Chapter Text
Somehow, Leonardo thinks he is dead.
Or, well, he should be dead. He clearly remembers getting hit with one of the cannon blasters from the Kraang after he shoved Casey – Casey Jones Jr., son of beloved and brave and stubborn Cassandra Jones, their last hope – through the portal that Michelangelo had created.
Michelangelo, his little brother, the mystic master, his sweet, cheerful, ever hopeful little brother.
Leonardo’s heart hurts.
But he’s still floating. Streaks of colors pass over him like aurora borealis, swirling like a vortex. He can hear faint whispers all around him. Is this what the afterlife looks like? Honestly, he expected more. Perhaps some pearly gates or a torii to pass through to mark his transfer over to the spirit world. He had been looking forward to seeing all the ones he’s lost again. The wink that Michelangelo had given him…it was more of a “See ya later!” than an actual goodbye.
Is he…unworthy of even seeing his loved ones again?
The thought makes him want to cry. But he guesses, that must be his penance for plunging their broken world into that fucked up chaos in the first place. He had been so stupid. He can feel his throat closing up with grief, but…oh well. So be it, huh? It would’ve been nice to at least see a glimpse of everyone – to make sure they’re safe, happy. But…he probably just needs to trust the process.
So, Leonardo keeps floating. The colors keep circling, pretty shades glittering like a meteor shower. The whispers tell stories from faraway worlds – their words are jumbled and hushed, intelligible yet soothing, lulling him into a weirdly peaceful state of half sleep. Distantly, in the back of his mind, he wonders if Casey made it. Somehow, just thinking about the boy and his burning spirit makes his chest swell with pride.
Yes. Yes, Casey will make it. He knows it. Casey will save their past. He will be able to amend Leonardo’s mistake and avoid plunging another world into a losing war. He knows it. He just knows. And that’s enough for Leonardo. He can make peace with being condemned to remain in a state of limbo forever.
But, even farther in the back of his mind, he briefly thinks about how the colorful vortex reminds him of his portals. And just as he muses over the thought, gravity seems to take hold of him.
“Huh? Wha– whoa!” His yelp continues into a long stream of profanities, for which no doubt Raphael would’ve had his head for, but he can’t help it. Gone is the floating feeling, now he’s just falling like a bag of rocks towards…huh, where would he even fall? He doesn’t know, but honestly, the fall itself is what freaks him out more than his destination of possibly going splat like a turtle pizza.
The vortex narrows around him, the whispers disappearing in a rush of noise Leonardo can’t identify over his continuous screaming and swearing. Spirits, how long is he going to keep falling? Lightning crackles around him and ozone fills his nostrils as the swirling colors suck him down, down, down–
Leonardo lands hard on a grainy, unforgiving surface.
The impact punches all air out of his lungs, even with his plastron and carapace absorbing most of the shock. His scream sputters out into rough coughs and wheezes and for a few seconds, he allows himself to just lie there. Everything swims before his eyes. The smell of ozone still lingers, making him vaguely dizzy when the muffled noise suddenly becomes clearer.
The sound of cars and people filter into his ears. Irritable honks echo, mingling with raucous laughter of passing humans and somewhere nearby, some cats hiss at each other. Leonardo hasn’t heard that particular cacophony of noise in a long, long time. Yet, he recognizes it immediately – New York.
Oh, how he missed the unrepentant noise of this never-sleeping city.
He tries to sit up, only to faceplant straight back onto the concrete when he tries to use his right arm. Crap, the cannon must’ve obliterated his prosthetic–
He pushes himself to his knees with his left arm in such a rush, vertigo overtakes him for a second. But it’s nothing compared to the cold sweat that breaks out on his skin. The cannon. The vortex. Limbo. Casey.
Leonardo breathes harshly. He should be dead. He should be meeting up with his brothers and father and friends in the afterlife by now, so why is he–
A rhythmic drumming sound buzzes in his ears, and it takes Leonardo a moment to realize that it’s his heart, beating so fast in his chest it almost shakes his entire body. Why is he here, why is he here, why is he here – he’s supposed to be dead . Dead. Dead. Dead.
Another car honks and he flinches violently. Suddenly, all the noise is too much. He whips his head around – he’s in a dark alley, lined with dumpsters and garbage cans. There’s graffiti on the walls, but he has no idea what they say, his head is still spinning too much. He needs to calm down, he knows he does but…cyan lightning crackles over his skin and the smell of ozone rises again. Leonardo digs his fingers into the asphalt beneath him, trying to ground himself. He thinks of the vortex and whispers and the war cannon aiming straight at him, dousing him in the red-hot disintegrating laser that should’ve killed him–
Something kicks in, instincts maybe, because all he can think about is his survival training; hide, take shelter, regroup, recuperate and try again. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere calm . He swallows down the bile that’s started rising in his throat and pushes himself up to his feet. His legs tingle like they’ve been asleep, the feeling of a thousand needles buzzing just beneath his skin make his gait unsteady. He must look another level of pathetic right now.
Blindly, he searches for the handle of his katana, nearly sobbing with relief when he feels the bands of his brothers’ masks between his fingers. He stumbles sideways, bumping into the wall, and he decides to just drag himself alongside it. He feels off kilter without the added weight of his prosthetic. His vision still swims and Leonardo tells himself that he cannot pass out right now, he simply just can’t, not until he’s found shelter.
Hide. Find shelter. Regroup. Recuperate. Try again.
He finds himself dragging himself across some graffiti that seems heart-achingly familiar, and he narrows his eyes in hopes to recognize it better, vision doubling and un-doubling itself at a dizzying rate. And despite the unreliable picture, the recognition hits him like a truck; it’s the mural to the Run of the Mill Pizza.
Leonardo’s mind flashes back to Señor Hueso, one of his many smug smiles on his bony face. He knew the smile was meant with great affection, as he was pulled away from the yokai, leaving him to deal with the less than merciful war clans, that refused to join the resistance. Hueso had promised to find a solution, to talk them out – he never came back. Leonardo had a feeling Hueso knew it too and was just buying them time.
Leonardo reaches out towards the mural – what year is it. Where exactly is he? The mural wavers, like the surface of a calm pond being disturbed, and he falls through. Warm atmosphere welcomes him and it’s so achingly familiar, for a moment Leonardo forgets how to breathe. The pizzeria still looks the same, all warm and cozy with a distinct Latin-American flair, and the speakers even play the same tunes of Bossa nova that Hueso used to hum under his breath.
Some patrons nearby regard him with a few odd looks before turning back towards their actual conversations. Leonardo’s heart still hasn’t calmed down; in fact, his breath had gotten just as bad. Everything is the same still. Everything still stands like it did before- before-
What year is it?
Somewhere close by, a plate crashes to the floor. The sound of the porcelain shattering has Leonardo locate the origin wildly, only to freeze.
“S-Sensei…?”
With shards at his feet, Casey Jones Jr. stares back at him with wide, wide eyes. He looks…different. The same and yet. He seems cleaner, calmer. The tense line of his shoulders Leonardo used to feel guilty of isn’t there anymore, and so is his gear. Instead, he’s wearing clothes fit for a teenager. A teenager with a safe, normal life. His mask seems to have been replaced by a gray beanie, his cape, and armor by an off-white long sleeve with an olive shirt and brown cargo shorts, his steel-toed boots with scuffed sneakers. He looks like one of those human teenagers goofing off in the skate parks that Leonardo used to watch from the safety of shadows back in his childhood.
But what really gets to him is the Hamato family crest emblazoned on Casey’s shirt on the left side of his chest. Logically, he knows that it won’t confirm anything, but he can’t help this massive wave of relief crashing over him – Casey made it.
“Sensei?” Casey calls again, less hesitant now. His dark brown eyes take on a distinct shine, and his next words seem choked. “Uncle Leo…? Are you– Is that really–?”
The familiar tap of dress shoes against wood. “Chico, what’s the hold up?” Hueso – very much alive – inquires, holding a tray of pizza, before he follows Casey’s watery gaze. Leonardo vaguely registers how the yokai does a brief double take. “Pepino? How– wait, no. You’re not– pepino!” His second call is much sharper, clearly meant to get attention, because not a second later, a very, very familiar face shows up.
“You rang?” Leonardo hears his own, much younger voice drawl as his younger counterpart swaggers into view. He’s got a cocky grin on his face, settling a hand on Casey’s shoulder before he takes note of Leonardo.
And then does an even bigger, more dramatic double take than Hueso. “What the hell?!”
Leonardo’s vision tunnels. All sound shuts down, becoming muffled background noise like TV static as he reaches for his katana. Rage builds in his chest, low clicking hisses emanating from deep within his throat. The world still spins, his legs still full of pins and needles, but he doesn’t care. All he can think of is, “This is your fault.” as he charges at his younger self.
Your fault, your fault, your fault, stupid, reckless, egoistical, never fucking thinks before he acts, his fault, his fault, MY FAULT–
“Uncle Leo, don’t!”
Casey’s panicked voice breaks through the static, just as Leonardo towers above his younger self, who appears completely off guard. In near slow-motion, he’s raising his arms to create some sort of barrier, as if he isn’t concerned that Leonardo can just slice right through them. There’s movement behind him, and the flash of familiar colors distract Leonardo for a second.
The surprised faces of his brothers – younger, healthier, alive – greet him. Leonardo’s heart squeezes, and it’s then that his body decides that’s enough.
The world goes sideways, he hardly feels it when he crashes onto the floor. In fact, everything grows steadily darker, and the last thing he sees is Casey’s blurry figure hastily kneeling down before him.
Leonardo should be dead.
When Leonardo wakes, he thinks he’s still dreaming when he sees the old yet familiar ceiling of the med-bay in the lair. Like many other rooms, the med-bay had been an aged subway wagon that they refurbished into what essentially looked like a mini-clinic. Leonardo remembers he had been over the moon when they finished it; Donatello got to have his lab and Leonardo his very own med-bay.
For a moment, he wonders when he had given up on being the team medic, too busy trying to keep people alive by giving them time to run as he confronted the Kraang.
He inhales deeply and closes his eyes for a second. He should be happy, really. He’s alive and in a whole other timeline where the whole invasion either didn’t happen or…was defeated. He exhales quietly and makes the move to sit up.
Everything aches. He grits his teeth against the onslaught of pain screaming from his previously wounded side. Leonardo glances down and sees the clean bandages neatly wrapped around his middle, and feels his right stump move on instinct to try to prod it. Well. Back to being one-armed it is.
Gingerly, he slips off the bed, his toes making contact with the cool floor as he stands, only to reach back with his left arm to brace himself against the bed. Vertigo overtakes him, and he silently prays that he won’t throw up – as far as he remembers, he’s already made a pretty shoddy first impression on his younger self. Spirits, this is too weird. Despite the space-time-conundrum, he takes a moment to gather himself. He should probably leave. Suss out the situation, get a clear understanding where – or when – he is, and then leave. To where, he has no idea yet. At this point, he’s just fine with winging the whole thing.
Taking a deep breath, Leonardo steels himself and takes the first step. Then, the door slides open.
Oh, what rotten luck.
Doubly so, when he sees who’s visiting him. And despite all his training, all the practice of keeping a stone-cold facade, his breath hitches when Splinter enters the med-bay.
The old rat still looks the same as Leonardo remembers him; gray fur, now being speckled with increasing white spots, long wiry whiskers that twitch attentively, all cloaked in his brown robe. Leonardo bets he still gives the warmest, softest hugs known to mankind. Those yellow eyes Leonardo never forgot twinkle with the shine of both wisdom and something always akin to bittersweet melancholy – his dear old dad had never managed to shake off his past. However, he had told them a long time ago, that despite not being able to fully let go, it had hurt a little less each day.
Splinter watches him carefully, a tray with a single cup of tea between his paws. Leonardo tries to concentrate on the rising steam from the porcelain, but his mind screams and wails at the fact he gets to see his father again. So instead, he stares.
“Oh…” the rat sighs then, a weak smile on his face as his ears wilt. “Oh, my baby-blue.”
Leonardo nearly breaks then and there. But he keeps an iron grip on his self-restraint and straightens himself, ignoring the sting in his side as he bows.
“Master Splinter,” he greets, almost impressed by the fact that his voice isn’t wavering like he feared it would. “I’m sorry for barging in– like. Barging into your timeline? I– I can explain.” He really can’t, but that isn’t the point.
Splinter only raises a hand. “Don’t worry, Casey has brought us up to speed.” He turns to deposit the tray onto a cart, before folding his hands into the sleeve of his robe. Leonardo can feel those yellow eyes look him up and down as he straightens up again. Splinter takes a step closer, craning his short neck to be able to look Leonardo in the face. Melancholy dances on his features, but the rat smiles nonetheless.
“Look at you, you’ve gotten so tall, Leonardo.” The soft usage of his name almost makes Leonardo stumble. He hasn’t heard it from his father’s mouth in a long, long time. A familiar burn starts to prickle within his eyes, so he starts blinking in order to quell the itch, pressing his lips together, so his mouth won’t wobble. He isn’t sure why he’s trying – he knows that Splinter knows.
His father always knew everything.
Splinter steps even closer, lifting a hand from within the confines of his sleeves. Like a magnet, Leonardo bends down, so his dad can cup the side of his face. Gently, the old rat rubs his thumb into his cheek, just below his mask, over his red markings. Splinter’s sad little smile falls, and he tugs down the blue mask over Leonardo’s face.
“But,” he says softly, “you look so tired, my son.”
Leonardo can’t help it anymore. He crumbles, face scrunching up as he presses into his father’s hand, letting the burn in his eyes take over. His knees give out, sobs scratching at his throat as his shoulders shake. For a moment, he lets go – no more stone-cold facades, no more iron control, just him, now feeling 16-years-old all over again, and his father, who guides his head into the crook of his neck. Soft fur and whiskers tickle his scales as Leonardo cries his heart out, left arm looping around the short rat to hold him close, like it hasn’t done so in decades.
When was the last time he cried? He doesn’t remember.
“I’m sorry,” he manages to press out between his sobs, “I’m sorry, Dad, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t– I didn’t keep them safe, I didn’t– this is all my fault, if I hadn’t–!”
Splinter shushes him, a warm hand rubbing up and down on the back of his head. “You did the best you could, my son.”
Leonardo shakes his head, effectively rubbing his snot and tears into his dad’s shoulder. “But– But, Dad, I– I let them die, I let everyone die–!”
Suddenly, short arms envelop his neck, crushing him further into Splinter’s fur.
“You did no such thing.” Splinter’s voice is quiet. There’s a slight tremble in it and the hug tightens further. “You didn’t let them do anything, Leonardo. You were trying so hard to save a dying world, even as it took everything you loved.” He pulls back and Leonardo sees dark tear tracks dampening the fur beneath his father’s eyes. Warm hands with calloused palms cup his face.
“But it is over now,” Splinter tells him, yellow eyes wet with the fresh shine of tears. But determination burns within them. “It is over, you can rest, my son, you can rest.”
A new wave of tears rolls over Leonardo’s cheeks. When was the last time he actually had a rest? There had been no time – there was a resistance to build, people to save, a war to fight, people to bury . The only rest Leonardo ever imagined getting was when he inevitably ended up dead. He had been dead. He should be dead.
Instead, he cries in the arms of his father from the past as the last child standing. The last son, now utterly alone in a world that isn’t his own anymore.
Leonardo wakes to the world once more, feeling disoriented and very, very emotionally exhausted. He blinks, trying to ground himself as his consciousness just seems to float off a few feet above him. He finds his anchor in the low sound of humming next to him. Turning his head, he finds Splinter situated on a chair next to his bed, expertly slicing up an apple and giving them bunny ears. The sight itself is almost enough for Leonardo to cry again, but it seems like his tear ducts have pretty much dried up for the next few hours, just like his mouth.
Leonardo smacks his lips slightly, trying to wet the inside of his mouth with his tongue. “How long was I out?” he asks groggily, voice raspy, and he gratefully takes the cup of water his father offers him.
“A few hours,” Splinter tells him as he drinks, suddenly feeling parched. “Whatever the circumstances of your journey here were, it left you very exhausted. Not to mention your injuries; before your impromptu nap, you’ve been sleeping for almost two days.”
Leonardo nearly chokes. “No wonder I feel so hungry,” he tries to joke, giving the empty cup back to the rat, who regards him with a vaguely amused look.
“That’s why I’m here,” he says, presenting the plate full of bunny apples with flourish. “Daddy knows that all baby-blues across all universes love their apple slices! But only if they have bunny ears.”
The grown turtle laughs – short and wheezy for now, as he picks up one of the apple slices. For a moment, he looks at it fondly; yeah, just like his dad used to make them. “I probably told you a million times before,” Leonardo muses before taking a bite. “They just taste better like that.”
“So you keep telling me,” Splinter chuckles, placing the plate on Leonardo’s lap. As he folds his hands back into his sleeves, he seems to sober up. “Leonardo. How…how are you feeling?”
For a second, Leonardo's surprised. He’s aware of what exactly his father is asking. He takes his time with chewing, mulling over the words in his head before he swallows. How is he feeling? One second he thought he’s gonna bite the dust, the next he’s floating in some rainbow vortex, which he assumed was his allotted time in limbo, before it spat him out into a completely different point in time and space. A point in which the Kraang Invasion apparently never happened and where all his loved ones are alive and well and safe .
Then there’s also the distinct knowledge that he is probably the only survivor of his own timeline.
So, how does he feel?
“I…” Leonardo begins and falters immediately. “I don’t know.”
He feels stupid saying it out-loud. Shouldn’t he be grateful to be alive? To get a second chance? Perhaps he shouldn’t get his hopes up too soon – whatever happened to him, it could be just a temporary thing, a glitch in the time-space continuum. But he’s already been here for nearly two days. He doesn’t want to think about it.
Splinter warm, wrinkled hand pats his shoulder reassuringly, effectively bringing him out of his thoughts. “Don’t sweat it, baby-blue. You just had an eventful day, well, life behind you.” His smile is soft and encouraging. “I’m sure we can discuss the details later, when we’ve all calmed down.”
Leonardo manages a weak grin. “Did they freak?”
His father barks a loud laugh. “Freak? They went bonkers! Pretty much lost their minds for a full five minutes before someone even thought about picking you up off the floor!” Splinter cackles and Leonardo winces slightly. He hopes he didn’t get any blood on Señor Hueso’s floor. “Future Boy had been ready to carry you to our home all on his own before Red intervened.”
This makes Leonardo perk up. “Casey?” He leans forward urgently. “How is he? How long–” He’s interrupted by Splinter lifting his hand, amused smile on his face.
“He’s fine, Leonardo.” The rat’s face turns solemn. “It’s been two months since the Invasion. April’s family have taken him in – he’s adjusting, but you know. It has its ups and downs. He’s been studying hard to gain his GED, he’s even been thinking about joining a school.”
The thought of Casey, who Leonardo used to hold so much when he was a toddler, going to high school and getting an education like any other normal teenager…Leonardo swallows hard to choke down a watery laugh.
“That’s good, that’s–” he stops momentarily to rub at his eyes. Casey gets to have a real, peaceful future – Cassandra would’ve loved that. “That’s good. He deserves it.”
Splinter sends him a smile and Leonardo starts to eat the apple slices again, not minding the browning spots that have formed when he had been distracted. He’s halfway through another slice, when something hits him.
“Wait– two months?!” Splinter startles at his sudden yell. Leonardo looks at his father with wide eyes and apple-stuffed cheeks. “The Invasion has been over for two months?! Why the hell am I here then?”
“Well,” Splinter begins, idly scratching at his chin. “We don’t know either – Purple is already looking into it, hasn’t even been sleeping lately. You know how he gets.”
Oh, how Leonardo does. He remembers how Donatello would lock himself in his lab for days after every new discovery to get any and every available answer out of it. Sometimes it took Leonardo to portal into the lab to harass his twin into actually getting some semblance of sleep.
Groaning a little, he rubs the ridge of his brows. What a right mess this all is. Nonetheless, he eventually huffs out a small chuckle – he doesn’t know the time exactly, but he estimates that the niggling feeling of being watched has persisted for well over ten minutes now. So, he eats the last apple slice and then calls out; “Isn’t this a bit of a boring conversation to eavesdrop on?”
There’s a short squeak and Splinter’s ears flicker briefly in surprise. Slowly, dark sea-green fingers tug the minuscule crack of the not-so-closed carriage door open and big, carmine eyes peek into the room. Leonardo can’t help the small waver in his voice as he smiles.
“Hey, Mikey.”
Honestly, Mikey didn’t expect to get caught.
He’s a ninja! He’s got the skwills! The moves! All the realness! And yet, this older, tired-looking – so tired – version of his brother sniffed him out so easily. He hadn’t even made a sound, trust! He’d just been too curious, even though he knows that his dad said to leave Leo – Leonardo? – be to rest. And now…how can he say No to this earnest, near heartbreaking look of both relief and affection in this guy’s eyes.
So, feeling uncharacteristically shy like he was a toddler hiding behind his big brothers’ legs all over again, Mikey slinks into the med-bay and scuttles up to the bed Leonardo is resting in. Carefully gauging his reaction, he kneels onto the end of the bed, his eyes never straying from this future version of his brother.
“…hi,” he greets back. “Leo…nardo?”
Leonardo snorts. “I guess that’s one way to keep us apart, huh?” He lifts one ridge of his brows playfully, a small smirk on his face. Like this, he suddenly looks a lot more like Leo.
“You’re so big!” Mikey blurts out then. “Did I get this tall too?” That gets him a laugh – it sounds good. Mikey grins at that, catching his father’s grateful gaze.
“You did get taller,” Leonardo confirms with a crooked smile, “but you’re still the shortest, sorry.”
“Dang it!”
“But,” the elder turtle continues, “you did gain the ability to float so, technically? You could be the tallest.”
Mikey pumps his fists in victory. “Oh, yes, baby! In your face, Raph! And he always thought I’ll stay short, so he can baby me forever!”
Leonardo rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Oh, he’ll do that even when you’re grown up, trust me.”
“Aw, man!”
Splinter chortles. “Oh, good! You will remain the family baby, I am very happy about that.”
Mikey whines, scooting closer to both his father and Leonardo. “But Daaaaaaad! I can’t stay the baby forever, you know that!”
“I live in denial, my son.” Splinter pointedly takes a sip of his tea, that had been resting beside him. Leonardo chuckles, already lifting his hand towards Mikey. He lets him approach, and he can feel thick fingers softly scratching the top of his head – just like Splinter used to do when he was a kid. Mikey tilts his head, leaning into the relaxing sensation, when the fingers disappear, only to feel them scritching the underside of his chin a second later.
“Whoa– hah!” Mikey can’t help but fidget and laugh at the surprisingly ticklish feeling. He scrunches his eyes shut as he giggles and shakes, playfully pawing at Leonardo’s arm to get him to stop. “What the heck, I didn’t know I was ticklish there!” He says as Leonardo lays off with his own laugh.
“Wanna know a secret?” The elder asks him with a wide grin – he looks a lot younger with it. Mikey nods eagerly. “All of you are. Wanna get out of one of Raph’s lectures fast? Just go for the chin.”
“Oh, I’ve got to try that!” Mikey laughs, grinning as those calloused fingers softly pinch his cheek. When he doesn’t receive any answer, he looks up at Leonardo’s face.
The elder regards him with quiet fascination, faintly outshone by the unending melancholy swimming within his eyes. It makes Mikey’s heart ache, so he tilts his head into the hand now cupping his face. A thumb rubs softly just beneath his eye.
“I forgot how small you used to be…” Leonardo confesses quietly. Mikey sees him fighting the faint quiver in his lips. For a moment, he wonders when was the last time the poor guy saw his brothers. According to Casey, his own future version perished in order to create the time gate. Right before Leonardo’s eyes, under his orders.
Mikey wonders how hard his heart had shattered then.
But by the look Leonardo is giving him, he knows. He knows it had killed him.
“Would you like a hug?” Leonardo looks surprised at the offer, the wet sheen over his eyes not dissipating. Then, he smiles – or tries to.
“I’d love that, yeah.” His voice is thick with emotion, so Mikey wastes no time in scooting closer to throw his arms around Leonardo’s neck, holding him close. He can feel him tremble slightly, his one arm easing around Mikey’s shell to keep him close.
Beneath his fingertips, Mikey feels all the knicks and scrapes in Leonardo’s shell, hidden underneath the ratty blue scarf he’s wearing. He’s hugged Leo a dozen and more times before, but this hug feels different. Maybe because this Leo is so much taller, much broader. Maybe because this Leo is missing an arm and can’t crush him against his plastron like he usually would, cackling when Mikey would start to whine about being smothered. Maybe because this Leo gently cups the back of his head like he’s made of glass, like he’s about to shatter. Like he’s about to disappear.
Mikey tightens his grip, his own mouth wobbling at the thought. He peeks over Leonardo’s shoulder to look at his dad with big, sad eyes. Splinter’s smile is a small, equally sad thing.
For a moment, they just breathe, holding each other. Despite the bitter-sweetness of it all, Mikey thinks the hug is nice, comfortable, warm. A wonderful mix of Leo’s warmth, Raph’s protection and Donnie’s softness. He snuggles closer, rubbing his cheek against the side of Leonardo’s face with a happy chirrup. This guy gives good hugs!
Leonardo trembles again, but this time it’s from laughter. Mikey feels him shift and suddenly, there’s a distinct sniffing noise. “Oh spirits, are you still stealing my axe body spray?”
The somber atmosphere clears at Leonardo’s disbelieving snort. Mikey only giggles as the elder pulls away, looking a little less sad with his amused grin. “Man, I used to think I was so cool for wearing that stuff like in those commercials.”
Mikey laughs. “For the record! Leo still thinks he’s so cool for wearing it.”
“Good lord,” Leonardo groans before poking Mikey in the side. “So why are you wearing it?”
“Cuz I like it!”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Seriously serious! Like, seriously!”
The elder turtle’s shoulders bounce with his chuckles as he shakes his head in disbelief. Meanwhile, Mikey sits close to him, legs basically in the other’s lap as he grins.
“Ah, you know,” Splinter pipes up again, smiling over his tea. “Teenagers.”
“Tell me about it,” Leonardo sighs. He still looks tired, but now, he’s smiling. Mikey counts it as a win. “So, how’d you think they will react when I have a proper conversation with them.”
Mikey hums. “They’ll try to act all cool and suspicious, but, you know. Donnie’s probably close to breaking these doors down just to interrogate you about the science-y stuff. Raph too, but he’ll just hug you until you can’t breathe anymore.” He taps his chin in thought. “Leo will act all nonchalant, but I know he’s low-key miffed that you tried to attack him back at Hueso’s.”
Leonardo cringes. “Oh, yeah. That.”
“This sounds like a job for Doctor–!”
“No Doctor Feelings, please.”
Mikey pouts.
“We’ll discuss everything in time, Michelangelo,” Splinter says. “For now, let us let Leonardo have a rest and some time to adjust. Things aren’t what they used to be here.”
“Mmh, okay,” Mikey replies, drumming his fingers on top of his knee pads in thought. His eyes keep straying to Leonardo’s throat – vertical yellow stripes climb from the edges of his plastron up over his chin, stopping at his mouth, giving it the appearance of a goatee. It makes him wonder how much older Leonardo really is. “I think we should call Draxum. Maybe he can help?”
Splinter makes a brief face at the mention of Draxum. But he sighs in a way that Mikey knows he’s got permission. “Fine. I’m sure he’ll have some dusty old book lying around that will have some useful information for us.”
Leonardo chuckles. “Actually, it would be great to see that old goat again.”
Mikey and Splinter are surprised at that.
“Really?” Mikey asks. “Leo’s still a lil resistant when it comes to Barry.”
The elder waves his hand around. “Eh, he’ll get over it. I did.”
“Easy for you to say!” Mikey pokes Leonardo’s – also covered in scars – plastron. “You of all people should know how stubborn he is. Or you. You are him! You know! Augh!”
“Okay, I think that’s enough for now.” Splinter sets down his tea – it hits the table with a sort of finality. He hops off the chair he’d been occupying, folding his hands into his sleeves once more as he turns to Leonardo. “Rest, my son. You need it. It’s getting late anyway. Orange, what’s for dinner?”
Mikey feels himself getting excited, and he lifts his arms to cheer. “Oh! Oh! Vegetable risotto! It’s a new recipe!”
“That sounds great, little one,” Leonardo tells him genuinely as he smiles tiredly. Mikey feels his hand rubbing his head again, and he chirps happily.
“I’ll leave some for you too! That way you can also get a taste!”
“Oh, I’ll probably be asleep by then.”
Mikey shakes his head. “Don’t care! I’ll put it in the fridge, so you can eat it later.”
Leonardo laughs, soft and tired. “Okay, I promise to eat it as soon as I’m awake.”
Mikey cheers, pushing himself off the bed with an acrobatic flip. “I’m gonna start cookin’ then! Let’s go, Dad!”
“Yes, yes,” Splinter says good-naturedly, following after his youngest, but not before patting Leonardo on the leg.
“Sleep now, my son. We’ll be here when you wake.”