The Cautious Seldom Err

Part 7

Timshel – part 1

My old gentlemen felt that these words were very important too—'Thou shalt' and 'Do thou.' And this was the gold from our mining: 'Thou mayest.' 'Thou mayest rule over sin'…Don't you see? The American Standard translation orders men to triumph over sin, and you can call sin ignorance. The King James translation makes a promise in 'Thou shalt,' meaning that men will surely triumph over sin. But the Hebrew word, the word timshel—'Thou mayest'— that gives a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. That says the way is open… For if 'Thou mayest'—it is also true that 'Thou mayest not'…Now, there are many millions in their sects and churches who feel the order, 'Do thou,' and throw their weight into obedience. And there are millions more who feel predestination in 'Thou shalt.' Nothing they may do can interfere with what will be. But 'Thou mayest'! Why, that makes a man great, that gives him stature with the gods, for in his weakness and his filth and his murder of his brother he has still the great choice. He can choose his course and fight it through and win."- John Steinbeck, East of Eden

Leonardo

The Temple was supremely well hidden in many ways, but in one it was painfully obvious; it sat on the highest point in the Jungle, and was thus visible to anything able to surmount the canopy, but the actual entrance to the stairs took me a long time to find. I'd basically just headed in the general direction I knew the temple to be, and had set about scouting the area looking for any kind of carving or switch. Frustrated after nearly an hour of this, I reached up to yank a vine down, thinking that I might be able to get there by jumping from and climbing the trees. The vine I grasped was thick and resistant. With growing irritation I gave it a hard tug, and was extremely startled when a huge stone door, thickly encrusted with lichens and thus indistinguishable from the rest of the jungle, groaned open. I shook my head at nothing; this was all just too much.

The corridor I stepped into was dark – impenetrably dark, the kind that suffocates. The air felt clammy and old, as if this door had sealed in a part of history that had been released as a gust as soon as I had disturbed it. It wasn't like I hadn't come prepared, though. I had a torch tucked into the side of my belt, and I used the flint I carried to spark it into life. The burst of warmth illuminated the walls and a few pathetic feet in front of me but little else. I felt like I was in a vacuum, devoid of any kind of life except for the scattered clicking of insect exoskeletons. I moved on.

I feel I must have walked that hallway for the better part of a year, but who can judge time in a place like that? I knew that my feet were aching and my arm was sore from holding the torch aloft as the light it cast slowly began to dip down, dwindling its fuel. To my left, I heard a sound that immediately shot my adrenaline into the roof: the hiss of a snake. Not just one, but several. My heart began to thud painfully against my ribcage and I swallowed, taking a few deep breaths. That didn't help, so I quickened my pace.

You'd think that, after living in close quarters below ground all my life, I'd be used to airless spaces and the noises of the unseen. But in New York I had a pretty good idea of what was crawling the walls beside me. This was new territory, and I was jarred. I sped up, jogging until the torch flickered from the wind. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying, hoping that it would at least stay lit till I found a cavern, or the stairs or…or something, anything!

You're a ninja, my mind screamed at me. What is wrong with you? Put it out, Leonardo. Stop doing this the human way.

I slowed, panting. The torch danced a few more times, dipped into a low blue, then went out.

I could hear my own breath, but little else – all noises had stilled. Blood pounded in my veins, and I shook.

One breath. Two. My heart beat, slowed.

Three breaths. Four. My pupils, dilated. Shadows taking form.

Five breaths. My breathing, regulated.

Seven.

I was calm.

I opened my eyes, took a deep breath through my nose, and let it out. I could smell water. I was close.

"You're finally here, Leonardo," a voice said to my left.

I whirled, but could see nothing. My foot slipped and I lost my balance, tumbling backwards and expecting to hit the wall. Instead, I felt my stomach drop as I began to free fall…

"Uff." My breath escaped me in an audible huff as I landed on my plastron, grunting as all of my organs seemed to slam into the front of me and then resettle. I took a few moments to be stunned, gathering my breath before I pushed up on the ground with shaky arms. I blinked and lifted my gaze, then felt my throat go dry.

I was on a white marble dais, surrounded everywhere by similar ones on which perfectly circular pools of blue water were gathered and spilling over the sides in faultless arcs. Bright white light filtered down from something above me that I could only peer at, for risk of being blinded.

I was dumbfounded. Wasn't this…an old temple? Wasn't I just in a long, dark corridor?

Hadn't someone just said my name?

"That would be correct."

I whirled as best I could on my shell, bracing myself on my elbows and looking down my plastron to see Botticelli looking at me plaintively. I frowned at him.

"How'd you get here, boy?" I asked, furrowing my brow and looking around. "And who said that?"

"I did." Disbelievingly, I watched Botticelli's mouth work and it took me another half-second to realize that he was speaking.

"Whoa!" I cried, scrambling and crab walking backwards until my right hand hit the bottom of a pool. I heard him chuckle and jerked my gaze back up from the water to him, opening my mouth and closing it when nothing came out.

"I've been watching you for some time, obviously. Is it really so hard for you of all people to come to terms with a talking animal, Leonardo?"

There were still no words. I cleared my throat. "I…uh…"

Again that rich chuckle, making Botticelli's nose crinkle and sway. "Perhaps you'd be more comfortable with a form you are more familiar with." As soon as the sentence died, a blue light burnt my eyes and made them tear. When I opened them again, I met with another shock.

"You…Taanil!"

The ancient prince smiled kindly at me, his black hair rippling around clear blue eyes - eyes that I realized belatedly that I could see through.

I swallowed. "Are you…?"

"Dead? Yes. Well, insofar as you think of it. My body ceased to be a long time ago." He waved a hand dismissively. "My soul, however, remains…trapped. But you knew that." He took a few steps towards me and I looked up at him, more than a little bit awed. He…he was shimmering. It was all just...

"Overwhelming?" He supplied helpfully, then laughed when my eyes flew open.

"You can read my mind, too?" I spluttered, indignant.

"More or less. I can read your feelings and impulses, not your thoughts verbatim. I made a logical guess. I have had many years of practice." Taanil knelt next to me, placing a hand on my kneepad. No warmth radiated from him, and I don't know why that surprised me. My eyes met his, and our gazes held. I relaxed.

He nodded and smiled. "Much better. I took the form of the creature you called 'Botticelli' so that I could bide my time before bringing you here. You weren't ready…but I can see now that you are."

"I…" something in his sentence snagged. "Ready for what?"

"Your trials." His voice, at once, sounded grimmer. "You've come for the medallion, have you not?"

"…Yes."

"Have you it's twin?"

I fished in the pocket of my belt and drew out the heavy thing on its chain. I held it up for him to see. His expression changed, slid into fear, anger, and then a deep and solemn remorse. I'd never seen a sadness so penetrating before, and my heart ached for him.

"You are holding my little brother in your hands, you know."

I looked down and touched the red gem softly.

"I…am familiar with that feeling, Prince Taanil," I said on a weary sigh. "Believe me."

The smile was back in his eyes. "I do."

We shared a brief moment of now-companionable silence, before I heard him draw in a deep breath. "Leonardo, I'm afraid I must ask you to stand."

I did so. "Why do you sound so resigned?" I asked, confused.

The look in his transparent eyes was unreadable. "I have been waiting here for three-thousand years, hoping – waiting – for someone to come and claim the medallion and set my brother and I free. I am ready to end this torment…" His gaze flicked up to me and held. "I believe you are the one I have waited for, but you, like those few who have tried before you, must pass the tests."

I rubbed my temples. "Of course I do."

"Beg pardon?"

"Nothing, Prince Taanil, my apologies. Did you set these tests up when you became…what you are?"

He shook his head, and his glittering hair swung in a slow-motion arc around his jaw. "No. They are set up by forces beyond me, those who allowed me the power to keep my brother's soul in the first place. It was a mechanism for safekeeping…but also a punishment." He looked down.

My brow wrinkled. "For what? Why, after all of your suffering, would you be punished further?"

Something about the lost look in his eyes struck a chord deep within me, and I immediately felt a pulse of energy surge through us both. It was emptiness without others, but the pain of being forever divided from the ones you loved best. It was the shared remorse of an older brother: of Frére Aineé, Onii-san, of Hermano Mayor, and it made my eyes fill.

His voice, echoing, was hollow. "I suffer for my selfishness. When my brother was alive I took him for granted, always thinking that I could spend time with him the next day or the next…but when the next day came and he was slaughtered…well," He looked up at me, his eyes beseeching. "I made the selfish choice to spend time with him forever. I kept his soul from being freed because I could not bear to go on existing without him. It is a fault for which I have dearly paid. Can you understand that Leonardo?"

I stared back at him, unflinching. "Unquestionably."

He stood there a moment longer, his non-existent fingertips hovering over the medallion's surface, before he drew his hand back and sighed.

"It is time."

The ground began to rumble and shake, pebbles skittering into the pools of water or over the edge into nothingness. I reached back for the hilt of my sword as Taanil's voice grew louder.

"You will face seven trials. If you survive, you will claim the medallion. If you fail, your cycle of rebirth will end and your soul will cease to be. It is time to claim your destiny and purge your soul, Leonardo."

I swung around, looking for him wildly, but he was gone. I backed up to the edge of a pool, prepared to fight whatever was coming. My foot slid back into the water and I looked down at it instinctively. The reflection shocked me.

"What? Raph, how-"

A hand grabbed my foot, and water filled my lungs.

First Terrace – The Proud

I slowly blinked my way back into consciousness, but as soon as I had I found this to have been unwise. Immediately, all air escaped me as I was forced into the dirt by some enormous weight on my back. I tried to reach around and push it off, but my arms swung at empty air. I gasped for breath, bits of dirt sticking to my dry lips.

With great effort I managed to crawl forward a few feet. With another I stood, but no amount of straining would let me straighten up. Sweat rolled down my forehead and I grit my teeth.

"What is this?" I gasped out to no one.

"It is an awful chore, carrying around dead weight all of one's life…is it not?"

I struggled to turn my head to the side. "Prince Taanil…glad you could join me."

He clucked his tongue in what appeared to be disapproval. "Sarcasm will get you nowhere in these tests, Leonardo. You must open your heart and mind to betterment."

I was feeling lightheaded and my back was screaming at me from being unable to straighten up. "Forgive me if I'm less than," The weight shifted and I gasped, "enthusiastic. What is this place?"

He looked up, and it was then that I noticed hundreds of others like me, bent at the middle and moaning.

"This is where you will realize your mistakes."

I closed my eyes in pain. "I do that every single day."

"This will be one of the last."

My inner breathing quieted. "I am ready."

"Good. Leonardo, look down."

I did. Below me, where there had been dirt, there now lay a floor of glass. I peered into it, watching my reflection but moving past it to see further below. There was a mass of glowing turquoise, shapes forming and then disbanding, swirling below the surface.

My back throbbed. "What am I looking for?"

"You will know."

I looked harder. A bead of sweat trickled down from the top of my head to my neck. As soon as it met my plastron, I saw it. The mists took form and I stood, incredulous, as I watched a scene I remembered all too well…

The kata Leonardo had been perfecting was just that – nearly perfect. Nearly had never been enough, however, and as he slid into the final form his ankle turned just enough to set him off balance. He wobbled and fell, catching himself on his elbow as his brothers all laughed.

"Whoa, Leo! You really want us to follow –that- fancy footwork?"

"Yeah, I bet Master Splinter would love to see that you've combined ninjitsu with dancing. Maybe it could be a new form of kabuki."

Leonardo, ten years old, on the ground – hurt, glaring. "Stop that. It was a mistake."

Michelangelo's eyes glittering, his smile wide. "I know! That's what makes it so great, bro!"

Donatello giggled. "It's nice to know now and then that our Big, Brave Brother is mortal like the rest of us, too." He extended an arm down to help Leonardo up, but Leo smacked it away.

"Keep practicing," he snapped. "I'll be back in a minute, and there will be no room for mistakes."

His brothers laughed behind him as he left – all except for Raphael, who was not smiling at all. His sober, serious eyes followed Leo as he left the dojo and stormed up to his room.

That was where Raphael found him as Leo rubbed his throbbing ankle. His movements were precise, the bandage he was wrapping perfectly snug. Raphael cleared his throat.

Leo glared up at him. "You're supposed to be downstairs practicing."

"I know. But…hey, Leo, listen…they didn't mean anything by it. They're just jealous cuz you never screw up an' we all do, you know?"

"Shut up, Raphie."

"So don't sweat it. I mean, everyone makes mista-"

Raphael was pinned to the wall before he knew what hit him. Leo stared hard into his eyes, the hand at his brother's throat keeping him still.

"Go practice, Raphael. I said I'd been down in a minute."

His brother's burnt caramel eyes were wounded, betrayed. "I was just trying ta-"

"I SAID go PRACTICE!" Leonardo barked, then released him. His ten year old's voice has cracked as it grew louder. He breathed swiftly in frustration.

The two brothers stared at each other, panting, before Raphael snorted.

"Fine then. Screw you, Leo." His footsteps pounded back downstairs to the dojo. Leonardo was left in his room, words he'd never voice echoing in his head:

I will not make mistakes. I am the Leader. I am Big Brother.

And most importantly…

I'm better than you.

I came back to the here and now with a swift gasp. The pain on my back intensified and I fell to my knees.

"I didn't mean it."

Prince Taanil bent closer to me, fingers that I couldn't feel smoothing over my forehead. "Yes, Leonardo. You did. You still do."

I looked inside myself and cringed. While I did feel guilt and remorse at the way I'd treated Raph…the Prince was right. My pride wouldn't let me admit that I could make mistakes, not in front of them! I was…above that. I was…

"Better?" Taanil supplied gently.

I bowed my head.

"Yes."

Immediately, the weight from my back lifted. I looked up, confused. The Prince was smiling at me. He reached forward and touched my forehead. I felt a brief burning and looked down at myself in the glass.

The letter P lit up my forehead, then dimmed and died.

"Congratulations, Leonardo. You've swallowed your pride."

I felt a peculiar rush of sensations – relief, confusion, accomplishment, guilt – before the scenery changed and my vision went black.

Second Terrace – The Envious

I could see nothing. I tried to blink but found that my eyelids wouldn't even move. Immediately, I started to panic.

"Calm down, Leonardo. You will not be harmed."

I grunted and rubbed at my face, finding my eyelids to be sewn shut.

"Prince Taanil!" I cried out helplessly.

"I am right here. Be still. Use your other senses instead."

I did. I could smell hay, hear the fluttering of wings, the guttural noises of very large birds. I shook my head.

"Where am I?"

"It doesn't matter. Why are you here?"

"I don't know!" I felt trapped, helpless. This was nothing like the blind exercises I'd been doing in the forest –at least then I'd had the option of opening my eyes if I needed to- and I bitterly envied Prince Taanil his omniscience, his ability to see.

I heard the smile in his voice when he said "Good."

"Now relax," he said gently, "and try to focus."

I did, and felt myself growing dizzy. "What-?"

"Relax."

After a few moments of listening to my own breathing, I began to see. Not in the traditional sense, but in my mind. And somehow, that was clearer.

Leonardo, five years old, watching his three brothers on the rug playing with cars while he knelt at the table with his Master, learning to read and write.

Leonardo, 12, watching Donatello gently take the spoon from Mikey's mouth, and feeling a pang in his gut when Mikey smiled.

Leonardo, 2, watching Raphael cry and being gently shushed by their Sensei.

Leonardo, 15, leading their first charge against the Shredder, not a part of the whispering going on behind him as they crept through the sewers.

Leonardo, at all ages, watching his three brothers riding their skateboards and bikes through the sewers while he collected supplies.

Always the Leader. Always alone.

"They always had it so good. They never woke up and realized what it took to be Leader for them, the kind of perfection it takes to be Big Brother…"

Prince Taanil's voice sounded far away. "Keep watching."

"They tease me about it, but I do it for them. I'm a leader for them, and because of it, I was always the farthest apart…"

Raphael, 3, watching Leonardo paint calligraphy on rice paper; trying to duplicate it with his messy hands in his finger paint. Crying when it came out a blob.

Donatello, 9, wanting to show Leonardo the plans for a heating system he'd drawn up; wanting to say 'Look, Big Brother…I can help take care of us, too,' but shying away at the last minute.

Michelangelo, 12, keeping his eyes trained on Leonardo as he practiced his flips on the half-pipe; screaming, pleading with his eyes for Big Brother to turn this way, to watch him and applaud. Stopping his skateboard, and leaving the room so Leonardo would have some peace.

Raphael, 15, watching Leonardo's katas with hooded eyes – the perfect form, the grace; gritting his teeth and walking away.

"They were jealous?" I said quietly. "…Of me?"

All three of his brothers, giggling quietly at the table then shushing each other; Leonardo was trying to study. Their eyes as they all watched him appreciatively, then turned back to their game.

"I was alone. I was always the outcast! I was always so jealous of their carefree lives. God, I wanted to play, but I couldn't! I had to train…for them. It was for them, when all I wanted was to be with them!"

My eyelids flew open. I blinked in the bright light filtering in through cracks in the barn walls, looked up to see a circle of birds of prey watching me from the rafters. Prince Taanil was smiling at me.

That strange burning sensation on my forehead was back, then I slumped back and exhaustedly closed my eyes on my own.

Michelangelo

Raph's been sleeping a lot lately; It's no secret. Donnie's been not-sleeping about as much as Raph has.

Me? I'm caught somewhere in the middle. I'm the cream filling between two very opposite cookies. It's kind of like being a buffer…you know, like Don'll say something that pisses Raph off, and Raph'll come after him and there I am in the middle, like the flapper sending the pinball off somewhere else to avoid a collision. That's what I do these days. I prevent stuff.

For example. I was at a party today doing my thing for a little girl who's daddy worked at the stock exchange. Her name was Missy, and she was turning six. We went through the whole thing, cake, candles, presents, etc. There were about twelve kids there, all running and laughing and having a good time. Or, I mean, so it appeared to StockDaddy on his Blackberry, debating the DOW while keeping one obligatory eye on his daughter. Really what was happening was this: The kids were having a blast. All of them but Missy. She kept sending these big, sad eyes to her Dad that he never caught. I don't even think she knew the kids there very well. They were probably the spawn of Daddy's clients that he invited as a two-birds-with-one-stone deal: It was great PR, and it filled up the kid quota for little Missy's party.

When the kids had gone, earlier than expected, I still had one hour left that had been paid for. I sat down next to Missy and got out my rubber nunchaku.

"Wanna see a trick, Missy?"

She looked up at me and gave me the saddest smile I've ever seen on a kid.

"S'okay, Carl. No one else is here to see it. Just me."

I shrugged. "I know! It's a special birthday trick just for you. That's why I saved it till now."

Now she looked intrigued. "What kind of trick?"

I kicked my legs out and cracked my knuckles. "An awesome one. Do I know any other kind?"

"I guess not. Is it another ninja trick?"

"Nope."

"Another balloon animal?"

"Guess again."

Now she looked suspicious. "What?"

I made a big show of loosening my shoulders, stretching my legs out. "Ready?" I asked in between stretches. "Yeah?" She'd reply, then I'd stretch more before asking "Really really ready?"

"Yes!"

"Good!" Then I launched at her, tickling her all over. She shrieked, then collapsed helplessly into giggles, rolling around on the floor.

"Beg for mercy, or there shall be none!"

She laughed harder. "Beg! Mercy!"

I stopped and sat back on my heels, grinning. "I made'ja laugh. S'a pretty neat trick, huh?"

She paused to stand up and right her dress (expensive; probably from Macy's) and rearrange her bouncy blonde curls. Then she smiled at me. "Yeah. Pretty neat."

The rest of the hour I spent telling her jokes and putting little pieces of frosting on her nose for her to try and lick off. When the time came for me to leave she was red-faced and happy.

"Do you have to go, Carl?"

I ruffled her curls again, just to hear her laugh one more time. "Sure do. Remember, when I'm not making kids happy, I'm fighting for ninjustice!"

She looked down, then back up at me. When she did, it was with a real, warm smile. "Thanks for being here. Come back next year, okay?"

I didn't know what else to say, so I bowed. "No hordes of ninjas could keep me away from thee, Fair Lady!"

And that was that. I had a wad of cash in my hand, a piece of cake wrapped in tinfoil in my bag, and a kind of empty feeling in my gut. I knew that, no matter how hard I'd tried to prevent Missy's birthday party from sucking, she'd walk back into that lonely apartment and have an awkward dinner with her distant Daddy. That was my problem, you see. I could always prevent things. But that never really made them better.

It persisted when I went home, looking pensive and thoughtful. Donnie was in the kitchen, clattering pots and pans. I found him muttering into a cookbook, a stern frown on his face as he tapped a soup spoon against the counter. I peered over his shoulder.

"Stir fry, huh?"

He jumped a mile, I swear. "Mikey! Jeez, warn a turtle, will ya?"

I grinned a little. "Heh, sorry. You're so jumpy, it's too easy. By the way, you need a wok, not a crock-pot."

He looked dazed "What? Oh…"

I shook my head. "Stop. Let me help."

"Mikey, that really isn't necessary."

"Unless you want to order pizza again, which I have no problem with by the way, you'd better let me try."

His smile was kind as he leaned back against the counter, watching me pull out ingredients. "I'm so proud of you."

I looked up, munching on a carrot. "Why?" I asked, with my mouth still mostly full.

"You're growing up. Becoming responsibility-minded, taking part in supporting the family…" his gaze darkened. "Unlike some people."

I sighed and plugged the wok in. "Donnie, I don't want to hear it tonight."

He looked surprised. "What happened?"

As I washed the veggies in the sink I shook my head. "Nothin'. I just don't want to talk about Raph."

"It's not like he's ever here to hear us-"

"Donnie! Seriously dude, stop! I get enough of dysfunctional families day in and day out. I don't want to fill up my free time with another one!" The glare I shot him shut him up. "I'm sure Raph has his reasons. We're all dealing with this bullshit our own ways. His is just doing…whatever it is he's doing. Leave him alone."

The sizzle of oil filled the air. We were silent. Donnie drew in a breath.

"Mikey, I…"

"If anyone's to blame, it's Leo," I murmured, and stirred the food around.

Don looked pained. "You were so excited for him when he left."

"Yeah," I said. "That nearly two years ago." What I didn't say was Back when he still loved us.

I felt Donnie's hands run up my arms and I leaned into the touch, too tired to make jokes, too tired to insinuate, too tired to do anything but feed him and Master Splinter and maybe Raph when he found the leftovers.

Like I said, I'm the Baby, the Joker, the Clown. I make things better…but no matter how hard I try, it can only ever be half-assed.

Third Terrace – The Wrathful

The first thing I registered was that my eyes were burning. The second was that I couldn't breathe.

I doubled over, choking on each acrid intake of air. Tears ran freely down my cheeks and I peered through them blearily, trying to make out where I was.

"Prince Taanil?" I tried, weakly. There was no response. I walked, attempting to move aside the horrible, thick smoke all around me with my arms. It swirled for a moment and then quickly condensed around me again. No matter where I turned, it was everywhere.

Anger bubbled up inside me. "So you'll just leave me here now? On my own? What, is this another lesson to be learned? Who gave you the right?" I demanded of the smoke. It did not acknowledge me and instead only snaked its thin tendrils down my quickly seizing throat.

Words weren't forthcoming anymore. I couldn't have yelled anything else if I tried, so I settled for coughing and stumbling about blindly as the smoke stung my eyes to blackness.

"Leo…"

I whirled. A quiet, high-pitched voice – hardly more than a whisper and off to my right. "…Hello?" I called.

There was echoing laughter of children to my left. I turned again, trying to open my eyes against the smoke. By the time I'd focused, the voice was at my back.

"Leo!"

It sounded happy and familiar if displaced, like a voice heard in dreams but impossible to name. I tried to lick my cracking lips and only swallowed another mouthful of smoke.

"Who's there?" My voice was little more than a croak and that frustrated me more than my inability to see. I did not like being robbed of my senses one by one.

"Leo…!"

"Show yourself!"

"LEO!!"

This time it was painful, and I knew it at once.

"…Raph?" I asked, weakly.

Leonardo, at eight years old, finally figured out that his brother was completely impossible and by the time he was nine, he'd taken up remedying that in the only way he knew how.

"Give my truck back!"

"No."

"You're so MEAN, Leo!"

"Don't yell at me!"

"Hate you!"

"Hate you more. You want your stupid truck? Come get it like a real ninja."

Tough love, anger, threats...led to dissent led to fury, led to the dissolution of trust. To repercussions.

Raphael came home with a gash on his leg, gritting his teeth against the pain. Leo looked down at him while Donnie bandaged him up.

"You should have been more careful."

Raph glared up at him with fire in his eyes. "I got nothing to say to you."

Nevermind that the blow had been meant for him. Leo couldn't fathom gently thanking Raph and fussing the way that Donnie did, or the broad, boyish hug Mikey would have offered. He buried his feelings under the shock of the moment, when the truth of it all was…he was scared. Raph might have died. How to prevent it from happening again?

Train Raph till he was sore; train him till he bled. Just train him, so that he'd never have to save Leo again. They'd all train tomorrow…Leo most of all.

Failure to see the man coming with the knife glinting in the moonlight. Why hadn't it caught his eye? Less than desirable, no room for mistakes.

So Leo would train until his fists were raw, his calves were screaming, the tip of his blades dull. He'd train until every last iota of anger at himself was wrenched out of his panting, trembling body by force until he was nothing but a blue and silver blur of elegant perfection and personal wrath.

Because he couldn't let it slide. He couldn't say "We'll do better next time."

There were always repercussions, because Leo couldn't handle that 'next time' might never come.

"Stop yelling at me! I'm trying!"

"Try harder!"

Till the difficult little brother stopped giving him those openly adoring looks, and started to resent him instead.

"Leo!"

"LEO!"

"Raph!"

The smoke thinned and I could breathe, long enough to say:

"I'm sorry…"

I slowly sat down and stared at my hands, all irritation at my surroundings gone. I spoke openly to the brother that couldn't hear me.

"It was my inability to cope with my own fears that made me so angry at you. I didn't want to hurt you…I just didn't want to see you hurt."

It sounded so stupid to me now, laid out like that.

"They say that when you're using hindsight, your vision is nearly perfect."

I lifted my head. "Prince Taanil."

His smile was gentle as he touched my forehead. As it started to burn, he knelt and whispered in my ear "You're doing wonderfully, Leonardo…go on…"

The smoke suddenly vanished, as if it had been sucked out on all sides. I was in an empty room made of coal, and I very suddenly wanted to leave.

"Very well. On we go."

Fourth Terrace – The Slothful

As soon as the words left his mouth, the room dissolved. I watched it with a remote kind of fascination, as if I did not really believe what I was seeing. The world rippled and reformed, creating itself from Chaos into a vast row of blackness. Still dark, still dangerous.

"What's going on, Prince Taa-" My words were cut off as a dark shadow fell over me and I rolled on instinct. A giant boulder landed where I had been not a half second before and showered little rocks and debris on me. I jerked my head up and rolled again in time to narrowly miss being crushed by another boulder. Soon I noticed that this was not a rogue occurrence and the longer I stood still the more likely I was to die. I jolted to my feet and began to run.

"This," Taanil said from somewhere above me, "Is a test. Have you not figured that out yet, Leonardo?"

I said nothing, only focusing on the shadows of the rocks as they fell, trying desperately not to be flattened. My footsteps and the crashes echoed in the otherwise empty space.

"Everyone has Sin within them. No matter what religion one practices, what language they speak, it is a universal theme. But, Leonardo, sin may be overcome."

I ran harder, grunting when a large piece of debris smacked me in the shoulder. He followed me as I ran, speaking as if completely unperturbed.

"Something inside you brought you here, that much is obvious. But there is something holding you back."

My breath was starting to hitch as I drew it in with as much control as I could manage, forcing the oxygen to pump to my tiring legs.

"Don't you wish to know?" He asked gently. I jerked to my right, narrowly missing a jagged piece of rock from slicing my throat. "All you have to do is exhale, and realize."

"I want," I gasped, "Your medallion, you sadistic son of a-"

"Ahh, is that really it?"

A giant boom resonated and shook the floor as the biggest boulder yet crashed down a few scant feet behind me. I felt the vibrations of its impact slither up my legs.

"I want the power to heal Sancho!"

He clucked his tongue somewhere near my ear as I crouched in time to let a baseball-sized rock fly over my head, but it boomeranged back somehow and caught me in the side. I let my air out in a surprised huff of pain.

"Try again, Leonardo."

"I want," I croaked, drew in a breath, started running again. "I want you to stop raping my mind!"

Five rocks came plummeting down from nowhere and surrounded me, trapping me and knocking me to my shell. I dizzily tried to stand, but my legs were like gelatin and I was nauseous.

"You can't escape from pain until you know what is causing it."

"I…want…" it was a torment to breathe, the air searing through my exhausted lungs. "I want my brother back!"

Taanil materialized in front of me, and in his blue eyes I saw the sad, steady gaze of understanding and knew in that instant that he knew exactly what I was feeling.

"I know you do, Leonardo," he said, laying a hand on my forehead that felt more like a gust of cool air than anything else. "But now you do, as well."

The world swirled around me, and I relaxed into the vision with submission this time instead of obstinacy.

Donatello

Say you were given a choice.

You have the opportunity between choosing an eternity of comfort with the stain of mediocrity, or a brief, vivid flash of perfection. Which do you choose?

I sometimes wonder about things like that when I'm lying in bed, staring at the crumbled old ceiling of my room. I watch moss grow through the cracks in the dripping bricks and I think about existence, and how ephemeral it can really be.

Moreover, I'm generalizing my thought process to make it broad and pretty. What I'm really turning over in my brain is the possibility of…well…sunshine.

Mikey's been restless lately. My suspicions run the general course of it having something, if not everything, to do with the fact that the two-year mark of Leo's departure is rolling around. It's interesting to me, in a removed, cynical kind of way, that instead of us worrying over him and fearing him dead, the only thing we're feeling now is…abandonment. Neglect. A year without word, and we can't spare the time to wonder if his body is lying in a jungle or some wasteland, prone and split and a treat for any wandering scientist in the wilds of Central America. Instead, we mark the days off on the calendar like they're a silent accusation…one day more, one more worry, one drop less of sympathy we might have for his cause.

Don't misunderstand me. If he walked through that door right now, I'd grin like a fool and shake his hand. But the probability of that is less than the thing I think about every night as I'm trying to go to sleep.

And we come full circle. What is that thing, you ask? Well…I wonder. Master Splinter has always, always warned us that we are not allowed to go topside in the daylight. The consequences, he says, would be dire and now that I'm old enough to go through the scenarios myself I realize that he was absolutely correct. If something possessed us to go above ground in broad daylight without the slightest precaution, it would be ninety-eight percent accurate to assume that something unfavorable would occur. Fifty-three percent of these scenarios end in our eventual deaths.

Mikey's been restless, and more and more often I'm debating risking that slim margin of error and taking him above ground while the sun is shining out. He gets some exposure with this new job of his, able to feel the warmth of it on his arms and legs and shell…but to see it shine full on his face and the smile that it brings…

They say that a life lived in light is often extinguished in the dark, but wouldn't it be ironic for our sarcastic, playful little brother to die smiling in the sun.

So that's what I think about. If Leo can go out and tempt fate and lose, why can't we make a try for that few moments of peace, paradise, and perfection even if it ultimately leads to our demise? Even if we got carted away right afterwards, wouldn't it be worth it to have seen it just the once?

Then my eyelids grow heavy, and as I shut them there is no change between the dark of my room and the blackness behind my eyes…and I wonder: This isn't like me at all. I'm content in the dark. I have artificial lights and machines and that's all well and good. But that temptation, the forbidden taboo…to see him smile, would it be worth it?

More than Leo's quest, I think. He went out there to further himself, and we lost him. 'Better to die trying', they say. Well.

'They' say a lot of things that sound better in the dark.

Fifth Terrace – the Avaricious

"I can't…" I sobbed. "I can't do this anymore."

"To forfeit means your life, forever."

"I don't care." My fingers ground into the volcanic ash I was sprawled on. Fistfulls, then relaxed. "I can't shoulder more of this guilt."

Slipping, falling…the freewheeling feeling of the beautiful downward spiral. How low would I be able to fall?

When you were ten, your Master gave you all a weapon. They were meant to personify your best traits, to serve you as well as they might in battle.

"Stop…I don't want to hear it." I begged. My voice cracked. He was talking, still.

You saw those swords gleaming in the dojo's firelight…and you wanted them. You wanted all that they symbolized, and the power that came with holding them. Two big, strong swords of beauty and precision to make you feel deadly, benevolent, perfect like a god. They were you, paired.

I've always been a pair.

But someone else wanted them, too…

"You can't use the swords, Raphael. You'll cut yourself."

"Will not! Who says you won't?"

"I'm better trained."

"Sais're sharp, too. Take them. If you're better trained, you'd use 'em better than I could."

"You just want the swords because they're big and shiny."

A frustrated glare. "Do not! They…they're…"

What you both knew, and lusted after. Power. They were Leadership forged in steel and leather. And you could never give that up…especially not to him. Not now. Not ever.

It's your darkest part.

"Stop this!"

Floating…falling…I thought I might be sick. Lurching acid and the impossibility of the eternal trajectory path.

So you talked to your Master. Wooed him with your humble honor-play. Told him you didn't deserve such perfect tools, but should be bestow them on you, you would do your best to be worthy.

They glint so beautifully in the candlelight. They ought to. You polish them every day – respectfully, reverently, because they represent everything to you. Duty, Honor, the Power to protect your family.

Power.

So he gave them to you…and not to him.

"Don't touch those!"

"Why? 'Fraid I'll get fingerprints on 'em?"

"Just…just don't. They're not yours."

"Master Splinter says we should be versed in all weaponry."

"…You're too young for swords."

And you both knew the truth. You were very nearly the same age. Sometimes it just takes longer to learn to share.

Power.

"STOP IT!"

Power.

Falling through the floor 'til the feeling of dirt was a far-off, distant memory.

Sixth Terrace – the Gluttonous

Power, that Forbidden Fruit…the sweet taste of the taboo that destroyed Eden and brings men to their knees. You wanted it, sometimes for the right reasons, sometimes just to keep you safe.

The emptiness hit me as a pang in the stomach, though I had nothing left to purge. Tears blocked my airways, and I could no longer freely breathe.

"…Stop…just stop talking…"

You didn't want him to see you weak. You wanted to always be that pillar of strength, that guiding light. If he could see you fail, he would doubt you, and you needed -thrived like a starving man – on his admiration. You starved in secret for that attention. You needed those furtive, yearning glances that spoke the volumes he could not, and you could only keep up that façade as long as you felt powerful.

Power, Leonardo, corrupts.

Dry heaves wracking my body as I trembled. Faster now, the fall, spiraling, spinning, tumbling, down into the deepest thickness of Hell. Heat and sweat and guilt and pain-

Tumbling…fading…falling.

Falling into darkness, and into my own sin.

Falling...

…Until I hit.

Raphael

David kept a lotta books on his shelves. After all of the drugs and rapes and murders, I had a little bit of downtime. Sometimes used it to read.

Franz Kafka wrote this book called The Metamorphosis. It's translated, you know, so the language is kind of choppy. But you get the general idea.

There's this guy. He wakes up one morning and he's become a giant bug. You know, like a cockroach or something. Huge and nasty, but still has his brain and all his human thoughts. His family comes in and tries to kill him, thinking he's a monster. Eventually he convinces them that he is still the same man, trapped in that hideous body.

In the end, he's killed by his own sibling. On accident, maybe, but still.

Makes you wonder. If your outer shell sometimes get a little bit ugly…if you're not really what you seem…does it matter? If you look dark and rough around the edges, you're still the same person somewhere deep down inside, right?

Or is it better that you submit, and die?

Dunno. Donnie's the brainy one, not me.

Are you still the same? Can you be redeemed? Does it matter if you're a monster, if inside you're still just you?

Me, I just deal with it on the side. Sometimes the thoughts just creep in to that drafty old hide out still stained with David's blood. When I'm bouncing the Nightwatcher helmet in my hand and staring at the walls, that's when I do my thinking – an' I always come to the same conclusion.

No. It don't matter worth shit.

Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here

Seventh Terrace – the Lustful

My body felt warm and heavy – slack, as if it were sinking to the bottom of a heated pool. I tried to take in a breath, and coughed. My airways were blocked by the thick stench of acrid smoke. Everything was a dull pain, registered but not truly felt. With great effort, I opened my eyes.

In front of me there was a wall of fire. In the fire were the twisting, distorted shapes of so many burning souls.

"You're in the lowest level, Leonardo. You have come to face your darkest fear."

Prince Taanil was beside me again, eyes subdued and somber. Through him, I could make out the silently screaming face of a woman in pain before she was engulfed once more by the flames. I winced and turned away.

"What more can you do to me? Can't you see I'm already broken?"

His smile was sympathetic. "Broken? No, hardly. You're weakened, and very close to the end, but all of this was but a hint towards a larger purpose. You have yet to face your darkest sins."

Sins. Such a distinctly Christian word. In the life my brothers and I led, there was so little room for questions of morality and judgment. It was fight or flight, and sometimes we got to pick who to fight for: the good guys or the bad. Of course we always chose the good, but that didn't make us heroes. We were survivors, first and foremost, and that oftentimes came with a price. There was no denying, especially now, that I was extremely gifted in the art of death.

"That is not what I meant, Leonardo."

Shakily, with every muscle straining, I got to my feet. I squared my shoulders and stared at him, the heat from the Wall at my back making snakes of sweat slither down my skin and into my shell. "Do whatever, send me wherever. I'm tired and I want to end this, now."

He nodded slowly. "Very well. Walk through the fire, then."

My hands twitched. I turned to look at the Wall and paled. So many bodies in shapes they could not normally achieve. "Through…that?"

"It is the only way out of your chains. Incidentally, the only way out of the temple as well. The only way wherein you will remain alive, in any case."

I balled my hands into fists. "Fine. Whatever. So long as I leave in the end."

We met eyes. Though his were still mostly translucent, I could see a lot in them – stars, thoughts, dreams; they were eyes that Master Splinter would say 'had seen much of life'. In this case, I think it went beyond that…he was just as weary as I. My stance softened, and though my heart was still beating in fear of the horror behind me, his sadness was infinitely more compelling.

"I will do this," I said gently, "For both our sakes. I will free us both."

Again he nodded, but this time said nothing. I bowed, and my muscles ached all over. When I straightened, I turned on my heel and headed with all the courage I could muster towards the Fire. Arms reached out for me, scorched, and disappeared. All over were wide open eyes melting and the stench of burning hair. I let out my breath.

Please, I prayed to whatever sick forces were listening, Let this be quick.

I took a step forward, and the heat and pain of it pain and heat pain burning Fire PAIN-

Deep. Rending.

PAIN.

'Leonardo…'

Hands on his thighs, strong and callused. Leonardo's breath escaping in a shuddery slur. '…Raphael?'

'Heh. Yeah, S'me. Who else would touch you like this?'

The touch slid up, down, a smooth, slow dance. Fingers ghosting over knees and into the soft, sensitive flesh of inner thighs. A low moan escaped his throat. Everywhere, the air he breathed was warm.

'Raph, why're you…?'

'Doesn't matter. You like it, right?'

'Mmmm…' There could be no denying that. Yes, he liked it, no matter what.

Raphael appeared to him then, warm honeyed eyes narrowed and focused. His lips were parted, little short breaths escaping as his concentrated. His touches were more sure, teeth and tongue worrying at the pulsing vein of Leonardo's jugular. Leo's body, broken and bruised, began to quake.

'Raphael…' he ground out between clenched teeth. There was more heat now, tightness and desperation he couldn't deny.

'S'not who I am to you anymore, Leo. Y'can't say it that way, anymore.'

'Raph…' His hips jerked and tears welled in his eyes. 'Mmmnph, Raph…'

Those strong hands ghosted over him and he spasmed, biting his own tongue till he tasted blood. Not enough to satisfy, but enough to make him beg. 'Please…'

'You left us, Leo.' All he could see now was that stern, accusing face. It wasn't the rough anger he'd gotten used to before he left, but the open hurt of the Little Brother he'd once known.

Watching him train. Sharing his crayons. Pushing him into the mud, and laughing. Now those active, resourceful hands were holding him firmly down, forcing him to acknowledgement.

'You left us, and we have no idea where you are. You've forgotten us. You've forgotten me.'

'No, I never-'

'You want me to fuck you, Leo? S'that what you want?'

Leonardo's eyes snapped open. 'What?'

'It's all you seemed to want back then. Just my hands, my throat, my body. You didn't want me.'

He tried to sit up, but he was no match for his brother in terms of sheer brute strength. 'How can you say that?'

'If you wanted me, you wouldn't've left. You would've stayed.'

The night they'd first been like this, after a huge fight that had turned into angry kissing and fragile moments where words suddenly became inaccurate. They were both masters at misinterpretations, and always there was something hanging in that delicate, unsteady fulcrum. They'd met in the dojo, moved to the bedroom, and through blood and tears had given in to the darkness swelling inside them both. Leonardo could feel it rising in him now, that sick, overwhelming current that pulsed in his veins stronger than his own blood.

And as their sweat had cooled, he'd left. He'd taken the moral high road, and ended it – second guessing after sin.

'If you'd wanted me, you would have stayed.'

He strained for the touch, the darkness like bile in this throat. Tears coursed down his cheeks. He wanted to say "I'm sorry", but it came out 'Raph, God, please…'

A bitter chuckle. 'Yeah, can't deny it either. Don't you know you broke me then? Don't you even give a shit that the Little Brother you knew and loved DIED that night?'

It was Leonardo's worst fear, but he'd seen it coming. Nothing comes without a price. He choked and doubled over, falling into strong, hypocritical arms. His tense thighs shivered.

'It was the right thing to do…we can't continue like this…' but his body ached.

A derisive snort. 'The right thing, huh? You're a real trip, Leonardo. Got it all figured out. Well, fuck you and your impeccable logic. I hate you for it, now.' But even as the words were spoken, Raphael let go of him and rocked back on his shell. His eyes went dull and he spread his legs.

'This is what you wanted, all along. Here I am, m'not gonna fight. Take me. Go right ahead.'

Leonardo shivered to the core, hands clenching and unclenching into fists. He wanted – oh, there was no denying that! – but…

Raphael looking up at the moon through the bars of the sewer grate.

"Just helpin' you see stars, Leo."

He climbed onto his little brother, tears leaking onto the latter's plastron and rolling off the sides. The darkness pulsed strongly now.

"Am I my brother's keeper?"

Heat seared through him, frying his synapses, making his fingers spasm and jolt. Raph remained still, eyes narrowed, judging him the whole time.

Eyes that had been concerned, gentle. "You really think that, don't you?"

Now turned against him, accusatory. Raph's body, firm and yielding below him.

He was so close. All he had to do was reach forward and –take-…

But Raph…

"Leo, you don't always gotta be so perfect. We like you just because."

Little Brother eyes, the kind that universally looked up to their brothers and said One day, I'll be just like him.

Donnie, patient, gentle, abandoned and secretly bitter…

Mikey, brilliant, cheerful, now a cynical shell…

Raph gone off to God Knows Where…

All of them scratching a living off of memories and dust.

Suddenly the body below Leonardo didn't feel so firm. He summoned everything he knew he had inside of him, within and without – thought of Sancho, of Taanil – of Master Splinter, but most of all…

Most of all…

Most of all, he thought of Raphael. His difficult, contradictory, precious little brother with the jaded smirk and the deadly fists. Thought of him and how gently and hesitantly he'd cradled Leonardo on their first and last night together. Thought of him as a child, toddling after him, always barely two steps behind. Thought of his friendly smacks on the back, his breath smelling of beer after a night with Casey, his hands bandaged and bleeding but the cocky grin splitting his face making it better.

His brother, his missing piece, his soul. The Yang to his Yin. Both of them so difficult to put together, but so incomplete when left without.

He thought of all of this, smiled gently at the apparition below him, and slowly stood. Leonardo stretched out his hand to the fantasy below him, which "Raph" took in confusion.

'I spent all of my life trying to figure you out. Sometimes hating you, always needing you. Now I know why,' he said gently, patiently. His voice had steadied and calmed, the darkness ebbing out of his system to be replaced with soothing cool. He leaned in and pressed his mouth to "Raph's" with all the sweetness he had left. They parted, and in an instant the vision disappeared.

Immediately, his vision went white.

Things cleared. My body was caressed by a cool breeze. I came back to my senses with a deep and infinite feeling of peace. I could hear water splashing and felt the cool mist on my face. All my eyes could see were clouds blowing by, the sky golden and light shining through in beams.

Is that what it was all about, then? We all had to sit back, accept, and let go? We had to gather all of the sickness inside of us, and look at it comparatively?

Something had changed inside me. I felt so…so light, so weightless. There was nothing holding me down now. I had only to reach inside myself, seek that pure light that was the love of him, and I was fine. I could do anything.

As I passed from that area and closed my eyes in bliss I knew it: There was a certain love and beauty about this that nothing could touch. Neither sin nor arguments nor guilt could overshadow that which I now knew.

I had the Power already, and he pulsed beside me like a steady breath. I had found what I was looking for.

And now, with that knowledge...

I, Leonardo, could perform miracles.

Prince Taanil, or the parts of him that weren't slowly dissolving into the fading light, smiled down at the peaceful, prone body of Leonardo resting on the marble floor. He knelt, passing a hand over his plastron and placed an airy kiss on his brow, then stood. By the time he had turned and stepped away he was gone entirely. Leonardo never woke but remained still, his hands clutching a brightly shining blue medallion languidly reflecting the clouds as they passed in the fading twilight sky.