Master Splinter always told me that, as leader, I had to be prepared for everything. My brother's lives depend on my ability to have a solution for every problem, a plan for every scenario. Before today, I thought he was talking about ambushes, traps – not being thrown into another dimension and separated. My playbook doesn't cover that.

After running into three other versions of myself, though, it became clear that I was the only one with this particular problem because, apart from myself, all turtles present had a firm grasp on the reality of interdimensional travel. From what I could tell, Leo and the other, smaller version of Leo, have met each other before. They were chatting amiably while Blue, frustrated by our lack of progress, let loose a string of low mutters as he paced in front of us. Every now and then, he'll throw a cautious glance my way, and though he's been nothing but respectful so far, I can tell that being separated from his team is weighing on him. He's tearing himself up with worry, restless and anxious like not knowing where his brothers are is a rare, borderline terrifying experience. And, well... it's not like I can't relate to that.

"We have to find them," he finally snaps after his twelfth round of pacing. "We can't just sit around here-"

Leo cuts him off with a sharp, frustrated exhale, placing a hand on the back of his head as he says, "Look, I get it. You're not used to having them out of your sight. We've all been there." And it's never a good sign. "But we can't go running off without a plan, right?"

And then there's fight flashing in Blue's eyes that overrides his self restraint, a familiar anger rising so close to the surface that I can't help but marvel at how young he seems when stomps over to the taller ninja and demands to know just when exactly they're going to start formulating a plan. Because simply waiting for them to show up isn't a plan.

Once his outburst is finished, Leo raises an eye ridge while the turtle at his side chuckles. Blue flushes, most likely feeling ashamed after losing his temper in front of two versions of himself who seem so much more mature than he is… and me. I get it, though. Even the rounder, soft-edged version of us gives off this Master-Splinter-meets-Zen vibe that's triggering Blue's desire to impress. Compared to those two, I feel clumsy, over-sized and unneeded.

But whether or not I contribute to this new team is up to me, it always has been, so I step closer, pretending not to notice the way Blue tenses, the way the other two calmly follow my movements. "My brothers aren't the type to come to those who wait, either. If they're in a group like us, then that's a lot of headstrong personalities to deal with. Knowing them, I'd say they picked a destination by unanimous decision… or they're standing in a circle still arguing about where to go."

"Actually," Leo says, "Don's pretty easygoing. I can't see him being stubborn about a destination." That's a good point. Donatello has a tendency to go in pretty much whatever direction I point… I knew he was my favorite brother for a reason. When the other two refrain from commenting, Leo and I cock our heads to the side, mildly bemused by their silence. "Your Donatello's probably even-tempered too, right?"

Blue and the smaller Leonardo with the surprisingly deep voice exchange an uneasy glance. "Actually, easygoing and even-tempered aren't words I'd generally use to describe him. Obsessive, neurotic, consistently sarcastic… that sounds about right."

The other Leonardo shrugs, joining the conversation with, "I guess I'll add aloof and introverted to that list. I'm not sure how happy Donatello will be if he finds out he's not the smartest guy in the room." It sounds like my brother has his work cut out for him. That doesn't mean I'm not glad I'm not him, though. It's the little things in life that make it worth living.

"Alright," I interrupt, talking directly to the kid, "so with the possible exclusion of Don, where do you think your brothers would most want to go?" Though Mike and Raph were more than willing to pick a fight with me any day of the week, I had a strong inkling that they wouldn't put up as much resistance with a baby ninja in their ranks.

Not that I'd ever tell Blue that. Those katana on his back aren't for show, after all. And, unlike a certain hot head I could mention, I have a healthy respect for people that carry sharp, pointy objects within arm's reach.

Blue thinks for a second, his eyes screwed up with focus and indecision before he decides to take a chance and tell me, "My brothers and I grew up underground, so I think, if they had a choice, they'd head for the ocean. Raph and Mikey tend to go nuts when they don't have enough room to move."

It's not much to go on, but it's a start, which is more than we had before. I nod to show my support, then the other two follow suit and Blue breathes a sigh of relief, the slightest of smiles taking up residence on his face when Leo says, "Then it's settled. We'll head towards the ocean." Throwing a distasteful glance at the boxes and crates stacked around them, he adds, "I was getting sick of all these obstacles, anyway. Too many blind spots."

And since it is absolutely forbidden by some law of the Universe that fate be tempted without consequence, a neon pink light flashes in the distance, followed by a cloud of smoke.

The other three go pale, leaving me with the distinct impression that I've missed something, but I know my brothers don't carry pink explosives, so something bad is going down and there's not a snowball's chance in hell that our brothers aren't involved, somehow.

From that point on, break time's over. We launch into motion, our weapons simultaneously drawn. In one stride, one breath, we've gone from relaxed to armed and dangerous.

Unsurprisingly, Blue outpaces us; panic fueling his burst of adrenaline, though Leo and the other Leonardo seem to traveling at a more sedate pace. While Blue doesn't react to this beyond the occasional backwards scowl, I'm curious. So far, there haven't been any wild differences in personality between us, so what's the reason for this sudden divide? I lag behind Blue, keeping sure to remain a few paces ahead of the others so I can catch what they're muttering amongst themselves. With that said, they caught on to me immediately, rolling their eyes slightly before the smaller Leonardo leans closer to Leo as he ran and says possibly for my benefit, "You don't believe they're actually in danger, do you?"

Leo shakes his head. "No way. It'll take more than pink smoke to get Raph, Leo, or Don to break a sweat. But it's kind of nostalgic how worked up he's getting. Reminds me of myself when Master Splinter first allowed my brothers and I to venture up to the surface."

A wry grin tugs at the sides of his companion's mouth when he replies, "You thinking of taking him on as an apprentice?"

In response, Leo stares at the small, tensed back ahead of us, something fond crinkling his blue eyes. It's not hard to see he already likes the kid. "Don't tempt me."

It sounds like they're kidding, though Leo probably wishes he wasn't. Having yourself as an apprentice would be a dream. After all, you'd already know your student's strengths and weaknesses, and all the best ways to help them learn. Well, that'd be the idea, but I'm beginning to wonder if we're really as similar as being each other's alternate counterparts would lead us to believe.

Blue stops short, relief spreading through his body like wildfire. It doesn't take long for us to spot the cause.

"No!" A mini-Raph yanks what I can only assume is Blue's Mikey away from my Mikey with a glower that screams 'don't touch.'

Blue barrels into them, laughing, and they wrap around each other, a perfect fit. At my sides, Leo and smaller Leonardo spot their own brothers, and their breathing evens out, their previous exertion forgotten in the face of the new energy flowing through their veins, the thrill of being reunited once more with their team.

Michelangelo waves cheerfully from where he's standing while Raphael crosses his arms. "When ya gonna stop grinning like a doofus and get over here, Leo?"

Huh. Am I? I didn't even realize.

…Guess we're pretty similar, after all.

I am plagued by the distinct feeling that my brothers are currently taking part in far less trying encounters than I am. "Using long words to sound intelligent doesn't actually make you intelligent. You know that, right?" This is what I have to put up with. Personally, I found the Shredder's company preferable.

Though the exact time and cause of our entrance to this limbo dimension is uncertain, I've arrived at a theory that our current predicament is the result of some criminal action I partook in in a past life. In short, I am being punished.

The Donatello from the late 1980's, judging by his distinct way of speaking and dated cultural references, catches my deep, heartfelt sigh and scowls, "I am doing my best to inform you that the best way to flaunt your intelligence is not with overly complicated words or obfuscation, what you need is in-depth knowledge of a variety of subjects. Genuine intellect beats superficial any day of the week." Every now and then, Don, a version of myself who seems to be rather accustomed to talking down aggravated turtles, attempts to convince him to engage in a more pertinent topic, but it would seem his extreme dislike for my existence is not easily forgotten.

Purple, on the whole, seems wholely amused by the exchange and not the least bit inclined to come to my aid. Out of all of us, his appearance most closely resembles the growth rate and form of a human adolescent, which would really be quite fascinating were I currently not otherwise engaged.

"My, what an extensive vocabulary you have," I mutter combatively when Donatello turns around, because he's had his say and now I'm ready for mine.

He whirls around, "What was that?"

"My apologies. Let me spell it out for you. Your point is that I am especially skilled at saying much while in actuality I am saying nothing of importance, but what exactly has your antiquated knowledge of the world contributed?"

An embarrassed cough came from my right. I turned to see Don looking sheepish on my behalf. "Actually, he made a dimensional portal out of a flashlight."

"What?!"

A flashlight? That's improbable – no – impossible… Wait…

Brow raised, I regarded the unbearably smug looking version of myself with this new information in mind, "You can make a dimensional portal out of a flashlight?"

Purple caught on before I had to spell it out, his voice shrill and scratchy as he shrieks, "Then what are we still doing here?!" Most of us carry flashlights in case of emergency. "Hurry up and make one!" After affecting a more demure demeaor, he scuffs his foot, ducks his head, and adds, "And then teach me how to do it, please."

Bristling under the sudden negative attention, Donatello responds, "Well, we can't just leave without the others, now can we?" It's an admirable defense, but it doesn't convince anyone. Because, obviously, he'd forgotten about this particular skill and, for the time being, no one is going to be criticizing my tendency for sesquipedalian loquaciousness. It's a good day.

By the time we reach the harbor, our brothers seem to be getting along just fine without us. Mike and his counterparts are taking part in a passionate discussion regarding the merits of each dimension's superheroes, with Orange reciting pages of dialogue from his comic books word for word, Raphael is sparring with two of his fiercer counterparts while one sits on the sidelines, providing invaluable snarky commentary until Raph throws something at him, and the Leo's are discussing their progression in their respective sword styles. It' a shame that we interrupted this little party with a way back home, but some of us would rather not spend the rest of their lives stranded in the middle of nowhere.

I'm not heartless, though. If my brothers want to stay and hang out a little longer, I'm won't argue. Not too much, anyway. Additionally, there's a high probability that this dimension exists out of time, so we can spend as much time as we want here without shirking our responsibilities or worrying our father.

Raphael laughs, a short, genuine burst, Michelangelo starts swinging his squealing counterparts around like he's a theme park ride, and Leonardo looks the most relaxed I've seen him in years as the conversation moves from sword techniques to favorite kata.

Don and Purple sidle up next to me, with Mr. Know-It-All trailing not far behind, and I decide I'm going to make the most of this, too. "You guys still think I'm a pretend genius or something?"

"I never said that," Don says immediately, and I shrug to inform him that there are no hard feelings between us.

"What do you say we compare notes, then? Find out just who the real geniuses are." And if they take it as a challenge, that's their prerogative. Knowing it's a challenge, a challenge I plan to employ every modicum of my not inconsiderable knowledge to win? That's mine.