You would not believe how difficult this chapter was to write! I ended up totally rewriting. This was supposed to be the Shadow/Donatello chapter, but the turtles had other plans it turned out. There's a lot of dialogue in this chapter, but we got some hurt/comfort too! This is also the longest chapter I have written in a long time. So why are you reading this AN? Go read the chapter!

Over the next several days Shadow found himself settling into a relatively comfortable routine, even if he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself outside morning and evening practice. After gaining explicit permission he continued his early training regime, after which he joined the others for their morning practice as well. The one surprise was when Raphael and Donatello both asked if he would be willing to provide some one-on-one instruction for them as well.

"You're a magnificent teacher," Raphael informed him when he approached Shadow about it. "I think Michelangelo learned more from you in one morning than he has over the past several years from our sensei. On top of that, you have a shell of a lot of skill; I think we could learn a lot from you."

At first, Shadow wasn't sure what to say. After all, if his masters wanted him to share his expertise, it was his duty to do so. But that wasn't how his new masters saw it.

"You have every right to say no," Raphael told him. "If it's not something you're comfortable with, we're not going to force you to do it."

It would be my pleasure, Shadow replied, using the bond to answer. After his experience with Michelangelo, the quartet had done some testing and determined Shadow could communicate with all of them through the bond, though only Raphael didn't require physical contact.

Thus it was that all of the younger turtles started receiving solo instruction during one of their twice daily workouts. Shadow found only was he a natural teacher, but he truly enjoyed it. For the first time he could remember, Shadow felt good about himself as he discovered he had a value beyond what his master had ever bestowed him.

TMTNT

So here he was, several days into this new way of life. In all ways this new life seemed too good to be true. Shadow spent nearly every minute waiting for the other shoe to drop. Things couldn't go this smoothly forever; eventually his new masters would show their true colors. One afternoon sitting around the kitchen table, it seemed that moment had come; at least, it came across that way to the sensitive and vulnerable Shadow, as he was forced to expose the dark, brutal, and sordid reality of his former life.

As with most of these of these types of situations, the crisis spiraled out of control from such a small beginning. Michelangelo was making brownies, and used the last of both the milk and the eggs. Since both Raphael and Donatello had their hands full, he naturally handed the grocery list to Shadow and asked him to add the necessary items to it.

Shadow could only stare at the paper in front of him in panicked horror. Writing was forbidden to the trainees in his former master's world. They had been taught to speak and read dozens of languages from an equal number of worlds, but any trainee or drudge caught using or even attempting to use written communication was publicly flogged, followed by a three day minimum sentence on public display in the Position of Submission. Shadow had made that mistake only once; the pain and the trauma and the humiliation had been bad enough even now the thought of attempting to write nearly sent him into a panic attack.

Turning an alarmed gaze to Raphael, Shadow desperately sent, I can't.

"You can't what," Raphael asked distractedly as he continued to clean his weapons and gear.

Write, Shadow explained. I can't write.

That made Raphael look up sharply, drawing Donatello's attention from the laptop he was fiddling with. "What is he saying," he asked.

"He says he can't write," Raphael related.

Donatello whirled to stare at Shadow. The look of horrified disgust on the purple-masked turtle's face was fierce enough Shadow violently flinched back in instinctive response. Donatello didn't notice as he launched into a hostile diatribe. "This is preposterous! How can you not know how to write? You can read; I've seen you do it. How can you possibly know how to do one but not the other? This is lunacy!"

By this time, Shadow was all but cowering on the floor. Shame and humiliation, hot and sharp, poured through him, even as Donatello's revulsion and disgust lacerated his mind through the bond. The pain was severe enough he didn't hear Michelangelo snap at his older brother,

"Donatello, get it together, bro. You're hurting him!"

Shadow was aware of Raphael, who had come to crouch in front of the distressed turtle.

Shh, he sent as he rubbed a gentle hand over Shadow's trembling knee. It's okay. You'll be alright. Just breathe.

Shadow lifted pained, tormented eyes to meet Raphael's sympathetic gaze. The agitated turtle was taken aback when he suddenly found himself enfolded in a loose hug. It was startling enough to jolt him out of his slightly hysterical mindset. He couldn't remember ever being held like this. Part of him felt like he should feel trapped, but all he felt was cared for. To Shadow's horror, involuntary tears began to trickle down his face. He fought the urge, but he finally gave in and buried his face in Raphael's shoulder. Even if it didn't last, if it proved ultimately to be false, he couldn't deny himself the comfort in this moment.

It seemed like the tears and emotions poured out of him forever, but Shadow was finally able to get himself back under control. Still, he remained huddled into the protection embrace that felt like the only thing that was preventing him from falling apart.

You've had a hard week, haven't you, Raphael asked softly as he stroked a gentle hand up and down the tattooed turtle's shell. You were hurt fighting Bishop and protection us, and then you ended up abandoned here where life is nothing like you're familiar with and you've had to struggle just to stay afloat. Frankly, I'm surprised you haven't broken down before now.

I don't understand any of this, Shadow confessed brokenly. I'm an abandoned trainee, a Drudge, but you treat me like…like…

Like a person, Michelangelo suggested, suddenly making Shadow aware the youngest turtle was kneeling next to his brother, rubbing soft circles on the back of the older turtle's left hand.

Yes, Shadow said. My former master always treated me like a 'thing' he could use or abuse as he liked. I had no worth beyond what he allowed me to have. I was fortunate he saw me worthy enough to be accepted as a trainee; to be trained as a Shadow Hunter was very magnanimous of him. It was the highest honor a trainee could be given, yet ultimately I proved unworthy of it.

A sudden tight grip on his right shoulder brought Shadow's attention to a much calmer Donatello. You were repeatedly beaten, mentally and emotionally abused, physically mutilated, and psychically enslaved against your will, and you're the unworthy one? Once again disgust filled his tone, but this time Shadow could properly sense the emotion was aimed at his abuser rather than at him.

I have no real memories of my past, Shadow explained. My master told me he rescued me from certain death, so I owe him my life. Rather than selling me, or make me a drudge right from the start, he trained me as a Shadow Hunter. It is an exacting discipline, but every mark I carry on my body represent mastery of a mental or physical element as outlined by its precepts. Only one other trainee came as close to mastering it as I have.

Bishop, Raphael said, realization dawning on him.

The Traitor, yes, Shadow confirmed. No one knows how, but he managed to somehow break his bond with his master and then he turned on him. He killed his master and several others as he fled. I was given the task of hunting him down and either eliminating him, or returning him for judgment; it was my sworn duty. When I chose to protect you three rather than pursue him, I broke my oath. As a consequence, my master severed our bond, making me a Drudge.

Somewhere in the middle of the discussion, the turtles had ended up huddled on the floor. Sensing Shadow's increasing distress at the topic under discussion, they made the silent decision to move to the living room where they could get more comfortable, while keeping their distraught new friend in the middle where they could all maintain contact with him.

Once they were settled, Raphael asked the question he and his brothers had been pondering for several days now. What are these Drudges you keep mentioning?

Drudges are the lowest of the low, Shadow explained. They are dishonored and discarded trainees. It is an agonizing, degrading life; many of them ultimately kill themselves to escape it.

Why, Michelangelo asked, genuinely wanting to know.

When one is accepted as a trainee, your master forges a psychic bond with you. Through this psychic bond, he is not only connected to your mind and emotions, but your whole nervous system as well. He controls and filters all of the environmental stimulus you are subjected to. Any chance of doing so naturally is shattered by the bond. A Drudge doesn't have a master to provide that filter or control. Additionally, as a trainee, you get accustomed to that steady presence at the back of your mind. When it's gone, you're left with this deep, aching void in its place. At the same time, your mind and nervous system feel like they are being shredded by red hot knives, every minute of every day, since there is no one regulating the stimulus you are exposed to, and you are physically unable to do it yourself. The agony is beyond belief, and a Drudge is willing to do anything to gain even a moment's relief. The degradation I have seen other drudges submit to just to secure even a temporary bond would sicken you if I told you.

You really are dependent on us, aren't you, Donatello said, thoughtfully. Not only that, but we have the power and potential to hurt you badly.

Yes, Shadow said simply. From the moment the bond tied me to each of you, my fate was set. By necessity the three of you became the center of my world because I am now and forever dependent on you. There was a tangible shift in his demeanor and his tone became pointedly formal as he continued, My body is thine to use; my mind is thine to command; my will is thine to direct. There is no me but what thou grandest me.

It was the same oath he'd been required to take when first accepted as a trainee. His master had made him recite it endless times while being punished to drive the message home. It had been his living reality for as long as he could remember. His new companions, however, had a far different reaction.

No, Raphael declared. I told you before; you are no slave, and we are not your masters.

If you reject me, then I am nothing, Shadow replied in despair. All I am good for is serving.

"You are not 'nothing,'" Raphael told him aloud, drawing the distraught turtle closer to his side, even as the others snuggled in closer. "You are a member of our family now; our brother."

I know nothing of being part of a family, or a brother, Shadow told them.

"Then let us teach you."

So, I was trying to establish just how little self-worth and self-esteem Shadow/Leo has. I don't know if it worked or not. Oh, and I haven't forgotten the whole "not able to write" thing. We'll take care of that next chapter, when we finally get the Donatello interaction and flashback.