninja skill. It was simply that fact that, whatever the problem, his oldest brother could come up with a solution. 

Which was why Leo had booked Donnie into the opticians later that day. It was no secret that the headaches appeared nearly every day, and his brother had latched on to a comment from April a couple of weeks ago about her own prescription lenses. It got Leo thinking - maybe there was a good reason for his brother's pain. And, just maybe, there was a solution to the problem after all. 

With another sigh, Donnie relented and allowed his brother to put an arm around his shoulders and steer him towards the door. 

-

By the end of the day, the headache was probably the worst it had ever been. Which really didn't pair well with the sudden nervousness that was twisting up his insides. All of which meant that it was nice to curl into his soft purple hoody in a quiet corner of the school yard as everybody else left for the day. Donnie found himself pulling on the toggles of his hood to tighten it around his face and muffle the outside noise, trying to focus instead on the rustle of the wind through the tree he was leaning against, the gentle creaks from the bending trunk that hummed through his shell. 

Man, was this tiring. In fact, he was almost dozing off by the time a familiar voice caught his attention. 

“Found him!” 

Donnie stirred in time to see April hurrying over, with Leo in tow. He quickly pushed his hood down and tried to look less miserable. 

“Where are the others?” were the first words to tumble out of Leo's mouth. 

“Mikey wanted to hit up the comic store and Raph went too ‘cos he thought the opticians would be boring,” Donnie quickly replied, before his brother had a full-blown meltdown. “They said they'd meet us somewhere afterwards.” 

As Leo breathed a sigh of relief, Donnie grabbed his bag and took April's outstretched hand, allowing her to boost him onto his feet. Somehow, the headache seemed less painful now he had someone else to focus on. 

The optician was about 20 minutes walk away. It was the same one April used, so it came highly recommended. The receptionist even recognised her as they walked through the door, and they paused for a polite chat. 

“Dr Adefope will be along to see you soon,” he said in his sing-song voice, gesturing towards the seating in the waiting area. “And… Oh, I know it's not professional, but could I have a selfie with you, turtle-guys? My partner's a huge fan.” 

Pretty standard stuff, really. Donnie went along with it, but honestly, the smell of cleaning fluid was catching his nostrils and the clinical white of the walls left him with a nagging, anxious feeling in his chest. He suddenly realised he didn't know what to expect, or how to act, or… well, anything at all. 

So when they sat, he balled his hoody up into his fists and stared at his lap, his shoes, the side table - anything that wouldn't stare back - and didn't bother to follow as his brother and April chattered beside him. His eyes scanned the posters on the walls, hoping for a clue as to what might lie in store behind the pristine white door. 

The letter charts, friendly faces, and complex-looking machines didn't give him much of a clue. 

“... Donnie?” 

Of course he’d zoned out enough not to notice they were trying to include him. Classic Donnie. 

“Uh… Yeah. Sure.”

When he looked up, Leo was fixing him with a look that definitely suggested that was the wrong answer. And so was April. 

He chewed his lip. “... What did you say again?” 

Leo scowled a little “Hey, c'mon, man, April was talking to you.” 

She hushed him quickly. “Donnie… are you feeling okay? You look like you're gonna barf.”

He swallowed thickly. How did she know that, just by looking at him? 

“I'm fine,” he lied, because the alternative threatened to make him feel infinitely worse. 

Leo stood up and came to sit on his other side, his hand finding its way to his brother's shoulder and gripping tightly. 

“Take it easy, man. It's not as bad as you think.” 

“How am I supposed to know that?” Donnie clapped back sharply. “I don't even know what you signed me up for! For all I know, they're gonna laser me in the eyeball, or stick needles in me or something!” 

That was probably a bit loud. The waiting room might have been empty, but the receptionist was definitely peering from the corner of his eye. Which made him feel even worse.

But, finally, Leo and April exchanged a look that said exactly what Donnie had been thinking this whole time. 

Someone should probably have explained how this works. Like, a long time ago. 

April leaned in, adjusting her glasses on her nose. “All they're gonna do is shine a light in your eye and take some photos, and ask you to read a few letters while they try some lenses. That's all.”

Donnie took a moment to process this. “But… what if I do something wrong and it doesn't work?”

April smiled, not a mocking smile like his brothers might have, but with genuine warmth. “I've done this loads of times before, Donnie. If you're nervous, I'll come in with you. I mean, i-if that's alright, of course.”

Donnie glanced at Leo, who was keeping a tight lid on his expression. Which probably meant he'd rather April stayed out here with him. But his hand was firm on Donnie's shoulder, and after a moment, he nodded his encouragement. 

“Isn't that kinda… I don't know, weird?” 

“No way!” April grinned. “My mum comes with me every time! Whether I want her to or not…”

The door swished open briskly, and a lady appeared from behind it, dressed in a tailored white clinical uniform, her locks all neatly tied under a brightly coloured scarf. 

“Mr, uh… Donatello?”

He stood up on instinct, just like school, and a realisation dawned over the woman's face. So that's why he hasn't got a last name. 

He was pretty used to that, by now. 

The doctor reached out a hand. “Great to meet you, young man. I'm Dr Adefope. If you'll come with me…”

He was several paces through the door before he even thought to check whether April had kept her word and come with him. Luckily, before he even had a chance to look back, he felt her hand on his shell, and caught the glimmer of her smile out of the corner of his glasses. 

-

“... Say that to me again, Mr Donatello?” Dr Adefope said calmly. 

“Call me Donnie. And… I just kinda found these glasses next to a dumpster. Like, years ago.” 

She was trying so hard to keep her surprise under wraps, he could just tell. 

“And you've never had an eye test before?” 

“No. But, I mean… I can't see much without these on, so...” 

She made some more notes on her clipboard, her lips pursued. But the room was so dark, Donnie couldn't tell if it was amusement or distaste that creased her brow. He glanced at April, who had a glimmer of mirth in her eyes. 

At least she thinks it's funny. 

Mostly, Donnie just felt embarrassed. 

Dr Adefope held out her hand, and he placed his glasses into her palm. Which meant now, whatever expression was on her face was totally blurred. But he could make out the way she ran her fingers along the cracks in the lenses and the dents in the frames. 

Then, all of a sudden, she began to tut incredulously. 

“Dear me! I cannot believe what's in front of me.” 

Beside him, April chuckled, like she'd been waiting for this the whole time. Dr Adefope was waving his glasses at her now. 

“Have you seen this boy's glasses? No, this won't do.” She leaned towards him now, into the area where his vision was somewhat clear, placing her hand on his shoulder. “No ‘hero of the city’ should be without a proper prescription. Not on my watch.”

She placed his glasses back on his face so that he could clearly see the warmth in her smile. And, finally, he let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. 

The machines were, like, insanely cool, and he focused hard on trying to work out how they went together while Dr Adefope tried different lenses and flashed lights into his pupils. It was certainly a good distraction from his clammy palms. So much so that he was surprised to be told that twenty minutes had passed, as he and April were sent to sit down while the optician reviewed his eye scans (which she insisted on because he hadn't had them before). 

After a brief moment, April nudged him with an elbow. “Wasn't so bad, huh?”

He smirked and shook his head. Funnily enough, it was only scary when you didn't know what was about to happen. 

There was something warm and inviting about the way she leaned back in her chair and adjusted her glasses. It made him feel… safe. So he came out with exactly what was on his mind.

“You gotta remember, April, me and my brothers, we've never even been to a doctor before. This is, like, way weird for me.” 

“Huh. To be honest, I… hadn’t really thought about it. I can't remember a time when I didn't have to come here every year.” She looked at him for a long moment, before speaking again. “How's the headache?” 

He shrugged awkwardly. “Still there, but… I kinda forgot about it for a bit.”

“I really hope this helps,” she said softly, in a way that made him feel loved and embarrassed at the same time. Sometimes, he was reminded just how alien it felt to have humans who really, genuinely cared about them. 

Crazy, how much can change in a few months. 

Dr Adefope returned to assure him that his eyes were healthy, and then sent the two of them to choose frames from the massive selection, which was a relief, knowing how long they'd left Leo on his own out there. 

Not that he had to worry - all his brothers had gathered at the door to welcome him back with a triumphant shout, Mikey sporting a pair of ill-fitting sunglasses he'd obviously picked up on his way in. 

“How was it?” Leo was quick to ask. 

“Like April said, it's totally fine. Nothing to worry about.”

And for the next 15 minutes, he was swept up in the usual energy. Someone had to explain to Mikey that they weren't just going to take his brother's old glasses away and give him new ones immediately, because the lenses had to be fitted first. Raph found out that contact lenses were a thing, and then needed to be reminded that their eyes were way bigger than a human's, and they wouldn't make them in Donnie's size - Shame! Maybe then you wouldn't look like such a nerd! - and finally, he had to endure the absolute ribbing he got from them with almost every set of frames he tried, until he finally landed on something that looked almost the same as his originals. 

“But with a bit of modern flair!” Mikey cheered, pressing his cheek against Donnie's as they leaned in close to the mirror. “Kinda ‘Mark Ruffalo’, if you ask me.”

“You say everyone with glasses looks like Mark Ruffalo,” Raph snarked. 

Donnie just rolled his eyes. “I don't care - I like them. And, they don't feel like they'll fall off in a fight, either.”

“Shall we ask if they have a broom handle you could practice with?” Mikey grinned, imitating a few of his brother's signature Bo staff moves with a few sound effects thrown in for good measure. 

Leo gave him a shove to shut him up, before clapping Donnie on the shoulder. “If you like them, that's what matters. How much are they?” 

Donnie took them off, replaced them with his old glasses, and squinted at the price tag with an immediate grimace. “Urgh… way more expensive than I thought.”

His brothers and April exchanged a strange sort of look, which immediately made him suspicious. 

“What?! What is it?” 

“I… think you should just go ahead and get them,” his older brother nodded. “And a set of spares, too, cos you know, ‘heroes of the city’ and all. Look, the guys and I talked, and… we wanted to pitch in to help you get them.”

For a moment, he couldn't even find his voice. It was all he could do to simply stare at his brothers’ faces and try to work out if they were joking. 

“R-Really…? You're sure?”

Raph was quick to crack a gap-toothed smile. “Why not? I mean, we made all that cash doing interviews, why wouldn't we help you out?” 

“Yes, and, you have to wear them, like, all the time, dude,” Mikey pointed out. “You literally can't see without them. Which means you gotta get something you like!” 

Leo nodded along, too, as April nudged Donnie’s arm. “Mikey’s right, by the way. They do look cool on you.” Then she paused for a moment to look him up and down. “Well… they will when they’re adjusted, anyway.”

Donnie looked at the price tag again, his cheeks flushed. “Wow… thanks, guys.” 

-

Two days later, April met him at the school gates with a brown paper bag in her hand, having picked it up on her way there that morning, and he opened it to find not two, but three small cases inside. 

“Dr Adefope decided to throw in a pair of prescription sunglasses, too, as a thank you for saving the city,” she explained. 

When they were unpacked, it turned out they weren’t just any sunglasses - they were Ray-Bans. So, of course, he had to put them on straight away, hyped up by his three brothers, in a way that made April cringe and try to hide in her jacket. 

Then, he swapped over to the frames he'd chosen himself. The lenses were pristine and glistened like crystal. It was almost weird to see through them without the scrapes and cracks getting in the way. 

He looked at his hands, then his brother's faces, and squeaked out a cry of amazement. 

“Whoa, dudes! I can see, like, every brick in that wall!” 

And just like that, Donnie no longer had to squint at his work, or dodge people last-second in the corridor, or wonder what on earth things were when they were in the distance. And, most importantly, the headaches were a thing of the past. Finally. 

He’d never admit it, but… it was yet another of Leo’s great ideas.

Chapter Text

Before Mikey was even fully conscious, there were three words reverberating round and round in his head. 

Worst. Day. Ever.

But the trouble was, he was really struggling to remember what on earth that even meant. 

The first thing he was aware of was a harsh sort of breathing. The kind that caught in the back of your throat and made you hiccup and cough. Shame he couldn't tell where it was coming from. But it made him think about his own lungs, his own chest, which rattled and ached and made him want to be sick. 

Wherever he was, it was cool, and damp, and very, very dark. 

That, or he had his eyes shut. With his head spinning like this, he couldn't really be sure. 

I… I think I must be hurt… 

It was so hard to be sure of anything when his thoughts kept sliding past him like water droplets on glass. But he could cling on to whatever he was lying back against, which was warm and solid, like a blanket on a sun-baked pavement. And there was something soft propping up his head. 

Where… am I? What happened? 

Why can't I remember? 

Mikey struggled to piece things together. He remembered school, and Improv club, and fro-yo, and… 

And it was Thursday. 

-

Thursday afternoons were Mikey’s favourite time of the week. Not only was drama on his timetable during the day, it was Improv practice after school, and it was the same day as Raph’s wrestling club, which meant they got to walk home together, just the two of them. 

Or, oftentimes - like today - it was the three of them, because April had a habit of hanging back late at school to work on her bad-guy research board. 

But that didn’t bother Mikey. Having their cool human friend around only added to the fun. 

And today, as on most Thursdays, he managed to persuade the little group to grab fro-yo at their favourite stop, a cutesy little spot done up like a Parisian cafe, complete with stripey red-and-white awning. And the best thing? If they did this on Thursday, there was no Leo around to complain about wasting time or money. 

“C’mon, Mikey, just pick something!” Raph was grumbling as they stood in line. 

Mikey’s nose was an inch from the glass cabinet. “But, Raph, there’s 25 flavours! That’s a different flavour every week for, like, a year or something!”

April snorted. “It’s not, but hey.”

Mikey took no notice, and instead rounded on his brother. “Don’t tell me, you’re getting the same as you always do.”

Raph shrugged, hands in his trouser pockets. “Strawberry is the classic. The original. Why fix something that ain’t broke?”

“Well, I’m gonna try every flavour in the shop. That’s the only way to know for sure which is best.” The clerk called them forward, and Mikey sidled up to the counter with a grin. “One strawberry, one peach pavlova, and… what did you want, April?” 

“Blueberry. But I thought it was my turn to pay…?”

Mikey and Raph looked at each other. Then Raph shrugged. “I was gonna leave it to Mikey, considering this is always his idea.”

“Hey!” His brother squeaked. 

“What? You’re always going on about ‘being a grown-up’ and ‘handling things yourself’ - so how about you handle the finances, too?!”

April leaned across the both of them and tapped her card. 

-

Mikey definitely opened his eyes this time. Not that it helped. He still couldn't really see anything. 

Man, did his chest ache. Like, seriously bad. Like an elephant had sat on him and shattered all his ribs. Every breath seemed to rattle uncomfortably and bring shimmering stabs of pain. It made it impossible to think straight. 

His feet were sore, too. They felt raw and bleeding and open. But the wetness could have been from the water he was sitting in. 

That's definitely water… right? 

He thought about moving, but even trying to move a little made his ribs throb. A strangled, pathetic kind of whine passed unbidden through his lips. That was when that warm, solid thing he was lying against began to move. 

“Mikey?” His brother’s hushed, cracking voice was music to his ears. 

Oh, thank God. Raph is here. 

A pair of rough hands gently took hold of his shoulders, and he leaned back, pressing his head into the space under what he now realised was Raph’s chin. 

His injury complained painfully again. 

“Uuuugh…”

“Easy, Mikey. You’re gonna be okay.”

Somehow, he wasn’t so sure about that. It felt like he was fading in and out of… everything. 

What happened to me?

-

Turns out, peach pavlova doesn’t work as well in fro-yo as it does in ice cream. But, then again, how would Mikey know that if he didn’t try it? 

For April's sake, he didn't voice his complaints. In fact, he couldn't have anyway, because she was deep in a journalistic monologue. 

“... So now, not only are we on the lookout for TCRI, there's this other bunch of goons - what was the acronym? - EPF, I think - they're the ones who nearly gunned down Leo, Sally and Pigeon Pete with those tranquilliser darts. Well, now I keep seeing their logo everywhere, and I just have this feeling, y’know? That they're, like, super bad news.” 

“What does it stand for?” He chipped in as they dodged between other pedestrians. Someone had to, ‘cos Raph was busy licking out of his tub (Use a spoon, dude!) and didn't look at all like he was listening. 

“I'm still not sure, I haven't managed to get a clear enough image. But I think the 'E’ has to be ‘Earth’, cos that's what's in the middle of the logo - here, I'll show you…”

As they crossed a road, they dodged around some yellow warning barriers into a quieter, darker street. Which was a relief after the usual crowds. April snatched up her phone and started digging through her camera roll, with a brother at each shoulder, peering on with mouths full of frozen yogurt.

It took a moment, but she found the clearest shot she had. 

“Weird,” was all Raph could say about it. “Mikey, you're good with names. Any ideas?” 

“Earth… Preservation… Facilitators?” He pursed his lips. “Do they care about climate change or something?”

“They were geared up to capture mutants, not save the planet,” April sighed. “I don’t think you guys are the ones pumping out pollution and fumes.”

“You’ve never shared a bathroom with Raph,” Mikey quipped, which earned him a stiff slap to the back of the head from his brother. The sound echoed off the glass office blocks surrounding them.

April tried again. “Earth… Performance Firearms?” 

“Ooh, maybe!” Mikey took a shot at a passing bin, netting his empty tub and spoon in one go. “Maybe they were testing those guns on mutants. Which… is still pretty screwed up, honestly.” Then, he happened to glance around. “Hey… is it me, or is it weirdly quiet down this street?”

He suddenly realised that Raph had frozen a few steps behind him. 

“It’s… not Earth Protection Force, is it?”

April and Mikey turned and followed his gaze. 

Beyond the yellow barriers they’d passed up the street - and the Keep Out! signs. Oops. - the entire block looked completely empty, save for a couple of abandoned cars, and, on the other side of the street, a seemingly endless row of white vans. All the same make and model. All with exactly the same logo emblazoned on the side. 

The shutter sounded on April’s phone camera. 

-

Mikey couldn’t honestly be sure whether he was dreaming. Or even, which part of this he was dreaming. Wasn’t he just out in the sunshine, on the street…? His head felt like it was on its own little carousel, except the lights kept fading in and out and the music was distorted and fuzzy. 

Maybe a distraction would help. 

“Where… are we?” 

Man, my voice sounds awful. Drama club are not gonna like that. 

“We’re hiding, Mike. So, like, maybe keep the noise down?”

Hiding. That explains why it’s dark.

He fought his addled brains again to try and work out why they were hiding. 

There was April and Raph, and the strange abandoned street, and… 

… Nothing else. At least, for now.

His chest shuddered again with sharp, hot pain. He tried to stifle a cry, but it didn’t really work, and the sound echoed through the narrow sewer pipe. 

A moment later, Raph’s hand clapped over his mouth. “Hey! Hey. If you stop fidgeting, it won’t hurt so much.”

What didn’t help is that his brain was totally desperate to start crying. He could feel it pressing into his throat, welling up behind his eyes - even his lips were trembling against his brother’s palm. But that would only make it hurt worse. Which made him want to cry more. 

Holding it in was so exhausting. He felt a heavy pull on his eyelids again. 

I want my Dad…

-

“Hey! Look what we have here,” A voice called out. 

It belonged to one of a pair of young men, leaning against the bumper of one of the vans. They wore blue overalls as a kind of uniform, along with cheap, mass-produced baseball caps, all embroidered with the same EPF logo. And in their hands, they held glimmering, space-age looking rifles that glowed an ominous blue. 

The two men bristled, pushing themselves upright and taking a few steps forward, looking for all the world like a couple of John Wayne wannabes as they sized the three teenagers up. 

Mikey stepped forward. Defuse the sitch. Just like you always do.

“Whoa, hey, I’m sorry, are you guys working here?”

“What does it look like, mutant?” The one on the left spat. 

Mikey heard Raph growl under his breath, but he let the insult wash over him. 

“Totally my bad. We didn’t see the signs. Do we need to, like, leave? ‘Cos we can totally leave.”

The second guy chuckled, and for a moment, he got his hopes up. Until the guns trained dead-centre on his chest. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said. “You’re just the kind of freak-show rejects we’re here to look for.”

Reflected in glass walls across the street, he spotted the way his brother was putting himself in front of April. Which didn’t exactly make him feel confident. 

“Your vibes are kinda hostile, dude, not gonna lie. But you don’t need to be! We’re, like, super chill and friendly.” He delved in his pocket and retrieved a little foil-wrapped packet of sweets. “Do you guys like Fruit Gums?”

The weapons hummed ominously. A couple of red dots appeared on the front of his white t-shirt. 

He swallowed thickly.

“Mikey, I don’t think they wanna be friends!” Raph hissed. 

One of the men turned to the other with a nasty smirk. “Hey, Smithy, you think the boss cares if the freaks are dead or alive?”

Smithy shrugged his shoulders. “Only one way to find out.”

Mikey got ready to drop his school bag. 

Fingers tightened on triggers. 

“Mikey! Move!” Raph yelled.

And then, all hell broke loose. 

The second he ran, he heard the window of the building behind him shatter in a spray of shots, and he dived towards the safety of a parked car just a few paces away. Ahead, Raph was already there, shoving April forwards in front of him. The three of them pressed their backs into the cold metal as another glass pane burst into shards, uncomfortably close. 

Their reflections stared back at them in abject terror. 

Mikey pressed himself into his brother’s shoulder as, the next moment, they felt shots hitting the other side of the car. But somehow, they didn't sound quite like bullets.

More like a laser gun! But those aren’t real… right?

“Come out, come out, mutants!” they heard Smithy call in a sing-song voice.

“We wanna be friends, honest!” The other one joined in. 

Raph yelped, clutching at the sides of his head. “This is insane! This is crazy!”

Mikey clung to him. “I can’t believe that didn’t work! Who doesn’t love Fruit Gums?”

“Guys, keep it together!” April hissed. “We gotta get out of here!” Her gaze was fixed on the reflection in the glass-walled building in front of them. 

Mikey followed her gaze, and found a perfect view of their assailants held in the panes. Well, the ones that weren’t broken, anyway. They were slowly approaching, taking their time, as though they knew there was no easy way to escape. He scanned the ground for drain covers, but there weren’t any close enough to dive for. The pavement to either side of them was almost empty of parked cars, or anything else that would offer shelter, and of course, all the buildings were locked up. The broken windows were too high above their heads to climb through, and that was before even considering the jagged teeth of broken glass. 

“We’re gonna have to go that way,” April pointed across to the other side of the street. “Then, we can use the vans as shelter.” 

“Actually, we’re going that way.” Raph regarded April, a strange look in his eyes. “It’s us they want. You’re human. They aren’t gonna care about you.”

April cringed uncomfortably. “What do you-”

“Yes, and!” Mikey nodded along, catching his brother's train of thought. “While we distract them, April, you can go get Donnie and Leo! Get us some backup!”

The EPF men were getting uncomfortably close, now. Mikey kicked off his Nikes and stuffed his backpack under the car. Beside him, his brother did the same. 

April bit her lip, hard. “...Okay, okay, fine. But I’m totally filming this. The people have to see what’s going on here.”

Raph and Mikey stared at her incredulously. 

“And by people, I mean the Police! Obviously! And, I dunno, maybe the City Council, or…” 

The pane of glass in front of them suddenly ruptured and deadly shards rained down. Raph grabbed them both, putting his arms over their heads.

The second the stinging rain fell silent, Mikey gave them both a shove. “Time to move!” 

The next few moments were a bit of a blur. He was vaguely aware of the sharp pain in his bare feet as he scrabbled over sharp pieces, then he took a flying, twisting leap over the roof of the car, landing gracefully in the centre of the tarmac road. Raph appeared beside him a moment later, leaving April to beat a hasty retreat, back the way they’d come, her phone clutched in her hand. 

The EPF guys didn’t see her. Instead, they trained their weapons on the turtle brothers and opened fire. 

Turns out, it really was some kind of laser, after all.

Neat!

He and Raph split up in a practiced manoeuvre. He threw in a few of his most acrobatic flips, because there was no way a blast could hit something that fly. Raph was weaving side-to-side, keeping his feet firmly on the ground, taking the longer route around the men’s other flank and splitting their fire. 

And honestly, it probably helped that their aim was terrible. Blackened scars peppered the vehicles around them. 

Mikey launched himself upward, snatched a hold, and clambered onto the roof of one of the vans, getting himself a better view of the landscape.

He was just in time to watch his brother dodge left, then right, then tackle both men to the ground in one go, landing a few fierce punches on Smithy as he did. 

But the other guy recovered himself quickly, getting to his knees and aiming straight for Raph’s head, point-blank. 

Mikey grabbed the fruit gums from his pocket and threw them. 

Scored a direct hit to the back of the head. 

The guy span and fired on him. 

The next moment, he was face-down on the pavement.

-

“Mikey? Mikey, you in there?” He was vaguely aware of something tapping his forehead. Raph was whispering urgently. “Don't do this to me, man. I can't keep losing you like this.”

“I’m… sorry,” he managed to wheeze. 

“Just… try to stay awake, okay?”

“I mean… I'm sorry… about earlier.”

Raph needed a moment to catch up. “...Are you kidding me? Mike, there’s nothing to be sorry for. You saved my bacon, bro.”

He frowned a little. “I… did?”

“If you hadn’t distracted that guy, he woulda shot me in the head. Which probably would have done more than just hurt, not gonna lie.”

I… saved him.

That familiar feeling was back in his throat. A tear broke free and scurried down Mikey’s cheek. 

It's so worth it, but… this really hurts.

“Am… I gonna die?”

Raph took a moment before letting out a breathy chuckle. “Geez, I hope not. I’d be in so much trouble with Leo. Not to mention Dad.”

He wanted to laugh at that. He really did. And if Raph was joking around, then it couldn't be that bad. But instead, the humour squeezed his chest into a painful sob, and he buckled forward, pressing one hand against his bruised plastron and lifting the other to muffle his mouth as his brain finally got what it wanted. 

“Aw, no, Mikey, don’t… don’t do that.” 

But he couldn’t help it. Once they started, the tears just wouldn’t stop. It was all he could do to stay as quiet as possible. 

I could have died. Raph could have died. We might never have seen our family again. 

“C’mon, man,” Raph tried to soothe with an awkward pat to his shell. “You know if you start, I start…”

That made him pause, just for a moment. “That’s… not a th-thing anymore,” he whimpered. 

“You’d think so, right?” Raph leaned forward and rested his chin on the edge of Mikey’s shell. But he couldn't tell if the tears dropping onto the skin of his neck were his brother's or his own. 

“... I wish I’d seen that guy before you did.” 

Mikey deflated slightly. “It’s not your fault, bro…” 

The silence dragged out between them, and it was a while before Mikey realised his eyes had dried up. And somehow, sitting forward like this, his chest hurt a little less, and he could get a full breath, which helped his spinning head. With his brother resting like a weighted blanket against his shell, he wondered if this really was the worst day ever, after all. 

“...Do you really still cry when I cry?”

“No. And if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll break your face.”

“Yeah, okay. Sure thing, bro.” His voice dripped with mocking. 

Raph shoved him in the back of the head for that. His bruising screamed in protest, and he yelped, loud enough to scatter some rats, somewhere further down the pipe. 

The silence that came after was deafening. 

“...Sorry,” Raph breathed. 

But it was too late. The sound of frantic splashing caught their ears. Then, came voices. Mikey pressed himself into his brother, even though it hurt him, as though making themselves smaller would help them to hide. He could feel the growl bubbling through Raph’s chest, and the tension firming up his muscles. 

Torchlight blazed across the end of the narrow sewer pipe. With a jolt, Mikey realised that Raph must have dragged him quite a way, all by himself, just to try to keep them both safe. 

His chest throbbed. He bit his tongue. This could be it. 

“It came from down here!” The echoing voice distorted as it rang through the tubes, but it was unmistakable. He heard the breath rush into Raph’s lungs. 

“Donnie!” 

Joy surged through him like a tidal wave, taking his breath away. 

Meanwhile, the wavering torchlight froze. 

“...Raph?” 

“Down here, Don!”

The relief was almost too much. 

It’s alright. 

It’s going to be alright. 

He could feel himself beginning to shake. 

A few more splashes, and their brother’s strained face appeared at the pipe entrance. 

A moment later, Leo was there. 

And then April, too. “Guys!” she cheered. “You’re okay!”

But there was a darkness dragging at Mikey now, flickering into his vision. 

They’re here. 

It’s alright now. 

We’re safe. 

Dimly, he was aware of Raph shouting his name, but the stars were crowding into his vision now, so that he couldn’t make out the panic in his brother's faces. 

But it’s alright. It’s alright now. 

We’re safe. 

It’s not the worst day ever.