A/N: I was suffering. So I made Leo suffer too. I own nothing.


Breathe. Just breathe, he reminded himself.

He took in a few strained, ragged breathes, swallowing back the sudden urge to cough. A coughing fit now would not help his already shallow breathing any. Inhaling as deeply as he could without irritating his lungs, he rubbed his hands together in an attempt to warm them. His head throbbed horribly and the only thought in his head other than his breathing mantra was that maybe he should have told Donnie how bad he really felt when he had checked on him just an hour ago.

After five more minutes of breathing where the tightness in his chest persisted still, he decided enough was enough. Having planted his cold feet on the even colder floor, he was faced with the decision of whether to bring his blanket with him. After a moment of muddled thought, dignity won out, despite its played part in his continued suffering. He slowly made his way down the stairs and to Don's lab.

He nearly broke down crying when he looked around and found it empty.

Ignoring his headache as best he could for the moment, he opened his senses to his surroundings. The tell-tale sounds of the TV assault his ears, and he instantly knew that was where Mikey was, playing some kind of racing game if the car crash sounds were anything to go by. Rhythmic thuds that came from the opposite direction told him his hot-headed brother was pounding away on the punching bag in the dojo. Then he heard it, the signature click clacking sound of three fingered hands typing on a laptop keyboard and the bubbling gurgle of the brewing coffee machine. The signature sounds of none other than Donatello.

As he spun on his heel to face the kitchen, a sudden sense of vertigo hit him so hard, he nearly face-planted before he quickly regained his bearings. A shake of his head in an attempt to clear it merely sent a new spike of pain and wave of nausea over his shivering, achy body. One hand over his eyes, the other over his tight chest, which wasn't being helped by the extreme dizziness he was suffering, he made his way quietly to the kitchen.

Leaning heavily in the doorway, he squinted through light that seemed unusually bright. He spotted his tech-loving and resident medic brother standing at the counter as he poured himself a mug of fresh coffee. "Donnie," he said, voice low.

"Hey, Leo," Don replied distractedly, not looking up from his mug. "Feeling any better, bro?"

He took a few wobbly steps closer to his purple-clad brother before trying again. "Don," he pleaded desperately, swallowing back the urge to break down coughing again.

Upon hearing the stumbled footfalls and strained voice, Donatello turned about in instant concern. "Leo?"

"I can't breathe," he panted in a pained voice hardly louder than a whisper. No sooner had he uttered his confession did his eyes roll back into his head and he pitched forward.

Don had just enough time to catch him before he hit the ground. "Leo!" Don exclaimed in shock, the leader limp in his arms. "Raph!" he called, thinking fast despite his coffee and sleep deprived mind. "Raph, I need some help in here!"

Heavy, pounding footsteps ran full speed from dojo to kitchen and a dark green hand stopped himself on the door frame, one sai out and ready for a fight. With a glance around the room for potential threats, he let out a curse as his eyes locked onto the sight of his older brother hanging like a rag doll on his immediate younger brother. "What the shell happened?!" he demanded, walking towards the two, sai still unsheathed and wary of hidden dangers.

"I don't know." Don gestured his red-clad brother over before continuing. "He stumbled in, said he couldn't breathe, then passed out." Raphael finally sheathed his weapon and gently took his older brother when Don placed him in his arms.

"He couldn't breathe?" Raph questioned promptingly as he watched the resident medic check over the young leader.

"That's what he said. Right now his breathing seems fine. More shallow than I'd like and a little strained, but not dangerously so. And certainly not what caused him to pass out. At least, not that alone."

"So what's wrong with 'im then?" Raphael nearly growled.

Biting his lower lip in uncertainty, Don motioned towards the doorway and the lair beyond. "Help me carry him to my lab and I'll see what I can find out." Don let out a quick sigh. "He told me he was fine just an hour ago when I checked on him. . ." he trailed off.

"Well, that's Leo fer ya." Raph slid his hands under his brother's arms and lifted as Don grasped behind his knees and levered him up evenly.

The oldest brother's pale head lolled alarmingly limp against Raph's plastron as the two carried the one quickly but smoothly towards the lab-turned-infirmary.

As they passed the living room, Michelangelo glanced up from his game and became immediately worried at the sight that greeted him. "Donnie? What happened to Leo?" He stood, not even bothering to pause his game.

"I don't know yet, Mikey. He just passed out." Don sent a meaningful glance at Raph who held his gaze before looking back down at the precious load in his arms. Don directed his eyes back to the youngest. "Mikey, go into my lab and clear off the cot. Just shove everything off if you have to. I don't know why I put anything on it, so stupid." The last part was mumbled mostly to himself and Mike took off full speed at once.

Crashing sounds met their ears a moment later as the three crossed the threshold into the lab.

"Sorry," Mike mumbled sheepishly, setting down another delicate-looking machine more carefully.

"Doesn't matter. Throw them if you have to, just get the cot cleared."

As instructed, Mikey swiped his hands across the canvas surface of the cot, brushing various machines, components, and pieces of tech that probably took the genius months to build and collect, to the floor in a ringing mess. Leo would feel horrible with guilt if he saw this, Mike thought to himself solemnly. He cleared off the last few gears and tools before he grabbed a clean sheet from the cabinet without a word from Don. Cot cleared and sheet spread, Don and Raph lowered their charge onto the makeshift infirmary bed.

Raph and Mikey stepped back against the wall, so as to be out of the way. Don rushed about the lab-turned-infirmary to collect the medical equipment he required. The red and orange banded turtles watched their purple clad brother busy about side by side.

In a hushed tone, eyes fixed on the unconscious leader lying limply on the starched sheet, Mikey asked, "He's gonna be alright, right Raph? Leo's gonna be fine, right?"

"'A course he's gunna be fine. He's 'Fearless Leader'. He's always fine," Raph replied, gruff tone not entirely covering the uncertain waver in his voice. Then under his breath, "He's gotta be alright."

Supplies and equipment fully gathered, Donatello approached the still form of Leonardo, stethoscope in hand. "Time to see what's wrong with our brother."


Author's Notes: There is no plot or story here. I'm really not sure what will happen to this. It will be marked complete until I decide if there is a future for it, let alone what it entails. No 'Perfectus' for this one yet. Only just got the chance to transfer it from paper to digital, minor editing included. Mostly because I have writer's block on my other current projects (haven't forgotten you, Nino! 'Choices' is coming!), and I'm hiding from my Spanish homework *shivers*. I spent the better part of a weekend down with food poisoning, but it was about two weeks ago. Yeah, this is about how I felt all day but multiplied by like 3 in the story, stomachache was gone but my head and chest hurt like shell, and boy did I have the dizzies. Took some ibuprofen and two hours later I felt fine! I wrote this in the height of my misery, and as we all know, Misery Loves Company. Thanks for reading!

Oh, and P.S. bonus points to anyone who can find the word-that-isn't-a-real-word-but-maybe-should-be in here. Love ya all!

-TheOneThatGotAway99