Summary: Sometimes people change. Sometimes they stay the same.
Sequel to Changed.
Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.
"That hurts!"
Donatello gritted his teeth but continued to dab antiseptic on the large, red gash along his brother's shoulder.
"It wouldn't hurt," he said, his voice low and measured. "If you didn't have it."
The medical bays fluorescent lights made the gash look deeper than it was. Donatello ignored his brother's hiss as he inspected the wound again with his fingers. It didn't need stitchers.
Too bad, Donatello thought, putting the antiseptic away. Would serve him right.
He turned to riffle through a nearby drawer.
"Serious? Bandages?"
"Shut up."
He ignored the huff from his patient. It only took a moment to realise everything was too big or small and he shut the drawer.
What now? He thought. We live in the sewers.
Still thinking, Donatello turned to find his older brother shuffling towards the exit.
"Not so fast."
He jumped up and dragged the almost-escapee back to his empty chair.
"You can't leave the lair – alone! - for hours and not expect–"
His patient cut him off with a question: "Is this what I was like?"
Donatello paused.
"What?"
"When Raphael snuck out and I'd lecture him when he got home?"
"Mostly but -"
"Does this make me Raphael?" Leonardo said, his mouth arching upwards in the corners. "Should I tell you to mind your own business and storm off?"
Donatello jabbed his finger at him.
"You should know better. He worries - a lot - especially when you do this."
Leonardo snorted.
"Guilt - nice try."
"It's true."
"Call it 'revenge'."
"That's not fair. You didn't even take your phone. You don't know how worried we …"
His older brother raised an eyebrow and Donatello trailed off.
Of course he knows what it's like he thought. We did the same thing to him for years.
Leonardo shrugged.
"Sometimes I just need to get out." he said. A strange look crossed his face, one Donatello could not read but then he blinked and it was gone.
"I need space," He added, not looking at his brother. "I need to be alone."
"I understand but -"
"Then understand."
Donatello gritted his teeth hard. He knew it was somewhat hypocritical – him, Michelangelo and especially Raphael's concerns. Leonardo had worried about them going topside alone for years and they had ignored him. It was almost fair for them to worry after him. But that was before …
Before Donatello's mind eye, Leonardo blacking out in the dojo became Leonardo doing the same thing but alone, on a rooftop.
Leonardo having a seizure on the couch became Leonardo twitching violently alone, in an alleyway.
Leonardo, disorientated and confused in the kitchen changed into Leonardo, alone, disorientated and confused in the dark of New York.
Donatello steadied himself. Leonardo had had his reasons. They now had theirs. It was dangerous for his older brother to be topside. Alone. Period.
Donatello narrowed his eyes: "Then understand we will be watching you."
He turned away but then stiffened. As Leonardo got up to leave, his brother had said something, his voice so low Donatello almost didn't hear him.
Almost.
"You can try."
Anger boiled inside Donatello. He spun to face his brother's retreating form, ready for what he imagined would become a loud argument, but stopped when he spotted a non-descriptive can on the workbench and smiled. Maybe it was time for a different tactic.
"Wait Leonardo, let me just cover that cut …"
In a different part of the lair, Raphael learnt against the subway carts' door. He was admiring the picture wall inside and trying not to listen to the low murmur of voices coming from the medical bay.
Let Don deal with him today Raphael thought. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his head. I've had my share.
Gone were the days Leonardo feared Raphael catching him breaking a rule. Raphael knew that. Now, Leonardo met him head-to-head in brutal arguments about him sneaking out; their roles reversed from younger days.
What do I do with him? Raphael thought, the answer as usual eluding him. Leonardo didn't see reason. Or he chooses not to, he mused.
Turning his attention back to the photo wall, he was drawn to one picture in particular.
Wide smiles and young faces gleamed back at him. The brothers sat on the couch in the lair, Splinter knelt on the floor and Casey and April stood behind the sofa. Raphael always felt competing emotions crash into him whenever he looked at this photo.
Happiness. Leonardo had just recovered from his sickness, the pact with the Foot Clan had been signed, Casey and April were about to get married and Splinter requested a photo.
Sadness. A keen eye would see Leonardo leaning towards his weaker side. He had never recovered his strength and his once graceful brother now walked with a limp. There was more, something only someone who knew him well would see. He may have been smiling but it was constrained. He looked surrounded. Trapped.
Feeling uncomfortable, he fixed his eyes on Master Splinter and felt a different kind of sadness. The photo was taken five years ago. Splinter died two years after.
Sickness and old age had taken him in the end. Donatello had worked tirelessly, they all had, but they hadn't had the expertise, equipment or resources to make a difference.
Raphael felt his fingers clench into fists.
All we could do was make him comfortable. He thought. If only we were human.
He quickly cut that train of thought off. He'd been down that path before. They weren't human. They never would be. There was no point dwelling on what that truly meant when it came to considerations about access to hospitals, medicine and the like.
All they could do was watch their Master die.
A quiet spot overlooking a pond at Casey's farm was chosen. A small ceremony was held. Flowers laid. Words said. Then they went home and lived in a daze.
Raphael paused.
What did we do afterwards? He thought. As usual, he couldn't remember.
Have I forgotten? He wondered. Or do I not want to remember?
He assumed April and Casey visited often. He vaguely remembered Michelangelo might have burnt his hand on or in the toaster. He remembered the lair felt empty even when they were all in it. They had not trained.
Too soon, someone would say when it was brought up. Too soon.
And then one day they got a phone call. April was pregnant.
Everyone snapped out of the daze. Donatello devoured medical books. Michelangelo spent his time overexcited. Everyone pretended to be annoyed but they were happy he was happy. Raphael helped Leonardo ensure the lair was baby safe and they may have had a few (many) brief (long) discussions on what and how they were going to teach the newest member of the clan to defend himself. Overtime, the gaping hole they all felt began to heal.
April gave birth to a baby boy and a few days later, after all the other well-wishers had left, the brothers snuck in for their first glance. As balloons that had previously stood proud by the crib were sinking to the floor, April ushered them into the 'Babies Room' before disappearing.
"Why's he so small?" Michelangelo whispered. They stood beside the crib, peering down at a bundle of blankets and pink flesh. It was sleeping.
"He's bigger than average … for a baby," Donatello said.
"Of course." Michelangelo said. "Casey's the father."
Leonardo chuckled.
They were quiet for a moment.
"So," Michelangelo said, glancing at his brothers. "What now?"
Raphael shrugged. This was the closest he had ever been to a baby. Michelangelo was about to say more when April came into the room.
"Want to hold him?"
Raphael had handled engines, weapons and the odd dead body but nothing had prepared him for April handing little Casey Junior to him. He was so small. So seemingly fragile. He got used to handling him eventually but at that moment, he was happy to pass him onto an equally uneasy Leonardo. They still went back the next day. And the one after. Money was pooled to buy toys and April and Casey always had babysitters. They were still working on how to explain four mutant ninja turtle uncles was not normal but it was a problem for another day.
Raphael was broken from his thoughts by a shout from Leonardo as Donatello massacred … medically attended to him.
That'll teach you Raphael thought. Walking towards the medical bay, he was almost knocked over by a disgruntled-looking Leonardo who stormed past.
"Leo?"
"Let him go," Donatello said. He was standing in the doorway, a wide grin on his face and a can of liquid bandage in this hand. "That might make him think twice about leaving the lair."
They winced as their older brothers' door slammed shut.
"I doubt it," Raphael said. "He has a short memory … selective and otherwise."
Raphael followed Donatello back into the medical bay and watched as his brother started packing up.
"What was the reason this time?" Donatello asked over his shoulder.
Raphael shrugged, settling into one of the chairs.
"Same as last time … and the time before" he said. "He felt claustrophobic, wanted to get out of the lair so he pretended he was having a shower and snuck out when Mikey went to the kitchen."
"Figured," Donatello replied. He shut the final drawer and turned to his brother, crossing his arms over this chest. "I don't know what to do. I tried guilt this time."
"How'd that go?"
"Not well."
"There's nothing we can do," Raphael said. "Every time he sneaks out, we have this same conversation and we never come to an answer. All we can do is watch him and stop him the next time he tries to sneak out."
Raphael paused before saying wistfully: "I miss the days when he was scared of me."
Donatello laughed.
"I'd love to say there won't be a next time," Donatello said. "But that would be wishful thinking."
The brothers stood in silence for a moment.
"Sometimes I wonder if we should just let him go." Donatello said.
Raphael narrowed his eyes.
"You know we can't do that. He'll black out or worse. And what if he gets into trouble? He-"
"I know," Donatello said, holding up his hands. "I know. I tell myself the same thing but I just … I sometimes feel like his jailor."
The word 'jailor' jarred Raphael for a moment and the picture in the subway cart flashed in his mind. Constrained smile. Surrounded. Trapped.
Raphael pushed the thought aside as the main door slamming shut echoed throughout the lair. Their youngest brother was home and on cue, Michelangelo shouted: "Guys?!"
"In here!" Raphael shouted back.
Hurried footsteps drew near and Michelangelo burst into the room.
"We have a problem," he said.
"His name is 'Leo'." Raphael muttered.
"No," Michelangelo said, clutching his side. He was panting, as if he had just run a long way in a short amount of time. Raphael felt a cold shard of ice drop into his stomach
"It's the Foot." Michelangelo said. "They want to meet. Something is wrong."
Note: I started writing a sequel to Changed many, many years ago. The idea had been planted by the occasional request for a follow-up and I've slowly worked at it over the years. The story still isn't finished, though I think I know where I want it to end, but it occurred to me that if I didn't publish anything now, I probably never would and all that work would be for nothing. There's only so much you can read and reread your own work before you can't tell if it makes sense anymore. Consequently, I decided today was the day. This is a hobby to better improve my writing and if I'm not writing or publishing, what is the point? Anyway, I hope you enjoy and constructive feedback is most welcomed.