Chapter Text
There’s blood on the picture, Leo notes subconsciously. Can feel it beneath his fingertips; it’s not even dry yet if the sticky texture is any indication.
He still has it grasped tightly in his hand, unwilling to let go of it, despite not needing the little comfort it gave him anymore. Not when he’s back home and he’s back with them, they’re hugging him and they’re real and not just the smiling faces of a photo and, by God, they are so warm.
(Not like that place. That place had been cold and desolate and more resembled a barren battlefield, a graveyard, than it did a prison.)
They’re tight, in their grasp; desperate, Leo corrects. Even though they all smile (and he can’t help but smile back too, even when it pulls at his swollen cheek and it stings) he can feel the tremors beneath it all. There’s a fragility to this, he realizes, and it’s not just because Leo’s been through the wringer and then some. It’s delicate in the fact that a gentle wind could shatter them all and scatter their little pieces like dust in a storm.
In all the years they’ve been saving this world, this is the closest any one of them has come to dying.
“I can’t believe it’s over,” Mikey says, the first one to always break the ice, not being able to stand the quietness for too long. “It is over, right?”
A reassuring squeeze from their strongest brother is the answer, followed by Raph’s, “Yes, Mikey, it’s over.”
And it is over now. The Krang are gone for good, locked away to never hurt his brothers again (which Leo still feels horrible for, knowing he’s the one responsible for their return in the first place, he wonders how many are dead now because of him), Raph has been rescued from being mind-controlled (the scar over his eye tells it all) and Leo was saved from his imminent death at the hands of that psycho (which, if Leo was to be completely honest, he has to wonder if it was a good thing at all, wonders if there’s an even better, more safe, future where Leo never returned to fuck up again and doom all of humanity, he has quite the track record so far).
This is the time he’d make a joke, something to lessen the tension, one of his only good redeeming features, but suddenly he’s far too tired and the world is starting to get just a bit fuzzy around the edges.
His brothers must notice his silence, the loudmouth that he is and all, and their concerned attention is all directed at him.
“Leo, hey, you doing okay, bud?”
Following the voice, which his brain infers from him is Raph, the warmth recedes from him viciously as his brothers pull back from their little dog pile. Leo weakly grabs onto the nearest body to him in a desperate attempt to feel the warmth again (god, he’s so cold, he can feel it all the way into the center of his boys, will this feeling ever truly go away?), which happens to be his oldest brother.
“Leo?” That’s Mikey. He sounds anxious, which is unfair, considering his brother should sound his typical happy self. They just saved the world afterall, and Mikey just did the coolest mystic act Leo has ever had the privilege of seeing, his little brother deserves to feel on top of it all. He can’t think of any other reason why he should still be sad.
Someone snaps their fingers in front of his face, and he has to open his eyes to know that it’s his older brother, whose arms he’s gratefully wrapped in.
“Wha?” Leo mumbles groggily. It’s like swimming through molasses. It shouldn’t be this hard to think straight, but his mind fails him.
“Dude, seriously, you’re startin’ to scare me here,” Raph continues on, his voice increasing slightly in pitch. And Leo would love to chime in here, trust him, but now that he’s thought about it he’s had a long day and it seems like a great time to cash in on some lost naptime.
“Donnie! Can you do a scan? I can’t tell what we’re dealing with under all this…” Raph stops. Leo doesn’t know what he’s referring to, but the crusty, sticky feeling covering his entire torso and face is a good indicator that whatever it is is definitely not a good sign. He can thank the Krang for that, too.
The silence is thick and heavy and it lasts a second too long as Donnie scans his body, and the news isn’t good when he verbally grimaces at the results.
“Concussion, broken ribs, severe bruising of the torso region, hairline fracture of the right cheekbone, a broken forearm, and minor blood loss,” Donnie looks up, pushing his goggles back onto his forehead. “We need to get him back to the lair. Now.”
Needing no more instruction, Raph raises Leo from the ground. The sudden change of movement and the pain that sharply sparks from his torso and arm sends shock waves throughout his skin. For a brief second he’s positive he passed out. In that time he could have even met God, who knows.
“Hang in there, Leo,” he can hear his big brother choke out, his chest rumbling where Leo has his face pressed against his plastron. “Just hang on a bit longer.”
Leo doesn’t remember getting in the Turtle Tank. Doesn’t even remember hearing the familiar engine pulling up or the reunion with April and Casey and Dad. Doesn’t remember how long he’s been out for, and who could even blame him. He’s surprised he’s even alive at this point, let alone that he’s back in the waking world.
The pain is unreal. All encompassing. Mind-numbing. Whatever other adjective he can imagine Donnie conjuring up. Leo never thought it possible to have breathing hurt, but it does. Some part of him, deep, deep down kinda wishes he hadn’t made it back at all, if just for the fact that he would be dead now and not having to withstand this torture. As horrible and cold as that other dimension had been, he’d been riding the adrenaline high the entire time. And he hadn’t been too worried what would have happened to him; his brothers were alive and well, that was what mattered. Dying seemed more bearable when you’ve come to terms with it. Living seems unbearable in comparison. He’d mention that to Donnie offhandedly much later, after his injuries were no longer considered severe or “life-stealing” as Mikey had put it, hoping his brother might appreciate the irony of it, but Donnie just got this horribly sad look on his face, like Leo broke one of his prized inventions, and he never brought it up again.
(A small part of him knows that that sounds selfish, wishing he could have slipped away while his family deals with the aftermath, of, well, everything, and he’d be right, it was selfish of him to think these things, but that tiny part of him, the same voice that tells him what a failure he’s become, has always been the loudest inside of Leo’s head.)
When he finds the strength to open his eyes, it’s to the ceiling of the Tank, the bright lights blurring in and out of focus. It makes his head hurt worse than it did already.
Now that he thinks more on it, his head is currently killing him right now. Shutting his eyes with a low groan, Leo can hear movement beside him.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Donnie says above Leo’s head. He squints to look at his brother, and he looks tired, the bags under his eyes are probably large enough to hold enough luggage for a trip to Tahiti. For the whole family. Draxum and his unnecessarily excessive packing included.
Which Leo says as such. Or tries to, at least. His mouth feels full with his swollen tongue that it’s any wonder his brother understood him. But Donnie rolls his eyes, so Leo knows his brother somewhat comprehended the gibberish that he spat out. However, his exasperated expression is soon replaced by a more somber one, his lips tightening into a grimace, as if he was trying to hold back the floodgates.
He never was a good one with hiding his feelings, despite his attempts at telling his family otherwise. And if Leo looked hard enough, he can see the residual streaks still left on Donnie’s face.
Imagining his brother crying over him brings an unwanted sense of guilt to Leo’s mind. But he doesn’t have time to awkwardly mumble a rushed apology to his brother before his train of thought is interrupted.
“I need you to stay awake, okay Leo? You took a nasty hit to your head,” Donnie stops for a brief moment, his eyes scanning the entirety of Leo’s body. “Well, to all of you to be more precise.”
Leo huffs, and in trying to lighten the mood, adds, “Don’t worry, Donnie. You act like I’m gonna die or something.”
Donnie immediately flinches, but tries to cover it up by bringing his wrist scanner to his face. Dammit, Leo thinks, why can I never say the right thing?
“We’ll be home in approximately 17 minutes. Can you stay awake until then?”
Leo gives a gentle nod, and it’s then he realizes his head is pillowed by something soft.
“No problemo, brother. I once stayed awake for 72 hours straight, 17 minutes is a walk to the park.”
“It’s a walk in the park, but I digress,” Donnie shifts his attention from Leo to someone located somewhere behind his head, his tone a shade darker than literally a second prior. “Keep him awake. It’s dangerous if he falls asleep again.”
“No worries, Purple. Your brother is in good hands!”
Ah. That would explain the soft pillow beneath his head.
“Heyya, pops,” Leo greets, leaning his head slightly back from where it’s resting on his dad’s thigh to where he can see him clearly.
A hand comes to rest on his head, and as if Leo was back to being just a small child again, Splinter scratches his head gently. It’s soothing, especially after everything, and Leo leans into his dad’s hand, letting himself finally feel safe for once since this whole situation started.
He can tell his dad needs this just as much as he does.
He almost nods off here or there, but Splinter is relentless in getting Leo to stay awake. Eventually, though, his pestering isn’t enough to keep his eyes open so he calls upon his youngest son to help keep Leo’s attention. He overheard a bit of conversation Splinter shared with Donnie (“Is there anything we can do for the pain? He’s becoming really out of it.” “Not until we get home, I give him anything now and he’ll just-”) while Mikey held his hand from his non-broken arm and instructed him to squeeze when told to.
It helps, though. And he appreciates the effort. Leo can tell Mikey’s hands are not exactly at one hundred percent, given the minor trembles he can feel between his fingers, but Mikey doesn’t seem to mind so Leo won’t bother mentioning anything until later, when he’s fully aware of his surroundings.
Suddenly, the Turtle Tank manages to hit a pothole in the road, jerking the vehicle just slightly, but it’s enough to jostle the worst of Leo’s injuries and send his vision to complete white-out. When the ringing in his ears dies down, and he has control of his breathing again, he can hear the alarmed voices from his brother and father, commanding him to “just breathe, like this.”
His breathing is under control now, not as erratic, but it seems harder to get any air into his lungs than it had before. He’d be worried about that if it weren’t for this splitting headache taking the forefront of all his problems.
He’s startled when he opens his eyes again to the anxious faces of Mikey and Splinter above him. In a moment of wanting those faces to vanish off his family, Leo shakily lifts his hand to rest his thumb on Mikey’s brow, thumbing a circle motion and weakly says through a gentle smile, “Come on, lil’ bro. You wouldn’t want a chasm like our brother dearest, now would you?”
It must have been the wrong thing to say, because Mikey’s face scrunches up and tears once again cascade down his sunshine brother’s face. Grabbing Leo’s hand from his brow, Mikey rests his cheek inside his palm as quiet sobs begin to rack his form. Like a yawn causes someone else to yawn, Leo can feel his own sobs begin to erupt in his chest, and even though he thought he had cried enough tears today to last him a lifetime, he can feel the dreaded tears beginning to soak through his mask.
“My foolish son,” Splinter suddenly starts, his very own waterworks budding from his eyes. The emotion in his voice is thick, and it sounds like a battle in itself to even get the words out from his tightened throat. “What on earth were you thinking?”
I was thinking I didn’t want any of you to die. I was thinking of existing in a world without any of you guys in it and I couldn’t handle that. The thought alone was enough to overwhelm me. I’m nothing without you guys, I need you, and I know none of you have ever needed me-I mean, just look at what I’ve done-but I can’t live in a world where you guys aren’t there.
But Leo doesn’t say any of that, can’t even form the words properly. The immense grief in his dad’s voice is enough to choke them both up, it seems. And Leo is the one who did that, who made his dad sound like he lost everything.
He just about did.
“I’m so sorry, Dad,” Leo, unable to look his own dad in the eyes no longer, turns his head away to avoid the mess that he’s made. “I’m…sorry for making you worry about me.”
Mikey doesn’t say anything, but he does continue to bury his sad face into Leo’s hand.
Leo instinctively feels his fingers tighten with unburdened emotion, and that’s when he realizes he still has that photo of them all in his broken arm’s hand.
It hurts to hold onto, but he’s not letting go of it.
“I’m just…so sorry.”
And he is, well and truly sorry. Leo knows there’s no way he can atone for what he’s done, for the mistakes he’s made, for the hurt he’s caused. But at the very least, he can give his family the peace they deserve; the peace they fought for.
He’d make a million apologies, just so long as he never has to see the broken faces and the wretched cries from those most precious to him. And if that would be the only reason for him to live, for the sake of others, he’ll take it.
Splinter must recognize something in his tone or see something on his face for he gently moves his son’s head back to where their eyes can meet.
“I will always worry about you, Leonardo,” Splinter says. And he looks down at Leo with such care and such pride that Leo doubts if they were ever reserved for him at all. “You have no reason to apologize. I am your father. That is my job. And mine to proudly carry.”
I have every reason to apologize, Dad.
Splinter bows his head so low it’s nearly touching Leo’s forehead.
“Just…maybe don’t ever do that again.”
Leo manages to stay awake until they arrive back to the lair, but just about barely if you can even call it awareness.
Splinter and Mikey try their best to distract him, but the pain is so overbearing that now Leo just feels so numb. While not at all a good sign, a sign Leo will relish in as his body begins to shut down entirely.
There’s frantic shouting above his head, and he’d be able to make out who was who if not for the fact that the garage had gone dark and if Donnie would just turn on the damn lights they’d all be able to see.
But, wait. That’s not right. He swore he noticed them arriving at the garage, and it wouldn’t make sense for Donnie to turn off the lights just as soon as they arrived.
Ah, right. He must have closed his eyes. He wasn’t allowed to do that, Donnie said so. Said it was dangerous. And he always listens to what Donnie has to say, even when he pretends he doesn’t. If Leo was to be completely honest, sometimes his brother completely astounds him with how incredibly smart he is, leaving him breathless with how effortlessly it comes to him. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous, because Leon's the leader now, and how are you supposed to lead a team when you never have any good ideas?
But he hadn’t listened to him when it had mattered most. Donnie had told him; explained it wasn’t safe to venture through a Krang-infested subway with no means of escape. And he nearly got both his little brothers squashed inside their own Turtle Tank because of it.
Leo! Come on, kiddo, you have to stay awake!
Raph. Where to even begin. Deep down, Leo knows all too well that if Raph had remained the leader, none of this would have happened.
Leo, please!
I promise to let you have first dibs on the Switch-!
I swear to God, ‘Nardo, if you die on us, I’m never gonna forgive you-!
Right. Eyes. He was supposed to keep those open. His brothers aren’t gonna be happy, but right now, he’s just too tired to care. They’re heavy; too heavy to even bother. And it’s just so easy to drift off with the way his body feels right now.
LEO-!
Weightlessness, as if gravity no longer tethered his being to the ground.
Like he’s floating, descending into darkness, with the picture cradled to his chest, tears running down his face, there’s no return, he’s gonna die here, and that’s terrifying, worse than any other feeling he’s ever had in his measly sixteen years of being alive, and isn’t that just screwed up and unfair that he’s gonna die alone in this dimension, with some psycho, murderer alien that’s going to beat him to death to where he can’t move, can’t think, can’t breathe-
The picture is still clenched in his hand when his mind fades away into oblivion.