Disclaimer: Seriously...no not mine :*(

A/N: First off, a heart-felt THANK YOU to TheIncreadibleDancingBetty for her help with Leo's condition (which still remains a mystery, sorry). I cannot thank her enough! And thanks so much to all who have taken the time to read this and review to this. So finally we get to Leo (I hope I wrote him ok…) Enjoy, and if you feel so inspired to leave a review, I would be very grateful!

Chapter 3

It was getting harder to hide. Insidious and darker than the shadows it snuck upon him. It had started out small, delicate like a fine lace and hardly perceptible in the darkness. But piece by piece it began to tip the scales, to a point where denial was becoming an impossibility. With every change, every barely covered slip up, the blue masked turtle began to feel the fear manifest, gaining a terrifying reality all of its own; the uncertainty of the unknown fuelling its relentless hunger as it threatened to take him down.

Alone in the dojo, he breathed in deeply to clear his mind, the shuttering of his shoulders through the inhale betraying his anxiety. He tried to convince himself that everything he was experiencing was perhaps because he was not meditating enough; not developing his spiritual side as much as his physical side. He was becoming unbalanced, his mind/body connection teetering dangerously on a crumbling ledge. It was the only logical explanation, right?

Right?

He knew whatever it was, this weakness, he needed to fix it soon before his family noticed. He was the leader. It was his job to be the strong one and watch over them; to protect them. How could he if…

His katana wavered in his hand, as if his fingers were refusing to answer to his heed. This had been happening progressively for a few months now, a gradual weakening in his hands, effecting his ability to grip or lift things. At first, it was easy enough to ignore, to brush aside as a passing illness or perhaps fatigue from over training. Up to this point, he had been able to keep his brothers and sensei unprivy to this with some creative thinking - such as insisting his brothers needed more sparring time against each other, but as the months wore on and things only got worse instead of better, he feared that his diversions would not be efficient for much longer.

A few times he had found himself outside of Don's lab, poised to knock and ask for his assistance, but informing his brother would have made it feel more real, putting it in the open like that. Thus, every time he lowered his hand and turned heel to leave, and whatever it was remained unknown; untold; yet forever looming over him like a demented spectre, twisted and ugly.

He let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, glancing at the clock. Mikey and Splinter would be in the dojo for evening practice soon. He needed control. He needed calm. He needed focus.

He turned his ocean blue eyes to his hand, willing his fingers to stay closed, to maintain their grip on the hilt of his katana. It had never been to this degree before. The ninja blade had never felt so heavy, reminding him of his younger years and the first times he tried to lift his beloved katanas. He sucked in another breath. Control. Calm. Focus.

Focus.

Why couldn't he focus? He braced himself against the wall, the sharp bricks digging painfully into the flesh of his arm. He tried desperately to reign in the anxiety, to still the racing of his heart, the speeding of his breathing, the thoughts that something genuinely was wrong. He had faced armies of Foot Soldiers without flinching and hoards of Kraang without so much as a quiver, so why was he beginning to feel the panic creep in, stalking at him from the shadows? He felt alone, a single icy glacier set adrift in the sea to melt in the spring.

The katana began to shake with more intensity, the tip making contact with the wall and giving a metallic ring with every hit. His grip faltered, wilting slowly like so many plants in a drought. Leonardo watched helplessly as his katana clattered to the floor. Control. Calm. Focus. He felt his grip on them wither away as well, dry and destitute in the thirsty sand.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

Michelangelo propped his skateboard upon the wall and hopped gracefully over the turnstiles at the entrance to the lair. Shutting off his ipod and stuffing it into his belt, he lifted the headphones off his ears and placed them around the back of his neck, the cord dangling down and brushing gently upon his plastron as he walked. The lair was ominously quiet, greeting his return home with a hushed uncertainty. A frown twitched at the corners of his normally joyful countenance, appearing as out of place as the silence hanging in the air.

He hadn't missed practice again, had he? He had made sure to be home in time, not wanting to invoke an unpleasant punishment from Master Splinter. Raphael and Donatello had received permission earlier to forgo lessons today, as he allowed from time to time, but with two off the hook, that meant all the more Mikey would be expected there.

Longing for some sound to fill the void, he dropped himself heavily onto the couch and switched on the TV. Flicking through the channels aimlessly and being sure to pay attention to the time (he had a few minutes to spare before he had to go into the dojo), he couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. It made his stomach feel sour and unsettled like the time he had eaten week old pizza that had been tucked in the back of the fridge.

He glanced over his shoulder to the dojo, realizing that he should have heard something from in there. Leonardo was always the first in the dojo to warm up before lessons. The light was on, he observed, but no noises coming from within. He scrunched his snout in concern before letting out a decisive huff of air and flipping himself over the back of the couch, landing with none of his usual flourish. Mikey intensely disliked this uneasy sensation filling him and kicking his optimism out to the curb to get picked up by the trash guy. It was not at all pleasant….like how Raph smelled after practice...or having to do fifty flips because he didn't clean his bedroom, or…

His musings ended at the sight of Leonardo kneeling on the ground at the far wall of the dojo, staring silently at his katanas which were before him on the ground. He was trembling ever so slightly, like leaves in a light breeze. Mikey rushed to his side, but Leo made no indication that he noticed him.

"Leo?" Mikey asked cautiously, gently. It was as if his brother were made of glass, and at the slightest disruption he would shatter. The anxiety was rolling of his Leonardo in waves, and it worried the youngest turtle. "Dude?"

Leonardo's ocean blue eyes met Mikey's baby blue ones, a flash of fear in their depths. Michelangelo barely caught the flicker before it passed and was replaced by an impassive wall. Hastily erected, impossible to scale, it shut Mikey out, but captured Leo within. It was the castle of leadership: composure, calm, commanding respect; it didn't fool Michelangelo for a second.

"You ok, bro?" His voice was soft, sweet like a downy chick. He reached out a hand toward his elder brother, hesitating for a fraction of a moment before placing it comfortingly on Leo's shell.

"Of...of course I am." A subtle shakiness edged his words. "Nothing is wrong." He shifted his gaze to his hands, the only part of him which was still quaking at this point. "Nothing." He echoed as an after thought, more to himself than to Mikey, as if trying to futilely convince himself of something. "Just tired." He continued in a trailing whisper.

Mike wanted to believe his brother. He trusted Leo, trusted his leader to be honest with him, but at this moment in time, the orange masked turtle didn't. There was no other way for Mike to convince himself otherwise. Leo was lying. There was a vague translucency in Leo's words, as if part of him wanted to be found out; wanted Mikey to figure out what he could not get himself to speak of in the open.

"Want me to get Sensei?" Mike questioned.

"NO!" Leonardo's collected poise faltered again, the dread once again flaring to life in his eyes, the sea choppy in a relentless storm. Yet as before, it was swiftly brushed aside, winds blowing away the clouds. "No." Leonardo repeated. "We need to practice Mikey. Master Splinter will be in here soon. There is no need to fetch him."

Mikey nodded in concurrence and took a step back as Leo rose to his feet.

"Mikey? Could you...uh...get my katanas for me?"

The younger brother's brow furrowed in confusion, his orange mask crinkling between his eyes as he eyed Leo suspiciously. He bent down to retrieve the swords, never removing his attention from Leonardo, and reached out to hand them to the blue masked leader. Leonardo shook his head sharply, doubt lining his features.

Leo racked his brain for an excuse, a distraction, a diversion, anything to deter the wariness that filled Mikey's wide eyes. Thankfully, the eldest brother's strategic mind did not have to plot for long, as his thoughts were interrupted by the rhythmic clacking of Splinter's cane upon the cement floor and the gentle swish of his kimono with every graceful step. Leonardo's momentary feeling of relief was instantly replaced by a sudden feeling of dread as the realization struck him at how helpless he must appear right now...and at how observant his father could be without his sons even being aware.

"Greetings, my sons," Splinter announced in a placid tone.

Mikey caught the faint scent of incense clinging to his sensei's fur as he drew closer, most likely from a recent meditation session in his room. His keen chocolate eyes settled on his oldest son after passing quickly over Mikey. He held Leo's gaze, the latter stock still with a wavering air of forced self-composure surrounding him. Leo wished he could grab onto the confidence and place it before himself like a shield, but it had formed a hasty retreat under his father's pointed stare. The mutant rat stopped a few feet in front of Leonardo, regarding him thoughtfully, his expression unreadable.

"Leonardo," he began in a measured tone. "You seem…" he paused and began to stroke his thin white beard deliberately, as if searching for the right word. "...Preoccupied."

"Me?"

Splinter arched a bemused eyebrow and replied in a playful, slightly sarcastic voice, "Do I have more than one son named Leonardo? Hmm...I did not think so...I don't recall naming the orange one over there Leonardo. I must be getting senile in my old age."

Mikey sniggered off to the side, but Splinter's sidelong glance of warning stopped the youngest mid-chuckle. Mike placed a hand over his mouth to stifle the trailing end of his snicker before clearing his throat innocently.

Splinter raised himself up to his full height, placing one arm behind his back, the other gripping the top of his cane. As an adult, Leonardo was almost as tall as his father, but the appraising look the ninja master was giving him right now made the blue banded turtle feel as if he were a small child again, caught in awe under the towering height of a parent. After a few stretching moments, Leonardo averted his gaze from his father's, remaining stoically silent, but the remaining undertow of his nervousness churned under the surface, a current in the opposite flow of his well practiced face of fortitude.

How long can you keep this up, Leonardo? he asked himself apprehensively. He wondered how his father seemed to have the uncanny ability to be able to stare into his sons' souls.

Splinter turned his attention to Michelangelo, the sharp motion of his head having lost all of his normal ninja fluidity. Mike startled at the sudden movement, but he quickly regained his composure when he noted the seriousness held in his sensei's expression.

"Michelangelo…" Splinter said, "Leave us. I need to speak with your brother."

Mike's eyes darted between Splinter and Leo. He noticed Leo cringe at his father's words. Mike nodded numbly and turned to leave. He normally would have made some comment about his excitement about having no training...but now didn't seem the time. His silence felt almost appropriate, and Mikey wasn't always the best a gauging appropriate behavior for given moment.

Splinter senses something is wrong too...Mike thought worriedly as his slow, plodding steps took him closer to the door.

"Leonardo," Splinter began, his concern for his son a balm coating his words. "I have noticed your distraction lately...but never mentioned it before now. I felt it was maybe something you needed to work through. But today…" He paused. "Something has changed."

"N-Nothing has changed, Sensei. I am f-fine," Leo's words faltered. He refused to meet Splinter's gaze.

"Leonardo," Splinter repeated his son's name, this time with more force and bluntness in his tone. He knew his son was proud and hated to disappoint him. "It is alright. Nothing you tell me will make me think less of you. What bothers you?"

"Nothing, absolutely nothing," Leonardo repeated, subconsciously taking a step back towards the wall.

Raising his sons alone and with the struggles of their early years had given Splinter a rare insight into each of his four sons which many human parents were not able to obtain in their busy day to day lives on the surface. He had long ago learned each of his boys' quirks and strengths and the endearing qualities which made them all so different and dear to his heart. Splinter had known from early on that Leonardo was a terrible liar. Mike and Raph had it down to a science, Donatello had never really seemed to try, but Leonardo…

"Lies only bring pain, my son," Splinter sighed sounding distant. His eyes flickered to the picture he kept on the mantle of when he was human along with his wife and baby daughter. Leo noticed and knew his father was thinking of Karai and the lie she had lived her whole life with Shredder posing as her father. "Pain...and loss…"

Leonardo swallowed heavily, but the lump in his throat refused to budge. He watched as Splinter went over to his tree and then sat under it on his knees. He motioned for Leonardo to join him. Leo nodded his acknowledgment, and took a step forward.

The pain was quick and took him by surprise. A burning, lancing tightness in his leg overtook him, causing him to bring in a sharp intake of breath at the sudden intensity of it. He went to grab at his leg, but for some reason, this sudden motion caused his other leg to buckle and he tumbled back, his head making contact with the rough brick wall. Blackness consumed his consciousness immediately, and he fell limply to the ground. Splinter was immediately by his side, calling frantically to his eldest son. Michelangelo heard the commotion and came rushing in.

"Master Splinter...what…" Mike began, but was cut off by his father.

"Call your brothers," Splinter ordered. "We need Donatello…"