Author's Note: Warnings from previous interlude chapter apply. I know you are all waiting anxiously for the next regular chapter; it will appear after this one. You may at some point in this chapter ask, "Does Leo have issues?" Yes, and we will not be blaming them entirely on parenting, but somewhat on the resentment that comes from feeling you have to constantly take care of a sibling. Here, you will see why I called these two interludes dark, and why I warned you. Welcome to the Fall of Raph and Leo. Feedback MUCH appreciated... this was a dangerous chapter to endeavor. Enjoy!
Time went by; Raphael had his own growth spurt, and turned twelve, and they were the same again. They didn't talk about their new game—it was identical to racing, sparring, running, arm-wrestling—their thing, an act of physicality, which owned no words and had no place at home, with their family, but only when together. It was never anything to be discovered, weaving its roots through all their secrets invisibly. Raphael stopped yearning for Splinter's notice, content with that life outside the den, for a few hours every day, yet his hunger to be outside grew week by week. He sometimes stopped as they walked, eyes glazed as the sounds from above reached him; we watched the least TV of all his brothers, yet he knew the most about humans. Their world haunted him; their voices awoke something sharp in his mind, stole breath from his lungs. This was his and his brother's world—though in shadow, not in darkness, ghosts in between two realities, still innocent of the woes from above, pacing, inch-by-inch, towards the answer.
In Leo's stomach was born a strange, black fire, whispering to him of a conclusion he didn't yet know—a conclusion to the odd rap beats, gunshot roars, light caresses of skin, his brother's faraway eyes, the snap of a bird's neck, sirens, motorcycle engines, smoke, touching lips turned to laughing, half-serious wrestling, challenges and dares and danger, coming back from the edge, unscathed, unscathed, unscathed… Dogmatic, his march to this conclusion, discovering alongside his brother, his twin, as ever. In this day-by-day, Leonardo approached thirteen, began leading his brothers in basic training, correcting their stances, dragging them from bed, directing them from breakfast until dinner, while Master Splinter meditated, intervening only when necessary. Attack runs, group practice, balance work, weapons. Responsibility, adaptation. Power. Perfection. Coming down hardest on Raphael during training, expecting the best from his secret double, continuously disappointed until they returned to their camaraderie in the tunnels, and Raph would out-strip him running or climbing or through burning courage, that defiant glare in his eyes. Challenging him, every day, honing his every decision and driving Leo to distraction. Yet Raph too rose to the challenge; by night he weight-trained, building lean, ropey muscle over his gawky preteen limbs, to keep up with Leonardo's sheer balance and force of mental will.
Raphael left the den more often, afraid of the boiling writhing in his guts when Mikey taunted him, or Don made some comment about his simplicity, or Splinter lectured him to follow Leo's orders without back-talk. To him, o-nii-san was just another goofy twelve-year-old. Leo would find him in one of their hang-outs, and they wouldn't talk about home; Leo needed his fiery, fascinating brother, though he couldn't quite vocalize this—needed him to find the answers, though this truth was long in coming. Needed his equal, his rival, his mirror, his shadow, his ghost. His twin.
This drive towards a conclusion guided them in everything.
One day, after Leo had turned thirteen, they finished the long construction of one rather ambitious dam in the sewers, watching from the edge as fish and frogs used it for a playground, the pair of them feeling triumphant. Their voices had both begun to lower and change, sometimes making them look at each other and laugh, not recognizing themselves and needing assurance in the glance; they were together so often that the change didn't seem that jarring. They were both still skinny and gawky, Raph especially lined with awkward muscle, while Leo's laced his bones a bit more gracefully—yet they could secretly admire it in each other by communication of sight—Raph watching Leo's smooth, calculated and easy movements, eloquent and precise curve of sword and leg—Leo astonished at the passion and force of his brother's unpredictable strikes, the challenging angle of his jaw and bold flex of muscles.
The dam kept them out long after they should have been, but Leonardo didn't seem to notice how time had gone by; they were still relaxed and at home with their dam when his brother nudged him, almost sending him catapulting into the water, giving him a smiling dare, and they jumped off the edge to wrestle. Neither of them yielded well, sending light insults and provocations back and forth with a fair share of chuckling at each other's resourceful ways of not getting pinned; by the time Raph finally slammed Leo shell-first again the piping wall, adrenaline had squeezed their pupils in tight, reducing them to tunnel vision, and both panted for breath. He watched Raphael's eyes, full of fire, open and clear, never less opaque, and Leo leaned into him, as thoughtless and fluid as doing kata, going smoothly from violence to caress in less than a second.
They were still gasping for breath, and there was something blind and mind-numb in what happened next, until Raph brushed lightly underneath Leo's shell, almost by accident, and heard a sharp intake of air, making him snap his hand back as though he'd hurt him—but Leo's arm came out, grabbing his wrist, gentle and stern, reassuring. Raphael, unsure of his actions but continuing, maintained watching his brother's hooded, faraway, fixated eyes, as Leo's breathing shallowed, quickened. Light on the other end of a tunnel, an answer on the other side of a death, life after a conclusion, yet the blackness in between perplexed him, choked and engulfed him, until he could be safely on the other side.
Splinter's voice, far away and calling for them, shattered their illusory world and jarred them apart, wide-eyed. Leo could not recall his peripheral vision, still miles from the answer—could not control his breathing, disoriented, driven by that black fire, which made him feel vaguely empty and obsessed. His heart rocked against his shell, loud enough that Raphael must have heard it. Their father called again, echoing down sewer pipes and sounding closer.
"Hashitai?" Raph asked—Wanna run? "Pretend we couldn't hear?"
Leonardo looked at his brother, surprised—with a shudder, he answered: "Yes."
Raphael grabbed his brother's forearm, and they ran from the dam and its loud trickle, knowing it would shield the sounds of their feet and impede their sensei long enough for a fighting chance, dodging through tunnels they knew like their own skins, breakneck and eventually stifling laughter again, until they stumbled into one of their hideouts, knowing they were safe. Leo panted away a fresh surge of adrenaline, energized, feeling the edge of the obsession dulled by the exercise.
"I… I don't…" he breathed, smiling. "I don't know why I did that."
Raphael chuckled. "Welcome to my life. You okay?"
Leo frowned. "Yeah, of course. I've run farther than that before, Raphi."
Raph blinked at him, but left it alone. He let out a breath of laughter. "Mr. Perfect doesn't wanna go back to training?"
Leo shook his head, smile gone. "It's… I just…"
"Can't be perfect all the time." It was more a completion of his own sentence than a statement of Raph's own. His little brother's face watched him, hard but perceptive. No. Raphael wasn't simple. Leo rolled so they sat side-by-side, instead of facing each other.
"Just a few more minutes," he whispered. "Then we have to go back." He listened to his brother's steady breathing, until he realized Raph's head had fallen against his shoulder, giving him that steady, mesmerizing sound in sleep. Leo didn't rush to wake him. The fire dimmed in his stomach, only a dull roar, clawing at his insides for the end to an unfinished sentence, yet slightly distant, like a memory.
He stood in the alleyway, where it was dark instead of light, pressed against a wall, watching Raphael's glittering eyes, showing him that half-smothered fire. As he watched, Leo realized the flames burned down in his brother's stomach, just as they did in his own, though they had different ways of feeding the inferno, different paths to meeting its ends. It was so much easier to feed it together, a few hours every day. The alley became a tunnel, ringed by human voices, shouting, bright cacophony, a wrath of answers too numerous to be understood. Then Raphael was shaking him, with wide eyes.
The next thing Leo knew he was back in the hideout, looking up into his brother's face who, panicked, crouched above him.
"Leo! Wake up! Master Splinter's gonna kill us!"
Leonardo sat up, disoriented, gazing around. All at once it hit him.
"Oh, my god… how long've we been asleep? What time is it?" His eyes fell on his younger brother. "Kill us? No—he'll give you chores—he'll kill me. Come on!"
Raph argued as they ran. "It's both of our stupid faults! I don't see how your being a little older makes you all magically responsible for everything."
Leo paused and whirled on Raph. "In case you hadn't noticed, Raphael, I'm in charge of you, and I have been for a long time. That means that if we're out later than we should be, even if I didn't mean it—and I did—then I take the blame!"
Raph clenched his fists. "I don't need you babysitting me! You're no better'n I am at anything outside the dojo!"
Leo's voice went quiet and dangerous. "Don't you realize you can't back yourself up? No one listens to you except me. You couldn't be five feet from home if I wasn't along for the ride—so what does it matter if we're practically the same age? In the end, I'm responsible for you, I have to think for you, I could keep you at the den or have you train all day or make you do nothing but dishes, and you don't get that!" Leo backed away, his voice breaking. "And when you do, you'll hate me."
Raph gazed at him, open and clear-eyed. "Out here and up top's what's real, Leo, and here we're the same. Master Splinter can let you be in charge all he wants, but in the real world, we're the same. That's what I see."
Leo shook his head. "There's only one world, Raphi."
Raphael smiled daringly. "Exactly."
They rushed in the den door, and nearly bumped smack into Donnie, who was standing in front of the entryway, a short-range walkie-talkie in his hands. Without changing a rather stern expression or pausing to greet them, he clicked on a channel and spoke.
"Sewerzilla, this is Home Dweller—the eagles have landed, over."
Mikey's voice crackled on the other side. "Bomb-diggity, Home Dweller. We'll be back in zero-five, over."
Raph rolled his eyes, while Leo glanced at the clock—10:30 PM. They'd been missing for several hours past curfew, in the tunnels long into the time of sewer maintenance and nocturnal predators. Donnie lowered the walkie-talkie.
"You guys are in so much trouble," he said, almost in disbelief, and walked forward. He had a pin-knife in his other hand. "Which one wants to be the victim and which one the hero?"
Leo blinked. "Huh? What are you talking about—put he knife away, Donatello."
Raph grinned. "Doncha get it? Donnie cuts one've us up like we got attacked by something and we get our story straight."
Donnie gave them a half-smile. "Astute observation, little brother. Maybe you're not as hopeless as I thought. You ready for a crocodile bite?"
Leo extended an arm. "I said put the knife away, Donatello. We're not going to lie to our sensei—we broke the rules and we'll accept the consequences."
Donnie sighed. "Suit yourself. You survive this and I'll be amazed."
When Mikey led Master Splinter back through the door, the old rat's face appeared stretched between extremes of worry and anger, even with his strong capability to keep that face impassive. His eyes fell automatically upon Leonardo, who matched them, kneeling respectfully. Raphael, balling his fists, stepped forward.
"It's my fault," he said doggedly, almost defiantly, desperately. He was standing in front of his eldest brother, who stood back up in amazement upon his words.
Master Splinter's face softened a bit, and he came forward then, laying a land on Raph's shoulder. Only then could his son see the palpable fear in the old rat's eyes.
"Raphael… my strong son. I have spent the last hours in terror—believing you were in danger. Ever you walk the line between our world and another… ever you slip away from me. I was afraid I had lost you for good."
Raphael blinked at him, feeling newly desperate at the deep sadness in his adopted father's eyes. "Please. It was my fault. It really was. I persuaded him—it was my idea. If one of us has to take responsibility, let it be me."
"Raphael"—Leo tried, but stopped, swallowing.
Splinter's eyes remained on Raph. "Your brother holds power over you. That you cannot see it, keeps the two of you close. You are fortunate in this. But you must let me deal with it. Now go"—he nodded towards the kitchen—"and do your chores. You are grounded until your brother is permitted to leave the den again, unless I accompany you."
But Raphael wouldn't—or couldn't—budge from in front of Leo. He looked close to tears, and his croaking voice reflected as much. "But it was my fault. This isn't fair."
"Raphi…" Leo whispered, low but strong. "Go."
Raph turned to stare at him, searchingly, and at last yielded, storming into the kitchen and collecting dishes, his face cold and hard as stone, eyes burning. Mikey and Donnie backed away from Leo and Splinter, joining their brother at the kitchen table. Without further ado, the sensei lightly smacked his eldest over the face with the butt of his walking stick, a strange fury in his eyes. Leo kneeled again, not letting out a peep of pain.
"I must confess, Leonardo. I rely very heavily on you, even now, when you are so young," Splinter said, in a voice made slightly breathless by anger. "Perhaps too much. Do you believe that?"
Leo shook his head. "No. I am honored by the responsibility. I made a bad decision and a worse mistake tonight. I'm sorry I failed."
Splinter banged his walking stick into the ground. "And you offer no explanation? For why you worried your brothers and your father for hours into the night, why you led Raphael in breaking the rules and broke the trust that keeps him under your responsibility? Why you put him in danger, when he trusts you so much he would offer to take the blame from off your shoulders?"
Raph, watching with a dish in his hands, winced noticeably. Leo didn't answer, keeping his silence, their secrets.
Splinter breathed in, calming himself. "Do you not understand the myriad of dangers that open up at night, underground, when your training is incomplete and I cannot find you, when I have no idea if you are safe? You are forbidden from leaving the den for a month. Now—into the dojo, and you will know the pain you have caused our family. I am sorry I have to be so hard on you, Leonardo, for the good of you all."
Leo stood quietly, avoiding his father's eyes, and followed him into the dojo, accepting. So much taller now—growing more elegant, easy footsteps, smooth musculature. Raphael felt a strange ache; he would die for his brother—but he couldn't save him from this. They heard only periodic sounds of impact, rhythmic, followed by silence, no cries of anguish, no indication of Leonardo's pain. At last, the dojo door slid open, and Leo walked slowly, but steadily, out into the den, towards the bunkroom. Donnie and Mikey, as well as Raph, who was finishing his chores, watched him as he went: bruised around the arms and legs, his eyes straight ahead, making contact with none of them. Raphael dried his hands and went after him.
Leo was already in bed, face to the wall, when his brother came in, the room dark. Raph shut the door behind himself, and sat on the edge of Leo's bottom bunk, below his own.
"I would've taken it if he'd let me, Leo… I would've…"
"You're so stupid, Raphael. You should've kept your dumb mouth shut," Leo said into the wall. "You just made it worse."
Raph fought against his own pride, coming closer—he wouldn't have done it for any other brother, for any other reason, at any other point in his life, back or forward three years. He placed a hand on Leo's arm. "I love you, big bro."
Leo covered Raphael's hand with his own. "I know. But you… you don't see—today really was my fault. And all of this—I deserved it. I failed Master Splinter by betraying his trust, and he needs to be able to trust me so much, and now we're stuck here for a month."
"Don't, Leo. It was both of us—we both ran, we both fell asleep. The same. Okay?"
Leonardo turned away from the wall, to look at him. "That's why I… You're the only one, who doesn't see it. It's all leveled out to you, the way the world works. It's fair with you. I'm just… just Leo in your eyes."
Raph remained silent, in the dark room. Leo sat up, looking for his brother's glittering eyes—leaned in, and brushed their lips together. It was a moment of colliding realities, a compromise of worlds, as Raphael pushed back, smiling. Leo's muscles felt soft from the bruises, now soothed under the light touch. They created a small space, where again their reality above settled like a blanket around them, equalizing and safe. Leo pulled away, but leaned their foreheads against each other.
"Thanks, Raph."
Raphael laughed. "What—not Raphi? Not Raphael?"
Leo smiled warmly. "You're getting big, little brother."
In that month they were stuck at home, while Splinter accompanied Donnie and Mikey, teaching them the art of scavenging, Raphael turned thirteen, and he and Leo did equal parts training and a lot of television. They spent hours in the practice room, Leo meditating silently, while his brother went at the punching bag, beating out a constant rhythm: It's not fair, it's not fair. He would come out of the haze, to see Leonardo, holding the bag to stop it, giving him a wry grin.
One day near the end of their sentence, they both finally collapsed on the couch after Leo had them training brutally long; within seconds of turning on the TV, Raph had fallen asleep, exhausted and content in the near-empty den. Leo sat in the middle of the sofa, after smiling at his brother's sleeping face; he breezed through the channels, landing on a CNN news special about Japanese Noh drama, leaning back happily. The program ended after a promise for another cultural special like it, so Leo stayed on the otherwise boring news channel in case of catching it. News about celebrities, school shootings, presidents. The human world confounded him when he couldn't stand just at the threshold, listening to the buzz of voices that helped to give it sense. He was close to dozing off himself when the next report caught his attention.
"Yes, thank you, Susan. A SHOCKING story today, here at a family home at the edge of Durango, Colorado—a small, quiet city in the American mid-west—or is it? In this seemingly wholesome town has come a stunning upset. A fifteen-year-old boy was removed today from his home, after a teacher at the local elementary school reported that his twelve-year-old brother told one of his friends that his brother has been fondling and touching him inappropriately for at least several months. Dr. Stephen Bobrow of the University of Colorado had this to say." The scene cut to an expert, an old man with glasses. Leo leaned forward, blinking. "Sociologists report that such incestuous experimentation is not uncommon—at least 46 of incest is between siblings and entirely consensual, fading as children grow older." Back to the news woman, getting interviews. An old woman. "Oh, it was such a surprise—I remember those boys runnin' around, playing tag—I never thought bleep would ever touch his brother like that, it's just so shocking, so horrible!"Another cut to some interviews of outraged or disbelieving residents, then back to the reporter. Leo's breathing became shallow. "As the young man has reached the age of consent, social workers made the decision yesterday to remove him from the home to protect his younger siblings; this morning, the state filed charges of sexual abuse, citing that, despite seeming consent, difference in age may have rendered the younger brother's agreement a result of coercion. More on this disturbing story as it develops. Kate Smithson—CNN, Durango."
Leo's mind raced, creating odd webs and pathways. He saw the couple in the alley, heard their words.
Bad. Touching. Horrible. Fondling. Shocking.
Remove. Separated. Abuse. Coercion.
Leonardo found he was trembling, with a nameless fear. What they did had words—it had moral equivalents—and in the human world, it had math and statistics and phenomena and consequences. He picked up Donnie's dictionary, looking up some of the words—coercion, sexual abuse. He looked at his brother's sleeping face again, feeling sick and empty. Without his knowledge, part of his mind began working, devising, sculpting reasons and validations and postulates—a way out of that empty feeling, without destroying what they had. Raphael went on sleeping, calm breathing, oblivious. Leo envied him terribly, and this feeling alone troubled him. For once, he wanted not to know something. To un-know it, to release the dogma. Perhaps if he were anyone but himself, he could've seen the differences, found reasons why it wasn't what the humans said it had to be. Instead, his mind turned on him, stabs of self-hatred and anger and fear without a face. The boys had been separated because the younger one told someone, betrayed his brother.
They must keep it secret. That was the only way.
Their sentence passed over, and now thirteen-year-old Raphael could go into the sewers for a good distance on his own for the first time. He still scavenged with Leo, but for a while they only played tag and wrestled, never moving into that particular game, as though one of them were steering away from it, and Leo wasn't sure it was himself. Raph would disappear in the evenings, until Leonardo came out to find him.
One evening near curfew, as the sun was setting above, he found Raphael in a high tunnel, sitting against the wall, below a storm drain—the pipe here was dry from a day of summer heat. Kids were out of school, and it promised to be a warm night; the street above smelled like gasoline, hot dogs, mustard, smog, and ozone, when tap water hit the pavement. Leo felt slightly hurt to see his brother out without him—when he'd first been allowed, Leo supposed that after the novelty wore off he'd stop, but Raph had a loner streak in him. In fact, it seemed almost that Leo was being avoided.
Some of what he felt must have showed on his face, because when Raph looked down from the lit street he started with an apology.
"Hey—I would've asked you with me, but you were meditating with Master Splinter."
Leo shook his head, embarrassed his brother had noticed so easily. He sat down beside him.
"Almost time to go in."
Raph grinned, playfully sarcastic. "Yeah, thanks, warden."
Leo grinned and punched his arm lightly. "By the way, Master Splinter wants me to go over your katas with you one more time before dinner. He seems to think I'll make them more understandable."
Raph frowned. "I got them okay today. I'll ask him about them in practice tomorrow."
Leo looked at him strangely. "But—Raph, he told me to go over them with you."
Raph was troubled. "You don't have to if you don't want to. You trained a lot today—we couldn't even go scavenging. Mikey and Donnie had to do it."
Leo laughed a little derisively. "Is that what this is about? You're gonna slack off training with me because I didn't go scavenging with you today?"
Raph looked bewildered, then snorted. "No. I'm just sayin'—you trained a lot today, and you don't have to worry about my kata on top a' yours. That's all."
Leo was quiet for a minute, then shrugged. "I don't mind."
Raph looked from the sky to the ground. "Yeah, right. Then you get mad at me after normal training if I don't get it right. It's not your job, Leo."
"It is my job."
"Well, maybe it shouldn't be!" the outburst was louder than Raphael had intended—it seemed like he'd been brooding in this longer than he'd made it seem.
"What?" Leo glared, astounded. "Who else would do it? What, are you jealous or something?"
Raph squinted at his older brother. "I'd never be jealous of what being older brother and our leader does to you. But I'd take the job, any day." He visibly stopped himself. "I hate watching you kill yourself to impress Master Splinter—I hate it when he punishes you more than me—I hate all of it."
Leo never understood better than on that day—all others after were misted with pride and mistrust and misunderstanding. But he saw in his little brother's eyes a protectiveness as fierce as his own, and something—love—filled his chest, making sounds fade in and out. He was disturbed for a moment—after over a year of it, his first inclination in response to affection for Raphael was to touch him. He felt shame now, and terror, and it had kept him from being so outward—but this time he acted, overwhelmed, without thinking. It was the only knowing kiss they would ever have.
Raphael hesitated before responding, which, on reflection, was strange for him; he was the type to dive heedlessly into everything, wild and hungry, eager for more experience. His response was shy, tentative, like the first time, but pursued Leo, trying to make it last longer—Raphael surprised him, after that, when he was the first to pull away, almost abruptly. They looked at each other for a very long moment, while Raph swallowed, as though trying to summon up words for something.
"Raph…"
Raphael shook his head, speaking before he lost it.
"I… I don't think we should do this anymore."
The bottom dropped out of Leo's stomach.
"Do… do what?"
Raph continued to shake his head. "You'll get in trouble. If Master Splinter ever finds out, he'll be so mad. And it would be fine, if I didn't know he'd—if he didn't blame you. I would take my half of the punishment. But he'll separate us, just like those kids. He'll have to."
Leo looked around; he had a hand on his brother's arm, and could vividly feel the blood pounding through his veins, the warmth in his skin. Of the whirl of emotions—panic, dread, surprise—one started to surface, irrationally. This. Saying it out loud somehow made it no longer implicit, no longer a secret. They had never plucked it out of their lives in the tunnels, tried to disentangle it from the weave of secrets they had together, from the code of their identity. So easy, so sickening, to hear it aloud. But it tinged everything, permeated every secret, every story, every hideout, every inside joke and treasure. Betrayal.
"You—you heard the news story? Why'd you act like you were asleep?" Leo asked, bewildered by the rush of crimson passing over his vision, inverting his world so quickly after the last time.
Raph smiled, confused. "Leo, I do that all the time. You know that."
"Not to me you don't!" It came out sounding different than Leo intended—starting as betrayal in his gut, and passing out of his lips with the sound of retribution to it. He realized his grip had tightened on his brother. Hearing it, so real, tightened around his heart. So Raphael knew. "I'm… Master Splinter's gonna kill me…"
Raph frowned. "I kinda thought we agreed not to do it anymore, you know… without sayin' anything. But I won't tell, Leo."
Leonardo didn't know how to react anymore; he raged at himself, confused at everything he was feeling. He wanted this to continue, and it sickened his heart to want it. His stomach hurt every time he thought of it, knots forming in his core. He dreaded the consequences, and hated… He hated Raphael for being younger, not really his twin, and unable to take the same burden on his shoulders—hated himself for all of it, for keeping it going, for not knowing the right thing to do—why didn't Bushido cover this, why had no one told him—how could he get in trouble for not knowing, for being unable to go backwards once he did? He hated the uncertainty, unsure of how far his power had made it possible to go. His fury found an outlet; his peripheral vision began to contract.
"How do I know that? All you ever do is lie to us—you keep everything you think to yourself, and wander out here alone, and pretend like you're stupid and crazy and not listening—and for what? You want Splinter's attention, at least I know that much! Tell him about this and you'll get it! I'm the one who'll get in trouble—you've got no reason not to!"
After several moments of ringing silence, Raphael's face hardened, and black anger stole into his amber eyes. He stuttered from sheer rage, of the likes Leo had seldom seem his brother produce. "You think I'd—you, out of everyone—you don't know a single stupid thing about me!"
Some large part of Leonardo knew his brother, and knew none of it was true—but it felt good to say, because he also knew what Raph's reaction would be. He blocked the punch, before they both rolled over, locked in combat, now more serious than the play wrestling that they were accustomed to. Leo managed to pin him for a moment, below the fading light from above; the sun gleamed in his brother's eyes.
"We—we're not like the humans," he hissed, his mind stumbling upon all its silent justifications. "We're above their stupid laws—we have honor, and we have each other, and the shadows. It's just another secret, Raphi…"
Raphael looked longingly up at the sky, past Leo and to the reality beyond them. "There's only one world, Leo. You told me that."
Leo felt a curtain fall between them—he couldn't understand, couldn't see past his brother's opaque eyes, reflecting light and nothing else—could no longer see that fascinating fire, couldn't fix himself in his brother's line of sight. Then, with a click, their gazes met.
"I know why they say it's wrong, though," Raph said, quietly. "You treat me different than Don and Mikey while we're practicing. It's made us different from them. We're not… not always actin' like brothers anymore."
"That's because you're my fr"—Leo stopped, realizing the truth of it even as he said it. My friend. Out here, they had become friends. He could tell it hurt Raph more than anything to say what he did next.
"We're not friends, Leo! We don't get to have friends! Master Splinter will find out about this eventually. I wouldn't care, because I know it's different. But it means everything to you, to be big brother, and you'd take the punishment, and we wouldn't be allowed to be anything anymore, except leader and soldier. I'll take brothers over nothin'. We're stuck with each other forever—we can't be separate from Donnie and Mikey, we can't pretend humans are so much different from us, that we're the only ones in the world. Even if we… if we have to start over."
Start over. That was when Leo felt it, how even wrestling and fighting and hurting each other, how even that had been colored by what they did, how everything transported the secret with it, how everything fed the black fire inside of him, and the sick sensation at the pit of his stomach. Terror griped him, as he felt their world dissolving away, felt his best friend melting under his grasp, replaced only by the remnants of his hated, unfathomable, emotional crybaby little brother, who had always followed him and taken his abuse and watched him with wide eyes. The twin was his friend, the boy with something just beyond the simple defiance in his eyes, reason behind the passion and perception in his blank looks, who knew Leo like no one ever had or ever would. And that person was retreating, dying, leaving him so little to hang onto. Leo began to hear voices—the TV, the couple in the alley, Master Splinter. This was bad—and abusive—and horrible—and his fault.
They had been in a relaxed position by this time, and Raphael moved to help his brother up—Leo grasped his arm, still staring at the last spot he'd been looking in—sick and trapped, guilty and suddenly alone, rage and horror fanning at his face—he made a sudden motion, and they were fighting again, in earnest. Leo was shocked at the violence of it, and at his own strength, superseding his sibling who could bench-press far more than he, driven in an animal desperation toward that conclusion he couldn't fathom and couldn't name. In a haze, he deliberately hit at the nerves in Raphael's arms, temporarily paralyzing them—when he still felt struggles, he picked his brother up a few inches and slammed him back down, shell first, into the pipe.
"Leo—Jesus, I told you I wouldn't tell—why're you still freaking out?" Raph protested.
Leo glanced at him; his words worked for him, slipping out. "I know you won't."
He pinned the wrists with one hand over Raphael's head, and heard himself say, in the same way he had once done before tickling his brother at eleven, though his voice sounded somewhat hollow:
"Got ya."
Raph stared at him, surprised, then started to laugh. "You worried me there for a minute"—then stopped, his smile slowly melting, when he saw Leonardo's face. So seldom was the eldest ever out of control—his pupils reduced to pinpricks and letting in little light, shallow breathing, his muscles all tensed—Raphael stared, as if frozen.
Out here, they would share some of the burden. Leo reached under Raphael's shell and returned the unfinished touch that had obsessed him since it had happened, making his brother know at least once how it felt, the fire gnawing at his insides. Raph turned his head away, eyes squeezed shut, and silence reigned over the passage, where darkness and shadows took over the last scraps of sunset light from above.
A small sound fought its way out of Raphael's throat, halfway between the hitched breath of a sob and a groan, sobering Leonardo, and he stiffened, the pipe and the world around him gradually coming back, in figments and shadows and realizations. He removed his hand, only half-aware of what he had been doing, and looked up, to see his brother cringing, his face as far left as he could possible make it against the ground, his body tensed up. His brother was in pain—waves of protectiveness stole over Leo, maddening—what had happened, why was his little brother shaking, what was hurting him—
"Raph… look at me. Please."
Raphael did not turn his head, but his eyes opened—screened by tears of humiliation, and shame, and betrayal.
A voice in the back of Leo's mind, vigilant and aware and watchful, whispered: You went too far. He felt strangely empty, drained of the dizzying whirl of emotions giving him onslaughts before—all he wanted was to cover his brother and protect him, and take the poison away. He realized he was still holding Raphael's wrists, and dropped them, surprised—he stumbled backwards and off of his plastron. Raph rolled over, in the direction of his turned head, huddled into himself for a moment—before getting to his feet, desperately fighting tears.
Leo would have dropped to his knees at that moment, feeling he might cry himself—words escaped him, all but a few.
"Raphi… please… Please don't tell Master Splinter…"
Raphael didn't look at him, but his voice was strong and sincere, and full of despair. "I won't. No one would believe me over you anyways."
And walked away from Leo, down the tunnel.
Leonardo watched Raph go, and felt acutely his own power—and it sickened him.
