Quaternary Systems

By Kay

Disclaimer: If I owned TMNT, there would be so much more blood in the cartoon. Heh.

Author's Notes: Just a ficlet requested by someone about "Leo" and "stars." And, er, this semi-fluffy, brotherly piece is what I came out with. While it's fairly pointless, I hope someone enjoys. Thank you so much! (bows) And zomg, Leo, you are an old man and yet a kid. HOW DO YOU DO THAT?

Quaternary System - four stars that orbit each other.


Leo favors a starry night to an empty one, though it's somewhat undesirable during the mission of a ninja. The extra light is not kind, after all, to beings wanting to blend in with the shadows, and anything that keeps the people of New York's eyes on the sky is a dangerous thing. This being said, there's practicality and then there's honesty. Leo is not built for lies; the steady rush of his blood and calm eyes are not conductive to them. He keeps firm balance in all things, finding truth to be solid ground.

So Leo isn't going to deny it. He much prefers a cloudless arena to play in during their patrols.

He likes a sky full of stars. He likes it when Mikey crows in triumph when they see a streak of meteor falling to earth and yanks on Leo's hand, telling him, laughter bubbling, to make a wish that isn't boring. Sometimes Leo pretends to shut his eyes and obey, to humor his little brother. He doesn't say that he's perfectly content with the way things are because Mikey won't understand. Wishes are for brothers who still have yearnings, but if he says so, Mikey will only wilt in disappointment. (When he moves his mouth silently, he doesn't even know what he's saying; just that it's not a question.)

Donny points out constellations and remarks on the changes of season. The historical importance of various stars. The article he's read in a science journal about how this particular dim spot, just two inches to the left of Raph's ear (don't move, Raph, that's it), has actually been discovered to have had water on its surface. Don gets excited and waves his arms, as if scattering the pieces weightlessly placed in the bruised purple around him as they stand on skyscrapers lodged into the atmosphere. Leo listens, even if it appears he's only tilting his head while watching the alley below them for movement. Don speaks about possibilities and probabilities and positions and the Pleiades.

Raph is made more for the moon, basking in the pale comparison to the sun like it's the closest he can get. He's Cheshire Cat grins and haunting reminders. But sometimes Leo catches Raph lounging on the rooftops, eyes slanted at the stars from behind the stark scarlet of his mask, and it's enough to catch them both off guard. Maybe Raph is thinking of the same memories as Leo. Maybe he's watching the way Mikey jumps from between Ursa Major and Ursa Minor against the skyline, the glow of Donny's eyes when they light up from some new discovery or idea he has to share with his clueless brothers. Leo doesn't ask. Raph doesn't tell. But these nights are softer between them—easier, companionable. They connect the points to form a picture and keep a steady eye out on the horizon together.

Perhaps to be crudely honest, Leo doesn't even bother to look at the sky these days. Rather, it's what occurs around him that becomes the comfort. That and those brief moments when, catching himself on the ledge just before jumping, he reaches into himself. Finds north and aligns it, spark in black to flicker in his body, before stepping off the edge.

(And maybe once, okay, he'd made a wish with Mikey's hand on his shoulder, but Leo isn't going to share it no matter who asks because then it might not come true.)


The End