*Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles franchise.

*Spoiler Alert: This story takes place several hours after the episode 'Requiem.' If you have not seen the episode yet, I recommend watching it before reading any further.


*'Grief' Summary: As the new head of the household, Leonardo is struggling to find a way to help his little brothers come to terms with the loss of their father. Maybe that's because he himself cannot come to terms with it.

*Author's Notes: After watching the episode 'Requiem,' I'm still having a difficult time putting the pieces of my broken heart back together again. I was already crying before poor Mikey said "Papa," but after that, I was a blubbering mess. Though I am still in mourning, I wrote this 'Shell Shot' because I had several readers request that I write a story that takes place after that episode. So, here it is, written in my own tears . . .

As always, a big thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read, favorite, follow, like, reblog, review and/or comment on this collection of one-shots. Please continue to do so. I would love to know if you are enjoying them. Thanks, again! ;) CJ


Grief

I can still see the long contours of my father's frame despite the fact that there is a thin sheet draped loosely over his body. The smell of incense still lingers in the air hanging thick over the Dojo, but the sweet scent of sandalwood and juniper is slowly being overpowered by a more ominous odor. It's an unpleasant combination of blood, sweat, and tears.

So many tears . . .

I lean forward and place my hand on my father's motionless chest, shuddering over how cold he feels underneath my touch, even through the sheet.

It's been eight hours now, and still, there's this naïve part of me that actually believes his heart will just suddenly start beating again and everything will somehow be okay. After all, my father had always taught me to never give up hope, even against seemingly impossible odds.

And so I keep clinging to this blind, stubborn faith that he'll open his eyes and say my name again. I keeping telling myself that he has defied death so many times now, why should this time be any different?

But the truth is, this time is totally different. This time, there's no Fugitoid to take us back six months in time to undo the damage that was done. This time, my father didn't get sucked down into a powerful vortex or fall into some deep, dark chasm where we couldn't see his fate. No, this time, he was murdered in cold blood right in front of us. Stabbed in the back by the man he once thought of as a brother.

This time, my father's not coming back . . .

I close my eyes and feel the newly familiar sensation of fresh tears falling once more.

They say that there are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Up until now, I've never really put much stock in that theory. Maybe that's because, up until now, I've never truly lost someone. Not like this. I've never had to face the reality of having to bury a member of my own family. I've never felt so much sorrow and emptiness in all my life.

They're right about grief. The stages that is. Well, sort of. The thing is, each one of my brothers and I seem to be stuck in one particular stage.

The fact that I continually keep checking my father for a pulse or any kind of movement is proof that I'm the one in the denial stage.

My immediate younger brother, Raphael, is not surprisingly battling with the anger stage.

My genius brother, Donatello, seems to be all over the depression stage.

And my youngest brother, Michelangelo, is no doubt in the bargaining stage of things.

The only stage we don't have covered is the acceptance one. Maybe that's because none of us are willing to let go.

I stare down at my father's lifeless body and I feel my breath start to catch in my chest, almost like I've got a bad case of the hiccups, but I know it's just my body trying to fight off another round of sobs. I realize that it's not healthy to hold back my emotions, but I'm the head of the household now and my father would tell me that I need to be strong for my brothers.

What I wouldn't give to actually hear him say something along that line again?

Things are so surreal right now.

About nine hours ago, I had been standing in the very spot that I am now kneeling on, only I had been looking my father in the eyes, not looking at a sheet hiding his face from view.

How could everything change in just a matter of hours?

In the back of my mind, I can still hear the conversation that had taken place between my father and I just before we left the safety of the lair last night . . .

"Master Splinter? You've been kind of distant the past few days. You've been meditating nonstop and you're barely sleeping. Are you okay?"

"Leonardo, my son, please, let us not talk about me. Let's talk about you. Do you know why you are leader of this team?"

"Um, yeah. Because I asked to be. You said it wasn't because of my skills."

"I said that only to temper your ego at the time. I knew even when you were a small boy that you would one day grow up to be the leader of this team. And when I pass on, to be like a father, as well."

"Pass on? Wh – what are you talking about, Sensei?"

"Leonardo, if I can only impart one piece of wisdom that will remain with you forever, remember, giving guidance to your brothers and friends does not come from here, it comes from here."

He had held his hand over my heart, just as I'm holding my hand over his heart right now. A heart that is no longer beating.

How can I feel nothing and everything at the same time?

"Oh, father. What have I done?"

I could've stopped this from happening . . .

I knew there had been something troubling him. I could sense it . . .

"I don't get it. Y – You're fine, father. Is there something you're not telling me?"

I had recognized the ominous tone of his message . . .

"And when I pass on . . . "

"If I can only impart one piece of wisdom that will remain with you forever . . . "

But still, I had let him leave the lair, knowing that something bad was going to happen. I should've trusted my gut. Because I made the wrong choice, Sensei is gone.

My father's voice rings out in my head again. Something that he said to me the night that I had nearly killed all three of my brothers because of a poor decision I had made . . .

"It is right that you should feel pain for your mistakes, but it is one thing to regret bad decisions after they are made. A leader must foresee how bad decisions lead to bad results."

This time, my bad decision had led to something far, far worse.

If I would've foreseen this coming, I would've done things so much differently. I would've stopped him from coming with us. I would've let him know how much I loved him and thanked him for all he'd done for us. I would've told him I wasn't ready for this.

But I didn't, and now, he's gone.

It's too late . . .

Tears start to prick my eyes again, so I decide to go check on my brothers before I completely lose it. I pull my hand away from my father's motionless figure to wipe my eyes before rising to my unsteady feet. I don't know exactly how long I've been kneeling here now, but my legs feel like limp noodles underneath me. Although I'm willing to bet the weakness in my limbs isn't just because I've been kneeling for too long. The profound sadness weighing me down probably has something to do with it, too.

Upon exiting the Dojo, I head straight towards Mikey's bedroom, where I had last seen him. I wordlessly bypass both Raph and Donnie, who are in the main living space of the lair. I'm not exactly sure why, but I feel this need to see my youngest brother first. Maybe it's because Mikey is the baby of the family. Maybe it's because Mikey cried the hardest the whole way home. Or maybe it's because I know that Mikey will be the easiest brother to deal with because he doesn't mask his hurt with anger like Raph or bottle his emotions up inside like Donnie.

When I get to Mikey's bedroom, the door is wide open. My baby brother's never been real big on privacy.

Making sure to stay as silent as possible, I poke my head inside of the room. Mikey is kneeling beside his bed, his hands clasped together and tucked snuggly underneath his chin. His eyes are closed, clearly in silent prayer. It was a similar position to the one I'd found him in earlier when I'd checked on him. Only that time, his prayer hadn't been silent. I'd been able to hear the whole thing . . .

"Please! I don't know who's listening up there, but whoever you are, please just bring our father back to us. My brothers and I . . . we still need him. I promise if you grant me this one wish, I'll try to be the best turtle I can be. And I totally promise to be a better son and brother. No more pranks or clownin' around. I'll do anything if you just let him come back to us. Even if it's just for a little while so we can say goodbye . . . Please!"

The whole ride back to the lair, Mikey had begged our father not to go. He had even offered to give up comic books and pizza at one point if Sensei would just open his eyes. It had been heartbreaking to listen to.

Yeah, Mikey was definitely in the bargaining stage of grief . . .

I choose not to enter my baby brother's room, leaving him to continue praying to anyone that might hear him. It just doesn't feel right to interrupt him during this moment. Like me, my youngest brother is desperately grasping at hope and I'm certainly not going to be the one to dash it. Unfortunately, it'll be dashed soon enough. For the time being, I just want Mikey to hold onto his faith for as long as he can.

You know, as distraught as Mikey is right now, I honestly think he's handling it the best out of all of us. That's not to say he isn't a complete wreck. I'd heard the way he cried out 'Papa' after we lost father. It nearly made me lose what little composure I still had left, but at least Mikey was allowing himself to mourn. Unlike Donnie and Raph, Mikey wasn't trying to hide his sorrow behind his pride. He had worn it without reservation or shame. My baby brother's ability to embrace his emotions is something I think will help him through this. Yes, it'll be hard on him, but Mikey's far stronger emotionally than any of us. He's always been my most optimistic brother and I'm confident he'll bounce back the quickest.

I quietly walk away from Mikey's room and head towards the sound of my hotheaded brother's voice – or rather the sound of his grunts and growls. It looks like he's trying to pound the practice dummy into oblivion.

I approach with cautious footsteps. Disrupting Raph during an intense pummeling session is always extremely dangerous. One wrong move and you could wind up with a jitte sticking out of you . . .

When I get within a few feet of my most temperamental brother, it occurs to me that I have absolutely no idea what to even say to him. I mean, we just lost our father. What exactly do you say? Somehow, the usual 'Hey, Raph, how's it going' conversation starter doesn't seem appropriate here. And so I simply stand next to him like an idiot, but he doesn't appear to notice. He just continues his assault on the punching bag.

I can see that his hands are red from slamming them into his target, over and over again. I'm obviously going to have to intervene, because there's no way my stubborn as shell brother is going to stop on his own.

"Um, Raph, can we talk?"

In response to my question, I notice Raph's blows grow increasingly harder and the muscles in his neck cord with even more tension than before.

I know it's a risky move, but I reach out and grab hold of my brother's dominant hand just as he's about to slam it square into the dummy's chest again. Hopefully, he won't decide to hit me instead.

"Please, Raph – " Before I can even try to reason with him, my brother cuts me off.

"I don't wanna talk, Leo!" Though Raph growls out the words, I can hear the despair in his voice. Despair that sounds foreign coming from my normally thick-skinned brother. He then lets out a thunderous roar and smashes the fist that I'm not grasping into the unsuspecting punching bag. His clenched hand stops cold once it makes contact with the dummy, as if his knuckles were suddenly crazy glued to the thing.

I have to admit, I'm grateful for this momentary reprieve, because I'm pretty sure if Raph would've kept going the way he was, he would've busted both of his hands just out of spite.

My immediate younger brother is quick to turn his face away from me, presumably afraid of what I might see if I look him in the eyes. I know he's hurting, but he's too headstrong and embarrassed to show it.

"Raph."

"I . . . I can't talk about it."

The slight crack I hear in Raph's voice is nothing short of gut-wrenching.

"Raph, all I'm trying to – "

"Just leave me alone, Leo! I said I can't, okay?"

As soon as Raph finishes his highly volatile response, he roughly pulls his hand out of my grip so he can draw it back and thrust it into the practice dummy with bone-crushing force. He then turns and looks at me, pressing his lips into a grim line while he does so. For a fleeting moment, I swear I see his features soften and he looks as though he's going to say something more, but he instead sidesteps around me and storms off towards his bedroom. Seconds later, the sound of his door slamming shut echoes throughout the lair.

Apparently, he's still in the anger phase of grief . . .

I'm half-tempted to go after him, but I need to respect his bid for privacy. Besides, pushing Raph when he's like this is about as safe as leaving Mikey alone in a room with a big, shiny, red button marked 'LAUNCH NUCLEAR STRIKE.'

Swallowing thickly, I turn towards my second youngest brother, whose sitting on the couch in the pit of the lair. He's hunched forward with his elbows rested on his knees and his head hung down. The whole time I had been talking to Raph – or rather trying to talk to Raph – Donnie hadn't moved an inch. He had just sat there, staring down at the floor with this lost expression on his face, purposely avoiding eye contact with everyone. Just as he had done the entire trip back to the lair.

Of all my brothers, I'm the most worried about Donnie. My smartest brother has a nasty tendency to repress his feelings when he's hurting. This time is no exception. He hasn't said more than a couple words since it happened. Even when April had tried to talk to him, he had just nodded in response and kept his eyes fixed on the floor. Occasionally, he'd let out a sad little whimper or sigh, but that's about all we'd heard out of him for hours now.

Donnie's definitely not dealing well with the loss and it's kind of starting to freak me out, because my genius brother's had a rough couple of months. Since our return to Earth, he's had multiple brushes with death. He was seriously injured in that chemical plant explosion that Karai, Shini, and I had set off, he was hit by a mutant-hunter rocket, he was captured and nearly dissected by Don Vizioso and his goons, he was molecularly scattered across New York City by April of all people, and now, this. I'm not sure how much more Donnie can take. I'm scared the emotional toll may be more than he's capable of dealing with.

Clearing my throat to announce my presence, I sit down on the couch next to Donnie. Still, my brother doesn't move. He just continues to stare blankly down at the concrete below his feet.

Again, I struggle with finding the right words to say, and so the greater part of a minute passes before I finally speak.

"Talk to me, Donnie. Please."

Silence is all I hear and Donnie ever-so slightly veers his head away from me, which makes my heart ache.

"You've barely said anything since – " I can't bring myself to actually complete that sentence, but I'm sure my brilliant younger brother can figure out what the rest of it was going to be.

"Please don't push me away like this, Donnie. I know you're hurting. Just let me help you."

My brother's breath starts to shudder and I can see he's slightly trembling, but still, he says nothing.

I reach out and place a hand on top of his left shoulder and his head instantly turns further away from me. I realize that he's desperately trying to stop himself from crying. Just like Raph, he doesn't want me to see he's in pain.

"It's okay to cry, Donnie. Y – You don't have to hold it in. I'm here for you."

Donnie shakes his head from side to side and his breath hitches in his throat, making a pitiful squeaky sound.

"Please, just say something, Donnie."

"I – " My genius brother has to pause after only one word, in a vain attempt to compose himself. He twists his head towards me and I see the tears pooling in his reddish-brown eyes. Seeing how shattered he looks makes my own breath hitch in my throat. I instinctively wrap an arm around his back in an attempt to console him, but he tenses up at my touch and pushes himself up off the couch as if it's suddenly burning hot.

"I – I have to get the Party Wagon ready for the trip. April will be here soon and I'm sure everyone isn't gonna fit in the Shellraiser."

My brother can't even look at me as he says this and his voice grows quieter with each passing word. When he's finished, his face turns down into the saddest expression I've ever seen, and believe me, I've seen a lot of sad expressions from my second youngest brother.

To say that Donatello is suffering from the depression stage of grief would be putting it mildly.

"Donnie . . . "

Hanging his head down once again, my genius brother trudges off into his lab, shutting me out, both figuratively and literally.

When I hear the lab doors slide shut, I loll my head back and stare up at the ceiling stupidly.

That went really well . . .

I wasn't able to help any of my brothers. Some leader I am.

Heaving out a sigh, I force myself to get up off the couch and head back towards the Dojo. If Donnie's right – and my genius brother usually is – I don't have much time left to spend with my father before April and Casey get back.

When we had returned to the lair after Master Splinter's death, none of us were exactly sure what to do, so we opted to carry his body from the back of the Shellraiser into the Dojo. While we had all stood around the body, wondering what to do next, April had suggested that we have a small service for him at her family farmhouse outside of the city. No one had objected to the idea, although I don't actually know if that was because everyone had agreed with the plan or if they just didn't want to say anything.

And so, April and Casey had gone about making 'funeral arrangements.' The two of them had left with the Shellraiser to gather all of our closest friends while my brothers and I remained at the lair with our father's body until it was time to make the trip upstate. A trip that I'm not sure I'm up to making.

I'm not ready to bury my father . . .

As soon as I step foot inside of the Dojo, the air seems to grow heavier, but maybe that's just my sorrow weighing me down again. My legs feel as though they're about to give out underneath me.

Kneeling beside Master Splinter's body once more, I gently peel back the sheet covering him up and gaze down at his peaceful-looking form. He looks as if he's sleeping, but my father isn't ever going to wake up. Not this time.

I know that now . . .

"Everything isn't permanent, Leonardo. You cannot expect anything to last forever. Even . . . family."

My father had said those words to me only a few months ago.

Then, I remember something else he had said to my brothers and I that same day . . .

"It goes to show that you can never let anger separate you, for our time in this world is limited, and how terrible it would be to have unresolved anger for one another. Life is short and precious."

Had he known this was going to happen back then?

Even before we had first battled the Super Shredder, he had said that he had had a dream about dying . . .

"My dream last night. It was very powerful. I fell into a vast pit where I fought the Shredder. My memory is hazy, but I . . . did not survive."

"But, it was nothing. Just a dream. Right, Sensei?"

"Do not fret, my family. Dreams are often symbolic, not literal. I am not going anywhere."

He had claimed that he wasn't going anywhere, but yet, for weeks he had acted as though he knew something bad was going to happen to him . . .

Realization hits me like a ton of bricks.

He knew . . .

HE KNEW ALL ALONG!

Suddenly, anger starts to bubble up inside of me.

"How long? Huh? How long had you known you were going to leave us?"

I'm fully aware that my father isn't going to actually answer me, but I ask aloud just the same. I can't help myself. My emotions are now running out of control. I feel like yelling and crying at the same time, but mostly, I feel scared.

So scared . . .

I don't know what to do. I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready to be the father figure my younger brothers need. How can I possibly be expected to live up to my father's legacy?

I can't.

I can't do this.

I close my eyes, letting my tears fall freely.

"How am I supposed to do this without you?" My voice doesn't sound at all like my own as I ask this question. It's broken and devoid of every last ounce of confidence.

In my head, I can still hear my father speaking to me . . .

"I knew even when you were a small boy that you would one day grow up to be the leader of this team. And when I pass on, to be like a father, as well."

Unlike my voice, my father's had been filled with such confidence and conviction as he had implied that I was about to become the head of our clan.

How could he trust me with this kind of responsibility? I'm just a teenager . . .

How could my father have that much certainty in me?

Then, I remember, he had always trusted me, through thick and thin . . .

"Sensei, do you think I'm ready for this?"

"Leonardo, I made you leader for a reason."

"What is that reason?"

"That is for you to discover on your own."

My father's faith in me never once faltered . . .

"I don't know, Sensei. Maybe I'm not cut out for all this. I don't really think the guys respect me. I just – I just want to be a good leader, you know?"

"Leonardo, a true leader doesn't always impose his will, but helps his followers flourish. Grow."

"Maybe I shouldn't be leading the team."

"My son, how can your brothers believe in you as leader if you do not believe in yourself?"

That last line makes me nearly choke on a sob.

My father always believed in me, no matter what.

Now, I owe it to him to believe in myself as much as he did. He entrusted me to take care of my brothers, whether I feel I'm up to the task or not. Either way, I'm responsible for them now and that thought scares the shell out of me.

"What do I do now, father?"

Then, my father answers me, or rather, the memory of what he had said to me gives me the answer I'm looking for . . .

"Leonardo, if I can only impart one piece of wisdom that will remain with you forever, remember, giving guidance to your brothers and friends does not come from here, it comes from here."

I place my hand over my father's heart again, just as he had placed his hand over mine after revealing that one piece of wisdom to me.

Though only moments ago, I was afraid to move on without my father's guidance, I now realize that his guidance will always be with me, because it will always live on inside my heart. He will always live on inside my heart. I think that's what my father had been trying to tell me.

My thoughts drift back to the five stages of grief. While my brothers and I may not have reached the acceptance stage just yet, my father had. He had sensed his death was imminent and he was preparing me for this, although I'm pretty sure I'll never be fully prepared for this.

It's only been a few hours since we lost him, but I already miss him so much. He's the only parent I've even known. Even after that fateful day we were all mutated, he still took me and my brothers in and raised us all on his own. He cared for us and taught us everything he could. All that I am is because of him.

As another round of tears threatens to fall, I hear the sound of the Shellraiser approaching.

It's time. Time to haul my father to his final resting place.

A feeling of dread clenches my chest.

I slowly pull the sheet back up so that I can no longer see my father's face. I know that covering Sensei's body up one last time should be upsetting me more than it is, but maybe the fact that it isn't, means I'm moving closer towards some kind of acceptance or closure.

I stare down at my father's stock-still body yet again, and for the first time since his death, I don't feel quite so lost.

He had told me to let my heart guide me.

Well, my heart tells me that I'll see him again. Maybe not in the physical sense, but in the spiritual sense . . .

Someday . . .

Just as my tears are about to rain down for the umpteenth time in the past eight hours, I look up towards the ceiling, wondering if he's looking down upon me. If he is, I hope that I've made him proud and that's the reason why he's put his trust in me to protect my brothers.

"I promise I will do my best to take care of them, father, just like you always did your best to take care of us."

Always . . .

"I love you, otōsan."

The words come out no louder than a whisper. It's all the volume I can muster.

I lower my head back down and close my eyes for a moment, letting a few more tears fall before getting back up to go check on my brothers again.

I just made my father a promise to take care of them.

It's a promise I fully intend to keep.

The End


*Author's Notes: *sniffle, sniffle* Ugh, I seriously need a hug right now. This was a heartbreaking one to write and edit. As I already said, I'm still mourning after watching 'Requiem.' It pretty much crushed me. *more sniffles*

Thanks to those who contacted me and asked me if I was going to write a 'Shell Shot' based off 'Requiem.' It means a lot to me that you thought of me after watching such an emotional episode. Hopefully I did okay.

Just so everyone knows, I have so many requests for stories at this point, I'm afraid I cannot possibly write them all. I'm sorry. I really appreciate the requests, but there's no way for me to keep up with all of them at this time. I will do my best.

For the 'Lost in the Fight' readers out there, I hope to be back next week with a new chapter.

Once again, please take a moment to favorite/follow/like/reblog/review/comment on 'TMNT Shell Shots' if you are enjoying these one-shots. I would love to know. Your responses make me all kinds of happy. C=

Thanks so much for reading! ;) CJ