Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Leo was very young, he cried when he was ill.

Not every time and not for the whole duration, but there was usually a breaking point where after he'd been down with a fever for a few days, trapped in bed and hurting and miserable and all the barriers and all of the fronts were worn down, and he would cry. And cry and cry and cry and until dehydration was a real threat and Splinter was crouched beside him begging to consume a liquid.

Leo didn't remember much of the occasions from the four or five times over his lifespan. There was a swim and sway when he thought about it, like it was a dream that happened to someone else. Something about how vulnerable being sick made him, it wore down and snapped the control he had, leaving something soft and needy and honestly? He hated it.

Being maybe six or seven, wrapped up in a sweaty blanket. His body too-hot, his mind sparking sludge, every nerve ending sore, pain shooting from his brain cooking in his skull. It was just all so overwhelming and scary and the fever had given him hellish nightmares of being lost and alone and running from invisible enemies.

Around that point the crying started and it lasted for hours. He couldn't put together the details, just Splinter's hand holding his head and wiping his face and forehead with a cool cloth, whispering over and over. It's okay. Just breathe. Daddy's got you. Don't cry, sweet blue. It's going to be alright.

The words all blended together, in a soup of feverish memory. Splinter was used to his eventual breakdown and weathered it with a solemn, heartbroken expression, holding him until the tears stopped. Which was only when his little body had none left to produce, dry sobbing and miserable with it.

Leo never liked to think about that. He never liked being sick, period. Call it a symptom of being team medic, that he wanted to take care of others but not even leave himself vulnerable to be on the other side. Plus, what use was a medic who was sick themselves?

So he pretended that illness did not touch his perfect body. Any cold was brushed off as allergies, any fever swiftly dosed with Dayquil until he could be functional again. The key was to avoid getting so sick and so miserable that he was trapped in bed and scared and small and --

It was almost a year after the invasion when Casey caught a bug and gave it to Leo.

Well, gave it to Sensei probably. As soon as his kid was sick, Sensei was there and taking care of him. Leo didn't mind, of course. Happy to play back seat medic, watching for signs of bronchitis or pneumonia with Casey's incredible hacking cough and high fever. There weren't as many humans around in the future, so his immune system hadn't needed to stretch as much as living in big old New York City.

The downside was that less than a week later Leo had that same cough and a blistering headache expanding like a hot balloon in his already crowded brain.

'Well this isn't ideal.' Sensei commented, when they had to stop to cough for a full minute.

'We're not sick.' Leo insisted, because he didn't want to be sick. He hated being sick.

'Absolutely not sick in the slightest.' Sensei agreed, mostly amused. He took the front to feel their own forehead and it didn't feel like anything. 'Damn, I can't tell. Let's get a thermometer.'

'Nah.' Leo brushed off.

'Denying that we're sick won't make us less sick.' Sensei pointed out.

'We're literally fine. Could a not-fine person do this?' Then jumped forward into a handstand, walking on his palms, metal then flesh then metal against the floor.

Everything spun but they didn't fall over. Leo flipped back onto their feet and gave Sensei a triumphant smirk.

'Point conceded.' Sensei said, but then added, 'For now.'

They were fine. For now. Leo muffled the cough and took an extra cold shower, swallowing some Dayquil. Then there were some shenanigans involving Hypno and that weird worm, which took up most of Leo's energy. Despite the fact that he typically fronted during most missions ever since he was allowed back in the field again, Leo ended up giving it to Sensei about halfway through because he was finding it stupidly hard to focus.

"You guys okay?" Raph asked, on the drive back home in the tank.

Sensei was reclined in their chair, resting his chin on his flesh hand, trying to breath slow enough that it didn't invoke any coughs. He was staring out the window and didn't move his gaze when he asked, digging his own grave, "Should we not be okay?"

"Leo dipped like halfway through the mission without a word." Raph pointed out.

"He's still here." Sensei defended, a little weak. He was well aware that Leo didn't want anyone to know they were sick and didn't want to go against his wishes. But also they felt terrible. Like, body aches, brain giving a great oven impression, and coughing was starting to no longer be an option.

"Leon tripped over a curb, which while hilarious, seems a little uncoordinated even for him." Donnie chimed in, the too-observant thorn in their side.

'Tell him something witty.' Leo provided, too drained to even do it himself. That was why he had Sensei, after all.

"Leo says he was just making sure you were paying attention." Sensei replied, trying not to sound as sluggish as he felt.

"Hm." Donnie said, audibly suspicious.

"I don't mind you Sensei, of course, but Leo loves running the show." Mikey chimed in, confused. "Usually we just get random contributions that I know are Sensei because his voice is like, you know. But Leo's never given up the reigns totally during a mission, especially not mid-way through. You've got to admit it's weird."

"I admit nothing." Sensei replied, then waved his hand in front of himself like a Jedi. "This is not the Leo you're looking for."

"Sensei." Raph said, trying to sound stern.

"Raphael." Sensei said, and put his legs up on the dashboard, leaning back into the chair and feeling the painful stabbing in his lower back. Kidneys. He should drink more water before Leo took the front back. "Unfortunately, I've got to share a body with the guy, so I'm not about to sell him out. Try again later."

"So there's something to be selling him out for." Donnie snapped his finger and pointed it directly at him.

Sensei shrugged, swallowing against his spasming throat that was begging him to cough. He looked back out the windshield. They were almost home, anyway.

Their body hated every step back into the lair. Sensei stood in the bathroom and had a very long argument with Leo about whether or not they were going take Dayquil or Nyquil.

'We've got to go back out there and pretend we're okay.' Leo insisted.

'No, we've got to take these drugs and go the fuck to sleep so we can get better.' Sensei rebuked.

'You know we hate being sick.' Leo snapped back. 'You don't want to tell them either.'

'Not particularly.' Sensei waved the Nyquil in front of their face. 'But unfortunately for you, my kid is sick and I want to take care of him. And that means taking care of myself because of body sharing fuckery.'

'This situation occasionally sucks ass.' Leo commented. 'I want a refund.'

'Boo hoo.' Sensei replied, unsympathetic. 'Take the damn Nyquil and go to bed. We're sharing this meat sack and I want to sleep. Sleeeep.'

'But they'll know.' Leo complained, with a whine. 'I don't want to be sick, I spent like two months in bed healing from the invasion I don't ever want to be babied again.'

'It's not being babied, you baby.' Sensei waggled the Nyquil with more feeling. 'How about this? We take the Nyquil and we go take a nap.'

'Why are you phrasing that like it's somehow a different offer than what you just said?' Leo lowered them to sit on the closed toilet lid, legs tired of standing.

'Because I'm hoping you'll just smarten up and agree with me. Cut me some slack, I'm literally running on the same feverish brain as you right now.' Sensei replied, exhausted.

'Smarten up? Who do you think I am?'

'You are an intelligent and brave young man who is going to take this fucking Nyquil so I can have a nap.' Sensei said, then added as an afterthought. 'Please.'

'Heard, chef.' Leo caved, and popped the blister package to get two Nyquil in his mouth before he drank directly from the tap. 'Don't even know why you're so worried. It's just a little eensy weensy fever. We're totally fine.'

'Leonardo, I swear.' Sensei warned, feeling his intention.

Stepping out of the bathroom and into the hallway, Leo proclaimed to his headmate, 'Could a not-fine person do this?' and tried to do a handstand. He immediately fell on his ass, tumbling sore head over heels.

'For fuck's sake.' Sensei sighed, as Leo filled the hallway with the sound of his sparkling hysterical laughter.

The loud crash predictably summoned Raph. His footsteps were heavy and quick, though the urgency left when the laughter started up. He stood over Leo, hands on his hips, and said, "Did you break anything?"

Leo hiccupped with laughter, looking up at his big brother and said, "Only my dignity."

"When'd you get that?"

Leo laughed again, not quite catching his breath. This was his downfall, as finally began to cough.

Raph's expression cleared into understanding, and he dropped to a crouch. He said, "Ah. You're sick."

"I'm not sick." Leo immediately and reflexively protested. Then sighed. "Unrelated but we just took Nyquil and we're gonna go to bed."

"That sounds like a good plan." Raph reached out and folded his big hand over Leo's forehead. He immediately sucked a breath in through his teeth and said, "Dude."

"I know, I know." Leo sunk away from the touch in shame. "I think we must've caught what Casey had last week. It's chill. We're totally fine. Ignore that I'm on the floor."

"Do you want a hand?" Raph offered.

"Got one right here." Leo said, rolling onto his side and taking his arm off for the bit, offering out the prosthetic to his brother. He was proud that he'd worked on the moment of disconnection enough that it was a viable joke and not a trigger.

Especially for how it wiped any worry off Raph's chasm and changed it to exasperation. "Hardy har. I'll take that."

Raph took the arm and Leo got up without assistance, giving a one-handed salute and heading for his bedroom. Raph trailed behind, placing down his arm and silently helping get his room set up for a nap. Fan on. Blue light. Extra blanket.

"I'm fine, Raph." Leo insisted, shooing him. "Look, I'll just sleep it off and it'll be gone before you know it. You won't even know I was sick."

Raph's expression said that he knew exactly how much Leo didn't like to be sick. He said, "Alright. Get some rest."

Leo physically pushed him out of his room, shutting the door and climbing into his wonderful bed. So beautifully horizontal. His mind buzzed for about seven minutes then the Nyquil kicked in and obliterated his existence.

The sleep was thick and he woke coughing a few times, disorientated and too tired to stay awake once he'd hacked his lungs out.

When he woke to a hand on his forehead, he was honestly surprised they'd managed to leave him alone as long as they did. And they sent to only person he wouldn't turn away, the assholes.

"Hello my sweet baby blue." Splinter said, smoothing his fingers on Leo's temple.

"Fancy seeing you here, Pops." Leo rasped, the cough hell on his vocal cords. He tried and failed to clear his throat.

"Sit up a little." Splinter coaxed. "I've brought tea."

"Mmkay." That sounded good. Leo struggled up on his one elbow, Splinter helping the pillow behind his back and handing over the steaming mug. It was double relief, the warmth on his aching trachea and chest, and the soothe of his thirst. "You're the best, Dad."

Splinter merely hummed, sitting with him while he drank the tea. Then they took his temperature and dosed some more medication when his fever was still simmering, despite the fairly recent Nyquil. Leo kept a reassuring smile on his face for the whole interaction, laying back down and shutting his eyes once he'd made his dad happy. And only once the door shut behind him did the smile melt away.

'How we doing?' Sensei asked, groggy.

'Out of ten?' Leo said. 'Like. I dunno. Three. I've been worse. Can't say I'm having fun though.'

'Do you want me to take over for a bit?' Sensei offered.

'Well, I sure as hell won't say no.' Leo stepped away and sunk into the comfy abyss that did not have the ache of fever. While Sensei stepped forward and physically winced.

'Oh, this sucks.' Sensei pulled the blanket over their head, trying to keep the warmth in, because it felt like they were trying to shiver. 'We just took more meds, right?'

'Yeah, they'll kick in soon.' Leo sighed. 'I hate this, for the record.'

'Sit back and stop whining, I'll suffer for a bit.' Sensei replied, and lived in the hot feverish bubble for a while. Skin too sensitive, legs rubbing together in a restless friction, sore and achy and swallowing coughs. He finally felt Leo settle, his quiet anxiety over the situation making it hard to relax, and they dozed a little more.

Sensei slit his eyes open again when he heard arguing outside their door. He felt boiling, a thousand degrees, slick with sweat and feeling his pulse through his entire body. Hm.

 "... you know he hates it."

"Yeah, yeah, but I hate it more. Twin privileges. He won't kick me out."

"Uh, he absolutely will." Raph replied, pointed. "I'm fairly sure he wouldn't have even said anything if we didn't have Sensei. We should be lucky he's willingly in bed right now and not running around pretending he's okay."

Donnie huffed. "It won't hurt him to have someone hanging out."

"I want to be there too, but come on. We both know -- "

"We both know he wouldn't ask for help even if he needed it." Donnie spoke over him, then stalked away, footsteps quick. A last second addition, like it was thrown over his shoulder, bitter and sharp, "I'm sorry for interrupting you."

The hallway was silent for a second, then Raph sighed, alone. Then was a settling shuffle, and then a light thunk against the wall.

Sensei could just picture the turtle settling down in the hallway, not wanting to intrude but not wanting to go far. It was equally touching and painful. If he had even a bit of energy, he might've done something about it.

But he was a little delirious with fever and shut his eyes comforted with the knowledge that his big brother was standing guard.

The smear of time with spotty sleep was broken by a deep, painful coughing fit. Unfortunately for them, the muscles used for coughing were also used for vomiting. Sensei managed to grab their garbage, but thudded hard onto the floor in order to reach it.

"Urgh, fun." Sensei said, the room spinning at the lack of air, curled around the bin.

A gentle knock on the door. Raph said, "Alright?"

Raph was still out there, even though it must've been hours. Ouch. That hurt more than his aching ribs.

"Might as well come in." Sensei called back, voice gravelly as hell, swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

Raph's big figure silhouetted in the door, light of the hallway beaming in behind him.

"Ignore that I'm on the floor again." Sensei said.

"Who've I got?" Raph shut the door behind him, turning on the beside lamp and crouching. The light illuminated the chasm of worry between his brows.

"The handsome one." Sensei replied, a bit more delirious than he'd care to admit. He flashed Raph a winning smile. It was wrecked when he started to cough again, curling around the trash bin pre-emptively, feeling the way his stomach lurched up his esophagus. A tickle of bile strung from his lips. Disgusting.

Raph rubbed a hand on his shell as he dry heaved. He felt the strain through his whole body, even his eyes, like a blood vessel burst. Urgh.

"Oh, lucky little bastard's missing all the fun." Sensei complained, feeling his stomach flip-flop uncomfortably.

"Ah, Sensei then." Raph said.

"That's what I said." Sensei replied.

Raph rolled his eyes, but there was zero heat. Only painted concern. He said, "Can I take your temperature?"

Sensei reached up onto the bedside table and put the thermometer in his mouth. It was very high. He said, "I don't know what time Dad gave us meds last, can you check with him?"

"Of course. Need anything else?" Raph asked.

"A better bucket."

Raph nodded seriously, leaving him alone. Sensei stayed on the floor, absolutely wracked with shivers. He couldn't even really feel Leo, so hopefully he didn't mind that he caved and let their brother in. Well, he'd definitely mind, but the fever was cooking his brain so much they didn't have any fight left anyway.

Raph came with a bucket and Mikey. He took the trash can to clean it up and left the bucket and Mikey there.

"Sensei!" Mikey joined him on the floor and going for a hug immediately.

"Hi big man." Sensei tucked the smaller turtle under his chin, feeling the warmth spread through his trembling form.

"Is Leo okay?" Mikey asked, muffled into their sleep-shirt.

"Oh yeah, he's living it up back there." Sensei snorted, feeling how his body was swaying with the force of his miserable existence. "He's left me to do the worse parts, as per usual."

Mikey shuddered a breath and squeezed.

Sensei held him for a minute, then had to entangle because he was coughing again. He said once he could breathe again, "You're gonna get sick too, Mikes."

"I was already with Casey too, if I'm doomed then I'm doomed." Mikey shrugged, picking nervously at his wrist guards. "Can I hang out?"

"I don't mind." Sensei said, even though he minded a little. "But maybe scamper if Leo switches back in."

"Okay." Mikey agreed. "Do you wanna get back in bed? You're shivering like crazy."

The floor was nice, in feverish logic. But he humoured Mikey, climbing back underneath the blankets. Mikey settled beside him, overtop the blankets and putting on some videos on his phone that Sensei could barely comprehend. Mostly he rolled like a hot dog, unable to get comfortable. Every second felt like an hour. He hated that he looked to their light-blue alarm clock and only ten minutes had passed.

Raph came back and reported that they were not due for more medicine, and promised that he'd wake Sensei when it was time. That wasn't necessary, because he couldn't get back to sleep between the coughing and the roaring fever.

Raph stayed, sitting with his shell against the bed. When it was finally time to take more meds, Sensei only lasted about ten minutes before he coughed so much he threw it up again. Then Sensei had a dazed discussion on whether or not it would be safe to redose, and couldn't come up with a coherent answer.

Things got pretty blurry from there. The coughing was relentless, until his ribs felt genuinely punched. Mikey stayed close, getting a cold cloth and cleaning his face and telling him stories that all ran together. Raph replaced the puke bucket, even when it was mostly watery bile, and otherwise sat sentinel at the side of the bed.

Splinter came back and they tried to take meds again. This time it stayed down and Sensei crashed to sleep, only waking occasionally to cough and finding Splinter there alone, holding his hand.

"Hiya Pops." Sensei rasped, trying to squeeze back.

"Hi my blue." Splinter replied. "How are you doing?"

There was a pattern on the ceiling that was moving, like an optical illusion. Spotty and deep red, flashing. It was distracting and probably a hallucination. He didn't want to see where it was going to go. He was getting a chilled fear trickling down his spine, from the helpless feeling that being trapped and sick and vulnerable. He was over thirty years from being a kid crying to his dad, yet that kid was still inside him -- in more ways than one.

"Mmm." Sensei said, instead of replying any of that, shutting his burning eyes. The strange thing followed him, imprinted on the back of his eyelids. All the air in his lungs felt too hot.

"Is little blue back yet?" Splinter asked, smoothing his thumb over Sensei's.

"Hiding." Sensei replied, around his clumsy tongue. "Doesn't like this."

"I'm sure you do not either."

"Not my idea of a good time, no. But I can cope. I ran a resistance--"

"I'm sure you did a fantastic job, my son. But at the moment you are in the body of a seventeen year old and you have not stopped coughing for hours."

"Hah." Sensei gave a weird smile, not opening his eyes, just enjoying the gentle hand holding his. His whole body shivered. It was like he had the whole weight of the universe on his chest. He never wanted his dad to let go. He felt about seventeen, really. It wasn't a great feeling.

More time passed. Splinter stayed with him, rubbing his shell when he coughed, singing his lullaby. Sensei braved the front with the same grit teeth determination that carried him through tedium and pain over the years. Even with the meds, the fever roared, and his sense of time and place shifted dramatically.

And his level of understanding. Because Sensei opened his eyes after an incalculable amount of time and found his twin sitting there. But it wasn't his twin. But it was. Donatello, saying something in a monotone cadence. Fingers on his pulse.

But Sensei's twin was dead. No, he couldn't be dead, because if Donnie was dead then he would be too. There was no him without Donnie. So he must be alive. This must be Donnie, his Donnie, right?

'Oh, buddy.' Leo's voice finally rejoined, sounding devastated. 'Step back a sec, okay?'

'He's so young.' Sensei replied, almost nonsensical.

'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left this all for you.' Leo gently guided him away from the front, wincing immediately at the hot burn of fever and the crawling cough that immediately wracked their form the moment Leo had control without Sensei biting it back.

'I don't know what's going on anymore.' Sensei said.

'Don't worry about it.' Leo assured him, pressing the heel of his palm hard into his sternum like it might make it easier to breathe. 'I've got it now.'

'I'm supposed to protect you.' Sensei said, confused.

'No. We protect each other.' Leo told him. 'Thanks for the hand. I'll suffer from here.'

'I don't want you to suffer.'

'And I don't want you too either. Rest, you big lug.'

"Hey."

There was a touch on his cheek. Leo blinked rapidly, feeling the settle of everything, all the pain and aching and heat and fever that Sensei had so gracefully endured for him. The middle-distance stare resolved into the face of his better half. He said, tangling around the meat of his tongue, "Hi."

"Did you guys switch?" Donnie said, pinch between his brow.

"Loudmouth." Leo said.

The pinch only grew deeper. It was low-lit, just the soft lamp beside them in the too-hot bedroom. There was zero sense of time passed, a carved out feeling in his ribs and the damaged soft tissue of his lungs. The overwhelm of temperature had moisture built up in the corners of his burning eyes, mouth intolerably dry, body twitching with the force of his immune system trying to kill whatever was trying it's best to fuck him up.

Donnie was visibly at a loss, and finally admitted defeat, asking, "What?"

Leo thought it was obvious. He tapped the 'L' to his mouth, giving a hysterical little giggle. It was a good thing he'd lost his right arm, or else his L would've been backwards. He repeated out loud, "Loudmouth."

"You're delirious." Donnie said, slowly, sitting back from the bed. "Do you want me to leave if you're back now?"

"Hah, you don't have to stay." Leo coughed again, and then pinched something painful from the force of leaning over to hack.

"The phrasing of that sentence suggests that you may want me to stay. And I only offer to leave because I know that you do not enjoy an audience when you are sick." Donnie reported, tightly. "So I will ask again, do you want me to leave?"

Leo didn't know the answer to that question. He never wanted Donnie to leave his sight, preferably, but he was also well aware that he was going to say something fucking stupid because he got needy and vulnerable while sick and that was exactly why he wanted to curl up alone to lick his wounds and pretend to everyone else that nothing was wrong.

Instead of answering, he deflected, "I'm awake now, so I'm sure you'd rather the quiet."

Donnie's eyes narrowed. "I'm not following your train of thought, can you explain it to me?"

"What's to explain?" Leo grinned at him, all his teeth, even as they chattered with shivers. Why did he feel cold even as his skin sung so hot? His mouth just kept going, proving his fucking point. "I know nobody would willingly wanna hang out with the loudmouth, I can't shut up even when I'm sick."

"Okay, who said that to you?" Donnie said, and Leo didn't get why his expression was so dire.

"Psh." Leo stretched his grin to painful limits. "You did, of course."

Donnie's whole figure stilled like he'd been shot, even one of his hands reaching up to clutch his heart. "What?"

"Why are you surprised?" Leo felt the humour bubbling like acid in his belly. It was all so funny. That was the emotion he was feeling, right? "Literally you make fun of me like, as a recreational hobby."

"That's -- that's different." Donnie shook his head rapidly. "Back up a minute. What did I say to you that is apparently embedded in your mind?"

"Loudmouth." Leo said, insistent, and tapped the 'L' his lips again, babbling a little with the heat in his brain. "Come on, D, you can't deny it. We were picking out our name signs and you said, L to mouth. Loudmouth. I remember. I remember it every time I do the sign."

Donnie stared at him in horror. "But you know that was a joke."

"Duh." Leo said, because he knew that.

"No, no." Donnie held up a hand, stopping him immediately. "Of course. Of course you took that personally, because it was your name sign and I'm such a fucking idiot."

Leo felt sharp prickles of discontent and defended hotly, "How dare you talk about my twin that way, he's the smartest person alive."

Donnie's whole expression twisted up. "Obviously I'm not if my brother can go years without me noticing and fucking correcting him."

"Correcting?" Leo laughed, the bubble of it popping painful and hard. "What's there to correct? You're the brain."

Here he signed, fumbling the 'D' against his temple. "Smartest person alive, like I said. And Raph's the brawn."

'R' against his missing bicep, continuing, "Protector, strong, etc, etc. You've met him, you get it. And Mikey's the heart, our whole heart."

'M' against his chest. "All the compassion in his pinky toe, thing, whatever. And then me. I'm the damn loudmouth. L. Mouth. Isn't that what you think every single time you see that sign?"

Donnie stared at him like the world was ending. He opened his mouth, face drained, and stammer, "No, I--I've never thought that. I think -- "

"You did think that." Leo pointed out, to be a shit bag, with a smile. "Like, I was there, dude. I remember. I remember really well, even if you don't. Shit. I'm sorry. Sorry, I interrupted you. Damn it. Damn it."

"It's -- don't. Don't. I'm sure I said it." Donnie said, shaking his head. "Because I was being shitty and not thinking about how you take everything inside you and let it fester until it kills you. That I shouldn't have made such a comment about something as important as your name, something you'd see all the time, and have a memory of someone you trusted hurting you like that."

"It's not that deep, D." Leo assured him, and had to turn away to cough miserably in his elbow for a minute. The room spun with the effort, and he tried to remember where he was going with his statement. "You were just a kid."

"So were you." Donnie exhaled, forcefully slow, hands clenching and unclenching in his lap. "Leon, I am so sorry."

Leo squirmed uncomfortably. Why did hearing something he'd wanted for years feel so gross? Like he'd manipulated him into it. That the pain he'd carried wasn't actually real, so acknowledging it was just weird. "You don't apologize for things that aren't your fault. And me taking a stupid comment personally when we give each other literal slurs like ten times a day otherwise is pretty firmly in the realm of my fault."

"Actually, that is my fault." Donnie snapped back, then covered his face with his hand and looked away. "You're being stupid about this because you've got literally no self-esteem. And the only reason I'm actually hearing any of it is because you could fry an egg on your forehead."

"Your bigass forehead would be a better surface area." Leo managed back.

"Nope, you don't get to deflect on this, I'm not letting you go another minute without knowing the truth." Donnie reached out and held Leo's chin, giving him that fierce stare that can and would level cities.

Despite himself, Leo's stomach sunk at the idea of the truth. "Ah, you're finally going to take me out back and shoot me."

"I'm going to tell you what I think every time I see your name sign." Donnie replied, radiating murder despite his words. "Ready?"

"I'd rather you killed me, actually." Leo rasped.

The flash of Donnie's face was dangerous and Leo's mouth audibly clicked shut.

"You said, I'd rather if you were quiet. You couldn't be more wrong. I've had quiet Leo and it gutted me to my core. Pass, no thanks. And you think, because of a shitty and careless comment I made, that when I see your name sign that I think 'loudmouth'. But I don't." Donnie took a big breath and it trembled going in. "I think -- goodness, Leo, I think about your smile."

All the defences faltered. He repeated, unsteady, "M-my smile?"

"I think L for Leo, against your mouth because of your smile. I see your name sign and I think of your smile and it makes me happy. And because if I spend ten minutes with you, I know I am going to smile against my will at least once." Donnie told him, tone final, no arguments.

"That's --" Leo tried to argue anyway.

"Shut up." Donnie said.

They were even for interruptions. Leo looked away, shaking off Donnie's hold. He thought about his stupid mantra about never telling his brothers what hurt him or else it made things worse, and how he'd learned the hard way that sometimes it made it so they could fix it instead.

Donnie wanted to fix it. That shouldn't have been surprising, because Donnie always wanted to fix things. Leo just hadn't considered himself something worth fixing.

The fever made this all way too hard.

“I’m sorry I ruined something that should’ve been good for you.” Donnie said, more quietly, turning his hands over. Stimming by twisting them together in painful configurations. “It's my fault, and I'm sorry. I wish you could feel what I do when I see your name sign. I get excited, I think, that’s my twin. L for my Leo, pressed against a smile. The real one, when your eyes crinkle. That one.”

Leo was going to choke on this, actually. He couldn’t breathe and it wasn’t just the painful cough.

“It hurts to think that you have spent years hating something about you that I love.” Donnie sighed, rubbing his face hard, then turning to give Leo a painfully open and honest look.

“Why?” Leo rasped, eventually, unable to articulate better. Why would he ever—? “I’m just— I don’t. I’m not. I’m not what you — I’m not. I’m not any of that.”

Sadness coated over, and Donnie shuffled out of the chair to join Leo on his bed. He very firmly and without question gave him a hug. Tight and insistent.

Reflexively, Leo hugged back. Too hot skin against his much cooler, trembling with the effort not to cough, but never one to turn down a spontaneous Donnie hug. This was all so precarious, the terrible feeling of fever and the even worse emotional vulnerability. Like he was sitting on the edge of a cliff. Or a train track—

Then Donnie gave him a painful squeeze and whispered in his ear, “Why don’t you love you like I love you?”

The dam broke. And Leo began to cry.

"Ah, there it is." Donnie sighed, rubbing his shell with a steady hand.

"No, I don't want to do this." Leo hiccupped immediately, the tears rushing hard and fast and overwhelming. "No, no, make it stop."

"Too late." Donnie hummed.

"You -- you shouldn't have to do this. We always give and take insults, it shouldn't matter. Hell, I called you a Matryoshka doll yesterday because you're so damn full of yourself. Like -- I'm not just out here taking secret offence to everything you say!" Leo blabbered, rubbing his face against Donnie's sleeve, trying to ease the pour. It was futile.

Donnie hummed. He rubbed Leo's shell in predictable patterns. He said, voice not nearly as affected as Leo's, "Do you remember when I used to storm off mid-conversation all the time?"

Leo sniffed loudly. He did, actually. When they were about eight or nine, there was a period that Donnie left almost every conversation in a cloud of anger and it confused the shit out of Leo because he couldn't figure out what he was doing wrong.

"Then I finally told Dad that when you guys interrupted me, it made this like, bubble of frustration and upset grow and grow. And he said that we could talk to everyone and set a boundary that everyone gets their turn to talk."

Leo hiccupped against the damp fabric he was crying on. "No, you started by saying we couldn't interrupt you, then Raph implemented the rule later that it was only fair you couldn't interrupt people either."

"I understand the rules of conversation much better at seventeen than I did at nine." Donnie said, a little sheepish. "Do you get the point of what I'm trying to say?"

"That you love the sound of your own voice." Leo replied, gravelly.

Donnie flicked the side of his head that wasn't hidden in his sleeve. "That even if it seems like something that shouldn't be a big deal, if it's a big deal for you then you need to voice it. Because then we can fix it."

"I thought my twin was here, not my therapist." Leo muttered.

Donnie put him in a headlock, Leo making a startled muffled noise and clutching his arm. Donnie said, "I want you to ask for help when you need it."

"Big ask." Leo struggled and whined in the hold, unable to stop the fact that he was still fucking crying and about a thousand degrees and literally itchy with the emotion they were dealing with. "Let go."

It said to how worried Donnie was that he immediately loosened the head lock. Instead he turned it to a fierce clutch, digging his chin into Leo's shoulder and shuddering a breath in his ear, like he was the idiot crying instead of Leo.

Maybe he was. Leo didn't want to pull back enough to check. Instead he burrowed close like he could meld together with Donnie and just fix all his problems. Funny. If only Leo ever voiced the problems that needed fixing.

Lungs stammering with the force of his sobs, trickling into a coughing fit, he thought about why the hell he never mentioned the loudmouth thing. It wasn't like it was a big deal -- it was just -- it was just another thing. Another voice in the chorus of his mind, reminding him over and over again that he needed to...

To what? What was the big thing he felt he needed to make up for? His damn existence? Like every moment he was putting on a big show to pay penance for the sin of being alive?

The hot rush of tears redoubled. Donnie sighed in his ear and held him closer, as if there was actually any more they could be elbows and knees knocked together.

"You had promised me, before, that you would consult me on decision that affects me." Donnie told him, rocking them back and forth a little bit in his hold. "I'd like to add to that statement. Please consult me on anything that makes you feel bad about yourself and I will check the validity of the statement."

"That just s-seems impractical." Leo stuttered, unable to catch his breath now. Too hot. Drowning in it, trembling in his twin's grip.

"You think I wouldn't do it? I can be genuine when I put my mind to it." Donnie said, offended.

"No." Leo's teeth chattered. "I think t-there's not enough hours in the day, dude."

An uneasy silence. Donnie squeezed and when did he get so strong? It practically crushed Leo. Collapsed his stupid chest in and killed him. No, that was the delirium. Maybe.

"Would you rather that I never said anything?" Donnie said, almost sudden in his ear. "That I just kept getting more and more upset that you were interrupting me until I hated you?"

"I could never h-hate you, D." Leo replied, tired.

"You put so much effort into missing the point."

"Well duh."

"Let me rephrase. Would you rather that you found out, years later, that you had been unintentionally hurting me all this time?"

Leo's stomach churned. He hated hurting Donnie. Like, yeah, he loved knocking Donnie over or giving him a zinger. But all he could think about was during the lair games and how much he immediately wanted to undo the whole plan when Donnie hurt his ankle because of him.

It wasn't that Leo wanted to ascribe negative aspirations to Donnie, to think that he shouldn't care if his actions hurt Leo... he didn't want to voice his thoughts in the fear that maybe he was wrong and they were true. He didn't want to bring his insecurities forward and have them laughed off as another joke, because he had 'boy who cried wolf' essentially his entire life. There was no way to be genuine, because even he couldn't take himself seriously.

And then there was the quieter, more honest part. That he wanted the punishment to justify how he felt about himself. That he was hoisting himself onto this sword because it was easier than trying to accept any real assessment from those he loved. Scorn was easy.

Why didn't he want to be sick? Why didn't he want to be vulnerable? Because wasn't his life the joke here, he was the damn joke and he was always waiting for everyone in the room to laugh. At least he understood what to do with that reaction.

It was a joke but aren't the funniest jokes the ones with the truth in them? That you mean it?

But the word pinged in his mind, over and over.

Unintentional. Donnie didn’t mean it. The fear, all along, was that if he opened his mouth and said something about the loudmouth sign that Donnie would agree. It was a joke, they both knew it was a joke, but Leo pulled it inside his chest and held it just in case it was true. Collecting the little kernels trying to build ammunition against…

Waging a war against himself. Building up an arsenal to attack his frontlines at every given opportunity. He thought, a little hysterically, that perhaps if he was already fighting on so many different fronts, how fair was it that he was cannibalizing his own soldiers? It was no wonder he was friends with the train tracks. It was no wonder he’d stood there at least a dozen times before the one time he was caught, staring at the iron rungs and contemplating the point of the joke. What was the punchline?

Leo liked to think he was doing better. He liked to imagine that the months and months of extensive therapy had made a difference, that he had better coping mechanisms and better thought paths than he did before. That the Leo that got up every morning since his attempt was trying, really trying.

And then he really dug deep into the disgusting pit he called a brain, where there was only sewage and darkness, and found absolutely nothing worth fighting for. That the foundation of all his recovery was based off a faulty premise -- that he was worth the time and the effort.

Every moment was this show he was putting on, trying to paint this story that he was something, that they should buy into this concept of Hamato Leonardo, in some misguided belief that if only he could provide a smile then maybe he'd be worth the adenosine triphosphate used to get the shape on it on his mouth. To be something someone needed, for sure. To be something someone wanted, well. Ambitious, sure. Delusional, definitely.

Because he'd woken up every morning for seventeen years and no amount of wishing he could just be better ever actually got him anywhere. Like there was no actual concept of better, just the same useless shit he'd always been and always would be waiting for the laughter the joke of his existence.

If he couldn't do that, then the punchline was the sight of toes hanging over a ledge while the air battered him from all sides.

Leo was no closer to knowing how to answer Donnie's question. It was inherently a trap, designed to make him think about himself in the same way he thought of his twin (his mirror). His therapist tried to do it all the time. But it just missed this fundamental point that there was something good and worthwhile in Donnie, in Mikey, in Raph, that was just missed in him. It wasn't fair to use them as a metric for comparison, to say if Donnie, if Mikey, if Raph did what you did, how would you feel?

Trying to view himself like that never worked. Because he wasn't Raph, he wasn't Mikey, and no amount of being twins ever rubbed off enough on Leo that he could ever, ever be anything like Donnie. It was like holding a fish up to a bird and asking why it couldn't fly. It was never going to happen.

Leo didn’t try to counter Donnie, because he knew that with the hot soup of his brain (haha hot soup), there was no way he’d ever win an argument with Hamato Donatello in these conditions.

Instead he cried. Like a fucking pathetic child, tears dripping at an alarming rate, with no end in sight. Like an inconsolable brat bothering everyone who ever made the fatal mistake of loving him with his emotions and his problems. Not that they were even problems – so what he felt like the world was ending because his body hurt and his neurons were cooking in a pot of his own boiling juices – like whatever. Everyone got sick and no one else cried so hard their fingertips swum like TV static and couldn’t catch their breath from the repeated pummel of sobs.

Fuck, Leo hated it. This was the worst. And being pissed off that he was crying really only made everything more overwhelming and terrible and there was no escape, there was only this body in this bed and this crushing feeling to crumple him up in a little ball.

Though there was Donnie too. He hadn’t left, despite Leo’s disgusting display of emotion. It almost seemed like he’d been anticipating this, which sucked that apparently his pitiful outburst was expected of his sorry self.

He didn’t want Donnie here to witness it. This was why he always kicked people out of his room when he was sick, why he doused with Dayquil and pretended it wasn’t happening, why he’d rather devote himself keeping everyone else healthy and happy and –

Leo wanted to stop crying now. He really wanted to stop, he wanted his brain to shut up, he wanted to be asleep because it was as close to death as anyone would fucking let him be, he wanted to escape the prison of having a body and having it suffer and he wanted to not feel the way the world was taking different disorientating shapes before his eyes and he wanted to smile and have everyone believe him.

How much time had passed? His skin was too sore so he’d taken off the little Jupiter Jim watch Raph gave him, and the light blue alarm clock wasn’t visible through the blur of tears. Something about the way the passage of time was stretching and pulling in all directions made him lurch uncomfortably, like being pushed off a cliff head first. Something about the crackle of his ribs.

Time was fickle and pain was inconsistent and the world was shaped strangely, regardless of the blinding tears that would not leave him fucking alone. He felt as if he was caught in a riptide, dragged out to sea to drown. Head dunked under the waves, gasping for air as he aspirated on salt water.

The feverish spots of red were following his gaze around, growing and shrinking at alarming speeds. The coughing invoked some more spitting of frothy bile into the bucket. Another set of hands joined the fray, and Leo was fed water and meds and encouraged not to puke it by the hand stroking the back of his neck. He was still crying. It felt like it’d been days. The lack of sense of time was making his heart race, a second-hand panic like it was happening to someone else. The feverish painted lights of deep offal were beginning to crowd his vision in an uncomfortable, fearful way. As if they were expansive and infinitesimal both at once.

The weird hallucination stayed close by as the lack of temporal awareness haunted him. Leo asked Donnie the time. He asked him the time. He asked him the time. He asked him the time. He asked him the time.

Until it was reduced to this: Leo was crying. He was laid on his plastron, hands hanging out the front of the blankets, overtop Donnie’s lap while his twin rubbed his shell. Every minute without further prompting, he announced in a monotone voice the current time. Two fifty-two. Two fifty-three. Two fifty-four. Leo’s body was a million degrees, rolling a thunder of coughs up and down the inflamed soft tissue of his lungs in unpredictable and miserable patterns. The soak of his brain in scorching cerebrospinal fluid, rolling around and battering the sides of his skull. Splinter’s hand on his face, cooling him down with a wet washcloth. Wiping off sweat and tears and gently soothing.

He wasn’t hanging in suspension because he could feel so many things surrounding him. Care and concern and intent focus. He was still crying, the burn of it and the dry of his skin. Two fifty-five.

Splinter and Donnie whispered to each other quietly, words that Leo could not get his broiled mind to process. Donnie interrupted their conversation again to announce two fifty-six.

Leo didn't know if it was AM or PM. He supposed it didn't matter, only that time was passing slowly and evenly. That despite how much the fuckery made him feel like there was something intrinsically wrong, this was just the careening delusions of an unwell brain. There was no shapeless being ebbing and flowing with the presses of his vision, there was no time loss, there was no broken ribs.

Though maybe if he kept coughing like this, there would be. The conversation paused when he turned to the side to do so, feeling the scraped up inside of his trachea, the horrible dry drag against his pained lungs. Chest infection? Bronchitis? Pneumonia? All possible. He didn't have a spare thought to diagnose, he was hanging on by bloody fingernails against a cliff face.

Leo wondered if he asked, if he’d be left alone. If he opened his mouth and said that he didn’t want this, if they’d leave him be. And there was a crawling feeling, like something terrible climbing and clawing its way from the depths of his shitty mind, giving him a familiar idea, an old friend who hadn’t come to visit for a while, that maybe he could just… get himself alone. Grab his swords off their mount on the wall. And –

Damn it, Leo thought the meme a little hysterically, I’m back in the fucking building again.

The problem was that inviting in those kinds of thoughts was that it was easy and it was weirdly comforting. There was undeniable relief in the wings. There was a sense of control. Something that kept him company for so long, that they’d wanted him to set aside and move past.

Leo had tried and tried and tried but sometimes it felt like he hadn’t moved past it at all, that he was still standing right there on the tracks. And sometimes it felt like maybe he should just drag his useless flesh there to grant the self-fulfilling prophecy.

It was about this point that Leo realized in any other circumstance, he definitely should be using his safety plan. The problem was that there was already so much else that he was just desperately miserable about, that it was impossible to think of opening his mouth and saying hey yeah this probable bronchitis is great but the real problem is that you can’t leave me alone with my own thoughts for twenty minutes or my limited impulse control means I’m two seconds away from what I’ve promised you for months I’m trying to get over.

Get over, a mythical concept. He’d rather get under a train. Ha ha. Get it?

“Two fifty-eight.” Donnie told him, the calculated press of his hands, the shade of darkness over his face as he returned to his low conversation with Splinter.

Right. They were right there. Some of that horrified caught-feeling managed to lump in his throat, guilt and shame and the knowledge that he was well aware he was supposed to voice his changes in mood. That he needed to let them into his brain so they could assist him with the problems he was having, because they’d told him a thousand times over and over that they loved him and they wanted him around.

Terrible. Leo couldn’t stand another moment of his own head. He was exhausted with the physical and mental fight. He wanted to do something, say something, even if it was a joke, just to hear his voice and know it wasn’t all just this echo chamber in his mind. But when he tried to push air past his vocal cords, he discovered that the coughing had ravaged them.

“What’s up?” Donnie caught that he was trying, even if he hadn’t managed to make a sound, immediately discarding his whispered conversation with Splinter and giving Leo his absolute full attention.

No words. No sign, his arm was somewhere across the room, along with his stupid swords and his freedom–

But he wasn’t without ways to communicate. Not with Donnie, at least, never with them. Their vast collection of languages and methods to talk – he fumbled out a blind hand to grab Donnie’s, then hesitated before actually doing anything. What did his over-exerted, feverish mind even want to communicate in this moment?

He traced letters into Donnie’s palm. Time?

The flicker of Donnie’s expression in the dim light was a deep well of worry worry worry. He said, patient, “Two fifty-nine, Nardo.”

It was what he was asking but it also wasn’t. He repeated the trace. Time?

“Still the same.” Donnie repeated, and the monotone did not betray the wretched emotions that were told by the crunch of his brow and flutter of nervous fingers.

Not quite right. Leo tried again. Time?

A sigh. Donnie exchanged a worried glance with Splinter over his head. 

"Is this same question again, or am I not understanding what you're asking?" Donnie tried again, leaning over to try and catch Leo's eye from where he was sprawled.

A tremble, the red-eyes flickering up to Donnie, still managing a slow leak of tears. He didn't know how to articulate himself, even if he hadn't coughed his throat bloody. He wasn't sure he wanted to keep trying to explain, maybe he should try to see if they'd leave him alone instead.

Hah. Judging by the hold on him, that wasn't about to happen. He took Donnie's palm and traced: Ribs.

"Ribs." Donnie echoed. His hands skated down to press against Leo's plastron, where the wheeze of his cough originated. "Your ribs hurt?"

Donnie wasn't getting it, he needed to get it. Leo grabbed his hand back and traced, finger trembling: Gravity.

The fever made every cell in his body feel ten times heavier. Like gravity wasn't working properly -- like --

Maybe if Donnie hadn't spent months with him trying to make sure he got over his trigger with the moment of disconnection. But he had, and that word finally lit disquieted understanding, his face clearing in a very grim way.

"Oh, do you need your safety plan?" Donnie asked, swallowing hard.

Splinter startled. "How did you get that?"

Donnie mouth twitched in a bleak smile. "Call it twin telepathy. Or that I know that time clung to him in the prison dimension. Time feels weird when you have a fever. Add together that the bodily sensation of coughing can feel like broken ribs which he had during that experience and the way you feel heavy and weak, like gravity is against you. He's been triggered."

Ah. That was what it was. The hallucination of the red spots was perhaps feeding into that as well, making his whole body feel as if he was trapped in a limitless hell with only a red-spotted demon for company, battered ribs and weird time and weird gravity.

Identifying why it was happening was the first step. Things made more sense, it wasn't just a random spur of thoughts. Leo relaxed into Donnie's grip, because that was it. The clawing guilt that he could be so weak and suicidal off a simple stupid conversation with his brother, but that wasn't it. Or only it.

It was too hard to go through the safety plan while sick, especially since Leo couldn't focus. But just the burden of carrying his sudden onslaught of suicidal thoughts being lifted even a little was worth it. He sunk deeper into Donnie's hold, thinking about how there was a caged thing inside him screaming furious that he'd caved and told them, that he should've kicked them out and taken the swords off the wall.

Leo felt sorry for that angry, scared thing, that wanted to tear itself apart before anyone else could. Because he reached out and Donnie reached back because he'd been there all along begging him to ask for help. And Leo asked because he was exhausted and it was either 3AM or 3PM and knew without a single shadow of a doubt that Donnie would fix it.

Sleep took him while he was still contemplating the remaining lurking problem, did he deserve to be fixed?

And when Leo woke up, it was to the words 'why don't you love you like I love you?' playing in his head over and over, relentlessly repeating.

A bit of haze of fever was lifted, though his cheeks were spotted with heat. There was a warmth surrounding him in more ways than one -- he was still laying over his twin's lap, feeling the wheeze of his lungs with every half-asleep breath. There was a tablet being tapped on braced against his shell. And Sensei was there, returned and struggling through the half-asleep fog.

'Woah.' Sensei said, obviously discovering the shambles of the mind from his eensy weensy little breakdown. 'What the hell happened, kid?'

'Don't worry about it. Conceal don't feel.' Leo replied, equally pushing through the cobwebs to try and get some footholds.

'Worried about it.' Sensei replied, prompt. Especially since Leo's thoughts were still repeating the same phrase, Donnie's words, trapped in a little cave and impossible to hide from Sensei. Why don't you love you like I love you?

'Hold on, back up, come here a second.' Sensei summoned, pulling Leo away from surfacing and into the back with him.

'Let's not go dark right now.' Leo complained, itchy with it, even though that sounded kind of nice. Maybe go dark for a while. Maybe go dark forever--

Sensei's face when they drew in was somber, eyes flicking over him. Leo felt dissected, automatically raising his arm to swipe at his cheeks like the torrent of tears carried into the mindscape. It might've, with how much the damn place loved symbolism.

'What happened?' Sensei repeated, gentle, reaching out to hold Leo's arm. Giving an encouraging little squeeze.

'Can't you tell?' Leo said, wry, and let it happen. Let the sense memory of the night before wash over both of them. L against mouth. A conversation he'd avoided for years. The burst dam of tears. And maybe just a little of the lurching relapse of thoughts.

Before he got through it all, Sensei was already dragging him forward and tucking Leo underneath his chin. A tight squeeze, accompanied with a shuddering breath against the top of his head.

'I'm fine.' Leo lied.

Sensei made a buzzer noise, giving another squish.

It invoked a choked laugh in the back of Leo's throat. He said, 'I'll be fine. I just got really... weak. It won't happen again.'

'Still wrong.' Sensei told him, letting go and pulling him to arm’s length. He gave a little smile, not sad, just... quiet. 'You don't need to be perfect. No one is expecting you to never slip. We just want you to reach out when you do so we can help.'

Leo's mouth wobbled. He chewed on the smile he was trying to give, stubborn and bullheaded. 'But I don't want to slip.'

'Too bad. You're human.' A small pause. 'Mostly. You've gotta deal with this if you want to have better luck next time getting through it without dissolving into those kinds of thoughts. You should tell Donnie how that made you feel.'

In show, Sensei tapped an 'L' against his mouth. It was weird to see him do that movement, because he always did the 'S'. He'd managed to escape the shackle of that loudmouth. Though maybe he'd had it beaten out of him. Maybe that's what Leo needed to happen--

Sensei flicked him in the middle of his forehead, startling him out of the spiralling thought. 'Stop that.'

'Hey.' Leo said, offended, rubbing his forehead. 'I -- I don't need to tell Donnie that, my stupid fevered mind already did last night.'

'But you didn't talk about it. You avoided it.'

'Yeah, well, even I've learned to move on from a joke if no one's laughing.'

Sensei sighed that big annoyed sigh he did when Leo was being his most obstinate. He pinched between his brow and said, 'Think about how Donnie's feeling right now. He's just learned that he accidentally hurt you. He's going to want to fix it. You know that, right?'

'So I'll let him think that he's fixed it.' Leo shrugged.

'I am. Rattling you. I am rattling you so hard right now.' Sensei said, making a grabbing motion and shaking but not actually touching him.

Leo gave a sour laugh. 'Come on, oyaji. You know I'm frustrating. You've lived in this brain for longer than I have.'

'Do you want to die?' Sensei said, almost sudden. A punch of it, like a bullet straight through his chest.

It choked Leo. It suffocated him, bleeding out from the front. The automatic, knee-jerk reaction was: oh, yes please?

But then slower, remembering everything he'd taken on, all the months of trying. All the building blocks of emotional foundation. The hundreds of times he'd run through his safety plan, recognizing his trigger -- of which last night he'd had very many, not even just including the gravity and the ribs and time, but having to face the enemy he'd yet to even scrape in a fight, the grappling with his self-worth. That just because he felt in this moment that death is the best solution, there had been many times where he was looking forward to the future, enjoying his time with his family.

The false belief that this moment right now was the rest of his life. He needed to get through this moment so he would have the rest of his life.

It was like standing alone in the dark. Knowing fully well that there was a world around him, beyond his lack of sight, but being unable to see no matter how much he cleared his eyes. It dug hooks into his skin, that maybe this time there actually wasn't, maybe this time the darkness was truly all there was, and conceivably no way to get the light on again.

Except of course fumble around in the dark until he found it. Which was terrifying and hard and not something he felt like he had the energy to do again. It was the song of hope somewhere he couldn't hear.

'I know that if you asked me a week ago, the answer would be different than it is right now.' Leo said slowly, the closest to an admission that he could give without the urge to make some terrible joke.

Sensei's eyes crinkled when he smiled, so Leo knew he appreciated how much effort that took.

'You've been so good so far.' Sensei praised, lighting a firecracker in Leo's chest at the words. 'Just keep going. Don't backtrack. Okay?'

It brought back again the same, ringing question: did he deserve to try?

'What do we do when we're not sure if something is true?' Sensei said, firm, catching the thought as it whirled past like an alarm.

'Ask Donnie.' Leo said immediately. He was just afraid of the answer. Scared, as always.

'Good kid.' Sensei nodded. 'Let's go. Back to the fun.'

'Do we have to?' Leo whined, already knowing the answer. They'd barely pressed away from the surface so returning was easy. He just had to clutch the crushing feeling of aching fever and he was grounded in the misery again. Sensei rode along, flexing their fingers.

"With me?" Donnie asked, from above, a little distant as their brain cleared.

The two Leo's wavered back and forth, not settling either of them. They rubbed their crusty eyes, disgusting with the influx of tears and accepted the offered water bottle with a fumbling hand.

It was heaven on their throat, ravaged and dry. They pressed the bottle to their cheek as it was slightly cooler than their body, shutting their eyes for a moment and trying to breathe. A cough bubbled on the edge, begging to be released, but Sensei had the firm hand on control keeping it down.

"Both of you?" Donnie said, after a very long moment of watching them move.

A twitch of their lips, almost impressed that he'd immediately picked up on it. But of course he had. Donnie had been taking the PHD in Leonardo his whole life and was the most qualified to answer on the topic, even more so than either of them.

It was six in the morning. Donnie helped them take their next dose of meds, walk to the bathroom and back, change into something not sweat-slicked before collapsing exhaustedly back into bed. They settled beside Donnie, who was sitting up with his tablet over his knees. A cough or two escaped their throat. The blaze of fever was halved, but still annoying.

"Mikey said he'll make you whatever you want for breakfast. He'll probably be up shortly." Donnie told them, not meeting their eye once settled again. "I convinced Dad to go to bed about an hour ago, but I expect Raph'll take over soon. So if we're gonna talk about last night, we should do it now. Unless you want an audience."

Leo wanted to avoid the conversation entirely, but he'd been coached enough by Sensei before they roused not to voice that. He cleared his throat, tapped an 'L' to his mouth, and said in a rasp, "What are we talking about?"

Something funny flashed over Donnie's face, and he still didn't meet Leo's eyes. He said, "I'm pretty sure you were asking for your safety plan before. Do you want to go through it now?"

"Sure." Leo said. It had been drilled into him over and over that it was not shameful to ask for, that they could go over it as many times as he needed. The repetition did not stop the worm of guilt and shame and fear but at least he was getting better at doing it anyway. Doing it scared.

Donnie pulled it up on his tablet. "I know the answer to the first one, because you communicated that to me. You felt triggered by the sensations of being sick making you feel like a lost sense of time, pain in your ribs, and the pull of gravity. Was there anything else contributing to that?"

"Nope." Leo lied, rubbing his sternum uncomfortably, feeling the crackle of his lungs.

Donnie hesitated. He looked at Leo.

'You said you'd try.' Sensei reminded.

'I am trying. This is me trying.'

A sigh. Sensei didn't interfere. He did stick close to the front, a warm presence hovering nearby.

"Is there something you could do to feel better?" Donnie said, and offered over the list.

There was a bunch of things they'd brainstormed over many repetitions. Reading comics. Going skateboarding. Listen to music. Throwing ice. Most of them were things not particularly possible when currently laid out with a fever.

The problem was that if he didn't pick an internal strategy, then the next step was to involve someone else. And Leo really didn't want to do that right now. He pulled a pillow over his head and hid from his problems for a minute, struggling with how he couldn't even do something as simple as a stupid little harm reduction checklist.

The problem really was that he didn't want to be redirected right now. It just didn't seem to matter that he knew a week ago he didn't necessarily want to die. And to go through this whole thing was just so excruciating. Dragging Donnie through his problems, forcing him to be all calm and collected and supportive and it was just all so fucking fake and performative.

Donnie hesitated, then asked in a completely different voice, “Is there anything we can do right now to keep you safe?”

Ow. Ow, why did that hurt so fucking much? Leo wondered if it was possible to suffocate himself with a pillow. Pretty much as soon as he thought that, Sensei took the front like a dad scooping a kid out of danger and told him, ‘I’m going to answer Donnie’s question if you won’t.’

Leo blinked into the dim light, Sensei removing the pillow and immediately spiking eye contact with the smouldering apprehension clouding Donnie’s gaze.

‘Just. Don’t scare him.’

Sensei drew forward, one foot in the door, and tapped an ‘S’ to his mouth quick before he said, “I would take the swords away. That’d be good for right now.”

Leo grabbed and pulled him back, hissing, ‘I said don't scare him.’

Donnie was already up and moving. He grabbed the swords from the wall and left a vacuum in his wake.

Leo stared at the door, half open in the dark six AM hallway. He wondered where Donnie was taking the swords. It was so boring that he couldn’t keep a coping mechanism long enough to implement it, that he swung back and forth between wanting to be better and never actually improving. Cycling rapidly. Donnie was back about two minutes later, expression carefully blank. He shut the door again and climbed back onto the bed, stepping on Leo’s feet in the process.

“Ow.” Leo said, pointedly.

“Shut up.” Donnie replied, settling on the other side of him and gathering his tablet back up. “Thank you, Sensei. Do you have anything else you’d like to contribute, Leon?”

Only about a thousand really bad jokes. They all crowded behind his tongue, eager to be spat out and defuse the undeniable tension in the room. But it wouldn’t make it better, because he was just a stupid loudmouth who never faced a problem head on if he couldn’t deflect it.

‘What’s the worst that could happen?’ Sensei proposed.

‘He’ll hate me.’

‘Come on. Be realistic.’

‘You’re not my therapist.’

‘You’re right. Do you want to call him? Because we are dangerously getting into ‘calling your therapist’ territory right now.’

Leo whined internally at him.

‘This is Hamato Donatello. He is the smartest person we’ve met and ever will meet. Do you think he would do something as illogical as love someone if we didn’t deserve it?’ Sensei offered.

Puncture wound directly through the heart. Leo practically wanted to gasp for air over it.

Sensei hammered the nail in the coffin. ‘Don’t you trust him?’

Leo trusted him more than he trusted himself. He reluctantly blinked the world back into focus, finding Donnie just waiting.

“Has your combined braincell reached a consensus?” Donnie asked, because of course he knew that they’d been speaking with each other.

“Why did you say that?” Leo spoke, the words coming from his mouth like it was someone else. But it was him.

“You will very much have to be more specific.”

Leo’s stomach churned like there might be more vomiting in his future. He ignored it, because he was pretty sure it was just all this damn emotional turmoil. Maybe. He was shivering again and fought the blanket to drag up to his chin and nose. He replied, half an eye on Donnie, “About my stupid smile.”

“Why did I say that?” Donnie parroted, matter of fact. “Because I meant it. I wouldn’t say it otherwise.”

“I don’t want you to pity me and pretend like I’m not annoying.” Leo pointed out, just a little muffled. “There’s no way you think about my smile when everything else about me is so much louder and obnoxious.”

Donnie didn’t reply for a second, and Leo tipped his head back to see him better. His twin was grinding his teeth tightly, hands clenching. Then he forcefully tipped his head back and said, “You’re wrong.”

Leo snorted.

Donnie sighed. “Seriously. I don’t get it. Why don’t you love you like I –”

“Stop.” Leo cut him off with a snarl. “Stop, don’t fucking say that shit, okay? I’m not – I’m not about to –”

He couldn’t catch his breath and dissolved into coughs. Despite the fact that Leo was shitty brother and interrupted him again, Donnie rubbed his shell.

It was something he was still too chicken to discuss properly in therapy. The behemoth that was his idea of himself. What he was worth. He’d crack open his guts for viewing about the agony of wanting to die, but could barely push the words ‘I hate myself’ past his lips.

His lovely therapist Rex had been quite patient, but clear that they couldn’t get where they wanted to be unless they started to work on the roots of the problem. Leo didn’t want to pull the roots up and expose them to light.

If he did that, what would be left? Hating himself was easy. In a sick, perverse way it felt good. It felt right. He just didn’t understand what on earth talking about it would accomplish other than reenforcing his beliefs or making him think that everyone was just telling him what they felt he wanted to hear?

‘Stop.’ Sensei said.

Leo stopped.

‘Reset.’ Sensei told him. ‘Deep breath.’

Careful not to set off their cough, Leo took a deep breath. Slow and steady.

‘Try again.’

‘I’ve tried so many times.’ Leo said, exhausted with it.

‘Good thing there’s no limit on how many times you get to try again. So try again.’

Leo breathed. He breathed. He breathed.

He needed to remember Donnie wanted to fix this. That when he reached out Donnie was already going to be reaching back. Donnie wanted him to consult him. What parts of his nasty, insidious brain liked to wipe that thought from his consciousness every single time he tried to gain ground in this fight? He trusted Donnie. He trusted his family, wholly and completely.

“I’m sorry for interrupting you.” Leo opened with, because he was. It was important, because Donnie had expressed a long time ago that being interrupted made him feel ignored and small and it hurt him, and Leo didn’t want to hurt him. Just like how Donnie didn’t want to hurt Leo. He held onto the thought like a life-raft, desperate not to lose it in the rapids of his chemically imbalanced thoughts this time. “I don’t have a good answer. My brain is just like this.”

There was an upset contortion over Donnie’s face, one that he failed to hide. He said, “I accept your apology. Do you accept mine?”

The leftover sweep of fever was making this hard enough without the struggle. Accepting the apology would mean some kind of horrible admission of vulnerability, that there was something you could say to the infallible faceman that might shake him. That there was any kind of soft underbelly that could be pierced. That behind his smile wasn't just another smile, unto infinity.

Leo hated the moment in illness when it all snapped and left him defenceless. He hated that, but he tried again and reminded himself that it had already happened and they held him through it. Donnie counted the minutes out loud for him for who knows how long. There was zero evidence that anything bad would happen. He was experiencing a grand cognitive distortion based off his trash self-esteem. It was not the reality. He had to reach out to find the reality.

"I accept your apology." Leo managed, pulling himself away from Donnie's grip and pushing up. He wavered with his weak muscles but managed to get into a crossed legged sit facing his twin. The moment they met eyes he broke the contact, turning away and rubbing the back of his neck. "I get it, okay. That it was a joke and you didn't mean it."

"So why have you held onto it this long, then?" Donnie implored, something ragged and desperate in his tone.

Big inhale. Sensei holding him up. Practically radiating pride at how hard he was trying. Leo attempted to gather the ends of his courage, terrified to voice it but doing it anyway, "I know it's contradictory, to say I know you didn't mean it then say that I held onto it just in case you did. Because, you know, I am a loudmouth. Like."

"I am metaphorically taking that word away from you and placing it on the top shelf." Donnie said, pained. "You are never allowed to think it again, because it hurts me to think of you hurting yourself with my careless words."

"You were joking, I know you were joking. It's just me taking it personally." Leo shot back, listening to the ravaged vocal cords strain.

"And I told you, is it bad that I take it personally when someone interrupts me?" Donnie insisted, sharp.

"It's different."

"Why?" Donnie did not relent the sharpness, growing tired of Leo and grabbing his face and directing him back to Donnie's intent focus. "It's different because it's you? That makes no sense. What sin have you committed that you deserve this punishment?"

The words 'being alive' dried up in his throat. Because Donnie just looked so upset.

He didn’t want to voice his thoughts, because it would all just sound so begging for attention, so woe-is-me, give me pity bullshit. He didn’t want to say that he felt like his biggest crime was continuing to force everyone to deal with him, that the only consolation he could give for his existence was to put on a show, to get a laugh, to bow with a painted perfect smile.

Leo didn’t say any of that. He didn’t want to give Donnie a lie in this moment, so he gave him nothing at all. Donnie was staring at him, head on, and dropped his hands, and he looked like he was the one that was ill. A big swallow, eyes flickering, searching for something he wasn’t finding.

“I don’t know what to say to fix this.” Donnie said, helpless and hurting with it.

Hysterical little bubbles frothed in his lungs, coming out in a wild smile. “I don’t think it’s something that can be fixed, D.”

“You’re wrong. As per usual.” Donnie poked him hard in the middle of his plastron. “This is not your sentence. You are very lovable, just ask Mikey, or Raph, or me. Hell, I know Sensei loves you to death. That should really say something to you.”

It felt like everyone had said that to him a thousand times and it never had any staying power, it never had the capacity to sway the far more powerful thoughts he’d lived with his whole life. He didn’t want to get Donnie’s hopes up, “I don’t know if I can.”

“Are you telling me that some thoughts are stronger than Hamato Leonardo?” Donnie challenged, a gleam in his eyes, leaning forward because he knew exactly what he was doing.

Annoying that it worked, sparking a little competitive thing inside him, long asleep. He gave Donnie an unimpressed stare, even as a wiggle of pleased emotion that Donnie thought he was strong. Misguided, maybe, but it only made Leo want to prove him right, to make his twin proud.

“Oh, is that actually going to work?” Donnie said, around the grin he was stretching, now that he’d finally found the right combination. “Shall I challenge you to a battle of wits?”

“Against an unarmed opponent?” Leo said, with a wink, any charm ruined by the rasp of his voice and the self-deprecation.

Donnie whacked him in the head with a pillow. “That’s the opposite of what we’re doing, Leon. Tell me something that you like about yourself.”

It shouldn’t have made an icy hand close around his heart. Leo said, “What?”

“You heard me.” Donnie didn’t relent, holding the pillow in threat. “Tell me something that you like about yourself.”

“You are not my therapist, D.”

“I don’t believe for a second that you’ve actually talked to your therapist about this.” Donnie said, with a scoff.

A mutual standoff. Leo scowled at him. Donnie scowled back, exaggerated. The stonewall was interrupted by Leo’s hacking cough.

“Pneumonia?” Donnie asked.

“Not nearly enough chest pain, but I’d need an x-ray to be certain.” Leo replied, and spat a mouthful of mucus into a tissue. It looked normal. “I’m thinking bronchitis.”

“Delightful.” Donnie replied, thick sarcasm. “Tell me something that you like about yourself now.”

Leo groaned, loud and dramatic, and flopped backwards onto the bed. He stared at the ceiling with itchy eyes, unable to think of a single thing that he liked. All that came to mind was all his annoying qualities. All the things he repeated in his mind that would not satisfy Donnie’s question.

‘Come on, kid.’ Sensei gave him a friendly jostle from where he was steadfastly nearby. ‘You can do it.’

‘I’ve got nothing.’ Leo replied, whining.

‘Anything. Anything at all.’

Leo swallowed, and there was a ricocheting emotion that was stopping him from volunteering anything. Self-consciousness, awkward and unsure. He tried, “My stripes.”

A beat of surprise. Donnie repeated, in a neutral voice, “Your stripes?”

“Yeah.” Leo reached up and spread his fingers over where he knew the red was, still staring at ceiling. “I like my stripes.”

Leo wasn’t sure what he was expecting to happen now, but Donnie said with total honesty, “I like your stripes too.”

“Yeah?” Leo propped up on his elbow.

Donnie was looking back at him, earnest, nodding quick. “Yes.”

“Huh.” Leo straightened from his flop and gave a shrug. “Okay then.”

“Is there something about your personality you like too?” Donnie asked next.

“My appearance isn’t enough?” Leo drawled, but his heart began to double time. It had been hard enough to dig up something superficial, like his stripes, let alone something that was intrinsic to him.

“Chicken?” Donnie said.

Leo stuck his tongue out. “I’m not a four year old. That’s not gonna work.”

Donnie began to cluck. Leo burst a laugh that crackled from all the inflammation in his poor lungs.

“Stop, you loser.” Leo pushed Donnie’s face and then held his ribs as they ached. “Ohh, I don’t know. Why are we doing this?”

“Because if you do it with me, it might be easier with your therapist.” Donnie said, prompt. “I can fix this. I’m getting the ball rolling. You know that I’ll tell you the truth. You’ll see that the world doesn’t end.”

Leo huffed, amused. He said, “I don’t think I can.”

“Try. Keep trying.”

Keep trying. Keep going. Even if you’re scared. Especially if you’re scared. There's no limit on how many times you can try.

It was hard, because nothing easy came to mind. He ran through and discarded like a dozen different answers, wheezing with his laboured breath. Fingertips swimming with hungover fever. Nothing felt sincere – he wasn’t kind, he wasn’t friendly or smart or any of the things people usually liked about themselves. Anything he considered that he liked about his brothers just didn’t apply to him. Anything he could do, they could do better.

A singular realization. Leo said, slowly, “Chess.”

“You are very good at chess.” Donnie agreed, without hesitation. One of the only games he’d ever beaten his twin in, so an honest admission.

“I like… that I’m good at strategy. And thinking ahead.” Leo said, careful. Trying not to say anything too outrageous. But it was true – he prided himself on his capability to strategize, remembering pleading with his dad during the Battle Nexus to just have a little faith in him, in the one thing he was good at.

“I like that about you too.” Donnie replied.

“You’re just saying that.” Leo felt his cheeks heat, because this was so stupid.

“Rattling you.” Donnie said, in a monotone. “I am rattling you.”

Okay, that made him laugh, breaking the tension. He wasn’t sure if Donnie picked that up from Sensei or the other way around. Leo flashed Donnie a smile, eyes crinkling, and said, “Okay, okay, I get it.”

All the tension in Donnie’s posture relaxed at once. He said, his hand shaking slightly when it raised to rub at his tired eyes, “Look at that, the world did not end.”

“I still don’t think it’ll work.” Leo defended, weakly, because he didn’t want to get Donnie’s hopes up.

“Won’t know unless you try.” Donnie said.

Leo sighed, but kept the smile just for him.

Mikey came by and announced that breakfast was ready. They put the effort into moving Leo to a dining room chair so he could eat with everyone and definitely infect them with his germs. There was definitely going to be more of his safety plan after they ate. Then more meds and more sleep.

But when Mikey asked who was fronting, Leo gave his name sign, L against his mouth. And for the first time, he thought about his smile.