Shards is, hands-down, my favourite RP-thread. I love this one so much it hurts. And I made myself cry at the end, which almost never happens when I'm writing. As before, SAINW!Michelangelo is futureorangeturtle, and Leo is me.

Shards

The Lair was quiet, the lights dimmed to a low, soothing glow. Down in the Pit, two figures were slumped together on one of the couches, fast asleep. The older, time-worn Michelangelo was resting against the Leonardo from the rift, his bandaged head resting on the other's shoulder and his hand still clasped firmly. It was a peaceful little scene - but all was not as serene as it looked.

Michelangelo suddenly twitched, the only outward sign of what was going on in his mind. Nightmares were nothing new for him, and normally he could wake himself up from them with little effort, though it always left him twitchy and grumpy. But the events of the day had left him completely exhausted - his body refused to wake, leaving his mind trapped in nightmare.

It was a city of shadows and flames, stalked by creatures of formless, insubstantial smoke and burning eyes that hunted in packs and struck from the darkness. Buildings outlined by rising sparks grew and towered, only to collapse in a flurry of flying embers and choking smoke that twisted and writhed like dying vines.

Standing in the middle of it all was Michelangelo - and he was completely alone.

"—and then, I drew this, and then Raph got all yelly, but then—"

Leo laughed, holding his youngest brother off with a hand on his head. "Slow down, Mikey, okay? Your drawings are awesome, but I can't appreciate them if you keep throwing them at me this fast."

Mikey grinned at him. "Sorry, Leo, I just miss you. When are you coming home?"

Leo's smile faltered. "Miss me? What— Mikey, I'm right—"

Anything else he would have said was ended by the rumbling as the ground lurched beneath his feet. He reached out for Mikey, his first instinct to shield his brother, but Mikey was suddenly so far away, reaching for Leo with a panicked expression on his face. Leo fought to reach him, but the air was somehow thicker, cloying, and as he watched, the lair began to dissolve around them.

It shifted, becoming different, and yet still somehow home, and then the home he knew was gone, taking his baby brother with it. A cry of fury and despair tore from Leo, as the home-that-wasn't-home began to fall apart.

When the dust cleared, he was left in the cold remains of an empty room, crumbling pillars and twisted girders looming over him like silent monuments in a tomb. He fell to his knees, choking. The air burned. And as he looked around, wiping his eyes, he realized that his worst fear was once again upon him.

He was in the cold and the dark. Alone.

Michelangelo prowled silently through the city, nunchucks in hand and every sense alert. He stayed in the shadows, even though they clung to him like tar; it was still safer than emerging into the hellish light of the dancing flames. The shadows were familiar, they were something he could deal with. And he knew in his bones that he was being hunted.

Then something caught his attention and he froze in place; a faint cry echoed through the darkness, one filled with emotions he recognised. He frowned and started moving quickly in that direction, a sense of urgency filling him. That was something new, something unexpected - and something that wasn't meant to be here.

His pace increased, and before he knew it, he was running - still silent, still unseen, but running as fast as he could nonetheless.

Leo staggered through the murky ruins, coughing, his eyes streaming. The air was cruel; it hurt to breathe. He didn't understand what was happening. He hadn't felt so lost since he'd been broken.

Something tripped him in the dark and he went down hard, his hands scraping on broken concrete. Gasping for breath, he tried to struggle back to his feet — but couldn't. He glanced down, and his eyes widened. The tangled rebar that reached from the ruined walls like demented metal vines had twined around his feet, pinning them together. He attempted to reach for them, to pull the metal apart, but there was more behind him, weaving around his wrists, locking them together behind his back.

Crying out, he fought against the twisted metal, lunging vainly against it as it dug into his skin, when a sound from the darkness caught his attention. Fighting to breathe, he strained to see through the dark, until he could finally make out the shadows against the deeper blackness. Shadows with swords in their hands, and eyes that glowed red in the gloom.

Ahead was a collapsed building - but this one wasn't made of twisting shadow and sparks. A dark opening ringed with broken rebar like some sort of toothy, gaping maw marked a passage that looked like it would lead into the heart of the ruin. As Michelangelo neared it, another cry echoed up from the tunnel.

Michelangelo dove into the tunnel, barely avoiding the rebar-teeth that tried to snap shut on him as he passed. He landed, rolled, and came up running. The air became thick and choking as he went deeper, and there seemed to be nothing but darkness ahead—

— then he suddenly burst out of the tunnel and into a more open area, where a ring of red-eyed shadows circled something in their midst, like jackals around wounded prey. A sword flashed as it was raised and held in the air for a moment, then fell like a lightning strike.

But it never reached its target, halted mere inches from landing by the chain of Mike's nunchucks wrapped around the blade. An instant later the weapon was yanked away, and as soon as it had been parted from its shadowy wielder it dissipated into mist.

The shadowforms recoiled from the sudden attack, then went to retaliate, but Michelangelo was no longer there. He was already moving again, speeding around the outside of the circle with his nunchucks thrumming through the air, aiming for the eyes and blades. The shadows pursued him, their red eyes flaring with rage and their initial prey momentarily forgotten.

He drew them away, darting and weaving between them, then suddenly sheathed his nunchucks and leapt towards what he could now see was Leonardo, held down by living rebar.

There was a scrape of metal as Michelangelo landed beside him and drew one of Leonardo's katana. Two quick swipes severed the rebar holding Leo down, and the stumps writhed in apparent pain before falling limp. Then Michelangelo was standing defensively between Leo and the angry shadows, the katana held ready. "You okay?"

Leo thrashed against his bindings as the shadow raised its sword, feeling the jagged metal tearing against his skin, but he couldn't free himself. Couldn't think…

And then, he didn't have to. Vengeance lunged from the darkness, taking down his attacker, and as Leo strained to make out details through his burning eyes, it was more feeling than sight that finally told him who his rescuer was.

"Mikey…?"

He jerked against the metal holding him as Michelangelo yanked a katana off his back — wait, when did I put those— and then he collapsed against the ground as Mikey severed the living metal.

He tried to gain his footing, but it was so hard. His eyes were streaming, and his lungs burned. But the shadows were still there. He had to get up. He had to. A whimper of frustration slipped out of him as he staggered and went down hard on his knees again.

Get up… have to… my brother… have to protect…

"Mikey… can't breathe…" He was gasping now. "Mikey, why does it hurt?"

He cringed, hating himself. He was the leader. The protector. Yet his voice echoed around the ruin like that of a lost, frightened child.

Michelangelo stayed protectively between his little big brother and the lurking shadowforms, his borrowed katana held in a low guard. But the shadows didn't advance; they just started to slowly spread out, moving to circle the pair. They seemed to be waiting for something.

At the gasped, desperate question, he glanced back at Leonardo, struggling to rise from the floor. Only then did he notice how much his throat and lungs burned, and he realised what the shadows were waiting for. "We've gotta get outta here." Leonardo's question went unanswered, because Mike honestly had no answer for him. This was all wrong; this Leonardo wasn't supposed to be here. He had to find a way to get him somewhere safe, get him home.

The shadows were still circling, but they hadn't managed to cut them off entirely from the exit yet. He'd have to move fast - it was a good thing that fast was his speciality. He took a deep breath, ignoring how it burned all the way down, then suddenly launched into action, a blur of movement. The blade of his borrowed katana flashed in the darkness, almost singing through the air as Michelangelo swept through the shadows like a hurricane, each blow aimed for those malevolent red eyes.

The shadowforms closed in on him, radiating hate and fury as their own blades flashed, but he ducked and dodged and twisted fluidly, never quite where they expected him to be. Suddenly he leapt for the wall, hitting it with both feet before propelling himself up and over the shadows' heads.

Michelangelo landed in a crouch next to Leonardo's gasping form, then dropped to one knee. He hadn't escaped entirely unscathed - there were nicks and shallow cuts scattered across his body, but he wasn't going to let anything slow him down. He slammed the katana back home into its sheath, then with a grunt of effort hefted Leonardo up over his shoulder and bolted for the tunnel mouth. By now he was gasping for breath and silently hoping that, despite Leo's additional weight, he'd still be fast enough to get them out before the shadows recovered and closed in again.

It was times like this that he really missed having both arms.

Leo grunted as he was slung unceremoniously over Mikey's shoulder. For a moment, he started to struggle, but quickly realized how stupid that was. He'd been down there — wherever there was — too long. He couldn't walk. He couldn't even breathe. His vision was starting to grey around the edges, and he latched on to the strap across Mikey's shell, clinging for all he was worth, every step Mikey took jarring his aching head.

The skin around his wrists was a mess. But as he stared at it, Leo couldn't miss the cuts that dotted Mikey's body as well. Damn it. He'd failed. Some leader.

"Sorry," he managed to gasp out. "Couldn't…protect…."

Those were all the words he could get out. Defeated, he sagged against Mikey's shell, staring back into the darkness of the tunnel, watching it as it twisted, and roiled…

Leo's eyes widened as the shadows coalesced, forming into something dark and twisted, a dozen glowing yellow eyes blinking from a creature like a malevolent, tentacled mass of tar.

He couldn't even breathe to call out a warning. Letting go of his hold, he reached one hand to his own belt, drawing out a shuriken and letting it fly with the last of his strength.

It sank deep into one of the creature's eyes, and the thing started screaming. The noise crashed into Leo like a wall of sound, and he let out a cry to echo the creature's as the scream threatened to split his already aching head in two.

Michelangelo tightened his grip on Leonardo as he squirmed, and didn't loosen it even after he'd stopped fidgeting. "Don't worry 'bout it," he grunted out in reply to the gasped apology, his voice hoarse. His chest burned, his breath rasping in his throat, but he didn't let that slow him down. I'm getting you out of here, I swear.

Suddenly Leonardo was moving on his back again, and he glanced back over his shoulder just in time to see the shadowy, tentacled creature take a shuriken to the eye. Then the screaming wall of sound hit him and he staggered, desperately trying to catch himself without letting go of Leo. He hit the wall with his left shoulder, rebounded off, and somehow managed to get his feet back under him and keep running.

The scream went on and on, tearing into his head and reverberating through his bones. Shadowy tendrils lashed out towards him, some trying to catch him while others raced ahead, apparently trying to cut him off.

"Ahh, shell…" He put on a burst of speed, pushing his already-burning muscles to the limit as he raced for the tunnel mouth. He did his best to shield Leo as much as he could, hurdling over and ducking under the flailing, grasping tentacles. The mouth of the tunnel was almost in reach…

Michelangelo made a last, desperate leap, hurling himself forwards through the tunnel opening and twisting himself around to get beneath Leonardo. He hit the ground on the left side of his shell and skidded along, his arm around Leo's waist as he kept him from hitting the ground. As soon as they'd stopped moving he carefully rolled Leo off and kicked himself up to his feet, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath.

Shadowy tentacles lashed out of the tunnel opening, flailing at the air and gripping the sides of the opening. A moment later the yellow-eyed creature began pulling itself out of the tunnel, still screaming. Michelangelo drew his nunchucks and started them spinning as he dropped into a ready crouch, placing himself squarely between the beast and his little big brother. Nothing was getting to his brother, not while he still lived and breathed.

Leo coughed, trembling, as he tried to get his bearings. His eyes were still raw and streaming, though his lungs no longer felt like they were being raked by claws every time he tried to draw a breath. The air was harsh, and hard to breathe, but no longer actually painful.

Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, he tried to make out what was going on. If only the screaming would stop. His head….

There. Everything was blurry, but there was writhing darkness ahead of him. And then a green shape placed itself stubbornly between Leo and the darkness.

Dammit!

Still fighting weakness, dizzy from the lack of air for so long, Leo pushed himself to his knees. Reaching back, he drew a katana, jamming it into the ground and using it to lever himself to his feet. His legs felt like they were made of rubber, but that wasn't about to stop him. He yanked the katana out of the ground and staggered closer to Mikey.

"Not… gonna leave you… alone."

Michelangelo glanced over as Leo staggered up beside him; at his words, a welter of conflicting emotions surged through him, but he quickly suppressed them again. He just bumped his scarred left shoulder against Leo's right, the contact brief but sincere. "Appreciated, Leo."

He then returned his focus to the shadow beast still squeezing its way out of the tunnel. It had finally stopped screaming, at least for the moment, but its eerie yellow eyes were fixed on the two turtles, radiating hatred and menace. He knew that Leo still needed a little time to recover, and he wasn't going to let anything touch him until he had.

So. Distraction time.

Michelangelo suddenly launched forwards, his spiked nunchucks whirling through the air. At his approach, some of the tentacles that had been focused on pulling the creature forward lashed out towards him instead. He managed to avoid most of the blows; some he fended off with his nunchucks or his feet, but any limb he hit burst into formless smoke before reforming a few moments later.

He kept ducking and weaving, moving unpredictably in and out of the tentacles' apparent range. Bursts of smoke marked his path, but the tentacles kept coming. There were too many for him to dodge and block all of them, and they were all too solid when they managed to land blows of their own.

One tentacle managed to snag him around the leg and lift him high into the air. As much as he twisted around, Michelangelo couldn't land a hit on it — and then the tentacle whipped downwards, slamming him into the ground.

"Mikey, no!" Leo screamed. He still couldn't see much, but what he had was enough to let him know what had happened. He could barely see the creature at all, but he could see Mikey. Could see enough to know that Mikey was on the ground. Not moving.

He raced toward the thing, the movement more of a drunken stumble than anything as his limbs still hadn't fully recovered, swinging his katana at the appendage that held his brother. The thing moved away, and without Mikey to sight off of, Leo was suddenly blind. He swung wildly, crying out as one of the inky limbs grabbed him. The stuffhurt. He swung the katana again and cut himself free, moving out of range.

Think, Leo. Use your training. This is not the first time you've had to fight blind.

Leo drew a deep breath, only coughing a little in the stale air, and closed his eyes. Slowly, he extended his senses. Waiting. Listening. Sensing the movements around him.

There.

He lashed out, letting his training take over, and finally his legs were doing what he wanted them to. He spun, lashing out in an intricate dance, weaving his way around the threat as he cut his way through the creature, buying them time, waiting for Mikey to get up. To figure out a way to get away.

Because Leo was now, quite literally, fighting blind. He had no idea where to run.

For a moment Michelangelo just lay there, stunned and winded and gasping for breath. The tentacle around his leg began dragging him along the ground, preparing to pick him up again for another swing.

Then there was movement nearby, and the harsh grip around his leg was suddenly gone. He blinked rapidly to clear the stars from his eyes, then managed to haul himself to his feet, still winded and aching. Luckily he'd never let go of his nunchucks; he was able to use them to fend off the tentacles that came at him again as he forced his battered body to cooperate.

Another flash of movement caught his eye, and he saw Leo in the middle of his deadly dance, blades flashing in the smoke surrounding him. He took a deep breath, then dove back into the fray, striving to get to his brother's side.

"Leo! We need to go for its eyes!"

Leo allowed himself a flash of relief at the sound of Mikey's voice. "Great plan," he called back, ducking as he sensed another appendage swinging at his head. "Only one problem — I can't actually see its eyes."

In the darkness of the tunnel, he'd been able to make out the glow of the eyes against the greater shadow. Now, out of the tunnel, all he could see was a black smear, when his eyes stopped burning long enough to let him see at all. He closed them again, finding that he fought better without the distraction of the vision he couldn't trust. "Can't see much of anything, actually. Gonna need your help if you want me to hit a specific target." He could sense Mikey at his side now. He took a step to the right, giving himself room to swing without hitting his brother.

Ground he knew had been solid just a second ago gave way beneath his feet, sinking him up to his knees in thick, sticky mud. He swore, fluently and creatively in Japanese, as he attempted to yank his feet free, but he was stuck fast. Another appendage curled around his arm, attempting to pull his katana out of his hand, but there was no way in hell he was letting that go.

"Have I mentioned—" he said, as he hacked at the appendage with his other sword, "how much—I hate this place?"

"Not yet, but I can guess!" Michelangelo swore under his breath at the news that Leo couldn't see — a blind Leonardo hit a little too close to home. Still, that was something he knew how to work around; he just hoped that this Leo was as good a shot as his own Leo.

He fended off another wave of the tentacles that were lashing out at him, then glanced back at the Japanese swearing. Wow, there's a term I haven't heard in a whi— wait, mud? Seriously?! This place seemed determined to get rid of Leo in any way possible. It was, in his opinion, getting a little ridiculous.

He leapt towards his brother, nunchucks lashing out at the tentacles trying to grab Leo. They dissipated into more puffs of smoke as the weapon found its targets, and Michelangelo worked hard to keep any more tentacles from getting anywhere near his little big brother.

"On my mark, shuriken spread at one o'clock, head height!" Michelangelo dodged off to one side, drawing the tentacles after him. "Mark!"

Three shuriken whipped through the air and found their target, embedding themselves into the cluster of burning yellow eyes. The reaction was immediate; all the tentacles withdrew defensively back to the creature, and another deafening scream ripped through the air. At least now that they were outside of the confines of the tunnel, the noise wasn't quite so concentrated.

The beast began to retreat back down the tunnel, still screaming, but Michelangelo wasn't going to stick around and wait for it to recover. He dashed back to Leo's side, holstering his nunchucks on the way, then grabbed his brother as best he could and pulled. At first the mud didn't budge, but he dug his feet into the ground and hauled even harder. Finally the mud released its grip on Leo's legs with a sickening squelch, and Michelangelo went sprawling backwards, his arm still wrapped around his brother.

Leo wouldn't have thought it possible, but he actually found himself calming at Mikey's shouted instruction. This was training. This was familiar. This he could do. He sheathed his katana and dug the shuriken out of his belt, releasing them at Mikey's command.

The screaming told him he'd found his mark, and it still threatened to split his aching head open, though it didn't have quite the same brain-melting strength it had had before. An instant later, he felt an arm wrap around him and start pulling. It hurt, but Leo gritted his teeth against it, refusing to make a sound as Mikey dragged him free of his imprisonment.

They fell back, Leo's eyes opening instinctively despite the fact that they still burned and watered enough to render the world an indecipherable smear, but he didn't have to worry. Mikey's arm stayed around him. And despite the fact that he was the big brother, and the leader, he allowed himself a small moment to curl against his older, stronger baby brother and cling to him, letting himself believe for just a minute that Mikey could protect him from this place that seemed to want Leo very, very dead.

"Come on," Mikey said after a moment, taking Leo's arm and pulling him to his feet. "It's not safe here. We need to find someplace…less immediately dangerous."

Leo tried to follow, but the terrain was rough and he still couldn't see, and the second time he stumbled over fallen rubble, a yank on his arm spun him around and the air was driven out of him as he found himself over Mikey's shoulder again. This time, he did struggle, but even though Leo was taller than his big little brother, Michelangelo was stupidly strong.

"This is so unheroic," Leo muttered as he slumped against Mikey's shell.

"So's tripping over and faceplanting into a building," Michelangelo pointed out dryly, keeping his voice low. "Hold on." He began to run, wanting to put as much distance between them and the shadow-beast as possible.

After a short while though he slowed down as they moved deeper into the shadow-city, his movements cautious and silent. Occasionally he'd pause to listen, crouched low to the ground in the lee of whatever cover was available, before setting out again. Sometimes he'd dash across a road or other open area, the burning light from some nearby blazing ruin briefly casting their own distorted shadows long and eerie across the ground.

He seemed to know exactly where he was going; he never hesitated in choosing his path, weaving his way through the ruined city without faltering. And no matter how Michelangelo moved, his grip around Leonardo never shifted or wavered, anchoring his little big brother securely to his shoulder.

Finally Michelangelo made one last dash across a road and through a gap in a broken wall, and suddenly they were no longer amongst the shadow-buildings. Instead, they were surrounded by bare, withered trees, their barren branches reaching towards the sky like skeletal fingers. The dead grass underfoot was patchy and brittle, but Michelangelo still made no sound as he drifted between the trees.

Soon there was the faint sound of trickling, seeping water, and a few moments later Michelangelo came to a halt and carefully let Leo down off his shoulder, making sure he was steady on his feet before letting go. They were in a tiny clearing amongst the trees, with the remains of a thin, rocky stream running along one side. "We can rest here for a bit," he murmured, his voice a little hoarse. "How're your eyes?"

Leo grabbed onto Mikey's belt as he began to run, but he didn't actually need to worry about falling off. He'd tested Mikey's grip a couple of times, but Mikey had Leo locked firmly in place; he wasn't going anywhere. Which also meant that Mikey wasn't letting anything take Leo away from him. And as humiliating and embarrassing as it was to be carted around like a sack of laundry, Leo would never, ever, ever admit that he found that last thought…strangely comforting.

Something began nagging at Leo as Mikey carried him through what his bleary eyes could make out as a ruined city. Mikey was good at this. Too good at this. And it was bringing up a lot of questions that Leo wasn't entirely sure he wanted the answers to. But those would keep. As Mikey finally let him down, steadying him as Leo's legs wobbled, his eyes were still his biggest concern.

"Hurt like crazy," Leo answered. He opened them, blinking as they watered. "Whatever made it crazy hard to breathe down there didn't like my eyes much, either. I think it's getting better, though. Breathing's better, anyway. The air still sucks, but at least it's stopped hurting me." He rubbed at his reddened eyes as they continued to stream, and then froze, realizing what the action must have looked like. He fixed the green blob that was Mikey with his best glare and said flatly, "I am not crying."

"The thought never crossed my mind, bro," Michelangelo reassured Leonardo with a faint grin, his voice tinged with amusement, and he reached out to rub the top of Leo's head. It felt a little odd having to reach up to do it, but he managed. "Yeah, the air sucks up here, but you get used to it. Hold on a sec."

He made his way to the tiny stream, using his teeth to help him rip a section of one of his bandanna tails off. Kneeling on the ground, he rinsed the cloth in the thin stream of water, wringing it out a few times to make sure it was as clean as possible before soaking it and getting back to his feet with a slight huff of effort. His muscles burned from the long exertion, and his back ached from being pounded into the ground, but Michelangelo wasn't going to let any of that slow him down if he could at all help it. He had a brother to protect.

He went back to Leo and nudged his arm with his knuckles to get his attention, the sopping cloth dangling from his fingers. "Here, this should help."

But you get used to it.

If Leo had had his suspicions before, Mikey's offhanded comment confirmed them. He took the cloth from his brother, carefully wiping his burning eyes. It helped a little, and as the cool liquid flushed the toxins from them, the skeletal trees around them, and the ruined buildings behind those, began to resolve themselves.

Leo sank to the withered grass, continuing to wipe his eyes. "So you know this place pretty well, then," he said quietly. "Mikey… where are we?"

Michelangelo followed Leonardo's lead and also sank down to the ground, sitting cross-legged and leaning his elbow against his knee. At the question, he let out a long, quiet sigh and shrugged, hesitating for a brief moment.

He didn't want to admit how well he knew the place. He didn't even want to acknowledge that he'd even been here before, though he knew he couldn't hide that fact, especially not from Leonardo. Leo had always been almost eerily observant. But most of all, he wanted to protect his little big brother from the knowledge of the nightmare that his own reality had become.

"… Wish I could answer that, bro."

Leo raised a brow. "Because you don't know, or because you don't want me to know?"

Leo wasn't stupid. He was pretty sure he knew what was going on. But he also knew what it was to need to protect a younger sibling from knowing things that could hurt him. He'd done the same to the Mikey he'd fought the ratroaches with, after all, accepting that Mikey's comfort while refusing to tell him about dying in the ice.

So Leo held his tongue, and shifted closer to Michelangelo, until their knees just touched. Even healed, he still found he needed physical contact with his brothers more than usual. Even strange older ones from another dimension.

"I think the worst of it's out," he said, giving his eyes a final swipe. "How do they look?"

"Because I don't know how," Michelangelo replied simply, with another little shrug. And that was true; he really didn'tknow how to explain where they were, at least not in any way that would make much sense. Not without revealing more than he wanted to.

As Leo's knee came to rest against his, he twitched slightly, more out of surprise than anything else, then hesitantly returned the contact. Once Leo had finished wiping his eyes, he leaned in a little to get a closer look, silently relieved at the topic change. "… Like pepperoni," he replied with a little grin. "But better. Definitely better."

A slight sound on the edge of hearing suddenly caught his attention, and he tensed, whipping his head around to face where the noise had come from. For a moment there was nothing, then he heard it again; a creak, a groan, the scrape of wood against wood. It came again, from a different direction, then another, then every direction at once.

Then the trees themselves seemed to be moving, barren branches clawing against the darkened sky. Michelangelo was immediately back on his feet, nunchucks in hand as he planted himself in a ready crouch by Leo's right side. "Ah,shell."

Leo swore again — he'd really been exercising his Japanese vocabulary today — and staggered to his feet, drawing his katana as he rose. He moved to position his shell against Mikey's, the move ingrained, instinctive. When danger threatens and there's only two of you, you put your brother at your back.

"So any idea what's going on now, or is this another one of those things you don't know how to tell me?" Leo ducked as a branch whipped uncomfortably close to his head. The trees were definitely shifting, pressing closer.

As though that one branch had been a signal, the trees attacked with a sound like a hurricane through a dead forest. Leo lashed out as the twisting branches reached for him, cutting through as much as he could, but though his katana were sharp, some of the limbs were really thick. His left katana lodged in one, and the branch jerked away, taking his katana with it before Leo could yank it out.

He heard a muffled curse behind him, and turned in time to see Mikey fending off one wall of branches, unaware of the pointed spears of wood hurtling toward him from behind. Leo was instantly in the air, bringing his katana down two-handed and severing the limb threatening his brother.

Which was when the roots burst through the ground beneath him, tangling his legs and beginning to draw him down into the earth.

"This is new!" Michelangelo's voice was tight and edged with frustration. This wasn't something he'd dealt with before - it was new, and unexpected, and he didn't know what to do. With the hostile trees crowding in all around them, there was no room for him to take advantage of his speed and agility, nowhere to run - and feeling his brother's shell pressing back against his own, he wouldn't have run anyway, not without Leo.

He whirled his nunchucks with splintering force, smashing through the thinner branches as he defended himself and his brother. But the thicker branches proved impervious to his blows, his weapon bouncing off them ineffectively. He let out a muffled curse, doing his best to fend off the oncoming wall of branches.

Then suddenly the pressure of his brother's shell against his was gone, and he looked back in alarm. Roots were wrapped around Leonardo's legs and striving to catch his arms as well, even as they began to pull the struggling turtle downwards.

"Leo!" Michelangelo spun around to get to Leo's side, but a thick branch lashed towards him; with so many other branches lashing out at him, he had nowhere to dodge, and the branch knocked him away. He crashed to the ground on his back, and more roots burst upwards around him, snaring his limbs and holding him fast. He struggled futilely against them, unable to get any leverage as the roots began to pull him down as well.

"Leo!"

"Mikey!"

Leo's struggles redoubled as the roots began to take his brother down, too. It wasn't fair! What the hell did this place have against him, anyway?

He couldn't get the right angle to free his legs. Not without cutting them off in the process. But there was something he could do now that his eyes had cleared. He moved his katana to his left hand — Splinter had taught them to fight with both, but for this, he was still stronger on his right. Digging into his belt, he readied his shuriken and sent them flying toward his brother.

Some severed the roots, sending them writhing and spraying a watery green sap. Others simply lodged in them, weakening them where they entered the ground. One of them thunked into the side of Mikey's shell, and Leo winced.Sorry, bro. It would have to be enough. He was up to his waist in dirt, now.

"Mikey, get out of here!"

As the severed and wounded roots writhed in apparent pain, the spurting sap burning his skin, their grip loosened and Michelangelo finally managed to tear himself free. He was immediately back on his feet and fighting through the branches again, determined to get back to Leo.

"Not without you!" he yelled back. "I'm not failing again!"

A glint overhead caught his eye, and he spotted the katana lodged in a branch. He swiftly hooked his nunchuck back into his belt and leapt for the branch, catching hold of it with his hand before twisting around to wrap his legs over it, hanging upside down. As the branch flailed around, trying to shake him off, he grabbed the hilt of the katana and managed to yank it out of the wood.

Then more branches were lashing towards him, and before he could let go, another thick branch had pinned his legs against the one he was hanging off, the rough bark ripping into his skin. He bit back a snarl of pain and tried to free himself, but to no avail. Both branches were too thick for him to break or cut, and more were moving in to pin him in place.

So he looked back down at Leo, aiming carefully, then hurled the katana down like a thunderbolt. It cut through some of the roots around Leo with a spray of sap and embedded point-first in the ground by Leo's right side.

Leo let out a yelp as the sap from the severed roots seared his skin, and grabbed onto his second katana, using it as an anchor to help himself haul free of the soil as he hacked at the limbs still imprisoning him.

"Dammit Mikey!" He dragged his foot free of the ground. "Why—are you—so stubborn?"

He cried out as branches raked along his arm, breaking the skin, but he was finally free. He tumbled forward, turning the move into a roll and launching himself as soon as his feet were underneath him again. He ricocheted off the trunk of the nearest tree, tucking the leap and spinning to avoid more of the branches, kicking off the grasping limbs until he was above Michelangelo. Turning, he propelled himself downward, speeding toward his brother like a stooping hawk.

Sheathing one katana as he fell, he grasped the remaining one in both hands, and as he reached Mikey, brought his full weight to bear on the limbs imprisoning his brother. He severed one and cut most of the way through the other, grabbing Michelangelo's ankle on his way down and using his weight to pull him the rest of the way free. They fell together, hitting the ground in a spray of branches and twigs. Leo was back on his feet in an instant, dragging Mikey up by the strap over his shoulder. He planted a hand on Michelangelo's shell and shoved him toward a break in the trees. "Go!" he screamed, and spun, bringing his katata to bear to cover their retreat.

"Same reason you are!"

Then Michelangelo was crashing downwards through the branches with Leonardo in a shower of twigs and bark. He managed to twist around just enough to avoid landing on his head, instead hitting the ground with his left shoulder.Good thing I don't really need that one… A moment later he was being hauled to his feet, then shoved towards a gap in the trees.

He staggered forwards, then nearly fell again as pain exploded in his left leg from where the branches had pinned it, tearing the skin and mangling the flesh. It was only through sheer force of will that he managed to stay on his feet.

Gritting his teeth, he fended off the lashing branches with his nunchucks and kept moving forwards as fast as he could, though every step sent bolts of pain shooting up his leg. He could hear Leonardo following behind him; the sounds of katana smashing through brittle wood and the occasional Japanese curse.

Somehow, they managed to reach the break in the trees - and that's when more roots burst up out of the ground without warning, even as branches lashed down from above. Michelangelo instinctively tried to dodge out of the way, but his leg collapsed beneath him, pitching him sideways against a tree trunk.

Before he could recover the roots had lashed around him, tangling his limbs and pinning him against the trunk. One root wrapped around his throat and began to squeeze, cutting off his breath as he struggled in vain, blood oozing from the multitude of cuts and scrapes.

Something was wrong. Leo had been listening with half an ear to the sounds of battle behind him, their rhythms familiar as a lullaby. But when they ceased, he gave up the covering of their retreat and spun, his eyes widening in horror as he saw what the trees were doing to Mikey.

Oh no. No. NOT while I'm still standing.

He had no room left for words. His gaze glazing over as he let the ninja in him take control, he ran for Michelangelo. The trees attempted to stop his flight, branches and roots lashing out toward him, but he was having none of them. Those that he didn't go over, under, or around fell beneath his katana.

Nothing was going to stop him from getting to his brother.

He slammed into the tree where Mikey was pinned, his katana driving through the roots that held him. Sheathing one katana, he grabbed the limb that was choking his brother, this one thicker than the others, and he screamed as he dragged it free.

"Mikey, you still with me?" Leo reached for him, cursing as a root tangled around his wrist, yanking it downward. "Mikey, please, answer me!"

Michelangelo couldn't breathe, could barely move against the cruelly tight roots pinning him to the tree trunk, and spots began to dance in front of his vision as he struggled for air.

Then suddenly some of the roots pinning him down were cut loose, and the one around his throat pulled away enough for him to draw a gasping, shuddering breath. He couldn't answer Leo; he was too busy trying to get air through his abused throat and back into his oxygen-starved lungs.

As his lungs painfully refilled and his vision cleared, something — instinct, a glimpse of movement, an out of place sound — caught his attention. One tree, bigger and more solid than the rest, seemed to be getting larger—

— then he realised it wasn't getting larger, it was falling, falling with maliciously deliberate intent — and aiming straight for Leonardo, still busy fighting off the roots and branches that sought to entangle them both again.

Thoughts raced like lightning through Michelangelo's mind, and time seemed to slow down as the tree trunk descended towards his brother.

This is my reality, not his, he shouldn't be here, he shouldn't be suffering like this, this isn't right, I have to get him out of here, I won't let him be hurt any more, I have to protect him, I won't give up again!

This is not your nightmare!

With a hoarse, wordless cry, Michelangelo ripped himself free of the remaining roots, his skin tearing. He hurled himself at Leonardo and shoved him out of the way with all his strength, before his leg collapsed beneath him and he fell to one knee.

Then the tree crashed down with thunderous force, branches flying everywhere, and Michelangelo disappeared from sight beneath it.

Leo was taken utterly by surprise when Mikey tore free of his bonds and threw himself at Leo, sending him flying with the force of the blow. He hit the ground rolling, instantly back on his feet — and froze, staring at the twisted remains of the tree that writhed and dug into the ground even as Leo watched.

"No…" Leo whispered, his hand outstretched toward the nest of branches that lay where his brother had been. "Mikey?"

A sob caught in his throat, and he threw himself at the branches, hacking violently at them. But even as they cleared, there was no sign of green beneath them. Just the dead, withered grass. Wordless cries of desperation tore from him as he continued to flail at the branches, frantic to find any sign of Mikey, but there was nothing.

He was so focused on reaching his fallen brother, he didn't even notice when the trees closed in around him. Only when the light left, as the branches overhead blocked out the sun, did he notice what was happening. His arm drifted downward, slack, as roots twined around his legs and branches cracked and folded around his arms, pinning them into place.

And had there been anyone around to see him before the trees obliterated him from sight completely, they would have seen that there was no trace of Leo left in his eyes.

Then there was nothing but silence in the shattered, ruined landscape. Silence, and a dead mountain of trees.

….

…

…

And then, a sound began to grow beneath the silence. A scream of pure, unadulterated rage, torn raw from a throat too young and too innocent to have to bear that kind of emotion. The sound grew, swelling from beneath the pile of twisted limbs, until the entire thing shuddered from the force of it.

Leo had learned long ago to avoid anger. That was Raph's domain. When Raph got angry, people got beaten and family got saved.

When Leo got angry… people died.

He had spent years learning to dam the well of cold anger that lay deep beneath his surface. To keep it locked away, hidden, until even his brothers forgot that it was there.

But now, every check, every block, every defence he had was gone, ripped away by the force of his scream.

This world… it's a nightmare. It took my brother. But now, it will have a reason to fear me. When it dreams of horrors in the dark, it will be me this world dreams of.

The anger flowed forth from him in waves, and as he screamed, he became aware of shapes in the darkness. A glow, burning hot and furious, spread over his skin, running in cold fire over his limbs, his rage made manifest. Still screaming, he drew his katana across his chest, tensed for one perfect moment, and released his anguish into the strike.

His katana cleaved through the branches like shears through gossamer. He rose to his full height, and kept rising. The glowing blue fire rolled over him, his katana now burning with the cold flames, and yet the fire continued to grow, lifting him from the ground, spreading away from him in a haze of grief and fury. The nebulous shape surrounding him shifted and changed, one moment a turtle, the next a man standing tall and proud, until finally it grew into a shape resembling a winged dragon, fangs bared and claws ready to strike.

Then the light drew into Leo with the quickness of a breath, concentrating around him until he burned like a star in the dark.

And with a final scream, the fire was unleashed, roiling like a tsunami across the landscape and leaving destruction in its wake.

And when the fire cleared, Leo was standing alone in a field of desolation, nothing around as far as the eye could see but himself and his fallen katana.

And his brother lying on the ground at his feet.

He reached down, the fire still in his eyes, and grasped Michelangelo's wrist. And the last of the fire poured into the broken shape of his brother, and made his wounds whole.

The last of the fire spent, Leo dropped Michelangelo's wrist. He took two staggering steps back before he collapsed, boneless, to the ground.

Michelangelo wasn't sure what had happened; there'd been a crushing impact, and pain, and darkness, and the feeling of drowning in shadow — then a scream like nothing he'd ever heard before, and a tidal wave of pure, blue-white fire crashing over him, washing away the pain and the shadows and filling him with light—

— then he blinked, and found himself lying on the ground, feeling better than he had in years. He quickly got to his feet and looked around, uncertain and wary. He spotted the fallen katana, then let out a wordless sound of alarm as he saw the crumpled, motionless form of Leonardo lying nearby.

"Leo!" A moment later he was kneeling by Leo's side, gathering his limp brother up and cradling him against his chest. "Leo, can you hear me?" Please be all right, please… He tried to find any signs of life; breathing, movement, the flicker of an eyelid, anything. "C'mon, bro…"

But if there were any signs of life, Michelangelo wasn't seeing them. He pressed his forehead gently against Leonardo's, his eyes squeezed shut as the old, familiar guilt and the bitter taste of failure rushed through him. "Leo… I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…."

Cold. And darkness. And the sound of his brother's voice…

…a touch. Frightened. Warm.

something to follow…

Step by agonizing step, Leo dragged himself back from the dark. He became aware first of the arm around him, sheltering him in strength and love. Then it was the touch against his brow, so familiar from the countless times he'd done it with his brothers.

Leo's eyes fluttered open, and he found himself staring at Michelangelo, his brother's eyes squeezed closed as he repeated something over and over. Sharp words. Cutting words. Leo frowned. He didn't like that.

His left arm was pinned against Michelangelo, but his right was free, and his hand drifted up to cradle the back of Mikey's head. A gesture of longstanding comfort in his family.

"It's okay, shin-niichan," he said, his voice ragged and cracked as old leaves. "I found you."

"… Leo?!" Michelangelo's eyes flew open as he felt the hand cradling the back of his head and heard the ragged words, and he barely managed to keep from jerking away in surprise. Instead, he leaned back carefully to get a better look at his brother while still letting that comforting hand rest against his head.

"Shell, Leo…" His voice was tight and rough, and he swallowed before suddenly pulling Leo into as tight a hug as he could manage with one arm, burying his face against his moto-niisan's shoulder. "I'm sorry…"

Leo freed his trapped arm so that he could wrap it around Mikey too, putting all the comfort and support he could into the hug. "What for?" He let one hand trace circles on Mikey's shell, as he had done so many times for his baby brother as he clung to Leo, begging him to chase away a nightmare in the dark. "You saved me. I would have been under that tree if not for you."

"You wouldn't even be here getting hurt in the first place if it wasn't for me," Michelangelo muttered into Leo's shoulder. He stayed there for a moment, then finally let out a little sigh. He pulled back enough to look at Leo, but not enough to break the hug. "Speaking of the tree though… what happened after that?"

Leo frowned. "You can't know that," he said. "Maybe I'd have ended up here anyway, but without you to help me. The rift's done weirder since I fell through it." He tightened his arms at Mikey's second question, afraid that his brother would pull away when he heard the answer. "…I got mad," he whispered after a moment. He looked around at the desolation surrounding them. "I think I broke the world." He smiled a little. "Fixed you, though. Got kinda sleepy after that."

"Heh. Remind me not to get you mad at me." Michelangelo didn't pull away, though a shadow briefly flickered across his face, and he glanced around to try and hide it before looking back at Leonardo with a wry grin. "Well bro, you definitely left your mark. I can see why you'd get sleepy after something like that." He shifted a little to get more comfortable. "I think we can afford to rest a bit - you've earned it."

Leo sighed, shifting a little, that tiny change in positioning switching him from comforter to comforted. He rested his head against Michelangelo's shoulder. "Good. I'm really tired, Mikey."

"You and me both, bro," Michelangelo replied wryly. Despite all his injuries being healed by… whatever Leonardo had done, his muscles still ached with fatigue. So even though being out in the open made the back of his neck crawl, he was content to just sit there for now, not moving, with his brother cradled trustingly against his chest and using his shoulder as a pillow. But as they sat in comfortable silence, Michelangelo's mind was still churning.

Don't get used to it. Don't let yourself get too close. You know it won't last. It can't last. This isn't even your Leonardo.

Michelangelo quickly steered his mind away from thoughts of his own brothers, and distracted himself by carefully scanning their surroundings. He couldn't remember if he'd ever been this exposed, sitting out in the middle of empty, barren ground with no cover in sight. At least the clear area meant that he'd see anything coming anywhere near them well before it got within range - it helped to keep the instinct to get under cover, to remain unseen, from screaming at him too loudly.

Because Leo needed rest, and he was determined to give him as much of it as possible. So he remained alert, keeping a wary eye out for any sign of movement that might threaten his little big brother.

This may not be my Leo — but it doesn't matter. I'm not going to fail this one. Not if I can help it.

Leo cuddled into Mikey, trying to sort through the confusing welter of emotions washing over him. Whether it was rift-sense or the connection he'd made when he did whatever he'd done to fix Mikey — his memory was still a little vague on exactly what that was — he could feel the war of emotions within his big little brother. He was so guarded. He'd been hurt really badly, and his brothers were involved somehow. He could feel trust battling with distance, and did the only thing he could.

He latched on tighter, burying his head against his brother as though clinging like a limpet could somehow show him that Leo wasn't planning on going anywhere, and projected all the love and trust that he could. This Mikey may be strange, and they may have only known each other for one night, but as far as Leo was concerned, after the events of this night, Michelangelo was as much his brother as the Donatello who wore the blue mask around his neck.

Then, slowly, something began to intrude. A feeling deep within him, familiar somehow. A soft tremor ran through the ground, as though the world itself had shifted in sympathy.

Leo opened his eyes. "…something's coming."

Michelangelo felt the tremor in the ground at the same time as Leonardo, and he was immediately up on his feet, his arm still wrapped tightly around his limpet-imitating brother. "Hold on…"

Then, for the first time since finding his brother in this nightmare world, Michelangelo hesitated. He didn't know where to go; there was no cover anywhere nearby, nowhere to hide. He couldn't tell which direction the threat was coming from, or which way he could go to get away from it. The growing tremor seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, and the sky darkened with swiftly-gathering clouds. Only one thing was certain; he had to protect his little big brother.

Suddenly the ground underfoot exploded upwards in a massive blast of dirt and rock and thick, black tentacles, sending them flying high into the air. The explosion was accompanied by a mind-shattering scream, vibrating with rage and hate, and a cluster of malevolent yellow eyes glared up through the broken ground.

His head threatening to burst from the scream, Michelangelo instinctively curled himself protectively around his brother as they fell, the air thick with debris and thrashing tentacles. A thick shadow tentacle smashed into them from the side, hurling them away from the centre of the shadow mass. Michelangelo's arm went numb from the blow, and then the ground was rushing up to meet them.

They hit the ground rolling; despite their best efforts, the brothers lost their hold and were separated somewhere along the way, losing track of each other in the storm of dust and debris and flailing shadow-limbs.

Then, as he finally tumbled to a halt, Leonardo heard another scream, a ragged, hoarse one choked with agony and quickly cut off — and it hadn't come from the shadow beast.

Leo clung to Michelangelo as the world exploded around them. He'd lost his brother once. He was not losing him again. But though he held on with all he was worth, they were both weary, and as they hit the ground, despite the fact that Mikey was curled protectively around him, Leo found himself torn away as he fell.

He lay there, choking on the dust, when he heard the scream. Instantly, he was on his feet, running blind through the dust-clouded air toward it. That thing was not taking Mikey. No way. No how.

His lungs were burning again, clogged by the thick dust in the air, but as it began to settle, he could make out the monstrous shape of the shadow-beast, and the motionless form on the ground ahead. As Leo raced toward them, he cried out in horror. The thing had impaled Mikey through both legs. His gift, Mikey's blessing, and the creature had taken it from him. As Leo watched, more ink-dark appendages wrapped around his brother, and began dragging him toward the beast. The creature's body split, revealing a gaping maw lined with rows upon rows of razor teeth.

Leo screamed to rival the cries of the creature and lunged, his hand latching onto Mikey's wrist. He dug in his feet, but the creature was too strong, and he was pulled to the ground, trailing helplessly after them.

Desperately, Leo cast around for something, anything, to use against the creature, but the landscape was utterly barren, scoured clean by his rage, which was still exhausted.

Then, up ahead, something appeared from the settling dust. Something beloved and familiar. As they were dragged past it, Leo reached out with one hand and snagged the katana lying on the ground. With a cry of defiance, he jammed it to the hilt into the ground, and hung on tight as he and Michelangelo were drawn up short.

The creature screamed, yanking on Mikey, but Leo was not going to relinquish his hold on either the katana anchoring them in place, or on Mikey's wrist.

The thing would have to tear his arms off first.

Michelangelo could barely breathe through the agony crashing over him from his impaled legs - it was even worse than that time, long ago, when he'd had both legs broken in one of their fights against the Shredder. His arm was still numb and mostly unresponsive, and he scrabbled uselessly at the ground as the shadow-beast began dragging him towards its gaping, tooth-filled maw. Despair began to fill him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to fight back the emotion and the pain.

Suddenly there was a firm grasp around his wrist, a familiar three-fingered grip, and he felt his arm being pulled back as Leonardo tried to resist the drag of the tentacles. At first they were both dragged along, then somehow Leonardo managed to anchor himself — from his position on his back, he couldn't see how — and Michelangelo jerked to a halt. He let out a breathless gasp of pain as the tentacles kept pulling against the resistance, agony flaring up his legs as the shadow limbs tightened their grip and began working their way further up his body.

Now I know how the rope in a tug-o-war feels…

He bit back another cry of pain as the pressure increased — he felt like his arm was going to come out of its socket, and his shell was beginning to creak from the pressure of the tentacles tightening around it. If it weren't for his shell, he was pretty sure he would've already had all the air crushed out of him.

Then one of the tentacles wrapping around him pressed into the shuriken that was still embedded in the side of his shell. The whole mess of limbs flinched slightly before tightening again - but it was enough for him to twist himself around so he could look back at Leonardo. His jaw clenching in grim determination, he finally managed to force his numb fingers to work, and grabbed tightly onto his brother's forearm.

I'm not giving up. Not this time.

Leo felt Mikey's hand close around his arm, and looked down at him. Their gazes locked, and exchanged the words that would never be heard above the screaming of the creature.

I'm here. I'm with you. To the end. My brother.

The merciless limbs of the creature continued their attempt to prise Michelangelo free of him, but there was no way, now. He was never letting go, and neither was Mikey. The writhing tentacles strained toward them, wrapping around Leo now too, attempting to pull him free of the katana while squeezing the life from his body.

And still, Leo refused to let go.

The creature howled, a sound that knifed straight through his brain, drawing screams from Mikey and Leo as well. And then, beneath all that pain, and the agony in his limbs as his joints began to separate, he felt it again. That same nagging familiarity. That same shiver of sympathy from the ground.

But… that's impossible. The creature is already here…

Then, above the shrieking of the nightmare made flesh and the cries of the helpless brothers before it, another sound ripped through the air, causing all the others to fall silent beneath it.

"BOOYAKASHAAAAAA!"

Silver streaked across his field of vision, and Leo stared agape as a green blur plummeted from above. The kusarigama raked through the limbs holding Leonardo and Michelangelo like they were no more that shadow, and they dissolved instantly into mist.

And then Mikey was there. Mikey stood above him, feet planted on either side of Leo, with a glare of defiance on his face. "Quit hurting my brother!"

The shadow-creature screamed at him and Mikey screamed back, jamming the kusarigama back into his belt and raising his hands, his fingers crooked into claws. "Will you just shut up?"

In answer, the earth rose up on either side of the creature, two massive, three-fingered hands of solid rock spreading out on either side of it. Mikey slammed his hands together, and the screaming of the creature was instantly silenced. The only sound that remained was the soft pattering of the dark liquid that dripped from between the interlocked earthen hands.

Leo stared up at his baby brother, still not quite able to believe what he was seeing. Mikey, however, was not quite so paralyzed. He turned on Leo, jabbing an accusatory finger toward him. "You are really hard to find!"

"Mikey…" Leo breathed. He looked dumbly at the remains of the shadow-creature between the earthen fists. "Wha…how…"

"Please," he said, exasperated. "You think I don't know what the inside of my own head feels like? I spend enough time here."

Mikey turned, storming over to the fallen Michelangelo, and reached down, pulling him to his feet. Leo tried to call out a warning, but it was suddenly unnecessary. The horrible wounds the creature had inflicted on his big little brother were gone.

The younger Mikey gave his older, alternate self a once-over. "You really don't like letting other people in, do you?" He snorted. "That's stupid, though. Leo's good. You can trust him." Without another word, he wrapped his arms around the older Michelangelo. "Take care of my big brother, Badass Old Me. He'll do stupid stuff if he thinks he's protecting you, and I'd really like him back in one piece."

By this time, Leo had managed to struggle into a sitting position, which was when Mikey let go of his older self, turned on Leo, and barrelled into him like a speeding freight train. Leo would have gone over backward were it not for Mikey's arms wrapped around his neck and his legs wrapped around Leo's waist, and as Mikey touched him, he was swamped by that acknowledgement of familiarity from his rift-sense. Fine-tuned as it was to sensing the minute variations between his alternate brothers, it screamed the undeniable truth at him.

This was Mikey. His Mikey.

A pained, strangled sound was wrenched from Leo, and he threw his arms around his baby brother.

"Oh, I'm so glad you finally know what's going on!" Mikey said as he rested his chin on Leo's shoulder. "It gets sofrustrating to talk to you when you don't even know that you're missing!"

"Mikey? It's really you?"

His little brother drew back, resting his forehead against Leo's. "I don't have a lot of time, okay? But I need you to know we're almost there. Time's funny here, and I'm pretty sure you've been gone a lot longer than you've been missing on our side, but Donnie's really close, I swear. He's testing the machine right now, but you've gotta hang on until we get there." He looked up. "Please, Leo."

Leo drew a shuddering breath. "I promise."

"Ninja promise?"

Despite himself, Leo smiled. "Ninja promise." He leaned forward and squeezed his brother with all the strength left in him. "I will never stop fighting until you guys bring me home."

"I know," Mikey said into Leo's chest. "That's what makes you my niichan." But something was wrong. Leo looked down at Mikey, and gasped. Mikey was fading. "I miss you so much, Leo. I love you, okay?"

"Love you too, otouto," Leo whispered. And his arms closed on nothing. Mikey was gone.

And Leo finally allowed himself to do what he hadn't done since that night his mind had shattered. He covered his face with his hands and quietly began to cry.

Michelangelo was left standing there, blinking in bemusement as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. He'd been released from the shadow's grasp, healed (again), scolded, hugged (by a different version of himself, which felt REALLY weird), instructed to look after Leo (which he was doing anyway), released, and then left standing there while his mind struggled to catch up with the sudden chain of events.

As the other version of himself barrelled into Leo, Michelangelo looked away, suddenly feeling awkward, and distracted himself by studying the massive rock hands that still dripped liquid shadow. I really need to figure out how to do that…

He tried not to pay too much attention to the conversation going on behind him - it felt like a family thing, and even though they were his brothers, they still weren't his brothers. Still, he couldn't help overhearing most of it.

Then there was silence, and Michelangelo glanced back just in time to see Leonardo cover his face, shoulders heaving.

Take care of my big brother…

Michelangelo was immediately moving, dropping to his knees by Leonardo's side and pulling him into a comforting hug, his one arm around the other turtle's shoulders and his hand rubbing soothing circles on Leonardo's shell. "It'll be all right… I'm here for you."

The other Mikey had been right — Michelangelo had a hard time letting anyone in now, and still didn't know if he'd ever be able to again. But this one thing, he could do. He could look after this Leo, and make sure he got back to his own family in one piece. So he knelt there, holding Leonardo close and giving as much comfort and reassurance and support as he possibly could.

For those first few moments, Leo hadn't felt so alone since he'd first fallen through the rift. But then, an arm came around him, a hand tracing circles on his shell. A gesture only his brothers ever used.

He turned into the other Michelangelo, his whispered words washing like a balm over Leo's ragged emotions, and he latched onto his older younger sibling, trembling in shock.

He didn't care that he was from an alternate reality. He didn't care that he was older. He didn't care that he hid behind walls and refused to let Leo in. He was a brother. He had almost died protecting Leo. As Leo had almost died protecting him. And right now, that was more than enough.

"I love you too, shin-niisan."

Michelangelo held his trembling brother close, his hand never stopping its soothing circles against Leo's shell. So much had happened in such a short time; he was a little in shock himself, still trying to digest it all. But that could wait; Leo needed him now.

At Leo's words, he dug through his memory, looking for the right words to reply with, from a language he'd long stopped using. Finally he found the words he was after, and he gently rubbed his cheek against his little big brother's head.

"… Appreciated, moto-niisan." And he hoped that those little words would be enough; that Leonardo would understand the meaning behind them that he couldn't bring himself to outright say.