Chapter Text
Several months have passed since the Krang crisis, but New York still has its share of troubles, big and small. The four brothers have just wrapped up a chaotic fight, finishing the mission clean and efficient.
Since the Krang crisis, Leo has grown noticeably more mature. His powers are steadier now, and he's starting to look like a real leader. He loves the extra care his family has been giving him, but every now and then guilt creeps in. After all, he's okay now, right?
He shakes his head, already picturing the damp, familiar smell of their sewer living room. His twin blades flash forward, slicing clean azure arcs through the air. The portal hums open—straight to their cozy sewer home, no mistakes this time. His teleportation is finally reliable.
"After you, gentlemen."
Donnie follows Raph through, casually kicking a downed enemy aside. Mikey hangs back on purpose—to praise Leo and to make sure he's safe. The youngest always shows his worry in the most obvious and subtle ways at the same time. Warmth blooms in Leo's chest.
"Perfect score!" Mikey cheers, throwing his arms up like an excited crowd. "That was awesome!"
"Of course it was, Mikey." Leo smirks, twirling one blade with a flourish before sheathing it. He steps through the portal beside his little brother.
The buzzing blue light fades behind them. All four land solidly in the middle of the living room. The air carries the comforting smell of pizza and cheese. Raph claps a big hand on Leo's shoulder.
"That was a long jump, but you got us home in one shot. You're getting scary good at this."
"Precision is a basic leader skill," Leo says lightly, stretching so Raph's hand slips off. Then, casual as ever: "Hey, haven't we been around this area before? Feels kinda... déjà vu."
He's had that feeling a lot lately. Way too much. Is it some new power awakening? Or... is something wrong with him? He can't tell. But it feels like there's a thin wall between him and his family. Like they're slowly turning into strangers.
Here it comes again. Hallucination, Leo. Just a hallucination.
"You seriously forgot?" Donnie raises one brow. He knows something's up—it's like he can read Leo's mind. Leo looks away, pretending not to notice, eyes landing on a painting on the wall. Probably one of Mikey's.
"Oh yeah! The hippo thing!" Mikey lights up. "When Leo and Donnie solved it while me and Raph were mentally linked!"
"That one," Raph nods. "Mikey was yelling super loud in our heads—thought it was the coolest thing ever. Then we passed out. Woke up and you two had already fixed it."
"Yeah! I barely got to enjoy it—it was so cool—"
"And I didn't get nearly enough of Leo's embarrassing secrets."
The laughter pulls Leo in; he laughs too. But the sound dies on his lips. His smile freezes. He tries to remember that mission... and nothing comes. The memory feels torn out. The harder he thinks, the sharper the pain behind his eyes. Static fills his head. Gray-white threads flicker across his vision like snow on an old TV screen.
Hippo? Mental link? Six months ago?
He's not sure he was ever there.
"Leo?" Mikey leans in, head tilted. "You didn't actually forget, did you? Donnie spilled that secret and you were mortified for three whole days."
"Four days, to be precise," Donnie corrects.
Leo stares blankly at his twin. Part of him wants to be mad that Donnie told, part of him just wants to know what even happened. His gaze drifts across the living room, down the hall—trying to take it all in.
Right. He needs to respond. Start with Mikey.
"No way!" Leo forces his usual carefree grin, then switches to mock offense when he realizes it doesn't fit. "I mean—Donnie—"
Drip. Drip. Drip. The kitchen faucet counts down like a heartbeat.
"I refuse," Donnie cuts him off smoothly, whatever Leo was about to say—insult, joke, fake hurt. He leans against the wall, eyes narrowed. Leo meets the stare head-on. He's not dodging it today.
His eyelid twitches. He hopes it doesn't make things awkward.
"You still act so confident even when you know you messed up?" Donnie's smile doesn't reach his eyes.
"Won't you forgive me?" Leo shoots back, voice rising before he can stop it. He glances quickly at Raph and Mikey—they don't seem to notice.
Good. That's Leo enough, right? At least Mikey forgave me... right?
Mikey frowns and shakes his head.
"Hey... right?" Leo exhales. Topic diverted. Perfect.
Donnie still looks suspicious, but he nods slowly, like he's choosing peace over belief. His stare feels like it could cut Leo open.
Leo sighs. His proud posture slumps just a little. In his head, he surrenders to Donnie. He wanted attention, not worry. If he told them the truth, what little self-esteem he has left after the Krang would shatter completely.
Anyway, he'll be fine, right...?
——————
The sewers have no day or night, but thanks to Leo's decorations, his bedroom—once Donatello's—feels unusually warm and inviting. The same goes for the others'. Action figures, posters, bright and wild colors—they always find ways to make this underground world fun. But tonight, none of it comforts Leo. He scans the familiar objects, searching for some sense of peace. His eyes land on a Jupiter Jim figure by the bed.
A sudden question mark pops into his head.
How did I even get this?
Leo flinches like he's been shocked, jerking his hand back. His gaze shifts—and lands on one of Mikey's paintings on the wall.
When was this painted...?
Cold dread crawls down his spine. He slides down the wall until he's sitting on the cold floor. Breathe. Calm down. Remember something.
Anything.
The clearest recent memory?
Krang.
Krang didn't break any bones or leave scars, but the impact was undeniable. Leo thinks it's almost funny to call it trauma—but yes, damage. Krang hurt him. Even if Mikey, Donnie, and especially Raph are the ones who deserve to feel that way more. After all, Leo made so many mistakes. He deserved it.
He deserved it.
Leo curls in on himself, forehead pressed to his knees, hands clutching his aching chest. The image is still fresh: that pink, brain-like mass, sticky and twisted, face warped in its folds. Dust-covered tentacles whipping through the air, smashing his plastron. Burrowing into his body, slipping between muscle and shell. He wanted to scream. He felt Krang spreading inside him.
But he couldn't do anything.
His chest tightens again, as if those sticky tentacles never left and are now coiling tighter.
No. It's not real, Leo. It's not real.
The cold floor grounds him. He's shaking, gasping, cold sweat sliding down like tears.
He scrambles up and lunges for the bedside table, knocking the Jupiter Jim figure to the floor. Plastic cracks and scatters. He doesn't look. He tears through drawers and shelves—mess everywhere—but finds no notebook, nothing usable.
Damn it. Should've listened to Donnie. Keeping notes actually helps.
Leo hauls himself up, leg buckling as he stands, banging into the table again. He rubs the new ache in his calf and wonders how to get a notebook.
Borrow one from Mikey? The idea makes his throat tighten. His little brother is an artist—he must have tons of blank sketchbooks. But what excuse? "Hey Mikey, I'm starting a battle journal"? Terrible.
Still, compared to asking Raph for comfort or Donnie for help, borrowing a notebook feels harmless.
Tomorrow, Leo decides. Too late tonight. Wouldn't want to wake Mikey. Though with his memory these days, he might not even remember the plan by morning.
But fate loves its jokes. Just as Leo is about to sleep, there's a knock.
"Leo? It's me!" Mikey's voice is soft but urgent. The knocks grow faster. Well, he's not worried about waking anyone, Leo thinks with a tired smile. He wipes the cold sweat away, opens the door, and looks down at his little brother.
"What's up, Mikey?" Leo asks gently. He's always had extra patience for his youngest brother—especially now that he's trying to be more mature. Mikey doesn't cling like he used to, but he and Leo are still closest. Leo never talks down to him like a "big brother." He doesn't brush off Mikey's feelings like Raph sometimes does, or ignore Mikey completely like Donnie.
"I think something's... off with you." Mikey hides the notebook behind his back and traces circles on the floor with one foot.
Leo's heart stutters. Chill races through him. But his face stays easy, teasing. "Off? I'm not the one patrolling outside my brother's door at night."
Mikey laughs—just for a second. Then he shakes it off, refusing to be distracted.
Little brother grew up. Harder to fool now.
Mikey keeps the notebook hidden, gripping it tighter. His clear eyes stay locked on Leo under the orange mask.
"It's not patrolling. I... had a nightmare."
His voice is barely above a whisper, like a feather brushing water. "You were standing in thick fog. Couldn't see, hear, or feel anything. When I woke up, I just needed to check on you."
Leo has no words. All his practiced lines fail him. Mikey is too sharp—the most gifted of them all. Nothing gets past him.
You can't even lie to your little brother anymore. Leo's smile turns bitter.
Mikey waits. When Leo stays silent, he stops circling his foot.
"Then I heard noises in your room."
His gaze slips past Leo to the bedroom. It's colorful and messy in that charming Mikey way—except for the corner Leo just destroyed. That's pure chaos.
Leo's body tenses. He shifts sideways, blocking the view with an exaggerated flourish. "Haha, just looking for something. Got a little carried away."
Not a lie, he tells himself. He really was rushing.
Mikey's expression sours. He hates being brushed off. Those clear eyes demand the truth without a word.
"...Fine. You really want to know?" Leo looks away.
Mikey doesn't move, but the answer is yes.
Leo takes a deep breath, channeling calm vulnerability—like he's auditioning for an award. "Okay... I've been having nightmares too, lately."
He pretends to be embarrassed (or maybe he really is—Mikey makes lying harder). "Uh... I keep dreaming about Krang. Gets me jumpy."
He gestures at the mess by the bed with a forced bitter smile. "That's what happens when I get nervous."
"..."
Mikey doesn't laugh or get mad. His bright eyes dim with fragile hesitation. He stares at Leo's shaking fingers and steps closer.
"But... when you have nightmares, you don't smash things. You just curl up and go quiet."
Mikey remembers. Back when they were tiny, all sharing one bed, Leo slept silently—almost pitifully so. If something upset him during the day, he'd curl into a tight ball.
The air stills. Mikey's last words are a sigh:
"Leo... let me stay with you. Please?"
"..."
Leo surrenders. Maybe he can't say no to those eyes. Maybe he's just too fragile tonight.
"Just for a bit, okay?" He sighs and steps aside.
"No way." Mikey slips in, lifts the covers, and slides into bed like it's his own. He tucks the notebook under the pillow, smiles softly, and settles in. "The emotional guru is staying until you're better."
"You little..." Leo huffs a laugh and sits beside him. His fingers tremble on the blanket until Mikey takes his hand. Leo blinks, surprised. Mikey just smiles—gentle and a little sad.
"Sleep time!" Mikey notices the staring and yanks Leo down like Leo always does to him. They both giggle, tumbling under the covers.
"Hey, Mikey..."
"Mm?"
Mikey peeks out. They're close enough to see each other's eyelids tremble. Mikey sighs, retreats into his shell, rolls closer, then pops out. They shift until they're curled together—arms around each other.
"What if... I forget a lot of things? What would you do?"
"Mm..." Mikey pauses. Leo instantly regrets asking. Great, more trouble for his brother.
But Mikey hugs tighter, impossible to ignore. His eyes are steady, taking in the broken figure and crooked painting.
"Then I'll hold you just like this," Mikey says, "and we'll face it together."