*Warning: foul language from… the author? In the author note? Oops :p*

Based on episode 3 of season 5 'Heart of Evil' and episodes 5/6 When Worlds collide.

So… now that I haven't been writing fanfiction for ages and should most definitely work on my chapter stories… I've decided to write drabbles. Well, decide, more like I was forced to by my muse. She's all like, nopety nope, you only get new ideas for new stories, no completing your old ones whatsoever. So yeah… here goes!

Funny thing, I wrote this because I hated Donnie in episode 3 so I wanted his sweet, protective big brother side instead for this fic, the way we see him at the end of the episode :D

Runt

"Can-can we take a break?"

Three pairs of eyes, one blue, one green and one brown, turn towards the struggling turtle in their midst. Raphael's grip tightens slightly around a trembling green arm. Donatello's eyes narrow, and efficiently he zeroes in on the worst injuries, paying extra attention to the steadily darkening bruise on the top of the turtle's head. Leonardo, who led the turtles to their home, instinctively reaches his arms out after turning around to face his youngest brother, ready to catch him after noticing fatigued knees buckling under the turtle's weight.

Michelangelo, Mikey, lets his eyes droop closed when the brothers, after a short, non-verbal conversation, support him as he slowly sinks down towards the ground, shell against the sewer-wall. His head and back are killing him. Donnie hasn't said so, but Mikey is pretty sure that he has a concussion. As for his back, he's unsure what the problem is there, but it feels like all his nerves are on fire.

Mikey doesn't notice, he is too busy trying to calm his racing heart, but soon his older brothers have reached the agreement that Leonardo speeds home to bring the Shellraiser. In full sprint, the lair is only another fifteen minutes away, but it is obvious that Michelangelo is not going to make the rest of the trip fully conscious if they continue going.

"Can't I just carry him, Don?"

The purple-masked turtle shakes his head, not taking his eyes from the bandages he is checking. Mikey has done a great job of staying away from the razor-sharp claws of Tigerclaw (a name so accurately fitting), but even shallow cuts and scrapes can become dangerous infections when navigating your way home through the sewers. All wounds have already been disinfected once, after they found Mikey in between the filth in the alley. But that doesn't mean it isn't just as important to keep the wounds clean before they can be properly taken care off at home.

"You probably could, but I don't want to chance it until we know the full extent of his injuries. If he passes out, he can't scream his head off when something hurts. We could make things worse. Especially if he's hurt internally." And God forbid if that ever happens.

"Hey," the normally extremely vocal turtle in between them mumbles. "I'm right here, you know."

Don good-naturedly rolls his eyes, but Raph responds.

"Heh, can't blame us. With your size, even humans could overlook ya. That's why we send our runt after Tigerclaw, right? If you'd just be stealthy like a ninja should, you'd be a pro at hiding. Could've send the kitty in a frenzy looking for ya."

It's a joke, not a well-thought-through one, but there is no ill intend behind Raph's words. It's simple banter, in the way the turtles interact with one another on a daily basis. And while Mikey doesn't seem to notice nor care about his older brother's brashness and lack of finesse, Donnie frowns.

"Raph," he chastises lightly.

"Yeah, yeah, alright, too soon," the strongest turtle waves him off, seating himself besides his youngest brother and letting his fingers glide over his belt. Mike looks like he could use some water. Even though Raph is pretty sure he has already finished his bottle, it's worth to at least check.

"And you're only a couple of inches taller than me," Mikey cuts in, sticking his tongue out for good measure. Donnie rolls his eyes again, ignoring the tongue, and instead going straight for the light blue eyes, checking them carefully for any signs of a concussion with his cell phone's torchlight.

"It's all about the brawn, little brother, no one cares for a couple of inches when you punch their lights out in one single swing."

Donatello snorts, but again doesn't comment. Sure, he likes getting involved in playful banter between his brothers just as much as the next guy, mostly because nine out of ten times he wins the silly arguments because of his intellect. But while Raph is now doing a fine job of keeping Mikey occupied and distracted from fidgeting too much while Don checks him over, the smartest turtle of the group needs to pay close attention to what he is doing.

Don never aspired to become the doctor of the family, but became so by default. His brothers have complete faith in him, but sometimes Donnie wonders if the family has any clue as to how precarious their situation can get. They have no access to specialists, or medical equipment that goes past what Don can make himself and what they can find when they are lucky. Their living environment, crawling with bacteria that could cause the most terrifying infections, only makes matters worse. His family probably doesn't even know it, but Don is fully aware that even a simple human illness, like appendicitis or pneumonia, which human hospitals can easily treat, will spell death for them. That combined to their dangerous lifestyles, it's a miracle they're still alive and functioning.

After not too long Leo comes driving over in the Shellraiser. They help Mikey in and take him home. It isn't long before the youngest of the turtles is safely in bed, well taken care off and on the mend. Most of the injuries will heal on their own, but with the trauma Mikey's shell has already suffered in the past, Donnie wants to keep a close eye on what exactly is causing the pain Mikey was complaining about. If it is a mere bruising of the bones attached to his shell, it will heal fine. If there are any other complications however, it could potentially be even more disastrous than the moderate concussion Michelangelo sports.

"I want to wake him every two hours. Concussions like this are not to be taken lightly," Don states as he walks from the bedrooms towards the pit.

Leo nods from his spot on the couch. "We'll rotate. It's been a long night, let's all try to get the most sleep we can get. I'll wake him up first. I don't feel like sleeping just yet."

Instead of going to his room, however, Raph sinks into the couch next to his brother. "Well, that makes two of us."

"Three," Donnie mumbles as he walks over.

Don has always been the night owl of the family, but it isn't uncommon for all three of the oldest turtles to suffer from insomnia. Leonardo often worries too much after an intense mission, especially after someone comes home injured. After Splinter's passing sleeplessness has become an almost regular thing for Leo, and Don has already asked April to get some over the counter sleeping pills, just in case.

Raphael's issues are less mental and more physical. The red-banded turtle has a hard time winding down after a fight. The adrenaline that is pumping through his blood long after the action has ended, keeps him awake till late at night.

Michelangelo often goes to bed without any problems, and values sleeping the most out of his brothers. Master Splinter has learned very early on in his son's life that as long as the youngest is exercised sufficiently to get rid of his excess energy, he won't have to worry about sleeplessness. After rather tough missions, it's Mikey who is mostly plagued by nightmares though. But even then, after being reassured by his brothers, he is perfectly capable to sleep through the night.

"Well at least the little runt is getting some sleep. Seriously you guys, he's been getting hurt way too often for my tastes. It's like he isn't even trying to be careful anymore."

"I hear you, Raph," Leo says as he turns on the TV, trying to find a channel for some mindless watching. If anything, it would help Raph relax. "I've noticed too. He's been slacking during the missions. It's been hard these last couple of months, though, so I wouldn't be surprised if Mikey hasn't been sleeping well either. Maybe a little rest and downtime is exactly what he needs."

Even though it's late, and Donnie has been through too much already during the mission, turning his thoughts down isn't an option for him, not even now. Ever since he was young, he's had trouble quieting his brain. The analytical thought processes keep continuing, even when his emotional wellbeing and mental state have to take a backseat for them. And right now, something is troubling Donnie.

"Raph?"

"Hmm?" The red-banded ninja grunts.

"Why do you keep calling Mikey a runt?"

"Same reason I keep calling you Brainiac and Leo Lame-O-Nardo. It's good for your character."

Not what Donnie meant.

"But why call him a runt? You got enough nicknames for him already, why call him something so degrading?"

This time he has the attention of both his older brothers. From his seat on the bean bag, which is placed more in front of the couch (Mikey loves being close to the TV) he can almost feel the stares burning in the back of his head.

"Degrading?" Leo asks, surprised.

Hmm... that's something Don hadn't been expecting. He knows his immediate older brother can be somewhat impulsive, rude even, but Leonardo is always very attentive and respectful towards others. Donnie expected his brother to understand his aversion towards the word and agree with him.

"Do you guys even know what a runt is?" He asks, actually dumbfounded by the apparent ignorance of his older brothers.

"Sure, it means he's not the sharpest tool in the sewers. Come on Don, why are you making such a big deal out of this. Ain't like you have never called him a Pestobrain or a Shell for Brains before. Every family has one idiot, and Mikey knows it's him too. I can call him stupid, in return I don't always punch him when he calls me a Hothead."

"Because that totally doesn't proof his point, does it Raph?" Leo snickers, though the smile quickly vanishes from his face when he notices Donnie tense.

"That's not the same," Don counters. "That's banter, we don't actually mean he has a shell or pesto for a brain. Same goes for your nicknames."

"No, well duh. It's the principle of things, like a metaphor. Call it poetry."

"Not my point, Raph," and this time, Donnie is actually getting frustrated with his brother. Blame it on the long day, blame it on the residue anger he hasn't been able to act on, blame it on his protective older brother instincts that always flare up when Mikey gets hurt badly.

"Then what is your point, Donnie?" Leo comes in between both. Last they need is more bad blood between brothers after today.

"The point is that you degrade Mikey by calling him out on his weaknesses. He can't help it he's been born this way. It's actually rather admirable how he's working his way through it."

"Through what?!" Donnie isn't the only one now steadily losing his patience. Then again, Raphael never was one for being accommodating and understanding when he is being accused.

"Being the runt of the family!" And Donnie has never claimed he had infinite patience.

And all of the sudden it's quiet again. The TV softly plays a Coca Cola commercial and above their heads water is rushing through the pipelines down into the sewers. It's not entirely silent, but as silent as could ever be in the Turtles' lair.

"Look, I'm sorry for yelling okay," Donnie allows, because he realizes that he hasn't been as tolerant and self-composed as he normally at least tries to be. "It's just, you guys should've seen Mikey's face when I explained him what a runt actually is. I didn't realize it at that moment either, but you have no idea how often you call him that, Raph, and it hurts him."

The red-banded turtle doesn't respond. Mikey actually asked Don for the definition? Did he really call the kid a runt that often that Mikey started to take it seriously? Apparently at least serious enough to ask Donnie's opinion about it. But why would it bother him? And why wouldn't he say anything to Raph?

It's Leo's quiet voice that continues the conversation, if you can even call it a normal conversation at this point. Teenage brothers usually don't discuss what one brother believes is family harassment in the middle of the night while the topic of their conversation is injured in bed. But Donnie supposes that, since they've become orphaned at the tender age of eighteen, and their lives exist of mostly seclusion and solitude, their family dynamics have never fit the normal cookie-cutter form to begin with. Especially now that their oldest brother, only older by design, has to take a leader, teacher and fatherly role onto himself to keep their family together. So with all that has been happening, it isn't strange that supressed emotions are running high.

"Donnie?" Leo asks. "What is a runt exactly?"

Don is unsure if Leo asks because he is genuinely curious, or just because he wants to console him, knowing he feels most comfortable as a teacher and scientist.

"A runt is the smallest and weakest of a litter or family. It's, in the simplest way, a result of Darwinism. The strongest and healthiest survive, the smallest and weakest perish. Without runts, the healthier animals in a litter have a higher chance of being eaten by predators. They're basically made to improve the chance of survival for their siblings."

He swallows, hating himself for talking about Mikey in that way. It was with great intention that he used the word 'animals', to distance himself and his brothers from what he is saying, but then again, no matter what way you twist it around, they are part animal. And it's that part that made Michelangelo the runt.

"Parents often either largely ignore their runt, or they reject it all together. Actually it's only humans that really fight for every single offspring they produce, even when they are weak or permanently ill. It's against Survival of the Fittest, but it gives offspring like Mikey a better chance."

His older brothers remain quiet, pensive looks on their faces. Even though their earliest childhood memories aren't always the ones they look back on fond, Master Splinter has always done his best to take care of the turtles. Even when the odds were stacked against them, they somehow made it through together.

"Would Mikey have made it if we, you know, wouldn't have been mutated and taken in by Splinter?" Raph asks, all false pretence now gone.

As self-proclaimed strongest and toughest turtle of the family, it isn't often that he likes to go deeper into an issue than strictly necessary, especially when it concerns his family and close friends. It is hard to keep your composure when discussing matters that actually hurt and matter. But being the strongest comes with another role he has taken on: that of the protector. And all be damned if Raphael doesn't take that role the most serious of all the others.

"I don't think so," Donnie answers truthfully, not one to sugar-coat reality. "We would probably have been sold to individual owners. The runts often get thrown out anyway, so if he was even picked by someone, I don't think he would've thrived in captivity. Turtles are hard to take care off and not that expensive. If one gets sick, and the owner even notices it's sick, owners usually don't think they're worth a trip to the vet. I'm sure you guys remember how often Mikey used to get sick when we were younger. I don't think he would've made it past three years old if it wasn't for Splinter nurturing him back to health whenever he caught something."

Grim looks form on all of the older turtles' faces. As young terrapins living in a cold, damp underground lair filled with bacteria from the sewers, they all got sick frequently in their formative years. Luckily Master Splinter was very capable to take care of them, and he was able to nurse them back to health in just a few days. Well, he could for all of them but Mikey. Don has actually trouble remembering young Michelangelo not being sick with something, though often it was just a serious head cold. At least nothing that would keep him bedridden. The trick was not to have it escalate into something worse though, and that was no easy feat.

"Are there any consequences still?" Leo asks. "I mean, he doesn't get sick as often anymore. Is he still ehm… influenced by how he was born? In other ways, I mean?"

"Well, it's mostly his outer appearance that shows it, really. The way his skin is much lighter and how he is the smallest. In the wild that alone would make him an easier prey. You and Raph are actually the text-book example of thriving red-eared sliders: dark skin and a regular size. You wouldn't have stood out too much for predators. Apart from his appearance, it could explain his ADHD. Runts don't always develop that well in their infancy either, so mental and physical anomalies are quite common. And it could explain his unhealthy relationship with food. Runts instinctively eat anything they come across to improve their chances of survival."

To Leo, a lot about his brother starts to make sense. Sure, his little brother can be a handful at times. And yes, he has a couple of characteristics that are far from convenient for a ninja. Not everything can be shoved onto it being a result of Mikey's genetic make-up either, but it's obvious to Leonardo now that his younger brother struggles with his own problems more than Leo has realised and observed before. He should probably have a conversation with Don soon on how he can conform training so it better fits Mikey's needs, the way Master Splinter usually adapted lessons to fit them, instead of adapting his sons to fit the lessons.

Raph on the other hand, doesn't worry about Mikey's quirks or how they came to be. Michelangelo is still Mikey, still his younger brother, and just knowing this about him, is not going to change anything for the second-oldest, especially not in his treatment of the orange-banded turtle. He does, however, reconsider using the word 'runt' as a descriptor for the kid. With what Don has so far told them about the word, it doesn't fit Mikey at all. Runts get eaten to protect their siblings from the same fate. But for the turtles it's the other way around. It's the older Hamato brothers who protect their younger siblings, and Mikey is by default the most protected of all. That doesn't make him a runt, that makes him a little brother.

"What about you then, Don, you don't look like a normal red-eared slider either."

The purple-banded turtle shrugs dismissively.

"Also part of the Darwin-theory. Offspring with special characteristics are produced to increase the chances of survival for the entire species. If the characteristic is an advantage, the animal with the characteristic is more likely to survive and reproduce, passing on the characteristic. If not, they are more likely to die. Giraffes for example, didn't always have the long necks, yet the individuals who did have it, thrived because they could reach the leaves in the top of the trees. They reproduced, did better than the animals with the shorter necks, and eventually the species with short necks died out.

"In captivity I would've been fine. I'm healthy after all. I'm not so sure if my outer appearance would've helped me any in the wild though. My skin colour just doesn't blend in so well with the foliage we would have lived in. My longer arms and legs could've been an advantage though. I could reach higher places for food. On the other hand I'm not as strong as either of you so my chances of reproducing would've been limited by that."

"Alright Don, no reason to go into details. We don't need to know that your sex life as a turtle would've looked exactly the way it looks now," Raph grumbles, rising from the couch in the process.

"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm off to bed. I'll set my alarm for in about three hours. That's second shift right?"

Don nods absentmindedly in agreement. The three older brothers mumble an 'oyasumi', a 'good night', to one another before Raph turns around the corner towards the bedrooms. They don't speak a lot of Japanese anymore, not since Splinter passed, but they still do so daily in basic word phrases, the first they learned when they were young. At night, after Splinter had tucked them in, he'd bid them 'oyasumi' and they would answer with 'oyasuminasai', the respectful wording for elders. It's a habit they would hate to break with.

"You should be going to bed too, Donnie. You can take the third and sleep for a couple of hours. I'll stay here for another hour, wake Mike, and go to bed myself."

Don stands up, still puzzling over the conversation they've just had.

"You're right. Wake me up if there's anything wrong, okay? Mikey should be able to tell you his name and say what day it is. You can also ask him about what has happened tonight. Anything to check if he isn't getting confused or acts more drowsy than he should, okay?"

Leo smiles at his younger brother, genuine affection for his smartest brother brimming over. Always so worried, always so caring.

"I know how it works, Donnie. Mikey is going to be fine, I promise. I see you tomorrow okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Oyasumi."

"Oyasumi."

"Oh, and Don?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for explaining."

Another smile, this one gap-toothed but nothing less genuine.

"No problem."

Not long after the conversation, which the oldest Hamato brothers had mostly forgotten about, considering everything else that was going on in their lives, Michelangelo was the one to bring it all up again, when his second-oldest brother confronted him about his rash behaviour.

"Are you insane?! You could have died out there Mikey, heck we already thought you had died! And then you stay in that hunk-a-junk alien ship that's on the point of exploding? Do you want Leo and Don to have a heart attack?!"

The younger is utterly unphased by his brother's outburst of concern. The easy-going smile and the casual shrug of his shoulder are neither forced nor faked.

"Hey, I did it for you bro, had to get you all out. By the way, I had the electric powers, I was totally doing great. I'm fine, not a scratch honest. I just need to get myself a new mask is all."

It bothers Raphael, the dismissive way his youngest brother talks about his almost-sacrifice. He makes it sound like he knew what he was doing. Raph knows it is an act though. He'd seen Mikey on that ship, just before they fled and left him to finish the fight. He was afraid, petrified even. After years of comforting his brother after nightmares, Raph knows like no other what that looks like on Mikey. His brother hadn't thought he would've made it out either. With that realisation, Raphael starts to hate himself for having listened; for having left his brother on his own to explode.

"We didn't ask you to risk your life for ours," Raphael counters, most of the bite having disappeared from his voice.

"It's what the runts are for, Raph."

And Raphael knows his brother isn't kidding either.

There is also a topic in this story that I would like to discuss with you through the story. It's about knowing what you call people. I know bullies normally don't really care about their victims' feelings, but even they should know the exact damage they are doing. Now Raph certainly isn't a bully, but as you can see here, is words have made an impact. Same goes for me. My little bro called me a word that he, he eventually found out, did not know the meaning of. It was a homophobic word and he hurt me terribly by calling me that. The two of us figured things out and all is good and well now, but it is definitely something to think about for the both of us in the future.

Anyway hope you liked, and see you all soon! (With the next drabble, oh dear)