"And hold the candle for me, melancholy baby,

don't believe a word they say.

Day to remember, a day to forget,

day to move on and a day to regret." –Elliot Randall, Hold the Candle

No Torch too Heavy to Carry

She reached out. Fingertips clawing at the air; reaching for . . . what? The realization struck her and she dropped her arm and slipped it back between the bars. The sound of the entryway door clanging shut was followed by the diminutive shriek of the bolt being driven home. It wasn't good enough to be locked in a cell, he secured the outer door as well.

So afraid of your daughter? Am I such a dangerous prisoner, that you had to lock both? Good, she thought, because if you hadn't I would have . . . I would have . . .

Chest heaving, she stood in mute horror, stunned and sickened, clutching and releasing the cold steel bars of her prison. The bars pressing into her clammy palms. Her prison. Her eyes shot around, in a wild recollection of where she'd been placed and she knew this room. She knew it well. Where once she played, skipping into and out of these cells, pretending to be both captive and captor on the rare visits she made when her father traveled to the New York branch of the Foot Clan.

The ghost of her echoed childhood laughter seemed to raise up around her, making her jump. The phantom child, dark haired, emerald-eyes like some demi-goddess flashed before her mind's eye, so lifelike, it was as though she'd emerged from the shadows right in front of her. So close, she nearly reached out once more to grasp at the girl. So real she nearly asked for the girl to unlock the cage door and free her. But Karai could not do more than croak as a half-formed sob choked her. The image faded as her vision blurred and was gone with a blink. Karai giggled and wiped roughly at her face.

Hysterical, she thought bitterly. What a kunoichi she was turning out to be. The greatest night of her life, her ultimate achievement, the act that would give her father what he most wanted and secure in his mind that she was truly worthy of him, had taken the worst imaginable turn. And now here she was, placed in isolation, given up to the darkness. To her prison. But maybe he was just angry with her. Maybe he'd come back. She straightened suddenly. Sure she made out the sound of his boots coming down the hallway. Her hear raced. Her fists tightened on the bars. The pleas for forgiveness danced on the tip of her tongue. She would renounce the lies. He would forgive her. Her life would become once again something coherent and tangible. And she waited. Hoping. Building her defense.

Seconds turned to minutes. Hope dwindled and rattled out of her soul like leaves blown down a deserted street. The pleas and explanations curdled on her tongue and turned rank and ashen. She choked.

It was ridiculous. No one was going to be setting her free. No one was coming for her. Why would they? She had effectively betrayed everyone. What the hell had she been thinking? Splinter would never want her, how could he? She was what she'd been raised to be. Bad. And now the Shredder only saw her abasement. He'd told her once, the greatest wrong that a child could do to her parent would be to dishonor them. And she'd done exactly that. What would he do to her now?

Did he ever love me?

"Oh, god," she moaned both in pity and self-loathing.

Her forehead knocked forward against the bars. Her head twisted from side to side. Slowly. She'd have screamed then, but found her breath thready and weak; her lungs seemed to shrink smaller with every exhale, not allowing any oxygen to replace the lost breath. Her very core felt insubstantial and poorly formed, as though she were slowly coming apart like pudding left on a warm surface. She remained that way, arms above her head, body slumped over bent legs, dry eyed and silent, listening to her wretched heartbeat. Slowly, by inches, her gaze rose upwards, peering through the bars before her face, into that opaque darkness hanging before her red-rimmed eyes. Her heart, already knowing her mind, or was it the other way around, began to race. His face came to her, trusting and gentle, with his deep eyes, sincere and impassioned with faith. Faith in her. Still.

"Leo," she murmured. "Will you come for me?"

Meditation did nothing. Pacing increased his agitation. The tea was bitter in his mouth. His stomach refused to lay still. Raging demons clawed at his insides. He watched as Donatello and Splinter eased Michelangelo's still unconscious form onto his mattress. Splinter taking care to prop his teddy bear under one arm, then pulling a chair up next to his boy's bed, one hand never quite leaving contact with him. Leo haunted the doorway. Explanations and more importantly, a single appeal weighed leaden and jagged at the back of his throat. A burr he could not clear. Donatello walked past him, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as he went. Leaving Leo to his duty.

He entered and stood just behind Splinter. "Sensei," he began, voice catching. So much to say, but the most important rose to the surface. "I failed you."

Splinter's ear twitched but he made no move other than to straighten part of Mikey's blanket.

Leonardo's eyes roved over his baby brother's supine form and his stomach twisted painfully. The regret bloomed across his vision, coloring the room in a repulsive shade that matched too closely the maroon bruises that marred Mikey's flesh. If he'd been more careful; if he'd called Splinter instead of bringing Karai to him, none of this would have happened. But he'd been so happy at the prospect of reuniting his Master with his daughter, overjoyed, he hadn't thought, not even for a second, that it could be a trap. He'd wanted to believe in her so badly. To know he'd not been wrong in sensing that goodness in her. But she'd tricked him. Used his belief in her to her scheming advantage. The back of his neck heated uncomfortably.

And if he'd been stronger then Mikey would not have gotten hurt. Not like this. Not so badly. And Karai would not have had to intercede to save him. He winced and pinched his eyes shut with the shameful memory of being brought down and held at the end of Tiger Claw's sword once again. The humiliation was too great. His knees buckled. He fell forward; bowing to press his forehead to the ground at his father's feet.

"Master!" he cried and Splinter turned in his seat. "Tiger Claw was too strong. He defeated us and took Karai." He swallowed and shook his head in despair. "I promise I will not fail again! I will get stronger, Sensei! I will defeat Tiger Claw. I will bring Karai home -"

"No!" Splinter barked.

Leonardo flinched and blinking, looked up as he came to sit upon his knees. "B-But Master . . . I can do it. I know I can."

"You will do no such thing. Do you understand me, Leonardo?" His eyes flashed and Leonardo drew back slightly. Splinter gathered an unsteady breath, and uncurled the fist on his thigh. His gaze softened. "It is too dangerous."

"But Sensei . . ."

"I will not have you place yourself in harm's way. Besides that, my son, Karai alone must decide where she belongs."

"But!"

Splinter lowered his chin and narrowed his gleaming eyes. The expression brokered no further argument. Leonardo fell silent, squirming a bit where he knelt.

"Go. Rest. Speak of this no further to me," he snapped. Then, more gently, "Leonardo, it has been . . . a trying day for us all."

Leonardo's mouth opened but he snapped it shut and stood. It was no use. He bowed respectfully then stepped back and casting one last glance between his little brother and father, who was now only looking towards Michelangelo's sleeping face, he turned away and quietly slipped out of the room. Once free, he balled his hands to fists and clenched his jaw. He wiped at his forehead and found he was sweating.

Splinter had to believe that he could make this right. He had to. Otherwise, it meant that Splinter questioned making him leader. That he doubted him. A sharp pain went through Leo making him stumble as he strode towards his room. No. He would fix this! He'd prove that he was worthy of his place in the clan as leader. He would rescue Karai. For in his heart, he knew she was in mortal danger even if it was too painful for Splinter to accept.

He took a deep breath and then another. He hurried towards his room. Seeing April and Raph talking quietly with Casey in the living room as he went. Raph held up his hand and Leo overheard him.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Uh, you guys only have two, right? 'Cuz I think I see four," Casey said in a slurring voice.

Leonardo closed the door to his room and hurried to affix several throwing stars to his belt. He tucked two smoke bombs into a pouch on his side. Karai had risked her life to save him and there was no way he would allow that selfless act to go ignored. There was good in her. He'd always known it. He'd never stop believing in her. He couldn't do so even if he tried. She'd gotten under his shell somehow, into his thoughts and burrowed deep down into his subconscious.

He had to grant his father this most dear wish. To have his family whole once more. He would reunite his master with his daughter. There was no more time to lose. Karai's life was in danger and he would not sit back and do nothing.

"I will rescue you," he promised, with the unfinished heartfelt addition of my love dancing at the very edge of his consciousness.