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No Longer Responsible

TMNT Fan Fic by teh Vilsy

A/N: Peter Laird, Kevin Eastman, Mirage Studios… talk to them if you wanna know who's responsible for these lovable green fellows. Not me of course.

Thanks again for reading! The kind reviews are really encouraging and I'm happy, and frankly surprised, at what a positive response the story is receiving. I'm working extra hard to try not to disappoint! Hope you enjoy Chapter 4!

Raphael's robust frame nearly took up the entire door frame. Those long months of excessive if not obsessive weight lifting and secret vigilantism had certainly done wonders for his build. Michelangelo often joked that both he and Donatello combined could fit easily into Raphael's shell. Raphael always regarded this comment with a raised fist. But, Michelangelo found nothing funny about it now. Despite how intimidating Raphael was, it was Leonardo that had him shaken.

Effortlessly, the blue-clad turtle moved Raphael aside, seemingly without having to touch him. With a vexed grimace, Raphael yielded and stepped back into the hall as if pushed aside by Leonardo's sheer will. He moved through the door and stood just inside the room, staring at Michelangelo for a few silent moments before looking to Donatello. He was treated to a view of the back of his brainy brother's head; Donatello was still stubbornly ignoring their presence. Michelangelo was practically trying to retract into his shell from his seat beside the workbench as Leonardo's scrutinizing gaze returned to him. He looked as riled as a parent whose children had misbehaved more times than he could bear.

"I cannot begin to fathom what you two are doing in here," he began in a low tone, so deep within his throat that it sounded like the soft rumbling before a clap of thunder.

Donatello twitched visibly. The condescending way in which his brother had spoken had sparked the pang of anger that had been continuously stewing in the pit of his stomach. He finally placed the wrench down on the bench top and turned the chair in the direction of the doorway. Before he could open his mouth, Michelangelo stood up abruptly and spoke.

"Leo, look I can explain," he said resolutely, gathering the courage to defend Donatello and himself if possible. "Donnie was just--"

"Michelangelo!" Leonardo bellowed abruptly and took a single step forward. It was enough to elicit an "eep!" from the orange-clad brother and sucked out any bit of confidence in his sweet-talking that he had left. Leonardo had often reprimanded him in the past, but there was a shortness and almost ruthlessness in his voice that gave Michelangelo the chills. "Get out. Right now."

"Whuh...?" It felt so much like Deja Vu.

"Get out!" Leonardo said more forcefully, pointing behind him to the hallway where Raphael stood, somewhat anxiously.

"No."

Leonardo's brown eyes turned intently to Donatello as if he had slapped him across the face without getting up from his workbench. "What...?"

Donatello's right hand clenched into a fist as it rested on his knee, and he did not allow Leonardo the chance to further question his outburst. "I said no, Michelangelo does not have to 'get out'." He slowly stood up; his tired muscles forcing him to assert his position. "This is my lab and I invited him in. You don't have the right."

If Leonardo had hair, it would have been bristling on end. Instead, in a few quick strides he had crossed the room and was standing uncomfortably close to Donatello. "And you, Donatello," Leonardo began as if the previous few statements had been inconsequential. "I'm finding it difficult to tolerate this sudden behavior of yours."

"Oh? And what behavior would that be?" the violet-clad brother inquired with a hard tinge of arrogance cast into his voice.

Michelangelo bit his lip and surveyed all three of his brothers-- first to Leonardo and Donatello who looked like they would burn holes through each other with their gazes, then reluctantly to Raphael who had moved his way back into the entry way with crossed arms.

"Well, let's see," Leonardo mused sarcastically, rubbing his chin for effect as he turned to face Michelangelo, feigning deep thought. "First of all, you suddenly find it necessary to not only question, but to interfere with Michelangelo's training. You know the rules and yet here you two are, breaking them like it's all fun and games."

Michelangelo drew back again; the guilty feeling that he was the cause and focus of this confrontation was consuming him.

Donatello tilted his head slightly at the statement. "Training? I wouldn't call it training anymore, Leonardo. It's more like some sort of power trip, or some weird residual fear tactic you picked up from the jungle."

Leonardo ripped his line of sight away from Michelangelo and looked as if Donatello had once again struck a blow without lifting a finger. Raphael stirred in the doorway, looking between Donatello and Leonardo with a rare air of uncertainty as if he wanted to step into the argument but, for once, was at a loss for words.

Donatello took the opportunity to continue. The words coming out more confidently, forcefully. "I understand that you're trying to strengthen us, Leonardo, but alienating Mikey isn't going to make us a stronger team."

"He brings it on himself, Donatello," Leonardo insisted, pointing an impatient finger at Michelangelo. "This childish behavior he insists on pursuing-- he'd rather be playing video games and skateboarding than focusing on what's important. And you, Donatello, are encouraging him?" He motioned to the skateboard that lay securely in the vise on the workbench. "What's gotten into you?" he added with a vibe of disappointment and confusion in his voice.

"Maybe if you stopped treating him like a child, he wouldn't act like one!" Donatello interjected, taking a step forward and standing as tall as he could to compete with Leonardo's solid presence. "He's your brother, Leonardo! We're standing here talking about him like he's not even right there!" He pointed to Michelangelo who wanted nothing more than to phase into the wall. "You've got to stop treating us like there's something wrong with us!"

"Oh, so this is my fault again, huh?" Leonardo seethed, lifting a hand to press against his chest. "Yes, let's go down that dusty road again, shall we?" Raphael seemed more uncomfortable in his position at the door, and Michelangelo could tell it was taking everything in him to not burst into the conversation.

"Don't put words into my mouth! And stop with that high and mighty--"

"Discipline," Leonardo suddenly barked, cutting Donatello off, "is what this team needs to keep together. And if Michelangelo doesn't learn it, or you, Donatello, falter in yours, we're going to have weak links in our chain." Donatello's dark eyes were full of anger and frustration. Leonardo knew, or at least thought he knew, that he had struck at the right spot to put Donatello back into place. Back into his right mind. "Sensei charged me with the task of bettering myself, so that I could keep us focused, strong, disciplined. I've accepted my responsibility and I intend to honor it."

"Father has given me a charge of my own," Donatello promptly retorted in a calm but shaky voice. His anger was bubbling deep within his eyes but the aghast look on Leonardo's face was enough to keep him placidly satisfied. "Master Splinter told me that I must be strong when my brothers are weak if we are to stay a family." He glanced over Leonardo's shoulder at Raphael, remembering all of the times he had to endure the bully-like disrespect from his own brother. "And right now, brother, I'm telling you that you're the weak link."

"How dare you?" Leonardo demanded in a slow voice.

Donatello stood firm. "You're paranoid, overbearing, you don't listen, and you're alienating us. You act like Michelangelo and I are slowing you down. Like we've been sitting around being completely useless for two years. I'll have you know that we were the only ones doing anything around here to try to keep it together!" Raphael twitched at this statement, but continued to stand wordlessly
at the door. "While you were on your great pilgrimage, Michelangelo worked very hard doing some really unglamorous work, and he didn't complain to me once. He took it all in stride and still had a smile on his face when he came home everyday. I was too jaded to appreciate it then, but if that's not exhibiting your precious discipline, I don't know what else you can ask from him. It's a lot more than I can say for your wingman over there."

"Hey," Raphael finally remarked sternly, unfolding his arms and lifting a defensive finger towards Donatello.

"No Raph, let me finish." Donatello directed his attention back to Leonardo's blank face. He felt everything that he had been holding inside for the past couple of weeks finally burst at the seams. "I'm tired of you chastising Michelangelo for all of his faults and ignoring his strengths. When the chips are down, I've seen his dedication and loyalty, but that doesn't mean anything to you? And I may not be the strongest fighter, or have the most endurance, but I'd lay my life down for any of you guys. I wish you wouldn't feel like you need to beat that fact out of me every time we're in the dojo. You think saving our family is all about fighting? Both of you? You know there's more to our lives than just being your soldiers."

Leonardo tensed, remembering a distant night on the rooftops in the harsh, pouring rain. The spiteful, belligerent scowl on Raphael's face. I'm through takin' orders... He never thought he would see that look on Donatello's face, and yet there it was. Staring him down without restraint. After all he had done-- all he had gone through in the steaming hot jungles of Central America, alone, by his master-- his own father's wishes. The long, cold, dark nights, alone. All in the name of family. And this was the gratitude he received in exchange? It was happening all over again. Donatello was trying to upset the balance that he was working so tirelessly to maintain--the strength he was trying to build in them. Why? Why won't they understand? Why won't they cooperate? Why aren't they afraid of what might happen to them if they don't become stronger? Afraid of what might be lurking undetected in the darkness of the city at that very moment? Why won't they listen to reason?

You've got to listen to reason. You'll destroy us all.

A dark, broken memory gripped Leonardo's mind's eye. A horrible blackness washed over his consciousness and an immense figure of evil held him high above the ground, dangling helplessly from an iron grasp.

Then so be it.

Leonardo was forcefully thrown to the ground. The gigantic, ominous aberration loomed before him, intent on extinguishing him and the three who stood behind him, whom Leonardo held so very dear.

He felt a hopelessness and a despair that shook his very soul. If only they had been stronger, this monster might have been vanquished forever. Was it his own weakness that brought this torture upon his loved ones? He could not let it happen again. Not at any cost.

For a moment, Donatello glared into the glazed over eyes of his brother, searching desperately for the warmth and sense that use to be housed there. Now he could only see a transfixed mania of someone locked in a distant trance, and then something even more frightening-- a dark stare, as if Leonardo no longer recognized him and was gazing at a hated enemy.

"I won't let you do this. I won't let you destroy my family."

"What are you talking a-"

Donatello's face suddenly whipped to the side as Leonardo's curled fist connected to his jaw like a truck slamming into a brick wall. In an instant, a streak of red spilled from the corner of Donatello's mouth. It occurred so quickly that the others had difficulty registering what had happened before Donatello had stumbled backward, his shell impacting against his workbench with a jarring "thud."

"Donnie!" Michelangelo cried out, stretching his arms out as if to catch his brother, but he was too far away.

"Leo!" came Raphael's bellowing and clearly shocked voice. He quickly moved from the door toward the blue-clad turtle, yellow eyes blazing. "Are you out of your fing mind?!" Still, he could not reach them in time.

"Bastard!" Donatello suddenly hissed, flecks of blood spraying from his agonizingly sore mouth. Despite all his body had endured that day, he lunged forward and threw himself at Leonardo, head held low as he football tackled the larger turtle to the hard tile floor. Raphael and Michelangelo's instincts kicked in and they were upon their two brothers in the next instant. Raphael's strong arms were hardly able to squeeze between the tight grapple Donatello and Leonardo were locked in. Leonardo's hands were gripped firmly around Donatello's biceps in a desperate yet fierce attempt to pull his brother's arms away from him. Donatello's dark eyes shone with a vengeful rage as he channeled every bit of strength he had within him to clamp his hands around Leonardo's shoulders. Michelangelo was crouching down behind Donatello with his arms held around his back, trying with all of his might to pull his brother off of Leonardo. Donatello seemed hell bent on tearing Leonardo's torso out of his own shell.

"Knock it off, damn it!" Raphael growled, frustrated that for all of his strength he could not seem get a good enough grip to pull the two apart.

"Guys! Please stop!" Michelangelo pleaded in a voice gripped with fear and anguish as he tugged fruitlessly on Donatello's belt. He wished that he had spent more time listening to Donatello's excited monologues about the wonders of quantum physics. Then perhaps he could teleport back in time to when the four of them were not at each other's throats. He would even settle for the few short weeks prior that they seemed so happy again. But now, things were falling apart more than ever before. It broke his heart to see his brothers like this, and especially to think it was all because of him.

"That does it," Raphael sneered, drawing back for a moment to crack his knuckles. "Now I'm gonna hafta get serious."

"Yamete!" a raspy but loud and commanding shout echoed over the commotion. If no other force on the Earth could stop what was occurring in that room, Splinter's voice could and did, for a moment. The four turtles, either sprawled across the floor or kneeling beside their brawling brothers all turned to look at the short, furry rat that stood in the doorway, leaning on his walking stick. A stern, angry, yet confused look rested across Splinter's visage, and his old but sharp eyes trailed across each of his sons. During any other scrap, this would have been the end of it. But Donatello's fury would not subside so abruptly. He refused to yield from his position of nearly getting his aching fingers around Leonardo's neck. Michelangelo looked to his father with pleading eyes, and Splinter knew that his intervention was needed more than he realized. He made a quick survey of what was transpiring: Raphael, tense but not hostile. Michelangelo, frightened. Leonardo, in a defensive situation but visibly riled. Donatello, furious and aggressive. In the next moment Splinter swiftly moved over to his sons, brushing by Raphael and tapping at Michelangelo with the bottom half of his walking stick as an indication to move away.

"Stop this," he repeated, in English, as he crouched down and set his staff on the floor. When his two sons refused to acknowledge his instruction, he reached his arms out and placed one hand on Leonardo's wrist, and then the other on Donatello's. With a firm press of his thumb against a pressure point, both Leonardo and Donatello's unforgiving grapple was instantly broken as each of their arms went limp. Leonardo seemed to snap out of his trance when this occurred, but Donatello kept at Leonardo's neck with his good arm. Splinter watched for a moment in awe, then gave quick, commanding nods to Raphael and Michelangelo. The other two brothers heeded the silent order and took a hold of Leonardo and Donatello, pulling them apart with much greater ease. Donatello was growling like a rabid dog, struggling tooth and nail against Michelangelo's strength as he was pulled to his feet. Raphael had an easier time, as Leonardo seemed to be aware of himself again and did not resist. Splinted reached down and picked up his walking stick. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, looking to Leonardo for answers. The son whom he had entrusted to be the leader of his family seemed perplexed and unresponsive. In growing anger, Splinter turned to Donatello for an explanation, but became even more concerned and startled when he saw blood mixing with saliva trail down his smaller son's jawline. "What has happened here?" he yelled louder than any of them could recall in recent history. An awkward silence fell over the room, save for the frenzied, guttural groans from Donatello. Splinter turned to his violet-clad son and Michelangelo who wished he knew what to say, but was having a hard time restraining Donatello. "Donatello! Please, calm your anger, my son," Splinter pleaded in an austere tone as he reached up to place his slender fingers across his son's forehead. Donatello tilted his head down, breathing hard and heavy, and he regarded his father with a type of agony that Splinter could not recall seeing in his usually calm son. Without anymore hesitation, he returned his gaze to Leonardo, who looked upon him with an emotionless, blank expression. Donatello could not stand it any longer. With a new found burst of energy, he let out an anguished vociferation and wrenched away from from Michelangelo's arms. Before Raphael could block his path, Donatello had slipped past and hurdled out into the hallway.

"Donnie, stop!" Raphael shouted, turning to sprint after him, but Splinter moved into his way and obstructed him with his raised staff.

"No, Raphael. Let him go."

"What!?" Raphael blurted with a flourishing hand gesture, as if all the times he had run out similarly without resistance had been an appalling action.

"Michelangelo."

"Sensei...?" Michelangelo whimpered, wondering what his father could possibly have to say to him while Donatello had fled, bleeding and furious, from them.

"Go. See to your brother."

"Yes, sensei."

He bowed quickly and ran past his father and his brothers without giving them a second look as he left the room. Raphael gave Splinter a perplexed look as if to say, "why him?" But Splinter merely shook his head and glared at him and Leonardo expectantly. Leonardo watched despondently, then glanced to Raphael who stared at him with a questioning anger.

"There had better be an explanation for this," Splinter began, jabbing the end of his staff against the floor to garner their attention. "Or I fear much damage has been done today."