A/N: This is the beginnings of a story just floating around in my head. Nothing further written yet. Should I continue? Review and let me know.

Lily of the Valley

Leonardo stared down at the sleeping girl, curled up in the covers of her pallet on the floor and cursed himself a thousand times for being such a fool. He shouldn't be in here, it was only going to cause trouble. But the sound of a muffled sob, as he passed her door, drew him like a beacon.

Lily slept, but the state of her bed attested to the restlessness of her slumber. Pillows covered the floor, her tangled hair spread wildly across the sheets, and her feet were trapped in a twist of blankets. Her upper body was exposed and her light t-shirt could not ward off the chill. She shivered, goose bumps appearing on her arms as he watched.

Tears she wasn't aware of flowed down her cheeks, leaving wet trails across her porcelain skin and darkening her long hair, turning it almost black, before soaking into the one pillow she'd managed to hold on to.

Leo's eyes narrowed dangerously and he clenched his fists.

Damn Raphael.

Only an extreme act of willpower and another small whimper from Lily kept him from dashing from the room to find his brother. Leo wanted nothing more than to beat some sense into him. How could he treat her this way?

A beautiful human woman wanted him; a hot-headed, large muscled, mutant freaking turtle and yet he cast her aside and rejected that incredible gift. Couldn't he see the devastation he had wrought?

Probably not since he was ignoring her.

Leonardo sighed as he knelt next to the unconscious girl and began to untangle the sheet and blanket. As soon as he freed her extremities, she curled into the fetal position, still sobbing. He drew the quilt back over her, carefully tucking her in.

He paused by her side. He didn't want to leave her like this, crying, alone in the dark, but he didn't know how to comfort her. It wasn't like he had a wide range of experience with females, April notwithstanding.

Greatly daring, he stretched out his hand and brushed a tear from her cheek with his knuckle, fearing the calluses on his palms would catch on her tender skin. His eyes widened as he touched her. She was so soft and unexpectedly warm that he drew back.

Lily moaned in her sleep and Leo flinched. Her emotional turmoil was killing him, eating away at his insides, poisoning him against his own family. When Raph shattered her heart and told her he didn't want to know her, didn't even want to speak to her again, she had practically died.

He couldn't describe it any other way. For days, she neither spoke nor ate, leaving the trays of food Michelangelo prepared for her untouched and hiding in her designated room with nothing but the rough pallet on the floor.

Didn't Raph know how lucky he was? Could he not understand Leo would give almost anything to have this miracle happen to him? And why would he treat such an innocent girl so shabbily? Even if he didn't return her feelings, that sort of behavior was unacceptable and less than honorable. He could have found some less devastating way to let her know if he didn't care.

Leo wished Raph didn't care, but the most frustrating part of this emotional farce was Leo knew his brother did or he wouldn't have brought her home. Raph was acting the coward, afraid of admitting anyone inside the walls protecting his heart.

Leonardo's walls had already been breached, for something drew him to the gentle, petite girl from the start. At first, Leo thought his own feelings temporary. This was a crush, an instinctive reaction based on her proximity in the lair. It would pass with time.

To combat it, he kept his interactions with Lily polite and professional. She wouldn't be here forever. Eventually, the danger haunting her would pass and she would return to the surface. Even if Raph kept seeing her, she wouldn't be so intimately involved in Leo's daily life anymore.

Unfortunately, her sharp wits, gentle smile and quiet conversation had won him over completely. Now he found himself unable to imagine a day without her in it, and her self-imposed isolation was hurting him far more than it bothered Raphael.

Unable to do more, Leo set his jaw, dragged himself to his feet, and moved as stealthily as possible back to the door, letting himself out.

Behind him, the weeping girl opened her eyes.