Disclaimer: I don't own Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or any of its characters. Nor do I own the definition of phobia from Webster's English Dictionary.

Phobia

Phobia: (noun) an irrational, excessive and persistent fear of something or a situation. - Webster's English Dictionary

After living so long in fear, Leo didn't have much to fear anymore.

Long ago, he might have been worried and trembled at the thought if one of his brothers went somewhere without his knowledge. Long ago, he might have been sickened at seeing someone's cruel end, begging for mercy while their enemies merely laughed, laughed and laughed. Long ago, he might have been afraid of Death's baiting eyelashes, her caresses more tighter and colder each time she strikes, her cruel lips curved in a taunting smile as she loomed gleefully over him.

But it was long ago when he had something to fear.

The city he once knew, was no more. New York was lost, overthrown by the Shredder's harsh sovereignty. His empire had already spread, like poison, conquering and festering the country and now after thirty years, the entire world. His reach is long and far, spanning to other universes, now at the mercy of his fingertips. Before, Leo would have leaped into action, determined to fight and win against evil. However, the dragging years and continuous defeats made him see that it was futile to try. All that he is focused on now is running from the enemies, fighting only when necessary and dreaming of his forsaken past and lost brothers.

Donatello had disappeared one day, simply vanishing from their lives. Day after day, they searched, holding onto the frail hope that they would find their brother. Days became weeks. Weeks crawled to months. Finally, months extended to years. But then, they were too concerned with Shredder's growing reign, submerging the city into shadows, than to worry about ghosts. Splinter and Casey died for this useless struggle. Mikey turned cold and emotionless, all laughter and humor abandoned in him. Raph only grew angrier, more violent, withdrawn from his remaining brothers. April became old, strength and spirit waning, her once bold, fiery eyes now dissipated and dulled. Leo himself lost his sight, becoming disfigured, living his days in darkness and shame. Others struggled to survive, crushed by Shredder's oppression, wasted away by poverty and despair. Even the rebels had given up hope long ago.

It was on this particular day Leo leaped lightly into the rebel headquarters, having previously received a cryptic message from April, the last rebel leader still alive and fighting. Inhaling the familiar musty air, he strained his ears, hearing the tiniest of movements. He whipped out his sword in one fluid motion, ready to attack. The ground behind him squeaked and he spun around. He was surprised to find that his mysterious adversary turned out to be his brother, Raphael.

" Oh what's the matter, Leo? I remind ya how you made us abandoned Master Splinter when he needed us most!"

Even after all these years, Raph's voice still hasn't lost its roughness, their rage. He spat out sentences, cursing both the acrid words and him, forcing them out of his mouth. Leo bristled, losing his composure. Raph continued to believe that they could have saved Splinter. But he knew better. As much as Leo wanted, begged for his father to be alive and guiding them, he'd rather Splinter be dead, away from this morbid world and at peace in death. At least, he wouldn't have to see his sons tear themselves apart by hopelessness and bitterness.

Raph's undying hatred continued to flare against him, leaving him empty and weary a little more each time they fought. Leo was tired. He was tired of being criticized by Raph and tired of being ignored by Mikey. They all were tired. Tired of everything. This war. This struggle. This nightmare. And for what? What can they do to end it? They already tried so many times and they already failed so many times. It was an endless cycle they were trapped in. Doomed to replay it again and again till their walls of reality crumble and wax away.

Unable to control himself, Leo snapped at his brother, voice harsh and biting. He wasn't going to take this abusive judgment any longer. Raph retorted, snarling like a dangerous, cornered beast. But Leo didn't care. He was done trying to argue and convince his fiercely stubborn brother. He raised his sword. He could feel Raph tensing, ready to charge. He abandoned his sentiments as a brother. They were no longer brothers or comrades. They didn't even consider each other family any more.

So consumed in their rage, neither Leo or Raph noticed another figure joining their dispute. Something hard and wooden smacked Leo across the chest, flattening him to the ground. He could hear the same treatment being applied to Raph. He quickly stood, swiveling his head, seeking the source that was strong enough to knock him and Raph down and at the same time, managed to remain unnoticed until now. Suddenly, he heard Raph gasped.

Then, he heard his voice.

" Leo. Raph. We need to talk."

Said by none other than Donatello, the brother whom had went missing for thirty years.

Feeling a clashing of emotions of confusion, betrayal and happiness, Leo forced himself to remain calm as he listened to his brothers' conversation, not yelling or screaming at each other for once, but actually discussing as to how to overthrow the Shredder. He heard Mikey, solemn with a slight tone of amusement, then Raph's, soft and not so hateful. But Donatello's voice was overflowing with determination, optimism, inspiration, steadiness and assurance, just as he was before. Like he had never disappeared.

When the others headed to a more adequate place to talk, Leo excused himself to his room, claiming to be to tired and needing rest. But in reality, what he needed was time to collect his thoughts. He was afraid for some reason. Very, very afraid. His breathing had escalated. Heart rate doubled. Sweat on palms. Throat constricted. Body tense and rigid. Thoughts whirling. All symptoms of fear and alarm.

But of what? He didn't understand. It was unexplainable, illogical and downright confusing.

It was Donatello's voice, he realized. That was what frightened him so. Yet it made no sense whatsoever. He was but a bodiless voice to him, invisible and impalpable and yet, here Leo was, panicking, agitated, edgy without reason. The rising uneasiness rose, nearly choking him, cutting off his precious air. He couldn't stop shaking without having to sit and clenching his hands. He wanted to laugh, to giggle at the irony of it. Fearless Leo was fearful of something. And it was his long-lost brother.

Truth to be told, he missed Donatello. He longed for Don's ever reassuring and comforting charisma, needing to be wrapped around in his presence, to be enshrouded by it. They needed Donatello to be there to soothe Raph, to understand Mikey and to console Leo. Without their middleman, their stronghold, their rock, they fell apart, breaking, shattering, sharp and cutting as glass to others and to each other. Sometimes at night, he silently raged for answers that never came, for questions that plagued him persistently. And now that an opportunity has presented itself to him, a chance to answer the questions, he fled cowardly from it.

A part of him preferred if Donatello was dead. It would have been easier to deal with, rather than to add another handful of grief to his overflowing pile of misery. Even a betrayal would have not been so painful, just to know that his brother was still alive. Even if he had traitorously joined with the Shredder. Even if his brother's life had to be ended by his own hands.

He hated Donatello. He hated him. Hated him from abandoning them. Hated him from the pain that he had put all of them through. Hated him for making Splinter believe in a false hope, even till his death. Hated him for leaving so suddenly, only to reappear so suddenly. Hated for making Mikey bitter. Hated him for making Raph spiteful. Hated him for making himself unapproachable. Hated him for torturing him now that he had returned. Hated him since Don was the reason why he feared him so.

Reluctantly, Leo sought out his brothers and asked them about Donatello. They described their brother as he was thirty years ago. Leo tried to picture the image of Donatello, but his memories were like holding sand. The more he clung to them, the more they fade away. He conjured up a youthful face, lips curved into a gentle smile, as he showed them yet another of his inventions. His own mouth twitched. How he missed those days.

There was a grunt somehow above him, from his safe haven of a hiding spot. He heard April and Stockman speaking and explaining and an inquisitive reply would come, filled with questions and observations. Weariness, exhilaration and enjoyment all blended from Don's soft voice, ever curious and eager. Sounds of rummaging the Karai bot were loud and complex, as Donatello took things out, putting things in and rearranging them to his desire, often pausing in his work, perhaps to inspect and ponder before continuing.

Mikey and Ralph would often come by to see Donatello, to help, to talk, just to remain in his comforting presence. He could hear their voices, no longer clouded with hate and despair. Mikey allowed a few sarcastic jokes slip by, his old personality resurfacing. Once, he heard Raph's laughter rang out, hearty and bellowing. He ached to join them but he remained hidden, silent and watchful.

He wanted to be near them and yet far away. He wanted to talk to Don yet remain speechless. He wanted to embrace Donatello yet he withdrew. He wanted to laugh and yet he held it back. He wanted to curse Don yet praise him. He feared his brother and loved him at the same time.

Sometimes, he shuddered at the thought that Donatello might disappear, that he is but a mere illusion, ripping away their frail hope with his departure. He remembered the first night Don was here. He almost crashed into the guards and other objects in his haste to the sleeping quarters, where he was told his brother slept. As he found the sleeping form before him, he bent down, touching the worn blanket. As he removed his hand, his fingers unintentionally brushed against Don's cheek. It was smooth and unmarked, untouched by war or grief. He envied this Donatello, for he wasn't their Donatello but another from a different world, one that is peaceful and safe.

It was then he realized that this Donatello did not belong here. This was not his fight, his war. He could die for a world that was doomed anyways. And once he died, who could save them then?

He wanted – no, needed Donatello to be here. He inspired them, brought their family back together and returned the light back into their darkened world. He was their support when things begin to crumble, when their world began to fade and blur.

If that was the case, then why did he fear Don?

His brother shifted, mumbling incoherent words as he began to stir. And Leo fled back into the shadows before Donatello would awake. He did not dared to hear Don's voice.

So he ran. Better to flee than to stay. Better to escape than to surrender. In his head, as he bolted down the sightless corridors, he mentally chastened himself for being overwhelmed by his fear and running away like a coward. He was a ninja. And ninjas do not run like a dog with its tail behind its legs.

But this was something that he could not defeat, no matter what he did. Donatello was an invincible foe that could not be cut down or overpowered by physical means. He knew everything about Leo, as Leo did about him. Which only made this fight only more pointless.

Left with no option, he remained swathed in the shadows, an observer, a watcher, a spectator. Each laughter that was heard, each voice that resonated, only burned deeper guiltily and painfully in his breast.

On the third night after Donatello's miraculous return, Leo sat on the ledge of his old home. He hadn't been here for years. He had abandoned it, knowing it as foolish to hold the past in his grip, when the future was in much more dire need.

Footsteps shuffled from behind. He was already up and standing, swords aligned to kill, when they stopped, no more than ten feet away.

His shoulders relaxed. It was but Donatello. The scent and little "whoa" were unmistakeably his. He sheathed his swords and easily shifted back to his previous position. Don approached him shyly, his steps now echoing of his hesitation and shyness. Leo didn't blame him. He felt the same way as well.

" I finished the Karai bot and the Tunneler," he said breathlessly. " They're both ready for tomorrow." His voice trembled in fatigue and excitement. Tomorrow, the brothers would reunite to finish the battle with Shredder.

But then what? This Donatello would return to his world and they would left here still trapped in this world. Would they rebuild? Rebuild what? Everything was left in ruins. Would he and Raph argue and separate once their mediator was gone? Mikey would still have lost his arm. Raph still wouldn't be able to see through his left eye. Splinter, Casey and countless others would still be dead. And he would still be blind and left wondering why he feared Donatello so much.

Joints creaked softly as Don grunted, sitting beside him on the ledge. He stretched out his legs, muscles hurrying to comply. " Something on your mind?" he asked, once he settled comfortably on the ground. Donatello was always able to see when something was bothering his brothers. It was still a mystery as to how he does it. When Leo didn't respond, Don took his silence for his answer. " Want to talk about it?" he probed gently.

Leo turned his head towards Don, lips pressed together in a frown. There was so many things he wanted to say. I am afraid of you, he ached to confess.

Splinter had told him before, that in order to face his fears, he must understand why he feared what he feared. But he did not know why he feared Donatello. Thus, he could not face his fears.

Finally, he spoke hesitantly. " Can I touch your face?" he stuttered out tentatively. It was a simple and straightforward request. And once again, he was afraid, afraid of Donatello's reaction, afraid of what his brother might say or do next. It was rejection that disheartened him the most. But his worries were blown away by an understanding, melodious reply.

" Sure."

Relieved, Leo raised his hands before he realized there was a slight problem. He did not know where Don's face was and he did not dare risk poking Donatello's eyes by mistake. Then, his fear would remain unsolved. Suddenly, his hands were held by his brother, gently guiding them towards their destination.

At once, his fingers came in contact with soft skin once again, glossy compared to his coarse, marred touch. He brushed against Donatello's lips, feeling warm air breathing down upon his fingers, tickling over them. His forefinger casually stroked an insignificant bump at the corner of his chin. He remembered the scar that Donatello had received when he had fallen on the ground as a young turtle and he silently smiled, thankful that he was able to remember.

Donatello fidgeted under his hands and his heart racing (whether in unease or anticipation, he did not know), Leo continued to move up. He fingered the smooth surface of Don's cheeks once more, relishing in their blissful silkiness. He reached highly, inspecting the small curve that was Don's nose. Tingled by the fluttering of eyelashes, his fingers twirled around Don's bandanna, creamy and pure. His own had deteriorated long ago, replaced by the glasses he now wore. Raph still carried his, a reminder of his pain, resentment and failure. Mikey took his old one off, burying it in the depths of the past, wearing a new one, duller and darker, humorless.

For the umpteenth time, he cursed his unseeing sight. He wanted to see colour. He wanted to see those chocolate brown eyes, glowing in cleverness and serenity. He wanted to see that burning sienna when he was angered, irritated beyond his boundaries. He wanted to see the thoughtful mahogany as he pondered some amazing conception only he could understand.

But most of all, he wanted to see his brother.

" Leo?"

He was startled out of his thoughts. Donatello must be confused as to why his hands remained half-covering his eyes and face. He withdrew regretfully, sunken back into the night. His hands felt empty and cold, now that they no longer held Don.

" Thank you," his voice a murmur. This Don could and would never be able to comprehend of what he just did for him.

For some time, the two of them remained seated where they were, silent. Leo imagined that Don was watching him, wondering what he was thinking, not knowing that he inwardly wrestled with himself to say something, anything to break the silence.

He had deserted his previous chance to confront Don and his fear. And this might be the last chance he would get. " I cannot begin to express my gratitude," Leo began, swallowing with difficulty. For his part, Don listened. He was always the listener out of the four of them. " Even though we had long given up, Master Splinter always hoped, believed that you would return to us. His only regret was that he could not have seen you himself one last time."

Leo felt Don squirmed uncomfortably beside him and he immediately berated himself. Why did he remind both his brother and himself of their pain and loss?

" Sorry," Donatello mumbled, guilt tingling in his voice. " This is all my fault. If only I had - "

" No!" It was louder and harsher than he had intended. He could fear Don's head jerking upwards, alarmed, but he paid no heed to it. " It's not your fault. If anything, it is our – my fault for not doing better. I let Master Splinter die. I let him die. I let them all die. I just stood there and watched. Watched as they died. I didn't do anything ... I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING AT ALL!"

The words spilled out of his mouth. Tumbling and wildly out of control. He snapped his mouth before the words continued to overflow. Don's silence was enough of a testament to his unreasonable behavior and he hung his head in shame. He cursed himself for letting his emotions get the better of him. He had broken the one rule that he had sworn to follow till his last breath.

Instead of rejection, he felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder. " Leo, it's all right," Don spoke softly for his ears alone. Leo clutched Don's hand tightly, almost compellingly, in an attempt to maintain contact, a connection with his brother. " It's all right," he repeated, voice a mere sigh, floating away in a sea of quietness.

He shook his head. That was a lie. Nothing was right and everything was wrong. This world. This nightmare. His life. " I lost my brother once," Leo whispered. " I won't lose another one again."

For thirty years, he was scared of Donatello because he was afraid that another one of his family would be taken away from him too soon. As what happened to Master Splinter and Casey and so many nameless others. What was happening to Mikey, Raph and April. They all slipped away from him too soon and too quickly for him to grasp it. Donatello represented who he couldn't save and what he screamed for in the darkness.

But as this Donatello, the one from another dimension, cradled him gently in his arms, the roles of older and younger brother switched, murmuring sweet words as if he was a child again, Leo felt safe and at peace for once.

He smiled, the first time in years.

Perhaps, his fear was irrational after all.