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Whumptober: My Spidey-Sense Is Tingling

A/N: !!!TW FOR THIS CHAPTER: Medication/Drug use and accidental overdosing!!! Also, today’s chapter was inspired by Careful by tiredRobin, check it out! https://archiveofourown.org/works/26849536

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In the lab, Donatello was hard at work.

Over the past couple of weeks, none of them had been sleeping right. Either it was nightmares or just downright fear, but they could never get a full night’s rest from terrorized dreams. Medications didn’t always work for them, not being entirely human, so he was working on something for that. He hoped that when he was finished, he would have something that would finally bury nightmares and cause dreamless sleep.

Of course, he was trying not to keep his hopes up. After all, it may end in failure.

But over the past week, he had been working so hard, it had to work. He had been messing with the dosages of ingredients for a while, and finally found something he thought would work.

Just in time, it was ready. A full bottle of the pills he hoped would work. Was it excessive to make a whole bottle, knowing full well that they might not even be the right dosage? Maybe, but, it wouldn’t hurt to have it on hand, right?

He set the bottle down before going to clean off his desk, just in case they worked a little too well. He wasn’t stupid, he didn’t plan on taking experimental medication with sharp or hard items nearby that could risk injury. On top of that, it was late and he was tired. 

Donatello paused before taking the pill, then moved to his room. It was safer there, anyway. And softer. And easier to sleep in, at that.

After his short trek to his bedroom, he sat on the bed, opened up a water bottle, took the pill, then got comfortable and waited.

Really, it should have been more alarming how fast he fell asleep.

%%%

Donatello blinked a few times, swallowing. His head was swimming, why did he feel so sick?

His body screamed that it was wrong, something was wrong and it was bad. Bad, bad bad bad bad-

There was light coming from underneath the shoji, but- He could barely see it, everything was blurry and the colors and lights were muted in the haze. Why did he feel like this? Why did his head hurt? He felt sick, so he should stop moving. Right, not moving, resting, that was good when one was sick.

Could he even move in the first place? He didn't feel like he could, he felt frozen to the spot. He felt scared. Why couldn't he think? He was fairly certain he had been fine before, what was-

Oh, was that his name? It sounded like his name. Who was calling him though? He didn't recognize the voice. He felt sick. Maybe he should stay laying there.

...His breathing shouldn't be that slow, he realized. His chest moved up and down sluggishly, taking in air far too slow to be normal. He needed help, he needed help, maybe that was why he was sick. 

Sitting up was a struggle all on it's own, but trying to stand was worse. Donatello's legs buckled out from underneath him, his body refusing to keep him even sitting up, and all he could do was gasp, completely and utterly helpless.

The panic was cutting through the fog, his struggles growing by the second but only taking his breath away. He didn't know how long it had been since this started, didn't know how long he had left at this rate, why was this-

The medication. He took that before bed, but it should've helped, what happened to make him like this? What had-

You put too much, said the little voice in his head, before unhelpfully supplying: It's an overdose.

If it was an overdose, he would die without assistance. His own work would kill him, he'd be found dead in-

Somebody called his name, sounding concerned and growing closer. Hadn't they called earlier? There might still be hope for him.

But breathing was hard, leaving him gasping like a fish out of water, he could barely see anything, and he couldn't even move, he was helpless, he was helpless-

The murk got brighter, as if the door was ripped open to allow more light in. Somebody swore rather loudly, followed by a gasp, and his world kept flashing in and out of darkness before he realized that there was the same person who swore beside him, giving out orders. When did they get there?

They sighed and said something he couldn't hear before sitting him up and leaning him against them. Something was pushed against his lips and poured into his mouth as his head was tipped back, and, by reflex, he swallowed, flinching at its bitter taste and the fact that it just kept coming. When it was done, his head got pushed back forward, a bucket pushed under his beak, why-?

Before he knew what was going on, he was throwing up, heaving and coughing, unable to breathe for a long moment before he finished.

The person beside him rubbed his shell, waiting until he was finished to move it away, tilt his head back again, and poured something else into his mouth. He was sure it was water, but it still tasted a little odd to him.

Slowly, his sight and sense returned to him, but not without a splitting headache and-

His whole family was in his room.

Leonardo was the one holding him, Michelangelo taking dishes and the bucket out of the room and Raphael sitting on his bed, looking the pill bottle over as if it held all the answers to every question in the world.

Donatello blinked a few times as he realized what had happened. Shoot.

"Oh-" he began, speaking softly, "Oh, I'm so sorry, this was-"

Leonardo nudged him to be quiet and started talking, voice low to avoid hurting Donatello's ears, but definitely concerned. There was no way he hadn't seen the bottle.

"What were you thinking, Don? You could've died. If we had been any later, you probably would’ve!"

Donatello's cheeks burned with shame as he lowered his head, going to explain.

"I'm so sorry, really- I was just testing a sleep medication for us, I must have messed up the dosages-"

"'Must have'? You overdosed, Donnie. You got really sick, so sick we had to pull out the ipecac. Why in the world did you think it was a good idea to test it on yourself?"

"I- I just couldn't think of anything else, and I thought it would be alright. I- Sorry…"

Leonardo heaved a sigh. Not one of his exasperated sighs, though. It was his worried "I'm-Going-To-Have-A-Heart-Attack-At-This-Rate" sighs.

"Just-" Leonardo said after a long moment of consideration, "Just don't try it again, okay? You really scared us, and I'm sure you can find some other way to test it without risking death. Just head to bed for now, without the help of some pills."

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.

Whumptober: Rumors Of My Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated (3/5)

Hours turned to days, weeks to months, and months to a full year.

Leonardo was not coming back, and they would have to accept that. If he had stayed away for so long, then he was definitely dead. He wouldn’t willingly leave them like that, right?

Raphael did not want to accept that. Not just that Leonardo was part of his family, and accepting that meant giving up on him, but the weight of being leader fell onto his shoulders, a role he swore that he would never attempt to take again. That was Leonardo’s role, nobody else’s.

And, he had to take it. Because Leonardo was gone for good.

That’s how Raphael found himself alone, on the surface, kicking stones and other debris around in his anger. Leonardo had to still be alive, he had to be. They were just giving up on him, when he could very well be alive and stuck.

Raphael grit his teeth and bit back the scream forming. He couldn’t cause a scene on the surface, not when people were probably still awake. Crumpling by a sign, he gripped the sides of his head and sobbed, knowing he was alone. It felt like he was going insane, why did that idiot have to play martyr?

A couple minutes passed, or maybe it was more. Maybe it was a half hour, or an hour. Maybe he had his family worried. He couldn’t care right then, he just wanted to be alone.

But being alone was not a privilege he got. He could feel something or someone standing there, hovering nearby.

He stilled, breathing hitching as silent tears continued to fall down his face, before he slowly looked up.

It was- It was Leonardo? No, it couldn’t be, he was gone for a year. The apparition stared, wide-eyed. They had no gear, and Raphael lost count of the sheer amount of scars lining their limbs and plastron almost as soon as he tried to count them.

That was not his brother. His brother was dead, his brother was gone for a year, disappearing behind a heavy metal wall. It had to be a ghost. There was no other reasonable answer.

Something between sorrow and wrath bubbled up inside Raphael, followed by a few other emotions that flashed by so fast he couldn’t pause to identify them. That wasn’t his brother. That was a ghost, a dream, a hallucination, something, it just wasn’t Leonardo.

Still, the ghost crouched and reached their hand out, tilting their head, smiling in the soft way the oldest always did when any of them were afraid or sad, it was too close, too close-

Raphael shivered, then forced both his hands down, throwing a punch at the ghost and standing as they backed up. Why did it keep antagonizing him like this? What was the joy there? He didn’t want to see the oh so familiar face anymore, he wanted to be left alone!

The scream from earlier finally escaped him as he chased after the spirit, trying to hit it, maybe then it would leave him to his misery.

Or maybe it would take him, maybe he could leave with Leonardo, then.

Either way, it kept dodging, moving fluidly around his punches in a circle around the roof, never fighting back, not disappearing. Raphael didn’t know which he wanted more; For it to fight back, although incorporeal, or for it to leave so he could continue wallowing in self-pity.

“He left us!” Raphael yelled, no longer caring who heard or what happened, tears flowing down his face without a problem, “He’s probably dead, because we haven’t heard a single thing from him in a year, and there’s no way he’d leave us that long!”

Something flashed on the ghost’s face that almost resembled guilt, but Raphael missed it, crumpling back to the ground and voice cracking with sobs as he shook his head. “And now? I’m screaming at his ghost, trying to fight it for God’s sake, and I feel like I’m going insane.”

%%%

Leonardo looked his brother over from where he stood, eye ridges knitted in concern. How far had they fallen in the time he was gone, so that Raphael openly cried like this, that he thought Leonardo was a ghost?

Seriously, he crossed half of America, just for this to happen.

He approached the shaking figure slowly, crouched back down and slowly reached out, nervous that the other might strike out at him again.

Thankfully, Raphael did not. In fact, he didn't even seem to notice Leonardo at that point. Leonardo took a chance, grabbing a firm hold of his wrist and hoping he didn't scare the other too much.

Raphael attempted to jerk away, eyes wide as he looked to Leonardo, panicking.

"Hey," Leonardo moved to hold his hand instead, gripping it tightly between both of his, "Hey, it's me. It's me, Raph. It's me, I'm real. Look, look, I can touch you. I'm holding you. You can even hit me if you want."

Raphael paused, looking him over. Did he believe Leonardo? The eldest hoped so, although he also hoped that the younger wouldn't actually attempt to hit him.

He stared for a longer moment, dead silent, before:

"Leo?"

"Yes?"

Another choked son left him as he lunged forward, trapping Leonardo in a crushing hug. Leonardo froze, tense, but slowly hugged him back, shushing him and rubbing his shell.

They sat together until Raphael's sobs faded to sniffles. Leonardo waited for Raphael to say that he was done, when all of a sudden, the hothead pulled away and dragged Leonardo up after him. After the initial alarm passed, the older said nothing, realizing that they were heading down to the manhole.

Honestly, it just made the whole process easier. He had already been planning on how to come back, he just… Didn't know how to come back to them naturally. So yeah, having Raphael take him there made it a lot easier-

Did that shadow just move? Nobody was following them, right?

...Nothing moved, it was just a trick of the light, there was no one there.

Still, he scanned the darkness, just in case. Raphael paid his behavior no mind, focusing solely on getting him home. Once at the lair, Raphael slammed something- Leonardo didn't see what- Down, making extra noise to grab the younger two's attention.

They looked up from where they had been bickering, and froze, silent. Then, they erupted in screams, running at him and scooping Leonardo up in a hug. Leonardo melted into their grip, just relieved to be home. He missed the warmth, the low hum of electronics, his brothers, most of all.

Then, they were all asking questions, firing them at him like a machine gun, and he had to cut them off, getting one question and giving one answer at a time.

By the end of it, they were all concerned, because to be fair, it sounded less than pleasurable.

Leonardo smiled, to reassure them.

And then he collapsed.

Whumptober: Oops, I Did It Again

They were about nine when Leonardo's asthma started getting bad. He had always had it, and they all knew it, but the symptoms were less before, now they were persistent. It was probably the more advanced training they got, which was why he had to tap out more often when it acted up, moreso in the winter. It wasn't terrible, but was definitely annoying for him, especially when he was striving to be the best out of them.

%%%

God, NO, why right now?

There it was, the growing wheeze, an inability to breathe, the growing urge to cough, right when Leonardo needed to not have an asthma attack. Splinter had promised to teach them something special on their eleventh mutation day, and low and behold, he had a flare-up right after warm-ups.

Leonardo grit his teeth, swallowing his anger, and clenched his hands into fists before opening one back up and raising it.

"Excuse me, Sensei?" he began politely, catching the attention of his brothers as well, "Can I tap out for this session?"

Splinter looked almost surprised- Scratch that, he was astonished that Leonardo was leaving a lesson he had been so excited for for months. He looked as though he was about to ask why, but the faint wheeze coming from Leonardo filled the silence and answered the question as to why he was asking to sit it out. Splinter nodded, and Leonardo spent the rest of the lesson with a quick-relief in his hands, watching the others go through katas.

Occasionally, his brothers glanced over to him, seeming concerned and guilty, but nothing was said and he only waved, smiling to reassure them.

By the time the lesson was over, the attack had ended, leaving him in a frustrated bubble. He sat there, just a little longer, then shook his head to try and dissipate the anger he felt and stood up.

Maybe next time.

%%%

He was about fourteen when his symptoms started fading. Slowly but surely, he started getting less and less attacks, until they one day faded all together. By the time they were almost fifteen, he was completely free. Donatello said maybe he outgrew his asthma, but he couldn't care less about what happened that caused it, he was free from it!

And just in time for them to go up to the surface.

%%%

The air on the ship was cold.

It was like being in a fridge if you weren't up and active, and even then you'd end up in an uncomfortable, cold sweat. The effects of space, they presumed.

Leonardo didn't realize that his asthma was acting up again until he was wheezing, pausing his katas to figure out what was happening.

Oh heck no.

He thought it was over!

He thought he outgrew his asthma, he wouldn't have to deal with it again!

Leonardo growled quietly, sheathing his katanas and going to Donatello. They always had a good quick-relief on hand, just in case, he had just hoped that they would never need to use it again.

"Don," he whispered to get his brother to look at him, then came closer, “Don, it’s back.”

Donatello tilted his head, confused. “What?”

“My asthma is acting up again. I was just training and it suddenly flared up.”

The genius’ eyes widened in concern as he reached over for the medicine Leonardo was all too familiar with and handed it over to him. Taking a quick puff, Leonardo sighed. The relief, the first time he had done that, was like a miracle, but now it was nothing more than some fast working medication, used to the feeling that followed.

A little while later, the symptoms passed, leaving the two in uncomfortable silence.

“Well,” Donatello started, sounding unsure.

“Well,” Leonardo repeated.

“I guess this means it’s back. Be careful, would you? We don’t want to have a severe attack.”

%%%

Leonardo stared at the ceiling, laying in bed, awake.

A familiar wheeze filled the room, making no space for silence.

He groaned softly, sitting up. There would be no sleep that night, he could already tell. Looking over to the inhaler that Donatello had given him, he considered using it, then shook his head. It wasn’t too bad, he could do without it.

Instead of staying in his room, he decided to move to the common area. Maybe he could wait it out? Leonardo grabbed his inhaler and moved slowly, not wanting to aggravate it too much.

The wheezing got worse.

It was getting increasingly difficult to breathe by the minute, and breaking down into coughing didn't make it any better.

He grit his teeth and took a short breath of the medication, leaning back against the wall and sliding down.

Seconds ticked by, then minutes.

The quick-relief wasn't working, why wasn’t the quick-relief working?

Leonardo tried to steady himself before the panic grew unmanageable. Worrying would only make it worse, he needed to stay calm.

...Too late, apparently.

His heart trimmed nervously against his ribcage, trying to free itself from his prison. It was getting worse. He needed Donatello soon.

Leonardo fumbled for his shell-phone, he always had it with his brothers on speed dial. A low, quiet ring started up, waiting for Donatello to pick up. He tapped the phone case, waiting, waiting-

"Hello?"

"Don," Leonardo gasped, "It's happening again. The quick-relief didn't work."

Donatello's breathing hitched. "Where are you?"

"Hallway between the common room and my room."

"Alright, I'll be right there."

Donatello hung up almost immediately, and a few moments later, he was in front of Leonardo, holding a pill bottle and a glass that was mostly filled with crushed ice, and just enough water to take one or two pills.

"Do you feel alright enough to drink without choking?"

Leonardo nodded stiffly, and took the pill and water handed to him, sipping carefully so he wouldn't end up accidentally drowning himself.

A little later, breathing got easier, and Leonardo reveled in it, taking deep breaths and sighing softly. He sucked on some of the ice while waiting to see if Donatello would initiate the conversation. When the other remained silent, he swallowed, paused, and finally asked.

"Why did this happen?" he asked softly and traced shapes into the condensation on the side of the glass, "Why is it back?"

"Well…" Donatello began and faltered, then shook his head, "I'm not sure. Sometimes asthma can be triggered by extreme stress, and there's been plenty of that around lately. Also, cold, dry air helps in triggering attacks as well. It may just be the environment and current mood.

"...So, I guess we're back on asthma watch?"

"Mhm."

"Shoot."

Whumptober: Just Keep Swimming

Leonardo narrowed his eyes to see better in the rain, watching droids go back and forth, carrying boxes into a plane.

"Shouldn't we stop them?" Raphael growled, one hand on his sai.

"No, there's too many, we can't take on all of them."

"What's the plan, then?" Donatello chimed in, already working out plans and calculations in his head.

"We'll sneak into the plane before takeoff and hijack it, then try to land it outside the city to avoid civilian casualties."

Leonardo got a few looks, but he ignored them, signaling for them to follow as he timed the gaps between guards, then darted into the cargo hold, his brothers following shortly behind. He wiggled between two crates and held his breath, watching as the others did his same.

Back and forth, back and forth, like mice, until the hold was shut and pressurized. The plane took off, slowly but surely, building up speed until they were in the air.

"Where are we heading, Don?" Leonardo asked, reiterating where they were going.

"Overseas, some part of Asia."

Leonardo nodded, even if the other couldn't see, and waited.

Enough time went by to leave him stiff, but unable to leave the area, just in case somebody came in.

And then Michelangelo stood up, probably not able to stand waiting that long, just as the door opened.

Michelangelo blinked, and then all heck broke loose.

The fight wouldn't have been bad, if somebody hadn't gotten thrown into a button. The cargo hold opened, and any cargo that wasn't locked down securely and any people who hadn't grabbed something were sucked outside, falling into the turbulent sea below.

Everybody froze, clinging onto something that wasn't moving, unsure of what to do next with the risk of falling. Then, one of the attackers took a risk, lunging at Leonardo, dislodging him, and sending them both into the black of the storm.

Stillness, howling wind, rain that seemed to move backwards as he fell down.

"LEO!"

Those were his brothers, and he was losing them. He couldn't see them anymore, the plane lights disappearing rapidly.

He was going to hit the water. Leonardo twisted midair, trying to sort himself out like a diver. If he hit the water any other way, he'd probably die. No, scratch that, he'd definitely die.

He didn't fully make it on his way down, leg splintering with a sickening crack, and the shock of hitting the icy water forcing him to freeze up.

However, from the sound of it, his attacker wasn't as lucky.

Leonardo sank for a long minute, stunned, before thrashing. He needed to swim, he needed to not drown.

But the water was pitch black, and he had no clue which way was up. For all he knew, he could have been going further down.

Suddenly, he broke the surface and took a deep breath, coughing and floundering. Then, he was pulled back under, depriving of air. In a momentary panic, he swam desperately, kicking and fighting to get back up. Around him, the water was tight and constricting, and it only reminded him of the Technodrone again, getting dragged down, the ship exploding-

This was not the same situation, he had to remind himself, fumbling for a small knife as he calmed down and continued to sink. His gear was waterlogged, it would only continue to pull him down until he got rid of it.

Working as fast as he could, Leonardo carved through the knee and elbow pads, then as much as it hurt him, wrestled the belts off and dropped them. Finally ripping his mask off, Leo swam up as fast as he could go, he needed to hurry.

He broke the surface again, and floated around on black waters, groping for anything that would allow him to stay out of the water that threatened to take him back and drown him. Eventually, he bumped into what he assumed was a small box, and held on for dear life.

Leonardo coughed and choked before a wave slammed into him, attempting to pull him back. Fighting against it, he clawed at the box desperately, then pulled himself up onto it, no matter its size. The knife went into the box, and Leo gripped it with both hands. That, at the moment, was his lifeline. If he let go, he was gone.

The next thing Leonardo remembered was waking up, still clinging to that same knife. It was the middle of the day, dry, sunny, and he was soaked.

He blinked owlishly a few times. What was he..?

Oh, right.

Leonardo pulled his limbs onto the box, sore, aching, and salt crusted against his joints. He groaned softly, and performed a quick once-over to make sure he hadn't gotten too terribly busted up. On his right arm, at the elbow, there was a cut that seemed to have stopped bleeding a while ago. It was probably made in his panic to get free of the pads. To protect it in case of anything later, he took the bandages off his hands and wrapped them around the injury, then winced and hissed. Right, salt. He'd be feeling like he had hand sanitizer on an open injury for quite some time.

Oh, but that was a bigger issue. A much, much bigger issue. His stomach rolled, and Leo swallowed to keep whatever he last ate down. Somehow, he managed to miss the broken bone in his leg. Not only was it broken, it was displaced, too. Not very ideal for his situation.

But, there wasn't really much he could do at the moment, so he checked where the waves were heading, hopped in the water, and started kicking with his good leg, pushing the box as he went. As long as he didn't look down, he should've been fine.

...And, he still had to look at the open water fading into darkness. Don't think about what could be there, he reminded himself, Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it...

Leonardo didn't know how long he swam for, but eventually, black depths faded to murky kelp forests, sand and seaweed kicked up by the storm. It would have been strangely beautiful, if it didn't mean that he had absolutely no idea where he was, nor what could be beneath him.

He swam just a little further, trying to get out of that area, to no avail. Eventually, he sighed and pulled himself back up onto the box and examined his leg.

A long moment passed, and he slowly set his hands on where the bone was pushing against the skin.

CRACK!

Leonardo screamed, loud and thoughtless, coming straight from the burning agony on his leg, and tightened his grip to the point that his skin turned white.

He trembled, then slowly released his leg, now appearing mostly normal besides the swelling. Any leftover bandages were used to keep the bone in place. He wished he had a splint or something, but it would have to do.

Leonardo leaned forward and closed his eyes.

%%%

Another day, and Leonardo hopped back into the water. He tried swimming again, keeping an eye out for any driftwood or seabirds. Still nothing, no land anywhere, even if he squinted.

He hopped back up to save his energy, although he assumed that it wouldn't do much in the end.

%%%

Day number three. He was feeling… Off. It was coming, he could feel in the distance. He knew it was there. It was coming, no matter how much he fought it.

Still, it was worth it to try swimming. He might as well make some progress.

His energy drained too fast, too fast. It was coming, he knew. Still, he crawled out of the water and laid down. Maybe a short rest would do him some good.

But, something brushed against his bad leg, still in the water, sending shockwaves of pain up and down, and startled him back into the world of the living. A short whine escaped him, as childish as it was. He wanted to go back to sleep, and not wake up for hours. What was brushing against his leg and why?

Leonardo pulled his leg up and sat up, trying to be careful as he crossed his legs. He peered into the water and paused. Oh. It was a whale? That was a whale. More specifically, it looked like a humpback. He gaped, because it wasn’t every day that he got to see one in person. After pausing for a moment, Leonardo reached down, gently brushing his hand against it’s smooth skin. In response, it cooed and bellowed, coming up and shooting water out of its blowhole. Leonardo squeaked and raised his hands to shield himself, as if he hadn’t been hopping in and out of the water for days. Then, he smiled, momentarily forgetting about his previous desolation, and leaned back, letting the whale take him along. They were both following the current, so they might as well travel together, right? He rolled onto his stomach, resting his limbs in the water and glancing down. Unlike before, it was crystal clear, allowing him to see the bottom. It was actually rather nice, not having to worry about what could possibly be below him.

Eventually, the whale left, leaving him lonely and vaguely disappointed. Guess he would have to go alone again.

%%%

He made it a fourth day? Incredible. But he was so tired, even though he didn't do anything to be that exhausted. He was so tired, he'd sink if he tried to swim. Heck, he wanted to get back home, he wanted to see the city lights, he wanted to be running on the rooftops, not floating in the endless ocean. He wanted to see his brothers, to see Michelangelo enthusing over a new game or comic or something he had drawn, to hear Donatello rambling over an idea he had, fawning over April in a haze of puppy love, to spar Raphael and see the joy that followed from having an equal opponent, the competitive fire.

Oh God, Raphael would fall into a self-destructive spiral, the same as Leonardo did, under the burden of being a leader, he wouldn't be able to take the stress, that's why Leonardo offered to be leader.

He didn't want to let them fall to that.

Leonardo closed his eyes.

Something hit the bottom of the box.

Whumptober: It’ll Be Fun, They Said (4/5)

He thought they were safe.

He thought they would have been smarter, that they would have left it or gotten away.

But NO. They. Came. BACK.

And now they were all trapped, bound to this place where they'd probably die.

What was he supposed to do? He himself was chained to the wall, the heavy door triple locked to prevent any attempts at escapes.

Besides, they were all separated, and getting them all out would take too long. Raphael was in the room to his left. Donatello to his right, and Michelangelo behind him.

Getting to the room behind him would mean having to go completely around, running through a maze. Somebody would be shot before then, they couldn't get out without serious planning first.

He paced back and forth, listening to the chains on his ankles rattling as he thought.

"Leo?" Donatello whispered, barely loud enough to be heard through the wall, "Do you… Do you have a plan?"

Of course, of course- They were depending on him. They needed him to get them out before something happened. He needed to work faster. He always had a plan while on his toes, why couldn't he now?

"...I'll think of something," he replied instead of saying he didn't know.

"You always do."

How did he say he didn't know? He already tried everything, as soon as he got the chance. Now that they were all there, they would have a harder time. More places to be, more lives to account for, more hiding spots needed.

He continued to pace for a long while, still racking his brain for anything he hadn't thought of, anything that could work.

There were footsteps coming down the hall.

Nobody came down that way, towards where they were.

Leonardo froze, then stepped back, pushing himself against the wall, and waiting.

The door to his right opened, where Donatello was.

He felt sick, he wanted to scream, to make sure they wouldn't touch his brothers, but screaming would do nothing for anyone. Instead, he had to wait, listening to alarmed protests and a fading pair of footsteps, Raphael yelling not to touch him.

Once they were gone, Leonardo silently scolded himself for saying nothing, for not doing something to protect Donatello. He was supposed to take care of them, that was his job, as their older brother and leader.

He waited in silence, counting the minutes that ticked by until somebody came back down the hall after about half an hour. The door opened to his cell, spreading blinding light that made him blink and squint to see. While he was struggling to gain his bearings, somebody wrapped their hand around his wrist and pulled him up, unclipping the chain that held him to the wall. Leonardo said nothing, not after the act he pulled.

Still, Raphael yelled, sounding more panicked than before. He probably wondered who was next, and honestly, Leonardo didn’t blame him.

Leonardo got dragged into a room far, far away from the cells, and pushed down onto his knees. He cast an indignant glare at the masked guard, then took in the room. There was no light, leaving most of the room in darkness, but ahead of him was a one-way mirror, the room on the other side casting light in and-

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh GOD no.

Donatello was on the other side, already bruised and slightly battered. Leonardo tensed. He KNEW what was going on, he knew what form of torture this was, he didn’t- He- He couldn’t.

The beating started, and Donatello cried out sharply. Leonardo looked away and closed his eyes, unable to watch. That didn’t mean he couldn’t hear it though. Oh yes, he heard every whimper, every hiss, every scream. He could hear the short coughs from a heavy blow, the snap of a bone at some point.

The guard rapped their knuckle against his shell before grabbing him below the jaw, forcing his head up. Still, he squeezed his eyes tighter shut, and the beating only grew worse. Eventually, screams and quiet pleads turned into one long, never-ending wail that only rolled into low moans of pain.

He couldn’t take it, he couldn’t take having the other so close, yet unable to help, still hearing the second youngest’s begging growing desperate.

“Please,” Leonardo looked up, a whine in his voice that he couldn’t stop when he himself begged, “PLEASE, stop, stop- You’ve done enough, he can’t take much more, please stop, please-”

The torture continued. If anything, it only got worse. An itch began to burn and he shook, tears forming behind his eyes.

“I’ll do anything, anything you want, just please STOP, let them go. It’s me you want, Splinter is DEAD, take me and you won’t have to deal with them, please just stop!”

They paused, then held their hand up and, miraculously, the other person stopped, leaving Donatello breathing hard and shaking. He took a moment to take in his brother’s trembling figure, the harsh pants, bruises and cuts, bleeding injuries, burn marks, swollen skin and ripped up scales.

Then he was grabbed again, pulled up and away, out of the room. He looked back, but they had- How had they already taken Donatello away? Would he be alright? That was horrific- His stomach rolled, Leonardo closed his eyes and swallowed to avoid being sick all over the person ahead of him.

As they came to a halt, he was suddenly yanked forward, then shoved into a new cell, far from where he was before.

Hours passed, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Not a good thing. Seconds ticked by, and he could only think of what would happen. He was the oldest, he had MICHELANGELO for a brother, he shouldn’t have said “anything”. “Anything” was bad, who knew what they would do with that.

Eventually, the guard came back. They pulled him along through a maze of hallways and corridors until they were somewhere new. A big, open room. To the right was a lever that he was sure couldn’t mean anything good. In front of him was a table, and on it, a revolver and chains beside it. Past that was a thick glass wall and-

His brothers.

They were all chained and on their knees, sitting equal distances apart from each other. Raphael and Michelangelo were fretting over Donatello, asking quiet questions that only received small head shakes or nods. Somebody looked up, then he was pointed out, and they stared, worried for him as well, even though nothing really bad had happened to him yet, nothing bad in comparison to what just happened to Donatello.

The guard grabbed the back of his head and turned it towards them, leaning in to growl a whisper. “You said anything, so here’s what’s going to happen. If you take the chains and bind your own wrists, you’ll give up your freedom. You’ll resign yourself to the Foot Clan and serve them until your last breath. For it, they’ll be let free to live their lives without much worry, as long as they don’t get caught again.

Should you choose the lever, the room will fill with water. You’ll have to watch as everybody in the room drowns, including yourself. You’ll have PLENTY of time to think about what you’ve done, but everybody will technically be ‘free’. You’ll all be free by death.

If you choose the gun, you have an option. You can either shoot one of them, free them and only them by death, or you can shoot yourself. No matter who you choose, everybody else will stay, forced to suffer. Take your pick. Oh, and, you have 60 seconds to pick.”

And with that, they released him and backed out of the room, locking the door as they left.

Well that was-

Certainly something.

Leonardo stepped forward and looked over his options. Picking up the gun, he found out that it only had one bullet. So he really only could shoot one person. It wasn’t a worthwhile decision. He couldn’t bear to leave them, nor look them all in the eyes and kill one of their own. The drowning was a definite no. It had the same result, but with all of them dying instead. Having to watch and explain would be too terrible. The clock was ticking, he had to choose.

Of course, he’d give up his freedom, his sanity in a heartbeat for them. He’d die captive, but they would be free. They’d have to live with his decision, though. They’d have to know he left them.

But it was the best choice, and the clock was ticking.

Leonardo reached his hand out, meeting eyes with his family who he would soon leave, and picked up the chains, twisting and wrapping them around his wrists before stepping back to finalize his decision.

At first, they didn’t know the significance of his choice, but it clicked rather suddenly. When it did, there was disbelief, grief, anger, but no words.

He would have preferred it if they had screamed at him for his choice, but the silence was just fine. It was what he deserved. As he pulled the chains tighter, both doors at each end of the room opened at the same time, and everyone was taken outside.

A cut was made in his shoulder, a chip pushed in afterwards, but Leonardo didn’t feel anything, staring down at his hands. Had he made the right choice? Would they be safe? He couldn’t be certain that these people wouldn’t go back on their word. A bracelet was clipped below the chains, and he was shoved ahead, going upstairs to the roof.

That was a helicopter.

They really were taking him, huh?

Leonardo went in willingly, slowly numbing as time went on.

If he made one more sacrifice, just for them to do something dumb, he swore he would come back from where ever they took him just to strangle them.

Whumptober: That’s Gonna Leave A Mark

Leonardo didn’t mean to get hurt.

Well- Backtrack, he never meant to get hurt any of the times it happened, just this time especially, he didn’t mean it.

Because now, he was alone and bleeding in a pitch black part of the sewers that he knew nothing about with a cut up leg and side, so close his plastron he thought it would peel away, and the water level was still rising. At some point, towards the beginning of the whole mess, he had gotten separated from Raphael too, and he had no idea where he was either. Welcome to Leonardo’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

With a low sigh, he took off his mask, although it was dirty with the sewer waters that was filled with who knows what, and tried to use it to bandage his leg. His hand bandages were already bloody, and he definitely didn’t want to use the ones on his feet to try and get better compression.

He hoped Raphael was alright. He wasn’t sure what had happened after they got separated, and his mind ran wild with thoughts and ideas of what could have happened.

Shaking his head, he went to stand up, and immediately crumpled back down, gripping his leg and feeling warm, sticky blood flow past his fingers.

Shoot.

Leonardo grit his teeth and leaned against the wall, using it for a support as he got back up. He was not going to stay down when he had no idea where he was, nor where he could even go if he had any clue about what section of the sewers he was in.

Jeez, how far had the waters carried him?

It was still raining, too. He could hear it pattering on the concrete above him, driving people into their homes or other shelters to get out of the downpour. At least the water wasn’t rising anymore, by some miracle.

Turtle luck was a strange thing.

Leonardo eyed the black waters below them warily, noting how much they had risen from their normal position. He elbowed Raphael and received a strange look in response, the hothead questioning his brother's sudden alarm.

“Hey, watch out for the water, okay? I don’t want to be out here much longer with it rising like this.”

“Yeah yeah Leo, I get it. I see ‘em too.”

Leonardo wrinkled his beak at the younger’s dismissal of the possible flood, but left it at that, letting him go and continuing to walk.

And the water continued to rise, spilling over the edge, going onto the paths on the side. The two moved farther away from it, but it kept going, rising until it was up to their ankles. By the time they had agreed to try and find some high ground or go back home, it was all the way up to their knees, forcing them to wade through the disgusting water. Past the rushing water and the downpour above them, Leonardo could have sworn he thought he heard something. As he slowed to a halt, he turned to look behind them.

Somebody down here? In this weather? He wondered, searching the darkness.

“Leo?” Raphael rumbled, stopping as well to see what was up, “Didn’t you just say that we needed to get somewhere safe? The water’s-”

Something whistled as though cutting through the air, and embedded itself into the edge of Leonardo’s shell before he had the chance to move.

That was a throwing star.

They were being attacked.

Leonardo stumbled back in now thigh high water. It was rising higher, fighting like this would be clunky and hard to do, risking more severe injuries.

The Foot crept out of the darkness like spiders, red eyes glowing as if they were in some kind of horror movie. Leonardo drew his katanas, eyeing them and waiting for them to come to him and Raphael. He knew Raphael was grinning behind him, looking forward to a fight.

One of them lunged forward, and Leo stepped back, slicing through them like they were butter. That was one down and…

He had no clue how many left.

Another pounced out of the darkness, then another, and one after the other, they charged into battle. Steel met steel, lighting sparks that lit small sections of the sewer for only a moment.

Then a knife went into Leonardo’s side and a gasp of pain escaped him as agony shot through his torso. The blade went down, tearing through skin, making him choke down a scream. The water wasn’t rising anymore, but he could hear a distant rush, it was flooding, they needed to get somewhere high and dry-

The current slammed into his legs and both he and the enemy tumbled, with the weapon carving through his leg as well. A short scream escaped him, it didn’t take long to realize he was moving away from the battle- Scratch that, everybody got taken by the current, moved different directions to many parts of the sewers-

Leonardo slipped and fell, letting out a short yelp of surprise before he hit the ground with a low groan. Fantastic, in disgusting water, injured, and not even able to use anything else to try and bandage the wounds he had. A low growl escaped him as he got back up and pulled his Shell Cell out of his belt. He wondered if it would work still, after being doused with water, and was pleased to find that it did, just barely.

...Nevermind, he did not have data where he was.

There went the relief.

%%%

Leonardo spent hours wandering, maybe more, maybe less, just walking through an unfamiliar patch of sewer with no idea where he was going. Sometimes he knew he was getting higher or lower by the water level, and sometimes he had no clue what direction he was going, nor if he was getting any closer to a place where he could finally leave, or a place that he knew something about.

What he did know, though, was that he had been followed. At some point, he got attacked again, almost ripped apart by the people who were trying to kill him. He had to run, as shameful as it was. He was already bleeding, and somebody stabbed him in his already open wound, trying to limit his movements so that he couldn’t get away.

Later, he felt feverish and sick. He kept coughing, he was tired, at some point he started convulsing, agitating injuries and causing bleeding to start up again.

Shoot. Had that been poisoned?

It wasn’t like he could rip it out, anyway. He wouldn’t get more poisoned because of it, and having the knife there helped keep him from bleeding further.

Leonardo decided to leave it, continuing to limp forward.

%%%

By the time he had finally found his way up to the surface, he felt like he was dying, sickened and still shaking every now and again.

But he did have a chance to contact his family.

Finally.

He swallowed, checking his phone for any data.

Oh yes, he had data, finally.

He also had one hundred and twenty-six unread texts, thirty-seven missed calls, twenty-nine new voicemails, and multiple people’s locations shared to him around fourteen times.

Leonardo let out a short breath and sat down, huddled between a dumpster and the wall of a building, scrolling through the messages.

Coffee_In_Sight (Donnie): Leo?

ketchuprelishicecream (Mikey): BRO WHERE R U

Raph.JustRaph (Raph): were getting worried

Raph.JustRaph (Raph): we’re*

Raph.JustRaph (Raph): get your shell back here

Coffee_In_Sight (Donnie): Raph says he lost you, Leo

Coffee_In_Sight (Donnie): Are you hurt???

Coffee_In_Sight (Donnie): Where are you?

Coffee_In_Sight (Donnie): Dude, you better start answering soon

ketchuprelishicecream (Mikey): u better find us soon

ketchuprelishicecream (Mikey): i’ll cry if u don’t

Coffee_In_Sight (Donnie): The lair flooded, we had to leave

Raph.JustRaph (Raph): i shared my location for Don

Raph.JustRaph (Raph): so get over here

More and more, along those lines, asking where he was, if he was okay, that he better start responding. He put his phone on a low volume, listening to the voicemails that had almost the same content, besides Raphael’s being more… Colorful, to say the least.

Shell, he had worried them.

They thought something really bad had happened to him, that maybe he had drowned or been killed by an enemy while exploring, trying to find a way back up!

A harsh, rattling cough escaped him, leaving him shaking and gasping. The poison was getting to him, and he needed to find a way to fight it, fast. He hesitated while looking through to see which one of his brothers would respond the fastest if he called them. Raphael held the title of being the second fastest, Leonardo being the first.

He pressed the call button, and waited.

Exactly two rings went by, and Raphael responded.

"LEO! Where the shell have you been?! You've been gone since yesterday morning!"

Leonardo blinked and swallowed. Yesterday? He thought it had only been a few hours, not a full day.

A convulsion shook Leonardo, and he bit his lip to keep from crying out. They were getting more frequent, he noted. Should he be worried about that?

“Leo?” Raphael’s voice was softer that time.

“Hey, um-” Leonardo breathed, tapping his knee with his free hand, “So you know how we got in that fight before we were separated? Um, I may or may not have been poisoned, sometime after that.. I think.” Raphael’s breathing hitched, and Leonardo rushed to fix his statement. “Not- Not that it’s bad, or anything! I made it this long, so it can’t be that bad-”

“Can ya count to ten?”

He sounded skeptical, probably from Leonardo’s bad track record of downplaying his injuries, or anything else that happened to be wrong with him.

“What?”

“Count to ten fer me, if it ain’t that bad.”

Again, what? Of course he could count to ten, it wasn’t hard-

...It was hard.

Leonardo got lost at four, needing to pause and repeat himself before then trying to keep going.

“Mhm, that’s what I thought. Hold on for just a second, mkay? I’ll be right back.”

There was silence for a few minutes, then Raphael returned.

“Alright, do you think you can walk to where we are since you have our location?”

“I think so, I mean, I walked a map in the sewers so…”

“Okay, we’ll be waiting, alright Leo? Don’t do something stupid, and get here as fast as you can.”

And just like that, he had hung up. Leonardo took a shaky breath, pocketed his phone, and stood back up, practically crawling through alleyways and over rooftops as he followed the path to their location.

It was a long abandoned office building, high enough to be safe from water if the streets happened to flood. He gripped his leg when sudden burning pain burst out and dropped to his knees, mouth open in silent, unheard screams. Moments after, he convulsed again, crimson blood pouring past his fingers and down his side, the rain washing it off of him and filling the air with the scent of copper, copper and rot. It wasn’t just blood, he finally realized. There was infection, and infection meant pus. When the convulsions ended, he gasped for air and shakily stood back up. They were right there, they were so close, just a few more steps…

Leonardo stumbled forward, creeping in through a hole in the concrete, and was almost immediately met with screaming.

Raphael gripped his arms, shaking him lightly.

“You frickin’ idiot, fearless! What were you-”

He trailed off, eyes fixating on the injury with festering infection, a knife in his leg that he never removed so that he wouldn’t bleed more than before. Then there was a crash, and Donatello came running after Raphael to try and see the brother who they thought was missing. He paused, shooing Michelangelo so that he wouldn’t have to see the rather gory injury.

He ended up prying Raphael off while he was frozen to the spot, and dragged Leonardo along, forcing him to sit down in the spot he deemed the cleanest to look him over.

“Well…” Donatello began. Him trailing off was not a good beginning. “I can probably fix up your side easily but, your leg is… Your leg is certainly something. You should be glad the infection didn’t get in your side, too. I’ll- I’ll have to see what I can do, but this looks bad. Just rest now, alright?”

Leonardo didn’t respond, looking it over. In the darkness of those flooded sewers, he hadn’t realized just how bad it had really gotten. He knew now, though. In some places the tissue had begun to grow black, most likely dead and rotting. The skin around the injury had paled from blood loss, and it was a wonder he had survived, he thought. His whole right side was cut up, blood and pus having doused his side. He was freaking filthy, too. He didn’t want to think about what he had been trudging through in the time he was down there.

“-alright?”

“Hm?”

“Oh, sorry- Um, so, from what I’m seeing, you have a really nasty infection in your leg, and some poison that probably was probably just meant to make you really, really sick. I don’t think I can save the tissue around the injury… Most of it has rotten from the infection, and if we don’t want it spreading, I’ll have to cauterize it to try and burn the poison out, and get rid of all the dead tissue in there.

And- We don’t have any anesthesia available, but from what I’m seeing, we don’t have the time to wait to get it. I’m so sorry, Leo, I didn’t know we would need it-”

“Oh,” Leonardo said, already having accepted his fate, “This is gonna suck.”

“I’m so sorry… Raph, can you- Can you hold him? For safety reasons.”

Raphael, now snapped out of his stupor, blinked a few times, looked between them, and nodded dutifully, grabbing onto Leonardo’s shoulders while whispering apologies.

After that was a blur of bright and dark, suppressed screams, and fighting kicking.

When it was over, he was shaking, blinking while Donatello examined his work. Oh god, that was burnt flesh he smelled. He had to swallow, praying he wouldn’t throw up.

“I’m so sorry- This isn’t- I didn’t think-” Donatello whispered and looked up to Leonardo with wide, tearful eyes.

“It’s alright, Donnie,” Leonardo whispered back, gripping Raphael’s hands with almost crushing force. “You’re just doing what you can, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure? You won’t- You’ll have a hard time walking for a while, if not the rest of your life, I had to burn out a lot of tissue.”

“Don, I’ve already got the knees of an old man, it can’t get much worse.”

Donatello cracked a sad smile at the joke, then went on with the list, trying to get it over with.

“When we get home, here’s what we’ll need to do for recovery, to make the best out of the situation, okay?…”

Oh. That was a long list.

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: Feed A Cold, Starve A Fever

It was getting colder. As the autumn months ended and faded into winter, the chill had gotten worse, and they had been needing to bundle up as much as they safely could and cut back on their time on the surface to avoid accidentally falling into hibernation.

Still, Leonardo sometimes went out solo. Not for long, of course, he wasn’t stupid, just for brisk morning runs or to cool off after an argument. He made sure to put something warm on, he had told Donatello when he found out, who was very concerned about his winter outings.

Now, usually these went well. And sometimes they ended in him throwing himself at a gang harassing some poor person who was just trying to get home from a tiring nine to five job.

Sometimes, that ended in him getting shot in the leg and tied to a fence.

The oldest of the group cackled as Leonardo struggled with the bindings, mocking his situation. Every weapon he had was pushed against the opposite wall, out of his reach, so that he couldn’t cut through the ropes even if he tried. Not just that, anything that was previously warm was thrown into the ground, half soaked in blood and frozen. He could already feel chill, sending shivers down his spine. Shoot.

“Not so tough now, are you?” One of them taunted, having the audacity to saunter closer and rest a gloved hand on his face.

Leonardo smirked, then bit them, hard.

With a sharp cry, they ripped their hand away, rubbing it and swearing under their breath before turning to glare at him.

"Shoulda muzzled the stupid thing too…" They muttered darkly, then tilted their head away from Leo. "C'mon, let's get out of here. If it's still alive when we get back, we'll make sure that it learns its lesson."

They were coming back? His beak wrinkled as they left. He didn't plan on sticking around long enough for them to do anything to him. A chain link fence rattled behind him as he pulled against the wrist ropes. He couldn’t stay there long. The air was chilling more and more as nighttime approached, the dull oranges and midnight blues fading away into black. Leonardo knew what he was risking by staying out too long, they all did. Stupid turtle DNA.

His breath misted in the air in front of him, leaving a small cloud for a moment before it dissipated. That wasn’t a good sign, that was-

There was the first snow of the season, of the month.

Shoot.

He was already getting sluggish, the ice falling off of him as soon as he struggled and kicked. He was getting weak, he wouldn’t be able to make it home, not at this rate, and it was already dark-

There was a thin sheet of snow over him, occasionally disturbed by harsh shivers or sudden, jerky movements. When did that happen? How long had he been there, that it was beginning to gather like that? People’s Christmas lights had already gone up, towards the beginning of December, and were now reflecting on glistening snow, vibrant reds and greens. He knew Michelangelo would like the way it looked. He would have to take him down here when this whole mess was over.

Right, stuck, tied to a fence. He couldn’t risk letting himself be still for too long, who knew how long it would be before he slipped into hibernation. Leonardo tugged again at the ropes before they froze, leaning forward to try and snap them with his body weight, but only succeeded in putting himself in an uncomfortable situation.

Oh, he was really stuck. But he needed to get back to the others, before they started worrying, if they hadn’t already. There was a bullet in his leg anyway, more vibrant red staining the snow, leaving him trembling harder as any left over heat left his body. Struggles began to cease, sleep tugging at his mind and trying to pull his eyelids shut.

A voice in the back of his mind called for him to rest, to close his eyes and not wake up until Spring. Leonardo really wished that his instinct would shut up for two minutes and let him be aware of his situation so that he could figure a way out.

But nooo, nothing could be easy for him, could it?

He was still slipping, he was still losing the ability to think and remember. Remember that he needed to stay awake and get home, that he had been shot and he might not be able to keep going if he closed his eyes, that he was risking not waking up. He hadn’t been abandoned there, he hadn’t.

He hadn’t been abandoned, so maybe he could close his eyes for just a bit…

%%%

“What the- Don, he’s over here!”

“Oh my- Leo! Shoot, what were you thinking? You idiot!”

“Is he okay?”

“No, Mikey. From the looks of it, he’s fallen asleep, which means he might be hibernating right now, pretty much. He’s also really hot, so he’s definitely sick from the cold, considering how long he had to have been out here for this much snow to gather. It’s like a blanket! Not to mention the bullet wound in his leg.”

“That little- What was he thinking?”

“I don’t know Raph, but we need to get him home now, before he freezes. Grab his things. Mikey, you’ll help me get him down, I need to keep a close eye on him anyway.”

%%%

That idiot.

What was he thinking, heading out that early for a morning run? What if he had been left out in the open and somebody had seen him? They knew the risks of getting seen by a human. They would be taken, most likely experimented on, and then dissected to see what made them go “tick”. Medical experimentation was not always done… Ethically.

Still, despite his worries, his brother was there, laying on that couch in a basking spot with a blanket, alive (although much less than well) and safe, for the most part. As safe as they could get. All they needed to do was get him out of hibernation, then see about his sickness afterwards.

The heat might have been too much. He was already feverish from staying out in the cold for God knows how long, and his temperature was rising by the minute. Raphael wasn’t comfortable with leaving him there for long, considering how warm his older brother was getting.

Then, by some kind of miracle, he woke up. Leonardo started slow, blinking sleepily and looking around, dazed. He struggled with the blanket for a second, but managed to remove it without Raphael’s help. Still, Raphael watched him for a long minute, making sure that he didn’t need help with anything. Was that weird, to just watch him? He didn’t think it was, they did that plenty.

“Don, he’s awake,” Raphael called and scooched just a tad closer even as Leonardo coughed into his elbow. To heck with sickness, he didn’t care.

Closer, now, he could tell that the older of the two was shivering, even though he felt as though he were burning to the touch.

Fantastic, he really was sick.

Donatello came running, immediately looking Leonardo over and grabbing his cheeks in his hands, despite the quiet protests. After a long moment, he moved Leonardo out of the heated spot on the couch, into somewhere much cooler, and set the blanket beside him. Offering it, but not forcing it on him.

Leonardo trembled and coughed again. “How’d you find me, anyway?”

“There’s a tracker in your phone, Leo. There’s a tracker in everybody’s phone.”

“Oh.”

They left it at that, Donatello curling up next to Leonardo, before finally asking:

“What were you thinking? I’ve told you time and time again, we shouldn’t go up as much when it’s cold out!”

Leonardo sneezed, and said nothing, head dipped in shame. Donatello wrinkled his beak, preparing to further his talk, but decided not to at the last minute.

Raphael bit his tongue to keep back a laugh. Leonardo, of all people, getting lectured? He never thought he would live to see the day, but there he was.

%%%

Later that night, Donatello discharged Leonardo to his own room. Told him to call him if he needed anything at all, and that he planned on checking on the bullet wound in the morning.

Leonardo, being Leonardo, agreed.

%%%

“This is your fault, Leo!”

No, he- He thought he left those fears, long ago. He thought that after the mushrooms, it would be over!

“You failed us!”

He- He didn’t. He didn’t. He didn’t. Right? Right?

Still, Raphael stood above him, hollow eyes that would haunt anyone, a blade pushed between the cracks in Leonardo’s plastron. His bloody plastron, he noticed. They were definitely a gory sight, bleeding from almost everywhere, looking akin to zombies, and that was-

Not his blood.

Theirs.

Not his, theirs. Their blood, coating his scales, on his hands, everywhere, tinging the air copper. Something he never wanted to be around again.

And he wanted to cry. He wanted so badly to scream at them that he was trying his best, he couldn’t do everything, but he knew, he knew: They were right. It was his job to keep them safe, as their brother and leader.

So when Raphael pushed the sword into his torso, Leonardo did not cry or beg for mercy. He only screamed as the burning pain laced its way into his very being, tearing his atoms apart, hot coals in his body-

Leonardo had dreamed screaming, he woke up screaming, hand over his plastron, still feeling that agony, that splitting agony that coursed through him and-

The shoji slid open, his family raced in- He disappointed them, they were going to hurt him, they were going to kill him-

Leonardo rolled out of bed, dizzy as it made him, and grabbed his katana, screaming at them.

“Stay back!” he stumbled, fell back, and was distantly aware that he could have accidentally cut himself. That wasn’t important though, what was was staying alive.

“Hey, what the-” Raphael said- Leaning forward, a weapon in his hand, black eyes, disappointed, bloody. He was angry, Leonardo couldn’t stop seeing it-

“What’s wrong with him, Don?” Michelangelo said. He sounded afraid, afraid of Leonardo but Leonardo should have been afraid of them, as wrong as it felt.

“I- I think it’s a fever dream?” Donatello moved forward, reaching out to grab him.

No, they all moved forward, he was going to die, going to die in that tiny space and it was his fault, his fault, his fault-

He had a sword, to Mikey’s face, to the baby’s face, and still Michelangelo pleaded, voice soft from a bad attempt at soothing him. At his sides, Raphael and Donatello had circled around his sides to grab him, should the need arise, because he was about to hurt one of his own.

“Oh,” Leonardo whispered as he dropped the sword, the clatter of metal against concrete too loud in his ears, “Oh my God. I’m so sorry-”

They didn’t say anything at first. Good, he didn’t want or deserve the condolences, but then-

"You're alright now, Leo. It was just a dream, nothing more, you don’t have to apologize if you just put the sword down."

They still were worried for him, even after he tried to hurt them? What if he tried it again? What if the dreams came back? He would disappoint them, when they put so much faith in him-

Leonardo faintly remembers letting go of the other katana that he still had at his side. He’d grabbed both in his panic, just in case one got away from him. The world was spinning, now, and that’s not something the world was supposed to do.

“No, no, I was-” he paused to cough, a harsh, wracking cough that made his chest hurt and it felt like there was sandpaper in his lungs, “-I was going to hurt you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

He cut off, not because of his own guilt. There was something amiss, the world was still spinning, and that wasn’t good, he should probably say something.

Raphael reached out.

Leonardo said something.

“Bucket-”

Thankfully, they realized rather quickly what he meant, and there was a bucket in front of him. Pretty much completely empty, he ended up dry heaving, coughing afterwards. It still hurt, in his chest, his plastron, his whole torso, actually. But at least now the room wasn’t tipping, even though they were all still looking at him like he was dying.

“Sorry…” He mumbled again, pushing it away and leaning back. The room felt suffocating with four people in it although there was barely anything to make it feel cluttered, so much open space that there shouldn’t have been any crowding at all.

“Mikey,” Donatello finally started, “Make him some tea. The peppermint stuff, we’re just gonna- Leave, for now-”

“NO!” The answer was sudden and Leonardo hated it, but he didn’t want to be alone, not just then. “No,” He corrected, “Please, don’t leave.” He thought he had escaped those fears a long time ago, but the truth was that they never left. They only faded over time, became less vivid so that when he woke up he never remembered them. Now, he was sick and most likely delirious. They were almost lucid. Almost.

Donatello shifted nervously. “Alright, the couch it is, I guess.”

Leonardo nodded and hopped onto his feet. Raphael grabbed his arm when he got unsteady, and the blue-banded turtle had to force himself not to pull away or start screaming. This was not one of his dreams. He was awake, they were all alive, he hadn’t disappointed anyone yet.

They moved slowly, allowing him to limp and favor his injured leg, so that shortly after getting to the couch, Michelangelo had popped out of the kitchen, holding a warm cup of tea. It was promptly shoved into Leonardo’s hands as the youngest wormed between the two oldest, snuggling between them. Each started doing their own thing, not entirely what to do or say after that event, but that was fine by Leonardo, as long as he had them there with him and knowing that they were safe and alive.

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: 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: The Doctor Is In

Leonardo fixed a wary gaze on the dark figure moving around in the shadows, switching between multiple laptops and a phone while mumbling to themself. A couple moments later, they gave a triumphant laugh, and picked up a syringe. His breathing started spiralling out of control, as it had multiple times in the past couple of days.

Calm, he needed to be calm. What situation was he in, what could he control?

Well, he was bound and gagged, and probably about to get experimented on but-

He could control his breathing and how he reacted to this situation. In, and out. In-

A needle was pushed into his neck and he choked down a whine as he was nearly overwhelmed with exhaustion. The person who injected him with the mystery fluid smirked and grabbed his (his? His, that was a he, Leonardo could see better now) phone. He turned the lights up and forced Leonardo to squint in the sudden, blinding light. Whoever captured him smirked, and held up the phone with the camera pointed at him.

"You’re going to be broadcasted now, everybody will know that there are aliens," Leonardo's rage boiled. They were not aliens (he had been spending far too much time with Donatello). They spent most of their time protecting Earth from aliens! “Remember to smile for the camera."

%%%

They searched everywhere.

Everywhere.

Literally, all across the city, every building they could get to, turning places inside out, scouring the surface for their missing brother. It was like he had just disappeared. The tracker in his phone had stopped working all of a sudden, and they were left in the dark as to where he might've been. Seriously, they nearly beat someone to death looking for clues, for God's sake! Where was he?

They were going on a wild goose chase with no good outcome if they had zero idea where he disappeared to, a handful of leads, and barely any clues. At that point, they were desperate. They'd take anything given to them, as long as they got closer to solving the mystery.

Suddenly, the city lighting changed while they were looking around. There was a deafening sound of microphone feedback from multiple points across the city, forcing everybody to cover their ears, mutant or human. The city went silent.

New York City was not supposed to be silent.

Three brothers tensed and looked up when the sound had passed, tense and ready for a fight.

But there was no threat, just some dude in his mid-twenties in a brightly lit room. He looked like Bishop, almost. If Bishop was about ten years younger, had longer hair, and a ton more spunk and energy. Donatello got drained just by looking at him, and that was saying something, considering he had Michelangelo as a brother.

But this kid had also apparently found a way to access every large screen in New York, so that probably wasn't good.

"People of New York!" He began, "Believe me if you will, but I have found an alien!"

Donatello and Raphael shared a look, something skeptical, wary, and incredulous. Michelangelo was enthralled, as if aliens were something new to him. The camera turned quickly, a blur of white and blue and green and-

The three blanched as they took in the sight, and people gasped below.

Leonardo, tied hand and foot with a gag in his mouth. Leonardo, looking far more tired than before he left. Leonardo, bandaged and stitched in some places. Dread hit Donatello first, followed by unadulterated rage. So that’s where he had been all that time. Probably, he had been right underneath their noses, and yet they just never saw it. Now, he paid the price.

"I suspect that there are more, not just this one. This is just the beginning of something bigger."

There were a few murmurs from below, as if the people of New York hadn't lived through multiple invasions that they stopped. It wasn't anything new. Had this kid- Correction: Man- Been living in a bubble?

"Today, my dear people, I will be running experiments. We, together, are going to see what makes it go tick. What can we move today? If any other aliens are watching, this is a threat. We have one of your own, I'd recommend backing off of our planet."

Donatello felt sick and turned away when the sounds started up. Sounds of tools he knew, but would never even think of using on his family, or anyone for that matter. It got worse, muffled screams of agony reaching him even through his oldest brother's gag, the background noise of machinery, and the speaker that Donatello doubted was any good. The wails came through crystal clear, as if there was nothing to block it with.

Raphael covered Michelangelo's ears as the youngest borrowed into his plastron, choking back sobs.

It took a minute for Donatello to realize that he himself was trembling madly, unable to get relief from the second-hand torture until the government eventually interfered. This broadcast was definitely not under official order.

“They’re-” Michelangelo cried, “They’re hurting him! They’re hurting him, we have to do something!”

“What we need to do is find him.” Donatello curled his hands into fists so that his knuckles turned white, “He’ll kill him at this rate.”

Raphael, for the first time in a while, served as a voice of reason. “But everybody has seen Leo now. The people who don’t think it’s a hoax will be actively looking for us and the Mutanimals-”

“I don’t care,” Donatello hissed, trying to keep his voice low, “that’s our brother he’s experimenting on, and I’m not leaving him.”

“Don’t make a scene, Don.” Raphael looked down and tried to soothe Michelangelo without moving his hands away from his ears, “We’ll be found sooner if you do.”

Donatello took a breath and tried to soothe his frayed nerves. That was… Incredibly uncharacteristic of him. He shouldn’t have lashed out at Raphael like that, it wasn’t his fault. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Raphael nodded, and started moving, hesitantly taking his hands off of Michelangelo’s ears and nudging him to move. Donatello would have preferred it if he had yelled back.

They went around their usual area, going back to places where they thought they were on to something, and people had gotten fleeting glances at their missing brother. Donatello tried to block out the wails, to no avail. It was just a constant reminder that they were so close, yet so far.

Don’t give up yet, he reminded himself, You’ll be giving up on him if you do that.

Below them, there was a great deal of reactions from people. Some had their phones out, either recording (ew) or calling a number. Others had covered childrens’ eyes and ears, and were moving away, trying to get away from the gruesome experimentation. The rest were skeptical, afraid, wary, angry, or morbidly fascinated. Donatello wished that the screens would go back to their normal ads and programs already, anything, just not having to witness his oldest brother in splintering agony.

Half an hour passed. Wails and screams turned to soft cries and grunts, then silence beside ragged breathing.

Donatello risked sneaking a look, and froze like a deer in headlights.

He shouldn’t- He shouldn’t have looked like that. There was blood everywhere, splattered on clothes, on scales, on the floor and walls, but unfortunately not onto the camera. There were some things missing, removed by a mad doctor who was probably out of his mind. Leonardo was wrecked almost beyond recognition, if Donatello hadn’t seen his brother just moments earlier.

He bit back a sob, unable to look away. It was unethical. It was gruesome. It was awful.

Michelangelo grabbed his shoulder, jolting him out of his paralysis. Donatello turned to look at him and realized that there were tears flowing down his own cheeks. Behind him, the sounds finally stopped, the lighting changed. The screens were finally back under control. Raphael joined Michelangelo’s side and nodded to Donatello, looking about as sorrowful as Donatello felt.

%%%

They had no leads, had to (literally) go underground to avoid getting caught, and couldn’t even go up to the surface to help with investigation. Casey and April took over the investigation, but didn’t have much luck either. They were getting desperate, grasping at straws. They’d take anything at that point, just remembering seeing that madman play with Leonardo’s body like he was a doll, ripping him almost to pieces.

%%%

Leonardo gasped in pain and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to assess the damage. His head was swimming from the pain and blood loss, he could barely remember his own name at the moment, but if he wanted to find a way out, he needed to remember what was not going to move and what wasn’t there anymore.

Shoot, at this rate, how did he even plan on living to the next day? He needed to get out fast, but his body wouldn’t move when he told it to, it wouldn’t even budge.

The male from earlier came back, holding another syringe filled with ominous blue liquid. Oh. Oh, no. His day just kept getting better and better, huh?

%%%

“I FOUND SOMETHING!” April yelled as she busted into the lair.

Everybody was on their feet immediately, ready to take anybody out and get Leonardo back.

“His name is Alek Wright, twenty-four, American. He just graduated college recently, believes in the supernatural, and is extremely unethical and willing to take risks.”

Oh. That explained a lot about why he was so eager to move things around that should not have been moving. He really was a “mad scientist”.

Raphael bit the inside of his cheek.

There was blood everywhere, splattered on clothes, on scales, on the floor and walls, but unfortunately not onto the camera. There were some things missing, removed by a mad man. Leonardo was wrecked almost beyond recognition, ripped to pieces on camera.

“What are we waiting for?” he growled and shook his head to clear away the image. “We need to go find him. You got an address of some kind?”

April nodded and led them outside. He prayed that they wouldn’t be too late, and that there wouldn’t just be a bloody mess waiting for them.

%%%

“This is the place?” Raphael whispered, itching to just get in and get his older brother already.

April nodded, and Raphael wrinkled his nose. It definitely fit the “lab” description. Tall building, definitely not housing, multiple floors, and clearly well maintained and used frequently. How the heck did this dude get a hold of a building like that? There was no way that he wasn’t part of something official if he got his hands on something so professional looking.

“Then let's get in and get Leo!” Michelangelo huffed and fidgeted, trying to stare through the windows.

Donatello nodded, and looked to Raphael, the leader while Leonardo was gone. He nodded back, and the four, including April, snuck inside. They wandered around a bit, looking for something, anything, and then-

Blood. Lots, and lots of blood, trailing into a room. Logically, they followed it into a separate room, one with multiple pieces of well-used equipment, computers, bright lights and-

Leonardo. Bloody and half dead, multiple pieces of his body replaced with something else, and asleep. Or maybe unconscious? Perhaps he passed out from the blood loss. Either way, Raphael didn’t know. But he did know that he was running towards his oldest brother as fast as he could and crouching in front of him, a hand on his neck to check his pulse.

It was weak and kept stuttering, but it was there. He was alive.

“Oniichan,” Raphael breathed, “We’re here for you, don’t worry. We’ll get you out of this pit.”

“HA!” Came a victorious laugh from behind them, “I was right! There are-”

Gone. Before Raphael knew what he was doing, he had stood up and whirled on his heel, tossing multiple kunai into that mad man’s face. It wasn’t the most ethical thing he could have done, but it worked, and he was dead at their feet. Nobody said anything, probably satisfied with the outcome. The “doctor” would never bother them again.

Donatello helped Raphael pick Leonardo up, hovering around him nervously and occasionally holding his hand over Leonardo like it would do something. Raphael felt a pang of pity for his younger brother, but refused to let Leonardo go, not so soon after finding him.

%%%

At home, Donatello had hooked Leonardo up to multiple machines and sat nearby for watch while waiting for him to wake up. He had to set multiple things right on Leonardo’s body if he wanted anything to go well.

A soft sigh of relief escaped him as he settled to just listen to the steady heartbeat belonging to his oldest brother. He was alive, he was alive, he was-

It flatlined, and Donatello stumbled to his feet, reaching over to Leonardo. CPR, he knew CPR, but it had to be shorter than a minute, or he wouldn’t be able to do it. Shorter than a minute-

Raphael and Michelangelo came flying in, and hovered nearby when they saw Donatello doing CPR. They’d need to be there if Donatello couldn’t do it.

He barely noticed them, though, repeating the mantra “30 compressions, 2 breaths” in his head. If he forgot, he would never let himself live it down.

It took longer than a minute. Donatello had to step back, trembling from exhaustion, and let Raphael take over. He couldn’t get him back either, and Michelangelo went next. When that failed, Donatello went next, repeating the mantra again. Then the heartbeat started back up again, and the relief in the room was almost palpable. Some way, somehow, he was still kicking.

“Well,” Donatello said, “I think I’m going to take a nap now before my heart fails me too. Mikey, can you watch him? Wake me up if something goes wrong.”

Whumptober: Just A Scratch

Leonardo swept one of his katanas down in a graceful arc, tearing open skin like paper and watching the blood spray. His enemy howled in pain, stumbled back, and gripped their injury to try and stem the bleeding, casting a glare at him. They were some werewolf looking group of mutants, nothing too bad as long as none of them-

Apparently, while he was dealing with one, the other two had circled around to his sides, and one had decided to sink its teeth deep into her arm. He grit his teeth, dug his heels into the ground, and slashed at its face as an effective method to dislodge it.

"Get!" He yelled and made a wide gesture with his arms.

The rogue mutants yelped and scrambled to get away, bouncing over each other in their efforts to run back into their hiding places.

Leonardo huffed. Hopefully, he wouldn't have to see or hear about them for a long time.

He turned his attention to the bite wound on his arm and examined it carefully. It wasn't too deep, more like a surface wound then anything. A thin stream of blood trickled down his forearm. He raised an eye ridge, unimpressed by the injuries his enemies had given to him. Reaching down to the little medical pouch he had, Leonardo pulled out some antiseptic and dressed the bite mark before wrapping it tightly. It would heal quickly.

%%%

When he got home, Leonardo spent some time with his family. A promised spar with Raphael, a conference with Donatello to help him with a project he had been struggling with, some gaming with Michelangelo.

As the late hours came along, though, there was a faint feeling of misplacement that didn't belong. He said goodnight and went to bed early, hoping that would do something for his health.

%%%

Michelangelo didn't usually wake up early, but sometimes, that sixth sense specifically meant for finding danger started going off in the middle of the night. That was usually worth listening to.

So that was how he found himself waking up in the dead of night to Leonardo standing over his bedside, holding a tanto blade high above his head, and visibly trembling.

"Don't do it," Michelangelo whispered to Leonardo's shadow, "Please, don't do it. This isn't funny, Leo." Of course it wasn't funny. Leonardo didn't make jokes often, but when he did, they were nothing like this.

Suddenly, Leonardo fell backwards and dropped the blade, thankfully not on Michelangelo. He scooched backwards, and in the darkness, Michelangelo could vaguely see him curling up.

The youngest sat up, squinting. "Are- Are you okay? Leo, are you-"

"I don't know what's going on." His voice was soft, so impossibly soft that he had to strain to hear it.

"Yeah, I can- I can tell."

"Don't tell them, please. I think I can handle this, just- Don't tell them."

Michelangelo hesitated. On one hand, Leonardo was going to kill him, whether he realized it or not. He had been hovering over his bedside with a knife, ready to release him to death.

On the other hand, it almost reminded him of when they were just little children, whispering in the dark not to tell Splinter about something they had done wrong. In the end-

"Just lock my door on the way out, don’t pick the lock, and we'll be good until I wake up."

"Okay. I- Okay."

%%%

Leonardo didn't stay. He left the lair entirely. He didn't want to risk hurting Michelangelo again, or any of his brothers.

%%%

"He still hasn't moved?"

"Nope," Raphael popped the p, looking Leonardo over.

Two hours, and he still hadn't moved from the seiza position. Unless he was under some extreme stress, Leonardo didn't meditate for over half an hour in the morning. Michelangelo still wasn't awake, so he wasn't of any help either.

“You should poke him.”

“Why me?”

“Because if he gets upset or startled, you have a lesser chance of getting taken down.”

“...Fine.”

Raphael crept towards Leonardo, wary of startling the older turtle, and gave him a gentle tap on the shoulder.

“Leo, bro? You good?”

Leonardo remained unmoving for a long minute, not responding to Raphael’s prodding. Raphael raised a single eye ridge, getting concerned. Had he fallen asleep? That was very unlike the oldest, who was usually so studious and alert. He moved to give Leonardo a rougher push, maybe that would get him out of it.

“Hey, Leo-”

His eyes slid open, and Raphael let go. There he was, finally awake-

Suddenly, Leonardo lunged forward, drawing his katanas and slamming into Raphael full force. Raphael brought his arms up just in time to block the hit, but still skidded backwards, eyes wide from shock. Did- Did he just-?

There was no time to think, Leonardo was already moving to make his next attack. Raphael drew his sai.

“Dude, what is this?! Snap out of it!”

Donatello ran into the unexpected fight to help Raphael, trying not to hurt Leonardo while still keeping him back. Still, Leonardo was definitely a lot stronger than expected, and Raphael got the feeling that the “prodigal son” hadn’t really been using everything he learned until just now. Shoot. Leonardo knocked Donatello down, sending him across the room, and turned to Raphael with a predator’s gaze. Shoot.

He rolled out of the way as Leonardo came running at him, only for it to be a fake move and get shoved to the ground, efficiently pinned by the older (and apparently strong) of the two. Donatello, having recovered from his stunned state, came running back and gave Leonardo a hard shove, throwing him off if only for a second.

Then Michelangelo joined, slightly disheveled and looking like he had just woken up, but at least he was there.

Blood sprayed and for a moment, everybody (including Leonardo, Raphael noted) froze. Then the battle continued.

Raphael regretted not asking Leonardo before about if he was holding back on them, because now? Now it was definitely clear, and he really wished that he had known about it sooner. Leonardo easily overpowered them, beating them down and aiming for a killing blow whenever he got the chance.

“Leo!” Michelangelo called out, “Bro, it’s us! Calm down-!” He swung the nunchuks, trying to wrap the chains around his oldest brother and restrain him for the time being. Instead, he accidentally hooked one of the blades in Leonardo’s skin.

Leonardo froze. Of course it wasn’t from pain, he was Leonardo “Supernatural Pain Tolerance” Hamato. Raphael hoped it was him coming back to them, but he still had to be wary, just in case this was some kind of trick to make them let their guard down.

Donatello and Michelangelo took the chance, unlike Raphael, and lunged forward, grabbing Leonardo and pinning him down while Michelangelo worked on wrapping the chains around him. Leonardo kicked and thrashed, honest to God hissing at them, and Raphael came to aid them in restraining him.

They pulled him back to a sturdy column, and tied him there, as uncomfortable as if made them. If it needed to be done, then, well...

"Is anybody hurt?" Donatello said at last, "Is anybody bit, or something like that? If this is anything like the time with those wasps, then it'll be good to know now rather than later."

Everyone took a moment to look themselves over. The only injuries seemed to be caused by something artificial, and Raphael swore that he would have noticed if he was bitten.

Donatello nodded, relieved, and crept down to Leonardo's side, moving away fresh bandages to look at the injuries underneath.

"Yeah, look here. Bite mark. Something infected him-"

Leonardo suddenly lunged forward, snapping at Donatello and making sounds that sounded almost inhuman. Raphael darted over to grab the chains because the last thing they needed was Leonardo getting loose.

Donatello froze, his breathing hitching for a second before he leaned back, grabbed a syringe, and leaned closer again.

"Keep holding him, I need a blood sample to try and figure out an antidote."

The oldest behaved actually rather well, going very still and not moving again until Donatello had pulled away. Maybe he was coming back? Even if if was just for a second, he stopped.

%%%

"He's gone!"

"Mikey, who?"

"Leo!"

“What?! Did you get bit? Are there any scratches or anything?”

“No, but Leo’s loose! Raph went after him, but he got a little messed up on the way."

"Then we need to go! The antidote will be ready by the time we're back."

Michelangelo led the way, taking Donatello to where he had left Raphael and Leonardo, who were now battling it out. Well, more accurately, Leonardo was attacking a thoroughly injured Raphael who had to fall back on defense to stay alive.

Then, Leonardo noticed Michelangelo and Donatello. In one smooth, graceful movement, he had Michelangelo in his grip, holding a blade to his throat and backing up. A hostage. They didn't usually take hostages.

Donatello paused and didn't risk moving. Then, he started moving backwards. I'll be back, he mouthed, slowly moving home.

Once Donatello was gone, Michelangelo whined softly, “Raphie-”

Leonardo pushed the blade ever closer to Michelangelo’s throat. He wasn’t playing, that was clear enough. Raphael shivered in terror. He never thought that Leonardo wouldn’t threaten them, even under the influence of something that took him out of his right mind-

No, he wasn’t out of his mind. He was being controlled, moving against his will. It was obvious in the hesitation, the attempts to not attack them, all the times he had suddenly lapsed out of his aggressive behavior. It was all right there. He was right there, but Raphael just didn’t see it. Beneath the controlled state was still Leonardo, as protective as ever, fighting to keep them safe and losing.

At that moment, Leonardo needed Raphael to step up, not to return the hostile behavior. “Leo,” he murmured. “Leo, it’s us. Don’t- Don’t hurt him. You’ll be alright, just put the sword down.”

Raphael swallowed and hoped that his words were doing something. He didn’t think he could take losing one of his brothers.

Leonardo hesitated, actually hesitated, and lowered the blade just a bit, his gaze wavering as he regarded Raphael coldly. C’mon, Raphael silently screamed, Come back to us, idiot.

Then, Donatello reappeared, now behind Leonardo and jabbed a needle into his shoulder. Leonardo shuddered and twisted before collapse, releasing both the sword and Michelangelo in the process.

Donatello grabbed him and slowly lowered him to the ground. "I think it worked?" He called as Michelangelo joined Raphael at his side. “Give it a minute, I think we have him back.”

A few seconds passed before Leonardo gasped softly and blinked a few times. He looked around, grabbed Donatello’s hand, and almost immediately shrunk back.

“Oh.”

He swore under his breath.

“I’m sorry. Oh my God I’m so sorry-”

Leonardo scrambled up to his feet and tore away, backing away from them.

“Leo, you weren’t aware of it.” Raphael soothed, even though Michelangelo was still hiding. “It was like the wasps all over again, alright? It wasn’t you doing it.”

"However,” Donatello interjected, “you will be telling us the whole story while I run some tests."

%%%

“Well,” Raphael said, wrinkling his beak and swishing around the contents in his mug, “That was actually lamer than I expected.”

“Yeah,” Leonardo laughed softly.

“Leo,” Donatello scolded and kicked Leonardo in the shin, “Tell someone next time, alright? This was like that stupid wasp all over again, somebody could have died.”

Leonardo flinched. He knew that all too well. He had seen that he was holding Michelangelo hostage, that he had tried to kill his family, but hadn’t been able to do anything to stop it. He was helpless, trapped in his own body and unable to fight back.

“Alright. Sorry, about all of this.”

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: 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: They Made Me Do It

Leonardo watched Michelangelo run round and round the table, getting chased by the wasp. He timed their passes and got ready to jump, just in case he needed to intervene.

"He's really turned running away screaming into an art form," Raphael quipped, and Leonardo couldn't hide a little amused smile.

"Well, at least he's good at something, right?" Donatello commented. Michelangelo, almost immediately after, tripped, and Donatello followed up with: "Good-ish."

The wasp came crashing down after the youngest, and the older three took that as their cue, hopping out of their hiding spot and towards the giant insect.

But, of course, Michelangelo just had to disobey orders, and struck out with his nunchucks, taking both the wasp, and the others, down in the process before getting dragged around in the wasps panic. Donatello and Raphael were thrown against the wall, leaving only Leonardo standing.

Well, per usual, it was up to Leonardo to do something about it. Pushing back his twinge of annoyance, he drew his katanas, ready to end that thing then and there.

The wasp went at him, much faster than he anticipated, and promptly jabbed its stinger into his arm. His vision went dark as pain erupted in his right arm. The next time he could see again, the wasp was dead on the floor and his brothers were discussing why it died.

"...The wasp died because it lost its stinger." Donatello concluded, giving the dead wasp an experimental poke.

Leonardo couldn't swallow his indignance and blurted out: "Yeah, in me! Thanks a lot, Mikey!" That wasn't like him. He didn't usually yell like that. He wasn't too snappy.

...Usually.

"Heh, sorry dude." Michelangelo laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Let me see that," Donatello said, grabbing the stinger and pulling it out harshly. Leonardo let out a short sound of pain and rubbed the swollen spot on his arm. Ow. "Are you okay?" The purple banded turtle asked.

"Pretty sure, but I think I'll think I'll be…" he trailed off with a twitch. Something was pulling him to the far corner of the room. Something was… He needed to find something. "...fine."

Donatello's eyes widened in astonishment as he looked the stinger over. "Mutations are generally anthropomorphic. I've never seen mutagen create giants like this before!"

"Yeah, real fascinating, Donnie." Raphael elbowed him, beak wrinkled and his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The pull intensified to the point it was almost painful, and Leonardo was compelled to follow it. He turned and wandered off to a seemingly inconspicuous pile of newspapers. Pulling them away revealed a large yellowish oval. An egg, he realized.

That egg was important.

He needed to protect that egg.

"Woah, look!" He said instead of keeping it to himself.

"It's some kind of... egg," Donatello said as he approached.

No duh, he snarked silently.

"Stand back. I'll handle this," Michelangelo said confidently, grabbing his nunchucks.

"I'm betting on the egg," Raphael huffed with a smirk.

A surge of protectiveness ran through Leonardo. It wasn't supposed to be there. The egg wasn't anything more than a danger. Still, he yelled, "Wait!" He didn't want to say the rest, he didn't want to say any of it, but it was like he was possessed. "We're not hurting it. We came here to find out what the Kraang are up to, and this egg is our only clue. We should take it back to the lab and let Donnie analyze it."

"Great idea!" Raphael snapped, "Let's take the mutant wasp egg into our home where we live! What's the worst that can happen?"

"It's not safe leaving us around. It'll be fine, I'll just keep an eye on it."

"I'll get it," Michelangelo interfered, reaching down.

No! He'll drop it! This will all be for naught. Well that voice was new.

"Hands off!" Leonardo shouted and pushed himself between the egg and Michelangelo, causing him to yelp and the rest to look over at him.

"Dude, are you alright?" Raphael asked, looking him over, "Because unmotivated bursts of anger are kind of my thing."

"It's just that the egg could be fragile," Leonardo reasoned as he picked up the egg, scrambling to not set off any alarms, "Mikey cannot be trusted with it. I'm carrying it myself."

"I'm beginning to think that he likes that egg more than me," Michelangelo whined, looking over at him longingly. As if he didn't spend as much time as he did with the youngest.

"Well, the egg talks less than you, so there's that," Raphael laughed.

Leonardo stared at the egg the whole way to the Shellraiser. What was going on? He didn't yell like that and he certainly didn't want this thing home. Why was he so protective over it?

%%%

Leonardo tapped his knee rapidly, shaking his head like it would fix something. He wanted to go somewhere else, do other things, get rid of this godforsaken egg, but something rooted him to the place. It hurt to move away, hurt to do anything other than watch over it.

It might be worth it, his mind supplied, This might prove fruitful.

His mind was probably right. Trusting his conscience usually worked out for him.

Find other hosts, it immediately tried to order, Others who will protect. Feed. Watch.

His head hurt, and he raised a hand to grab it, trying to alleviate the pain. The voice grew louder.

Attack, fight, protect! Protect spawn, next generation! Gather food, gather hosts!

No! No, he needed to stay right where he was. He wasn't going to fight when it wasn't necessary.

The egg needed protection.

It needed him.

It needed food.

Leonardo shook his head again. Maybe he would just… Sit for a bit. And try to get his thoughts together before he tore himself apart.

%%%

Michelangelo eventually came sauntering over, getting far too close for his liking. It set off multiple mental alarms, and Leonardo whirled to face him.

Get him away! Protect! PROTECT!

"Back away!" He screamed, and Michelangelo scrambled backwards. "Touch it and I'll kill you! Go!"

Leonardo froze. That wasn't him talking. He'd never say that to any of his family. What came over him? Why did he say that? He didn't mean it? Why couldn’t he move away?

Michelangelo ran.

%%%

Donatello came to him next.

"Leo?" He began, tentatively, as if he was afraid that Leonardo might lash out at him as well, "We're, um, we're worried about you-"

"Go. Now," Leonardo hissed at him.

Something was wrong. He needed to go before he hurt somebody or worse, killed them.

ATTACK! MORE HOSTS FOR THE SPAWN!

That dang voice again. It was still getting louder, sharpening the pain from his headache until it was like an ice pick stuck in his skull.

Donatello the hint and turned, speed walking back into his lab where Leonardo assumed they were all hiding out. Because he was scaring them.

The egg would not let him move away from it, however, that didn't mean he couldn't take it with him.

Leonardo wrapped his arms around the egg and stood, still careful with its fragile shell. He took it and ran far, far away.

He didn't really have a plan for where he was going, he was just running. Anywhere would work.

No! Whatever that voice was screamed, Go back! Turn them! Create food sources for the next generation!

Leonardo grit his teeth and stopped running. If he wanted to do anything, he needed to stop hearing that voice. Then, he would stop feeling that resistance on his limbs, and he could move a little more freely.

He slammed his head against the wall and screamed as loud as he could, drowning out the shouts about "hosts" and "spawn" and "food". He slammed his skull against the brick wall until blood trickled down his temple and slicked a part of the wall. At least the voice had quieted to something more manageable, even if his head hurt worse. If he could think for ten seconds, he could plan a way out of this mess he’d gotten himself into. All he needed was some kind of plan on how to get rid of the egg, then he’d be fine, right? The voice should go away, after all, it only started when he had the egg.

“LEO!”

Shoot, they were coming after him. Leonardo crumpled to the floor, curled up around the egg and leaned against the wall. If he left, it was only to protect them. Why would they go after him when he was dangerous?! As he silently cursed their names, he raised a hand to his head. The voice was back, louder than before now that his family was near.

TURN THEM! GATHER GUARDIANS FOR EGG!

Leonardo screamed again, this time out of the splitting agony in his head like it was getting cracked open.

Then, the pain was gone, and his body was moving without his command. Panic shot through him, followed by a surge of adrenaline. He wished it wouldn’t, but his body moved forward anyway, one sword drawn with intent to hurt or, god forbid it, kill.

He was sick to his stomach when the blood sprayed. Clawing at his own mind to try and free himself, Leonardo screamed silently as his body lunged forward and struck out at his brothers. Still, he could do nothing, and it drove him crazy.

Raphael got too close, and whatever was controlling him took a chance. Leonardo lunged forward and trapped the second oldest in combat by locking their weapons, just long enough to sink his teeth into his arm.

Yes! It has spread! More hosts for the next generation!

No! No, he had to- He had to keep trying to fight, or else he would hurt them badly.

Leonardo suddenly regained his control of his own body and scrambled backwards, dropping his katana. He needed to run before they went at him again, before they got hurt again.

So he did. He turned and ran as fast as he could. Only after he had achieved a distance that he thought was safe did he sit back down to try and gather his scrambled thoughts.

He bit Raphael.

He had spread that stupid voice to him as well.

Leonardo looked at the egg and set it down, then twisted to look at his remaining katana. Slowly, he drew the blade and shifted to sit on his knees.

He raised the sword high above his head, ready to bring it down upon that cursed egg. Just one strike, the membrane would split open, and the larva inside would die. Then he’d be free, and his family would be safe. It would only take one hit if he did it right.

No! Do not attack the spawn! It is almost time!

The katana fell to the floor with a loud clatter, and he went reeling backwards before curling up and whining. It hurt. It hurt to disobey. It hurt. Ithurtithurtithurtithurt-

The silence was shattered. The sound was quiet, near impossible to hear, but if he strained...

Click click click~

Leonardo glanced down at the sound, freezing when he saw an antenna dangerously close to the surface. They were already hatching? He thought he would have more time! It needed to die as soon as possible, but how?

An idea sparked in his mind. He knew what he had to do.

Grabbing the egg, he scrambled to his feet in search of a body of water deep enough to do what he needed to do.

A pool. He needed a pool. That would work perfectly for this. Against his plastron, the egg twitched and the larva inside pushed against the wall of the egg, yearning for freedom. He had to do it fast, because the offspring of the wasp would wait no longer.

He dropped to his knees and forced the egg under.

NO! THE OFFSPRING! PROTECT! PROTECT!!!

Leonardo screamed in agony, dropping far enough that his forehead almost touched the ground, his grip on the egg loosening just a bit.

A crack formed under his fingers, though, and he reset his hold on it as the offspring broke through. No, not one. There were two more behind it. It was only the first of three.

They, however, were not made for swimming, especially fresh out of their egg. Shortly after leaving their cocoon, the hatchlings drowned, sinking slowly in the water.

The screams in his head reached their peak before slowly fading after the wasp's children drowned. He scrambled backwards, reveling in the silence.

It was finally quiet. He was safe. His family was safe. The wasps were gone, (hopefully) to never be seen again.

Leonardo rested his face on his knees and let out a long breath.

He wanted a nap.

Whumptober: You Break It, You Buy It (2/3)

Leonardo could not stand it anymore.

Locked in a cage, muzzled, stuck in a room blacker than space where the only thing he could hear was the cries of other animals- No, not animals. Creatures, beasts. Artificially made and genetically improved until they were nigh indestructible. Beasts larger than most living things he had ever seen. For some, it was a wonder they were still breathing, with oddly placed nostrils on flattened faces. All desperately screaming until somebody came in, injected them with another chemical cocktail, and then left as they went silent.

The cage was too small, too cramped. He could barely stand up on two legs, let alone stretch out on four. Of course, though, he should have expected that. Playing the dumb animal card did that, he guessed.

Suddenly, the lights flicked on, blindingly bright, white light that overwhelmed his senses but god he could see again.

...Nevermind. He wanted the blindness back.

He thought the creatures he had to be around were bad enough just going off of sound. It was so much worse when he could actually see them.

Some were actually kind of cute, small and fluffy, but with jaws that parted into three and multiple rows of teeth. There were some that were shaped like bears, just make them bigger and set them aflame. Across from his cage was something long and spindly with boney, spider-like legs and six eyes that fixated on him.

Leonardo shifted uncomfortably under its gaze, making himself as small as he could as he took in the area. The gaps between cages were extremely wide, possibly to keep conflict to a minimum, and the cages themselves were of varying sizes, stacked carefully to avoid toppling. The roof, to house the bigger creatures, was extremely tall, high enough that Leonardo probably could have fit a house or two inside that one room.

Somebody drove a forklift into the room, moving in the gaps between the cages, and picked up one of them, moving it onto a conveyor belt. Slowly, the cages that were small enough to be moved were moved out, disappearing one by one, until it was just him in a mostly empty room with only a few of the larger creatures for company.

The forklift drove over to him at last, then stopped, the person who drove it hopping out and crouching down in front of him.

“You’re the prize piece of this show,” They drawled with a smirk, causing Leonardo’s heart to jump into his throat. “Everybody’s been waiting for you.”

%%%

The fact that Leonardo was probably dead did not stop them from searching.

Each of them had done their part. Raphael helped manage current crime while they planned, Donatello provided them with tech and medicine in case something went wrong, and Michelangelo scoped out the complex almost daily to make sure nothing had changed. When they were all together, they had tried to research what that place even was.

Key word: Tried.

Nothing came up about the building. Ever. Sometimes they would catch glimpses of "government owned" or "private property", but nothing more than that. It was like it never existed in the first place. They knew better, though.

"So here's the plan," Raphael said one day after gathering them together, "When we get there, what we're going to do is…"

%%%

The muzzle got torn off of Leonardo and the man reeled backwards before he could try to do anything. Then, he clambered back into the forklift and lifted him up, leaving Leonardo to scramble for a foothold as the cage tipped slightly. In the end, though, he fell in an ungraceful pile in a corner, pressed up against the bars and waiting for his situation to be a bit more stable.

Sure enough, he was placed on the conveyor belt and got moved along to… Wherever they decided they were going to take him. He slowly rose to his feet as the light in the corridor slowly grew and faded as he passed the yellow emergency lights. But finally, he came to a stop at a large metal door that slowly opened to allow him through. As its gaping maw opened, Leonardo froze.

About fifty-odd pairs of eyes, all locked on him while the conveyor belt kept moving him forward to the end of a stage. Was stage the right term? It sure felt like it.

His skin crawled and he felt like his scales were just going to raise up and fall off. Something squirmed in his chest, wet and disgusting like worms and slime and other insects crawling around, as warm as the sewers got in the summer when the heat was trapped underground and made everyone miserable. He spent his whole life learning to hide from humans, that the shadows were his friends and to ask for their aid as much as possible when risking getting seen. But now? Now, there were no shadows. There were only eyes and lights fixated on him and mumbles and whispers ran their course through the crowd.

His breathing hitched when an electric jolt came from the collar, a voice from a speaker in it followed up when: “Get moving, the people want to see something from you.”

Not wanting another jolt, although very bitter about it, Leonardo paced back and forth, keeping his gaze locked onto the crowd in case they tried anything. It wasn’t everyday he was placed in front of so many watching eyes like he was some attraction at a zoo.

“Here we have number 131. It doesn’t have a species name yet, nor an actual name, however, we can tell that it is most likely extremely intelligent, having about the same intelligence of an adult human,” Oh. They knew? Well that was alarming, at the very least. “The auction will start at $200,000.”

He was certainly flattered that they believed him to be worth that much, but there was still that flare of anger about being sold like an object. A few voices raised, the amount getting higher than the last with every new offer, until finally-

"Sold! To the man in white."

Shoot.

%%%

They had hovered on a rooftop for what felt like hours while watching vans of various sizes leave one by one, along with a handful of normal cars. Had they had some kind of event or something? From the outside, the people who ran the complex didn't seem to have a lot of connections, but who knew what they were capable of.

Raphael dug his fingers into the concrete of the roof and shifted from side to side anxiously, looking to the others occasionally to see if he was alone in his fidgeting.

Donatello watched the people below, leaned against the edge of the roof and looking almost thoughtful, but he was drumming his fingers against his thigh, seeming as nervous as Raphael.

Michelangelo was more obvious about his apprehension, shifting side to side, turning, and pacing. Occasionally, he'd pull out his Shell Phone, but never for long, going back to his previous cycle almost instantly.

Everybody had cleared out, Raphael realized. Once he gave the signal, they'd have to be on edge and constantly aware to avoid falling victim to the same fate as their oldest.

Raphael waved his hand anyway, well aware of the risks, and made the jump past the barbed wire.

The entrance was easy. They went in through the roof access like they had the first time and slowly worked their way down through the floors. The top floors seemed more like management than anything else, and definitely not what they were looking for. The further down they went, though, the more it looked like an actual workplace. Occasionally, they would pass empty rooms with large windows that looked as though they had once housed something living. Donatello said that maybe they had kept unusual animals, and Leonardo would definitely count as one.

As they moved further, the lights got dimmer and dimmer, until they were left in near darkness. It wasn’t like any of them minded, though. They were most comfortable in darkness with the way they lived their life. Eventually, they came across a large, brightly lit, open room with ceilings so high that they were almost surprised that this part of the building wasn’t taller than the rest.

In a few areas, creatures that looked like they were straight out of a horror movie stared at them and growled.

“Definitely keeping ‘unusual animals’,” Donatello breathed.

“This ain’t ‘unusual animals’, Don,” Raphael remarked, glaring back at something that held resemblance to a hydra, “This is full on mythical monsters an’ stuff. You think these are natural?”

Donatello went silent after that, and they continued to search, careful not to be seen by any humans or to set off an alarm.

There was nothing in the main building, and as they moved on to the others, they found less and less items of interest, and no Leonardo.

Raphael curled his hands into fists and let out a short breath. Nothing. They had failed. They had failed and he was probably dead or taken somewhere else and being experimented on or worse.

He wrinkled his beak in annoyance and shook his head. He needed to make sure that his younger brothers were safe for now, then he could worry about Leonardo later. Besides, the oldest was known to be notoriously hard to kill, and even harder to keep a grip on when taken. He would be fine, right?

Raising his hand in a signal he learned from many years of experience, Raphael led them outside.

%%%

Leonardo sighed and shifted in the hay again, as he had for the past seven minutes. He had thought that failing at that test in Chinatown was bad, but this? Getting sold to the highest bidder while acting like an animal? This was a new all time low for him.

Obviously he had fought back when they tried to move him, snapping at and hitting the handlers, but they only took that as a sign of stress and put a hood on him. As if not being able to see would calm him down. It only made him more nervous. He didn’t know where he was going, and while the van was much roomier than the cage, he still couldn’t get out or move far. There was a thin wall, he knew, towards his left (he crashed into it a while ago, not that he would tell anyone), and from the laughter that followed his bumping into it, he knew that there was somebody on the other side watching him. If it weren’t for them, he would have removed the hood long ago.

A couple more uneventful minutes passed where he only shifted around and tried to explore without prompting any more embarrassment than before. Then, he was spinning around and around with deafening crashes and some screams following. His adrenaline got going, and he was immediately on guard, ready to stand up and fight at any second. Leonardo was flipped onto his shell right before gunshots and yelling started up, but the gunshots stopped as suddenly as they had begun. He started wiggling onto his plastron, hands up to rip the hood off, but somebody kicked him, muttering something, then something hit his head, hard.

He writhed for a bit and let out a short cry of pain, before going still, completely unconscious.

Well, that struggle was a waste.

%%%

One of the next things he remembered was hearing somebody taking pictures of him. Oh, should he strike a pose? Maybe blink some sparkles at them if they really wanted-?

Right, not the time to make wry jokes.

The camera shutters stopped, replaced by low mutters about money and ransoms. How many people were going to try and use him for money and why?

Leonardo deadpanned and slowly shifted into standing, reaching out to try and test his surroundings, only to find out that he was in a cage that was smaller than before. He couldn’t even reach out without touching one of the bars, or turn in any direction. He was just supposed to stand or lay there. Fantastic. What a wonderful day he was having. In the background, he heard the phone ring a few times and people talking. He tried not to listen in, though, knowing full well what that conversation was about. Instead, he focused on how he planned to get out of this when he couldn’t even move.

Laying down, he caught the words “new toy” from the ransomer and the person who bought him, and just settled for pretending that he didn’t, especially when the dial tone came along.

“Well,” The ransomer hummed, and Leonardo stilled, “I guess we have a new subject, 131.”

Whumptober: One Down, Two To Go

Raphael hit the ground hard when Leonardo flipped him, but bounced back to his feet almost immediately, spinning his older brother around and trying to land a good hit.

The elder twisted out of his grasp, dancing around him with a wild grin. He hopped closer, grabbed Raphael and kneed him in the plastron, hard, right where the bony plates intersected. Raphael doubled over in pain with a gasp, leaving Leonardo to lunge forward, grab him by the shoulders, and shove him down.

He rolled him onto his plastron, pinned his arms behind his back, and waited. After a few seconds of waiting, Raphael sighed and went limp, but smiled nonetheless.

“I still can’t beat you? How many hours of training are you sneaking in?” he joked as Leonardo stood and helped him up.

“You’d be surprised,” Leonardo rumbled, stepping back. “Good to know you finally don’t beg for rematches.”

“I did not!”

“You did every time you lost, Raph.”

Raphael huffed, but smiled anyway, and started walking away. “Yeah yeah… I’m talking to the golden child here, what’d I expect?”

“Hey!”

Leonardo scoffed indignantly, still following him. The two flopped down on the couch with a sigh, and while Leonardo flipped on the TV, Raphael looked through a pile of comics that he hadn’t read in a while. Like, a really long while. Seriously, when was the last time that he had read these? He hummed softly as he flipped through smooth paper and softened edges, listening to some movie that his brother decided to put in. It took him a couple moments to realize that it was in Japanese and looked up to find that Leonardo was playing Spirited Away, an old favorite of the family. Well, that wasn’t too surprising.

His gaze trailed over to said brother, and fixated on the scars on his throat and plastron. Generally, they all agreed to avoid looking at or talking about them, but sometimes they slipped up, and once they did one of those things, they couldn’t stop thinking about what happened then.

None of them knew what happened really. Leonardo had a bad habit of brushing off trauma and downplaying injuries, both mental and physical, so he never answered them honestly about what happened, and they stopped asking.

The question burned in his mind and tasted bitter on his tongue. Raphael wanted so badly to know, to finally ask about what happened and strangle a straight answer out of his older brother. He had tried to hold it back, he really did, but in the end, it just popped out all on his own, as much as he tried to rein in his tongue.

“What actually happened, Leo?”

“What?” Leonardo looked to Raphael with a calm expression, seeming completely unbothered by this question.

“Those scars, when we had to run from the city?” Raphael pointed at the scars on his chest and throat, and Leonardo’s breathing hitched. “You still haven’t told us what happened.”

“Raph, that’s not something I’d like to talk about right now-”

“It’s been years of dodging that question!”

“It’s just a sensitive topic. I don’t push if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s a lie. We both know it is. Besides, don’t you think that we deserve to know? Y’know, after it put you in a coma?” Okay, maybe that was a low blow, bringing that up. But Leonardo was being ridiculous about this. He darted around that question like his life depended on it, always running from telling them the truth.

Leonardo kept his gaze for a long couple of seconds, face unreadable, before he sighed. “You really-?”

“Yes.” Raphael’s answer was without hesitation. He closed the comic he had, set it down, and leaned forward with his hands clasped together. “I want to know, Leonardo.”

“Oh wow,” The elder brother joked with a little smirk, “My full name, how frightening.” Then, he sighed and paused the movie, resting his chin in his hand. “Well, you see…”

Leonardo sliced through two more bots and squinted. This wave of enemies was down, but he could see another coming along. He’d have to move further, create some distance to get ready and keep them away from his family.

So he did. He turned and ran past the fences, through the open gaps he thought might lead somewhere. The bots caught up, though. They always did. It didn't matter how fast he ran, they were just faster.

To be fair, they weren't even alive. They were just robots, inexhaustible soldiers. Meanwhile, his strength was running out. As the battle dragged on longer, his exhaustion grew. When his initial energy ran out, he began to run on bursts of adrenaline, grabbing the ribbons of it like a lifeline.

If he fell or slowed down, he would die.

A chain wrapped around his wrist and pulled him back, slamming him against the wall and holding him there. A bot ran at him and his fear flared, right before he cut through them and pulled the person keeping him stationary right through the wooden fence.

Distantly, he was aware of the pain that flowered in his arm like a rose, static that engulfed his forearm, but that wasn't important. He needed to stay alive.

Snow fell leisurely as he moved along, and he shivered. At that rate, he was going to stop moving, and he needed to keep running, especially when-

20 arrows were pointed at them, and he let out a shaky breath. People behind him, hot on his trails, and archers aiming his way. Great, lovely, just wonderful.

Leonardo ducked and dodged around arrows, narrowly missing getting hit as he threw kunai at the heads of the archers. He whirled around for just a moment to bring his swords down in a deadly dance on the enemies behind him, then took out the last of the archers, breathing hard by the end of it.

They were done, right? He had finished with the bowmen and assassins? He could go home? God, he hoped so. He was so tired already, the snow and fighting were not a good combination for his energy levels.

A bot that he thought was dead, only held together by strings and wires, suddenly reached up and grabbed his ankle. They yanked it, hard, and he went tumbling, hitting multiple rocks and boulders before falling into icy water with a short gasp.

It pricked at his skin and he could already feel his limbs going numb as he sank. He couldn’t let go, yet. He had to just keep swimming up and up, and make sure that he finished what he had started. Leonardo kicked and struggled, swimming back to the dock and latching onto it as he broke the surface, gasping for air. The winter air was considerably warmer than the water that drained off him before he rolled onto the ground.

Maybe he could let himself have just a minute to breathe. Just one minute.

A minute of rest was not a privilege he got. Leonardo heaved himself back onto his feet when he felt eyes on him, hands already curled into fists and eyes narrowed.

Freaking Shredder was looking down at him, like he wasn't even worth a second of his time.

Leonardo swallowed back a snarl and raised his chin. "Face me, Shredder!"

Tigerclaw looked to Shredder for guidance, received a nod, and smirked. The three henchmen jumped down, and Leonardo was on the ground almost immediately. Pain shot through multiple places, made worse by the fact he was already sensitive from the cold.

A burn turned to a flaring inferno and he screamed, loud and wordless in anger. He lunged forward, throwing Razhaar into the water and slamming Fishface to the ground. Leonardo whirled to face Tigerclaw, landing a good hit on his torso and taking him down, then threw him after Fishface.

The adrenaline faded as he gasped. They were down, they were down, they were-

He froze, and stared at the shadow in the snow. Slowly turning, Leonardo came face to face with Shredder for an embarrassingly short period of time. Agony burst in his throat, and he realized he was falling for just a moment, before everything went dark.

Raphael’s beak scrunched with anger, his eyes ablaze, hands trembling with rage. “What?” he hissed, “Leo, that’s not even a fair fight!”

“Raph, don’t-”

“No, Leo, you don’t get it! Well, you probably do, but that’s just- That’s wrong in so many different ways!"

“So what? It happened a long time ago. Don't do anything you'll regret, it's not worth it." And there it was, that tone as he tried to calm Raphael down. It only furthered his wrath, that Leonardo was being so calm about all this. Why? How?

"...Fine." Raphael growled, trying to swallow his indignance. Like agreeing was going to stop him.

%%%

Raphael reached down to the facepaint, then smeared it around his eyes, a backup just in case the mask didn't do well enough. He closed the container back up, retreating to the dojo to gather his weapons.

Shredder had been cruel to his brother. Raphael thought it only fair to make him feel the same pain.

He closed the closet, backed away, and ran into the sewers. Shredder would feel pain, Raphael would make sure of that.

A thump came from behind him, before somebody ran beside Raphael and cut in front of him. Leonardo stood before him, arms crossed and staring right through him. Raphael's anger boiled up when his older brother spoke, and he forced himself to swallow it before he said something stupid. He did enough of that daily.

"I said not to do something you would regret."

"And? That was an unfair fight, something should be done!"

"It won't change anything."

"Leo! This is-!"

"Raph, speaking as the injured party; No."

"But-"

"Listen, this will only hurt you and the people around you. Don't. I'm still holding you to your word. Didn't you say just a couple hours ago that you wouldn't go after Shredder?"

Raphael deflated, shriveling back under Leonardo's icy gaze. "I just wanted…"

"Go home, Raph. Take a cold shower, drink something, and head to sleep. What do you think we'd do if you died?"

Raphael stilled. If he went against Shredder alone, he would die. He would leave them to grieve. "Oh," he breathed.

Leonardo reached forward and grabbed his arm. "You stink, Raph. Wash that stuff off you, we need to go home."

The hothead nodded, wordless. That time, he meant it.

Whumptober: Hide & Seek

Leonardo jumped another roof, grinning even as he heard Raphael curse his name. Behind him, his brothers struggled to keep up with him on their run, sometimes lagging far enough behind that he had to slow down to keep them close. God, it was good knowing he was still going on strong for somebody with a bad knee.

Still, he probably should give them a rest. He slowed to a stop and turned to them, grinning, while they crouched down, panting.

“Well,” he began, almost thoughtfully to tease them, “Now that we’ve had our warmup, I think it’s time for the actual training to begin.” When he paused, he got multiple yells between gasps, saying that the run was hard enough. He only smiled. What else was he supposed to do as a big brother? Nodding when they quieted down, Leonardo went on, “Thankfully for you, the training isn’t anything hard. Today, we’re playing a game.”

They cheered for just a second, right before Donatello caught on. “Wait a- What game are we playing?” He sounded suspicious, and Leonardo feigned being hurt by that.

“Hide and Go Seek, of course. I’ll be the seeker for this round. You all get a 1 minute head start, starting… Now!”

On his call, they all took off in separate directions, surprisingly running. He felt pride swell up that he couldn’t hear a single footstep from them while they ran away, then sat back and waited, counting the seconds as they ticked by. While waiting, he drew one of his katanas and worked on sharpening it. If he was going to give them a head start, he might as well do something useful in the meanwhile.

After his mental timer went off, Leonardo shot up and sheathed the blade, excited. They better have hid well, because he was on his way.

Leonardo took off after them, completely silent as well. He strained to listen for even the shortest breath or a faint heartbeat that might give them away. The hunt was still thrilling, even as he got older. It always was, he supposed. It was something that got your heart racing when somebody came too close to your hiding spot, as long as it was all in good fun.

To his left, he heard a sharp intake of air, and frowned slightly. Wouldn’t they have hid further away? Unless they were panicking, then he could totally-

It took him a second to realize that that was not one of his brothers. The breaths that whoever it was took were too deep and nasally with a low growl under them. Leonardo turned to the source of the sound, braced for an attack.

As he turned, the source of the sound pounced, claws digging into his arms and ripping up skin and muscle. He grunted and tore away, then glared at his attacker. Of course it was Razhaar. Nobody else had the audacity that he had, somehow. Really, it was a wonder that the dumb dog had survived as one of Shredder’s henchmen with an attitude like that.

Leonardo drew his blades and darted around Razhaar, slashing at his joints specifically to try and take him down as fast as he could. What? He wasn’t going to just leave a game that he had planned.

Razhaar reeled for just a moment before he lunged back at Leonardo and danced around him to avoid getting hit. The pair ended up circling each other, wondering who would be the first to try and attack again. When a long moment passed where neither of them engaged again, it was Razhaar who jumped back into action. Leonardo raised his blades, ready to block the hit and then dart away, but his enemy had faked the move, suddenly twisting to the side and digging sharp teeth into the blue banded turtle’s shoulder.

Leonardo bit back a yelp, instead cutting into Razhaar’s side and darting back. He was still part of a game, and not too far from the starting area. His family would find him soon if he didn’t lead the attacker away.

He wrinkled his beak in annoyance before he turned and ran in a random direction. It didn’t really matter where, as long as it was just away.

As he looked around for a hiding place to collect himself, he found a rooftop that, apparently, with the New York rent prices, had rich enough homeowners to have a large garden situated on top, complete with large, thick bushes and tall grass. That would work well enough.

Silently apologizing to whoever took care of the garden, Leonardo squirmed underneath one of the bushes and curled up as small as he could go, effectively hiding himself under the leaves and branches. It would probably be best if he called one of his brothers now, while he still had the chance, he realized. It was probably decent to let them know now that the game was over.

He reached for his phone and called Raphael, tapping the case while he waited. The first call was declined almost immediately. Which was fair, considering he had no clue what was going on, but it still created a twinge of annoyance in Leonardo.

So he called again, getting declined a second time, and continued to call until the red-clad brother finally picked up.

“Leo,” Raphael groaned, “This is really a new low for you. Are you giv-”

Somewhere above Leonardo, Razhaar jumped down, sniffing a couple times to try and find him.

“What’s-?”

“Shh!” Leonardo hissed, scooching further back and turning on mute. The last thing he needed was for Raphael to hear what was going on.

Razhaar came closer, laughing victoriously. “I smell blood. I know you’re close, freak,” he growled, and Leonardo could hear something shift as the dog mutant looked for him.

He was getting too close to where Leonardo had camped out. He needed to do something, and fast. Looking left and right for another hiding point, his gaze eventually drifted to the edge of the building, then down to the grappling hook on his belt.

He had a plan.

Leonardo started running when Razhaar tore through the bush’s branches with a snarl, fumbling for the tool as he rapidly approached the edge. As he came to it, he turned to give his enemy a two finger salute, then jumped, twisting midair and firing the grappling hook with a prayer that it would hit its mark.

The hook caught the building and sent Leonardo swinging over the road. He grinned, biting his tongue to keep from cheering when he almost ran up the side of a building and rolled into the shadows of a low built sign. Once hidden, he rummaged around in the little medical bag for a roll of gauze so that he would finally stop leaving a blood trail everywhere he went.

After a moment, he remembered that Raphael was still, in fact, on mute. Cheeks burning in shame, he pulled his phone out after finishing with his wounds.

“Hey, sorry about that, got held up.”

“‘Got held up’?” Raphael repeated indignantly, “’Got held up’? How ‘held up’ do you have to be to leave me for ten minutes?!”

“I’m sorry! I just-”

The oldest cut off, breathing hitching. Somebody was there with him. He was still being hunted.

“Come out, turtle,” A familiar voice growled, the sound of blade sliding smoothly out of its hidden sheath following shortly after, “Perhaps your death shall be swift.”

Leonardo took a shaky breath, then lowered his voice to a deathly whisper, right before hanging up. “I’ll call you back.”

Whumptober: It’s A Trap! (No Duh, Genius)

Raphael turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the shoji behind him. He needed out, out of the room, out of the lair, out of the sewers. It was too small and it suffocated him with his own wrath. The surface was open. There, he would be able to breathe freely, and then come back and apologize when he was ready.

No. He wasn't going to apologize. If anything, he deserved an apology. Leonardo couldn't stop breathing down his neck for two minutes, so really, Raphael had every right in the world to turn on his control freak older brother.

He'd come back when he was ready, and Leonardo would apologize eventually.

Ick, how in the world did they ignore the smell of the sewers? At the moment, it drove Raphael crazy, making him kick the ladder in front of him in frustration before he climbed up. Maybe he was just sensitive at the moment, since he could ignore it at any other time of the day. As he slid out of the sewers and closed the manhole behind him, he took a deep breath to try and soothe his nerves like he had seen the others do so many times before. No such luck, of course. He wasn't called "The Hothead" for nothing.

A familiar sound called to him, something that sounded painfully close to a Star Wars blaster. He knew that sound, knew it made trouble, and went to it with a grin. Mindless violence was good for calming down.

As Raphael approached the small building it was coming from, the sound stopped and magenta lights faded, which only fed his curiosity. Why had they stopped? Had one of the sides won already? He stepped in cautiously, and promptly nearly tripped over the corpse of a metal Kraang body. Looking around, he noted that it almost looked like a normal store you would find around that you had to already know about to find, if you ignored the hollow robot shells strewn across the floor and the gaping hole in the wall. The bodies earned a small frown from Raphael as he picked his way over to the hole. Dang, had he missed all the fun in the few seconds it took to get over here?

Shaking his head, he peered into the crater in the wall first, then noted the staircase and went down slowly. At first, it was dark, but it got brighter the further he went. When he hit the bottom, it actually looked more like something that the Kraang would have built, all chrome and bright purple lining the walls. For a brief moment, he wondered if they had any other designs to use for their bases before he realized that perhaps now wasn't the best time to wonder about that.

Man, this place was weird. No matter where he went, it was completely empty, but clearly built to house people while planning and experiments went on. Raphael, confused, continued to wander around the abandoned base until he stumbled upon more bodies.

Lots and lots of bodies.

Raphael shivered and shifted his weight from side to side. It was probably a good time to leave, since it didn't look like anyone was home, and it felt almost like the apocalypse had happened down there.

But, stronger than his fear was a deep want to find out what was going on. If they were all gone, they were gone for a reason and so help him, he was going to find it.

The fear grew as he kept going. Kraang equipment faded away, scorched and torn up, into an almost normal basement. Or at least, it looked normal, the lighting was extremely dim over there.

Maybe he should call the others, or just completely leave and never speak of it again. It would be nice to just back out while he still had the chance or have company to die with (if he was going to die at all), but something kept pulling him forward. Well, curiosity killed the cat, they always said.

Under one footstep, part of the floor slid down and clicked.

Nothing… Happened?

Well, that was-

Nevermind, wind rushed past Raphael's ears as the floor dropped out from underneath him, and he had to turn his shell to the floor at the last second as an attempt to protect himself.

Freaking ow.

He was certain that if he didn't have a shell, his spine would be dust at that point.

Raphael rolled to his feet with a groan and squinted into the darkness, trying to make out his situation. From the looks of it, he was stuck. The towering walls were smooth, too smooth to climb or get any kind of good grip on, and he hadn't been expecting a mission, so he didn't have any kind of equipment on him that might be helpful.

Dim lighting turned to pitch black darkness as the trap door closed above him, rendering him sightless. Great, could the situation get any worse?

...Apparently so.

There were a few rumbles around him, followed by a loud whoosh that seemed to go on into eternity and the sound of something splattering.

He hoped it wasn't blood, spinning around and focusing on using his tremorsense to find one of the sources. Taking hesitant steps forward, Raphael reached out to where he assumed the sound was coming from, and felt something cold and wet. Almost immediately, he ripped his hand away, startled by the feel of it on his hand. He paused, then raised his hand and gave it a sniff to find out what it was. He couldn't really smell anything and, although tempted to lick it to find out, wiped it off on his belt.

After a few minutes, though, it was pooling around his ankles and rising higher by the second. It was water, he realized. He was going to drown. Panic was the first thing that rose up, fighting to be first in his kaleidoscope of emotions, but he quickly shoved it back down with the thought that it would be alright. He was a turtle mutant, he could swim well and hold his breath for a long time, it would be alright.

...Right?

As the water rose higher, a heavy current took him off his feet. Raphael sank for a second, thrashing, then floated back to the top and found out very quickly that he already couldn’t touch the bottom. It was fine. Everything was fine. He just needed to figure something out real quick.

There was no time to think and plan. By the time he had half an idea together, his head was bumping the ceiling. Soon, he would be submerged.

Raphael saw no point in fighting it, lifting his head as high as he could and taking a deep breath right before he was submerged. Now, with no way to get back to air, he took the time to swim around and try to find an exit. He tried going through where the water was coming from, but the current was too strong, blasting him back and slamming him against the wall. There really was no way out of the trap he got himself into.

At that point, he couldn’t panic when his air finally started to run out and he started to fade. Instead, he welcomed it with open arms, because it was a heck of a lot better than trying to stay awake in a place he couldn’t even get out of.

Light came only after he closed his eyes and accepted the water.

%%%

Raphael frowned when he woke up to grey walls and an oxygen mask on his face. It wasn't that he wasn't relieved about being alive, it was more a nagging worry about how he got where he was. As he shifted around to get comfortable, he ended up realizing he was in a hospital bed. More importantly, somebody was holding his hand.

His gaze drifted to the right, where Leonardo- Gosh darn Leonardo- was sitting on a fold out chair. His hold on Raphael's hand was loose, as he was leaning forward and mostly asleep, but it was probably a death grip sometime before that.

The hothead swallowed down the bitterness that threatened to rear its ugly head, and greeted Leonardo softly, half hoping he wouldn't wake up, "Hey."

Of course, with their Turtle Luck, Leonardo's eyes snapped open as he shot up, blinking sleep out of blurry eyes before he looked at Raphael owlishly. "Oh, hey. How're you feeling?"

"Good," He was not good. His throat hurt and it felt like there was still water in his lungs. He was choking and suffocating and angry, but nothing else would come out of his mouth, the lie rolling off his tongue smoothly.

"I cannot believe," Leonardo mused, hopefully missing Raphael's discomfort, "that you woke up seconds after I wrestled Don to sleep."

As much as he wanted to stay upset, the younger's face relaxed as a short, rasping laugh escaped him, "It's just a habit of ours, I guess."

Leonardo smiled, but it soon faded, leaving him to toy with Raphael's hand as he spoke, words now very serious, "What happened out there? More accurately, what were you thinking?"

And there it was again. The whole reason he left in the first place. Raphael couldn't stop the new wave of anger that rushed in, but he could keep control of his big mouth for at least a minute, "I don't know. I just kept moving, I didn't want someone to die because of some hesitation."

"You could have called me!" Leonardo blurted out, then flinched, and Raphael couldn't help the satisfaction that followed, "Or Donnie, or even Mikey, or April or Casey or literally anyone for backup. You're so lucky that Donnie tracks us and that we found you when we did-"

"I'm sorry, backtrack just a second. He what?" Had he misheard his older brother? There was no way.

"Well," Leonardo began with a little smirk, "Neither of us are supposed to know, so don't say anything about it."

So he had heard the other right. "I- Okay?" He still had to agree, even if he didn't entirely know what he was agreeing to, nor what agreeing to it would start.

The oldest grinned for just a second before going serious again. That was a bad habit they would definitely need to break. "Okay but, seriously, if you find something like that, please call for a partner or backup, something in case anything like that happens again. If you had stayed under longer, you could've drowned."

Darn Leonardo and his magic ability to make anyone guilty, even without realizing it. Raphael sighed softly and resigned himself to his fate, "Sorry."

"It's fine, I'm just worrying," Leonardo quickly reassured.

The two settled into silence after that for a long moment, each doing their own thing, before Raphael spoke up, "So," he began with a mischievous grin, "About those trackers?"