Donatello looked up from the Christmas tree at the sound of Raphael's scoff.

The hotheaded turtle was sitting on his workout bench, doing bicep curls and staring gloomily as Donatello and Michelangelo decorated the tree. Splinter had been feeling under the weather lately, so the two of them had thought that it would be nice for him to emerge from his room and see that they'd taken it upon themselves to get the decorations up. Raphael, however, thought otherwise.

Hanging up an ornament (a cracked Red Hot Chili Peppers CD they'd found and had looped a bit of wire through), Donatello sighed. "Spit it out, Raph. You're about ten minutes behind schedule on our nightly fight."

"Oh sure, got everything timed to perfection, dont'cha, brainiac?" Watching as Donatello rubbed his fingertips against his brow as though feeling a headache beginning to brew, Raphael shook his head and set his weight down on the floor. "You just don't feel right until things go accordin' to schedule, huh?"

"Raph," Donatello broke in levelly, "we're putting up a Christmas tree, okay? It's a week until Christmas, this little tree that April bought for us isn't exactly gaining anything in the way of sunshine and other vital nutrients around here, and Mikey already took out the ornaments. If you don't feel like helping us, I don't remembering ever saying you had to."

Seeing Raphael get up, Michelangelo murmured, "Uh-oh. Here we go again." As much as he hated it when his brothers fought, this was pretty much the norm now, and so he decided he'd bow out and go for a ride on his skateboard through the tunnels. He only hoped the poor tree would remain standing by the time it was over.

"So this is it, huh?" Raphael brought up, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked blandly over at the tinsel Michelangelo had been draping over the branches. "This is the new family tradition? Splinter sick in his room and the two of you pretendin' that Leo was never even here to begin with?"

"I don't recall you ever being much for tradition," Donatello remarked, trying to stay calm. "And even if you were, what do you care? Leo used to have to drag you over by your bandanna to at least put a couple of ornaments up before you huffed your way back to the television."

"Yeah," Raphael agreed, "but it was Leo doin' it."

Uncomprehending, Donatello merely stared at his brother for a moment before shaking his head. "Well, if you'd like me to put on a blue eye mask and grab the spare katana, I could always force you into a bit of holiday cheer, just to make you happy."

"Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you?" Raphael nearly growled. "Well, let's get it clear right now: you ain't Leo, you'll never be Leo, and you've gotta stop pretendin' you are."

Dumfounded, Donatello took a step back in shock. "What are you talking about? I know all of that! Do you think I'm trying to take his place or something?"

"If the shell fits…."

"Raphael, you're being stupid," Donatello shot back. "Leo's coming back in a few months. That doesn't mean we can't have Christmas without him! Mikey and Splinter are still here, and so are April and Casey. Just because one of us is off training doesn't mean that a holiday just doesn't exist!"

"Yes it does!" Raphael's voice was definitely a growl this time around as he very visibly kept himself from shoving Donatello, or perhaps worse. The quieter turtle could only stare at him, perplexed, wondering if Raphael was arguing just for the sake of arguing. Again.

"We could have Halloween without Leo," Raphael explained, breathing a little hard as he fought to keep his temper under control. "We could have Thanksgiving without 'im. I don't even need to see his face come the New Year. But Christmas? It ain't right."

Realizing that Raphael wasn't being argumentative so much as he was just dealing with his feelings of missing Leonardo in the only way he knew how, Donatello's expression softened a little. This wasn't about claiming the title of Alpha turtle, nor about Raphael just using him as an easy target with which to pick a fight. His brother was actually hurting, and Donatello needed a moment to figure out how to deal with it.

"But we're not," he insisted quietly. "Having Christmas without him, I mean."

"What, you got insider knowledge that he'll be makin' the holiday rounds?"

"Raph," Donatello insisted patiently. "Just because we don't see him physically doesn't mean that we don't see him in our minds. Just remembering him, keeping him in our thoughts, that's enough to bring him here for the holidays. It might not be on the literal level, but it's still something."

"Spare me your wishy-washiness, okay?"

"It's true," he pressed on gently. "And you want to hear it, or something like it, or else you wouldn't have been acting out against us these past few nights. Every time we made some mention of Christmas, you'd look at us like we just threatened you somehow, and I just thought you were being a Scrooge. Now I see it: you are a Scrooge, but Leonardo brought us together to do the decorating and gift-buying, acting as the one bit of Christmas spirit any of us ever had. So it just doesn't feel the same for you."

Raphael was silent for a long time. Then, rolling his eyes, he muttered, "Spare me your psycho-analyzing, Dr. Phil. You've been slowly-but-surely takin' Leo's place ever since he left us, and this is just another example of you taking the responsibility of the 'leader' when you don't even deserve it."

Though his words hurt, Donatello knew that Raphael was doing it in hopes of either sparking a full-fledged argument or to get him to back away. It was a defense mechanism of his whenever something got too close to his emotions for their own good.

"Leonardo didn't leave us," he persisted. "He left home. And you can always come back home."

Raphael hesitated before giving his eyes a roll. Looking to the tree again and snatching off a string of Froot Loops that Michelangelo had laced together as an impromptu decoration, he turned and headed back to his room, munching on the cereal and murmuring, "Whatever, Egghead."

Staring after his brother, Raphael sighed and looked back towards the tree. Well, if nothing else, all of his nonsense about family and the holidays seemed to have coaxed Raphael enough to keep the fight short and from coming to blows. Still, that didn't change the fact that he knew he'd been lying; Donatello had about as much Christmas spirit as a wad of chewing gum.

He'd only put up the decorations because he'd seen Michelangelo staring longingly at the tree, and he knew that April would come down eventually, asking why they hadn't decorated yet. Rather than see his brother moping or answer any questions to which he didn't know the answer, Donatello had decided that it was best that he simply put on a happy face and just bite the bullet. Or the candy cane. Which the tree needed more of.

Opening the box of candy canes that Michelangelo had picked up on his last trip topside, Donatello just noticed that almost all of them were broken when he realized someone else was in the room. Looking up, he blinked in surprised and said, "Sensei, I thought you turned in for the night."

Slowly walking towards Donatello, Splinter seemed vaguely amused as he murmured, "As though one can sleep when one can set a clock to you arguing with Raphael." Embarrassed, Donatello muttered a promise about it not happening again, only to get cut off by a wave of Splinter's walking stick. "Do not make promises that you've no intention of keeping, my son. It is unbecoming."

Looking to the tree, Splinter commented, "I cannot help but wonder if you yourself believe what you told your brother, about keeping Leonardo's spirit close merely by thinking of him."

Hesitating, Donatello admitted, "I did say most of it just to calm him down and keep him from arguing too much, but it's not far from the truth. I mean, true, it's physically impossible to bring someone's spirit to another location just by thinking of him, but- ow!" He cut himself off when his hand was rapped hard by Splinter's walking stick, and he looked at his sensei in confusion.

"You are discussing physical impossibilities when the subject concerns the metaphysical," Splinter scolded. "That has always been your trouble, Donatello. You do not see past the limitations of hard facts, choosing instead to ignore what your heart tells you to be true."

"Well, not to be facetious, but I'm pretty sure my heart can't talk, Sen-" He once again cut himself off, though this time it was mostly to do with the stern look Splinter gave him.

"Your brother is currently facing challenges unknown," Splinter told him darkly. "He may be cold, he may be hungry, he may be ill. We do not know what troubles he faces. But he keeps track of the time that passes, and knows that the holidays are upon us. How must it feel for him, sitting alone in the wilderness, knowing that his brothers are enjoying the comforts of home and hearth? Raphael's arguing and your false assurances are insults to him, but the fact that you do not honestly believe that keeping him in your thoughts will help is even more insulting."

"Sensei, I can't do anything for Leo from where I am-"

"Think of him," Splinter insisted. "Think of the times you have spent with him, decorating trees and wrapping gifts. Believe that when your heart is filled with the memories of Christmases past, that you are bringing Leonardo just a little closer to the present Christmas. And believe me when I say that he will feel it. Your thoughts, your warmth, and your happiness will all prove a comfort to him, wheresoever he might be."

Donatello stared at him, trying his best not to make it obvious that he thought Splinter's cold medications were messing around with his thought processes. Bowing his head and deciding against making any false promises to do as Splinter said, he asked, "May I finish with the tree now, Sensei?"

"If you wish," Splinter told him. "But please, find a box with better candy canes. Seeing each and every one of them broken is depressing."

"Hey Don! What's up?"

"Hey April," Donatello said, getting rid of his wool hat once he was inside April's apartment. "This might seem weird, but I'm on a hunt for candy canes. Have you got any to spare?"

"Only a treeful," she replied, pointing a thumb towards her tree, which was laden with garland, bows, and candy canes. "I told Casey to buy one box of standard peppermint and one of whichever other flavor he liked. Turns out, he likes them all."

"Of course he does," Donatello murmured. "Mind if I snag a couple? Only enough to fill up our-"

"Oh, hey, I've got something for you!" April broke in. Moving towards her desk in the living room, she continued, "Sorry to interrupt, but I just want to give them to you before I forget. There's so much mail coming in from my family that they're just likely to get lost."

Confused, he followed her over to her desk, watching her as she opened a drawer and withdrew an impeccable manila folder. Right. As though someone as neat and orderly as April could ever lose anything. With a vague smile, he reached out for the four cards she handed him… and stopped smiling when he recognized the handwriting.

"Leo?"

"Yup," she replied. "They came in this afternoon. I was going to drop by later with Casey, but since you're here, all the better. "

Going through each of them, Donatello saw that they were postcards. One of them, Michelangelo's, highlighted a beach in Costa Rica famous for its surf zones. Splinter got one featuring a small picturesque town called San Ramon, and Raphael had one concerning a popular hot springs at the base of a volcano. He came across his card, then, which focused on the Rincon de la Vieja Volcano, going into detail about its geological significance to the surrounding national park. While not particularly holiday-themed, each card was personalized and included a short note, and each ended with the same line: "Thinking of you during the holidays and always."

Unoriginal as the line was, Donatello felt something strange as he read it. In the same way that he'd told Raphael to keep Leonardo in mind, Leonardo was keeping Raphael and the rest of them in his thoughts. And somehow, knowing this… Leonardo did feel closer. Donatello couldn't describe it, and he certainly couldn't explain it, which may explain why April asked after the frown he was suddenly wearing.

"Nothing," Donatello murmured absently. "Just… it's nothing. Splinter was saying something, and twenty minutes later, I'm beginning to think he was right. I just wish I could explain why he was right."

"Well," April brought up wryly, "you do call him 'Master Splinter' for a reason, don't you?" Donatello chuckled, and he agreed, and he gathered up a dozen candy canes in a satchel before bidding April farewell and returning to the sewers.

And all the while, he'd glance back at his postcard, thinking of his brother and feeling him near.