Bridge to Nowhere

The lair sat in early morning stillness as Donatello slipped from his lab. He yawned, stretching his arms up above his head, a coffee cup hooked through one finger. He slid his glasses to his forehead and peered around as he entered the kitchen; stopping short.

"Leo? What are you doing up? Is everything alright?" Donnie asked, glancing around.

Leonardo gave him a sidelong glance and dropped his gaze to the small glass and narrow-necked bottle in front of him. Master Splinter's sake. Donatello frowned. He reached up and brought his glasses down, adjusted them.

He answered slowly, "No. Nothing's up. Nothing to worry about. Just . . . thinking." His words slurred and gently knocked into one another like partially melted ice cubes in the bottom of a half-filled glass.

"You've been drinking," Don stated the obvious and pointed his empty mug at the bottle of sake on the table. If his statement contained a hint of reproach, he could not help it. Master Splinter was going to have a conniption fit when he learned that Leo, of all of them, had picked the lock on his personal cabinet in his room to get to it. Donatello wondered what had come over his usually stoic and obedient brother to stoop to such an action.

"This is true." Leo lifted the sake up in one hand. He tipped the bottle and refilled his glass. "Also true, is that I'm still drinking." He threw back the glass and swallowed, looking up and grinning sloppily at Donnie. There was something along the edges of his expression that suggested a deep sorrow. A melancholy shadow rested across his eyes.

Running his tongue over his bottom lip, Donatello glanced again through the plastic that separated the living quarters from the kitchen space. His eyes narrowed as his keen mind raced. He crossed the space and set his mug down, then took a moment to brace both hands on the back of one mismatched chair, leaning forward. The wood creaked.

"Did you and Raph fight about something again?" he asked in a slightly lowered voice. He'd been in the lab most of the night, none of his equipment was exactly quiet and he'd been running several machines, blocking out most of the sounds that occurred beyond his lab door. "Was it about," he hesitated, gauging Leo's level of intoxication and his body language, "seeing April?"

Leo chuckled and waved his hand through the air. With a grunt he got up and searched the upper cabinets until he found the glassware, an odd collection of scavenged pieces, mismatched, and cracked. He found a suitable candidate and removed it, closing the door with quiet care. He turned and tipped it towards Donatello. "Have a drink with me, Donnie."

"Uh," Don hesitated, then, "Okay." He sat down, watching Leo pour. "Splinter isn't going to be very pleased that you imbibed alcohol, Leo. And not just with anything, but his sake."

Leo shrugged, surprising Donatello and the first curl of real worry began to twist in his stomach.

"I'll replace it. Master won't be, uh," he searched for the word and smiled wryly at Donatello; tainted with that same whisper of sadness. He lifted the near-overflowing glass and handed it to his brother. "Ah. He'll get over it."

Donatello sipped the sweet and bitter liquid, still eying Leonardo warily. Of the four of them, Leo would rather cut his own toe off rather than disobey Master Splinter. Something was up. And he couldn't guess what it was about.

Leo fell heavily back into his seat. He winked at Donnie and dropped back another glassful. Donatello sat forward.

"Leo, why don't you tell me -"

Leo interrupted him, his tone sober and heavy, "How's Mikey's arm?"

Donnie sat a little straighter. They'd run into a few Foot soldiers while on a mission for general supplies. So many things were lost when their lair had been infiltrated and destroyed. So many things they took for granted needed to be hunted down, repaired or most disappointing, were simply lost forever. Pictures. Crafts and precious training books, burned or water-logged into nothing more than pulp. Master Splinter had taken it particularly hard.

It had been a long night, with little actually acquired and their spirits had been low to say the least as they were on their way back. Raph was in rare form, belittling and mocking every decision that Leo had made that night which resulted, in his estimation of nothing but one long goose-chase amounting to frustration and empty packs. Even Michelangelo seemed grumpy and off. Donnie had chalked it up to their recent move and the cold meals since the oven was one thing they hadn't replaced yet. Aside from the food April brought over; pizzas, homemade casseroles, and fried chicken; one glorious night of steaks and still warm double-baked potatoes; it had been sandwiches and cold cereal for them.

It was in an alleyway between warehouses halfway through the rail yards and just east of the docks that they'd been attacked. A woman had been leading them. Donatello caught a glimpse of Leo's swords flashing; surprised at the time that she fought with a katana as well, as steel clanged and rang through the fight. He didn't have long to watch the two battle, despite his curiosity, because soon after that Mikey's bright hiss of pain following a gunshot stole his attention.

Donatello considered Leonardo's question. "Well. He's good. Under the circumstances. It missed the bone. Clean shot through the very top of the deltoid, missed any arteries. He'll be pretty sore for a solid week, but he'll recover."

Leo nodded, a grim look on his face as he studied the empty glass in front of him, listening. He glanced up and his eyes were glassy. "That's . . . That's good news. I'm happy." He looked anything but.

Carefully, "That's good, Leo. Because, you don't seem quite yourself tonight."

Ignoring the comment, Leo said, "You know, Donnie," a pause, then, "I rely on you."

Donatello fidgeted. He sipped his drink. Felt a tightness just behind his eyes. He leaned forward and rolled the glass between his hands. He wished that Leo would just come out and explain to him what this was all about.

"For lot of things," Leo added with a slur and harrumphed. He pressed his fingertip to the table's surface. "You're my brother."

"Yes, that's right, Leo," Donatello said with a nervous titter. This was getting bizarre. Maybe Leo was ill.

"But I think of you as my friend, too."

Donatello blinked. As the initial shock wore off, a wavering smile spread on his face. "W-Well, thanks, Leo. I feel the same way. I have for a long time. Since we've just been kids, I guess. Y-You never made fun of what I liked. The books and experiments and stuff."

Leo was nodding and squinting at him. "You know why I don't want Raph to be seein' April, right?"

Donatello swallowed, thrown by the sudden shift in topic. "Uh, no. I mean, I can think why there might be some, uh, complications should things not work out, but, uh, no, Leo. I don't understand this reluctance on your part. It's only serving to further the divide between you two. Why not let it run its course?"

Leo huffed. He glared for a moment at the bottle, then blinked slow and raised his eyes. "When we go out, it's up to me to decide things. Plan. Safeguard. The, the three of you," he pointed out to the empty lair. "And now her. It . . . It scares me, Donnie. There. I said it. It scares the hell out of me. If she gets mixed up with us anymore than she already is and," he rubbed his forehead and crossed his arms, dropping his head, "hurt . . . or worse . . . Raph won't ever . . . even if it isn't that bad, still his head . . . his head will be," he sat back and motioned with both hands near the sides of his head in a circular movement.

Donnie threw back the glass and this time swallowed without needing to clear his throat. The tightness behind his eyes had smoothed out into a pleasant feeling of heady buoyancy. He shook his head and tipped his glass forward. Leo promptly refilled it.

"Leo," Donatello said dryly, "Raph's always like that."

That earned him a chuckle. Leo wiped his mouth. "This is true."

"I think you're just scared about the upheaval. I mean, we're all feeling it. We're just," Donatello searched for the right word, frowning at his lack of eloquence, but realizing it was the alcohol dulling his senses. He picked up one hand and pointed to the ceiling, "Ah, there it is. Adjusting. We're adjusting. And this thing between Raph and April is so new and freaky and crazy and I mean, it's pretty crazy, isn't it?"

Leo huffed a laugh and nodded, "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

"But I don't think it's a bad thing. You know? I . . . I've never seen Raph like this. He's really happy, Leo. When she's with him. He just . . . glows. I think it's real. For them both." Donatello fell silent and shook his head while Leo mirrored the motion.

Suddenly, Donatello lifted his glass, "Here's to love for the lost, right?"

Leo stared at him, head tilted and slightly to one side. His expression guarded but taut with some unfathomable strain. Without a word he picked up the glass, leaned forward to clink it against his brother's rim and then the both of them shot it back.

After a moment, Leo said, "Don, you're smart."

Donnie's grin spread as the heat from the strong wine suffused through his system. He'd wanted some coffee, but this moment, so strange and surreal, captured his full attention. He'd never seen his brother drunk; had never even guessed that Leo ever drank. He'd certainly never had anything like a heart to heart with any of his brothers. Even when facing death on that tumbling tower, he couldn't do more than admit to an embarrassing secret that he felt guilty over. He felt a peculiar sense of being rooted to the spot. Drawn in and fascinated by Leonardo's moment of vulnerability.

"I've been called worse."

Leo laughed a little harder, the sound of it more genuine and natural and Donatello, feeling himself loosening up, joined him; covering his mouth and shushing Leo who raised his brows as though he were shocked he was being shushed by his younger brother.

"Why are you," Donnie started in too-loud a voice. He was promptly shushed harder by Leo, who then broke into giggling. Donatello chuckled and waved his apology. He stretched and nabbed the bottle's opening with one finger and slid it closer to himself. He poured a glass and quickly threw it back. The sake was starting to actually taste good. Emboldened by the liquor, Donatello decided to get right to the point. "Why don't you tell me what's really going on, Leo."

Leo was quiet for so long that Donatello felt himself grow aggravated and a little miffed that he was being ignored. He felt the back of his neck heat, but just as he figured Leo wouldn't ever answer, his brother spoke.

"That woman tonight," he began and kept his eyes from Donatello, off to one side, to the ground. He went on, hedging a little, "The one with the Foot. Her name is Karai."

Donatello felt himself go very still, the room spun slightly. "Karai? Wait. How do you know her name?" he asked carefully.

Leo shrugged and then wiped his mouth roughly. He leaned forward onto the table suddenly and stared into Donatello's eyes with an intensity that made him uncomfortable. The melancholy expression had twisted into something more anguished. His brother was obvious struggling with something. And Donatello suddenly felt a sliver of fear.

"I know her name because I've spoken with her before."

"What?" Donnie exhaled the question.

"Donnie, listen. Listen to me, because this is important. This isn't what you may think. I don't know what you'll think. Really, I never do, but it's important that you listen to me. Really listen. Will you listen?"

Donatello nodded mutely.

Leonardo's face twisted up in pain. He looked aside. He huffed. He shifted in his seat. He rubbed the top of his head thoroughly with both hands then straightened up.

"I would never put any of you . . . any of you, in jeopardy. You understand that, don't you?" Donatello stared at him blankly. "Never. Okay, so that's clear. Now, the beginning. I . . . I was out. A few weeks ago, remember? Do you remember when Sensei sent me to fetch the water, from that, that truck, remember?"

Donatello nodded, "Yes, Leo. The delivery truck outside April's apartment. The man was refilling the vending machines in the lobby and you were to pick up several cases from the trailer."

"But I didn't."

"No," Donnie said, sweeping his eyes to one side as he remembered. He snapped his fingers. "You came home without the water, saying that there was no truck."

"That I missed it."

Donnie looked back at Leo with a shocked expression. "You lied." Leo nodded, looking miserable. "To Master Splinter. You lied to his face." Stunned as he was by this revelation, the next mental hurdle he cleared left him gaping. "Wait a minute. If you didn't go to pick up the water then . . . then you mean . . ." he frowned deeply. "Are you sitting here telling me you met with this . . . this soldier? This Karai person?"

Leo stared at him steadily with blood-shot eyes, glassy and somber. His mouth was pressed into a tight line. He gave the slightest nod.

Donatello sat back. His shell hit the back of the chair. He stared mutely at his brother as the clock ticked away the seconds.

"Why would you do that?"

Leonardo closed his eyes. His shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Leo, why would you do something so stupid? Why risk your life . . . our lives . . . why . . . how," Donnie trailed off.

"Please, Don. You said you would listen to me. You said that you would."

Donatello opened his eyes and did his best to bite his tongue. He felt like strangling his brother and dragging his shell into their father's room right now and force Leo to confess that he'd done such a foolish thing. Such a dangerous thing. Outrage on behalf of his younger brother hit him suddenly. He bristled. This was beyond hypocrisy. Leo had been giving Raph a hard time for pursuing his feelings with April and here he was doing . . . what? What exactly? Donatello's stomach did a cartwheel and the liquor came up in an acidic wash that had him swallowing with a grimace. This Karai was in the Foot Clan. He didn't know the extent of Leonardo's dealings with this woman, but if Leo was sneaking out to meet with her, for whatever reason, it only spelled trouble. The kind that would get him hurt. Badly. Or worse.

He took in a shaky breath as Leo stared at him. He blew it out. He had to fight every instinct to stand up and scream until Master Splinter came running into the room. He bit his tongue, hard. He needed to know more, needed to know if this was as bad as he feared; he gave Leo an abrupt nod.

Leo took that as a sign to go on in his explanations, "A few weeks after settling here, what? Four months ago? Yeah, feels shorter, but anyway, I stopped a break-in during a solo run. Sometimes I run the fields over near the Henry Street Basin," he explained. "Well, there were a handful of men near some of the trailers. Foot soldiers. It was nothing. Two ran, one I knocked unconscious. Thought I was done. Turned to go. But then, sh-she came out of the fog. She didn't want to fight, Donnie. She just . . . wanted to talk."

Donatello stared hard at his glass, unable to look at his brother, unbelieving what he was telling him. "Why the hell didn't you bolt?" Donnie choked out and Leo flinched at the uncharacteristic use of cursing from his docile brother.

"I can't answer that. I just . . . didn't. But Donnie, she . . . she wasn't afraid. She was . . . interested."

Donatello's eyes flashed behind his glasses, "I bet," he bit out.

Leonardo stiffened. He pushed his glass aside and sat back, falling silent.

"Do I need to remind you of the man she murdered in cold blood while we were in those enclosures? Or the fact that she's part of a terrorist group that takes innocent people hostage and threatens to shoot them? I can't believe . . . I never would have thought . . . to be so easily compromised."

At that Leo's face snapped up. "I am not compromised." The slurring took a backseat to the firm note in his brother's voice.

"Oh, no? I'm sorry, how would you characterize what's going on here?" Donnie slapped the table. "She got in your head, Leo." He jabbed his finger into his temple. "Next you'll be telling me that it isn't her fault that she murdered that man in cold blood. That it was all just a misunderstanding. Or . . . or that she really wants to be free, right? Is that what she's been feeding you?"

Leo didn't flinch at the biting tone of his brother's words. He just sat there, staring at him with that infuriating hang-dog expression.

"I thought . . ."

"What? That she was actually a misunderstood woman with a hidden heart of gold? C'mon, man, think!" he hissed. "This isn't a movie, this is our lives you're mucking around with. And you . . ." he huffed an irritated breath, "You're being played in the most obvious way. I mean, it's painful," Donnie laughed bitterly.

Leo continued to just stare at him with those saddened eyes. "I thought I could talk to you about this."

"And I thought you had a shred of common sense in that skull of yours. You're our leader, Leo. You're supposed to be smarter than this!"

Leo said nothing. He sat and gazed morosely at the bottle in front of him.

"If you continue this madness, I swear I will bring this to Master Splinter. Tell me you're done playing hero to this Mata Hari. Promise me."

Leo nodded, closed his eyes; shook his head. "I'm sorry, Donnie. You're right. I don't know what the hell I was thinking."

Donnie felt some of the heat of his fury abate. He slowly sat back and eyed Leo carefully. He crossed his arms. "It's over, then?" he asked quietly.

"Of course," Leo said automatically; voice flat and emotionless. He raised his eyes to meet Donatello's and there was only pain now, raw and real and it made Donnie's throat tighten to see it there, before Leo could reel it back and cover it with a mask that only hid a portion of what he must have been feeling inside.

"There was never really anything to worry about, anyway, Donatello," he added.

Donnie took note of the formal use of his full name and inwardly cringed. This surreal evening that had started out so nice between them, had evolved into this . . . mess. The bonding that had happened between them seemed to have evaporated like the condensation dripping along the outside of his glass.

"I haven't . . . what I mean is, she didn't," he struggled. "We . . . We'd only ever . . . talked. That's all. That's all, I swear."

Donnie stood up, felt his head nodding. A sinking feeling pulling at him. An irrational anger still lingered in the pit of his stomach and he realized with a start that the source of it was fear. He could have never guessed that his brother would have actively sought out companionship from somewhere in the outside world. Leo, of them all, seemed the most content. The most satisfied with the way things were for them. At least, from the outside, that seemed to be the case.

Until all of this chaos and upheaval had happened with the Foot, Don suddenly recognized. Until Raph and April had started seeing each other more seriously. Until the cracks began to show but no one noticed. Him going out alone more and more. The lies that no one ever suspected. The secrets he guarded so well. The shame from keeping things from them must have been suffocating. It took Leonardo to get himself drunk and vulnerable and trust in Donnie with a secret that was eating him from the inside out . . .

And he'd only mocked him and told him what a fool he'd been. Guilt slithered its way up his spine. He coughed. Weren't they all fools? It wouldn't take much to deceive any of them. And that woman, Karai. She was attractive. Very. And dangerous. Maybe that was part of the allure in the first place, Donnie reasoned. His poor confused brother. What an idiot. Still. Donatello found that he forgave his brother the error in judgment. It was over now, after all. No harm done. Tragedy averted. Possibly a very good lesson learned.

He softened and stepped around the table. Hesitantly, with his head spinning slightly from the movement, he placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. Leo remained motionless. Unresponsive to his touch.

"Leo, even if she was," he strained but managed to get the word out, "innocent, with her in the Foot Clan . . . It would have never worked," he started, wanted to apologize; felt a surge of fierce protectiveness race through him. Who protected the protector? Who shielded the one who always watched everyone else's backs? How did he miss this was happening with Leonardo? What kind of brother, or friend, had he actually been up until now?

Leo stood up smoothly for all the sake he'd drunk. Donnie stepped back, removing his hand and giving him space.

He ducked his head. "I know that, Donnie. I dunno." He sighed heavily. "It . . . It was just nice . . . to talk with someone." He moved around Donatello to leave the room, pitching gently to one side as he walked. "I'll explain to Sensei about the sake. I won't tell him you joined me," Leo said over his shoulder.

Always bearing as much of the load on your own as you can, Donnie thought. And sometimes, too much of it.

"Leo -" You can always talk to me, he wanted to say but couldn't find his voice. The strength of his brother's sadness had somehow suffused the very air around him and he found himself choked on it. "I'm sorry," he croaked.

Leo waved behind his shell. "It's nothin'," he said, the slurring returned and stronger than before. "Just a mistake. Won't happen again. Promise. Cross my heart," he added as an afterthought, twisting around to show his brother how he traced the lines through his plastron to his heart; that terrible sorrow etched deeply in the icy blue of his glassy eyes; a frozen sea of hurt; despite the smile meant to reassure; to protect Donatello from guilt. He slipped through the plastic and was gone.

And somehow Donatello felt he'd just burned a bridge to his brother that he never even knew he was standing on. Or needed.