1 Year since the Incident
Leonardo could feel the warm light of the candles. Thousands - cheap tea lights that were cast to float in the sewage water and away from the silent family. He felt the petals of the single flower he held in his hand, so soft and light, so easy to break, like thin silk. He felt the subtle vibrations wind through the ground when their father kneeled and the skittering on the floor when Leatherhead swished his tail.
He felt the pressure in the air, so thin and light. It felt like they could all just float upwards with a little push; no gravity, just gliding and soaring through the empty air. And his hearing was so sensitive, light to the droplets of leaking water and the soft contorted sniffles of April.
He couldn't see a single thing.
One week since he'd gone blind. One year since Donatello died.
It didn't ache like all those books and movies said. He didn't feel a terrible sadness or an all consuming loss. He was simply numb. Empty. Every time he would turn to ask Donnie if he wanted coffee in the mornings and his little brother wouldn't be there, that emptiness would eat away at him. It would rot and decay at the fringes of his mind.
Because on that very second that the shot rang through the air, Leonardo had been numb.
After a few murmured words, Splinter's sons knelt beside him by the edge of the concrete, fingertips catching sprays of water. It was lukewarm and soothing in its white noise. Leonardo gently placed his flower on the lapping surface, his fingers submerging into that tepid water. When he let go, he wanted to watch that flower float away; he wanted to see that beauty slowly vanish from his sight in that twisted symbolism.
Instead, he saw memories.
Memories to a certain night that had haunted his sleep for a year.
The haze of battle was hardly memorable. It was a fray, shrouded in rubble and risen dust clouds, fogging every sight and closing around every orifice. The moonlight had crept through and dyed the air with the copper dust. It had been viciously beautiful, he remembered.
There were no sounds, only a continuous high pitched ringing from the countless gunshots of Bishops small army. There was no real time; only flashes and jolts and stops in one adrenaline filled rush.
Leonardo saw the gore; saw the countless faceless soldiers throwing themselves upon his blade. He remembered in flashes of vivid color where his family had been.
Raphael was in the center of it all, a blockade of soldiers attacking him all at once. There was a continuous spray of blood that rained over his form. The sai was not elegant like the blade or the Bo. It stabbed and it shanked, it rained the most gore and flayed the most flesh. It was vibrant and glorious like a championing warrior.
Splinter had been at the edge of it all. Grown men flying at this old rat's hand, numbers among numbers keeping him from advancing. No matter how quickly he killed one, another would replace it.
Mikey and Donnie – Leonardo remembered swiping a glance to them before it happened. They were back to back, circling in the shadows of the desolate fog, true ninja disappearing into their surroundings and holding their own against this small army.
And now they were here one year later - silent statues, heads bowed - at this anniversary. There wasn't a grave to honor, they couldn't even recover Donatello's body after the battle; and now they were left with only flowers to lay into the water.
It was so laughable. So wickedly ironic, he could laugh and chuckle and giggle. It was so shameful. But here he was, blind, not mourning his brother's death, merely acknowledging it. Here he was, selfishly wishing for things go back to normal.
A/N: Whew! And so the mystery begins to unfold!
Yup, Leo's blind... As much as I like torturing him, I kept on thinking "you poor thing!"
I just wanna swaddle him and give him hot chocolate and apologize profusely for making him go through this...