Falling Leaves
Leonardo:
My thoughts were as fleeting and shifting as the dark clouds that seared the gray sky over my head. The wind was finally kicking up a bit, and I shivered at the drop in temperature. A harsh, sharp wind swept up over the battered trees, and I shuddered when I heard the scraping whisper of hissing, dying leaves. A few of them skittered down from the woods, and landed forlornly on Mikey's new grave. I watched as one leaf flittered across the sky, twirled down, and lighted gently at my feet. It was a vivid gold, a bright happy shade that reminded me of better memories of Mikey than lowering him into the ground.
I picked it up, and held it between two fingers, feeling an odd, bittersweet sense of comfort that resembled something softer than the black despair of these last few days. Thank God for that, at least.
My walk back to the farmhouse was quiet. Casey and April were already back there, April huddled under Casey's protective arm, and both of them excusing themselves to give us privacy. We were all subdued, quiet, and too scraped raw after the ordeal of laying our sibling to rest to make much conversation. Donny stayed close to me and Splinter, and he gave me a nod when I silently gave him a worried look. I kept one arm carefully anchored around Master Splinter's shoulders, making sure that he had some sort of support after what he had endured. Even though Master Splinter was older now, he normally moved with grace and strength. Now, he clutched at my arm, and stumbled along blindly, his eyes fixed to the ground and his feet shuffling slowly through the field. I could feel his shoulders tremble as he raised one paw to brush away his tears, and then, mine.
"Leonardo. Donatello, my sons. Please, walk with me."
He held out his paws, pleading, and Donny silently walked over, wrapped Splinter's paw in his hands, and together, the three of us crossed the field without speaking. It felt wrong to feel my father's frail, thin arm trembling beneath my grip, to see his empty, despairing eyes and his bowed head. From the way he was barely picking up his feet to walk, I was fearful that Splinter would fall. Luckily, Donny saw my worried look, and carefully angled Splinter's arm for a better grip, and the three of us slowly meandered in one sad, wilting line.
I was aching and tired from digging Mikey's grave, and then refilling it. The actual act of turning around and walking away from Mikey's resting place felt as if I was tearing part of my soul out and leaving it to rot in the dirt. I also knew that it was final, and finished. Mikey was buried now, buried and gone, buried and not coming back.
That thought rattled through my brain like a fistful of pebbles. At my side, Donny kept glancing at me, the unspoken concern making his eyes even more haggard, and I forced my lips to curl into a reassuring smile.
As we entered the farmhouse, April took over and shepherded us all into the dining room, announcing that after our ordeal, we needed to eat.
I didn't have the heart to argue with April, after all she had already done for us. I just wish that I could have showed my gratitude more.
I stared numbly at the plate before me, watching the steam rise from the boiled potatoes, and ignoring the dinner that April had kindly prepared for us. Normally, I would have gladly eaten it out of enjoyment, or to be polite, but I wasn't hungry, and I was honestly too drained and scraped raw to make an effort.
Apparently, April had thought that the best way to help us deal with Mikey's internment was to ply us with food and hope that somehow, the physical act of eating would do something to fill the gaping hole that seemed to run to my very core.
Except for Raph, all the surviving members of my family were all seated around the huge oak table. Splinter was hunched over, and grasping the warm cup of tea in his paws. Donny was picking at his potatoes and nibbling out of good manners and obligation than actual hunger. April kept flitting back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room, to add another dish, or to give me and my brothers a worried look. Casey was standing in the corner, looking uncertain and out of place, with his arms folded, and his dark eyes occasionally glancing at us. Our human family members were trying hard to help us and for that, I was grateful, I truly was. It was just now, I was honestly too empty and consumed with my own thoughts to pay much attention to the outside world.
Normally, the quiet moments would have been filled with either Mikey's jokes, or Raph's complaints. And now, both of my brothers were at the grave, one dead, and the other, lost. I shivered when I thought of Raphael, out there in the dark, staring at the grave, alone, and wondering if it would have been better to go after him, or let him come to us. Four days ago, it wouldn't have been an issue. It was understood that Raph needed his space to work through whatever was bothering him, and you only interrupted his 'alone time' if you had a death wish. Was I cruel to leave him alone as he asked, or would I be cruel for disrupting that?
I didn't know. And, what was worse, I knew that for the moment, anyway, I didn't have the strength to fight with Raphael, or drag him back to the farmhouse. I couldn't do it, not now. So, I didn't try.
My attention drifted back to the family that was with me. April gave me another worried look as she darted back to the kitchen for more uneaten food .Aside from the occasional whispers between April and Casey, there wasn't any sound except the chirp of the insects outside, and the clinking of Donny's fork against his plate.
It was a surreal scene, and one that I was far too detached and distant from to truly feel, if that makes any sense. What sort of reaction was I supposed to have to burying my own brother? Was it a sign of strength that I hadn't fallen apart completely, or was it a sign of weakness that I felt so hollow and empty inside that even a blow from a feather could topple me? God help me, I didn't know any more. Of every scenario that I had ever mentally mapped out, of every strategy I had thought of to protect my brothers, of every carefully constructed plan I had had made, it never, never crossed my mind, except in a fleeting nightmare, that any of us could die.
I couldn't stop the instinct to recoil at the loud, and very unexpected clatter of a plate falling free from hands shaking too hard to grasp anything. Luckily, the plate itself was empty, and plastic, so there wasn't too much of a mess. I heard April yelp in surprise, and then her soft apology as she stooped to pick it up and deposit it into the sink.
I heard Donny mutter out some polite, forced reassurance that it was alright, it was just a plate. I bit back another sigh, as I raised my throbbing head from the cage of my fingers to stare uselessly at the kitchen. I was always prone to getting headaches due to stress, and now, it felt as if somebody was driving a spike through my temple. I tried to ignore it as I looked around the kitchen. It was a deceptively homely scene. Donny, Casey, and Splinter were all seated around the cheery oak table, with its bright table cloth. I was perched on my chair, fighting the unwanted urge to storm out and march back to Mikey's grave and drag Raph back into the house. By then, the darkness had fallen, and his absence was starting to grate on my already frayed nerves. It was irritating, but it was a blessed, blessed distraction, to think of Raph's temporary disappearance than the brutal finality of Mikey's burial.
"Leo?"
"Huh?" I answered Donny's quiet question with a distracted grunt as I dragged myself away from my thoughts to surface again.
"Sorry, Donny, what did you want?"
"I was asking you if you wanted something for your headache. It looks painful." Donny said, softly.
I didn't get the chance to answer. I heard the old metal door groan open, and watched as Raph's green fingers slipped through to push the screen door aside.
He hesitated, as he poked his head through, first, eying us all.
Splinter looked up from his cup of tea, and whispered, "Raphael, my son, please, sit with us."
Raphael stared at all of us for a long moment before he finally slid the door shut behind him. He didn't say anything as he pulled out a chair and lowered himself into it.
He saw the plates still sitting out, and gave April a crooked smirk. "Ya mind getting' me a plate? It looks good."
April gave him a tolerant smile, and obligingly set a heaping plate in front of him. He grunted out a thanks to April, stabbed a fork through the potatoes, and shoved it into his mouth. He looked at Donny and me, and put his fork down, uneasily.
"I got a question for everyone here." He said, softly, as one of his hands slid to his belt, and fell over the pommel of his sai.
"We just buried Mikey. What are we gonna do now?" He looked first at Splinter, then to me for the answer.
It was a very odd moment. Normally, Raph would have snarled out such a question, I would have pointed out the dangers, Donny would pacify, and Mikey would joke. Master Splinter would have soothed the nerves and the storms, and life would continue merrily on its way.
Master Splinter set his cup down, and folded his paw. He gave a gentle sigh, before leaning back to look at us all.
"All that I have left in this world is in this room. All those that I love, that I consider my family, are here around me. And for that, I am grateful. I have tried, my sons, to teach you the way of truth. I have tried to teach you all to love each other, to cherish each other, to be a family. I wanted you to draw strength from each other, to trust in each other, to let your bond to each other be a fortress and a refuge against this world and its cruelty. I have trained you to be warriors, to defend yourselves in the best way that I know how. "
He raised his paw to wipe away the tears and shuddered, waving away Donny's hands with a sharp gesture.
"And in doing so, I have sent one of my sons to his death. The Foot murdered Michelangelo, but he-and the rest of you- would have never been put in such needless danger if I had raised you more as the children you deserved to be, and not the soldiers I have forced you to become. I had the best of intentions, my sons. I knew that the world would be a cruel place to those who are different. I should have kept you all hidden from the world, safe, secure, and at peace. When I put those weapons in your young hands, when I taught you your katas, when I taught you how to do battle, I did so with the intentions of teaching you how to stay alive and well when I was no longer there to protect you. No father should ever subject his children to the things that I have asked you to endure. No father should send his children into a war they never asked to fight, and yet, that is exactly what I have done. I can do nothing to make this right, except to ask for your forgiveness, and offer you the choice you should have had years ago. Do you wish to stay here, where we are safe, and at peace? Or do you wish to return to the city, my sons?"