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cinnonym · 2 months ago

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Felt inspired by this. Decided to write a mini fic. Fell into a rabbit hole and wrote a slightly longer piece that's also barely related to the inspiration anymore. Once again, whoops? Anyway, here goes:

"Miss Swan?"

Regina's voice cut through Emma's quiet misery like a single ray of sunlight through an overcast day. Warmly. Unexpectedly, therefore. Emma wasn't exactly on speaking terms with the mayor, not since the whole becoming-Sheriff-in-spite-of-her-meddling fiasco. She'd done her best to avoid Regina in the days (weeks) that followed, but apparently the winter solstice was more of a celebration-worthy event in the rural corners of Maine than one would think. Or maybe Storybrooke was again, as it was in so many ways, the exception.

"Madam Mayor," Emma said, reluctantly looking up from her glogg to squint at Regina. Leave it to the woman her own son called the "Evil Queen" to look sharp and professional even at a party where the alcohol was handed out with a ladle. In a dark green pantsuit and plainly hazardous golden heels, Regina looked like the kind of person who went to an office Christmas get-together just to sniff out who spoke badly about the company, then ratted them out to the boss. Except that she was the boss. Dangerous combination, that.

Emma surreptitiously slid her glogg mug into her jacket pocket. It was empty anyway. Again.

"Can I help you?" she asked smoothly, bracing herself for the accusation that was sure to come. It seemed all Regina did with Emma was accuse her of things. Stealing her son, first and foremost. Being an irresponsible asshat, who didn't know the first thing about being a mother, also. Among others. Some charges were wrong, some were right, but it didn't matter, because Regina launched all of them with the same vigour, the same glint in her eyes that made Emma's hair bristle and her stomach lurch with excitement at the same time. An exhilerating mix. Not that she enjoyed being the mayor's favourite punching bag. She just didn't not enjoy it either...

"Indeed I think you can," Regina said now, voice tipped low to avoid being overheard. Emma had picked a rather quiet spot of town hall to nurse her glogg in, but the room still contained too many bodies to allow even the illusion of privacy. Which could be the reason why Regina's next sentence was: "Walk with me."

"Uhm," Emma said, "I guess?"

Articulate as always, but at least this time she could blame the alcohol. Not that she'd had any real quantities, but then again, considering how sweet the glogg tasted, it sure packed a punch. And Emma had drunk enough that she wasn't ungrateful when Regina offered her an arm - how tipsy did that make her to even be able to stand being this close to Emma - to lead her across the room and towards the stairway up to the offices. The crowd parted around them, a couple dozen eyes following their ascent, and more than a few people gave Emma a sympathetic nod, but apart from that, most townspeople were too busy enjoying themselves to pay them much attention. Soon, the hum of the party faded, and the only sounds came from Regina's heels on the newly renovated stairs.

Emma cleared her throat. "So, what exactly do you need help with?"

"Upholding tradition," Regina replied, her tone still oddly warm, her hand still on Emma's arm, gripping it assertively but not forcefully. They had reached the mayor's office, and Regina unlocked it and pushed Emma inside without letting go of her once. In the neutral lighting of the room, Emma could see that her cheeks were flushed. It made her look absurdly pretty, somehow. Not that Emma was paying attention.

"It's tradition to abduct the sheriff from a mediocre Christmas party?"

"Winter solstice," Regina corrected, and not even then did her voice sharpen. The thought crossed Emma that she had to be a nice drunk, which was surprising considering she was so un-nice otherwise. Most people got ruder under the influence, but then, maybe Regina's default was already maximum rudeness, so the only way to go from there was up. Or maybe, Emma thought with something that felt alarmingly like fondness, maybe the mean exterior was all an act, and the alcohol made a truer, more caring core come to light.

Of course, it was utterly unproductive to wonder about the mayor like this. Besides, it wasn't like Regina would always be drunk from now on, so it wouldn't do for Emma to get used to this version of her. Better to keep her guard up. Better to stay -

Regina pushed Emma. Full on pushed, two hands to her shoulders, shoving her backwards, causing Emma to stumble against the desk, lose her footing and sit. Her torso, still carrying momentum, tilted backwards, she flailed, her gaze flew up and landed on a small green bundle of twigs, hung smack middle above the desk and thus Emma.

- safe.

"Mistletoe!" Emma exclaimed before she could help it, before she could even remember to curse at Regina for pushing her like this. "Quick, quick, we gotta - "

Only then did it register. The shove. The invitation into Regina's office. The fact that it had been locked, and yet someone had to have hung the mistletoe, someone had to have prepared the room -

Emma's eyes met Regina's. The mayor stood close to her now, practically towering over Emma in her heels and fuck-me outfit, and Emma half-expected to see a smirk on her face, a victorious smile at luring Emma into her trap. She half-dreaded that it had all been an act: the voice, holding her close, the glimpse at something softer underneath. She half-knew she was fucked, so fucked.

Instead, Regina's eyes were averted. Her gaze flitted to Emma only once, something almost like shame churning below a certain bashfulness. Her cheeks had reddened further. She all but chewed on her lip (but of course Regina would never).

Emma could scarcely believe it, but for once in her life, Regina looked uncertain.

It was enough to stop Emma in her tracks. She knew she wanted Regina to kiss her. And now she realised that Regina wanted to kiss her too. Wanted it, in fact, enough, to stage a whole show around it. Wanted it enough that it terrified her.

Slowly, with a distinct sense of unrealness, Emma reached out her hand. Her fingers hovered over Regina's cheek, not quite daring to touch, but offering to. An opening, that was all. Time lengthened.

Then Regina exhaled a small puff of air and leaned into Emma's hand. Her eyes fluttered closed but Emma couldn't stop watching: how the curve of Regina's face slotted into Emma's palm, how her chest rose with her next breath, how she stepped close and reached for Emma on instinct alone. Her hand found Emma's neck with unexpected gentleness, fingers slipping over the skin under Emma's ear and up into her hair, where they gripped tighter, drawing Emma close, into her. Their noses touched and still Emma watched, as Regina tilted her head, her hair tickling Emma's arm. As she brushed her lips against Emma's, carefully, questingly at first, then, when Emma didn't pull away, more firmly.

One of them, Emma couldn't tell who, sighed, and Emma's eyes finally closed. Regina's lips tasted of glogg and something harsher, spicier, that Emma couldn't place. She smelled like it too, sharp and soft at the same time, and the sensation washed over Emma as they kissed, and kissed. Her hand fell from Regina's cheek to the nape of her neck, while her other one came up to rest against Regina's hip, her fingers feeling out the shape of her bones through the cloth of her pants almost reverently.

They stood like this for who knows how long, swaying softly with the kiss, but barely moving apart from that. Then, somewhat abruptly, Regina took a step back. Their lips separated. They were both breathing heavily.

"Wow," Emma said, when Regina made no move to talk.

Regina nodded, her eyes dark and warm, like chocolate.

Another break ensued.

"So, that's the tradition?" Emma asked, somewhat awkward now that the kiss was over. "Canoodling with the sheriff at the solstice celebrations?"

Regina gave her a look, but it was a mitigated version of not even her worst glare.

"Actually, Graham and I would - "

"Thanks, but on second thought, no details for me," Emma interrupted quickly. She felt decidedly too good about what had just transpired to waste any time thinking about the nature of Regina and Graham's relationship. Way to make Emma feel less special. Though she had half a notion that Regina hadn't watched Graham like she was watching Emma now, a certain shine to her eyes like she couldn't quite believe what had happened. How good it had been.

Or maybe that was just Emma projecting.

"Well, anyway," she said, hopping down from the desk at last. "Now that I know where to find this - " she pointed at the mistletoe above her " - I wouldn't mind being called into your office a few more times before Christmas. Just putting that out there." She shrugged. She felt fucking fantastic and it seemed suddenly way more likely that she would enjoy the party downstairs. Leave it to Regina Mills to achieve what several glasses of glogg had not.

She turned one more time before leaving the office. Regina still stood in the same place, looking up at the twig above her with a poorly concealed smile. Maybe she was drunk. Maybe she wasn't. She'd let Emma in though. And that was a first.

#one more time im ill and home alone what else was i supposed to do #apparently being ill makes me horny??#nah this one is actually quite tame and soft in comparison #anyway wow this got away from me im supposed to be working on other fics lol #carpenter emma i swear i havent forgotten about you #this was just too good of an inspiration rush to pass up on #sq #sq fanfic #swanqueen #my writing

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themulitipurposechannel · 1 month ago

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Fic: This is victory (hollow and cold).

inspired by @goodlucktai and their incredible story “Raised on little light”

Part: Two

Tw: major character death, grief, suicide idealisation, disassociation, starvation, slight description of injuries and inaccurate medical advice

This is hope.

The air is much chillier today. Once upon a time, that would be the herald of their highly anticipated snow day. Emojis will flood the family groupchat, plans will be made, schedules will be cleared, homework conspicuously forgotten. But that was then. This is now.

Leo's memorial hangs above them like a haunting guillotine. It would be better if he actually was haunting this place. Anything is better than this.

"Hi" Mikey smiles weakly, trying to play off his squeak of suprise into faux causalness. "I saved you lunch."

Raph nods. "Thanks" he pokes at the reheated chicken curry and rice in silence. It's good. It always is. But it feels like ash most days.

"So how was patrol? You're not usually back this early." Mikey bless his soul. He's trying so hard.

It hurts as much as it warms the snapper's heart. His littlest brother, trying so hard to scrap together just a little more light for all of them, like he wasn’t crying himself to sleep every night, the ‘if I was just a little faster’ eating him up alive.

(Dead in the middle of the night, the snapping alligator turtle returns back from patrol and freezes just outside a colourful subway car. Soft shaking sobs, creep out from just beyond the unlit car.

Raph wants nothing more than to walk in, scoop his little brother into his arms and never let anything hurt him ever again. But the memory of pink tendrils and ‘if this is the end I want to let you know that I’m sorry’ hold him in place. Raph is not safe.

So shamefully, cowardly, like every night before this, the eldest brother turns and walks away.)

Michelangelo deserves better than this.

But Raphael is not safe.

"It was fine just... loud. You know how humans are" The snapper shrugs half-heartedly, sitting across the table from the box turtle. It was more than that. Cheerful music, parading crowd. Raph gets it, he does. By all accounts it's a good thing. A victory over the failed invasion. Humanity won, Yokai-kind won too. And knowing of it or not, the whole of earth won as well.

They have no idea what bled for them that day. What still bleeds for them to this day. Raph tries to stomach it till he couldn't no more. Grief festering in his chest till he punched a hole through an old construction site. That, was when he knew he had to head home to their dojo before he did something he regrets. Which actually... is something he should get back too. He still too angry.. he's not. Raph's not safe.

"Hah.. New York what a town right?" Mikey nudges him shyly, blind to the danger present. Raph flinches, jerking away. Raph's not safe.

"Mikey! Careful-!" The red snapper snaps immediately deflating in muted horror at the younger turtle’s grimace. What is he doing? He’s scaring him! “I-geez, sorry. sorry.” The floor is suddenly much more interesting to look at now. “Raph was just thinking of going to the dojo” The snapper sags.

"Oh okay.. I see” Mikey’s smile wobbles, at the corner of his eye, Raph can see it. “That’s.. that’s ok, big bro. have fun." His voice is pitched just a tiny bit too high. Raph doesn’t need to look at Mikey directly, years of growing up togather tell him the box turtle is barely choking back tears.

It's another stab at his already leaking heart, his baby brother always so loud with his emotions has no right being this subdued. You already leave him to cry alone. Mind Raph reminds him, firm but not cruel. Raph would really prefer it if he was. He wants you to stay. You can at least do this much.

"Actually, the dojo can wait. You got lots on your plate right?" Raph quickly pivots, motioning to the half filled sink."Raph will help you clean up" The older teen picks up his plate and starts towards the sink, still keeping a wide berth between them.

The result is instantaneous. The sun breaks through the stormy clouds. Mikey looks like he can damn near combust from how widely he is grinning, trying and failing to hide the not so subtle flutter of his hands in a happy stim.

It makes the snapper’s heart want to burst. Once, a long time ago this would be the time Raph would sweep his baby brother, sunshine personified, into a big crushing hug, a playful noogie included. But that was then. This is now.

Instead slowly, carefully, Raph reaches out and briefly pats Mikey’s head. Proud of himself for barely shaking this time. It’s such a small thing, it used to be so easy. Still Mikey gratefully drinks it all in, like a cactus to water in a desert.

“So you draw anything new?” Raph tries to ask. Immediately grimacing at the awkwardness of it all. Talking used to be so easy. What happened to them?

Luckily Mikey seems to take it in stride. Happy to talk and talk and talk about the new charcoal medium he was trying, the weird Lou jitsu memorabilia he found while cleaning (Since when did Mikey clean?? Willingly??) under the couch and the one or two grocery’s hauls done by April. No mention of Mikey begging April let him go topside with her. No mention of any junkyard trips with Donnie(not that Raph was surprised). No trips outside. No detours. Nothing.

Since when did that happen too? Distinctly Raph can remember many a time spent furiously wrangling a tiny little brother over the phone for him to come home. Because it’s getting late, the sun is coming up, Big man that alley isn’t going to run away, you can come back later please-

His little brother, for all his box turtle homing instincts, loved to explore, weather it be to discover small family shops in the hidden city or find a new spot for graffiti topside. Discovering new things was his thing, it’s what made Michelangelo, Michelangelo. Then again how much did the snapper really know of his brothers nowadays huh? He pushes that thought aside before he can dwell on it any further not wanting to sour this rare lightness.

“…And then I spent the rest of the day trying get rid of those annoying cobwebs!” Mikey shakes his head. “Dad was right we really need to clean our rafters more!” The box turtles huffs as he places a now clean plate into their cabinet.

But the last time Raph remembered dad complaining, or the tell-tale swoosh of a lab door being opened was 14 months ago.

Pizza supreme, Raph blinks, swaying a little. That was why the box turtle drank in any and all touch Raph gave. This poor kid, oh god his poor baby brother, one of their most sociable and people loving family members, technically with Leo gone Mikey was the only one now.

All alone for months on end with the only indication that he wasn’t the only living soul in the lair, was the occasional bags of food that appeared by the lair’s entrance and the empty plates by Donnie’s lab and Pop’s room. Mikey must be so, so touch starved. How long has the box turtle been doing this? How did they let this get so bad? How did they not notice? What happened to us? The eldest brother mourns. If nothing else, he resolves to at least try to give his poor, touch starved brother one head pat every other day. He’s already failed Leo and Donnie, he can’t fail Mikey too.

Unbidden, Raph can’t help but remember a time just last week, where he had punched their punching bag clean off its chain. Only to return an hour later with a new one already in its place. At that time he assumed it was Donnie (with all his all seeing cameras and regular but eerily silent maintenance to all their appliances. No more loudly complaining over who broke their toaster) who replaced it but now-

Tap.Tap.Tap.

“Raphie..? Raphala?” Mikey smiles sweetly but hesitantly. Thankfully, the box turtle seemed to learn his lesson earlier. Instead of touching the older turtle like before, Mikey taps the countertop to get Raph’s attention. “Is everything ok?”

“Oh yeh;Raph’s good.” Raph shakes his head. “Was just thinking”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Big doe eyes somehow get wider. Once upon a time that would have been enough to make Raph cave.

“Your uhm-hands are doing good.” Raph cringes, painfully adverting his gaze. Mikey scowls, with narrowed eyes that says ‘Boi you are not slick’. But the days of loud Dr Delicate touch, fearlessly climbing or latching on top of his brothers and pushing,and pushing, until they fess up are far behind them.

So instead, Mikey sighs and with a worn smile, he says. “You know you can always talk to me right Raph?”

“I.. I know.” Raph nods, beak quirking into crumpled facsimile of a smile, cuz gosh does he know. All those Dr feelings seminars. Raph shudders to himself. But this, something about their ‘this’ will always feel too much like a raw nerve or a live wire his other little brother was way too fond of playing with. Shit, he missed Donnie so much. How was it possible to miss someone who was still alive this much? Some days it really did feel like he lost two little brothers instead of one. One was already one too many.

With a shake of his head Raph forces himself back into his body. No need to space out twice now. He already promised himself he’ll try for Mikey. If Donnie, April and Dad weren’t going to be here. Raph would at least try, so that’s exactly what he was going to do.

“Same goes for you too, big man” The snapper gestures to the box turtle with his chin. And he means it he does.

Mikey hums, nodding. Resuming his task.

The sound dissolves into the quiet clinking of plates and sloshing water. Not quite uncomfortable but not quite comfortable either.

“Is your eye doing ok?” Mikey ask, trying to steer them to more comfortable waters.

“It’s fine.” Raph answers, happy to take the out. “More than fine. Doesn’t ache at all actually. Just numb and a little tingly.”

“Oh mi gosh! You too?”

Surprised, Raph snaps his head towards an equally wide eyed Mikey. It breaks his heart. His little brother used to be so much louder than this. Raph tries to smile encouragingly, prompting the orange turtle to continue.

“My hands still shake sometimes. But every time I think they’re going to start hurting they just don’t” The box turtle pouts . “Even Barry was surprised. He says it’s supposed to hurt. I just feel tingly and numb too”. His face scrunches briefly, disgruntled. “-makes it hard to know when I overdo it though.” To demonstrate, Mikey wiggles all 6 fingers in a loose jazz hands gesture. Smiling slightly.

A surprised laughs tears out from the older brothers beak; equal parts exasperated and fond. He doesn’t know what why, it wasn’t really that funny. But something about the silly gesture must have reached him somewhere. Because here he is, airy and softer but still,laughing.

Delighted, Mikey giggles back. Eyes wet. How long has it been since he last heard his brother laugh?

If only Leo was here.

If only this could last forever.

But Something suffocates the precious warmth instantly

Mikey's hold on the plate shatters. It drops to the ground breaking into a million pieces.

Speak of the ghosts and the ghosts will come.

(Deep Down, beneath them, inside of them, around them, where the space of RedPurpleOrangeGreenWhite swirl around each other so close yet so far. No longer able to bear the thought of intersection but unable bear the thought of tearing away from each other.

Nonono-

Something withers. something dies.

Like the chime of Blue saying ‘Hero moves are totally your style’

Before it winks out from existence, leaving a gaping hole behind. It doesn’t even bleed. It would have been better if it at least bled. Now its just empty-

No please we can’t go through this again-)

Frantically, head partially in his chest, the box turtle staggers, looking around fearfully, spots glowing orange in alarm.

"Where-?" Mikey starts.

For the first time in months, pure big brother instinct completely overrides his anxiety, Raph grabs for Mikey. Tucking him protectively under his shoulder protectively and races towards Donnie's lab. He'll be there. The softshell never left these days.

For the first time since they laid their Blue to rest. The sliding door to Pop's room bursts open.

"Boys! How-!?” Splinter yells rushing toward them.

"We're all fine! I don't know! " Mikey cries back, slightly giddy over the most physical contact he’s gotten in months, despite the current situation. Meanwhile Raph damn near breaks down the softshell’s door. His eye twitches. “Donnie! Donnie!! Open the door!”

For the first time in months, an achingly familiar voice answers back. “I’m okay! I know! I know! Sweet Galileo I’m trying to fix it!"

The door opens with a swoosh, releasing a gust stale air into their faces. A frazzled Donnie steps out. Eyebags galore and stench of old coffee stronger than Raph’s notorious fear stink. Raph bites down the urge to lecture the teen’s bed wrangled state.

The purple teen in question, is typing furiously on his computer wrist, while his phone is tucked between his shoulder and his face. April's voice can heard from its speaker. Yelling confusion.

(Wrong wrong wrong. The shared space of their already off kilter family mystic sways dangerously. It's quiet, too quiet. Large steady Red drapes over his remaining universe tightly, shielding orangepurplegreenwhite in a protective shield.

The colours mix. They reach for each other for the first time in months both inside and outside in shared confusion and terror.

Where?

What's going on?

We're all here.

So.. why?

But then just as quickly as it came. The ringing silence is gone. Their constellation is settles back into its uncertain balance, all is well.

Huh?

Wait. Resilient Green hushes them, listen. Tentatively, they reach out to where they hadn’t thought to do before.

Ba-dump Ba-dump Ba-dump

It's a heartbeat. One of them realises in dawning horror.

But who?

Who else can possibly be here with them that can throw them further off balance now?

An image of similarly decorated kneepads flashes in Orange's mind. He pushes that image to the rest.

Guys. Casey.

On que, the teal heartbeat flatlines.

Oh no.

Before it staggers to its feet. Irregular and slow.

Alien relief washes over them. It wrestles with well-worn distrust and bitterness.)

“We need to find future boy.” Pops states, voice raspy from a year of disuse and places a hand on Donnie’s arm. The sudden contact nearly startles the softshell into dropping his phone. Not that Raph can blame him. He can scarcely believe dad is here either. “He owes us some answers”

In the end, they decide to split up to cover more ground. Unsurprisingly, the future protoge found a way to disable Future Donnie’s comm line. Or at least found a way to undo whatever Donnie did to sync future boy’s comm to their comm system. So contacting him directly is not an option.

It takes two hours. One wild goose chase and trying so hard to listen a nigh invisible heartbeat. When April (what would they ever do without her) points out, “Hey didn’t future boy say they lived in caves?”

Before they focus their efforts solely to the underground. Mikey took the sewers, Raph in the underground maintainance tunnels and April and Splinter in the abandoned train stations while Donnie continued to search the city’s database for any more underground structures they could check.

It’s been 3 more hours since then and one more cliff-hanging flatline.

The snapper rubs at his unseeing eye, annoyed. If he knew it was going to start aching today he would have taken some pain meds.

A creaking noise grabs his attention.

Raph looks up, seeing a half loose ceiling panel swaying in the drafty tunnel. He can’t fit. Maybe April or Mikey can. But they’re halfway across the city’s underground sector. Do it scared, do it scared. It seems today was just full of pushing past his fear huh?

So standing on his tiptoes, Raph sticks his head up the hole, his breath hitches. The smell alone makes his eyes water.

There, nestled between the tunnel’s false ceiling and actual ceiling is his little brother's killer, the one locked the door on his Leo while there was a monster with his little brother on the other side, (nevermind the fact that Leo asked him too) surrounded by rotting rat carcasses and so much more impossibly thin and still, if it weren’t for the flagging teal he’d think the boy was already dead.

Raph doesn’t know if it’s because of the revelation of distant family or the boy’s pitiful state or because of his years spent as the eldest brother, the one who is the biggest, the one who takes care of them all. Oh he's too small, Raph can’t help but think.

This is their family Ninpo. It runs on love and trust: Even at the height of their ancestor's obession with martyrdom, there had been love and trust buried in there somewhere. The family mystic wouldn't have survived to their current generation otherwise.

But Casey’s is not buried in the ground. It is not the kind that martyrs their own at the first opportunity. Not even for good reason.

It wells a confused pity, soured by residual anger. future boy; all alone. Displaced in a timeline not his own and disowned by the only remnants of familiarity.

Gingerly, carefully and trying not to have a panic attack over the prospect of prolonged contact. Deep breaths. Just take deep breathes. You’re the only one who can do this. Breathe. You picked up Mikey, and he was fine. you can do it again. It’s just for a little while. Trembling down to a manageable level, Raph then lifts the unconscious human up and down through the rafter hole. The movement causes stained, loosely tied bandages to slip, and the stench goes from bad to downright horrendous.

The overpowering smell of sewer and pus nearly makes him drop the kid into dirty sewer water and gag. Which is saying something cuz Raph grew up in the sewers. The snapper is no medic, but pizza supreme, he knows humans aren’t supposed to be this warm nor is their flesh is supposed to leak yellow or swell such an angry red.

Holding the boy at arms length, Raph lifts his comms to his face. “I found future boy. Heading back to the lair now. He’s hurt bad.” If he sounds a little breathless no one points it out. He doesn’t stay long enough the rest of the group’s verbal assent. There are too many thoughts in his head. Raph doesn’t know what to feel as he walks back through the dark tunnels.

It’s 3am when the search finally concludes, too long since the mutant turtles and rat last ate lunch and too late for April to make the journey back to her apartment.

She stays overnight for the first time since that day. The group stand around the living room in silence. The rush of trying to stabilise the med-bay-bound time traveler is finally over and with it, their crushing spector returns with a vengeance.

“Well, I guess I’ll go get dinner started then!” Mikey smiles nervously, ducking out to escape to the kitchen. “I hope you guys don’t mind lasagna !” He calls.

Sharing one last glance, the rest disperse. No words need to be said, they all know their roles. Even months apart and drowning in unnatural silence, cannot wash away the years of laying this foundation.

April grabs the plates and utensils, Raph and Donnie start to round up the assortment of beanbags and chairs scattered across the lair and bring it to the table while Splinter hovers near the kitchen doorway, in case Mikey needed him. He was the only one, save April or occasionally Raph, who Mikey trusted in his kitchen. They were supposed to be banned together. Set of a pair.

“Ah” April chokes up, freezing mid-plate placement. Worried, Donnie walks over, leaving Raph to set the last beanbag. “April what’s wrong?”

In response, a strangled gasp (it sounds suspiciously like tears) escapes from his older sister, she shakes her head unable to continue. The soft shell frowns and begins counting the plates with his hand. One, Two, Three.. yes, there were six plates. Donnie doesn’t see the issue, six plates for six people-himself, April, Dad, Raph, Mikey, Le- Oh. His hand drops. Suddenly the cold tiles beneath him go from unnoticeable to digging pins and needles into his heels. Hurts, hurts everything hurts.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry” April shakes, She’s crying, Donnie is frozen. His heart beats a rabbit quick. Donnie doesn’t know what to do. He can’t do. His other half is gone, His big sister rarely ever cries, the faint sounds from the kitchen are too much.I can’t do this. It’s all too much.

The softshell doesn’t realise he’s hyperventilating till a solid warmth rests on his shoulders.

“Donnie? Dee..? Hey. It’s ok. Copy me and Mikey ok? Deep breath in, deep breath out”

A deep rumbling churr and a raspingly familiar lullaby, one that he hasn’t heard since he was a tot, joins them in the undertone.

He forces his breaths to slow. Safe. You are safe.

Squeezing the tears from his eyes. His vision clears, and somehow the softshell finds himself sitting on the ground with a weighted blanket draped on him. April is kneeled in front to him, Mikey and Splinter beside her. While Mikey and her exaggerate their breaths for him to follow. His father’s lullaby draws to a close. Come back

Behind him, his big brother shivers, still churring, a comforting presence no blanket can ever achieve.

Confused, Donnie arches a brow at his younger brother and father. Weren’t they supposed to be in the kitchen?

Familiar with his nonverbal gestures, Mikey speaks softy, for the softshell’s comfort. “You know how dad is. Pointy ears and all. He heard you hyperventilating, I saw him try to leave.. well you know.” The box turtle shrugs. “Dinner’s already in the oven, it’ll be fine.”

It’s truly a testament to how off-kilter everyone is, when Dad refrains from using his tail to smack the youngest for the ears comment.

Donnie nods stiffly, still not quite able to push past the weight holding his tongue.

He feels naked, exposed. Yet…somehow his body feels more relaxed and unwound than it has ever been in months, as if finally awoken from a long dream. For the first time, Donnie turns and lets his eyes wander around their lair, truly look at it. Not shamble through its halls during the witching hours half dead and with a single minded focus on: coffee, fix the occasional appliance, and returning to his lab.

The cobwebs by the rafters are gone. The playstation controllers are neatly stacked, the floor. The floor. A chill creeps back up his feet and into his hands. Gone is the stubborn layer of dust, dirt and crumbs that somehow always managed to coat the floor. It’s clean. It not supposed to be clean. Not even with three teenage boys.

I have become a ghost in my own home. The softshell blinks, dazed. How much has he missed? The genius wonders with no small amount of dread.

Mikey cocks his head to the side, cautiously curious. “Do you want to talk about it? Signing works too.”

The softshell’s feels his shoulders rise, ice all over. gone.gone. Gone. Six plates. A broken set. How he could be possibly explain this? How could he possibly articulate that kind of agony.

Sensing the return of the younger boy’s spiral, April shoulder checks him, disrupting the thought train. “It’s my fault. I was setting the table but then I realised-” Her voice wavers, but no new tears spill out. “- I realised I grabbed six plates”

Grieving understanding darkens everyone else’s face.

“Yeah.” April laughs sardonically. “I’m being a terrible big sister right now aren’t I?”

Donnie frowns, vermantly. As does everyone else in protest.

“April no..”

“That’s not true-”

“Green..”

“Guys stop.” She holds her hands up , Let me finish. She adds unspoken. They let her. Because when April O’Neil wanted to say something you listened.

“You guys don’t have to make me feel better ok? I know.” She whispers, wrapping her arms around herself in some modicum of comfort. “You’re my family.” The 19 year old cries heartbroken, bowing her head in shame. “You’re my family, you guys needed me and I avoided this place like the plague. Because it hurt too much to be here.” Unspoken their eyes drift to Leo’s memorial before returning back to each other.

“You were hurting…” Raph offers up, no longer churring.

“We’re all hurting! That doesn’t make it an excuse!” April hisses, snapping up to meet the second eldest’s gaze. Her eyes fierce even with a fresh set of tears. The snapper shrinks.

The human crumbles too, instant regret colours her face. “Oh, big guy I’m so sorry.” Gently, slowly she reaches out a tentative hand to the largest turtle. He leans into it, only to draw back at the very last second.

She presses lips into a thin line to keep herself from crying harder. April nods, eyes flashing in pained understanding. She sighs, steeling herself and then continues.

“When that void hit our Ninpo.. again” they all grimace in mutual disgust . “Fuck.. I was terrified. it was like being stuck on the ground again where we had to watch Leo, except worse.” She cups her hands to her face. “Because this time, I stayed away on purpose.”

“What if it wasn’t Casey? But one of you ?” She looks off into the distance, haunted. “What if the last memory you all had of me was off the worst day of our lives, instead of me telling you guys how much I love you. Because I do.” She says, wrecked with grief. But also love Always love. “Splints you’re my weird uncle, and you boys are my little brothers. I can’t lose you guys.”

Unable to contain himself anymore, Mikey loops his arms around her waist and burrows into her side. She reciprocates eagerly, wrapping an arm around her youngest brother and pulling him closer. “You’re not the only one who was pulling away.” The box turtle says sadly.

To the side, the former actor turned father and current Hamato patriarch says nothing, he watches his beloved sons and niece(?)semi-ward(?), (bah, doesn’t matter she’s family) silently. Deep in thought.

“Michel’s right.” Donnie chimes in, finally able to get his tongue working. They all look to him with varying degrees of suprise. Which is fair, he’s not exactly the picture of emotional vulnerability or mental health. None of them are. Donnie swallows down a lump. He does not want to do this. Newton’s beard does he not want to do this.

But his home is being warped around him. There is sterility where there should be chaos. Mikey is withdrawn, Raph is touch adverse, April is crying and Papa has not once complained bout missing any off his TV shows. We’re breaking. Donnie realises with hysterical dread. They’re barreling to the point of no return, and if something doesn’t give soon, they might be too far gone from themselves and each other, to ever fit back together.

He’s already bleeding out from the space where his twin used to be. Losing them like this, in any form will truly be the final gun shot to his brain. And they definitely won’t survive losing his genius either.

“I don’t.. I don’t think I know what to do with myself without Leo around.” He shifts uneasily, adverting his eyes from his family. “But I don’t want to leave you guys alone.” He grimaces, picking at his nails in nervous tick. “And I know.. leaving per se, isn’t what Leo would want. So as I’m sure as some of you know..” Donnie casts what he hopes is an apologetic look to Raph and Mikey. The ones he was sure felt his absence most keenly, like it or not, his father and him had very similar coping mechanisms, ie: drowning themselves in whatever be it TV shows or inventing to distract themselves from reality. “..I try to keep myself busy.” The softshell finishes.

Raph pales at the implication. “Donnie..” he says pained, but doesn’t make a move to hold the soft shell. Instead his hands brush against the younger teen’s shoulders tense and longing. Donnie tries not to take it personally.

He feels his dad’s tail wraps around his waist and squeeze. “I am so sorry, my son.”

Tearing up, Mikey slowly unwinds himself from April and holds out his arms in invitation. Donnie leans forward and the box turtle pulls Donnie into a hug, squeezing him with all the fierce, warm love only the sun like him can give. “Thank you for telling us. And thank you for staying.” His little brother says fiercely.

“I can never leave you all without my genius” He hugs Mikey back. Because it is true. Leo is his other half. But his whole world has always been made up of RaphLeoMikeyAprilPapa and the numerous tiny planets that made up his love for science and mechanical engineering.

It’s funny really. The genius locked himself in his lab, threw himself into home security, and chipped away at the backlogs of blueprints that had accumulated over the years, all in an effort to slow the bleeding. There could be no space for grief and the ‘just a little left and you can join him’ if he worked himself to exhaustion.

It kept him from thinking. It kept him in stasis. It kept him and his katana-sharp grief from spilling out and poisoning his beloved family. But he already did, didn’t he? For all his genius he failed to account how his absence was a poison too.

Yet this small pocket of family comforting him, helping him through his recent meltdown has done more to warm the chill and bandage the wrongness of gone gone gone-Something intrinsic to Hamato Donatello is gone- than any machine or programme he worked himself to death making.

Truthfully, Donnie doesn’t know if he can ever truly live with being half of a whole or a piece of his world gone, but for his remaining world, he’s willing to try. Besides, wasn’t Excascale computing becoming global soon? He definitely wants to try and stick around for that.

April rests her head on his shoulder, “Oh Dee.. we are so going to find you a therapist.”

“Preferably one with at least 4 doctorates.” He quips back, half joking-half serious.

Her eyes blaze determinedly with all the fire she was so famous for. “Consider it done.” Big sister of the whole wide world.

“Raph can look in the hidden city too.” Raph volunteers. “I’ll help too.” Donnie feels Mikey nod enthusiastically.

Despite everything, Donnie feels a small twitch upwards at his beak the first touch of a smile since that day. This.. this was still good.

“Actually..” after a brief pause, Mikey pipes up, nervously. “Since we’re all sharing something today, is it ok if I say something too?”

“Go for it.”

“Of course.”

“Always”

“Ok..ok I’m gonna do it.”Nervous, the youngest drums his fingers along Donnie’s battleshell. The softshell tsks, extending two metal claws from his shell to grab the younger’s hands. “Sorry.” Mikey shrinks.

“It’s fine. Just grip the claws instead.” The purple branded teen instructs, not breaking the hug. Mikey nods, and then proceeds to white knuckle the offered claws so tightly, the metal begins to creak. It makes the older brother want to shove the younger away and scream my baby! But it’s been a literal year since he has last seen his little brother (jeezus how did he let it get this bad) so Donnie resists; just this once.

“So..” Mikey takes a deep shuddering breath, “I don’t want you guys to take this the wrong way. I love you guys. I love to cook for you guys, I promise.” He looks to April,Splinter,Raph pleadingly.

“And I know you’re all hurting so I don’t mind handling the chores myself either.” He smiles wobbly. Shock briefly paints Donnie and Splinter’s face. Raph hunches inward and April’s looks away, ashamed. So that was who deep cleaned their floor and cleared out the webs. The mutant rat concludes heartbroken. He gently cups his son’s face. Mikey leans into it.

The floor alone would have taken days. How lonely must his son have been? Splinter mourns.

“B-but it gets really hard sometimes and I’m sorry.” Mikey hiccups, big fat tears rolling down his face. Forming a damp patch on the softshell’s shoulder that he bravely tolerates. “A-and I know I shouldn’t be complaining. It’s my fault Leo-”

Oh no. Oh hell no. Not their youngest.

The explosion of protests is violent.

“Baby, no.” April gasps horrified.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare.” Donnie hisses, wrenching Mikey away by his shoulders and shaking him.

“But if I was just a little faster-” The box turtle shakes.

“Orange, you did everything you could”

“But you guys-” Mikey whimpers.

“No.” Raph growls, clenching his fists. “ just because we’re hurting doesn’t mean anything. We are relying a bit too much on you. You cook for all of us. You’re the only one who keeps our home clean,” Raph places a light hand atop his little brother head. He has to say this, he has to. For Mikey. And.. for himself. “And Leo..” They all flinch. “Leo made his own choices.” Raph sags. “So please, don’t hurt my baby brother by blaming him for things out of his control.”

“But.. what about you?” Mikey wobbles

“Huh?” Raph tilts his head to the side.

“Do you blame yourself?” Point blank when he wants to me.

There is silence. The snapper recoils back stung. Raph for as big as he is, feels smaller than ever. “It’s not the same. You were trying to help. But I..”he hands his head low. “I hurt you guys.”

A chorus of protest break out again.

“It wasn’t you!”

“Literally impossible. You? The guy who feeds stray cats?”

“It was the Krang!”

“I know that!” Raph snaps. “It’s so stupid I know. The krang did it, not me.” The snapper grips his head. “But I’m the strongest and the biggest. And everything I close my eyes I see..” the red turtle shakes,staring down at his hands. “I don’t need mind control to hurt ya guys. If I mess up..” He squeezes his eyes shut, tears falling. “ I.. I’m supposed to take care of you bozos.”

“Oh big guy.. We’re supposed to take care of each other.” This time not to be deterred. April wraps her arms around his large arm. It burns, but he can’t bear to shake her off, not after so long. “if nothing else, you and I promised remember? We would share.” Her eyes glimmer again with new tears.

(A lifetime ago, tucked away in a little corner away from where little brothers are sleeping.

A 11 year old and 10 year old lie nestled against each other. “Thanks for helping to get my brothers to sleep. Raph’s really sorry for this. They always get so fussy when they’re sick.” He grumbles, tucking his head between his knees.

The girl giggles. “Psh~ I already said it’s fine. You don’t have to do it all by yourself.”

“But I’m the oldest.” The boy protests.

“Uhh no. I’m the oldest. Im 11.” She rolls her eyes. Beaming “I’m always happy to help if you want?”

“Really?” He gasps, eyes sparkling.

“Well duh,” The girl grins, not yet realising just how far she will go or the magnitude she will carry for her soon-to-be family. But her mum always said she could do anything. So she will endure, gladly for them. “What are friends for?” )

Seeing the lack of protest this time, Mikey and Donnie take that opportunity to pull away form each other and encircle their big brother on either side.

“We’re with you always raphie.” Mikey hugs.

“Yeah. Yeah What he said.” Donnie, opting to rest his hand against his older brother.

“You guys..” Raph sniffs, bending down to be closer to his siblings.

“My sons, my family..” Splinter stands and joining the rest of his family at last. They all turn to face him. “This past year has been hard on us all. With our blue..” The elderly man stutters, chest hurting. “-it will likely always be hard on us. Which is why more than ever we have to press in. I know I have not been the best father, but as the head of the household and the adult, I should have known better than to leave you all to your hurts.” Splinter kneels, dogeza style. “I am truly and deeply sorry. Please I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me. No matter what happens, from now on I promise, I will do my very best to be here now.”

“Dad..”

“Pops..”

“Oh Splints.”

“I don’t normally feel things but that one got through.”

“Donnie really?” April chuckles weakly, rolling her eyes. The softshell doesn’t quite feel up to smiling yet, so he shrugs instead. Leo wasn’t here anymore. Someone has to do it.

“Cmon guys, Pop’s is right.” Raph huffs affectionately, he still doesn’t feel quite so comfortable to hug them all back. But he’s not pulling away and that means everything. “No more. We have to stick together.”

“Anatawa Hitorijanai” Mikey beams, wiping away the tears.

“Anatawa Hitorijanai” the rest of them echo back. Pressing closer to each other again.

“Wait.” Donnie stiffens, pulling away. “Angelo how long has your lasagna been in the oven?”

“My lasagna!” With a shriek and a jump, Mikey tears himself away from the group and races towards the kitchen.

He doesn’t get far, stoping just shy of the doorway when the Smoke detector goes off with vengeance. Followed by a BOOM! And the tell-tale glow of yellow-orange flames lick at the doorway.

“Orange! What did you put in that lasagna!”

“I don’t know! It’s never done this before!”

“The fire exstinghisher! Someone get the fire exstinguisher!”

“FIRREEEFIIGGHTTTIINGG LIKE A BOSSSS!”

“Wait! No no no! Raph! That’s the turbo mo-”

Peals of laughter break through the halls amidst the smouldering fire and smoke and clouds of demineralised water particles.

For the first in a long, long time the lair feels less a living tomb and more a home.

They think Leo might be proud.

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