Chapter Text
Twin
Adjective.
Definition one; forming, or being, one of a pair born at one birth.
Definition two; forming a matching, complementary or closely connected pair.
Definition three; growing in pairs.
The page was a bit smeared, water had washed away half of the dictionary's ink, and the darkness didn't help, but Donnie could read the entry just fine; he peered at it as a new word filtered into his vocabulary, Leo’s quiet, shallow breathing his only white noise.
He frowned, glancing behind him at the turtle curled against his shell, practically able to hear the heartbeat pounding in Leo’s chest keeping him from sleeping like the rest of their family. Leo’s eyes were wide, and in the low light the blues of the left eye had vanished, leaving behind a dark pool donnie couldn’t see properly. But Leo’s bright red right eye seems to reflect what little light there is, showing a pinprick pupil shaking ever so slightly.
Small hands twist his hoodie as Leo tries to hide in Donnie’s shell from whatever phantoms his mind had conjured.
He reaches over, letting Leo’s hand snap out and latch onto his, carefully tugging the other up. They have to shift, careful not to disturb the slumbering giant that was Raph on Donnie’s other side or the sleeping Mikey trapped in the snapper’s grip.
They end up with their legs tangled together in a somewhat crossed position, book laid out between their laps, backs pressed to Raph’s shell and Leo’s right side snug against a wall, Donnie tossing an arm over his scared other half.
They rest like that for a bit, as Leo’s heart slows and his breath deepens.
It’s become normal by then, at the tender age of freshly turned six, curling around each other to ward off the night terrors.
Leo’s hand had reached out for the book, pointing at the word Donnie had left off at. Leo didn't speak much back then, no matter what Dad did all he was ever met with were Leo’s distant, glazed over eyes. But Donnie never needed Leo to talk to know what he was saying, so he turned back to his book and whispered the words to Leo.
Leo had chirped quietly when he’d finished, some kind of throaty noise that barely made it to Donnie’s ears, whispers of whatconfusedquestionexsplainwhat .
“I think it’s our word, Bitsy,” Donnie had told Leo, nodding along at Leo’s rumble of familyuscomfortfamilyusyoume. “We’re a pair after all, right? We complement each other and we’re growing up together, so by two of three definitions we are twins”
“Twins,” Leo had whispered into the echoes of the sewers. It was a scratchy word, from under-practiced vowels and consonants, and he doesn't say anything else before he’s digging his beak into Donnie’s neck and trying to rest.
It was a word Donnie had pondered for a while, because of how well it fit him and Leo. They have the same eyes, if reversed, they share a birthday, they’re the same size where Raph’s so much bigger and Mikey's so much smaller, and Donnie of all people knows they share the family's smarts, even if Dad thinks Leo’s dumb.
Dad doesn’t call Leo dumb, of course, but Donnie can see it— how he’s trying to teach Leo the same words he tries to teach Mikey, no matter how many times Donnie tells him Leo already knows them. Dad calls Donnie clever and smart and a prodigy, and he knows what those words mean, so he calls Leo them too.
The smart ones have to stick together, after all.
Leo’s not smart like him— he can’t fix the TV, or the fridge— but he's smart in the way that gets Donnie out of trouble when the toaster ends up gutted, because Leo is smart enough to make it look like rats chewed up the toaster's side so Dad doesn't blame any of them.
He can’t get anyone else to see Leo’s smart, so he's stopped telling Dad that Leo already knows those words, stopped telling Raph that Leo already knew the rules of the game and only Mikey needed a refresher; he just tries to make sure at least someone in the family knows Leo’s smart, even if that someone's him.
Then Dad brings home a game; it’s called chess.
It’s a complicated game, and even Donnie struggles to keep the rules straight. Dad calls it a clever man’s game, so he doesn't think anyone will beat him at it. Maybe Dad and Leo can, but dad’s an adult so he doesn’t count, and Leo doesn't want to be smart during most games— never wants to be smart, really. He can be, Donnie’s seen it, but for a simple little game like this Leo was more likely to knock over his own king than try to win.
But for some reason, he does.
The quiet whisper of “checkmate” and Donnie’s left shocked, because Leo was smart but he didn't want to be smart, yet he’d won, so he’d wanted to be smart.
He had looked up at his twin, and in the fuzz of memory Leo’s bi-colored eyes shone with a new kind of brightness, and his Dad had a look of realization as if it just clicked how smart Leo actually was.
Of course he was smart, younger Donnie had thought, he’s my twin.
That thought is always somewhere in the back of Donnie’s mind, that of course Leo’s smart, he’s Donnie’s twin brother , even when his twin’s being stupid.
What all this means is Donnie knows Leo.
It’s a point of pride for him, that while he sucks at reading everyone else he can always tell what his twin is really saying. That doesn't change when Leo starts to talk and never seems to stop. Even as they grow, he can still tell when Leo’s going to wander into his room and they'll end up intertwined; no matter how much Leo tries to hide, Donnie will know his twin and his twin will, ever annoyingly, know him.
Because it’s always Leo who ends up in the lab when Donnie starts to get lonely, because it’s Leo who he ends up giving a space in his room, and it’s Leo who gives Donnie a space in his, and it’s Leo who listens and comprehends and it’s Leo whose heartbeats echo his own.
And it’s Donnie who tells Leo he’s smart and wanted and needed, and it’s Donnie who Leo relies on and it’s Leo who Donnie relies on, and it’s Leo whom he ends up tangled with when Leo’s heart beats too fast or Donnie’s mind goes by too quickly.
“Think it’s twin telepathy?” his twin had asked once, joking in his tone. “How well we know each other? Think if one of us got hurt the other would know? Feel it or whatever?”
“You’ve been reading too many sci-fi comics,” he’d told him.
“But our twin definition has ‘closely connected’ in it,” Leo had mumbled, shifting to settle his head under Donnie’s chin further, “maybe it'll be a gut feelin or somethin’, other half bein’ hurt…”
“Wrong type of connection,” had been Donnie’s tired mumble.
And yet, and ever yet , Donnie felt like he had been split in two.
It starts when Raphael tells him Leo’s still up there, that his twin is still fighting when Donnie’s too far away to help. It grows when Leo’s voice drifts out of the communicators, half hidden by the sounds of a fight, tells Casey to pull the key with Leo still inside. The feeling of something becoming torn within Donnie’s chest further grows as Leo begs, begs , for Casey to do what might as well be killing him.
As his twin, his other half, his matching pair, asks for his own death.
Something in Donnie breaks in that moment.
Because staring up at the sky as the remains of the kraang ship scatter, something in his chest tears and is ripped away— gone, just like his twin brother.
A connection abruptly severed.
It’s this horrid feeling, like a paper shredder or a rusty hatchet or a wild cat’s claws— and that feeling digs in right behind his sternum, and something, something he’s had ever since he learned what the word twin was, and like dragging a rabid dog it’s pulled from him, shattering on the concrete below.
Dozens of pieces scatter to the wind as half of a whole stands alone .
He can’t think as tears roll down his face, and he can’t help but shake his head when he sees the liquid on his fingers.
Because this wasn't possible, this wasn't a possibility, Leo couldn't be gone, not without Donnie, they were stuck to each other and that was final—
This wasn't real.
It couldn't be… he can’t feel this hollow , without his heart’s echo.
And he’s right.
Because Mikey— brilliant smart amazing talented Mikey— reaches out and gives them a chance, gives them the possibility of Leo back.
And when he sees him, when Leonardo’s smile, shaky and weak with a dull quip as its companion, greets him through that portal Mikey made, he feels like his chest is going to explode, every shattered piece of him ramming back into the hollowness at once.
And those once-shattered pieces burn when they see the thing that had taken his twin away for all that agonizing time.
They burn so harshly it feels like he's dying, an inferno of anger and near grief and hatred scorch his very being, and he doesn’t even think as his mystic energy responds, gathering so quickly and expertly it’s as if he’d had them his entire life.
Those fragments of grief and loss burn when the thing isn’t killed from his attack, but then smother to a worried flame when his twin speaks.
And it hurts, but he is so relieved when Leo is back in his arms, breathing and heartbeat echoing and so very alive .
And it’s Leo who doesn’t tell them he’s seriously injured until they’re all in a stolen van heading back home.
Well, technically Leo doesn't tell them anything— the sudden fainting spell as their idotic self-sacrificing brother ends up slumped over is what tells them.
“Oh— tha’s no good,” is what Leo tells them when he’s regained some minor level of consciousness and Donnie has him laid out, trying to figure out the extent of the damage.
“Tell me what’s broken.” He doesn't mean to snap, but Leo is the one who can assess damage without help, and Donnie doesn't exactly have the right supplies to pull off the same stunt.
“Righ’ side ‘round temple— fractures, ah’think, can't tell how’m’ny,” Leo slurs out, one peered open blue eye drifting to look at Donnie. “Sta’blize head, anythin’ stick’n out?”
“Skull fracture around the right temple got it, nothing’s sticking out and it looks uniform beyond the slight swelling and blood,” Donnie tells him. He feels like he shouldn't be pushing his twin to basically treat himself, but Leo’s always been the field medic, Donnie can take over from Leo’s notes once they get home but to keep him stable in the moment they need Leo’s knowledge. “April pass your jacket, I need to keep his head steady.”
“Mmh, pressa cloth ta stop bleedin’,” Leo hums out as Casey starts holding a cloth to the bleeding side of his head, a look on the kids face indicating it’s all but second nature. “Think my lung’s’pierced.”
“Ok, ok cloth’s on the head wound— your lung’s pierced ??” he resisted the urge to do a double take as his twin gives him a weak smile. “ Shit ok, nothing we can do about that until we get you back to the lair..”
“Ox’gen soon’s poss’ble,” Leo shares helpfully, “there’s som’.. bad ‘nternal bleed’n.”
“Oxygen as soon as possible, right got that, internal bleeding ? Leo how long until you bleed out?” It’s hard to keep the panic out of his tone, the longer Leo talks the more Donnie wonders how he seemed so fine just minutes ago. What a joke it would be, to get his twin back just to have him succumb to injuries.
“ ‘bout twenny,” Leo’s practically whispering now, and his eyes have gone hazy. “Yea twenny, don’ lemme sleep…”
“Twenty? Twenty minutes?” He glances sharply at April with panicked eyes, praying to all hope that they’re nearly to the lair.
“We’re five minutes out,” April tells him, cool relief pulsing through Donnie’s veins at the news.
“Ok we can do twenty minutes, stay awake for me Bitsy ok? You're right no sleeping, no sleeping, what else Bitsy, talk to me, what else can we do?” The nickname slips out without thought, and it almost seems to wake Leo up a bit, blue eye staring in his vague direction. “I don't got your notes right now Bitsy you gotta help me out here.”
“Brok’n ribs…” is all Leo says, staring at him with a glazed over eye.
“Right of course, that makes sense; that’s it? Nothing we can do? Hey, hey, no going to sleep, your orders Bitsy,” he orders his twin.
Leo doesn't seem to hear him, eye slipping shut.
It’s a terrifying few minutes, but the millisecond they arrive in the lair Donnie’s bursting out of the van.
“SHELLDON!” he screams into the void of the garage, heart beating way too fast as the AI answers his call. “Prep the medbay for invasive procedures with oxygen, Leo’s blood, and pull up all the notes Leo has on pierced lungs and internal bleeding!”
It’s a rush, getting his twin to the medbay. They have to be as careful as possible, but with every step Donnie can’t help but feel as if they’re doing something irreversible, like laying him out on the table to fix the pierced lung is going to be what finishes him off.
He finds himself thanking whatever gods above that Leo made sure his notes were so meticulous as he’s forced to drain the pooling blood and reinflate Leo’s lung. He tries not to think about how dead Leo looks.
…but in the end he’s breathing.
Donnie can’t help but find peace in how Leo’s breath fogs up the oxygen mask, the quiet beat of Leo’s heart pulsing right alongside Donnie’s.
He’s bloody, but he's alive . It's moments like this that have Donnie thanking their mutation for making it hard for them to get infected by anything, which would usually hold a higher risk for normal people.
He still needs to get in contact with Draxum, of all times for their other primary medic to be out of state— the yokai will know more about treating Leo than Donnie, but… the softshell had done enough for now, enough where Leo’s stabilized and not actively dying. At least, according to the slider’s notes, the state his twin’s in is stable.
Turns out Leo’s shell was cracked too, which was not a fun thing to discover amongst the blood.
Of all times to hide injuries, why did he choose the worst possible one ? Did he not know how bad it was at the time? Had the adrenaline made it hard for Leo to recognize what was wrong?
He pulls a chair up to the bedside, collapsing into it before reaching out and grabbing onto his unconscious twin's hand.
That broken, burnt, torn thing in his chest starts to mend itself back together again; Leo’s safe, his other half’s safe, his twin is safe.
“Shelldon, tell the family he’s ok and call Barry, tell him what happened.”
He rests his head next to Leo’s side, where Leo’s breathing and heartbeat is clearest, closing his eyes to try and chase away the burn within them.
…and blacks out.