I don't own them… not even Leo and Donnie… (sad face)

Leo: A Handful of Darkness

I couldn't help but smile as I watched Mikey run around the dojo with Raph and Donnie after him. They were going to give him the tickle torture after pranking us that morning, and, sadly, I was relegated to the position of audience. Don had ordered me to take it easy after my recent fever, but although I was still a bit weak and shaky, I was not going to lie like a slug in the infirmary, with only the voices in my head for company.

The voices. I've been trying to block them out, but they're still there. They aren't as angry or taunting now, but I can still hear them. Like ghosts. Don says auditory hallucinations and my fear of them are symptoms of paranoid schizophrenia. Whether I have it or not is still under debate, but I have a rather nasty feeling that I do.

During my 'episodes', when it gets really bad, the voices become like they were at first – terrifying and out to get me. Sometimes my memory blanks out and I can't remember what I was about to do.

I can also get kind of… unpredictable. One minute I seem perfectly normal and the next I'll find myself ripping the labels off all the tinned food. This caused a few problems the first time with several 'mystery meals', so Mikey took to writing the contents on the top of the can whenever our supplies came in. It was, however, slightly embarrassing when he gave me a pointed glance each time as if to discourage me from repeating the 'experiment'. (I wanted to tell him that it was not my fault, but it was, really.)

However, this did not stop him using it for pranks, including that morning, when the tinned 'peaches' we planned to put on our cereal turned out to be tinned peas. That was why Mikey was now lying curled up on the floor giggling, having been tickled breathless by my twin and his 'accomplice'. Needless to say, he never tried it again, but he still labelled all our tinned food the next day, with Raph checking to make sure each can was correct.

He still gave me that look, though.

As Mikey tried to get up, only to be poked in the sides again and collapse laughing, I started to get that feeling – the one that tells me I need to find a quiet, empty room and wedge myself into a corner so that the episode can pass quickly. As quiet as I could, I edged out of the dojo, then abandoned all stealth and sprinted for the old elevator shaft.

I slid down a pipe, ran into the secret room and shut the door just as the voices began to snicker in my head.

I will not describe just what happens in my mind during an episode. All you need to know is that I spent about ten minutes curled up in a beanbag with my hands over my head, deaf to anything but the voices, who tormented me mercilessly. To tell the truth, that's really as much as I can remember anyway.

When I finally calmed down enough to open my eyes, I could hear a rustling in the beanbag behind me. A hand landed softly on my shoulder, and I knew it was Don checking to see if I was lucid enough to talk. 'You okay, Leo?'

I nodded – episodes often left me exhausted for a while afterwards. 'I'm alright.'

'You're shaking. Was it a bad one?'

'Yeah.'

'Do you need to talk?'

I shook my head – this had been a nasty one and talking would have only prolonged the fear.

'Do you need to be left alone?'

Did I? I thought about it for a second, then shook my head again. I needed someone there.

'Okay.'

Don sat with me until my trembling ceased – saying nothing, but keeping his hand on my shoulder, letting me know he was there and that I didn't have to face my fears alone.

Honestly, I don't know what I'd do without him. We kept each other sane, comforted each other when we fell apart, knew what to do to make the other smile. Without Don, I think I would have lost it a long time ago. A long time ago.

My brothers must be the best in the universe. I mean it - I challenge you to find a family that is stronger or more closely knit than ours. Sure, we've had our bad times, but we always figure it out before long. It was interesting to watch the other facets of their personalities be revealed more often after the Incident, and to have some respite from being the leader, and instead focus on being the brother I often forget to be. I feel like I understand them more than I used to.

Don's change has perhaps been the most dramatic. His stronger half has leapt to the surface, beating the others in sparring almost every time and making him an excellent teacher.

Then there's Mikey. He often appears to be a brainless 'dude', but he's more perceptive than he looks. He's been helping Donnie with ideas for new inventions, and strangely, some of them have actually worked.

Even Raph, our resident hot-headed tough guy, has a softer side that shows in the way he watches out for Mikey during a fight, or drags Don out of the lab to go for a run. No matter how grumpy he may seem, he really does care about us a lot.

No amount of scrubbing could remove every single trace of the writing on my wall. Raph started scavenging for paint, Don stuck notes over it with little stories he remembered from our childhood, and every day there would be a new cartoon drawing, brightly coloured, in the big-eyed anime style that Mikey favoured. None of this completely blocked out the writing, but it helped me to forget it when I had to.

As I said, they are the best.

No doubt about it.

When we returned to the main lair, the others had left the dojo and were watching a movie. I could feel their concerned eyes on me as I sat down, but we were all soon engrossed in Shaun of the Dead and nothing was said – for which I was grateful. Although I didn't mind the concern, I did not want to be treated like an invalid.

After the movie was finished, Raph noticed my yawning and told me to get some sleep. Too tired to argue, I shuffled into my bedroom and flopped down face-first onto my mattress, falling asleep in an instant.

That night, I had a rather strange dream…

'Come down, little ninja. Come down.'

'No.'

'You know you must. We will take care of you.'

'I have my brothers.'

'They take you for granted.'

'I don't care. They are my brothers and I will protect them to the end.'

'Oh, we'll see…'

A laugh – deep, chuckling, evil – as two glittering red eyes herded a figure forward, half-hidden by shadows.

'Light and dark. Yin and Yang. Order and chaos. Life and death. White and black. Good and evil. There is no grey area, Blue. You can only choose one side, and your actions have shown that you will fall into darkness and let it consume you!'

The figure stretched out an arm, and darkness gathered in its palm, tendrils twisting and reaching out to suck the life from whatever they could find.

As the figure stepped out into the moonlight, a black mask fluttered in the wind, framing dark, emotionless eyes that no longer held any life. A cruel smile spread over the green-skinned face, and with a laugh that seemed alien to him, the figure sent forth the shadows to kill and destroy.

I woke to my own terrified yell and heard the sounds of running feet, then the voices of my brothers as they rushed into my room.

'Leo!'

'Ani, what's wrong?'

'You alright, bro?'

'Just a nightmare,' I replied, feeling my heart rate slowly return to normal. 'I'm okay. Really.' Don gave me a strange look and I knew that he didn't believe me. Damn that empathic bond! The others hesitated, but seemed satisfied with my answer and returned to their rooms. My twin, however, didn't seem so sure. 'You are okay, right, Leo?'

'I'm fine now, Donnie. I appreciate your concern, but I'm alright. It was just a nightmare.' I smiled at him and he sighed, relieved. 'Okay. I was just worried, you know. So much has happened in the last month, and -'

'Donnie. Everything's going to be fine. I've made it through tougher things, I can make it through this. I have you three to help me.'

'If you do have paranoid schizophrenia, Leo, you will most likely be dealing with it the rest of your life. And if your empathic ability starts developing further…'

He sighed and sat down next to me on the bed. 'We must have the worst luck in the world. Everything just happens to us , and we usually find ourselves hanging by a thread at the end of it. Heck, it snapped not long ago. When will it stop? Even just for a little while?'

Don looked so forlorn and dejected that on impulse I took his hand and squeezed it, trying to offer some sort of comfort. He gave me a slight smile, whispered a thank-you, and returned to bed. I watched him go until the door shut, then fell back on my pillows and stared at the ceiling. I hated lying to Donnie. That dream had shaken me badly.

Because I had woken on realising that figure had been me.