Whumptober: Oh, Breathe Without Me (Under Pressure)

Whumptober: Oh, Breathe Without Me (Under Pressure)

A/N: Oh look, a song verse as a title (Wozwald by Yuu Miyashita)

-----------------------------

Leonardo tested the door first, then signaled to his brothers that it was alright as he slid the door open just enough for him to creep in and duck into a hiding place. His family followed suit and disappeared into the shadows, hiding from prying eyes, invisible if you didn’t already know that they were there.

The building itself that they were “breaking into” was a large, multi-tier warehouse that Raphael reported seeing Purple Dragons at when he was with Casey. He said that they looked like they were taking only specific crates, and it was decided upon with unanimous vote that it was worth checking out, since the new leader of the street gang had been willing to step things up quite a bit.

“So, here’s the plan,” Leonardo whispered, “Raph and Donnie will take this level, look around for any gang members and see if they can learn anything or see what they’re taking. Me and Mikey will go to the top level and do the same thing, then we meet midway. Any objections?”

When he received only silence as a response, Leonardo took that as a sign that nobody was against it and began walking over to the staircase, Mikey following close behind.

The two went to the top floor, and worked their way through the whole level, finding a single member moving about, but nothing important or worthwhile, not what they were looking for. Still, they covered the whole floor, making sure that they checked every suspicious object, every nook and cranny, anything that looked fake and could be hiding something.

But they found nothing, so they went to the middle floor to get a headstart on looking there. Leonardo began to grow frustrated, though, feeling that familiar itch. Had they been too late? Had they missed the things that they actually needed to see? What if they missed something that had been really important, and everything was messed up just because of it? He bit back the low growl that threatened to leave him. Calm, he needed to be calm. They weren’t done here yet.

There were a pair of voices, and Leo was obligated to move closer to listen in, as he couldn’t yet make out what they were saying. It was a pair of gang members (finally, something they might be able to use!), leaned up against the wall and speaking in undertones.

“Are we almost done here?” The one to Leonardo’s left grunted. He had a long, winding snake tattoo that started on his snake and roped around his right arm, that Leonardo honestly thought was cool. However, he sounded like he had been chain smoking for years, which would explain the aged look on his face, even though Leonardo estimated that he could only be in his twenties or thirties.

“Almost,” The one to his right responded automatically. In contrast to the one on his left, this member looked a heck of a lot younger. There were no scars, no tattoos, he didn’t look nor sound any older than fifteen. Instead, he had long hair pulled into a tight bun and a few piercings, some of which were shaped like crosses. Huh, he was religious, maybe? “We’re just grabbing the last of things, and then they plan on blowing the place to the high heavens.”

Leonardo froze, exchanging a look with Michelangelo, who looked equally as appalled.

“Really? Won’t that grab us attention as terrorists?”

“Dunno, but the boss don’t care ‘bout that.”

“Huh.”

And then they just left, as if they hadn’t talked about blowing up a building in the middle of a highly populated city, risking probably quite a few civilians’ lives.

Michelangelo looked at him, and Leonardo nodded, understanding what he meant immediately. They needed to tell Donatello and Raphael, and get out as soon as possible, or try to step them from blowing up the building.

They bolted towards the stairs, just as the middle pair were coming up. All four of them ended up retreating back to the middle floor, ducking between crates as Leonardo and Michelangelo passed on what they had learned, earning almost yells and curses.

“We need to find the detonator before they set whatever bombs they have set up,” Leonardo said, stating the obvious. “The member with it is probably outside already, but I did see somebody lingering on the top level, and I think I’m gonna see, just in case. I don’t think they would blow up their own.

Leonardo didn’t want them in the building if it exploded. He was putting them in a potentially dangerous situation, he needed them outside, they couldn’t get hurt there. At least, not too terribly. Maybe from debris, but that would be more manageable then being in the building when it went down.

“Are you sure?” Raphael looked him over, eye ridges furrowed in concern. They were catching on.

“Mhm. I’m going to stay inside for just a minute, I’ll be out soon. Just try and check the people outside. At the very least, make sure that whatever they’re exporting stays here.”

Thankfully, they bought it, leaving him alone in the building. Now he just had to keep going with the act. And yes, he was afraid. No, he was terrified, he knew that he was probably going to die, but it was an occupational hazard, he guessed. They weren't always going to have some form of protection.

Leonardo turned and went upstairs, just in time to hear rapid beeping before a near deafening explosion. Then, everything went dark.

%%%

A splintering pain in his lower back and legs was the first thing, and Leonardo let out a low groan. What happened? Why did he feel like he was getting crushed? Had they fallen asleep in a Turtle Pile again?

Something shifted above him, and dust drifted down lazily. Oh right.

The only thing keeping him from having his skull crushed were some metal rods that creaked and bent under the weight of the concrete. A little movement revealed that his legs were most likely crushed from the boulders, and the only thing keeping his spinal cord from meeting the same fate was his shell, a natural armor he would be eternally grateful for. He struggled a bit, which only elicited protests and screams from his aching body.

Then he then heard people, humans, talking, close enough to feel them stepping over the concrete, but they sounded so far away…

He froze, then retreated into a cracked shell, holding his breath and waiting for them to pass.

“I could’ve sworn I heard somebody over here…”

A few minutes passed, then they moved on, leaving him alone to his misery. While the help would have been appreciated, he couldn’t risk letting humans see him, especially not in a state where he couldn’t move, much less defend himself.

Leonardo thrashed a bit, being careful not to let his shell hit things and make sounds that could draw attention to himself, but was quickly stopped by white hot fire in his arm, like a thousand needles pushed past his scales.

No, apparently that was not going to work.

Leonardo worked his mind for paths out of his situation, trying desperately to seek some way to get out of the hole he dug for himself, and eventually fell asleep. There was nothing he could do in the day, when he was at a higher risk for being seen by humans.

%%%

When he came to, he quickly realized that it was night. Unlike before, there was barely any light streaming through the cracks between the debris, leaving him nearly blind.

Taking hold of the situation, he started struggling. He had to get out, he couldn’t stay there, not when there were people depending on him to come back. By the second, his struggles grew more and more frantic, scrambling at the boulders pushing on his legs and shell to the best of his ability with his limited reach.

But the agony only grew in his fractured arm, pushing him to the point of tears, burning and tearing through his muscle. Him, Leonardo “Supernatural Pain Tolerance” Hamato, crying over a fracture. Shell, now the tears were flowing freely, racing down his face and staining the ground beneath him. Frustration and pain and anger, all mixed together and finally bursting free. How could he have been so stupid?

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but suddenly he was opening his eyes, head resting on his good arm. It wasn’t another day, as far as he knew, since the humans probably would have been working on removing the rubble. It was still dark, he still couldn’t see. The sounds of cars felt distant, although he wasn’t too far from the road, as far as he knew. Had the explosion done something to his hearing? Shoot, was he deaf? Or, at least, almost there? It wouldn’t be too terrible, he didn’t rely on his hearing that much, but. It was still a shocking development-

He couldn’t feel his legs. Frick, he couldn’t feel his legs. He needed to say alert, he needed- He couldn’t start losing then, trapped under cement and at risk all the time. Leonardo clawed at his arm, biting his tongue when it burned, spreading the same agony from before, but the pain was good- The pain was good, pain helped stay alert, he couldn’t lose himself then, couldn’t lose feeling.

Leonardo was loopy, he knew. He was in and out again, a faint blue light of the early morning streaming in. But he heard voices again, so close to him he wanted to cry. He knew the voices that time. His family hadn’t left him, why would they? They came back for him, even if they were risking coming early in the morning, when the humans were waking up. 

He took a shaky breath, then: “Marco.”

The response that came was from Michelangelo, sounding overjoyed in his response and like he had been crying too. “Polo!”

“Marco.”

“Polo- Donnie! Raph! He’s here, I think he’s here!”

The grating and scratching was faint, but the light grew, he could hear them, he could hear them looking, they were trying to dig him out!

“Shoot- Don! I found ‘im!”

Strong arms wrapped around him as the last of the rubble was moved off of him, and slowly pulled him up. Beside him, Raphael growled: “You’re so stupid, Fearless. What were you thinkin’ playing a dang martyr?”

Donatello came running over from where he was a few feet away, a short, strangled sob leaving him.

“Oh my God- Leo! Leo I’m so sorry, we should have come sooner, we should have realized, I- You-”

“Hey,” Leonardo hushed him, struggling a bit in Raphael’s grip although he couldn’t even stand on his own, “It was my fault. My plan.”

“No, you shut up- Raph carry him, we need to be home fast.”

Leonardo bit his tongue to hold back a protest as Raphael smirked and lifted him up bridal style. He noted that the younger was careful not to jostle him too much. He was still being careful.

Once home, Leonardo received a thorough lecture (who would’ve thought?) and a check-up, before being told he needed bed rest, and couldn’t leave. Donatello announced that both his legs were, in fact, broken from the weight on them. His shell was the only reason that he wasn’t paralyzed from the waist down, taking the brunt of the hit. However, from being so close to the explosion, Leonardo was, for the most part, hard of hearing, just as he thought.

For the rest of the night, they all insisted on being close enough to him to smother him, but he wasn’t complaining. It wasn’t like he could run from it, anyway.

Whumptober: I’m Better Off All By Myself (5/5)

A/N: Title from Toxic by BoyWithUke

~~~

Whatever Donatello was expecting, it was not for Leonardo to suddenly collapse like that. By some miracle, he caught the oldest, and noticed a few things. The first was a wound on his shoulder, just a small incision made recently. The second was the sheer amount of scars that littered his brother’s skin, looking more like a canvas drawn on with pastels by a toddler than something blank. The third was how light he was. For giant mutant turtles, they were really heavy, as long as they had been maintaining their health. However, he was worryingly easy to hold after he was caught, even while unconscious.

Raphael reached over on instinct, a little late, but there nonetheless.

"Wait what-"

"What's wrong, Doctor Donnie?" Michelangelo whined.

Donatello fixed his grip on Leonardo to pull him closer. "I've got a few ideas, but let's just get him in the lab for now. Set up a cot."

He shifted Leonardo to rest against his side and Raphael and Michelangelo disappeared. Donatello was assuming that it had to be some kind of exhaustion, definitely severe, but he'd have to be sure.

After laying the oldest down, Donatello stepped away to grab his tools, then returned, giving him a thorough once over. Dear God, what had he been doing in his time away?

"Well," he finally concluded, "I'm sure that he collapsed from severe exhaustion. There are multiple injuries from various sources all across his body, and residue of metal in his shoulder. There's also red marks on his wrists, most likely from restraints. He's been working under severe malnutrition, probably for some time."

Raphael took a sharp breath, Michelangelo's breathing hitched.

Oh well, they had to find out one way or another.

%%%

Leonardo blinked a few times upon waking, trying to gain his bearings. He was laying on a cot, he noticed first. And he was in a lab. Now, was the lab good or bad, and why was he-

"LEO!" Michelangelo launched himself onto Leonardo, wrapping him in a tight hug.

Donatello and Raphael followed shortly after, Raphael taking his hand and holding it tight, Donatello crouching beside him.

"Now, Leo," Donatello started. Oh dear. "I'd love to stay and celebrate, but WHAT THE ACTUAL F-"

Leonardo frowned and elbowed him hard before wrapping his arms around Michelangelo and sitting up.

"What happened? You literally collapsed in front of us!"

He flinched. They were really asking? Already?

Instead of saying something that would probably be more healthy, he smiled and said:

"Donnie, I just got back. Can't we wait?"

All eyes turned to Donatello, some neutral, some pleading, and the doctor huffed, clearly unhappy with this arrangement.

"Fine."

%%%

Leonardo, after he had gotten Donatello to stop asking questions, had been dragged to watch a movie with them for "quality bonding".

Actually, this scene kind of reminded him of-

Walking and walking, all across America. No way to get directions, unable to find home. He wanted to call home, but his phone was probably getting tracked, and he couldn't risk letting them find his home.

Maybe if he got the microchip out and his vitals band off, but he couldn't, not easily.

Back and forth, running and getting attacked, getting found over and over again because they were tracking him.

He had to get that bracelet off. If he could get the bracelet and microchip out and off, he'd be completely off the grid, they'd never find him again.

Leonardo grabbed a brick and slammed it down, over and over. He didn't care when he hit his own skin and busted open flesh, bruising and bleeding. He just needed it OFF. The band continued to wear down until it broke off, it's more delicate bits shattered to pieces. One down, one to go.

He was breathing heavily when he snatched up one of the broken shards, cutting open his shoulder and digging around to find it. His fingers bumped the little metal chip and he latched on, ripping it out, using the very same brick to smash it to pieces.

He was finally-!

Metal scraped against concrete.

They found him again.

"Hey Leo, you’re looking kinda distant, you good?" It was just Michelangelo. He was back.

"Mhm, I’m just gonna go to the bathroom."

Leonardo untangled himself from the pile they had made, excusing himself to the bathroom. After locking the door, he fell back against the tub and let out a short breath. The cold felt nice against hot skin. It helped soothe him.

He felt sick.

There was a roof over his head, he had his family, he was safe, and yet he was still scared. He was worrying them, like an idiot.

Somebody was knocking on the door.

"Hey, Leo? You okay? I'd uh- I'd also like to use the bathroom."

It was just Michelangelo. Nobody else.

Leonardo hurried to his feet, unlocked the door, and threw it open.

"Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to take so long."

%%%

Leonardo skidded in a sharp turn, nearly falling onto his side in the rain. He liked the feeling of the icy rain pelting down on him. It made him calm, it made him feel clean. He liked the cold, but he didn't like-

Thunder, rain washing blood-stained scales. A voice came over comms, startling him out of his thoughts. It was too loud.

"You have your target?"

"Of course."

He always had his target, like it or not. Leonardo released a low breath before slipping into the building. It was one more person, one more civilian. He didn’t know them and he honestly didn’t care to know them. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t see the fear in their eyes before death, the strangled scream that never got to escape, because they were already dead, harsh breathing coming to a stop from an untimely death.

His morals had been lost a long time ago, this only put up walls to prevent them from returning.

It didn’t matter though. He’d do anything as long as they didn’t go looking for his family to hold them at gunpoint and threaten him, or, worse, kill them.

Lightning lit up the sky, revealing silhouettes that waited for him to give them the all clear. He hated this job, hated being a hitman, it went against everything he had believed. But if he needed to, he would train his hands to never let go of the hilt of a sword, always have a weapon or something dangerous on him, prepared to kill anyone at a signal. If he needed to, he would only know blood and death, fear before a killing blow, and darkened skies.

He wasn’t standing in front of a body, covered in blood. He was standing in front of the turnstiles, soaked and too afraid to come in to get a towel because he didn’t want to leave puddles on the floor.

Pathetic.

Raphael paused, letting up the heat on the training dummy for a bit to come and greet him with a towel in hand.

“Where were you?” He rumbled, “We thought you ran off on us so soon after coming back.”

Hardened emerald green eyes, softening with guilt and fear as they were taken away. Wondering, desperate as they looked to the bound hands of their older brother.

Leonardo took the towel. It was soft and warm, like it had just come out of the dryer.

“Sorry, I just wanted to get out, and then it started raining.”

Raphael nodded like he understood. He probably did. Leonardo had seen the hot head leave to blow off steam enough times to know that he definitely did.

Once dry, Leonardo quietly thanked Raphael, took the towel right back to the washing machine, and left to go practice a couple of katas.

The dojo was, thankfully, nothing like-

An eerily silent dojo with a wooden floor that hurt to fall on, so he tried not to. Still, that was hard when he was fighting too many enemies. They wanted him to be able to fight a group, but they had already injured him beforehand and his blood stained the wood red. It was a test, and he was failing.

Somebody knocked him onto his plastron, and suddenly they were all upon him, pinning him down, hands on the edge of his shell to keep good control of him.

Then, by some silent command, they were called off. He was released and exposed to a different kind of pain. Electricity coursed through him from both the chip and his bracelet, hot and agonizing. Leonardo could only whine, too used to this treatment-

Leonardo was not laying on a wooden floor. He was crouched on a tatami mat, silent tears running down his face while somebody rubbed soothing circles on his shell, hushing him.

They… Didn’t ask about why he was crying or what was wrong. They just soothed him and respected his boundaries.

He didn’t think he had ever been more grateful for his family.

Whumptober: That’s Where The Blood’s Supposed To Be

In hindsight, this really wasn't his best plan.

The enemy was kind of like Rocksteady. They were big, sturdy, incredibly strong, and notoriously hard to take down. So, his plan was simple. It was a long abandoned theater. Tall columns, a lot of open space, and nothing that would be missed too terribly once it was. The plan was even simple, for the first time in a very, very long time. They were going to lead the enemy- Chad, as Michelangelo had named him in a creative stump- Into the center of the open theater, then set off the bombs that were attached to the columns. Said columns would then collapse and bury "Chad" underneath. Even if it didn't completely put him out of commission, it would at least immobilize him for a bit.

Of course, it went wrong. The bombs went off on time, and they did get Chad down. However, somehow he completely managed to miss the fact that once the columns went down, so would the rest of the building. The whole place was falling apart, and still they fought. People would die if they didn't.

He got hit. A rather large piece of debris hit Leonardo's shoulder, followed by a loud, reverberating pop. The dislocation was enough to stun him into stillness for just long enough to get hit. Of course he tried to duck out of the way, to move so that he could avoid injury. By the time it registered, though, it was too late.

Leonardo stumbled back, squeezing between two boulders and gripping the side of his hide. Lightning bolts of pain met him, and when he pulled his hand away, he only saw scarlet.

Scarlet was not good.

Chad was outside, working to tear him out of his hiding place, but Leonardo paid him no attention. He only looked at the red dripping from his face, clouding his vision, and trailing outside.

He placed his hand back on the side of his head, placing pressure where there was pain. Pressure was good. Vibrant red was not.

The banging outside stopped. Instead, there were voices. When did the banging stop? His head was spinning and his hand was slipping. Something in the back of his head screamed wrong. He could usually trust his gut. His mind was right. Maybe he would stay where he was until the sound stopped.

But then there were mahogany eyes and a purple mask. Don’t move, they said. Donatello's mouth was moving. It made no sound.

Please.

Donatello pulled his hand away from his head, and his panic spiked momentarily. He needed the pressure, he didn't want to die-

Now the pressure was back, cold and welcoming against the warmth of the blood on his face. Right, the red was blood. Bleeding meant he was injured.

They were outside. When did they get outside? He remembered crawling into that rock shelter with the building falling apart around him. Now he was in front of a pile of rubble, multiple blurs of green fussing over him.

"It's still bleeding!" He caught a glimpse of their conversation, and strained to hear the rest. "We need to get home or in the Shellraiser soon. Somewhere where I have more medical equipment than this!"

It was that bad? He needed to get up or do something to help, but his body wouldn't move, wouldn't respond to his commands.

Leonardo was next under a bright, near blinding light. He could smell chemicals and copper. Copper? Copper was bad. Somebody gripped his hands, whispering apologies and trying to reassure him.

No, not him. They were trying to reassure themselves.

"Not- Your fault," he whispered with a smile. If they needed reassurance, he would give it.

%%%

"This is my fault," Donatello whispered, staring at bandages that were finally staying white.

"It's still bleeding!" He was right, too. The bandages were running out, but they were still turning red. That wound needed to be closed or else it would never stop bleeding.

Well, he finally closed it. It was carefully stitched up, a neat row of black lines along the side of his head.

"Donnie-" Michelangelo started from where he was sitting.

"No, Mikey, listen. I’m the doctor, I’m supposed to make sure that people don't die. He almost bled out and-"

"No-"

Wait what. Wait, what. How was he even talking?

"My plan," Leonardo murmured, still not opening his eyes, "My fault."

"Leo, please don't-"

"'M so tired… Don't blame yourself, mkay? Shoulda seen it comin'."

"Leo, this wasn't your fault, you don't have to see every future that could possibly happen, please-"

His pleading and rambling fell on deaf ears. Sleep was not a good thing when they didn't know what kind of head injury they were looking at.

Whumptober: Lost & Found

Leonardo complied when they dragged him along the halls. He complied when they tried to take a stab at his pride by tripping him and forcing him to ask for help standing.

But then he saw the trunk, the rope, and the black waters, and he pulled to a stop.

"Don't, please don't."

He couldn't bear it, knowing what they were going to do.

"Shut up."

"Please, this isn't-"

Why was he even bothering? This was stupid and degrading, and it wouldn't work anyway. He should have just stopped.

"I said shut up."

"This won't work, y'know. You'll probably kill me."

"It'll be worth it if you die. Get in."

Leonardo stared at the trunk, frozen to the spot. He was not getting in that thing. Not after getting dragged down into the black abyss of the ocean, after almost drowning to save somebody else.

But somebody shoved him, and he went tumbling. "No" wasn't an option. It was dumb to beg. It wouldn't do anything, he should have stopped.

"You're a turtle, right?" One of his captors drawled while he got as comfortable as he could, "You'll be fine! I'm fairly certain you're semi-aquatic."

Then, the top shut, suffocating him in the darkness. He would be fine. He would be fine, he would be fine, he would be fine-

Machinery whirred outside the trunk, and the trunk started dropping. His heart jumped into his throat. The sound of machinery and people faded and muffled, more and more until they were gone, and he was left alone with the sound of his erratic heartbeat.

Leonardo kicked as best he could, but he could barely move in his situation. He was going to die, he was going to die-

He had never feared death before. In fact, he usually welcomed it with open arms.

But this? This was an awful death. This was suffocating alone in the darkness after hyperventilating. If they let him fall far enough, he would be crushed by the water pressure like a soda can.

The trunk did not fall until the water killed him. It settled after a couple seconds of sinking, nestled on the seabed.

That was his chance. If he had any hope of getting out, it was as soon as the trunk had landed. Leonardo kicked and thrashed, trying to push the top open so that he could swim back up.

After a moment, he steadied himself, taking deep breaths. He needed to be calm, or he would run out of air. If he didn’t stop hyperventilating, then he would asphyxiate at that rate.

Maybe…

Yes, that might work. He would have to be fast, though, if he wanted it to work.

Leonardo took a deep breath, then kicked. Hard. The top didn’t budge, but Leonardo didn’t waver either, kicking over and over again until the top leaked. It started as a drip of water, cold and startling on his scales, but as he continued, it grew more and more, turning from a leak into a steady stream.

There was a shorter time limit, now. If he didn’t work fast, the trunk would eventually fill up. Sure, it would take a long time, slow and agonizing, but it would eventually.

Maybe he needed therapy for his overthinking.

That wasn’t the time to think about it, though. He refused to die there.

As he kicked over and over, the stream turned into multiple bursts, spraying him with dark, salty water. It might not have been too pleasant, but it was hope, and he was lacking in that at the moment.

Suddenly, the cover folded in on itself, giving in from its multiple weak points. He took his chance, wiggling out as soon as he could. He was free from the box, now he just needed to get away from the facility. Leonardo twisted and turned in the water, squinting, but seeing nothing in the dark water. Without a goal, he just started swimming in a circle, trying to go slow enough to not use up too much of his oxygen. As far as he looked, there was only the facility above him, blocking him from the open ocean, and he was sure that if he just went far enough, he would find some kind of wall.

Maybe if he tried the original exit, he would have some luck. They might have left him, although that was probably wishful thinking. Leonardo turned back to the singular source of light, the open hatch, and started moving towards that. He hovered below the surface for a second, of course. He was stupid, but not that stupid. Seeing no shadows from people and no movement, he deemed it safe and started moving up.

His mistake.

Somebody grabbed him by the back of his neck and heaved him out of the water, receiving a panicked gasp and a glare from Leonardo.

“There we are,” Came the familiar voice, crooning at him as if they had won. (They have, an unhelpful voice provided for him). “We knew you’d come back to the land of the living fairly quick, so we hovered around for a bit. We’ll have to try with strong containment next time.”

%%%

Leonardo shivered and took a breath. Day seven of solitary confinement, trapped under the water in a reinforced box with a tube for air.

Whumptober: Field Care 101

The first time they had gone up to the surface, they had no clue what they were walking into. It had gone completely unnoticed that they had been stepping into a war, until they were almost killed by Shredder.

After that, all of them had thrown themselves into their training, learning both how to fight more efficiently while together or apart, and basic first-aid. Donatello still knew the most about medical things, but they, at the very least, knew how to handle themselves if they had injuries.

Donatello knew the most.

Which meant all of them were clueless when he got knocked down.

He went down hard, knocked over the side of a building, a few sickening thumps and cracks following as he hit a couple obstacles.

Leonardo's stomach dropped. He called to Raphael and Michelangelo to cover him and dropped down after the genius, where was he, where was he-

By some miracle, he was alive, laying on the concrete, oh God that was blood- Crimson, pooling around him staining bandages, his mask, everything. His staff was laying across the alleyway, broken. Leonardo dropped down beside him and lifted him up. Shoot, he was already unconscious? He didn't have much time.

Leonardo traced his hands down busted scales and torn skin, looking for the major source of the blood. It had to be somewhere that would bleed a lot, some kind of artery or, or-

Frick.

Frick.

Heads did bleed a lot, didn't they?

At least it wasn't deep, right? It couldn't be deep, it probably just broke the skin, so it was bleeding.

No such luck. Leonardo didn't know much about how skulls should look, but it was not like that. He needed Donatello, but that was who he was caring for, and he couldn't get answers.

Leonardo wrestled a cloth and some water out of the medicine bag they all had, wetting the cloth, dabbing away blood, and cleaning the wound as best as he could. He followed up with bandages, desperate to stem the bleeding, but trying to remain calm and composed. If he had learned anything from war, it was that panicking helped no one.

As the battle above ended, Michelangelo and Raphael climbed down almost frantically, seeing what was the problem.

"Is he alri-" Michelangelo began, then quickly cut off, noticing the pooling blood, thick and warm and sticky.

"He has a really bad head injury, and we need to move him. Now," Leonardo explained curtly.

He slipped one arm under Donatello's legs, his other under his shell, and carefully lifted him up. There was a low moan that Leonardo tried to ignore as he turned to his other two still standing brothers and tipped his head towards the manhole.

Michelangelo darted forward and opened it, and Raphael hopped down to help carry Donatello down. The thing they needed the least was to accidentally drop him and crack his skull open entirely.

The walk was painfully silent, everybody looking at Donatello every now and again to make sure he was still breathing.

As soon as they were home, they rushed Donatello into the lab. There had to be something that could help them, the resident doctor always kept something useful handy. Donatello was passed off to Raphael to settle somewhere while Leonardo dug through boxes and bins, over desks. It had to be somewhere around, it had to be. He couldn't keep wasting time when the bandages he used earlier were already turning red, when Donatello was getting paler and paler by the minute.

There it was, the heavy kit, reserved for emergencies. Now, he didn't know much, but he was fairly certain that a heavily bleeding head injury counted as an emergency. Leonardo ripped it open, taking what he needed and hurried back to where they had set Donatello up. Praying to whatever deity would listen, he crouched down and tried not to fumble with the needle and thread as he stitched up the wound. The blood flow would stop, and then Donatello would wake up later, right?

...He hoped so, but he tried not to keep his hopes up.

The bandaging process was familiar, the bottom layer soaked to keep the injury clean, and after that? They would have to wait and see.

"I'll keep the first watch," Leonardo murmured, pulling up a chair to sit. It would be a long, long night. "I just wish we had something better for him."

%%%

They swapped back and forth all night, and the next day, and the rest of the week, just taking care of Donatello.

Eventually, Leonardo had to say that he had most likely fallen into comatose, and wouldn't wake up for a long time, if ever. They were simply not qualified to take care of him, and he might never be okay.

Of course it was met with sobs, protests, questions that he could not answer.

When left with silence, though, Leonardo himself expressed frustration, silent tears falling down even when they didn't belong.

Whumptober: Coughing Up A Lung

Leonardo, out of all of them, was always known to have the worst anxiety

Of course it was there, as the oldest and their leader in the middle of a war. Issues that followed anxiety popped up here and there, but it wasn’t anything they couldn’t deal with. Sometimes, though, those issues were more difficult to deal with than usual.

%%%

Several incidents over the past week, and Leonardo wanted to scream.

It was a good thing he didn't have hair, because he would've pulled it all out by then. Seriously, was there something wrong with the month? It was just one incident with him and his brothers after the other, every October. Really, it was a wonder that they weren't all superstitious at that point.

Maybe some sleep would help him. He was feeling off, anyway, he could use some rest.

%%%

It started with breathing issues, towards the beginning of the day.

Nothing to bother Donatello about, but still a shortness of breath, a little more trouble with training, some lack of stamina, but nothing too serious. Towards noon, he started having chest pain. While it was inconvenient, it wasn’t unheard of. Leonardo ended up deciding to meditate to help himself calm down.

By evening, before patrol, the chest pain worsened. Deep breaths hurt, and coughing only made it worse. There was a slight wheeze when he breathed, it felt like something was in his lungs, and it didn’t take long to realize that, maybe, he was sick. With what though? He made sure to be extra careful with his health, because they couldn’t take one of them falling sick at the moment. The temperatures were lowering, but they had been bundling up to avoid getting cold enough for sickness. He was sure he was fine.

And what would they think if he tapped out a couple minutes before patrol over something that probably wasn’t even that serious? It wasn’t like they hadn’t performed with worse illnesses or injuries. Standing and brushing himself off, he decided to ignore it for the time being, and ask about it tomorrow.

Leonardo put a hand on one of his knees and stood up before heading to the turnstiles, pleased to find that Donatello was already there and waiting, doing something on his phone. The two waited in comfortable silence, and if Donatello noticed the slight wheeze, he said nothing about it.

A little while later Raphael joined them, and Michelangelo followed shortly after, almost late.

When they were all prepared, they took off. The walk was mostly uneventful, besides Michelangelo messing with Raphael and ending up invoking the hothead's wrath, requiring some interference to keep him from antagonizing Raphael with his youngest privileges.

They were on the roof almost immediately after getting outside, and continued on with their normal patrol route, sticking to routine.

He was still struggling not to heave for air, Leo realized with a frown. Already, he was tired and out of breath. Maybe he should've stayed back after all.

"Hey, Leo," Raphael nudged him and crouched, everyone else following suit. "Look there, some shady Kraang deal."

Leonardo glanced over and, sure enough, a group of Kraang were loading up a truck. Was that mutagen? ...Of course it was, it was Kraang, what was he thinking? He signaled to his brothers, and slowly, they crept along to surround the truck from above.

One, two, three.. NOW! he signaled, jumping down as soon as the countdown was over and landing on the top of one of the droids.

The pain in his chest sharpened as he landed, spreading into his shoulders and back. His already ragged breathing hitched, and for a moment, his mind fogged in panic. He couldn't have stayed home, though. If he stayed, his brothers would have stayed, and they would've missed this. Leonardo steeled himself in his resolve and struck harder at the enemies, clearing them out fast and efficiently.

Ragged breathing turned into desperate gasps, the pain growing unbearable, lungs fighting for air. Fighting was getting hard, fatigue pulling at his limbs, screaming for him to stop, he should have been moving faster but he wasn't-

A boot slammed into his bad knee and splintering pain shot through his whole leg from it, causing him to bite his tongue to keep from crying out. He dropped down on one knee, gripping it tightly, what was he doing, he needed to get up!

And he was still gasping, wheezing, unable to get the air into his lungs.

There was a gun to his head, and distantly, he heard his brothers scream. He was worrying them, he needed to get up-

Gritting his teeth and tightening the grip he still had on one of his katanas, Leonardo lunged forward and stabbed the Kraang droid in the abdomen, uncaring about the magenta spray that followed, and finished the battle alongside his family.

But of course, Donatello was immediately trying to smother him, looking him over and trying to figure out what was wrong. Behind him, Michelangelo tried to stay out of the way, and Raphael twirled his sai, tense and angry.

"Leo!" Donatello started, "What in the name of science-"

"Can this wait until we're home, Donnie?" Leonardo interrupted, "We need to get rid of this stuff, then we can talk."

Donatello opened his mouth to argue, but a glare and gentle shake forced him to leave it alone, even though he was against Leonardo carrying some of the mutagen and definitely against waiting to ask some medical questions.

Leonardo's breathing evened out a little on the way home, but not by much. There was still a wheeze, something louder and more audible than before.

He hated it, he decided. The entire day sucked.

"You good?" Raphael questioned, looking him over with almost the same expression as Donatello.

"Maybe we should stop," Donatello quickly jumped on the opportunity and slowed down some.

"No," Leonardo started, then realized it was more forceful than he wanted it to be. "No. I'll be fine, just keep moving for now."

There were a few looks of concern, but the matter was dropped until they were home. There, the mutagen dropped off in Donatello's lab, and the eldest was pushed to a spot where he could sit and have Donatello look him over.

A stethoscope was pushed against his plastron, and when the genius told him to take deep breaths in, Leonardo didn't question him, even though he felt the ache throughout his torso afterwards.

"How long has this been going on?"

The question wasn't unexpected, yet it still managed to startle Leonardo. "Since this morning."

"This morning?" Donatello nearly shrieked, pulling away.

"What's up?" Raphael asked, popping into the lab only a few seconds after being forced to leave.

"I think one of his lungs collapsed, and it has been collapsed since this morning."

"I'm sorry, what?!"

"It can happen randomly, and there are a few causes. Leo, have you maybe been more stressed than usual?" Donatello turned to the oldest.

"Yeah?"

"Okay, because stress can cause it, so that’s probably why."

"Is it bad?" Raphael pushed for an answer, coming closer.

"Only if left alone, there’s something I can do, it's called Needle Aspiration-"

"Okay." At that point, Leonardo couldn't care less about what happened.

"What?"

"I said okay. I think it'll be alright."

"...Oh."

Donatello blinked a few times, as though he was expecting more of a fight. He moved around busily, injecting something into one of his sides after wiping it down to clean it. Shortly after, Leonardo was numbed, and didn't feel the needle when it was pushed into his side. The relief that followed was certainly something, though.

It was over fairly quickly, a bandage placed over the area where the needle had been.

"How long is it going to take to heal?" Leonardo asked, kicking his legs.

"Only about a week or two," Donatello responded automatically, "That's at most. No training or patrols until then though, and I don't want to hear a word about it from you."

Leonardo hummed, understanding why, but knowing that he would definitely become frustrated with that restraint in only two or three days.

"In the meantime…" Michelangelo began in a drawl.

"Oh no." The other three groaned, even though none of them meant it.

"It's movie time! If he needs the rest then a long marathon will work, right?" The youngest bounced backwards, out to the living room, and the rest followed, making Leonardo move slower as he was still numb. It wasn't that they were really against a movie marathon, anyway, since they hadn't gotten together to do it in quite some time.

The four settled on the couch, snuggled up  close as Michelangelo set up the first movie of multiple. Raphael gave Leonardo's hand a light squeeze, reassuring himself that his big brother was still there, before leaning back and relaxing further.

The sound of movies faded deep into the night, accompanied by the soft sounds of snores from two or three brothers.