Whispered Conversations

Set in the 2003 cartoon continuity, contains spoilers for the episodes Exodus (part 2) and Same As It Never Was. Turtles aren't mine, in case for some reason you thought otherwise.

After I watched Exodus, I thought, surely Leonardo couldn't have been the only one to walk away from that episode with issues. Don must have had some pretty substantial thoughts of his own regarding the incident!

Donatello couldn't sleep. Sprawled on his pallet, he struggled with specters in his mind. Though Master Splinter had bid them rest, and he truly wanted to obey, his thoughts wouldn't be still long enough for sleep to come. The memories of his recent experiences plagued him.

Nor was he the only one. After what felt like hours of self-inflicted torment, a slight motion by the window provided a welcome distraction. And speaking of haunted… Leo sat slumped there, away from them all, kissed by a faint trickle of moonlight through the curtains. Leo had shivered. That's what had caught Don's attention. He was awake, Don knew. After recent events, he supposed all his brothers had their ghosts to lay to rest, but Leo's had consumed him ever since the Utrom had snatched them from Shredder's ship.

After a moment of hesitation, the desire for companionship in his troubles grew too strong to resist. He rose silently and padded over to crouch before his sullen brother.

"You okay?" he whispered, quiet as the wind outside. It wouldn't do to disturb Sensei.

Leo held his silence for a moment, then glanced up at him. "I'm fine," he murmured back.

"You shuddered."

Leonardo huffed a quiet sigh, but said nothing.

"Leo," Don breathed in pain. His older brother was not fine at all, no more than Don was. For a second, he saw his elder elder brother, the one from the alternate future whose face and heart had been so badly scarred by a future past that would never happen to them. Reaching up, his good hand faltered over Leo's bandaged shoulder, then rose to brush at his face where the scars would have been. Leonardo's shoulders tensed, but he didn't resist the touch. "I saw the future," Don whispered gently, wanting him to understand. "The future the Shredder would have made. Leo…"

When Donny's voice faltered, Leo's hand came up to cover his, holding it against him. "Don. I know. I saw it too."

Donatello nodded, blinking sudden tears from his eyes. "Then you know. That…" He couldn't finish what he'd been about to say. It scared him too much. "It was horrible, Leo," he said instead. "I watched you all die. And…and I didn't mind so much, you know, because…" Because you were already gone inside, he intended to say, but his throat mercifully sealed around words too terrible to speak. Instead, he pulled his brother toward him, wanting a hug. When Leo resisted—had it hurt his shoulders?—he settled for dipping his head and resting it against him. "It would've been worse, Leo," he voiced his earlier thought. "Twenty, thirty, forty years of…of living death under that monster, and then it would've all ended the same anyway. You—they all suffered so badly. So badly. I would have done anything to spare them what they endured."

At that, Leo's arms finally came up around Don. "You did, Don," he reassured him. "It'll never happen, now."

Leo wasn't getting it. Shaking his head, Don tried to clarify. "It was okay, Leo. We were all going to die, and it was okay."

But it wasn't okay, was the point. The quality of Leonardo's silence testified to his agreement on that. Oh, he laid no blame on Donatello. Leo was doing his Leo thing and holding himself accountable. Only that wasn't right, either. Clinging to his older brother's reassuring presence, Donatello sought words to explain his careening thoughts on the issue. It wasn't Leo's fault. It wasn't Don's fault. They'd had no choice: end the Shredder, along with themselves, or condemn whole worlds of people, including themselves. But did that make it right?

"It wasn't right, Leo," he decided. "But it was what we had."

"I know," his brother agreed in a tone that accepted nothing.

Don bowed his head in recognition. But, "We're not dead," he pointed out.

Confused by such an obvious statement coming from Don's mouth, Leo glanced at him. The earnest expression Don wore might've gotten through, because his face changed. "No, we're not," he agreed again.

He couldn't save Leo from himself, Don reflected, settling in at his brother's side, but maybe he could leave some signposts. Except for Leo's breathing by his ear, the room went silent again as Don finally drifted off to sleep.