The Fallen
By Willowfly
A/N: This is an AU horror fic based off of the events of the "Leonardo: Blind Sight" comic arc. However, one is not required to be familiar to enjoy.
Chapter 1: Prologue
When the phone rang at two AM, Splinter knew something terrible had happened. He could feel the weight of it, crushing his lungs. Leonardo hadn't returned from his training run, despite promises of being home by midnight.
As he wrapped his hands around the cold plastic of the payphone, he couldn't remember the trip down the stairs. His pounding heartbeat told him he'd ran.
"Sensei…" His voice wavered. Splinter had never heard such raw fear tainting his son's voice. "I've failed."
He clutched tightly onto the receiver as Leonardo recounted the battle, and his current situation, stranded helpless at the top of a building somewhere in the city.
As he hung up the phone, his hands shook. Donatello was standing pale-faced in the doorway.
"What happened?"
"Your brother has been poisoned," he said quickly. "Wake the others, we must find him."
The first night was cold, but the days that followed grew colder, and the darkness seemed to never end.
They found him on a rooftop in Lower Manhattan, huddled under the eve of the building next to the freshly-killed body of a homeless man.
He was covered in blood, and he was blind.
As the weeks of silence stretched on and Donatello's endless blood tests continued to prove fruitless, Leonardo sunk deeper into himself. He hadn't slept in days, giving his eyes a dark, sunken quality that had nothing to do with the poison. Meditation replaced everything, including meals if he was allowed, until someone finally dragged him away. But even then, he ate little, spoke less, and wandered around the Lair for hours looking lost.
From what he would sacrifice of the story from that night, the death of the homeless man had been an accident. He'd been blinded, and then tricked into taking the life of an innocent. But in Leonardo's mind, that mistake made him wicked.
As the days passed and Leo's depression grew deeper, the others began to wonder if their brother had returned to them even more damaged than what first appeared.
That was when Michelangelo thought it would be a good idea to bring him to the rooftops. He needed some air, needed someplace familiar away from the Lair where he could just take a break from himself for a while.
Leo followed him, and for a moment, it seemed the night air would do him good. He got him talking, at least, and it was good for Mike to hear his voice again, to see his brother actually talking things out instead of just stewing over everything all bottled in.
But when Leo starting talking about his purpose, about being a weapon, about throwing his swords over the edge of the roof, Mike didn't know how to react. Those were things he always tried not to think about, and being called a 'weapon' was something that had never crossed his mind.
I mean, there's more to life than just being a warrior, isn't there?
But Leo wouldn't be reasoned with. He needed a distraction, not more time to brood, and Mike was trying in every way he could. Leo just wouldn't budge. He'd dug his heels into the ground and Mike quickly found himself at a loss for words.
All he could do was watch his brother stare sightless over that building ledge, a horrible, tight feeling sinking into his gut.
When Leo asked for time alone, he knew it was a bad idea to give it to him. Even as he headed back down the stairs, he couldn't remember why he did it anyways.