True to his word, Leonardo didn't interfere with David for the rest of the day, and he didn't allow his brothers to do so either. David made the most of his freedom.

First, he learned the layout of the house. It seemed to go on forever, the rooms so large David was convinced they contained previously-unknown dimensions. And there were so many of them. Four bedrooms. Two full bathrooms. Two living rooms and a study. A spacious kitchen and a separate dining room. Closets so large he would have mistaken them for rooms if they'd contained furniture instead of a jumble of strange items.

The third floor turned out to be an attic. It contained piles of tools, and antique toys, and spare parts - to exactly what, David couldn't even tell - and a sewing machine and what appeared to be the remains of family pets.

There were also trunks of old clothes. The contents were so musty that David thought he would seriously consider going naked before putting them on. There was nothing that would fit him anyway.

He liberated a wrench and went back downstairs, to where his brothers were lounging in the front living room.

"This place is huge," he said. "I mean, two bathrooms? Technically I have two at home, but one's in the clinic. I tried to talk my mom into using that one, and the one upstairs would be mine, but so far she hasn't gone for it."

"Do you want the upstairs bathroom?" Leonardo asked, without looking up from the book he was reading - an ancient paperback selected from the extensive, if somewhat dated, collection lining the shelves in the study. "We can use the one down here."

"That would be great," David said.

Too, too easy.

He went down to the basement next. He got distracted by the furnaces for a while - one wood-burning and one for gas, he had never seen a set-up like that - before he remembered what he came down here for.

Later in the day, he hung out in the kitchen, watching Michelangelo shred, dry, boil, and mash parts of various plants.

"What are these?" David asked.

Michelangelo pointed to the specimens spread out on the long counter. "Stomach calm. Clean blood. No sick. Zen mind. Heart strong."

"Really?" David raised a brow. "Are those their botanical names?"

Michelangelo shrugged. "It doesn't matter what you call them, right? It matters what they do." He smiled. "And you said they're working." He continued his preparations, apparently unconcerned by his lack of knowledge about the ingredients.

"How do you know what they do?" David asked.

Mike popped another baking sheet into the oven. "Master Splinter taught me."

"And how does he know?"

"Watching Tang Shen," Mike said, referring to the woman Leonardo had mentioned in his story.

"Is that so?" David crossed his arms. "This completely ordinary rat mastered martial arts and the making of herbal medicines. Was he also accomplished in orbital mechanics, architecture, and composing piano concertos?"

"No," Mike said, "but he's a damn good dad and you shouldn't talk about him like that." He paused, resting the pestle in the bowl, and looked at David with a sad expression. "What's your deal, bro? Has your life been that bad, that you just hate everyone?"

"I don't hate everyone," David said.

"You sure seem to hate us." Mike resumed his work, but with somewhat less energy than before. "Is it something we said?"

"It's everything you said," David replied. "How am I supposed to believe any of this?"

"Uh," said Mike, "don't take this the wrong way, but you believed you're a human who looks like a big turtle."

"Exactly," David said, "and now you're telling me I'm a turtle who's mostly like a human. How is that a more plausible story?"

Mike put down his tools and gave David a hug.

After a long moment, David put his arms around Mike. And after a moment longer, he said, "Oh. So that's what it's like to hug someone with a shell."

"You believe what you want to believe, bro," Mike said, retrieving his dried plants from the oven as though nothing special had just happened. "You do what you want to do. We just hope we get to be part of it, because whoever we are, wherever we came from, it's hard to deny we're some kind of family. And we think that matters a lot."

David was silent, watching the two mixtures developing on the kitchen counter. "Why are you making two different things?" he asked, after a while.

"Cuz one would just be lonely," Mike said.

"No, seriously," David said.

Mike pushed a pile of leaves slowly towards the back of the counter, as though doing so might make the question go away. "You gotta ask Leo," he said, when David's steady gaze made it clear that outright evasion was not going to work.

After dinner, David sidled up to Leonardo, who lingered by the kitchen window after Mike and Raph took off for an evening run.

"So," he said. "You seem to be the person in charge around here."

"I am," Leonardo said, and there was a weight in his voice David couldn't quite parse.

"I'm impressed," David said. "You planned and executed a kidnapping and escape from the city, you found us a nice place to stay, and you're more or less keeping order. And you're - how old?"

"Fifteen," Leo said.

"Fif-" David began to echo, before his brain caught up with what he was saying. "Wait. How can you be fifteen? I'm fifteen."

"I know you are," said Leo. He still hadn't looked away from the window. "So are Mike and Raph."

David furrowed his brow. "Are you saying we're quadruplets?"

Leo shrugged. "That's how it works with turtles."

David moved back towards the table, and Leo followed him. "Is that what all of this is about?" he asked. "Trying to convince me I'm a turtle?"

"We're not here to convince you of anything," Leonardo said, as he settled back into one of the chairs. "You are what you are. We're just trying to give you some time to accept it."

"I -" David started, but Leonardo cut him off, sliding a hand over his.

"David, we understand. We know what it's like, to be this way. Do you think we haven't wanted to be human?" He shook his head. "Forget what Raph said. We've had a lot of time to think about this, and we've decided it's better to stay the way we are." He held David's gaze. "We don't want you to rush into a decision you'll regret. The treatment you told us about… it will be there later."

David looked away. "Leo, this isn't a hard decision for me. There's nothing about this that I want."

"Give us a chance," Leonardo said. "If you still feel that way in a few days, what have you lost?"

David squeezed his eyes shut. "Only a few days? And then I can go home?"

"Of course," Leonardo said.

David looked at his brother again, reading his expression carefully. "And what are we going to be doing for those few days?"

Leonardo leaned forward, spreading his hands on the table. "David," he said. "I know what you're doing. I didn't get where I am by telling everyone what my plans are." The side of his mouth quirked up as he pushed out of his chair. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Way to build trust, Leo," David murmured to the empty room.