It's easy to forget who you are, in this business of these paper stars.
Responsible was the best word to apply to Leonardo. At least, the Leonardo that everyone knew. The katana weilding turtle, calling orders, lifting his hands to sly the enemy. The turtle who bowed his head to his sensei, who hung on to every word.
But this Leo wasn't the one that he felt like on the inside. Alone at night, he felt lost, empty. Alone. There were nights when he sat up, creeping around the sewers to hide in the shadows. The shadows where he felt he belonged.
There were nights when he'd look up at the faint moonlight, straining through the dirt and debris of New York City to shine through the grate, at the filth that found its way to the bottom of the sewer. Where he was. Where he felt like he belonged.
The nights were always the hardest part, even though the nights were so often when they went to the surface. How was it that they could swing in and rescue people, but they couldn't accept their thanks afterwards? How was it that they were responsible for the well being of so many people, people who could never look at their face?
Splinter had once told him that the greatest reward for doing all they had done was the satisfaction of knowing they had saved lives. But just once, Leo wanted to have someone look up at him, to meet his eyes, and know. He wanted to feel that warmth of gratitude, of the depth of what he had just done, he wanted to feel it spreading from his chest to his fingertips.
And instead he was down here in the darkness.
Those nights, he watched the feet of the people watching him buy. It was the city that never slept, and there was always someone going somewhere. Those people, mostly unaware of the dangers that awaited them at every corner. Those people, mostly unaware of the unseen saviors who kept them.
Leo curled his knees up to his chest, his katanas as always resting at either side of him.
"My son?" Splinter's voice was gentle.
"Hi, Sensei." he mumbled, not tearing his eyes from the grate.
"What are you doing so late?"
"Thinking." he didn't really want to tell the whole story, didn't want to let Splinter know that he was so—dissatisfied.
"I forget," Splinter started in that same soft tone. "I forget that you are so like your brothers in some ways. You want the same things they want, you desire the same freedoms they crave. I forget because you are not so outspoken in your wanting. They clamor, while you sit quietly with your want and keep it inside."
"Because I know why it's bad, I know why you're right." one hand reached for a sword.
"But that doesn't somehow doesn't make it better, does it?" Leo just shook his head. Splinter sighed and walked over to him, one hand on his larger than life shoulder.
"I am sorry, my son."
"What for, Sensei?" he looked up, surprised.
"I am sorry that this is the life you have. Please know, Leonardo, that I would do anything to change it for you. I wish that I could-." his son cut him off.
"I like this life. With you and my brothers. It's only sometimes that I feel this way."
Splinter watched him for a moment and bent down and hugged him as tightly as he could. Leo felt himself break, just a tiny bit. His pressed his face into the crook of Splinter's fuzzy neck. He was not ashamed of the few tears that dripped from his eyes.
For a moment, they stood wrapped. It was nice to know that someone saw his pain. It was nice to know that someone cared. Leo buried his face farther into Splinter's neck.
He felt a little less alone.