Years later, Shadow's clearest memory of her Uncle Leo would always be of that summer storm in late August.

She was six and scared silly. The apartment was empty without her Mommy April to fill it with bustling noise. Her father, who she was convinced could fix anything from knee scabs to bullet wounds (and she'd already seen her fair share of both), wasn't there to tuck her in bed. Uncle Mikey had been by earlier to do so, but while he made great faces and told elaborate stories about mutant alligators and ponies, he was long gone, leaving the window carefully shut and locked behind him. She slept, dreaming young things. It was the crash of thunder that woke her abruptly.

New York had its share of rainfall, but an actual thunderstorm was rare. Shadow wanted her Daddy. His strong hands and stronger sticks, the rough rub of his stubble. She padded into the living room, frightened by the shadows creeping alongside her in the hallway, before remembering he wasn't going to be there. No one was, except…

He was in the kitchen, making tea on the stove. Shadow watched him quietly, hovering in the doorway in her red nightgown as the window panes clattered with the torrent of water. He was ninja, of course. He would always know where she was; years later, Shadow would understand better. When she was young, though, it always seemed like a clever trick, and sure enough Uncle Leo pulled down two cups from the cupboard to put onto the table without even glancing her way.

That was all she needed. Any fears about being reprimanded for being out of bed at this time were swept away, and Shadow flew across the tiles in a blur of stumbling feet. Hands that would hold her up to pad together snowmen on the rooftops come winter caught her—the floor disappeared as Uncle Leo lifted her easily into the air. The thunder boomed and Shadow wound her arms around his neck, burrowing against his familiar and yet unfamiliar shoulder. Her fingers curled around the edge of his shell, its texture somehow reassuring for all of its rough edges, old scars.

"Has the storm woken you up?" Uncle Leo murmured, not unkindly. She nodded tearfully.

"Where's Daddy?"

"I'm sorry," he told her, cupping her head. "He won't be back until tomorrow morning, honey."

She knew that, but it still made her heartbeat flutter in panic. She was getting too big to curl completely against even her Uncle's considerable bulk, but she did her best. "Scare away the storm, Uncle Leo."

Her uncle chuckled. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Because it's scary!"

"Ah," he said, sounding very much like the wise owl in Winny the Pooh or such, enough so that Shadow stifled a surprised and wet giggle, "that is very true. However, I think we have to consider this from all angles."

"What's that?" She didn't understand.

He stirred at the call of the kettle, shifting Shadow to his side with one strong arm and crossing to it. He took the kettle off the stove and put it on the tray, and balanced the tray in one hand as he brought it to the table. Shadow wrinkled her nose. She hated the tea stuff, but her mother sometimes made her try a sip when Uncle Leo and her would talk in the kitchen. Sure enough, her uncle poured two cups and settled into the chair, Shadow on his lap. She poked at "her" cup reluctantly while he drew deep from the bottom of the cup, silent.

"Now," Uncle Leo finally said, putting his cup down, "what's this about the rain being scary?"

"S'loud," she provided, sullen.

"Yeah, it is. But if I remember, you can make a pretty loud racket if you get into the pots and pans," her uncle said mildly.

"That's fun, Uncle Leo. Don't be dumb."

He laughed. The sound vibrated his chest and Shadow sniffled, tucking her forehead against it. It was getting harder to be afraid with Uncle Leo. It was always that way. "You know why it has to rain, though, right?"

"… Nuh-uh."

One of his thick fingers found her curls, twining into it and pulling tenderly. "It's part of nature, Shadow, that rain has to fall. We need it to water the plants and fill our rivers, to make things grow. You want your mother's flowerbox to grow, right?"

"Yeah." She scrunched up her face, unsatisfied. "But s'gotta make the big booms with it?"

Uncle Leo hummed, looking like he was thinking it over. "Well, not really. But sometimes you have to take the bad to get the good, too."

Shadow didn't understand that, either. She got plenty of fun things without yucky stuff—but then, as she thought about it, maybe that wasn't true. Her birthday presents always came with her mommy cleaning her face and forcing her into a dress, too. "I don't like it," she whispered, chewing her lip.

Uncle Leo was silent for a moment. He drank from his tea again, then refilled his cup. "You wanna hear a secret?"

Shadow nodded.

He smiled. "I used to be frightened of thunder, too."

Shadow laughed. "Daddy says lyin' is bad!" If there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that her uncles were never, ever scared. Especially Uncle Leo. He'd never made faces before, not like Uncle Mikey, and definitely not scared faces.

"Are you calling me a liar?" he teased, ruffling her hair. "It's true. So was your Uncle Raphie and Uncle Donny. Your Uncle Mikey was the most terrified, though. You could hear the thunder booming through the pipes at our home and so he'd spend almost every night in one of our beds."

"What did you do?" Curiosity replaced the disbelief. "Didja beat it up?"

"No." His gaze went far away. "Your Grandpa Splinter told us exactly what I told you. We should welcome the storm, never hide from it. We should be grateful for everything it does for us, understand that it cannot harm you, and…"

When he said nothing, Shadow squirmed impatiently. "An' what?"

He blinked slowly and then looked down at her.

Lightening lit up the window and the deafening crumble of the sky followed not a moment afterwards. She drew up into herself, seizing in fear, but Uncle Leo was already holding her closer, murmuring comforting words she couldn't hear. She clung to his warmth. He pet her hair, like all of his brothers did. (All of them different, though. Uncle Donny's touch so shy, Uncle Mikey's playful, Uncle Raph's gruff but gentle—and her Uncle Leo now, a word Shadow would only place when older, reverent.) When the flash had passed, Shadow trembled.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he was saying softly. "I'm here, it's okay. Don't be scared—I won't be going anywhere. You're safe."

That was what she'd been waiting to hear. Shadow rubbed her stinging eyes with her little fists, feeling the terror dissipate with his promise. Never once—no matter what—had any of her uncles failed to protect her after giving their word.

And never had they left her alone.

They spent two hours drinking the tea that Shadow hated, Uncle Leo telling her funny stories about his childhood and how Uncle Raphie used to get into so much trouble. They played tic-tac-toe on her mother's favorite stationary and then her uncle tucked Shadow into bed, building a fort of her dolls against the side nearest to the window. He stayed well past when her eyes couldn't stay open any longer; she would always wonder, far in the future, if she imagined or actually heard the faint hum of a lullaby.

Years later, Shadow's clearest memory of her Uncle Leo would always be of that summer storm in late August. There were plenty of others—times he'd stayed with her when she was sick, rocking her while April rested and Casey paced. Building snowmen on the rooftops in overly large earmuffs, squealing as Uncle Leo gave them humped backs for shells. Her uncle trying to instruct her how to remain calm, find her focus, when she was old enough to know the meaning of balance. Like all the precious people in her life, he was a firm imprint against who she became. Perhaps not as strong as others, or as often remembered, or given as much gratitude as deserved.

But even now, she would often awaken to thunder and have the strangest longing for a cup of tea.