Okay, I totally blame this monster chapter on my reviewer who asked for more angst and Leo-torture. I had the chapter all written and ready to be typed up when I got the review. Of course, my muse started turning flips, and I ended up completely re-writing the middle of this chapter. I couldn't find a place I liked to separate it, so you got the whole thing in one fell swoop.
T-17 age warning on this chapter. There's is some slight self-inflicted violence, though nothing graphic, and there is discussion of a mature topic; again nothing graphic. If you don't want to read it, skip the very short section between the **.
As the brothers finally began to draw apart, Donatello grabbed Shadow by the hand and said, "The first lesson I think I need to demonstrate is that families apologize when they hurt one another. So I'm sorry for earlier. I never meant to hurt or scare you. I was just shocked, and a little outraged, you don't know how to write, when I know for certain you do know how to read. But that doesn't excuse the vitriol I subjected you to. And my outrage wasn't aimed at you, but at the bastard that purposefully handicapped you."
"What I don't get is why go to all the trouble to teach a slave to read, if you're not going to also teach 'em to write," Michelangelo commented from his position on Shadow's other side where he had his hand loosely interlaced with the mute turtle's.
It was another way to control us, Shadow said. Reading and speaking a variety of languages was essential for us in performing our duties, especially if we were sent on missions off-world. Since our masters could just pull and information they might need or desire straight from our minds through the bond, it wasn't like we needed to provide written reports.
"It was also another way to keep you dependent on and chained to them," Donatello observed. "They gave you just enough skills to be useful to them, but not enough to allow you any independence or self-expression."
"So, just how many languages can you speak and read," Raphael asked from where he was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, leaning companionably against Shadow's leg.
The silent turtle did a quick tally in his head. 42, including 15 Terran dialects other than this one. The other 27 are comprised of various languages and sub-dialects from across the galaxy.
Donatello gave an appreciative whistle. "I'm impressed," he said. "That is some serious talent and brainpower. Something tells me I'd have a run for my money in the genius category if we were to test you."
I had never given it much thought, Shadow said. They came so naturally, and I didn't earn any punishment, so that was all that mattered to me. He paused for a moment, gathering his courage, before hesitatingly asking, Do you think you could teach me? To write, that is. I…I would like to break this chain of ignorance that is tying me down.
As look of sheer pleasure filled Donatello's face, Shadow once again experienced one of those bizarre time slips.
"Good job, Donny," child-Shadow was saying, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze the back of his brother' neck.
Donny leaned into the touch. "I only learned that kick because you help me. Sensei had to focus so much on Mikey that he didn't have time to help me."
"You'd have gotten it," child-Shadow said. "But I'm glad I could help. Now, there's something I was hoping you'd be able to help me with."
"Anything," Donny said.
"It's these fractions sensei was working with us on yesterday," young Shadow confessed. "I feel dumb; I mean, even Mikey was getting it."
"You're not dumb, big brother," Donny defended. "You just learn differently that Mikey and I do. Besides, fractions can be hard."
"Will you help me?"
"Of course I will," Donny replied. "Don't worry; we'll have you handling fractions like a pro in no time, Leo."
Shadow jolted back to reality so abruptly upon hearing that name, he was only vaguely aware of Donatello agreeing to help him, and babbling about the different materials he was going to need. Hearing that name had unleashed such an eruption of emotions he felt like he was going to burst from just trying to contain them. Desperate to get alone, but not wanting to offend his new (or were they his old?) family, Shadow faked a yawn, that maybe wasn't as fake as he'd intended. It had been quite the day after all and, for him, it wasn't over yet. Thankfully, the others picked up on his not so subtle cues.
"You've had a rough afternoon," Donatello remarked. "You're probably wiped out. Why don't you go lie down for a little while; we'll come get you up for dinner."
Again following his instincts, Shadow reached out and gently squeezed the back of Donatello's neck. Thank you, he sent before he hastily retreated to the privacy of his room. Never before had he been so grateful for a door to close the rest of the world out. He made sure it was closed securely before collapsing bonelessly on the bed.
Since the first time it had happened, he hadn't been sure what to make of these new "memories" that had been emerging over the past several days. At first, he'd thought they might be psychic impressions left by the younger turtles' missing brother, and he'd simply been picking up on them because the bond left his sensitive to such things. But then he'd heart that name: Leo. That simply, two syllable name had resonated with something so deep down inside him, not even the invasive present of the bond could touch it. He was Leo. The simple acknowledgement of it in his mind was at once alarming and achingly familiar. He felt like he'd been skinned alive, and then redressed in a new skin that wasn't quite comfortable, and didn't fit quite right, but that felt familiar nonetheless.
Suddenly besieged by an impulse he could name, much less deny, Shadow impulsively pushed the bed away from the wall to reveal the loose brick he knew was concealed there. Time and dust made it difficult, but he was eventually able to remove it. From the revealed cavity, the silent turtle pulled a handful of what were obviously a child's treasures. The frightening, and oddly comforting thing, was he could tell the story behind each one.
The last item Shadow pulled from the hole was an old, faded photograph of four young turtles. The colors were washed out from age, but Shadow could easily identify the red, orange, and purple-masked turtles. It was the blue-masked turtle smiling with carefree ease from between Michelangelo and Raphael that drew his attention, however. There could be no denying he was looking at a picture of himself as a child.
The picture fell from his nerveless hands, and he sat down hard on the floor as his legs refused to support him any longer. He didn't know what to think, simply because his brain refused to think. When the mental spasm ceased, a deluge of questions flooded his mind. Did the others know who he was? If so, why hadn't they said anything? How had he ended up enslaved to his former master? Hadn't they wanted him? Knowing what they did of his past, would they still want him now?
Shadow forced his mind to stillness by sheer force of will. Tormenting himself like this wasn't going to get him any answers. On the other hand, he couldn't just start demanding answers from his new family either. If they didn't know, suddenly claiming to be their long lost brother would only alienate them. Shadow would rather slit his own throat than lose the welcome and rapport he was building here. If they did know, maybe they were waiting for some sign from him that he knew.
Or maybe the thought hasn't occurred to them, Shadow reasoned. Or maybe they know, but they don't want to acknowledge it because the brother they knew and loved disappeared a long time ago, only to come back a pathetic former slave.
Round and round his thought went as he tried to figure out the enigma his life had become. At last, physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted, Shadow crawled into bed. For now, he decided, he wouldn't say anything. He would take the secret to his grave if it meant losing the brothers he had just found.
TMNT
Shadow found his resolve to keep his secret both easier and harder to keep than he thought, mainly because he didn't have time to think about it much, though the guilt was ever present. Whereas before, he hadn't known how to occupy his time between morning and evening practice, not his time was spent getting to know his family.
By far, the strongest connection he felt was with Raphael. In the red-masked turtle he found the best friend he'd never had. He'd had battle-kin before, those he knew he could rely on to watch his back in a fight, but Raphael was first person he felt he could eventually trust. Shadow just felt safe around the other turtle, which made keeping his secret that much more difficult.
The growing connection between them was finally cemented one night when Shadow was driven from his bed by a guilt-induced, memory-laced nightmare.
It had started as most of his nightmares did, with his former master. Shadow was restrained in the Position of Submission, so he couldn't see his master, only hear him.
"Thou hast been a very wicked trainee," he slaver hissed in his cold, reasonable tone. "First, thou wast declared oathbreaker, but now thou hast added the sin of lying to thy transgression."
I never lied to thee, master, Shadow pleaded.
"But what about us," Raphael's angry voice cut in. "You've been lying to us." Razor sharp anger sliced through Shadow's mind.
"We took you in and trusted you," Michelangelo added. "This is how you repay us?" Suffocating disappointment choked off the mute warrior's breath.
"I was right to be repulsed by you," Donatello concluded as ice cold disgust seared through the choking turtle. "You're nothing but a foul liar, not even worth the air you contaminate."
Jolted, breathless, from his rest, and unable to go back to sleep, Shadow headed down the practice room, which he'd been informed was called a dojo. After take just enough time to warm up to prevent serious injury, shadow launched into the most punishing routine he could devise. Heartsore and self-disgusted, he pushed himself to his limits. The hateful words from his dream-brothers were right. He'd been lying to them. For the past several weeks he'd been living with them under false pretenses. That he hadn't known initially wasn't an excuse, not to his mind. After all, his subconscious had been trying to tell him from day one. Donatello had been right to be disgusted with him; the genius turtle just hadn't realized the true reason why.
Ultimately, Shadow reached a point of complete physical exhaustion, and he collapsed to his hands and knees. But still the guilt lashed his mind.
Worthless fool, Shadow castigated himself. Treacherous drudge. What were you thinking, imagining you would ever be worth even a fraction of their value?
All at once, Shadow knew what he had to do. Hadn't his master spent years teaching him? He had messed up, and there was only one recourse for that. Without hesitation, Shadow threw all of his will-power into super-heating his spirit marks, hotter than he had ever done before, until the agony searing his body matched the pain of guilt tear apart his mind.
Shadow was so enveloped in his self-punishment he never noticed the horrified Raphael watching from the shadows along the wall. While the silent turtle had been in the middle of his punishing work-out, Raphael and contented himself with watching; he could understand the demons that sometime required a physical outlet for release. When his brother finally collapsed to the floor, the red-masked turtle had figured it was safe to approach, until he saw the tell-tale red-white flare of the tattooed marks super-heating. Almost mindless with panic, Raphael had reacted without thinking, and used the bond to cut off his brother's connection to the marks. The color and heat immediately began to fade, leaving the sobbing Shadow face down on the floor of the dojo.
Disregarding the heat still emanating from the heartbroken turtle, Raphael gathered him into a tight hug, tucking Shadow's head beneath his chin.
"Why," he asked hoarsely. "Why would you do that to yourself?"
Secrets, was the broken reply. So many secrets. You'd hate me if you knew.
"I could never hate you," Raphael asserted fiercely. "You're family; my brother, and that's all I need to know. You can keep your secrets. I don't need to know them to know how much I care for you."
If anything, the sobs shaking Shadow grew in intensity. Raphael just held him until they finally subsided. Once Shadow had calmed down, Raphael pulled him to his feet and started herding him out of the now dark dojo.
"We've only got a few more hours before it's time to get up," he said. "Why don't you come bunk down with me until then?"
**At Shadow's nervous and slightly horrified look, Raphael just growled slight and shook his head. "I'm going to put this bluntly: I don't want to have sex with you." He put his hand on Shadow's heart. After a moment, the silent turtle returned the gesture. "You're my brother, and being brothers means giving and receiving physical affection and comfort when needed.
I'm…I'm sorry, Shadow stuttered, embarrassed that his fatigue had caused him to so badly misread the situation, and possibly highly offend his brother. I didn't mean to suggest…that is, I wasn't saying…
"Calm down," Raphael commanded gently. "No harm done."
Too tired to censor himself, Shadow confessed, I'm just not accustomed to physical contact that isn't meant to cause pain or humiliation. And while my former slaver never touched me 'that way,' there were many others who weren't so fortunate.**
"Yeah, I can see how that could make you a little leery," Raphael said. But I swear, on my honor, that's not at all what I had in mind. I was thinking something a little more along the line of…cuddling, though I'll deny it if our brothers ever hear anything about this. And listen; never be afraid to tell me if I'm making you uncomfortable. It's your life, your mind, your body; no one has the right to use you in any way you don't like. Anyone who tells you any different will have to answer to me. Also, absolutely no more self-punishment, you hear me? You get to hurting that bad, you come to me. We'll figure it out together."
Shadow considered his brother's words for several minutes. Finally he asked, Is cuddling anything like hugging? Hugging was a habit he had definitely become addicted to.
"It's kind of like a prolonged hug," Raphael said.
Then I think I'd like to try this…cuddling.
The next morning, Shadow knew two things for certain. One, cuddling beat out simple hugging any day of the week. Two, Raphael had gained what no one else ever had: his utter and complete loyalty. He was still working on trust, but Shadow knew he would willingly lay down his life to protect this brother who shown him the first unconditional love he'd ever known.
So, I hope everyone enjoyed the small Leo-Donny moment, even if it did get overshadowed by Raphael here at the end. I have a good portion of the next chapter written; I just have to get it finished and typed. Hopefully I'll have it posted by Sunday.