A/N: The story is based on Mirage Comics volume 1 but is technically an AU as the timeline isn't respected. The events takes place nowadays.
Each chapter has a cover. You can find it on my tumblr (check the Neververse tag) or on DeviantArt.
Beta-reader: SadoraNortica
Rating: M for adult themes, violence and such.


Neververse
Chapter 4
Montagnes russes

It was still dark when Leonardo woke up at four, like every other morning, but the dim lights of the emergency exits were enough for him to see clearly. He sat on his bed and authorized himself a minute to appreciate the calm of the corridor. It was his favorite moment of the day, when the other inmates still slept. Their breaths were regular, barely covering the hum of the lights and the low whisper of the ventilation. In three hours, the block B would be a hive with people walking and talking, calling each other out, joking, sometimes fighting. Leonardo liked this agitation and watching the other inmates interact normally, but he loved this minute of quietness above all.

He had three hours before the automatic opening of the grate, like every morning in the past three weeks. Leonardo got up and started his routine: stretching, push-ups, squats and so on. The first week in the penitentiary of Canaan had looked like the forty days spent at Saint Cecile Institute, exception made for the one hour walk outside every day, the showers, and the food delivered with much more regularity and without any drug in it. Then, the situation became better. Leonardo had had his own cell in block B and the freedom to walk around all day if he wanted to, the freedom to talk to anybody, to be part of the hive. Raphael and Michelangelo had the same privileges, even if they were in different blocks, and they had spent all of their shared time together since then, mostly outside, enjoying the space and the sun. Today wasn't going to be different, but they would be four instead of three. Donatello was coming back to them.

Their missing brother had spent the last five weeks in a hospital in New York. When Professor Sparrow had informed Leonardo of Donatello's condition, he had felt furious, capable of cold murder and anyone would have been the right choice to vent his anger. He didn't rip the professor's head off though, nor kill some guards on the way back to his cell. He had kept his anger under control to not jeopardize their chance to get out of there. Thanks to Donatello's state, Wolfe had been able to get them out of Saint Cecile and transferred to Pennsylvania, in another high secured facility. It wasn't freedom yet but it was better than their previous location. At least, escaping from this one was possible.

But it wasn't on the menu yet. They had to wait for Donatello, determine if he was well, look at the other alternatives and only then they could decide what to do. Raphael was all for running away and hiding somewhere forever. Michelangelo didn't give his opinion on the subject yet. Leonardo wanted to take his chance to this new world opening to them. They had fantasized about the idea of walking freely among the regular people of New York for years. Now was the chance. If Donatello agreed with him, it would be two for, one against and one undetermined. Convincing Michelangelo could be tricky but Leonardo had to try. Working their way out of there by behaving accordingly was worth the shot. Heck, if it didn't work, they just had to run away and Raphael would be the happiest turtle in the world for a few moments.

At half past six, Leonardo gathered his things. It wasn't much: four letters from April with drawings from Shadow, documents from Wolfe and Miller, a few books borrowed from the penitentiary's library, another clean uniform and what was necessary for a minimum of hygiene. Leonardo then removed the sheets of his bed, folded them neatly, sat at his desk and waited for the grates to open. Donatello was coming back to them and they were allowed to share a cell, not all together but it was better than being alone again. It had been remarkably difficult to sleep without his brothers' noises around. Leonardo was used to hearing them move in their sleep, breathe, mumble and grunt. He missed Michelangelo's deliberate farts made to annoy Raphael and the faint sound of Donatello's feet on the carpets when he slipped in bed very early in the morning. Just thinking about it, Leonardo smiled like an idiot. In a few hours, they would be four again.

Leonardo was the first out of his cell at seven AM. He walked straight to the end of the corridor, his things under one arm, his sheets under the other, ignoring the inmates coming out of their cell slowly. He had to wait a minute before the corridor's gate opened and he kept going as fast as authorized, heading for the block's sergeant's office. Powell was a man in his fifties slightly overweight, always calm and understanding. He had been a little anxious at the idea of having Leonardo in his block but there had been no problem since the mutant was there and the sergeant now dealt with him like with any other inmate. Or maybe with a little more respect. It didn't displease Leonardo.

The sergeant was still giving orders to a part of his staff in his office when Leonardo knocked on the door. He nodded at the Turtle and finished his daily speech before dismissing his men.

"Good morning," Leonardo said. "Where do I have to go?"

"To go?" Powell repeated, surprised. "Oh, right, your brother arrives today and you change your quarters. But it's too early for that, Leonardo."

"What do you mean?"

"Transfers take place during the morning, around ten in general."

"Ha."

Leonardo felt a bit stupid with his sheets and all. Powell smiled.

"Don't worry, you can leave all of that in my office and I'll keep it for you until then."

"Thank you," Leonardo responded as he handed his stuff to the sergeant. "When will Donatello arrive?"

"With the new inmates, around eleven," Powell replied as he locked Leonardo's things in a small locker in his office. "But you'll have to wait a little, it takes time to settle everyone. You'll see him in the afternoon."

Leonardo was not one to feel frustrated but that was what he felt at the moment. Six more hours to wait! It seemed to be an eternity and a half.

It was childish thinking that, Leonardo scolded himself. It wasn't the first time one of them was missing. After the Shredder's elite's defeat, Donatello had spent six months with Splinter in Northampton while Leonardo, Raphael and Michelangelo had lived their lives in New York. Leonardo had been busy finding a new home while Michelangelo had stayed at April's to help with the baby that was Shadow at the time. Raphael had been here and there, giving news every other day. He had needed some time alone, they all did, but they got back all together eventually. Since then, they did have some adventures on their own but their family prevailed. It was the safe place to go back to. It was the reason they kept living for. It now was the only thing that really mattered to Leonardo.

"What's the name of the big one again?" Powell asked. "Raffaelo?"

"Raphael," Leonardo responded without noticing.

"Ah, right. Your other brother, the one who arrives today, he will be with him in block A."

"What?!" Powell stepped back before Leonardo had realized he had barked at the sergeant. "There must be a mistake," Leonardo added in a much more controlled tone. "Why would Donatello be with Raphael?"

"That's not up to me," Powell said, uncertain. "I have orders. Michaelangelo will be transferred here to share a cell with you, that's what was decided."

"But that's stupid," Leonardo retorted. "Mike is Raph's best friend, Don's mine."

"You're already lucky enough to share a cell with one of your brothers," Powell reminded him sharply. "You can't be picky."

"I need to talk to the director," Leonardo decreed, folding his arms.

Powell snorted.

"You need to get off your high horse. You're in a penitentiary, boy, and you have to obey the same rules as any other inmate. It was the deal to let you out of isolation, remember? You don't make the rules and you don't get to see the director like that. Now, move away, inmate."

In a moment like that, Leonardo could envy Raphael's quick temper. His brother would have punched Powell and probably break his nose out of frustration. Leonardo had no problem picturing the force of the impact against his knuckles, the soft cartilage of the nose bending, the wetness of the blood on his hand, finally reaching the harder bones of Powell's face and destroying it with ease. So much ease. So much it was ridiculous. Leonardo started to laugh at the idea, to Powell's greater incomprehension.

"You don't want to go back to isolation today, boy," Powell threatened him coldly.

Leonardo snorted but he knew better than aggravating his case. He wouldn't miss Donatello's return to their family for the world so he walked away, chin up high, defying anyone to approach him. The other inmates had learned not to be in a Turtle's way. Canaan was a high secured penitentiary with particular prisoners, murderers for most of them, some beasts and low scum but most of its population was smart enough to not search for trouble against mutant turtles.

To be honest, Leonardo and his brothers had given them a show on their first day out in the courtyard and it had been deliberate. After hugs and teasing, they had fought, officially for training after forty-seven days of rest, unofficially to clearly state to the humans around that they had better not to fuck with them. Leonardo, Raphael and Michelangelo had ended up bloody and hurt but it had been totally worth it. It had felt fantastic to finally have some action. And to show off. For once, they had spectators and Leonardo had to admit he had liked the attention, the admiration and sometimes the fear in the eyes of the detainees.

It took Raphael to lift up two hundred kilograms dumbbells with ease to finish the work. Sure, Michelangelo and Leonardo couldn't lift so much weight themselves but the message had been understood: don't mess with the Turtles. Leonardo liked to think no one had annoyed them because of their capacities display but he also knew the prison's administration had something to do with it. There had been instructions. It was okay and, to be frank, Leonardo didn't mind the peace. He was eager to speak freely to people but those around were still criminals. Leonardo and his brothers had killed before but not for the same reasons. They never had ended a life just because they could and it made all the difference for them. They had killed to avenge Hamato Yoshi, to help Karai regain control of the Foot, to defend their lives the rest of the time. They weren't murderers. They were warriors, ninjas to be precise, skilled and deeply aware of the ambivalence of their actions. They weren't the same as those low lives.

The inmates could also not speak to them because they didn't want to approach freaks but it was an option Leonardo didn't desire to think about. Every day he saw the staff's reluctance to deal with him or his brothers even if they were polite and quiet around them and he knew it would take long before being accepted for who they were, but he believed they had their chance. Leonardo didn't want to acknowledge the surprise in the humans' eyes, he wanted to encourage the curiosity. He wanted to go to them to answer their questions and show them he was no different than them. He had a family for which he deeply cared. He had feelings such as pride and shame. He could feel happy or sad. He was just green and scaly but he was a sentient being. He was a person. And that would be something hard for people to understand for the rest of their lives.

But first, Leonardo had to make some people understand that not having Donatello in his cell was intolerable. He had nothing against Michelangelo. They were brothers, they loved each other and that would never change, even if they didn't have much in common. Michelangelo was much more intuitive than Leonardo and listened more to his feelings. His decisions came from the guts, whereas Leonardo's resulted of reflections. They were complementary and didn't always understand each other but they were on good terms in general. Michelangelo knew how to be serious when needed, Leonardo could take it easy on some rare occasions and it was enough for them.

Everything was different with Donatello. They understood each other perfectly, they knew what the other was thinking at all time, or at least how the other thought, and they didn't need to speak to communicate. A smile was enough, a look, the slightest change of position. It was a pleasure to fight with Donatello thanks to their complicity. He knew where to be, what to do better than Raphael or Michelangelo. Those two had the same connection, they were best friends as much as Donatello and Leonardo were. Everybody knew it, Leonardo had even told it to Sparrow, so why the Hell wasn't he sharing a cell with Donatello?

Sparrow. He needed to talk to Sparrow. The penitentiary's director listened to her when it came to Leonardo and his brothers. She was capable of changing his mind, Leonardo just knew it. He walked straight to the telephones lined up on a wall in the administration part of his block and noticed the absence of the guards usually there to supervise the calls. Perfect. Leonardo picked up a phone. There was no tonality. He hung up and tried again. Still nothing. The lines must be dead out of the authorized calling hours. Leonardo snorted and walked to the nearest guard's office, knocking on the thick window with metallic wires inside.

"What do you want, inmate?" a guard asked coldly when he opened the door but he froze when he recognized Leonardo. In other circumstances, the mutant would have smirked but he wasn't feeling playful at the moment.

"I need to call Sparrow," Leonardo said.

"You'll have to wait for..."

"No," he interrupted. "It's important and it can't wait."

"The rules are the same for everybody," the guard responded, starting to regain confidence. Leonardo had to change his strategy.

"You don't get it," he grunted. "Sparrow's our psychiatrist. She helps us dealing with you, humans. I need to talk to her, now."

The guard hesitated and gave a look over his shoulder to the four others in the small office. Leonardo vaguely knew who they were. Those guards were often around when the Turtles trained.

"What's worse?" Leonardo insisted. "Letting me have this call or dealing with me?"

The guards paled in unison. They knew they could take Leonardo down eventually but they would be heavily injured in the process. After a few look exchanges, they agreed and let Leonardo have his phone call. Two guards came with him to insure no other inmate would come to disrupt him – or ask for the same favor.

Leonardo called Sparrow on her cellphone and she picked up at the first ring after the automatic speech stating that someone from a prison was trying to contact her.

"It's Leonardo," the mutant said before she could ask. "I need to talk to you."

"On the phone?" Sparrow asked, surprised. "Is it wise? The calls are recorded."

"I know and I don't care. It has nothing to do with your evaluations. Which take forever to come to a conclusion, by the way."

Sparrow stopped a few second.

"You seem angry."

"Really, Doc?" Leonardo snapped. "I wonder why but absolutely no reason comes to my mind right now."

"What is it, Leonardo?" Sparrow asked more softly this time.

It could have been the tone of a mother worried for her child. In another occasion, like in the security of their interviews, Leonardo would have been touched by Sparrow's care for him and his brothers but it irritated him even more at the moment. He wanted to shout at her that she didn't have the right to speak to him like that, that she wasn't family and had to keep her distances.

But it would ruin all the work they had done so far and Leonardo couldn't do that to his brothers. He had to make this work so he swallowed his anger and took a deep breathe.

"Donatello arrives today," he started, everything under control.

"Yes, I know that. In fact, I'll be on my way to the hospital as soon as this call ends."

"You're coming to Pennsylvania too?" Leonardo grunted more than he asked.

"No, dear," Sparrow responded, "I have other patients to attend to and a lecture at the university this afternoon but I'd like to talk a little to Donatello before he leaves New York. He had become agitated in the past few days at the idea to come back to you."

"Agitated?" Leonardo snorted. "That doesn't sound like Donatello."

"He rubbed his hands a lot and often tried to change the subject," Sparrow said, and there was a smile in her voice. "For your brother, those signs are like flashing neon over his head. He can't wait to see you guys."

Leonardo felt his throat tightening. Donatello was the least likely to show signs of impatience. He was always calm and kept his cool most of the time. When annoyed, he could bitch a little but that was it. Donatello was as in control as Leonardo. The separation must have been ten times worse for him, now that Leonardo thought about it. April had told him in a letter that she wasn't allowed to visit him at the hospital so Donatello must have spent the last five weeks alone in his room, exception made for Sparrow's and the doctors' visits.

"Leonardo?" Sparrow called him. "What was the subject of your call?"

"Ah, yeah..." the mutant sighed while pinching the bridge of his beak. His request seemed so childish and egoist now. "Powell told me Don is going to share a cell with Raph and I wanted to ask you if you could intervene on the subject."

"Is that a problem?" Sparrow asked.

Leonardo winced.

"Not really but it would be more logical for Don and I to share a cell and Raph and Mike another."

"I advised against this configuration."

"What?!" Leonardo shouted and the guards looked at him, hand on their electroshock batons. "Why did you do that? You know Don and I..."

"I know," Sparrow interrupted, "but I also know that having Raphael and Michelangelo in the same cell is not a good idea, as well as putting you and Raphael together. Eventually, there will be an argument."

"You don't know that," Leonardo responded harshly.

"It's what I learned during my interviews," Sparrow explained. "Raphael only had meaningless bickers with Donatello whereas he had several arguments which ended badly with you and Michelangelo both. We want to avoid that."

"Okay, Raph is not easy to deal with," Leonardo admitted, "but he changed over the years. Our last serious fight was two and a half years ago. And Mike's his best friend. Raph's different with him."

"And he is much more calm when around Donatello," Sparrow insisted. "You may all be brothers but you don't act the same way with each other."

"But..."

"There is always tension between Raphael and you," Sparrow kept on, "and Michelangelo tends to play the idiot around Raphael to lighten his mood, which leads to disputes. It really is the best configuration to avoid problems, Leonardo."

Sparrow was right. Leonardo may have been angry at her but she was damn right and it annoyed him even more to realize she knew them so well after only a few weeks of interviews. Were they so simple, so easy to read? Splinter would be mortified if he knew his students failed once more.

No, Leonardo scolded himself. He wasn't going to think about Splinter.

"Fine," he dropped, his teeth clenched.

"Don't worry," Sparrow added on a softer tone. "You'll spend plenty of time with your brother."

"Can you give him a message?" Leonardo attempted. Sparrow had come twice a week to Canaan for her interviews and she gave them news of Donatello's health but she never agreed to give him a message for security reasons. But he was transferred today, in a few hours he would be there with them, there was no risk at all.

"I can," Sparrow agreed and Leonardo felt his chest becoming lighter. He sighed and turned his back to the guards, almost whispering in the phone.

"Tell him I miss him and I long for the moment I'll be able to take him in my arms."

Sparrow didn't respond immediately. She may have been writing it down – Leonardo couldn't tell, the connection wasn't good enough for him to hear all the little details he usually relied on.

"I will tell him as soon as I see him," Sparrow finally said. "I promise."

"Thank you," Leonardo sighed. "Thank you very much."

"You're welcome. I have to go now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you tomorrow."

He hung up, keeping his hand on the phone for a few seconds, recollecting his thoughts. Something wasn't right. Or maybe too right, like everything clicked into place. If Leonardo had tried to convince himself to adopt this "configuration", he would have used the same arguments. He would have used Raphael's temper as the weak point of the team. It was too right, which meant something wasn't right. Sparrow had tricked him. She had served him exactly what he had wanted to hear.

That was the paranoia talking. Leonardo shook his head and tried to be more reasonable. He had to think straight, to stop imagining conspiracies everywhere. It was an easy thing to do when you had so much free time on your hands but it wasn't healthy. Leonardo was too used to imagining the worst that could happen, he didn't need extra-motive to aggravate his habit. Sparrow was doing her job, which was to determine if the Turtles were suitable for a normal life among regular people and help them through their time in prison. She was trying to avoid any argument that could lead to isolation and bad reports. She was protecting them.

The guards were still looking at him when Leonardo turned to face them, still a little angry but under control.

"You said you wanted to talk to your shrink about humans," one of the guards said coldly. "You lied to us."

"Yes, I lied," Leonardo admitted, arrogant. "Big surprise: the mutants can lie!"

"Enough, inmate!"

The guards approached, their electric baton ready to strike. Leonardo snorted. He dodged to the left of the first attempt, disarmed both guards at once with a soft kick and a light punch, and then pinned one of the guards against the wall. The other one hesitated for a second and learned in that moment that a second was enough for Leonardo to grab him by the collar and lift him up in the air with a single arm.

"Turtles 101: do not search out trouble with us," Leonardo reminded them. "Understood?"

Both guards nodded and Leonardo released them, taking a few steps back. There was a big chance he'd end up in isolation, now that he was thinking about it. Donatello was right: he was an idiot.

"Over here, sergeant!" someone yelled in an adjacent corridor. Leonardo knew this voice and he had trouble hiding his smirk. The guards jumped like kids caught stealing cookies. They grabbed their baton and looked around but nobody was to be seen. They didn't take their chance nonetheless. The sergeant was strict with the inmates and his staff too. No mistake was tolerated. Two guards having a muscled argument with a prisoner would be severely punished.

"Go back to your cell, inmate!" one guard barked as he started walking.

"It's not over, mutant," the other one hissed at Leonardo. "We'll keep an eye on you."

Leonardo rolled his eyes – as if they were capable of anything against him. All they could do was let him rot in isolation for a few days but Sparrow would get him out of there during her next visit. "They do not have the same reference system", she had said once to get Raphael out of the tiny white cell. "They had to be tough to survive and their attitude can't simply disappear in a few weeks." She wasn't wrong and it annoyed Leonardo even more.

He found Raphael on the way to the cafeteria – their blocks shared time for every meal. He seemed pleased with himself. He could be.

"Thanks," Leonardo said to his brother.

"No problem," Raphael responded with a smirk. "What was that about?"

"They didn't appreciate me lying and not expressing any remorse, apparently."

"Humans," Raphael snorted.

"Tell me about it," Leonardo sighed, amused.

The cafeteria was already full of people, movements and conversations, but nobody really paid attention to the two mutants entering the room. The first days, Raphael and Leonardo had been welcomed by a deep silence and strange looks. That would start again tonight, Leonardo thought, because the Turtles would be four instead of two from now on. The idea made him smile.

"Calm your tits down," Raphael taunted him as they started to wait in the line. "I know you're happy 'cause Donnie comes back today but that's no reason to act like an idiot."

"I can't help it," Leonardo mumbled, a bit ashamed to admit it in front of Raphael.

To Leonardo's surprise, Raphael didn't mock him nor snort or anything. He gave him a small push with his shoulder, smiling too. Raphael wasn't the most effusive of them when it came to his feelings – the good ones, not the anger – so his soft touch meant a lot. He had missed Donatello too.

"You'll share your cell with Don," Leonardo told him as they moved forward.

"I know. Would have liked to be with Mikey though."

"That's what I told Sparrow but she said you'd be less trouble if Don was your cellmate."

"Less trouble," Raphael winced. "I had my share of arguments with Donnie too, y'know? He's annoying when he does his Mister Know-It-All or when he's bitching in his corner. At least Mike and you tell me to my face what's wrong but Don always mumbles for himself. And the guy can wait weeks for his revenge."

"He's not like that with me," Leonardo shrugged.

"'course he's not like that with you," Raphael snorted. "You're the only one around with enough brains to be of any interest for Don."

"I'm not that smart," Leonardo qualified.

"Oh I know you're a pretty stupid fuckhead but you're the kind of stupid Don likes anyway."

It made Leonardo smile like an idiot again and Raphael shook his head in despair.

"You think that'll change?" Leonardo asked as they slowly progressed to the front of the line.

"What'll change?"

"Smart comes in many shapes," Leonardo explained. "Don may find someone more interesting than me to talk to."

"Yeah that's possible," Raphael admitted and Leonardo took the hit. "There are some guys who play chess in the TV room sometimes. I bet he'll massacre them and bitch about it after 'cause it was too easy."

"Probably, yes," Leonardo nodded but it didn't amuse him as much as Raphael. Even here in prison, there were enough people to disturb the dynamic of their family. Leonardo was eager to talk and befriend some inmates, even if they were criminals, but it was clear to him that his family was the priority. He would drop everything for his brothers. But them? What if they find more interesting friends to hang out with? Michelangelo was on his own a lot due to his block's schedule and he had already some acquaintances. He was more easy going, at peace with who he was, what he was. Donatello always had suffered from isolation and Leonardo thought part of his brother's fascination for computers came from that. The Internet allowed Donatello to talk to people, to find intellectual matches, to break his insulation, but, in the end, he had to hide in the sewers with his brothers and rely on them.

Maybe their family was about to break, Leonardo realized. Maybe being out in the world meant to lose his beloved brothers. The thought cut his appetite and clouded his morning. When Powell came to the library to find him for the cell transfer, Leonardo simply nodded and followed the man in silence. Michelangelo was already in their new cell when Leonardo arrived with so little in his hands. His brother had three cardboard boxes with him, plus his sheets on top of it.

"Yo, Leo!" Michelangelo welcomed him with a radiant smile. "Top or bottom bunk for you?"

"I'd prefer the bottom," Leonardo answered as he entered the space. It was one and a half times bigger than his previous cell, two bunk beds on the left, two small lockers and a desk in the middle on the right.

"Yeah, I don't see you as a top kind of guy either," Michelangelo joked as he launched his sheets on his mattress.

"Your obsession for sex will never cease to amaze me," Leonardo commented, starting to put in order his few belongings. Michelangelo jumped on his bed with ease.

"It destabilizes people," he explained, unfolding his sheets. "I like that."

"You're a five foot four talking turtle," Leonardo pointed out. "It's pretty destabilizing already."

"But the look in their eyes when I talk sex!" Michelangelo marveled. "You should try, bro, it's priceless."

"I don't want to talk about sex with strangers," Leonardo mumbled.

"You're not such a prude with your bros though."

Leonardo winced and looked at Michelangelo over his shoulder. He was smiling like a maniac.

"You're in a good mood."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Michelangelo asked. "Today the prodigal son returns!" he added, arms in the air, touching the ceiling.

"I thought I was the prodigal son."

"Wow, don't be so humble Leo," Michelangelo laughed, "think about your ego, buddy."

Leonardo smirked. It was good to know Raphael and Michelangelo shared his excitement. His seemed more legitimate, more normal. They were both equally happy of their brother's return and it enlightened the couple of hours remaining. Michelangelo entertained Leonardo and Raphael during lunch with his latest ideas for stories – he had been writing a lot lately to occupy his lonely hours – and then they moved to the courtyard to enjoy the sun and the weight benches. Raphael had made sure on their first day out that everyone knew the benches were for the Turtles in the beginning of the afternoon. There hadn't been a lot of complains since then.

They lifted weights for an hour or so, not really paying attention to what they were doing. They all kept an eye on the main gate, looking at it more and more often as time passed. Leonardo felt Donatello before smelling or seeing him. He just knew his brother was nearby and he abandoned his dumbbells on the ground to sit on the bench. Raphael mumbled something about his brother having no respect for the material, bending to retrieve it from the unworthy ground, while Michelangelo stopped talking about his awesome character he was developing to turn to face the gate.

Leonardo's heart skipped a beat when he saw Donatello and his body refused to move, as if his muscles had frozen. Michelangelo was the first to run, calling his brother and frightening the inmates around at the same time. Raphael didn't care anymore about the dumbbells and quickly followed. Leonardo took a deep breath and stood up, his body shaking. The first step cost him a lot of effort, his chest on fire and his feet crushed by his own weight, but the second was easier, the third twice as much, and by the fifth he was running too. Michelangelo was already hugging and kissing Donatello on the cheeks, the forehead and the beak with great exaggeration while Raphael was rubbing vigorously his bald head. Donatello seemed happy to endure such treatments, hugging Michelangelo back, not even complaining.

Leonardo found himself waiting for his turn to embrace his brother, not capable of interrupting the reunion. Eventually Michelangelo noticed him and let go of Donatello. Raphael hugged him rapidly with a pat on the head, telling him it was good to see his ugly face once more before the other side and Donatello laughed at it. He wasn't done yet with the physical world, he responded and he finally turned to Leonardo. Their hands connected as they approached each other, and their plastrons touched, the sound softer than usual because of the fabric of their uniforms. Then they hugged, cheek against cheek, breathing each other's smell, savoring the faint warmth of their bodies, the solid and reassuring presence of a best friend. It was real. Donatello was finally here with them, safe and sound. Leonardo felt the past two month's pressure disappear into thin air, as if all of that never happened. It was a lie, he knew it, their troubles were only beginning, but he didn't want to think about it. Only Donatello mattered at the moment.

Leonardo never exactly knew who initiated it but they kissed during their embrace. One moment they were hugging and telling how much they had missed each other, smiling like the big dorks they were, the next their lips were touching and a bolt of lightning struck Leonardo. It wasn't exactly a kiss, not the kind lovers shared, just a soft brush on his lips, and it didn't feel like those Leonardo had experienced in his short life. No, it had been ten times better, if not more. Leonardo would have liked to do it again but his guts froze at the idea and he just rubbed his cheek against Donatello's again, as if it never happened, already burying it deep down, focusing on his brother's smell instead. He had missed that smell so much.

"Aren't they cute," Michelangelo taunted, poking Raphael with his elbow.

"Shut up, Mikey," Leonardo and Donatello responded in unison and they all laughed at the old habit restored.

They broke their embrace eventually, not without regrets. Raphael patted Donatello once more on the back and this time the attention was welcomed with a wince.

"Oh, right," Raphael backed off. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Donatello shook his head. "I relied too much on morphine during my time in the hospital. I should be able to endure such pain."

"You're too hard on yourself," Leonardo scolded him softly.

"No I'm not," Donatello countered. "None of you would have reduced yourselves to drugs to ease the pain. I'm really not proud of it."

"I would have," Michelangelo shrugged. "Pain is information, right?" Donatello nodded but Michelangelo continued before he could explain it all. "We learned how to bypass that info with meditation or just willpower but sometimes it just doesn't work. If morphine or anything helps, what's the big deal? We all need help sometimes. That doesn't make you weak, bro."

Raphael agreed and Leonardo gently squeezed Donatello's hand to approve Michelangelo's argument.

"Thanks, guys," Donatello smiled, incapable of looking them in the eyes.

"Now, show me your scar," Michelangelo asked. "Must be pretty awesome, this one."

"Not to brag but I think you will be jealous," Donatello smirked.

He lifted his top to his armpit to reveal a long and profound arc on his back and continuing on the connection on the bridge, between the shell and the plastron. There was a series of small holes along the entire length of the scar, probably due to surgical clips. Smaller holes were still visible on the plastron where the lizard had bitten Donatello.

"They had to remove a part of my shell," Donatello explained before his mesmerized brothers. "The infection had spread into the muscles between the vital organs and the bones, mostly in the form of pus sacks, but that was the easy part to clean once the surgeons were at it. Some of my bones on my back were too damaged and they had to remove them."

"So you're missing bones under your shell?" Leonardo asked.

"They replaced it with an experimental foam, actually," Donatello responded.

"They did what?" Raphael growled.

"I was willing to try," Donatello soothed him, lowering his top, "and it had been used on humans before. It's just not a popular method to repair bones, doctors usually prefer to let it grow back and mine will eventually. The foam was made out of my bones, it will be integrated as it grows back."

"So your shell is not as strong as it was because of that foam, right?" Leonardo understood.

"It's on a titanium frame, actually."

"You're a cyborg," Michelangelo realized, eyes sparkling with envy.

"If you refer to the common definition and not the sci-fi one, yes, I am a cyborg."

"This is awesome."

"This is not awesome," Leonardo grunted. "Don has metallic plates in his back."

"Frame," Donatello corrected, "not plates."

"He's like an armored turtle," Michelangelo insisted. "A cybernetic armored turtle!"

"How is that awesome?" Leonardo asked, frowning. "He spent a month at the hospital!"

"Five weeks," Donatello pointed out.

"Your brother is a cyborg and you don't think it's awesome? What's wrong with you Leo?"

"What he had to endure..."

"It wasn't great," Donatello interrupted, "but it wasn't that bad either. Sure, I had my share of pain but people were pretty nice to me. Once they got used to me, I wasn't just a big green curiosity, I was a person to their eyes and we talked and it made my time at the hospital certainly more pleasant that yours here. But I missed you, brothers, and I'm glad I am finally with you, no matter the conditions."

"Wait til you taste the food and we'll talk about conditions," Michelangelo joked. "It's not that bad, way better than Leo's cooking, but..."

"Oi," Leonardo winced.

Michelangelo smirked, which wasn't an excuse at all but it made Donatello smile so Leonardo forgot the apologies needed.

"Can we train here?" Donatello asked, going back to business. "I've sat on my butt for five weeks after a month of sleep. I seriously need to move."

"Yeah, now that you mention it, you look fat," Michelangelo commented, rubbing his chin.

"I do not," Donatello responded, offended.

"We can train, yes," Leonardo intervened. "As long as it stays between us four, there will be no problem with the guards."

"So what are we waiting for?"

"Ha, Donnie-boy," Raphael sighed, smiling. "So impatient, so reckless."

Quick as a snake, Donatello twisted Raphael's arm and the tallest had no choice but to follow the movement if he wanted to avoid a dislocated shoulder, putting a knee to the ground, but he was laughing. Michelangelo took a few steps back and got into position, a low and open one which he favored over the years for its offering of next movements. Leonardo wanted to fight on Donatello's side but his brother shook his head and Leonardo had no choice but to back off. It would be three on one then. Leonardo put his feet firmly on the ground, straightened his back and took a much stronger position than Michelangelo's to clearly state his intentions: no mercy. Donatello smiled back at him. He let go of Raphael's arm and kicked the top of his shell to make him roll on the ground. Raphael stood up, faced his brother with a strong stance, presenting him his side, and Donatello replied with a more relaxed posture.

"What are you waiting for?" he taunted. "Afraid I'll kick your asses?"

Leonardo exchanged a look with Raphael and Michelangelo, who shrugged. Well then, Leonardo thought and he attacked.


"I may have been too presumptuous," Donatello admitted across the table, and it made Raphael smile. His brother had as much hematomas and scratches as them all but he looked more tired, Raphael noted. At his left, Michelangelo was practically jumping up and down like a puppy incapable of containing itself in front of food, but it had more to deal with sharing a meal with his brothers after an eternity than the quality of dinner, and Leonardo, on Donatello's left, was smiling like an idiot ever since the moment their brother had come back. His split lip didn't stop him even if that one had to be dolorous.

"Yep, we kicked your ass," Michelangelo replied, starting his dinner with chocolate pudding.

Donatello looked at him for a second then to his tray with mashed potatoes, fried chicken nuggets, some green beans with an unidentified green sauce, a slice of orange and the pudding. He winced.

"You need to eat, Donnie," Leonardo scolded him.

"I'm not that hungry," Donatello responded. "Besides, I can lose a few kilograms, it seems."

Leonardo exchanged a look with Raphael and they both put their puddings on Donatello's tray. He always had been a little difficult on the food but he had a thing for sugar. Eating only pudding for dinner was better than not eating at all.

"You'll get used to it," Raphael said, digging in his mashed potatoes.

"Can we take over the kitchens, like the Latinos in Orange Is the New Black?" Donatello asked very seriously while opening his first pudding with reluctance. He was obviously making plans already.

"We asked if we could participate in something, like the library or the kitchen," Leonardo explained, "but the director didn't approve. He's afraid we'd take advantage of it."

"He's right, I'd totally take advantage of the kitchen if I could," Michelangelo intervened. "I'm dying for some beef bourguignon. Or some filet mignon. Or roasted pork with honey and balsamic vinegar. Or better, duck!"

"You and your French cuisine," Raphael mumbled.

"You don't complain when you eat it," Michelangelo taunted, poking him with his elbow. Raphael pushed him a little to make him stop.

"That's all meat," Donatello commented.

"Rice goes well with everything," Michelangelo thought out loud. "And I'd make some veggies with it, don't worry."

"Not kale though."

"Not kale," Michelangelo swore with a hand raised.

Donatello smiled a little. He would have eaten only vegetables if it had been an option – exception made for kale – but their diet was mostly based on what they found in the city's dumpsters and the energy they needed. Meat procured much more proteins than rotten carrots and potatoes.

"But we can't do shit around," Raphael resumed. "For now it's okay, we can go outside, but I don't know what we'll do during winter."

"Ask for a transfer to Florida," Michelangelo proposed, dipping a nugget into his pudding before gulping it.

"We'd lose Miller, Sparrow and Wolfe," Leonardo shook his head. "And April."

"Did you see her?" Donatello asked.

"No, we're not allowed to have visitors," Raphael grunted.

"For now," Leonardo corrected. "Did you?"

"No visitors either," Donatello answered, "only the authorized staff, Professor Sparrow, Miss Wolfe and Lieutenant Miller. Oh and those guys who tried to kill me, once, but I doubt they were on any list."

Raphael blinked and looked at Donatello who kept eating his pudding like he hadn't just dropped a bomb. Michelangelo stopped goofing around and Leonardo looked like he was ready to get out of there, find those guys and kill them without a blink. His fists were trembling on the table.

"Care to elaborate?" Raphael asked to avoid Leonardo's outburst. He was too sensitive when it came to Donatello. That wasn't very professional.

"Religious fanatics," Donatello shrugged. "Well, Christians, to be accurate, but this country has a fascinating number of sects."

"Why the Hell has nobody told us about this?" Leonardo exploded, his voice so powerful it surprised the prisoners around their table. Raphael glanced at them to keep the curious away.

"To avoid that kind of reaction," Donatello answered mater-of-factually, pointing his plastic spoon to Leonardo. "We knew you would be furious..."

"Of course I am!" Leonardo interrupted.

"… and we didn't want to provoke a stupid reaction," Donatello continued, "like you three getting out of here and going back to New York on your own, because, let's be honest, you would have done that as soon as you'd knew."

Leonardo wanted to contradict that statement but a look from Donatello made him close his mouth. Of course they would have run to New York to protect their brother but it would have brought a lot of trouble. Even Raphael knew it. They had to keep quiet and behave correctly. It didn't please him but they had no other option for now. Donatello wasn't strong enough yet to endure any adventures. He needed rest and training but time would come for them to reconsider the question of their future.

"We?" Michelangelo pointed out.

"It was a common decision between me, Professor Sparrow and Lieutenant Miller."

"I don't get that Sparrow," Leonardo mumbled.

"She's a very smart woman," Donatello commented. "I like her."

Leonardo winced, as if Donatello had slapped him, and turned his anger on his tray, digging aggressively in it. Raphael arched an eye ridge. Leonardo rarely acted like he had today, like a child. It was destabilizing to see him like that but Raphael couldn't just take him by the collar and shake him until it cleared his head. That wouldn't work.

To be honest, he didn't know what to do to help Leonardo to get back on his feet. When Raphael was in a bad mood, his brothers usually gave him space and time at some point, so he decided to do the same with Leonardo. He'd let him deal with his feelings himself but be present if his brother needed to talk – or a serious kick in the butt. Raphael wasn't exactly a good adviser but he knew how to listen anyway.

But Leonardo was generally the one they all counted on, the reasonable one. They needed someone like that at the table right now, someone who'd keep his head cool. It wouldn't be Michelangelo, Raphael realized as he saw his brother stealthily steeling Donatello's nuggets, and it wouldn't be Donatello either as he was the subject of all their attention. Fuck me, Raphael grunted for himself. He was in for being the responsible big brother for a while. He hated that, it was exhausting and his brothers always were mad at him at some point. He didn't know how Leonardo managed to both be on their asses but not be hated at the same time.

"What happened to those guys, the fanatics?" Raphael asked. He needed that information. If Donatello had killed them, it could lead to a lot of problems.

"I took them down," Donatello shrugged. "Just down, I didn't kill them. It wasn't much of a challenge, even if I was chained to the bed."

"You were chained?" Leonardo exploded again.

"Of course I was," Donatello answered, frowning. "And there were at least twenty guards around my room at any given time, and they came inside with the staff too, allowing me no privacy at all. That's what we get when we brag about how strong and deadly we are."

Another slap for Leo, Raphael thought. The previous one was self-inflicted but this one was a dreadful hit. Donatello suggested Leonardo's strategy hadn't been a good one. By the look on Leonardo's face, the honeymoon was over.

"I did what I could to insure our survival," he responded coldly.

"I'm sure you did," Donatello looked away.

"But your plan was better, wasn't it?"

"It was different."

"Of course it was different!" Michelangelo interrupted, smiling like an idiot to ease the mood. "We're all different and we don't do everything the same way. Like, Raph always puts too much pepper in everything or I don't wash the dishes with hot water or, I don't know, but it's totally normal!"

"I didn't know you'd be sick," Leonardo continued, teeth clenched.

"And here we go again," Donatello sighed, "our great leader taking all the blame for himself."

"Enough, Donatello," Raphael ordered. "And you too, Leonardo. What happened happened, we can't change it and we have to focus on the future."

Donatello had the decency to look ashamed of himself but Leonardo only seemed more angry. He stood up and went straight for the exit. No guard dared to stop him nor to remind him he had to bring his tray back to the kitchen's front.

"Great," Michelangelo mumbled. "I have to share my room with him, you know?"

"Yeah and I'm starting to think it's a good idea," Raphael grunted. "Why did you tell him that, Donnie?"

"I felt like it," he shrugged.

"You felt like it," Raphael repeated, rubbing his eyes.

"Leo's not always right but I think there is other ways to tell him than bitching," Michelangelo commented, much more serious. "He's quite sensitive on his leading capacities. He doubts a lot, actually."

"I know and it wasn't my intention," Donatello corrected. "He just..." He winced and rubbed his left shoulder. "I know I'm not at my best and I already feel like I'm letting you down, guys. I don't need Leo on top of that to act like I am some sort of damsel in distress. I can still take care of myself."

"Bruised ego against bruised ego," Michelangelo simplified. "When I said you were cute..."

"That doesn't sound like you," Raphael commented.

"I'm not in the best mood possible lately," Donatello admitted. "I had a lot of time to think, like you I guess, and I found more questions and doubts than solutions."

"Can we help?" Michelangelo asked, genuinely preoccupied.

Donatello gave him a poor smile.

"I'm afraid I have to deal with my own shit but thanks, Mike."

Michelangelo nodded, certainly as curious as Raphael was about that shit Donatello had mentioned. It wasn't very much like Donatello to not find a solution to a problem – nor to use such word. It had to be related to something too personal to share. Again, Raphael wondered what it could possibly be but he shrugged it out. Donatello would talk when he'd have a satisfactory answer. He wasn't the kind of guy to ask for help for his personal problems, or he would go to Splinter for that.

But Splinter was missing, so said Casey and April in their letters. It didn't quite surprise Raphael. He always knew they would be on their own some day and that day had come, but he had pictured it because of their master's death. Raphael knew in his gut Splinter was still alive, somewhere. Karai may have trapped them and she may have known where they lived but Splinter was too smart and too powerful for a bunch of smelly Feet. Splinter couldn't just have abandoned them like that, just because they were in trouble. Raphael preferred to think his master had to hide somewhere for a while.

They hadn't talk about it yet. Raphael had tried to bring up the subject once at dinner with Leonardo but his brother had just pushed it away. Donatello had been pretty clear during the night of their capture: he didn't believe Splinter would ever come to help them; it was a waste of time to ask him again. Raphael hadn't had the courage to talk about Splinter with Michelangelo yet. He knew his brother thought that Splinter didn't like him as much as the others and it deeply affected Michelangelo, even if he rarely spoke about it.

Good thing they had Sparrow around now, Raphael thought as they finished their meal with meaningless chit-chat. They were all in for years of therapy just to deal with their now ended ninja carrier, and many more for those to come, if they were to survive so long. Knowing that fanatics had tried to kill Donatello while he was at the hospital wasn't a good sign. It could happen again, even in that prison. There had to be one or two guys around willing to spend some more years in there for a decent amount of money. They could come, Raphael thought with confidence, scanning the vast room as they stood up, trays in hands. He had no problem killing scumbags to protect his family.

They spent their common time giving a tour to Donatello with a lot of comments before the curfew. Michelangelo then took the direction of his new cell, saying hello to a few guys on the way. Raphael shook his head. How Michelangelo managed to befriend humans so easily was a real mystery for him – how he ended up in hot chicks' beds was an even bigger enigma, one Raphael wasn't eager to solve. Raphael headed for his cell in silence, Donatello by his side, looking around and studying the configuration of the corridors. They all did that when they arrived, it was an automatism.

"I suppose the ventilation is less than fifty centimeters in diameter," Donatello said when they arrived to their cell.

Raphael rapidly converted: fifty centimeters equaled around twenty inches. Donatello never used pounds and inches. He liked the metric system, which was much more logical to him and the vast majority of the world. Leonardo and Michelangelo had gotten used to it over the years and used that system too now but Raphael never quite acquired the taste of it. He knew what it was but he preferred using his own country's system.

"Yeah, it's too small for us to go in it, us or any adult human," Raphael responded, keeping an eye on the corridor in case someone was too interested in their conversation.

"I sometimes regret not being a midget anymore," Donatello sighed.

"I don't," Raphael mumbled, folding his arms. "Having April's breast at eye-level was fucking distracting."

"Now you can look down at her rack though," Donatello smirked.

"I cannot. She's a friend."

Donatello shrugged, knowing perfectly well that there was more under those words. Repressed feelings were a common disease in their family.

Donatello only had his welcoming pack on his locker, which was composed of a toothbrush, some toothpaste, a cup, a small piece of soap, a rough towel, a second uniform and the sheets for his bed. Raphael had already made his on the top bunk. He didn't want Donatello to roll and fall or to hurt himself somehow just because of a stupid bed.

"You're sleeping downstairs," Raphael pointed out.

"So it seems but..."

"Did your hear me asking which bunk you wanted?"

"No," Donatello answered carefully.

"So you're sleeping downstairs."

Raphael just had to jump to land on his bed. He removed his shoes and crossed his legs on the covers, marking his territory. Donatello hated this kind of manly demonstration so he rolled his eyes and started making his own bed.

"So, huh, wanna talk about stuff?" Raphael asked awkwardly.

"Sure," Donatello complied. "What stuff?"

"I dunno. Stuff. Like, what did you do at the hospital?"

"Read, most of the time," Donatello answered, folding his sheets. "Oh and I revised some graduate's paper. It's a wonder he achieved med school with his spelling. He also made some mistakes in pretty basic dissolution equations. I'm tempted to go to med school, it doesn't look like it's too complicated."

Raphael blinked and bent over to look at his brother's half back under his bed.

"You want to go to school?"

"Why not?" Donatello responded. "We'll have to do something with our lives and I don't want to end up in a circus. Diplomas'll help. I want plenty of them, a whole wall of them. And a Nobel price. Or two. Two would be nice."

"We don't even know if we'll get out of here," Raphael grunted.

"We will." Donatello took a step back before straightening his back to catch Raphael's gaze. "I see you as a surgeon."

"Shut your mouth," Raphael replied, shoving his foot on Donatello's face.

"You look like Doctor McDreamy with the correct light," his brother insisted, backing off to escape the offender.

"Do I need to get down to make you shut up?"

"It was a compliment," Donatello pleaded. "I would never mock my favorite brother."

"That's it," Raphael decided. He jumped out of bed and caught Donatello in a headlock before his brother could escape, then rubbed his phalanges on his bald head. Donatello was laughing and it felt terribly good to hear him. Unfortunately, a guard passed by and told them to keep quiet. The gate automatically closed a few seconds later and Raphael lost his desire to play. Reality once again hit him in the face. Hard.

"We'll get out of here," Donatello told him with a pat on the shoulder. "We have a strategy."

"A strategy," Raphael snorted, climbing back on his bed to lie on his back.

Donatello approached and put his arms on the mattress.

"It's a good one. I just have to talk to Leo to finalize it. I want his opinion."

"Why didn't you talk about it with him before yelling at him then?" Raphael asked.

"I didn't want to bring up the subject too early," Donatello responded. "I wanted to have a good time with my brothers before talking business."

"And how did that work out, huh?"

"Not great," Donatello admitted, lowering his eyes.

"Don't worry," Raphael reassured him, turning to his side. "He'll come around."

"I know, I know, it's just..."

Sometimes, Donatello needed just a little push to keep talking instead of staying stuck in his head, ruminating his dark thoughts.

"Just?" Raphael pushed.

"Not what I imagined it would be," Donatello continued, unaware of his brother's trick. "Our reunion. I thought it'd be less dolorous."

"Dolorous?" Raphael continued to prompt.

"Hmm," Donatello hummed, retreating back into his mind.

That one, Raphael couldn't repeat it so he had to elaborate a little to pull his brother back out. "Physically or mentally?"

Donatello's red eyes suddenly focused again and he looked at Raphael.

"You beat me up pretty good," he reproached him.

That was it. Donatello wasn't going to follow his thoughts anymore and he wouldn't talk about it again. Raphael had no choice but to act casual and let it drop.

"Yep," he smiled. "You wanted it, we delivered, Donnie-boy."

"I just got out of the hospital."

"You won't guilt-trip me, brother, not today. Now, go to bed, the lights will be off in a minute and the guards'll be on our asses if we don't shut up."

"So you respect rules now," Donatello mocked as he disappeared under Raphael's bed. "What happened to you must have been pretty terrible."

"Yeah, that's called growing up."

Donatello laughed. The corridor went dark but there was still some people whispering here and there. Raphael could hear them all.

"Do we have to take turns?" Donatello asked in a low voice.

"Maybe. Dunno. You wanna?"

"I'd prefer, yes."

"I'll take the first shift then. I'll wake you up later."

"Thanks, Raph. Good night."

"Yeah, good night, Donnie."

Raphael turned on his back and sat up on his bed, facing the grate. He didn't have a good view on the corridor though so he decided to go sit at the desk. Once there, he had a pretty good view of what was happening around. Donatello was already asleep. Ninja training had its advantages. They had learned to sleep on command for a determined number of hours, a restful sleep without dreams, good or bad. They usually relied on that kind of sleep when they had too many thoughts in their heads, which happened a lot lately. Raphael hadn't had a dream for more than two months now and he wondered if he was still capable of dreaming or sleeping naturally.

He would tell that to Sparrow tomorrow, that would make her day. She was always happy to discover their resemblance with humans on the mind side. Must have reassured her or something, he didn't know. She didn't seem impressed by them otherwise. Raphael could bark at her and try to intimidate her by his sheer force, she didn't care. He had stopped after a while, he was wasting his energy for nothing. The shrink wasn't that bad anyway. She was quiet and steady, a rock in the storm, and Raphael needed that, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud. Maybe Sparrow was winning because of his weakness for quietude.

Raphael looked at Donatello for a moment then turned his attention back to the corridor. Sparrow had been right. Raphael knew Leonardo would have been irritated at the idea of Sparrow knowing them so well already but he didn't mind it. On the contrary, he was relieved to have her on their side. She wasn't family, nor a friend. He could talk freely to her because it was her job to listen to people and not giving her Goddamn opinion. She wouldn't look down at him when he was angry, nor scold him for being too passionate.

Raphael sighed in the dark, shifting position. Yep, he was in for the rest of his fucking life.


To be continued

Title: roller coasters