Aaaaand the final chapter of War of the Shadows is here at last. It is the longest chapter, but I was determined to finish it right here, right now. Take that you crazy story! The author will prevail!

Maybe now I can get some sleep with dreams that don't involve the unfortunate lives of mutated terrapin warriors.

But somehow, I still sense that's highly unlikely.

Chapter 36: Tears of the Pendulum Sea

It all had seemed like just a dream, the haunting of a passing nightmare, a trick of the light burning dim beneath his memory, because now in the shadow of this impending darkness, he could feel something settling deep within his bones, telling him that everything would be different now. The tides of fate were shifting and the world was forever changed.

Maybe Mikey's dream would come true, and when he opened his eyes, everything would be normal again. Leo would be standing there with that same worried look on his face, chiding him for being stupid, reckless, almost getting himself killed. And Don would be like he remembered him. So full of sprightly energy, that familiar warm smile without a trace of sorrow to taint it, disappearing into his lab to work on some new invention that was sure to astound and amaze. He had been strong then, whole. But now, everything was broken.

Maybe, all he had to do was wake up from this nightmare and be whole again, be everything they once had been, like nothing ever changed.

No future, no past, just now, the living, the end.

He would wake up in his hammock, stretch his tired muscles from a good night's sleep, maybe slip his way into the dojo, late again to practice again, fight with Leo like they always had, go storming off like a hothead, return and be forgiven.

How he ached for it all to be true, for all the lies to be real and not just some hopeless dreamer's wish. But all these things were changed now, and no matter what he did, nothing would ever make it real ever again.

He had to deal with the darkness because it was what life had become.

Abandon the shadow, my son. Prove the light.

The haunting voice rang through his ears, within his brain, a sound beyond all sound.

"Master Splinter?" he called, confused into the dark.

He could hear his own voice edging the abyss, but could feel no movement of his lips. His Sensei's words carried through the shadows like a beacon clear and true, like a voice that spoke entwined within his soul.

"Sensei?"

His voice was hollow now as he lost his grip on the fading darkness. Frantically he struggled to find a foothold, something to grasp, something to draw him closer to those words, but none had ever came.

It was like losing Leo to the darkness all over again. That night he had tried so hard to hold on, to pull himself closer to his brother's ghost, but the freefall into reality had torn him away, leaving only words that rang clear through the impending darkness.

But now the words were different. Now they held all hope. It was a message, an order, a command to find the light.

Before he could make any sense of it, Raph felt himself return into his body, his eyelids cracking open slowly into the land of the living once again.

"Raph… Raph? Can you hear me? Blink twice if you can hear me."

It was Donatello's voice piercing through his skull. He could see his blurry outline through the crack in his eyelids, and he was way too close for comfort.

Before Don could pull away, Raph reached out and palmed his brother's face, smothering the flood of words that were pouring out of his mouth and pushing him away.

"I'm fine, Don. You can quit yellin'" Raph grunted, but smiled when his eyes came into focus and he saw the look of bewilderment smeared upon his brother's face.

"You sure?" Don asked, puzzled. He had his hands on his knees now and had drawn two feet closer than where Raph had pushed him back. He must have been trying to look at his pupils or something.

It was beginning to feel like his personal bubble was being popped before his eyes. Raph tried to duck his head away from Don's inquisitive stare, only to find the back of the couch stopping him from doing so.

"Yeah. Sure. Peachy" he grunted, knowing that wasn't entirely true. He knew the pain would find him soon. The numbness wouldn't last for long.

"You were unconscious, there has to be a reason" he asked again, growing more frazzled by the second. "Follow my finger."

With an exasperated huff, Raph did as he was told, his eyes following the series of movements Don was performing with one outstretched finger. When he was finished, Don dropped his hand limply down to his side and looked more confused than ever.

"There. You satisfied?" Raph grumped, irritation apparent in his voice.

"I don't know. Looks like a puzzler. I just speculated head injury because of Mikey…"

Raph's eyes fluttered wide in realization. "Mikey!" he gasped, trying to lift himself off the couch with a sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. But his attempt was suddenly shattered by a sensation compared only to running head-long into a brick wall.

Twisting his face into a grimace, he clutched helplessly at the pain erupting through his side, causing him to cry out like a wounded animal.

Don took a few steps backward and blinked in disbelief. This was Raph actually crying out in pain. Sure, he had been in pain before, he had seen him beaten to near death, but never, ever had he heard Raph cry out in pain like that feral sound he had just made. Don mentally smacked himself.

"Of course, pain! Why didn't I think of that?" he pondered wistfully as Raph writhed in burning torrents of pain upon the couch. For a moment, he stared wide-eyed at his older brother, unsure of what to do until he saw where Raphael was grasping. With gentle hands, he laid his brother into a more comfortable position and waited for it to subside.

"Where does it hurt, Raph?" he asked, voice raised a little over the groans of pain.

"My ribs" he gasped "they're broken… I know it… I… remember from the last time." His words escaped between struggled pants, eyes drawn tightly shut against the world.

After several minutes, Raph's anguished cries were silenced and only his labored breathing remained as he choked down the last hints of mind-numbing pain, the burning in his ribs turning to a dull, but ever-present ache.

Through clouded eyes, he watched his brother leave and then return, smiling warmly and holding a bottle of pills in one hand, a glass of water in the other.

"Take these, they'll make you feel better" he said softly, offering a few tablets and the water to his brother who was now rendered completely unable to move from the position he was in. He knew that if he even dared to breathe the wrong way, it would erupt again. He lay flat on his shell, staring at the pills from the corner of his eyes, blinking away the tears that had collected there during the last explosion of pain.

"But these're yours" he breathed, turning his gaze to his brother's anguished eyes as he pressed two tablets into his palm "you barely got any left."

"I know" Don said rather matter-of-factly as he sat back on his heels on the floor beside his brother. "You need them more than I do."

Pressing the glass up to his lips, Don slowly poured the water into his brother's mouth, trying to forbid it from dribbling down his cheek, though some escaped him anyway. He sat back on his heels again and watched as Raph swallowed down the pills, sigh deeply, and turn his gaze up to the ceiling.

"Is that what it was like?" Raph murmured after a long silence. "Is that the kinda pain ya felt after… ya know."

Donatello's expression sobered. Biting his lip, he drew out the silence in search of an answer.

"Yes. But all over. All the time."

From the couch, Raph made a small grunt of acknowledgement and sorrow for his younger brother. His eyes still remained closed, but the grimace of pain had subsided.

"Honestly bro, if that happened ta me, I'd be cryin' like a little girl. All the time." Raph shifted uncomfortably. "But don't tell no one I said that."

Don nodded and turned his gaze away, eyes drawn to the floor.

"I did. I used to, a lot, but Mikey helped me, and Master Splinter did too. I hurt like that for a long time, Raph" he breathed, refusing to meet his brother's gaze.

He didn't want to start it now. He didn't want to say it, so he swallowed the words back down. Raph hadn't been there for him then, but he was there now. It seemed like it would be so natural for him to say it, what the silence spoke aloud, but he didn't.

Instead, four words came out before he could refuse to let them slip. It was a confession he hadn't expected to make.

"Sometimes it still does" he whispered to himself, the words barely escaping through his lips, the secret he had hidden so well.

"What was that?" Raph asked, eyeing him with some concern. Don lifted his eyes to meet him, cracking a warm, pleasant smile.

But his heart was pounding in his chest. He had no idea what had made him say it, and he prayed Raph hadn't heard. It would tear his façade to pieces if he knew.

His family was already dangling by a string, and knowing his secret would only deepen the rift. For them, he had to lie.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing" he cooed in a sing-song voice and turned his eyes back to the floor.

Raphael's eyes shifted under his lids as he thought back to that darkened time, that point in his memory that he wished he could forget. His breath hitched a little when he remembered that night, the night he tried to make his escape, the night the darkness had prevailed. Since then, his path had been a winding road, a mad scramble up a rocky cliff, but it had all been worth it in the end. Now, he could turn back and see how far things had come, and see how far he still had left to go.

And again, a voice rang tried and true throughout his head. Abandon the shadow. Prove the Light.

The light was out there somewhere, he just had to find it.

"Mikey will be alright" Donatello said softly, watching his brother's breathing ease a little at the reassurance. He had nearly forgotten. "He's in a state of artificially induced hibernation, and the nasty bruise on his head tells me he might have a concussion. He might not wake up for a while now, but he'll be fine."

With that, Don sighed wearily, but cracked a smile none the less. "I give him two… three weeks tops before he's back to his old self again."

"I wish it were that easy" Raph whispered to the ceiling, closing his eyes and swallowing back another stab of pain. He was beginning to wonder how long Don's painkillers would take to start working.

"Huh?" Don said dreamily, caught suddenly the web of his own wandering mind.

"I said I wish it was that easy… ya know… ta be the same again."

"People can't help being changed, Raph" Donatello said quietly, eyes glazing over with silent tears. "Mikey's changed, you've changed, I've changed. A lot. We can't help it, it's just who we are."

Raph painfully turned his head to look at his brother, throwing them one of those penetrating gazes that seemed to be able to shake the world.

"You didn't change, Don. Sure, you got hurt, but inside, you're still the same. You still can smile, you never lost your hope. You didn't let it harden you. Ya didn't get mad at the world, let it turn ya bitter like the rest of us. Maybe Mike and I changed, but bro, you're still the same."

The tears welling in Don's eyes made the world turn murky around him, but still they refused to fall. They just lingered there for eons, liquid proof of just how wrong Raphael truly was. Slowly, he shook his head.

"You're wrong, Raph" he said quietly. "You have no idea how wrong you are."

His voice was barely a whisper choking through his hidden tears, but the look on Raph's face told him that he had heard him this time. For a moment, they sat there, eyes locked within a silent stare, just reading each other, thinking of how different things might have been.

It was all still running through their heads when a small noise came from the doorway, causing Don to turn.

"I hope I'm not interrupting" April said quietly. "Is he?"

Don nodded and blinked the tears from his eyes. "He's awake. Broken ribs, but he'll be okay. "

Slowly, April nodded, walked over to the space before the couch, and helped Don to his feet.

Eyes locked to the ground, Don sniffled and let his shoulders hang limp.

"When the pain meds start working, can you wrap him up?" he said, sounding suddenly miserable. "This bug is catching up with me. I think I have to go lay down."

Sensing the pain that lingered in the turtle's heart, April gave his shoulders a loving squeeze before guiding him over to the stairway. "You take care, Don. Get some rest, ok?" she said softly, one hand rested on the banister as she watched her friend make his slow, painful journey up the stairs.

Even after he disappeared, she never peeled her gaze away.

Then, suddenly Casey emerged from the hallway and trekked his way down the wooden steps, dragging her kicking and screaming back to harsh reality.

"Raph's awake" she said with a smile as Casey's pace quickened down the stairs and was soon found crouching by his friend.

"How ya doin', buddy?" he asked softly.

"Peachy" came Raph's only snide reply.

"Don says he's waiting for the pain meds to kick in" April said from over her husband's shoulder.

"What pain meds?"

"I think they were his" April sighed.

"But don't he need them?" Casey asked, voice edging on concern.

"He said I need 'em more than he does" Raph grunted, opening his eyes and attempting to sit. With a wince and a groan, he managed to pull himself up.

"Take it easy there, Raphie boy, you're gunna hurt yourself" Casey warned, putting a strong hand on his shoulder in an attempt to keep him still.

Raph snorted. "Little late for that. Don't hurt that much anymore anyway. Pain meds are workin', I guess."

He blinked a few times as the room started to spin. "Wow this stuff is strong" he mused with a grin, feeling his pain start to ebb away to almost nothing.

"Good" smiled April, holding a long roll of stiff bandages. "Don says I have to bind you up so you don't hurt yourself more than you already have. Are you ready?"

Raphael quickly nodded, feeling almost giddy from the effects of Donny's pills, even after April started winding the bandages painfully tight around his plastron.

"So how's Mikey?" he asked Casey who was now sitting beside him on the couch.

"He's fine. Boring, but fine. He's been sleepin' since we found him. Don's got him up in your room."

Raphael nodded to himself, mulling the night's events over and over in his mind.

"An' Master Splinter must be up there with 'im?"

April and Casey suddenly exchanged worried looks, which made Raph's heart sink to the floor. That couldn't be good.

Casey nervously rubbed the back of his neck before he responded.

"Uh, Raph… Master Splinter didn't exactly… come with us."

Raph's eyes shot open, stunned.

"What do ya mean, Casey?" he asked, voice edging on a combination of anger and panic.

Casey looked down to the ground and didn't answer as April finished binding his plastron. Now Raph could see her face, the expression of sorrow that graced her gentle features.

"Casey" he seethed, new-found anger coiling within his voice "you damn well tell me what happened ta my father."

Casey's expression sobered and he raised his eyes to gaze deeply at his best friend.

"A-after we got you…" he stuttered "Leatherhead said we had to get you guys outta there ASAP, so we went out to the van, but Splinter wasn't there."

Raph's eyes searched the room for an answer, but found none.

"Splinter went in there" he said solemnly.

Casey nodded.

"After we lost sign of you, he and I went in to find you. We got to Leatherhead, but Bishop was there. He'd done something to L.H. and he had him attacking us like some rabid animal, but then Splinter did something and made him stop."

For a moment, he paused, waiting for the right words to find him.

"Casey, get on with it" Raph snapped, shifting uncomfortably against the urge to get up and storm out of the house to look for him.

Casey's eyes met his and for one small moment, he looked scared, and that was almost enough to make Raph want to run all the way back to the city if he had to.

"We… we got Leatherhead out an' gave Bishop a serious talkin' to… I gotta few hits in with my bat, but damn that guy's a freak…"

"Casey" Raph growled, his boiling anger nearing its breaking point "if you don't spit it out, I swear ta god I'll break your jaw."

Casey swallowed hard, feeling like he had delayed the inevitable long enough.

"He told us to leave him, to find you guys." There was a deep, suffocating pause that weighed down on them like a ton of bricks. "He fought him alone, Raph" Casey said slowly, quietly.

At that, Raph grit his teeth and pounded his fist hard onto the couch's arm rest. "That little bastard's gunna pay for what he did!" he roared, struggling to his feet.

Casey stood and held tight onto his best friend's shoulder, refusing to let him go. Forcefully pulling Raph to face him, he stared deep into his angry eyes.

"Bishop's dead. We saw his body out by the entrance. Splinter musta killed him 'an disappeared."

Raph pushed past Casey's iron grip and stormed to the door, ignoring whatever pain still lingered in his side. "We gotta find him, Case! Why did ya just leave him like that! God damn it!" he raved, reaching the door, but stopping before he could open it. Instead he just stood there, dumbstruck by his own bleak imaginings.

He pounded his fist on the rickety door and pressed his forehead to the wood, letting it all seep in.

He could feel Casey's hand on his shoulder, but dared not look up, dared not show any sign of weakness.

"I'll help you find him" Casey said quietly, reaching for the doorknob. "Come on, we can take the van."

Without a word, Raph eased himself from the door and let his friend push it open, letting in the hungry cold of winter's night air. Above him, the sky was clear, showing true the unblinking eyes of stars.

Silently, they clambered into the van and drove back to the city where all was quiet and the ghosts of warriors walked again.

After a while, he had grown tired of watching the world pass him by and he closed his eyes against it all, pressing his forehead against the cool glass. But the demons of his own imaginings were no kinder than the cruel world outside, the world that had made him who he was, that had ripped his family apart piece by tattered peace until all he had left to hold on to were scraps and memories.

And memory is what struck him now, something hot like tears that ran up and down his spine. The image that had passed through his brain into the darkness.

Leo's body engulfed in flames.

He could remember it so well, over and over again, and retrace it in every detail, every ounce of hungry flame, the scent of burning flesh, the blackened steel of his brother's swords.

He had walked away then, his heart made laden with the burden of one million stones of guilt, sorrow, fear for what life would be like without his brother there to guide him. It was a life he had once thought was not worth living.

But that was past now, and he wanted so badly to forget.

And then, the pain of realization hit him like wall. Leo's swords were left forgotten upon the floor at Bishop's base, still bloodstained and soaked with the countless lives of his most hated enemy.

He could forgive himself for leaving the sai. Without them, life would go on, but his brother's swords were like his own life's blood, a piece of Leo he could still touch, still grasp. But they were gone now, forever lost to the life and death of a ninja, just like their owner had been. Gone.

For a while, he thought about his brother, his swords, his honor. He thought about the dream where he had touched him, reached out, pulled him to his feet in his weakest hour and gave him the strength to keep moving on.

If it had been more than a dream, he would never truly know.

He turned it over and over in his mind, the way his brother had died, made his sacrifice for his family, and gave his life to save his own. It was honor, his honor, Leo's pride and justified honor that cloaked thickly every step he took, every breath he breathed, every word he spoke. His bother lived by honor and died in honor, and Raphael knew he wouldn't have had it any other way.

But still, his mind wandered back to the last day, that day of reigning fire, the day he knew he was truly gone. The park, he remembered, that willow tree by the water's edge where Mikey sat and cried, the familiar crunch of gravel underfoot.

Those memories never left him, curling through his mind with blinding clarity until he swore he could remember every blade of grass, every stone of gravel, the direction of the blowing wind, the slow lapping of the sea.

And then, he knew.

"I know where Master Splinter is" he said slowly, quietly, solemn as a stone as he opened his eyes to the world again to see the grey glow of the first light of dawn.

Casey turned to look at him from the driver's seat. "You do? Where?"

"The park, by the sea."

Casey quarked an eyebrow. "There ain't no sea in Central Park, Raph. It's Central Park. It's in tha middle of tha City. There's the harbor, and the ocean. I guess the ocean's kind of a sea, but that's nowhere near the park."

Raph let his shoulders slump in defeat. He was so sure about it, he could have sworn on his life that it was true. But New York City and New Manhattan were so different from each other, it was hard to tell exactly where, or when, the pieces fit together. The one thing he did remember about the future was the water. There was more of it and a lot less land. He could remember Donny going bonkers about Global Warming and the sea level and stuff, but he had been too annoyed by it to pay attention.

"That's it!" he snapped loudly, on the verge of an epiphany that could rival even Don's.

"What the…" Casey gasped, nearly driving off the road, earning him a symphony of agitated honks from a variety of taxi drivers parked along the sidewalks. When the van swerved back into control and they found themselves parked at the tail-end of a trademark NYC traffic jam, Casey spun around to his friend and threw him a glare.

"What was that all about?"

"I had an idea."

"Congratulations" Casey said sarcastically, earning himself a death-glare in return.

"Just shut up and listen, ok" he snapped. "In the future there was a whole lot more water than there is now, so a hundred years from now there is a sea in Central Park. Got it?"

Casey looked dumbfounded, but he lied anyway. "Uh, yeah. I guess so."

"No you don't ya idiot" Raph snapped, pulling out a map from the glove compartment. He traced his eyes from the ocean to Central Park and back again.

"Kerry Lake. That's gotta be it" he mused then looked back to his friend. "You know, the lake the kids go skatin' on every winter."

"Yeah, I ain't that dumb, Raph" Casey grunted. "That's the place Mike said you guys came out from tha Time Portal thing."

"That's tha place. I think a hundred years from now the ocean's gunna get that far an' they sorta run together. Turn around, you're goin' the wrong way."

In the darkened room, Donny slowly made his way to his little brother's bedside, staring silently at his peaceful expression, so drained of all the tainted darkness, all the tension, all the fear that usually plagued him, hidden under the quiet mask of sleep. And for a time, he just sat there and listened to him breathe, staring at the purple mark, tender and swollen just above his temple.

It was a stark reminder of his weakness, his failure, his injury that had rendered him so feeble, so incapable of protecting his own brothers. He was helpless now, reduced to merely sitting and waiting for them to return to him, broken and half-dead because he couldn't be there. He couldn't fight.

Never in his life had he wanted so badly to fight, to be there in the middle of whatever mess his brothers could cook up, and simply be capable again. Before, he thought he had it all figured out. Before, he had thought it would be for the best if he never could pick up his bo again. He could invent now, be freer than he had ever been before.

But no, the weakness had weighed him down like a leaden chain, tethering him to a world that he would never understand. This life, this curse of loss and failure he would never wish on even his most deserving enemies. No one deserved to suffer this much. No one deserved to be this weak.

And now Splinter was missing, and the remaining fragile threads of his life were beginning to unwind. His brothers seemed to be coping after their long, hard struggle against the world. Raph and Mikey had come to terms, accepted that their lives had changed, and were slowly beginning to move on. But he had lived a life of lies and half-truth, telling his brothers, and himself that he would be okay with the curses placed upon him.

He had smiled, comforted, ignored the hurt of loss and anger that chipped away his hard exterior until finally it all came tumbling down.

He had had himself fooled for so long, when he finally had allowed himself to fall, the final explosion into reality had wounded his very his soul.

It was the lake, he had decided. That day when they had finally made it home when his world came crashing down, gnawing away at him piece by piece until only hollowness was left. It was like breaking through the ice marked the shattering of his own façade, letting the pain seep in through the cracks until he could bear no more. He had been so strong for so long, he had almost forgotten how to feel.

The sickness that followed was like a reminder of his weakness, his failure, his incapability. It had hit him like a raging storm and robbed him of whatever strength he still possessed until nothing else was left.

And now, sitting there in the silence, he started to wonder how much of it was truly physical and how much of it was fabricated in his head.

Silent tears rolled down his cheeks, wetting the blankets on his brother's bed. But never did he sob, never did he allow himself to whimper. It was his own silent struggle, his alone to battle.

Mikey had fought it and won, Raphael had nearly let it take him down, but still, he had prevailed. Now, it was his turn to face his demons and pray they wouldn't overtake him. He could win, if he tried.

But he was weak, and try as he may, he would never have the strength to pull him through. He knew it. He could feel it in his heavy heart.

Suddenly, a noise behind him made him jump and banish all the tears from his eyes. Quickly he stood, nervously adjusting Mikey's blanket, and turned toward the figure standing in the door.

"I just wanted to check on you two" came April's gentle voice from the doorway, now soaked deeply with concern. Stepping through the threshold, she shut the door behind her.

"How is he?"

"His body temperature is back to normal, so it's just a matter of time before he wakes up. He probably won't be feeling very well when he does, though. That bump on his head is pretty nasty. He'll need to stay in bed at least a few more weeks."

At that, April nodded thoughtfully and shifted on her feet. For a moment, she just stared, resting one hand gently upon Mikey's plastron.

"How's Leatherhead?" Donny asked after a long, tense silence.

"He still won't come out of the basement. I think something really scared him back there."

Don nodded solemnly and brought his eyes back down to Mikey, but he could still feel April's look of concern penetrating him, asking a question she didn't have to say out loud. Hesitantly he turned to meet her gaze and tried his best to brush her off.

"I'll be fine. I'm just tired."

She took a few steps toward him and noticed the tears still swimming in his eyes.

"I worry about you, you know. You seem to be taking this pretty hard."

Don laughed silently to himself. Leave it to April to have him all figured out, even when no one else seemed to care.

"I'll be fine, April" he lied, trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince her.

Refusing to believe a word, April walked forward with her arms outstretched and pulled him into a much needed hug, careful not to squeeze too hard and make him pull away. She could hear his breathing quicken slightly, soft against her ear, but still he pulled her in, holding her close like his last dying breath.

When he spoke, he whispered into her soft cascade of hair. "Thanks for being here, April. You have no idea how much it means." He could feel the tears springing up again, but still he refused to let them fall.

Slowly, she drew herself away and smiled, the very sight of it melting the ice that had formed around his heart.

"You know I love you, right?" she grinned, playfully chucking him under the chin.

Don couldn't help his heart from fluttering at those five words. She said it often, but never did it mean anything more. She was like their sister, and she did love him, just not in the way he had ever dreamed.

Slowly, Donny nodded.

"Get some sleep, okay?" she cooed "I'll stay and watch Mikey."

"Thanks, April" he beamed. "Wake me up if he comes to."

"I promise" she whispered, lovingly caressing the turtle's cheek before he turned for his own bed in the corner.

And for a time, the room was drenched in silence. April never knew that Don silently cried himself to sleep.

When Casey's van pulled into the gravel drive, Raph could feel the rush of memory come sweeping over him, and in his heart of hearts he knew this had to be the place.

In the early morning light, the park was deserted and covered with a fresh blanket of unmarred snow. Getting out of the car, Raph hugged himself and slowly exhaled, watching his breath curl out of him and into the winter air.

But the thick moisture of spring lingered there too, the scent of sodden ground and new life. February's end was calling for March and new beginnings, and Raph could feel it in his bones. His had just begun.

The crunch of snow underfoot was muffled by the layer of snow, the creaking of dead trees, the groaning of the ice with water lapping underneath. The leafless trees swayed in the gentle breeze, reaching up to the grey dawn air, without a trace of red.

Maybe now the storm was over, and they could finally rest.

Raph didn't really know which direction he should take, he only walked to where his heart had told him, to where it had felt right, and Casey followed closely behind, eyes tracing through the snow.

When they saw the shape lying up ahead, neither of them said a word. Neither quickened their pace, for their hearts told them well what lay waiting by the water's edge. Their eyes only proved the truth.

Slowly Raphael kneeled beside his father's body and caressed the chill of his fur. He lay peaceful in the snow, eyes closed softly as in sleep. Only the thick, reddened snow that lay caked around his shoulder told truth of his demise.

He had come to this place, the last ghost within his memory, and laid down to rest beside the earth where his eldest son had lain. Drenching the white purity of snow until his last life blood had escaped him, and had surrendered himself to his fate, knowing that his sons would live on because of him.

He's with Leo now.

These words echoed through his head, over and over until it became like a chant, a prayer, a hymn of belief, and he knew that this was better.

It was what he would have wanted.

For a long time, Raph sat there, legs abandoning all sensation to the cold, his head bowed before his teacher, his father, the only man that could ever save him from himself, dull the anger with a single word, a glance, a touch of his paw. And now, he lay helpless like a child in the snow, lost forever to the eternal world of sleep.

Without shedding a single tear, his voice wavering only slightly, Raph slowly drew his eyes up to his friend, a look that told him all.

"We have to bury him here."

Casey only gave him a solemn nod, trekked out to the van, and appeared with a single shovel. He was lucky he had kept it there, and even luckier it broke through the frozen ground. Whether it was the shovel, or his grief that made him strong, he did not know, but never did he dig as fast, as well, as lovingly as he did that day as he stole glances at his best friend, cradling his father's lifeless body and caressing his fur with his only hand.

Never did he shed a single tear. Never did he scream about the unfairness of it all. He only sat there, solemnly, his father's cold and stiffening body held against his flesh, and watched his best friend dig, pile after pile of frozen sickly earth until the day had risen from the treetops and the park still stayed abandoned to the cold.

When they lowered his body down and covered it with the soft brown earth, not a tear escaped his eyes. Never did he plead with the gods to revive him, or take him in his place. Never did he howl, bargain, struggle or weep even after the bare earth was all that remained and they covered him with snow.

Never did he weep until he saw the swords.

Buried in the snow, the glint of steel beaconed silver like the brightest star. With disbelief he reached, touched the cold steel to his fingertips, and gasped with the welling sorrow of his heart.

He withdrew the twin blades from their snowy sheath and held them to the February air. And he cried. For the first time in a long time, he hung his head and cried with every trace of blackness in his heart, with every bit of anguish, hurt and sorrow that lingered there within him until there was no more left to give.

And the van pulled away into the shadows, fading now and till forever into the burning ghost of memory, in search to prove the light.