For every Final Journey I've ever stood vigil for, and for M, who I miss every day.


Prologue

I search my brother's face for what feels like ages, the silence building around us thick and heavy like smog. His eyes meet mine, then dart away; his lips part-his mouth moves to make words but none come. I tilt my head, squinted eyes as if to say: what? Tell me.

"It's not true." I seek his gaze out again, but once more he avoids it. Why won't he talk? Why won't he tell me the truth? That this isn't real, that it's a cruel joke, a vengeful jab at me for being gone so long. Damnit, Donatello! Don't you see how childish you're being? "Look, I know I hurt you and I should have been back a long time ago, but that's no reason to lie t-"

When he finally does look at me, his eyes are wet and his brow is low. There's something there that I can't fully detect. Maybe anger at me. I can't blame him. "It is true," he confirms, pointedly.

Suddenly I'm cold, and a little bit tingly. I feel like I've been slugged in the gut, as if all the wind has been knocked from my lungs. The blood drains from my face, maybe straight to my feet and onto the concrete floor for all I know. I feel faint, and I could swear someone was holding my head under water. I reach out for something, anything to steady myself. At some point Donatello is near me, holding my arm.

"It happened four months ago," he tells me in a hushed tone. "Mikey found him."

I swallow thickly, my brain fighting for control of my body. "He was alone?"

Donatello looks down and nods gently. "Yeah. He'd been going out for months on his own. I didn't know at first what he was doing, and I don't think Mikey did either. He was just so angry, Leo. I couldn't control him. We all tried, even Master Splinter. But..." he sighs, trailing off.

My brother died. Alone. And I knew nothing. Felt nothing. A thousand miles away in a muggy jungle sleeping on a straw mat in a tiny village; nothing. No pull at my spirit, a sudden rush of panic, and no overwhelming desire to come home. My family struggled without me because I was ashamed and selfish, my brother died, and I wasn't there for them. I imagined that each of them must have held onto a portion of absolutely agonizing pain, big enough to fit squarely on my shoulders; saved it just for me, labeled and neatly tucked away in a box labeled with my name.

Realizing all these things hits me hard, like a sword through my heart. But I don't blink. I don't look away.

"What do you mean, you didn't know what he was doing?" I ask when I finally can.

"We should have figured it out. I feel like such an idiot," he says angrily.

I try to get him to focus. "What was it he was doing. Donnie?"

"There's something you should see. It's in the garage. I don't even know why we keep it. I guess Mikey doesn't want to get rid of it. I don't know." he pauses and, satisfied that everyone is still sleeping soundly, says, "follow me, but keep it down."


Someone may notice I had a story like this uploaded several months ago. This is the same story, just a rewrite. I was having trouble, since Leo is not a character I really identify with, but I think first person suits this story better for what I have planned. I apologize for any confusion.