Credit goes to Amalia Janeway for helping me polish this up. Thank you, Amalia!

Raph had once said to him, 'Donnie, you're so smart. How'dja get so smart?'

Truthfully, Donatello didn't know. He hadn't meant to, it'd just happened.

So, he grew the smart one, while the rest grew patient, curious and passionate.

Don remembered Raphael as a child. When consumed with worry of the world above, he would turn to their father for comfort and guidance. When he was older, and unable to master something as quickly as the rest, he (sometimes reluctantly and sometimes spitefully) turned to Leo.
Don knew his brother would never openly admit it, but Leo was a big part of who he was.

Last but not least, he would turn to Mikey when he was feeling down and out, and Mikey would brighten his spirits without ever even trying (even if he still looked grumpy afterwards.)

Very rarely did he call upon Donatello for something. Fix this, take a look at that, did you catch that radio program this afternoon, that guy sure was something, huh?

Donatello signed, dropping his head into his hands with a soft smack of flesh hitting flesh that echoed off the walls. He glanced warily at his bed. He didn't think he'd ever get used to the quiet. Even when it was quiet, it was never this quiet.

He remembered staring at the lifeless, crumpled body of his eldest brother, thinking this must be some horrible, terrible dream. He looked up, and Raph was there, inches from his face, yelling, yelling… His body responded by running over, though his mind was blank.
He looked at Leo, his hands, back to Leo, and then to Raph. He was sixteen. When he wasn't learning or worrying about their very survival, he dreamed of exploring black holes and distant planets, interacting with alien life forms, building bridges where gaps were.

'Don, do something!'

Do what? What was he supposed to do? When had he graduated medical school, when had it become his responsibility? He remembered being so angry with Raphael, thrusting the situation into his arms and expecting it to be taken care of, no questions asked.

'Do something!' Raphael yelled again.

He shouted back, though he couldn't remember what. He could play it over and over, but there were always pieces missing. For instance, where was Mikey? When had he gotten separated from the group? The only thing he truly remembered was Raphael's eyes, cold and unforgiving.
'Donatello!'

Don balked, feeling his blood run cold. 'Grab his legs, help me get him home.'

Leo died—instantly or on the way home, he wasn't sure, and his blood was on Donatello's hands, in more ways than one. Raphael blamed him; there was never any question about it. Mikey caught up with them halfway home, grinning and bolting into the story of how he had been separated, when he saw him.

They made the trek home in silence, no one knowing what to say. They argued about where to put him,but Leo ultimately ended up on the ground, Mikey sitting stiffly in front of the him, watching with hurt, confused eyes.

'Leo's dead because of you,' Raphael had said, later, when the family was still wandering around in a daze, his voice odd and muffled. 'Good going, genius.'

'It wasn't my fault,' Don muttered to no one.

'You didn't do anything.'

'Neither did you!' he challenged. 'You were there, Raph, standing right there, and you were just as useless as I was. Don't you dare try and pin this on me!'

Raphael jerked back in surprise. 'You're supposed to be the smart one,' he said. 'You always been good at fixing things. Why couldn't you save him, huh?'

'I didn't know how. It's not fair to blame me.'

'He's right,' Mikey said softly, getting up off the ground and making his way over. 'It's not his fault, Raph. It's not anybody's fault.'

'It is his fault!' Raph shouted, clenching his fists in rage. 'You can't sneak around topside without ever being caught and come home with machinery and computer parts and rig up plumbing and electricity, and not be able to put a few stitches in your own brother to save his life!'

'A few stitches?' Don shrieked, pointing to the mess from dragging Leo inside. 'A few stitches couldn't have saved him, and if you honestly think that, then you're delusional!'

Mikey frowned thoughtfully. 'You guys, Leo wouldn't've wanted us to be at each others throats like this.'

'Like you'd know what Leo'd want,' Raph scoffed.

'Like you would,' Mikey countered with an unusual amount of vigor. 'How do you think I feel, dude? My brother is over there dead, and my other two brothers are acting like giant jerks to eachother. Seriously, Raph. Give Donnie a break.'

Raphael plopped down onto the couch, looking dazed and out of it. He ran a hand down his face, signing long and slow. 'Yeah. I…Sorry. Sorry. What, uh…' he paused, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. 'What are we doin' with the, uh, …body?'

'We will find an appropriate burial site,' Master Splinter said, slowly and carefully stepping into view. He nodded to Leo's body, but did not glance in that direction. 'We will pay our respects, and we will grieve. And then we will attempt to move on.'

He woke to darkness and the low murmur of television somewhere inside the lair, incense strong in his lungs. He made his bed and trudged down the stairs, his stomach growling violently as he got a bowl of cereal. Raph was parked in front of the TV, nothing new, and Mikey was in the dojo goofing off. He cast a sideways glance in the direction of his father's door as he dropped onto the couch beside his brother.

"You look like you had a good night," Raph said, distractedly.

"I had that dream again."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." the spoon clanked against the rim of the bowl, making Raph wince. "Sorry... but yeah. Sometimes I wish it were just a dream. It's always way too real. It's making me feel crazy."

"Did someone say crazy? Donnie, bro o' mine, crazy? Get out." Mikey said without preamble, bouncing past them and landing comfortably in a tattered recliner. "What's on?"

"Can it," Don said, rolling his eyes. "And I have no idea, he's master of the remote today."

"Hnnn," Raph sneered, loving every moment of disbelief on Mikey's face.

"Fantastic," Mike commented unenthusiastically. "This'll be about as fun and interesting as clipping my toenails."

"You whine too much, you know that?" Raph said, making sure everyone knew that important fact.

Mike shrugged and settled into the recliner, digging a comic out of the cushion. He flipped through it and began reading, and then after a while, flipped it shut. "So what's up for this week?"

"TV," Don said around a mouthful of cereal, "training, you helping me update the security system, then probably TV again."

"Sounds rad." he flashed a thumbs up. "So I was thinking, what if we not do any of that totally boring and lame sutff, and go visit Leo?"

Don thought for a while, feeling Raph tense beside him. He said quietly, "I'm fine with that if everyone else is, but I'm not bringing it up with Master Splinter. It's your idea, you ask him."

"Shut up," Raph said under his breath. "Shut up, shut up."

"I hear ya, I hear ya, and you're right. That's fair enough," Mike agreed, holding his hands up defensively. It had been some time since Leo's passing, though breaching the subject of visiting the grave of their dead brother was still a sensitive subject. "I'll take care of dear old dad. The guy needs to get out."

"Well, he's still depressed, Mikey," Don reminded gently, but nodded. "But yeah, I think you're right. A change of scenery might be a good idea, for everyone. Count me in."

Mike twisted around in the chair, directing his full attention on Raph. "Hey, Raph. You in?"

"Would you two numbskulls kindly shut yer yaps?" was Raphael's response.

"Ooh." Mike wiggled his fingers in the air, donning a thick surfer accent. "Sorry for interrupting. He's in," he clarified in a low voice, hoping Raph wouldn't glare at him again. "I think."

Don looked down into his bowl, concentrating hard. It was nice to have things back to normal (as normal as his little family could be), but even a year and a half later, it seemed as though the awkward moments still outweighed the good ones. The silences that always followed were still hard to get used to. Sometimes Mikey would crack a joke, but Don thought that, most of the time, he'd actually prefer the silence.

"Don, you okay?" Mikey asked, waving the colorful comic cover in his face.

"What? Yeah, fine."

"You sure? You're kinda creepy when you space out like that. You gotta start getting to bed at a decent hour, you know."

He breathed in deeply. "Yeah, I know."

"Let me guess, World's Most Valuable Pocket Protector on Ebay? Something dorky like that, right?" his eye ridges bounced up and down. "Am I warm?"

Don shook his head slightly, smirking. "No, nothing like that."

"Then what's the deal?"

"I keep having that dream." he shrugged a shoulder.

"Dude!" Mike sat forward, hands on his knees. "I've been having those dreams, too. That's why I asked if we could go. Now that we're all on the same page here," he continued, ignoring Raph, who was scowling and grating his teeth. "I gotta know. Would you've done anything different?"

"What do you mean, Mike?"

"The night Leo... y'know. Would you guys have done anything different? Like, I would've really tried not to get separated from you guys, that's for sure. I always try to, in these dreams, but it never really works out the way I want it to."

Don was the first to answer. "I would've done a lot of things differently, if I'd known."

"What about you, Raph?"

"What about me?" he snapped, thick arms folded across his chest, remote in hand. He didn't break eye contact with the TV, just kept on glaring at it.

"Wow, never mind," he said with a shrug. "I was just thinking, s'all."

Raph snorted. "That's a first." he tossed Mikey the remote. "I'm outta here, I got plans with Case."

Don set his bowl aside and said he'd be back. He had a strange feeling that maybe Raph didn't actually have plans with Casey, and that maybe talking about Leo was still uncomfortable. He followed, hoping to catch Raph before he went topside. "Hey!" he called, sprinting through the sewers. "Raph, wait up!"

Pausing halfway up a manhole ladder, he muttered between clenched teeth, "I've got my cell on, I'll be back in a couple of hours, don't wait up."

"That's not what I wanted to talk to you about," he informed him, taking a few steps closer. "Mikey talking made me think. Do you still blame me for what happened?"

Raph sighed and swore beneath his breath. "Not this. Go be deep with Mikey if that's what you wanna do, I got plans."

"Do you still blame me, Raph, yes or no?" he asked again, nearing the ladder. "I need to know."

"I don't know!" he snapped, glaring. Street lamp light spilled in through the round holes of the manhole, catching portions of his face. "Kind of. I guess. I know it wasn't your fault, but…Nah." he shrugged. "I don't. I mean, I knew you couldn't fix 'em. I was just angry. I said stuff…didn't mean it, y'know? Then I never said nothin' 'cause—I just hate it when you guys go on n' on about it. Leo's dead. Time to move on."

Don smiled gently, folding his arms across his chest. "You're really different, you know, from how you used to be.."

"Ohmygod, Don," Raph rasped, irritated. He hung limply from the ladder, his head dropping back. He gestured back in the direction of the lair. "You're killin' me. Why's everything gotta be a soap opera with youse two?"

"Look.. I know we're not very close, and I know Leo's passing was really hard on you, but you've really changed for the better, and I think he'd be surprised. Just...wanted to tell you."

"That's great and all, but wait till I'm drunk, yeah?" Raph suggested, gesturing topside.

"Yeah," Don said softly, nodding. "Just… could you call? Just so we know?"

Raph hoisted the manhole up and shifted it to the side. He crawled up and began to replace it, mumbling in a singsong voice, "driving me nuts, bro."

"Hey, I'm related to Mikey, what can I say?" Don shot back. "So, you'll call?"

"Yeah, maybe!" Raph hissed, the manhole clinking loudly into place, and then silence.

Satisfied, Don trotted back into the lair, made himself another bowl of cereal, and watched cancelled sitcom reruns with Mikey, musing about the past. All in all, it was a good night.